Chapter 21: Something to Celebrate
"NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO!"
Gawain sighed tiredly from his spot seated on the edge of his bed. Well, the meltdown was sure to come eventually. Though Gawain had optimistically thought Ella had outgrown the worse of her screaming crying fits, he had to admit, with the stress of everything they had been through, it was probably past due.
"I'm only going to be a few minutes, Ella. Honestly. I just want to go and give Harry a final check-up, and then I'll be right back."
"DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE HERE!"
"I'm not leaving you alone. You're Da's right here! And when I'm back, we'll all go down to breakfast together."
"I DON'T WANT BREAKFAST! I WANT TO GO HOME!"
"I know you do, sweetheart. We all do. And we will. But we have to make sure it's safe first. It's just taking a little longer than we thought it would. But it isn't so bad here! We're together and have a roof over our heads and food to eat and friends in the next room. Let's be grateful for what we have. I heard Amitra say she was going to make pancakes again this morning," Mary cajoled.
"I don't like Amitra's pancakes. I want drop scones the way Nan makes them. I WISH NAN WERE HERE!" Ella sobbed. She was lying face down on her bed. Gawain was having to infer half of her words through the crying and repeated burying of her face in her pillow.
But only partially distinguishable or not, the words cut through Gawain's heart plenty sharp. Mary had tears in her eyes. She took a moment to answer this, burying her face in her hands for a brief moment before returning to rub Ella's back soothingly. "I know, love. We all do."
"How about I just go and fetch Potter here?" Gawain asked Mary softly as Ella continued to sob on the bed. There was a throbbing in his temple. "Potter's always a distraction for her anyway. Two pixies with one jinx." In actuality, if Gawain was being honest with himself, he really just wanted an excuse to step away from the guilt riling his stomach and the cries piercing his skull. Mary was better at this sort of thing, anyway.
Mary nodded at him gratefully, then went back to comforting Ella who was currently moaning something incomprehensible into her pillow. Gawain let himself out, wondering vaguely if he should be offended that Ella seemed less perturbed by him leaving than Mary. Still, he was grateful for the quiet and solitude as he rubbed his temples out in the corridor. He sighed and moved off in the direction of the stairwell.
Gawain paused on the landing and glanced up the stairs toward the fourth floor. Even with reason to go upstairs, Gawain felt like a small child venturing into a forbidden realm. He shook his head at his own foolishness and began to climb the stairs.
His head was still pounding. The ache in his temple had progressed to a buzzing in his ears that just seemed to get worse and worse with every step. The repetitive pulsation in his ears was making him feel nauseous and dizzy, and he found himself wondering if he should just sit down there on the stairs and rest a minute.
He paused, supporting his weight on the bannister and rubbing at his face with his free hand. Merlin, he was cracking. A week and a half they had been trapped in this house. The stress was finally beginning to take its toll, and not just on Ella. He sighed and shook his head again before pulling himself up the last few steps. Maybe he'd have a bit of lie down rather than go down to breakfast. Once Mary got Ella calmed down and out of the room, anyway.
He rapped on the door to Potter's bedroom with three sharp taps. The sound was muffled through the buzzing in his ears. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for Potter to open his door and tried to pull himself together. There was a sheen of sweat across his forehead, and he felt cold and clammy.
Gawain blinked as the door was wrenched open more abruptly than he had expected. He had not heard anyone on the other end. Why was his brain feeling so fuzzy and confused? He saw Potter smile at him in greeting and the boy opened his mouth to say something. But his smile morphed in to a frown as he took in Gawain's face.
Potter's lips were moving, but no sound was reaching Gawain's ears. He stared at Potter uncomprehendingly. Part of his mind was trying to make out what Potter was saying, but another part was just trying to stop himself from being sick right there on the carpet at Potter's feet.
He was vaguely aware there were words coming from Potter's lips. But they were as clear to him as they would have been had he been sitting in a Muggle helicopter. A Muggle helicopter that was submerged in water. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head.
He felt Potter's hand grip his shoulder. He looked back up into Potter's face dazedly. The boy looked worried. Gawain still could not make out the words, but he realised Potter was guiding him across the threshold and sitting him down on the edge of his bed. Gawain's head fell into his hands as he leaned over, still trying not to retch.
What was wrong with him? This was no normal headache. This wasn't just stress. Something was wrong. Gawain had never been particularly prone to flights of hypochondria, but his mind was thinking of his father. He had died unexpectedly of a stroke when Gawain had been in Auror Academy. Was this what that felt like? Mary regularly checked his blood pressure and lectured him on genetic propensity and harped on him to eat healthy. Gawain mostly tuned her out.
But now he found himself wondering if this was it. Was he dying? Had he done enough to provide for her and Ella if he was? Merlin, could they manage through another loss? Was this what one was supposed to think about when one was dying?
Mary. He thought he heard her name. He looked up and realised Potter had said something about Mary. The lad seemed frozen in indecision halfway to the door. Gawain raised his hand and pressed his palm hard against his ear, shaking it in a hope of dislodging whatever was mussing with his hearing. It didn't work.
The action did, however, seem to make Potter's eyes widen in sudden horrified understanding, and the boy's lips mouthed an "Oh!"
As Gawain watched, Potter drew out his wand and, holding it aloft, Gawain saw him mouth the unmistakable words, "Finite Incatatum!"
And very abruptly, the buzzing was gone.
There was still the ache in Gawain's temple. But with a jarring suddenness, his hearing had returned. And with it, his mind cleared. The nausea receded. Gawain blinked and looked around the room dazedly, not really seeing it. Now that the buzzing was gone, even his own shaky breaths seemed loud.
"Better?" came Potter's voice. There seemed to be some trepidation in his tone. Gawain turned to look back at him, frowning.
"What…" Gawain said weakly as he struggled to calm his breath. "… A protective enchantment?" he asked after a moment to consider this.
