Beautiful Misbehaviour | George Weasley

Chapter 6

Christmas was a sombre affair. Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora, who insisted on being referred to only by Tonks, appeared on her mother's doorstep on Christmas Eve with black news. The witch had a hand on her stomach and a grim expression.

Artemis made herself scarce while the two witches spent their time together having hushed conversations. She spent most of her time holed up in the brewing room, working on a Mandrake Restorative Draught for Sturgis Podmore. According to Miss Jones, his condition hadn't changed, and he was consistently doing absolutely nothing. 

The night the two men had been injured had ended rather quickly after Kingsley's offer. Artemis had barely nodded her assent when Andromeda had begun tugging her out of the room. The two of them had remained silent until they were situated in Andromeda's kitchen, a steaming pot of tea between them. 

That had been when the older witch explained that she was, in fact, not a healer but the next best thing. She'd taken Madame Pomfrey's Advanced Healing class in her sixth and seventh year before she'd run away with her husband, but she'd never continued her studies. 

But until Artemis, she'd been the best they had as Madame Pomfrey had turned down their offer to stay at Hogwarts where she believed herself most suited to help the students. 

Artemis stirred the draught counter-clockwise slowly, staring down at the bubbling potion, her mind on the lessons Pomfrey had taught her. She only knew as much as she did because of the climate of her seventh year. In sixth year, the class she'd taken with the mediwitch had been more to do with physical injuries and not magical. Artemis would bet her wand that Advanced Healing would have continued on that vein if the Carrows hadn't been instated. 

She blinked hard, trying to dispel the image of Anthony panting and in pain from her mind. 

The ladle she'd been stirring with clattered against the cauldron as a tremor began in her fingers. Artemis clasped the hand to her chest and heaved in a breath. She couldn't afford to fall apart; there were too many people who would need her help soon. 

"All right, kid?" The voice came from the doorway behind Artemis, causing her to jump violently. 

She spun around to face Andromeda's daughter. Tonks had a concerted expression on her face and a hand on her slightly protruding stomach. 

Artemis unclenched her fingers and shook out her hand, "I'm fine."

"I heard Kingsley's trying to recruit you," Tonks's voice was neutral, but her eyes narrowed slightly as if she disapproved. 

"Something like that, I suppose," Artemis felt thoroughly scrutinized. Her hand tingled, and she frowned down at it, itching to cast a Diagnostic Charm to understand the tremor. She continued absent-mindedly, rubbing at her knuckles, "I'm not much of a fighter."

"I remember you, you know," that got Artemis's attention, "seventh year for me, probably first or second for you. You were the kid that I ran into outside of the kitchens."

Artemis's eyes widened, "That was you?"

Tonks's smile was wry, "I suppose the blonde isn't quite as bold. But what I mean to say is ... don't let yourself become too absorbed in all this. This war isn't your responsibility. I can't stand the thought of more children — "

The older witch broke off and rubbed at her jaw, staring out the window at the snowy landscape. 

Artemis's eyes wandered to the swell of Tonks's stomach and felt immeasurably guilty, "I understand, but you won't be able to change my mind. I think I made it up years ago without even realizing."