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Chapter Text

Introduction: 

Rose Granger-Weasley’s Dissertation Draft 12/3/2028

(it’s just a draft, just write the damn thing Rose you’ll edit it later)

Now commonly understood to be a result of inbreeding (Fawley, 1993) (Copley & Dobson, 2004), other scholars, most prominently Eloise Danforth, have theorized that excessive alcohol and illicit potions may have played a more prominent role in the reduction of fertility in these so-called “Sacred Twenty-Eight'' families than previously understood (Danforth, 2007). Edmund Freyburg cites the Jeweled Serpent, developed in 1902 and popularized in the 1920s, as the most likely cause (2002). However, Hyacinth McMillon disputes the idea that consumption of this potion was common enough to cause widespread infertility even as Jeweled Serpent addiction almost certainly ended the Selwyn line and caused at least three men to be committed to the Janus Thickey Ward (McMillon, 2001). Alexander Nott continues to posit that this infertility crisis was the result of hereditary blood curses, though the only “Sacred Twenty-Eight” line with a confirmed blood curse is the Greengrass family, and so most scholars dismiss blood curses as a significant cause of the infertility issue (Nott, 2004) (McMillon, 2001). 

[ And blaming the infertility on blood curses makes the families seem like victims which is why a bigoted dolt like Nott wants to put the blame there. - find a way to say this without seeming like a bitchy halfblood because he still has sway in the dept]

For the purposes of this dissertation, however, the exact cause(s) are less important than the impacts of the infertility and the theories at the time for why so many pureblood families in the late 19th and early-to-mid 20th century birthed only one child or no children at all. 

In the late 19th century… [do I even want to include the 19th century here? Might be better to skip to focus on 20th. Maybe a footnote even? Ask Perkins] 

[if to include - basically they didn’t notice]

Pureblood witches and wizards began to notice the trend towards lower birthrates in the early 20th century. [Insert that quote from letter from Carrow to Nott from 1908 here.] However, many saw it as a positive that lines of inheritance might be less complex as many families only had one male heir. As Penelope Parkinson wrote to Constance Goyle: “Lucky you to have only one male child! I am not looking forward to the fight over the Chatham Estate between my boys. It’ll make the battle between my father and his uncle over the house in Greece look like the Goblin Wars of 1208,” (Parkinson, 1926). 

[Insert super brief history of the “Sacred 28” here - by C. Nott probably, reinventing pureblood mythology for a new age, movement away from Arthurian ideals, theorized inclusion criteria etc etc - it’s all in the Collins/Danforth paper]

However, by the 1940s, the families began to place the blame, first, on individual pureblood women and then, in the early 1950s, on the suspected machinations of muggleborn witches and wizards. There was at the time and continues to be zero evidence that muggleborns had any influence on the birth rates of pureblood witches and wizards. 

[owl another box of chocolates to Al tonight for convincing Scorpius to get his dad to donate his family papers to archives. Godric bless him. Saved this bloody dissertation.]

It was not until 1962 that this theory reached more mainstream publications. Godfrey Rowle wrote a controversial opinion piece in the Daily Prophet suggesting that the infertility issue may be a surreptitious muggleborn attack on pureblood families, though he was careful to not make any explicit allegations (Rowle, 1962). Oliver Burke and Abraxas Malfoy funded a short-lived research program at St. Mungo’s examining the possibility of nefarious magic on pureblood fertility from 1963-1964, which was shut down amidst scandal (Permion, 1984). 

[avoid mentioning the Burke’s at all?? E. Burke’s on the committee & is sensitive - ask Perkins about this too.]

[why the fuck did I go to grad school]

Chapter 1: The First Detention

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

“I’m going to fail the Runes OWL - I just know it,” Narcissa sighed to Andromeda as they exited the Great Hall. 

“You know the material much better than you think you do. I’m sure you’re loads better than your classmates,” Andromeda said, kind but exasperated. 

The two sisters had their heads close and hands brushing into each other, less for privacy and more for the intimacy of the act and the comfort of the other’s presence. Bellatrix had graduated years ago, and Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, and so the two sisters were practically alone in Dumbledore’s castle. There were the Rosier boys, who were family but not Blacks. 

“Girdelstone won’t stop talking about how this is our OWL year and standards are high.” 

“Yes, I know he’s a nightmare when it comes to OWL stress, but he’s a fine teacher, and it’s mostly all talk. I took that class last year. He’s harder on students than the OWL examiners are.” 

Reassuring Narcissa was getting tiresome, but all of the fifth year students were starting to feel the pressure of the approaching exams. Andromeda remembered what OWLs were like, and her patience with Narcissa was near infinite. 

“What a useless subject - why am I even taking it.” Narcissa tossed up a hand dismissively and shook her white blonde hair as the pair descended down the final staircase before the Slytherin dormitory. “If I come across any antiques with runes on them, I can just hire someone to translate.”

“And get yourself cheated by some twat from Burke’s who paid more attention in Runes than you did? No, you’ll do fine on the exam, and you’ll get your Runes OWL, and you’ll never have to take it again.” 

Andromeda grabbed Narcissa’s hand for further reassurance as the sisters turned the corner. Narcissa stopped suddenly, and Andromeda’s first thought was that Sirius and little Gryffindor friends set off another dung bomb in the corridor (for the fourth time that semester), but it was her other cousin causing the issue. 

Phillipe Rosier and Alton Yaxley had a Hufflepuff boy pinned against a tapestry-covered wall. The tapestry depicted an empty pastoral scene; presumably, the usual occupants had decided to hide in their delicately sewn cottage or run. 

Rosier had his left forearm holding the tiny Hufflepuff still while he pointed his wand at the child’s face with his right. Rosier’s mouth curled into a small, cold smile. His chin was too strong, but, otherwise, he had the same fine Rosier features that Andromeda’s mother did. 

Yaxley held a wand in each hand, and he pointed one lazily at the younger student. He towered over Rosier and dwarfed the Hufflepuff, and his blunt features offered the same small, cold smile as Rosier’s. 

Two sixth year students against a wandless second year. Her cousin had always hated a fair fight. 

“You think it’s funny to go around saying that all purebloods are inbred and crazy?” Rosier growled. “That my family is, what term did you use? ‘Filthy?’” 

The Hufflepuff looked absolutely terrified and was not even trying to wriggle out of Rosier’s grasp. With wide eyes, he cried out with his words spilling over each other, “No, it was a joke! It’s not funny! Not a funny joke! Evans said -”

“It seems like you need to learn some respect,” Rosier purred, his face just inches away from the child’s. “I don’t know how they act in the muggle world to which you belong, but, here in the wizarding world, one defends one’s family honor. By any means.”

Andromeda dropped Narcissa’s hand and took another step towards them. 

“Oh, just let him go, Rosier,” Andromeda called out, making the three of them turn to look at her. “You’ve already scared him enough. He won’t be stupid enough to insult the family again.” 

She stared at the small Hufflepuff sternly who squirmed in Rosier’s grasp. He looked like he was about to cry. 

Yes, it was clear he would not make this mistake again. Someone needs to tell young muggleborns how to act, and, if their prefects won’t do it, they’ll keep facing completely preventable violence, and she was not always going to be around to intervene. 

“But, Andromeda, there’s this new hex I’ve been dying to try,” Yaxley drawled without moving his wand or his gaze from the trapped student. 

“You two do know I’m a prefect and have a responsibility to prevent one-sided duels in the hallways,” Andromeda said before adding, “...however justified the cause may be,” for good measure.  

Andromeda was growing frustrated and was unsure of the best method to de-escalate the situation before she had to drag a small mangled body up to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to knit back together. 

“Lucius is a prefect too, and he wouldn’t put Dumbledore’s rules over family, cousin,” said Rosier with false sweetness while pushing his forearm harder into the chest of the child who was definitely crying now. 

Andromeda had just started to insist, “Well I’m not Lucius,” as a figure came bursting around the corner, took in the sight of the restrained student, and shouted, “Let go of Albert!” 

As the incoming student slid to a stop, she shot off a bat-bogey hex which hit Narcissa square in the face. Great flapping bats took over her face and head and began to get tangled in her blonde hair. 

Before Rosier or Yaxley could react, Andromeda sent the strongest stinging hex she could muster to the offending student, who fell to her knees in pain. Andromeda recognized her as a sixth year Hufflepuff. Something Tonks. A muggleborn. She didn’t cry out, which was either impressive or an insult to Andromeda’s hexing abilities, but Andromeda was too angry to care either way. 

“How dare you touch my sister,” Andromeda hissed as she stepped towards the kneeling student debating the merits of a return bat bogey hex or something a little more difficult to reverse. Did no one in this damn castle have any sense at all? 

Just as she was considering one of Bellatrix’s curses, she was interrupted. 

“Oh Merlin! What is going on here!” cried Professor Slughorn as he rounded the corner out of breath and flustered. He muttered a counter-hex and cleaned up Narcissa’s face immediately. 

“They were harassing Albert!” the older Hufflepuff exclaimed at the same time as Rosier and Yaxley said, “She hexed Narcissa!” 

Rosier had released Albert but his tear-stained face matched with Rosier’s quick step away must have looked suspicious enough. Rosier made his watery blue eyes as wide and innocent as possible and clasped his hands behind his back, which gave him the air of a very guilty child. 

Yaxley held his chin in expression of defiant neutrality and looked straight at Slughorn. He seemed to have forgotten that he still held two wands. 

“Miss Black,” Slughorn asked, turning to Andromeda who was doing her best to maintain the neutral, docile expression best suited for dealing with professors, parents, and other authorities. “Is it true that Mister Duncan was being harassed?”

“Of course not, Professor,” she said with a small, innocent smile. “I was defending my sister from her.” Andromeda shot a look at the Hufflepuff in front of her. “You saw the impact of the bat boogey hex. I know I shouldn’t have used a hex in response. I’m very sorry.” Andromeda did her best to look contrite, which, in combination with Slughorn’s obvious favoritism might get her off with a stern lecture.

No such luck. 

“Defending your sister or not, you are still a prefect, and I expect more restraint from you.” Slughorn seemed to be powering through his distinct dislike of disciplining students, particularly well-connected Slytherins. He must be in a bad mood. 

“Detention! The both of you. Every Wednesday night until the Winter Holidays, starting tomorrow. With Filch. And five points from Hufflepuff and five from my own house.” The last statement seemed to cause him physical pain. 

Poor Sluggy. This must be so hard for him, the old softy. 

“But!” the Hufflepuff who hexed her sister tried again. Her short, sandy-blonde hair curled over her ears, and her hazel eyes were both confused and angry. She seemed utterly flummoxed by Slughorn’s response. 

The wrong corridor for your expectations of fairness, little badger. 

The child, Albert, had moved so he stood a step behind her. His tear-streaked face was now blazing mad, and his hands were balled up into fists, one of which somehow now clutched his wand. 

“No arguments!” Slughorn cut Tonks off before she could voice her appeal. “There is to be no fighting in the hallways. I expect better from you too, Miss Tonks. As a Quidditch Captain, you are also expected to hold yourself to a high standard of behavior. The position is a privilege, not a right. Now, if you will cease making excuses, I am late to get drinks with the new Assistant Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.” He kept walking with his own corpulent grace as if he paused any longer he may have reduced Andromeda’s punishment to a warning. 

“Can you believe him? I get hexed, and Slughorn gives you detention?” Andromeda could hear the fury in Narcissa’s voice though someone outside the family might think Narcissa was merely registering inconvenience. 

Andromeda and Narcissa sat in two high backed armchairs next to the towering window to the lake. Andromeda ignored the school of fish swimming on the other side of the glass. She slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet under her. 

The Slytherin common room was a second home to them (or more than second, depending on how one counted). It was amusing that others referred to their domain as “the dungeons” as if this grand, open space with its high ceilings, tucked away study rooms, and clear views into the lake were remotely like a dungeon. The label added to the mystique of their house at least.  

“It is utterly ridiculous,” Andromeda responded with a small huff. “Rosier and Yaxley certainly owe me now. And maybe they’ll actually listen to me the next time I ask them to stop harassing second years right in front of me. What is the point of being a prefect if you can’t even get your cousins to release a crying child. And maybe Slughorn will feel guilty enough about the whole affair that he’ll introduce me to the St. Mungo’s Board. I can make it work for me.” 

Andromeda tried not to let her frustration show too much. She didn’t want her sister to feel at all guilty. “Anyway, do you want me to start quizzing you on Elder Futhark or Younger Futhark?” 

“Elder. I think I have a solid enough grasp on Younger.” 

Andromeda offered words, phrases, and intentions and watched Narcissa scratch runes out on parchment. As Andromeda suspected, Narcissa knew the material better than she thought. Andromeda corrected a few mistakes, but not many. 

“No - you’re close. The rune to facilitate childbirth is ‘bi -AR - grunar’ not ‘bi - AM - grunar.’ But see, I told you that you know these.” 

Narcissa seemed pleased enough with her progress. She swept her long, blonde hair back with an elegant hand and leaned back into the armchair. “Alright. Let’s move onto more interesting subjects then. Who are you taking to Slughorn’s Yule party?” she said with a smirk. 

“I thought we were going to go together?” 

“Oh, don’t be silly. It’ll be nice to have dates.” Narcissa’s lips curled into a sly smile. 

Andromeda saw through her sister’s game immediately. Narcissa could use “I’m going with my sister” as an excuse to ignore any requests from boys she did not want to take her to the party until or unless she received an invitation from someone she did.  

“So who asked you to be his date?” Andromeda asked, amused. She appreciated Narcissa’s machinations, even if she was made a pawn. 

“Lucius.” Narcissa blushed and looked down at the carpet. 

Andromeda’s gut clenched. Lucius. That prat. How he was a prefect was beyond her. Her sister and Lucius Malfoy? 

“Really? But he’s -”

“A seventh year, I know, but that’s hardly an age difference all things considered.”

“I was going to say a creep.”

“No, he’s not!”

“He’s always surrounded by a group of fawning younger boys as he trades favors and teaches them dark magic then lets them get caught and take the fall for him! It’s weird.”

“He’s a mentor to younger students,” Narcissa responded with the same tone Andromeda had used when correcting her runic translations. “He helps train them in magic beyond the Hogwarts curriculum, which you know is terribly limited in certain areas. He can’t help how they fawn, and, if they get caught breaking rules, it’s their own fault.” 

“The Malfoy’s just made all their money in the past century - scamming muggles like some halfblood swinder.”

“Now you just sound like Mummy,” Narcissa scoffed. 

Andromeda tried a different angle. “I’ve heard he’s been really terrible to girls.”

Narcissa tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at this. “Terrible in what way?”

Andromeda did not want to have this conversation, but she did not want her sister to go on a date with Lucius more. In the end, it did not matter as she did not have the language anyway. 

“Just - untoward.” 

Narcissa’s posture relaxed, and she asked, “And from whom did you hear this?” She looked at Andromeda with one sleek eyebrow raised and her blue-grey eyes wide and skeptical. 

“Just - around. Other prefects.” Andromeda knew she had lost. She slumped in her chair.

“People are just jealous and inclined to spread rumors. Even prefects. You should know better than to believe them.” 

“Just be careful, Cissy.”

“Am I ever not?” Narcissa smiled one of her perfectly charming smiles and tossed her long blonde hair behind her shoulders. Andromeda’s gut churned. 

Now her sister was going to the party with Lucius Malfoy of all people, and, to make matters worse, she had to find a remotely acceptable boy to go with, and there were very few, if any, of those. She could go by herself, but that would further cement her as the awkward, aloof Black sister who had little interest in anyone outside her family. That was not a completely false perception, of course, but that didn’t mean that she liked the reputation. 

Andromeda did not want to ask anyone who might think a date with her was a potential opening  gambit to marrying into the Black family. That would be her parent’s decision. Her only contribution to the husband question was an insistence that, whoever he was, he would allow her to study to be a Healer and work as one. Her parents could assess blood and family trees and determine the best match, and his ultimate identity barely mattered.

Andromeda didn’t want to ask anyone too dull or too political, which eliminated nearly all of the boys outside of Slytherin and half of those in Slytherin. She could get Phillipe to give his apologies to Dorothea and take her instead; he did owe her, but it would crush poor Dorothea and make Phillipe very cross. 

Andromeda looked around the common room, assessing students. A sharp-featured, dark-haired boy was reading a thick Transfiguration text in front of the fireplace. The boy, Antony Travers, a pureblood, would be decent enough, but he was going with Louise Walmsley, halfblood. Across from Travers, a hulking blonde sat doodling in the margins of the same Transfiguration text. Ernest Goyle, a pureblood, might be fun, but he would definitely see a marriage alliance with the Blacks out of the party invitation, and she was not marrying into that family. In the past four generations, they had two squibs and had done a poor job of covering it up.

Her eyes landed on a boy with dark brown hair sitting at a study nook on the far side of the room. He was completely hunched over a mass of parchment, writing furiously. 

Graham Anderson, half-blood. Not a member of Slug Club but would like to be. He would owe her. He would know that there was no possibility of a marriage given his pedigree, and he was smart enough to hold a conversation. They were almost-friends already. Perfect. 

Graham alleged he wanted to work “in the Ministry,” but with his course schedule and his vague words it was clear “in the Ministry” meant as an Unspeakable. He might make it - especially if she continued inviting him to Slughorn’s events. She appreciated the half-blood strivers in Slytherin who didn’t bother to pretend that magic and power simply comes naturally. For many elite families, being seen as working too hard was shameful, almost embarrassing to be forced to struggle and sweat. She appreciated Graham’s honesty and appreciated the company as they struggled through runes and potions essays together in the common room after everyone else had gone to sleep. 

Even if Slughorn hadn’t picked up on it yet, she knew he was going far after Hogwarts, and it wouldn’t hurt for him to owe her for more than just the occasional set of notes. It wouldn’t be terrible after all to bring him to the party and may actually be almost enjoyable for all involved.

“All right, Cissy,” Andromeda sighed. “Let me find myself a date.”  

She crossed the common room, slipping by a crowd of first years playing gobstones and a pair of fifth years surrounded by Defense Against the Dark Arts notes who looked about ready to put some Dark Arts into practice with the gobstones players if they didn’t quiet down immediately. 

“Anderson.” 

He looked up from his potions essay. She had to write the same one that night and wondered if he’d let her read over his first. 

“Black.” 

“Fancy going to Slughorn’s Yule party with me?”

He looked almost startled but covered it quickly. Andromeda smiled. That was an amusing reaction. 

“Yes, I’d love to,” he said calmly with a small smile of his own. 

Of course the halfblood would. 

“Wonderful. Can I read over your potions notes?”

Graham almost smirked. “Sure - here,” he said as he pushed over a roll of parchment. She sat across the table from him and began skimming. 

Andromeda loved a conversation where everyone knew exactly what was going on and everyone got something that they wanted. It was such a clear and civilized way of living. As she read over his notes, she glanced back up at him. With his dark brown hair and pale skin, the two of them would be a nice matching set going to the party together. Narcissa should be pleased. 

She glanced back at her sister and gave her a nod across the common room. Narcissa offered a small shrug in return as if saying “See? Dates will be fun,” and turned back to her runes. 

She didn’t mind going with Graham, really. It was Lucius she was more concerned with. 

At exactly 7pm on Wednesday, Andromeda arrived at the trophy room for her first detention for the offense of defending her sister from a trigger-happy Hufflepuff, the first detention of her life. She did not want to be present for a minute longer than required. 

Argus Filch and Teddy Tonks were waiting for her in the large room with walls full of silver, gold, brass, and bronze cups, trophies, and plaques. Andromeda refused to look at Teddy, whose fault it was that she was there in the first place, which was potentially forgivable except that she had also deliberately hexed her sister, which was very much not. Out the corner of her eye, she could see Teddy bouncing slightly on her feet in nervousness or excitement or boredom. 

Filch, that pathetic creep of a man, announced with a failed attempt at authority, “I’m afraid I cannot supervise you tonight as I need to watch the second year Gryffindors who are mucking out the owerly tonight. They cannot, under any circumstances, be without supervision, but I trust that you two will follow instructions on your own. Clean the trophy room. Absolutely NO magic. I’ll be back at nine.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Filch,” Andromeda offered politely. 

After Filch shut the door, she turned to her bucket. Two hours of dirt and grime and two hours of ignoring that Hufflepuff. A survivable waste of time. 

Andromeda dipped a rag into her bucket and grabbed the nearest trophy. 

“So, since we’re stuck together, why don’t we just try to start anew.” Teddy’s inappropriately cheerful voice interrupted her scrubbing. “I’m Teddy Tonks.” 

Andromeda could see Teddy sticking out her hand out of the corner of her eye. 

“I know that. We’re in Herbology and Defense together. You’re the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain - not that Quidditch is of any real importance.” Andromeda refused to look away from the 1754 Chess Tournament Champion trophy she was polishing. She rubbed her rag in rough circles on the front, trying to rub out her own frustration. 

Andromeda was being rude, she knew, but she was not going to spend her detention chatting with this Hufflepuff who hexed her sister. Two hours was already long enough, and it did not need to be made longer with inane conversation. 

“Oh!” 

Andromeda heard the note of surprise and pleasure in her voice. Yes, of course I know who you are. She rolled her eyes. 

“And you’re Andromeda Black.” 

“Obviously.” 

Andromeda didn’t mean to be quite such a bitch, but it was wildly unfair she was here in detention when she did nothing but defend her sister, but that was ultimately Rosier and Yaxley’s fault, and she shouldn’t hold Teddy to it. But Teddy did hex her sister. 

Andromeda took a breath and wiped her hands on her robes. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Andromeda.” She reached out to shake Teddy’s hand. Teddy’s palms were callused and her grip was firm. With handshake and introductions over and done with, Andromeda turned back towards the trophy and prepared to ignore the Hufflepuff for the rest of the evening. 

“If we could just apologize to each other for what we did, I think these detentions could be more pleasant.”

Merlin’s bloody beard.

“You hexed my sister,” Andromeda hissed, tossing the rag into the bucket and flinging soapy water over her front. “No, I will not apologize for hexing you in response. Did you just think she’d be an easier target than Rosier or Yaxley? Or do you just have it out for her?” 

“It was an accident! I was aiming for Rosier but I was afraid of hitting Albert. I missed!”

“Yes, I’m sure that the girl who made eight shots on goal in the game against Ravenclaw two weeks ago just missed.” 

Teddy immediately brightened. “So you do pay attention to Quidditch,” Teddy said with a teasing smile. Andromeda noticed the dimples on her lightly freckled cheeks and ignored them. 

“I said Quidditch was not important, not that I am ignorant of it.”

“Anyway, I’m much better on a broom than I am on foot. I have many fine qualities but I have been known to be a tad clumsy.” 

As if to prove the point, the large plate that she had been polishing slipped from her fingers and landed on the ground with a deafening crash. 

“Oh fuck me,” Teddy said as she inspected the plate, which appeared undamaged by the fall. “Well if it survived for,” she checked the date, “three hundred and forty two years I suppose one interaction with me couldn’t hurt it.” 

Teddy smiled again at Andromeda. The dimple on her left cheek somehow made her seem both more mischievous and more trustworthy, and her hazel eyes got squinty when she smiled. Her messy, dark blonde hair fell over her forehead. Andromeda found herself smiling back despite herself and quickly turned back to her own trophy wall to avoid anything further. 

They polished in silence for a while. Andromeda’s fingers grew pruned and sore, and she kept accidentally spilling water on herself. She tried looking for family names, but that began to remind her of being forced to study and recite the family tree to her ever critical grandmother. This work was dull, and, even worse, utterly useless. Why couldn’t Filch have them doing anything with a purpose? She could be finishing her potions essay or tutoring Narcissa in runes or catching up on course reading. She did not have time for this. 

“This is a waste of time,” she announced finally, drawing her wand. “Filch is a Squib. He has no idea whether or not we use magic to clean.” She waved her wand, whispering “Scourgify” four times as she faced each wall before finally pointing her wand towards her own chest, tapping it lightly, and muttering one last Scourgify as the soapy grime on her robes disappeared. 

Teddy stared at her with an awestruck impression. 

“What?” Andromeda asked. 

“I’m not sure whether to compliment you on your little rebellion, Miss Prefect, or laugh at your impatience with non-magical cleaning. Have you ever had to clean something without magic before?”

“No, but that’s hardly the point.” 

“Ooh the pureblood princess had to clean by hand and didn’t last twenty minutes.” 

Andromeda chose to ignore the comment and Teddy’s teasing smile and whatever strange feeling they created in her chest. She sat in a corner, drew the scroll of Transfiguration Today out of her robe, and began to read. She got half a sentence into “Transfiguration & Energy Transfer: Alcoholic Beverages Under Gamp’s Law,” before she was interrupted. 

“You know, it’ll look awfully suspicious if there’s no evidence of muggle cleaning at all.”

“Will it now?” Andromeda said without looking up from the text. 

“Yes, I think we’d better have a little bit of a mess - maybe a sudsy streak on the floor or a bubble or two in your hair…” 

Andromeda leapt up. “Don’t you dare. Why do you insist on provoking me?” She waved the scroll vigorously, fully aware of how ridiculous she must look. “Let’s just survive this detention. Quietly.” 

“Relax!” Teddy put her hands in the air in mock defeat. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you. I remember how that stinging hex felt. Just an idea.” 

Andromeda tried to return to her scroll, but she reread the same sentence several times without processing it (something something energy transfer exception something Gamp’s Law). She was being unfair, she knew. The aloof pureblood bitch as usual. Teddy might not be lying about accidentally hexing her sister, and Transfiguration Today was really not all that interesting. 

She put away the scroll, and, with a sly smile and a flick of her wand, she sent a small spray of water from her bucket directly at Teddy’s cheek. 

“Ah!” Teddy cried, breaking out into a wide grin. “Oh you’re on.” She grabbed two sopping wet rags in her hands. “Quiet detention, my ass!” 

She flung them both at Andromeda, who ducked under the one and had the other smack her face, wrapping around her chin and sliding down her neck. 

Andromeda ripped the rag off her neck with her left hand and tossed it rather pathetically at Teddy who easily stepped out of the way and into a dramatic pirouette. 

“Oh, come on, Black! I’m sure you can throw better than that!” she called out, eyes bright. 

Andromeda gave up on tossing rags, leaving that for the Chaser, and instead returned to using her wand to direct small streams of water at Teddy, who managed to dance away from some while others hit her in the face and body offering up light little splashes. Her short hair was mussed and her cheeks glittered with water. 

Teddy’s attempts at avoiding the water grew increasingly dramatic, and Andromeda had to laugh when Teddy attempted a spread eagle jump to avoid a shot at her legs. 

Teddy winked and attempted another spin to slip by another stream of water, but stepped in a puddle and spun wildly, landing with a thud on the ground. She lay unmoving on the stone floor. 

“Merlin, are you ok?” Andromeda cried as she rushed over to help Teddy up. “I didn’t mean to.” As Andromeda reached the prone Hufflepuff, Teddy raised her wand arm and, with a swish and a flick, sent her bucket up and over Andromeda, dumping its contents all over both of them. 

“Ack!” Andromeda cried. 

Teddy laid, soaking wet and grinning. “I win!” 

“For now, Tonks.” Andromeda offered her an arm to help her up.

“Is this a trick, Black?” Teddy looked up and down at Andromeda, appraising her carefully. 

“Well, get up on your own then! Fuck me if I try to do something nice.”

“No, I’m just kidding.” Teddy reached for Andromeda’s arm, and Andromeda pulled her up. “Truce?”

“Truce,” Andromeda said. “Though you did start it,” she added. 

“No, I very much did not! You sent the water first.”

“It was your idea!”

“But I was very much going to respect your wishes for a quiet detention, princess.” 

Andromeda scoffed. “Even muggleborns know we don’t have royalty in the wizarding world, right?” 

Didn’t they know that? She realized she knew very little of what muggleborns know and didn’t know. 

“Oh I know - I just thought it might ruffle your posh feathers a bit.” 

Teddy winked, and there was an awkward pause as Andromeda was not sure how to reply. She Scrougify’d the room and their robes again for something to do. 

Yes, my feathers are ruffled, thank you very much, but it also felt mortifyingly pleasant, but I’m obviously not going to say that to you. I just want you to keep smiling at me, but I refuse to engage this further.

“Um, so how is Quidditch going this year?” Andromeda asked, grasping for a single topic to distract Teddy from whatever just passed between them. 

It was the right question to ask to change the subject. Teddy lit up and launched into the full story of that year’s Hufflepuff team from tryouts (“Obviously I had some idea going into it what I wanted the team to look like, but I also wanted to be fair and give everyone an equal shot”) to team dynamics (“One of our beaters, Jones, really works best with a lot of praise, but our other beater needs clear instructions and feedback and feels babied if I give her too much praise,”) to strategy.

“It’s hard to explain without a visual aid so let me just grab these sponges… These are a few of the Chaser formations I want us to use in the spring.” 

Andromeda laughed. “Are you really going to show me, a member of a different house, your exact strategy for your next game?” She shook her head gently. “You’d make a terrible Slytherin.”

“It could be a clever ruse. I’d let you take a false strategy back to Worsley, and then we’ll surprise him with our true plays in February.” 

Andromeda looked at Teddy skeptically while Teddy attempted a serious expression before breaking out into another grin. 

“Fair enough,” Teddy said. “Though I trust that you won’t do that. You’d make a good Hufflepuff  I think.” 

“And it was my boredom with muggle cleaning that led you to that conclusion? A great example of ‘unafraid of toil?’” Andromeda drawled. 

“No - your loyalty to your sister and to your friends. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you covered for them with Slughorn. And I know you wouldn’t share what I told you with Worsley.” 

“I think you may be very mistaken then. Slytherins are very loyal to our own. And I never said that I wouldn’t share that Quidditch info.”

“Nah, you won’t. I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

Andromeda couldn’t decide if she wanted to let Teddy maintain her naiveté or be the one to break it. Better now with me than when she’s in real danger. But Teddy was right, she had no interest in getting involved in Quidditch or in sharing Chaser formations. 

“I’m sure judging character is very difficult in Hufflepuff. ‘Oh gosh, everyone here is just oh so nice and such a good person and would never do anything manipulative or cruel,’” she mocked. 

“I’m glad to hear that you have such a high opinion of my House, but, no it’s not like that.” She stared straight at Andromeda, her hazel eyes meeting Andromeda’s grey ones. “I think you’re kinder than you pretend to be.” 

“Tonks, the world is a crueler place than you realize. If you grow too trusting of me, you will regret it.” 

The accidental honesty hung in the air for a moment until the door to the trophy room suddenly burst open. Filch was covered in what looked to be owl droppings and was absolutely enraged. “You’re done for the night! Back to your dorms. Those Gryffindors! I’ll have them hanging by their toes for the rest of the year!” 

Andromeda was not going to dawdle for more awkward conversation. She had already been more open than she ought to be. Andromeda immediately stood and hurried out of the room with Teddy following her. Filch continued raving down the hall. 

“G’night, Black,” Teddy said at the doorway. 

“Good night, Tonks,” she replied, barely turning to look at the Hufflepuff as she continued walking towards the dungeons. 

What the actual fuck was she thinking. Clearly, she wasn’t. Andromeda pushed any thoughts of Quidditch captains with charming smiles out of her head as she hurried back down to the Slytherin common room. She had a Potions essay to finish.

Chapter Text

In December, the weather took a turn for the brutally cold. Except for class or Quidditch practice with a particularly sadistic captain, students were trapped in the castle. 

Andromeda started to see that damn Hufflepuff everywhere. The Hufflepuff was in Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and, whereas before, her presence on the other side of a large classroom or greenhouse was easily ignorable, now her breath and her magic and her laugh were oppressively loud. She was constantly in the corridors and in the Great Hall at mealtimes. And when she wasn’t, Andromeda kept mistaking fourth year boys with sandy blonde hair or students in yellow Hufflepuff scarves forTeddy. One fourth year Ravenclaw in particular had Teddy’s exact hair and build, and he seemed to be everywhere. It was distracting. 

Of course, Andromeda did not greet Teddy when she saw the real one. Andromeda associated only with other Slytherins or Black family relatives, and she had successfully ignored the existence of the entire Hufflepuff house for five and half years, but, twice in Herbology, once in Defense, and once in the Great Hall, she made eye contact with Teddy.  Accidentally. When they made eye contact in Defense, Teddy had winked at her. Andromeda dropped her eyes at once.

It was distracting. Not that she was distract-ed - Andromeda had more self-control than that -  but it was distract-ing in a vague and nonspecific and nonpersonal sort of way which had nothing to do with either of them in particular. 

After Potions (a class without any winking Quidditch captains, thank Merlin and Morgana), Andromeda approached Professor Slughorn. 

She stood at his desk with perfect posture and smoothed her robes. “Professor Slughorn? May I ask you something?”

Slughorn looked up from the papers at his desk he was organizing with his thick, jewel-covered fingers. 

“Yes, Miss Black?” he replied. “I do so look forward to reading your essay. You always write so lyrically about potions.”

“Oh, thank you, Professor. I’ve just learned so much in N.E.W.T. Potions this year.” She smiled her best bland, flattering smile. “I’m looking forward to your Yule party next week. I was wondering - will anyone from St. Mungo’s be there?”

“Oh, of course! Healer Awachi, the blood curses department chair and a great former student of mine, will be in attendance. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to her for some time! She has such a knack for experimental potions, but she prefers the excitement of the hospital to research. You’re still set on a career in Healing?”

“Yes, very much so. I’m also in Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, and Runes.”

“Everything you need, in other words, my dear girl. But what a busy year!”

And here was her in. 

“It is a bit much, but I know I can handle it. It’s just a bit difficult with the detentions on top of my coursework and prefect duties. You know I’ve never had detention before, and hours of muggle cleaning does not seem to be of use to the castle or the profession.”

Slughorn straightened up. “Argus had you cleaning like muggles? Apollyon would never have-” Slughorn shook his head and gave a little tut. “New hires. No respect for the institution they serve.” 

Yes, Professor. What else did you think he would have us do?

“The whole trophy room by hand,” she said as neutrally as possible. 

Slughorn looked concerned by the thought of having made a Black clean like a muggle, however indirectly. “Well, I can’t just let you out of the detentions - it would be unfair to Miss Tonks. And I can’t let students get away with fighting in the hallways.” He paused and put his hand to his chin.

“Maybe I could assist you with potions? Organizing your supplies?” 

Please let me spend an hour with you rather than with some impertinent hazel-eyed muggleborn.

“There’s an idea!” he laughed. “But it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, then, would it?” He winked. 

Andromeda forced a smile. “No, I suppose not.” 

“I have it! Why don’t you and Teddy assist the new Professor Sprout in her greenhouses. I know she can always use extra work, and I know that a little extra knowledge of potions ingredients and healing herbs will be of use to you. Healer Awachi always said that wizarding medicine would be miles ahead if Healers took Herbology more seriously.”

Before Andromeda could suggest that perhaps she and Teddy could serve separate detentions, perhaps far apart or on different days, Slughorn had already whipped out a piece of parchment and began writing a note to Sprout. 

“Glad we could work this out! Now, no fighting in the corridors in the future?”

“Of course, Professor.” Andromeda smoothed her fake cheerful smile in to a falsely grateful one and left the classroom. 

More time in the greenhouses could be useful. And perhaps Sprout  would have the sense to separate the two of them - since they were in detention for fighting each other. Otherwise, Andromeda would just need to get better at tuning out charming smiles and teasing remarks from Hufflepuffs. Which shouldn’t be too hard. Which actually should be very easy. There was no reason to think otherwise. With renewed confidence, Andromeda walked down the corridor with her head high and her shoes clicking on the stone floor. 

As Slughorn had suggested, Professor Sprout was delighted to have two of her N.E.W.T. students for extra labor in the greenhouses. She opened the door to Greenhouse Three for them with a wide smile on her round face and bid them to enter. 

The greenhouse was warm and humid, a welcome shock from the dry, cold air of the Hogwarts grounds. The glass walls were almost completely fogged, and thick, emerald-green plants hung from the ceiling and grew up the walls. 

Professor Sprout showed them to the plants that were to be their detention projects. 

She was a head shorter than Andromeda, and her hair surrounded her round face in a ring of brown curls. Andromeda thought she was not unattractive, just appropriately earthy. She was new this year, and the young professor was still getting her footing, but she knew the subject well, treated her students fairly, and was alive, which made her more qualified than some of her colleagues. She was a halfblood, with some Crabbe ancestry (a grandmother, if Andromeda remembered correctly), and Andromeda could see the heritage in the roundness of her face. 

“Please massage each plant for at least twenty minutes before moving onto the next one, though the more you can do the better,” she instructed in her cheerful, clipped voice. “The Dingelberk berries are usable without a root massage, but it’ll make them more powerful in burn treatments if the plants are happy. And just like people - these plants love a foot massage! Happy plants mean happy potions. Any questions?”

Andromeda and Teddy shook their heads as they stared at the row of large potted plants. They hadn’t said a word to each other so far that evening, and Andromeda hoped it would stay that way. 

Sprout beamed at the two students. “I’ll be in Greenhouse One grading first year essays. Please wish me well in that endeavour, and just knock on the door if you have any questions. We can walk back to the castle together at nine.”

As Sprout exited the greenhouse, Andromeda and Teddy put on their thick, elbow-length gardening gloves and set to work on the plants. Andromeda stuck her forearms into the muck and began feeling for the roots while the smell of wet earth filled her nostrils. 

“So tell me about your family. What’s it like being a Black?” Teddy asked while elbows deep in her own Dingelberk pot.

Andromeda almost choked. 

Teddy continued, deliberately oblivious of Andromeda’s reaction. “Lots of fancy balls and cursed gemstones and arranged marriages?” The edge of mockery in her voice was softened by her wide grin. 

Andromeda couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or charmed by the sheer cheek of it.

“Let’s not talk about my family,” Andromeda said quickly, attempting to sound casual and certainly failing. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, punctuated by the squelching of muddy soil. She found a small knot in a root and tried to gently rub it out. “So, um, what’s it like being raised by muggles?”

Teddy laughed. “Normal? As you might imagine, every family is different. There’s no standard muggle family. It’s just… normal.” She paused and continued. “My family’s from a mining town in the north of England. Well, it used to be a mining town. The mine shut down around the same time I got my Hogwarts letter.”

Andromeda her head turned to look at her. “So in a muggle mining town, what does the mining? Obviously not goblins.”

Teddy laughed again. Andromeda wasn’t sure if she was being laughed with or laughed at, but Teddy’s laugh was kind and gentle, and she didn’t mind the sound as much as she expected to. 

“No, obviously not goblins. People do. Mostly men - my dad and my uncles and my grandfather were all miners,” Teddy ticked off. “It is dangerous though. My great-uncle died in a mining accident.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright - that was half a century ago, and everyone would rather have the mine stay open and dangerous than closed and deadly in its own way.” She glanced at Andromeda, smile faltering. “My sister left, married a man in Manchester. My parents are still there doing not much of anything now.” 

“And how do they feel about you being a witch?” 

Teddy brightened, and Andromeda liked being able to make her smile. She would happily keep her hands in muck for hours if Teddy kept smiling at her like that. 

“Dad’s so proud. Whenever I’m home, he wants to hear stories about classes and Quidditch and spells and adventures. He knows I’m in the badger house, and when he sees anything in a shop that has a badger on it he has to get it for me. Luckily not many badger-related items in the muggle world or I’d be drowning in them. He wants to tell the world about me - he’s so proud.”

“But he won’t, right?” Andromeda asked quickly. Any muggle knowing about their world was risky. Even if one was alright about it, that muggle could tell another, who could tell another, and then they’d have the tenth century all over again. 

“Of course not!” Teddy withdrew a hand from her pot vigorously and a bit of mud landed on her cheek. “We take the Statute of Secrecy very seriously. The Ministry’s no joke about enforcing it. Dad just tells people I got a scholarship to an exclusive boarding school in Scotland.” 

Teddy paused and stuck her hands back into the soil with another loud squelch. “Mum’s not as into the magic thing. I think it scares her a bit, but she’s proud too.” 

Teddy paused again to work on a particularly stubborn knot. Slightly more aggressively, she continued, “My sister married a twat who already hates me because I’m unacceptably gay (‘and not even the quiet kind’), and he’d probably hate the witch thing too. They were so outraged when I came home last Christmas with short hair.” 

Teddy turned to Andromeda again and smiled, the nice, fake family smile that Andromeda knew well. 

The bigotry and bias made more sense to Andromeda with what she knew about muggles and how small-minded they tended to be, but she decided not to press the subject more for fear of saying something offensive. Andromeda was familiar with many topics, but the intricacies of muggle habits were not one of them.

“I think it looks nice short.” Andromeda glanced back down to her plant. The round leaves had begun unfurling slightly, which she knew as a good sign. She concentrated on examining each leaf closely. One of them was much rounder than the others, and she stared closely at the odd leaf as she added, "You hair, I mean."

“Thanks,” Teddy replied almost sheepishly as she tried to push her curls back with the part of her arm not completely covered in mud. She managed to get a bit of dirt on her hairline in the process. “Bones did it at first after our match against Ravenclaw last year. It was, uh, rather impulsive. Chetty’s helped since.” 

She was enjoying Teddy’s company enough that she decided to believe her when she said she only struck Narcissa by accident. A dropped pot earlier that evening had been a decisive piece of evidence.

Massaging the roots was difficult and messy work (fair enough for a detention), but it was useful, unlike cleaning without magic. Massaging the roots with care made  the berries powerful additions to potions for healing burn wounds. Connection with the plant meant better understanding of the potion, which meant better understanding of the treatment. If she were to be an excellent Healer, which she was determined to be, she could deal with roots and muck. As she moved her hands to another root stem, the plant shifted slightly as if in a slight breeze. Andromeda hoped the movement was a result of pleasure or whatever the equivalent for a plant is. 

“So, um, how do your parents feel about you being… gay?”

Merlin, she was so awkward. Why did she think this was a less treacherous topic than wizard-muggle relations? 

Again, Teddy laughed, and, again, Andromeda wondered if she were laughing with her or at her. The whole conversation was unsteadying. 

“Similar to being a witch - dad’s completely fine with it, which was a little surprising since it’s not really normal or accepted in my town in general, and he can be a bit old fashioned, but he thinks men are rubbish and dangerous and is grateful I’m not going to run off with a bloke he hates - like my sister did,” she responded with a laugh. “Mum pretends she just doesn’t know, but that’s alright. Could be worse. England only just legalized homosexual sex our first year at Hogwarts.”

“They what? Your ministry would get involved with that?”  Now Andromeda really was curious. Muggles were so impossibly strange. “How did that even work? It’s not like they have surveillance charms? Did they have..." Andromeda tried to consider the correct muggle terminology and decided to try: "...sexual investigators?”

Teddy barked out a laugh before growing more serious. “Well, it wasn’t really easily enforced, but men did go to jail. It’s not like the wizarding world is so progressive either.” 

“True, but no one is going to Azkaban for that.” 

Andromeda paused, wondering if she should share any information about her family with Teddy. She did seem trustworthy (was that just a Hufflepuff quality? An utterly endearing absence of guile?), and it’s not as though she’d share anything that a pureblood in her circle would not know. 

“My Uncle Alphard lives in Paris with his ‘roommate,’ and no one bats an eye.”

“Really, now?” Teddy withdrew both her hands from the muck in order to fully turn and stare at Andromeda. Her hazel eyes were wide with shock and delight. “I’d have thought that you purebloods would be wildly prudish and conservative,” she teased. 

Andromeda couldn’t help smiling in response and felt a rush of warmth in her chest. She liked getting that reaction out of Teddy. 

“Well, he’s a second son of a second son, and his siblings went and got married young and had children as expected,” Andromeda responded. “He had a bit more freedom because of that. Alphard and Louis don’t come to many family engagements, but he hasn’t been blasted off the family tree or anything dramatic.”

“So your parents would be fine if you ended up with a woman?” Teddy seemed rather taken aback by this news, and Andromeda decided not to read anything into it. The humidity of the greenhouse began to overwhelm her. Andromeda wondered if they should crack the door open and let some of the icy air in to settle them both. 

“Oh no, no, no,” Andromeda insisted. “Today that wouldn’t be accepted, and definitely not for me. There’s a bit more… pressure now. The Malfoys, Crabbes, Pettigrews, Potters and a number of other families only have one male heir. The Selwyns don’t have any.” She sighed. “There’s a real concern about lines dying out. It’s a dangerous time for us. You might have noticed increasing… vigor in defending our families and traditions and ensuring our lines continue because of the precarity.” 

“I’m a muggleborn at Hogwarts. I’ve definitely noticed that increasing ‘vigor,’” Teddy said firmly. Teddy took her hands out of her plant and moved down the row away from Andromeda to the next one.  

Teddy had stopped smiling for the first time that evening. This was a mistake. This was not where she wanted this conversation to go. She was trying to avoid discussing wizarding politics with a sweet and dimpled and unexpectedly charming muggleborn Hufflepuff. 

Andromeda took a deep breath and, without looking away from her plant, said, “I’m sorry about Rosier and Yaxley and what they did to Albert.” 

“Sorry enough to try to stop them?” Teddy asked, her tone neutral. 

“I was trying, you know, when you came by.” Andromeda struggled to find the right ones to make Teddy understand. She continued, “He really does need to be more careful though. What he said was quite personal and quite offensive, and it’s not as if people are going to let insults to their family slide. It’s family.” 

Andromeda stared at the plant in front of her wishing it could put an end to the topic. There was no good way to have this conversation and no clean way to end it. She turned from her plant to look at Teddy. Teddy looked as though she was about to speak  - or maybe even yell - then closed her eyes, sighed, and turned back to her own plant. 

They massaged roots in uncomfortable silence until Professor Sprout returned and said it was time to return to the castle. The pair walked awkwardly up the dark grounds with Sprout in between them casting a strong Lumos to guide their way. Andromeda stole glances at Teddy, but Teddy refused to look at her and stared intently at the dark grass beneath her feet. 

After Professor Sprout left them in the Entrance Hall, Andromeda took a deep breath and tried again. 

“I am sorry, Teddy. About how they were treating Albert. They shouldn’t have been so harsh with him.” 

Teddy paused before responding. Andromeda hated that she wasn’t smiling. Teddy didn’t even look angry. She just looked tired. 

“You think it’s just about Albert. Like he’s the only muggleborn child at this school who’s been attacked like that. ‘Vigor.’ Seriously, just never mind. I don’t know why I bothered - my own naiveté. I’ll see you in detention next week, Black.” 

Teddy continued into the castle and walked away, leaving Andromeda standing alone in the entrance hall feeling very, very small. 

Andromeda spent the rest of the week in classes studiously taking notes, in the library writing Potions essays, and in the common room helping Narcissa practice charms. With six NEWT courses, Andromeda did not have space in her schedule for detention.  Only two more to go.

(Only two more with that Hufflepuff, about whom she was not thinking. About whom she never thought.) 

Bellatrix was the natural talent in the family. She was the one with the terrifying power rippling beneath her skin who had performed OWL spells her first summer back from Hogwarts. Andromeda, the second tier sister, had to make do with studying. A year and half of Hogwarts classes, NEWTs, then four years of Healer training, then two years of advanced practice, and then the lime green Healer robes would be hers. (Though she hoped they would upgrade the color. Tradition or no, lime green was not a good color on her or anyone.) 

Andromeda and Narcissa prepared for Slughorn’s Yule Party in the prefect’s bathroom. The Slytherin dormitory was nice enough, but this was much nicer, and they were less likely to be bothered by someone angling for a last minute invitation. 

Small makeup pots and perfume bottles were laid out on the counter along with a Witch Weekly spread on modern hair style techniques. The witch in the picture smiled blankly as her hair twisted up and down. 

