Dora sat on the bed in her mother's room, watching their reflections in the vanity mirror. She scrunched her nose and formed a miniature elephant's trunk out of it. She wiggled it around, blew forcefully out her nostrils, but it only sounded like a good sneeze. Andromeda merely raised an eyebrow in response. Scrunching her nose again, Dora changed it to a pig's snout and tried to oink, but that didn't work either; it sounded like she was having difficulty on the toilet.
"Darling, don't you have homework to complete?" asked Andromeda, placing a dangling gem through her left earlobe.
"I finished it already! I even started reading my new school books," Dora protested. "Besides, this is more fun."
Andromeda tsked under her breath and reached for her hair pins. Dora closed her eyes and focused on her mouth. She transformed it into a duck's bill, and after a few tries, she managed to produce little quacks.
"I—quack—did—quack—it!" Dora quacked a few more times, thrilled when her mother set her hair pins down and beamed at her.
"That's your best work yet," Andromeda praised, tapping her finger on the yellow bill. "I'll have a whole zoo in my house in no time." She kissed the top of Dora's head and returned to her vanity seat.
Dora closed her eyes and concentrated on her arms. She felt a tingling sensation on them, and when she opened her eyes, she sighed in disappointment when she'd only made patches of her skin green and her fine arm hair turned white.
"Take a break, Nymphadora. You can try again after dinner, or tomorrow."
"But I wanted to have feathers!"
"You can have feathers later." Andromeda placed the largest pin in her hair. She picked up her silver hand mirror and turned around to inspect her handiwork. "Come," she said, holding out her hand. "We don't want to miss Eunice and Malcom's arrival, do we?"
Dora eagerly nodded and hopped off the bed. Malcolm and Eunice had come back from their honeymoon in Paris. While Dora didn't care about seeing Malcolm, she looked forward to seeing Eunice again. Dora was anxious to learn if her new sister-in-law had fallen in love yet. Even though Andromeda said that what Claudius told her about love and sex wasn't entirely true (it was true that people didn't need to be in love to have sex and make a baby, but it was always better to be in love when that happened), Dora liked Eunice very much and wanted her to be happy. She didn't want to think about Eunice and Malcolm being in love, but if they were, maybe there would be a new baby soon.
"Mama, do you think Eunice is already pregnant?" asked Dora, as they rounded the corner to the east side of the house.
"I don't know, darling. Sometimes these things can take weeks, months, or even years."
"Years?"
"It took a few years for your Auntie Burgie to become pregnant with Sirius, and almost no time with Regulus," Andromeda said. "Everyone is different."
"If someone is in love, does it happen faster?"
Andromeda snorted softly. "I don't know what else your brother told you, but love makes it easier to make a baby, not necessarily faster."
Dora stuck her tongue out. "Why would it make it easier but not faster?"
"Remember I told you that sex is a very intimate activity?" Andromeda asked. Dora watched one of the portraits scoff at them and vanish into another frame.
"Uh huh."
"When you're more comfortable with someone, it's easier to be intimate with them. Your body will respond more easily to theirs. Being comfortable makes it easier to be intimate with someone, but that doesn't necessarily coincide with how long it takes to get pregnant. Love and comfort don't always mean a baby happens fast, and sometimes pregnancies happen out of the blue."
Dora ran her fingers along the stone walls. "That doesn't seem fair."
"Sometimes life isn't fair," Andromeda murmured. Dora glanced up at the right moment; her mother's eyes dimmed for a fraction of a second, but she bounced back.
As they arrived in the sitting room, where a mysteriously quiet Claudius was waiting for them, Dora considered her own short life. Her eyes flicked to her stony-faced brother, whose behavior had changed completely in the last few weeks. It wasn't fair that Claudius hurt her, but he didn't even look at her anymore. It wasn't fair that Malcolm didn't love Eunice before their wedding, or that it might take a long time for them to fall in love, if ever. (When Andromeda explained that some married couples loved each other, but weren't necessarily in love, it nearly broke Dora's heart on Eunice's behalf, knowing Malcolm might never love her.)
Observing her mother's determined, aristocratic gaze, which was set on Claudius, Dora wondered anew if her parents were in love. She had almost asked about it when her mother talked about what Claudius had said at Easter, but she had been too afraid. Andromeda insisted that romantic feelings came and went for everyone, and what mattered most was two people who loved each other and their family, and wanted to have a life together.
Nevertheless, Dora couldn't ask about it now, not with Claudius sitting in a tall, wingback armchair, his newly acquired scar across his cheek still gleaming pink in the August sunlight. She hadn't asked about that injury either, or his new limp; Dora had the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't be told the truth anyway.
"How is work, Claudius?" asked Andromeda.
"Good," he replied curtly. "Busy."
Andromeda hummed lightly. "I read that there's a new American company trying to break into the market. Is that true?"
Claudius sucked in a breath. "Mr. Speedy Broomsticks won't see British air for at least two years."
"What an odd name for a broomstick!" Andromeda said, in a tone that Dora knew was feigned interest. "What do you think, Nymphadora?"
"Er, I dunno?" Dora ventured. She was spared from saying more when her father appeared in the living room. His mustache twitched when he glanced at his watch.
