i will catch you

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I don't know where this road is going to lead me

Andromeda’s internal prediction, that Ted would more than likely be going out to do something relatively silly dealing with the war sometime soon, was probably an accurate one, though of course Ted couldn’t read her thoughts and thus he had no knowledge of the observation. All he was aware of was the fact that his wife was smiling again, and there was really no substitute for how happy that knowledge made him. They honestly didn’t have all that much reason to smile lately, and as saddening as that reality was, in a way it made every smile that they did share all the more precious.

It wasn’t that Ted was stupid, or that he was one of those people who just continually made the same mistake over and over again just because he couldn’t figure things out, but… he did tend to make mistakes. Sometimes he just found himself in bad situations. In a way it had been the same way at Hogwarts - throughout his life, really. It was just that, at home and as a child, the bad situations he’d wound up in there weren’t nearly as dangerous. But he’d more than once ended up getting hexed (sometimes even to a bloody pulp, which had happened two or three times) in a dark corridor because he’d arranged a late study session with a fellow student. He’d walked right into an abandoned classroom full of young Death Eaters because he’d genuinely thought he’d heard someone in trouble. He’d gotten lost in Knockturn Alley and almost ended up dead (he’d never told Andromeda about that part, anyway) because he was trying to find some potion supplies for one of Andromeda’s more complicated home remedies. And, most recently, he’d ended up in the middle of a riot because he’d tried to show his support for werewolf rights and, indirectly, his daughter. Ted was just that kind of person. Even if it made him akin to a damsel in distress, he always had Andromeda there to pull him out of trouble. It was just the way of things.

At the topic of Dora, and Andie’s answer to his comment, Ted let out a quiet sigh and kissed his wife’s forehead. ”I know, but… she’s a young woman now, Dromeda, there isn’t much we can do about that. There are some things that little ones are scared to tell their parents, it’s just the way of things, no matter the constant result. You’re a good mother, don’t let this whole thing make you think differently, alright?” Admittedly, it was a rotten piece of luck, he had to admit, that their only daughter had somehow ended up a werewolf, on top of being a member of the Order and an Auror in the thick of the fighting. The fact that she’d fallen for Remus… well… he understood as well as Andromeda did that neither of them had the right to criticize her about who she fell in love with, for obvious reasons.

”A hippogriff, eh?” Ted had no fondness for any magical creature, so the thought actually made him shudder a little bit as he thought about it. ”Well, even if they didn’t get the message, doesn’t make it any less true.”

Feeling Androemeda’s eyes on his face, Ted went a little red and looked down. He wasn’t exactly the kind of bloke who was easily swayed to think about his insecurities, nor was he the sort of person who was insecure all the time. But there was no helping that nagging little thought, the nagging idea, that he wasn’t good enough. Andromeda was honestly, the way Ted saw it, the perfect woman, or at least as close to perfection as one could get, and he was… well, he was just him. There wasn’t anything special about him - he wasn’t overly intelligent or brave or fierce or even skilled. But somehow she’d chosen him. And to this day he didn’t completely understand why. ”Alright,” he said, his voice a slight grumble. ”Just… checking, s’all, I s’pose.” Like he did what felt like every day since she’d been disowned and had come to his Common Room and had cried for hours in his arms.

His automatic reaction to her laugh was a mischievous grin. ”I know. Planned it out that way, of course,” he replied with a mock air of pride in his own accomplishment, like getting a wife with the healing abilities was something that he’d done all by himself.

”I behave,” Ted protested feebly. ”Sometimes.” He naturally added that on as an afterthought. Ted had a weakness for sitting still, as in he wasn’t able to do it very often unless he had a book in his hands or he was otherwise preoccupied. When he was hurt, or he was getting tended to, it was often even worse. He squirmed and twitched, often unable to resist flinching or wincing when he felt a spike of pain. ”You should have seen me today at St. Mungo’s while that poor Junior Healer was trying to help me. I was the perfect picture of good behavior.”

”Andromeda Tonks, are you speechless?” Ted asked with a boisterous laugh. He too knew that it was very rare to render his normally talkative and open wife into silence. ”Blushing and speechless. I think it’s my lucky day.”

He snorted. ”I’m always fishing for compliments, surely you know that after twenty-four years of marriage.” He tried to sound scandalized, especially at the for a Hufflepuff comment. Ted had always been proud of his house, but then again he had always been proud of the fact that he was a wizard to begin with, coming from a relatively large family completely composed of Muggles. And he laughed at the stubborn comment. ”Oi, I try to not be as stubborn when it comes to you, love, you ought to feel honored.” He grinned and turned his head to kiss his wife’s hair as she rested her head on his shoulder.

