She snorted. “ Can’t give you all the good genes now can we? It wouldn’t be fair. ” the corners of her eyes creased with a smile, then she watched them and hummed as she considered their next words carefully. She understood their hesitation. Had mulled their circumstances over the past month carefully. Asking them to abandon the comfortable cocoon of their loneliness would not be easy. But she expected this to be hard and to take time and felt confident in her ability to stick it out until they reached solid land. She has yet to meet a problem she couldn’t out-stubborn.

“ I have no doubt about that. ” War brought out the best in you and the worst in you. “ But I disagree with you. During the second war, after we lost dad and all of our lives were in danger, having someone to share my burden with made all the difference. Things are only going to get harder from here on out, Teddy. No one should face all of that on their own. ” Her eyes went towards her wedding band. It gleamed a fiery orange like her hair. Remus’ love, bound in stone, presented with the stubborn hope and fear that characterized the rest of their time together. They were all scared out of their minds by the end. If she didn’t have Remus, her mom, Teddy, she would’ve never made it through to the end. 

The stones shifted to a bright teal, and she realized she changed her hair without conscious thought. She looked back up at Teddy. “ It’s not only good, Teddy, it’s necessary. ” She put her hands around the warm mug. “ I know you’re scared. But nothing you are or aren’t is gonna turn me away. I’ve loved you since before you were born. The moment I knew I wanted to be a mother, I loved you. I’m not giving up on us just because it’s hard. ”

her hair is a waterfall of colour, starting at the roots and cascading down. embers into oceans. it occurs to them as they watch that they've never met another metamorphmagus. never had anyone to talk to when they sat cross-legged in front of the mirror, wondering if the face they were looking at was even really theirs.

one of a million ways things could have turned out different.

" you make it sound so simple, " trivial, even. " sharing burdens and feeling — " scared. they've been scared before. they've walked alone at night. every shadow an amorphous threat, every gust of wind a whisper. they've woken gasping in the liminal hours before the dawn, certain against all reason that something hungry is waiting for them in the dark. this is different. it's more.

and yet there's no better word to describe the way their heart is beating heavy in their throat.

Tonks watched Teddy like she would a crime scene. Eyes flickered through their features, earmarked and catalogued. Cool stare, rigid shoulders, slight upturn to their chin. Like a tightly wound pressure valve struggling to contain. This was who her mother raised without dads influence. Without their monthly fishing trips, where she talked about her every worry and fear and success. She didn’t know if she would’ve done a better job. She wasn’t there to do it.

I would’ve taken you fishing, she thought. I would’ve carried your worries for you.

It’s fine, Teddy said. Tonks smiled despite herself. Her smile widened at the indelicate hope in Teddy’s last words. “ You sound like your father. He could be dying from an infection and still say he’s just fine. ” She leaned forward and put her chin on her hand. She hummed thoughtfully, looking them over. Every word they said was careful, everything about them squeezed tight enough to fit a capsule. She wanted to find the linchpin that held it all together and pluck it out. 

“ No, we don’t have to, ” she said. “ But I want to get to know you. And I want you to get to know me. Me. Not the weird shiny war hero with rainbows shooting out of its ass. ” She grabbed the handle of her mug with her other hand, thumb grazing the ceramic rim. The bracelet Remus charmed for her clinked against the table. “ Aren’t you curious about that? You must’ve wanted to ask me a million questions growing up. I wish I was there to answer them then, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere any time soon. ”

" ass rainbows, " they repeat. " well. thankfully, that doesn't seem to be genetic. "

growing up, doodling on the backs of cereal boxes and in cheap, paper pads, they always painted their mother in all brights — a bold spectrum of colours entirely at odds with their own muted shades of grey. the older they got, the safer they felt in their certainty that even if she had lived, they wouldn't have been the sort of family to share in secret smiles or in-jokes. there would always have been some gap to bridge, or some translation to wander lost in.

they would have been unknowable to one another.

but the woman sitting across from them is disconcertingly shrewd. there's a glint in her eye that makes teddy shift where they sit, dropping their gaze as though in fear that she might somehow see into their soul.

