500 watcher drabble: Not Far from the Tree (Andromeda, Tonks, PG)
Title: Not Far from the Tree
Pairing: Andromeda/Ted, Tonks/Remus, though it's more about the mother-daughter relationship, I think.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: JKR owns
Challenge (if applicable): 500 watchers drabble challenge
Word count: 513
Edit: I have fixed an awkward sentence that slipped by my proofreading, changed the word count to reflect that, and upped the rating to PG. I had forgotten I said "hell." Not like it's likely to be a big deal on an adult comm--but it's the principle of the thing. :)
There is a certain peace to be found in a garden. I do not think either of my sisters ever understood it. Bella, if she’d had time to dally with herbs and roots in between her misplaced crusades, would have planted hellebore and aconite, waiting impatiently until they yielded up their deadly secrets, but never understanding the simple joy of the planting and the tending. As for Cissy, I doubt she would appreciate any pastime that involved getting dirt under her nails.
But I have always loved it. Kneeling in the beds, inhaling the rich and somehow pure odor of fresh-turned earth, I feel rooted, steadied. And now, with fall tucking summer softly into sleep, I am surrounded by the fruits of my labours. The rose petals have fallen, but the hips are ripening now, round and red. They will make a tasty tea; I pluck them and let them fall into my basket.
It takes my mind, for a moment, from what is troubling me: Nymphadora dropped by, not an hour ago, to tell me she was marrying Remus Lupin. “Oh, and he’s a werewolf,” she said, “but don’t worry, he’s a nice sort of werewolf, you’ll like him…”
I had hoped her life would be easier than mine. Not that I regret a thing, but I know what it is to stand against the world with only love on your side. I remember the night I crept back into the house by dawn, my dress stiff with mud and my hair wild as the brambles on this bush, and I wasn’t as quiet as I should have been. Nymphadora was growing within me already, a tiny seed unfurling in darkness, although I did not yet know it. Father caught me, and I was cast out. I remember the fury in my sisters’ faces. Bella hissing, “How could you…defile…yourself like that?” Narcissa shrilling that I would destroy her own good name. They said I had ruined my life, but I made a new one for myself, and I’ve been happy.
Yet there is a part of me that wants to stop her. There is a kernel of half-forgotten bigotries at the heart of it, yes, though I am loath to admit it. But more importantly, she is my daughter, and I wanted to spare her the whispered comments, the sidelong glances, the veiled snubs.
I lean against the apple tree, staring up into its laden branches as though there are answers written there, but all I see is my little girl, perched on a limb, her hair a verdant green to better hide her among the leaves.
I must accept that my little girl is a little girl no longer, and that she has made her choice.
And as I well know, it is hard to resist the apple, the pomegranate, the forbidden fruit-the chance to flee the garden of innocence for the promise of the wide strange world. And whether my daughter has taken the road to paradise or to hell, she is more like me than I ever knew.
Pairing: Andromeda/Ted, Tonks/Remus, though it's more about the mother-daughter relationship, I think.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: JKR owns
Challenge (if applicable): 500 watchers drabble challenge
Word count: 513
Edit: I have fixed an awkward sentence that slipped by my proofreading, changed the word count to reflect that, and upped the rating to PG. I had forgotten I said "hell." Not like it's likely to be a big deal on an adult comm--but it's the principle of the thing. :)
There is a certain peace to be found in a garden. I do not think either of my sisters ever understood it. Bella, if she’d had time to dally with herbs and roots in between her misplaced crusades, would have planted hellebore and aconite, waiting impatiently until they yielded up their deadly secrets, but never understanding the simple joy of the planting and the tending. As for Cissy, I doubt she would appreciate any pastime that involved getting dirt under her nails.
But I have always loved it. Kneeling in the beds, inhaling the rich and somehow pure odor of fresh-turned earth, I feel rooted, steadied. And now, with fall tucking summer softly into sleep, I am surrounded by the fruits of my labours. The rose petals have fallen, but the hips are ripening now, round and red. They will make a tasty tea; I pluck them and let them fall into my basket.
It takes my mind, for a moment, from what is troubling me: Nymphadora dropped by, not an hour ago, to tell me she was marrying Remus Lupin. “Oh, and he’s a werewolf,” she said, “but don’t worry, he’s a nice sort of werewolf, you’ll like him…”
I had hoped her life would be easier than mine. Not that I regret a thing, but I know what it is to stand against the world with only love on your side. I remember the night I crept back into the house by dawn, my dress stiff with mud and my hair wild as the brambles on this bush, and I wasn’t as quiet as I should have been. Nymphadora was growing within me already, a tiny seed unfurling in darkness, although I did not yet know it. Father caught me, and I was cast out. I remember the fury in my sisters’ faces. Bella hissing, “How could you…defile…yourself like that?” Narcissa shrilling that I would destroy her own good name. They said I had ruined my life, but I made a new one for myself, and I’ve been happy.
Yet there is a part of me that wants to stop her. There is a kernel of half-forgotten bigotries at the heart of it, yes, though I am loath to admit it. But more importantly, she is my daughter, and I wanted to spare her the whispered comments, the sidelong glances, the veiled snubs.
I lean against the apple tree, staring up into its laden branches as though there are answers written there, but all I see is my little girl, perched on a limb, her hair a verdant green to better hide her among the leaves.
I must accept that my little girl is a little girl no longer, and that she has made her choice.
And as I well know, it is hard to resist the apple, the pomegranate, the forbidden fruit-the chance to flee the garden of innocence for the promise of the wide strange world. And whether my daughter has taken the road to paradise or to hell, she is more like me than I ever knew.