"Annie! Andromeda! Annie, darling, is that you?"

The familiar sound of her own name cut through the thick, blank fog of Andromeda's mind, raised over the background chattering, hooting and clinking sounds of Diagon Alley. For a few seconds Andromeda blinked as she registered the sound of the voice and tried to work out who it belonged to. Her mind felt heavy and weary and it took her a moment to remember that this was the voice of her old school friend, Cynthia, who she had not seen in years and who insisted on calling her Annie. Up until now, Andromeda had not even known whether or not Cynthia had survived the wizarding war that had ended in a huge battle at Hogwarts, eight weeks ago.

Forcing her face into what she hoped was a delighted, welcoming expression, Andromeda turned away from the quills she had been poring over (though in fact her thoughts had been far from quill prices), keeping one hand on Teddy's pram, to greet her friend. Cynthia looked the same as always as she rushed towards her: a warm brown face crinkled in a wide, beaming smile; tight, fashionable robes and wild, flying blonde hair, though it had been cut shorter since they had last met and had more streaks of grey in it than Andromeda remembered. The sight of the grey-streaked hair made her heart twist painfully. It reminded her of a person she had not seen in eight weeks. Since the night of the Battle of Hogwarts.

She had no more time to contemplate this before Cynthia was upon her and wrapping her in a tight, warm hug. Andromeda returned the hug, still feeling blank and numb. Her thoughts moved sluggishly. She hardly felt in a fit state to greet her old friend and behave as though she was fine, though she managed to return Cynthia's smile of greeting as they broke apart.

"Annie, darling! How long has it been?" cried Cynthia warmly. "Long time, no see! Well, thank God we've all manage to survive that wretched war!"

Andromeda's throat felt very tight. "G-Great to see you, Cynthia, dear," she forced out.

"Oh Annie, I'm so pleased to see you! I'm so sorry I haven't been in touch, it's been so difficult to send owls safely, what with all the trouble over the past few years …"

Andromeda nodded jerkily. "Not your fault," she said, aware that her voice sounded hoarse.

"So, how have you been keeping?" asked Cynthia, still beaming.

"Oh, not too badly," Andromeda replied, surprising herself with her own lie. "Things have just been … difficult."

"Oh, I understand what you mean," agreed Cynthia. "Things haven't been easy since that summer a few years back when that Harry Potter – what a hero he is now, bless him – came out with that story that he saw You-Know-Who returned to power. And to think that we didn't believe him! Well, I must admit, even I thought it was a load of rubbish when I first heard it. But what a bunch of idiots we all were, Annie! If only we had believed him back then, and done something about it before You-Know-Who started to regain his old power again …" Cynthia shrugged, her eyes bright. "Oh well. I suppose it's all over now … and that's the main thing, isn't it?"

Andromeda simply nodded again. "So, er … how are you, Cynthia?" she asked shakily, keen to change the subject.

"Oh, not too bad, Annie, not too bad," replied Cynthia, passing one hand through her straight, shoulder-length blonde hair. "I haven't been exactly well; I suppose no-one has been, what with all that's been going on, but my family and I all got through it OK, so …" She shrugged and grinned.

A giant, painful fist clenched Andromeda's heart and squeezed it tight, and she bit her lip, hard.

Suddenly Cynthia caught sight of the pram behind Andromeda, and her eyes widened. She peered in to see Teddy lying on his back, transfixed by the baby toys that dangled above his head.

"And who's this?" she asked softly.

"That's Teddy," said Andromeda quietly.

Cynthia gasped in delight, and Teddy turned his wide blue gaze on her. Andromeda watched, feeling numb, as Cynthia beamed down at the baby. Teddy's mouth began to curl into a tentative smile in return. He stretched up one tiny hand and waved it. Cynthia, still beaming, gently took his hand and shook it, making gooey, gurgling sounds. Teddy's face split into a wide grin and he giggled.

Cynthia turned back to Andromeda with a wide smile. "Oh, Annie, he's lovely," she said. "He's not your son, surely?"

"Oh, no," replied Andromeda, feeling that the idea was quite ludicrous. "He's – he's my grandson."

The backs of Andromeda's eyes began to prickle as Cynthia gasped. "So … you mean he's Nymphadora's little boy?"

Andromeda nodded, lowering her head and biting her lip so hard that she tasted blood in her mouth.

"Not little Nymphadora who held my hand when we went to see the fireworks in Devon?" cried Cynthia joyfully, quite oblivious to the fact that Andromeda was staring at the ground as though her life depended on it. "Oh, Annie! How wonderful! I – I never even knew she had a partner!"

"She – she got married last summer," croaked Andromeda.

