Chapter 9: Quarrels and Qualms
Gawain's sleep clouded mind felt Mary turn over in her sleep. He rolled to meet her, spooning against her and relishing in the feel of her bare skin against his. Sleepily, he ran a hand down her side from ribs to thigh and pulled her closer. She sighed softly.
Blinking his eyes open, he saw a beam of sunshine striking a sharp line across the room from a crack in the curtains. Rolling over, he retrieved his watch from the night table. He rubbed his face trying to get his old eyes to focus on the clock face. He groaned. It was time to get up. It had become rare that they could enjoy mornings like this one together. Sex in general had become rare, if he was being honest. The next-morning glow, rarer.
Brushing Mary's dark hair aside, he kissed the hollow under her ear. She sighed contentedly again and a small smile lifted the corner of her mouth, but she did not open her eyes. Gawain rolled out of bed and moved off to the shower and to the start of his day.
After a brisk rinse, he peaked out of the door of the en suite, toothbrush in his mouth and towel secured around his waist. Mary was just rising and stretching, still naked. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched her, appreciating the view. She caught his eye, and he raised his eyebrows at her, still grinning around his toothbrush. She rolled her eyes at him, but looked pleased as she crossed the room to retrieve her dressing gown. It was a common ritual between them. He turned back to the sink, laughing to himself.
"I'll go put the kettle on. Should I fry up some eggs for breakfast today?" she asked, looking at him through his reflection in the mirror as she tied the belt of her dressing gown snugly.
Gawain spit out the mouthful of toothpaste before responding. "Think I'll just have some toast."
"Sure. I think there's a tin of beans in the pantry, if you want. You should have some protein if you're off to the training gym."
"That sounds great."
She nodded before turning and plodding off in the direction of the kitchen.
Gawain rinsed his toothbrush and crossed the room to the wardrobe. Opening it, he scanned through for what he should wear today. It was a bit unnecessary. Most all of his clothes were similar. Simple practical robes in simple practical colours. Entirely dark colours and eighty percent in shades of grey or black. Mary often made fun of him for it and threatened to have Ella pick out some robes for him. Ella's favourite colour seemed to change from week to week, but currently, he believed, it was lilac. He shuddered to imagine what she would pick. So what if Gawain knew what he liked and he stuck with it?
He dressed quickly in a set of robes of which he was particularly fond— they were the perfect balance; tight enough to not catch on anything but loose enough to not restrict movement in the event of a fight. He snatched up some training closes to slip into his gym bag. Washed, dressed, and well-rested, he was in quite a good mood as he moved down the hall to the kitchen.
When he entered the kitchen, Mary was standing at the counter, her back to him. The kettle was whistling on the stove, but she had made no move to remove it from the heat. He plucked it up and filled the waiting teapot. A plate of toast was already on the table.
"Did you find those beans?" he asked, helping himself to a slice of toast and pad of butter. The chair screeched softly against the floor as scooted himself closer to the table.
Mary did not respond. He glanced over to her. She turned slowly and looked at him. He knew he was in trouble from her expression immediately. But exactly for what, he was less certain.
"Were you planning on telling me about this?" she asked. It was only then that he noticed the Daily Prophet in her hands. Right. Haversham. He'd completely forgotten. Well, shite. She held it out to him, wordlessly, her face hard.
He took the paper gingerly, like it was an erumpent horn that might explode at any moment. He didn't have to look hard to find out to what she was referring. The front page headline read boldly:
ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT AGAINST HARRY POTTER IN THE MININSTRY
Assailant in custody, Potter "unharmed"
And below it, was a large photo of Gawain tackling Potter to the ground just as the curse rebounded off of Potter's shield charm. Gawain's movements did not look any more graceful in the photo than they had felt in real time. Below the photo was a caption:
Head Auror, Gawain Robards, attempting to shield Potter from the attack.
Ministry declines comment on why only one Auror was present to protect the Chosen One.
