Long chapter this time! Enjoy!
Trixie Black Lestrange
After that first Christmas, Dora stayed at Hogwarts with her friends through the holidays. Ted was quite aware that Nymphadora did not get along with other girls very well, and was almost sure that it was because his daughter was so different. He could see how much his daughter was changing, even through the two months she spent at home every year.
The summer after her third year, she got off the train and greeted her mother with a hug, asking, "Where's Dad?"
"He's working late tonight," Andromeda said, hugging the girl in return. "He said to tell you he's sorry and that he tried everything he could to get away, but they wouldn't let him."
"Oh." Nymphadora pouted for a few seconds, then said, "Okay. Let's go. I already said goodbye to everyone."
Andromeda caught her daughter by the arm and disapparated, the two appearing in the sitting room of their home. "Supper will be ready in half an hour if you want to settle in first," she told Dora. "I'll let you know when it's done." Dora nodded, then hurried off to her room.
A little while later, Andromeda called her daughter downstairs, and Nymphadora bounced down the stairs, joining her mother at the table. The two were eating in silence when they heard the crack! of someone apparating. Dora jumped up from the table and hurried to the doorway, shouting, "Dad!" before running to fling her arms around him in greeting. "Daddy!"
Ted Tonks laughed happily, embracing the fourteen-year-old tightly. "Welcome home," he laughed into her pink hair. "I missed you, Dora."
"I missed you too," came her muffled voice. "You should come eat. Supper's on the table."
"Okay," he chuckled. "Let me wash up first." Dora waited for him outside the dining room until he returned, slipping his arm around her and walking into the room. "Good evening, Love," he said to Andromeda, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
"Welcome home," she said quietly, setting a third plate out on the table.
Dora chattered endlessly about her school days to her father, who whooped with laughter when Dora described setting off dungbombs in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Charlie was mad," she giggled, "but afterward, he said it was a great prank. It serves them right for beating Hufflepuff at Quidditch. I got detention, but I'm not sorry. I would do the same to any House who did such a thing."
"We've heard all about your detentions," Andromeda said, with something that might have been a laugh. "You and Bella seem to have that in common: you're almost always in detention."
"Yeah," Dora muttered. "The Slytherins tell me that, but I don't think they'd know except for their parents telling them things. And because Bellatrix is sort of my aunt. Mum, is Sirius always going to be in Azkaban?"
Andromeda was surprised at the question, but sighed. "I don't know, Dora. That's what his sentence is, whether he was guilty or not. He never had a trial."
Ted glanced sideways at his daughter. "Do you think he was innocent?"
"Yes!" Dora snapped. "Everyone's so glad he's locked up, but I don't think he would have done it. There's no justice in the world!"
"No," agreed Andromeda, "there isn't. For anyone. It's just the way it is."
"It shouldn't be," Dora said plainly. "I wish I could do something about it."
Dora and her father were sitting on the window seat in her room, telling each other what they couldn't write in letters. "I—I've been making life miserable for some of the Slytherins that constantly make fun of me," Dora told her father. "But they don't know it's me. I...become someone else to do it."
"I see," Ted said. "Just don't get expelled, or sent to Azkaban."
"Of course not," Dora said indignantly. "I have no intention of being caught."
Her father laughed. "I suppose not." He then frowned. "Oh. I was supposed to tell you something else."
"Yes?" Dora asked, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
"We're going to see my parents and some of my cousins in about ten days," Ted answered. "I know it's not something you look forward to, but you're not alone. Your mother isn't looking forward to it either."
Dora snorted. "You'd never know it. She's just so perfect—Dad, I could never be like that. She's a perfect hostess, she's always such a stoic—Dad, I don't want to be like that. I know I'm not perfect, but Mother can't force me to be, either."
Ted shrugged. "She just wants you to be able to pretend to the world, like she was taught," he said. "That's just how your mother is: the outsiders aren't supposed to know anything that happens to us, or anything that we feel. Andromeda was always forced to act that way: that's why she's doing the same to you."
"Did I hear my name?" Andromeda asked, stepping into the room. Both her family members looked at each other awkwardly. "I believe I did. What are you talking about?"
