Andromeda, Eunice, and Nymphadora stood outside of a decrepit department store in London. The ugly mannequins in the front display were frozen until Andromeda stepped up to the glass and announced her purpose. The mannequin talked back in a cool voice and then the glass front shimmered, delivering a welcome message from the hospital. Andromeda went through first, holding Nymphadora's hand, and they were followed by Eunice.
The reception area at St. Mungo's was nicer than Andromeda anticipated. It wasn't as lavish or well-appointed as St. Teilo's, the private hospital preferred by purebloods, but it was clean and bright. An elderly wizard sat in the corner, snorting fire, a younger witch sat in the middle, with a little boy at her side with scales all over his face, and to her left sat an androgynous, slimy accident in transfiguration. Three Healers were already attending to them, with varying degrees of success.
"Welcome!" a squat witch greeted, interrupting Andromeda's study. "You must be Mrs. Travers, Miss Travers, and Miss Bulstrode!"
"We are," Andromeda replied. "We have a meeting with the Board of Governors."
"Please, follow me," the squat witch said, leading them to the lift. A wide-eyed, pink-haired Nymphadora peered around the reception area, sticking her nose out curiously to look inside the Welcome Witch's desk and then up at the placard that listed the hospital floors.
The lift took them up to the fifth floor, which held the gift shop and tea room, and then they stopped ahead of a set of double doors. The witch waved her wand over them, and they opened to reveal a comfortably sized meeting room.
Nymphadora gasped when she realized who was waiting for them at the front.
" Mama —"
"Follow my lead, Nymphadora," Andromeda murmured, trying to communicate with her eyes alone that it was not the time to reveal they were already acquainted with the Healer.
"Good afternoon," said Ted, extending his hand to Andromeda. "You must be Mrs. Travers. I'm Healer Ted Tonks, head of the department. Allow me to be the first to tell you, on behalf of all of us at St. Mungo's, that we are very grateful for your family's donation."
"Healer Tonks," Andromeda repeated primly, giving him the slightest handshake. "This is my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Miss Eunice Bulstrode." She gestured to her right. Eunice's nose twitched upwards, but she shook Ted's hand as Andromeda had. "And this is my daughter, Miss Nymphadora Travers."
Nymphadora looked up at Andromeda, perplexed, but shook Ted's hand. Her dark grey eyes darted around, wide and confused, but Andromeda was relieved; later, if Eunice told Malcolm or anyone else about the meeting, she could truthfully give an account of Nymphadora's seeming reluctance and bewilderment over greeting a Muggleborn man.
"Allow me to introduce you to our Board of Governors," Ted continued, gesturing to those gathered behind him. He rattled off the names of the seven witches and wizards gathered around the table. Andromeda already knew who they were; three purebloods and four half-bloods were in charge at St. Mungo's, and only one of them had been a Slytherin.
When all had been introduced, Andromeda took her seat across from Ted. It was easier, in a way, to be in a room like this with him; there was no possibility that she could say or do anything she'd regret. However, she found she had to take particular care of her wandering mind. As Ted spoke about the research he and his department were doing, she felt herself getting lost in his eyes, admiring his lips, and even dreaming of his hands finding her body.
Pull yourself together , she told herself. You're a grown woman. Control your immature urges.
Meanwhile, on Andromeda's right, Nymphadora sat completely still. She kept her attention entirely on Ted, surprising Andromeda, as she had been skittish for the last two weeks (and mysteriously, hadn't visited the library once since coming home, or spent time in the gardens, which used to be one of her favorite pastimes). Chester, Tippy, and Goldie reported no unusual behavior or injuries. Nymphadora often kept to her room with her cat, Otto, reading, working on her summer homework, or writing long letters to her friends.
". . . with this generous donation," Ted concluded, disrupting Andromeda's reverie, "we will be able to expand our current laboratory and cultivate uncommon herbs and fungi that have led to promising results in relieving the symptoms of pediatric diseases. Up until now, we have had to wait for rare Herbologists to send us what they can, which is nearly never enough for our caseload. This donation will save many children's lives."
The Board of Governors clapped politely when Ted finished speaking. Thankfully, Eunice had taken notes during his debrief, and when he suggested they hold a question-and-answer session, it was Nymphadora who spoke first.
"Do you save a lot of lives here?"
The Board of Governors stared at each other incredulously, but Ted took the question in stride.
"We save as many as humanly possible, Miss Travers. Just this morning I helped deliver a baby boy. He and his mother were in trouble, and it was close, but they're both resting downstairs and doing well."
