After Ever After
Throwing his cleaning rag in the bucket of water beside him, Al finally stood up straight for the first time in hours. It felt good. Stretching his arms upward to relieve the tension in his muscles, he did a slow turn of the kitchen. It looked quite a bit better than it had when they arrived. It almost seemed to gleam in the white lights overhead (Rosemary would have been so pleased; she always took gleeful pleasure in turning a pristine kitchen into a mess). Perhaps if all went well this week, they could finally reopen Sunday.
When they opened their doors to let jazz spill out onto the street, the staff, regulars, and the kids alike would be overjoyed. Staff would smile and laugh, glad that they would not to search for a new job, regulars would rush in to buy Frog Prince's ever-popular beignets to share with their mates and family and the kids would chases each other around the restaurant, pleased to be home again.
Most of all, though, everyone would know the Lawson family was on the mend.
Strengthened by his vision for the future, Al smiled. When he turned to see how his daughter was doing, he felt his smile waver just ever so slightly. She was putting the last of the silverware into the bins they kept them in. They were really done and that meant a visit to Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's was in order. "Ready?" he asked.
Lynette nodded. "Do we have to pick up stuff for dinner at Grandma Ginny and Grandpa Harry's?" she asked.
Al shook his head. "They have it covered," he said. Eying her carefully, he inquired, "Would you like to meet your other grandparents with me?"
"Sure," she said, shrugging.
He was sure she had more of an opinion on it than her flippant shrug had shown, but Al didn't want to push it. He was just glad he wasn't going to have to go to Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's alone. "Okay, come here. Dad's going to apparate us there."
His daughter's nose curled in displeasure. "Do we have to? It made my stomach feel like it got flipped upside down when we used it to come to Frog Prince."
Al smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, love. It's the quickest way."
Sighing dramatically, the girl shoved her hands into the pouch of her sweatshirt and approached. Gently brushing long hair away from her shoulder, Al asked as he came to grip her shoulder, "Ready?"
She met his gaze, blue eyes determined."Yes."
Alvin drank in the sight of his firstborn. She was no bigger than his forearm, light as a teddy, had the face of an angel and a thick head of Weasley-red hair. Turning to Rosemary, he said, "She a right Weasley, isn't she? I bet she ends up with Mum's complexion too."
Rosemary stared at him. "She's not a Weasley. Our daughter is a Lawson and she will look like herself and no one else, Alvin!" she hissed.
His happiness crumbled. Setting his daughter back in her hospital bassinet, Alvin sat down beside his wife. Taking Rosemary's hand in his, he kissed it. Then once more before he whispered, "I'm sorry."
Turning her hand in his grip, Rosemary eased it out of his hold to come and cup his cheek. "It's okay," she whispered. "I… I almost wish my mum was here right now." Her blue eyes grew with slight panic as she hurriedly assured, "Not that I would give us up for anything! It's just she would be able to give me advice, watch over our Lynette so I can rest when you're working the cart."
"You can rest now," Alvin said.
Leaning in for a kiss, Rosemary smiled. "Thank you, my love. But I think I want to watch our daughter with you a little longer."
Smiling back, Alvin threaded his fingers with his wife's. They then turned their gazes upon their daughter and let peaceful quiet reign.
Aunt Hermione's expression was one of astonishment. Al did his best to smile back at her. She reached out a shaking hand and touched his cheek. Her mouth dropped open when her cold fingers brushed his stubble-roughened cheek. Pulling her hand back, she balled it over her heart and smiled. "Albus?" she whispered.
Al winced. "Al," he said.
Eyes roving from him, to his daughter, to behind them she asked, "Is Rose…?"
Tightening his hold on Lynette, Al shook his head. "She died."
Aunt Hermione's hands flew to her face, eyes watering as she half-turned away from them. Before her grief could truly take her to her knees, Al pushed Lynette forward and said, "This is your granddaughter, Lynette. You have two more, Laurel and Julie, and a grandson, Jack."
With misty eyes, Aunt Hermione murmured, "Lynette looks like your mother."
