ᴀɴᴅʀᴏᴍᴇᴅᴀ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴘᴄᴀᴋᴇ ǫᴜᴇᴇɴ (cepheis) wrote in flippedrpg, @ 2012-03-21 04:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, ch: nia: andromeda black, ch: nia: ted tonks, p: kristy, p: trish |
WHO: Andromeda Black, Ted Tonks
WHAT: A reunion of sorts.
WHEN: Monday, March 19.
RATING/STATUS: PG. Complete.
Andromeda was an unusually steady sort of woman most of the time. What panicked most was but a small glimmer in her eyes; she was, after all, the daughter of Blacks and the mother of a Metamorphmagus. She had grown up seeing the worst of the world, and her daughter had brought light back to it, but with it came a rainbow-tinged hue. But even she, ever-calm and patient, had not anticipated the events of this day. The one where she would be, somehow, dragged several hundreds of miles, and a few thousand years, away from her home. It was absolutely beyond her wildest dreams. She had been, after all, on her way to the bank when it happened. She had just stepped through the doorway of her vault, an armful of gold and family trinkets, when she felt light-headed and sick. As Andromeda hit the floor and came up again, she was in an entirely new place. One full of impatient doctors and bustling nurses, and people who no interest in answering her questions. She had thought, for a moment, to be lost in some part of the bank. It was after all one of the oldest wizarding institutions in Britain; a sharp-tongued assistant quickly cleared up this confusion, and then she was pushed into the hall with a journal and some keys. That was it. Welcome to the Compound, and good luck. Andromeda had so far kept to herself. A cursory glance at the journals had revealed a strange, confusing world, one full of clones and other oddities she hadn’t thought possible. And it had been with this in mind that she had abandoned good sense and uncapped her own pen (not a quill, she noted, which was strange all on its own). She had written a quick, and unhappy warning to her daughter, who she hoped was not so far behind. It made her blood cold to think the young girl, barely six, might be expecting her home soon. Wherever and whatever home. If she didn’t join her soon, Andromeda sorely hoped that Nymphadora had the sense to go to her grand-parents’ house down the street. They would look after her, at least, that much she knew. The knot in Andromeda’s stomach grew as she descended the staircase. Unfamiliar faces passed her in the halls, but she kept her head down. The floor swayed beneath her sandal-clad feet, reminding her of her presence on the ocean’s surface. She had never been one for sea, really, and every time the ship shifted it made her want to vomit. By the time she reached the cafeteria her face was on fire, and her heart beat so rapidly against her chest she surely thought she might never breathe again. Fortunately, good sense kicked in and she was able to inhale, and exhale again, and once more after that, until she was satisfied that she wasn’t about to expire where she stood. Andromeda swallowed the lump in her throat, and glanced out across the cafeteria. Ted. Her Ted was supposed to be here, but that was impossible. And she wouldn’t be convinced until she saw him with her very own eyes. Nothing had ever been particularly easy for Ted Tonks and Andromeda Black, that much was certain. It was usually due entirely to the world from which she came, one that had no place for someone like him. Truthfully, someone like him had always seemed a terribly ridiculous idea, he thought. Simply because his parents weren’t magical, he was less of a person? It was rubbish, he felt. But he would’ve put up with anything in the world for Andy. Above it all, though, the hardest thing had always been hiding how much he loved her so that they wouldn’t be caught. He could handle the names and the death threats, to be honest. But lying about something that so clearly defined his life was painful. He knew it was important, though. He’d have never wanted to jeopardize Andromeda in any way, and he knew that her people weren’t the most forgiving sort. He’d been napping after a long day at work at the Daily Prophet. Andy was still ill and staying with her family, which made being at home terribly dull and anxious, so he’d started working longer hours and going straight to bed when he got home. This day hadn’t been any different. The next, however, most certainly had. He’d awoken in a strange place surrounded by unfamiliar people, only to soon discover that the oddities didn’t end there. None of it had mattered as soon as he’d seen Andy’s writing, though his confusion had grown ten-fold at the course of the exchange. By the end of it, he really didn’t know who he was in relation to this Andromeda, but he’d done as she’d asked. He was seated at a table near a window, reading through the book as he waited for her. And finally she spotted him. It was enough to bring tears instantly to her eyes, blurring her vision in a most unbecoming, embarrassingly frank way. She didn't like to appear weak, to let herself go in public, but already she felt the heavy weight of sorrow on her chest. Her eyes began to itch. Her tongue felt heavy. There he was, an angelic sight of blonde hair and eternal