"Wow," Nymphadora breathed. "That's wicked."
"After lunch, if you'd like," Ted said, peering around the table to gauge the others' reactions, "I would be happy to give you a tour of the department."
"What do you think, ladies?" Andromeda asked Eunice and Nymphadora. "Would you like to see the kinds of patients we would be helping?"
Nymphadora heartily agreed, while Eunice asked if she could see the laboratory and the greenhouse.
"We won't be able to look inside the cauldrons," Ted replied, "as the researchers don't like any interference with their experiments, but we should be able to walk around the entrance and ask them what they're working on." He drummed his fingers on the table and met one of the governors' eyes. "Rosalind, will you be able to join us? Your expertise on our hospital's history will be much appreciated, I'm sure."
Andromeda's heart fell when she realized she wouldn't have Ted alone for the tour, but she understood his motive: Rosalind Fawley, a pureblood witch, would act as an additional, safe buffer between her family and him. Eunice was too new to the family to fully trust her, and Andromeda would suffer the consequences if she appeared too friendly, or spent too much time alone, with a Muggleborn man.
With the tour settled, the Head Governor tapped his wand against a piece of parchment. It transformed into a bird, flew over Nymphadora's head, startling her, and then zoomed out of the meeting room.
"Where's it going?" she asked.
"You'll see," Ted replied, smiling kindly at her. Andromeda ignored the butterflies in her stomach; getting a glimpse of him as a father inspired a graphic vision of how their child had come to exist.
The double doors to the meeting room clicked open. A set of elves with trays magically suspended above their heads came around the table and set up an array of sandwiches, tarts, crisps, and other finger foods. None of it was as elegant as what Andromeda could arrange in her own home, but it would be impolite to turn it down.
"Guests of honor first, of course," said Ted, nodding at Andromeda, Nymphadora, and Eunice. The ladies stood and made their way to the table laden with food. As Andromeda put miniature pasties and tarts on her plate, she glanced back at the Healers forming a queue behind her daughter. Ted was at the end, his gaze settled comfortably on Nymphadora.
"Excuse me, miss?" a Healer asked, trying to get Nymphadora's attention.
But Nymphadora wasn't paying attention. She stared out the window, watching the clouds go by, unaware that she was getting in the way.
"Miss?" The Healer put his hand on Nymphadora's shoulder, and Andromeda watched in horror as the man's face broke out in spiky, urchin-like pustules.
"NO!" Nymphadora screamed, jumping several feet in the air. "NO! NO! NO!" She sank down to the floor and covered her face with her hands, and the Healer behind her howled in agony as the pustules tore through his skin and robes, shredding them into lime green tatters.
Andromeda dropped her plate of food, sending crumbs everywhere, and darted back to her daughter. She was vaguely aware of figures moving around her; someone was attending to the man behind them while orders were being shouted for potions, more Healers, and elves. Nymphadora was shaking and crying. Andromeda scooped her into her lap, holding her tightly and rocking her, desperate to calm her down.
It was only when Ted huddled next to Andromeda, his shoulders touching hers, that she remembered she wasn't alone, and Eunice would be watching her every move with him.
"Don't worry," he murmured into her ear. "I asked Eunice to go with the Head Governor. One of my pureblood trainees will give her a hands-on tour of how the hospital works."
Nymphadora had quieted enough that she was no longer sobbing, but she shook and her face was buried in Andromeda's chest.
"Turn her face for me, Mrs. Travers, if you can," Ted said, pulling out a vial of lavender liquid.
"What is that?" Andromeda narrowed her eyes at him, aware that others could still be watching her behavior.
"It's a Calming Draught formulated for children." Ted unstoppered the vial and swirled its contents. "It acts as a mild sedative. We use it for children who are scared or anxious to be here."
Andromeda made a show of resisting, but she adjusted Nymphadora's head and helped Ted tip the vial into her mouth. Her face was splotchy and red and her neck was covered in hives. Within seconds, the Calming Draught took effect and she fell asleep.
"Cattermole!" Ted called. A fresh-faced young man on the other side of the meeting room perked up and hurried over. "Get me the first available private room on four, and have it stocked with standard pediatric potions. We'll be there in a few minutes."
The young man dashed out and Ted pointed his wand at one of the meeting room chairs, transfiguring it into a narrow stretcher.
"Mrs. Travers, I hope I'm not presumptuous," he said, his blue eyes boring into hers, "but I would be irresponsible if I sent you and Miss Travers home without following up. I can ask one of the Healers from St. Teilo's to come."