Al's mouth upturned in a slight smile. "Yes, she does," he agreed.
Briefly, Aunt Hermione's eyes shined with something akin to mirth. Then, just as suddenly as it had taken her, it was replaced with raw, untamable sorrow. Sobbing, Aunt Hermione hunched forward, barely able to support herself on the door frame. Giving Lynette a squeeze, he let her go. Taking Aunt Hermione by the elbow, Al suggested, "Let's go take a seat in the living room, yeah?"
Nodding, the woman let Al lead her into the familiar room. Looking around, Al was surprised by how little it had changed since he was a teenager. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron had the same sofa and recliner, arranged in the same manner, the same photos on the walls, and the same books lined the same bookshelves placed against the back wall.
It made Al feel like he was sixteen again and that Rose would come bounding in at any moment to greet him. Clamping down the urge to cry, Al breathed in deeply through his nose and focused his attention on getting Aunt Hermione to the sofa. "Where's Uncle Ron?" Al asked as he lowered her to the sofa.
Dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, Aunt Hermione said, "I sent him out to pick up a few things for dinner."
Al hummed and gestured for his daughter to take a seat in the recliner. Lynette, though, ignored him in in favor of circling the room. As she walked, her expression slowly turned from one of unease to shock.
"Daddy…" she whispered.
Distractedly, Al asked, "Yes, Lynette?"
"Are… Are Grandma Ginny and Grandpa Ron related?"
Al froze. He had not thought any of his children would unravel the secret with such ease. With forced calm, he said, "They're brother and sister."
Turning to face him, Lynette wore an expression that could only be described as disbelief. "You and Mum are… Were cousins?"
"Yes," Al replied. What else could he say? The evidence was right there in front of his daughter's nose.
Lynette went and sat down. "That's kind of gross," she said after a moment.
Beside him, Aunt Hermione made an odd noise in the back of her throat. Al wasn't sure what it could mean (nor did he really care to). Right now, he had to try and change his daughter's opinion of his and Rose's relationship, not ask Aunt Hermione what that noise was for. "Maybe," Al allowed. "But, it's like they say, love doesn't know boundaries." Then, after waiting a few moments for the words to sink in, he asked, "Isn't that truly what matters? That your mother and I loved each other despite what we were?"
"I suppose," Lynette replied. His daughter frowned in contemplation. Crossing her legs, then uncrossing them, she leaned forward and asked, "Is that why we didn't have grandpas, grandmas, aunts, uncles and cousins until this week?"
Al sighed. "Yes," he answered. "When we… left home, we had decided to never come back." He smiled weakly at his daughter, then at his aunt. "Things have changed, of course. Having human mortality shoved in your face does that."
Aunt Hermione's said, "You're staying for dinner."
"Aunt Hermione–"
Glaring, she repeated, "You and your daughter are staying for dinner."
"Okay," Al agreed, cowed. "Let me just go give Mum a call. Her and the rest of the kids will be wondering where we got off to."
Having relaxed considerably, Aunt Hermione said, "Alright."
Standing up again, Al gave his daughter a long look. "I'll be just a room away, okay?"
Lynette rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dad. I'm not a baby. Go!"
Chuckling despite everything, Al left the room. Once in the kitchen, he stopped in front of the hearth and just stared at it for a moment. It had been so long since he made a firecall… Would it be just as he remembered? Or had things changed here as they did in the Muggle world?
From the other room, Aunt Hermione's voice drifted in. "Let me get a good look at you… Oh, you have Rose's eyes…"
"…It's – It's okay, Grandma Hermione. You don't have to cry…"
Al let his eyes slip closed for a moment. Tonight was going to be far more difficult than anything he'd faced yet. He couldn't wait for Uncle Ron to hear the news. God knew exactly who he was going to blame for Rose's death.
As Al had expected, dinner was an all around unpleasant affair. Aunt Hermione occasionally sniffled into her napkin and Uncle Ron glared. Al wanted to be mad at his Uncle for the mean look he wore, but he couldn't be. If you looked just a little deeper, a little longer, you could see the glare was nothing but a ruse. A cover for the clenched jaw biting back sobs and the trembling frown his lips were curved into.
