#tednotteddy

He should have been at Hogwarts, with Seamus and the others, should have been worrying only about his NEWTs and what career he might choose in a year’s time, and instead Dean Thomas had no idea where he was. Running for his life, from people who wanted him dead for daring to carry a wand in his pocket when his mother was a Muggle and his dad... Well his dad had left him when he was just a baby and he would probably never know what his blood status was, but it hardly mattered now.

A crack of a twig and Dean knew he wasn’t alone. He froze, a rabbit in the headlights, hand twitching for his wand. How was he supposed to know if the newcomer was friend or foe? “Who goes there?” he asked, summoning every bit of Gryffindor courage.

          Her divorce had been, much like her wedding, a very public affair. Narcissa had hated the whole thing, of course ( most of all the implications that she might have been after something other than her son’s safety. She had felt entirely unable to protect him during the war, she wouldn’t allow herself to be made to feel that way now that it was all over ). Still, the fact remained that the blonde was now either a disgrace tainted by another life or a newly eligible heiress, depending on who you asked. Both titles felt entirely reductive and heart-wrenching, and she knew it would be a while before her reputation in the United Kingdom became something she could live with ( something she did not mind exposing Draco to ). The decision to move to France for now was a careful one, considered due to family ties with the country and her own personal needs, despite how rushed it might seem to on-lookers. 

         There was, however, one thing to do before she left. If she truly wanted to do what is best, it started by letting her sister know she was leaving. Andromeda deserved as much. Except Andromeda was not home, and she was left staring awkwardly at Edward Tonks. « I know we are not on good terms, » a massive understatement, « but I thought I might let Andromeda know I am leaving the country. Do you happen to know when she will be back ? I can drop by then. » She was carefully inspecting her nails, still unsure what to make of the man ( unsure what her separation meant about her beliefs ).

         Hogsmeade in the summer was a sight. It was not necessarily a pretty sight — void of the nostalgia of autumn leaves, the etherealness of snow-covered roofs of winter and the enticing smell of spring, Hogsmeade felt almost empty. The sun did not add any charm to the wizarding town, and it certainly made dressing for the occasion ostensibly harder because of the heat. Narcissa’s pale green dress certainly looked more expensive than practical, but the material was breathable enough for it to not be too much of a bother. She had come to the town in order to buy new blends of tea, squeezing in lunch with an acquaintance in as well. It was now two in the afternoon, and the blonde was on her way to the teashop.

         This, as she was walking outside of her lunch spot, is where it hit her — Or rather, a child happily and accidentally lightly bumped into her legs. The witch had instinctively looked down at what had stopped her in her tracks. The child was unmistakable — Not because every child was, but because this specific, precise child had the overly familiar air of someone Narcissa had known years ago. Or perhaps, maybe, it was that blue eyes had inadvertently already spotted the father of the kid and put two and two together subconsciously. Either way, she had frozen in her tracks.

          She knew, of course, that she should turn back around and leave, that nothing good could come off this encounter and that had she been able to meet her niece, she would have done so months ago ( but she couldn't, wouldn’t. Getting attached was a risk Narcissa could not afford to take when her whole family stood firmly against everything the Tonks now represented ). « It’s alright. » She spoke before she could stop herself, voice light and as reassuring as it could be, blue eyes still looking at the little girl to make sure she showed no sign of distress. The blonde had always had a soft spot for children and, regardless of the turmoil of contradicting emotions in her, supposed she could not very well leave a child ( any child ) on their own. « Where are your parents ? » Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this wouldn’t be Ted Tonks coming to collect the little girl. Maybe she was someone else’s, and Narcissa’s mind was playing a cruel trick on her.