When Andromeda threw up for the first time, it was on his shoes. One moment she was fine, laughing at some smartarsed joke he'd made, and the next she was losing her breakfast all over his feet.
Ted's stomach turned for a moment, but he only allowed a second for that to control him before he was gingerly slipping off his shoes, stepping around the area in which she was getting sick, and collecting her hair that had fallen around her face, one arm gently wrapping around her in support. She was sick for at least another five minutes, her body shuddering violently as it emptied the contents of her stomach. She'd begun to cry, and Ted's heart clenched at the sound. He began to reassure her that she was all right, that it was all all right, and that as soon as she was finished he'd take her to bed.
True to his word, he lifted her into his arms once she finally righted herself.
"Ted, oh Teddy. I'm so sorry. How awful of me." Andromeda buried her face in his chest, causing her words to come out slightly muffled.
"Nonsense," he reassured her, bending to kiss her hair, "you've nothing to apologize for."
"Your shoes," she said weakly.
"They're shoes. I'm more worried about you." He said honestly. He began to think. Surely it couldn't be food poisoning, as he felt fine for the most part. Ted never did have an iron stomach when it came to others puking in front of him; It was a tiny miracle in itself that he didn't lose his breakfast as she did hers.
Ted's mind whirled, trying to puzzle out what had brought on this sudden sickness. Just as he had crossed off food poisoning, a light came on in his head: Arthur had mentioned his eldest had picked up a stomach bug late last week, and Andromeda did spend the weekend with his wife. They'd went to town together, as they often did, to window shop. He supposed. Something along those lines. Andromeda rarely came back with purchases, seeming to enjoy the time spent with Molly more than the actual shopping.
Arthur had complained that while he absolutely adored Molly while she was pregnant, and was simply thrilled to be expecting their second child, she simply couldn't stop buying new yarns to make another pair of booties. Or socks. Or hats. He'd joked on more than one occasion that by the time this baby came, they'd have enough articles of clothing to suit half a dozen children instead of just one – and that wasn't even counting all the baby clothes she'd held onto of Bill's!
When Arthur mentioned it the other day, he shrugged it off as one of those twenty-four hour things, so Ted was trying to hope for the best. He immediately decided to check at the chemist for something to settle her stomach while the virus ran its course. Potions were more Andromeda's thing, and even she had to admit sometimes Muggle medication was more effective than the magical equivalent.
Andromeda rarely fell ill, but when she did it often stuck for longer than normal. He dearly hoped this was not the case; he wasn't sure how long he could keep his stomach under control while being there for her.
Ted loved his wife more than anything in the world, but she was a horrid patient and was absolutely cantankerous whilst sick. He sighed as he settled her in their bed, pulling a bin over to her in case she got sick again.
It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.
A day passed, and she seemed slightly better, managing to keep crackers down without a problem. She wasn't running a fever and she didn't have the chills at all, but he could tell she still wasn't 100%. He managed to slip out while she slept, popping over to the chemist for her, hoping that the medications he picked up would be enough and that they wouldn't actually need a trip to a Healer. Not that he'd have much luck of convincing her to go to one.
He returned to find her losing her crackers in the water closet attached to their bedroom. He was simply grateful she'd made it there before throwing up, as he noticed his house shoes were dangerously close to the bin he'd placed at her bedside the night before. He made a mental note to put up his shoes until she was back to rights again.
"Darling, I've something that should help, but it says you should eat something first." Ted called, hanging his coat up in the hall. She responded by retching even more violently.
Ted grimaced. Later then.
By the third day, he'd decided that she was just going to have to suck it up, that she needed medical attention.
As it happened, she didn't agree. Huge surprise there, he thought to himself.
"Black's don't get sick, Theodore." Andromeda spat waspishly when he'd made the suggestion.
"Pity you aren't a Black anymore, Drom. Us Tonkses are mere mortals that do get sick and require medical care every now and then!" He shot back, entirely numb to her ill disposition by this point, but not so numb that he'd take her ill tempered words in silence. He'd been puked on twice more and he wasn't sure his stomach could take much more of it; Ted was seriously tempted to stun her, throw her stubborn arse over his shoulder, and Floo them both straight to St. Mungo's.
