A/N: This is my first time writing Andromeda/Ted. I love them! They are really fun to flesh out since so much is open to interpretation. I read some great Andromeda/Ted fic lately that inspired me to write this, and I wish they had more fic in the fandom.

I tried out a few different things with the style of this, so I hope it comes across well. Let me know what you think! A lot of people have favourited this story already, THANK YOU! I really appreciate it but I'd love to hear some feedback too! Reviews are appreciated and hope you enjoy. This is a one-shot. No plans to write more Andromeda/Ted yet, but I could change my mind. Happy New Year!

-JLM

Playing Muggle

Behind the old Bowtruckle-infested Care of Magical Creatures shed where no one goes, they are sat together again. For no particular reason, as usual. Everyone else in their year is making the most of the Hogsmeade weekend. But here they are. They could stretch out their legs and their toes would be in the Forbidden Forest.

It started out, today, as it always does with Ted, with something as silly as a sausage—really, a sausage—leading to an innocuous little comment that became a long pleasant conversation.

They are in sixth year and have been dancing around each other since they met six years ago when he saved her scarf from flying out the open window of the Hogwarts Express.

She'd never seen a person move with such unabashed urgency, especially on behalf of a stranger. It was almost ugly how fast he threw himself after the silly piece of material. She wouldn't have been sad to loose it. He handed it back to her with a stupid pleased-looking grin and walked off without even asking who she was.

No one had ever not known who she was before. Andromeda was left feeling equal parts affronted and touched by the encounter.

Of course her friends made a fuss until she Scourgified the scarf beyond recognition after they realized he was a Mudblood.

He didn't learn her name until the day she answered every one of Slughorn's intimidating questions correctly in their first Potions class and was awarded an obscene amount of points for Slytherin.

He turned around to gawk and glare at the clever girl—Andromeda Black—with the rest of his row of Hufflepuffs. Most of them had learned already what Black meant, and didn't glare too long.

Ted hadn't, and she saw a challenge in his lingering eyes. She didn't miss, either, how his eyes skated over her and took in her every feature with a care and concentration she found unusual for a reckless Muggle-born boy. But Andromeda was used to being admired, so she didn't dwell on it.

She learned his name when Slughorn proceeded to whisk his chair out from under him while shouting,

"Theodore Edward Tonks, face the front!"

"It's Ted, sir," he responded ruefully but with his calm grin, as he got up rubbing his bottom.

Andromeda used Ted's name for the first time about a year later when asking him to pass her a book in the library. She'd seen his cheeky smile around a few times over that year and was almost nervous—as nervous as a Black girl could be—when she took a breath to speak.

"Could you hand me An Encyclopedia of Toadstools and Trees, Tonks?"

Ted seemed pleased that she took the book from him without recoiling or insulting his blood status. Or it might have been because she knew his name. Andromeda didn't dare ask in case her friends overheard them talking.

By fourth year they'd been occasionally partnered in a few classes and Ted had saved various items of her clothing from unfortunate fates.

Andromeda held a ferociously guarded secret. She was naturally clumsy. Horribly clumsy.

This was (of course) only slightly worse than being physically disfigured for a well-bred Black girl hoping to attract a fine match with a pureblood Wizard.

Her clumsiness had been almost entirely trained out of Andromeda from a young age. It was a painstaking process and something she swore she'd never inflict upon her future daughters if they were unlucky enough to inherit the trait.

Unfortunately her learned grace required such complete concentration that Andromeda found keeping track of stray items of clothing one thing too much, and had to prioritize.

After all, Damsel-in-distress was far more appealing than Damsel-in-a-heap-on-the-floor.

If Ted worked out her secret, he was good enough never to mention it. But he often seemed to be conveniently nearby to catch her stray hats and mittens and even a book or two as they flew out of her control.

Maybe it was for this reason that Andromeda always felt inexplicably comfortable and safe around Ted. Though she'd never admit it to anyone, least of all to him.

And maybe this was why in fifth year when he, her bastion of safety, began teasing her, it got under her skin so much more than she thought he had a right to.

At least the teasing wasn't noticeable to others. All the boys were teasing all the girls by fifth year.

Andromeda had a boyfriend of course. It was Thornfinn Rowle at the time, and none of the girls in her dormitory knew why she flushed so fiercely when they giggled that big blonde blokes were her type.

Like both her sisters, Andromeda had had a boyfriend since her first year. Though, like all the relationships Andromeda had ever known, her boyfriends existed for her largely in title only.

But being with her handsome distant Slytherin boyfriends never felt as exciting as being teased and having her feathers ruffled by Ted Tonks.

He was attractive in his own way. Sort of perpetually funny and scruffy looking, like he'd just rolled out of bed, but he wore it in a very attractive way. He was never short of girlfriends either. Girls were drawn to his charm, his natural ease and sense of humour. His kind eyes and big chest that was lovely to snuggle into.

