Author's note: 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
Content Warnings: Smorgasbord of canon-compliant prejudice and discrimation, running away from home
Born For the Roses and the Pearls
She watched her mother fasten the clasp behind Bellatrix's neck and then kiss her daughter's ear as they admired the bride to be in the mirror.
"There," Mother said as she beamed. "You make for a beautiful, beautiful bride Bellatrix."
Bella smiled, which she only did when she really meant it so her smiles were always beautiful, as she examined her equally beautiful reflection. Her fingertips ran over the diamonds at her neck carefully, as if she were trying to feel out the engravings on a gravestone without disturbing the moss. The necklace hung tightly on her neck before dropping down in dramatic curls and spirals and twists that looked like roses of starlight blooming across her sister's chest.
"I can not believe I am wearing this after seeing it in so many family photos," Bellatrix said. Andromeda had never even seen the necklace out of the polished oak chest it was kept in. The only time she had seen it in person, her mother hadn't lifted the jewel from the night sky blue bed it rested on. She had only cracked open the lid of its protective case conspiratorially and smiled as the diamonds caught the light and her eyes widened, as if she was showing her three young daughters a secret. It had felt like one, and it had felt good to share it.
"It is even in Imeldina Black's wedding portrait," Bellatrix said, still stunned. "Is it our oldest family heirloom?"
"It might be," their mother conceded. "I should check with your father. At any rate, I do believe that you wear it best, my dear."
At that moment Bellatrix caught Andromeda's eyes in the mirror, from where she stood straight and still so she wouldn't wrinkle her eggplant purple wedding dress the same way Narcissa had wrinkled her satin flower girl dress.
"At least until it's Andra's turn to walk down the aisle one day," she said mischievously. She even shot Andromeda a wink and cracked a smile. And Andromeda, because she was only twelve years old, smiled.
She had only spoken to Ted Tonks a few times. Since they were both good at drawing and eager to please, their Herbology instructor Professor Ataulfo often asked them to sketch out diagrams of magical flora on the chalkboard in between lessons to help him prepare, since he was starting to lose his sight. He started paying them two Sickles per sketch, which made for good Honeydukes money. So, when they both became prefects in fifth year, they already knew each other.
Maybe that was why it was so easy, almost too easy, for Andromeda to make small talk with that boy, linger as they washed McGonagall's blackboards after class, match his steps when they took the long way back to their respective common rooms after prefect meetings, take her sweet time to shade the leaves on Ataulfo's board, or volunteer to wash beakers for Slughorn if she saw his hand go up first. Arguably, it was too easy. Especially since Ted was endlessly creative and energetic and liked to make up games that they could play in unused corners of the blackboard with chalk.
One day, when he asked her to draw the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, she drew the necklace and its glittering roses. She did not expect to see him sketch out the constellation that was her namesake, but when he did it she believed him.
There were no secrets in Ted's family. Everyone and everything was loud and clear, from his mum's voice when she called everyone in from supper to his father coming home from work with oil on his hands, and the squeals and shrieks of his younger siblings when they played in the yard. It was, in many ways, much happier. Having a small gaggle of children to play make-believe games and to pick green beans in the yard with was definitely a silver lining, once Andromeda ran away and needed to take her mind off her own sisters and the world she'd left behind. This was, after all, how she had kept herself busy and happy at family functions for years now; puttering around with the little ones and her cousins. And Ted's siblings (from baby Benjamin and cool second-oldest Julie, to the twins Anna and Liz, and Michelle square in the middle) all seemed to adopt her too. At any rate, they were all very enthusiastic and determined to help when Mrs. Tonks staged an intervention and declared that they needed more of a wedding than the secret signing of a marriage license in the little Ministry output in Hogsmeade.
Andromeda protested at first—she had nothing to contribute. The little gold she had managed to squirrel away before running away from home was mostly going to secure the London flat she and Ted would take over while studying at St. Mungo's, once summer ended. But it turned out that her in-laws were more stubborn than she could ever be, because before she knew it she was looking forward to a garden party in the Tonks' backyard. Some of their friends from Hogwarts would be coming, along with Ted's extended family, some family friends from synagogue, and curious neighbours. Since Professor Slughorn had kept so many secrets for them at school, they decided to invite him—figuring he would get a kick out of that. Out of Andromeda's friends only one, Cassandra Shacklebolt, had kept in touch but Andromeda didn't mind. There was so much excitement in the house that she let it flood her and drown out her nerves and jitters.
