Best Laid Plans

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

Part One: The Defence Association

Chapter Two:

Excepting the months during which Hogwarts is in session, Helena has visited her parents nearly every Sunday for as long as she can remember. They're permanent residents of the St Mungo's longterm care ward, cursed into a life of insensibility after they were attacked by Death Eaters in the weeks following Voldemort's downfall. In the years since, Sirius has made it his mission to ensure they would not be forgotten, left to rot away in St Mungo's, neglected or disregarded by their loved ones as their daughter grew, as their friends married, as the world moved on without them.

In truth, Helena's only recently come to appreciate Sirius' determination. In past years, she'd resented the visits, the constant reminder of their incapacitation, their subsequent absence in her life, but at (almost) 15, Helena likes to think she's grown as a person.

SHe's certainly grown less bitter, anyway.

In any case, Helena has visited every weekend all summer, content to spend her time with them discussing her life at Hogwarts, her holidays, her hopes and plans for the future. They seem to listen - or at the very least, they enjoy the sound of her voice - because she hasn't experienced any of their emotional - often violent - outbursts, and realistically, that's about the best Helena can expect from them.

In her parents' private hospital room, Helena draws the curtains open to let in the morning sun, chattering about her week, her shopping trip with Emilyn, the most recent antics of Fred and George Weasley as she shuffles around. It's not always easy to remain upbeat in her parents' company - sometimes, it's difficult to face the reality of what they'd suffered, what she'd lost, what they'll never have - but it's a bright, clear morning, she'd had an enjoyable breakfast with Sirius and Emilyn, the boys and Carina, and her parents seem to be experiencing one of their better days.

Helena fusses with the floral bouquet she'd brought to replace the one from the week prior - Lily seems to enjoy them - and approaches her father's bedside with a nervous grin.

"I actually made something for you, Tada ," she says, "A little summer project I've been working on, I guess you could say. I figured you're not really impressed by the weekly bouquets."

Hesitantly, she sets a quartet of ceramic statuettes on her father's bedside table, artfully shaped and painted to resemble Padfoot, Prongs, Longclaw* and Moony. James is transfixed by them, and Helena babbles, inexplicably nervous under his scrutiny.

"I made them myself. Sirius provided the pictures, but I shaped and glazed them by hand, and used a couple of family spells to fire the clay. You won't have to worry about damaging them, either. Remus helped me enchant them to be unbreakable, thief-proof, and to stay animated, and I'm pretty pleased with the results. I hope you like them. Do you suppose they can be considered Potter House ceramics?"

James reaches out a long-fingered hand to touch the statuette of Prongs, and Helena drops gracelessly into the armchair between her parents' hospital beds. Her mother seems content to appreciate the flowers, James to study every inch of the Prongs, Padfoot, Longclaw, and Moony miniatures. They glance at her frequently, however, and Helena smiles at them, oddly sheepish.

"I haven't got much to say this morning. It's been a pretty quiet week, all things considered, and I've more or less told you everything there is to know about me. Everything important, anyway. I thought I might read to you though? I suppose it gets boring in here."

Without waiting for a response that she'll not receive, Helena produces a battered copy of J.R.R Tolkien's 'The Hobbit', and with very little fanfare, she sets about introducing her parents to Bilbo Baggins and his band of merry fellows.

Excepting the occasional mouthful of water to quench her thirst, Helena isn't diverted from the story until her watch vibrates with an alert that visiting hours have just drawn to an end.

"That's me for today," she says to her parents, oddly regretful. They seem to have enjoyed her narration, and Helena's certainly enjoyed the reprieve from Grimmauld Place, but all good things must eventually come to an end, and if nothing else, Helena knows she'll be back next weekend, "I have to go. I'll be back soon."

Quickly, Helena presses a kiss to her father's cheek, and another one to her mother's, and then exits her parents' room before she can be chastised for overstaying her welcome, before she can feel guilty for leaving, before they realise what's going on. She closes the door to the private room behind her, spares a moment to collect herself, and then makes her way to the reception desk at the front of St Mungo's Janis Thickey ward.

