Chapter 9- Oyster Plant ~ Rain and Sunshine Made the Flower Grow
It was finally Sunday.
The A12 from London had no traffic, but Eva supposed that that was because it was just after seven-thirty in the morning. She and Pippa had long since left the tall skyscrapers of London behind and were now surrounded by endless fields of verdant green grass, the occasional grove or farm passing them by.
The drive thus far had been silent. Pippa had wanted to listen to the rebroadcast of a tribute concert dedicated to Princess Diana, but Eva nixed the idea. Not only did she think the British monarchy was horribly outdated, but it was yet another reminder of death, one she didn't need while on the way to her brother's and niece's graves.
"Will Andromeda be at the cemetery?" Pippa asked from the passenger's seat. She'd curled her hair for the occasion and was wearing a simple black dress suit.
"I don't know," Eva replied, braking slightly as they came to a curve in the road. "I doubt it though."
She thought back to how upset and pale her sister-in-law had been when they read Ted's and Dora's wills a few days ago. She'd looked so fragile, like she could break into a million pieces at any moment. Andromeda's reticence in answering Pippa's very same question when Eva had posed it to her had not been surprising either.
Pippa let out a long, palpably disappointed sigh. Eva briefly glanced at her and rolled her eyes. "Really, Pippa?" she grumbled.
"I'm sorry, Eva, but I just don't understand that woman," she stated. "I'd think she'd want to go and visit them."
"Not everyone grieves the same way," Eva said. "Millie, me, my parents… all of us are experiencing it differently,"
Pippa stretched her arms above her head. "I find Andromeda kind of weird and off-putting," she replied. "For a variety of reasons, not just the magic bit."
"You're only saying that because you're still convinced that she tried to poison you."
"She did, though!"
"No, that one time we visited you were complaining of joint pain- incessantly so, as I recall- so she gave you acanthus leaf tea. A perfectly normal remedy in Southeast Asia, I might add."
Pippa tapped a finger against the window. "I stand by my opinion, even if you don't agree," she proclaimed.
Eva muttered a protest under her breath as she accelerated down the empty highway. Any further discussion on the topic would cease to be productive. Andromeda's idiosyncrasies had always been a point of contention between her and Pippa, and Eva would likely never convince her that Andromeda wasn't an evil witch who wanted to poison her.
"Look, let's drop it for now, okay?" Eva asked. "Just keep your mouth shut in front of Millie and my parents if Andromeda doesn't show up. They love her and are willing to give her a bit more grace about all this than you are."
"And if that's true, it really just proves that the only reason your parents hate me is because I'm a woman."
Shocked at Pippa's statement, Eva swerved into the opposite lane, grateful that the road was empty and they hadn't hit another vehicle. She was in no mood to deal with Pippa's sour and cranky mood right now, not when she was bogged down with the cemetery visit, the painting of her niece, and worrying about her sister-in-law and grandnephew.
"I'm not doing this with you today," Eva snapped, shooting a sharp glare at her. "If you plan on continuing to be a jerk, let me know so I can drop you off somewhere in downtown Colchester."
"I'm just telling the truth," Pippa said matter-of-factly.
"No, you're being an arsehole," she replied. "That's why my parents don't like you, Pippa, not because they're homophobic. You also don't help yourself by loudly stating that you refuse to give them grandchildren. And you routinely joke that we should move to Norway to register for a domestic partnership."
"That last one's only half a joke, my dear."
Eva ignored her. "Really, you need to stop projecting your own parents' homophobia onto mine," she continued. "I get that you're still hurting all these years later, but you can't lash out at Mum and Dad for things they didn't do. It might actually benefit you to talk to Andromeda. She was disowned by her family, just like you."
Pippa mumbled something unintelligible, but Eva wasn't listening. Instead, her thoughts wandered back into the past about fifteen years ago, to when she had gathered up the courage to tell her family that she liked women in a non-platonic way.
The first person she'd told was Ted, and by extension, Andromeda, since those two had no secrets from each other.
"I'm happy for you, Eva," her brother had said with a dazzling smile. "And I'll always support you. You should be able to love whomever you want. It's like that in the wizarding world. The lack of acceptance of people like you in the Muggle world is barbaric by comparison."
Andromeda was similarly supportive, but a bit apprehensive.
"I wish the best for you," she had said. "I apologize if I come off as strange. While gay and lesbian marriages have been accepted and legal in the wizarding world for centuries, I grew up in a household where it was not considered appropriate, since those unions cannot normally produce children. I never agreed with that sentiment, obviously. I'm glad you've decided to be open about it with us."
