Who: Ted and Dora Tonks-Lupin What: A ridiculously backdated baby/daughter check-up! When: First half of October some time? Where: The Tonkses home Status: Complete!
Tonks was more enthused about what was essentially a healer’s appointment than one really had any right to be. Undoubtedly, she’d be poked and prodded and probably asked some questions that she didn’t know the answers to, which would shake her current feeling that maybe she knew what she was doing and that reading the occasional pregnancy blog here and there in her limited free time was enough to prepare herself. But the thing that had her excited was that she’d get to see her mum, something that happened less and less frequently in the past few weeks as she attempted to evade the MRC. That was just another reason to loathe that commission, as Tonks really wanted to see more of her mother, now especially, not less.
As she approached her childhood home, Tonks let a wave of comfort roll over her. She’d been here often enough lately, but it never felt quite right without both of her parents at home. Knowing that Ted was in there made things feel right, even if the feeling might only be temporary.
Tonks let herself in through the now extensive wards that safeguarded the house--each of them recognized her as someone who belonged.
As soon as she stepped in, though, Tonks was greeted by the final ward, which was perhaps the most discriminating: a perpetually displeased, somewhat massive cat who’d plainly known she’d been approaching the house for a while now through his super-feline senses or whatever it was. For some reason, Tonks liked him even better this way than if he’d been a precious little furball.
She bent down and offered her arm for him to sniff--Tonks knew better by now than to pet him without his consent, as the first time she’d tried that, he’d swiftly slapped her hand away, scratched it, and spat at her. He rubbed against Tonks’ arm one time--a bit halfheartedly and he left a trail of cat fur on her sleeve--then scampered off to most likely beckon Ted. The cat seemed to have it under control, but Tonks called into the house to announce herself, anyway.
“Mum? I’m here!”
Ted hadn’t been home long, and until she heard her daughter’s voice she’d been quite sure that there was nothing she’d rather do than lay in bed – her own bed! – until Andromeda came home from work. Suddenly she found herself mobile again, making it down the stairs in record time. After a liberally applied hug she looked Dora up and down. “You look well,” she decided. “Are you well? This is the Mum Voice, not the Healer Voice, by the way.”
Tonks beamed and embraced her mother tightly--it was good to see her in person and not through the pixelated confines of a computer screen. She pulled back and tilted her head, considering the question. Things weren’t great for virtually anyone except the Death Eaters right now, but Tonks tried to consider how she was doing within the parameters of what she could control.
“The world is definitely testing me, but otherwise, I’m doing pretty well, yeah” she said. “I mean, there is definitely some profound physical discomfort at times, but my spirits are up and strong, if a bit weepier than usual,” she smiled, “And how are you holding up?”
“Honestly?” Ted said. “I’m bored. I’m seeing a million places and it’s fun and interesting, but I’m a Healer at heart. I miss it. And I miss you, and Andromeda, and my bed. But I shouldn’t complain. I could be in Azkaban.”
She led the way to the kitchen, where Andromeda had thoughtfully bought caffeine free tea (for Dora, she had to assume) in addition to Ted’s preferred brand of Early Grey. Yep. She’d definitely missed home. “But I’m glad to hear you’re reasonably well. Remus as well, I assume?”
Tonks followed her into the kitchen, considering the weight of the truth behind that statement; she could be in Azkaban, and there were probably about a dozen people trying to make that happen...or worse. It was one of those thoughts Tonks tried not to dwell on; she had a lot of those lately, and if she was honest with herself, they were never too far below the surface.
“It’s rubbish,” Tonks said. “Not Remus,” she clarified, “But you not being a Healer anymore...and me not being an Auror,” she said, then scoffed, “the fact that they aren’t even any Aurors anymore, anyway,” Tonks added, taking a gloomy sip of the decaffeinated tea. “I don’t regret throwing my lot in with the Order, but it just really sucks to devote so much of your life to something and have it be gone all of a sudden,” she said, holding her mother’s gaze--she knew Ted understood this, better perhaps even than she did.
“But reasonably well, yes,” she reaffirmed, because it was true enough in the grand scheme of things--she had her family, and that was more than a lot of people could say. “Remus, too...we’re both pretty anxious,” she admitted. “For the normal reasons and the not so normal reasons related to the fact that, you know...several murderers kind of hate us and wish us nothing but ill,” she said, because honestly it would be kind of naive to leave out that obvious little tidbit. “But we’re happy with each other, and we’re excited about the baby, in spite of the rest of it.”
“It sucks,” Ted agreed. She’d never worked anywhere but St Mungos. She’d never even been unemployed. Until now. “I could do more to help you guys out, but I don’t know who to trust right now.”
She didn’t even tell her wife, or her closest friends her exact address anymore. They knew, generally speaking, but not exactly. Just to be safe. She hated being secretive like that, but what else was there to do? Getting caught wasn’t an option.
