Mister and Missus

(OOC: I genuinely don't know what this pile of poo post is. I am sorry.)

There was something to be said about goodness and the rarity of it truly being possessed in an individual. In the honest opinion of the young woman still perched on the couch, watching as her husband paced the floor, wearing down the rugs with his footfalls, he was in possession of a true piece of goodness. Often it made her wonder who was really the Gryffindor – her or him. Her inactivity could have been mistaken very much so for disdain and for a lack of caring. She’d left Potter’s Army. She’d left on the crest of the wave that had destroyed her life long before the death of her father. When Felix had stolen from her what she hadn’t even known she had. That goodness that she should’ve had was gone and was hidden thereafter for her own sake.

Millie looked down at herself and skirted her fingers across her stomach. He was long gone, she had to remind herself. She could get that goodness back in them. With Kieran she was safe. It wasn’t in the limbo-land she’d first been in. She had been foolish for thinking, even in hindsight, that if she had gone to term she could have dealt well with it. She had been a child, then. She was not capable of having her own child. Even as ‘old’ as she was now it was a foolish, stupid step. She was seventeen year’s old. How was she supposed to do anything on her own? How could she? And how could the werewolves and the vampires when their last crutch was robbed, stolen out from beneath them by the bastard politicians who didn’t care?

“Do it.” Millie burst out as Kieran sat down. “Do it. Make your own school. You care and that’s a damn sight more than anyone else can claim to feel. You actually give a toss about someone other than yourself unlike them. Unlike those people who have stolen rights others have fought so long to get. This is backward and ridiculous. You know it. I know it. You can make a stand. We can all make a stand. We can make this so much better. We can fix this broken world. We need to help them.”

Millie reached forward and grabbed Kieran’s face with her hands, pulling him close to her.

“We will work this out,” she swore.

The back door opened then and Elliot wandered in as though he’d never left and after having a mouthful of tea to wash away the cigarette taste and smell he wandered over to put together a couple of plates of food. When he entered the living room he handed one plate to Millie before sitting down in the arm chair by the fire which, granted, wasn’t lit but he enjoyed sitting in none the less. Millie held up the plate and looked at her brother, pointedly explaining to him with a look that it was completely the wrong time to intrude.

“This is my holiday too,” Elliot pointed out before shovelling some eggs into his mouth. Millie shook her head despairingly and sighed before sitting back down properly to inspect her plate of food.

Kieran was on the war path, figuratively. He knew and she knew he knew and he knew that she knew but wasn’t going to tell him yet. Only, why she was still hiding it from him she didn’t know. She looked at the plate curiously, from bacon to sausage to tomato to eggs. None of it was appetising. In fact, at the sight of the tomato, grilled to perfection and something she would have leapt at the chance to devour any other day, she could feel her stomach stirring.

“I’m not hungry,” she murmured, looking up regretfully at her brother who stalled in his ministrations of nourishment.

“What’s the matter with you?” Elliot bit out impatiently. “You haven’t had a cigarette or a drink since the bloody wedding, sorry Kieran, and you love breakfast. It’s your favourite thing. What is your problem? Anyone would think you’re dying.”

Elliot returned to his meal and Millie glared at him openly. No haircut could replace the irritation in him that had bloomed since the funeral. No haircut could make him placid again. He would still call her out on what he knew was wrong. Millie’s own stubborn pride would not allow him to win on that front though. She picked up her fork and carefully, tentatively cut into the tomato. She ate the piece as quickly as possible, reaching back for her magazine. She chewed. Swallowed. It stayed. It seemed to stay.

“I haven’t missed your attitude.” Millie spat at him, managing to keep at bay the tears that had pathetically brimmed in her eyes.

Elliot scoffed and got to his feet, finished with the conversation though did impart one last little quip.

“It’s not my attitude that’s the problem. You need to sort out your identity crisis. I’m going out.”

The plate and the food went with him. Millie half-hoped he would’ve stolen hers too but there was no such luck. Millie inhaled a shaky breath and brought a fork-full of eggs to her mouth. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

Once some of it was down and, supposedly, down for good, she turned to Kieran as though the bickering had not just transpired.

“We could use a different method of sending the letters out.” She suggested, feigned optimism rising in her voice.

She didn’t want the conversation she was sure was going to arrive. Elliot was way off. Symptoms were right. He was way off in his conclusion. That was unlike him but he hadn’t observed her habits as of late like the husband had. Kieran was on the money whether he fully realised it or not and Elliot didn’t have to spell it out anymore. No nicotine. No drink. An aversion to or weird desire for certain food. It wasn’t an identity crisis. No. Though a change of identity was on its way. She was no mother.

She believed in him so much more than he even realized, and he was immediately glad again that he had told her. That he'd been able to say the words, even in their stupid roundabout way. As if her faith in him wasn't enough, she was with him on it. He wouldn't have to worry about her. Except that maybe he would. If they were found out and it meant trouble, he was going to have an absurd fit. They would not be hurting her, and they would not be taking her away. Keiran found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Millie until Elliot had made his way into the room and she'd turned to look at the plate he presented.

As much as Keiran wanted to send Elliot a dirty look, the man seemed in a bad mood and he wasn't about to test his new brother-in-law. Especially not when the man could easily just stand up and walk over and punch him. If it was a letter or something perhaps he would have felt more brave. But then, the situation wouldn't have come up at all. Merlin. Maybe he needed caffeine.

