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.