"There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair an house, good things will strive to dwell with't."

---- Miranda, Act I, Scene II, The Tempest

THE TEMPEST

--- The House of Shylock ---

A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting brilliantly warm light over the current occupants of the House of Shylock. Though it was not quite winter, the autumn evenings were getting chillier by the night, and this ancient house's only heating system included firewood and an axe.

There were two armchairs set by the fireplace, and both of them were currently occupied, as was the rug on the floor. Two thin, greying dogs snoozed fitfully, feeling the peaceful content of the evening. They hardly raised a head when one of their masters lifted up his instrument and began to play. In the two years that they'd known him, they'd become quite accustomed to his loud ways…why, even in the still of the night he had to be off making some noise or another. Truth be told, of course, the soft and gentle melody he was fingering now was better than some.

He was a giant of a man, with the curliest head of hair a man ever saw, and the brawns and brain to match. He had large hands and even larger feet; sharp ears and wide, black eyes. He had a humongous torso that draped over his large armchair quite fittingly, and strong, muscular arms, most often seen swinging an axe, or lifting large crates, or wrestling men. The very arms, in fact, which had known the sheer force of labour, the two- hundred-pound burden, and the bone-breaking exertion of the Bristol Docks.

The two arms in particular which were now holding a small, quaint pan-flute.

In the other armchair, his sister never even looked up when a high tune reached her ears as his quick fingers danced across the little holes. True, she was more used to it than her two greyhounds were, having had to live with him much longer. But at this moment, not even havoc and chaos could rip her away from the delicious book in her hands.

They were certainly going to try, though.

A loud knock came at the door. The two dogs' heads came up as one and they stared at it, just as the man reached a trilling note. He cut off abruptly and looked at his sister in puzzlement. "Now who could that be?"

She tore her eyes away from her novel and met his gaze. "It…it's not Alonso or Claribel, is it?"

"I dunno," he answered. "I'll go see."

He set down his pan-flute with a sigh, staring at it wistfully before getting up. Sorry, Ariel. But I'll return…you'll have me finishing your lullaby soon. Patience, my dear, is a virtue.

He would have laughed at the idea of talking to such a silly object, had he not done it every day.

The front door banged again and he moved quickly around the armchair, his sister's dogs following him.

"Hang on, will you? I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Hector's first thought when the man opened the door was that Will had every right to be scared. The man was huge! Hector'd never seen another man as tall or as strong as this man before…besides one other being, that is, who --- for want of nicer terms --- seemed to have cheated humanity.

His second thought came after the man had looked at them all for a second, then beamed. 'Beamed' was exactly the right word for it, because he seemed to have stolen all the sun's light and stored it in that broad face of his, ready to let it all out on a moment's notice.

Then, just as the man opened his mouth to speak, Hector's third thought appeared, in the form of a warning.

I'd better plug my ears.

The next few minutes were harrowing ones. After he had given an uproarious shout, Sebastian --- Hector could only assume this was he --- gave them all a bone-crunching hug as he ushered them inside.

"By George!Rebecca, it's the Grangers'!" he shouted.

"I could only imagine," said a dry, female voice behind him. "Who else would have you vociferating like a gorilla?"

Rebecca entered the hall, and there was another round of hugging, though it was considerably less rowdy than before. The amazed expression never left Rebecca's pretty face as she moved through them all, even, to his surprise, Hector.

When she reached Will, his grin slid off, and he looked at her tentatively. For a minute, they just stared at each other. Then a sad, small smile appeared on her face. "Welcome back, Will," she said, and gave him a soft hug.

Hector had never been surrounded by a livelier group of people. They shouted, they laughed, they wrestled --- Sebastian winning every time, of course --- they joked, they bragged, they boasted, they argued…

These people have been apart far too long! he thought wryly.

In his arms, Neenie watched all with alarm. At first, she was frightened of Sebastian; when he came towards her, arms outspread, she screamed at him and buried her face in Pan's neck. This, of course, made Sebastian boom out with laughter, and he walked away, chuckling, "Always their first response…scare 'em all shitless, I do!"

