The eagerly anticipated shopping day of the winter holidays began with a dusting of snow. Dora dressed quickly, eager to spend extra coins with her mother. Now that she had a gaggle of new friends, she looked forward to purchasing gifts for them, wrapping them herself, and sending them off with the family owls.
Dora and Andromeda arrived in Diagon Alley just as the shops were opening for business. They made their way along the cobblestone street, with Dora inhaling the scents of sweet cinnamon and warm nutmeg wafting from the bakery. Bells rung merrily with the gentle bite of the wind, carrying the woody scent of pine with them, and Dora sighed contentedly, happy to be with her mother for the day.
"Twilfitt and Tatting's?" Dora asked, dismayed when they reached the robe shop.
"We won't be long," Andromeda replied, adjusting Dora's lopsided hat. "All your robes are ready for a final fitting. We need to make sure you haven't grown too much since our last visit."
Dora grumbled but went inside, entered the private fitting suite marked "Travers," and stepped up on the dais after removing her winter cloak and black robes. She groaned; there were at least a dozen new robes she'd have to try on.
"Mama, why are there so many?"
Madam Twilfitt, a hard-faced witch, took the first set off the clothing rack and pulled them over Dora's head.
"Tilly," said Andromeda, addressing the shopkeeper, "I trust everything we say stays between us?"
"Naturally, Mrs. Travers," the shopkeeper replied, adjusting the clasps on Dora's first set of robes.
Andromeda turned to Dora. "How would you feel if we added someone to the family?"
Dora's jaw dropped. "Are you and Father having a baby?"
"Oh, no, no!" Andromeda laughed and shook her head. "No, darling, that's not what I meant at all. Your brother, Malcolm, is thinking about getting married. You would have a sister-in-law."
"That's fine, I suppose," Dora replied, shrugging. "Does he have a girlfriend?"
"Not yet—that's why we're getting all these new robes."
Dora stared at her mother, ignoring Madam Twilfitt's impatient sighs whenever Dora shifted.
"Why would I need new robes for Malcolm's girlfriend?"
"Because, Nymphadora," Andromeda said, helping Madam Twilfitt keep Dora in place, "we'll be dining with these families and we want to put our best foot forward. Malcolm is looking for a wife, but the witches coming to see us will want to know they'll be happy with him and our family. Malcolm won't be the only wizard they're considering."
"Is that what you had to do?" Dora asked, sticking her arms out when Madam Twilfitt asked her to. "Did you want to marry Father right away when you met him? Or did you fancy someone else?"
Andromeda's polite smile faltered. "It was a little different for me. I didn't have as many choices because your father was very interested in marrying me. I was happy and grateful to accept him."
Dora frowned at her mother, seeing the slight sadness in her eyes. "Father was the only wizard you met?"
"No, not quite . . ." Andromeda took the next set of robes off the garment rack. "I knew many young men from my school days, but I wasn't interested in any young wizard. Your father was well-established and ready for marriage."
"But did you fancy him, Mama?" Dora pressed. "Was it love at first sight?"
Andromeda's eyes crinkled downward for a fraction of a second. She hesitated, running her fingers along a bolt of ruby velvet fabric. "I thought he was a very good man and I wanted to be his wife."
Dora noticed Madam Twilfitt's brow go up and her eyes widen slightly. She continued, desperate for more details. "Did Father fall in love with you right away? Is that why he wanted to marry you?"
"You're asking many questions today, Nymphadora," Andromeda replied coolly. "We were talking about your brother."
"I know, but you've never said anything about this before!" Dora countered. Andromeda pursed her lips and clasped her hands behind her back.
"The truth of the matter is—when it comes to witches and wizards like those in our family, including your cousins, aunts, and uncles—falling in love often happens after a marriage takes place. A good marriage starts with two people who want the same thing for their future and can work well together. Those romantic notions of falling in love and fancying others—that goes away after some time. Your father and I love each other, but more importantly, we are happy with our family."
Dora found that her mother's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. The way Andromeda spoke, it seemed there would be no more elaboration of her love story.
"Does Claudius want to get married too?"
Andromeda relaxed and unclasped her hands. Her back and shoulders became loose and she returned to helping Madam Twilfitt with Dora's robes.
"No, not yet. Malcolm is older and he's more ready. Perhaps next year we'll be doing this again for Claudius."
Dora furrowed her brow and thought of some of the guests they were inviting. She gasped when she remembered Iris and her family, the Macmillans, were coming to dinner soon.
"Do you or Father want Malcolm to marry my friend Iris?" she asked, panicked.
Andromeda rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Your father wants to meet some of the parents of the girls in your dormitory. The Macmillans are an old family like ours."
Dora released a deep breath. Iris was much too good to be stuck with Malcolm Travers.
"Do I know anyone who's coming?"