The day of, Mrs Tonks firmly barred Ted from the top floor of the house while Andromeda got ready with the little kids fluttering around her. When she had first realized that she needed Muggle clothes to wear, she had discovered a small consignment shop in town and that was where she had found her dress. She wasn't sure if it was meant to be a wedding dress, but it was white. She liked that it had straps instead of sleeves and it swirled just below her knees when she walked as if she were in a storybook. She had put some of her Pureblood debutante skills to use and sewn a strip of lace around the waist, which she thought made it bridal enough for their purposes. Andromeda, as far as she was concerned, had been married the moment she signed her license—nevermind the fact that she spent four more months waiting out the end of the school year before she could leave her family and wear the ring Ted had found her openly. But the excitement in the house was both touching and contagious.
The little girls wanted their braids to match the one snaking around Andromeda's crown and pinned behind her ear, so she obliged. Their mother sent them to the yard after that, to help set tables or another similar task, and then it was her and Andromeda and the master bedroom's mirror.
"You really do look stunning," Mrs. Tonks said with a smile.
"Thank you, Mrs. T—Laura," she corrected herself. "For, well, for everything..."
"Nonsense," Laura said. "There's always room in my house for an extra daughter. Especially one that can do the dishes with a single spell."
Andromeda laughed.
"You're going to miss me when we go off to the Healing Academy."
"I have already imparted on your husband the importance and frequency at which I expect to have you two come home," Laura said. "Speaking of your husband, he told me about one of your family traditions. Well, not a tradition but an heirloom that brides wore on their wedding day."
"Oh," Andromeda said. She remembered the sketch she had drawn for Ted what felt like a million years ago, the way the diamonds caught the light, the sound of the box's hinges when her mother cracked it open, that smile she had given Bellatrix that Andromeda had made her peace with never having…
"Yes," she said, clearing her throat. "It's a necklace, a very old one."
"He said it was quite beautiful," Mrs. Tonks said. "At least from what he remembered of your drawing…"
"It… it was," Andromeda said. She tried to change the subject; her in-laws seemed to worry when they heard about some of the things that Andromeda had grown up taking for granted in the world of pure-bloods, and they worried about her. Besides, she didn't want to spend this day in her memories and nostalgia and grief for the life she had willingly left but missed parts and pieces of. She tried to sound cheerful. "But I am sure it would be quite heavy. And it definitely would not go with this dress."
"Perhaps I have something that will," Mrs. Tonks said. She walked over to a dresser and reached into a drawer filled with socks, extracting a long black case. She brought it to Andromeda and opened it, revealing a delicate string of creamy white pearls inside. Andromeda's mouth dropped, but Mrs. Tonks filled her in.
"My mother snuck these out of Poland," she said. "She kept them hidden and tucked away until the day she died, so they haven't seen many happy days. I suppose that they deserve that chance, and that you deserve a new family tradition since you've done this brave thing to make a new family for yourself. We have a good window to do both of those things today."
Andromeda didn't quite know what to say as she looked at the creamy white pearls.
"You don't have to wear them," Mrs. Tonks promised. "I won't be offended."
"I would love to," Andromeda said quietly. "They… they are beautiful and this is… this is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me."
Mrs. Tonks smiled and carefully lifted up the pearls from the case and fastened the necklace behind Andromeda's neck. The pearls were cool against her skin. She reached up to touch the necklace with those steady hands that had made Slughorn suggest she consider Healing, brushing the pearls with her fingertips only. They felt more precious than any amount of diamonds could; they probably would have even had the beads been the plastic ones her newest little sisters used to make each other bracelets.
"I know you're already married," Mrs. Tonks said gently. "But you make for a beautiful bride, Andromeda."
And Andromeda smiled in the mirror too, because she was a happy bride surrounded by a happy family and that was all that really mattered wasn't it?
Nymphadora slipped into the kitchen and hoisted herself on the counter, watching Andromeda do the dishes.
"What are you doing?" Nymphadora asked casually.
"The dishes."
"By hand?"
"Yes," Andromeda said. She knew where Nymphadora was going with this; Andromeda only did the dishes by hand if she was upset and needed to buy herself some time alone to cool off or think something through. "Where is your Remus?"
"Dad is showing him his Hopping Hydrangea," she said. "He might have a trick to stop it from tumbling when it lands—something about giving it a more acidic soil? Not sure, I absolutely spaced out."
Andromeda nodded and went back to scrubbing the glass dish Remus had bought dessert in—a chocolate and strawberry pie that had almost been sweet and buttery enough to help make the news he and Dora had also brought go down just a little bit more sweetly.
"Mum," Nymphadora said more seriously now. "Mum, I know you have things to say so go ahead and say them while it's you and me."
Andromeda plunged her hands in the hot, soapy water one last time to take a deep breath before drying them on the tea towel slung over her shoulder.
"You eloped," Andromeda said. "You… you eloped."
"Yes," Dora nodded.
