DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

~ Don't Ever Speak It ~

A mother's name for her child is a strange thing. It is a mystery to both the father and the child how the mother could have not only come up with such a thing but also how she could have ever possibly thought that it would be a good idea to call a human being by such a moniker.

"I mean... is that really what you want to call her?" Ted Tonks put forth hesitantly, upon learning what his wife - who had only hours before given birth - wanted to name their newborn baby.

"Yes," Andromeda answered, her flinty tone and the icy stare with which it was coupled both making her seem in that moment more like her scary older sister than it would be wise to point out. And as much as he did want to point it out, so that she could see exactly how unreasonable she was being, he thought better of it.

If the stubborn witch hadn't insisted on absolutely not following her ancestors' traditional child-naming strategy (in any way, shape, or form) ,then their newborn daughter might have ended up being called something elegant - like Altair, or something beautifully mysterious - like Alcyone, or perhaps something strong and yet a bit unorthodox - like Hydra.

But, no, Andromeda had put the veto on all names of stars, constellations, galaxies, planets, moons, obscure asteroids, other miscellaneous heavenly bodies, and mythological references in general.

She had also put the kibosh on giving the child a normal name. What was wrong with calling the girl something as simple as Anna or Susan, for heaven's sake? Ted wasn't overly fond of his own name, but at least it was short and easy to spell. Not to mention it was easy to pronounce. And he had certainly never been teased by the other children at school for it - either at the muggle primary school he had attended as a young child or among the magical denizens of Hogwarts.

"A-Alright, then...if... if you're sure that's what you really want," he stammered out. He regretted the decision before he was even finished speaking the words of his concession to his wife's demand.

And so it came to pass that their daughter was named Nymphadora. The most ridiculous, stupid, insipid, horrible mess of a name anyone could have possibly thought up! Why, they could have put all the letters of the alphabet into a bag, shaken it vigorously, and poured out a better and more pronounceable combination of letters than the thing that Andromeda had made up off the top of her head and insisted on calling their child... Really, Ted loved his wife, he did, (he wouldn't have married her otherwise), but sometimes he just wanted to slap her.

It was a good thing Andromeda had neither her sister's skill at Legilimency nor her propensity to use the Cruciatus Curse at the drop of a hat, or else Ted would likely have spent a great deal of time curled up on the floor in a ball, screaming bloody murder and writhing in pain.

Their daughter would grow up to share her father's opinion regarding her name, and shouting matches between her and her mother would pepper the child's school years with alarming regularity.

Ted refused to side with either female, choosing instead to simply call his daughter by a nickname whenever he needed to speak to her, and by her full name when speaking to her mother about her, thereby appeasing them both.

As much as Ted loved his wife and daughter, they both had the same terrible temper, and he had to admit that he was sometimes afraid that if Andromeda got just angry enough, she would essentially turn into her sister - cursing first and not even bothering to ask questions later.

And watching the two of them have a go at each other, especially once their daughter had a wand and had been learning some curses herself, was a particularly harrowing event for poor mild-mannered Ted. He could never bring himself to take sides in any argument they might have, too afraid of the wrath of whichever one he would inevitably end up offending.

A mother's name for her child is often the bane of said child's existence.

Nymphadora once asked her father why he had allowed her to be called such a horrible, terrible, awful, no-good name. To which he had stuttered in response, "I, uhh... I just... your mother can be very scary at times, you know..."

"Ugh, dad... that's so lame. You're lame," the child responded, upon learning how easily he had allowed himself to be defeated. She would have much rather had any of the choices her father had come up with for her name than the thing that her mother had decided to call her.

And so it came to pass that Ted was no longer a hero in the eyes of his daughter, but merely her dad - and her lame old dad, at that - who was not with it and hip, or whatever it was that the kids were saying nowadays.

A mother's name for her child is sometimes the instrument of a somewhat strange (and perhaps not entirely intentional or articulate) revenge.

When the time came that Nymphadora's own son was born, she and her husband agreed to name the boy after his maternal grandfather. After much discussion, it was decided that when they had a second child, it would be named after whichever of Remus's parents the child's gender matched. And she privately resolved that any further children born to them would be named in the traditional style of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, just to spite her mother - although she did not discuss this plan with Remus first. He would just have to deal with it when it came about. If there was one thing that Nymphadora had gotten from her childhood with her mother besides her god-awful name, it was that she knew just how much of a doormat an adoring husband could become in the face of his wife's unreasonable wrath.

~end~