"Er… yeah… Muffliato… Among other things…" Potter licked his lips as he studied Gawain apprehensively.
"Muffliato…?" Gawain repeated blankly.
"Oh, er, right. The buzzing." Potter pointed unnecessarily at his ears as Gawain continued to stare at him blankly. "It's a charm invented by Severus Snape to prevent eavesdroppers. And there were a few other repelling charms and the like too…"
There was a pause as Gawain took in this information. "I'm really sorry," Potter continued earnestly after a moment. "I should have realised what was happening sooner… People don't really come up here, you see…"
Gawain was staring around the room dully, still breathing hard. Then, without much deciding to do so, a laugh found his way to his lips. "Oh, Merlin. I really thought I was dying for a minute, there," he confessed with a dry chuckle and a shake of the head.
Potter had a funny look on his face. His lips were pressed together in a hard line. "Oh, go on then," Gawain said. "Go ahead and laugh."
And Potter did. He had the decency to rein it in quite quickly however. "I really am sorry," he said again, still chortling.
"Why the hell do you need this Muffliato Charm in your own house?" Gawain asked, shaking his head, though he felt a smile still turning up one corner of his mouth.
"Er… Habit, I suppose," said Potter awkwardly. "I dunno. For the past year, wherever we stopped for the night, we'd put up a bunch of protective enchantments. And I guess I never really fell out of the routine."
Gawain considered him for a moment. He suspected it was more than habit. For all that Potter was friendly with everyone in the house, Gawain suspected Potter didn't trust them all that far, really. But the lad was far too polite to say that to Gawain's face.
"Suppose I never really realised how uncomfortable that would be for someone who just happened to wander near," Potter continued scratching his head. The apologetic look was back as he surveyed Gawain.
Gawain just waved it off, shaking his head and looking around the room again. And this time, as his mind cleared, he actually saw it. "Wonder if you were in Gryffindor," he commented sarcastically, changing the subject.
Potter followed his eyed, then laughed embarrassedly. The entire room was decked out in rather ostentatious scarlet and gold. A red bedspread and curtains, lion banners across the ceiling, Gryffindor streamers at the window. "Yeah… It's actually all Sirius's. It was his room from when he was in school. I haven't had the heart to change it. Plus, half of the décor was put up with Permanent Sticking Charms. He was the only one in his family not to end up in Slytherin, and I suppose he must have enjoyed rubbing his parents' noses in it." He paused, looking around the room himself. "Reckon he quite liked being different."
As he listened, Gawain's eyes had fallen on the wall directly across from where he was still perched on the edge of the bed. Ella's drawing of Potter on a broomstick was spellotaped to the wall next to an old photograph of four teenaged boys. Gawain blinked at the drawing in surprise. It struck him as very odd that Potter would keep a home-made get-well-soon card from a seven-year-old he barely knew, much less post it on the wall of his bedroom. But it also struck Gawain as unexpectedly flattering. A feeling only slightly lessened by the fact that a little down the wall was a large faded poster of what appeared to be a bikini-clad Muggle girl posed sexily on a motorcycle.
Potter caught Gawain studying the drawing and flushed. But he continued what he had been saying. "I never much liked it."
"Liked what?" Gawain asked, eyes still distractedly on the picture by his daughter. "Gryffindor?"
"Oh, er… no… Being different. I never much liked being different."
The comment drew Gawain's attention back to Potter properly. He found himself frowning as he studied the boy who had saved the wizarding world and forever marked himself as 'different'.
Potter shifted awkwardly under his gaze. "Did you need me for something?" asked Potter, clearly attempting to break the silence that had followed his last words.
"Oh!" said Gawain, suddenly remembering why he had come up here in the first place. "Right. Mary. She was asking if you might stop by our bedroom before breakfast. She wanted to have a final check on your wound to make sure you're all healed up okay. Officially clear you for a return to normal activity." A small smile tugged his cheek. "I think Ben has been pestering her about when he can take you up on that offer for a sparring match."
Potter laughed easily. "How could I forget… Yeah, sure. I was just about to go down anyway."
Gawain grimaced a little. "Full disclosure? I also rather hoped you might be a good distraction for Ella. She's having a bit of a rough morning. Missing her nan, I think." He looked at Potter a little hesitantly and apologetically. This was perhaps asking too much of someone who had already given them far too much.
But Potter seemed to take it in stride. He merely looked at Gawain with sympathetic understanding and nodded. "Of course. She's been through a lot lately. Can't say I blame her. Oh! Ron just left me with a bag of sweets," he added looking around for said bag. "Mind if I offer her one?"
Gawain smiled. "She'll be thrilled. Mary rarely lets her eat much sugar."
Potter dumped the bag and fished through a collection of Liquorice Wands and Exploding Bonbons and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. "Does she have any favourites?" he asked.
"Chocolate Frogs are always a safe bet," Gawain supplied and Potter snatched one up on his recommendation. Potter gestured to the pile in offering and Gawain smiled as he helped himself to a Liquorice Wand for later. Together, they made for the door.
Out on the landing, Potter paused to spell his door shut with a tap of the wand which seemed almost second-nature.
Gawain turned back to watch him curiously, but was distracted from any further thought on the matter by some thumping and clattering coming from his left. He swivelling his gaze and realised the second door on the landing was open. Inside the cluttered room full of Black family artefacts, he saw Kreacher the House-elf feverishly polishing some sort of trophy and muttering under his breath. Gawain could only just make out the words.
"Trespassers invading the house, touching all of Master's things. Why he puts up with it, Kreacher will never understand. Should have sent them all packing right from the off. Oh, what would Mistress say if she knew? Fingerprints everywhere." He replaced the trophy on a shelf and picked up a vase and began his administrations on this instead. "And now up he comes, invading Master's private rooms. Nasty dirty Mudblood if ever Kreacher saw one…"
Gawain felt his gut wrench at the word. An image of Katherine flashed before his eyes, her body lying cold and lifeless on the floor, the hem of her jumper pulled up… But he forced it away reflexively. Gawain was not a pure-blood, but never had he been directly referred to as a Mudblood before. But by the standards of the Black family, Gawain supposed they were all Mudbloods.
