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Chapter Text

Bellatrix’s face was staring at her from the poster. 

‘What do you think?’ said Moody with a gruff chuckle. He rolled up the poster and tapped the round table with it. ‘She’s climbed up the ranks of Undesirables fast.’

Andromeda shivered. She had come to meet Moody at a safehouse belonging to the Order of the Phoenix – that was what Dumbledore had named his group of fighters – and the last thing she had expected to see was her sister’s face. Even though it was merely a wanted poster, and they had used a likeness rather than a photo, it was still an unnecessary reminder of what Narcissa had said in Diagon Alley. Moody, Eliza, and Professor Goldstein – as she still thought of him – were carefully monitoring her reaction as they sat around the dining table. 

‘What Moody wants to say is, she can’t go around in broad daylight anymore,’ said Eliza, who was sat next to her. She looked at Andromeda with a hesitant smile on her face. ‘So as long as you’re out during the day in a place where there’s other people, you’ll be safe. And there are already multiple protection charms around Flourish and Blotts.’

Eliza’s father, who had regained the use of both of his arms in the few days since his rescue and was now looking a little less gaunt, nodded. ‘Besides, I believe your sister won’t want to jeopardise her standing in Lord Voldemort’s eyes by carrying out an unsanctioned and risky attack on Diagon Alley.’

Moody grunted in agreement. ‘Our intelligence says the Lestranges have been wreaking havoc near the Scottish borders. Voldemort’s got his own plans and his own orders. They’ll be wanting to follow those.’

Andromeda exhaled in relief. ‘And what about Lucius?’

Professor Goldstein took a long sip of tea. ‘I’m afraid Abraxas Malfoy has far too much influence in the Ministry and the Council of Magical Law for his son’s face to be plastered on an Undesirable poster.’

‘I see.’

‘But you don’t think he would hurt you, isn’t that right?’ asked Eliza worriedly.

‘I’m far more worried about my sister. But it seems like I’ll be fine – for now, at least.’

Professor Goldstein nodded. ‘I believe so.’

Moody tapped the table with the rolled-up poster again. ‘Eliza here tells me that you’re going to train as a Healer.’

‘Yes. I’m hoping to start this year, and if not, next year.’

‘You told me Dumbledore would need a new spy,’ continued Moody, almost as if he hadn’t been interested in her answer at all. ‘But you said nothing about giving up the fight.’

Andromeda looked at Eliza, who smiled at her reassuringly. 

‘You don’t have to fight,’ said Eliza. 

‘I don’t know,’ Andromeda said, then swallowed. ‘I don’t think I’m much of a fighter.’

‘Nonsense,’ barked Moody. ‘Less talented wizards than you have signed up to join the Order.’

She thought back to her practicing dark magic with Lucius, the summer spent in Yorkshire learning how to fight with the Yaxleys, her duel with Rabastan. Then another image entered her mind, Rabastan’s cheek slashing open in the Slytherin common room. She remembered how she’d felt when she’d made him bleed. 

‘No,’ Andromeda said slowly, then shook her head, as if to declare her intentions to herself as well as Moody. ‘I don’t want to fight. I want to heal.’

Moody frowned, but Eliza’s father smiled and leant forward. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea,’ he said. He then looked at Moody pointedly, and the latter shrugged. 

‘I still want to help,’ said Andromeda, before Moody could speak. She looked at Eliza, then at Professor Goldstein, her heart thudding with purpose. ‘Really, anything I can do – I’ll do it.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ replied Professor Goldstein. ‘I’m certain we’ll still be in a war when you finish your Healer training. We’ll need your help then. I think you should concentrate on your studies in the meanwhile.’

Andromeda nodded. 

‘Well, I’ll just say this,’ Moody said, as he stood up to leave. There was a grin on his face. ‘Your Patronus always knows where to find me.’

After Eliza’s father retired to his room to rest, Andromeda was left alone with Eliza. 

‘I hope you don’t think I’m a coward,’ Andromeda said. 

‘I think you’ve proven that you’re not.’

The two friends smiled at each other, before Eliza reached out to put a hand on Andromeda’s shoulder. 

‘I’m here too, you know,’ she said. ‘If you need help, or anything.’

Andromeda blinked. ‘Help? Me?’

‘Yes.’ Eliza laughed. ‘Why do you sound so surprised?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose I’ve never thought of myself as needing help before.’

‘I’m not saying you’re not capable – no, of course not. But you’ve just run away from your family. You don’t have to pretend it’s easy.’

Andromeda didn’t know what to say. Instead, she covered her friend’s hand with her own and gave it a grateful squeeze. 

‘Ted always said you weren’t used to people being nice to you,’ Eliza said. 

’No, I’m really not.’

‘Well, you better start getting used to it.’

Andromeda let her eyes rest on her friend’s kind, playful face for a moment; as she did so, it seemed to release the cloudy thoughts in her mind that had recently been plaguing her. 

‘You look like you’ve got something on your mind,’ said Eliza. 

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Andromeda,’ Eliza said firmly, raising her eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me I have to wheedle it out of you. I’m going to make you tell me sooner or later, so you should tell me now.’

Andromeda smiled weakly at her friend before relenting. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ she said quietly. ‘I know that I’m free, now, that I can do what I like. But it feels like I suddenly have too much choice. Like there are too many possibilities and I know nothing about any of them. There’s no textbook for what to do when you run away from home.’

‘Perhaps you could write one.’ This made Andromeda laugh, but Eliza grew serious. ‘But really, that’s what we’re here for. What I’m here for. You don’t have to do it alone.’

Andromeda sighed; the poster of her sister still weighed heavy on her mind. ‘I can only hope to be deserving of your kindness.’

Eliza stared at her, then shook her head. ‘For someone who’s incredibly clever, Andromeda,’ she said, ‘you can be quite thick sometimes.’

‘Excuse me?’

Eliza laughed, then launched at herself at Andromeda, giving her a teasing little squeeze as she pulled her into a hug. ‘Of course you deserve it, you idiot,’ she said. ‘You’re a bloody good friend.’

*

But even with Eliza’s kind words, Andromeda found that some days were easier than others. Sometimes it was all too easy to be weighed down by the burdens of her former existence. She ventured outside once or twice, emboldened by what Moody and David Goldstein had said, but she still worried about the possibility of running into other family members – something was bound to bring her parents and Narcissa to Diagon Alley sooner or later even if they weren’t looking for her, and she didn’t want any unexpected encounters. It didn’t help that it was the summer; it was the time of year that made her think most of her childhood, of her family. She sent Sirius some letters but received no reply – she guessed that Walburga must be intercepting them and throwing them into the fireplace. While Eliza visited her every day and Ash made her endless cups of tea in between seeing to customers at the bookshop, Andromeda hadn’t seen Ted since that day she’d changed his bandages. She knew she couldn’t wish for anything more than a steady friendship, but she still missed him, wondering when or if he was going to turn up at the flat to see her again. Her mind seemed to constantly veer between optimism and pessimism, at once thinking that it was possible for them to return to what they’d once had, but also that she had broken things beyond repair, that he’d never be able to trust her again. Even looking to other things in the future was difficult: she didn’t have a blueprint to follow, not even a compass to point her in the right direction. Occupation of her mind and body was key, and so she ended up organising the entirety of Ash’s flat (with his permission), while trying to get a hold on those basic chores that she’d always had a house-elf do for her. 

Midsummer was the hardest. When she woke up that day, a week after her escape, she found that there was a kind of heavy darkness in her chest that weighed her down. It was a Monday, and she was alone in the flat. As she pulled on her dressing gown and made her way down to the kitchen, she felt more alone than she’d ever been since leaving Lucius. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of her, too, on the day that had once meant so much to them; she imagined Narcissa comforting him, Abraxas gloating over him, the guests of the ball whispering behind his back. As she made herself a cup of tea, however, other possibilities crossed her mind. Perhaps her ex-fiancé wasn’t at the ball and was instead spending time with Lord Voldemort and his followers, burying his humiliation and taking out his anger on those more helpless than him.

She sat at the kitchen table with her tea. She would usually read the Daily Prophet in the morning, but for some reason she couldn’t find it – perhaps Ash had taken it with him to the bookshop. Without her usual routine, she was filled with the urge to crawl back into bed again. As she stared into space, she quickly found that her thoughts were conspiring against her. They taunted her with images of Ted, what she’d done to him, how she’d betrayed him; a small voice in the back of her mind told her there was something wrong with her, twisted beyond repair, that she was undeserving of anything. Narcissa had been right, she would never be happy again – she would be unable to make her way in the world. She had gained her freedom, and yet she felt trapped in the purgatory of her own mind, the haunting shadows in her head tying her down and dragging her into the depths of darkness.