"I'm not perfect," Nymphadora said defensively, frowning at her mother.
"No one said you have to be," Andromeda replied, sitting down on her daughter's other side. "Why?"
Dora crossed her arms in a self-protective gesture. "You always want me to be just like you, but I can't be. I want to have fun, and not be so serious all the time. And other things."
Andromeda shook her head. "We pretend to the world, Dora. You can have all the fun at home that you want, even if I don't like you to show off your abilities so much. Perfection is relative, and I could never expect you to be like me."
"But you do," Dora said sharply.
"Nymphadora," Andromeda began, her eyes darkening.
"Don't argue, please," Ted sighed, looking between the two of them. "It's the first night of summer and we shouldn't start that yet, if ever."
Andromeda bit her lip slightly, then hugged her daughter apologetically, kissing her black hair. "I guess your father will tuck you in," she said quietly. "Good night."
After she'd left the room, Nymphadora turned to her father and clung to him tightly. "I don't understand," she whispered. "Dad, why is Mum so mean?"
"She isn't," Ted sighed, wrapping his arms securely around the girl. "Dora, I've said over and over: your mother wants to do the best she can for you. If she's overly earnest about raising you properly, it's because she's afraid she'll do a terrible job. You're the only child she's got to practise on, you know."
"It isn't fair," Dora complained, her voice muffled. "It's not my fault I'm an only child."
"That was our decision," Ted said to her firmly. "I don't think I could handle more than one of you, Dora."
She giggled, looking up and kissing his cheek. "I love you, Dad," she said. "Thanks."
He hugged her again. "I love you too," he said. "Come now: I'll tuck you into bed."
Nymphadora jumped up, crossed the room quickly, and got into her bed, allowing her father to tuck the blanket around her. "Sing to me," she demanded. "Sing me that song you used to when I was a little girl."
"All right," he said softly, sitting down next to her. He began to sing the lullaby he had always sung to Dora every night before she went off to school. The song had always made Dora sleepy, and she listened to her father's voice sing the words in his native Gaelic. He kissed her forehead when the song was over, then left the room, turning out the light.
Ted went straight to his room, knowing that Andromeda would be in bed already. He was very used to the drill that occurred every time she and Dora argued. Ted dressed for bed, then crawled into bed next to his wife, facing her back. Soon enough, Andromeda turned over and reached for him, Ted wrapping his arms around her reassuringly.
He had no idea why both his daughter and his wife always felt especially insecure after they fought. Dora had always come to him for comfort, but Andromeda had taken a long time to seek his reassurance. She used to just lie there, either pretending to be all right, or completely ignoring his presence as she wept silently.
"Ted," she whispered as she pressed her face into his nightshirt, "I don't want Dora to be like me, but she doesn't understand. I can't explain anything to her—why can't I talk to her? What have I done wrong?"
"Andromeda," he murmured against her hair, "it isn't your fault. Dora just wants to be a child for a while longer. She'll grow up eventually: she's only just finished third year. Of course she won't mature as fast as you did."
"I don't want her to be like I've been," Andromeda cried softly, clinging to her husband. "Ted, she'll be miserable. I only want her to be happy, but I'm afraid that if she keeps showing off and doing childish pranks that she'll get hurt, or that someone will use her—oh, Ted!"
He rubbed her back as she cried into his shirt, cuddling her gently. "I don't want anything bad to happen to her," she sobbed softly. "But she won't stop, and I can't protect her when she's away! She doesn't understand what I'm trying to do!"
Ted murmured, "She's got to grow up, Dromeda. Nymphadora's only fourteen, remember. Of course she doesn't understand what her mother is trying to do. She's seeing it from a child's point of view, and doesn't understand why she can't play with her abilities in public. She just knows her powers are one thing that some of her schoolmates are extremely jealous of, and uses that to her advantage. She'd be all right, if it really came down to it. She's strong, Dromeda. You and I both know that."
"I'm so afraid for her," Andromeda whispered, trying to dry her eyes on her sleeve. "I just want her to be happy and healthy."
"I know," Ted reassured her. "We'll do everything in our power to make sure of that."
"Thanks," Andromeda sniffed, and he hugged her.