Or so Andromeda had heard. She'd never snuggled with Ted. No matter how many times she might have wondered about it after overhearing Hyacinth McKinnon gush about his big lovely chest in the girls' bathroom.

Andromeda was always just cordial to Ted. Though, to her credit, it was more than most purebloods were to him. But she'd never been as cruel as her sisters. Maybe it came from being the middle sibling to two especially terribly bratty sisters, maybe she was a defective Black in more ways than her horrific clumsiness. But though she was a Slytherin through and through, Andromeda was not a Tyrant like the most of her family and friends. She spoke politely enough to people in other houses when occasion called, and her sisters understood this and tried their best to ignore it. Because no one told a Black girl what to do; even another Black girl.

Occasionally Ted caught Andromeda off guard and managed to make her laugh, make her angry, or engage her in a good chat before propriety dictated she walk away.

Andromeda thought it might be the same for Ted as it was for her. The way he was always sort of in the back of her mind, how talking with him—even arguing—felt right in a way it didn't with other people. But of course she'd never brought it up. They flirted with danger but never quite dared to take it too far, always running back to their respective sides of an imaginary safe line.

So this morning, halfway through their sixth year, just because the weather looked good for early spring, Ted had thrown a sausage across the Great Hall at Andromeda at breakfast. Very Muggle of him; didn't even use his wand except to make it unnoticeable to the rest of her table.

He did it knowing that she'd let her friends go ahead to Hogsmeade and wait outside the Great Hall to get him back with a pitcher of orange juice Levitated to spill over the top of his head.

And he'd kept two uncooked eggs in his pocket so that he could laugh,

"Mornin' Sunshine!" and crack them over her expensive heirloom boots and run away chuckling like Peeves, knowing she'd chase after him.

And they'd chased each other all the way down to the Lake where he'd not-so-subtle-y pushed her in, knowing she'd pull him in with her, so that he could say that they'd better sit down together a minute and dry off. And they'd both ignore their magic, agreeing that this was a practical idea.

"It's all right for you, Ted, you look this scruffy all the time," she would complain, not half as cross as she made out, and causing him to grin even more at her use of his first name.

And Andromeda, legs tucked neatly beneath her, would ask him about their Transfiguration homework, because they both loved Transfiguration, and it'd lead to a long passionate conversation about the subject. By the end of the conversation Andromeda would be soothed by the mellow, pleasant tone of Ted's voice, the broad lower class accent so different than hers, and her legs would have become untucked and stretched out on the damp grass and Ted would be fiddling with the hem of her long skirt, eyes darting quickly to hers through the cover of his fringe, as though daring her to acknowledge the intimacy of the gesture.

And they'd decide to go somewhere with a bit of shade, so they'd set off for the edge of the Forbidden Forest behind the shed, where no one would see them together. Because it was fine to be seen hexing each other but not so fine to be seen having a nice chat.

And they'd settle down in the grass just far enough from the Bowtruckle-infestated shed and Ted would perform a surreptitious drying spell so she wouldn't have to sit there all wet. And Andromeda would acknowledge it with a smile bigger than the smile she usually gave people.

And their eyes would hold each other's for longer than they were used to. And Andromeda would realize her Black armour had almost completely fallen away, as it often tended to do around Ted, completely involuntarily.

And she'd become self-conscious and stiff again and make a throwaway comment about something silly, like a thinly veiled insult to his current girlfriend, Matilda Abbott. And rather than meeting it with an insult towards Thorfinn Rowle, who was still Andromeda's boyfriend, Ted would raise his eyebrows jovially in a way that was more maddening than if he'd said something rude.

And so they'd find themselves sat there in silence. Like every other day they'd played a similar game. Not even caring that they were missing their Hogsmeade weekend, but just sitting together. Because they could for a while.

He picks a daisy and twirls it between his steady fingers.

"What'd you do if I was a pureblood?" he asks, when it's been quiet between them for about fifteen minutes.

Andromeda feels the air change, as though she could hear it rustle around her.

So he's been the one to finally bring it up, then. This thing between them and why it could and should never possibly exist.

Andromeda takes a long breath before she answers, and her mother would be proud of the haughtily detached delivery of her answer,

"Probably have my mother and father talk to your parents and arrange a supervised meeting to discuss a courtship leading to a potentially successful marriage. Depending how high your blood status was." She snatches her gaze away from the endless dark of the forest to glance at him.

He is frowning. She feels her chest clench at the sight.

"Maybe just agree to go to Hogsmeade with you," she adds, almost softly, wanting to ease the frown from his forehead. Missing his stupid grin already.

There is another Long Silence. Andromeda leans her head back and closes her eyes against the sky. The light spring wind smells like change and blows her long hair across her shoulders and without looking at him she knows Ted is watching her closely, in the way boys watch girls they're captivated with. She feels him watch her. Because every Black girl knows when she holds a man's attention.

"What would you do if I was a Muggle-born?" she asks, finally. Because he set this game up and now it's waiting to be said.

