Disclaimer: With humble gratitude to J. K. Rowling for allowing me to build castles in her sandbox once more.
Fifteen
Andromeda: Tea and Sympathy
The wallpaper border of chocolate frog cards could not have been more ideal. It was as if Dumbledore was peering past solarium windows into a cheery nursery painted his favorite shade of sherbet lemon. He regretted that he no longer had taste buds with which to enjoy such sweet indulgences. Time and time again, he was drawn to the encapsulation of a grandmother’s love for her grandson, a baby who already sported the ability for wild hair colors he’d inherited from his mother. It would have been an endearing sight were it not for the heaviness of sorrow that creased Andromeda’s face.
The weighty boulder in the great wizard’s heart knew no surcease these days as the newly departed had become his frequent companions in the great beyond. How he longed to ease Andromeda’s misery by telling her that her daughter and son-in-law had found some measure of happiness among their cohorts. How her husband, Ted, had made quick friends of the reunited band of Marauders, attaining posthumous acceptance in much the same manner as Severus had.
But such messages across the metaphysical divide were not allowed. Just as the living were not permitted a similar window into the land of the dead. To attempt to break such laws would shatter the fabric of time and space irrevocably; and Dumbledore did not want the end of the world to come as the result of his actions. It would have made a mockery of the deaths of those who had sought to secure a better way of life for their fellows.
Fortunately, Molly Weasley was equally fascinated by infants and often brought freshly baked casseroles to make certain Andromeda did not neglect her own needs.
“Nonsense, dear,” Molly’s nurturing instincts rose to the fore as she waved off Andromeda’s protests. “It’s no trouble to spoon some extra into another container. My hands never seem to remember that some of my boys no longer live at home. There’s always extra.”
Behind Andromeda’s compassionate eyes, it was evident that she was recalling that Molly, too, had lost a son in the recent conflict. “I can’t deny it’s nice to have some adult company,” Andromeda capitulated. Then noticing that little Teddy was sleeping soundly on her shoulder, she excused herself to nestle him in his crib upstairs.
She returned with the intent to offer her guest some refreshments, but found that Molly had already made a fresh pot of tea. Andromeda graciously accepted her new friend’s overzealous nurturing as she slid her weary bones into the adjoining kitchen chair.
Despite their different circumstances, the two women had instantly bonded over amusing stories of their children’s antics. Although the laughter was often punctuated with bittersweet tears, they found solace in one another’s heartache. Granted, nothing could hold a candle to the coordinated campaigns the twins had perfected once they were old enough to walk; but as an only child in the midst of a Muggle neighborhood, Dora had created her own brand of chaos.
“Trust me, my daughter could’ve benefitted from having a sibling to prank,” Andromeda allowed as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Molly had just finished recounting how Fred and George had once again gotten a rise out of their stuffy brother, Percy.
“Often the others tried to get even which just escalated the mischief,” Molly elaborated. “Ron was usually easy going enough that he just joined in the laughter at his own expense, but Ginny would retaliate in devious ways that often took the twins by surprise a few days later.”
Andromeda nodded knowingly and attempted to launch into a tale of how Ted had taken seven-year-old Dora to see a children’s matinee. A few sentences into the recounting, the enormity of her loss threatened to overwhelm her.
Quickly stepping in, Molly assured her in an oblique manner. “Oh, how well I recall the Muggle cinema palace! Arthur used to take me there when we were courting. Rumored to be a hot house of teenage passion, it was; but Arthur’s main objective for sitting in the balcony was to view the whirling projection dragon first-hand.”
Andromeda couldn’t resist smiling into Molly’s kind eyes. “He was obsessed even then?”
“Oh, yes. Finally I had to grab him by the lapels and kiss him myself!”
Andromeda issued a low laugh which grew in intensity as Molly pantomimed not just her own determined expression, but Arthur’s flustered one as well.
“Can’t rightly remember what was playing; likely Arthur does, though,” Molly confided. “What movie did Dora see?”
“A classic Tarzan trilogy. Favorites from Ted’s own boyhood.”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. But I remember reading the Tarzan books to my eldest boys long after they’d outgrown bedtime stories.”
Warming up to her subject matter, Andromeda’s voice mellowed as she elaborated, “Ted should’ve mentioned that the stunts were performed by trained aerialists, but it totally slipped his mind. So as soon as she got back home, Dora found herself a nice clump of oaks in our backyard. If her attempts at the trademark yell hadn’t set our poor dog to howling miserably, I might not’ve made it into the backyard in time. As it was, I was caught totally off-guard when she launched herself in a swan dive towards the next tree branch.”
“Were you able to counter with a Levitation Charm?”
