Chapter 5- Zinnia ~ A Feather in the Wind Tu Te Reconnaitras/Feather in the Wind
June 1998
The small cemetery in Ottery St. Catchpole was packed to the brim with people wearing black robes.
As his father gave his eulogy, Bill looked around at the others who had come to pay their respects to Fred. It was, more than anything else, an attempt to distract himself from whatever was being said about his younger brother. He couldn't pay attention to any of it, not unless he wanted to cry. And Bill wouldn't cry. He couldn't, not in front of so many of their friends and family; Mum, Ginny, George, and Percy were already sobbing. As the oldest, Bill needed to put on a brave face for them.
He recognized nearly everyone in the graveyard. Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood, Lee Jordan, and Fred's other Gryffindor schoolmates were quietly sniffling in one section of the crowd. Verity and the rest of the employees of Weasley's Wizard Wheeze's were just behind them. On the other side, Professor McGonagall, Kingsley, Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, Laura Rosier, and other members of the Order of the Phoenix that Bill recognized were holding onto each other. Harry and Hermione were in front with the rest of the Weasley family, and all the way in the back, he spied Andromeda Tonks holding Teddy.
Dad's speech had concluded without him realizing. Now Harry was speaking, saying confusing things about a map or something. Bill didn't really know; he still wasn't paying attention.
He couldn't believe that his little brother was gone. It seemed wrong. Bill should have been the one to go first, and he couldn't help but feel that he'd failed Fred by not dying before him. Obviously, that made very little rational sense and life was more complicated than that, but a small part of Bill blamed himself for not protecting Fred. What if he had gone with Fred during the battle? Would he have been able to push his brother out of the way of the explosion that killed him? Would Bill have died instead?
The white marble headstone marking Fred's grave was beautiful, with two intricately carved lions on either side of the stone enchanted to move, guarding his remains forevermore. Percy had chosen the design and found a stone mason to carve it, insisting on paying for it in full by himself. It was a far grander stone than the rest of those interred in the Weasley's cemetery plots had, and Bill speculated that it must have cost his younger brother a small fortune to commission.
Just behind Fred's grave was where the Prewett family's plot began. Bill stared at the familiar names of his maternal relatives, his gaze lingering on the stones marking the final resting places of Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian, who had died in the First Wizarding War. Bill had loved both of his uncles, and their jovial nature and carefree attitude always put him at ease. After they died, it took over a year for his mother to smile again. Bill wondered if Mum ever wished she could have protected her little brothers from the Death Eaters that killed them, just like he wished he could have protected Fred.
Bill's eyes were drawn to the colorful blooms that decorated Uncle Gideon's grave. A large bouquet of bright red and purple flowers had been placed there, contrasting with the weathered gray stone behind it.
Mum must have put them there before the funeral started, Bill thought to himself. It's good that he's had at least one visitor recently. Some of these graves look like they haven't been visited in over a century. I won't let that happen to Fred.
He felt a light tap on his clenched hand. Bill looked at his wife next to him and he relaxed, taking her hand in his. Fleur's expression was a cross between sorrow and worry, a despondent frown and furrowed brow marring her beautiful face. Her light eyes were inquisitive, and Bill felt that they were peering into the deepest recesses of his soul.
Are you alright? her eyes asked. Bill nodded and Fleur's expression softened. He gave his wife's hand a comforting squeeze, glad that in these uncertain and difficult times, he had at least one person who understood him.
He spent the rest of Fred's funeral holding Fleur's hand, focusing on his wife's gentle touch instead of what was going on around him.
A couple of days later, Bill visited his parents at the Burrow.
The Burrow had never been a shining beacon of cleanliness- seven children made that all but impossible- but Bill noticed that it was particularly untidy today. Unfolded laundry was haphazardly piled on one of the couches, dirty dishes sat atop the kitchen counter, and a layer of dust hugged almost every table and shelf. Wordlessly, Bill waved his wand at the various messes to tidy them up.
"Bill, is that you?" his mother asked as she descended the stairs from the second floor. She looked tired, and from the puffiness around her eyes, Bill suspected that she'd been crying not long before his arrival. At her temples, gray strands of hair sat amongst her normal natural red. For the first time ever, Bill thought she looked old.
"Mum," he said softly.
His mother embraced him, and Bill awkwardly patted her back.
"How have you been since…?" she asked, plastering an obviously fake smile on her face as she left the question unfinished.
"I've been better," he admitted, rolling his wand against his palm. "I still can't believe he's gone. I keep asking myself if there's something I could have done to prevent it. It's driving me crazy. Fleur reckons I should see a Mind Healer."
Mum shuddered. "Yes, well… perhaps you should wait a bit before going that route," she said dismissively, her eyes darting around at the various scars on Bill's face. She did that so often that Bill was no longer offended by it. "Don't blame yourself, Bill. None of us could have… could have…"
She blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes. Bill hated seeing his mother like this. He wished he could do something to make her pain go away, along with everyone else's.
"Er, how are you?" he finally asked, scratching his head. "Anything I can do around here to help?"
"Nothing really," she replied. "Really, your father and I are fine, dear. We're managing."
"I don't believe you, Mum, not after all we've been through recently. Let me help with anything that needs cleaning or fixing so you can rest up a bit. I'm your son, it's my job to take care of you now that I'm grown."
His mother hugged him again. "Very well," she said, beaming with pride and affection. "There are a few things you could do since you're here…"
For the next hour or so, Bill cleaned and fixed various things around his childhood home. Many of the objects in the kitchen, including the cauldron stand, an alembic, and a couple of chairs, had been damaged or broken from overuse. In the past several weeks, the Weasleys had entertained so many guests in the wake of the battle that their furniture and kitchen items had become war casualties themselves.
Once he finished his self-imposed tasks- and only after Mum insisted that there was nothing more for him to do- Bill went to find his father. Unsurprisingly, he was out in the back shed where he stored his many Muggle artifacts.
Dad was sitting at his workbench, tinkering with an odd onion-shaped object made of glass that had little metal wires inside. Next to him was a blue tray with various colored wires and cylindrical objects that Bill remembered Harry calling "batteries." Dad was hard at work, wrapping the wires around the metal base of the glass onion and attempting to attach them to the batteries. He was completely oblivious to the world around him.
"Dad?" Bill said, causing his father to jump.
"Merlin, Bill, I didn't see you there!" his father exclaimed, hastily putting the onion down and adjusting his askew glasses. "I almost dropped the lightbulb!"
