Fic: Regret Nothing | Andromeda Tonks/Ted Tonks | PG-13
Title: Regret Nothing
Pairing(s): Andromeda Tonks née Black/Ted Tonks
Word Count: ~4100
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None that I’m aware of.
Summary: Regret nothing, you’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake. Snapshots from Andromeda and Ted’s lives in their early relationship.
Author's Notes: This was written for allie_meril for interhouse_fest. It was my first fest and my first time writing Andromeda/Ted! Eep! Anyway, I want to thank leigh_adams for her time and help. You’re a rock star, babe. Second, I want to say that I really really loved the prompts for this and could not resist writing for them though I think my work pales in comparison to the originals. This story is based on the poem Antilamentation by Dorianne Laux and I recommend it to everyone, ever.
June 30, 1971
It was the end of June, a magical time when students threw up their arms and rejoiced that two glorious months of summer holiday were before them. Done were the harrowing days of exams and endless cramming. Uniforms, books, and other assorted school accessories were gleefully shunted aside for denims and t-shirts. The only thing left to do was forget everything that had been learned in the past ten months.
The students of Hogwarts were no different than any other, though their curriculum was unique. Young witches and wizards descended from the Scottish highlands by way of the Hogwarts Express, winding its way toward London. The mood on the train was generally one of celebration. Free from their responsibilities, students ran wild, barely giving the prefects a moments rest from one bout of mischief to the next.
But in one particular compartment, there was very little joy.
“Don’t go back there, Dromeda,” Ted Tonks pleaded softly. “Come with me. My mum and dad will be mad for you, I know it. Stay with us.”
“I can’t,” Andromeda Black replied in the tired tone of someone who had explained her argument over and over again. “I don’t know the first thing about being Muggle, I’ve never met your parents and I certainly don’t believe that the first impression I should give them is that of a run away and be a leech on their resources.”
Ted didn’t reply. From her position against him, Andromeda felt him sigh heavily. They were stretched across the cushioned bench of their cabin, Andromeda nestled snugly between Ted’s legs--which were a bit too long for the seat-- and with his arms wrapped around her. She fiddled idly with the buttons on his coat sleeve and tried to enjoy the moment. It wasn’t something they were in a position to do often, touching so casually, and they had been trying to enjoy the moment. Maybe for the last time.
“At least my parents know about you.”
“You know it’s different.”
Silence descended again but the tension remained, a weight on them both.
Her family would never approve of Ted Tonks. He wasn’t rich or refined; he hadn’t received a full dozen OWLs or NEWTs; he wasn’t particularly ambitious--a Hufflepuff, in fact. He cut a dashing enough figure, being a tall Viking of a man, but wouldn’t know nor care about the latest robe fashions. He had no societal or economic connections to further the Black family.
He was also Muggleborn, a blight on his resume that no ‘proper’ pureblooded family could ignore. And the House of Black was nothing if not a proper pureblooded family--for certain values of ‘proper’, of course.
For a Black, a relationship with someone so lowborn, so inconsequential, so dirty, was abhorrent and expressly forbidden.
But for all her stomach turned at the thought of betraying her family, she couldn’t stand the thought of being without Ted Tonks. She’d never met someone so kind, so eager to laugh and live. And no one in all the world had ever looked at her the way he did and she loved him dearly for that.
“When will I see you again?” he whispered, entangling his fingers with her own.
It was a legitimate question. There wouldn’t be any Hogwarts for them in three months. They’d graduated and were expected to go on with their lives, get jobs and get married, just not to each other.
“I haven’t the foggiest,” Andromeda replied honestly. Slipping her family was a nightmare. Between her mother and Bellatrix, she might as well be under guard with all their questioning and ‘accompanying’ they did.
“Why don’t we split the different?” Ted asked, sounding simultaneously nervous and excited, like he’d been screwing up his courage to vocalize the idea.
Her brow furrowed and she craned her neck back to look at her boyfriend. “I don’t follow. What are you talking about?”
“We can get our own place,” he explained, gaining confidence as he went. “We’re adults now, Dromeda. Bugger your family and marry me.”
Andromeda’s face transformed into a grin and her heart burst at the proposal (as lacking in romance as it may have been) but she shook her head. “But we don’t have any money! Or jobs! Where can we live if we can’t make rent?”
