Thank you for reading my story!
This tale is about many things, but most importantly, coming to terms with grief. It's not exactly a happy story, but there is hope, humor, and some mysteries for you in there too. I do recommend having your tissues available while you read.
Normally, when chapters deal with sensitive or explicit topics, I like to put warnings at their beginning along with what you need to skip if you don't want to read it. Unfortunately, this particular story has several themes (including grief, hitting rock bottom, contemplating death, dealing with trauma, and infertility) that are so intrinsic to its structure that I cannot warn you each time they occur. These themes are too pervasive and central to both the narrative and characters that it would be cumbersome to do so, if not borderline impossible. I understand if anyone needs to bow out because of this.
I will also be upfront about the fact that later in the story, at least one character is going to think about not wanting to be alive. However, no one is going to die, and in my opinion, their thoughts will not rise to meet the threshold of suicidal ideation. I recognize that my opinion on that matter may not match yours on that point, and I will warn appropriately when we get to it later on. Regardless, I understand that that particular topic can be uncomfortable for some readers, so I wanted to let you know far in advance, just in case you're someone who doesn't want to read that.
Thank you, and happy(?) reading.
Chapter 2- Gladiolus ~ Life is a Nightmare
May 1998
Harry Potter awoke to the bright sun streaming through the sheer curtains of the spare bedroom of the Burrow. Squinting, he reached over to the bedside table and put on his glasses, absentmindedly touching his newly faded scar.
It had been nearly a week since what was being dubbed as the Battle of Hogwarts had occurred, and while the wizarding world was in the midst of rebuilding, it was also grieving the many people who had died over the past two years. Inside the Burrow, this was no different; Harry had been staying with the Weasleys mostly because he didn't want to be alone, but the loss of Fred and so many of their other friends had taken a toll on the family, and heartache and sadness had seeped into every nook and cranny of the house. Harry felt in the way, awkward, and somewhat unwanted. He missed his fallen friends too, but their losses were so recent that they hadn't really hit him yet. In a month or two, he was certain that he'd be grieving Lupin, Fred, Tonks, and so many others, but his brain hadn't even processed that they were gone yet.
"Of course we want you to stay with us!" Mrs. Weasley had assured him two days ago, when he'd offered to go back to Grimmauld Place for the night so he could get out of their hair while they grieved for Fred. She had insisted he stay, however. "Harry, dear, you're family. You will always have a place here. Fred would agree."
At that point, she'd begun to silently cry, and Harry made some excuse to go out in the garden alone. He really only wanted the company of a few members of the household, but lately, they were perpetually unavailable. Ron's grief was so profound that he was practically mute, and when he wasn't sitting in silence on the living room couch, he was on his broom, flying laps around the back garden with George. From what Harry could hear of her screaming, Hermione's nightmares kept her up for most of the night, and she was now sleeping nearly all day. During the few hours she was awake, Ron was in the house and they were locked in his room together, presumably snogging or shagging.
Ginny didn't seem to know how to act around him. Harry hadn't had the opportunity to speak with her about whether or not they were a couple again. Part of him was irrationally convinced that due to the loss of Fred and the year they spent apart, Ginny wouldn't want to be with him anymore. Like Ron and Hermione, she was hard to pin down, spending large amounts of the day in her room by herself, over at Luna's, or flying around the Weasley property for hours at a time.
With a tired sigh, Harry got out of bed and quickly dressed himself, mentally preparing for another breakfast full of downcast eyes and silence. As he walked down the stairs, his pace slowed as he heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking in the living room. He stopped on the landing out of view to eavesdrop, knowing that as soon as he entered the room, they would change the conversation.
"-found Selwyn holed up in a shack in Leicestershire, but Dolohov's still missing," he overheard Mrs. Weasley say. "It's surprising. I thought that Flitwick managed to take him down."
"Apparently not," Mr. Weasley replied. "Kingsley said that when they went back to collect his body, there were streaks leading away from a puddle of blood where he was last seen."
"Think they'll catch him?"
"Eventually, yes. Several Order members are trying to track him down."
A murderous chill ran down Harry's spine, and he shuddered violently. He placed his foot on a loose floorboard, causing it to creak loudly. Knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were probably staring in his direction, Harry swore under his breath and continued down the stairs.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and were sitting across from each other on the overly patched, yet still somehow threadbare couches in the living room. A few quick glances around the lower level of the home indicated that the three of them were the only ones there. Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry widely, an expression so forced that it made her face look more grotesque than happy, and she shifted on the couch to make room for him. Harry remained standing.
"Good morning, Harry," Mr. Weasley said softly. He had dark circles under his eyes and was still in his pajamas. "How are you doing today?"
"Fine," Harry lied. There was no way for him to adequately convey to anyone that he was feeling every emotion all at once: anger, happiness, sadness, and even fear. And considering how much other people had lost, Harry was extremely fortunate to be alive and with people who cared about him. It felt wrong to explain that to the Weasleys, especially after they had lost one of their own less than a week ago.
"You sure, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "You said that yesterday, but you look a bit pale, Harry. No one would blame you if you feel-"
Harry felt a burning anger rising within him. He was tired of this. "I said I'm fine," he snapped. "Just like I was yesterday when you asked me. And the day before that. And the day before that."
Not wanting to explode on them- and worried that he would say something he would later regret- Harry turned on his heel and left out the front door, slamming it behind him. He'd apologize to the Weasleys later.
It was sunny and warm outside, and Harry almost felt that the good weather was mocking his dismal mood. He walked down the stone path leading away from the Burrow to the road, not entirely certain as to where he planned on going. All he knew was that he needed to get away from the suffocating atmosphere of the Weasley home for at least a little bit.
When Harry reached the edge of the protective enchantments on the property, he let out a sigh, immediately feeling lighter. However, his anxiety returned as soon as he saw a small and squat balding man in black robes quickly jaunting toward him. Harry reached for his wand, prepared to defend himself if necessary.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter!" the man exuberantly greeted, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. He did not reciprocate the gesture. "I've been waiting for you to come out! I'm Jeffrey Scoffers, reporter for The Daily Prophet. I was wondering if you'd be willing to do an interview about last week's-"
Harry was simultaneously overwhelmed and confused. "Have you been waiting for me here since last week then?" he asked incredulously.
"Of course!" Scoffers beamed. "Everyone wants to know your thoughts on what it was like to take down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! So, what do you say? We can set up a time to-"
"No thanks."
"Don't worry, Mr. Potter we can-"
Harry held up his hand, causing Scoffers to go quiet. "Look, er, I'm kind of busy," Harry said.
