My Darling, the heart did indeed grow fonder.

The trickle of a tributary over rocks and foliage added to the mystery of the garden. The bushes that lined and concealed the fences from view were swollen with ripened berries that squabbling birds and squirrels quarrelled over, not realising that there was plenty to go around and provide for them. Gooseberries were Anna’s favourite and Athena Rookwood was slowly making her way around her garden with her daughter, allowing the little girl to pick off the best fruits and eat a few, though not before dousing them in water to ensure their cleanliness for her eating. All the while, though, one eye was on the mischievous twins romping with the St. Bernard that could read their behaviour as well as their mother though could not do as much to prevent or reproach them for it. Under the watchful eyes of Nana, they’d managed to discover an ant’s nest and were delighting in allowing the tiny creatures to run riot over their hands and up their arms. The dog sniffed, as disgusted as Athena was at the sight of them, and nudged Archibald away, only really succeeding in rolling the giggling boy over.

Spring had dawned with the warmth of the morning, melting away what ice and slush had lingered in the closing days of autumn. The grass had sprouted thick and emerald and daffodils with it, providing great blockades of mustard, disturbing the verdant blanket that was eagerly soaking up the bright sunshine that spread down over the world. The light shone off of the ebony curls that bobbed in the gentle breeze coming off the stream and brought warmth and colour back to the cheeks that had paled in the winter’s harshness. Smiles returned and there was an airiness about the place that Athena Rookwood took a moment to enjoy before being tugged along by her insistent, impatient daughter.

The morning had arrived and the small family had rushed out to enjoy what happiness spring had brought and in doing so, had forgotten to have any form of breakfast so it was with a great fever that they all began to take from the basket of gooseberries; much to the annoyance of Anna who couldn’t help herself either, really. In the end, it was the bark of Nana that made Athena realise that she needed to get something more wholesome into her babies lest they wanted to feel ill from the sugar. Athena lifted Anna up onto her hip in one fluid movement and the girl gave a small shriek, dropping the berries she held in her hands. Athena laughed a little at the indignant look she was shot by her daughter but settled regardless.

Nana hopped down from the veranda and began to shepherd the boys towards the back door, allowing Athena to go ahead. Once inside, she set her daughter down at the breakfast table, careful to make sure she was safe and secure before moving into the kitchen area, setting the basket of fruit down on the counter before beginning to potter. Soon enough, omelettes were being made and bacon was sizzling in a pan while the children picked through a box of muesli, picking out bits they like, keen to leave their mother the nasty aspects of the cereal. Athena watched the trio out of the corner of her eye as she fixed a bottle for Anna and glasses of warm milk for the boys, keen to get them away from drinking out of such brightly coloured cups before they went to school properly.

Athena didn’t notice immediately that her dog had disappeared. It was only until Nana’s bark resounded through the house that she realised the fluffy creature wasn’t in the room. She set the drinks down on the breakfast table, absent-mindedly rubbing her fingers through Augustus’ hair, a silent request for him to hold the fort before leaving the breakfast room, making for the door hesitantly as she was not quite sure who would call upon them at such an hour. The wagging of Nana’s tail was a great reassurance to Athena, however, and she unlocked the door with a little more courage, only to be set at ease when she met the gaze of the figure that stood in her porch with a wide grin on his face, his arms laden with parcels.

“Good Morning, Madame!” came the gruff yet lyrical voice of the man she’d come to depend on far more than she should have done over the course of her residing in the small town of Cockleworth. “I hope you’re well. I’ve got your dry cleaning, a few books for the children and some food for this evening. Also, I carry with me a very expensive bottle of wine. Say you’ll dine with me?”

Athena could only do but stare, her mouth gaping open and closed in a rather undignified display of incredulity before eventually stuttering: “Theo, what on earth are you doing here?”

The dark-haired man before her pouted momentarily before pressing forward, sliding past her into the house but not before stealing a kiss from her rose-bud lips. He smiled smugly upon realising his luck and quickly darted away for fear of reproach from the object of his rather intense affections. Athena was frozen with horror at his audacity and it took her a moment or two before she could close the door, shaken from her reverie and all-encompassing fear by the shriek of her children who adored Theodore Stafford; feelings that were entirely mutual on Theo’s part. He saw no need to have his own children when he found such joy in those of Athena Rookwood.

It was a few minutes before Athena joined the foursome in the kitchen and found, much to her delight, that Theo had taken over the cooking. He looked up when he released she was lingering in the doorway and flashed her a smile before turning away, embarrassed. Athena busied herself with her children, taking the muesli from them in exchange for milk. The children were happy enough to take a proper breakfast but regardless of this, Athena plucked Anna from her seat and took the girl off into the dining room to sit in the arm chair by the window in order to sit and read to her from their ‘morning book’ while she contentedly drank from her bottle.

