Family Ties, Andromeda, PG-13
Title: Family Ties
Author: nopejr
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Contains: canon character deaths, torture
Prompt: 123) As long as I live, I will have control over my being. -- Artemisia Gentileschi (1593-1651/1653), 17th-century Italian Baroque painter.
Summary: Andromeda, after, before, during.
Author's Notes:
*
i.
Long before the owls, long before Harry bloody Potter arrives, white and shaking on her doorstep, Andromeda knows that they are dead. It's not a question of magic. She's no Seer. There have been no more omens than the simple fact of war, writ large across their nation. Still, long before she sits there, cradling Teddy in her arms and watching a boy saviour's face break, listening to his words stumble, falter and fall silent, squashed beneath the flatness of her gaze, she is certain. Her husband; her daughter; all is taken. The war has waned, and she has lost.
ii.
When she says she's leaving, Cissy slaps her and bursts into tears. (Later, she'll deny both.) Bella sneers; then she goes for her wand, but Andromeda has learned to expect that since it was first placed in Bella's hand. Bella never learns.
When she faces her father, she does so with back straight and head held high, without tremble or hesitation, with pure and perfect resolve. She is a Black, and she will act as a Black acts, secure in her own righteousness.
When she leaves, her mother says nothing. Andromeda closes the door on the smell of burning tapestry.
iii.
"Come to Hogsmeade," the boy says.
"I thought you wanted that seat for work," Andromeda says, eyes on her own parchment. The library is packed.
"You're very pretty," he says, "and incredibly smart and rumours say Septimus Brown still can't sit down."
"Really," she says flatly.
"Rumours say. Good job. So, Saturday, Hogsmeade? I'm Ted, by the way."
"I'm busy."
"You're very conscientious." She lifts her head to glare and he just smiles back. It's a nice smile.
"I'll be in Hogsmeade," she says. "Whether you are there or not is of no importance to me."
"Okay," he says, grinning.
iv.
"You think you're being strong right now?" Ted yells. He never yells, but he's yelling now, face thick and red, hair sweat slick, flat here and jutting up in blond tufts there. "This isn't strong; it's just stubborn!"
"Mrs Tonks," the midwife says in sharp, frustrated tones, "The risks involved in a metamorphagus birth--"
"I am aware, I am very aware of the risks," Andromeda says. She keeps her voice low. Controlled. "This is my body, my risk, my decision--"
"It's our daughter," Ted yells.
"I know!" she screams back.
He jerks towards her with an inarticulate angry sound. She holds her ground, back straight in the damn bed, though she just wants it to stop, wants to sleep -- but she will not. She will not. She holds his gaze.
"If," he forces out between grit teeth, "something goes wrong--"
"Then she will be here. Not in some, some hospital." She spits the word. "Here, with us, in our home."
Ted goes limp. "Oh, sweetheart." He takes her hand. "It'll be okay. It will. She'll be beautiful, just like her mother. Our little Dora."
"Nymphadora," Andromeda corrects automatically, and he smiles at her through his tears. "Her name is Nymphadora."
v.
Druella does not care for tears. She doesn't like the wailing and always uses silencing charms before each cold Crucio. The jerking and shaking is equally distasteful but she can bear in the dry, flat silence.
Cygnus insists she holds the children for a few moments each day regardless of her feelings. He believes it will encourage their magic. There are no squibs in the House of Black, nor will there ever be. Druella schedules them accordingly; it would be uncouth to watch the clock, but she keeps time in her head with pendulum accuracy.
When they cry, Druella pushes the feeding bottles deep to silence the noise. Bellatrix fights; Narcissa sniffles; Andromeda alone is quiet, but her eyes fix on her mother's, neither Druella's near-black nor Cygnus's blue, but a light, almost hazel brown. Neither one thing or the other.
Druella will teach them order, that there is a place for everything, that everything must be in its place. They will each learn the lesson differently, take from Druella's words and her silences different meanings, diverging, as they diverge, but they will keep it to heart. The value of family. The value of control.
Andromeda doesn't care about tears.
vi.
"Andromeda." Narcissa holds herself straight, her face too clean for the creases her smoothing hands couldn't keep from her robes.
They are clearing rubble nearby, shouting instructions to each other over the hiss of charms. It's cool in the Great Hall. Shrouds have been draped over the bodies. Too many remained to be collected. There aren't enough owls. Somewhere, some people still live in hope.
"I expected you to have left," Andromeda says.
"There are some... concerns," Narcissa says. "Draco will remain here for the moment." She clasps her hands together in front of her. "I'm staying with my son."
"Of course," Andromeda says calmly. "If you'll excuse me. I'd like a moment alone with my daughter."