“I’ll get one! I have interviews, Dromeda! I’ll get a job and save until I have enough for a flat and a big gaudy ring for you.” Now that he’d put the idea out there, Ted dedicated the full force of his conviction to it. “Just give me the chance and say you’ll marry me.”
“Fine.” Andromeda twisted around to face Ted, grinning. “Just to give you a chance to prove me wrong, I will marry you, Ted Tonks. Gladly.”
And then she kissed him and there was silence in the compartment once again.
~ * ~
August 14, 1971
“What, pray tell, is this?” a voice like a whip lashed out, striking terror in the hearts of all that heard it.
Andromeda’s attention snapped to her mother, the book of poetry she’d been reading falling, forgotten to her lap. Under her mother’s cold gaze, she felt the temperature of the library drop several degrees.
In Druella Black’s hand was a piece of unique paper, thin and bleached white but for the faint horizontal blue lines that crossed it. There was nothing like it in the Wizarding world; even the poorest witch would use blank parchment.
But Andromeda knew that Ted didn’t have access to parchment nor did he probably care. Paper ripped from a Muggle notebook was good enough for him, as long as it held the words he wanted to transcribe.
Andromeda rather liked that about Ted.
“I have no earthly clue, Mother,” she answered with a bald-faced lie and steeled herself for what was to come.
There was only one reason why Ted would owl her directly at the family manor. She hoped that the letter said what she hoped, that she would finally be free of this place and these people that suffocated her.
She had been waiting patiently, playing the good daughter for the crowd. Without a hint of change, Andromeda had slipped back into her life at Black Manor, being the same quiet and demure daughter that society recalled and expected. At dinners, she listened to her family proclaim the dominance of the Wizarding race over all others and nodded politely at Bellatrix and Rodolphus’ raving over their precious Lord Voldemort. She’d let suitors come vie for her hand, never mentioning that she was already taken, body and soul.
She waited without word and with only a glimmer of hope. Loneliness pressed down on her until she felt she couldn’t breathe; at those times she would escape to the library to be away from the lies and expectations. She’d sink into a couch and read to forget until sleep claimed her.
It was draining and terrifying but finally, a light had appeared at the end of the tunnel.
All she had to do was survive her mother.
“Is this true?” Druella asked. “Are you betrothed to this Ted?” Her mother made her fiance’s name sound like something unpleasant she had found on the bottom of her shoe.
Like sharks smelling blood in the water, her sisters had slipped into the room behind Druella. While Narcissa looked horrified at the revelation, Bellatrix seemed excited at the spectacle, her eyes gleaming and lips twitching in to a sharp smile.
Andromeda had done little in her life to upset their parents in comparison to Bellatrix. It seemed that no matter how loyal to the family or how deeply she believed in their power and worked to gain more, wild Bellatrix could never match Andromeda for being a proper pureblood lady.
Andromeda reflected that it must have seemed like Christmas and Bellatrix’s birthday had come all at once, to see her in a scandal of secret betrothal.
“If you mean Ted Tonks, then yes, it’s correct.”
Narcissa gasped, recognizing the name. “But he’s Muggleborn!”
Druella remained silent but her fury showed in the wideness of her eyes and the line of her jaw. The stiffness of her body demanded an answer from Andromeda, to confirm or deny her sister’s claim. Is it true?
Andromeda stared back, unflinching and unapologetic.
“Do you intend to honor this contract?”
“To the fullest extent possible. I love-”
“I care not,” her mother said icily, cutting off any explanation. She dropped the crumbled letter at Andromeda’s feet. “Leave this house and do as you please.”
Like a switch had been flipped, Druella calmly turned her back and crossed the room to take a seat at her desk. Pulling out quill and parchment, she begun to draft a letter--almost certainly to Aunt Walburga to have her daughter’s name struck from the family tapestry--while Andromeda remained seated, conflicted.
“Leave,” Druellla snapped when it became clear that Andromeda wasn’t moving. “You are no longer my daughter and no longer of the House of Black! Your welcome has worn thin.”
Anger overcame her shock, spurring her into motion. Nodding sharply, she rose from the couch, letting the truly forgotten book of poetry fall to the floor and collected Ted’s letter.