"What are you doing with it?"
"Oh, you know, just experimenting with how it reacts to different power sources."
Bill nodded. He did not, in fact, know what his father was going on about, but he politely pretended otherwise. Dad's fascination with Muggle electronics was so strange and consuming at times that it was often easier to just go along with whatever he was saying, even if it made absolutely no sense.
"Anyway, what brings you here today, son?" he asked. Like Mum, Dad seemed tired, sad, and old, although he was doing a better job at hiding the first two things from Bill.
Bill shrugged. He didn't really know why he was at the Burrow; it just seemed like the right place to be. Fred was gone, and Bill wanted his family around him. He couldn't pinpoint why; at the very least he could help them, giving him some sense of purpose.
"I have a few days before I have to go back to work," Bill said. "I decided to stop by to see if you or Mum needed me to do anything for you before that."
His father's face darkened. "You're going back already?" he quietly asked, the disapproval evident in his voice. "It hasn't even been a week since the funeral, Bill."
Bill nodded, absentmindedly rubbing one of the scars on his face. "I need to go back, Dad," he said. "I need to do something to get my mind off of everything. I need to feel like I'm doing something worthwhile, something useful."
Dad closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "I understand completely," he sighed. "The world is moving on, and we need to go along with it. We can't live in the past, no matter how much we want to. I'm just not quite there yet. But please don't overexert yourself, Bill. Take care of yourself."
"I will, Dad."
"And don't tell your mother that you're going back to work yet. She'll be upset if she hears that you aren't waiting at least another week."
"I wasn't planning on telling her. I don't want to be murdered in my sleep."
Dad let out a hollow laugh as he picked up one of the batteries on the table. "I hear you," he said, tossing it in the air. "But to answer your question, I don't think there's much you can do for me right now."
Bill leaned against the door of the shed. "You sure?"
"Yes," Dad nodded, tapping his finger on the workbench. Bill began to turn around to leave.
"Actually, now that I think about it, I have a question for you," his father suddenly remarked.
"What is it?"
"Have you seen Dean Thomas around anywhere?"
Bill was somewhat taken aback by his father's query. Dean had stayed with him and Fleur for a brief period after being rescued from Malfoy Manor, but Bill hadn't seen him since the Battle of Hogwarts. He'd been under the impression that he had returned home to London.
"No, I haven't," Bill answered. "Why? Is he missing or something?"
"Dean was staying with Seamus Finnigan after the battle," his father explained. "But a few weeks ago, Seamus woke up and Dean was gone. No one's seen him. Harry and Ron are making quite a racket about it to get the Auror Office involved, not that I blame them. I was just wondering if he might have returned to Shell Cottage."
Bill shook his head. "No, I would have mentioned him being there," he replied. "I hope he's okay."
"Me too, son."
"I'll be on the lookout, and if I hear anything, I'll let Ron know."
"Thank you," Dad said, turning back to his glass onion. "Oh, you know what you could do if you want to help out somewhere? Go visit Andromeda Tonks. Your mother mentioned that she has a fallen trellis in her garden and that she hasn't completely filled out the paperwork for Remus' and Tonks' funeral. Maybe you can help her with that."
Bill couldn't help but smile at his father's mention of Andromeda Tonks. He'd always liked the Tonks family, finding all of them welcoming and kind. As children, he, Charlie, and Percy spent many afternoons at their quiet home. Sometimes their parents would organize playdates between them and Tonks, but other times, Uncle Gideon would be tasked with watching his nephews and decide to use them as an excuse to visit Ted, who was a close friend of his.
Ted always greeted Bill with a big grin and let him either run around in the garden or sit in the study and read, whichever Bill preferred. His uncle's friend promised him that he'd watch his brothers closely for him while he had fun. The lack of responsibility was freeing, so different from when Bill was at home, where Mum and Dad relied on him to look out for his younger brothers while they took care of their youngest siblings or did chores. Andromeda encouraged him to be a kid in her own way as well, always pretending not to notice when he and Tonks stole biscuits from the jar on the kitchen counter. When it was time for him and his brothers to go home, Andromeda would sneakily hand Bill a bag with a few more biscuits to eat later.
"You don't have to share them with your brothers if you don't want to," she would whisper to him. "Save them for yourself, Bill."
But by far, Bill's favorite member of the family was Tonks. His Metamorphmagus friend was fun, imaginative, and when she wasn't busy getting into trouble, loyal and kind. She might have been clumsy, but Tonks would go above and beyond to help those she cared about. Tonks was easy to talk to, and on more than one occasion, Bill had confided his deepest concerns to her; he'd spilled his worries about the war, and she was among the first to know when he planned on proposing to Fleur. Tonks had been overjoyed for him, and once Bill introduced her to Fleur, he was pleased that the two of them got along well.
Perhaps the only frustration he had with Tonks was that for as much as she was there for others, she hated asking for help when she needed it, often bottling her feelings up until they overwhelmed her. Bill hadn't known how stressed she was about passing her Auror examination until months after it was over. He also hadn't known how upset she was over Remus dumping her until she completely fell apart; even then, she always tried to put on a smiling face for him.
Bill had been thrilled when Remus and Tonks announced their engagement. Not only was he happy that two of his good friends were getting married, but he was relieved that in the chaos leading up to the war, something was going right for them. That feeling of optimism was only amplified by the birth of their son. Bill didn't know Remus as well as he wanted to- he was so much older than Bill, after all- but was excited by the prospect of becoming even closer friends with him.
Obviously, that was never going to happen anymore; the news of their deaths had been devastating, as had that of Ted's the month before. He supposed he owed it to Tonks to visit her mother and her child. Bill had no idea what he was supposed to say to her, but just as how visiting the Burrow seemed to have been the right thing to do today, going to the Tonks home seemed like the correct next step.
Bill looked back at his father, who had used the lull in conversation to work on the onion. He was now hard at work twisting a red wire around it, letting the wire sit flush against the divets that spiraled around the onion's base. Bill cleared his throat to get Dad's attention.
"I'll go by Mrs. Tonks' in a few days and see if I can't help her," he said. "Maybe Fleur'll come too."
"She'd like that," Dad absentmindedly replied, although Bill wasn't sure which of Andromeda or Fleur he was referring to.
His father was lost in the world of Muggle electronics once again, so with a mumbled farewell, Bill left the shed, deciding to check on his mother one more time before heading back to Shell Cottage.
