Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

Captain of the bloody Quidditch team. She, Andromeda Black, was going to be Captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team.

Blimey.

"Darling, this is an excellent opportunity for you, you know," her mother told her as they ate breakfast, "there'll be all sorts of chances for you to meet eligible young men if you're in Quidditch circles."

"Mother," Andromeda replied, pouring pumpkin juice into a very thin glass that she was pretty sure was made in the fifteenth century, "I really don't see what eligible young men has got to do with my being Captain."

"That's because you're an idiot," Bellatrix waltzed into the dining hall, "isn't she, Mummy?"

"Bella, don't call your sister an idiot, please," Mrs. Black said sharply, turning to her second born daughter, "Where is Cissy?"

"Trying to do her hair, she says it won't stay flat. Bimble, pour me pumpkin juice," Bellatrix sat across from Andromeda, and waved a hand at the house elf that was scurrying around in silence.

"Bella, you don't need a house elf to pour you a drink, do it yourself," Andromeda rolled her eyes.

"Bimble's job is to serve me, and who am I to stop her doing her job- Bimble, stop there, it'll overflow- Rodolphus wants to meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at two, Mother, can I?"

"Well," Mrs. Black laid down her knife and fork, and the house elf took her plate away, "I don't think it's really very appropriate for an underage girl like you to be cavorting in a public house..."

"Why not? I'm perfectly capable of holding my own, Mother, and-"

"It's not about that, dear, it's about how people might take adva-"

"Father would let me go!"

There was a silence, and Andromeda sipped her juice in an attempt to break the awkwardness. It didn't work.

"Your father," Mrs. Black said slowly and coldly, after what seemed like an age, "is no longer here, Bellatrix. It's about time you remembered that."

"Sorry, Mother," Bellatrix mumbled. Andromeda put her glass down noisily (not on purpose, I must add, she just happened to be quite clumsy) and all eyes were on her. She cleared her throat.

"I could go with her..."

"Nonsense," her mother replied, standing, "two underage girls in a public house famous for the number of Mudbloods and whores that pass through its doors? No, darlings, I don't think that will be happening."

"But Mother," Bellatrix's voice was low, and Andromeda could tell that she was quite desperately trying to hold in her anger, "I promised."

"You'll just have to break that promise then, won't you?" Mrs. Black said shortly, "Bimble, clear the plates. Be by the fire in ten minutes, girls. I'll go and get Narcissa."

"Yes, Mother..." the Black sisters (well, two of them) mumbled.

Mrs. Black strode from the room, and Bellatrix and Andromeda looked at each other.

"You and Rodolphus..." Andromeda said slowly, "are you...?"

"Are we what?"

"You know what I mean."

"No," Bellatrix snapped, "no, I'm afraid I don't."

"Are you shagging Rodolphus Lestrange, Bella?"

"NO!" she shrieked, "I am fifteen, Andromeda, fifteen! I am not 'shagging', as you so charmingly put it, anyone."

"Well, maybe you're not shagging him, certainly, but are you...y'know, a thing?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Bellatrix hissed at her sister, "is my best friend. Nothing more. Are we clear?"

Andromeda simply raised her eyebrows. Rodolphus and Bella had been friends for years, despite the two year age gap, but the older girl had always got the feeling that there was something more. Apparently not, though. With a sigh, she stood.

"Where are you going?"

"To get my coat, it'll be cold in London."

"Get Bimble to do it."

"Bella," Andromeda resisted the urge to roll her eyes, "Bella, you can do things for yourself, you know."

"Oh, I know," Bellatrix replied haughtily, "I just choose not to."

Diagon Alley. August, in the year nineteen seventy two. It was cold, because it was England, and England is nearly always cold, even in summer. The sisters Black, and their mother, usually parted crowds, and today was no exception.

"Now remember, girls," Mrs. Black told them as they walked through the street, "we're here for business, not pleasure. No going off for fun, we have things to do. Do I make myself clear?"

Narcissa and Andromeda murmured replies, but Bellatrix was silent.

"Bellatrix?"

"Yes, mother," she smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

Andromeda grabbed her sister's arm. "Bella," she whispered into the younger girl's dark hair, "please. Please, not today."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at her, and pulled her arm out of Andromeda's grip. "Cissy, come with me to Flourish and Blotts?"