"You don't look very busy to me," the reporter pressed.
"I'm, er, off to visit my godson," he replied, saying the first excuse that came to mind. However, now that he'd verbalized it, it didn't seem like such a terrible idea to him.
I haven't seen Teddy in person since the day Tonks and Lupin died, Harry thought to himself. I did want to be a better godfather to him than Sirius was to me… Might as well go say hello. Not like I have much better to do.
"See you later," Harry mumbled, turning on his heel and disapparating away from Scoffers who was still loudly trying to persuade him to do an interview.
When Harry arrived at the Tonks home, it didn't take long to find both its residents out in front of the quaint house. Mrs. Tonks was standing in one of the flower beds in front of her home, frustratedly muttering spells under her breath and waving her wand at clusters of red, yellow, and orange flowers that were almost as tall as she was. Teddy was sitting in his carrier on the grass next to some large green plastic fertilizer bags several feet away, sound asleep and completely unbothered by his grandmother's battle with her flowers.
"Er, hello," Harry awkwardly greeted. What was he supposed to say now that he was here?
Andromeda Tonks turned around to face him, the scowl on her face softening as she caught sight of who her visitor was. "Harry," she said, obviously somewhat taken aback. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I'm, er, not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked, gesturing to the flowers.
"No, of course not," she replied. "I was trying- and spectacularly failing, I might add- to fertilize these gladioluses. Ted liked to use a specific gardening spell on them after putting Muggle fertilizer on them, but I can't seem to get the hang of it. The garden was his, you know. I was always rubbish at Herbology, but I can't let Ted's flowers die after he put so much effort into them. I'm sorry, Harry, that all must sound incredibly silly to you."
Harry didn't think it seemed all that silly. While he hadn't lost a spouse, he'd lost almost every parental figure in his life. Still though, he had found that when he played Quidditch he felt closer to his father- someone he couldn't even remember- so to him, it made sense that Mrs. Tonks might want to engage in one of her husband's hobbies to feel more connected to him after his passing.
"Anyway, is there something I can help you with?" Mrs. Tonks asked, wiping her hands on her blue gardening apron as she joined Harry on the grass.
"Not really," Harry admitted. "I just, er, came to visit Teddy."
She smiled at him, and although it seemed sincere, it didn't reach her eyes. "Well, as you can see, he's in the middle of his morning nap," she said, picking up the baby carrier. "Why don't we go inside for a bit? I'll put some tea on for you while you wait for him to wake up. Shouldn't be much longer now, I suspect he'll wake within the hour."
Harry followed her into the house, feeling out of place and unwelcome as he waited in the living room for Mrs. Tonks to finish putting Teddy in his crib. He had only been to the Tonks home twice; the first was when he had been rescued from Privet Drive and the second was the prior week after the battle. In both instances, he'd been too overwhelmed by adrenaline and strong emotions to pay attention to his surroundings, but, now alone, Harry glanced around the room.
If he hadn't known that wizards lived here, Harry wouldn't have immediately guessed that anyone magical resided in the home. A Muggle television sat in the corner of the room, well in view of the light brown couches and pink armchair. Next to it was a small wooden cabinet with an old record player sitting on top. On a side table was a red telephone plugged into the wall. A tall bookshelf sat against the opposite wall, mostly containing what Harry recognized as Muggle mystery novels and some larger reference books on space flight. A basket of yarn had been set down next to one of the couches, a half-finished blanket or shawl peeking out from underneath the piles of wool atop it. Harry was surprised that the project wasn't knitting itself.
The only indications of wizards in the home were the several copies of Quidditch Monthly on the coffee table and the magical photographs that almost fully covered the pale-yellow walls. The occupants of the frames waved at Harry, and he smiled as he realized that he recognized many of them: Sirius, the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, and even Kingsley Shacklebolt laughed and smiled, completely unaware of the tragedies that awaited their future selves. There were many others in the photographs that Harry didn't recognize though. Over half of them were of the Tonks family in the company of some combination of a woman with sunny blonde hair, a dark-haired man with a severe brow, a woman with long brown curls and a mischievous smile that Harry vaguely recalled seeing at Order of the Phoenix meetings, and a redheaded man that looked very much like Fred and George Weasley.
"What kind of tea would you like?"
Harry turned toward the voice. Mrs. Tonks was standing at the foot of the stairs, having discarded her gardening apron for elegant peach-colored robes and a Muggle baby monitor. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes seemed wetter than normal. Harry wondered if she'd been crying.
"Er, I don't really have a preference either way," he replied.
"Do you take milk in your tea? What about sugar?"
"Anything is fine with me."
She nodded and gestured for him to follow her down a corridor into the kitchen. Harry noticed that much like the living room, the walls of the kitchen were covered with photographs of the Tonks family's loved ones. Also like the living room, there were significantly more Muggle objects than he expected in a wizarding home, such as a refrigerator, stove, microwave, and another telephone.
Mrs. Tonks placed the baby monitor on a small wooden table in the room. Harry leaned against it as he watched her prepare their tea, filling the kettle with water from the sink and placing it on the stove.
"Agnifors," she mumbled, pointing her wand at the kettle. It immediately began whistling.
As she moved about the room, Harry recalled how he had initially mistaken Mrs. Tonks for her older sister, Bellatrix Lestrange. The memory made him feel ashamed and guilty, and Harry tried his best to kick it from his mind. It had been a terrible and grossly inaccurate comparison; now that he was watching her, Harry didn't think that Mrs. Tonks looked much like Bellatrix at all. Bellatrix had been tall, with curly black hair and equally dark eyes that exuded terror. By contrast, Mrs. Tonks was quite small, standing on her toes to reach the sugar on the middle shelf of one of the kitchen cabinets. Her hair was also much lighter and straighter than her older sister's, its chocolate color similar to that of her kind eyes. Andromeda Tonks' face lacked the sharp angles and prominent cheekbones that Bellatrix and Sirius had, and compared to her sister and her cousin- both of whom carried themselves in a proud and confident manner- her posture was simultaneously both more delicate and understated.
Mrs. Tonks approached him with a mug of steaming tea. "Here you are," she said, holding it out for him to take.
"Thank you," Harry replied, taking a sip out of politeness. The tea was floral and fruity, reminiscent of a peach, although the precise flavors of the beverage were a mystery to him. He set the mug down on the table next to the baby monitor.
All of a sudden, Mrs. Tonks' cool expression faltered, and her eyes filled with tears. Inexplicably, she pulled Harry into a hug.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Ted and I… we failed you."
