Christmas 1977
The air in the flower shop was thick with a sweet scent of blooming petals and the earthy perfume of fresh greenery as Arlo and Antony, his father, stepped in from the gentle rain falling outside. Soft twinkling lights draped from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the myriad of colorful arrangements. Pulling off his hat and pocketing it, he thought back to when he was a child and came seeking out a bundle to give his mum for Christmas morning. It had been a yearly tradition where he would awkwardly wait for his father. His green eyes passed over the many displays seeing each in their own beauty over the years. This year though, the eighteen year old spent a considerable amount of time wandering throughout the shop, continually drawn to the light purple, lavender bouquets near the window.
"How about these, Charles?" asked Antony, holding out a festive bouquet with green accents surrounding red roses. "Red roses for Christmas, very classic. Mummy would love these!"
Shifting from foot to foot, Arlo's gaze turned to the lavender bouquets, the soft purple blooms swaying slightly as he nudged closer.
"But, Dad, what about this one?" He gestured to the lavender, the delicate blooms catching his eye. Unconsciously, he breathed deeper, the aroma drawing a blank of someone he knew. Someone who wore the scent a lot …. But who? Not his mum, he knew …. Antony raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile creeping onto his face.
"Lavender? It's lovely, but I thought you would want something a bit more festive?"
Arlo squinted at the red roses, then glanced back at the lavender, the thoughts swirling in his mind like snowflakes.
"I just... I think the lavender is pretty," he replied, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
Antony tilted his head, recognizing the stubborn glint in his son's eyes.
"What makes these lavender ones special to you?" he asked gently, setting down the roses to give his son his full attention. Arlo bit his lip, his cheeks slightly flushed.
"I ... I think it just looks so nice. It reminds me of ..." he trailed off, wrinkling his nose, still drawing a blank on who was bringing up these thoughts. "It's different. And it smells good too."
Antony stepped closer to the lavender bouquet, inhaling its calming scent.
"You know, it does have a certain charm," he conceded with a nod, glancing at the price tag. "And mummy's been feeling a bit under the weather lately — we could use that soothing quality as well."
Arlo's face lit up at his father's words, the tension in his shoulders easing.
"Then lavender it is!" exclaimed Antony, shaking his head with a chuckle as Arlo bent over to the bouquet, picking it up with a triumphant grin.
"Okay, Dad, let's get it wrapped up nicely. Mum's going to love it!"
"The best gift, Charles! Let's go make her morning then son," Antony nodded, his heart warming at this small, shared victory.
Several hours later, Arlo nestled deeper into his oversized chair, the plush fabric enveloping him as he cradled his steaming mug of hot chocolate. The rich aroma of cocoa danced delightfully in the air, perfectly complementing the crackling of the logs in the fireplace, which bathed the den in a soft, flickering glow. Outside, the rain continued its gentle patter against the window panes, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the tranquility of the evening. Through the glass, the world appeared a blur of wet streets and glimmering reflections, each droplet merging with the city's Christmas lights and adding to the magical feel of the season.
Arlo took a sip of his hot chocolate, savoring the velvety warmth that spread from his lips to his fingertips. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in faint sounds of laughter drifting from the kitchen. He was content with solitude, the world outside forgotten. His thoughts drifted back to the flower shop. The sight of those delicate purple blooms had stirred something within him, a sweet melancholy that felt almost nostalgic. He couldn't shake the elusive memory of the person whose scent matched the lavender — a fleeting figure slipping through his conscience like mist.
Arlo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his mug cradled between his hands. What was it about that scent that pulled at him? He focused on it, trying to recall where he had smelled it before. But the memory danced just out of reach teasing him with its familiarity. Outside, the rain persisted, the world beyond their cozy den blurred and softened by the sheets cascading down.
"I hope I figure it out," he murmured, taking another sip, feeling the warmth envelop him yet again and the rich scent of chocolate lingered in the air..
dot*
Easter holidays, 1978
The sun had barely breached the horizon when Arlo awoke to the soft, golden light filtering through the tall windows of Ravenclaw Tower. Today marked Hogsmeade move-in day for the Junior Healer placement. As the top select for the Healer program, he requested to work alongside Madam Pomfrey for the next school year. After a brief but productive packing session, he made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast placing his bag neatly at his feet. The reassuring weight provided a sense of calm, allowing him to focus on the day's adventures. The journey felt longer than he had anticipated given the early hour.
Then, suddenly, a figure stepped directly into his path. It was the Hufflepuff he had once dated. With her characteristic warmth, she momentarily caught him off guard with a wide smile. He remembered the laughter and time spent in the library, not studying, but engaging in other activities their fifth year. Though they publicly ended amicably two years ago, Arlo knew that their relationship was jilted with anger mostly aimed at him ending it to focus on their OWLs. At least that was the excuse he issued out heartlessly.
"Arlo!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with a mix of surprise and delight. She gestured over to a small group of Hufflepuffs lingering nearby. "We're getting Butterbeers!"
"Thanks, but I have other plans for today," he replied kindly, trying to maintain a smile as guilt tugged. Her playful tone underscored the invitation as she leaned forward, her expression turning earnest.
"It'd be great to catch up. It's always more fun in a group, you know?"
"Really, I appreciate it," he said, as she stepped closer, running a thin finger down his chest. Stopping her hands over his collar, she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Oh, come on, Arlo…. We could pick up right where we left off. I've missed you."
Her eyes sparkled with mischief and a hint of longing, making it evident that she was not shy about rekindling their past sparks. Caught off guard by her boldness, Arlo took a small step back, feeling the heat of the moment close in around him.
"I ... I have a girlfriend," he stammered, his heart racing. His hand was still wrapped around hers against his collar. She tilted her head, her expression shifting as her brows furrowed slightly.
"Daphne Winters? Since when did she get to claim you? I thought we..."