A brief skim of the article confirmed Gawain's suspicions that Haversham had not taken any pains to make the Ministry look good. Repeatedly, he called out the Ministry for the lack of security. An entire paragraph was dedicated to Gawain, describing him as being too old and too washed-up to have been of any real use in the skirmish, pointing out that Potter had had to cast his own shield charm, and concluding that he, Gawain, would do better to keep to his desk or, better yet, consider retirement.
Gawain ground his teeth. Then remembered that Mary was still staring at him, awaiting an answer.
He glanced at her a sighed. "Sorry. Guess I forgot."
It was the wrong thing to say. He saw that the minute it was out of his mouth. But there was no taking it back.
Mary reared back, reminding him of a snake about to strike. "You forgot?" she repeated. "You just forgot that you escorted Harry Potter into the Ministry and Death Eaters were firing curses at you?"
"Oh, come on, now. It wasn't like that. This article is making it out to be something it wasn't. It was one pure-blood fanatic idiot trying to get his fifteen minutes of fame. He got off one curse and was immediately taken down by the Patrol, and I got Potter out of there." Abruptly, he recognised the irony that he had been so annoyed at Potter making light of what had happened back at the Ministry, yet now here he was doing the same to his wife. "And believe it or not, this," he shook the newspaper, "was not actually the most noteworthy thing to have happened yesterday."
"So glad to hear there are more things that were noteworthy you didn't tell me about," Mary snapped. Before he could respond to that, she changed gears. "I thought when you took that damn promotion to Head of the Auror Office, you were supposed to be off of field work! That you would be away from the front lines! You told me these stupid risks were over! That was the deal when we discussed that your hours would be longer."
"Escorting a visitor to the Ministry is hardly fieldwork," Gawain countered impatiently, tossing the newspaper onto the table.
"This wasn't just any visitor! This was Harry Potter! That's different, and you knew that when you agreed to it! But thank you for that clarification into the definition of 'fieldwork.' I'm sure it will come as a great deal of comfort to your daughter when I have to tell her that her father got himself killed in the line of duty, but it's okay because it was on Ministry property."
Gawain was annoyed. "What is this really about?" he asked, tedium evident in his voice. "That there was a curse fired my way, or that I didn't tell you that I had seen Harry Potter again. That I haven't been satiating your curiosity with gossip about some celebrity."
Mary's nostril's flared and she pulled in a breath. "Don't you dare." Her voice had turned soft and dangerous. "You know what that boy is to me. Don't make me out like some blathering fool wanting to read the latest celebrity gossip rag. I was one of the first people his mother told when she found out she was pregnant. I helped her set up his nursery. She referred to me as Auntie Mary. We talked of raising our families together. And then they went into hiding before he was even born. And I couldn't visit. I never even got to hold him. The only piece of his life I got to see was through pictures and letters. And then I had to learn about my best friend's death from the newspaper. I had to listen to people as they rejoiced and celebrated a night that left one of the most important people in the world to me dead and left her son shipped off where I would never see him. So don't you dare make this out like I'm the one being unreasonable."
"And I'm sorry for all that. Truly." Gawain ran a hand across his beard, exasperated. "I'm sure it was awful. But what does any of that have to do with my job and what happened yesterday? I have an obligation toward Ministry confidentiality, and you know that!"
"This," she snapped up the newspaper and brandished it at him, "is clearly not confidential. I'm not asking for top-secret Ministry matters. I'm asking you to tell me about your day and be honest about it."
"It's hardly inspiring to be up-front about my day when every time I am, you're angry about it!" Gawain countered, heatedly.
"I'm angry when you seem to go out of your way to seek out the most dangerous tasks to be had."
"That's my job!" The chair legs screeched on the tile floor as he rose to his feet. "What part of marrying an Auror has not lived up to your expectations?"
They were standing, facing each other, both of them inflating, drawing in breath for more argument. But before either could get in another word, a small cough sounded from the doorway. They both broke off and whipped to face it.
The one saving grace Gawain could think was that it was at least not Ella listening to them. It was a small comfort as his cheeks burned with shame and anger.
"Mam. Hi. Sorry. Didn't hear you come in," said Mary awkwardly, seeming to deflate. Her hand, which had been holding up the newspaper, dropped to her side limply.
