(Gilderoy Lockhart)
Andromeda was just about to open her mouth when I raised a hand, smiling politely.
"Wait a moment," I said, glancing past her.
Not far away, a cluster of my students were pretending, very poorly at that, not to stare in our direction.
Ah yes.
The Hogwarts rumour mill.
A force more dangerous than any Dark wizard.
"It seems like this is something serious," I continued smoothly, "and Hogwarts is not exactly known for discretion. Perhaps we should change locations before we begin this conversation. My office would be more… adequate."
Andromeda raised an elegant brow, clearly evaluating me.
Then she inclined her head.
"Very well."
Behind her, Tonks looked… was that relief?
Curious.
Very curious indeed.
I turned and led the way toward the castle, my pace measured, my posture impeccable, though internally, I had questions, multiple ones, and none of them reassuring.
…
My office was located on the second floor, a space I had carefully curated to reflect both my achievements and, more importantly, my image.
As the door opened, I stepped aside to allow them in.
The reaction was immediate.
Andromeda stopped just inside the doorway, her gaze lifting.
Tonks froze behind her.
They clearly saw the basilisk.
The enormous skeleton hung from the ceiling, its long, curved fangs gleaming faintly in the light. Its empty eye sockets seemed to follow movement, lending the room a certain… dramatic flair.
Beneath it, mounted proudly on the wall, was a large portrait of myself, standing atop the creature's skull, sword raised high, robes artfully torn, expression heroic.
Naturally.
"So it was true," Andromeda said.
She stepped further inside, her eyes still tracing the length of the skeleton.
Then she turned to me.
"I must admit," she added, "I was somewhat skeptical about the story of you slaying a basilisk. The Prophet is not exactly the most trustworthy source of information."
I nodded, entirely unoffended.
"Understandable," I said. "I, too, would be skeptical if I had not done it myself."
Tonks made a small noise behind her that sounded suspiciously like a choked laugh.
I chose to ignore it.
I moved behind my desk and, with a flick of my fingers, conjured two comfortable chairs in front of it.
"Please," I said, gesturing.
They sat.
I conjured a tea set next, fine porcelain, naturally, and poured each of us a cup. Then I added a plate of snacks as an afterthought.
Presentation matters.
Once we were all settled, I lifted my teacup, composed and attentive.
"Well then," I said lightly, "what is it you wished to see me for? It feels like something… important."
Andromeda did not reach for her tea. Instead, she looked directly at me, gaze steady and unblinking.
Then she said, "I just wanted to meet the man who got my daughter pregnant."
I spilled the tea all over the desk.
Then, ignoring the mess, I set the cup down with what dignity I could salvage and looked at her.
"I'm sorry," I said. "What?"
Behind her, Tonks, who had, at some point, acquired a scone and was nibbling at it like a particularly nervous squirrel, froze.
Her eyes widened.
Then widened further.
I was fairly certain that was not anatomically possible.
As if she couldn't believe her mother had just dropped the bomb with no preamble.
So.
This was definitely not a misunderstanding or a joke.
This was real.
I slowly leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers.
Composure, Gilderoy.
You have faced worse.
Probably.
Possibly.
"I see," I said carefully.
I did not, in fact, see.
Not at all.
My gaze shifted to Tonks.
"Nymphadora," I said, voice calm, measured. "Would you care to elaborate?"
She made a strangled sound.
Very articulate.
"Er… well… see… the thing is…"
"She is pregnant," Andromeda said flatly.
"Yes, I gathered that much," I replied. "I was more interested in the… specifics."
Tonks stared at me like a deer caught in very bright headlights.
"I-uh-well-there was… Christmas…"
Christmas.
Ah.
My mind, excellent as it is, required only a moment to provide the corresponding memory.
Vague and blurred. Accompanied by an unfortunate amount of alcohol.
Oh.
Oh no.
I straightened slightly.
"Well," I said, clearing my throat, "while I do not deny my… considerable charm, I do find it somewhat surprising that matters have progressed to such an extent."
Tonks made a noise that might have been a laugh or a sob.
Difficult to tell.
Andromeda, however, remained perfectly composed.
"You will, of course, take responsibility."
There it was, the demand.
Expected.
