noble ;

A small grin curved along the edges of Alastor’s mouth before it stretches into a broad, cat-satisfied, grin. “Is it working? I feel like we would be wonderful, darling, truly wonderful.”

This was what was so easy about Andromeda Tonks - she gave back as good as she was given, and she had no qualms about it.

“Truly, though, he should rest. We all need to. It’s been…a long few days.” Moody’s eyes sought out her arm again, noticing when she places a hand over it but saying nothing. He suspected if was almost entirely mended. Ted would have seen to that if Andromeda had not. Moody wasn’t worried for that.

When Nymphadora is mentioned, Moody’s smile softens and he nods. “She’ll get better, I’m sure. ’S jus’…growing pains. But I would love to, if it’s not any trouble. Though you know me: always do like to cause it.”

Andromeda sighed playfully, as if it was indeed such a drastic decision to consider -- to leave or not to leave her husband for Alastor Moody. "I believe we have missed our shot, dearest. You are about a decade and one pregnancy too late!" At least they could still have this kind of banter, this spark of joy sprinkled in, despite most of their days being spent discussing war tactics and strategies.

He was right in saying the last few days had been long. Awfully long. "I've been telling him the same thing, but you know how he is," she raised her shoulders in a shrug, as if she wasn't even more stubborn than Ted on her good days. "But things will settle down soon. Then I'll make sure he gets his rest."

Andromeda made a noise that was familiar to him - it meant she’d disagree. And Ted shouldn’t be surprised. They’d disagreed about the their differences more than once; though Andromeda had rarely downplayed his hardships, she didn’t always understand them. She tried too, though, and that was more than he could say about a lot of purebloods he knew. A lot of her family.

She had a point, though. She was the one making the decisions to leave her family or leave him, which was different than Evan and Theodosia’s situation - but he didn’t agree that Evan had it worse. He gave her a look at that and she’d know that he was about to spike his own disagreement, just like he’d known with her little hum from before. “We don’t know he’s being forced,” Ted replied, his tone even, still pleasant. They weren’t fighting this time - it was a discussion. If they were fighting, it would’ve felt tense, uneasy. Rather, there was a lightness around them as his fingers continued to stroked her skin, down her neck to her arm.

“Evan will be in less danger over this, Andy,” he pointed out. “What happened with Potter wasn’t typical… they were making a statement with him, in a different way than they were with the others. Theodosia will be the target. And…” He paused, looked up, considering his words. “… if they can take out the child with her, they will.”

It was a hard topic of conversation, given their own situation. Selwyn wasn’t a muggleborn, Ted was. Evan and her weren’t married, Ted and Andromeda were. The child hadn’t yet been born, while Dora was right here. Change the names and the situation just slightly and Ted might’ve been talking about their own lives, their own danger, their own daughter as a target.

He snorted lightly as she agreed they were in love, at the very least, but she couldn’t help judge them anyway. It was unkind, but no one had claimed the Black family to be the epitome of nice and she was one of them, even now. “People make mistakes,” he said with a soft laugh and his hand found her hip, pulled her even closer. “As for the second… it wouldn’t be too late. Would you ever consider it? After the war?” If I make it out alive, he didn’t add.

Andromeda always felt delighted (and a sprinkle of proud, too) whenever she could tell Ted was listening to her side of an argument. A lot of the time she spoke just to hear herself, it was true, but a lot of the time she also believed her point of view of things. And it filled her with joy to know that they could have conversations, discussions where they were both listening to each other. She couldn't ask for a better relationship and she never lost sight of how lucky she got.

It was true that they didn't know if Evan was being forced. It was true, too, that he wouldn't be in so much danger because of it. Andromeda found herself pursing her lips, twisting them to the side as she begrudgingly considered that side of it. Perhaps she didn't feel so keen on calling Theo a gold-digger anymore now that she had been painted the picture of the targeted pregnant woman. It didn't mean she'd back down from her initial point, but she was willing to go easier, understanding what this meant. "Okay. You're right." The golden words in the Tonks household, she did not ever use them lightly. "Yeah-- you're right, he's not as in danger. Still, I think it's suspicious, the whole thing. I'm not sold on it." She just wanted to continue disagreeing.

She hummed at the hand pulling her closer, and it was her turn to laugh when he mentioned a second. A foolishly brave man, to have survived Andromeda pregnant for nine months and suggest they do it again. "I want to say absolutely not, but you look very handsome right now, it's hard to think straight," she sighed, pressing a kiss to his chest, leaning her chin onto it after. She once had planned to have many children -- at least three, like the trio she had found herself growing up in, knowing all the joys that sisterhood brought her and knowing she wouldn't let her kids have the same fate they did. But Dora had been a whole handful once she was born, and with the war going the way it was, it never felt right to have another baby. But maybe it was an idea she could pick up from the back burner. "Would you want another one? I could be persuaded."

Frank readily followed Andy toward the kitchen, leaning aginst the doorway to stay out of her and her wandwork’s way. For a moment, he looked around at it all with a bit of awe. He couldn’t do anything like this. No, all the benefits of having a house elf were well worth it, but Nooly got rather finicky about Frank and Alice spending too much time in the kitchen. Andy, though, belonged here. She’d made it an artform all her own.