"Nah, dinnae imagine yeh did over all that ruckus," offered Gwen. Her voice was light and cheery, but there was a sadness in her eyes.
"You're early this morning," Mary observed.
"Well, thought ah'd try an' catch our family celebrity afore he bolted off tae work." She smiled kindly at Gawain who found he could not quite meet her eye. "Hoped tae hear a braw story. But it would seem that's something of a sore subject."
Mary gave a laugh with no humour in it. Her eyes turned hard on Gawain as she responded to her mother. "Well, don't get your hopes too high for that story. To hear Gawain tell it, it was right boring. Forgettable, even." She tossed the newspaper, now rather crumpled, onto the table to annunciate the word.
Gawain sighed, all fight long gone. "Mary—" he started softly, but she cut him off.
"I have to get ready for work." And with that she marched out of the kitchen, Gwen stepping aside to let her pass on her way back to the bedroom.
Gawain stood awkwardly where he was in the middle of the kitchen. Toast and tea lay forgotten on the table. He fixed his eyes on the crumpled newspaper. He found this easier than looking at his mother-in-law, though he felt her eyes on him. His stomach was riling. Largely with anger, but there was also that annoying undercurrent of guilt, knowing that Mary had a point.
Neither Gwen nor Gawain spoke for a moment. He rubbed a hand over his eyes trying to clear his head. "I have to head into the office," he told her at last. "Ella's not up yet…"
But Gwen was not going to allow the switch in conversation so easily. Gawain found he loved her and hated her for this quality. Stubbornness seemed to be a family trait in the Macdonald women. "She's angry 'cause she cares, yeh ken?"
Gawain could only muster a sigh in response. Gwen came up and patted a hand on his cheek, making him look into her eyes. She looked up at him earnestly. There was no judgment in her gaze; only kindness and caring. "Tis when she's nae angry tae see yeh in danger… that's when yeh ken yeh have a problem." He let out a small huff of a laugh, fondness for his mother-in-law swelling his heart.
"How did you get to be so wise?"
"Once a Ravenclaw, always a Ravenclaw," Gwen chortled. "Well, that 'n thirty years o' marriage tae her faither, 'n learning from mah own mistakes." She smiled up at him, and he was surprised to find himself smiling back.
"So yeh heed an aud lady's advice, now. Go on off tae work 'n look at yer calendar. Finda day this weekend ye can tak a holiday without the office falling tae pieces. And plan a barry outing for the three o' yeh. All is like teh be forgiven."
Gawain sighed, but nodded, knowing she was right. "Whatever would I do without you, Gwen? My Macdonald women translator." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
"Ay, off with yeh!" she said, pretending to blush and waving him to the door. He laughed, paused just long enough to drain his teacup on the table, and then headed off to work.
"Protego!" Gawain cried, and the Stinging Jinx ricocheted off his shield with a burst of white light.
"I said, stop planting your feet! Tarantallegra!" Ben's feet began to dance wildly. Gawain's cheek twitched at his own joke, though he knew Ben was not appreciating it at the moment.
"Finite Incantatem!" Ben grumbled, pointing his wand to himself this time. Gawain gave him the courtesy of not firing off another jinx while he did. It was a courtesy he would not get from the Death Eaters.
"Incendio!" Ben cried, and a column of fire raced toward Gawain.
With scarcely a thought needed, Gawain met it with a Flame-Freezing Charm and enjoyed the warm breeze on his face. "You can do better than that," he called.
"Conjunctivus!" Ben cried, anger and frustration now evident in his eyes. Gawain dodged the curse, though narrowly. It sizzled where it hit the magical barrier containing the sparring ring. The barrier shimmered like ripples from a stone cast into a lake before it settled back to its usual calm silver sheen.
They were due up in the office shortly. It was time to move this along. "Fliipendo!" There was a loud bang and Gawain's spell hit Ben square in the chest. He went flying back, landing on a pile of mats just outside the barrier. His wand skittered from his grip, rolling across the floor. Ben lifted his head to watch it go, then dropped it back to the cushions, letting out a whoosh of breath in defeat. There was a smattering of claps from a few of the passers-by who had paused to watch them duelling on their way to the exercise equipment on the far side of the room.
