━ tonks, ted.

WHEN: 21 June 1983 WHERE: Summer Solstice Festival, Nature Pavilion  WHO: OPEN

Aoife’s pace was slow as she meandered around the festival with a quickly melting sno-cone in hand, dyed purple from the sugary syrup it was drenched in. She ate at it quickly, already regretting the purchase. It kept her from reaching out and getting as close to the creatures as she’d have liked. “I’m sorry,” she apologized by means of grabbing the nearby stranger’s attention. “Have you seen a rubbish bin anywhere nearby?” Her own attempt at spotting one had left her wanting, and she wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t already spent considerable time looking first herself.

...

“did i lose — ”  benjy patted himself down, checking frantically for a moment before feeling the letter he did have in his jacket pocket.  “no, we’re good.”  he heaved a sigh of relief and took the letter from ted’s grip.  “how’s it goin’ ted?  this is, uh … ”  he squinted, trying his hardest to read the illegible handwriting.  “you know how people joke about doctors having horrible handwriting?  this looks like that.  could be a letter of resignation or a love note.”  benjy glanced around the crowd around him, but no one else seemed to be concerning themselves with the piece of parchment.  maybe it wasn’t that important after all.  “oh!  i think this word might be monday.”

who: andromeda & @tdtnks​ when: febuary 26th, 1983 where: tonks residence

trigger warning: allusion of depersonalization/dissociation

Andromeda had always been good at distancing herself, at closing herself off, at hardening her spine into steel instead of allowing herself to crumble in the face of everything cruel and harsh and what some people might call evil. She didn’t really believe in evil or its foil, if she was being truthful; she couldn’t bring herself to. Having a childhood like hers, sharing blood with sisters like hers, having watched the world fall to pieces and be rebuilt a thousand times over in the name of the light and the dark; binary thinking such as good and evil, light and dark, Death Eaters and the Order never seemed productive, or survivable to her. 

And the only thing that Andromeda had been after, for years, was her survival. Naturally that extended to Ted and Dora because they were extension of her own heart, her own soul; truthfully, she’d sacrifice her own survival if it meant saving them. And she would save them from this war, she was certain of that. 

Of course, it would be much easier for her to do all of that if she wasn’t being yanked into the ever aforementioned war. She was yanked into the Order when Ted decided he wanted to be involved, something she couldn’t quite blame him for, but still terrified her. Then, of course, were the werewolf attacks, centering her division and research, and now… Sybill.

She hadn’t known her, really. But she knew enough about those that shared the Sight to know that she would be targeted eventually. People always thought lowly of seers, always believed that they were nothing but a hoax claiming to be divine, until they decided they needed divine intervention, or guidance, or however else people wanted to refer to the Inner Eye. 

It was never a good thing when people took an interest in seers, that much was certain, that much was made abundantly clear to her by Cygnus several times over in her lifetime — and Sybill’s death put a bounty on any seer’s head, she was sure of it. 

She should have seen it coming, really. But war’s a rather tricky thing to follow. The future was ever changing, shifting with each menial decision on either side, and Andromeda had half considered reaching out to Cygnus or Bellatrix or someone that might now how to repress the flashing images. She didn’t, obviously, but she had a much looser grip on her dreams after she left home; it was rather manageable, relatively unseen. 

She had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case for much longer and that thought alone was enough to make her body freeze up, to make her eyes gloss over with tears that she wouldn’t shed, to make her hands tremble. Cygnus knew, Druella could know, hell, Trixie could fucking know. Someone who didn’t know, though, was Ted, Ted who had put their child to bed after the broadcast and noticed the all too familiar look in her eye, one that came up far more than it should have, one that she didn’t offer much of an explanation for. 

He deserved an explanation; he deserved to know that should anyone found out, their entire family could be targeted; he deserved the chance to get the hell out of this situation if he felt so inclined. 

She didn’t jump when he came back into the room; the only indication that she was remotely startled by the sound was the slightest tensing of her left hand. She bit her lip, keeping her gaze forward as she had since the news was announced over their radio. She didn’t turn to face him, though she leaned ever so slightly to allow him to join her on her place on the floor should he be so inclined. 

“Have I ever told you about Bitsy?” She asked, knowing damn well that she hadn’t, but she wasn’t entirely sure how to tell this story without talking about her. Her eyes slid over to meet his gaze, after a moment, a second, a third. She laughed, the sound light and honey sweet but damn near devoid of humor. “I know the answer to that, but I don’t really know where else to start with this one.”

