Incurable Romantic

"I believe in hope, dreams and decency, love, tenderness, and kindness. I believe in mankind." Edward Ted Tonks. former badger. proud muggleborn. disgruntled ministry employee.

[andromedablackism-blog]

dust to dust ➤ oct. 1978

[abouttonks]

andromedablackism:

Ted wasn’t entirely off the mark. It was something that they had both done and said that had changed her mind. She noticed his use of a ‘them’, drawing an intangible distinction between who the pair of them were in this shoddy office and the many identities her family shifted through as quickly as replacing a mask. It struck her in a way Andromeda hadn’t quite expected, the implication that Ted was on her side against a ‘them’ that he spoke of. Perhaps this entire mess would be far easier if it could be that simple. 

It was the way he made it sound — as though she’d been victim to threats — that had her shaking her head. Because she had received threats, even if she chose not to acknowledge them as such. Narcissa’s honey-sweet image of an isolated existence stripped of any meaning was more of a threat than Andromeda wanted to admit. Perhaps it was that sort of talk that had pushed her to resign, but it was far too buried beneath carefully-worded affections and ginger embraces for her to see it that way. As much as she wanted to refute his assumption, it was his pledge to protect her — you’re not alone — that left any objections stuck in her throat. Narcissa had promised something similar even if in a context of navigating a loveless engagement. 

She cleared her throat once, swallowing the lump that had mysteriously appeared, and instead tried to keep her gaze steady on his. “I’m too afraid for you to let you do that.” The honesty fell from her lips of its own accord. “Edgar mentioned how silly it is, for both of us to operate that way. To walk on eggshells for the sake of protecting the other. But I can’t help that it’s the way I think.” The wince didn’t escape her notice, and it occurred to her that perhaps his bar fight had been far more political than he’d initially said. As much as she wanted to press him, the urge sudden, she suppressed it. “A ring on my finger protects more people than the alternative might.” That was true, too, a rather despicable reality of the world she lived in. Any rumors circulating of her wavering loyalty would dissipate, her family saved a world of hurt, even Ted himself less in danger if he no longer posed the threat that she was sure Cissa or Bella believed. 

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she paused for a beat. “At any rate, it isn’t what you think. There was no wand held to my throat. It was just made clear to me that this was a necessary step if I wanted to maintain a positive relationship with any of them.” Her voice grew quieter, more hesitant. “I haven’t made them — my parents, I suppose, and my sisters — happy like this in a long time.” She internally cringed at how weak it sounded, wishing there was a better way to articulate how she felt when it went so adamantly against Ted’s own opinion of the matter. Taking a deep breath, her eyes flickered to the side of his chest he was favoring. “On a separate note, you should let me look at that before you go back to work. Two birds with one stone. I’ll talk as little or as much as you’d like of my impending doom while I do.” She meant the last bit as a joke, a delicate attempt to lighten the tension in the room.

He swallowed thickly, hating that he played any part in her reasoning. But it was difficult to argue against something when he was guilty of doing practically the same thing. Worse, perhaps, when he had all but resented Edgar’s attempts to trivialize his concerns, pointing out that the very barriers Ted spoke of (and Andromeda too, he supposed) were nothing more than a nuisance - just a thing to be knocked aside if they merely tried. Now, as everything seemed to spiral so quickly out of control, Ted wished he was the sort of person that could do exactly that. But then the potential threat of physical harm became less immediate with Andromeda’s denial (though a part of him wasn’t entirely sure he could trust her judgment on that), his heart slowed to a more steady beat, and they were back to the same problem that they had circled in his backyard (and so many times before it). “Does it?” There was no bite to his tone - Andromeda’s demeanor made that impossible - but it was still the one flaw in her argument that Ted couldn’t let go. “Because some might say that it’s part of a system designed to divide and squash anyone that’s not a pureblood.”

But her next admission - a simple thing but deeply personal all the same - did have him biting his tongue. The argument was right there. Because it seemed pretty clear to Ted that any positive behavior from her family had very little to do with Andromeda herself and, very likely, more the fact that she was doing only what they expected of her. Something so shallow couldn’t possibly sustain itself. Not to match the length of the lifelong commitment they were asking from her at any rate. But this wasn’t a justification she was telling herself to make it better - this was something she wanted. Possibly longed for. It seemed almost cruel to point out such a truth and potentially snatch the rug out from under her. More likely, however, it fell in line with what he’d told Edgar. That she simply wasn’t ready to hear it yet.

The flaws remained readily apparent, however. It hadn’t been that long ago that Andromeda had sat on his back porch and sprouted off a long list of grievances her family held against her. It had seemed to extend into every part of her life and it was why the attempted joke received a raised eyebrow rather than anything resembling a smile. Because she had viewed it as exactly that, something to dread, and Ted couldn’t imagine that her opinions on an arranged marriage had all but changed overnight.

It was why he stood, taking the opportunity she gave him, ignoring the fear of Andromeda somehow discovering the truth behind his injury in favor of simply keeping her in front of him for a few minutes more. “I guess my concern then, Andromeda, is that you’re not marrying your family.” He spoke carefully, keeping his focus fully on her even as he unbuttoned his shirt and rolled up the undershirt beneath it, stopping just above the rib in question. “And while it’s a wonderful thing to want to make them happy, it’s also a pretty big sacrifice if that’s your only reason. Especially when it wasn’t even the only source behind the tension between you. Are you going to have to bend on everything else too?  And what about your new fiance,” he swallowed, disliking the taste of the words in his mouth, but knowing that it was truly the more important thing to focus on - the sort of man she would be tied to for the rest of her life.  “Rowle, you said? How well do you know him?”