thoughtfulness, just as beautiful as the day she had last saw him. Which, considering his clothing, seemed to be where he was from. She swallowed hard. If this time travel nonsense were true, and she was beginning to realise that it was, it was possible he was from a point right before his death. Right before Bellatrix burst upon his flat and murdered him. Somehow, and she didn't really know how, Andromeda's feet seemed to move before her mind could keep up. She was walking, a jerky and unsteady rhythm, both of her hands clasped before her so tight they seemed ready to snap. Her fingertips fiddled with her engagement ring, the one given to her by Nymphadora through Ted's parents, and she was filled at once with the desire to turn and flee. This was too much, too real. But she couldn't stop herself until she was right beside him, and her left hand was reaching out to touch his shoulder, a tap that was far harder than she anticipated. Andromeda recoiled, instantly, as if burned, her face twisting in slight despair. Before she could stop it, tears began to fall, and she barely choked out a small Ted before falling to her knees at his table. This was all just too much! There were so many mentions of multiples and worlds and things that simply didn’t make sense. However, it was obvious that this was real, nonsensical or not. Somehow, the reality was that they’d all been brought here from a variety of different times and worlds and places. And he didn’t quite know what to make of that, Ravenclaw or not. He was also still incredibly baffled by Andy’s mention of a daughter, something that made him confused by her sudden change of heart and decision that he must be her version of… himself. (A strange though, to be only a version of yourself. So far, though, he’d not seen any other handwriting that was familiar for being his own. That was relieving, as there was already so much to take in.) At the tap, he jumped, having not expected it when it came. He turned ready to greet Andromeda with a smile, but it fell quickly at the sight of the expression she wore, the tears in her eyes, and the way she fell at his side. He moved quickly, dropping the book and turning towards her, taking her hands, concern in his expression. “Love, are you okay?” The floor felt cold and unforgiving beneath her knees, and the world spun much harder than the ocean ever could. She could feel sick rise in her throat and she had to swallow it down, unwilling and faintly green at the cheeks, before she moved to rest her face against the press of his jean-clad leg. It was too much, indeed. The last time she had seen Ted had been six years ago. Six long, stressful years. She had raised their daughter. She had seen in Nymphadora, every day, the bits of Ted that she had loved so much. The bits of him she had thought she would never know again. She closed her eyes and willed herself to be anywhere but here. She wanted to be at home, in her bed. She wanted to be by the fire with Nymphadora in her lap. She wanted... well, she wanted so many things, but Andromeda Black knew that she was a girl ungifted by the gods in terms of karmic justice. She only had what she personally worked for, nothing more and nothing less. The soft hush of Ted's voice brought her rocketing back to earth, and she opened her eyes at last. Still on the floor, her hands shaking madly in his firm grasp, she looked up at her fiance with tears in her grey eyes, her lip trembling. 'Ted,' she murmured, hoarsely, disbelieving. It was impossible. He was here. He was beautiful, and young, and perfect. Like a butterfly encased in resin. She felt old and worn compared to him. 'It's you,' she whispered, 'I mean, it's really you. I didn't... how? They took you away from me, and now you're here. Is this heaven?' Ted shifted a hand from one of hers to curl comfortingly in her hair as she pressed her face against his leg, unsure of how to respond given that he didn’t entirely know what had prompted such an outpouring of emotion. It had certainly been a while since they’d seen each other, but only a few weeks. Andy looked at him as though he were a ghost, as though she’d not seen him in – and then it struck him. She’d said in the journal that her Ted had died six years ago. And she did look a bit older than he recalled, a bit more worn. Still perfectly beautiful, but not quite the same youthful Andy he remembered. If the time travel theory was true, as it seemed to be, and he was her Ted after all, then that meant that he’d died. It explained why she looked at him the way that she did and was responding so emotionally. He’d died six years ago in her point in time. He slipped from his chair to join her on the floor, a smile on his face in spite of this revelation. “It’s me, Andy. I promise,” he said. “I don’t know what happened to me six years ago, but I come from before it. I’m alive.” Andromeda felt like a bit of a fool. She never lost her composure for long, and she sucked back the snotty tears as they fell, rubbing the wetness from her eyes as quickly as it slid down her cheeks. She felt embarrassed, and she knew they were drawing looks, but it was so very hard not to fall apart right now. To her, Ted was a ghost. A once-ago, a could-have-been. A lone sob escaped her throat and it