She passed ‘London Zoo’ and a corner of her mouth quirked. Another oddity of the Muggles, collecting animals in cages for viewing.
She passed an impressive building, white capitals wholly lining its façade like eternal sentries, and she nodded to herself, another proof that Muggles weren’t entirely trash.
She passed many things, many people, and they let her pass and look, without flinching, or hissing, or glaring, or yelling. She’d grown so accustomed to these she had even half-expected Ted to do the same those first moments they had been reunited.
She folded an arm across her chest. She walked on and faintly shrugged; memories were laying a hand on her shoulders.
It was nice, to be among people again and… To be among them, simply. Muggles though they were.
Ted was right. She was glad she came.
Snow had yet to come and it was sunny for the end of November. She wondered how long it would last, and frowned at herself for wondering.
She promptly sat down as she passed a wood and wrought-iron bench and turned her face up to the sky, closing her eyes and relishing the unseasonable warmth, just enjoyed it without questioning it, or suspecting it of tempting her and plotting to disillusion her.
Light bore down on her eyelids; it stung. But her face was warm, and her neck felt like it was enclosed in beloved hands.
“Can we sit down for a minute before you wear me to death? I can’t keep up with you.”
Except for a small flutter of her eyelids, Andromeda didn’t betray her disconcertion. If the Fates were favoring her, whoever had just shared her bench would let her be. Wasn’t that what strangers did to each other?
The sound of smacking kisses and a young child’s giggles, however, undid her.
She slowly realigned her neck and let her eyes glance to her right.
Red and blue and pink whizzed by. In spite of herself, Andromeda’s head snapped to follow it.
“Oh no, you don’t! I said we’ll sit for a minute, you imp!”
Giggling and clapping his hands on his edible-looking cheeks, the red-headed darling in his fluffy blue snow-suit allowed his mother to snatch him back to the bench.
“He’s a little hellion, I’m sorry if we disturbed you.”
Andromeda raised her eyes from the child to the woman.
Andromeda blinked, sifting through names, for from habit and upbringing names were still in distinct cupboards in her mind. She rifled though for several moments before she matched a name to the face instead of to blood and fortune.
Margaux Prewett.
“Andromeda Black?”
“Tonks now.”
Rings on their left hands were on each of their peripheral visions. Inescapable recognition passed from one face to the other. A sense of kinship beyond being witches in that park full of Muggles.
“This is William Arthur Weasley.”
“Hello, little William.”
“It’s his birthday.”
Andromeda smiled and squeezed the little hand grasping her finger.
They sat there. Even William was companionably silent. It was surreal. During the five years they had been under the same roof at Hogwarts, they had barely glanced at each other. And now there they were, sharing the same bench, the same patch of sunlight, perhaps even thinking the same thing about the passing girl’s dowdy coat and bonnet.
“If you don’t mind me asking, were they hard on you?”
Andromeda shrugged. “I’ve certainly been treated better. And I was able to escape before they even contemplated being adamant.”
Margaux Prewett”no, Weasley” nodded, her expression soft, sympathizing.
Andromeda scoffed. “You were lucky.”
“My brothers and my great-aunt still consider flaying Arthur alive, but I’m lucky, yes.”
“My Grandmother Rosier was my smidgen of good fortune. Well, her senility was. We were alone in the house. She gave me her wand. Prodded the tip against my cheek. She thought it was the poker.”
Margaux Weasley lost her soft expression.
Andromeda averted her eyes and touched William’s red, red curls. “How did you get married?”
“Here. In an office. It paid off for once, his being obsessed with Muggles.”
“It hardly felt binding, did it?”
Margaux Weasley grinned. Andromeda couldn’t help the upturn of the corners of her own lips, though she pretended to be diverted by another dowdy passerby.
“Arthur’s found a job at the Ministry. He’s supposed to get off early today. We’re to meet here.”
“Ted’s somewhere here in London, too. He… reads news,” Andromeda said dubiously. “He said Muggles watch him from te-le-visions, or something like that.”
“Well, that’s nice. Safer. I wish Arthur would find a Muggle job, too. You-Know-Who’s not paying mind to Muggles just yet. He’s crippling us first.”
They shared a look that might have lasted a second or a minute in which affinity once more hummed in between them, before Andromeda rose from the bench. Little William jumped in his mother’s lap and stared at her with bewildered blue eyes.
“Margaux””
A wave of the hand. “It’s Molly.”
“Molly. I’ll be going. It’s been nice. You have a happy birthday, William.”
Without waiting for Molly’s response, Andromeda walked away and walked on, keeping her pace brisk, determined to leave behind things she had no control over, nor the inclination to face. Fighting for Ted had been enough of a fight to last for a lifetime.
~ * ~
For the third morning that week, she rose with the sun, but with less grace and with a lot of hurry, bathroom-ward.
When she finished, she went to their bedroom window and raised the sash.
The horizon was tinged with pink. She stood there watching that pink lighten to orange and to yellow, while the azure of the night retreated and diminished, changing into the delicious blue of the day sky.
She was so occupied with keeping her mind on the view and only on the view that she jumped when Ted spoke. She didn’t even realize she was leaning back against him.
“You shouldn’t worry, you know. Not until the teen years, at least,” he chuckled.
Andromeda smiled. Ted sighed with relief and tightened his arms around her. Last night, he had mentioned rumors of rife Imperiuses in the Ministry. But that was last night. And only last night. Never to be repeated. Their days were always began and kept light, happy; there was only the sun, the milk, the dinner, Mrs Applejohn's geraniums, sometimes the laundry, since they didn’t have an elf.
“What will he or she be like, do you think?”
“All babies begin begin life like the dark side of the moon, love.”
“That sounds morbid.”
Ted laughed. “I never was good with idioms. I only meant, babies are bundles of mysteries. Not just joy. But then we should concentrate on the joy, don't you think?"
Andromeda smiled. That was just like him. She rolled her eyes. She always did when she was feeling particularly tender toward Ted Tonks. “It made me think our child will marry either a vampire or a werewolf.” Flippantly. She'd learnt this from him.
Ted roared with laughter, hugging her tighter. “Well, their mother did marry ‘atrociously’.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She turned back to the sunrise. Her walk in Regent’s Park and the chance encounter with Molly Weasley had left its mark. It was right outside Andromeda’s windows: neighbors.
And with neighbors they would stay until You-Know-Who was done with his schemes or done for. The woman didn’t have a maniacal sister as she did, but Andromeda wondered how Molly endured the frightening seclusion, and then shook her head to stop her wondering.
Her hand went to her middle.
She already had enough to wonder about.
Head in the Sand by lucilla_pauie
Chapter Endnotes: With thanks to Jenna (The Vault) for being a great SPEW VP, agreeing to beta this on short notice, spotting and correcting a badly missing comma and a badly phrased sentence, and heartening me with her assessment during the Swap. ^_^Thank you for reading. Tell me what you think. I'm only just beginning to experiment with and explore these obscure (for me who writes and read Trio-centric/era fics) characters. Was it bad or not bad? Excepting the continuity error of it being warm and Bill being in a snowsuit -- thanks to Kerichi for pointing that out, hee.