Stand Up

Stand Up

Andromache leaned against the temporary wall, her eyes wide and unfocused, listening to the throbbing sound of the crowd. They were shouting her name, the name of the band; a few shouted out other things, but they were lost in the howl of voices. She reached for her wand, in its sheath against her forearm; she would need it for a few of the pyrotechnics that she had designed, those that the stagehands couldn't do. This wasn't the first concert of its kind, a mix of Muggle and Wizard, but it was the first on the tour.

She heard the drums start their pounding. Carys was doing a marvelous job; Andromache could see the whole of the stage from her position, and could see the girl as she threw her all into the drums and the beat. None of the band members were very young; Carys was the youngest, at nearly twenty-seven, but suddenly, Andromache felt every bit her thirty-one years, watching Carys.

The drummer wore what could charitably be described as an outfit. It was a scrap of black fabric covering her chest, another scrap that could have been a skirt or very tiny shorts, and boots that almost met the fabric on her legs with four inch heels. Carys claimed they were comfortable, but Andromache didn't believe her. The drummer's hair was short, just a fringe that covered the eyes and touched the tops of her ears, and dyed several shades of blue, the color of the month, apparently. Sweat dripped down her exultant face, and she caught Andromache's eye, winking.

The bagpipes howled into existence next, and they drew Andromache like nothing else. She watched David as he let the emotion of the crowd take over. Her husband still thrilled her to her toes, even though they'd been married for nearly ten years and spent much of that time on the road. He was in casual Muggle attire; jeans, with trainers, and a black t-shirt that hid the fact that he was already sweating more than Carys. He was older than her by a few months, but his square face already held the lines of a man much older. His ragged blond hair was glowing in the lights. She could see his eyes; they were closed, because he said he felt the music better that way, but she knew them to be nearly colorless. The crowd was chanting, now, all of it her name, and she saw David's fingers fly over the chords of the song as Carys drummed away.

Stace picked up the rhythm on the double bass, and was quickly followed by Noah, on the electric bass. Stace was a brute of a man, nearly three heads taller than her, and she wasn't considered short, with chopped brown hair and a harsh face that was still, somehow, appealing. Noah was more of Carys' style, with feathered dyed black hair and eyeliner, and wearing all black.

The other instruments followed in quick succession: Jamie on the accordion, Pippa on the violin, Gideon on the trumpet, Roy and Brannon on the guitars. The crowd was on its feet, chanting, and she could feel the excitement rising in her blood. She wanted to be out there, in front of them, singing her heart out, feeling the magic that only a group of people that large could produce.

She waited for several heartbeats, letting her friends and band mates rile the crowd into a frenzy. This wasn't their first road show, after all, and there was a certain pace they took. She would come out at last, waving her arms, and it would be like a wave breaking over everyone. They would launch into the first song, and they would sing along with her. She could almost taste the words in her mouth.

But they weren't there yet.

She leaned back, hoping no one had seen her yet, and a thought, unbidden, popped into her head.

Claudia.

She had given up much to be on the road, or, rather, she and David had. The band had been their dream since Hogwarts, when they had found, in each other, a person who lived and felt music as they did. She'd been in love with David since she'd been fifteen, and he had never disappointed her in all those years. They'd married, never planning on the band being such a success, but dreaming, nonetheless, that they'd be played on the Wireless, that they'd make some modest success at it.

They'd never planned on getting pregnant just as their first album, released first in the Wizarding world, quickly followed by an edited Muggle version, hit the stores and sold out in record time. They'd been forced to delay a tour for a year while she gave birth and recovered, writing new music, and by then their fame had reached a fever pitch. She'd looked down on the face of her daughter, only a few months old, and made a choice. She and David had made it together, and they'd never looked back.

Her parents had been a bit surprised, but pleased to see them, and then they'd grown grim as she and David explained their reasoning. Her mother had called her selfish, and her father, white and silent, had been disapproving, but they'd taken Claudia in, agreeing to raise her.

Claudia would be what, six now? She was nearly embarrassed to realize that she didn't remember what her daughter looked like. Her parents sent photos to her, but they were lost in the maze of a bus that the band traveled on. She hadn't called the house in months, it seemed, and made a mental note to do so at the end of the week, when they had a break from the endless scheduled concerts.

She heard Mel, one of the backup singers, announce her, and the screams of the crowd nearly drowned out the band. She said a quick spell, and the noise of the crowd was gone just as suddenly, leaving only the music, at a reasonable pitch, in her ears. She said, "Are you ready, guys?"

The band suddenly changed keys, leading into the opening number. Brushing aside thoughts of her daughter, Andromache stepped out into the lights, standing in front of adoring crowds, and said, "Hello, London!"

~*~

"Mum, I don't know. Our schedule's a bit hectic now." Andromache tried to keep annoyance out of her voice, knowing that her mother was just as frustrated.

"You've missed the last two Christmas' with her. I'm beginning to think that if she didn't have the magazines with your photo on them, she wouldn't remember what you looked like. At least make an effort." Andromache's mother sat in a chair; Cate was older than she'd realized, with her once inky hair now sporting wide bands of gray, and the lines around her mouth and eyes were deeper.

Andromache nearly growled. "Mum, I am. We've got a concert on Christmas Eve and another on Boxing Day." She saw her father walk into the room, and added, "No rest for the wicked."

