Note: For PeppermintImp, for being such a prolific reader!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
21: Hold My Hand
"Right!" Dora Lupin declared furiously, grasping fistfuls of bed linen in her hands in frustration, "I've had enough! I'm putting my foot down..."
"You can't do that, Nana." her eldest granddaughter interrupted pointedly as she stood gazing impatiently out of the bedroom window. "Literally, I mean. That's why we're having this conversation in the first pl..."
"You watch that lip of yours, Imogen Lupin!" her grandmother snapped as over by the wardrobe Pandora slumped wearily back against the wall. "You've a cheek to talk to your own grandmother like that!"
"Well maybe my grandmother deserves a good talking to!" Imogen retorted, turning to offer the bed-ridden witch a scowl. "Just what're you doing?! Lying there all day long like...like you're waiting to...to die!"
"Immy!" Pandora cried, grasping fistfuls of hair in agitation. "Don't say that!"
"Why not?!" Imogen snapped, gaze upon Dora accusing. "It's true, isn't it?! She won't get out of bed!"
"I can't get out of bed, Im."
"No, you won't get out of bed! You don't want to get out of bed! You could get up if you wanted to! You could...could sit in that wheelchair and you could come with Pan and I to Diagon Alley for an hour or two! But you won't! Because you've given up!"
There was a sizeable pause and Dora's face contorted into a particularly obscure expression that Pandora suspected was an attempt to not spit fire. Then, remarkably calmly, the Auror informed her granddaughters:
"The only place I'm going when I can get out of this bed is to Auror Headquarters. And you'll not want me with you in London anyway! You don't want to be followed around by a bunch of news reporters all day!"
"What in Merlin's name do you know about what I want or what anyone wants?!" Imogen snapped, making no attempt to calm down whatsoever. "Maybe I want a trip out with my Nana and my sister! Because we never do that anymore! Maybe I want to...to...I don't know, wrap you round my little finger and persuade you to buy me a monstrously huge ice cream sundae at Florian's! Maybe I want your opinion on some new dress robes I might buy or...or maybe I want to...to listen to you bad-mouth half the contents of the copy of Witch Weekly I'll buy on our way home..."
"Nobody wants that." Pandora muttered darkly, but Imogen wasn't listening.
"Or maybe Pandora wants a bit of support going out in a place like Diagon what with the papers and everything sticking their noses in all the time! Maybe we want a bit of...of family solidarity! Or maybe...just maybe, Nana, Grandad wants you up and about before you drive him utterly mad or...or break his heart!"
There was another long silence, before a voice from out in the sitting room called:
"Imogen."
Both Imogen and Pandora winced a little.
Because it didn't matter how old either of Remus Lupin's granddaughters grew, they would always recognise that tone of voice and, yet more wince-worthy, precisely what it meant.
Even if both girls could probably count how often they had heard their grandfather use it on the fingers of a single hand.
It was the mildest, calmest, yet forceful tone of voice that their grandfather reserved for expressing extreme disapproval, disappointment and all manner of things one would rather die than bestow upon a beloved grandparent for a single second.
Imogen shrank back towards the window in shame and remained mute. Pandora gazed over at her pityingly. Then, to Imogen's continuing shame, Remus asked:
"Might I borrow you for a moment, Sweetheart?"
When Imogen didn't move or draw breath to reply, her grandmother suggested:
"You can stick the kettle on whilst you're at it, love."
Imogen was midway through scowling at this suggestion when Remus added:
"Please."
Feet dragging with the dead weight of reluctance pulling at every inch of her, Imogen slowly straightened up and shuffled out of the room. Remus pushed the door firmly shut.
Pandora examined her shoes for several long minutes, and in turn Dora examined Pandora. Eventually, Pandora sucked in a deep, determined breath and looked up, beginning:
"Nana..."
"I've been lying here thinking about you all day long." Dora interrupted, causing Pandora to look back down at her shoes again.
"Only good things, I hope." the teenager mumbled, and Dora's gaze drifted over towards the bedroom window.
"I want you to go to Diagon Alley with Imogen. Just the two of you." Dora said, watching the wind blow at the leaves upon the trees outside, and Pandora sighed heavily.
"But Nana..."
"I'm not going to be here to hold your hand forever, you know."
"I know, but..."
"You're not a little girl anymore, Pandora."
"But..."
"You're a mother."
Pandora's gaze snapped up to stare at Dora, who seemed to register the movement without looking round.
"You know, there are a whole load of things a woman has to master if she's to be a half-decent mother. She's got to know how to change nappies and make up bottles and learn how to function on a couple of hours of sleep a night." Dora recalled, shifting uncomfortably upon the mattress. "But that all comes later, you get the trick of it one way or another. There's one thing that's got to come first, Pan, and it's not something you can learn. You either got it or you haven't. And I've been lying here for hours, wondering..." She looked round, dark eyes upon her granddaughter making the breath catch a little in Pandora's throat.
"Have I got it?" Pandora whispered, taking an uncertain step forward, and Dora's lips twitched towards an uncertain smile.
"I don't know, love." the old witch confessed, sighing heavily. "I don't know if you've got it. I don't even know if I've got it myself..."
"What is it?"
Dora frowned.
"A...a lack of doubt. A certainty..."
"About what?"
"Yourself. Your...being. About who and...and what you are."
"Surely you know who you are, Nana..."