“Wasn’t fast enough with my wand. I was halfway through a Cushioning Charm when her little hands failed to curl around the rough branch and she dropped like a sack.” Andromeda smiled at Molly’s horrified expression. “She bounced like a regular ball when she hit the ground -- then lost her footing as she flashed a cheeky grin in my direction and landed in a mud puddle!”
Through her laughter, Molly admitted, “I don’t know how Muggles do it. Had our children not been born with unconscious magical defenses, they would’ve broken every bone in their bodies.”
“Is it a small wonder that immobilizing casts are so popular they come in designer colors now?”
“You don’t say?” Molly marveled at Andromeda’s familiarity with both wizards and Muggles alike.
“It a good thing that didn’t come about until Dora was safely at Hogwarts,” Andromeda confided. “She would’ve caused a stir by demanding a striped or tie-dyed variation!”
“Even though a fracture could be remedied with a quick bit of wandwork?”
“She would’ve sported it as a fashion accessory,” Andromeda predicted.
“Do you think Teddy will take after his mother in those ways, too?”
“Merlin, it will be the death of me if he does!”
“What kind of temperament did Remus have as a child?” Molly ventured, even though the man who had so often visited the Burrow had rarely spoken of his childhood.
“He never said. Dora once told me that his whole world had been turned upside down once he’d been bitten “ and he was only five at the time. But surely one can imagine that a lad of five who ventured out his bedroom window and into the woods to observe nocturnal animals was rather fearless.”
“A true Gryffindor.”
“With the perseverance to deal with calamity when it was forced upon him.”
“Did you ever think to ask Remus directly?” Molly posed. “He could be rather forthcoming around those he trusted.”
Andromeda sadly gazed into the dregs of her tea. “I wish I had. All I have is his comment that enforced solitude had become so ingrained in him by the time he boarded the Hogwarts Express that it had come as a shock that others didn’t see him as a freak of nature from the onset.”
Molly commented on the commonalities that had brought Remus and Tonks together despite their outward differences. “Remus once told me that if anything ever happened to me or Arthur, he would see to it that our children didn’t starve.”
Andromeda’s eyes grew wide at the scope of such a promise. “But a man without a steady job… and you had how many at home then?”
Molly took a moment to consider. Now that it was mended, she couldn’t rightly remember when the rift with Percy had started “ nor did it matter really. “Four or five,” she shrugged. “And all our boys always had healthy appetites.”
Andromeda shook her head in disbelief. “Sounds just like him. Always thinking with his heart. Despite all the time he lived with us, I was never prepared when the full moon came ‘round each month. Not meaning to be critical, but it seemed like he had the most unlikely temperament for a werewolf.”
Molly chortled at the assessment which so agreed with her own. “Never could figure out how to convey that to Remus without it coming across as an affront. He must’ve felt like a misfit no matter what he did.”
“I suppose that’s one of the reasons Dora loved him so. That and the fact that he could always make her laugh at the unlikeliest things…Not that she told me much about him until she announced that she was getting married in a few days time and would her father and I like to attend.”
Ever the optimist, Molly supplied, “Saved you the expense of an elaborate wedding.”
“I was so afraid that Dora’s impetuous nature had caused her to make a rash decision.”
“It wasn’t rash at all. I think she just didn’t want him to change his mind “ again.”
“Again?”
“I see now that she didn’t tell you the full story,” Molly sighed. Would it be breaking a confidence now that Tonks was gone? Deciding that Andromeda was the priority at the moment, she elaborated, “In the months after Sirius’ death, the headquarters for our secret organization was moved temporarily to the Burrow. It was not unusual for Tonks to linger after meetings looking for a sympathetic ear. Especially during those months when Dumbledore had sent Remus on a secret mission within the werewolf camps.”
Andromeda gasped. “She must’ve been sick with worry!”
“Remus was being rather cagey even before that, convinced that the biggest favor he could do for her was to simply leave her alone. It nearly broke Tonks’ heart in the process.”
“But why? Didn’t he love her then?”
“He argued that a life of suffering was the only thing a monster like him deserved. It took Tonks a long time to convince him that it was pointless for the both of them to be miserable when the solution was so simple.”
Andromeda shook her head in disbelief. “No wonder she was anxious to cement the deal before he had second thoughts.”
“And no wonder he still had lingering doubts after,” Molly added.
“I never knew,” Andromeda breathed. “All I caught was that it was Harry who had the courage to tell Remus he was acting like a right fool and send him back to deal with his unborn child.”
Biting her lip, Molly issued, “I think Harry still regrets those cross words.”
“Rubbish! Remus thought the world of Harry.”
“Why else would the man ask him to be Teddy’s godfather?”
“Clearly, Remus intended for Harry to be part of his new family,” Andromeda maintained. “Is Harry having doubts?”
“Not about that.”
