š§šššš¬ ššØš£šš” of @nobodyssoldier. cast by STELLA ( she/her, 26, gmt. ). this portrayal is exclusive. if you are not an affiliated blog, please do not follow or interact. all headcanons and writing are my own unless specifically stated otherwise āĀ
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She snorted. ā Canāt give you all the good genes now can we? It wouldnāt be fair. ā 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 couldnāt out-stubborn.
ā I have no doubt about that. ā War brought out the best in you and the worst in you. ā 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. ā Her eyes went towards her wedding band. It gleamed a fiery orange like her hair. Remusā 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 didnāt have Remus, her mom, Teddy, she wouldāve never made it through to the end.Ā
The stones shifted to a bright teal, and she realized she changed her hair without conscious thought. She looked back up at Teddy. ā Itās not only good, Teddy, itās necessary. ā She put her hands around the warm mug. ā I know youāre scared. But nothing you are or arenāt is gonna turn me away. Iāve loved you since before you were born. The moment I knew I wanted to be a mother, I loved you. Iām not giving up on us just because itās hard. ā
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 ā " 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.
" you don't know that, " they say quietly. " and even if you did, even if you were sure, i just ā " they huff, shaking their head and scrubbing their free hand across their face. " i mean, come on. you're my mother, sure. technically. but i'm older than you ever got a chance to be, and i'm a stranger. "
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 didnāt know if she wouldāve done a better job. She wasnāt there to do it.
I wouldāve taken you fishing, she thought. I wouldāve carried your worries for you.
Itās fine, Teddy said. Tonks smiled despite herself. Her smile widened at the indelicate hope in Teddyās last words. ā You sound like your father. He could be dying from an infection and still say heās just fine. ā 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.Ā
ā No, we donāt have to, ā she said. ā 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. ā 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. ā Arenāt you curious about that? You mustāve wanted to ask me a million questions growing up. I wish I was there to answer them then, but Iām here now. And Iām not going anywhere any time soon. ā
" 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 ā 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 ā and i'm not sure what it is i'm even hiding.
" i don't know. i imagine you'll have all sorts of complicated thoughts and feelings about the person i've turned out to be ā and honestly? i'm not convinced it's good for either of us to be reckoning with that on top of everything else that's going on. "
@t-onks said " take your time with this. it must be very hard on you. "
" it's fine. " teddy is not, by nature, an angry person. they seldom raise their voice. they don't slam doors or point fingers. they're in control, always. but there's something about the events of the past month or so, be it the mass resurrection or the blood on daisy's hands, that has them teetering on the edge of some dark, cavernous feeling. they want an outlet. they need somewhere to lay their burden down.
and as they stand face to face with the very last person they want to see, they're tempted now more than ever to take it out on the nebulous 'them' ā the standard they couldn't match, no matter how desperately they tried. the footsteps too washed away for them to follow. the parents that weren't there.
but as per usual, their better judgment prevails. they stare back at their mother cooly. their mother.
" it's strange, that's all. " they speak carefully, watching her face and finding it somewhat like staring into the eyes of those old photos. two-dimensional. disconnected. if she has tells, they don't yet know them ā a thought that makes the chasm between them feel deeper and wider than ever. they don't want to cause her pain, but they don't want to humour her either. blood may tie them, but they're still just two people. two imperfect strangers.
" i imagine it's probably strange for you, too, " they say. then, with no small measure of hope: " we don't have to do this, you know. "
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it would've been presumptuousĀ of him to askĀ ā 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 ?Ā
it took him a long second but he met them with a nod. " it's a lot to ā process, " jan simplified. it was better than unraveling the thread of information he'd acquired in the last forty - eight hours.Ā 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. "Ā are you not much of a party go - er ?" he inquired, soft & sympathetic.Ā
" i can't say i blame you. holidays can be a bit of a sore for some. this oneĀ ā just seems like it's in a dream. as if, it's not really happening. "Ā
" 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 ā imbued with a sudden sense of having lost control of their own life.
they're grateful for the change of pace.
" what gave it away? " they fix him with a wry smile. " it's ... well. it used to be a reminder, i suppose. spending time with everyone. watching them with their families. " feeling their ties to the people inside grow tenuous without their grandmother or harun to cling to. " i've got more living relatives now than i've ever had. " and yet, they're no happier.
Remus blinked back in surprise at the snark in the otherās voice, raising an eyebrow in the face of their disbelief.Ā
āThank you,ā and despite the amused smile tugging at his lips at being so blatantly called out, his words were genuine. But gratitude or not, Remus refused to lower his own wand, keeping it pointedly trained on the other. Because regardless of the help heād been provided, he couldnāt trust the other ā not when he couldnāt make heads or tails of the situation he was in.