...

Ted was observant. Over-observant, even. Observant to the point of seeing things that weren’t there because his anxiety told him the crease in someone’s brow or the lack of smile on their face meant he’d done something wrong. It was something he managed constantly and had learned to mostly reign in. Not to mention, he knew Andromeda so much better than the average someone. She was his wife. The love of his life. The light in the dark. And he was rather certain the darkening expression on her face as they listened to the nightly news broadcast wasn’t just a trick of his mind.

He couldn’t ask immediately though. If he was right, if there was something on her mind, she’d hold in because Dora had been with them in that moment. With a gentle squeeze of Andromeda’s hand, he’d volunteered to put Dora to bed; there hadn’t been much room for no in his offer. Dora didn’t protest either… Or not much, at least. She complained that she wasn’t tired with a mouthful of toothpaste, but settled easily into her bed and sleepily mumbled when he asked her if she’d completed all her homework. He even asked if she wanted to read with him – a chapter of muggle’s children book one of her cousin’s had let her borrow. He was silently grateful when she said no.

After pressing a soft kiss to Dora’s forehead, pulling the covers up around her chin, and flicking off the light in her bedroom, Ted returned to the living room. Andromeda was sat on the floor, staring off at something he couldn’t determine. A smudge on the wall? Dust particles in the lamp light? Fringe on the rug? Nothing at all?

He hesitated for a single moment in the doorway before padding across the room. Using the wall to brace himself, he slid to the floor next to her. A joint cracked painlessly. He would’ve made a joke about getting old, but it stuck in the back of his throat. Now wasn’t the time. He could see it in her side profile. There was something on Andromeda’s mind, on the tip of tongue.

It was not every day that Bellatrix made the trip to Diagon. In fact, she felt as though she might even stop at Bourgin’s today. Joyful wasn’t the word. to describe her, but she was feeling hopeful today. Hopeful that they might win this war; that the right side might persevere. And just as the hope set in, just as it seeped into her bones, she was stopped by the very voice that had proven otherwise to her. The very voice that had taken away such an important part of her life; the very voice of what was wrong with the other side. 

“No,” she said, simply, raising a brow at him. “I don’t think I did.” For a second she wondered if he was talking to her because he had something to say; something about Andromeda. An apology would be nice, she knew, but he wouldn’t ever apologize. He didn’t know what he’d done. Didn’t know how he’d ripped her heart from her chest and stomped on it. “Perhaps you shouldn’t pick up what isn’t yours.”

If he had realized who he’d approached, he wouldn’t have said a word. Ted would’ve taken to steps back then high-tailed it out of there as inconspicuously as possible. There was no love lost between him and his in-laws. They thought he was a stain on the family tree, and he thought they were a rotten, poisonous, pathetic bunch. But from behind, he hadn’t recognized Bellatrix. Thus, shit.

Dirk left Gringotts with the intention of enjoying the fine weather and walking home, no need to rush now his work day was over. It gave him chance to look around and properly take in the street he had grown a bit too used to over the years. It was a shame that he had viewed magic with such scepticism when he was first introduced to the world, really. It was truly incredible and Dirk felt he had missed out on the full impact most muggleborns got when catching their first glimpse of Diagon Alley.

He gave a startle of surprise when, in taking in so much more of his surroundings than usual, his eyes fell on a poster advertising one of Bertram’s concerts. He had never been one for taking photos but Dirk found himself wishing he had a camera with him, if only because it was hung right next to someone’s handmade petition to cancel the Quidditch cup this year in light of what had happened last season. He didn’t have a camera, though, so he stepped away and made to continue his walk along the alley only to be distracted again, this time by someone waving at him. Or… Dirk thought it was at him. He didn’t recognise the man but a glance over his shoulder told him that there was nobody else around whose attention he might be trying to catch. “A… letter?” he asked in confusion, frown clearing when he saw the parchment. “Not that I was sending and I don’t think it’s for me. Hard to tell, really.” The handwriting really was awful. “I don’t recognise the writing. Is that… Lawley? Don’t recognise the name, either. Sorry. It’s a shame there’s not a post office in Diagon Alley, although, they’d probably charge you for it, even if it’s not yours.”