Harry was confused, but accepted the embrace. He could count the number of times he'd interacted with Ted and Andromeda Tonks on one hand. How could they have failed him in those very brief moments?
"If this is about when the Death Eaters came here after I left my aunt's house-" Harry started.
"No," she curtly interrupted, pulling away from him and regaining her composure. "We failed you long before then. You never should have ended up at your aunt's house to begin with."
Harry was now completely lost. "I don't understand," he said.
Mrs. Tonks sighed and sat down at the small table, summoning her mug of tea from across the room. Harry awkwardly took the chair opposite her.
"I've seen your parents' will," she stated, taking a sip of her tea. "In it, they stipulated that if anything happened to them, Sirius was supposed to be your guardian."
"Yeah, but he ended up getting arrested, which is why I ended up with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. "And why would you have seen my parents' will? I didn't think you knew them."
"Not very well," she said. "We only met them a few times, mostly in passing. Ted and I did attend their wedding, although I think James and Lily mostly invited us as a favor to Sirius. Regardless, that's neither here nor there. I was a solicitor that specialized in estate and probate law for many years, and I was the one who drafted Sirius' will. When he was arrested, I became responsible for managing his estate and affairs, meaning that I received a copy of your parents' will as well."
"I'm still confused," Harry groaned. For some reason he couldn't identify, he was starting to feel angry. What was the point of this conversation? Why was Mrs. Tonks dumping all of this information on him? None of it would change what happened in the past or retroactively make his life less a nightmare than it already was. "Sirius was arrested, so Dumbledore put me with my mother's family."
Well, he also wanted to make sure that Mum's love could protect me, he thought to himself.
Mrs. Tonks leaned toward him, resting her elbows on the table. "Except the law doesn't work like that," she said softly. Once again, her expression was unreadable. "Harry, magical estate law is incredibly complex, largely because of the Statute of Secrecy and centuries of purebloods lobbying to protect their assets from those they deem 'undesirable.' The laws around children are fairly straightforward though; orphaned magical children are supposed to be placed with witches and wizards, even if they're biologically unrelated. Any Muggle relatives are to be granted visitation, but not custody, barring exceptional circumstances. When your parents died, Sirius became your guardian. Once he was arrested, he obviously could no longer care for you. At that point, since he was in prison and not dead, the law dictated that you were supposed to go to the person that he recognized as his next of kin- which was me."
Harry was full of so many conflicting emotions that the room began to spin of its own accord. He was upset and angry, but also strangely at peace with the chaotic trajectory of his life thus far. Two or three years ago, he likely would have thrown a fit and demanded answers for why Dumbledore had made him live with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia as opposed to the Tonks family. But now, he couldn't find the energy to be upset. He was far too tired to be angry, and after spending a year on the run and seeing so many people killed, Harry just wanted to move on with his life. Hanging onto anger and resentment wasn't worth it anymore.
"Dumbledore came to us the day after everything happened," Mrs. Tonks continued, her quivering voice cutting through the maelstrom of Harry's thoughts and bringing him back to reality. "He asked us to give permission for you to grow up with your aunt's family. At first, we didn't want to, but Dumbledore indicated that there were other factors at play that he couldn't tell us. And after thinking about it, Ted and I didn't want to deny you of your only living family. So, we agreed to it."
"I see," Harry said, once more not knowing how he was supposed to respond. Mrs. Tonks obviously had been holding onto significant guilt over this for years, but to Harry, this information was all new. How could he say anything when he didn't even know how he was supposed to feel about it?
"Harry, you must understand that if we'd known how you were being treated, Ted and I would have gone down to Surrey and taken you out of that place," she said, tears pooling in her eyes again. "We assumed that they loved you and were caring for you adequately. We didn't learn otherwise until Nymphadora joined the Order of the Phoenix. And by then, it was too late. Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and made it clear to Dumbledore that he wished for you to remain with your aunt and uncle until you came of age."
Mrs. Tonks rose from her chair and walked over to one of the counters, leaning against it. Her back was to Harry, and he wondered if she was crying.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly. "I'm so sorry. You deserved so much better."
Without thinking, Harry stood up and went over to her. She turned around, an expression of surprise on her tear-stained face. Not entirely in control of his actions, and because it seemed like the right thing to do, Harry hugged her. After a tense moment between them, they both relaxed, remaining in their awkward embrace.
Countless questions swirled through his mind. If the Tonks family had taken him in, how would Harry's life have been different? Would he have thought of the grieving woman in front of him his mother? Would Harry have viewed Tonks as an older sister? Would he have grown up hearing stories about his parents, Sirius, and Lupin? Would photographs of Harry- and those of his parents- have joined the many others on the walls of the living room and kitchen? Would his opportunities to defeat Voldemort have been different? Would there have been more of them? Or would Voldemort have come after the entire Tonks family after being resurrected at the end of Harry's fourth year? Without the protection of Lily's love, would Harry have failed in defeating Voldemort, dooming the wizarding world to a future of constant prejudice and genocide?
He didn't know. He couldn't know, not when there were so many variables at play. With so much of the future unknown, Harry could hardly blame Dumbledore for doing what he thought was best at the time in order to ensure the future and safety of their entire society.
He knew that he was giving the deceased headmaster far more grace for his actions than many other witches and wizards would if they were in his shoes. While Harry certainly didn't subscribe to Grindelwald's ideas of putting "The Greater Good" above individual people, if his actions and sacrifices could save the people he cared out most, Harry would willingly put himself in harm's way for them. Perhaps he was being naïve about the entire situation, but he didn't really care anymore.
"It's not your fault, Mrs. Tonks, so please, don't apologize," Harry finally said. "Everything sort of worked out in the end anyway. I'm not mad at you."
"Harry…" she sighed.
"If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you," he admitted.
Mrs. Tonks pulled away from him, her eyes wide. "I don't understand," she said. "Why would you need to apologize to me for anything?"
"Er, well, the first time we met, I sort of confused you with Bellatrix…" he stammered.
Her expression softened and she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Harry, you had just come from an incredibly stressful and violent situation," she replied gently. "You were afraid and disorientated by what had just happened. And considering that you had just been in the presence of my lovely older sister, it's no wonder you were confused. I'm certainly not going to hold it against you. Besides, you're hardly the first person to think that we resemble one another."
"But I-"
"If it will make you feel better, I accept your apology," Mrs. Tonks added.
"Th-thanks," Harry replied, at a loss for words for the umpteenth time this conversation. Fortunately, he was saved from properly responding by a loud squeal coming from the baby monitor.