And to be fair, completely understandable.
My fingers tapped lightly against the desk as I considered the situation.
A child.
Mine.
Potentially.
Statistically.
Likely.
This was… Unexpected.
Complicated.
Scandalous.
And yet…
Not entirely unwelcome.
I rose from my chair slowly, smoothing down my robes.
"Well," I said, drawing myself up to my full height, "this is certainly not how I imagined my afternoon proceeding."
Tonks let out a weak, horrified laugh.
I ignored it.
Instead, I looked into her eyes.
They were nervous and absolutely terrified.
She immediately avoided my gaze.
Now that I thought about it, this explains the past week's behaviour.
I nodded once, decisively.
"Very well," I said.
Both women looked at me.
"This is… significant," I continued. "And it will, naturally, require a thoughtful and measured response."
Tonks looked like she might faint, and Andromeda looked like she was judging my soul.
I clasped my hands behind my back.
"First," I said, "we will establish the facts."
The fact is we were both drunk that night, but that doesn't mean we can evade responsibility.
The thought settled heavily in my mind, far more sobering than any potion.
And then, another memory surfaced.
The ritual, the one I'd done earlier that very same day.
Perenelle's voice echoed faintly in my head, calm and knowing, explaining the subtle effects of the magic. Increased vitality. Strengthened bonds. And, quite explicitly… enhanced fertility.
Well…
That explained everything rather neatly.
I stopped my train of thought and looked up at Andromeda, my expression smoothing into something formal and deliberate.
"Miss Tonks," I said, straightening, "I would like to ask your permission… to ask for your daughter's hand."
Andromeda's brow rose, elegant and surprised.
At her side, Tonks blinked in confusion.
"My hand?" she repeated, lifting it slightly and staring at it as if it might hold the answer. "What do you want my hand for?"
For a brief moment, silence hung in the room.
Then Andromeda spoke.
"Are you certain you wish to marry my daughter?" she asked, tone calm but pointed. "She is not exactly the most functional adult. If she can even be called an adult at all."
"Oi!" Tonks protested weakly, though without much conviction.
Then her eyes widened in realisation.
"Oh, wait, you meant my hand in marriage, wait what?" She stared at me, utterly blindsided. "You're asking me to marry you? Are you serious?"
I looked at her evenly.
"No," I said. "That would be your uncle."
Andromeda let out a soft, unexpected chuckle.
"A Sirius joke," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Really?"
I allowed myself a small smile. "It made you laugh, didn't it?"
She exhaled through her nose, still faintly amused, before turning her full attention to her daughter.
"Nymphadora, dear," she said, her voice firm once more, "what is your answer?"
Tonks was completely frozen,
Like a witch who had just realised she'd stepped into an Acromantula nest unwittingly.
Her eyes flicked from her mother to me, then back again.
"I… I don't know what to say," she admitted after a long moment, her voice quieter than I had ever heard it.
"Say yes," I said with absolutely no theatrics or flourish.
Only sincerity.
She looked into my eyes then, as if searching for something beneath the surface.
For doubt.
For mockery.
For an escape.
But there was none.
Her breath hitched slightly, and she drew in a slow, steadying breath.
"…Alright," she said.
I tilted my head. "Is that a yes?"
She shook her head, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips, one hand coming up to rub her face.
"This is mad," she muttered. "Completely mad…"
Then she looked back at me and nodded slowly.
"Yes," she said, more firmly this time. "Yes, I'll marry you."
For a moment, the room was very still.
Andromeda studied us both, her sharp gaze lingering, weighing, measuring.
Then, slowly, she inclined her head.
"Very well," she said. "I will hold you to that, Mr. Lockhart."
I placed a hand over my chest. "I would expect nothing less."
Behind the composed exchange, however, a strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in my chest.
Not panic.
Not quite pride.
Something… steadier.
More grounding.
Curious.
Tonks, meanwhile, looked like she had just agreed to jump off a cliff and was only now realising there was no broom between her legs.
"…Merlin," she whispered, staring at nothing in particular. "I'm getting married."
I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile.
"Yes," I said. "It would appear that you are. That we are…"
Merlin, what am I going to tell Aurora and Rosmerta?
…