”Shh, don’t take that as a challenge. I’m going to be terrified for my life now that you’re going to try and sabotage everything in the kitchen,” Ted said, completely joking, of course, but with a tiny hint of serious fear to his voice. He’d grown up in a household of five children, most of which were boys, which meant that while Ted was used to being heartily fed, he was also used to oftentimes having his food stolen or ruined for the sake of friendly sibling competition. Of course he knew that she was just making an empty threat, but one could never be too careful. Especially when it came to food.

As she commented that she might just need to find some more hobbies, Ted frowned slightly. He did hate that his job often called him to be away from his wife so often, but then again that was really what a job was. Andromeda wasn’t the only one who missed her spouse when he was at work or otherwise occupied. ”I’ll try and get shorter and more normal shifts,” he said resolutely, despite her answer. ”And maybe try and find you more books the next time I’m in Diagon Alley. We’ll see what we can do.” Or, rather, Ted was going to see what he could do at the very least.

”It is without a shirt,” he replied playfully, but cheerfully buried his face into his wife’s neck and kissed it. ”Good, ‘cause for once you don’t have a choice.” Ted tightened his arms around her waist as if to emphasize that fact, but if she wanted to break away from him she easily could. Because despite his words, Andie always had a choice with him. On the contrary, while Andromeda wasn’t used to physical touch, that had all Ted had grown up with. Sure, wrestling and headlocks were another class entirely from hugs and cuddling and kisses, but Ted also had a loving mother and a younger sister. And over the years, of course, he’d grown to know exactly how to comfortably hold his wife and keep her close. It was just one of the many perks of having been married for so long.

But I'm hoping that with you I can make it through

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Andie couldn’t help but study her husband’s face, marveling over the differences between them. Ted was, for all intents and purposes, the anchor in Andromeda’s life. She had no idea where she would have been without him, because by entering her life, he had changed it. Ted might have been getting himself into trouble by putting himself in situations he shouldn’t, but Andie was thankful for it, as much as it exasperated her, because it reminded her of why she loved him. Had Ted never entered her life, she would have been on the other side of the lines, fighting for blood supremacy without ever even considering what it really meant. Until Ted had come along, Andie had never questioned what it was about “mudbloods” that made them inferior- or why she supported the notion so blindly. Looking at her husband now, beat up from the riot, Andie knew without a doubt he was a better wizard- and person- than she could ever hope to be. Ted might have thought he got the better end of the deal in their relationship, but Andie was proud of her husband and knew that he was by far the bigger catch.


”I know, but… she’s a young woman now, Dromeda, there isn’t much we can do about that. There are some things that little ones are scared to tell their parents, it’s just the way of things, no matter the constant result. You’re a good mother, don’t let this whole thing make you think differently, alright?”



Andie gave him a small nod, but they both knew it was more for his benefit than because she actually felt like it was the truth. Her relationship with Ted had done wonders for turning her from an ice queen to an open, somewhat goofy woman, but Andie was still taken to brooding- particularly when it came to her family. If Ted had problems feeling inadequate for her, it was nothing to how Andromeda herself felt. She had been raised in such a rigid, meticulously planned background, that at times she felt like she was trying hard to perform an act in order to fit in with him- and the role of mother was perhaps the one she was least prepared for. Andromeda had been the odd one out since birth, and the least likely recipient of her mother’s affections, and as such, there were moments with her own daughter that she felt like she was trying so terribly hard to overcompensate that Dora found her a bit… desperate. At times, Andie wondered if she and her daughter were even speaking the same language, there was so little communication. “She seems so angry with me, half the time. I’m not… perfect… but I wish I just knew what I’ve done.”



”A hippogriff, eh? Well, even if they didn’t get the message, doesn’t make it any less true.”



Andie rolled her eyes, steepling her fingers against her lips as she thought for a moment how to explain it to him. “I’m not a Black anymore.” She said evenly. “As far as they’re concerned, scorching my name from the family tree makes me a completely illegitimate person- I’m no more related to them than you are, in their eyes.” Her voice was soft but matter-of-fact. She had made her peace with being disowned long ago, it no longer bothered her other than a curiosity about the welfare of her sisters. “I’m nothing to them, Ted. Not anymore.” Not that she had been much to begin with- she had been too free spirited, too prone to trouble for her parents.



”Alright. Just… checking, s’all, I s’pose.”



