starfishstar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starfishstar) wrote2013-05-29 01:22 pm
starfishstar) wrote2013-05-29 01:22 pm
Entry tags:
Saying Yes, chapter 2
SAYING YES chapter 2
Summary: At 17, Andromeda Black thought being in love was everything. At 57, Andromeda Tonks knew better. Yet the first time Kingsley Shacklebolt asked her out, she surprised herself by saying yes.
Characters: Andromeda Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Teddy Lupin and ensemble (Harry! Ginny! Molly! Kingsley's kids! All the Potters and Weasleys!)
Warnings: None
Chapters: 15
Story:
CHAPTER TWO
They were both at Platform 9 ¾ on September the first that year.
Andromeda looked up from adjusting a strap on Teddy's trunk to see Kingsley coming toward her, shepherding two children. It was the first time she'd set eyes on Alastor and Emmeline in person, although Kingsley was always happy to show off their photographs.
Alastor looked wide-eyed and anxious, though Andromeda assumed that could be put down to start-of-term nerves. Emmeline was giggling over something.
"Morning, Andromeda," Kingsley said jovially, every inch the professional acquaintances they were when in public together. She appreciated that about him.
"Good morning, Kingsley," she said, and for all her intentions to maintain a decorous public relationship, she couldn't help smiling at him a little more softly than she'd quite meant to. "This must be Alastor? And Emmeline?"
"Kids, this is my colleague Andromeda Tonks," Kingsley told them.
"How do you do, Mrs Tonks," Alastor said, reaching out to shake her hand in a very grown-up fashion, and Emmeline repeated dreamily after him.
"And Teddy, you know who Mr Shacklebolt is," Andromeda said. "This is my grandson, Teddy," she told Kingsley's son and daughter. "He's starting his third year."
Looking at Teddy next to anxious little Alastor, she was struck again by just how grown-up and confident he was.
"That's right!" Teddy said cheerfully. "I'm in Ravenclaw." He considered Alastor. "You're starting this year?"
"Uh-huh," Alastor said.
"Well, you can sit with me on the train, if you want," Teddy offered. "I'm gonna meet a bunch of my mates and we've got an Exploding Snap tournament we've been waiting to start up again since June, you can play too, if you want. Hey, maybe you'll be in Ravenclaw!" Alastor's eyes went wider. Teddy turned to Kingsley and declared, "Don't worry, Mr Shacklebolt. I'll look after him."
Kingsley grinned, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Comes by the take-charge attitude honestly, then."
Andromeda shook her head and smiled and told Teddy, "Go on, then, I know you want to find your friends and get a good seat on the train. I'll help you with your trunk."
"I'll do it," Kingsley said, and before Andromeda could protest, he was lifting Teddy's trunk into the nearest wagon, Alastor's joining it shortly afterward.
Andromeda kissed Teddy on both his cheeks, then on the top of his head for good measure – goodness, he'd grown yet again – and made him promise to write. Kingsley enfolded his son in his arms, then the whistle sounded and everywhere around them children were scrambling onto the train. The doors clanged shut and the train began to move.
Emmeline ran after the train as it belched steam and began to pick up speed, waving to her brother until the train was moving too fast and she had to fall behind. She turned at the end of the platform and looked back at her father, her mouth falling into an O of surprise as if she'd only just that moment realised her brother really had left.
She started back down the platform slowly, chin quivering just a little, and Kingsley hurried to meet her. "I think this is a day that calls for ice-cream sundaes, Em, don't you?" he asked. Emmeline nodded, just barely, and Kingsley turned to Andromeda. "Mrs Tonks? Care to join us?"
Andromeda started to decline, then remembered that the only other thing she had to do that day was sit at home and miss Teddy, so she said, "Yes, thank you, I'd love to." To her surprise, Emmeline slipped her other hand into Andromeda's as the three of them walked together out of the station and into the bright sun.
