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You should have asked him 48 hours ago. He would have answered: "No way I'll be married in two days."

If someone asked Ted Tonks on Thursday, August 12th, he would’ve said it was impossible that he’d be married to the woman of his dreams, Andromeda Black, by Saturday.  Astonishingly and miraculously, in a mere 48 hours he goes from single to married, from hopeless to overjoyed, and from despair to peace.

The 14th of August, 1971 becomes the happiest day of his life.

12 August 1971

It’s noon on Thursday at St. Mungo’s, which means one thing for Healer trainees: next week’s schedule is available. It’s the hour that trainees find out if their requests for time off have been approved (they almost never are), if they’ll have two consecutive days off (laughable, but not impossible), or if they’ll be spared an overnight shift (they won’t).

All trainees work five days a week, twelve hours a day, but the days are almost never together and weekends don’t exist. The trainees gather around the bulletin board, where the Head Healer has put their assignments.

Ted Tonks has got the weekend off.

He frowns at the schedule, hears his fellow trainees complain over their days (“I don’t get off till Thursday and Friday of next week! That’s ten fecking days in a row!”), and almost offers to switch his days off with Sullivan, but Ted’s already worked ten consecutive days and doesn’t want to turn it into fifteen.

Pretending to be happy and glad that he’s got two coveted days off, Ted returns to his station. It’s time to check on Mrs. Diggory’s necrotized ears and hope there’s enough tissue left to regrow them. With his trainer, Healer Omar Shafiq, at his side, they determine Mrs. Diggory will be a one-eared wonder, and get to work. As they carefully regrow the skin on one side and excise the ear on the other, Ted thinks of everything that led to this moment.

He had a boyhood dream of becoming a doctor. When his Hogwarts letter came and he discovered he was a wizard, he learned that he could pursue a similar dream.

Becoming a Healer was harder than becoming a doctor. Not only did he have to have the best marks, but he had to beat the expectations of everyone who looked down upon his Muggle upbringing. He worked tirelessly in the alcoves of the Ravenclaw common room, pored over hundreds of thick tomes, and practiced potions until he burned his eyebrows off and Madam Pomfrey made him rest.

He did it. Against all odds, he earned the requisite O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. He excelled as a prefect, and then as Head Boy, all the while sneaking around the castle with his secret girlfriend, Andromeda.

They slinked around for two years, knowing she was engaged to Rabastan Lestrange and would marry him after they finished their studies. Ted asked her to run away with him. She said she couldn’t, but he held out hope that she’d change her mind.

They parted ways on the Hogwarts Express and he hasn’t heard a word from her since. It’s been six long, grueling weeks.

He’s neck deep in Healer training, trying to hold Mrs. Diggory’s head still while he and Omar regrow her ear. He’s fighting to hold himself together. He tells himself he knew what to expect.

Mrs. Diggory’s got a new ear and it’s bigger than the old one. It’s just as well: she’s an old bat and could hardly hear, and now she’ll be able to hear her son’s upcoming wedding vows.

Ted and Omar move onto the next room.

With every patient he sees, diagnosis he gives, and treatment plan he creates, Ted wonders what Andromeda is doing. He wonders if she’s thinking of him the way he thinks of her. He wonders how they could’ve shared so many tender, loving moments together, only for her to walk away.

She must have a heart of steel, or no heart at all. His heart’s battered and broken beyond recognition.

“You’ve got the weekend off, eh?” Omar says cheerfully, signing off on Ted’s treatment plan for Mr. Doge (another case of burrowing earwigs, what is the man doing in his free time?).

“Yeah,” Ted mumbles, shrugging. “Don’t have anything to do.”

“Go out and enjoy life, my boy! That’s what you do!”

Omar smiles broadly and opens the door to the Healers’ lounge to fix himself a cup of tea. That morning’s edition of The Daily Prophet is sitting on a table, and Ted decides to thumb through it, the silvery scar on his forearm almost shining under the incandescent lights of the lounge. What’s left of his hope and happiness plummets when he sees the upcoming marriage announcement between Andromeda V. Black and Rabastan L. Lestrange.

They’re getting married on Saturday. Ted won’t even have work to keep his mind off her.

“Go to the discotheque!” Omar’s booming, vibrant voice fills the lounge. “That’s where young, dashing men like you should be, with a pretty woman on your arm!”

Ted holds in the impulse to tell Omar he’s terribly mistaken. He doesn’t want to go to the discotheque. He doesn’t want a woman on his arm, unless she’s Andromeda. She won’t be anywhere near him on Saturday. She’ll be at a posh, pureblood wedding, marrying a man who doesn’t deserve her and beginning a life Ted could never give her.

There’s an urgent call for Healers on the first floor. That’s where the lounge is, so Ted and Omar leap out of their seats and run to room 119, where a green, delirious child has three round, oozing puncture wounds in his shoulder and his mother is wailing about a three-fanged serpent.

Antidotes are rushed in. Ted shoves one vial after another down the boy’s swollen throat, hoping he’s not drowning the child, while Omar treats the puncture wounds and tries to stop the oozing pus. The child is limp and half-dead when they’re through with their work, but they think he’ll recover. They can’t promise anything. It’s the best they can do.

Ted’s thinking about the green, spasming little boy on the way out of the hospital. He worked two extra hours to get him stable and now he gets to come home to his pathetic flat.

The studio’s barely big enough for a single bed, a table for one, and his old school trunk, but it’s better than living with his parents. He spent one week under their roof, moping over Andromeda, and they spent that week convincing him to try a Muggle uni and forget all about his peculiar, prejudiced wizarding world. It didn’t help that his mother didn’t like the Floo powder that came with a specially connected fireplace, so Ted gave it up.

He pays too much money for what’s really an oversized closet with a toilet, but it’s not like he’s entertaining anyone. At least it’s close enough to the hospital that he can walk there and back without bothering the Muggles around him with magic.

Ted’s out of his robes when he sits down to eat a half-burnt pie (heating charms on frozen Muggle foods don’t work right) and sees that morning’s Daily Prophet, untouched, on his countertop. He doesn’t want the reminder that Andromeda’s marrying Rabastan Lestrange.

With a charred carrot in his mouth and a bitter, salty taste on his lips, he sets fire to the newspaper, vanishes the ash, and wishes he was someone else.

13 August 1971

Friday the thirteenth dawns with humidity and the stale air of the city. Ted dresses in his lime green robes and walks, yawning, from the front door of his building to the loading dock of the old department store that masks the wizarding hospital within. He taps his wand on the keypad, and slips through the heavy steel door, like the platform entrance at King’s Cross.

He was eleven years old. The September sun shone bright and warm on his head. His parents, nervous and smiling, followed a group of funny-dressed people through a brick barrier. They miraculously came out of it and found a giant, scarlet steam engine. The group of people who went before them looked back and sneered, except for her, a slight girl with wavy, light brown hair and big, grey eyes. She looked at him with something like fascination, as if he belonged in a zoo.

Omar’s there to greet him in the Healers’ lounge.

“The Twycross boy made it through the night,” he tells Ted. “We’re going there first.”

The boy with the snake bite is a delicate shade of green. His bandages have been changed twice, per his report, and the wounds are still dripping with an orangish, thick pus. It smells like petrol—Ted’s got to explain it to pureblood Omar—but the scent doesn’t matter. The Twycross boy’s wounds won’t seal, and he’s being pumped with Blood Replenishing Potion to keep him from bleeding out.

The boy moans, and they try to get him to say something, but his tongue is too swollen.

Ted followed her into an empty compartment. She had a sister with wild, dark hair and similar eyes. The sister’s went off to see someone, leaving the girl alone.

“Wotcher!” he said cheerfully, while sticking his hand out. “I’m Ted.”

The girl didn't shake his hand. She simply stared in wide-eyed disbelief.

He dropped his hand. “That’s okay. Can I sit here? I’m new—”

“—no,” the girl said quietly. “You can’t sit here. I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

Ted frowned. Perhaps she’d mistaken him for another.

“Why not?”

“You’re a Mudblood. Please get out.”

