The flurry of owls that flew into the Great Hall on a dull November morning drew everyone's attention. Three huge owls carried a sizable, colorful parcel, and everyone looked up to see where they were going. The owls flew over the teachers' table, across Slytherin and Gryffindor, and were making their slow way to the Hufflepuff table.
"Dora, look! They're coming for you!"
Maisie was right. The three owls swept onto the Hufflepuff table and knocked everything off within a their wingspans' radius. One of them fell over into a plate of bacon, and another dunked its feathery head into a jug of pumpkin juice. Older Hufflepuffs glared at Dora, and she smiled sheepishly at them as she unwrapped the giant parcel the owls brought for her. A neatly folded letter sat on top of the contents, which was addressed in Andromeda's elegant script.
To my darling Nymphadora,
Bonjour from Paris. Your father, grandparents, and I are enjoying ourselves. Enclosed you'll find many treats to share with your friends and your cousins. Your grandmother insisted a box go to each Sirius, Regulus, and Narcissa. Please deliver the macarons to them and tell them they're from your doting grandmother.
When you're older, I'll take you to Paris. There's a magical menagerie just outside of Paris that houses a Zouwu. I took pictures of it but the reality was grander, as you might imagine. I have also purchased several bolts of fabric for us. I found a charming, soft wool with a pattern you're going to love.
Your father sends his best. He was pleased to hear your marks continue to be excellent. We are proud that you are one of the top students in your year.
We have good news to share with you in this letter. I would have waited until Christmas, but Eunice knew how eagerly you were awaiting the news. She and your brother, Malcolm, are expecting their first baby in May. You're going to be an aunt in six months' time. Isn't that wonderful?
I miss you terribly and wish you were here with us. Just a few short weeks and we'll be together for the holidays.
With all my love, your mother,
Andromeda.
Dora whooped upon reading the letter. Eunice was pregnant! She could only hope that Eunice and Malcolm were madly in love now and that in the spring, they would have a new baby to love even more.
"What is it?" asked Iris, looking over Dora's shoulder.
"My brother and his wife are having a baby!" Dora replied with a grin. "I'm going to be an auntie!" She took out the next item in the parcel, a powder blue box with a window that displayed a pastel rainbow of sweet treats.
"Ooh, are these macarons?" Maisie looked inside the box with awe. "Real French macarons?"
"Yeah! Mama sent a lot for me to share." Dora took out one of the boxes and opened it. She took a pink macaron and offered the box to her eagerly waiting friends. "I've got to get these other boxes to my cousins before I forget."
Dora pulled out three boxes from the parcel. She looked up; at the Slytherin table, Narcissa and Regulus were already at breakfast. Sirius and his friends were nowhere to be found.
"Maisie, Iris, make sure no one takes these, please," she said. "I'll be right back!"
With two powder blue boxes under her arm, Dora made her way to the end of the Slytherin table where Narcissa was glued to Lucius's face. Dora rolled her eyes and sat down across from them, clearing her throat louder and louder until Narcissa turned her head.
"What do you—ah, Fifi. It's only you."
Narcissa's lips were pink and swollen and her hair was mussed. Lucius was in a similar state and Dora fought the urge to tell Narcissa not to give her shiny-headed boyfriend a single macaron.
"Mama and Grandmother sent these to you," Dora said. She gave the box to Narcissa, who eyed the contents appreciatively. "Also, guess what?"
"You found a new type of snail in your common room?" Narcissa asked drily, as Lucius snickered into his elbow.
"No, but that would be wicked! Malcolm and Eunice are going to have a baby! I get to be an auntie before you do!"
Both Narcissa and Lucius stopped their sneering and exchanged almost impressed looks.
"Thinking of one's lineage can work," Lucius said, as a smirk grew on his face. "Give your brother my congratulations."
Dora, puzzled at his reaction, was mollified when Narcissa pinched him in the side. "Anyway," she said, after Narcissa offered her half-hearted congratulations, "I've got to get this box to Regulus. I guess you can go back to eating each other's faces."
Dora held her head high and marched down to the other end of the Slytherin table, where Regulus sat with the other first years. Unlike her older cousin, Regulus was waiting for her with a grin.
"Is that from—"
"Mama and Grandmother," Dora finished, handing him the box of macarons. "Also, Malcolm and Eunice are having a baby! I'm going to be an auntie!"
