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Author: Author by Night Story: Beholders Rating: Teens Setting: DH-interview Status: Completed Reviews: 1 Words: 20,690
July 1996
Andromeda was not an official member of the Order; during the first war, she and Ted hadn’t known about it initially, despite two of their friends being members, and by the time they learned about it they had a daughter to consider. This time around, Andromeda hadn’t approved of Dumbledore dictating what Sirius did. It should have been a family matter, and she didn’t think she would ever not blame him a little for Sirius’s death, despite her daughter’s attempts to defend him. Still, Andromeda felt she should do something to help — she believed them far more capable of fighting than the Ministry, which had Death Eaters living in all of its pockets. So when Dora told her the Order needed a new home, she gave them one. It was her way of being in the Order without having to be in the Order. Sometimes she even prepared tea for them. Andromeda insisted she wasn’t being kind or generous — it was just the proper thing to do. The good feeling it gave her had nothing to do with it. Or so she tried telling Ted. He laughed and said, “That’s my stoic serpent.” She told him to stop badgering” her. In-jokes were their “thing,” if they were the sort of couple inclined to have a “thing.” Andromeda could tell that the Order was suffering emotionally; they’d lost Emmeline just a few weeks after losing Sirius. Remus and Dora hadn’t recovered well at all; Andromeda knew that, because they were obviously trying very hard to act otherwise. Dora was clumsier and chirpier than ever, and Remus was strangely clipped about his feelings, even by Remus’s standards. Andromeda knew they were both hanging by a thread, and it was just a matter of time before it came crashing down on them. Perhaps that was also why she insisted the Order have a stable place to meet. Stability helped keep people together. Andromeda wasn’t sure she understood why her daughter had to fall in love with a werewolf — it just seemed like a sure way to complicate her life, and being related to Sirius and Bellatrix had complicated it enough. But she liked Remus better as a person than the last bloke Dora had dated. More importantly, she would always see him as the man who’d given Sirius back to them, if for much too short a time. And yet it was clear their relationship, too, was hanging by a thread. They went from cuddly to stiff within moments sometimes, and Remus would leave with little explanation. Andromeda knew much of the cause; their relationship had been founded on Sirius. He was their anchor, their cause, their means. No wonder they were lost. But it wasn’t just that. Death tended to remind you of your own dark side. Andromeda had gone through the same thing she suspected Remus was going through. The problem of association, of knowing who you were a lot like. Even the day Bellatrix killed Sirius, Andromeda could hardly look in the mirror because she knew who was staring back, taunting her. Then there was that ever-nagging realization that you might have been no better, might still not be that much better. But being a Slytherin, Andromeda was able to shrug those feelings aside, tell herself there was no point in being ashamed of something beyond her control. Remus, on the other hand, took those feelings a few extra levels. Andromeda and Ted were in the room when Dumbledore announced it. They’d just been passing through — maybe, though, the timing was intentional. Dumbledore probably suspected Remus hadn’t told Dora. But she needed to know, and she needed her parents there for the news. What a wise but stupid man. “And lastly,” Dumbledore began after reviewing something Andromeda had missed, “Remus has an announcement.” Remus looked at Dora, then at Dumbledore. “Er — can — I —” “Just tell us, Remus,” Dora said wearily. “I did want to tell you before. We’ll talk more about it later, I promise.” Dora raised her eyebrows. Remus stood up. “Although not immediately, soon I will be going away for a while.” “What?” Dora stood as well. Severus was smirking. “Some noble journey to discover yourself, I suppose? Being a lone wolf now?” “Actually, in a sense, I am,” Remus replied. Molly looked stunned. “Remus, if this is about Sirius and Emmeline, we’re hurting too!” Fleur nodded. “We ‘ave a saying in French—” Molly interrupted her. “You shouldn’t run away from your problems like this. I’ve been where you are, but it won’t do you any favours if you wander away.” “It isn’t about Sirius and Emmeline,” Remus said with a sad smile. “Though I do appreciate you trying to keep me from isolating myself out of deep, emotional grief. No, I’m going on a mission. You all may have heard of Fenrir Greyback.” Everyone shuddered. “I’m going to be spying on his pack.” Andromeda had not anticipated this development. Dora rounded on Remus like a very angry vulture. “You’re doing what?” “Dora—” “You can’t do that! He bit you! He’ll kill you!” “I know what I’m doing. I can convince them how much I’ve suffered at the hands of humans…” “You are human.” “Not to Umbridge. Or Greyback, for that matter. He’s convinced werewolves are super-humans, as opposed to sub-human. There’re rumours he’s even attacking outside of full moons now.” Dora laughed. “And you’re going to what, do the tango with him?” “I’m going to spy and collect information.” “And transform with them?” “Yes. Dora, this is no different from the time you metamorphosed as Bellatrix and sneaked into the Malfoy Manor.” Andromeda couldn’t stop herself. “Excuse me?” “Not now,” Ted whispered, but his jaw had tightened. “It was one time, and I told you before the fact. I even let you come along!” “And if I’d told you not to, would that have stopped you?” “This is different, Remus, and you know it — or you would have told me. When were you going to?” “When it was a good time.” “Which would be?” “The night before I left,” Remus admitted. Bill let out a low whistle. “Wrong answer, mate.” “Dumbledore helped me plan this, and he knows what he’s doing,” Remus added. “You said the same goddamn thing about Sirius!” Dora shouted. “Look how well that turned out for him!” Dora stormed off; Remus, for some reason, did not go after her, which infuriated Andromeda. How could he just stand there with his mouth half-open? No one was looking at Dumbledore or Remus, so Andromeda took it upon herself to address both of them. “Stop playing the martyr,” she said flatly. “Mrs. Tonks—” Dumbledore began. “—you ought to leave. You and your little organisation are only here on my invitation, which I have revoked for today.” “Very well,” Remus said with a sigh. “I’m… very sorry.” Andromeda clucked her tongue in response. When everyone had left, Andromeda went into Dora’s old bedroom. It was the first time she’d noticed that Dora had kept her old stuffed animals there. Dora was holding one of them, a stuffed unicorn she’d won at a Muggle carnival, but she wasn’t crying. “Do you want to talk about it?” Andromeda asked, sitting on her bed. “He’s been so distant lately,” Dora said sadly. “I should have known he was planning something stupid.” “Speaking of which, how could you not tell me you pretended to be—” “Please, Mum, not now.” Andromeda closed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll lecture you another time.” “He’s going to end things between us.” “What makes you think that?” “I read in Witch Weekly once that if a man takes you for a walk in the park, he thinks you should just be friends. Tea at a diner, he’s shagging a co-worker or your sister. He wants to have a conversation at night… he’s fighting demons and think you’d be better off without him.” “Witch Weekly’s rubbish, Dora. You’re clever enough to know that.” “So’s The Quibbler, yet a few months back, it was the truest of them all.” Andromeda had almost done the same thing for Ted. No. To Ted. However, she’d known it wouldn’t do much good; her family already had an evil eye on him. More importantly, she needed him. He needed her. Andromeda couldn’t hurt someone she loved so much. But the thing that had always given comfort to Andromeda, when she’d questioned his relationship with her daughter, was how kind and brave Remus seemed. The trouble with kind and brave people was that they sometimes failed to understand that some things weren’t meant to be sacrificed.
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