Cissy, pretty little Cissy with her blonde hair and blue eyes, glanced around. "Mummy said not to run off, Bella..."

"Mummy says a lot of things, let's go. We can go, can't we?" Bellatrix asked her mother, who was examining some jewellery on a market stall.

"What-? Oh, yes, yes, off you go. Business though."

"Yes, Mother," Bella smiled sweetly, "Business."

And she and Cissy ran off, arms linked and hair flying behind them, and Andromeda was all alone.

"Dromeda?" her mother asked, "aren't you going with them?"

"I don't really fancy it, to be honest," Andromeda sighed, and in truth she didn't. Bellatrix and Narcissa had something she didn't, and whenever she was around them, she felt the lack of whatever it was more keenly than ever.

"Well if you're not going with them, darling," Mrs. Black held a necklace up to the light, "you can come with me to Madam Malkins, I need new dress robes."

And Andromeda Black agreed.

There are things in this life, decisions, which shape our entire futures. This sounds like a cliché, but clichés, dear reader, are overused for a reason. Because they are true. And Andromeda Black agreeing to go to Madam Malkins' shop was one such decision.

The doorbell made a ding noise as they entered. Madam Malkin, a tiny witch with spiky brown hair, was bustling around a tall (and handsome) blonde boy, who Andromeda recognised but did not know the name of, stood on a stool.

"Ah," Madam Malkin clucked, "Mrs. Black! I'll be with you in a moment; I'm just fixing up Mr. Tonks here!" And she gestured to the boy, who winked at Andromeda (and Andromeda blushed)

"Tonks?" Mrs. Black turned to her eldest, "I don't recognise that name? Is he in your year?"

Andromeda, momentarily distracted by this Tonks boy's cheekbones, did not reply.

"Andromeda?"

"What-? Oh, sorry, Mother, urm, yeah, yeah I think he's a Hufflepuff?"

Mrs. Black hmmm-ed and then said "Half blood?"

Andromeda had to tear her eyes away from the Tonks boy and the way his hair flopped into his eyes, to say "Mother, I honestly don't know. People don't walk around with their blood status on badges you know."

Mrs. Black sniffed, "Well, they should. It's good to know who we're mixing with."

Andromeda suppressed a melodramatic sigh. "Mother, those views will get you into trouble one day..."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Black pursed her ruby red lips, "it's everyone's views nowadays," she raised her voice slightly, so that Madam Malkin, still measuring Mr. Tonks' long limbs, could hear her, "Madam Malkin! I don't like to be kept waiting!"

Madam Malkin glanced over, and Andromeda smiled slightly as the dressmaker rolled her eyes.

"Just a moment, Mrs. Black!" she called over, "yes, that'll do, Mr. Tonks. Mind you don't grow any more though!"

The Tonks boy laughed huskily and said "I'll try, Madam, I'll try."

Madam Malkin beamed at him, and he doffed an imaginary cap at her. He turned to leave, and seeing Andromeda's eyes were still on him, winked again.

The eldest Black girl giggled, despite the way her mother sucked in air through her teeth, and made a clucking noise.

The boy swaggered (there really is no other word for it) from the shop, swinging a battered denim jacket over his shoulder.

"Tell me," Andromeda could hear her mother saying, "that boy. Is he a pureblood?"

"I don't see why that should make a difference..." Madam Malkin replied in a clipped tone.

"Well, Madam, you understand-"

"No, Mrs. Black, I'm afraid I don't. Now. Are you here to insult me and my customers, or are you here to get dress robes fitted?"

Mrs. Black made another clucking sound, but stood on the stool Madam Malkin had for customers to be measured on.

The Tonks boy was still stood outside; he was leant against an unlit lamp post.

"Mother," Andromeda asked (what on earth has come over you Black? Stop right now), "I see Bella and Cissy coming out of Flourish and Blotts, should I-?"

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Black waved her daughter away, "go and get them. Hurry back though, there's a dear."

"Yes, Mother!" Andromeda replied chirpily, and then she left the shop, swinging on the doorframe as she went.