It was a long shot that a random bystander would happen to know anything about the letter, and even slimmer that the letter would belong to that bystander. He sighed but kept a pleasant expression. “It was a worth a shot. I hate for something important to get lost down a storm drain. Could be a bill or love letter, you never know,” he said with a quiet chuckle. Ted squinted at the name again as the stranger rattled of his suggestion. “Maybe a Fawley? I think I went to school with someone with that last night.” They were a pureblood family, from what he remembered. Being married to the runaway Black daughter made him aware of those sorts of things.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. In his opinion, he wasn’t sure any shade of pink would look good on him, but he’d say whatever to entertain Dora. “I think brighter than yours for sure.”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure he realized Ted and Andromeda had been that young, but it made sense when he thought back on it. It was funny to look back on it - when they graduated they had felt so old. Now Gideon would have laughed at his younger self. “Well, certainly not short nieces and nephews,” he joked. He always preferred to joke when things got serious. He nodded. He knew Ted was right, but it still felt easier said than done. Maybe he was word that Cedric would never fully feel like his kid - maybe he wasn’t even sure if that was what he wanted. “Yeah, makes sense. Sometimes it feels like an impossible world we’re brining them into.”

Dora hummed, squinting at Gideon before nodding in agreement. “Definitely. Like a pastel.” She smiled triumphantly, as if having unlocked a great secret. Ted tried to imagine Gideon with pastel pink hair and decide there were probably worse looks out there.

“We need a vampire authority,” Edgar teased, although he wasn’t particularly wanting to live forever. In fact, he found mortality beautiful. While he would give anything to bring Alvaro back, he could hear his husband’s voice in his head, reminding him that anything in life that was worth being excited over, eventually faded. It couldn’t last forever, because then it wouldn’t be beautiful; it wouldn’t be real. Edgar wished he’d been wrong; wished he could have lived a forever with his husband by his side. Alvaro hadn’t realized just how beautiful he was. “Mm, I think I’ve been giving these rants since I was twenty, mate,” he said, shaking his head. “As soon as I left Hogwarts, I told all the students just how lucky they were that Peeves only stuck to simple pranks.”

Of course, Peeves had never stuck to anything in his ghostly life, Edgar was convinced. Still, it was funny to think of the students unsuspecting of a prank, and then receiving one. Helping Peeves was a bit heart-breaking, though. “I s’pose I could stick around for a dinner or two,” he said, smiling ever so slightly. “And y’know I’ll never say no to hanging out with Dora. She’s a smart kid.”

A mischievous grin hit his lips. “That is for me to know, and for Alastor Moody to probably tell you one day. He had to pull me off the tables, so.”

“Andy might know one,” he suggested lightly, bringing his beer up for another sip. The glass was significantly lighter than when they’d started. It was about time to consider ordering another or going home. He didn’t have strong instincts either way. Dora and Andy would be happy to have him back, but they weren’t expecting him for a bit. “Never know with her work,” he added, setting the glass down with a clink.

Ted pressed his lips together, a judgmental look taking root in his expression – in the wrinkles of his skin and the curve of his brow. “Just don’t start giving them to Dora or she’s not gonna be so nice when you come to dinner. And I can’t guarantee she’ll stick to simple pranks like Peeves. You’ve met her cousin Sirius, haven’t you?” His lips twitched upwards.

It was by instinct alone that Ted managed to catch the letter half-flying, half-skittering across the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. Ted frowned and squinted at it, turning it over. His eyes skimmed the lettering on the back, but the handwriting was chicken-scratch. He craned his head, searching for someone or something who might’ve lost it. Ted spotted nothing; no frantic people, no circling owls, no healers in sight. He glanced at the letter again, but the word were still scribbles. Was than an F or an L?

Gideon couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he talked to Dora. He loved children so much and Dora was such a bright child with such caring parents. It made Gideon feel a strange sort of pride even if he had no role in it whatsoever. “I do see your hair!” he said excitedly. “Man, I wish I could make my hair two colours. Do you think I could pull off pink?”

His expression got a bit more serious as he turned back to Ted. Perhaps this had been weighing more heavily on his mind than he’d thought. “I’m good with kids,  but lately I’ve been feeling…” He trailed off. He didn’t know how to describe it. “Molly’s kids are her kids, you know? No matter what, I don’t feel the same responsibility. But with Cedric…” He trailed off again. “I’m not his dad, but it’s feeling a lot more like it these days and I don’t want to mess anything up you know?”

