Redemption Song

Adelaide Gibbons sighed as she handed her glass back for what seemed the hundredth time. She, her mother, Marise, and Zephyrine were lounging in the sitting room, and it seemed that her slave simply did not understand the exquisite pain of the insufferable August heat.

"No, no, far too sweet to be anything classified as edible. Good Lord, Bertha, can you honestly not fix a proper iced tea?"

Bertha murmured an apology.

"Oh, never mind all that," she snapped. "Send for Octavius to do it. However I ended up with the most useless lump to assist me, I'll never know. Honestly, you'll be the death of me someday."

Marise raised an eyebrow at her sister and said serenely, "Darling, I don't know where you get off with the idea that you may use my slave simply because your own is wretchedly inadequate."

A tinkling laugh came from Adelaide. "I ought to have known you wouldn't like to share, Marise. I have no doubts that, for your specific demands, Octavius is far more than satisfactory, shall we say."

Lady Gibbons gave her Adelaide a reproving look before saying, "That will do, dear. I hardly like to imagine what affect this topic will have on Zephyrine."

"Oh, please, Mother," Adelaide said in a bored voice. "Rina is fifteen years old. Hardly a child anymore. I'm quite sure she understands the mockery of this conversation - am I right, dear?"

Zephyrine nodded, but didn't even look up from the novel she was reading. It was titled Starlit Seas: The Chronicles of Notorious Pirates Samuel and Diana.

Lady Gibbons sighed as she turned her attention to her youngest daughter. "Love, it concerns me the amount of time you spend with your pretty nose in a book. I'm certain young Master Prewett would not approve of a wife who spends her days filling her head with silly ideas about pirates and politics."

This time it was Zephyrine's turn to sigh as she closed the volume and said, "Really, Mother, you're so old fashioned. Fabian couldn't care less what I read - in fact, he was the one who recommended this." She stopped for a moment, as though recalling an amusing memory. "Besides, Simone agrees with me. She thinks it's healthy to explore new ideas. You wouldn't believe how many things we've come across that could so improve our society. Even in just this book there's talk of something called habeas corpus - "

"That's quite enough, young lady."

Lady Gibbons was looking more livid than Zephyrine could ever recall seeing her. Adelaide appeared as though she'd just swallowed something disgusting, and Marise was scrutinizing her with an air of distaste. It was only then that she remembered Simone saying it probably wasn't wise to divulge all that went on in the library to their family. She really needed to start listening to her sister more.

"Where has your sister gone off to, anyways?" She had gotten off her chaise longue. "I don't recall seeing her at breakfast this morning, or at lunch, either."

"Anita has been rather sparse today, as well," Marise added.

No one noticed Bertha and Ilene exchange an uneasy glance in the corner of the room, although Ilene nearly jumped a mile when her name was called by her mistress.

"Lady Gibbons?" she said, respectfully stepping forward.

"Has Mistress Simone gone out for the day?"

Ilene hoped her face was a mask of perfect ignorance as she replied, "I don't rightly know, Madam. Er...I did happen to find this in the dining room as I cleaned after lunch - looked to be Mistress Simone's handwriting."

She put the piece of parchment in Lady Gibbons' waiting hand and then returned to the corner of the room, hardly daring to look at Bertha for fear she would give something away. Lady Gibbons began to read aloud.

Dear Mother,

By the time you find this letter, you will no doubt have realized that I have left your home. Yes, Mother, your home. I never felt familiar nor welcome enough to call it my own. It is true that I drank wine, danced at galas, welcomed guests as a hostess there, but I was not, and never will be, I think, in a place where I could view and embrace the family traditions and values in such a light that I was comfortable with. I don't expect you to understand right now, but I hope that perhaps someday you will accept my choice.

Please do not send search parties for me - they will prove futile. Where I am going you cannot find, and please help Zephyrine to understand that it is a place where she cannot follow. She has so much potential, Mother. Do not force her to throw it all away simply because she is female. Do not put her into the position you have put me, where leaving is the only option left for me.