Hermione's reaction to Rebecca, however, was far different. "She's purdy!" Neenie whispered to Pan, and he had to agree with her. Rebecca Shylock was young and beautiful, with violet eyes and the darkest hair. Unlike her brother's unruly curls, her raven locks fell straight down her back in the glossiest sheen. As she headed toward them, her eyes alight, Hector noticed that she danced, rather than walked.

"Oh, David!" she breathed, a hint of a Scottish accent in her voice. "She's got so big! And those big, brown eyes…they're to die for!" She brushed Neenie's hair away from her face. "Hullo, Neenie! Do you remember me? I'm your Aunt Rebecca!"

Hermione smiled back, shyly, "Hi, Becca!"

David came over to them and grinned at his daughter. "Oh, and this is Hector, Dad's new boat hand."

"Pandaemon Hector," he corrected, sticking out his hand to her. "But you can just call me Hector. These blockheads do."

She beamed. "Oh! So you know what they're good for, eh? It's a pleasure to meet you, Pandaemon Hector! I hope you turn out better than all these ones did!"

David laughed.

Hector looked closely at Rebecca. "You're a librarian, aren't you?"

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I am!" she said, beaming.

In his arms, Neenie squealed. "Doggies! Two doggies, Pan! Wants to pet them, pwease? Wants to bery much!"

"Pan?" Rebecca asked.

"Whatever works." Hector set Neenie on her feet, and the two dogs loped around her, barking enthusiastically and reaching over to lick the little girl's face. With both dogs trying to reach her at once, Neenie toppled over, shrieking and giggling at the same time.

"Trinculo! Stephano! Behave, boys. You don't want to be locked in the cellar again, do you?" Rebecca reprimanded. The dogs cowered before her, and resumed their play with Neenie more gently.

David gaped at her. "Trinculo and Stephano?"

"Yes, I named them after The Tempest, David, I'm not completely illiterate!" she said, a smile creeping on her face.

"I could never dream of mistaking you for such, my dear!" he said, and grinned as well. "Trinculo and Stephano…the Jester and the drunken Butler…"

Rebecca beamed with pleasure.

"Oy, Beck! What about that food, eh?" Sebastian roared across the room. "Chickens don't cook themselves, you know!"

"Ay!" she retorted. "One could tell just by looking at ye, Bass!" But she headed towards the kitchen just the same, a wistful look over her shoulder.

Grandfather caught on immediately. "Will! Why don' you join her? Lass could use help in the kitchen!"

His older son glared at him, then with a sharp nudge from David, he grimaced. "Er, yes…I…I think I'll do just that," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "I am an expert on messing up some gruel…in fact, some might call me a rival of Clement Snowe, himself!"

David snorted.

They watched as Will followed her into the kitchen, relieving her of a large pot. Sebastian leaned in close to Grandfather, "He's terrible, isn't he."

It wasn't a question.

"Depends on how you define 'terrible'. At age nine, 'e was decoratin' his own birthday cake and mistook pepper for sprinkles. When 'e was fifteen, 'e decided to make scrambled eggs for Christmas breakfas'. You know what 'e did then? Burnt the lot of 'em. Those eggs were as hard as bricks and as black as obsidian…thought we were having coal for breakfas'!"

Sebastian laughed, and Grandfather proceeded to tell him every single one of Will's cooking mishaps…something that took quite a while to tell, Hector soon discovered.

Will watched her as she got out the ingredients for her famous shepherd's pie. He had to ask her…he had to know…but she seemed determined not to look at him.

"Rebecca…" he began.

"Could you hand me the ground fennel and coriander from that cupboard, please?" she said, bustling around him.

He obliged, looking into her face. Her eyes were cast down and she seemed intent on the task at hand: peeling the potatoes.

Probably wishing they were me…never been scalped before, but it's got to be better than this silence…

"Rebecca…please say something," he said.

"And what is it you would like me to say, Will?" she snapped. "Pass the Kosher salt."

"Where is --- oh. Here." He handed it to her, then continued, frustrated. "I just…need to know what you're feeling. Are you mad at me? Do you want me to do something? I haven't --- we haven't talked for a year, Becca. How can I make that right?"