Gawain crossed to Ben. Passing through the barrier surrounding the practice ring felt like walking through a thin sheet of water, only to emerge dry on the other side. Ben was still lying on the mats, staring at the ceiling and grinding his teeth. Gawain held out a hand to help Ben up. Ben sighed before taking it and allowing Gawain to wrench him up. Irritation was evident on Ben's face; he was not fond of losing.
"Move. Your. Feet." Gawain said, enunciating every word before releasing Ben's hand. "If you keep your feet planted in one spot, you're an easy target for every spell headed your way." Ben sighed in frustration, but nodded. Gawain clapped him on the back. "Your spellwork is good. But you have to remember your defensive manoeuvres as much as your offensive. They're just as important. Maybe more so."
After Ben retrieved his wand, they moved over to the water-cooler to help themselves to a drink. Gawain mopped some sweat off his brow as he glanced to his watch. They could spare a few minutes before they hit the showers and headed upstairs.
"Better luck next time, Ben" said Margaret who had come over from the treadmill to join them. She ran a towel across her face before reaching for a cup of water herself. The three of them sipped their water in silence for a moment, all catching their breath.
"How did Potter do all that?" Ben blurted out suddenly after a moment. Gawain just looked at him until he elaborated. "I mean. He's seventeen. He can't have had any formal combat training or anything. I was at Hogwarts not so very long ago. I sure never learned about all that there. I only learned how to duel in Auror Academy. So how is he so good at it all?"
"Suppose it's different for him," replied Margaret musingly. "Seems like he found himself on the wrong end of a wand quite a lot growing up. Expect he had no choice but to learn right quick. Probably had to go out of his way to do so."
Gawain was bored with this conversation already. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wouldn't it be nice to manage one day without talking about Harry bleeding Potter?" he muttered bitterly. The argument from the morning which he had mostly managed to forget while sparring with Ben came crashing back. Mary's words were still stinging him, far more effectively than any stinging hex Ben might have sent his way. Potter had brought nothing but complications since he had come into his life, and he was getting tired of it.
This seemed to distract Ben from his own petty competitiveness and Margaret from her contemplations of the boy's messy childhood. "What's got your wand in a knot?" asked Margaret.
"You don't like him?" Ben asked in surprise.
"Hardly the point if I like him," said Gawain, sighing. Logically, of course, Gawain knew his fight with Mary was not Potter's fault. But logic or no, right then, Gawain found he much preferred to blame Potter for it than to admit that perhaps he should have just told his wife about what had happened rather than let her read about it in the Daily Prophet.
He decided to voice the less petty but no less true reasoning. "It just seems so crazy that everyone is talking about him and won't just let him be. When clearly he wants none of this attention…"
"Well, both you and he should probably get used to it. I reckon most everyone is going to be talking about him for a good long while whether you want it or no," replied Margaret.
Ben was regarding him with a frown and a cock to his head that Gawain could not quite read. "Is this about the Daily Prophet article this morning?" he asked. Gawain felt a rumble escape his throat but said nothing.
"Oh, never you mind that rubbish," Margaret said. "I thought you looked very… gallant." What might have been a kind comment was marred by the pause before the last word and the clear struggle it was taking for her to keep a straight face. Gawain glared at her.
"Absolutely," Ben agreed. He was not even attempting a straight face but grinning broadly. "Gallantly 'washed-up,'" he snickered, quoting the article. "I particularly liked the part where they said… how did they word it? 'The Ministry's choice of guard, Robards, appears to be one step from retirement and two steps from the grave.'" Ben laughed and Margaret's struggles to maintain a straight face finally failed. She tried to cover it by turning away to adjust her eyepatch. Gawain was quite sure Ben had made a point to memorise that line and had just been waiting for this moment. Bloody hell, I'm forty-six, hardly the crypt-keeper!
Gawain's eyes narrowed as he opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, he was distracted by some commotion over by the door.