I assure you that I am safe. Our neighbor, one Michael Lovegood, has ensured that. Yes, Mother, the halfblood Lovegood. If you are cross with my on that account, I am not entirely certain that I should tell you what my intentions are, although I am quite certain you have already guessed my destination. You are not a foolish woman, Mother - you have always been aware of my discomfort with the idea of slaveholding. Where Anita and I are going, there will be no distinction between us, no line of superiority. In my book, there never has been. For years the two of us have held onto this idea, this dream of equality and freedom. It was not until Michael came so spectacularly in Anita's life (yes, Mother, despite what you and father always claim, even filthy Mudbloods deserve a chance to love someone) that this dream could be realized. It took her a long time (me even more so) to gain his trust in such a way that he could confide in us as to where his allegiance lay. Eventually we persuaded him to take us with him.

We have gone to the rebellion, Mother. You've always said we must do our part for our family, and this is what I've deemed necessary. This is my chance to redeem the Gibbons in the eyes of the oppressed, for they are the future. Without being there with you, I already know how you are reacting, and I apologize. I have shamed our family name for only a little while. Soon I shall be the one who saved it. Remember that.

Your loving daughter,

Simone

P.S.

You may give my sincerest regrets to Master Carrows, although somehow I doubt he will care. There's hardly any reputation to ruin.

In the chaos that ensued, no one noticed someone slip quietly upstairs.

----------------------------

Andromeda Tonks was not having a good day. Raising a six year-old girl was supposed to be easy. Her own mother used to practically sing about how easy it had been to raise three daughters (well, perhaps not sing - Druella Black would hardly have degraded herself by doing something so primitive as singing). It was supposed to be all party dresses and sparkly trainer wands. Of course, her mother never had to deal with a daughter who spent her days running around with lime green hair and a pig snout.

Normally she could deal with it. In fact, most of the time Andromeda loved the time she got to spend with Dora on the couch, laughing as she manipulated her face into crude interpretations of various rebellion members.

Today, however...well, it would have been a lot easier if Dora hadn't decided to imitate Forrest Hamilton moments before Isobel had returned from their mission at the Malfoy Manor to inform everyone he had fallen behind. Or perhaps it would have been just as painful. Andromeda had always been able to identify with Forrest - not only had he been a wonderful friend and mentor, he was an outcast. A redeemed Slytherin. Just like her.

Needless to say, Andromeda was not in the mood to answer the door that evening. She would have been more than content to simply stay in the sitting room of the Den, as the headquarters of the rebellion was indeed called, sitting on the couch and sipping her coffee (into which she strongly suspected Ted had added several drops of firewhiskey) as the rain pounded on the roof. She had, however, volunteered to stand guard that evening, and it was her duty. Besides, it wasn't as though the knocking would just go away. As much as she might have wished.

"Who's there?" she demanded. "Declare yourself!"

"A friend in critical need of some home-style Tonks cooking. Open up, you madwoman!"

Andromeda rolled her eyes and undid the latch, allowing three soaked individuals to enter the Den. Quickly she latched the door behind them and threw her arms around the one who had spoken.

"Mike!" she cried, not exactly aware of the affect her volume would have on certain sleeping children. "What on earth were thinking, traveling in this weather? And forcing these lovely ladies to accompany you, no doubt."

She turned to his two companions, both young women younger than herself. The first one's face was shadowed by her hood, but Andromeda could make out deep blue eyes and a very pale complexion. The other looked to be slightly older, with straggly blonde hair and rather high-set eyebrows. She extended her hand.

"Anita Montgomery, lovely to meet you."

"My pleasure. I'm Andromeda. And you are?"

The paler one pulled her hood back to reveal a length of raven hair, frizzing somewhat from the water exposure. She smiled and replied, "Simone Gibbons. But you already knew that, didn't you Andy?"

Andromeda gasped. Before her stood not the scrappy fourteen year-old she had been forced to leave to fend for herself six years previously, but a mature and refined young woman she thought she would never find again. Her eyes grew wide as she thought furiously - I am not going to cry, I am not going to cry.

"Oh, I've always been such a basket case," she sighed as she gave in and pulled Simone into a tight embrace.

When finally she let go, Simone rolled her eyes and grinned. "I guess I'm not exactly who you were expecting."

"Lord, no...bloody hell, Simone, I'm just so proud that you finally got here. All those years of no news I'd thought they'd got to you."

"Not a chance. Hah, I even corrupted the future Lady Prewett before the blithering idiots got the chance."

"Zephyrine?"

Anita laughed. "They're going to have a time keeping her from coming after us. Simone did her work well. That girl's more stubborn than a mule and almost as opinionated as one of us."

"Splendid. Why don't we go down to the kitchen? Mike here looks like he could do with some nourishment."

