Luna often took matters into her own hands. An admirable quality, she got an idea in her head and she ran with it. Rolf followed her back to New York in the early morning hours. Five weeks had passed since the meeting in the kitchen. Rolf went with this haunch she imagined herself as a protector. Transatlantic Apparition proved dangerous and draining in the best of times, and she shared her body with two other people at the moment.
She broke the law. As a rule of thumb, Rolf enjoyed dual citizenship because he was born on American soil. Luna swayed steadying herself by grabbing a Muggle or a No-Maj. Rolf rolled his eyes, If he tried to think one step ahead of Luna and really reached her understanding, he abandoned reason and thought. Shrugging into his grandfather's trusty old peacock blue coat, Rolf reminded himself this, too, was home.
"Don't go down Fifth Avenue. Come on. Damnit." Rolf Disapparated.
What were the chances she'd find a homeless man in New York City? He Apparated again outside of the slums. Luna removed her jewelry, but those Catherine Hathaway heels presented a dead giveaway. Luna walked with a purpose. She performed a Color Changing Charm on her magenta winter coat, turning it charcoal grey and buttoning it up.
"Yeah, you're going to get the flu or pneumonia." Cold in New York wasn't the same in London or Deva. Rolf grabbed Bill Weasley because Charlie got lost in some assignment and got buried in paperwork over a breeding problem. Bill kept close, though he looked like a fish out of water. "This way. The folks outta of Macy's will stampede you."
"That's a really expensive watch," said Bill, watching an investor.
"I wear a Cartier." Rolf had left his watch on his bedside table and dreaded walking into city, any city, on day off. Christmas shoppers scared him half to death, and he hated Black Friday with a passion. Luna either didn't know or didn't care about this. "Where are you going?"
"She looks for carrying twins." Bill commented, speeding up when they spotted Luna check a letter. "She's not in touch with him?"
"I'm going to kill her." Rolf's jaw dropped when she set her wand tip to the paperwork and stamped it out with her foot. She stopped again, asked for directions and a man at a food truck pointed her towards government subsidized housing. Rolf ordered two sauerkraut dogs, handed one to Bill and lost her. "Hey, hotdog guy. You live there?"
"Yeah. I can't chat." The vendor shut up when when Rolf ordered a footlong dog and fries; he handed the chubby little boy a free lunch and paid with a fifty, throwing the change back. "A name. I want an address."
"He's a rich Jew," offered Bill, sipping his drink.
"Frank Joseph. Wojnarski?" Rolf spelt this out following the military alphabet. Mr. Hotdog said no, but Rolf jostled his spot in line. Frank held aliases for his aliases, so this ended up as an awful guessing game. "Barnes? No. Swordsen? Joey …. Francis Dietch!"
Something passed over the vendor's face.
"Francis Dietch. Address!" Rolf scribbled the address on a napkin and raced towards the complex, Bill, impressed Rolf hit the streets like a dog gnawing on a bone, followed him to 105 B. Seamus would've lost it over Rolf making this move. As he approached the apartment, Rolf raised his hand and froze, and this suddenly frightened him. "Yeah, I can't."
"What? Scamander." BIll gripped his shoulders as Rolf started hyperventilating. He suggested they go inside, and Rolf, who heard nothing but his father's harsh, gravelly tone in his head, shook his head vigorously. "No. bad idea. Okay."
Bill conjured a paper bag and opened it. "Dad uses this Muggle remedy. Breathe in and breathe out. Do I need to get Charlie?"
"Can't." Rolf concentrated on his breathing, and Bill walked him over to sit on the curb. Charlie knew everything, absolutely everything, and Rolf knew Bill might've suspected things. Bill parked his butt on the curb and waited like they had all the time in the world. It got easier, thankfully, and Bill rested Rolf's head on his chest until he calmed down. "Thanks."
"Never comforted a pretty American black boy before," said Bill, grinning. Rolf muttered about blowing stuff out of proportion. "Nonsense. Can I share something with you?"
"Yeah." Rolf blinked furiously, smiling when Bill said Arthur Weasley stuck the magizoologist's grandson somewhere in between Charlie and Percy. Bill needed to get a story straight.
"Charlie told me and Tonks this bastard locked you in the bathroom once with ammonia. And made you clean it. Is that true? Yes or no?" Rolf nodded. Bill inhaled deeply and got to his feet. "How old were you?"
"I don't remember, Small." Rolf leaned more on forgetfulness than forgiveness, and this had happened long ago. "You know people must be be licensed to get Crups? Some people simply shouldn't breed."
"No shit. What the hell?" Bill cracked his neck, angry now. "Fleur will never call you crazy, or demented or mad again."
"It's fine. You're not a Scamander if you're not weird." The sides of Rolf's mouth twitched, and he felt better, "Grandpa wrote him out of the will on my tenth birthday as a present. Invited him and everything. Plied him with wine and asked him to not keep in touch. Grandma told him to sign over parental rights and get the hell out."
"Damn, Grandpa and Grandma don't play." Bill snickered, enjoying this happy ending. Rolf, confidant and collected, let Bill pull him to his feet. Bill knocked and asked to see Luna without saying so much as a hello.
Francis wore a jersey over jeans and appeared little more than skin and bone, but he looked like he at least held down a job. His auburn hair got sprinkled with white, and he didn't seem to recognize his son. Luna sat on a leather couch and had bothered to transfigure her expensive shoes. She smiled serenely at Rolf. Francis lived on the bottom and settled for his shabbiness.
"He's going to be a father," said Francis, turning back to Luna. Something like shock or maybe even a trace of fear passed over Luna's features, but she merely rested a hand on her belly. She composed her features, and Rolf noticed she, too, counted the filth in the ashtray. "Who're these people? Friends?"