She pulled out a long, sharp knife from the drawer and started attacking the potatoes with a viciousness that made Will flinch. "You want the truth, Will?" she said savagely. "You really want to know what I'm feeling right now?"

Say no, say no, say no, say no…

"Yes."

"You asked for it," she said, turning on him, the knife still very much in her hand. "Needless to say, Will, I'm mad. But you know what? I'm not mad about that night! That is what is so hilarious! I'm not mad that you got drunk on our only date together. Or that you dragged me onto the stage in front of hundreds of people! I really couldn't care less that you shouted my name to England, along with the words 'love' and 'shag' and 'I'm going all the way with her tonight!'"

Will grimaced, her voice mimicking his slurred tone ringing in his ears. He couldn't remember much from that night, but what he could remember --- and what he read in the papers the morning after --- had not been pretty.

She continued on with her rant, slowly advancing on him. "I'm really not that mad, about that, Will! No…I know you were drunk when you said those things, and so, therefore, can't really account for them that much. I despise the way you kept lifting that bottle, driving you into that stupor, but once you were gone…you were gone."

Will could swear that everyone in the next room could hear her every word --- no, hang that. He was sure everyone across the Channel was straining his or her ears, closed door or no.

Rebecca continued, wrath alight in her every feature.

"The thing that really pisses me off, Will, is not what you did that night…it's what you did after! I tried ringing you. I tried writing you, to let you know in some form or another that I forgave you! That I really couldn't care less what the world thought of us! That they could write about me as much as they wanted to; that they could slander me, misuse me, foul me up! I didn't care! But when I needed you most, Will, you weren't bloody there!" she screamed.

And then Will understood. The fury in her eyes he'd seen earlier was just a mask, hiding the part of her that refused to be seen…especially by him.

"I can't believe I was actually worried when you didn't pick up, Will! Irang your work, they said you quit! Irang David, he said he hadn't seen you since you wrecked his car, and to be frank, he didn't give a rat's arse where you were! I called your neighbours, your landlord, your bar friends, the guy who cut your hair, the woman who cleaned your place, the guy you only hung out with on Thursdays, your grandfather, Will!I was frantic! For all I knew, you could have been dead! And now I wish you really were!"

Tears were streaming down her face now, and Will felt completely useless. He'd never heard any of this before, and it shocked him what she'd been through. But she wasn't done yet.

"After three months, Will, three months of searching, of thinking you were dead, I finally found someone who knew where you were." She broke off, the disgust in her voice clearly visible. "I don't suppose you'd remember Francine, now would you, Will? No…you've probably slept with all of London by now, how couldyou remember? But Francine remembered you, Will…oh, yes, she remembered you very well…right down to the Rebecca that you had tattooed on your chest, in fact!"

Oh, shit.

" 'Oh, shit' is quite right, Will." Her voice was low and dangerous, and Will didn't even have time to fathom her mind-reading abilities. He was bloody grateful she wasn't yelling now…but even if the men in the other room couldn't hear them now, the tone she was now using and the look in her eyes was deadly all by itself.

"She told me a number of things. Like what street your apartment was on, and how soft your bed was, and what your bloody pillow smelt like! And though I had been searching for you endlessly for three solid months, Will, at that point, I didn't care where you've been, what you were doing, who were you sleeping with. I didn't care that you were alive --- in fact, I remember hanging up the phone and cursing you to hell! All I wanted was to never see you again."

Will stared at her. He was frozen, he couldn't have moved even if he'd wanted to. He was astounded, shocked beyond all total belief at what she had said…but what shocked him most of all he didn't find in her voice. Her words shouted pure hatred, but her eyes were streaming with tears of lost hopelessness…and her next words made him realize why.

"I wanted to hate you, Will," she sobbed. "I wanted to hate you so much that it wasn't until you had walked in that door, with your father and brother beside you, that I realized I…I couldn't! I'd spent so much time loathing you that when I needed to hate you the most, I'd run all out of it! I couldn't hate any more! I wanted to be the one to bring you down in complete darkness, to show you what it felt like to lose your heart…but then I saw your face, and you looked as though I'd stolen your soul, and I couldn't help it, Will! I said those words…I smiled at you…I hugged you…and I realized that I forgave you! After all you'd done…to me, to your family…I realized that it didn't matter any more! All that mattered, really, was that you were here and that you wanted me!"

