A Warm Home
Andromeda talked about the child in the belly again. He put down the tea cup and put his palm on his belly. "This child is not honest inside."
Regulus looked over.
Andromeda's tone was a little more proud and a little interesting. "Sometimes when I look down, the color of my belly is not right. Sometimes it's more pink, sometimes it's more blue. Sometimes I can feel the hair inside changing color through the skin, from black to red, and back again."
She looked up at Regulus with a smile on her lips, "Do you think it's weird? You won't be a little chameleon when you are born, right?"
Regulus looked at him stroking his belly, his eyes softened.
Metamorphmagus, the born Human Transfiguration master.
There are only a handful of Metamorphmaguss recorded in the entire Europe Wizarding World. This ability cannot be acquired through learning, nor can it be copied with Potions or spells. It is purely brought out of the blood. You can change it if you want, it is innate.
No matter how hard other wizards practice Transfiguration, they still need a wand, a spell, and an idea. This child can change in the womb.
"This is a talent," Regulus said with admiration in his tone, "A very rare talent, Metamorphmagus, it can change in the belly, and it will be even more powerful when it comes out. Your daughter is very lucky."
Andromeda lowered his head again and gently drew circles on his belly with his fingers. The little thing in his belly probably sensed something.
The skin on the right side of her belly suddenly lit up, and through the skirt, you could see that it changed from normal skin color to a light pinkish color, and then slowly recovered.
"Then when she goes to school, teachers and classmates--" She suddenly stopped, thought of something, and laughed, "Nymphadora·Tonks, Metamorphmagus, a born Transfiguration teacher. This name and talent alone are probably enough to write a report about <The Daily Prophet>."
"<The Daily Prophet> probably won't report on a Metamorphmagus with the surname Tonks," Regulus shrugged. "But Black family's bloodline does have something to say, and Sirius's Transfiguration The talents of have already emerged, Human Transfiguration, Elemental Transfiguration, the professor said that his Morphing Intuition is natural, my Transfiguration is also okay, and now here comes Metamorphmagus who is not yet born."
"Listen to your tone," Andromeda took a sip of chamomile tea and looked over the rim of the cup. "Black family has good blood, mainly because you and Sirius are good."
Talent and blood cannot be hidden. Even if she now takes her husband's surname and is Mrs. Tonks, we cannot deny that the blood of Black family is flowing in this child.
In the final analysis, Nymphadora's talent is due to Black family.
Regulus leaned back and spread his hands. "I didn't say that."
Andromeda narrowed his eyes. "That's what you mean."
Regulus raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
You have a big belly, so what do you say?
It was quiet for a moment by the window, and the second hand of the wall clock continued to beat.
An old couple passed by under the streetlight outside the window. The old man held old lady's arm and walked slowly. When passing the window of the cafe, old lady glanced inside and saw Andromeda sitting by the window with a young man. He smiled and continued walking.
It was completely dark, the street lamps on the street illuminated Mouffetard Street brightly, and several customers pushed the door in one after another.
Regulus took Muffling Charm.
The brass bell on the door rang, and a old lady who lived upstairs came in. His gray hair was permed into small curls, he was wearing lipstick and wearing a dark purple wool scarf.
Andromeda stood up to say hello. He was fluent in French and had familiar greetings with the regulars.
Old lady asked in French: "How is the baby in your belly?"
Andromeda smiled and put his hand on his stomach and gestured, "The little guy kicked someone again."
Old lady had a kind face, ordered a cup of hot chocolate, sat on a stool next to the bar, and took out a magazine with Eiffel Tower on the cover from his bag.
Andromeda turned around and walked behind the bar and took out the cocoa powder jar from the cabinet.
Another young man who looked like a college student came, carrying a canvas bag and messy hair. He opened the door and shouted first, "Bonsoir, madame tonks!"
Then he took out a few coins from his pocket, lined them up on the bar, and ordered a cup of take-out coffee.
Andromeda was making hot chocolate and pouring him coffee. When he got change, he found an extra franc. He pointed at the extra coin on the counter and pushed it back.
Andromeda smiled and took it back, saying thank you in French.
A middle-aged man in a trench coat came in last, sat at the table against the wall, and took out a neatly folded copy of <Le Monde> from his pocket.
Without ordering, he opened the newspaper and turned to the third page. Andromeda brought a glass of double concentrate and put it in his hand.
The middle-aged man turned over a page of the newspaper without raising his head and said casually, "Merci, madame."
After a while, he raised his head and saw Andromeda's belly. His glasses slid down a little. "It's getting bigger and bigger. When is the due date?"
"August," Andromeda replied with a smile, "Mr. Jean, your coffee is getting cold."
The middle-aged man lowered his head and took a sip, nodded, and buried it back in the newspaper.
Regulus held the cup of coffee that would never go cold in his hand and drank it slowly.
This small cafe only has a few customers in one evening, old lady, college students, and middle-aged men reading newspapers.
There is no social pressure of Pureblood families, no undercurrent of Ministry of Magic, no shadow of Voldemort, only the steam of hot chocolate and the burnt aroma of brewed coffee.
Andromeda has a life here, with repeat customers, acquaintances, greetings, daily life, and settled down.
About half an hour later, the middle-aged man wearing glasses closed the newspaper, stood up, put the change next to the cup, nodded towards the bar, opened the door and went out.
Old lady took the last sip of hot chocolate, took out a banknote from his bag, pressed it under the cup, and walked out slowly.
Andromeda put away the cup, wiped the bar with a rag, and turned over the wooden sign at the door.
fermé, closed.
The street outside the door has quieted down, and the light from the street lamps has spread warm yellow on the stone pavement. The bakery has long been closed, and the pot of flowers on the second floor balcony of the apartment opposite has been moved in, and the curtains are half drawn.