"Do I? Do you? Does anyone? Does anyone really know themselves entirely..."
"But...what does it matter?"
"Oh, it matters! Because we can doubt everything in the world, Pan. We can doubt everything and everybody! That's human nature for you! If we can't know just one thing...if we can't just know ourselves then we'll be lost in chaos, mark my words! And a mother...a mother or grandmother or anyone of the sort cannot be lost like that, Pan. If she is then...then she's not good enough! She'll be no good to anyone! You can't be your children's anchor in a storm if...if you don't know what that anchor is made of! It might be hard as diamonds, at least you hope it is! But what if it's made of...of softer stuff entirely? How can you be what they all need you to be? You just can't! They'll all get washed away and...and drowned!"
Pandora felt as if something had lodged itself in the back of her throat.
"Don't you ask me to hold your hand, Pandora Lupin." her grandmother hissed, eyes widening in horror at the idea. "You stand on our own two feet and...and figure out who you are and...and what you can do yourself! For that baby of yours! Because I...I don't know! I don't!"
Pandora watched numbly as the witch reached to clamp a hand over her mouth, breathing grown ragged from her outburst before she reached a fumbling hand sideways to snatch up a potion bottle from the bedside table. As Dora uncorked the bottle, Pandora saw that her hands were trembling.
The girl took in the array of empty bottles upon the bedside table, her stomach twisting into knots.
"How...how many of...of those have you drunk this morning?" she whispered accusingly, and when her grandmother ignored her, she made a beeline for the bedside table, demanding: "How many, Nana?!"
Dora eyed her disapprovingly for a long moment, huffing irritably when the girl asked:
"Does Grandad know? Does he know you're...you're...what is it? Double? Triple dosing..."
"I'm sure he can count, yes."
"And how many would he count? Is it just these here or...or..."
Before Dora could stop her, Pandora had reached to grab hold of a handle and pulled open a drawer to find yet more empty bottles crammed inside.
"Does he know about these too?!" she cried as Dora slumped furiously back against her pillows, and when the witch didn't reply, the girl concluded: "I bet he bloody doesn't! Because he knows just as well as...as you do that it's dangerous! You could...could kill yourself, Nana!"
"What in Merlin's name do you know about it?!" Dora half-shrieked, finally snapping entirely. "You're a bloody Squib!"
And with that Pandora snatched the bottle from the witch's hand and flung it with all her might at the nearest wall with a scream of frustration, whereupon it shattered in an ugly spray of glass and sticky liquid that made both grandmother and granddaughter flinch.
Pandora looked at the ugly stain upon the wallpaper as liquid dripped down the wall, before her head snapped round to stare down at her grandmother.
Dora stared back at her, face positively ashen as the bedroom door was flung open, Imogen and Remus rushing into the room at the sound of the commotion. The pair stopped dead, taking in the broken glass, but Pandora barely registered their entrance.
She simply stared down at the witch upon the bed...this...stranger, this imposter who had drained the life from her grandmother and twisted her mind into Merlin knew what...
She watched Dora's face fall in panic, and with a shuddered breath the witch reached a hand forward.
"S...Sweetheart..."
Pandora backed away towards the window, shaking her head. Dora leant desperately forward, but she simply couldn't reach her.
"Please, love...I just..."
Pandora shook her head more vigorously, lips pursed furiously together against the torrent of tears that were already beginning to seep from her eyes. And with that she turned on her heel and stormed off towards the door, ignoring her grandmother's pleading of:
"Pan, wait!"
There came the rustling of bedclothes been thrown back from the bed and the creak of a mattress and Pandora was about to push her way past her sister when she heard:
"Pandora, just w..."
Crash!
Pandora spun around just in time to watch her grandmother hit the floor in a mess of wasted legs and metal, dragging a tangle of sheets with her as countless glass bottles were swept clumsily off the bedside table.
Pandora watched numbly as Remus and Imogen rushed forward, and moments later she hardly heard her grandfather demand:
"Floo the hospital, Pandora!"
The girl stood motionlessly for a while, watching Imogen haul a trembling Dora back onto the bed as Remus banished the broken glass. The werewolf paused for a moment, staring down at the open drawer of empty bottles and vials, and Pandora was just watching his face pale when she heard Imogen snap:
"What are you waiting for, Pan?! The hospital! Now!"
Pandora fled to the fireplace.
"It's my Nana." she told the witch sat before the hospital fireplace a moment later.
"And what seems to be the problem, dear?" the witch asked kindly, scrawling notes upon a clipboard.
And Pandora considered this question for a long moment, before confessing:
"I don't think she knows how to be my Nana anymore. In fact I...I don't think she knows how to be anything..."
"It's terribly quiet around here." Teddy Lupin observed through a mouthful of toast, spraying the papers upon the kitchen table before him with crumbs, and as she set a fresh cup of coffee down at his elbow, his wife murmured:
"Lovely, isn't it?"
"Where are the girls?" Teddy wondered as she slipped into a seat beside him, setting her own cup down before her.
"They've gone to pick a fight with your mother." Carrie told him, rather as if she wanted to add: rather them than me!
The Auror made a vaguely disapproving noise under his breath.
"They want her to go shopping with them, apparently." his wife elaborated, taking a sip of her drink.
"Really? Shopping? That's never really been her thing..."
"No, but being stuck in that bed isn't her thing either. Imogen says they are determined!"
Teddy reached to rake a wary hand through his sandy hair.