“You’re being ridiculous,” Andie chided bluntly, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing his hands. “You are my family now, Ted. I chose you. I think we both know that I wouldn’t have stayed around for twenty-four years if I didn’t want to be here.” There was one thing he would have to admit, even if he didn’t understand her reasoning- no one made Andie do a thing she didn’t want to do. Whatever was keeping her there with him, it was something she wanted to do.



”I know. Planned it out that way, of course,”



“Of course,” she smirked. “I knew your eyes lit up the moment I said I wanted to be a healer. You started treating me differently.” She stuck her tongue out at him playfully, knowing that wasn’t what had really happened. She and Ted had been dating for a long while before she had ever admitted out loud that she wanted to be a healer, a profession her mother had thought to be a waste of time for her middle daughter.



”I behave. Sometimes.”



Andie raised a brow, not even bothering with a response.



”You should have seen me today at St. Mungo’s while that poor Junior Healer was trying to help me. I was the perfect picture of good behavior.”



“I somehow think that wasn’t the case,” she laughed softly, tracing a finger affectionately down his cheek. Ted had always been fidgety, something that had originally annoyed the hell out of her, but that she’d come to accept as one of his quirks over the years. Now, she barely gave it thought. “You should offer the poor lad a promotion, just for having the patience not to hex you.” She winked.



”Andromeda Tonks, are you speechless?”



Of course, at his laughter, her blush deepened and she gave him a sullen glare.



”Blushing and speechless. I think it’s my lucky day.”



“I am not,” she responded, clearly lying.



”I’m always fishing for compliments, surely you know that after twenty-four years of marriage.”



Andie laughed, aware the he knew she was joking. She had always playfully knocked at his house in school just to rile him up, but when it came down to it, the Hufflepuffs had been a lot nicer to her when everything had come to a head than her own house had. There was no true animosity behind Andie’s words. “You’re so vain, love. Not everything is about you. Sometimes it’s about me.”



”Oi, I try to not be as stubborn when it comes to you, love, you ought to feel honored.”



She smiled as she felt his lips against her hair, snuggling closer to him. She loved being close to Ted, to feel his warmth and smell the familiar scent of him, all of it making her think of home and safety. She had read somewhere about certain animals taking mates for life, how they would stay by their other half no matter what had happened. After twenty-six years of being by Ted’s side, Andie knew that there wasn’t anywhere else in the world for her. “If that’s the case,” she joked, “I’d hate to see what you do to others.”



”Shh, don’t take that as a challenge. I’m going to be terrified for my life now that you’re going to try and sabotage everything in the kitchen,”



“You know I won’t,” she grinned. “But the look on your face right now might make it worth it…”



”I’ll try and get shorter and more normal shifts. And maybe try and find you more books the next time I’m in Diagon Alley. We’ll see what we can do.”



She looked guilty as she looked up at him, but she couldn’t figure out why, exactly. Andie had never been someone that would admit they needed someone- even though they had been married for quite a while, Andie could count on one hand the number of times that she said, exactly, that she needed him: when she had lost her family because of her choice, and when she had gone into labor with their daughter. While it didn’t mean that she didn’t need him the rest of the time, it wasn’t in Andie to say the words, no matter how true. It had taken quite a while to get her used to saying “I love you,” despite it being obvious by the looks she gave him. In fact, she still didn’t say those particular three words as often as she probably should. “I’m fine, Ted. Really. Do what you need to do, don’t worry about me.”



”Good, ‘cause for once you don’t have a choice.”



“Oh I don’t, do I?” She asked innocently, looking up at him. “Since when did you become so forceful?” She teased. “Are you sure you weren’t brain-damaged while you were out playing hero?” Her words were affectionate, and though she put up a playful show of trying to free herself, it was clear Andie had no intention of moving anytime soon of her own accord.

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I don't know where this road is going to lead me

A deep sigh escaped Ted as he looked down at his wife - he’d been around her for long enough now that he could see when she was brooding, how quiet she was. In contrast to Andromeda, Ted had been raised in a world that was centered on the idea of family. He had brothers and sisters, a loving mother and father, so to say that perhaps he was a little bit more prepared for the role of parenthood than Andie had been would not only be an accurate statement, it might even be an understatement. But nevertheless, he’d been there for every step of the way, as often as he could have been given his job. He too had taken a big part in raising Dora, so whatever fault Andromeda felt she’d had as a mother, it was likely that Ted also shared fault.

