I always remember the day I was inducted into the Feminae Putus Cruor. At the time, I had little concept of what it meant; only knowing that it was a council created by the women of the House of Black. Strangely, I had felt proud, pleased and excited – I would finally be following my mother and my sister, seeing what they did at the meetings, and joining in on the ‘fun.’ I had no idea of the significance it held, what they stood for or how they would rule my life in the years to come.

My mother dressed me carefully that morning, even though I had reached the age where I could dress myself. She clothed me in a long, purple velvet dress and tied a matching ribbon in my long, dark hair. My image was very important to her, not because she was worried about me, but because she knew that everyone would judge her by my appearance. It took an hour before she was satisfied enough to grab my hand and head to the fireplace with Bellatrix in tow. Narcissa cried when she was left behind with the house elf, even though she was not old enough yet. At only four years old she was too young; you were inducted on your sixth birthday.

I remember walking into the room, watching every single pair of eyes turn to me. I saw Bellatrix amongst the crowd of women, looking absurdly pleased. At the time I believed it was because she was happy for me, but now I know how she loathed being the youngest, the weakest link. With my induction, there was someone below her; someone whom she could push around.

It was this council of women who were in control of most of the things I did in my life. They influenced everything; what my interests were, who I could associate with and when I was old enough, who I would marry. They enforced the rules, the all-important rules that I would have to follow.

We entered the room in silence. Without even a comforting word, my mother led me to a chair and sat me down, facing the crowd of women who had began to scrutinize me.

“She is attractive,” my Aunt Walburga commented as though I was not even there, “Not as attractive as your youngest, but she could still go far in life.” I said nothing, too frightened to speak.

“She is quiet, which is good,” murmured Lucretia Black, who had married one of my uncles, “No one wants to hear a girl with too many opinions.” Others whispered among themselves, commenting on my appearance, my mannerisms and my future prospects. The rabble grew louder until I was no longer able to make out whose voice was whose among the din.

“Enough,” spoke my grandmother Irma, who was obviously the leader of the group. The chatter stopped immediately. Most people I know see grandmothers as kind, loving and warm. My grandmother was as cold as ice. Her face was tight, wrinkles stretched out, and cold blue eyes. Even years after her death, I would always be able to remember those eyes searching me, first in indifference, then later in disgrace.

“Andromeda Black,” she spoke in a chilling voice that sounded horrifying to a small child, “welcome to Feminae Putus Cruor, the women’s council of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. As a woman of this house, you will shortly be inducted, but before we can accept you, you must learn the rules.”

“The Rules!” The others chorused. Someone dimmed the lights, giving the room an unnatural glow.

“There are Seven Rules you must learn and follow without question,” Irma continued, “Do you promise to follow the rules?” Faces loomed out of the darkness, staring at me, waiting for my answer.

“Yes.” I said in a small, frightened voice.

Someone flicked a wand and everything went black. I sometimes still have nightmares about that moment; the moment when I could see nothing and hear nothing. It was as though the world did not exist and life had disappeared altogether.

After what seemed like an eternity, I could here voices from all sides, whispering, chanting and calling out to me. I longed to scream but even as a child I knew that it would not help me. The voices grouped together and I knew that they were telling me the rules. I listened in closely, still blind and deaf to anything but the words inside my head.

“Listen to these rules seven.” The voices called out through the dark. “For you must follow them until your dying day.”

“The first is to never associate yourself with Muggles, Mudbloods, blood traitors or filth. You are from the Noble and most Ancient house of Black and you must behave accordingly.

“The second is to always keep yourself in control. Create a mask for yourself and never emerge. Black women are strong and shouldn't be given into things like breakdowns or emotional scenes. Your secrets belong to you, the council or your family and no one else. Always keep your mask on; never let it slip.

“The third is to never have friends – only acquaintances. Friendship is unimportant, and in times of darkness, friends are only a liability. Making connections with other Purebloods is important but the only people you should trust is your family.

“The forth is to never kiss or touch a man before you are married. When the time comes, someone suitable will be chosen for you. Do not ruin your reputation in the meantime.

“The fifth is to always inform the council of your actions. Everything you do must be brought to the council’s attention. This includes who you associate yourself with, what activities you participate in or if a man catches your eye. These things must be told to a Feminae Putus Cruor elder. Everything will be taken into account. If your choices are acceptable, you may be allowed to continue your actions.

“The sixth is to never ignore a council decision. Once the Feminae Putus Cruor has made its choice, its decision will not change. You must agree to the decision it makes.

“The seventh and last is to never turn your back on your family. Your family is your first priority and you must never, ever betray them.

“Follow these rules seven.” The voiced began to disappear. “For this is the law of the Feminae Putus Cruor.” “

From the moment I opened my eyes and looked at the faces of the council, I did exactly what the voices said.

At that time, these rules and requests seemed simple enough. Bellatrix seemed to thrive on the rules, and would often remind me of them, just to make sure I was doing the right thing. She even had them written out in her room in large golden letters for everyone to see.

Two years after my sixth birthday, my sister Narcissa was also inducted. With her stunning blonde hair and attractive face she was a council favourite, tipped to go far and make a great match. It was strange to see the induction from another point of view. I wondered why I could take no pleasure in watching her cry like the others, but I pushed the thought aside. After her induction, Narcissa greatly enjoyed council meetings. She marvelled in the attention and loved anything to do with Feminae Putus Cruor. The rules were not a problem for her.

For the next 11 years after my induction, like the others, I had had no problem with the rules. I received my Hogwarts letter and went to school. With the rules so firmly ingrained in my mind, combined with my unwillingness to break them, I was sorted into Slytherin, much to the council’s delight.

At school, I did everything right. I made acquaintances; not friends. I always kept myself cold and in control, rarely changing my mind once I had made a decision. I didn’t talk to Mudbloods, Muggles or blood traitors and I didn’t fraternise with the opposite sex. I was loyal to my family and I never dreamed of turning my back on them. The council was informed of my every move and they told me my life was perfect, so I believed them.

Little did I know that in the short space of time starting on my seventeenth birthday, a series of events would cause me to break every single rule.

Little did I know that every single rule I broke, I would break for him.

