["Kaleidoscope" update] Clearing the Table
What? Another one? Well, sort of -- this installment is actually a revision and slight expansion of two of my very oldest R/T ficlets. (And if anyone who has read my later DH stories is wondering why Andromeda and Remus are getting along so well here, don't worry; there's another story coming that will take care of that. ;) )
Clearing the Table (2914 words | PG)
Andromeda had always hoped that Nymphadora would bring someone special home for dinner someday, but when that day comes, her daughter’s choice of guest is quite a shock.
Note: This story is largely based on two ficlets that were originally posted at rt_challenge in January 2007, Absolutely, Positively, Completely Sure and Clearing the Table. However, this version has been updated to fit into the DH-compliant Kaleidoscope timeline -- so, most notably, it's no longer an engagement announcement!
Clearing the Table
Nymphadora, busy filling her plate with a second helping of roast beef, potatoes, and vegetables, gave a happy little sigh. “Dad, you have no idea how much I’ve missed your cooking.”
Andromeda smiled at her daughter. Nymphadora was still too thin, but she looked brighter than she had in weeks. Months, really. Even the garish pink hair was a welcome sight. “It’s nice to have you home for Sunday lunch,” she said. “We haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Yeah, I know.” Nymphadora looked slightly guilty. “I’ve been busy with work, and...things.”
“Right,” said Ted cheekily, “those things will really fill up your schedule.”
Andromeda shot him a quelling look. The mere fact that Nymphadora had been at Hogwarts that awful night, when Death Eaters attacked the school and Albus Dumbledore was killed, told them all they needed to know about their daughter’s involvement in Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix.
“Actually, I’d like to come again for dinner, sometime soon.”
“Of course, love, any time,” said Andromeda automatically, before she glanced up and saw the all-too-familiar look of stubborn determination on her daughter’s face. Clearly, there was an ulterior motive at play.
She put down her fork and waited.
Nymphadora took a fortifying swallow of wine. “And I’d like to bring someone else.”
Ted’s eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. “Oh? Who would that be?”
Nymphadora smiled, and-to Andromeda’s utter shock-her cheeks turned faintly pink. “Do you remember me talking about my friend Remus Lupin?”
Andromeda narrowed her eyes in sudden speculation. “Someone from work, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” said Nymphadora. “Not from the Ministry, though.”
Ted began to grin. “Are you trying to tell us something, Dora?” he asked, reaching for the butter.
“Well, yes.” Nymphadora went even pinker, but an enormous smile burst forth. “Remus and I are seeing each other.”
“My goodness,” said Andromeda, blinking. Nymphadora had never before shown the slightest sign of romantic interest in anyone. She watched her daughter’s smile turn soft and wistful around the edges and shook her head in amazement. “How long has this ‘seeing each other’ been going on?”
“A little more than a week,” said Nymphadora. “But I’ve known him for nearly two years.”
Ted chuckled. “This must be pretty serious if you’re inflicting us on the poor man after only a week, then.”
Andromeda expected Nymphadora to fire a joke right back at Ted, but she only sat very straight in her chair. “It is.”
Never mind romantic dreaminess-this centred, calm certainty was yet another side to her daughter that Andromeda hardly recognised.
“You’ll like him, both of you,” said Nymphadora, earnestly. “He’s kind, and funny, and clever. And excellent at Defence-he leads missions for, erm, things.”
“Sounds like a good sort,” said Ted.
“He’s conscientious, too.” Nymphadora grimaced. “Maybe a little too conscientious. There are some things I wouldn’t have brought up until after you’d had a chance to get to know him, but Remus insisted I tell you today. Remember that-he insisted that I tell you.”
Andromeda exchanged a look with Ted. “Tell away, then,” she said guardedly.
“Well, he’s a bit older than I am. About thirteen years.”
Andromeda frowned. “That’s quite a bit older!”
Nymphadora rolled her eyes. “It’s not that much. When I’m ninety and he’s a hundred and three, there will hardly be any age difference at all.”