"Diagon Alley?" Kingsley asked. "New Fortescue's? I'm thinking maybe the super triple raspberry with chocolate sauce and singing sprinkles?"
Emmeline gave a watery nod.
Kingsley nodded back at his daughter sagely. "All right, that's settled for me then, but Em, what will you have?"
Emmeline giggled, and Andromeda actually laughed.
– – – – –
There was a dinner that autumn, attended by much of the old Order of the Phoenix as well as several more progressive members of the Wizengamot, to honour the passage of a last major post-war revision, long-awaited, to wizarding law.
Thirteen years on, young Hermione Granger had marched her way through house-elf legislation, non-discrimination toward werewolves, rights for all Beings and Beasts, and legal codification of Muggle protection, to arrive at the last bastion of her assault: inheritance law.
Female as well as male children could now inherit, property passing automatically to the eldest unless the parents' will stipulated otherwise. When Andromeda saw Harry at the dinner that evening, he tried to use the new law as grounds to argue yet again that 12 Grimmauld Place should rightfully belong to Andromeda rather than him, but that was silly, and Andromeda told him so.
"Really, Harry, what would I even do with that old place?" she asked, when he opened his mouth again to protest. "Keep it, with my blessing."
He looked ready to start arguing again, so she directed him gently toward his seat at the long table they'd reserved at a restaurant just off Diagon Alley, and went to find her own place. As she made her way around the table, Andromeda passed Kingsley's Emmeline, sweetly reading a picture book to little Lily in one corner. Near them, Harry's older two, James and Al, appeared to be having some sort of strange wrestling match that involved their toy wands but no hands.
Rose and Hugo, the two small children Hermione had managed to raise while working her way up through the Ministry and conducting her own private studies of wizarding law on the side, were playing happily under the table.
As she passed, Andromeda overheard Hermione saying to Ginny, "Honestly, I can't believe it's taken this long." Hermione radiated energy. "Thirteen years! When it's all so simple, really, once you just track down and compile the right precedents…"
Personally, Andromeda couldn't believe how much Hermione had accomplished in such a short space of time, whatever the younger woman might think. There was certainly a way in which Hermione reminded Andromeda of herself at a much younger age, when she'd still believed she had the power to make change.
But where Andromeda had grown fed up with the glacial pace of change in the wizarding world and let her anger drive her out of the Ministry, Hermione hadn't given up – and she'd achieved the seemingly impossible. Andromeda hoped Hermione held onto that determination for a long time yet.
Reaching her place at the table, Andromeda found that Kingsley had somehow contrived to be seated next to her. And as Hermione stood to say a few words of thanks to the assembled witches and wizards, Kingsley's hand found Andromeda's under the table. She flushed first with surprise, then pleasure, then turned surreptitiously to see his eyes sparkling at her with amusement.
"You know you're half the reason this law passed," Kingsley said, as Hermione sat down and the first course was served.
"I'm sorry?" Andromeda replied, bewildered.
"Well, you don't have to apologise for it, though some eldest male children in pure-blood families might wish you would," he grinned, and released her hand so they could both pick up their forks. "Hermione's been telling me how much of the legal legwork you did on this. Said she never would have had a case if you hadn't shown her where to look for the precedents. I don't pretend to have followed everything she explained to me, but it sounded quite impressive, how she said it. She looks up to you, you know."
"I – Hermione – me?" Andromeda fumbled, at a rare loss for words.
Kingsley smiled again. "Indeed. You, Hermione, you. You're an impressive woman, Andromeda."
Before Andromeda could think what to answer him, they were distracted by a series of small bangs. Little Rose Weasley, at that age where she was just starting to come into her magic, had accidentally set her entire place setting alight, and her father Ron was dousing Rose and everything around her with water from his wand.
"Easy there, she's a five-year-old, not a dragon," Harry teased Ron, who was now trying to siphon away the puddle he'd created on the table, while Hermione rolled her eyes.
Andromeda smiled, watching Molly scoop up her soaking wet granddaughter, both of them laughing now Rose was over the initial shock.
