Note: A shorter chapter...because I'm lazy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
19: Fire
Cleopatra Clancy took a generous gulp of clear liquid from the glass tumbler in her hand, before peering over the top of the glass at the girl sat in the armchair by the window.
"So," she said, shifting awkwardly upon the sofa in an attempt to sit upright, narrowly avoiding spilling gin and tonic down her front. "Kid's having a kid...!"
Pandora Lupin said nothing. At her silence, her mother's best friend muttered:
"Bloody hell..."
"Are you drunk, Auntie Cleo?" Pandora asked as Cleo lurched forwards to snatch a bottle up from the coffee table, and in response the adult gave a huff of laughter.
"Why? Is that against Mum's rules too?" she asked, brow crinkling at the thought of the numerous rules and conditions for Pandora's stay that Carrie had listed some two and a half hours earlier, making the whole process seem like some sort of prison sentence...for Cleo more than anyone, Cleo had thought.
Pandora shrugged. Cleo thought she looked far too disapproving than any person under the age of seventy had a right to look. She'd obviously inherited this from Carrie, which only made the whole thing infinitely worse.
Cleo's frown deepened.
"I love your mum dearly, you know," she told the girl wearily, "but she's a bloody pain in the arse, you know? She's just so...you know..."
Pandora wasn't sure that she did know.
"...she never approves of anything I do, you know?" Cleo went on, waving a hand vaguely in explanation, prompting Pandora to wonder:
"What have you done, then?"
Cleo's expression grew instantly incredulous.
"Nothing!" she exclaimed, eyes widening madly. "God! You ought to be more careful, kid! You're starting to sound just like her!"
Pandora's mind boggled.
She suspected Cleo was lying, which was mind-boggling in itself.
Cleo Clancy had been a well-loved and altogether eccentric fixture of Pandora's world since the girl had been born. Pandora liked to think she understood eccentrics, after all her grandmother just so happened to be a rampant eccentric herself. But even Dora failed to quite live up to Cleo's wackiness, after all Pandora was pretty sure Cleo had been born eccentric, Dora was merely a product of a series of wayward life events.
Despite being an altogether rather odd individual, Crazy Auntie Cleo was remarkably straightforward. She spoke her mind. Frequently. Her view of the world was no doubt different from everybody else's, but at least she presented her views in a frank and simple fashion.
She was inherently honest, in Pandora's experience most eccentric people were like this because they were not bound by the restraints of conforming to what other people expected. What other reason was there for lying, other than to cover up a lack of conformity? Pandora wished she had the guts to be as individual as Cleo was, and for this reason Cleo was something of a hero.
She swore habitually as if it were simply a part of her accent and was entirely unapologetic about it. Despite this she had the sense to scold Pandora and Imogen if she ever heard them utter a single rude word. Similarly, she had wandered through her years of education paying the business of learning the minimum amount of attention she could get away with, had left college with mediocre grades, but knew perfectly well how to tell her friend's children just how important it was to be educated. It was this ability to understand the values and expectations of the society she lived on the very edge of that made Cleo a survivor. And she survived well, Pandora thought. She was self-employed, made a reasonable living as a landscape gardener and was fiercely independent. She had no interest in getting married or even falling in love, she was entirely in charge of her own life and despite having spent most of her time being criticised and generally worried about by her family and friends, she was happy and her life was a success. People laughed at her, indeed sometimes Pandora laughed at her, but she didn't care. She was a hero, Pandora had no doubt about that.
To catch her lying, therefore, was...unsettling...
"What happened, eh?" Cleo wondered as she refilled her glass. "I thought you were the sensible one."
"I bet your parents thought your sister was the sensible one too." Pandora mumbled miserably, sinking back in her seat. The dreadful headline of that evening's newspaper had sucked all the fight from her, she knew deep down that Cleo meant nothing much by her observation, but it stung nevertheless.
Cleo gave a snort.
"I doubt it." she said as she set the bottle back down upon the table. "Bowie wouldn't know sense if it walked up and wrote 'idiot' across her forehead in bright red lipstick. My parents knew she was an idiot. That's because all girls are idiots. They're all dumb enough to go and get themselves knocked up, you know?"
"Even you?" Pandora wondered doubtfully, and Cleo gave a lopsided shrug.
"Who knows, kid!" she said, laughing much too loudly. "No boy would've shagged a girl like me if he could see past the end of his nose! I wasn't interested in boys when I was your age. But if I had been who knows what I might've gotten up to, you know?"
Pandora examined her socks with a deep and desperate interest.
"How're Mum and Dad, then?" Cleo wondered, and Pandora knew this was not an inquiry about her parents' wellbeing.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"That good, then?" Cleo puffed her cheeks as Pandora scowled at her socks. "Well love's always a bit crap like that, you know. Especially when you try and explain it to somebody like your mum!"
"I don't think love had a whole lot to do with it..." Pandora mumbled, humiliated at herself, and Cleo laughed again and asked:
"She tell you that, did she? I can just imagine!"
Pandora's gaze shot up to eye Cleo warily.
"Have you and Mum had a row or something?"
"What? No, 'course not!"
"Well you seem...annoyed with her..."
"Me? Nah, don't be silly! I'm just saying, your mum's understanding of love and whatnot is a bit bloody limited! And she isn't half judgemental about it all sometimes! I mean take me, for example...the way she looks at me...!"
"I...I don't think Mum looks at you like anything, Auntie Cleo." Pandora said, bemused. She wondered what Carrie had said to Cleo before leaving the house some while earlier whilst Pandora had been upstairs in he spare room unpacking her things. They had seemed perfectly happy to see one another as far as Pandora could tell...