Millie had given her a giant hug when Eva had told her. Dad had assured her that he loved her and joked that her liking women wasn't nearly as strange as Ted's magic tricks or Dora's constantly changing appearance. Mum had been surprised, very clearly not knowing what to do with this new information.
"I just hope that you don't plan on spending the rest of your life with that Pippa girl," she'd finally said. "She's frosty and has an inappropriately dark sense of humor."
Needless to say, Mum had not been thrilled to learn that she had, in fact, been in a relationship with Pippa since their university days. She might be brash, but Pippa was loving, supportive, fiercely independent, and put up with Eva's long nights painting and early mornings swimming, hobbies that most of her other girlfriends had had little patience for. And she seemed to take the whole "brother having magical powers" thing in decent stride, which was more than Eva had expected from someone as serious and practical as her.
"Hey, Eva?" Pippa asked, dragging Eva back from her thoughts of the past to the present.
"What's up, Pip?" she replied as she turned the car onto the exit for Colchester.
"I'd like to ask you a possibly rude question."
Eva sighed, resigning herself to the fact that Pippa was likely going to be rude and brash all day. "What is it?" she begrudgingly inquired.
"Do you think that Ted would still be around if he'd married someone else?" she asked curtly, though not unkindly. "Someone more normal? Or from a non-magical family like him?"
Eva clenched the steering wheel; she'd wondered the very same thing many times throughout the past year. But given what Andromeda and Dora had told her about the casualties of their world's war, she had no reason to believe that his choice in wife would have made any difference in the long run. When Eva considered her younger brother's ex-girlfriend- the muggleborn girl he'd dated prior to Andromeda- she thought that it could have been so much worse. Both of them would have had to go on the run with any children they might have had, and possibly, all of them would have died.
And then there was the fact that Ted's ex-girlfriend hadn't exactly been Eva's favorite person.
"I don't know, Pippa," she replied sadly, adjusting her front mirror to block the ascending sun from blind her. "But I don't think so, not when so many people died. And you should be careful what you wish for- Ted actually did date a 'normal' girl from his school once. I didn't like her at all."
"Really?" Pippa exclaimed with surprise, sitting forward in her seat. "You must really despise her- you've never mentioned her in the twenty years we've been together. Who was she? What was she like?"
"Her name was Melanie," Eva said dispassionately, an acrid taste filling her mouth as she said her name. "A farm girl from the Midlands. She was in the same circle of friends as Ted, but other than that, they didn't seem to have much in common. She wasn't interested in any of his hobbies or interests at all. In fact, she seemed to put all of them down. For whatever reason though, she wanted to be his girlfriend, and she was pretty jealous when Ted thought fondly of other girls. I found Melanie quite superficial and capricious, to be honest with you."
Pippa leaned against the car window and sighed again. "If they had nothing in common, why did Ted date her?"
"My personal opinion? She was a convenient snog. I think Ted led her on a little bit, convinced himself that he loved her, and in the end, was afraid to break it off when he realized they would never work. She actually dumped him, if you can believe it."
"Why?"
"Ted never told me. He refused to talk about it, so I can really only guess."
"Please guess away, my dear."
Eva groaned, drumming her fingers on the side of the steering wheel. "I think toward the end of the relationship, he started to fancy Andromeda," she supplied. "And Melanie found out and wasn't happy."
She saw a line of cars in front of her stopped at a traffic light, and she braked, halting behind them. "She supposedly regretted ending their relationship," Eva continued. "Ted told me that after he got with Andromeda, she tried to interfere and win him back."
"Sounds like a teenage drama program, alright," Pippa snorted, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Do you know what happened to her in the end? Did she end up happily married with three children and a doting husband to take care of the family farm?"
"Hardly," Eva replied. "She apparently never got over Ted. He told me that she never married or anything like that. You know how he worked for a magical sports radio station?"
"Vaguely. I still don't really understand what Quidditch is."
"Well, I guess that after Melanie graduated, she became a journalist for the big newspaper over there… The Weekly Sorcerer? The Evening Prophet? Can't remember the name. But I guess that there were a couple events every year that both of them were invited to. Ted said that she made them hell for him."
"How so? Couldn't he just ignore her?" Pippa asked curiously. Eva did not like how invested her partner was in her brother's love life as if it were a weekly drama program; Eva found it bizarre and absurd, and made her miss Ted even more.