It was a hot Wednesday in August when eight-year-old Bill found himself face to face with a red dragon.
The entire Weasley family, sans Bill, had come down with dragon flu a few days earlier. His parents, overwhelmed with caring for four sick children, sent him to stay with Uncle Gideon and Auntie Ruth until they all got better. Bill was worried about his family, but secretly, he was glad that he was going to get his aunt and uncle all to himself for once. Unfortunately, though, they both had to work today, so Uncle Gideon dropped him off at the Tonks' house to play with Nymphadora until dinnertime.
Just after lunch, Mr. Tonks had taken both him and Nymphadora to a Muggle grocery store in the village near their home. They hadn't actually gone in the shop, but remained outside, where there was a strange machine with lights, stuffed dragons, and a giant metal claw-thing.
"Alright, you two," he grinned, taking a square leather coin pouch out of the pocket of his trousers. "We're not going home until both of you win! Who wants to go first?"
"Me! Me!" Nymphadora shouted, jumping up and down with such exuberance that her hat fell off. It was a special hat, charmed to prevent her Metamorphmagus abilities from working. Nymphadora told anyone who would listen- usually Bill and Charlie- how much she hated wearing it.
Mr. Tonks picked up the hat and knelt down, putting it back on his daughter's head. "Okay, Nymphadora," he said, unfolding the coin pouch. He reached inside a long pocket and gave her a handful of strange silver coins. "You first."
Bill watched as Nymphadora inserted a couple of the coins into the machine and moved the lever to make the metal claw move around. After about a minute, the claw opened, lowered itself, and closed its prongs around a yellow dragon. As it rose again, the dragon fell out of the claw and bounced to the far-left corner of the machine.
"So close!" Mr. Tonks cheered.
Nymphadora tried again and again, getting visibly more frustrated each time she failed to get the yellow dragon. Finally, after about ten tries, Mr. Tonks decided to have a go at it. He easily snagged it in in one attempt.
"Here you are, sweetheart," he said, handing it to her once he retrieved it from behind a shiny flat curtain at the bottom of the machine. "And now it's your turn, Bill!"
Bill immediately knew which dragon he wanted: the red and gold one near the front. He took a few coins from Mr. Tonks and inserted them into a funny slot, and all of a sudden, the machine began whirring. Bill moved the lever to try and line it up with the dragon, but it was very difficult. The claw wanted to move further than he was pushing it, and before Bill knew what was happening, it lowered itself next to the red dragon, failing to pick anything up at all.
His subsequent attempts were a bit more accurate, but Bill couldn't manage to get the hang of it. He felt like he was fighting the machine each time he moved the lever. After his fourth try, he decided to give up.
"I'm done," he sighed. "I didn't get it, but that's okay."
It was better this way. As his mother often reminded him, Bill was a big boy and would be going to Hogwarts in a few years. Even though he wanted the toy, stuffed dragons were for little kids, like Charlie. If Bill brought it back home, Mum and Dad would probably try to guilt him into giving the dragon to Charlie anyway, since he was currently obsessed with them. He was also the appropriate age for the toy, unlike Bill.
Mr. Tonks frowned at him suspiciously. "You sure?" he asked. "You can keep trying for a bit."
"It's fine," Bill sighed. He took another longing look at the red and gold dragon, wishing that things could be different.
Wordlessly, Mr. Tonks put some more coins in the machine. He maneuvered the claw above the red dragon and pressed the button on the lever to lower it. It rose up, the dragon held securely in its prongs. Bill was in awe of his friend's father's skill at this game. He wondered if he often practiced this game in his spare time.
"Here," Mr. Tonks grinned. "I'd like you to watch this guy for the rest of the day. Maybe if the two of you get along, he'll want to go back to your uncle's house for a sleepover. And if he says no, you're free to visit him whenever you want. You'll have to let me know what he says though, Bill, since I've forgotten how to speak dragon."
Later that evening, Bill informed Mr. Tonks that the dragon wanted to have a sleepover at Uncle Gideon's. In fact, they'd become such good friends that the dragon wanted to have a sleepover with Bill every night.
And when Bill finally went to Hogwarts, the red dragon came too.
I'd just put Teddy down for his morning nap when my doorbell rang. Setting the baby monitor on the table, I went to answer the door, confused as to why Harry had arrived two hours early to pick up his godson.
However, the person on the other side of the door was decidedly not Harry Potter.
"P-Professor Greene!" I stammered, ushering the man inside. "What are you doing here?"
Professor Elias Greene, a tall and athletic man with an angular jaw and graying dark hair, had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor during my seventh year at Hogwarts. He was one of the only people who had known that Ted and I were in a relationship while we attended school. Prior to his appointment at Hogwarts- as well as after it- Professor Greene had been an Auror with the Magical Congress of the United States. Though we had corresponded via owl sporadically through the years, it had been a very long time since I'd seen my former teacher. What had brought him to Britain?
"I haven't been your professor in decades, Andromeda," he said, taking his cloak off and putting it on the coatrack by the door. "Call me Elias."
"Yes, sir," I replied. "Sorry. Old habits die hard."
He let out a hearty laugh at that. "They do," he responded. "I arrived in Britain a couple of weeks ago. I thought that I'd stop by and say hello since I'm free today, you know, give my condolences and such. I heard about Ted and your daughter. I'm so sorry. If I'd known how bad things were going to get, I would have pushed MACUSA's Auror Office to help our British colleagues. The Department head has a soft spot for me and probably would have agreed."
"Thank you," I replied, touched by his kindness but eager to change the subject to something that wouldn't make me cry. "I'd love for you to meet Teddy Lupin- my grandson- but he's napping right now. I actually thought you were his godfather when you rang the bell. He's supposed visit later."
"I'm sorry if I'm intruding then. I can come back another time."
"No, it's fine. How long are you planning to remain in the country?"
"At least a year. I was invited by Kingsley to help restructure your Auror Office, but I've also accepted the invitation from Minerva McGonagall to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts while I'm here."
I smiled. Professor Greene was a talented Auror, and I had no doubt that he would be successful in both endeavors.
"Hogwarts is very lucky," I said. "You were probably one of the best professors I ever had in Defense. I'm glad that others will get to benefit from your instruction too. But please, come and sit for a while. I'd love to hear about what you've been up to lately, as well as your plans for the Auror Office."
