Among My Souvenirs (Harry Potter; Andromeda Tonks; PG-13)
Title: Among My Souvenirs
Author: snorkackcatcher
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Words: 2,000 approx
Characters: Andromeda, Teddy, Ted, Nymphadora, a few cameos
Prompt: 26) We can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still too close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest...might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion, as it had before. --Daphne Du Maurier (1907-1989), English author, biographer and playwright. (Kinda sorta used, in a way, but not as much as I thought it would be.)
Summary: Andromeda preserves that which is precious to her in a manner only a witch can.
Author's Notes: Thanks to lazy_neutrino for the beta. A few further notes at the end.
Andromeda preserves that which is precious to her in a manner only a witch can. Too much has been lost to be careless of the things of value that remain. She likes to think of them as her souvenirs, remnants from and reminders of happier times. They are kept safe by means both apparent and secret; a locked door, and a hiding-place no-one suspects might contain something she holds dear.
Especially not Teddy. There may come a time when he will wish to examine her souvenirs, a time when he will not find them distressing, but he is yet barely an adult and she judges that this time has not yet come.
***
The place by the stream had always been theirs, a quiet haven away from everyone who might find fault with them, and where they were hidden from the sight of the world. Andromeda nestled in Ted's arms in a little hollow in the bank, with soft moss against their backs, and the branches of overhanging trees playing tricks with the sunlight; a simple moment of pleasure of the kind she has always loved.
"Knut for your thoughts, Dromeda," said Ted after a while.
"I don't think I'll ever tire of this place, Ted."
"Me neither."
Even though Andromeda knows their surroundings so well, still there are things she has never before noticed, like the way the stream leapt as it flowed between two large stones. She sighs contentedly.
***
Nymphadora's expression was anxious, an expression that Andromeda remembers well on her own face. She only has eyes for her daughter and her grandson in this moment, and cannot bear to look away -- but still, out of the corner of her eye she cannot help but notice Remus Lupin. He looked positively terrified.
Andromeda looks down at the little bundle nestled in his mother's arms, and smiles at the dawning maternal realisation. Every parent thinks their child is one in a million, but Nymphadora's child was -- well, if not actually that, at any rate one in half a million! Teddy's little mop of black hair had begun to shift, and for the first time a trace of another colour crept in.
His mother and father cried in happiness, and Andromeda can feel tears running down her own cheeks.
***
"Nice to get away for a bit, eh?" said Ted. He watched little Nymphadora with affection as she started to climb a tree in the far corner of the garden.
His wife nodded. Ted had not noticed her expression -- one of mild concern, because their daughter had been clumsy all her life -- but his attitude to risks had always been optimistic, sometimes overly so, and Andromeda knows this too well and does not wish to think about it now. For a mixed couple, a week in a holiday cottage in the Lake District (booked via a Muggle travel agent by Ted's sister under her married name, of course) represented a rare treat in dangerous times, nine long years into a war being slowly but remorselessly lost.
Both parents cried out in alarm as Nymphadora slipped and fell, but their reaction quickly turned to joy as their daughter slowed in mid-air and bounced, looking around in bemusement as she landed gently on her feet -- only to trip immediately over a tree root and fall on her rear end. She seemed most put out by her parents' amusement, but even now Andromeda cannot stop herself from laughing helplessly at the sight. Whether or not your child has shown themselves to be a Metamorphmagus, their first display of everyday accidental magic is a precious moment that every witch wishes to cherish.
***
Teddy is rushing around frantically. Andromeda ducks as he Summons a clean shirt from the laundry basket and it flies past her up the stairs -- the fourth he has tried so far. This one seems to find favour, and as she steps out fully into the hallway and closes the door behind her, she watches him clatter down the stairs.
He stops in front of the mirror to run through half a dozen different hair colours and styles, before returning to the spiky turquoise blue he had to begin with. Then with a mumbled "bye, Gran!" he turns on the spot and vanishes, a painfully loud crack ringing in the air.
She smiles to herself. She recognises the signs of nervous young love only too well. Her grandson is growing up quickly.
