My idea of a perfect Christmas
is to spend it with you.
In a party or dinner for two,
Anywhere would do.
Scavenging the bread crumbs and biscuits with which Andromeda constantly lined her fleecy yard, the birds flying up and down were mere balls of shadows in the foggy windows. Little Teddy seemed extremely fascinated watching them. He kept still while his grandmother stuffed him into the silliest outfit she’d ever bought: a red velvet suit with white fur on the collar, hems and cuffs. A matching pointed hat with a white tuft at the tip and knitted black booties completed the costume. Andromeda giggled and propped her grandson up on his rump.
“Now, if you’ll only turn your hair white, you’ll be a veritable miniature Father Christmas.”
Still laughing, Andromeda grabbed Teddy and settled him on her hip and the crook of her arm, and together, they left the nursery.
Teddy began babbling and shouting, pointing at the birds outside the window in the hall.
“Yes, yes, maybe I’ll take you outside to see them if you’re a good boy. But lunch first,” Andromeda said, kissing him on the cheek, swatting away his pompom from there. Teddy found it highly amusing. He giggled, grabbed the pompom, and began batting it left and right.
His hair went from cobalt blue to hazelnut brown and to electric blue again.
Andromeda paused in the middle of the stairs and eyed her grandson’s hair. She took a deep breath and blinked furiously.
As though he noticed her, Teddy stopped squirming in her arms, gurgled something unintelligible and stared back into her eyes. His hair went back to its golden brown tone.
“Teddy, please don’t do that.”
Andromeda fought it another second and then it was once again wrung out of her, those painful, soul-stinging sobs.
She continued the rest of her way downstairs, both arms around her grandson. At the landing, she ended the tempest, as she always did, or else she’d die, or worse. It was draining. To grieve was draining. No wonder one couldn’t grieve and live at the same time.
Teddy was still staring at her, his little lips parted. Andromeda kissed him again. “Grandma did it again, didn’t she? Silly Grandma. But, really, Teddy, your hair”” She choked at that and had to swallow another sob as they reached the kitchen. She placed Teddy on his high chair and then hastened to drink a glass of water.
Five scalding swallows later of what seemed to be liquefied ice, she felt better, steadier. She turned back to her grandson. His hair had mercifully switched to coral this time. Though it clashed with his costume, Andromeda was thankful. She smiled ruefully and reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes with strained peas she’d prepared earlier.
Teddy was already tapping his spoon against his high chair’s table. Andromeda gave him the bowl. He dug in and the floor received its customary first spoonful for the meal.
Andromeda sat down beside him. Watching his complete contentment over his babble and mush, she was almost resentful of him and his peace. She wished she could be as without care ”
The fire in the kitchen hearth erupted into green flames at that moment; Andromeda saw its glow against Teddy’s saliva-slicked chin. She furtively wiped her face of any traces of tears that might still be there and turned around to find Molly Weasley’s head in the Floo connection.
“Andromeda, how are you two today?”
“Oh, just fine, Molly, you?”
“Coping. Listen, dear, we’re inviting you for dinner. Charlie’s taking us to Romania for a bit, so we thought we’d budge the family Yule dinner early. Would you come? We’d love to have you.”
“You’re going to Romania?”
“Yes, well, we’ve been there before, visiting Charlie. He thinks now it will be good for us to get away for a while, you know.”
“Indeed, I know. And I understand. And yes, we’re coming. I’ll even come early to help you cook. Please let me.”
“Oh, of course, Andromeda.” Molly laughed. “I don’t remember when someone helped me cook. Ginny and Hermione haven’t reached the age yet when they’re eager to be in the kitchen.”
“Hermione Granger? Is that the Muggleborn friend of Harry Potter’s? Is she coming, too, then?”
“Yes. She’s also Ron’s girlfriend now. She’s been a daughter to me since she was fourteen, though.”
“How nice. Oh Teddy, are you intent on wearing the potatoes instead of eating them?”
The two women laughed. Andromeda shot Scourgify at Teddy’s bib and wiped his face with it. When she turned back to Molly, the woman was looking pensive, even remorseful.
“I’m coming through, dear,” she said.
Andromeda waited. Molly emerged from the fire a second later, shaking her apron free of soot. When she finished, she went to the table and sat down on the chair Andromeda had pulled up for her.
“’Dromeda, I’m sorry about that flippant remark about Hermione. How insensitive of me””
“No, no, it was alright, Molly””
“I was reluctant to leave, you know. I was thinking of you.”
“Oh, Molly, don’t be silly.”
“You’ve been such a comfort to me.”
“And you to me.” They both reached for each other at the same time. Teddy watched the two women hugging and crying in each other’s arms.
“I don’t really want to leave. I feel like I’m deserting my children ” but Andromeda, it’s so difficult! I couldn’t go past F-fred and George’s room without wanting to shriek like a banshee. I’m so pathetic.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a grieving mother, that’s all,” Andromeda said firmly.
They had let go now and were sitting knee to knee again, clasping each other’s hands, as had been their custom since... since.
“And if you’re pathetic, I’m worse. Do you know I break down every time Teddy turns his hair to its natural colour? It’s ” it’s just like Ted’s, Molly, and Nymphadora’s! I suppose Remus’s, too. It’s a combination of all three of them, Teddy’s hair. I just can’t bear it. And to think we lost all three of them within the span of two months! Of course, Ted left long before that, but he was supposed to come back, Molly! He was supposed to come back! And Dora, Remus told her to stay here, but she still went, and I let her!”