“You’ll be off the tapestry by morning, blood traitor,” Bellatrix hissed as she passed to exit.
“Rot in hell, Bellatrix,” she snarled back with unanticipated venom.
Tears blurred her vision as she navigated the corridors but she refused to cry. She wouldn’t mourn these people that declared her dead; they wouldn’t mourn her.
Not that they needed to. It was done. She was free.
She smoothed Ted’s letter in order to read it clearly.
Dromeda,
I have a job, a flat, and a ring. It’s time that you held up your end of the bargain.
Come marry me.
Yours,
Ted
~ * ~
August 30, 1971
Instead of a honeymoon, Ted showed her the world.
Everyday they explored a new portion of Muggle London together: a new street, a new shop, there was always something to fascinate her. Some clever bit of mechanics or logic that replaced a spell Andromeda could never live without.
Until then her life had been restricted to Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and the homes of purebloods. Now, she was drunk on freedom. She asked Ted a million questions and he’d answer to the best of his ability laughing that she should have been a Ravenclaw and then pull her close for a kiss--the only way he’d found to silence her.
Today, Ted held her hand through the crowds of the Tube, guiding her toward the exit to the streets of Notting Hill.
“Where are we going?” she shouted over the hum of humanity.
She pulled at the hot fabric of the cardigan she’d borrowed from Ted’s mother, a loan until she could buy Muggle clothes of her own. It was entirely too hot for the muggy August heat, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to bare her shoulders in public. Without the aid of cooing charms, she noted, this was something she was going to have to get over.
“You’ll see!” Ted, with his booming good-natured voice, replied.
The street was no better than the station. There were far too many people around for a regular day, not to mention they were far too festive. They all seemed to be watching something in the street. Andromeda burned with curiosity; she’d never seen anything like this before. It was like a party.
Ted kept pulling her forward, glancing back and grinning like a kid in a candy shop, excited to see her reaction to whatever treat he’d found.
They had no problem moving through the crowd, people parted quickly for her towering hulk of a husband. They broke through the last of the people for a view of the street in no time, Ted letting her through first so she didn’t have to stare at his back or clamor onto his shoulders--not an experience she wanted to repeat, honestly; heights made her dizzy.
Color and music assaulted her. Women wearing merely feathers, men beating on steel drums, wave after wave of people dancing and singing. Enormous creatures made of parchment marched by, roaring at giggling children.
“It’s the Notting Hill Carnival,” Ted explained over the music. His eyes gleamed with excitement. “It happens every year, but my mum’s never let me go.”
“I can’t imagine why!” Andromeda shouted back, laughing and watching the show. The things those women could do with their hips! If her mother could only see this, she’d faint dead away. It was scandalous!
A deliciously subversive thought came to her at that. Glancing up at her husband, who was gleefully watching the dancers and tapping a beat against her arms, she began to undo buttons. It wasn’t until she was pushing the cardigan over her shoulders that he noticed.
“Dromeda?”
“I think,” Andromeda said as she pulled off the cardigan to reveal the sleeveless blouse beneath, “that if they can wear that”--she waved to the women in the parade, wearing naught but gem encrusted underwear and feathers--”then I can at least be comfortable.”
“Well, if we’re going to be wild,” Ted teased, “then would you like to dance?”
She looked again at the dancing women and the crowd that had begun to seep into the street to join them, all dancing in a way she’d never seen before. There were no steps, no turns, just a joy for life, for freedom.
Her mother would have thought Ted ungentlemanly for not protecting her from this--for egging her on--but that was the difference between Andromeda and her mother: she didn’t want to be saved.
“I’d love to.”
~ * ~
December 3, 1971
The flat was too small. Andromeda doesn’t know how people can live like this, stacked on top of each other with walls like paper and not a moments peace. There was no air to breathe, no space to stretch out and think. It stifled her.
She used to escape by taking walks but the weather finally made a turn for the worse so instead she spendt her days pacing and cleaning, scrubbing like a house-elf at grit no cleaning charm will displace. She cleared take-away boxes and organized Ted’s record collection alphabetically, driving him mad when he can’t find his Stones album.
Winter cooped them in, their explorations waned and tension grew.
“Dromeda,” Ted started, exasperation clear in his voice, “I thought I asked you not to move the things on my desk. I can’t find the Drockwell papers.”