After about half an hour, however, which she spent staring into her orange mug as her thoughts tormented her, the doorbell rang. Reluctantly hauling herself up and wondering who could possibly be calling on a Monday morning, she waved her wand to open the downstairs door. She then opened the front door, wanting to get this interaction over with, whatever it was – but then frowned in surprise as she saw an unexpected houseguest coming up the stairs. 

‘Ted.’

‘Morning,’ he said. He was holding a glass container and had a copy of the Prophet tucked under his arm. 

‘What are you doing here? Has something happened?’ she asked, quickly fearing the worst. 

Ted, though, simply held out the glassware. ‘I made apple crumble,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’

She nodded and he followed her inside. 

‘I took the day off,’ said Ted, putting his things on the table and leaning against the counter.  

‘Why?’

‘It’s midsummer. I thought you might not want to be alone today.’

It took a moment for his words to sink in. She had thought, as she’d always done, that she had to carry the weight of the day alone. And Ted had come to prove her wrong once again. 

Still, though, she didn’t want to burden him. ‘It’s fine.’

He looked at her with those piercing brown eyes of his. ‘Andromeda,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t have to be fine.’

She looked away and picked up Ted’s copy of the Daily Prophet from where it lay on the kitchen table. 

‘I haven’t read it yet,’ he said, as he watched her flick through it. ‘But don’t change the subject –’

Andromeda, however, almost dropped the newspaper as she turned the page. Bellatrix’s face glared up at her from the page, plastered under a headline that read MUGGLE MURDERS CAUSE MAYHEM IN ROXBURGH. 

Ted peered at the paper over her shoulder, then snatched it out of her hands as soon as he realised what it said. 

‘You don’t need to look at that,’ he said. 

Andromeda retreated to the sofa and collapsed onto it. 

‘I’m a coward,’ she said. 

‘Andromeda –’

‘Narcissa was right to call me one. I’ve left Bellatrix out there, and she’s worse than ever. I should’ve told Moody I would fight for him.‘

Ted walked over to her and crouched in front of the sofa. He placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Forget Bellatrix,’ he said firmly. ‘Forget your sisters. Eliza said Moody was perfectly happy with your decision to train as a Healer. Not all of us were meant to be fighters. I’m certainly not.’

‘At least you tried.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘What matters is that you’re safe.’

She turned the words over in her mind, as if they were a smooth pebble she’d picked up on a beach. She didn’t believe it – there were so many things that mattered more than her. She looked up at Ted; he was looking at her intently, seriously, as if challenging her to accept his words. 

Unsure if she could, she glanced to the kitchen table instead. ‘You said you brought crumble.’

‘Yeah. Want to try it?’

She nodded and he stood up, rummaging around in the kitchen for a bowl and a spoon. He popped open the container and spooned the crumble into the bowl for her. She could smell it – it was still warm – and the custard had been heaped on thick. 

‘How’s that? Too much?’

Andromeda shook her head and gratefully took the bowl. Truth be told, she didn’t have much of an appetite. But Ted’s presence and the fact that he’d taken the day off to visit her dissipated the darkness that weighed her down a little – just enough for her to pick up the spoon and start eating. He watched as she took a small bite. It wasn’t as sweet as she thought it’d be; the crumble was thick, as was the custard, but the tartness of the apple made sure it wasn’t cloying. 

‘It’s good,’ she said, and she pushed her spoon into the bowl again for more.

Smiling in relief, Ted made a cup of tea for himself and sat down on the sofa next to her. The only sounds in the room were the clinking of her spoon and the slurping of Ted’s tea. 

She finished eating quickly and put the bowl down on the coffee table. 

‘Thank you. That was lovely.’

‘I’m glad. I don’t usually bake,’ he added, and Andromeda thought she could see the faintest of blushes on his cheeks. ‘But I thought I should bring something – and my mum gave me the recipe.’

‘I appreciate it. Everything you do for me.’

Ted shrugged, as if it were nothing. ‘Here,’ he said, his gaze flickering down to her mouth. ‘You’ve got –’ He leant forward and wiped some crumble off the edge of her mouth with his thumb. ‘Mm,’ he said, licking it. He sounded impressed. ‘Not bad.’

Andromeda tried to ignore the warmth she felt on the spot he’d touched her. ‘I told you it was good. It’s not too sweet; I prefer it that way.’

‘Good.’

He smiled at her, but the clouds in her mind were darkening again, and she looked down. 

‘Eliza said you’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed,’ Ted said. 

‘I get a little sad sometimes, that’s all. Especially since it’s the summer –’ she stopped. She didn’t want to talk about Lucius in front of him.

Ted shifted closer to her, sensing her reluctance. ‘You can talk to me about anything.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘It hurts me to know you’re hurting,’ he said simply. ‘If I can make it hurt less for you, all the better for me.’

‘It hurts less when you’re here with me.’

He reached out to gently cup her cheek. Andromeda covered his hand with her own, holding it there as if it were a lifeline. She closed her eyes, feeling the rough skin of his hand. 

‘The summer reminds me of my childhood,’ she said; she wanted to keep her words vague, to avoid mentioning Lucius. ‘It makes me sad, thinking about being a child. We – all of us, I mean – thought we were invincible, and yet all the world did was hurt us. It turned us into monsters.’

‘You’re not a monster.’

‘Perhaps not,’ she said, then sighed. Another thought had crossed her mind. ‘Narcissa said I’d never be happy,’ she said, finally.

‘Then you’ve got to prove her wrong.’

‘I don’t know if I can.’

‘Eating crumble’s a good way to start.’

She smiled despite herself. ‘I suppose it is.’

‘And we can think about other things together.’

‘Like what?’

‘What books you’re going to start reading when Winterberry inevitably lets you into the Healer training course,’ he said with a smile. ‘Or what order you think Ash keeps his books in. Or,’ he added, voice low and teasing, ‘you could think about me.’

His easy flirtatious manner put her on edge; she tried hard to stop the little flutter she felt in her heart. When she realised she couldn’t, she started to worry. She had to put a pin in it, she thought, before her feelings got carried away. 

‘Ted,’ she said. ‘I think you already know that I think about you all the time.’ She swallowed. ‘When you take the day off to come and visit me with apple crumble, or you put your hand on my cheek – you must know how that makes me feel about you.’ This next part might hurt, she knew, but she had to get it over with: ‘So if you don’t feel the same way about me, I think you should stop. That way we can just be friends.’

Ted looked down. He looked like he was either deep in thought or trying to work up the courage to say something. 

‘I feel the same way about you,’ he said, finally, and Andromeda felt her heart start to race. ‘But you hurt me – we hurt each other – and I’m scared of that happening again.’ She nodded, unable to say anything, willing him to continue quickly. ‘I think about you all the time too. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I can’t stop myself. But I don’t – I don’t know if I can do this.’ He let out a deep breath, blowing his hair out of his eyes. ‘It’s bloody indecisive of me, I know. But we started as friends. Maybe we can start there again?’

Andromeda nodded slowly. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t disappointed – but but the admission of his feeling put a little spring in her heart. ‘That would be nice,’ she replied, and she meant it. 

Ted smiled and leant back on the sofa. ‘Have you been outside today? It’s lovely out there.’

‘I haven’t. I was feeling a little melancholy, and I’m still a little wary of running into Narcissa or my parents.’

‘I see.’

Ted’s gaze on her, sad and kind, reminded her of when they’d first become friends, when he’d looked at her as if she were a caged bird. It stirred something inside her, that same feeling that had led her to assert that she wasn’t, in fact, caged at all. She had been wrong then – of course she had, she had been wrong about so many things – but with a sharp clarity she realised that it was now Ted who was in the wrong.

‘Let’s go outside,’ she said suddenly. 

Ted did a double-take. ‘What?’

‘I’m not caged anymore.’ She stood up and laughed. ‘I can go anywhere I like.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ted got up slowly from the sofa, his brows creasing into a frown. ‘I don’t want you to be in any danger.’

Andromeda shrugged. ‘Let them come for me. I’m sick of being scared.’ She remembered what she’d said to Narcissa, that anything that happened to her would be worth it for her freedom – and now she needed to make those words come true. ‘I want to see the sun.’

*

A few days later, there was another incident that lifted her spirits – Andromeda received a reply from Joanna Winterberry telling her that she would be happy to accept Andromeda into the Healer training program, to start in September. 

‘Good thing I know you deserve it,’ Eliza had commented wryly. ‘Otherwise I’d be having a fit about nepotism. Actually, I still might.’

In the end, the question of how to remake her life was answered quite easily: since she could afford it, she decided to spend the rest of the summer relaxing, and spent most of her days studying in preparation for her training at St. Mungo’s or exploring. Though at first she tried to stick to crowds and still had to hurry home as soon as it got dark, the fact that she hadn’t seen her family in Diagon Alley yet put her mind at ease, and the long summer days meant that she had ample time to expand her world. She had never been to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, for example (much to the astonishment of Eliza and Ash), as her family distrusted him, and was pleased to find herself in good company. The only shop she staunchly avoided was Quality Quidditch Supplies, as she knew her old house-mate Victoria Runcorn worked there. 