"Promise," he said, sealing the promise with a tender kiss. "Now sleep, Love." She sighed softly, closing her eyes and snuggling against him without a word.
Ted was able to keep peace between Andromeda and Nymphadora for the next several days, both seeming to agree that going to the home of their Muggle relatives wasn't something they desired at all. Andromeda was certain that Nymphadora hated the idea of playing with her Muggle cousins, but remembered that she'd promised Ted to do her best to get along with his family.
Dora reluctantly followed her parents up to the front door of her cousins' home, dragging her feet. They think I'm a freak, Ted remembered her saying to him. And I know I am, but they don't have to make fun of me!
He knocked on the door, Dora sidling closer to her mother, the two females hoping that Ted's family would be so excited to see him that they would be forgotten. They stood to the side as Ted's parents and cousins greeted him, and Andromeda was once again very grateful that Ted had been an only child. Nymphadora stood right next to her mother, arms crossed, awkwardly watching her cousins stare awkwardly at her.
After several minutes, one of the adults said, "Dora, why don't you join the other young people?"
"I'd rather not," Dora answered quietly, her hands folded in her lap, her hair a subdued brown.
"Come on," said one of her cousins. "You don't mean to sit with the parents the whole time. Come talk with us."
Dora slowly got to her feet and followed the blonde girl from the room. Andromeda watched them go, remembering the second girl from several years before. It must be Hope, she thought, and wondered that the one who had first accepted her would help Dora as well.
Ted talked with his parents and the others, but Andromeda remained silent unless she was specifically asked a question. She had nothing in common with her husband's people except that they were all human. Well, she supposed they were.
No more than thirty minutes after Dora had gone, Andromeda felt a disturbance in the elements around her and detected Dora's magic. Oh Merlin, no, Andromeda thought in horror, jumping to her feet and crossing the room.
"Andromeda, what are you—?" No sooner had Ted began to speak, than the windows shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, and Andromeda dashed from the room without answering.
"Dora?" she called out, striding down the hall. She could feel her daughter's panic, and the strong call for help that Nymphadora was accidentally giving off.
A door burst open, and someone ran straight into Andromeda, bouncing off and gasping, "Oh, please, it wasn't me, I swear—the boys and Daisy—your daughter's really angry—"
Andromeda pushed the blonde girl out of the way, her wand out as she waved the door open, revealing her daughter cornered by her Muggle cousins. It didn't seem that Nymphadora was in danger, but there was a body on the floor, and Andromeda hurried forward into the room, feeling Dora's magic waver slightly. She forced the brats aside, striding over to her daughter, who was shaking with rage, her hair red and white together.
"Mum," Dora almost whimpered, and her mother wrapped her arm around her, holding her to her side.
"What have you done to my daughter?" Andromeda demanded in fury, glaring around at the filth around her. Hope stood at the doorway, looking terrified.
"They were making fun of her—she did magic and they made fun of her, and her hair turned red, and—" Hope put her hand to her mouth, shaking her head in horror. "She did something to him." Hope motioned to the young man on the floor.
"Mum," Dora whimpered again, and her mother squeezed her gently, kissing her hair as she kept watch. "It's okay, Dora," she said softly. They are filth.
One of the younger girls cried, "Okay? It's not okay! She hurt Dan'l!"
Dora glared at her fiercely, and she looked away, afraid to speak out again. Andromeda glared around at them all, her left arm possessively and protectively wrapped around her daughter. "Let's go," she said firmly, encouragingly.
Andromeda led her daughter from the room, Nymphadora stumbling a little. They met Ted and two or three others in the hall, but the two girls brushed past them, heading straight for the front door. Ted was watching them as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and the other young people were now tumbling out of the room to see what would happen.
"What's going on, Andromeda?" demanded Ted's mother. "What happened to Dan'l?"
"He was making fun of my daughter and she struck him down," Andromeda said coldly. "He'll be fine once he wakes up."
"He'll be sore," Dora muttered under her breath. "I meant to hurt him."
Ted's father hurried into the room, then stopped and shook his head in confusion. "All the windows are blown out!" he said. "What happened?"
Dora looked up at her grandfather. "Magic."
"Don't be ridiculous," said one of her other boy cousins. "You can't have done all that while standing in the same room with us."
