Home
I was looking through all the old documents I have on my computer, trying to avoid doing any real work, and I found a whole bunch of half-written fics that I'd completely forgotten about! With some of them I can't even remember where the stories were going, but this is one that just needed tweaking a little bit before posting.
Title: Home
Rating: probably G
Word count: 917
Summary: Andromeda finally sets aside her issues with her daughter's new husband.
Author's Note: I really couldn't think of anything to call it, so I'm sorry the title sucks. Feedback would be much appreciated.
Home
Dinner was coming along nicely. Even now, in wartime, with the family in hiding and the food rationed, Andromeda prided herself in the fact that every meal she made was a substantial one, and able to cater to the unusual tastes of her werewolf son-in-law and her pregnant daughter, with enough left over that, should Ted suddenly turn up on their doorstep, they could feed him as well.
There was a knock on the door, and hope sprang into her heart. Was that him now? Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried to the front door, reaching it at the same time as Dora. There was a brief squabble over the privilege of answering.
“It’s only Remus, Mum!”
“But what if it’s not? What if it’s a Death Eater?”
“I’m pregnant, not an invalid! Besides, I’m an Auror.” Dora drew her wand. “Who’s there? Identify yourself!”
“It is I, Remus John Lupin, werewolf, married to Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, and we spent our honeymoon moving all of my belongings to her flat in Brixton.” Andromeda’s heart sank. She really had been hoping it would be Ted.
Dora opened the door and flung herself into her husband’s arms, as she did most days. Andromeda knew she hated being locked in the house all day with her mother, unable to help with the Order business that had come to mean so much to her. She probably wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been Remus who asked her to stay safe at home. Andromeda didn’t understand the power this shabby werewolf had over her daughter, but in this instance, she was grateful that he did.
Dinner, as usual, was occupied with Remus telling stories of the Weasley twins’ latest get-up. Andromeda zoned out, but was brought back to Earth by a particularly unladylike snort from across the table. She looked up, and frowned.
“Dora,” she reprimanded, as if her daughter were still seven years old. “No pig snouts at the table.”
Dora’s laughter died away, and she looked blankly at her mother. Then realisation dawned, and she leapt out of her chair to squint into the dining room mirror. It took more effort than usual to change back; Andromeda assumed it was because of her hormones. In her more turbulent teenage years her morphing had been so uncontrollable it had been embarrassing to take her out in public.
Remus, as always, cleaned his plate and thanked her for dinner, offering to help with the washing up.
“Yeah, ta, Mum,” Dora said, not bothering to offer to help. She knew by now that she wasn’t allowed to wash up. She had left her sprouts, although Andromeda couldn’t really blame her - they were the most disgusting excuse for food she had ever come across, and she had eaten doxy eggs. Andromeda almost smiled: she remembered when she and Sirius used to slip their sprouts into the pockets of their robes, and had later used them to throw at Kreacher in revenge for cooking them.
When the washing up was finished, Remus retired to the front room with some papers, while Andromeda set to work on the tea. She didn’t bother putting milk on the tea tray, as none of them took it. Not now Ted wasn’t here.
Remus was in an armchair by the fire, and Dora was stretched out on the sofa. She was asleep, but a frown creased her forehead and her face was slipping through morphs. Andromeda knew she had been having bad dreams lately.
Suddenly she jolted awake, Bellatrix’s wild eyes flashing around the room like fire. Andromeda dropped the tea tray and fumbled for her wand, before she remembered that it was Dora, not Bellatrix, Dora. Remus, too, had started from his chair. Dora took in their panicked expressions, and ran for the mirror. She let out a low cry of horror at her reflection, and screwed up her face in a morph, but-
“I can’t change!” she cried. “I can’t change back!” Tears were suddenly running down her face; she seemed desperate.
“It’s alright!” Remus exclaimed, hurrying to her side, but she turned away, hiding her face.
“Don’t look at me!”
“It’s alright,” Remus said again, wrapping his arms around her. “We know it’s you. It doesn’t matter what face you wear. We’ll always know it’s you, so it’s alright.”
She had already stopped crying, but she didn’t look like she believed him, so he took Bellatrix’s face in his hands and kissed her. That made Andromeda more than a little uncomfortable: it was strange seeing this werewolf - this man - kissing this strange woman who wore her sister’s face and her daughter’s clothes.
But then she realised that he was right. Even though, she was wearing Bellatrix’s face, she was still very much Dora. And was clearly very, very in love with this werewolf. This werewolf who, Andromeda realised as she cleaned up the mess she’d made with a wave of her wand, was as unlike Fenrir Greyback as Dora was Bellatrix.
As she turned away to make more tea, Andromeda suddenly began to understand why Remus had so much power over Dora. It wasn’t malicious power, like she’d first thought; it was the most gentle power imaginable - it was the same sort of power that Ted still had over Andromeda, even though she had no idea where he was, and it was a power that Remus Lupin very much deserved.