He did his best not to openly intrude on their conversation, instead focusing on the clatter of plates as Bridget washed up her dirty dishes. Keiran made a note to do the dishes after dinner. Keiran frowned at nothing, wanting to direct it at Elliot instead. What did the man think she was up to anyways? Would he rather his sister be stuck on cigarettes and need alcohol to make it through the day? Keiran knew he shouldn't judge but the thoughts came up regardless as he leaned towards her instinctively.

Even if touching her outright was potentially a bad idea with Elliot's mood – Keiran obviously didn't know the man very well, so who was he to say what he might do? - she could know he was right there and wanted to pull her out of harm's way.

Elliot had gone before Keiran fully realized she was forcing herself to eat what her brother had brought her. Her eyes had a tint of red that suggested the pain she wasn't willing to show. Instead of saying anything, he took in her comment as he reached over and took the plate so he could set it on the coffee table in front of them, where his abandoned plate had been laid to rest. He made a point not to let any of his worry show – she hadn't said anything, even after Elliot had questioned it, and even when Keiran already knew. She didn't want him to know, then? Alright, he would just have to pretend he didn't until she was ready. If she ever was. Eventually it would have to be said. Such things could only be kept secret for so long.

If anyone would notice, it was him.

An arm snaked around her waist as he turned to face her dead-on, pulling her so she rested with her back against his chest like they had the night before when he'd told her. When she'd told him. His other arm wrapped across her as well, hugging her to his chest with his knees bent on either side of her like a protective blockade.

“We have time to think about this. And we will,” he promised, dropping a kiss on her shoulder as he had in the bath. “But for now, just breathe.”

Keiran let silence reign for a little so he could think about everything from the letters to why she didn't want to tell him. He liked to think he would make a good father, but what did he know? He, who was so changing and constantly trying to conform to things. This was strange and insane and the school was probably about as bad of an idea as his being a father was.

He couldn't help the latter, now. It was far too late for that.

Did he mind? Keiran couldn't say. Surely he could grow into the role of father? He could be what Millie wanted him to be. What they needed. The school was a more immediate problem, though he wasn't sure it was right of him to classify potential children as a problem. He decided calling it “a more distant life goal than the school” seemed more tasteful and less crass. But the school definitely was a risk. More than accepting Millie straight away when the Ministry told him to.

The bloody Ministry.

This was their fault. First the law, now this. What next? People turning up missing? He didn't want to find out.

“Today started as a good day. We can come back to talk of this later. After Christmas. I'll work on letters and figure out who needs to be told. We can have a- a meeting after the holiday. And you're right, about the letters. We'll think of something.” His fingers tapped nonsense against her ribcage on either side. “But not right now. Later today, maybe. But not now.”

She needed a break. A moment to breathe. She had been so upbeat and downright bubbly that morning, and suddenly everything was wrong. Keiran had a feeling he would need to get used to this with her pregnancy. At least he was finally able to say the word. Well, internally at least. “I love you,” he murmured, saying it properly for the first time. “And we'll fix this like we'll fix everything else in the future. I promise.”

He paused for a breath before thinking of something she might be okay with calling a distraction. “I can ask Mum to get down those pictures for you if you like.” Keiran offered with a laugh into her hair and against her ear, pulling back to see if she was feeling up for it.

In that interval it was quite unclear what had riled Elliot to so much but Millie was sure that she had a fair idea. The unfortunate part of it was that the siblings would bite at each other with equal vigour and it wouldn’t be until after the event that either would come to inquire what it was that had caused it in the first instant. He had always been fair of temper despite his hot headedness which was what set the Gryffindors, and their family, apart from many others. However, placidness had laid waste to that temper in order to ensure self-preservation, especially in the wake up the prior year. There was only one woman who could spark that again and it wasn’t Millie: she was merely the distribution centre for all of his upset. Just like he was hers.

Millie exhaled a breath she had been holding tight within her chest as she was brought back against Kieran. There she seemed small, cuddled up in her arms. She closed her eyes and snaked her fingers around Kieran’s. She lifted his hand into her lap and held it to her, playing with the ring on his finger as she thought and wandered after Elliot, wondering what it was, really, that had caused his anger. She wished, part of her, that she could be as cut-throat with him as Kieran wanted to be if he was brave enough to take on the other man. They had always been a team, though. What Elliot saw was a change in Millie. What he feared was the idea that she would leave him in favour for a new family – a better one. Perhaps she would’ve, too, given the chance.

The school was important and Millie was reassured by the idea that they were going to do something about it. They were going to help people. They needed to do it. Everyone needed a part, too. Kieran needed to lead it though. She knew he could. She didn’t honestly believe that anyone else would be able to. It was going to be him. People in need would remember him for helping them. It wouldn’t be about being remembered, though. It would be about doing the right thing. They could do it, too.

“I love you too,” Millie hummed gently, pressing a kiss to his jawline.

She brightened at the mention of the pictures and turned a little, looping her legs over one of Kieran’s so they were hanging over the side, her back against the couch and his other leg.

“Can we?” She asked, a broad smile returning to her mouth as though it had barely been gone. The threat of tears had abated and, snuggled against him, her light mood had returned.

