Chapter Fifty-Four

"I suppose I should count myself lucky that our time together was not long enough for my heart to shatter completely upon your departure, Miss Bradbury."

Julia chuckled, rolling her eyes, as she zipped up the bag she had just finished packing; "That you should, Mr. Black."

Regulus placed a hand upon his chest, grinning at her from where he sat on the bed; "Whatever will I do with myself in your absence?"

"Oh, I'm sure your son will be happy to keep your hands tied," Julia remarked, as she stepped into the space in front of him, draping an arm over each of his shoulders; "I dare say you'll barely even notice I've gone."

Regulus laughed.

"I doubt the latter," he said, before stealing a kiss; "Not so much the first."

"I'd better go," Julia said, before reaching and hoisting the bag up over her shoulder; "Lest we see a repeat of last Christmas."

She began to turn around, as Regulus sprung to his feet, indicating for the bag.

"Here. I can get that."

"Ah. You have stalled this long enough, Black," Julia said, turning back with a smile and a hand to his chest, holding him in place.

"Well. You can't blame a man for trying, hmm?" he remarked, rocking forward slightly on his feet, and Julia gave a hum of laughter and the hand on his chest curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, before she claimed his lips with hers.

Now.

That was a kiss.

Regulus reached for her, keen for it go on, but Julia drew back with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile; "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

She turned and headed from the room – from the house – and left him to it, to get everything sorted out for Malachi's return.

Not that much sorting needed to be done.

And while he was less than thrilled that Julia had now moved out – not that they had ever really spoken about or properly acknowledged the fact that she had moved in – to make way for his son's return, Regulus was more than just a little eager to have his boy back for the Easter break.

As such, the door had barely clicked shut behind her, when Regulus pulled on his cloak and made the short journey to Hogwarts to collect him.

There was a buzz in the air, the excitement of the start of the spring holidays filling the halls, as he made his way through and he gave polite smiles and nods to the students who looked his way – some with ire and some with awe – and did his best to keep his eye out for a certain Miss Grace Potter, so as to be able to avoid her if he spotted her nearby.

"Dad!"

Malachi was waiting just the other side of the door to the Great Hall, bag at his feet as if he'd been waiting for hours, and Regulus frowned and glanced at the timepiece, for he was certain he was early.

"Oh. You're ready to go?"

"Yeah," Malachi nodded, lifting his bag; "Let's go."

There was no time to waste for his son, it seemed, as Regulus was forced to quicken his pace to keep up with him; in and out of the Castle within minutes.

"What's the rush, Son?"

Malachi just shrugged.

Well. That wouldn't do.

Regulus put an arm around his shoulders; "What do you say we head on into muggle London for the afternoon?"

Malachi met his eyes, before giving him a smile.

Harry was nervous.

He didn't know why, really, as it wasn't as if he didn't know Dumbledore pretty well.

And obviously he could be trusted.

But the thought of another person riffling through his mind and memories at will – for Harry was certain his recent progress with Snape wasn't going to be enough to stop Dumbledore from getting in – made him uneasy. Almost as uneasy as he had felt at the beginning of the occlumency lessons, when Snape had first introduced it to him, which was odd as he didn't even really care anymore about Snape looking during their sessions.

He guessed from Snape, there wasn't anything he had to hide; they shared the same secrets.

Or maybe he just trusted him.

He'd already conceded as much, just the night before.

"How come you've got to go to lessons when it's the holidays? No one else does," Grace asked, when Harry announced it was time he get going.

Harry pushed aside the nervousness he felt, pulling his sweater over his head; "It's just extra stuff with Dumbledore. For fun."

"For fun?" Grace looked sceptical but before she could ask anything else, Harry ruffled her hair and got to his feet.

"I'll be back soon, alright."

He got to his feet, heading to the door of Remus' chambers to leave, but when he pulled open the door he was halted by the presence of someone else on the other side.

Nymphadora Tonks.

She had obviously been standing there for a bit, and looked surprised to suddenly be faced with him, as she shifted from foot to foot, arms clutching a few boxes of – what appeared to be – games in front of her; "Oh, Harry. Hey!"

"Uh…Prof…Miss Tonks," Harry was surprised to see her – though, he supposed, he shouldn't be, going by all the lovey-dovey eyes she and his Uncle Remus had been giving one another the past few weeks – and he called over his shoulder; "Uncle Remus!"

"Oh, I wasn't –" Tonks waved a hand, almost dismissively, looking reddened and almost like she wanted to bolt all of a sudden, but before she could Remus appeared behind him.