"Going out of her way to talk to him when he wasn't interested, flirting with him, stuff like that," she answered, brushing a strand of golden hair out of her eyes. "She seemed to be under the impression that if she was persistent enough, that he'd leave Andromeda and Nymphadora and run off with her. Or at least, that's how Ted viewed it."
"That's right stupid of her," Pippa chuckled wryly. "Ted and Andromeda are the most disgustingly lovey-dovey couple I know. And they love their daughter more than anything else."
The light turned green, and Eva's vision blurred as she thought about her deceased family. Blinking away tears, she fiddled with the car's cassette player. She didn't know what tape was in there or what part of the song it was at, but she didn't care. All she wanted was the music to be loud enough so that the conversation could be over.
The car behind her honked. Eva accelerated, letting her thoughts melt into the vibrant Motown melody that now filled the car as she mindlessly drove down the familiar streets of Colchester to their destination.
A touch of rain and sunshine made the flower grow,
Into a lovely smile that's blooming,
And it's so clear to me that you're a dream come true,
There's no way that I'll be losing.
If only the rain and sunshine could make them all come back, she thought to herself. That really would be a dream come true.
Roughly quarter of an hour later, they arrived at the cemetery. Mum, Dad, and Millie were already waiting for them at the gates, dressed in their Sunday best, or in Millie's case, normal viscountess attire. Eva felt uncomfortable as she approached them. Both cemeteries and churches caused her to become uneasy and made her feel like she was an outsider, the former because she was a living person roaming among the dead and the latter for the lack of tolerance that religious people often held for people like her.
"Eva, Pippa," Dad greeted somberly, running his hand through his thin white hair. "Glad to see you made it." Beside him, Millie smiled and nodded. Her dark blonde curls were pulled up into a messy bun and she was holding three large bouquets of flowers in her hands: one of sunflowers, one of tulips, and one of lupines.
"It's good to see you lot," Eva responded, not really knowing what to say. "Millie, did you solve your electrician problem?"
Her little sister shook her head. "Not yet, unfortunately."
"Shall we go in?" Mum suggested. There was a small frown on her face and her graying brown hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, similar to Eva's. Her eyes were slightly puffier than normal, a sign that she had been crying.
Pippa twirled a lock of her hair around her pointer finger. "You want to go in now? Aren't we missing someone?" she asked brusquely. Eva groaned under her breath.
Mum glared at Pippa disapprovingly. "Andromeda will not be joining us today," she said, her disappointment evident. "Teddy has a bit of a cold, and she thought it best to stay home with him."
"Of course she did," Pippa muttered so only Eva could hear. She shot an annoyed glance at Pippa, and Pippa rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll shut up," she promised.
They traversed the short distance from the entrance of the cemetery to where their family in silence. As they approached, Eva noted that the grass in front of the three graves was still shorter than those surrounding them, an unwanted reminder that the losses of her brother, niece, and nephew-in-law were still so recent. Their gray stones were crisp and bright with legible inscriptions, a jarring contrast with the darker stones in the vicinity that were so weathered that they were practically unreadable. In fact, most things about the cemetery were gray and blurry: the stones, the inscriptions, the metal gate, the dirt of the freshly dug graves a few rows down, and even the sky.
Eva stopped directly in front of Dora's and Remus' graves and watched as Millie gracefully placed the tulip and lupine bouquets in front of their headstone. She then slipped between the rows to place the remaining sunflower bouquet on Ted's. Millie sat down in front of their brother's grave and began to softly, yet cheerfully, talk to him. Although she was too far away to hear exactly what her sister was saying, Eva caught the words "children," "lightbulb," and "explosion," giving her a fair guess as to the contents of the one-sided conversation.
Mum and Dad wandered in between the two rows where their family was. Mum had begun crying, and Dad was holding her tightly to his chest, silent tears falling down his face. Eva turned her gaze to Dora's grave, so as to give her parents some privacy in their grief.
She felt Pippa take her hand. Eva looked at her, surprised at her partner's pained expression. "I'm so sorry for being an arse today," she mumbled, entwining her fingers with Eva's. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to say or how I'm supposed to act. I miss them all too."
Eva nodded, but didn't respond. She didn't know how to at that moment. Instead, she looked at the fine stonework on Dora's and Remus' headstone. Vines and flowers were carved along the edges, so realistic that Eva could almost convince herself that they were swaying in the slight breeze. They hadn't been carved with magic though; Eva had been the one to commission her niece's headstone, asking a stone mason friend of hers to complete the task. Andromeda had put up surprisingly little resistance to this idea, which Eva suspected was due to a combination of her grief and insistence on handling everyone's estates all by herself.
