Strawberries Are The Only Fruit

The life of a chef was one that Theodore Rookwood understood. It comprised of mixing things, like you were some sort of elaborate potioneer, and your principle requirement was to make people happy. That was the goal. With the help of those who had been hired along with him, he managed to create a ridiculous, kaleidoscopic array of dishes that would see people’s faces light up as they tried something new or, even better, tried a different take on something they remembered from their childhoods. He loved to peek through the kitchen windows to catch the excitement of the children as they tucked into fabled desserts, when not moments ago they’d sat down as adults, bogged down by reality. For a moment they were taken out of themselves. That was what food did. And even when it got hard, sometimes damn near impossible, he loved it because it was what he could do. It was all he could do, he thought sometimes.

It was one of those Thursdays when rain turned the summer in, admonishing it for sending the public outside. All it did was send the public into him, asking after food made for summer, to help them remember that it was still shining blue skies and hot sun somewhere, even if it wasn’t there in that moment. He was run ragged, busied by everything and everyone because seemingly the whole world was falling apart at the grill. Coaxing through one of the younger girls through a roux sauce base, he finally got things going again and steaks were fired up, salads tossed and things were going out of the door just as he wanted. That was when he managed to steal a break, rolling a cigarette under the awning outside the back door. He lit up, blowing silvery smoke into the cool, crackling air. Leaning his head against the wall he watched as the storm clouds began to rumble by, sending forked lightning across the sky.

“Theo?” A gentle voice wandered out to him and he turned his head to look at Maggie, the redheaded sous chef, hanging her head out of the back door.

“Yes babe?” he inquired with a half-smile as he blew the smoke out of his nose. He dropped his hand down to his side, sending the smoke in the opposite direction, away from the door and he gestured for Maggie to step out onto the pavement.

“Someone ordered something that’s not on the menu,” she began, prompting Theodore to arch his eyebrow. “She ordered melt-in-the-middle truffles – said you’d know how to make them. D’you-”

Before she could finish her sentence, the cigarette had been plunged into the canary yellow bucket that had been collecting water from a leaky gutter that no one could be bothered to fix and Theodore had bruised past her, nigh carrying her back into the restaurant, pausing only to make sure she was upright and balanced before throwing himself through the kitchen, weaving around the other chefs and the cleaners until he was deep within the pantry, opening up the industrial sized fridge. From that he took the order, putting them onto a neat pile on a plate. He then scooted his way out of the fridge, the pantry and then the kitchen.

At once, Theodore was in the dining room and his heart caught in his throat as he set eyes on her, sitting at one of the tables by the window, her wide, dark blue eyes peering out through the windows at the rain. But it wasn’t just her. She who had never changed. It wasn’t her alone. It was the little person that was sat in her lap holding a sunflower in her tight little fist. Because, of course, he knew exactly who that was. Really, he had known exactly who it had been, what the visit would mean. Only one person in the world knew to order that from him. There was only one person in the world who he had ever made them for. Cressida.

She turned, her pouting, perfect lips spreading into a hopeful smile that lit up her cheeks that were deepened in colour with the affection of the sunshine over the last handful of weeks before the rain came. He paused, losing his countenance. Losing everything. His heart was out of his chest. The breath was absent in his lungs. His eyes were filled with her. His mind was alight with every memory, every kiss. He felt he knew her, even though it had been so long. He knew he could trace his hands over her skin and he’d know where to go. He’d know the places where she loved him to touch her, where she hated him to but secretly coveted. He knew her. But she was a stranger, secretly.

Theodore set the plate down gently on the table and she looked at him, moisture rising in her eyes. So he hadn’t forgotten, he considered that she must have thought. He wanted to tell her that he’d never forget – not as long as he lived. Her eyes fell to his hands then, catching the glint of gold on his left hand. She lifted her gaze, determined to ignore, to not look. Theodore took roost in the seat opposite and stared at her openly, taking in her features, wondering if he could see any change within her. But there was none. She was Cressida still. If he closed his eyes, he was sure he could imagine her still his.

“Cris,” he murmured. “Jesus, I-”

“You remembered,” she replied, her voice scratchy with emotion. He nodded. She mirrored him. “Missed you,” she added.

“Missed you more,” he retorted. Both smiled shyly, averting their looks to the things around them. The baby cooed, extending her arm to Theodore, brandishing the sunflower, extending it towards him. He looked up and hesitantly glanced at Cressida, encouraged by her nod. He unfurled his fingers and the baby brought the sunflower down into his palm, releasing it from her own little fist.

“Thank you,” Theo whispered, inciting a broad smile on the baby’s face.

Cressida readjusted her daughter in her arms and looked at Theodore with a grave expression on her face. He frowned a little, twiddling the sunflower in his hand as he looked at her and she sighed heavily, turning her head away, her lips moving quickly as she spoke to him.

“I’m out of money, Theo.” She spoke carefully, swallowing hard. “I’m back home with my parents and I… well, I got a job but they don’t want to help me anymore than they have to so I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look after Esme.”

Theodore sucked in a breath. Esme. Her name was Esme. It fit her, he decided. She looked like her mother did when she was her age. Theodore could remember when he and Cressida had pored over baby photographs. He’d laughed and teased her and had nibbled on the end of her nose when she’d wrinkled it indignantly at him. She had his hair though, a shock of dark fluff that was nonsensical yet endearing across the globe of her scalp. That was all of him he could see in her. She was her mother all over and it half killed him, half set his heart about in song.

“Theodore,” she pressed, shaking him from his reverie. “I need you to take care of her. I need you to be her father, Ted.”

Something in Theodore caught and stalled. He didn’t know whether it was her demand or whether it was the endearment but suddenly he was spiralling and he didn’t have anything to anchor himself on. She wanted him to be a father – Esme’s… Esme’s father. There was part of him that conceded that he already was set to be one, the same part that had conceded that he was already one. Yet, he wasn’t. He was just a donor, a man who had weaselled out of doing anything because of his grandfather’s aversion to blood disparity and his father’s desire to see a clean marriage happen for his son. Neither had gotten their wish.