"Do you think it'll be a boy?" asked Regulus, after taking a chocolate macaron out of the box. "I reckon it's going to be a boy."
"Maybe?" Dora frowned. She hadn't even thought of what the baby would be like, only that there would be a baby. "It would be nice to have a girl. I always wanted a sister."
Regulus shrugged. "Mother says that boys are better."
Dora deflated at the many memories of Auntie Burgie praising the virtues of having not one, but two sons. It reminded her that Sirius still needed his box of macarons. She looked behind her, but Sirius and his obnoxious friends weren't at the Gryffindor table.
"Do you know where Sirius is?"
"No," Regulus replied flatly. "He's probably in bed or exploding a toilet."
"I could ask the girls, maybe," Dora mused aloud. Two of the second year Gryffindor girls were at breakfast, Lily Evans and Dorcas Meadowes.
Regulus scrunched up his nose at the Gryffindor table. "There's only Mudbloods there."
"I'm only going to ask them a question." Dora huffed at her cousin and swept her pink hair behind her back. "Make sure you write to Grandmother and say thank you. She likes that."
Dora took a resigned breath and turned to the Gryffindor table. Lily and Dorcas were nice enough, she thought. Lily was best friends with the sullen-faced Slytherin boy, Severus, and Dorcas was quiet, but always polite.
"Er," Dora began, standing awkwardly across from Lily and Dorcas. "Hi, Lily. Hi, Dorcas. Do you know if Sirius is coming down soon, or if you saw them in your common room?"
Lily shook her head. "Potter said Lupin was in the hospital wing. You could try to see if he's there."
"Remus is ill? Again?"
"Maybe he hurt himself?" Lily guessed. "Those boys are always doing something stupid."
"You're probably right. Thanks, Lily," Dora replied. "I'll try the infirmary and if he's not there, I'll give his macarons to Professor McGonagall."
Dora returned to the Hufflepuff table. She was grateful that her double Herbology class had been canceled that morning; apparently the teenage mandrakes were getting to know each other and the greenhouse that housed them wouldn't be available for at least a week due to their 'partying'. With her morning free, it allowed her to rewrap the parcel with her friends' help and take it back to their dormitory. When she had taken out the box of macarons meant for Sirius, she promised her friends she would meet them in the library before Potions with the Ravenclaws, and then set off for the hospital wing.
It was odd to Dora that Remus was ill again so soon. She wondered if he had a rare disease, like the children at St. Mungo's who were getting help from the Travers family donation. Perhaps when she saw Healer Tonks again she would ask him if he knew about Remus, and what was afflicting him. Of Sirius's friends, Remus was the least obnoxious, and Dora would be sorry to see him have to leave Hogwarts if he was too ill to keep up with his studies.
The infirmary doors were open when Dora arrived, and to her relief, Sirius was there with Potter and Pettigrew. Remus's sandy brown hair was visible from the entrance, but he looked like he was asleep.
"Miss Travers," Madam Pomfrey said crisply. "What are you doing here? Are you ill or hurt?"
"No, ma'am," Dora replied, shrinking slightly from the stern matron. "My mama and grandmother sent me something to give to Sirius. I heard he was here."
Madam Pomfrey turned her head to the gaggle of Gryffindors, who were muttering amongst each other. "Mr. Black, your cousin is here with something for you."
Sirius hopped off a bed and sauntered up to Dora. "Macarons?"
"From Mama and Grandmother," Dora repeated. She craned her neck to see if Remus was awake. "Is Remus ill again?"
"It's that time of year," Madam Pomfrey said, clucking impatiently. "Mr. Lupin will be right as rain in no time."
"Make sure you give some of those macarons to Remus, then," Dora said, taking Sirius's sleeve before he returned to his friends. "Promise me he'll have some?"
"Yeah, yeah, he will—can you let go of me?"
Dora bit her lip and glanced at the sleeping boy. "Tell him I hope he feels better too?"
"Anything else, mistress?" Sirius said, making his voice creaky like Kreacher's.
Dora shook her head and snorted at his impersonation of the elderly elf. He rushed back to his friends, and while Dora wanted to make sure Remus got his macarons, she'd simply have to trust that Sirius would share.
The nursery at Travers Court had been unoccupied for over five years on the day that Andromeda decided to reopen it in preparation for the newest child to occupy it. The last time Andromeda had stepped inside the space to refurbish it, the year was 1959, and the drab designs were replaced with soft, happy colors, murals of magical creatures, and fine furnishings for her baby.
