The Apothecary Man

It came with the territory of having four children to juggle with only two hands and one head to orchestrate the whole ordeal: the fear that because of those aforementioned reasons, no one in their right mind would ever want to be there, to suffer along with her even though, really, it was a joy. Athena’s stomach did a flittering twitch this way and that when Albus told her not to apologise. She managed to raise a smile to her lips in response and she nodded dutifully; her mind still twirling with reasons to give should he wish to skirt away which she wouldn’t entirely blame him for. It seemed as though everyone found a reason.

Sparks had a warmth about it that had always entranced Athena but as a young, stubborn Hogwartian she’d never even considered stepping over the threshold. It was too Order-centric for her. The Lupins were Blood-Traitors. They were Werewolf spawn. The reasons went on, quadrupled over and over. Now, however, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She took it in her stride, amused in a wry way because now, it was a quiet form of rebellion. It wasn’t ever discussed but she felt free on a rather castrated level because she knew, still, it was a place no Rookwood would step. The fact, too, that the girls were there with her sweetened it.

That warmth that she’d pressed her face against the window in order to grasp, however thinly, was rolling the tension from her shoulders and threading a hotter temperature into her bones, one that would see her function a little better, see her be a bit more human. But with that came the niggling hunger she’d been ignoring and the weariness that seemed to threaten everything she did throughout the day. Fatigue had stopped her tending to the garden. The afternoons seemed to solely compose of snuggling down with the boys and sleeping - but even that was short-lived.

Still, she plastered a brave face on and brought the menu down into her lap so that Archie could read too. She knew he couldn’t, of course, but exposing the boys to all manners of lettering early was bound to be good. Archie didn’t like the letters so much but he definitely enjoyed the pictures, understanding that they were meals to be had despite knowing, also, that they weren’t quite for him just yet unless of course it was mashed potato or swede and carrot mash - anything-mash was Archie’s favourite, favourite food; second to milk, of course.

The waitress was first on the scene, delivering jugs of water and a few baskets of bread with trepidation on her face, her eyes alight with recognition. Athena sighed, lowering her gaze to her son as she continued to brush her fingers over his hair.

Hearing Albus speak, Athena looked up and watched the waitress with anxious eyes as she scribbled the order. She then looked to Athena who gestured over to the girls. Aurelia leaned over to Cecilia and the girls looked up in tandem before ordering their favourites: fish and chips. They were bubbling brightly knowing that Albus was getting the ice cream in and, certainly, it was a load off of Athena’s mind.

In the end, Athena decided upon a platter of meats that she knew the girls would eventually come to pick at and some bread as well as some soft cheeses. She then ordered some mashed potato for Archie and for Gus for whenever the latter decided to wake up and the waitress swept away with a parting smile.

Athena’s hands came to be the source of Archie’s interest once the menu was removed and she watched him only idly as he fiddled with the rings there, knowing he’d be busied and contented with it for a while to come.

Looking up, Athena blinked at Albus, considering the weight of his question.

She hesitantly lowered her gaze back to her son, suddenly finding his actions rather interesting. Athena let herself rest her chin on his head for a second or so before lifting her gaze back to Albus. She eyed the girls hesitantly, relieved to find them interested in the way the staff had folded the table napkins into animals, and exhaled before trying to put delicately into words the situation at hand.

“The men of my married house are very busy. They don’t have time for trivialities such as ...” fatherhood, her brain filled in spitefully. “...these outings.” Athena swallowed back the stabbing hurt that rattled through her and she blinked furiously for a second, her mind trying to battle with its other half that realised and accepted the truth while the other tried in vain to protect Athena from it and, by extension, the children.

“Their father,” she gestured the slightest flitter of her fingers towards the girls. “has many business ventures that need his attention so he’s....” never around. He’s too busy off with the Avery girl to even care about his daughters. He can’t even bear to look at them. “...often away on business.” She swallowed, her eyes falling to her wedding and engagement rings which Archie had ironically begun to play with. The latter had come in tandem with the former. At the time, no one had really thought about an engagement ring. Truly, she and Kendall weren’t engaged long enough for such business. They had to make the pregnancy legitimate.

That didn’t stop her from feeling any less sore about it, though.

“My husband is very much like his father.” She informed Albus, unable to quite keep the bitterness from her voice. She smiled despite herself, marvelling quietly at her ability to throw it up so airily, as if it was nothing.

The attention on Athena was diverted, much to her relief, to Cecilia who had bounced a little in her chair, her mouth opening with excitement as she spat out her words in a flurry, tripping over them in her hurry to convey her interest.

“What Hogwarts house were you in, Mr Albus?” She asked intently. “Rila thinks Ravenclaw. I don’t think so, though.” Aurelia’s cheeks reddened with dismay and Cecilia looked at her sister before continuing. “Did you ever win the House Cup.... or, or, or ... or the Quidditch cup? What’s your favourite team?”

And therein, lay the reason why they liked to hurry away, tails between their legs. The girls wanted to know. They wanted a part of the lives of their father and their brother. Even their sister gave them little time, caught up in the whirlwind that was Elijah Krum. They pitted all of their hopes on Albus because perhaps, maybe, he’d pay attention. Athena knew her reluctance had been born out of a fear that she’d have to let her girls down again and she had a feeling she’d have to do it again. For now, however, she’d allow them to enjoy themselves, to badger Albus for information about himself in the hopes he’d do the same.

Really, they just wanted someone to care and though Athena tried her hardest, she couldn’t play mother and father to four children when she barely understood the role herself. She’d never really had either, not properly, at least. Whether she did more harm than good, she didn’t know but she was sure events would unfold to show her. She tried, though. Most importantly she tried. She had nothing else, after all. Not even her husband, now, could see her. All she had was those girls and her sons, her precious children. And they...they had her. That was all.

They wanted a father, though. No one seemed to be able to fill that void, however, and it stupefied Athena silly to think that, perhaps, no one ever would.

The waitress hovered annoyingly for a few seconds after the order, eyes bobbing excitedly from him to Athena to the kids. Albus knew this world and its people too well to ever truly delude himself that this, was out of a desire to impress patrons and do her duty properly. No, she was probably fixating on his green eyes and black hair, and Athena's polite smile, and the children, and chronicling notes in her mind for all the gossip she would have to spew to her colleagues and friend circle later. Filled with expansive hand gestures and furtive giggles and scandalised looks and.....Albus breathed in, deep, and gave her a tight smile. "That will be all, thank you."