Potter followed Gawain's gaze, took in Kreacher busy at his work, and just shook his head in exasperation. "Kreacher. You're talking aloud again," he called in a bored voice. "And you know I don't like that word. If you have such thoughts, please keep them to yourself." Then he sighed to Gawain, "Just ignore him. I always do." And he moved toward the stairs. Gawain followed him down, sparing one more glance for the House-elf who was glaring after him suspiciously.
"Harry!" Ella cried, when they entered the bedroom. Despite the redness of her eyes, her mood seemed immediately lighter as she flew across the room to give Potter a hug. Gawain caught the gold glint of the snitch ensnared in one tiny hand. Mary looked relieved and more than a little frazzled.
"Morning, Ella," replied Potter, returning her hug good-naturedly. "I have your dad's permission to spoil your breakfast," he informed her, tossing her the Chocolate Frog with a wink. Ella beamed and Mary just shook her head at Gawain in exasperation, though she too was smiling.
"Morning, Mary," Potter acknowledged her.
"Good morning. Thanks for coming, Harry. I just wanted a final look over your wound to make sure everything was healed up alright."
"No worries," said Potter. He gave a brief glance to see that Ella was busy working on the packaging of her Chocolate Frog over on the bed before unbuttoning his shirt.
"Any pain?" Mary asked as her long graceful fingers probed the scarred wound.
"Nah. Feels all healed up."
Mary glanced at him suspiciously before nodding. She pulled out her wand and began waving it in mysterious patterns over the wound. The outlines of his scar glowed and a faint shining blue pattern appeared over his abdomen. Gawain had no idea what she was doing, but it was all quite pretty, really.
Whatever Mary saw in the patterns must have satisfied her, because she nodded again and waved away the misty light. She then pulled out the funny whirling instrument Gawain had seen her with that first night. Potter seemed to recognise her intent with this, for he pulled up a sleeve and held out his left arm to her, palm up. She placed her wand tip in the crook of his elbow and pulled it away with another small drop of blood which she flicked into the tube on the instrument. It whizzed and beeped. Mary stared at the reading for a moment blank-faced. And Potter stared at her expectantly, clearly waiting for the official verdict.
Finally Mary looked back at him. She looked straight in his eyes sternly. "Poppy Pomfrey has warned me that you're sure to undo all my handiwork doing something foolish the minute I get you healed up. I do not want to see you under my wand again, Harry Potter."
Potter flushed slightly, and his one-sided grin crossed his lips. "Whatever Madam Pomfrey may have told you, I promise you, I don't do it on purpose." He was rebuttoning his shirt, looking quite pleased to be cleared to return to normal activity.
"Just try to take better care of yourself, won't you?" Mary said wryly, though a smile was crossing her lips too.
Potter opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a sudden squeal from Ella. "Ooh! Harry! I got your Chocolate Frog Card! Look!"
"Oh, bloody hell," Gawain heard Potter groan under his breath, too low for Ella to hear.
The curse narrowly missed Gawain's left ear as it whizzed by him after bouncing off Potter's Shield Charm. It hit the tapestry hanging on the wall behind him with a sizzle, leaving behind a scorch mark the size of a dinner plate.
Ben winced at the damage, but Potter merely grinned appreciatively. "Ooh! Nice one!" Then, in the same breath, he sent a stunner Ben's direction. Ben only just managed to deflect it in time. He was too easily distracted.
"Move your feet, Ben!" Gawain called to him across the room. They were, really, quite well-matched in their way. What advantage Ben had over Potter in more extensive formal training and spellwork, Potter more than made up for in instinct. He had good focus, and he ducked and parried with a coolness that made it seem almost second-nature.
Gawain also appreciated a certain physicality and athleticism to Potter's duelling style. He didn't rely solely on his wand. He weaved and dipped and moved, freeing his wand to focus on the offensive rather than the defensive. This was a skill that was not easy to teach. Gawain found himself wondering if it was a natural talent or if Potter had just been in so many situations where he had been forced to learn or die.
It was a bit of depressing thought, but not one Gawain had long to dwell on, as he had been forced to raise his wand to deflect another curse that had just come zooming in his direction. This would be much easier if they were back in the magical sparring ring in the Ministry.
Ben, who had again been distracted by this, glanced his way just as Potter's foot swept out and knocked his feet out from under him. Ben fell hard on his back, and his wand skittered away across the floor.
"Oh!" Potter cringed. "Sorry! Didn't mean to make you fall that hard." He reached out a hand and helped Ben to his feet.
Ben was still blinking as though not entirely sure what had just happened. "How… Damn. That was a good manoeuvre. Can you show me that?"
"Sure! If you show me that Scalding Hex. That was brilliant!"
Gawain was running a hand across his beard as he watched them from across the room. A small smile crossed his lips as Ben mimicked Potter as he dropped his weight onto one hand in slow motion, kicking out his right leg in a wide sweeping circle. They straightened and practiced it again, faster this time.
"I recognise that expression on your face," came a soft voice from behind him. Gawain looked around in surprise. He had not noticed Margaret watching from the doorway. She sidled up to him.
"Hmm?" Gawain asked.
She studied him, a teasing grin on her lips. "He's good, isn't he?" she said, rather than explain her meaning. Gawain didn't have to ask who she meant.
"Good instincts. A lot of natural talent, I think," Gawain agreed.
"Mm hm." She was looking between Potter and Gawain with an annoyingly knowing look.
"Out with it. What are you on about?"
Margaret laughed softly under her breath. "Oh, come off it, Gawain. You know what I mean. Ben's growing up. You can't play papa bear to him forever. You're going to have to let him move on eventually. And when he finally flies the nest, you're going to be looking for your new protégé. And someone with 'good instincts' and 'natural talent' like that…" she trailed off pointedly.