Dora considered him with pursed lips. At least they weren’t covered in ice cream. She was old enough to clean up when she got messy, but sometimes it didn’t feel like it. It didn’t feel like she was nine. Where had the years gone? After considering Gideon’s question, Dora said, “Maybe. But it’d have to be the right type of pink!”

Before Molly started having kids, Gideon had been less bothered when it came to children. He wasn’t the kind of person who would coo at babies passing by or know what to do when a child approached him. Now though, when he heard a child scream in public, he wanted to know what was wrong rather than immediately turning to walk in the other direction.

“I’ve heard ice cream is the best way to cure ear infections,” he said to Dora. He smiled sympathetically at Ted. The time Percy had an ear infection had been so bad that Molly had written Gideon begging him to come help. “What flavour did you get? I’ve heard that’s the real trick.”

He shook his head. “I’m used to it,” he said with a smile. Cedric was pretty well-behaved, but Gideon was no stranger to temper tantrums no matter the cause. An ear infection felt like quite the reason to scream. “Does it ever get any easier?”

Dora considered Gideon for a moment before a small smile split her face. Small, Ted suspected, because she was tired and in pain. Usually she’d have grinned from ear to ear and rattled Gideon’s ears off. Instead, she said with dampened excitement, “Chocolate-strawberry swirl, of course! See my hair?”

While they’d been at Florean’s earlier, Dora had changed her hair in honor of the dessert of choice and she was still sporting two different colored puffs – one a milky brown, the other a soft shade of pink. Not only did it look good on her, he’d taken it as a sign that she was feeling a little bit better than this morning. Not perfect, but better.

A groan escaped him at the thought of looking young forever. “Alright, but wouldn’t I just look like this for the rest of time? Not that that’s particularly a bad thing, but…” Edgar shrugged, spreading his hands out wide. “I would’ve much preferred twenty-five. I was quite the stunner then.” Twenty-five had, in truth, been a good year for Edgar Bones, at least in the relationship department. He missed those days; missed feeling carefree and not having to worry about losing someone else he loved to this bloody war. Edgar feared every morning when he woke up that Amelia or Alastor would be gone; lost to this ever growing battle.

While Edgar was many things, he was mostly curious. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in taking lessons from Ted, and he’d be lying if he said he was right bad at playing most instruments. Still, if Ted was as patient as he said, that wouldn’t be too much of a problem. “I might,” he said, grinning. “I always like learning something new, and maybe I could get a friends & family discount?”

Edgar added a wink at the end to show he was only kidding. He’d pay his friend full price; Ted deserved that much. “None of the above. I was very drunk, at a bar, and an Abba song came out and I tried to make Alastor dance. Now, he’d tell you that story as if it were a war story, I’m sure.”

“I think so,” he said with a shrug. “Not an expert though.” Vampires had strictly existed in the pages of pulpy, children’s horror novels up until his first DADA class. He’d never considered them real before then, and then that class only told him that they were blood-sucking monsters you were unlikely to ever meet. He’d never had a reason to remember what he’d learned about them after his DADA tests were done and graded. “Getting a head start on those ‘back in my day’ rants? I might need to revise how old I think you are,” he teased, raising his beer for a sip.

Ted managed to keep the surprise off his face. Although Edgar was grinning, he sounded seriously interested in taking lessons. Well, well. “Discount or not, you’re gonna have to be okay with the possibility of Andy roping you into dinner because I can’t guarantee she won’t.” Not that that was a bad thing, but he was also slightly biased. Ted would never complain about dinner with his wife.

Andromeda loved her job, adored the work and throwing herself into research. She did not like, however, when certain crisis arose on her Sunday and would spend much of the following Monday getting to the bottom of exactly why the interns were permitted into the Time Room. But thankfully there were no serious injuries or major messes to clean up and she was able to leave the ministry at the time she’d promised her husband and child she would.

She hurried out of the department, waving away polite attempts at conversations from co-workers she liked. No, it was her birthday, and the only people she wanted to be with were waiting for her at home. Twenty-nine still felt somewhat surreal, not that she thought she was old or anything. It was surreal that she could be this content with her life, spent over ten years with the man she loved, and have a beautiful child to come home to. Maybe this would be the year where she would finally kick the nagging fear that it could all be taken away.