“You… no, the contract-” he spluttered.

“-I already broke it by seeing you,” she cut in harshly. “Ted, please. I swear to god… you need to just do this for me, please. I don’t know what I’ll have to do if I can’t give her to you.”

“But I have a wife, Cris,” he protested. Her face fell. “I… Cris come on.” He murmured pitifully.

“Teddy,” she sighed. “I wouldn’t ask you if there was another option. I’m on my last legs.”

“I can give you money.” He offered helpfully. She snorted scornfully in response. “What?” He pouted.

“Theodore Rookwood don’t you think that if you had money you wouldn’t be working here?” She asked rhetorically, raising her eyebrows sassily. Theodore dropped his eyes shamefully. “No, I don’t want your money, anyway. I want you to be her father. I’ve made that clear. Teddy please. I am begging you as much as it kills me. I need you to do this. Please.”

Eventually, Theodore nodded and one of the smiles that had made him breathless for so long lit up her face. She stood and took a moment to wrap her arms tightly around their daughter. Esme. She kissed her hair, brushed her fingers across her face, and Theodore stood up. Then the baby exchanged arms and though she extended her grasp back to her mother she did not cry and allowed Theodore to curl her back into his chest, one hand holding her carefully while the other began to rub circles into her little back through the orange dress she wore.

“Thank you Teddy,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him soundly on the mouth.

It was their first kiss in years. He held their baby girl between them. There was part of him that knew that it was the way it always should have been but then the other part knew also that it wasn’t ever going to be like that. It hadn’t any hope of being like that. So, with a heavy heart and deep regret he pulled away, savouring the taste of her on his lips. She smiled a little, her lips curling up lopsidedly, and she reached to wipe the lipstick from his mouth.

“I love you,” she told him, told them both. She kissed Esme’s head again and lifted the bag of her things, of her little life, onto the chair. Then, suddenly, she was gone again. She was out of his life as though she had never been there in the first place. And Esme? Esme started to cry.

“Close the restaurant!” Theodore shouted, bundling back into the kitchen. “Kick everyone out!” He exclaimed. “Give them free meal vouchers for the next time they come! Family meeting!”

In the flurry of activity, the screaming child was plucked from Theodore’s arms and set down on one of the work surfaces. She continued to cry, her tears sliding down over her cheeks, and the chefs went through everything to try and console her until one stuck a strawberry under her nose. Then, suddenly, she fell silent and her little fist reached out and took the strawberry, a short, garbled ‘ta’ emerging from her lips. Theodore’s hand fell from around his mouth and they all watched, the last of the waiters bumbling in through the doors as quiet as possible in their haste, as she took the first bite of the soft fruit. She chewed, tipping her head from side to side, and swallowed before taking another bite and another. Someone put the punnet down beside her and another ‘ta’ leapt from her chest as she reached in for another.

“So that’s your daughter then, eh?” Maggie asked brightly. Theodore could only muster a nod. “She’s beautiful, Theo.”

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “She looks so much like her mother. Bloody Cressida. She couldn’t have made an ugly baby, could she?”

“You couldn’t either,” she pointed out with a smirk. He perked up a bit at the compliment. “Right, now,” she added seriously. “What is the plan here?”

Theodore deflated again, watching as some of the younger chefs began to make faces as Esme, provoking light, bubbly laughter in her. Beside him, Maggie lifted the bag of things up onto the table he was leaning against. He turned a little and looked as she opened it up and began to sift through the clothes and toiletries and toys in abundance and a shrunken cot and changing table and all the other trappings that were to go with his daughter. This was it, he realised with a start. He’d have to find a room for her. He’d have to give her a home. He’d have to be her father. And what scared him more than anything was that he wanted it, too.

“You’ve plenty of room at home, don’t you?” Maggie inquired, echoing his thoughts as she looked up.

“Yeah. I expect one of the front rooms will be nice. It’ll let all the light in and stuff. She’d probably like that.” He suggested, looking to Maggie for her approval. Maggie nodded, smiling at him. “Okay,” he exhaled. “How do I tell Hallie, guys?”

“You’ve got to take her home,” one of the Irish students Theo had plucked out of Sligo and brought back with him offered from the back. “Why not make a nice dinner and try and make it … less bloody awful, mate.”

So that was what he did. Well, tried to anyway. The pair apparated home with the strawberries and Theodore set the things down along with the baby – putting her on the sofa and the living room with her fruit – and he began to pace up and down the hallway trying to figure out how in Merlin’s name he was going to make it less bloody awful. He couldn’t, he decided. There was no way that this wasn’t going to be completely inescapably awful – and that was before his grandfather found out.

“Esmeeee…” he groaned, striding into the living room, the baby the only one worth talking to. “Please, give me something here. Your mum is terrific. I’d do anything for her. But I’m married, you see, so this is totally really…completely and utterly not convenient so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Esme offered him a strawberry. That was as good as any idea, he figured, so he picked the baby up, moved her onto his hip and in that afternoon he mastered the art of dancing with his daughter whilst feeding them both to bursting with strawberries whilst at the same time cooking with only one hand.

They abandoned themselves into the arm chair in the living room when the initial prep for dinner was ready. He put his feet up on the ottoman, toeing off his shoes onto the floor and with a stray hand as he leaned heavily against the pillows he pulled off Esme’s orange shoes, tossing them down with his. She snuggled up, half in the crook of his arm, half on his chest with her head lulled in his neck. Once he took her alice band from her head – sending that onto the floor too – he relaxed against her just as she did with him and soon enough, the two were enveloped in sleep, snoring softly while the music played to itself in the kitchen.

Busy day. That was the day Hallie had endured from nine until quarter past six. A busy day. Not that her days weren't ever anything but busy although as of late her days seemed to be longer and time passed slower. What did she expect though? A fully accomplished auror, pregnant and taking on leadership of the Order of the Phoenix? It was a surprise the stress of it all hadn't popped the baby out of her four months prematurely.