The three of them glanced over as a man entered and was immediately met with hails and a small throng of people giving handshakes and slaps on the back
"Well, look what the kneazle dragged in!" exclaimed Ben loudly enough to be heard across the room.
Sandeep Amin looked their way and smiled broadly. His straight white teeth contrasted brightly against his dark skin and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened as he crossed the room over to them.
"Harrows!" he cried jovially. Ben and Amin clapped hands, then pulled themselves into a hug, smacking each other on the back and laughing.
"Jenkyns. Robards," he greeted, shaking both Margaret's and Gawain's hands in turn. Gawain found himself smiling fondly, the troubles of the morning forgotten for the time being. He was suddenly realising how much he had missed Amin both professionally and personally.
As Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, Amin's absence this past year had left the Patrol in quite some chaos, completely lacking in reliable leadership. Commands had been coming from Death Eaters instead, and somehow, the aims of the Death Eaters had been something less than "protect and serve."
Amin had risen in the Patrols ranks quickly during his early career. At just thirty-four, he was the youngest Head of the Patrol in history and had managed to make himself indispensable in the short two years he had held the position before having to leave. The year had been rough without him. Gawain was glad that was over. But more than that, he truly just liked Amin. He was friendly and kind-hearted and quick with a smile and a joke when one needed it. Everyone liked Amin. Well, other than the Death Eaters, he supposed.
Amin had found himself with unwanted attention from the Death Eaters early on, and he'd had to make a quick escape when the Ministry had fallen last year. He and his wife had packed up and left the country just days after Scrimgeour had been murdered. Gawain and the others hadn't heard from him again until after the Battle of Hogwarts when he'd sent word that he would be returning. Still, Gawain hadn't known when to expect him.
"Damn, it's good to see you," Gawain said, still clasping Amin's forearm. It was only now that the weight was lifted that Gawain had realised how worried for him he'd been, never knowing if he was still alive.
"And you!" said Amin, patting Gawain's shoulder with his free hand. "Seems I missed some excitement this past year!" he said in his subtly musical accent.
"Hardly," said Ben, bitterly. "We've just been sitting around on our arses. Hard to get out to fight dark wizards when it's the dark wizards who are giving the orders." Gawain felt a flush of shame touch his cheeks.
"Yeah, new company culture. Let the seventeen year-old school children take care of it," added Margaret sardonically.
Amin glanced at all three of them in turn. Gawain shifted and swallowed, feeling the familiar sense of shame that had been riling his gut since the Battle of Hogwarts. Longer if he was honest with himself.
Amin smiled sympathetically, somehow seeming to take in this self-deprecating summary of the year immediately. "Yeah, well… In these crazy times, we do what we have to do to keep ourselves and our families alive to fight another day," he said kindly. "And hey. We're all here, trying to set things right now, aren't we?" Gawain felt a surge of gratitude, and saw Ben and Margaret smile appreciatively too. Not for the first time, Gawain found himself in awe of all the people who were so good at saying the right thing at the right time. It was a skill he most definitely lacked.
"And it definitely seems yesterday had its excitement," continued Amin, turning to Gawain and clapping him on the back with a grin. "Quite the article in the Daily Prophet this morning, Robards." He was clearly changing the subject, but Gawain was grateful for it. Even if it was to a different kind of painful subject, at least this one was painful only to Gawain and not to the others. He would accept this small act of altruism.
"We were just talking about that," offered Margaret, smiling knowingly at Gawain as, internally, he was fuming that he had thought he'd been spared from any further teasing on the subject when they had been distracted by Amin's arrival.
"That photo, mind," said Amin. His lips were pressed together tightly, clearly trying to hold back a laugh as he regarded Gawain. "I do have to say… didn't seem like one of your most graceful of manoeuvres."
Gawain sighed, accepting that this blasted article was going to be following him at home and work for a good long while. "In my defence, it turns out it's rather difficult to tackle someone out of the way of a curse when said person is simultaneously trying to tackle you out of the way." He absently ran a thumb over the split lip where he had broken it open on Potter's skull yesterday.
All three of his companions burst out laughing. "Is that what happened?" Amin said around chuckles. "Potter was trying to save you?"
