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Chapter 49: Intimate chat with Andrómeda
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 02:48:19 +0000 UTCAndromeda and Ryan reached the Transfiguration classroom. There were still a little over thirty minutes, and five minutes, to go before class began.
Andromeda walked confidently toward a desk near the window, but when she turned around, she saw him behind her.
“What is it? Are you going to sit nearby for professional reasons too?”
Ryan stopped, as if he had just realized something.
“No…” he said with a slightly guilty smile. “Actually, I don’t have a good excuse for that.”
She raised an eyebrow, amused, and continued on without saying another word.
Ryan sat a few seats away, not right next to her, but not too far either. Close enough to see her and maybe keep talking if the opportunity arose.
Both took out their Intermediate Transfiguration books. The room fell quiet.
Andromeda didn’t open her Transfiguration book, though, instead, she pulled out her small one, the same she had been reading at breakfast.
Ryan glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Not for long. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. If she was there this early, it was to read in peace, not to be watched.
So he lowered his gaze.
With his griffin quill, he began to write discreetly, large enough that if Andromeda looked his way, she could read it.
Then he set the quill down on his desk and opened Intermediate Transfiguration, flipping to the last few pages. With his x2 glasses, he’d already finished reading this book long ago, but it was good to reinforce his knowledge.
Minutes passed.
Andromeda didn’t look up. She kept reading in silence, her eyes gliding attentively over each line.
At one point, Ryan’s quietness struck her as unusual, based on what she knew of him, she’d expected him to be more persistent. Maybe she even wanted him to be. She shifted her gaze ever so slightly. And there he was.
Ryan, completely at ease, flipping through the last pages of his Transfiguration book. His posture relaxed. The famous griffin quill resting on his desk.
But that wasn’t what caught her attention. What did was the message written in the air, easy to read even from a few meters away:
"What book could possibly be so interesting that it makes you ignore the inventor of the century?"
Andromeda exhaled softly through her nose, a smile tugging at her lips despite her best effort to hide it. She set her small book down and picked up her new gray quill. With a flick, she wrote in the air, then returned to her reading.
A few minutes later, Ryan looked up, unhurried. He pretended to stretch a little while his eyes drifted straight to the air before him, right where his message had been.
And there it was. Her reply, glowing in silvery-gray letters:
"The book is Celestial Cartography. And yes, surprisingly more interesting than an inventor with an inflated ego."
Ryan couldn’t help but smile. He picked up his griffin quill, wrote his answer, and then went back to reading his Transfiguration book.
Andromeda forced herself to keep reading a few more paragraphs, though her eyes were no longer truly focused. From the corner of her vision, she could see that Ryan’s message had changed, the golden letters were no longer the same ones as before…
But she couldn’t look up so soon. Not yet. That would be like admitting she was waiting for it. Like she wanted to keep the conversation going, desperately, even.
A few seconds passed. Finally, she lifted her gaze with feigned casualness.
The new line floated there, bright and arrogant, just like its author:
"Ouch. My ego has been wounded. Don’t you feel guilty?"
"Celestial Cartography, huh? Sounds advanced. Do you like Astronomy, or are you just mapping stars to avoid genius inventors?"
A smile curved Andromeda’s lips.
Unhurriedly, she took her gray quill, erased her previous line, and wrote calmly:
"Yes, I like Astronomy. And the star map isn’t for avoiding anyone, it’s for locating egocentric satellites that orbit too close."
Satisfied, she set her quill aside and resumed her reading as if nothing had happened, though this time, she couldn’t ignore a faint tension along the back of her neck.
She knew that, at any moment, new golden letters would appear.
And she didn’t know why… but she was waiting for them, with an anticipation she refused to acknowledge.
Andromeda waited.
Pretended not to, of course. She kept reading Celestial Cartography, eyes gliding line after line, though not really taking in the content.
Two minutes passed.
Three.
Nothing.
Was he doing this on purpose?
Waiting for her to look up and see that he hadn’t replied yet?
She wouldn’t let him win.
So she kept going. Page after page. Though in truth, she wasn’t making any progress at all. The book might be small, yes, but demanding.
Then, finally, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan’s hand move, writing in the air again.
A minute later, she lifted her gaze, and saw his message:
"Enough already. My ego is starting to bleed."
"So… Astronomy is one of your favorite subjects?"
"And your name’s a galaxy, right? Destiny or family branding?"
Andromeda smiled faintly and began to write leisurely with her quill:
"Sorry for insulting your ego so much. I promise not to hurt it anymore… for today."
"Yes, Astronomy is one of my favorite subjects. I really enjoy it."
"And yes, my family has a cosmic obsession, constellations, galaxies, stars. Andromeda is a galaxy, not just a chained princess from some old myth."