"We broke up a while ago," he replied, his voice firm yet gentle. "And honestly, I have a personal matter to see to."
He could hear the edge of hurt in his own words. She paused, absorbing the words, and the playful glimmer in her eyes dimmed for just a moment. But then, she shifted back into her flirtatious demeanor, stepping closer again, her voice softening. Her fingers lingered for a moment longer though. Offering a polite smile, hoping it would communicate what he couldn't continue to say outright. Their breakup, though amicable, was laced with resentment and emotions swirling like autumn leaves in the breeze. It took several weeks for her to accept he was no longer interested in continuing a relationship, even so far as him studying in the Central Hall trying to avoid her.
Pausing for a moment, Arlo adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder, feeling its weight transform from a burden to a symbol of his readiness. Today marked not just a visit; it was the beginning of his life outside of Hogwarts. His heart soared as the familiar sights and sounds surrounded him. The spires of the buildings rose against the vibrant spring rebirth, the bustling shops enticing customers, and the scent of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, igniting excitement within him.
Catherine, his mother, looked up as he walked through the doors to the Three Broomsticks, a broad smile lighting up her face.
"Charles?" Her bright green eyes sparkled with affection, a familiar warmth that felt like home. Walking over, they shared a deep hug as Rosemerta tilted her head in confusion. Antony turned, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the light while sharp dark brown eyes hinted at cheekiness still lurking beneath the surface. The man stood and shook his son's hands as his mother looked up, a light mist pooling in her eyes.
"Look who finally graced us with his presence!" he quipped, his voice rich with affection and a touch of playful reprimand. A soft clap on the shoulder made Arlo smile at seeing them so happy and healthy.
"Mum, Dad," Arlo said happily. "It's great to see you both!"
Catherine beamed, her excitement indisputable. She lightly patted Antony's arm. "We just got here! We were telling Joy about your studies. Can't believe it's your last year at Hogwarts!"
"It's amazing," he replied, his heart swelling with pride. "Challenging, but amazing. I can't wait to work with Madam Pomfrey!"
"Good, good!" Antony nodded approvingly. "And speaking of amazing, Charles, how about we take you to see your new home? It's just a short walk."
"Charles?" quipped Rosemerta a moment before Arlo turned away with a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within him.
This was his first real taste of independence, and the thought of setting up his own space felt surreal. The crisp air greeted them, the warm atmosphere of the pub fading into the vibrant bustle.
"Your new place is just up ahead," Catherine said, pointing to a small house at the end of the road. He could feel his heart race with anticipation as he stepped up behind his parents on the front landing. He had been looking forward to this moment, and it felt surreal to finally be here.
"Welcome home!" Antony declared with the turn of the key. It was truly a commitment now.
Antony clapped Arlo on the back with a hearty laugh, gently pulling the bag from his shoulder.
"Charles," he said, expertly unbuckling the straps as he opened the bag wide, the fabric stretching beyond normal limits. "Let's get your things out of here."
"Is that one of those expandable bags?" she asked, stepping closer, intrigue dancing in her voice as she peered into the depths of the bag.
"Yep," Antony affirmed with a knowing smile, looking fondly at Arlo. "You have a lot of things, son!"
"Well, I have a lot of things, Dad!" he replied, laughing a playful smirk appearing on his face. "You know, it's not easy being a student. Surely you remember being at Hogwarts?!"
Antony's eyes twinkled with nostalgia as he leaned against the wall.
"Oh, I remember it well. I was at Hogwarts long before you. In fact I finished in 1909!" He shared a quick laugh tapping his mother's nose, as she rolled her eyes playfully. "Before you were born my dear …."
"Yes, yes. We all know you're practically a relic of the wizarding world," she teased, a grin breaking through her mock annoyance.
Arlo watched with careful eyes as the assortment of items were laid out for inspection. His parents exchanged amused glances, their smiles wide as they stacked textbooks high, withdrew a few potions carefully wrapped, and an assortment of oddities he had collected over the years.
"Books, robes, more books!" Catherine exclaimed, her voice laced with a mix of admiration and exasperation. "It's a wonder you have any room for yourself in here!"
"Trust me, Mum, everything in here is essential!" Arlo defended playfully. "Even the extra cauldron — I may need it, you never know!"
"Good luck fitting that into your little kitchen!" teased Antony placing it on the only available counter.
With their laughter echoing through the apartment, Arlo felt a warm wave of happiness wash over him. This was a new home, and every moment with his parents made it even more special as they prepared to settle him in for the year ahead.
"Dad, what did you do after Hogwarts?" he asked, taking the seat opposite. Antony chuckled, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his face as he ate his lunch. Before answering, he took a long sip of tea.
"Well, I excelled in my studies. I did well enough to join the Ministry," he reminisced, memories dancing in his eyes. "Eventually, I became an Auror — protecting the wizarding world from dark forces. I actually met your mother when she was sixteen in '43."
"What happened?" Arlo asked softly, the flickering firelight capturing his wide-eyed interest. Antony settled into his armchair, the warmth of nostalgia mingling with a twinge of concern.
"I was part of a small team and we were investigating this strange and unusual activity at Hogwarts. It was a rough few months as several students were injured by the beast of the Chamber of Secrets. Legend says that the beast could only be released by the Heir of Slytherin and it indeed killed a student. A young Ravenclaw named Myrtle Warren," he began, his voice steady yet distant, as if sifting through a fog of memories.
"I thought you said that Mum was a Muggle –" began Arlo looking at his hands confused.
"She is. But as an Auror, we were each instructed to investigate every single Slytherin that year. One student that stood out was a boy named Tom Riddle. He and your mother were at the orphanage together."
Arlo's brow furrowed. "At an orphanage? Mum was an orphan!?"
"Keep your voice down!" Antony urged, nodding slowly. "She's spoken of him often — how he exuded charm that masked a deeper contempt for those he considered inferior. To him, she was an easy target for his arrogance."
