It was the third night in a row that Oliver had not come home for dinner. It was the third night in a row that Oliver had not come home at all, and if it had been an isolated incident Katie would not have been bothered. Out with the team, impromptu bachelor spree, hauling George out of the doldrums and into the neon splendour that was Muggle London: all very plausible excuses for her husband's absence had this been the first time. But it wasn't, and there were no more viable excuses. Katie had run the gamut of emotions, from passively amused to viciously indignant and now, finally, incredibly tired and foolish. Especially since she had tried so hard to save their marriage.
Katie was a dedicated woman; she was no a quitter nor was she one to shirk her responsibilities. A cursed necklace in her Seventh Year hadn't stopped her from returning to finish off the Quidditch season or her NEWTS, so when it came to becoming a Healer—after nearly twelve months skiving off in France and Spain after the ever-elusive tan and tri-lingual skills—Katie attacked her studies with gusto. Every snippet of information was a precious gift from the gods, every practical involving charms (which she loved) or potions (which she secretly feared fucking up) was horribly important and not to be missed, not for birthdays or her boyfriend's national quidditch finals. It didn't stop after she became certified. Katie had something to prove at that point, needed to move up the ranks, and only twenty hour shifts and meals of coffee would do. In the first few years of marriage it didn't matter; Oliver travelled quite a bit and there was always someone else who wanted a ticket to games home or away. If they didn't get to see each other as much as they wished, well. . . they lived very comfortably and the sex was still good. When they were awake enough to have it. Nearing their tenth anniversary, Katie knew a drastic change had to be made and was smart enough to know where she had failed. She cut back her hours at St. Mungo's, kept her weekends free, and planned a two week vacation that she made sure they actually completed. They attended Christenings and League parties; Angelina and Alicia raved at how happy their best friend appeared. But only so many events and outings could be premeditated. Oliver wasn't very good at 'Alone Time.' In fact it seemed the more time Katie spent inside their home the more time her husband spent out of it.
Katie threw out her planner and went back to work.
Three nights. Katie was a pretty mean cook. She hadn't really tried for months now but for some reason these last three days Katie had prepared exquisite dinners for herself and Oliver on top of lovely place settings bracketed by golden taper candles and bunches of violets and honeysuckle. Three nights and he hadn't come home and Katie had washed dishes and gone to bed alone, waking sluggishly in the middle of the night to hear him turn the locks in the door downstairs. Katie wasn't necessarily in denial; she'd read those lurid novels that all women keep tucked under pillows and behind more respectable tomes and it had crossed her mind more than once that Oliver was having a bit on the side. At first thoroughly outraged at the thought, Katie now couldn't blame him. The idea of Someone Else had flittered across her mind too.
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"Your owl may as well have been a Howler Katie." The lanky redhead wiped his glasses with a monogrammed hankie and popped the wire rims back onto his long nose, the corners of his almost thin mouth curling upwards as he turned to face the blond. They sat on a cold bench on the edge of a little playground where Percy's two beautiful daughters Molly and Lucy were quietly swinging on multi-coloured swings and quietly sliding down gently rusted slides. Quiet. Yes. Percy's little family was definitely quiet.
"Well I'm sorry Mister Assistant Minister, but I have yet to master the art of conveying tone through the written word." Katie chuckled lightly and crossed her legs, scratching her knee through the fabric of her red plaid trousers—a birthday gift from Alicia who refused to take 'visually unnecessary' for an answer. She tugged at the cuffs of her black pea coat as a brisk November breeze rustled through the trees that surrounded one side of the park, barely moving Percy's curls while her long tresses not secured in a silver clip whipped across her nose. Katie sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm a Healer, not a bloody poet."