He didn’t know what the word meant, but it didn’t sound very nice, and he found a different compartment with two giggly and friendly girls, Molly Prewett and her friend, Naomi Miller. He told them about what happened and they gave him a piece of advice: never, ever talk to anyone who uses that word (the Slytherins), and don’t walk alone in the corridors.

The Twycross boy—Norman—opens and closes his eyes. Ted and Omar have done all they can. They’ll try to push the poison out and pump new blood in for another twenty-four hours. As long as Norman is conscious, they’ll keep trying.

“We could try sutures,” Ted suggests, as they close the curtains around Norman and his parents. Omar stares at him, so Ted explains what they are.

“Intriguing,” Omar murmurs, scratching his chin, “but that kind of poison will eat through the stitches. Best we use magical methods, old chap.” Omar pats his shoulder, and they move onto their new patient, Mrs. Malkin.

Ted would’ve been bothered by the comment, but Omar means well. It’s a far-fetched idea to try Muggle healing methods on a magical patient. Omar is gracious and listens to Ted, and though he doesn’t usually take the suggestions, he doesn’t dismiss them outright. Omar’s pureblood, but a kind one, like Molly-now-Weasley, and it’s refreshing to work with someone whose respect Ted didn’t have to struggle for.

Four long years passed between that first train ride from King’s Cross to Hogwarts and Ted’s fifth one. He was sorted into Ravenclaw, the airiest, smartest house, and the girl with light brown hair—Andromeda Black—went to Slytherin. Ted was told repeatedly to watch out for the snakes, and it wasn’t hard to avoid them, as he had so many classes with the Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors.

He was made prefect and so was she.

Then they were made potions partners in their O.W.L. year. There were no greetings or exchanging of pleasantries. They got to work right away to make a Wit-Sharpening Potion, with Andromeda trying to do everything herself, but he was quicker at dicing.

“You’ve got to dice them like—”

“—I know what the textbook says, Black,” Ted sighed. “I dice my way and you dice yours. The result’s the same.”

“No, it’s not—”

She tried to catch his sleeve, but it didn’t work.

Ted shamelessly placed his perfectly diced dandelion root into the bubbling cauldron. Andromeda was horrified, beginning to insult him, and thinking the potion was ruined, but it turned into a textbook, shimmering yellow.

“I learned to dice onions ages ago,” Ted explained, seeing her face grow pink. “It’s easier to dice everything that way.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Easier doesn’t mean it’s correct.”

“It’s not correct to you, but it means I’ve saved us five minutes which we can use to review the next steps,” he said calmly. “That’s what I intend to do.”

He didn’t bother to check what she did; he studied the notes, and later, she didn’t say a word when he peeled and diced the shrivelfigs.

Mrs. Malkin, their next patient, has a nasty bout of the Dragon Pox and she brewed her own remedy. It amounted to a vat of salt and she’s puffing up as a result, becoming a greenish-blue blob that breathes, burps, and defecates sparks. Ted gets the task of managing the spark-producing orifices while Omar performs an examination.

“Thith ith widdiculuth,” Mrs. Malkin tries to say, coughing sparks all over Ted’s robes. “My wemethy wath fine. I’m thusth fine.”

Ted groans as his sleeve catches fire. He puts it out and tries directing the sparks elsewhere, but the air duct is flowing toward him. The effort becomes meaningless.

They were still potions partners, eight months later. They reached a truce after the Wit-Sharpening Potion. They trusted each other, and sometimes, they even talked. They weren’t friends—that was as far-fetched as Ted becoming the next Muggle Prime Minister—but they were friendly.

“How were your Easter holidays?” he asked, when their Everlasting Elixir had to simmer for ten minutes.

“Same as usual.”

“What is ‘usual’ for you?”

“Dinner with my family, chocolate eggs, and my younger cousins making trouble.” She returned to her notes.

“You know,” he said, “you could ask me what I did, if you wanted to be polite.”

“You can just tell me, Tonks,” Andromeda said, huffing impatiently. “You clearly want to.”

Ted grinned and pulled out a still photograph of a mint green Ford Corsair. He and his father were leaning against the back door with huge smiles. Handing the picture to her, he said, “My dad taught me to drive it!”

Andromeda wrinkled her nose. “You willingly go into these death traps?”

“As if broomsticks and half these potions ingredients aren’t death traps?” He shook his head; cars were loads safer than the death-defying magical world.

While chopping ingredients for the next step of their potion, they argued over the relative safety of Muggle and magical transportation methods.

“Those wheeled machines crash and everyone dies!”

“One bad Splinch and you’re dead!”

“It’s not safe to fly in a huge metal tube!”

“A jinxed broomstick can kill you way faster!”

They debated, not realizing they’d each chopped Venomous Tentacula leaves. They both reached into the cauldron at the same time and—

They finish with Mrs. Malkin. Ted’s robes have seen better days, but the maintenance staff will mend the burn marks. There’s no time to spare, as the next patient needs urgent care.

Mr. Woodhouse is howling in agony and gasping in his third-floor room. He claims to have ingested a bad batch of Skele-Gro. He’s got four extra arms, a new leg coming out of his thigh, and double the number of ribs. The new set is constricting his chest cavity and his heart is failing.

Ted knows what to do before Omar needs to ask. He measures out a hefty dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion and a maximum-strength dose of All-Purpose Anesthetizing Solution. Mr. Woodhouse’s teeth are sticking out at odd angles, overly large for his mouth, but enough liquid goes down his throat that he lays slack against the white hospital bed.

“This is going to be gruesome,” Omar tells Ted. “Whatever he ingested, it isn’t Skele-Gro. We’re going to have to manually—”

Ted’s seen his fair share of blood and gore, but the prospect of removing all of their patient’s extra limbs and bones by hand is nearly more than he can handle.

Omar casts the Cutting Charm on the first extra arm, which sticks out of Mr. Woodhouse’s shoulder blade. There’s an immediate torrent of warm, crimson blood. Ted stems the tide of blood while Omar rips out the joint that shouldn’t be lodged in the muscle tissue. The muscle will take weeks to heal, even with copious amounts of Dittany, which Ted’s got to administer. The skin sizzles and stitches itself. Omar requests a Mediwitch to help with the blood and disposing of the additional limb.

They move onto the next arm.

Ted woke up in the infirmary. The sun was setting and his head was pounding, his whole body sore, and his vision blurry.

“Mr. Tonks,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Very happy to see you’re awake. If you can, please sit up.”

He couldn’t sit up. The hospital matron stuffed two more pillows behind his back. There was a shadowy figure near him, but it was hard to tell with the spots marring his usually impeccable eyesight.

A series of revolting potions were thrust into his hand. Each one tasted worse than the last, but they were alleviating his pain and clearing his vision.

A tray appeared out of thin air. It had a plate full of sandwiches, crisps, a jug of pumpkin juice, and several pumpkin pasties. Madam Pomfrey placed it in front of Ted and instructed him to eat. With his improved eyesight, he saw the silhouette of the shadowy figure beyond the white curtain around his bed.

“Who—” he croaked, pointing at the figure.

“That is Miss Black,” Pomfrey replied crisply. “If you’d like me to send her away—”

Ted shook his head. He was intrigued as to why Andromeda was coming to see him, and as Madam Pomfrey poked her head out of the curtain to call her in, Ted had a brief moment of panic: which Miss Black ?

Four arms, one leg, two dozen ribs, fifteen teeth, and seventeen extra toes lay in a bloody pile, staining the white tile floor with creeping, scarlet pools.

Ted’s hands, arms, and robes are drenched in blood. Omar’s in a similar state, even after multiple Mediwitches were brought in to assist with the process of removing the additional bones and limbs. Ted almost fainted when he had to help Omar remove the ribs from their fleshy locations, but the ordeal is over and Mr. Woodhouse’s heart is growing stronger. When he’s awake they’ll ask what he ingested and report him to the authorities if he was caught with an illegal substance. It’s one of Ted’s least favorite parts of the job, and it took only a few days for him to realize that ‘accidents’ aren’t always accidents and loads of people lie to Healers.