was strangled, desperate. Her hold on Ted's leg grew stronger, slightly possessive, as if she expected him to evaporate in a cloud of smoke at any minute. Andromeda bit her lip until the copper tang touched her taste-buds, and she cringed, surprised once more to see Ted in front of her when her eyes opened again. It wasn't impossible, it defied reality. Even a time turner couldn't bring back the dead. Once people were gone, that was it. Or they became inferi, cursed half-dead men who wandered the earth as useless vessels for ne'er-do-well magic. Ted, though. Ted was alive. Ted was full of spirit and energy and he was warm, impossibly warm, and Andromeda wanted to die. And she wanted to laugh, too, in a most delirious sort of way. Her love, returned from the grave. It was like a joke, the worst kind, but as she held even tighter and even longer he wasn't going anywhere. For the first time in six years, the frosted film about her heart began to melt, her emotions stirring warily in her chest. Perhaps, at last, she had hit a bit of luck. 'I know,' Andromeda said, simply, and took his face in both her hands. Her own was radiant with sorrow and happiness and tears, and she was a mess, but she smiled now, too. And she laughed at last, disbelief and delight joining at one another's hip. She cradled his cheeks and kissed them, again and again, feverish and happy. Her teeth shone like pearls when she grinned now, and she shook her head, kissing him again. 'I know. You're alive. You're alive. You've come back to me. They couldn't keep us apart forever, could they?' As soon as her distraught expression shifted to that delirious joy, Ted knew that they would be okay. They’d overcome so much already in his own timeline, and even more in hers, and he was confident that this random bit of odd magic, whatever had brought them here, was a bit of good luck. They had no future in the real world, that much was clear. Here, they had that opportunity, and Ted most certainly wouldn’t allow it to slip away. He held Andromeda close as she settled closer, his arms circling her waist and pulling her to him. He smiled as well, returning the excessive delight as freely as it was given. She was beautiful, even more so as she smiled, and he returned the kisses happily. “Of course not, my love,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her nose. “We have too much to live for between us, after all.” He found he didn’t really want to know the details of his death yet, instead preferring to focus on the present. Andromeda laughed, and then she cried, and then she laughed a little more. It was too much to even think about right now, and yet she knew that he was right. That, somehow, they shared the same thought. Something had brought them together now, something had finally given then the spot of good luck they needed to be reunited once more. They had a chance to be happy, to be free of the prejudices that had ripped them apart. And when Ted scooped her up as he did, she returned the gesture, her arms winding so tight about his neck that it was a wonder he didn't pop like champagne. Her kisses grew slower, and slightly more sensuous, but the desperation to be close to him remained. She didn't even shift her weight barely as they rose back to the table, and she was all but atop of him, laughing as their brows touched and their breath mingled in the sparse air between them. 'You are so beautiful,' she murmured, happily, against his soft lips. If this were a dream, she thought, let it last forever. The peck to her nose made her laugh, and her eyes crinkled at their edges. Oh, he was perfect, and he was here, and he was her's at last. 'I'll never let you out of my sight again,' she added, declaring it as fact, but then her smile wavered for just a moment. 'There's something else we need... to talk about, darling.' She chewed her lip and pulled away just a bit, frowning. Sorrow hit her again. Had she traded Nymphadora for Ted? She didn't want to think like that, but couldn't help it. And she knew, in that moment, it was one she was unwilling to make. She loved Ted, but her daughter was her world, and she knew he would’ve agreed just as readily that hers’ was the most important life of the three of them. 'We have a... there's a little girl. She's yours.' He grinned as she settled on top of him back in the chair, holding her close and laughing with her. He hadn’t had to go without her, to be sure, but that didn’t make this reunion any less sweet, and due in large part to the fact that they no longer had to hide. All of the pent-up affection that he’d been dying to lay upon her in public, to show the world that she’d chosen him, that he was the lucky one who caught her eye… he could show that now. And he certainly had no intentions of restraining, Black family be damned. “You are more beautiful,” he countered, returning the kisses happily. “Don’t. I’m hopeless without you.” When she continued, he looked at her curiously, wondering what she could possibly need to tell him that seemed so important. He nodded. “Alright, love. What is it?” he asked, holding her a bit tighter to support whatever it was, to let her know that he was willing to hear it. At the words, he blinked. “I’d been meaning to ask about that, yeah,” he