Over dessert and under the cover of the general chatter, Kingsley murmured in Andromeda's ear, "Em has a sleepover at a friend's place this weekend and I'll be rattling round the house alone. Could I convince you to come over and let me cook for you?"
Andromeda looked at Kingsley in surprise, and his eyes on her were uncharacteristically earnest.
"Yes, all right," she said. "I mean, yes, of course. I'd like that very much."
Kingsley relaxed and smiled.
That Saturday, Kingsley cooked a lovely meal for her at his house, which turned out to be a surprisingly modest little place on the outskirts of London. And before Andromeda left at the end of the evening, he kissed her, and he was such a gentleman about it that it very nearly didn't feel strange at all.
A few weeks after, she invited him to her house in turn – and let him stay the night.
No, Andromeda Tonks had not expected to embark on a romance at the age of 58. But then, neither had she expected Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Gradually, she learned to take initiative, inviting him out as well, or calling him by Floo when she felt like talking. And he was wonderful to talk to, funny and sympathetic and very intelligent. It surprised her how quickly she grew accustomed to sharing nearly everything with Kingsley.
"You know, you never talk about Tonks – Nymphadora, I mean. Or about Ted," Kingsley said one night.
They were together in her bed; it was one of the rare times when Emmeline was at a friend's house for the night, and Teddy and Alastor were not yet home for the summer. Andromeda had her hand resting on Kingsley's strong chest, just lying there quietly and marvelling at the simple fact that he was there.
But now Kingsley glanced over, in the half-light. "I don't mean that you have to," he said. "Only that I want you to know I don't mind if you do. I know the people we love don't cease to be part of us just because they've passed away."
Andromeda gazed back at him, wishing there were a way to express with a look how touched she was by the sentiment. She didn't know quite what to say.
"And in return," he said, "I'm glad to tell you anything you'd like to know about Cynthia, although I can't promise it's all that exciting a story."
Andromeda propped herself up on one elbow. "Actually…yes," she said. "I think I'd like to know that story."
"Hmm," he replied, shifting so he was facing her, mirroring her position. "It goes like this: Two people meet during a time of war. Both have made their peace with being too late to start a family, both are surprised to realise this might be a last chance after all. It becomes clear fairly quickly that the relationship was a mistake, though the children certainly were not, and the split is amicable."
There he stopped.
"That's all?" Andromeda asked.
"That's all," Kingsley said. "Not that I regret my marriage to Cynthia in the least. Where would I be without Stor and Em?"
"Didn't she want to take the children with her when she moved back to the U.S.?" Andromeda asked. It was something she'd often wondered.
Kingsley's brow wrinkled. "Somehow…it was just clear to both of us how it should go. Even at that age, the kids had a life here, and friends. And Cynthia has no extended family to help her look after children, she really just has her work. The kids are happy when they get to visit their mother every year, but they come back telling me how weird it all is over there. I don't think it's very easy to be magical in America." He gazed consideringly at the ceiling, then back at Andromeda. "I can say this for Cynthia: She's strong and brilliant and I won't be surprised in the least when I hear she's become the American Secretary of Magic within a few years at the latest."
Then his voice dropped to a deeper pitch, those richly rolling tones that always gave Andromeda a pleasant shiver. "That's my weakness," he murmured. "Strong and brilliant women."
Andromeda could only shake her head. "I'm sure you overestimate me."
That infectious laugh. "I'm certain I don't."
She took a steadying breath, then said, "I'd like if you would tell me about what you remember of Nymphadora. From when you worked with her."
Kingsley studied her for a moment, then slid his arm beneath her, so her head was resting against his shoulder. "Hmm," he said again, and she could feel the rumble of it through his chest. When he spoke again, she could hear in his voice that he was smiling.