If Bellatrix had the natural talent and power, Narcissa had the natural beauty. She was the one sister to inherit their mother’s pale blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. She had more of the Rosier look - the delicate nose, chin, but the high Black cheekbones and grace. Twice, Narcissa had men tell her she must be part-Veela, as if it were a compliment to be a half-breed. Men tended to make fools of themselves around Narcissa, which both Bellatrix and Andromeda found endlessly amusing when it was not concerning. 

“I know you don’t want to have this conversation again…” Andromeda tried.

“Then let’s not,” offered Narcissa as she put on emerald and crystal earrings with dainty, manicured fingers. 

Andromeda stopped trying on jewelry to turn to look directly at her sister, picking her way carefully through her words.

“Just be careful with him. I know he can be charming, and he’s a seventh year, but he’s not a good person.”

Narcissa sighed and continued staring at her reflection, refusing to look at Andromeda. “I know you don’t like him, Andromeda, but he’s my Yule date, and I want to go with him. Please, just drop it.” 

Andromeda noted the tiny bit of steel in Narcissa’s response.

“Fine. Cissy, just -”

“Just be careful, yes I know. I always am,” said Narcissa, words clipped. “You’d be shocked to learn that I can handle myself without you and Bella surveilling my every movement and cursing any men who attempt to touch me.”

Andromeda considered countering that it had been one time, the spell-caster had been Bellatrix, and Narcissa had only been thirteen years old, but there was no point in pressing it any further, and Andromeda knew she had already gone too far. Narcissa was right. If anyone could handle herself around terrible men, it was Narcissa. Andromeda helped finish pinning Narcissa’s hair and switched the conversation to the much safer topic of which celebrities and ministry officials would be at the party. 

Sometimes Andromeda thought that Narcissa just played with fashion in order to prove she was the most beautiful in the room. A jealous Ravenclaw said her face wasn’t even that pretty, and people were just blinded by her long, blonde hair? Hair was up and hidden away in a jeweled hair piece. She was too pale? The simple grey dress just made her seem otherworldly amongst a mortal crowd. She loved that about Narcissa. She never engaged in petty social battles, and she would never reveal that she noticed such comments, but she always won. 

As Andromeda expected, Graham and Lucius waited for them outside the bathroom. She watched with poorly disguised revulsion as Lucius bent low and kissed Narcissa’s hand. With Lucius in his formal black dress robes and white-blonde hair tied back with a black velvet ribbon and Narcissa in her long, grey dress, which looked closer to white against his robes, it could have been a wedding. What a disgusting thought. Andromeda gave him the smallest nod by way of greeting. Lucius only smiled a perfect serpent’s grin in response. 

Graham bent low in a flamboyant, exaggerated bow and made eye contact with her. Andromeda gave him a small, contained grin. While Graham secured sufficient plausible deniability, she knew he was mocking Lucius, and she was deeply grateful for anyone knocking Lucius down a peg, no matter how subtly. 

Taking Graham as her date was a good choice. 

Once Lucius and Narcissa were halfway down the hallway arm in arm and thoroughly distracted, Graham reached into his deep blue dress robes and drew out a silver flask, offering it to her. 

Taking Graham was a very good choice. Maybe this event would be enjoyable after all.

Slughorn’s annual Yule party was open only to fifth years and older students, a rule put in place only after an unnamed top ministry official was caught kissing a drunk fourth year Ravenclaw the year before Andromeda’s time at Hogwarts. (Andromeda still had not learned the identity of the official, not for lack of trying. It seemed as though someone had done a careful series of Obliviation to cover their tracks.) Dumbledore, who never seemed to put much effort into regulating the behavior of his professors or students, kept at least somewhat of a closer eye on the Slug Club after that -- whether to avoid any corrupting influence on younger students or scandal with the Ministry, Andromeda wasn’t sure. 

After introducing Graham to Ahmed Shafiq (close family friend of the Black family and an Unspeakable - Graham would owe her), she found Slughorn, surrounded by a gaggle of current and former students, thoroughly in his element. Gold dress robes, beaming, an aureate spider at the center of his web. 

“Oh, Miss Black!” Slughorn crowed cheerfully. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. I had so wanted to introduce you to Healer Awachi, but she was unable to make it. A patient came to St. Mungo’s with a nasty blood curse a few hours ago -- apparently the stuff was leaking out of his eyeballs -- and they needed her expertise.” 

She offered more flattery and gentle disappointment and firm reassurance that she looked forward to meeting the expert Healer in the future before allowing Slughorn to turn back to his web of admirers. 

Disappointing, but not terribly surprising. She did enjoy a good party if the food and drinks and company were up to par, but a benefit to being a Healer meant a ready work excuse to skip any event she wanted. Andromeda looked forward to the many times she would use a patient in need to get out of a dull ball or a particularly charged family gathering or really any family gathering that included Aunt Walburga. 

She glanced around the room, trying to identify someone worth talking to while maintaining a careful eye on Lucius and Narcissa. The two blondes were chatting happily with a member of the Wizengamot - a Mac-something or other but not a Macmillan. Safe for now. Andromeda saw students trying to network and flirt, and, worse, former students trying to network and flirt. 

Never change, Slug Club, she thought to herself. 

She turned to walk towards the hors d’oeuvres and bumped into someone. “My apolo-” she started. “Oh, you. What are you doing here?” 

Teddy stared back at her, a grin on her face. (Was she always smiling?) 

“Hello to you too. I see they let you reunite with high society after that brief affair with hard labor.” 

Andromeda wanted to roll her eyes at the comment and, especially, at her own inexplicable delight at the idea that Teddy may not still be angry at her. Why did she find this damn Hufflepuff so charming?  

“Yes, somehow this hardened criminal was allowed to join the ball. I am in Slug Club. But what are you doing here?”

She watched Teddy take a sip of punch and ignore her question. Those were definitely someone else’s dress robes, borrowed and fitted without professional help. Lavender, cuffs slightly too long. Andromeda wondered who the robes belonged to. Whoever picked them had decent enough taste as the color brought out the green in her hazel eyes. 

Teddy caught her staring and winked. This time Andromeda did roll her eyes. 

“Gideon!” They both said in unison (Andromeda with relief, Teddy with exuberance) as the tall, broad Gryffindor approached them with a small plate of canapés to share. His red hair and freckles and rather large aquiline nose, all so similar to his brother’s, marked him as decidedly Prewett. 

“How do you know Gideon?” Andromeda asked. 

“How do you know Gideon? Didn’t think a Slytherin princess such as yourself associated with commoners.” 

That damn dimpled grin again! 

“Andromeda and I are, what is it, third cousins?” Gideon offered his plate to Teddy. 

“My great-aunt loves the two of them - invites them to France in the summers. Considers them ‘dashing’ and ‘charming’ and just puts a ‘no politics allowed in the house’ rule when they arrive.” 

“And this dashing young lad will always tolerate a bit of pureblood formalism and bullshit for a nice time at the beach. Only a bit, of course,” he said as he turned and smiled at Teddy. "Just the table manners and not the, you know, catastrophic denial of human rights."

Andromeda enjoyed watching her reaction to the knowledge that Gideon is still a pureblood with ties to the upper crust, Gryffindor or no. 

See, we’re not all bigoted, violent bullies, she wanted to say with an utterly inexplicable desire to defend herself to this inconsequential muggleborn girl.

“Gideon is my date tonight,” Teddy said. 

“And how do you two know each other?” Andromeda asked, gesturing at the unexpected pair.

“Ah!” Gideon cried with delight before launching into a booming speech and causing the surrounding guests to stare at the three of them. “Way back when we were wee first years, there was a young student obsessed with flying from the moment she discovered a broom in Monsieur Boucher’s flying lessons. She borrowed school brooms and spent hours zipping around the Quidditch pitch whenever it was empty!” 

Teddy put her hand over her face and raised her eyebrows at Andromeda. You asked for this, she seemed to say. 

Gideon continued, completely ignoring them. “This young child was determined to play Quidditch! Never mind that she had never touched a broom before Hogwarts! Never mind Boucher’s pathetic excuses for flying lessons! Never mind that she had no natural talent!”

“Hey!”

“Fabian, who is now flirting with that sweet fifth year girl just behind you and to my left - no, no, my left, don’t look, it’ll make him feel self-conscious - oh yes he does get self-conscious and just hides it from everyone - and I went to the pitch to have our own practice session. We were, of course, destined to make the team our second year as soon as we were allowed, but destiny is nothing without grit! When we came across this child-”

“You were my age!”

“-child in need, we knew it was our duty to help her achieve her dreams of Hogwarts Quidditch stardom. Plus, it helped to have a third so we could practice two on one. After many hours of grinding hard work first year, Teddy made Hufflepuff chaser, Fabian made Gryffindor chaser, and I, it goes without saying, made Gryffindor beater as a second year, the youngest beater in twenty years.” 

“He’s like this with you too, then?” Teddy, grinning hard and hazel eyes bright, asked Andromeda.

Andromeda shrugged. “For whatever reason, this is why Great-Aunt Lycoris loves him.”

“It’s that and my dashing good looks,” he said with a wink. 

“And you do flirt with her terribly given that she’s your great-aunt too.”

“That certainly does help as well.” 

Teddy laughed, and Andromeda couldn’t help but think it was such a good laugh. Kind and encouraging and intoxicating. Maybe it was the fault of the liquor in Graham’s flask, which reminded her - where was Graham now, anyway? 

She glanced around the party to see Shafiq speaking to another alumnus before finally setting sight on Graham performing interest at an older witch vigorously waving her hands to illustrate some sort of story. Andromeda could spot someone itching for an excuse to leave a conversation when she saw one, and she needed an excuse to escape whatever that Hufflepuff’s laugh was doing to her. 

“Good to see you, Gideon, but I think I need to go rescue my date from being bored to death. A fatality at a Slug Club event would result in unbearable paperwork for Slughorn.” She didn’t bother to say goodbye to Teddy and did her best to avoid any further eye contact with that Hufflepuff.  

With skill honed at  many years of pureblood functions, she carefully extracted Graham from the older witch. Graham offered a small, whispered, “Thank you.”

They wove through the crowd until they arrived at a slightly secluded spot behind a life-size, moving ice sculpture of a unicorn. The unicorn reared up and down and pawed at the table and dripped slowly into the desserts, creating a puddle around the macaroons. 

Andromeda thought that Slughorn could have tried a little harder to further magically expand his office if he was going to invite this many people. 

Given something approaching privacy and space to breathe, they exchanged what gossip they knew (who was sleeping with whom, who was on the outs with the Minister, whose new child still hadn't shown magic yet and could be a Squib), and passed judgment on the formalwear and attempts at sophistication amongst the students. The conversation and liquor were both welcome distractions from sandy blonde Hufflepuffs or tall white-blonde prats trying to date her sister. 

“Paisley dress robes? Salazar, just strike him down now.” 

“Yours are nice,” Andromeda offered, gesturing at the deep blue and rich fabric as Graham slipped his silver flask out of a deep pocket. “How -” she stopped herself. 

“You’re wondering how someone with my borderline muggle background can afford it?” Graham asked, one dark eyebrow lifted. Andromeda nodded. “You’d be surprised what Hogwarts students will pay for some smuggled muggle liquor or illicit potions.”

“Really now?” Andromeda responded with childlike glee.

Graham smirked in response. “We can’t all be pureblood heiresses.” 

“And why am I just learning about this now? Didn’t think I’d be a potential customer?” Andromeda didn’t bother to conceal her delight at the news as she tossed her hair back. 

“You’re the only Slytherin prefect I know who actually takes enforcing the rules against members of our own House at least somewhat seriously.”

Now it was Andromeda’s turn to laugh. She reached for the flask and added a bit more to her goblet. 

“You thought I’d turn you in to Slughorn? I just try to keep students from fighting or bullying or doing anything truly dangerous. How you choose to fund your dress robes or how students self-medicate in this place is their own business. I’m not inclined to judge.” 

After the party Andromeda went straight to the fifth year girls dormitories. Narcissa was there, awake and conscious, thank Morgana. 

“Oh, hello, Andy.” Narcissa glanced at Andromeda and continued brushing her long hair.

“Just wanted to see that you made it back alright.”

Narcissa looked at her skeptically as she continued brushing her hair. “The party was a single moving staircase away from the dorm.”

“I mean, just wanted to see if you had a good time at the party, Cissy.”

Narcissa brightened ever so slightly. “Yes, I had a lovely time. So many interesting people. To whom were you talking earlier?”

“Gideon Prewett? Our third cousin? Or Graham Anderson, my date?”

“No, and it’s third once removed I believe - the other one. The one in the lavender robes.”

“Oh - just his date. Some Hufflepuff.” 

“Oh - well she needs a better tailor.”

Andromeda felt an inexplicable need to defend Teddy, but decided against it. Cissy was right anyway. 

“Alright - goodnight, Cissy.” 

“Goodnight. Sleep well, Andy.” 

Andromeda walked down the hall to her own dormitory. As she undid her hair and unfastened her necklace, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Narcissa was fine. Safe in the dorm and awake. The party itself was not a disaster; it was even a little fun. She was beginning to truly enjoy Graham’s company beyond his role as a useful Potions partner, and it was always a delight to talk to Gideon, rare enough with Hogwarts’ house segregation. She ignored any thoughts about the Hufflepuff, but the lavender robes had brought out her eyes so nicely.

Chapter Text

For their third detention, Professor Sprout once again tasked Teddy and Andromeda with massaging Dinglelberk plant roots. She left a note in the greenhouse with their instructions, as she was needed in the castle to assist in the Hospital Wing with the outbreak of Red Harod’s amongst the third years who caught it from a Selkie in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class as it seemed this year's Defense professor was even more reckless than the last. 

Technically, nothing was stopping Andromeda from walking back to the Slytherin dormitory to the homework she ought to finish, but was oddly soothing work, even if a first year with particularly long arms and a bit of instruction could manage it. She stayed -  despite the fact that it meant she had two more hours alone with that Hufflepuff. 

Andromeda learned quickly that the best way to keep Teddy talking (and to avoid any further fraught political conversations) was to get her started on Quidditch. Andromeda liked listening to Teddy discuss the ins and outs of her team, and, while she teased Teddy about it, she kept Teddy’s thoughts to herself, as something special and private. The care and thoughtfulness Teddy showed her teammates was comforting, and Andromeda found herself rooting for the small trials of each player. 

“Now Roy MacMillon, he’s our Keeper, as you know. I love the lad, but he can be a bit of a pompous git. I have to be careful with how I captain him, because he can be quite sensitive to criticism. He takes it all personally. Now that he’s a fifth year, and it’s his second year on the team, I try to frame everything as a leadership opportunity.” Teddy put on a solicitous voice. “‘Oh MacMillon, I need you to set a good example for our newer players when we fly laps. I’ll be graduating soon, and we need you to step up as a leader’ rather than ‘Stop whinging, you prat and fly laps like everyone else.’ I find it works well.” 

Andromeda watched Teddy concentrate hard on her plant and her story. She had a bit of dirt caked on her cheek, which Andromeda found endearing despite herself. 

Teddy continued, “Though, of course, you want your Keeper a bit arrogant. It’s such a tough position mentally. Everyone’s eyes are on you when you mess up, and people remember goals more than saves. I would hate to be a Keeper. Chasing’s much more my style - we get to work together. We have fewer star moments, but we can all take responsibility when something doesn’t go our way.” 

Andromeda decided she could listen to Teddy talk about Quidditch all night. Growing up, being a fan of Quidditch meant memorizing players, statistics and positions, which was all quite dull. She was competent enough on a broom and enjoyed the freedom of flying, but the game itself seemed pointless - especially since the absurd points system ensured the Seeker decided the match nearly every time. Some fifteenth century Seeker had decided to make himself (obviously, a man had done it) the star of the game and no one had made the effort to correct it since. 

Andromeda had brought a book when her family went to the 1968 World Cup in Jakarta. They had box seats with a group of other Brits, and an old, intoxicated man tried to tell her off for reading during the match. Without attracting their parents’ notice, Bellatrix hexed him in such a way that he never spoke again for the entirety of the match and stole furtive, fearful glances at her for the rest of the evening. 

“And Violet James, our Seeker, of course, what a girl! Only a fourth year, too, so we’ll have her for a while. She’s muggleborn like me so she had no idea about Quidditch until she arrived at Hogwarts. Her brothers are all big football players - that’s a muggle sport, not sure if you’ve heard of it, you kick a ball sort of like a Quaffle - and she played with them but she was never able to play for a real team. Then she came to Hogwarts and realized our sports were co-ed!”

Teddy’s obvious joy and love for this teammate of hers and the whole team were infectious. Andromeda had no idea what football was or what “co-ed” meant, but she would happily listen to Teddy enthusiastically ramble even if every other word was as indecipherable as gobbledygook. 

Eventually, even Teddy ran out of things to say about Quidditch. Andromeda was afraid that any silence could be filled with talk of family or politics. She wasn’t quite sure why she was so concerned with avoiding any further social missteps, but she didn’t want Teddy to be disappointed in her again. The pair continued massaging roots in awkward silence. 

“Teddy, can you help me with this knot?”

Years later, Andromeda would wonder where she found the inspiration or courage to ask. There was no logic to it, no need for it, no obvious benefit from it. However, sometimes young people behave foolishly and unforgivable events follow. 

“Of course.” Teddy’s tone was light. She pulled her arms out of the pot she was working in with a loud squelch and walked over until she stood immediately behind Andromeda. 

“It’s this root, here.” Andromeda took Teddy’s hand and led it to the knot buried in the dirt as Teddy stood behind her. Andromeda could feel Teddy’s warm breath on the back of her neck as Teddy reached around. She felt Teddy’s weight gently behind her and Teddy’s arms around her as they both reached into the pot. 

Something shifted in her body, a feeling she couldn’t place. It felt like safety, and it was so unfamiliar she froze. She never wanted to move from this position. Had there been a weight on her chest her entire life? Teddy’s whole body was pressed against hers as their hands moved in tandem on the roots. Was this what people talked about when they talked about...

Oh. 

Merlin and Morgana, she was in trouble, wasn’t she. 

Teddy pulled her arms out of the muck and stepped back. “Did that help?”

“Yes, thank you,” Andromeda said, speaking directly into the leaves of her plant, with a level of composure she did not feel. 

She could feel her feet in her stiff boots, her relaxed shoulders, her forearms in the rough gloves. She was in her body in a way that she could never remember being before. She wanted Teddy to come closer but had run out of excuses both external and internal to ask for any further intimacy. 

A whispery silver duck flapped through the closed window. Opening its beak, the Patronus announced in Sprout’s voice: “Snow storm coming. Head back to the castle immediately or wait it out in the greenhouse.” 

Andromeda rushed to the glass walls of the greenhouse, grateful for an excuse to do something other than exist in her own body. She took off her work gloves and rubbed her hands over the window to defog them. There was little change in the view. Everything outside was white and grey as if they were in a glass house floating in a cloud.  

“Well, that rolled in rather quickly, didn’t it?” Teddy said. If she were at all aware of the tectonic shift that just occurred inside of Andromeda, she did not show it. 

“It certainly did.” 

“Well, should we stay here until it passes?”

Did the gods hate her? All Andromeda needed was to be alone with her bed curtains drawn. Now she was stuck here. With some girl who made her feel so - so - what was it? Safe? Desperate to run away? Happy? Safe in her body and ready to crawl out of her own skin at the same time. 

“No. I think we should go back to the castle,” Andromeda responded, her voice clipped. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Teddy asked - not unkindly. 

“We have no idea when it will let up. It could be hours. If we don’t leave now, we could be trapped here all night.” 

Did Teddy’s face fall for a moment? She seemed almost disappointed. 

“Whatever you say, princess,” Teddy said with a gentle smile and a shake of her head.

They pulled off their work gloves, trying not to get mud all over their clothes. Andromeda succeeded with both, Teddy with only her left. Andromeda attempted to transfigure the gloves into warm, winter mittens. (Professor Sprout wouldn’t notice two pairs missing, right?) One of the sets of hideously mustard yellow now-mittens was noticeably thinner than the other, and she offered Teddy the thicker pair. 

“Hufflepuff colors, why thank you.” 

“Not intentional, Tonks.”

“But appreciated all the same.” Teddy extended a hand to Andromeda and stood in the doorway. “Shall we face the storm together, then?”

Teddy’s grin was crooked and roguish, and Andromeda couldn’t help but smile in return. She grasped Teddy’s hand in her lumpy mittens and braced herself for the cold. 

Teddy and Andromeda clung together through the walk to the castle as they battled wind and snow. Their Lumos charms only lit a few steps ahead of them. If it weren’t for the familiar slope of the ground, Andromeda would have worried they might be going the wrong way. If she could admit it - which she couldn’t - she would say that she appreciated Teddy’s solid presence and words of encouragement, even if they were often drowned out by the wind. 

“Bit brisk, yeah?” Teddy yelled. 

Andromeda slipped, but Teddy kept her from falling. She thought Teddy would have carried her if she had asked. 

When they finally arrived at the castle, Teddy’s face was framed by snow. Andromeda brushed some off of her own face and resisted the urge to help Teddy with her snow-covered blonde hair. 

“Well, then, goodnight, Black.” Teddy said, but she didn’t move to walk away, her hazel eyes fixed on Andromeda. 

“Goodnight, Tonks,” Andromeda said curtly. She used every last reservoir of self-control to turn and walk away. Each step away from Teddy became easier and easier as she descended further into the castle and then down the stone steps towards the dungeons. 

In the common room, she attempted to finish her Charms reading, but visions of dimpled smiles and hazel eyes and warm hands distracted her. She kept reading the same sentence about beguiling charms over and over. (Beguiling charms! Of all things!) 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was so far beyond inconvenient. What had she gotten into? She had another detention to get through and her self-control was not as strong as she had imagined. 

Get yourself together, Black.

Caught up in her own internal conflict, she did not notice Lucius and Narcissa enter the common room together.

Andromeda paced around the sixth year dorm. She wished she could talk with someone about this, whatever it was. She wished she could speak with Bellatrix, but the desire was absurd. Bellatrix had long since graduated, and, in any case, “I’m having complicated feelings about this muggleborn girl and I don’t understand what is going on” was not something she could say to Bella. 

Bellatrix would be confused and dismissive or - much worse - betrayed and furious, if she took the idea seriously. Bellatrix would identify the muggleborn quickly and curse her within an inch of her life for whatever underhanded magic she must have done to put Andromeda in such a state.

Definitely best not to write Bellatrix about this. 

She could, however, write Bellatrix a vapid note about Slughorn’s party, and she hoped that would take the edge off of her need to write Bellatrix a less vapid stream of consciousness letter about whatever is going on in her head currently. 

Dear Bella,

I hope you are well. I so look forward to seeing you at the Solstice. Cissy and I will arrive in Bordeaux on the 20th - Slughorn is letting us use his floo again this year so the trip should be very quick. 

Slughorn’s Yule Party was last week. I wish you could have been there. It was deeply dull without you and, in the end, I wasn’t even able to meet with anyone from St. Mungo’s. Cissy went with Lucius Malfoy, of all people. If you know any handsome, eligible men, can you set them up with her? I hate the idea of her settling for him for lack of better options at Hogwarts. You know the boys her year - none worth noticing.

In Transfiguration today, McGonagall had us working on conjuring. Your lesson two summers ago was much better. I was the only one in the class to conjure a tea cup on my first try. 

Of course, writing about Bella’s lessons brought up other instruction - stirred up the other memories of magic more dangerous than tea cups. But Andromeda could pretend she didn’t remember. She was always good at that. 

She pushed the memories away and signed with a flourish:

Yours,

Andromeda

Andromeda rolled up the parchment, grabbed her bag of owl treats out of her trunk, and started the long trek up to the owlery. The walk was at least better than pacing in her room. 

As soon as she arrived at the owlery, Cicero hooted and flew to her shoulder, eyeing her bag of treats. The eagle owl, large and fearsome looking with his yellow eyes, was sweet and loyal to her. Bellatrix had gifted him to her the summer before she went to Hogwarts. Apparently, Bellatrix had insisted to the whole family that no one else was allowed to buy Andromeda  an owl. Bella had had a small row with Uncle Orion about it. 

In the end, as Bellatrix usually did, she won.

Andromeda remembered the evening well. After the family dinner, Bellatrix had commanded that the sisters leave their parents in the living room and take the owl outside immediately. The three girls went to the small backyard of the London townhouse and watched Cicero fly loops and accept treats. Cicero stood nearly half the height of Narcissa, and his wingspan was longer than Bellatrix was tall. He looked quite frightening swooping down at them, but Bellatrix merely laughed and Narcissa appeared impassive. Andromeda held out her arm for Cicero, the owl her sister had purchased for her, safe because she was always safe with Bellatrix. 

Bellatrix whooped as Cicero took off again. She seemed more like a wild creature than the owl did. She had grown significantly in the past few months and was skinny and ungainly. She was to be beautiful again soon enough, but then she was awkward and wild as she delighted in the antics of the owl. She shot sparks into the air just for the thrill of it, spelling out her name, Andromeda’s name, Narcissa’s name. 

Bellatrix then had her write a letter to someone, anyone. She wrote to tiny cousin Sirius, using the small words and large print acceptable to a seven year old. 

Dear Sirius,

This is my new owl, Cicero. Bella gave him to me. Isn’t he splendid?

Love,

Andromeda

Finally, the three sisters returned inside. Andromeda knew Cicero would come back quickly. Grimmauld Place wasn’t far, and she felt certain Cicero was a fast flyer. She kissed Bellatrix and Cissy goodnight and almost tripped on Geenie as the house-elf cleaned up the glass on the drawing room floor on her way up the stairs to her room.

Not until years later did she realize that Bellarix had been protecting Andromeda and Narcissa.  In her utter captivation with her powerful older sister, eleven-year-old Andromeda did not even comprehend that the glass was likely thrown by her father, her mother, or both. At the table, she had been so enthralled with her sister that she did not notice the rising tensions between her parents or the snide remarks her father was making about her mother. She did not comprehend her mother’s refusal, to engage in the conflict - at least in front of the children - and her decision to switch to liquor instead. 

Bellatrix had been excited to have Andromeda and Narcissa at Hogwarts with her, to show them the school, show them how to succeed, but Andromeda could sense relief, too. Bella’s baby sisters had gotten out. 

In the Owlrey, Andromeda ignored the hot guilt bubbling up at the thought of her parents. She gave Cicero a kiss on the head and offered a treat, and he nipped at it and nuzzled into her in exchange. For all his fearsome looks, he had grown to be a cuddly and affectionate boy. 

After tying her letter to his leg and sending him on his way, she went to offer a treat to Narcissa’s snowy owl, Octavia. Bellatrix must have selected that elegant white owl purely on aesthetics. After noticing that Andromeda was giving out treats, a barn owl perked up and hopped towards her, followed by a smaller tawny owl. 

Laughing at herself at how embarrassingly soft she could be (what would Bella say, honestly), Andromeda gave them both treats, which quickly turned to giving out every last treat she had to a rather polite line of owls who hooted happily. 

Chapter Text

The holidays inched closer. The groundskeeper had lined the Great Hall with towering fir trees, each covered in twinkling lights and ribbons, and so, at the very least, the atmosphere was festive, as students limped towards the end of the term. 

Andromeda woke early to compare Potions assignments with Graham over breakfast. Just this Potions essay, the Transfiguration assignment, and the final Runic translation, and then she was done with the term. That, and a detention tonight. The last one. The last time she ever needed to speak with Teddy again. An obviously good thing, and she obviously felt good that it would be the last one. 

Obviously. 

Across the breakfast table, Andromeda and Graham had spread a mess of notes, which were now stained with coffee and a drop of jam, as they continued to argue about the proper application of antidote theory in the case of blood curses. 

Cicero arrived with a hoot as he flew low over their table. He dropped an envelope over the pile of notes and landed gracefully on Andromeda’s shoulder. She speared a sausage with a fork and held it up for him to eat. 

“Letter?” Graham asked, mid-rant about the potential power of using the caster's own blood in an antidote. 

“My sister,” she replied, smiling. Once Cicero had ripped the sausage off the fork, she opened the letter.

Ands -

Busy. I’ll see you at Solstice though I may be late and leave early. Much to do. Lots to share - exciting developments.

I do like Lucius, but I’ll consider other options for her. The older Rosier? She seemed opposed to Rabastan. 

-Bella

Before Andromeda could react to Bella’s brief note, Narcissa delicately sat down next to her. Andromeda stuffed the letter back in the envelope. She didn’t need Narcissa to know she was trying to rope Bellatrix into her anti-Lucius Malfoy crusade. 

Their cousins, Phillipe and Evan, followed just behind Narcissa and sat across from the Black sisters. Evan looked like a younger, sharper, and hungrier version of Phillipe. He had the same fine Rosier features as her mother, delicate and almost feminine, but both boys had the darker coloring of most Rosiers. The brothers looked so much like their father did before he died, or rather, like their father did well before he died as dragon pox is a ghastly thing, disfiguring and deadly for older people. If they looked remotely like their father in those last few horrible weeks, they would not have been allowed in the Great Hall, let alone out of a hospital room quarantine. 

“Bella says she may be late or leave early this holiday,” Andromeda said to Narcissa.

“Oh,” Narcissa sighed with disappointment. “But we’re so glad to have you with us for the holiday,” she added to Phillipe and Evan. 

“Yes, well, your mother doesn’t trust us with Uncle Valerian,” Evan said sullenly. He was slumped over his bacon like a petulant child and glared at Narcissa like she was the one who gave his parents dragon pox. 

Phillipe ignored his brother and responded stiffly. “We’re glad to be invited. It’ll be nice to be with family. The manor in France is lovely. And Uncle Valerian will be there too for Solstice.” 

Andromeda decided not to add her comments - that Uncle Valerian is unhinged, that Evan is a brat, that Phillipe better keep up this politeness if he would like to spend the holiday with the Blacks instead of alone with his mad uncle and madder brother. It was a rare occasion when the Black family was the least mad one, and Andromeda decided she enjoyed it.

Graham sat next to Andromeda, studiously silent. He knew better than to get involved in the Rosier-Black drama. He picked at his toast and organized his potions notes before returning them to his bag to avoid any further jam incidents. 

“I like Uncle Valerian,” Evan declared over his eggs and sausage. “I think he’s brave.”

“Yes, we know,” Phillipe replied, his voice strained, keeping his eyes on Narcissa.

“He is one of the Dark Lord’s closest allies -” Evan said emphatically. 

“Evan,” Phillipe replied firmly. 

“Not at breakfast,” Narcissa added with some grace, trying to smooth over the fraternal spat. 

Evan ignored Narcissa and kept his eyes on his brother. “Just because you’re a coward,” he muttered. “And aren’t sure if you’re going to join up.” 

“Evan!” Narcissa hissed. 

Graham’s copy of the Prophet landed on the sausages, and Andromeda grabbed the paper before Graham could touch it. She scanned the front page for any headline to distract her idiot cousin from having this fight in the Great Hall at breakfast. 

“Oh look!” she said loudly. “They rescued Eleanor Fawley!”

“Really?” Phillipe asked. Evan perked up. Narcissa smirked softly to herself. 

“Well, obviously, they’re not calling it a rescue in the paper,” Andromeda said as her eyes scanned the article. “The Muggle she ran off with hasn't been found, and the Aurors say a group of masked wizards broke into their home and -”

“The Death Eaters!” Evan cried out.

“Yes, obviously,” Phillipe said and kicked his brother under the table. “Fucking hell, say it louder, Evan.”

“And they grabbed her, stunned him, and returned her to her family,” Andromeda continued. “The Aurors haven’t decided if they’re pressing charges.” 

“Against the Muggle who took her?” Evan asked eagerly.

“No - against the De- against the people who took her back. Allegedly, the Death Eaters. Apparently, it’s a ‘complicated situation’ in the DMLE.”

“The animal kidnapped a pureblood woman and who knows what he did with her!” said Evan. “So the Death Eaters do what? Rescue pureblood women, and kill Muggle pedophiles and the Ministry is still at war with them? Disgusting.”

“You two should be careful,” Phillipe said to Narcissa and Andromeda, completely serious. “They’re going after pureblood women now.” 

Narcissa scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You all underestimate Eleanor terribly. I’d be shocked if she weren’t a perfectly willing participant in her alleged ‘kidnapping,’” she said before taking a sip of her coffee. 

“I’m sure Eleanor will say she was kidnapped,” Andromeda agreed, matching Narcissa’s light tone. “It’s a much better story for everyone involved. Much less scandal. Anyway, it seems that her family has told the Prophet that she is recovering from her ordeal and will not be speaking to the press at this time.” 

Andromeda wondered if Bellatrix had been there, at the house with Eleanor and the Muggle. She could imagine Bellatrix disarming the wards to the house with a hurricane of magic and striding inside, completely disguised with her mask and cloak, but the power and flavor of her magic so identifiable and so clearly hers. Bellatrix never told Andromeda the details of what she was doing with the Death Eaters, and Andromeda never wanted to ask, but that didn’t mean that Andromeda didn’t think about it. 

From what was in the papers, Death Eater activity seemed to be a lot of culling the most bestial of Muggles, the child molesters and murderers. The Muggles were not fit to govern themselves, and the Death Eaters were doing what they could to remedy the situation. 

The Fawley case was the most public intervention by the Death Eaters to protect a pureblood woman from Muggle men, but Andromeda was certain it wasn’t the first. They were all quite concerned about the purity of pureblood women in all the ways that mattered and many of the ways that did not. She hoped Eleanor had the sense to at least feign gratitude for her rescue if she had any desire to maintain access to her wand.  

Public support for the Death Eaters was increasing, most rapidly amongst half-bloods. The Prophet published a fairly steady stream of “I’m liberal on the blood question but…” or “I support muggleborns but…” commentary on the Death Eater effort. The pieces were all some variation on: “They may be taking it a bit too far, but you have to admit they’re not entirely wrong.” Andromeda thought that everyone could save time if the Prophet just repeated that sentence seven times once a week in their opinion section instead of running new sentences with the same idea every other day. 

It was somewhat outrageous that the Ministry had declared itself at war with a group that seemed to do nothing wrong, unless you considered eliminating muggle pedophiles or returning pureblood women to their families wrong. They had been at war since 1970, yet not a single witch or wizard had died. Some, including her father and uncle, were pushing the Ministry to retract the declaration of war so as not to waste magical resources on an unpopular fight against a rogue, but disciplined vigilante group. Whatever was in the news, and whatever the men in her family might argue in the Wizengamot, Andromeda trusted Bellatrix. If Bellatrix supported them, so did she. 

Evan and Phillipe seemed unconvinced by Narcissa and Andromeda’s arguments about Eleanor, but Andromeda didn’t expect them to. The idea that a pureblood woman from a respectable family could choose of her own free will to run off with a muggleborn man was rather too inconvenient and embarrassing for pureblood men to consider. 

The cousins finished their breakfast, and Andromeda and Phillipe walked together to Potions with Graham trailing just behind them, just far enough away to be polite and just close enough to hear everything. 

“Get your brother under control,” Andromeda muttered to Phillipe as they strode down the corridor. A small group of Hufflepuffs passed the other way, but Teddy was not among them. Not that Andromeda was looking for her. 

Phillipe threw up a hand. “He’s twelve. It’s impossible. He’s been a nightmare since our parents passed.” 

Andromeda softened. “It’ll be easier during the holiday,” she reassured him. “It’ll get easier.” 

Phillipe pushed his dark hair back and sighed. 

“He’s having a hard time. He’s young.” He paused to hold the Potions door for her to walk through first. “I’ll figure it out. If I can arrange a double funeral in the midst of O.W.L.s, I can help him.”

Andromeda felt an unexpected surge of affection for her cousin, the young head of the Rosier household with only a crazy uncle, a kid brother, and her own hysterical mother to help him. She could excuse his role in the detentions. Little wonder he was quick to defend a family name. 

She and Graham sat together at their potions station. Phillipe was her cousin, but he barely scraped by in his O.W.L.. 

Graham flashed a smile at Andromeda and raised one of his dark eyebrows. “Another thrilling day in the charmed lives of the purebloods,” he said quietly as Slughorn greeted the class with booming enthusiasm. 

Andromeda smirked back. “Always is.” 

At their fourth detention, there was blame to go around. 

Andromeda felt a strange sense of anticipation all Wednesday afternoon and throughout dinner. Her heart beat thick in her chest, and nervous energy ran through her finger tips. Her last detention with Teddy, the last time she would probably ever talk with her, was not significant and was certainly not the cause. It was two hours in a greenhouse with a near stranger, even if she was one who was charming and had lovely dimples. 

Andromeda did not know why she had to feel this odd catch in her breath and nervous tapping in her foot. 

It was end of term stress, most likely. 

Andromeda left the castle early to walk to the greenhouses. The castle grounds still had a layer of snow, and her black boots crunched through it, echoing into the deserted grounds. Everything was white and beautiful and simple. 

Sprout had left a note. No need for additional oversight, Teddy and Andromeda knew the routine. They would massage roots and make light conversation and be fetched by Sprout at precisely nine in the evening and then never speak again. 

Andromeda took off her black winter traveling cloak and hung it by the door. With the greenhouse as steamy and humid as always, she pulled off her jumper and folded it on the cleanest bench before putting on her thick gardening gloves and getting to work. 

Teddy came rushing in a quarter hour later, throwing off her cloak and hat and grabbing her gardening gloves.

“I was sure you were going to skip tonight,” Andromeda said, not looking at her. She kept focused on the particularly grumpy plant in front of her. The leaves were limp, even after fifteen minutes of massaging. “Sprout wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Hufflepuffs - we’re all about that dedication and labor and honesty, don’t you know,” Teddy teased as Andromeda kept her eyes on the roots, a rush in her chest anyway. 

Teddy got to work on the plant next to Andromeda’s. Andromeda chanced a look at her. Teddy’s dark blonde hair stood up at the back, and she bit her lip as she concentrated on her plant. Andromeda smiled at that. But she looked for a moment too long. Teddy caught her staring and smiled a crooked grin in response.

Andromeda focused on massaging out what turned out to be two knots nestled together on a root. She was working. She was not distracted. Not at all.

Teddy and Andromeda couldn’t seem to hold a conversation that evening. One would try, but the topic would peter out quickly. Nothing quite made sense. Andromeda couldn’t find her words, as much as she tried. The pair massaged roots in awkward silence punctuated by even more awkward attempts at conversation. 

Finally, Teddy moved her pot closer to Andromeda’s so the thin branches of their plants were touching. 

“I read the plants would benefit from close contact with each other,” she said, by way of explanation. 

Andromeda shrugged and continued her own work, bumping shoulders with Teddy. 

Having Teddy so near made it difficult to breathe, but Andromeda stayed where she was and said nothing. Andromeda felt each movement, heard each huff as Teddy worked on a particularly stubborn knot, felt the friction. Each jostle of an elbow touching made her chest feel warm, and every time they bumped shoulders Andromeda had the sudden, inexplicable urge to hold Teddy closer. 

She was overwhelmed and not thinking clearly. It was the heat.

Losing patience, in a spurt of madness, Andromeda asked, “Teddy, could you help me with this knot?” 

With a loud squelch, Teddy withdrew her arms from her own pot and turned towards Andromeda, as Andromeda did the same and turned towards Teddy. Andromeda was just taller. She stared into Teddy’s hazel eyes and wished her arms weren’t covered in mud-soaked gloves so she could brush the dark blonde hair out of her face and settle the mess of it, but she also enjoyed the mess of it, and she was really, truly going mad. 

Neither made a move to continue working on the plants. They stood facing each other, the only sound their breaths in the humid greenhouse. Teddy was so close to her. Her face was so close to hers. 

There was enough plausible deniability in the kiss. 

Andromeda would deny initiating it, if pressed. 

But, no matter whose fault it was, a kiss occurred, and, if it hadn’t, Teddy may have survived the second war. Or, if it hadn’t, Teddy may have died in the first. The complexities and vagaries of time magic made it impossible to know for sure. 

Teddy kissed her, soft and gentle. Andromeda and Teddy still wore their muddy gloves, and so both stuck their arms out awkwardly to avoid getting mud all over the other. It was a destabilizing experience, and Andromeda leaned into Teddy, who held her weight. Awkward and perfect. Dazzling and laughable. 

It could have been a long kiss or it could have been a short kiss, Andromeda wasn’t sure. It seemed at once a singular moment and a dizzying hour. She wanted it to be longer. 

The greenhouse door opened with a loud thunk, and Andromeda jumped back.

“Oh, hullo, girls,” Professor Sprout called out cheerfully as she stepped in from the chilly grounds. Her brown curls poked out underneath a thick woolen cap, and her cheeks were red from cold. “I thought I’d let you off a bit early since you were stuck in here last week. It’s almost the holidays and all. I finished up with the mandrakes in Greenhouse Two, and we can return to the castle together. Happy Christmas!” 

Andromeda and Teddy had pulled away just in time. Teddy blushed furiously, red patches on her lightly freckled cheeks, and Andromeda was sure Teddy’s face was going to give them away.

Andromeda removed her gloves and put her winter cloak on slowly, stealing furtive glances at Teddy, who was doing the same. Each moment of eye contact made her chest swell. 

They followed Professor Sprout out of the greenhouse and walked side by side, half a step behind her, as the young professor chatted about the state of the plants and the upcoming holiday. Teddy chimed in occasionally, and Andromeda let herself fall silent and enjoy walking with Teddy. 

As their steps crunched on the week-old snow, Andromeda let her hand brush against Teddy’s. 

Not quite holding hands, but not quite able to avoid each other, Andromeda and Teddy let their fingers brush up against each other with each step they took. The bite of the cold air was not enough to dissuade Andromeda from the small, frighteningly pleasurable act., Teddy hooked her pinky in Andromeda’s, and they walked that way for three steps until they were pulled away. Each touch was warm and dizzying.

Walking through the snowy grounds at night, even with a steady stream of chatter from their professor, the two students could have been in another world, one that was magical and free in all the ways Hogwarts was not. Sprout’s Lumos bounced before them, small as a fairy light in the vast expanse of the grounds. 

Eventually the castle loomed before them, large and material and solid as reality. Andromeda moved carefully, almost imperceptibly, from Teddy, but she knew Teddy noticed. Of course Teddy noticed.

The full, painful weight of what she had done began to sink in as they walked up the castle steps and reached the front door. Andromeda Black was not reckless. Andromeda Black was not foolish and cruel. Andromeda Black was not disloyal, except she had to be because she kissed a muggleborn in a Hogwarts greenhouse, a muggleborn who had hexed her sister (accident or no). 

She kissed a muggleborn. 

“Goodnight, Miss Black, and Happy Christmas!” Professor Sprout said to Andromeda as she and Teddy made to walk towards the heart of the castle together. 

“Good night, Professor Sprout.” Andromeda looked straight at her professor, only seeing Teddy’s confused face in the corner of her vision. She would not face her. 

Without saying a word to Teddy, Andromeda turned and walked down the stone steps towards the Dungeons. With each echoing footfall, she tried to steady herself and forget whatever madness she had just experienced. By the time she reached the stone wall that led to her common room, she felt she had successfully placed the madness in its own compartment, stowed in the far reaches of her mind alongside those childhood memories, never to be touched again.

Chapter Text

Professor Slughorn ushered the students into his office. He had been letting the Blacks use his office fireplace to Floo to the continent since Bellatrix had been a first year. (“It makes no sense to have you all take the train to London, then travel to your London house then Floo to Bordeaux. It’s no trouble at all.”) 

Philippe and Evan Rosier, Sirius, and the two Black sisters smiled at Slughorn as he set up the fireplace, promising to bring back macaroons in sweet flavors and full-bodied red wine on their return. Andromeda always loved the soft and comforting opulence of Slughorn’s office. It was a reminder that nice things did not have to be cold and dangerous to be precious. 

When not smiling at Slughorn (Sirius’s a perfect performance, Evan’s less so), the two second-year boys glared at each other. Phillipe stood between the two second-years with practiced indifference, and Andromeda wondered whether she could leave her cousins in one room without a repeat of the previous week’s incident in the fourth floor corridor. She had little patience for Sirius’s stupidity or Evan’s childish fury (dead parents or no), and even less patience for their inability to keep their fighting private.

But Narcissa strode to the fireplace, and Andromeda followed, hoping that her cousins had at least a modicum of sense. 

She stepped into the fireplace, large enough she did not have to stoop beneath the carved stone serpents above, called out, “Château de Cahuzac!” and moments later walked out into the familiar foyer of one of the family’s country homes. 

Andromeda knew the lines of inheritance for this particular estate were particularly tangled, second only to the family's castle in Scotland, Dairlanrig, which has sat untouched for years, and she hadn’t learned who was set to inherit the château - she just knew knew it was unlikely to be her, a second daughter of an eldest son of a second son, and so she paid the thorny inheritance scheming little attention. 

The Floo fireplace sat in its own room, an entryway adjacent to the foyer with stone walls and portraits of haughty Black ancestors in high-necked formal robes. There was no space to think of a sandy-haired, muggleborn Hufflepuff or her dimpled smile in this severe place. Or her laugh. Or her lips.

Andromeda barely had time to hand her bag to the waiting house-elf, Geenie, before her mother drew her into a tight embrace. 

“It is so good to have the two of you home for the solstice,” her mother said. She smelled like port. At least it’s after noon, Andromeda thought as she stood awkwardly with her mother clutched at her. 

"It’s lovely to be here, Mummy,” Andromeda said politely. At least her father wasn’t present to witness her mother in this state. Andromeda had no interest in seeing them fight over 'unbecoming French histrionics.' 

Her mother released her as the three cousins stepped out, one after the other, through the fireplace. No fights in Slughorn’s office, then. Andromeda stole a glance at Geenie, who had stacked her bag up on top of Narcissa’s such that only her bat-like ears poked over the top. 

“We are so glad to have young Mistresses Narcissa and Andromeda home for the solstice,” the house-elf squealed over the bags. 

She smiled at Geenie as the cousins bowed to her mother, and Sirius kissed her mother’s outstretched hand.  She cooed over him, the young heir. 

“You seem to be aging backwards, Aunt Druella,” Sirius said with a smile.

“Oh, Sirius,” she said, blushing. 

Andromeda caught Narcissa’s gaze and rolled her eyes. Sirius was a charming prat whenever he wanted to be, and he clearly understood the value of charming their mother, whatever it might be given her low status in the family overall.

Andromeda knew she loved her sisters like she knew she loved Sirius, but she was not sure how she felt about her mother. Every possible word seemed too strong, but the feeling certainly wasn’t indifference. Disgust? Love? She didn’t not love her mother, but the idea that she loved her mother like she loved her sisters was absurd. She would die for her sisters. She would hate to cause her mother’s death. 

Druella Rosier had been, Andromeda had been told, a fairly competent witch with a particular talent for Charms. A beautiful young pureblood from an old French family with a deep history of intermarrying with the Blacks.

Druella Black, as she existed currently, was pathetic, made more so  by the shining pieces of her beauty and talent that occasionally shone through through her sagging flesh and watery eyes. 

Once, Andromeda caught sight of her mother lit perfectly by the green stained glass window in the drawing room in the London house, and she saw how she might have looked in the Slytherin common room basked by the light from the lake. Light blonde hair, soft smirk, blue eyes glittering with an unsaid joke. Andromeda had to excuse herself in the moment and cried silently in the bathroom. She allowed herself two minutes of that childish behavior before dabbing her eyes and returning to the party.

Andromeda’s mother let her magical talents waste away, but Andromeda would not. She was going to be a Healer. Her mother let her father insult and demean her. She would set Bellatrix on her future, theoretical husband if he ever thought to do that. Her mother started drinking at lunch, if not before. Andromeda would never drink before dinner and never every day. 