Will wasn't quite sure how it happened. All he knew was that he was holding her, she was clinging to him, and that knife had mercifully fallen to the floor. How could it be that after everything she'd said --- everything he'd done --- she was the one forgiving him? It was so wrong…but this feeling felt so right. And he never wanted to let go.

On the stove, the potatoes boiled unheeded.

Hermione finally disengaged herself from Stephano and Trinculo and headed directly for the bookshelf. As David went over to join her, Pan's attention was drawn to the flute on the arm of Sebastian's chair.

"Is this --- this isn't --- what I think it is…is it?" he asked, amazed.

Sebastain followed his gaze and grinned. "Yep, it's a pan-flute. They're quite uncommon, nowadays, you know."

"Yes, I know! Where'd you get her?"

"A…very old friend gave her to me a few years ago, and I've been playing her ever since," Sebastian said.

"Her?"

"I've christened her Ariel. She comes with me everywhere, Ariel does. We're the best of friends!"

"So this is what we heard on the way here," Hector said softly, fingering the gentle copper tones, the tiny holes, and the differently cut reeds.

"You can play her, if you like," Sebastian offered.

Pan raised Ariel to his lips, hesitated, and then blew. A beautiful tone flowed from her, a sweet and soft B. Everyone in the room turned to look as more tones joined the first.

He plays like a natural! Sebastian thought as he watched Hector play a small ditty, mouth moving up and down Ariel, blowing into the different holes. The boathand's face was changing from doubtful to peaceful.

Across the room, someone else was settling into the blissful content of the sound. She fingered the ancient tomes, with their faded golden lettering and thick pages.

"Be very careful, Neenie. These are very, very old and we don't want them to tear, do we?" David said softly, kneeling next to her.

"No," she whispered. "I's be bery careful, Daddy!"

Her face was alight with an odd glow David had only seen on her face in association to books. She caressed the spine of an old dictionary with a small finger. Then her hands touched each book in turn, as carefully as she could so as not to disrupt their heavy, dusty silence.

When her hands made their way up to the shelf above, they felt newer, bigger books. At her daddy's nod, she tried with all her might to tug one off the shelf. Onto the floor it tumbled, and opened to a page of colours. Hermione quickly lay down on her little tummy, staring at the pages, entranced.

David had seen the title as it fell – Maps of Great Britain and Its Surroundings. He chuckled and went to join the group of men. "That will keep her busy for a while…" he told them.

And it did.

After half an hour with the Shylocks' books, David finally managed to steer Neenie away and help him set the table. She carefully studied the silverware in her hands, then gravely separated the spoons, butter knives, and forks, placing the set of three beside each plate.

In almost no time at all, Will and Rebecca presented dinner with twin, satisfied smiles.

Sebastian eyed the shepherd's pie and chicken stew shrewdly. "You didn't poison this, did you?"

"Now, why would we poison you, Bass? You are placed so fondly in our hearts," his sister replied sweetly.

Sebastian took one glance at her and ever-so-politely pushed his plate away. "May I take a cheque?"

Rebecca chuckled. "You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. Does this mean you'll skip desserts as well and head straight up to bed like a good little boy?"

"Nay. You shall not have the pleasure of demeaning me, woman. I'll eat your detestable food, if it be my last!"

"Fat chance of that, you pig!"

The conversation took a more well-mannered turn after that, and while Grandfather, David, Hector, and Rebecca were otherwise engaged, Will leaned towards Sebastian.

"Who wants to bet a pound David touches the stew first?" he muttered.

"Why, d'you spike it?"

"Well if spikes include a half-cup of baking soda, then…yeah."

Sebastian chuckled. "Good way to spoil everyone's dinner, eh?"

"I---I didn't mean to! It just sort of…slipped."

At that second, David spewed out said stew, all over the table.

Will smirked. "One pound for me, then."

Baking Soda Stew aside, Hector felt quite full and comfortable when he leaned back in his chair. He felt a dog's head descend on his knee under the table, and he absent-mindedly rubbed it. Trinculo moaned in content.