“What does this Lupin do for a living?” Ted took up the interrogation.
“That’s another thing.” A little crease appeared on Nymphadora’s forehead. “It’s not Remus’s fault, but he does have a bit of trouble finding steady work, actually. Right now, he’s spending all his time on-things-and believe me, our side is that much better off for it.”
“What do you mean, trouble finding steady work?” Andromeda leaned forward. What was Nymphadora getting herself into?
“It’s something he can’t help, Mum. He works very hard when someone gives him a chance. But he’s got a medical condition that-well-it means most people won’t hire him.”
This was just getting worse and worse. “An older man with a medical condition? Nymphadora, are you certain this is someone you want to be involved with?”
“Yes, Mum.” Nymphadora’s eyes flashed; for an instant, she looked every inch a Black. “I am absolutely, positively, completely certain. For one thing, I love him. And anyway, his condition isn’t something that really affects him most of the time-people just have an awfully closed-minded attitude...”
“What is his condition, Dora?” Ted pressed. Even he was concerned now, Andromeda was gratified to see.
Nymphadora took a deep breath. “Lycanthropy.”
Ted looked surprised enough, but Andromeda felt cold panic. “My baby girl,” she whispered, gripping the arms of her chair. “Are you telling me you’re willing to risk your health and safety to date a werewolf?”
“Mum, Dad, listen to me.” Nymphadora called up what must be her best intimidate-the-suspect glare. “I am an Auror. Remus is an expert at Defensive magic. We know what we have to do to keep him from being a danger at the full moon. He’s got a secure place to go into isolation, and he’ll be taking Wolfsbane potion-I’ve learned to brew it for him. Besides, Remus has been transforming for more than thirty years, and he’s never hurt anyone, even before Wolfsbane.”
Ted was nodding slowly, looking thoughtful.
“Dumbledore trusted him enough to hire him to teach at Hogwarts,” Nymphadora persisted.
Andromeda stared. “That’s why his name was familiar. He was in the Prophet, wasn’t he? ‘Hogwarts teacher exposed as werewolf!’”
“That’s not the only reason, Mum,” said Nymphadora softly. “You probably heard his name from Sirius.”
Sirius. Andromeda had to look away for a moment. Her favourite cousin had died before his name had been cleared-and before she had even known he was innocent.
Nymphadora’s eyes held an apology, but she pressed on. “Remus was one of Sirius’s best mates at school. They were always together. I know from a story Sirius told that you’ve even met him at least once, at Fortescue’s ice cream parlour one summer.”
Andromeda frowned again, trying to think. “I’m not sure I remember meeting any Remus Lupin.”
Nymphadora smiled, a little sadly. “Sirius called him Moony.”
“Clever nickname,” Andromeda observed. She fiddled with a teaspoon, casting back through memories that she’d tried, for years, to root out. “I think I might remember a friend called Moony. He was a little quiet, but he had a razor-sharp sense of humour.”
Nymphadora reached over and squeezed her hand. “That’s Remus, all right.” Then, suddenly solemn again, she looked straight into Andromeda’s eyes. “He was like a brother to Sirius. He’s a good man. Won’t you at least meet him before you start worrying?”
“Well,” she said neutrally, “I’d certainly like to have him here for dinner. How about Friday?”
“Erm.” Nymphadora gave an oddly weary half-smile. “Friday’s not so good, actually.”
“Moon a bit too full that night, is it?” Ted shot their daughter a sharp look, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “We’d better get ourselves a lunar chart, I see.”
Andromeda pressed her lips together. “Wednesday, then?”
“Wednesday should be fine. I’ll check with Remus and let you know.” Nymphadora drank another swallow of wine and held the wineglass, twisting it in her hands.
Feeling her way carefully, Andromeda spoke, keeping her voice low. “It’s not only the physical danger, you know. There are certain-social consequences to lycanthropy.”