Al, feeling he was at fault, tried not to do anything worth drawing notice from them. It was bad enough he had to be the harbinger of Rose's death, he didn't need to be the cause of further agitation. As for Lynette, she took small bites of her dinner while glancing between them as if they were all some sort of puzzle. Finally, after a long time, she asked, "In the pictures of you all, there were some of Mum with a boy. He had brown hair and looked a lot like Grandma Hermione, but tall like Grandpa Ron."
Aunt Hermione smiled. "That's your Uncle Hugo."
"Will we meet him soon? We've met Uncle James, Aunt Bridget, and Aunt Lily already."
"I suppose," Aunt Hermione answered as she shared a look with Uncle Ron. "We're going to have to tell him about… about your mother. He'll want to meet you when he hears." She looked Al's way. "And speak to you, I'm sure, Albus."
Al closed his eyes. "It's Al, and okay. Send him to Mum's when he wants to see me."
"Why don't you bring the rest of your kids here?" Uncle Ron suggested. "It'd be nice to spend some proper quality time with all of them."
"Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather have some time to, ah, mourn?" Al asked.
Uncle Ron's blue eyes turned glacial. "We're fine. We've had years to."
"Ron!" Aunt Hermione hissed. "Al is just trying to be considerate!"
Uncle Ron scoffed. "Considerate would have been not running off with our daughter."
Al dropped his fork to the table with a growl. Uncle Ron had gone a jab too far. His running away with Rose had been nothing but considerate. Would it have been better if he left her behind? Or had them stay so they could be broken apart and suffer? 'No, it would not have been!,' a voice deep inside snarled.
Standing up, he said, "Lynette, let's go."
"Where are you going?" Aunt Hermione cried.
His daughter's hand in his, Al was going to ignore them completely in favor of returning to his mother's for the night when, all of the sudden, the floor came rushing up to meet him. Incapable of so much as blinking, Al could only listen as his daughter began to scream.
"Daddy! Daddy!"
"Ron! What in Merlin's name were you thinking?"
"He was going to leave! He was going to take our granddaughter! We were going to lose them!"
"Daddy…" his little girl whimpered, small hands tugging at him, trying to flip him over.
Al wished he could move so he could hold her. Al wished he could move so he could hex his Uncle Ron. Al wished he could move so he really could leave him and this family once and for all.
He was so tired, but no one seemed to care. All they wanted to do was force him to talk about his life with Rosemary. Couldn't they see it just hurt to say her name? Couldn't they see he needed them to bite their tongues and help him with his children so he could properly rebuild himself into an Al that was both Alvin and Albus? An Al who could give them all the answers they wanted without him being stung by every one?
'No, they can't. They never understood what you needed,' a vicious, angry part of him hissed. 'The only one who did was–"
The furious voice was abruptly silenced when, from above, Aunt Hermione let out a frustrated groan before her hand settled beside his daughter's to help her. A moment later, he was looking up into their faces. His daughter wore an expression of anguish and his aunt one of grief.
"I'm going to cast the reversal. Please… Please don't leave, Albus," she begged. Just as promised then, Aunt Hermione performed the counter to the full body-bind curse he was under.
However, he did not heed her plea. Fingers wrapping around his daughter's hand, he apparated them away.
-v-v-v-
"Al!" his mother yelped at the sight of him materializing right in front of her.
Fury burning hot in his heart, he spat, "Me and the kids are leaving."
"What? What happened?" she asked, following after him and Lynette as they hurried into the living room.
Ignoring her completely, Al snapped, "Girls! Jack! Come here right now!"
The children, who had been seated around their grandfather, listening to some story from his time as an Auror, ran to his side. When they were all in arms reach, he lifted Jack to his shoulders and pressed Julie and Laurel close. Glaring at his confused-face parents, he snarled, "Goodbye for good!"
Their shocked expressions were the last sight he saw before the apparation distorted everything as it swallowed him and his children up to deliver them safely home again.
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Thank you very much for reading!