"Tonks," Remus smiled, obviously pleased to see her; "Um. Hi. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Everything's fine. I just…I just thought, maybe you'd like a hand, you know, entertaining Grace? I, uh…I brought board games," she held up the boxes she clutched in her hands, giving them a little shake as if to entice him to play.

One of the boxes slipped from her hands, falling to the ground with a clatter, and various bits and pieces from inside the box scattered at their feet.

Harry fought not to laugh – her real reason for turning up obvious – and stepped around her as she thrust the other two boxes into Remus' arms and knelt down to gather up the other, blushing so hard that even her hair had turned red.

"Well, I gotta get to this thing. But Grace would love that. Right Uncle Remus?"

Remus looked uncertain – even shy – but he still smiled from where he was now crouched beside Tonks on the floor, helping tidy up the mess, and as Harry rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, he caught sight of Tonks following him and disappearing on into Remus' chambers.

Harry's unease has pretty much left him, driven away by amusement at Tonks' attempted courtship of his Uncle Remus, as he grinned and chuckled intermittently as he made his way to Dumbledore's office.

It was so odd, really, to even see Remus with a girl. He'd never shown any interest or ever mentioned any girlfriends in all the years that Harry had known him. Mind you, he realised, his mum had been involved with Snape all that time and Harry had been none the wiser; and Mr. Black hadn't exactly flaunted his relationship with Julia, either, and he'd seen them together tons since he was a kid.

Maybe Harry was just blind to stuff like that.

Or Remus and Tonks were just too slap bang obvious.

Within a few minutes, Harry was on the staircase and entering Dumbledore's office.

"Ah. Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore's smile was immediate, from where he sat behind his desk, and Harry couldn't help but return it. His smiles were always so kind and warm; not exactly something Harry was used to when it came to his occlumency lessons.

"Evening, Professor."

"I have to apologise for the inconvenience of imposing these lessons upon you, Harry, while your friends are free to enjoy the holidays," Dumbledore said, as Harry took a seat, and he lifted the jar of sweets on his desk, indicating Harry take some; "Unfortunately, present circumstances demand it."

"It's no problem, Sir," Harry shook his head, immediately, and took a few of the sweets, popping one into his mouth; "I want to do them. I know they're important."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, looking at him almost proudly, and Harry felt himself puff up, unconsciously, with pride and pleasure at having managed to gain the Headmaster's approval.

"Well. In that case, shall we begin?"

Malachi was glad to be home.

If he were honest, he hadn't even wanted to go back to Hogwarts at all once the winter break had come to an end. His dad had still been in St Mungo's – him sleeping in the chair by his side every night – but even that had been preferable to returning to school.

He'd never much liked Hogwarts anyway.

He didn't want to leave his dad.

He didn't want to go sleep in the dorms and hang out in the Common Room with the kids of the people who'd almost killed him.

And he really didn't want to see Harry.

But his dad had insisted and Julia had offered – promised – that she'd take care of him while he was away – and his dad had done nothing to hide his own delight at that offer – so he'd reluctantly packed his bags and gone back to school.

It was the worst three months he'd ever spent there.

But at least – from what he had seen in the few hours since they'd arrived home from London – his dad was fine now. And things were, pretty much, back to normal.

Except, well, they weren't. The house seemed different. Weird, even, though not, necessarily, bad. The cups were put away facing down, instead of up; the blinds were pulled up, instead of slanted; the towels were actually folded; there was a faint, feminine smell in the bathroom.

And it was very, very clean.

"Where's Julia?" he asked his dad, as he took a seat at the kitchen counter opposite where he was preparing dinner.

"Hm?" his dad looked up from the carrots he was chopping.

"Julia. She's obviously been living here."

"What makes you say that?"

"The house. It's all girly."

"How is it girly?"

"It smells like flowers. And it's clean."

His dad touched the tip of the knife to his lips, making a show of thinking about it; "We do have a house elf, funnily enough."

"Kreacher doesn't clean," Malachi shot him a look and his dad grinned, carrying on with prepping the veg in front of him, which was only further evidence of their less than efficient house elf.

"You know, I'm not gonna forget about this, Dad."

"What's that?"

"How quick you were to send me back to school so you could have your girlfriend come stay with you."

His dad chuckled, shaking his head; "I sent you back to school because you belong in school," he put the knife down, looking at him properly; "And yes, Julia has been staying here. Does that bother you?"

"Has she been in my room?"

"Why would she be in your room?"

"Then why would I care?"

"You cared at Christmas, you cheeky little sod," his dad ruffled his hair, before giving him a playful shove; "Pass those onions."