Her heart sank as she read Dora's name on the stone. Her niece's life had been so short, book-ended by wars that most people on the planet would never know about. Even though she'd lived to be twenty-five, she was so young that Eva hardly thought she'd lived at all. Instead, her bubbly and brave niece had died a hero before truly growing up and discovering herself. She might have been an adult with a family of her own, but to Eva, she would always be her cute little baby niece that was always making trouble.
Dora hadn't deserved to have her life ripped from her at such a young age. And Ted and Remus hadn't deserved any of the terrible prejudices they suffered in what was supposed to be a more enlightened and civilized magical society.
And then there was poor Teddy, who was never going to know Dora, Remus, and Ted beyond photographs, the objects they left behind, and stories that Eva and the rest of their family told him. Her grandnephew was never going to get to learn any of his mother's techniques for controlling and manipulating her appearance or be able to glean any sage advice about life from his father. He would never learn terrible and corny jokes from Ted. Teddy would only ever know one-dimensional versions of his parents and grandfather based on his interpretation of the information about them he received from others. He was never going to learn who they really were.
Suddenly, Eva realized that there was an obvious solution to the problem of the painting of Dora and Remus that sat unclaimed in her studio: she could give it to Teddy.
It wasn't the same as actually knowing them, but the fact that Ted had commissioned it for Dora's birthday when he thought he might not come home said something about who her brother was. And while a painting of Dora and Remus could never be as realistic as a magical photograph, Eva thought that the frozen image in the painting captured more of their essence than the artificial beings that imitated human action that lived in wizarding pictures. Teddy could learn something about the people who had left him behind by looking at the painting and understanding its story, and that was more than enough reason for Eva to gift it to him.
She decided that she would approach Andromeda with the idea, letting her hold onto the painting until Teddy was old enough to decide what he wanted to do with it. Or, if that was too painful for her, Eva would be the picture's custodian for the time being, her own feelings be damned.
Feeling a lot lighter, Eva squeezed Pippa's hand before breaking away, deciding that she too would have a little chat with Dora and Remus- and once Millie was done, one with Ted too- to tell them all about the painting and her plans for it.
I stood over Nymphadora's bed holding a Muggle thermometer, its silvery liquid informing me that my seven-year-old had a very high fever. There were, of course, spells that would tell me in an instant if she had a temperature; unlike the thermometer, none of them would tell me precisely how high it was, which I wanted to know in case we needed to take her to a Healer.
I had been at work when I received a note from Ted saying that our daughter had very suddenly fallen ill, and he wasn't sure what was wrong or if he should take her to St. Mungo's. From how messy his handwriting was, I could tell that he was frantic and scared. Fearing the worst, I immediately returned home.
Fortunately, one look at her told me all I needed to know about her condition and eased my fears. I glanced down at my uncharacteristically sleepy and lethargic daughter, her blue webbed ears and the constellations of teal spots on her cheeks an obvious indication as to what was ailing her.
"You have Merpox," I told her. "It's a common illness that causes a high fever and webbed ears. I got it when I was about your age too."
Nymphadora pulled her floral quilt up over her face. "Am I going to die?" she asked.
"What?" I exclaimed, taken aback. "Of course not! Why would you even think that?"
She pulled the blanket away from her face, but her eyes were downcast. "Daddy looked really scared earlier when he saw my ears," she explained quietly. "He was saying I would be okay, but I could tell he doesn't know what's wrong with me."
I sighed. This was not the first time this had happened. Placing the thermometer on Nymphadora's bedside table, I summoned the small chair from her desk and sat down next to the head of her bed.
"You know how Gran and Grandpa are Muggles?" I asked, gently stroking her brown hair. Nymphadora nodded. "Well, Daddy grew up with only Muggles until he went to Hogwarts. So sometimes he doesn't know things about magical things because he wasn't around them when he was younger."
"You mean like how you don't know to use a lot of the things in Gran's house?" my daughter exclaimed. "Because you didn't grow up with them?"
"Exactly like that," I beamed, smoothing her hair again. She let out a small cough. "Okay, I'm going to go and make you a potion to make you feel a bit better. Rest up for the time being, alright?"
Too tired to protest, Nymphadora nodded and closed her eyes. I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and moved the chair back to its proper place before heading downstairs.
Ted was in the kitchen, nervously pacing in front of the sink as he ran his hand through his hair.
