A/N: Happy Easter my little beauties! Does anyone else have the pleasure of watching adorable kiddos scavenge for eggs? I spent my morning hiding about ten thousand candy filled bastards throughout the house and around the backyard and have a feeling I'll be stumbling across undiscovered eggs for many months to come. That said, I am looking forward to taking a bajillion pics of my nieces :D

I'm having SUCH a good day I decided to send a little love my awesome readers' way with an update! I still appreciate all the love you guys have showed me so far, and while I'm a tad bit bummed I haven't received much feedback on this site I got a nice bump in reviews on AO3 after my last update. While I prefer AO3 from a posting standpoint I know many more people frequent this site so I'll continue updating on both.

As of now the content is identical but as the story progresses I'll have to edit chapters to adhere to FF's ratings guideline, making AO3 into the explicit version. If you'd like to follow Tempest on AO3 my username is LovelyVillain.

Enough chit chat, onto the good stuff!

May 4, 2006

Lyndhurst, Hampshire

Euphemia slowly blinked back to consciousness.

Her head felt like it was full of rocks. Her mouth full of sand, her eyelids stuffed with cotton.

"Wha…?" She groaned, bringing a hand to her head to block out the bright lamp light that glowed beside her head. There was darkness beyond the tall windows. Nightfall. She felt with abstract awareness she'd lost several hours of time.

She peered at her surroundings and saw the neutral decor of her guest parlor located at the back of the house. She lay sprawled across one of the chaise lounges.

"What the hell?" She asked into the empty room. She never came in here. She never napped in here. And she certainly never passed out in here.

She pulled herself into a sitting position and tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her throbbing temples.

"Fletch!" she called out. A soft pop of apparition sounded to her left and she spoke blindly in his direction. "Bring me my medicine. Hurry!"

"Er… yes, Mistress."

He lingered a moment too long, causing her to scowl into her hands. "Circe! My head feels like it's going to split open and pour out onto the floor! Go now you infernal creature!"

She sighed in relief at the sound of his departure, counting the seconds until his return. To her great frustration the sound of footsteps greeted her. She paid no mind to the details, such as the footfalls sounding much too heavy to belong to the small elf, or the fact the elves traveled via apparition from room to room, especially when tasked with fetching her potion as quickly as possible.

All she knew what that relief was just a few swallows away, the end to her suffering within arm's reach.

"Give it here!" she snapped, grasping blindly in his direction. A hand much too large to be that of an elf met hers, she tensed at the foreign touch but suddenly a glass vial was pressed into her palm and nothing else mattered. She snatched the vial and removed the cork with her teeth, spitting out the stopper and downing the contents in a few quick swallows.

She kept her eyes pinned shut, refusing to let reality soak in until the effects of the purple liquid kicked in. She counted backwards from ten, barely to five when she felt the telltale loosening of her muscles, the tension melting away like butter and a pleasant tingling sensation replacing the throbbing in her head. She swallowed reflexively, breathing a sigh of contentment. There was no greater sensation than the cessation of pain.

Her eyes slowly opened, her vision a bit blurred but focusing after a few blinks. Everything seemed brighter, sharper. She could see the man standing before her in crystal clarity. She blinked, staring at him for a few seconds before sitting back against the chaise and crossing her legs at the knee.

"I thought I was dreaming."

He stared at her in silence for a few beats before slowly walking to the couch facing opposite her. He sat down, his giant frame overtaking the delicate piece of furniture as he leaned back, arms stretched over the backrest.

"I'm surprised you can tell the difference between reality and dreams, with that shite swimming through your system."

She blinked slowly, his words filtering through her mind at half speed.

"I have a condition-"

"I'm sure you do."

She raised a manicured brow. "Is Rodolphus Lestrange passing judgement on me for my vices?"

He peered around the room with casual ease. "Hardly. I'm merely pointing out a side effect of prolonged Elysium use. In case your local potioneer didn't warn you."

She swallowed. "How did you-"

"The scent is quite distinctive. Dealers always think to alter the color but never the smell."

She shifted uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

"Don't worry, Euphemia," he smirked, "You hardly have to worry about me turning you into the Ministry."

She studied her glossy manicure in great detail. "In the potion's defense, it wasn't to blame for my confusion. You're supposed to be dead."

She heard him chuckle but didn't look up to see his amused expression.

"Am I? I'm sure that news excited you."

She bit the inside of her cheek.

"It's okay, Euphemia, I'm not here to hurt you."

Now she did glance up, staring at him with open fear in her eyes.