A meow broke through the light noise transpiring between the rooms and Millie looked down just as Lucius Malfoy cat hopped up onto the couch. The flat-faced Persian landed on the couch and moved up to sit on Millie’s lap. However, it was what was in his mouth which was important and he dropped into her hands a piece of mishandled parchment that held fold marks at awkward angles within its skin. The handwriting was desperately familiar to her and as she smoothed it out, reaching briefly to grab a sausage off of her plate for the cat to eat, Millie understood what Elliot had been upset by.

The inevitable had finally happened just the way they’d imagined when they’ve first moved in with her. It was addressed to Elliot but it was targeting Millie as much as her brother. Their personal effects, left behind, had been boxed up and sold to charity. Clothes, titbits and the like. The things that Lavender assessed to be worth keeping, which was very little, was put in a safe somewhere in London and the furniture they had to their names had been put in storage. Other than that they had nothing. She also announced her engagement to a wealthy Half-Blood from Italy and kindly enclosed a photograph of the villa she’d call home.

There was nothing left for them. More was the point: there was nothing left for Elliot. Seamus’ will had never come into the equation. It was said he hadn’t made one. As such, Gringotts had frozen the accounts and they were Elliot’s for when he turned thirty years of age. There wasn’t a lot there: of that they were fairly certain. With Lavender about to gallivant off into nothing, the last stable pillar of their lives with everything else around them changing, Millie now understood why changes in behavioural patterns had affected Elliot so. He needed the routine and the predictability – even if it was of the most grotesque of their habits.

Millie looked up at Kieran who she’d let read over her shoulder while she read with her head laid against his shoulder, curled into towards his neck. The cat mewed proudly once more and Millie smiled a little before fetching the plate off of the surface Kieran had set it on. The cat got another sausage and while he was eating, Millie picked up a slither of bacon from the plate, a little bit of egg balanced on the end. It was this that she chewed as she skimmed the letter again. On the second reading, something registered in her mind with enough savvy to thank whatever Gods were out there that the bloke hadn’t been Spanish and it wasn’t off to Benidorm with Lavender instead.

There was no mention of Christmas. No invitation. She’d bothered about as much as they had. More, you could argue, if you consider she put effort into selling their things and boxing up the rest. Of course, that depended on your point of view, didn’t it?

“How did you even get this, cat?” Millie inquired, the penny finally dropping as she turned to look at Lucius who merely stared back at her fearfully, wondering, seemingly, whether he would be told off for sniffing at Kieran’s sock-clad feet. Millie narrowed her eyes at him for good measure but the cat huffed, settling instead to dump his huge body on Kieran’s foot with the sole intention, it seemed, of starting his twelve-hour nap for the day.

Mouth open to reply, Keiran's answer was taken from him in the surprise of Lucy approaching and for once seeming to want to help Millie rather than send her some sort of upset look. It was like the cat knew, he mused as he skimmed through the letter. It wasn't at all meant for him, but in the end he knew he would've found out about it anyways. In the silence that stemmed from her reading over the letter, it would be no surprise if a sense of awkwardness grew to the point where Millie had simply decided it was better to explain than wait for him to ask. She needn't go through the motions of explaining anything, though, if he simply read with her.

The tickle at his feet only felt strange once Keiran noticed it had stopped. Of course, once Lucy decided it was about time to settle on top of him, a rapid-fire slew of thoughts started running through his head. This meant more than he realized. The two people who had found his way into his home now had – if he had understood things properly – not real place to go. They were rather like the kids from Hogwarts with their second home (or only?) ripped from them. Pulled out from under their feet like a carpet.

Sure, Millie had somewhere to go in the end. Keiran had a flat and was obviously going to bring her in when holiday was over and they couldn't return to the school. What else would he do? But Elliot, he seemed so distraught by it all that Keiran wondered if he really was without a place now. Without a home.

“Tell you what.” Keiran began, lifting his foot in the hopes that Lucy would move farther down the couch. Unfortunately (though Millie mightn't have thought so), the cat simply rolled off of his foot and into the indention between the couch cushions, apparently fine with sleeping on his side. He paused to stare at the cat for a moment before turning to look at her again. “I'll run and find you those pictures, then you can spend all the time you want laughing at me about them.”

A teasing pat on the head, two uses of the stairs, and several minutes later found Keiran watching Millie start pulling things out of the box he'd taken from his Mum's closet in the hall.

“Alright, I'll be back to answer your questions and explain things in a minute. I'm going to grab mum – she won't want to miss out on this.” Keiran said, rolling his eyes, before he left the room in search of Bridget.

- -

After having located his mum in the small area at the back of the house that she had deemed her 'Sun Room', Keiran and Bridget had talked for a bit about the situation with Elliot. Of course, it took little to no effort to bring her on board. The only problem Keiran saw was the idea of bringing it up. It wouldn't be easy to convince him that their knowing about it wasn't some kind of poking their heads into his family's lives.

Realizing how long it had been since he'd left Millie to her own devices, Keiran frowned and asked his mum to tag along for picture time. “Sorry, love. We got distracted talking.” He explained when they returned to the living room.

Bridget sat on Millie's other side, leaning to direct his wife's attention to one of her favorite pictures. It showed a particularly embarrassing scene of Keiran milling about in his father's lab and managing to get a bit of potion blown up in his face.

“Hence my distaste for Potions class, and my eventual choice of Transfiguration,” he put in good-naturedly, despite the fact that his ears felt a bit warmer than usual.

