Very few things in Andromeda’s life came as a surprise. She was a Black, after all, and Blacks were known for their resistance to change at the best of times. She was raised “ trained, really “ to uphold the family customs, the House of Black, above all else, and so far she was doing a fair job of it. Bella was wild and Cissy was pretty, and Andromeda comfortably occupied the place of the unobtrusive, compliant middle sister.
She could keep up appearances with the best of them. The green and silver trim of her robes indicated that she had not broken her family’s Slytherin tradition, and though her uniform was standard, her expensive boots and delicate goblin-wrought jewelry were a sure sign of the Black fortune. Notes on all things magical peppered the glossy pages of her spell books, and Muggle Studies and Divination were nowhere to be found on her timetable. Of course, she kept a healthy distance from certain unsavory classmates, particularly (but not limited to) the large Mudblood population, though admittedly this was more to avoid trouble with her older sister than because of any deep-seated ideology.
She’d gotten a slight shock the previous summer when her Hogwarts letter included the shiny Prefect badge that was now pinned to her robe; Black women weren’t supposed to be smart, after all. They were supposed to make respectable pure-blood marriages and give birth to respectable pure-blood sons (though Andromeda thought “respectable” was a matter of opinion “ her father’s parents had been no more than children when they married, and Aunt Walburga had opted for a husband so closely related that she didn’t even have to change her surname). Mother had pursed her lips and said nothing, and Father shook his head. Bella sneered, though Andromeda assumed her displeasure had more to do with her hatred of Dumbledore, whose rules Andromeda had meticulously followed. Still, a Prefect pin hardly besmirched the family name, and the news of Bella’s betrothal to Rodolphus Lestrange had followed quickly enough to deflect any mutterings from the rest of the family about the impropriety of the Black girls.
No, Andromeda led a very predictable existence. But one year ago, as she sat, just as she was now, in the year’s first Prefect meeting, all that had been turned on its head when she first saw him.
Her stomach, much to her annoyance, did a flip as his face appeared unbidden in her mind. She tried hard to avoid looking at the real thing, but she knew from experience that he would make this task difficult. Sure enough, as soon was the meeting was adjourned, he wasted no time in chasing her down.
“Hey! Andromeda!” he shouted as she tried her best to run away. She didn’t stop, but long fingers found her wrist, and she was trapped. She turned.
“What?” she sighed.
“Had a good summer?”
She couldn’t help it; though she recognized danger, she looked up at him, right into his twinkling eyes.
“What does it matter to you, Tonks?” she asked with a carefully arched brow (a useful trick she’d learned from Narcissa).
“Well you’ve gone so long without laying eyes on me,” he answered impishly. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss me too much.”
“Oh, well, if that’s all,” she scoffed, trying to pull away.
“You haven’t answered my question. How was your summer?”
“I have work to do,” she snapped.
“Then you’d better come up with something quick.”
He was grinning widely now.
“Fine! It was fine.”
“You can do better than that.”
“Alright, I read a book,” she said impatiently.
“Which one?” he asked, genuinely curious. What a Ravenclaw.
“How to Hex Irritating Classmates Until They Can’t See Straight,” she told him. “Can I go now?”
He laughed his big joyful laugh, and she had to concentrate hard on her angry expression lest it break.
“That’s more like it,” he said, letting go of her wrist.
She turned away from him, enjoying the lingering warmth from him fingers, then she silently cursed him all the way back to her Common Room.
Ted Tonks was easily the most wonderful and most aggravating thing in Andromeda’s life. He was the seventh-year Ravenclaw Prefect, and he was funny, popular, and beautiful. And Muggle-born.
He was proud of it too, reading Muggle books and singing Muggle songs as he traipsed around the castles in jeans and worn-out trainers. Even when in uniform he was unkempt, and his schoolbag was full to bursting with crumpled parchments and broken quills “ utterly contrary to Andromeda’s pristine eagle feathers and magically color-coded notes.
All of this made her regard for him extremely problematic, and it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. She tried to deny her affection, even to herself, but he wasn’t fooled by her efforts. He made of a game of it, offering to help her study, winking at her across the Great Hall, and (worst of all) signing up for patrol duty with her. He wasn’t subtle about it either, despite the threat of Bella’s wrath. Andromeda’s natural shyness was no match for such buoyancy. She’d had to learn to fight back, but her only real teachers had been her sisters, whose haughty derision did little to win anyone over, and in Andromeda’s case, it didn’t even make Ted leave her alone.
He was going to get her into trouble. He wasn’t doing himself any favors either; trouble with the Black family rarely turned out well for anybody. Bellatrix and her menacing presence may have gone (she’d left school the previous year), but Cissy, who was just two years younger than Andromeda, was sharper than she led others to believe. She’d most certainly tattle at even the slightest sign of inappropriate Black behavior, and that would be the end of Andromeda and possibly Ted as well. So she kept up the charade, even when no one was around to see her slip.
Mother and Father were already working to secure her betrothal to Rabastan Lestrange, Bella’s new brother-in-law. Such a union would at least outstrip Orion and Walburga’s in respectability “ not that she would ever give voice to such an opinion. But he was such a cold man. She didn’t like his brother Rodolphus very much (though admittedly he suited Bella) and Rabastan seemed more of the same. They were all three deeply involved with the Dark Lord, and Bella wrote constantly to assure her that a marriage to Rabastan would be “most advantageous.” The thought unnerved Andromeda, and she frankly dreaded the match, trying hard not to think about lay ahead of her and instead focus on her final years of school. It never crossed her mind that she could refuse to marry him and choose a partner of her own; it was her duty, the thing she had been bred for, and she could not fail.
Her feelings for Ted, then, were mere infatuation. They had to be. She told herself this every night as she sank into bed, struggling to pinpoint exactly why. He was toying with her, she thought, young and awkward as she was, and he would eventually get bored and move on to the next girl. Maybe she liked the danger of it and enjoyed the rush (which was silly, Andromeda hated danger). Whatever the reason, their little dance had to end, and she would forget about him. The idea depressed her thoroughly, but it could be no other way. She would drop off to sleep hours later, still imagining his hand on her arm and his beautiful laugh.
Even to the Edge of Doom by Aldawen
Chapter Notes: I am borrowing from JKR. Don't sue me. (And the title is from Shakespeare's 116th sonnet.)