~.~

Hurtful words, from my enemies of the last five years.
What’s it like to die alone?
How does it feel when tears freeze, when you cry?
The blood in your veins is twenty below.

~.~


“How about Haylee Brown? Do you think she is attractive?”

“Yeah, she’s a bit on the ditzy side, nice legs though.”

“Really? I’m not that interested in tall girls
”

I sighed and turned back to the glass paperweight on my desk, ignoring the Hufflepuff boys’ incessant chatter. They obviously didn’t feel like working, and were using their time to gossip about girls. A part of me sympathised with them...well, about the first part anyway; I wasn’t in the mood for work either. I glanced at the paperweight that I was supposed to be trying to turn it into a Portkey. I tapped it a few times, muttering the incantation under my breath. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened.

With Charms you usually had to have some motivation and I just couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm; it had been a long day.

My Charms class was fairly small; with only six Ravenclaws, four Gryffindors, three Hufflepuffs and me choosing to take it at NEWT level. I was the only Slytherin so, as a rule, everyone else ignored me. I liked it that way; Charms had become a sacred time where I could actually have some time alone to think. I usually sat in the front row with no other company but my thoughts, and today was no exception.

Yet, today was a special day. Today was the day I turned seventeen and was officially of age. Nobody had made a huge deal of it; I had received no birthday cards or presents except for a solitary parcel from the council. Inside the parcel had been a letter and a stunning necklace.

Andromeda,

The council would like to congratulate you on coming of age. You have reached this date with aplomb and dignity. We look forward to hearing your plans for the future at the next council meeting.

Regards,

The Women of the Feminae Putus Cruor

I had stared at the letter for sometime. “We look forward to hearing your plans for the future
” I wondered what would be brought up at the next Council meeting. Despite this line, it was everything I expected; formal, cold and dignified. There were no wishes of love or happiness, or even a mention of the word “birthday.” The necklace was made of gold with a huge ruby pendant set in a ring of diamonds. It was obviously very expensive and old, probably some Black heirloom that had been in the family for centuries.

It wasn’t really something I would wear; I preferred simple things, but I had quickly penned a formal letter back to the council thanking them anyway. The other girls in my dormitory had congratulated me too, sighing over the beauty of the necklace, occasionally shooting jealous looks in my direction when they thought I wasn’t looking.

Out of all the girls in my house, there wasn’t one who I would call my friend. They were all merely acquaintances, people that I barely knew. I didn’t talk to them much above a superficial level and I never saw them outside of school. I would never consider telling them secrets or giving them my trust, exactly what the council expected.

Despite this, though, I was always surrounded by people from Slytherin. Everyone knew I was a pure-blood from a very ancient family. They knew the power and status that came with that and they all wanted a piece for themselves. They considered me aloof and mysterious, perfect Slytherin qualities, and enjoyed being around me regardless of how I acted.

They knew I had no interest in friends, but didn’t care. They had no interest in being true friends with me either. We were all better off that way.

Yet I couldn’t help but remember when Megan Cary, a Ravenclaw girl, turned of age. I had been eating my breakfast early when she had walked into the Great Hall. Normally there would be only a few people there, but the Ravenclaw table had been crowded with people. She seemed shocked, but absurdly pleased to see them all there, not moving until four or five people ran up to her and hugged her.

They then led her over to the table, surprising her with a huge birthday cake and presents. All the Ravenclaws in the hall at the time, and a few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs too, surrounded her and sang, ‘Happy Birthday’ to her. Her face lit up with a huge smile while they sang and a few joyful tears glistened in her eyes. Once they had finished, Megan hugged each one individually, thanking them for making her day so special.

With a jolt I realised that I was frowning. Carefully returning my face to its proper mask I dismissed the memory. Why on earth would I want a birthday like Megan Cary’s anyway? Friends were a liability, cake would ruin my image and I didn’t want any cheap knick-knacks disguised in wrapping paper. The whole thing had been totally uncivilised and the council would never have approved.

I picked up the smooth paperweight and rolled it around in my hand. Regardless of everything I had, wealth, power and status, I often found myself wondering what it would be like being someone like Megan Cary. She was a half-blood- my family had taught me to look at status first- but she was so sure of herself. I wondered what it would be like to have Happy Birthday sung to you by your friends and allow your emotions to be read straight off your face.

I tired to ignore the empty feeling in my chest. Bellatrix and Narcissa had no problems, so neither would I. I was happy with my life.

My own name snapped me out of my deep thoughts. At first I thought I imagined it, but then I heard it again. I realised it was the Hufflepuff boys sitting behind me and they were continuing their conversation about girls that I had heard previously. It was different though; previously they had been speaking loudly, not caring who heard them.

Now, however, they had dropped their voices as though they were telling secrets. This only made me more interested and I stretched my ears to hear what they were saying. They were talking about me. Sitting perfectly still to stop my self being given away, I began to listen to their conversation.

“Yeah she is pretty stunning, but, unfortunately, her personality would be a death sentence,” one was saying.

“Really?” asked another in hushed tones. “I’ve always considered her rather mysterious, sort of as though there is something more inside her that is being repressed for some reason?”

“Nope, that’s never occurred to me,” whispered the first voice in genuine surprise.

“Most people act the way they feel,” added another boy, “I bet she is as bitchy on the inside as she is on the outside.”

Straining my ears, I could tell their voices apart. They were Ian McMillan, George Topher and Ted Tonks.

“A blood traitor, a half-breed and a Mudblood,” a voice whispered in my head, “That should have been your first thought. Who cares about their names or what they think of you?”

However, against my better judgement, I kept listening. The boys continued their argument.

“Haven’t you ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?” asked Ted.

“Yeah, but she is not a book. Books can be complicated and hard to read,” George said, “Think of her more like an icicle. Hard and cold on the outside, hard and cold on the inside and completely transparent.”

“Plus sharp enough to stab you through the heart.” added Ian with a laugh.

“Maybe she is more than you think. Icicles melt all the time, right?” reasoned Ted.
“Perhaps with a little warmth and kindness, she will become softer? Maybe she wouldn’t stab someone who showed her a little kindness for once?”