Bridget passed Millie several other pictures – from a bitty Kieran bobbling down the stairs and ending on his bum to his clinging to Aiden's leg as the man attempted to make his way over to the Christmas Tree from years ago. Most of them made him laugh, though he admittedly cringed now and again. There was seemingly no getting out of this, though something inside him wondered if he could say the same about pictures of her. Now with her mum apparently heading off somewhere else, he wasn't sure there was a guarantee of any pictures at all, nonetheless of ones involving a miniature Millie.

One arm draped over the couch behind Millie, Keiran leant back to avoid any knowing or teasing looks from his mum, his wife effectively blocking her view of him.

Upon his leaving, Millie was a little put out as the warmth had disappeared from the way it had enveloped around her and all she was left with was a moody cat who stretched out as far as his fat body could allow, taking up the rest of the couch completely. As covertly as she could manage, Millie pushed the cat off of the sofa and he glared openly before trotting off to source his favourite who was anyone but Millie. As it was it was Kieran who Millie was quite sure the cat had married instead of her. She was half tempted to inquire whether Lucius wanted Kieran’s kittens instead of her but she was concerned that the cat would be quite amiable to the idea so she decided to keep quite lest her babies became some weird form of half-flat-faced-cat, half-Kieran. No amount of that man could save them from the inevitable fluffiness or the ugliness. They were probably better with her. At least her face didn’t look like it had been trodden on.

Thankfully, Kieran returned to liberate his wife from her musings and she was given a box full of photo album after photo album. He was most definitely an only, first child in that sense. There was picture after picture and in everyone he got a little older. There were first teeth photos and baby’s first haircut with the first little lock preserved in the page. Her parents didn’t have that same affection. Perhaps they would have had it been a single birth but no, they got twins for their trouble and thus a mishmash of their own pictures were somewhere in a biscuit tin waiting to be found again. Unhelpfully, Millie could distinctly remember that she and Elliot always had the same haircut due to Lavender’s inability to care for anyone else but herself and Seamus liking to keep things simple. In pictures when they were very young it was impossible to tell them apart.

Soon enough she was joined by Bridget as well as her husband who was suitably embarrassed by all of the photographs. The cat returned too, deciding to camp up next to his other half, scowling at his owner before settling in to snooze between a cushion and Kieran’s thigh. Millie didn’t pay much mind to the cat, though. She was much more interested in the photographs which Bridget was keen to explain the stories behind. Millie listened eagerly, glancing at Kieran every now and then with a smile on her lips. She couldn’t decide which one was her favourite – which one she wanted to duplicate and put up somewhere for her to look at when she needed a little giggle. All of them, most probably.

“You are adorable,” Millie cooed with a laugh as she reached to playfully pinch Kieran’s cheeks. “Can I get one of these?” She pointed to the photograph in her hand of him just as his little legs gave out and he landed with what she imagined was an audible ‘oof!’ onto his bum. His eyes creased a little at the sides and the lower lip jutted out as tears threatened to fall but before they could he was up again like the brave little one he was. It was not lost on her in the instant what exactly she’d said and while her cheeks coloured embarrassedly she didn’t comment on the idea further, returning her gaze to the photos in her lap.

She laughed again as she caught sight of the one in the lab and she shook her head, unable to quite believe it was a little bit of exploding potion that turned him off of the subject as a whole. She was half-glad there was an age difference between them because if they had grown up together perhaps he would’ve learnt, as Elliot, Trent and Stephen did, that in the Finnigan house explosions were as commonplace as burnt dinner. An exploding potion would have been the least of his worries, bless his heart.

“I’ve got one.”

Millie looked up. Elliot had returned seemingly in an instant, at just the right time. He produced his wallet out from his pocket and sat himself down on the floor in front of the couch where they had gathered. He took out the little photos he had, four in all, and placed them one by one on the book in Millie’s lap. She laughed aloud when she saw which ones they were. They spanned a fair amount of time but they were all from when they were babies and Millie could envisage each moment right in her mind’s eye. They were little again. Each photograph took a little snapshot of time. Just for them.

The first was of when they were barely old enough to sit up. Little dumplings that were basically the same. Elliot was the chunkier of the two – just as he was the taller and the broader one now they were older. Millie hadn’t really rounded out quite the way many intended their babies too but she still went down like a sack of potatoes when Elliot nudged her, her legs flailing up into the air. Thankfully, they were adorably clad in baby-grows – a Tigger one for her and a Piglet one for him just to confuse the matter entirely. The idea was that they were meant to be playing blocks. Elliot had clearly decided at the time that harassing his sister was much more fun and she, about as well-balanced then as she was now, clearly didn’t know how to deal with it. Elliot merely grinned toothlessly at the camera, giggling no doubt, because he’d gotten one over on Millie.

The second was when they were a little bit older. Crawling was the name of the game but this one was mainly Millie who with curly blonde hair had thrown herself right up to the camera, her little hand groping out towards it. Elliot could be seen in the background, a notably confused smile on his face but like his sister he had the curly blonde hair. It seemed funny to think that unless it got damp their hair had straightened out completely. She hadn’t changed much, she realised, from when she was a baby. Her big blue eyes were a steadfast feature with her pointy nose and prominent smile. He had gone in swings and roundabouts, her brother, but ultimately still had that original look about him – hidden somewhere, at least.