Narcissa flinches. "I'm sorry--"
The slap is loud. Narcissa staggers, one hand catching a table for balance, the other going to her cheek, pale skin and red, white-gold hair tumbling across her face. The noise outside doesn't stop, or slow, or change. It just goes on. Everything goes on.
"Well," says Narcissa, carefully straightening herself up. "I suppose I deserved that."
"Yes," Andromeda agrees. Her hand stings. "I suppose you do."
"Everything I have done, I did for family; everything--"
Narcissa stops herself speaking with visible effort. A crash sounds outside, a loud rumble of laughter. Andromeda finds her fists clenched and forces them open. Narcissa's lips form a wry almost-smile.
"Bella's dead. She served until the last, for all it did her. I let the Ministry deal with the body as it will."
Andromeda nods acknowledgement.
"Well." Narcissa shifts awkwardly before inclining her head, the smallest of bows. "It was--" She smiles bitterly, waving this off, and sweeps away, skirts swirling in the dust.
"How did she die?" Andromeda calls.
Narcissa stops in the doorway without looking back. After a long moment, she says, "Molly Weasley took her down, defending her daughter."
Andromeda doesn't let herself react, just says, "Thank you."
Another interminable pause, and then Narcissa nods again, and turns into the corridor outside. Her footsteps fade away until they are lost in the background.
Andromeda reaches for the shroud, lets her hand drop. A flick of her wand brings her a chair; she sits heavily, staring at the still sheet. She almost reaches out again but the fingers under it would be cold and stiff, would not feel her own grasping them. She can't reach that far.
No one can.
vii.
Andromeda screams again, tears splashing her clawing hands. She crawls into herself, trying to escape the searing, the lightning. There is no refuge, only pain. She can't hear Bellatrix shouting any more, can't hear the questions she won't answer, the questions she can't. What did she know of the Order, save that it was necessary, save that it scared her? And now the Ministry is fallen, fallen; now there is war--
"Tell me," Bellatrix screams. "Tell me the truth!"
Andromeda chokes out a laugh. "That's all I've ever told you, Bella. That's all--"
They scream together, down into the dark.
viii.
"Shh, baby, shh," Nymphadora whispers, rocking the crying baby. "Hush little baby, don't you cry, momma's gonna forget all the words -- come on, Teddy. Be a good boy for mummy."
"Let me take him," Andromeda says, knotting the tie of her gown and holding her arms out.
"Did we wake you?" Nymphadora asks, apologetically.
"I wasn't sleeping," Andromeda says. "Please."
They manoeuvre the baby from one set of arms to the other.
"He misses his dad." Nymphadora sighs, stroking his head. "We all do. Remus will be back soon love."
"Sit," Andromeda orders, and Nymphadora does, elbows on the table, rubbing at her face.
Andromeda cradles Teddy carefully in the crook of one arm, humming a little as she walks around the kitchen, wand flicking, pulling out a mug, heating milk, melting chocolate.
"He'll come back," Nymphadora says at last, looking up defiantly at Andromeda from under a hanging fringe of pink. "I know he will. And we'll fight together, side by side; we'll make the world better for Teddy."
"For Teddy," Andromeda agrees, placing the steaming mug in front of Nymphadora. She curls her fingers white-knuckle tight around it.
Teddy hiccoughs, grousing a little, turning his head into Andromeda.
ix.
"...then I declare you bonded for life."
A shower of sparks falls down over their entwined fingers. Applause rings out. Andromeda laughs, leaning in to Ted's kiss. Bells ring out, and bird song; there's laughter and music as wedding became reception, chairs moved aside, tables covered in food and dance-floor filled. Ted pulls her out too and she goes, laughing still, his hands in hers, leading them into a simple waltz.
"You'll never get rid of me now," Ted says smugly, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
"We'll see," Andromeda says, grinning back.
Ted just laughs, dipping her into the spin.
x.
Harry Potter sits on her couch. He is pale and trembling. She listens to him try to speak praise of people he barely knew. When she can stand it no more, she leaves the room without speaking and stands in the hall, one hand on the wall to hold herself up, the other clenched in a fist against her heart, to hold it in.
When Andromeda returns, it's to find Harry leaving. He stops when he sees her and she understands suddenly that he didn't expect her to come back. She tries to remember what a smile looks like. It doesn't take. Instead she holds out her arms, holds out the precious, gurgling bundle in them.
"This is Teddy," she says. "This is your godson."
She has to show him how to hold the baby properly, how to support his head, how to keep him safe and secure. They sit together on the couch. She straightens her skirts. His clothes are too large for him. He bends over the baby, cooing, and smiling through the tears that wash down his cheeks and darken the blue of the blanket.
"Hello, Teddy," he whispers. "Hello, baby."