Mrs. Tonks smiled. "Looks like Teddy's finally awake," she said. "Hopefully he's looking forward to playing with his godfather."
Tonks groaned as she tried and failed to squeeze more of her clothes into her overflowing old Hogwarts trunk. About a quarter of her most valued possessions, including most of her Sneakoscope collection and Fanged Frisbee, were already haphazardly piled inside, but there was barely any room left for necessities like clothing. She didn't really want to unpack the things already in there; her new flat in London was small, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to take her most treasured items from her childhood bedroom when she moved out. Shutting the door to her closet, she tamped down her clothes as best she could, somehow making enough space on the side for a few more Sneakoscopes to fit.
Behind her, she heard her mother sigh. Earlier, Tonks had agreed to let Mum help her pack, but she was quickly regretting that decision. Tonks begrudgingly had to admit that her moving out for good was a milestone for her mother as well, but as excited as she herself was to start a new chapter of her life, Mum was utterly despondent at the prospect of her only child leaving the nest at age twenty. Dad hadn't taken it well either, but at least he wasn't crying and sighing every five minutes like Mum!
"I'm worried you're going to forget something important, Nymphadora."
Tonks spun around. Her mother was now sitting on her bed, absentmindedly stroking the edge of the floral quilt that lay on top. Her downcast eyes were wet, and she was shivering.
"Mum, you worry about everything," Tonks sighed. "Seriously, I'm going to be fine. If I leave something behind, I'll just come back for it."
"But what if it's something really important that you need right away? Like your toothbrush, or your pillow, or your favorite pair of jeans…."
Tonks groaned. "Mum! Come on! I've already packed that stuff!"
"But-"
"Look, if I forget something big, I'll apparate back here and pick it up! Merlin's saggy trousers, I'm moving to London, not Luxembourg!"
Her mother bit her lower lip. "You know, if you want to continue staying here, your father and I won't mind. In fact, we'd love it," she mumbled.
Tonks rolled her eyes. "We've been through this, Mum," she groaned. "I'm twenty. An adult. I want to live on my own now. I need to."
"I-I know." Mum wiped her eyes. "It's just… it's just… Oh, Nymphadora, I'm going to miss you so much!"
Tonks flopped down on her bed next to Mum, cringing at the use of her full name. She'd long since given up trying to get her mother to call her something else, but her insistence on using it while tearfully mewling over Tonks moving out was incredibly exasperating.
"I don't get it," she said. "It's not like I'm dying or anything. I'm even sleeping over here in three days so I can drive the car back and take more stuff with me!"
Mum reached out and touched Tonks' face. "I know," she replied with a small smile. "But I'll miss you anyway. I'm sure that I'm acting insufferable right now, but when your child moves out, you'll understand."
"Not bloody likely."
"…"
"Dear God, if that actually happens, you're never going to let me forget this, will you?"
"Of course not. Embarrassing your child is part of the job description of being a parent."
"Mum!"
Her mother chuckled and rose to her feet, approaching the overflowing trunk in the middle of the room. "Right," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "There's a lot more space in here than you think. However, unless you pack everything neatly, you won't be able to use it effectively."
Tonks grumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets and sauntering over to Mum. "You know I'm rubbish at that sort of thing," she whined. "Do I have to?"
"As you so eloquently reminded me earlier, you are an adult now," Mum smirked. "So, no, you don't have to. But I think you should. Would you like me to help you?"
Suddenly, Tonks felt very much like a child again. Weirdly though, that sensation was somewhat comforting amidst the stress and chaos of moving out.
"Please?" she asked in a higher voice than normal.
Wordlessly, Mum levitated all of the items out of Tonks' trunk. With a wave of her wand, they neatly repacked themselves, her clothes and socks folding as they descended into the trunk. The trunk's lid shut with a loud clack. Admittedly, Tonks was somewhat jealous of her mother's skill at household charms; she herself had never had the talent, coordination, or patience for them.
Mum turned to face her, a wry smile on her face. "So, is this the part where you attempt to sneakily ask me to make that raspberry Victoria sponge cake you love so much for dessert tonight, as you're leaving tomorrow and will no longer get to have it regularly?" she asked.
"Er… well…" Tonks stammered. She had, in fact, been about to ask that very question. "Maybe?"
Mum laughed. "Good thing I made it this morning then," she said.
Tonks felt a rush of affection for her mother. "Thanks, Mum," she mumbled. "You're the best."
I took the small bag full of old clothing out of my bedroom closet and placed it on the floor in front of my sister-in-law.
"I'm sorry, Eva," I said. "I meant to get these sorted earlier, but Teddy's godfather showed up unexpectedly. He was here for a while to play with Teddy and then it took forever to get him down for his afternoon nap and-"
"Relax, Andromeda," she said. "It's not a big deal. Mum doesn't have a lot this year either. But the shelter appreciates everything you donate, even if it's not much."
Evangeline Tonks was Ted's older sister, and like him, she was principled, kind, and optimistic about almost everything. Unlike him though, she was stubborn and not afraid to tell people what she thought of them. With her golden hair, stormy blue-gray eyes, and round face so similar to her brother, they could have been twins. The only difference was that Eva had a much more athletic frame.
I was somewhat perplexed as to Eva's presence in my home. I liked my sister-in-law, but she rarely made the visit out to see us due to it being three-hour drive for her. Normally, Ted and I visited her, apparating to London in an instant.
Every year, my mother-in-law's church did a clothing drive for the local women's shelter, but Eva hardly ever participated. Normally, Janet Tonks and I collected Muggle clothing from our neighbors and friends, as well as knitting sweaters to donate, my magic knitting needles generally speeding up their construction by dozens of hours. This year, with everything going on, I'd hardly had the motivation to do much of anything for the charity drive. I felt somewhat bad about that; many of the women in that shelter had had worse lives than I did and were relying on people like my mother-in-law and me for help.
"I'm a bit surprised you're helping with this," I said. "I thought you were against everything the church did on principle."
Eva grimaced. "I am, but Mum's been in a right state since…" She left the sentence unfinished. "Anyway, I had some old clothes I wanted to get rid of, so I figured that I'd help her out this year and come get yours too."
"It's really no trouble for me to deliver them myself," I insisted. "I can apparate to her whenever I want. You, on the other hand, have to drive the entire width of England to bring my donations to your mother. Why are you really here, Eva?"
My sister-in-law stared at the floor, absentmindedly scratching her head. "I wanted to check up on you to see how you were doing," she admitted, although it seemed like she was some of her true feelings back.