Her mother alternated between long stretches of indifference towards her children and maudlin, greedy desire for reassurance and love. Andromeda had hoped for the former this holiday, but was an expert at dealing with the latter.

The family gathered on the south lawn as the sun set behind the manicured trees to the west, casting deep shadows under the bruising sky and a frigid breeze. They arranged themselves in a large circle, and even Regulus, the youngest, moved into place without prompting. 

Arcturus, the old patriarch, stood in the middle with a long silver knife. The only things he retained from his youth were his posture and his power. His hair was grey, and his skin was wrinkled, but he stood tall. Andromeda felt his eyes sweep over her and looked to her feet to avoid meeting his gaze. 

When she was young, Andromeda had searched for the magic in the ritual. She would never reveal that she did not feel anything. She felt too ashamed. Everyone else acted as though this show was significant. Her inability to feel the magic was another sign that there was something deeply broken inside of her. 

Andromeda felt the magic when she and her sisters were together, the magnification of power from their bonds, the depth of family magic, but she did not feel magic in this ritual. She had hoped she was just not trying hard enough until, last year she had overheard her Great Aunt Cassiopeia talking to Grandfather Pollux about “Arcturus’s ego-trip ritual.” 

Andromeda pieced together the details from the snatches of conversation. The ritual was something he created in the 1930s (or ‘20s?) to reconnect the family with the Old Magic, and, in their estimation, something he did to cement his power at the center of the family. It was nonsense, all of it. Everyone pretended to feel it because  they wanted to be a part of an ancient Dark ritual for only the best families. 

The family chanted in Latin. Arcturus sliced the knife through his hand and the blood sprayed out in a circle around him. The circle of blood burst into flames, and they chanted louder. The flames formed snakes that circled around Arcturus and then around the larger group. 

Andromeda surveyed her family members trying to identify the true believers from the sycophants from the skeptics. It was impossible. They all looked the same. 

Andromeda closed her eyes and chanted in turn. There was magic in being together as a family, true enough, but the idea that this ritual was merely a creation of a vainglorious Black patriarch just a few decades previous sucked the life out of it. There may have been a reason for the ritual, and there may be magic in it she couldn’t access, but she no longer believed. 

Of course, her beliefs meant nothing, and she joined in with false fortitude, chanting words about the long night and the turning of the season and unchanging eternity and rightful power of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. 

The snakes returned to the center, and the flames licked around Arcturus, impressive to a young girl but a cheap parlor trick to a N.E.W.T. student. Finally, with a series of bows, most directed at Arcturus himself, the ritual was over. 

For all the talk of the importance of the ritual, she noticed everyone hurried back inside to the warmth of the chateau for pre-dinner drinks. Her mother sought the cocktail Geenie was sure to have ready for her just inside the door, the tiny elf in her tea cozy and a silver tray held above her head. Sirius and Regulus trailed just behind Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga, ever the dutiful boys in their matching deep green winter cloaks and low ponytails. The Sirius Black in front of her seemed a different creature entirely from the Gryffindor Sirius of Hogwarts. He walked stiffly in his shining boots with his head bowed. 

Evan jogged to keep up with Uncle Valerian, and Phillipe walked back with her father. 

Narcissa grabbed her hand, and Andromeda realized she had been staring, and the two sisters returned to the house together. Andromeda wondered if Narcissa knew of the deceit of their seasonal rituals. Narcissa would never reveal if she did, even to her. Narcissa probably learned before Andromeda did; she was always the most observant of the family, blue eyes always watching. Narcissa was as beautiful and impenetrable as always as they walked together over the crisp snow, and Andromeda wondered if, with effort, she could learn to be more like her sister. 

Andromeda knew that someone had put a great deal of thought into the place settings, but she was not sure who. Power flowed out from Great Uncle Arcturus at the head, that was clear enough, but she was not sure who was being punished or rewarded for their place. Arcturus led them in a brief feasting ritual with a general theme of the celebration of the noble and difficult role of the Black family in the arc of the seasons and the flow of magic - perhaps another one of his creations or perhaps something old and true or something false from a previous patriarch looking to make meaning of their social position.

Dinner was made manageable by the bottles of elf-made wine charmed to float carefully above the table and continuously refill their glasses. When Uncle Orion made a joke about the sexual proclivities of muggleborn women, there was wine. 

(“Their mouths say no but -”

“Not at the table, Orion,” Walburga interrupted.

“Well, you know what says yes.”)

When Aunt Walburga questioned Andromeda about her insistence on becoming a Healer with less than gentle intentions, there was wine. 

(“Are you sure? It’s a very strenuous activity for a young mother to participate in, and with your sister still without child-”)

When her mother sniped about how the Yaxley girl married a half-blood, there was the feeling of soft robes and good food and, of course, wine. 

(“Such a poor match for such an old house, though I suppose with her face her mother must have felt lucky with a match at all.”)

The toast to Eleanor Fawley’s “rescuers” involved wine, of course, and an equally intoxicating smile from Bellatrix. The smug smiles - at Eleanor’s lack of purity, at her rescuer’s ingenuity at avoiding capture by the DMLE - it all made Andromeda sick. Wine helped. 

Platters of food floated out on house-elf magic. It would have been unbecoming for a house-elf to show their face during such a dinner (another thing for Walburga to complain about), but the magic was surely theirs. She wondered how Geenie was faring in the kitchens with the other elves.

Uncle Valerian asked her about how Hogwarts was these days under that “batty Headmaster Dumbledore.” He had the same delicate Rosier features as her mother, but his eyes were dark and cold, and his cravat didn’t quite cover up the thick, silvery curse scar on his neck. 

She responded by instinct, smiling and charming and flattering, about classes and how the school has kept its academic excellence, still superior to Beauxbatons, of course, but that the culture has certainly gone downhill since his day. She turned the conversation to his stories of his Hogwarts days, and she let herself fade and smile sweetly as he shared his triumphs and hardships. She was finally feeling the wine, which had placed a thick, protective layer between her and the conversation and the table and the people around her. Uncle Valerian started laughing, and she matched him, assuming that a joke had been made, the topic irrelevant. 

She watched her mother, drunk already, wither under Aunt Walburga’s diatribe about the quality of the food and the house. Somehow Walburga had managed to bring up, again, that she had two sons while Druella had produced only daughters. Andromeda felt some pity for anyone who held her aunt’s attention, though she hated how her mother shrunk herself. 

Like her mother, Aunt Walburga must have been beautiful once too. Her father’s older sister had the high cheekbones and haughty grace of any Black, but her greying hair and sneering face and sagging skin made even those features seem disturbing. She grasped her knife with long fingers covered in rings the size of Dunkerion bulbs, jabbing it to emphasize her point on the best techniques for disciplining house-elves. Andromeda looked away before Walburga noticed her staring.

She made eye contact with Narcissa, who was lost in her own tiresome conversation with Great Uncle Arcturus himself. Her beautiful face was stuck in a bland smile while the wizened old man leered over her and held her pale hand with his liver-spotted one, his whole body held together with pride and spite. 

At the other end of the table, Bellatrix held court, while her husband, Rodolphous Lestrange, sat next to her and interjected his own points vigorously. Andromeda couldn’t make out Bellatrix’s words, the table was too long and there were too many other conversations, but they had those around her enraptured. Sitting next to Narcissa or Bellatrix would make these dinners infinitely more tolerable. 

After dessert, Aunt Walburga led the women to the drawing room, leaving the men in the dining room, plates and tablecloth vanished, to smoke pipes and talk politics. Bellatrix stayed with the men, as if anyone could dare tell her where to go. Her sister could out-duel, out-argue and would outlast them all, Andromeda thought. She, on the other hand, had no interest in breaking into some men’s club where they discussed the epic days of Muggle hunts past or whatever bill was stalled in the Wizengamot by some mudblood or Muggle-loving twit. 

She bid the women in the drawing room goodnight, feigning exhaustion, as she slipped into the hallway. A quick snap of her fingers and Geenie arrived with a bottle of red wine, probably old, certainly worth drinking. She walked out the rear entrance through the French doors onto the grounds. Andromeda didn’t mind the light layer of snow on the ground or the hard bite of cold in the air. The chill made her feel real and in her body for the first time since she had arrived in France, pretending and charming. Leaving small footprints in the snow, she walked carefully down the snow covered path to the nearest greenhouse and let herself inside. 

Andromeda took in overwhelming scents of the roses and wisteria and dahlias and gerberas and tulips and a dozen other beautiful and almost entirely medically useless flowers. They must have specific growing seasons, but the charms in the greenhouse and garden kept them bright and fragrant every month of the year. She took a seat on a bench in the middle of the greenhouse, uncorked the wine with a quick tap of her wand, and drank from the bottle as she watched small, floating clouds mist the flowers before her. 

She loved her family’s greenhouses with their impractical and delicate but beautiful flowers. They were so unlike the Hogwarts greenhouses where students labored together to support productive magical plants. 

As the image of Hogwarts Greenhouse Three floated into her mind, Andromeda realized her mistake. The greenhouses at the chateau had been her refuge for years, and she put away any errant thoughts of Hogwarts greenhouses and anything that happened in them and any people who happened to be inside of them and any charming Quidditch captains and generous Hufflepuffs and strong arms and other things she did not think about. 

Best to keep time with family separate from any nonsense she fell into at school. 

Andromeda wasn’t thinking about her anyway. 

“Mind if I join you? Or are you preferring to brood alone tonight?” A familiar voice asked from the greenhouse door, laughing and mocking. “If so, I can go try the stables. Though the horses aren't quite the conversationalist you are.”

“Sirius, of course, come in,” Andromeda said. “There’s always room for my favorite cousin amongst the roses.” She moved to one side of the bench and gestured at the empty seat.

Sirius walked inside, shedding the high, starched white collar on his dress robes and his polished black dress shoes as he sat. He kicked one leg over the side of the bench and draped his arm across the back. He was an arrogant berk, a terror at Hogwarts, and terrorized at home, but she loved him dearly, and he very much knew it. His beauty and brilliance and near-manic charisma and drive reminded her of Bellatrix, which probably explained why he was her favorite. 

“Are you going to share that wine with me?” Sirius asked with a roguish smile. 

“You’re what, twelve?” Andromeda rolled her eyes. “No, Sirius.”

“Thirteen as of this November, which I thought you would know. Anyway, I was afraid you’d say that, so I swiped this Ouzo that was collecting dust. Uncle Alphard must have brought it back from Greece back in the day.” He twisted open the stopper and took a deep swig. Andromeda watched him as he tried to perform pureblood adulthood, unsuccessfully. His nose wrinkled, and he gagged slightly.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Sirius, if you’re going to drink that toxic sludge, here.” Andromeda shoved the bottle of wine towards Sirius. She was an easy mark when it came to Sirius. “And you did have to sit through Grandfather Pollux’s diatribe against Gryffindors throughout dinner so I suppose you deserve it.” 

Sirius took a long drink of the wine before responding. No grimaces this time. “Not my first experience listening to that particular speech. If anything, it was a lovely break from the attention of my dear mother. Though I should toast to your mother for occupying her tonight.” He looked at her, with a small smile on his lips but almost serious now. “Can we not become our parents?”

Andromeda laughed. Sirius was too much of an optimist sometimes. “It’s inevitable. We’re Blacks - destined to trade our souls and freedom for power and control and the good liquor to make it survivable. Even you, you little Gryffindor.” She leaned over to kiss his forehead and snatch the wine back in one smooth motion. “There’s absolutely no escaping it.” 

Her eyes met his, and she felt guilty for her honesty. She was definitely drunk, then, if she were being honest with someone in her family, if she were being honest with anyone at all. Sirius said nothing. He stared out at the roses, his face sullen and still beautiful.

“I’m sure Mother is conspiring in the drawing room to identify a good match for me at this very moment,” Andromeda continued, ignoring his pouting. If she was going to be honest with her child-cousin, she might as well be fully honest. “It doesn’t matter in the end. If they’re old, I’ll likely outlive them and have some decades of peace and quiet. If they’re young, maybe they’ll be a bit more interesting and can keep up with me. Either way, I can drink until I can’t stand up, and let them put their pureblood broomsticks into me until I bear them some good, pureblood heirs who can do the same until we can repopulate what we’ve lost to dragon pox and bad luck and infertility. I told my mother that my only criteria is that they let me go to study to be a Healer and allow me a career. Other than that, I have no preference - it’s all going to be mildly unpleasant but survivable either way.” 

Sirius took his long, dark hair out of the velvet ribbon, and let it hang around his face, an aristocrat at ease in action if not affect. He reached back for the wine.

The pair of them looked back out at the roses. The small clouds were gently misting the flowers again. 

Andromeda continued, after a long pause, “I know your role as heir is hard in its own way.” She turned to him, “Though, do you think they’d let me marry you? You’re the only boy I can stand. And - we’d have to wait until you were of age. That would give me more time. I would be through the basic training by then.” 

“We don’t do cousin marriages two generations in a row any more. We learned that lesson in the sixteenth century with Ophiuchus and Aquila.” Sirius was always so good at family history - something to do with the brutality of Walburga’s educational techniques. “Plus, I’m the Gryffindor who needs a tighter leash, and you’re the silly liberal girl who is all too sympathetic to the muggleborn. They’d never risk it.” 

“Is that really my reputation?” Andromeda scoffed. “All because last summer I suggested to Royston Crabbe that it was fair that Muggle hunting remain illegal?” She shook her head and passed the wine to Sirius. “Well, a marriage with you was too much to hope for anyway.”

They finished the wine quickly while gossiping about who in the family was addicted to Calming Draughts, how Uncle Alphard was enjoying his solstice in Paris with his "roommate" and how much more fun they’d have if they could spend the holiday with him instead of in Bordeaux, and, the perennial family question, whether or not Grandfather Pollux had an affair with his sister Cassiopeia (almost certainly yes, though they disagreed on whether Grandmother Irma knew about it). 

Andromeda finished the bottle, and they started on the Ouzo, which was slightly more tolerable now, though only slightly. As they drank, she relaxed enough to settle fully in her body as the warmth of the liquor finished the job the cold wind started. She unclenched her shoulders, charmed the tiny buckles on her shoes off, and let herself lean back into the bench. 

Sirius put his feet on her lap as he stretched his arms back over the arm of the bench, looking like a dog with excellent pedigree but no regard for rules, which she supposed he was. She laughed at the thought, and Sirius laughed with her even if he had no idea what for. 

“Oh my! Does the heir of the most noble and most ancient need a foot massage?” she mocked. “Of course, my liege.” She rubbed his socked feet, and Sirius moaned theatrically. 

“Oh yes, if you please. Oh! That is the spot! It is so, so difficult spending my days sitting at big, fancy desks, and signing parchment with my big, fancy quill. The responsibilities of a pureblood male are just so arduous.” 

Sirius swung his legs back around and made to stand. “Let me pluck a flower for you as thanks for your service, my fine maiden.” He made it half a step before stumbling. To save himself, he spun and leaned into a deep bow, pretending it was all intentional until he tried to stand up fully again and stepped back into the rose bush and got his hair caught in the thorns.

Andromeda wondered if she should not have shared liquor with her baby cousin. 

“Sir’us, it may be time for you to retire to bed.” Andromeda slurred her words slightly. She snapped her fingers and called out “Geenie!”

The small house-elf appeared instantly with bubbles from the dishes still in her hair. 

“Mistress Andromeda,” she squeaked with a small curtsey. 

“Geenie, please take the young Master Sirius back to his room.”

“And his shoes?”

“Yes, take them too.”

“And should I return for you, Mistress Andromeda?” 

Andromeda did not look forward to navigating the complicated web of whoever was still awake and downstairs at this hour. “Yes, Geenie.” 

With a barely discernible crack, the pair Disapparated - Sirius halfway to insisting “I’m fine” before he disappeared. 

Andromeda’s head swam as she stared at the now misshapen rose bush and decided this had been one of the better winter solstices she had ever experienced. 

Andromeda woke late the morning after the solstice, grateful for the Pepper-Up Geenie had left on her bedside table. It wasn’t until that afternoon that Andromeda finally got time with Bellatrix. The two sisters walked through the outskirts of the grounds, ignoring the cold. Bellatrix stepped lightly and laughed loudly, and Andromeda tried to match. She loved Bellatrix in all her moods, even her darkest fury or most pitiless indifference, but there was nothing like basking in Bellatrix’s high. Bellatrix was clever and witty and loud and shining like the brightest star in the family. 

Bella pontificated at length about the family and the name and their role, and it was a variation on endless speeches Andromeda had grown up hearing, but it still felt new coming from her sister in this moment. 

Finally, after a few moments of silence, not wanting to sound too desperate, Andromeda asked, “Why aren’t you staying longer? Couldn’t you stay just another day?”

Bellatrix laughed. 

“I have important work to do for our cause. You’ll find out soon.” She moved a branch out of their way on the snowy path with a quick flick of her wand. 

“I don’t understand - what are you doing?” Andromeda hated how her voice sounded. 

“If you met the Dark Lord, you would understand. He is like no other.” Bellatrix’s voice was reverent, and that alone disturbed Andromeda more than anything else. Andromeda had never heard her use that tone of voice ever before. Her sister was to be revered, not to revere. 

“Tell me about him, then.” 

Andromeda almost didn’t want to know more, but she had to hear what had her sister so utterly enthralled. She had heard of Lord Voldemort, the new Dark Lord, of course, through Bella and occasional glances at the copies of The Daily Prophet at breakfast in the Great Hall. She didn’t know what to make of him. Some called him a terrorist, some a conservationist of sorts. Some said he was the heir of Slytherin and was the saviour the wizarding world needed. She knew he and his followers had killed muggles; Bellatrix had said so, and it was reported in the Prophet more than once, but the ones they culled were always the most horribly brutish of muggles - child molesters and murderers and rapists. Even the most ardent of muggle-lovers would have difficulty defending the scum being cleansed. 

Andromeda knew Bellatrix stood by him, but she didn’t understand for what purpose Bellatrix was standing by. Muggles may be as bestial as they had been in the tenth century, but the Blacks seemed… fine, safe from any hypothetical army of muggles at the gate with pitchforks and swords, and, even if there were Muggles at the gate, it would be an easy enough problem for a handful of adult wizards to solve. There was no threat, at least none that she could see, and yet they were at war. 

“He is the greatest wizard of our age,” Bellatrix said. The wind picked up, but her voice carried over the gusts. “Ands, I wish you could feel his power. Magic radiates off of him. He’s going to be the one to remake the world, and I’ll be at his side as he does it, and, with Muggle-lovers at Hogwarts and the Wizengamot, we need him more than ever to help protect our kind and our traditions against those who would pollute and dilute our magic.” 

“Is he more powerful than you are?”

Bellatrix barked out a laugh. 

“Yes. Without a doubt. But I am stronger by his side.” 

You love him , Andromeda wanted to say. Bellatrix had never talked about anyone in such a way - certainly not Rodolphus, with whom she hovered between affection and indifference. Bellatrix was the smart, practical, arrogant one. The idea that she considered a wizard to be more powerful - that was a terrifying thought. No one was more powerful than Bella except possibly Dumbledore, and even that was suspect. 

“There are muggleborns and blood traitors at every level of the ministry attempting to destroy our culture and end our bloodlines,” Bellatrix spoke imperiously while wind whipped her long black hair. “We must secure the existence of our people and a future for pureblood children.” 

It sounded like a line she had copied from the Dark Lord. Arguing with Bella when she was like this was pointless, and Andromeda was not even sure she could. The Black family seemed as strong and secure as ever, but what did she know about the machinations of the Ministry? Could the family be in danger? 

“Just stay safe, Bella.”

Bellatrix tossed her head back and barked out another laugh, baring her white teeth. “There is no need to worry about me. United with the Dark Lord, we are untouchable. No, let’s turn our attention to you now.”

“Me?” 

“Yes, you and your engagement. Mummy said you were rather indifferent to the whole process. She was concerned.” 

“Like I told her seventy-seven times, I want to work as a Healer, and I’ll marry whomever she deems most appropriate who supports that.” 

“I know, she told me. Now how do you feel about foreign wizards?”

“It doesn’t matter to me though I do want to stay in England. I want to study at St. Mun-”

“Yes, yes, St. Mungo’s, Healing, we know.” Bellatrix threw out her hands dismissively before adding with a wink, “And we already know you’ll be heaps ahead of your classmates.” She grabbed Andromeda’s hand. “I have someone in mind for you. He’s young, very powerful, and very loyal to our cause. He would support you in your studies, and I can also keep a close eye on him as we work together frequently. His blood is pure and his family is old, but he’s neither British nor French, and so Mummy is a little skeptical.”

“You think he would be a good match for me?” 

“Yes. Your children would be exceptionally powerful.” 

“He’s a Death Eater then.”

Bellatrix smiled. “Part of the inner circle of the Dark Lord’s most devoted followers.” 

Andromeda’s stomach churned again at the thought of Bellatrix being anyone’s follower. 

“But you would never...” there was no easy way to say this, and she feared Bellatrix’s reaction, but she needed to know, “...expect me to be a Death Eater?” 

Bellatrix laughed again, wildly. She stopped walking and cupped Andromeda’s chin in her black gloved hand. Andromeda felt the leather lightly stroke her exposed neck, and her breath caught.

“Oh no, no. Not you, Ands. Your duty will be as a wife and mother. We need soldiers, yes, but we need mothers like you most of all. We’re working to secure a future for our pureblood children. Some of us will work to create a world worth inheriting. Others will create the next generation.” 

During moments like these, Andromeda forgot that she and Bellatrix were now the same height and had been for years. She looked into Bellatrix’s grey eyes and tried to remember that she could breathe. Moments like these, Bella was a knife’s edge, and Andromeda never knew what movement would knock her off balance. Love was such an odd, unsteady feeling.  

“I’ll keep you safe. If anyone gives you trouble at Hogwarts, let me know.” Bellatrix’s mouth curled into a dangerous smile. 

An unwelcome image of a troublesome Hufflepuff flashed in her mind, and, not for the first time, Andromeda was glad Bellatrix’s formidable talents did not include Legilimency. 

Andromeda reached her arms around Bellatrix and hugged her. Bellatrix laughed again and pulled her in tight. She kissed Andromeda’s forehead before pulling Andromeda back into the embrace, pushing Andromeda’s face into her mane of black hair. Andromeda let herself sink into her sister. 

“I love you,” Andromeda said softly into Bellatrix’s hair. 

“I love you too,” Bellatrix replied with calm authority. “And there’s no need to get maudlin with me. Our cause is honorable, and we have power you can only dream of. For all the vicious scheming of muggleborns, I am not afraid, nor should you be.” 

I’m not afraid of you dying. I’m afraid of losing you to him. But there were no words for such a sentiment, and so Andromeda continued to embrace her sister and hoped she was not already lost. Andromeda would marry whoever Bellatrix wanted to stay close to her sister. She was Bella’s and Bella was hers. 

Arm in arm, the two sisters walked back to the chateau. 

Rose Granger-Weasley’s Thesis Draft (Draft!!!)

Chapter 4:

Pureblood Rituals 1925-1981

During the period of 1925-1935 and then again from 1977-1981, the solstice ritual centered figuratively and literally around a pureblood female infant (Murphy & Burkes, 1999). Pureblood women, their fertility and their need to be protected from muggle men, operated as a central part of the cultist practice. It is unclear exactly why the infant centerpiece fell out of favor in the 1930s, but it may have been the absence of sufficiently “pure” pureblood female infants. An alternative theory is that Melania Black née McMillan, found centering the ritual on an infant in the middle of winter dangerous and repugnant, and there is one anonymous allegation that a child almost died in the winter of 1935 due to unusually cold weather, insufficient warming charms, and delay in seeking medical care (Burks & Halloway, 1999). However, no other source substantiates that claim. 

The ritual took its influence from a menagerie of Arthurian legend, Viking mythology, and Greco-Roman witchcraft in the Apollonian (not Circian) tradition. The creators, Arcturus Black and others, selected elements of each culture that appeared most visibly dramatic and emblematic of the pureblood power which they considered to be true magic. They wove them together for a neo-traditional display. 

Through this solstice practice, a powerful segment of pureblood society used the logic of a noble and abandoned past in order to justify their continued, though newly precarious in their perception, place in wizarding society. This ritual constituted a politics of nostalgia, the subtext of which implied that the families could rejoin and recreate that perfect British wizarding society of the Arthurian age through the elimination of muggleborn witches and wizards and the subjugation of muggles. Those leading or taking part in the ritual did not need to explicitly call attention to muggles and muggleborn people in order for the connection to be understood. This was an experience of true magic, untainted by the theft of muggleborns, and they could have more of it, if only they eliminated “the muggleborn problem.”

Of course, there was no unique magic of the ritual outside of the usual power of magical beings united for a shared purpose. However, just because there was no truly unique magic in this ritual did not mean it was weak or purposeless. On the contrary, the magic of this ritual was in the narrative it helped develop about pureblood society besieged by muggleborns and under threat by the duped and duplicitous blood traitors. 

The ritual spoke to a noble past, which could only be obtained again by violence. The vicious lie of the ritual helped inform the logic of the Death Eater cult of the 1970s. Indeed, the Dark Mark, seared into the flesh of the Death Eater cultists and the memory of witches and wizards of the dual war eras, took its stylistic influence from the snake emerging from the Wolfsangel of fire which was used in the ritual for the entirety of its existence from 1925-1981. The Wolfsangel, a runic symbol used for warding off werewolves by ancient Germanic wizards, which continued to be used for warding off dark creatures throughout the tenth through twentieth centuries, also implied protection from the long night of the solstice and a way of taking that power back. 

[too direct? Will be tricky to articulate if I’m afraid of Burke. Fuck him if he’s offended anyway.]

[add more to this section after next mtg w/ Teddy’s gran. Make sure the meeting is earlier in the day than last time. Q for advisor - ethics of interviewing non-sober participants? Q - did ritual change from 1960s to 70s as DEs grew in power/influence?]

Chapter Text

After the holiday in France, Hogwarts was a place where Andromeda could be sure the ground beneath her was solid, a few moving staircases notwithstanding. 

Or, a certain Hufflepuff notwithstanding. 

Andromeda and Teddy ran into each other in the hallway before Charms. Andromeda pretended not to notice her. Teddy turned back to her Hufflepuff friend with her unshakeable smile, unbothered. Andromeda knew she was being rude, but whatever strange and inexplicable thing that had happened between them the previous term ought not happen again, and Andromeda did not fully trust herself around Teddy. They practiced their animation charms on tea cups on opposite sides of the room, and she did not glance over at Teddy more than three times the whole class. 

Restraint. 

Unfortunately, Andromeda and Teddy shared Herbology as well, and Andromeda’s self-control faltered much faster than she had anticipated. Andromeda watched Teddy from the other side of the table of Tuttlebough pods Sprout had the class cracking. 

Teddy concentrated hard on the work, flashing a slightly lopsided grin once she had successfully opened a particularly thick and difficult pod. Andromeda smiled at it, despite herself. She watched Teddy reach into the faintly smoking pod and draw out the undamaged black seed with strong, sure hands then give it a little toss with all the faux-careless grace of a Quidditch player. 

Teddy started tossing the pod up about, as easily as if it were a Quaffle. Andromeda smacked her mallet down, missed her pod completely, and hit the table with a loud thunk. 

Teddy glanced up and caught Andromeda’s gaze. Andromeda looked into Teddy’s hazel eyes for a moment too long before turning away, pretending to re-inspect her pod, and it suddenly occurred to her that she missed Teddy, and it felt less than pleasant to have her so close without being able to talk with her. She wanted to hear about Teddy’s holiday and how it felt to spend time with her sister and her parents. She wanted to know if they sang Christmas carols and had a tree and did all the Muggle rituals she didn’t fully understand. Andromeda could feel Teddy looking at her now, and she refused to give in again. She fiddled with her pod, inspecting it closely and noticing nothing at all about it. 

Cracking Tuttlebough pods was a stupid exercise anyway - the pods were just a poor substitute for ashwinder eggs. They could do the same job in some potions but just about half as effectively. (But at half the price - they did have a role to play in some penny-pincher’s potions.) 

Andromeda raised her mallet to strike her pod again. She heard Teddy laugh at some joke from the other Hufflepuff. Her laugh was bright and genuine, and, at the sound, Andromeda made eye contact with Teddy, missed both her pod and the table, and smashed her mallet on her fingers. 

Merlin bloody fuck, she cursed silently, dropping her mallet to squeeze her injured fingers as subtly as she could. 

She saw a gloved hand reach across the table. In a smooth motion, Teddy grabbed her pod, pulled it across the table, and broke it open with the mallet in her other hand. She pushed the pod back across the table. 

“You’re welcome, princess,” Teddy mouthed. 

“I. Did. Not. Need. Your. Help.” Andromeda mouthed back, trying to enunciate every word so her meaning would be utterly clear to Teddy and unheard by anyone else at their table. 

Teddy looked at Andromeda with a satisfied smirk. Her hands were still gloved, and she used her forearm to push her loose dark blonde waves back from her face. Her hair stuck straight up in places and lay completely flat in others. 

It was not charming. 

Andromeda was not charmed by it. 

She definitely had no desire to run her hands through Teddy’s hair and fix it. 

“You. Are. Mock. Ing. Me.” Andromeda mouthed back, her attempt at a stern face slipping away. 

Teddy gave a little shrug and turned back to her Hufflepuff friend. 

The nerve! 

Andromeda roughly grabbed another pod from the barrel beside her. 

Stupid, cocky, arrogant Hufflepuff with her stupid smiles and stupid Quidditch-reflexes and stupid hands. 

Stupid generosity. 

Stupid strong arms. 

Stupid kissable mouth.

Andromeda continued working in a huff until Professor Sprout dismissed them for lunch. By coincidence, not by her design - definitely not - she and Teddy walked through the door of the greenhouse together. Her breath caught in frustration as their shoulders brushed up against each other and gloved hands rubbed up on each other.

Stupid Hufflepuffs. 

That evening, Andromeda curled up in one of the high-backed velvet armchairs in the Slytherin common room. Built under the Lake, the dormitory never got as cold in the winter or hot in the summer as the rest of the castle. Even so, she appreciated the fire burning in the hearth nearby and the emerald cashmere throw on her lap as she finished her Transfiguration reading. 

A small group of second-years played Exploding Snap in the corner. The black-haired one who followed Lucius around like a lapdog was not with them; presumably, he was with Lucius. Fifth years and seventh years were, as usual, grouped up and studying more frantically than anyone else. She worked in this particular chair when not studying with Narcissa or Graham because it gave her a good view of the common room and the door. She liked being able to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the rest of the house, in particular the comings and goings of her younger sister and one Lucius Malfoy. 

Andromeda had not asked her about him again, and she never saw the two of them together, but she still kept an eye out for that tall blonde prat. She hoped Narcissa was fully past him. He may have money and a grand estate, but exploiting and cheating Muggles was an unseemly way to build a fortune. Nothing built that rapidly could be trusted. Andromeda saw the way he looked at her sister with an undercurrent of desire, and she didn’t trust that either. Even absent his personal behavior, that nouveau riche family was not worthy of the Blacks, and she didn’t care that the sentiment made her sound like Aunt Walburga. 

Unbidden, as if the combination of “untrustworthy,” “desire” and “not worthy of the Blacks” was some sort of mental rune, the image of Teddy mouthing “You’re welcome, princess” appeared in her brain. 

Andromeda had forced away thoughts of their kiss for weeks, but she missed it and her. She wanted Teddy, she could admit that. She could be brave enough and honest enough to admit that small thing. 

When she thought of Teddy, of kissing Teddy, of being held by Teddy, she could feel an ache in her chest that felt so real it almost hurt, but desire was fickle and of little consequence. Family and marriage and blood and tradition were solid, unyielding, enduring. Desire was, for pureblood men, a fun distraction. 

And for pureblood women too? 

She wondered if her mother had ever had an affair. Probably. She would do a better job of hiding it than their father had. She had never seen her father with another woman, but Narcissa had caught him two years ago and Bellatrix had just after she graduated from Hogwarts. 

Andromeda could think this through logically. 

Teddy was a muggleborn. The girl part was less relevant - though it would ensure there could be no pregnancy. So maybe it was relevant and a point in their favor? 

Could Teddy keep a secret? Would Teddy be comfortable being a secret? Teddy, with her harsh accent and her short hair and her loud politics, was so open about who she was - muggleborn, homosexual, working-class. It was difficult for Andromeda to imagine that Teddy would be willing to hide a tryst. 

But there would be nothing at all of consequence to hide, and Andromeda could simply deny any accusations. The threat of Bellatrix would be enough to stop gossip before it could possibly start. 

She knew, and half of Slytherin knew, Phillipe Rosier had been boffing a muggleborn Ravenclaw all last year until he finally ended it to ‘focus on his role as the heir.’ He had hardly been the first pureblood man to have that kind of relationship. 

If Rosier, that pretentious bore, could get away with an affair with a muggleborn, what was stopping her? It was not as if she was going to marry Teddy or let some sort of fling get in the way of her engagement. That was very much impossible. 

And Teddy? Teddy wanted her just as much. Andromeda was certain of very little in regards to this whatever-it-was, but she was certain of that. 

Andromeda shut her Transfiguration text and smiled a cruel and satisfied smile worthy of Bellatrix. If her cousin could have a Hogwarts fling, so could she, and she would do a much better job of keeping it from the school gossip-mill. 

For the first time in months, she felt absolutely in control. 

After dinner the following day, Andromeda trailed Teddy out of the Great Hall. Teddy walked with Edgar Bones, a pureblood. The Bones family seemed to be debasing themselves by the day, according to her mother. On second thought, she should probably begin discounting her mother’s opinion. The pair of Hufflepuffs chatted animatedly about Quidditch, of course, and Bones waved his gangly arms around to indicate a specific play (or at least that was what Andromeda thought she saw, with those arm motions and steps, it could have been some absurd Hufflepuff dance.) 

“Hello, Tonks, Bones.” Andromeda gave each of them a quick nod. 

Edgar looked confused and wary but offered his own stiff greeting. “Hello, Black.”

Andromeda looked to Teddy and said in a disinterested tone, “Professor Sprout asked me to give you this.” 

Andromeda slipped the note into Teddy’s hand, allowing their fingers to brush together. She smiled to herself with the absurdity and recklessness of it all. 

“Oh, thanks, Black.” Teddy looked confused as to why her head of house was using a Slytherin prefect for messages until she opened the note. 

Andromeda had planned to walk away before the note was opened. It would be less suspicious, and she told herself it did not matter what the Hufflepuff’s reaction was. This was a game, and Teddy would be fun to play with. 

But Andromeda was tempted to watch, and the reaction was fun. 

Teddy’s jaw dropped as she looked up from the note and made eye contact with Andromeda. Confusion, skepticism, curiosity, and enthusiasm all flitted across her face. Andromeda looked back at her and smiled before turning to walk the other way down the corridor. 

She heard Edgar Bones ask Teddy, “What was that about?” but didn’t wait to hear the answer of whatever Teddy’s poor attempt at lying may be. That part was Teddy’s responsibility, not hers. 

This was risky, sure. But if she were caught, it would be simple enough to explain that she was patrolling as a prefect and thought she heard something in the Astronomy Tower she needed to investigate. If Teddy got caught sneaking out after hours, that was on her. If Teddy tried to talk (which seemed unlikely but always possible), it would be simple enough to deny it. The rumor was too absurd to be believed, and the paper would burn in another minute.

She was untouchable. 

Andromeda strode towards the library. She had a Transfiguration essay to finish, and she was not going to have time tonight. 

The Astronomy Tower had a certain reputation with students after hours. This had less to do with its suitability for evening rendezvous and more with the ease of getting caught if one did not take basic precautions. Many nights, there were midnight lessons, and, if you weren’t aware of the schedule, you might be caught in flagrante delicto by a group of first years arriving for their weekly midnight astronomy lesson - like Milton Cattermole and Yvonne Bode in October. (Both heterosexual half-bloods, little scandal to be had there.) 

Andromeda was not worried about being caught. She knew the schedules; she was a prefect. 

Still, she paced around the top of the Astronomy Tower, taking occasional sips out of the bottle she had smuggled out the wine cellar in Bordeaux over the holidays to ease her anxiety. The wine was helping but not enough to quiet her nerves completely. She was not going to be stood up - even if she had made an absurd request of an almost stranger. 

“Astronomy Tower, 11pm, tonight.” 

Could Teddy have thought that this was a trap, a threat? That she had hidden Yaxley behind a column and the violet dolt was there waiting to curse the unsuspecting muggleborn? Given their history, Teddy must have assumed that. Gods. 

Andromeda took another sip from her bottle. 

But that smile in response to the note. Teddy had wanted to come. Andromeda didn’t need any skill with Legilimency to be certain of that. What if Teddy had told a friend of her plan? Told Bones, who was certainly less enamored with her and full of more sense? And Bones had (wisely, Andromeda admitted) told Teddy not to go? 

Or what if Teddy had gotten caught? Well, that was on her then for getting caught. Had she never snuck around the castle at night before? Teddy was a sixth year. Guilt bubbled up despite her excuses. 

Andromeda sat down by a window and took another sip of wine. She leaned her head against the icy glass pane and watched the top of the stairs carefully. Andromeda decided a January evening in the Astronomy Tower was not terrible, might even be nice. She could have quiet time to think. Think about the absurdity of waiting for a muggleborn girl. Think of what Cissy would say if -

Knock, knock.

Andromeda jumped, knocking the half-filled bottle to the floor and turning towards the window. 

Teddy floated on a broom just outside the tower. She had a fuzzy winter cap on her head and a yellow knit scarf wrapped around her face and was barely recognizable but for the crinkled hazel eyes and the impossibility that it could be anyone else. Andromeda grinned back and felt the rush of elation surge through her body. 

“Teddy!” 

Teddy gestured to the window. 

Andromeda quickly unlatched the window and pushed it open, letting a gust of cold air blow in. 

“Get it, get in! You must be freezing!” 

Teddy clambered in, less than gracefully. One of her legs caught on the window, but she managed to make it fully in and land on her feet with her broom in her hand. Andromeda hovered, not sure how she could be helpful, not feeling comfortable helping her in. Teddy finally stood upright in the dim light of the tower, and Andromeda stared at her, utterly delighted. 

“Hello, Black.” 

Andromeda kissed her. (The wine was a very good idea.) Teddy’s lips were still cold, but so perfect. The scarf tickled her chin as Teddy kissed back and wrapped her arms around Andromeda. 

“You came,” Andromeda said as she pulled her lips away and kept her face just inches from Teddy’s.

“Of course. I had to innovate - not all of us have prefect badges that allow us to wander the castle at all hours unimpeded.” Teddy smirked at her and kissed her again, softly. 

“So flying on a cold January night in Scotland was the safer option?” Andromeda took Teddy’s fingers in her own and tried to warm them. 

“I wanted to make a dramatic entrance for you, princess.” Teddy winked, and her attempt at suave lasted for a moment. Andromeda almost believed her until Teddy laughed and said, “I made it about twenty feet into the corridor before I heard McGonagall just around the corner. I turned back immediately and decided I needed to come up with a back up plan before you thought I had stood you up on purpose.” 

“It was a rather dashing entrance.”

“Really?”

“Maybe.”

Teddy laughed and rubbed her hair back. She leaned back from Andromeda with a cheeky grin, and Andromeda couldn’t help the flutter in her chest. 

Andromeda pulled her back in for another kiss, crashing into her without any sense of decency. With a fluid motion, Teddy cradled her head in one arm and her waist in the other and pushed her into the wall. Andromeda let out a quiet moan as Teddy ground her hips into hers as they kissed.

“Is this good?” Teddy whispered.

“Bloody obviously,” Andromeda breathed back impatiently pulling at the back of Teddy’s shirt. 

With one hand still in her hair, Teddy reached the other under her skirt. She traced her fingers gently around Andromeda’s upper thighs. First the left, then the right. She let her pointer finger flick over Andromeda’s underwear. 

Andromeda gasped. “Please.” 

“Please, what, princess?” Teddy asked. 

Andromeda gasped again. “Just - please.” To say any more words might make it real, and she had fully sunk into this unreal world where she could kiss muggleborn girls and be happy. “Please.” 

And Teddy obliged. 

As they lay tangled together on the rough stone floor, Andromeda kept laughing - tiny, breathy laughs. The stone was hard, her leg was falling asleep, and there was no possible script for what she was doing, and she was comfortable. 

Finally, Teddy looked at her sheepishly. “I feel like you’re laughing at me.”

Andromeda gasped, “Oh no! I’m not laughing at you.”

“I just want to be in on the joke.” 

“It’s just - I’m laughing because I’m so, so happy. I don’t know what to do but laugh. I’m not laughing at you.” 

Whether or not Teddy believed her, Teddy seemed at least somewhat satisfied. The situation was too delicate to say anything more. 

Teddy drew lazy circles on Andromeda’s chest with her fingers. She traced circles then spirals then waves and then circles again. Andromeda’s shirt lay carelessly on her body, half unbuttoned and fully undone.

She offered a contented sigh as she arched her back to allow Teddy more access. She was so in her body - she could feel herself from her toes to her fingertips to her solid chest. 

It was Teddy who finally brought up the lateness of the hour.

They straighten their clothes, buttoning and fastening. Andromeda pulled her skirt the right way round, buttoned up her shirt and pulled her jumper back on. She ran her fingers through her hair to make it somewhat more presentable. 

Locking that part of her away, that happy part, Andromeda straightened her back and took a deep breath. 

Teddy leaned in for one last kiss, and Andromeda was not going to say no. 

“It almost goes without saying,” Andromeda said quietly as she pulled away from the kiss, “But, this, this is just between us.”

“Of course.” Teddy smiled at her and shook her head gently. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been the dangerous secret of a pureblood girl.” She looked down, and her smile faltered ever so slightly before she kissed Andromeda on the forehead. 

Andromeda struggled to process her words. 

Was she using Teddy or did Teddy just take advantage of her?

Teddy pulled away and carefully put her hat, gloves, and winter cloak back on. Andromeda handed her the yellow and black Hufflepuff scarf. 

“Next week, same time?” Andromeda asked with another burst of courage and desire, ignoring her uncertainty as to which one of them was using the other.  

Teddy’s grin was real this time as she nodded, half out the window already. 

“Don’t fall in love with me,” Teddy said with a wink and a mocking tone. 

Andromeda let out a bark of laughter that reminded her eerily enough of Bellatrix. “Not a chance of that, Tonks.”

“Good night, princess.” 

Teddy clumsily climbed the rest of the way out the window, and Andromeda watched her fly away, before drawing the latch closed. She smoothed her hair one final time and began the long walk back to the Slytherin dormitory. Her patrol was finished. 

Andromeda, busy with course work and delighted and distracted by her weekly trysts with Teddy, didn’t recognize, until it was almost too late, that Hogsmeade weekend aligned with Valentine’s Day. That was unfortunate. It was Slughorn’s party all over again. 

Valentine’s Day, with all of its public displays of desire and affection and need for attention, was the opposite of what she had with Teddy. Which of course, was not love or romance or anything silly like that, and so it really had nothing in common with whatever Valentine’s Day was about, anyway. Whatever she had with Teddy was private and fun and a welcome and temporary distraction. 

It was not love or courtship or dating. 

It very much was not. 

Teddy might pop into her head here and there, and she might smile as she thought of Teddy talking through her detailed emotional support of every member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team or stir with desire as she thought of Teddy rubbing her hands through her hair, but the affair was not anything of importance. She was just getting to do what pureblood boys always get to do - have a casual fling with someone unsuitable for marriage. 

Well, Valentine’s Day was not anything of importance either. They were just unimportant in different, entirely unrelated ways. 

Students were pairing up for the Hogsmeade weekend at an alarming rate. Goyle had asked her to go to the Three Broomsticks with him, and Andromeda almost hexed him. The presumption. But of course, she did not do that. She smiled politely and said she regretted to say she was unavailable. Her smile may have revealed too much, however, and he looked a bit frightened. No one else asked her, which was, while for the best, inconvenient. 

Narcissa had told her she had plans with other fifth years. Her sister had been acting strangely, spending long hours in the library and acting distracted whenever they finally had the chance to talk, but Andromeda chalked it up to O.W.L. stress and hoped that some time with other fifth years would help rather than make her feel worse. The other sixth year girls were all paired off with nice enough boys. Again, she found herself in need of a suitable man. The need for dates was endlessly tiresome. At least when she was engaged, she would never have to do this again, and, for now, there was that little half-blood who owed her. 

The Potions classroom filled with the smell of lavender and cow manure and the sound of soft, quick chopping. Protection potions required the freshest of ingredients, and so nothing could come prepared. Andromeda made quick work of chopping another dose of lavender before passing the fresh pile along to Graham, who slid the pieces into their thick, pale blue potion with his right hand while stirring clockwise with his left. 

“The potion should be darker than that,” Andromeda commented after glancing at the potion quickly, slicing up the mandrake root into fingernail sized pieces. 

“I know. I think if we add one more drop of cowbane, it should be right.” 

“Or it will be poisonous.”

Andromeda handed him the finely sliced mandrake root. Graham switched to stirring counterclockwise while dropping them in. The potion remained pale. 

“Alright, let’s try the cowbane.” Andromeda grabbed the tiny jar with its neat, cursive labeling, and a clean dropper. “Ready?” she asked. Graham nodded. 

Andromeda selected exactly one drop of the milky white liquid and released it directly into the center of the cauldron. The potion immediately turned a midnight blue. 

“Nice work, Anderson,” Andromeda said, smiling slightly.

“Excellent administration, Black,” he responded with his own grin. 

They spent the rest of the class taking turns stirring. The thick, sap-like texture of the potion made the required addition two hundred stirs physically straining. As they settled into their rhythm, Andromeda asked, “Got a date for Hogsmeade?”

He looked at her with one dark eyebrow raised. “No. I have some errands to run, but it shouldn’t take all day. Are you asking me?” 

Andromeda smiled at him, her best charming, Black smile. “Yes, of course. Hog’s Head? After you run your errands?”

“Perfect, Black. I’ll see you then.” He winked at her. Andromeda got the strange impression that he knew more than she had told him. 

Andromeda watched Graham stir the final twenty five rotations. The more she looked at him, the more she could see his mother’s Greengrass blood in him. His wizarding background was not immediately apparent. He had his father’s muggleborn features - thick dark eyebrows and hair, the blunt shape of his chin. But as she spent more time with him, she could see the shape of the cheekbones and nose that belied his wizarding ancestry, even if the Greengrass family would never acknowledge it. 

(Everett Greengrass had been particularly cold to him when they had arrived as first years to the Slytherin common room. She had never talked with Graham about it, but she imagined it smarted.) 

She knew the Greengrass family blamed his father for Lilian’s death, and Andromeda’s own parents did as well. Every parents’ worst fear: their daughter would run off with a muggleborn boy and would die alone, without family support. Even if she had run away fully of her own volition (a topic that was still hotly debated when any recent gossip got dull), her life was still a tragedy. A tragedy that led to this halfblood, working as hard as he could to excel, to make up for his bastard pedigree.

Graham never brought his mother up, and Andromeda knew never to ask. 

While Graham sorted out his business (acquiring items of varying legalities to be resold at Hogwarts, she assumed), Andromeda walked through the snowy Hogsmeade streets and into the woods at the edge of the town, savouring the privacy. 

She wondered what Bella was doing at this very moment, if she was with the Dark Lord she was so infatuated with. It still shocked her that Bella found a wizard more powerful than she and that she had pledged herself to any man at all. Obviously, she had married Lestrange, but that hardly counted. However the official documents and society looked, she and Lestrange were equals, if he was even that. 

What unholy power did this Dark Lord wield that had taken Bella in? 