Pansy Parkinson-Nott, the beloved Daily Prophet reporter, had once again thrown shade on the ministry in her writing. This time making out, in a more subtle way than usual, that the ministry was behind the disappearances of the education board of governors. Of course Hallie didn't blame her, the Ministry had the means to do just that but what was their motive? Who knows.

Hallie didn't quite know what to think of the ministry lately. On one hand there was the snake, illegal laws being enforced and a new regime but on the other she got to do a job she loved. A job where she could really make a difference to society, help bring justice to the world and more comfort to any families affected by the working of dark wizards. However, given the current political climate, the auror wasn't doing much of that at all.

Not one witch, but three, had attached themselves to stakes in Hogsmede Village. They had been protesting, making a statement that they would rather be burnt at the stake than forced to marry. A few members of the law enforcement squad had dropped by the village to dampen down their protests. Not the best plan. The witches got angry, took out their wands and began to hex the Ministry officials into a state of befuddlement before moving on to any citizen in the village who had followed the law before... Dun dun dun. The Aurors were caused to the scene.

This had been the most exciting task Hallie had found herself wrapped up in for a long time. Unfortunately Pansy Parkinson-Nott hadn't been present at the scene, no doubt she would have highlighted the fact the ministry had sent a whole army of Aurors to deal with a problem with crowd control, taking them away from tasks such as capturing Felix Barker. Not that anybody had been assigned that mission, in fact nobody was on that mission at all. Pansy had been correct in her article: the entire force of the magical law was being directed to deal with any hiccoughs with matrimonium legem.

After bringing the witches into the ministry, having them placed in a holding cell and writing a report on the case Hallie now found herself leaving the office half an hour later than she had hoped. Theodore had been working for a while as a chef at Babbity's now and with Hallie heading off to do work for the Order the two hardly had any time together in the evenings. Unfortunately this was another one of those evenings.

Instead of going straight home Hallie had found herself walking around the ministry in search for any suspicious activity. Whether it be too unlikely matches spotted in deep, private conversation or someone hiding in the shadows waiting for the coast to be clear for... Hallie had no clue. All she knew was that someone in that building was responsible for the actions of the three witches that day. They were responsible for the unrest, the sadness, the lack of faith and trust between citizens that was slowly growing around the country. Hallie wanted the person responsible for the illegally forged laws and education decrees found, trialled and sentenced to Azkaban.

Half an hour later brought the time to six o' clock. Theodore wouldn't be wondering where his wife was for she hardly ever came home before six nowadays. He didn't seem to kick up a fuss on this, in fact it was never brought up in conversation.

The blonde was eager to return home to a lovely prepared meal, as always, from the handsome Mr Rookwood. Heck she was eager to rip off her clothes and fall into bed with her husband but given her pregnant state that seemed unlikely. Instead the witch popped in on Grimmauld Place. Nothing. Nobody was there, nobody had left any memos on the kitchen table. There had been no updates what so ever. It would have been nice to find a few people in the kitchen catching up, maybe in an upstairs bedroom practising their duelling skills as she had done four days ago but today was different. Maybe Hallie hadn't been the only person to have a busy day.

Now the clock ticked quarter past six and Hallie was walking through the front door. She was home at last. Finally her shoes could be kicked off, and she would be able to relax. Hopefully read a bit of witch weekly to destress from the chaos that was her life lately.

Something smelt good, a little more cooked than usual but perhaps Theodore was trying something new? Immediately her instinct was to pace into the kitchen to find... Nobody. A pan was simmering and whatever was in the oven smelled incredible, albeit a little forgotten, but incredible. Surely it was ready for serving?

'Theo?' Hallie called out, dropping her bag on the kitchen table and taking her coat off to hand on a hook behind the kitchen door.

'Theodore?' Hallie repeated, this time shouting louder and making her way out of the kitchen and back into the hallway. There was mail on the side , unopened. That seemed odd. Usually Theodore opened the mail no matter how preoccupied he was.

Thinking nothing on it Hallie noticed a letter addressed to her, from her Mother. Opening the letter Hallie began to read, not taking in her surroundings as she padded into the sitting room.

So she was worried about Toby again. Hallie had told her she needed to let him make friends, spread his wings, discover who he really was but according to Professor Cooper she wasn't too thrilled at the amount of time he was spending with Longbottom. If only she knew. Hallie thought.

Placing the letter on a coffee table (she would reply later) her eyes caught sight of an Alice band laid aimlessly on the carpet. Not far from that was a pair of little orange shoes that made Hallie want to burst with emotion, scoop them up and envision them on her own child. Then.

'Theo, there you-' She'd found her husband. Her husband who wasn't alone. Now Hallie had discovered the reasoning behind the baby clothes on the floor, which she had been too distracted to take fully into detail. Theodore was snoozing with his mouth open, a baby (girl by the attire) strewn across him.

'Whose little angel are you?' Hallie said in a cartoon voice whilst a Motherly desire to cradle the baby washed over her.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, the broodiness that Hallie had developed the past five months, that prevented her from screaming out. Instead she wandered across, scooped the baby in her arms and...

You'd think someone was being murdered. The baby was screaming, tears streaming down its face; Hallie was panicking trying to keep it still as it withered in her arms and a rather nasty smell was coming from the cute little body before her. She'd physically 'shit scared' a baby.

The afternoon hours were whiled away by the sleeping father and daughter who were observed by the dying sunshine that snuck in through the tall front sash windows that overlooked a brighter portion of Knockturn Alley that was more residential than it was focused on Dark Wizardry and all the rest of it. It was Theodore’s townhouse of sorts. Well, his home. A few doors down was where Elijah lived when he was in London and a few doors down from there Theodore’s cousin Kendall held court, wooing everyone and anyone who walked in through the door. But this was Theodore’s home, dressed in his semi child unfriendly tastes though Athena’s children – situated not that far away thankfully – always managed to make it into some sort of playground. There was no doubt in his mind that Esme would do the same but that afternoon those thoughts were far from his mind because the two slept on softly. In the time that elapsed, nuclear war could’ve broken out but neither would’ve cared.