"That's not necessary," I insisted. "I'm fine."
"I don't think you are. I'm certainly not."
We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us bothering to hide our pained expressions. The atmosphere between us grew tense and suffocating, and before long I was unable to breathe.
"Anyway, I don't think this paltry little bag is enough," I said, breaking the silence as tapped the bag with my toe. "Maybe we can donate some of Nymphadora's old clothes since she can't… won't…"
Before Eva could respond, I turned around and left my bedroom, wandering down the small corridor to Nymphadora's. Behind me, I could hear Eva following. Entering my daughter's sunny yellow room, I immediately went to the closet and opened it. My vision blurred with tears as soon as I caught sight of the jeans and graphic T-shirts Nymphadora had loved so much. They sat among hers and Remus' robes, waiting to be worn again.
After Ted went on the run, Nymphadora and Remus moved in with me, both because it was safer here, and because they didn't want me to be alone. They had slept in her childhood bedroom and used her empty closet to store their belongings, mostly their clothes.
Practically speaking, it made sense to donate Nymphadora's clothes to women who needed them. I knew she would agree with me, and in fact, she would probably be the first to suggest it.
But getting rid of her clothes would mean that I was getting rid of a part of her- that she was truly gone.
Silent tears poured out of me. I shut the closet door as I heard Eva enter the room.
"I don't think I can do this," I mumbled.
She placed her hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to," she quietly replied, her voice shaking. "Andromeda, it's barely been a week. You don't need to go through any of her stuff right now. In fact, you probably shouldn't."
Sniffling, I went over to the bed and wrapped myself in the floral quilt that sat on top. It was well-loved, but threadbare and in dire need of mending. Eva flopped down next to me without a word.
We sat there and cried together for a long time.
A few days later, Harry Potter unexpectedly showed up on my doorstep once more. After inviting him inside and handing him his godson, we sat down on the living room couch together. He looked extremely tired, and from how his face immediately relaxed when he entered the house, I got the sense that he was using this visit to escape from some of his more pressing troubles.
"To what do I owe the pleasure this time, Harry?" I asked, picking up my current knitting project and beginning to work. It was a blanket for Teddy, made of special magical yarn that was designed to emit enough warmth to keep a person's body temperature up. It was excellent for both outwear and garments for infants.
"Er, well," he mumbled, shifting a curious Teddy in his arms. "I want to be an active godparent in Teddy's life. I know what it's like to grow up without parents, and I really wish that Sirius had been able to be there for me more than he was. It wasn't really his fault, but still. So I was thinking that maybe I could visit Teddy once a week or so?"
Warmth radiated from both my knitting project and my heart out to my extremities. "I think that's a wonderful idea," I beamed.
I spent the better part of the next hour instructing Harry on the finer points of taking care of infants, including how to hold Teddy, how to change his diaper, and how to feed and burp him. Fortunately, Harry was a quick learner, and by the time we were finished, Teddy had begun to doze off.
"I feel like all he does is sleep," Harry said, watching in wonder as Teddy's eyes began to droop and his currently black hair shifted back to its natural sandy color.
"At this age, all babies really do is eat, cry, sleep, and poop," I replied, taking the baby. Quickly, I went upstairs to put Teddy in his bassinet in my bedroom for his afternoon nap.
"Give him a couple months," I continued once I'd returned to the living room, checking the pocket of my robes to make sure I had the baby monitor. "Right now, his idea of playing is observing the world around him. In fact, if you ever want to take him out anywhere, you're more than welcome to strap him in his carrier and go off. It's good for his development to see new things, and that way, you two won't have to be cooped up here all the time."
Harry shuddered as we walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. "I promise that I'll take him some places, but I'm okay with being 'cooped up here' for a little bit," he sighed. "Everywhere else right now seems so… so busy. I'm not ready for that. I know we're supposed to be rebuilding and moving on, but I don't think I can yet. I kind of just want to be alone and for things to go back to normal. And I'm sick of everyone asking me how I'm feeling all the time."
"I completely understand, Harry," I said, opening a cabinet and taking out some peach tea and sugar. "I'd like people to stop asking me that as well. It's just another reminder that things aren't normal."
"Exactly!" he agreed, sinking down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "And it doesn't help that on the few occasions I've gone to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade people are whispering and pointing at me. Or, worse, reporters try and get me to talk to them."
I let out a long sigh as I filled my kettle with water from the sink. "I can empathize with you a little bit there," I replied, memories of the early days of my marriage to Ted involuntarily bubbling to the surface from deep corners of my mind. "Me being disowned was a huge spectacle in pureblood society. There was a period of a few months where Ted and I could hardly go anywhere in the wizarding world without people making nasty comments. It was incredibly stressful."
"I'm sorry."
"Obviously it's nothing on the level of what you've dealt with, being the Boy-Who-Lived," I continued, setting the kettle on the stove. "And I won't pretend that the two situations are remotely similar at all. But I do understand why you might want to lay low for a bit."
"Thanks, Mrs. Tonks," Harry said, his expression darkening as he stared at his feet. "So you don't mind me coming over to get some peace and quiet?"
I smiled at him, silently praying that people would leave both of us alone for the foreseeable future. "Of course not," I replied, nonverbally casting a spell to heat the kettle. "You're more than welcome to come over whenever you like, even if you only want to sit in the corner of the garden and read."
His face relaxed again as he looked at me directly. "Thanks again, Mrs. Tonks," he said. "I really appreciate it."
Wordlessly, I continued preparing our tea, and we spent the next quarter of an hour enjoying each other's company in silence.
Ted was angry, angrier than he'd been in a very long time.
Earlier that evening, Dora had come by for dinner, casually mentioning that she and the Order of the Phoenix had rescued Harry from his aunt's house and taken him to the Order's headquarters to stay with Sirius. Andromeda then asked why Harry would need to be "rescued" from his relatives in the first place, and Dora let slip that Vernon and Petunia Dursley were mistreating their nephew, going so far as to keep him in a cupboard as a child. There was no conversation after that revelation, and once she finished her food, Dora awkwardly left by Floo, knocking over the umbrella stand and the fire pokers on her way out.
Ted had stormed into the study afterwards, hoping that being in the presence of his loved ones depicted in the numerous photographs that covered the desk in the room would calm him down.
"This never should have happened," he muttered pushing the sturdy chair out of the way so he could pace behind the desk. "This is all my fault."
"No, Ted. It isn't."
He stopped pacing and looked up. Andromeda stood in the doorway, her mouth set in a taut frown.