”Love, you’re a fantastic mother, you can’t doubt yourself like that. You haven’t done anything, sweet, and if I thought Dora was angry with you, I’d tell you. She doesn’t speak to me much anymore either, you ought to know that. If she’s angry with you, then she’s angry with the both of us, and we’ll share that fault if it comes to us.” Ted didn’t try to be wise, but the thought of Andromeda having cause to be sad, angry, or hurt often drove Ted to mental places he normally didn’t go. Much like how Andromeda often strove to protect him however she could, and would do whatever it took to keep him safe, Ted was, for all intents and purposes, the exact same. But as he could tell that his words probably wouldn’t have the effect he wanted, he gently hooked a finger under her chin and gently lifted her head so she’d look him in the eyes. ”Nothing about this is your fault.”

Ted gazed at Andie evenly, struggling to keep that ever-present guilt from showing up on his face. As she talked about no longer being a Black and trying to assure him that she didn’t regret the choice she made, his struggle grew more and more difficult as slowly his gaze went from calm to doleful. Even as her fingers intertwined with his, the oyster that had been opened with this topic of conversation was always ever so hard to close.

He looked at the woman in front of him, thought about how much he loved her. He’d been beaten a number of times during their time at Hogwarts, for being a muggleborn, and for being associated with her. But that had been all that Ted Tonks had suffered, always and constantly lightened by the fact that he was in love with, then, Andromeda Black. Now as he looked at Andromeda Tonks, it was always hard not to think about the stigma that came from the act of her taking his name. Of her falling in love with him. She had literally given up everything. Her friends, her family, her life, her wealth… all to be with a simple, relatively poor, and average muggleborn like him. Ted didn’t understand it. He never did, and he never would, how he got to be so lucky, despite the fact that he was grateful for it every day.

”Am I?” he asked. ”Am I being that ridiculous?” While in any other context, and to any other person, in any other tone, the words might have been defensive and confrontational. But Ted meant them in no such way. They were just sad words, an echo of how stricken he’d been when he’d found out just how much her love for him had gotten her in trouble. In a way, Ted would never understand. He had no idea what it was like to have a family that one would willingly part, even for someone as incredible as Andromeda. ”I just… you shouldn’t have had to choose, love. If I’d been… I don’t know.” If he’d just been a better wizard, a better person, a better anything, really, maybe Andromeda wouldn’t have had to go through what she had. But he couldn’t argue her love, or how she felt about him, because her point about sticking around was a completely valid one.

Admittedly, some of the guilt melted as he barked out a weak but genuine laugh. ”Oi, I’d like to think I was treating you differently long before I was lucky enough to find out what your profession wanted to be,” he quipped, sticking his tongue right back out at her, chuckling.

At thinking about St. Mungo’s, he shifted his weight slightly and rolled his bad shoulder experimentally. It didn’t hurt nearly as much now that Andromeda had tended to it, but it was still stiff and he winced a little bit. It took him a minute to respond, momentarily distracted by the feeling Andromeda’s fingers trailing down his cheek. ”The, uh, the only thing that might have him in a tangle is the fact I left before he was done. I was an incredible patient. Believe me if you want, it doesn’t change the truth. Besides, I’m in no position to be giving lads promotions.”

Ted’s grin was hard to repress, and this time he wasn’t even making an attempt to hide how pleased he was at her reaction. Laughing and kissing her cheek, he looked at her with no small amount of affection (but also amusement) in his eyes. ”You are,” he said, almost like he was in a childish argument to prove he was right. ”Andromeda Tonks is blushing and speechless. I didn’t think it was possible. Now I can die a proud and happy man.” Not that he was even remotely trying to bring up the idea of death, nor would he have been unhappy in the first place.

”Oh, of course,” he answered, trying to act properly abashed. ”It’s always about you, I apologize for my discretion. Forgive me, Dromeda?” Ted broke out the puppy eyes just in case. While he didn’t use them for his own benefit very often, he still favored them once in a while.

He snorted. ”Luckily you’ll never have to.” Having Andromeda close was something that Ted cherished, and always had. When he’d first met her, she’d hated physical touch, and avoided all kinds of it, especially from him even before they’d started officially dating. In a way, Ted had coaxed her to the point where she wasn’t so uncomfortable with it, but he’d never forced anything onto her. He was just glad that she’d come to like it on her own, and he loved holding her close if anything just to have her in his arms. Because Ted, on the other hand, had grown up with a great deal of physical touch from his family, in hugs and wrestling, and all sorts of childhood shenanigans.

The very idea of their kitchen getting sabotaged made Ted rather sad, or just plain unhappy. ”I may very well cry if you chose to do it anyway,” he said, not entirely sure if he was joking or not.

