Ted Talks: Part 1
The first Ted heard of it was at the start of July, a few weeks after Sirius died. Dora was out of hospital and had insisted on going back to work and back to her flat as soon as she could, sooner than Ted would have liked. When Dora popped round to visit Ted and Andromeda at the end of her second week back at the Ministry, her hair was a bland brown colour. Ted shot Dromeda as perplexed glance, but his wife shrugged and went to hug their daughter as she appeared out of the fire. Dora seemed down all evening and when Dromeda was out of the room (Ted's wife and daughter did not have the easiest of relationships, and Andromeda was taking Sirius' death hard. Ted thought it best that she not be here for this conversation) he'd asked gently, "Dora, your hair?"
"Mmm?"
"Did you morph it like that?"
"Um...no," she mumbled, then grimaced and pled, "Don't make me say it, Dad,"
Ah. Ted had suspected this, vaguely remembering something similar happening to Dora for a while when his father died. The magic wasn't working.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Cheers. It's so bloody humiliating how obvious it is,"
"I know I've said it before, but what happened to Sirius wasn't your fault," Ted reassured her.
"Hmm," she mumbled again, sounding unconvinced.
"Mad-Eye said that even he couldn't have-"
"Put a sock in it will you?" Dora snapped, "It isn't just about Sirius,"
"What?"
"Well," she squirmed, "It is sort of. I dunno. I don't know anything about it anymore, that much is obvious,"
Miserably, she tugged on a lock of brown hair.
"What do you mean?" Ted asked.
His daughter screwed her eyes shut, cringing. "I was seeing somebody and we split up,"
Ted hadn't expected that.
"Oh. Sorry to hear that," he replied, nonplussed. She was as upset over some bloke as she was about Sirius dying?
"Yeah," she muttered.
"I don't need to go round and box a young man's ears, do I?" Ted offered, wincing at himself when the joke didn't come out right.
"No. It wasn't like that," Dora sighed.
"It's clearly upset you,"
"Yeah, it has," she confirmed dejectedly, "Don't tell Mum, okay?"
Ted's daughter had remained miserable for the rest of the Summer. She visited every few weeks looking increasingly drawn, and the brown hair remained. At the end of August she reported that she was being posted to Hogwarts to guard the castle.
"I'll be there all school year," she explained.
"How many of you?" asked Dromeda.
"Me, Savage, Proudfoot and Dawlish,"
Dawlish, Ted knew, was the renowned idiot of the Auror department. Dora would usually make a joke about how useless and irritating he was, but this time she didn't.
"Are they expecting an attack on the school?" Ted asked.
"Don't suppose so, but it's a possibility, isn't it? Plus Harry,"
Dora's world seemed to revolve around Harry Potter.
"They're not going to come for the boy at school, are they?"
"They might," Andromeda cut in, "They'll be after him like bloodhounds,"
"Especially after the Ministry," Dora agreed.
"Christ," breathed Ted. Harry Potter was- what? Fifteen? Sixteen? And Death Eaters might attack him in his bedroom? Poor boy. Dora liked him and said he was quite a laugh, but he'd been through an extraordinary amount for one so young.
"I'm not saying it's likely, but Harry being there might make Hogwarts a focal-point for an attack or gathering," Dora rattled off.
"Where's Mad-Eye in all this?" Andromeda asked.
"He's staying in London. I can cope without him, you know," Dora answered testily.
"I know, but after…"
"Mum, I'll be fine,"
She didn't look fine. She looked sullen and frightened. Ted didn't like the idea of her going away to Scotland for a year, even if she'd be staying in Hogsmeade. She'd be away from him and Andromeda, and Kingsley and Mad-Eye and the Order and all her friends. Ted reckoned she needed her friends.
Later, once Dromeda had left to play Bridge, he prompted gently, "I'm worried about you, sweetheart,"
Dora folded her arms across her chest and didn't say anything.
"Come on, talk to me. Is it still Sirius?"
She nodded and blurted, "I ruined everything. He was in prison for so long and he'd only just his life back. He hadn't duelled for twelve years so I was supposed to protect him, and I didn't, and he died. He had loads more to do, and Harry needs him, and it's my fault he isn't here. Mum's angry at me, and I couldn't even look Harry in the face at the Burrow, and Remus has gone away,"
She pushed her face into her knees.
"Nobody's angry at you," Ted attempted to reassure her, "Your mum certainly isn't,"
"Come on, of course she is. She'd only just got him back, and it's my fault he's dead. I was supposed to protect him. Remus thinks it's all my fault, that's why he ended it,"
Her voice trembled and her words were blurring into each other.