Antony leaned forward, the firelight illuminating his face. "That summer after the girl died, his demeanor had shifted dramatically. I was told much later, he approached Catherine with a mix of mockery and challenge, taunting her about her 'ordinary life' and her refusal to acknowledge his superiority as a wizard. Naturally Catherine thought he was mad."
"Wait, what did he do to Mum?" Arlo's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face.
"He would tease her, belittle her aspirations," Antony said, his voice somber. "Riddle confronted her, flaunting the magic he possessed and insisting she could never understand his world. I remember her telling me how unfair it seemed that he would play with her emotions simply to assert his dominance."
Arlo leaned in closer, his heart racing. "Did she ever fight back?"
"In her own way, yes," Antony replied, his fists clenching slightly as the memory replayed in his mind. "She refused to be intimidated by him. He may not have physically harmed her, but the psychological …. Catherine was unaware that someone like Riddle could wield such cruelty without a second thought but his magic was unusually strong for such a young man. There was a darkness to him I remember. I talked to Albus about him and offered my words of warning."
Arlo shivered at the thought. "Did he become a dark wizard? And what about Mum?"
"Your mum was unofficially adopted by a family in London who took a liking to her," Antony explained, his voice softening as he remembered the stories Catherine had shared. "They were a warm-hearted couple who had lost their own children in the Muggle war and wanted to offer a home to a child in need. They provided her with the kind of love and support that the orphanage never could, giving her a chance to flourish. It changed her life. I don't know what came of Riddle, other than he was Head Boy and then disappeared off the map."
Arlo paused, reflecting on how important that family had been for Catherine. "But even with that support, the psychological scars would have remained Dad. No child, magic or Muggle, should have to endure that kind of pressure, especially not from someone who thought himself above them all."
As Arlo listened to his father's story, he couldn't help but reflect on the intertwining of their lives. A quiet reverence filled him as he considered how his father had once stood at the threshold of danger, protecting a girl who would one day become his wife. What must have gone through Antony's mind back then, as he observed this poised, defiant young woman confronting someone like Tom Riddle? It was as if, in a single, fateful moment, Antony's path had been forever altered — leading him to Catherine and ultimately forming their own family. Their love story was a testament to strength, resilience, and the serene power of unconditional support.
Yet here Arlo was, on the brink of stepping boldly into his own future as a healer, grappling with the notion of family in his own life. Just that morning, as he packed, a familiar flutter of uncertainty stirred within him. He thought about Daphne, the warmth of her smile and the zest for life that made everything feel more vivid. She was everything he could wish for in a partner: supportive, ambitious, and utterly enchanting. Her letter had arrived just last night, thin and neatly folded, resting beside his textbooks. In it, she expressed her heartfelt dreams for their future — a big family filled with laughter and love, the kind of life she envisioned for them. Arlo had read her words more than once, each time feeling an uneasy tug in his chest with each new read. He respected her desires and could see the vivid picture she crafted, full of children playing in sun-dappled gardens, and Sunday dinners overflowing with laughter. But deep down, he couldn't shake the apprehension that stirred with the thought of such a future. He had promised her, time and again, that becoming a healer was his singular focus for now — a commitment that demanded time, energy, and mental clarity. Daphne appeared to repeatedly ignore those dreams he had.
"Charles?" His father's voice broke through his absentmindedness, drawing him back from his contemplation. "You alright, son?"
"Yeah, just…" he began, trying to find the right words. The weight of his father's story mixed with his own worries hung heavily between them. "I was just thinking about… how everything connects."
Antony regarded him, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his dark eyes.
"Do you ever wish you'd made different choices?" asked Arlo, the question laden with the weight of unending possibilities. "Like, had you stayed solely an Auror?"
Antony shook his head firmly. "No, not at all. Each choice led me to your mum. Every decision we make intertwines with the next, contributing to who we become. Sometimes it's messy, but it's all part of the journey. Just remember, while priorities change, love and family are anchors that can guide you through stormy seas."
Antony paused, the weight of the past settling heavily in the room as Arlo looked up at his father in concern. The flames crackled softly in the hearth, but an uneasy tension hung in the air.
"I need to tell you something important, Charles," he said, his tone turning serious. Arlo, sensing the shift in his father's demeanor, sat up straight.
"What is it?" he asked curiously.
"Dark wizards are rising once more," Antony said, his voice low as he turned around, looking to ensure their privacy. "Lord Voldemort. His followers are gathering, and he's hungry for power. The wizarding world is on the brink of war, and it's only a matter of time before something big happens."
Arlo's heart raced, the magnitude of his father's words sinking in. "What does that mean for us?"
"It means we must be vigilant," Antony replied, leaning forward, a determined fire in his eyes. "Your time at Hogwarts will come to an end soon, and we cannot take for granted the safety it has provided. To protect you and our home, I've cast protective spells and charms all over the family home and this one."
"What kind of protection?" Arlo asked, uncertainty bubbling within him. "Is that the charm I passed through when I walked in?"
"Yes. Strong wards against dark magic, charms to conceal our home, and enchantments to alert us should any danger come near," Antony explained, sincerity etched into his features. "It will keep us safer, but there are no guarantees. Your mother and I can't risk losing you."
Arlo took in his father's solemn expression, the desperation in his voice wrapping around him like a cloak. "Dad, I—"
"Listen to me, Charles," Antony interrupted gently but firmly. "I can't always protect you, but I will do my damndest to ensure your safety as long as I live. The world is changing, and you need to be prepared for what lies ahead. You have a strength I can't always define, but you must harness it wisely. Trust few and make sure you are trusting the right people."
"Does Mom know any of this?" Arlo asked, the weight of responsibility settling upon him. It didn't feel very comforting.
"I've kept her out of it for now," Antony said, frowning. "She's been through enough, and I want to shield her from the darkness of the wizarding world as best as I can. As much as I want to shield you from all harm, I can't shield you from the truth."