We sat in the living room, and for the next half hour, my old teacher told me of the various cases he'd worked on while working at the American Ministry. They were tales of wonder, action, and close calls, and I felt a pang of sadness in my heart when I thought about how much Nymphadora and Remus would have loved to hear them too. It was too much for me to handle.
"Anyway, why don't you tell me about what you and Kingsley plan to do the Auror Office?" I suggested, discreetly wiping away a tear.
Professor Greene leaned forward. He'd chosen to occupy the pink armchair, which was barely big enough to contain his large frame. "Well, we mostly plan on restructuring it," he explained. "It's not set up very efficiently, and it looks like that missions are assigned based on availability and seniority, as opposed to ability and experience. I'm guessing that one of the reasons that there were so many casualties in both wars against Tom Riddle is that many Aurors were being sent on missions they couldn't handle. Decades of inconsistent instruction at Hogwarts definitely exacerbated that, so we're also planning on expanding the Trainee Program. Additionally, I'd like to see the Office implement more rigorous background checks and transparent guidelines for filing reports and creating cases. It's so disorderly and unclear right now that it's amazing that there haven't been more issues with corruption over there. Frankly, I'm shocked."
I shuddered. Ted and I had spent many sleepless nights worrying about our daughter's safety when she was on duty. To hear that she had been improperly trained and forced on missions that were above her skill level made me angry. It was well known that the Auror Office was underfunded, but playing with the safety of other people's lives instead of allocating more gold to train them was unacceptable.
"Well, thank Merlin you're going to try and fix it," I sighed, summoning two glasses from the kitchen. "Aguamenti. I wish you luck."
"Thank you," Professor Greene replied, taking one of the glasses of water from me. "I think it's fixable. Right now, I've been tasked with researching various issues and their solutions. But if I can convince Kingsley to implement all I want to, we should see visible progress within the year. Assuming that the Minister doesn't try to drag me into his little side project, that is."
I took a sip of water, intrigued. "What do you mean by that?"
"Honestly, it's remarkable that your government hasn't collapsed before now, given the state of things," he groaned. "A lot of Death Eaters are dead or being tried for treason, most of them older men and their younger sons."
I was beginning to see the problem. "Meaning that once convicted, they will be barred from sitting on the Wizengamot," I murmured. "That's what, about half of the hereditary seats empty? Can they even hold a quorum right now?"
My former instructor shook his head. "No, they can't," he said. "Of the one hundred seats, only forty-eight have living members. There will be some selections to the appointed seats this week to reach the fifty-one needed to hold proceedings. This war took a toll on everyone, though. Of the fifty hereditary seats, only about half have eligible witches and wizards who can sit on the Wizengamot. It's a mess. I'm not sure if the Minister intends to assign the empty seats to new families or if he wants to change how seats are passed on. I want no part of that chaos."
I didn't blame him. "There shouldn't be any hereditary seats to begin with," I remarked, playing with the hem of my sleeve. "They all should be appointed or elected. There would be less corruption that way."
"I'm with you there, Andromeda. That's the way it is in America. But it isn't as different as you think- nepotism and corruption still exist."
"Of course, but when half your officials are playing pureblood politics, progress is exceedingly stunted. Hopefully, Kingsley can correct that too."
Professor Greene gave me a half-hearted smile. Clearly, he didn't believe much was going to change. "We can only hope," he said, slapping his knees and rising from the couch. "Anyway, I'm due back at the Ministry soon. It was good to catch up though. Maybe the next time I see you, it won't take decades."
I smiled again. "I'd like that," I said. "I sincerely wish you the best of luck with both your students and the Ministry."
He scratched his head. "Thanks, I'll need it," he replied, taking a few colorful brochures with dueling wizards on them out of his robes and tossing them on the table. "Here, these are a few pamphlets I've made up to pass around at the Ministry. If you're interested in my proposed changes to the Auror Office, you can read more about them there."
"Thank you," I said, knowing that I probably wouldn't look at them. After a firm handshake and a promise to remain in touch, Professor Greene apparated away.
About an hour later, Teddy woke up, and a shortly after, Harry arrived via Floo.
"Hi, Mrs. Tonks," he said, brushing some ash out of his messy hair.
"Wotcher, Harry," I replied. Teddy and I were on the couch playing with a crinkly fox toy that I'd found when shopping last week. I began to gather my grandson up and summoned his baby carrier.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry staring at the pamphlets that Professor Greene had left on the table.
At least someone's interested in them, I thought to myself.
"You can take those with you, if you'd like," I said.
"What are they?" he asked. "They look suggestions to fix the DMLE."
"An old friend of mine wants to help Kingsley restructure the Auror Office," I explained, strapping Teddy securely in the carrier. He let out a small noise and I smiled at him. "Those are brochures with some of his proposed changes."
Harry instantly pocketed the pamphlets. "I'm going to be in the Auror Trainee program once it starts up again," he explained eagerly. "Oh, I've just moved into Grimmauld Place permanently, by the way. The commute to the Ministry is better than from the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley wasn't too happy, but it's time for me to move on and stand on my own. I feel a bit bad about that."
I smiled at Harry, trying my hardest to hide my feelings of melancholy and guilt. This poor boy who had been alone for so long barely knew peace, and he already wanted to save more people. His bravery and tenacity reminded me of Nymphadora, Remus, and Gideon Prewett.
Placing Teddy and his carrier on the floor, I walked over to Harry. "You will be a wonderful Auror," I said softly, putting my hand on his shoulder. "And as for moving out, Molly will eventually understand. One of the hardest things for parents to understand is that our children grow up and need to forge their own paths. I won't bore you with any speeches about how you're not alone in life- you already know that. As for living at Grimmauld Place, I'm not sure why anyone would want to live there, but it's your decision."
"It makes me feel closer to Sirius, even though he hated it there," Harry explained. "I'm sorry, that probably makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense, Harry. I'm glad that at least one person considers it a happy home."
"Do you mind if I bring Teddy there today? It's perfectly safe now and Kreacher helped me baby-proof several rooms. We've even set up a nursery."
"Of course you can. It's a family home for him too, after all."
As if he knew we were talking about him, Teddy made a noise that was almost a babble. I turned around and smiled at him again.
Harry let out a long sigh and hung his head. "I'm actually a bit nervous about the Auror Trainee program," he admitted. "I've already faced a bunch of terrible stuff, but Tonks and Kingsley told me before that the program is really, really tough. Or at least it was when Mad-Eye ran it."
