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Songbirds greet Andromeda as soon as she materializes in a narrow, brick-lined alleyway. It’s sunnier here than in London and the rays are nearly blinding.
Ted squeezes her hand.
“We’ll walk for a few minutes,” he tells her, kissing her cheek. “Is that all right?”
“Yes, of course it is,” she replies, smiling brightly at her husband. They eloped a mere week ago and she’s never smiled so much in her life. It hurt to leave her family, but she’s happy. Almost suspiciously happy.
“C’mon.” Ted tugs on her hand and leads her away from the alley.
They’re in a bustling, smallish commercial area that’s busy with Muggles. She’s dressed in a new pair of trousers and a flowery blouse, feeling awkward in her new clothes, but she thinks she successfully blends in as Ted leads her away from the shopping district.
“It’s not far,” he says, his honey blonde fringe flopping over his eyes. He brushes it back with his free hand and points out the community garden nearby.
The butterflies in Andromeda’s stomach are fluttering wildly. The last week has been spent in a haze of passionate lovemaking with Ted and buried under bolts of fabric at Madam Malkin’s shop, where she’s newly employed (for the first time in her life, she needs the money). She emptied her vault at Gringotts when she ran away, leaving Rabastan at the altar, and she discovered three days into her marriage that her childhood savings were nowhere near enough to buy a suitable home in London.
Having never had to budget before, Andromeda could only find the dingiest, dirtiest flats and confessed as much to Ted. Expecting he’d be disappointed, as they were living in his thimble-sized flat and needed additional space, he only chuckled and told her that he’d happily find them their first home, so long as she trusted him and didn’t mind moving outside of London.
She did mind, a little, as the best shops were in London, but Ted was so eager to provide his help that Andromeda relented. She’d been the one to surprise him in the dead of the night, giving him almost no choice but to elope with her the next day, and he’d agreed.
Now they walk down a charming lane in a Muggle town, fingers interlaced, and her new husband is grinning back at her.
Ted is much too good for her, she thinks, as he winks and turns into a cobblestone lane. The sun shines on his hair, giving him an almost angelic halo around his head. Where he is all light and goodness, she feels dark, but as they step along the lane, further in the sunshine, she feels the worries slipping away.
He loves her and she loves him. He’s found them a home in less than a week and while the area is thoroughly Muggle, she’ll hold her head high and find her place.
Ted stops her ahead of the next curve.
“Will you close your eyes?”
Andromeda frowns. “Why?”
“I want to surprise you.” Ted stands before her, holding her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs on her palms. “It’s just ‘round the bend. I want to see your face when you open your eyes.”
Andromeda doesn’t want to deny him anything, not when he’s beaming at her, with his eyes full of love.
She closes her eyes and lets him lead the way. He tells her when she needs to watch her step, and in less than twenty paces he stops her again, telling her to keep her eyes closed.
“I’m going to spin you around,” he murmurs. He places his big hands on her shoulders and turns her in a half-circle. She’s no longer facing the sun; a shadow cools her face. “Open your eyes, Mrs. Tonks.”
It takes a moment for Andromeda’s eyes to adjust. She’s standing in front of a beige-brick home with a white front door and a big bay window to its left. There are two good-sized windows on the second floor. The home isn’t big, but it’s charming, and there’s a dirt patch that looks ready for flowers.
“What do you think?”
“Can we go in?” Andromeda asks, a touch disappointed the house isn’t grander.
Ted takes her hand and leads her up to the front door, unlocking it manually. Expecting him to open the door for her, she waits for him to turn the knob.
A little line forms between Ted’s eyebrows. “Would you like me to carry you in, ‘Dromeda?”
“Why would I want that?”
Ted lightly snorts. “It’s a tradition, you know. The groom carries his bride into their home. You haven’t heard of it?” She shakes her head at him and he rolls his eyes. “Then allow me, Mrs. Tonks.”
A surprised yelp escapes her lips when his hands come up behind her thighs. He’s stronger than she knew and being held against his chest makes her heart flutter violently in her chest.
With a wiggle from his arm, the doorknob turns and Ted carries her across the threshold.
It’s brighter inside the home than she anticipated. The walls are painted a soft white, and unlike the dark banisters and deep wood tones in her childhood home, everything in this house is warm, airy, and light.