"They shouldn't push her. She's...fragile."
"I'm not sure fragility is part of your mother's vocabulary, love."
"Maybe not up until now, no. But..." Teddy trailed off, frowning blankly at the parchment he was examining.
"She seemed quite cheerful when we saw her the other day." Carrie reasoned a little half-heartedly, only for Teddy to confess:
"Dad's at his wit's end. He owled me at work yesterday afternoon, said he doesn't know what to do with her. She's...not herself. He said she's...lost."
"Lost?" Carrie echoed, entirely disturbed by the notion, and Teddy sat back in his chair, sighing heavily.
"Dad says she's having the most dreadful crisis of confidence, doesn't trust herself to think straight or do anything at all. It's awful, he says, first she was against so much as taking a nap let alone being confined to her bed. Now she doesn't seem to be able to grasp the idea that she'll ever get better or...or leave that bed ever again! And it got worse yesterday, Dad says she's not just doubting herself over this business with Pandora and Fawley, she's doubting her whole bloody existence on Earth or more!"
"I don't know what the world's coming to," Carrie confessed bleakly, "if your mother of all people can doubt as much as that."
"The world's been coming to something long before that." Teddy muttered, only to sigh and look up at his wife, smiling faintly. "I've not long before Ron arrives. To think, I'll have had a whole two hours to myself this morning!"
"And yet here you are...still working!" Carrie observed, leaning to peer down at the papers in front of him.
"Mum would expect no less."
"Your mum used to know when enough was enough. What're you looking at?"
"Mum's notes from her talk with Pan."
Quite suddenly, Carrie felt as if she didn't quite know where to look.
"How does it read?" she wondered, not entirely sure whether or not she wanted to know, but Teddy merely suggested:
"It's very...factual." The Auror reached to close the neat paper file, pushing it away towards the centre of the table before reaching for his coffee. "I'll come home for lunch." he decided, free hand reaching to rest upon Carrie's knee, and as she rested a hand atop his, the muggle suggested:
"We could pop out, if you like. The girls won't be back, I don't think. It'd make a nice change. They've a cafe on Lyme Street, only opened the other week. Cleo says they do a decent baguette and a good cup of tea..."
"Do they do an all day breakfast?" Teddy asked as there came a knock at the front door.
"Full English, Cleo said." Carrie murmured somewhat disapprovingly, and as he rose to his feet, Teddy rolled his eyes at her.
"Don't give me that look!"
"I made you a fry up only yesterday!"
"Well yes but...all these raids and patrols, darling, one can build up a heck of an appetite..."
"I've noticed."
"What're you saying?" he paused halfway across the kitchen, turning to look at her suspiciously.
Carrie looked him up and down meaningfully, before deciding rather too slowly:
"Nothing, love. That'll be Ron at the door, will it?"
"Yes, right..." Teddy muttered, turning on his heel to head towards the front of the house, pausing for the briefest of self-conscious glances in the hallway mirror as he went.
Carrie sniggered into her coffee.
It was a windy day in Epsom, Surrey, and as he stood at the edge of the field, mug of tea clasped tightly in both hands, David Dawes of the Surrey Bowman mused that today was not a good day for archery.
He'd have to get Gary to set a few extra targets up indoors, he thought, turning to head back down the dirt track to the club's modest headquarters. They'd have to jump to it, too, they were expecting a coach load of Cub Scouts to show up for a demonstration within a couple of hours. Until then it was just David and Gary and possibly, though probably not for he was always late, safety officer Gordon. Gordon was no doubt still at home and David had left Gary in the office, manning the computer.
David always enjoyed mornings like this, the quiet ones where he could wander along the edge of the practice range and imagine himself back when the club had first formed, all those years ago when archery was no mere hobby but a valued skill. These days the club held themed days on occasion, everybody would turn up in their finest medieval costumes, or whatever suspect garments the local fancy dress shop had to offer, they'd have a hog roast on a spit and music and invite all the locals to watch one of the club's numerous archery tournaments. Preparations for this years' event were already in full swing, so much so that David found he seemed to spend more time in committee meetings than actually out shooting, which seemed downright...well...wrong. It was a damn shame, he thought as he reached to turn up his coat collar against the wind as it whipped through the trees, because he'd only bought his new longbow a few weeks back, it'd cost an absolute fortune and he'd barely had the chance to try it out at all...
David paused.
He could hear footsteps upon the track behind him, and as he turned to look over his shoulder he heard voices drifting through the trees.
"...I'm not saying I'm perfect!"
"Well, no..."
"But I think she's being a bit harsh!"
"Well yeah..."
"I'm bound to be a bit more...you know...at my age!"
"Well that's women for you. They're after perfection. Or at least most of them are...they can't all be after it, else Hermione wouldn't have married me..."
"You don't hear me telling her she's looking a bit on the chubby side, do you?! I know she isn't, but that's not the point..."
"You'll have to watch out. She'll be putting you on a diet next."
"She wouldn't!"
"'Course she would. Like I said...women..."
Two men rounded the corner from the car park, seemingly quite engrossed in their damnation of the female race. One, older, had faded ginger hair and was walking with his arms folded across his chest, as if the whole discussion had quite ruined his day, whilst his younger companion, dressed in an open-necked cream shirt and smart brown chinos, was frowning down at his stomach, which caused him to very nearly trip over a tree root.
