When She Spoke (Marauders Era)

Epilogue

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August First, 1976

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Andromeda never got a baby shower. Once she finally told her parents about Edward Tonks, about the baby, and about the life the she'd kept hidden for so long- so long, and finally moved in with Teddy, there was never enough money for anything nice, let alone parties of any sort. Not that she minded- the independent, curly-haired young woman never had much of an appetite for parties, and didn't mind sitting in peace with her husband in the weeks before labor rather than hosting gatherings.

All that mattered anymore was that she was happy... and she was.

It had been a spring wedding ("It's the most beautiful place I've ever been," Lark had commented. "And you really are beautiful people."). Andromeda had thought in the weeks previous that she would cry tears of happiness as she walked down the aisle. She didn't. It seemed impossible to shed a single tear when she waltzed towards her groom, for she knew that she was walking towards the rest of her life; the rest of her life was looking fantastic, as far as she could tell.

Fantastic was Edward Tonks. Her wide-eyed, tall husband was the most caring man she'd ever known. He did all of the cleaning around the house (he told her that he enjoyed it... she didn't believe him for a second), and always left little notes on her bedside table when he had to leave early for work. Ted made a living at the local bakery. His hands were always rough from the wooden spoons; she loved catching him unexpectedly by slipping hers into his and pecking him on the cheek. He never complained about her playing piano too early in the morning, never left the post out, and never called her 'Andromeda'. It was always "'Dromeda" with him, and she loved the way it sounded when he said it.

It was only the day her daughter was born that Andromeda actually did cry tears of happiness.

The little girl was born with big blue eyes- so blue that they matched the hospital sheets. It only took a few minutes for the nurses to notice that her eyes were changing. First, they were a deep chocolate brown, then bubblegum pink. The nurse, baffled and shocked, had looked to the couple helplessly.

"Metamorphagus," Ted had explained for her, practically beaming with pride.

He was quite clever, that man.

Lark and Sirius were the first people allowed into the room. The small, dark-haired girl was breathless and flushed, barely noticing as James, Ted's parents, and one of Andromeda's seventh-year friends shoved past her.

"They wouldn't let us in!" she exclaimed softly, eyes locked on the baby in her older friend's arms. Smiling and clearly impressed, Sirius looked down at her.

"She hit security with Arresto Momentum."

"Seriously?" Ted gaped.

She ignored him, though, and weaseled her way past the nurse to peer over Mrs. Tonk's shoulder at the infant, who was making quiet gurgling noises.

"She's so beautiful," Lark whispered, reaching out to touch the baby and gasping as it clenched its delicate fingers around her pinky.

Andromeda watched slyly as Mrs. Tonks handed her the baby, which she held comfortably, yet with such cautiousness that any passerby might think that the object swaddled in a blanket was an uncooked egg.

"Lark, how would you like to be godmother?" she said thoughtfully.

She looked up from the infant, eyes full of joy, "I'd love to!"

Sirius grinned, and began to laugh.

"Congratulations!" he rested a hand on her shoulder. Lark nodded wordlessly, averting her eyes back to the child. She waited in silence for him to retract his hand, but before she knew it, his arm was slinking around her small shoulders, and she was leaning into his chest happily. The infant in her arms sighed contently, rapping its soft, chunky fist on her arm. "You let it all go, remember?" Sirius whispered in her ear, and she smiled to herself.

"Yeah."

He pulled back a tad to look down at the baby, a haze in his eyes that made her melt in a way that she couldn't quite describe, yet wanted to push down and out with all her might.

"You let it go-" the grey-eyed boy squeezed her shoulder, "to make room for this."

Lark wanted to tell herself that it was worth it, but there was cold, suffocating doubt flooding her mind every moment. At the same time, though, there was always an ever-burning, growing chance that it was.