Her father glanced at her face. His mouth tightened and he nearly ran down the stairs to his basement workroom. Andromache sighed. "I'll talk to David and the others."

Cate shook her head. "Don't bother. I don't know why I even try, but it breaks my heart to see her watch for you and then you never come. I'll just tell her you're too busy."

"She's my daughter, Mum," Andromache snapped.

"Prove it, then," Cate snapped right back, her eyes flashing. "I don't have time for this. I've got to pick her up from Emily's."

"I told you I don't want her over there, Mum," Andromache snarled, suddenly tired of the arguments. "And call me back when she's there. I want to see her."

Cate stood suddenly. "Look at a picture, then. I'm not going to disappoint her again."

Andromache reeled back as if slapped. "What do you mean?"

Cate waved a hand. "Never mind. It's not like it matters. I'll get her from Emily, and that'll take about half an hour. When we call, you had better be there, you or David, or I will never forgive you."

"Mum," Andromache started, but the connection severed, and she was left staring into guttering, smoking flames. Rocking back on her heels, she let her thoughts chase each other around, and stood up to get David.

~*~

They were both in place, waiting fireside for her mother's call. David was slightly annoyed; he'd been in the middle of practicing a complicated fire juggling act that they'd added after a mistake in their last concert. She started to see her father's point; they had both been a bit selfish.

The flames roared green, and she leaned forward eagerly, hoping to see her daughter's face. A stranger stared back.

Oh, sure, it could have been her daughter. The eyes were pure David, colorless and slightly almond-shaped. The hair was hers, a shade of red that only she possessed, that mix of black and red from her parents. The face was more her than David, a heart-shape with dimples and freckles, but the grin was all him. She felt her heart stutter to a stop, though. This girl wasn't six at all. She was probably closer to eight or nine.

"Hello?" came the quiet, excited voice from the other end of the Floo.

Andromache took a breath and leaned forward. "Hello, darling."

The girl frowned slightly, then her eyes focused. "Hi, Mummy, Daddy!"

David grinned at the enthusiasm. "Claudia."

The little girl shook her head. "Everyone calls me Max."

Andromache paused. "Why?"

Max shrugged. "I like it."

She didn't know this girl. She had met her once or twice a year over the past...Merlin, she didn't even know how long. She could see herself and David in her, but she didn't know her at all. She didn't even know if she could be called a mother anymore. They talked for several minutes about Max's day- and that had stunned her; she'd picked the name Claudia because it was beautiful, and this child thought that the little word 'Max' was better?- and then she had to leave because dinner was ready. David had waved a little; he hadn't said much.

Her mother's face appeared, looking slightly bitter and relieved, and Andromache hadn't known those two emotions could appear at the same time.

David said hello and quickly ducked out of the room, muttering about distractions.

Andromache couldn't meet her mother's eyes. "We'll be there for Christmas morning. I promise."

Cate nodded. "She likes to read. I'll owl you a list of books that she wants."

Andromache blushed. "Mum, could you..."

Cate sagged. "I'll buy it for you. It'll be under the tree."

Andromache glanced at the doorway. A stagehand was calling for her in the hall for the sound check. "I've got to go."

Cate nodded. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks, then."

Mind elsewhere, Andromache grunted. "Thanks, Mum." She stood up, and the flames vanished, taking her mother's face with them. "Bye," she muttered, making her way towards the stage.

~*~

Her band's name was Hazel Lies, and it- on posters, both moving and not, on signs, graffitied on the walls- was plastered everywhere on her walk through the small village of Hogsmeade. They were scheduled to play there after the break, on Valentine's Day, for the Hogwarts students would could afford to attend (they'd been given a discount) and the villagers (who hadn't). She walked towards the post office, the parcel heavy in her arms. David had brought her here, to the new music shop that had opened on the corner, and they'd signed autographs and posed for photos for several hours. She was supposed to be at the concert hall in an hour, and then, tomorrow, Christmas day, she and David were going to her parents, to see their daughter.

David was more excited about his gift than she was. He'd found an old violin of his- he played several instruments, besides the bagpipe- and had packaged it and sent it to her mother within an hour. He claimed that he would teach his daughter everything he knew- and she realized that they had never really talked about Claudia before her guilt at not remembering the girl's age had reared its ugly head.

She shook the guilt away, suddenly feeling that her gift was inadequate. But she sent it anyway, paying extra for it to arrive later today. Her mother would understand, she thought. She Apparated into the back of the concert hall, and began to get ready, chasing away thoughts of a redheaded girl with David's eyes and smile, and her own laugh.

~*~

She stood offstage, watching, as she so often did, her husband. She was waiting for her cue, and he knew it, and he was taking his solo a bit far, just to drive her mad. The crowd loved it.

She watched her husband, the delight in the music and the roar of the crowd, and, with an almost palpable snap, knew, without doubt, that they had made the right decision. Claudia- Max, she reminded herself- was happy with her parents, as she had been, and David was happier onstage than anywhere else. He could never leave the limelight. And her?

She couldn't be without David. She didn't feel the music as keenly, but the wave of magic that was a packed audience, and her voice rising over it all? That was her true joy.

They'd made the right decision, she thought, stepping out onto the stage to the roar of the crowd. She grinned, forgetting, as she always did, that she had a daughter with David's eyes, and her hair. She waved her arms over her head, and her voice, rough and nearly its own magic, rang out, clear as a bell.

"Hello, Dublin!"