Work Text:
Before
Tonks trips in her haste to reach the top of the Burrow’s rickety staircase. She should’ve been here days ago, but between work, missions from the Order, and Remus, she hasn’t had a minute to herself in the two weeks that have passed since Dumbledore’s funeral. She tries to steady herself as she falls; her hand slams into the scarred wooden door at the opposite side of the landing, sending a loud bang reverberating throughout the tiny space.
Ginny's voice answers the sound almost immediately, barely muffled thanks to how loud she yells. 'Go away!'
Now upright, Tonks smiles at Ginny’s closed bedroom door. 'I haven't even knocked yet.'
There's a beat of silence, a moment where she suspects Ginny is realising the disturbance at the other side of her door isn't caused by one of her brothers, and then, 'I don't want visitors!'
Tonks’ smile falls at once. She sighs, so quietly Ginny will never be able to hear it through the door. ‘I just want you to come outside for a few minutes.’
‘No!’
Tonks leans on the doorframe. The toe of her boot taps against the floorboard beneath her foot. ‘It's a beautiful day outside!’
‘I don't care!’
‘Will you just open the door, please?’
Bargaining. Now she's resorted to using tactics her mum used to use on her when she was still Hogwarts age. Tonks suddenly feels ancient.
‘No!’ Ginny replies again.
No, it had never worked when Mum tried that either.
Tonks sighs again. She isn't being fair, asking Ginny to achieve in two weeks what Tonks didn't manage in months, but they don't have the luxury of time anymore, and she knows from experience Ginny will hate herself if she remains locked away moping for very much longer.
‘I'll come back tomorrow.’
She doesn't expect a response but one comes anyway, so quiet that Tonks suspects she wasn't supposed to hear it all.
‘It's your time, waste it however you like.’
***
She's barely finished knocking before Ginny's reply emanates through the door.
‘No!’
Tonks is prepared for the refusal this time. She clutches the small package in her hand tighter. ‘I brought chocolate!’
‘An offering or a bribe? Remus had asked upon seeing her tuck the bar into her jacket pocket.
Tonks had shrugged. ‘Neither. It's a negotiation tactic.’
She is an Auror after all, and it's becoming clear teenagers are more difficult to deal with than dark wizards.
There's a loud thud, followed by the sound of four quick footsteps and then the door flies open.
Ginny looks better than Tonks had imagined. Her hair is washed, falling in long red waves past her shoulders, her skin is clear, and her eyes bear none of the redness or puffiness they had when Tonk saw her last; hidden in the tree line that marks the boundary of the Forbidden Forest, crying tears that had nothing to do with Dumbledore’s death.
‘If it's not Honeydukes, I'm closing the door.’
Tonks grins, holding out the bar of Honeydukes finest across the threshold. ‘Would I do that to you?’
Ginny takes the chocolate. She tears the wrapper and snaps a square off before popping it into her mouth. Her eyes close in pleasure and then she offers it back to Tonks.
She shakes her head. ‘It's all for you.’
‘I know, I'm sharing.’
Tonks chooses to accept it as the peace offering she suspects it is. She breaks off her own square of chocolate and lets it melt on her tongue.
‘Another beautiful day,’ she says cautiously once she's swallowed. ‘We could go flying?’
Ginny's face falls at the suggestion. Her knuckles turn white where they clutch the bar of chocolate and her eyes narrow, flashing dangerously.
‘Don't you have better things to do than bother me? Aren't you an Auror? I think I heard something about a dark wizard terrorising the entire country – you should probably look into that.’
Tonks doesn't let her harsh tone penetrate. It's Kingsley's voice she hears in her head, reminding her to stay calm in the face of such open hostility. She forces a smile onto her face. ‘Thanks for the tip… Right now I'm on a special mission to get my friend to leave her bedroom. I've received special intelligence that she hasn't done so all summer.’
Ginny's eyes roll back, a gesture Tonks has seen her aim at her brothers a dozen times. It's her first time being on the receiving end of it. ‘Sorry,’ Ginny doesn't sound sorry at all. ‘I'm not in the mood.’
Tonks’ sigh escapes her without permission. Her arms fold over her chest. ‘You can't mope in here forever.’ The words are so hypocritical she struggles to get them out, but Ginny needs to hear them.