That'd go over brilliantly when she woke up. He grimaced, deciding to wait just a tad longer before resorting to such drastic –and dangerous– methods.
Ted showered around eleven, about thirty minutes after he'd made sure Andromeda was sleeping soundly once more. He trimmed the dirty blonde scruff on his face, taking the time necessary to trim the hair up evenly. During the warmer months Ted tended to stay clean shaven, but once the air turned frosty he was less inclined to shave his face bare. Andromeda wasn't fussy, as long as he never allowed it to turn straggly, which is exactly the state it had been in fifteen minutes prior.
Andromeda was absent from their bed once he'd finished his grooming, and Ted desperately hoped he wasn't going to find her retching in the hallway. He quickly dressed and went in search of her.
He noticed a fresh pot of tea on the stove as he moved into the kitchen and he smiled. If she was well enough to make tea, then maybe she actually was getting better. He busied himself with filling his favorite mug up, and quickly cast a warming charm on it when he discovered it'd gone cold already.
No matter to him, he wasn't too fussy. The frigid outside air was leaching in through the old, seasoned wood of their walls, and Ted was grateful to have tea to warm him. Tea and a thick quilt, that's all he needed. And a wife that wasn't sick, he silently amended.
His eyes fell to the dying fire as he padded into their living room; it was no wonder he couldn't warm prided himself on the many Muggle habits and chores he kept for himself, refusing to ever rely on magic for absolutely everything. However, after the past few days he had, he felt no guilt whatsoever in stoking the fire with a flick of his wand. He sighed in satisfaction as the warmth began to spread through the air almost instantly.
Ted was just about to take a long drink of his tea when he heard Andromeda slam the lid to the toilet, the flush of the plumbing, and her mutter of a charm that cleaned her mouth. She stomped into their living room and opened her mouth to say something back to him, but her words were drowned out by the shattering of Ted's mug of tea.
His mouth fell open and he was momentarily struck silent, unable to form actual words.
"You- you're a- Andromeda, your hair!"
She looked at him like he was a Blast-Ended Skrewt, her eyes rolling in disgust. "My apologies for the rat's nest, husband; I haven't exactly had a moment to do much of anything with it. As I've been puking my guts out. Remember?"
If Ted weren't so shocked, he would have applauded her on her level of sarcasm at such a time. She certainly hadn't lost her attitude when she married him – not that he would have ever wished her too. As it were, he dismissed her snappy retort and shook his head wildly. "Not that, you witch, it's red!"
Andromeda scoffed and looked at him like he'd lost all sense. She began to pull if from the messy knot she'd tied it up in the early hours of the morning. It took some tugging, but eventually it pulled loose, falling past her shoulders in a massive wavy mess. "It certainly is not," Drom began in a tone that announced she was right and he was wrong, but then as she started to say 'see' the words died on her lips.
He most certainly did see, but more importantly, so did his wife.
"Bloody hell, I'm more ginger than all the Weasleys combined!" With the same sense of urgency she seemed to have when she felt the bile rising in her throat, she ran to the closest mirror, Ted close on her heels.
"Why am I ginger, Ted? I don't want to be ginger, Teddy!" She practically screeched. And just like that, her natural color returned to her hair. He watched in fascination as her rich caramel and coffee strands were instantly leached of the vibrant red, vanishing without a trace.
Her eyes widened in panic and quickly filled with tears. Ted's heart lurched and he gathered her in his arms, soothing her the best way he knew how. "It's okay, love, it's perfectly okay. I'm sure it's just some strange Wizarding flu. Yeah?"
Unfortunately, Ted's words sounded weak even to him. He heaved a sigh and hugged her close. "Let's go see my mum, shall we? She'll get this sorted, even if it is some magical malady. No hospital, no healers. Just Mum. How's that sound?"
Ted didn't admit that he had an ulterior motive for taking her to his mother, and luckily for him, Andromeda was too exhausted and upset to spot it. His mother could be the bad copper, so to speak. She'd insist on taking Andromeda round to hospital if she thought her condition merited it. After a few decades working as a nurse, she was quite used to dealing with unwilling patients, which his wife certainly was. And as an added plus, she knew exactly how to play Andromeda, her daughter-in-law putty in her hands. Ted's Mum could do most anyone that way, which was entertaining to see as long as you weren't the person she was bending to her will.