The grand parlor in Andromeda's childhood home was adorned with large, leafy arrangements and hundreds of live fairies humming around fluffy blooms, making them sparkle in the morning light. Delicate, spongy tea cakes and savory tarts were arranged in concentric, towering circles, and newly popped opened of fine wines poured themselves into glasses, which floated toward arriving guests.

The scent of freshly blossoming flowers overwhelmed Andromeda upon her entrance. Nymphadora, having never seen the space so lavishly decorated, audibly gasped at the scene before her.

"Mama, was it like this for you?"

"Not quite," replied Andromeda. "I was married in the autumn season. It wasn't so green or bright."

She decided not to tell her daughter that her own bridal shower began and ended in terrified tears, as it was the day she'd learned she was pregnant with one man's child while preparing to marry another.

"Let's see your grandmother, my love."

Nymphadora pouted, her gaze traveling to the towers of food. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, and then you can carefully enjoy all the treats. Your grandmama ordered the fabric for the robes you're wearing today and they stain easily."

It was enough to placate her, so Andromeda led the way to find her mother, Irma, who was surrounded by several generations of Black witches. Irma was flanked on her left by Violetta, Andromeda's irritable, paternal grandmother. On Irma's right sat Ursula, Andromeda's centenarian great-grandmother. Walburga and Druella were already seated and enjoying tea, with Bellatrix and Narcissa making small talk with their Great Aunt Cassie.

"If it isn't my youngest," Irma said, raising a critical brow at Andromeda. "You're late."

The pronouncement stopped all conversation in the parlor. Andromeda held her head high and took Nymphadora's hand. "Mother, I told you I would be late. We were meeting with the Bulstrodes today."

Violetta's usual scowl momentarily disappeared. "My cousin's granddaughter? The frumpy one—Eunice?"

"I wouldn't call her frumpy, Granny Vi," Andromeda said, sighing as Bellatrix and Narcissa snickered. "Miss Eunice likes simpler things and is a little shy, but she's perfectly lovely just the way she is."

"Eunie's nice!" Nymphadora chirped. "She helped me with my Transfiguration homework."

Irma's disapproving gaze moved from Andromeda to Nymphadora and back to Andromeda. "Still speaking out of turn, I see."

"Oh, er, I'm sorry, Grandmama. I didn't mean to—"

"Darling," Andromeda warned softly. Nymphadora's face fell and she quieted, pouting. Irma scrutinized them and Andromeda felt like she was her daughter's age, forever feeling she would never be good enough. "Mother, I apologize for our tardiness. As I'm sure you'll be informing Bellatrix, her new husband will be her primary duty from the moment she becomes Mrs. Lestrange. In future, I will ensure that my primary set of familial expectations will not interfere with my secondary ones."

She guided Nymphadora to an open settee, taking pleasure in the way her mother glowered at her, while Violetta and Ursula sneered at Irma's expense.

"Now that everyone is here," said Irma, glaring daggers at Andromeda, and turning to face Bellatrix. "Our dear Bella . . . it is your last week as Miss Black. You won't share our surname for much longer, but you will always be one of us."

Andromeda took her daughter's hand; similar words were spoken by Violetta at her bridal shower. Bellatrix, glowing and radiant in the golden sunlight, was all confidence and ease ahead of her upcoming marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Your first duty will be to your husband, obviously," Irma went on, ignoring Andromeda's smirk, "but never forget that you are a Black. You will always represent our noble and most ancient line."

"Yes, Grandmama," Bellatrix drawled, inspecting her pointed fingernails.

"Which means," said Druella, commanding her eldest daughter's attention, "that we wouldn't want to see a little Lestrange any sooner than Christmas, now would we?"

Bellatrix laughed in the same, polite way as her mother did. "Mother, that would be impossible. You know I haven't had a minute alone with Rodolphus since we were engaged last summer."

"That's what we thought with little Annie, now wasn't it?" Druella shifted to face Andromeda, who felt a cold, churning sensation in her stomach, but refused to rise to her sister-in-law's jab. "She couldn't wait to have her husband."

"Mama?" Nymphadora nudged Andromeda, her hair greying in her confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Nymphadora was born early," Andromeda asserted. "She was barely six pounds."

Druella rolled her eyes as the other witches began murmuring among themselves.

"That's enough speculation, Druella," Walburga snapped. "My sister did nothing wrong. Just because you had to throw yourself at my brother weeks before doesn't mean—"

"Burgie," Andromeda cautioned, staring down at a fully silver haired Nymphadora and a reddening Druella, "she's not worth it."