"That hair, first of all," he said at the ceiling. "And the absolute, glorious I-don't-care-about-propriety attitude in everything she did. I don't know how well you knew Alastor Moody, but Tonks was the first person I saw coax a smile out of him in about a decade. Not that he was an unhappy person, you have to understand, just that he didn't see the point of wasting time in having fun. But Tonks was a person who didn't let you have a choice about that."
Andromeda nodded against his shoulder, not trusting herself to speak.
"And her dedication," Kingsley said softly. "She was too young for that job, but twice as good as a lot of senior Aurors. We could have done with her skills during the clean-up phase after the war, that's for sure."
To her horror, Andromeda felt a single tear fighting its way free. Nearly fourteen years, and sometimes it still felt as if she'd lost Nymphadora yesterday. She breathed hard against the tears, willing them away.
Kingsley must have felt her stiffen, because turned to look at her.
"Oh, Andromeda," he said.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "My fault. I shouldn't have asked."
He shook his head, and reached up his other hand to rest against her cheek. "I can't imagine," he told her. "I've been trying, since I've known you, but I can't imagine how it was for you. I can't – If –" He shook his head once again, more forcefully. "I don't know how I would survive."
"I was lucky to have Teddy," Andromeda said firmly. "Teddy meant there was no question of not going on."
Kingsley's fingers stroked against her cheek. "Strong and brilliant," he whispered, and Andromeda gave a little choking kind of laugh.
In the strange delayed way of dreams, it wasn't until several days later that Andromeda started awake from a dream about Ted.
She hadn't dreamt about Ted in years, not in any clear way, but this time it was vivid, and she woke with Ted's laugh still ringing in her ears, that great big laugh that always seemed to fill a room. In the dream, he'd been teasing her about something. Ted was the only person she'd ever really allowed to poke fun at her. When they were children, even Bella had learned not to pick on her sister too often, lest she find herself at the receiving end of some very creative hexes. Andromeda didn't stand for anyone picking on her, not ever.
But Ted had always had a way of disarming her.
Andromeda stared into the darkness – it was not yet even dawn – and asked out loud, "Am I letting you down?"
Of course there was no answer.
– – – – –
(continue to CHAPTER 3)
Summary: At 17, Andromeda Black thought being in love was everything. At 57, Andromeda Tonks knew better. Yet the first time Kingsley Shacklebolt asked her out, she surprised herself by saying yes.
Characters: Andromeda Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Teddy Lupin and ensemble (Harry! Ginny! Molly! Kingsley's kids! All the Potters and Weasleys!)
Warnings: None
Chapters: 15
Story:
CHAPTER TWO
They were both at Platform 9 ¾ on September the first that year.
Andromeda looked up from adjusting a strap on Teddy's trunk to see Kingsley coming toward her, shepherding two children. It was the first time she'd set eyes on Alastor and Emmeline in person, although Kingsley was always happy to show off their photographs.
Alastor looked wide-eyed and anxious, though Andromeda assumed that could be put down to start-of-term nerves. Emmeline was giggling over something.
"Morning, Andromeda," Kingsley said jovially, every inch the professional acquaintances they were when in public together. She appreciated that about him.
"Good morning, Kingsley," she said, and for all her intentions to maintain a decorous public relationship, she couldn't help smiling at him a little more softly than she'd quite meant to. "This must be Alastor? And Emmeline?"
"Kids, this is my colleague Andromeda Tonks," Kingsley told them.
"How do you do, Mrs Tonks," Alastor said, reaching out to shake her hand in a very grown-up fashion, and Emmeline repeated dreamily after him.
"And Teddy, you know who Mr Shacklebolt is," Andromeda said. "This is my grandson, Teddy," she told Kingsley's son and daughter. "He's starting his third year."
Looking at Teddy next to anxious little Alastor, she was struck again by just how grown-up and confident he was.
"That's right!" Teddy said cheerfully. "I'm in Ravenclaw." He considered Alastor. "You're starting this year?"
"Uh-huh," Alastor said.