The third saw them at walking age, almost. This one was of them in Seamus’ arms in the kitchen. In their hands, half eaten ginger men were kept tight, Millie’s as far in her mouth as she could manage while Elliot shook his, looking at it curiously and watching as the head fell off. He looked up at the camera then, presumably when it splatted on the floor, and grinned wildly while Millie took her gingerbread man from her mouth and looked down at the mess, a smile of her own appearing. Seamus laughed throughout the whole thing and the image ended with a kiss for both of them before it crackled into its replay.

The fourth and final one was of their father, also. This one was just Millie in it, though. It had been a blisteringly hot day in summer and Elliot had been burnt along with Lavender who had been careless whereas Elliot had fooled them into thinking he’d been covered in sun tan lotion. He was burnt from head to toe like a lobster, probably why he wasn’t in the picture, but Millie and Seamus were. Tucked up on a sunbed under an umbrella. She was curled on his chest, her head resting in his neck, completely sound-o. She was wearing a blue, polka dot bathing costume which she was sure she didn’t get much use out of because, like her father who was wearing a straw hat, a half-smile on his lips, she slept most of the day away.

“Oh, gosh, look at them,” she laughed a little, picking up the last one. Her fingers brushed over Seamus’ face as she held it carefully, preciously in her hands. “I didn’t know you had these.”

Elliot smiled bashfully, flicking his fingers absent-mindedly on the floor before taking his wand out.

“There’s this spell … doesn’t last long but it makes the pictures interact if you’d like to see. Pick two. We don’t want hundreds of Kierans and six Elliots and seven Millies all trying to battle it out.”

Millie picked up the second one of them and the one of Kieran on the stairs before holding them out to Elliot. With a wave of his wand he cast the charm and the pictures rumbled, the characters inside immediately beginning to take life.

Without even having to think on it, Keiran's hand moved to rest atop Lucius's head, finally leaning in at the teaching touches Millie offered. At this point, he was beyond worrying about his mum and her opinions of his affections with his wife. It wasn't like they were young teens who had to question every motion. If her amazed reply to his confession was anything to go by, she had realized her feelings a time ago but felt unable to say anything. In a situation like this, it almost never felt like the right time. Eventually, Keiran had decided that it wasn't worth it to hide the truth of the words.

As much as he hated to say so, he had a feeling Millie would be getting copies of anything she wanted. “Of course, love.” He nodded. “Set aside the ones you want. But if you set them out somewhere, expect them to be covered by stickies or paper or sommat.”

“Keiran..” Bridget chided softly, trying to hide her smile. He had always disliked being in pictures.

He smirked at his mum for a moment before catching the blush on Millie's cheeks. A hand was nearly touching her face when Elliot came in, offering pictures of his own. Laughter inevitably followed, and somehow Keiran felt this was one moment where he needed to pull back, to keep his fingers from brushing her shoulder or wrapping around her. He was more interested in the wonder and memories made clear in her expression. He was loathe to interrupt that, or ruin it by intruding. These pictures clearly meant more to the siblings than his did to himself or his parents. He had many – they in all possibility only had these. Instead, he moved it back to the top of the couch and watched the pictures as they were held out for him to see.

Seeing Elliot embarrassed or seeming at all out of sorts was strange, but Keiran of course kept the thought to himself. “If you want, we can make copies of those as well.” He suggested off-handedly at her comments of surprise.

Her reaction earlier, of course, was nothing to Keiran's entertainment at Elliot's charm. He would certainly have to learn that one. A little Keiran fell onto his bum, as the grown Keiran expected. But he was distracted from the pain of the fall by two little folks tottering around nearby, crawling but trying for more. In the short space of time that the magic could hold, he watched the smaller version of himself make his way over to the twins, glance between the two and wonder the difference. He could practically hear the thoughts himself. In the end, Keiran of the picture decided to simply sit betwixt the two as they appeared to jabber in the nonsense language that babies always seemed restricted to.

Bridget's hand reached for Elliot's, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand. Her other hand gripped Keiran's. He understood, of course, what the gesture meant. Keiran tilted his head so it rested against Millie's.

Bridget had accepted the lot of them as her own – even Lucy-cat whose back was still brushed over by Keiran's spare hand – even if they didn't know. They all seemed connected in this as much as they were physically. He could feel it, though, in the room. When the charm wore off, the pictures back to playing their proper scenes, Keiran squeezed Bridget's hand and passed her a look.

“Elliot, mate,” He began cautiously but with an openly friendly tone, “Millie saw the letter, and I know you may not want it, but Mum and I know. We've talked about it and... if you end up needing somewhere to stay, we always have a spare room. We won't be anything more than you need, nor anything less.”

Bridget nodded, offering a smile. “Aiden is rarely in the house, but he's taken a liking to the both of you.” She glanced at Millie to ensure her it wasn't an accident that she had included her. “I've known him long enough to know he will be with us on this. It is entirely up to you, darling.”

Keiran looked over at Millie to keep some of the attention off of her brother, hoping she wouldn't feel they had overstepped any lines. If he had, he almost hoped she would give him a good talking to rather than pretend it was all okay. Or maybe Elliot would do so himself and that would be that. He just hoped he had done right by this man, his brother-in-law who was all Millie really had for family before their wedding. Sure, she had others now, but none as important or with as much history as Elliot.