Malachi did.

"Where is she now?"

"She's at home," his dad carried on chopping.

"Why?"

"Because that's where she lives."

Malachi glanced around the kitchen. It did look different. Even his dad seemed different. He wasn't so tense – not that Malachi had ever really thought he'd seemed tense before – instead, he seemed relaxed. Content.

Happy.

Malachi had never really considered, before, that his dad wasn't actually happy.

But, then, he did wonder about it in the past, how his dad dealt with the time when Malachi was away at school, certain that his ever-playful father must have been lonely, here, by himself.

"You didn't have to send her away just because I was coming home," Malachi eventually said, more seriously this time.

His dad met his eyes, looking at him carefully; "Yeah?"

Malachi smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah."

His dad smiled.

"Um. Just make sure you put a silencing charm on your room at night or something."

"Malachi," his dad's previous warm gaze was replaced with a look of exasperation.

"What?" Malachi chuckled, laughing at his dad's blush.

"No jokes like that when she's here," his dad pushed the chopped vegetables into the pot at his side.

"Who's joking, Dad?" Malachi retorted. Because he certainly wasn't.

His dad lifted the dish towel that was lying on the counter, chucking it at Malachi face; "Let's just leave it you and me, Son."

"I'm just messing with you, Dad," Malachi said, laughingly, throwing the dish towel back at him; "I wanted to see her, anyway; she's cool."

That part Malachi was sure about, even if he still wasn't quite so sure how he felt about his dad feeling the same way. Thoughts of his mum were never too far behind.

"That right, hm?" his dad put the pot on the stove, flicking his wand to start the cooking charm.

"Yeah. I wanted to ask her some stuff," Malachi shrugged; "You know. Muggle stuff; she's muggleborn, mind?"

"Mhm," his dad nodded, getting that same uncomfortable look that he tried to hide whenever Malachi brought up muggles; "Well, I'll see if she wants to join us next weekend then. Merlin knows, I could do with the reinforcements once Harry and Grace show up and you three are wreaking havoc on the place."

Malachi frowned; "Harry and Grace are coming? Why?"

"They needed a responsible, parental figure for the weekend, and I stepped up to the task."

"You mean Professor Lupin was desperate."

Malachi ducked his dad's swipe with a laugh.

"Didn't Harry tell you they were coming?"

"No but I hardly see Harry anymore; there's this new club they're making us do at school. The Duel Club. Four afternoons a week and it takes us right up to curfew. That's the only time I see him and we're just firing spells at each other. I think they're trying to get us ready to fight in the war. Well, some of us, anyway."

"Is that what they told you?"

"They didn't say it, it's just obvious. Did you hear that Crouch legalised the use of the Unforgivables?"

"Just for aurors, Son," his dad said, crossing his arms; "And where did you learn about the Unforgivables?"

"Professor Lupin taught us about them last week. It's part of the new defence program. We don't get to use them on each other, obviously. Just mice and spiders. I'm not very good, though."

"Hm. Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," his dad said, not quite meeting his eyes; "It takes a certain…baseness of character, to be able to tap into that kind of magic."

Malachi looked at his dad, carefully, for a second, knowing that it was the kind of magic his dad had surely been exposed to – used himself, even – in the past, before he went on.

"Well, they want us to be able to tap into it. There's this big drive for recruitment onto the new Auror Program the Ministry's setting up to start this summer. That and the Healer Apprenticeships. They've got them coming in to speak to us, some Aurors and Healers – well, mostly, to the sixth and seventh years – after the holidays. But I heard we can register interest now and once we turn sixteen, we can enroll onto the programs even before doing the NEWTs and we'll be credited based on the program's equivalent."

"Who told you that?"

Malachi shrugged; "Daphne. Mr. Greengrass is an editor on one of the papers. She overheard a meeting. They said if they couldn't garner enough voluntary interest, they'd have to look at conscription straight out of Hogwarts - maybe even earlier – and are keeping an eye on which students show the most promise; not just for healers and aurors, but apothecaries and legillimens, and well, anyone they can use, really, now that Vo – now that he's started killing again."

His dad was silent, though he was barely able to conceal his unease.

"They're not interested in Slytherins, though," Malachi went on; "Too much of a risk that they'd just end up training up the opposite side. Dumbledore's fighting it all, but Daphne's dad doesn't think there's much he can do to stop them. Crouch wants Dumbledore on his side but not if he starts causing him trouble; he sounds pretty nuts, right?"

His dad seemed to mull over the information.