Ted’s stomach growls and Omar’s follows.

“Lunch, Tonks?”

“It’s tomato soup and grilled cheese today,” says a Mediwitch. Ted groans. He doesn’t want anything liquid or red.

“We’ll go out,” Omar offers, clapping Ted on the back. “We’ll go down to the laundry facilities, change, and find something else. You’ve earned it, my boy. My treat.”

Ted’s only thinking about a good shower. His shift isn’t over for another six hours, and anyway, he’s got nothing to look forward to over the weekend. Bloodied, severed limbs are more palatable than imagining the love of his life marrying another man.

Andromeda explained everything. The double measurement of Venomous Tentacula leaves created a boiling, disastrous explosion. She dodged it at the last second, but Ted got the full force. He was blown back against the dungeon wall. Sharp, broken potions bottles from the shelves above him smashed against his skin. Whatever was within them began to burn, disfigure, and tear his flesh. He was unconscious from the initial blow to the back of his head, suffered a concussion, and then spent four days in the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey healed him.

Only one long, razor-thin silvery line ran along his forearm. Miraculously, it was the only evidence of the explosion in the dungeons. He marveled at the magic and wished Muggles could be saved so easily.

“I took notes for you,” Andromeda said softly, interrupting his observation and shoving a stack of parchment toward him. It was at least six inches tall.

“All this from potions?” Ted gasped. He knew the professors were piling on extra homework ahead of O.W.L.s, but this was egregious, especially from Slughorn.

Andromeda shook her head slightly. In the dimmed light of the hospital wing, Ted could see her cheeks flush.

“It’s everything. Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmancy . . .”

“You did that for me?”

Not quite meeting his eyes, she nodded.

Ted and Omar sit outside the bistro where they’ve purchased their lunch. It’s a Muggle place, one of Omar’s usual haunts, and the workers all greeted him by name.

“Tell me about her,” Omar says, after finishing his half-sandwich.

“Hmm?”

“A young man like you should be itching to get out of the hospital for a weekend off. The only ones who don’t are the ones who’ve got their hearts broken.” Omar blinks owlishly at Ted. “Unless it’s a him?”

Ted shakes his head. It’s a her, Andromeda. It’s a pureblood girl with a family who wants him dead. It’s a witch who stole his heart, broke it, and who’s still got a hold on him. If only she knew how much power she had over him, she could get him to bend to her every whim and wish.

“Who is she?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ted mutters. “Not for me.”

“Rubbish,” Omar disagrees. “Take it from experience. A Healer trainee with a big heart and a bright future ahead of him will have his choice of dates. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Ted’s fists are clenched so hard his nails are digging into his skin.

“Not a pureblood.”

Omar’s face falls. “I see.”

“I thought,” Ted begins, but scowls. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. She’s with someone else and I’m getting over her.”

“Go out dancing anyway, Ted,” Omar recommends. “You’ll find someone who deserves you.”

Ted doesn’t doubt that, as many kind women exist, but the one he wants is the one he can’t have.

The detailed class notes turned into an offer to revise with him. Every Thursday, when they weren’t on prefect patrols, Andromeda and Ted met in a hushed corner of the library and studied together.

They didn’t say much to each other in the beginning. Ted asked to revise what he’d missed when he was in the infirmary. Andromeda learned Ted was naturally good at arithmetic, so his Arithmancy and Astronomy calculations were almost never wrong.

Thursdays became Ted’s favorite day of the week. He had good friends in his dormitory, was friendly with most of his classmates, but as he got to know Andromeda Black, he realized there was more to her than her standoffish demeanor and prejudiced upbringing.

She wanted to go into fashion and had an eye for fabrics, patterns, and the way the human body shifted with clothes. She loved to travel and wanted to live in Paris. She had two sisters she loved fiercely and two little cousins who were clever, rambunctious boys. She was proud of her family history but was growing increasingly worried over the tensions in the wizarding world.

She didn’t hate Muggleborns. She didn’t understand them and was afraid of them, and all Muggles, until she got to Hogwarts.

“You’re nothing like what I expected,” she said, on a warm, June evening, after they’d wrapped up their Potions revising (Ted, as usual, had bested her in theory).

“What did you expect?” he challenged.

“Someone who didn’t know what he was doing. I grew up with all of this and you learned about it when you were eleven and you’re doing loads better than most of my dormitory.”

“If you went to a new world,” Ted said, arching a brow at her, “wouldn’t you want to learn everything you could about it?”

Andromeda thought it over for a few seconds, her deep pink lips forming a thin line. Ted liked to watch her sometimes. She had an expressive face, when she wasn’t forcing herself to keep it back, and he treasured those unusual moments in which he got to see her for who she was. He couldn’t deny she was also exceptionally pretty, and very unattainable.

“I never thought of it that way,” she finally said. “I take a lot for granted.”

Ted could only grin at her.

They return from lunch to a busy fourth floor, where the Janus Thickey Ward resides. Five Unspeakables are incomprehensible and blathering about subjects beyond Ted’s grasp. He discovered early on that Unspeakables are the hardest patients to treat, as they take Unbreakable Vows to prevent them from speaking about their work, which means Healers can only guess at what happened to them.

Omar and the other seasoned Healers suspect memory damage and possible complications with time travel. Ted’s not trained enough to apply charms and counter-charms to delicate matters like these, so he’s tasked with maintaining vitals and performing physical examinations on each of his new patients.

A silver-haired witch babbles at him in a thick accent, miming something around her legs, and when Ted realizes what she’s trying to say, diarrhea drips down to the floor.

He calls for the nearest Mediwizard to help with the cleanup.

Their O.W.L.s came and went. The Thursday after exams, Ted wasn’t sure if he’d see Andromeda in the library, but he went anyway. Even if she didn’t show up, he’d write a letter to his parents and tell them about the end-of-year exams. Their usual meeting time passed, and while disappointed, he took out his parchment and pen (he refused to write letters to his parents with a quill, it was pretentious and unnecessary), and started the letter.

It was a quarter to eight when Andromeda showed up, breathless and a little pink, and broke into a smile upon seeing him.

“You were here.”

Ted felt a smile tugging on his lips. Andromeda was blushing, her light brown hair wild from the brisk pace she’d taken, and her deep grey eyes were twinkling. She was the most beautiful girl he knew and he was aware of how foolish it was to continue meeting with her, knowing he was falling harder for her each week.

They were study partners. They couldn’t be anything more.

“I’m writing a letter to my mum and dad,” he said, gesturing to the parchment. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Is that a pen?” she asked. Ted handed it to her, letting her inspect it. With a look of pure wonder, she added, “It’s self-inking?” He chuckled and took the pen back, unscrewed the cap, and showed her where the ink flowed from.

“Here,” he said, ripping off a bit of parchment, “scribble with it. See if you like it.” Andromeda sat down, took the pen, and drew a few lines.

“This is brilliant,” she whispered, looking at the ordinary click pen.

“You can keep it,” he offered. “I’ve got loads more in my trunk.”

“Thank you, Ted.”

The tender way she said his name made his heart ache.

With the Unspeakables tucked into their beds for the remainder of the day, Ted follows Omar to the newest wing on the second floor, a recently expanded space for magical maternity patients. To his great delight, he recognizes his next patient. It’s Naomi, one of the sweet witches who he met on the Hogwarts Express in his first year, and she’s there with her husband, Edgar Bones. They’re expecting a baby in the next few weeks.

“Tonks, is that you?” Naomi asks, beaming at him.

“Hey, Naomi,” Ted says, grinning. He shakes Edgar’s hand and congratulates them on their marriage and upcoming baby.

“We ought to get a new Healer,” says Omar, with a look of mild disapproval on his face, “as we don’t like conflicts of interest—”

“—we know each other from school,” Naomi interjects. “We weren’t in the same year or house. Tonks is great, but we’re not . . .”

“What Mrs. Bones wants to say,” Ted chuckles, “is that we’re familiar acquaintances. Omar, if you’d like me to step aside—”

“—no, stay!” Naomi protests. “I want Tonks here.”