What surprised her most during her explorations was how interesting other people were; she had been used to dismissing or ignoring people all her life, but the people she met always turned out to have hidden depths, and she found herself enjoying being in the company of others. She met Eliza’s parents over a friday night dinner at Eliza’s flat – simultaneously jealous and in awe of Eliza for having such kind parents – while Ted sometimes took her to the Leaky Cauldron, where he would have a drink on a weekend afternoon with the group he called ‘Benjy’s lot’: Benjy, Josephine, and the McKinnon siblings, as well as Eliza and some others (Ash, who didn’t like large gatherings, usually preferred to stay at home). These occasions were far more intimidating for Andromeda, who regularly sat at the edge of the table without saying much. Josephine and Benjy were civil enough, but she could never quite get over the time they’d accused her of being a pureblood supremacist – they’d never apologised for it. She found a better friend in Marlene McKinnon, who had been in the year below them at Hogwarts and was impressed that Andromeda could conjure a corporeal Patronus; apparently none of the young new Order recruits had managed it yet, with the exception of Eliza. Andromeda could tell that Eliza clearly had a bit of a thing for Marlene, and she couldn’t help but tease her about it afterwards over some Wizard’s Brew. 

She slowly rebuilt her friendship with Ted again, too, just as they’d agreed, first spending time with each other in the company of other friends, then meeting up, just the two of them, usually to go on a walk during Ted’s lunch hour in West London. She would meet him outside his workplace near Holland Park and they would walk down together into the park, sitting on a bench if the weather was good, going into a Muggle café if it wasn’t. She asked questions and listened carefully, wanting to fill her life with his; she wanted to know all the details of his job, what Muggle politics was like, how his siblings were doing back in Manchester. He often asked her to change his bandages, too, and Andromeda enjoyed the easy way with which he would slip off his shirt and show his shoulder to her, the movements becoming routine to them as the days progressed.

One day, though, on a cloudy Monday where the humidity was making Andromeda’s light blue dress stick to her skin, she turned up to find Ted leaning against the railing with a cigarette in his hand. She frowned – he had previously told her he’d quit. When he spotted her he made no move to hide it, instead taking another leisurely drag before dropping the stub and putting it out with the heel of his foot. 

‘I thought you stopped smoking,’ she said, as they began their usual walk to the park. 

Ted shrugged. ‘The day called for it. Or the weekend did.’

‘What happened?’

There was a long silence, filled only by the distant echo of children playing somewhere, laughing and shouting.

‘I was in Manchester,’ said Ted finally. 

She nodded, not wanting to say too much – she knew he had always preferred not to talk about his home life with her. Whether out of stoicism or embarrassment she couldn’t tell, but she remembered how nervous he’d been when she’d visited him. 

‘I thought –’ he said slowly, as if prompted by her silence. ‘I was going to cut my dad out of my life. Stop giving him money. He seemed OK about it last time we talked – I saw him just after I finished Hogwarts.’ Ted stuck another cigarette in his mouth and lit it, taking a deep drag. ‘But when I was home over the weekend, my mum told me that he’d come ‘round asking her for money instead. It’s not the first time it’s happened, mind, and she wasn’t too bothered,’ he added. ‘But Roger – my step-dad, I mean – was dead pissed. Said it was my fault, that I had a responsibility to stop my dad from bothering my mum.’

‘But it’s not your fault,’ Andromeda said.

‘That’s not what Roger thought,’ he said with a grimace. He took another drag of his cigarette, turning his head away from her to blow smoke into the humid air. ‘So anyway, it’s back to square one. Didn’t help that my mum let slip that I send her money – I don’t mind doing that, obviously – but my dad thought it wasn’t fair that he wasn’t getting his bit too.’

‘That seems awfully unreasonable.’

‘He’s a drunk and a gambler. I could threaten him, maybe hex him or something – but at the end of the day, he’s my dad, isn’t he?’

They reached the bench in Holland Park that had become their regular lunching venue. She sat down; Ted stubbed out his cigarette before joining her. 

He glanced at her. ‘I think get it now,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s hard to cut family out of your life. Malfoy was like your family too.’

‘Yes.’ She paused, not wanting to steer the conversation towards herself, then said: ‘It’s very kind and generous of you, what you do for your family.’

‘I don’t feel kind and generous, I feel annoyed and exploited. And I feel bad for feeling that way.’

‘I didn’t just mean towards your father. I meant your mother – you’re doing it to protect her. And you should let yourself be angry,’ she added. ‘It doesn’t make you any worse of a son. In fact, they should think themselves lucky to have you.’

Ted didn’t say anything, but sighed, seeming to calm down a little as he took out his lunch. They ate their sandwiches in silence. Andromeda looked at Ted; he was gazing at the park-goers in the distance. The benches across the path were dotted with adults – there were those, like them, who had sat down with a packed lunch, as well as elderly people who sat chatting or reading newspapers. But what Ted seemed to be looking at were the groups of children that ran around on the green – summers, thought Andromeda, really belonged to children. It had been that way for her too. The children in the park chased each other or flopped on the grass as they did handstands and cartwheels, their faces alternately laughing or frowning, caught up in whatever epic drama was unfolding in their little worlds. 

‘Do you ever think,’ Ted said suddenly, ‘that all of this is pointless?’

Andromeda looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at those kids. They look happy now, but all they’re going to see when they grow up is a cruel world with its harsh realities.’

She laughed. ‘Isn’t that what I said the other day?’

Ted, though, remained serious. ‘Sometimes I think you were right.’

Andromeda studied him. He was feeling melancholy today; she knew what that was like. But she knew, too, that there were ways to make it a little more bearable, as Ted always did with her.

‘Is that all you see when you look at the world?’ she asked. ‘Harsh realities?’

‘Sorry,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘I’m just in a bad mood today.’

‘I know how it feels.’

‘I see Mr. Benn in parliament,’ continued Ted, ‘trying to make the world a better place – and he fights really hard, I respect him – but at the end of the day, can he really make a difference? He’s just one bloke. Can he really change the lives of people like my family?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ she said slowly. ‘But if we don’t try, we don’t have anything at all. You taught me that.’  

He studied her for a whole, his expression inscrutable, but then he glanced at the children playing on the grass again. ‘It’s weird, seeing kids. I know I shouldn’t say it, but it seems selfish, bringing a child into a world like this. Sometimes it feels like Dumbledore’s people are fighting a losing war. And what’s going to happen to these kids then?’

‘I understand that,’ she replied, as Ted crumpled up the paper bag that had held his sandwiches. ‘But I understand why people have children, too.’

He looked up at her.

‘I think it’s rather defiant. It’s saying that you believe in the future – that you believe there will be a future worth living for. That you’re not letting the weight of the past wear you down.’ She smiled. ‘Or perhaps I just understand the selfish urge to procreate because I’m selfish, too.’

He laughed, then looked back at the children again. ‘Have you ever thought about kids?’ 

She blinked. ‘As in, having them? I don’t know. I suppose I always assumed it would happen sooner or later.’

‘I guess that makes sense.’

‘It’s what I was born to do, according to my mother.’ She hesitated, unsure where this was going. ‘What about you?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t think I should.’

‘What?’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s –’

‘That’s what?’ he turned to her, and suddenly there was a wide grin on his face. ‘Do you think I’m so incredibly clever and handsome that it’s ludicrous of me not to procreate and pass it on?’

She blushed. As a matter of fact it was exactly what she’d been thinking.

‘Thanks,’ Ted said, but then the smile on his face dissipated, like a tide withdrawing from a shore. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘When I look at my family, my dad, I don’t know. It makes me think that I’ll be a shit dad, too. They fuck you up, your mum and dad.’

‘Don’t I know the feeling,’ she replied with a bitter laugh. It was something she’d been fighting her whole life. But when she looked at Ted again, she realised that he’d filled her life with possibility. Here was living proof, she thought, that things could be different. ‘If there’s anyone who can be a good father without having had one, it’s you,’ she said firmly. Ted looked up, a little surprised at her forceful tone, but she went on. ‘I think you’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met.’

He stared at her, then let out a short laugh. ‘Thanks. I don’t get that a lot.’

‘I need to tell you that more often, then.’

They held each other’s gazes. For a brief moment Ted looked at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world, and she had to look away, embarrassed. 

‘Anyway,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘That was an interesting hypothetical exercise.’

‘Yep,’ replied Ted quickly. ‘That it was. Don’t know why I thought of it.’

‘No.’

There was an awkward little silence. 