"I mean, who does that?" said Gawain, voicing the ridiculous situation that had been bugging him since yesterday morning. He found he was glad to be talking of this to others in the field who would understand. "I was his protective detail. It's like he sets out to do the exact opposite of what I would expect him to do. What a weird kid."
"I dunno. Seems pretty on brand, after listening in to that crazy Wizengamot hearing, doesn't it?" commented Ben.
"You lot were there?" asked Amin, curiously.
"Just on guard duty," Gawain replied quickly. "Roslyn should be releasing a redacted copy of the transcript to the press by this evening," he added, looking at Ben pointedly. He was glad to see Ben glance away in shame and knew the comment had hit home before he could go shooting his mouth about what he had heard.
Amin caught the exchange and had the grace not to pry. "Well, I look forward to reading it. Can't say I'm not curious. Been seeing much of Potter, then have you?"
"Be careful," Margaret chortled. "Harry Potter is a touchy subject with Gawain, apparently."
Amin turned to Gawain, eyebrows raised. "Why? You don't like him?"
A growl escaped Gawain's throat. "Why is everyone so obsessed with whether or not I like Harry Potter? It's irrelevant. I was charged with getting him in and out of the Ministry alive, and I did that."
"Nah. He likes him," said Ben, smiling knowingly at Gawain. "I can tell. He just doesn't want to admit it because Potter's the first person Gawain's ever met that isn't intimidated by him when he's in stern-Head-Auror mode. Gawain doesn't know how to respond to that."
Margaret laughed. "Guess when you've duelled You-Know-Who, stern-Head-Auror isn't so scary by comparison," she agreed.
Gawain couldn't help a small embarrassed laugh as his friends teased him. Amin watched the exchange, smiling fondly. He clearly didn't understand all of this, but was still pleased to just be back and enjoying their banter.
"We should hit the showers and get back upstairs," Gawain said, glancing at his watch. "I need to get a briefing from the night shift before they leave."
"What convenient timing," replied Ben, rolling his eyes at Gawain's clear attempt at escape from this conversation. Gawain threw his empty water cup at him.
The afternoon found Gawain frowning at an owl he had received from the US Magical State Department, puzzling over it. The more he read it, the less it made sense. The wording was vague and over-inflated in the way all governmental documents were. The gist: His request for Travers's extradition had been denied. The reason: This is America, damn it; we don't need to give you a reason. Bloody hell, but he was sick of politics. What was it with the Americans always wanting something more? He hoped Roslyn and her husband were having more luck with it all.
A knock sounded on his office door, and he looked up, grateful for the excuse to put this frustrating piece of work aside for a bit. Sandeep Amin was standing in the open door.
"Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all, come on in." Gawain removed his feet from where they were propped on the desk and straightened up. "How's it feel being back at work?" he asked conversationally as Amin walked in and pulled up a chair.
Amin's eye widened as he bobbled his head back and forth with an expression that said he didn't even know where to begin. Gawain smiled. He had missed that head bobble. With it, Amin was capable of communicating a wide range of emotions. "It's all changed so much," he observed. "Everything's a right mess, isn't it? Shacklebolt has me overseeing a team to dismantle all the Surveillance Charms that were put up all over the Ministry. It's madness. The more I dig, the more of them I find. And they're everywhere. And so tightly spelled, I don't even know how to begin unravelling them."
"Welcome back," said Gawain, with a dry humour.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but… What the hell have you all been doing since I left?"
From anyone else, the comment may have been offensive. But Gawain just let out a laugh. "Believe me. However, bad it is now, it was a hell of a lot worse just a couple weeks ago."
"I can't imagine how…"
"Don't get me started," said Gawain with a sigh, rubbing his beard. "Muggle-borns were getting carted off to Azkaban. People were turning on co-workers— people they'd known and worked with for years. Sometimes, someone would just not come in to work. They'd never come back. And we'd sit here wondering— Are they dead? Did they flee the country? No way to know…"
Amin was just staring at him, shaking his head like he couldn't even imagine it. "You're probably too young to have been around much during the First War," Gawain observed.