[andromedablackism-blog]

dust to dust ➤ oct. 1978

[abouttonks]

andromedablackism:

The dejected ‘oh’ coupled with solemn-sounding thump of his body easing into a seat was plenty to envision the look on Ted’s face. With their friendship being as fragile as it was, Andromeda was caught in a strange place, unable to deduct whether she was overreacting or not. Because in reality, Ted didn’t have a true reason to be invested in her life. She could count the conversations they’d had in the past five years on one hand. He had certainly expressed his concern thoroughly the last time they’d spoken, a truth that was hard to swallow but true all the same, but perhaps he would have done the same for anyone. That was the beauty of Ted, really. He was kind to everyone whom crossed his path unless they offered a reason not to be. The rapport he had offered her might not have been any different to a courtesy he’d extend to a stranger on the street.

In her own mind, telling Ted of her engagement felt like a big deal, enough for her to subconsciously rush out of her flat early in the morning to tell him in person when she hadn’t even thought to owl her sisters. Deep down, Andromeda knew exactly why that was. But she wouldn’t dare speak it aloud, even think it, because it was both impossible and likely an unreciprocated attachment. It was exactly the sort of thing she couldn’t dwell upon in her current circumstance. 

The silence that stretched between them felt infinte. She had glanced up at the sound of scratching parchment, only to catch him filling out some sort of form. His alibi, she supposed. Perhaps he was writing out just exactly how she had described the singing toilets in this imaginary scenario of theirs. The contrast of it - the seriousness of how she felt, the ridiculousness of the words he was writing out - very nearly alleviated the amassing apprehension that threatened to spill over as he failed to say anything else. Instead she was left with only circular, overly-analytical thoughts to keep herself company. Maybe she ought to leave. She knew he’d disapprove of it based on their last conversation, and was far too familiar with the way affection and companionship could be retracted the moment it was tainted with disappointment. 

It was why the scratching of his chair on the worn floorboards failed to surprise her. Now that Andromeda had done what she’d came for, there was no reason for him to linger. She was already struggling to recall just how many floors up to the Atrium it would be in the lift - had it been four or five? - when his next gesture did surprise her. Rather than heading to the door to escort her out with a polite smile, he’d settled across from her. His hand resting on her shoulder stumped her into a temporary silence. If that hadn’t been enough to leave her shell-shocked, the warmth in his tone was the final blow. She wondered if the disbelief was written as plainly across her face as it felt once she lifted her chin to look him in the eye. “I think I do have to.” Not wanting to sound as though she was disregarding his initial advice, she paused, then backpedaled. “I was going to talk to my Mother over lunch, tell her how I felt and hopefully try to reach some sort of compromise. A ‘give and take’, remember? But before I properly could she’d whisked us off to the Rowles’. I gave her an earful about it once we came back home, but…” She trailed off, partially unwilling to admit what had truly happened and partially unsure how to explain it. Discovering she wanted the love and approval she’d scoffed at for so many years felt oddly embarrassing. Perhaps Ted would fill in the blanks. “At any rate, I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

The look on her face - somewhat incredulous, he thought - gave him pause and he realized, perhaps, that he must have crossed one of those unspoken lines. Lines he still didn’t quite know how to define, the odd contrast between the intensity of their discussions and the rarity in which they actually spoke making for murky waters, further complicated by something deeper (and likely inappropriate) he couldn’t quite shake. And just like that the thumb tracing gentle circles on her shoulder stopped (an old habit that he likely shouldn’t have fallen back into quite so easily considering the circumstances), knuckles just grazing her arm before finally falling back into his lap. He leaned back a bit too, wanting to give her space without pushing away completely, while his brow furrowed in concentration, trying to take in all of what she said.

He nodded when she prompted him, offering an encouraging smile of sorts, even as he decided against pointing out that he had ultimately backtracked on that exact advice. Their conversation that day had continued in such a way that Ted had been forced to realize, unfortunately, that what should work simply wouldn’t. Not when her family operated on a level so intense that Ted didn’t think he would ever truly understand it, let alone discover the secret to actually navigating the complex dynamic. Not without taking on their own approach of all or nothing. Still. Ted was just glad to hear that at least some of what he’d said had somehow sunk in. Because even if it probably wouldn’t have worked in her exact situation, it was important. And maybe it was just as important to try. To compare and contrast. To understand how relationships should work and to realize how that particular one wasn’t. It certainly wasn’t fair to her, not when her family was all but backing her into a corner, attempting to mold her into a person that she clearly wasn’t instead of simply accepting her as she was.

But it was for that same reason that Ted didn’t get where he maybe should have when Andromeda trailed off. Despite her assurances that her family would never purposefully hurt her (which didn’t really offer any comfort or peace of mind), Ted found that he couldn’t find it in himself to give them the benefit of the doubt as he maybe would have before.  It didn’t help, perhaps, that the world now seemed so much darker than the days of sneaking around, trying to find a place they wouldn’t be seen together. Then, as far as he’d understood it anyway, his blood simply meant he was beneath her, unworthy. But now such things prompted widespread terror, just talking apparently warranted an Unbreakable Vow, and just a pencil could somehow justify an attack and torture. It set his imagination off, prompting all sorts of dark, horrific scenarios to materialize. Things like manipulation and threats and more deadly promises. Just the possibility of it made it difficult to breathe and he tugged on his collar as his heart took on a fear-filled gallop that echoed so fast and so loud inside his own head that it almost seemed impossible that Andromeda wouldn’t somehow hear it herself. 