***
Andromeda nestled in Ted's arms in a little hollow in the bank of the stream, with soft moss against their backs, and the branches of overhanging trees playing tricks with the sunlight. Here they were hidden from the sight of the world, and even though Andromeda knows it so well, she has never, ever tired of this place.
"Knut for your thoughts, Dromeda," said Ted after a while, as he so often did.
"I'd like to keep this moment for ever, Ted. I'd like to keep you for ever."
He smiled down at her. "Is that a proposal?" he said, only half jokingly.
Andromeda glanced up sharply. She smiles as she hears herself say, in sudden wonder and realisation, "yes!" and knows that this is the only answer she could ever have given.
Ted looked awestruck. He swallowed a couple of times as if not trusting himself to speak, and said simply, "Then I'm accepting," and Andromeda feels her heart swell with joy.
***
Andromeda has always liked to experience the quiet, unexpected moments of pleasure. The school holiday had generally been a hectic time, but offered moments when she could just lie back on the sofa and relax. On this occasion Ted had returned home and insisted on cooking the evening meal all by himself -- fresh salmon prepared in 'his own special way' -- and as Andromeda sits in a favourite old chair in the corner, she listens to the half-forgotten old song playing on the WWN, and the tuneless humming coming from the kitchen, and smiles affectionately.
Nymphadora had already disappeared to her room by the time all this had transpired, but every now and again a clatter on the stairs warns Andromeda of her daughter's imminent arrival in the lounge. It was the same pattern each time she came through the door -- she frantically asked her mother for advice on how best to write to a boy from school, then dashed off again without really waiting to hear the reply -- but Andromeda listens carefully to every word and answers the questions anyway. It isn't exactly a conversation with her daughter, but it is nearly as good as one.
***
After the first dutiful round of pleasantries at the arrival of his godfather, Teddy went back to the garden, climbing a tree with as much enthusiasm and rather more sure-footedness than his mother had ever shown. Andromeda watches this with fond humour, a sentiment clearly shared by Harry and Ginevra Potter, who exchanged smiles tinged with sadness with Teddy's grandmother. They had of course been told the story of Nymphadora's accidental magic many times, but Andromeda suspects she will still tell them again and again.
In the background of her consciousness, Andromeda can hear the Potters attempting to offer a few words of condolence; but she does not listen to them, concentrating fiercely on Teddy instead. She does not wish to be rehash painful memories, she wishes to focus on moments of gladness. It is, after all, about time for her grandson to demonstrate that he too can perform accidental magic.
***
Her expression was furious, that of a woman who wanted to curse the Healer for having the nerve to stand there grinning at her, instead of calming her fears. But as she listened to him speak, Andromeda realised that her daughter was blessed, not cursed, and there was wonder on her face at the realisation.
Andromeda looks down at the little bundle nestled in her mother's arms, and smiles at the dawning maternal realisation; every parent thinks their child is one in a million, but her child actually was. Nymphadora's little mop of brown hair had begun to shift again, and for the first time a trace of pink crept in.
Her mother cried in happiness, and Andromeda can feel tears running down her own cheeks.
***
Andromeda remembers well the feel of soft moss against her back in the little nook where the bank had hollowed out. She watches the way the branches of overhanging trees play tricks with the sunlight as if it were the first time she had ever experienced it. Half-leaning against Ted's shoulder, she was neatly hidden from the sight of those who did not know where to look.
"Knut for your thoughts, Dromeda," said Ted after a while.
"I'd like to keep this moment for ever, Ted. I'd like to keep you for ever," said Andromeda, and then as Ted smiles at his sweetheart, Andromeda says, "And I always will."
"Is that a proposal?" he said -- only half jokingly -- to the woman nestled in his arms.
Andromeda glanced up sharply and said "yes!" and as Andromeda murmurs "of course it was," she knows that the answer she would always give is the only answer she ever could have given. Ted said "Then I'm accepting," and Andromeda simply sits back and drinks in the awestruck expression on his much-loved face.
***
Andromeda is jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. She moves swiftly into the hallway, and to her surprise finds Teddy and his girlfriend already at the foot of the stairs. For a moment his face is lit by two sources of silvery light, until Andromeda shuts the door to her private room, leaving only the radiance from a blissful Victoire.