She’d reached the house sooner than she realized, and unlocked the door with a smile to find Dora launching herself into Andromeda’s arms. Laughing, the witch stumbled only a bit in returning her child’s eager hug. Ted soon followed into the entry and every single weight and stress from earlier in the day vanished.

“Hello! Thank you, my love,” she reached out a hand to pull him close, keeping one arm wrapped around Dora, who was still laughing at the way she’d nearly knocked over her mother. “There, now I am perfectly happy, my two favorite humans in the entire world, what more could anyone want?”

“Mum!” Dora had loosened her hold around Andromeda’s neck and was now tugging her parents further into the house. “Look!! We got you a surprise! And look, look!! I wanted the purple balloons, but we got blue ‘cause its your favorite. Do you like it?!”

“Its wonderful, darling, did you do all this by yourself?” Andromeda winked at Ted and slipped her hand into his as they followed their eager child into the house.

...

Andromeda was a vision. She always was. Even in her work robes, with a few flyaway hairs, she was as gorgeous to him as she’d been when they first started dating. It didn’t feel like a decade. It didn’t feel like she was twenty-nine; that he’d been twenty-nine in a handful of months; that Dora would be off to Hogwarts in a few short years. Merlin, was time even real?

Ted let Andromeda drag him. He wrapped one arm around her, reaching up to a card a hand through her silky hair. A wide grin threatened to crack in his face. “Cake, perhaps?” he suggested, before pressing a loud kiss to her forehead. Dora was too used to how love-dovey her parents were to be grossed about the display of affection. That didn’t mean their child wasn’t going to steal the show, however. He was last in their little group as Dora dragged them in the direction of the kitchen, though he wasn’t far behind.

“Almost all by herself. I was just there to carry the shopping bags, right Dora?” And provide the galleons, but it was no pain to part with them when Dora was having fun and when they were for his wife – the love and light of his life.

Dora nodded vigorously. “And I picked the cake!” she said. “It’s really good, I promise! The bakery had a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Jellybean cake and I didn’t pick that.”

For a brief second, Ted’s eyes widened. When they returned to their normal size, he rolled them. “You’re gonna have to face the music someday,” he said, raising his glass to his lips. He liked wine better, but a cold beer was good after his day. He set his glass down on the table with a clunk. “Or not, I suppose, and get yourself bit by a vampire. Apparently there’s one on the Wizengamot that looks twenty-five but that’s older than Dumbledore. Would’ve have to worry about hitting fifty that way.”

Ted cocked a brow at Edgar. “Taught a lot of folks. Most of them young, but I don’t discriminate. You asking for lessons?” A part of him couldn’t imagine Edgar at the piano. He was too gruff for it. Maybe he could imagine it more than he could Alastor Moody trying his hand, but that wasn’t saying much. But if Edgar was being serious, than he could either be in for a pleasant surprise or a good laugh. Andy would love to have him over too.

Who: @tdtnks​

Where: Diagon Alley

Especially these days, it was not unfamiliar for Gideon to hear the screams or cries of young children. He always joked with Molly that she had given him quite the range to practise with and now with Cedric added to the mix, that felt even more true. So when he heard a child yelling as he was out of his own, he immediately turned to see who it was.

He didn’t expect to recognise them though. Even if Gideon was around children a lot, he still didn’t feel like the best person to help in the midst of a child’s outburst. However, he loved the Tonks and quite selfishly, he found himself heading in their direction anyway. “Long day?” he asked. He wasn’t quite sure if he was talking to Ted or Dora.

...

Dora should’ve been in school that day. Though she was still too young for Hogwarts, that didn’t mean wixen children were uneducated until they were eleven. But she wasn’t; she’d woke up complaining of ear pain and refused her breakfast. Ted and Andy decided it would be easier for him to get the day off and take her to the healer’s so they did just that. Afterwards, he asked Dora if she wanted to go home or if she wanted to get something to eat. She’d asked for ice cream, and while not a nutritious breakfast, he couldn’t say no.

In that moment, with Dora yelling at him, a smidge of dried ice cream above her upper lip, he regretted it a little. He placed a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to her level. Before he could part his lips, a shadow fell over them. When Ted looked up, he was greeted with Gideon’s familiar mug. Thank Merlin. Dora quieted and sniffled, looking up at him too. “A bit, yeah. Dora’s not feeling great. Are you?” he directed the question at her.