"I did!" Dora shrieked at him, her magic crackling again.
Andromeda could feel her daughter's fear and anger rising and stood tall, facing her husband and his family. "Magic is what my daughter and I are," she said dangerously, her icy voice capturing all their attention. "I am a witch, Dora is a witch—you would do well not to scoff at what you in no way understand." She flung out her right arm, light and magic filling the room for a few seconds as two or three of the cousins shrieked in fright. "We will never set foot in this house again." She turned to the door, Nymphadora at her side, and left without looking back.
Andromeda walked into their small home, Dora stumbling after her. "Dora," she said, turning to her daughter. The girl's hair had gone completely black, the girl shaking as her magic crackled erratically. "Dora," her mother said worriedly, "what happened?"
"I'm—not a freak," Dora managed to gasp out as she tried not to burst into tears, but she sounded as if she almost didn't believe it. "I hate them—I hate them all. I'll never go back." Her voice was shaking, but it was strong, her words coming out clearly, resolutely.
"I'll never make you," Andromeda promised her daughter softly. "You're not a freak, Dora. You're special, powerful, and there are always those that will want your power, and those that will be afraid of your power."
"Mum," Dora whispered, "I—I cursed him. That stupid boy—"
Andromeda frowned at her daughter's tone. "What did you do?" She bit her lip when Dora held out her wand to her. Andromeda looked straight into her daughter's eyes, then performed the spell to make Dora's wand show what it had done. "Nymphadora Tonks!" her mother gasped in horror, staring from the wand to the girl. "Where did you learn that spell?"
Nymphadora sank down on the couch, biting her lip. "At school," she whimpered. "Mum, will I be in trouble?"
The brown-haired woman sighed, sitting down next to her daughter and squeezing her hand before pressing the girl's wand into her hand. "No. I made sure there would be no trace on your wand," she confided to the girl. "But you must bury the Curse in mediocrity, just in case. Do cleaning spells, summoning, banishing, locking wards—any everyday charm or spell to further the spell history."
"I told you he'd be sore," Nymphadora sniffed.
Andromeda laughed in spite of herself, hugging her daughter. "Don't do it again," she told Dora.
The girl nodded, staring off into space. "I hate them," she hissed. "I hate Muggles."
"Me too," Andromeda admitted. "But we'll never go back there, so don't think on it too much."
"They're awful," Dora muttered, curling up against her mother. "I can't believe Dad came from that family.
Andromeda stroked her daughter's hair gently, sighing. Her child's father hadn't come from that family: Ted had.
When Ted arrived home, he glanced at Andromeda and didn't even speak. He truly did look exhausted, and very sad, but she still wanted to Curse him, as Dora had Cursed the Muggle. He hung up his cloak, then stood there silently, awkwardly glancing around for Dora.
"I sent her on to her room," Andromeda told him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How is it? Is Dan'l all right? How are the windows?"
Ted rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ah, he's okay, but he ran away from me like I had the plague," he sighed.
Not the plague, Andromeda giggled inwardly. Just Nymphadora.
"He seemed to be sore, but he wasn't injured as far as I could tell," Ted shrugged. "But the windows—a simple spell wouldn't repair them! I think they'll have to get them completely replaced. I help them close them up, though."
"Good," Andromeda said plainly.
"Good!?" Ted said indignantly. "Do you know how much that costs?"
"Do you know how much this incident cost our daughter?" Andromeda demanded, sure that her hair would have been bright red if she could still morph. "They were supposed to be her family, her...friends." Andromeda said the last word bitterly. "They made fun of who she is, Edward. Nymphadora is magic: she uses it all the time to change herself. She is almost never not using magic! I will not have her called a freak and a monster! I will not allow them to make fun of her for being who she was born to be!"
A step creaked on the staircase, and both adults turned to see Dora step into the room. "Don't argue, please," she said.
Ted looked to the girl and sighed, shaking his head. "Dora, darling, I'm so sorry—are you angry with me?"
"N—no," she answered, crossing the room and putting her arms around him. Dora hugged her father tightly, trying to assure him that she didn't blame him. "I'm not going back," she said, looking up at her dad's face pleadingly. "Please don't ask me to. Dad, I can't. They don't understand me—I'm too different." She closed her eyes, trembling slightly as her magic crackled again.