“It’s normal to be nervous,” she assured her daughter. “Especially given the circumstances. Having a child during wartime isn’t easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you and Remus.”
Tonks smiled broadly at that, “Thanks, Mum. I appreciate it,” she said, then considered her next question. She knew there was no way to be totally prepared, that parenthood was all about the unexpected. Still, she thought it might help to look back at her own life from a different perspective.
“What was the hardest thing you faced in raising me?” she asked.
“The war,” Ted said without hesitation. “Raising a child during war time, especially as a muggleborn, is…” terrifying “...frightening. You have to temper down your urge to run straight at danger, and fighting all battles, metaphorical and otherwise. Or maybe that’s just me.”
She shouldn’t do it, even now, but she did. Far too often. At least Dora was old enough to hold her own this time around. The thought wasn’t nearly as comforting as she’d expected. It just meant that the possibility of her being hurt was bigger. Especially as an Order member.
“Other than that…” She thought about it for a second. “Getting a child to eat foods you can’t stand yourself is really difficult. Even if you ended up liking most of them.”
It was pretty much the answer Tonks expected, but it served only to reaffirm the sheer difficulty of what she was up against. “You made it seem effortless, though, like shielding it from me,” she said. “I knew things were…tense, I think all kids can pick up on general feelings like that, but I didn’t really know what was going on when it was happening--it was more like when I was older and learning about that time that I looked back on certain things and they made more sense, but it’s not really what naturally stands out in my memory about being a kid.”
Tonks sighed, “I can only really hope that’s how this will work--that we’ll all be okay in the end and the kid will be young enough when it’s all over to not really remember any of it,” she said. Tonks bit on her lip, though, as she considered how old she was when it finally ended, “But I was eight when we thought it was all over the first time, and eight years still seems like a really, really long time.”
She smiled wanly at that, “Well, at least normal problems like that seem kind of easy in comparison.”
“We will be okay,” Ted said firmly. “We didn’t make it through the first round just to die now. That’s just not going to happen.” She believed that. Most of the time. “But I’m glad we managed to shield you from it enough. I hope we’ll be able to do the same with your baby.”
At that, Tonks reached across and pulled her mother into a tight embrace. She felt her throat constrict and eyes water suddenly; she hadn’t realized how deprived she felt of her mum until this moment when although she was here and she had her for the guidance and comfort she’d always been so good at, Tonks didn’t know how long it was going to last.
Letting out a sigh as she pulled back, Tonks wiped her eyes un-embarrassedly, since she was never really embarrassed with her parents, “Ugh, sorry. They’re not kidding about the amped up emotions, and I’m already emotional,” she said. “I just miss you. I hate that they’ve made it so you can’t be around, we should all be together for this.”
Ted hugged her daughter thoroughly, as was her way, and only reluctantly let her pull away. “I hate it too,” she said. “I never minded travelling for work, going to conferences and things like that, but now that I have to do it? Not nearly as fun.” Possibly because of the very real possibility of death. “I’ll keep coming back, though. I probably won’t be able to stay long, but I refuse to let them keep me from you permanently.”
Tonks wiped away some lingering tears and let herself believe that her mum really had the power to refuse something like that, as if she really was as powerful and indestructible as she’d seemed to Tonks as a child.
With a snort, Tonks pointed out, “They don’t exactly have their A-team out looking for you.” She was thinking of that grimy kid Willy who really seemed to think that asking direct relatives “where’s your mum” on the Winternet qualified as an investigation. “But, then again, their A-team was the Aurors and they fired and antagonized us all, so I guess untrained, galleon-hungry dregs are about the best they can do.”
It was a small comfort, considering those dregs were also desperate and probably at least a little bit crazy, which, if unpolished, was nonetheless a dangerous combination.
“Most of the Aurors left wouldn’t do it anyway,” Ted said, thinking about Gawain, wondering how he put up with the way things were. “So yes, I think it’s the best they can do, at this point. But let’s talk about happier things. The baby, for example.”
“They wouldn’t,” Tonks agreed, then smiled a bit, “Yes,” she agreed. “Did you know that buying adorable, teeny tiny baby things is seriously cathartic?” Tonks asked, as that was becoming a new favorite hobby of hers. Everything was so soothing about baby stuff with their tranquil patterns of baby animals and pastel colors...baby stores felt a world away from the Death Eaters. “It’s really exciting to think about an actual little person fitting into all of this stuff and meeting them.”
“That’s one of the best parts,” Ted agreed, although she’d missed Dora’s first years. She’d more than made up for it afterwards, though. “I’m going to collect something baby sized from every country I visit from now on. This is going to be such a well dressed baby, you have no idea.” She leaned over and gave her daughter an impulsive hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she said with a sigh. “For us.”