All of it made any sort of resignation on her part suddenly unacceptable and again, still gentle but a bit firmer too, he insisted, “You don’t. Andromeda, whatever they said or did to make you think that ….” Forgetting himself for a moment, he took a deep breath in the effort to calm himself (this really wasn’t the right place to get worked up) and then winced at the sharp pain it inspired. He ignored it though, letting it act as nothing more than a reminder of the potential stakes, spurring him on. “You’re not alone. I’ll help you. And Edgar. Florence, too. We can figure something out. Protect you, even, if you need it.”  Well, Edgar and Florence more likely. Ted could barely protect himself. But he’d try. 

[andromedablackism-blog]

dust to dust ➤ oct. 1978

[abouttonks]

andromedablackism:

Struggling to recall if Ted had ever mentioned playing childhood sports during their time together (she certainly knew he’d never seriously touched a broomstick), she tried to envision him tackling someone else to the ground and failed. She recognized football as being another Muggle sport she didn’t know very much about. A number of their conversations had transpired in such a way once, where Andromeda had been genuinely curious in a number of Muggle traditions; Ted would mention another mysterious concept in the midst of a different long-winded explanation, and she’d prompt him right into another. It was tempting to slip into old habits had it not been vastly inappropriate given the somber circumstances that brought her there in the first place.

At any rate, any inclination to drift into idle chatter died the moment she trailed after him into the Muggle Liason office. The shift in environment was tangible. Even Ted’s posture changed, his broad shoulders tightening as though pulled taught by an invisible string, and she was reminded of just how sad he’d looked when he’d last talked about his job. No wonder he’d spoken of it so cheerlessly. Nothing about the streamlined desks, the neatly organized sheafs of parchment and distant sound of the ticking clock above the door, appealed to her in the slightest. It was the very job she knew she’d be horrible at just by looking at it, really. She could barely hold a serious conversation lately without pacing holes into the floor. Spending hours chained to a desk sounded like a nightmare. She dipped her chin in a distant nod, so distracted that she didn’t notice his hovering palm.

Andromeda was sure by the time he’d returned, she appeared visibly self-conscious. Despite most of his coworkers ignoring her presence entirely, this wasn’t what she had intended. Barging into his workplace, potentially making him late, and inspiring some sort of strange Ministry gossip (she wondered if Ministry workers gossiped with Narcissa-level intensity) had all been accidental consequences of an impulse decision. But it was silly for her to imagine that he didn’t have a place to be, and she hadn’t exactly left him with any other choice than to tote her down to his desk. As much as she wanted to express as much, she was nearly afraid to speak too loudly lest she disrupt the bizarre ambiance of the office. It wasn’t until she’d followed him into the small conference room and the door clicked shut that she spoke again. 

“Sorry - I’m not going to get you into trouble by being here, am I? I’m realizing I didn’t exactly think this through.” At least the sentiment was honest. Aware that he likely didn’t have time to waffle about, she sunk herself into a seat. “But yes. I did.” She had ever intention of just coming out and saying it - ripping off the plaster, so to speak - but suddenly felt as though her throat was full of cotton. After all, Andromeca could already anticipate what his reaction would be. The years had nurtured an ability to accurately predict these sorts of things, particularly when it was something under the umbrella of disappointing. Was it an overreaction to feel as though she was letting Ted down even with their friendship still being so fresh? She swallowed, then proceeded. “My mother’s sorted out a betrothal. I found out yesterday. And I didn’t want you to find out from the papers.” Unwilling to see the look on his face, she glanced down at her lap. 

“It’s fine, honestly, please don’t worry about it.” He carefully avoided the no that would be a lie and the yes that would potentially inspire more guilt. And really, Ted didn’t mind. He wished, of course, that he worked somewhere with a bit more leeway on these sorts of things or, better yet, that he hadn’t used up all his sick days. In fact, “Normally, I’d just skive off, but I’ve done a little too much of that lately so,” he grinned, something between reassuring and apologetic, “if anyone asks then you’re from York and saw someone selling a muggle a singing toilet.” The smile soon faded, however, Ted sobering in those few moments she struggled to continue and when she finally did, all thoughts of his job and being late and the potential consequences of that just disappeared.

In fact, everything went fuzzy and then kinda blank and Ted just sank into the chair opposite her with a heavy, weighted down, “Oh.” Anything beyond that didn’t want to materialize and it made Ted suddenly grateful that he thought to bring the form and a pen to fill it out. It was a trick he had picked up a long time ago now, and even if it looked like he had stopped paying attention, the truth was that it helped him concentrate, fighting off the frustration that came with focusing on some impossible thing for too long. The mundanity of it helped, Ted had completed the thing so many times now that he could have done it in his sleep. Which was lucky considering the words had seemed to rearrange themselves into something nonsensical - a problem Ted hadn’t seriously struggled with since school when he’d found himself facing a particularly challenging lesson. So he took extra care, forming letters carefully until the fog plaguing his mind seemed to clear, thoughts forming, allowing him to focus on the actual situation in front of him.

It occurred to him briefly, based on their last conversation, that this could have been the decision Andromeda ultimately came to based on his parting words. But then everything else sank in too, and he all but discarded it as a possibility. Her mother had sorted it, she had said, followed by the fact that she found out yesterday. Both came together to suggest an arrangement in which Andromeda had merely been an afterthought. Or, at least, not a part of the process in making the decision. About her life. He felt another jolt of uncharacteristic anger bubble up, this time on her behalf, and on the form he took a moment to put down random numbers next to the question asking for a date, allowing the familiar action to soothe him, kicking yet another part of his brain into gear.