"You got married, without any of us there," Andromeda said.
"I know. It… it happened fairly quickly," Dora said. "We didn't mean it to be like that; we didn't mean it to be personal."
Andromeda didn't dignify that with an answer, she just went back to her soapy water.
"Really? That's mighty ironic coming from you," Dora pointed out.
"Your father and I's situation was different. You know it was different. We had a very good reason to do it."
"You didn't ask us what our reasons were," Dora said.
"Fine, what were your reasons?" Andromeda asked coolly.
"The Order of the Phoenix got its hands on a very cryptic and confidential internal memo from the Ministry that discussed tightening the surveillance and cutting some rights for magical creatures as a war measure," Dora said matter-of-factly. She wrinkled her nose. "Because people are idiots, that includes werewolves. We weren't sure if marriage rights would be affected, but we didn't want to wait and find out. Not… not after everything."
"Right," Andromeda said, pursing her lips.
"Merlin, there it is," Nymphadora sighed.
"What?"
"Mum, if you have a problem, say it," Dora said. "I know you were raised to be emotionally constipated and I'm trying to be patient, but I don't want to be passive aggressive about this."
Andromeda ignored those last observations.
"Alright," she said. "I don't… I don't know what kind of life you think you will lead with Remus, but it… it will be very different."
"I'm aware," Dora said. She tucked a piece of bubblegum pink hair behind her ear, looking younger than she was sitting on the counter in her striped sweater and yellow sneakers. "I don't mind different."
"I know you don't but this is different. This will be difficult," Andromeda said. "He is older than you."
"I noticed."
"He's sick…"
"He's sick once a month," Nymphadora replied. "And he knows how to take care of himself and manage things."
"Can he work?"
"He does," Dora said. "He gets a few contracts and gigs under the table here and there, and he takes work when people aren't absolute dickheads about it and he finds it. And right now he's working for the Order full time. He's been keeping us all grounded and organized and safe since Dumbledore went and died."
"And how much does that pay?"
"That's a fun question to ask in the middle of a war."
"You will not be able to live off of idealism forever."
"Luckily, I have a job of my own," Nymphadora said.
"So he'll be living off of you?"
"Merlin, Mum," Nymphadora said. "We're partners. That means we get to help each other and tide each other over until things get better in the world. Why are you putting it like that?"
"Because it's the reality, is it not?" Andromeda asked. "And it would only get worse if you had children. If you had children… what would that even look like?"
"Mum," Nymphadora snapped.
"I am asking these questions because they are important, and it is important that you thought this through," Andromeda said.
"I'm not a child: I know what I want and why," she said. "Why is that so bloody hard for everyone to understand?"
"And it is him that you want?" Andromeda asked.
"I can't fucking believe you."
"Watch your tongue."
"Absolutely the fuck not."
"Nymphadora—"
"Andromeda," her husband's voice said evenly.
She turned around and paled when she saw Ted in the kitchen doorway with Remus in tow, both holding pairs of gardening gloves. Remus had paled too, so that the scars across his jawline and the other she'd noticed by his eye during dinner didn't seem anywhere as prominent. Andromeda's blood froze.
"Well, thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings, Mum," Dora said before hopping off the counter. "It's getting late. We should head home. I'll see you… when I can stand to look at you, I guess."
Andromeda couldn't find the right words to say anything or do anything more than watch, as Nymphadora grabbed Remus's hand and tugged him out of the kitchen. He awkwardly handed Ted the pair of gardening gloves he'd had in hand and mumbled something that might have been a good night or about acidic soil before being dragged away—making a point not to look at Andromeda.
Andromeda looked at Ted.
"I did not mean for this to escalate," she said.
"I know," Ted said.
"How much did he hear?" she asked.
"Enough."
"And you heard it all as well?"
"Yes."
"Did you disagree?" she asked. She and Nymphadora had disagreed on a hundred things while she had been growing up; the colour of her hair, the tears in her jeans, the volume of her music, her dangerous career path, the amount of eyeliner she wore… but Andromeda had never had that sinking feeling in her stomach after they had fought that something very wrong and very bad had happened.
"Not necessarily," Ted said. "I simply would have kept some of those concerns to myself. Maybe I would have phrased them somewhat differently."
"She asked me what I thought," Andromeda said. "Should I have lied to her? Is it not my role, as her mother, to be honest with her? To take care of her? To look out for her?"
Ted didn't answer, just picked the dried dirt from his gardening gloves.
"What?" she asked, knowing that he had something to say under all that politeness. He put the gloves down on the edge of the counter and dug his hands in his pockets.
"I just wonder if that's how your mother would have answered that question," Ted said. "That's all."
Andromeda's jaw tightened.