"Who'd have thought that little Becky down the street could make such fine shepherd's pie?" Grandfather mused aloud, making Rebecca blush.

"Oh, I haven't been called that since I was twelve! But, seriously, sir, Cordelia's much better than I am in that regard! By the way, how is she, David?" she said.

"Wishing she were here," he answered ruefully. "But she says hello to everybody, and to tell you that she expects you to come visit her tomorrow! She said she needs female companionship…that she hates hanging around us male loons all the time."

"Did you talk to her, then?" Will asked, confused.

"Yeah, while you were busy banging that baking soda in the pot, actually. She knows not to expect us until quite late…of course, she had a few reminders for Neenie…making sure she gets to bed earlier than usual, and whatnot," David said.

"Incompetent husbands," Will muttered. "Glad I never was one!"

"Just wait, you cad. Sooner or later, you'll string a girl…and when you do, look out!" Grandfather said.

Rebecca slugged him.

"Ouch! Watch that arm, lass…I'm an old man, y'know!" he complained.

"And what makes you think he'll be the one stringing the girl? She might just be the one stringing him!" She smirked. "And 'old man' my nether parts! You could wrestle a shark and still win----"

"This from the mouth of babes!" Grandfather said proudly to his sons.

"----After, of course, you've convinced him to fake a good dying scene!"

Will and David roared with laughter at this, which unfortunately made their father target them next. "Yes, well, only a blundering fool wrestles a shark. A genius cons him with witticisms!" he said. "Besides, I raised these two fools, didn't I? An actor and a dentist! Must be good for something…"

"Actually, I was wondering about that. How is it, Will, that you managed to sink from being a free man…to a free man with a job description?" Rebecca teased.

Will looked affronted. "Pardon me, but is this an accusation? Must I make my way elsewhere?"

Rebecca laughed and shoved him playfully. "You once told me that actors were collywobble! That play-acting in front of some flimsy backdrop that looks like something off Monty Python's Flying Circus was just some feeble attempt at manhood, you rotten cur!"

"I do! It is! And I'll have you know that I quote Shakespeare in my plays, not Eric Idle, thank you very much!" he said. "Besides, being an actor isn't half as bad as Doctor Dentist over here. He wipes off candy stains for a living!"

"At least it's a profession!" David retorted. "All you have to do hike up your drawers and scream like a ninny!"

"Oi! I only played a girl that one time!" Will said over Rebecca's laughter.

"And you act like one normally the rest of the time! Didn't you play the title male character in Antony and Cleopatra?"

"Yes," Will grumbled.

"I rest my case."

Grandfather watched this interchange with obvious merriment. "Come now, William, old boy. Don't let him defeat you that easily!"

"I'm not defeated! I'm just resisting such entertainment until my enemy has more power, is all!"

"Oh, is poor Willy Nilly too embarrassed to admit he lost in front of a girl?" Rebecca cooed.

"No, actually, poor Willy Nilly is not!" he cooed back.

David just sighed in his chair and leaned back. "Ah…how I love victory!"

Across the room, Sebastian was wrapped up in his own victory. He had just succeeded in convincing Hermione to let him pick her up. She so wanted to see the "purdy birdy" that, at that point, she didn't care who held her.

In a large cage that stood at eye level on clawed feet, there was the biggest bird she'd ever seen. It was a livid green macaw, and almost as big as Neenie was herself. She shrunk back in Sebastian's arms as the parrot stretched her wings and cocked her head, staring Neenie in the eye.

That is…I think she is…this parrot's been blind since I first found her October before last. She could very well be staring at me.

As those white eyes stared into hers, Neenie lost all of her curiosity and whimpered. "Scary, Bass! Scary birdy! Wants down now, wants it bery much! Pwease?"

Sebastian chuckled, but did as she wanted. "There's nothing scary about Sycorax, Neenie! She just wants to be petted, see?"

He lifted the latch and stroked Sycorax's head. To Neenie's amazement, the monstrous bird made a soft growling noise in her throat at her master's touch and closed her eyes.

