The Mule and her Slave-Driver

The hinges of the bedroom door squeaked open and it scuffed roughly as it caught on a thick bit of carpet. A muttered curse followed and the faint clang of glass, ceramic and cutlery. Eyelids flickered and pulled back, splitting moist and sticking lashes to reveal cloudy, robin’s egg blue irises that dully followed the flutter of activity by the door she had sealed shut nights and nights before, no longer making any effort to go down for dinner. She didn’t make any effort to get up, either, twisted in sheets that encased her like a tomb.

“Don’t bother yourself,” the coarse, toneless voice emanated from the bed.

An exasperated reply followed with the slam of a tray on the side table: “You need to eat something, Melissa!”

“Ghandi lasted twenty-one days, taking only sips of water,” came the airy reply, its substance like smoke, fluttering about Jane’s ears. “I wonder if beer has the same effect.” Light shimmered through the brown bottle as it was lifted into the air and a mouthful was taken, foam dipping out of the side of her mouth.

“Well you’re definitely not Ghandi!” Jane retorted belligerently, her hands falling to her hips.

“Maybe I’ll last twenty-two then,” a cold chuckle rose into the air, chilling Jane to the core. She opened her mouth but no words came and she rubbed her hands together roughly before crossing her arms over her chest.

“If you think not eating and drinking yourself to an early grave—”

“—My father’s daughter through and through, ain’t I?” The younger witch cut in sardonically between another two mouthfuls of long-flattened beer.

“—will get you your children back then you’ve got another thing coming!” Jane finished shrilly.

“Go to hell.”

The elder Finnigan coloured to an ugly, bloody shade. “If Keiran wants sole custody—“

“He can join you. Both of you can piss off – leave me alone.” The witch reached over to the bedside table and her hand fumbled clumsily for the green and gold packet, filter-tips and papers.

“You’re not smoking in here anymore.” Jane stuttered out, trying in vain to make her voice sound firm.

“You don’t get to decide what I do,” she replied darkly, turning her head to narrow her split and bloodshot eyes at her grandmother. “You took the last good things in my life away from me. I mean it: go to hell, Jane.”

“Some great mother you’d have been anyway,” Jane stormed over to the other side of the room, smacking away the girl’s hands. The clinking of bottles made her look down and as the witch slumped back against the pillows, her gaunt face twisted into a smile.

“Wouldn’t they have been just like me?” She breathed, staring up at her grandmother. “Finished. Wasting away. Growing up to be as dependent on this and that,” she threw the beer to the floor and gestured with a thin hand to the paraphernalia on the side table, “as I am?”

“If you want to smoke,” Jane meted out, “then do it outside. And eat something, for Christ’s sake, before you get any thinner.”

“Bury the dead, grandmother,” came the sardonic reply. “Bury me,” she clarified. “End this misery because the last parts of my heart went with them.”

“Believe me, Millie,” Jane replied softly, making her way to the door where she paused. “I wish I could.”



The wind had gotten up and it whirled about, lifting the hair from her back to reveal the pop-pop-pop of vertebrae wincing out of the skin of her back. She crouched down low, folding in on herself as she stood on the icy slab of the back door step. It had made it hard to light the cigarette, the wind, though her shaking fingers had hardly comprised of tobacco and paper a decent one. It’d do though. It was merely a vessel.

When it was lit, she drew a long breath of bitter smoke. Holding the end between her lips, her hands reached underneath the thin top she wore and bruised across her gooseflesh skin, feeling for the long, heavy chain of the locket she’d pilfered from God-only-knew-where now. Her clumsy fingers prised open the clasp and in her shivering palms she held the metal, turning over the screens to look at each face, moving and smiling within the frame.

All of them gone.

Inside, from the kitchen window, Doug and Jane watched as she pulled the chain, broke it from around her neck and left behind scored, angry red marks they could peep through her thinning hair. Sliding one arm around his wife’s middle, Doug let her lay her head upon his shoulder, their blue eyes watching as their granddaughter lifted the bottle of firewhisky she’d taken down with her, long having stolen it from the drinks cabinet, and took a long slug before pulling back her arm and with all of the strength she had in her, threw the locket down the end of the garden.

Her head fell then, her narrow fingers gripping into her scalp. Her shoulders began to shake and Doug drew his other hand about his wife, averting his gaze from his granddaughter. A long sigh rumbled through the old man and he rubbed his hand across her back. “Fix this,” he intoned deeply. “I can’t even see her anymore. I don’t know who that little person is curled up on my porch. Where’s my granddaughter, Jay? Where did the fight go?”

“I don’t know,” Jane replied with a ripped whisper that bubbled into a sob. She turned her head into her husband’s chest and her hand groped for his. “I don’t know,” she moaned. “I made a mistake.”

“Too right you did,” came a hollow retort as Elliot limped into the kitchen, a cigarette of his own between his lips. His hair was too long, his shoulders too narrow. Twins or not, they had never looked more alike, so soulless. So lost. And wounded still from bar fights from weeks before, both preferring the wounds would go septic.

“Come with me to go and get them,” Jane burst, her eyes flashing at him, desperate for some show of compassion but his remained unmoved, as though he didn’t feel anything anymore.

“I don’t have clothes that fit.”

“What’s the matter with you, boy?” Doug asked gruffly. “What did we do to you?”

“’s the situation,” he mumbled, lighting the cigarette. “I’ve done this rodeo before, kids. Just … never thought I’d lose ‘nother parent, eh?” His smile didn’t even try to reach for his eyes and he bruised past them, opening the back door to sit down next to the little waspish thing crouched there and take a swig of her whisky.

“Millie,” Jane ventured. “I’m … I’m going out. I’m going to fix this.”

The girl didn’t even turn round. “Go to hell,” she muttered. Though this time, it didn’t have any feeling in it at all.



“Can you apparate?” Jane asked, fiddling with the collar of the jean jacket she’d fished out of Elliot’s wardrobe. She’d resized everything bar his socks. A warm shower and some gauze tape over his cheek where it had been split by whoever it was he’d fought made him look better. His hair combed back from his face and tied back made him look more presentable. Nothing could take the darkness from under his eyes, though, or the hollowness of his cheeks away.

“I can’t do magic,” he mumbled, his words exiting his mouth in a sputtering rush that Jane almost missed. Almost.

“Can she?” Elliot’s eyes flicked to his grandmother’s and she got an answer for her trouble. No.