Ted sets her down and gestures to the room on their left.
The parlor isn’t large. It’s the only parlor in the home, she believes, which sends another pang of disappointment through her mind. She feels guilty for feeling this way; she knew she would no longer have the best of the best, and she tries not to care, but it’s hard, adjusting to this new life.
“I know it’s not as big as you hoped,” Ted says softly, leading her to the fireplace. “When we’ve got more money we can move, but I think you’ll be happy here. Come with me—I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
Andromeda learns the fireplace is already connected to the Floo network. The kitchen is newly remodeled with the latest Muggle gadgets, most of which she doesn’t know how to use. Ted promises he’ll teach her how to cook, beyond using a toaster oven, boasting that the house has one of the biggest kitchens they could afford. There’s enough room for a good-size table for four, ensuring Ted’s parents will always be able to come for dinner, and another twinge troubles Andromeda’s soul.
She knows her parents and sisters will never deign to step anywhere near this place. She’s happy with Ted, but it hurts, knowing this is how they choose to be.
Ted leads her up the stairs, claiming there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms awaiting them. There’s a half-bathroom downstairs, for guest use, and he informs her that it was nigh impossible to find a home with two separate upstairs bathrooms, but he did it, knowing how Andromeda liked to have her own space.
The largest bedroom is smaller than her childhood one, but Ted’s saying it’s massive, compared to what they could get in London for the same price. It’s anticlimactic when he shows her the ensuite bathroom which has both a shower and a separate tub—another Muggle luxury, evidently—and she stifles the disappointed sigh at seeing the tiny space.
“If—or when,” Ted says, the handsome smile still gracing his face, “we have children, they can go in this room.” He shows her the second bedroom, which has three windows. Andromeda’s heart clenches; she and Ted have spoken about children, but she’s terrified of having one, afraid of what her family will do to a half-blood.
Ted’s not worried. Andromeda’s barely listening as he gives her the plans to paint a mural on the wall for whatever babies they have. A vision of Ted, holding a little boy with hair just like his, grips Andromeda.
The room isn’t luxurious or whimsical like her own girlhood nursery, but it’s got the potential to be cheerful and comfortable, a safe space for a tiny witch or wizard to grow up in.
“And if we have more than a couple,” continues Ted, winking at her, “we’ve got a third bedroom over here.” An even teenier room, scarcely roomier than a cupboard, is passed off as a bedroom. “My cousins, Jack and Bob, shared a bedroom about this size. They had a bunk bed that took up most of the space, so my Aunt Meg would send them out to the garden.” He laughs and adds something about needing to reinforce the roof if they’ve got a gaggle of magical kids underneath it.
Andromeda attempts to hide her surprise. Raising more than two children in this humble home would be difficult, and she tries to remember that both she and Ted will make more gold. This home is temporary, she reminds herself.
“What do you think?” Ted asks, his smile beginning to fade. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“It’s . . . charming.”
Ted huffs, but there’s no sign of annoyance in his face. His hand finds her waist and he draws her close.
“I know, ‘Dromeda. It’s not what you’re used to, but we’ll make this a happy home. You and me—we’ll work hard, save up gold, and then I’ll buy you whatever you want. I’ll work double shifts if I’ve got to. It’ll take me time, but I’ll get there, sweetheart. I promise. I’ll get you the house you deserve.”
Swallowing the lump that’s gathered in her throat, Andromeda leans into Ted, glad when he wraps his arms around her. He’s kind, much too kind for his own good, and Andromeda realizes that while it will take time to get used to her new surroundings, she can make it a home.
She imagines the Christmas tree they’ll put up in the parlor, right in front of the big bay window so their neighbors can see the lights and the baubles they put on it. She thinks of the two of them getting ready for their days in their bathroom, and then a little child with golden blonde hair will walk in and greet them with a huge smile, just like Ted’s.
“Thank you, Ted,” she whispers, clutching his thin shirt. “It’s perfect. Our first home is perfect.”
He relaxes into her. His shoulders slump forward and he holds her tighter, letting his nose drop into her hair. He presses soft kisses on her neck, breathing hard as his lips come up to the shell of her ear.
Then, in a breathy, hushed tone that she’s come to associate with their intimate activities, sending a shiver down her spine, he speaks.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Tonks.”