"She's going to be fine," I reassured him as I walked over to the cabinet that held our potion ingredients. "She has Merpox. It's kind of like Muggle chicken pox. Most witches and wizards get it when they're young. You can only get it once."
My husband's face instantly relaxed. "Thank God," he sighed with relief. "But I thought dragon pox was the one like chicken pox?"
"They're both similar," I said as I opened the cabinet and started placing jars of acanthus leaves, holly berries, and other various ingredients on the counter. "But dragon pox is the much more dangerous of the two."
"I see," Ted replied, leaning against the counter. "So we don't have to take her to St. Mungo's?"
I shook my head. "No," I answered, opening the first of the jars and grabbing a knife and cutting board. "We just have to wait for the virus to pass, which will probably take a few days. There's a potion we can make to ease her symptoms, though. I'll brew a cauldronful of it. Set up the burner for me, please?"
"Of course. How much water do you need?"
"Fill the cauldron halfway, please."
Ted placed the half-full cauldron on the lit burner and let out another long sigh. "I was really worried about Nymphadora, Dromeda," he said, his voice trembling. "I was so scared."
I stopped chopping and put the knife down. "I know," I replied gently, turning to face my husband. His beautiful blue-gray eyes were full of fear. "Nymphadora could tell you were afraid too," I whispered.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak her out and make her even more scared," he said sheepishly. "She must be feeling really awful though. Not only is she too tired to change her appearance, but she didn't fight back when I told her to lie down. And she kept asking for you."
"Well, yeah, Ted. She realized that you had no clue what was happening to her. It's not your fault though, and Nymphadora knows that."
"I know," Ted said, moving over from the cauldron and burner to stand next to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder. "But even if I did know what was going on, she's feeling so terrible that she would have asked for you anyway."
It was true; even though Nymphadora was a daddy's girl through and through, when something was really wrong, she wanted me.
I sighed and went back to chopping. "Merpox is highly contagious," I stated. "Who was she playing with yesterday?"
"The Weasley boys and the Diggory girl."
"We'd better owl them to let them know about Nymphadora," I said. "Although at this point, they've all probably come down with Merpox too."
"I'll do it before I head to work," Ted offered. "Ringo smashed into the window after delivering the letter to you earlier, but he seems fine."
"That owl is an idiot. I still cannot believe you convinced me it would be a good idea to take him in."
"Hey, he literally crashed into our lives, and we needed a new owl anyway. And he's super young, so he'll be around for a long time."
"I miss Daphne. That owl was smarter than most people."
"She sure was, Dromeda. I miss her too. She lived a long life with a family who loved her dearly."
I slowly exhaled as I thought about my old owl who had died the previous spring. "Anyway," I said, turning back to the matter at hand. "You should owl the Weasleys and Diggory's soon. And you should let your work know that you won't be coming in either."
Ted frowned. "What do you mean by that?" he asked. "Why wouldn't I go to work?"
I brushed his silky gold hair behind his ear, revealing a few teal spots underneath his temple. "Unless you've decided to draw things on your face, you're starting to show symptoms of Merpox too," I said. "In several hours, you'll be just as sick as Nymphadora."
"Great," he sarcastically grumbled. "I'll let everyone know. You can't get it, since you've already had it, right?"
I nodded as I finely chopped some acanthus leaves.
Ted grinned mischievously and kissed me deeply, seemingly unfazed by the fact that I was holding a sharp implement. "Well, Dromeda, Nymphadora and I will be at your mercy for the next few days," he smirked. "I guess we'll see just how much of an evil snake you are. Now's your chance to poison us without anyone knowing!"
Placing the knife on the cutting board, I rolled my eyes at him and crossed my arms in front of my chest. The fact that my husband was in good enough spirits to joke was a sign that his fears had been alleviated, but it was only a matter of time before he came down with a fever as well. Hopefully, I could get the potion done before then, ensuring that Ted would avoid some of the symptoms. As an adult, Merpox would be much worse for him than for Nymphadora.
"I'll take good care of you two," I promised.
Ted kissed me again. "I know you will," he whispered. "You always do."
"Well, you were right," Alex said to me. "Teddy has Merpox."
I nodded in acknowledgment. We were at St. Mungo's, where Alex sometimes saw his patients for check-ups. The room we were in was somewhat cramped. The examination bed took up a good third of the room while a large desk, leather chair, and several large metal objects reminiscent of torture devices lined the rest of its perimeter. The sickly green walls were adorned with numerous posters with pain scales, notices detailing the early symptoms of ailments like Spattergroit and dragon pox, and public service announcements on the toxicity of various potions ingredients. Teddy was in his carrier on the examination bed, sleepy and quiet as Alex cast spells over him and poked and prodded at his webbed ears.