"They've enjoyed your visits," Healer Pendleton says as Helena signs herself out, "You seem to settle them. It's difficult to say with any degree of certainty, but I believe there's a part of them that recognises you, so they are comforted to see you well."

"I'm glad I can give them that," Helena replies, her smile wistful. She'll never know her parents as the vibrant, extraordinary people they once were - or as the people they could have been - but it's been fourteen years, and Helena's done praying for a miracle, "It's the least I can do for them, I think."

"Most people do far less."

"I suppose," Helena concedes, "I'm glad I'm not like most people."

Healer Pendleton studies her thoughtfully. "I think we should all be glad for that, Lady Clayton."

Healer Pendleton excuses himself then, headed for his rounds, and Helena is left by the empty reception desk, bemused by his abrupt departure, and by the use of a title she generally doesn't expect to hear until she completes her Hogwarts education. She doesn't linger though, and instead returns to Grimmauld Place, directly into yet another terse disagreement between Emilyn and Mrs Weasley.

"Welcome back," Emilyn greets her, diverted by her arrival, "How was your visit?"

"As good as can be expected, I suppose," Helena replies, "Uneventful. I'm going to go to my room though. I'd like to be alone for a bit."

Helena's visits with her parents always leave her feeling bereft afterwards, though she doesn't cry as often as she used to. In that regard, nothing has changed with her change in address, though a houseful of people isn't exactly conducive to peace and quiet. Later, she'll talk to Sirius and Emilyn about moving her parents for the duration of the war - maybe to Peverell, or perhaps Linfred Castle - but in the meantime, she'd like to reflect over her visit, and that won't be accomplished between the feuding pair of Emilyn and Mrs Weasley.

"All right," Emilyn acquiesces, "Sirius and Remus aren't in, but I'll be here all day. Don't hesitate to call if you need me."

"All right," Helena acknowledges, "Thanks, Emilyn."

Emilyn tugs Helena into a hug before she is allowed to retreat to her room, and Helena soaks in the unconditional affection gratefully.

"Go on, then," Emilyn brushes a hand down Helena's braid, "Draw something amazing."

"I'll do what I can."

Helena acknowledges Mrs Weasley as she goes - eye contact, a polite nod, a brief smile - before she hightails it out of the basement kitchen, up a number of staircases, down the length of the family wing, and into the bedroom suite she's claimed as her own. Leo is in the heir's suite, of course, Nix is still in the nursery, Carina is still co-sleeping with her parents in the only other room occupied in the family wing, and as such, it is probably the most peaceful place the Order of the Phoenix headquarters has to offer.

Not for the first time, Helena longs - poignantly - for the private woodland of Blackthorn Park, for the quiet solitude of Peverell, for the craggy peaks surrounding Linfred Castle. She enjoys shopping, but she doesn't care for London, for its busy, smog-clogged streets and countless people, and Gods, but she wants to go home, to stay. Her brief visits - to train, to retrieve something, to enjoy a few hours of solace among the lawns, or gardens, or woodland - are never enough.

They'll never be enough.

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End Notes:

* Also known as Honeybuns, but I couldn't type that with a straight face if I tried.

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Author's Note: My hope with this chapter is that Helena comes off as naive, with the whole 'Helena likes to think she's grown as a person' thing. Could you let me know how it comes across? Was I on the mark? Was I not? How can I improve?

Thanks for your reviews. I'm stoked that people are interested. Sorry for the delay. I'm still stuck on Chapter Seven (I have been since before I posted Chapter One), but I've made some progress. When I haven't been swamped by assessment, that is. A couple weeks before semester is over though, so that's a relief.

Anyway, I've been living under a rock in recent weeks. Hope you're all taking care of yourselves. I can't imagine the world's gotten any less scary since I last heard/watched/looked at the news. Peace out, stay safe. Until next time, -t.