With all of the pictures around her, Millie didn’t think that she’d be able to choose between them. Eventually she had a feeling she’d settle on a dozen or so, no doubt closer to twenty than twelve, and Bridget would humour her much to Kieran’s dismay; and yes, they would go up somewhere. She was sure he’d get her back in some small way. There were plenty more bizarre photographs of Millie and Elliot about and eventually they’d surface when they went into London to have look through the safe, the lock boxes and the storage garage. It was a biscuit tin, if she remembered rightly, where they were all splayed out. Seamus had always been meaning to get a few photograph albums for the pictures to go into but as with many of his intentions they hadn’t quite panned out.

The blonde took the side of her mother-in-law when Bridget chided Kieran gently and she fixed him with a half-bemused, half-serious expression that warned that dire circumstances would succeed any endeavour of him to do it. It was a healthy home that had pictures everywhere, Millie felt. It suggested activity, it meant love. Thankfully, she could say that her own home had more than a few pictures but it was nostalgia, most of it. Pictures of Dumbledore’s Army and the like. Then there were the school pictures of them. Ones from when they were little. They’d all been framed. Where on earth had they ended up?

Millie set down the photograph of her and her father on the beach – it must have been Brighton or Bournemouth from what felt like a millennia ago – and took the ones that Elliot had charmed. Her eyes lit up as she watched the two images come together. It was over before it had even began and Millie looked to Elliot again. The man chuckled and waved his wand once more, setting the photographs into motion. He even tapped the one of them in the kitchen and Seamus tossed them into the air, somehow madly managing to juggle them and Kieran altogether without dropping anyone.

When Kieran began to speak, both Finnigans froze. Elliot’s eyes found Millie’s but she shook her head: this was of their volition, not her press. Sobering himself enough, Elliot flung his hand at the cat, flipping Lucius on the nose for his meddling. The cat hissed in response and snuggled closer to Kieran. Manipulative though the little ball of fluff was, part of Elliot was half-pleased but the other was entirely mortified and he wanted somehow to play it off – convince them that he didn’t need them to be so charitable.

Elliot opened his mouth to protest but the words didn’t come and he ducked his head a little.

“Were you not going to ask for any help?” Millie asked gently.

Elliot groaned, his fingers thrumming through his hair as he looked up at his sister hesitantly.

“I wasn’t going to actually tell you,” he admitted readily, seeing no sense in lying to her. “So, no.”

Millie blinked, suddenly lost for words, wondering as to his intentions. What would happen when Millie reluctantly had to get into contact with her mother, had to explain that she was pregnant, that Lavender was going to be a grandmother? What then? Was Elliot going to say anything then, when it was too late? She knew her relationship with her mother had long gone past salvageable, the wedding day being the only time when she’d come close to rekindling her affinity with the woman. There was no hope of that, though. This she knew.

“You don’t have to keep me,” Elliot began, taking Bridget’s hands. “Millie is your family now. I am not going to burden you with my presence unnecessarily. So, if I stay, which I would like to very much, then I will pay rent and take responsibility for myself. I will not let you keep me without giving something back to you, Bridget. I have a feeling you would let me but I can’t do that to you and your family. You are good people, far too good for sense, I think.”

“You thought you could work it out on your own, didn’t you?” Millie realised.

Colour rose in Elliot’s cheeks and he ducked his head again guiltily before looking up at Millie once more, his eyes breezing furtively between the three people – and the cat – who were fixing him with expressions made up with equal parts of disbelief, empathy and concern.

“You know how to be on your own.” Elliot spoke steadily. “You know and you were doing it for a lot longer than I ever envisaged myself doing so. We were thirteen, weren’t we, when you first walked out after rowing with mum. It was February half term, do you remember, and you didn’t even come back for your birthday. Merlin knows where you went but from then on you were on your own. You could do it so I didn’t see why …why I couldn’t be, too.”

Millie arched an eyebrow at her brother. It had always been clear as day who the smarter twin was. She was the eldest but by no means the most intelligent. Elliot was the all-rounder, the one who could do anything he set his mind to. Her talents were few but potent, she supposed, but she was lacking in many areas where he was far superior to her. Though she saw now who had been gifted with an almost Slytherin sense of self-preservation. Her brother was ridiculously smart, this she knew, and it was that which made her wonder how he could be so stupid.

“You are an idiot, you know that, don’t you?” She burst out despairingly. “God, Elliot… I walked out because that option was better than staying. She loved you. I couldn’t stand to be in a room with her. D-dad… he … he didn’t make that better but that wasn’t his fault. I had to go. It was stupid and impulsive and I didn’t do it for the best reasons but it’s over and done with. You know better than to try and be like me.”

“It seemed like a decent idea at the time. I mean… I am old enough to take care of myself.” He protested.

“Being old enough to take care of yourself also means you should be old enough to concede when you need help.” She placed her hand on Kieran’s leg and looked at him briefly as she continued to speak. “I need someone behind me. I need someone to tell me when I’m wrong or pick me up when I’m hurt. You need that too.”

Elliot chuckled. “My sister, when did she get so wise?” He smirked and shook his head, patting Millie on the hand. “I shall try not to be so foolish then, eh?”

“No, you will do it.” She corrected him, picking up one of the photographs. “Otherwise I’ll hex you so you’re this big again and you won’t have a choice in the matter at all!”

It would be alright. In the end. Of that she was sure. Though, she couldn't deny the slight feeling that something else was waiting, lurking in the shadows to trip them all up. No amount of Elliot being less foolish or she more practical or Kieran more affectionate could prevent that, she suspected. No, something was waiting, but what she didn't quite know yet.