"Hush!" the elderly Ursula said, harrumphing and smacking her cane on the floor. "I ought to have your fathers knock sense into all of you! If my Phineas were alive, he'd have put you all in chains. What a disgrace!"

All the women quieted down at once, engrossing themselves in their tea and biscuits. Andromeda squeezed Nymphadora's hand to reassure her, and pressed a quick kiss to the crown of her head.

"Mother," Violetta said, after an awkward pause, "what wisdom would you like to pass onto your great-great-granddaughter?"

Ursula narrowed her beady eyes at Bellatrix. "You will outlive him," she said, pointing a leathery finger at Bellatrix. "You can have your fun when he dies. Many a young wizard will be delighted to spend an afternoon with you when you get lonely." A smug smile graced Ursula's lined, liver-spotted face as Violetta and Irma gaped, horrified.

Andromeda pressed her lips together hard to keep from giggling. The younger witches shook with quiet laughter, with the exception of Nymphadora, who seemed to struggle with Ursula's suggestion.

"Why don't you get us something to eat?" Andromeda suggested to her daughter. Nymphadora eagerly stood, nearly tripping over her own feet, and Andromeda righted her before sending her off.

"It's almost your turn, Annie," Burgie whispered. Their great-aunt Lysandra was giving Bellatrix ideas for her wedding night ('there's nothing wrong with a subtle Engorgio ') and Andromeda shuddered, hoping Bella wouldn't take that particular piece of advice, and that Nymphadora was too absorbed in loading her plate to listen.

"Burgie, you?" Irma said, turning to the daughter in question.

"Do whatever it takes to give him a son," Walburga said instantly. "Every man wants a strong, healthy son to pass his name and legacy onto. Every woman wants a son to be the family leader, to be the example for his sisters and cousins. I'll write to you tonight with every potion I brewed to ensure I gave birth to not one—but two —handsome, talented wizards!"

Andromeda coughed politely to cover her incredulous splutter at Walburga's remark and the other witches' modest applause. She had never wanted a son and cried tears of relief when Nymphadora was born. It was true that Byron preferred his sons, but they had given her nothing but trouble since the day she became their stepmother. As Andromeda thought of her father, uncles, brother, and nephews, she couldn't fathom how any of their mothers found true joy in raising them.

A flash of pain in Andromeda's thigh made her jump.

"Annie," said Walburga, putting her wand away, "it's your turn."

Nymphadora had returned with a plateful of miniature tarts and delicate sponge cakes and looked up at Andromeda with interest.

"My advice for you, Bella," she began, "is to find your own happiness in your marriage. Our wizards can be busy and they will take time for their vaults, their sons, and their friends—give yourself time to do the same. Your marriage will be as happy as you are."

"Remember, dear, nothing will make you happier than a son," Walburga said. "Annie was lucky. She got two boys when she married Byron and didn't have to worry about making another one."

"I believe she understands, Burgie," Irma sighed, her eyes briefly flickering towards Nymphadora. "Callidora, you go on next."

While the others continued sharing their wisdom with Bellatrix, Nymphadora fidgeted. As another relative, Charis, began dispensing more wedding night advice, Andromeda felt her daughter had had enough. She met her mother's gaze, and to her surprise, Irma nodded, giving Andromeda the ability to step away from the parlor with Nymphadora.

"Why don't we go to the kitchen to see if Chester will make us some hot chocolate?" Andromeda asked, once they were out of earshot of the parlor.

Nymphadora stayed suspiciously quiet until they got to the big, cozy kitchen. Chester, Pollux and Irma's third oldest elf, cheerfully agreed to make the hot chocolates; growing up, he had been Andromeda's favorite, and by the way the elf had always doted on Nymphadora, she suspected the feeling was mutual.

"Is Miss Nymphadora needing her marshmallows?" asked Chester, placing a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front her.

"Yes please, and thank you, Chester." Nymphadora mustered a weak smile and pushed her mousy brown hair behind her ears.

"You know, I was about your age when I attended your Auntie Burgie's bridal shower," Andromeda said, observing her daughter, "my aunt Lycoris was still alive and she thought it would be amusing to test my magic." At this, Nymphadora looked up, her curiosity piqued. "Auntie Lycoris transfigured my teacup into this dreadful spider with pincers and had it pinch me. Do you know what I did?"