He had, perhaps, allowed too much time to pass in silence when clearly Andromeda had sought him out in a sense of urgency, or perhaps desperation. Because she couldn’t really be that worried that he’d find out from the paper considering the rocky end to the few conversations they had, right? And now - focused on her lap and unable to meet his eyes - she seemed so uncertain and vulnerable that it made distance seem like the last thing that was necessary. And just like that Ted was trading one side of the table for hers, sliding a chair until his knees were just a breath away from her own. He might have even knelt in front of her if he didn’t think the pain of it would distract him from everything else. “Hey,” he said softly, a hand reaching out and finding a shoulder to squeeze reassuringly as he tilted his head a bit, hoping that would catch her eye and get her to meet his gaze. “It’s like we talked about, right? It’s your life. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” It was infinitely more complicated than that, he knew, but in that particular moment it felt like the most important thing of all.

[abouttonks]

flowerswakefield:

Florence chuckled. “Oh yeah, nah, totally, I don’t think there will be any double dates for a while.” She tilted her head. “I don’t know man, I just hope that Alana leaves them be. Y’know I’m chill with everyone and all, no judgement, but the way she handled the whole twins situation was not groovy at all.” She nodded enthusiastically. “She did! She didn’t want to admit it but she totally did! I don’t know why people are so afraid to love each other. Love is the most beautiful thing in the world.” Florence’s eyebrows rose at his reveal. “Oh. That’s a thing. I mean, it’s totally rad but, y’know. What did she say?”

“It is,” said Ted, the agreement coming easily. Just as easily as the next bit unfortunately, “But it hurts a lot too. Just look at the Alana situation. Edgar got burned pretty bad. It’s not easy letting yourself be vulnerable after something like that.” Still, Ted shrugged and grinned, “They both like each other though so they should get there eventually.” He nodded his agreement because … well, yeah. “A lot of things, really. Her life is just as complicated as before,” he waffled a bit, “more so, actually. But it was nice to see her again.”  

[andromedablackism-blog]

dust to dust ➤ oct. 1978

[abouttonks]

andromedablackism:

Imagining Ted in a bar fight seemed tremendously out-of-character. Her frown deepened, coupled by a worried crease between her eyes as her gaze flickered to the side he’d gestured to. She was glad, at least, that he hadn’t tried to cover it up or pretend as though he wasn’t hurt at all for the sake of not worrying her, though by the way he immediately launched into a story of his brother’s Rugby injury she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else he was trying to distract her from. It was a common tactic, after all, one that Andromeda was well-learned in herself. But a rib was generally a serious injury. More than just bruised knuckles or a scrape. The jarring halt of the elevator and the accompanying wince did nothing to dissipate her growing concern. “Ah. I see.”

With that being said, she let him continue to speak of Henry without interruption. She didn’t have any intention of letting the issue go, of course; it was nearly a welcome distraction to cling onto in lieu of her impending association with Thorfinn Rowle. Stitching people back together was something she could do in her sleep, rather than navigating the treacherous waters of discussing an arranged marriage with Ted. But she nodded in the right places, pocketing the knowledge until they’d properly gotten to…wherever it was they were going. In fact, it only just then occurred to Andromeda that she was potentially about to see the office he worked in once the doors to the lift had slid open. 

The only Ministry offices Andromeda had ever properly seen were within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, whether the reason had been visiting Rabastan or dropping something off for the investigative team covering the recent chaos. And even then, her glimpses had been sparse. She had always had the impression that the Ministry was this vast, untouchable thing that vaguely intimidated her. Something that was consequence of her upbringing surely, where brushing elbows with Ministry officials was meant to be some sort of privilege no matter how much their personalities reeked of arse. Instead, she was surprised to find them strolling down a tremendously normal-looking hall, lined with doors labeling each office’s respective contents.

Realizing she’d said next to nothing, she dragged her attention from their surroundings to his story. “I don’t know very much about Rugby - it’s a more physical sort of sport, isn’t it?” she asked. “Though I suppose it couldn’t be any more dangerous than Quidditch. I reckon bruised ribs are the least of their worries. I’ve heard horror stories from the Quidditch mediwizards in passing about all sorts of awful things that happen to them if they’ve fallen off a broomstick.” She shot him a sideways glance. “But for the record, you aren’t going to get away with me not having a look at…whatever sort of battle wound you’ve earned in this bar fight of yours.” She had deducted from his long-winded explanation that he hadn’t had it properly looked at (something she could guessed, based on the heavy scent of the salve - only someone trying to avoid proper medical attention would have layered that much on at once). 

“You could say that, yeah.” Ted used to think it was one of the more rougher sports. He still did, really, but it seemed wrong to give Rugby that title flat out when there was Quidditch to contend with. Still, he shrugged and did his best to give a decent explanation. “Rugby is … Well, it’s basically just football except you can touch the ball, and it’s like Quidditch except the bludgers are just humans plowing into each other. And no snitch, obviously.” That would just be silly. But of the three, Ted certainly preferred football. He never actually took to Quidditch. Or flying. The stories Andromeda hinted at a good reason why.

Her words likely should have inspired some sort of relief, he supposed, but Ted really only felt dread. Not that he wouldn’t be grateful for the help. He was. Truly. But it hadn’t even taken Andromeda the five floor trip down to Level Three to deduce something was wrong. And, as impossible as it seemed, he could only imagine the sorts of things she would gleam if he actually submitted to an examination (though he supposed he could relax a bit because it wasn’t like she could do it then and there, right?). He opened his mouth - perhaps to say a word of gratitude, or to try and insist that it wasn’t necessary - when the faded gold letters reading ‘Muggle Liaison Office’ on a door to their right saved him from answering.