I wondered why he was sticking up for me when I would never, could never talk to him? I wondered why it made me feel a little bit warmer inside. I didn’t care, I shouldn’t care


“TouchĂ©,” Ian said, “but you’re being a little optimistic. Plus, who’s going to do that for her? She’s probably promised to some pure-blood five years older then her. You know what their families are like,” he paused, perhaps to look at one of his companions, “well not you Ted because you didn’t grow up with the stories, but you do, George. Anyway, a year or so after graduation they always marry some pureblood, just as cold and emotionless as them. Then, they’ll produce a crop of perfect little purebloods exactly the same and the cycle just repeats. Their whole family is cold-blooded. There is no room for your little icicle-melting theory. So I guess we’ll never know.”

“It’s a shame,” murmured Ted, “It must be horrible, trying to live with no emotion. I wish there was someone to help her.”

“Merlin, Ted, you sound like the heroine of a bad Muggle romance novel my girlfriend is always reading.” George said sarcastically. “So, regardless of the danger of sounding like the grumpy hero, I’ll tell you this; not everyone has good inside of them
”

It was at that point I stopped listening. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care, that they were only a Mudblood, a half-blood and a blood traitor. What did their opinions matter?

A year after graduation they always marry some pure blood, just as cold and emotionless as them


It was the truth of the words that hit the hardest. But why did it matter, when that’s the way it had been for centuries? Just last year Bellatrix had married Rodolphus Lestrange, one of the pure-boods put forward by the council, and she seemed happy enough.

I realised this was what the council was probably talking about in the letter, it had been obvious but I had been too blind to see it. Yet, this was the obvious next step in my life. The council had even been alluding to it at meetings, telling me I should keep my eyes open for a suitable partner.

So what if most “acceptable” Purebloods were cold and emotionless. Being emotionless was preferable to being emotional. I personally had always cut of my emotions at the bud; it made my life much easier.

Then why did I long to scream? Why did I want to turn around and yell at this Ian, to tell him and his friend that I had thoughts and feelings? Why did I want to shake him until he agreed that I was more than a transparent piece of ice? Why did I want to break down into tears and cry about the future I was destined to have?

Always keep your control.

I took in a deep breath, shutting my eyes and clenching my fists. I felt better, all the confusion and pain left me, leaving me once again safe behind my mask. Well, almost all the pain left me. My right hand had began throbbing painfully.

A quick glance made the pain double. In my attempt to control myself, I had been unaware of the glass paperweight in my right hand and in clenching my fist I had crushed it, forcing glass to shatter and press into my palm. It looked awful and red blood begun to flow all over the desk. What on earth had I done?

Always keep your control .

“Excuse me sir,” I said, calmly raising my left hand, “may I please go to the Hospital Wing?”

Professor Deverell caught sight of the blood all over the desk and my mangled hand. His face paled slightly and he looked worried at my too calm demeanour. The class began to whisper behind my back.

“Yes of course, but I think somebody should take you as that looks pretty nasty. Can I have a volunteer?”

I sighed as the class remained silent. Why couldn’t he just let me go on my own? I took off my scarf and wrapped it around my hand to slow the bleeding; knowing that this decision could take awhile. No one in this class would ever willingly offer to


To my amazement only a few seconds passed before a voice behind me spoke, “I’ll take her, Professor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tonks.” Ted Tonks, the only boy in the conversation I had eavesdropped on that believed I could actually be a person, got up and stood in front of my desk.

I didn’t move.

He stared at me for a brief second before gesturing with his hands towards the door.

“Are we going or what?”

~.~

I know I don’t know you,
But I want you so bad.
Everyone has a secret,
But can they keep it?
Oh no they can’t


~.~


“How is your hand?”

I grunted in reply.

“Is it still bothering you?”

I grunted again.

“Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine.” I replied curtly.

Our footsteps echoed down the halls, our pointless conversation slipped into silence. Ted had obviously gotten the hint from unwillingness to reply, and had given up trying to make small talk. I had the sneaking suspicion he was staring at me, but every time I looked had glanced away.

His gaze made me uncomfortable, as though for some reason he could see right through me. I longed to ask him questions but I was forbidden by the council to associate with Mudbloods, regardless of whether they had said kind things about me or not.

Despite my silence on the outside, my mind was screaming at me. Why on earth had I allowed my thoughts to wander off like that? Why had McMillan’s words affected me so? He had spoken nothing but the truth.

I would marry someone older than me when I graduated. He would be a pure-blood and he would most likely feel no emotional attachment. It was time I started accepting my future. I was fine with that anyway.

Wasn’t I?

If I was fine with it, why was I walking to the Hospital Wing after my thoughts had caused me to crush a paperweight in my hand? Why had I wanted to yell at the boys who had so causally discussed my future? Why had Ted’s kind words made me feel better inside?

The latter question stood out strongest in my mind. At his words, there had definitely been a feeling of warmth spreading through me and a strange feeling in my chest. His faith in me during the argument against his friends had made me feel stronger, but it wasn’t just that. There was another feeling as well, one that I couldn’t put my finger on. I shook my head, dismissing the nonsense. Muggleborns’ words meant nothing to me and they never would.

“Mudblood,” the voice inside my head corrected, “Mudbloods’ words mean nothing to you. When did you adopt the filthy common term?”

I was too absorbed in my internal battle to notice that Ted was talking again, until he pointed to a notice on the wall. After closer inspection, I discerned it to be an advertising poster for the Apparition lessons. They had started on the Saturday, the week before last and only two people had managed to actually Apparate. I was not one of them.

It was a little worrying; the council would not be happy if I failed my test. It would be shameful failing in something so public. I quickly tuned into what Ted was saying in an attempt to block out the unpleasant thoughts.

“It’s so unfair,” he was complaining, “I don’t turn seventeen until May, so I don’t get to do the test until the summer holidays.” He shook his head in annoyance and turned to me, “When do you turn seventeen?”

“Today, actually.”

The words surprised me even as I said them. Up until that point I had kept out of the conversation completely, so I wasn’t sure I why I was compelled to reply truthfully. Maybe his enthusiasm was infectious, maybe I just wanted to see how he would react. Maybe it was something else altogether. Either way, the words came spilling from my throat before I could stop them.

“Awesome!”