"When did this start?" Alex asked, stowing his wand away.
"He began acting strange on Saturday night, crying constantly and not changing his appearance at all," I answered. "Teddy must have picked this up when we were in Diagon Alley the day before. I noticed his ears on Sunday before we were supposed to see Ted's family. I've not a clue if Muggles can catch Merpox, so we stayed home."
Not that I really wanted to go to the cemetery with them anyway, I thought to myself, feeling ashamed of my continued inability to visit my husband and child.
"Better safe than sorry. Muggles can't get Merpox, but it was good of you to keep Teddy home," Alex said. "Keep giving him potions to ease his symptoms, and he'll be back to normal in a couple of days."
"I will," I promised.
"I've also taken the liberty of casting the normal check-up spells on him," he continued, tugging on the sleeve of his lime-green robes. "Teddy's healthy, but a bit small for his age. Is he taking Milk Potions or Muggle formula? Or something else?"
"A combination of both," I said. "He goes through phases with what he wants more. Right now, it's formula."
Alex nodded. "Keep at it then. But now-" he replied, patting the empty space on the examination bed next to Teddy, "-it's your turn for a check-up."
I scoffed. This was not why we were here. "There's really no need," I insisted. "I'm fine."
"Andromeda, you skipped your yearly physical in March, not that I blame you for that. But unless you came in to see another Healer while I was trapped in Italy- which there's no record of in your paperwork- you're overdue for a check-up yourself."
I glared at my friend. He patted the examination bed again. "I can wait all day, Andromeda," he added, puffing up his chest. "I'm not letting you leave until you let me examine you."
Both of us were horribly stubborn, and us waiting hours for the other to capitulate to the other's desires was not an unrealistic outcome. However, I didn't think that spending the whole day at St. Mungo's would be fair to Teddy, especially since he was unwell. Alex was absolutely counting on me giving in for my grandson's sake. Reluctantly, I sat next to Teddy on the bed; I refused to use himas a pawn in this game.
Alex performed several diagnostic spells on me before walking over to a metal device in the corner of the room that looked like a cash register. After a moment, it spit out a piece of parchment, which Alex deftly caught one-handed.
"Well, apart from the issues arising from what happened in April 1973, you're in perfect health," he muttered as he read the document. "You're still taking the tincture of-"
"Yes," I interrupted, answering his unfinished question. Anger rose within me, thrashing about my insides like a caged serpent. Why was I cursed with being healthy when almost everyone else was dead? What was the point of living a long life when almost everyone I loved could no longer experience it with me?
"Good," Alex said, sitting in a leather chair opposite from me. "However, I'd like to make a recommendation to you about something."
"What?" I spat, adjusting Teddy's blanket so that it covered him better.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I think you would really benefit from seeing a Mind Healer," he said. "I know you, Andromeda, you shield your feelings from almost everyone. But bottling up your emotions about what happened to your family won't help anyone, least of all you. Go talk to a professional. I'm recommending this to all my patients who've lost someone, by the way, not just you. I'm seeing one too. If you want a referral-"
"No thank you," I interjected. I knew that Alex meant well, but his suggestion that I needed help angered me. I'd spent my whole life guarding my emotions; I wasn't about to dismantle the walls that protected my psyche and let a literal stranger in to judge my actions based on their myopic world view.
"I'm perfectly fine," I continued. "Other people might think I'm crazy or about to wither away, but I'm not. They just don't like that I'm not acting the way they expect me to or that I won't tell them my inner feelings and secrets when they ask. It's the story of my life, Alex. You've known me long enough by now to understand that."
Alex and I glared at each other again, the clock on the wall loudly ticking. Over a minute passed without us speaking. Finally, my friend backed down.
"Fine," he conceded, his brow furrowed in disapproval. "But the offer stands in case you want to take me up for a referral later."
Teddy made a small sound, so I took him out of his carrier and held him close. "I don't think I'll take you up on it," I said as I stroked my grandson's sandy hair. "But thank you."
Alex drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Unless you have any more questions about Merpox or Mind Healers, you're free to go," he stated.
"Thank you for seeing Teddy on such short notice," I replied, placing my grandson back in the carrier and tucking the blanket around him. He had fallen asleep again. "I really am grateful."