"Sorry about my mum," she said to him, "she's a bit..."

"S'fine," the Tonks boy replied, not looking at her (he was looking up, she noticed, up to the clouds) "I get it all the time."

"It's awful," she sighed, leaning next to him, "I apologise on behalf of purebloodkind."

"I accept your apology," he chuckled, "on behalf of Mugglebornkind."

"I'm sorry," she said, "I...urm...you're a Hufflepuff, right?"

"Andromeda Black," he laughed, and looked down at her (oh, his eyes were so blue) "I have commentated on your brilliant Quidditch skills for four years now. Are you honestly telling me you didn't recognise my voice?"

Oh, it all made sense now. The charming swagger, the husky chuckle. He'd been narrating her brilliance since third year, cracking jokes and cheering on the underdog, always, because he was a Hufflepuff and that's what they did. Edward Tonks. What a man.

"Ted Tonks," she grinned, "it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Miss Black," he stuck out a hand and she shook it, "you're an excellent Chaser by the way."

"You're not too bad a commentator," she responded, and he smirked at her.

"Won't you get lynched for looking at me?" he asked her quietly. Andromeda glanced into the shop window. Her mother had donned the ugliest set of dress robes she had ever seen. They were grey, with puffed sleeves (who wore puffed sleeves now, honestly?) and it was made out a kind of ugly snake skin material that made Andromeda want to burn her own eyes out because nothing she would ever see again would be as ugly as that dress. Thankfully, her mother's fascination with this monstrosity meant she was not looking out the window, meaning that she could not see that her first born, her eldest daughter, had just shaken hands with- gasp- a Muggleborn.

"Nah, she's not noticed."

He grinned, and pulled out a cigarette. "Do you mind?" he asked her.

"Not at all," in all honesty, she relished the smell of something different, something that wasn't pumpkin juice or Narcissa's bloody hair product. He lit it with a Muggle lighter.

"You could just light it with your wand?"

He pulled a face. "Trust me, Chaser," Ted told her, "you don't want to try that."

"You speak from experience, Commentator?"

"Oh yes. I mean, you'd think," he said, waving the cigarette around (and the ash flew into the air, and glimmered like broken stars) "that they wouldn't be able to detect underage magic here, but oh no, I do one bloody Flame Charm and Millicent bloody Bagnold's written a thirteen page essay to my mother and hand delivered it by the time I've even half smoked the fag!"

She laughed.

"Sorry," but his lips were stretched into a smile, "sorry, you didn't want to listen that rant, did you?"

"Mr Tonks," Andromeda said, (and she couldn't quite help feeling like this was meant to happen, that she was meant to start a conversation with a strange blonde boy who her mother didn't want her talking to, else the entire world would implode) "my middle name is Rant Listener. I am the Queen of Listening to Rants. I have a palace and a castle and a cape. All I ask in return," he was still smiling, "is that you listen to mine."

"Seems like a fair deal," (Ted Tonks couldn't help feeling that way too, that if he stopped talking to this girl, the world would end) "rant away."

"I'm pretty sure my little sister's shagging an seventeen year old," she began, "and my other little sister is trapped in fairy world or something, I mean, I'm ninety nine point three percent certain that she couldn't tell you who Minister for Magic is. And my mother, as you saw, is actually evil, and I'm Quidditch Captain, which-"

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm Quidditch Captain, which should mean that I get a reward, right? Or at least some sort of praise because it's an achievement- I beat Lucius Malfoy to the title, for Agrippa's sake- but no, my mother uses it as an opportunity to-"

"Andromeda!"

They span around. Mrs Black was stood in the doorway of the shop, nostrils flaring and eyes dangerously dark.

Oh.

Bollocks.

Andromeda's face grew hot with embarrassment (but what exactly was she embarrassed about?) and she glanced up at Ted. He was stubbing his cigarette out on the cobbles, and averting his gaze from Mrs Black's death stare.

"Come with me." Mrs Black addressed her daughter, "now."

There are things in this life, decisions, which shape our entire futures. This sounds like a cliché, but clichés, dear reader, are overused for a reason. Because they are true.

And Andromeda Black's decision to talk to Ted Tonks outside a dressmakers shop was one such decision.