Boyish excitement filled his face and he clapped his hands together in glee. I wasn’t sure whether his excitement was over the fact that it was my birthday, or the fact that I had actually started participating in the discussion. Possibly a little bit of both.

“Happy Birthday!” he continued, punching me lightly the shoulder of my unhurt arm, “did you get many presents?”

That was it, my first proper Happy Birthday for the day. A strange sort of feeling rushed over my chest, like it was being filled with a warm liquid. It was similar to the feeling I had had in the classroom when he had spoken for me, but it was much stronger. This time it spread out throughout my body, leaving a tingling feeling in my fingers and toes. It was odd, but I decided I liked it. It was a good feeling.

“Just a necklace from the co-my family.” I replied, deciding to keep the details to the minimum. No need to frighten him with the particulars of the council, especially since we would not be conversing for a long period of time.

Yet, when I looked up into his face, he actually seemed interested in what I was going to say. He wasn’t bored or simply faking interest to be seen while talking to a pure-blood. When I met his gaze, his eyes locked onto mine with such intensity that I had an odd urge to tell him everything, starting from my childhood and leading all the way up to the note I had received this morning. However, I held off the desire and looked away.

“But apart from that,” I said, still not meeting his eyes, “it has been just the same as a normal day.”

He sighed. A huge overstated sigh that was so loud it bounced of the walls. My head shot back so I was staring at him once again. He was faking an exaggerated shocked expression. It was comical to watch.

“My dear Lady,” he murmured in a low accent, “it is a crime if the day you turn seventeen is merely average.” He frowned theatrically, before leaning in closely and rasing his eyebrows, “Of course, the day was only average until you decided to take a stroll with me.”

A smile was playing across my lips and my mouth was open, when a voice from my subconscious mind interrupted me.

“What do you think you are doing?” The voice screamed, “Do not associate with a Mudblood!”

I swallowed back the laugh that was about to burst from my lips. I knew I had let things go far enough already. I couldn’t associate myself further with him, let alone start laughing at his immature jokes. I returned my face to a mask-like expression and gave a curt nod instead.

His face fell at response as though he was expecting something more, but along with the disappointment, I could also see a glimpse of pity. It was strange, receiving pity from someone I had always been told was below me, since I didn’t know what I had done to gain it.

Perhaps he had seen the laughter in my eyes or guessed that I had stopped myself. Maybe he believed that I should be able to laugh with him. It was better for me if I never found out. I increased my pace. The sooner I got the Hospital Wing and out of his dangerous company, the better.

“Wait a minute,” he said solemnly, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a stop. Obviously he was not going to let me leave as quickly as I would have hoped. “Since it is your birthday, you deserve something special,” he explained, pulling out his wand, “I’m sorry if this doesn’t work, but please remember that it is the thought that counts.”

Deliberately he plucked a blonde a hair from his head and laid it on his palm. Then, screwing up his face in concentration, he transfigured it into a yellow sunflower.

“Happy Birthday, m’lady,” he said as he knelt to the ground and presented the flower to me with a flourish, “and may it be-eth a ye’ fantastical day.”

Slowly I reached out to grasp the flower with my good hand. It was a strange sort of bloom, it looked rather common, but on closer inspection it was utterly unique. Smaller than the average sunflower, its face was only slightly larger than the size of my palm. The stem was long and slightly crooked, while the petals shone a pale yellow; exactly the same colour as his hair.

It couldn’t be described as classical or flawless, but to me, it was beautiful. For some reason, although it was such a simple gift, it felt better than a million golden necklaces. Even if they were old family heirlooms.

For the first time that day, I was actually glad that it was my birthday.

As I stared at the flower, the strange feeling flooded me again, stronger and even more potent than before. I wanted to throw my arms around Ted and thank him for making my birthday more than just another day. But I couldn’t. We were from separate worlds. It would be best for all involved if I just kept my distance.

Ted must have had some sort of strange aversion to silence though, because he was speaking once again. “It’s not anything too special,” he gushed, “and it’s probably nothing compared to the necklace from your family
”

Another voice interrupted him, but this one spoke not kindly, but with a harsh coldness. The two voices overlapped, as though asking me to choose.

“Throw the flower to the ground,”

“But it is your birthday after all
”

“It comes from filth and should be nowhere near you.”

“And I thought you might like a small gift
”

“Do not accept a gift from a 
”

“Thank you.” I whispered, ignoring the voice in my head for the first time ever. “It’s perfect.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” he said, staring at me for a brief second more before resuming walking. I wondered if he recognised the significance of the moment. I couldn’t even be sure what it meant.

It seemed that before I had a chance to think further on it, we reached the Hospital Wing. Ted held the door open like a gentleman as I walked through. As soon as Madam Pomfrey saw my hand, she sat me down and ushered Ted out.

He paused at the door, “I’ll see you around?” he asked.

”Do not associate with Mudbloods!” screeched the voice inside my head, “Tell him to go away and to take his ridiculous flower with him.”

“Sure,” I murmured softly. “I’ll see you around.”


~.~


After Ted had left the Hospital Wing, Madam Johnson poured a strange potion on my hand to dissolve the glass and heal the cut. While I was waiting, my sister came to visit me, and I used the opportunity to push thoughts of Ted from my mind.

After quickly asking how I was feeling and not waiting for a reply, Narcisssa began to drone on and on about how Lucius Malfoy, a fifth-year, had asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him in three weeks.

I knew him, as he was in the year below me and in our house, but she described him to me in great detail anyway. She especially lingered on the all important fact - he came from a very respectable family. Of course I already knew this, but she assured me it was true none the less.

Although I didn’t ask, she assured me that she wouldn’t break any rules, or disgrace the family. She was just “looking out for her options.” She made no mention of my birthday, and I was fairly sure she had forgotten about it altogether. We had been close as small children, but I knew things had begun to change. We were growing up.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and I kept myself busy to occupy my thoughts. I had discreetly put the flower in my bag and pushed it from my mind.

However, when I took it out, all the feelings came back to me. I found a glass and filled it with water. I stared at the flower for a second, pondering over its beauty. I only had that one second before the voice tried to reason with me. This time it wasn’t screeching or yelling, but had taken on a calm tone.

