Notes: Christmas shopping, among other things, although I'm not going to derail the story with descriptions of presents. Also, even "talented liars" need to learn their craft, and at his age this Loki isn't exactly an expert.

Warnings: Moderate amounts of kid- and parental-angst.

Chapter Fifteen

There was quite a crowd in Weasley's, but Mum didn't seem to mind or be in a hurry. Loki had a good look around, hoping to find something he could afford with the little bit of money he had left. He was also uneasily aware that all he had for his family were the sachets he had made at school, having pooled resources with his friends to owl-order the herbs and little linen bags from a shop Becky knew about.

Mum had gone to chat about Christmas crackers with the younger of the brothers who ran the store. When she joined Loki she was carrying a basket with a collection of them.

"Have you found anything you think they'd like?" she asked, not sounding impatient at all.

Loki chewed his lip, and confessed in a shamed little voice, "I don't have very much money. I... I spent almost all of it on Bronwyn before I went to school." Now that he thought about it, he was a bit appalled at his selfishness in spending so much on himself, even though he wouldn't want to give up Bronwyn for anything.

Mum ruffled her fingers through his hair and smiled. "Of course you did. And you know, even though your father and I are ashamed of ourselves for not realizing you wanted her, we were awfully proud of you for saving up to buy her yourself. That was very grown-up of you."

Loki blinked, a little confused by this perspective. "I... I already had a lot of it. When I saw Bronwyn first." He didn't have any reason to spend his pocket money, not the way Thor and his friends did, to treat each other- candy, Loki had found, just wasn't as nice if you bought it and ate it all by yourself, and buying himself the books and toys he wished for somehow seemed like admitting defeat- so he only had birthday and Christmas gifts for his family to spend on anyway. His growing hoard of gold and silver had come to feel like... possibilities. After he saw Bronwyn he had told himself stories about being allowed to have her, and saving his money had turned into part of the story. He was still surprised that this story, like the ones he told himself about having friends someday, had actually come true.

"Right," Mum agreed. "You aren't wasteful, so when you wanted to save for something big you already had a good start. That's very grown-up." While Loki was still puzzling that over, she added, "All right. Parents aren't encouraged to send money to first-years, since you don't have much reason to spend it, so your dad and I have been setting your usual pocket money aside. I was actually coming over to give it to you, so you could buy your gifts with it." She looked at him and sighed. "And I should have explained that to you before we ever came in here, shouldn't I? I'm sorry, Loki, do I ever talk to you about anything?" Fortunately, she didn't seem to expect an answer to that embarrassing question. Instead, she gave him an apologetic smile and a bag of rattling coins. Loki began to look around with much more purpose.

Buying gifts for friends was different from buying them for your family, Loki decided. They had to be small enough to not be embarrassing if the friend didn't have one for you, but still show the person you liked them. He also hadn't done any real Christmas shopping for his family, aside from the sachets. His mother seemed to be in no hurry, so their search took them all over Diagon Alley for at least another hour.

Loki and his mother were out in the street with their parcels when another slightly guilty thought occurred to him.

"Mum? Has Thor written to you about a boy called Clint Barton?" he asked.

Mum frowned. "No, I don't think so," she said. "Why?"

"I was wondering whether Thor planned to send him a present," Loki explained. Mum looked understandably confused about why Loki was so interested in this, and he explained awkwardly, "He's staying at school over the holidays, and his brother Barney, and I... I don't know if they'll have any presents at all. I don't think they have any family. I thought I'd... I wanted to send them one. Each, I mean."

Mum looked startled for a second, then her expression went soft and she leaned over to kiss Loki on top of the head. "That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart."

Loki blushed, thinking it wasn't so very thoughtful of him when it was probably sort of his fault the Bartons had no parents in the first place. He couldn't say that, of course.

Mum went on, "So Clint is in Thor's year?"

"No, he's a first-year, too," Loki explained. "He's in Gryffindor, so Thor's been... that's why I thought he might have said something about him." Mum was looking rather confused by now, so Loki went on, "His brother is in Thor's year, only he's in Slytherin so they're not... and Barney's... he's not very nice, really."

"But you want to give him a present anyway," Mum said.