Cleo let out an odd hiccup that sounded almost like a sob.
Pandora leant forward in her chair, squinting at the woman through the dim light of the room.
"Are...are you alright, Auntie?" she asked hesitantly, only to jump when Cleo gasped in a furious breath before exclaimed:
"She looks at me like it all the bloody time! Ever since I said I wasn't going to bloody marry bloody Craig and...and I can just tell she thinks I'm some sort of...of bloody freak! Well what the hell does she know anyway?! With her...her perfect husband with his bloody perfect job and nice fat paycheque, sat in their nice big house with their bloody perfect kids! What the bloody hell does she know about...about the real world?! She lives in some sort of...of fairytale! She'd not've lasted a bloody second in the real world, you know, if Ted hadn't bloody taken a shine to her!"
As Pandora's mouth simply dropped open, Cleo abruptly clamped a hand over her own mouth to shut herself up.
There was ringing silence.
After a minute, Pandora managed to close her mouth.
Cleo appeared to be trembling. Eventually she let her hand fall into her lap, reaching to abandon her half-empty glass upon the table in front of her.
"I er..." she said, reaching to scratch the back of her neck self-consciously. "I er...I am drunk, yes..."
When Pandora merely continued to stare at her, Cleo was forced to insist:
"I didn't really mean it like...like that, Pandora. All I meant was...well..."
"My mum never has a bad word to say about you." Pandora interrupted icily.
"D...doesn't she?"
"No. Everyone else has a good moan about you and Mum says they might be right but! There's always a but! But your heart's in the right place, but you mean well, but you're one of the kindest and most decent people she's ever met! She thinks a whole lot of you, even if you think sod all of her!"
Cleo's cheeks positively burned, and it had little if nothing to do with the alcohol.
"That's...that's not true, Pan." she mumbled, hands twisting awkwardly in her lap. "I might moan about her once in a while but you're mum's the very best friend I've ever had...and I've not had all that many 'cause nobody's much interested in having a friend like me. I do buts too, see?"
Pandora turned to stare at the blank television screen upon the opposite wall, and Cleo sighed heavily.
"We're all muddled, messy and misguided people, you know?" she said dully, slumping back in her seat. "Prime examples, you and me! We say stupid things...do stupid things! But that's alright, you know, just as long as we can pick ourselves up off the floor afterwards. Do that and we might just get through this life with a shred of dignity and a whole lot of pride..."
Pandora found herself hoping that Cleo was right, that she might have the chance for some shred of redemption because right now things were simply looking too bleak for words...
"There's...people...saying a...a whole lot of...of awful things about me..." she confessed miserably, feeling tears beginning to prickle at her eyes. "And...and there are no...no buts, Auntie Cleo!"
"Yeah?" Cleo gave a disregarding huff as if this were the sort of thing that happened to her all the time. Pandora wondered if the frizzy haired woman would still huff if she were to have her most shameful secrets splashed mercilessly across the front page of a national newspaper...
"Well sod them!" Cleo declared, ignoring her half-drunk drink in favour of snatching up the bottle instead. "Sod the lot of them, Pandora, they don't know a bloody thing about what it's like being you, they can...they can just...just sod off!"
"That's what Nana Dora said." Pandora recalled miserably. She hadn't felt particularly comforted by what Nana Dora had said about the newspaper, and it sounded even less comforting coming from Cleo.
Cleo took a generous swig from the bottle, slumping sideways until she could put her feet up upon the sofa.
"Did she?" she spluttered a moment later, having narrowly avoided choking on the drink, scrambling to sit a little more upright. "She's a good one I reckon, your Nana. Bit...you know..."
Pandora didn't know.
"...but she's not stupid. They don't take stupid people, do they? In MI6 or MI5 or whatever it was...what was it?"
"Er..."
"She never looked like one, I never thought. I always thought spies or ninjas or whatever the bloody hell you call them were a bit more...you know..."
Pandora really didn't know.
"...'s just pink hair's a bit bloody obvious, isn't it?"
"Oh...yes..."
"I bet she's got a bedtime story or two, eh?"
"Um..."
"Unless it's all top secret and she can't tell you about it, of course."
"Yes...that's it..."
"That's a bit bloody boring, isn't it?"
"Um..."
"She's got a decent head on her shoulders, anyway. You should listen to her, you know? She's right about people...sod them!"
The pair lapsed into silence for a long moment, before Cleo gave a snigger and recalled:
"One time when we were kids your dad told me she could kill a man with just her little finger!"
Pandora was about to choke out laughter when Cleo scrambled to sit up to fix her with a wide eyed stare as she asked:
"Can your Nana really do that?!"
Dawn.
And a shrieking alarm clock.
And, Dora Lupin realised a moment later when she tried to sit up and reach to slam a hand down upon the infernal contraption, sudden paralysis.
"Bugger..." the witch groaned, wincing at the pain shooting down her stubbornly rigid legs as she flopped back down against the pillows, her eyes screwed shut. She reached a blind hand towards the clock, knowing full well that she couldn't quite reach, and demanded: "Shut up!"
The clock ignored her...
BANG!
At the clock's sudden suicidal leap off the bedside table that left it to plummet to the floor with such force that it smashed itself to pieces upon impact, Remus Lupin sat bolt upright in bed with a start.
"That's better." the werewolf's wife sighed, hand flopping down to hang sleepily off the side of the bed.
Remus leant to peer over at the time piece's shattered remains, uttering:
"Dora...!"
"What?" Dora mumbled, consenting to opening an eye. She regarded her handiwork for a long moment before saying: "Oh, right. Sorry, love..."