“Andromeda, that flower is little more than a product of filth. Surely you must realise what you are doing by keeping it. You remember the rule ‘Do not associate with a Mudblood.’ By accepting the Mudblood’s gift, you are doing exactly that. So why don’t you be a good little girl and crush the flower right now? It has no thorns to protect it, so it will be simple. Once it is destroyed, you can forget this ever happened
”

I clasped my hand around the flower, willing my hand to pull tighter. It would be so easy to do. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. How could something so beautiful and innocent be filth? I knew I could never crush something so beautiful, regardless of its origins.

I placed the flower in a jar of water.

For the first time in my life, I had broken a rule.

~.~

I walk this empty street on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams


Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you.

~.~

Some people think that the sun shining in the morning is a sign of good things to come, but the moment I woke up on the last day of January, the first thing I realised was that the day was going to be bad. It was a strange feeling in my stomach, a sort of twist and ache that told me nothing good would come of that day.

The second thing I realised was that I was very late. Obviously, everyone had left for breakfast without me.

I got dressed quickly, throwing a glance at the sunflower in the jar on my bedside table. It seemed fine, and was showing its yellow face to the world. Standing out in the green surroundings, it stood so boldly in a place that wasn’t its natural environment. It was a shame really; it obviously would never survive in this habitat. I considered taking it outside and planting it in a proper garden bed with other sunflowers. What was the use in encouraging it to live where it was? It could never survive.

Deciding I was in too much of a hurry to deal with it at that precise moment, I grabbed my bag and ran from the room.


~.~


I rushed straight to my morning classes without breakfast, and by the time Charms came around, I was absolutely starving. Unfortunately, Charms class was no faster than usual. In fact, everything about Charms was exactly the same. I sat in the same seat, alone, directly in front of the Hufflepuff boys.

It had been a week since “the incident,” as I had taken to calling it in my mind. Since that day, I was making a huge effort to avoid Ted. I refused to look at him, pass him in corridors, or remain in close proximity. The only time I was ever close to him was in Charms, and even then I made a huge effort to block out his voice. I didn’t want a repeat of the previous week.

Yet it seemed that, despite all the effort I was taking to avoid him, he was always there. It seemed as though I was constantly ducking down secret passages to avoid passing him in the corridors or surrounding myself with large groups of Slytherins so he wouldn’t approach. Occasionally, even though I had tried to avoid it, we had locked glances. On these occasions, he had merely raised his eyebrows, as though he knew exactly what I was doing, and he found it amusing. I had always looked away as fast as possible.

Time, somehow, seemed to be going extra slowly, and eventually I gave up concentrating and packed up my books. That way, as soon as the bell rang, I could make a quick escape.

Unfortunately, my plan was thwarted by my own clumsiness. When the bell finally went, I got up too quickly and accidentally knocked all my books to the ground. Groaning inwardly, I bent down to pick them up as everyone else, including Professor Deverell, left the classroom for lunch.

Well, almost everyone. As I scrambled to find the last book, I found a hand holding it out to me.

“Hey, Andy!”

Oh no! Didn’t he grasp the hint? And what was with the nickname?

With both of us still crouching on the ground, I gave him my best withering look – the one I had learnt from Bellatrix – but unfortunately, it didn’t have the effect I desired.

He broke into laughter. “Oh, Merlin,” he cried in mirth, “that is just hilarious. Some looks are cold, but that one would have put the iceberg that sunk the Titanic to shame.” I raised my eyebrows, showing him he was talking nonsense.

“Oh right, you’re a pure-blood, you have absolutely no idea what I am talking about,” he sighed and began to explain. “The Titanic is this big Muggle ship that crashed into an iceberg and
”

“Is there a reason why you are talking to me, m-m-m-Tonks?” I stuttered. I took in a deep breath, shocked at myself. Why couldn’t I say it? What was it about him that had stopped me using that term?

“Is there a reason you have been avoiding me the last week?” he asked in much the same tone, without the stutter.

“No,” I replied briskly, avoiding the accusation, “It’s not like we are friends.”

“Ah,” he said, a little hurt, “but we could be.”

I kept my face impassive. I couldn’t be friends with anyone, let alone a Muggle-born. Didn’t he realise it was impossible? I straightened up and took a step towards the door, but his hand was grasping my arm.

“Just give me a minute here, will you?” he asked in an annoyed tone, standing up to full height. “Sheesh, you’re always trying to run away
” He however, didn’t look as though he was in a hurry to say anything. Actually, he was looking all around the room as though he was at a loss for words, which seemed a little out of character for him.

I coughed discreetly. His eyes snapped back to my face.

“I-was-wondering-if-you-wanted-to-go-to-Hogsmeade-with-me?” he gushed.

“What?” I asked managing to keep my face calm while shock riled inside me. Did he say what I thought he said?

“Meet me in Hogsmeade in a fortnight,” he repeated more calmly, “you don’t even have to spend the whole time with me. We’ll just have lunch somewhere.”

That stupid feeling of warmth was back, but I didn’t need the cold voice in my head to tell me what to do this time. I knew I had only one option.

“Sorry,” I stated calmly, keeping my face impassive, “I will not be going with you.” I strode out of the classroom, leaving him behind without a second glance.


~.~


The day dragged on and on. When I returned to my dormitory, ready to collapse, I found the sunflower still sitting in its jar on my bedside table. I stared at it, wondering why it was so attractive. People didn’t care much for sunflowers, people liked roses and lilies and daffodils. Those flowers had style, class and were expensive. Sunflowers were cheap, simple and inelegant. Or so I had always thought. What was this sunflower’s charm anyway?


~.~


“Hey, Dromeda!”

I kept walking. Did he have any idea how annoying this was? For two days, he had been calling out to me in the corridors, chasing me down and generally trying to get within speaking range. Luckily, I had managed to avoid him. Annoyingly, each time I heard him call, the feeling of warmth had appeared, but each time I had ignored it.

I sped up as I hunted the corridor for an escape, but this time there were no secret passages, no toilets and no crowd to lose myself in. I had stupidly left the Great Hall alone.

“Dromeda!” he huffed out of breath, catching hold of my arm. I shot him an angry look. “I’m sorry,” he continued, “but your name is a teeny bit of a mouthful. Plus, from your expression, I think you like that one better than Andy.”

