A/N: Content warning: in this chapter you'll find physical, emotional, and psychological abuse of a minor. It isn't graphic or overly violent, but it's still abuse.

A letter was waiting for Andromeda when she brought Nymphadora home from the Macmillans'. The marigold-shaped parchment was on her vanity, innocent-looking as any bright bloom, but the sight of it made her want to cry.

Andromeda's heart was barely capable of taking any more pain. She was holding herself by a thread, and it was inhumane of Ted to continue shattering what she tried stitching back together. Wasn't it enough that he would get to be happy in his marriage and give another woman everything Andromeda ever wanted? Wasn't it enough that he continued to prove himself to be a good father, the kind of father Nymphadora deserved and Andromeda had always wanted for her child?

Wasn't it enough that Andromeda continued to suffer in silence?

A tear rolled down her cheek as she unfolded the letter. She took a seat in an armchair by the fire and clung to the heat that warmed her perpetually too-cold room.

A-

Please accept my apologies for my behavior today. You were right. My child comes first.

I was impressed with your plan for the fund. It will do a lot of good for the children, and I'm eager to see my daughter involved with it. Thank you for the opportunity.

I don't think I told you, but I carry my daughter's photograph with me everywhere I go. I wish I could spend more time with her and know what she was up to, but she's a growing girl and I understand she needs her space. It's hard not to see her the way she is in her photographs. I'm sure you feel the same and wish you could hear more from your daughter while she's away at school. I know I would.

Happy Easter to you and yours.

-T.

Andromeda set the letter down and closed her eyes. Ted's apology meant nothing to her. It was too little, too late; he'd changed and so had she. The apologies were empty when it meant that things between them would never be the same (even though she knew they couldn't be, not after she had seen the bright future he had with another woman).

Though she had every right to deny him updates on Nymphadora's progress at school, Andromeda could give in. It might be enough to placate Ted and keep him from doing anything rash. It would be easy enough to duplicate a few of her letters and send them to Ted, as evidence of her happiness and well-being.

With a swish of her wand, the stack of Andromeda's latest correspondence landed neatly at her feet. She bent down, thumbed through the letters, and found Nymphadora's latest message, sent a week before the Easter holidays.

Dear Mama,

Thank you! Iris says she's going to show me her favorite place in the forest by her house! I know Bella's wedding is going to be fun but Iris says that magical creatures live in the forest and I'm very excited to see what they are! What if she has a dragon?!

Classes are good. I got an O on my last Herbology essay. Professor Sprout says I know a lot about plants and I told her that your greenhouses have everything in them. Can you send me a picture so I can show her?

Sirius and his friends played another prank. They stole bedpans from the infirmary and wore them as hats during dinner. I think they forgot that people poo inside of them.

Hufflepuff almost beat Slytherin in Quidditch. I don't like it when Hufflepuff loses but Al is really good and he blocked a lot of goals. Do you know if he's going to be trying out for a professional team? I almost never see him since he's on the Quidditch pitch or with his friends.

Otto is good too. He's getting fat because he likes to come with me when I go to the kitchens with my friends. The elves there are just like Tippy and Goldie and they love him! I'm going to make a kitty obstacle course this summer so Otto gets back in shape.

I'll see you soon!

Love,

Your daughter, Dora.

The letter was a perfect example of Nymphadora's personality, and better yet, it would show Ted how eager she was to see her friend over the Easter holidays.

Andromeda tapped her wand on the letter and murmured " Geminio." The letter duplicated itself instantly and Andromeda folded the extra copy to send to Ted. She wrote a quick message of her own, offering him an olive branch in the form of occasional letters from Nymphadora, and sent them off with her trusted personal owl, Balthasar.

She would conquer this yet, and regain her strength against Ted as soon as her heart mended itself again.

Andromeda sat next to her husband in his study. Across from her sat her stepson, Malcolm, glaring at her mutinously; she rarely sat on this side of the desk, as Byron's true equal, but today she was sharing a task with her husband. She wished she could hold Byron's hand for the slightest bit of comfort, or to appear united in their efforts, but he was in no mood for such sentimentality.