For the moment, it is enough.
Author: nopejr
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Contains: canon character deaths, torture
Prompt: 123) As long as I live, I will have control over my being. -- Artemisia Gentileschi (1593-1651/1653), 17th-century Italian Baroque painter.
Summary: Andromeda, after, before, during.
Author's Notes:
*
i.
Long before the owls, long before Harry bloody Potter arrives, white and shaking on her doorstep, Andromeda knows that they are dead. It's not a question of magic. She's no Seer. There have been no more omens than the simple fact of war, writ large across their nation. Still, long before she sits there, cradling Teddy in her arms and watching a boy saviour's face break, listening to his words stumble, falter and fall silent, squashed beneath the flatness of her gaze, she is certain. Her husband; her daughter; all is taken. The war has waned, and she has lost.
ii.
When she says she's leaving, Cissy slaps her and bursts into tears. (Later, she'll deny both.) Bella sneers; then she goes for her wand, but Andromeda has learned to expect that since it was first placed in Bella's hand. Bella never learns.
When she faces her father, she does so with back straight and head held high, without tremble or hesitation, with pure and perfect resolve. She is a Black, and she will act as a Black acts, secure in her own righteousness.
When she leaves, her mother says nothing. Andromeda closes the door on the smell of burning tapestry.
iii.
"Come to Hogsmeade," the boy says.
"I thought you wanted that seat for work," Andromeda says, eyes on her own parchment. The library is packed.
"You're very pretty," he says, "and incredibly smart and rumours say Septimus Brown still can't sit down."
"Really," she says flatly.
"Rumours say. Good job. So, Saturday, Hogsmeade? I'm Ted, by the way."
"I'm busy."
"You're very conscientious." She lifts her head to glare and he just smiles back. It's a nice smile.
"I'll be in Hogsmeade," she says. "Whether you are there or not is of no importance to me."
"Okay," he says, grinning.
iv.
"You think you're being strong right now?" Ted yells. He never yells, but he's yelling now, face thick and red, hair sweat slick, flat here and jutting up in blond tufts there. "This isn't strong; it's just stubborn!"
"Mrs Tonks," the midwife says in sharp, frustrated tones, "The risks involved in a metamorphagus birth--"
"I am aware, I am very aware of the risks," Andromeda says. She keeps her voice low. Controlled. "This is my body, my risk, my decision--"
"It's our daughter," Ted yells.
"I know!" she screams back.
He jerks towards her with an inarticulate angry sound. She holds her ground, back straight in the damn bed, though she just wants it to stop, wants to sleep -- but she will not. She will not. She holds his gaze.
"If," he forces out between grit teeth, "something goes wrong--"
"Then she will be here. Not in some, some hospital." She spits the word. "Here, with us, in our home."
Ted goes limp. "Oh, sweetheart." He takes her hand. "It'll be okay. It will. She'll be beautiful, just like her mother. Our little Dora."
"Nymphadora," Andromeda corrects automatically, and he smiles at her through his tears. "Her name is Nymphadora."
v.
Druella does not care for tears. She doesn't like the wailing and always uses silencing charms before each cold Crucio. The jerking and shaking is equally distasteful but she can bear in the dry, flat silence.
Cygnus insists she holds the children for a few moments each day regardless of her feelings. He believes it will encourage their magic. There are no squibs in the House of Black, nor will there ever be. Druella schedules them accordingly; it would be uncouth to watch the clock, but she keeps time in her head with pendulum accuracy.
When they cry, Druella pushes the feeding bottles deep to silence the noise. Bellatrix fights; Narcissa sniffles; Andromeda alone is quiet, but her eyes fix on her mother's, neither Druella's near-black nor Cygnus's blue, but a light, almost hazel brown. Neither one thing or the other.
Druella will teach them order, that there is a place for everything, that everything must be in its place. They will each learn the lesson differently, take from Druella's words and her silences different meanings, diverging, as they diverge, but they will keep it to heart. The value of family. The value of control.
Andromeda doesn't care about tears.
vi.
"Andromeda." Narcissa holds herself straight, her face too clean for the creases her smoothing hands couldn't keep from her robes.
They are clearing rubble nearby, shouting instructions to each other over the hiss of charms. It's cool in the Great Hall. Shrouds have been draped over the bodies. Too many remained to be collected. There aren't enough owls. Somewhere, some people still live in hope.
"I expected you to have left," Andromeda says.
"There are some... concerns," Narcissa says. "Draco will remain here for the moment." She clasps her hands together in front of her. "I'm staying with my son."
"Of course," Andromeda says calmly. "If you'll excuse me. I'd like a moment alone with my daughter."