Nymphadora shook her head. She was on the edge of her seat and hadn't touched her hot chocolate.

"I was so terrified, I had a burst of accidental magic and the spider flew across the room," Andromeda explained, as her daughter gasped. "Right onto Auntie Lycoris's face—and she almost lost her right eye when the pincers grew to three times their size. I believe my mother was too proud of me to be furious."

"Was she okay?" asked Nymphadora. "Your Auntie Lycoris?"

"She lived to tell the tale." Andromeda smiled, seeing that Nymphadora was finally drinking her hot chocolate, which left a foamy mustache along her upper lip. "Though her mouth never did return to its proper shape, so I called her 'Lopsided Lycoris' for the rest of her life."

Nymphadora giggled into her drink. "Mama, how come you never told me before?"

"Some stories are better left unsaid until the right moment."

Andromeda conjured a tissue and wiped the foam off her daughter's face. Nymphadora grew quiet again and fiddled with one of the marshmallows in her mug.

"Quite the afternoon we've had," Andromeda murmured. "Don't you think?"

Nymphadora shrugged and ate another marshmallow. "Do you ever wish I was a boy instead of a girl?"

"Never."

"Never?"

"Nymphadora, my love, the day you were born was the happiest day of my life. I was relieved you were a girl. I had always wanted a daughter, and there you were, perfect, beautiful, and colorful. You were my dream come true."

"Then how come everyone else likes boys better?"

Andromeda traced her finger around the rim of her mug. "Boys pass on their father's last names. Boys have different opportunities than girls—in certain ways, of course—but they also have different expectations. Wizards from our family prefer sons to keep the ancient Black name alive, but wizards can't survive without witches. They need us and we need them."

"When I get married some day . . . will my husband be upset with me if I don't have a baby boy?"

Nymphadora's earnest, innocent question crushed a little piece of Andromeda's heart. She'd had the same question when she was a girl, and her mother had given the worst answer possible.

If you don't give him at least one son, he won't love you anymore.

"Not if he's a good man and a good husband," Andromeda replied, taking Nymphadora's small hand in hers. "I will help you find someone good. I promise."

What Andromeda hoped to be reassuring words didn't seem to make a difference. Nymphadora smiled thinly and returned to her hot chocolate, her shoulders hunching forward as she took another sip.

"Is there something else on your mind?"

Nymphadora sighed. "Why did Auntie Druella care when I was born?"

"Well—" Andromeda pressed her lips together, contemplating how difficult it would be to convince Chester to spike Druella's tea with a strong laxative for her impetuous remarks. "—you remember we had that chat in December—where babies come from?"

"Uh-huh," Nymphadora said, unsure.

"I told you it takes about nine months for a baby to be born. Sometimes, even though a witch and a wizard should wait until they are married to make love, they decide not to wait. A baby might be made, but if it's much earlier than the wedding—"

"Then everyone knows they—" Nymphadora made a face. She sat for a moment, silent, and then her eyes flew open. "Mama, did that happen to you? Did you and Father—"

"No, no," Andromeda replied at once. "As I said, you were born early and you were born small. There's no need for you to worry—and besides, even if you were conceived beforehand, would it matter now?"

"I suppose not," Nymphadora conceded. "But why did Auntie Druella say those things if it doesn't matter?"

"Your aunt is just the type of person who likes to raise a fuss over nothing. Some people are like that."

"Well, it's not very nice."

"No, it isn't," Andromeda agreed. "However, she's part of our family . . . and speaking of which, they'll be opening the gifts by now. We ought to be getting back."

"No, Mama, let's stay here. The party's boring."

"This is what we'll do—we'll stay until all the gifts are open, and when the ladies start talking again, we can say we're tired and we'll leave."

"And go home?"

Andromeda shook her head. "I've got an idea. How would you like to see a flower show?"

Nymphadora's grin settled the rest of the day's plans.

Springtime in Covent Garden was one of Andromeda's guiltiest pleasures. The Muggles had impeccable taste in floral arrangements, despite lacking magic, and the sculptures they could make without wands always left her in awe. She usually went to the flower show alone, and had planned to go the next day, while Nymphadora visited her friend Iris, but it felt like the right time to share another part of her life with her daughter.

"It's like the school greenhouses here, but prettier!" Nymphadora said, her eyes darting around the colorful arrangements. She stuck her face in a nearby bouquet and took a deep breath. "What are these called?"

"Gardenia," a portly gardener replied. "My bird loves 'em."