He glanced up as she looked at him, and Frank offered her a small smile. “It looks good already,” he promised, then listened carefully as she described how she was feeling. Her elbow looked fairly normal, so Frank hoped it felt that way too.

While he might normally have responded with an automatically pleasantry, Frank knew Alice wasn’t asking to get the neutral answer. He took a moment to consider, to assess how his week was going, before letting out a sigh. “I’m a little bit exhausted,” he admitted. “I’m sure Ted’s in a similar boat, but it seems like after a mission, things only get more hectic at work every time.” He didn’t want to dwell on that being because things had gone wrong. He didn’t want to focus on that. They’d kept all the families safe; that was the important part. “Mostly I’m all right or as much so as is normal for things like this.”

x

Andromeda could see the concern in Frank's eyes, and she appreciated it. She'd gotten her fair share of are you okays this past week while she healed up her elbow, and despite how it could usually become grating after a while, for now she felt grateful, for being taken care of. She had friends who cared about her and her family, that wasn't something she took for granted.

"Exhausted does seem to be the common ground," she offered, sympathetic. Yes, Ted had been in the exact same boat, and herself as well. Their entire floor at the Ministry was working overtime, running around putting off fires, it was hard not to carry it all back home. All things considered, Nymphadora was dealing pretty well with her parents' absence. Perhaps that was one of the silver linings of her growing up. Frank didn't mention anything with Alice, to which Andromeda felt the utmost need to pry on, because they were good friends and she wanted to know if they were okay. It was half real concern, half wanting to have something to gossip about whenever Ted arrived late this evening. "And at home? Everything okay? With Alice? I saw her yesterday, you know, for a girls' chat."

Alice didn’t bother trying to hide her grimace of mingled sympathy and distaste at Andromeda’s reminder that the Tonks household had no elves to manage it. “I cannot even imagine trying to make-do without one,” Alice said with absolutely genuine sincerity. “The both of you deserve some kind of medal or something,” she continued, only half-joking at most. “I can tell you that our flat wouldn’t look near so tidy if it were down to just Frank and I to take care of the place. You’re a bloody miracle-worker is what I think.” And doing all that with a child to look after, too. Merlin’s tits, Alice didn’t think she’d even be able to get herself dressed in the morning if she had to balance job, Order, parenting, and elf-work. If anything proved that the Blacks really were a cut above the rest of them, it was how well Andromeda had adjusted to life not as a Black anymore.

She waved away Andromeda’s compliment with a smile as she plopped down and lifted the teapot, pouring for Andromeda first (Alice could be coarse but she wasn’t entirely uncivilized, whatever her mother might say), forgoing the usual dollop of milk and sugar after a slight pause and a raised eyebrow to make sure her friend was taking her tea the usual way today and not giving in for once to the desire for sweetening. “You know full well that I didn’t do any of this work, so you might as well sit back and let yourself be spoiled a little bit for once,” Alice smirked. “Noolly would throw a strop if you didn’t.” Maybe it wasn’t exactly polite to talk about one’s house-elf with company, true, but Alice had been friends with Andromeda for so long that they were more like family (except that they were both still on speaking terms with each other, so not anything like family for either of them, really), and by now Andromeda knew that the Longbottoms’ elf was horrified by the fact that the Tonkses didn’t have one to look after them and thus always went a little bit above-and-beyond when Andromeda was involved, as though she could somehow make-up for their lack of elf-help the rest of the time.

Alice wasn’t going to complain. Today’s tea cakes really did look splendid.

She fixed her own tea and took a fortifying sip before she grimaced and said, “A bit, yeah.” Alice blew out a long huff of air that was less of a sigh and most of a wordless acknowledgement of how truly and utterly fucked everything was. “Before we get into the messy stuff, though, can we start with the fact you somehow lost a whole-ass entire elbow getting those kids out? Merlin’s hairy toes, Andromeda, you’ve gotta take better care of yourself. You’ve only got two of those, you know. They’re a scarce commodity.”

Alice's grimace at the Tonks household's lack of a house elf was always taken as an ego booster by Andromeda. "I am a miracle-worker, actually," she agreed in an easy hum. It had taken years, spells upon spells upon spells, so many hours of dedication before she had perfected most of the magic she used on the daily now. She could write a goddamn book on spells she used to organize shelves and tidy up entire rooms in one sweep, and if she had any interest in sharing her secrets, perhaps she would. The part of her that was left behind with her husband and newborn, isolated and left to take care of a house on their own -- that part didn't care to share shit with anyone.

Careful hands wrapped around the teacup that Alice had prepared for her, giving her a nod to indicate it was perfectly fine without any additions. "Noolly is so good to you, and to me. I'm going to slip some of these into my purse when you're not looking," she teased, politely waiting for her friend to take a sip so she could have one of her own, too. The tea warmed her all the way down to her chest, and she felt a sudden burst of gratitude, that they still had the time and the connection to be able to do just this, sit inside and gossip over some tea. These days, it was getting easier to see the little things in life.