"There was no way we could have known that the Dursleys would abuse Harry when we agreed to let him live with them," she continued, walking toward him. "I don't think Dumbledore knew that either. Based on what we were told at the time, giving custody to his aunt made sense."
He knew his wife was right, but he still felt guilty. "I know," Ted groaned. "But I feel responsible for this. I was the one who insisted we let him stay with his only family. You were ready to turn Dumbledore down. God and Merlin… We would never have shut him in a cupboard, or starved him, or given him clothes that didn't fit! We would have loved him as if he were our own child! Because he would have been!"
A tear fell down Andromeda's cheek, and Ted felt even worse. The fact that they'd only ever had one child was a touchy subject for both of them, but especially for his wife. He leaned over the desk and wiped her tears away.
"You shouldn't project our own desires onto something like this," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. To others, her dispassionate tone might come off as insensitive, but Ted knew otherwise; it meant that she was extremely upset and trying to hide that fact.
"I know," he gently replied. "But I'm going to be angry about this for a long time, Dromeda."
"Me too, Ted."
Ted held his wife close, breathing in the soothing floral scent of her perfume. Andromeda wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.
After a moment, Ted felt much calmer. "Dumbledore completely failed Harry by leaving him with the pieces of dragon dung he has for relatives," he said. "Or he's set him up to be an incredibly resilient man and a proper hero for the wizarding world."
"I think it's probably a bit of both," Andromeda sighed.
She was probably right. Regardless, Ted decided that if Harry Potter ever needed anything from him, he would go above and beyond to help.
After dooming Harry to a childhood of abuse, it was the least that Ted could do.
Harry's day hadn't been going as he planned at all.
His original plans were to apologize to the Weasleys for his snappy behavior the prior week and then go to Mrs. Tonks' to spend the rest of the day with Teddy. While Harry did manage to apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley- and they were far more gracious and understanding than Harry thought he deserved- he was then immediately approached by Ginny, who asked to talk to him alone. When he told her of his intent to spend the day with his godson, Ginny had offered to come along. Harry reluctantly agreed, as in truth, he wanted to spend time with her.
After a brief encounter with Scoffers the reporter at the edge of the Weasley property- one which ended with Ginny threatening to hex him into next week before Scoffers scampered off- they apparated to Mrs. Tonks' home. Since it was a beautiful spring day, Mrs. Tonks suggested that Harry take Teddy out to a park, and Ginny accepted on his behalf while she cooed over his godson, mentioning that there was a park in Ottery St. Catchpole they could go to. After bundling Teddy up in his pram and giving him a hat to hide his pink hair, Mrs. Tonks waved them off and requested that they bring her grandson back later that afternoon.
And so, Harry and Ginny were now awkwardly sitting on a park bench at least three feet apart from one another, surrounded by the verdant spring flowers and budding trees in the park. The pram sat between them, filling the empty void. Ginny was holding Teddy, pointing out various things around them and telling him what they were called. To onlookers, the trio must have looked like a very young family enjoying a pleasant spring day.
Before long though, Teddy got fussy, and after Harry fed him a bottle of Milk Potion, he fell asleep.
"Blimey, Harry, you weren't wrong," Ginny said as he placed Teddy back in the pram. "All he really does is eat and sleep. He's super cute though. Looks a lot like Lupin."
"Yeah," Harry sighed, knowing that he was going to have to listen to whatever Ginny wanted to talk to him about sooner or later. Might as well be sooner. "Anyway, what was it that you wanted to talk about?"
Ginny shifted closer to Harry on the bench. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something," she said, tugging on a lock of her flaming red hair.
"Please don't ask me how I'm feeling. I'm sick of that one."
"I wasn't going to," Ginny assured him with a small and nervous smile. "It's just… I wanted to know if we… Well, now that You-Know-Who's gone, are we going to get back together? I'd really like to. I know that I've been a bit distant lately, but I don't want to grieve for everyone alone anymore."
Harry felt a rush of affection for her. While he certainly wasn't necessarily ready to grieve publicly yet, he knew that once he got there, he would want the people he cared about by his side. And if Ginny was already at that stage, he wanted to be there to support her too. Harry cared about her more than almost anyone else. A year apart hadn't changed his feelings for her at all; in fact, they had intensified them.
He leaned in and tenderly kissed her, placing his hand on her waist. "Yeah," he murmured, resting his forehead against her. "Let's do it."
Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry, but almost immediately pulled away, a puzzled look on her face as she stared at something behind him. "Is that Seamus over there?" she asked.
Harry turned around. Sure enough, Seamus Finnegan was jogging toward them, his brow so sharply furrowed that Harry could see it from several feet away.
"Harry, Ginny!" he called out as he approached. "Wasn't expecting to find you here. Also, nice baby. It's not yours, is it?"
"Obviously not, Seamus!" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Everyone would have noticed if I was pregnant!"
"This is Teddy Lupin," Harry explained. "My godson. He's Professor Lupin's kid."
Seamus nodded, peering into the pram to look at the sleeping baby. "Neat," he replied. "Anyway, you haven't seen Dean today, have you?"
"Er, no, I haven't," Harry said. "Have you, Ginny?"
"No," Ginny answered. "What's up, Seamus? Is Dean missing or something?"
Seamus nodded. "Yeah, he was staying with me and me mam, but when we woke up this morning, he was gone!" he explained, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest. "All of his stuff was missing too. Didn't leave a note or anything! It's like he vanished into thin air!"
"Maybe he went back to his parents' house?" Ginny suggested.
"That was the first place I checked," Seamus sighed. "He's not there either. His mum and stepdad said they haven't seen him in weeks! So I've been checking everywhere I can think of. Dean likes parks, so I've spent all morning going around to all the ones I know. But if you have any better guesses as to where he might be, I'm all ears. You dated him for a bit, right, Ginny? Any ideas?"
Ginny bit her lower lip. "You might try checking some art galleries in London, like the Green Glasshouse in Diagon Alley," she suggested. "Or the Muggle botanical gardens in the area. He told me on more than a few occasions how much he liked to go to those types of places and sketch."
Harry didn't know Dean all that well, but it wouldn't have surprised him if after everything he had gone through this past year had taken a toll on Dean. Being on the run, captured by the Malfoys, and then participating in a full-fledged battle at Hogwarts was a lot for anyone to go through. Harry wouldn't blame him if he wanted to be alone.
"Give him a little space, Seamus," Harry suggested. "He's been through a lot. Just give him some time alone and I'm sure he'll come back."