‘Still, though,’ Ted said. ‘What you said about defiance – about having hope in the world –’

‘What about it?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘But I think you’re extraordinary, too. You’ve gone through so much and still come out the other end in one piece.’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ she said. ‘But if I have, then it’s only thanks to you. I don’t know if it’s possible for one person to change many people’s lives,’ she continued slowly. ‘But you certainly changed mine for the better.’

Ted mussed up his hair; Andromeda could see that he’d grown a little pink. ‘Stop talking like that,’ he muttered. ‘Or I’ll –’

‘You’ll what?’

He shook his head, and there was the faintest of smiles on his lips as he looked at her. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘What?’ she repeated, curious.

He laughed, then jumped off the bench and held out his hand to pull her up, making Andromeda’s heart skip a beat as she took it. ‘I think you might find out soon enough,’ he said.  

*

Despite the charms of her new life, however, the shadows of the war cast themselves deeper and deeper on her friends. Eliza saw her parents less and less frequently. Professor Goldstein was now in hiding, under the protection of the Fidelius Charm, and Eliza’s mother soon joined him. Eliza didn’t know where they were – their secret-keeper was Moody, for safety – and didn’t even have a way of contacting them. Instead she always had to wait for them to send her a Patronus. Even though she tried to stay cheerful about it, Andromeda could see that her friend constantly worried about her parents, longing to hear from them and looking up whenever she thought she saw something that could be her father’s owl Patronus. Worst still was the fact that Lucius had apparently taken his anger out on Ash’s family. Ash spent most of July looking incredibly worried, and when Andromeda finally cajoled the truth out of him with some Eliza-inspired wheedling, she learnt that Ash’s father had been frozen out of his usual contracts by the Malfoys – and as a result he was working around the clock just to keep his business afloat. The guilt Andromeda felt was terrible, even when Ash tried to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. Sometimes she wondered if her previous life was going to haunt her as long as she lived.  

The Daily Prophet, too, was a steady a harbinger of doom, harping on about the dead and missing. Even though Eliza pointed out that it was a ploy to criticise the Ministry, either to jolt it into action or have it change its leadership, Andromeda still felt a sense of dread every time she read the news, fearing she’d see her sister’s face in it again. Still, though, she had to keep reading; it was the least she could do. She was itching to get started with her Healer training – at least, she thought, it would make her feel that she was helping people.

One particular Saturday after a week particularly full of disappearances, Benjy rounded everyone up for a small party in an upstairs room at the pub, complete with a local band. He’d kept on organising drinks at the Leaky Cauldron for the sake of morale, and it surprised Andromeda to see that, whatever had happened that week, people turned up consistently – she supposed no-one wanted to feel alone. This occasion was, nominally, his own birthday, but everyone knew it was just an excuse to gather together. They all went along, including Ash – there was no-one who couldn’t do without a bit of merriment in their lives. Andromeda, wearing a lavender dress that she’d bought while shopping with Eliza, sat with Ash in a corner of the room, sipping firewhisky as they watched the others dance and chatter. She enjoyed being in the room but preferred familiar company. She had never been to a party like this before, and the sight of the dancing made her think of the countless balls she’d had to attend since she was young. She briefly wondered how she’d ended up here, not in the glitz and glamour of a marble-floored ballroom but the warm glow of a room above a pub, the floor sticky with ghosts of past drinks and the band playing music she didn’t recognise. It didn’t matter, she thought. What mattered was that she was here now. 

After an hour or two of relaxed chatter with Ash and some other people – including, most surprisingly, Josephine, who came to ask Ash about a radio programme but ended up staying to have an enjoyable argument with Andromeda about the best hexes – Eliza came dancing up to them. She remained standing as she took a long drink of water, before putting the glass down on the table with a not-so-gentle thump. 

‘You’re not dancing?’ she asked, her cheeks aglow with the exuberance of alcohol and dancing. ‘I know you don’t dance, Ashwin, but Andromeda – surely you know how.’

The music the band was playing was fast and unfamiliar. ‘I don’t think I know how to dance to this kind of music,’ she said. 

Eliza laughed and held out her hand. ‘Let me show you.’

‘I might need some more firewhisky before I say yes,’ replied Andromeda, but then Josephine handed her a shot glass.

‘There you go,’ Josephine said with a grin. ‘Now show us your moves.’

Andromeda knocked back the firewhisky, then took Eliza’s hand and stood up, the alcohol already making her buzz. 

She let her friend lead her into the crowd of dancers. At first she stood there alternately swaying and hopping, trying to imitate Eliza’s carefree movements and feeling a little silly. As she turned her head, she saw Ted watching her from the other side of the room and immediately felt self-conscious, wanting to sit back down; but then Eliza grabbed her hand, making her look at her instead. 

‘It’s just you, me and the dance-floor,’ Eliza whispered in her ear, and soon they were twirling and jumping and swinging together, making Andromeda laugh with pleasure. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the music. She wanted to savour these moments where her life felt good – where she didn’t have to worry, or analyse, or plan. She could just be.  

When she finally left to return to her table to sit down and have some water, Eliza grinned at her. 

‘You danced for ages!’

‘I didn’t!’ she protested, but then glanced at the clock. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I did.’

Eliza waved her away and Andromeda went to sit down – having had her previous seat taken by Marlene, who was deep in conversation with Ash, she found another table instead and took the opportunity to drink some much-needed glasses of water. She gulped them down, wondering if water always tasted this good. She’d started to sober up a little and was even considering grabbing some more shots of firewhisky when Ted came over to her and sat next to her. 

‘Having fun?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t know I was capable of it,’ she replied honestly. 

He laughed. ‘It’s a shame the band can’t play the posh music you’re used to,’ he said. ‘Then you could finally show me how to dance in a ballroom properly.’ 

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a very overrated skill.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

She looked him up and down then a sudden boldness overtook her. She stood up, holding out her hand. ‘Come on, then.’

‘Isn’t it the wrong kind of music?’ 

‘That doesn’t mean I can’t show you.’

Ted grinned and took her hand; she didn’t bother taking him to the other dancers, but arranged their bodies as they stood in their little corner of the room, entwining their hands and placing his arm around her waist before holding his. 

‘Like this,’ she said, and Ted looked down to follow her steps. ‘One two three, one two three.’

‘One two three, one two three,’ he repeated, and they made tiny circles as they danced, completely out of time with the music that was playing in the room. His brow was so furrowed in concentration that it made Andromeda laugh. When he stepped on her foot he threw his hands up, laughing and shaking his head. 

‘It’s too bloody hard.’

‘You were quite good at it.’

‘If you’re being nice instead of making fun of me, I must’ve been terrible.’

She smiled, but pulled him back towards her, this time putting her arms around his neck. ‘All right then,’ she said. ‘This should be a little easier.’

‘What do I do?’

‘Hold me,’ she replied simply, and he put his arms around her waist. Her own audacity surprised her, but perhaps she only needed the excuse of being a little tipsy to reach out for what she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she still wanted. 

She closed her eyes and leant her head against Ted’s chest. 

‘This is nice,’ he murmured. 

‘It is,’ she replied. She could still hear the music pounding in the background, but it somehow seemed muffled, as if she and Ted were floating further away from it, unanchored except to each other. 

After a while – she didn’t know how long – she looked up at him, blushing a little as she realised he’d been watching her this whole time. He leant down, just a little, and she stood on tiptoes, her heart beating fast –

‘Ow!’

Andromeda fell into Ted as someone stumbled into her from behind, splashing her with Wizard’s Brew; she spun around as a drunk boy she didn’t recognise lurched away from her. 

‘Sorry, sorry!’ he half-laughed, half-mumbled, and then looked her up and down and whistled. ‘Well done, Tonks,’ he said with a smirk.

‘Piss off, Giles,’ Ted replied leisurely.  

’She looks good from the front as she does from behind.’

Ted opened his mouth to retaliate, but Andromeda was faster. 

‘Absisto!’

Before she could even stop herself she had hurled Giles away from her, hard, his pint glass shattering as his body was slammed against the wall. The music came to a sudden stop. Everyone in the room craned their heads to see what had happened. Another boy darted out from the dance-floor and ran over to Giles, helping him up to his feet. Andromeda stood there, frozen in shock at what she’d done, her wand still raised. 

After a moment, she felt her wand being plucked out of her hand. She looked up to see Ted tucking her wand away under his arm as he turned back to the room. 

‘All right, all right,’ he said; his voice felt unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. ‘Nothing to see here. Giles was just being a prick again, that’s all.’

There were a few laughs, then the music started up again, but Andromeda felt a sense of unease overcome her. What Giles said had washed away her previous carefree resolve, taking her back to a time she’d rather forget. The parallels between the party and her fancy balls did nothing to help her thoughts from going to the darkest nooks of her mind. 

‘Merlin’s beard,’ said the other boy, helping a limping Giles walk to a chair. ‘What was that for?’