Her lost elbow wasn't exactly the subject Andromeda had in mind to start this off, but she'd take it. Scoffing, she dismissed Alice's concerns with a wave of her hand, though there was still kindness in her eyes. "I know, I know, it was messy. But I'm fine. It was no big deal, you see, I'm growing a brand new one." She extended one arm out and bent it right back, as if she needed to prove that the new joint was working perfectly, despite the dull, distant ache she still felt. "What about you though, and that foul Fiendfyre encounter?" She cringed sympathetically. "I've heard it was quite the occamy." Meaning, a problem of unknown proportions that only grew larger and larger the longer it sat there. "Are you properly healed up by now? How are you feeling?"

Evan & @drxmedatonks​ 29 June, 1984 - La Licorne

Evan should have expected offering to pay to turn into Andromeda picking one of the most expensive dining establishments they could brunch at. Should have, yet hadn’t. It was enough to leave him chuckling after reading over her response. The price was meaningless. At least, for right now. Having to toss decent looking clothes on instead of dressing down was the one thing he would complain about if it came down to being asked. He doubted she would want his opinion on the place anyway.

Decent menu - with that having been decided from the place being his youngest sister’s favorite restaurant. The coincidence served as a reason to properly scan the place before picking a table out in the back. No sign of Evanthe or his other sisters. It should have come as a relief. Instead, he was left absentmindedly stirring tea with a spoon, only looking up when the seat across from him was pulled away from the table.

“Of all the places you could have picked, you went with Evanthe’s favorite,” He muttered before properly greeting Andromeda. Evan pressed his tongue against his cheek and forced himself to look up. He could play civil. Too much time was spent eyeing his reflection in the mirror and trying to find the handful of things he wanted to say that morning to not offer that little bit of respect. “We’ll pretend I tossed a good morning in there,” He added then shook his head. “Thank you for joining me.”

x

Andromeda wasn't a very lavish person at her core, but that didn't mean she was completely stupid. If her cousin was offering to pay for brunch, desperate enough and still with access to daddy's money in the bank -- then she would do the petty thing and pick the most expensive place just for the hell of it. She found joy in the smallest of things, you see.

"Evanthe has good taste," she responded as she sat down, equally uninterested in the pleasantries of greetings. "The scones here are heavenly. The only place better than this is a muggle hole-in-the-wall just outside of London -- and I assumed you wouldn't want to risk being seen with a blood traitor and at a muggle shop all in one." Her grin was wolfish, half amusement and half the usual baring of teeth she often seemed to sport. Andromeda was here to help, to offer her cousin a kind hand in his moment of need, but that didn't make her forget that she was never offered the same hand in return. She would not forget that she and Ted had been the ones left behind, cut off completely, no cute little brunches to be had with helpful cousins. No, Evan had stayed as silent as the rest of them. She was a bigger person and she had advice she was willing to give, but that didn't make her any less bitter towards her bloodline.

Ted laughed lightly as Andromeda shrieked out in surprise, lowering her voice at the last minute. That was one thing he’d never really had before Andromeda - someone to gossip with. Not that Ted was much of a gossiper in general, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it with his wife. And there was no one who could do it as well as her.

The mood shifted a moment later, however, as Andromeda touched his chest lightly, giving him a pleading look that he didn’t quite understand until she spoke. There was a flash of annoyance that passed over his expression, but just because he knew how far she’d come in her life and, yet, she still had so much more to go.

He didn’t speak with any heat, however. He appreciated Andromeda for who she was and what she gave and knew she was trying. “People said the same about me,” he reminded her gently, reaching up to run the back of his fingers over her cheek. He brushed her hair back over her shoulder and let his hand find the small of her back as she looked down at him from her place on her stomach. “No, darling, I don’t think that about her. Neither may be my favorite person, but I do believe they are very much in love.”

x

The anticipated retort came, and Andromeda hummed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes -- even in fondness, it was a habit she should quit; she was hyper aware of it now that their twelve-year-old had become a mirror. "It's different," she insisted, leaning into the hand briefly on her cheek.

"I had all the choices. My body carrying the baby, my family disowning me, my love for you. What I had to gain and lose, it was all in my hands." She continued, because of course she wouldn't let an argument go so easily, attached to her views like a rabid dog to a bone. It made sense to her, to see the disparities between their situation and Evan's now, and she needed to make that clear. "Evan is in a much worse spot, you have to agree. It's either being disowned, or disowning his own child, if Theodosia insists on keeping it. His hand is being forced here."

If roles had been reversed with them, she likely would've terminated her pregnancy, not wanting Ted to have to choose between his family or this possible baby. But that was easy for her to say now, knowing everything she went through getting disowned. She didn't wish it on anyone; it was a pain in the arse on the good days, and absolute agony on the bad days. She wouldn't want Ted to go through it. She went through it because of her own choice, she chose him and their new family. It was different. She leaned down, pressing a light kiss to her husband's shoulder, just for the sake of staying close. "Fine, yeah, they are in love. I don't think I'd doubt that, either." She let out a sigh, eyes momentarily elsewhere as she thought about the situation some more. "But anyway-- how old are they, an accidental pregnancy at this point? I mean, Merlin, that's infuriating. Behaving like kids. And don't even compare it again-- we never had a second, did we? We're adults. Come on."