Because Remus shouldnāt be here and he knew that without needing the otherās commentary. In fact, he was almost positive that he hadnāt even been in London before⦠well, before he found himself in the halls of the Ministry.Ā
The problem was he couldnāt figure out how that had happened and the otherās explanation was absolutely absurd. Yet everything around him was screaming at him that this wasnāt the London that he knew ā from the clothing to the skyline and hell, even the sounds were off. But thirty years⦠and just repeating the words in his own head had a feeling of cold dread spreading throughout his body.
āSo,ā he began, tilting his head as he blatantly appraised the other, once again caught out by the familiarity in that unfamiliar face. āSeeing as weāre on the same side as you say, how about you tell me what it is you think you know about me? Because this is the second time now youāve mentioned my death.āĀ
And as maddening as this entire situation was, Remus wasnāt so blind as to not notice how shaken the other seemed to be at the sight of him. And dead or alive or revived, Remus couldnāt help but wonder why it mattered to the other. They were no one to Remus.
āOr better yet,ā he began, a conversational lilt to his voice, āhow about you tell me how it is that you know me seeing as itās been thirty years?ā
" 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 ā and a war-hero, no less. " you died in battle in nineteen-ninety-eight. it's twenty-thirty. "
it feels ridiculous ā 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 ā 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.
" if you have questions then by all means ask, but i think perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere private. " somewhere safe.
AGE & D.O.B : thirty-one, april twenty-first.
ZODIAC : taurus.
GENDER : transmasculine non-binary.
PRONOUNS : they/them.
ORIENTATION : lesbian.
you were raised on the fairytale of a perfect family ā of brave and valiant parents who paid with their lives for the promise of a world without darkness. your father, steady as a river. your mother, a fork of lightning in a pitch-black sky. your grandmother wove a tapestry of memories for you to learn them by. she spoke of love and laughter and when her eyes watered, you reached up to wipe the tears away with small hands.
at first their presence was a comfort blanket. then, slowly, it became a tool by which to smother you ā to stay your spirit and starve your fire.
it's hard to connect in a world that feels off-kilter. you'd sooner share a silence than a secret, and thought you cared deeply, you could never quite bridge the gap between your heart and your mind. you were always a beat too late ā too deliberate with your words, and too busy peering over the edge while others leaped into love without abandon. by the time you got there, by the time you'd sat long enough in contemplation with your feelings, there was no-one left to catch you.
but you made your peace with it. you were careful with your heart, and you came to realise that loving quietly didn't mean loving less.
you're still so young, but your bones feel weary. you've always been the voice of reason ā the steady hand, and the guiding star. you stand in the eye of the storm with an eery calm and a single-minded focus. you won't do it because you want to, you'll do it because it's right. you'll do it because even if you can't, you have to.
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 ā 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 ā 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 ā and their parents ā a thousand times over in a thousand different ways.
they used to travel that path together. this andromeda hasn't walked there yet.
" i'm thirty-one, " they say, perching on their usual seat. " my father is remus lupin. was remus lupin. "
the room is thick with a cocktail of feelings. elation, that comes with the resurrectedā 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 happeningĀ ā 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.Ā
his son was gone. harun was a casualtyĀ in a war that he was meant to finish when he was just a boy. just a baby.Ā
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 familiarityĀ along their features. still, he nodded in pleasantries.Ā
" sorry. bit crowded in there. didn't realize that this spot to sneak away was occupied, " he insisted, a tight lipped smile offered while his hands found home in his front pockets. " i take it that you're trying to hide yourself ?"Ā
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 Ā ā what with so many extra bodies and emotions running high.
" mm, something like that. still not sure i should have taken them up on the invite, honestly Ā ā though i suppose there's only one way to find out. "
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āRemus Lupin is dead.ā
It was as if another blasting spell had gone off at his feet, the declaration echoing in his ears as he tried to make sense of what this stranger was saying.
Dead.Ā
And without meaning to, his eyes flickered to his own bruised hand - the cuts stinging in the bitterly cold night air as he tightened his grip on his wand. That couldnāt be right - heād been the last man standing in the end, burying piece after piece of his own heart alongside each one of his friends.
(But heād seen them hadnāt he? In that room full of madness where he caught flashes of fiery red alongside untidy black and where everything he thought he knew turned out to be a lie.)
āIt seems youāve been misinformed,ā he said, spitting out the warm blood from his earlier injury ā almost as if in defiance of the accusation hurled his way. Whatever was happening tonight, Remus couldnāt allow himself to be pulled into whatever game the stranger was playing.
āNot that a few havenāt given it a try,ā he acknowledged, a ghost of a smile curling his lips as he matched the stranger step for step as they began to circle one another.