Ginny's responding laugh is shrill; devoid of humour. ‘I'm not moping. I'm playing my part: heartbroken Ginny Weasley, aren't I extraordinarily convincing?’
Her long hair almost brushes the purple rug that covers most of the bedroom floor as Ginny takes a sardonic bow. Tonks’ temper threatens to surface, irritation pulling on her nerves, until Ginny rights herself and she sees the tears shining in her eyes.
She blinks them back furiously but her cover is already blown. Ginny is giving an extraordinary performance, but beneath the outward show of anger is an ocean of pain Tonks knows what it's like to drown in.
‘I’m on a mission tomorrow.’ Strictly, she shouldn't tell Ginny this, but she needs her to know she's not abandoning her when she doesn't show up. ‘I'll be here the day after.’
To her great surprise Ginny doesn't reject the promise. ‘Will you bring more chocolate?’
It feels like a victory. The first one Tonks has had since Dumbledore's funeral. ‘I'll bring something better.’
***
The door is already slightly ajar when Tonks reaches the landing. She smiles at the tiny gap which displays a slither of soft pink walls.
‘Come in,’ Ginny shouts when Tonks gives a cursory tap on the doorframe.
She shuts the door behind her, knowing it was only left open for her benefit. ‘Are you ready to love me?’
Ginny sits up on the bed, the Quaffle she'd been throwing at the ceiling and catching bounces lightly on the mattress. ‘I already love you,’ she says earnestly.
Tonks smiles as she pulls a flat, square item from her jacket, waving it in Ginny's direction. ‘Are you ready to love me even more?’
‘Is that…?’ Ginny leaps from the bed, pulling the record carefully from Tonks’ hands and examining it with wide eyes and a bright smile that Tonks hadn't dared to hope for. ‘The new Weird Sisters album!’ Her eyes flick from the orange and purple record sleeve to Tonks. ‘I really love you.’
‘Put it on,’ Tonks encourages, but Ginny is already turning to the record player on her desk. ‘I haven't listened to it yet… I waited for you.’
A pulsing beat fills the room. Tonks takes the seat in front of the desk and Ginny falls back onto the bed. They hold a silent conversation as the song progresses, giving one another their opinions with a series of clear eyebrow twitches and nods.
Ginny shoves the Quaffle under the bed as the album transitions into track two and releases Arnold from his cage, allowing the Pygmy Puff to roll around her bed in time with the music. Her smile is still in place and the sun seems to shine a little brighter through the window.
Track three is slower, a ballad. It's going to take a few listens for it to grow on either of them, so Tonks is fine with speaking over it. ‘Your mum says you went down to dinner last night.’
Ginny's head falls back against the wall. ‘Did she tell you she kicked me out of the kitchen when Kingsley and Mad-Eye showed up?’
Tonks presses her lips together, refusing to allow her smile to break free. ‘She said she asked you to go and feed the chickens.’
‘To get rid of me… Because I'm useless.’
‘You're not–’
‘I am!’ Ginny's pronouncement sounds especially harsh compared to the softness of the song playing on the record player. ‘I can't do anything to help, and no one will tell me anything. You want me to get out of this stupid room but what's the point?’
Her eyes flash with fire, daring Tonks to try and contradict her again. It clicks. The anger isn't an act, not really, it's just not directed where Tonks expected.
She remembers now, a dozen whispered conversations that she's overheard throughout the years. Snippets about a diary, possession, and the Chamber of Secrets. She's never asked Ginny about it. She's met enough victims to know they don't typically like to make it their defining personality trait.
‘I know it's frustrating.’
Ginny shoots her a look which assures Tonks she actually has no idea. She suspects Ginny might be correct. Even this past year, when every day was a struggle, Tonks still had a purpose, something worth getting out of bed for. No bar of Honeydukes is going to fulfil that need.
Ginny requires something more practical.
***
Ginny's throwing the Quaffle up at the ceiling again. Tonks can see before she reaches the top of the stairs. Her door is fully open. It's been two days since Tonks gave her the Weird Sisters album; it's still playing.
She doesn't knock this time. Ginny barely looks away from the Quaffle, just long enough to give Tonks a welcoming smile.
