Red hair plastered to his head, orangey mustache drooping on his face like a bedraggled puffskein. (After her memory she really did need to persuade Reg to shave that thing.) But he was there, in one piece and even laughing as he received hugs from their jubilant children.
Mary finally had her turn to put her arms around him, hold him to herself and away from whatever he had endured that night. "Oh, Reg," she sighed, her eyes stinging with tears, "I was so worried about you."
Burying her face in the hollow of his neck and shoulder, she missed his slightly bemused expression at the intensity of her greeting. They just weren't an intense couple, not for years anyway.
"I'm fine, Mary," he assured her, placing his hand on the back of her head to hold her in place just a little longer. "We're all fine now."
They finally pulled away from each other, catching the warm approval in the expressions of their older children and her mother, a thin frown from Jack Watts and an embarrassed giggle from Marty.
"You must be famished," Patsy said, moving to her kitchen. "Sit down and I'll bring you something. No, no, Mary," she added with gentle remonstration. "I'll get it. You stay with your husband."
Mouthing her thanks to her mother, Mary led Reg to the sofa into which he sank with a groan of exhaustion. He stretched his long legs in front of him and Mary used her wand to slide a foot stool under them and to provide a pair of slippers.
She produced a towel to use on his head. Yes, she could have just dried him with her wand, but she wanted to touch him and for him to feel her comfort.
The kids grouped around them, creating an idyllic family portrait, somewhat marred by Jack's scowl as he settled into his recliner across from them.
"What took you so long?" he chided his son-in-law while scratching the bottom of his stockinged foot. "You've had your family worried sick."
"Oh, Jack," Patsy placated, returning to the group with a hearty sandwich and steaming coffee mug. "I'm sure Reg got here as soon as he could. Didn't you, Dear?"
"After I cashed in my winnings at the casino and said goodbye to the blonde cocktail waitress, yeah," Reg responded, sharing that look with Mary's father that always made her muscles tense, like her fudge hardening as it cooled.
Jack harrumphed in response as Reg, between bites, told of his ordeal.
"I was interrogated by security," he began, leaning back in the sofa with Mary clutching his hand. "They wanted to know where you would go. I told them your family was dead," he said to her, placing her head on his shoulder. "Luckily they're so disorganized now, they don't have much information on the people they brought in for trial."
Jack scowled again and Mary sighed. Despite Rion's having explained to his grandparents that Reg and Mary weren't responsible for their current predicament, she knew from experience that her father was convinced that there was a simple way it all could have been avoided—her having never married Reg.
"Magical maintenance," he'd sneered when learning of his new son-in-law's job. "What does that mean, he can't mop without a wand?"
Poor Reg. He'd applied for years for a position at Hogwarts, but Transfiguration was Professor McGonagall's subject. Other careers in the Ministry, or in finance, wizard business, anything in which his family was involved, were unavailable to him after the elopement.
"But didn't they use Veritaserum, Dad?" Rion asked, bringing Mary back to the present.
"Sure," her husband answered. "But you know there are always ways to thwart magic with smarter magic. Arthur Weasley sneaked a Confundus on me just before they took me in. I couldn't give truthful answers when I wasn't sure what was the truth. I think I even said that your Grandad died when he thought he was eating Escargot, and it was actually baby Blast-ended Skrewts."
Mary gave Reg a light punch on his arm, while their children howled with laughter and Jack shifted in his seat with a huff. Patsy patted his hand, turning up the corners of her mouth in a saintly smile.
"Then what happened?" asked Marty, his green eyes capturing the light from the large, barrel-shaded chandelier, and fixing on his father with fascination.
Reg looked at him and then each member of his beloved family in turn. "They let me go, I guess thinking I'd come to all of you straight away. I led them on a merry chase for hours, got into a duel with a young Death Eater, then transformed a dog into a horse and rode far enough away from them that it was safe to Disapparate."
"Wow, a horse!" the kids exclaimed collectively.
"What's so great about that? Don't all wizards know how to do that?" asked their skeptical grandfather.
The magical group on the other side of the room shared a knowing look of tolerance.
"It's very difficult," Regina explained, turning around to him and her grandmother. "Interspecies Transfiguration is never easy, but to transform a small animal into a larger one and have it be serviceable, that is rare. Very few wizards could accomplish such a feat."
"Yeah," Rion chimed in, voice loud with pride. "Dad's like gifted."
Mary smiled at him and turned her eyes to her father, who for the first time in eighteen years looked somewhat impressed with her husband.
She tucked her arm through Reg's and felt his warm response, as though silently saying "I missed you too."
On his other side, Marty bounced in the seat in his excitement. "Tell us about the duel, Dad!"
"Not much to tell," Reg said with his customary humility as he rose from the couch. "Just a young kid who went sailing through the air from a stunning spell. I think it's time for all Cattermoles to be in bed. Patsy, thanks for the food. We appreciate both of you for the refuge. Hopefully, it won't have to be for long. Come, Mother Cattermole."
Mary gave quick goodnight hugs to her parents and children, then scurried up the steps after Reg, enjoying the sense of déjà vu in following him.
He flopped with deep fatigue onto the Hufflepuff-colored comforter and held out his arms for her.
Mary lay down with him, resting her head on his chest, feeling that she was back where she belonged. "You had quite a night."
"And you had quite a morning," he responded, lifting her chin so she looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
She dropped her head again. "What happened to you?"
In his answering sigh, Mary detected self-disgust. "I became quite sick all of a sudden. I guess it was because I was so worried about you. Mafalda Hopkirk suggested I should go home straight away. Of course I wouldn't do that with you about to go on trial, but I thought I could go to St. Mungo's for treatment and be back on time."
He squeezed her tightly. "I'll never let you down like that again."
Mary managed a little titter. "Well, I don't plan to be going before Delores Umbridge's inquisition again."
Reg groaned. "I heard there were Dementors. Was it terrible for you?"
She shrugged. "I've been through worse. Why don't you take a hot shower and I'll tell you about it when you come back."
"Good idea," he said, pecking her cheek and rising from the bed.
"I'll be waiting," she promised.
As he turned the door knob, Mary had another thought.
"Oh, Reg?"
"Hmm?"
She grinned, turquoise eyes glittering with mischief as she ran a finger over her upper lip. "Lose the trim."
