To Andromeda Tonks, there was a Before and an After. In the Before, she had measured time in minutes, hours, days, months - it was a popular system, no doubt. In the After, she had caught herself counting, and the counting had unnerved her. There was no point to it, she wasn't counting down to something as much as she was counting away from it, and there was an infinity to the exercise that simply couldn't be considered healthy. She could measure her own life in however large a number was wedged in between herself and her losses, but this was no way for her grandson to live. To be quite frank, it wasn't much of a way to live for anyone.
So instead, very slowly, she began to measure time in colours.
Turquoise days were her favourites, and as Teddy grew older, she found that there were more and more of these blueish-greenish days. They were the days of growing, of teaching, and of experiencing, of pictures she would take and send to the Potters and the Weasleys.
Orange days involved property damage, accidental underage magic, playing in the garden, and answering a myriad of questions. They were busy, but Andromeda liked it that way. She suspected that orange days would be the ones netting her the most owls from Hogwarts once Teddy was old enough for school. A shrug and a grin, she was was well-versed in the art of delivering stern, written lectures. She had gotten plenty of practice, what with Nym-
Bubblegum pink was the colour of the hardest days. They were heart-searing, sticky and choking her. Those were the days when she felt how empty her bed was before she even opened her eyes. She dodged her own reflection like she dodged the child's questions - unsuccessfully, in the end. She always found herself caught off guard, swallowing back sadness, rage, and helplessness, before facing what there was to face, because what other choice did she have? But every time, words failed her when he asked her about his parents, about his mother. She had been brave, she told him, she had been smart, she had been funny. All true, all empty, and all leaving him unsatisfied.
It was her husband who brought sweetness to these bitter days, some five years after his death. She found a box in a drawer beneath his writing desk, and when she opened it, it took a moment for her to grasp just what it was she had found. Then she laughed in disbelief, so loud that a confused Teddy poked his little head into the study to see what was so funny. She beckoned him over, and showed him the box. It was full to the brim with letters.
"It's story time," she said, and smiled. "Pick one."
Story time had an almost magical effect on him, and so he obeyed. Clumsily, he pulled one of the letters out. It had been opened previously, and it had an official look to it, which was noted with a childish frown. Official looking letters weren't very fun in his eyes.
Andromeda took it from him, and read it quickly. Then, with a smile, and something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, she sat on the floor, pulled the child into her lap, and began:
"It was the first of the month, and your mother had just returned for her fifth year at Hogwarts. Mind you, your Godfather aside, very few students manage to get into trouble right on their very first day back..."