"You've seen all the families before," Andromeda answered. "These dinners are good opportunities to get to know each other better."
The last set of robes went over Dora's head. They were the heaviest of all, so she begged her mother to charm them to make them lighter. Andromeda obliged and they came off, now feeling lighter than air. Dora jumped off the dais and redressed while her mother consulted with Madam Twilfitt for the final adjustments and payment.
Dora's mind was filled with thoughts of weddings as she followed her mother into Flourish and Blotts. She was reminded of her cousin Bellatrix, who would be married over the Easter holidays. She considered her brothers' temperaments and wondered who would agree to marry them. She contemplated her parents' marriage, questioning whether they were really in love.
Dora hadn't given much thought to romantic love before, but she hoped she would be in love when she got married. She imagined herself as a princess from a fairy tale. A handsome prince would come for her and she'd be happily in love with him. She looked up at her mother, who thumbed through a thick historical volume, likely a gift for her father. Unlike the fairy tales she liked reading, she had never seen her parents declare their love for each other. Sometimes Dora might see her mother kissing her father's cheek, or her father taking Andromeda's hand in his, but their affection never looked like the romantic gestures in fairy tales.
Maybe the kind of love Dora had read about in fairy tales wasn't real, she supposed. Her aunts and uncles didn't act like the heroes of her favorite stories; Auntie Burgie and Uncle Orion, Uncle Cygnus and Auntie Druella, and both sets of her grandparents, the Blacks and the Traverses, all had similar relationships. While Dora had turned her nose up at older students snogging each other senseless in the common room, maybe that was just the way it was for younger people. Perhaps when people grew up, they grew out of love.
"You're awfully quiet, Nymphadora," murmured Andromeda, now walking in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron after spending a comically large amount of coins at Honeydukes. "Knut for your thoughts?"
"I dunno," Dora replied, shrugging. "Do you think I'll fall in love one day?"
"I hope so, darling." Andromeda put her arm around Dora and squeezed her tightly. "But that's not something to worry about today. For now, what do you say about going into Muggle London and finishing our shopping there?"
Dora heartily agreed and held onto her mother's hand as they Apparated from an discreet spot outside the Leaky Cauldron to a narrow alleyway off a bustling street. It was dressed as merrily as Diagon Alley, but no one was wearing robes and all the shop signs were static.
The energy of the Muggle street was humming with its own magic and Dora felt the thrill of being somewhere new. She rarely got to go to Muggle places, and her mother suggested they visit a local café for lunch and tea.
A charming bistro caught their attention and Dora walked in, marveling at the festive decorations the Muggles had put up. Fairy-like lights were strung along the ceiling. A big tree with a golden star on top sat in the center of the bistro. It was decorated with colorful baubles and shiny garland and had its own multicolored lights.
"Mama, look—" Dora began. She turned around to find her mother standing across from a Muggle man, making conversation with him. His face was vaguely familiar but Dora couldn't place it. She glanced up and met the man's brilliant blue eyes.
"Mrs. Travers," he said, taking another glance at Dora, "it's nice to see you again."
"Hello, Healer Tonks," Andromeda replied evenly, her expression guarded. "You'll remember my daughter, Nymphadora?"
The mention of the Healer brought back the incident in August and the subsequent hunt for more clues. Dora had been so busy with school she'd forgotten to look into the picture she'd found of her mother and an unnamed Muggle friend.
"You're the one who fixed me in Diagon Alley!" Dora said excitedly, reminding herself to find out who her mother's friend had been. "You called me Miss Dora! All my friends call me Dora now!"
Healer Tonks bent down to look her in the eye and grinned. "Is it all right if I continue to call you Dora, and you call me Ted?"
"Okay, Ted!" Dora beamed. The Healer was as kind as the day she met him, and it felt grown-up to call him by his first name.
"Nymphadora," said Andromeda, "as we're already here, what do you think about inviting Healer Tonks to have lunch with us? Perhaps to thank him for helping you before?"
Dora gawked at her mother. That day in Diagon Alley, Andromeda had fled the scene as if she'd found a bloodied corpse in front of Eeylop's Owl Emporium. Until now, she'd almost forgotten how strange that interaction had been.
"This will stay between us," Andromeda murmured into Dora's ear. "It doesn't hurt to be generous with someone who helped you, even if it's someone your father wouldn't like."
Dora nodded at Andromeda, certain she was hearing incorrectly. As they were in a busy Muggle bistro, perhaps her mother didn't want to make a fuss over the Healer and turn him away. It wasn't as if there were other pureblood families looking on at them.
"Okay," she agreed quietly, peering over her mother's shoulder at Ted. He looked at her warmly, but kept a respectful distance.
"Let's find a place to sit," Andromeda said. The three of them found an open table near the counter. Dora sat with her Christmas parcels, expecting to wait by herself while the adults got lunch, but her mother went to the counter alone.
