Alphard Black had been minding his own business in the Leaky Cauldron, flipping absently through a rhyming dictionary and muttering to himself, when his niece slid into the seat across from him. “Alphard,” she whispered, trying to get his attention.
When he ignored her, she tried again, a little louder. “Alphard.”
Alphard, who was running his finger down the list of rhymes for “adore,” decided he would answer just as soon as he found one he liked.
“Uncle Alphie!” she exclaimed finally, using the nickname he hadn’t heard since Regulus had turned eight.
He looked up in exasperation. “What is it, Meda?”
Andromeda smiled sweetly at him. “You haven’t seen me in five months,” she pointed out with mock innocence. “I would have thought that you’d jump at the chance to talk to me. Haven’t you missed me at all?”
“Yes, but I was kind of in the middle of something.”
The look on her pretty face got so mock-angelic it was ridiculous. “What could possibly be more important than spending quality time with your family?” she asked him.
“That stopped being cute about the time you were twelve,” Alphard told her, throwing the dictionary down on the table and absent-mindedly picking up his cup of tea. It wasn’t as if he was going to get anything done now that Meda had sat down. She was much more interesting than his attempts to compose poetry, anyway.
Now that she had his attention, however, Meda seemed to have lost interest in actually telling him anything. She was looking down at the rhyming dictionary with her head cocked slightly. “Why do you need a rhyming dictionary, Alphard?” she wanted to know.
“Because, at the risk of it getting back to the family that I quoted a Muggle, I was not born under a rhyming planet,” Alphard answered dryly.
Andromeda looked up with her eyebrows raised. “Who said that?”
“William Shakespeare,” Alphard answered. “Or more accurately his character Benedict in Much Ado About Nothing. Now why don’t you go get yourself something and then we can spend an hour catching up on the next couple of months.”
Meda nodded and got to her feet, but not without another glance at the dictionary. “Why do you even try to compose poetry, then?” she asked, shaking her head. “What’s wrong with prose? Ted says your short stories are one of the only three good things your generation of Blacks produced.”
“The other two?”
“Me and Sirius.”
Alphard laughed. “Ted has good taste,” he answered. “Then again, I suppose I already knew that,” he added, “since he married you.”
Meda rolled her eyes, aware he was half-joking, and went to go get something from Tom. She returned a few minutes later with a pumpkin juice and a faint smile on her face. “So how’d the rest of the family take my marriage?”
“About as well as they took Sirius’s House a few years ago,” Alphard answered with a shrug. “Did you expect anything less?”
“No,” Andromeda admitted. “But I wanted details.”
“Ah, well . . . Walburga blew your name off the family tapestry; Sirius and Regulus were both a bit upset about it. Don’t look so surprised at that, Reg certainly believes blood is thicker than water. Your grandmother was practically in tears, I think your dad might’ve killed someone or something if Orion and I hadn’t intervened around the time he started to storm out the door. . . .” He paused, trying to remember more about the night he’d brought the news home that Meda had actually gone through with her marriage” and thatfor lack of anyone else, he’d walked her down the aisle. “Bella’s swearing revenge. Cissy might’ve thought it was romantic if everything else hadn’t happened. . . . Regulus, Sirius, and I’ve been working on her; she might still come around.” He shrugged. “Do you want anything else?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s more than enough.” For a few minutes they sat in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Finally, however, Andromeda spoke up again. “Do you think I made a mistake?”
Alphard choked on the tea and set it down, muttering a curse under his breath. “What makes you say that?” he asked, running his fingers nervously through his black hair.
“Nothing. Well . . . it seems that it came down to a choice between Ted and my family. Do you think I made the wrong one?”
Alphard sighed. She was finally asking him to do what he’d been afraid Meda or Sirius” maybe both” would do for years: take sides. Alphard lived on the edge of the family as it was, dodging his mother’s latest list of girls who might take a balding man in his forties, or his sister’s accusations of him as a Muggle-lover, or Bellatrix in general, who had been causing trouble since she was conceived. He liked watching at the edge; it kept him out of trouble and able to offer sympathy to Meda or Sirius without really taking sides. “Erm. . . .”
“Well?” Meda asked again, looking at him intently. That grey gaze, so similar to his own, or Sirius’s, or Wally’s, or Bella’s, was making him uncomfortable.
Alphard pulled out his pipe and lit it. “That depends,” he admitted as he jammed it between his teeth.
Meda wrinkled her nose and took the distracting bait. “Didn’t the healer tell you to stop smoking after you had that heart-attack?” she demanded.