that's what i'm afraid of, they think but don't say. i'm afraid you're going to stick around long enough to find me out — and i'm not sure what it is i'm even hiding.

it would've been presumptuous of him to ask  — for him to bite the bullet of curiosity. he'd been informed of so much that happened since his passing. his son growing to be a man. a man that married & had children of his own. only to meet his demise, sacrificially. why was he so much like him & he never got to know him properly ? the distant ache reared its head at the thought. he must've known them, or maybe, a version of them. was he supposed to ? 

it took him a long second but he met them with a nod. " it's a lot to — process, " jan simplified. it was better than unraveling the thread of information he'd acquired in the last forty - eight hours.  hands fitted in his front jean pockets, leaning against the railing of grimmauld's steps. it was interesting. even the way they seemed to duck their head to not meet his eye entirely seemed so misplaced. " are you not much of a party go - er ?" he inquired, soft & sympathetic. 

" i don't know who has it worse," teddy muses, flicking ash onto the pavement. " the ones who came back or the ones they left behind. " as soon as they say it, they realise they've counted themselves among the latter. they are the object, not the subject. it makes their stomach twist — imbued with a sudden sense of having lost control of their own life.

they're grateful for the change of pace.

" i don't, " they say carefully. " but i've heard of you. " it's not that they're opposed to lying, but they'd sooner stick to half-truths. it's a small world. it's hardly inconceivable that they'd have heard of another wizard — and a war-hero, no less. " you died in battle in nineteen-ninety-eight. it's twenty-thirty. "

it feels ridiculous — standing in the street, wand at the ready, breaking the news of his untimely death to a father they never knew. they're used to weathering their emotions, to saving face until the doors are locked and the lights are out, but this is another matter entirely. they have so many things they want to say to him, and yet it's so decidedly not the time.

and how would he take it, anyway? he can't be older than twenty-five. twenty-six, maybe. they're coming around to this new reality far more readily than they might have under any other circumstances — but who's to say he'll do the same? if he has any sense at all, and the common opinion is that he's got plenty, he'll think they're either lying or mad.

grandchild?  that  sentence  alone  makes  andromeda  want  to  cry,  maybe  even  laugh  —  she  has  a  grandchild,  now.  "  you're  nymphadora's  child  ...  —  how  old  are  you?  who's  your  father?  is  dora  a  good  mother?  "  her  words  are  quick  as  questions  spill  out,  a  smile  sitting  on  her  face.

nymphadora  was  my  mother.  what  did  they  mean  by  "was"?  it  makes  her  mind  slow  down  to  an  abrupt  halt,  trying  to  gather  herself  back  together.  there  are  no  pictures  on  the  wall  of  nymphdora  older  than  twenty-five.  but  that's  nothing,  right?  nothing.  the  more  she  thinks  about  it,  the  more  her  smile  drops.

then  she  remembers  that  she's  not  alone.  her  grandchild  is  still  waiting  for  a  response,  and  andromeda  looks  stupid  standing  there  doing  nothing.  "  tea?  that'd  be  very  nice,  thank  you.  "  it's  a  familiar  politeness  that  andromeda  usually  reserves  for  family  gatherings  (  a  long  time  ago,  at  least  )  and  her  mother.

teddy nods curtly and pads through to the kitchen, leaving her questions to hang in the air unanswered. how old are you? who's your father? is dora a good mother? they thumb through the cupboards for the mug she used to drink from, retrieving it from the shelf where it usually sits untouched. it feels like a violation — like some sort of punishment. they have their grandmother back, happy and bright and full of life.

and now they're going to have to break her heart.

by the time they return to the living room, they've resolved to be honest with her, and to be there for her if she needs it. when she needs it. they place her mug in front of her — two sugars, no milk. they brew it that way themself sometimes, on the nights when they miss her so much it feels like they've been cleaved in two. they've mourned her — and their parents — a thousand times over in a thousand different ways.

they used to travel that path together. this andromeda hasn't walked there yet.