As Remus eased himself carefully out of bed and fumbled around upon his own bedside table for his wand, Dora wondered:
"Can you fix it, d'you think?"
"Perhaps..." the werewolf murmured, sounding rather doubtful.
"Can you fix me, too?" his wife asked wearily, a deep frown creasing her brow. "I'm due at the Ministry in an hour and I can't move my legs..."
"I'll put the kettle on." Remus mumbled, shuffling towards the bedroom door, and Dora wondered if there was anything else he could possibly do for her...
She felt like a lost cause, just then.
She suspected Remus thought she was, too.
As she fumbled with the various bottles and vials that had been abandoned upon her bedside table, struggling in her awkwardly limited movement not to knock anything down onto the floor after the clock, Dora attempted to ignore the pain in her legs and focus on the day's agenda. She planned to visit the archery club that Pandora said Jeff had attended regularly, then see to the following week's rota for guard duties amongst both the Aurors and volunteers. There would need to be a meeting to discuss Magical Substances' findings regarding the letter bomb fragments and once she and the rest of the department had racked their brains for any fresh ideas on that front, Dora would need to address the Wizengamot again. They would need fresh warnings, fresh advice, they wanted to see progress, wanted Jeff caught...
And of course Ron had spent most of the previous day trying to arrange a safe house for Jeff's mother who was due to be interviewed in the coming days. Dora was irked by the need for a safe house at all, if people weren't so keen on making threats to Mrs Fawley and Merlin knew who else who had any connection to Jeff or was a suspected Squib, the Auror Department wouldn't need to waste so many resources on procedures like this...
There was a raid of Knockturn Alley scheduled for that afternoon, Harry had started planning it over a month ago in relation to one ongoing investigation or another. Dora hadn't even looked at his notes yet, that needed doing too, and somebody needed to write to the French Head of Aurors because another dark wizard high on the Ministry's Most Wanted list had, according to a memo that had arrived upon Dora's desk late the previous day, been possibly sighted aboard a muggle ferry bound for Calais...
She wanted to brave a trip to the hospital to see Harry in the vague hope that he might be looking healthier and she might feel bolstered by the reassuring notion that he would be discharged and back at work soon...
And there was that paperwork she had ignored yesterday, and the memo she had never gotten round to reading from the day before, and...
Dora gritted her teeth and tried to slide one leg sideways towards the edge of the bed. The wasted muscle spasmed in protest and white hot pain sliced its way up her thigh, causing the witch to let out a frustrated hiss. She snatched up a large, bulbous bottle from the bedside table, free hand reaching to rub at her aching thigh as she proceeded to pull the cork from the bottle with her teeth. She spat the cork out into her lap, paused to eye the warning label that had been carefully emblazoned across the glass, before downing the potion in three large gulps. Once the bottle was empty, the Acting Head of Aurors reached for a second one...
Meanwhile, Imogen Lupin was lying curled up in bed, the duvet over her head.
Her alarm clock, set carefully the previous night ready to awaken her promptly for her first day at her new job, was not due to go off for over an hour.
Imogen had been awake for what felt like forever, first day nerves having made an unwelcomely early appearance, and nothing the young witch did seemed to make them feel any less awful.
The silence of the sleeping house was disturbed by the muffled sound of her father's alarm clock in the bedroom next door. It was silenced after only a few seconds and there was silence again for a few minutes until Imogen heard the door to her parents' bedroom open quietly. She listened to her father's soft footsteps as he padded out onto the landing and headed for the bathroom and in no time at all there came the sound of water gushing from the shower.
Imogen had yet to inform her parents of her abrupt career move, partly because it would still involve explaining that she had been sacked from her previous job to begin with, and partly because speaking about it would make it all seem...well...real.
It was definitely real now though, she realised as she listen to the muffled sounds of her father's various morning rituals. There would be no pretending, come the ringing of her own alarm clock...
Teddy was out of the bathroom within fifteen minutes. Imogen heard him return to the bedroom, the door clicking shut again behind him.
Carrie had always claimed one could set a watch by Teddy's preparations for work each morning, so precisely timed were the various stages. Imogen in response had claimed she hoped her life never became like clockwork too because it sounded downright dull.
Not that there was anything much dull about being an Auror. Nothing past getting ready for work and leaving the house each morning went like clockwork for an Auror, Imogen suspected. The rest of the day was like chaos personified...
Albeit in a strictly organised fashion.
Imogen wondered how long it took her father to dress for work. She waited ten minutes before slipping out of bed and going to knock softly upon the door to her parents' bedroom. When her mother called a greeting she reached to push the door open and shuffled inside.
Teddy was sat upon the bed, very nearly entirely dressed, scarlet Auror robes draped across his lap as he leant back against the headboard, one arm tucked snugly around his wife as she leant her head upon his bare chest, her fingers fumbling to do up the buttons of the black shirt he had no doubt shrugged into a few minutes earlier.
"...thought I'd have lunch with them once they get back this afternoon." Carrie was saying, and Teddy hmmed sleepy agreement and agreed:
"Yes, we don't want Pandora to think we've just abandoned her there! Are you sure Cleo doesn't mind taking her to work?"
"Oh I shouldn't think she cares, she'll probably enjoy the company..." Carrie finished doing up a button and looked up at their eldest daughter stood just inside the doorway.
The muggle raised an eyebrow.
"Merlin," she said as the pyjama-clad Imogen reached to hug her arms around herself. "Bit early for you, isn't it love?"
"Where's the fire?" Teddy asked, offering the young witch a broad grin, only for Carrie to flop back against her own pillows and tell him:
"It's too early to grin like that, Ted. Aren't I right, Im?"