“Yes, but whenever did I listen to the healer?” he asked, and shrugged. “Meda, I know I’m cutting my life in half, and I’ve decided I don’t care. It’s in our genes, anyway. Very few people in the family’ve made it to sixty.”
“That’s encouraging,” she muttered.
“There’s still some hope for you, actually.Your mother's a Rosier, and that family lives a lot longer than most Blacks.”
She fiddled with an earring for a few minutes while he smoked. Anyone who was watching would have thought Andromeda was the nervous one. Finally, she added, “It depends on what, Alphard?”
While he knew perfectly well what she was talking about, he stalled further. “What depends on what?”
“Whether or not I made a mistake marrying Ted,” she answered promptly.
“Oh, that.” Alphard glared at his pipe for moment, wondering if he could get away with putting it back in his mouth and taking more time to answer. He decided he couldn't. “Well, are you happy?”
She flushed. “What kind of a question is that? Of course I’m happy.”
“It’s the kind of question I can’t help but ask when you’ve been married for five months and you’re already wondering whether or not it was a mistake.”
“I haven’t seen anyone in five months, Alphard, and that’s why I’m beginning to wonder.”
“That’s good. I like Ted. I wouldn’t want to have to let Cygnus have at him after all. So send Sirius an owl,” Alphard suggested, putting his pipe out and shoving it back into the pocket of his robe. “He’ll answer. Maybe Regulus, too. And if you’re lucky, Cissy might decide that the whole story’s romantic and forgive you.”
“But you don’t think it was a mistake?”
Alphard shrugged. “No, as a matter of fact I don’t. Not if you’re happy. Now, honestly, what brought the question on in the first place?”
“Probably just a rush of hormones.”
“Meda, you’re eighteen. Nearly nineteen. Hormones shouldn’t be a big issue anymore.” He paused, then reached automatically into his pocket for his pipe once again. “Unless . . . no, it’s too early.”
Meda reached over and grabbed his wrist, slowly dragging his hand out of his pocket and jerking the pipe out of his grasp. “The healer said no. And it is not too early, not when we’ve been married five months and I just found out I’m pregnant yesterday.”
“Trust me, Meda, it’s still too early to be having a baby,” Alphard answered. He cocked his head slightly, staring at her. “But you and Ted did move rather fast,” he murmured. “You just started dating a year and a half ago. A lot of people have moved fast, since the murders and disappearances started.”
Andromeda sighed. “Can’t you just come out and call it a war?”
“No. I won’t call it a war until Wally does, because I have no desire to be blown off of her tapestry. And she thinks he’s got the right idea.” He said “she” like he was muttering a curse. Alphard agreed with his sister about as much as Sirius or Andromeda did. He was simply a lot less vocal about it, preferring to remain part of the family. After all, this way there might be some hope for Cissy and Reg.
He shook his head and returned to the subject at hand. “But congratulations anyway, Meda. And at least this explains why you got pumpkin juice instead of coffee or butterbeer. I did wonder.”
Meda rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing in coffee, Alphard. And I’m not drinking it because it’s two in the afternoon.”
“Too much caffeine’ll hurt a developing baby, actually,” he answered.
“I’m barely a month along!”
“Which makes it even more important to change your habits now,” Alphard replied.
“You’re one to talk. You’ve had a heart attack and seen our genetically short life spans and you still won’t stop smoking.”
“I’m the only one I’m hurting, Meda,” he pointed out with a shrug.
The two argued about caffeine and tobacco for a little while, and then somehow got on the subject of Sirius and the fourteen-year-old’s latest bout of havoc-wreaking. Alphard’s tea sat ignored and stone-cold by the time a young man with windblown chestnut hair came over and tapped Meda on the shoulder. She jumped and looked around. “Don’t do that, Ted. You scared me!”
“Well, I was beginning to wonder if something hadn’t eaten you,” Ted answered with a grin. “At least I now know what took you so long.” He looked over at Alphard. “Hullo, Mr. Black.”
Alphard shook his head. “It’s Alphard, Ted. We’re family now.”
Ted smiled ruefully. “I just wish I could believe that, sir.”
“Oh, I know two of us who might come around eventually. And if not”” he shrugged” “Sirius and I will still consider you family. And by the way, congratulations. From what Meda tells me, the family’s going to get bigger soon.”
Ted nodded, and Andromeda pulled over a chair and pushed him into it. “Why don’t you join us, Ted? I’m not done catching up on our family yet.”