The song silences as soon as Tonks lifts the needle on the record. Ginny lets the Quaffle fall to the floor, looking at her expectantly.
‘Come outside.’
‘No.’
‘It wasn't a request.’
Ginny looks like she might argue. A moment passes. She sighs as she drags herself off the bed and shoves her feet into her trainers.
‘I'm only doing this because I appreciate the album,’ Ginny declares as she stomps down the stairs behind Tonks.
‘That's very gracious of you,’ she replies.
They pass through the kitchen. Molly's sitting at the table, a pile of sewing in front of her. Tonks smiles at her. Ginny doesn't.
They make their way through the backdoor. Tonks leads the way to the orchard. The trees provide some coverage from the house, some protection from Molly's watchful eye. Protection is what Tonks will need if they're discovered.
‘Well, there you go,’ Ginny opens her arms wide and spins in a circle. ‘I'm outside.’
She's obviously trying to be sarcastic but her face is turned up towards the sun and the corners of her mouth are twitching into a smile. The summer breeze ruffles the long tendrils of her hair. She looks happier than she has in weeks.
Tonks’ stinging hex hits her on the forearm.
‘Ow!’ Ginny's smile is replaced with a look of total indignation as she rubs at the red spot that's appeared on her pale skin.
Tonks grins at her. ‘You're going to have to react quicker than that.’
Ginny dodges the next flash of white light by throwing herself into the soft grass. She’s small but she's fast. She looks up at Tonks whose wand is still pointed at her. ‘I know I've been a bit of a brat, but you don't have to hex me!’
She rolls twice, narrowly avoiding Tonks’ next spell.
‘This isn't retaliation,’ Tonks says through a laugh. Ginny pushes up from the ground, brushing dirt off her jeans. ‘This is your training. Mad-Eye says wandwork doesn't win duels, staying alive long enough to cast one good spell does.’
Ginny frowns but she twirls out of the way of two stinging hexes shot at her in quick succession. ‘You're preparing me for a fight?’
Tonks shrugs. ‘Something tells me you're going to look for one whether you have permission or not. I'd rather know you're ready when you find it.’
She's confident Ginny will dodge it, so Tonks throws a stunning spell at her. Ginny grins as she twists to evade it. Her eyes are sparking with something other than anger now; they're fixed on Tonks’ wand, muscles tensed in preparation for the next onslaught.
Ginny dodges Tonks’ attacks for the next hour. When they return to the house, she smiles brightly at her mother and sits down at the kitchen table for lunch.
***
After
There's a knock on the door. It reverberates, cutting through the silence of the house. Teddy stirs but doesn't wake. Andromeda considers ignoring it; there's no one left in the world she wants to speak to.
The knock sounds again. Persistent.
She makes no guesses as to who might be on her doorstep, still the reveal surprises her. It shouldn't. This is Harry Potter's third visit to her house since the war ended. He's taking his responsibility as Godfather seriously, he promised her. It appears he meant it.
‘Hello, Mrs Tonks.’ His expression is as solemn as it was on his two previous visits as he gestures to the redheaded girl beside him. It's the first time he's brought a companion with him. ‘This is Ginny… she wanted to meet you.’
The girl holds her hand out in front of her. ‘Ginny Weasley.’ That much had been obvious without any clarification.
Instinctively, Andromeda takes the girl's hand and shakes it. Everything she does these days is unconscious. Time ticks on and Andromeda moves from one action to another without thought. She steps aside, gives her uninvited visitors room to come inside, another rote gesture.
Miss Weasley leads the way into her home, pulling Mr Potter by their clasped hands. Andromeda trusts that they'll follow her back to the living room, where Teddy is sleeping in his bassinet. They do.
‘You have a lovely home,’ Miss Weasley says. Andromeda wonders if everything the girl is doing is also by routine. The Weasley's lost a boy too, she remembers; the dull ache the recollection brings barely penetrates the gnawing chasm constantly growing within Andromeda.
‘Thank you.’ It doesn't feel lovely anymore. It feels empty and void.
Harry crosses to Teddy, he pauses by the bassinet and glances at Andromeda. She nods. Permission granted, he lifts Teddy into his arms, holding him the way Andromeda showed him on his first visit.