Arlo nodded, steeling himself at his father's words.
"I understand. I get it. I want to help, too." Antony reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Dad? What happens when we face this darkness? How do we protect those we care about?"
Antony's expression softened, the corners of his mouth turning upward with a hint of understanding. "We teach them. Just as I'm teaching you. We prepare them for the realities of our world while instilling in them the values we hold dear. But understand this: fear cannot dominate your decisions. That fear, if allowed to grow, will cloud your clarity. You cannot live your life in panic of what's to come."
"I get that, but…" Arlo's voice trailed off, uncertainty curling around his words. "It's difficult when all I want is to focus on healing and helping others — but this is real, a real problem when she wants to bring a child into the world on the edges of war."
Arlo took a deep breath, contemplating his father's suggestion. The urge to protect those he loved from the turmoil was strong. A proud smile creased Antony's face as finally he nodded at his father, feeling a newfound sense of clarity wash over him. He didn't have to choose one over the other; he could find a balance, a way for both his career and his relationships to thrive even amidst uncertainty. The battle ahead would require strength, yes, but it would also require love—a belief in brighter tomorrows forged through connection and resilience.
"Thank you," said Arlo softly, his heart swelling with gratitude for his father's wisdom. "For everything."
Antony squeezed his shoulder, the warmth of family grounding him as they faced an uncertain world together.
dot*
The weekend before returning from Easter holiday, Arlo was nestled in the comfort of his Hogsmeade cottage, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating his surroundings. The crackling fire added warmth to the air, and the faint sound of music floated through the living room, weaving a sense of coziness.
Yet, despite the tranquil atmosphere, Arlo was lost in thought, his mind wandering restlessly over the recent news that had taken him by surprise: Emily had welcomed her baby girl into the world.
Dearest Arlo,
I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I wanted to take a moment to reach out to you, not just as a friend but as someone who holds a special place in my heart. Sirius and I are over the moon with the arrival of our precious daughter, Aurora. As we navigate the beautiful chaos of becoming parents, one topic that kept resurfacing is the significance of godparents. We have thought long and hard about who we want to play a guiding role in Aurora's life, and after discussing it, we unanimously agree that you are the perfect choice as her godfather.
You see, we both believe that she deserves someone who truly understands the meaning of love, support, and responsibility. You embody those qualities so naturally. Your calm demeanor and thoughtfulness make you an ideal godfather for her. We trust that you will guide her, love her, and be there for all the important moments in her life—big and small.
I know this is no small commitment, but I genuinely believe you are the right person for the role. If you choose to accept, you'll not only have a special bond with Aurora but you'll also become an important part of our little family.
Please take your time to think about it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!
With love,
Emmy
Oh, my…. Emmy had the baby….
Arlo was dumbfounded. He reread the letter several times in his favorite oversized armchair, the serene calmness of the cottage shattered momentarily by the bustling thoughts swirling in his head. He felt a mixture of pride and apprehension for Emily and her journey into motherhood. He knew she would be a wonderful parent; her nurturing spirit and unwavering strength could only be matched by her laughter and lightness. Even so, he couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation regarding the challenges she may face.
Suddenly a strong smell of lavender surrounded him. It caused him to open his eyes wide in shock. With a sudden impulse, he scrambled to his desk, shoving aside a clutter of potion notes and lists of contacts from St. Mungo's, searching for something tangible to ground him. Finally, his fingers found a small, weathered box hidden beneath the chaos. Flipping it open revealed a collage of colorful trinkets — the remnants filled with small, cherished memories: plant samples collected in Herbology, the delicate bracelets they had made for fun, and hastily drawn doodles of their favorite plants. But one item caught his breath — a small jar of homemade lavender-scented lotion Emily had gifted him nearly a year ago.
He lifted the jar slowly, breathing in the calming fragrance, and felt the room transform around him — suddenly, he was enveloped in the scent of the blooming greenhouses. The memories came rushing back: Emily laughing as she twisted her hair into a messy bun, the warm breeze carrying her joy, and the leisurely afternoons they spent crafting flower crowns, the simple yet delightful act that had filled him with a sense of enchantment. For a Ravenclaw like him, it was unexpected, yet he cherished every moment spent in her company, her spirit igniting a light within him.
Arlo stood back up, a gentle smile creeping onto his face as he held the jar tightly. The familiar warmth spread through him, igniting thoughts of Emily and the bond they shared. He could feel it deep within, an enchanting feeling that unfurled like moonlight illuminating shadows. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander into daydreams punctuated with vibrant colors and gentle laughter. He envisioned her bright smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke, and how her very presence could turn mundane moments into remarkable adventures. Yet, despite the solace of this memory and the festive cheer surrounding him, the echoes of a pivotal moment in their friendship loomed large in his mind.
He recalled how the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of them and that kiss shared after Valentine's Day. Traces of both exhilaration and uncertainty had unfolded like a beautifully orchestrated symphony. The intensity building as they leaned in closer, hearts racing in unison. It had been soft, tentative, yet charged with a promise. Her breath, slightly shaky, mirrored his own nerves as their lips met—a delicate brush that seemed to suspend time itself. In that heartbeat, every worry he had been holding onto melted away; a blissful shroud engulfed them in warmth and possibility.
He could still feel the electric thrill coursing through him now months later. It had been a milestone in their friendship, an acknowledgment of their deeper emotions that had long been tangled like the vines in the greenhouse. The moment had been exhilarating, yet it left him grappling with questions. But as he had gazed into her sparkling eyes, faced with the truth of their connection, those fears began to dissipate, replaced by a longing to explore the vast expanse of what lay ahead. He fondly recalled being grounded as he had looked down at her swollen stomach. It hadn't been Daphne to pause him, but Sirius ….