“Okay,” Jane considered. “Let’s go, then.” She offered him her hand and he slid it into her gloved palm.

The suffocating feeling of the magic wrapped around them and within a moment, Jane and Elliot reappeared on the corner of an empty street. His hand released hers and she winced as he bent over the nearest bin, hurling whatever his stomach was holding inside. She managed to pull him away, get him to drink some water and she flitted down the street to the nearest shop, purchasing a sandwich and a packet of crisps which he nearly consumed the packaging of in his haste. It was only then, once the queasiness had passed that she could carry on with her task.

Thundering her fist against the front door, Jane didn’t even pause for pleasantries when it opened, using the little bit of room that was revealed to burst inside. Elliot stayed on the porch, his hands loose in the too-big hoodie’s pockets. He stepped inside after a little bit of thought, as though he wasn’t sure the wards were going to let him across or whether the door was going to get slammed in his face. He wouldn’t have blamed the elder man either way.

“I need them back,” Jane rounded on the dark-haired wizard, unable to stifle herself anymore.

“That was nice,” Elliot muttered, leaning heavily against the wall, unable to quite keep himself stood. “Not a ‘how are you former grandson-in-law’? Talk about getting straight to the point.”

“Well what would you have me do, Elliot Finnigan?” Jane spat irately, her eyes flicking to Keiran’s. “I need the twins. Please.” She added. “She won’t eat. We only got her to get up today and that’s because I won’t let her smoke in the house. Please. If only maybe for an afternoon. We might get her to shower and to eat something just—“

“I’m never telling you a secret,” Elliot exclaimed, his mouth lifting up into a wry smile. “Nice, nan. You might as well add that our dealer is called Mac. Mackintosh, apparently. He is expensive for what he provides but it’s a means to an end. Furthermore, I’ve never quite seen her so thin. I doubt she’d even be able to hold Kelly.”

“Just for an afternoon,” Jane insisted, wishing she could curse her grandson. “Just so … just so … just so we stand a chance to get her better.”

“You blew that chance when you betrayed her trust,” Elliot muttered darkly. “She held up her end of that bloody marriage bargain. Two kids ahead of schedule. She broke her back trying to keep them happy. The only good things left in her life and you took them away like it didn’t mean anything … like they are some sort of bargain, the mule’s carrot, to make that witch work. Well she’s not a mule, grandmother. She’s tired. She’s finished. She doesn’t want to get better. Not when it’s easier to watch the guilt eat you up and, better still, leave you knowing you’ve probably killed her and you’ll have to make good with that when she’s finally finished breathing. Never mind what you did,” he wasn’t prepared to spare disdain for Keiran either.

“Stop it!” Jane shrieked, reaching for the first thing she could hurl at Elliot – a poor and unsuspecting lamp which smashed against the wall as, quicker than she’d seen him move in months, he ducked out of the way. A distant sound of crying started in another room. “Oh God … I’ll fix that, I’m sorry. I just … I please … I need them back. Please, Keiran.”

“Yeah, yeah, please Keiran!” Elliot sang. “Save us! Give us the carrot. The Finnigans need their mule back.”

Keiran was just plain tired. He had not planned on taking on the twins until the end of the school year. Now that he was meant to be watching them as well as the school, things had become much more difficult. That wasn't to say that he thought he had it worse; if Keiran knew anything it was that Millie was undoubtedly having a rough go of it. But he had been begged - practically forced - into taking them on full time because it was supposed to help. So he couldn't very well say anything against it.

And, besides, he reminded himself, it wasn't as though other parents around the world didn't do just what he was doing. But he could admit to something, though: Seeing them reminded him of her, and that hurt something awful. Not a year in and already she was lost again. Obviously, he pinned a good bit of the blame on himself. He had been utterly terrible at their divorce meeting, and Mairen had been right to yell at him. But he sort of wished she had torn into him before the meeting had started. Maybe he wouldn't have been so awful or cruel. Because Keiran knew full well that he really and truly had been both of those things.

It was as he set the twins down for their naps and pulled out the Prophet - he hadn't had time to read it over breakfast that morning - that the loud knock sounded at his door. Keiran frowned slightly, but stood to answer it, hoping they wouldn't bang on the doorway again. He glanced down the hallway towards the spare - now the nursery - before pulling open the door and stepping back in surprise as Jane thundered into his flat.

"I don't-" he attempted, shaking his head. They seemed to be having it out whether or not Keiran was there, only turning to him off and on as they fought. All he got out of it, though, was that Millie was in serious need of help, and somehow he had something to do with it. When Jane finally said it outright, Keiran felt ill.

"You say that as though they're objects," he uttered, completely disbelieving. Still, he started off towards the twins' room, leaving the door open for Jane if she chose to follow him, and made his way over to Kelly's crib. Keiran offered a hand down to her and nearly smiled when she latched on, his fingers wiggling a bit at her sides in a near-tickle that seemed to soothe her. Upon discovering that Liam, too, was awake, he decided that naps were perhaps not the best way they could be spending their time. Once he fully understood the situation with Millie, it sounded like their mother needed them. So he passed Kelly carefully into Jane's arms before going to collect Liam and heading back into the living room.

"You should have told me if it was this bad," he told Jane over his shoulder. "I wouldn't have kept them away except... you said there was nothing else to do. I thought I was supposed to be helping." He shook his head, anger straining his shoulders. "Elliot," he attempted, turning towards the younger man with obvious concern, "I wouldn't have left it like this if I'd known. This was supposed to make it better. How was I supposed to know she's gotten like this? Never have I seen that part of her, and to be quite honest, I'm grateful for that. I know you won't want it, but there's a part of me that wants to storm over there myself and tell her to pick up the pieces and get sorted.

"If being away from the kids made it worse, ...let's just split the time again. Slow at first, if you think it best, Jane. More so when she starts getting better. If seeing them is enough incentive to make her change, perhaps we should go with that. More time based upon... Hell, I do sound like a bloody Headmaster, don't I? - More time based upon her willingness and her attempts at getting better."

Keiran hesitated briefly and looked between them before adding, his tone more gentle, "I was the one more in the wrong when we last saw each other. I was used to a strong, almost defiant woman who was brilliant at convincing me to give her whatever she wanted. I'm not sure I can even imagine what she's turned into if you've both come running over here. I obviously won't impose or anything, but the moment I find out one of these kids gets hurt or so much as frightened, you can bet she won't have to be warned through somebody else. I won't deny the fact that I still care for her, but I won't have her doing to them the same as I did - or worse. They deserve better, and she used to be that 'better,'" he made air quotes with one hand as he kept Liam upright with the other. "If she isn't, I won't stand silently by."