The waitress flitted away lingeringly, and Albus's fingers spasmed in irritation. He looked up to see that Athena was already talking though, and he bent his head a bit closer to hear her low-pitched voice. He caught the last of the sentence, '..trivialities such as......these outings."

That pause. Unconsciously deliberate, too punctuated for it to be a coincidence. Albus wished to meet her eyes, but she was looking down, and that was too coincidental too. "Outings are never trivial. They keep a family bonded." He was caught off-guard by his own words, spoken too direct and seriously for them to be shirked off. He couldn't help it. No matter how skewed and twisted his own family values, his blood relatives had taught him one thing: family was in spending important as well as unimportant moments together. Eating, waking, sleeping. Birthdays, any other days. The Potter-Weasley clan was one, always.

But no matter how firm his opinions on the matter, he had no right to go around spouting them to strangers. They had just met, after all. So he hastened to add, "Not that I'm passing judgement on anyone, or presuming to believe anything untoward. I mean, " his lips twisted briefly into a self-deprecating smile. "Being there for each other always is easier said than done."

And a flash of clarity arched through his mind when she stared for too long at her lap. At her son's hands. At her own fingers. Her...rings?

He stared too, briefly. Stones. Cold, hard, gleaming stones to represent a bond of a lifetime. Unbreakable stones. Strangely ironic, that.

"My husband is very much like his father," She told him, matching his caustic smile degree for degree. Albus had to bite his tongue to resist saying, that it sounded like a bad thing. He wrapped his fingers around a cold glass, clammy skin coming into contact with misted glass, and drained a mouthful of cool, colourless water. He placed it down, hand rubbing against the napkin to remove the moisture, lips flickering of their own accord. "It must be a great comfort to him, your husband. To have a partner like this." He looked at her and smiled faintly. "You don't look like you need any help with the most difficult job in the world." You're alright. You're fine.

It was a bit of a startle, when Cecilia jumped out of nowhere and asked him his House.

He turned his head forward, thoughts a bit muddled. That, right back there, had been slightly intense. It was a bit disconcerting to hop from families and responsibilities to sunny days of House rivalries and Quidditch. But this topic snagged his interest soon enough, especially Aurelia's faintly flushed cheeks. She looked embarrassed, and heavens if it wasn't the most heart-pulling thing he had ever seen. Debating with himself briefly, Albus threw caution to the winds and leaned forward, prodding Aurelia on the nose. The gesture was designed to draw her out of the shell and a little.....affectionate, perhaps? "Miss Rookwood is partially right. The Sorting Hat almost did put me in Ravenclaw but......" He paused dramatically for the girls' entertainment. "I was apparently destined for Slytherin." His lips quirked up in playful amusement. "It isn't the very best House in the history of Houses for no good reason, after all."

It was almost addictive, to have those hesitant smiles directed at him like that. Giggly, bouncy children were well and good, but there was something mesmerizing about drawing a little, reserved pureblood child out of the safety of under-the-bed, and something awe-inspiring of having her place her small, trusted regard in your hand. It was sobering, that privilege. And so few people cared to appreciate it.

"So Ceci....." He drew out her name slowly. "Which House is to have the privilege of having you and your sister?" Slytherin would be the expected answer, he thought. But from first impression, he felt they could be Sorted different, only if they had been brought up different. He saw a potential Gryffindor and her Ravenclaw sister. But he knew it wouldn't be.

But then again.....his gaze slid sideways momentarily. Athena didn't seem like the typical Pureblood matriarch.

It was easy to forget that the man sitting next to Athena Rookwood was in fact a Weasley and a Potter, combined. To any one lucky enough to bask in the ignorance a life isolated from newspapers and the Wizarding Wireless afforded, they were a normal twosome with more children than sense. But of course, they weren’t. He knew that, she knew that and in a manner of speaking so did the children who bobbed before them in their chairs, supping from their glasses of water between furtive glances at their mother as they snuck hastily buttered bread into their mouths. There was nothing normal about this, nothing at all.

The famed Rookwood-Goyle anger reared its ugly head in Athena’s chest at his offhand remark and she stared at him for a few moments before stifling herself, stifling the cool defence she felt bubbling on her tongue, with a mouthful of icy water. She dipped her fingers in to the glass once she’d put it down and offered them to Archie who immediately decided that the cool water was the right way to battle against the day’s light warmth despite the overcast headiness of the skies above. She pressed her lips against her son’s golden crown and sighed against him, her eyes lifting back to Albus.

He amended himself, at least; putting Athena noticeably more at rest. She observed her son with a gentle gaze, a soft smile on her lips as he glanced up at her. His sienna gaze was Kendall’s to his brother’s pure, still, ocean blue unbroken by a single wave of rage, desire or upset that would rock at him in later life. Archie had always been the more expressive, Augustus agreeing more with his namesake and keeping his emotions to himself. Archie had never been one to hold back and was the emotionally immoderate Rookwood that his surname had promised he’d be. But he also let his lighter emotions show and despite holding his mother’s digits in his mouth with his thick, firm fist he lifted his lips into a winning smile.

Athena turned a little, her cheek resting on Archie’s head, to look at Albus. Her smile was resigned and accepting of her fate. It was one that she had shown at her trial. It was one she flashed for the benefit of whichever solicitor called upon her during her brief time in Azkaban and it was the smile she showed Albus in those moments before briefly allowing herself to speak passionately and, for once, speak truthfully.

“I don’t do it for him.”

Her response left the air a shade cooler and she felt an overwhelming sense of relief when the girls stole his attention. She hadn’t acquiesced to any of Albus’ easy assumptions. She honestly wished she could have done. She wished she did do it for Kendall and Augustus’ benefit and she wished upon any other twice-fold that she could do it on her own. She did, by hook or by crook, but it didn’t mean she could without sacrificing more of herself every day.

She took her hand from Archie and sat him up a little higher in her lap. He turned his head into her chest, his hand coming up to curl around the locket around her neck, and let his eyes close awhile as she soothed circles into his back. For a moment she allowed herself to wonder what kind of life she’d allowed her boys to be born into - what kind of life those girls had been brought into. It wasn’t a world Athena wanted for anyone. It was an incredibly lonely existence. It was no wonder at all that so many Pureblood wives were content to be pregnant. There was no one else after the mistresses got in the way - work and the other woman.

Aurelia’s squeak of mixed delight and surprise drew Athena form her thoughts and she looked up to see a smile spread across Aurelia’s face. It was one that the girl hadn’t so much reached half of since her mother had died and seeing it made Athena’s heart both soar and ache as she felt herself mirroring it. Cecilia’s enthusiasm was infectious and Albus’ seemingly genuine interest mattered. He was a different face, after all. The dark hair was Rookwood enough, deceptive and generic though the trait was. He could have been anyone and he was but he was close enough to kin in the minds of the girls that he mattered, suddenly.