Omar looks conflicted but decides that as he’s never met the Boneses, and they want Ted to stay, the trainer-trainee duo will treat them.

Ted knows a limited amount about pregnancies and even less about magical ones. They’re not much different than Muggle ones, except there are different tools for determining due dates, progress, and the baby’s health. Ted watches with fascination as Omar presses his wand against Naomi’s huge belly. The tip transforms into a listening device, and Ted comes to hear the baby’s heartrate.

“Everything sounds good,” Omar says, when Ted’s heard the quick beats. “We’ll examine you and see how effaced you are.”

The next stage of the examination makes Ted blush furiously. He understands why Omar suggested they find other Healers; if it were anyone else, Ted wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, but Naomi isn’t a stranger and looking at her cervix is awkward. He clears his throat and tries to listen to what Omar tells him to do and measure.

Naomi is just another patient, he tells himself, and does what he’s asked to do.

Ted and Andromeda met once more before their summer holidays. They said goodbye, Ted’s heart thumping erratically in his chest when they shook hands and wished each other a good summer.

He didn’t hear from her at all, and the first Thursday back at Hogwarts for their sixth year, he found their usual table in the library, beaming from ear to ear when he saw her there, twirling a soft curl in her fingers.

“Wotcher, Andromeda,” he said, his stomach flipping when she smiled warmly at him. He was pleasantly bewildered when she stood up and wrapped her arms around him for a hug. They’d never touched like that, and when his hands came to rest on the small of her back, his nose buried in her sweet-smelling hair, he felt a rush of nervous butterflies in his midsection.

She made him feel alive.

“Ted, look what I got—” she whispered. She let go and pulled out a box of expensive fountain pens. “—I had to slip out to find them, but look!”

She wrote her name in an elegant script, using a pen with emerald ink. Her almost childlike joy made his face hurt from smiling.

“They’re so easy to use—”

“—what have I been saying this whole time?” he said, chuckling. He set his rucksack down and pulled out their Charms textbook. “These quills are ridiculous.”

Andromeda stopped writing for a moment and peered at him, her lips slightly parted.

“Your voice got deeper.” Ted felt himself flush. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. She cleared her throat and pulled out her text as well. “Shall we begin with revising the theory of cleaning charms?” she said lightly. “Professor Flitwick said it’s been on the N.E.W.T.s for three years in a row.”

Ted didn’t know why her voice sounded funny or why she was blushing so hard, but he found it enchanting and struggled to keep his gaze away from her.

After the Boneses, it’s time to fill out patient reports. This is Ted’s least favorite part of the day; he argues with himself all the way to the Healers’ offices, wondering if it’s better to rip out extra limbs and bones by hand or if he’d rather do stacks of paperwork.

It’s irrelevant which one’s worse, as he’s got to do the charts and treatment plans anyway. He takes out his ballpoint click pen and sits down to summarize Norman Twycross’s progress with his snake bite. The afternoon Mediwizard put a note in the file that the boy’s pus seems to have decreased, which is a good sign, so Ted recommends continuation of the prescribed plan.

Elderly Mrs. Malkin is no longer farting sparks, but actual flames, and her assigned Mediwitch has applied multiple layers of anti-burn salves and administered a strong sedative. Ted updates the chart to recommend rerouting the contents of the colon through a temporary stoma in the abdomen. An ostomy bag can be made fireproof; Mrs. Malkin’s bowels will turn her feces into lava and it’s hard enough to keep her intestines from burning her alive.

Multi-amputee Mr. Woodhouse hasn’t woken. Ted thinks it’s a good thing, as they had to tear through sinew and muscle to rip out the last of the unneeded bones and cartilage. When he does wake, if he hasn’t been given regular, heavy doses of an anesthetic, he’ll be in excruciating pain. Ted updates his chart to reflect more frequent doses of the anesthetic potion and hopes it will be enough to keep Mr. Woodhouse from agony.

The next reports are for the five Unspeakables in the Janus Thickey Ward. Ted’s yawning, so he gets up to find caffeine. The Healers’ offices have piss-poor coffee, but it’ll do, so he begins to brew a fresh pot.

It was a crisp October night when Ted noticed a ring on Andromeda’s left hand. It had an emerald in the center, surrounded by tiny diamonds in the shape of a heart. Above the heart was a gold bow accented with more diamonds, including a larger one in the center. Ted had never seen anything so sparkly or expensive.

“Is that new?” he asked quietly, pointing his pen at the ring.

An expletive escaped from Andromeda’s utterly proper tongue. She took the ring off, pulled out a delicate chain that was hidden around her neck, obscured by her robes, and put the ring on it. Tucking it back under her robes so Ted couldn’t see, she set her wand back down, looking nervously around her.

“Andromeda?” Ted regarded her, concerned that she was acting so peculiarly. “Is everything okay?”

She shook her head, saying nothing.

“No, it’s not okay? Or is everything all right?”

“No,” she whispered, wiping something away from her eyes, “no, it’s not.”

Ted had to tell himself to stay in his seat. He sat across from her, always careful not to touch her unless she initiated something. Though they were friendly and maybe even friends by now, he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. If someone was watching, it wouldn’t be good for a Muggleborn like him to touch a pureblood girl like her.

“Is there something I can do to help?”

Andromeda shook her head again, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Ted ached for her, wanting to wrap her in his arms and give her comfort.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There was only silence.

“Andromeda?”

Something shifted on her face.

“Can we just get back to Ancient Runes, please?”

Ted reluctantly agreed and didn’t comment or act on the tears that fell down her cheeks, as much as he wanted to wipe them away and make her smile again.

The Unspeakables’ reports take two hours to finish. Ted’s rubbing his eyes open and fighting back the exhaustion. It’s only four o’clock and he’s still got four hours to go before the shift is over.

Then it will be Friday night and he’ll be in his flat, alone, thinking of Andromeda getting ready for her wedding day.

He hopes (and berates himself for it) that there’s a mass casualty event to keep him at the hospital all weekend.

Ted found out a few weeks later that Andromeda got engaged over the summer. After he’d seen the ring, he’d wondered, but they were only sixteen years old. It shouldn’t have felt so devastating—he knew she was out of his reach—but the finality of an engagement squashed any hope that he could win her heart. He’d finally admitted his feelings for her to Kingsley, who shared the bad news of the betrothal, explaining it was an old pureblood custom to get their children promised early.

“My parents would never do that,” Kingsley had told him, “but not everyone’s like that. I feel sorry for her.”

“Why’s that?”

Ted could only imagine the kind of wizard her parents had promised her to, or maybe she’d been the one to pick him out. For all their conversations, Andromeda never mentioned a boyfriend or love life, but as he only saw her at mealtimes, classes, and their single, weekly study sessions, it was possible she was snogging some lucky wizard senseless in her free time.

Whoever the faceless, lucky bastard was, Ted hoped he was good enough for Andromeda.

“Her parents sent mine a betrothal offer,” said Kingsley. “Turned it down, obviously, but she ended up with Lestrange.”

“Lestrange?” Ted yelled. “Rabastan fucking Lestrange?”

“Yeah,” Kingsley shrugged. “Her older sister married the older brother. If I’d have known you liked her, I’d have got engaged and then let you run off together.”

Ted’s blood boiled. Rabastan Lestrange was as wealthy and pureblooded as he was cruel and boorish. Andromeda deserved so much better.

Perhaps she knew it, and that’s why she’d cried when Ted saw the ring.

The injustice of it all and his helplessness overwhelmed him. Ted rarely cried, but his anger gave way to tears. 

The Boneses’ report is easier to complete than the Unspeakables’. Naomi and Edgar are in excellent health and their baby girl is expected to be born in early September. Ted wonders what it must be like for parents, waiting for their baby to be born, not knowing when the day will come. It’s even more exciting, he thinks, with the baby coming right on the edge between August and September. He wonders, if the baby’s born on the first of September, if she’ll be going to Hogwarts on her eleventh or twelfth birthday.

It's half-past four. He’s got fifteen minutes. Instead of afternoon tea, he scarfs down the meager lunch he packed for himself. Then it will be time to check on his patients again.