"Well, I mean... he should still have something," Loki explained. If he was only given what he deserved, he would be the one all alone at Hogwarts while the Barton brothers celebrated here in London with Thor's family.

Mum smiled. "I agree. Let's see what we can find for them."

~oOo~

They came home on a big red city bus, because Mum thought it would be fun to do one more Muggle thing that day. It was, too: they took seats on the top deck and Loki sat by the window with his mother's arm around him while both of them looked at the city lights passing by in the darkness.

When they got home, Mum sent Loki straight up to his room, to hide Bindi's present and put away the ones for his family and friends so he could wrap them later. The gifts for Clint and Barney were already gone, sent by nocturnal owls so the brothers would receive them by Christmas.

Loki spent a pleasurable few minutes examining his offerings for his friends, the first gifts he'd ever bought for anyone aside from his family, before he decided to wrap them tonight. He was terribly excited about giving them. It didn't matter at all whether he got anything in return- Annie, George and Mitchell might have dozens of other people they needed to buy gifts for- it was just nice to have someone he felt close enough to, to want to give them a present, even though he didn't have to.

Three someones. It was still hard for Loki to believe.

Tomorrow, he planned, he would send Bronwyn with the presents. His friends all lived very close to each other, they had told him that. And he had seen the addresses they wrote on their letters home. He would send a gift to Annie first. Perhaps he should send all the presents to Annie and ask her to deliver them to George and Mitchell. Or should he keep them until the others came to visit? But it might embarrass them if he had presents for them and they had none for him, even though he didn't mind that, he really didn't-

He was just beginning to get rather frantic about this when there came a tapping at his window. Loki looked up, and there on the windowsill was a long-eared owl, tapping and scratching with its beak. He rushed to open the window and the owl flew in to drop a cloth bag on his bed, and then land on the footrail. There was a letter fastened to its leg, and Loki untied it to find a message in Annie's handwriting:

Happy Christmas, Loki! See you on the twenty-seventh!

Loki opened the bag. In it were small wrapped packages from Annie, George, and Mitchell. He turned them over and over in his hands, wanting to hug them. Then the owl hooted impatiently as Loki hurried to fetch his own gifts and put them into the convenient cloth bag.

"Just a minute, wait a minute," he pleaded with the owl, scribbling a note back to Annie and writing her address on it. He tore open the packet of Owl Treats he had bought for Archimedes and Euclid to share- surely they wouldn't mind?- and gave the owl one. Then he tied the letter to the bird's leg, scratched his neck where Bronwyn liked it, and opened the window again. The owl flew away, and Loki watched until the floating shape vanished completely among the lights of the city.

It was nearly dinnertime by now, so Loki closed his window and hurried to wash his face and hands before he went downstairs.

As he arrived on the landing above last flight of stairs to the ground floor, he saw Dad waiting for him at the bottom.

The same impulse came over him that had at the train station: he wanted to hurl himself down the stairs and into his father's arms. At the same time, though, he was overcome with an attack of shyness that made him freeze for a breath on the landing.

Before he could come unstuck, his father was coming up the stairs toward him. The next thing Loki knew, Dad had picked him right up off his feet and was hugging him. Loki wrapped his arms around Dad's neck and hugged back, his father's beard scratchy against his cheek.

"It's so good to have you home," Dad said, kissed his temple, and actually carried him down the stairs to the ground floor entry hall, Loki clinging like a baby monkey. When Dad set him down, Loki caught hold of his hand. It surprised Loki a lot, but Dad didn't seem to mind, and they walked into the dining room like that.

As happy as he was to see his father again, Loki quickly discovered it was a very uncomfortable experience, to be the focus of Dad's attention at mealtime. Ordinarily, unless he had to be corrected for his table manners, Loki went nearly unnoticed at dinner while his parents talked over important things. That was dull and rather lonely- when he was little he had eaten dinner much earlier, in the kitchen with Bindi, and he used to tell her about his lessons at the Muggle school and hear about her day. That was friendly, and he missed it.

But now he was old enough to dine with his parents, and was used to quietly eating his meals and waiting to be told he could leave the table. He often wished he had important contributions to make to the conversation, the way Thor did when he was home from school, but he knew it would be rude for him to interrupt. On the occasions when he was called upon, Loki had learned that short answers were all that was expected of him.

