Author's note: My brain sure was in a mood today: oof. But this also ties in to a character relationship you quite liked when it made a brief cameo about 1000 chapters ago so hopefully this works out nicely. Plus, I don't think Andromeda's point of view has been featured in this series before. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights

Hogwarts: Assignment #12, Sociology Task 3: Write about someone who's been married for more than ten years

Content Warnings: Mentions canon character death and grief

An Offer of Company

The clicking and clacking of her knitting needles were keeping Andromeda company, almost in the same way that someone breathing or sipping on coffee was company enough on a quiet morning. She was making a sweater for Teddy, hoping that her grandson wouldn't outgrow it by the time she'd finished enough rows of painstaking stockinette with the thin blue yarn she'd chosen. She had always been a good knitter, but more meticulous than quick. Besides, in a Pureblood household more delicate and decorative skills were valued—lace-making, embroidery… She'd always been a bit of an oddity, but she liked putting that to use now.

She put the knitting down when the doorbell rang through the house and eased out of her rocking chair, crossing the house soundlessly. She was somewhat surprised to see Remus on her front door; one hand holding Teddy's car seat, and the other holding a tin.

"Remus," she said.

"Hello," he said-cordial as always.

"Was… was I supposed to take Teddy today?" she asked, trying to remember what time of the month it was. She was trying to get better at keeping track, really she was for Dora's sake, but it was a hard habit to get into.

"No," Remus said. "No, not at all, although I'm sure he wouldn't mind saying hello to Grandma."

He looked over and smiled down at the little boy, chewing on the leg of a stuffed pink octopus, before clearing his throat and looking up again. Andromeda couldn't help but smile as well when she looked at the little boy with his wispy purple hair.

"Actually, I came by because Dora mentioned that today would have been you and Ted's anniversary," he said. He held out the tin and she took it, carefully cracking the lid open. There were biscuits inside-chocolate chip-studded biscotti. She had mentioned that she liked them months ago, when he had been baking constantly to satisfy Dora's sweet-toothed pregnancy cravings. He must have remembered.

Her son-in-law cleared his throat awkwardly again.

"I… I know that if something had happened to Dora during a war, I… I would have fallen apart on the day I remembered marrying her," he said. "I understand that you and I are not very close, but short of offering you company this was the best I could think of."

The gesture was so soft, Andromeda didn't know what to say at first. Perhaps she understood what Dora had tried to explain months ago, what felt like a lifetime ago, when Andromeda had been absolutely bewildered about her choice of a partner. Dora had defended him so fiercely-arguing that all the best parts of Remus were quiet and gentle, so sometimes the thoughtfulness hit you like a ton of bricks. She had seen it for herself since then, of course: when he soothed Teddy, said something in a crowded room quietly enough for only Sirius to hear or laugh, fussed over Dora when she tripped or knocked an elbow into a wall… It was one of the dozens of little ways that Remus had proved her daughter right, about all the things Andromeda hadn't seen in him or perhaps had been too prejudiced to see in him when they'd first met—although that thought sat uncomfortably with her. She felt touched that she was included in his thoughts and gentleness now, although he still looked shifty and uncertain on her doorstep.

"Thank you," Andromeda said quietly. She had never been an overly affectionate person, the habit had never been bred into her or shown. It occurred to her that perhaps Remus didn't know how to read her like the rest of her family did; that he didn't know how much he had come to mean to her. When she had burst into St. Mungo's as the dust settled on the Battle of Hogwarts looking for the pair of them, he had been unconscious after all. Perhaps to him she was still the distant and unsure and judgemental mother-in-law she had been when he had first married Dora.

That wouldn't do. If there was anything worth remembering on the day that she had married Ted, so very long ago, it was how heartbroken she'd been as a girl to realize that her family would never love him like she did, how thankful she was that her own in-laws had taken her in, and how warm and welcoming Ted would be if he was here today.

"If you don't mind, I would take you up on your offer of company as well," Andromeda said quietly. "Even if I… Well, I'm afraid I won't be very social today. I haven't been able to do much more than sit and knit."

"I have a book in Teddy's baby bag," Remus said carefully. Andromeda heard it for what it was: an invitation. Teddy would chew on his octopus, Remus would read, she would knit, and they would all be together.

"Come in, then," Andromeda said, stepping aside. She tilted the tin towards him. "These will be lovely with some tea. And you, Mr Teddy, are absolutely lovely all on your own—aren't you?"

"I can go put the kettle on while you two catch up," Remus said, passing the baby carrier to her.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, make yourself at home."

WC: 880