When the screams started, however, Theodore was plunged into ice cold water as it were as he was pulled from his dreams. He looked up, bleariness leaving him unceremoniously as his eyes found the red faced child sobbing at his wife. Theodore got to his feet and immediately relieved Hallie of Esme who didn’t stop her tears but certainly quietened her screams to little sniffles. Theodore considered that in relation to Hallie, he was the equivalent of the strawberry of earlier and he took it as a good sign – it wasn’t going to be a completely mammoth task that Cressida had stuck him with after all. However, it appeared as though the real test of his resolve was going to strike him now because countenance aside, the rude awakening had inspired in his daughter the same reaction that he was sure he would have had at the same age and he looked at Hallie with a wry, weary smile before plodding towards the sofa where he’d abandoned Esme’s bag.

“Okay,” he mumbled to her. “What’s your mum done with the stuff, eh?” She sniffled at him and Theodore sighed heavily, burrowing thorough the bag for toiletries stuff. He managed to lay his hands on it quite quickly, Maggie having had the sense that it would be needed sooner rather than later and he threw it out onto the sofa, looking between it and the baby.

“Hey Hal, by the way,” he chuckled, pulling his wand out from his pocket and flicking it at the things. He wasn’t prepared to muck in the Muggle way. He certainly hadn’t been brought up like that and he didn’t want to have to suffer through putting Esme through it. Plus, magic was ever quicker and, knitting his eyes shut, he flicked his wand over her and as though nothing had even happened she was his clean baby again and, as though his magic had more of a paternal quality to it than him, she had been divested of her uncomfortable dress and plopped in a baby grow covered in snitches.

“Right,” he said, satisfied, sending the nappy and other things away to the bowels of hell with a charm. Then, he tucked his wand behind his ear and scooped Esme back up once more, holding her tightly, popping a brief kiss on her head as the fact that he had to drop this unholy bomb washed over him. However, what grasped him next was the fact that dinner was, despite being put on low, probably burning so before anything else could be said Theodore darted out of the room and endeavoured to rescue the dinner, using his one armed skills to take everything out of the oven and shove it on the side.

Thankfully, the peppers he and Esme had stuffed were only a little bit charred on top but he was in luck because he quite liked them like that. Following that the tuna steaks looked alright because they had been put beneath the peppers and thus were semi survived. The onions he was going to put into the salad were cremated, however and Esme pouted, exemplifying his feelings on the matter as neither of them had really enjoyed the onions episode because he’d had to put her down on the side, use his hip to keep her from sliding off and cut onions without crying himself.

“Well, we’re buggered then, baby,” he told her with a smirk. She looked at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. He snorted, prompting a slow smile to spread across Esme’s face. “Yeah, I dunno either, kid. Okay, Hal… I think, we’re sort of ready.”

Theodore ran his hand over his face and sighed heavily before taking his wand out again, sending the food about to plate itself up. Then, once he sent a few flames at the candles on the table he managed to not entirely collapse into his chair. He set Esme down on his knee, bouncing her idly as he did with Archie, Athena’s son, and watched through his sleepy eyes as she reached out immediately for one of the napkins, opening it up and putting it on her head, turning her head to see what he thought about it.

“Prettiest girl in the world,” he assured her with a smile, throwing his arm over the back of the chair beside his.

Theodore waited until Hallie had taken a seat before he decided that it was probably best to talk. He figured it was better to ruin dinner and maybe get dessert in than wait until they were mid-way through before he dropped the figurative bomb. He sighed again and sat up a little, making Esme lose her grip on the napkin. It floated down to the floor and she gave out a little indignant cry, pointing to it and looking up at him with a terse expression. Theo had no choice but to lean down and get it and for his trouble he had the curly hair at the nape of his neck grabbed at but his little girl and he winced, hissing in pain, twisting it his head out of her grasp but ending in losing a wodge of hair in the interim.

“Witch,” he accused her softly, only sending her into a fit of giggles as he dropped the napkin back onto her head.

“So I’m not going to bother lying,” he told Hallie, biting the inside of his lip. “My ex and I managed to make this,” he tapped Esme’s middle where he’d linked his arm to stop her from sliding off his knee and she looked down at his hand, her hand coming to tap at it in response. He smiled a little despite himself. “And…” he pursed his lips a little, turning his head away shamefully. “It was all dealt with by dear old dad because she’s not… she was a Muggleborn so I’m full of putrid hypocrisy for a start and I mean, it’s a bloody miracle I got that far let alone us having a child but, uh. It was all meant to go away because it was a stain or something and they needed me because I’m the spare and just in case Leo died – which would be such a god damn shame – they needed someone to marry pure. I obviously didn’t in the end anyway so it’s a completely stupid situation but … I, uh. Cris. She, she’s out of cash and out of options and decided to hang the contract Raghnall and dad put her in so I would look after Esme because I’m … I don’t know, a stable option?” He shook his head, looking down at the baby who was playing with the rings on his fingers. “So, yep. She’s about a year old nearly. Give or take. I dunno. It’s pretty mystifying to me. So there we go. She’s mine. She doesn’t really look much like me thank god but there we are.”

That wasn’t the best news in the world. He was sure it must have been on par – if not worse – for his grandmother when she found out that his grandfather was taking up with another woman in the same house, making a new set out children. Augustus was the product of that, and all of the ridiculous trappings that went with it. It wasn’t  the same betrayal – it had all happened before he’d met Hallie – but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that she wasn’t going to ballistic in some capacity. He wouldn’t be took put out if he was chucked out – or she left. He would’ve understood. It was desperately ridiculous. It stupid. But he had responsibilities now. He didn’t have a choice.

“Look, I know it would be easier to foist her off on my mum and have them deal with it but I can’t. I don’t want her brought up like I was and I just… I don’t know. I was crap. I was stupid. I didn’t assert myself because she’s my family too and I just took the easy option out and I need to make up for that. So I’m not… I’m not abandoning you or anything like that because that’s stupid – I love you, Hal – I’m just… I guess I’m going to be putting us through our paces in pre-Cooper-Rookwood training.”