"Remus who?" Ted asked, "What?"
"Lupin. He's Sirius' best friend and we were together, and he thinks it's my fault because it is all my fault," she mumbled, and tears spilled down her face.
"Did he tell you that?" Ted barked sharply.
"No," Dora admitted.
"Well then, that's just what you're telling yourself, isn't it? Listen- nobody blames you,"
Dora didn't say anything, and Ted had a moment to take in that this Remus character was the boyfriend she was so upset about. Ted had a feeling he'd heard the name before.
"Lupin...Sirius's friend? From school?" he asked, fishing in his mind for the connection.
She nodded.
"You were together with him?"
She nodded. How much younger was Dora than Sirius, Ted tried to remember. Ten years? Fifteen? Crikey, that was quite an age gap, but Ted stopped himself blabbing anything out. Commenting on how old her boyfriend- well, ex-boyfriend- was would not help the situation. And there was something else familiar to Ted about the name- had he read in in the newspaper? The Prophet was guff these days but Ted and Dromeda still got it delivered, and read it with a heavy pinch of salt. Something perhaps about Lupin and Hagrid? Why Hagrid? Had Skeeter being prattling on about Dumbledore appointing dodgy staff? Hagrid was daft, but sweet and harmless, not at all like a- and then Ted remembered.
"Dora, he's a werewolf!"
That was the article in the Prophet; Remus Lupin had taught Defence Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts for a year, resigning when news leaked out that he was a werewolf. It had been all over the Prophet that Summer, and again a few months ago. A werewolf teaching school, around children- Ted and Andromeda had been stunned.
Dora lifted her face off her knees and said simply, "Yes. He is,"
Ted balked, shocked by both the confirmation and the casual way Dora had acknowledged it. Then he was hit by fury.
"What did he do to you?" Ted choked out, "Did he hurt you? Did he-"
"Dad-"
"Whatever happened, whatever he's done, we'll sort it. We'll tell Mad-Eye, he'll-"
"Dad, stop, stop. Yes, he's a werewolf and if you spent five minutes with him you'd know that he's been to hell and back because of it, and all it's done is made him kind,"
She was speaking rapidy and her words took a couple of seconds to sink in. When they did, Ted gaped at her.
"You'd like him, Dad," Dora continued, ignoring his astonishment, "He's dead clever and funny, he's a proper gentleman-"
"He's a werewolf!"
"I know!" she shouted, "I knew from the start, and Sirius knew from when they were kids. He's not what you're imagining, he gets really poorly around the full moon. He hates transforming, he wouldn't hurt anybody,"
"Apart from when he turns into a monster," Ted snapped. Rage was coming faster now- he was angry at Dora as well as this Remus character. What the hell was she doing, defending someone like him?
"Don't call him that! Don't ever call him that again!" Dora screeched, leaping to her feet. And then, suddenly, tears were spilling down her face again, harder and angrier than before, "He was four years old when he was bitten. Imagine that, four. You have no idea what life's been like for him,"
She threw herself back into the chair and gripped her face as she started to cry. Is this what the werewolf's done to her? Ted thought, Turned her into hysteric?
There was a moment of quiet, in which the only sound was Dora's sobbing. Ted counted to five, then ten, and swallowed to stop himself shouting. They weren't going to get anywhere if she was crying and shrieking and he was yelling at her.
"Okay, let's calm down for a minute," he suggested out loud, to himself as well as his daughter.
"So you can tell me I'm being stupid 'cos he's too dangerous," Dora mumbled bitterly. She moved her hands away from her face, pinned him with a stare and declared, "I love him, Dad. I love him and nothing you say is going to change that,"
Ted glanced around, aghast, unable to look at his daughter. How could she be talking like that about a werewolf? Ted swallowed and tried to push that question from his mind and concentrate on the present logistics: "Where is he now?"
"I told you, he's had to go away,"
"Where?"
"Order stuff,"
"When's he coming back?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything about it, and I'm worried to death about him," she said, half-sob half-growl.
"I can tell," said Ted, trying to sound patient.
"It's not what it sounds like," she promised, "I know he's older and he's a werewolf, but he isn't taking advantage or anything. God knows we didn't expect this to happen, and all he's tried to do all along is the right thing. That's why he went away,"
And got his filthy werewolf paws off my daughter, Ted thought.