"Is that so? Guess I'll have to take your word for it."

His amusement faded. "I need your help."

"My help? Rod, look around you."

He blinked, taken off guard by her directive but glancing around the room nonetheless.

"Do you notice anything different?"

He furrowed his brow, unsure how to voice his earlier observation. However she seemed to read the hesitation in his eyes, leaning forward and gesturing to the room at large with her hands.

"I've sold off just about every antique that isn't fused to the foundation with a permanent sticking charm and I still can't afford half the debts the Ministry pinned my family with! I'm not in a position to help anyone with anything. I can barely help myself."

Her words ended on a bit of a slur, which only illustrated the truth of her statement. She was too high to feel proper embarrassment anyway.

"What about the gardens, the Granian I saw in your stable?"

She sighed, fishing around the cushions for something. "I pour what little money I have left into the landscaping and outdoor menagerie so we don't advertise how destitute we are to the world. Not that it matters, it's not like I entertain anymore. You're the first visitor we've had in ages. First one to come back from the dead, anyway." She laughed, shoving her hand under the cushion.

He watched her jerky movements without expression. "We?"

"Hm?" she asked, sliding off the seat onto the floor and feeling underneath the chaise.

"Who is we, Euphemia?"

She turned away to kneel down and look underneath.

"Oh, old habit. I meant me. Or I. However you say it. Or I say it. Oh where is the blasted thing?"

"What are you looking for?"

"My wand. I need a smoke."

He waved his wand- when did he even grab it? Had it been in his hand this whole time? She blinked tiredly, watching him silently summon her much more delicate looking wand, catching it in his free hand. She reached out to take it and groaned when he slid it into his cloak.

"I'll hold onto this until you feel better."

She scowled. "I feel just fine. Please give me my wand."

"I don't think so. But I can get you the cigarette."

He waved his wand once again, catching the thin gold case that flew into the room and flicking it open, pushing a cigarette free with practiced grace. She was too exhausted to fight him about her wand, though she suspected she'd be much more adamant about the topic had she been in full control of her faculties.

Instead she crawled to his side on her hands and knees, sashaying her hips as much as possible without tipping over. Once she reached his knees she sat up and leaned in with parted red lips, taking the cigarette between them and leaning her head back to pull it out of the case. She glanced up from half hooded eyes, batting her magically enhanced lashes as coquettishly as she could manage while stoned.

"Gotta light?" She murmured, smirking when he lit the tip with his wand. "Thanks."

She stayed on the floor, leaning against the chaise at her back. He looked supremely unaffected by her little show. She felt too light and tingly to be offended.

"You look good." She didn't deliver the compliment with any heat or flirtation, merely making an objective observation. "The last eight years have been good to you, all things considered. You don't look a day older."

He shifted slightly, seeming to ponder something internally before settling on a small smirk. "You don't look too bad yourself, Euphemia. All things considered." His eyes quickly landed on the empty vial on the coffee table and she scowled at the implication.

"I'm not an addict!"

"I didn't say you were."

"You were thinking it."

"I promise you, Euphemia, you have absolutely no idea what I'm thinking."

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well excuse me! You disappear out of thin air just to show up at my doorstep eight years later and I'm supposed to be offering you tea and biscuits?"

"That would be lovely, thank you. Though I'd prefer coffee to tea, if you have it."

She rolled her eyes, taking a long drag and tipping her head to blow smoke skyward.

"Well you obviously have more control over my fucking elf than I do, why don't you give him your order?" She glared petulantly at the ceiling until she heard him chuckle. "You really haven't changed, have you?"

He laughed again. The sound was so familiar yet so… different… her eyes immediately searched for the source. "Merlin, you sound just like him when you laugh," she muttered around her cigarette.

His expression quickly sobered. He considered her closely in the tense silence.

"Do you still talk to him? Is he alive?"

She blinked. "You don't know?"

He shook his head, leaning towards her and resting his arms on his knees.

"How? You didn't keep in contact with him while you were in hiding?"

"No…" he looked away, seeming to have that same internal debate before meeting her eyes. "It's complicated. But I haven't heard anything about him or any of the others in eight years. Tell me everything you know."

He gazed at her so imploringly it made him look at least a decade younger, reminding her once again of his younger brother and of times far less dire and complicated. It softened her hardened heart just a fraction, just enough to humor him.

She cleared her throat once more, trying to break through the thick fog that had formed around her mind to string together a coherent sentence that didn't implicate her too deeply. Rodolphus claimed to be a friend, but she knew first hand how quickly friends could become foes. That thought gave her pause.