Dora shook her, adding, “The healer says I have an ear infection.”

Saoirse knew that most people would give them the same answer. It’s not that bad, or it helps me cool off, or something else of the sort. They understood, really, they did, but at the same time, running in little to no clothing when it was cold could result in the body getting hypothermia. Layers were best, when it was this temperature. “If you say so,” they offered a small smirk and shrug as a response. “A lot of people have the same mindset, but me I always prefer a couple layers. And a change of clothes for after. Nothin’ worse than sittin in wet clothes when it’s freezin’.”

...

A playful groan fell from his lips at Ted’s mention of his getting to be Edgar’s age. Of course, Edgar knew how old he was, and he was proud of his age. Still, it was too easy to joke about and Edgar’s hand flew to his heart. “My age?” he asked. “Simply how old do you think I am, Tonks? I’ll have you know that forty-two is spritely. I’m not even halfway to one hundred yet, mate, and my grandfather has been living a right long time.” On his mum’s side, anyways. They still wrote him, although he was back in Cuba. 

The thought of a normal day, one that didn’t revolve around keeping Mia’s poker ring safe, and also predicting the way numbers might affect Gringotts that day, was nice. Edgar was incredibly interested as Ted talked, and he leaned on the palm of his hand, nodding along ever so slightly. “What instrument do you play again?” he asked, genuinely curious. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever really heard Edgar play. “I can only imagine. I think I’d shit a brick if I had to do just about anything in front of an audience.”

Edgar was confident, but the thought of getting up and singing in front of someone? Blimey, he’d never even think about it… unless there was a karaoke bar, in which case, he would be right there. Okay, so maybe he couldn’t entirely relate, but he could understand what it felt like to be a teenager and have to get up in front of some folks to do what you love. It was nerve wracking to have them judge you. 

...

Ted hummed, narrowing his eyes as if he was ascertaining for himself whether Edgar looked forty-two. “Sounds about right. I promise I didn’t think you were a day over forty-five,” Ted added, a grin tugging at one side of his mouth. He took a pull of his drink to contain just a bit of his growing mirth. Evidently, he had wanted some company after work, subconsciously rather than consciously. “Still makes you more than a decade older than me, mate.”

“Piano,” Ted answered. “I’m alright at a few others, but I know where my talents lie.” He’d been enrolled in lessons since he was a young boy. All of his sibling had been enrolled, actually, but he was the only one who stuck with it. The rest of them had dropped it by fifteen. Some had dropped it before he was born, given he was the youngest of the Tonks’ children.

“When’s mum going to get home?” Dora whinged, looking up at him with big, brown eyes. Today her hair was short, curly, and a bright blue. Ted’s lips twitched with amusement. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked that in the past hour – nor the second, the third, or the fourth. “What time does mum usually get home?” he asked, quickly receiving his child’s answer. “And what time does the clock say it is?” Dora squinted at the analog clock on the wall, carefully reading at the answer and looking to him for confirmation. This time, he smiled. “Right. So, she should be home any minute now.” Hopefully. Andromeda’s work could be demanding. After all, that’s how she’d ended up called in on a Sunday that was her birthday. But Ted knew she wouldn’t let the Ministry keep her late just because it demanded it. He was betting on him being home by dinner.

Dora asked if she wait by the door to greet her mother, so he sent her on her way with a pat on the head. A quiet sight slipped past his lips. It was tired more than anything else. He loved his child more than the world and he’d never change a thing about her, but her energy and excitement were inexplicable. She definitely hadn’t gotten them from him. Unlike older brothers, who delighted in using spare moments to muck around in the yard or set up pranks throughout the house, Ted had spent his glued to his piano. Maybe it came from Andy though. Maybe that’s what Andy would’ve been like had she not grown up in the family she did. When her eyes twinkled with mischief, it was exactly like looking into Dora’s, and he knew when he showed her the cake Dora picked out today, she’d have a similar reaction to her child’s.

Speaking of… The clicks of the locks and Dora’s excited shout snapped him from his thoughts. Andromeda was home. Stepping away from the counter, Ted walked past decorations Dora had insisted on putting up earlier that day. He’d used the unfortunate opportunity of her extra shift to prepare, taking Dora out to buy supplies for dinner, a cake, and decorations. They’d even gotten her an extra present, something Dora saw in a shop window as they were strolling down Diagon Alley.