She remembered her sister as a child, bold and tempestuous, when she utterly humiliated their second governess who thought to treat her as a child. The governess had tried to teach her a flame charm, but Bella didn’t like how she described it as “perhaps too advanced for a young girl like you.” Bella had set the governess’ hair on fire, and their mother had rushed a Healer to the house in order to avoid the publicity that St. Mungo’s might bring. 

That Bella was submitting to a Lord? Heir of Slytherin or not. 

She wondered what Bella would think if she ever found out about Teddy, but brushed that thought aside after another vision of fire. Bellatrix would never find out, and the dangerous possibility was not worth dwelling on. She turned from the comforting solitude of the woods and began to walk back to the village. 

Graham waited for her at the entrance of the Hog’s Head, and the pair walked in together, carefully stepping over the uneven, cracked stoop. She wouldn’t have survived a sappy Madam Puddifoot’s on Valentine’s Day, and the Three Broomsticks would be too crowded with third years trying butterbeer for the first time. As a prefect, she also wanted to avoid catching sight of any fourth and fifth years charming their way to real ale and firewhiskey if she could help it. 

The Hog’s Head was half-full, which was unusual - more often, it was mostly empty. There were a few other Hogwarts students, a group of seventh year Gryffindor men around one table, and what looked like a date between a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin in the far corner. More interesting were the older patrons, either annoyed with the student interlopers or amused with them. A witch with one eye and short black hair knocked back firewhiskey while reading a thick text, ignoring them all. 

The Hog’s Head was dirty, which Andromeda didn’t appreciate, but it was more quiet than any of the other local options, which made it the preferable choice. Andromeda cast a quiet Scourgify on the table before she sat down. The dust disappeared, and the table shone for the first time in perhaps a decade. 

Graham approached the greying red haired bartender like an old friend. Perhaps they were - one of his local connections. The bartender almost cracked a smile at something Graham said before looking straight at her with piercing blue eyes. She turned back to her table and pretended to be enamored with the old carvings in the wood, names and symbols and initials. She noticed a few runes, a more recently carved “AW+MP,” and a rather cringeworthy “GRYFF 1964.”

Graham returned with two ales - walking with a bit more bounce than he did in the school grounds. There were no purebloods to defer to in the Hog’s Head. 

As Graham set the drinks down, he said, “I wouldn’t drink the wine here, and I assumed you’d hex me if I tried to give you butterbeer.” 

Andromeda laughed and took a drink. The ale was middling, but it would do the trick.  “Very astute. I suppose your talents go beyond Potions then.”

“I have many talents,” Graham offered mockingly. “I can write Potions essays worth copying and order a drink at a bar.” 

“I have never copied your Potions essays.” Andromeda pretended to be offended. “Cribbed notes from, yes, but copy? Never.” She twirled a strand of hair around her fingers in her mock offense. 

“You may have never, but others have. Again, a poor half-blood does what he needs to,” Graham responded with a smirk and a subtle eye roll. Andromeda couldn’t read Graham’s expression. His smile was not a happy one, but she could not detect a hint of bitterness. 

Later, after Andromeda returned with their fourth round, Graham said with a looser smile, “All right, tell me a secret, Black. You know all about my supply lines into Hogwarts and which of your peers are into muggle street drugs. Let’s make it a fair trade.”

It seemed fair to her. Andromeda was warm and happy from the drinks and said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Gideon Prewett is gay.” Andromeda said before taking a sip of her ale with a sly smile. 

“Well obviously,” Graham scoffed. “I blew him behind the Quidditch pitch last year.”

Andromeda stared at him with her mouth open. She coughed slightly. “You and, and, Gideon?” 

Graham smirked. “Not all of us discriminate against Gryffindors.” He took a long sip of his drink without breaking eye contact with her. 

Andromeda opened and closed her mouth again before deciding it would be best to just drink her ale and say nothing. Now this was interesting news. 

She’d have to talk with Gideon about it when he came to France that summer. What else was he doing that he didn’t share with her? She supposed it was rather arrogant of her to presume that she knew his extracurricular activities, given that she did not share any of her own. 

(Any - she had just the one.) 

“It’s not nice to out people, Black. So, tell me an actual secret. And it better not be the name of another boy I’ve, let’s say, encountered.” Despite his words, Graham didn’t seem offended, and he continued to smile. He was toying with her, but Andromeda didn’t mind. 

Andromeda continued to be surprised by how much she enjoyed the half-blood’s company when they were not drilling runes or practicing transfiguration spells late into the night. He was charming and treated her with an irreverence difficult to find outside of her family. 

(Difficult to find outside her family, unless, of course, she counted Teddy, but Teddy and her smile and the Astronomy Tower existed in a separate universe from Andromeda’s normal life and so did not count, and she was not thinking about her now at all.) 

She appraised the half-blood before her. “We’re not friends, Anderson. But I think I’d like to be.”

At this, Graham let out a genuine laugh. 

“Are we not friends? Is there something to friendship beyond studying together and buying rounds and gossiping about other people who aren’t around?” He raised one eyebrow at her and leaned back in his chair with the casual elegance of a pureblood. She wondered how he learned to sit like that. Careful watching and deliberate practice, most likely. 

She rolled her eyes. He may be correct. 

“It’s just that I so rarely spend time with people outside my family. It’s mostly just my sisters and I. Everyone else is just so dull in comparison.” 

“Yes, we all know about your incredible codependent relationships with your sisters. I think you can expand beyond that.” 

“Hey!” Andromeda appreciated a little irreverence but this went a bit far. Is this the nature of friendship? Most people were too intimidated by her bearing and family name. 

(Except Teddy, of course, but she was a separate category and she and her hazel eyes had no relevance to this conversation.) 

(And, again, Andromeda was not thinking about her at all.) 

“Still no secret. I know you have them,” Graham teased as he gestured with his pint glass. He kicked her gently under the table. “What does a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black have to share?”

Andromeda felt warm and safe, and she decided she liked having a friend after all. 

She uncrossed her legs and leaned over. Both elbows on the table - poor manners that. 

“Fine,” Andromeda said firmly and imperiously as if stating the dullest actuarial details of her inheritance with a Gringotts goblin. “I’m gay. Obviously, it’s of no relevance as I will marry a man. It’ll just be slightly more unpleasant than it would otherwise be.” 

It was something she had never said aloud, but she had known for a while, known well before this nothing thing with Teddy started. Andromeda put her shoulders back and raised her chin and pretended that she was in control. 

Now it was Graham’s turn to stare with his mouth gaping open. He paused a moment to process before responding, and Andromeda felt gleeful as she basked in the shock of the half-blood. His expression was priceless. 

“Oh now that’s a good secret. Well done, Black, well done.” He looked utterly delighted. “Husband or no, I’m sure you can join a long line of married Blacks who have women on the side.” 

“You underestimate the gulf in freedom between pureblood men and women.” 

“Psh - you’re a clever girl,” he scoffed. “With the right motivation, I’m sure you could figure it out.” 

Andromeda considered it. Teddy and her dimples and her kind hazel eyes and her messy hair and her strong arms… No. It would be too risky. Too unfair to Teddy. Andromeda would have to let her go. Life goes on. There were bigger things than physical desire and fun - bigger things like family and legacy and tradition and sisters. 

The table of Gryffindors in the corner broke into an old pub song. Andromeda looked at the one-eyed witch who gripped her book tightly and wrinkled her nose. She seemed about ready to hex them. 

Andromeda downed the rest of her ale. “I think that’s our cue to get out of here.”

“You don’t want to watch Aberforth throw them out?” 

“I think I’ve had enough excitement for the day, and I don’t want anyone expecting me to act as a prefect in this moment.” Andromeda stood up from the table and glanced at the singing group. “Walk with me back to the castle?” 

“Of course, Miss Black,” he said with mock chivalry. Andromeda laughed. It was nice to have a friend. 

Chapter Text

February passed unexpectedly quickly. 

February was usually a slow, dull month without sun or major rituals. Other than a series of Dungbombs set off outside the Slytherin dormitory by Sirius and his friends, which required Andromeda to place Bubble-Head Charms on younger students so that they could cross the corridor without vomiting, nothing occurred. Classes were as they always were, challenging but doable, and, since her surprisingly honest conversation with Graham in Hogsmeade, the two had fallen into a comfortable studying routine based on more than shared ambition. 

She appreciated his wry observations of their classmates, and she finally had someone with whom she could mock the small absurdities of pureblood culture and of whom she could ask questions about Muggle life without fear of sounding offensive. Graham had been in Slytherin for almost six years - he was far past getting offended by curiosity. 

Graham had slipped almost seamlessly into the space in her life once occupied by Narcissa, who was constantly in the library or working in the Potions lab or patrolling or generally being any place that Andromeda was not. O.W.L. year was brutally difficult, and Andromeda knew Narcissa held herself to higher standards than anyone expected of her. 

She still received owls from Bellatrix, but her letters were more evasive than ever. Andromeda could not imagine what she was up to, but she knew it was more than managing the Lestrange estate or trying to achieve an heir. Bellatrix maintained the same refrain: Andromeda should be wary of enemies at Hogwarts. 

What enemies, honestly. 

There were the two Gryffindors she and Bulstrode caught smoking Muggle cigarettes out the sixth floor window who may hate her for ratting them out to McGonagall, but a pair of disgruntled Gryffindors with a nicotine habbit hardly counted as enemies.

Of course, Bellatrix was talking about the war and not about Muggle contraband in the castle. There was a war, theoretically, out there. Technically, the Ministry had been at war since 1970, but it was a quiet, odd war with occasional newspaper headlines but no deaths, at least of anyone wizarding. 

Bellatrix was involved in the war, the theoretical war, following her Dark Lord, opposing the Ministry. This meant that Andromeda opposed the Ministry too. She would follow Bellatrix anywhere, even behind a Dark Lord she had never met, and a cause she did not believe in, but she just wished she could understand what was going on. All the Death Eaters were doing was killing off the most brutish class of Muggles, the pedophiles and abusers and murderers. If anything, the Ministry should be thanking them for ruling the Muggles - as the Ministry itself should be, rather than declaring war on the vigilantes. 

Andromeda knew she was missing something - war seemed so unnecessary - but, like so much of family, it was just easier not to know. Or maybe there was a secret cabal of muggleborns preventing common-sense magical governance in Britain. Who knew? She wanted to be a better sister, a better daughter, and understand, but duty was duty, and she did not need to understand to obey. 

On the subject of duty and obedience, Andromeda’s mother owled more frequently than ever. There were suitors; there was opportunity to meet them during the Easter holiday; there was excitement felt by others. 

Andromeda skimmed the letters over breakfast and wrote quick, perfunctory replies while Graham laughed at the endless tedium of pureblood womanhood and she sent his eggs flying at his face in response. It seemed as though the shorter her replies, the more her mother would ask next. 

Yes, I’ll meet him at the Easter holidays. 

Yes, London is appropriate. 

Yes, a formal dinner sounds lovely. 

Yes, orchids. 

Yes, mother, yes.  

She imagined that getting pregnant, going through Healer training, and raising children in the next few years could not possibly be more tiring than pleasing her mother. She couldn’t wait for the attention to turn to Narcissa instead, and she wondered how Bellatrix had survived it. 

Her mother was always tiresome, Bellatrix’s moods always unpredictable, and Narcissa’s focus on O.W.L.s expected, but she was still shocked and a little alarmed by how much joy her meetings with Teddy brought her in comparison to the tedium of the rest of her life.

She expected her meetings with Teddy to be fun. That was the whole point: it was for fun, not anything that mattered. The sheer joy of them was unsteadying. The sex was pleasurable. Andromeda had not been aware bodies could feel like that. She was not aware her body could feel like that, and she finally understood why people could make such absolutely bone-headed decisions when it came to sex. 

(Though, of course, she would never make a bone-headed decision based on sex, and this little affair would end as soon as it needed to.)

But it was her conversations with Teddy she was really becoming addicted to. Not addicted, that would imply lack of choice and impulsivity. 

Just, especially enamoured by. 

Yes, that. 

Andromeda learned that Teddy was the type of Quidditch captain to know every last detail of her players’ strengths, motivations, moods, and weaknesses (“growth opportunities”). Andromeda learned that she loved hearing Teddy talk about anything, rumpled and open.  

On a gloomy February Wednesday, Andromeda and Teddy sat, half tangled, against the wall of the Astronomy Tower. They could see if anyone was coming up the stairs, but they were partially hidden by a column, which, in combination with a notice-me-not spell should provide them with enough cover if someone else risked the tower that evening. 

Teddy sprawled out, and Andromeda braided and unbraided her long, brown hair, leaning against her in the tower that had become theirs.

“Have you been with girls before?” Teddy asked, breaking the silence. 

“No!” Andromeda immediately insisted. “Never. Of course.” She paused and looked away from Teddy with a smile. “I did kiss Alvina Parkinson last summer after a ball, but that hardly counts. It was for practice for our husbands.” 

Teddy laughed and nuzzled at her head. “Got to practice for those husbands, of course.” 

“You?” Andromeda asked, though she knew the answer.

“Yes.” Teddy said with a smirk that Andromeda either wanted to kiss off or smack off.

Gods, Teddy was irritating. 

Fuck, Teddy was so hot. 

Andromeda turned so that she was facing Teddy. She narrowed her grey eyes. “Who?” 

“As I’m sure you appreciate, I don’t kiss and tell,” Teddy said, laughing as she pushed her hair back. “I will say you are not the only proper pureblood witch who is interested in a secret affair with the token Hufflepuff queer.” 

She lightly tapped Andromeda on the nose with her finger like a cousin would with a baby. 

It was infuriating. 

“You have to tell me.” Andromeda smiled, but the insistence in her voice carried through. 

“No.” 

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Andromeda huffed. As much as she wanted to know (and she did, truly, want to know), she was glad that Teddy refused to tell her. It meant a lower chance that Teddy would ever try to tell anyone about her. Andromeda shifted so she was no longer sitting half on top of Teddy and tangled up with her and instead next to her, shoulder to shoulder. 

After a pause, Teddy added lightly, “And there was a girl in my town this past summer.”

“A Muggle?”

“Yes, are you surprised?”

Teddy was muggleborn. Andromeda knew that. She could not forget it. Of course, Teddy would engage with Muggles outside her family, but it still seemed odd that Andromeda was in the Astronomy Tower with someone who had been with a Muggle. It was like being with someone who had been with a werewolf. 

“No - I suppose not.”

“Well, her boyfriend was,” Teddy said as if it were the punchline to a joke, but Andromeda was not so sure. She turned towards Teddy again. 

“What happened?” Andromeda asked softly. 

Teddy smiled and looked away from her, first out the south windows and then up to the carved beams of the rafters above. 

“Well, what do you think when some man learns his girlfriend has been fooling around with a dyke over the summer?” Teddy said with a small laugh, as if it was the silliest question in the world. 

“He didn’t,” Andromeda asked delicately, “hurt you, did he?” 

Teddy responded with a crooked grin. “Not much. Muggle hands have nothing on Bludgers. I’ve taken worse from my own teammates on the pitch.” 

“Teddy!” 

Teddy just shrugged.

“Were you able to fight him off?” Andromeda asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “You had your wand?”

Teddy scoffed. “Statue of Secrecy, remember?” She tapped Andromeda’s nose again, and Andromeda batted her hand away. 

It wasn’t funny. 

“But you can use magic if you’re in danger,” Andromeda insisted. “There’s an exception in the Statute-”

“And you think the Ministry would consider an angry Muggle teenager to be sufficient justification for an underage muggleborn to use magic? Not worth the risk.” She turned towards Andromeda and smiled somewhat bitterly. “If you had a Muggle swing a punch at you, I’m sure the Ministry would consider any use of magic up to and including an Unforgivable justified.”

“That’s not fair!”

Teddy laughed loudly and for a moment too long to be comfortable. “If you think that’s unfair, I have news for you about the entire magical legal system.” 

Teddy ruffled Andromeda’s hair, and Andromeda hit her hand away again in frustration. 

Andromeda wasn’t completely naive. She knew she could get away with actions muggleborns could not. That was just the way the world worked. She had seen magic well beyond a basic Stunner used against Muggles with no fear of consequence. She had used magic on Muggles with no fear of consequence, and, crucially, hauntingly, she had failed to use magic on Muggles, a Muggle, with rather severe consequences for him and none for her. 

The unfairness of the magical world towards muggleborns was just a fact of life. Unfairness towards Teddy was unacceptable. 

After sitting silently for a minute, Andromeda asked, her voice as low and dangerous as Bella’s, “What’s his name? The Muggle’s name?”

“Not a chance, ‘Dromeda.” Teddy shook her head with a quiet fury. 

“What’s his name?” Andromeda insisted again. 

“No.” 

They stared at each other, fuming. Andromeda refused to back down. 

“I’m not letting you go after a random Muggle boy,” Teddy finally said. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve experienced worse.”  After a pause, she added pointedly, “If you really want to protect me from bullies, I would suggest you start with your own House.”

“Teddy-”

“Am I wrong?” 

“I intervene on any bullying or harassment I see,” Andromeda said firmly. 

“You must have very limited vision then.”

“Teddy-”

“I don’t need you to fight Muggles. Just maybe, for example, tell your friends and cousins to stop using slurs against muggleborns in the corridors. Or is that just too hard for you?” 

They sat, shoulder to shoulder against the wall, refusing to look at each other. 

“Why are you on me about this tonight?” Andromeda asked, exasperated. “You know who I am, you know exactly which house I’m in, you know exactly what my family name is.” 

Teddy rubbed a hand through her short hair and sighed before responding. She said slowly, “You’re just so willing to protect me, to fight for me, when it’s against a Muggle. Don’t pretend you care about my safety - you have to know the real danger to me and people like me are the blood supremacists.”

Everything had to keep coming back to blood politics. Andromeda was so tired of it. 

Andromeda flipped over so she was straddling Teddy and kissed her hard on the mouth, a bruising, insulting kiss. She grabbed Teddy’s tie and pulled back so that her mouth was just inches from Teddy’s. 

“Do you want to talk about blood politics or do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Fuck you, Black.”

“Yes, please.” 

“You’re a terrible person.”

“I know.”

Sex that hurt was somewhere to put her frustration about blood politics and her impending engagement and the damn war. Bruised lips and scratches weren’t enough to make her forget Teddy was a muggleborn, a muggleborn, a muggleborn - if anything, that made it all louder, but it was a place to put her anger and self-loathing and shame and uncertainty. 

Tired and sweating, they left without saying another word to each other, certain they would see each other the following Wednesday. 

February slid into March, cold and dull except for Wednesday nights in the tower, where, whether they were fighting or fucking or just talking, they found ways to stay warm. Classes continued on, Slug Club continued on, prefect duties continued on, and the war continued on. 

The Prophet reported a skirmish between Death Eaters and the Aurors. No fatalities reported. A war with no deaths still. All the recent headlines were about the trade in unicorn hair and the Selkie legislation MacMillan was pushing instead, and Andromeda hoped that was a sign that the war-that-was-not-really-a-war would end soon. 

Her meetings with Teddy brightened her whole week. The days before were filled with anticipation and meaningful glances across the Great Hall or in the greenhouses. The days after were filled with the knowledge that she had just gotten away with something illicit and thrilling. The awareness that she had a secret in life that was just hers, untouched and unknown by anyone else, made her almost giddy. 

And, of course, the Wednesday nights themselves. 

Andromeda hurried through the corridor on her way up to the Astronomy Tower. She was late. A second year, one of Evan’s friends, had gotten caught experimenting with some truly nasty magic, and Slughorn had tasked her with explaining to him why it was wrong. Slughorn always tried his very best to avoid disciplining students, even if they were halfbloods raised near-muggle with no connections to speak of. Talking to the halfblood had been a waste of time. He was genuinely talented at spell creation - even if his skill level was greatly outmatched by his ambition and his capacity for cruelty - and she hoped he would at least try harder to avoid getting caught in the future.

Her mind still on Evan and his wannabe Death Eater friends, she turned the corner in the fifth floor corridor by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and almost ran straight into Narcissa. 

Narcissa was unexpectedly and uncharacteristically rumbled. Her long pale blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and she was smiling in a way that made Andromeda wary that Narcissa knew something she shouldn’t. 

“Not patrolling tonight, are we?” Narcissa asked. She tilted her head gently to one side. 

Andromeda flushed. Lying to her sister was different from lying to anyone else. 

Her chest tightened, and she replied, with her voice slightly too high, “Bulstrode and I split up on Wednesday and Monday nights. Gives us more time to study. Just patrolling by myself tonight.”

Andromeda took a breath and regained control of herself enough to narrow her gaze onto Narcissa. “And what are you doing out this late? I know you’re not patrolling tonight.” 

Narcissa gave Andromeda a small smile. “Just wanted to spend time in the prefect’s baths by myself tonight. To de-stress.” She did smell like the jasmine and peony of the scented bath bubbles of the prefect’s bath. 

The sisters stared at each other for a moment, evaluating. 

“Walk me back to the dorm? We can consider it your patrol shift for the night.” 

“I should stay in this area - I heard there might be some Gryffindors out of bed tonight,” Andromeda lied. 

“By yourself?” Narcissa asked with the faintest hint of suspicion in her voice. 

Salazar fuck. 

“I’m sure it’ll just be Sirius and his little friends. It’ll be better if it’s just me anyway - I can generally talk him down.” 

“I won’t tell Bella you’re patrolling for Gryffindors all by yourself. She’ll have a fit.”

Andromeda laughed at that, genuinely. “We’ll always be her baby sisters in need of protection.”

“Even if all we face is our immature Gryffindor cousin and his mates.” Narcissa’s expression shifted, and she added, “If you do catch Sirius out tonight, try to talk some sense into him. I’m worried about him.” 

Andromeda looked at her quizzically. “He seems like he’s doing fine? Bit annoying. Can’t believe he and his friends haven’t outgrown their Dungbomb phase.” 

“It’s his friends - a blood traitor Potter and a half-blood, and the whole of Gryffindor House being what they are -” Narcissa trailed off. “He’s the heir,” she added firmly as if it said everything, and, of course, it did.  

The whole family depended on Sirius in a way that was rather terrifying if Andromeda thought too hard about it, but she pointedly ignored the implications and laughed again. 

“It doesn’t matter who we interact with here. We’re still Blacks no matter what. Potter could be whispering the most traitorous garbage into his ears each night, and Sirius would still be a Black. There is no need to worry.” 

Teddy can whisper the most seditious slander to me each week, and it would never, could never matter.

Narcissa sighed. “If you say so. Can’t be too careful though.” 

“There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Hogwarts isn’t real life. Family is real life.” 

Teddy can touch me in the most unexpected and breathtaking ways, and it will never matter. 

Andromeda kissed Narcissa gently on the cheek. “I should get to patrolling.” 

I should get to the girl who doesn’t matter. 

“Goodnight, Cissy.” 

“Goodnight.”

Andromeda continued down the corridor and listened carefully to the soft sounds of Narcissa’s footsteps to be sure that her sister was gone before picking up her own pace to hurry to the Astronomy Tower. She didn’t want to leave Teddy waiting. 

Teddy and Andromeda curled up on each other under Andromeda’s cloak in the Astronomy Tower, a position they found themselves in almost every week, making excuses to stay later and later as they had learned to stay away from blood politics. 

It was still just sex, even if they stayed for hours afterwards. 

Andromeda was amazed how much they had to talk about, even as they danced away from headlines and theoretical wars and inter-house conflict. Even with more subjects off-limits than not, Teddy was the one person Andromeda wanted to talk to. 

After a particularly long and passionate rant about the merits of the Hufflepuff team and chaser strategy, Andromeda finally asked, “So do you want to play professional after Hogwarts?”

Teddy laughed. “Everyone always asks that.” 

Andromeda ran her fingers through Teddy’s hair and teased, “Well, you hardly talk about Quidditch so I have no idea why.” 

“I love Quidditch - obviously,” Teddy said before adding a bit bashfully, “But I want to help people.”

“Help people how?”

“I don’t know yet. The magical world is so amazing in some ways, but so comically backwards in others. Do you have any sort of child protective services at all? Care workers?”

“What’s that?”

“Like workers who intervene if a parent is abusing their child or assist families with, I don’t know, anything - food, shelter, childcare.”

“That’s the family’s job.”

“And what about if the parents aren’t doing a good job? Neglecting, hitting their children?”

“Bad luck then,” Andromeda said, rather defensively. “You just survive until you get to Hogwarts.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ. This is what I’m talking about,” Teddy said - though there wasn’t any real anger at Andromeda in her voice. 

Teddy was exasperated, and, despite herself, Andromeda loved when Teddy was like this, all impassioned and fundamentally good and honest in that strange, endearing way. Andromeda knew there was a rant about how to make the world a better place on the way, and she couldn’t help but be charmed by it. 

Avoiding blood politics when the conversation turned in this direction was a delicate game, but Andromeda wanted to push Teddy a bit farther. She was cute when she was full of righteous indignation. 

“I’m telling you - a muggleborn going around to wizarding families and telling them that they’re not treating their children right and threatening to, I don’t know, take the children away - that would not exactly go over well.” She nuzzled closer to Teddy. 

“Well, not something like that, then,” Teddy said, waving a hand above them. “But I do worry about wizarding children. ‘Just wait until Hogwarts’ is not a sufficient strategy for abused kids. And muggleborns - obviously we could do more to protect muggleborns from parents who don’t support their magic.”

Andromeda pulled away from Teddy slightly and stretched out her legs. She sighed. 

“There was a case a few decades ago - Muggle parents killed their daughter the summer after her first year at Hogwarts,” Andromeda said, her voice detached. “I don’t remember the details, but it was pretty horrible. My parents always used it as an example of why the current situation is untenable - either muggleborns shouldn’t be allowed at Hogwarts or they shouldn’t be allowed to stay with their Muggle families.”

“Christ. What ended up happening?”

“There was a furor initially, but then there was the big issue with Gringotts and inflation and postwar development on the continent, so the muggleborn child safety issue just sort of died away, I think.” 

Andromeda could have continued - she knew more - but this was dangerously close to blood politics. It was blood politics. The Muggle sympathizers resisted any potential Ministry control over Muggles and said the opposing side was just using a tragic death opportunistically. Her parents said the Muggle sympathizers were dangerously naive and more would die due to their foolishness. It was another topic Andromeda did her best to ignore. 

Teddy shook her head. “This is what I’m talking about! Someone needs to do more to protect magical children.” 

Andromeda smiled. She loved when Teddy got like this. “Well, whatever you decide to do - I’m sure you’ll do good.”

It was the truth, and it kept them away from more dangerous topics. 

“You think?” Teddy asked, surprised. “I’m not an overly ambitious and naive and sensitive Hufflepuff?” she teased. 

“Well, you are a naive and sensitive Hufflepuff, but the wizarding world is better with you in it, and you’ll do good things.” 

“You mean it?”

“Very much,” Andromeda whispered before giving Teddy a soft kiss and snuggling back into her chest. 

“And you want to be a Healer, of course?”

“Yes.” Andromeda traced her fingers down Teddy’s leg. She was so dangerously comfortable here. 

“Why? To help people?”

Andromeda laughed gently. “I’m not nearly so noble as you. But yes - partly. Healing’s a challenge, a practical choice. It’s respected. The profession offers a certain freedom to be more than Mrs. Whoever. A degree like that is not something anyone can take from me.”

“You’re smart enough for it.”

At that, Andromeda laughed and rolled over so that she could look Teddy in the eye. “You figured that out with your head between my thighs?” 

“No - I’ve just noticed.” Teddy looked down at her, and her hazel eyes were so warm.

Andromeda couldn't bear the weight of the silence and of Teddy’s gaze, and so she sat up abruptly. 

“I want to specialize in healing dark curses, dissecting dark magic. It’s playing with all the power and mystery of dark magic but for good.” 

“It’s like the opposite of dark magic.”

“No - not quite that.” Andromeda paused, trying to find the words. “More complement than opposite.” 

“Have you healed dark magic before?”

It was an innocuous question, and completely reasonable given the subject, but Andromeda’s breath caught. 

Teddy felt her stiffen and grabbed her hand. 

Of course Andromeda had healed dark magic before. Her mind flashed to the flat in London next to the Muggle post office and the smell of sulphur and the men who lived in the park. Who had lived in the park.  

“My sister practiced on animals - she said to give me practice too.” It wasn’t a lie. “I healed them after she cursed them.” 

She glanced back to Teddy, and Teddy’s horrified face reassured her that she was right to skim over the uglier part of the truth. 

“I know how that must sound - she’s really not that bad,” Andromeda continued, stumbling over her words. She felt the absurdity of her need for Teddy to like Bellatrix, but she carried on just the same. “My family can be complicated. She’s not a monster. She’s -” but there are no honest words to capture Bellatrix and no way to explain Bellatrix to Teddy in a way she might understand. “Let’s not talk about her.”

Teddy didn’t let go of Andromeda’s hand. She gave it a squeeze, and said, “My sister’s not perfect either.” 

Andromeda’s heart swelled at this unbelievable kindness. 

“Can you tell me about her?” 

Teddy’s tales of low grade bigotry and sibling rivalry was nothing like Bellatrix (no one was like Bellatrix), but they were comforting nonetheless. 

As she listened to Teddy share stories of a Muggle childhood, again, like every week, Andromeda reminded herself that this was meaningless and she should not get used to this foreign and uncomfortable and addicting feeling of being safe. Andromeda knew the happy nights in the tower could not last, and she was correct in that, but she wanted to enjoy them while she could. 

As she descended the steps from the Astronomy Tower that night, her memories of the previous summer came back unbidden. 

Yes, she had experience healing dark magic. 

As they usually did, she and Narcissa had spent most of the summer in Nice, escaping their parents for the relative freedom and complete lack of supervision of Aunt Lycoris’s estate on the Mediterranean Sea. An unexpected letter from Bellatrix at the start of August took Andromeda immediately back to London weeks early. If Bellatrix was in London and wanted to spend time with her, Andromeda would be there as quickly as one could toss Floo powder. 

Bellatrix was in London for matters that concerned the Death Eaters and not Andromeda, but she was generous enough to spend as much time as she could spare with her younger sister. Specifically, Bellatrix wanted to spend as much time as she could training her sister in the healing arts. 

Andromeda knew the general theory of understanding and identifying dark curses, which ones required incantations alone to heal and which required supplementary potions, but she had never had the opportunity to practice. She could perform a diagnostic spell fairly capably, because Narcissa let her practice on her body, but it was different when there was no major injury or spell damage. 

In a small, sparsely furnished flat in London, a Death Eater safe house, Bellatrix and Andromeda practiced first on a stray cat, orange and white and furiously angry. It screamed and snarled under Bellatrix’s blood boiling curse. The cat didn’t have a magical core, of course, and so Andromeda couldn’t rely on that to increase the strength of the healing charms, but she could heal it. The cat ran off as soon as it was healed, and Bellatrix let it scramble away. 

“Ready to practice on a person?” Bellatrix asked as if she were asking if Andromeda wanted to stop for dinner. 

The question was so unexpected Andromeda didn’t think to say no. Or, maybe that’s the optimistic edit to her memory. 

Maybe she had wanted to. 

Maybe she hadn’t wanted to but didn’t want to say to no to Bellatrix. 

Memories were so fickle. 

The London flat was near a run-down park. Andromeda had spent almost no time in Muggle London or Muggle-anywhere really. She had hoped that Muggles could enjoy nicer places too, because an air of decay hung around the park. There were Muggle men sleeping rough on cardboard and in tents. She wondered how Muggles let themselves live like that and, at the time, concluded it was just their barbarity. 

Bellatrix strode through the park, and Andromeda stuck close to her sister. She had never been around this many Muggles before, and it made her uneasy. 

Bellatrix selected one man nodding off on a bench. From ten feet away, she whispered “Imperio,” and the man rose, unsteadily, and followed them out of the park, all the way back to the flat. 

The Unforgivables were unforgivable for people who weren’t Blacks. Andromeda had always known that. The use of the curse hadn’t bothered her at the time.

Andromeda was sure someone would notice this Muggle following two women in robes out of the park, but no one seemed to care. 

Bellatrix directed the Muggle into the flat with them. He was shorter than they were, standing stooped in his shabby muggle clothing, a shirt with short sleeves and no buttons and blue-grey trousers too big for his thin frame. The blank look on his face both unnerved and reassured Andromeda that he would not remember this, and perhaps he wouldn’t even feel any pain. At the time, she was not certain if Muggles felt pain the same way wizards did. 

She knew now. 

“Ready?” Bellatrix asked her with a wide grin. She thrummed with anticipation.

“What are you-” but Andromeda didn’t finish her question before Bellatrix had her wand out. 

With a swift, downward slash, Bellatrix said, without losing her smile, “Expuo Aruspicem.”

Immediately, the man retched once and then twice, and a slimy mess emerged from his mouth. He gasped out, and his chest shook, and he retched again and threw up what appeared to be his entire stomach, lining included. He gasped again and fell to the ground. He couldn’t get air in his lungs. His whole throat was blocked with his intestines. 

Andromeda fell to her knees, wand out and ready as she scanned over his convulsing body. The counter-curse was simple enough, but if she used it while his stomach was still out, it might not heal probably without the aid of a regrowing potion, which she did not have on hand. 

She ignored Bellatrix’s laughter.

She put her wand in her mouth, gripping it between her teeth, and used both hands to shove, as delicately and precisely as she could, his stomach and intestines back into his mouth. He continued to retch, to try to expel his entire entrails. Once she managed his stomach to his mouth, it would have to do. She held it in with her left hand while circling her wand over his mouth - down his throat - to his stomach. “Aegrorem Sanentur.”

It took three repetitions for her to begin to feel the magic working. He stopped retching. By physically forcing his entrails back inside his body and repeating the spell, she thought she had done it. She ran a diagnostic charm on him. His health had not been good to start with, and this had not helped, but his organs were back where they should be. Examining him one final time, she caught his expression of sheer terror, which showed even through the dullness of the Imperius, as he laid still but breathing on the wood floor. 

Bellatrix barked out a laugh, interrupting her focus. 

“I didn’t expect you to actually touch him! That was very good. Excellent work.” 

Andromeda rose to her feet. The man remained on the floor; Bellatrix must have commanded him not to move, but his eyes darted back and forth. She could feel the rush of a resolved crisis throughout her body, sweetened by a compliment from her sister. 

In her edited memory, Andromeda imagined she had felt conflicted at that moment, imagined that at least a part of her felt guilty, but she did not. She had healed him. She had not even taken a N.E.W.T. level course, and she had healed a dark curse on a man without a magical core and without potions as a fallback. 

“You’re going to be an excellent Healer,” Bellatrix purred, and Andromeda believed her. 

Andromeda was reminded how good it felt to use magic, real magic, so deep and so powerful, and in the presence of her sister. She was almost breathless with the pleasure of it. She felt for the Muggle, she did. He did not deserve to be in pain, and she wished she had a potion for him. She waved her wand in a delicate arc and whispered, “Dolorem Minuere.” It wasn’t sufficient, but it would help. 

“One final thing.” Bellatrix kneeled down beside the man and grabbed his arm. His forearm was covered in red circular marks and small round scars. She held his arm roughly in her smooth, pale hands. In a flash, she had her silver knife out. 

He didn’t resist or scream as she carved an “X” into his forearm, but Andromeda saw the terror in his eyes. 

Bellatrix Obliviated him and sent him out of the flat. She embraced Andromeda, and Andromeda held her tightly, hardly noticing the blood and phlegm that she was getting over Bellatrix’s robes. 

“We’ll practice again tomorrow. I won’t make it as easy for you. You’ll be the best Healer since Mungo himself.”

They practiced for over a week, with just a few days off as Bellatrix traveled on other business. As Andromeda’s familiarity with diagnostic charms and standard healing spells grew, Bellatrix began using wordless magic so that Andromeda could not as easily identify the spell. Sometimes she had Andromeda close her eyes so she could not see the colour of the curse. 

Andromeda loved the challenge of it, the ticking clock, the satisfaction when she won. This was beyond N.E.W.T. magic. The only part better than the satisfaction of solving a deadly puzzle was Bellatrix’s gleaming smile as she gazed proudly on her sister, clean or covered in gore, blood dripping down her fingers. 

She worried about the Muggles. She did. But she thought that blocking out their terrified faces was part of becoming a real Healer. She could not let her feelings get involved. 

It was inevitable that she would eventually fail, that Bellatrix would set a task beyond her ability. She should not have been so arrogant to assume she would always win, that the cursed Muggles would always live. It was her fault for being so naive. She was not even a real Healer. She was sixteen.

The Muggle laying before her was bleeding out - she could tell from the diagnostic - but there were no wounds on his skin. Some blood trickled out of his ears and then his mouth, but the counter-curses to seal and heal wounds had no effect. 

Even putting him in a stasis charm to buy herself some time was not working. He was going to die very soon. 

Panicked, she looked to Bellatrix. “What was the curse?!” 

“An invention of a colleague.” 

“What is the counter-curse? Nothing I’m doing is working!” 

“There’s no known counter-curse yet. I was hoping you’d be able to invent one.”

“Invent one?!” Andromeda cried. 

Turning back to the Muggle, she muttered every spell she could think of that might help stop the bleeding that was not bleeding but was definitely a blood issue. She knew there was blood, but she could not see it. Where was the blood?

It was difficult to determine when, exactly, the Muggle died, but eventually Andromeda found herself muttering counter-curses over a dead body. 

“Pity,” Bellatrix said, giving the Muggle a slight kick with her foot. “You were on such a strong streak.”

“I killed him. We killed him.” 

“He’s just a Muggle.” 

Andromeda could hardly breathe. “Won’t they come looking for him - the Muggle law enforcement? Could the Ministry get involved?” 

“No one will come looking for one of the men who live in the park,” Bellatrix replied calmly. “Muggles are barbaric like that. Even the Muggles hardly consider him a person.” She gave the Muggle another small kick with her foot and glanced at Andromeda’s horrified face. “Don’t worry too much about it. Inventing a whole new counter-curse is not something many fully trained Healers can do.” 

Bellatrix floated his body to the fireplace and set him alight with wordless magic. Andromeda had never smelt burning flesh before, but she thought that there was a different edge to the smell than there should be, more sulphur than there ought to be. 

After the body was almost fully burnt, mostly ash except a protruding foot, Bellatrix grabbed the Floo powder. “Do you want to go back home now?” 

Andromeda stared at her for a moment before realizing that she wanted her to Floo home in the same fireplace a body was still burning. 

“Oh.” Bellatrix realized the issue. “Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can side-along you home instead.”  

Andromeda nodded. She couldn’t speak. 

Andromeda stopped responding to invitations from Bellatrix for additional healing practice, and Bellatrix did not push. Drinking helped, as drinking usually did with familial matters. She knew he was only a Muggle, as Bellatrix had reminded her many times. But it was still a death, and still her fault and her shame and her inability and her fault. She had a hard time sleeping. 

In the days after, Andromeda was alert for headlines blaring in the Muggle newspapers and even the Prophet. She even braved the Muggle streets to find copies of their newspapers to see if they would start reporting on the disappearance. But Bellatrix was right. No one noticed. The Muggles were bestial like that. But it felt like her fault, and it shook her to her core. 

By the time she had arrived at King’s Cross to return to Hogwarts for sixth year, she had placed the memory of the dying Muggle away with all the others that were too painful to consider, but the conversation with Teddy brought it all rushing back. 

Even worse, she kept imagining Teddy’s father as the dead Muggle. Teddy’s father, who was kind to Teddy and curious about her life and generous, and who was a Muggle. Teddy’s father, who looked like her, who had the same hazel eyes, on the corpse with a trickle of blood running out his ear. 

Andromeda wished she still had a bottle of wine tucked away in her trunk, but she had finished what she brought from France the previous week. The intensity of her guilt and her disgust with her failure threatened to overwhelm her. She knew better than to ever tell Teddy about the men in the park. Any repetition that he was only a Muggle, that his death didn’t matter, that the Muggles didn’t even care that he died rang false, and that in itself felt like a betrayal of Bellatrix, which only added to the swirl of disgust and self-loathing in her gut. She was not going to sleep well that night.

Chapter Text

Rain beat down on the Astronomy Tower. The day before had been unseasonably warm for late March, but their Wednesday night had to overlap with the return to the cold, wet weather of a Scottish spring. 

Andromeda wondered if Teddy would bother to make the trip. If not, Andromeda wouldn’t blame her. Andromeda certainly was not going to fly in this weather - her own trip was indoors and only interrupted by a particularly boisterous painting of a knight who insisted on fighting for her honour against any knaves in the castle. 

As she had practiced, she kept her expectations low, but she could admit she hoped for Teddy’s arrival with each gust that rattled a window in the high tower. 

When Teddy finally knocked on the window and tumbled through, soaking wet, and barely landing on her feet, Andromeda couldn’t help the flutter in her chest. 

Teddy stood up, transforming herself from a crumpled soggy mess to a standing soaked mess. “Made it!” Teddy said brightly as she stood up and took off her cloak, hanging it over a railing. 

Andromeda leaned in to kiss Teddy’s cold, wet lips and tapped her wand on Teddy’s chest for a nonverbal drying charm at the same time. The water on her clothes evaporated, and Teddy shook her head like a wet dog. 

Teddy pulled her in for a kiss, but there was something off about her movements - too deliberate, too obliging. Andromeda pulled away from her, and Teddy didn’t resist.

Andromeda sat on one of the stone benches that lined the tower and beckoned to Teddy to sit with her. 

Teddy continued to smile, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and, as they sat, Teddy kept looking away at the rain pelting at the windows. 

“What’s wrong?” Andromeda asked finally, recognizing that Teddy would not bring it up on her own. “Worried about the match against Gryffindor Saturday?” 

Teddy didn’t seem the type to get so nervous the days before a match, but Andromeda hardly knew Teddy. They were practically strangers. For all she knew, Teddy was the type to go off food for the full day before. The Gryffindor squad was looking decent this year, a fact she only knew because Sirius made Beater, which made the Gryffindor team worth paying attention to. 

Teddy looked back at her and then looked at the ground. “It’s nothing - no.” She ran both her hands through her hair and turned back to look in Andromeda’s direction, but she avoided her eyes.  “It’s not a good topic for us.” 

Blood politics. Of course. But even more than wanting to avoid a fight, Andromeda wanted to comfort Teddy. It hurt to see Teddy, who had always been resolutely cheerful, so dejected. 

Against her better judgement, Andromeda asked softly, “We can try?” 

Andromeda decided the warmth of Teddy’s appreciative look would make any fight worth it. She knew there would be a fight.

“Carole Porter - she was Hufflepuff Keeper when we were first years. I didn’t know her well, but Chetty does. She’s been missing for two weeks. She’s the second muggleborn to go missing this year.” Teddy sighed and ran her hands through her hair again. “Chetty’s a real mess about it, and obviously it’s shit timing with the match coming up, but more than anything I’m worried about Carole - given everything.”

“You’re sure she didn’t just decide to rejoin Muggle society?” Andromeda asked kindly, trying to comfort her. “It’s not uncommon to do so - I know the transition to wizarding society can be too much for some of them.” 

Teddy stiffened, and Andromeda recognized immediately that she said the wrong thing. 

“Some of them?” Teddy repeated. She pulled away from Andromeda and slid further down the bench so they were no longer touching. 

Why did blood politics always come up? And why did she always stumble into traps like these when it did? Shouldn’t she know by now to avoid the subject - or nod and offer vague affirmations? 

Andromeda then thought, rather defensively, that what she said was just the truth and Teddy ought to be less sensitive. 

“Just - muggleborns,” she said quickly. “Not you, necessarily, obviously. But it is a big transition, Muggle to wizarding, and it’s not surprising that some decide to leave our society and return to what they’re more comfortable with.” 

“That’s what the Prophet said, but you can’t possibly believe that.” Teddy let out a huff. “She wouldn’t just leave without saying anything to anyone!” 

“You just said you didn’t know her well. How can you be so sure?” Andromeda said, more harshly than she meant. 

“Because she would have told someone!” Teddy gestured wildly. “And she was very outspoken about muggleborn rights - just like Gilbert Thompson, who went missing in November.” Teddy glared at Andromeda, who stared back unmoved. 

“So you think it’s a conspiracy?” Andromeda asked. She did not roll her eyes, but it took real effort. 

“And you don’t? You really don’t think that two muggleborn activists disappearing could have anything - anything at all! - to do with the blood mania in wizarding Britain right now?” Teddy shook her head and spat, “What do you think the Death Eaters are doing?” 

Andromeda did not want to have this conversation, and she ignored the bait about the Death Eaters. 

“Sure, but it’s just more likely that they decided to live their lives as Muggles. Anyway, it’s only been two weeks. Maybe there’s trouble with the Muggle post or something.” She threw up a hand dismissively. 

“I’m telling you, as a muggleborn myself, that I do not believe that she would just leave like that.”

“But you’re-”

“Don’t you dare say I’m different from other muggleborns. Don’t you dare.”

Teddy was genuinely angry now, and she stood up and began pacing, running her hands through her short hair. Andromeda watched her pace. Her drying charm had been incomplete - she missed some of the rain on Teddy’s pant leg, and she wanted to dry Teddy now. She just needed to get off the topic of muggleborn conspiracy theories. 

“Fine. I’m sorry for whatever I said that was so offensive,” Andromeda said in a decidedly non-apologetic voice. 

Teddy kept pacing and refused to look at her. Andromeda didn’t know what was keeping Teddy from opening a window and flying away, back to the safety and warmth of the Hufflepuff dormitory, but she knew she didn’t want her to. Finally, Teddy shook her head and walked towards her broom. 

Merlin. 

Andromeda took a deep breath. 

What was she doing? Was she really going to let her pride get in the way of - well, in the way of whatever this was? She thought, somewhat bitterly, that their whole almost-relationship, their whole not-a-relationship, their whole affair in the tower was just going to be good sex and her apologizing for being a pureblood again and again until they graduated and went their separate ways. 

Andromeda didn’t understand it, but she knew she was probably in the wrong. Probably. Teddy was hurting. She knew the Death Eaters were just targeting the worst of Muggles and wouldn’t lay a hand on an innocent witch, even if the witch were muggleborn and loud about it. But Teddy was hurting, and that was real. And maybe she was wrong about some things. 

She took a second deep breath before responding. 

“I am sorry,” she said, this time with more conviction. “You know her better than I do. And you know what it’s like being a muggleborn better than I do.” Teddy paused her pacing and gave her a stern look from across the room. “Or - you know what it’s like being a muggleborn, and I don’t. If you’re worried about her, I shouldn’t doubt you.” 

She waited for Teddy to accept her apology. She thought it was a rather generous apology, all things considered. 

Instead, Teddy fixed her hazel eyes on Andromeda and asked, “What are we doing?” 

“I’m apologizing, and you’re maybe going to accept my apology?” Andromeda attempted a smile as she spoke. The air felt too delicate. Teddy’s expression was impossible to read. 

“No - I mean, us. This whole month. Two, three months, Christ. What are we doing?”

Can we please not have this bloody conversation. 

Andromeda had tried to avoid this specific topic for weeks, and she knew trying to have it in the midst of a fight about blood politics of all things was an exceptionally poor idea. 

“Having an Astronomy Tower tryst? Having a bit of fun? Even if I occasionally say something offensive and have to apologize?” Andromeda said lightly. She crossed her legs and stared up at Teddy, smiling innocently and daring a rebuke. She could feel the fragility of the moment. 

“Of course that’s what this is,” Teddy scoffed, breaking any sense that Andromeda had of fragility. Teddy walked towards Andromeda and leaned over her. “One of my little pureblood girls. That’s why it doesn’t matter to me that you’re a disgusting bigot.” 

“Fuck you, Tonks.” 

Teddy leaned closer. “And I’m sure all your pureblood friends would be so disappointed in you for moaning my name in the Astronomy Tower.”