"You startled me, Teddy," she says, flustered.
"Can -- can we have a word, Gran?" he says. He seems equally flustered, and when she nods in bewilderment he rushes on, "Look, I know you'll probably say we're going into this too quickly, but Victoire and me, we really care for each other, and well -- we've found our own little place, we're going to get engaged, and --" He breaks off in confusion. "What I mean is, I'm going to be moving out, but I don't want you to think I'm rushing to get away from you or anything --"
Andromeda smiles at the awestruck expression on his face when he looks at his sweetheart, an expression that for once makes him look far more like his grandfather than his father. "Congratulations, Teddy," she says briskly; the thought of him leaving her too tugs at her heart, but this is a moment she has been prepared against for a long time. "Victoire is a lovely girl, and I'm sure you'll be very happy together."
"Are -- are you sure it's OK?" He looks hopeful, wanting some form of permission from her that lets him leave without guilt. "Will you be all right on your own, Gran?"
"Of course." She glances back at the door of her room for a moment. "I'll be fine. Young people have to follow their own path -- we poor old folk tend to live in the past anyway. And ... I have my souvenirs to remind me. One day I'll show them to you."
***
Nymphadora slipped from the tree and fell, but even now Andromeda cannot stop herself from laughing helplessly at the sight that followed. Her daughter slowed in mid-air and bounced, looking around in bemusement as she landed gently on her feet -- only to trip immediately over a tree root and fall on her rear end.
Whether or not your child was a Metamorphmagus, their first display of everyday accidental magic is a precious moment every witch wishes to cherish again and again. Andromeda has lost too much to be careless of such things, and has preserved it in a manner only a witch can.
---------------------------------------------------------
Additional Notes: There were two key starting points for this. One was a throwaway image near the end of Isaac Asimov's novella The Dead Past that reminded me of Pensieves (no more spoilers, but hopefully developed here with a different feel). The other was when I wondered if it would actually be possible to write a story with a genuine reason for shifting tenses mid-paragraph, or indeed mid-sentence. Whether it worked or not -- you tell me. ;)
Author: snorkackcatcher
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Words: 2,000 approx
Characters: Andromeda, Teddy, Ted, Nymphadora, a few cameos
Prompt: 26) We can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still too close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest...might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion, as it had before. --Daphne Du Maurier (1907-1989), English author, biographer and playwright. (Kinda sorta used, in a way, but not as much as I thought it would be.)
Summary: Andromeda preserves that which is precious to her in a manner only a witch can.
Author's Notes: Thanks to lazy_neutrino for the beta. A few further notes at the end.
Andromeda preserves that which is precious to her in a manner only a witch can. Too much has been lost to be careless of the things of value that remain. She likes to think of them as her souvenirs, remnants from and reminders of happier times. They are kept safe by means both apparent and secret; a locked door, and a hiding-place no-one suspects might contain something she holds dear.
Especially not Teddy. There may come a time when he will wish to examine her souvenirs, a time when he will not find them distressing, but he is yet barely an adult and she judges that this time has not yet come.
***
The place by the stream had always been theirs, a quiet haven away from everyone who might find fault with them, and where they were hidden from the sight of the world. Andromeda nestled in Ted's arms in a little hollow in the bank, with soft moss against their backs, and the branches of overhanging trees playing tricks with the sunlight; a simple moment of pleasure of the kind she has always loved.
"Knut for your thoughts, Dromeda," said Ted after a while.
"I don't think I'll ever tire of this place, Ted."
"Me neither."
Even though Andromeda knows their surroundings so well, still there are things she has never before noticed, like the way the stream leapt as it flowed between two large stones. She sighs contentedly.
***
Nymphadora's expression was anxious, an expression that Andromeda remembers well on her own face. She only has eyes for her daughter and her grandson in this moment, and cannot bear to look away -- but still, out of the corner of her eye she cannot help but notice Remus Lupin. He looked positively terrified.