”Hey.” Ted caught the guilty look in Andromeda’s eyes, and ever so gently he bent his head down to press his lips against hers. He didn’t want to make Andromeda ever feel guilty about anything, as that certainly hadn’t been his goal. It was a misconception that, because she was the one who stayed at home, that Andromeda missed Ted more than he missed her on a daily basis. In fact, it was a blatant lie. Ted loved having his wife at his side at all hours of the day, and this war, just like with her, had made everything feel ten times worse. He was constantly nervous, leaving the house in the morning. With Death Eaters everywhere and on the loose, he had no idea if it was even safe to leave her at home anymore.

”I’ll find shorter shifts. I’ll always worry about you, Dromeda, whether you want me to or not. So answer me honestly, love, no lying. Would it make you feel better if I was home a little bit more?” He gave her a look that essentially told her nonverbally that she was not permitted to lie just then, that he needed her to tell him the truth.

As the play struggle for her to get lose commenced, Ted tightened his grip on her waist and pulled her closer. His shoulder was still tender, of course, so his movement was at least a little restricted, but he naturally had enough strength that he could honestly keep Andie in his arms even if she did seriously struggle, not that he ever would. ”Mm, pretty sure the only bad spell that hit me was the one that burned me, no brain damage here. Maybe I just have an incredibly beautiful woman in my lap that I happen to have the good fortune to be married to,” he said as he gently nuzzled her neck and shoulder.

But I'm hoping that with you I can make it through

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”Love, you’re a fantastic mother, you can’t doubt yourself like that. You haven’t done anything, sweet, and if I thought Dora was angry with you, I’d tell you. She doesn’t speak to me much anymore either, you ought to know that. If she’s angry with you, then she’s angry with the both of us, and we’ll share that fault if it comes to us.”


To say that Andie hadn’t exactly been prepared to be a mother wasn’t far-fetched. Other than caring for her own siblings, Andie had never had an interest in having children of her own, given how her own childhood had occurred. She had warmed up to the idea by the time that Ted had brought it up, and had considered it something to consider further down the road, given they were both in training at St. Mungos- but as so many other things in her life, things sort of got out of control. By the time Andie had realized she was pregnant with their daughter, she had been so deliriously happy with the idea that she couldn’t believe she had ever questioned it. Enthusiasm, however, didn’t make up for practical experience, and more often than not, Andie had turned, wide-eyed, to her husband when she had no idea how to make their daughter happy. It had definitely been a team effort, raising their daughter, and while Andie had given up her career in order to be home with Dora, she had never pushed Ted to the side in order to handle things. While she was sure there was some sort of reason in Ted’s words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t wrong, either.



”Nothing about this is your fault.”



“I guess,” she answered grudgingly, her green eyes meeting his gaze as he tilted her chin up.

It was amazing, after twenty-five years together, how easily she could read Ted. As he stared down at her, Andie didn’t even have to try to see that she had disturbed his usual affability, and she frowned. Just as she had a hard time believing him about her relationship with Dora, she knew that some part of her husband had always blamed himself for what had happened to her. Andie had tried various ways to make him understand that it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her, but he never listened. Andie had gone through some major fires for him, both in giving up her whole world without a second glance, and in the aftermath, but weighing it against the things she had gained, Andie had won.



”Am I? Am I being that ridiculous?”



Andie squeezed his hand, stepping closer to him out of reflex. His tone of voice, so uncharacteristic of Ted, bothered her. “Yes,” she said quietly. “You are. Ted, I love you.” She held his eyes as she let the words, rare from her, sink in. “I married you. I’ve stayed with you. I want to be here.”



”I just… you shouldn’t have had to choose, love. If I’d been… I don’t know.”



“If you’d been what?” She echoed. “Smarter? Better? Stronger? They never would have accepted you, Ted. You could be a better wizard than Dumbledore himself and my family wouldn’t have changed their mind. All they care about is blood, Ted. Nothing more than a few cells. If they’re so blind that they couldn’t see how wonderful you are- and how happy you make me, then I don’t want anything to do with them.” She traced her thumbs lightly on the backs of his hands, her own expression solemn. “I’ve lived twenty-three years without them, Ted. I couldn’t live twenty-three minutes without you. Please stop beating yourself up.” She hated that a choice that had been hers from the beginning had made her husband, the only person in the world that she trusted as deeply as she did, miserable. Ted had never forced her hand in telling her family, or in leaving them, but she knew that it didn’t matter to him- he still saw himself as the reason Andie no longer had a pedigree, not that it made a difference to her. He had given her so many things in return from the one thing he had taken- he had given her a home, a sense of self, and security, all in exchange for a name. If she hadn’t walked out when she had, she would have been just as trapped as she had been on the day they had met. No one knew her as well as Ted, who had seen her nearly trip down the ailse at their wedding, who had watched her jump on the bed excitedly when she had told him they were having a child, who had held her close as she had cried herself to sleep after her family had disowned her. Things might not have always been easy, but they had been together. That was all that mattered to Andie, and she desperately wished she could get Ted to see it the way she did.