“Bu-fly!” Esme exclaimed, shoving out her hand, throwing the napkin onto the floor again. Theodore looked up and watched as the insect she named fluttered past the window. He looked down and lifted her onto her feet, holding her by her middle so she could see.

“That’s right,” he told her with a smile. “Butterfly. That one’s a red admiral. There are probably cabbage whites out there, too. They’re evil though. They eat all the vegetabubbles.”

Esme managed to look scandalised as she abandoned herself back down onto his lap and though he was sure she wasn’t entirely certain what he meant, he didn’t care because he suddenly felt that at least for him he could get it to work. Somehow, someway, he could get it to work but he knew that a very awkward conversation with his grandfather was coming and if the man wasn’t sat in his living room by the following morning, something would be wrong.

Hallie managed to form a sort-of-smile when Theodore released her from the screams of whoevers baby he seemed to be looking after for the day, more explanation would be needed there, and Hallie hoped that he would have gone into saying that first. Instead he ignored her, completely blanked her and started rummaging around in a toiletry bag.

'H-hey.' Hallie said wearily not too sure entirely what was happening right now. It was one of those bizarre situations you only ever find in a dream. Everything makes sense, because it's a dream, although at the same time there is that essence of fiction and bewilderment. You know what is going to happen, but at the same time you have no idea what so ever. You don't think you just go along with it and watch things play out.

Hallie didn't follow. She was still stunned, frozen by the entire scene that was playing out before her. It was only when the sudden smell of scorched food and slightly over-cooked fish brought her back to earth that she entered the kitchen after Theodore. She didn't speak, instead took her usual seat at the table a blank expression full of confusion fixed across her eyes, her mouth open slightly.

Continuing her state of silence Hallie didn't speak. She simply listened, or attempted to listen would be a better description. Most of what Theodore was saying went completely over her head, perhaps if she hadn't had such a busy day Hallie would have been able to focus but among her husbands rambling the only words she managed to pick out were:

My ex and I managed to make this. His ex? Who is his ex? When was this?

She was a Muggleborn ... putrid hypocrisys He'd, what kept her a secret? Felt ashamed? Abandoned her because of her blood status? Theodore was really like his family?

They needed someone to marry pure. I obviously didn’t in the end anyway so it’s a completely stupid situation. His marriage is ridiculous or the fact he has been secretly Fathering a child for the past God knows how long? Secretly been throwing money his daughters way? Stupid situation? Would he rather have never met her and just been happy with the ex and the baby?

Cris. Oh, so Cris is the B**** that forgot to use birth control? At least Hallie was married when she did, unlike 'Cris'.

She’s out of cash and out of options. So she is using Theodore? She doesn't really want her daughter with Theodore she just doesn't know what else to do? She is that bad of a Mother she isn't even attempting to fight for her daughter? Perhaps if Theodore hadn't been an jack ass in the first place and abandoned his child then- wait. Would he abandon their child?

I was crap. Yep.

I was stupid. Got that right.

I didn’t assert myself, He scores the hat-trick.

Pre-Cooper-Rookwood training. Did he not think she was capable? Did he think she needed practice before raising her own baby? Granted she'd made this little lump of cuteness cry but was she really needing time to train? Did her husband not think her busy enough, what with leading the order whilst being a full time pregnant auror at the age of nineteen? Thanks for asking her opinion on the matter.

There were plenty of things that Hallie wanted to say, she wanted to scream, shout, throw the tuna on the floor. Instead? Instead she took a deep breath, rose from the table and left the kitchen making her way to the bathroom.

Turning the tap on she cupped the running water in her hands, splashed it over her face and-

Screamed.

“Hallie?”

Theodore got up and Esme took her chance to slide to the floor, landing lithely on her feet. She began to totter after the blonde woman but fell, landing roughly on her hands and knees. She turned, looking at Theodore who scooped her up, holding onto her tightly as he hurried along after his wife. He just reached the hall when he heard Hallie scream and he stalled. Esme froze in his grasp and looked at him, shock riddling across her little features. Theodore felt sure his expression matched hers.

Turning, Theodore moved back into the kitchen, setting Esme back down onto her feet. She grabbed out for the cupboard door, the one where he kept the cereal thankfully rather than anything else, and she used it to steady herself as her father strode towards the back door, throwing it open and reaching onto the window sill for his packet of tobacco, filters and papers. Instinctively, Theodore began to roll the cigarette and in a few moments he had it lit and between his teeth, the end burning down bit by bit as he inhaled deeply.

“Da!”

Theodore turned, his eyes widening as he looked at Esme. She extended her arms, making her way towards him and began to stumble but somehow managed to catch herself on his trouser legs. Theodore sighed, reaching down to pat her on the head, and he stared out over the garden, deciding he was going to buy some more plants tomorrow to console himself – that was, if he made it through the night.

Finishing off his cigarette, Theodore threw it into the bucket by the door and washed his mouth out with a glass of water before scooping up his daughter once more, hugging her tightly to him. He marvelled at the fact that he had managed to attach himself to her, that she understood who he was even though she had cried initially. He supposed that Cris had shown Esme photos of them together if nothing else. He was there to stay now, at least – even if he had been abhorrent to them both before.

“Hallie?” He called out again as they stepped back into the hall. He rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door and waited. He looked at Esme who continued to look at him before grabbing for his nose. Theodore only just managed to duck out of the way and she laughed high and clear at him before dropping her head onto his shoulder.

“Glad I can make someone laugh,” he murmured to her, resting his head against hers. He was her father, he thought to herself again. This was mad.

“Hallie come on,” he rose the volume of his voice now. “Please come out.”

Talk to me, he thought. At least scream at me.

She'd let it out. All the confusion and disappointment the anger and the sadness that had risen within her. It seemed gone, at least for a moment whilst the air left her lungs and screeched through her vocal chords.