"Astronomy is one of the few things I actually enjoyed learning from the Blacks."
"And you? Do you know anything about it? Because you don’t seem particularly enthusiastic in class."
She finished writing, lowered her quill with elegance, and looked back at her book.
Not to avoid him, but because what she had just said… was more than she usually shared with anyone.
A few seconds later, Ryan looked up, and when he saw the sequence of floating messages, his eyes widened slightly.
She hadn’t just replied. She’d said things that, even for someone like him, a practiced observer and professional opportunist, were unusual.
Honesty. Vulnerability.
A glimpse into the private world of a Black.
He thought carefully before writing his reply, something he rarely did.
But with her, it was worth taking his time.
Line after line, he wrote. And when he was done, he casually went back to reading his Transfiguration book as if nothing had happened.
Andromeda looked up not long after and read the first message:
"It’s a relief you’re not attacking my ego anymore… though if that’s the price for talking to you, I guess I’ll endure it."
One eyebrow lifted, elegant, inquisitive.
So that was it? He wanted to talk to her?
Of course it made sense. He’d been watching her in the Great Hall. He’d followed her here, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He’d started this whole exchange.
But reading it, seeing it written out so plainly, was different.
She moved to the next message:
"Bellatrix is a star, right? So even if she’s your older sister… technically, you’re a galaxy. Cosmically superior. Just saying, for future sibling arguments."
This time, yes. The laugh escaped her, soft, subtle, but clear.
A sudden melody in the empty classroom.
And though she lifted a hand to her lips to stifle it, it didn’t help much.
Ryan heard it.
And inside, he felt as though he’d unlocked something far more valuable than any formula or book the system could ever sell him.
Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe it was just his hormones betraying him.
Andromeda moved to the third message, her expression turning more serious.
"Seems like you’re not on great terms with your family from what you said… But it’s good that you managed to find something you love out of it."
This time, she didn’t smile. Didn’t react. She just stared at the words… a few seconds longer than she meant to.
People didn’t usually go that direct. And when they did, it was rarely with that mix of respect, lightness, and warmth.
She took her gray quill, holding it between her fingers for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not to answer.
But she did.
"I suppose I like looking up at the stars because up there, everything seems to have its place…
Down here, it’s getting harder and harder for me to fit in."
Then, to soften it a little, she added:
"I’ll use the ‘cosmically superior’ line in my next argument with Bella."
Ryan didn’t look up right away. But when he finally did, it was as if something wordless had drawn his attention.
He read the first message slowly, eyes lingering on it for several seconds. His expression changed, just slightly, but enough.
Something in his chest felt heavy… and at the same time, a deep sense of respect stirred in him. Not out of pity, but because of the honesty behind her words. The way she had said so much by saying so little.
Then he read the second line, which brought a small smile to his face.
With his griffin quill, he replied almost without thinking:
"You have my full support. If you ever need a presentation with graphs and astronomical calculations, I can offer my services."
And then, without losing the humor, he added another line beneath it:
"And about the other thing… I don’t know if I can help with that. But if you ever want to talk to someone… I’m orbiting nearby, if my presence doesn’t bother you."
This time, Andromeda looked up openly, no longer pretending not to, no longer worried about seeming impatient. She didn’t care anymore.
The first message made her smile slightly, inevitably. And then came the next one, softer, quieter:
"And about the other thing, I don’t know if I can help with that. But if you ever want to talk to someone, I’m orbiting nearby, if my presence doesn’t bother you."
Her expression froze for a moment, then her smile shifted, became more real, more sincere.
She felt something unusual: understanding without pressure. Presence without judgment.
She looked at Ryan. He was already back to his book, or pretending to be, though he hadn’t turned a single page.
Andromeda straightened slightly, and for the first time in that strange conversation, she broke the silence with her voice.
“Are we going to keep communicating like this all morning?” she asked, not with irony or annoyance, but with a curious mix of amusement and honesty. “Or do you plan on talking to me out loud too, Ollivander?”
Ryan looked up, surprised by the change, then smiled slowly.
“I thought you preferred silence,” he said, closing his book. “But if I’m officially allowed to use my voice, I can be far more annoying than through written messages.”
Andromeda raised an eyebrow, as if issuing a playful challenge.
“I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”
“Then…” Ryan said, as if negotiating a treaty, “do I have official permission to sit beside the galaxy Andromeda, or are we keeping this orbital game long-distance?”
She regarded him, eyes narrowing in mock assessment… until she smiled.
“You have permission, Ollivander. But don’t abuse cosmic proximity.”
“Never,” he said, standing with exaggerated solemnity and crossing the small distance between them as if he were changing hemispheres.