"Mama, they're beautiful." Nymphadora took another whiff and sighed contently. "This is much better than Bella's stupid shower."

The gardener chuckled and pulled out a flower from the bouquet. He trimmed the stem and tucked it behind Nymphadora's ear.

"Thank you, Mr. Gardener!" Nymphadora grinned and Andromeda found a Muggle coin in her pocket. The gardener's eyes widened when he saw the value, but Andromeda smiled and insisted he keep it all.

They walked through the busy market, admiring the artful arrangements and identifying flowers together. This year, the Muggles had a display of sculptures in the shape of insects; a butterfly made of roses caught Nymphadora's interest, so they lingered there to see how it was constructed.

Andromeda felt relaxed in her dress; just before they'd arrived, she'd transfigured their robes to simple, but matching Muggle dresses. Nymphadora was delighted with the modern style, and Andromeda quietly admitted it was becoming on both of them. Everything was going swimmingly until she heard an unmistakable voice.

"I love roses," said a woman, replying to the familiar voice, "but carnations will be more affordable. What do you think?"

"If you like them, I like them," replied Ted, kissing the woman's cheek.

With Nymphadora preoccupied by the next sculpture—a dragonfly—Andromeda craned her neck, knowing she would regret it later. She simply had to know what Ted's fiancée looked like.

Andromeda scrutinized the woman standing next to Ted, holding his hand and giggling into his ear. She had long, sleek blonde hair that was parted in the middle and framed her face with big, loose curls. She had bright green eyes that stood out against her pale skin, and a smattering of golden freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. She wore a deep blue skirt that reached her knobby knees and a collared, floral blouse, which was accented by a scarf tied around her neck. She was beautiful, in a plain, country sort of way, and she carried herself with ease that was neither practiced nor forced.

How Andromeda wished to strangle the woman with her scarf, and hex Ted's bollocks so he could never use them again.

"Mama, isn't that—"

"Nymphadora, no!"

"Mr. Ted?" Nymphadora presented herself in front of Ted, whose jaw went slack the moment he recognized her.

"D-D-Dora," he stuttered. "Where is your—"

"I'm here," announced Andromeda, taking Nymphadora firmly by the shoulder.

"I thought you said you'd be busy," Ted said, his gaze flitting down briefly to Nymphadora.

"I was—I am— "

"We were just at my cousin Bella's bridal shower," said Nymphadora. "Mama said we could leave early and see the flowers here."

Ted's blue eyes flashed with anger. "So you were able to make time—"

"Edward?" The woman next to him spoke, squeezing his hand. "Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?"

Ted closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them, the anger was gone, replaced by a façade of joviality. "Millie," he said, "this is Andromeda. We trained together."

"You did?" Nymphadora scrunched her nose up in confusion. "You were at Hog—"

"And this charming young lady is Dora," Ted said, speaking over Nymphadora, his voice rising in his obvious distress. "Andromeda, Dora, this is Millie Collins, my fiancée."

"It's lovely to meet you," said Millie. "I've never met any of Edward's work friends! I'd had no idea the service was so secretive!"

"What service?" Nymphadora asked, her head tilting with her increasing puzzlement, while Andromeda wanted to Disapparate on the spot.

Millie winked exaggeratedly at Nymphadora. "Exactly!"

Andromeda wondered if strangulation was too gentle a death for the abominably cheerful woman.

"Andromeda—" Ted's lips were tight and his shoulders were tensed. "Could I have a private word with you? About those classified documents I sent you?"

"I'm not leaving my daughter alone," Andromeda retorted. Ted clenched his jaw and his free hand became a fist. Andromeda's hand twitched toward the knife around her thigh when Millie cleared her throat.

"I'll watch her!" Millie offered, stepping forward and letting go of Ted's other hand. "I love children. I'm a primary teacher. I so look forward to having my own someday . . ." She grinned soppily at Ted, who gave her a tight smile in return.

"Er—" Nymphadora's eyes grew wide. "I'm almost 12?"

"And never too old to make a new friend!" Millie bent down and beamed. Nymphadora had the good sense to back away, swelling Andromeda's heart with pride.

Ted exhaled deeply. "You know what? I'll send you a facsimile on Monday—my questions can wait. Millie and I should be going."

"I look forward to your message," Andromeda replied coolly, taking her daughter's hand. "Goodbye."

"It was nice to meet—"

Andromeda turned around halfway through Millie's merry send-off. No Muggle had ever come so close to becoming another Black family victim.