"Women...and I'm stuck in a house full of them..." the disgruntled husband muttered, only to look up and spot David watching their approach. He instantly brightened, raising a hand in greeting as he called: "Ah, good morning!"
"Good morning," David replied as they came to a halt before him. "Can I help you at all?"
"We're looking for a Mr David Dawes." the older man supplied, finally letting his hands drop down to his sides, and the muggle informed him:
"Well, you've found him!"
"That's a stroke of luck. My name is Ron Weasley, Mr Dawes, and this is Ted Lupin."
David shook Ron Weasley and Ted Lupin by the hand, wondering:
"Have you come about the archery lessons? We're almost completely booked up this month..."
"Oh no," Ted Lupin said as with a mumble David set about leading the way on towards the shelter of indoors. "We're looking for somebody, a friend of ours. You see he seems to have gone missing..."
"Missing?"
"Yes, and we think he used to come here an awful lot. We wondered if you might've heard from him, Mr Dawes. His name is Jeffrey Fawley..."
"Go."
Imogen Lupin stared blankly at the pot of floo powder that had just been thrust under her nose. There was a sizeable pause before her grandfather insisted: "Go on, Imogen. Off you go!"
"No." the young witch said, looking up to offer the elderly wizard a scowl. "We're not going."
Remus Lupin pursed his lips in consideration as behind him Pandora shuffled sideways to let a witch in lime green robes dash back into the bedroom.
"We're quite alright, Sweetheart." the werewolf insisted, giving the pot of powder a half-hearted shake. "Nana's in perfectly safe hands..."
"We don't want to go shopping, Grandad!" Imogen pointed out furiously. "Nana's ruined it!"
"Then you can take Pan home instead." Remus insisted. "I don't want the pair of you under my feet, your Nana and I need some time to ourselves."
"I bet." Pandora mumbled, and her grandfather's face contorted into a prolonged wince.
"I'll owl Mum and Dad later. Now go on, off you pop!"
Imogen huffed, turning to look at Pandora in consideration, before deciding:
"Oh sod it, come on Pan! Let's go to the Leaky!"
"Excellent." Remus concluded as his granddaughter snatched up a generous handful of floo powder, and Pandora reluctantly followed suit.
The two sisters sat in a corner of the pub, each nursing a bottle of butterbeer in grim silence. After what seemed like an age, Imogen finally sighed heavily, hand falling down to slap against the table, making Pandora jump.
"You mustn't take a bit of notice of her, Pan." the witch told the squib firmly. "She's very sick. Her mind's at least half as broken as her body, Merlin knows what's going on inside her head..."
"You provoked her." Pandora whispered, staring bleakly at the tabletop between them, and Imogen immediately complained:
"How was I to bloody know?! This is...this is Nana we're talking about, Pan! Our Nana! She's about as...as clear-headed as they come! How was I to know she'd turn into a raging lunatic overnight?!"
"She's not a lunatic. She's just...just..."
"She's off her head on painkillers, Pandora! Do you have any idea what that can do to the brain?!"
"She's lost. She doesn't know...she doesn't know where she's going anymore. And she's right, you know. What she said to me...she said we have to know who we are or...or where we're going if we're going to support others. And she's right, Im. Because now she doesn't know...now she doesn't know what to do, I don't know what to do either..."
They sat in silence for a moment before Imogen told her sister:
"It can cause permanent brain damage, you know. Taking potions like that. She could be like this forever..."
"Shut up." Pandora hissed, screwing her eyes shut against the tears that suddenly seemed to spring to her eyes. In her toxic mixture of despair and anger, Imogen ignored her.
"It's true, you know. It happened to one of the Harpies' beaters. She had this terrible accident in practice one day, wound up in hospital. She was in so much pain for months that she just took potion after potion after potion...started getting all over emotional, crying at the drop of a hat! And she'd never been that way before..."
"Shut up!"
"They kicked her off the team. Then of course the poor girl went and overdosed..."
"Stop it!" Pandora cried, fists slamming down upon the table in frustration. "Just stop it! You're not helping!"
The pub around them seemed to have gone a little quiet at the girl's outburst, and Imogen promptly bit her tongue, only for eyes to widen in panic when a very familiar voice from over her shoulder called:
"Imogen...?"
Imogen froze as Pandora hastily swiped a sleeve across her eyes, and when the elder sister had slowly turned to look over her shoulder, face growing pink in embarrassment, Phoenix Selwyn straightened up from his position leant back against the bar and observed: "I thought it was you!"
Imogen very nearly upset her butterbeer into her lap, face blooming with embarrassment as Pandora stared over at the stranger, rapidly attempting to blink the tears away from her eyes.
"N..Nick!" Imogen exclaimed far too brightly. "Hi! Um...we were just...um...just..."
"Having a drink." Pandora supplied in the altogether bewildered and yet smug manner of a sibling able to think clearly enough to make their relation look even more daft than they were already achieving solo, and Imogen kicked her hard under the table and agreed:
"Precisely!"
Nick's smile barely faltered for a second before he said in the polite tones of somebody graciously pretending a conversation was entirely normal:
"I see!"
"This is Phoenix Selwyn, Pan." Imogen supplied, having recovered from the shock of seeing him amidst the sisters' accidental public display. "He's Mr Selwyn's son, from work."
"Hello," Pandora said, recovered enough herself to look the wizard in question up and down.