"I'll show you, I'll show you we were happy," Dora told him. She jumped to her feet again and grabbed her coat from where she'd left it hanging on the door. She rummaged in the pockets, took out her wallet, extracted a small crumpled piece of card and handed it to Ted.
"See?"
It was a photograph. Dora was sitting at a table with her elbow leaning on the narrow shoulder of the man sitting beside her. Ted vaguely recognised his curly hair and his sticking-out ears from the boy Sirius had brought over to their house a couple of times (knowing that he was a werewolf! If he was alive Ted would yell at Sirius for betraying their trust like that. But Sirius was dead and Ted would never roll his eyes at him or tell him off, or act as a father to his wife's cousin, ever again), but the man in the photo looked much older. Of course he was, fifteen years almost, but his hair was grey and his face was lined and he looked far too exhausted for a man in his thirties. If Ted hadn't known, he'd have guessed that the man was his own age or older. The Dora in the photo was eyeing him with amusement and awe, like Ted's seen her sometimes look at Mad-Eye when the Auror's back's turned. But there was something else in her expression in the photo when she looked at the curly-haired man. Adoration. Fixation. She leaned over and smushed a kiss to his cheek. The man pulled a face and pushed her off him playfully. Then he winked.
Ted looked up at his daughter. She was crying again, and crossly wiping the tears away with her fist.
"We were really happy, Dad," she said.
Ted owled Mad-Eye. Mad-Eye would be able to tell him everything. Mad-Eye wanted what was best for her. Mad-Eye would know what to do. They met in a crumbling bar on the corner of Knockturn Alley. Moody claimed his reply owl that he didn't have much time (he never did), so Ted got there early, and waited for the old Auror to hobble in.
"Mad-Eye, good to see you," Ted said once Moody arrived and interrogated him to confirm that Ted wasn't an imposter.
Moody regarded him with his whizzing eye. "Ted,"
"How are you? You're looking well," said Ted, inanely.
"Cut to the chase, I don't have time for chit-chat," Moody told him bluntly. He shook Ted's hand for a split-second before letting go.
"My daughter and Remus Lupin," Ted began carefully.
To Ted's surprise, Moody nodded thoughtfully. "Ah," he said.
"Did you know about them?"
"Yeah," Mad-Eye grunted.
"And?"
"And what, Ted?"
"What about them? What the hell's gone on? What's he like?" Ted demanded. He wanted answers, but he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to hear.
"Lupin? Nice boy. Things haven't been easy for him,"
Ted gave him go on look.
"Wise. He talked sense into Sirius, if that was possible. He reckons he's a bit intellectual if you ask me," Mad-Eye shrugged, "He's good at following orders. Was in the Order the first time around so he knows what he's doing,"
"He isn't- she says he isn't, you know," Ted hesitated, "Violent?"
"For Camelot's sake, of course not. Is that what you've been thinking? He isn't like that. Not all of them are,"
The patrionising tone in Mad-Eye's voice made Ted want to snarl at him. Instead, he sipped his beer and asked, "What happened?"
"No use asking me. I've got other things on my plate to worry about," Moody grunted. He rubbed a hand over his battered face and sighed, "They kept it very quiet. I don't reckon he wanted her to tell me,"
"But she did?"
She told you and not me? Ted thought sadly.
"Yes," said Moody.
"She's really upset about it," Ted murmured.
"Hmmph,"
"I don't think it ended well,"
"I can't tell you where he is, if that's what you're asking," Mad-Eye stated.
Ted didn't know what to say to that.
"There's not a lot I can tell you, apart from that he's a good man and your daughter isn't an idiot,"
"No, of course not," Ted mumbled.
"Well. Goodbye," said Moody abruptly. He got to his feet and stumped away.
The old Auror was right. Ted's daughter wasn't stupid. But she also wasn't the type to get hysterical about boyfriends. She wasn't a miserable person, but she'd been like this for two months now. Perhaps Ted didn't know her at all. That evening, as Andromeda walked through the front door, asked him their security questions, and pecked him on the cheek, Ted couldn't help but remember Cygnus. Was this how Dromeda's father had felt about Ted himself all those years ago? But blood beliefs were ridiculous and dated and had no ground in truth. Werewolves were dangerous. It wasn't prejudice or superstition, it was fact. Even when not transformed they were feral and savage. But Lupin had been Sirius' friend- but look at how reckless Sirius was, Ted thought- yes, but he wasn't stupid- no, he was drawn to danger- danger, not darkness- but- but Sirius was gone.