Wila didn’t like being caught in moments of grief. Especially not the ones where she wanted to rage at the people that took her sister from her. She had had to return to work the day after her sister’s funeral. Her parents had gone to Thailand to get away from it all, leaving Wila to be the public face of their family and the company. She knew that they were all watching her, waiting for her to break her composure and completely melt down. But she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. So she had learned how to harden the mask and bury the feelings of grief until she was alone. 

She had never really considered that Andromeda could possibly be someone that understood what she was going through. She had lost her family too, albeit in a different way. But perhaps Andromeda’s loss was less final. Nothing could bring Sarai back to her. But Andromeda’s family was continuing on and growing without her. But Wila didn’t even know how she would possibly bring that potential connection up. Wila’s grief was something that she held close to her, it was something that was only let out in private. 

“Thank you,” Wila replied politely. Ted’s…weirdness around her hadn’t escaped her notice but she didn’t know what the cause of it was. Maybe she just made him uncomfortable. There were plenty of men that felt the same way. At the mention of the little one, she nodded her head. “How old is she now?” Wila questioned. “She must be getting so big.” She could still remember the stories and warnings that the child’s conception and subsequent birth had created. Her mother had made sure that she knew how to use a contraceptive potion by seventeen. Glancing down at the book again, she forced herself to remain calm and even. “I’m…not sure. Sarai loved them,” she murmured after a long silence. 

x

Talking about Nymphadora would always be easy. Andromeda had never shied away from talking about her biggest accomplishment in life -- even if said accomplishment would drive her completely mad, half the time. "She's already twelve, actually. So not so little anymore," she corrected her own previous statement, fondness in her voice as she chuckled. Dora would likely find it in her to be pissed off if she heard her mom still treating her like a little kid. She was all about independence these days. It was alarming how much she took after her own mother. "I'm sure she'll be taller than me in no time."

It was always funny, how people who were hardly ever close to the Tonks could say she must be getting big, as if they were ever present for Dora's earlier years. It's funny, in the way that it's ironic, because Andromeda and Ted had to deal with an eerily empty house once they moved out; just a bunch of ghost stories and no friends who stuck around to help them when they needed it most. But everyone still felt like they knew them, because they knew of them. Perhaps she should start collecting stories to make a memoir-- where were you when you learned Andromeda Tonks was pregnant and disowned?

The silence after the book question almost made Andromeda backtrack, but when the response finally came, it made sense. Her eyes turned kind, lips pressing into a thin line for a moment. "My apologies. I..." She trailed off, pausing. It was difficult to figure out which woul doffer more comfort, to draw the parallel between their situations, or to point out the ways in which they differ. She tried to fall somewhere in between. "It must be hard. I know."

Dearest Andromeda, This is written under the assumption that you are aware of rather recent news involving me that I would have preferred mentioning in person instead of being broadcasted for your husband to hear in the infirmary. Thank you, Alice. Would you feel up to joining me for brunch this week? I have a few questions that are best answered face to face instead of via owl. You can pick the location since I'm not comfortable with hosting at my place. I'll pay. - Evan

The owl is unfamiliar, which makes her wary as she opens the window to let it in. The pecking at her hand certainly doesn't help, but as soon as Andromeda opens the letter to see her cousin's name at the very end, she understands it. Picking up a quill, she writes quickly and sends it back through the same owl.

Dear Evan,

I was expecting your letter. I can do brunch this week, just let me know the date and I'll figure out my work day around it. I'm not picky. Meet me at La Licorne?

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s done that,” Evan shook his head. “Although I would hope the end result makes up for my cheek from earlier.” Alastor didn’t scare him but he wouldn’t stand for being called childish again if Andromeda’s complaints turned into needing a proper discussion about his behavior.

Evan was all too used to dealing with the messier parts of healing. It was a rather notable feat since he had been a little squeamish when training to first take on a position. Not that he would let Andromeda know about that little fact.

He was all too proud to keep the calm and collected appearance until certain the wound was healed enough to be able to release Andromeda from the infirmary. “Hopefully you won’t have to go through that again,” Evan wrinkled his nose at the thought. He didn’t mind treating Andromeda but the threats had been a little much. That and knowing it would likely turn into his being blamed if he matched the level of swears and threatening Andromeda used. He knew better. His early childhood had been spent surrounded by females. Three sisters, three cousins. There was no way of winning as one of the oldest members of the group of kids and being the only heir out of the seven children between his father and his aunt.

“Be careful with it,” Evan nodded when she rejected his offer of a splint. It wasn’t all that surprising but the question was one he almost always ended up asking while at work. He couldn’t shake those aspects of the job when dealing with the Order. “I would say give it at least twelve hours,” He answered. “That should be enough time for the bone to grow back without risking further damage to it. I can also get a dreamless sleep potion if you think that will assist for sleeping through that.” Evan couldn’t imagine it being painful enough to require it. Uncomfortable, yes but it was a smaller bone to grow back instead of needing to regrow the entire limb or worse. “You should be good to go once I get the potion from the storeroom.”