The change was all but instant, and without really meaning to Ted’s typically relaxed posture stiffened, open features becoming somewhat guarded as he tugged on the door. Everything about it - the perfectly positioned desks, the somewhat hostile environment his boss inspired, and even the fake view magically supplied out the windows - felt like a cage. Today it was raining, and that was yet another reason Ted had been desperate to get out of the city. “I’ll be right back,” he told Andromeda, hand nearly landing on her back in one of those habitual reassuring gestures before he remembered himself, turning it into a quick point over his own shoulder.

He greeted some of his co-workers with a smile and others with a terse nod when he received a short “Tonks,” in passing, eyes scanning different forms as, behind him, one witch gossiped to another about something they had read in the paper. Finally, he pulled out what he was looking for and took a quick detour to find Lily (or whoever was filling in for her that day), stumbling over the excuse he had concocted in the elevator and asking her to please tell anyone who asked that he was here and working. He passed his desk  (which he had recently stripped of anything too personal like family pictures), shrugging out of his jacket before he grabbed a pen and, after motioning to Andromeda to follow, led them to a room in the back that they mostly used for meetings. It wasn’t much, just a few chairs surrounding a table, but it had a door and he gestured for her to sit as he closed it behind him. “Okay, so,” he tried to relax a bit, put on a reassuring smile, but it didn’t really work. He was far too aware of where they were and that, as much as she had tried to play it off before, there must be some urgency to what Andromeda had to say for her to seek him out like this, “You wanted to talk about something?”  

[abouttonks]

eddieboners:

“Oh right. Well, it’s harder when it comes to your own family I guess. No one likes to come out and admit their family is full of wankers. Look what happened to the Black kid. They still make his life hell every change they’ve got.” Edgar didn’t know Sirius very much, only from Order meeting and missions, but everyone in the community found out about the scandal of him leaving his family when it happened. “All right. Maybe I shouldn’t have meddled without knowing all of this. But still, I think she’ll be ready to see it eventually and when she is I hope you don’t miss your chance, because I still believe you could make each other happy.” He rolled his eyes. “and before you tell me you’re already happy, I meant happier.”

“Edgar Bones admitting that he might have been wrong? Imagine that.” Despite the teasing words, the grin Ted gave was still appreciative (both because he hoped that meant he wouldn’t do it again and because, despite everything, he did get that he meant well). Still, as he continued Ted felt that smile grow tighter. He wasn’t so sure. It was easy with just Andromeda, of course, and if they’d happened to live in a world where her family didn’t despise him then Ted would have no doubts that what Edgar predicted was true. But it was hard to imagine her family ever not being a factor. Not even if Andromeda came to the realization Edgar spoke of as the reality of what that would mean for her felt too grim. So much so that it seemed wrong to even hope for the chance to test the theory, let alone think it could be true. He didn’t want to put words to such uncertainty, however, so instead he joked, “I didn’t realize we were quantifying happiness now. Is there a scale with different levels? Because I’m pretty sure I’d be pretty close to the top if I just quit my job?”

[andromedablackism-blog]

dust to dust ➤ oct. 1978

[abouttonks]

andromedablackism:

Andromeda’s own experience with the Ministry was limited, able to count between her two hands the amount of times she’d stepped foot inside. Something about it felt even more chaotic than the hospital on its busiest day. Then again, she supposed it was all relative and Ted might have very well said the same thing in reverse, and really it was her news that had her on edge as it was rather than the bustling atrium. Their surroundings only magnified her apprehension. She offered a small smile, unable to keep from doing so even while her insides were doing all sorts of uncomfortable flips and twists. It occurred to her that this might be the only instance in which Ted’s company had failed to alleviate her nerves. “Yes. Well, sort of.” How in the world did she expect to bring this up - just come out and say it, as tactless as she approached everything else? She found herself desperately wishing she’d thought this through more thoroughly as she obligingly stepped past him into the lift.

Perhaps if it were not for the newly-contained space, the smell have escaped her notice. Her focus switched smoothly from whatever he was talking about to the sharp hint of medicinal peppermint that had begun to collect the moment the lift doors slid closed. And actually, it was vaguely herbal,. It might have been far too intimate or bizarre to boast of knowing how Ted typically smelt, but the scent reminded her more of the hospital than it did of him. She was sure she was only hallucinating due to a restless night’s sleep until the elevator jolted, and she caught it. The glimpse of a pained expression, gone as quickly as it’d come. A general image she witnessed at least three times a day. If Andromeda had a galleon for each time a patient tried to downplay the severity of an injury for the sake of saving face, she’d be able to replace her mother’s favorite French curtains thrice over.  

Andromeda refrained from commenting right away even as her own internal turmoil was promptly replaced by a wave of concern. “What? Oh - Edgar. Right.” She shook her head dismissively. “He didn’t upset me or anything. It isn’t about him. After all, he was only looking out for you.” For us, she nearly said, though it sounded wrong even in her head. Though Edgar’s advice had lingered long after their initial conversation, it had been far from her mind that morning when she’d practically dropped everything to scour the Ministry for Ted. But she couldn’t dwell on the subject of Edgar for too long, not when her gaze was subconsciously giving him a once-over out of diagnostic habit. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she frowned at Ted. “But something’s wrong with you, isn’t it?”

Nearly, Ted blurted out that he still shouldn’t have done it. Not when Edgar had to know how uncomfortable the topic made Ted in the first place. But it lacked any sort of sense, the frustration behind the sentiment too sudden and too intense give that he had only really been, at most, mildly exasperated at the time. Thankfully, he got distracted by Andromeda’s equally intense look and if it weren’t for the obvious once-over, he might have tried to dodge the question, brushing it off as one of those overslept, running-late type things (and obviously that explained the frustration too). But it was clear she had figured something out and Ted really was a horrible liar.  He would have sighed heavily if he hadn’t already learned that’s when things hurt the most.