I laughed. "From my understanding, 'a bunch of terrible stuff,' is severely underselling all your accomplishments," I said. "Harry, you took down a dark wizard and his entire army. That's more than most Aurors will accomplish in an entire lifetime."
"I know, but still…"
"You're right though, Nymphadora found the trainee program difficult," I continued, crossing my arms over my chest. "Perhaps she could…"
I trailed off as a cold wave passed over me, and I shivered. I'd been about to suggest that Harry ask Nymphadora for tips on passing the Auror Trainee program. But she couldn't. Not anymore, at least. My vision filled with tears.
Harry seemed to realize what had just occurred. He stared at his feet and awkwardly hugged me, barely touching me as he pulled me into an embrace. I placed my hands on his back. After a moment, I became so thoroughly embarrassed that I pulled away. He had enough problems of his own to be bogged down by mine. I was the one he should be relying on, not the other way around.
Silently, Harry walked over to Teddy's carrier and picked it up, briefly mumbling a goodbye before Flooing away.
Once they were gone, I collapsed onto the couch and cried.
Tonks sat at the bar of The Leaky Cauldron, sulking as she nursed her firewhisky. It seemed that all she ever did was sulk anymore. She sulked so much that she couldn't do anything- couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't use her Metamorphmagus abilities.
The door to the nearly empty bar opened, and Tonks spied Fleur Delacour, whom she was there to meet. She waved Fleur over, and her friend took a seat next to Tonks and ordered a spiked butterbeer from Tom the barman.
"I 'ave some great news!" Fleur beamed, holding up her left hand. On its fourth finger was a gold and diamond ring. "Bill proposed!"
Tonks smiled widely. "Congratulations!" she exclaimed. "You two are so great together! I knew this would happen soon!"
"Maman and Papa are so 'appy!" her friend replied. "Zey love Bill. Zey are going to send me some zings about what is popular for weddings in France right now. Bill said I can pick ze colors and flowers without his input."
"Hopefully Molly won't mind a Parisian wedding," Tonks grinned. She suspected that Molly Weasley had had a vision of Bill's wedding in her head for years, one that did not match what Fleur wanted.
Fleur's smile vanished. "Bill's maman… she isn't pleased about ze engagement," she said, taking her drink from Tom, who turned around to wipe some already sparkling clean glasses. Tonks could tell he was eavesdropping on them.
"She keeps making comments when she zinks I can't hear about 'ow I'm not good enough for Bill," she continued, crinkling her nose. "Like 'ow she zinks I will leave 'im if I become a citizen and 'ow I'm too young for 'im… I think she probably was 'oping zat you would marry 'im, Tonks."
Tonks snorted. Bill was a good friend, but not her type at all. "I'm more into dark and broody men," she said. "Bill isn't either of those things. And I like blokes who are much older than me."
Blokes like Remus… Tonks thought to herself, taking a large gulp of firewhisky to stop herself from crying again.
"I know my Veela blood makes others suspicious of me," Fleur whispered. "And my English is bad."
"Rubbish. Your English is miles better than my French."
"I sound dumb in English. I can't say what I'm zinking."
"Bill doesn't care about that."
"Bill speaks French. 'E got to learn who I am in French."
Tonks put a gentle hand on Fleur's shoulder. "And eventually, Molly will learn who you are too," she said. "It might take a bit, but she'll learn how bloody smart you are one day. You were a Triwizard champion! That means something, you know."
Fleur crinkled her nose again as she sipped her butterbeer. "Maybe," she sighed, pushing some of her silky blonde hair behind her ear. "But why isn't any of zat good enough for Bill's maman now?"
"She's just overprotective of her son," Tonks said, staring into her half-empty firewhisky. "Most parents are like that. Mine were when I was with Remus."
Mum and Dad had never outright said they disapproved of her relationship with him, but they didn't hide their feelings about it either. And Tonks could hardly blame them for their skepticism; Remus was older, usually unemployed, and a werewolf to boot. They obviously thought she deserved someone better.
Maybe they were right, she thought to herself. He did leave me, after all.
Remus wasn't a bad guy, even though he thought otherwise. He'd dumped her using the classic "it's not you, it's me," refusing to listen to any of Tonks' objections. Yes, he'd had valid concerns about how they would handle his lycanthropy and perpetual joblessness if they got more serious, but they would have found a way! They were happy together! Why didn't that mean anything to him?
"Tonks?" Fleur asked. "Are you okay?"
She realized that she was clutching her firewhisky so tightly that her knuckles were white. Tonks let go of the glass.
"I'm fine, Fleur," she replied. Now was not the time to rain on a Fleur's parade with her own romantic woes. "Anyway, like I said, Molly will come around. I'm kind of jealous, actually. If Remus and I get back together, I doubt my parents will ever like him!"
She forced out a laugh, but Fleur only looked at her with sympathy.
"Zey will come around too," she insisted. "One day, everyone will get along with each other…"
Fleur absentmindedly browsed through the hangers on the rack of summer clothes at Madam Malkin's. Meanwhile, on the other side of the rack, her mother-in-law was comparing the prices between a dark green skirt and a chocolate brown jumper. Fleur very much didn't want to shop for clothing with Mrs. Weasley, but since they were actively trying to find some sort of bonding activity to get to know each other better, she felt compelled to accept her mother-in-law's frequent invitations to Diagon Alley.
"How are you and Bill doing, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, barely audible over the din of other shoppers.
"We are…" Fleur started, but trailed off. There was no way for her to adequately convey that the events of the past year had taken a toll on them, but that in the long run, they would be okay. She had the words to express this in French, but not English. She racked her brain for the proper word. Was it "weary?" "Fatigued?" "Melancholic?" She couldn't remember the precise connotations of each of those choices.
"We are good," she finally decided. It wasn't true; they were far from well, but it was easier than struggling over what to say for ten minutes while her mother-in-law's fake smile slowly morphed into a disapproving frown. And in truth, Fleur didn't want to worry her mother-in-law. Nevertheless, Mrs. Weasley's upturned lips and furrowed brow indicated that she didn't believe Fleur's statement anyway.
"And you?" Fleur asked, hoping that this would be the end of their banal small talk.
"I'm fine," Mrs. Weasley stiffly replied. Fleur sighed; it seemed that both of them were lying today, although in her case, she literally couldn't tell the truth, lacking the proper language to do so.