His attention mattered to them. It was something they wanted. Like air.

“The best house!” Cecilia exploded excitedly. The water jugs jittered on the tables and the glasses clinked against each other that Athena knew had little to do with the way she was jiggling and wiggling beneath the table.

Cecilia’s eyes diverted to her sister for a moment and they shared a look before between them they began to rattle off who belonged to which house.

“Daddy was a Slytherin,” Aurelia began with a broad smile that was ever so slightly tinged with sadness.

“And Kendall!” Cecilia shrieked excitedly.

“And Uncle Eli and Aunt Mira!”

“And ... and ... you Thea!”

The differentiation between Athena and their mother was clear as day - or, well, at least in the mind of Athena. They seemed to deliberately be skirting over that little .... what Kendall would’ve called a ‘detail’ in a rather flippant manner and a flick of the wrist. It was a coping mechanism they all shared - from Raghnall himself all the way down to the smallest of them all, barring the boys of course. They’d all learnt, early, that it was easier just to brush over it. If you swept it under the carpet...it wouldn’t come out again unless you looked for it.

“And now you Mr. Albus!” Aurelia enthused. “But Kat...Kat was a... is a Ravenclaw. You were nearly a Ravenclaw though, right? So....so... that means it’s pretty great too right?”

The girls were very similar yet very, very different. For Athena, it was plain as day. For Albus, perhaps, the girls in their read coats and matching dresses couldn’t have been more similar. Yet, Athena doubted even he could miss the differences. Cecilia was the outgoing one. Aurelia...far more reserved. She’d lived a few years longer. She’d seen a little more than her sister. Whereas Cecilia might well forget, Aurelia would never forget the death of her mother who was stolen from her and replaced with someone not quite right but would do all the same, someone who brought some small comfort.

“Slytherin!” Cecilia puffed out her chest proudly, her face reddening with pride.

Athena scoffed playfully, mirth shining in her eyes. Her sly smile grew on her face as Cecilia turned her bright blue gaze towards her indignantly.

“You don’t have a subtle bone in your body, Cecilia Rookwood!”

Aurelia giggled despite herself as she watched her sister huff. Athena laughed with her and Cecilia threw her arms over her chest, her eyebrows furrowing low over her eyes.

“I like badgers,” Aurelia confided, lowering her eyes and playing a little with the napkin by her elbow. “I think they’re fluffy! But I ... I’d like to go into Kat’s house too.”

“Daddy said Hufflepuffs are rubbish,” Cecilia protested, opening up again into a fairer body language as her mood dissipated, her interest piqued again in a way that bothered Athena somewhat.

If Augustus Rookwood imparted anything to his daughters, anything at all, it had to be that, didn’t it?

“I don’t do it for him.”

Of course you don’t.

Even a blind man could see that fact. No wife weary of motherhood could ever gaze upon her infant with such open adoration. It was the only emotion identifiable on Athena Rookwood’s face, almost felt like the only emotion that she wasn’t afraid of displaying. And on a distant, detached level……Albus could identify with that. With holding your emotions so hard to your chest, that they turned against you, writhing and crawling and tightening around your breast like a snake that threatened to choke you, but you were too afraid to slay. Like a cord that tightened around your neck like a noose you were too petrified to cut. And all you could do was stand and watch the music.

Albus smiled to himself, faint and disparaging. Or maybe it was one of those psychological wishy-washes where you attributed your own, unacknowledged emotional turmoil to someone else. Maybe he was reading too much into the whole situation. Maybe Athena was normal, and he was the crazy one seeing his own abnormalities reflected in everyone else.

Normal. Circe, what a narrow word. Normal could be meeting a school-mate after so long and sharing fish and chips for lunch. Who cared if they were on the opposite sides of the Dark-Light spectrum? He didn’t, Albus realized, almost with a jolt. He didn’t, not in the least. This was nothing. Normal was him giving up and vanishing, disappearing without a trace, without a word like the coward he was, to the lone person on this earth who cared a whit about his existence. And crap but Albus didn’t want to think about that right now.

So he watched Ceci and Aurelia beam and giggle like the carefree girls they were, the latter’s smile spanning the width of the ocean, its glow rivaling the glory of the moon as was often in reserved people who didn’t smile often; their smiles seemed all the more precious and startlingly bright for their sparseness. They began rattling off the names of their relatives and the Houses that they belonged to, and Albus felt an odd surge of contentment, coursing gently through his veins, in watching the two Pureblood girls babble.

There was a stroke of disappointment though, and amused resignation: Slytherin, the best. He believed it, of course. It was just……predictably discomfiting to see the young girls opposite him assuming so, without any real proof. After all, he knew his House and……Slytherin was not the best House for everyone.

But wasn’t he being judgmental? How many times had he heard Uncle Ron (jokingly yes, but still) declaim that he would disinherit anyone of his brood who entered Slytherin? How many times had he heard the values of bravery, courage, nobility and sacrifice be exhorted? If the ‘Dark’ pressed their kids towards Slytherin, weren’t the ‘Light’ kids equally indoctrinated with Gryffindor equals good, Slytherin equals bad, shit? The world was made up of prejudiced people, Light or Dark be damned.

So when Ceci finally showed some hints, faded albeit, of that Rookwood arrogance; Albus leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if to impart a great secret. “You know…..they say all the brave kids go to Gryffindor, the ambitious ones to Slytherins, and the smart ones to Ravenclaw.” A quick glance at Athena sideways to gauge her reaction, before pushing forward. “But Hufflepuff takes in all the ones who are different. Who don’t fall in one stereotype or the other. And Slytherin is the best yes…..” A deliberate pause. “But the House of the Badger doesn’t seem half as bad, no?”

Assured with the implanted thought, Albus leaned back, then slipped his hand into his deep robe pocket. His long finger pads came into contact with cold, icy metal, and he clasped the object by the hand and drew it out: a magically chilled Coke can. Offering to the present company would obviously be useless. Opening it with a deft flick of the thumb, Albus tilted his throat back and let the cold, black, fizzy liquid drain into his pharynx. Ah, nectar of the gods.