Andromeda looks down at the little bundle nestled in his mother's arms, and smiles at the dawning maternal realisation. Every parent thinks their child is one in a million, but Nymphadora's child was -- well, if not actually that, at any rate one in half a million! Teddy's little mop of black hair had begun to shift, and for the first time a trace of another colour crept in.
His mother and father cried in happiness, and Andromeda can feel tears running down her own cheeks.
***
"Nice to get away for a bit, eh?" said Ted. He watched little Nymphadora with affection as she started to climb a tree in the far corner of the garden.
His wife nodded. Ted had not noticed her expression -- one of mild concern, because their daughter had been clumsy all her life -- but his attitude to risks had always been optimistic, sometimes overly so, and Andromeda knows this too well and does not wish to think about it now. For a mixed couple, a week in a holiday cottage in the Lake District (booked via a Muggle travel agent by Ted's sister under her married name, of course) represented a rare treat in dangerous times, nine long years into a war being slowly but remorselessly lost.
Both parents cried out in alarm as Nymphadora slipped and fell, but their reaction quickly turned to joy as their daughter slowed in mid-air and bounced, looking around in bemusement as she landed gently on her feet -- only to trip immediately over a tree root and fall on her rear end. She seemed most put out by her parents' amusement, but even now Andromeda cannot stop herself from laughing helplessly at the sight. Whether or not your child has shown themselves to be a Metamorphmagus, their first display of everyday accidental magic is a precious moment that every witch wishes to cherish.
***
Teddy is rushing around frantically. Andromeda ducks as he Summons a clean shirt from the laundry basket and it flies past her up the stairs -- the fourth he has tried so far. This one seems to find favour, and as she steps out fully into the hallway and closes the door behind her, she watches him clatter down the stairs.
He stops in front of the mirror to run through half a dozen different hair colours and styles, before returning to the spiky turquoise blue he had to begin with. Then with a mumbled "bye, Gran!" he turns on the spot and vanishes, a painfully loud crack ringing in the air.
She smiles to herself. She recognises the signs of nervous young love only too well. Her grandson is growing up quickly.
***
Andromeda nestled in Ted's arms in a little hollow in the bank of the stream, with soft moss against their backs, and the branches of overhanging trees playing tricks with the sunlight. Here they were hidden from the sight of the world, and even though Andromeda knows it so well, she has never, ever tired of this place.
"Knut for your thoughts, Dromeda," said Ted after a while, as he so often did.
"I'd like to keep this moment for ever, Ted. I'd like to keep you for ever."
He smiled down at her. "Is that a proposal?" he said, only half jokingly.
Andromeda glanced up sharply. She smiles as she hears herself say, in sudden wonder and realisation, "yes!" and knows that this is the only answer she could ever have given.
Ted looked awestruck. He swallowed a couple of times as if not trusting himself to speak, and said simply, "Then I'm accepting," and Andromeda feels her heart swell with joy.
***
Andromeda has always liked to experience the quiet, unexpected moments of pleasure. The school holiday had generally been a hectic time, but offered moments when she could just lie back on the sofa and relax. On this occasion Ted had returned home and insisted on cooking the evening meal all by himself -- fresh salmon prepared in 'his own special way' -- and as Andromeda sits in a favourite old chair in the corner, she listens to the half-forgotten old song playing on the WWN, and the tuneless humming coming from the kitchen, and smiles affectionately.
Nymphadora had already disappeared to her room by the time all this had transpired, but every now and again a clatter on the stairs warns Andromeda of her daughter's imminent arrival in the lounge. It was the same pattern each time she came through the door -- she frantically asked her mother for advice on how best to write to a boy from school, then dashed off again without really waiting to hear the reply -- but Andromeda listens carefully to every word and answers the questions anyway. It isn't exactly a conversation with her daughter, but it is nearly as good as one.
***
After the first dutiful round of pleasantries at the arrival of his godfather, Teddy went back to the garden, climbing a tree with as much enthusiasm and rather more sure-footedness than his mother had ever shown. Andromeda watches this with fond humour, a sentiment clearly shared by Harry and Ginevra Potter, who exchanged smiles tinged with sadness with Teddy's grandmother. They had of course been told the story of Nymphadora's accidental magic many times, but Andromeda suspects she will still tell them again and again.