"Yes, it is."
Despite Imogen's agreement, Teddy carried on smiling regardless.
"You've not come to offer to make your darling father a cup of tea, have you?" he said, reaching to do the rest of the shirt buttons up himself and making a far swifter job of it than his wife by far. "I'm parched!"
"No," Imogen mumbled, coming to perch upon the edge of the bed by his feet. "I've come to tell you something. It's about work."
Her parents seemed to visibly brace themselves. Imogen felt a slight pang of annoyance that they no doubt suspected bad news, though she supposed in a way she was going to start off with some...
"I um...I've left the Leaky. For good, I mean..."
Carrie shuffled to sit up again, reaching to push the disarrayed hair from her eyes as Teddy pursed his lips against interrupting.
"Hannah sacked me, actually," Imogen said, the words coming out in a rush, determined to be honest and yet get that part of the explanation over and done with. "It was stupid of me but it...it doesn't really matter! Because the good news is I've um...I've got a new job! And I'm starting this morning!"
There was a long pause as this information was left to sink in.
"Hannah sacked you?!" Carrie finally said, eyes widening in horror, only for Teddy to ask:
"What new job?"
"She got herself sacked, Ted!" Carrie pointed out, as if really as her father Teddy ought deal with one atrocity before moving on to Merlin knew what else, but Teddy shrugged impatiently and muttered:
"Yes, so did I once upon a time, and aren't we all glad it turned out that way now?"
For a split second the look upon Carrie's face suggested she might say no, but, quite luckily Imogen suspected, the Auror's wife managed to not say anything at all.
"It's at Silver Chalice Potions." Imogen went on as if nobody had said anything. "I'm going to be a um...Ingredients Coordinator. I just...just wandered in there and filled out an application the other day and...well..."
"Silver Chalice?" Teddy said, sounding quite amused at the idea. "That's Walter Selwyn's place, isn't it?"
"Yes, Dad."
"They've been there for almost as long as Diagon Alley has, I'd wager. Nana used to go and buy Wolfsbane from them, cost her almost double what some of the little apothecaries would charge. It might've broken the bank, she said, but you know what you're getting from a place like that, they have good quality standards that you can trust. Very reputable company, I'd say." Teddy offered his daughter a bright smile, giving Carrie's shoulder a squeeze as he withdrew his arm from around her and set about standing up. "Good job, Sweetheart, I'm proud of you!" he told Imogen brightly as he set about shrugging into his Auror robes. "Stick at it there and you'll be going places, I daresay!"
"I'm sure you'll do a great job there, love!" Carrie agreed, apparently quite over her previous horror to hear that her daughter had managed to land a truly decent job at last. Imogen felt a flood of relief as their praise immediately bolstered her waning confidence. "I'm so glad!"
"Cake for tea, I think!" Teddy laughed as he went to retrieve his boots and set about pulling them onto his feet, and as Imogen sniggered Carrie demanded to know:
"What sort of cake, Im?"
"Um..." Imogen said, finding the daft preoccupation made her relax entirely. "Well..."
"I like Victoria Sponge..." Teddy put in hopefully, only for his wife to inform him:
"I wasn't asking you, Ted!"
"I like Victoria Sponge too." Imogen said, earning an even bigger grin from her father, and Carrie sighed rather disapprovingly but nevertheless consented:
"Victoria Sponge it is, then."
Teddy, having pulled his laces tight and tied them securely with a flick of his wand, went to perch upon the bed at Carrie's side, reaching to take hold of her hand.
"Be careful, won't you?" he said, pausing to press a kiss to her forehead. "Check nobody's following you when you leave for Cleo's, that's the last thing we need right now."
"I'll keep an eye out, don't worry."
"Good."
"Keep a good eye on your mum."
"I will."
"She needs to slow down."
"She doesn't know how, I don't think."
"Perhaps your dad might have had a word last night...?"
"I doubt it, he'd likely not see the point. You know what it's like, once Mum's set on doing something...there'll be no stopping her. And it doesn't help that she's taking it all so personally! She'll work herself to death if it comes to it..."
Carrie sighed heavily, fingers toying absentmindedly with the collar of his shirt.
"D'you suppose it'll come to it?" she wondered grimly, and Teddy gave a huff.
"I like to think Dad might at least try to put his foot down by then. It's not in his best interests to be a widower..."
They both managed a grim snigger, though Imogen was not at all amused, and as his forehead came to press against Carrie's temple, Teddy instead insisted:
"It won't come to that, darling. We'll catch him soon, I'm sure of it."
"Are you?" Carrie sounded disbelieving, causing him to stubbornly amend:
"I'll make sure of it." He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips as Imogen turned to retreat to her room, and a moment later Teddy disappeared downstairs to grab a quick breakfast before heading to work.
When he arrived at Auror Headquarters a short while later, he found all the Aurors appeared to be crowded around Ron Weasley's desk, and as he sidled his way through the outskirts of the small crowd, Teddy heard Ron announce from deep within it's midst:
"Well it's not exactly surprising, is it?! Everyone best just get on with what they've been doing and she'll probably send instructions later on..."
"What's going on?" a newly arrived Auror asked as she sidled up next to Teddy near the back of the crowd.
"Tonks has owled in sick." Ron explained, holding up the letter in question and waving it above his head for good measure, and as he too appeared at the back of the crowd, shrugging a satchel off his shoulder, Albert Diggory admitted:
"I think that's highly unlikely..."
"It's right here in ink, Bertie."