In those early days of her marriage to Byron, it was the only space in the vast mansion that she felt comfortable remodeling, as she knew her husband and stepsons would rarely venture into the nursery. It would be a space for her and her child to share for the first few years. If the child had been a boy, he would have split his time between tutors and his father, starting at the tender age of 6, but as the baby had been beautiful, wonderful Nymphadora, Andromeda had enjoyed teaching her daughter her numbers and letters in the whimsical nursery.
When Nymphadora was seven, and it was time for her to learn more advanced topics, Byron had suggested they send her to St. Leoba's Academy for Girls. It was a first-rate day school for young pureblood girls and a favorite among upper-class witches who had neither the patience nor time to teach their daughters, but Andromeda refused to send Nymphadora away so soon. She took charge of her daughter's education, and they moved to the library to continue the girl's lessons. The nursery was closed until the next child appeared.
Andromeda felt her eyes welling up as she looked at the mementos from her daughter's first years of life. Memories came flooding back of the hours spent within the nursery: Nymphadora's first true smile, the day she rolled over, her hair turning a vivid pink at her own ingenuity, and the day she took her first steps and waddled to Andromeda with the sweetest smile.
Someday, Andromeda thought, as she took off the cloths that protected the furniture from dust and sun damage, she would take her memories of those early days and give them to Ted. Byron had never expressed an interest in Nymphadora's early childhood, other than ensuring the girl was healthy and developing properly. There was never a worry over Nymphadora being a Squib, to everyone's relief; a Metamorphmagus was always a witch or wizard.
Had Ted been with Andromeda (which she imagined on a daily basis, joining her daughter in play-pretend of her own making), she could only imagine how loving he would be. But, as the dust flew off the cloths, Andromeda set those thoughts aside. It didn't do her any good to dwell on the past or could-have-beens. What mattered was the present, and the present demanded she prepare the nursery for the new baby.
Andromeda swished her wand at the wall of windows on the west side of the nursery. They clicked open and let the cool December air begin freshening the space.
". . . a bloody nightmare. It better be a boy."
Andromeda's ears perked up at the sound of Malcolm's voice.
"She just fucking lays there. I've got to do all the work. If she doesn't give me a son—"
"Get your French bird pregnant," Claudius said, the smirk evident in his tone. "Double your chances."
"What, and have a whore's son as my heir?" Malcolm spat. "Father would know. He'd never allow it."
"Who cares what Father thinks? He lost all credibility when he married that cunt we're forced to call our mother."
Andromeda pursed her lips and got closer to the open windows. The voices were floating up, which meant the boys were in the big sitting room below the nursery and had also opened their windows.
"If you're going to be pissed at anyone, it should be her," Claudius continued. "She's the one who insisted you marry the porker."
"You'd have thought that Father would've let me have the Flint girl," Malcolm growled. "He got to choose with his cock, why couldn't I have done the same?"
"Because she hates us. All that matters to our slut of a stepmother is her precious Fifi and spending all of Father's gold."
Someone snorted loudly. "A holiday to Paris after she forced him to donate all that money to St. Mungo's?" Malcolm's voice rang out. "She could've fucked him here. At least she won't get a Knut of her dowry."
"She won't?"
"Father showed me his will when I married. It's the oddest thing—her father gave her entire dowry to the Travers vault. She won't get anything unless we give it to her."
The sound of furniture scraping the floor echoed up to the nursery.
"She treats us like shit," Claudius said. "Why the fuck would she do that if she's not getting anything out of it?"
"Fifi, you dolt," Malcolm replied scornfully. "Most of the dowry's going to that little brat. Andromeda's spoiling the shape-shifting idiot for her own gain."
"Can't you change that?"
"Only if Father changes the will before he dies."
"Then make him change it! Those bitches don't deserve anything—"
"Calm down, Claudius," Malcolm drawled. "Don't you think I know that? All I've got to do is convince Father I need the gold more than the brat does, or make him find someone like Malfoy who'll take her off our hands and doesn't need the gold."
"What imbecile would take a birdbrain like Fifi?"
"An imbecile who can be convinced she'll look however she wants for him," Malcolm replied coolly. Andromeda could imagine the leer on his face. Anger rushed through her at the insults being hurled at her innocent daughter.
"Someone should show her how to—" The sounds grew muffled and the boys laughed uproariously.