Keiran repressed a groan at the sight of the pile Millie had made out of their pictures. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be getting rid of them any time soon; he could feel Millie rearing up to fight him about it even now. He couldn't recall the last thing they'd so much as debated, nonetheless fought over. He wasn't sure they ever had gotten to that point. Surely, though, they wouldn't always be on the same page, as was expected of any couple – especially of those thrown together by the mess that was the Marriage Law.

The twins' reactions to his comments made him both nervous and embarrassed. Maybe he hadn't done right by them. He probably shouldn't have read the letter at all, considering how stiff Elliot was right then. Keiran's hand wrapped instinctively around Lucius but said nothing. This was his fault, not the poor cat – somehow he imagined the cat had known Elliot was in trouble. That, or it really just loved annoying Millie.

Keiran thought it best not to interfere as the twins talked, noting that he had no idea where he stood in all of this. He kept close to Lucy-cat in case the poor thing was thwacked on the nose again, trying not to let his eyes float back and forth between Millie and her brother like it was some tennis match. Extra pressure was not what they needed right now. It was the holidays, but they certainly didn't seem to feel it.

“If you haven't a family to return to right now, then we wouldn't dare let you head off on your own,” Bridget explained calmly, squeezing his hands in return. “If it makes you feel better, then I won't turn away your help. But don't think that any time you're down on your luck that we'll send you packing.”

“Never,” Keiran agreed. It didn't matter if the two wouldn't always get on; there was no way anyone in the Hayes household would be sending someone out on their own. It didn't matter if Elliot could class himself as a man, though, when he had no one to affirm it. There would be no comfort in staying on his own and lacking interaction with someone he could call family. Keiran had seen that before, in his dearest friend, and he wouldn't be sitting about watching it happen to Millie's family.

Elliot's response to her question made Keiran feel the need to look away, to somehow avert attention from their conversation. But at the same time, looking elsewhere made it obvious that he was listening but pretending not to. Instead, he glanced at Bridget for some reason he could either leave them be or a way to make the air in the room less dense. He restrained his hand when it went to rub her back during her miniature rant. Keiran feared it would just make her more upset. Instead, he let his gaze fall to Lucius, his hand roaming over the cat's back. The thing seemed to feel the tension both in the room as well as in Keiran's touch because it looked up at him with its squashed face, somehow managing a pitying look at Keiran.

Her hand drew his attention, however, glancing at her just as she turned to look at him. She needed him. That was somewhat of a relief. Knowing he was needed felt both good as well as nerve-wracking. But after quitting his job he wouldn't be sure what to do. At least he had the goal of a new school to focus on as soon as Christmas was over. He knew he would need something to occupy part of his thoughts and give him somewhere to be heading. Idleness didn't really sit well with him. Keiran set his hand atop hers, fingers brushing across her own over and over.

When the conversation seemed to draw to a close, he started thinking through the possibilities for the day. He'd been so set on some joking attempts at Quidditch matches or taking the horses out for a while. But with his newfound assuredness of Millie being pregnant, Keiran wasn't very interested in taking the risks that came with those activities. The problem with breaks, he had decided years ago, was that one often ran short on things to do or found themselves wishing for more activities on their list. He would have to plan out some things for Millie and himself when Summer came around. For after the school was figured out. He wasn't at all sure how long that would last, or how far into the semester they could go without getting caught or in trouble. In fact, Keiran could see a million ways it could go wrong, including being sent off to Azkaban. There was no way in hell that he was letting anyone send Millie there – especially if he was right about her condition. If she didn't tell him before things started getting serious with their plans, he was going to have to ask her.

He didn't care if it ended in a fight over her wanting to be involved. He would be having none of it. There was no way he would see her sent off to some cell with some random person who might actually deserve to be there. Who might have killed before, thus planting them in that prison. Millie could never deserve that.

He shook his head, looking about, and discovered that Bridget had gone off somewhere in the midst of his aggressive thoughts, leaving himself and the cat to marinate in the after effects of the argument. The good thing, though, was that Elliot had agreed. He wouldn't be off somewhere trying to hack it on his own while Millie sat about in a cozy flat or with the rest of the Hayes family (for she sort of was one, now. Not entirely, of course, though he supposed she wouldn't want to be. No one would want to betray the sort of father Keiran saw in those pictures by ignoring the fact that you belonged in part to him.) Keiran knew that he would need to at least offer to include his brother-in-law in whatever plans he thought up for the day.

“This,” he began, plucking the picture from Millie's hand and gesturing with it, “is terrifyingly fascinating and all, but I think I've had enough Embarrass Keiran time for one day. What say you we head out somewhere? We can go shop for whomever we've not yet bought things for, or just waste time somewhere else instead of wasting it here. We'll all go a bit stir crazy if we sit here the entire week.”

There, it was decided. As quickly as a home was lost, a new one was found and Millie took solace in the fact that Lavender had been thwarted. She didn’t know what their mother had imagined would happen. Still, knowing that they had succeeded where she had set them up to fail yet again, Millie felt massively reassured. Eventually though, company parted from them until it was the trio once again: Mr and Mrs Hayes and Lucius Malfoy the cat. Millie began to carefully put the photographs in their proper place and looked up at Kieran, laughing at his words.