“Oh. No. Well, it’s stupid, really. I failed to avoid some fight in a bar and kinda messed up a rib, I think.” While a hint of bitterness leaked into his tone, he still grinned and shrugged like it wasn’t that big a deal, absently pointing out the tender part of his side. Perhaps he should have been ashamed or embarrassed that he had all but run like a coward (and then still lost miserably), but the kind of disgust and utter vehemence his attacker had displayed was something he had seen and dealt with for years and years now. If he had learned anything from it then it was that you couldn’t argue against hate. Just as you couldn’t win a fight against those who didn’t play fair. The thought of Andromeda even potentially catching onto just how unfair it had been though pushed Ted to keep talking, gliding into a somewhat adjacent topic, as if that would distract her from everything that came before it. “The same thing happened to my brother, actually. Henry, I mean. Well, he didn’t get into a fight or anything, but he got injured playing Rugby.”

The lift came to another grimace-inducing stop, and Ted stepped out, doing the equivalent of holding the door open with his arm as he lowered his voice a bit and nodded down the hall. “We’re just around the corner.”  The excuse was already half-formed. A string of singing muggle toilets down in York providing the perfect alibi as he could just say she had a potential lead. It would earn them an office and a chance to chat a bit. Not nearly enough effort considering she came all this way. Meaning whatever she had to say must be important and, really, that should be enough to earn her more than a borrowed room and his poor attempt to avoid trouble with the boss. He could just try to explain things, he supposed, but that man wouldn’t understand or care that someone else might be dealing with something more important than being on time.  

Which was another very un-typical thought for Ted and he distracted himself from the guilt of it quickly, launching right back into his story as they walked down the hall. “But Rugby, yeah? He wound up on the wrong side of a tackle and crack. The doctors couldn’t do much, it just had to heal on its own, but it got him out of chores for like a month and a half. He probably would have tried to push it further, but mum caught him and his friends riding their bikes down a flight of stairs in town. Luckily, wizard,” he pointed to himself and hoped that, maybe, she’d take all this as a reason he would neglect to see someone, “So I heal faster than him.”

[andromedablackism-blog]

dust to dust ➤ oct. 1978

[abouttonks]

andromedablackism:

The moments following the meeting between the Blacks and the Rowles passed in a dizzying blur. Even with things having been hammered out somewhat cordially with Thorfinn himself, it had done nothing to alleviate Andromeda’s burning frustration with her mother intervening so thoroughly in her affairs. Arguments between mother and daughter had grown common long ago. But that argument - Druella with her arms folded in detached exasperation, Andromeda’s wrath channeled through sharp, icy words after they had disapparated back to the Black mansion - had ended differently from all the rest: “We are doing this because it’s what’s best, Andromeda. Because we love you.” If the statement itself hadn’t been enough to bring her anger to a screeching halt, the embrace that followed had left her shocked into stillness. Arms circled around her shoulders, delicate silver bracelets cool against the back of her neck, her nostrils filled with the scent of her mother’s musky perfume - somehow, that had been enough to quiet the restless, pacing beast.

The attention left her dazed for than anything else. She was nearly ashamed of how she drunk up the affection like she had been suffering in a drought all these years, only now getting her first sip of water she’d forgotten the taste of. The well wishes began to trickle in instantly as Druella sent word, owls tapping on the glass every now and again with a new sheaf of parchment delicately bound to their feet. It was foolish for Andromeda to be caught off-guard by an announcement being published in the papers so soon, really, considering how eager her mother had been to tell anyone who’d listen that her middle daughter had finally secured a proper match. If circumstances were different, the fact that her mother only chose to brag of her now would have made her bitter. 

All the same, the article in the paper caught her by surprise. Seeing her name in black print alongside her morning coffee was jarring. And it was then that the thought of Ted ran through her mind, a jolt of horrifying realization that he would have to find out this way. Suddenly, it seemed incredibly important to reach him (even if he probably couldn’t have cared that much, she reminded herself). The intense urge had propelled her through her morning routine quicker than usual, enough so to be out the door nearly an hour before her usual work shift would begin. Enough so to delude herself into thinking showing up at the highly-public Ministry, of all places, was a good idea. 

It all worked out better than she could have hoped. With her bag slung over her shoulder, Andromeda had just been clicking across the busy atrium when she caught a glimpse of familiarly tousled blonde hair towering over the rest. Edging past a woman chattering on to what appeared to be a goblin, she weaved her way across the polished dark wood to touch Ted’s arm. “Hi. Sorry - did i scare you? I didn’t mean to,” she greeted. “And this saves me the trouble of having to find your office.” It was then that it occurred to her just how public they were, how absolutely absurd of an idea it was to show up like this - perhaps even more assaulting than it was to show up on his doorstep, honestly. Her cheeks warmed. Perhaps he had already read it, and this was all even more ridiculous than it already seemed. “I - er - well…I’d wanted to talk to you about something quick before I went into work, too. But if now isn’t a good time…”

@abouttonks​

He was late. And while Ted was often tardy for one reason or another, it was hardly ever to work, and oversleeping was certainly never the cause behind it. Ted typically rose with the sun, a habit from his childhood that he never quite grew out of. But restless, pain-filled nights had left him more drained than the days of feeling suffocated in that tiny box flat he used to have, and for the third time in far too short a period Ted found himself rolling out of bed with a groan at the sound of Pepper’s need-filled whine. At least today, he noticed with a glance to the clock, he had a shot of getting to the office on time.