"Well, you can sit with me on the train, if you want," Teddy offered. "I'm gonna meet a bunch of my mates and we've got an Exploding Snap tournament we've been waiting to start up again since June, you can play too, if you want. Hey, maybe you'll be in Ravenclaw!" Alastor's eyes went wider. Teddy turned to Kingsley and declared, "Don't worry, Mr Shacklebolt. I'll look after him."
Kingsley grinned, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Comes by the take-charge attitude honestly, then."
Andromeda shook her head and smiled and told Teddy, "Go on, then, I know you want to find your friends and get a good seat on the train. I'll help you with your trunk."
"I'll do it," Kingsley said, and before Andromeda could protest, he was lifting Teddy's trunk into the nearest wagon, Alastor's joining it shortly afterward.
Andromeda kissed Teddy on both his cheeks, then on the top of his head for good measure – goodness, he'd grown yet again – and made him promise to write. Kingsley enfolded his son in his arms, then the whistle sounded and everywhere around them children were scrambling onto the train. The doors clanged shut and the train began to move.
Emmeline ran after the train as it belched steam and began to pick up speed, waving to her brother until the train was moving too fast and she had to fall behind. She turned at the end of the platform and looked back at her father, her mouth falling into an O of surprise as if she'd only just that moment realised her brother really had left.
She started back down the platform slowly, chin quivering just a little, and Kingsley hurried to meet her. "I think this is a day that calls for ice-cream sundaes, Em, don't you?" he asked. Emmeline nodded, just barely, and Kingsley turned to Andromeda. "Mrs Tonks? Care to join us?"
Andromeda started to decline, then remembered that the only other thing she had to do that day was sit at home and miss Teddy, so she said, "Yes, thank you, I'd love to." To her surprise, Emmeline slipped her other hand into Andromeda's as the three of them walked together out of the station and into the bright sun.
"Diagon Alley?" Kingsley asked. "New Fortescue's? I'm thinking maybe the super triple raspberry with chocolate sauce and singing sprinkles?"
Emmeline gave a watery nod.
Kingsley nodded back at his daughter sagely. "All right, that's settled for me then, but Em, what will you have?"
Emmeline giggled, and Andromeda actually laughed.
– – – – –
There was a dinner that autumn, attended by much of the old Order of the Phoenix as well as several more progressive members of the Wizengamot, to honour the passage of a last major post-war revision, long-awaited, to wizarding law.
Thirteen years on, young Hermione Granger had marched her way through house-elf legislation, non-discrimination toward werewolves, rights for all Beings and Beasts, and legal codification of Muggle protection, to arrive at the last bastion of her assault: inheritance law.
Female as well as male children could now inherit, property passing automatically to the eldest unless the parents' will stipulated otherwise. When Andromeda saw Harry at the dinner that evening, he tried to use the new law as grounds to argue yet again that 12 Grimmauld Place should rightfully belong to Andromeda rather than him, but that was silly, and Andromeda told him so.
"Really, Harry, what would I even do with that old place?" she asked, when he opened his mouth again to protest. "Keep it, with my blessing."
He looked ready to start arguing again, so she directed him gently toward his seat at the long table they'd reserved at a restaurant just off Diagon Alley, and went to find her own place. As she made her way around the table, Andromeda passed Kingsley's Emmeline, sweetly reading a picture book to little Lily in one corner. Near them, Harry's older two, James and Al, appeared to be having some sort of strange wrestling match that involved their toy wands but no hands.
Rose and Hugo, the two small children Hermione had managed to raise while working her way up through the Ministry and conducting her own private studies of wizarding law on the side, were playing happily under the table.
As she passed, Andromeda overheard Hermione saying to Ginny, "Honestly, I can't believe it's taken this long." Hermione radiated energy. "Thirteen years! When it's all so simple, really, once you just track down and compile the right precedents…"
Personally, Andromeda couldn't believe how much Hermione had accomplished in such a short space of time, whatever the younger woman might think. There was certainly a way in which Hermione reminded Andromeda of herself at a much younger age, when she'd still believed she had the power to make change.
