(Nymphadora Tonks)
"What happened, dear? You seem distracted," Mum asked gently.
I hadn't even noticed how obvious it was.
We were sitting around the small circular kitchen table, the one Dad had charmed years ago so it would never wobble no matter how uneven the floor got. The late evening light filtered through the lace curtains, casting soft golden patterns across the walls. The kettle had long since stopped steaming, but the faint scent of chamomile still lingered in the air.
I had my elbow propped on the table, cheek squashed against my palm, staring into the middle distance. My other hand kept lazily twirling a spoon inside my teacup.
Round and round.
Clink~
Clink~
Clink~
The sound was soft but constant.
Mum's voice cut through the fog in my head.
I blinked and glanced at her. "It's nothing, Mum. I'm just tired. Had to deal with a ton of paperwork today."
I tried to sound casual so as not to reveal anything.
Dad and Mum exchanged one of those looks, the ones parents think are subtle.
Dad lifted his teacup, peering at me over the rim. "You're holding the spoon upside down," he said mildly. "So I don't think it's just a bit of paperwork."
I frowned down at my hand.
Sure enough, I was gripping the bowl of the spoon while the handle knocked uselessly against the inside of the cup.
I stared at it for a second as if it had personally betrayed me.
"…Right."
I set it aside with a soft clatter and dragged a hand through my hair. It flickered from pink to a blotchy lavender before settling back again.
"Alright," I muttered. "It's Gilderoy."
Both of them stilled slightly.
"It turns out he was dating two other witches while he dated me. Can you believe it?" My voice rose despite my attempt to stay calm. "And he apparently wants me to join his harem or something. Who the hell does he think he is? Merlin?"
The word exploded out of me.
Dad calmly took a sip of tea.
"Well," he said after swallowing, far too thoughtfully for my liking, "according to the Prophet, he's been lauded as this generation's Merlin. And is soon to replace Dumbledore as the strongest wizard of the century."
I stared at him deadpan.
"Ugh!" I glowered. "Are you on my side or his?!"
Dad immediately raised both hands in surrender, tea sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his cup. "I'm just repeating what the papers say! Of course I'm on your side, sweetie."
Mum hadn't spoken yet.
She was watching me carefully, fingers loosely wrapped around her own cup, steam curling past her composed expression. There was something calculating in her gaze. Not unsympathetic.
Just… weighing.
"Well," she began slowly, "if what the papers say has any degree of truth, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for you, Nymphadora."
"Don't use that name!" I shouted on reflex, the word cracking like a whip in the small kitchen.
The overhead light flickered faintly.
"And do you hear yourself, Mum?" I demanded, pushing back slightly from the table. "Are you saying I should agree to share a man with two other witches just because he's a bit powerful?"
My hair flared bright red.
"I'm just saying," she replied evenly, unruffled as ever, "that if you won't do it, there will be countless others willing to take your place, dear. A man like that doesn't appear often. And you were getting along so well."
Her voice softened slightly.
"Moreover, it's not like he hid it from you. I honestly thought you knew already when you agreed to go on that date with him. It was all over the papers, after all."
That hit harder than I expected.
I opened my mouth to argue, to demand why she seemed to be taking Lockhart's side instead of mine, but the words tangled in my throat.
How could I have known the papers were telling the truth for once?!
Heat crept up my neck.
Dad shifted uncomfortably but didn't intervene.
I pushed my chair back abruptly. The legs scraped loudly against the floor.
"I can't believe this," I muttered.
My chest felt tight. Frustration, embarrassment, and anger, all swirling together in a nauseating mix.
Without trusting myself to say anything else, I turned and strode toward the door. My boots thudded against the wooden floorboards. I yanked it open harder than necessary and stepped outside into the cool evening air.
The door shut behind me with a loud thump that rattled the frame.
"Come back to visit soon, dear!" Mum called after me, her voice perfectly pleasant.
That did it.
I marched down the garden path, gravel crunching violently under my boots, and once I was far enough from the house, I threw my head back and released a furious scream.
It tore out of me raw and wordless, scattering a flock of startled birds from the nearby hedges.
My hair flashed scarlet.
"Stupid, arrogant, infuriating!" I cut myself off with another frustrated noise and kicked a loose pebble clear across the path.
The night air was sharp against my heated skin. The sky above was deep blue, stars just beginning to emerge.
I folded my arms tightly over my chest.
Why did this have to be so complicated?
Why did he have to be so… him?
And why, Merlin help me, did some treacherous part of me still want to rewind right back to that courtroom and demand he explain himself with that stupidly charming smile?
I let out a long, shaky breath.
"I am not joining anyone's harem," I muttered to the empty street.
Even if my heart clearly hadn't received the message yet.
…
(Andromeda Tonks)
"Maybe we should have been more supportive of her," Ted said quietly.
The front door had long since stopped rattling from Nymphadora's dramatic exit, but the echo of it still lingered in the kitchen. The house felt slightly emptier without her presence, like a candle had been abruptly snuffed out.
Ted stared into his teacup as though it might offer answers.
I set my own cup down with deliberate care, porcelain clicking softly against the saucer.
"And risk her actually joining Lockhart's harem?" I replied evenly.
Ted glanced up at me, worry etched into the lines around his eyes.
"You know how our daughter is," I continued. "She has inherited more Black stubbornness than she realizes. If we had outright forbidden it, she would have marched straight back to him out of pure defiance."
I folded my hands together on the table, fingers interlacing neatly.
"And even if I was disinherited," I added, my voice cooling slightly, "I am still a daughter of House Black. And no daughter of mine will be sharing her man with other women. No matter how powerful he is."
The words came out firmer than I intended.
Some things ran deeper than rebellion.
Ted sighed softly, leaning back in his chair. The wood creaked under his weight. "I just want her to be happy."
The simplicity of it made my chest tighten.
"And even if I don't like the idea," he continued, "the past few weeks were the happiest I've seen her in years. She was glowing, Andromeda. Laughing at nothing. Humming in the mornings." His mouth twitched faintly at the memory. "Now that she isn't with Gilderoy, she looks so miserable."
My gaze drifted toward the darkened doorway where she had stood moments ago, eyes blazing, hair flashing scarlet with emotion.
Miserable.
Yes.
I had seen it too.
My expression softened despite myself.
This, this gentle heart of his, was why I had chosen Ted all those years ago. Why I had walked away from ancestral portraits that sneered and bloodlines that suffocated.
If I had followed my family's arrangements, I would never have known what love felt like.
I would have been paraded at galas. Assessed like livestock. Bound to some pureblood supremacist with cold hands and colder expectations.
Just like my sisters.
Bellatrix, consumed by fanaticism. And Narcissa…
Well, Cissy seems happy enough with Malfoy…
I shook my head slightly and cleared my throat, straightening my posture.
Appearances were not the same as happiness. I knew that better than most.
"Nymphadora is strong," I said at last, reclaiming my composure. "She will sulk for some time. She will rage. Possibly hex a few inanimate objects, maybe a few workmates..." A faint sigh escaped me. "But she will eventually get over him and find someone else."
Someone who did not divide his affections like political territories.
Someone who would choose her fully.
Ted studied me for a moment, as though trying to determine whether I believed my own words.
"I hope you're right," he said quietly.
So do I.
I reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. His fingers were warm, familiar, steady.
Outside, the night had fully settled over the garden. A faint breeze rustled the hedges where our daughter had undoubtedly unleashed her fury moments ago.
"She has our blood," I said softly. "And our example."
Ted smiled faintly at that.
Yes.
Whatever storm she was weathering, she would survive it.
After all, she is our daughter.
…