“Fuck you, Tonks,” Andromeda said through gritted teeth as she glared up at her. 

She wasn’t turned on. 

She definitely wasn’t turned on by this. 

“Moaning, on your back with a mudblood on top of you -”

“I’m leaving. Goodnight.” 

“I’ll see you next Wednesday then, Black.” 

Andromeda ignored her and pulled her hair back and straightened her skirt. Without saying another word, she turned and left the tower. She was not going to stay and be disrespected by a muggleborn who believed in conspiracy theories and called her a bigot. 

And who was probably sleeping with other girls. But that part didn’t matter. It didn’t bother her to think of Teddy with other girls. At all.

But Andromeda came back the next Wednesday and the Wednesday after that. By mutual silent agreement, they avoided politics entirely. 

It had been a particularly difficult week. McGonagall was hitting them hard, and Slughorn had them working on Dreamless Sleep which required near-constant observation for a full seven days. On top of that, the prefects needed to intervene in a duel in the third year girls’ dormitory, of all things. (Boy-related, not war-related, luckily.) 

By Wednesday night, Andromeda was ready for Teddy and a break from N.E.W.T.s and prefect responsibilities and engagement nonsense. Even if she and Teddy hated each other, which they obviously did, the meetings were still exhilarating and a highlight of her week. Their newfound ability to avoid politics entirely meant they could even argue without resorting to insulting each other. 

Andromeda walked through the stone wall out of the Slytherin common room attempting to hide her thrill. It would look suspicious if she seemed excited for rounds, and she wondered if anyone had picked up on her consistently cheery mood each Wednesday evening when she did her patrol alone. 

She and Teddy had made eye contact in Herbology earlier that day, and the moment of near-intimacy in the crowded greenhouse exhilarated her. Each time they had brief, wordless contact in class or in a corridor, she felt a kind of giddy thrill that she hadn’t known her body was capable of. It propelled her through late nights studying, dull lectures, and even duller speculation on her impending engagement. 

“Andromeda,” Lucius called down the corridor, breaking her reverie. 

Lucius strode down with his shoulders back and his long, blonde hair flowing behind him like some sort of medieval princeling rather than the pompous, new money prefect he was. 

“Yes, Malfoy.” She turned to look at him and made her voice as hard as she could muster. 

Andromeda had been so good at avoiding him all year. This was the first time they were alone together. They were uncomfortably close in the deserted corridor, and she could feel the walls pressing down on her. Her heart raced and she was ready to run, but she wrapped it all up in a calm exterior as best she could. If there had been anything good bred into her, it was the ability to be poised under pressure, to bury the soft, vulnerable part of her so deep down even a man like Malfoy could not get his hands on it. 

“On your rounds tonight, make sure to take extra care monitoring outside Gryffindor Tower. I’ve heard that there may be some young students out of their beds tonight.” 

Gods, she hated his smarmy voice. 

“And you will be?”

“Unfortunately, I am needed elsewhere tonight. I trust you can handle it.” 

“Needed where?”

Lucius stepped towards her. He towered over, or at least it felt that way. Her hands shook, and she gripped her wand tightly. The grey stone walls of the corridor were closing in on her. 

“Nothing you need to trouble yourself with,” he said with a smile. “Good night, Black.” Lucius gave her a slight nod before turning towards the wall and muttering the password. 

After he departed, Andromeda walked purposely through the castle towards the Astronomy Tower. She couldn’t think about that boy or his power and crude manipulation and new money and violence and creepy little team of children. 

In what seemed like too short of a time, she finished climbing the stone stairs, and she was on fire. She could feel her heart racing as she entered the tower. Andromeda just needed to get through tonight, and she would feel better in the morning. She always eventually recovered after she ran into Lucius. She just needed to get through tonight.  

Teddy was waiting for her, cheeky grin on her face and broom in her hands. “Hello, ‘Dromeda.” 

Andromeda kissed her. Or, whoever was controlling Andromeda’s body kissed her. It wasn’t clear. Her arms felt alien. Her mouth was someone else’s. But this was a thing she needed to do, because she was normal, because Lucius had no power over her, because she and Teddy were just having sex and nothing more. 

She could feel Teddy pull her body in closer, surprised and delighted. Andromeda pushed Teddy against the wall and ran her fingers roughly through her short dark blonde hair. Teddy led her to the ground, undoing buttons as she went. 

Each action happened both in a flash and too long, dragged out. There was something wrong, she was something wrong, but she could deal with herself later. 

She just needed to get through tonight. 

Teddy was on top of her, kissing her, kissing her collarbone, unhooking her bra. Andromeda kissed back, her arms moved to the right places. 

She was a participant. She was fine. She was fine.

As Teddy kissed her breast, Andromeda thought vaguely of jumping from the Astronomy Tower. Her robes would billow as she fell. As long as she left her wand inside, that would be the end, right? 

She ran her fingers through Teddy’s hair. She was normal, she could do this. Andromeda moaned, a thing that was normal to do. 

Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself. A pleasant, comforting, familiar refrain in her head. 

Teddy kept touching her (waist - arms - hips - thighs - inner thighs), but Andromeda had nothing left to move. Was this even her body? 

Teddy reached under her skirt as Andromeda lay on the hard stone ground, staring at the beams on the ceiling. Whoever or whatever had been controlling her body had gotten tired. The carcass of her body lay still, waiting for it to be over. 

Teddy’s voice interrupted her grey non-existence. “You ok?” 

Words were beyond her. She wanted to say “I’m fine” and “Please stop, please stop, please stop,” but whoever had control of her body denied any speech at all. 

How did a person speak again? Brain to throat to mouth to tongue? It seemed foreign and impossible. 

“Andromeda, you ok?” 

Teddy seemed more concerned now. Teddy had moved so she was sitting next to Andromeda, not over her, no longer touching her. 

Andromeda couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. She wanted to tell Teddy that it was alright, she wasn’t angry at her, it wasn’t Teddy’s fault, this was just a disturbing and unexpected bodily function or maybe she had been cursed. It was the dirty, corrupted part of her taking over for a night. There might be something wrong with her, but there was nothing wrong with Teddy. She needed Teddy to know that she didn’t blame her. The blame for this failure was on Andromeda alone. 

Andromeda lay still for an indeterminate amount of time before she tried wiggling her toes. They wiggled. She tried moving her legs. They moved. She curled up in a ball and nestled next to Teddy and reached for her hand. Talking was still too much, but the hands entwined were comforting. Teddy’s hand was comforting. 

Teddy held her hand and did not speak. Andromeda could feel Teddy look at her, feel Teddy’s concern radiating off of her, but it was more than she could deal with at the moment. She lay still.

Eventually, it was unclear to Andromeda just how long it took, she found she could speak again. 

“You don’t have to be so nice to me,” she laughed weakly. “This is not that sort of thing,”

Teddy squeezed her hand and said nothing. 

They lay in silence together for a long time, Andromeda curled up and holding Teddy’s hand and Teddy sitting up against the wall. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Teddy asked, almost impossibly gently. 

She rubbed her thumb over Andromeda’s hand. Andromeda stared at the folds of the black fabric of Teddy’s robes. Each one could be its own midnight mountain. A whole village of miniature creatures could live on the peaks. Maybe they’d live nice, safe lives and be good with one another.

Teddy asked again, just as gently, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

No.

Yes.

Andromeda took a breath. 

“A year ago - almost exactly. Maybe that’s why I’m -” Andromeda paused. She didn’t know what to say about what she was. “Anyway, after the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match. I was very, very drunk, which was my own fault, of course.” 

Andromeda spoke in a slow, halting monotone. “Lucius, he - I don’t remember much. It doesn’t matter anyway. I came to in his bed with him on top of me.” 

Andromeda felt Teddy’s body still. 

“I just let it happen. I didn’t fight back at all. Then I must have fallen asleep again, because when I came to a second time, he was asleep next to me. I found Nabila Noor in the common room. She was leaving for an early morning flight of all things - the day after a match. It must have been obvious what had happened. The state of my hair and my clothes. She asked who, but I knew she was asking what could be done about it.” She sighed. “Lucius and nothing, of course.”

Andromeda was so tired. 

“We weren’t friends, but she was good to me. It didn’t seem like the first time she helped a girl in that position. Not sure how she had the bad luck to be in that situation more than once, but it may be more common than I thought.” 

Andromeda was finding herself again, finding her reserve of pureblood composure, the steel cage over her soft core. “And that’s that. Not pleasant, but common and survivable. It’s usually not this bad, obviously. I just ran into him, and it was almost exactly a year ago, so.” She sat up, straightened out her uniform skirt, and said curtly, “Sorry for making you listen to all that. And sorry for acting oddly tonight.” 

She withdrew her hand from Teddy’s and fixed her posture. She was a Black, and she would act like it. 

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Teddy said carefully. 

“Well, we had an arrangement. And this,” she gestured vaguely at her pathetic body (which was hers, her body that she had control of, a body he would never touch again), “was not part of it.” 

“We don’t ever have to have sex again, if you don’t want to.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want that,” she almost laughed. Leave it to Teddy to make her smile even now. 

They were dangerously close to talking about what they were doing together, what they were. It was hard to say it was “just sex” if they talked about unpleasant moments she hadn’t even told her sisters about, and they held hands, and they did not have sex. 

Andromeda started at the tower walls, eyes tracing around each stone. She was in the Astronomy Tower. She was with Teddy. She was safe. 

“What can I do to help?” Teddy asked, soft and kind. 

Fuck her and her kindness - making everything so much harder.

At least Teddy didn’t say something stupid like “I’m so sorry” or “That’s terrible, I can’t imagine.” Though that might have been better - at least Andromeda could have rolled her eyes. Instead she had to deal with this unbearable kindness, this intoxicating understanding. 

“Can you hold me?” Salazar, she was embarrassingly weak. “And tell me a nice story? About Quidditch?” She could imagine Bella’s disgusted reaction to this, Cissy’s more restrained but equally judgmental response. 

“Of course, come here.” 

Andromeda leaned into Teddy and let her strong arms wrap around her. She might be pathetic, but this was too nice to resist.  

“Thank you,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if Teddy heard it. 

Teddy launched into a story about the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor match their third year (six hours long, fairly lengthy for a Hogwarts match, plenty of story to tell). She let Teddy continue about Chaser strategy and dodging Bludgers and Hufflepuff teamwork. 

She needed this. She was held; she was safe; she was grateful. Teddy would never hurt her like that.

The safety and the kindness and the comfort though - that was a kind of danger. Even in the soft joy of the moment, she couldn’t escape the knowledge that this was worse than it had been with Lucius. That was a passing moment of fear and terror. This was so much bigger and more deadly. 

Andromeda was so fucked. 

Andromeda had never been so aware of an upcoming Quidditch match. She jumped when Graham sat next to her at breakfast on Friday. She turned and walked back the other way down a corridor when she saw Lucius walking with Antony Travers towards her. Normally, she would have been fine. Normally, she could pass him in a corridor and keep everything in, but in the days before the Slytherin-Ravenclaw her panic was a constant layer under her skin that threatened to burst through at any moment. 

She wasn’t sure whether this was a result of the timing or the fact that she had talked about it with Teddy instead of keeping the memory as well-buried as she could. As well-buried as she should. 

Finally, after nearly losing the ability to breathe when Yaxley bumped into her in the second floor corridor after lunch on Friday, she went to Madam Pomfrey’s for a Calming Drought. Normally, she would consider Calming Droughts to be solely the provision of pathetic, doddering old women and panicked O.W.L. exam takers, but she was desperate. 

She was not sure how she was going to survive the game and the common room after on Saturday without breaking down in public. Getting stupidly drunk was her backup survival option, but that did not ensure she would not cry in front of any of her classmates in the way that a Calming Drought would. 

She climbed the stairs to the Hospital Wing doing her best to maintain her composure. She walked quickly and purposefully, and she refused to bow her head even if she felt hollow, all ash inside. 

Andromeda walked through the double doors into the Hospital Wing.

“Madam Pomfrey?”

A woman with a round face and warm brown skin emerged from behind a white divider. She had her curly black hair in a tight bun and carried thick green leaves the size of dinner plates. Another one of Dumbledore’s recent muggleborn hires, she could not have been older than twenty-five. 

She set the leaves down and approached Andromeda. 

“Hello, Miss Black,” she said with a small, polite smile. “Professor Slughorn was just telling me that you are planning to pursue a career in Healing.”

“Yes, that’s correct.” Andromeda nodded politely in response, waiting for her opportunity to ask for something, anything to make the weekend bearable. 

“You must be here to volunteer for tomorrow.”

Andromeda’s mind went blank. 

“Pardon?” 

“You’re not the first N.E.W.T.-level student pursuing Healing who is interested in getting some practical training during their time at Hogwarts, and Slughorn strongly recommended you,” Madam Pomfrey explained. “Quidditch matches are the perfect opportunity since there is, despite my protestations about the barbarity of the game, a guarantee that many students will healing, all at the same time. Most injuries are easy jobs - breaks, sprains, bruises - perfect for a N.E.W.T.-level volunteer.”

Andromeda was now too distracted to be panicked. “You would allow me to volunteer here tomorrow?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “I would - I would love to.”

“You do know it will be grunt work - nothing fancy, of course. Mostly cleaning, organizing, observing, and, perhaps, basic healing spells and administration of potions and salves. Eventually. And, you won’t be able to watch the game from up here.” 

“Yes, of course. I’m happy to help and learn any way I can,” Andromeda said, her sheer delight too evident. “I don’t particularly want to watch the game anyway,” she added.  

“Come on, then. You can help organize the supplies that I’ll take to the field so we are well stocked for any immediate needs there as well.” 

Andromeda followed Madam Pomfrey further into the Hospital Wing, grateful to be thinking of something other than Lucius Malfoy. 

The following day, Andromeda tried to make herself useful to Madam Pomfrey and did her best to stay out of her way, which may have been the most useful thing she could do. She handed out a spicy-smelling bruise healing salve to a number of Ravenclaw players. 

She knew the Slytherins were too pig-headed to ever go to the Hospital Wing for anything as minor as a bruise, but she pocketed one small jar to give to Evan anyway. From what she had heard of the commentary, he had taken at least two major hits from Bludgers and would need some help. He was only a second year and only in this match because Travers was still injured from that Potions mishap, but Evan was stubborn enough that there was no chance he would seek out healing from the Hospital Wing., He was her cousin, however, and he would likely accept her help. 

Though - who knew? He was an angry and spiteful brat as often as Sirius but had little of Sirius’s charm to make up for it. 

No player from either team required overnight care. (“No one will require an overnight stay in the Hospital Wing after a single game - Quidditch is perfectly safe then!” Pomfrey said to Andromeda in a huff as they collected supplies in the back of the Hospital Wing.) 

Andromeda knew she should be glad that everyone was relatively healthy, but she was privately disappointed that there were no excuses to avoid her own common room. 

Andromeda stayed as late as she could justify to clean the Hospital Wing. After the third Scourgify, Madam Pomfrey suggested she might want to return to her dormitory. Andromeda knew when she was being dismissed, but she did not want to go back to the Slytherin grotto yet. Not that night. Listening to Madam Pomfrey rant about the useless violence of Quidditch and explain the principles of different diagnostic spells and then actually assisting with setting bones, healing sprains, and administering salves had been a welcome distraction from her own fractured memories of the previous year. 

She descended the various staircases to the Slytherin common room. Before she muttered the password to the wall, Andromeda took a deep breath. 

She would give Evan the salve and do a perfunctory check-in with him. She would then have Graham give her a bottle or grab what she could. She would say goodnight to Narcissa and give her her excuses before hiding away in bed, curtains drawn for the night. Her clear directions gave her courage and purpose. She took a second breath and entered. 

The common room was in slight disarray as the Quidditch players and older students gathered near the fire. Still looking rugged and powerful in their Quidditch uniforms, the players had tracked dirt all over the common room, which they would leave for the houselves to clean once all of the students had gone to bed. 

Evan sat with Lucius and Narcissa, hanging on to every word of Lucius’s. He had a nice black eye coming in, the skin on his right cheekbone was a lovely purple colour. She imagined he hadn’t let anyone heal it yet on purpose, attempting the affect of a dashing wanna-be Death Eater. 

Graham first then. She was not going to encounter Lucius sober. Not tonight of all nights. 

Andromeda navigated around a cluster of third years half-braving the celebration, laughing too loudly and drinking too heavily, to find Graham in a heated discussion with Bulstrode. 

“How was the Hospital Wing, junior nurse?” Graham asked when he saw her. He grinned widely. Andromeda took that to mean he was having a very financially successful night. 

She couldn’t help but smile slightly back at him, but she needed to get out of the common room as quickly as possible before she lost her ability to breathe again.

“Good,” Andromeda said. “You saved anything for me? I can pay you tomorrow - you know I’m good for it.”

“Of course,” he responded, but he watched her more carefully as he reached into his bag and pulled out a small bottle of firewhiskey. “You alright?”

“Always am,” Andromeda answered automatically. 

He tilted his head slightly at her response, his dark brown eyes narrowed. She could deal with his skepticism tomorrow or the next day or never. She took the bottle from him gratefully. 

She was ready to give up on checking in with Evan and Narcissa; she could not survive an interaction with Lucius, not that night, but, as she turned to sneak up the stairs to her dormitory, she heard Narcissa’s voice calling to her. 

“Andy!” Narcissa cried out again, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Join us!”

Andromeda glanced at Lucius. He wasn’t touching Narcissa, but he was still seated much too close to her for Andromeda to feel safe. She had no idea how to fix that without a scene. Narcissa was so much smarter than she was anyway. 

Andromeda just wanted to hide in her room, draw the curtains tight, drink her cheap firewhiskey, and not leave until the morning. 

“I’m so sorry - I’m exhausted from helping Madam Pomfrey out today.” She tossed the jar of salve to Evan who caught it with one hand. “For your bruises.” He nodded his thanks. “I think I’ll just go straight to bed.” 

“It’s so early, Andromeda,” Lucius said with a slow smile. “Stay.”

She was going to kill him. She was going to fucking kill him. He was on the couch with her sister. He should never be allowed in the same room as her. 

Except, of course, she was not going to do any such thing. She was exhausted. Her exhaustion was no longer a convenient lie; it was total. 

Andromeda must have said goodnight to her sister. She was pretty sure she made her excuses and said goodnight, but she couldn’t remember doing so when she got into her bed. She pulled the covers tightly around her, making herself a little cocoon with her head and her arms out so she could drink her burning firewhiskey from the bottle, and she regretted not slipping any Dreamless Sleep out of the Hospital Wing. 

Chapter Text

Somehow, their weekly meetings shifted after Andromeda told Teddy what Lucius did to her the previous year. Cautiously, Teddy started to share more about her family. Her sadness over her sister marrying some dull, bigoted man. Her father’s love and cleverness and unemployment and sadness. Her guilt over not being home to help her mother. Andromeda had never heard stories of Muggles where they had flaws and courage and beauty and love and imperfection, where they were almost fully human. Where they were human. 

Their interactions outside of the tower felt different too. Andromeda still found herself making an excuse to brush by Teddy in the corridors or take a book from her in the library, but it was no longer just an illicit thrill. There was something more. She didn’t hate Teddy. She wondered if she ever actually had. 

Andromeda knew she needed to be more careful, but eye contact across the Herbology bench or “accidentally” grabbing the same book in the library gave her something she couldn’t explain or justify.  No one, not even Narcissa, seemed to notice. 

The early April night in the Astronomy Tower was unexpectedly cold, but the pair cuddled under a Conjured blanket on their last night together before the Easter break. Andromeda’s shirt was halfway across the room, and she knew there must be hickeys on her neck and breasts, but she enjoyed the feeling of being so open. She was getting much too comfortable with Teddy, with vulnerability. 

“Are you going home for the Easter hols?” Andromeda asked.

“Nah - too short. I’m staying to study and train.” She paused to look at Andromeda and then looked away before continuing, “The Christmas holiday was… difficult.”

Andromeda let Teddy decide to continue or not. She knew better than to pry into anyone’s family business. 

“I’ve told you about my dad, yeah? How he’s so supportive of me being a witch and so clever and generous?” 

Andromeda nodded, and added, “And funny and loving?” 

She had no idea why she said that, but it was true. She was almost jealous. Muggle or not, he seemed like he genuinely cared about Teddy. 

Teddy continued, sounding tired. “He is all those things but - my dad drinks. I haven’t really talked about it with you, but his drinking has gotten worse.” She sighed. “Mum’s just trying to manage it, cover it up. She’s exhausted and frustrated, but she fixes his meals and helps him to bed when he can’t and bandages his injuries when he falls. It’s worse than it was this summer, and it’s just really hard to see. I don’t know what to do.” 

Andromeda considered replying, “My mother drinks like that, but we have a house-elf for the enabling part,” but she thought it might be too crass. She murmured an encouraging response instead. 

Teddy stared straight at the arched ceiling of the tower, tracing her eyes over the carved beams. “Christmas Day was the worst. He - well. My sister cried. I just wished I had my broom and could fly away.” 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Andromeda asked. 

“No, not really.”

“Alright.” Andromeda squeezed her hand. Wind rattled the Astronomy Tower windows. 

“I feel like I should be there - to help her. My sister was, but then she married that bloke in Manchester and moved. I got to King’s Cross in January just so relieved I didn’t have to be home again until May. Isn’t that terrible?” 

“No, not at all,” Andromeda replied honestly. “Family is - family is hard. I know. Just because you want to run away sometimes doesn’t mean you don’t love them. It doesn’t mean you’re not going to stay loyal”

“I honestly thought about dropping out of Hogwarts so I could be there for my parents.”

“What?” Andromeda exclaimed. “Don’t even think about that. Regress into the Muggle world to fix your parents?” Teddy stiffened, Andromeda’s cue that she had said something wrong. “I mean - just finish at Hogwarts. You can help out after you graduate, if you want.” 

“I know - Sprout was outraged at the suggestion. You want to hear something else terrible?”

“Always.”

“I want to tell my mum to stop doing everything for him. Just let him wake up in his vomit on the floor. Just let him find his way back from the pub. Just let him try to figure out how to feed himself. Just let him drink himself to death if he wants to.”

“And what do you want to tell your dad?” Andromeda asked slowly. 

Teddy’s breath caught. 

“Never mind - forget I asked.” 

“No - it’s alright.” But Teddy didn’t say anything further, and Andromeda didn’t press. They held each other and were still except the gentle circles Teddy’s fingertips traced on Andromeda’s shoulder. 

“My mother drinks like that too,” Andromeda said after a long silence. “But we have a house-elf to do all of the enabling. Father is just disgusted with her.”

Teddy let out half a laugh. “Even posh purebloods have their problems and secrets.”

Andromeda smiled and leaned into Teddy. “We have plenty just swirling beneath the surface. Dress robes and a bit of dark magic keeps it all disguised.” She paused and said more seriously, “Your family seems nice though. I’m sorry about your dad.” 

“Thanks,” Teddy whispered. She kissed Andromeda’s forehead. “I’m less worried about becoming my dad than becoming my mum, you know? Alcohol’s fine and all, but trying to fix people? Save people? That’s the real addicting stuff.” 

Andromeda laughed, grateful for the release of tension between them. 

“Luckily for you, then, I neither need saving nor fixing. You and your caretaking complex are safe with me.” 

Teddy raised an eyebrow. 

“I can take care of myself,” Andromeda added with a smile. 

With a swift, sure motion Teddy flipped over and pinned Andromeda to the ground, hands on her wrists and legs straddling her waist. 

“Really now?” 

Andromeda struggled to get her arms free without any particular vigor, and she never lost her smile. Magic was a great equalizer, but moments like these, with her wand on the ground, reminded her that the Quidditch captain was much stronger than she was. 

“And what if this was my devious plot this whole time?” Andromeda teased. 

Teddy leaned down for a kiss, and Andromeda raised her head to it, only for Teddy to draw back as soon as their lips brushed. Andromeda glared at her. 

“Nice plan,” Teddy said with a wink. Just as quickly as she had pinned her, Teddy stood up, stumbling in Andromeda’s loose robes on the ground. “I should go back to my dorm. Bones and I are going to have a quick fly before classes tomorrow morning.” 

Andromeda lay on the ground, breathing hard, at once furious and delighted. 

“I hate you, Tonks.” 

“I’ll see you after the break, then?” Teddy grinned wide as she grabbed her broom. Without another word, she clambered out the window with only a bit more grace than she had in January. Her toe caught the edge of the window, but she managed to right herself on her broom. 

Andromeda lay on the floor for another full minute trying to catch her breath. She balled her hands into fists and smacked the ground. 

That damn Hufflepuff! 

She was enjoying this way too much. She didn’t hate Teddy any more, if she ever had. Even the sense of impending doom, the knowledge that all the possible outcomes were terrible for everyone involved, was not going to stop her from grinning with joy and desire the entire walk down to the dungeons. Let people wonder why she was so happy returning from patrol.  

Since they were traveling to London for the Easter holiday, Andromeda, Sirius, Phillipe, and Evan took the Hogwarts train rather than Professor Slughorn’s Floo - despite his enthusiastic offer. Narcissa stayed to study for O.W.L.s, which took some fighting with their mother, but Narcissa won in the end, as Narcissa always did when it mattered to her. 

Andromeda, Phillipe, and Evan played Bezique with Philipe’s deck for the entire journey, while Sirius alternated between pacing up and down the train and staring out the window in a huff. His dark mood infected the whole train car, and Andromeda thought he was being exceedingly dramatic. He wasn’t the one getting engaged. 

Kreacher and Geenie waited for them at the train station to take the boys to Grimmauld Place and Andromeda to her parents’ London home. Letting Geenie take her home made her feel like a child when she was a few weeks out from her Apparition Test.

The boys were to travel from Grimmauld Place to a secret location for some men-only equinox ritual. She could tell Phillipe wanted her to ask him for the details so he could withhold them, but she ignored his invitations for questions and focused on the cards. 

Whatever the nature of this pretentiously confidential ritual, Phillipe approached it with glee, Evan with near manic excitement, and Sirius with dread. Even without any details, Andromeda felt confident that this was another one of Arcturus’s ego trips, but she would rather take part in a hyper-masculine egotistic ritual than spend four days with her mother leading up to a non-engagement engagement party. 

After days of alternating between hiding in her room studying for her exams and placating her mother, and after the return of the men (Sirius even more sullen than he was on the train), she had a dinner to perform for. 

The event wasn’t an engagement party; that would come later. It was an introduction with an assumption. Andromeda could refuse him, if she so chose. The Blacks were not medieval in their customs, just traditional with eyes watching the dissolving bloodlines of the other families. 

The engagement was less a traditional affair, however, than a desperately modern one. Two or three generations ago, she would have lived as a spinster with two sisters who would marry and two boy cousins to carry the name along into the next. She would have been the Healer Aunt, an old maid who was a tad odd, maybe a bit too liberal on the Muggle question, but in an acceptably normal and non-threatening way. A little spice for the family dinners. As it was now, she had an obligation to the existence of magic itself to reproduce.

Andromeda met Antonin Dolohov for the first time that evening. He was tall, and so she supposed they would have tall children. His Eastern European accent was soft but noticeable, and he was polite with her and her family. If Bellatrix said he was an exceptionally powerful wizard, then he must be. She certainly wasn’t going to test him on his magic. She wanted this over as quickly as possible. 

Thankfully, Bellatrix had arrived alongside Dolohov. She emerged from the Floo like a hurricane, loud and towering in heels and silk black dress robes. Her features were sharper, hungrier than they had been months earlier.  The change was nearly imperceptible, but Andromeda had been studying her sister’s face for any small change in mood or favor for the entirety of her life. 

Bellatrix was paler than she had been at Solstice too, and her grey eyes, so like Andromeda’s, were - Andromeda didn’t have the words for it. They were more. More powerful, more intoxicating, more dangerous. Her black hair spilled from a jeweled hair piece, and Andromeda couldn’t take her eyes off of her. Bellatrix had been playing with darker magics, she was sure of it. She radiated power with an edge of corruption, like an ancient goddess of vengeance. 

Bellatrix’s presence minimized the necessity of direct conversation between Andromeda and her likely husband, this Dolohov. With a deep ache in her chest, Andromeda missed Teddy, who would know what to say to make her laugh in any forced conversation. 

Teddy, who would never be anywhere near this situation. 

Teddy, who could never understand her family. 

Andromeda pushed thoughts of Teddy out of her head. That’s for another life. 

Dinner was an awkward affair. The men of the family (including, perhaps, Dolohov, though she never got any confirmation and she did not ask) had just returned from their little spring equinox ritual. Mother had refused to tell her exactly what happened at the ritual, if she even fully knew, but the boys-only nonsense left her and Aunt Walburga furious and taking it out on the house-elves. Geenie served dinner with bandaged ears. 

Interestingly, Sirius, who had attended the ritual for the first time, had refused to talk about it with her either. It was rare that he did not love something that his mother hated, and Andromeda wondered what wild bacchanal or faux-ancient ritual he had been forced to participate in. 

With the exception of tiny Regulus, everyone was drinking heavily, including Sirius, who seemed less tiny and more accepting of his legacy as heir, however reluctantly, by the day. He sat straight-backed in his chair and stayed blessedly quiet. Andromeda thought that the drinking may be partially her fault, but alcohol was a part of Black heritage, and perhaps thirteen was not so young after all.

To distract from the passive-aggressive sniping between his wife and sister-in-law, Uncle Orion, in his infinite wisdom, turned to the subject he knew they could all agree on: the Muggle problem. 

Drowning out Walburga’s complaints about the food, he boomed, “Did you see that opinion piece in today’s Prophet? Making Muggle Studies part of the required Hogwarts curriculum? Outrageous!” 

“It’s propaganda disguised as a class,” Phillipe responded, grateful for the subject change. “They’re trying to make Muggles seem like normal people, just with silly customs.” 

“I’m surprised that old bat Dumbledore hasn’t already mandated it,” her father added with a scoff. 

“It’s worse than that,” Evan piped up furiously with courage impressive for a thirteen-year-old Rosier at a Black family dinner. “The classes aren’t just to make Muggles seem normal but - I heard from Wilkes who heard from a Ravenclaw in the class - they actually say that wizarding traditions are dangerous and outdated - that we should follow the example of Muggles.” 

He glared at Sirius, who had the sense to continue looking at his plate. Sirius was too young for electives, and she hoped he had the sense to stay away from Muggle Studies. 

“They want to destroy our way of life,” Evan finished with his eyes still on Sirius. 

Bellatrix let out a bark of laughter, causing everyone to turn to her. “Don’t worry. Change is coming. And consequences for that kind of drivel are coming soon. By the end of the week, I expect.” 

She sipped her wine and smirked before adding slowly, “Words in the Prophet will never beat wands.” She set her glass down and flipped back the black mane of her hair, a feral aristocrat, untouchable and above them all. 

“The necessary change will never happen except by force,” Dolohov said firmly, his first words since he sat down at the table, his accent soft and his words clipped and careful. “Muggle-lovers have spent too much time infecting this country - the government, the papers, the schools.” 

Andromeda needed to know that he would be comfortable, or at least would tolerate, her speaking against him in public. Normally, she would consider this an opportunity to flag another glass from Geenie, but this may be her sole opportunity to test her soon-to-be-husband on one of the few things that mattered. 

She chose her words carefully. “You may be right, but I’m not quite sure.” Dolohov smiled playfully back at her, a good sign. “If the place that Muggles hold beneath us is natural, then getting them to understand that place needn’t be violent. They should be happier to submit to us.  Instead, we’re, constantly worrying about that Statue of Secrecy and submitting to them. Putting everything and everyone in the proper place should not require violence, just thoughtful planning and reorganization.” 

Dolohov looked at her appraisingly. “And what of those born of Muggles, seeking a place in our world?” 

He was not bad looking, a little severe, nose a little large, eyes dark and piercing. She hoped the Black family looks would win out in their children, but one could never be sure. He was acceptable.

“Muggleborns?” Andromeda replied. “There is a place for them as well. Many do have genuine magical talent, you must admit it, and, as long as they understand their place in the world, that talent can be put to good use in service to our society. Not all have a house-elf, but a muggleborn witch with a repertoire of cleaning charms could serve half-blood and lesser pureblood witches and wizards. Everyone can have their place - no need for violence or death.” 

Bellatrix tossed her head back and let out another bark of laughter, but Andromeda kept her eyes on Dolohov, who responded, almost teasingly, “And that is why your courageous sister is the family warrior, and you will be the Healer.” 

Dolohov had passed her test, the only one she allowed herself. She could be a Healer and a woman who disagreed with him in public. Bellatrix would be on her side if he ever reneged on that. It was the best arrangement she could hope for. She tried to feel happy for her good fortune, but the feeling did not come. She reached for her wine glass instead.

Unbidden, unwelcome, her mind turned to Teddy. 

Teddy had no power, no money but - Teddy could end up with some girl purely for love. Teddy could have a happy life. That thought alone made Andromeda smile as she poked at the food in front of her. Teddy didn’t have a duty, Teddy didn’t understand family, her family at least, and Andromeda would never see her after Hogwarts, but Teddy would be happy, and that was enough. Teddy could be happy for the both of them. 

Distracted by Dolohov and thoughts of Teddy, Andromeda barely noticed Sirius opening his mouth to speak or the quick flurry of movement from Aunt Walburga. Sirius opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He glared at his mother. Clearly, Walburga was in no mood to take chances with her son tonight. 

“Yes, some of us have a more realistic idea about what needs to be done to solve the muggleborn problem,” Bellatrix said. “It relies on a little more than convincing them of their rightful place with some nice words.” She looked to Andromeda lovingly. “But you will be a great Healer and mother even if you lack a tactician's brain.” 

“More like the cleansing of the Muggle filth?” Evan said eagerly. He leaned over the table, looking at Bellatrix with adoration. 

The Death Eaters had killed over a dozen Muggle pedophiles in Britain in the past year, among other scum. Andromeda didn’t believe in killing Muggles (or anyone, for that matter) but even she was in support of their efforts. 

Bellatrix smiled at her cousin. “Protecting Muggle children from their own is a public service we can all agree on. Well, all except the Ministry and Dumbledore’s cabal, of course. But all sane witches and wizards can see why we can’t just let Muggles govern themselves.” She swirled the wine in her glass. “Though we have much grander plans than that.” 

“We cannot let the moral depravity of Muggles infect wizarding society,” Phillipe said, repeating the earlier conversation so he could ensure he said something agreeable and intelligent. “That’s why Muggle Studies isn’t just a silly waste of time or an easy elective for students. It’s genuinely dangerous to our very way of life.” 

“Hear, hear!” her father called out and raised a glass to his nephew. 

“The muggleborns want to make us feel guilty for our power, our traditions, our very magic itself!” Druella cried out in an unexpected fit of passion. 

“And people are falling for it!” Walburga said, agreeing with Druella for the first time all evening. “You know what I heard about Augusta Longbottom last week?”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Bellatrix spoke over the parents with a dangerous smile. The queen of the table, completely at ease. “Our Lord has a plan. Consequences are coming. To the muggleborns and blood traitors both.”

Her statement was so final, so authoritative that the whole table went silent for a moment - until Uncle Orion started back on the subject of the dreadful world these days and the courage of the younger generation taking action for their families and traditions. He droned on about how, if he were a younger wizard, he would be right there with them, and small plates of chocolate torte began floating towards the table offering further distraction. 

Andromeda felt sick. 

She trusted her sister, totally, completely, and she knew Bellatrix always had her heart in the right place, but Bella did not always have a good sense of where to draw the line. Andromeda hoped the war would be over soon. 

She would protect Teddy if it came to it. But Teddy wasn’t stupid enough to be one of those muggleborns who did nothing but complain despite everything the wizarding world gave them. Teddy should be alright. And if she weren’t, Andromeda would make sure of it. 

She couldn’t think of Teddy here. 

Every thought made Andromeda feel deep unease in her gut - whether because of the betrayal of her family or the anti-muggleborn sentiment that felt newly personal - and she did her best to mute her thoughts and the conversation and focus solely on the wine and on Bellatrix’s hair and her gleaming smile. 

Andromeda fucking hated politics. 

Andromeda and Dolohov stood by the fireplace as he gathered his coat to Floo away. (Floo home? To the Dark Lord? Bellatrix had left already. Presumably he would follow.) Without Bellatrix as an intermediary, they slipped into awkward formalism. 

To make matters worse, Walburga did not even wait until her family returned to Grimmauld Place to punish Sirius. Whether that said more about her impatience or her entitlement to her brother’s house as the mother of the heir, Andromeda did not know, but she and Dolohov stood together in the foyer with Walburga’s muffled shouts echoing down the corridor and no sound at all heard from Sirius. 

Andromeda held tight to the bouquet of peonies, phlox, and orange blossoms in her right hand, as was custom. The smell was too sweet and cloying. 

“From what Bellatrix has told me, I think you will be an excellent Healer, Miss Black,” he said, all bluster from the dinner table gone. “Forgive my comments earlier this evening. It will take all kinds to bring honour to our world again. Not all of us must be warriors.” 

“No forgiveness is needed, Mister Dolohov,” she replied demurely. “But I must say goodnight, for now. I think my cousin may require some healing.”

“I look forward to our engagement this June. Goodnight, Miss Black.” He bowed and kissed her hand before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and stepping into the emerald flames. As soon as he disappeared, Andromeda tossed the flowers onto a table for Geenie to deal with and went to find Sirius. 

“I didn’t even say anything at dinner! I had barely even opened my mouth when she cursed me!” Sirius sat at the vanity in her bedroom with his shirt off. Andromeda summoned her dittany. 

“I think it was pretty clear to her that you were going to say something, and I think she reasonably determined that it would be best if you didn’t say anything at all given the topic and the importance of the dinner to the family, to me.” 

Gryffindors and their stubborn desire to say anything they wanted with no consequences.

Andromeda stood behind him and twisted open the jar of dittany paste. Pig fat for better spread and coverage of wounds and mint for reducing scarring and helping with the smell. 

“Well, it didn’t seem like you cared much about the dinner anyway.” 

“Don’t presume.” With slightly more empathy, Andromeda continued, “Though I think it was less about dinner than about the equinox.”

“Oh.” Sirius’s shoulders slumped. He started fiddling with her brushes and hand mirror and avoided her gaze. 

“She loves you, you know. She does this because she loves you. She’s so afraid of losing you to Gryffindor, to manhood, to the world outside her dominion, and it drives her mad.” 

“She’s got a way of showing it. Ow!” he exclaimed as she pressed the paste into a particularly sensitive cut. “Other people have mothers who don’t do this. James’ mum never hexes him and-” 

“James’ mum is not raising the heir to the House of Black. You are not James Potter.” 

“Of course I know that.” Sirius tried to push her hand away. Andromeda ignored him and continued rubbing the dittany. 

“Just make sure she knows she will never lose you. Ever.”

“And what do you know about this? Since when did you become so wise about mothers? I don’t see you and Aunt Druella-”

Andromeda cut him off before she could hear what he might say about her relationship with her own mother. She had not drunk enough for that conversation. 

“Not about mothers. It’s Aunt Walburga and Bella who are alike.” 

And you too, she wanted to add. 

Brilliant and charismatic but moody, possessive, and violent. Sirius was a child, but she could see the well-trodden path of great and dangerous Blacks he could follow. It felt cruel to put that expectation on him - though the thought of him being ordinary or middling and a good son and a good man seemed almost laughable. 

She continued, “Look, Sirius, I’m not blaming you, and I know you are inclined to follow the Potters on blood politics, but, if you could lay low, we all might be better off.” 

“Has Bella ever ripped your back apart at a family dinner?” He gazed back at Andromeda via the mirror, his grey eyes flashing and sharp chin raised. 

Bellatrix was almost never violent with her because Andromeda almost never gave her reason to be. And she had never hexed her like this, but her periods of cold indifference were much worse than the one time she pushed her down the stairs in retaliation for some perceived slight Andromeda cannot remember. It was so long ago. 

“No, she has not,” Andromeda admitted. Sirius smiled smugly, and Andromeda would not stoop so low as to argue with the petulant child further. 

Andromeda finished rubbing the dittany on his back. She motioned for him to turn around and offered him his white dress shirt, still stained with blood. 

“No wonder Mother prefers her children wear black to family events,” Sirius said darkly. 

“Kreacher will get it out. Here, I want you to have the rest of this.” Andromeda screwed the lid of the jar of dittany on and handed it to him. “Just so you are prepared if there’s another incident like this one in the future. If it’s your back again, ask Regulus to rub it in for you. The cuts will heal overnight and shouldn’t scar at all.” 

Andromeda handed him the jar and wished she had a better solution. She wanted to say, “Please don’t provoke her any more,” but that would hardly go over well with this little boy, so like Bella. 

“Thanks,” Sirius muttered with as little gratitude as a person could muster. 

“I think your parents already Floo’d home with Regulus. You can stay here tonight if you want. I can have Geenie make up the guest bedroom for you.”

“No, I’ll go home tonight.” He began putting his dress robes back on, wincing slightly as it snagged on the rapidly healing cuts on his back. 

“Good night, Sirius.” 

“Good night, Ands.” 

Sirius walked out, shoulders back, his easy grace returning as if nothing at all had happened. Andromeda knew it was a performance, it had to be, but she was jealous all the same. 

That night, as she attempted to sleep, she could not shake the disgust and shame threatening to overwhelm her. She stared up at the canopy above her bed and debated asking Geenie to bring her a drink, knowing it would help, but she knew it was something her mother would do, and so she just let herself lay in bed instead, miserable - but not her mother. 

Rose Granger-Weasley’s Thesis: notes on Ishtar

Ishtar

• Spring equinox ritual

• Men only

• Fertility/prosperity?? 

• Pureblood women didn’t like it - gender equity?? Sex-related???

• AT mentioned something about a hare????

• Secrecy charms??

• Out of favour by 90s - DM doesn’t know about it (or so he says)
• ????????

[cannot get a single coherent piece of information on this!! Did it even exist??]

[ask Perkins if it’s worth trying to track down more information or just cut this section entirely]

Chapter Text

Their first Wednesday night back in the tower was cool and clear with a slight chill in the air, and Teddy arrived with pink cheeks, but spring was decidedly here at Hogwarts. Andromeda felt an overwhelming sense of relief and pushed any thoughts of the holiday and the engagement and that man out of her mind. 

Here, she was happy, and she and Teddy were very, very happy. 

They lay tangled up in each other, as tightly wound as could be comfortable. Andromeda wanted all of her to be touching Teddy and settled for what physically could. 

“How was your holiday?” Teddy asked, breaking the gentle silence between them. 

“Fine,” said Andromeda, and Teddy didn’t push further. “How was Hogwarts without me?” 

“Much duller and less beautiful,” Teddy said as she cupped Andromeda’s chin in her hand. 

Andromeda laughed. It felt so good to have air in her lungs. 

“Someone taught you to flirt properly in my absence?”

“I think I’ve done a very good job of it so far.” Teddy smirked. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Andromeda laughed and kissed her. 

Interacting with Dolohov was in an entirely different universe than interacting with Teddy. The Andromeda with him was an entirely different person too, and Teddy did not need to know about that other Andromeda. Teddy did not need to know about any Andromeda who existed outside of the realm of the Astronomy Tower, but Teddy’s desire to know her, to know all of her, was flattering. Intoxicating, even. 

“So how does the pureblood lot celebrate Easter?” Teddy asked. “Jesus our Lord has risen and all that?”

“We don’t,” Andromeda scoffed. 

“Why is there an Easter break at Hogwarts then? That doesn’t make much sense.”

“You and my father agree on one thing, then. It was only a few centuries ago that the Muggle Christian cultists were burning us at the stake. I mean, it did nothing at all to the witches who were burned, but still. The principle.”

Andromeda felt inexplicably anxious and resisted the urge to pull away from Teddy. 

She continued, “And the Hogwarts insistence that the spring holiday is the Easter holiday and our winter holiday is Christmas is another one of those reforms that my family hates. That happened around the seventeenth century or so, but the Blacks are good at holding grudges.” Andromeda held onto Teddy’s hand to ground herself. “Christmas, which, of course, the Christians stole from us - or borrowed. Your book is a lot younger than the sun and the changing of the seasons.”

“What do you all celebrate, then?”

“We celebrate the solstices and the equinoxes - the old ways. Or, it’s the reimagining of the old ways. It’s a little hard to tell what’s actually old and what’s just pureblood bullshit.” Andromeda was surprising herself with her honesty. Again. Her honesty was becoming a weekly occurrence. Put it on the calendar. 

Teddy laughed, and her laugh made the whole conversation worth it. Andromeda was tired of her family - she could admit that. She was giving them so much. She could spin some light blasphemy with a muggleborn if she wanted to. It didn’t make her less of a good daughter if she didn’t let it change her actions in the outside world. 

“The ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’ is just a recent invention, you know, only a few decades old, and some of the lines have already died out. Rather embarrassing for the writer.”

“Any delightfully bizarre rituals?” Teddy asked. “Our Catholics eat crackers and drink wine and say they’re eating and drinking the son of God.”

Andromeda laughed at that. 

“You should see the winter solstice ritual,” Andromeda said, shaking her head. “So much blood and fire and chanting in Latin and carving of runes in fire. Supposedly, it’s about giving thanks to the land and the Old Gods for bestowing upon the Black family our power and position. But it’s just something that Arcturus made up, apparently. Maybe it has some real history. But it’s mostly just to let him be at the center, shoring up his own power as he shores up the power of the family.”  She looked up at the carved rafters. “But whatever fantasy justifies our legacy seats on the Wizengamot is the one we’ll spin.”

She turned to look at Teddy, and the pair made eye contact and let out a relieved giggle. It felt so wildly inappropriate to be in on a joke about purebloods together with a muggleborn - more illicit than the sex. 

“Wizards!” Teddy mocked. “I’m glad to hear that there are real, secret magic blood rituals. It validates what my sister says. According to her, I’m a double heretic - a homosexual and a witch. Doubly doomed to hell for eternity for all my sin.” 

“You? The sweetest of the Hufflepuffs? Doomed to hell?” Andromeda laughed. “Muggles are absurd.” 

Andromeda shifted again so that she was on top of Teddy. Her bare knees on the rough stone floor hurt, but it felt so good to be in her body at this moment. She kissed Teddy and pulled back with a small giggle. Teddy looked at her lovingly - almost. Andromeda returned her gaze with an uncomfortable feeling in her chest.

Andromeda was getting way too comfortable with the muggleborn. 

“Oh, I should actually go - I promised I’d help Narcissa revise Charms tonight after I finished with patrols.” 

They stood, Andromeda offering Teddy a hand to pull her back up. As they buttoned their shirts (Andromeda re-buttoning Teddy’s after she had missed one on her first go) and straightened out their robes, they kept making eye contact and blushing furiously as if they hadn’t been doing this for months. But something had changed. 

“One last kiss before I go?” Andromeda asked teasingly. 

Teddy kissed her, and it made Andromeda’s toes curl with delight and desire. They stood kissing in the tower, lost in their own world for a blissful moment until Andromeda found her self-control and hurried down the stairs. 

She thought she heard Teddy come down for one more kiss, but when she turned to look, there was no one there. It was only her footsteps echoing around her. 

Andromeda shouldn’t let herself get used to this. She couldn’t let herself get used to this. She was too happy. When they fell apart, she would at least console herself that she knew it was coming. 

Andromeda had considered telling Teddy about Dolohov and the engagement and all of it, but Teddy didn’t need to hear it from her. It would have just been too painful. She couldn’t imagine finding the words. If all Slytherin was gossiping about the news and Sirius had been at the dinner, the update on her marriage status should have made its way to Hufflepuff too. 