Claudius got to his feet and shook Byron's hand. Dora stood too and joined her mother and the four of them watched as moments later, the fire in the Floo turned bright green and two figures appeared in the flames.
"Malcolm, my boy!" Byron called, stepping forward to receive his oldest son. "And the new Mrs. Travers, of course." He nodded at Eunice, who shook off some of the soot from her robes and nodded demurely at Byron.
"It's good to see you both," said Andromeda, kissing each of their cheeks. "I hope you enjoyed yourselves in Paris."
Malcolm shrugged and joined Byron and Claudius, while Eunice whispered something in Andromeda's ear that Dora couldn't hear. Whatever it was, Andromeda only whispered back "good," and beckoned for Dora to join them on the way to the dining room.
While Andromeda and Eunice discussed the high-end shops in magical Paris, Dora stole a glance at Malcolm. He was the same as ever, except for the ring on his left hand. It seemed that neither Malcolm nor Eunice were any different after their marriage; then again, it didn't seem like her cousin Bella had changed much after her marriage to Mr. Rodolphus.
There wasn't much of a chance to investigate changed feelings over dinner. Dora sat next to Eunice and across from Claudius, who didn't look her way once. The adults' conversation was dreadfully dull, too; they nattered on about some proposed building regulations in Diagon Alley which the Gringotts goblins were opposing. It was even duller than sitting in Professor Binns's history class, where Dora could read her history book undisturbed and learn from it instead of the ghost droning on and on and—
"Fifi, are you falling asleep?"
Dora blinked groggily at Malcolm. She couldn't suppress her loud yawn, and her mother tsked in response.
"Cover your mouth when you yawn, Nymphadora," Andromeda admonished. "We didn't raise you to be unladylike."
"Excuse me," Dora said half-heartedly, covering her mouth when she yawned again. "I'm tired."
"Perhaps it's past little Fifi's bedtime," Malcolm said, sneering. He glanced at Claudius, but Claudius merely shrugged and took a sip of his wine.
"It is getting late," said Byron, eyeing the clock on the mantlepiece.
"Why don't we take tea and dessert in the sitting room?" suggested Andromeda. "I'm sure Malcolm and Eunice are weary from their travels. It will be more comfortable for all of us."
The others agreed to taking tea and dessert outside the formal dining room, but the wizards went to Byron's study, leaving the witches to enjoy their trifle in the sitting room. Dora thought that might've been her mother's plan from the start, to get the witches away from the wizards, as they had six courses before they got to dessert.
The brisk walk from the dining room to the sitting room shook Dora out of her dinnertime slumber. She drank a cup of black tea (laden with a hefty spoonful of sugar to counteract the bitterness), and felt the buzz of caffeine hitting her bloodstream.
" . . . the patisserie you recommended was my favorite," said Eunice. "My mother was pleased with the macarons I brought her."
"Eunice, areyouinlovewithMalcolmyet?" Dora asked breathlessly, sitting on the edge of her seat, no longer able to contain her curiosity.
Eunice tilted her head to the side. "Pardon?"
"Nymphadora," Andromeda warned. "That's too personal of a question."
"What is?" Eunice asked, her eyes darting between mother and daughter.
"I wanted to know if you were in love with Malcolm yet, but if you're not that's okay, Mama said it can take time and that's okay too—"
Andromeda peered into Dora's teacup. She brought it up to her nose and gave Dora a disappointed scowl.
"You know better than to drink strong tea this late. You won't be able to sleep." Andromeda rubbed her temples and turned to Eunice and said, "I apologize Nymphadora has addled her mind with caffeine." Turning back to Dora, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Go to your room. You can think about asking Eunice a different question when you see her again."
"But, Mama—"
"Andromeda, I don't mind," Eunice offered quietly. "I can answer her question. It's not too personal for me."
Dora sat at the edge of the sofa. She kept her hands under her thighs to keep from showing how fidgety she was. Andromeda's expression was guarded, but she didn't prevent Eunice from speaking.
"I'm not a romantic person, Nymphadora," said Eunice. "I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but it's the truth. I don't need to be in love to be happy, and I am so very happy to be married to your brother. I'll be even happier when we have children of our own someday."
"Oh." Dora sat back, disappointed. "Okay." She thought of asking if there would be a new baby soon, but she already feared the lecture her mother would give her before bed for her earlier behavior.
"And we are happy to have you in our family, Eunice," said Andromeda, taking Eunice's hand and squeezing it lightly. "Next week we'll take our annual family portraits. You'll make a lovely addition."
Dora heard her father and brothers' voices coming from the corridor. She twiddled her thumbs, knowing the evening was coming to a close, and prepared herself for the earful she'd get before she was allowed to sleep.
Andromeda left Nymphadora's room with an exhaustion that seeped into her bones. The twelve-year-old was becoming more inquisitive and stubborn by the day. Not for the first time since she reconnected with Ted, Andromeda wished she had been able to raise Nymphadora with him. He always knew what to say. She was sure he would have made a wonderful father to the clever girl they created together, and if he had more children, they would be lucky to have him.