And then he cleared his throat, before placing a hand on Malachi's shoulder and giving him a smile; "Well. Good thing you're back here to give you a little break from all of that."

Malachi smiled.

"Things are all a bit hectic, getting everything set up for the Foundation reopening," his dad went on; "But I've moved things around, so I'll be finished up by lunchtime while you're here."

"Sounds good."

His dad smiled – though Malachi could tell his mind was on what he'd just told him – and the hand on his shoulder slipped around, drawing him in for a hug and he felt his dad press a kiss to the side of his head.

"It's good to have you back, Son."

The lesson was going better than Harry had expected.

Much better.

Dumbledore was actually nice about it – which was definitely not something Harry was used to – praising him when he did well and giving him tips on what to try next - which, he supposed, Snape did too, but it wasn't with the same smile and warmth that easily emitted from the Headmaster - and Snape would never comment kindly on certain memories that did come up now and again, as Dumbledore did, such as now when Grace appeared, again – "she does have her mother's smile, doesn't she," – and Harry didn't mind so much, the Headmaster seeing it; - "and a certain Gryffindor sense of mischief".

"I dunno," Harry countered that point, with a roll of his eyes and a laugh; "I think she's more likely to end up in Slytherin like –"

Harry broke off.

Struck dumb for a minute, horrified at his own candour.

"Like Malachi," he tried.

But Dumbledore barely reacted, continued to simply smile serenely at him, and Harry frowned, realising:

"Oh. You know?"

Dumbledore lowered his eyes, neither confirming nor denying it, but even that was confirmation enough.

Of course, he did, this was Dumbledore, after all. And Harry supposed Snape might have been a bit more reserved about sending him to the Headmaster to continue the lessons in his absence, if he'd thought that the Headmaster having this access to his mind was a risk.

Harry smiled, relaxing further.

He found he preferred these lessons far more than he had done the ones with Snape. While they had reached an understanding now, Snape was always stern and down to business; Dumbledore almost made having his mind laid bare enjoyable. Almost.

It didn't seem like any time had passed at all, when the lesson was finally concluded.

"You did very well, Harry. Professor Snape has certainly seen to it that you have managed to develop an enviable level of ability in occlumency. Particularly for one so young."

Harry smiled, pleased with himself and the praise; "Thanks."

"It is no mean feat, considering the challenges facing us all right now; but especially yourself. You have had far more than your fair share of challenges this past year."

Harry swallowed, reminded of his mum, which he guessed Dumbledore was referring to; "It's no big deal. Not really."

"It certainly is Harry. Your sister is…very lucky, to have a brother so devoted and able to be a strength that she needs right now. The world has not been kind, to either of you."

Harry swallowed, shaking his head – he didn't need praise for that – as he said; "There's nothing I wouldn't do for my sister, Professor."

Dumbledore only smiled, saying nothing other than a simple; "Goodnight, Harry."

And Harry left the office more than a little pleased at his own efforts, that night. He was almost looking forward to the next one, two days from now, far more reassured leaving than he had been upon arrival.

Maybe Snape would come back and actually be impressed with him – though Harry doubted he'd show it with the same enthusiasm the Headmaster had demonstrated – if he managed to make further progress with Dumbledore.

Harry stepped into Remus' chambers and had almost completely forgotten that Tonks had stopped by right as he had been leaving. Although, he supposed, even if he had remembered he would still be surprised to still find her there when he got back.

Grace wasn't there – it was too late, so she'd obviously been put to bed – and board games were scattered on the floor, that they had obviously been occupied with while he was away, and Tonks and Remus were sitting at the counter in the kitchenette, so wrapped up in their own conversation that they hadn't even noticed he'd come back.

"…when I lost my mum…I was a bit older than Grace was, but…yeah, my dad really struggled with it for a while. I guess I did too – I mean, obviously I did – and I didn't, exactly, make it easy for him," Tonks was saying quietly, as Remus listened, his attention all for her.

It was obviously a very private conversation – one Harry should not be privy to – and he felt guilty for even overhearing that small bit she'd said.

"…I mean, I couldn't have asked for a better dad; he did the best he could. Like you're doing. Seeing you and Grace, you're doing so amazingly with her."

"Oh," Remus sounded caught for a second; "Oh, Grace, she's not…."

Harry hesitated, having been about to reveal himself, wondering what Remus was going to say.

"I mean," Remus went on, glancing down; "Grace, she makes everything seem that much brighter than we can really dare to imagine right now. This time spent with her in her mother's absence, it's...it's no hardship on me."

Harry frowned.