He paused in his tirade as though he was preparing himself, “I was a little put out at your reaction to my brilliant proposal, but I am not one who accepts defeat easily,” I rolled my eyes. That was the understatement of the year. “Anyway, I’ve been asking around about you, and apart from being told the usual – you are cold, you are insensitive, blah, blah, blah, everyone talks about how strict your family is. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I know that you can’t be seen in public with me. Your family won’t like it.”

“My family are not the only ones who have an aversion to you,” I replied coldly.

I tried to tell myself that my family wasn’t the only reason I wouldn’t go to Hogsmeade with him. I didn’t like him anyway, we had nothing in common, and we had no spark et cetera. But, I couldn’t help but think that if I had different parents and there was no council to watch over me, I would have agreed long ago. I pushed the thought aside; there was no reason to dwell on such things. I attempted to free myself from his grip. He ignored me and kept talking.

“Despite what you say, I think you want to come with me deep inside. Why don’t we just meet in Hogsmeade and go off and have a picnic lunch or something?” He paused and stared deep into my face as though he was searching for something. I stopped, trying to free myself.

“No one has to know. For once, you can be the real you.”

“How do you know this is not the real me?” I whispered, ignoring the feeling of warmth that diminished at my words. “You know absolutely nothing about me.”

“And it should stay that way.” The voice added, as I wrenched my arm free and strode away.


~.~


Walking back to my dormitory later that afternoon, I resolved I would get rid of the sunflower once and for all. It wasn’t as though I liked it anyway. It was just a nuisance, no matter how pretty or sunny it was. As I entered the dormitory, I grasped my wand, ready to vanish the flower forever, but as soon as I saw it, I stopped. It was doing no harm sitting there. The truth of the matter was it brightened my day. Vanishing it would be like killing an innocent; I could never do it.


~.~


“Hey, Dromeda!”

I didn’t react, hoping he would just go away. It was after Charms and my bag had just split. I had no idea why, it was brand new and of the highest quality money could procure. For the last few days I had managed with great success to avoid Ted and my bag had just ruined it. I scowled at the broken material, before looking up and scowling at him for good measure. To add insult to injury, the feeling of warmth was back.

“Are you like this to everyone, or just me?” Ted asked, in a joking tone.

“Everyone,” I replied curtly, “I’m an icicle.”

His face fell. “You heard that?” he asked, a little ashamed. I didn’t understand why he felt guilty, after all it had been his friends not him who had said it in the first place. His guilty expression made me feel annoyed. Everything would be so much easier if he thought exactly like his friends.

“That and everything else your friends said,” I spat, with a little more venom than what I had originally intended. “They seem to have gotten my personality and family completely perfect.”

He shook his head as though he was arguing with me. Once again the words slipped out before I could stop them or think about what I was doing. “I don’t know why you were sticking up for me or why you are continuing on this ridiculous crusade of yours, but I am not a project that needs to be warmed or melted. In fact, if you knew what was best for you, you would stay away.”

“I don’t think you are a project
”

“THEN WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? You must have some ulterior motive? Some reason for asking me out constantly?” My voice began to waver, showing cracks. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

He paused, staring into my eyes. “I’ve noticed something about you, Andromeda. You see, about a month ago, when you were hanging around with a Slytherin crowd, one of them tripped up a Muggle-born and they all laughed. But you were different. Just after the incident, this look of sorrow crossed your face, as though you felt really awful for what had just happened. A second later, you let out a little laugh, but it seemed slightly fake, as though unconsciously, you had forced yourself to do it.

“It intrigued me and I started to watch you. I hadn’t been imagining things. Whenever someone said or did something mean or harsh, for a brief second, your eyes flashed with pain or misery. It didn’t matter if the victim was pure-blood, half-blood or Muggle-born, the look in your eyes appeared anyway.”

“It’s hardly noticeable at all, especially to the unperceptive, but it is definitely there. It’s almost as though you know what is happening is wrong, but you are too afraid to even think about it.”

“I also noticed that you show the same reaction when people talk about your future after Hogwarts. You obviously don’t want to do what you are expected, but you believe even thinking about any other path is somehow evil. But however much you repress it, the flash of pain in always there.”

“But the other day, it was different. When we were laughing and joking, your eyes reflected genuine happiness. When I wished you happy birthday and gave you the sunflower, the flash in your eyes held hope.”

“I want to be there to bring out the hope, that’s the real reason I have been trying to talk to you. I want to be the one to bring out the person inside you, because right now that person is so overwhelmed by whatever other crap is shoving her down that she doesn’t stand a chance. I want that person to be your future. I want you to know you are something more than you thought you were.”

During his whole explanation I stood rooted to the spot, but when he finished, I began to stare at him in horror. It couldn’t be true. I didn’t want to believe it.

“Andromeda?” he questioned, worried. Maybe, he could see into my eyes. Maybe, at that moment, he could see the horror pumping through my veins.

I began to back away slowly, still staring at him. Then, when I reached the doorway to the classroom, I turned and sprinted away as fast as I could.

~.~

And all of your weight,
All you dream,
Falls on me, it falls on me.
And your beautiful sky,
The light you bring,
Falls on me, it falls on me.

~.~

The common room was crowded after the Quidditch match. As per usual, almost everyone in Slytherin had stayed to discuss every detail of what had happened. It had been a long game, lasting almost all day, ending with Gryffindor winning by a slim margin. Apparently, it had been extremely exciting; Slytherin had been winning, but the Gryffindor Seeker had caught the Snitch in a spectacular dive, causing them to win by the slim margin of twenty points.

But the game wasn’t the only thing being discussed, the Gryffindors in general were also being scrutinised. According to the group consensus, they were cheaters, Mudbloods, pathetic and general slime. It seemed no one could accept that they won fair and square.

Despite how excited everyone else had been, I hadn’t been able to concentrate on the game properly. Quite frankly, I hadn’t even wanted to go, but staying alone in the common room would raise unwanted questions. So, as duty dictated, I sat in the Slytherin stands watching the match, and attempted to enjoy it as everyone else did.

Much to my dismay, I had constantly caught myself scanning the Hufflepuff crowd. I had seen Ted, laughing and joking with his friends. Each time, the feeling of warmth had spread at the sight of his smile, but the screeching voice in my head had forced me to turn away. There was no reason I should be thinking of him.