Gawain opened his mouth to deny it, then closed it again. A wry smile twisted his lips. Was he so easy to read? "Potter's never made any serious mention of becoming an Auror," Gawain argued, rather than acknowledge her speculations. "Applications to Auror Academy were postponed in all the chaos at Hogwarts and the delayed school exams. But they're due in less than a month. Haven't seen him making any moves in that direction." A part of him knew he was trying to temper his own expectations with these words. If he was honest with himself, Gawain knew he was hoping Potter would make this choice. But he would not be the one to influence him in a direction Potter was not sure he wanted to go. It was a tough career and if one wasn't passionate about it, it would burn one out entirely. Plus he didn't want to find himself disappointed should Potter decide it was not for him.
"Hmm," replied Margaret noncommittally. "Still… I doubt I'm the only one who's noticed he's taking all the NEWT exams needed to apply."
"One could do a lot of things with those particular NEWTs," Gawain replied reasonably.
Margaret studied him for a moment, clearly trying to gauge if Gawain really believed this. "Suppose," she said, noncommittally. Then looked back to watch Potter. He was coaching Ben through the manoeuver at full speed now, and the pair of them were huffing and sweating and laughing at the exertion.
Gawain looked to Margaret, wondering what she was thinking. "You don't think he's seen enough of war? Can't help but think he must be sick to tears of fighting."
"Maybe," replied Margaret, her eyes on Potter. But then she continued. "But I get the feeling he's never going to be quite satisfied. The feeling he's the type of person who never thinks he's done enough. Reckon those are the people who keep on fighting anyway."
The pair of them stood in companionable silence for a bit watching the two younger wizards in practice. Gawain considered these words and couldn't help but find them tragic in their truth. Potter and Ben had moved on to target practice, firing Scalding Hexes at names on the Black Family tapestry from across the room.
"Suppose we'll just have to see, won't we?"
A reluctant routine had settled into the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, whether they wanted it or no. The following afternoon found the Gang pouring over casefiles at the kitchen table. Potter was, as usual, seated a little way down, completely absorbed in the textbook in front of him—Herbology was the focus today, it seemed. Gawain felt a small quirk of his lips as he glanced over and saw Potter frowning at a passage in his book. He was holding his hands like they were pruning shears and mimicking the care for some plant that was not in fact there.
The fire flared, but Potter didn't seem to notice. He was still focused on his imaginary plant. When Kingsley greeted the newcomer with a, "Oh, hi, Ginny," however, Potter's head jerked up.
Ginny Weasley waved at the room at large as she danced out of the hearth and over to the kitchen door.
"Ginny?" said Potter, half rising to his feet. "Everything alright?" He clearly had not been expecting her, and he seemed to think she may not have seen him sitting at the table as she made her way in the direction of the hall. But she scarcely paid him any mind at all and was already out the door before he could say another word further.
Potter looked exceptionally confused and made to follow her just as the fire flared again. He looked back distractedly as this time Hermione Granger stepped out.
"Hello, all," said Granger as she crossed over to Potter who was still frozen in indecision halfway to the door. "Hey," she said to him.
"Hey…" he replied distractedly. "Ginny just…"
"Oh, don't worry about her. She's just gone up to decorate the drawing room."
"Decorate the—huh? Decorate for what?"
"For the belated birthday party we're throwing you tonight."
Potter stared at her, nonplussed. "Come again?"
"We've all decided we're throwing a party. Here. Tonight," Granger explained impatiently. "Ginny just came of age, and we didn't get to celebrate your birthday properly. So we've made up our minds to throw you and Ginny a joint birthday party." She said this with an air of impatience as though she really expected Potter to keep up better.
"Er…" replied Potter, clearly not at all impressed with this idea.
"It's all taken care of," Granger assured him, though Gawain doubted this was what was worrying Potter. "We all have our assignments. Ginny is on decorations—we told her she didn't have to do anything, seeing as it's her birthday, but she's so excited to be able to do magic now, she insisted. Ron and George are assembling entertainment and music. Bill and Fleur are taking care of drinks. Mrs. Weasley's been cooking since dawn…"
"And your job is…?" asked Potter with some trepidation.
"My job is to convince you to show up."
"Uh huh," Potter grunted cynically. "Convince me to show up to a party that is being thrown in my own house without my say," he summarised in an unenthusiastic tone. "And what happens if I don't want a birthday party? What happens if you fail at your job?" he asked.
"Oh, I won't," replied Granger confidently.
Potter merely raised an eyebrow in an expression that said quite plainly, wanna bet?
Granger pulled out a chair next to where Potter had been studying and Potter reluctantly resumed his seat with arms crossed across his chest. He looked at her both expectantly and forebodingly, but Granger seemed quite unfazed by this.
"Well. Obviously, seeing as it's you, I know any argument about how it's your birthday and you should have a day where you're showered with attention and gifts wasn't going to go over well. And I don't know that you much care that every year on your birthday, you'd either be at the Dursleys where we couldn't come to see you or the world would be in chaos so we couldn't do much. So then I thought maybe I would play it off like it's for all the people you have staying here—that they're bored and scared and tired and could use something to celebrate.
"But then I realised I really didn't need to focus so much on putting together a case for why you should let us have a party. Because I really already have an argument that is pretty much a sure-bet."
She paused expectantly and looked at Potter. He sighed and prompted reluctantly, "Which is…?"
A small satisfied smile crossed Granger's lips as she shrugged. "That it's the first thing I've seen Mrs. Weasley excited about all year."
There was quiet in the kitchen. The eyes of every member of the Gang were on Potter expectantly as they waited to see how he would respond to this. There was a moment while Potter considered this argument, staring back at Granger expressionlessly. Then, he sighed and his shoulders slowly slumped in resignation.
"Low blow, Hermione," Potter ground out at last.