"It's no trouble," he said, waving his hand in front of him dismissively. "Actually, now that I think of it, can you do me a favor?"
"Of course. What is it?" I asked.
"Can you harvest some holly berries from Ted's garden for me? If Merpox is going around, I want to have a bunch of the potion to relieve its symptoms on hand. The main greenhouse in Feldcroft that grows holly for most of England was destroyed the same day as the battle at Hogwarts. Prices for holly are through the roof."
The fact that the destruction caused during final battle was impacting something as mundane as potion ingredients supply chains saddened me. It was going to take years for everyday life to return to normal. "Yes, of course I can give you some," I said. "How much do you need? I assume you have some in your personal stores already?"
Alex grimaced. "I don't have any," he sighed. "Laura came over last week and raided my ingredients cabinet. She took a bunch of stuff, including the holly."
"Why did she do that?" I asked, confused by our friend's actions. "Laura doesn't have the patience to make most potions."
"No clue," he shrugged. "She mentioned something about going to Russia for Order business later in the year, so I assume she needs to make potions for that. Super inconvenient for me though."
"Can't you ask her not to take your ingredients? She can buy her own."
"You really think that Laura listens to me? She's more likely to listen to you."
I picked up Teddy's carrier from the examination bed and gently pushed myself off of it. "Well, regardless of Laura's plans for your potions supplies, I'll give you some holly," I said. "But she's hellbent on tracking down all the remaining Death Eaters that escaped, isn't she? I wonder why she thinks any of them are in Russia."
Alex shrugged. "Beats me," he replied. "She didn't tell me her reasoning, not that that's surprising. Anyway, see you around, Andromeda. Thanks in advance for the holly. And think about what I said about the Mind Healer, okay?"
I nodded. "Of course," I said extremely unconvincingly. "Thanks again."
With a wave goodbye, I left St. Mungo's with Teddy, determined to process my feelings on my own.
A couple of days later, shortly after Harry had come by to pick up a fully rested and healthy Teddy, my doorbell rang. Through the peephole in the door, I saw my sister-in-law carrying a wrapped canvas that was as long as I was tall. Why she'd brought a painting to my house was a mystery to me, but through the distorted view of her in the peephole, I could tell she was extremely nervous, shifting around and tapping her foot.
"Eva," I softly greeted as I opened the door. "Please, come in."
Wordlessly, she followed me into the living room.
"Nice roses," she said anxiously, gesturing to a bouquet of the crimson blooms that sat unceremoniously on its side on my coffee table. I groaned. Ringo had slammed into the kitchen window with the flowers earlier that morning. I had not been pleased about it. All I wanted was one day without a visible reminder that my husband was dead.
"They're from one of Ted's old bosses," I explained. "He sends them every now and then."
Eva crinkled her nose. "That's a bit odd, don't you think?" she remarked. "Red roses aren't exactly a flower you send to your subordinate's wife."
"They're actually very traditional Muggle grieving flowers, although the custom of giving them is over a century old," I explained. "I don't think Ted's boss has any romantic interest in me, if that's what you're worried about."
"Good. Although I don't have any objections to you dating someone else eventually, by the way. Mum will probably be sad, but it's not really any of her business."
"You don't have to worry about that, Eva. I have no desire to get into any romantic relationships ever again. Ted was the only one for me."
I sighed as tears began forming in my eyes. "A-Anyway, Ted's boss is actually kind of a family friend," I continued. "He was romantically involved with my mother when they were in school."
Eva's jaw fell to the floor. "That's… I… What?!" she stammered. "So your mother's ex-boyfriend was Ted's boss? There's got to be a story there."
"Not a particularly happy one, I'm afraid," I frowned, shaking my head as Ted's boss' perpetually sad face came into my mind. "Anyway, how did Sunday go? I take it that Pippa didn't cause too much trouble for everyone?"
"Less than normal, surprisingly. Mum only glared at her twice," she replied, pushing her golden hair over her shoulder as she sat down in the pink armchair. She leaned the canvas against the table. "Although we all missed you there."
I involuntarily shuddered. "I'm sorry," I replied quietly. "I know you think I was skiving off. But Teddy really was very ill with a common childhood magical malady. I actually took him to the hospital on Monday to get looked at. He's all better now, but I didn't want to get any of you lot sick by exposing you to a magical sickness."
My sister-in-law's stormy eyes narrowed on me. "I believe you," she said. "But no offense, Andie, I don't think you would have shown up anyway."