The gentle chiming of the clock interrupted his thoughts, reminding him that the return to Hogwarts was tomorrow. Sighing, he replaced the lavender lotion on his desk, resolved to embrace whatever came next. Despite the complexities of their friendship, now more nuanced than ever, he knew that no matter what path lay ahead, he would always cherish the bond they shared. As he settled into the embrace of the evening, with music playing softly around him, Arlo felt a quiet reassurance. When he thought of Emily and the joys of her new life, he found solace in knowing that regardless of where their relationship would lead, the love they had cultivated would be a part of him always, and he would be there for her, whatever adventures awaited them both.
dot*
Late May, 1978
As Arlo strolled along the charming streets of Hogsmeade, the warm sunlight illuminated everything in a soft, golden hue through overcast clouds. It was the kind of day that hinted at the awakening of summer, the warm rays wherever it could. He couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling within him, a prelude to the freedom that awaited him after the looming NEWTs. However, it was his gaze that landed on Emily, standing just outside the shop, that truly caught him off guard. At first, he merely registered her presence amid the bustle of shoppers, but as his eyes lingered, she was seen in a new light.
Emily was balancing an array of baby items in her arms, and somehow, her demeanor had transformed in the past few months. There was a glow about her, a radiance that came from the deep love she had for her newborn daughter. Her face was softer, but her posture was more confident, exuding an aura of resilience that previously seemed buried under the pressures of school and budding adulthood. The familiar marks of fatigue were there, but they painted a more complete picture of a mother devoted to nurturing her child.
As he observed her from a distance, he noted how she interacted with the shopkeepers, her laughter bright and infectious, illuminating the joy she found in the simplest moments. There was a newfound warmth in her smile, a depth that spoke of sleepless nights filled with cooing lullabies and the joy of tiny fingers wrapping around hers. Arlo realized how much that transformative experience had molded her; she was not just a friend but a mother now.
His heart swelled with admiration. It was as if he were seeing Emily for the first time, not just the spirited friend he had grown up with, but as a loving, nurturing figure who had taken on a new role in life. The change was beautiful, and Arlo felt a mixture of pride and protectiveness for her and the little life she had brought into the world. This moment of revelation hit him hard, and he felt inspired to step forward. It wasn't just the friendship they shared anymore; it was about future memories—laughter-filled afternoons and the kind of bond that would make them both better people.
"EMMY!" he called out, his voice light and full of excitement as he took a few quick steps closer. He couldn't help but feel that whatever challenges lay ahead — both in his own life and in hers — they would navigate them together, side by side, growing in friendship just as she was growing in motherhood.
Emily looked up and let out a wide smile as she pushed back a stray lock of hair.
"Arlo! It's so good to see you!" she exclaimed, her arms laden with colorful baby clothes and tiny accessories. "I'm just picking up a few things for Aurora. Can you believe she's already nearly two months old?"
"It feels like just yesterday we were all worried and excited when we found out you were expecting," he chuckled, glancing at the heap of baby items and his heart swelled with affection. "How is motherhood treating you?"
"It's wonderful, but a handful!" Emily replied, her eyes sparkling with both joy and the hint of exhaustion that every new parent knows too well. "She's perfect, but sometimes I wonder if I signed up for a never-ending game of 'guess what I need next.'"
Arlo nodded, remembering the frantic late-night conversations they'd had just weeks earlier when she'd been preparing for Aurora's arrival to Hogwarts. "Well, if you ever need help with anything, you know I'm just up in Ravenclaw Tower or here on the weekends."
"I know but I've not been staying in Gryffindor lately. Professor Dumbledore set up a room for us near the kitchens. A house elf helps me a bit."
Arlo chuckled at Emily's response, the casual banter bringing back a warmth he'd missed in their more recent conversations.
"Sometimes, it feels like I'm in my own little place, just nestled in with a very needy little lion," she teased back, glancing down affectionately at the bundles in her arms. "But honestly, having Aurora has changed everything. I feel like I'm discovering a new side of myself every day."
Arlo nodded, his expression earnest. "You're doing an amazing job, Emmy. Just look at you!"
He gestured toward her radiant face, as she momentarily glanced at a cheerful blue outfit that had caught her eye in the shop window beside them.
"I mean, you're practically glowing! Whatever's in those late-night baby snacks, I could use some right before my NEWTs."
"Are you still stuck on Potions?" she inquired, her brow furrowing with mock concern. "I thought all that Healer training would have helped you by now!"
"I think I've overcome that enough!" He laughed lightly, leaning against the shop front window. "Still, I can't help but think my biggest test will be in the coming weeks —figuring out how to be an excellent godfather while cramming for exams."
"About that," Emily said, her tone suddenly shifting to something more serious, though still laced with joy. "Have you thought about it? Being Aurora's godfather?"
Arlo felt a rush of warmth flood his chest at the thought. He had agreed without hesitation when Emily had first asked him weeks ago, but now it felt much more real. The awareness that he was actually looking at his goddaughter was profound. He glanced at the small bundle wrapped in soft fabric in Emily's arms.
Aurora was a vision of innocence and beauty, even at just two months old. Her tiny face was framed by a halo of soft, black curls that danced playfully around her head, reminiscent of her father's wild hairstyle. They had a texture that promised warmth, and Arlo couldn't help but imagine the day when those curls would bounce with every little step she'd take. Her hazel gray eyes, a vibrant fusion of Emily's bright gaze and her father's spirited charm, sparkled with curiosity, just waiting for the world to unfold before her.
Arlo reached out, his hands trembling slightly with excitement and tenderness, taking care to cradle Aurora with the utmost reverence. As he held her in his arms for the first time, he was taken aback by how delicate she felt — like a feather that could be swept away by the gentlest of winds. Her small frame fit perfectly against him, the warmth radiating from her tiny body grounding him in the moment. Adjusting his hold, she let out a wide yawn, her little mouth stretching and her round cheeks puffing adorably. He couldn't help but grin; it was like witnessing a little star being born into the universe, revealing all its beauty in a single moment.