"How do I know you're really you?"

He seemed taken aback by the question. "What?"

"How do I know you aren't some Ministry lackey, polyjuiced as a dead man to trick me into revealing something that'll land me in a cell next to my nephew?"

He considered her for a moment, a look of annoyance flashing across his face before fading into his classic mask of indifference. He didn't break her gaze as he delivered a memory that immediately made her chest ache anew.

"At Slughorn's Christmas party we got trapped under mistletoe. We kissed to get free, then both agreed not to tell anyone. We didn't want our dates finding out."

She felt tears forming behind her eyes at the memory and smirked to brush off the intensity of the moment. "I wouldn't have minded Bella finding out I made out with her beau. I arrived prepared, I even wore red to hide any blood."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile that formed. "The two of you… Merlin. Be that as it may, I know neither of us looked forward to Rab finding out his older brother kissed his date before he did."

She looked away, swallowing thickly and taking another drag. "I can't believe you never told him. You never kept anything from each other."

Rodolphus was silent a long moment before sighing. "We both had our secrets. I kept mine to protect him. Or so I told myself at the time."

She glanced up, meeting his gaze and seeing whatever haunted emotion lived in her heart mirrored in his eyes. It felt good to share the burden of pain for once.

Misery loves company.

"Now... will you tell me about my brother?"

She blew a smoke ring at the ceiling and closed her eyes.

"I don't even know where to start."

She heard him shift closer, the heat of his body radiating against her side.

"Tell me everything, starting from when I disappeared."

May 4, 2006

Knockturn Alley, London

"You did what?"

Vivid green flames flared in every direction as she yelled, an enraged dragon emerging from his hearth.

"We discussed this before I departed your company this morning."

"No, we discussed the miscarriage story! I can't believe you told him the truth!"

"A miscarriage story wouldn't have held any weight. Why would I erase his memory of Bella losing Rodolphus's child?"

"I- It- We could have thought of something!"

"It is better this way, Narcissa."

The fire reached dangerously close to his face as she bit back a scream. "What! How is this better? Now he's once more in possession of information that could kill him and he hates us for suppressing the memories in the first place! I already had trouble getting him to visit, now I'll be lucky if he ever lets me see my grandchild!"

He ladeled the mixture out of the cauldron and poured it into a glass vial, careful not to spill a drop. A faint cloud of blue smoke hung in the air around him.

"Severus! Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course."

"Ah! Morgana you drive me insane! I can't- you don't-" she huffed. "There are no words to describe how infuriated I am!"

He grabbed his wand and stoppered the glass, adding the appropriate sticker and setting it beside identical vials in a crate labeled Mungos. He then calmly turned to face the fireplace where Narcissa's scowling likeness flared brightly from brick to brick.

"I assure you, this only helps Draco. Just because he was ignorant of the noose around his neck doesn't mean it isn't there. Binding the memories was the safest course of action while the investigation was in full force eight years ago. The circumstances are different now. Uncovering the nursery allows us to control the narrative. There is a workaround that will allow the Vow to become null and void. I will help Draco free himself entirely."

Narcissa shook her head. "It's too risky, Severus. I'm afraid for him. And for you."

The muffled sound of a door closing drew both their attention to the back of the room. Indistinct voices could be heard on the other side of the wall.

"I have to go, Narcissa. Call me later tonight if you'd like to discuss this further."

She sighed deeply, the flames fanning to great heights as though she were truly breathing fire.

"No, I can't talk about this anymore. It's making me sick."

"I'll send you some Pepper-Up with thistle root."

She blinked. "I can never tell if you're being serious or attempting humor in a firecall."

His expression revealed nothing as another knock sounded.

"Just a moment!" he called over his shoulder, turning to face the hearth once more.

"Get some rest. I promise you, there's nothing you should worry about tonight that wasn't already a cause for concern."

She sighed and shook her head. "Severus, you're terrible at providing comfort."

He smiled sardonically. "I won't comfort you with lies, but I can assure you with truth."

"Merlin. I'm going to go before you make this any worse, assuming that's even possible."

As the flames faded he made his way across the lab to allow the hospital courier entrance. As soon as he opened the door he fought back a grimace, recognizing the face eager to greet him from where they stood on the other side.

"Evenin' Mister Snape! I'm here to pick up May's wolfsbane order."

"Yes, come in, I am finishing the last crate."

He stalked back to his workstation quickly, hoping to avoid pointless conversation as he sealed the lid to the final box and levitated it to sit atop the others.