Fleur took a pale pink set of robes with a V-neck collar off the rack. They were fashionable, unlike almost everything else in the store. "What do you zink?" she asked Mrs. Weasley.
Her mother-in-law crinkled her nose. "It's a bit too revealing, don't you think, dear?" she replied.
Fleur thought the robes were actually quite modest. On a witch with a larger bust, the cut of the garment would highlight her cleavage, but on Fleur's body, the robes would hug her slim figure in a very attractive way. Sighing, she put returned the robes to their proper place and took a turquoise sundress with an open back off the rack. Mrs. Weasley crinkled her nose at that dress too, obviously thinking that this one was also scandalous. Fleur put that one back as well, and decided that she'd buy clothes on her own time, without Mrs. Weasley present.
She missed her mother. Maman had impeccable fashion sense and never belittled any of Fleur's outfit choices; in fact, Maman would tell her to wear the low-cut and open-backed dresses and robes while she was young and they flattered her body. Fleur missed the afternoons that she, Maman, and Gabrielle spent in Paris, where they would shop at little boutiques and sit in quiet cafés until the sun began to set. She missed the rolling green hills of her family's estate in the countryside. She missed the warm air and temperate weather. Fleur loved her new homeland, but she missed France. In her eyes, Britain could never compare.
"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, putting back the green skirt but keeping the jumper. "I think I'm just about done here. Are you all set, dear?"
Fleur nodded. The sooner this outing was over, the better. She wished that she could skip straight to the point where she understood English fluently and could accurately express herself to her mother-in-law.
Because she didn't know if she couldn't take another day of this.
When Fleur returned home, Bill suggested that they go and visit Andromeda Tonks.
"We haven't seen her since the battle," he explained. "And Mum said that she needs some help in the garden and with filling out some forms for Tonks' and Remus' funeral next week."
While Fleur didn't really want to go out again, she agreed. Tonks had been her friend too, and it was the least she could do to check up on her mother. And Fleur admittedly also wanted to see Tonks' cute little baby boy.
They apparated directly onto the front porch of the Tonks home, a picturesque woodland cottage that reminded Fleur grandfather's summer home, near the Landes Forest in Aquitaine. She moved to ring the doorbell when her husband stopped her.
"Listen," Bill said, pointing to the gate on the fence that led to the garden. Fleur heard the sound of running water coming from that direction. "I think she's out back."
Hand in hand, they went through the gate and meandered into the garden. Fleur let out a gasp as she admired its spectacle. She'd been to Tonks' childhood home before, but the garden never ceased to amaze her, no matter how many times she saw it. Dozens of large garden beds filled the enormous backyard, each of them filled with various flowers: crisp red roses, towering sunflowers, tulips of every color, fragrant gardenias, aromatic French lavender, and even more beautiful blooms that Fleur didn't know the names of in either French or English.
Mrs. Tonks was standing in front of a bed with pink, purple, and red round flowers, water cascading down from her wand as she pointed it at the dirt surrounding them. The bright sun above caused rainbows to refract above the resulting mist, trapping her in a halo of colors
When Mrs. Tonks caught sight of her visitors, she cancelled the spell and turned toward them.
"I must be popular," she said. The resentment in her voice was palpable. Fleur could hardly blame the woman; she'd likely been inundated with well-wishers for the past month. "You are the third and fourth visitors I've had today."
"If now's a bad time, we can come back later," Bill replied softly, his gaze fixed upon the flowers. From his expression, Fleur could tell he was attempting to solve some sort of puzzle in his mind. She could practically hear the gears in his brain turning as he thought.
Mrs. Tonks waved her hand in front of her face. Fleur saw that for some reason, it was trembling. "No, it's fine," she sighed. "But if you wanted to see Teddy, you're out of luck. Harry came by earlier and took him to Grimmauld Place."
Fleur felt slightly deflated. Half of the reason she'd tagged along was to see him.
"Those flowers," Bill remarked quietly. "I saw the same ones on Uncle Gideon's grave during Fred's… Fred's…"
"Yes," Mrs. Tonks replied, saving him from finishing the sentence. "I put them there before the funeral started."
"What kind of flower is it?" Fleur asked, giving her husband's hand a comforting squeeze.
"They're zinnias," Mrs. Tonks answered. She turned to Bill. "They were your Aunt Ruth's favorite. I try to leave some for her every time I visit. She was my best friend."
Bill withdrew his hand and shoved it in his pocket. "I thought Mum might have left them," he admitted. "They're nice."
Fleur nodded in agreement. They were beautiful and bright, unlike most of the world right now.
Mrs. Tonks glanced at the zinnias again. "Muggles assign meanings to some flowers," she said. "Zinnias mean 'thoughts of absent friends.' I don't think Ruth understood just how prescient that was…"
Fleur bit her lower lip. She had no idea what "prescient" meant. There was a similar word in French, but she had no idea if it shared the same meaning. Too many words in English had different meanings than the ones that looked identical in French, and she could never manage to keep any of them straight. She found it was often better not to assume their meanings and look the words up later.
"Anyway, was there something I could help you with?" Mrs. Tonks asked, a small smile on her face. "I doubt you two simply came by just to say hello."
"We did just want to say hello, but Mum and also mentioned you needed a bit of help with things," Bill explained. "We'll help fix your trellis and fill out the papers for the funerals next week."
Mrs. Tonks' eyes narrowed suspiciously as they darted between Fleur and her husband. "I fixed the fallen trellis last week," she said. "I might be getting old, but I can still use magic. As for the papers, I'll fill them out eventually. You don't need to help with that. I'm sure you're both plenty busy as it is."
"Er, well, I had no idea about the trellis," Bill replied with a nervous laugh. "But let us help you with those forms. Tonks was our friend. So was Remus. We want to help, Andromeda."
Mrs. Tonks looked at Bill with what Fleur could only describe as an expression of pity. "You stretch yourself too thin, Bill," she sighed, shaking her head. "You go out of your way to help everyone, but leave nothing left for yourself. And you're hurting too."
"I'm really-"
"She's right," Fleur cut in, grateful that at least one other person bothered to notice her husband's predilection for self-sacrifice. "You always are helping people: me, your maman and papa, your brothers, your friends… but you never stop to take care of you."
Bill hung his head. "I know," he mumbled, blush rising up his cheeks. "But they need me. You need me too, Fleur. And right now, helping you, Andromeda, is the best way I can honor Tonks' and Remus' memories."
