Still Too Young

Andromeda resolutely ignored the bottle on the uppermost shelf.

It was dark, and slightly rusted near the top. It was a deep, dark, polished bottle, with an ornate top and an unpleasant-looking substance enclosed within its thick glass walls.

It sat on the very top shelf of a rather high bookcase of sorts in her Uncle's study, where she'd been left, locked in after smashing one of her Aunt's finest plates.

How on earth was SHE supposed to NOT break things? She was Andromeda Black, Meda, known klutz and disgrace of the family. Well - she allowed herself a small smile - not the biggest disgrace, that'd be-

Speak of the devil.

"Hello, Sirius," she smiled coyly, admiring, as always, her cousin's graceful movements, shining black hair, and light blue eyes, sparkling as always with some deliciously planned mischief.

"Hello, my clumsy little Meda," she blushed as he stepped towards her, sitting backwards on the chair she stood in front of and tilting his head at her, hair falling into his eyes in a deliciously irresistable manner. Ye Gods, only 13 years old and already perfect, impossible to think that he could possibly get better, yet, somehow, Andromeda knew - he would.

Sirius reached out and pushed a lock of his cousin's long, reddish blonde hair behind her ear, momentarily caressing her jaw before shaking his head and smiling, and repeating the phrase Meda'd been hearing his [wonderful, gorgeous, pale pink, sultry, and, Meda was sure, soft] lips utter all the 3 weeks she'd been staying with him: "Still too young, too young, Sirius."

He sighed and looked back up at her, dazzling her with a smile before she could think to ask him what he meant "too young", although she reckoned she had a right fair idea of it.

"So, Meda," he said, grinning like mad at the starry-eyed girl. "What've you been doing?"

His blue eyes followed the gaze of her dark green ones as she looked slowly up to the bottle, and his charming, lop-sided grin was replaced almost immediately by a scowl.

"Don't you be messing around with Their things, Meda," he said, as always not dignifying his parents with mention of their names. "You don't want to be getting them mad for that," he held out his arm, showing frightfully recent scars on the inside of his arm which Meda blinked at; they looked frightfully close to Muggle lashing scars, but she knew that her Aunt and Uncle would have thought up something far more painful. "Trust me," he smiled bitterly, pulling the sleeve of his robes back down.

"Come on, little Meda-Moo," he said, using the pet name he'd given her when she was but 2 years old, delighted at the first cousin he'd had who didn't seem intent on assimilating him into the majority of the family's beliefs. She'd be mad if anyone else used such a ridiculous name on her, but Sirius ... She giggled as he swung her up into his arms and carried her out and off to his room, the attic, which was always gloomy alone, but both Sirius and Meda agreed it was a wonderful place when it was the two of them there, locking the door and sitting together complaining about their family continuously.

Sirius looked at his cousin as he carried her off, and frowned slightly. 'Only six months younger than you, mate, but still - too young. Too young.'