"So what does the great Healer Bell want from this poor government official?" Had Percy just made a funny? He wasn't laughing and neither was Katie. She had contacted him for a specific reason and Katie had a feeling that he knew exactly why she had. The prospect didn't fill her with joy and they watched his girls in silence while Katie gathered her thoughts. The man next to her was supposedly her husband's good friend. She would be lying to say she really knew Percy Weasley. Her memories of the boy in Hogwarts were muddled from prejudiced anecdotes via Fred and George, and awkward eye contact during the minutes before curfew when she and Oliver would try and catch a moment for themselves while the Head Boy was shuffling everyone off to bed. She was younger than them both and Katie hadn't always thought that Percy approved of Oliver choice of girlfriend for particularly that reason, but that didn't seem to matter as they happily attended Percy and Audrey's wedding or when they solemnly watched Audrey's burial three years ago. A good friend who Katie assumed would explain with whom her husband was cheating.
"Katie," his voice lowered, not wishing to attract the attention of little ears. "What makes you think Oliver is sleeping with someone else?"
"Because he's not sleeping with me," she replied, blue eyes watching the dried autumn leaves gather, unable to keep the bite from her words. It was embarrassing to admit, but Katie had sought out Percy for answers and was too tired of the entire situation to act out any shame or humiliation that may have been building in her chest. "We've never been the perfect couple Percy," she swallowed, "and we've never been each others top priority. . . that's never the intelligent way to begin a marriage I suppose." Merlin. After ten years could she honestly say why she and Oliver had gotten married in the first place? "But I always believed that Oliver respected me."
Another silence. Molly and Lucy had started some sort of hand slapping game, a French song accompanying the movements which led Katie to think they had learned it from their older cousins. As an only child Katie found the scene heart warming. She would have loved to have a sister. Seven year old Molly towered over five year old Lucy, obviously having inherited her father's height while her sister had everything else. Lucy's red ringlets framed her face, a contrast to the dark brown braid that hung down Molly's back. Katie blinked, unwilling to recognize the dark sting of tears forming behind her eyes.
"Why haven't you left him?"
"I. . ." I love him. Because I thought I loved him. Because people like us don't get divorced! "...I don't want to be alone."
Katie could see Percy nodding out of the corner of her eye. This was the real reason she had asked to meet, why she hadn't gone to Angelina or Alicia to help hunt out Oliver's mistress. Her friends would have crucified the Keeper and taken Katie on a week long bender to celebrate her new-found freedom. Percy, however, understood loneliness, would understand how a successful, bright, talented woman could stay in this sort of dissatisfying relationship. Suddenly there was a set a big chocolate eyes staring up at her and Katie quickly wiped the wetness from her cheeks, shooting Lucy an enthusiastic smile. "Have you beautiful ladies been having a fun time?" Molly was standing dutifully by her father's side, one hand holding the knot of her scarf, the other trying not to pull on a string hanging from her thick green jumper.
"Wanna come home fo' dinner?"
Katie coughed her surprise while little Lucy continued to chew the nail on her left hand.
"I don't think—"
"W-we'll be eating at The Burrow." Percy and Katie's words tumbled over each other.
"Then I wouldn't want to be—"
"You wouldn't be an imposition. Mother always makes enough to feed a small army."
Katie raised an eyebrow, looking at her old school mate for a sign that this wasn't just a sham invitation to humour the delicate sensibilities of children inviting strange women to eat, that she would really be welcomed at his parent's table. The Healer gently put a hand out to the girl in the purple robes.
"Would you hold my hand Lucy? I wouldn't want to get lost."
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Sitting in the warm Burrow kitchen, six month old Hugo sleeping soundly over her shoulder while Mrs. Weasley and Hermione animatedly washed the dishes, the Weasley men entertaining the girls in the living room, Katie remembered her earlier feelings of trepidation and shook her head. Molly Sr. had seemed relieved to have another mouth to feed, though she repeatedly apologized for George's disappearance. They had been in the same year after all. Healer Bell knew that one Ms. Johnson was probably occupying George's time at the moment and, whatever her own feelings on the subject may be, understood it was their secret to tell. She merely hugged the matron and shrugged, jumping on Hermione's suggestion to get the children cleaned up for dinner before any awkward questions of that vein could be asked. Other awkward questions came with the roast and mashed potatoes though the presence of three bright-eyed little girls and Katie's quick, believable answers stopped the worst of Mother Weasley's curiosity. There was nothing mean-spirited or biting about it; on the contrary, it was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask about the location of Katie's husband, how he was, did they have any plans for Yule. The awkwardness only came from Katie wondering if Oliver would still be around for Christmas.