Granger's lips twitched in another smile. "Yes, well. That's as may be. But I know you, and I know you're never going to say 'no' to that, so…" She got to her feet and began to move back toward the fire. "I suppose that's my job done. May as well go help Ron. See you tonight. Eight o'clock. Bye!" Her self-satisfied grin broadened in response to the wink from Kingsley as she passed him.
After she'd left, all eyes turned back to Potter. Most of the Gang were grinning unabashedly. Potter was still sitting where she left him, something of a disgruntled look on his face. When he glanced their way, he sighed and grumbled, "Oh, shut up. The lot of you."
And the whole Gang was laughing.
The inhabitants of Grimmauld Place began to congregate in the kitchen with some excitement that evening. Before she had left earlier that afternoon, they had been sternly told by Ginny Weasley not to enter the drawing room until eight o'clock. Now they gathered, waiting for the arrival of the rest of the guests.
News of the party had quickly spread, and everyone was glad of the diversion. Well, mostly everyone. Potter was still seated at the table with his nose in a textbook. That was, until Amitra reached over and closed the book in his face with the words, "Remind me. Whose birthday are we celebrating again?" Potter had glanced at her with a look that was somewhere between abashed and peeved, but he obliged by packing away his books.
Amitra was dressed to the nines in flowing magenta robes with a wide V-neck that accentuated her curvy figure and matching lipstick. Gawain wondered at how many different shades of lipstick she had managed to pack in the short minutes Potter had allotted her before they had Apparated to Grimmauld Place. As always, her many braids were artfully coiled around her head with not a strand out of place. Beside her, Margaret looked small and bedraggled in her usual shapeless robes, baggy trousers, and eyepatch. Gawain knew she was anything but small in Amitra's eyes, however; she was now adjusting Margaret's collar and staring into her face with an adoring smile on her brightly painted lips.
Everyone was dressed in their best today. This was not saying much, as none of them had more than a few changes of clothes and no one had packed anything suitable for a particularly elegant soiree. But they had all found their ways to mark the occasion. Mary had braided ribbons into Ella's plait, and she had let her own hair free from its usual practical knot at the nape of her neck so it fell in soft waves around her shoulders.
The room was positively buzzing in excitement for something new tonight. And the first arrival through the fireplace did not disappoint. For when the fire flared, out stepped one of the most beautiful women Gawain had ever seen. She tossed a curtain of silver-blond hair over her shoulder as she looked around the kitchen. Gawain recognised her as the girl Kingsley had teased Potter about from the Daily Prophet article, but she was older than in the photograph Gawain had seen and even more stunning in real life.
"Bonjour, tout le monde," she said to the gaping room, her voice was as musical as her movements as she danced off the hearth. It was then that she caught sight of Potter. "'Arry!"
The fire flared again as she crossed the room to Potter. This time, it produced the tall scarred man that Gawain had seen with Potter in Diagon Alley about a hundred years ago. "I do not know of what Rron was speaking," said the unearthly beautiful woman as she reached Potter. "You do not look so very 'orrible, I theenk." And she leaned over and kissed Potter on alternating cheeks three times. "Bon anniversaire."
"Thanks, Fleur," replied Potter only a little sarcastically.
"My wife. Always quick with the compliments," said the scarred man sardonically. He had set down a heavy looking crate on the table and reached out a hand to shake Potter's.
"Hey, Bill."
Bill Weasley glanced toward the fire, then pulled a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky from the crate. "Here. Your birthday gift. Hide it quick before Mum comes and accuses me of corrupting you." He winked.
Potter accepted the bottle with a grin. "Cheers, Bill. You corrupt me? I dragged your whole family into a war!" Nonetheless, Potter crossed to stash the bottle in the pantry hastily.
"And for the party we have pumpkin juice and Butterbeer and wine."
"I peeked out ze wine," Fleur said. "You Eenglish cannot be trusted to know a good wine from grape juice!"
The fire flared and out stepped George Weasley this time. Bill glanced his way, but was immediately distracted as he caught sight of Ben.
"Harrows! You don't say!" He circled the table, and he and Ben shook hands and slapped each other affectionately on the back. "I haven't seen you since school!"
"Weasley! I almost didn't recognise you!"
"Ah, well," replied Bill, running a hand across the scars of his face. "Run in with Fenrir Greyback. The War was not kind to me at times." But then he smiled at his wife and gestured for her to join them. "But other times, very kind indeed. This is my wife, Fleur. This is Ben Harrows."
"Enchanté," replied Fleur, eyeing Ben sceptically. Ben was gaping at her in return.
"Harrows and I were in school together," Bill explained. Gawain got the impression he was used to people gawking at his wife, but was still keen to keep the conversation moving. "He was the enemy, mind. Seeker for Hufflepuff opposite Charlie."
"Not a very good enemy," replied Ben. He was actually blushing as he addressed Fleur. "I seem to remember your brother kicking my arse every game. Damn, he was a good flyer; best I've ever seen. Still can't believe he didn't decide to play Quidditch professionally."
"You should have seen the bloke we found to replace him after he left school," commented George loudly as he joined them. "Great flyer, but had this annoying habit of being unconscious for half the games. What was his name again, Harry?"
"Oh, shut up," replied Potter. George and Bill sniggered at a private joke as Potter moved to the fire to greet Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley who had just come through.
"Charlie was sad he couldn't be here. He just headed back to Romania yesterday."
"So Mum's gonna be extra clingy tonight, heads up," George called in Potter's direction. Potter nodded in understanding, but was too busy being firmly hugged by Granger to reply.
"I thought I heard you had moved to Egypt or some such," Ben went on to Bill. "Working for Gringotts, wasn't it?"
"I did. Came home at the start of the War to be closer to my family. And to attempt to keep little brother over there out of trouble," he nodded in Potter's direction. "Not very successful on that score."