The reflection in the mirror showed a blonde woman, nineteen who looked as though she was turning twenty four. There were frown lines along her forehead that hadn't been there a year ago, a strand of grey hair (of the humanity) yet her eyes were still alive. Still the same emotive eyes that were Hallie's fingerprint, the window into her soul. Her makeup had ran from the splashed on water, not that she ever wore much preferring the au natural look. However the mascara was running, black lines racing each other across her cheek bones.

It was a while before Hallie heard a light rap on the door. It played a familiar scene in her mind. Of a time when Hallie had been locked in her Mother's bathroom, a line of positive pregnancy tests along the window sill. She had just found out she would be a Mother and now, now she had discovered that the blonde witch staring back from the mirror was to be a Step Mother.

She was due to raise a child, at least that is how it felt to her. By the sounds of it this Cris woman had dumped the baby on Theodore after running out of cash. The fact the Rookwoods had even paid her to run off with the baby made her spine crawl, it caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach. Butterflies. Hadn't the little baby just mentioned them?

Theodore called her again. Okay. She was ready, she could do this, she could face the problem at hand.

Reaching for a towel Hallie patted the water from her face, wiped under her eyes and placed it in a basket for washing (you could hardly use it with black streaks now.)

'Why?' Was what Hallie said (calmly) when her eyes found Theodore's as she opened the bathroom door. 'Why now? Why have you been hiding this from me? Why did you pay for your daughter to not be associated with you? Why are you such an egocentric, bastard that you had to drop this on me when you know I'm busy with the Order and work? Do you not want a baby with me? Are you going to have your Dad pay me to go into hiding? Because if you do i warn you now, I won't be as stupid as this Cris woman was, I won't ever let you see your child again and I swear to God I will raise them in every way possible to be what you Rookwoods despise.'

She spoke with passion. Was it jealously? Or a motherly protectiveness of her own baby that she was carrying? Hallie questions, so many questions and had only asked the tip of the iceberg of what she was thinking.

There was one big problem that stopped her walking out right now. She wasn't a quitter. Unlike her dear husband she didn't walk away from her problems, pay riches and gold for them not to be there. Being pregnant wouldn't stop her walking out, nor the innocent human in the mans arms. It was the fact she was a Gryffindor. Through and through. Being a Gryffindor was her biggest strength but her biggest downfall.

When the door finally opened with a click, Theodore’s heart both soared and deflated a little. She’d been crying. It was an astute observation but of course, what else would a woman do when she was forced to find that the life she had just gotten back on an even keel had been turned topsy turvy again? Theodore would have done himself that morning if he hadn’t been so damn shocked. He had stood there like a lemon, like he had done last time, and he’d taken what he’d been dealt with only this time it wasn’t a get out of jail free card – or, rather, get out of happiness clause that put you in jail because, son, don’t you know jail is better than being happy? – it was a human being. His little human being. Esme was collateral. Only, he had no idea who was dealing the damage.

“Hey,” Theodore murmured, smiling gently. He loosened his grip on the baby and set her down on her feet. He looked down at her briefly, waiting to see what she’d choose to do. To his delight she wandered in, her hand trailing across the wall, to the living room and he just saw her clamber back up onto their chair. Their chair. His chair. No, it was theirs now, when he turned back to Hallie. He’d not been so fantastic at explaining, that he’d concede. The problem was that there was no way to explain what had happened with him and Cressida without making him look completely stupid. He had been, though, so what did he expect, arguably? He was only twenty-one, though. He’d been nineteen then. He’d let it happen because he was weak, because he’d been scared. It didn’t make it okay, though.

“So,” Theodore unfurled his hand from his palm. “I haven’t been hiding this from you,” he stated softly. “It’s just not something that comes up and it was never a problem I had to deal with.” He winced a little at his choice of language. The little girl sat in his arm chair, pawing at the pillow as she tried to shift herself enough so she could look out the window was not a problem. She was his daughter. She’d been a problem. But that was before he’d even really understood, when the alternative to premature fatherhood had been better. He hadn’t expected to later be given the very treatment that he, in his selfishness, had sought to avoid. It only served to provoke now an extra wave of guilt. How must Cressida have felt?

“I am not doing it to purposely hurt you, Hallie,” he griped, trying to keep his temper. “I didn’t wake up this morning and think ‘oh, I know, I’ll go and find my bastard and I’ll take her home and say, here, love, let’s raise her’ – for Christ sake no!” Again, he winced but it was reflexive. That was what Esme was. But now, no. Now, not at all. He had no choice but to acknowledge her. She was a Rookwood in name – Raghnall and Thaddeus had overlooked that and he was sure that Cressida’s choice to give her his name was as much as a slight and a dig to them as it was a point made to him. She was his daughter, not someone he could ignore forever.

“She’s not stupid,” he hissed, picking out arguably the worst thing out of her tirade to pick up on. “I was stupid. Rookwoods aren’t meant to …” he gritted his teeth, “fall in love with Mudbloods. It’s not done. But we carried on in our own little world for years, okay, and I was living in both worlds. I was letting them think I was interested in the women they threw at me whilst at the same time we were together. When they found out, there was hell to pay, alright? Then when they found out she was pregnant, my father flipped his lid and they made her sign this contract that was basically part restraining order part I don’t even know what. A threat, I guess.”

“My father is thorough,” Theodore sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He threatened to oust me completely. Worse than what it is at the moment. I still have a name, I still have money from my grandfather. I would’ve gotten nothing. I was nineteen. I didn’t have a clue. I was thrumming my way through law books trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life and frittering away the inheritance that had come through from a relative on my mum’s side – I didn’t know how to go it alone and I didn’t want to. So there’s cock up number one, as though it wasn’t terrible enough.”

He bit his lip before continuing, leaning round to look at Esme who was preoccupying herself with the window still. He breathed a sigh of relief that she was still alright before continuing.

