Author's Note

Just when you think you've put a story nicely to bed, along comes JK Rowling with another book, and a whole world of writing opportunities spills out before you. Before I say anything more, I must warn anybody reading that there are major, MAJOR Deathly Hallows spoilers in this fic. It is in effect a second epilogue, written from Andromeda's point of view, after the events of Deathly Hallows. It's bleak, I can tell you.

Anyway, this is definitively the last word from me on this A & T fic. I'll probably write other bits, but we shall see. Read, review, enjoy.

I am alone, now.

The house seems so empty without them. My husband, my daughter, and the man who was so briefly my son-in-law, all gone from me, their absence a constant ache in my side.

Then there are the worst moments of all. They surface when I find old, yellowing letters in cupboards or in the back of desk drawers, when I look at the photographs in the living room and on my dressing table.

They come to me when I'm doing the least likely things, like standing at the sink, washing the dishes. I remember how Ted always started to wash the dishes by hand, even though he could use his wand. The other evening, I stood on the landing at the top of the stairs, looking for something. I stood there in the gloom until I realised that Dora would never again leave a pile of clothes at the top of the stairs for me to wash, dry and iron with the utmost care.

In the first war, we lost so many we held dear that I knew we could never come through without losing loved ones. There is not a day that goes by without my thinking of Gideon Prewett, lying stiff and cold on the hospital bed.

My Ted, my beloved Ted. You saw me for who I really was, underneath that veneer born of a pureblood family. You gave me joy and laughter, you protected me, you gave me a reason to live. It is the early years that I hold dearest, before we knew loss. Those evenings in our flat when Dora was a baby, when Gideon and Fabian would come over and we would sit around the table in the kitchen, drinking and talking, keeping our own demons at bay. Those sacred, precious days in your father's house in Bow, when I had just left everything I knew behind, when you showed me that you would never give up on me and would love me forever. Those brief, snatched moments at Hogwarts, when we were alone together, defiant in the face of my family.

I don't know how I will live without you, my Teddy-boy. But I must, for another Teddy needs me.

Nymphadora, my beloved daughter. You never liked your name, and yet it fitted you so perfectly. You were my little nymph, with your ever-changing hair and face. I held on so tightly to you because I thought that if I let go, I would never find you again.

Do you remember those wonderful days we had together when you were young, before we moved to the country? They were always the same, but you loved them. I would take you to the Zoo, let you see the animals, try to stop you from making your face like them (oh, how I wish I had let you!). We would see the tigers, the elephants, the sea lions. You would clap your hands, beg me to let you stay there.

We would go up Primrose Hill, you in your pushchair, then skipping beside me as you grew. We would sit on the grass and look out across London together, marvelling at the city laid out before us.

It was you I marvelled at most, Dora. I marvelled at your courage, your determination, and though he is still small, I see it every day in your son.

Remus, my son-in-law. The first time I met you, you were the only sober boy in a house full of drunken teenagers. When Dora told me of her feelings for you, I wondered if you remembered me. Sirius's older cousin, who stayed less than half an hour at his house-warming party before leaving. I felt so terribly old and out of place. I was twenty four, married with a daughter, but you spoke to me. You talked to me, at least for a while.

And then Dora fell in love with you, twenty years later. Did you ever wonder why I said nothing, made no protest? Even had I not known you, I knew my daughter, knew that any man she chose to love would be the right man.

I have never seen Dora as happy as I saw her on the day you were married, with one exception: the day your son was born. I only wish that you had lived to see him grow up.

As I sit in the twilight darkness of the living room, I hear him cry. I hear my grandson crying in his room; little Teddy. When I reach his cot, he has already fallen quiet again. His hair is bright pink, just like his mother's was. This is my reason for living. Little Teddy is a legacy of so much: a living symbol of tolerance and unity.

"Oh, little one," I say quietly. "My daughter's little Teddy. I wish… I wish… I wish for you to live in a world which never repeats the mistakes of mine. I wish for a world in which you will never know prejudice."

He stares up at me, with his father's eyes. I feel the tears rising up in mine. "Perhaps tomorrow we'll go to the zoo," I whisper. "Get on a train to London and go to the zoo. Then we can go up Primrose Hill together, and look out over London." A lump has formed in my throat. "Then one day, when you're older… I'll take you to the East End, show you where your grandfather Ted was born."

The baby gurgles, still staring up at me. Though I have lost one Ted, one reason to live, I have been given another.

As I tiptoe from his room, I can see the sun setting through the landing window. The pain will never go away, but I must remain. I must continue living. As if in a dream, I can see myself on Platform 9¾ that September day when I met Ted for the first time. So much of life is chance. So much is fate. I have a chance now, with Teddy; I must embrace fate. I am Andromeda Tonks, and I shall endure.