Nymphadora looked up, and the shadow of pain in her eyes was another surprise in this day of surprises. “Do you think I don’t know that? Remus deserves so much more than what he’s been able to have. He does have good friends, though, people who appreciate him for himself. So we’ll simply have to choose our social circumstances carefully.”
Andromeda couldn’t help shaking her head, just a little. This all sounded like it would be much more difficult than her daughter was acknowledging.
“Mum,” said Nymphadora firmly. “There’s no way I’m going to give this up.” A wry grin emerged. “I’ve just spent the last year convincing Remus that I want to be with him. Compared to that, I’m afraid your arguments don’t stand a chance.”
. * . * .
Andromeda checked on the creamed potatoes as Ted gave the roasting chicken a final baste. It was Wednesday evening, just past seven, but she didn’t really expect Nymphadora to be on time.
Except that, right then, the front door swung open. “Wotcher! We’re here!”
“Hullo, Dora!” Ted banged the oven door closed and hurried out to greet them. Andromeda dried her hands on a tea towel and followed right behind, trying to ignore the cold knot of anxiety that had lodged in her stomach.
Nymphadora was wearing a raucous orange jumper that thoroughly clashed with her bubblegum-pink hair, but she was beaming, and Andromeda had to admit that she looked rather lovely as she performed the introductions. “This is Remus Lupin. Remus, my parents, Ted and Andromeda Tonks.”
Lupin turned out to be tall, and quite thin. Andromeda knew the man was only as old as Sirius, but his greying hair and the lines on his face made him look older than he should. In contrast to Nymphadora’s riot of colour, he was sensibly dressed in a pair of brown trousers and a blue shirt, the collar of which had clearly frayed and been repaired with a very precise Mending Charm.
Andromeda wondered what it meant that his sewing charmwork was so careful-and what it meant that he hadn’t chosen to use an Appearance Charm to hide the repairs altogether.
After a firm handshake and a brief smile, Lupin presented Andromeda with a large bunch of flowers. They were all garden flowers, she noted, mostly daisies and zinnias. But the arrangement was tasteful, and at least he had the sense not to waste money he didn’t have on a florist’s bouquet.
She thanked him, using her best Black manners, and carried the flowers into the kitchen to find a vase.
. * . * .
Dinner was unexpectedly pleasant. Andromeda could feel Nymphadora watching her, but she was careful to be nothing less than gracious toward her daughter’s guest. And Lupin actually proved to be a most interesting conversationalist. He had things to say about a whole range of topics, often with a touch of dry humour, and he was even better at asking the rest of them questions to keep the discussion going. Like most people, Lupin was curious about Ted’s work as a technician for the Wizarding Wireless Network. But even Andromeda found herself telling him quite a bit about Persephone Greengrass’s interior spellwork and decorator business, where she kept the accounts.
Eventually, however, they all seemed to have finished eating, and there was a lull in the conversation.
Andromeda smiled around the table. “Why don’t you three go and sit in the living room while I clear away these things?”
“May I give you a hand?” Lupin offered.
Andromeda studied him for a moment. “Thank you, Remus, that would be nice.”
“Oh, I’ll help too,” said Nymphadora immediately.
But Andromeda shook her head, smiling. “I think two of us are enough, love. Go and keep your father company.”
Nymphadora hesitated. Andromeda saw her daughter’s eyes dart to Lupin, who gave her a slight smile and a tiny nod. Apparently reassured, Nymphadora followed Ted out of the dining room.
Andromeda drew her wand and began stacking the plates to levitate them into the kitchen. Lupin watched for a moment to see what her strategy was and then rounded up the glasses and silverware. He filled the sink with hot water and soap and supervised as the dishes washed and rinsed themselves. Andromeda caught the clean dishes one by one with a quick Drying Charm and sent them back to their places in the cupboard.
They worked in silence for a few minutes, but eventually Lupin turned to face her. The last few dishes, left to themselves, hovered patiently in the soapy water.