The end results. Andromeda scoffed again. Given this rate, she would end up giving herself a headache with how many times she wanted to roll her eyes to the back of her head. Nymphadora definitely got this habit from someone, and it wasn't Ted.

Still, now seeing that they were in the very last stages of this healing appointment, she knew to bite her tongue instead of dragging this out longer. She wanted to be free from this spot, to stop feeling like she was being done a favour in any way. It made her skin crawl -- she wasn't exactly good at letting people take care of her unless they were Ted, and even that was subject to the right circumstance.

Alice was three days recovered from her experience with the fiendfyre now and had finally gotten enough sleep to stop feeling tired all the way down to her damn bones. That didn’t mean she was feeling good. Too much had happened that left scars that no amount of Dittany could erase, and the question of what to do about Theodosia Selwyn weighed on her still like stone. Seeing Andromeda, then—a friend that she actually knew could be trusted, that she knew understood the cost of this fight and was ready and willing to pay it; already had paid it, years earlier than the rest of them—didn’t exactly lift the weight from her back, but it did lighten it.

“Andromeda,” she said, her dour face cracking into a warm smile, “thank you for coming. You have no idea how good it is to see you. Please, please come in.” She ushered the other woman through the door and into their comfortable parlor-cum-sitting-room. “I’ve had Noolly fix tea,” she continued, gesturing towards the table and its lavish spread of thick scones, tiny colorful cakes, and neatly-sliced finger sandwiches. Alice wasn’t enough of a hostess to be sure if it technically counted as a proper afternoon tea without being placed on the traditional tiered display, but she had told the house-elf she wanted a more casual arrangement and so the snacks were nestled around the magically-warmed teapot and cups on individual plates rather than being stacked atop one another.

Besides, afternoon tea—as certain elderly witches from their overlapping childhood social spheres had liked to gripe, even while horking down more tiny cakes than anyone over the age of fifteen ought to be able to eat in one sitting—was a crass Muggle invention, and no proper house ought to serve it in an official social capacity to their guests. While even the prickliest of magical-traditions-must-be-protected-at-all-cost sticklers had mostly ignored those complaints on the premise that tea with cakes and sandwiches was an extremely pleasant (and tasty) afternoon pasttime, Alice still thought that given the similar choices both she and Andromeda had made in their lives, it was a thoroughly appropriate spread for them to gossip over.

Besides, who didn’t like tiny cakes?

It was a relief that Alice greeted her with such warmth. Andromeda had been so stuck in her own head, imagining all the ways her friend could've been still too cross and too tired towards the whole situation to have the energy to just tittle-tattle with a friend. Not to mention the whole fiendfyre encounter that had seemed to bring back to the infirmary some of the worse-off patients from all the missions. 

"Oh, of course, Noolly! Isn't it so wonderful to have an elf? I kind of miss it, sometimes," she sighed dreamily. This is the kind of thing she'd never bring up with Ted -- and besides, it was fine, she had no intention to actually bring a house-elf into her family, she thought it was better for Nymphadora to grow up without one, too. But she did get tired, every once in a while, of having to charm everything in the house to fix itself without the help of a creature made for it. She'd gone her whole life without ever seeing her mom raise a finger to prepare food. It'd certainly meant an interesting adaptation, to move out when she did.

The spread on the table was certainly more than she was expecting -- more than she would bother put together herself without a helpful house-elf on the job. "You didn't have to do all this, it's perfect!" She sat herself down but, mindful of manners, waited for Alice to indicate they could start their feast, so she could go for one of the marvellous looking scones. Given the pause after their greetings exchange, Andromeda's eyes turned something softer, though her lips still tugged up in a catty smile that promised a lot of venomous gossiping was sure to come. "We have... a lot to catch up on, huh?"

Ted liked the little lazy smile on her face and he liked the fact that he’d been the one who put it there. She looked beautiful like this, splayed out next to him with her curls a bit messy, looking content and happy and sweet. Because, despite what a lot of people might’ve said about his wife, Ted knew that she could be sweet. He saw her with their daughter - he saw her with him. She’d stayed, even after learning about his blood status. She’d stayed and fought for him then and fought for him every day since. So not just sweet, but fierce, too.

It was why he would literally do anything for her. That love that so easily grew between them, even during their hardest of moments.

She let him talk, not interrupting, not trying to put her own two cents. She took a page from his book and gave a little hum, indicating for him to continue. Ted moved his fingers through her hair again. “Well,” he began. “For starters… Rosier and Selwyn are pregnant.” He gave her a heavy look. They knew what this would mean for a family like the Rosiers. Hadn’t they gone through something similar, just twelve years before? “Theodosia informed Alice rather loudly and I overheard - they were… having a row. That’s the second part. But let’s focus on one at a time, shall we?”

x

Her eyes fluttered again at the hand in her hair, the gentle touch enough to send her to sleep on most days, and she scooted impossibly closer to her husband. Sleep would not be coming so early this night, however, not when Ted started his story with such a bombastic piece of gossip. "What?!" She shrieked, catching her own volume halfway through the word and letting it fade out in a huff. She shuffled, because such news couldn't be processed while comfortably splayed out on the bed, and she propped up on elbows by his side. "Are you serious? Pregnant?!"