"I'm just happy he's having a nap!" Hermione sighed with a grin at her son's head, spelling a stack of plates up into the cupboard. Katie stroked the downy curls then continued rubbing tender circles into the chubby boy's back, ignoring the itch growing in her right foot and the knowing smiles Molly was shooting from the sink. Apparently guests were forbidden from washing up but childcare was a prerequisite. "Honestly, I'm surprised his vocal chords are still intact."
"I'm rather surprised myself," Molly dipped her head as she scrubbed. "I never knew Ron was around when he was a baby, never made a sound the poor thing—except when he was hungry," the plump matron added with a wink. "Our Hugo must get his appetite from your side Hermione dear, because I'm sure Ron keened like a banshee for the first two years."
"Well this little fellow seems timid enough," Katie stage whispered as the soft bundle made a gurgling noise, clenching tiny fists further into the shoulder of her white sweater; he smelled of soap and sugar, a distinctive baby mixture Katie had never been able to define.
"And you're so good with him Katie," Molly gushed, leaving the Healer with no illusions of where the conversation was now headed. She didn't know what to feel about the way Hermione had suddenly stiffened, keeping her gaze anywhere but on Katie though ineffectively shooting her mother-in-law a silencing glare. Grateful? Wasn't it nice that the fertile Weasley nee Granger was trying to dispel this upcoming line of questioning? Irritated? Why did women need children to be complete human beings? Why did mothers look at childless women with so much pity as if they had lost out on the big things of life?
These would be questions she had become used to and she had long ago come to terms with her inability to produce offspring. Yes. Technical. Cold. Had she become cold? Bitter? Was that why Oliver was abandoning her for some unknown woman? If that were the case Hugo would have been a shackle around her neck rather than a sweetly round pillow upon her chest.
"But there's loads of options nowadays dear. Adoption?" Apparently a mother of seven did not know when to quit. Katie gave both women a sincere smile, not one of regret or sadness or loss, and shook her head slightly, ridding the kitchen of the tension that Hermione had inadvertently created.
"Oliver and I enjoy our free time" It didn't sound as practiced as it was. But it wasn't at all true. Oliver had refused adoption and that had been the end of that.
She took her leave as the girlish squeals from the living room became tired cries and Ron was hauling Rose off to his old room to sleep away the next few hours of family chat. Molly was curled upon her grandfather's large lap, Arthur secretly passing her small handfuls of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans while her Da and Gran were otherwise occupied. Thankfully Katie had handed Hugo off as Lucy decided to throw herself around the Healer's legs just as she had slipped one arm into her coat. The blond swung the child up into her embrace, giving a loud kiss to one freckled cheek before saying her final goodbyes. She didn't argue as Percy insisted on seeing her out.
"I think Lucy's coming down with something," Katie said before Percy could apologize for something else. She was tired of the wrong people apologizing to her. Percy looked at her incredulously for a moment before quickly ushering her outside and shutting he door. "Oh don't get manic Percy!" she chuckled, waving away his wide-eyed worry. "She just feels overly warm for regular play. It may be a bug, it may be nothing!"
"But you do sense something off," Percy stated firmly, folding his arms, and for the first time Katie felt as if the taller man was towering over her smaller frame, not crowding but full of intense feeling for his child's well-being. "Well? What do you suggest Katie?" Katie smiled gently at his furrowed brow and placed a hand on his upper arm.
"Calm down Percy," she used her most serene professional voice. "Your daughter will be fine. Her breathing is not laboured and up until five seconds ago she was acting like a perfectly normal five year old sooo," Katie gave a light punch to his arm—a gesture seen more in her relationship with George—as Percy started to work himself up again. "Let her be a normal five year old." She waited until Percy took a breath and nodded, watched his shoulders relax, before chuckling and turning to leave.