"You can't be serious."

These words were the first out of Malcolm's twisted mouth upon reading the betrothal agreement he'd just been given.

"Miss Bulstrode comes with a generous dowry, a perfect pedigree, and a family history of producing healthy wizards," Byron replied calmly. "Not a single stone was overlooked in my investigation. She's everything a pureblood witch ought to be."

"You can't be serious," Malcolm repeated angrily, shoving the betrothal agreement back in his father's face. "She's a cow ."

"I am perfectly serious," Byron replied coolly, as Andromeda winced at his side, seeing Malcolm's face redden, "and you will not sway me. She will make a fine wife and you will accept this offer."

"She's hideous!" Malcolm roared. "How am I supposed to fuck that bitch—"

"That is enough coarse language, Malcolm. It has no place in front of your mother." Byron sat forward and wagged a finger at his son, whose scowl deepened at the mention of his 'mother'. "Nor is this a way to discuss a well-bred young woman."

Malcolm snarled and shoved the betrothal agreement further away. "The Flint girl . . . why can't I have her?"

Byron shook his head. "She is unsuitable, as she has an unsavory connection with a half-blood. I investigated those claims thoroughly. Miss Bulstrode has nothing but glowing reports from her peers, family, and professors—a spotless record."

As Malcolm's face turned puce, Andromeda felt her unease grow. "Byron, dear," she said softly, placing her hand on his arm. "Perhaps I can give you a few moments to discuss this, father-to-son? I'm afraid I'm somewhat overwhelmed."

"Now look what you've done, upsetting your mother like this," Byron growled at Malcolm, and then looked at Andromeda. "You may go. Our son needs a lesson in manners."

Malcolm's fingers twitched around his wand. Andromeda kissed Byron's cheek hurriedly and then stepped out, anxious to let the men fight it out.

She stopped as soon as she turned the corner to walk down the next corridor. A potted plant wasn't in its usual spot, and its leaves trembled. Eyeing the plant carefully, Andromeda noticed a glimmer of white among the greenery.

"Nymphadora," Andromeda scolded quietly, "what have I told you about eavesdropping?"

"Not to do it," Nymphadora replied glumly, removing herself from her hiding place.

Andromeda blinked, adjusting her eyes while her daughter unmorphed her features. It was remarkable work for the young Metamorphmagus. Her hair was choppy and deep green, with fine strands of bright green adding dimension to the leafy look. Her skin was patched in textured greens and browns; she had blended in with the branches, chameleon-like, and if Andromeda hadn't noticed the potted plant's new position, she would never have spotted her.

Andromeda would address the brilliant morphing later. For now, she had a daughter to discipline.

"Bilbo!" she called.

The oldest Travers elf, and Byron's personal favorite, popped into the corridor and bowed.

"Bilbo, Byron is in a meeting with Malcolm. Do not permit Nymphadora anywhere near the study or allow her to overhear their discussion," Andromeda ordered.

"Yes, Mistress," Bilbo said, bowing. He snapped his fingers and a faint haze of magic appeared around the study.

Before Andromeda could say anything to her daughter, another elf appeared in front of her.

"Mistress!' squeaked Goldie, bowing. "Mrs. Walla is needing you in the Floo! Very urgent, Mrs. Walla is!"

"Tell my sister I'll be there in a moment," Andromeda said, sighing and turning back to her daughter. "Nymphadora, we will discuss what you overheard later. Your aunt needs me for something, and while I'm sure it is nowhere near urgent, I need to address it. Don't try to go back to your father's study, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama, I understand," mumbled Nymphadora.

"Good—now go to your room or find something to entertain yourself, besides eavesdropping!"

Dora stood outside the morning room and watched her mother's figure retreat to the opposite side of the house. She glanced at the other side of the corridor. Bilbo stared at her, waiting for her to try to get past his magical boundaries, but she knew from experience that she would fail.

" Psst. "

Frowning, Dora turned around to look for the source of the sound.

" Psst ," the voice said. "Fifi!"

"Claudius?" Dora shuffled to the next room over, the library. There she found her older brother lounging on a sofa, looking bored.