Though not part of Cantankerous Nott’s sacred twenty-eight, the Rookwood family was a different breed of ‘Pure-Blood’ all together. They knew nothing of familial loyalty unless someone else was to cast an eye over them. The brothers born to Raghnall would have sooner stabbed each other in the back and taken their wives in the same breath with an animalistic satisfaction in reaction to both events than actually love each other. To even ask them to tolerate each other was too much and Thaddeus would soon begin to rip into Augustus and vice versa with Cedric and Eamon wisely - or perhaps foolishly - staying out of it.

The desire to outdo and dominate each other had been both advantageous for the patriarch and a thorn in his side at the same time. The illegitimacy of Augustus had never sat well with the other boys and had sought to punish him for it while the former attempted to make them all see his worth and their need for him. Needless to say, he fell at every hurdle and Azkaban soon became his destination. What they failed to understand was how terrifically smart he was, though; and how totally lost they’d be without the youngest doing the grunt work.

But of course, that assault of him as a child hadn’t left him and the disappointment they readily showed themselves to have in him was pasted onto his wife and, in many cases, his children. It was understandable, really, in a sort of perverse way, why he turned to the lime green liquid that burned his throat and addled his mind without so much as a wincing measure of regret. It was understandable why he pushed Cordelia so, why he lost her due to his rampant, feral desire to have another son. It was understandable why he felt both antsy and satisfied around Kendall and why he couldn’t look at the girls, why they’d become Athena’s.

He was still a disappointment. That fear had followed all of them, though. It was in Kendall’s every step and followed the girls like a shadow, clouding the mirth in their eyes and wiping their smiles from their faces. That fear was in all of them. It was something she couldn’t take away from Kendall or Augustus but it was something Athena could take away from the girls. She knew she could make them stronger. She knew she could make them better than their grandmother, mother and, indeed, their faux-mother: Athena herself. She wanted something for them. Something better; regardless of what Augustus or Raghnall wanted.

As Albus spoke about the houses, Athena was reminded with a jolt of the Slytherin traits that she was supposed to bear. Ambition. Resourcefulness. Cunning. Power. Self-Preservation. Cleverness. Where was any of that in her now? It was all gone, wasn’t it? Perhaps she still bore her cunning and cleverness but the rest had been chipped away - first by her father, then by Kendall, her grandmother and Raghnall himself. She doubted that even the two she’d hoped she’d retained were truly there. It was all a facade, wasn’t it? ‘Not even a witch worthy of her wand,’ she was sure her father would’ve sneered.

Athena pressed her lips against the crown of Archibald’s head and closed her eyes as her grip tightened around her son. She sighed heavily, the curls at the nape of his neck bouncing beneath the short gust of her warm breath.

“But Daddy...” Cecilia rolled her lips together as her dark eyebrows furrowed together. Her eyes pinched a little at the sides and worry lines rose on her forehead as she tried to get her head around the idea that Albus had presented to her. Truly, it must have been akin to being informed for the first time that Father Christmas was real. Athena distinctly remembered her grandfather brusquely telling her that there was no difference between Hufflepuff and Slytherin or any other house for that matter unless ‘you count the bloody Gryffindors. At least Slytherins realise the merit of every other house! They wouldn’t notice unless you shoved them right under their noses and even then you’d have trouble!’

“What do you mean?” Cecilia settled finally by asking, watching Albus intently as he removed the can from his pocket.

Athena sat forward a little, casting her eyes into the pram to meet a pretty pair of Augustus-eyes. A smile graced her lips and she moved her hand into the pram to let Gus take her fingers and she looked at Cecilia before leaning forward in her chair, waiting for a moment to talk to her before getting up.

“Hufflepuffs are just as good as any other house, Ceci.” She said softly, taking Albus’s nickname for the girl for a moment. “They’re no different. There’s nothing exceptionally good or exceptionally bad about them in particular. They’re still people. They’re possibly the most interesting house because their traits are so vague. They apply to all of us. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw....Albus is right. There are specifics but with Hufflepuff...there isn’t. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Cecilia nodded after a moment before reaching for her water glass. Her eyebrows hadn’t un-riddled themselves from around her eyes but she looked a little bit better all the same. Aurelia had brightened considerably and was sitting up a little bit straighter, her lips still smiling at the sides.

“What is that?” Aurelia pointed at the can in Albus’s hand. “Is it tasty?”

Athena laughed openly, knowing exactly where the girl was going with her question. She’d hanker after a bit soon enough. A similar thing had happened with Odysseus’s scotch. Athena’s grandfather had decided that while his wife was away he was going to treat himself and soon enough the girls had badgered him into letting them have some - just a sip, mind you, but they got a taste for it all the same, albeit prematurely. Still, Athena wasn’t going to isolate them from alcohol if she could help it. The last thing she needed was for them to take after their father in his penchant for not really stopping drinking day or night once he’d started.

Moving a sleepy Archie onto her hip, Athena wound her arm around him and once she was sure he was secure, she looked down at Augustus who had kicked himself free of the swaddling blankets that had kept him toasty warm but obviously a touch too warm. He held his arms up expectantly and Athena smiled before reaching down and carefully lifting him into a sitting position. He gurgled happily at her and lifted his eyes around the room which was understandably alien to him. He didn’t seem too unhappy for it, however, and once he caught sight of the girls, he gave a cry of happiness before looking up at his mother.

It was an expression, as if it needed clarification, that said: up, now!

Athena smirked and wound her arm around Gus before lifting him up against her chest. His hands immediately groped for her hair and she winced a little as he yanked - punishment for letting him miss out on the excitement, she supposed ruefully.

The young witch had become something of an expert at carrying two babies at a time but even so, she still struggled a little until she sat down. Even then, however, there still wasn’t enough room on her lap for two mischievous boys. Augustus’ grip on her hair was ironclad and particularly painful, something she’d take out on him when he was old enough to deal with the repercussions - of course, naturally in the form of baby pictures for his girlfriends.

“Albus, I’m sorry....could you take Archie for me?”

Athena looked at him apologetically. With Augustus against her chest, his sock-clad feet resting on her thighs and Archie on her knees, it hardly worked.

“I wouldn’t ask but I feel like climbing apparatus and I can’t manage both.”

Athena felt her cheeks enflame and she ducked her head, thankfully more out of pain at Augustus’s tugging little fists so her embarrassment was thankfully masked by pain.

“Do you have any children, Mr Albus?” Cecilia asked suddenly.

The Potters weren’t all that they were cracked up to be.

Descended from the Peverells, pure-blooded, highly powerful and bloody rich to boot, the Potters were a highly envied race. When James Potter I put all that to risk by wedding feisty Lily Evans, many questioned the wisdom of such a decision, thinking that it would be the last funeral toll for a great family, it seemed quite the trend with Andromeda Black’s elopement and Sirius Black’s disinheritance. All except the Malfoys seemed to be doomed to ignominious middle-class life, full of middle-class things like happiness and no sign of choking, depressing glory whatsoever. Little did most know that young Potter’s mistake would be the best decision ever made.