"Katie." She stopped short, a hand tight around her wrist. He sighed. "If I knew . . .I'd tell you." It took her a minute but Katie swallowed and bit her lip, the warmth of The Burrow slipping away.
"I know."
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"McClaggen's dinner's tonight," Oliver didn't look up from his newspaper, feet resting comfortably on the dark brown ottoman. "He and Shelia are having the whole team over for cocktails and catering." It was a well known fact that Shelia McClaggen couldn't cook to save her life so any invite to dinner would invariably be a five star meal. Katie kept quill to paper, not moving from her bent position over her desk; a Saturday spent unaware and uncaring of Oliver's wants and needs. Alicia was globetrotting at the moment, currently lolling on the beaches in Fiji, and a reply letter was due. After all, Katie was the only one who knew Terence Higgs had gone along for the ride and some friendly teasing was in order for the supposed lifetime bachelorette.
"I'm sure you'll give Shelia and Cormac my regards." Katie couldn't give two shits about the McClaggen's and would no be spending another night of her life listening to the inane blather of plastic Quidditch wives the likes of Shelia. She heard the slow crinkle of newsprint.
"You're not going? Ka—We have to go."
"I have a house call to make."
"Is that what they're calling it now?"
Katie's nib scraped against the parchment sharply and she turned to face her husband with a frosty stare.
"He's one of our real friends Oliver and his daughters have chicken pox. He needs help—"
"Och, that's bollix Katie!" The paper was tossed down and Oliver stood up, a line marring his usually smooth forehead and an ugly sneer on his full mouth. Katie leaned back, one elbow resting on the desk, and met his gaze head on. "Percy Weasley has more bloody relatives than the rest of wizarding England so unless playing 'Nurse' is one of his favourite games you don't fucking have to go out tonight!"
"Well I definitely won't be going out with you."
Oliver's face was red, hard, and as he took a step towards her Kate felt the crowding, felt her personal space diminish. Oliver was a big man, all muscles and rough hands that had once worshipped her body. They had never been violent with one another and Katie didn't expect it now, but this shrinking sensation was not appreciated and neither was his hypocrisy. She had been out every night this week: no dinners had been left waiting and no dishes had been washed. But Oliver had known exactly where to find his wife and Katie would not have been ashamed to have had him drop by at any time. Even . . .well . . .no. Not ashamed at all.
"Are we really going to have this conversation now Oliver?" Katie tilted her head sharply, frost moving to sub-zero, channelling every other Healer who had looked down on her on her trip up the seniority ladder. "Don't you think it's about two months too late?" She didn't give him time to justify himself but couldn't stop the bitter flush that crossed her cheeks or filled her voice. "I'm sure there's someone else you'd love to take to dinner."
"Don't be a hag."
"Then don't be an ignorant ass."
And that was the end of that.
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There was calamine lotion and aloe everywhere. Percy's magically enlarged brownstone reeked of the herbal ointments and unguents that Katie had personally prepared for the two little girls and sworn would heal them more safely than any quick-fix potion could have, with none of the lingering stomach sickness or muscle soreness. Unfortunately Katie could not have guessed that Molly was allergic to the zinc base of one rub, causing the brunette to break out in awful rashes, or that Lucy would develop horrid headaches from the medicinal stench, leading Katie to prescribe a diluted dose of Draught of Dreamless Sleep to nip the possibility of copious vomiting in the bud. Dehydration was not a pretty thing and the Healer did not relish the thought of listening to such a tiny girl throw up all night.
Of course, this led to long, tea-filled conversations with Percy—she charming out stained sheets and wash cloths while he foisted Earl Grey with lemon on her in between working on the thousands of reports that happened to cross an Assistant Minister's desk in the run of a day. Percy though, for all of his poncey mannerisms, had not inherited his mother's serving skills, and it was a rare occasion when a cup and saucer reached Katie's hands without a tell-tale dribble of brown liquid. But tea was a staple; tea was safe between friends. Except on Thursday.
