Andromeda was sitting alone on her empty bed.
Ted was dead. Dead and gone. Never to return.
When Nymphadora had first gone to Hogwarts, Andromeda had
cried, when her daughter had moved out a few years back, she had
cried anew.
But for husband's death, there were no tears.
They had found his body in the woods. And she was too angry to
attend a funeral. Though as a muggleborn he would not be getting
one in the wizarding world. His body had been buried in a ditch by
the people who had sent her the note.
She could neither recall nor bring herself to care who 'they' had
been.
She was so angry. Rage burned in her throat and she swallowed
past it.
Ted had left with a note and now he had died with one.
Andromeda knew she should have gone after him. But she had
remained at home for Nymphadora. Andromeda's blasted son-in-law
was not someone she would ever rely on or trust.
Remus Lupin was not a bad person, but Andromeda believed him to
be a weak one.
But the end result was this; Ted had gone on the run for his life,
leaving both his wife and daughter behind. Giving neither the offer to
join him nor a proper farewell, and now, he was dead.
If Andromeda had been with him, he wouldn't be. She knew more of
the Dark Arts than half of Dark Lord's inner circle put together.
Anyone short of Bella or Red Eyes himself wouldn't have gotten
through Andromeda Tonks alive. Had Ted but trusted her…
But he had believed the facade she had made of her life.
Andromeda Tonks, the good little housewife. A muggle dance
teacher. A devoted mother. A Hogwarts' dropout with no magical
potential.
Over time, memories had been dulled and she heard through the
grapevine that many thought her a squib.
Ted had known better, but a part of him must have thought her
tamed.
A tame trophy wife.
Andromeda laid back on the bed, her brown hair spilling over the
coverlet. She watched the ceiling fan slowly rotate above her in a
lazy pace. The sunlight causing the shadows to move along with that
endless, sluggish rotation.
She was anything but tame. She stayed out of this war because a
part of her believed the wizarding world deserved to burn.
Muggleborns and muggles might be the targets but when all was
said and done, it would be the Pureblood families who would hit the
hardest.
Andromeda swallowed back bile, realizing that it was that way of
thinking that had lost her husband.
She felt the rings on her finger burn, it weighed heavy on her soul.
Her charred and blackened soul that a young Hufflepuff had once
saw fit to love.
How was she going to tell her in-laws that Ted was dead? How could
she explain his murder and that his body could not be safely
retrieved?
How was she supposed to tell her daughter that her father was dead,
mere weeks before she would have her firstborn?
The rage swept through her entire being again. Andromeda's hands
fisted the coverlet. She forced the feeling deep, stuffing it far down in
a dark hole where she had long ago shoved her magic. Both her
anger and the magic, flickered, danced, whispered sweet seductions
of power and relief.
It would be so easy to give in. To become her power and level the
playing feel.
Andromeda's uncle, Orion Black had once said that the three Black
sisters had been gifted with three attributes in relation to their power
levels. The Eldest, Bellatrix had been gifted with ruthlessness, the
Youngest, had been gifted with control, and Andromeda, the middle
child had been gifted with restraint.
Having no checks on her power, Bella had gone mad. Having control
of her powers Narcissa had the finest, most intricate spell work
ability and as for AndromedaAndromeda had been forced to give up on advancement just to keep
herself from following in Bella's footsteps.
So on the eve of her husband's death, Andromeda did what she
always did. She practiced her restraint and buried her power, her
anger, and her opinions as she always did.
It felt as if she were breathing in shards of glass, as if a million
lacerations were filling her lungs, her heart; her blood.
She breathed in deeper, closing her eyes to better savor the pain.
Life would go on, she still had her daughter, and her grandchild was
on the way.
What she had with Ted had been a dream. A dream that had lasted
far longer than she had anticipated.
Andromeda did not cry. Not for the Merlin damned bastard who had
left her alone. For the man, she had given up everything for.
Andromeda woke with a choked scream.
She rolled onto her side and curled in on herself. She felt as if her
insides were trying to claw themselves apart.
Strong arms wound around her, pulling her into the warm press of
his body. His bare legs pressed into hers. Harry partially rolled on top
of her, pinning her to the mattress, one of his hands pressed to her
thrumming heart.
The pain was such that she thought that there she be heart's blood
spilling around his fingers. But despite the pain, her body held
together.
Dimly, she thought for most people being pinned down in
circumstance would be frightening, might increase the problem.
But Andromeda knew Harry. Knew the feel of this man's body on and
inside of hers. She knew the smell of him and the gentle, wordless
strength of him as he helped hold her together. Gave her something
other than the pain and depthless loneliness to focus on.
She wasn't sure how long he had been talking but she heard his
words spoken just below her ear.
"It's okay to cry, Andromeda. You can let yourself feel this. I'm here,
I'm here."
She didn't cry.
She screamed.
Harry wrapped himself more solidly against her.
She let go of her self-restraint and she twisted in his arms, not to get
away, but to hurt him.
Hurt him, so he might feel the agony she felt, so that she might
relieve the acrid burn of spoiled rage, shelved and aged to a deadly
potency.
Harry didn't try to get away, but he wrestled with her until he caught
her wrists.
He grunted and nearly lost his hold when her knee caught him
between the legs. But he gritted his teeth and bore down harder.