There was no point in asking that, though; Ted hardly ever played pranks just for the sake of it. Evan had gotten the girl pregnant. Something in her brain was equal parts delighted and frustrated about how careless and stupid they'd been in getting accidentally pregnant -- sure, she suffered the same fate, but she was eighteen at the time, it was different. The bit about Alice and Theo having a fight hardly registered, as Ted predicted, and Andromeda's eyes focused elsewhere as she shook her head. She didn't think Evan was ready for the blow that was about to hit him -- the same one she had felt many years ago, when she walked into her parents' house for the last time, a trembling thing, to announce Nymphadora growing in her belly.

Her eyes moved back to Ted, a pleading hand resting at his chest. Pleading, because it said don't immediately shrug off what I'm about to say. "Do we think she's going for a shotgun wedding? Having a pregnancy to lock him up?" It was different from their case, she knew he'd understand that. They'd gotten quite a shotgun wedding themselves, but she had been the one having a baby and the one getting disowned -- both her choices, choices she made for love. Evan would not have the same choices.

drxmedatonks​:

Andromeda saw it happen, all in the split second before they jumped. There was a scream stuck in her throat, begging to be let out while they were thrown into the safe house. She stumbled onto new ground, where she dropped the mug with a muted shatter noise.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath, her own wide eyes. She looked around, as if the little girl would magically materialise herself at any moment.

“Where’s my daughter? Where is she?! What did you do to her?!” The mother was trembling, her voice getting louder and madder with every word.

Andromeda raised her hands quickly. “No, no, no– I’m going to get her, just give me a second.” Her eyes turned to Gwen, desperate. “Give me a second.”

And then a loud crack.

Going back into the main house had been easy. They’d only been gone for a few seconds, but Andromeda already found the little girl back into that corner, this time sobbing into her hands. Doe eyes looked up at her as she apparated there, filled with something Andromeda couldn’t quite pick out.

“Sweetheart– I’m sorry, it’s okay, you fell off on accident,” she breathed, approaching the girl and kneeling down in front of her, offering to take her hands.

The girl complied, still sniffling back wounded tears as she put tiny hands against Andromeda’s slender ones.

“It was just an accident, you’re safe now. I’m going to get you back to your mom, alright? And your brother. Safe and sound. Just breathe, and count to three.” She squeezed the girl’s hands and took a deep breath herself, hoping the kid would follow.

Apparating with a child this young wouldn’t be an easy task, but Andromeda was skilled. She had the experience, she had the dexterity to do it, she was sure of it. Her hands held onto the girl’s tightly, unwilling to let her go this time, and then she focused. Out of the corner of her eye, a dark shadow creeped into the window.

With a gasp, Andromeda made the jump.

Pressure squeezed her head in, and immediately she felt agonising pain shooting up one of her arms. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, it was excruciating, it was begging for her attention. She focused harder, held onto the girl tighter, and with another crack they were back at the safe house.

The girl ran to the mom’s arms.

Andromeda stumbled towards Gwen, her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes squeezed shut as the pain settled in – worse than before. Her arm was limp by her side, useless. Through the pain, she could barely feel the sickening warmth as blood started dripping down her forearm. Thankfully hidden by her heavy coat.

“Splinch. S– Splinch,” she stuttered out to Gwen, trying to keep quiet, trying to remember to breathe.

------

Gwen stepped forward to comfort the mother as best she could as Andromeda disappeared with a crack. “It’s going to be all right,” she said, trying for soothing. “Her hand slipped off. Andy went to get her. We have multiple ways of transportation that are quick. She’ll get the girl.” 

Gwen looked down at the mug’s remains on the ground and wished she was also a witch to be able to take care of it. Instead she put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and squeezed it to reassure her. “You’re safe now, though. The things Aiden does? Someone much better at this than me is going to explain it to you. You’ll get to understand.”

Before the woman could respond, another crack signaled Andromeda’s return, and Gwen let out a heavy sigh of relief as she saw the girl. Gwen stepped back as the girl ran into her mother’s arms. She felt Andromeda at her side but paid no attention to her as she watched the family reunite. 

Then Andromeda spoke. Gwen turned to her, trying not to let panic slip onto her face as she searched the other woman for what it had been. There was a stiffness to her posture, a tension in her shoulder. Gwen looked down her arm, and while she couldn’t see a splinch from here, that must be what it was.

She stepped toward to put a hand back on the mother’s shoulder. “I hate to do this, but we have to go,” she said.

“What–”

Gwen shook her head, not letting her speak. “Someone else will be here to explain more. I’m so sorry to leave you like this. The house is yours for now. Explore, find rooms. Sleep. You’ve been through a lot.”