“Oh, they’re in the top left drawer with the rest of your files.” Her reply was accompanied by a brittle smile. “I thought I’d help bring some organization to your work. You’ll thank me later.”
Shaking his head, Ted yanked open the drawer, searching for the file.
“I found everything fine before you had to fix it,” he muttered.
Head snapping to glare at her husband, Andromeda retorted: “Well, maybe I couldn’t stand to look at that disaster a moment longer.”
“Then look at something else!” Ted finally snapped, done with tiptoeing around the tension and ready for a fight. “This is my area. Lord knows you’ve taken over every other inch of this place!”
“Excuse me? Look at all of this!” Andromeda waved at the mismatched and worn furniture of the apartment, still serviceable but beginning to slouch towards overuse. So different from the antique mahogany that had adorned her rooms in her parents’ home. “Would I choose any of this? It’s all from your parents’ garbage!”
“The word is garage!”
Furious and feeling like an idiot, Andromeda grabbed her coat and stormed out of the flat, ignoring Ted’s calls to come back.
Before she knew it, she was walking towards who knows where and crying. Sobbing, actually. All she could think about was the library at Black Manor and her sisters. For the first time in her life, she missed them. She wished that she were home instead of in this foreign place where the words sounded the same but nothing was quite right. She was tired of living off of take-away and burnt toast. She wanted food made by their house-elf, Reppy. She wanted to sleep in her own bed.
She had made a mistake.
“Andromeda!” a winded voice shouts. “Andromeda!”
And then Ted wass there, panting. He must have been freezing without his coat or gloves, his trainers only half on but he didn’t seem to care. He was looking at her, confused and concerned, like they hadn’t just been screaming at each other.
For a brief moment, Andromeda hoped he would freeze, then felt awful for thinking it at all.
“What do you want, Ted?” she asked coldly, trying to do her best impersonation of her mother.
He bent over and tried to catch his breath. She wondered how long he waited to go after her that he’s so winded and anger built up again.
“Why-why d’you leave?” he finally asked.
“Why stay?” she said sullenly, kicking at snow. “Obviously, you have no need for me.”
Shocked, Ted stood upright and shook his head in confusion. “Of course, I need you, Dromeda! Why would you think I don’t?”
“Because I’m useless!” she cried, not caring who she disturbed on the street . “I sit at home all day and do nothing. And when I do try to be useful, you’re not pleased! I’m going out of my mind, Ted, sitting in that flat and doing absolutely nothing! I don’t have a job, I don’t know anyone, all I have is you and that bloody flat that you strew trash over like it’s nothing! Like I’m nothing!”
“You’re not nothing,” Ted replied with so much love and understanding that Andromeda could barely stomach it. “I love you, Andromeda Tonks, whether you are reorganizing our closest for the fifteenth time or burning water. And I am so sorry if you’ve been unhappy.”
He approached her slowly until he was close enough to put his arms around her. “Whatever you want to do, I want you to do that. Do you want a job?”
Andromeda blinked, unsure of herself now that she’d revealed how she felt about being a house wife. She’d never considered a job and that was the crux of the problem. She’d grown up expecting to live a relatively easy life, to be married, have children, and live off inheritance. To keep herself entertained, her life would be a series of dinners, teas, and parties. And though she had married Ted and relied on his wage, she’d never considered how that plan could change. There were no fancy dinner parties or pretty dress robes but she could have a job, a career.
“Yes, I think I do,” she answered, surprising herself.
~ * ~
January 4, 1972
Andromeda tried not to look too giddy the first time she went into Gringott’s to deposit her very first paycheck. It wasn’t proper for a Black to be pleased that they were earning a working wage. Not that anyone considered her a Black these days but Andromeda had her pride. She was born of the House of Black, no matter how distasteful her family considered her life choices.
So, when the goblin Lance-Eater handed her a receipt for her deposit, Andromeda restrained herself to a nod of thanks and a very small smile.
The amount of the deposit wasn’t much, of course. Well-paying jobs were few for disowned family. No one wanted to strain their relationship with the Black family by hiring their outcast daughter. But clerical jobs were lowly enough that a lesser person could find a bit of joy in putting a Black into the position, even a deposed one. Not the dream career she’d been hoping for but it was something and it could grow to be more if she played it right.