Harry Potter’s glory-garnering tales are unknown to none. Post-Second War, when it felt like the green-eyed miracle boy would actually do it, the Potter name was on the rise in the stock market. They, along with those spawning Weasleys, were tipped to be the new Wizarding World royalty. Of course, Voldemort refused to comply with fairytale norms, and actually die, so that little cotton-candy future burst like a premature bubble.

Albus loved his father as much as one could love Merlin, or Superman. He was evidently the greatest man ever born, so he was Albus’s hero yes, but not quite his father. There’s only so many times that you can read a Superman comic, before you get bored by it and throw it into a corner, glossy pages all ruffled up and dog-eared. And if said superhero actually turns out to be your father……then, yeah. Childish boasting aside, Albus stepped into adolescence and with the advent of another War, realized that people actually expected him to be the superhero’s son. James, Teddy and everyone else was doing a crackin’ job at it. So why not you, fella?

Long story short, the admiration and awe felt for the Harry Potter morphed soon into resentment, then outright hate. Albus felt too, too much of shame to admit that that hatred had defined quite a large portion of his life. His high-flying family filled in the rest, and what you got was a teenager with too much talent to be content with the shadows, and too little to stand without getting bleached out in the spotlight. After a decent bit of face-your-emotion rounds with Jack, Albus felt the hatred drain out into indifference. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

Of course, his mother had been different. His mother had been there. Or there until James walked in with her dead body hanging limp in his arms. What you got was a James Sirius Potter who was supposed to be a crazy prankster, but ended up getting embroiled in one battle after the other, and the lone support of the family. A Lily Luna Potter who was supposed to be a sweet girl, but who drowned herself in Hogwarts social life and academics to fill in the spaces left by her absentee brothers, not her parents. What you got was an Albus Severus Potter who hated his family, hated his father, hated the media, hated the world, and hated no one more than he hated himself. What you got were three people who hadn’t spoken or heard of each other in months.

The Potters still showed up on the front pages. They still had glory. All they lacked was the ignominious, middle-class thing called happiness. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

“What is that? Is it tasty?”

Albus jerked out of his reverie, and saw Aurelia gesture, part impetuously, part shyly at his Coke can. He looked down, regarded it with his eyes as if to confirm in his memory that it indeed was what it was a few minutes ago, and smiled acquiescingly, “This is….my favourite Muggle drink. Coke.” He tilted the can slightly to let the girls see the blackish-brown liquid sloshing within. “Carbonated. Uh…..what you would call fizzy. Bitter-sweet.” He glanced at Athena askance, to check if the Pureblood had any problem with her daughter sipping a Muggle invention. She looked amused, not scandalized or stormily angry, so Albus took that as a no. He placed it on the smooth table-top and slid it over to Aurelia. “Try a sip if you like.”

Meanwhile, yet another Rookwood entered the land of the living, and Albus grimaced in sympathy as Augustus tugged at his mother’s hair, almost appearing as if he would rip it off. Internally though, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. Ginny Weasley-Potter would have spanked her children raw for such open audacity. Athena however, gazed at her young with a strained, yet pleased smile, almost as if relishing the sparks of life that her son was displaying. The pulling grew vicious in a few moments, and soon she was filled with a lapful of kid.

So she asked him to take her child. Lift him up. Her, a Rookwood. Him, a Potter. A Pureblood asking a derelict Half-blood to actually contaminate her child with his germs. Albus couldn’t help his eyebrows from flying up to his hairline this time. He nodded without thinking, and soon Archie stretched out towards him, and Albus grasped the stubby arms, pulling him out of Athena’s lap effortlessly. He sat Archie’s bottom on his own lap, tucking his hands beneath the baby’s armpits, looking at bright blue eyes that stared back at him curiously. His left hand moved to the side, then back and up, stroking the Rookwood’s back in a calming motion. Archie gurgled again, eyes brightening as if in approval.

“Uhm…I, no.” Albus almost couldn’t catch Ceci’s question, so absorbed was he in not damaging the kid in some intrinsic way. “I’m unmarried. Don’t even have a girlfriend.” Red hair flashed before his eyes for a second, before he closed them.

The Healers had been short and crude with her, looking down their noses, over their half-moon glasses with the disdain that she had once worn in her own skin: the disdain that communicated only one steadfast feeling - I am better than you. She’d hugged her infants to her chest at the time, fervent in her desire to keep them away from those who were supposed to help.

In hindsight she had conceded that perhaps dealing with an officially deceased member of the dark-wizarding public would be a bit unsettling but that certainly did not validate their brusqueness.

Stonily, they informed her that her boys were magical, indeed, and would have an immeasurable amount of talent as long as they were pushed to reach their potential and, all importantly, exceed it. Then she was ferried from the surgery and sent on her merry way - not forgetting to slam the door behind her on the way out.

It was that memory that Athena was assaulted with as she looked at Augustus in her arms, watching as his cheeks turned red with effort. She knew what he was doing and it certainly wasn’t answering to nature’s call. Cecilia’s resounding laughter confirmed Athena’s thoughts and, cracking an eye open, she looked down to see that her hair had in fact been turned blue.

Augustus released her with a flourish, an impish grin appearing on his mouth, and he gurgled at her before burrowing into her neck, hiding from the disapproval he found in her gaze.

Immeasurable talent, indeed.

Sighing heavily, Athena shook her head and picked up her water. After taking a mouthful, she held the glass out to Augustus who grabbed at it eagerly; a touch put out by the way his mother held onto the base but content all the same to hold the cool object in his little hands.

Thankfully, Albus hadn’t put up a fuss at all about taking Archie from her and she offered him a thankful smile before dropping her gaze to her younger son. If he could’ve grinned any wider, perhaps his lips would’ve fallen from his face. Certainly, he was very satisfied to find he could wrap yet another individual around his little finger - or, enough to warrant tickles and circles being rubbed. Yes indeed, he was very, very glad. He was definitely the cuddlier of the two. Gus’s fancy came and went but Archie was definitely the more outgoing in that sense - always up for meeting someone and seeing how he’d fare with them.

“I think you should keep your hair blue!” Aurelia giggled, having picked up the can and seemed to be weighing up her options as to whether or not in fact have some.