Potter, however, was not paying any attention to Bill's conversation. He had been chatting softly with Granger and was at that moment distracted by the arrival of Ginny Weasley. Potter's mouth had frozen on whatever words he had just been saying to Granger. Ginny was looking very pretty in a cobalt blue dress that contrasted pleasantly with her flaming hair as she stepped out of the fire. After a moment of complete distraction, Potter appeared to suddenly come back to himself. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly, clearly attempting to remember what he had just been saying. Gawain noted Ginny sharing a conspiratorial smile with Granger behind his back.
Gawain couldn't help but watch Potter's interaction with Ginny Weasley curiously from his place across the room. The pair smiled shyly at each other as they exchanged greetings. Ginny leaned in to hug him with an air of forced confidence, but Gawain thought he saw hesitancy behind the facade. Potter's form was stiff and awkward, and he broke out of the hug as quickly as he could. He then turned and engaged Ron in conversation. Ginny turned away, clearly trying to hide an expression of disappointment. Granger leaned in and whispered something in her ear which made her nod.
The kitchen was getting more and more crowded by the minute and was quickly becoming filled with greetings and conversation and cheer. By the time Arthur and Molly Weasley arrived with one more young red-haired man in horn-rimmed glasses, their arms all laden with bags of food, the party was well underway.
They moved up to the drawing room as a group, and the air was filled with 'Ooh's and 'Aah's as they walked in. Gawain felt his eyebrows go up.
Dark blue drapes had been hung along the walls to cover the hated tapestry and the room was lit by the ethereal light of hundreds of silvery fairy lights. The usual furniture had been pushed aside and small bistro tables in deep blue table cloths and tea lights were strategically placed around the room. A tiny silver stag glowed in the dim light as it galloped across the mantel; when it reached the edge, it reared up and turned back the other way. And above them, Gawain looked up to see the ceiling had been bewitched to look like a clear night sky, millions of stars shining down on them. The whole effect had to have taken some clever spellwork. Gawain was impressed. He glanced to Potter to see how he appreciated the décor and saw Potter watching the pacing stag with an almost forlorn smile on his face.
Music commenced and people mulled and mingled and chatted and laughed. And Gawain took up his usual role of quietly watching. The two House-elves had been persuaded to butler hors-d'oeuvres. Gawain heard mention that Kreacher was quite taken by Ginny Weasley and had only agreed because she had asked him. He'd also, heard, however, that Kreacher had flatly refused until he heard that Ninky had agreed. Now, watching as Kreacher was hastily cutting off Ninky whenever she approached a cluster of people with her tray, being sure they accepted his offerings instead, Gawain thought this second may be more accurate. When Ninky went to offer food to Hermione Granger, Gawain overheard Granger attempting to convince the elves to put down their trays and join them in the celebrations. Ninky looked completely horrified by this idea and Kreacher flatly ignored her and moved off to offer food to Ben and Bill who gratefully accepted them.
Gawain kept close to Mary; she was the better conversationalist, after all. Gawain always felt awkward and out of place at parties. Small talk had never been a strong suit. Ella and the Bones children were currently playing some sort of skipping game with George Weasley on the far side of the room.
As Mary and Gawain sidled around the room, Mary approached Brannagh, who was quietly watching the children at their game, smiling softly over the rim of a wine glass. "I must say, it's nice to have someone else taking charge of entertaining the Ella," Mary said conversationally to her. "I've been running out of ideas, being trapped in this house."
Brannagh laughed good-naturedly. Gawain realised he had never really heard her laugh. Perhaps the wine helped. "She is a rather precocious little thing, isn't she?"
"Sometimes I wish she was a little less clever," Mary admitted with a laugh.
"Well she's been extraordinarily resilient through all this. They all have been. Children are just remarkable, aren't they?" said Brannagh, looking back to the three children across the room. Gawain could not quite read her expression as she watched them playing.
Mary looked at her curiously, then asked, "You seem fond of children. Never thought to have any of your own?"
A brief pain flashed behind Brannagh's eyes. But then she forced a smile in Mary's direction. "We tried. Robert and I. A long time ago. I suppose some things just aren't meant to be." She looked back to Ella and Brandon and Maxim, and Gawain realised the expression he could not place was wistfulness.
"Oh." A hand came up to cover Mary's mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I should not have… I should have realised."
"Oh, no…" Brannagh hastened to assure her. "It's been a long time. We tried for several years. Then Robert decided he'd had enough trying. And that's when he accepted the job in New York." There was an awkward pause as no one quite knew how to respond to this. After a moment, Brannagh gave an awkward huff of laughter. "He was right, of course. At the time, I was terribly angry about it. But it was good for us in the end. Taking a step back. Makes you realise what's really important. In some ways I think the distance brought us closer than we've ever been." She took a sip of her wine, her expression pensive.
Mary's expression was kind and sympathetic. "Still must be hard. You must miss him terribly."
Brannagh smiled at her. "I do. But we still talk. And you know, sometimes I think long-distance is a wonderful thing. You get to know your partner in a different way. Deeper."
The pair chatted a little longer, their conversation turning to Ella and what she wanted to do when she was older. Gawain only half listened. He was wondering about Brannagh. She had always struck Gawain as such a private person. But suddenly, he was wondering if really it was just that no one ever bothered to ask.
A little while later, Brannagh had excused herself to gather a snack. Ella was now laughing and blushing as she danced to one of the Weird Sisters' slow numbers, perched on Potter's feet. There was some commotion by the door, and Gawain looked over to see newcomers to the party.
The woman who entered was tall with a stately bearing. She was a little older than Gawain, he thought, with light brown curls streaked with silver. She looked vaguely familiar, though Gawain could not place her. In her arms, she held a baby, perhaps four months of age. Gawain blinked. Was it the dim lighting, or was the baby's hair really blue?
"Andromeda! You made it!" cried Molly Weasley, making her way over to her. Ah. Yes. Tonks's mother. So the baby must be the Teddy he had heard mention of. And with that hair… could he be…? Gawain saw Potter extract himself from Ella. Ella giggled as he bowed to her comically low before he too crossed the room to embrace the newcomers.