Noticing her friend’s troubled look, Andromeda pressed, “Is that why he hasn’t come to visit?”
“He’s consumed with guilt, or at least that’s what the Healers think. They’ve recommended that he take a sabbatical. Sort himself out in a more restful environment.”
Andromeda’s face registered shock. “Surely, you don’t mean a sanitarium?”
“Nothing as drastic as that. More like a spiritual retreat in Greece. Commune with nature and all. There’ll be counselors to help him through the process.”
“You make it sound like a personal quest.” The doubt was evident in Andromeda’s tone.
“Apparently it’s used by the Auror Department quite frequently to deal with cases of battle fatigue.”
“But Harry’s so young…”
“And we asked him to take on a man’s responsibility long before his time,” Molly emphasized. “Is it any wonder he was naïve enough to think that everyone would come through unharmed?”
How vividly those words conjured the surreal atmosphere that had followed the Final Battle, Andromeda considered inwardly. It had been late morning when she’d been roused from the nursery by a sharp rap on her front door. Teddy was still soundly asleep in his crib. He always grew drowsy after his morning bottle and he’d been quite fussy the night before as if sensing that his mother had slipped out of the house soundlessly. Still feeling an overpowering sense of weariness, Andromeda had drifted off in the nearby rocking chair.
With worry throbbing in her veins, she picked her way carefully down the stairs in response to the summons. Perhaps, she’d misheard. It was not unusual for the house to creak when the surroundings were at their most tranquil. In the kitchen, Dora’s hastily scribbled note still hung on the white icebox door where Andromeda had discovered it in the night.
As her slipper reached the foot of the stairs, the knock came again. Softly, as if the visitor were shy or hesitant in some manner.
Or too weak, the thought sent all sorts of alarms to ringing inside her brain. Especially as the hazy outline was so reminiscent of the ragged version of Remus from so many months ago.
As she drew nearer, the silhouette resolved itself into two figures with the tangerine sun at their backs. One shorter and one tall and lean. Forgetting all about the redundant layers of protection that warded the house, Andromeda threw back the door with bated breath.
The smile froze on her lips when she recognized the battered figure of Harry before her. In the scant months since he’d crash-landed in her backyard, the lad’s eyes had gained a hard, steely look that belied his true youthfulness. At his back, the steadying hand of Bill Weasley kept Harry from swaying on his feet.
On wooden legs, she ushered them into her front room. Before she could form coherent words through a sandpaper tongue, Harry collapsed on his knees and wordlessly clasped her hands in supplication.
She’d spared a questioning glance at Bill whose face bore the haggard lines of too much worry coupled with too little sleep. With a solemn head shake, he supplied, “Harry insisted on coming in person. I was the only one who could penetrate the Fidelius, assuming it still holds.”
Andromeda nodded that it did and returned her attention to the huddled form at her feet. The bowed head reminded her of a vassal waiting to be knighted by his liege.
In a bare whisper, she ventured, “Did we win? Is that madman gone once and for all?”
“Yes,” Harry croaked, his voice breaking as he added, “It’s finally over.”
Laying a hand on his raven head, Andromeda softly urged, “Why did you not tell me this to my face?”
Harry’s shoulders hitched in a shrug which dissolved into a sob. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “So sorry. So very, very, very sorry.” He fumbled underneath his robes and extracted two wooden batons. Pressing his lips reverently to each in turn, he presented them wordlessly to Andromeda.
She’d taken a step back as she gasped in sudden comprehension. Remus’ and Dora’s wands. That’s what Harry was so contritely offering up to her. That had to mean…No, oh no, it couldn’t be…First Ted, now this…
Bill lunged to catch her by the elbow but it was already too late. With a wailing sob, Andromeda fell to her knees. She crushed the wands to her chest with one hand as her other arm engulfed Harry in a tight hug. They clung like that for many long minutes, the sobs raking both their bodies in turn, each lost in his own personal torment.
It had not been until that very moment, many weeks later, that Molly’s words finally made sense of Harry’s elaborate ceremony. He had not been seeking reward or benediction when he’d thrown himself at her feet. He’d been seeking absolution.
Andromeda’s concern deepened as she caught the dregs of worry still lingering in her friend’s face. “What else has you out of sorts?”
Molly hesitated as she considered how much personal baggage she should unload. “The Healer insisted that since Harry’s distress is punctuated with abandonment issues, he should take a companion.”
Andromeda failed to see the problem. “So Ron and Hermione aren’t willing to see him through? It’s still summer term break.”
“They were with him during his joyless Horcrux search,” Molly qualified. “And that’s the last thing Harry needs to be reminded of. The Healer insisted he grow in other directions.”
“Then who?”