"Yes," said Luna slowly, frowning when Bill gave the slightest shake of his head. Bill gave his name and introduced Rolf as Mr. Talbot. Francis offered them drinks and asked after Rolf and Luna invented a story. "He's in South America at the moment."
"So close to the birth?" Francis frowned.
"I have the people I need," said Luna lightly, and she shifted when Francis burned through some other substance. Rolf waited for to gag when he rolled with dirty fingers, but Luna declined politely.
"Sounds like me," coughed Francis, "Maybe Old Newt will realize he's nothing more than a bastard. He's just like me."
"He is nothing like you, sir." Luna took an edition of the Daily Prophet, an edition of "100 Most Influential People of 2010" out of her bag, open to Number 33, Mr. Rolf Scamander himself standing on Millenium Bridge examining a Billwig. She still spoke conversationally still, the slightest trace of apparent anger slipping in when Francis switched to colorful language. Bill stayed his hand with difficulty when Francis referred to her as a whore. "I am no whore, sir."
"You're young. Thirty? Opened your legs to gave my bastard an heir?" Francis spat at her. Luna simply stared at him. Rolf, furious, counted in his head.
Tears filled Luna's silvery eyes, but she managed to get to her feet. "Good night, Francis, I think it best we leave this here."
"He's a black bastard. Bet that doesn't help things." Francis always held interest in getting in the last word.
Luna struck him hard in the face. Francis, surprised, for she'd put her weight behind it, cradled his jaw. Bill didn't even bother holding is laughter. "Not that you'd give a damn, Mr. Scamander, your son is extraordinary. He's intelligent, and kind-hearted, and genuinely nothing like the shell of a man … you are nothing. It's been a pleasure. I really hope you find someone."
He gawked at her. "I'm a grandfather."
"They have a grandfather, thank you. Two of them. We're good. I'm good. Your son takes care of me because he loves me. Thank you for the tea." Luna, smiling serenely, strode out of the apartment. Bill astounded at her courage, laughed his head off when they headed down the street. "Newton."
"You can't save him. I told you. I know you have this perfect picture locked in your head." Rolf stopped abruptly when her eyes welled again and her bottom lip trembled. "I'm sorry."
"Bad move," said Bill, warning him too late.
Rolf apologized profusely. "You're going to fall apart now, aren't you?"
Luna nodded. Rolf congratulated himself on being ninety-percent honest all the time. He needed a piece to himself, which is what he supposed Seamus may or may not have meant mixed in the psycho babble. The self-depreciation worked.
"Scamander doesn't know what he's doing. Luna, none of us do at the beginning, okay? Every traveller eventually comes home ... or whatever my dad said whenever Victoire was born. Scamander's, you know Scamander." Bill returned Luna's smile and returned her thumbs up. "Charlie wanted me to pull the big brother thing."
"You're really good at it," said Rolf.
"And Scamander? Own your shit, all right? You are who you are. Who gives a …?" Bill gestured towards the sad, sorry excuse a sperm donor. "You're not him. If you're not Scamander, who the hell are you and when's Scamander coming back?"
"Charlie needs his bromance," translated Luna. Bill high-fived her.
"I'm looking at Bill and hearing Charlie," said Rolf.
"Yeah, well." Bill shrugged this out like it was obvious. "I have six siblings. What's another one? Charlie came crawling to me and said, and I quote, 'Scamander needs to fix his shit before Thing One and Thing Two arrive. Postscript: Luna, that's a compliment. Love you.'"
Luna turned to Rolf and laughed heartily. "He's understanding enough to tag this onto the end."
"Are we good? Because when Charlie pulls a Molly Weasley over …" Bill gestured at all of Rolf. Rolf seriously doubted whether Molly ever placed such a dirty word in her vocabulary. Rolf assured him he was all right.
"You lead a team of researchers?" Bill stopped by smother food grinned when the Scamanders ordered macaroni and cheese. Rolf added a dash of hot sauce to his and shrugged, his mouth full. "Yeah, you run around like a headless hedgehog ...but Luna delivered the friendliest 'I need you to get the hell away from me' I have ever seen. That's an art."
"We're sharing this." Luna put their food together in a takeaway thing and waved goodbye to the vendor. Someone, paparazzi desperate for nibble with the New York Ghostor some other paper like the Massachusetts Bay Chronicle, got in awkward shots. "Rita Skeeter hates me. Why?"
"You don't give a damn." Bill fed her the answer and Luna stuffed her face.
"Your flaws are as endearing as the strengths. I'm busy making life here. We need to save this for later. Black olives and cream cheese." Luna handed Rolf the lid and planned her next snack. Rolf waved at her to continue and purchased things at a corner store on their way up to the apartment. She panted lie a dog, but he didn't care. "It's cold."
"Got it." Stowing the food away, Rolf built a fire by hand and made sure she got comfortable on the couch. Newt had advised him to bend over backwards as they went through the home stretch with the babies. "You want anything?"
Luna patted the spot beside her. Rolf showed Bill the sparsely decorated spare bedroom.
"Rolf." Bill rarely bothered with dropping his first name in casual conversation. "You're okay."
"Thank you." Rolf offered an automatic answer.
"No. I'm serious." Bill clapped his hands on Rolf's shoulders and grimaced, his mauled face handsome still. "You could've… you put your life together and you believe in tending to the hearth. You've got this. You're hearing me, but you're not really hearing me."
"I'm frightened," he admitted.
"I know." Bill embraced him and neither of them said anything for the longest time.