”Oi, I’d like to think I was treating you differently long before I was lucky enough to find out what your profession wanted to be,”



“I think you treated me quite commonly.” She winked, giggling. “Some days, I thought you were more interested in Melinda Rothcraft than me.” She pushed out her bottom lip in a teasing pout, knowing she looked childish- but not particularly caring, because it got Ted to laugh.



”The, uh, the only thing that might have him in a tangle is the fact I left before he was done. I was an incredible patient. Believe me if you want, it doesn’t change the truth. Besides, I’m in no position to be giving lads promotions.”



When Ted began to fidget, testing his injured shoulder, Andie seemed to perk up, her eyes alertly on him for any sign of something she could attend to. Seeing no immediate need for her help, she relaxed. “I don’t want to be getting letters sent home about how you were making life difficult for the poor lads in the ward. I’ll have to take away all of your cakes for a week.” She tried hard to look serious, but the bright gleam in her eyes killed the effect.



”You are. Andromeda Tonks is blushing and speechless. I didn’t think it was possible. Now I can die a proud and happy man.”



“Oh hush,” she swatted at him, shaking her head. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”



”Oh, of course. It’s always about you, I apologize for my discretion. Forgive me, Dromeda?”



At the look he gave her, Andie couldn’t help but bust out laughing. “I don’t know,” she teased, “I’m not sure how I feel about you forgetting that I’m the queen around here.”



”Luckily you’ll never have to.”



“Lucky indeed,” she intoned. She settled into a comfortable position, allowing her eyes to close as she relaxed against him. When they had first started dating, she had been particularly skittish about being touched- abhorred the idea, even, the way a wild animal would. Ted had been patient with her, gently coaxing her out of her shell, and she had found that she had been missing quite a lot. Now, Andie couldn’t walk past Ted without at least grazing him with her fingers. There was nothing she loved more than to sit, entangled, with her husband.



”I may very well cry if you chose to do it anyway,”



“Well, we couldn’t have that, could we? I suppose I’ll have to leave the kitchen alone, then.”



”Hey.”



Andie flinched as he gently forced him to look at her. This was one of the few times that Andie hated the fact that Ted could read her with just a glance, and as he stared at her, she absently rubbed at her arm, feeling vaguely exposed. She let her eyes close as he leaned in to kiss her, her own lips responding without fail. She was capable of hiding her thoughts from anyone else, but Ted was an impossibility- he knew her way too well for that.



”I’ll find shorter shifts. I’ll always worry about you, Dromeda, whether you want me to or not. So answer me honestly, love, no lying. Would it make you feel better if I was home a little bit more?”


Andie knew that look, and it took her a very long moment of weighing her response before she dropped her gaze again, giving the smallest, barely perceptible of nods. She hated that he was making the decision because of her, instead of his own free will, and she had a momentary moment of wonder at exactly how weak she was, that she needed to have her husband swoop in and rescue her from her own loneliness.



”Mm, pretty sure the only bad spell that hit me was the one that burned me, no brain damage here. Maybe I just have an incredibly beautiful woman in my lap that I happen to have the good fortune to be married to,”



She couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head slightly. “Well, I don’t know how we’d tell anyway- you’ve probably already had it from all the bludgers to the head.” She ran a hand through his hair absently, before her eyes flicked toward the window. “I think it’s finally stopped storming, love.”

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I don't know where this road is going to lead me

At her grudging response of, ”I guess,” Ted smiled as if he’d won some kind of fight or challenge, and gently tapped her on the nose with one of his fingers. ”And don’t forget it, love. We both raised her, so we’ll both share the blame if there’s any to be had.” Not to mention, while Ted was certainly not happy that their daughter was now a werewolf, and the current political situation practically made everything about this impossible, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t proud of her. Dora was braver than he could ever have hoped to be, actually taking part in this war to defend the rights of muggleborns against those who would not only take those rights away from them, but also just wipe them off the face of the earth in general. She had done what Ted had always been too scared to do, too scared of leaving Andromeda for.