“I imagine you must have had quite a shock when Nymphadora told you we were seeing each other,” he said, “with me being what I am.” He straightened his shoulders. “I want to assure you that Nymphadora’s safety and well-being are my highest priority.”
The cold knot in Andromeda’s stomach tightened. No matter how personable a dinner guest this man might be, he was still a werewolf-dangerous to her daughter’s future on more than one level.
“If you really believed that,” she said sharply, “you would keep your distance and leave Nymphadora alone.”
She expected Lupin’s reaction to be angry, or defensive, or hurt. She didn’t expect him to nod slowly and meet her gaze with a sober, forthright expression.
“I used to think that as well,” he said. “All last year.”
Andromeda stared, not bothering to hide her surprise. “What changed your mind?”
“Two things.” His smile was wry. “One was pressure from some dear friends of mine-do you know Molly and Arthur Weasley?”
“Of course,” she replied. “They're older, but we were at Hogwarts together for a while.”
“Well,” said Lupin, looking slightly embarrassed, “they worked out that Nymphadora and I had feelings for each other, even though I was trying to stay away.” He sighed. “They argued with me all year, insisting that the precautions I always take at the full moon would be adequate to keep Nymphadora safe even if we were...together. I refused to listen at first, but eventually I came to see that they were right.”
“How did Molly and Arthur know all this about you two?” Andromeda’s eyes widened. “They’re not-surely they’re not in the Order of the Phoenix!”
A sudden gleam of humour appeared in Lupin’s eye, and he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think Dumbledore would have wanted me to answer that question.”
Andromeda shook her head, feeling rather floored. Molly Prewett, the sniffy but timid Gryffindor prefect, and absent-minded Arthur Weasley, in a secret society fighting the Dark Lord? Talking a werewolf into courting my daughter?
“Whatever precautions you take, though,” she persisted, “the risk is not zero.”
The gleam of humour disappeared, leaving Lupin looking very tired. “You’re right. It’s never zero-especially if we consider possible social consequences as well as physical danger.” He sighed again. “So, even with the Weasleys making their case, I wouldn’t have changed my mind, if not for the second reason.”
“And what was that?”
Now the lines in his thin face seemed even more deeply etched, and he looked away for the first time. “My insistence that a relationship could never be possible was making Nymphadora terribly unhappy.”
Andromeda drew a sharp breath as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “You’re telling me that’s what was upsetting her all last year? She was pining after you?”
He smiled, a rueful smile. “Well, she was sad about Sirius too, of course, and her Auror assignment in Hogsmeade put her in the path of dementors far too often. And there’s always Voldemort to worry about. But a lot of it was my fault, I’m afraid. So I-” He shook his head. “I just couldn’t go on letting her feel so unhappy and alone. Not when Molly and Arthur had made me see that the physical risk was actually very small.”
Andromeda gave him a searching look. “You must have been unhappy too, last year, if you’ve cared for Nymphadora all this time.”
Indeed, in his eyes she saw echoes of remembered longing, but he shrugged. “I was prepared for it. I’d always planned to live my life alone, and I expected that decision to be difficult sometimes. The problem was, Nymphadora never asked for that kind of pain.” He smiled, looking inward. “She really let me have it, finally-she said that I was welcome to deny myself anything I liked, but it wasn’t fair to deny her the right to make her own choice.” Now his eyes held a quiet happiness, tinged with awe. “She was right.”
Lupin turned back to the sink and started the last few dishes washing themselves again.
Andromeda watched his precise wandwork and remembered his engaging conversation at dinner. Then she thought about the reappearance of Nymphadora’s pink hair, and the look of joy that had bloomed on her daughter’s face that evening every time she caught Lupin’s eye.
She had always vowed, to Ted and to herself, that she would not make the same mistakes with Nymphadora that her own family had made with her.
After drying the last plate and sending it into the cupboard, she took a deep breath and turned to face Lupin.
“Remus, if you are truly my daughter’s choice, then I will respect that choice.”