“It is not embarrass Kieran day: it’s let’s enjoy how adorable Kieran was when he was a baby day.” Millie giggled, reaching to pinch his cheeks. She carefully set the photograph albums back in the box, tucking everything back in where it was before shuffling the photographs Elliot had left with her together, tucking them into the top album where they’d be safe until she retrieved them again to be copied with a few others. She just hoped that they’d eventually come to find all of their photographs but a lot of that would fall into Lavender’s ‘unnecessary junk’ category.

“How about we do that and buy some silly things we don’t need?” She inquired with a smile, adding. “And then come back and cook lunch? I think your mum needs some serious pampering.”

It wasn’t a difficult decision to go into town. It was a holiday, after all and Millie was not someone who was into too many lazy weekends. Once the coats were done up, hats were wriggled onto their heads and gloves were put on, the pair trundled into town and from there on in there was the mischief that came from pockets of coins and a kaleidoscope of items just begging to be bought. Thankfully, Millie began without too much injury or fault and by the time they began to weave towards the bookseller’s stall in the market, she still had her coffers more or less left unscathed.

At the book stall, however, Millie knew she was doomed. All of them were old and leather-bound and gorgeous. Her interest in the stories did not matter to her in that instant. Lifting one of the tomes into her hands she knew she had to purchase one – or many – of them in order to sate her sudden desire.

“Gosh, they’re beautiful,” she murmured, running her spindly fingers along the spine. “Merlin, look… this is a second edition Dickens,” she exclaimed as she pried open the cover from the inside leaf.

Upon that discovery, Millie was away, passing the book in her hands to Kieran before wandering around the stall in a flurry. The atypical other-half-goes-shopping-with-the-missus scenario was quickly unfolding but the difference was that this wasn’t a clothes shopping extravaganza: these were books.

“That's practically the same thing,” He noted, glancing at Millie out of the corner of his eye as her fingers caught his cheek. Keiran frowned lightly, but didn't really mean it. “Silly things?” He continued, laughing, “That sounds like a good time. And mum will love that. She'll try and help, but she'll love it regardless.”

It took a bit of effort to get into their outdoor clothes, considering that Keiran kept putting off their going outside by stealing away bits of Millie's clothes – like her gloves or her hat – and planting kisses on her face to distract from the fact that he'd stolen them. Eventually, though, he'd given in and followed her to the market. As one who was not at all fond of shopping, Keiran figured he was going to have to get out and do it eventually with Christmas coming up. It provided an excellent time to go about picking up things for his parents and those he expected to drop by for the gift exchange on Christmas Day. Millie's gifts, of course, would have to be found when she was either home or out with friends.

Keiran discovered that he rather loved her adoration for books, taking her offered copy. The book felt heavy in his hands as he opened the cover to glance through the pages. Her excitement was rather contagious, he found, as she scuffled off to search through another stack of novels. His hands brushed over the spines through his gloves, taking them all in. His gaze settled on a book regarding potion-making, immediately thinking of his father. It took only a breath of time for him to decide that he would purchase it and wrap it for Aiden, collecting the book in his arms along with the one Millie had so endearingly gushed over.

It was strange, he mused, to think that it was their first time out and about as anything real. They had gone to lunch once, he remembered, right after their meeting. But that had involved a lot of apologizing and making promises he wasn't sure at the time he would be able to keep. Now, those promises didn't seem so difficult. The physical factor he had been so nervous about wasn't at all an issue. Clearly. Because he was so sure, thinking back on everything that had happened to them lately. He couldn't be wrong.

It hit him hard in the chest: he was going to have to be a father, even if by some weird twist of fate he was wrong about Millie expecting right then. He was fairly certain he was okay with this. Almost entirely sure. The only question was if Millie was ready. Or if they would agree on things that were so important to their future. Where they would live – he didn't mind losing his flat – or how they would handle children. How many did she even want? He wondered, turning to look at her over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

The fact that Millie had yet to say anything made him even more concerned. Sure, if he heard it from her – or was there when she found out (which, obviously, would have been preferable for someone so unsure until yesterday where they stood) – he would still have been thinking about it. But now he could hardly keep his mind off of it, regardless. Merlin, but he was tempted to just walk over and wrap his arms around her. To just set his hands there and see what she did. But the holiday had already been rather strange so far and Keiran was loathe to push Millie after everything.

In time, they collected their purchases into a bag and moved on, braving the wind that came with being outside of a booth or stall. Along the way, his gaze landed on a small shop advertising pets of all sorts. He would have to come back and look into it when Millie was out or at home. He quickly diverted his gaze before gesturing to one that sold scarves of different sorts. After toying around with many of them, wrapping his wife up with far too many at once or the most ridiculous ones he could find, Keiran decided that he was properly off his jump. Millie had completely dumped him on his head and left him to figure why in Merlin's name he was acting so strange.

It was just being around her, he figured, that did it. There was no other explanation for it.

“Let's make a deal,” he suggested as they left the stall, glancing at her yet unable to wrap himself around her in any way due to his offering to hold their purchases (if his mates could see him now... He was practically whipped!). “We each get a day to go out shopping, but the other has to guarantee not to spy on what we bring back. That way we can actually find something, you know, as a surprise.”

After a moment of thought he added, “If there's a day you're planning to go out with friends or anything, I can go then. And whenever you want to get anything, you can tell me to piss off and I'll go write some letters and see who's available. That sound decent?”


(OOC: You should Skype/PM me. I had an idea but it's too darn late for me to write it out right now. I'm sure I'll remember, though.)