That was the word that Elliot had been looking for.

“Objects!” He exclaimed, slapping his palm against his forehead dramatically. “That’s what they are. They’re objects! You continue to be brilliant, Hayes. I forget that you’ve got a brain in that thick head of yours.”

“Elliot!” Jane hissed despairingly, her eyes flashing darkly. “For goodness sake – don’t treat him like this. It’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true,” he returned snidely, without skipping a beat. “Because ‘objects’ is right, grandmother. Tell him he’s wrong. Go on. Stand there and tell him, lie to him, that you value them as people, as your great-grandchildren. Then tell him you actually value her as a person, as your grandchild. Lie to his face and tell him you’re not just looking for a way to manipulate her and that she’s not just a pet project to assuage your guilt for abandoning us when dad died. Tell him – and fix that damned lamp.”

Jane passed her hand over the shards as bidden, reacquainting the broken pieces. She swallowed and took Kelly when Keiran offered her. Jane cuddled her close, bouncing her gently, and looked round as Elliot approached, holding his hands out for the little girl. He extracted her from Jane’s arms and snuggled her into his coat, his long fingers tickling under her chin, managing to rouse a smile which provoked one of his own – a real one that glimpsed at the man instead of the creature both he and his sister had been reduced to.

For a moment, he looked a little more human.

“It’s not like that,” Jane attempted, flushing an ugly shade of pink. “You were doing right,” she insisted. “I thought … I thought I was, too. I thought this would help.”

“Did you ever even ask Millie?” Elliot asked softly as Keiran addressed him. “Did anyone actually think about what she would have wanted?” He bounced Kelly in his arms, sorely wishing that he could’ve raised his voice to both of them. His eyes flicked between Jane and his former brother-in-law and the former had the good grace to let her guild show. “She,” he pointed crudely at Jane, “thought she was doing best and got you in on it but neither of you gave a whit about my sister.”

Elliot stiffened at the last bit and Jane took her chance to jump in.

“I think that’s a good way of doing it,” she rationalised. “And maybe … maybe if you could say something,” she added optimistically. “If you could just see her, perhaps. She won’t see reason with any of us but she values your opinion … maybe you could …”

“What on earth gives him the right to storm anywhere and get in her face?” Elliot asked levelly, glaring at his grandmother. “She never once dropped the ball, not once, when you,” he turned his head to Keiran, “didn’t bother but when she stops for a minute and can’t keep herself sorted, when she can’t hold the pieces anymore because her hands are bleeding … she’s a child? She needs incentives to put a brave face on it just to satisfy you when what she needs is her children and they their mother?” His gaze flicked to Jane. “She can’t be broken? She’s only allowed her only children when she’s pretending to be okay again? When she conforms to your idea of being good and healthy and fine? Now how is that fair?”

“Leave then,” Jane snapped. “If you’re so upset about it. I’m doing my best for her.”

Elliot straightened himself up, hugging Kelly closer. “If we left … where in God’s name would we go, hm? How could she ever have them then if we have to go back to squatting?”

“You have a mother!” Jane exclaimed, barely keeping her temper in check.

“Then for God’s sake let Kelly and Liam have theirs!” Elliot emphatically ruled. “They do deserve better, Keiran, you’re right, but Millie has always been and will always be better. There is no one she loves more in this world than them. If you think … which clearly you do … and so do you, grandmother, that she would do anything to hurt them or scare them or not be anything other than her complete best for them then you’ve got another thing coming and you,” Elliot’s eyes narrowed into a glare he fixed upon the elder wizard, “have no right to ever say you loved her.”

“Oh yes,” Jane bit back, finally gaining her strength. “Because she is such a good influence! Where do you two go at night? I lock the doors. How do you get back in? There is alcohol everywhere. Drugs. Drugs in my house! The ceilings are covered in tobacco. You’re both as thin as rakes as though we’ve left you chained to the beds and not let you eat. You said it yourself – she couldn’t lift Kelly. I don’t know how you’re holding her now. She’s belligerent. Rude. Both of you are. You’re ungrateful. Neither of you have been sober in weeks! What on earth would make you think I would allow those children back into an environment like that?”

“Get it through your thick head,” Elliot snapped, striding towards her as Kelly began to shift in his arms, sensing the unrest and eager for a way out. “She wouldn’t let anything happen to them. She quit cold turkey once for them and she’ll do it again. Have you ever just stopped to wonder what Millie wants? No wonder she’s pissed at you when all you’re doing is assuming she can’t handle them when they’re the only thing in the world she wants?!”

“She can’t even look after herself, Elliot!” That was the final straw and Kelly broke into a soft cry, turning her head into Elliot’s chest. He stepped back and began to bounce her, whispering his apologies. Jane drew her fingers through her hair, one hand falling to her hip. She glanced up hesitantly at Keiran. “Sorry. I’m sorry. We need … we need a bit of help, I think.”

“Maybe none of yours though, eh?” Elliot bit back at her, continuing to rock Kelly.



“There, you look better, don’t you?”

Doug’s warm voice lifted up the stairs from the bottom where he stood, waiting for his granddaughter who he had coaxed into having a shower. Whereas she had reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, just as her brother had done, she was now faintly smelling of raspberries and she had a little bit of colour in her cheeks to boot. It didn’t take away the ill hue, mind you, and she certainly didn’t look cured but hot showers worked miracles and in new clothes, an old hoodie of hers and some pyjama bottoms she’d managed enough magic to resize, she looked wonderful in Doug’s view.

“Now how about some tea?” He suggested, taking her hand in his.

“It’s okay, granddad.” She replied, shrugging her shoulder.

“No, I insist. I made you a pot and I got your favourite biscuits.” A knock sounded at the door, breaking Doug off as he sat Millie down on the sofa. “I wonder who that could be?”

Despite his gesture for her to wait where she was, Millie got up again and watched as her granddad walked down the hall and fiddled with the lock, opening it up. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Her babies.

Keiran was highly skilled at deciding when, exactly, he ought to speak. Sometimes he was better at keeping quiet than at getting his point across. Considering Jane and Elliot seemed content to have at each other, he was able to stand by, almost idly. That is, until Elliot turned to him directly and broke the older man's silence. "You-" he began, cutting himself off as Jane spoke. Biting his tongue until a lull seemed to settle in, Keiran held Liam closer to him and approached his former brother-in-law.