‘I wondered if you might have tea with me? In the garden?’ Miss Weasley asks. ‘I thought you might need to get out of the house.’
Andromeda almost physically recoils at the suggestion. Only decades of practice allows her to maintain her composure.
‘You want to have tea with me?’ It's an odd request considering she's never even met the girl before.
‘Yes,’ Miss Weasley responds, rubbing a hand on her arm. Andromeda gets the impression she's trying to hold herself together. ‘Harry can watch Teddy for half an hour. I thought you could probably use the fresh air.’
Andromeda almost declines. She doesn't want to go outside. She doesn't want to see the sunshine, or flowers, or anything beautiful ever again.
She turns, prepared to tell Ginny Weasley as much; that's when she notices the girl's shirt. It's bright purple. The Weird Sisters is emblazoned across it in green writing. There's an identical one upstairs, in a bedroom Andromeda can't face entering.
Miss Weasley notices her staring at it. ‘Tonks – sorry, Nymphadora – bought it for me.’
One corner of Andromeda's mouth twitches. It's an apology she's received from a dozen of Nymphadora's friends previously, one she thought she'd never hear again. ‘You can call her Tonks.’
Miss Weasley nods. ‘You can call me Ginevra, if you like.’
Mr Potter's face morphs into an expression that makes it abundantly clear this is not an offer Ginevra gives out often. Fleetingly, it changes to a smirk. ‘Can I call you Ginevra?’
She doesn't miss a beat. ‘If you want to be single.’
It's the first joke she's heard since it happened; Andromeda almost hears the quip in Nymphadora's voice.
‘Tea would be lovely,’ she hears herself say.
Before she really recognises what she's agreed to, Andromeda is outside for the first time in weeks. Ginevra takes a seat on one of the wrought iron garden chairs. Andromeda does the same.
‘You’ll have to summon the tea,’ Ginevra says apologetically. ‘I’m not of age yet.’
Andromeda flicks her wand, summoning a teapot in the same rote way she does everything else now. Ginevra pours it into the china teacups that accompany the teapot; her hand shakes, spilling amber liquid on the white table. They both pretend not to notice.
She slides a cup towards Andromeda. The silence between them is only punctuated by the buzzing of bees in the flowerbeds and the birdsong coming from the trees at the far end of the lawn. It seems impossible that life still continues to thrive when Andromeda’s has ended.
Ginevra releases a shaky breath, her gaze fixed on the depths of her teacup. ‘I really miss her,’ she says quietly. A single tear falls from her cheek to the tea's surface. Andromeda swallows past the lump that appears in her throat. ‘I keep picking up my quill to write to her, and then I remember that I can't.’
There’s nothing Andromeda can say in reply to that. She's lost count of the number of times she's done the same. Last night she made all three of them a cup of tea. It took her two hours to work up the strength to pour them, undrank, down the sink.
‘I was with her when she–’ Ginevra stops, swallows, and then starts again, her eyes shining with tears. ‘I held her hand… she was already gone, but I wanted her to know I was there.’
Andromeda’s stomach twists painfully, not just at the reminder of what happened, but at the notion Ginevra Weasley was there to witness it. The girl sitting in front of her isn’t even old enough to summon a teapot for herself, let alone to be in the centre of a battle. Somehow, she knows Ginevra would not appreciate being told as much. Nymphadora wouldn’t either.
‘She was a really good friend,’ Ginevra continues, filling the silence where Andromeda can’t. She looks up from her teacup with blazing eyes. ‘I’m going to make sure Teddy knows that.’
It’s a promise she won’t be able to keep for years; not one a child should have to make at all. Andromeda doesn’t doubt Ginevra will keep it though.
It’s hard to doubt anything Ginevra is saying. It’s hard to breathe. It’s almost impossible to look at her; the young woman sitting in Andromeda’s garden, wearing a Weird Sisters t-shirt and a look of fierce loyalty. It’s like a tiny piece of Nymphadora is still here.
‘You can visit whenever you like.’
She doesn’t mean to say it, but the words slip from her lips before Andromeda can stop them; she will cling to any small part of Nymphadora that still exists in the world.
Ginevra smiles through her tears. ‘I already planned to.’