He watched his wife carefully, scrutinizing her every word and expression and movement, searching for a sign, any sign, that she might have been lying about being alright with everything that had transpired in their lives. The gentle pressure of Andie squeezing his hand was a comforting one, but it was her words that caught him off guard. It was very rare that she ever directly said the words ”I love you,” to him - something that Ted had come to understand as a rare delicacy that he cherished and treasure every time he got it. So his blue eyes snapped to hers the second she said it, a clear sign that she absolutely, without a doubt, had his attention. ”I love you too,” he responded almost immediately, his voice a gentle rumble. With Ted, the statement wasn’t as rare as it was from Andromeda, considering he often told her every chance he got, as if she might forget.

They never would have accepted you. Those words shouldn’t have stung, but they did, and he gave a tiny flinch but shook it off almost immediately. ”S’pose you’re right,” he answered, his voice once again a small rumble, ”Just, sometimes I wish you wouldn’t have had to… y’know. Go through all that.” Of all his life, that had been his only and biggest regret, and in truth it wasn’t even his to have. But Andromeda was so inherently a part of his life, so inherently important to him, that she was virtually a part of him. Anything that happened to her, in essence also happened to him.

At her wink and giggle, though, his happiness returned, and a lopsided grin appeared on his face. ”Oi, I thought you liked the fact I treated you all common, Your Highness,” he teased, knowing that in a sense he was right. But at her miniature accusation, he pretended to look stricken. He did remember Melinda Rothcraft, in fact he remembered her very well, but she had never been up to par with Andromeda. ”Sometimes I just liked to make things interesting. At least for you, anyway. You were always prettier than she was, anyway.” And he meant it, though mostly because Ted honestly believed his wife to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

”Awe, not the cakes,” he whined at the false seriousness in her expression (he caught the gleam, which almost made him smile). ”But you won’t be getting any letters anyway, so I s’pose I’m safe.” Grinning like he was proud of himself, like a young child who’d managed to pull off an incredible feat, Ted hugged Andromeda a little closer, simply because he could. He also chuckled. ”But you do know what I’m talking about, you just don’t want to admit it.”

Andromeda said that she was the queen, but he wasn’t sure she knew just how close that was to Ted’s personal truth. Dromeda was his everything, his queen and his princess, everything royal rolled into one. He was the humble stableboy, the modest peasant, that had the good fortune, the luck, and the great happiness to be able to bask in her light every day, to have her to come home to after a long day of work. Andie took care of him in more ways than one, and without her, Ted honestly wasn’t entirely sure he’d survive, and not just because he couldn’t cook more than simple dishes without setting something on fire. ”I’ll never forget again, I promise, love,” he quipped, his eyes lighting up at her laugh.

Ted snorted but happily sighed shortly after as Dromeda relaxed in his arms, and for a moment he was content to simply sit there in silence and rest his chin on her shoulder. While Ted was sometimes a talkative and active sort of person, he was also perfectly capable of just sitting still and enjoying things for a while, especially if it was with Andromeda. As long as the silences wasn’t awkward, uncomfortable, or a result of his being bored, he was perfectly fine. ”Good,” was all he said in response to her saying that she would leave the kitchen alone.

As she sat there, looking uncomfortable and rubbing at her own arm, Ted’s gaze was intense and unwavering. When it came to times like this, Andie tried to make herself hard to read - sometimes resorting to being the closed off woman that she’d been when they’d first met, though not nearly as cold. So when she nodded, just barely, maybe someone else might not have seen it. But Ted did. ”Alright, then,” he said, quietly as if he was trying to match the mood. ”Shorter shifts if it is. I’ll put a request in tomorrow, alright? Besides. I don’t like leaving you alone here anyway, not for long and with… everything going on.” Not that Ted would have been much help if someone invaded their home, but… he still would feel ten times better if he was at Andromeda’s side as much as possible.

Her remark made him chuckle a little. ”Oi, I didn’t take that many Bludgers to the head. Just four, I think, in all my time playing Quidditch. Most of that was in third and fourth years. I was pretty good, you know, which you probably wouldn’t since you never watched.” He was only teasing her, a smile on his face, because he honestly couldn’t have cared less if Andie ever actually watched a game of his or not. Quidditch might have been a big part of his life at Hogwarts, but it was more the social aspect of having friends on the team that made it so, not his reputation or the matches or the cups.

His eyes closed briefly as her hand trailed through his hair, and when she noted that the storm had passed, his eyes flickered open, and he glanced towards the very window she was looking at. ”So it has,” he said gently, a small knowledge to his voice. Even though she’d never voiced it out loud, Ted knew that Andie had a little fear of storms, and he would have been perfectly content to simply hold her all night. With a yawn, he then said, almost sleepily, ”S’pose that might be a sign to head off to bed. Since I’m already halfway there considering I don’t have a shirt on and my gorgeous wife’s already in my arms.”