Narcissa flinches. "I'm sorry--"
The slap is loud. Narcissa staggers, one hand catching a table for balance, the other going to her cheek, pale skin and red, white-gold hair tumbling across her face. The noise outside doesn't stop, or slow, or change. It just goes on. Everything goes on.
"Well," says Narcissa, carefully straightening herself up. "I suppose I deserved that."
"Yes," Andromeda agrees. Her hand stings. "I suppose you do."
"Everything I have done, I did for family; everything--"
Narcissa stops herself speaking with visible effort. A crash sounds outside, a loud rumble of laughter. Andromeda finds her fists clenched and forces them open. Narcissa's lips form a wry almost-smile.
"Bella's dead. She served until the last, for all it did her. I let the Ministry deal with the body as it will."
Andromeda nods acknowledgement.
"Well." Narcissa shifts awkwardly before inclining her head, the smallest of bows. "It was--" She smiles bitterly, waving this off, and sweeps away, skirts swirling in the dust.
"How did she die?" Andromeda calls.
Narcissa stops in the doorway without looking back. After a long moment, she says, "Molly Weasley took her down, defending her daughter."
Andromeda doesn't let herself react, just says, "Thank you."
Another interminable pause, and then Narcissa nods again, and turns into the corridor outside. Her footsteps fade away until they are lost in the background.
Andromeda reaches for the shroud, lets her hand drop. A flick of her wand brings her a chair; she sits heavily, staring at the still sheet. She almost reaches out again but the fingers under it would be cold and stiff, would not feel her own grasping them. She can't reach that far.
No one can.
vii.
Andromeda screams again, tears splashing her clawing hands. She crawls into herself, trying to escape the searing, the lightning. There is no refuge, only pain. She can't hear Bellatrix shouting any more, can't hear the questions she won't answer, the questions she can't. What did she know of the Order, save that it was necessary, save that it scared her? And now the Ministry is fallen, fallen; now there is war--
"Tell me," Bellatrix screams. "Tell me the truth!"
Andromeda chokes out a laugh. "That's all I've ever told you, Bella. That's all--"
They scream together, down into the dark.
viii.
"Shh, baby, shh," Nymphadora whispers, rocking the crying baby. "Hush little baby, don't you cry, momma's gonna forget all the words -- come on, Teddy. Be a good boy for mummy."
"Let me take him," Andromeda says, knotting the tie of her gown and holding her arms out.
"Did we wake you?" Nymphadora asks, apologetically.
"I wasn't sleeping," Andromeda says. "Please."
They manoeuvre the baby from one set of arms to the other.
"He misses his dad." Nymphadora sighs, stroking his head. "We all do. Remus will be back soon love."
"Sit," Andromeda orders, and Nymphadora does, elbows on the table, rubbing at her face.
Andromeda cradles Teddy carefully in the crook of one arm, humming a little as she walks around the kitchen, wand flicking, pulling out a mug, heating milk, melting chocolate.
"He'll come back," Nymphadora says at last, looking up defiantly at Andromeda from under a hanging fringe of pink. "I know he will. And we'll fight together, side by side; we'll make the world better for Teddy."
"For Teddy," Andromeda agrees, placing the steaming mug in front of Nymphadora. She curls her fingers white-knuckle tight around it.
Teddy hiccoughs, grousing a little, turning his head into Andromeda.
ix.
"...then I declare you bonded for life."
A shower of sparks falls down over their entwined fingers. Applause rings out. Andromeda laughs, leaning in to Ted's kiss. Bells ring out, and bird song; there's laughter and music as wedding became reception, chairs moved aside, tables covered in food and dance-floor filled. Ted pulls her out too and she goes, laughing still, his hands in hers, leading them into a simple waltz.
"You'll never get rid of me now," Ted says smugly, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
"We'll see," Andromeda says, grinning back.
Ted just laughs, dipping her into the spin.
x.
Harry Potter sits on her couch. He is pale and trembling. She listens to him try to speak praise of people he barely knew. When she can stand it no more, she leaves the room without speaking and stands in the hall, one hand on the wall to hold herself up, the other clenched in a fist against her heart, to hold it in.
When Andromeda returns, it's to find Harry leaving. He stops when he sees her and she understands suddenly that he didn't expect her to come back. She tries to remember what a smile looks like. It doesn't take. Instead she holds out her arms, holds out the precious, gurgling bundle in them.
"This is Teddy," she says. "This is your godson."
She has to show him how to hold the baby properly, how to support his head, how to keep him safe and secure. They sit together on the couch. She straightens her skirts. His clothes are too large for him. He bends over the baby, cooing, and smiling through the tears that wash down his cheeks and darken the blue of the blanket.
"Hello, Teddy," he whispers. "Hello, baby."
For the moment, it is enough.