"If Tonks were well enough to pick up a quill for longer than a few seconds she'd probably have been here half an hour ago." Albert insisted stubbornly, only for Ron to snap:
"Be bloody reasonable, Albert, she's made of flesh and bone like the rest of us!"
Teddy, who had edged his way forward until he could peer over the back of Ron's chair, began to point out:
"That's not her handwriting..."
"Let's just get on with it! Minister'll be in here any time now, anyway!" Ron exclaimed, snatching up the letter and shoving it into his pocket as if this might end the matter, and the Aurors reluctantly began to disperse back towards their own desks. As Teddy turned to do the same he narrowly avoided walking straight into Jasmine, who was wandering through the cubicles, a unsettlingly blank expression on her face.
"Where's Tonks?" she asked, voice sounding equally as bleak.
"She's not here, Jas." Teddy explained, barely resisting the urge to reach and grasp a reassuring hand to Jasmine's shoulder, for he felt as if she might just crumble right there in front of him. After all, anything seemed possible this morning, now that his mother had done the unimaginable and failed to come to work...
"What?" Jasmine said, entirely uncomprehending, and Teddy thought he knew how she felt.
"Boss isn't here, Jas..."
"What?"
"She's sick."
"Well yeah, but..." Jasmine trailed off, struggling with the notion for a long moment, before concluding: "But she has to be here!"
"Well Ron's had an owl..."
"But I...I need her!" Jasmine complained, dull eyes widening in panic, and Teddy reached to press a steadying hand to her arm.
"What's wrong, what is it?"
"I need...I need to go home and...! I need permission to go...!"
"Is it Isaac?"
"I...well...it's...well..."
Teddy began to make a beeline for the office door, half-dragging the babbling witch after him.
"Don't be ridiculous, Jasmine." he told her firmly as he wrenched open the door and practically shoved her back through it. "When my father was dangerously ill my mother never once bothered to ask permission to stay at home! Now get out of here and I'll make sure Ron finds somebody to see to the cadets..."
At his no-nonsense, Jasmine seemed to sober a little.
"Get her back in that office, Ted." she said, sounding both anxious and relieved all at once. "I mean it, it doesn't matter what state she's in! She won't be worth living with if you don't!"
Teddy strongly suspected that Jasmine was right.
He found himself sent to spend an hour with the cadets himself until one of the other Aurors was available to take over. He'd taken a brief moment to examine Jasmine's scrawled plans before abandoning them in favour of simple duelling practice, which he had observed half-heartedly, barely giving any instruction at all.
Because Teddy Lupin found himself preoccupied.
He felt utterly consumed by thoughts of his mother, of the state of her, of what he might find when he inevitably found a spare moment to floo over to his parents' house and check up on her...
Something within Dora had snapped, Teddy realised anxiously. It might have been her body or might have been her mind, or perhaps it might even have been both because as a person she was just so all or nothing that she wouldn't just snap in one place, she'd probably shatter into a million microscopic pieces and...
There was movement upon the bench beside him as Teddy felt somebody drop down upon the perch. He glanced round to find a slightly breathless looking Auror cadet staring at him intently.
"Hi..." she said, sounding rather abashed to have been caught taking a breather from the exercise he had set some while earlier, and Teddy sat a little straighter, fighting to clear his head enough to mumble:
"Hello..."
"Are you Mrs Lupin's son?" the young witch asked, and Teddy's gaze dropped back to his boots.
"Yes, I am."
"I don't think we've actually met properly, I've not been here very long, it's my first year of training."
"Oh..."
"I'm Liz."
"Hello Liz."
"I er...I made your mother a...a cup of tea the other day. She was er...interviewing your daughter..."
"Oh...yes..." Teddy reached to rake a weary hand through his hair, in no mood for polite conversation.
"I um...I thought a great deal of her." Liz went on, fidgeting a little in her seat. "Your mother, I mean. She's a...a fine Auror. I think it's quite amazing, what she's done here whilst Harry is away. I mean we're all very anxious to have him back, of course, but it's fantastic how she's just...just shown up here after all these years and gotten stuck in, kept the cogs turning...when she's been so unwell, too!"
"My mother would run this department in her sleep if she ever got any." Teddy murmured, frowning at his boots, and the witch beside him gave a small huff of amusement.
"If you go and see her, would you tell her I send my best?" Liz said, causing Teddy to force himself to look up at her with the best smile he could muster. "And tell her there'll be a cup of tea waiting for her as soon as she's back?"
When Teddy only heaved a sigh, she wondered:
"She...she will come back, won't she?"
"Someone shall have to check in on Harry." Teddy murmured, leaning back until he could rest against the wall behind them. "One of them shall have to come back, that's for sure! Which one of them it'll be...well...Merlin knows..."
Whilst for some the working day had failed to begin at all, for others it was about to be in full swing.
Imogen Lupin stood upon the cobbles outside of Silver Chalice Potions and stared at the door.
The young witch took a deep, steadying breath, and tried to remember the advice her mother had given her some half an hour previously over breakfast.
Eat up love, Carrie had said, piling a generous tower of toast onto a plate, you've got a big day ahead of you!
Imogen's breakfast churned uncomfortably in her stomach. She suspected this wasn't really the right advice to be remembering right now...though she could not seem to recall anything else...
She glanced down at her watch to observe that she was five minutes early, before plastering what she hoped was a bright smile onto her face, and with that she strode purposefully towards the door.
She was met at the reception by a different receptionist, today the desk was being manned by a blonde haired witch in her late twenties, who had a bright pink lipstick smile as she handed Imogen a number of forms before returning her attention to the nail file that she was busy using to perfect her carefully shaped nails. Imogen was just stood carefully filling out a form or two when she heard the door back out to Diagon Alley being pushed open behind her. The receptionist glanced idly over towards the doorway, and promptly flung her nail file up into the air as she made a mad scrabble to sit up straight and look busy.