"It's such a pretty lookin' potion, ain't it?"

Severus made notes on a piece of parchment. "If you say so."

"Course it's not as pretty as the baby cryin' potion, specially since that one changes color in the glass."

Snape blinked, looking up from his notes to stare at the courier. So much for avoiding pointless conversation.

"The anti-colic formula?"

"Er… yeah. Oh!" His enthusiastic outburst made Severus jump. "Sorry! I was just gonna mention that sparkly powder you make, the one that looks like glitter. My girlfriend uses it all the time. Mixes it in her lotion. You think it's gonna start sparklin' everywhere but the moment it touches her skin it turns clear."

Severus stared at him blankly for a moment. "The simplex glistening powder?"

"That's it!" The man shouted enthusiastically. "It's amazing! She uses it all the time. Actually, you have any extra layin' 'round I can buy? I think we're runnin' low at the house."

Severus tapped the quill against the counter. "The powder's primary purpose is the treatment of oral and genital warts. I strongly discourage its use outside of an outbreak as the active ingredients can cause a rash on unaffected skin with prolonged daily use."

The courier blinked. "Huh?"

Snape looked back down at his parchment, making notes along the margin. "I'm out of the powder."

"Oh. Okay."

Snape cast a shrinking and weightlessness charm on the crates before signing over their custody. The courier paused on his way out, looking over his shoulder and causing Snape to curse internally.

"Hey, you ever think bout openin' your own shop, connected to your lab?"

Snape started cleaning up his work space. "I don't have a sale's mentality."

"What's that?"

"An ability to pretend the customer's always right."

The courier adjusted the crates in his arms. "Oh, well you don't hafta. You could hire other people to sell stuff. You just stay in the lab, brewin' away night and day like you do now."

Severus paused and glanced up from scrubbing the counter.

"What's your name?"

The courier shifted, taken aback by the question but recovering with a toothy grin. "Oscar."

"Oscar," Snape repeated slowly. "That's a clever idea."

They both looked bemused by the admission, though Oscar quickly preened under the praise.

"Wait there a moment," Snape continued, making his way from behind the counter. "I'll rummage up a jar of glistening powder from the back."

Euphemia was once more sprawled across the chaise in the guest parlor, but this time it was of her own volition. She stared up at the vaulted ceiling, tracing the crown molding with her eyes. Her left arm and leg dangled off the edge, her bare foot and fingertips resting on the silk rug. A crystal bowl rested near her palm, half filled with ashes and butts. A cloud of smoke hovered near her head. She blinked through the haze.

"Wha- what was I saying?"

Rodolphus sighed, running a hand over his face. Euphemia was fading fast, going in and out of coherency as quickly as she went through cigarettes.

"You were telling me about the newest safe house."

She hummed under her breath. "Oh, yeah, that…"

He bit his tongue, clenching his hands together in front of him. The desire to throttle her was strong.

"Do you know where it is?"

She rolled onto her side. "I need another cig-"

"Do you know where the safe house is located, Euphemia?"

She blinked slowly. "What? No. Of course not. Rabby never tells me the location."

He sighed, fishing the gold case from his pocket and flipping it open. She reached over and pulled the second to last cigarette free.

"Shite. I've been meaning to send Fletch for more. That's okay, I can switch to gin."

He shut the case, tracing the cursive monogram etched into the lid. "Fletch is your only elf?"

She pushed into a sitting position with a groan. "Elves cost money, something I don't have an abundance of at the moment."

He raised a brow "You pay your elves wages?"

She laughed, high and leodic like bells. "Hardly! Can you even imagine? That would be like paying a bird to fly or a kneazle to hunt mice."

"Then why do they cost you money?"

She pushed off the chaise to her feet, swaying a bit. "Well as tiny as they are they eat a surprising amount. And they still get sick from time to time. Or injured, climbing to clean something they can't reach. Stupid little beasts. With my current standing I hardly think keeping thin and sickly elves would help my family's reputation."

She slowly made her way to the side of the room, holding onto furniture to keep her balance. She stopped before a tall cabinet, which opened to a selection of bottles and glasses.

"Muggles may be simple minded creatures but they certainly have their vices down to an art form. One does get tired of firewhiskey, day after day. What can I pour you? I really must recommend the London dry, it's quite superb. Do you like juniper?"

"None for me."

She laughed again, grabbing a glass and filling it with a clear liquid. "Merlin's sake, don't tell me you're a teetotaler now. I assumed you spent the last eight years in a drunken stupor, that's why you couldn't be bothered to let anyone know you were alive."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Come now, have one little drink with me for old time's sake."