Lupin swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Come,” said Andromeda, with a gracious smile that even her own mother would not have found lacking. “Let’s join the others.”
. * fin * .
"Kaleidoscope" series index
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Clearing the Table (2914 words | PG)
Andromeda had always hoped that Nymphadora would bring someone special home for dinner someday, but when that day comes, her daughter’s choice of guest is quite a shock.
Note: This story is largely based on two ficlets that were originally posted at rt_challenge in January 2007, Absolutely, Positively, Completely Sure and Clearing the Table. However, this version has been updated to fit into the DH-compliant Kaleidoscope timeline -- so, most notably, it's no longer an engagement announcement!
Clearing the Table
Nymphadora, busy filling her plate with a second helping of roast beef, potatoes, and vegetables, gave a happy little sigh. “Dad, you have no idea how much I’ve missed your cooking.”
Andromeda smiled at her daughter. Nymphadora was still too thin, but she looked brighter than she had in weeks. Months, really. Even the garish pink hair was a welcome sight. “It’s nice to have you home for Sunday lunch,” she said. “We haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Yeah, I know.” Nymphadora looked slightly guilty. “I’ve been busy with work, and...things.”
“Right,” said Ted cheekily, “those things will really fill up your schedule.”
Andromeda shot him a quelling look. The mere fact that Nymphadora had been at Hogwarts that awful night, when Death Eaters attacked the school and Albus Dumbledore was killed, told them all they needed to know about their daughter’s involvement in Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix.
“Actually, I’d like to come again for dinner, sometime soon.”
“Of course, love, any time,” said Andromeda automatically, before she glanced up and saw the all-too-familiar look of stubborn determination on her daughter’s face. Clearly, there was an ulterior motive at play.
She put down her fork and waited.
Nymphadora took a fortifying swallow of wine. “And I’d like to bring someone else.”
Ted’s eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. “Oh? Who would that be?”
Nymphadora smiled, and-to Andromeda’s utter shock-her cheeks turned faintly pink. “Do you remember me talking about my friend Remus Lupin?”
Andromeda narrowed her eyes in sudden speculation. “Someone from work, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” said Nymphadora. “Not from the Ministry, though.”
Ted began to grin. “Are you trying to tell us something, Dora?” he asked, reaching for the butter.
“Well, yes.” Nymphadora went even pinker, but an enormous smile burst forth. “Remus and I are seeing each other.”
“My goodness,” said Andromeda, blinking. Nymphadora had never before shown the slightest sign of romantic interest in anyone. She watched her daughter’s smile turn soft and wistful around the edges and shook her head in amazement. “How long has this ‘seeing each other’ been going on?”
“A little more than a week,” said Nymphadora. “But I’ve known him for nearly two years.”
Ted chuckled. “This must be pretty serious if you’re inflicting us on the poor man after only a week, then.”
Andromeda expected Nymphadora to fire a joke right back at Ted, but she only sat very straight in her chair. “It is.”
Never mind romantic dreaminess-this centred, calm certainty was yet another side to her daughter that Andromeda hardly recognised.
“You’ll like him, both of you,” said Nymphadora, earnestly. “He’s kind, and funny, and clever. And excellent at Defence-he leads missions for, erm, things.”
“Sounds like a good sort,” said Ted.
“He’s conscientious, too.” Nymphadora grimaced. “Maybe a little too conscientious. There are some things I wouldn’t have brought up until after you’d had a chance to get to know him, but Remus insisted I tell you today. Remember that-he insisted that I tell you.”
Andromeda exchanged a look with Ted. “Tell away, then,” she said guardedly.
“Well, he’s a bit older than I am. About thirteen years.”
Andromeda frowned. “That’s quite a bit older!”
Nymphadora rolled her eyes. “It’s not that much. When I’m ninety and he’s a hundred and three, there will hardly be any age difference at all.”
“What does this Lupin do for a living?” Ted took up the interrogation.