"It was different, you and I," she said.
"Maybe," Ted said. "Or maybe every story where two people who love each other have to fight to be together is really the same."
Andromeda's stomach sank as he said it, as he reminded her that that was at the bottom of this whole mess in the first place regardless of what she thought of it. Love.
"I made a mistake," she said.
"We'll fix it," Ted promised, crossing the kitchen to wrap his arms around her.
"Hello," Remus said when she opened the front door. Andromeda instantly realized that he had been hoping for Ted, not her.
"I heard that you were around today, for us to come pick up the pie dish," Remus said awkwardly. "Dora said she would do it after work, but she's been so busy I… I thought I would come by."
The subtext to that was probably that Dora didn't want to and… well, frankly, Andromeda couldn't blame her.
"Of course, let me go get it for you," she said. "You can come in."
Remus stood awkwardly in the entrance, hands folded together. This would be smoother if Ted was home, and she felt guilty for it. How long had it taken Mrs. Tonks to warm up to her, all those years ago when Ted had first brought her home? About twelve seconds, tops? Andromeda was not a very warm person; she was as stiff as a corset and demure as the gowns she'd grown up in. But surely, she could do better.
On her way out of the kitchen, pie dish in hand, she hiked up the stairs to the bedroom she and Ted shared and slid the closet door open. She opened her jewelry box and carefully fetched the long, black box she had kept under lock and key, as safe as possible, for so many years. She held it tightly as she walked back downstairs.
"Here you are, we cleaned it but it might need a quick wipe," she said, handing Remus the pie dish. "And you should give this to Nymphadora as well."
She opened the box to show him the pearls resting inside, last touched when her sister-in-law Julie had gotten married about five years ago. She and her wife had taken turns wearing what had become the family pearls during the informal and technically not-legal ceremony and reception. Maybe every story where two people who love each other have to fight to be together is really the same, Ted had said. She believed it. And she wanted Remus to know she believed it, after the awful things he had heard her say, so that he could tell Nymphadora himself and they would know.
"The women in the Tonks family wear these on our wedding days," Andromeda said. "I realize that my timing is slightly off for Nymphadora, but she should hold onto them anyways. They are hers now."
Remus looked at the pearls and then at Andromeda and then at the pearls again.
"They're beautiful," he said politely.
"I thought so too, when I first saw them," Andromeda said. "Although I am sure she was a beautiful bride without them."
Remus shifted awkwardly, not sure what to do with this peace offering. Frankly, Andromeda didn't know either.
"She… she was," Remus said. He pondered something before carefulling adding: "I think we have a picture or two, from the night we got married in the tavern. We could… we should show them to you."
"I would like to see them," Andromeda said. "Maybe… Well, the wedding is done but maybe we can have dinner to properly celebrate."
Remus hesitated and then nodded.
"I'll make sure she gets the pearls," he promised. "She could wear them then, if we do get dinner sorted out."
"Yes," Andromeda said, relieved about the unspoken understanding that seemed to be taking off between the two of them. "She could."
Andromeda kept her hands folded across her lap as she watched Victoire turn in the mirror and look at herself, and the white gown she was wearing, from all angles. Her mother readjusted the strap across her shoulders and nodded, chattering about how beautiful and grown-up she looked. Since Andromeda remembered most of the French she had been taught as a child, they were all chattering in French—since Victoire had brought along her mother and sister to go wedding dress shopping as well. Truly, Andromeda was touched that she had been invited as well—especially since Teddy was being such a curious and nosey menace about what Victoire would be wearing.
"Let me go find the seamstress, I am sure something can be done about this," Fleur said when the strap slid down Victoire's shoulder yet again.
"Maman, don't worry about it," Victoire said. "She'll be back soon—"
"There she goes," Dominique commented as Fleur disappeared down the aisles of white lace and silk and organza, leaning back into the sofa she was on and smirking. Victoire rolled her eyes and looked at her reflection yet again.
Now with Fleur gone, Andromeda got up and approached the bride-to-be. The dress was stunning, in the way it hugged Victoire and flared out at the waist. It was covered in a pattern of white flowers connected by embroidered green vines which made it distinct and unusual, but with a veil in her hair and that glow about her, Victoire was unmistakingly a bride.
"It suits you like a glove," Andromeda said quietly, slipping an arm around Victoire's waist.
"Thank you," Victoire said. She bent down from the pedestal she'd stepped onto and wrapped an arm around Andromeda.
"If you like, I have a set of pearls that would look splendid with your dress," she said. "They've been in our family for some time now, and they should be yours now."
"I would love that," Victoire said. "Thank you, Grandma."
And Andromeda smiled, looking at the third woman who would wear these pearls proudly.
WC: 3916
