I know that you can't hear me, but baby I need you to save me tonight

It had been fifteen years since that one Christmas.

The one that broke him but also built up the life he now found himself living. Some days it felt like he had lost everything, and in one sense of the word he supposed he had. But then, he had been given everything he had originally wanted out of life. The recognition, the position as Headmaster, everything he thought he wanted. And so, part of the time, he felt fairly right with the world.

But most of the time, he would recognize the fact that Liam and Kelly took his name, but it wasn't actually Melissa's last name. He would have to absorb the fact that when he went home during the summer months, it would be to an empty flat. Well, near empty. Somehow Lucius had decided to outlive everyone and was still sneaking around to Merlin knows where on any given day. Well, it would be a lie to say he didn't know where the cat went off to. It was the same place the twins went off to, and the same place Narcissa came from.

Truly, those cats were going to be alive long after he left.

One main problem: He was supposed to go there today, himself. Not there, exactly, but damn close. So close it made him have a slight panic attack. Until he realized that he wouldn't have to go exactly there, because he hadn't been to that flat in the entirety of his fifteen years without them. Not once. Avery played the interceptor, which surprised him more than almost anything else that had come his way. Whether or not she got along with the others was not within his knowledge, because he had never asked, but he had to assume as much. That, of course, had made him even more wary of those around him. The only one who seemed to have any serious acceptance of his situation was Robin, but then, he'd never asked the other man for his opinion, either.

The night before, he had sat up at his desk and stared blindly out the window and tried to figure how exactly to start the letter. How to address them. Usually he didn't address anyone, not even a "Hello." This one was significantly more important to him than a 'So I'll have them this week, yeah?' or 'I'll be there.' Both of those were too simple, when this meant he was asking something of someone. He had to put some semblance of a greeting on it. Finally, he had managed to get something down and send it.

Millie,

I'll be in Dublin tomorrow afternoon for the conference. If you hadn't heard about it yet, I apologize. I was told that you would be informed. Regardless, I've been asked to speak, so if you or the kids want to come out and see, that would be great. The speech isn't a big deal, really, but I thought it might be interesting for the twins. I mean, you'll be thanked and all considering everyone involved with the school will be named.

The letter then included the address of the get-together and his signature, for once not followed by the titles and things he had earned over the years. She didn't need to be reminded, and he wasn't interested in trying to make a point. That wouldn't help anyone, and inevitably make him feel guilty without his meaning to upset anything or anyone. So the owl took off, and he had forced himself to try and sleep.

--

The afternoon came too quickly, and he hadn't heard back. It was a safe assumption, he knew, to think that they probably wouldn't show. So his eyes didn't skim the audience as he made his way into the auditorium of sorts that they had chosen for the event. All of his past students and the teachers that had helped with everything had shown up. Jack and Max were milling about, talking with Nessa and Baldric, who had brought Bentley and their kids. He knew that Liam and Kelly were friends with Tim and Eva, along with the Ivanov children and Merlin knew who else. Rose was walking among the groups, and Keiran himself felt tense as she approached them. Speaking of the Ivanovs - Avery was holding onto Robin's arm and talking to their daughters. Zachary was on Avery's left, clinging to her hand. For a nine-year-old, the boy was fairly quiet, tending to keep more to his books than conversation. He couldn't do that here, though, so he seemed content to just wait for things to start.

"Keiran!"

Stopping short, he turned over his shoulder, alerted to Adrienne's presence behind him. A smile grew on his face, greeting her with a nod.

"Are you ready?" She asked, gesturing up to the podium and row of chairs. "I mean, I'm sure you've got it handled."

"I've got an idea," he shrugged, knowing full well that he didn't have a clue what he would say once he got up there. It would all depend on who showed up.

Half an hour later, people had settled into their seats, and the talking died down as the Minister for Magic stood from his chair to address those who had decided to attend. Not particularly interested in hearing the welcoming words, Keiran sat and stared out into the audience, one ankle resting atop his opposite knee in a show of feeling casual when he most certainly did not. He could hear the Minister talk any time he wanted to, if he thought about it. Having a cousin for Minister certainly made it easier to get in touch with people in the Ministry.

Covering a smirk when the Minister finished, Keiran dropped his foot to the floor and stood, offering Theodore a hand, giving him a hug that - fifteen years ago - he wouldn't have considered. He turned his head to watch Theo go to sit down, waiting until he had done so to stuff his hands in his pockets and step up to the podium.

Saturdays during the summer always started the same way. The door would open a quarter of an hour after being closed quietly behind the matriarch and it would let in Elliot Finnigan who, in fifteen years, hadn’t changed much. His hair was short at the back and sides, left to grow long on top. Tortoise shell glasses were perched on his nose and the envied piercings that niece and nephew had loved to pull on when they were babes in arms remained looped through the cartilage and skin of his ears. He always seemed to dress the same – some form of button down shirt over a band t-shirt of some description and either jeans or trousers. If you squinted, you’d perhaps recognise the eighteen year old. Barring the lines where it counted and the slight beginnings of grey in his hair he was still Elliot Finnigan, the only really steadfast thing that would pop in to the lives of the two people he found asleep every day of their little lives.

Burrowed deep into the cushions and duvet of her bed he found Kelly Mae Hayes and, further down the corridor, her brother Liam Garrett could be found sprawled across the top of his bed, a book resting on his chest, his own glasses askew. Elliot shook his head and moved himself into the kitchen, flicking on the radio just as his sister called out her greetings to the vibrant city of Dublin in which they’d all settled in the aftermath of, well, that. No one dared to say the word ‘divorce’ and in fact, as far as many were concerned she was still married to Keiran but they had to be reminded “no sir/madam, we divorced nearly fifteen years ago now.” It was a dizzying prospect and just seeing their children, who he remembered so vividly as babies, spread out all gangly and very unpleasantly teenager-ish – far too like himself and his sister for good comfort – reminded him, too. It had been fifteen years. And here they all were. Intact. Well, more or less.