She’d deny to her grave that there was a slight bounce to her step as she exited Gringott’s, hopping down the steps a couple at a time before turning towards the shops of Diagon Alley. She had a bit of spare money and she intended to not let it burn a hole in her pocket.
As she walked the cobbled streets, she realized that she hadn’t been to Diagon Alley as a customer in months. The only time that had ever happened before was when she’d been attending classes; during holidays, it was hard to remember a week that didn’t go by without at least one trip to the shops with Narcissa and sometimes Bellatrix. She’d walked these streets a thousand times before.
Then, as if by mere thought, Narcissa appeared in the shop Andromeda had been window shopping.
Andromeda was halfway to the door before it occurred to her that Cissa wouldn’t want to see her, wouldn’t greet her with a bright smile and a hug.
So, instead, she watched.
Her little sister was stunning in tailored light-blue robes, a vision of sophistication that Andromeda remembered used to be herself. Now, she wore denims and a jumper with knit mittens and hat--Christmas gifts from her mother-in-law. Ted reassured her that nothing could make her look unsophisticated with her heavy-lidded eyes and lustrous hair, but she knew that if Narcissa saw her, she’d sniff in disdain.
And with a start, Andromeda realized that she didn’t much care. Looking through the window into her previous life of tailored robes and holiday balls didn’t incite the panging regret that she thought it would. Ted thought she was beautiful. She was rather comfortable in her denims, and she had some coin in her pocket that she’d earned without any help from her name. She’d seen things, done things, that Narcissa couldn’t even imagine.
She was content.
Grinning, Andromeda stepped away from the shop and continued on her way, considering whether she wanted a new novel to read or if the sale on newt eyes was worth a look.
~ * ~
September 14, 1972
“Oh Merlin, this is awful!” she cringed and pushed away her pint in disgust.
Ted looked at his own pint, the same as what Andromeda had and shrugged before taking another drink and pulling his wife’s discarded beer toward himself.
“Well, if that’s how you feel about it, more for me,” he said with a grin.
“All yours, love.” Andromeda turned her attention to the basket of onion rings at their table, selected the least soggy option and took a bite.
“If you’re not careful there, Andi,” began one half of their company, “you’ll be Side-Apparating him home.”
“Oh bollocks!” Ted exclaimed with a laugh. “You’re full of it, Frank. I can handle my liquor. You should be apologizing to poor Alice for having to drag your sorry arse home tonight.”
As the good-natured bickering continued, Andromeda traded a look with the round-faced blond across from her. The woman rolled her eyes indulgently and took an onion ring of her own. Then she settled in to listen to her husband defend his honor.
With a poorly hidden grin, Andromeda too sat back to enjoy the moment, playing with the loose buttons of the jacket she’d stolen from Ted. It was one of those perfect nights, when anything that happened, even if it was horrible was somehow made better by the company; in this case, an Auror couple that she’d met while filing in the MLE.
The beer may have been, awful, Ted may have knocked their first batch of onion rings to the floor, and Andromeda maybe had a coughing fit every time someone with a cigarette passed by but it was all just fine. They were there to relax, to just be.
~ * ~
June 30, 1973
Every moment of her life became clear that fateful day in St. Mungo’s maternity ward. Every lie and glory of her life was thrown into sharp relief and then dulled in comparison to the tuft-haired wonder that the Healers laid in her arms.
“What are we going to call her?” Ted, the beaming new father, asked from her bedside. He looked at the brand new baby girl like she was the most amazing and terrifying gift a person could ever receive.
“Nymphadora,” Andromeda said quietly as she stroked her baby’s delicate little hand.
Ted scoffed fondly. “She’s going to hate that.”
She nodded. “Maybe, but that’s who she is. Nymphadora Tonks.”
“Well,” Ted sighed, knowing her mind had been made up, “when you say it like that, how can I say no?”
The grin Andromeda gave her husband was elated, exhausted, and tinged, just slightly, with disbelief. What had she done to deserve all of this? This husband that doted, this life she hadn’t dreamed of, this child she couldn’t wait to know. Why, of all people, had she been so lucky? How did she stumble her way into this?
But if every mistake she’d made had carried her here, she thought, then how could she regret a single moment?