He hadn’t approached me since our last conversation. He hadn't approached me since I had turned and fled.

“Hello, Andromeda.”

A voice broke me out of my brooding thoughts. It was a boy in sixth year by the name of Anthony Fordonus. The way he was standing instantly reminded me of the way a king would stand among peasants. Truth be told, he was almost royalty, or as close to it as a wizard could get. He was, after all, a member of the notorious Fordonus pure-blood clan.

“My brother, Dravel, is back from his tour of Europe,” he commented, staring me up and down, assessing me. An involuntary shiver ran up and down my spine.

“I trust that he enjoyed it,” I replied slowly.

“Yes, he did,” Anthony replied coldly. “Now that he is back he has certain... duties he needs to fulfil. He wanted me to give this to you. I’m sure he will get in touch with your family sometime in the future.”

Anthony handed over a red rose and an envelope then left me alone to open the letter. Inside, written on what looked to be expensive parchment, was a short note.

Andromeda,

I hope to hear that you are well and that you are still sticking to your rules, especially the ones that count. Please accept this rose as a signal of our past, and hopefully future, friendship. I look forward to speaking to you and your family in the near future. I await your correspondence.

Yours sincerely,
Dravel

It had been a while since I had thought of Dravel. In fact, I had made a huge effort not to think of him. It was easier that way.

I had known Dravel from almost the first moment I had been sorted into Slytherin. Bellatrix knew him well and she had introduced him to me. Of course, at that time, I was nothing but a small, insignificant first-year, and he had barely paid me any attention. After all he was quite a few years my senior, and had a large reputation. As my second year drew to a close, my relationship with him was no different. I was just one of the many people he was acquainted with and he rarely made any effort to converse with me. However, at the start of my third year, things began to change.

Over the summer break, I had filled out and matured a little early, coming back looking a lot older than I actually was. Dravel wasn’t the only one who had noticed the difference; it seemed that many people were shocked by my apparent transformation. People began to describe me as beautiful, some even stretching to stunning. I tried to ignore the attention as it made me uncomfortable, but most of the Slytherin boys surrounded me anyway. A pure-blood with looks, money and family power was considered a worthy prize to chase after.

However, the attention did not come only from my own house. A few boys from other houses had also attempted to flirt or gain my attention. After one Ravenclaw boy, a blood-traitor, wolf-whistled, Bella hexed him so powerfully that he had spent the week in the hospital wing. As a punishment, she had spent a month in detention, but the boys from other houses had backed down. I may have been attractive, but to them, I was not worth the trouble.

The pure-blood Slytherins, however, were a different story. I was fair game and I couldn’t spend much time in the common room without being stared at, questioned, or examined like a dog on show. Dravel Fordonus had been the worst of them all. Not only did he spend as much free time as possible by my side, but he also scared the others off. He looked at me with a possessive look in his eye that made me shudder. I tried to tell myself that he was a nice man and good company, but sometimes, even I found it hard to believe myself.

I stared at the note as the memories began to wash over me.

~.~

I left the Great Hall in a hurry. The end of the year had rolled around so quickly that I hadn’t even finished packing. Most people, my sisters included, were still in the hall at the feast. After all, dessert hadn’t even been served.

I was glad to have some time alone, just to think. It seemed I was always surrounded by people, both my family and others. Sometimes I felt better just to be alone, a luxury that I was rarely presented with an opportunity to take.

“Andromeda.”

I turned at the sound of my name. It was Dravel; I shuddered involuntarily. His attention always made me feel uncomfortable. It seemed he was constantly around me, watching my every mood and breathing down my neck. I wondered why he had skipped out on dinner early. Had he also left packing too late or was it more than just a coincidence? Sometimes, it was hard to believe that his motives were genuine. I cut off my thoughts before they could mutate further. He was a pure-blood and pure-bloods must always be treated with respect.

“Hello, Dravel,” I replied. “How are you?”

“I’m not bad, not bad at all.” His eyes travelled across my person. “I’m glad I ran into you,” he murmured. “Care to escort me back to the common room?”

I nodded my head and held out my arm. After all, Dravel hadn’t done anything to harm me and the Council had told me to make pure-blood connections. As we walked, Dravel leaned in closely as he talked about his plans after school. He was planning on taking a few years to travel Europe, before returning back to England to act as his father’s heir.

However, before we reached the common room, he steered me into an empty room. It was one of the dungeons where Potions was held. I turned, confused, to ask why we were there, but my voice was stuck in my throat. Dravel was right behind me, so close we were almost touching, so close that I could feel his hot breath on my face.

“Andromeda,” he whispered reaching out to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear, “you have a natural beauty that I just long to touch.” He inched further forward, as I backed against the wall. “In a week, I’m leaving for Europe. I’d like something to remember you by
”

There was no place for me to go. He continued to lean in closer, trapping me against the cold stone.

“I can’t, Dravel!” I said, turning my face and pulling as far away from his grasp as possible. “There are rules I must follow.”

Anger and frustration played across his features. I tensed, hoping that he would not use me as an outlet for his feelings. However, after a moment’s hesitation he obviously came to some sort of conclusion. A malevolent grin replaced his volatile features as he trailed a finger down my face. “See that you stick to them, Andromeda. I’ll see that others stay away
”

With a last glance, he strode away, leaving me in the empty room.


~.~

From that day on, even though Dravel had left the school, very few Slytherin males had attempted to court me. The Fordonuses were a powerful family, and Dravel was one of the last remaining heirs. Dravel had staked a claim and made it clear I was not to be touched.

If occasionally someone stepped over the line, his brother or his cousins, the Lestranges, would make sure that person was dealt with. By the end of my fourth year, everyone had gotten it into their heads that I was out of bounds. As my fifth year drew to a close, people still steered clear, but began to forget why. Andromeda Black was forbidden, no further questions.

It seemed that I too had almost forgotten why. After all, Dravel’s return had always seemed like it was so far away; distant, almost like a dream rather than a possible reality. The note had brought him back into my immediate future. It was so sudden that I felt completely shocked. It was as though ice had begun to run through my veins.