said, a little dazed. “I have a daughter?” Andromeda hadn't even considered that until this very moment. That, for the first time in their loves, they were able to finally show their intense devotion to one another to the world. It made her heart rise and fall, a steady swell, and she felt as if her cheekbones would crack if she grinned any wider. She peppered him again and again with kisses, and held him tight, running her hands about his face and through his hair. His perfect hair, blonde and wonderful, that Nymphadora had been born with and changed three seconds later to its current milky-brown. And his perfect blue eyes, and wonderful nose, and it occurred to her just now how much Nymphadora had inherited from him. It stung a little, even in her delight, to know how much she had forgotten in six years. Like the way his hair curled just-so over a brow when it was too long, as it was now, or the way he grinned. Her heart fluttered uselessly against her ribs, and she rested her head on his shoulder to stop the world's unsteady twirl. 'Impossible!' Andromeda laughed, shaking her head. 'You are? Six years, my sweetheart, I've been wandering through this world without eyes. You are my spirit, and I've missed you every day.' When he held her tighter, Andromeda felt content. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe. She knew that if Bellatrx herself walked into this cafeteria at any moment that they would defend each other, and they would survive. They would survive because they knew what it was to be apart, and they had so much to live for. His words drew a slight grin from her, amused at his confusion, and she leaned back at last to observe him properly. One leg was slung on either side of his knees, her arms about his shoulders. 'It's a very long story,' she admitted, smiling. 'But when I was sick? Remember, I could hardly keep anything down? The healer came, and Druella made sure I was tested. They thought it was the flu. But it wasn't. It was her. Our little girl. Our Nymphadora.' She looked to the side, staring into the distance, thoughtfulness in her expression. ‘She’s only six, but you would think she were a hundred. She’s so wonderful, and smart, just like you. Sharp as a whip. Even when Sirius tries to feed her dirt, or chuck lizards in her dress. And your mum and dad love her to pieces.’ Having Andromeda was truly a perfect enough world for Ted, but a little girl as well? He was sure he certainly did deserve such amazing fortune. Ted had always wanted to be a father, a response to the fact that his own parents were so wonderful. He’d always been terribly close to each of them, and that alone had helped instill a tremendous desire within him to have that sort of connection with a beautiful little darling of his own. A little girl, though? That was beyond anything he could’ve ever imagined. He held Andy closer, burying his face into his shoulder a moment to collect himself before a bit of that same delirious laughter she’d expressed burst from him. “A little girl named Nymphadora. That’s bloody perfect, Andy. You’re perfect. I’m sure she’s perfect, too,” he said, grinning and kissing her. “Six years old. I can’t even wrap my mind around that.” It was heartbreaking to know that his little girl had grown up without him, but he set that aside for now. “I bet she’s the most beautiful thing, just like her mama.” Trust Ted to always look on the brighter side of things; he was the dawn after her dark, certainly. Where she saw sorrow, he managed to see delight. He was wonderful, and Andromeda could scarcely believe her luck even now in having him back again. She had to agree, though; his parents were saints in every respect. They had taken her in, they had loved Nymphadora as their own, and they had somehow made a family from the sorrowful rubble Ted's death had left behind. Andromeda ran her hands through his hair again and smiled so fondly, so warm, that she felt sure to catch alight. Only Ted could inspire in her this sense of happiness, this desire. And she had him back. 'You like it?' Andromeda asked, at last, shyly. Sirius had balked at the name. The Tonkses had been confused. But it had seemed so perfect to her, especially at the time, with the little sprite in her crib so clean and new who just seemed to click with it. Andromeda kissed his lips again and giggled, a gentle titter. 'You have no idea. And she's mischievous as all getout, and twice as clumsy. Just like I remember you used to be.' She nudged his side playfully. Andromeda knew full well the ramifications of his death. She didn't dwell on them now, but instead bumped their foreheads together, smiling. 'She looks more like you than me, I think. She has your nature. There's hardly a trace of Black in her, and for that I'm grateful. But she's so special, Ted. You have no idea.' She took his hand in her own and kissed his palm, lips curved in their tender way, before closing her fingers about it. 'She's a metamorphmagus. She can be anything she wants to be, literally. Scared me half to death when I had a baby with a duck bill, let me tell you.’ Andromeda’s shy question made Ted unable to resist pressing a kiss to her pretty lips again, a smile on his. “How could I not?” he responded, grinning. “You wouldn’t have given her a name that didn’t fit, and I like what you like. I’m not sure that I’d be able to call her it constantly, to be honest. It’s a bit of a mouthful.” He brushed his nose against her jaw. “But it’s a beautiful mouthful.” He laughed at her words, shaking his head. “The poor, perfect darling. I can’t believe I passed that on, of all things!” He had his fair share of positive qualities, but it would certainly have been that damned clumsiness that passed itself on with a vengeance. “Mm, the Blacks in general might not be the most pleasant of people, but you are perfect and wonderful. I bet she has more of you in her than you realize. I certainly hope so, anyway,” he responded, smiling at her gentle actions. At the next words, his expression turned a bit curious, not terribly familiar with the term beyond a cursory knowledge that it was something that existed. “She can change her appearance?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “How bloody brilliant! Where did she get that from?” Andromeda's lips curved as he kissed them, and she smiled so sweetly that she was sure she might never be sad again. Not with Ted back, not with her light on the horizon. 'You're awful kind, Ted,' Andromeda admitted, grinning. She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers. 'She's the most beautiful thing. Sometimes, she prefers Dora over anything else, so I'm sure she won't mind that.' Andromeda, personally, never called her daughter that. She named her Nymphadora for a reason, after all. She laughed as well. She laughed so much that it made her feel light-headed, happy, and almost rather sick. She kissed his forehead and stroked his hair again. 'You're telling me. She got into your mother's antique crystal last week, and broke about seven wine goblets. I thought her ears were going to whistle like a kettle.' Her smile faded, but retained its amused quality. 'I offered to fix them, but they're still a bit iffy about the magic thing. They've been amazing to us, so amazing. I wish they were here to see you, too.' 'Regulus and Sirius both stay with me, sometimes. We aren't all bad,' Andromeda murmured, affectionately. She nodded. 'She can become anything she likes. It's completely... well, she didn't get it from me!' Andromeda pinched his nose again and laughed. 'I thought it came from you, honestly. There are no extraordinary people in my family.' “Why, thank you, Miss Black. I do try,” he responded, grinning. Ted leaned against her touch, listening to her explanation of their daughter -- their daughter -- as it was given. He wanted to know everything, to try to catch up on what he missed. Hopefully, their little girl would show up and he could get the opportunity to meet her himself. “Of course she is. She’s half you.” At the story, he winced a bit, knowing fully well how his mother had reacted. “That certainly sounds a bit like me. There were half a dozen more goblets when I was a child.” He wished that his parents were here as well, particularly as they had experienced his death like Andy. He knew that wasn’t terribly likely, though. Everyone he’d seen thus far had been magical, after all. “Is that something that can be passed along through non-magical families, though? I can’t imagine a bunch of muggles reacting to the sudden ability to change appearance, you know,” he shrugged then. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m sure she’s absolutely perfect.” Andromeda's own expression was sympathetic, but fond. 'Oh, she said the exact same thing when we were trying to laugh it off. I'm just glad Nymphadora didn't wind up hurt; I went back to school, you know.' She curled a lock of his hair about her fingers, and kissed him again, unable to even think of parting from him for even a moment. 'For healing. I'm an accredited doctor, of sorts, now. I do pediatric medicine.' In many ways, seeing Ted now was like meeting a new friend. Meeting someone she'd never known before today. And yet in others, it was as if they'd never been apart. She was determined to make sure they never would be again. 'I don't know,' Andromeda admitted, and then she nodded. 'Of course she is. She's yours. She's beautiful, and wonderful, and I hope that she joins us soon. You'll adore her to pieces, I swear.' And then Andromeda turned her chin upwards, and her smile adopted a coy yet subdued quality, her pink lips curling at their edges. Six, almost seven years, apart. She had missed him in every way. She took both of his hands in hers now, curing their fingers together like little jigsaw pieces, and lowered her lashes just a little. 'Might we...' Andromeda paused, smile twitching. 'Retire to our room? We have a lot to make up for, I think.’ Ted grinned, so very proud of her news. “Of course you are, you brilliant thing! I don’t doubt that for a second,” he said. He may have been the Ravenclaw, but he believed wholeheartedly that Andromeda had always been the smart one of the pair of them. He simply went along for the ride with stars in his eyes. “I hope she does too, love. More than anything. I’d love to meet her,” he said, squeezing her hands as she took his. He pressed their foreheads together, pressing a kiss to her lips at the question. “That’s a perfect idea, my love. We certainly shall.” |