"Good morning, Master Selwyn!" she exclaimed, voice so drenched in cheer that it made Imogen want to flinch, and at the sound of brisk footsteps the company's latest employee was about to chance a glance over her shoulder, only for a familiar voice to make her freeze.
"Morning, Marge." Phoenix Selwyn greeted as he swept past Imogen towards the double doors leading towards Mr Selwyn's office, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his charcoal grey robes, apparently entirely oblivious to the newcomer's presence.
Imogen felt as if her heart had just stopped dead in her chest at the sight of him. Him!
Merlin, why him? On her first day of work, the first day of her fresh start, the day she would forget the past and move on she had to bump into him! The one person who had witnessed her at her lowest, most humiliating moment...
Of course such a dreadful scenario had briefly entered her mind when she had first realised this company was owned by a Mr Selwyn, but it was a large enough family, surely? The chances of this dreaded scene playing out had seemed reassuringly slim...
But no! There he was, pausing to lean casually upon the desk as he looked down at the receptionist, dressed in pristine robes and an open necked blue shirt so smart that looked not only freshly pressed but incapable of becoming creased in the first place. Imogen found his carefully arranged hair and clean shaven, handsome face utterly perplexing. She was certain that the opposite sex were supposed to look less attractive once one was sober...
The sandy haired wizard raised an eyebrow at the girl behind the desk as he briskly informed her: "Do put that nail file away, won't you? If he catches you with it again, Mr Selwyn will have you out the door, and we don't want that, do we?"
Marge's face promptly went as pink as her lipstick as she ducked her head, peering up at him as he passed through fluttered eyelids as she agreed:
"Of course not, Master Selywn."
"Excellent." Phoenix said, pausing by the doorway as he pulled the door open, still not giving Imogen a second glance. "And where precisely is the miserable old codger this morning?"
As Imogen bent ever closer to the forms she was studying, her nose almost pressed to the desk in an attempt to hide her face, the receptionist made an odd hiccuping sound that might have been a giggle.
"He's behind you, Master Selwyn." she said, still alarmingly cheery.
"Excellent..." Phoenix said again as Mr Selwyn stepped through the door behind him.
"Miserable old codger, is it?!" the old wizard grunted, sounding far from amused, yet Phoenix resolutely greeted him with the same brisk cheer that he had mustered for Marge.
"Good morning, Father!"
"Don't you good morning me!" Mr Selwyn snapped, shooting the giggling receptionist a withering look that made her amusement wilt away into a further blush. He seemed to brighten somewhat, however, upon spotting Imogen stooped over the desk, clutching a quill in her hand.
"Ah!" Mr Selwyn exclaimed, gesturing to Imogen with one hand and clamping the other rather roughly down onto his son's shoulder. "See here, son, I have found a replacement for...for...er..."
"Tess." Phoenix supplied darkly, folding his arms firmly across his chest and refusing to look at Imogen as if he quite disapproved of replacing anyone in the first place, let alone forgetting their name too, and his father waved a nonchalant hand and said:
"Yes, her. Anyway, see here..."
Phoenix reluctantly consented to looking up from a keen examination of his highly polished shoes...
Their eyes met.
"...this is Miss..."
"Imogen...!" Phoenix interrupted in surprise, one hand reaching to grip the edge of the reception desk.
Imogen felt the air evaporate from her lungs. She couldn't help but feel from the look on his face that Phoenix was just as embarrassed to see her as she was him.
"Yes!" Mr Selwyn said, deflated that his grand introduction had been quite ruined. He glanced at Phoenix and then Imogen before wondering: "Do you two know each other?"
"We've met..." Imogen consented to mumbling, trying to smile, though she was not sure she was doing a very good job, and her late night companion hastily added:
"Yes, briefly..."
"...not...for long..." Imogen interrupted, heart beginning to thump in her chest at the prospect of what he might say about their first encounter, only for him to decide:
"In the Leaky Cauldron. I went for a butterbeer to check up on the Quidditch scores, Mrs Longbottom always has them on the wireless!"
"Serve him, did you?" Mr Selwyn guessed, causing his son to look slightly uncertain, and Imogen hastily nodded and agreed:
"Yes! It was my...my last day working there...so..." she trailed off with a relieved smile, and Phoenix quirked an eyebrow that very nearly made her flinch.
"Miss Imogen Lupin, I was going to say." Mr Selwyn informed his son, positively beaming, and as he looked her up and down as if he had indeed never looked at her before, Phoenix folded his arms across his chest.
"Lupin, is it?" he said, and Imogen opened her mouth to reply, only for Mr Selwyn to agree:
"Indeed!"
"How extraordinary." Phoenix commented dryly, and Imogen felt thrown by his tone because he was still smiling at her.
"Yes," Mr Selwyn agreed happily. "Do you know, son, that her grandparents are..."
"Members of the Order of the Phoenix." Phoenix interrupted, much to Imogen's relief. "Yes, Father, I know precisely who they are, in fact I met Mrs Lupin in person only the other morning when I went to volunteer at the Ministry."
"Imogen here says her grandmother is an eccentric!" Mr Selwyn informed his son, beaming as if this were a simply delightful snippet of information, and at Imogen's slight grimace Phoenix merely raised an eyebrow and commented:
"Well she seemed normal enough to me. Most war heroes are, you know. That's what makes them real heroes..." he trailed off, turning his attention back to Marge sat behind the desk who was pretending to shuffle some paperwork. "Speaking of which, Marge, would you kindly owl Mr. Haverton and rearrange this afternoon's meeting? I do believe I'm expected on Guard Duty over by Gringott's at two o'clock this afternoon."