Remus had lied by omission about Grace, pretty much for years. But, now, it was different. People had to think Grace was Remus' daughter. It was the only way to keep her safe. Even Snape thought so.

It was the first time Harry had really thought about it, what Remus was doing for them – for Snape and his mum – and the first time he'd really thought about what that actually meant for him.

"Oh, Harry," Remus' voice interrupted his thoughts; "You're back."

Harry smiled, giving a nod; "Uh, yeah. Just a second ago. Is Grace asleep?"

"Yeah," Remus smiled, sharing a look with Tonks; "Yeah, couldn't keep her eyes open by the end of the night. Tonks, here, she certainly knows how to get your sister's attention."

Harry smiled at her, warmly; "That's great. You should come by again, sometime."

Tonks smiled, glancing at Remus, almost coyly; "Yeah," she looked back at Harry with a nod; "Count on it. I'd like that."

She slipped down from the stool she was sitting on; "Better be off now, though. Order patrols starting up in – oh –" she glanced at the timepiece, as she shrugged into her cloak; "Ten minutes. Good thing you interrupted us, Harry. See you later, Remus."

She walked by, giving Harry a little nudge with her elbow and a smile as she passed, and then she was gone.

Remus' eyes were still on the door, lingering a few seconds after she left.

"Something on your mind, Uncle Remus?"

Remus looked at him, quickly. And then he cleared his throat, reddening somewhat, and he shook his head; "Ah. No."

He indicated in the direction of the stove; "Hot chocolate, Harry?"

Harry grinned and gave a nod – "yeah" – before making his way over and taking the seat that Tonks had just vacated.

It felt silly to be sneaking – he was in the muggle world, after all – but years of ingrained survivor-instinct meant Malachi had been sure to go up towards the back of the village when he had crept from the safety of the cottage not long after his dad had departed for the Foundation.

The center would have more hustle and bustle, much more to see, but he wasn't feeling brave enough – or stupid enough – to go down there just yet.

His dad would kill him if he found out he'd done this.

But it was just Crail. A muggle village. There was no magic presence at all, his dad had made sure of it, and Malachi was desperate to see them. The way the muggles lived, really, not just the way they partied and socialized at the events his dad was – occasionally, reluctantly – willing to take him to.

A car passed by.

He glanced, curiously, into the window of a merchant as he walked on up, at the couple of shoppers that browsed the interior.

He could hear children's voices in their gardens, laughing and squealing and playing, and Malachi chanced a look in at the muggles each house he passed.

They didn't look so different – just as he thought – as one little girl ran and jumped into her father's arms. They were just like them. Smiling and laughing and loving one another.

It didn't take him long until he had left the residential area completely and he was walking amongst the trees.

It felt safer there, a bit less exposed, and he no longer felt quite so nervous or, even, frightened to be outwith the confines of his home, alone, for the first time in…well, forever. If he didn't think for a minute, he could imagine he were actually free.

Malachi's eyes were on the sea, as he headed along the perimeter of the trees, at two of the little boats that ventured out onto the water. At the lighthouse.

So enraptured by the sight, he was almost upon the girl by the time he noticed her.

Malachi stopped when he did.

She was sitting on a swing, which hung from the branch of one of the trees, and her eyes were on the ground – not noticing him yet – as she moved ever so slightly back and forth, tracing the dirt with the toe of her shoes.

Long blonde hair tumbled forward over her shoulder when she leaned down further and, for a second, Malachi just stared at her.

Harry always teased Malachi about Daphne, insisting that she fancied him – or, rather, he did her – not believing that it wasn't true and insisting that she was pretty.

Malachi had never looked and thought that Daphne was pretty.

But this girl was pretty.

He must have moved because a twig snapped beneath his feet and her head lifted so that she looked at him.

She smiled almost instantly. Now she looked even prettier. Malachi glanced away, suddenly shy.

"Hi," she said.

He looked back at her, smiling in turn; "Hi."

When he said nothing more – just continued to stare at her like a complete idiot - her expression changed, and she glanced up at the branch from which the swing was suspended; "Oh. Sorry. Is this yours?"

"Oh. Um. No," Malachi shook his head, glancing up at it; "I don't really…I don't come up here."

"Yeah. I thought you were new. You looked a bit lost down there."

"Oh. You saw me?"

"Mhm." She tilted her chin in the direction he had come and when he looked back he saw how very open the path he had taken had been.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Ma…x. Max."

"Cute," she smiled, brighter this time, and Malachi got a flutter – what was that – before she added; "I'm Emma."

Even her name was pretty.

"You want me to show you around?"

He probably shouldn't.

"Yeah."