"Oh, how fantastic! Where is Nymphadora? I must congratulate her – and you of course!" Cynthia clapped Andromeda on the shoulder. "Congratulations on becoming a grandmother! Oh, and I would so love to meet her husband – what's his name?"

"His name … his name was …" Andromeda couldn't finish the sentence.

Cynthia, however, had realised that something wasn't right. "Annie?" she asked, her joyful smile fading into concern. "Are you alright?"

Andromeda gulped, feeling as though she was swallowing a stone. She could feel treacherous tears welling in her eyes, and Cynthia's face swam in front of her.

"What is it?" asked Cynthia anxiously. "Annie, what's wrong?" Andromeda simply shook her head fiercely, but it was too late. The tears were already spilling over her eyelids and running down her cheeks.

Then Cynthia's warm arms were wrapped tightly around her, rocking her gently. She couldn't hold back the flood of misery that was rising inside her any longer. Before she knew it, she was sobbing desperately into Cynthia's shoulder.

After a little while, Andromeda had regained control of herself enough to step back from Cynthia, who offered her a reassuring smile. Wiping her eyes, Andromeda attempted to give a watery smile in return, but her mouth felt frozen.

"Thank you," she managed to whisper. "You're a good friend."

"Annie, how about we go and get a couple of Butterbeers in the Leaky Cauldron, and you can tell me what's up," said Cynthia firmly. "I'm sure that whatever it is, it's better out than in!"

Andromeda raised her head and looked Cynthia right in the eye. There was no use in hiding it. Cynthia knew that something was the matter; she may as well tell her outright.

"Nymphadora is dead," she whispered, amazed at how her voice remained intelligible, even if it was shaky and waterlogged. "And so is her husband." Hardly aware of Cynthia's horror-struck face and wide eyes, she ploughed straight on; "they were killed on the same night, fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts." She took a deep breath. "And … Ted was killed, too. He was on the run, but the – the Snatchers got him." There. She'd said it. She'd faced her friend and actually said it. It was out now, and could never be taken back.

Cynthia's hand had flown to her mouth. "Oh, Annie," she whispered in a hushed voice. "Oh, I had no idea … I'm so sorry … I'm so, so sorry …" Cynthia looked weak with shock. Not seeming to know what else to do, she wrapped her arms around Andromeda again and gently rocked her. "I'm so sorry," she whispered again. "Don't you worry … it's OK …"

"Things can never be OK again," muttered Andromeda. "They've gone … everyone I loved … gone."

"I know," murmured Cynthia. "I know."

Andromeda felt resentment stirring in her. Of course Cynthia didn't know! How could she, when all her family were safe? She had said so herself! But she couldn't bring herself to snap at her. It felt good to just be rocked in her friend's arms; it soothed her a little, like a balm to the agonising sharp grief that pierced her heart.

"You – you're a good friend," she muttered after a little while. "I'm sorry you had to find me in this state."

"Of course not, Annie, don't you worry about that," said Cynthia firmly.

Half an hour later, Andromeda and Cynthia sat facing each other in the Leaky Cauldron, each sipping a glass of Butterbeer. Andromeda had calmed down sufficiently to have a long talk with Cynthia, about Dora and her wedding, about Teddy's birth, and even a bit about the Battle of Hogwarts. Somehow, talking with Cynthia felt soothing and refreshing instead of painful. She had forgotten how good it felt to simply talk with a good friend.

"Annie," said Cynthia after a little while, "I know that nobody can replace Dora or Ted, of course not. It is a … truly terrible thing to have happened. They were both great people, and I will mourn them with you. But Teddy is still here. He still needs you. Dora would have wanted you to take care of him."

Andromeda looked over into Teddy's pram. She had been so grief-stricken since the deaths of her husband, daughter and son-in-law that she had hardly been able to bring herself to look at the baby. She had cared for him dutifully, feeding him, changing him and buying him toys, but she hadn't played with him or lavished a huge amount of attention on him. She knew, deep down, that she couldn't bring herself to grow attatched to him, in case she lost him too.

Now, for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts, Andromeda looked down at her grandson's face and felt a surge of great affection. As she looked into his wide blue eyes, she recognised her daughter's spirit shining back out of them. The shape of Teddy's forehead and eyebrows reminded her of Remus' calm expression, and there was something of Ted in the shape of his nose and mouth.

Andromeda suddenly felt a surge of love so strong that it almost choked her. She gave a tearful smile, and for the first time, Teddy's face split into a wide grin and his light brown hair suddenly turned bright turquoise. Andromeda bent down and kissed him gently on the forehead.

She looked around, and saw Cynthia smiling at her, wiping her eyes.

Cynthia was right. Teddy was her daughter's son, and she needed him, perhaps just as much as he needed her.