Shelter From The Storm

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Ten:

By the time the semester had come to an end, Sirius Black had been cleared of all charges, had been compensated for the ahem - oversight - and had taken up temporary residence with Mr and Mrs Tate while he recovered, sorted his affairs, and adapted to the 1990's. Rose herself had begun a tentative correspondence with the man, and with Lupin a willing middle ground,, things were going well.

That didn't mean she was no less anxious to meet him. She'd spent the entire train ride to London fretting over it, in fact, and it irked her that she was so out of sorts.

"It will be alright," Nora assured.

Blaise said nothing, but his hand in Rose's was a comfort, and she basked in it. They'd been 'together' only for a fortnight or so, but their prior friendship guaranteed a comfort that served them well, and Rose had no reason to complain.

"And if it doesn't," Nora continued, "You can always come crash at mine. "Gabriel's making his way over, by the way."

Gabriel Tate, Alastair and Jean's son, was a 5th year Hufflepuff, a close friend of Cedric Diggory's, and a pseudo older brother to Rose herself. He was tall and kind, but he'd inherited his mother's blonde hair and blue eyes, her smile, and her dimples too.

In Rose's opinion - and most other girls' in Hogwarts - he wore them well.

Before anything could be said, Blaise detached himself from Rose, pointed out the graceful form of his mother, and shrugged off Rose and Nora's concern with a bitter smile. Instead, he hugged them both, kissed Rose on the cheek, and bade all three of them a pleasant holiday. And then he was gone, out of sight among the crowd.

"You're too young for a boyfriend," Gabriel admonished.

"Says you," Rose scoffed, "I'll have you know Jean gave her blessing."

"Of course she did. She doesn't know how teenaged boys think."

Nora laughed at them both, but she pointed out her approaching grandmother, and after brief goodbyes, a firm hug, and a wish for an enjoyable holiday, she'd left them too.

"Are you excited?" Gabriel queried.

"Nervous," Rose answered. "What if he doesn't like me?"

"Than he's not worth you're time. He'll love you, though."

Rose attempted a smile. "I hope so."

They waited for a further fifteen minutes before Alastair arrived. His face was flushed, breaths heavy, but he tugged them both into a mindless hug, smiling all the while. Gabriel complained good-naturedly at the gesture, Rose did not, but a moment later, he was shepherding them towards the floo.

"Sirius is very excited to meet you both," Alastair informed them.

"What in Merlin's name for?" Gabriel was bewildered. "I'm not his godchild."

"You'll have to ask him yourself, Gabe," Alastair answered, cryptic. "Sorry I'm late, by the way. I got held up at work."

When they reached an available fireplace, Rose secured the strap of her bag in one hand, deposited the floo powder in the crackling flames, and stepped into the emerald fire with a clear annunciation of, "Tate's Hearth."

In the swirling vortex of fireplaces and flickering flames, Rose closed her eyes, braced her weight on one foot, and staggered out of the fireplace with a skipping step. She'd been spit out into the familiar, comfortable living room of the Tates' London townhouse, merrily decorated for the season, and Rose was unsurprised to find that Jean already awaited them there.

Jean Tate was a small, slender woman with thick, blonde curls, and the kindest smile Rose had ever seen. She was warm and welcoming, and sometimes, Rose thought of her as the mother she'd never known.

Unsurprisingly, she was in the company of the haggard, malnourished form of Sirius Black, and in the ensuing stalemate, Jean took the opportunity to make introductions.

"Rose, this is your godfather, Sirius Black. sirius, meet Rose. She's mostly the one to thank for your freedom."

Sirius smiled, approached her tentatively, and settled a hand on one of her jacket-clad shoulders. "Hello, Rose. I'm glad to meet you - and thanks for taking a chance on me."

"It was mostly for selfish reasons," Rose averred.

"Regardless, I'm not at risk of becoming dementor food, so thank you all the same."

Behind them, Gabriel and Alastair had arrived, and Gabriel was currently undergoing the Jean treatment with begrudging acceptance. Rose would too, soon enough, but for the moment, the Tates had opted to leave them to their reunion, as it were.

"It wasn't a problem. Are you settling in alright?"

"I am," Sirius confirmed, "Alastair and Jean have been very hospitable."

"That's good," Rose acknowledged, nodding to herself. She was unsure of what else to say, however, and the small talk was awkward.

Blessedly, Gabriel intervened with a handshake, and a fluid segway into a discussion regarding quidditch.

Of course.

Boys will be boys, she supposed.

Rose left them to it, took a moment to greet both Alastair and Jean properly, and to divest herself of her winter wear as well. Her satchel was banished to her room by Jean, a mug of tea was placed in her hands by Alastair, and she settled on the couch, content to listen to Sirius and Gabriel as the latter occupied her godfather's attention.

"He's doing well, you know," Jean informed her, "He sees a mind healer three days a week, and he's been prescribed a nutritional regiment for the next six months." She paused. "He lives for you, Guinevere."

Rose sipped her tea, uncertain of how she should respond - if she should at all. The thought that anyone cared for her that much was baffling, never mind a man who was - essentially - a stranger.

"He doesn't even know me."

Jean's smile was sad. "He doesn't have to, Rose. He loves you just because you're you."

Jean didn't compare it to family, for which Rose was grateful. The only experience she'd had with that kind of relationship was the Dursleys, after all, and affection was the last thing she'd ever received from them. She'd therefore never known that kind of love, except, perhaps, with the Tates, who'd taken her in as their ward, if nothing else, and all of whom she loved and trusted. At the end of the day, though, Mr Tate was still paid by her, and that was a fact she'd never been able to forget - regardless of how hard she tried.

"Just give him a chance, Rose," Jean implored, "He's not well right now, but he will be, and I promise you, you'll never have someone more loyal behind you."

"I promise, Jean. I'll try."

Jean nodded her acknowledgement, sipped her tea, and dropped the subject with her reply, "That's all I ask, Rose." She leant towards the girl, an anticipatory smile on her face, "Now, tell me about Blaise."

Rose grinned. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything, of course. I feel like I've been waiting for ages."

Rose laughed, but she relented, and she relaxed. Suddenly, her holiday season didn't seem so terrifying, and Jean could work miracles. All was well - for now.