"I'd rather listen to you answer my questions."

She rolled her eyes, taking a deep drink from her glass and leaning against the cabinet.

"Why do I have to do all the talking? I'd love to know where you've been all this time, what you've been up to."

He looked down at his hands, allowing the silence to permeate the room before slowly getting to his feet. He made his way over to where she stood, watching him through clouded eyes.

"I wasn't anywhere."

He reached toward his neck, tugging on a gold chain. "I wasn't doing anything." He pulled a large pendant out from under his shirt. "The last eight years were a literal blur."

The necklace dangled in front of her face. She squinted, taking a closer look. Was that a…? Her eyes widened.

"It seems like the final battle was only a few day ago. Because for me, it was."

She looked beyond the time turner and met his dark gaze. "Holy shite."

They stood over the crib, gazing down at the sleeping infant within. Soon after Euphemia fainted and he levitated her to the parlor het set off to explore the upstairs, transfiguring a crib and putting Delphi down for the night.

"When I saw you earlier... after I came to I thought I imagined the baby. Course I thought I imagined you, too. I should have known…"

He stepped closer to the crib, resting his hand on the railing. He heard Euphemia shift her weight behind him.

"I…" she trailed off.

He watched the baby sleep. "I know."

She shook her head. "It's..."

"Yeah."

"And she's… "

"Yes."

"Merlin."

He sighed. "Tell me about it."

"I need another drink." She darted out of the room but he was hot on her heels, catching her arm in the hall and spinning her to face him.

"No more gin, Euphemia."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll switch to wine."

"No more alcohol."

She blinked, furrowing her brow. "No more… what do you mean?"

He released her arm and stepped back. "I need your help, Fifi."

Realization dawned in her eyes, clearing away some of the fog. "Oh no…" She staggered back. "No you don't!"

He raised his hands but she continued to yell before he could speak.

"You don't get to use my nickname and get whatever the fuck you want! I am not going down that road again!"

He shook his head. "I promise you this is not the same-"

"Oh you promise me! Lovely. Because your promises mean so much. The last time you made me a promise it royally fucked up my life, excuse me if I'm not excited to listen to your bullshite again!"

"Euphemia!" he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down! Why the bloody hell do men say that? Has it ever worked?"

His gaze darkened with a groan. "Look, I am sorry about what happened between you and Rab-"

"Just stop it!" She screamed, jerking out of his grip.

He cringed, glancing briefly towards the nursery. He listened for a moment but heard no mewling cry. He faced the witch trembling before him, tears streaming down her face, leaving black tracks of eyeliner and mascara across her cheeks.

"I am truly sorry about what happened," he tried again, voice level and eyes sincere. "But that was over twenty years ago, and trust me when I say Rab spent fourteen years repenting for every sin and wrong he ever committed as he rotted away in that filthy cell."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I never wanted... I never wanted him to suffer. I was angry but I never hated him."

"I know."

He reached out and gently squeezed her arm. She shook her head with her eyes still closed but slowly leaned in, sobbing into his shirt front. He swallowed, staring at the wall above her head with his arms hovering behind her. Slowly he embraced her, feeling her shake harder as his arms made contact. He sighed into her hair. "I know."

She cried a few more moments before speaking in a strained voice, muffled by his chest. "He was never the same. None of you were. Azkaban broke something inside you all that never healed back the right way."

Rodolphus blinked, at a loss for words and finding no urge to argue. She sniffled, pulling back just enough to tilt her head up and make eye contact.

"Losing you was the final straw for him. After you disappeared… he... " she paused, taking a deep breath. "He was never the same. That small piece of him that survived Azkaban was gone, disappeared overnight... just like you."

He swallowed, feeling a stinging sensation behind his eyes and blinking rapidly.

"Euphemia-" his voice sounded hoarse and grating to his ears. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Euphemia, I need your help."

She stared at him in silence, eyes red and puffy but no longer swimming with tears. "You want me to honor the Vow."

"I want you to help me, as a friend."

She smiled with just the corner of her mouth, conveying a look of such powerful sadness it caused his chest to tighten painfully.

"Friends? I haven't had a friend in a very long time."

"You have one now. I need you, and you need me."

She raised a brow. "Do I now?"

"Yes." He spoke with confidence, grasping her arms and stepping back at arm's length. "You need money, I can provide for you and Delphi."

She wiped at her face, smearing her makeup even more. "Oh yeah? And how do you propose to do that? I know you haven't done much these last eight years but the Ministry's been quite busy, seizing every knut to both our family's names."