Andromeda winked at Anita and Simone as Mike practically flew down the stairs.

Five minutes later the four of them were seated around the large kitchen table, onion soup and a roll apiece provided to the newcomers. Anita was recounting their voyage from the Gibbons Manor to the Den

"My compliments to the cook, Andy," Mike commented through a mouthful of bread. Anita smacked him playfully. "Don't talk while you're chewing."

Andromeda laughed. "You can let him know when he wakes up. Or when Dora smells the soup and wakes him up herself."

"A little late for that, Andy."

She looked and rolled her eyes. In the doorway stood a very fatigued Ted, a certain aquamarine-haired angel pulling him by the hand into the kitchen. As soon as she noticed the three other occupants in the room besides her parents, however, she let go and climbed onto Mike's lap.

"You're getting too big for this, Nym," he feigned in protest.

"Guess what, guess what, guess what! I figured out how to look like Mr. Snape!"

Andromeda didn't trust herself not to laugh at the spectacle that ensued, so she turned her attention to her husband. Anita had just finished introducing herself and Simone was sidling out of her chair, looking rather apprehensive. Andromeda couldn't blame her. It had been years, but still...Ted wasn't the sensitive type, but even the smallest brush with high society put him on edge.

It had always remained a bizarre mystery to Andromeda as to what arrogant berk had come up with the brilliant idea of presenting each Black heir with their own personal slave at the age of four. She'd been no exception to the tradition...but had her parents intended for Ted to impregnate her and for the two of them to run away? No, they probably hadn't anticipated that.

And now Simone was here to stay. Bloody brilliant.

"Surprised?"

"To see a Gibbons here? Yeah, I'd say so."

It was probably best if she intervened. Make things less awkward. Maybe.

"Er, Ted, you remember Simone?" Andromeda said, "She and Anita just arrived with Mike. To help." She emphasized the last word, hoping he'd get the message and back off. Ted rolled his eyes at her and then busied himself with her abandoned bowl of soup,

Andromeda was spared the task of breaking the awkward silence that had descended upon the kitchen when Dora hopped off Mike's lap and rushed to her mother, knocking over a chair in the process. She smiled up at her mother in a very endearing manner. Andromeda sighed and gave in, picking her up and saying, "Simone, Anita, this is my daughter Nymphadora."

"Mummy," she pouted, assuming a very serious look that appeared quite amusing on a six year-old, "I told you before - Nymphadora's too long. Why can't I have a normal name like Daddy?"

"Because Daddy's an impossible galoot, Nymphadora, that's why."

Ted glared at her from over his soup.

Nymphadora wrinkled her nose and announced, "Fine! Then I don't want a first name. My only name's my last name, 'cause at least it's short."

Andromeda groaned and put her down. Before she knew it, her daughter had marched up to Simone and said, "My name's not Nymphadora anymore, Miss Simone. It's Tonks."

Simone lifted her gaze to give Andromeda an appraising look. Mentally, she slapped herself. Of course she and Ted were married. How in hell had she forgotten to mention that?

Just then Ted barked from across the table, "Just Simone, Dora, you can drop the Miss."

"Ted, she's just - "

"What, Andromeda - she's just what? Recognizing the almighty pureblood superiority?"

"I'm raising my daughter to be polite, goddammit! And it would help if you would stop bringing your bloody prejudices into the picture."

"My prejudices? Last time I checked, it wasn't my prejudices that I have to thank for this." Ted pulled up his sleeve and thrust his left arm forward. There on his forearm was imprinted a coat of arms. Two greyhounds rampant on either side of a short sword - the Black crest.

Andromeda looked for a moment as though she might cry. Ted opened his mouth as though to say something more, but then closed it. "I'm going back to bed," he said shortly. "Come on, Dora."

She gave a frightened look at both of her parents before scurrying down the hallway and out of sight, her father right behind her.

For a moment Andromeda just stood there before collapsing into Ted's abandoned chair and sighed. Everyone stared at each other for a moment before the uncomfortable silence was broken. "He's not usually like this," said Andromeda to no one in particular. "It's been a long day for everyone and he's just...tired. We all are."

Anita put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she continued. "The fight's getting us nowhere. People are starting to become seriously concerned that it's entirely pointless...and as long as the Union holds the Call, they're entirely right."

"The Call?" Anita asked.