Everyone in Slytherin wanted to hear all about her official, unofficial engagement. Clytemnestra Smith had practically cornered her wanting to know the details of this man from Minsk, and even Phillipe was curious - even if he pretended otherwise. She pushed all inquisitors onto Narcissa as best she could, even though Narcissa had never actually met him, but she could not do that with Graham, much as she wanted to. 

Friday night, Andromeda and Graham tucked themselves into their favorite study nook in the common room. They were surrounded by books and scraps of parchment, which they were ignoring in favour of the bottle of firewhiskey. Andromeda and Graham had genuinely been studying earlier - genuinely - but it was a Friday night, and they deserved a break. 

“So tell me about this suitor of yours, Black,” Graham said with a smile Andromeda did not trust.

She sighed. “There’s not much to say. But I am officially unofficially engaged.”

“And he’s a Death Eater from Minsk.” Graham’s tone was carefully neutral. 

“If you know as much about him as I do, why are you asking?” 

Andromeda was so tired of talking about Dolohov. She just wanted to forget it and at least somewhat enjoy her last few terms at Hogwarts before she got herself married off to some colleague of her sister’s. She didn’t dislike Dolohov. She just wanted to drown herself in the lake every time she thought of him. 

“You’re going to be a Death Eater’s wife then.”

“I suppose. Allegedly.”  

Andromeda took another sip of firewhiskey for something to do. 

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind asking him to spare my dad, that would be great.”

“Graham.” Andromeda didn’t bother to hide her frustration. She passed the bottle to Graham who took his own swig before responding, his practiced neutrality slipping. 

“What? Too dark?”

“They’re not killing wizards. Just Muggles,” Andromeda said as if she believed it.

“Tell him not to kill my grandparents then.” 

“Graham!” 

Gods, Andromeda was so tired of blood politics. Just when things with Teddy were going so well, Graham decided to be a pro-Muggle activist. 

“My grandparents are Muggles.” 

“I know that, and they’re not killing just any Muggles - just murderers and child molesters. Unless your grandparents are hiding some very dark secrets, they’ll be fine.” 

Her attempt at a joke fell flat, and Graham just rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. He took another swig before passing the bottle back to Andromeda. 

“You cannot seriously believe that.”

“Believe what?”

“That the only Muggles they’re targeting are serial killers and pedophiles and, well, you don’t think it’s a little too convenient?” 

“Why would they kill innocent Muggles? They’re just trying to show that wizards can govern Muggles better than the Muggles can.” 

“I don’t think that they consider any Muggles innocent. Or human.” Bitterness leaked into his voice. The firewhiskey was definitely affecting him. He usually wasn’t like this with anyone, let alone Andromeda Black. 

“And how do you know? My sister-”

“I’m a halfblood in Slytherin, and I pay attention,” Graham interrupted. “You can ignore this war - quietly marry one of them and ignore their actions.” He grabbed the bottle back from Andromeda. “Not all of us are able to do that.” 

“Graham-” 

“Fucking hell, don’t try.” He waved his wand, and his books and parchment flew haphazardly into his bag.  

She must have been a little drunk too, because the next words out of her mouth were pathetic even to her own ears. 

“If there’s anything, anything at all I can do to help you and your family stay safe, I promise I’ll do it, but I promise it’s not going to be like that.” 

Graham cocked his head at that and smiled wryly. 

“Remember what you told me second year? When Everett Greengrass was being particularly awful and I was thinking that maybe I should have just stayed in the Muggle world? That I shouldn’t come back after the Christmas holidays?” 

They hadn’t been friends then (were they friends now?), but she was charmed by him and his drive, and he was the only one in their year who could compete with her academically. She had been shocked and horrified that he, a promising wizard, a halfblood with Greengrass ancestry of all things, was doubting his place. He had always seemed so confident, self-assured. Like he never even heard the things the Greengrass boy said about him. 

“I told you that you had more magical talent than all those pureblood boys put together, and that was what mattered. I told you that you were smart.” Andromeda smiled at the memory, at her bravado at thirteen. “I told you that you were even smarter than I was on occasion.” 

“You did.” A ghost of a smile flicked across Graham’s face. “And I’m smart enough not to believe you about the Death Eaters now.” 

He rose to leave, ever so slightly unsteady on his feet, and took the bottle with him.

“Graham? Seriously?” 

“Goodnight, Black.” 

Andromeda let out a huff and put her head in her hands. She would apologize to Graham tomorrow or maybe he would apologize to her. He wouldn’t have said those things if he had been sober. She knew Graham was a halfblood and one who had been raised Muggle, and, as far as she knew, he was the only person raised fully Muggle currently in Slytherin. It made him sensitive to this kind of thing. She would never tell Graham about Teddy, but she thought they might have some fun passing notes about her pureblood nonsense. 

A sudden vision struck Andromeda. Teddy and Graham and her all laughing together, unmarried, happy, after graduation. Meeting up for drinks at the Leaky after St. Mungo’s and the Ministry and Teddy’s absurd and darling project of protecting magical children. 

Fuck, maybe she was drunk. 

As the weather grew warmer, attention turned fully to exams. For the first time in her life, Andromeda thought Narcissa looked almost flustered as she prepped for her O.W.L.s. Her long, blonde hair was still pristine but more often than not pulled into a loose bun, and she had the hint of bags under her eyes. Andromeda and Graham - who had not brought up their fight again, much to Andromeda’s relief - were no longer alone in studying late into the night in the common room. They were joined by fifth and seventh years who carried an air of anxiety wherever they went. Even Lucius, whose Ministry position was hardly contingent on N.E.W.T. scores, was constantly in the library. 

Graham was kept busy selling potions for enhanced concentration and memory in small vials the size of a thumb and Muggle pills for supplemented energy and focus wrapped in folded bits of parchment. Even purebloods were willing to risk Muggle inventions if the stakes were high enough. 

On the last Wednesday in April, the weekend after the Apparition exams, Teddy did not show for the first time. Andromeda waited for an hour reviewing Potions notes and frequently glanced out the south windows until she finally gave up and returned all the way back down to the Slytherin Dormitory. 

She was embarrassed to admit she was a little upset and concerned. A little.

Could Teddy have been caught trying to sneak out? Seen on her broom as she flew by a professor’s window? Got caught up in studying and missed the time? Fell asleep after a hard Quidditch practice? 

It was inevitable that she wouldn’t be able to make it to the Tower every Wednesday night, right? 

The most logical explanations were all benign, and Teddy would likely only lose some house points for being out of bed after hours. Andromeda could construct the lie herself: “Oh professor, I was just so stressed about exams, and I needed to go for a night fly. I know, it was foolish, and I won’t do it again.” With Teddy’s dimpled smile and easy charm, she should be alright no matter which professor caught her. 

The absence of eye contact during breakfast the next morning was more concerning. Not a wink, not a smile. Andromeda tried to approach her after Transfiguration let out, but Teddy was wrapped up in a conversation with Edgar Bones and refused to look at her. Or maybe just didn’t notice her. 

Andromeda was not upset. She was not concerned. It was of little consequence, but what the hell had happened in the past few days? Andromeda wracked her brain trying to think of anything that would have set Teddy off like this. Did she say something wrong last Wednesday? The night had been lovely. Teddy had said she was so unbelievably happy. It felt real. What had she done to ruin their, their what-ever-it-was, their not-a-thing?

She had been embarrassed about her awareness of Teddy’s schedule (who could possibly have use for knowledge of the timing of Hufflepuff Quidditch practices?), but it proved useful now. 

Salazar’s ghost, Teddy was going to talk to her, and Andromeda was going to apologize for whatever she had done to Teddy. She was becoming well-practiced in apologies - though it had been weeks since they fought about the muggleborn disappearances. And, after the dinner with Bellatrix and Dolohov (and her tiff with Graham), she worried Teddy had been right about that too. 

Andromeda walked all the way across the grounds to the Quidditch pitch, ignoring clusters of students taking advantage of the spring afternoon to study outside. She stood by the locker rooms and waited. 

She had hoped to catch Teddy at least somewhat on her own, but the entire Hufflepuff team exited the locker room together. The Quidditch players were muddy and laughing and one boy was playfully hitting another with the tail of his broom, but they all fell silent when they saw her, the Slytherin prefect, the Black daughter, waiting. The smell of sweat and Quidditch leather was notable. 

“Teddy, Professor Sprout sent me with a message for you,” Andromeda said with each syllable crisp and precise. Andromeda stood with her back straight, her chin high, and her gaze narrowly focused on Teddy. 

“Oh, really? What is the message?” Teddy said as she tossed her broom over her shoulder. 

“It’s private,” Andromeda responded with a matching attempt at neutrality for their audience of Hufflepuffs, all of whom were halfbloods or muggleborns with the exception of Edgar Bones. “I need to speak with you alone.” She tried to catch Teddy’s eye, but Teddy looked just past her towards the castle. 

“Why did Sprout send you? You’re not even in our house,” asked a girl to Teddy’s right. Straight black hair in a long braid down her back, deep brown skin, and surprisingly suspicious eyes for a Hufflepuff: Viveka Chetty, a half-blood. Her mother was a Shafiq; her father a muggle. A more than minor scandal there. 

Andromeda mustered up every drop of Black arrogance and power and stared Viveka down. 

“I do not presume to know. Maybe because I am a prefect and in her N.E.W.T. class, and she trusts me, and I was nearby when she needed a messenger. If you have concerns about how your Head of House conducts herself, I suggest you share them with her.” 

Andromeda was getting annoyed now. Her chest hurt. 

Just talk to me, please, Teddy. 

She tried to keep her eyes soft while her demeanor stayed hard. She looked to Teddy for reassurance, but Teddy’s expression was impassive. 

“Alright, let’s hear it then.” Teddy finally met her gaze before turning to her teammates. “I’ll catch up with you at dinner.” Teddy beckoned her teammates to walk back to the castle. 

When Andromeda felt confident the others were out of earshot, she said, “You’ve been avoiding me.” The words shot out. She hadn’t planned on starting that way.

“Yes,” Teddy said curtly - a tone so unnatural for her that Andromeda paused before responding. 

“Why?”

Sighing, Teddy took her broom off her shoulder and responded bitterly, “Well, I try to avoid girls who are engaged to blood supremacist terrorists.  Not to mention girls who think I should be allowed to keep my wand only as long as I don’t think to rise too far above my station. Though I suppose a quick, secret fuck is a fine station for a muggleborn like me.” 

“Where did you hear that!?” Andromeda’s voice was high and uncontrolled, and the air left her chest. “Only family - did Cissy, no, Sirius,” Andromeda sputtered, trying to keep herself under control. All thoughts of an apology were replaced with fury towards Sirius. 

How dare he get involved. That little hypocrite. 

Teddy ignored her outburst and continued in the same bitter tone, “Does it matter where I heard it? Were you even going to tell me you were engaged?”

“It’s complicated. I’ve told you, my family is complicated.” Andromeda looked at Teddy while Teddy stared back unmoved. “Please,” Andromeda whispered. 

“It’s ‘complicated,’” Teddy mocked. She rubbed a hand through her hair, the dirt and sweat making it stand up. Andromeda wanted to fix it; she wanted to fix all of this.

Teddy huffed. “When this started, I thought this was just for fun. I thought it was a fun challenge, a muggleborn bedding a Black - a Black! - in a castle full of pureblood men you don’t give the time of day. I was playing you just as much as you were playing me, and that’s what made it alright.”

“I know,” Andromeda replied softly. 

“It changed - I don’t know when. It stopped being a lark, a challenge, a point of pride. I know we said it was just for fun, but, Christ, Andromeda, I started to really care about you.” She shook her head and bit her lip in frustration. “My mistake was thinking it changed for you too.”

“It did change. For me.”

“Not enough, apparently,” Teddy said derisively, and Andromeda said nothing. A flock of birds flew up from one of the trees at the edge of the forest. 

“And your plan for us was what?” Teddy asked. “A regretful Hogwarts hookup before moving onto your respectable pureblood life? Have me as your lover on the side while you pop out pureblood heirs?” 

“No - of course not. He’d kill you. Or Bella would kill you. Or both.” Words kept spilling out, but it felt like the truth, and she felt like she owed Teddy that much.

“How comforting. Am I in danger now?”

“No - he and I aren’t even formally engaged yet, and, as a Hogwarts student, you’re under Dumbledore’s protection. They wouldn’t dare.” She took a half step closer to Teddy. Andromeda was certain that Teddy was safe for now. She wouldn’t have let this situation escalate this way if she had any doubts. “Please - we could still have a whole year together.” 

Teddy took a half step back and put her broom in front of her. “Please what? Please risk your life to be the little mudblood on the side?” 

“Don’t say that, Teddy.”

“What? Mudblood? ” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. She paused and looked at Andromeda with disgust and confusion. “I really thought you were different. Do you even think I deserve my wand?” 

“Of course I do! It’s just my family-”

“Of course. Your family,” Teddy interrupted. “So 'complicated,'” she mocked again.

“Yes!” Andromeda lost her practiced composure. “You don’t understand. It matters that I’m there at the dinners and holidays to say the liberal position - that muggleborns deserve a place at Hogwarts. That wizarding society is better with them, you, in it. I have to express it in ways they can hear. You have no idea how deep anti-muggleborn sentiment runs.”

“I’ve been a muggleborn student at Hogwarts for six years. I’m pretty sure I do, Black.” She spat Andromeda’s surname. 

Andromeda took a deep breath. “My great-uncle tried getting a bill passed that would have legalized hunting Muggles for sport. Many in my family still support it! My father advocates for Hogwarts to refuse entry to muggleborn students - or at least cap the number of muggleborns allowed to be admitted. The majority of my family agrees. That’s what I’m arguing with. I have family members who are-” Andromeda cut herself off before she said anything too dangerous. There was a war. 

“And is it even worth dignifying those positions with an argument?” Teddy had lost her bitterness, and she just seemed sad. 

“They’re my family. My other option is to numb myself with liquor every moment I’m around them until I feel nothing and my soul’s too wine-soaked to care.”

“Or you could leave.” Teddy said.

Andromeda smiled wistfully. “If only.” 

“If only,” Teddy replied.

They stood silently for a moment. The sun was beginning to set beyond the mountains in the west. 

“You must have known who I was, what I was, who my family were, when you got involved with me, when you felt things changing between us. I warned you.” Andromeda repeated, “I warned you.” 

“I guess I did know, and I made too many excuses for you,” Teddy said. “I started to think you were your own person, different from your family.”

Andromeda couldn’t look at her as she replied, “I’m not.” 

It was the truth. She wasn’t different, not in any way that mattered. 

“This is my fault for being too naive.” Teddy looked past Andromeda towards the castle. 

Finally, they made eye contact, hazel to grey, the moment too fragile. The wrong words, the wrong glance would break it. Andromeda wanted to make Teddy see her. She refused to lose Teddy like this, a misunderstanding, an inevitability. 

“Is there still space for us?” Andromeda asked haltingly. “Here at Hogwarts? Even if we know it can’t last? We could have a whole year. A whole year together.” 

Andromeda stepped closer as an invitation. 

Please, she silently begged, so uncomfortable in her vulnerability. 

Teddy took her in and held her with strong, gentle arms. She smelled of sweat and Quidditch leather.

After a pause, Teddy said quietly, “I don’t hate myself enough to do that.”

She kissed Andromeda’s forehead and pulled away before tossing her broom over her shoulder. She followed her teammates back to the castle, leaving Andromeda staring out at the forest alone. 

Andromeda watched the sun set behind the mountains in the distance, casting the sky into a beautiful bruise. She wondered what would happen if she just began walking in the forest and never returned. 

For the rest of the evening and throughout classes the following morning, Andromeda thought of little else beyond confronting Sirius. Her rage was a shield and a propelling force carrying her through classes and meals. In Potions, she added too much arrowroot to her wound-cleaning potion, causing it to almost bubble over and dissolve Graham’s robes. Graham caught it just in time to save the potion from spilling out but not quickly enough to avoid Slughorn’s notice. Andromeda thought Slughorn would chalk it up to nerves as exam season crept in. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong. 

She was furious at Sirius. 

She was not sad about Teddy. 

The hurt, the deep ache in her chest, resulted from her cousin’s betrayal, not the end of her tryst with the muggleborn, which never really mattered to her at all. 

The Friday afternoon was beautiful, with clear blue skies and a gentle, warm breeze. The perfect spring weather merely increased her fury. As she expected, her cousin along with the rest of his little friends were lazing about by the lake. She walked quickly and purposefully, like a lioness on the hunt for the Gryffindor. 

That little arrogant hypocrite deserved what was coming to him. 

The four boys sat by the edge of the lake, pulling up grass and tossing pebbles into the water, piled up over each other like puppies in a litter. Sirius lay stretched out, basking in the sun, robe off and shirt half unbuttoned and long black hair up in a messy bun. With his high cheekbones, delicate chin, and long eyelashes, he looked so much like Bellatrix it hurt. James Potter, a pureblood from a line of blood traitors, struck a similar pose, deep brown skin glowing and thick black hair disheveled, skinny and awkward but utterly confident as he tried and failed to skip a rock across the lake. The blonde Pettigrew boy, another pureblood - though there was a muggleborn ancestor in this line recently, she was sure of it - laughed at James’ failure before making an equally poor attempt. The fourth boy, the scarred, skinniest one smiled and laughed in turn. 

Andromeda put on her most demanding Noble and Most Ancient House of Black voice. “Cousin, I need to speak with you. Alone.” 

The four boys jumped slightly in surprise at the interloper breaking into their idyllic lakeside Friday afternoon. The Pettigrew boy and the boy with the scars scrambled to their feet. James Potter (that arrogant berk - no wonder he and Sirius were the best of friends) just stared at her, dark eyes blazing.

“Anything you want to say to Sirius, you can say in front of us,” James said with his narrow chin raised high. 

Sirius smiled, slow and sure without taking his grey eyes off Andromeda. “It’s fine, James. I’ll catch up with you in a bit. My dear cousin and I do need to chat.” 

His friends walked further around the lake before finding a new spot to toss pebbles and watch them from afar. Potter kept craning his head around to keep an eye on her and almost fell into the lake while doing so. 

Until she was sure they were out of earshot, she stood over Sirius silently and radiated fury. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at her with an amused smile, ever the little child aristocrat, a princeling waiting for a report from a court advisor. He survived (was surviving) Aunt Walburga; he wasn’t going to be intimidated by his sixth year cousin. 

“How dare you get involved with my affairs,” she hissed. “You had no right.” 

“She had a right to know you were engaged,” Sirius said defiantly. “She had a right to know how you speak about people like her when she’s not around.” 

“And do you tell your friends everything that you do with our family?” Andromeda asked with her cruelest smile. “You shared full details of whatever spring equinox ritual you participated in with James Potter and your other little friends? My father was so proud of how you behaved - I’m sure Potter would be too. Shall I tell him what I know and see if he can fill in the gaps?” 

Sirius had the decency to stop smiling at that. She had struck a nerve. Good. 

In a more careful tone, Andromeda continued, “You don’t understand - she could be in danger if people find out.”

“And now she knows. And she knows you’re engaged and knows - knows how you are at family events.”

“It was not your story to tell!” 

She had been itching for a fight, and part of her was glad Sirius was giving her one. 

“She has a right to know,” Sirius insisted. Just like Bellatrix, Sirius would never back down. His grey eyes flashed as he continued, “We saw her standing in the Astronomy Tower after you left. Just grinning and watching you walk away.”

“We!?” Andromeda exclaimed. “Who else knows, Sirius?” 

“Just James. We haven’t even told Remus and Peter. James and I were hidden, and we saw you two in the tower together. I told him about the engagement and everything.” 

Andromeda’s rage melted slightly. She understood now. 

Sirius had to show James he wasn’t like his family, so that James wouldn’t realize that he was doing the exact same thing she was - trying to maintain relationships with family and with those at Hogwarts who could never understand what it meant to be a Black. In that moment, he picked his relationship with James. She was family. She was never going to leave him, but James might if he understood it all.  

(Or, a darker thought occurred to her later: it would hurt Sirius less to lose James than it would to lose her.) 

A rush of sympathy swept over her for the child who had to be the Black heir and a loyal Gryffindor friend. He could put off making a choice for years yet. He was so young. 

She sat down next to Sirius and stretched her legs out in front of her. The rocky patch on the shore was not particularly comfortable, but she didn’t care. With her left hand, Andromeda carelessly tossed pebbles into the lake. With her anger gone, all she could feel was exhaustion. 

“I had thought you were different - not like everyone else in the family,” Sirius said. 

“I -” Andromeda almost insisted that she was, she was different. She and Sirius were the odd cousins with their naive beliefs about leaving Muggles alone and letting muggleborns into Hogwarts. But she wasn’t different. She was going to marry a man approved by her parents and live a life approved by them. She might offer a mildly contrary position at a dinner, but Teddy was right - what difference could that make in a war?

“I’m not different.”

She wanted to sink into the lake, be covered up by lichen and seaweed. She wanted to go to sleep for a very long time. She did not want to be a person. 

“It wasn’t going to last anyway,” Andromeda added softly.

Sirius joined her in slowly lobbing pebbles into the dark water, staring out at the ripples they made, the little explosions of impact. 

Plunk, plunk. 

“She’s safer now that it’s over,” she continued. 

Plunk, plunk. 

“She deserves more than what I could give her.”

Plunk, plunk.

Andromeda’s arguments rang true but hollow. She missed Teddy and her smile and her kindness and her love for Quidditch and her stubborn optimism and strong arms and gentleness. She couldn’t believe that this was the end of whatever it was that they had. It was over. 

She could feel a wave of emotion coming over her. She was not going to cry in front of her baby cousin. 

Breathe. Calm yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius offered, soft and kind and unexpectedly genuine. 

A family could make a woman stay with potions and curses and the soft cage that are her children, but they couldn’t force the heir to stay. He could leave, maybe, and Regulus would be the heir, if he didn't fracture under the burden too. 

If she stayed at the lake any longer, she would start to cry, and she was not going to let Sirius see her cry. Andromeda stood up slowly. She tossed one last stone with a weak flick of her wrist into the lake before charming the dirt off of her robes. 

“Stay safe, Sirius.” A request, not a threat. 

“You’re not going to tell James anything, right?” Sirius asked. She wondered what exactly he did over the Easter holiday and she did not envy him at all. 

“Of course not.”

“Stay safe, Ands.” 

Andromeda kept her composure long enough to make it to the Slytherin common room. Safe, small, contained. Safe for now. 

Narcissa sat studying in a large green armchair next to the main lake window. Two books were open on the table in front of her and a third hovered a few feet above. She sat with her legs gently crossed and her eyes darted between the books like she was trying to read all three at once. 

“Cissy.” 

Narcissa glanced up at her, and the hovering book slowly returned to the table. At the sight of her sister, tears started threatening to come once again. 

Keep it together, Black. Breathe. 

In what seemed like one fluid motion, Narcissa stacked her books with a flick of her wand, stood up, took Andromeda’s hand and began leading her to the fifth year girls’ dormitory. The books followed, floating at a safe distance. 

Narcissa led her to her bed and closed the curtains. 

Andromeda was crying now. Tears ran down her cheeks. Narcissa was the only person she had cried in front of since she was six.

Narcissa held her gently, soft hands stroking her back. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Narcissa asked, her tone neutral, undemanding, and full of love. 

Andromeda almost laughed. She shook her head. What could she even say? 

“Well, Cissy, I’ve been meeting up with a muggleborn girl, yes, a girl, yes, a muggleborn, in the Astronomy Tower, and it was just sex until it wasn’t, and then she learned I’m engaged and thinks I’m a bigot, which she may be right about, and she ended things because she, quote, ‘doesn’t hate herself enough to be with me.’ Now I’m so sad it feels as though I never could be happy again, and there is not a single soul I can talk to about it.”

Luckily, Narcissa was comfortable with silence and ambiguity. The only sister with a talent for Occlumency. Andromeda knew her sister would not pry. Bella was the sister to go to if you wanted revenge. Cissy was the sister for quiet comfort. Andromeda wondered what she was the sister for - blind devotion? Healing spells? Whatever was needed? 

Narcissa sat up on her comforter, against the pillows stacked three deep against the headboard, and Andromeda put her head in her sister’s lap. Narcissa closed the curtains. They didn’t say anything more. 

Narcissa summoned one of the books she had been reading and had it hover over the bed. The pages turned on their own, and she used her hands to braid and unbraid Andromeda’s long brown hair over and over until Andromeda’s tears stopped. 

Finally, Andromeda asked, “What are you revising for?”

“History of Magic - seventeenth century Goblin Wars. The exam’s next Monday.” 

Andromeda turned her head so she was looking up at Narcissa. “With the Hogwarts curriculum, you’d think wizards have done nothing but stamp out goblin rebellions for the past two millennia.”

“We have had to do it quite a lot.” 

“True. Was the seventeenth century one the one with Ulric the Ugly or Ufric the Ulcerated?” 

“Ulric the Ugly.”

“You’re going to do superbly,” Andromeda said with a smile. “You know wizarding history better than everyone in your class, I’m sure.” 

“True, but I wasn’t exactly going to practice transfiguration with your head in my lap,” Narcissa said lightly as she undid all of the braids and ran her hands over Andromeda’s scalp. 

Andromeda sat up. “Sorry. And did I make you miss dinner too?”  She felt terrible. How long had it been?

“That’s not a problem. All the students my year are so anxious that being around them in the Great Hall kills any desire I have to eat.” Narcissa straightened her back and snapped her fingers in one smooth, authoritative motion. “Ogtree!” 

A house-elf in a tea towel appeared with a crack and bowed low. “Mistress Black,” he said with a squeaky voice. “How may I be of service tonight?” 

“Bring my sister and me two plates of food, please. We missed dinner.”

Ogtree bowed low again. “Of course, Mistress Black.” 

He disappeared with another crack. 

Andromeda looked at her sister in amazement and gratitude. “How do you know that house-elf?”

Narcissa smiled conspiratorially. “I have my ways.” 

Ogtree appeared again, balancing four plates of food, one on each arm, one in his hands, and one on his head. “Two plates of food for you, Mistress Black, and two plates of food for your sister.”

“Thank you, Ogtree, that will be all for tonight.” After Ogtree disappeared back to the kitchens, she turned to Andromeda. “House-elves! No sense at all. Four plates of food, honestly.”

“Thank you.” 

“Of course, Ands.” 

Both sisters sat cross-legged on the bed facing each other. Andromeda forced herself to eat a potato, slowly chewing, trying to be a normal person. 

Her mother’s words echoed in her head. Love is for Muggles and fools. Family is real, and family is forever. She would always have Narcissa. She would always have Bellatrix. She might always have Sirius, despite it all. She was a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. She would survive this small heartbreak with a muggleborn who could never understand what family means, who could never understand her. She would not make this mistake again. 

After the first war, not the second when she lost everything, but the first when she thought she had lost Sirius, Andromeda knew in her bones that Sirius must have felt this way too.

Chapter Text

After her one evening of weakness with Narcissa, Andromeda poured herself back into schoolwork and prefect duties. She spent all Saturday in the southern corner of the library, alone with the shelves of books on experimental potions, until Narcissa found her and dragged her to dinner. By Sunday afternoon, she ran out of her own schoolwork to do and helped Graham revise for Arithmancy in the common room.  

For the rest of the week, if she ran out of essays to write or runes to review, she helped Narcissa prepare for her O.W.L.s and even went as far as letting Narcissa practice charms on her all Monday evening. If she didn’t have a mental moment free from Potions theory or Transfiguration practice or Old Germanic runes, she would not have any room to think about Hufflepuff Quidditch players. She picked up Narcissa’s patrol shifts so her sister had more time to revise. She did not cry again. 

On Monday morning at breakfast, for something to do other than stare at the Hufflepuff table, she wrote a letter to Bellatrix. Bella never revealed much about what she was up to in writing, but writing her gave Andromeda another task. 

Dear Bella,

It was lovely to see you at the equinox. I hope you are still doing well, and I hope all your endeavours are successful. 

How is Dolohov? Have you and he been kept busy with your new projects? Please tell him I wish him well and look forward to our formal engagement this June. 

Hogwarts is as it always is. Cissy is quite stressed about her O.W.L.s. Might you send her a word of encouragement? I know she would appreciate that. 

With love and devotion, 

Andromeda 

In Herbology on Tuesday, she focused intently on the black stem and white flowers of the young Molyque plant in front of her as she trimmed two of the less productive branches. There may have been two Hufflepuffs laughing about something to her right, but she refused to look up. If she didn’t acknowledge their existence, then they might not be real. 

By Wednesday morning, she was starting to break. In the third floor corridor on her way to Charms, she almost approached the sandy blonde Ravenclaw fourth year to try to offer an apology before realizing her mistake. By Wednesday afternoon, she knew she was going to go to the Astronomy Tower that night. 

She made her usual excuse to Timothy Bulstrode about studying and made her way to the Astronomy Tower with a bottle of wine hidden in the sleeve of her robe. If she was going to be so pathetic as to wallow in the tower by herself, she was not going to be sober for it. The bottle was for an end of exams celebration, but this was more urgent. 

Her footsteps echoed up the stairs. The room at the top seemed too big and the empty floor too barren without Teddy. 

She conjured a wine glass - not particularly well. The proportions were all off. The stem was too long and the cup was too round for white wine, but it would do. She drank and identified family stars in the clear night sky. Absent the pathetic waiting for a muggleborn lover, nothing could be a more Black activity than this. Drinking and stargazing. No one could fault her for that. 

She opened the windows to better see the sky on the cool spring evening. She looked north, towards the mountains beyond the forest, and saw hers low on the horizon. Just to the right was her father’s constellation, Cygnus the swan. Swans were beautiful, vain, and vicious. Close enough. 

She walked to the other side of the tower. Her steps were still too loud, and the room was still too big. As she leaned out the window, clutching her glass, to the south, saw the old patriarch, Arcturus, dominating the sky in Boӧtes. To Arcturus’ right was Uncle Alphard in the neck of the Watersnake. To Alphard’s right would be - 

A dark shape moving through the sky. 

A person on a broom. 

Her breath caught. 

Yes. 

Relief and joy coursed through her, and she stepped back from the window to let Teddy in, leaving her cup and bottle on the floor.  

Teddy clambered through the open window as awkward as she had been the first week in January and tossed her broom to the ground. Flushed cheeks and short dirty blonde hair sticking every which way. She was beautiful. 

“Teddy, you came!” Andromeda rushed forward and grabbed Teddy’s hands. “We can have a whole year. I missed you.” 

The words poured out of her, quick and breathless. So thrilled, so happy so quickly that she had no time to hide her feelings. Andromeda was just so happy that Teddy was there. Teddy came. Teddy came, despite it all. Andromeda hadn’t realized how much she needed Teddy until the moment she returned to her. 

“Stop talking,” Teddy said, her voice harsh. 

Andromeda stopped and let go of Teddy’s hands. She couldn’t tell if the disgust in Teddy’s eyes was directed at her - or at Teddy herself. 

“It turns out I do hate myself enough to do this.”

Andromeda was not sure what she had expected, but it was not that. 

Teddy pushed Andromeda to the wall and used her forearm to pin her against the stone. She kissed Andromeda roughly. Andromeda felt herself submit to the kiss, to the push. Teddy ran her hands over Andromeda’s body, tight at the waist, under her robes, under her shirt. Andromeda grabbed at Teddy’s collar and kissed her back just as roughly, biting her lip. 

If this was the only way she could have Teddy, she would take it. 

With one arm still pinning Andromeda to the wall, Teddy reached under her skirt and grabbed her upper thigh. Andromeda gasped. Teddy ran her thumb gently over the outside of Andromeda’s underwear, and Andromeda gasped again. 

With the arm that had been pinning Andromeda, Teddy grabbed Andromeda’s hair tight near the scalp and pulled her head away. 

“Is this alright?” Teddy whispered in her ear, desperation creeping in. 

“Yes,” Andromeda breathed out. “Yes.” 

Was this what she deserved? The pain and the roughness felt cleansing. She had used Teddy, and she could be used in exchange. 

Andromeda pushed Teddy and flipped around so that she was the one pinning Teddy to the wall. Teddy laughed and let her. Andromeda kissed Teddy’s face, throat. She bit Teddy’s neck. She was going to leave a mark. Proof of her existence, however rotten and secret. 

After a moment of letting Andromeda pretend to hold her down, Teddy grabbed her with both arms and pushed her into the wall, face first. The rough stone of the wall scratched at Andromeda’s face, and, as she half-struggled to get away, she remembered just how much stronger Teddy was than she. 

Teddy held her down and reached her hand under Andromeda’s uniform skirt again, lightly brushing her fingers against her underwear. 

“Is this alright?” Teddy asked again. 

“Yes!” Andromeda cried out half in pain and half in pleasure. She arched her back to help Teddy’s access. 

Teddy fucked her and didn’t say another word to her for the rest of the evening. 

After Teddy, without looking back at Andromeda, climbed out the south window, Andromeda sat for a long time on the floor trying to decide if she felt better or worse for having come to the tower that night. 

She put her hands to her face. Her cheeks were wet. She was crying. Maybe worse, then. 

She hated the war, she hated her family, and she hated herself. But she’d keep coming back to the Astronomy Tower as long as Teddy did. 

For days after, Andromeda was still confused. 

What the hell was Teddy playing at? What the hell were they doing? 

She tried to focus on schoolwork, but Teddy’s disgust haunted her. Was she disgusted at Andromeda? Herself? Both? Wasn’t this what they both wanted all along - simple, uncomplicated sex? 

But even Andromeda, with all her skill at boxing up feelings, tying them up with neat ribbons, and constructing realities to survive, could not make herself believe that.  She did her best to avoid Teddy and spent as much time in the relative safety of the Slytherin common room. 

On Friday at breakfast, Cicero returned with Bellatrix’s unexpected reply. Andromeda forked a sausage and offered it to the owl. He snatched the sausage and nipped approvingly when she scratched his head. 

Andromeda,

Dolohov is doing well, as am I. You should see the spells we witches and wizards can do together - with the right motivation and training (none of that Hogwarts nonsense), we are capable of so much. You two will be quite the pair. Your children will be extraordinary witches and wizards in their own right! Blood and breeding make all the difference, and we can rebuild our world. Our mutual endeavour is going very well. Many have woken up to the importance of our cause, and our numbers continue to grow. 

Be careful at Hogwarts - and with the blood traitors who run it. The perversions of Muggles and the cabal of blood traitors are not to be underestimated. Please stay safe. 

Tell Cissy good luck for me and remind her that O.W.L.s are of little consequence compared to what really matters. 

Will talk more at the engagement -

Bella 

Andromeda stuck the letter into her pocket. 

What exactly was going well? Who was being recruited? Did Bella want her involved? 

Obviously, she knew to be careful of Dumbledore, but it wasn’t as though she ever interacted with him. What did Bella want from her? She trusted Bellatrix. She did not trust this Dark Lord. 

Andromeda tried to avoid thinking of Bellatrix and Teddy at the same time. Keeping them segregated in her head was the only way she could imagine surviving, but they were both becoming too loud. She couldn’t think of either of them or the war or the Dark Lord or Teddy’s Muggle parents or Graham’s Muggle grandparents - or any of it. 

She walked from the Great Hall to Transfiguration, still lost in thought and lost in trying not to think. 

“What’s with you today?” Narcissa asked. “I cannot possibly believe you are that invested in today’s match.” 

Andromeda had just caught the sight of Teddy in her Quidditch uniform laughing with her teammates from across the Great Hall and dropped her coffee cup, spilling coffee everywhere. The Slytherin Quidditch players to her right to jump and stare at her.  

“Scourgify,” Andromeda said, tapping her wand on the table and ignoring the stares. “Oh - just anxious about exams, and it’s coming out here.” 

Narcissa stared at her with one perfect eyebrow raised. Her long blonde hair was pulled back with a green ribbon - her house pride. Let others paint their faces or wear ugly scarves. 

“You’ve been behaving oddly all term.” Narcissa appraised her, and Andromeda hoped she wouldn’t be found lacking. 

“Well, I’m engaged, sort of. It’s bizarre. Hogwarts and everything - it’s almost over. This’ll be my last summer as a free woman. ” 

Narcissa smiled. No teeth, all charm. “There’s no need to be so dramatic about it. Your last summer in Nice before you’re married.” She teased out the last word as if it were delightful and tucked a strand of Andromeda’s hair behind her ear. “But you’ll still come even after you’re Andromeda Dolohov, of course.” 

That name was a mouthful. Andromeda hadn’t even considered it. 

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “If Dolohov tries to keep me from Nice in the summers, I’ll leave him.” 

“Better put it in the contract.” Narcissa laughed and put on a faux-authoritarian voice. “If the bride-to-be is not permitted at least one full month’s residence in the French Riviera each summer, she reserves the right to leave and/or murder her husband with the potion of her choosing.” 

Andromeda laughed. 

“Though it won’t be him keeping me from Nice - I trust he’s fully under Bellatrix’s control if not mine. I’ll barely have any time off once I start at St. Mungo’s.” 

“But that’s ages away!”

“The fall after next. Your seventh year. Unless they reject me for failing my N.E.W.T.s and then I can just laze about in Nice forever.”

Narcissa grabbed her hand. “They won’t reject you. Father would have a fit - he would have the heads of the entire board. Plus, you’re brilliant.” Narcissa released her hand and turned to her toast. “Lucius is going to be on the St. Mungo’s board, you know, once he graduates this spring. The youngest member ever.” There was a soft note of pride in her voice. 

Andromeda’s stomach sank. She glanced down the table to see Lucius and Antony Travers deep in conversation. Andromeda tried to focus on the cup in front of her. She didn’t want to drop it again, but her hands might have been shaking. She couldn't be sure. 

“Cissy-”

“Oh, don’t start about Lucius. I thought you had gotten over that.” 

“Just -”

“Just be careful. Yes, obviously.” 

Andromeda sighed. She had no more argument to make - especially at a crowded breakfast table. 

“I should get to the Hospital Wing,” Andromeda said as she rose from the table. “Pomfrey wants help sorting supplies before the match starts.”

“See? Helping out the Hospital Wing already. You’ll be accepted to St. Mungo’s. You don’t have anything to worry about.” 

A lie, but Andromeda held onto it as she walked out of the Great Hall. She did not look at Lucius. She did not look at Teddy. 

Andromeda was glad she could spend the Hufflepuff/Slytherin match in the Hospital Wing, so that she did not have to watch the muggleborn who was ruining her life play Quidditch. She had not anticipated how loud and yet cruelly inconsistent the commentary would be and how she would strain to hear Teddy’s name. Something about the nature of the wind ensured there would be long stretches of silence punctuated with the occasional torturous announcement.  

She tried to concentrate on chopping up the mugwort, a solid, all-purpose healing ingredient. Useful. Real. She cut up a whole root before the next wisp of commentary made its way into the tower. 

“Osterling sends another -  Tonks who dodges it with a full barrel row, Quaffle still in hand!” 

Andromeda slammed her knife down. She was going to find a way to destroy his life if Osterling kept sending Bludgers at Teddy. There were six other Hufflepuff players he could attack instead! 

The roar of the crowd in the stadium echoed faintly. Someone scored, but she couldn’t catch the team. She hoped it was Hufflepuff. She hoped it was Teddy. As quickly as those traitorous thoughts came, she tamped them back down. 

She brushed her pieces of mugwort into a crisply labeled glass jar and tried to remind herself who she was. 

“Rosier with the Quaffle - Slytherin goal!” 

Andromeda felt a rush of pride towards her cousin. She wasn’t rooting for Hufflepuff, by any means. She merely wanted Teddy to be safe from Bludgers and happy with the outcome. And if that required Hufflepuff to win, well. That was different from rooting for Hufflepuff, and her joy at Evan’s goal proved that. She was no House traitor - even if Quidditch hardly mattered. 

She chopped and prepped and measured and counted with Pomfrey as they waited for the match to end. The wind had shifted, and so they didn’t hear the final outcome. Andromeda was confident that Hufflepuff had won. Slytherin’s Quidditch team had been struggling since Nabila Noor had graduated. They needed a proper Seeker, and they were no match for Hufflepuff without one.

When Teddy arrived in the Hospital Wing with Roy MacMillan’s arm over her shoulders, Andromeda straightened with a start. MacMillan had a deep bruise forming on the side of his face, pale freckled skin giving away to blue-purple, and was holding his arm awkwardly. Teddy looked a little rough but better off than her teammate. 

Maybe Andromeda would not have to murder Craig Osterling after all. 

Before Andromeda could say a word, Pomfrey directed MacMillan to sit down on a bed and asked Andromeda to run a diagnostic on Teddy - for practice.  

Andromeda took a breath. She could do that. 

After crossing the room together, as far as possible from Pomfrey and MacMillan, Andromeda drew a curtain around her and Teddy. 

Teddy stood by the cot, grinning widely, still in her post-match glow, still thrilled with victory. She wasn’t smiling at Andromeda. And there wasn’t a desperate longing in Andromeda’s gut for Teddy to be smiling at her. 

Andromeda was here assisting Madam Pomfrey, and Teddy was a patient. It was very clear how they would behave with each other. Walls and rules and etiquette were stronger than nonsense affairs in towers with muggleborns who made her cry. 

“I just came so MacMillan would - he’s the one who really needs healing,” Teddy said. “You saw his face, Jesus.” She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Andromeda smiled weakly at Teddy. “You think he might just be here to get you to get healed?”

Teddy started to laugh but grimaced immediately. She put her hand to her ribs gingerly. 

“Yes, likely some bruised ribs then.” Andromeda nodded. “Can you sit on the cot? I need to do a diagnostic charm to be sure.”

Teddy sat back on the hospital cot like she was doing Andromeda a favor and not receiving needed medical care. She had learned her lesson about laughing, and she grinned up at Andromeda instead. 

“Now don’t do anything stupid like moving - Teddy!” Teddy was grimacing and holding onto her chest again. 

“I just wanted to see if MacMillan was alright!”

“He’s in Promfrey’s care. He is perfectly alright. You’re the one here with the unqualified trainee and dangerous Slytherin.”

“You’re not dangerous.” Teddy smirked. 

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Stop talking - I need to concentrate. This is still a new charm for me.” 

“Well?”

“I said stop talking! I’m trying to concentrate!” 

Andromeda reminded herself that Teddy was only acting like this, friendly and warm and borderline flirtatious, because she was in a post-Quidditch high. They were not on friendly terms at the moment. They were on… hate-sex terms. Or something. 

She waved her wand over Teddy’s torso. The magic was so unlike running the diagnostic with Bellatrix last summer, trying to identify a curse in a panic. There was no curse here - just simple injury from a simple cause and completely within her power to heal. She couldn’t imagine if Teddy were hit with a curse she couldn’t heal. 

“Bruised ribs on your left side, as I expected, general bruising associated with broom riding on your legs, and your right shoulder is very much not how it is supposed to be.”

“Oh, it always acts up after games.”

“Teddy!” 

“I just always ice it afterwards.”

“Teddy, this is a magic school. We have better treatments than ice.” 

“I didn’t want to be a bother. It hasn’t stopped me playing.”

Did fucking Quidditch players have any sense of self-preservation at all or did Bludgers just knock it out of them during their very first game? 

Andromeda was now thoroughly on Madam Pomfrey’s side when it came to the value of the sport. 

“Let me heal your ribs first, and then let’s deal with your shoulder, and we can see if we can find something a little more useful than ice.” 

Andromeda muttered the basic healing charms and considered poking Teddy in the ribs with her wand for good measure. 

She left Teddy on the cot to find Pomfrey, who, as she expected, had something more effective than frozen water for dealing with that type of overuse injury. Pomfrey handed her a salve and commiseration about stubborn Quidditch players. Andromeda held tight to her mentor’s validation - the most reassurance she had received so far in the Hospital Wing. 

Andromeda walked back to Teddy’s cot and shut the curtain behind her. 

“Take off your jersey.”

Teddy smiled cheekily up at her, and Andromeda added immediately, “And don’t make a joke about it. I need to rub this onto your shoulder. Pomfrey says you should do it after every game and practice. Well, she says you should rest it, but assumes that you won’t and the next best is using this.”

Teddy tried to take her Quidditch jumper off and immediately winced. She caught Andromeda’s eye.

“It just gets stiff!” she said, defensively. “It’s really not that bad.” 

“Salazar, Teddy, I’m going to heal this. Then I’m going to kill you unless you start taking care of yourself.” 

Teddy grinned back. “Amazing bedside manner, Black. Healer training seems to be going really well for you.”

Andromeda ignored her comment and helped take off her jumper, trying to minimize the obvious discomfort Teddy experienced while raising her right arm. Teddy sat in her white tank top on the clean white cot and stared expectantly up at Andromeda. Without the diagnostic charm or Teddy’s hisses with raising it, her shoulder appeared fine. It was slightly more developed than her left. Like nearly all Chasers and Keepers, she favored her right for throwing.

From behind the curtain, MacMillan hissed in pain. Andromeda jumped, and Teddy chuckled and shook her head at her. 

“You think I’m paranoid?” Andromeda asked as she started rubbing the salve on Teddy’s shoulder. 

Her proximity to Teddy made it hard to breathe, but she could ignore it. She didn’t need to breathe anyway.  

“I know you’re right to be cautious,” Teddy answered softly, leaning in closer. 

Silently, Andromeda attempted to imbue the salve with additional healing magic through her fingers as she rubbed Teddy’s shoulder. The nonverbal magic was rather well beyond any training she had received, but she wanted to try. 

The moment felt too fragile for anything other than her magic and her intentions. They were so close. 

“I missed you,” Teddy whispered in her ear.

“I missed you too,” Andromeda whispered back. 

Teddy’s left hand found Andromeda’s. Andromeda felt so conscious that they were not alone in the Hospital Wing, that someone could see them, could notice them, but she held Teddy’s hand anyway as she continued rubbing in the salve with her other. There was no need to continue administering it, but she was afraid that if she stopped the moment would be over, and she was not ready. 

“Will I see you on Wednesday?” Teddy asked softly. 

Andromeda heard Madam Pomfrey giving instructions to MacMillan for further treatment of his injuries. He would come looking for Teddy momentarily. 

“I’ll be there as long as you’ll have me,” Andromeda whispered back into Teddy’s ear as she squeezed Teddy’s hand. “I’ll be there.” 

The unsaid statements hung heavy in the air. Andromeda knew they needed to talk about the things she couldn’t even think about, let alone articulate to anyone, to a muggleborn, to a muggleborn she cares about. The only thing that scared her more than talking with Teddy was losing Teddy. Andromeda knew she was a coward, and she was tired of the endless courage that being with Teddy required of her, but she planned to keep trying anyway. 

Teddy left with her Keeper, off to celebrate the victory with the other badgers in their den. Andromeda stayed in the Hospital Wing as late as she could, cleaning and organizing. She was not interested in returning to her own dormitory that night. 

“You do have real talent,” Pomfrey said, putting in little effort to hide the hint of surprise in her voice as the pair documented the potions used that day. “And you work without complaint.” 

Andromeda was taken aback, but she was nothing if not well-bred. 

“Thank you,” she replied. 

“Hmm.” Pomfrey didn’t look up from her documentation. “It’s been a pleasant surprise. Horace suggested it would be advantageous for me to do you a favor by allowing you to assist me in the Hospital Wing on occasion - your family being what it is, my family being what it is, and the world being what it is.” Pomfrey’s voice was steely.

“I’m sorry - I didn’t know,” Andromeda said. 

“That my mother’s Jamaican or that I’m a muggleborn?” Pomfrey’s hands didn’t slow as she continued writing, and she did not look up. 

“No - that Professor Slughorn had -” Andromeda started but thought better of it. 

She wanted one thing in her life not completely defined by her family name, but what she wanted mattered little. 

“Thank you, again, for giving me this opportunity,” Andromeda said in the detached voice she so often used at home. “I hope I can continue to be useful here.” 

“Hmm.” 