By now, Andromeda was sobbing into her hands, repeating the same words, the same sorrows, the same regrets. Molly drew her into another embrace, and they both wept for their... for themselves. Really, wasn’t grief selfish? Surely Ted and Dora and her husband were at peace. It was only that they left her behind ” they left her behind.
Her heart constricted again at this thought, but she held it in, took a deep breath and squeezed Molly before pulling away. “Oh Merlin, I wonder when our waterworks sessions will cease,” Andromeda said wanly. They grinned at Teddy through their tears. He smiled back toothily. Poor child, he was used to this. Even before he’d entered the world, he already knew grief; he had perhaps tasted it while still in his mother’s womb.
Molly waved a hand to say it was fine and then used the same hand to wipe at the corners of her eyes.
“I’ll see you later, dear? I think I have to get fresh butter.”
“Never mind, I’ll bring it.”
Molly gave her a final squeeze, kissed Teddy on the forehead and then went back to the hearth to throw Floo powder on the fire. She smiled back at Andromeda fondly before stepping in.
With a hearty sigh, Andromeda looked back at Teddy after Molly had disappeared. “Well! Are you done smearing peas and potatoes everywhere? Moreover, are you sure you lined your stomach, too, you imp?”
Teddy gurgled gibberish, tapping his spoon blithely. With a smile and a couple of Scourgify spells, Andromeda picked him up.
She shrugged on her coat one-handed and then opened the kitchen door.
The air was frigid; it promised of more snow. Teddy immediately began puffing, loving the way his breaths formed little clouds he could clap. Andromeda sat down on the porch swing ”Teddy on her lap ” beside a burlap bag of old bread, where she also disposed Teddy’s regular cookie and biscuit leftovers.
Several different birds immediately descended in the yard before them. They were mismatched things, two pigeons... was that a redbreast? “and the other three, she couldn’t recognize. Nevertheless, they twittered like they knew each other well and were planning how to make Andromeda sympathetic enough to throw them bread. They hopped and flitted there, chattering.
“See the birds, Teddy? They’re coaxing us to throw the bread.”
She put a large pinch’s worth of crumbs on Teddy’s tiny palm. He gleefully threw it in front of him, and laughed and shrieked at the birds’ flurry and bustle.
Grandmother and grandson watched the birds pecking on the snow, Teddy making little noises and reaching out both arms, his hands opening and closing as though longing to grab each bird.
Andromeda stared transfixed, seeing something else beyond the birds’ apparent delight with the crumbs. Each tilt of their heads as they looked at her to see if she was about to throw more seemed to say ‘I know how you feel’.
And Andromeda wanted to shriek back that they couldn’t possibly ” never.
They were birds. Their hearts had no room for grief. They might be left behind but they always survived and weren’t any different the next spring, when their families and friends came back. For they always came back.
She envied them that.
She cried out at the sudden pain in her jaw; she had been clenching it so hard without realising it. Teddy looked at her puzzled and then reached for the burlap bag. Andromeda, however, held it in a tight fist. She didn’t let go. She had done feeding these birds. If they wouldn’t feel grief, let them squirm and suffer from starvation!
Teddy began to fuss, still insistently tugging at the burlap bag. As always, when he was upset, his hair shifted its hues like an agitated spectrum.
“Teddy.”
He quieted but continued to look petulantly at her. His hair’s change slowed to a stop from carroty, to blinding citrine, to golden brown. And it stayed thus.
Andromeda’s hold on the bag loosened; Teddy lost no time wriggling to fumble with it and plunge his whole arm inside. His little fist came out coated in crumbs and he threw what he held to the birds again, oblivious to his grandmother’s sobs.
He only wriggled when she suddenly hugged him tightly, murmuring in his ear: “Alright, as long as I have you, I’ll consider myself fortunate. More fortunate than these birds who doesn’t know what they’ve lost but doesn’t know what they have either. More fortunate than even Molly, who has a twin son to the one she lost ” hmpf, you’ll be enough for me, my darling Teddy. This hair ” this hair! I’ll look at it and see your mother and grandfather. I still have them in you.”
She laughed shakily and nodded to herself, ruffling his hair. Teddy grinned back, holding out his fist to her, showing the crumbs still sticking between his tiny fingers.
“Yes, I’ve been like your Great Aunt Bellatrix for a moment there, haven’t I? Hating these birds just because they’re inferior and yet equal to me.” She threw crumbs into the air again. “Yes, in a way, I’m very like these birds, Teddy. Left behind. And like them, too, I depend on crumbs. Or else I’ll die. And guess who’s so kind to give them to me?”
Teddy plunged his hand again inside the bag and said something that sounded like, “Woh-wee-mee,” whatever that meant. Nevertheless, Andromeda smiled and wiped her cheeks impatiently on her coat’s sleeve.
“Yes, I have Molly, and you. Especially you, my pet.”
The redbreast hopped three times right to the lowest porch step, and let out several notes to them. Andromeda almost cried again; instead, she gently dropped crumbs onto the spot near the robin ” a kindred spirit, she was certain.
Andromeda made a mental note not to forget the butter, and to pop in at Diagon Alley for some gifts, but for now, she reclined in the swing with her grandson. As it was with the birds, her spring would come, too. She sure had her piece of sunshine already, right there in her lap.
Author’s Note: The verses I’ll begin the chapters with are from a local song A Perfect Christmas, music and lyrics by Jose Mari Chan (I recommend listening to it in the web. It's sad and hopeful at the same time). Of course, the post-Battle of Hogwarts Christmas is far from perfect, but living and letting live is something after such grief, don’t you agree? Thank you for reading, please tell me what you think.