“That’s another thing.” A little crease appeared on Nymphadora’s forehead. “It’s not Remus’s fault, but he does have a bit of trouble finding steady work, actually. Right now, he’s spending all his time on-things-and believe me, our side is that much better off for it.”
“What do you mean, trouble finding steady work?” Andromeda leaned forward. What was Nymphadora getting herself into?
“It’s something he can’t help, Mum. He works very hard when someone gives him a chance. But he’s got a medical condition that-well-it means most people won’t hire him.”
This was just getting worse and worse. “An older man with a medical condition? Nymphadora, are you certain this is someone you want to be involved with?”
“Yes, Mum.” Nymphadora’s eyes flashed; for an instant, she looked every inch a Black. “I am absolutely, positively, completely certain. For one thing, I love him. And anyway, his condition isn’t something that really affects him most of the time-people just have an awfully closed-minded attitude...”
“What is his condition, Dora?” Ted pressed. Even he was concerned now, Andromeda was gratified to see.
Nymphadora took a deep breath. “Lycanthropy.”
Ted looked surprised enough, but Andromeda felt cold panic. “My baby girl,” she whispered, gripping the arms of her chair. “Are you telling me you’re willing to risk your health and safety to date a werewolf?”
“Mum, Dad, listen to me.” Nymphadora called up what must be her best intimidate-the-suspect glare. “I am an Auror. Remus is an expert at Defensive magic. We know what we have to do to keep him from being a danger at the full moon. He’s got a secure place to go into isolation, and he’ll be taking Wolfsbane potion-I’ve learned to brew it for him. Besides, Remus has been transforming for more than thirty years, and he’s never hurt anyone, even before Wolfsbane.”
Ted was nodding slowly, looking thoughtful.
“Dumbledore trusted him enough to hire him to teach at Hogwarts,” Nymphadora persisted.
Andromeda stared. “That’s why his name was familiar. He was in the Prophet, wasn’t he? ‘Hogwarts teacher exposed as werewolf!’”
“That’s not the only reason, Mum,” said Nymphadora softly. “You probably heard his name from Sirius.”
Sirius. Andromeda had to look away for a moment. Her favourite cousin had died before his name had been cleared-and before she had even known he was innocent.
Nymphadora’s eyes held an apology, but she pressed on. “Remus was one of Sirius’s best mates at school. They were always together. I know from a story Sirius told that you’ve even met him at least once, at Fortescue’s ice cream parlour one summer.”
Andromeda frowned again, trying to think. “I’m not sure I remember meeting any Remus Lupin.”
Nymphadora smiled, a little sadly. “Sirius called him Moony.”
“Clever nickname,” Andromeda observed. She fiddled with a teaspoon, casting back through memories that she’d tried, for years, to root out. “I think I might remember a friend called Moony. He was a little quiet, but he had a razor-sharp sense of humour.”
Nymphadora reached over and squeezed her hand. “That’s Remus, all right.” Then, suddenly solemn again, she looked straight into Andromeda’s eyes. “He was like a brother to Sirius. He’s a good man. Won’t you at least meet him before you start worrying?”
“Well,” she said neutrally, “I’d certainly like to have him here for dinner. How about Friday?”
“Erm.” Nymphadora gave an oddly weary half-smile. “Friday’s not so good, actually.”
“Moon a bit too full that night, is it?” Ted shot their daughter a sharp look, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “We’d better get ourselves a lunar chart, I see.”
Andromeda pressed her lips together. “Wednesday, then?”
“Wednesday should be fine. I’ll check with Remus and let you know.” Nymphadora drank another swallow of wine and held the wineglass, twisting it in her hands.
Feeling her way carefully, Andromeda spoke, keeping her voice low. “It’s not only the physical danger, you know. There are certain-social consequences to lycanthropy.”
Nymphadora looked up, and the shadow of pain in her eyes was another surprise in this day of surprises. “Do you think I don’t know that? Remus deserves so much more than what he’s been able to have. He does have good friends, though, people who appreciate him for himself. So we’ll simply have to choose our social circumstances carefully.”