He sighed, having already assumed as much but hearing it aloud still stung. "I suspected as much would happen if our side lost. I set up private accounts in other countries, under different names. I just need to access the funds and I'll be able to keep you comfortable."

She blinked, then chuckled with a shake of her head. "Euphemia Rowle, a kept witch. Never thought I'd live to see the day a man offered to take care of me."

He couldn't help but smile. "You were always the heartbreaker back in school."

"I was, wasn't I?" She said proudly, then burst into slightly hysterical laughter. He continued to watch her, waiting for her to gain her bearings. She finally took a deep breath and straightened, wrapping her arms around her middle as though uncomfortable.

"I don't think I should be the one to…" she looked away, staring at the ground near his feet. "I'm not the same woman I was eight years ago. I have… I do... " she bit her lip, eyes flickering back and forth before she closed them entirely. "I drink. I take illegal potions. I hate the world. I hate myself. I shouldn't be around a baby little less taking care of one."

She opened her eyes, forcing her gaze upward though he knew it pained her to do so. He held her stare, nodding slowly.

"I know."

She swallowed, her face briefly crumpling as though she may start crying again, but her expression calmed a moment later.

"I know you have your demons," he continued. "We all do. But the fact of the matter is I have nowhere else to turn, and I can't look after her by myself, not at this stage. I need to access my accounts and find my brother. Then we can all start over. Fresh. We can all get a second chance. I just need a bit of time. Please, help me now, Euphemia, and I can promise to make everything better for you."

She blinked, gazing at him with her mouth parted as she processed his words.

"It's too late to start over," she whispered.

He shook his head. "Take it from a man who has lived half of his adult life confined to a cell. It is never too late."

She exhaled deeply through her nose, eyes briefly closing and head dropping as she scuffed her bare foot across the hall runner. He geared up for another plea, another argument. But then she suddenly looked up, eyes alight with some humor he couldn't begin to grasp.

"I just thought.." she started, a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. "Of what Bella's reaction would be if she could see us now. Me, looking after her daughter, and you, offering to take care of me…"

He shook his head, the image too painful to comprehend, as morbidly funny as it may be. Euphemia noticed the tensing of his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought her up. We had our differences but it's crass to speak ill of the dead."

"It's fine," he lied, running a hand through his hair. "I get it." He paused. "Does this mean you'll help?"

She shrugged slightly, rolling her eyes. "What other choice do I have? Drop dead? The Vow doesn't exactly leave me with many options."

He couldn't suppress a smile. "I suppose not. But if you really didn't want to I would relieve you of the obligation."

She nodded. "I know. You always were honorable."

That was not a word he attributed to himself, at least not in many decades. Still, he felt grateful. A major weight had been lifted.

"Thank you, Fifi."

She laughed, shaking her head and rubbing a hand over her eyes. "Circe, don't call me that! It reminds me of my wasted youth."

He started walking down the hall towards the stairs. She fell in step beside him.

"Does this mean you'll finally join me for a drink?" He looked over at her, brow raised. "To celebrate!" she elaborated with a smile.

He smirked. "Why don't we celebrate with giggle water?"

"Ha! As if I keep that kind of shite in the house! Giggle water is for uptight society whores and virgins."

He nodded. "Whores and virgins only, got it."

"Excellent. How about we just do a shot of-"

"Euphemia."

"Oh fine! You're such a bore."

"We'll need to figure out a few things before I leave. Like getting you more help around the house, elves with childcare experience preferably, and-"

"Wait!" she stopped midway down the stairs, two steps higher than him and putting them at eye level. "Leave? Already? Where are you going?"

He leaned against the heavy bannister. "I need to find Rab as soon as possible."

"But I told you I don't know where he stays."

"No, but you have a means of contacting him, or at least of getting a message through to him, don't you?"

She quickly broke his gaze, suddenly looking hesitant. He pushed forward despite her obvious discomfort.

"I know you have connections to the underground trade, that's how you get Elysium. I don't care about that. All I care about is finding my brother before the Ministry does. Can you help me?"

She bit her lip, hands nervously curling at her sides. He wondered what had her so anxious, contacting Rabastan or revealing her drug supplier? She finally looked back up, eyes brimming with some unknown emotion.

"Yeah, I can get a message to him."

He sighed in relief, nodding his head and reaching out to pat her shoulder. "Thank you."

He started down the steps once more, glancing at her over his shoulder. "He and I have a lot to catch up on."