Andromeda shook her head. "Don't delay. My daughter comes first."
Ted helped her stand up and shift Nymphadora onto the stretcher. The room had almost emptied, and Ted led Andromeda back to the lifts to bring them down to the fourth floor. The trainee called Cattermole waved at them from the other end of the corridor, pointing to his right, and they went into a small, but well-equipped room.
"Cattermole, one more thing—" Ted met Andromeda's gaze, his expression unreadable. "Find Miss Eunice Bulstrode. I sent her with Rosalind to look after Magnus. If Magnus is stable, ask Rosalind to give Miss Bulstrode a tour of the lab and greenhouses. If not, find Pye and have him give her a tour. It wouldn't hurt if you joined them."
"Got it!" Cattermole gave Ted a thumbs-up and hurried away. Ted closed the door to the hospital room, muttering a charm on it to lock it, and turned to face Andromeda.
"Cattermole is my new trainee . . . he's eager to help. Eunice should be occupied for the next hour at least."
"Thank you," Andromeda murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed where Nymphadora lay asleep. Her hives began to disappear slowly and her hair shifted back to its natural light brown. Andromeda ran her fingers through her daughter's hair and tried to ignore the sounds of Ted's heavy breathing.
"Is this a common reaction?" asked Ted, breaking the silence.
"No," replied Andromeda, kissing the tip of Nymphadora's nose. "I've never seen a burst of accidental magic like this from her."
Ted came around to the other side of the bed, staring hard at Nymphadora. Andromeda raised a brow at him, puzzled at his apparent anger.
"Who hurt her?" Ted's voice was low and the muscles in his neck twitched.
Andromeda blinked at him, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Excuse me?"
"Andromeda," said Ted, his face darkening, "who hurt my daughter?"
"Have you gone mad?" Andromeda gaped and sat back, concerned that this Ted was an impostor. "No one has hurt her."
Ted closed his eyes, and when they opened, his expression softened, but his gleaming eyes betrayed his rage. "Let me explain—I work with children. You wouldn't believe the number of children that arrive here with unusual injuries that are supposedly 'accidental' and react the same way as Dora just did," he said, the calmness in his tone just barely hanging on. "No one fools me. My little girl has been hurt, and it wasn't an accident."
"Nymphadora was surprised!" Andromeda returned angrily, standing up from the bed and marching up to him. "You haven't spent enough time with her—"
"—not my fault, 'Dromeda—"
"—if you knew what I did—"
"—I don't need a reminder, thanks—"
"—listen to me," Andromeda snapped, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. "She's always been fanciful and sensitive. Her head is in the clouds half the time! There's no need to assume such horrid things about my daughter!"
"I'm not assuming, and you need to listen to me," Ted insisted, his mouth tightening into a thin line, his hand coming up to rub the spot where she'd prodded him. "I know something happened to my daughter."
Andromeda's nostrils flared and her hands clenched into fists. "Without my knowledge? I know everything that little girl does. I know who she sees, where she goes, and what she does at home. Are you really accusing me of neglecting her?"
Ted flashed her a pitying smile. "You wouldn't be the first parent who didn't know what was happening in their own home."
"How dare you—"
"'Dromeda, listen to me!" Ted said, pounding his fists against the wall. Andromeda's mouth fell open, shocked at his persistence. "Happy and relaxed children don't react that way when someone comes up to them from behind. A surprised gasp, a small yelp, even a startled jump—all those are expected. But a scream? A panicked scream and curling up, terrified for her life? Accidental magic so strong it left our Head Governor unconscious and covered in barnacles? No, Andromeda, that's not the work of a child who feels safe. That's the work of a child who has been hurt by someone she trusts. If it isn't you and isn't that son of a bitch you're married to, it's his sons—or one of your own relatives."
Ted's shoulders heaved. He couldn't look at her; his fists were still on the wall and his head hung between his muscled forearms.
"That's impossible," Andromeda returned, her confidence faltering as she thought of her stepsons. Byron had his moments, but he wasn't a violent man. She cleared her throat, trembling with the possibilities. "I've had three elves following her nonstop since almost the moment she came home."
"Why?" he growled.
"I . . . I've been worried. She's growing up . . . keeping secrets."
Ted shook his head and adjusted his posture. "Damnit, can't you see what I see? Aren't you hearing yourself? Tell me about how she's been since she got home from school. Has she been acting odd lately? How is she eating? How is she sleeping?"