Tonight, though, Dad quizzed him about every aspect of his lessons, and when Loki tried to offer the customary short, courteous responses, he only got more questions. The warm feeling from Dad's greeting seeped away as the questioning continued. He put down his knife and fork and concentrated on his answers, trying to figure out what Dad wanted from him, while his food got cold on his plate and his sense of anxiety mounted. He could feel himself shrinking in his chair, as if being small would hide him, and his answers got quieter and quieter as his throat started to close. He ducked his head when everything went all blurry around him, blinking and trying desperately to think of the right answer, one that would finally make all these pointed questions stop.

He was vaguely aware of his mother shifting uncomfortably in her chair, that she had been doing so for a while, but he was still surprised when she spoke:

"Odin, that's enough."

"What do you mean, enough?" Dad sounded offended. Loki blinked away his tears and peeked up at his father, who looked hurt. Loki's chest ached at the sight, he hadn't meant to hurt Dad's feelings, he-

Mum went on calmly, "Let him eat something. There's no need to interrogate him, we have two weeks to talk."

Dad looked really upset at that. "I wasn't interrogating him. Loki, you didn't mind- " Dad looked at Loki and stopped right in the middle of telling him how he was feeling. Loki clasped his hands in his lap and wished very hard he was either in the kitchen or back at Hogwarts. Now, surely, he was going to get a lecture about being rude, and then he would be sent away from the table. He wished he'd had a chance to eat some of his dinner before that happened, it had smelled delicious.

There was a long pause, while Loki stared down at his plate and tried not to cry. Then Dad rang the bell that asked Bindi to come back to the dining room.

"Would you please bring Loki a fresh plate?" Dad requested, when the elf appeared. "I seem to have gotten carried away asking him about Hogwarts, and his dinner is all cold."

"Yes, Mr. Odinson," Bindi said, with a bobbing little bow. She patted Loki's elbow as she took his plate from him, vanished with a sharp crack and reappeared a moment later with a plateful of steaming meat and vegetables.

"All right," Dad said, when Loki didn't move to pick up his cutlery. "Eat your dinner." Loki swallowed hard and tried to obey.

"Your dad was only interested," Mum put in quickly. Loki peeked at her and Mum went on, "You've written us so many nice things about your lessons and your classmates, Dad wanted to hear all about them." She glanced at Dad, who was looking very uncomfortable. "He just forgot that a proper conversation is more than one person barking questions and the other providing the answers." Loki looked wide-eyed at his father, realizing that of course he should have, have asked questions too, only he had been too flustered to think of any.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, pushing his food around on his plate. He froze when Dad suddenly pushed back his chair and came around the table toward him.

And then there was a big warm hand resting on the back of his head, and Dad leaned down to say quietly,

"Not your fault. I forget sometimes that you and your brother aren't junior secretaries in the Ministry. Thor doesn't like it either, but I suppose he's more accustomed to it than you are." Dad ruffled his hair and said, "Now eat your dinner. I promise I'll stop barking at you. And later maybe you can tell your mother and me some proper stories about what you've been doing this term."

"And why you think learning to cook will help you in Potions," Mum added suddenly. She had remembered. Loki looked at her in surprise, and for some reason Mum blushed. "I meant to ask you to tell me about that. After dinner, all right?"

"All right," Loki agreed, and- his hands shaking only slightly- picked up a forkful of vegetables.

~oOo~

After dinner, Loki was normally expected to go and do homework or play quietly by himself until bedtime. Tonight, instead, his parents invited him to come sit with them in the library for a while. He joined Mum on the cozy sofa near the windows, while Dad sat in his big leather armchair. After a little while, Loki was snuggled up to Mum, her arm around him, while he told them about Potions class, and Herbology, and Professor Coulson's collie form, and the friendly little plants, and the first Quidditch match played by Hufflepuff, which had been tied until the Ravenclaw seeker caught the snitch.

Annie, George, and Mitchell's names came up over and over, of course, and Mum asked if he had met them on the train.

"Yes," Loki said. He was starting to feel sleepy, so he wasn't as careful with his answers as usual. "I couldn't get my trunk onto the train, I forgot about the baggage car. And George and Mitchell saw me and they helped, and then we found Annie, she'd been looking for us on the platform but it was too crowded."