Ted sat across from her, eyeing her curiously. "What have you got in there?" he asked, pointing at the parcel.
"A sampler from Honeydukes," replied Dora. "One of my new friends is a Muggleborn and she's only had Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Beans. Mama said she would like this."
"Your mother is correct." He smiled softly and glanced back at Andromeda. "I'm a Muggleborn too."
"I know." Dora's voice got quiet. "Mama told me before. She says Muggleborns are just as good at magic, but no one else thinks so, except for Sirius."
"Who's Sirius?"
"My cousin. He's a Gryffindor. He was the only Black not to be a Slytherin until . . ."
"Until you?" asked Ted, his voice as gentle as it was the day she met him.
Dora showed off the badger pin on her cloak. "Sirius says Hufflepuffs are slow, but we're not. I've got top marks."
"Of course you do." He smiled at her, his brilliant blue eyes crinkling kindly. "I was a Hufflepuff. We're the friendliest of the lot and the hardest-working. That's why so many of us become Healers, and damn good ones too."
The memory of the Healer telling her he was a Hufflepuff came to mind. Dora felt a grin form on her face, which was returned even more brightly by Ted.
"Have you thought of what you'd like to be when you grow up, Dora?"
She shook her head. "I wish I could be a Magizoologist but my father says girls like me aren't supposed to work."
A dark look crossed Ted's features. "What's stopping you from trying?"
Dora shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked away.
"I'm sorry," Ted said quietly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's okay," Dora mumbled. It was like talking to Maisie, who didn't understand how hard it was to be a pureblood sometimes.
"Perhaps you can tell me about your favorite creatures?"
"Dragons! Did you know the Hungarian Horntail can breathe fire up to fifty feet? I saw one once at a magical menagerie—it was huge!"
Ted's smile returned. He continued asking questions about magical creatures, which were easy for Dora to answer. He seemed to be genuinely interested in hearing what she had to say; she reckoned that he was either a very clever wizard, who was skilled in feigning interest in her, or a very friendly one. The more he spoke, the more Dora was convinced it was the latter.
"Here we are," Andromeda announced, interrupting their questions. "Sandwiches, chips, and drinks . . . a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows for Nymphadora, a peppermint hot chocolate for Healer Tonks, and a tea for me."
"With a pinch of sugar and a splash of milk," Ted said quietly, as Andromeda nodded, turning pink. "By the way, you can call me Ted, Mrs. Travers."
"Please, call me Andromeda."
Dora watched her mother and Ted with increasing interest. Andromeda Travers was never this casual with anyone she just met. The atmosphere seemed to change, but Dora couldn't put her finger on what had taken place. There was a peculiar energy between the two of them that she had never seen before.
"What were you two discussing while I was away?" Andromeda asked, as Dora munched on her sandwich, her mind racing with questions she couldn't ask yet.
"Magical creatures," replied Ted. "Dora here is quite the expert on dragons and phoenixes."
"I like to read—"
"Nymphadora, close your mouth when you chew," Andromeda chided, sighing impatiently.
Dora hid her scowl and finished her bite. Ted covered his mouth, but by the way his shoulders shook, it looked like he was stifling a laugh.
"What's so funny?" Dora demanded.
"Nymphadora!"
"Andromeda, I don't mind," said Ted, chuckling. "Dora reminds me of someone I used to know." He flickered his eyes at Andromeda, who flushed deeply.
"Who?" Dora asked eagerly, intrigued by her mother's reaction.
"An old friend," Ted replied softly, "but we're not friends anymore." He peered at Andromeda again, but she'd turned to her tea.
Dora sat forward. "What happened to your friend?"
"Darling, that's too personal," Andromeda reproached quietly.
"It's all right, really." Ted put his chin in his hand and set his gaze on Dora. "Sometimes people grow apart. My friend and I . . . we had to go different ways in life."
"That's sad," Dora lamented. "You can't be friends anymore?"
"I'm afraid not," Ted said heavily, as Andromeda looked pointedly away. "You don't need to feel sorry for me, Dora. I have new friends now and they aren't going anywhere."
From the corner of her eye, Dora saw her mother wipe something from her eyes. Ted wasn't looking at Dora anymore, however. His gaze had landed on Andromeda.
"Do you miss your friend sometimes?" Dora pressed, her curiosity too piqued for politeness.
Ted set his gaze back on Dora, his eyes hard and sharp. "I did, long ago. Not anymore."
"Nymphadora," Andromeda said, strained, "we need to go."
"But Mama—"
"You can go," Ted muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should be going as well." He stood and offered his hand to Andromeda. "Thank you for everything."
"You're welcome." Andromeda's voice was at a whisper. The light in her eyes had faded, like they had at the robe shop, when Dora asked about her romance with her father.