‘Beats me,’ replied Giles, glaring at Andromeda and Ted as he passed them by. He turned to his friend. ‘How come all the Muggle-borns get the good-looking girls?’ he asked loudly. 

His friend laughed. ‘If you ask me, they should spend more time practicing spells and less time chasing after magical girls.’

Instinctively Andromeda reached for her wand again – but she remembered that Ted had taken her wand. She glanced at him; he had curled his fists up into balls. 

‘Ted,’ she began, but he ignored her and strode out onto the balcony. She followed him to the deck that overlooked the courtyard of the inn. The sky had remained a gentle blue despite the fading sun – it was summer, after all. 

Ted was leaning against the railings, looking down at the people in the courtyard. He held out her wand to her as she approached. 

‘He deserved it,’ he muttered. ‘But I didn’t want you to do something you might regret. He’s not worth it.’

‘Thanks.’ She took her wand back before looking at Ted again. He didn’t say anything, but she watched as his brows creased in frustration. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked quietly. 

He shrugged. ‘What can you do? I could shoot a spell at them, like you did – but then they’d insult me for being a boor.’ 

Not knowing what to say, Andromeda leant on the railings beside him. She felt that the silence would encourage him to continue – which it did. 

‘Sometimes I think I should give it all up,’ Ted said with a sigh. ‘The healing, the magic, everything. Go back to my Muggle life.’ 

Andromeda widened her eyes at his words. ‘You can’t,’ she said, aghast. ‘You can’t let them get to you.’

He glanced at her with a sad smile. ‘It just feels like wizards hate Muggle-borns more than they do Muggles.’

‘Because Muggle-borns threaten their logic. If purebloods were truly better than Muggles, Muggles wouldn’t be able to produce magical children. You’re just as magical as anyone here.’

‘Right.’ Ted’s face, however, was still clouded over. 

Andromeda twirled her wand between her fingers, thinking of something to say. Then it came to her. She tucked her wand away.

‘Give me your wand,’ she said.

Ted looked up in surprise. ‘What?’

‘Your wand.’

He slowly reached for the back pocket of his trousers and pulled it out, looking at her quizzically. He handed it to her and she studied it carefully. It was longer than hers, the wood a little darker and more flexible. 

‘Do you remember what it’s made of?’ she asked. 

‘Yeah. Willow and dragon heartstring.’ 

She smiled, then took his hand, covering his hand with hers as she made him grasp his wand. ‘You know what Ollivander says to everyone who comes to his shop. The wand chooses the wizard.’ She wrapped her hand tightly around his, forcing him to hold the wand in a firm grip. ‘This wand chose you, Ted. It’s proof that you’re meant to be a wizard – it’s proof that magic is your birthright as much as it's mine, as much as it's anyone’s.’ She relaxed her hand, smiling a little as she let go of him. ‘Don’t forget that.’

Ted looked down at his wand, then slowly stowed it away again. He looked up at her, an unreadable expression on his face; his brows were creased, as if in concern, but his lips were turned upwards in a smile. ‘I’ll try not to,‘ he said. 

He opened his mouth, as if to say something more, but suddenly a loud booming sound filled her ears. The earth seemed to shake. Andromeda grabbed onto the railing, thinking for a split-second that it was an earthquake, but then the rumbling stopped. They looked around in alarm.

‘What was that?’ said Ted.

‘Where did it come from?’ 

There were shouts coming from inside; they ran back into where the party had been – although now most stood still, or were crouched, in shock – and Andromeda’s question was answered by some shouts.

‘Downstairs!’ Benjy was shouting. ‘There’s been an explosion!’

A thousand possibilities entered Andromeda’s mind, and she took hold of her wand, unsure what to do, as Benjy rushed out of the room, followed by some others – Josephine, the McKinnons, maybe more. Eliza conjured her Patronus, her silver peregrine falcon whooshing off to deliver a message to Moody, before running down the stairs herself. The room felt silent for a while, the only sound the echoes of shouts coming from downstairs. She and Ted looked at each other uneasily. Then after a few moments there was another bang, this time quieter as if it were further away. The open balcony and windows seemed to creak eerily in the aftermath of the explosions. Andromeda thought that perhaps whatever it was had passed, but the clamour from downstairs was only growing louder. Then, from outside there was the unmistakeable sound of fighting: the whizzing of spells, the shouts as people hurled curses at one another. She felt her hair stand on end, panic overcoming her, the face of her sister clear and terrible in her mind. The rest of the people in the room had retreated to a corner, whispering about what to do – Andromeda didn’t know whether to run or hide. Instead, Ted made that decision for her, grabbing her and diving under a large table. 

‘You’ve got to stay hidden,’ hissed Ted. 

‘Death Eaters?’ she whispered. 

‘It could be your sister, or Malfoy –’

A set of footsteps came up the stairs. 

‘I need help!’ called out a voice; it was Josephine. ‘The second explosion hit Crispa Culpepper’s shop – I think her family’s hurt –’

Ted’s eyes widened. ‘Stay here,’ he repeated, and reached out to give her hands a squeeze. Andromeda could only nod before he climbed out from under the table and ran off with Josephine. Moments later he was replaced by Ash, who looked as pale as a ghost.

‘Bloody hell,’ he whispered. 

Andromeda racked her brain, unsure of what to do. She could only think of her friends outside, fighting, and Ted rushing to help those in need – she desperately hoped it was a random attack; she couldn’t bear the guilt if it were Bellatrix at the root of the destruction, leaving a bloody trail behind her as she sought out her sister. 

‘It might not be her,’ Ash said, as if reading her mind. ‘If it were, she’d be concentrating on raiding the building to find you, not fighting Benjy’s lot outside.’

She nodded, hoping to Merlin that her friend was right. 

Even from her position crouched under the table, she could see a sliver of sky; the late summer sun had nearly finished setting. The darkening sky outside scared Andromeda, as if the protection of the sunlight’s rays were waning. As she watched, however, she suddenly realised that the sky was darker than it should be, not merely a deepening blue but a solid black, as if someone had daubed the air with thick paint. The air was growing colder, too, and there was an odd rattling noise. She stared into the darkness again, brows furrowed in suspicion, and after a few moments saw that the blackness was, in fact, solid; it seemed to swirl as it moved across the air in a large wave. She gasped. 

‘Dementors?’ 

She had, in fact, never seen one before – she thought that they could only be found in Azkaban. As she looked at Ash, however, her guess was confirmed. He was shivering, his eyes screwed tight shut as if he were having a bad dream. 

They remained under the table, glued to the ground, as the swarm of Dementors passed by. When they were no longer visible, the air seemed to grow warmer. Ash opened his eyes, and they both breathed a sigh of relief, the colour returning to their cheeks. Andromeda steadied her breath, but then a new alarm overtook her. The Dementors would be joining the fighting outside, she thought, where they would be able to feast on unsuspecting prey. 

‘I have to get out there,’ she said, gripping her wand tightly as she made to climb out. 

Ash grabbed her shoulder. ‘No!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s too dangerous – even if they’re not here for you, they’ll still recognise you.’

‘I can’t leave Ted out there, not with the Dementors coming.’

‘He’s got Benjy and the others to protect him –’

Andromeda shook her head desperately. ‘Eliza’s the only one who can cast a corporeal Patronus, and I don’t know if an incorporeal one would be enough to ward them off.’

‘Merlin, you have to be so bloody loyal, don’t you?’ Ash said exasperatedly. He looked at her for a moment, then he sighed in resignation. He took out his wand. ‘Ted’s going to kill me.’

‘What are you –’ started Andromeda, before suddenly finding various parts of her face tapped with Ash’s wand. She felt an odd sensation running through her face, almost like she were being dunked in water, and blinked as she suddenly saw her hair turn blonde. She reached up to touch her face, but that too felt strange: her cheekbones were now less pronounced, and her jawline felt narrower, her nose smaller and rounder. 

’I’ve changed your appearance,’ Ash said. ‘Now no-one will know it’s you unless they hear your voice.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied. 

‘And you better come back in one piece,’ Ash said. 

Andromeda nodded, and, heart pounding, climbed out from under the table and made her way downstairs. 

She inhaled sharply as she saw the damage that had been done to the Leaky Cauldron. The wall facing the street had been torn apart, as if a giant had put his fist through it; there was a large gaping hole that opened up the pub like a cave. The front door swung uselessly in its hinges. It was difficult to see amid the smoke and dust, but she could make out people helping others out of the rubble – when she turned around, she saw that most of the patrons were now huddled in the courtyard, muttering protective spells or tending to the wounded. She gingerly climbed through the opening while trying not to inhale the dust. The whizzing of curses could still be heard, but they seemed to have moved further down the street. Josephine had said the second blast had hit Crispa Culpepper’s apothecary – Andromeda started to walk in that direction, gripping her wand tightly as she heard the sounds of fighting grow louder. Dementors circled above her, still waiting to swoop down. She had to get to Ted, she thought, before they started their descent. 