"I was a teenager. Back in India. I heard stories, of course… But I was very removed. Was it worse this time?"
Gawain considered this question. He stared out at the bustling Aurors outside his office as he pondered. "Hard to say, to be honest. I was a different person the first time round. Young and enthusiastic. Excited by it all. Now…" he looked back at Amin and sighed. "Well, now, everything was just about keeping my head down to be sure my wife and daughter stayed safe." Gawain shrugged.
Amin's eyes were sad, but his face conveyed an understanding that until that moment Gawain had not realised he longed for. "How are Mary and Ella?" Amin asked.
"They're good. Mary's keeping busy at St. Mungo's. Very busy. Especially after the Battle of Hogwarts. And Ella just turned seven. Been a bit of a rough year for her, not being able to get out much to see her friends. But children are amazingly resilient, aren't they? How's Nayana?"
"She's well. Great, actually. We're expecting our first baby this September." Amin was barely containing the beaming excitement as he said this.
"That's fantastic news! Congratulations. Mary will be thrilled. I'm sure she would love to have you both over for dinner some time, when you're properly settled again. She's always looking for a way to make me eat more vegetarian food," he joked.
"Dinner sounds great. You know how I love Mary's healthy cooking. After a whole year in India with Nayana's parents, I am very ready to have a meal that is not made entirely from ghee and carbs." He prodded his stomach to accentuate the point. "I have no self-discipline when Sasu maa offers me second helpings." Gawain smiled. He had noticed Amin was looking a little softer than when he had left.
"Anyway," Amin said, changing the subject to graciously remove any obligation for Gawain to comment. "I actually came up here because Shacklebolt sent me."
"Oh?" said Gawain, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah, just had a meeting with him to get up to speed. He said he wants to set up a regular meeting schedule for us to run through the evidence collected for each of the upcoming trials. To make sure we have a strong case for each. He said, with all the Surveillance Charms in place, he wants to do it where he's sure we can't be overheard by anyone seeking to dismantle the cases. He asked if you could Side-Along Apparate me to some secure location the first time. Said you would know what that meant." Amin was squinting at Gawain, trying to read if this was making more sense to Gawain than it was making to Amin.
"I do. And yes, I can take you," replied Gawain, evenly, offering no further information.
"He said to tell you that he would take Roslyn and Jenkyns and meet us there. Wants to start tomorrow evening at five o'clock. And every Monday and Wednesday going forward." Mary is just going to love this, Gawain thought wryly, already anticipating many a late night pouring over casefiles in Potter's kitchen.
Gawain just nodded, showing Amin he understood. Amin frowned at him for a moment in silence, considering him. "Very cloak and daggers, all this, isn't it?" he said at last.
Gawain let out a humourless laugh. "As I said. Welcome back."
It was with some trepidation that Gawain returned home that evening. When he looked into the kitchen, Mary was stirring a pot on the stove. She glanced up at him as he entered. They both looked at each other apprehensively for a moment, neither saying a word. Then she went back to cooking.
"Hi," Gawain said, lamely after a moment. He moved into the room from the doorway.
"Hi," replied Mary as she lifted a spoon from the pot to taste the contents. She winced and reached for the salt. Gawain, meanwhile, found himself wincing at the coldness in her voice.
He stood awkwardly for a moment, not sure what to do or say. "Smells good," he commented as she kept her attention on the pot.
"Pea soup," said Mary shortly. "It's almost ready. Why don't you go call Ella to tea." The cowardly part of Gawain was all too happy to leave the frigid atmosphere in the kitchen and go in search of Ella.
Ella chattered away as they tucked in to their soup, seeming quite oblivious to the cold silence from the adults at the table. She was prattling all about how she was due to finish her Primary Two curriculum that week and just had two final assignments to complete. Gawain was only listening with one ear. His eyes were on Mary who sat across the table, not looking at Gawain and not saying anything.
"What's that?" Gawain asked, catching something Ella had said and looking back to her distractedly.