Soon enough, the boys were fed and out in the garden once more, Nana hot on their heels, and in Athena’s arms, Anna indulged in her mid-morning nap. The young woman, seizing an opportunity to get some work done, laid her child down on the sofa in the living room and covered her with a throw before returning to the kitchen with a mind to change all of the linens upstairs and perhaps even begin to wash the curtains in the house. It was there that she found Theo, serving up breakfast for them and setting it down in plates on the table.

“I know for a fact, Miss Rookwood, that you have not had a hot meal for a week. Now sit.”

Theo grasped at her hands lightly and led her to the tables. Athena went willingly but knew she was well within reason to refuse him. Theo had never manhandled her. He had never forced her. He’d merely smiled at her and taken her hands loosely, allowing her the choice of going with him or going her own way and she’d made decisions in both areas many times before and he’d accepted it. He’d always taken her word above all else. Never had he argued with her unless he had anything other than her best interests at mind – well, her enjoyment of life really. Athena knew that had she not allowed Theodore into her life then she would not have lasted as long as she had in the Muggle world.

“Why did you do this?” Athena asked in wonder, her stomach rumbling at the sight of the breakfast regardless of her reservations towards it.

“Thea, come on. It’s your birthday, love. Treat yourself for once, eh?” He replied easily, picking up the cutlery he’d set down and offering her a knife and fork.

Athena smiled a little and took from him what he offered though not before asking, “Why me?”

Theo raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly at her. “Haven’t we had this discussion before? I told you: women with children attract me.”

Athena laughed aloud. “Don’t lie!” She exclaimed, stabbing at his hand with her fork. “Seriously.”

“You needed a friend.” Theo replied, sobering them both. “And I’m here for you.”

The bark of Nana shook the pair and the stare they shared was broken, the moment shattered and the cliché of a kiss waiting to happen was thrown from their minds as Athena lurched from the table, moving at a speed Theo had never seen her move at before. Athena reached the back door in a second, moving at what looked to him as a superhuman speed. She threw herself off of the porch and Theo was quick to follow her, stumbling out into the garden to see Nana before the two boys, down low and openly growling at a tall, dark-haired individual that was unrecognisable to Theo but beside him, Athena froze.

“Get away from them!” Theo’s voice broke Athena from her reverie and she sunk back, feeling her wand jitter against her thigh. Or rather, Kendall’s wand. “What do you think you’re doing? This is trespassing. I could have you arrested you know!”

The distraction gave Archie and Gus the time to skitter away and they passed beneath Theo’s legs and hurried to their mother who grasped at them with relief, sinking down to her knees and winding her arms around their waists. Her eyes were pulled wide as she checked them over, furiously making sure that they had not been harmed though in her heart she knew Kendall would not have hurt them and she hated herself for even checking – but check she did.

“Mother,” Gus’s whisper made Athena look up as she was turning over his hands and arms. “Is that...pa?”

Athena closed her eyes, listening vaguely to the exclamations of Theo who was proving to her more and more rapidly why she did not deal with Muggles. Athena rose to her feet and removed her wand from the case strapped to her leg. She lifted it into the air and with a quick flick of the wrist, cast Stupefy, sending Theo toppling onto the grass.

“Kendall Kaeden Rookwood, what in Merlin’s name do you think you are doing here?”

Augustus broke from her side at the confirmation and nigh galloped to his father but Archibald hung back, his bright eyes hiding behind his mother’s legs, his hands pulling tighter at her denim dungarees, unsure of the whole situation. Augustus knew no bounds, however, and launched himself at Kendall as if he remembered his father and had not forgotten the ills associated with his family and the suffering of his mother. Athena felt a twinge of betrayal but could not blame her son. No, she could never blame her treasured boy.

She blamed his father.