Athena contorted her face into one of dismay, encouraging Aurelia’s laughter even more before glancing at Gus and humming thoughtfully. He crackled out something in the way of a sound at her and she shook her head, finally stealing the glass from him before putting her hands beneath his armpits and lifting him up into the air.

“Why do you want to make me blue, huh?” She cooed at him, moving him from side to side before bringing him down close to her again. His giggles ran high and clear in the air and Athena smiled brightly, cuddling him close to her chest and revelling in his warmth.

Aurelia finally bit the bullet, so to speak, and finally had a sip. Athena lifted her eyes to watch the expression on her face change - one from surprise to disgust and dismay before then traipsing into the realm of the ‘actually-I-quite-like-that’-expression.

“Nice?” Athena prompted of her.

Aurelia frowned a little, considering the bright red can in her hands. “I’m not sure.” She confessed finally.

Athena smirked. “That’ll be a trip to Muggle London then, won’t it?”

Cecilia picked on that immediately, forgetting for a moment all about her question of Albus. She spluttered nonsensically as she bounced, her hands wringing about each other as she fought to string a sentence together.

“Canwegotothetoweroflondonpleaseeee?”

Athena’s eyebrows shot to her hairline and her smirk widened. “Sorry, what?”

“Can we gotothetoweroflondonplease?!” She exclaimed with the same lightning speed as before.

“Please?” Aurelia chimed in as she reached over to put the can back down on Albus’s side of the table.

“I can’t Apparate all of you there,” Athena protested weakly, her smile not quite allowing her to be wholly serious.

“Mr Albus can come!” Ceci suggested. “And besides, the babies are too.... babies.”

“And how old are you?” Athena poked back.

Cecilia sniffed indignantly as if Athena was missing the point entirely before looking at Albus queerly, as though he’d suddenly developed a second head during the time they’d been talking. It appeared as if only then, his words registered and Cecilia cocked her head to the side, trying, seemingly, to deduce whether or not he was lying.

“No-one?” She asked, her eyes shooting to her forehead. “Mama then he must come with us! Or...or...or....or to the theatre!”

Thankfully, before either adult could really face that little blip, as it were, the waitress appeared laden with food and refills for their water. The boys were, as to be expected, completely entranced by the introduction of meals they knew in their heart of hearts they’d have no real part of. But of course, that didn’t stop Archie from bobbing on Albus’s lap, straining to see the plate, and neither did it stop Gus for making a play for the cutlery, his mother only just about managing to haul him back against her.

The waitress simpered, as one would expect, and shot Athena a particularly disturbed look having noticed the different shade of colour her hair had taken on. Athena straightened up, staring coolly back at the waitress who seemed to cripple beneath the elder woman’s glare. She muttered her encouragements, hopes that they’d enjoy their meal, before hurrying off.

“Still got it,” Athena muttered under her breath before reaching for a piece of bread and the cheese knife that had been intelligently placed well within the grasp of her child. She stole it from Gus just as he thought to reach for it and shook her head before leaning forward to cut a slice off of the triangle of stilton she’d been provided with amongst others.

“What’s your favourite pair of socks?” Cecilia didn’t seem to quit, her desire to understand the man who had quickly become their lunch guest almost rabid. “Mine are pink with bunny rabbits on them!”

Athena’s hair was blue. Blue.

Albus Severus Potter was no stranger to abnormally coloured body parts. It was something of an occupational hazard of being the nephew of the famed George Weasley. He, like all other Potter-Weasley kids, had spent a good amount of his summers lazing around the back rooms of the Wheezes, experimenting on Ton-Tongues, trying to get the Canary Creams to express themselves in a larger number of avian species (he had perfected the Penguin Perks, something he was reluctantly proud of), and on the whole, messing about with the entire colour palette with clients’ body parts as canvases. Oh yes, Albus had seen red, green, purple, magenta, even bloody rainbow-coloured hair (they changed the colour even down there ). But there was something else about an infant turning his mother’s hair blue merely by gripping its roots hard enough to tear it off.

Blue is a good colour on you, he would have said, lips quirking to one side, if she had been a friend. He didn’t know much of Athena Rookwood nee Goyle, wasn’t acquainted enough with her to know her expressions or mannerisms, but he could imagine those dark brows richocheting up to her hairline at the comment, and the girls desperately trying to choke back their fits of giggles, Ceci’s laughs muffled against her fist, Aurelia’s expressions of amusement escaping as puffs of breath through her closed mouth. But he didn’t say it. He didn’t know much of them at all.

Maybe the reason why he could imagine it so well, why he had been prompted to imagine it in the first place, was because of the picture they made. Would have made. It was a picture fit to be painted, immortalized in oil and texture in colour. Or maybe a book. A fairy-tale family, with primness and properness and quirks and oddities, and just that dash of tragedy to capture the minds of the people. After all, men didn’t gaze at La Gioconda just for her beauty. They gazed at her portrait to decode her enigmatic smile, the passing, ephemeral shadows and darkness that played peek-a-boo in her eyes. They saw tragedy in her, even if there had been none, and found something in their hearts echoing the same. The mind is never more fascinated than to see reflections of its own turmoils, in something, or someone, else.

Albus was….a writer. A political writer strictly, the anonymous Raiden Prince whose Verba Non Facta used analogies of European governments of the past to draw satirical parallels with the ridiculous British Wizarding government today. But he had also been a writer, somewhere deep in the recesses of sixth and seventh year, the quill of creativity sharpening its edge on the monstrosities and emotions of himself and everyone around. He had deserted said quill quite a long time back……but something in the present picture before his eyes, and Archie’s blue eyes that gazed in fascination at Albus’s plate, transcended normality and quietly, insistently provoked him with the idea of taking up the quill again.

Aurelia meanwhile, was making an expression quite akin to someone who had tasted French wine for the first time, and wasn’t quite sure if she had liked it. Albus suppressed a smirk, it would be quite an irony to have infected the child of the highest Pureblood pedigree with the chronic disease that was Coke addiction. He himself was rather in the thrall of it. Ceci was spitting out words at high speed which were rather futile to understand, but something about Athena’s suddenly apprehensive look told him that it couldn’t be anything normal. And presto, there he was, getting invited to the theater by people who he had never spoken to before in his life.

Albus looked at Athena automatically for support, the only other adult in this place who could (hopefully) make the children remotely see sense. The woman in question was regarding the incoming food with a concentration that seemed rather suspicious. The-Waitress-From-Hell made a brief entry, but before the nerve in Albus’s temple could do anything more than twitch, Athena shot the woman a quelling glare that sent her scurrying. Then she muttered something into her plate which sounded dubiously like, “Still got it.”