The haze was still thick in the street, making her wonder if it was deliberate; surely the two blasts couldn’t have generated this much smoke. She flattened herself against the exteriors of familiar shops as she walked down the street, ducking and weaving every time she heard a spell shoot past her, one jet of red missing her by a mere few inches. 

It was when she waved her wand to clear the air a little that she saw Rabastan. She saw him cast at spell a somebody, and apparently he was victorious, for he then turned his head to investigate the sudden disturbance in the air. Time seemed to slow down; Andromeda held her breath. She knew he wouldn’t recognise her, and yet the fear that perhaps she had been the target of the attack – not Bellatrix or Lucius, but Rabastan, something she hadn’t even contemplated –  came rushing back, knocking the breath out of her. 

She barely managed to dodge a streak of purple light that came shooting out of the air from another direction before Rabastan raised his wand. Deflecting his spell wordlessly, she ran back into the fog of smoke, trying to lose his trail – but he followed, throwing curses at her left and right. She knew her voice would give her away, and yet her non-verbal spells were only strong enough to deflect; he easily shrugged off an attempted Stunner that merely grazed his arm. Panic started to rise in her, the memories of Bellatrix’s dormitory and the duelling platform at the Yaxley’s taking over her body – she had to will herself to keep going. But as she neared Crispa Culpepper’s shop, she suddenly saw Ted, bent over some rubble, trying to help a young man trapped under it. Marlene was next to him, shielding him from the curses flying towards them. 

Andromeda stopped in her tracks. She didn’t know how much Rabastan knew about Ted, if at all, but she didn’t want to take any risks – she had to draw him away from him, move in the opposite direction. She spun around, darting away to avoid getting hit by another spell. She quickly doubled back, and Rabastan soon followed. She had to do this, she thought, for Ted. She told herself that she had to be brave – that she could be brave – even though her mind was screaming at her, her imagination filling it with all sorts of terrifying possibilities. 

The image of Ted kept her going. She held onto the memory of her defeating Rabastan in the duel, determined to let logic reign in her mind: she had beat him once before, she could beat him again – but as Rabastan caught up with her, she felt her body start to give way to fear, her hands trembling. She panted heavily, her lungs clogging up with the dust or smoke, whatever it was, and it took all her strength to raise her wand to shield herself from the latest barrage of his curses. 

Then the sky filled with shadows. The Dementors had begun to descend on the street, whether out of impatience or deliberation she couldn’t tell. As she dodged another of Rabastan’s spells, she could see their hooded faces, the air in the streets turning cold as they swept closer. They glided down the street towards where the second explosion had been, to where Ted was –

‘Expecto Patronum!’

As she raised her wand a flash of bright light filled the air, so lurid and encompassing that it seemed to illuminate a thousand details in front of her: every particle of dust, the cobblestones paving the street, the surprise on Rabastan’s face as his eyes followed the eruption of silver from the end of her wand. The force of the spell nearly knocked her over, and she stepped back, steadying herself, as she watched her jackrabbit bound down Diagon Alley to where the Dementors were converging, making them scatter back into the air; a moment later, she saw Eliza’s Patronus join her own, its wings spread out as it circled around the people in the street. 

Rabastan looked at her in shock. She knew he had recognised her voice. And yet, with a feeling of elation that seemed to fill her with lightness, she realised she was no longer scared.

‘Stupefy!’ she shouted, and Rabastan fell to his knees, disappearing in the haze. She raised her wand again to clear the smoke, but then Josephine came running into view, pursued by another attacker. 

‘Stupefy!’

The attacker fell to the ground, and Josephine looked up at Andromeda gratefully. Before they had time to exchange words, however, Andromeda found herself suddenly blasted off her feet and slammed against a wall. Wincing, she scrambled around for her wand, pushing herself up onto her knees. She wasn’t sure where the blast had come from, but now she was disorientated, lost in the smoke. She crawled on her knees, trying to feel her way to a safe place to catch her breath, when she heard another familiar voice amongst the din of fighting.

‘Rabastan! What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’

It was Rodolphus. 

‘Rodolphus! I thought you were in Scotland –’

Andromeda had automatically frozen, glued to her spot on the ground, but as her brother-in-law continued, she felt an odd sort of confusion overtake her. She had never seen Rodolphus act towards his brother like this. 

‘You idiot,’ Rodolphus spat. ‘What were you thinking? Carrying out an attack on Diagon Alley on a Saturday night –’

She squinted; she could just about make out the two brothers, who were now arguing loudly. 

‘She’s here, Rodolphus.’

‘Who is? Don’t tell me you were going after that girl.’

‘She was in disguise, but I heard her! She conjured a Patronus –’

Andromeda winced as she heard the sound of Rodolphus slapping his brother, hard, across the cheek. 

‘You think Andromeda Black can cast a Patronus?’ he scoffed. 

‘But –’

Before Rabastan had time to protest, however, there were more shouts.

‘Aurors!’ someone yelled, and Andromeda only had time to glance at the Lestrange brothers once more before Rodolphus grabbed Rabastan by the collar and disappeared into thin air. 

As the Death Eaters left with a few more hurried shouts and the Dementors swooped away, the smog started to lift, too, and Andromeda coughed to clear her airways before slowly getting to her feet. The Death Eaters had been right; she could see the now Aurors clearing away the rest of the smoke with a wave of their wands. Moody wasn’t there, but she recognised Isabella Nott, the Auror whom Bellatrix had attacked at the New Year’s Ball. She was glad to see that she was fine. Still feeling a little dazed, she looked around the street. She couldn’t see any Death Eaters; they must have all escaped, one way or another. There had been a few people lying on the ground, but she was relieved to see that they were now being helped up – she could see Isabella propping Benjy up and helping him down a Strengthening Solution. 

Sighing in relief, Andromeda then started to make her way back to the apothecary, to find Ted – but as she passed by the Leaky Cauldron, she saw Ash exiting through the hole in the wall. 

‘Ash,’ she called, and he looked up in surprise.

It took him a few moments to realise who she was. ‘Blimey,’ he said, coming over to her and pulling her into a hug. ‘I’d forgotten what you looked like.’

She grinned at up him. ‘I’m still in one piece.’

‘Andromeda!’ 

They looked up. Ted’s voice was loud and urgent above the murmur of the crowd. 

‘Andromeda!’

She turned around and saw him running towards them, pushing past people leaving the pub. He came skidding to a halt. 

‘Where’s Andromeda?’ he demanded of Ash. ‘Isn’t she with you?’

Ted turned to the stream of people leaving the pub, trying to push his way through. 

Andromeda looked at Ash, momentarily confused, before they both realised that she was still in disguise. Ash quickly raised his wand and muttered a spell to end the enchantment, and Andromeda felt a slight tingly feeling in her face as her features returned to normal. 

‘Ted,’ she called, and he spun around, recognising her voice. 

His eyes widened as she revealed herself. Before she could smile in greeting, however, she found herself being swept up into a tight embrace as he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. 

‘Thank god,’ he muttered, gently placing one hand on the back of her head as if to cradle her; his other arm was wrapped around her shoulders, firm and solid. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’

Andromeda blinked. ‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘I’m completely fine.’

Ted released her, his eyes never leaving her face. She thought she could feel his breath on her cheek as he let out a long exhale. ‘I thought –’ he said again, eyebrows still creased with worry. ‘I saw the Lestrange brothers –’

‘They’re gone, Ted. We’re all right.’

‘Ash!’ came a shout, and they spun around to see Eliza hurrying towards them. ‘Ted! Andromeda!’

‘Eliza!’ exclaimed Ash, and held his friend firmly as she rushed into him for a hug. 

‘Thank Merlin you’re all fine,’ Eliza said, looking at Andromeda and Ted over Ash’s shoulder. She was covered in grime, but seemed otherwise unhurt. ‘I thought it might be your sister, Andromeda, or Malfoy –’

‘It was the Lestranges,’ said Ted darkly. He still had an arm around Andromeda, holding her close to him.

Eliza’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she let go of Ash. She looked at Andromeda. ‘Were they after you?’

‘I think Rabastan was,’ Andromeda replied. ‘But I heard him talking to Rodolphus – he acted alone, just with his group of friends. Rodolphus was angry that he’d do something like this.’

Eliza nodded slowly, thinking it over. ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘I think so. Moody was right. Attacking Diagon Alley isn’t something the Death Eaters would usually do, it’s far too risky.’

‘But do you think he might try again?’ asked Ash. 

Andromeda raised a hand to her forehead; she saw that her fingers came away with a bit of soot on them. ‘Rodolphus didn’t seem too keen on Rabastan deviating from whatever strategies they’re supposed to follow,’ she said. ‘And Rodolphus is rather frightening.’