And this realisation made Andromeda smile for the first time in weeks.
Title: Home
Rating: probably G
Word count: 917
Summary: Andromeda finally sets aside her issues with her daughter's new husband.
Author's Note: I really couldn't think of anything to call it, so I'm sorry the title sucks. Feedback would be much appreciated.
Home
Dinner was coming along nicely. Even now, in wartime, with the family in hiding and the food rationed, Andromeda prided herself in the fact that every meal she made was a substantial one, and able to cater to the unusual tastes of her werewolf son-in-law and her pregnant daughter, with enough left over that, should Ted suddenly turn up on their doorstep, they could feed him as well.
There was a knock on the door, and hope sprang into her heart. Was that him now? Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried to the front door, reaching it at the same time as Dora. There was a brief squabble over the privilege of answering.
“It’s only Remus, Mum!”
“But what if it’s not? What if it’s a Death Eater?”
“I’m pregnant, not an invalid! Besides, I’m an Auror.” Dora drew her wand. “Who’s there? Identify yourself!”
“It is I, Remus John Lupin, werewolf, married to Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, and we spent our honeymoon moving all of my belongings to her flat in Brixton.” Andromeda’s heart sank. She really had been hoping it would be Ted.
Dora opened the door and flung herself into her husband’s arms, as she did most days. Andromeda knew she hated being locked in the house all day with her mother, unable to help with the Order business that had come to mean so much to her. She probably wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been Remus who asked her to stay safe at home. Andromeda didn’t understand the power this shabby werewolf had over her daughter, but in this instance, she was grateful that he did.
Dinner, as usual, was occupied with Remus telling stories of the Weasley twins’ latest get-up. Andromeda zoned out, but was brought back to Earth by a particularly unladylike snort from across the table. She looked up, and frowned.
“Dora,” she reprimanded, as if her daughter were still seven years old. “No pig snouts at the table.”
Dora’s laughter died away, and she looked blankly at her mother. Then realisation dawned, and she leapt out of her chair to squint into the dining room mirror. It took more effort than usual to change back; Andromeda assumed it was because of her hormones. In her more turbulent teenage years her morphing had been so uncontrollable it had been embarrassing to take her out in public.
Remus, as always, cleaned his plate and thanked her for dinner, offering to help with the washing up.
“Yeah, ta, Mum,” Dora said, not bothering to offer to help. She knew by now that she wasn’t allowed to wash up. She had left her sprouts, although Andromeda couldn’t really blame her - they were the most disgusting excuse for food she had ever come across, and she had eaten doxy eggs. Andromeda almost smiled: she remembered when she and Sirius used to slip their sprouts into the pockets of their robes, and had later used them to throw at Kreacher in revenge for cooking them.
When the washing up was finished, Remus retired to the front room with some papers, while Andromeda set to work on the tea. She didn’t bother putting milk on the tea tray, as none of them took it. Not now Ted wasn’t here.
Remus was in an armchair by the fire, and Dora was stretched out on the sofa. She was asleep, but a frown creased her forehead and her face was slipping through morphs. Andromeda knew she had been having bad dreams lately.
Suddenly she jolted awake, Bellatrix’s wild eyes flashing around the room like fire. Andromeda dropped the tea tray and fumbled for her wand, before she remembered that it was Dora, not Bellatrix, Dora. Remus, too, had started from his chair. Dora took in their panicked expressions, and ran for the mirror. She let out a low cry of horror at her reflection, and screwed up her face in a morph, but-
“I can’t change!” she cried. “I can’t change back!” Tears were suddenly running down her face; she seemed desperate.
“It’s alright!” Remus exclaimed, hurrying to her side, but she turned away, hiding her face.
“Don’t look at me!”
“It’s alright,” Remus said again, wrapping his arms around her. “We know it’s you. It doesn’t matter what face you wear. We’ll always know it’s you, so it’s alright.”
She had already stopped crying, but she didn’t look like she believed him, so he took Bellatrix’s face in his hands and kissed her. That made Andromeda more than a little uncomfortable: it was strange seeing this werewolf - this man - kissing this strange woman who wore her sister’s face and her daughter’s clothes.
But then she realised that he was right. Even though, she was wearing Bellatrix’s face, she was still very much Dora. And was clearly very, very in love with this werewolf. This werewolf who, Andromeda realised as she cleaned up the mess she’d made with a wave of her wand, was as unlike Fenrir Greyback as Dora was Bellatrix.
As she turned away to make more tea, Andromeda suddenly began to understand why Remus had so much power over Dora. It wasn’t malicious power, like she’d first thought; it was the most gentle power imaginable - it was the same sort of power that Ted still had over Andromeda, even though she had no idea where he was, and it was a power that Remus Lupin very much deserved.
And this realisation made Andromeda smile for the first time in weeks.