Andromeda had the sinking feeling that whatever Claudius had suggested, it wasn't appropriate for any kind of company.
"Leave it to me," Malcolm said. "And who knows? Maybe if my wife pops out a girl I can tell Father I'll need the gold for the hideous witch I'll be forced to sell off to the highest bidder."
The conversation below died down when the windows were closed. Andromeda clutched her wand in her hand and renewed her vow to protect her daughter from anyone who threatened her.
Committing murder, and receiving a sentence in Azkaban, would be better than seeing her daughter's spirit broken by those who didn't deserve to even know her.
Two sets of fine dress robes hung in front of Andromeda. She darted her eyes between them, truly stumped as to which set she ought to wear for the fundraiser. Had it been merely a pureblood event, the choice would have been easy; the emerald set that her sister designed would be the envy of every witch and would turn more than one wizard's head.
However, with Ted at the fundraiser, not to mention her father and husband, Andromeda didn't want to give the impression she was trying to attract anyone's attention. The tasteful, classic constellation robes were the obvious choice for the evening. They were elegant and luxurious, a sign of her wealth, but revealed no more of her body than necessary.
Burgie, and to Andromeda's surprise, her mother, Irma, were in favor of the emerald robes. Druella preferred the constellation robes, which made Andromeda want to choose the other set out of spite. Even Eunice had been consulted and thought the emerald set was best.
It left Andromeda with the curious idea to ask for her husband's opinion. If anyone had anything to say on Andromeda's fashion decisions, she could truthfully tell them that the robes were chosen by the man whose opinion mattered most, and she was merely doing her part to keep her pureblood husband's best interests at heart. No one could fault her for wanting to please her husband.
Sighing reluctantly, Andromeda called for one of the elves and asked them to bring Byron to her bedchamber. She grimaced as she realized how Byron would interpret the request, especially given she was only in a thin shift she wore underneath her robes, and resigned herself to accepting him in her bed, should he want her intimate company. She was tired and cramping ahead of her expected cycle, but she could always take a Pain Relief Potion and a small dose of an Invigoration Potion to keep herself steady.
There was a knock on the door and Byron stepped through, with a brow raised and interest in his eyes upon seeing her in her shift. Andromeda cleared her throat and forced a small smile on her face.
"Hello, dear," she said. "I have a rather odd request for you."
"I assumed so, as you called me to your chambers at—" He checked his watch and glanced up at her. "Three o'clock in the afternoon."
"Yes, well . . . I don't believe that we were thinking of quite the same thing . . ." Andromeda gestured up to the sets of robes on the hangers. "I don't like to bother you with these sorts of frivolous matters, but . . . as you're my husband, may I ask your opinion on something?"
Byron clasped his hands behind his back and nodded.
"If I tried on each set of robes for you, would you tell me which one you like better?" she asked. "To wear to the fundraiser, that is. I like both of them, but I'm concerned the emerald ones are too . . . revealing, perhaps?"
Byron agreed by sitting down at the edge of her bed. He gestured at the robes and she tried on the black constellation set first. They hung beautifully on her body and the glimmering silver thread shone brightly against the setting sun filtering through the window.
"I designed the fabric myself," she said softly, watching Byron's eyes roam over her body. "This is what I planned, but Burgie designed the other one and . . . I suppose you can tell me which one you prefer?"
Andromeda removed the black constellation robes and put them back on the hanger. She could feel her husband's gaze on her as she took the emerald set off and slipped into them.
The sharp inhale from Byron's lips let Andromeda know the decision had been made. The neckline plunged down to show off a bit of cleavage. The waist was tight and her hips were being hugged in all the right places. A slit ran up one of her legs, which revealed half her thigh. It was borderline scandalous, but Burgie had outdone herself in designing the robes. Andromeda felt beautiful.
"What do you think?" Andromeda felt a little thrill as she ambled up to meet Byron, whose pupils had gone wide as she took her appearance in. She spun around for him and felt, possibly for the first time in her marriage, as if she could have some power in her bedroom. "Too much for the gala? Black ones instead?"
"No," Byron said, reaching his hand out to graze her bare thigh. "Wear these. You do me credit by looking like this."
"Very well," Andromeda murmured. "Thank you for your wisdom, Byron." As she removed her robes, she found her husband loosening his belt and trousers.
She only had to nod at him to agree, but after seeing his reaction to her, she didn't dread their intimacy as much as she had before.