Andromeda inhaled sharply, reminded of her daughter's increasingly erratic behavior. She kept to her room, her appetite was unpredictable, she avoided the gardens and the library, and she had been adamant against dancing with—
"No," she gasped. "It can't be—"
"The signs are never obvious, until they are," Ted muttered, taking his fists away from the walls. "She'll have been threatened to keep her mouth shut. Abusers are predictable—hers will be no exception." He shuddered and rubbed his palms against his eyes.
Andromeda darted her eyes from Nymphadora, the greatest treasure of her life, and back at Ted, whose hand twitched toward her.
"Is she going to stay asleep for long?" Andromeda asked quietly.
"At least a half hour." The longing in Ted's eyes was undeniable. Andromeda wanted to sink into a hole, ashamed that she had overlooked Nymphadora's suffering.
"If you're sure she can't hear anything . . . and no one will interrupt us," Andromeda offered, sinking into the hard, plastic chair next to the bed, "you can sit with her and hold her hand. I've failed her and you . . . you barely know her . . ."
"She'll need you now more than ever," said Ted, jumping at the opportunity to sit with Nymphadora. He sat down gingerly at the edge of the bed and took one of Nymphadora's small hands in his. "Give me a minute . . . I won't let you leave without knowing what to do or say."
A flood of shameful thoughts invaded Andromeda's mind, watching Ted hold their daughter's hand. If she had never married Byron, if she could have run off with Ted, would Nymphadora have suffered so?
"Wotcher, sweetheart," Ted said softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of Nymphadora's hand. "You don't know who I really am, and I hope one day you know the truth. I'm your father, your real father, and I love you. We don't know each other very well, and I hope that changes one day too. It's not your fault that you've been hurt."
He bent down, pressed the slightest kiss to their daughter's forehead, and brushed loose strands away from her eyes. Gooseflesh erupted all over Andromeda's body; she was the only one who was ever this affectionate or loving toward Nymphadora. Ted's tender care of their daughter, while causing a flurry of unwanted and sore feelings for him, created bitter resentment in Andromeda's heart over the choices she'd had to make to keep him alive.
Ted placed his palm against Nymphadora's cheek. "My little Dora, I think about you every day. I'll do whatever it takes to punish whoever hurt you. You're so beautiful and so good. I'm so very sorry I didn't know about you before, and I promise that someday you'll realize how much I wanted you, and would've loved to see you grow up."
He let go of her face and placed her hand back in her lap. "I'm going to talk to your mother now," he murmured. "I promise we're going to fix this." Tears prickled at Andromeda's eyes. Ted's throat bobbed as he stood up, but he created distance between himself and Nymphadora, and leaned against the wall with his hands at his sides, breathing hard as he prepared to speak to Andromeda.
"What am I going to do?" asked Andromeda, her voice cracking. "I had my suspicions that something was wrong . . . but she won't talk to me."
"You need to talk to her—someplace where she feels safe," Ted replied quickly. "Tell her that she isn't in trouble and she has done nothing wrong. She didn't deserve anything that happened to her." His gaze traveled to Nymphadora. The hives and evidence of her tears were gone and her breathing was steady. "Tell her it's not her fault. Tell her it's not okay she was hurt and you will do everything—or so help me God, 'Dromeda, I will take her myself— everything possible to ensure she is never hurt again."
"What if she doesn't tell me the—"
"You keep a careful eye on every person going in and out of your house. Watch her behavior when she's around adults she should trust—your husband, his sons, your brother, cousins—"
"It won't have been Byron," Andromeda mumbled, more for her own benefit. "He's not violent."
Ted's hands balled into fists and his shoulders heaved. He let out a deep breath and neutralized his expression. "Don't discount him because of your own experiences with him. Until proven otherwise, he's just as likely to be guilty as the next bloke."
Nymphadora's fingers twitched. She moaned softly and Andromeda stood at once to assure her she was safe. Ted unlocked the hospital room door and sent out a memo. As Nymphadora's eyes fluttered open, a Mediwitch arrived with a tray of food and a new set of potions.
"If you'll follow me, Miss Bulstrode . . ." Andromeda heard Cattermole's voice from the corridor and Ted poked his head outside.
"Mama?" Nymphadora croaked. "Where am I?"
"St. Mungo's, darling," Andromeda replied, kissing her forehead. "We'll talk about it when we get home. You're safe and you're all right. That's all you need to know."
"I'm hungry."
Andromeda brought the tray of food closer to Nymphadora and began feeding her. At the first available moment, she would learn exactly who hurt her daughter and make them pay.