Almost instinctively, Aurora cuddled closer against his chest, seeking comfort in his embrace. Then, to his delight, she broke into a sudden, unguarded smile—one that lit up her face like sunshine breaking through clouds. It was a genuine smile that seemed to encapsulate joy in its purest form, and Arlo's heart soared at the sight. There was something magical about the way she sighed contentedly, a gentle sound escaping her as she nestled into him.
"Look at that," he whispered, eyes twinkling with wonder. "She really does know how to steal hearts already." He felt utterly enchanted, as if the world outside had blurred into a soft murmur, leaving only the three of them in this cocoon of warmth and love. Emily's gaze softened as she watched them.
"I think she knows when someone's meant to be part of her life," she said gently, her voice proud yet tinged with sweetness. "You'll be a wonderful godfather, Arlo."
As Aurora cooed softly, Arlo felt a rush of determination swell within him. He knew he had taken on a role that extended beyond just a title; he was pledging to nurture and support both Emily and Aurora, to be there for them through challenges and joys alike. In that moment, everything else — the stress of exams, the uncertainties of his career and the future — faded away, leaving only this beautiful bond they were beginning to forge.
"Whatever she needs, you know I'll be there," he promised, his voice a fierce whisper.
With a content sigh, Aurora nestled deeper into Arlo's embrace, and he marveled at how this tiny being had somehow tugged at his heartstrings so profoundly. He pressed a tender kiss to her tiny forehead, imprinting that moment in his memory forever, solidifying the promise of a bond that would grow stronger with every smile, every laugh, and every fleeting moment to come.
"Thank you," said Emily quietly, her eyes bright with genuine gratitude. "I just ... I want her to grow up surrounded by good people, and you're one of the best I know."
"Consider it a promise," Arlo chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair, feeling the weight of his set responsibilities just pleasantly shift as he embraced this new role. A thought struck him, melding with the movement of excitement in his chest. "Speaking of wisdom, what else do you need for little Aurora? I want to help."
"Oh, just the usual. Nappies, some toys, and a couple summer outfits," she admitted, adjusting her grip on the baby items as she gestured toward the shop with the window display. "And maybe a bucket of patience?"
"That, I'm afraid, is out of stock for now." Arlo winked, but his heart swelled with eagerness to brighten her day. "Let me carry her or something for you! I can't let you juggle everything while you've already got so much in your arms."
As they meandered through the charming streets of Hogsmeade, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows that danced along the cobblestone paths. Arlo felt buoyant, the playful banter with Emily filling him with warmth, and Aurora's soft weight against him only heightened that joy. It was as if they were weaving a tapestry of laughter and love together, each thread entwining their lives further. Arriving at his quaint cottage, he welcomed Emily inside with a flourish, flicking his wrist in an exaggerated bow.
"Welcome to my humble abode! Please, make yourself comfortable while I prepare you some tea — none of that goblet nonsense from the Great Hall!"
Emily shook her head, a teasing smile lighting up the dimly lit entrance. She placed Aurora carefully on a soft, cushioned chair, where they had just set up a cozy little corner for her.
Arlo hurried to the kitchen, grateful for the brief moment of solitude as he focused on making their tea. The kettle began to whistle on the stove, its piercing sound echoing through the quiet cottage. As he measured out the leaves, a restless breeze stirred outside, rustling the trees and bringing with it the scent of impending rain. Just as the kettle quieted, the first drops began to patter against the window panes, quickening into a steady rhythm soon after. Pouring the steaming liquid into two mugs, inhaling the rich aroma as he added a splash of milk and a sprinkle of sugar.
"Tea is served!" he announced as he returned to the living room, placing a mug before Emily and another on the small table near Aurora's seat.
"Thank you," she said with a grin, wrapping both hands around her mug to warm herself. "You know, this just might be the best tea in all of Hogsmeade!"
"I'm glad you approve!" he laughed, claiming his seat beside her. He stole a glance at Aurora, who had settled into a peaceful slumber, her tiny frame rising and falling rhythmically with each little breath.
"And this little lady — she's a natural at napping," he murmured, marveling at how effortlessly the innocence of a child could bring peace to a home.
Emily's smile softened as she looked at her daughter, pride shining in her features. "She takes after her father," she said, the playful tone still hovering in her voice. "Her father could sleep through anything."
Just as she spoke, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room, quickly followed by a rumble of thunder that reverberated like a drum roll. The rain drummed against the roof with increasing fervor, each drop a testament to the storm brewing outside. In the dancing shadows flickered by candlelight, Arlo felt a surge of contentment mixed with anticipation. Moments like this were rare treasures; sharing tea, laughter, and the quiet presence of a cherished friend and her child—it felt like a promise of more good things to come. Nestled comfortably on one end of the couch, the warm glow of the flickering candles cast a soft halo around him. The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the windows was comforting, a reminder that the world outside was chaotic. Emily had settled in beside him, leaning against his arm with a gentle familiarity that felt warm and reassuring.
He could feel soft strands of hair brush against his wrist, and he found himself absentmindedly playing with it, twirling the silken locks between his fingers. It was a soothing distraction, a way to ground himself amidst the stirrings of emotions that their proximity ignited. Every moment spent together felt significant, yet there was an undercurrent of awareness in the air, a gap between camaraderie and something more that seemed to thrum with possibility.
"Is this okay?" Emily murmured softly, glimpsing up at him with her hazel-gray eyes, a trace of uncertainty flitting across her face.
"Definitely," he replied, his voice steady and warm, his heart fluttering at the softness of the moment. "I thought you might need a little comfort with this weather. I remember you don't particularly like thunderstorms."