The last couple of years were spent fighting the thick slime of darkness meant to keep the mind from sanity. Yet, even as Kendall Rookwood stepped out into the light of nature for the thirty-seventh time, he knew that the darkness did not get left behind. He barely remembered his youth. There was a boy who thought he was a man. He had his whole world in the palms of his hands. But darkness caught up with its disrepair. And then life took on the fabric of his nightmares. It – his youth – began to sound like a dark children’s rhyme, an art detached from the mimetic nature of its supposed self. Kendall struggled. The sting of pain that shot through his eyes blinded him, cruelly putting him back into place, in the comfort of torture, in the dark fantasy of the days of Azkaban. He didn’t know if he should fight for the right for sunlight. It was a ridiculous thought. But who knew what was left of him? Who knew what he had become? The man took a few steps back. His shoulders bore nothing of the swagger that used to be. Instead, they hung his very person. The limbs and the body seemed to hang from the shoulders by the weakest of threads. The House Elves who tended to Kendall had not dared to point out the fact that he might, at least for now, require a change of wardrobe. It wasn’t the trend that had buckled; it was their master. The boy had filled his clothes with a body evidently blessed from whatever athleticism it had invested in. The man, unfortunately, was the bluest of health. The clothes had gotten a little too baggy on the man. Kendall squeezed his eyes shut, reeling from the pain of light, and refusing to see.

Fortunately, despite the excessive energy it had momentarily demanded of him, Kendall had enough in him for a successful apparation. It was a risk doing it when he was still so weak from the ordeal, but thirty-seven days out of Azkaban and he could not wait. His part of the manor was almost muted. Yet, even with the strong foundations of Rookwood walls, he could hear everything. Everyone whispered so loudly, even the House Elves. He was ruined, wasn’t he? Even Augustus took the ordeal better than he did, and Augustus was the weakest of his brothers. And Cordelia stayed the course. She never left her husband’s side, staying by his bedside even when his bed was made in Azkaban. What was there left for Kendall? Couldn’t keep his wife, couldn’t keep his family, and couldn’t keep his sorry tush from Azkaban: an even sorrier state than his father. Kendall pretended not to hear any of it. One could grow accustomed to that sort of abuse after the voices in Azkaban. He didn’t know how to hurt. How does one hurt when nothing was good enough for a juxtaposition to qualify the hurt? Kendall sat in darkness and ate close to nothing. He saw nobody except Elijah Krum. Even so, he barely spoke to his friend. There was only question that needed an answer.

Where is Athena?

Kendall regained his footing just as he tried to tide over the temporary period of laboured breathing that the force of the apparation took out of him. Slowly, he let his eyes adjust to the light of day just as he realised that he had a hand against his chest, steadying the beats of his heart. Here was a man who wasn’t even thirty, but the mortality of his age felt like a century to him. Oddly enough, for a man who lived the way he did for the last thirty-seven days, Kendall Rookwood had what felt like the last fight in him saved for a task he was determined to do. Most of it was wasted on arguments with Eli over his health. Kendall didn’t take doubts over his abilities well, especially not when he was so determined with this. Eli relented; the tussle was going to take forever if he had not.

The voices of children playing played themselves to his ears. Kendall turned slowly, spotted the boys, and felt the oppressive clench in his heart. He knew them, instantly. He was here now. He was really here, now. For three years he had waited, dreamt, and hallucinated even, the scene. The resentment was still there. It was the resentment that he knew meant something a lot more positive than he would let it seem to be. He hated how he needed the memories of her, them, to pull through the pain of three years. He hated to need her. Yet, here he was. Kendall began to walk in slow, laboured steps; never taking his eyes off the boys. He barely paid attention to the garden. Instead, it was the ring in their voices. He didn’t know where to place his eyes when he wanted so much to enjoy their smiles, their laughters, even when the indulgence caused the pain to rumble within him. Then, suddenly, there was a dog. The smiles, the laughters; interrupted. Kendall stared at the dog, returning menace for menace. He was just beginning to feel something good from watching the boys. He hated that it had to stop. He sensed more movement before he heard them. Kendall looked up and, once again, had to give patience to his eyes as they adjusted to the world. There was yelling now, but here, it blended with the voices around him that he had learnt to fade out away from. What other choice could one have when the voice at Azkaban did more than chill the hollow shells of one’s bones?

Instead, Kendall fixed his eyes on the woman. His face set in an inexplicable amount of pain. He didn’t mean for it. In the hallucinations he had about the scene, there was no pain, only happiness. Yet, it was all he could conjure up for the years lost, yet unlost with the memories he gripped onto for survival. Athena, Athena, Athe … He called out to her with all the energies his heart could muster. Yet, even as it did, he knew his mouth uttered not a single word. The moment was saved at the first moment of magic. And now, now he could make sense of words. Yet, before he could find some sense of speech, the boy was by his side. And, strange as it was to him, he found it in himself to set aside the presence of Athena for the joy of having his firstborn standing close enough for an embrace. Kendall stared at the boy, pulling back the impulse. He was uncertain. He knew how to make human contact, but he didn’t know too, at the same time. This was his son; he ached to reach for him. Yet, he raised a hand and, slowly, ran it through his unkempt hair. He was too lost from the ordeal to consider if there was patience in this place for him to heal.