“And then, to make it all the more worse they gave Cressida this charming bit of choice – keep the baby but she can never see me again or, better still, let them get rid of it for her, they’d pay her some lump sum that wasn’t worth nicks and she could still never see me again or me her. She didn’t get money, Hal, because she wanted to keep our child. She didn’t get money to go into hiding. She was muscled out of my life because my father is bloody terrifying and my gramps not far short of that either. And I didn’t fight for her. Should’ve. Could’ve. Didn’t. Because I was a fool because I thought that if I stayed legitimate, stayed part of the family I could find a convenient time to bump off Lionel and I’d get the lot. I’d get everything from Thaddeus, everything from Raghnall and everything from my mother. That was the plan.”

It still was the plan, he conceded mentally. It hit a little bit of a snag but he was getting more and more ready to do it. Lionel was now beginning to burn into his inheritance – having asked for two advances in a year. It was rightfully Theodore’s, in the eponymous would-be-murderer’s head, and he was going to get it on way or another.

“So I decided to play the white man and let them do what they wanted to do and it was no skin off of my nose bar a fairly battered old heart but sod that because what did that matter ultimately because in theory once they were all dead if I wanted I could go back, right? But that went out of the window when they got me a job, got me a girlfriend – the lovely Mopsie who you will meet at some point no doubt when she rears her ugly head again – and, sufficiently preoccupied I got over all of it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over into the living room again, finding that Esme had found her feet once more and she was making her way out to them. She caught herself first on Hallie’s legs and then she pushed off over to Theodore who reached down and scooped her up. She cooed at him, reaching out for his nose but once again he thwarted her by ducking his head out of the way, getting another lump of hair pulled out of his neck for his trouble instead. He probably deserved it.

“She had to do it all on her own. Cris, she … she shouldn’t have. She wasn’t getting kickbacks from me or from anyone and her parents wouldn’t have anything to do with her. She ran out of cash not because she was being stupid with it – she used to be frugal as an old miser, wouldn’t buy me anything – but because life happened and just like with me, the flow stopped and she can’t get her stuff in order and look after Esme because no one will help her. Together, they’d both be in trouble. With me, Esme has a good shot and Cris… she deserves to be able to lead her life the way she always wanted to – I screwed things up for her so I don’t care, to be honest.”

He swallowed, reaffirming his grip on his daughter, “you can go, if you want. But I don’t want you to. Egocentric bastard I may be but I am not giving up on us and I’m not saying I don’t want a baby with you. I do. Believe me, I do. What I have to do now, though, is make up for the fact that I fucked up, Hal. And I hurt people who I shouldn’t have because I was lazy and stupid and now I’m paying for it but at least I’m doing it the right way so no, my father isn’t going to pop up out of nowhere and send you packing. If anything, I think my grandfather will be here to send Esme packing instead because they’d rather she and Cris both starve than me have anything to do with her so I’m just going to go back into the kitchen, get drunk, figure out how to set up the front bedroom for Esme and then plan what in god’s name I am going to say to my grandfather tomorrow morning when he turns up all wands blazing. So excuse me.”

With that, Theodore strode back into the kitchen. He found the rum off of the side, grabbed a bottle for Esme, brought the milk out of the fridge and sat down at the table, plopping her down on the chair beside his and sitting everything else down on top. He poured the milk into her bottle and handed it to her, testing whether she liked it cold. She seemed happy enough and once she’d fixed her lips around it he pushed the bottle of milk away and picked up his glass of water. He tossed the water into the plant behind him and then began to pour out the rum. He couldn’t figure out how he was going to protect himself from being hexed into oblivion while sober. Somehow, though, he had to try and work it out. He just couldn’t put up with the strain of it, was all.

“Hal, I’m sorry,” he groaned, his head in his hands. “If I thought this was going to come back and bite me on the arse I would’ve said something. Heck, I probably would have had her already, y’know? I didn’t see this coming. If I had, maybe … oh, I don’t even know anymore.”

His story didn't make up for anything, he presented it well, answered all her questions and more but did she by it? No. It didn't change Hallie's views on anything it only reminded her how bad of a match they were.

For a start he used the term 'mud blood' as if he was something more superior. That's not surprising though, look at what the the Rookwoods had done. They had shoved pure blood women his way to try and what? Continue raising stuck up brats who thought themselves more worthy than the others? Raise children with ideologies so ancient, so backwards that they become the next generation of death eaters.

Secondly he had defended the bimbo that he'd impregnated. Yes he had been stupid but just because he had it didn't mean she hadn't. A true Mother would haven't took the settlement, heck if it was Hallie she would have made the whole world know whether her life depended on it.

What really turned Hallie off was how he was trying to justify what happened, conjure an excuse as to why he had gone along with it. He had been weak. Had? All Hallie could hear coming out of his mouth was weakness. He was a drunk who depended on alcohol to console himself, proving he didn't have the courage to stand up for his actions. He even was worried and intended on planning a defense against his family. He still answered to them, even after they had disowned him he still answered to them and- And now he had walked away before she could even respond.

Following him swiftly into the kitchen, welcomed by another apology unaware of what Hallie was about to unleash.

'I'm changing my name.' She began in a dominant manner that suggests he not interrupt. 'We'll still be legally married but I don't want my name associated with what your family stand for. The woman was a fool. She was weak as are you. There's no trying to hide that because if you weren't you wouldn't still be answering to your family. Oh and speaking of your family it won't be your Grandfather knocking on the door it'll be Henry Yewbeam ready to take the baby away, lock her in an attic and torture her until she is begging for death.'

With that Hallie turned on her heel and headed to the bedroom. She hadn't intended to bring the ghost up but there is only so long you can be haunted. It was Mr Rookwood who had offered a lump sum to the death eaters for presenting her own dead body, yet Theodore seemed to have forgotten that. He seemed to have forgotten the excruciating pain she had experienced followed by the excruciating treatment undergone to regrow her leg because a prosthetic wasn't good enough for her liar of a husband.