Using his body weight to hold her in place.
She continued to struggle, Harry's breath growing heavy, his body
trembling with both the effort to hold her and the residual pain she
had dealt him. When it finally became apparent that she wasn't
getting away, she screamed.
She screamed at him, cursed him.
Harry said nothing. He bore her words, holding her from falling apart,
from hurting him, and from hurting herself. Eventually, he tucked his
head under her chin, both so he could rest his head while listening to
her racing heart, and to keep her from getting any ideas about biting.
Her cursing turned into more wordless exclamations of rage and
despair.
When next she lashed out it wasn't with words or limbs.
Harry gasped as raw, spell-less magic slammed into him. His body
went rigid when he felt an answering power in himself rise to meet
hers.
No physical injury -internal or external, resulted. But wave after wave
rage, directionless power slamming into him. It felt as if they were
two people caught between a rocky cliff face and the ocean. He was
the cliff and she was the ocean.
Harry could not decide which felt worse, the crush of rocks or the
slap of the waves. And as the sensation continued he was horrified
to realize that it felt good.
Harry had died at least once before, and hadn't remembered until
this moment that the split second of death crashing into his body had
felt additive. That perhaps the last breath he had taken before the
end had been the sweetest, the most awake moment of his life.
The magic between them cooled, eased.
Harry let go of Andromeda's wrists and pulled her into a hug. She
rolled onto him, and he winced when she jostled his bruised bits.
He didn't push her away and the cooling magic felt like summer rain
between them. A sensation that like the sound of rain in the trees or
on the surface of a lake filled up the space in a suspended existence
of time that seemed to have no discernable start or end. As if the
reality the rain created had always been and would always be.
He felt her tears before he heard them.
Harry rubbed her back and had no clear thoughts just the experience
of his love in his arms, the pain in his body, the sorrow in their
hearts, and the magic that pressed against them. Summer rain on a
lonely night.
"Don't," Harry said sternly as Andromeda yet again opened her
mouth.
They were cleaning up after breakfast. Teddy was already in the
living room building castles out of blocks and subsequently knocking
them down.
"You don't know what I was going to say," she said, her voice not as
steady as she would have liked.
Harry turned to face her, four brought pink lines trailed the side of her
face where she had gotten a good swipe at him. She couldn't help
but flinch when she met his emerald eyes.
"Harry, I'm-"
"Don't," Harry ground out, cutting her off yet again. "Don't you dare
apologize for this."
"Harry," she sighed.
"We are not having this conversation," he snapped.
"You don't get to decide that."
"What is there to say? I don't want your apology. I know how much
guilt you feel about being with me as it. We are not adding fuel to
that doubt. I am happy, Andromeda. Happier than I have ever been
or ever imagined I would be. We aren't going to fuss over a
nightmare."
"Fuss?" Andromeda asked. "I kneed you. I nearly ripped your face
off."
"Well, I would rather you avoid kneeing me in the future, but I would
hardly call a mere scratch trying to rip my face off."
"How can you forgive me for this?"
"I don't forgive," Harry said coming around the table to take her
hand.
She jerked in his grip but didn't fight him. She didn't know what to
say, she looked at their joined hands and felt inconsolable loss at the
idea that this might be the last time he held her hand in his.
"Look at me, Andromeda," he ordered.
Her gaze jerked up, and she glared at him, at his daring to order her
to do anything.
He smiled, knowing exactly what that expression meant. "I don't
forgive you, because there is absolutely nothing to forgive."
The brief rise of indignation faded as she looked into his kind face. "I
hurt you." In her view, there was no greater crime.
He brought both her hands up to his face. "You bruised me, but you
have not harmed me, not in a way that will last, not in a way that
matters."
She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off with a kiss.
When he pulled back he said something she had not expected, "My
aunt almost smashed my head in with a cast-iron skillet once. My
uncle used to throw me into walls and my cousin used to strike out at
me every chance he got. I know what it means to be abused, and
last night… that isn't what you did."
She wanted to console him, curse his relatives, and despair at
anyone who would hurt this man when he was a child. But that
wasn't why he shared that bit of his past with her. "Then what did I
do to you last night?"
Harry stepped in closer to her. "You, my beautiful, wonderful
Andromeda, trusted me. Trusted me with all your hurts and
confusion. Trusted me enough to catch you when you fell. I love all
of you, Andromeda, not just the functioning pieces you show to the
world."
Her heart clenched as if a fist had squeezed it for a half beat and in
the place of pain, a feeling of undeniable love filled her. Her voice
strained, dropping even lower normal, she said, "But I could have
seriously hurt you."
Harry smirked at her, "I'm not saying I relish the pain, Dromeda, and
I really hope you don't make a habit out of it, but what I am saying is
that I do want to be there with you for the good, the bad, and the
horrid."
She snorted. The tension breaking between them causing her to
laugh. She wasn't sure what drove her to say the next but she
began, "In sickness and in health." It was a statement, it was a
question, it was an offer of everything words failed to explain.
Harry's fingers wound around the nape of her neck and he answered
with every silly romantic deepest desire and in the seriousness of the
gravest vow, "From here forth, to each and every day and night that
follows."
They kissed; her doubts, his fears, blown away on the mutual
decision made by two of the most powerful and stubborn people in
the Wizarding World.