After a brief one-armed hug, Andromeda passed the baby over to Potter who took him, smiling broadly. The baby promptly removed sticky fingers from his mouth and nearly jabbed Potter in the eye with them, but Potter caught hold of his tiny hand just in time. Potter and Andromeda were speaking softly with each other as Potter absently bounced the baby in his arms.
"Having a good time?" said a voice from behind Gawain. He turned and found Arthur Weasley had approached and was smiling pleasantly at him. "Nice to have a bit of time away from work, no?"
"Absolutely," said Gawain, though in truth, socialising somehow felt more like work to him than studying casefiles.
Arthur had followed his gaze over to Potter and the baby. He smiled fondly. "One of Harry's many hidden talents. Baby whisperer. Teddy just adores him."
"He's Tonks's child?" Gawain asked to clarify his suspicions. Tonks had stopped coming to work a year ago. By that point, her place in the Order of the Phoenix was well known. Gawain had merely supposed she had to keep a low profile in hiding. But now, doing the math, he supposed it had to have been around the time she had discovered herself to be pregnant.
Arthur eyed him sadly for a brief moment, then nodded. "Born just a few weeks before… before she died."
Mary let a breath out in a soft sad gasp. "And his father?"
Arthur turned his sorrowful eyes on her now. "Same. Battle of Hogwarts, both of them." Mary let out another sound of pain at that. And the three of them were lost in sad quiet thoughts for a moment.
"Why, Gawain Robards," came a cool voice. Gawain turned back and saw that Andromeda and Molly Weasley had approached them. Potter was now surrounded by people cooing over the baby still in his arms on the other side of the room. "It's been a long time," Andromeda said, holding out a hand to shake his.
"Mrs. Tonks," Gawain said, taking her hand. "It has. I don't think you know my wife, Mary."
"Oh, Molly," Arthur added. "I've been wanting to introduce you to Mary as well. You remember me telling you about her? She's the Healer who took care of Harry after he was injured."
Mary was just opening her mouth to greet both women, but before she could get out a single word, Molly's eyes widened in recognition, and she launched herself at Mary, enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh! Oh, Arthur's told me all about you. What would we have done if you'd not been here! We're so grateful…"
"Oh! No… I was glad to be here too." Mary broke off, looking part flattered, part embarrassed. "I've heard so much about you. Harry obviously thinks the world of you all."
Molly glanced up at her husband with a sad smile. "He's family," she said simply.
"He has a way of finding himself adopted into a lot of families, doesn't he?" added Andromeda, looking back over her shoulder. Potter was now seated on the floor, supporting Teddy as wobbly toddler legs attempted to bear some weight. There was a small huff of agreed laughter.
"Teddy's growing so fast," Molly commented, smiling fondly at the pair.
"He's rolling over on his own now. Sure he'll be crawling in no time. Dora was quick to be on the move, and I'm sure he's going to be the same. I'm not sure I'm ready to be chasing him all over the house!"
"Well, you know you can always call on us to babysit when you need a break," said Molly, squeezing Andromeda's arm. "Or his godfather," Molly added, slyly, looking back over her shoulder toward Potter and Teddy. "You know Harry would battle a chimera to help you both out."
"Potter… he's the child's godfather?" Gawain was suddenly understanding the jokes he had overhead from Kingsley about Teddy's godfather ages ago. Like he had been with Kingsley, Gawain felt shock at how close Tonks must have been to Potter without Gawain even knowing they had been acquainted.
Andromeda blinked at him, taking in his surprise. "Dora and her husband… They were both very fond of Harry. And I think they credited him for having found each other."
She looked back at Potter and Teddy and watched them sombrely for a moment. "I'm lucky of their choice, I think… Though I had my doubts at first. But it is not every teenage boy who would take the time to look in on a baby and an old lady like me. He comes to visit every few days. And he doesn't even shy away from changing dirty nappies. I found myself quite terrified when he didn't show up on his usual visit last week. Made me realise how much I've come to lean on him." A sad smile was twisting her lips as she watched Potter playing with her grandson.
There was silence for a moment. All five of them stood quietly watching Potter. Fleur had joined them and scooped up the baby into her arms and was cooing over him. Gawain suspected it would not be long before Potter had another little surrogate niece or nephew in his life. The baby began to fuss and cry and Fleur passed him back to Potter to sooth.
"Oh, he's getting tired. We really just came to say hello and happy birthday to Harry. We should be getting home," Andromeda said after a bit. "It's well past his bedtime. And I've only just gotten him into a decent sleep routine. I dread backsliding. I'm too old for sleepless nights…"
"Of course. You mustn't tire yourself out. You'll come to dinner next week, won't you?" asked Molly.
"Wouldn't miss it."
There were a number of goodbyes and a few hugs, and Mary and Gawain were left with the Weasley couple, watching as Andromeda crossed the room to collect Teddy. They all surveyed quietly as Potter kissed Teddy goodnight and accepted a hug and a few words from Andromeda.
"He does seem very good with children, Harry does," Mary commented, continuing the previous conversation. "He has our Ella completely in love with him, I think." She shared a teasing smile with Gawain. "And obviously little Teddy adores him."
Molly was also watching Potter. Her expression was a strange blend of beaming pride and immense sadness. "I think he sees himself in Teddy. Orphaned by war. He didn't have anyone to love him when he was growing up, poor dear. I think he wants to be sure that's never something Teddy has to go through."
"Come now, Molly," Arthur cut in hastily. "Be fair. I'm sure Harry's aunt and uncle love him very much… er… deep down."
Molly turned to her husband, eyes flashing. "Oh, honestly, Arthur. I don't know why you try to defend them. You know as well as I do, they never deserved him!"