"You haven't got a clue, mate." His tone, though deadly serious, was almost too quiet for even Keiran himself to feel comfortable with it. "You don't know half as much about me as you think you do. Or about Milie, for that matter. You can say whatever you want to, but just like you're going to sound this out for whatever you want to hear, I'm quite good at doing the same. Don't even try me. You weren't there when she told me I should open that damn school because it might save her best friends' lives. Only for her to turn around and be angry with me for not being around enough. You weren't there when she cheated on me and then announced the fact while I was trying to make things better. You weren't there when I attempted to be okay with that information but couldn't, because she had brought that man into my home and had him around my children! Or when she refused to pick me over her own damned pride.

"She's the one that decided this would happen, not me. I didn't want this. If you think I didn't love her - that I don't still - then you are sorely mistaken. Excuse me for trying to help when she asked it of me, despite everything else I have to do," he added, gesturing towards Jane. "Excuse me for not checking in because I was told to f*ck off. I don't care what you believe, Elliot, because you're a heinously bad influence on her by the sound of things, and no family member of mine would waste away and be caught up in illegal things if I were allowed to be there and save them. Some brother you are, eh?" Keiran scoffed, backing away to search out the little two-seat carrier that the twins fit into. "So don't you tell me a goddamn thing about myself, kid, because if you don't step off I'll be far less inclined to keep my Transfiguration experience to myself."

He found the carrier that would attach to the stroller, strapping Liam in. To Jane, he added more politely, "I just need twenty minutes. Don't tell her I'm coming; it'll mean a lot less if she thinks you had to drag me there."

Approaching Elliot cautiously despite the irritated glint in his eye, Keiran reached for Kelly. "You may recall I had a stint as a counsellor a year back," he pointed out almost sarcastically. That certainly had not gone very well. "Just... let me try this my way, and if things combust, we'll work out a new plan with arranged meetings or something."

As promised, there was a knock at Doug's door just under twenty minutes later. Keiran was there, a baby in either arm, offering Doug his most apologetic expression. What else could he do, really? He had calmed himself down enough to think rationally about things. Millie was in a state. It didn't matter what he wanted or needed, because they had requested his help. He could play nice for now, though he knew as well as Jane or Elliot undoubtedly did that his patience would only last so long if she tried him. If any of them did.

He was about to ask after Millie when his gaze shifted and he saw her. Despite everything - the time apart, her unwell appearance, everything - he had to swallow down his discomfort because the second her eyes settled on her kids, she was alive again. He hadn't known, hadn't realized. He didn't expect that it mattered to her that he was the one there, holding onto their children. All she wanted was them, and he couldn't say he blamed her.

He should've apologized right then. But he just couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, he pushed his shoulders back and did his best to hold onto a neutral expression.

"Millie," he greeted over Doug's shoulder, "the kids have something they want to show you. Why don't you come outside and see it?"

When he stepped to the side and the yard became visible, he didn't doubt that she would notice the thing he was referring to. He had transfigured one of Kelly's little doll houses into a full-sized playhouse, big enough that the kids would be able to get years of use out of it if they wanted to. Along the side nearest the real house, Keiran had set up a blanket upon which he had left their carrier, some snacks, and a bag that held a great deal of the twins' things.

"Come out and play with your kids, Mills. They miss you."

He waited for her to decide one way or another, though he had few doubts that she would turn the offer down. Keiran didn't hesitate to pass her one of the kids, perhaps taking Jane's worries about Millie's strength too seriously, and relinquished Liam to his mother once the boy proved to be so impatient that he wouldn't stop wiggling. Kelly wasn't thoroughly impressed, as Keiran had expected, so he gestured for Millie to follow him out to the blanket, setting Kelly down so her mother could take over for him.

Once he was certain she was settled down safely, he stood and took a step back, off of the blanket and back onto the grass. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, and despite his best efforts he couldn't keep them from sliding into his trouser pockets.

"Jane said that you needed them," he explained quietly, almost unable to look at her. "I don't really know about the logistics yet, of course, but I figured you might quite like to at least start with an overnight. I've packed their things - well, lots of them, anyway - in that bag there." Keiran pointed at the pouch he had left by their snacks. "I've, um, ... I have some work that I've brought with me if you don't mind me staying for a bit. I might have forgotten something or... I don't know. It's been a little while since I've had to gather everything up so I thought I'd stick around, maybe on the porch or something, until you're sure everything's alright."

Douglas Finnigan watched with a grave expression as his granddaughter descended the stairs, her hands grasping hold of the rail in case she tumbled in her haste. She didn’t misplace her feet. They were the surest footsteps, surest actions, he had seen her commit to since Jane had sent the twins to their father, a decision he had agreed with at the time. He regretted it only now, seeing her aglow once more with life. They had become the centre of her universe. That was something that they had failed to see. She was a mother first before she was anything else, even if it was an identity thrust upon her. They had taken away her grounding, her identity. In taking them away they had stripped back her layers of being until she was nothing else but he girl who had found her father dead in the kitchen of the last place she had truly called home. A place she could never return to. And thus, she regained once more those feelings of being lost. Utterly, completely lost. They had done that to her. With the twins bright and happy before her eyes came light at the end of the tunnel. Doug’s stomach churned with guilt.

A smile lit up her face all of a sudden, like a bulb shooting to life. No, a meteorite. Something so much more spectacular than the banal items that surrounded him. A sun. A star. Something transcendental. Because in the mind of Doug, she was that transcendental thing. A flame that flickered to her own breeze. Her flame had been snuffed. The fire rekindled itself immediately. Joy seemed to fill every fibre of her body. She looked, for the first time, human again. Healthy almost, for there was a glow about her that Doug hadn’t seen in months. Merlin, it was happiness. It was that. It was that joy. It was … she was … he hung his head. Shame burned at his cheeks and he shuffled towards the kitchen. Elliot stormed in through the back door just as he reached the threshold and he looked up, glancing round as Millie crept out into the faint sunshine of that watery, grey day. He bit the inside of his cheek and drew himself up, addressing his grandson with a firm look and one word on his lips: rehab. There was no more lolloping about, indulging his vices. Something had to change and this time, Doug was determined to call the shots himself – not Jane. In this, she wouldn’t get a say.