She took a step back, hoping the woman would take that as a goodbye, then grabbed Andromeda’s good arm to lead her toward the fireplace. She certainly didn’t expect the other to successfully apparate them both when she’d already splinched herself once.

Frank grinned as he heard Dora call out, only letting a slight twinge of regret settle at her getting older. Once upon a time, she would have come running as soon as she realized it was him. Now she had more exciting things to do. No matter. He was still deemed cool enough for a greeting, and Frank would take it.

“Hi Dora!” he yelled back, then turned to Andromeda with a smile as she appeared from the kitchen. “Hello Andy. Sorry to startle you. And yes, I’ll stay out of your way unless you’d like some assistance.” As he followed her and paused in the doorway to indeed stay out of her way, Frank added, “It didn’t quite seem like a good time to go home yet, and I figured I’d pop by and see how you’re doing.” He glanced at her arm, wondering if that elbow was still giving her problems. 

x

Andromeda knew that Frank was probably lucky to get a hello at all, these days. Nymphadora had a habit of being holed up in her room now, a preteen who thought her parents almost always too boring to hang out with; it was nice to know she still had it in her to be aware of someone's presence and greet them, at least. Andromeda found herself smiling fondly at her kid's antics.

"No assistance needed, don't worry." She gestured for him to follow her, and returned back to the kitchen. Several sets of cooking stations worked together at once, a knife raising itself in the air to cut vegetables, a self-stirring pot that sautéed some onions. With a flick of her wand, a pot of boiling water slowed down to a simmer. She turned back to him at his last comment, schooling her features not to show any overbearing sympathy, in case he'd feel offended by it. Not a good time to go home yet. She didn't know how things were between him and Alice.

"I'm good! Thank you. Almost all healed up already," she smiled, looking down at her own elbow. The bandage had come off by now, and the joints didn't feel so stiff anymore. With a little more weight than usual to the question, she asked, "How are you?"

Alastor had not, as it were, been forced to spend an entire day at the Ministry until this one. Monday he’d been given off for, as he put it, being an empty headed numpty and needing to get his knee checked for a twist when he’d taken a tumble over the weekend. He was, of course, cleared and free to return to work the next day. That did not mean, however, that his body thanked him for it.

Despite the immeidate pain no longer being there, Alastor’s entire body still ached. He had complained about as much to Ted and Frank during their familiar, and much needed, break room griping. The department needed him, however, so off he had gone, whiling the day away in mild discomfort and moodiness.

The end of the day could not come any sooner. Nor, to his delight, could the face of a friend.

The grin on Alastor’s face as he came up alongside Andromeda, reached over to give her a one-armed squeeze and a chaste kiss to the cheek, mirrord her own. “Hullo Andy, darling! Yes, I suspect I’ll do the same, and so should that daft husband of yours,” he teased, shaking his head. Ted worked too bloody hard but, then again, didn’t they all?

“I imagine so, though, naughty delinquents,” he said, a smirk on his face as he shook his head. “They get anymore splinched elbows to be dramatic about? And how’s my favorite little nundu doing with mum and dad out and about? Been so busy, haven’t had a chance to pop ‘round.”

Alastor adored Nymphadora; the pair got along, as it were, like a house on fire, much to her mother’s chagrin.

Once she found herself in the company of a friend, the loneliness Andromeda felt before was even more pressing in contrast. It wasn't a new feeling to get used to, but it was one that often reminded her of how far she was from the young Black girl she'd once been. With her chest full and head filled with self-proclaimed superiority. No, she could afford to say she missed her husband now. She liked it like that.

"He'll be delighted to know you've been attempting to smooth-talk his wife by trash-talking him," she teased back, with a comfortable tug of her lips. Bantering with Alastor was always exactly that -- comfortable. Andromeda enjoyed the man's presence more than she had it in her to say it out loud.

They hadn't really talked in a while. The type of talk where you sit down with tea, and the hours tick by surprisingly fast. The type of talk where one could be as crass or petty or mean as they wanted, gossip laid out on the kitchen table, with no fear of judgement from the face on the other side. Andromeda felt a tug of something guilty for it, in her chest.

From what she'd heard from Ted, the Way Alice seemed to have blown up on Theo was something intense -- disproportionate, even, and akin to someone who'd needed to blow up for a while now. Andromeda wondered if she'd been a bad friend, too engrossed in the chaos of her own life that she forgot to lend a friendly ear from time to time. That wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination; she made a habit out of waiting for people to reach out to her, rather than reaching out first.

So she sent an owl, asking if she could come over, before apparating right outside Frank and Alice's building. It'd already been two days since Ted had talked to her, even more days since the fight in the infirmary. Andromeda was hoping she could see how her friend was doing -- and, if nothing else, at least offer some entertainment by gossiping that what do you mean Theodosia is pregnant?!

"Alice!" She greeted, as the door opened upon her knock. "Thank you for having me. Hi."