There was snow on the ground by the time Ted gathered the courage to ask Andromeda about her engagement. He’d practiced the conversation in his head a thousand times by then, but there was only one thing he wanted to know: was she going to be happy with Lestrange?

Ted’s mother often said ‘the heart works in mysterious ways,’ referring to the many ways people fell in love. Ted didn’t think he could bear Andromeda choosing Rabastan over him (despite how ludicrous it would be for a pureblood girl to fall for a Muggleborn boy), but if she was happy, maybe it would be enough.

He began the conversation gently.

“What are you doing over the Christmas holidays?”

“Christmas Eve with my family,” Andromeda replied quickly, frowning over her Transfiguration notes. “Grimmauld Place for Christmas Day, as usual.”

It was as good an opening as he’d get.

“And your fiancé’s family?” he asked. “Will you see them?”

Andromeda dropped her pen and gaped at him.

“How did you know?”

“Kingsley told me.”

Andromeda’s face crumpled. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Ted worried that he’d offended her.

“Was he not supposed to?” Ted said hastily. “I can forget about it, if it’s not public—”

Then she burst into tears and cried into her hands. Ted anxiously rubbed his palms against his robes, wanting to do something, anything, to soothe her. The conversation was going as poorly as it could.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, “I didn’t mean to offend you. We can forget I ever said—”

But then her hand reached out to him, grasping for something, and he swallowed his fears. He wasn’t courageous by nature, but he felt he had to do this for her.

He got up, moved around the table, and let her hug him. She was seated and he was standing, so her face rested against his abdomen. It was hard on his back to lean in that awkward position, so he sunk down on his knees, letting Andromeda hold his hands tightly while she cried into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, ‘Dromeda,” he murmured. “It’s going to be all right. Whatever it is, you’ll be fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. She squeezed his hands and tugged him up. She stood with him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. Their warm bodies were pressed against each other. Ted let her cry, feeling somewhat mollified that he could give her a bit of comfort.

They stayed like that for several minutes, Andromeda sniffling into his robes, while he sat his chin on top of her head, enjoying the way their bodies fit together. If she wasn’t crying, he would treasure every second with her. Her hold started to loosen, and she stepped back, her face tearstained and her eyes wet and puffy.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ted said gently, still holding one of her hands. “I should be sorry for asking personal questions.”

Andromeda sniffled and sat down but didn’t let go of his hand. It felt nice to touch her like this, but it didn’t feel right. She was engaged to Lestrange.

“Ted,” she said shakily, “can I ask you something?”

“Okay?”

“Do you like me?”

Ted’s brow went up into his forehead. He stiffened, afraid of telling her too much.

“I do,” he replied carefully. “We’re friends. I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t like you.”

She sniffed and nodded, looking away.

Then everything spilled out, because he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“It’s more than that. I like you a lot, Andromeda. I would’ve wanted us to be more than friends, if you weren’t engaged. This is my favorite part of the week, spending time with you. I know I’m screwing everything up by saying this and you won’t feel the same way—you’re engaged to someone else—but just tell me, so I can get over you. Will you be happy with him? Do you love Lestrange? Because if you’re happy I can—”

He couldn’t say anymore because suddenly Andromeda’s lips were on his. They were wet and salty from her tears, but they were soft and parted. Her hands gripped his waist, her body melted into his, and he lost all memory of what he was going to say.

All he knew was Andromeda Black was kissing him and he never wanted it to stop.

The Twycross boy is sitting up and blinking slowly at him. Ted carefully lifts his arm to inspect the puncture wound. It’s swollen and the pus is oozing, but the reports are correct. The thick, slimy substance is disappearing and the edges of the bite aren’t so red or angry. Omar instructed Ted to take the lead, as they’ve seen this patient a few times by now.

“Norman,” says Ted, shining a light into the boy’s eyes, “look at me.”

The light brown irises focus for a few seconds.

“Try again, Norman.”

The boy responds for a short time. He’s still conscious, if struggling for his life, but he’s getting stronger. Ted tells his mother, Mrs. Twycross, that he expects Norman to take a long time to heal.

“How long?” she asks, her frail body shaking as she fluffs her son’s pillow.

“Months,” Ted suggests, as Omar nods. “I know it’s only August, but I wouldn’t expect him home for Christmas.”

Mrs. Twycross cries out and holds the bed for support.

“He’s showing signs of healing, Mrs. Twycross,” Omar adds. “As long as he improves a little every day, we have reason to hope.”

Ted tries to smile, but Norman is gurgling and needs help to breathe.

They surfaced for air after some time and neither of them could talk about it for a full minute. There were only giddy, shy smiles.

Eventually, they spoke. Andromeda confessed she’d felt something for him for almost a year. Ted was overjoyed for a moment, but remembered she was promised to another.

She said they’d figure it out. Ted didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t care so long as he could kiss her and hold her whenever he wanted.

It was how they spent the next several months, sneaking around, holding hands, kissing, and avoiding all talk of Rabastan Lestrange or unpleasant engagements.

Mrs. Malkin’s stoma is freshly created upon Ted and Omar’s arrival into her room. She’s complaining loudly over the indecency of such a measure, but the bag attached to her body, collecting her lavalike feces, is proof of its necessity.

“It’s a temporary measure,” Ted repeats, losing his patience. “The longer your waste remains in your body, the more likely it is to harm you. We’re doing all we can to keep your body in good working order.”

“This is indecent,” she scoffs, pointing at the fireproof bag hanging off her midsection. “I shouldn’t have to be treated like this! By a boy barely out of school, no less!”

“Mrs. Malkin,” Omar says sharply, “this is the prescribed treatment for severe, flaming dragon pox. My trainee is among the best of his year. If you choose another trainer-trainee team, I can almost guarantee you’ll have one with a higher mortality rate.”

That seems to shut the old crone up. Ted mouths ‘ thank you ’ to Omar, gratified by his words of support and kindness. They move onto the next patient.

Following their first kiss, Ted and Andromeda started seeing each other more often. They kept their Thursday night study sessions in the library and found other places in the castle to hide. Alcoves, cupboards, towers, and empty classrooms became their preferred locations to talk, kiss, and more.

Only Kingsley knew what they were doing, but he didn’t say a word to anyone. Though Andromeda’s sister, Narcissa, was busy flirting with the smarmy prat, Malfoy, they had to be careful lest others find them.

Stolen moments under falling snow gave way to kisses behind fluffy blooms around the greenhouses. The weather grew warmer than ever and more than one sunny afternoon was spent under a canopy of trees in the Forbidden Forest, the two of them exploring what they could.

Summer approached and with it, a question.

“Andromeda,” said Ted, in between soft kisses on the far side of the Black Lake, “can I see you over the summer?”

She stilled and took her hands off him. His stomach plummeted.

“No,” she mumbled. “We shouldn’t be writing to each other either.”

“No writing?”

“My parents will kill me if they find out.”

“Not even if we’re just friends?”

Andromeda’s pitiful gaze crushed his heart.

“So . . . after the train, I won’t see you till September?”

“We’ll have to get used to it, Ted,” she turned around and looked away from him. “Remember, this can’t be a forever thing. One day I’ll have to marry Rabastan and you’ll get to fall in love.”

“But I’ve already fallen in love.”

Andromeda turned quickly, her eyes wide and searching.

“What did you say?”

Ted held in a snort. “I’ve already fallen in love with you, ‘Dromeda. What I’ll ‘get’ is having to find someone who makes me feel the way you do. It’s not going to happen.”

“We’re young.” Her voice is heavy and weak at the same time. “Just think of this summer as practice, okay? By this time next year, it’ll be over.”

Ted vowed that day to find a means to never let their relationship end.

Mr. Woodhouse is covered in bandages. He almost looks like a mummy, with so much of his body wrapped in thick linens to keep his flesh in place.

He’s awake, tears streaming down his stubbled cheeks.

“Are you in pain, Mr. Wood—”

The cry from the man’s lips is confirmation enough. Ted increases the anesthetic potion dosage, administering an extra dose immediately. Mr. Woodhouse stops gasping and merely groans.

