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you were the kind of soul anyone would be lucky to be with, and you don't even know it the great ones never do
adrian micheal
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DORA HAD SHOWN THEM the trick over and over again, at least thirty times. Astrid noticed the quiet sigh Andromeda would let out, and how Ted closed his eyes for a little too long each time. Of course, Astrid and Dora still found it hilarious, their laughter growing as the jokes were tossed around the breakfast table. The Tonks always ate breakfast together, it was like their family tradition. Astrid loved it, she imagined film makers would use it portray a loving family and writers would write about them with so much detail, it would be as if you were there- having breakfast with the Tonks.
Andromeda seemed to finally have enough of both girl's antics. "Nymphadora, I pride myself in giving you a beautiful nose. Please stop ruining it for me."
Dora crossed her arms, her nose turned back as her hair became cyan - a odd shade mixing sadness and annoyance, Astrid remembered it from the color chart Dora gave her. "Mum, it's Dora," she muttered. Dora hated her full name.
"My love, I'm sorry it just slips out sometimes." Andromeda smiled softly, apologizing. "Are you excited to go back to school, Astrid?" she had turned her head to her side, where Astrid sat.
Astrid looked up from her bowl of cereal, she was quite enjoying the galactic theme of the marshmallows. "Sure," she replied, shrugging.
"You look over the moon," Dora chimed in, sarcastically.
"I might pitch myself off the moon, now that you mention it," Astrid muttered, a small smile dancing on her lips.
Ted shook his head. "But, then you'll miss your favorite conductor, Astrid."
Astrid would do anything but miss the conductor of the Hogwarts Express. She swore she heard his obnoxious voice even before they entered the platform or even Kings Cross itself. Ted and Meda had said quick goodbyes, claiming that if they heard his voice any longer they would simply go mad. Dora happily accompanied Astrid, accustomed to the squeaky voice. They walked through the clutter of families trying their best to not bump into any of the first years. Astrid hated the station, she disliked the loud red color of the train and how the carriages weren't numbered correctly, but worst of all -
"Twelve minutes!"
Speak of the devil, Astrid thought. The conductor was a tall, skinny man. He had the same ugly red on his vest, and much to Astrid's horror, this year he had matched his shoes with the train as well. His voice reminded Astrid of the goblins from the bank. Every year he would count down the minutes, and once they got closer to eleven, he would begin counting down each second.