the room is thick with a cocktail of feelings. elation, that comes with the resurrected— like himself. discourse, that trailed with the war that broke out among the streets at the tearing off the veil. suffocation, a bitter taste in the back of their throats that this was happening — war was to come again. this time, it seemed like no one had their hopes high & among all of that, the father was grappling with the failure on his part. 

his son was gone. harun was a casualty in a war that he was meant to finish when he was just a boy. just a baby. 

somber was the eyes that sought out the front door of grimmauld place, opening the wooden frame to slip through wordlessly. no one had to know of his exit. not when presents were being passed & food was being indulged. jan would find his way outside in silent affliction. needing the time to mourn the way he never quite seemed to get enough time. with the door closing shut to keep the warmth in, his head turned to meet the stranger with a familiarity along their features. still, he nodded in pleasantries. 

jan polat. teddy can't help but stare for a moment, feeling not for the first time as though they're seeing an old photograph made real. they narrow their eyes and search his face for a glimmer of recognition. do you see him in me? is it obvious? this man knew their father. knows their father. they were practically brothers. it's hard not to feel restless and exposed under the weight of his gaze.

" you're fine, " they say eventually, relaxing the longer they stand together in tense, unfamiliar silence. " it can be ... a lot. " suffocating, really. they dread to think how much worse it must be now  — what with so many extra bodies and emotions running high.

teddy can't help but stare, disbelieving. " that's a funny way of saying thank you. " trust him to get hung up on the technicalities. it fits well enough with everything they know about their father. a good man, a hero, and a martyr. they lower their wand a fraction of an inch, squinting through the dark.

when you have eliminated all which is impossible, then  whatever remains,  however improbable, must be the truth.

but surely this is impossible. the dead can't just come back — and if indeed they can, why now? why not sooner? why not any of the nights they spent listening to their grandmother weep herself hoarse? why not when they were sitting on the outskirts of the room, watching the weasley kids laugh and exchange smiles? why not any of the times they wished for it — for them?

teddy hums in acknowledgement. they're not surprised, per se, but it still strikes them as a half-truth. they've already been asking after you. there's a marked difference between that and the more likely alternative — that their name has come up in passing, or perhaps as a throwaway comment. idle speculation.

" no pep talks necessary, " they say. " it's ... well, it all just feels a bit disingenuous — don't you think? " here today, then back to actively creating distance again tomorrow. it's worse somehow than just committing to the new way of things.

there’s  a  moment  of  silence  between  andromeda  and  the  visitor  /  intruder  /  homeowner.  expectant  silence,  like  they’re  both  expecting  something  to  happen  at  any  moment.  the  only  things  that  she  could  hear  was  the  sound  of  the  grandfather  bell  swinging  left  and  right  and  her  own  steady breathing.

she  took  a  moment  to  study  them,  looking  them  up  and  down.  not  a  familiar  face,  for  sure  -  even  though  it  felt  like  a  reunion  to  andromeda,  somehow.  the  features  that  she  could  make  out  in  the  darkness  resembled  no  one  that  she  knew-  maybe  it  was  dora,  pulling  a  prank  on  her.  unlikely,  though.

the  first  thing  that  interrupted  the  silence  was  the  chiming  of  the  grandfather  clock.  it  was  already  a  quarter  over  midnight,  she  noted  with  a  quick  glance.  maybe  that  was  why  the  person  across  from  her  looked  so  tired  -  she  had  probably  interrupted  their  sleep.  andromeda  winced  internally  at  that  thought.  in  her  defense,  she  didn’t  know  the  house  wasn’t  abandoned.

