Blackbird

Chapter 19

Her heart stopped beating. This couldn't be happening. For a moment, she thought she should be angry, but wasn't she doing the same thing?

She said a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening that he hadn't seen them. But even if that prayer was answered they weren't out of the woods. They still had to get inside without him noticing, not that he was paying that much attention.

"Shh..." he said, "Shh...sweetheart, don't fight it." She froze. That wasn't Rabastan. It was Roldophus. Roldophus Lestrange. She immediately felt relieved, which was odd. It shouldn't matter to her if Rabastan was faithful or not. Caring would make her a hypocrite. Perhaps she would just rather not know about it. Yes, that made sense.

And then her pulse quickened again. Rabastan seeing them was one thing, but Roldophus was a whole different realm of terrifying. She didn't know why, but there was something about him that seriously frightened her, and now it was Roldophus and whoever his new thick-headed toy was who they had to sneak past.

Ted motioned, and the two of them darted forward. They carefully hoisted the door open and slipped inside. Ted was about to close the door behind them when he stopped, staring through the sliver he'd left open.

"Ted," Meda whispered, "Hurry, shut it."

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just, I think that's..." He looked over at her. She didn't like that look. She pushed him aside and peered through the gap herself. Rodolphus and the girl had moved so that she could see the half of them that wasn't hidden by the stone walls.

The girl had cascading blond hair that seemed horribly familiar. Andromeda didn't want to believe it, but the girl's hand gripped the corner of the wall as Rodolphus pressed harder, and she saw the large, green ring on her finger.

Narcissa.

Andromeda didn't want to see anymore, but stood, transfixed as Rodolphus lips slipped to her sister's neck, his hands grasping her robes as he pressed his hips against her. Her sister moaned, gasping under his touch. There was something about it than seemed— rough. Like he was taking more than her sister was willing to give.

Ted pulled her back and closed the door.

"Come on," he whispered, "we should go."

She turned and fled. If only she could leave what she'd seen behind her just as easily.

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"Mr. Tonks. Mr. Tonks wake up!"

"I, what?" He sat up, delirious as Professor McGonagall rapped her wand on the edge of his desk. "I predict that the Tornados will win the world cup this year."

Several kids laughed, but Professor McGonagall was not amused.

"Mr. Tonks, I asked you if you could name Sylvester's 7th law of biotic energy transfer." She gave him a stern look. "Not your thoughts on the world cup." Her eyes narrowed. "Can you?"

"Can I what?" Ted blinked.

"Name Sylvester's 7th law of biotic energy transfer!" She hissed, her nostrils flaring.

Ted opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He hadn't the faintest clue what she was talking about, so he settled for a sheepish grin.

She was again, not amused.

"Mr. Tonks, your grade in this class is already far lower than acceptable, I would suggest you not waste valuable class time sleeping. That is what the night is for." She took a deep breath. "Please see me after class." Then she stormed off towards the front of the classroom to resume her lecture.