"You said you'd buy me a racing broom when I finished!" Abruptly, Gawain realised that what he had taken as chatter about homework had actually been Ella presenting an argument as to why she deserved a new broomstick.
"Did I?" Gawain racked his brain, trying to remember if he had indeed promised this or if Ella had just made that up. It vaguely ringed a bell that he may have said something of the sort last year when she had asked to upgrade off her training broom. Yes, he thought he remembered discussing it with Mary and agreeing it could be a reward for finishing her schoolwork. Mary finally looked at Gawain, making no move to help him here, merely watching to see how he would respond to this request.
"Da'! You promised!" Ella whined.
Whether or not she made it up, Ella was in luck that this aligned with the vaguely formulated plan he had been struggling to come up with all day. So he decided to go along with it. Why shouldn't Ella get a proper broomstick? She was old enough now for something that went higher than a metre off the ground. And he'd been trying to think up a good outing for them.
"Well, as it so happens, I was going to ask my two favourite ladies if they wanted to go to Diagon Alley this Saturday. Have a nice lunch date. And a browse of Flourish and Blotts." He smiled at Ella. "With, of course, a stop at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Assuming you finish your studies, that is."
Ella's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Really? I can have one? Really?" Ella squealed in delight. Then promptly leapt from the table to wrap her arms around Gawain's neck in a hug. She then deserted her dinner to race in circles around the kitchen in kind of war dance chanting, "He said yes! He said yes!"
Gawain laughed, then turned to look at Mary. She was looking at him with a very odd look he could not read. He frowned, the smile sliding from his face. Was she angry? Was she seeing this as him buying Ella's love? No. She didn't look angry. More… disappointed?
"This Saturday?" she asked.
"Yes. Is that a problem?" he asked, puzzled.
"I just… I thought you would be working this weekend."
Gawain shrugged. "I took the day off. I wanted to have a holiday with you and Ella," he said. She looked down at her bowl, still looking upset. Gawain sighed. Ella was still dancing around, not paying them any heed. "What have I done now?" he asked, exasperated, picking at his soup disgruntledly. Why could he never do anything right?
Mary looked back at him quickly, an apologetic look in her eyes. "No! Oh, no, Gawain. It's a wonderful idea. Really."
"So what's the problem?"
Mary bit her lower lip and shook her head. "It's just… I thought you were working. And Healer Smethwyck… his cousin died. So I said I would cover his shift, so he could go to the funeral. This Saturday. So I'm going to be working." She looked at him, sympathetically. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known…"
This was enough to break through Ella's elation. She stopped her dancing and chanting and looked between her parents, suddenly looking worried that this would mean she couldn't get a racing broom.
Gawain was surprised by the feeling of disappointment he felt. He had mostly formulated the idea for this outing on the fly, but in just the short few minutes, he had already found himself quite excited about it. And he'd already requested the day off, something that was hard enough to secure with all the chaos at work.
"Oh, but you two should still go!" Mary insisted, seeing the disappointment on both Gawain and Ella's faces. "It will be great. You'll have a lovely time, just the two of you."
"You can't come?" Ella said sadly.
"Next time, love. But listen." She reached over and tucked Ella's hair behind her ear. "I need a new quill. Why don't you pick me out one while you're in Diagon Alley. You know I can't ask your father. He'll pick out the most boring simple black one. I know I can trust you to pick out something pretty for me."
Ella was suddenly grinning. "Yeah! I'll make sure Da' doesn't get a boring one!" And then she was back to her excited dancing.
Gawain smiled as he watched her, still a little disappointed. He glanced at Mary who had been scrutinising him. She had a sad smile on her lips. She nodded once to him. Gawain smiled back. It was enough.
Ella had taken her dancing into the sitting room, and he could hear her chanting still from here. "He said yes! He said yes!" Merlin, but it was going to be a nightmare getting Ella to wind down for bed tonight.
A/N (22.02.2021): Sorry for another slow filler chapter… Boring to write and I imagine boring to read. But I need you to know a few characters a bit better before I can really move the plot forward. It's coming. I promise! Stay with me!
Also, anyone else seeing parallels between Wizarding War life and COVID life? Some of this felt too real...