Fleur and Mrs. Tonks sighed in unison. She exchanged an exasperated glance with the older woman, and Fleur could tell that they were both thinking the same thing: Bill wasn't going to budge, at the very least, not today.
"Very well," Mrs. Tonks said curtly, gesturing them to follow her into her home.
She led them to the kitchen and Bill sat down at the small wooden table. At least, Fleur assumed the table's top was made of the same light wood as its legs, as she couldn't see it at all. The table was covered in haphazard piles of half-filled documents, its discordant and chaotic appearance clashing with the rest of the meticulously tidy home. Fleur immediately spotted the death certificates of Tonks and Lupin. She shuddered; the fact that she was only twenty-one and could identify death certificates at a glance disturbed her greatly.
"I see you've already gotten half the information filled in for the funeral parlor," Bill said as Fleur took the seat next to him. Mrs. Tonks sat down opposite Bill. She looked tired, and although sunlight streamed through the small window across the room, shadows obscured her expression. Fleur suspected that just like Bill, Mrs. Tonks was hiding her discomfort and pain for their benefit.
"Yes, I just haven't gotten around to finishing," she replied, staring at the floor.
The conversation turned to the specifics of the upcoming funeral. Bill seemed to have the process to complete the necessary tasks down pat; he would take a form, gently ask their host for the necessary information, and fill it out himself. He would then pass the completed form to Fleur, who, feeling somewhat unnecessary and useless, was attempting to organize the mess of documents on the table. She wanted to help more, but there were too many unfamiliar words. What was "executrix?" What did "probate" mean? Was an "undertaker" someone who took the information from these forms and used it do something underneath… something else? That couldn't be correct. Fleur let out a loud sigh and stared at her folded hands in her lap.
"Fleur?" Mrs. Tonks asked softly. Her face was fraught with worry. "Are you alright?"
Bill put a soothing hand on Fleur's shoulder. "I think we lost her," he said.
"I'm sorry," Fleur apologized. "I cannot really help you with zis task. Zese papers 'ave too many words that I don't know."
Mrs. Tonks' eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. "I'm the one who should apologize," she remarked, staring at her feet. "I'm being quite the dreadful hostess. I'm so sorry."
"You're not," Fleur said, scooting her chair closer to the table. "It's just-"
"Why don't we switch to French? That way we can all participate in the conversation equally," Mrs. Tonks replied. Fleur let out a gasp; her friend's mother was speaking perfect Parisian French, albeit her accent was about a century out of fashion.
"You speak French?!" Bill asked, a look of shock on his face too.
Mrs. Tonks nodded. "Yes, my mother's family was French," she explained, pushing a strand of her ash brown hair behind her ear. "I learned it as a child. I must apologize in advance though, as my opportunities for using it are quite limited. I'm afraid that I'm rather rusty."
They quickly completed the rest of the forms. Fleur was overjoyed; apart from Bill and a few of her colleagues at Gringotts, people rarely went out of their way to accommodate her in conversations by speaking French. Most British people she knew expected her to speak English; Fleur begrudgingly had to admit that that was reasonable of them, considering that she was an immigrant. Still, though, it was nice to finally have another person she could properly speak to.
Fleur and Bill remained at the Tonks home for a while after, their conversations turning to the mundane particulars of their first year of marriage and the various trials and tribulations they had overcome throughout the course of their relationship. Mrs. Tonks told them a few embarrassing stories about her daughter, and Bill explained how he first noticed Fleur when she'd been not so subtly staring at him the day before the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament.
Now that she finally had the words, Fleur even expressed her frustration over her in-laws not quite understanding or accepting her.
"That'll come in time," Mrs. Tonks had assured her, smiling. "You have the rest of your lives to show them who you are, Fleur. Remember, you come from a very different culture than the Weasleys, and it'll take a while for all of you to understand each other's experiences."
"But what if that doesn't happen?" Fleur exclaimed. "What if they never like me?"
"Then we don't have to see them," Bill replied. "Marrying you means that I'll pick you over them every time."
"I don't think it will come to that," Mrs. Tonks said. "When I married Ted, it took years for his family, mostly his mother, to learn who I was. Not only did they have to accept that Ted would never live in the same world they did, but they also needed to come to terms with the fact that he chose to marry someone who didn't understand the world that they lived in. You only have to deal with another culture, not another world entirely, so I think it will take less time for you."
Fleur knew very little about Tonks' parents' relationship, but from the little bits and pieces that her friend had let slip, she'd gathered that while they loved each other, the people around them hadn't been supportive of their marriage, at least not initially. Mrs. Tonks' family had gone so far as to disown her. Fleur suddenly felt somewhat guilty; she was very lucky that her mother-in-law was at least trying to get to know her and not blasting her eldest son off the non-existent Weasley family tapestry. Mrs. Tonks was correct; there was hope for her relationship with the various members of the Weasley clan that weren't too fond of her. Perhaps, with time, Fleur and Mrs. Weasley would become exceedingly close.
After a bit more small talk, Bill and Fleur took their leave.
"I cannot thank you enough for letting me speak French," Fleur said as she and Bill stood on the front steps of the Tonks home. She couldn't help but smile. "For the first time in months, I feel like I can truly say what I'm feeling to someone other than Bill."
Mrs. Tonks smiled. "You're very welcome," she replied, leaning against the doorframe. "If you ever want a conversation partner, feel free to drop by. Merlin knows I could use the practice."
"We'll see you next week," Bill sighed, staring off to the side.
The older woman's face fell. An uneasy silence fell among them, and a shiver prickled the hairs on the back of Fleur's neck.
"Yes," Mrs. Tonks said. "Next week."
She slowly shut the front door, which Fleur took as their cue to leave. She didn't want to think about her friend's funeral anymore. And from his dour expression, she could tell that Bill didn't either.
Taking his hand in hers, she disapparated them home.
A few days later, I was irrationally angry.
I supposed it made sense; I had lost so much. Why had this happened to me? Considering all the abuse my family had put me through before I turned seventeen, hadn't I suffered enough? And what had poor Teddy done in his first month of life that warranted losing his parents? Was this some sort of sick and twisted karma for daring to live the life I wanted, one that was doomed to be passed down to all my descendants?