Andromeda tilts her head to look at him over her wind-blown chestnut hair and her pearly-pale shoulder and even though he's a few feet away from her, reclining on his elbows, she sees the flare in Ted's eyes clearer than she's ever seen anything. His kind grey eyes, almost as big as hers, are suddenly lit with a fire that warms the inside of her stomach.

She knows a moment before he does it what he will do. He's going to kiss me. No time to move away, not that she would.

Ted lunges across the few feet between them with sudden messy urgency and his mouth is warm and commanding on hers. It sends stunning shocks through her as the urgency floods her body from his and she realizes how long he's wanted to do this.

Andromeda feels very light, almost weightless. All of her senses are concentrated on the place where Ted's mouth presses insistently against hers. Is this how the Hufflepuff girls felt when he kissed them? Now that she knows what she was missing she can't think why she waited so long for it.

They fall back in the cool grass. His strong Quidditch-player arms protect her mostly from the fall and she feels like swooning. A thousand generations of Black women would be turning in their graves if they knew.

The grass is crushed beneath them. Ted's large body covers her though he holds his weight off her, being gentle and reverent with everything but his mouth. His tongue is now battling hers for dominance, and Andromeda didn't know kissing could be so much fun.

She half-landed on a tile of slate fallen from the old shed roof when Ted laid her down. It's cold and smooth cutting into her back. It is a counterpoint to Ted's large hands so warm, running up her sides, massaging all the way up her arms and shoulders, as she releases soft sounds of tension she never knew she held into his mouth.

One of Ted's hands tangles in her hair, marveling in hot whispers at its silky feel, pads of his fingers massaging her scalp. Andromeda has never been touched so intimately and the combination of sensations is driving her quite dizzy. She sighs over and over, feeling strangely safe surrendering her strength to him.

Ted's other hand strokes her cheek like she is made of finest porcelain, and then he is murmuring "Dromeda" against her throat. His lips are so soft; she never expected them to be. Years later she will remember so clearly the smell of pine from the forest, all tangled up with the smell of finally being close to him.

After couple of minutes, or possibly hours, they come up for air.

Ted is grinning like he's just won the lottery. Andromeda's mother would remind her that he certainly has.

Her mother would remind her of a lot of things, none of which she wants to let spoil this moment.

So instead she looks up at him through passion-heavy lids and smiles wickedly,

"Maybe we can play Muggle again?"

Ted's grin gets so wide it threatens to split his face and he sort of love-wrestles her back to the ground like an affectionate bear to kiss some more. With a surge of playful dominance, Andromeda rolls them so she is on top, and enjoys all the new ways she is learning to make Ted surrender to her, as he encourages her with whispers of, "'Dromeda, oh, 'Dromeda".

Kissing with the strength of a Black, finally, at least. Even if she is kissing entirely the wrong boy in ways that feel entirely right.

They don't go in until after dark and between that and kissing they spend some time just snuggled—yes snuggled, finally—together looking at the stars.

Andromeda shows him the constellation she's named for and thinks Hyacinth McKinnon had a point about Ted's comfy chest.

"It'll be all right, 'Dromeda," his words are fuzzy as he nuzzles her ear. "We'll be all right now. I got you." His arms wrap impossibly secure around her and even though she knows more than she'd like to about what could be done to people like Ted, and people like her if she continues playing Muggle, Andromeda believes him.

On the way back to the castle Andromeda decides she doesn't want anyone else experiencing the comfortable-ness of Ted's chest. He is delighted to be the object of her possessiveness—another inescapable Black trait.

They break up with Matilda and Thorfinn respectively and they continue playing Muggle (in secret) the rest of that term, and through seventh year, and even next Christmas when she manages to sneak away from her family to meet his for Christmas dinner.

Ted's house is every bit as messy and disorganized as Andromeda would have imagined. Once she overcomes the urge to attack it with a cleaning spell, Andromeda feels more at home there than she ever has in her family manor. She's abandoned being surprised at herself by now and decided to see where playing Muggle takes her.

They play Muggle as Andromeda watches the Christmas specials on the 'Felly-Vision' on Ted's lap. In jeans borrowed from his sister (because his family would be confused by her fine robes) Andromeda feels almost comfortable in the Muggle part she is playing. Ted's hands, as steady as they were when they first rescued her scarf, are always warm, and always there for her to hold.

Not being used to such affection, it takes Andromeda a while to realize she doesn't want to ever be without him again.

Ted's parents couldn't be prouder when he tells them about the job interview he got for a job reading the Muggle news on the 'Felly-Vision'. Andromeda doesn't really understand it, but apparently it's prestigious to Muggles. She thinks Ted, with his soothing pleasant voice, would be good at delivering news.

Playing Muggle is Andromeda's new favourite game, and as long as Ted keeps looking at her like that and tickling her in the way he does and keeps his strong warm arms around her at just the times she needs them, she wonders if she might not mind playing Muggle forever.

The End. (Well, we all know what happens after this - marriage and a baby with pink hair! Who DOES inherit her mother's clumsiness!)