He was awfully handsome, the teenager concluded, having barely taken in a quarter of him, and despite herself she smiled quite dumbly when he came to stand just before the table to observe:
"You must be Pandora, it's lovely to meet you." Gaze shifting back to Imogen, the wizard asked: "How's your nana doing? On the mend, I hope!"
"Oh she's...getting there." Imogen said, managing to plaster a half-smile onto her lips and Pandora wondered precisely where 'there' was.
"Excellent," the wizard said, apparently having decided that 'there' was precisely the sort of place one ought aim to be, and Pandora watched Imogen's face grow pink when he wondered: "Can I buy the pair of you a drink, perhaps? They're about to announce the Quidditch scores."
"I don't really like Quidditch..." Imogen confessed, and his handsome face grew pensive.
"Really? That's awfully odd."
"Is it?"
"Well no, of course not, only...well you you were captain of your House Quidditch team at school for three consecutive years, weren't you? That's what it said on...on your job application..."
"Oh..." There was a rather long pause before Imogen decided: "Well I've rather gone off sport, to be honest..." Her gaze snapped up to eye him rather accusingly in order to ask: "You've read my job application?"
"I read all the successful job applications." he said, raising an eyebrow, and Imogen found herself mumbling:
"Well I think that's rather nosy of you..."
Phoenix Selwyn laughed, hands slapping down upon the little table so that he could lean down towards her to inquire:
"What're you having to drink?"
"He used to come here almost every weekend." David said as he and his two visitors settled down upon the cold plastic chairs of the cramped yet empty reception room. "And he'd come once or twice during the week if he had the chance, used to say he wished he could come more often. But he ran some sort of club, I think. Some sort of community thing, took up all his time...they had a trip down here once to have a go at archery for an afternoon some while back."
"But you've not seen Jeff recently?" Ted asked, leaning forward a little in his seat, and David shook his head.
"No, I've not seen him in weeks...not since the tournament we held last month...I'm pretty sure he was there, in fact I'm sure he was..."
"And that was the last time you saw him? Last month?"
"That's right, not seen or heard from him since. Very odd...but of course it's probably the fees."
"The fees?"
"Yes, the membership fees. He owes us a couple of months' worth at least. Got behind on his payments...perhaps he simply can't afford to pay."
"How much money does he owe?"
"I don't know, you'd have to ask Barbara, she's in charge of the books. She's not popping over until next week, though. She's on holiday, you see. Sunning herself in Spain...Portugal...somewhere hot!"
"I don't suppose you're able to tell us the precise date you last saw Jeff?" Ron asked, and David rose to his feet and made a beeline for the noticeboard in the corner.
"Oh yes, certainly, it'll be on the calender here...let me see..." As the muggle ran a finger searchingly down a list of events tacked to the board, he recalled: "I'm sure Jeff was there because I remember thinking it rather odd!"
"Odd, Mr Dawes?" Ron said as Ted reached into his pocket for a notebook and pencil.
"Yes," David said, pausing in his search to look round at them with a frown, as if to demonstrate his recollection. "You see Jeff always watched the tournaments whenever he could, he'd be right there in the front row! Except he showed up that day and walked straight past the field where we were shooting as if he wasn't interested at all and went straight in here to the indoor practice room."
"I see..."
"And she was with him. That girl of his...I can't remember her name..."
"Rovena...?" Ted suggested, already scrawling notes, only to scribble them out when the muggle said:
"No, I don't think it was Rovena. That's a rather unusual name, I think I'd remember a name like that. She was quite young, this girl. He'd been bringing her along with him all the time for a couple of months, he was teaching her to shoot. She was from that group of his, I think. Came on that trip with the rest of them, must've enjoyed herself, I suppose, so Jeff brought her back. She signed up for membership herself, we'll have a record of it somewhere..." Abandoning the noticeboard, David went to step behind the little reception desk, reaching to pull open a drawer from a filing cabinet in the corner. "Jeff was quite...different, when she was around." he recalled as he flipped through papers and files searchingly.
"In what way was he different?" Ron wondered as he and Ted exchanged a curious look.
"Oh I don't know...just...well he wasn't unfriendly, but he was certainly less chatty than before. It was as if he were very focused on her and their little lessons. He'd be very sociable before she turned up, but after that he only ever really spoke to her, he kept his distance from the rest of us. She never said anything at all, I don't think."
"They were...just friends, Jeff and this girl?"
"I don't know...I didn't pay them much attention, they made me feel...well..."
"They made you feel...?"
David let one drawer slide shut. He regarded it thoughtfully for a long moment before reaching to pull open the one below it, settling on:
"Uncomfortable. Or at least Jeff did..." Without much prompting he gave a huff and complained: "I didn't like it! The way he looked at her, you know? He'd stand so close to her whilst she took aim...lean in really close and...and whisper in her ear! It was just...well...what I'm saying is, I suppose, she was...she was rather young and he was...it wasn't that he...but..."
"Do you think perhaps they might've been more than friends?" Ted interrupted, rather as if he had already made his mind up, and David very nearly shut his fingers in the drawer.
"No! No, no, I'm not saying..." he trailed off, flustered at the notion, before drawing a deep breath to say: "I'm not saying they were more than friends, she was a schoolgirl, probably! And I'm sure he'd never do a thing like that! You know him, as you say, and I'm sure you'll agree he's not like that at all! But I'm saying that Jeff...that Jeff might've had the odd moment of thinking about it! I'm not saying that's right, either, but...well...ah!" Relieved at the distraction, David snatched a paper file out of the drawer and hastily turned to drop it down upon the reception desk. "Here we are," he said, "we always keep a record of our members...let me see...somewhere here..."