“Can you tell us what you took, sir?” Ted asks, returning to his patient’s chart. “Your intake forms suggest a bad batch of Skele-Gro?”

“Too much,” the man croaks. “Misread the bottle.”

“Skele-Gro is usually a prescribed potion,” Omar interjects. “Unless you went to a specialty Healer, your record doesn’t show you needed it.”

Mr. Woodhouse face contorts from discomfort or pain. Ted stands next to Omar, waiting for their patient to speak.

“I don’t remember.”

Ted suspects the man’s lying. At best, he tried to brew his own, with disastrous results. At worst, he smuggled the potion from an apothecary and didn’t know what he was doing with it.

“We won’t be able to treat you thoroughly unless you tell us more about the Skele-Gro,” Ted presses. “Can you tell us where you bought it or who made it?”

Mr. Woodhouse stares blankly at them. Ted hates the difficult, awkward silence between patient and Healer, but Omar’s got a passive, almost bored expression. He knows how to command a room.

There’s only quiet breathing while they wait.

The summer between his sixth and seventh year was cruel and long.

His parents caught him sulking a week into the holidays and got the truth out of him. They were shocked that such prejudices existed in his world. He’d been keeping quiet about it for years so they couldn’t ban him from going back to Hogwarts, and now that he was of age in the wizarding world, they couldn’t stop him from finishing his education.

They were also furious . They shouted at him, accusing him of keeping things from them (true) and carelessly canoodling with a girl (untrue, Andromeda was annoyingly careful with these matters). They insisted he end his foolish, puppy-love relationship and find a girl worth his time and affection.

Ted refused. He spent all summer fighting with his parents and with himself over what to do about Andromeda.

He knew she was engaged and what they had was fleeting, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they could be more. After Andromeda confirmed that she loathed Lestrange and wanted nothing to do with him, Ted wanted to find her an alternative.

Even if it wasn’t him.

He knew it couldn’t be him, as much as it stung, but he could sleep at night knowing she was happy with someone else. If she was happy, he could manage.

Andromeda already knew he was hopelessly in love with her, and while she hadn’t said she loved him, too, Ted felt her love had to be true.

Ted glances at Omar, pleading with him to say something. The silence in Mr. Woodhouse’s room has gone on long enough. It’s unbearable, not having a sound escape from any of their throats. He opens his mouth to speak, to urge their patient along, but Omar shakes his head imperceptibly.

Mr. Woodhouse breaks the silence.

“Why aren’t you leaving?”

A Head Boy badge arrived with his seventh-year booklist. Ted didn’t need to explain the importance of such a gesture to his parents. They couldn’t force him to stay away from Hogwarts, not when the Headmaster and his Head of House decided to make him Head Boy. He didn’t know who the Head Girl would be, and he didn’t dare write Andromeda to find out. Instead he went shopping for his books alone, paid for a few new sets of robes (he’d grown another few inches since last term), and took himself to King’s Cross on the first of September.

His parents objected to his return, even with the shiny badge on his chest, but Ted was adamant. He had worked too hard for too many years to come this far and back away now. He was going to get as many N.E.W.T.s as he could, apply to the Healer trainee program, and become a Healer.

He was also going to propose to Andromeda.

Ted worked all summer and saved up to buy a modest engagement ring. Unbeknownst to his parents, the day he went to Diagon Alley, he took a detour and Apparated (his parents had no idea he could do that too, which helped explain how he was able to mow so many lawns that summer) to Hatton Garden, where a row of jewelers awaited him. He’d been told to go there by elderly Mrs. Pickwick, a woman whose lawn he mowed every Saturday, and walked up to the jeweler that employed her oldest son.

Mrs. Pickwick’s son expected Ted and gave him a good deal. A single, brilliant diamond sat in a simple, yellow gold buttercup setting. It wasn’t as sparkly or grand as the ring Andromeda had from Rabastan, but it was all Ted could afford and it would come with a lifetime of love.

Hopefully Andromeda would choose a simpler ring and a man who would adore her for the rest of his days.

Before Ted can speak, Omar puts his hand up.

“Mr. Woodhouse,” Omar says calmly, “if you consumed a bad batch of Skele-Gro, as you initially claimed, then we are required to report it to the authorities to have the apothecary fined or investigated. If you took too much because you misread the directions, then we need to know who prescribed the potion to you to ensure disciplinary actions are taken for giving you too much. If you brewed it yourself, then we can avoid disciplinary actions on others and determine how you obtained key ingredients that are controlled substances.”

Mr. Woodhouse’s face flushes.

“Which will it be?” Omar asks, his countenance serene. “Any Healer worth his or her salt will never be careless in prescribing these potions.”

“Brewed it myself,” replies Woodhouse, with a grunt. “Didn’t know how much to take.”

“Thank you,” Ted murmurs, as Omar writes the admission down in the report.

“That will do for now,” Omar says, scribbling away with his quill, “a Mediwitch or wizard will be by to collect more information. Healer Tonks and I have got to go.”

They turn around and that’s when Ted notices the huge, triumphant grin on Omar’s face.

Seeing Andromeda after two months apart was like seeing the sun shine after weeks of torrential rain. Ted held himself back from wrapping her in his arms as soon as she stepped into the prefects’ compartment. She wasn’t the Head Girl—that honor went to the Hufflepuff prefect, Amelia Bones, who Ted’s happy to work with.

Ted and Amelia got to work right away to distribute prefect patrol schedules, and when Amelia left to console a set of lonely, homesick first years, Andromeda stayed behind.

“Wotcher,” Ted breathed, and felt Andromeda knock the air out of him with a huge hug.

“I missed you,” she said against his ear. “You grew again.”

“A little,” he laughs. “I had to get new robes.”

“That reminds me—” Andromeda reaches into her pocket, pulls out a soft parcel, and resizes it with her wand. “—put this in your trunk and open it later when you’re alone. I got you a set of robes and now I’m afraid they’ll be too short.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, ‘Dromeda.”

“I missed your birthday in April.”

“I missed your birthday last September.”

“You didn’t know it was my birthday.”

“Neither did you.”

“At my last birthday, we weren’t snogging—”

The compartment door opened and Narcissa walked in, gaping at Ted and Andromeda, both pink faced and stammering.

“What are you doing here, Andy?”

“Cissa,” Andromeda said, her tone clipped, “Tonks is Head Boy. I asked him to switch me with Lucius this week. You’ll have Astronomy on Thursday night and he’ll be patrolling. You’ll get to see him the other nights when you’re free.”

Narcissa lit up and ran in to hug her sister.

Ted backed away, seeing how the younger Black sister eyed him with cold contempt. He heard her whisper “Thank you for talking to that horrid Mudblood for me,” and held in his anger. If he’d managed to win over Andromeda, with luck, he’d win over her family. Narcissa would be his sister-in-law and it wouldn’t be a good idea to offend her.

“I’ve got to go,” Andromeda mouthed at him, pointing at her sister. Ted nodded and stepped out of the compartment with his parcel.

He’d intended to stay and talk about the future with her, but he figured he’d have plenty of time during the term to tell her what he was thinking.

When he did, she would definitely say yes.

Three Unspeakables are talking when they go up to the Janus Thickey Ward. Their speech is partially understandable: whatever calamity they suffered, they’ve lost the ability to use verbs. Two Unspeakables are still miming their needs.

“Mr. Bode.” Ted greets one of the speaking Unspeakables with a smile. “What can you tell me about what happened?”

“The brain . . . our arms. Ducks everywhere. Knowledge big explosion.”

Ted scratches his head. “There was a brain and there were arms. Where did the ducks go? And you thought there was an explosion?”

“Yes, brain,” Bode says, his forehead creasing. “Arms, brains. Ducks shelves rows. Inspector duck. Yes, duck. Big brain, big thought.”

Bode’s explanation is more unhelpful than the initial statement. Ted hides his frustration and tries another way.

“Magical accident, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me everything about it?”

“No.”

“Is there a brain involved?”

“Yes.”

“Your brain?”

“No.”

“Whose brain?”

Bode falls silent. “Tank’s brain.”