Seamus sighed. "You're probably right, Harry," he replied, kicking at the grass. "I'll let you know if he turns up. Or if he doesn't."
"Thanks, Seamus," he said. "See you around."
"Later, Harry, Ginny," Seamus responded. He gave them a quick wave before disapparating.
Ginny scooted back over on the bench and put her hands on Hary's chest. "Now, where were we?" she smirked. Harry leaned back in and kissed her again.
There were many things he had missed while he had been on the hunt for horcruxes, and kissing Ginny was absolutely near the top of that list.
They remained at the park until Teddy finished his nap. Once he woke up, Harry decided to bring him back home, promising to meet Ginny back at the Burrow so they could finish their snogging session.
Upon arriving outside the Tonks home though, Harry was met with the last person he wanted to see.
"Greetings, Mr. Potter!" Scoffers exuberantly exclaimed, rushing toward him. "I was wondering if you would-"
"Seriously?" Harry groaned, shifting the nappy bag on his shoulder as he quickly crossed the yard and went up the steps to the house. He was starting to get extremely annoyed with Jeffrey Scoffers. "You followed me here?!"
Harry unlocked the door and went inside with Teddy before the reporter could bother him further. Mrs. Tonks was in the living room mending a large patchwork quilt, which she tossed aside before taking Teddy out of his pram.
"How did your little excursion go?" she asked, waving her wand at the pram to collapse it before returning it to the closet.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Scoffers out the window. He was approaching the house, lifting the legs of his brown trousers before stepping onto one of the flower beds out front, completely crushing a large orange flower.
"Er, it went fine," Harry said, placing Teddy's nappy bag at his feet and discreetly turning his head to the side to peer out the window again. "Teddy enjoyed it."
Mrs. Tonks raised her grandson up and sniffed his diaper. "I'm glad," she said. "While you were out, I made a sponge cake. You're more than welcome to have some or take some with you when- Harry, why are gawking out the window so furtively?"
Harry jumped, not realizing how obvious his staring had been. "There's a reporter out there," he explained, blushing. "He's been tailing me for days, usually waiting outside the Burrow. Keeps pestering me for an interview about the battle."
Mrs. Tonks' face darkened. "This has been going on for days?" she asked.
"More like a week or so now."
She thrust Teddy back into Harry's arms. All warmth left her brown eyes, and in that moment, Harry thought that she looked remarkably like Bellatrix Lestrange.
"You don't have to put up with people like him, you know," she said curtly, spinning on her heel and opening the front door.
"Mrs. Tonks, it's really okay-" Harry started, not wanting anyone else to fight another battle for him. After a lifetime of that, he was tired of people doing it.
"Excuse me, sir," Mrs. Tonks called out, leaning out the door to face Scoffers. "Why are you trampling my beloved husband's flowers? I have no idea who you are, and I don't want whatever it is you're selling."
Through the window, Harry spied Scoffers jumping back onto the grass and straightening his tie. Teddy scrunched his face up, and Harry saw that he now had jet black hair.
"Good afternoon, madam!" Scoffers squeaked. "I'm Jeffrey Scoffers, a reporter with The Daily Prophet, you see. I saw that Mr. Potter was paying you a visit. I was hoping that he-"
"Intriguing," Mrs. Tonks cut in coldly, a stark contrast from how kind and welcoming she had been to Harry not five minutes earlier. Her tone was so unfriendly that Harry felt a shiver travel down his spine. "Who is your supervisor? Rita Skeeter?"
"Actually, it's Diana Shacklebolt," Mr. Scoffers replied, scratching his head. "Why do you ask?"
"So that when I report you to the Ministry for trespassing, they know exactly who to send the warning to," Mrs. Tonks said, putting her hand on her hip. "And I don't think that Minister Shacklebolt will be too happy to hear that his sister's subordinates are harassing and stalking children. The DMLE will certainly inform him that you're doing just that to Harry Potter of all people. Your boss is going to put all the blame on you, and you'll be out of a job."
Her voice was now so chilling that Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd done something wrong too. Through the window, he saw Mr. Scoffers' face lose all color. "Y-you wouldn't… she wouldn't..." he sputtered.
"You are a shame to your profession," Mrs. Tonks she continued coldly. "Instead of going out and covering news about the rebuilding efforts or the hunt for the remaining Death Eaters, you've decided that it would be better to bother a grieving woman and a boy who had the weight of the world put on his shoulders. Harry Potter's comfort is more important than your paper's profit margins."
"But madam, I-"
"Please leave," Mrs. Tonks said. "Or I'll also report you for destruction of property. You did ruin a few of my flowers, and they're quite expensive to magically maintain out of season."
The threat of additional legal problems seemed to have spooked Mr. Scoffers beyond the point of no return. Harry heard a small pop outside, and when he looked, the reporter was gone.
Mrs. Tonks shut the door with a loud sigh and returned to the couch. "Just my luck," she groaned. "Looks like I'll be making an unplanned trip to the Ministry later."
Harry shifted his godson in his arms. Shockingly, the baby had been quiet during the whole ordeal. "You don't actually need to file a complaint about him," he said, simultaneously touched by Mrs. Tonks' efforts to help him and afraid to ever end up on her bad side. "Really, it's fine. Thanks, though. I appreciate you getting rid of him."
She stared at him blankly. "Of course I'm going to report him," she insisted, the warm timbre returning to her voice. "That man destroyed some of Ted's expensive flowers. And more importantly, he won't stop bothering you unless he actually faces some consequences. He'll simply lay low for a week before starting up again."
"Er, I guess that's true," he mumbled. Teddy was beginning to squirm in his arms. "Did you know who he was? That bit about how his boss is Kingsley's sister… it seemed like your threats to him were almost planned."
She shook her head. "No," she replied. "I truly did think his supervisor was Rita Skeeter. But like I mentioned to you before, I was a solicitor for many years and argued numerous cases in front of the Wizengamot. I also was a secret blood traitor in a family of pureblood supremacists, and I often needed to quickly come up with excuses when I did things they didn't approve of. I've been thinking on my feet for most of my life."
"So what you're saying is that you're just really cunning?"
"I was in Slytherin, Harry. Not all of us are evil."
Mrs. Tonks smiled and held her hands out to take Teddy from him again. "Anyway, why don't I cut you a large piece of sponge cake to take with you when you leave?" she continued, summoning a bottle to feed her grandson. "If you're going back to the Burrow later, you can share some of it with Ginny."
Harry nodded. "Thanks," he said. "I'd like that."