Like a hesitant animal, Millie crept out into the garden. She blinked up at Keiran and nodded, following out onto the grass. She was barefoot, she realised. Her feet slid softly over the grass and she revelled in the organic feel against her skin. She cast a wary look up to what she knew was her bedroom window and felt reluctant to retreat inside. The cloud cover that had been so heavy seemed to break and split open to reveal a blue sky. The sun continued to be obscured but it broke through in fits and starts, warming her skin and making her feel less lethargic. She focused on their children, desperate to memorise every detail about them. She couldn’t believe how big they had gotten and it had been in no time at all. Yet it was precious time she had missed with them, time that she would never get back, time she had been denied. She swallowed her resentment and reaffirmed her gaze on them, determined to live that particular moment to the fullest possible extent. Her debated strength, her assured frailty, would not inhibit that. Her feelings on the entire matter wouldn’t either.

She took Liam from Keiran without a second thought, cradling him in her arms. She couldn’t quite adequately cope with his wiggling but she didn’t mind. She settled him in her lap once she had sat down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Six months old. So big already. Hugging him close, she peppered another handful of kisses onto his face, inhaling his scent, absorbing every single thing about him that her senses could ascertain. Then, carefully, she laid him down on the blanket and tickled at his belly, her other hand reaching for Kelly. With both hands she lifted up her baby and, like Liam, hugged her close. Kisses found every inch of skin and she held onto her for dear life, not sure if she could bear to let either of them go again. But next to her brother, Millie laid Kelly down, knowing that she couldn’t keep both of them under control at one time. She was content instead to lend a finger to a hand of each of them and watch them kick about, attempting to turn over onto their bellies. They were too big. And she had missed too much.

She lifted her head and let her eyes find Keiran. It hurt to look at him. She couldn’t, really. Her gaze dropped as soon as it moved. She couldn’t bear it. If he met her eyes, she felt as though he’d know. He’d know what a torrid mess she had been. He’d assess it with his own sure stare, his soul to her tattered one. He’d deem her too out of line to ever be near them again, spiralling beyond any sort of control and help. Better off left to finish off that path of destruction. And though in her heart of hearts she knew he wouldn’t think it, she was terrified he would. Terrified that he’d realise she wasn’t going to be enough for them, that she would never be, and that there was no point in her trying in the first place. He had all the power, all the right, and she didn’t want to give him even a shred of an excuse to take them from her. She didn’t want anyone to have the right to make that decision ever again. They were her babies, and she would be better for them.

“I’ve needed them since before I knew them,” she replied, chancing a glance in his direction again. “I can’t …” she sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, sorely wishing she had dug her glasses out after showering. “I can’t look after them on my own, Keiran,” his name felt odd on her tongue and it sent a pang through her that she tried to bury, tried to ignore. To not much avail. “You’re not as blind as I want you to be. We both know I’m not good enough for them like this, I’m not what I should be. So please … don’t go. I know I need another pair of hands but I don’t want their help. Not after everything. Just… just stay. Please. Don't go. Not even when you think I'm fine because I don't think I will be fine. And ... I ... I need you to tell me what I've missed. What have I lost?"

He had never intended to go far enough to be unable to step in and help, but he did feel less stressed to have her permission to be directly at hand. Her words made him uncomfortable, forcing him to look away and tense up his shoulders. It was his name more than the truth, and a part of him assumed she knew as much. Of course he could tell; he had been told to look for it. Yet she had somehow hit directly upon the thing that would hurt. Keiran doubted it was intentional, but it had worked.

He rolled his lips together, looking up towards the house, and felt somehow that he was being watched just as much as Millie was. Perhaps it wasn't true. He sort of hoped that it was, though. He preferred that they knew she was safe, rather than wondering if he would speak to her the same way he had spoken to Elliot. They should've known better. He couldn't, after doing it that first time. It had made him feel ill, afterwards, and he couldn't imagine doing it again.

As long as she didn't start crying, he would be able to remain casual and professional. He had no idea how else to behave.

She had also said please. If anyone understood the importance of that word, it was Melissa. He had never said it to anyone aside from her, and his parents. Not never, technically, but not without feeling forced to. It was one thing to say it with obligation and another to say it because it just happened to slip out, because he wanted it to.

So he sank onto the blanket next to her, though far enough away that she could feel she still had her personal space. "Okay," he began, rolling his shoulders back and trying to think of something worth telling her about the kids. When he looked at them, a few things came to mind. "They're damn near crawling, though you haven't missed that yet. Unfortunately, they have started teething. So that makes for a bit of a sad face here and there. I did bring the gel, though, to sort of numb things so they won't ache as much. It's not great, but perhaps they understand how you feel a bit," he suggested, trying to look her way and muster a smile. It wasn't quite enough.

When he looked over at the twins, something else came to mind. "Oh," he added a bit more brightly, "watch this."

Leaning forward, he caught Kelly's attention, and he reached out to tickle her stomach until she flapped her arms around a bit and let out a thrilled giggle. His forefingers lifted so she could take hold of them and he grinned at her. "Whoever wins her heart in the end is incredibly lucky," he mused gently, his brow furrowing and shoulders deflating a bit. He knew it was true but he wasn't ready to think about it. He wouldn't be ready in a million years for something like that. "Can't forget that smile."

Keiran shook his head, but leaned forward to press kisses to her little hands. "And that little boy," he added as he sat back up, releasing Kelly, "if he isn't a Slytherin, I promise you he'll be a Ravenclaw. They can't speak yet, of course. You know that. But there's-" he faltered, pausing to clear his throat. He couldn't look at her. "In their room, there's a picture next to the bed. Of you, at Bae's wedding. It moves and pulls his attention while I'm trying to read to them. Can't move it, though. They'd be devastated. They know, somehow, even if the words aren't there.

"They know."

Her breath caught in her throat, crackling against her tongue in barely-verbal awe as the most beautiful smile lifted the entire disposition of their daughter. Her hand twitched up to cover her mouth in an attempt to stifle her surprise, though she knew it was to little avail. Swallowing, she reluctantly averted her gaze and absorbed Keiran’s expression, finding a wry smile of her own pulling her lips behind her hand. She dropped her grasp back down into her lap and she let the smile rise and settle over her, relieving some of the pressure that had made her look drab and, almost, old but, moreover, lost. This was her family. Regardless of what had happened between her and Keiran, and in spite of the paperwork that divided them, they were family. Their children were part of the family they had built. She felt light being amongst them again, even him, as though her true sorrow had been in being parted from all three of them, not just two in particular. She buried her consideration of possibly missing him, shutting up the feeling and leaving it to think of at another point. She couldn’t miss him. That sort of thing wasn’t allowed. The divorce had made that something that couldn’t be. But it was. She had truly missed him.