Withdrawing her wand Hallie conjured a suitcase (Transfigurations had always been her speciality), the next wave instructed the clothes to begin assembling themselves neatly in the case whilst she walked across to the draws and emptied them into her bag that she had collected from the hall on her way.

Theodore slammed his hands down on the table, shaking the cutlery on the plate and even managed to scare Esme who released the teat of the bottle with a pop, opening her mouth to protest. He got up before she could so much as think about crying and he followed his wife diligently, determined to have his right to shout at her. Though what right did he have, really? None at all. He was going to be a bad father on top of being a lying, disloyal, egotistical bastard – to both of his children. He couldn’t really do much worse considering as he’d thus far made an abysmal husband.

Storming up the stairs after her, Theodore ignored the distant cry of his daughter and the slam of the bottle on the floor. He threw the bedroom door back open and he looked between her and the suitcase, the clothes neatly tucking themselves inside and he found that he couldn’t even so much as articulate himself. Henry Yewbeam, he wanted to shout at her, was someone who he was going to deal with because they were both Death Eaters and he would wear the shit of a man into the ground and then kick off his head himself as though he was a rugby ball. But no, he didn’t. He still couldn’t bear to let that one slip – not quite.

“You callous cow,” he snapped, unable to curb his temper now. “You don’t have the right to say anything about her and I can’t believe you have the goddamn gall, Hallie, to say that about my daughter. Yeah, you’re right, I’m weak. Fine. But don’t you ever say that about Cressida and don’t you dare talk about Esme like that because I swear to god-”

What, Theodore, a voice in the back of his head that sounded unrelentingly like his mother’s challenged him, you’ll treat her like your father treated me?

Theodore sucked back, turning his body a little, opening the space for her to leave. He dropped his gaze onto the floor. He pinched at the bridge of his nose. His eyes hurt, he realised. He had no idea where he’d left his glasses. They were about somewhere. Everywhere he looked sometimes there was a pair of glasses but when he wanted them they were nowhere to be found as though they’d all gone out on a day trip to Brighton or something.

“Do whatever the hell you want, Hallie.” He muttered, dropping his hand. He turned his gaze to her, steady despite the tumult within him. “You can please yourself. But you’re not the bloody victim here, okay? That baby is. So stop acting like I threw scalding water at you and either get on with it or go like you perfectly well intend to because I can’t do this. I am not going to argue with you as though there is this other option. I messed up, it’s history and it had nothing to do with you – now we’ve come to this and it does affect you, okay? So feel very valid in your upset but don’t demonise me for something I did when I was nineteen, for god’s sake. And yes I’m still a bad bastard but boo hoo, woe is you for being married to me but the situation isn’t going to change – she’s ours from now on. So just, go sleep on it or whatever. Cool off your anger. I know, I know, I handled it wrong – such a change from the way I handle my life.”

Then with that, Theodore went back downstairs. The passive aggressiveness was unnecessary he’d later concede but as he picked up his daughter once more and got her back to drinking he moved out of the kitchen altogether and into the garden where he sat down on one of his beach deck chair summer seats and waited to hear the door slam. He rested his head on top of Esme’s and he sighed heavily.

“What am I going to do, huh baby?” He asked her.

Hallie ignored Theodore. She didn't flinch, she didn't batter an eyelid all she did was bite her tongue because if she didn't Lord knows what would have happened. Most likely she would have slapped him, said something she would have regretted and their marriage would be over. Did Hallie want that? No. She loved him, or at least she thought she had, and the witch didn't want to raise a baby in anything but a home without a both a Mother and a Father. She wanted Theodore part of her child's life, she wanted them to be a unit. She wasn't mad at the baby, she would happily accept Theodore's child. The baby wasn't the issue. Theodore was.

Once her suitcase was packed and her bag full with all of her belongings Hallie sat on the bed, debating about whether taking the photo of her and Theodore along with her. No. She left it, it wasn't permanent this leave of absence she simply needed time to figure things out, time away from Theodore and everything that he represented. Curse herself for inviting him into the Order. No doubt they would meet at the next meeting and that, that would certainly be awkward. No. Hallie would have to rectify this before the next meeting.

'Theodore.' Hallie had arrived at the back door, her suitcase and bag waiting patiently like a trained dog by the front door. 'I'm sorry if I have said anything to offend you but you just don't get it.' She spoke i a forcefully calm manner.

'I have nothing against your daughter, I want you to know I will happily accept her with open arms. She isn't the problem.' She stated in a continued calm manner. 'I'm going to see if I can stay at Maura's for a bit, if not I'll be at Grimmauld Place. I'll write to you, but I think we just need a little seperation whilst I work things out.'

It was good of her to say where she would be, although the choice of Grimmauld Place seemed an odd one. Hopefully nobody would object if it came to that, even though she was the leader Hallie felt headquarters was as much every Order members house as it was hers. The auror could easily have gone to her Mother's house but something inside of her was steering her from that choice. The ground Amelia walked on was the ground Hallie worshiped. She was her Mother who had sacrificed a lot and her Mother shouldn't be worried about something Hallie hoped to solve by the end of the week.

Hallie turned on her heel and ventured into the kitchen, stopping in her tracks and returning once again to the back kitchen door. Esme was giggling to herself at something or another as she began to tug affectionately at the collar of Theodore's t-shirt. It was strange seeing a baby fondle over Theodore, love someone she barely knew.

'If your Grandfather visits and attempts to take your daughter then, then I'll look after her.' And with that Hallie finally completed her journey to the front door where her suitcase and bag was sitting. Hallie didn't know why she had said what she'd just said. A part of her felt sorry for the child, being dragged into something that wasn't her fault. She was innocent and didn't deserve to get caught in the middle of anything and she certainly didn't deserve to be taken away from her Father. Maybe it was the good nature and the eternal flame of love Hallie inside of her that made her say what she just said. Or the fact she was a Mother and already felt the Mother of Theodore's child, whether she was biologically hers or not.

CRACK.

Hallie was gone.

(OOC: Sorry it's short but I figured that is how Hallie would have had it to try and avoid another explosive argument about when she wanted to abort.)