He rushed Pepper out the kitchen door, slapping a sour smelling solvent onto the tender part of his ribcage as he impatiently waited out his dog’s pacing. It was something that he had come to associate with his father, the wafty scent of lavender and peppermint hanging around him so long now that Ted had almost forgotten that it hadn’t always been like that. Or that this was what the magical concoction he often brewed for him turned into when it met skin. It worked, at least, something Ted could attest to after failing to avoid that man in the bar. But it was worrying, too, how often that must mean his father used it. How bad that old war injury of his must truly be. The increasingly anxious part of his brain wanted to do nothing more than use that as an excuse to encourage his parents to just sell the farm, retire, and travel the world in the way that they always spoke so wistfully about. But knowing that they would never actually go for it, Ted had concluded that he would just have to find more time to get out to the old farm to help out (which would be easier once he could force himself out of bed on time).

He called Pepper back inside and, realizing he didn’t even have time for breakfast, grabbed an apple off the counter, hoping that would be enough to get him through to lunch. He ate it as he waited for a lift, nearly choking when he turned at the sudden brush of his arm and saw who was there. He coughed and swallowed down that last bite and, surprised as he often was to see her, asked, “Andromeda?” This was the last place he would have ever expected to bump into her. On purpose, no less. A thought that caused concern to knot in his stomach and his brow to furrow as he attempted to focus on what she was saying over the dull roar of people chatting on their way to work. And then why he ultimately offered a dismissive, “It’s fine,” when he probably shouldn’t have as unplanned sick days and that string of late arrivals had his boss more displeased with him than usual.

“Here, um …” He gestured vaguely in the direction of a newly arrived lift, figuring if it was truly quick she could take a ride down and then back up. Or, if they needed further privacy, he could just borrow one of the offices with the excuse that she was there to file a report or something. “Is everything okay?” It dawned on him, maybe, what this could be about when he stepped in behind her and he offered an apologetic look as he pressed the button to Level Three. “If it’s about Edgar I already told him to let it go.” Well, he’d tried and while Ted hoped the message had gotten across, his friend was also like a horse with blinders on when he got an idea stuck in his head. He’d been avoiding him since the incident in the alley because of just that, knowing he would likely disagree with Ted’s decision to not file a report. Ted disagreed with it, honestly, but he also couldn’t take the risk. “If he does it again. He shouldn’t -” the elevator jolted into action and he forced the accompanying grimace (he’d never get used to that sudden, violent start) into a joking grin, “But if he does than I think you probably earned the right to jinx his mouth shut, yeah?”

[abouttonks]

eddieboners:

“Wait, you have just started to think that?” Edgar shook his head. “I’m sorry to say this but you’re blinded by love. Which can be a good thing, don’t get me wrong- but also a pain in the arse.” He sighed. “No, you can’t do that, but you could try to tell her that she deserves to be loved properly don’t you think?” His eyebrows shot up. “Are you for real? Why wouldn’t they want her to have a job? Being a healer is so kick ass. What the fuck is wrong with them?” He rolled his eyes, clearly knowing the answer to his own question. “Are you sure that’s the decision she’s making, or is it the one you think she’s made?”

“Not me. Andromeda.” And while he wasn’t making a judgment on whether that was a good or bad thing (most people were blind to a loved one’s faults, the concern came with the fact that her family’s dynamic appeared to be particularly unhealthy), it still seemed like an important distinction to make as, “Most of what I know about them is filtered through her.” Because that was the brunt of what Edgar wasn’t getting, Ted thought, just how dedicated Andromeda was to her family. That, and how new everything between them still was. Past history or not. So despite brushing against the topic - in the most diplomatic way possible and then just touching it in a moment of frustration - Ted really couldn’t see a situation where Edgar’s advice would be appropriate. Not anytime soon anyway. Besides, “That only works if she’s ready to see it.” And considering the way she persistently tried to balance two lives that her family would apparently never allow her to mesh, Ted didn’t think she was. “We talked about it, if that’s what you’re asking.” Probably not in the way Edgar so clearly wanted them to, but Ted didn’t really think that mattered.

[abouttonks]

imshacklebolted:

“You’re right yeah. I am glad they didn’t think of something like that or we would have a much more threatening problem on our hands. I guess we should be counting our blessings. –Great thanks. And really I’ll do anything I can to help if you need it, doesn’t matter if it’s not exactly in my job description.”

His words were met with a somber note, but the smile Ted ultimately offered was both genuine and appreciative. It truly was a breath of fresh air to come across someone that wanted to help without complaint, but it seemed wrong to take him up on it too. Not when he’d be busy trying to catch the actual bad guys. “Thanks, I’ll let you know.”

[abouttonks]

mister-moody:

“In one ear and out the other. Saturday morning cartoons?” he prompted as he sat forward, keeping an eye on everything Ted shifted. His eyes fell on the owl once again before he gave a little shrug and nodded to the other man. “Think you can draw me?”

Ted’s features scrunched together as he tried to think of the simplest way to explain it. “So they’re like  wizard photos, right? Moving pictures. Except,” he tapped the napkin, “they’re hand-drawn and longer to tell a story. And silly, usually, because they’re meant for kids.” He shrugged and motioned for him to pass a napkin,  “Yeah, if you want.” 

[abouttonks]

flowerswakefield:

——– “She’s rad. Really brave. Eddie told me she totally whacked a Death Eater when they hit him during the attack. That’s boss. And she also digs flower crowns! The only problem is that she’s Alana’s best friend.” Florence made an oops face. She frowned at his words. “Uhm- do you want to talk about it or are you chill? Because you know I’m always here if you need to. No judgement.”