Ron and Ted listened to the rustle of papers as David flicked through the records, and Ted was just reaching to rake a weary hand through his hair when the muggle declared:
"Aha! Here she is!"
Ted's hand fell back into his lap and both he and Ron turned to stare over at the desk hopefully, the metamorphmagus' grip upon the pencil in his hand tightening when David read:
"Rochelle Selwyn. She was here yesterday it says, in fact, to pay for new month's membership!"
"This really wasn't how I envisaged my day..." Imogen Lupin confessed as she stood beside Phoenix Selwyn outside Quality Quidditch Supplies as Pandora disappeared into a bookshop across the street. "Going out shopping with my sister and...and the boss' son!"
"You're really rather preoccupied by precisely who I am, aren't you?" Phoenix observed, peering keenly at display of broomsticks and other equipment in the shop window. "And for what it's worth, I think your little sister is perfectly good company!"
Imogen frowned at her shoes for a moment before settling on polite small talk.
"Do you have any siblings, Nick?"
"In a manner of speaking..." he mumbled evasively, causing Imogen to turn to stare at the side of his head. After a long, expectant pause he stopped staring at the window and turned to offer her a smile. "I have a sister, she's around Pandora's age...not that I see her often enough to be much of a brother to her!"
"Why's that?" Imogen wondered, and a distinctly uncomfortable expression passed briefly across his face before he went back to eying the window.
"Oh it's...it's all very complicated." He mumbled, and Imogen found herself supposing:
"Yes, families are a bit like that, aren't they?"
"It's very...complicated." Dora Lupin told her husband warily as she lay upon the bed, watching him stood staring out of the bedroom window, his fingers tapping non-too quietly upon the window frame.
"Is it truly?" Remus murmured, and the witch winced a little.
"Well..."
"It all seems perfectly simple to me. It's not even just simple chemistry, Dora. It's simple common sense!"
"You're a hypocrite." Dora complained weakly, only to sink back against her pillows when he rounded on her, eyes widening in frustration.
"Is that so?! We shall play that game, shall we?! Consider what you have said to Pandora today! Is it not hypocritical of you to cast aside all you have so long claimed to be responsible for, just because you have grown weary of life?! In one breath you wash your hands of all that and in the next you place such responsibility on me! Save me, you say! But am I not old and weary too?! Am I not also fighting some battle with so little hope?! What hope do I have of saving you when you spend your time lying through your teeth to me?! Expecting my...my understanding and...and my blind tolerance and some...some will to keep on going is more hypocritical than anything else by far!"
Dora drew a deep breath, bruised ribs aching at the air rushing into her lungs, only for no words to materialise upon her tongue. Instead, she was left to watch numbly as Remus turned to head for the wardrobe, throwing the doors open in order to snatch a cloak from a rail.
"Where're you going?" his wife wondered weakly as he threw the garment around his shoulders.
"I need some air." he informed her shortly and then, to her utter astonishment he marched over to her bedside table and snatched up her wand, muttering: "And I'll have that, I think..."
"Are you joking?" she asked, very nearly reaching out an infantile hand to try and snatch it out of his fingers, but he shoved it into his pocket and muttered:
"Get some sleep before the others arrive this evening."
"Which others?!" she cried, yet more outraged than ever, and as he headed for the door the werewolf merely muttered:
"Enough it well and truly enough, Dora. I shall have to confess."
"Confess what?!"
He paused in the bedroom doorway and looked round at her, expression a mass of conflicts as he struggled to put what he was thinking in words that he himself would finally hear out loud. Eventually, after frowning enough to make what little colour was in Dora's cheeks fade away to nothing, he answered:
"That I can't deal with you on my own."
"Isn't all this rather below you?" Isaac Graham wondered hoarsely as he lay upon his hospital bed, watching his partner pouring over a stack of Yellow Pages, and as she scribbled down another name and address, Jasmine Wickes gave a soft snort of amusement and wondered:
"Why would you say that? An investigation is an investigation, Isaac. Even the boring parts. Someone's got to do it!"
"I never envisaged that person being you these days." Isaac explained as she flicked searchingly through the local business directory. "Last time Harry had you making lists you were in a foul mood for the best part of a week..."
"Yes, well love," Jasmine interrupted, frowning deeply. "I can't teach cadets the ins and outs of Advanced Curse Deflection whilst sat at your bedside, can I? But I can sit and make lists all day long if Ron wants me to."
"Are you saying you volunteered?"
"That's right. Merlin's, how many muggle hardware stores can there possibly be within a two mile radius of SEWs?! Don't pity me, love, pity the poor sods doing the door-to-door searches starting tomorrow morning. I said to Ron it'll be like searching for a needle in a haystack! Fawley could've bought that acid for the letterbomb absolutely anywhere! In fact he could've bought it using...you know...with the boxes with buttons and all those funny wires that aren't really there..."
"The...Inter-web."
"Yes, that!" Jasmine frowned deeply, reaching to wet a fingertip so that she could turn another page as she muttered: "Muggles, honestly! The things they come up with..."
Isaac shifted against his pillows so that he could better look up at her, lips pursed in consideration for a long moment.