She leaned in a little and held out her fingers to Kelly, watching as their girl lifted her hand to curl her tiny grasp around her mother’s index finger. Millie bit the inside her cheek, unable to stop her smile from widening into a silly grin, and she felt her chest swell with what she knew, undeniably, to be unbridled love for them. She lifted her gaze to Keiran, half to check that she was doing the right thing, rather than anything else, and gave part of that smile to him. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to apologise and thank him and apologise again. She wanted him to know how much it meant to her that he had done the possibly foolish thing of bringing their children back into her sphere of influence once more. She wanted him to then know how sorry she was that she’d not been enough in the first instance, that she hated how she had behaved, how she had let herself behave. How she hadn’t had the nous to land on her feet… but then she remembered she was barely out of Hogwarts. Just. Not even really a year. College had fallen by the wayside. She’d not gotten any suitable N.E.W.Ts. The rational part of her asked, incredulously, how she could have ever expected herself to land on her feet when firm ground wasn’t what she was stepping into. It was quicksand, instead, and she’d fallen straight to the bottom.

“You should send pictures,” she suggested, not at all sure of quite how he’d do it given she certainly didn’t have a mobile phone and had no idea if he’d even thought about acquiring one. The implicit suggestion behind her words, however, jarred in her bones a little. It was that, despite everything, they’d still ultimately be going home with their father. It would be he who would observe the milestones in their lives. She would be pressed against the glass, able to see but not quite able to be there. She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t live with her grandparents forever and then came the question of where and how she’d pay for it. She couldn’t do that and look after the children at the same time. She couldn’t physically breathe without them but, at the same time, she had no means of providing them, and no ability to do that and care for them if she had. She was in a bind, no matter which way she shook her mind at it all. He would send the pictures. He’d have to. Because she couldn’t be there. There was no way. Perhaps one day she would get to be but now? Now? There was no chance. And in the near future? No. She needed to reaffirm that grounding she was supposed to land on – concrete over the sand and make something firm. But it wouldn’t happen overnight. She could only hope they’d forgive her when they were old enough to care.

“I love that you can be like this with them, now,” she murmured. “I don’t want you to take that the wrong way. I’m not … I’m not being funny with you. I’m just glad they’ve got their daddy, y’know? At least one of us can … well, do the job we’re meant to.” Her smile fell from her face at her words, her thoughts culminating to darken her mood somewhat even though her mind swirled with the considerations of them crawling, of someone sweeping Kelly off of her feet, and of Liam being an unrepentant Slytherin. She still felt, well, sad, to be quite frank with you, reader. And helpless. Most of all, she felt helpless. And trapped. Trapped by everything. Deep in the quicksand.

Reaching up, Millie combed her fingers through her hair, revelling briefly in the softness of the blonde tresses – bridges away from the matted mess that her hair had been only an hour before.

“Merlin, I’ve missed them,” she whispered. “I… Keiran I don’t want to be just a picture but I don’t know how to get out of this. I’m so stuck. I … I … I feel like this crazy caricature of myself I don’t recognise. I have absolutely nothing to offer them and I can’t do anything about it because I have nothing to offer anyone. I’m virtually unemployable. I don’t have anywhere to live. I don't have what they need. I can’t give them anything. All I have is me. And I’m not even very good at being me anymore. How did this happen? How am I so far away from them, from me, from you, from anything I understood? And, I mean… am I even worth saving anymore? Would they just be better off without me? Wouldn’t it be better if you found someone nice and slightly insufferably sweet but a darling all the same, someone to be their mum? To really be their mum? Because right now, I don’t see how I qualify. I … I feel as though I should just spin a globe, see where it lands and go there and disappear because I have … I have nothing to offer. I can’t…. Merlin…”

Her hands came up to cover her face and she shook her head into them, desperately trying to stave off the tears. She hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t meant to cry. She hadn’t meant to let out her thoughts. She hadn’t meant to fall apart. She hadn’t meant to stop being a good mother, a good wife, a good student, a good human. She hadn’t meant for anything like that to happen and yet it had. Her life had spiralled. She had spiralled.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Keiran. I don’t know how to be good for them.”

"I'll try. I think you'll end up with more than you bargained for, though," he told her, genuinely meaning it. He wasn't going to toy with her when she was so distraught and so downtrodden. He couldn't even contemplate doing so after everything they had been through. Keiran knew he was the lucky one. He knew that he was the one who had won out in the end, even though it was awful to say as much. So he kept that thought to himself and focused in on the kids again.

How strange this was. Her words came at the right time, and he couldn't fault her for them. Instead, he clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. It was entirely fair for her to bring it up, regardless of how she presented the fact. When Keiran opened his mouth again, it was on the heels of a quiet sigh. "It isn't a second chance that I feel I've earned. But I'm trying to do that belatedly, I suppose."

They seemed to be settling in to something bizarrely comfortable, which is why he knew that it wasn't bound to last. He had just hoped that maybe it would last a little while longer.

Millie seemed to be getting stronger as she spoke, but when she started again, it was like she was slipping down a slide that was too steep for her to stop herself. He was handling himself pretty well until she suggested that he should go off and find someone else, and that's when he narrowed his eyes at her. His face relaxed, however, and fell into deep concern. He hated one thing more than almost all others, and that was the sight of Millie Hayes crying.

"Missie- I- ... Millie," He corrected himself, shaking his head. He hadn't imagined that he would have a chance to do it again, but there was nothing else for it, so he reached out and pulled her towards him, settling his chin atop her head. Keiran took a second to tell his mind not to get comfortable, his eyes drifting skyward before they returned to the twins in order to keep them under his watch. They seemed content enough to lay there, perhaps reaching out to each other, though Keiran got the distinct impression that they were watching their parents flummox before their eyes.

When he caught himself enough to say something, the idea surprised even Keiran himself. "What if I told you... that I could fix it? Jane wants you to get better, and I do too. You know the kids wouldn't be better off with someone else, Mills. Nobody is going to want to be in their lives as much as you. Never. I will be quite straightforward when I say that I haven't considered it even once. I couldn't even imagine it.