Andromeda sat awkwardly. There was nothing left to do in the Hospital Wing, but Pomfrey hadn’t dismissed her, and she did not want to leave. She was embarrassed by how much she wanted the school nurse’s approval, but she did not know what to say or do to get it. 

After an agonizing moment, Pomfrey dismissed her, and Andromeda descended down all the sets of stairs until she reached her common room, where a rather muted party was taking place. Andromeda offered basic healing charms before she got very drunk and was again able to smile when required. She hoped Teddy was happy with her Hufflepuffs, and she wondered if Teddy was thinking of her as much as she was thinking of Teddy.

Chapter Text

As Andromeda expected, their next meeting in the tower began awkwardly. She arrived first and told herself not to expect Teddy, told herself that Teddy may not show, but Teddy arrived, clambering through the window.

“Hey, ‘Dromeda,” Teddy said with none of the harsh confidence of their last meeting in the Astronomy Tower or the brash banter of their previous encounter in the Hospital Wing. She looked down and then through her lashes at Andromeda. 

“Hey Teddy,” Andromeda said quietly. 

They stood on opposite sides of the room. 

Should she move closer? Did Teddy hate her? What in Merlin’s bloody name were they doing anyway? 

“How was the match?” Andromeda asked after a minute, holding onto Quidditch like a liferaft. “Are you all still practicing now that the season is over?” 

“Quidditch is - look, we really need to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Andromeda did her best to keep her voice neutral. Let’s not talk about what we are or why we were fighting or what this could be. When it came down to it, she was still a coward. She wanted Teddy, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle everything that entailed. 

“Us,” Teddy said curtly. “Your politics. Your family.” 

“There’s not a lot to say,” Andromeda said, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with Teddy. 

“Bullshit.” 

“Is tonight the best time for that conversation?” Andromeda tried again.

She started walking towards Teddy who threw up a hand dismissively. Andromeda stopped. 

“No - none of your bloody maneuvers around this,” Teddy said firmly, as if she had practiced. “We’re talking. Since I’m too much of a bloody fucking idiot to stay away from you, we’re talking about politics and and we’re talking your family.” 

Teddy paced around the room before turning to face Andromeda. “Either this is going to finally disgust me enough to make me see sense and never return to this tower or -” Teddy paused. “Or, I’m going to actually understand what you believe,” she added more softly. 

“The problem is that I’m not sure what I believe at this point,” Andromeda said. She drew her arms around torso and bowed her head. This was too hard. 

Andromeda glanced at Teddy, who nodded to her. 

She continued, haltingly, “Fine. Yes, you’re right. I’ve been deceptive. I just really, really liked you, and I didn’t want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing.” 

“Try.” Teddy’s voice was hard. 

Andromeda steeled herself. “Does it even matter what I think? I am who I am, and my family is what it is. Whatever’s going on inside my head matters much less than the Black blood in my veins.” 

“It matters to me,” Teddy said. A dare. 

She wants honesty? 

Let’s burn it all down. 

Andromeda rose and matched Teddy in pacing around the tower. 

“Do you want me to say that I know there are plenty of talented muggleborn witches and wizards out there? That any difference in early academic achievement is due to the advanced training that wizarding children get before Hogwarts? That you belong in this world just as much as I do? That Muggles deserve to be left alone? That a Muggle has just as much right to life as a witch does? That you’re right about the muggleborn disappearances? That my family is starting to horrify me? That my sister is starting to terrify me? That this new Dark Lord -” Andromeda paused. “I think things are going to get worse.”

She glanced to Teddy, who looked impassive. Andromeda just wanted Teddy to understand. 

“Sometimes I think I would love the freedom of the lesser houses. I’m not sure I could give up the power of the Black family name.” 

All the things she had been refusing to say and refusing to even think about were spilling out. 

“Yes, I’m a coward for avoiding this conversation, but there is also no point in having it. I am engaged. There’s no leaving my family - they are not going to just let me go. Pure blood is too precious right now. Our families are dwindling, and there’s real fear that without intervention more lines will start to die out.”

She looked to Teddy again. Teddy stood unmoving, her hazel eyes inscrutable. Andromeda’s shame coiled around her, threatening to choke her, and she had to look away. 

She walked to the north window. The night was clear, and, if she tried, she could start identifying family stars. 

“Some mix of Imperius, Amortentia, Dreamless Sleep, Obedientia, and plain, old-fashioned violence and pain - there are so many ways to ensure compliance in a wife and mother,” Andromeda spat bitterly, looking out the window. “It would be regrettable, of course. They would deeply regret needing to do it. Depending on what they used, it could impact my magic - maybe permanently. Other families would gossip, and rumors would swirl, and some would call it barbaric and medieval. But my family still would do it. And I will bear children with Black blood though no Black name, and then those children are themselves a cage. A mother does not leave her children.”

She turned and stared at Teddy, daring her to argue. 

“You do not understand the world I come from, and you never will. There is no leaving. I am a Black.” 

Teddy responded, just as forcefully, “But we can still try.” 

Teddy’s stubborn optimism broke Andromeda’s heart. 

“You don’t understand,” Andromeda hissed. Tears threatened. “All you know of the wizarding world is Hogwarts under Dumbledore. He’s done so much to protect muggleborns at this school. He has professors personally meet with incoming muggleborn students to help them. He’s been on a muggleborn hiring spree that’s wildly unpopular with the Board of Governors. And you’ve heard how he talks about Muggles! That they have just as much right to life and happiness as any wizard! There’s so much more to the wizarding world than life under Dumbledore. Blood matters in the real world, and there’s no use pretending otherwise. I may love you, but there are forces more powerful than love.”

Now that she was talking about this, finally talking about family and blood and how the world worked after so many months of pretending to Teddy and to herself, she couldn’t stop. She tried to slip the line about loving Teddy in as innocuously as possible. 

It didn’t matter. Don’t focus on it. Love meant little. 

“My options are either drugged-up imbecile, locked away and pumping out pureblood babies, or to play the game, actually use my talents to be a Healer, make a positive impact on the world and just suffer through family events and sex with my husband in a wine-soaked stupor.” 

She spat her words out bitterly, at once thrilled to finally be able to say them out loud and terrified by the knowledge that these were, indeed, her choices. 

Teddy finally spoke again. “Then what are we doing here?” A statement more than a question. She had her chin raised defiantly, and Andromeda loved her so much in that moment. That rush of feeling just made her hate herself more. 

Andromeda closed her eyes and put her head in her fingers. She couldn’t look at Teddy. “I’m being so, so selfish, and you’re being so dangerously naive.” 

“Do you love your family?” Teddy asked softly.

“I love my sisters more than anything in the world. I know you’ve heard bad things about Bella, but she’s - she’s like no one else. She was my protector growing up. She is the greatest, most powerful witch I know. And Cissy is so kind and generous and more clever than anyone gives her credit for. They’d do anything for me, and I for them. They’re my whole world.” 

“And what am I to you?” Teddy asked, with the smallest break in her voice. 

The question was so honest and so guileless that it made Andromeda’s heart ache. 

“You’re otherworldly. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so happy as I’ve been with you these nights in the tower. But happiness is fleeting and selfish, and I’ve been so, so selfish.” 

Teddy walked to Andromeda stared straight into her grey eyes. 

“Do you love me?” she asked slowly.

“Yes,” Andromeda breathed out, not breaking eye contact. The weight of the admission held her still. Teddy was so close to her. “I’m sorry. It’s the worst thing I could do to you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Teddy scoffed. “I’m sure you know a couple of really nasty spells that could do a bit more damage than that.”

Andromeda coughed out a laugh despite herself. “I’m serious, Teddy.” 

Months of keeping things quiet, hidden from Teddy and herself, and now she couldn’t stop talking. She couldn’t stop the realization of what she needed to do. She had buried that knowledge away, like she had buried the knowledge that she was in love with Teddy, but the necessary path forward was obvious now. 

Andromeda continued, haltingly, “We could have a year, yes. And it would make me so, so happy. But you deserve more than a year of secrets. You deserve to meet some witch who can be with you openly. Maybe she’s a sweet, bold Gryffindor with freckles, or, or a clever Ravenclaw with kind eyes and a big smile. A halfblood, perhaps. Her family might not approve at first, but you’ll charm them with your enthusiasm and honesty and love. You could adopt orphaned babies and be wonderful mothers. You could have a nice life. We could have a year, but you deserve a real, full, long life with someone who loves you openly.” 

Teddy took Andromeda’s hand in hers and stepped in closer. 

“Have you asked me tonight what I want?” Teddy said, her smile defiant. 

“Don’t be stupid, Teddy.” Andromeda shook her head, but smiled despite herself. 

“Ask me,” Teddy insisted.

“There’s a war. Just because I love you - that doesn’t make this a love story.” 

“Ask me what I want,” Teddy insisted again. She refused to let go of Andromeda’s hands. 

“Teddy, what do you want?” she asked, despite herself. 

Teddy smiled back, and it made Andromeda’s heart hurt. 

“I want my year with you,” Teddy said. “And whatever you say, and I know you’ll tell me I don’t understand anything about the wizarding world or say that I’m recklessly naive, but I think we can find a way to be together after Hogwarts. You underestimate yourself, and you underestimate me. I don’t want some, what was it?” she laughed, “Gryffindor with a big smile. I want you.” 

“You are recklessly naive.”

“I know,” Teddy replied with laughter in her voice. “But one of us has to be.” 

Teddy pulled Andromeda in tight. They sank into each other. 

“You deserve more.”

“That may be true. But I want you.”

They kissed. The pleasure of the kiss next to the guilt was dizzying. Before she could be completely lost in Teddy’s lips, Andromeda pulled away. She had to make Teddy understand.

“I’m not a good person in the way you are,” Andromeda said desperately. “I’ll always choose my sisters. Always. As much as I may love you. You have to know that.” Each statement came out quickly, before she could be distracted by the joy of being in Teddy’s arms again. 

“Alright.” Teddy kissed her, gentle and sad. When Teddy pulled away, she wiped tears off Andromeda’s face. Andromeda hadn’t even realized she’d been crying until she felt Teddy’s fingers sweep across her cheeks. 

They stood together for a long time in silence with their foreheads touching, squeezing hands and robes. Until now, Andromeda had never realized she had so great a capacity for cruelty. 

As warm weather and exams arrived, Andromeda and Teddy continued to meet in the Astronomy Tower. They kissed; they had sex; they talked exams and classes and Quidditch and gossip, and, more and more, family, and even politics sometimes when Andromeda was feeling brave. Andromeda realized that Teddy may have been right about most things, about almost everything, but each kiss felt more mournful than the last and even Teddy’s smile was fading. Neither brought up the idea of ending their arrangement again. 

Each Wednesday, Andromeda expected Teddy not to show. She expected Teddy to come to her senses, find more self-respect, realize her folly, but Teddy never did and arrived in the tower via broom each week. Andromeda’s heart rose every time she saw her turn the corner on her broom, but part of her was becoming disappointed at the sight. She was ready to get the heartbreak over with, and she knew the longer this lasted, the more painful that breaking would be. 

On the last Wednesday of the term, Andromeda took her final two exams, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Runes. By the time she finished dinner, she was at once exhausted and buzzing with excitement to see Teddy one last time. 

Dread too - one last time. 

In the tower, Andromeda and Teddy found each other hungrily. If this was indeed their last time together, at least for months, they would make the most of it. 

Andromeda and Teddy held onto each other tightly, their skin glistening in the moonlight through the windows. Andromeda’s bra laid on the ground near the top of the stairs. They were bold that night. 

“Come to France with me this summer,” Andromeda said, lifting her head from Teddy’s chest. The thought occurred so suddenly she could not comprehend its recklessness. 

“What?”

Before her brain could catch up, Andromeda continued, “Gideon and Fabian are coming in July. I’m sure they could find a way to bring you too. They would be thrilled to pull one over my family.” Words kept spilling out, pure id and desire. “If anyone could figure out a way to do it, it would be them. You could stay in Muggle Nice even! Great Aunt Lycoris might not even notice. She had the house built there for her health, the sea air and all, but she still hardly leaves her room.”

Teddy looked at her with a sly and curious expression. “Who are you and what have you done with ‘Dromeda?” she teased as she ran her fingers through Andromeda’s hair. “You’re not seriously inviting me to your family’s home. The Ancient and Most Noble House? Me?” 

“I know it sounds absolutely insane, and it might be.” Andromeda sighed. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Teddy just smiled, the idea worming its way into her heart. “I’ll talk to Gideon and Fabian. Their speciality is insanity. Do you think it’s alright for them to know about, well, this?” She gestured vaguely at the two of them. 

“They’re family. They’re family and so they get it, but they’re not family-family.” Andromeda struggled to articulate the concept. 

They’re not blood purists like the rest of us, she wanted to say. The Prewetts, like the Abbotts and MacMillans, managed to skirt the line between being respectably pure and politically liberal without being considered complete blood traitors like the Weasleys or Longbottoms. 

Andromeda continued, “They also know you and care about you. I think it would be safe for them to know, but you’re right - the idea of you coming to France is utterly mad.” She looked down before adding, “I think it’s just - I’ll just miss you this summer.”

If all they had was another year and not even the summer, vulnerability was a risk worth taking. 

Teddy leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. “I’ll miss you too, ‘Dromeda.” 

Andromeda shifted so she and Teddy were no longer touching. She sat up against the wall and stared at the beams in the ceiling and then at the stone floor. She finally spoke. “The official engagement is in June. There will be a note in the Prophet, I expect.” 

Teddy said nothing, but Andromeda could sense her shifting next to her. I’m sorry, she wanted to add. 

“I don’t know you if you get the Prophet over the summer, in the Muggle world. But I just wanted you to be ready.”

She glanced at Teddy whose turn it was to stare decidedly at the stone wall. 

“I can’t believe you’re marrying him.”

“I know.”

Andromeda played a whole argument in her head. 

Teddy says Dolohov’s a blood supremacist terrorist. Andromeda agrees but says she doesn’t have a choice. Teddy says there’s always a choice. Bella is brought up by one of them. That is the final straw. Andromeda refuses to hear Teddy say anything negative about her sister, but Teddy refuses to back down. Teddy says her sister is involved with the disappearing muggleborns. Andromeda slaps her, clean across the face. Teddy grabs her broom and throws the window open so hard that it cracks before storming through it and flying back to the Hufflepuff dormitory. Andromeda and Teddy take the train back to London on Friday and never speak again. 

But Teddy didn’t say that Dolohov is a blood supremacist terrorist. She reached out her hand to hold Andromeda’s even as the two of them refused to look at each other and refused to say goodbye. 

They sat on the stone floor until Andromeda’s legs and back started aching. She refused to break the moment and start the end of things. She willed her feelings and her unsaid words through her smooth fingertips onto Teddy’s Quidditch-rough palms. An endless cycle of I’m sorry, I love you, you’re right, please leave, don’t leave, thank you, I’m sorry. 

Eventually, they found their way back together, Teddy’s head on her shoulder and their fingers still entwined. Teddy started to nod off. Andromeda looked at the angle of her cheekbones and softness of her lashes and casual beauty of her wavy, disheveled hair. 

I’m sorry, she again willed through her fingers. 

Despite the floor, despite her fears, despite her desperate internal rush of apologies, Andromeda felt safe and did not want to move. She let herself close her eyes for a moment to pretend they were normal, a normal couple in a normal place.

When Andromeda awoke, the stars were still out, but the sky over the forest glowed a dangerously soft pink. 

Salazar fuck. All that effort to keep things a secret, and if it was her laziness that did them in...

She stirred Teddy awake and leapt up, straightening out her hair and skirt and scurrying over to pick up her bra off the floor. She hurriedly clasped it on, before charming the wrinkles out of her white button-down and putting it on. 

“Oh fuck,” Teddy exclaimed softly as she realized where they still were. 

“Quite,” Andromeda responded without pausing her efforts. She buttoned her shirt with swift, sure movements. She was not getting caught with Teddy on their last night together. 

Teddy made her own rushed effort to straighten her clothes and grab her broom. Andromeda was almost to the stairs when Teddy grabbed her arm, pulling her back. 

Teddy smiled, dimples showing, and Andromeda couldn’t help but grin in response. They crashed together into one final kiss before Andromeda pulled herself away to dash down the stairs. She rode the giddy feeling of the kiss mixed with her sheer panic all the way back through the (blessedly empty) corridors. 

Andromeda knew it was absurd for Teddy to come to Nice. She knew any hope of seeing Teddy before the September train to Hogwarts was completely unfounded, but she could not help but picture Teddy tanned and happy on the beach. A flash of Teddy fucking her on the dining room table in the house (Absurd. The portraits, the house-elf, they would be caught.) She and Teddy spending a night together in an actual bed with actual blankets and pillows and not a stone floor under a robe (Absurd. Dangerous. They would be caught.) 

She resolved to explain to anyone awake that her grin was due to her relief that exams were finished and her excitement to travel home and see her fiancé, but the common room was empty and no one in the sixth year girls dormitory stirred when she entered. 

Andromeda allowed herself to feel happy for over a quarter of an hour before letting reality return.

Chapter Text

After a brief stint in the London house, Andromeda and her mother traveled by Floo to Bordeaux to prepare for the engagement. Narcissa betrayed Andromeda by staying in London up until the day before the party and left Andromeda facing a week with their mother in the giant old house in Bordeaux.

In the end, all that time with her mother alone was not so bad. Hours were spent on seating charts and floral arrangements, and, if Andromeda hadn’t already perfected the skill of directing and affirming and managing her mother’s shifting moods and uncertainties, she certainly had now. 

The magic formula of a decisive answer, given after an examination of the small intricacies of movement in her mother’s face, and a compliment, counteracting whatever insecurity seemed most pressing, solved the seventy-seven inane decisions they needed to make about the event. That magic formula and, of course, joining her mother for wine at lunch and gin in their afternoon tea. She would never become her mother - she was certain of that - but it really was extraordinary how much alcohol made life as a pureblood bride bearable.

Andromeda only allowed herself to remember Teddy at night when her head was fuzzy and her thoughts were confused and she was alone. She thought of writing Teddy, but the possibility that her letter might be intercepted or seen seemed too great. It would be an exceptional betrayal of Bellatrix to use the owl she bought her to ferry letters back and forth from France to whatever small Muggle town Teddy lived in. 

Thoughts of Teddy swirled with thoughts of Bellatrix, and she had to keep them separated, and she had to live as if Teddy didn’t exist, because Teddy’s existence meant Andromeda loved her, and her love meant she was a traitor. (She was Bella’s? Always Bella’s.) Teddy didn’t exist. Andromeda drank until she fell asleep. 

In the mornings, she would wake up to Pepper-Up on her bedside table and tea on a tray, set up by the foot of her bed. When she remembered how she thought of Teddy the previous night or when she remembered how she thought of Bellatrix the previous night, waves of shame rolled through her that even the Pepper-Up could not fix. Teddy, Bella - the different flavors of shame all tasted so similar. 

Andromeda awoke to bright light through the windows. Narcissa sat on the edge of her four poster bed, her blonde hair almost glowing in the summer daylight. After charming the curtains open, Narcissa put her wand away and tossed a newspaper onto the covers next to Andromeda. 

“Ugh,” Andromeda mumbled. Her head hurt. Her mouth was dry. The thought of sitting up and having a conversation with another human being made her want to vomit all over the conveniently placed newspaper by her head. 

“Stunningly articulate this morning, are we?” Narcissa teased. “Front cover of the society pages in the Prophet. Nice photo.” 

Andromeda panicked. She remembered flashes of the previous night, and she hoped that she had not done anything to embarrass the family. Without sitting up, she grabbed the newspaper and studied the cover with bleary eyes. 

But there was nothing to fear. The photo was from early in the night. Photo-Andromeda looked beautiful and poised. She offered the cameraman a small smile and occasionally glanced at Dolohov lovingly. 

Had she managed that last night? A loving glance at Dolohov for the cameras? 

Wine is brilliant. 

Photo-Dolohov stood tall and still and proud. As impenetrable in ink as he was in the flesh. 

“Black Daughter to Wed Belarussian Noble”

“Is he really a nobleman?” Andromeda asked. She pushed herself up and reached for the Pepper-Up she knew would be resting on the bedside table. 

“The whole Eastern European wizarding world is very complicated - it’s somewhat of a contested title, and his grandfather did abdicate, but Mother wanted to emphasize the title in public.” She narrowed her gaze on Andromeda. “Did you seriously not bother to learn anything about him?”

Andromeda let the potion clear her head, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of steam gently releasing from her ears. 

“Sounds better than ‘Black Daughter to Wed Polack Death Eater,’ doesn’t it then.”

“Andromeda, honestly,” Narcissa chastised. 

Andromeda refused to wither under the disapproving tone of her baby sister. The Pepper-Up was working. She looked back to the newspaper. 

“He looks old in this photo. How old is he anyway?”

“Twenty-four!” Narcissa said. “Do you seriously not know that? Do you know when his birthday is?”

“No.”

“Andromeda!”

“What? It's not like there's going to be a quiz during the vows. I'm not marrying him for his astrological sign.”

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“Just wait until you have to go through this next year. They’ll find some man for you, and you’ll have to pretend to be so in love.” She paused. “Though you probably will do a much better job of it than I am.” 

Narcissa smiled and arched one sleek eyebrow. Andromeda laughed and added, “You’ll definitely do a better job of it than I am.” 

Narcissa said nothing but continued to smile her dangerous, beautiful smile.

Andromeda found the courage to bring up what she had been worried about since Narcissa blew open her curtains that morning. She said, rather haltingly, “Cissy - I’m not sure I remember everything that happened last night.”

Blacking out at your engagement party, not very good form, that. 

“What don’t you remember?” Narcissa asked. 

“If I remembered what I didn’t remember, then I would remember it!” 

“Oh, scoot over.” 

Narcissa clambered over the bed with less grace than she’d ever reveal to anyone other than her sisters and crawled under the covers next to Andromeda. She wiggled into her spot as little spoon and pulled Andromeda’s arms around her, always the baby of the family. 

Andromeda let Narcissa wrap her arms around Narcissa’s slim figure, and she nestled her head in her sister’s perfumed hair. Floral - lilacs maybe? She breathed out and the sweet scent of Narcissa’s hair was replaced with stale alcohol and the spice of Pepper-Up. 

“So last night…” Andromeda started nervously. 

“Ands, don’t be so worried - you didn’t do anything catastrophically embarrassing,” Narcissa said kindly. “You stumbled a bit at the end of the evening, but Bella and I took you up. The Prophet photographers were long gone.” She nestled her body closer into Andromeda’s. 

Andromeda sighed in relief.

Narcissa continued, “I did hold your hair back as you vomited once we got you upstairs, but no one else was there to see that.”

“Oh Merlin, sorry about that.” 

“It happens,” said Narcissa, squeezing Andromeda’s hand. “What parts of last night do you remember?” 

Andromeda closed her eyes and attempted to push past the shame of it all. She remembered sipping wine while she put on makeup and her house-elf curled her hair. She remembered sitting awkwardly with Dolohov in a side room before they would be presented to the crowd. Neither of them had much to say. She remembered how uncomfortable the bodice of her gown was and how grateful she was for the vodka in the flask he offered. 

“I vaguely remember the ritual. I liked the flowers he conjured. I remember the kiss on the stairs.”

The engagement ritual was pointlessly elaborate, and she was sure this was another recent invention to bolster egos and provide some entertainment. There was some true binding magic in it, a pureblood marriage could not rely solely on the whims of flighty teenage girls, but, for the most part, the ceremony was just sparks and flowers and a big kiss in front of a dolled-up pureblood crowd. The ritual began the process of her transfer from being under the protection of her father to under the protection of this Dolohov, and it hadn’t required much of her participation at all. She didn’t care to learn the details of her new cage. The bars would keep her in whether she payed attention to them or not. 

Andromeda did think that she had done a particularly good job performing the kiss though. She didn’t even think of Teddy during it, and, if anyone saw anything worth doubting or gossiping about, they could go fuck themselves.

“It was beautiful; you looked beautiful,” Narcissa affirmed. 

The ballroom had been - the ballroom was of little importance. The Dark Lord had been there. Andromeda’s stomach clenched. She had bowed to him, which had seemed like the right thing to do at the time as Dolohov had bowed to him too. 

Had the Black family officially allied behind him? 

An inevitability. 

Bowing had been the correct choice. 

She supposed she would be bowing to him from then on, and the shame in her gut bubbled up again. 

The Dark Lord had kissed her hand. He had congratulated Dolohov. He had said something about how he expected great things from them. Had he been handsome? It was hard to tell. There was something cold and inhuman in his features. Something not quite right. His eyes were too dark, and the slope of his face was too sharp. Andromeda had understood in an instant how Bellatrix could serve him, and she had understood that she was not yet drunk enough to survive his presence that night. 

“The Dark Lord was there,” Andromeda said softly. 

Narcissa mumbled an affirmation. 

“I’m a little scared of him,” Andromeda admitted even more softly.

Andromeda buried her head into Narcissa’s hair and sighed. She felt certain Narcissa hadn’t heard her last comment, but, after a long silence, Narcissa replied,

“Me too.” 

“And what would Bella say to that?” 

“Oh, I’m sure she thinks our fear is well-warranted.” 

“Mmm,” Andromeda mumbled in response as she pulled Narcissa in tight. 

She wondered what happened to those muggleborn activists who disappeared - maybe they were Obliviated and portkey’d faraway or something equally horrid. Teddy was right. The Death Eaters were responsible. Andromeda understood that now. She didn’t know why it took her so long. 

“Is Bella still here?” Andromeda asked to stop her mind from wandering too dangerously. 

“No - she left late last night.”

“Mmm.” 

Holding Narcissa felt so different from holding Teddy. Even hungover and still sleepy, despite the Pepper-Up, her main drive with her younger sister was protection. Protect Narcissa. She felt so fragile in her arms, so thin and sweet-smelling. Though, as Andromeda thought about it, she wanted to protect Teddy almost above all else too, but their desire made them stupid. 

Still, she wished Teddy were here. 

“What else do you remember, Ands?” Narcissa asked, bursting through all the thoughts Andromeda shouldn’t be thinking. 

A dinner. Dull. 

The fish had been good. Someone had made a joke about Muggle-hunting, and she had thought of Teddy’s father cut down by a flash of green, and she drank to survive it all. Andromeda was struck, suddenly, by a vision of herself in twenty years, puffy faced like her mother, sitting at dinner suffering through the same comments in the same way, hating herself just as much. She wished she hadn’t woken up. 

“I remember the dinner.”

“Do you remember what happened after?”

Lucius had been there. 

She had seen his blonde head, shining like a beacon, when she first descended the stairs, but she thought she had managed to avoid him. Bellatrix had held her tight for a moment but was wrapped up in talking with Arcturus about the need for further funding for the cause. Regulus had followed Sirius around or Sirius had kept him close or both. Rodolphus, Rabastan, the Rosiers too, obviously. She ran through the men in attendance in her mind. 

Her memories were blurry and disjointed, and, after dinner, no, everything was just black after that.

Narcissa took her silence as confirmation that Andromeda indeed did not remember the second half of her engagement party. 

“Well, you and Dolohov disappeared for a little while. I grabbed Bella to look for you, and we found you tangled up in the library together.” Andromeda tensed. “Just kissing,” Narcissa reassured, and Andromeda relaxed slightly. “You seemed like you were struggling to stand up on your own, and so Bella and I took you back up here through the back stairs.”

Andromeda was glad she couldn’t remember. 

“There’s no scandal, obviously,” Narcissa spoke slowly and carefully. “You’re officially engaged. And, beyond you being a little unsteady on your feet, I don’t think anyone noticed anything off - besides me.” 

“Thanks,” Andromeda muttered. She felt relieved. She had survived that night without embarrassing the family or killing herself. 

Just decades and decades more to go. 

She and Narcissa laid in silence. The thought of breakfast began to seem less vomit-inducing and more enticing, and Andromeda was about to snap her fingers for Geenie, when Narcissa spoke again. 

“Ands, I don’t mean to sound judgmental,” Narcissa said delicately before pausing, and Andromeda hoped she would stop there. “But... are you doing alright?” 

Andromeda scoffed and squeezed her sister tightly. “I’m fine - I always am. A little too much celebrating.” 

It wasn’t a lie. If she believed it, if she made herself believe it, and she would make herself believe it, it wasn’t a lie. 

She intertwined her fingers with Narcissa’s. Narcissa’s fingers were so soft and perfect - like they had never handled a broom or an acidic potion. Aristocrat fingers, diplomat fingers. She knew hers were rougher for extra time in the greenhouse and Potions dungeons. The callus on her right thumb from the trowel may be the only part of her body she didn’t hate. 

“We’re with you no matter what,” Narcissa whispered, the moment suddenly uncomfortably serious. “Bella and I, always.” 

“And I with you.” She rubbed her thumb over Narcissa’s palm. 

Life after Hogwarts, being a wife, it all just seemed so impossible. She couldn’t imagine a man replacing her sisters in her bed - so large and strange and foreign. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?” Narcissa asked. “If there’s something, anything, we can work through it together.”

The ache reemerged, unbidden. 

Gods, Andromeda missed Teddy. 

Dimples and broad shoulders and the widest grin and the oddest feelings of safety. 

She wished she were holding Teddy on the hard stone floor of the Astronomy Tower instead of laying in her soft bed with Narcissa, and she forced down the ache because it was inappropriate, selfish, vile. 

“No - nothing at all.”

Andromeda was officially engaged. To a Death Eater. She had bowed to the Dark Lord, and he had kissed her hand with his odd, cold lips. Her sister was a Death Eater, and she’d follow her sister into a dragon’s lair - follow her sister forever and ever. When she saw Teddy next, on the train or at Hogwarts, she was going to end things between them. She had to. 

Andromeda traveled straight from Bordeaux to Great Aunt Lycoris’s house in Nice the following day. It was irrational, she knew, but she didn’t want to stay in the house where Dolohov had kissed her against a bookcase in a dark room even if she couldn’t remember it. He would be her husband in a year and would do a lot worse, and so there was no point in worrying now about a little kiss, but Andromeda’s body worried, unbidden, just like she would sometimes remember Teddy, unbidden. 

Narcissa made the incomprehensible decision to stay in London for most of the summer, promising Andromeda that she would stop by for weekends here and there, and so Andromeda found herself in the beautiful house on the Côte d’Azur alone except for her great aunt, who only ever left her room for Sunday dinner and short stays on the balcony, and Mabby the house-elf, who only ever left her mistress’s side to take Andromeda’s bags and prepare dinner. 

Andromeda spent her mornings completing her summer schoolwork and her afternoons going on long walks up the hills and along the beaches. It was the closest she had been to Muggles since her experiences the previous summer with Bellatrix and the men in the park, and she caught herself staring at their strange clothes and mannerisms. 

She wanted to apologize to them for what she had done the previous summer. It was an absurd desire, and Bellatrix would have laughed at her for it. Muggles didn’t all know each other, and no one cared about the men in the park anyway. 

The only unexpected moment in all of June was when she received a hastily penned letter from Gideon.

Andromeda -

Looking forward to seeing you in Nice. Fabe and I are bringing our sister too. Auntie Ly knows, but make sure Mabby prepares the bedroom adjoining yours. 

-Gideon

As far as Andromeda knew, Molly Weasley - née Prewett -  hadn’t joined them in Nice for years and years. She didn’t have the same ability to charm Lycoris that her younger brothers did. She was older and married and didn’t she even have a child?  

Fabian and Gideon bringing her along indicated that her marriage with the decidedly blood traitorous Arthur Weasley was not going well. Molly and Arthur had married the month after they had graduated Hogwarts, and Andromeda couldn’t imagine being so foolish as to marry for love right out of school and expect the marriage to last. 

Maybe bringing Molly was an attempt to bring her back into the proper fold. Why in Salazar’s name would Fabian and Gideon want to bring their blood traitor sister to the Blacks? They were making every attempt to escape - except for French beach holidays. 

Either way, the gossip of Molly Weasley’s arrival would at least be a welcome distraction. 

The three Prewetts were set to arrive on a Sunday, coinciding with Aunt Lycoris’s weekly adventure of descending the stairs for dinner. 

Lycoris sat by the fireplace while Andromeda stood behind, poised and ready. Lycoris was so thin and draped in light robes that Andromeda thought she might fly away if she tossed her off the cliffside. Whatever her condition was, Lycoris took an impressive series of potions each day at specific times and operated on a strict schedule that made sense only to her and Mabby, and, because of this, it was of great concern that the Prewetts were late. 

The Prewetts were very late. 

Andromeda bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation. Lycoris wanted her standing, but she didn’t see why she couldn’t just sit down, momentarily at least. She eyed the other chair. 

Suddenly, the fire roared to life, and Gideon Prewett tumbled out. He immediately dusted himself off, smoothed down his red hair, and went to kiss Lycoris’ wrinkled hand with a flourish. 

“Aunt Lycoris! It is so lovely to see you. Thank you so much for agreeing to host our sister as well. I think the time here will be good for her.”

As he was speaking, Fabian stepped out of the fireplace and followed his brother in kissing Lycoris’ hand before standing next to him. 

Behind him, a third figure tumbled her way out. A person with short, dark-blonde, not red, hair. Decidedly not Molly Weasley. 

Andromeda gasped, and Gideon winked at her with the widest grin she had ever seen. 

“Of course you know our sister, Molly.”

Teddy. 

Teddy.

Teddy was here. 

Teddy was here, in France, in her great aunt’s house, standing before her. 

Teddy was here!

It was all Andromeda could do to stand politely still while Teddy walked up to greet Lycoris. She had a smudge of soot on her forehead, and she was clearly wearing one of the Prewett brother’s robes. She looked at Lycoris warily as she approached. She looked perfect. 

“I heard that you married a Weasley,” Lycoris croaked out. 

“Yes, yes I did.” 

“Hmmf.” 

Andromeda was buzzing with excitement and awe and couldn’t possibly wait for Lycoris to judge each new arrival. She said quickly, “Why don’t I help show the Prewetts to their rooms so they can change out of their travel clothes for dinner?” 

“Hmmf,” Lycoris murmured in agreement. 

“Come with me… Molly.” 

Andromeda’s hands shook as she turned out of the room with Fabian and Teddy following. Gideon stayed to flatter Lycoris. One of them needed to pay the rent. 

As soon as they turned the corner, Teddy dropped her bags. Andromeda grabbed Teddy by the robe and pulled her in while Teddy put her arms around Andromeda. They almost clunked heads in their forcefulness and desperation. 

“You’re here,” Andromeda breathed out.

“I’m here,” Teddy whispered in her ear. 

“Let’s go upstairs, shall we?” Fabian interrupted, gesturing to the staircase. 

Andromeda charmed Teddy’s bags to float behind them so she could hold Teddy’s hand as they walked up to the bedrooms. 

“I’ll let you girls get ready for dinner, then,” Fabian said with a wry smile. 

“Thank you,” Andromeda said, looking him in the eye. She had never felt so much gratitude. “Truly.” 

Fabian gave a mock-salute and walked to his own room. 

Teddy grabbed Andromeda’s arm and pulled her in through the doorway.

“You’re h-!” Andromeda attempted as Teddy kissed her hard.  

You’re here, you’re here. This is real. 

Andromeda did not have use of her mouth for anything other than kissing Teddy. There was no need to speak anyway. 

Teddy and Andromeda finally broke apart long enough to put on dress robes and go down to dinner. Andromeda’s robes were a little too tight on Teddy’s shoulders and slightly too long, but they would do. 

Andromeda couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could Teddy. 

“Just follow my lead, and agree with anything Aunt Lycoris says,” Andromeda whispered in Teddy’s ear as they descended the stairs. 

“And the utensils go from the outside to the inside,” Teddy whispered back. “The Prewetts gave me the rundown. It’s why we were late.” 

Andromeda squeezed Teddy’s hand tightly. Just one dinner and then a whole week together. A whole week.

Chapter Text

In Nice, Gideon, Fabian, Andromeda, and Teddy fell into a routine of pastries and coffee at breakfast, lazy adventures amongst the Muggles and long, wine-soaked dinners and an unsteady return to the house. They explored the Muggle beaches in their new Muggle bathing costumes, Teddy, Gideon, and Fabian in their swim trunks hitting mid-thigh and Andromeda in a navy one piece. The oddest outfits, and Andromeda delighted in the oddity of it all. 

Andromeda loved the simultaneous anonymity and attention. She was not a Black here. She was a beautiful woman, nameless and utterly smitten with the sandy blonde person she could not stop touching, even in public. Teddy was alternatively ma’am’ed and sir’ed depending on her clothing, her bearing, the lighting, the mood of the Muggle, and her proximity to Andromeda. 

Andromeda loved being in public with Teddy. She was bolder than necessary, just for the sheer delight of it. They always had the Prewett boys for cover, if ever came to that, and they always had wands. For all the stories, Andromeda could not imagine what it would be like to be afraid of Muggle men. 

Teddy, for her part, delighted in Andromeda’s delight. They never had the opportunity to be happy or free together before, and both took to it desperately. 

Andromeda kissed Teddy open mouthed and unashamed as they laid together on a beach towel on the rocky shore, a far cry from the chill stone floor of the Astronomy Tower. Teddy kissed Andromeda, standing in the sea with soft waves lapping at their hips and bellies, fully on display to the hotel guests whose rooms overlooked the waterfront. A nice Muggle girl and a nice Muggle boy, in their view, kissing in the Mediterranean. 

Andromeda kissed Gideon in the back garden, drunk and sloppy, with tongue, on a dare, laughing before, during, and after. She crawled back across the lawn to Teddy and let Teddy yank her hair back and kiss her exposed neck and turn her laughter to gasps. Gideon covered Fabian’s eyes in mock horror at the sight, and they, too, fell into each other as brothers, sharp elbows and wrestling and an unintentional black eye, which Andromeda waited until the sober light of morning to heal. A drunken Episkey might mean the blood which had pooled so beautifully under his eye ends up in his eyeball or on his cheek or in his brain. Best to wait until morning’s sobriety. 

One night, when Fabian was off with a pretty dark-eyed Muggle girl, Andromeda, Teddy, and Gideon piled on each other in the pool, kissing mouths, necks, backs. Sometimes a mouth is just a mouth and skin is just skin, though they were all so very gay, and their evenings seemed unlikely to repeat that way again. 

There was a war, out there, of course, but they could pretend otherwise for a moment.

Even if Lycoris or the house-elf saw them in the pool and thought to tell the rest of her family, three distant cousins (one engaged and one married) kissing in a pool was unlikely to scandalize anyone of relevance. What shocked Andromeda was not her comfort with kissing Gideon and Teddy in the pool in her family’s house but it was how little she thought of her family that week. Even Bellatrix hardly crossed her mind. It was like the magic of the Astronomy Tower more so. Nothing was real except the feelings in her body, more corporal than ever before. 

Rocky sand and warm sea air and blessed rosé and no war and Teddy, Teddy, Teddy. 

Andromeda, Teddy, and the Prewetts sat around an outdoor table at a Muggle restaurant. Andromeda found that it did not take as much getting used to as she expected. The Muggles had their odd little customs and clever little ways to get by without magic, and Andromeda found herself charmed. 

As Andromeda’s French was by far the best - she was the only who could manage more than Excusez-moi, Où se les toilettes, and the numbers up to ten - she was tasked with communicating with French Muggles. She asked for directions, purchased flowers and towels and Muggle beach outfits, and ordered their wine and beer and Aperol Spritzes and water, as needed. She had never talked to a Muggle before, unless she counted muttering counter-curses and healing spells at half-unconscious men last summer, a memory which began to feel very far away and almost unreal. 

The Muggles themselves were charmed by her too, the beautiful Englishwoman with her perfect French and excitement over the most mundane of activities. Nice was apparently full of haughty English aristocrats on holiday, and her delight at normal Muggle life set her apart. For the first time, she understood why some pureblood women ran off with Muggle men. They were so charming, so easy to charm as they explained their quaint customs and tricks to get by without magic. It was a way to be with a man and know you could easily overpower him.

Teddy, for her part, took Andromeda’s long, incomprehensible flirtations with Muggle waiters, salesmen, and strangers in stride. They held hands under the table while Andromeda tossed her dark hair back and smiled at the waitstaff and let them look at her appraisingly. Andromeda would then turn to Teddy and whisper in her ear, “I love you.” 

As they lounged on beaches or sat at cafes, Fabian had them play at guessing the stories of the Muggles passing by. For what the name lacked in creativity, the game itself provided endless entertainment as the four of them invented increasingly wild and specific stories for Muggles who passed by. The Muggles had detailed love affairs, bizarre academic interests (half of which did not actually exist in the non-magical world), complex family trees, and nonsensical taste in food. 

Andromeda had a particular knack for creating a family tree based on posture and hair colour. Gideon loved describing their various fictional love affairs to the point where even Teddy was blushing. Teddy picked their favorite foods with such earnestness that Andromeda laughed even harder than at Gideon’s tales of imagined sexcapades. Fabian watched the three of them, himself all too poised, though even he could lose his composure at one of Teddy’s descriptions of fantasy breakfasts. 

Their other game, even more fun for Teddy, was to explain Muggle life to Andromeda with the occasional fiction tossed in to keep her on her toes and let her guess what was true or not. 

She identified Fabian’s claim that Muggles did not float in water as false quickly enough, but she believed that the narrow, enclosed booths around the city were transportation ports until Gideon’s laughter gave it away.

They played it now, in this tucked away little restaurant. Two bottles of rosé were on the table, one empty already, while they waited for their food.  

“They do not!” Andromeda exclaimed as she threw her head back with laughter. “Muggle women do not grow beards on their legs like wizard men do on their faces. You are making that up.” 

“They don’t grow beards,” Teddy emphasized as she resisted the urge to laugh. “They just shave the hair on their legs.” 

“Theodosia - Teddy, what is your middle name?”

“Elizabeth.”

“-Elizabeth Tonks, I do not believe you.” Andromeda continued laughing. She turned to Gideon. “She’s making it up, right?” Gideon shrugged, and she looked to Fabian next. “Didn’t one of you take Muggle Studies?” 

“I’m not lying!” Teddy claimed, completely giving into her laughter. “I don’t know why - they just do. It’s something Muggle men like, I think.”

“You know, I think that is true,” Fabian said.

Andromeda looked between the three of them. Her face hurt from smiling. Teddy was nearly bent in two, and Gideon and Fabian were both red with laughter and wine. 

“Muggle customs! How utterly bizarre and delightful.” 

Andromeda leaned over the table to grab the wine bottle and refilled everyone’s glass. Unspeakably poor manners. 

“To Muggle customs!” Gideon said with a laugh, raising his glass.

“Shh-” Fabian admonished. “Not that word here.” 

“Oh pssh - they’ll just think it’s some bizarre English thing,” said Teddy.

They toasted to Muggle customs and people and food and wine and called for more of everything. 

Andromeda leaned her head on Gideon’s shoulder and squeezed Teddy’s hand. She gave a loving kick to Fabian across the table. 

“You know, I think I quite enjoy going out in the Muggle world.”

Fabian and Gideon exchanged one of their opaque glances. Andromeda wondered if it was as aggravating to be an additional party with her and her sisters as it was to be on the outside of Fabian and Gideon’s wordless conversations. 

“Care to share with the group?” Andromeda asked with one eyebrow raised. 

“Just happy that you’re happy,” Gideon said, grinning wide. 

That night, Andromeda and Teddy lay together in bed, sunburnt and sobering up, the kind of sobering up that led to conversations they fell into but neither wanted to have. Andromeda curled around Teddy and Teddy held her tight. 

“Have you had others since we’ve gotten together?” Andromeda asked. She had been wondering for months and, more than not wanting to know the answer, she had not wanted to care about the answer. But it was the night for questions like that. 

“No,” Teddy replied.

“I haven’t either.”

“Except your fiancé?” Teddy asked, her voice careful, not an accusation.

“He-” Andromeda was about to say “He doesn't count” before thinking better of it. She didn’t even remember what occurred between them in the library, and the engagement was so far away. “Yes, I suppose. Him.” 

“The Death Eater.”

“Yes.” 

“Does it bother you?” 

“What do you think?” Teddy let out a pained laugh. “Let’s not do this.” 

Andromeda rolled over, away from Teddy. 

“No, don’t do that,” Teddy said, reaching for her and pulling her back in.

Teddy and the Prewetts would leave the day after tomorrow. The impending departure darkened everything. 

“Can we save the hard conversations for Hogwarts?” Andromeda asked. “Not here?”

“They’ll be just as hard then,” said Teddy, her voice distant. 

That Andromeda was a coward was unspoken. They both wanted to avoid that truth. 

Maybe she could have Teddy on the side. Dolohov would be busy. 

Busy with the Death Eaters. 

Andromeda shook the thought away. She needed to stop thinking that. She could not have both her family and Teddy. Teddy is temporary. 

Enjoy her while it lasts. 

The next morning, the sun well overhead, Teddy and Andromeda sipped coffee by the pool, nursing mild hangovers and pretending the previous night’s conversation never happened. 

Andromeda flipped through Le Monde Magique. No news of the war - at least nothing significant enough to make its way to France. Just as Andromeda flipped to a piece about new regulations on Algerian imports, Gideon and Fabian burst through the gate with more enthusiasm than anyone should have this early in the morning after a night like the previous one. 

“We’re renting a boat!” Gideon cried out as he strode across the lawn.

“What?” Teddy asked.

“A boat - they float on water without magic,” Gideon clarified as he sat and poured himself coffee he very much did not need. 

Andromeda rolled her eyes and laughed. “Can you sail a boat?” 

“Well, if the Muggles do it,” Gideon replied.

“Not that Muggles are stupid,” Fabian cut in. 

Gideon laughed. “We have magic - what’s the worst that can happen?”

The worst that could happen, as it turned out, was that the four of them were on a small boat, barely more than a dingy, floating in the Mediterranean without a clue how to get back to shore. The sky was perfectly clear and blue, and the sea was a gorgeous blue-green, and they were stuck. 

“Teddy, you’re muggleborn - how does an engine work?” Gideon asked. 

“I don’t know!” Teddy threw up her hands. “I’ve spent the past six years at Hogwarts - not boat mechanic school!” 

A simple Point Me spell showed the direction back to shore. They could also drive the boat with two simultaneous Aguamenti spells cascading off the back, but that was exceedingly slow, and a pair of them had to direct their streams of water very precisely, in direction and force, and none of them could manage it for long before they began to spin in circles. 

Gideon suggested a rather complicated string of spells on the engine, which Teddy quickly shot down. 

“Petrol is not something to mess around with!”

“Oh - now you are a boat mechanic,” Fabian teased. 

“We could Apparate and leave the boat here,” Andromeda suggested.  

“What about the poor man?” Teddy asked. 

“We could leave him a sum of money?” Andromeda offered. 

“We are four of-age witches and wizards. We should be able to get a Muggle boat back to shore,” Gideon insisted. He slapped the side of the boat before turning his sunburnt, freckled face to Teddy. “Teddy, are you sure you can’t fix the en-gin?”

In the end, after some time spent going in circles with poorly balanced Aguamenti charms, Teddy spotted a boat sailing nearby. She waved it down with just a hint of magic adding to her ability to be noticed. Andromeda felt the impact of the charm and took Teddy in all the more. 

Teddy’s hair was blonder and her skin browner than at Hogwarts. Her shoulders were stronger, and all the more beautiful for their exposure in the white tank top. Her blue Muggle men’s swim trunks extended just a couple of inches down her thigh, showing off legs toned from holding onto a broom through hours of Quidditch practices. Andromeda wanted to kiss her right then and there. 

“Don’t act strangely,” Teddy turned to the other three. 

Fabian laughed. “When have we ever said something strange to a Muggle?”