āBut what does it matter who I am?,ā he asked, ignoring the otherās demand, āyou didnāt seem to care about names before killing that other man.ā
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, thenĀ whatever remains,Ā however improbable, must be the truth.
but surely this is impossible. the dead can't just come back ā 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 ā for them?
" you ought to take better care of yourself, " they say softly. " he would have killed you, so i killed him first. i'd say that puts us on the same side ā don't you think? " they raise one eyebrow and speak in their best imitation of a calm, measured tone. " you should get off the street. it's not safe, and if you really are remus lupin, i imagine you're rusty ā seeing as you've been dead for thirty years. "
ā if you're wanting a pep talk, i could call for jan or lila. ā a small smirk pulls at his lips, as he raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder back into the house. he wouldn't actually do it - well, maybe he would. he doesn't want teddy to go, leaving him to face it on his own again.
could he really be at the cause of this - a reason as to why the resurrected are forced to gather this christmas - and leave? possibly.
altan lights the cigarette with a quick burst of magic, looking out into the night as he takes his first inhale. his own pack lays somewhere upstairs - under a bed that's not his, in a room that's been unclaimed for decades. until now. ā they've already been asking after you. ā
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 ā 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 ā 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.
ā thatāsĀ nice, āĀ theĀ statementĀ soundsĀ moreĀ likeĀ aĀ questionĀ withĀ herĀ delivery.Ā ā butĀ still , youĀ didnātĀ answerĀ myĀ question,Ā āĀ whoĀ areĀ you? ā 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 ā 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 ā 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.
teddy sighs through their nose and runs a hand through their hair, gesturing for her to take a seat. " you might as well get comfortable. i'll make us some tea, " they say, flashing her a tight smile. " i'm teddy. nymphadora was my mother. " then, stupidly, as if in fear that she won't connect the dots herself: " i'm your grandchild. "
25 DECEMBER 2030 : šš ššššššššš ššššš
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 āĀ and victoire didn't show, either. she had promisedĀ minnie that she would.Ā
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 ). Ā 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.Ā
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 ā grabbing the doorknob with one outstretched hand, champagne glass long forgotten. Ā
ā oh, it's you- ! ā 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. ā do you want to come in? ā she made a motion for them to come in, even though she was clearly about to leave.Ā
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.
" i'm working up to it, " they say, taking a drag and watching her with no small amount of caution. this time last year, they might have hugged. but everything is different now. everything feels slightly off-kilter. " are you leaving already? "
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 ā 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.
" ... actually, it's my house, " they say dazedly. " you left it to me in your will. "
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" of course it isn't smart. " oleander sighs. more of a groan, before dropping his face between his hands. he'd come to teddy for advice, thinking that being told what he already knew would convince him to deny the invitation. instead, he only wants to go more, and teddy's questions have him wanting to convince them. " jan will be there. lila will be there. " or so he assumes ā there's a tightness in his chest that always accompanies one of his worst ideas.
" but it could also be an opportunity for recruitment. " this is, quite possibly, the most open, bold-faced lie he could have told teddy. both of them know oleander is the last person who should be involved with incentivizing new members ; too volatile, too rough.
" and it can't be that dangerous. how problematic could christmas be? "
" 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 ā is that it? " they know itās 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.
" i'm not worried about danger, " they say patiently, running their tongue across their teeth as they consider how best to put it to make him see sense. " but you could start a fight in an empty house. if this goes south, and it will go south, it'll be a spectacle. itās too raw. " too many quick tempers and vibrant personalities. too much hurt.
there's a desperation to leave the party that claws at his chest. it's not enough to nurse a drink in the corner, there's just enough people that he can remain on the edges but never quite out of conversation. it brings him to the front door, seeking something out in the dark and quiet night. he takes a sharp inhale, at the cold hitting his skin and surprise at teddy standing in front of him. there is a relief still, in seeing them. despite it all.
ā i needed a break, it's... ā altan pauses his explanation, jaw clenching as he takes a moment, a rush of breath leaving him. there's no real reason to find the words he wants to say - not, at least , to teddy. they know how it gets, how he feels, more than almost anyone else in that decaying house.
doesn't make it any easier to face them now, however, when the reminder of the choices the knights made are just on the other side of the door. drinking their champagne, hiding in back rooms. dark eyes fall to the cigarette in their hands. ā do you have one i can bum? ā
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 ā a silent acknowledgement, and an invitation to join them.
theirs has always been an easy camaraderie.
" that good, hm? you're not filling me with confidence. " they take another drag and flick the ashes to the ground, tapping their fingers rhythmically against their thigh ā just something to do with their hands. " i'm not sold on going in. might smoke this and call it a night. "