"She was looking for you, too?" Mum asked. Loki nodded.

"Yes. I met her in Diagon Alley, the day I bought my things for school." The memory of what had happened after that excursion tried to knock at the edge of his consciousness, and Loki forced it away. He was warm and cozy and his mother wanted to listen to him. He wouldn't think about that right now. "I was buying my scales and she asked me about phials, and then she and her sister invited me to come find my wand when Annie got hers, because I was by myse- "

Too late, Loki realized what he was saying and tried to reel in the words. Mum had been petting his hair like she enjoyed touching him, but now her hand went still.

"You were by yourself? Where was Thor?" she asked quietly.

Loki gulped. "He... he had just gone... for a minute- "

Dad spoke up. "And you went off with these girls, even though Thor was only gone 'for a minute'?" Loki swallowed dryly, and Dad said, "That doesn't sound like you, Loki. When did Thor really leave you alone?" Loki couldn't think of an answer, which really was all the answer his parents needed. Mum tightened her arm around him, and Loki offered,

"He had, he had plans with... he was going to meet them, and then when Mum couldn't... he just... it wasn't his fault- "

"No, I suppose it wasn't, really," Mum agreed. She felt stiff against him, and Loki started to sit up. Mum didn't let go of him, petted his head again and remarked unhappily, "We certainly did make a fuss of your going away to school, didn't we? You must have wondered if we'd even notice you had gone." Loki couldn't think of an answer to that, especially since the thought really had occurred to him, a time or two when he was feeling particularly sad. His mother patted him again.

And that was when Dad said, "Speaking of your brother, Loki... we need to talk a little about the letters we've gotten from Professor Sprout and Professor Coulson. Your mother and I understand Thor has been... unkind to you." Loki waited to be asked what he had done, to make Thor so angry at him. The memory came guiltily back, of hiding and sneaking last summer until he made Thor so angry his brother had to shake him by the throat.

He was taken by surprise when his father's next words were: "When you and I spoke about Thor in September, I told you it's normal right now for him not to want to spend a great deal of time with you. And that's true, but that doesn't mean he's allowed to frighten or hurt you. There isn't any excuse for that."

"He didn't," Loki mumbled, wanting to hide. "He only... I was pestering him. He just wanted me to go away."

"And he and Volstagg made their point by grabbing and scaring you, according to reports from two different Gryffindor prefects," Dad said grimly. "It sounded like it scared the prefects, at least. Professor Coulson was nearly as disappointed in your brother as we were. And Professor Sprout says there was another incident a little later?"

"He didn't touch me that time," Loki mumbled. "He just... he doesn't want me. And, and he doesn't like Hufflepuffs, so- "

"Oh dear," Mum said. After a moment she went on, "Professor Sprout said you were very upset about that, and about being angry at your brother. Is that the way it was?" Loki remembered his dream and barely suppressed a shudder. He nodded. Mum was quiet for a moment, and then she asked gently, "Loki, has Thor ever done anything like that before? Hurt you, or scared you?"

"... no," Loki mumbled, almost too quietly to be heard. He couldn't tell them about the summer, he couldn't. Thor would get in trouble, and be really angry, and he would tell what Loki had done with the rocks, and despite what Professor Sprout had said, he didn't want his parents to know he had done a thing like that. And anyway, it had been his fault in the first place.

He didn't know if his parents believed him, but they didn't press the question.

"You've never really played with Thor and his friends," Dad said next. "Was that because you didn't want to, or because they didn't want you to?"

Loki chewed his lip, unable to think of an answer. Of course he had wanted to play with them. He could just about remember playing with Thor all the time, when they were really little, Thor directing their games. It had been only the two of them, and Loki had wanted to be with Thor all the time. He had thought Thor felt the same way.

And then Thor had met his real friends, one or two at a time at Elder Cross. Fandral and Sif both lived in London, so he started playing with them whenever he could. Thor had still liked Loki for a little while, when his friends weren't around, but when they were Sif would sneer that they didn't have time for a baby like Loki, and Thor would laugh at him, too.