Mary was looking between the pair of them with shocked and worried eyes as she took in this comment. "Molly… Harry wouldn't like…"
Molly let out a growl of frustration. "Because he doesn't like to make a fuss. But sometimes someone needs to make a fuss for him. Who else has he got to look out for him?" There were tears in Molly Weasleys eyes, but from her tone, Gawain was uncertain if they were tears of anger or grief. "He's family. And family… should… look out for each other…" She sniffed heartily.
But then she seemed to become abruptly distracted by something across the room. "George! George, what are you doing? That looks far too dangerous for the children!" And she was marching over to where George who had been playing with the Bones boys was suddenly looking shifty.
There was an awkward silence in her wake. Mary was looking back and forth between Arthur and Molly's retreating back, clearly wanting more information on that conversation topic. But Arthur merely shifted uncomfortably. "So sorry. Molly… she still finds it rather hard… being out in society. And she worries about Harry. We… we lost our son, F… Fred. At the Battle of Hogwarts. Seeing everyone together like this… I think it's even harder…"
Mary had covered her mouth with both hands, a look of horror in her eyes. "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea." Her eyes travelled to Ella who was now spinning in circles on the dance floor with Granger and Ron Weasley dancing together beside her and laughing at her antics. "I… I can't even begin to imagine losing a child…" she whispered through her fingers.
Arthur looked at her and gave her a grateful, if tragic, smile. "You're very kind," he said softly. "But you know… we've been lucky in lots of ways too… The Weasleys have a great deal to be thankful for. Not least for the day when Ron sat down in Harry Potter's compartment on the Hogwarts Express."
Arthur excused himself to the loo a little while later. And Mary resumed conversation with Brannagh. Gawain was pleased to see the two seemed to be hitting it off well. But he also was finding himself feeling increasingly awkward and out-of-place.
A sort of melancholy had descended upon him. Perhaps it was the taint to the conversation topic with the Weasleys. Or perhaps it was merely that his introvert hourglass had run out of sand and needed to be flipped over again. Deciding a few moments' break from the festivities were in order, he picked up a few empty Butterbeer bottles from atop various pieces of furniture. It was as good an excuse as any to go down to the kitchen and catch his breath in a quiet corner.
As he came down the final staircase, however, Gawain heard voices coming from the kitchen. He was apparently not the only one who had needed a break. He did not think much of it, and continued on his trek down the stairs.
"You know why…"
"Yes yes. I know why. Trouble is your 'why' is stupid."
"We've talked about this…"
"And I accepted it the first time last year when you had to leave. But you're back now. And times have changed."
"It's too risky—"
"I've told you: I don't care. I've accepted the risks."
"Well, I haven't."
"You can't make my decisions for me! God, you're such a hypocrite! You can't yell at Remus for leaving Tonks and then go and do exactly the same thing!"
It was at this moment that Gawain pushed the door open to the kitchen. And unfortunately also at this moment that he abruptly realised that this was a conversation he most definitely should not be walking in on.
"That was totally diff—" Potter cut off. His head turned sharply in Gawain's direction, as did Ginny Weasley's. Potter looked like a mooncalf in the wandlight. Ginny, however, just looked annoyed to be interrupted.
"Oh," said Gawain lamely, frozen by the door. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't mean to… interrupt." Ginny just raised an eyebrow with an expression that seemed to say, well you did. "I'll just…" He made to turn to leave the room. Then at the clink of glass against glass, he paused and looked down at the empty Butterbeer bottles in his hands.
"No. No, it's fine," said Potter. His voice sounded tired. "Come on in. We're done, anyway."
A pained look crossed over Ginny's face at those words as Gawain glanced uncertainly their way. Her hair swished as she sharply turned her glare back to Potter. There was a very brief silence, and her nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath. Then, "Yeah. I guess we are." And she turned on her heal, and marched in the direction of the fireplace.
Potter blinked stupidly at her for the breadth of a few steps, then his face screwed up in self-disgust. "Ginny… You know that's not what I meant…" he called after her.
As Ginny Weasley brushed past him, Gawain saw fury in her expression. But even through that, he also saw her struggling not to let tears fall. "Tell Mum and Dad I've gone home."
Potter pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. "Ginny. It's your birthday. Please stay—"
But Ginny had already tossed a pinch of Floo Powder into the fire and in a whoosh of green flames and red hair and blue dress, she was gone.
For a moment, Gawain kept his eyes on the point from which Ginny Weasley had vanished. Then slowly, he turned his gaze back toward Potter. Potter's eyes were closed as he massaged an apparent ache in his temple. After a moment, he drew in a deep breath and sighed. Then, at last, he opened his eyes and met Gawain's gaze.
"I'm really sorry…" Gawain began.
But Potter just shook his head wearily. "Believe me. That conversation wasn't going to end well, whether you walked in or not."
There was an awkward silence in which neither seemed to know what to say. Then Potter sighed again and muttered, "Guess I'll go back up."
And without looking Gawain in the eye, Potter rounded him and left the room. Gawain stood frozen by the door for a good few minutes, Butterbeer bottles still in hand.
A little while later, when he returned to the drawing room, Gawain cast a furtive glance in Potter's direction. He was standing next to his friends who were chatting merrily, but he did not seem to be taking part. His expression was dejected and distracted. And not long after that, Gawain saw him quietly move to the door and leave the room. No one else seemed to notice him go.
He did not come back down.
A/N (28.12.2021): I know it's been a while again. The real world has been… tough.
But I did want to take a moment to thank everyone who has taken the time to leave reviews and check in on me (especially the guest reviewers who I can't respond to directly). Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for being patient as I struggle my way through this complicated thing called life. Thank you for being something that I can always come back to, in good times and bad. Thank you for being there to offer support and kind words for my writing.
Wherever you are in this big world, whatever holidays you may be celebrating, I do want to wish you a Merry Everything. And let's hope that 2022 brings more happiness than 2021.
And do me a favour. Hug your parents tight. Because they are never with us for long enough.