Albus couldn’t help it, the chuckle forced itself out of his throat before he could check it. He froze for a second, murmured a “Sorry”, and then, after a fraction of a pause, “Been dying to do that ever since we entered.” He supposed he should have felt embarrassed, but he wasn’t really laughing at her. That comment had just reminded him so much of the triumphant smile of an aging Molly Weasley after she glared Uncle Ron to submission, in front of his children no less, that he couldn’t really help it.

“Green argyle socks.” Were the next words that exited his mouth, and Albus was grateful to it for keeping track of forever-changing-track conversation. He shifted Archie slightly left, left hand firmly and securely gripping the boy’s hip, one eye fixed on potential sharp objects in the two-metre radius (Classic baby-handling manual. Every Potter-Weasley was born with one in his head, or learnt it with time).

As he deftly polished the cutlery with his napkin with his right hand, bent his head and tucked a morsel of salad into his mouth, the thought that had been whirring in his head for the better part of a minute finally found voice. “You know in London, there’s this theatre which…….well, there’s a really large, themed amusement park close by. Rollercoasters, toy cars, cotton candy….if you like that sort of thing. You could ask your mother or brother or uncle…” or father, his traitorous tongue almost said, but Albus bit it at the last second, “To take you there sometime.”

Of course, this was a picture too outrageous even for Albus to imagine. Oh, he could catch glimpses of Aurelia’s pink cheeks spotted with equally pink blobs of cotton candy, Ceci’s terrified shrieks as she hurtled down the Ride of Doom and after copious vomiting, cried out “Again!!”, Archie’s delighted burbling and clutching at Spongebob-shaped balloons and even Athena standing at a distance, reluctantly poking at a mustard-drizzled burger, watching her children.

But he couldn’t see the Rookwoods in a Muggle amusement park. Couldn’t.

Rookwoods bred the products of inbreeding. Goyles bred talent and Athena would maintain until her dying breath that her sons’ abilities to turn her hair this colour and that, her skin blotchy shades of purple and make her eyelashes fall out and re-grown moments later simply with a few tugs of her hair came from her side of the family. All Kendall ever gave her was, fair enough, yes, the boys, but also no doubt certain scrawniness and a terrible femininity that wouldn’t help them when it came to their teenage desire to be the biggest, the best and the most talented of their peers. They wouldn’t achieve that by being scrawny, pretty boys. There was something quite robust about both boys, though, something that promised them as powerhouses in all things.

Augustus liked blue, she’d discovered quickly. Archie by comparison enjoyed various shades of purple and orange and though the two seemed to have no correlation, having had his wicked way he would sit back and laugh, satisfied by the work of art that he’d turned his mother into. She, of course, had no choice but to comply if it meant that the boys remained amused and high spirited. Their magic would sputter soon after and make them drowsy - the pair having been too adventurous for their little bodies and magical cores to take - and they’d snuggle down for something to drink and a snooze before waking up brand new and as harassing as they’d been when they’d left her a few hours later.

Her boys were interesting little creatures and, seemingly, good judges of character. They’d made their disdain known for the great-uncle a few days after their birth and Athena had revelled in it. Archie’s immediate affinity with Albus, he who had shown most fervently his distaste towards Thaddeus, meant something and as he bobbed in Albus’s lap, interested in everything that was going on around him as well as the hand around him, keeping him secure, Athena could see why. That very arm tossed around her son in a casual, almost well-trained manner was what made Archie trust. But even before that, he had no fear of Albus, of falling off of his lap; and neither did he feel the need to throw himself off just to test. No, he felt safe, and that was important - of the highest importance to Athena.

A sound that the young, newly blue-haired woman had not been expecting tossed her from her reverie, shattering the thoughts around her like glass.

Athena felt a smile strain at her cheeks and despite herself she let her lips lift. Then, she felt a laugh of her own slip past, skirting out into the air oddly musical despite the usual sardonic guffaw that she was used to - that and the horrendously embarrassing giggle-snorts. This was light and airy, something she would’ve spent hours practising in the mirror at Hogwarts or at home. Now, though, she didn’t really have cause to laugh as she was constantly trying to amuse the children. To do so, even just for a moment, made her feel breathless and lighter.

“I think I’ve been wanting to for nearly a year now,” she admitted, tipping her head to the side for a moment before dropping her eyes back down to her meal, busying her hands with it as she bounced Augustus on her knees.

Cecilia pulled a little on her hair as she tried to read Albus, her eyes narrowing slightly at the sides before deciding that he was in fact telling the truth - though she couldn’t for the life of her ascertain why he’d like such a pair of socks. Still, to him, being a boy, well...man...man-thing...man-boy-thing... anyway! To him, pink ones with bunnies must’ve been weird. But she was a little girl! That made sense!

“I don’t like green,” Cecilia complained balefully before stabbing a chip with her fork.

Athena couldn’t help herself. She snorted derisively and shook her head as she lifted a piece of Parma ham onto the cheese-slathered bread in her hand. Aurelia and Cecilia’s eyes found her immediately and Athena looked up, her smirk slow and easy on her lips.

“How on earth are you going to last seven years in a green and silver wonderland then, hmmm?” She teased - feeling for the barest of moments like a big sister....or how she imagined one must’ve felt like - instead of a mother.

“I’m brave!” Cecilia insisted stubbornly. “I can face it!”

Athena shook her head again and gestured for the girl to focus on her meal. Cecilia complied without further conversation but from where she left off, Aurelia picked up, suddenly finding her voice once her sister’s had died away beside her.

“Have you ever met my brother, Mr Albus?” Aurelia asked slowly, straightening up. For all the world, in that moment she looked like her mother. Tall, long of neck and utterly regal. Her eyes were particular and calculating, probing and interested in his response. Her fingers played slowly on the stems of her cutlery and her hair bobbed around her head in the light breeze drifting in through the window beside their table. If she’d just been blonde...it would’ve been Cordelia come again and Athena could’ve - would’ve - keeled over. But no, Cordelia was gone - a fact they were all too painfully aware of.

“We were at school together, Aurelia.” Athena interjected with a keen smile. Aurelia nodded in response, lowering her eyes and considering her fish for a moment before lifting her head once more, her lips parting with another question.

“Or...or my uncles. Uncle Thaddeus is not particularly...”

Kind, Athena wanted to cut in. Soul-bearing. Loving. Family-orientated. A man of worth ... but she didn’t. She kept schtum.

“...right,” Aurelia settled finally. “For such...trivialities.”  