"Ted?" called Dromeda from the kitchen, "I asked if you wanted a tea?"
"No, thanks," he replied. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Lupin had been like when he'd come over with Sirius when they were younger. Ted didn't have a good memory for things like that, and while he could picture the Lupin boy being here, he couldn't remember anything he'd said or done. Which, Ted acknowledged, confirmed that Lupin hadn't said or done or anything werewolf-like.
Andromeda stuck her head around the door. "Something's bothering you, I can tell,"
"Just thinking about Snape teaching Defence at Hogwarts," Ted lied. He'd always hated lying to Andromeda.
"Why are you thinking about that?"
"Wondering whether Dora'll bump into him. He never liked her,"
"As far as I'm aware he doesn't like anybody," Dromeda pointed out, leaning on the doorframe, "She sees him at Order meetings and it's all alright. And it's not like you to fret?"
She was right, it wasn't. But now, Ted thought dejectedly, it seemed that there were a great number of things to fret about.
Christmas was a gloomy affair. They went to Ted's brother Bobby as usual, where Dora usually entertained Bobby's kids by messing with her nose and hair. But this year when little Megan demanded the game the kids called Dora's Faces, Ted's daughter shrugged, said, "Sorry, not this year," and sipped her Buck's fizz dejectedly.
After Christmas Dinner, she volunteered to do the washing up. Since that had never happened in living memory, Ted suspected it was an excuse to get away from everybody.
"I don't know what's wrong with her," Dromeda said, back at home that evening after Dora had slunk off to bed, "It's been nearly half a year. Merlin knows I'm upset about Sirius, but..."
She looked at Ted, expecting an answer. He didn't know what to tell her. She's heartbroken over her significantly older werewolf ex-boyfriend would not go down well with Andromeda.
"You don't suppose she's ill, do you?" Dromeda suggested suddenly.
"Don't be daft. She passed her Ministry medical in April,"
"That was before this happened. I should write to Mad-Eye..."
Ted winced. "Mad-Eye would have told us if there was something to worry about," he insisted, unsure if this counted as a lie.
"Of course there's something to worry about!" Dromeda snapped, "This isn't her, and it's been months now. It's all happening again, it's started all over again,"
"What?"
"The war!" Andromeda shouted.
"This time's different,"
"Different because our daughter's on the front line. She's nearly died already-" Dromeda caught herself mid-sentence, realising something, "Do you reckon that's what this is about? Bella?"
"I don't know," said Ted. He didn't like to think about Bellatrix Lestrange, and he found it disturbing that after all these years and everything she'd done, Andromeda still called her "Bella" and referred to her as her sister.
"Yes you do, Ted, you do know. She wants us all dead," Dromeda insisted. She'd always stated the truth bluntly, however much nobody else wanted to hear it. Andromeda hated denial.
Dromeda shut her eyes, leaned her head back against the wall and held her hand out for Ted to grasp onto. He did.
"I can't do this," she breathed, shaking, "I can't do this all over again".
Dad,
Sorry for being such a misery-guts over Christmas. R was at the Ws and M invited me to come over, but I said no, but I kept thinking about him. I promise he isn't dangerous. Please believe me. I miss him so much. M says he misses me too which makes it worse. To be honest I feel totally terrible at the moment. As if that wasn't blindingly obvious. I'm very worried about him. Please don't worry about me. I'm enclosing a card for Megan and the boys to say sorry for being so boring on Christmas Day. Please can you send it to them through the Muggle post, because there isn't a postbox up here, or anywhere to buy stamps.
Lots of love
Dora xx.
Winter slid into Spring. Frost on the ground melted, disappeared for a few weeks, then returned. Manchester City stayed top of the league, but the Ballycastle Bats lost three matches in a row, which meant that Ted just about broke even on his bets. One of Andromeda's Muggle-born colleagues received a Stinksap envelope and had to spend a day in St Mungo's. Ted tried repeatedly to explain to Andromeda the workings of the upcoming Muggle election. The oldest of the Macmillan's granddaughters announced she was remarrying a Ghanaian gold-dealer. One of Arthur Weasley's sons was poisoned. According to Dora, Harry Potter saved his life.
"With a Beozor," she explained, "Shoved it in his gob, Ron was lucky to survive,"
She was picking at her food on the Sunday night of a weekend visit home in April. She looked the same as when Ted had last seen her a month prior. He was starting to wonder if the brown hair was a permanent fixture. He missed the pink.
"And this was in Horace Slughorn's office?" Dromeda asked.