“ that’s  nice, ”  the  statement  sounds  more  like  a  question  with  her  delivery.  “ but  still , you  didn’t  answer  my  question,  —  who  are  you? ” and the question of why she had given her house to them in her will, but that one stayed unspoken.

she's so young. mid-twenties, if teddy had to put a number to it, but with the same bright eyes and high, clear voice. they're struck by a childlike impulse to defer to her authority — to dip their head and apologise under threat of extra chores or a revised curfew. how long has it been since they last felt so small? since they last buried their face in her stomach and hid from the world?

running into their father was one thing. he was, and still is, a stranger to them. if he's the constellation marking their birth, andromeda is the sun — more a parent to them than anyone, and one of two people who really shaped their life in some meaningful way.

they don't flinch at the chime of the grandfather clock, but it's a near thing.

the atmosphere in the party is suffocating, really. only hushed whispers and unspoken for tension that dominique didn't dare to try to break, as much as she could have. the party was only filled with people she knew but didn't want to speak to —  and victoire didn't show, either. she had promised minnie that she would. 

and that made it all the worse. so she had opted for the classic route of ignoring everybody and standing in the corner, holding a glass of champagne ( even though she didn't drink ).  completely out-of-character for her, but she was sure the other party guests were too busy glaring at each other or chattering away to notice. 

eventually, after twenty minutes of idly standing by until it was socially respectable enough to leave the god-forsaken place, she had hurried to the door — grabbing the doorknob with one outstretched hand, champagne glass long forgotten.  

“ oh, it's you- ! ” it was a bit hard to see their face half-covered under the scarf, but she could tell who it was. or at least probably. “ do you want to come in? ” she made a motion for them to come in, even though she was clearly about to leave. 

teddy raises an eyebrow. " it is, " they say carefully, unsure what to make of her tone. it's you. she sounds surprised, but perhaps they're reading too much into it. surprise is neutral. it might be nothing. " i got the invite, so here i am. "

they take stock of her heavy coat and gesture for her to close the door, presuming they're about to be ships in the night. plausible deniability. if anyone asks, they'll claim they were just trying to keep the heat in, not hiding out front like an interloper.

ANDROMEDA  HAD  DIED,  and  then  was  subsequently  revived  by  some  ritual  with  death  caused  by  harun  polat’s  children,  so  she  was  told.  merlin,  why  was  it  always  the  polats?  but  some  nice  girl  had  told  her  that  her  old  house  —  the  one  she  had  bought  with  ted  back  when  they  got  married  and  she  had  left  —  was  still  intact.

she  then  gave  andromeda  floo  powder  and  left  her  alone.  so,  andromeda  being  the  logical  person  that  she  was,  she  stepped  into  the  fireplace  and  took  the  floo  back  to  her  house.

the  house  wasn’t  as  decrepit  as  she  had  expected  it  to  be,  everything  was  rather  intact  and  actually  rather  clean,  something  that  andromeda  appreciated.  still  a  bit  of  a  scare  every  time  she  saw  the  pictures  hanging  on  the  wall  with  her  illuminated  wand,  pictures  of  a  grown  nymphadora  —  she  always  looked  like  ted,  pictures  of  her  and  ted,  looking  much  older  than  she  did  right  now.

it's been a long night. between the supposed destruction of the veil and the ensuing chaos, teddy can't remember the last time they slept. yesterday? the day before last? it's been a while, certainly. and so, after much deliberation and with no small amount of guilt, they return home and kick their shoes off by the fireplace. five hours. maybe six. then, they'll head back out to assist with the clean-up efforts.

when at last their head hits the pillow, they drift into a shallow, fitful sleep. they've always been prone to bouts of insomnia, but this feels like something quite different. a single thread of fear keeps them tethered to the world of the waking.

so naturally, when they hear the floo, they're upright in a matter of seconds — wand at the ready as they emerge into the living room. they're expecting an enemy. instead, they find themselves standing face to face with a ghost.

" recruitment, " they repeat, letting the word hang in the air between them in the hopes that, the longer they leave it there, the more asinine it will sound. " and i suppose you're going to be selling our cause over mulled wine and mashed potatoes — is that it? " they know it’s a flimsy excuse to see the polats. they also know there's little they can do to dissuade oleander once he's made up his mind.

altan. the tension eases out of teddy's shoulders, but they don't let themselves relax until the door clicks shut behind him. absent the buzz of chatter from inside, the night falls abruptly silent. they nod, dipping their head to hide a small, amused smile, and toss him the pack with practiced ease — a silent acknowledgement, and an invitation to join them.

theirs has always been an easy camaraderie.