Ted’s features went through a series of expressions - from impressed to amused to mild concern before he shook it off. “Well, as long as they hold off on any double dates for a while it shouldn’t be too catastrophic, right. But she sounds great.” Which just left the most important part, he supposed, “Did she seem interested when you spilled the beans?” Ted shrugged. “No, I know. And I’d let you know if I did. But,” if only for the sake of transparency, he supposed, as he didn’t like the idea of hiding things from Florence, “I’ve talked to Andromeda a few times. That’s all.” 

[abouttonks]

eddieboners:

Edgar shook his head. “Those purebloods are fuckin’ crazy mate, I’m telling you. Andromeda is nice and all but her family sounds like a nightmare.” He observed slightly taken as his friend completely incinerated the piece of paper in front of them. A little chuckle escaped his lips. “Woah there. That owl did nothing to you. I understand though. I told Andromeda this wasn’t as complicated as she was making it seem but she might have been right in hindsight.” He sighed. “Fine, I’ll drop it, but still you know what I think about it. You shouldn’t let her family intimidate you like that. They’re bullies and you’re letting them get away with it.”

“Yeah, I’ve started to think that too.” Which wasn’t a light admission for Ted by any means. He liked to give people the benefit of the doubt and he had done the same for Andromeda’s family. But what had started out as just cultural differences (albeit some fairly messed up ones) had turned into something far darker. Still, Ted frowned as Edgar finished because that wasn’t exactly fair. He had dealt with bullies and this was something else. They had made the stakes too high. “It’s not like I can go up to Mr. and Mrs. Black and beg them to please love their daughter properly. Besides, it’s not really my decision, is it? It’s her family and she’s pushed things as far as she’s comfortable with. I mean, they don’t even like that she has a job.”

[abouttonks]

flowerswakefield:

——– “Oh please! It would be awful for him to believe I’m just telling everyone he digs his trainee. Though they do make a rad couple.” Florence frowned. “Alright… that sounds like Edgar, yeah. But… are you sure you don’t need any help with whatever problem that is? You’re not in trouble are you?”

“Yeah? What’s she like then?” Ted asked curiously, privately hoping that the whole trainee thing wouldn’t bring about complications. Edgar had had enough of that with Alana. “No, no. Nothing like that. It’s not even really a problem.” Well … not in the way Edgar saw it anyway.

[abouttonks]

imshacklebolted:

“Yeah that would make sense. I know there have been some recent cases with plenty of children showing magical abilities within a close proximity. Good place to start, not that it’s likely we will find every one again that way. Hopefully the same abilities are shown again by the names that we lost –I mean magic doesn’t just go away right? Good, I think that could be beneficial.”

“Not that I’ve ever heard. But then again, I guess it’s lucky that they didn’t just steal the list -” He trailed off, the thought of what could have happened to all those children far too dark for Ted to even think. Instead, he quickly switched gears. “Anyway, I’ll put another vote in for subcommittee on your behalf.”

[abouttonks]

mister-moody:

“I’d say grown men don’t draw cartoons either but apparently they do.” He sat down in front of Ted, pretty sure that his company was unwanted but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Do you draw people too?”

“Why would you think that?” asked Ted lightly, moving a few things to make room, “it’s not like kids are animating all those Saturday morning cartoons.” He shrugged. “Sometimes. Not very well though.”

[andromedablackism-blog]

a house call ➤ sept. 1978

[abouttonks]

andromedablackism:

Somehow not quite ready to meet his gaze, she decidedly busied herself with stepping back into her shoes once he heaved himself back up, Though she wouldn’t be leaving angry at him, exactly - she distantly hoped he knew that - she was certainly unnerved. Once all those years ago, Ted had singlehandedly peeled back layers of her character she hadn’t known existed, seemingly already knowing what lied beneath them. It had taken, what? An hour, perhaps two? And he’d left her feeling far too vulnerable for her taste. That was the perk of her circle, she supposed; discourse rarely extended beyond pretty conversation only meant to graze the surface. Years of meticulous practice left her well-learned in navigating those waters, but this was uncharted territory.

A frivolous part of her felt relieved that he extended an invitation to come again, mentioned it casually as though it was a given despite it not being given at all considering she’d made him lose his temper only minutes ago. She forced a similarly small smile. “I’m glad, too.” The words were genuine. “And maybe next time I’ll have the courtesy to write first, warn you I’m coming.” The basket had been all but forgotten in the midst of their conversation, and she reached to take it from him gratefully. She hesitated - visibly unsure - before she touched his arm, her palm feather-light. “Be careful, alright?”

“Or you could just call.” It was one of those automatic suggestions that spilled out before he could really think about it and he rolled his eyes at his mistake. “Right. Nevermind. Though,” he cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, “Phones are great. You can talk like we are now without leaving the house. Or the discomfort of floo. Honestly, sometimes I think wizards want to be uncomfortable.” And that was all a long way to say, “Still. Writing’s good too, but you don’t have to,” but a part of him wanted to try and pull a smile out of her. That, and suddenly it seemed important to make clear, after everything she’d just told him, that they could disagree or argue without the strange emotional games her family seemed to play.

“I will,” he said, tone somber, even as he put far too much thought into whether he should return her touch or not. But even as a friendly gesture it seemed like it might breach a carefully plotted distance. As if just a touch could somehow prompt him to do something ridiculous like drop his (likely poor now, given everything) attempts to not influence her. So he avoided it and, just as serious, added, “You too. Take care of yourself.”