"Dora—" Ted bent down, his gaze back to its previous warmth. "Perhaps I'll see you again sometime. Until then?" He stuck his hand out and Dora shook it, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu when she studied his face.
"Bye, Ted," she said shyly, and then her mother took her by the shoulder to continue their shopping.
The Traverses had hosted four dinners before Christmas Eve. They were on their fifth dinner, this time with the Bulstrodes, and Nymphadora kicked her legs back and forth in her armchair, clearly bored with the witches' conversation.
Andromeda sat next to Mrs. Gilbert Bulstrode, a woman with a long neck and strong forehead, engaging in a polite discussion on spring fashion. Giselle had a fondness for brooches, while her daughter, Eunice, contributed little to the casual chat.
"I like fun socks," Nymphadora commented, when there was a brief break in conversation. "My friend Iris got me socks with dragons on them for Christmas and they move! Mama, can I get them to show Mrs. Bulstrode and Miss Eunice?"
"Quite a spirited girl," Giselle murmured, with the edge of disapproval on her tongue.
"Actually, sweetheart," said Andromeda, "why don't you take Miss Eunice with you and show her around the house?" She turned to the girl in question. "Is that something you would like?"
Eunice, a timid girl, peeked at her mother for support. Giselle nodded and waved her off.
"Go on, my plum. Perhaps Miss Nymphadora can learn something from you."
Andromeda ignored the slight against her daughter's behavior and let the girls go. She was coming to dislike Giselle, but as Eunice was the best candidate for Malcolm's bride, she put up with the Bulstrode matriarch's behavior.
"If it's not too bold of me to ask," Andromeda ventured, "how does your daughter feel about everything so far?"
"Eunice is delicate, like a rare flower," Giselle said. "She wants to be plucked by the right wizard."
Andromeda tried not to laugh; she let her guilt quash her amusement. Eunice, while shy, was not what she would call delicate. The twenty year old was shapely and reminded Andromeda of a mastiff, what with the certain somberness in the way she carried herself. She knew it was cruel to think of the girl in this way, but years of growing up in her own noble-looking family had given her a sharp tongue and even harsher sense of judgment.
"Malcolm is a good son," Andromeda said, attempting to mimic Giselle's inflated estimation of her daughter's nature. "He is careful with his allowance, makes intelligent connections, and cares deeply for his family. He would be a good husband to Eunice, as his father is a good husband to me."
"Andromeda," said Giselle, arching a brow at her and sneering, "we all know that you were meant for Rosier, but he wouldn't have you. Travers took you off your father's hands . . . rumor had it that you were whoring yourself out to a Mudblood. We all know what Byron is like and what he'd do with a fallen woman like you. Don't lie to my face to get my daughter to marry your son and have you as a mother-in-law."
Andromeda inhaled sharply and readied herself for battle. Her fingers closed around the handle of the dagger she kept tied around her thigh, the engraved handle giving her strength and reminding her of her place.
"Allow me to correct your understanding, Mrs. Bulstrode. I chose Byron over Edwin Rosier. He needed me as a wife more than Edwin did. Excuse me for having compassion for a widower and his two motherless sons. I was indeed foolish as a girl and fancied a Mudblood, but it went no further than idle daydreams and adolescent melodrama. My father would never have permitted me to return to his house if I'd sullied myself. As for Byron, he did not marry a fallen woman. He is a devoted husband, and if you continue to spread any slander against him, I will tell him that your family is unsuitable. It isn't as if Eunice has wizards lined up for her, is it? Unless you'd like your delicate flower all to yourself for the rest of her natural days, I would strongly reconsider your opinions."
Her lip curled triumphantly as Giselle's face fell. A thrill rushed through Andromeda at her victory, even as a wave of guilt washed over her conscience.
"Byron Travers is a model husband," said Giselle, her attitude shifting quickly to something more conciliatory. "His son will be like him."
"That's correct." Andromeda took a sip of her silver needles tea and set her cup down with a soft clink . "Eunice would be lucky to bear the surname Travers."
The unmistakable sound of skipping reached Andromeda's ears. Nymphadora returned, pink faced and grinning, with a shyly smiling Eunice at her side.
"Mama, I took Miss Eunice to the kitchen and Goldie made us hot chocolate! She said it was the best she'd ever had, right?" Eunice nodded, the small smile still on her face. Nymphadora added, "Otto came with us and Tippy gave him clotted cream. You should've seen how cute he was with his whiskers all covered in cream!"
Andromeda flashed a proud smirk at Giselle. Though her daughter could be impertinent, her infectious joy drew others out of their shell.
Mutual understanding was communicated in a shared glance. If the matriarchs got their way, Malcolm and Eunice would be husband and wife. Andromeda, needing a conquest after the agonizing lunch with Ted, was finally able to sleep well that night.