Andromeda couldn’t help shaking her head, just a little. This all sounded like it would be much more difficult than her daughter was acknowledging.
“Mum,” said Nymphadora firmly. “There’s no way I’m going to give this up.” A wry grin emerged. “I’ve just spent the last year convincing Remus that I want to be with him. Compared to that, I’m afraid your arguments don’t stand a chance.”
. * . * .
Andromeda checked on the creamed potatoes as Ted gave the roasting chicken a final baste. It was Wednesday evening, just past seven, but she didn’t really expect Nymphadora to be on time.
Except that, right then, the front door swung open. “Wotcher! We’re here!”
“Hullo, Dora!” Ted banged the oven door closed and hurried out to greet them. Andromeda dried her hands on a tea towel and followed right behind, trying to ignore the cold knot of anxiety that had lodged in her stomach.
Nymphadora was wearing a raucous orange jumper that thoroughly clashed with her bubblegum-pink hair, but she was beaming, and Andromeda had to admit that she looked rather lovely as she performed the introductions. “This is Remus Lupin. Remus, my parents, Ted and Andromeda Tonks.”
Lupin turned out to be tall, and quite thin. Andromeda knew the man was only as old as Sirius, but his greying hair and the lines on his face made him look older than he should. In contrast to Nymphadora’s riot of colour, he was sensibly dressed in a pair of brown trousers and a blue shirt, the collar of which had clearly frayed and been repaired with a very precise Mending Charm.
Andromeda wondered what it meant that his sewing charmwork was so careful-and what it meant that he hadn’t chosen to use an Appearance Charm to hide the repairs altogether.
After a firm handshake and a brief smile, Lupin presented Andromeda with a large bunch of flowers. They were all garden flowers, she noted, mostly daisies and zinnias. But the arrangement was tasteful, and at least he had the sense not to waste money he didn’t have on a florist’s bouquet.
She thanked him, using her best Black manners, and carried the flowers into the kitchen to find a vase.
. * . * .
Dinner was unexpectedly pleasant. Andromeda could feel Nymphadora watching her, but she was careful to be nothing less than gracious toward her daughter’s guest. And Lupin actually proved to be a most interesting conversationalist. He had things to say about a whole range of topics, often with a touch of dry humour, and he was even better at asking the rest of them questions to keep the discussion going. Like most people, Lupin was curious about Ted’s work as a technician for the Wizarding Wireless Network. But even Andromeda found herself telling him quite a bit about Persephone Greengrass’s interior spellwork and decorator business, where she kept the accounts.
Eventually, however, they all seemed to have finished eating, and there was a lull in the conversation.
Andromeda smiled around the table. “Why don’t you three go and sit in the living room while I clear away these things?”
“May I give you a hand?” Lupin offered.
Andromeda studied him for a moment. “Thank you, Remus, that would be nice.”
“Oh, I’ll help too,” said Nymphadora immediately.
But Andromeda shook her head, smiling. “I think two of us are enough, love. Go and keep your father company.”
Nymphadora hesitated. Andromeda saw her daughter’s eyes dart to Lupin, who gave her a slight smile and a tiny nod. Apparently reassured, Nymphadora followed Ted out of the dining room.
Andromeda drew her wand and began stacking the plates to levitate them into the kitchen. Lupin watched for a moment to see what her strategy was and then rounded up the glasses and silverware. He filled the sink with hot water and soap and supervised as the dishes washed and rinsed themselves. Andromeda caught the clean dishes one by one with a quick Drying Charm and sent them back to their places in the cupboard.
They worked in silence for a few minutes, but eventually Lupin turned to face her. The last few dishes, left to themselves, hovered patiently in the soapy water.
“I imagine you must have had quite a shock when Nymphadora told you we were seeing each other,” he said, “with me being what I am.” He straightened his shoulders. “I want to assure you that Nymphadora’s safety and well-being are my highest priority.”