"Darling?"
"Hm?"
"I've been...thinking."
"Mmhm."
"About...the future."
Jasmine, quill pen absentmindedly tickling her chin, merely said:
"Right." Then she looked up and asked: "Shall I get us both a cup of tea?"
"Jasmine," Isaac said, reaching a lead-like hand forward to grasp hold of her by the wrist. "please listen to me..."
"It is nearly lunchtime, after all..."
"I've been thinking..."
"...and all these lists are making me sleepy..."
"I want you to marry me." the dying man finished.
Jasmine dropped her pen. Half a second later the thick yellow book slipped from her lap onto the tiled floor with a thud.
There was an exceptionally long silence before Isaac cleared his throat noisily and said:
"Obviously I...I haven't had the time to pick you a ring, but...well..." He stared at her hopefully as he finished: "...aren't you going to say something?"
"No." Jasmine hissed, teeth clenched against whatever explosion of emotions had just landed in the pit of her stomach, and his face fell a little as he mumbled:
"Oh...well..."
"No, Isaac!" she snapped, suddenly awash with anguish at the idea. "No I'm not going to bloody marry you!"
Isaac let out a huff of pained surprise.
"Wh...what? Why..."
"Why would I want to marry you?!" Jasmine cried, leaping to her feet so that she could turn her back on him, grasping fistfuls of hair in frustration. "You're only asking because you're dying! I don't want to marry someone just because they're dying!"
"I am asking you to marry me because I love you!" Isaac exclaimed, fingers curling into frustrated fists. "Whether or not I'm dying is entirely irrelevant..."
"I've been with you ever since my third year of being a qualified Auror!" Jasmine shrieked, pacing up and down beside the bed. "I live with you! I...I sleep in your bed! We do everything together! Are telling me you've just realised now, after all these years, that you love me enough to want to marry me?!"
"Of course not, Jas, but..."
"Well then! Don't you tell me dying has nothing to do with it!"
"...you never wanted to get married..."
"No, I didn't! Neither did you, you said! We were agreed!"
"Well perhaps we didn't think about it quite as we should!" Isaac insisted, growing breathless at their quarrel. He sunk back down against his pillows, drawing in deep breaths as she continued to stalk up and down beside the bed, her face growing steadily pink.
"You are quiet unbelievable, you know!" she complained with a sniff, shaking her head vigorously.
"I want you taken good care of, darling. When I am gone."
"I can look after myself plenty well enough, Isaac, you know it. And what's marriage got to do with that?! What's wrong with just writing a will?! If you want your share of the house to go to me then all you have to do is say!"
"What if you wanted to retire?"
"I thought you wanted me to keep on working!"
"Yes, but what if...what if you wanted to stop? What about a...a safety net..."
"I have my Ministry pension just the same as you! In fact...in fact, and I...I don't mean to be rude, love, but I'm a Deputy! My pension's worth more than yours is!"
"Is it?"
"Yes!"
"But is it really, Jas? They've stripped you of your Deputy's badge. And they'll deduct a sum for each black mark on your record...you might've had Harry and Tonks around to defend you, but let's be frank, that record of yours is like an over-grown Dalmatian..."
"I'll still have plenty to keep me going, Isaac! I don't need help..."
"If you were my widow you'd be entitled to a share of my Ministry pension. If you had both that and your own you'd afford to keep the house when you retire...that way I could...could leave a larger sum out of my vault to my sister's family and that way...that way everybody's happy..."
"Happy...!" Jasmine muttered disbelievingly, leading to Isaac to try:
"Civil. I don't want any...any fighting over the money or who is entitled to what! And most of all I want you to live a comfortable life, darling. I want to...to look after you the best I can! And marrying you is...is the best I can do, isn't it?! I want to marry you, Jasmine, so that I can know that you will be looked after. Because I love you. Marry me because I love you."
"Why did I agree to marry her, all those years ago?" Remus Lupin wondered aloud as he sunk down onto the plastic chair beside the hospital bed, and Harry Potter turned sharply to stare at him.
"What sort of a thing is that to say?!" the Head of Aurors asked, laughing uncertainly, only for the werewolf to shake his head.
"What I mean to say, Harry, is that marriage is...is not simply about love. Or that it is, but there are often...practical aspects of being married that...that perhaps one does not entirely consider at the time. I know we certainly didn't consider them...after all I...well to be perfectly frank we rather assumed one or both of us wouldn't live to see the end of the war! We didn't consider our marriage would be a...a long term arrangement..."
"I really don't see what this has to do with anything." Harry insisted stubbornly, folding his arms carefully across his chest, and Remus sighed heavily.
"She has always insisted she could not have married anyone else, that I am...that I am what she needs. She always says she needs me, Harry. I've never had a whole lot to offer, and she knows it, but she says she doesn't need any of those...those conventional things...money, a wholly stable life...she has always said she doesn't need any of that. She just needs me. She says nobody else can...can keep her head above the water like I can. She says she couldn't ever rely upon anyone else...and I have always done my best for her. As her husband. Perhaps our marriage was always impractical, it never gave her the benefits it would have given her if she'd married someone else. But I have taken refuge in the fact that marrying her was the right thing to do because I believed her when she said that nobody else can keep her from self-destructing the way that I do. And yet...and yet Harry I am beginning to fear that she is wrong! I am afraid that her faith in me is...is wildly misguided! I don't know how to reach her now! She is...she is quite beyond me, I am sure of it. I am...I am not as strong as she thinks I am, I am not...I am not what she thought she married. Which begs the question: why did I let her persuade me? When I am not...when I am not fit for any of this..."