In the background of her consciousness, Andromeda can hear the Potters attempting to offer a few words of condolence; but she does not listen to them, concentrating fiercely on Teddy instead. She does not wish to be rehash painful memories, she wishes to focus on moments of gladness. It is, after all, about time for her grandson to demonstrate that he too can perform accidental magic.
***
Her expression was furious, that of a woman who wanted to curse the Healer for having the nerve to stand there grinning at her, instead of calming her fears. But as she listened to him speak, Andromeda realised that her daughter was blessed, not cursed, and there was wonder on her face at the realisation.
Andromeda looks down at the little bundle nestled in her mother's arms, and smiles at the dawning maternal realisation; every parent thinks their child is one in a million, but her child actually was. Nymphadora's little mop of brown hair had begun to shift again, and for the first time a trace of pink crept in.
Her mother cried in happiness, and Andromeda can feel tears running down her own cheeks.
***
Andromeda remembers well the feel of soft moss against her back in the little nook where the bank had hollowed out. She watches the way the branches of overhanging trees play tricks with the sunlight as if it were the first time she had ever experienced it. Half-leaning against Ted's shoulder, she was neatly hidden from the sight of those who did not know where to look.
"Knut for your thoughts, Dromeda," said Ted after a while.
"I'd like to keep this moment for ever, Ted. I'd like to keep you for ever," said Andromeda, and then as Ted smiles at his sweetheart, Andromeda says, "And I always will."
"Is that a proposal?" he said -- only half jokingly -- to the woman nestled in his arms.
Andromeda glanced up sharply and said "yes!" and as Andromeda murmurs "of course it was," she knows that the answer she would always give is the only answer she ever could have given. Ted said "Then I'm accepting," and Andromeda simply sits back and drinks in the awestruck expression on his much-loved face.
***
Andromeda is jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. She moves swiftly into the hallway, and to her surprise finds Teddy and his girlfriend already at the foot of the stairs. For a moment his face is lit by two sources of silvery light, until Andromeda shuts the door to her private room, leaving only the radiance from a blissful Victoire.
"You startled me, Teddy," she says, flustered.
"Can -- can we have a word, Gran?" he says. He seems equally flustered, and when she nods in bewilderment he rushes on, "Look, I know you'll probably say we're going into this too quickly, but Victoire and me, we really care for each other, and well -- we've found our own little place, we're going to get engaged, and --" He breaks off in confusion. "What I mean is, I'm going to be moving out, but I don't want you to think I'm rushing to get away from you or anything --"
Andromeda smiles at the awestruck expression on his face when he looks at his sweetheart, an expression that for once makes him look far more like his grandfather than his father. "Congratulations, Teddy," she says briskly; the thought of him leaving her too tugs at her heart, but this is a moment she has been prepared against for a long time. "Victoire is a lovely girl, and I'm sure you'll be very happy together."
"Are -- are you sure it's OK?" He looks hopeful, wanting some form of permission from her that lets him leave without guilt. "Will you be all right on your own, Gran?"
"Of course." She glances back at the door of her room for a moment. "I'll be fine. Young people have to follow their own path -- we poor old folk tend to live in the past anyway. And ... I have my souvenirs to remind me. One day I'll show them to you."
***
Nymphadora slipped from the tree and fell, but even now Andromeda cannot stop herself from laughing helplessly at the sight that followed. Her daughter slowed in mid-air and bounced, looking around in bemusement as she landed gently on her feet -- only to trip immediately over a tree root and fall on her rear end.
Whether or not your child was a Metamorphmagus, their first display of everyday accidental magic is a precious moment every witch wishes to cherish again and again. Andromeda has lost too much to be careless of such things, and has preserved it in a manner only a witch can.
---------------------------------------------------------
Additional Notes: There were two key starting points for this. One was a throwaway image near the end of Isaac Asimov's novella The Dead Past that reminded me of Pensieves (no more spoilers, but hopefully developed here with a different feel). The other was when I wondered if it would actually be possible to write a story with a genuine reason for shifting tenses mid-paragraph, or indeed mid-sentence. Whether it worked or not -- you tell me. ;)