But where Andromeda had grown fed up with the glacial pace of change in the wizarding world and let her anger drive her out of the Ministry, Hermione hadn't given up – and she'd achieved the seemingly impossible. Andromeda hoped Hermione held onto that determination for a long time yet.
Reaching her place at the table, Andromeda found that Kingsley had somehow contrived to be seated next to her. And as Hermione stood to say a few words of thanks to the assembled witches and wizards, Kingsley's hand found Andromeda's under the table. She flushed first with surprise, then pleasure, then turned surreptitiously to see his eyes sparkling at her with amusement.
"You know you're half the reason this law passed," Kingsley said, as Hermione sat down and the first course was served.
"I'm sorry?" Andromeda replied, bewildered.
"Well, you don't have to apologise for it, though some eldest male children in pure-blood families might wish you would," he grinned, and released her hand so they could both pick up their forks. "Hermione's been telling me how much of the legal legwork you did on this. Said she never would have had a case if you hadn't shown her where to look for the precedents. I don't pretend to have followed everything she explained to me, but it sounded quite impressive, how she said it. She looks up to you, you know."
"I – Hermione – me?" Andromeda fumbled, at a rare loss for words.
Kingsley smiled again. "Indeed. You, Hermione, you. You're an impressive woman, Andromeda."
Before Andromeda could think what to answer him, they were distracted by a series of small bangs. Little Rose Weasley, at that age where she was just starting to come into her magic, had accidentally set her entire place setting alight, and her father Ron was dousing Rose and everything around her with water from his wand.
"Easy there, she's a five-year-old, not a dragon," Harry teased Ron, who was now trying to siphon away the puddle he'd created on the table, while Hermione rolled her eyes.
Andromeda smiled, watching Molly scoop up her soaking wet granddaughter, both of them laughing now Rose was over the initial shock.
Over dessert and under the cover of the general chatter, Kingsley murmured in Andromeda's ear, "Em has a sleepover at a friend's place this weekend and I'll be rattling round the house alone. Could I convince you to come over and let me cook for you?"
Andromeda looked at Kingsley in surprise, and his eyes on her were uncharacteristically earnest.
"Yes, all right," she said. "I mean, yes, of course. I'd like that very much."
Kingsley relaxed and smiled.
That Saturday, Kingsley cooked a lovely meal for her at his house, which turned out to be a surprisingly modest little place on the outskirts of London. And before Andromeda left at the end of the evening, he kissed her, and he was such a gentleman about it that it very nearly didn't feel strange at all.
A few weeks after, she invited him to her house in turn – and let him stay the night.
No, Andromeda Tonks had not expected to embark on a romance at the age of 58. But then, neither had she expected Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Gradually, she learned to take initiative, inviting him out as well, or calling him by Floo when she felt like talking. And he was wonderful to talk to, funny and sympathetic and very intelligent. It surprised her how quickly she grew accustomed to sharing nearly everything with Kingsley.
"You know, you never talk about Tonks – Nymphadora, I mean. Or about Ted," Kingsley said one night.
They were together in her bed; it was one of the rare times when Emmeline was at a friend's house for the night, and Teddy and Alastor were not yet home for the summer. Andromeda had her hand resting on Kingsley's strong chest, just lying there quietly and marvelling at the simple fact that he was there.
But now Kingsley glanced over, in the half-light. "I don't mean that you have to," he said. "Only that I want you to know I don't mind if you do. I know the people we love don't cease to be part of us just because they've passed away."
Andromeda gazed back at him, wishing there were a way to express with a look how touched she was by the sentiment. She didn't know quite what to say.
"And in return," he said, "I'm glad to tell you anything you'd like to know about Cynthia, although I can't promise it's all that exciting a story."
Andromeda propped herself up on one elbow. "Actually…yes," she said. "I think I'd like to know that story."