I turned away from her and stared out the window at the trees blowing in the breeze. Eva wasn't wrong; I probably would have made some sort of excuse to get out of visiting the cemetery. It was too painful right now, and the mere thought of stepping foot in that graveyard filled me with so much dread that I could hardly breathe. I didn't know how long it would take for me to mentally prepare myself to visit my family ther. All I wanted right now was to grieve alone, a luxury that I was repeatedly being denied.
"You can't remain inside yourself forever, Andromeda," Eva said softly.
"I'm not," I protested weakly. "I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?"
She pursed her lips at me and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Look, just phone Mum and Dad when you get a chance, okay?" she sighed exasperatedly. "They really were hoping you'd be there."
"I will," I promised, guilt seeping through me and causing my stomach to churn. "Anyway, what brings you here? Does it have anything to do with this painting you brought?"
Eva nodded, her demeanor of disapproval morphing back to one of anxiety. She jumped up from her chair and began unwrapping the canvas, her fingers shaking so violently that it took her several tries to fully unpack it. Once she was finished, she held it up for me.
It was an oil painting of Nymphadora and Remus on their wedding day surrounded by tangled vines and blooming flowers, set in a golden frame embellished with leaves that reminded me of the ones that adorned the tops of Muggle columns found in ancient ruins. The colors were vibrant, and the strokes of Eva's paintbrush were vivid, almost giving the illusion that Nymphadora and Remus could move, just like in magical paintings. It was beautiful and uplifting, poignantly capturing one of the most joyful moments of my life.
"Oh, Eva…" I mumbled, at a loss for words.
"T-Ted commissioned it before he ran off," she explained, her voice quivering. "It was supposed to be Dora's birthday present. He wanted her to have one last gift in case he didn't make it back."
Tears began forming in my eyes. Even while dealing with the stress of preparing to go on the run, Ted had been thinking of the rest of us.
"I was thinking of giving the painting to Teddy," my sister-in-law continued. "That way he can have something of his parents from his grandfather, made by his great-aunt."
"Yes," I immediately replied, wiping away my tears. I wholeheartedly approved of this idea. "Yes, Teddy should have this painting."
"I can hang onto it for you until Teddy's old enough for it," she said quickly. "I understand that looking at this might be really difficult-"
I shook my head. "No, it should be here for him to see," I responded. "Yes, seeing it will be hard, but this painting isn't about me. It's about Teddy and Ted and Nymphadora and Remus."
Eva nodded, her face softening. "Yes, it is," she whispered.
I motioned for Eva to follow me upstairs. Painting in tow, we went into the nursery, stopping in front of Teddy's crib.
"There," I said, pointing at the large empty space on the dove gray wall above the crib. "Let's hang it there."
My sister-in-law frowned at me. "Is it safe to put a nail there?" she asked. "I don't want the painting to fall on Teddy while he's sleeping."
Wordlessly, I levitated the painting to the proper height. "Can you please hold the painting against the wall?" I asked Eva as I stepped out of the way. "You're much taller than me, so it'll be easier for you to do it."
Clearly confused, Eva moved in front of me and held the painting in place. Nonverbally, I cast a Sticking Charm on it.
"There," I said. "You can let go."
Eva complied and took several steps back to where I was. "This was the right choice," she mumbled. "It's perfect here. I shouldn't have second-guessed myself about what to do with it."
I nodded politely, although I wasn't exactly sure what she meant. "Now his parents can look down at him in a way," I reassured her.
"It's not the same thing," Eva sighed. "Not even close."
She was right. It wasn't the same thing at all. "No," I agreed. "But it will have to be good enough."
And even though they weren't here to say it themselves, I knew that Ted, Nymphadora, and Remus would agree.
Thank you to NeuroCat for the review! I'm glad you found the chapter enjoyable. You've picked up on an intentional character flaw that Eva has- she's a bit myopic in her worldview, especially when it comes to things like organized religion, institutions, and other systems that tend to lean more patriarchal. Eva is somewhat of a parallel/mirror of Narcissa (and in some respects, Andromeda as well). Her privilege and experiences have colored her worldview in ways that she probably doesn't realize, although we as the readers can pick up on some of them. To answer your question, Eva doesn't hold most organized religions in very high regard, including Islam and Judaism. However, since she isn't going to interact with any Muslim or Jewish characters in this story, her opinions toward those religions, or any others, will not be explored.
The song that Eva plays in the car is "Golden Lady" by Stevie Wonder, from his 1973 album "Innervisions."
Next time, we'll celebrate a little Christmas in July of 1998 as Andromeda harvests some holly.