"However," he went on, anxious as to what sort of response he might receive once he made his suggestion. "I do think that I know a way to get someone involved in their lives. As I mentioned, perhaps not particularly politely... I'm the new Headmaster. So I have a few strings I can pull. What would you say to arranged meetings at the school? I know you didn't go through your exams, and I don't know which you wanted to take, but I can work it out so you can take them at the end of next year."

Keiran shrugged gently, reaching out to keep Liam from rolling off of the blanket, and continued once the little boy was back in place. Kelly kicked at his hand as it passed her and he laughed a bit as he began speaking. "You'd be more than welcome at the school. We can set up the floo. But maybe... if you wanted me to, I could go over the exam topics with you. Or I can get one of the other professors to if that would be uncomfortable for you. I could see why you maybe wouldn't want me to. But you could maybe get a bit of review while you spend time with them.

"It's a first step, at any rate. But you know you won't get to be around them if you're smoking or on anything. I don't care what Elliot says or does, I won't have it. You know that. Same with the drinking. I'm as open as anybody about going out but there's a difference and I've seen it before. So if the change happens, I'll open the path to getting to... wherever it is that you want to be."

Petulance put once last fight into the bones of the witch. She knew that as beaten as she was, cradled against the man she had butted out of her life so clumsily, so mistakenly, she still had enough left in the proverbial tank to entirely snub her grandmother in her ability to help her. Her stomach roiled uncomfortably with the reality that would come as a result of that. There were two options left for her, then. Well, two-point-one but she didn’t really want to impose Baldric, even with knowing he’d take her in a heartbeat.

There were her other grandparents, who would provide the strangest of juxtaposing lifestyles ever. Upright and intolerant of more or less everything she loved – from Muggles to muddy boots, even ice cream – they would arguably be the most effective force in righting her. They’d do it in such an uncompromising way that she knew that by the end of it she’d be straight-laced enough to be found in the Ministry at weekends sipping at sparkling cordials with toffs, on her way to bagging a rich husband that she would come to loathe but her family would approve of totally. Well, they would. Their family. Their lot. They were as far away from her as they could possibly be.

And the only problem with this, aside from the unwanted hubby? She was a little bit too Half-Blooded for them. Those Finnigan genes, that Muggle touch, upset the balance totally. And Millie, born without any of her mother’s natural poise, would embarrass them, even if she was broken down and fashioned anew by her fastidious grandmother. Perhaps it was the only way to right what was so very wrong – herself. But would that make her any worthier of her children? She wasn’t sure. In fact, she doubted it. The other option, by the way, was going to Lavender – and that doesn’t even bear considering.

As much comfort as she took from knowing that Keiran wasn’t about to get hitched dramatically and move off somewhere else, somewhere beautiful and idyllic to match the idyll of the woman to go and play happy families, she couldn’t help but wonder if, really, wanting so desperately to be a part of their lives was enough. She almost wished they could talk and air their own opinions about everything that had happened. But then, she supposed, if they had been able to address matters in an eloquent turn of phrase they’d probably get more from him than her, then perhaps she wouldn’t have dissolved quite as she had done.

Perhaps he’d find someone who liked novels and animals and who made the most beautiful desserts and who was entirely, sickeningly pure, who Millie could glare at over a dinner table during an awkward annual meal between the five of them. The food would be delightful, turn to ash on Millie’s tongue and she would die, rather resolutely, inside when the children shared an inside joke with her, or slipped up and called her mum. And she’d have to apologise but Millie would have to, because it was only fair … she’d only given birth to them, only loved them fiercely through the first months of their life. Then she’d collapsed. And she … Merlin she’d probably be called something sweet like Daisy or Poppy. Something flowery, something you could hate but feel terrible for doing so. Anyway, it was Poppy who picked up the gauntlet, who loved her children, loved her husband … it was only fair she got the important title. She was their mother. Millie was the half-arsed surrogate who’d held the fort while everyone waited for Poppy to come along, all scuffed brogues, bright yellow tops and homemade jewellery. She was sure even her friends would like her more. Baldric. Ben. Ollie. Alice. They’d probably go out regularly. But never without the children, of course, because she was devoted. Utterly. Y’know, amidst publishing novels, her next being a collaboration with Ollie. It’d be a bestseller, of course.  They’d win awards. She’d be the pride of the Hayes family, an example to her children. And most of all she’d have Keiran’s love, an extended daylight nightmare that Millie could do without dipping into. It was bad enough contemplating her usurpation as a mother. Considering her usurpation as his … well, safe to say that it was a thought that made her feel a bit sick.

“I can,” she admitted, shuddering against him as she emerged from her thoughts. “And she’s hard to hate. Don’t date anyone who has a flower for a name – or authors. Or … anyone who wears homemade jewellery.” She reached up a hand and scrubbed away her tears from under her eyes, her breathing heavy, laden with exhaustion. She let her lids flicker down for a few moments, relishing the feeling of being held. Not just held, but by him. Having him near, even after everything, was a greater reassurance than she had thought it ever could be. His familiarity was everything, especially in a world where only mute memories purveyed the scenery. Her grandparents’ home didn’t mean anything to her. Her husband, ex-husband, and their children … they were, as ever and forevermore, everything. Amidst all of the prevailing darkness, they were what made sense. Her anchors in stormy seas.

“I’m proud of you,” she reminded him softly, laying a hand on his chest. “You deserve it. I don’t want to add to everything you have to worry about in your first year as HM, Keiran. It’s hardly fair.”

Her hand twitched in Liam’s direction but Keiran got there first. A small smile tugged at the witch’s lips. She looked up at him as he spoke and her heart tugged at her, urging her to say yes. Only, she had no idea how. She wasn’t entirely sure if she could ask that of him, even if he was willing to give. She wanted to, too. She wanted that second chance, to sit down and get the N.E.W.Ts she should have done, would have done, if not for anything, that she should have done in spite of everything, too. It was a poor excuse, she knew, but she also realised that this was probably her last olive branch – the last time Hogwarts would ever give her a chance to do it.

“If I’m not going to be a burden or more trouble than I’m worth then I would like to, yes. I don’t want you to trouble yourself, or the other professors. I… If I could just have the materials and a few practise papers I think I can take care of the rest. I was never a dreadful student. Just easily diverted, I suppose. I guess, if I could bother you with questions sometimes…” she shook her head in amusement, imagining herself balancing one of the twins on one knee, a notebook on the other, reading out what she’d dutifully noted down as having confused her. “If that’d be okay … I’d like to do it.” Not try, do it. This time, she resolved, she wouldn’t muck it up. What she needed now was to find a job … and then somewhere to live. She cast a wary look in the direction of the house. Anywhere would do. Anywhere was better than where she was.