Mike shook his head. "I'm sorry, Anita - that's for another day. You'll learn soon enough, but for now I think it's best we all just go to bed." He glanced meaningfully towards Andromeda, and Simone said, "Yes, you're right. Come on, Andy."

As they ascended the stairs, however, a second booming knock came from the front door. Andromeda hastened to answer, but Mike stopped her and said, "Andy, you know better than that. Only answer the door if you're in any condition to fight, remember?"

Andromeda looked indignant, but stepped aside nonetheless as he opened the door a crack and cried, "Who goes there?"

"Er...Ilene Peverell."

Simone and Anita both gasped and, before anyone could stop her, the latter had swung open the door and was embracing yet another drenched girl. "Ilene, have you gone mad?" Anita demanded as she released her. "You could have been killed if you were caught! Oh, Simone, I told you not to leave that dratted letter."

"How could anyone catch a slave when she was with her mistress?"

Andromeda honestly couldn't believe what she was seeing. How had none of them noticed that there was another person standing directly behind Ilene? A certain person who, when comfortably inside and relieved of her cloak, appeared to be nearly the spitting image of Simone?

"You did not." Simone looked furious.

Zephyrine guiltily smiled. "Really, Simone, you couldn't actually expect me not to follow you, right?" When her sister didn't back down she bit her lip and said, "Well I'm here to stay, whether you care or not. I couldn't let you leave me there with all those prudes while you had all the fun."

Andromeda furrowed her brow and cut in, "Er...Zephyrine - "

"Andy! Good Lord, this is where you've been all this time? Splendid!"

"Yes, thank you, but there's something I really think you ought to understand. The rebellion isn't exactly all fun and games, love. There's responsibility involved. And there's a good chance you could get hurt." She swallowed hard, trying not to think of Forrest. "More likely than not."

Zephyrine shrugged and said, "You know, that's exactly the speech Ilene gave me when she was trying to get me to stay." Ilene rolled her eyes. "But I convinced her to come with me in the end. We figured that tip she'd picked up on Lord Rosier could be of some help to you all."

Michael looked up sharply. "Lord Rosier, did you say?"

A devilish grin worked itself onto Zephyrine's face as she replied, "Oh, yes - Lord Rosier. Quite the knowledgeable chap on state affairs and such. But, then again, you lot seem to be of the opinion we're not cut out for this sort of thing, so I suppose we'll be off."

But Andromeda had barred the door with her arm.

"You're not going anywhere until we've heard what you know."

--------------------------------

An hour later a very exhausted Andromeda Tonks entered her bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her. Through the darkness she could see Ted under the covers, although the suspicious lack of snores gave him away immediately.

She climbed into bed alongside him and sat there for a moment. Earlier he had been in no mood to talk, but perhaps an hour to sit with his emotions had been enough to calm him. Either way, there was only one way to find out. Andromeda put her arms around her husband and pulled him into a tight embrace from behind. As a result of the summer heat, he wore only boxers, allowing her to feel the rough scars that were engraved in his back. She had always never forgotten how medieval her family could be. A moment later she heard him sigh.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I shouldn't have gone off like that...it's just been such a long day and I'm tired. Things are so much harder now."

"Don't you dare apologize, Andy."

"But - "

"No, you have to listen - this is important. You remember how things were when we first ran away. Life was exciting. I mean, really...in our different ways we'd both freed ourselves from that damn place and with Dora on the way, too. But we've been on this road for too long, and I don't know about you, but I don't see the end."

"Listen, that's exactly - "

"Can't you just let me finish?"

She sighed and said, "Fine, but afterwards there's something I need to tell you."

"Alright, but hear me out, I've been thinking about this for a while. I haven't warmed up to most purebloods, you and the Weasleys excluded - I haven't had much reason to. Before I came here, the only one who had ever thought of me as anything more than a piece of property was you... Purebloods only abused and stole what wasn't theirs. But I'm starting to realize that things only seem that way. A good portion of purebloods hate this whole damn society but can't do anything about it on their own.

"Hating those who want to help will get me nowhere, Andy. We need to find a way to let others know they're needed. And to let the defeated know they've not been forgotten."

Andromeda traced one of the deepest whip marks that lined his back with her finger, painfully remembering the day it had been delivered to him. At the age of fourteen she had been forced to watch the entire thing. And all for some spilt wine on her mother's dress. How could her parents have been so cruel?

"There is a way, Ted."