Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling
Prologue
Andromeda Tonks only ever realized the extent of her loneliness on the nights Teddy spent with his godfather. If there was one Black family trait that had stayed with her through everything, it was the ability to turn off her emotions, to choose when to feel. Around Teddy, Andromeda was always strong. No question about it. Yet every once in a while, she would look at her grandson and see the warm brown twinkling eyes that Ted and Dora had both possessed as well, and she unwillingly felt. That feeling was nothing however, compared to what was creeping over her tonight. Alone in the house that had once been filled with love and laughter, sorrow flooded over her.
Andromeda had hardly cried when she'd heard about the deaths of her loved ones. She could not even remember the last time she'd allowed herself to cry, but she felt like crying tonight as she sat alone in her bedroom, staring at the king sized bed that was far too big for one person.
No, she thought, I won't let myself be this pathetic.
Standing up, she walked over to her cabinet in the corner of the room. Cleaning would help. Yes, cleaning would help. And she hadn't been through this cabinet in years, so there would be plenty to do.
Methodically she empied out the contents on the floor. There were mostly books, but also a few extra blankets and linens, old photo albums, a radio, and a few other meaningless trinkets.
Then she stopped. Her gaze fell on a relatively small wooden box that sat in the corner of a shelf of books. The sight of it caused Andromeda's heart to skip a beat. She'd forgotten that she'd kept this.
Without even thinking about her actions, she slid the box out and placed it carefully on the bed. For a moment she just stared at it, taking in the silver detailing on the top, the Black family crest.
Andromeda lifted the lid off of the box and removed the items one by one from the green velvet lining of the box. She pulled out a miniature porcelain doll with perfect chocolate brown curls identical to her own, a thin silver bracelet in the shape of a snake with an emerald for an eye, several neatly folded old pieces of parchment, a ring with the Lestrange family crest on it that she'd never had the courage to return, and a muggle soda bottle cap hanging from a silver chain.
Alone, these objects were rather random. Together, they told a story, one that had started many, many years before.