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It really wasn’t Ted’s fault that he couldn’t focus on the star charts he’d been presented with.
He tried—he really tried. The allegations of Hufflepuffs being dense students wasn’t true—he was brilliant in every other class. He consistently received top marks in those classes.
It just so happened that he didn’t share those classes with her.
Andromeda Black sat across the room from him, head buried in a book. Evidently, she didn't pay attention in that class either, but that was because her entire family line was a cluster of constellations. Her upbringing had been education enough.
She had no idea that she was the source of his less-than-stellar marks in Astronomy. Her chestnut hair fell in waves, obscuring the left side of her face.
He tried (in vain) to wrestle his thought away from that time when he’d bumped into her in the corridor leading from the greenhouse to the Great Hall. Him: ravenous for lunch, sweaty from a long day pruning and weeding. Her: woven baskets in gloved hands, setting a brisk, incautious pace, hair fragrant with vanilla and cloves.
The impact: like stars colliding. Her baskets fell to the floor, and Ted rushed to pick them up, an uncontained flush flaring from his neck to the tips of his ears. He apologised profusely; she roused herself from her daytime reverie and beamed a reckless, generous grin.
From that moment forth, from when he was on his knees staring into her sunlit eyes, he knew.
She knew best how to break him without even trying.
He didn't pray to gods; he didn't pray to magic or fate or whatever was written in the stars.
He only prayed to her. He prayed for her to notice him in the crowded rooms, for her to return even the slightest bit of his secret affections.
Sitting across from him in Astronomy, he wished that he could spend more time in her orbit. She was the only celestial body that mattered a whit to him, the only person who could ever mesmerise him with her gravitational pull.
She closed the book, blowing out a contented sigh. She looked up: her eyes met his from across the room. A small twitch at the corner of her lips, and he was at her mercy.
He knew, as a Muggle-born, it would be his life for this girl.
And, sure as the stars sprinkle the sky, he knew he would always choose her.