On Thursday the girls had been in a state: fitful naps, bad heads, itchy passed the point of tantrum, and utterly taking advantage of a baby-sit from their redheaded grandmother. Katie had shown up after five and had been forced to endure hours of home-brewed medical advice interspersed with sweet narratives on youthful Weasley life. Molly had hidden her surprise at Katie's presence badly but that didn't stop both women from acting more than civilly. Percy hadn't arrived until after midnight, missing his mother by less than an hour—tenacious as Mrs. Weasley was, the Healer was not giving up her post—and finding Katie asleep on his beige corduroy sofa. Tired from work and worry, he had awoken Katie a tad too sharply with a cuppa, the blond rearing up in a disoriented haze and spilling the contents over her bright orange t-shirt.
"Ow! Wh—"
"Oh shite Katie! I-I-I'm sorry! Merlin, are you alright?" Wet china was dropped unceremoniously onto the coffee table as Katie reached awkwardly for a hand to help her up. She kept blinking, fighting off the urge to slip back into slumber, her left hand tugging sluggishly at the hem of her shirt, her right hand covering a wide yawn.
"Percy, Percy!" she gave a sleepy chuckle and waved away his almost-steadying grasp. "Stop. You didn't maim me. It's just a stain so . . .give me a minute and I'll be fine."
Coming back from the loo to accept a fresh cup, it wasn't until she looked up into Percy's flaming red cheeks that Katie realized she had stripped off her tee to clean it before shutting the bathroom door.
Saturday evening she reclined on the same beige sofa, comfortable in jeans and a v-neck, using a tooth pick to root out the pink lotion that possibly dotted her hair too, while Percy sat nearby in wrinkled office-sheik, mumbling over new post-War regulations that had been in practice for years and other business while sneaking looks at the stairs for the emergence of bare little feet that had been over the steps twice already. Molly was extremely close to her father, so even covered in a zinc-free rub and exhausted she would make a point of knowing where Daddy was at all times. Katie could understand. She had done something similar with her father after her mother died.
"Oh please don't tell me there are still ministers pushing for another Tri-Wizard tournament?" Katie leaned her head back against the cushions and gave a short harsh snort of laughter. "So soon? And after everything that happened last time?" Percy gave her a weary look, the wire rims of his glasses perched at the very end of his nose giving her the feeling that a lecture on wizarding school relations and post-War peace efforts was coming. But Percy hadn't been cursed and Percy hadn't seen Cedric Diggory's dead body, and because Katie didn't wish to speak on either she reached a finger out and pushed the old fashioned spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Her mouth was curled into a teasing smirk. "You'll break them one of these days." His slow answering smile made Katie want to tuck a stray curl behind his ear; instead she cursed herself and continued her manicure ministrations.
This wasn't healthy. Katie had seen the signs in Alicia enough to recognize them in herself and Healer Bell knew this was unhealthy behaviour.
She hadn't set out in search of this. She had wanted an ear, a sounding board; she had wanted indisputable proof that Oliver was a lying, scheming, emotionally and physically distant cheating bastard. She hadn't imagined wanting to curl up in Percy Weasley's lap, calamine lotion and all. Katie wasn't one to stumble into deep fits of melancholy. She bucked up, got back on the broom, saw the silver lining—and when all that failed there was work. Seated beside him though, cup of tea steaming beside his paperwork, Katie couldn't help but to reflect upon the unfairness of life. "Katie, love. Isn't that shirt of yours uncomfortably hot?" "Why yea it is Percy, now that you mentioned it. What about those pants of yours? Wouldn't want them to get dirty now would you?" "You are absolutely right; I don't know what I was thinking even putting them on. Would you help me?". . .Oh Merlin.
I'm married. I'm a married woman.
He was talking and Katie needed to leave.
"Percy?" she sat up, placing the used toothpicks on her saucer. "Would you tell Oliver? If you knew?"