A small smile spread across her lips, dissolving the last remnants of doubt. She nestled closer, resting her head against him, relishing the camaraderie wrapped in the safe space they had carved out amidst the storm. The contact between them felt electric, and Arlo had to remind himself to breathe slowly as he focused his attention on Aurora. The tiny babe remained peacefully asleep, her little chest rising and falling rhythmically beneath the soft fabric of her blanket. Marveling at how quiet and serene she appeared, the beautiful contrast to the tempest occurring just beyond the walls of his cottage. He stroked Emily's hair gently, allowing the soothing motion to ease the tension that had gathered in his chest.
"How's your tea?" he asked, hoping to draw them back to lighter banter, a safe place from the sudden charge of intimacy in the air.
"It's perfect," she replied, her voice slightly muffled against his arm. "Just the right amount of warmth."
Arlo chuckled, his hand instinctively tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Kind of like your cozy company," he said lightly, earning him a playful nudge from Emily.
"You're lucky I like you," she shot back teasingly, but they both knew there was more to be said.
With every word, every glance shared, Arlo felt a burgeoning connection that once teetering on the edge. The tantalizing possibility hung in the air between them. He could sense the shy longing in the way she looked at him, and the warmth of her body against his grounded him and sent his heart racing at the same time. Just as he settled into the comfort of their cozy moment, a deep rumble of thunder rolled through the sky outside, shaking the walls of his cottage. It was as if the storm bore witness to the emotions brewing within the room, intensifying the atmosphere that enveloped them both. He sensed a subtle shift in Emily's demeanor, a shadow that flitted across her face even as she remained nestled against him. It was a sadness that didn't fit with the warmth of the moment, and his instincts kicked in. He had always been attuned to Emily's nuances of emotion; he couldn't let it rest lightly between them.
"Hey, Emmy," he began gently, his voice barely above the sound of the rain, "is everything okay?"
She sighed softly, pulling a bit away to look up at him, her hazel-gray eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"No. It's just … sometimes I forget how everything can feel so heavy," she admitted, her voice wavering as she spoke. "I thought after everything that happened, things would get easier once she was born."
Arlo's heart sank as the weight of her words settled in. He paused, searching for the right way to navigate the delicate pieces of her emotions.
"What do you mean? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he added quickly, though he wanted nothing more than to understand what was happening inside her.
She took a shaky breath, and it felt like the storm outside intensified in response to her vulnerability.
"After we shared that kiss at the Christmas Ball…" She hesitated, memories flickering in her eyes like shadows cast by the candlelight.
"I was filled with so much hope. But then… then I followed Pettigrew. I found Black with Cosette Amory. I thought maybe things were changing for us like maybe we were announcing our child together."
Her voice broke just slightly, the heaviness of her heart palpable in each word.
"The last thing I expected was to find them — together! In the most intimate way. It broke me."
Tears began to trace soft paths down her cheeks, glowing softly in the candlelight as her sadness seeped into the air like the rain that battered against the windows.
"I was so lonely and heartbroken. I felt like all of my dreams were crashing down around me."
Arlo frowned deeply, anger swelling within him at the thought of what Emily had gone through.
"I'm so sorry, Emmy," he whispered, pulling her closer, seeking to provide solace in his embrace. The storm outside seemed to mirror the turmoil inside her heart—a battle raging that he had only begun to comprehend.
"I ran away," she continued, her voice barely over a whisper. "I tried to find you, but I couldn't. It felt like I was lost. I ended up finding David, and—" she paused, her expression shifting. "I'd been staying in the Slytherin common room until Aurora was born."
Arlo shifted to face her, heartache twisting in his chest.
"You've been in Slytherin?" he asked, disbelief woven through his words. "Emily, that must have been difficult. You could have come to Ravenclaw! I searched for you too. I finally went to bed around two in the morning. I slept terribly on the train home for the holidays. Mum and Dad were so worried, I had to get checked out at St. Mungos."
She nodded slowly, her brow furrowing as she recalled the days spent in Slytherin. "It was strange, being among people I didn't connect with while mourning the loss of what I thought I had," Emily admitted, her voice trembling slightly.
"Still the dungeons are not the warmest of places in the castle."
"David has been nice, kind even, but... it only made me realize how much I miss you and … what we had over Valentine's."
Thunder cracked fiercely outside, causing Aurora to stir slightly in her sleep, but Arlo felt the heaviness in the room shift. He reached for Emily's hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, seeking a connection that felt more significant than mere companionship.
"Emmy, I want you to know that I'm here for you through all of this," he told her, sincerity pouring from his heart. "You don't have to go through this alone. We can figure it out together."
With a shaky breath, Emily met his gaze, her eyes glistening like the rain-slicked windows behind her.
"I want that," she murmured, her voice cracking. "I really do. It's just been so hard to heal. To reconcile everything…"
In that moment, Arlo saw the depth of her pain, a storm of grief tumultuous yet meticulously hidden away until now. He wished to take away her suffering, but he knew healing was a process that couldn't be rushed or volunteered. He shifted closer, his heart pounding in his chest as the weight of the moment wrapped around them like a warm blanket. With a tenderness that felt both natural and electrifying, he cupped Emily's cheek in his hand, his thumb brushed softly against her skin.
"Emmy," he murmured, locking his gaze with hers, "you're not alone in this. I'll always be here, no matter how long it takes."
He could see the tension slowly dissipating from her expression, her eyes shimmering softly as if they were revealing the depths of her heart, laid bare before him in that fragile space. Drawing her closer into his embrace, Arlo felt her breath hitch as he brought her gently against his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady and reassuring. Her hazel-gray eyes grew soft as she nestled against him, finding solace in the warmth of his body. It felt so right, so instinctual; like coming home after being away for far too long. The storm raged loudly outside, but within the confines of his cozy cottage, they existed in a bubble that felt untouched by chaos.
"I don't want to feel heavy anymore," she whispered, her voice a mere breath as it met his collarbone.