Date: June 25th, 1984, around 11 pm Location: Tonks’ home @drxmedatonks​

They’d made up - twice. Ted had known they would. He wasn’t worried for it. They fell in and out of arguments as easily as falling in love had been (though, that, at least they’d never fallen out of). Now, in their bed much too late at night with Andromeda’s hair tickling his arm - their daughter long asleep a few rooms down - Ted grew weary. He’d been up for over twenty-four hours straight (stretching himself too thin) and he struggled keeping his eyes open as he looked at her with his head on the pillow.

But he couldn’t sleep yet. There was too much to say and, for a man who thought words held weight and usually kept them close to the chest for that reason, that meant something. 

Still, he told Andromeda most things and she did the same in return. And the conversation he’d overheard much too early this morning and then the later discussion it spurred with their mutual friend was too much to hold onto, even for one more day. “The infirmary was… interesting,” he began, his voice low with weariness. He ran his fingers through her hair. He hadn’t said he was sorry, but he hadn’t needed to because he’d shown her. Which meant the topic of their argument - said infirmary - would’ve now been considered a safe one to breach.

x

Andromeda was more than pleased that this argument hadn't lasted any longer. By the time Ted walked through the door that evening she was ready to put it well behind them, and she was grateful that he felt the same. They always ended up here, tangled up in the sheets, a blissful sort of closure to every sharp words they exchanged before. Sometimes it took a couple days -- couple weeks, even --, but the certainty that they would eventually be at peace again was as certain as their love, which was about as certain as death. He'd always be the one thing Andromeda was sure of, no matter what.

She could tell he was exhausted. Which was an expected outcome for someone who'd been stretching himself too thin -- an I told you so he wouldn't get, because he'd been generous enough to go a second round, and she was far too satisfied to be petty. Probably a war tactic on his end, but she was guilty of similar crimes. It turned out she didn't care for winning an argument anymore when she was finishing first in other ways.

Her eyes fluttered at the hand in her hair, though she paid attention to his voice all the same. "Hm?" She prompted, knowing there must be a story behind that opening line. These were the less common moments of their relationship, where Andromeda found herself silent, engrossed in whatever he wanted to say. She talked just to hear the sound of her own voice, half the time. But when Ted spoke, it begged her full attention. 

Wila had popped into Diagon Alley to do some shopping after work. She was planning to visit Theo and she was bringing dinner for the two of them and Evan. There was an absurdly long wait to pick up dinner, so she had popped into Flourish and Blotts to kill some time.

She thought that perhaps she would find something to bring to Theo, but she always found buying books a very personal act and she wasn’t entirely sure that she liked the same kinds of books as her friend. Wila typically went for the business section or she sometimes picked up an international newspaper, but she thought that she would try to branch out for once. Walking through the rows of books reminded her of her time at Hogwarts. She hadn’t thought of that time in a long time. Things were happier then, when Sarai was still alive. Before her world had been so irrevocably changed. 

A book title caught her eye, and Wila paused to stare at it. It was the newest trashy romance novel from the author that Sarai had always loved. Seeing the book on the shelf, Sarai reached out and picked it up. It felt like a punch to her stomach, the waves of grief hitting her so suddenly she nearly doubled over. Wila hated books like this, they were full of nonsense and pure fluff and that had never been Wila’s thing. But it was Sarai’s. And she was never going to be able to read it. 

It was the mundane things like seeing a book on a shelf that could send her into the biggest fits of grief. She wondered what Sarai would have thought of it. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to what Sarai liked when she was alive?  The voice of Andromeda Bl–no, Tonks, behind her startled her, and she quickly composed her face into her mask of indifference before she turned to face her. “Lovely to see you, Andromeda. I’m alright, my wrist is finally feeling back to normal. You will have to thank Ted for me again, yes?” She hoped that Andromeda didn’t see through her mask. “How are you doing?” 

x

Andromeda had a good eye. Possibly all the years of living with Ted, his attentiveness must've rubbed off to some extent. She wasn't usually the type to notice people much, a symptom of being a Black, too engrossed in themselves to pay any mind to the people around them. But she was still present enough to pick up on the way Wila seemed to recompose, a certain moodiness behind her words. It didn't have to mean anything -- their week was difficult, the mission had been a success but only through trips and stumbles, it made sense that everyone was shaken up. So she wouldn't make a comment on it.

Besides, Wila always seemed to carry that air about her -- though that was likely a feat of Andromeda's own projecting, wishing she could find in the other woman someone who understood. The grieving of a sister, the pangs of hurt that struck throughout any normal day. Andromeda was stuck in grief over people who were still alive. Every new mention of their name, every distant gossip she heard of anyone adjacent to her sisters' lives, she felt a piece of her heart shatter a bit further. She didn't expect it to be the same as grieving the dead, but she couldn't tell you which one sounded more painful.

"Good. Yes, of course, I'll let him know." She wouldn't, if only because Ted would probably be pretty annoyed that she was striking up casual conversation with the one he assumed to be the spy in the Order. "I am good, thank you. Buying a book for... the little one." She glanced up, from where she could hear the distant stomping of Nymphadora, who had found a friend to wreak havoc with on the second floor of the store. She looked back down at Wila, noticing the novel in her hands. "Is that any good? I've heard of it." Not her cup of tea personally, but Andromeda was a serial small talker.