"Who else would it be?" he drawled.

"A portrait?"

"Why would a portrait want to talk to you?"

Dora shrugged. "Sometimes they tell me to fix my hair."

Claudius exhaled forcefully and sat up. "What did you do this time, to get your mother's wand in a knot?"

"I was eavesdropping," Dora admitted. "Father, Mama, and Malcolm were talking about Miss Eunice."

"Were they?" Claudius's eyes gleamed with something like mirth, but it wasn't friendly. "What did they say?"

"I couldn't hear everything . . . and Mama said she'd tell me about it later."

"Or," Claudius said, smirking, "I could tell you myself."

"You know what Malcolm said about her?" Dora asked, tilting her head in confusion. "He said some . . . not very nice things."

"I'm sure I've heard it all, and you look confused, little Fifi."

"Well, er, he, erm . . ." Dora stammered, thinking of the cruel words that came out of Malcolm's mouth, and her mother's stern face when Dora's hiding place was discovered. ". . . Mama says I shouldn't gossip."

"It isn't gossip if everyone knows what it is," Claudius countered. "Let me guess—he doesn't want to marry her?"

Dora nodded and swallowed hard. "He says she's ugly and . . . and he doesn't know how he'll . . ."

How am I supposed to fuck that bitch?

The phrase sounded heartless and crass to Dora. She didn't know what the words meant together, but Malcolm had used two words her mother told her were among the most impolite. Claudius tapped his foot rapidly against the floor.

"Fifi, I haven't all day."

"Erm . . . he said . . . Malcolm said," Dora shuddered. "He said 'how am I supposed to 'eff' that 'b . . . word.'"

"Well, of course he doesn't know how he'll fuck her. No one wants to fuck her."

Claudius cackled and threw his head back on the sofa. Something twisted in Dora's stomach, seeing her brother take such joy from Malcolm's harsh words. She ran her fingers along the silken edge of a nearby armchair. She knew that the word was rude, but didn't know what it meant the way that Claudius or Malcolm used it.

Clearing his throat and wiping the last of his mirthful tears from his eyes, Claudius studied Dora's face. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" Claudius jeered. "Why would you? Hufflepuffs are idiots—"

"No, we're not!" Dora said hotly. "I know things! I know lots of things!"

Claudius raised a disbelieving brow at her. "So you know that fucking someone means having sex with them?"

"Uh- huh."

"And you know what sex is?"

"Yes," Dora replied more confidently. "Mama explained it to me before."

"Prove it," Claudius challenged. "What is it that you think you know about sex?"

"The, er, the . . ." Dora felt heat rise in her cheeks. She wouldn't let Claudius prove she was stupid. "The wizard . . . the man . . . has a p-p-penis," she said, closing her eyes tightly, unable to look her older brother in the eye. "It gets h-hard and goes inside the witch . . . the lady . . . and then . . . and then . . ."

"Go on," Claudius goaded.

"The wizard, erm, he kind of sneezes? And then if it's the right time, a baby happens when his sneezy stuff finds the lady's egg?"

Dora released a breath and opened one of her eyes. Claudius was chuckling and rolling his eyes. She balled her hands into fists and stomped her foot.

"Oh, don't be such a theatrical little thing," Claudius snorted. "You've got the gist of it. Now, answer me this . . . what does it take for the man's penis to get hard, Fifi?" Dora stuck her lower lip out, thinking hard.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Claudius sighed dramatically. "Because, you dolt, it answers the question of why my brother won't fuck that cow, or why any man with working eyes would refuse her."

Dora frowned and thought back to what her mother had said about love, marriage, and babies. "He has to love her," she offered, bouncing from one foot to the other. "The man and woman . . . they fall in love and make a baby."

"You believe that rubbish?" Claudius said scornfully. "No, Fifi, there's no need for love. If a man likes what he sees, he'll want to have sex. That's all it takes."

"But Mama said—"

"Your mother wants you to believe in romantic bullshit, but she lied to you," Claudius continued, inspecting his nails. "I wouldn't try to confront her about it, she'll just deny it."