"Hmm," he replied, shifting so he was facing her, mirroring her position. "It goes like this: Two people meet during a time of war. Both have made their peace with being too late to start a family, both are surprised to realise this might be a last chance after all. It becomes clear fairly quickly that the relationship was a mistake, though the children certainly were not, and the split is amicable."
There he stopped.
"That's all?" Andromeda asked.
"That's all," Kingsley said. "Not that I regret my marriage to Cynthia in the least. Where would I be without Stor and Em?"
"Didn't she want to take the children with her when she moved back to the U.S.?" Andromeda asked. It was something she'd often wondered.
Kingsley's brow wrinkled. "Somehow…it was just clear to both of us how it should go. Even at that age, the kids had a life here, and friends. And Cynthia has no extended family to help her look after children, she really just has her work. The kids are happy when they get to visit their mother every year, but they come back telling me how weird it all is over there. I don't think it's very easy to be magical in America." He gazed consideringly at the ceiling, then back at Andromeda. "I can say this for Cynthia: She's strong and brilliant and I won't be surprised in the least when I hear she's become the American Secretary of Magic within a few years at the latest."
Then his voice dropped to a deeper pitch, those richly rolling tones that always gave Andromeda a pleasant shiver. "That's my weakness," he murmured. "Strong and brilliant women."
Andromeda could only shake her head. "I'm sure you overestimate me."
That infectious laugh. "I'm certain I don't."
She took a steadying breath, then said, "I'd like if you would tell me about what you remember of Nymphadora. From when you worked with her."
Kingsley studied her for a moment, then slid his arm beneath her, so her head was resting against his shoulder. "Hmm," he said again, and she could feel the rumble of it through his chest. When he spoke again, she could hear in his voice that he was smiling.
"That hair, first of all," he said at the ceiling. "And the absolute, glorious I-don't-care-about-propriety attitude in everything she did. I don't know how well you knew Alastor Moody, but Tonks was the first person I saw coax a smile out of him in about a decade. Not that he was an unhappy person, you have to understand, just that he didn't see the point of wasting time in having fun. But Tonks was a person who didn't let you have a choice about that."
Andromeda nodded against his shoulder, not trusting herself to speak.
"And her dedication," Kingsley said softly. "She was too young for that job, but twice as good as a lot of senior Aurors. We could have done with her skills during the clean-up phase after the war, that's for sure."
To her horror, Andromeda felt a single tear fighting its way free. Nearly fourteen years, and sometimes it still felt as if she'd lost Nymphadora yesterday. She breathed hard against the tears, willing them away.
Kingsley must have felt her stiffen, because turned to look at her.
"Oh, Andromeda," he said.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "My fault. I shouldn't have asked."
He shook his head, and reached up his other hand to rest against her cheek. "I can't imagine," he told her. "I've been trying, since I've known you, but I can't imagine how it was for you. I can't – If –" He shook his head once again, more forcefully. "I don't know how I would survive."
"I was lucky to have Teddy," Andromeda said firmly. "Teddy meant there was no question of not going on."
Kingsley's fingers stroked against her cheek. "Strong and brilliant," he whispered, and Andromeda gave a little choking kind of laugh.
In the strange delayed way of dreams, it wasn't until several days later that Andromeda started awake from a dream about Ted.
She hadn't dreamt about Ted in years, not in any clear way, but this time it was vivid, and she woke with Ted's laugh still ringing in her ears, that great big laugh that always seemed to fill a room. In the dream, he'd been teasing her about something. Ted was the only person she'd ever really allowed to poke fun at her. When they were children, even Bella had learned not to pick on her sister too often, lest she find herself at the receiving end of some very creative hexes. Andromeda didn't stand for anyone picking on her, not ever.
But Ted had always had a way of disarming her.
Andromeda stared into the darkness – it was not yet even dawn – and asked out loud, "Am I letting you down?"
Of course there was no answer.
– – – – –
(continue to CHAPTER 3)