"Who is ever truly fit for anything life throws at them, Remus?" Harry reasoned. "I know I'm not..."
"But what other use am I? I have nothing, Harry. All I have is...is Dora..."
"Then you will reach her." Harry insisted, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips. "You won't give in to any of this, Remus. You gave in and married her, that much is true. But you won't give in now, not this time, not if she's all you have. Because you know how to fight for what you have, don't you? You've done it over and over again. And if the fight's all gone from Tonks, who d'you suppose, out of the two of you, is going to win?"
Remus frowned as if this all needed some adding up, only for a huff of amusement to escape his lips. After a moment he looked up at Harry before reaching to withdraw something from his pocket.
"I've confiscated her wand." he confessed, very nearly chuckling at the ridiculousness of the statement as he waved the object in question in front of his friend, and Harry's face widened into a grin as he concluded:
"Well if that's not spoiling for a fight, I don't know what is!"
It had been, Imogen thought the next morning as she strode along the cobbles of Diagon Alley towards work, the most unusual of Sundays.
Phoenix Selwyn had taken her and her sister shopping. And bought them ice cream.
It hadn't been quite that ridiculous, she told herself as she slipped through the doors into the reception area. She had bought the ice cream for herself and Pandora, it hadn't seemed right to let him pay for it, and to say he'd taken them shopping had been an exaggeration, he'd just...well...been there...
Imogen had had a wonderful time.
He was funny and charming and handsome and so normal...
He clearly had no idea how utterly wonderful he was.
And he was. He was utterly wonderful...
He was the boss' son, he was the sort of young man who had too much money in his wallet to live entirely in the same world as everyone else, and despite his best efforts she always felt somewhat...below him.
And, most importantly, he really liked Quidditch.
It was a terrible idea...
Not that Imogen had any 'ideas' of course...
The young witch squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance at herself and wiped the water from her boots upon the mat inside the doors. She made herself wonder what Phoenix's girlfriend or fiancee was like and how she was probably one of the most beautiful creatures ever to grace the Earth with a mind to match.
Because he had to have one.
He had to.
Somebody pushed the door open behind her and very nearly walked straight into her.
"Oops!" Phoenix Selwyn slipped nimbly past her with something of a wobble, reaching to tip an imaginary hat as he greeted: "Morning, Immy!"
Before Imogen could mumble any sort of greeting he had turned to stride purposefully towards the desk, calling: "Good morning, Marge! How was your weekend?"
"Very good thank you, Master Selwyn." the receptionist said, throwing the nail file she was holding hastily over her shoulder in the vain hope that he wouldn't spot it, which he clearly did because he gave an exaggerated wink and reached to tap a finger to his nose, causing her to giggle.
Imogen shuffled across the room after him, trying to crush the urge she had to simply grin widely, only for the door behind her to open yet again and another familiar voice to greet:
"Morning, Im."
Imogen spun around just in time to see her father step across the threshold, reaching into the inside pocket of his scarlet robes to withdraw a small leather wallet.
"Dad...?" Imogen said, but Teddy merely offered her a brief smile before making a beeline for the desk, where he flipped open the wallet to hold out for the receptionist's inspection, greeting:
"Good morning. Ted Lupin, Auror Department." Once Marge had glimpsed the shining ID badge the Auror reached to slide it back into his pocket, explaining: "I'm here to speak with Mr Selwyn, if he is available."
"Which Mr Selwyn would that be?" Phoenix asked, leaning upon the reception desk, expression curious, and Imogen's father turned to look him up and down, wondering:
"You are Mr Selwyn Junior, I suspect...?"
"Phoenix Selwyn." Phoenix greeted, offering the other wizard a hand, and as Imogen came to stand beside the pair he asked: "Is this about the guard duty rota, Mr Lupin? Because I'm sure my father would be more than happy to..."
"Actually I'm looking to discover the whereabouts of a Miss Rochelle Selwyn." Teddy said, leaving Phoenix to fall silent, his expression immediately troubled. "She's your sister, I believe?"
Phoenix's gaze darted sideways to the receptionist who had leant forward a little in her chair, before he forced himself to wet his lips and agree:
"Yes...yes, Rochelle is my...my sister..." He straightened up, giving himself a visible shake as he explained: "But she doesn't live with us. She hasn't lived with us for years...it's um...complicated..."
"How long has she lived outside of the family?" Teddy wondered as Marge fidgeting uncontrollably, and Phoenix's eyes flickered to see Imogen watching him before mumbling:
"Since she was...eleven."
"Since your family realised she was a Squib, then?" Teddy attempted to clarify, only for Marge to give an involuntary squeak, reaching to clamp a hand over her mouth.
Phoenix Selwyn looked rather as if he wished the floor would open up and swallow him.
"As I say it's...complicated." he mumbled, face positively ashen, and with that he hastily turned to make a beeline for the corridor beyond the reception, deciding: "Do take a seat, Mr Lupin, and I shall...shall inform my father that you are here..." To the receptionist he snapped: "Put that bloody nail polish away, Miss Crayton! This is a high end potion makers, not some cheap nail salon!"
And with that, Imogen watched numbly as he swept through a door and disappeared from sight.