And after a while Thor stopped coming to find Loki when his friends had gone, to tell him he didn't mean it, really. And then Thor went to Hogwarts, and when he came home he was too old and important to spend any time at all with his little brother except when he really had nothing else to do. And now, of course, Loki was in the wrong house and his brother would never want anything to do with him ever again.

But Loki was in Hufflepuff now, and that meant Loki wasn't alone anymore, and maybe it didn't matter so much about Thor. Loki still missed him, of course, because Loki was stupid about some things, but the awful cold feeling of knowing nobody liked you, or wanted you around- that feeling was gone. He had wanted Thor and couldn't have him, because just wanting something didn't mean you got to have it. But he had wanted friends of his own, too, and now he had some.

"Loki?" Dad prompted, still wanting his question answered. Loki had lost track of it, and Dad repeated, "Did Thor and his friends ever let you play with them? When you were all younger?"

"No," Loki said, without thinking. It just came out. Thor had put up with Loki when he had no choice, and then when he found some other friends he actually liked he had dropped Loki at once. The fact that had left Loki alone, for years, wasn't Thor's problem.

Mum stroked his hair again, and after a long moment Dad said,

"All right. Your mother and I will speak to your brother, when he comes home tomorrow. He's not allowed to be cruel to you, and this business of being so clannish about houses- that has to be dealt with." Dad sighed. "I don't think there's anything we can do in two weeks to solve all the problems between you two, but we can work on them together. And I think it's best, for now, if you don't try to be around him except when your mother or I are there, too. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Loki said. He didn't say it, but that promise would be easy to keep. It seemed like he was losing the habit of wanting to be around Thor, hoping for notice and friendliness. Thor had found other friends to replace Loki, and now, finally, Loki had found other friends to replace Thor.

And maybe other people he wanted to be like. He had once wanted, very badly, to be like Thor in any way he could. Now he thought maybe he would rather be like Rogers, or Stark, or even Mr. Longbottom who was kind and matter-of-fact and could laugh about being a terrible flyer when he was at school.

Later that evening, Loki went out to the owl room to say goodnight to Bronwyn and promise they would play together tomorrow. He came indoors and started upstairs to get ready for bed.

The door to his father's study was half-open, and as Loki reached that landing he heard Dad's voice saying unhappily:

"He's terrified of me, isn't he?"

Loki froze on the stairs. He was quite sure the he Dad was talking about was himself, and although he knew it was wrong to listen to other people's conversations, he couldn't seem to make his feet move.

Mum's voice, quieter but still easy to hear, replied, "He's afraid of me, too. Or at least he doesn't trust either of us- he seems to always be waiting for one of us to decide he's done something wrong and punish him for it. I don't understand how I've missed noticing that for so long."

"I'd like to know exactly how we've managed to completely lose his confidence like this," Dad said. "I suppose I've always been cold, or too hard on both of them without meaning to be, but I don't understand why he'd be so uneasy around you."

"I've been thinking about that," Mum said. "And I think... our mistake might have been in assuming we ever had his confidence in the first place. Maybe instead of wondering how we lost his trust, we need to ask ourselves what we can do to gain it in the first place. We should have asked that from the beginning. After the start he had in life- "

Loki listened so hard he trembled all over, but his mother said no more about Loki's start in life and what was so bad about it. Instead she said,

"But he loves us, too, and I think he really wants to give us a chance. Don't be too discouraged."

"I don't know why he would," Dad said harshly. "I keep thinking about all those Muggle teachers who told us he seemed lonely, and we just blithely said that was his way, because he never played with Thor and his gang. And we never once asked whether he had choice about that."

"I know," Mum said. "And it would be easy to blame Thor, but- "

"- but we can't fault one child for not raising the other," Dad said. "I never thought I'd be grateful a son of mine wasn't Sorted into Gryffindor, but as highly as I esteem Phil Coulson, I am very glad Loki is under Pomona's eye right now instead. Aside from it probably being healthier to get him right away from Thor, it's good he's in the hands of someone who understands little growing things for once." There was a strange choked sound, and Loki could hear his mother making soothing noises.

And then he felt ashamed of himself (sneak.) As quietly as he could, heart pounding guiltily, Loki crept up the last flight of stairs to his room to get ready for bed. He gave a convincing impression of drowsiness when his mother and father came in later to wish him goodnight, but it was a long time before Loki got to sleep.