"Ooh! Like a kitty!" she squealed.

Sycorax's eyes popped open and she stared down at the small girl. Neenie shrank back against Sebastian's legs, before scooping up a handful of toddler courage and running over to her daddy. "Scary! Scary birdy, Daddy! I don't likes scary birdies! They's mean!" she wailed.

David picked her up and tried calming her. "Sshhh…there's nothing scary that can get Neenie now that Daddy's here. You trust Daddy, don't you?"

She hiccupped and nodded into his vest.

"And Daddy trusts his little queen to be a brave girl and say sorry to the birdy. She didn't mean to be mean, after all. And I bet that you looked mean to her, too, for running away like that."

"But Neenies aren't mean, Daddy! They's huggy and cuteses!" she pleaded.

"Why so they are! But birdy doesn't know that…why don't we go show her? Will you do that if Daddy's with you?" he asked the bundle in his arms.

"Yes, Daddy," she said. "I cans bery much!"

David sauntered over to the cage, and Neenie peeped out with curiosity once more. Birdies didn't mean to be scary, Daddy said. And this birdy thought she was scary! She giggled. Silly birdy!

"Hallo, birdy! Hallo, purdy birdy!" she murmured, trying to get Sycorax's head to come out from under her wing. "Neenies aren't scary, birdy. Neenies are huggy…are you huggy, too, birdy? Like Neenies are?"

Sebastian laughed at her. Sycorax lifted her head and peered at her with sightless, white eyes, but this time Neenie didn't shrink back. She turned to Sebastian. "Can I hugs her? Pwease, Bass? Pwease?"

"Nope. Sorry, tyke, but she wouldn't like it. Not everyone's as friendly as you, you know!"

Hermione pouted.

Meanwhile, over at the hearth, Will mimicked his niece's expression. Beside him, Hector and Rebecca were talking earnestly about children, and he felt…left out. It hadn't been so bad when Dad left, claiming about needing to take a leak, but Will'd now been trying to engage Rebecca in conversation for five minutes, and it wasn't working.

"…Yes, yes, I know. You see, I work at the village library, and you wouldn't believe how many times they've come up to me, clamouring for that series! It really helps children in reading at a more advanced level… it's so vivid in wording, and the characters are so precise and refreshing! I wish I could have had those books when I was younger!" Rebecca was saying.

"Oh, you're a librarian, Rebecca?" Will cut in.

"Yes, but didn't you know? Hector asked me that first thing when he came in. Said I had a look of 'distinct belles lettres' about me, didn't you, Pan?" she said fondly.

Great! Will scowled. Not only is she repeating his praise, but glowing from it as well! Not to mention the "Asked me that first thing when he came in" part…can you say "Will is a bloody idiot" in so many syllables?

Thankfully, at that moment, Grandfather, David, and Sebastian appeared with a proposition.

"We propose," David began, "That we all stop by the park before heading back to the boat----"

"Yacht."

"----Boat! All in favour please show by the uplifted right hand," David said. He counted five, including himself. Plus one left hand and one thumb in a mouth.

"Right then! The park it is! What d'ye say to that, Neenie?" Grandfather asked, tickling the girl in question.

She squealed, but didn't take her thumb out of her mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait just one horn-honking minute, now, would you? David. Didn't Cordelia say 'no parks'?" Will asked his brother.

"Will. There are six of us," David said, with an air of great patience. "That's more than enough to take care of any little Neenie-tyrants running around. What could possibly happen at the park?"

Author's Note: As David says, what could posibly happen at the park? I suppose we just won't find out until chapter ten, "Godric's Hollow". The evening is winding down to a close, my friends, and soon the Grangers and Shylocks must say goodbye and part...but must we?Just two more chapters to go until things start spewing over, and this next chapter will introduce a few people who I'm sure you'll recognize, however disguised they are.

Sorry you couldn't read this chapter on Wednesday, anyway. That's when I finished it and sent it to my beta, and then there I was, waiting two days for her to send it back, until I realized that my stupid computer never sent it to her at all, even though it said it did. So, although this is later than both you and I would have liked, it's what you get. Hope you enjoyed it. Care to tell me how much?