"Then let me lighten the load," he replied softly. With that, she bent down slightly, bringing his lips closer to hers, pausing for just a heartbeat to measure the distance between them, to sense the willingness. In that fraction of a second, time stretched around them, his heart racing with both the trepidation and the sweetness of the moment. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, could see the way her breath quickened in anticipation.
Then, as if a silent agreement passed between them, Arlo closed the gap. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, hesitant at first, as if the storm outside demanded them to tread softly, to savor each lingering moment.
The kiss deepened, a soft mingling of warmth and comfort. It was a kiss that spoke of understanding, of shared burdens and whispered dreams. Emily melted against him, the tension draining away completely as if he held the ability to erase the sorrow she bore. When they finally pulled away, both slightly breathless, his hands lingered at her waist, his thumb brushing gently along her hip. He gazed into her eyes, searching for any trace of doubt that might remain, but all he found was the glimmer of something sacred ignited between them.
"See?" he said with a soft smile, his voice low. "You're not alone anymore."
Emily held his gaze, her cheeks radiant even in the flickering candlelight, her expression slowly transforming from sorrow into a tender smile.
"Yes, we are," she replied softly, her voice like a melody in the quiet of the storm.
In this intimate space, with the soft sounds of rain echoing outside and Aurora sleeping peacefully nearby, Arlo felt a profound certainty solidifying between them. The rhythmic pattering of raindrops against the window created a cocoon of serenity, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. With Emily nestled beside him, her breath a soothing lullaby, Arlo's gaze drifted over the serene contours of her face. It felt surreal to have witnessed her journey from vulnerability to strength, and in this moment, he couldn't help but marvel at the beauty she brought to the world. The tension that had once clenched her chest unraveled, replaced by a deep-seated contentment that anchored him, making the storm outside seem diminutive, just a distant rumble.
As the storm continued to rage outside, Arlo found himself standing at the threshold of his bedroom. The candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow that illuminated the cozy room where Emily and Aurora lay nestled together under the blankets. The sight of them brought a wave of serenity washing over him, and he felt a deep-rooted instinct to ensure they were perfectly comfortable before he withdrew. Taking a moment to admire them, Emily's features were softened by the gentle light that casted shadows across her face. She looked peaceful, wrapped in the warmth of his personal blankets and the weight of sleep was evident. Aurora, content in her mother's embrace, breathed softly, her cherubic face serene in slumber, completely oblivious to the turmoil outside.
Arlo stepped closer to the edge of the bed, his heart fluttering with an unarticulated tenderness. He wanted nothing more than for them to feel safe and cherished, to know that regardless of how fierce the storm was beyond these walls, here they were cocooned in their own universe—a haven where love and security reigned.
"Here," he whispered, his voice a soft caress, as he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Emily's ear, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The tender gesture was as much about assurance as it was about intimacy. "I'll always be yours, Emmy."
His fingers brushed against her cheek, a gesture meant to convey the swelling affection in his heart. He wanted to imprint this moment into his memory—the way she looked as she fell into sleep, the soft rise and fall of Aurora's tiny form against her. It was a picture of pure tranquility, one that he wished could last forever.
But as the storm and night raged on, he knew he couldn't stay too long; he wanted to give them space to rest. With a soft sigh, he allowed himself to step back, reluctantly breaking that intimate connection, feeling the gentle pull of reality urging him to return to the living room. The sound of the rain remained within the cocoon of his home. Stepping away from the threshold, he felt a flicker of regret, wishing to remain in the moment. Yet, he also carried with him a deep sense of peace, knowing they were safe and sound together. It wasn't just about protecting them from the storm; it was about being a part of the warmth and love that surrounded them.
"Don't," came softly, the steadiness of Emily's voice surprising yet compelling. She shifted slightly, her body twisted to look up at him. "Don't go, Arlo. Please?"
Arlo hesitated, caught off guard by the firmness that laced her tone, but more so by the vulnerability shining through her earnest gaze. The suggestion of leaving her alone, even for a moment, tugged at him in a way that felt almost wrong
"Alright," he relented softly, a smile breaking across his lips, as bright as the flickering candlelight around them. "I guess I can make an exception for a little while longer."
Gently wrapping both Emily and Aurora in his arms while lying over the blanket, his body a protective shield around them. It brought back memories of his father's words as he nestled his head against her shoulder, breathing in the soothing scent of her hair. Lavender, like he knew it should have remembered. The storm continued its symphony outside, but within their cocoon, a sense of tranquility reigned.
Time became a nebulous concept marked only by the soft rise and fall of their breaths. Arlo felt the beat of his heart slow, his worries melting away. He was lost in the magic of the moment, the connection simmering between them like a promise yet to be fulfilled. Checking his wrist for the time, almost an hour had drifted by unnoticed. But Emily had long fallen asleep, but for him, he couldn't, too afraid to leave the delicate warmth surrounding them.
With a soft sigh, he placed a gentle kiss on Emily's forehead, allowing the lingering warmth of his lips to impart his affection silently. Slowly, he began to untangle himself, careful not to disturb either of them. As he moved, he reveled in the peaceful tableau they had created—a sanctuary filled with love and promise, shielded from the storm raging outside.
He drew back just enough to give them space but lingered for a moment, gazing at them in their quiet repose. The sight of Emily cradling Aurora, both so serene and content, filled his heart with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Each passing moment solidified the realization that this connection—this love—was a refuge, a sanctuary against the chaos of the world.
Finally, with one last lingering glance over his shoulder, he stepped into the adjacent room, his heart swelling with hope and love, carrying the echoes of their shared intimacy into the night. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside his cottage, they remained safely ensconced in their world, cocooned in warmth and tender promises. With hope swelling in his chest, he stepped into the adjacent room, the echoes of their shared kisses mingling with the sound of the rain, a love letter penned against the backdrop of a storm.
"Goodnight, my dear," he murmured softly, a promise of the dawn that awaited them outside when the sun would rise to greet a new day.