Athena winced, as though pain had shot up her spine. Aurelia’s words mirrored her own in a heartbreaking manner that left Athena’s apatite suddenly much left to be desired. She was a little girl. She shouldn’t have been resigned to such facts - however true they might’ve been. The other brothers wouldn’t have volunteered either, too busy trying to squeeze sons out of their wives. Augustus....he would’ve needed to detox a week in advance before he was right to go anywhere other than to bed with the Avery girl. No, there was no one else. No one but Athena left to care. Even Elijah and Jude, kind and caring though they both were towards Rookwoods, simply weren’t interested in such, well, indeed, trivialities.

Dropping the bread onto her plate, Athena set her knife down and sat back, her arms winding around Gus protectively, as though somehow the feeling of him against her, warm in her grasp, would somehow soothe her aching heart.

“Aurelia...”

Words failed Athena before she could so much as summon them and she found herself looking to Albus for help. She was a sinking ship and the iceberg had ripped out a hell of a lot more than a hole in the side of her - try the whole lower half. Now there was nothing left.

What had she done to protect them from their family after all? Nothing. She’d failed them. She’d failed all four of them and, most importantly, she’d failed Cordelia, for whom she’d done it all ... in the hope that her girls wouldn’t share that fate an Athena’s sons wouldn’t cause it in others.

But she’d failed.

Spoiler:

(( OOC: I felt it too  ))

A musical laugh tinkled somewhere to his right, and Albus simultaneously relaxed in the relief of not having given offence, and smiled to himself internally. Purebloods.

Being somewhat introverted in school might not sound all that pleasant, and it wasn’t, but it had its benefits. Attention to detail, for one. Ability to read expressions and body language for another. People could betray themselves with the smallest of words, with the tightness underlying polite words that indicated concealed anger, or airy, deliberate laughs that meant flirtation , or even a smile that appeared brittle from the edges, and eyes that shined too bright. People called him considerate, at the best of times. They failed to understand that it was simply a lack of obliviousness on his part.

When that tattered, brown Hat had first condemned him to Slytherin, for an instant his heart had stuttered, fluttering rapidly like that of a bird’s. His eleven-year old knees shook as he made his way to the table in the far left, everyone seeming cold and forbidding under the dim light of those candles. But being a Potter in Slytherin was…..interesting, to say the least. Most were polite on his face, and he learned to sift through those that did it for the name, and those who did it out of mere curiosity. He learned to notice. Blood purity was a forbidden subject, no one dared to talk of it within the hallowed walls of the castle, but still he knew. Purebloods were the ones who had crumpled spines, or either walked like they had a stick shoved up their ass. They used polished cutlery, but had unmade beds, clearly still too dependent on house-elfs. And their laughter: perfect, flawless, cultured things, clearly well-practiced and lacking much of feeling. Muggleborns just ran this way and that, eyes blinking wide, either obsessively well-behaved or outright hooligans. And half-bloods had all the freedom in the world to breathe. Except the ones with the last name of Potter, of course.

Prejudice, misconceptions, class divide. Blood statuses. They were not eradicated from Hogwarts, not at all. If you knew where to look for them.

Albus’s hand unconsciously stroked over the cloth over Archie’s hip. Unless you started changing things right from the beginning.

“Ceci could change the House colors of Slytherin, when she’s all grown up and Head Girl. Pink and white. With a bunny mascot.” That was delivered with a perfect straight face. Albus was proud of himself. Then the thought of Professor Snape’s face arose unbidden in his head, swathed in a pink bunny robe and scowling fiercely in his portrait, and his lips quirked before he could help it. Oh the fallacies of childhood.

“Have you ever met my brother, Mr. Albus?”

There had been another girl once, in his own time. A year younger to him, Ravenclaw. Aurelia Watson, Muggleborn. Everyone called her Auri. Aurelia was simply too sophisticated a name for her. She had fascinated him, that girl, fascinated his natural curiosities and probing nature. She was loud, free, proclaiming her love for all who passed her a quill in class, and hatred for all who refused her candy. She crumbled to her knees dramatically in front of the Professors to beg off homework, planting exuberant kisses on their flushed, embarrassed faces when they eventually agreed. Self-proclaimed crazy.

Then Albus realized one day, that after sitting next to her in Charms class for more than five years, he knew nothing more than her name. She sat alone in the Astronomy tower on most nights, people knew next to nothing about her family life, and she never had a boyfriend. When she jumped off the Tower in seventh year, the Professors had no clue who to contact.

Looking at Aurelia Rookwood, today, now, all composed and poised and too carved for a girl her age; Albus had no idea why the thought of Auri Watson had skipped to the forefront of his mind. But it had.

He hadn’t eaten another morsel for several minutes, was his next realization. He was looking, looking at a similarly peckish Aurelia who should’ve been feasting on her fish and chips, but was instead unsteadily fidgeting with the cuffs of her sleeves, hands trembling minutely. Athena was looking at him, and he wished she wouldn’t, that she would become unreadable again, but maternal emotions are not easily quenched. She was looking…..what was the word? Was there any word? Any word that sufficed to describe the twinge, the ache, the resignation, the helplessness?

Albus Potter was self-circling. He was a Slytherin. Not considerate, just not oblivious. And bloody hell, no matter how much he hated his family, he was also still a Potter for Merlin’s sake. The ‘saving-people-thing’ practically ran in his genes, and he was expected to just nod sympathetically and munch on his salad while a little girl said a word like…like trivialities like it was no big thing?

Archie scrabbled at the edge of the table cloth and swiveled his head back, blue eyes glowing brightly. That pretty much settled it.

“Well, I’m taking a….friend’s niece to the amusement park sometime. Might even pop into the nearby theatre. If you wish, you could…..come along.” There was no friend. No niece. He could always persuade Sunny Dyllan for this little deception though, she had inherited her aunt’s famous contrary spirit and a bubbly spirit for adventure. And if she couldn’t…well, he had tolerated purebloods and Rookwoods for seven years, surely he could do it for a day. The mention of the niece was deliberate, Albus knew nothing stung purebloods more than apparent sympathy. Or pity. He didn’t want to give the impression of either. It was a small mercy.

Why he cared, was an emotion that lay unacknowledged at the back of his mind. If he wanted to admit it, then in his own perception of himself, he had no saving-people-thing. No Potter-ish characteristics. What he did have was an experience. Memories. Of no one attending his first Quidditch match. Of a graduation dinner which he spent, locked up in his own room, while the party blared on outside. What he had was empathy, his own face reflecting back in Aurelia’s orbs. But he didn’t admit it.