Dora nodded. The story seemed very strange to Ted, but strange things were always happening to the Weasleys and Harry Potter.
Andromeda must have been thinking the same thing because she ejaculated, "Is Potter their saviour or their bad luck charm?"
Dora looked up sharply. "Mum,"
"He attracts danger, doesn't he? I'm sure he's a nice boy, but he's putting Molly Weasley to a lot of effort,"
"Molly likes going to effort. She's been good to me," Dora responded. Ted suspected that he heard a jab at Andromeda in this proclamation.
"Slughorn's teaching Potions again?" he said loudly, trying to steer the subject away from an argument, "How's that going?"
"Alright, I've heard," said Dora, "It's been more than half a year now. Can't be worse than Snape, can he?"
Last year, Ted thought sadly, she'd have asked him and Dromeda both about what Slughorn had been like when he'd taught them. She'd have been keen for funny stories and gossip about the Hogwarts newcomer. Now, she looked back down at her plate and continued jabbing aimlessly at her Yorkshire pudding.
"No," agreed Ted, and the three of them lapsed into silence. Ted could feel Andromeda's irritated, nonplussed gaze on him but he ignored it- there was nothing he could say to her in front of Dora that would help the situation, and so the only sound for a few minutes was their chewing and the scrape of cutlery. Quiet was unusual in this house, and it made Ted uneasy.
"Nymphadora, are you going to eat that or not?" demanded Andromeda abruptly.
Dora looked up, and it was clear from her expression that she hadn't given her dinner any consideration. "Err, yeah," she muttered.
Most of the habits and rules from Dromeda's childhood had faded since she eloped with Ted twenty-six years ago, but her stickling for table manners always popped up when she was irritated. Ted had stayed at home to look after Dora when she was small, but on the occasions it had been Andromeda's turn to run dinnertime, she'd constantly nag their daughter to sit up straight, keep her elbows off the table, clear her plate, don't talk with her mouth full, don't eat with her mouth open. These rules always snuck back in when Dromeda was cross.
"It's alright," said Ted quickly, "We can wrap it in foil and you can heat it up tomorrow if you want,"
"Alright. Thanks," said Dora, but it was clear she wasn't listening.
Ted shot a please shut up look at Andromeda. His wife rarely did anything he asked her too, but she seemed to break tradition this time and she didn't speak again until they were clearing up the plates. This time, Dromeda offered to wash up, and Ted was grateful that she'd taken the hint to avoid upsetting Dora further. Although to be fair, thought Ted, Andromeda hadn't done anything intentionally to distress their daughter. It was Dora who was unexpectedly sensitive and easily upset.
"You haven't heard from him, then?" Ted said, sitting down beside her on the rickety old sofa while Andromeda put the plates away next-door. He might as well address the elephant, or the werewolf, in the room.
"No, I have," Dora said.
Ted hadn't been expecting that. "Right,"
"He's come back. He wasn't getting anywhere with- with where he was, so Dumbledore ordered him home. Fat lot of good it is though- he looks like crap, he's beating himself up because he didn't get everything Dumbledore wanted done, and he doesn't want to talk to me,"
Ted felt relieved that Lupin was back from wherever he'd been. That was some sort of improvement, and at least Dora knew where he was. "Have you spoken to him?" Ted asked.
"Yeah. Total humiliation. I got angry at him, and he doesn't get angry so I looked like an idiot,"
"But you know he's safe," Ted suggested.
Dora didn't reply. Ted hated her being silent like this. He tried a different tack. It was something he'd been ruminating on since he'd spoken to Mad-Eye.
"Listen, I've been thinking," Ted admitted, considering how to word this next sentence, "I've been wondering the last few months, about Hagrid and things. And I've read a about werewolves. And I- I want you to know that I'm okay with this. With what he is. I can't pretend I'm happy about it, and it's certainly not what I'd choose for you, but if he's been here before and we didn't even know that he was a….honestly, if you're this unhappy now, he must have made you very happy before. And-"
The words if you're happy I'm happy died in Ted's throat. He couldn't say something as sentimental as that. He compromised with, "And I want you to be happy". I want my daughter back, and if her loving a werewolf if what it takes, then that's what it takes. It hadn't been easy to decide, and it felt strange to confirm it out loud. Ted wasn't completely sure if he meant it.
Ted had hoped that his acceptance would cheer Dora up. It didn't. She nodded thoughtfully, flicked her brown hair out of her face and sighed, "Thanks, Dad. But it doesn't make any difference".