The cold knot in Andromeda’s stomach tightened. No matter how personable a dinner guest this man might be, he was still a werewolf-dangerous to her daughter’s future on more than one level.
“If you really believed that,” she said sharply, “you would keep your distance and leave Nymphadora alone.”
She expected Lupin’s reaction to be angry, or defensive, or hurt. She didn’t expect him to nod slowly and meet her gaze with a sober, forthright expression.
“I used to think that as well,” he said. “All last year.”
Andromeda stared, not bothering to hide her surprise. “What changed your mind?”
“Two things.” His smile was wry. “One was pressure from some dear friends of mine-do you know Molly and Arthur Weasley?”
“Of course,” she replied. “They're older, but we were at Hogwarts together for a while.”
“Well,” said Lupin, looking slightly embarrassed, “they worked out that Nymphadora and I had feelings for each other, even though I was trying to stay away.” He sighed. “They argued with me all year, insisting that the precautions I always take at the full moon would be adequate to keep Nymphadora safe even if we were...together. I refused to listen at first, but eventually I came to see that they were right.”
“How did Molly and Arthur know all this about you two?” Andromeda’s eyes widened. “They’re not-surely they’re not in the Order of the Phoenix!”
A sudden gleam of humour appeared in Lupin’s eye, and he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think Dumbledore would have wanted me to answer that question.”
Andromeda shook her head, feeling rather floored. Molly Prewett, the sniffy but timid Gryffindor prefect, and absent-minded Arthur Weasley, in a secret society fighting the Dark Lord? Talking a werewolf into courting my daughter?
“Whatever precautions you take, though,” she persisted, “the risk is not zero.”
The gleam of humour disappeared, leaving Lupin looking very tired. “You’re right. It’s never zero-especially if we consider possible social consequences as well as physical danger.” He sighed again. “So, even with the Weasleys making their case, I wouldn’t have changed my mind, if not for the second reason.”
“And what was that?”
Now the lines in his thin face seemed even more deeply etched, and he looked away for the first time. “My insistence that a relationship could never be possible was making Nymphadora terribly unhappy.”
Andromeda drew a sharp breath as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “You’re telling me that’s what was upsetting her all last year? She was pining after you?”
He smiled, a rueful smile. “Well, she was sad about Sirius too, of course, and her Auror assignment in Hogsmeade put her in the path of dementors far too often. And there’s always Voldemort to worry about. But a lot of it was my fault, I’m afraid. So I-” He shook his head. “I just couldn’t go on letting her feel so unhappy and alone. Not when Molly and Arthur had made me see that the physical risk was actually very small.”
Andromeda gave him a searching look. “You must have been unhappy too, last year, if you’ve cared for Nymphadora all this time.”
Indeed, in his eyes she saw echoes of remembered longing, but he shrugged. “I was prepared for it. I’d always planned to live my life alone, and I expected that decision to be difficult sometimes. The problem was, Nymphadora never asked for that kind of pain.” He smiled, looking inward. “She really let me have it, finally-she said that I was welcome to deny myself anything I liked, but it wasn’t fair to deny her the right to make her own choice.” Now his eyes held a quiet happiness, tinged with awe. “She was right.”
Lupin turned back to the sink and started the last few dishes washing themselves again.
Andromeda watched his precise wandwork and remembered his engaging conversation at dinner. Then she thought about the reappearance of Nymphadora’s pink hair, and the look of joy that had bloomed on her daughter’s face that evening every time she caught Lupin’s eye.
She had always vowed, to Ted and to herself, that she would not make the same mistakes with Nymphadora that her own family had made with her.
After drying the last plate and sending it into the cupboard, she took a deep breath and turned to face Lupin.
“Remus, if you are truly my daughter’s choice, then I will respect that choice.”
Lupin swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Come,” said Andromeda, with a gracious smile that even her own mother would not have found lacking. “Let’s join the others.”
. * fin * .
"Kaleidoscope" series index
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