‘And now there’ll be extra security around here,’ added Eliza. 

Ted peered into Andromeda’s face. ‘Do you want to find another place to stay?’ he said. ‘Or maybe you could leave the country, stay with Eliza’s relatives –’

‘No,’ Andromeda replied firmly. ‘I’m not running.’ She took a deep breath; she could still feel the lightness she’d felt when she’d conjured her Patronus in front of Rabastan. ‘I’m not scared of him anymore,’ she said, and she was surprised to find that she was telling the truth. She smiled, almost to herself, as she looked up at Ted. 'I'm not scared,' she repeated.

Ted studied her, then seemed to remember something.

‘You sent your Patronus,’ he said quietly. ‘When the Dementors were getting close, I saw your jackrabbit.’  

‘How could I not?’ 

They held each other’s gazes for a moment longer before turning back to their friends.

Eliza looked around the street. ‘The Aurors will take care of the rest,’ she said, wiping her face with her sleeve. ‘We should get home. Let’s stay together tonight.’

‘I agree,’ replied Ted, and reached out to take Andromeda’s hand; she felt her heart skip a beat. 

The four kept close together as they walked the short distance from the Leaky Cauldron to Flourish and Blotts in silence, leaving the wreckage behind them. Andromeda occasionally glanced up at Ted, unused to the feeling of her hand in his, but he looked straight on as if he wasn’t giving their entwined hands a second thought. 

When they reached Flourish and Blotts, Andromeda used a scouring spell on everyone to rid them of the dust and grime that had settled on them. Ash’s hands trembled as he tried to open the door next to the bookshop, and Eliza took over for him, ushering everyone inside before closing the door behind them. 

‘I’m making tea,’ Ash said, leading the way up the stairs to his flat. Eliza followed him. 

When Andromeda made to follow her friends, however, she found herself being pulled back by Ted.

‘Can we talk?’ he asked. 

Andromeda nodded, uncertain what the low tone of his voice meant.  ‘What’s on your mind?’

He let go of her, instead running his hand through his hair. ‘Back then at the Leaky Cauldron,’ he said, ‘I thought something had happened to you. That maybe Lestranges got you, or – I don’t know.’ 

‘I’m all right,’ she replied. ‘Seeing Rabastan scared me for a moment, but I’m fine. Just tired.’ 

Ted exhaled deeply. ‘It’s not only that,’ he said. ‘The idea of losing you – well, it made me realise something.’ He swallowed, then reached out to cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. ‘I wasn’t sure before,’ he said slowly, ‘when you asked me whether we would just be friends or something more. I was scared of being hurt – not just being hurt, but hurting you – but now I know. I know that I want – need – this more than I’m scared of it.’

‘That you want what?’ whispered Andromeda. 

Ted bent down towards her, pushing his forehead against hers. ‘This,’ he murmured, and kissed her. 

He kissed her as if it were the first time he’d ever done so, as if he’d never get to kiss her again. Her heart was almost painful with feeling as she closed her eyes, opening her mouth up to him – how she’d missed the feeling of his lips on hers, the taste of his tongue as he drew her in close. It was the only thing that mattered, she thought, as the world around them faded into a blurry haze: she was here, and Ted was here, and for these precious few moments it was as if they were in their own private universe, remapping the stars into their own constellations and reshaping the galaxies to write their fates as they wished. This time, thought Andromeda, they would align the stars themselves. 

She felt her heart pulsating as she followed Ted into the flat. The kettle was boiling, but Eliza was already fast asleep on the sofa; as they took their shoes off, Ash gently covered Eliza with a blanket. He pushed up his glasses and smiled at them in a silent good night as Andromeda climbed up the ladder to her attic room, Ted following close behind. They could hear the quiet sound of Ash making tea for himself. When they were alone again, Ted pulled her in for another kiss, and they took their time, drinking in the presence of each other – but then Andromeda felt the events of the evening catching up with her mind and her body, and when she pulled away they broke off into simultaneous yawns, one yawn magically summoning the other. 

‘Sleep?’ asked Ted, and she smiled and nodded. 

Andromeda was half-asleep by the time she’d changed into her nightdress and collapsed onto the mattress. Ted undressed and joined her, and she sighed in contentment as she felt the heat of his body next to hers. 

She turned off the lights with a wave of her wand. Only the faintest of stars were visible through the sloped ceiling window, the others obscured by Muggle London’s artificial lights, but she knew the rest of the universe was out there looking down at them, as it always had. She turned to Ted, whose eyes were already closed. 

‘Did I ever find out?’ she asked.

‘Find out what?’ replied Ted, looking and sounding as if he were falling asleep. 

‘That day in Holland Park. You were going to say something, but didn’t – you said I’d find out soon enough. What were you going to say? What was I going to find out?’

Ted fell silent and for a moment she thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he must have remembered the conversation, for he opened his eyes and said: ‘Oh. That.’

‘Yes. That.’

‘I was going to say –’ he started, then stopped. He pulled her in for a quick kiss, and when they broke apart he was smiling in the moonlight. ‘I was going to say that if you kept talking like that, I’d fall in love with you all over again.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other. Andromeda let out a shaky little laugh, unable to contain the flutters of joy in her heart. Ted was still smiling at her, not quite a grin, but there was something mischievous about it – perhaps the twinkle in his eye.

‘And did you?’ she asked. 

‘What do you think?’

She gave him a contented little kiss on the nose before closing her eyes to settle into sleep. ‘Maybe you can show me tomorrow.’

*

When she woke up the next morning, she was almost surprised to feel Ted next to her as she shifted in bed. He was sleeping with his back to her. She reached out to place the palm of her hand on the middle of his back, marvelling as how small her hand looked against his body, at how warm he was. She removed her hand, not wanting to wake him, but then he rolled towards her, throwing an arm around her and pulling her close to him. All she could see and feel was his body around hers – and it was all she’d ever wanted.

‘Morning, ‘Dromeda,’ he mumbled in her hair. 

‘Hi, Ted.’

He was still in the sweet country between sleeping and waking, eyes closed and breathing deep and slumberous. She ran a hand up and down the length of his torso, and pulled herself back a little to look at his face, tracing her fingers along his firm jawline. He looked so young and vulnerable, she thought, when he slept. Andromeda wished they could stay in this moment forever, the morning sunlight surrounding them with warmth as they woke up together for the first time in their lives, their bodies side-by-side and showing themselves as they were, all of the defences and shields they usually put up washed away by sleep. 

She put the tips of her fingers on his torso again, gliding them up and down as she touched him gently, slowly drawing them further down with every stroke. She didn’t take her eyes off his face; she loved watching him react to the sensations, inhaling sharply as he instinctively arched his body to feel her touch. Ted let out a long exhale, and when she reached his underwear she could feel that he was hard, the fabric stretched taut over him. She ran her fingers just under the hem before beginning to rub him over his underwear, making him open his eyes and kiss her in response. 

’Stale mouth,’ he whispered sheepishly, but she opened her mouth to taste him; it felt like a luxury to drink him in in the morning.

As they kissed, he moved his hand to cup her breast and she instinctively let out a little moan. As she did so, however, her mind suddenly darkened. It was as if some muscle memory deep inside her was unsettling her thoughts.

She pushed him away, and Ted stopped, withdrawing his hand. 

‘Are you all right?’ he asked. 

‘You don’t want me, Ted.’

He frowned, but then flashed her a little smile. ‘I think I’ll be the judge of that.’

When Andromeda looked down, however, he reached out with his other hand to brush her hair off her face. ‘Are you thinking about last night? The attack?’ 

She shook her head. She wanted to withdraw into herself in a way that she knew had nothing to do with the fight in Diagon Alley the night before. 

‘This – being in bed, I mean – just reminds me of things I’d rather not think of,’ she said quietly. 

‘What kind of things?’

‘Things that would make you hate me.’

When Ted spoke again his voice was gentle. ‘Is it Malfoy?’

Andromeda closed her eyes. 

‘You can tell me anything, Andromeda.’

She exhaled deeply. ‘There are things I did,’ she said, closing her eyes as the memories flooded into her. ‘With Lucius – things I let him do – things I enjoyed –’ she stopped. ‘You shouldn’t be with me, Ted.’ She raised a hand to her forehead, as if to contain the thoughts spilling out of her mind. She didn’t know how to formulate the words – how to make sense of it all. But Ted was patient; he waited, silently, for her to speak. 

‘Lucius used to tell me I was beautiful,’ she said, finally. ‘He liked dressing me up and showing me off, and I enjoyed it. He thought I was a whore. And not only because of that – the way I behaved with him, with his father, with you –’

‘There was nothing wrong with the way you behaved with me. Don’t let him get in your head.’

‘I don’t know why I did those things with him,’ she said, her brows creasing in frustration at the memory. She wanted to pick up a glass and smash it into a wall, let herself bleed as the shards fell into her. ‘I think there’s something wrong with me.’