Take the note, go to your dormitory and write him back a nice letter, instructed the voice. Tell him you are well and how thoughtful the rose was. Speak of your family and connections


I tried to do what the voice commanded, but my feet refused to move. The rose filled my vision. Examining it from all sides, I struggled to find its beauty. To anyone else, the rose would have been exquisite, but the only thing I could see was red. This rose was my future, yet, I longed to smash it into pieces, throw it to the ground, and stomp on it until it was nothing more than a pulp.

I wished it was a sunflower, I realised. No matter how many people looked down on sunflowers or saw them as simple, I’d take it over a rose any day. A rose had a sort of beauty and class that drew you in at first, but they were full of thorns underneath and didn’t care whom they caused to bleed. Sunflowers weren’t like that. They were exactly as they appeared, and lived to add a little brightness to an otherwise dark world.

Yet, flowers that grew in the shade had to share their garden beds with roses, for what other choices did they have? No matter how much they longed to join the sunflowers in the sun, it simply was not possible, as they would be burnt to a crisp. Flowers that grew in the shade should stay in the shade where they belong; not fantasizing about growing next to sunflowers. Some things were just impossible.

Finally dragging my eyes away from the rose, I tried to imagine my future, but found that I couldn’t. It was the same feeling as that day when I broke the paperweight, but much stronger and deeper. I felt as though I was drowning, and no matter how hard I pulled at the tide, it didn’t make a difference.

I had always known I would marry someone that I probably wouldn’t have deep feelings for, and I had resigned myself to that fate. All my life, I had watched my mother and father, a couple that was not particularly in love. They seemed to get on fine, my father keeping to his own business, my mother to hers. I had resigned myself to that fate and told myself I would be happy with it. After all, it was just something in the far future, something I would not have to face for a long time.

Yet, the appearance of rose suddenly made it more real, more solid. It was as though something that had only been written on paper had just been carved into stone. The ideas of marriage and a husband was no longer just a distant thought, but something that had a name and face. There was nothing in the world I could do to change it.

Change it? Change what? You should be rejoicing in the possibilities that a man of such status is interested in you


Two voices joined the one already present in my head. Both called out to me, one bright like the sunflower, the other full of sophistication, like the rose.

See that you stick to them, Andromeda


I want you to know that you are something more than you thought you were


Andromeda, stop these senseless thoughts at once. Return to your dormitory, pick up a quill and write back to him immediately


The voices became louder. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on which was which. I covered my ears, but it was no use. They began to overlap, until I could no longer tell them apart.

I would like something to remember you by


I want that person to be your future


Tell him that the rose was simply perfect...

The voices were getting louder, as though competing for attention, until all I could hear was my own name.

Andromeda


Dromeda


ANDROMEDA!

“Andromeda!” Narcissa called, waving her hand at me to come over. The voices went quiet. In fact, all my thoughts and feelings seemed to disappear at once. It was as though someone had simply picked up their wand and Vanished everything. After all the shock and confusion I had been feeling, it was a relief.

Feeling numb, I slowly made my way to the wall that concealed the entrance to the common room. No one asked where I was going, and I was glad about it. In my current state I doubted that I would even be able to reply.

It had to be past curfew, but I didn’t care. I walked for fifteen minutes unsure of where I was going, but I didn’t run into anyone. The numbness enveloped me as I walked down corridor after corridor. For the first time in weeks, my head was blissfully quiet.

It felt good to be numb and unthinking. Living like this would be easy, I decided. It would be everything my family and my future husband would want. Dimly, I was aware that the numbness would not help, that the feelings would come back stronger and more painful than before. But I was happy. Feeling numb made everything so much better.

As I predicted, the numb feeling didn’t last. I stumbled into an empty classroom, and the feelings came back like a wave crashing over my head, threatening to pull me under.

At first I was angry; I knocked over a pile of books stacked neatly on a table and threw one at the wall. I yelled incoherently, not caring if anyone heard. I didn’t know where the anger came from, and didn’t know where to direct it towards. I just knew that I was angry and I needed an outlet. Ted’s face swam into my mind.

Screaming, I cursed Ted for making me believe I could control my destiny, because it hit so much harder when I realised that I couldn’t. I hated him for giving me a glimpse of hope. I hated him, because up until I had met him, I had been happy with my life and what was planned for me. I hated him because I had accepted everything and I didn’t long for something else. I hated him for allowing me to believe I could be something more.

I hated myself because I knew that I didn’t hate Ted at all.

“What on earth are you doing? Keep your control!” screamed the voice that had returned with my emotions.

That was when the sadness hit. I knew that nothing I could ever do would change my future. It had been set since the moment of my birth. I could see it all clearly now, playing out before my eyes. Dravel would talk to my parents, who would be delighted. They would give him their consent and he would court me until I finished school. We would be engaged after I graduated, and then, after a few months, we would marry in a formal ceremony with anyone my family considered important in attendance. My thoughts paused at the thought of my wedding night. It wasn’t something I cared to envision.

Even if I refused Dravel, I knew there would be someone else to take his place. I would have to accept one eventually, as that was what was expected of me. I could marry whoever I liked, as long as they fitted the Council’s criteria. Even so, the pressure would be so intense to accept Dravel that I knew I would give in.

Sinking to the floor, I began to sob. I wanted to believe I could change what I saw, but it was all I knew. I sobbed because I knew that even thinking about trying to change things was not allowed. Each sob racked through me as confusion crowded my brain. Despite not wanting what the future held, I didn’t want to abandon my family. They were the only thing I knew, and I loved them. That made it so much harder. I cried, until I couldn’t see anything but tears.

I wasn’t sure when I became aware of the fact that someone was beside me, their arm around my shoulders, comforting me. They were whispering in my ear, but I could not make out anything but the kind tone.

“Always keep your control,” the voice yelled inside my head, contrasting to the kind voice beside me. “How dare you show this person your weakness? Control yourself and leave before you do any more damage.”

The voice only made me cry harder. The unknown person tightened their grip on my shoulders as I buried my face in their chest. I knew that I was breaking a rule, and that I should attempt to salvage myself by moving away from the person, but I was glad they were there. I lifted my head to look at my unknown rescuer.

It was Ted Tonks.