“Ginny. She practically jumped at the opportunity.” She’d practically jumped into Harry’s arms, but Molly discretely omitted that detail. After a year’s enforced separation, it was clear her daughter was determined to not let anything stand in the way of her fragile reconciliation. After all, Molly knew that even the most single-minded man could lose his way when bombarded from all sides.
“You think she’s too young,” Andromeda sagely surmised.
Molly nodded. “But I can’t change the fact that she’ll be seventeen in less than a month’s time. It’s too late to alter the date on her birth certificate.”
Andromeda issued a throaty laugh as she commiserated with the lengths to which mothers would go. “If it makes any difference, I felt the same way when Dora moved into a flat of her own “ and she was already a year into her Auror training by then. Time won’t make a difference.”
“She’ll always be my little girl.”
“As was Dora, even when I watched her give birth to her own child. Have you thought to speak with Ginny directly?” Andromeda urged with a gentle smile.
“Did that put your mind at ease?”
“The younger generation has a much more pragmatic approach to these things. Before she moved out on her own, Dora assured me that she had quite mastered the Contraceptive Charm, thank you very much. Then in the next breath, she confided she’d never had cause to use it.”
Molly couldn’t help chuckling at Tonks’ disarming manner. “Do you think she was being completely honest?”
Andromeda shrugged. “Even if she wasn’t, she at least made me feel that she wasn’t being reckless.”
It was clear Molly was thinking of how many children she’d borne by the age of twenty-five. “I want Ginny to feel she has options at her age. She shouldn’t dive head first into anything.”
“Is that what you feel she’s doing with Harry?”
Molly took a moment to compose her thoughts. “Not entirely,” she sighed. “It’s just that she’d taken such a schoolgirl fancy to him that she was speechless in his presence during her entire first year at school.”
“Sounds like she outgrew that.”
“I fully thought she’d outgrown him as she made no secret of dating others in the intervening years.”
“What about Harry?”
“He didn’t seem to rightly notice at first, at least not openly. Then during his last year at school, I’d catch him pining at the most unlikely moments when he came to visit. When an inconsolable Ginny returned from Dumbledore’s funeral, she blubbered that they’d started dating only weeks before Harry’s final assignment was destined to tear them apart.”
“Knowing how headstrong you claim she can be, I’m surprised Ginny didn’t insist on accompanying Harry then.”
“Oh, she did. Argued quite vociferously about it all summer “ even if only Arthur and I were there to listen. Harry wouldn’t budge in his resolve to keep her out of danger and to prevent her from being used as a weapon against him. Even when our side was grossly outnumbered at the Battle of Hogwarts. He certainly didn’t express any similar concerns about any of his other schoolmates.”
“Dora would’ve called that sexism.”
Molly nodded grimly. “It made Ginny chafe as well. It was only later when I realized how much of a strain it put on Harry that I concluded he must have cared very deeply to have stood his ground.”
“Ginny can be very persuasive, you’re saying?”
“She can make your life miserable until the sheer discomfort wears you down,” Molly observed. “How could I turn down her entreaties when she explained that holding Harry’s hand helped her through her own anguish at losing her brother?”
Andromeda gave a look to indicate that she understood only too well. “Love is a more powerful emotion than sorrow. We fight to hang onto love; we are struck down by sorrow.”
“It’s why we’re always told to concentrate on the living,” Molly affirmed.
In a slightly tremulous voice, Andromeda elaborated, “A heart brimming with love will consign grief to the back shelf where it belongs “ instead of leaving it in the middle of the floor where it constantly impedes our progress.”
“Sounds like you have the theory down, but its day-to-day application is more difficult.”
Andromeda nodded wordlessly before deftly guiding them into less painful waters. “When does Harry leave?” she inquired.
“The week after his eighteenth birthday. I insisted that he at least let us throw him a bon voyage and birthday party in one.”
“You’re afraid he won’t come back,” Andromeda observed with mounting anxiety.
“Neither of them will come back the same,” Molly concurred. “I keep telling myself that both he and my son, Ron, grew into manhood while my back was turned. And Ginny fully admitted to the Healer that helping Harry has allowed her to accept her own grief. But it’s never easy…”
Andromeda commiserated that her own maternal feelings had not faded one bit, even after only memories of her daughter remained. With sudden inspiration, she added, “Will you allow me and Teddy to come to the party?”
“Well, of course,” Molly stammered. “But how? Teddy’s still an infant and the Burrow’s a long train ride away.”
Andromeda laughed outright. “Now who’s thinking like a Muggle? Your house has been reconnected to the Floo Network, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, but young children hate that almost as much as Apparition!”
“Most do,” Andromeda conceded. “But little Dora didn’t. Her father convinced her that it was a wizard’s way of tumbling inside the clothes dryer like she’d seen at her Muggle grandmother’s house. She squealed with joy the whole way. I suspect Teddy will be the same.”