‘I don’t care.’

She looked up in surprise. She had expected words of comfort and care, words of reassurance that wouldn’t sink into her brain. Not easy dismissal. 

‘I know it’s useless trying to tell you that you’re wrong,’ said Ted. ‘That you’re being hard on yourself or that what matters is that you’re OK – I know you won’t buy it. So I’ll tell you this instead: I don’t care. I don’t care what you did. All I care about is that you’re here now.’ He raised his eyebrows at her in a look of impatience. ‘So let yourself have what you want.’ He smiled, and lowered his voice. ‘Because I’m more than happy to give it to you.’

Andromeda reached out to hold Ted’s face in her hands, slowly pulling him in, and as she planted her lips on his again she felt the storm inside her brain quieten, the strength going out of her shoulders and allowing her to breathe in every inch of the moment as he kissed her back: the warmth of his hand in her hair, the feeling of their noses rubbing against each other, the firmness of his body as he pulled her close to her, holding her as if he never wanted to let go of her again. 

When they broke apart, Andromeda couldn’t help it; she felt herself smile. Ted let out a little sigh of contentment as he looked at her. 

‘You’re beautiful when you smile,’ he said.  

They kissed again, their mouths slowly growing messy and sloppy from their morning slumber. Andromeda let herself give into the sensations as Ted ran a hand along her leg, caressing her thigh; she reached for his underwear and slipped her hand inside, taking him into her hand. Her heart beat fast as she felt him grow hard again, and he let out a little groan as she played with him, rubbing her thumb over the tip of his dick. She liked how warm and firm he felt in her palm, and touched him slowly, feeling herself growing wet between her legs, too, at the memory of him inside her. Soon, though, Ted pushed himself up, first casting a quick noise-muffling spell at the door before ridding himself of his underwear. Andromeda did the same, though she kept her nightdress on, and as Ted sat up, head barely clear of the low sloping wall of the attic, as she straddled him, spitting into her palm and rubbing it onto his dick before guiding it inside her. 

How she’d missed this. She closed her eyes in satisfaction. Ted was clearly still sleepy, and he watched her she moved slowly. Soon, though, he started to thrust upwards into her, and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him greedily as she rocked her hips in response, moaning into his mouth. Ted pulled down the thin straps of her nightdress from her shoulders, tugging it down to rub his thumb over one of her nipples. When she arched her back at the sensation he leant forward to take her other breast into his mouth; the feeling of his tongue was almost too much, and Andromeda gasped and moved her hips faster, harder, pushing herself into a frenzy as she tried to feel him deeper inside her. 

(Downstairs–
Eliza: ‘Do they not realise the Muffliato charm doesn’t stop floorboards from creaking?’
Ash, mournfully: ‘I’m going to have to tell them, aren’t I?’)

‘I’d forgotten how good it feels inside you,’ Ted murmured against her neck; she could only moan in response. Growing impatient, he took hold of her waist and lifted her up a little, just enough so he could move better, filling her with pleasure as he thrust into her again and again. She cried out loud and pressed her hands against the low ceiling in front of her as he fucked her from below, and when she felt his mouth on her nipple again she quickly lost control, panting and moaning as she climaxed, rocking her hips desperately against him. 

She sat there, open-mouthed and gasping for breath, and Ted reached up to push her hair away from her face. 

‘I love seeing you like this,’ he said, and then he nudged her off him, gently turning her around and pushing her onto the mattress so she lay flat on her stomach. 

Andromeda lifted her hips up a little so he could enter her again, and he groaned into her shoulder as he did so. She loved the feeling of him on top of her, his warm body pinning her down with his weight. He swept her long hair off her back, pushing it aside to kiss her hairline at the nape of her neck, making her whimper in delight.

‘Ted,’ she gasped.

‘Mm?’

‘I really missed you.’

He laughed, then, and nuzzled his nose against her hair in joy. ‘I’d bloody well hope so,’ he said, and snuck an arm around her waist, holding her tight from behind as he moved deep inside her. Andromeda closed her eyes again, relishing every last feeling in her body; after Ted came, filling her up as he gasped and groaned into her hair, she wanted him to stay inside her, close to her, so they would never be apart again. 

When Ted rolled off her, though, it was a joy to see to his face, and they grinned foolishly at each other in a post-coital haze for what seemed like an age, as if in disbelief that this was finally happening, as if they knew that words were not enough. She loved Ted, she thought, in a way she didn’t know was possible – in a way she didn’t know she could. And as Ted looked back at her, she knew, somehow, that he felt the same way. She never knew she could feel this happy; she never knew she could feel this brave.

*

‘Well?’ Andromeda said, poking her head around the door before gingerly stepping out of the bathroom. ‘How does it look?’

It was late August, only two days before she and Ted were due to start at St. Mungo’s and Eliza at the Ministry of Magic, when Andromeda finally worked up the courage to open the bottle of hair-dying potion she’d bought on her first day in Diagon Alley. She had sat in the middle of the living room as Eliza and Ash slathered her with the goopy substance, combing it through her hair; Ted, less confident in his hair-colouring abilities, sat to the side, watching her as they chatted idly on a Saturday night. After waiting around half an hour, Andromeda had gone to wash and dry her hair, carefully avoiding her reflection. She wasn’t certain she hadn’t made a big mistake. 

Eliza gasped as she entered the room. ‘Andromeda!’ she exclaimed. 

Andromeda winced. ‘Is it bad?’  

‘You look wonderful,’ she said with a laugh, and came over from the kitchen counter, where she had been mixing drinks, to steer her over to the mirror. ‘Take a look.’

Andromeda laughed out loud when she saw her reflection. Her long hair, formerly a soft brown, had been transformed into a dark magenta, somewhere between bright pink and deep purple. She had been worried that it would make her look pale and peaky, but instead it seemed to have filled her with a new radiance. Her reflection was almost unrecognisable, making her wonder who it really was in that mirror – but she knew that one day she’d be so used to her new self that she wouldn’t even bat an eyelid. 

She turned to Ted and Ash.

‘It looks great,’ said Ash, giving her a thumbs up. 

Ted jumped up from the sofa and made his way over to her. He reached out to take a strand of hair in his fingers, twirling it as he looked down at her. 

Andromeda smiled. ‘I think I look good.’

‘It suits you,’ Ted said. ‘Especially when you smile.’

She blushed; one thing she might never get used to, she thought, was the way Ted looked at her. 

Eliza handed out gin and tonics to everyone and raised her glass.

‘To our last weekend of freedom,’ she said. 

‘Excuse me,’ interrupted Ash, ‘but some of us have already been hard at work.’

‘Shut up and write your novel, Kumar,’ Eliza retorted, sticking out her tongue at him. ‘Anyway,’ she continued. ‘To Ted and Andromeda’s success as Healers, to Ash’s as a writer, and to mine as an Auror – hopefully.’

‘You’ll be fine, Eliza,’ said Ted with a grin. ‘Anything else you want to add to the toast?’

Eliza smiled, but then her expression grew solemn. ‘To repairing the world,’ she said quietly. ‘To kindness and exuberance. And to the triumph of light over dark.’

‘L’chaim,’ said Ash.

Eliza laughed out loud. ‘You’re catching on.’ She paused, then, and looked around at everyone as if drinking in their presence. ‘To life.’

‘To life,’ they said. 

As they drank and talked, letting the hours of the night pass them by, Andromeda felt her mind start to wander, lost in a blur of pure contentment. She would remember this moment, she thought, for as long as she lived. Here she was with Ted, surrounded by friends, this small flat above a bookshop a beacon of warmth amid the bleak times they lived in. On that fateful day when she had first met Ted, Bellatrix had said there was a war coming – and she had been right. It was a like a raging storm in their lives, unpredictable yet inescapable, chewing up and spitting out the bones of those unlucky enough to get caught in its winds. Her sisters and Lucius were on one side of the war, and Andromeda had somehow found herself on the other. She could only hope to not be blown away as she tried to stand firm with her friends and their allies. Perhaps one day Bellatrix would come for her favourite sister, knocking at her door in a bid for vengeance. Andromeda knew that some part of her would always be expecting her sister’s wrath, dormant like a sleeping snake until the inevitable day arrived. 

It was a terrible world; it was a beautiful world. Sometimes Andromeda couldn’t understand how she could hold all the pain she felt in her life and yet still find herself smiling at every small thing Ted said or did, whether it was the easy way with which he threw an arm around her waist as they fell asleep or how he’d grin, pleased as the cat that got the cream, every time he thought he said something funny. She didn’t know where life would take her – it had already taken her to the most unexpected of places. She wondered if the ravaging war would seek to destroy her life, or if she’d live to see times of peace. Either way, as Ted smiled knowingly at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, there was one thing she knew for certain: she was ready.