"But—"

Claudius swung his legs across the sofa and sat up, snickering. "Do you really believe your mother was in love with my father—"

" Our father—"

"Whatever, doesn't matter. You think they love each other? That every time they fuck—"

" Eww !" Dora scrunched her eyes and covered her ears with her hands. " Stop!"

"Come off it, Fifi. It's time for you to grow up. The fact of the matter is, Malcolm won't have Bulstrode because she's an eyesore. How is he going to have a baby with her if he can't get it up? That's the whole point of this, you know, to make the next generation of Travers wizards. Not going to happen with that ugly bitch."

Dora sank into a chair and pouted. "That's not fair. Miss Eunice isn't ugly."

"It's not your opinion that matters. How the hell would you know, anyway, or have you gone sly yourself? You haven't got the cock and you don't know what you're talking about."

"But Mama—she said that people can fall in love after they get married," Dora continued, her voice faltering. "What if Malcolm and Miss Eunice fall in love? Then he'll want to . . . he'll want . . . to make a baby with her."

"Is that what your mother said happened to her?" Claudius demanded, sneering. "She fell in love with Father after they married?"

Dora twiddled her thumbs nervously. The only time her parents' marriage had been discussed in any depth was at Twilfitt and Tatting's. Andromeda hadn't said much about love, but it didn't seem like her parents didn't love each other. They were still married, after all, and she'd seen her mother kiss her father's cheek when she left his study.

"Y . . . es," Dora said slowly, "she said she fell in love with Father. She loves our family."

"She's a liar," Claudius scoffed. "Your mother married my father because her own filthy choices left her no other way out. Father was soft in the head to accept her at any price. She's no more in love with him than she's in love with me."

Dora's hair flared fiery red. "That's not true! Mama said she wanted to marry Father, and Father wanted to marry Mama because . . . because . . ." Claudius's jaw and mouth twitched as Dora struggled to think of how her father felt about her mother. Dora couldn't let Claudius win, so she stood straight, like she'd seen her mother do when things got tense, and crossed her arms over her chest. "All I know is that Mama would never lie about this."

"It's like arguing with a bloody chicken," Claudius muttered, stretching his long legs back over the side of the sofa. "Believe me, don't believe me. If you ever grow a brain, you'll see the truth for yourself."

Stomping her foot on the marble floor again, Dora stood up at once.

"If you don't believe me or Mama, then I'm going to ask Father!"

She took three steps before she felt herself being flung around like a ragdoll. Claudius had yanked her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. Dora cried out in pain, and then she was slammed face-first into the wall. Claudius held her in place against the stone, his rancid breath hot and heavy in her ear. She was off the ground, held up in place by his brute strength, and no matter how hard she struggled, he wasn't letting her go.

"Oh, no you don't, you little shit," Claudius snarled, as she whimpered, her eyes watering against the rough stone. "You breathe one word of this to either of them and I'll rip you apart."

"You wouldn't!" she howled.

Claudius pushed her further into the wall. Her cheek stung against the sharp edges of unpolished stone and her arm throbbed as Claudius tugged it tighter.

"Or is it your precious mama you want me to go after?" he growled. "Wouldn't you like to know what it's like to lose your mother and have Father marry again?"

"No–" Dora gasped. "No, you can't–"

"Try me." Claudius put his other hand on the back of her head and pressed it hard. "No one will be left to love you. You weren't even wanted when you were born."

Tears streamed down Dora's face. "N-not M-M-Mama, p-please. D-don't hurt her–"

"If I hear anything— anything at all— about this," he panted, increasing the pressure on her wrist, sending shooting pains up her arm and shoulder, "I'll spare your stupid mother, but you'll wish you had never been born."

Claudius finally let her go. She fell to the floor in a heap and tried backing away on her hands and knees, but he had her stuck in a corner. He lifted her up by the front of her robes and snarled before letting her crash back down. She hid her face, terrified for her life, panicked that he would hurt her again. With another animalistic roar, he thundered out of the parlor.

Dora crawled behind the nearest set of heavy drapes, wrapped her arms around her knees, and wept until she heard her mother's voice.