As Mrs. Tonks cut and packaged the cake, which was elaborately decorated with flowers made of white frosting and blackberries, Harry couldn't help but think that in some ways she was very similar to Mrs. Weasley. Like Mrs. Weasley, Andromeda Tonks was a force to be reckoned with when it came to protecting those she cared about, and she was equally kindhearted, if a bit aloof.
Harry was glad that he had both women in his life, and vowed to treat them better than he had previously.
The sound of a baby crying woke me from the very pleasant dream I was having about eating muffins with my family and friends at the beach. I let out a groan, so tired that my eyes refused to open.
Whose turn was it to feed Nymphadora? Mine? Or was it Ted's? I ran my hand across the left side of the bed, finding it empty. Confident that Ted would take care of her, I tried to doze off again.
A few minutes later, the baby was still screaming. What was taking Ted so long to get to her?
My eyes snapped open when I realized that he never would. It wasn't our daughter who was crying, it was our grandson.
And Ted, Nymphadora, and Remus were dead.
I quickly jumped out of bed and took Teddy out of the bassinet across the room, summoning a bottle from downstairs so I could feed him.
"I'm so sorry," I cried, his wails ceasing as soon as the bottle touched his lips. I held him close to me. "I'm so sorry."
The following day, I decided to mend Nymphadora's old quilt.
Structurally, it was in need of no repairs. In fact, the only parts that had been fraying were the quilted gladiolus flowers that adorned its edges. Whatever material they had been made of originally was starting to disintegrate; I suspected the fabric was some sort of cheap synthetic Muggle blend, as the quilt was originally a gift from Ted's mother. Fortunately, it was an easy fix, and all I needed to do was cut out the same shapes in different fabric and sew them over the old patches, a task that took no time at all with magic.
We were in the living room. I glanced over at Teddy, who was lying in a baby seat that had a mobile of colored dinosaurs suspended above it. His hair was bright orange, just like the T-Rex he was currently attempting to reach for. Molly Weasley was on the couch across from me, barely touching the piece of sponge cake I'd cut for her. I wasn't quite sure when she had come or why she was here; perhaps she sought the solace of another grieving mother. Or maybe, just like everyone else, she thought that I was going to wither away and wanted to check in on Teddy and me. Whatever the reason, I could tell from the dark circles under her eyes that she hadn't been sleeping lately. I supposed that the same was true for me.
The joyful cadence of a piano rag coming from the mini wireless on the table contrasted with our somber moods. I enjoyed music, but lately, most of it made me upset. The pop and oldies stations reminded me too much of Ted, and it only ever took a few songs for one of Nymphadora's favorites to come up whenever I changed it to a rock station. I supposed that I could have fiddled with it to get it to pick up the Wizarding Wireless Network's music station, but I hardly had the energy to. Instead, I'd set it to a Muggle classical music station that my mother-in-law enjoyed.
I was so out of it that I hardly noticed when I stabbed my needle through the quilt so forcefully that I punctured my pointer finger on the other side. Grumbling, I withdrew my hand, removed the needle, and mended the injury.
"Andromeda, dear," Molly said sweetly. "You don't need to overexert yourself over that ratty quilt. I can see so many unfinished knitting projects in your basket from all the way over here. Why don't you work on one of them? That Muggle quilt isn't an heirloom, is it? Why bother mending it when it was never intended to last?"
Her callous words pierced my heart like a knife. I didn't think she meant to be so insensitive about my daughter's childhood quilt, but regardless, what she said still hurt. I decided to ignore her and continue mending.
I glanced at Teddy. He had changed his attention from the T-Rex to the green stegosaurus, his hair now a vibrant lime color to match. Perhaps unintentionally, he was swatting at it to the beat of the music.
I didn't mind Molly Weasley, but in general, I did not prefer her company. She was a kind person, but far too inflexible and bossy for her own good. To her, there was a right way and a wrong way to do things; she saw things in black and white, with very little room for gray. After a lifetime of my family imposing that sort of philosophy on me- albeit with far more prejudiced undertones- I was done capitulating to such mindsets.
There were two main reasons that Molly and I interacted with each other throughout the years: the Weasleys were some of the only people Ted and I knew with children the same age as Nymphadora, and we had been very close friends with Molly's younger brother, Gideon. This meant that we saw members of the Prewett-Weasley clan at least once a week, although prior to their deaths, it was usually Gideon and his wife Ruth, not Molly and Arthur. After our friends were murdered though, Ted and Arthur became much closer, generally going out for drinks at least once a month. I was happy for them, as in their grief, they were able to confide in each other.
Molly and I never had that and we were never on the same page. I often ignored the bevy of unsolicited advice she gave me about raising my child, and she was wholly uninterested in discussing the parts of our lives that didn't revolve around our domestic duties, such as my work as a solicitor. She told me far too much about her marital issues with Arthur and tried to pry into mine with Ted. If that was her attempt at friendship, I didn't appreciate it.
At the end of the day, we could barely be anything that resembled close friends. She was the quintessential bossy Gryffindor homemaker, and I was a career-driven Slytherin interloper that dropped into her life when I unexpectedly married her brother's best friend. I doubted she felt she could rely on me for anything, and frankly, I found it difficult to trust her too. We were too different.
And so we sat in silence, me mending Nymphadora's quilt, Molly slowly eating the sponge cake, and Teddy playing with his dinosaur mobile. When we were both finished, Molly said goodbye, and I put Teddy down for a nap. Both of us were obviously hurting, but neither of us could talk about it.
At least, not with each other.
The gladiolus flower (also called "sword lily") represents integrity, strength, and victory- all qualities that I thought matched Harry quite well. Additionally, the flower's name derives from the Latin word for sword, and since Harry has used the Sword of Gryffindor a few times, I thought it was quite fitting. In Greco-Roman mythology, Pluto, the overseer of the underworld, was said to wear a wreath of gladioli. This is also a fun little parallel, as Harry was the Master of Death at the end of Deathly Hallows.
Harry is a difficult character to write because while he has personality, he is very much a blank slate for the audience to project themselves onto. While I attempted to maintain (and very much struggled with) that balance, I decided to err slightly more on the side of blank slate, particularly with how he's handling the events during and at the end of the seventh book. Harry is a recurring character in this story though, so you will get to see some of his reflecting about the past year and his struggles with coming to terms with those events, albeit from other people's perspectives.
The music that Andromeda is listening to at the end of the chapter is "Gladiolus Rag" by Scott Joplin.
Next week, as well as the week after, we will be roaming amongst the daffodils.