"Certainly, Master Selwyn!"
"Thank you...yes...well...do excuse me, er..."
And with that, Phoenix Selwyn shot his father's latest recruit a rather embarrassed smile before turning to disappear through the doors.
And Imogen Lupin stared after him, an odd fluttering sensation assaulting her insides as she found herself musing:
Oh dear...
"We might just fill this hospital if we keep on the way things are going." Isaac Graham observed grimly as he lay upon the bed, staring up at the ward's tiled ceiling.
At his bedside, cradling his hand in her lap, Jasmine Wickes mumbled:
"Tonks'll die before she lets herself get landed in here."
"That's what I said." Isaac recalled with a soft huff. "But here I am..."
The pair lapsed into silence, something that they had been doing frequently for the last hour since Jasmine had finally resorted to summoning healers to their house to bring him in. She felt wretched for doing so, for she had been insisting all week that it would not come to this...
"Does Harry know?" Isaac wondered after a couple of minutes, and his partner blinked her eyes slowly and said:
"Does he know...?"
"About Tonks, darling. Does he know she's off sick?"
"Oh...I don't know...somebody'll tell him, I imagine..."
"Perhaps you ought to pop in and tell him, since we're here."
Jasmine's grip upon his hand tightened stubbornly.
"I'm not leaving you, Isaac."
"It'll only take a moment...I'm not going anywhere!"
Jasmine felt tears beginning to gather in her eyes and rapid blinking only seemed to make them intensify.
"I can't...can't leave you for a...for a second!" she told him, failing to stop her voice from cracking. "I don't want a...another second without you, we've n...not got...not got many left!"
"I shall have a sleep, Jas." Isaac murmured, heaving his hand up from her lap to press it soothingly to her cheek, limbs like lead despite the gentle gesture. "I'll be sleeping, that's all..."
"Then I'll...I'll sit and...and watch you sleep..."
Isaac sighed heavily, his failing lungs making the air catch uncomfortably in his throat.
"If you're sure." he said, and she nodded her head vigorously. He dropped his hand down upon the bed, holding it raised for more than a moment seemed too tiring, and his eyes drifted closed for a long thoughtful moment. Then he decided:
"I should love a cup of tea, you know."
"I'll ask someone to fetch one, then. They come around with a trolley, don't they?" Jasmine said, mind darting back to her own last stay in the hospital some two years previously, having been on the receiving end of a nasty hex or two.
"Oh no," Isaac mumbled sleepily. "Not that stuff, darling. They hand it out in tiny little cups, 's barely a drink at all..." He dragged one eye open to gage her reaction as he said: "'S the stuff they sell in the cafe that's best. Nice big cup, they do, and a chocolate biscuit." He forced the brightest smile he could muster onto his face, his eyes somewhat faraway at the notion as he confessed: "Merlin, I could murder a chocolate biccy right now!"
Through her tears, Jasmine snickered.
"They d...do those...those ones with...with the cream in the middle...they're m...my..."
"You're favourite." Jasmine finished for him, her face brightening a little at the memory, and he smiled back at her, concluding:
"Precisely, my love."
After near on a minute of silent contemplation, Jasmine rose stiffly from her chair. She leant to brush a kiss to his fevered brow before assuring him:
"I'll fetch you tea and biscuits, love."
"What a marvel!" Isaac wheezed, very nearly grinning. "Send Healer Rhodes in as you pass, will you? I want...I want more painkillers."
"Sure, Sweetheart." Jasmine murmured, smiling faintly, and it took her a second to drag her eyes away from him before she strode off down the ward towards the doors. Within a moment of her disappearing out of them, Healer Rhodes bustled in, clutching a clipboard.
"Ms Wickes say you're after more pain relief, Mr Graham." she said as she came to a halt at his bedside. "Now, I'm afraid we've already given you a triple dose of..." The witch was cut off mid-sentence when Isaac reach to clamp a trembling hand to her elbow, his eyes upon her imploring.
"I'm numb to the eyeballs already, thank you." the sickly wizard murmured as the healer stared back at him, "Now my Jasmine isn't here I need you to be frank and tell me the exact truth." He paused to wet his lips carefully, struggling against a lump forming in his throat. He glanced sideways at Jasmine's empty chair for a moment, before looking the healer straight in the eye as he requested: "Tell me how long I have left."
"Tell me how long I have left." Harry Potter mumbled wearily to the witch sat perched upon the edge of his hospital bed, and his daughter rolled her eyes and reminded him:
"You're not dying, Dad."
"You know what I mean." the Head of Aurors said, sounding somewhat bad-tempered, and Lily told him:
"The healers told me as I came in that you're stuck here for a while yet."
"Ridiculous..." Harry muttered, and Lily observed:
"Auntie Dora's attitude appears to be contagious." The red-haired witch jabbed an accusing finger at her father's chest as she insisted: "Don't you go getting any silly ideas, either!"
"Like what?"
"Like...like discharging yourself early or anything daft like that! That's precisely the sort of nonsense Auntie Dora gets up to and I don't know why either Uncle Remus or Ted allow it!"
"Auntie Dora and I aren't schoolchildren, Lils." Harry pointed out, quite taken aback at the abrupt role reversal between parent and offspring. "We can make our own decisions, we're adults...we're Aurors, for goodness sake!"