Andromeda smiled at Teddy. “We’re always so normal.”

Teddy made a noise that could have been acceptance or resignation. Andromeda was not worried. 

The other boat pulled up beside them and the man driving it turned off the rumbling en-gin. His two companions waved over to Andromeda and the others.

“Bon-gur!” the broader, brown haired man called out. Englishmen, other tourists, luckily enough. Andromeda would not have to translate Muggle engineering into English and back again. 

“Hello!” Gideon replied. 

“Oh thank goodness!” his blonde-haired companion said. “My French is merde.” 

“We’re having a spot of trouble with our boat motor,” Fabian said, taking charge. “Would you be able to help by any chance?”

“This beautiful girl is stuck out in the ocean with you boys unable to sail her back?” he said. “Of course, we’ll help.” He winked at Andromeda, and the attention amused her. Muggle men were comically bold. 

The two Muggle men chatted with Fabian and Gideon as they examined the boat parts in question. The boys were students at Oxford (and somewhat affronted by her non-recognition of the name of their school) in Nice for the summer. One of the boys family had a house. Andromeda learned quickly that they expected her to also recognize his family’s name and react accordingly. She almost laughed - though she supposed Muggles must have top families too. 

According to them, Tristan and William, as they were called, were expert sailors. Andromeda thought for sure that they were exaggerating their boat repair skills, but the wizards were rather desperate. 

“Just how did you find yourselves in this predicament?” Tristan asked, examining the motor closely. 

Teddy responded, “Just on holiday - not much experience boating.”

Both Muggles turned at her words. Andromeda felt the energy shift, and she fought the urge to grab her wand. She didn’t know why - it was hard to imagine a more innocuous statement - but she was ready all the same. Her wand pinned up her bun on the back of her head, and she could have it out and have both men on their knees in a flash. 

Teddy let the Muggles stare at her, and she gazed back, her chin raised and her hazel eyes unfazed by their gawking. “No, not much experience boating,” she repeated in the same, casual tone as before.

One of the Muggles glanced over the four of them and returned to fiddling with the strings and buttons of the boat. The other looked at Teddy with something approximating disdain. Andromeda ran through a litany of possible spells, if it came down to that. Or if she were given the opportunity. 

They had thought Teddy a boy, and they had clocked her by her voice. They weren’t happy at the perceived deception or her joy or her existence.

Andromeda was not happy with their existence either. 

Suddenly, the en-gin roared to life. The blonde, William, less distracted by his prejudice against Teddy than the other, had figured it out. 

“Thank you so much for your help!” Andromeda exclaimed with false cheerfulness. “We so appreciated it.” 

Now leave. 

The two boys made their way through cramped space back to their boat. As Tristan passed Teddy, so close they were almost touching, he whispered, “Dyke,” before stepping over the side and climbing into his friend’s boat. 

Andromeda reached back and had her wand half drawn before Teddy grabbed her arm and kept her from pointing it at the Muggle scum who had just insulted her Teddy. 

“Statute of bloody Secrecy,” she whispered through gritted teeth into Andromeda’s ear. 

Gideon was already at the helm, steering the boat back to shore, away from the English boys. 

“What was that about?” Fabian asked, glancing back and forth between the others.

Gideon laughed as he steered, but it was a bitter thing. “You’re so bloody straight, Fabe.” 

“The nice Englishmen did not like that I have short hair and men’s swim trunks,” Teddy said. Her voice was steady, and she maintained her smile, but Andromeda thought it was costing her to do so. 

“That’s rude!” Fabian cried, affronted. He looked back at the other boat fading away. 

The other three laughed in awkward relief. 

“No more boating, then,” Teddy said. 

For all the effort, the trip to shore went quickly. They were not so far out after all. 

At the docks, Andromeda let Gideon and Fabian navigate the conversation with the boat’s owner. She was not leaving Teddy’s side. 

The sun was setting. They had been out for a long time. 

Andromeda let her fingers brush up against Teddy’s as they stood next to each other watching the sunset change the colours of the sky and the sea. 

“Are you alright?” Andromeda asked softly.

“Yes,” Teddy replied, turning to look Andromeda in the eye. “I wasn’t scared. I was with you.” 

The thought that she could be the source of Teddy’s safety and security instead of the source of putrid danger - Andromeda could not conceive of what that meant, how that felt. She just knew she wanted to make Teddy feel safe forever. 

Teddy took her hand decisively, without fear. With a wry grin, she continued, “If anything, I was more afraid for them if you thought they were going to try anything funny.” 

Andromeda smiled softly at that and looked down. “I was ready.”

“I know you were. ‘Dromeda, I’m not afraid. Er- I’m afraid of a lot. But not at that moment. Not with you.” 

Gideon and Fabian hadn’t come back yet. They must be struggling trying to translate “en-gin failure” into French. Andromeda let them struggle. She only had so many sunsets with Teddy left. She was not going to give up this one. Teddy and Andromeda stood shoulder to shoulder, holding hands and watching the sun set until the Prewetts finally returned, and the four of them left for dinner. 

“Gideon has a boyfriend,” said Teddy as she flicked her wand, causing the empty bottle down the lawn to explore. 

It was their last night all together in Nice, and they were spending it in the garden blasting bottles with delicate Impedimenta charms, if such delicacy were possible.  Mabby would clean up the glass in the morning. The wards would block any sight of sparks from Muggles. 

“Really?” Andromeda asked excitedly, the game forgotten. She turned to Gideon. “At Hogwarts?” 

“My boyfriend’s an Auror,” Gideon said. 

“Oooh now!” Andromeda cooed. “Name?” 

“No,” Gideon responded firmly but with a small smile. “It’s private.” 

She turned with a laugh to Fabian. “Do you know?” 

Fabian looked away. 

“You’re no fun at all tonight!” She tossed a cork at Fabian. “Teddy, do you know?”

“No - he won’t tell me either,” Teddy said lightly, but her hazel eyes darted around the group. Teddy read the mood of the table before Andromeda did. 

Fabian and Gideon weren’t responding, and the two boys shared a knowing glance, one of those frightening twin moments when one could be certain they shared some unexplained magic. Some creature in the bushes croaked. 

“But it’s not about who he is. It’s what he’s told me.” Gideon’s voice was too serious. 

Andromeda tensed, and Fabian nodded to prompt his brother to continue. 

“It’s your sister, Bellatrix. He’s been trailing her.”

“I don’t want to talk about my sister.” All pleasant tipsiness vanished in a flash. She did not like where this was going. 

“She’s a Death Eater,” Gideon said. 

“I know, and I don’t want to talk about it.” She grabbed the bottle and turned to Fabian’s full glass. “More wine?” 

Fabian just stared at her. 

“But do you know what she’s been doing?” Gideon said, voice rising. “She’s killing people, Andromeda. She’s killing Muggles and muggleborns, and she’ll probably start on -”

Andromeda cut Gideon off. “I don’t want to hear it.”  

“You’re going to have to.”

Andromeda looked to Teddy who was just staring at her hands. 

“She’s my sister. No matter what. Knowing the details just makes it harder.”

Andromeda’s heart raced. She could not have this conversation. 

“What is wrong with you? She’s a murderer!” Gideon said fiercely. “She’s -”

“I don’t care!” Andromeda hissed back in a low, dangerous tone. “She’s my sister!” 

Andromeda looked back and forth between Fabian and Gideon. Gideon was barely containing his anger; Fabian, his disgust. Teddy sat completely still, eyes darting back and forth. 

“You don’t care?” Teddy asked flatly. 

I’m sorry - I’m so sorry. Andromeda gripped her glass so hard she was afraid it would shatter. 

“How can you not care?” Gideon asked.

Andromeda looked at him. "You know what happened to Eleanor Fawley." 

"That's not an excuse," Gideon replied, still glaring at her. 

“You think this isn’t hard for me? Why do you want to make it harder, Gideon? This is our last night and -”

“You’re going to have to make a choice,” Fabian cut her off, his voice cold and slow and his eyes boring into Andromeda. “Gideon and I will be fighting on one side.”

“There’s no choice to be made,” Andromeda said through gritted teeth. “I’m a Black, and I’m with Bellatrix no matter what.” 

She set her wine glass down and dug her nails into her palms. She was not going to lose her temper. She never lost her temper. 

“She would kill Teddy if she had the chance!” Gideon hissed as he stood up. He towered over her. “You know that - you have to know that, Andromeda.” 

Fabian put his hand on Gideon’s arm. Gideon looked like he was about to swing it. He carried all the rage of a beater before a match, and, if Andromeda didn’t know him any better, she would feel scared of him.

“Gid,” he said, looking straight at his twin. 

Gideon sighed and began to walk away with his hands balled into fists. 

“Teddy, why don’t you go with Gideon.” Fabian’s voice was less a suggestion, more the command of a Quidditch captain to a respected teammate. 

Teddy rose, and Andromeda’s heart sank. As Teddy walked past her, she raised her hand and Teddy grasped it softly, a brief gesture but comforting nonetheless. 

Andromeda watched them leave and walk back into the house. 

After they had left, Fabian finally continued, “Nothing we did mattered then? Your choice remains the same?” 

“Like I said, there is no ‘choice.’” Andromeda glared back at him.

“Well, we tried,” Fabian said dismissively. 

Andromeda drained her glass to try to find something to hold on to. She could hardly believe it.

“So this whole week has been you trying to convince me to betray my family - my family - and join your side?” Andromeda was incredulous. She was less angry at Fabian than she was at herself for having fallen for it. 

“And I enjoy the French Riviera in the summer.” Fabian offered her the barest hint of a smile. “But, yes. Gideon was convinced that you were a good person and would choose the right side of the war if given the opportunity, if given some exposure to Muggle life,” Fabian scoffed. He leaned back in his chair and met her furious gaze. 

“And you?”

“I’ve never trusted you,” said Fabian darkly. “Or - I haven’t for years. I have exceptionally little faith in the Black family. I’ve seen the scars on Sirius in the locker room.” 

“That’s Walburga’s doing,” Andromeda spat. “For what it’s worth, I’m the one who heals them.” 

“One point for you then.” He raised his glass sardonically.

“Fabe, how could you do this to Teddy?”

“How could you?” Fabian shot back. “You can take comfort in your few good deed as you cling to your sister and your husband who would be more than willing to murder the girl who loves you and whom you claim to love. You’re a coward.”

“It’s not cowardly to -” Andromeda caught herself. She looked away for a moment before meeting Fabian’s eyes. She didn’t know how to make him understand. Maybe it was cowardly, but she had no choice. “This is hard for me too,” she added more softly. 

“Oh! Does it make you sad to sit in your manor with your jewels and your house-elves and your power knowing that your sister is off murdering Muggles? My deepest sympathies,” he mocked.

“You know I don’t believe in blood supremacy.”

Fabian let out a bitter laugh. “I really don’t care what you believe - or what you think you believe. You picked your side. Nothing else matters.” 

“I can advocate from within-”

“Don’t kid yourself.” 

He was right, of course.

She wanted to make him understand. This wasn’t about whether or not she loved Teddy, whether or not she believed blood made the wizard, whether or not she considered Muggles human. This was about loyalty and doing what was right, even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard. 

“If Molly were in Bella’s place, would you really betray her?” 

“If my sister were a blood supremacist working to overthrow the Ministry? If Gideon were? Yes! Yes I would ‘betray’ them!”

“You must not love them the way I love Bella then.” 

Fabian scoffed. “Or I just have a moral system based on more than just family loyalty.”

They stared at each other, furious, Andromeda at her own foolishness and Fabian at her refusal to - to what? Betray her entire family? 

After a long, heavy moment, Fabian continued, “I hope for your sake that your love for your sisters is not so one-sided.” His voice was still hard, but Andromeda felt his sincerity. He stood up from his chair. 

“So this is it then?” Andromeda asked, not willing to stand just yet. The Prewetts and Teddy would be off in the morning. She might never speak with Fabian and Gideon again. She didn’t want to go to bed; she didn’t want this to be the end. 

She said, softer, “We were close once.” 

Fabian rolled his eyes. “When we were children, before there was a war. But now there is a right side and a wrong side in this conflict.” 

“And Gideon?” Andromeda looked up at him and tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want him to think she was begging, but her voice betrayed her. 

“I wouldn’t try to speak with Gideon tonight. I kept my expectations low. He didn’t.” 

“And Teddy?” Her voice shook. 

“I can’t stop you from speaking with her. For whatever reason, she lets you treat her like shit.”

This was becoming all too much. She needed a drink, and she needed Teddy. 

“Goodnight then,” she said curtly, not looking at him. 

“Goodnight, Black.” Fabian turned and strode back into the house, leaving Andromeda by the pool alone. 

This was all a setup. This week wasn’t a break from the war; it was a new front. It hurt more because she liked Gideon and Fabian. They were still family, even if it didn’t mean to them what it meant to her. 

She could feel the breeze coming off the ocean and watched the trees sway. She felt very alone. She needed to see Teddy. 

Andromeda snapped her fingers for Mabby who appeared, wizened and stooped, with another bottle of wine. Merlin, this elf was good. The elf uncorked the bottle and refilled her glass before placing the bottle on the table. 

How did people ever survive without house-elves? 

She drank her glass quickly before leaving it behind and carrying the bottle in the house. Her fingers around the neck of the bottle gave her something solid, something to rely on. 

If Teddy had treated this week as a ploy to get her to betray her family - no. 

Teddy wouldn’t. 

Teddy loved her. 

Maybe Teddy shouldn’t - she definitely shouldn’t - but she loved her. 

Andromeda made her way up the west stairs and paused to take another sip of wine once she reached the top. The house no longer felt like a light-hearted  break from the war in London. Even the air felt wrong, oppressively sweet and warm. The creaking floors and gilded mirrors felt sinister. 

She stopped again for wine outside of Teddy’s room before knocking twice. 

“Come in.” Teddy called from inside the room. Andromeda smiled at the sound of Teddy’s voice.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Teddy was already in bed with a Muggle novel open face-down on the pillow next to her. 

“Hello.”

“Hello.” 

Andromeda stood awkwardly by the doorway, unsure of how welcome she was. 

“You talked to Fabian?” Teddy asked. 

Andromeda nodded. “You talked to Gideon?” 

“Not too pleased that I’m only learning now that I’m the bait to pull you away from the dark side. I would have batted my eyelashes more if I had known the stakes were so high.” 

Relief coursed through her, and Andromeda smiled despite herself. Teddy hadn’t known. 

“Well, get in then.” Teddy patted the empty spot on the bed and moved her book to the bedside table. “Let’s see if one more night’ll do it.” 

Andromeda crossed the room feeling grateful and stupidly lucky. She set the bottle down next to Teddy’s novel and climbed into the bed. 

“Teddy, I’m -” Andromeda wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. She felt confident she should apologize, but she wasn’t sure for what. 

Teddy leaned over and grabbed her head and kissed her. “I know.” 

“Is Gideon mad at me?”

“Extremely.” Teddy smiled, but it was too sad. Her eyes were all wrong.

“Are you?” 

Teddy lost her smile entirely.  

“I know I should be. I already heard that I’m a lovesick idiot from Gideon. He’s mad at me too, you know. He wants me to - well, it doesn't matter.” 

Andromeda snuggled up into Teddy. Her chest hurt. She knew what the right thing to do was - she knew she had to stick by her family, to remain loyal. She would be a good sister and a good daughter, but knowing it was right didn’t make it any less excruciating. Knowing that she was hurting Teddy radiated pain out in her chest and down her arms. It would get worse before it got better.  

If she were selfish, if she were to prioritize her own happiness, she would run away with Teddy. 

“I do love you, you know,” she whispered finally. Selfishly. 

“I know.” 

“And I know that we’re going to be on other sides of a war, but I promise I won’t fight or help them at all. I won’t.” 

Andromeda hated how small and pathetic her voice was, and she hated how small and pathetic her offer was. 

Teddy grabbed her hand and held it tight. 

“I believe you,” Teddy said quietly. 

“Are you alright?”

Teddy was silent for a long moment, and Andromeda began to wonder if she would ever answer. 

“I’m very sad,” Teddy finally said in a slow, controlled statement. She took a deep breath. “I’m going to be sad about this forever, I think.”  

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s oh- no. It’s not. It’s not ok. Sometimes I’m so ashamed of myself I want to dissolve until there is not a single ounce of me left.” Teddy paused again, and Andromeda could feel the rise and fall in Teddy’s chest as she tried to stifle down tears. 

“I mean, you’re practically a fucking Nazi, and, yet, here I am,” Teddy continued with mock cheerfulness, sounding almost crazed as she tried to keep her tears at bay. “Fabe and Gideon weren’t the only ones hoping that somehow I’d convince you to reject the whole thing - the blood supremacy, the Death Eaters...”

“I’m not and will never be a Death Eater,” Andromeda interrupted.

“Hardly the point.” 

Andromeda let her own shame wash over her. 

“Maybe this should be our last time together,” she said into Teddy’s chest, so quietly she wasn’t sure if Teddy would hear. Teddy didn’t respond for a long time, and Andromeda began to hope Teddy hadn’t heard her. She wanted to take it back as soon as she said it. 

“It definitely should be the last time,” whispered Teddy with an air of resignation. “But I doubt it will be.” 

Andromeda hated the flip in her chest. If she were a better person, she would end the affair and say goodbye to Teddy for good. But she was not a good person. She was deeply in love, and she was not going to be the one to end it. Love had made her selfish and cruel. She was not those things until Teddy. Somewhere, in some small corner of herself, she hated Teddy for it.

She kissed Teddy softly to keep from crying. Without a word and almost involuntarily, the kiss deepened, and they each pawed at the other, pulling hair, kicking off the sheets. Teddy flipped her over and pinned her arms above her head, trailing kisses, bruising bites down her neck. Andromeda half struggled to get free, but Teddy held her down. Power was a funny thing. 

Andromeda gasped out in pain at a particularly harsh bite and, managing to get an arm free, pulled Teddy’s head back by her hair in response. She wanted to hurt. Teddy wanted to hurt. The best way to release self-loathing. She tried to flip over again, but Teddy wouldn’t let her. She had her pinned. She tried again, and Teddy only held her more firmly. 

When Teddy kissed her again, she bit Teddy’s lip as hard as she could. She wasn’t going to be the only one with marks tomorrow. 

Let Teddy explain to the Prewetts what she did the night before. 

Andromeda slipped one arm out of Teddy’s grasp and found Teddy’s cunt. She fucked her while Teddy held her other arm down and they glared at each other. Andromeda bit Teddy’s neck again and Teddy gasped out in pain. 

Teddy came and fell on top of her, and they were a sweaty tangled mess too tired and spent to be overwhelmed by their shared shame and self-loathing. Maybe that had been Teddy’s goal. 

Teddy pulled her in tightly, almost suffocatingly so, and said into her forehead, “Stay here with me tonight.” 

They settled into each other, lying on their sides with their foreheads almost touching, and pulled the rumpled sheets up. 

They laid in silence until Teddy whispered, “We’re going to ruin each other.” 

Andromeda shook her head slightly. She looked Teddy in the eye, taking in her sadness, giving her her own. 

“We already have.”

For a moment, as Andromeda fell asleep, they felt almost like a normal couple who shared a bed and a love and no secrets. When she woke up, Teddy and the Prewett brothers were gone. 

Andromeda broke all her self-imposed rules about drinking. She had no more school work to complete, and going into the Muggle part of the city felt wrong. She had chosen her side, and Muggle bars and restaurants and beaches and boats were not part of it. Instead, she sat by the pool and had Mabby make her increasingly strong and creative cocktails at increasingly early hours of the day. 

Each drink helped ease the ache in her chest and the duplicitous certainty that she was doing something very, very wrong and unspeakably cruel. She would nap in the afternoon and go on long, unsteady walks in the evenings and late into the night when the world seemed safer and less bright and when she felt she could dissolve into sand on the beach, and she would return stumbling to the house. Twice, the house-elf had to whisk her out of the pool when she had fallen in by accident, tipping over the edge. 

She attended her weekly dinners with Aunt Lycoris. They sat across the table and said very little to each other, but they were all the words she said each week, unless she counted mumbling to herself when she truly overindulged in drink. 

Narcissa wrote to her three times, and she ignored the first and third and wrote a brief, vague response to the second. 

When Andromeda imagined her life a year from then, married to Dolohov and preparing to enter training at St. Mungo’s and no Teddy, she would think about placing her wand on the table in the garden, walking the short distance to the cliffside, and jumping. When she thought about what Dolohov and Bella were doing that summer, she fantasized about tiny vials of bright green liquid, an easy and painless way to die. Sometimes, she imagined one of them discovering Teddy, and she would down the rest of her drink, whatever it was, and envisioned stumbling into the pool and sinking beautifully to the bottom and never floating back up. 

She did her best not to think. 

Chapter Text

Andromeda returned from the relative freedom of Nice to London two weeks before the Hogwarts Express would deliver her to school for the last time. She barely saw Narcissa, who seemed to be always out and about in London and friends’ country homes. She could not keep her holiday drinking habit here - even the Black family had its limits - and she was bored and irritable reading ancient Healing texts in the library during the day, watching the grandfather clock tick closer to five in the evening when she could finally consume something to make her feel better. 

Tonight was a special announcement dinner, according to Narcissa. Even Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Dolohov - Antonin - would be there. 

Her mother was convinced Narcissa was engaged and waiting until dinner to announce it. Andromeda performed her regular charade of agreeing with her mother, knowing it was a ridiculous idea. Narcissa wouldn’t have gotten engaged without telling her. There was no boy of significance; Andromeda would have known. 

Andromeda stood in the library with Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Dolohov - pre-drinks with the other young people before the dinner and Narcissa’s announcement, whatever it was. Narcissa herself was nowhere to be found. 

After a short-lived attempt at small talk with Dolohov, the engaged couple stood side by side listening silently as Bellatrix and Rodolphus pontificated on blood and family and the question of Albus Dumbledore - batty has-been (Rodolphus’s position) or Muggle-loving mastermind (Bellatrix’s). Andromeda considered taking a book off the shelves and tucking herself into a chair to read, but that would have been rude. She was too old to get away with that sort of behavior. Just as Andromeda was about to make her excuses and leave to finish getting herself ready for dinner, Bellatrix cut Rodolphus’ Dumbledore impression off (which, Andromeda had to admit, was quite good) and turned to her sister. 

“Ands, we have something we want to discuss with you before dinner tonight,” Bellatrix said with a dangerous smile.

Andromeda stilled and held tight to her glass. The men were silent. 

Bellatrix continued, “We know you plan to become a Healer.”

“Well, that is my goal. St. Mungo’s program is very selective,” Andromeda responded, attempting to be demure. She scanned her sister’s face for a clue as to what was coming. 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and tossed her dark curls back. “You’ll get in.” 

“Your sister raves about your talents,” said Dolohov. “How you are extraordinarily sensitive to the nuances of dark magic, untangling the threads of magic in a body.” 

Andromeda ignored him and continued staring at Bellatrix, who had an almost gentle smile as she stared back at her younger sister. An ask was coming. 

“Leave us, please, gentlemen.” Bellatrix threw up a hand, never letting her eyes leave Andromeda’s as the two men walked out of the library. 

Once Dolohov had closed the door behind him, Bellatrix continued, “I know war is not for you. But there may be a time when your considerable skills and considerable training will be of use. This war will not be won quickly, as it turns out. It will take longer than we anticipated, and we must begin to prepare for a lengthy fight.”

Andromeda said nothing. 

“There may be a time when we need Healing, and St. Mungo’s may not be an option. We are making great strides in our influence there, but there are limits and certain risks in entering that facility while the Ministry is still in the hands of the muggleborns and their allies. And so, there may be a time when I need Healing and am unable to go to St. Mungo’s for care.”

Andromeda tried to remember a time, maybe just a few months ago, when the war seemed so far away, less a war at all and more a series of recurring Prophet headlines. 

“Will you Heal me if I need it? When I may die without your aid?”

“Of course.” Andromeda’s reply was immediate. 

Of course, of course, always, always. 

Bellatrix smiled like a dragon, sharp-toothed and glittering. 

“And what of your soon-to-be husband? Will you help him?”

“Yes.” Andromeda knew where this was going. She knew she was trapped. Bellatrix always won. 

“And my husband?” 

“Yes.”

“And your cousins?”

“Yes.” 

“And if I ask you to Heal someone for me?” 

“Yes.” 

There was no refusing Bellatrix. For her, Andromeda was an endless fountain of “yes’s.” 

Andromeda had imagined a future where, yes, she loved those who fought in the so-called war, a half-fictional creation of the newspapers and Ministry, but she could remain firmly outside of it. A neutral party, a Healer who did not take sides. The odd one in the family - but in the family and a liberal on the Muggle question at the same time. 

She thought of Fabian and Gideon, fighting for the other side. 

She thought of Teddy, loudly muggleborn. 

No thoughts of Teddy in front of Bellatrix - a further betrayal of both of them. 

Her lover appeared in her mind all the same.

Her yes’s to Bellatrix felt so natural, so ingrained. Could she deny her sister? She could put it off. She wouldn’t be certified as a Healer for years yet. Maybe the war would end before she finished her training. 

In which case, her sister could be dead or in Azkaban before she finished her training. 

Or Teddy could be dead or in Azkaban before she finished her training. 

Finally, Andromeda spoke, her words careful. “Bella, you know I’m not going to be a soldier.” 

Bellatrix kissed Andromeda on the forehead. Her grey eyes glinted in the candle light, and she knew she had won. 

“No one wants you to be a soldier,” Bellatrix said, lovingly. She stroked Andromeda’s chin with one long, pale finger before tracing down Andromeda’s bare neck. Andromeda shivered. “I just need you to heal me and your family and our allies if or when it becomes time for that.” 

Bellatrix let her fingers rest around Andromeda’s neck. There was no pressure, just a gentle caress. 

“It’ll be many years before I finish my training,” Andromeda said softly. She stood very still with Bellatrix’s hand on her throat.

Andromeda could tell Teddy she tried. She could tell Teddy - she would never tell Teddy anything. She should not speak to Teddy again. Never again. 

Fabian had been right.  

Bellatrix appraised her and found her acceptable, her storm-grey eyes tracing Andromeda from head to toe. 

“I’m sure you’ll learn useful things before you finish,” Bellatrix said as she removed her hand from Andromeda’s neck. “And, as I said, building our new world may take some time. You’d be surprised at the resistance we face to protecting our own people, our own culture.” 

Andromeda nodded. There was nothing else to say. 

“Now, don’t forget to act surprised at dinner,” Bellatrix continued, her smile returning.

Andromeda cocked her head to one side. 

“You don’t know?” Bellatrix asked, grinning widely now. “Narcissa’s big announcement?”

“You do?” Andromeda still didn’t feel real, but this was a distraction to hold onto. 

Bellatrix tossed her head back and laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t put it together yet. Narcissa is engaged. Or, she will be after our parents give permission tonight, but they will.” 

“To whom?” 

“Our colleague, Lucius Malfoy, of course.” 

Her words had the impact of a Stupefy to the chest. 

“Are - are you sure?” Andromeda knew it was a stupid question. She just didn’t know what else to say. 

Bellatrix laughed again. “Very sure.” 

Andromeda stared back at her. It couldn’t be real. Her eyes flickered over Bellatrix, over the bookshelves, trying to find something to hold on to. Her breathing quickened. Her lungs couldn’t fill up properly.

Bellatrix either did not notice the change in Andromeda or did not care or maybe there was no visible change, Andromeda too skilled, too accustomed, too well adapted to performing composure. 

“He’ll be here soon,” Bellatrix said, cupping Andromeda’s cheek with her hand and brushing her thumb over Andromeda’s lips. “You should finish getting ready.” 

Bellatrix pulled her into an embrace and raked her hand through Andromeda’s hair painfully. Andromeda leaned her body into her sister’s as Bellatrix pulled her head back. Andromeda wasn’t sure if she could breathe or if she were even alive to need to; she just existed in Bellatrix at that moment. 

She had lied to Teddy. Her promise had lasted all, what, three weeks? Andromeda would aid the Death Eaters. Bellatrix had asked, and she would answer. 

Bellatrix released her, and Andromeda made her way back to her room in a daze. Circe’s Blessing, she had a bottle of firewhiskey in her room, and there would be wine at dinner, and she would survive. 

Healing had been a way to build a life outside of her family and her husband, if only for limited hours each week, and, now, like all things, it just drew her in closer. She never should have pretended otherwise. She was all Black and all Bellatrix’s. 

She had to tell Narcissa. Andromeda didn’t know how, but she had to. It wasn’t too late - it wasn’t too late to tell her tonight. Tonight was only an engagement announcement to family. Narcissa and Lucius could end their relationship before news reached the Prophet with only minor embarrassment for the Blacks and Malfoys. She had to tell her, and it had to be tonight. 

Andromeda spent the evening in a daze. Her goblet could not refill quickly enough to make sitting at the table bearable. She put her mind somewhere else and smiled and nodded as best she could. A proper daughter, a proper sister. She floated away. 

In a flash, the dinner was over. In another, the family was saying goodnight to Lucius. He smiled at her, and she wanted to hex him. She wanted to Crucio him. But, of course, she couldn’t, and she smiled back, and she sighed in relief when he finally stepped through the fireplace. 

The parlor floor she had grown up walking on felt unfamiliar and treacherous, as if her internal turmoil had infected the very floorboards of the house. She had heard stories of House Magick in these old pureblood residences - there was probably something to it. She wondered if anyone else could feel the shifts or if it was her own personal hell.  

She could hear her parents crowing about how charming Lucius was, what a perfect suitor he was. A love match, how darling. 

Dolohov said goodbye to her parents with a slight bow. She had almost forgotten he was there. He stooped to kiss her softly on the cheek before turning and stepping through the fire. Back to the Dark Lord.

Part of her hoped that Bellatrix would stay, that somehow she would have read Andromeda’s mind and known she was needed to survive this horrible night. Andromeda was betraying Teddy for Bellatrix, and she needed her sister in return. 

Bellatrix might have stayed, if Andromeda had asked, but Andromeda didn’t have the words. Bellatrix kissed Andromeda lightly on the edge of her mouth and followed Dolohov out with the same, complex statement as she stepped into the fireplace and the fire flashed emerald green all around her. 

Andromeda and Narcissa bid goodnight to their parents. As Andromeda turned to leave, the ground shifted again, and she almost stumbled. Whatever hellish dark magic had built this house was not pleased with her tonight for her failures and betrayals, but Narcissa caught her arm with practiced grace, and the two sisters walked up the stairs together, Andromeda leaning on Narcissa every few steps. 

She couldn’t let her sister marry him. She had to protect her.  

This was Narcissa, the underestimated beauty, the Occlumens, the kindest, the best of them. Even if all Andromeda wanted to do was to hide in her room and drink until she forgot her own name, even if the last thing she wanted to do was to tell her sister that story, even if every part of her soul was screaming to hide, she would be brave, she would be loyal, and she would be a Black above all. Her sister needed her. 

As they reached Narcissa’s room, Andromeda took a breath. “Cissy, we have to talk.”

“Yes, quite.” Narcissa beckoned Andromeda inside. 

That was not the reaction she had expected. The two sisters entered the room, and Narcissa went straight for her vanity and began removing her jewelry while Andromeda stuck close to the door, an easy escape route.

“I need to tell you something about Lucius. And, and me.” Andromeda blinked rapidly as she stumbled over her words. 

“I know,” Narcissa responded. Her voice was too kind. She unclasped her diamond necklace with a tap of her wand and smiled serenely up at Andromeda. “He told me. It’s alright. I’m not angry.”

“What?” Andromeda leaned against the wood-paneled wall. The room was too unsteady. The news was too unsteady. 

Narcissa began brushing her hair, but continued to look at Andromeda with her blue-grey eyes. “He told me about the two of you. I wish you had told me first, obviously, but I’m not angry. I promise I’m not angry.”

“What did he tell you?” Andromeda couldn’t conceal the rising panic in her voice. Her hands gripped the doorframe tightly behind her back. 

This was not how this conversation should go. She should be crying and Narcissa should be crying and embracing her and telling her that she’ll never speak to him again. She should be held, not bracing herself against the wall because this damn house won’t keep still. 

“He told me. About what happened after the Quidditch party two years ago.”

“What did he tell you?” Andromeda couldn’t understand what her sister was saying. 

Lucius had told her? But she was still engaged to him?

“Well, and, like I said, I’m not cross with you, but he said you were very - well, you had a bit too much to drink, and you came on to him rather strongly. He knows he should have done more to resist, but you know men.” She gestured with her silver hairbrush casually, but her words were careful. 

Andromeda stared at her sister. “He said I - I.” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

“And I’m the only person he’s told, because he knows it’s quite embarrassing for you. He would never tell Dolohov. He’s been a gentleman about the whole thing, really.” 

Andromeda was surprised that she was still standing. 

“That’s not what happened,” Andromeda said quietly. Her breath caught. Then, louder, “That’s not what happened at all. Yes, it was that night, and, yes, I was smashed. I don’t really remember, but I remember him.” She had to tell Narcissa. She had to get Narcissa to believe her. “I remember him on top of me.” 

Narcissa looked sympathetic. “I wasn’t sure if you really remembered - I thought that might be why you didn’t tell me. That, and embarrassment.” 

“No - it’s not embarrassment.” Andromeda couldn’t conceal the rising panic in her voice. She stammered, “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to, and he did it anyway.” 

She wanted to run, but she had to stay; she had to make Narcissa believe her. She couldn’t let her sister marry him. She had to protect her sister. 

Narcissa just smiled pityingly, her lips tight. “You’re my sister, and I love you no matter what, but please just be honest with me.” 

Something inside of Andromeda was breaking, and she was sure she would never put it back together again. 

“You can’t believe him - you can’t believe him over me.” She took a breath to try to tamp down her tears. “Please.” 

“I forgive you. Like I’ve been saying, I’m not cross with you-”

“I didn’t want it,” Andromeda interrupted. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I was scared - I didn’t want it,” Andromeda repeated. She didn’t have any other words. To say he raped her, like she was a pristine and sober pureblood girl in a fable of the dangers of muggleborn men, would have been wrong. She knew it would be wrong to say, but she did not have any other words. 

She needed to protect Narcissa, and so, with all the strength and desperation she had left, Andromeda finally added, “He raped me, Cissy.” 

Narcissa dropped the sympathy from her face. “I know you’re embarrassed about what you did, but you’re making a very serious and honestly impossible allegation.” 

Andromeda couldn’t find her words again. She had imagined this conversation a thousand times, but she had never imagined this. She was afraid if she stopped leaning on the wall, she would collapse and never get up. 

Finally, Andromeda mumbled, “Cissy, please believe me.” 

Narcissa’s face was still. She was the inscrutable beauty she always performed for people outside the family. It felt like a double cruelty for Andromeda to be on the receiving end, to be on the outside of Narcissa’s walls. With a fluid motion, Narcissa stood up from her chair and crossed the room to face Andromeda, her long hair, unbound, bouncing softly down her back. She fixed her eyes on the unsteady form of her sister.

“Whom am I to believe?” Narcissa asked. “My fiancé with a sensible story? Or my sister with a fantastical one?” She reached out a hand to cup Andromeda’s face with the same cruel gentleness as Bellatrix had. “Andromeda, I love you, I love you so much, I will always love you, but I can’t pretend to not have noticed your drinking - your engagement party, what I gathered from your letter this summer.” 

Narcissa shook her head softly. 

No, no, no, no, no, no. 

“Even tonight.” Narcissa sighed. “Lucius noticed it too. I know you don’t want to hear this, but please be careful. Please don’t become like Mummy.”

Andromeda could fight back. She could argue and fight and explain and make her understand, but Andromeda was suddenly very, very tired. She was a collapsing star, a collapsing galaxy, and there was no energy to be had. 

Narcissa sighed. “I think it’s possible that you believe that’s what happened, but one’s capacity for self-delusion when it comes to matters of purity and sex is vast.” 

Andromeda could not be in this room any longer. Could not be in front of her sister any longer. The light sconce glittered overhead, and she imagined hanging from it, and that thought alone gave her enough energy to say good night to her sister and walk down the hall to her room. 

Narcissa had almost certainly said more words. Her mouth had moved. But Andromeda hadn’t absorbed a single one. 

Once she was in her own room, she slipped off her shoes. Without taking off her dress, she crawled into her bed and wrapped the sheets and comforter tightly around her body in an illusionary cocoon of safety. Just her forehead and some brown waves of hair poked out of the pile. 

She was not at all like her mother. She never would be. 

But she had just told Narcissa, just told Narcisa it, and Narcissa hadn’t believed her, and she needed something to survive the night. 

Without emerging from her cocoon, she raised an arm and snapped her fingers for Geenie. At the pop of her house-elf, she said, without looking, “A bottle - I don’t care.” 

Andromeda was going to survive the night and survive the next and the next one after that, and she was going to do it without her sisters. Who had picked their men over her. Somehow. 

She had done the hard thing, the thing she had been dreading and fearing, and she had done it to protect her family, and it had done nothing. 

Maybe she had always been too rotten, too broken to be a good daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. 

Geenie, with a house-elf’s preternatural ability to serve its master, returned with a bottle of firewhiskey, and Andromeda drank until she fell asleep. 

Andromeda only needed to survive for four more days until she returned to Hogwarts. Four more days of sharing a house with her parents and Narcissa and no options. She ignored Narcissa’s efforts to talk with her. 

Andromeda had never been particularly attached to staying alive, and thoughts of jumping off of high buildings or swinging from chandeliers or slicing open the delicate skin of her wrists had flitted through her mind from time to time for years, but this was different. Those fantasies of escape filled her mind, and every basic task seemed almost impossible. For the first time, she had Geenie pack her trunk while she laid under her covers and stared at the canopy above her bed. Existing as a Black had never taken so much effort. Staying alive had never taken so much effort. 

Each night she got wildly drunk in her own room and sobbed, and each day she moved like a ghost through the house. She did not drink during the day because she was not her mother, and she never would be. 

Teddy seemed very, very far away. 

With two days until the train, Andromeda knew she had to get out of the London house before she drew attention to herself. She almost started crying at the dinner table but managed to catch herself with a few deep breaths and a few glasses of wine. All Andromeda could think about was killing herself, but the wine made the desire softer and easier and farther away.

Her options for a day trip were limited. Diagon Alley was too full of people. Muggle London was incomprehensible. Taking the Floo to France would just make her miss Teddy too much. 

Sirius was back at Grimmauld Place after his Ministry internship, but she could not put her problems on her thirteen-year-old cousin. She didn’t even know where Graham lived. Gideon and Fabian were out of the question, of course. She couldn’t let any of the pureblood women in Slytherin see her in this state.

There was no one to talk to. She needed to be alone. 

She could go to Dairlanrig. 

Andromeda didn’t bother to tell anyone where she was going. Let them worry, if they even noticed. She’d be back by dinner. 

She slipped into the drawing room in her leather hiking boots and her light coat. Scotland, even in August, was full of surprises. She crossed the room with renewed energy, feeling almost like herself for the first time in days - or weeks. 

She opened the delicate powder box at the side of the fireplace (sixteenth century?) and used the gilded spoon to scoop Floo powder into her hand. She stepped into the imposing fireplace and called out, clearly, as she did not want to end up in the wrong Scottish castle, but quietly, as she did not want to alert Narcissa, “Dairlanrig!” 

Andromeda let herself ride out the dizzy spell that accompanied Floo travel before stepping out in the decrepit hall. She hadn’t visited Dairlanrig since she was a child, when Arcturus was still well enough to hunt and stayed in the castle for months in the summer. As she walked further into the hall, it seemed as though no one else had visited since. The portrait frames were all empty. No one wanted to spend time in the abandoned house, not even the dead. 

There was a sudden crack, and she jumped. She had her wand out in a flash. 

A hoarse voice cried, “Oh welcome, young Mistress Andromeda.” Andromeda watched a tiny, grey figure sink low. She wished she remembered the name of the castle’s elf, but it had been so many years. 

“I apologize for the lack of notice,” said Andromeda. 

She thought the elf had bowed, but she soon realized that the stooped posture was a permanent position as the elf barely raised himself. 

“I can have the house cleaned immediately!” he croaked again like he hadn’t used his voice in months. Years possibly. “My deepest apologies.” 

“Oh no! It’s no trouble at all. I just wanted to go on a walk.”

“On a walk?”

“Yes, uh, a walk.” 

“I’ll have tea ready for you when you return, Mistress Andromeda.” He lowered his head down another inch and up again and backed out of the room, still bent almost double. 

Once the house-elf retreated back into the recesses of the castle, Andromeda exited through the thick wooden door at the back. After failing to muscle it open, she drew her wand to charm the hinges which had rusted shut. Once through, she set out across the rolling grounds. Already she felt better, just for being alone. 

She trudged through mud and up and down hills and around thistle until her legs ached. She spotted a group of highland cows with their red-brown shaggy coats. The sky was bright blue, and the grass was very green. She kept walking. 

Andromeda wasn’t sure if she was still on Black land, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be. 

Slowly, but with stunning clarity, as she crossed the fields, she realized how she was going to continue on. 

She was unable to get out of her engagement and unable to leave her family entirely, but she could kill herself before her wedding. She had known it, deep in herself, for days, maybe months. Formalizing the thought now gave her enough relief to crest the final hill, and she let out a wild, inhuman laugh. 

She had an out. She could escape. She might not survive; she would not survive, but she would escape. She would never heal a Death Eater, wounded after attacking muggleborns, and she would never have to stand by the altar watching her rapist marry her sister. 

The largeness of the world no longer felt so scary. 

She would not have a life with Teddy, would not have a life at all, but she would not try to survive in the cursed half-life that was laid out for her. They - her family, the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord himself - could do a lot to her, but they could not force her to stay alive. She was clever and determined, and her future was her own. 

Andromeda had until May to find a way out, and, if she couldn’t, she had an option. 

She dropped to her knees and laughed and laughed, some sort of mad compulsion. She laid down in the grass and let the rocks and nettles and plants scratch and rip her arms. She was alive. She had a body. A body that was hers to do with what she wished for the very first time in her life. 

Undone and reborn, she rose and walked down the hill and, with the aid of a Point Me spell, made her way back to the half-ruined castle. She hadn’t noticed the outside as she exited earlier - she had been so focused on simply getting out she hadn’t thought to turn to look at the building itself. Vines were growing up the stone walls, and the north turret had collapsed completely, leaving a pile of rocks and rubble. The castle must have been held up with magic after so many centuries, and just a decade of neglect did it in. 

When she opened the thick wood door and stepped through the entryway, the interior was spotless. Every old fixture polished, every lamp lit. She removed her muddy boots. She didn’t want to insult the poor house-elf by immediately making another mess in the ruined house. 

The house-elf had laid a full tea for a group of four on the table in the sitting room - tea, sandwiches, biscuits, firewhiskey. Other than the firewhiskey from the cellars, she had no idea where the rest came from. Could the biscuits be the elf’s? Did house-elves eat?

“Does Mistress Andromeda require anything else?” the elf squeaked. 

“No, thank you very much, uh-”

“Igby, ma’am.” He bowed again, lower this time. He was regaining mobility, it seemed. 

“Thank you, Igby.” 

“Shall I prepare a bed for you, Mistress Andromeda?”

“Oh no, I’ll be returning to London shortly.” 

Igby lowered his already bowed head ever so slightly and shuffled out of the room backwards, never turning away from her. 

Andromeda helped herself to the tea, adding a small pour of firewhiskey, and filled a plate. She was ravenous. 

Andromeda was not going to aid the Death Eaters. She was not going to stand by and watch Narcissa marry Lucius. She was not going to marry Dolohov. She tried her best not to let herself hope for a future with Teddy, but the most horribly happy vision of herself coming home after a day at St. Mungo’s to Teddy cooking dinner crashed unbidden into her mind. It was reckless and unlikely and uncertain, but it was possible now. And, even if it weren’t possible, she would keep her promise. She would die instead of aiding the Death Eaters. 

She curled her feet up on the ancient couch and let herself feel hopeful for the first time in a very, very long time. 

Andromeda took a sip of her tea and ran her fingers down the worn velvet couch. This was the last time she would ever sit in Dairlanrig. This may be the last week she ever slept in the London house. The winter holiday would be the last time she ever would be with family again. The last time she ever would see Bella again. 

Andromeda added more firewhiskey to her tea and downed her cup. She pulled on her boots, freshly cleaned already, with steady fingers. As she stepped into the fireplace, she took one final look around the castle, grand and crumbling, before the emerald fire transported her back to the London house for the final time. 

Chapter Text

BURKE ST. MUNGO’S DEATH SCANDAL: MUGGLEBORN HEALER-IN-TRAINING FIRED (Daily Prophet, 1967)

Within days of the shocking death of Roland Burke at St. Mungo’s where he had sought treatment for routine curse-damage, a muggleborn healer-in-training has been fired. Sources inside St. Mungo’s suggest he or she had a pattern of attempting interventions inspired by Muggle methods. Unfortunately, due to the union arbitration agreement, there is a magically binding jinx preventing the name from being shared in the press. Prophet legal is working on a way around the jinx now. 

See page 4 for Damian Carrow’s opinion piece: “Should muggleborns be barred from Healing?: A safety issue”

And the counter-opinion from Healer Ebenezer MacMillan: “Limit muggleborn scope of practice in Healing: A measured approach.”

NEW FERTILITY ADVANCES FROM ST. MUNGO’S (Daily Prophet, 1971)

It’s no secret that wizarding birthrates have been falling. Many complain in the pages of this fine paper. Few are willing to do something about it. Enter Abraxas Malfoy, St. Mungo’s benefactor. He and St. Mungo’s have just announced a multi-thousand Galleon donation in order to fund additional research into the crucial topic of magical fertility. 

While some radicals complain, most reasonable witches and wizards understand this donation as a key step in maintaining magic. St. Mungo’s Director, Marshall Powelton, said in a press release, “We are grateful for Mister Malfoy’s generosity and community-minded spirit, and we are excited to put this donation to good use.” 

DESPITE WAR DECLARATION, WIZENGAMOT DECLINES TO CENSURE MEMBERS SPOUTING PRO-DEATH EATER RHETORIC (Daily Prophet, 1972)

While the Ministry is officially at war against Lord Voldemort’s “Death Eaters,” a group which combines a conservative politic with radical methods, the Wizengamot was not able to sustain the fifty percent vote which it would need to sustain a censure against Valerian Rosier, Wolfric Lestrange, and Cygnus Black, who all professed support for the Death Eater cause in all but name on the floor of the Wizengamot on Monday during official session. 

Leopold Bones, who organized the censure vote, offered a statement via owl… 

Rose Granger Weasley’s Thesis Notes:

Chapter 6: Pureblood Engagement Rituals: Floral Blood Supremacy [too cutesy for a dark subject? Not funny enough to justify the cutesy?]

Throughout the past half-millenia, British pureblood families have used magic to bind engaged couples during the proposal period. While not nearly as stringent or complicated as the magic used to bind for the actual marriage ritual, the magic in engagement rituals, considered promissory magicks, could vary wildly with consequences ranging from an alert to the families involved in a potential bride or groom were to skip out on the wedding to permanent disfigurement or even death. 

Each of the pureblood families were known to have their own specific promissory ritual, and it was not uncommon for a bride’s family to bind a groom to the engagement and the groom’s family to bind the bride at the same time if the young pair appeared particularly reluctant to the alliance. 

• Purpose of promising marriage
• Promissory magicks 
• Flower significance (too boring?)
• Really worrying that girls will run away - all to prevent that
• Given paranoia around birthrates, old customs returned 
• Intersection with rise of DEs - some source of tension as DL prioritized soldiers or marrying pureblood men off young
• Running away to join him as a way to avoid marriage [just a rumor?? I can’t get this confirmed in any contemporary source]

[fuck grad school!!!!]