“I’m done,” she swore, lifting off of his chest to look at him, her gaze unwavering on his. “It doesn’t solve anything. It never has and I should’ve learned that lesson with my dad but I didn’t. It just hurt. Hurts.” She amended, realising it was probably the first time she’d conceded such, properly at least. “It still hurts. And I know it’s not a proper excuse. I’m not trying to excuse myself. I’m just… I don’t want to do to them what he did to me. I didn’t … I didn’t concede that it was something that didn’t bear repeating so I … repeated it, I guess, without the final act. I’m not forfeiting having a life with them for something that’s not even… pleasurable. I guess that’s the right word. I mean, it’s great when you’re sixteen. A right laugh but … when there’s something more to live for. I don’t see the point. I’m not doing it anymore. I can’t. Besides, it’s more expensive than I remember.” She smirked a little, feeling the need to lighten the load of her words a little bit. “Inflation and all that, I know, but when you want to buy other things it’s a bit of a mickey take. Cheap, rubbish vodka isn’t cheap anymore – it’s just rubbish.”

“I’m not actually sure what I’d like to be,” she admitted, dropping her gaze now. It was easier to be self-reflective about something she really knew to be wrong with herself. She could be frank about her shortcomings because they were so stark. “I’ve never really thought about it,” she added softly, considering that her lack of obvious ambition was also one of those shortcomings. Poppy would have ambition. Silly cow. Or smart cow. One or the other. Merlin, she probably baked on the side, too. The kids would never have any dental problems, though, because they’d go regularly and have braces at five or something obscene and ridiculous. They’d have perfect teeth from nine. Merlin. Millie, shut up.

“What do you think I’d be good at?” She asked, lifting her eyes again to his.

His brow furrowed when she spoke, unsure at first what she could've been referring to. As she continued, though, he frowned. She didn't really think he was that coldhearted, did she? It hadn't been more than two months, and it still sucked. Wrapping her up as he had... Merlin, what a mistake that had been. Not really, of course, because it had seemingly calmed her enough that she could speak full sentences again. But he wasn't sure that it had been wise for him as a divorcé.

He had no idea how he was going to get to sleep that night.

Keiran had intended to let the kids stay the night, but by the way Millie was talking about everything, he wasn't sure that she actually wanted them to. Perhaps there was more going on in that house than he had been made aware of. And if that were the case, why was Millie still there?

"I, um," he said, blinking a few times before coming up with a reply. "I'll keep that in mind, but I'm not exactly... y'know, looking." It came out about as awkwardly as one might imagine, and he felt the serious urge to clear his throat, but that would have just made his discomfort all the more obvious.

He also had to actively control the way he reacted to her touch and the fact that she was doling out approval. Keiran had nearly forgotten what both of those things felt like, coming from her. Not because it had been ages or because he had never bothered to notice them back when they were more normal and allowed. 41 days was not enough to forget those things. 41 days wasn't enough to forget anything.

Instead, it was because he had told himself to pretend he'd never had them. He was half sure his heart was racing but also half numb, so he just couldn't tell.

"Thank you," he said, forcing the words out despite the fact that he felt a bit embarrassed for saying it. "But you don't need to worry about me. Not when it comes to that school."

It was probably a good thing that Millie hadn't sat up before saying that she didn't want to take lessons from anyone, nonetheless from him. His gaze dropped to her feet, though the whole image sort of blurred as he let himself zone out a bit. Disappointment wasn't supposed to be involved here. Telling himself it was just that he liked teaching, just that he wanted to help, made it a bit easier to swallow. It wasn't at all that he was trying to torture himself by spending time with the woman who had rejected him.

No, never that.

"Then you will," he declared, supposing that it would torture him sometimes and that would be something, at least. Because he was incredibly weak and incredibly pathetic, that's why. "I'll see about collecting the lesson plans from classes so you can go through whatever you missed."

She sat up and a part of him was joyously relieved. The other part was quite pissed. Keiran felt that both sides had a point, really. So he just let his hands fall away and did his best to come up with something worth saying in response. In the end, she changed the subject, which was probably for the better considering Keiran's lack of knowledge about that whole area. He couldn't help but feel that it wouldn't be as easy as she let on, though.

Still, her question perhaps stilled him for a moment, but he was surprised to find that, not only did he not look away when she turned back to him, but he actually had what he felt were some pretty decent suggestions. So maybe he knew his ex-wife sort of well. A little bit, at least.

"Maybe you should work with kids," he suggested with a slight laugh. "I know these are your ones, so of course you care. But... you've always seemed to take to them. Peter's, Bae's, ours obviously. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll open the first wizarding primary school. You'd have to keep an eye out for Muggleborns of course, otherwise people would fret that they'd have no chance come Hogwarts." Keiran shrugged, leaning back as he extended his hands behind him and settled against the grass his palms found there. "That, or maybe something to do with design? Maybe I've imagined it, but you did seem to enjoy setting up rooms, even if it took Eli's help. Maybe it's the seer in your that knows what a room could look like." Alright, so that was a little bit sarcastic, that last sentence. But she had to know that part was coming. Still, it did sound very Millie.

Keiran rolled his lips together in thought, coming up with, finally, "I am a bit loathe to suggest it, because you may never let me live it down," he began, lifting his eyes skyward until they found the leaves that hung overhead, "but we may find ourselves in need of a Divination professor if this new one is rubbish." He let his chin stay tilted upwards, but his eyes shifted back to her, somewhere between wary and amused. "But that's not me saying I think the subject is legit. For reference."

Why he had put that on the table... Keiran wouldn't be able to answer to that, ever. It was stupid, really, to think that he could survive with her in the same castle but not in the same quarters. Positively stupid. He would kick himself for it once he registered that - probably while eating dinner that night, and he'd practically choke on his food when it hit - but he felt bizarrely casual in the moment. Perhaps he was just feeling naively hopeful. It was probably that.

Keiran Hayes knew much better, really, when he was thinking straight. But he was seeing the woman he loved for the first time in over a month, and they weren't even fighting. It would be difficult to really blame him for allowing himself a moment of fun despite everything.