She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to think of Ted's future with his new wife. Her moods had been unpredictable since Ted's wedding day; she hadn't heard from him (not that she expected any communication while he was away on a honeymoon) and she hadn't sent him anything either. Every time she thought of writing Ted, she would find her way to the hall that held her family's portraits.
Reminded of Byron and all the vows she had made to him on their wedding day, as well as the promises she made to her father, she would squash the need to write Ted. He couldn't be her future. Her future was set in stone the day she married Byron Travers.
Speaking of which, she thought, when she found her husband in the sitting room between their bedrooms. He had his dressing gown on and a book in his hands.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting for long," she said, and placed a kiss on his cheek.
"Ten minutes or so," replied Byron, shrugging and setting the book aside. "Did Nymphadora explain herself?"
"She didn't need to, as she has a mild fever. She didn't want to miss Malcolm and Eunice's homecoming, being ill, but it's nothing severe. She should be fine in a day or two."
"Foolish, but at least her priorities were set on her family, rather than her usual childish antics." Byron got out of his chair and put his hands behind his back. "Will you need a few moments before I visit you?"
Andromeda shook her head. "You may come with me, if you like."
Byron followed her into her bedroom. It wasn't often that she invited him into her space to watch her undress; in the early years of their marriage, she waited, shivering and nude for him in her bedroom, until she had the courage to ask him for a few minutes to prepare herself. He obliged, and it was only when he walked her to her bed that she undressed for him.
Tonight she felt unusually grateful for her husband. Though it wasn't always simple or easy to be married to him, he kept his promises of being generous with her. The pearl-drop earrings she removed from her earlobes, a gift for her 30thbirthday, came off first. The emerald and diamond necklace he'd most recently given her came off second. Next came the sparkly bracelets that adorned her wrists, which were gifts given to her upon their tenth wedding anniversary; time and time again, Byron fulfilled his promises, built upon a shared agreement that she would uphold hers.
Andromeda unpinned her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. As she rose from her vanity seat, she noticed that Byron was sitting in the same place as Nymphadora had. Unlike the girl who swung her legs and changed her noses, he stayed silent and watched Andromeda disrobe. Doling out praise for her appearance was a rarity, but Andromeda knew he found her attractive when his eyes darkened with desire and his body reacted accordingly.
"You never asked me how I managed to convince Malcolm to marry her," Byron said, sitting back while his trousers grew tight in anticipation.
"I don't like to pry where I'm not needed," Andromeda replied evenly. She cast a charm to put her robes back on a hanger and then unzipped the side of the gauzy shift dress she wore underneath them. "I confess I'm curious, although I never liked to get between a father and his sons."
Byron began undressing, starting with his silk shirt. "I had to suggest an age-old solution. Malcolm secured himself a girl when he and Eunice went to Paris. She's living in his old flat in London."
Andromeda stopped unzipping. A thin strap fell down her shoulder and she gaped at her husband. "He what?"
"You needn't worry for your own sake," Byron said, matter-of-factly. He had removed his shirt and vest and had moved onto his trousers. "I never had to resort to such measures. You have always performed well, and as I've said before, you were a particularly good match for me in more ways than one. Malcolm is weak and though Eunice is a fine match, I cannot deny she is rather homely. I've cautioned him to expend most of his energy on producing an heir. When he has fulfilled his duty, he can visit the other woman as he pleases."
It was of little comfort that Byron advised his son to spend more time with Eunice until a new Travers heir appeared. It wasn't unheard of for men to acquire a mistress or two, and while an older witch would be prepared for such an eventuality (and the possible diseases her husband could bring to their marital bed), Eunice might not be. Andromeda had hoped that Eunice's youth would work in her favor, but it seemed Malcolm hadn't bothered to give her a chance.
"Is this something you'd like me to share with Eunice?" she asked quietly. "I don't believe you would have told me otherwise."
"Only as it impacts her ability to birth a healthy son," replied Byron. "I warned Malcolm to be careful in his selection. He should have been, but a whore is still a whore. They lie as often as the rest of us."
"I see," Andromeda said stiffly. She finished unzipping her shift dress and let it float to her laundry basket.
"Come now, Andromeda. Not everyone can be so fortunate in their spouse as I have been. You ought to take it as a compliment." He raised a brow at her, glanced down at his arousal, and back at her.
"Thank you, Byron," she replied softly, gazing down at the space between his legs. "I too am fortunate . . . your virility is always a pleasure to behold."
Byron smirked and sat back on the bed, his arms holding him up while he waited for her to meet him.
Andromeda concealed her disgust at the disrespect shown to Eunice, but no amount of revulsion would change the situation. As with the countless disappointments in her life, Andromeda shook this one off and removed the last of her clothes. It would do no good to argue with Byron or express her frustration with the way of the world: if purebloods like the Bulstrodes, Traverses, and Blacks weren't so determined to keep their blood 'pure,' loving marriages might become the norm and there would be no need for mistresses.
At least Andromeda believed Byron's claim that he had no need to find pleasure outside their marriage. As she fell to her knees and began her ministrations, she could hold onto the small consolation that she was still desirable.
Not everyone could be so lucky.