“Who is Tank?” Ted asks, flipping through the other Unspeakables’ records. No one is named Tank among those who arrived at St. Mungo’s. “Is he or she here?”

“Tank,” Bode repeats, miming a box. “Brain in a tank.”

“Yes, I understand,” says Ted. “What else was in the tank?”

“Only brain.”

Ted frowns. “The brain exploded?”

Bode sighs dramatically and runs his fingers down his face.

“No, ducks explosion!”

With a resigned sigh, Ted sits down by Bode’s bedside. It’s going to be a long time before he’s through with the fourth floor patients.

Ted hardly asked for any favors from his dormmates, especially for personal matters, but he needed his own compartment. They were on the train home from Hogwarts, two weeks after taking their N.E.W.T.s, and not once in the last year did Ted find the time to ask Andromeda to marry him. It was now or never; he needed to tell her how he felt.

Their last night together was more physical in nature and they’d had to wrap things up before he could ask. She slipped away, like she always did, and he longed for more.

The happiest part of his day was spent with her. She made him feel like he belonged. She was funny, clever, and brilliant. Last summer they’d been apart for two months and it was torture, not being able to write to her, talk to her, or hold her. He knew her life was complicated and her parents would be upset, but if he could convince her that he was good enough to be her friend and more, he could try convincing her family.

He believed they didn’t need to marry quickly to appease her parents. Merely the offer of marriage, showing how serious he was, could be enough to show Andromeda and her family that he was an alternative. Andromeda didn’t have to marry Rabastan Lestrange. She could marry Ted and be happy with him.

The door to the compartment flew open. Kingsley came through and fetched Andromeda. With a knowing smile, he closed the door behind him.

“’Dromeda,” Ted said, holding out his hands. She took them and rubbed her thumbs along his wrists. “I had to see you.”

“I’m sorry . . . I didn’t want to say goodbye.”

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye, does it?”

The buttercup diamond ring sat in its box, hiding in his robe pocket. Ted wanted to take it out and fall to his knee, but Andromeda let go of his hands and backed away.

“It does,” she said, her breath hitching. “It’s over, Ted.”

Ted’s insides turned cold and violent.

“’Dromeda—”

“We knew it would come to an end. There was never a way to figure it out—” Andromeda began to cry. “—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ted.”

“But,” Ted’s voice cracked, “I love you. We can find a way—”

“No, we can’t. It’s over. We’re done.”

“Andromeda, please—” He took her hand and fought the angry tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “—please don’t do this.”

“I have to.” She wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t want to, but I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to marry him and you—you’ll get to be happy. You’ll find someone else and make her so happy, Ted. Please be happy.”

“ You make me happy—”

“—don’t make this harder, Ted,” she said harshly. “We knew it was impossible.”

Ted opened his mouth. He didn’t know that. He thought she’d find a way. They’d find a way.

“Just be happy. You’ll fall in love again.” Andromeda hugged herself, trembling, and backed up against the door. “Goodbye, Ted. I hope you have a happy life.”

She slipped through the door. The image of her tearstained face and small, retreating figure, has haunted him ever since.

The creaky lift doors open. Ted and Omar walk in and press the button for the second floor. They’ve talked themselves hoarse after interviewing the Unspeakables. Though they couldn’t confirm the account, they believe there’s a giant brain in a vat that attacked the Unspeakables, who were mysteriously studying rubber ducks, and when the ducks fought back, the Unspeakables’ minds were scrambled.

It seems absurd, but Omar assured Ted that when it comes to the Department of Mysteries, to expect the unexpected.

They get off on the second floor and walk to the Healers’ lounge. The nighttime Mediwitches and wizards are milling about, readying themselves for their overnight shifts. Ted realizes it’s nine o’clock and he’s starving. He was supposed to get off work an hour ago. Omar’s finishing his notes and yawns in Ted’s direction.

“Go home,” he says. “I’ll finish up here. Have yourself a good weekend, Tonks. Remember to enjoy what time you have.” Omar smiles broadly. Ted was going to volunteer to finish the paperwork but his plans are foiled. He gives up and accepts he’ll have an awful, lonely weekend.

The buttercup engagement ring rests inside Ted’s nightstand. He considered selling it or pawning it, but to do so would mean he’s given up on Andromeda.

It’s Friday night, he’s eaten a charred dinner, showered, and changed into comfortable clothes. He sits on his narrow, single bed and opens the box containing the ring.

How often he’d envisioned Andromeda’s face when she saw the dainty ring. On the most hopeful days, he pictured her radiant smile, the way she threw her arms around him, and imagined her eager yes to his question. Sometimes, when the cynicism got the best of him, he imagined her wary expression and ran through the arguments in his head, where he’d convince her to be with him.

In his dreams, he always won her over. In reality, he’s alone and heartbroken.

The clock on his wall strikes twelve.

There’s a knock on the door.

14 August 1971

Ted raises his wand. Only his parents know where he lives and if it was an emergency, they’d call him first. His telephone hasn’t rung.

The knock is insistent.

With his wand aimed at the door, he pads across the room and looks through the peephole.

“Ted,” he hears Andromeda say. “Ted, please open the door. I know you’re in there.”

Racing thoughts run through his head. He’s apprehensive—attacks on Muggleborns are on the rise and it would be easy to catch him off-guard—

“Edward Tonks, please. It’s me, Andromeda. Your father taught you to drive a mint green Ford—”

Ted opens the door and Andromeda falls into his arms, gripping him tightly.

“Close the door, close the door—”

He uses his foot to shut the door and charms it locked. It’s surreal, having her in his shoebox-sized Muggle flat, with nothing to get in their way.

Nothing except for the wedding she’s supposed to attend in less than twenty-four hours.

“’Dromeda,” he murmurs, holding her against his chest.

She doesn’t say anything. She holds him, breathing hard, and only begins to let go after a few minutes.

“I’m so sorry, Ted,” she whispers. “I love you. I love you so much. Please, can we talk?”

Ted’s heart is in his throat. In all their time together, she never said those three life-changing words. He no longer believes she’ll change her mind and be with him, but at least he’ll see her one more time before she marries Lestrange.

“I don’t have many places to sit,” he tells her, “but we can talk.” He gestures to the bed and immediately regrets musing on the buttercup ring, as it’s sitting on his nightstand in its box.

“Oh.” Andromeda’s voice breaks. She taps the box and looks back at him, her eyes wet and downturned. “Who is she?”

“No one,” Ted mutters. He takes the box and stuffs it back into the nightstand, embarrassed. “It’s not for anyone.”

She stands next to his bed and sits on it, stiff and straight-backed.

“You wanted to talk?”

Andromeda nods and runs her finger along Ted’s faded quilt, a memento from his grandmother.

“I can’t marry him.”

Ted’s in his hard dining chair. He holds onto the edge, sure he’s heard incorrectly.

“You don’t want to marry Lestrange,” he says cautiously.

“No. I want to be with someone else.”

Ted blinks at her. He wants to hope he’s that someone, but he’s been wrong before.

“’Dromeda . . . can you tell me why you’re here?” It’s late and he’s exhausted, and if she’s only here to break his heart again he’s afraid he’ll say something cruel.

“Ted, I love you,” she says quietly, looking down at her shoes. “Do you still love me?”

“I do, of course I do.”

“Would you . . .” She’s wringing her hands in her lap and shivering. It’s not cold in his flat, and her obvious distress is worrying. “Please, would you want to . . . you can say no, obviously . . . I’ve been horrid to you . . .”

He closes the space between them and falls to his knees, taking her hands in his.

“Andromeda,” he says, “if you’re asking me if I want to be with you, the answer is yes.”

“It’s more,” she whispers. “I can’t go back. If I’m with you, they’ll never take me back.”

His brow furrowing deeply, Ted frowns. “Your family won’t want you to visit?”

“Visit, say hello, write . . . they won’t even acknowledge me if I do this.”

It hits Ted like a ton of bricks. The decision was never between him and Rabastan Lestrange. It was between him, a Muggleborn she’s known for two years, and the family she’s loved her whole life. He thought he was competing with a rich pureblood, but he was competing against the family that raised her.