"Schoolchildren and Aurors are one and the same!" Lily insisted, peering down at him accusingly, only for a broad grin to ruin the whole facade. She slipped off the bed onto her feet and leant to drop a kiss atop her father's head. "I'm only repeating what Mum said last night, Dad." she said, reaching to snatch up her handbag from it's perch upon the bedside table. "Just because you're on the mend, don't go doing anything stupid!"
"Merlin..." Harry muttered, brow furrowing deeply, only for Lily to turn towards the ward doors to observe:
"Cheer up, Dad, looks like you've got a visitor!"
Harry turned to peer over towards the doors, where he found an ashen faced Jasmine Wickes stood just inside the doorway, clutching a couple of cups in her hands.
"See you later." Lily said as she slipped her bag into the crook of her arm. "James says he'll drop by later once he's done at work!" She shot her father one last smile before setting off towards the doors, passing Jasmine with a murmured: "Morning, Jasmine."
Jasmine made a noise that could be construed as a half-hearted greeting as she stood, staring over at where Harry sat in bed.
There was a long pause as she and Harry stared at one another, before Harry finally suggested:
"Well...come and sit down, then!"
Her shuffling progress towards him made the Head of Aurors wince. He noticed her casual clothing and felt an odd sense of dread.
"Is that for me?" he asked, determinedly cheerful as she set the cups down upon his bedside table and perched upon the edge of a plastic chair.
Jasmine mumbled something unintelligible. Harry tried to lean forward a little to hear her, wincing a little at the pain in his ribs.
"Jas...?"
"It's for Isaac." Jasmine blurted, clutching her hands tightly together in her lap. "I was passing...so..."
"Oh..." Harry said, glancing down at his own lap in contemplation for half a second before: "Oh."
By the time his eyes had darted back up to look at her, tears were streaming down her chalky cheeks. He reached a hand to press to her arm, only to find she was only close enough to meet his fingertips as he murmured: "Oh Jas, I'm so, so sorry! When did he...?"
"This morning." Jasmine sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself, but it didn't seem to make any difference.
Harry reached to rub despairingly at his temple, his cheer instantly evaporated.
"Well listen," he said, "I'm sure...I'm sure Tonks has already told you all this but...but you stay away from Headquarters, alright? Take as long as you need, just..."
"She's off sick."
"...sorry?"
"Tonks." Jasmine clarified with a sniff, resorting to wiping her eyes upon her sleeve. "She owled in sick this morning. Probably too crippled to get out of bed. There's no surprise, the rate she's been going..."
"She...she can't get out of bed?" Harry echoed, feeling the blood drain from his face at the idea, and Jasmine gave a vague shrug.
"Well I didn't see her owl but...it's not Legilimency, is it?"
"She...she said she was perfectly well when she owled me last night..." Harry began, only for Jasmine to give a huff and tell him:
"This is Tonks we're talking about, Harry, she's a chronic liar!"
"But Remus said..."
"Remus knows what's good for him. Believe me, Harry, she carries on she's going to kill herself."
At the startled look Harry shot at her, she consented to amending: "Or permanently kill her legs, at least."
In response, Harry merely buried his face in his hands.
"What's she doing this for?" he complained, fingers grasping at fistfuls of hair in frustration. "I had to beg her come out of retirement, she knew it was all too much for her, she was supposed to be concentrating on taking things slowly..."
"You knew she wouldn't."
"I would never have asked if I thought it would get like this!"
"Yes you would..."
"I don't want her to ruin her health!"
"Maybe but you know precisely what she's like and you still went ahead and asked her."
"Oh Merlin..." Behind his hands, Harry's face contorted in fury as he cursed himself under his breath. After a moment he dropped his hands back down upon the mattress and set about heaving himself up from the pillows at his back, teeth gritted at the sharp pain in his ribs.
"Help me up!" he demanded, one leg dangling precariously off the side of the bed. "I have to...I have to get up..."
From her seat, Jasmine merely stared at him wearily through a dull veil of despair. When she did not move to help him, Harry insisted:
"For Merlin's sake, Jasmine, help me up! I have to see her!"
"Not bloody likely." Jasmine muttered, shaking her head at his struggling.
"What?!"
"I'm not helping you go anywhere, Harry. One bloody martyr is quite enough, thanks very much! We don't need you throwing yourself onto the fire after her!"
"Jas I have to tell her to slow down!"
"There's no point, she won't listen..."
"I have to make her see sense!"
"Then you can set a good example, stay in hospital and do it via parchment and ink. Perhaps you might teach us all something." Jasmine insisted stubbornly, rising form her chair and retrieving the two cups of tea from the bedside table. She seemed abruptly deflated to tell him: "I have to get back to Isaac."
Harry sagged back down upon the bed, colour rising in his cheeks as he mumbled:
"Yes...of course..."
She was halfway to the door when he called to make her pause.
"Jas?"
"Yes?"
"I...I really am sorry about Isaac."
"Yes."
"Give him my best, won't you? He's a...a good friend."
"Yes."
She took a few more shuffling steps before:
"Jas?"
"Yes?"
"If Tonks is on the fire do you think Remus will put the flames out?"
Jasmine examined her shoes for a moment before shaking her head.
" No." she said, frowning deeply. "Because Tonks isn't on the fire, Harry, she is the fire. The best Remus might do is smother the flames just long enough to keep her from burning herself to ashes."
Another few steps and Jasmine was about to push the door open with a foot, only for:
"Jas...?"
"Yes?"
There was a long pause before Harry asked:
"Will people forgive me for lighting the touchpaper?"
There was another pause which Harry found utterly agonising, before Jasmine shrugged and confessed:
"I don't know."