The doorbell rang again, and Ted leaned halfway in from the outside, holding a bulging cloth bag in his hand.
"The groceries are done," he smiled at Andromeda, then looked at Regulus: "Come up, let's make Burgundy beef stew tonight."
Andromeda turned off the coffee machine, walked around from behind the bar, glanced at Regulus, and Regulus stood up.
Ted was waiting for her at the door. The bag was put on her left hand, and her right hand reached out to support her waist.
Andromeda patted him lightly on the arm to tell him not to be so exaggerated.
The two of them had a habitual quarrel, and Ted said, "The steps are slippery."
With a smile on his face, Andromeda looked back at Regulus, turned back, and whispered, "You say that every time."
The two of them were so disgusted that Regulus couldn't bear to look at them, so he twitched the corner of his mouth and followed behind.
There is a narrow door next to the cafe, and when you push it open, you will find the stairs to the apartment. The wooden stairs creak when you step on them, and they squeal with each step. Some are higher and some are lower.
The walls were covered with faded light yellow wallpaper. The pattern was a style that was popular decades ago. The corners were raised in several places and were reattached with transparent tape.
The paint on the stair railings was polished to a shiny surface, revealing the dark wood underneath.
The smell of stewed onions floated in the corridor, seeping out from behind a door upstairs.
Ted walked in front, the bag swaying in his hand, Andromeda followed behind, holding on to the stair railing with one hand and supporting his lower back with the other.
Regulus walked behind her, Baruk turned the spider's head from left to right on his shoulder, his amber eyes scanning the cracks on each step and the spider webs in the corners.
It stared at it for a long time, opening and closing its chelicerae slightly, probably trying to decide whether to say hello to the same kind, and then gave up.
On the third floor, Ted stopped in front of a white wooden door, took out the key from his trouser pocket, and the door lock popped open, making a dull metal collision sound.
He pushed the door open and stepped aside to let Andromeda advance.
The apartment is not big. The living room is connected to Kitchen. The wooden floor is covered with a faded Persian carpet. The pattern is a geometric pattern of deep red and dark blue.
A round dining table is placed in the middle, with four mismatched chairs, two made of wood, one made of rattan, and one made of wrought iron. The chair cushions are of different colors.
The sofa is made of dark brown fabric, with a folded wool blanket placed on the armrest.
The window is not wide, facing the street, and you can see the balcony of the opposite building and the street lights below.
There was an awkward blue-green circle around the edge of the flame in the fireplace. A pot of plant on the window sill was facing out the window. When the lights came on in the room, its leaves slowly turned back on their own.
On the bookshelf against the wall, Muggle's paperback novels are mixed with Magic's textbooks.
Stuffed next to the <Paris Tour Guide> is a copy of <Standard Spells·Advanced>, <France Cooking Encyclopedia> and <Magic>. Standing between them is an English version of <Pride and Prejudice>, and a thin "Practical Handbook of Household Charms". The spines of the books are well worn.
Kitchen There is a stirring spoon in the corner. I stand in the pot and rotate it slowly. One end of the spoon handle is suspended in the air and the other end is stuck in the pot. The pot is steaming and the smell is of tomatoes and basil.
There is a row of photos hanging on the wall, some that move and some that don't.
The moving picture is from a wedding. Andromeda is wearing a white wedding dress, and Ted is wearing a dark blue suit. The two people keep repeating the same hug in the photo, letting go and hugging each other again.
Next to it are a few pictures that won't move, including a group photo of Ted and a few friends. Everyone is laughing. The background is a bar.
The photo of the cafe on the opening day, the Le Coin Fleuri signboard has just been put up and the paint is still new.
A street scene of Paris, taken from the railing next to the Seine River. Notre-Dame Cathedral in the distance is still standing intact.
Wizards and Muggle things are just mixed together, and no one is in the way.
Regulus stood at the door and looked around, then walked in.
Baruk ejected from his shoulder, landed on the round table, ran around in a circle with eight legs, jumped from the rattan chair to the window sill, and came close to the plant that could spin on its own.
The spider tilted its head to one side, stretched out one front leg, and poked the edge of the flowerpot. The plant stopped for a moment, and then turned in the direction of Baruk.
Baruk shrank back, its front legs hanging in the air, then slowly stretched out and poked again.
Andromeda looked at the spider that was establishing diplomatic relations with the plant, shook his head, and walked over to Kitchen to look at the soup in the pot.
Ted Put the cloth bag on the stove and take out something from inside.
Carrots, onions, a piece of Cheese, a bag of bread, a small bag of some spices, a bag of beef cubes wrapped in brown paper, and a small bottle of red wine.
"Ted learned how to cook from his grandmother." Andromeda came over and sat on the sofa, took his feet out of his flat cloth shoes and stepped on the carpet, looking at Regulus with a teasing tone.
"UK people's foundation, France people's seasoning, mixed together, neither fish nor fowl."
"You said it was delicious last time." Ted's voice came from the stove.
"Last time was last time."
"Yesterday you also said it was delicious."
"Yesterday I put in just enough salt," Andromeda leaned on the armrest of the sofa and threatened calmly. "If you put in more salt today, I will go out to eat by myself."
Ted laughed, took the cutting board off the hook, and started cutting carrots.
His cutting method is not very neat, not the rhythm of a chef. The knife must be aligned before falling, and the thickness of the slices cut out is not uniform.
Regulus sat down on the rattan chair and put his arms on the edge of the table.
Watching Ted chopping vegetables, watching Andromeda rubbing her belly on the sofa, watching Baruk on the windowsill carefully touching the leaves of the potted plant with her front legs.
The corners of his mouth raised unconsciously.