“What,” he manages to say shakily, “do you want? What is the ‘ this ’ you’re suggesting?”

“I want to be with you forever, Ted Tonks. Not just at school or in secret.”

“It sounds like you want me to marry you.”

Andromeda won’t look at him. She lets go of his hands and hugs herself, leaning forward, as if she wants to hide. Ted glances at the drawer where he stuffed the engagement ring. She’s declared herself, choosing him over her family.

He worries that he’s not strong enough to be her whole family from now on.

He fears she’ll regret leaving them.

Despite it all, he wants her. He wants her more than magic.

Reaching to pull the wooden knob on the drawer, he comes to a decision. The ring belongs to her and she belongs with him.

The box comes out and he lifts the lid. Andromeda’s lifted her gaze. She’s blushing from the roots of her hair down to her neck and he wonders if her heart is thumping as madly as his.

“Andromeda Black,” he says reverently, her name like a prayer on his lips, “will you marry me?”

Her lips are parted and her eyes are wide. Ted pushes a tuft of fine brown hair away from her face.

“Is this really for me?” she asks, looking down at the glittery, modest ring in his hand.

“The ring was always for you, ‘Dromeda. I bought it last summer—”

Her lips find his, urgent and wanting. She hasn’t said so in words, and he’ll check soon, but he thinks she’s agreed to marry him.

They’re lying in his narrow bed, limbs intertwined, and Andromeda’s wearing her new engagement ring. They celebrated immediately with a smashing reunion. It’s three o’clock in the morning and Ted’s ready to sleep, but Andromeda (his fiancée ) is running her fingers down his chest.

“Ted,” she says, “can we get married soon?”

“I’ll marry you tomorrow, ‘Dromeda,” he says, half-joking.

“Can we really?” She sits up and kisses him. “Are you serious? Can we get married tomorrow?”

Ted feels a burst of energy. “You want to get married tomorrow . . . as in, today-tomorrow? Saturday?”

“I know you’re free—”

“—how?”

“—I paid off the wizard in charge of your schedule,” she confesses, laying her head on his chest. “I had to know you’d be here and—”

“Wait,” Ted says. “You’re the reason I got the weekend off? You planned this?”

“Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m not, surprisingly, but I wish you’d told me.”

“I couldn’t get away.”

Andromeda’s body is soft and warm against his. He can’t find it within him to be upset that she’s been planning to run away with him for who-knows-how-long.

It isn’t as if he hasn’t been planning his life with her for years.

“Okay,” he says, drawing out the word, “we can get married today, but will you let me tell my parents? I don’t want to do this without telling them.”

“Will they like me?”

“I think so?” Ted’s unsure they’ll welcome her with open arms after what he’s told them, but even if they dislike her, they’ll never disown him. “But . . . how will we get married today? Don’t we need to give notice to the Ministry? That’s how it works for Muggles.”

Andromeda’s silence is incriminating.

Ted bursts into laughter. “All right, all right. You either did the paperwork or forged it. Where are we getting married?”

“Scotland,” Andromeda mumbles. “Gretna Green.”

He’s still chuckling when he says, “Kind of funny, isn’t it? That’s where Muggles have been eloping for ages.” He sobers, thinking of how hard it will be to get his parents to agree to joining them for a clandestine wedding. It’s a six hour drive at least.

“This is what we’ll do, sweetheart,” he says, surprised by how easily the term of endearment slips off his tongue, “we’ll pop by my folks’ in the morning. If they’re willing to Apparate or drive, we’ll get married today. If not . . . maybe next time I’ve got a day off?”

There’s a short silence, but Andromeda agrees, and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Joseph and Doris Tonks are startled when their son arrives to see them on Saturday morning with a witch on his arm. Ted smiles sheepishly at them and introduces the witch as his fiancée, Andromeda, and asks them to come to Scotland for a hasty wedding.

“Edward,” Doris says sharply, upon hearing the news, “is this young woman pregnant?”

“No!” Andromeda replies. “It’s not like that—it’s my family—I want them to know I choose Ted, forever.”

“You have to leave your family for him?” Joseph asks, arching a silver brow at her.

“It’s probably too late now,” Ted replies, squeezing her hand. “She was supposed to get married today.”

“I’ve sent back three owls already,” Andromeda mumbles. “There will be more.”

“Is this safe?” asks Doris. “Will our son be safe with you?”

“They won’t hurt him,” Andromeda says. “I won’t let them.”

Ted grips her hand harder. “It will be hard, but not impossible. We talked this morning and I’m going to find a new place for us to live.”

“Leaving that flat already?” Joseph crosses his arms disapprovingly.

“It’s not big enough for two,” Doris tells him. “It’s barely big enough to sneeze in.”

“With what funds, son?”

“’Dromeda has her own gold,” Ted tells his father. “It’s more than enough to find us a place to live.”

“I already found a few places,” Andromeda says, which shouldn’t be news to Ted, but the woman’s got so much planned he ought to stop worrying.

“What is it you do for work, Andromeda?” asks Doris. Ted’s thankful his mother seems to be warming to his almost-wife.

“I’m quite good with fashion. Madam Malkin, the owner of the robe shop, said she’ll hire me.”

Ted smiles encouragingly at her. It was always a dream for her to design clothing, and if she’d married Lestrange, she’d be kept in a grand manor. Though they could squeak by on his Healer trainee income alone, Ted’s happy to have the extra income, and even happier that it will come with Andromeda’s joy.

“Can you give us a few minutes, dear?” Doris asks Ted. “Why don’t you show Andromeda your old room?”

Ted offers Andromeda his hand and takes her upstairs. She asks adorable questions about the things she sees along the way (the toaster is particularly intriguing), and they go up to give his parents some time.

The trip to Gretna Green takes seven hours. Joseph and Doris agree to come to the sudden wedding, on the condition that they all go by car so they can get to know their future daughter-in-law. Ted readily agrees, Andromeda has to be convinced to go inside the ‘death trap,’ and after he adds a few charms to the vehicle to assuage her fears, they pack into the mint green Ford Corsair and drive north.

They arrive at a tavern and present the paperwork to the contact Andromeda made. The marriage takes place upstairs, in a private room, with the barkeep acting as the officiant. The wedding is nothing like what Ted envisioned for himself, but less than forty-eight hours ago, he thought marrying Andromeda was an impossibility. He thought she’d be getting married on 14 August 1971, not to him, but to Rabastan Lestrange.

Instead, she walks down a short aisle at dusk as the newly minted Andromeda Tonks.

Ted loves the way her name sounds.

16 August 1971

Extracting himself from bed is a feat of sheer willpower on Monday morning. Ted slept in a new bed, purchased the day before, after he and Andromeda returned from their night in Scotland. It takes up all the floor space in his flat, but Andromeda promised that within a week they’ll have a new home big enough for the two of them.

He wishes he could stay in bed with his wife, but reality comes crashing down and he’s got to be at the hospital in a half hour. He wonders which of his patients have progressed enough that they went home, and which ones he’ll be seeing for the first time that day.

Andromeda is asleep. It’s a privilege, getting to see her in this peaceful state. She’s radiant in the morning light, bathed in sunlight streaming through the window, and it takes Olympian effort not to jump back into bed with her.

He dresses in his lime green robes, happier than he can remember, and takes the short walk to St. Mungo’s.

Omar is the first person he sees in the Healers’ lounge.

“Good morning, Omar,” he greets cheerfully, preparing himself a cup of tea. “How was your weekend?”

“Not as good as yours, I’d imagine,” Omar laughs. “Did you go dancing?”

“Only a little,” Ted replies. He grins and leans back against the cupboard. “I did something even better.”

Omar’s perceptive smile doesn’t know half of what Ted's done.

“I eloped!”

Omar's coffee comes crashing down. They can't clean it up, as there's an urgent call for Healers on the third floor.

As they run out of the lounge, Omar shouts back at Ted, telling him that as soon as he’s got a minute, he wants to hear all about Ted’s new wife, even if they’ve got to let Mrs. Malkin burn down her room.