"Dora, what are you doing?" her dad said uncomfortably, releasing her suddenly.
Nymphadora looked shocked, staring first at her dad before glancing at her mother. "I'm not doing anything," she whispered, looking ready to cry. "I'm sorry."
She turned to leave, but her mother stepped forward and stopped her. Dora began to cry softly, very confused and hurt. "You're not doing it on purpose," Andromeda told the girl, hugging her gently. "It's your magic—it's activated to protect you. I felt it when they started calling you names; it was as if you'd sent out a distress signal. Your magic is just crackling around you, ready to be used if necessary. It feels strange if you're not used to it."
Ted looked between his wife and daughter, remaining silent. He wasn't sure if Dora would be able to handle an apology. She was so much like her mother when she was upset, but Ted wasn't sure what stage Dora was in at the moment, and didn't want to find out the hard way.
"I won't force you to go back," Ted promised his daughter. "Neither of you have to. They'd rather not see you again, especially after the windows—it was a good show, Dora."
"Good!" Dora smirked, wiping her tears away. "I meant it to teach them a lesson! Not that they would understand what it meant."
He stepped forward again and put his arms around the fourteen year old girl. "I didn't mean to insult you," he said. "I didn't want to be sore, though."
Dora returned his embrace, muttering, "Well, I love you more than that."
"I love you too," he answered with a small laugh.
"Oh," Andromeda sighed, suddenly remembering the reason they'd gone to Ted's family's house anyway. "We never got dinner."
"I'm not hungry," Dora said stubbornly.
Ted shrugged at her response, laughing, "I get the waffles, then."
Andromeda frowned at her husband. "That is not supper!"
Nymphadora giggled, "You can't have any unless you share! You promised, Dad!" Ted grinned at her, then shrugged at his wife.
"You can have a real supper, if you want," Ted said apologetically. "I'd rather have something light."
"Like waffles," Andromeda sputtered. "Fine, then."
"Sorry, Dromeda," Ted chuckled, leading his daughter to the kitchen.
Later that night, Andromeda slipped into her bed alone, waiting for Ted to come back from tucking Nymphadora into bed. He was taking a little bit longer than normal, and she had finished waiting patiently several minutes ago.
Andromeda was almost asleep when Ted walked into their room, shutting the door quietly behind him before quickly dressing for bed. "Are you upset with me?" he asked her hesitantly, turning to face her in their bed.
She watched his innocent, earnest face for a moment before sighing, "No. It wasn't you. It wasn't your fault. I just wish it hadn't happened."
"That makes three of us."
"I thought your opinion made three of us," Andromeda snorted. "Dora and I already decided that we disapprove."
"Do you know what she said to me?" Ted asked quietly, sounding slightly concerned. "She said, 'So, Dad, I don't have any family except you and Mum.' She hasn't got anyone but us, Dromeda."
Andromeda closed her eyes, guilt shooting through her. "I know," she whispered. "She never did, but we could pretend until now. I'm glad the pretending is over, but I didn't want it to happen like this."
Ted agreed, then said, "It never turned out the way I'd hoped it would."
"I'm just not the type," Andromeda shrugged. "I'm the least likely person to get along with clueless Muggles."
"Least?" Ted raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was Nymphadora."
"No, that's just anyone in general," Andromeda sighed. "Including her friends. She told me that she fights with everyone she knows. Charlie is her closest friend, and they still fight, and his older brother gets involved sometimes as well."
"I'm so sorry about them," Ted muttered. "I didn't think my own family would do such a thing. I tried to tell Dora, but I think she's scarred for life. Her magic is still doing that weird crackle thing."
Andromeda sighed. "If she isn't back to normal soon, I'm going to take her to that Healer. I hope her magic wasn't traumatized, or disrupted because of what happened. I'm going to try to keep a close eye on Nymphadora to make sure she gets over it all right."
Ted nodded, then pulled the blankets up over them, settling down to sleep. Neither he nor Andromeda made any move toward each other at all. Each one sensed that they were not completely happy with the other, and went to sleep on their own.