But I'm hoping that with you I can make it through

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”And don’t forget it, love. We both raised her, so we’ll both share the blame if there’s any to be had.”

Andie would let him claim this victory, though they both knew that she would never, in a million years, let Ted take the blame for anything regarding Dora. Andie had spent a singularly large amount of time over the years mentally dissecting her daughter, deciding which bits of her came from where- and the odds were so stacked in Ted’s favor that it was impossible for Andie to see any of the bad coming from anyone but herself. She loved her daughter, more than she loved anything, and that was because she was exactly like what Andie wanted her to be- a further branch of her father, the shining beacon of all that was good in Andie’s world. She might agree to disagree, but Andie would never be dissuaded on that argument.

She could feel Ted peering at her, waiting for her to show any sign of deception- but for once, Andie’s feelings were directly as she stated. It wasn’t easy for Andie to allow people to get that close to her, to show them the real part of her that existed mainly in her own thoughts, but she had allowed Ted (and through Ted, Dora) in- and she did not regret it. There were few things Andromeda was completely sincere about, but her love of Ted was absolutely unquestionable- and she would stand up to anyone who tried to challenge it, blood relative or not. As he took in her words, so rarely spoken but so often meant, Andie met his gaze evenly.

”I love you too,”

“I know.” She smiled, squeezing his hands again. He had never given her any reason to doubt it.

”S’pose you’re right. Just, sometimes I wish you wouldn’t have had to… y’know. Go through all that.”

Though Andie saw the flinch, she didn’t respond other than to frown at him. Through this wonderful man, she had learned what it was like to truly trust someone- to love them beyond what you loved about yourself. Ted was her other half, and they were so entangled at this point that she didn’t even have to think when she was around him, she simply moved in sync. She knew that her pain over losing her family had hurt him, because every time he got hurt, it hurt her, too. But Andie also knew that the pain she had felt over losing her family was nothing compared to the pain she felt at the thought of losing him. “If I hadn’t, Ted, I never would have seen you again.” She put her hands on his face, making him meet her gaze. “We would never been together. I don’t regret my decision.”

”Oi, I thought you liked the fact I treated you all common, Your Highness,. Sometimes I just liked to make things interesting. At least for you, anyway. You were always prettier than she was, anyway.”

“Ted, did you just admit to willingly playing with me?” She laughed, surprised. There had been a time when she legitimately did give Melinda a sideways glance every now and then, jealous of the leggy Hufflepuff’s easy access to the boy they both had their eyes on. To hear that Ted had played along just to tease Andromeda… well, Andie was surprised, and more than a little awed. She had never quite suspected him of it.

The two continued to playfully bicker as they settled down together, cozied up in the chair. It wasn’t unusual for them to be so playful- in fact, it was pretty commonplace. Dora, more often than Andie could count, had rolled her eyes at their childishness. Many people had often told Andie that the butterflies and newlywed feelings died off, but to this day, Andie could say that hers hadn’t. After twenty-four years, she suspected they never would.

”Alright, then. Shorter shifts if it is. I’ll put a request in tomorrow, alright? Besides. I don’t like leaving you alone here anyway, not for long and with… everything going on.”

“You worry too much,” Andie sniffed, but they both knew it was for show. The tension in her body lessened visibly as she snuggled closer to him, happy that he would be at home with her more in the future, where she could keep an eye on him.

”Oi, I didn’t take that many Bludgers to the head. Just four, I think, in all my time playing Quidditch. Most of that was in third and fourth years. I was pretty good, you know, which you probably wouldn’t since you never watched.”

“That you know,” Andie snarked, her eyes glinting mischievously. Unknown to Ted, she had been to plenty of the games during their sixth and seventh years- not because she cared an inkling about Quidditch, but to watch the Hufflepuff beater. It had been relatively easy to pass herself off as a Ravenclaw and watch the games far from the prying eyes of her sisters- after all, no one thought to question a lonely prefect wandering near the laundry on “patrol.” It had been easy to sneak out some robes and a scarf, and as long as she came late and left early, no one was the wiser.

”So it has. S’pose that might be a sign to head off to bed. Since I’m already halfway there considering I don’t have a shirt on and my gorgeous wife’s already in my arms.”

Andie laughed softly, kissing his cheek before climbing off of his lap. She offered him a hand after stretching. “Poor love, so overworked. I suppose I can let you sleep,” she winked, cozying up to his side as they headed towards the bedroom. After the night’s events, she had to admit that she was tired, too.