Fortunately, Teddy was in a good mood- at least, as good of a mood as an infant could be. He didn't fuss when I fed him formula and was content to be entertained by the dinosaur mobile above his special seat in the living room, an enchantment causing the reptiles to spin around of their own accord. I took the opportunity to try and blow off some anger by continuing to knit the unfinished baby blanket in my knitting basket nearby. It was no use though; I was so distracted by my rage at the world that I couldn't focus on the pattern. Somehow, I was two stitches off. I sighed, knowing that I would have to count all of the stitches in the row to find the mistake.
Knit, yarn over, knit, knit, purl, knit, yarn over… it was no use, the math seemed right, meaning the mistake had happened at least a row prior. Anger flowed through me again, and I tossed the project back into the basket. I couldn't be bothered to rip everything back and redo it. Not when I was going to have to attend another funeral next week. Not when what little mental strength I had was going to vanish into the ether as soon as my child and her husband were laid to rest.
I looked over at Teddy, who was trying his best to touch the stegosaurus, a curious gleam in his still blue eyes. How long would it be before he forgot his parents entirely? Had it already happened? From where I sat on the living room sofa, I could only see Teddy's profile. He looked so much like Nymphadora… and by extension, Ted.
I missed them so much.
The little church that Nymphadora's and Remus' funeral was being conducted in was packed to the brim with our family and friends. There were not enough pews to contain the various work colleagues, Order of the Phoenix members, Ministry workers, and family who wanted to attend. Those who hadn't come early spilled into the foyer of the church, leaning against its walls in lieu of sitting.
Rainbow light filtered through the mosaic stained-glass windows adorning the walls of the chapel, its chromatic brightness almost mocking in its radiance, each sunbeam laughing as it shined through the colored panels to grace us with its presence. The church should have been nostalgic- I'd gotten married here a lifetime ago- but after today, I didn't think I'd ever be able to walk inside and be reminded of the happy memories. I'd only remember the funerals of my husband, daughter, and son-in-law.
Hope and Lyall Lupin's graves were in a small cemetery in Wiltshire, but due to Remus' lycanthropy, he was barred from being buried there. As such, my mother-in-law insisted that we have the funeral service at her church on the outskirts of Colchester, and no one dared to argue against Janet Tonks over this. We could bury Remus and Nymphadora near Ted and the rest of the Tonks family in the adjacent cemetery, as lycanthropy didn't exist in the Muggle world. I was completely fine with this outcome, and in fact, I almost preferred it.
The pastor, Father MacKenzie, was speaking up at the front of the church, probably extolling the virtues of Remus and Nymphadora, whom he'd barely known. I wasn't listening though; Teddy had realized that something was very wrong with this entire situation, and he was crying loudly. He was refusing a bottle of Milk Potion that I'd laced with infant-safe Sleeping Draught, and no matter how much I shifted him, he refused to calm down. My mother-in-law sat next to me, clutching my shoulder and sobbing. On her other side, my father-in-law soothingly rubbed her back. Ted's sisters sat to my left, holding each other as they quietly cried, with Eva's partner and Millie's husband and children sitting behind us.
Everyone around me was crying, but I was unable to. I had no tears left. Instead, I simply felt numb. All of my anger from the prior days had left me, but I was hardly at peace. Dread and anguish filled my soul, blocking out all other sensations. I could no longer hear my grandson crying in my arms, my legs felt like they had become one with the floor, and before long, time ceased to move properly.
At some point, the ceremony ended, and everyone in the church moved outside. The haziness of mourning and sorrow continued distorting reality, and before I knew it, they were lowering Remus' and Nymphadora's coffins into the ground. Something broke within me, and I struggled to breathe.
Teddy had finally fallen asleep in my arms. I was grateful that he was so young; not only was he going to be spared the memory of this awful day, but I couldn't imagine having to explain to him why his parents were being buried in the ground as it was happening.
Father MacKenzie was leading everyone in some sort of prayer, but I couldn't have heard it if I tried. The pungent stench of freshly dug graves filled the air, and I began experiencing every awful feeling and physical sensation at once: sadness, anger, fear, dizziness, heart palpitations, and nausea, to name a fraction of them. The priest finished his prayer, and Eva tearfully addressed the crowd with a eulogy, which only made me feel worse. A buzzing filled my ears, and I looked around for something to focus on to steady myself.
I caught sight of the headstone exactly one row behind Remus' and Nymphadora's- the one that belonged to Ted. It sparkled in the sun, and unlike the weathered stones surrounding it, it had crisp and sharp lettering. The grass at the foot of the stone hadn't fully grown in yet, and large patches of brown dirt remained devoid of any green. It was a painful reminder that he had taken from this world only a short time ago.
I didn't want to have to accept that he was gone. Not yet at least.
I hadn't visited him since his funeral. It was too painful. I knew that Ted would understand, but still, I felt ashamed, especially since I'd gone to see Gideon and Ruth Prewett's graves not one week prior. A tidal wave of guilt and heartbreak washed over me, drenching my inner thoughts in shame and disgrace. Amidst the chaotic storm silent grief inside me, I vaguely heard Harry giving a eulogy for Remus. However, his precise words were lost on me as I drifted through the currents of my grief like a feather in the wind.
My heart was loudly crying out, clamoring at me to go over to Ted and dig up the earth, so I could lie down next to him for all eternity.
Thank you to Hedwig for the very kind review! I'm glad you appreciated Narcissa's reflections on her sisters and their childhood. The relationship between the three Black sisters and how their individual personalities and decisions influenced each other is something that I've spent a great deal of time thinking about myself (obviously). As for reconciliation, Narcissa's decision to pursue a relationship with Andromeda ultimately could be due to many factors. Maybe in this new and unfamiliar wizarding world, she wants to banish the ghosts of her past for good, longing for a time before she and her only living sister were at odds with each other. Maybe she simply wants the political benefits of being the sister of a mother whose child died a war hero. Narcissa certainly believes she's being genuine, but Andromeda isn't convinced that her litter sister doesn't have an agenda. So, which is it? I leave it to you to continue reading and decide for yourself.
Zinnias, as Andromeda informs us in this chapter, represent thinking about absent friends and lasting affection. Given that Bill, Fleur, and Andromeda have all lost people close to them within the past year (and in Andromeda's case, the last war), I thought that they were a good choice for this chapter to represent their mindset. They are a popular summer flower due to their bright colors and how easy they are to grow.
I'm kind of surprised that this chapter didn't end up longer, given that the next few ended up being quite lengthy. I suppose that's on me, since I packed a bunch more plot into them in my outline than I initially realized.
For the next two weeks, we will be spending some time with the snapdragons.