Half way through her show after the more ridiculous songs had been played, Tina Turner joined the fray just as the door of Liam’s room was opened. A weary young man trudged out looking for all the world like his father and Elliot took a moment to appreciate sometimes how terrifying it was and how his sister must have felt. But then, he wasn’t Keiran. No, he was Liam. Prankster extraordinaire. He supposed she’d reconcile it with that. Console herself with that. Just as Elliot imagined Keiran would have to deal with the pair of them also. They seemed to both see what they’d lost in those children and that was each other, naturally. But in fifteen years Elliot doubted as if they’d so much as uttered each other’s names let alone made efforts to see each other outside of the occasional trade off of their children and, once or twice, the odd issue at Hogwarts which needed to be attended to because the Professor had turned his toys out of the pram and demanded the Headmaster make no more excuses for his errant children. Those were the best occasions, in Elliot’s point of view.

“Morning Ell,” Liam yawned, throwing himself down onto the sofa beside Lucius. “You ‘right?”

“Just swell, kid,” Elliot replied, lifting the kettle off of the hook. He sloshed the hot water into the cup he had on the side and quickly made up a cup of tea for the boy, dangling it down in front of his face once it was done. Liam took it gratefully, bringing the hot drink to his lips, and he smacked his lips together in satisfaction, thanking his uncle before leaning forward and exchanging the cup for the controls off of the coffee table. The football from the night before came onto the television and Elliot turned down the radio, humming absently to the music as he set about getting breakfast ready for them. It made a change, too, that he was there because Millie’s health kicks that came in spurts often meant that they were out of fatty foods so the bacon was out of the question. This week she seemed to be off, though, and Elliot grabbed the rashers out of the fridge along with the sleeve of eggs off of the top shelf.

“Kelly up yet?” Elliot asked. Liam shrugged his shoulders, his eyes intent on following the path of one of the players.

“I’m here,” Kelly announced herself, bobbing contentedly into the living area as Elliot produced another cup of tea. She smiled and just as her brother had done, bringing it to her lips to taste before affirming her approval. “Are you looking forward to today?” She asked after a moment, setting her cup down on the island.

“I’m looking forward to the conference,” Elliot conceded with a smile as he cracked an egg into a pan of simmering water. “But I’m not looking forward to your parody of that bloody Lindsay Lohan film.”

Kelly winced. It was a hair-brained idea and they all knew it. Getting their mother to go anywhere with their father’s name attached to it was like trying to get an elephant to play nice with a mouse. She seized up, got overly clammy and lost the ability to function as a normal human being for a moment before declaring that it wasn’t going to happen and that Elliot was going to go instead. This time, the twins had a decent idea. Tricking her wasn’t so hard after she came home, weary and desperate for a cup of coffee. It had gotten them their own way many a time over the years but this time they were determined to do it for good reasons and Elliot was there to bolster – as well as to perform their Saturday tradition – just in case they had a no runner in the former of their mother.

“She’ll be fine,” Liam scoffed from the sofa, flopping back against the pillows. “Only if you don’t spoil it, Kelly.”

“Oh bugger off, idiot,” she protested, poking her tongue out at the back of his head. “This is important.”

“What did the letter say again?” Elliot inquired, trying to steal them away from an argument.

“Dad wants mum to go to the speech thingy,” Kelly buzzed excitedly. “He wrote to her and everything. We already got the official bits. But he wrote to her himself, Ell.”

“Are you sure you’re not just reading into this a bit too far?” Elliot asked, moving the eggs around a bit in the pan.

“No way,” Liam turned around on the sofa. “You’re not here when she’s reading those bloody textbooks. She was never any good at Transfiguration, neither. So why bother, eh? Mum misses dad, too.”

“Can you even remember them being together?” Elliot protested weakly as the bacon began to sizzle.

“We don’t need to,” Kelly announced resolutely. “Really, Uncle Elliot. This is going to work. We should pack the books, actually, while we think about it.”

“If it doesn’t work, what do we do?” Elliot asked as Kelly rushed around to find a canvas bag to put the books in.

“Trick them into a series of unfortunate dates,” Liam said, rounding off with a groan as the opposing team scored.

A little after ten o’clock, the door to the flat opened to reveal a warm, flushed Melissa Finnigan. The years had been as kind to her as they had been to her brother but unlike him whose eyes were filled with genuine contentedness hers had always been filled with a false echo of that to mask the loneliness that had resulted from what had been a failure of a marriage. Nothing had really changed for her. As it turned out, the children that had been impossible for her to manage in the early days actually made her rather than broke her. Truly, they were the only thing that kept her going, kept her moving, and after grabbing a degree for herself she emerged from the shadow of what she imagined her life would be and made some success for herself as a presenter on both radio and occasionally on television.

She never married again. Speaking of a series of unfortunate dates, that’s what she embarked upon in the early years when it was difficult to be alone as a young mother of two children. She didn’t go back to the affair that had caused the divorce. Instead she endeavoured to try something new to see what would stick. Nothing ever did. She flicked back and forth from men to women and back again in a desperate effort to find someone but each time it crashed and burned most often because of her baggage. No one wanted an uncooperative moody witch for a girlfriend – especially when she had two kids, too. So, Millie got over it and found some solace in a single life. She found purpose elsewhere, at monthly book clubs and in good, strong friendships with the people of Dublin.

And Dublin? That had been her home for the last fourteen years. It had taken her a long time to get the money up together for the flat and was still paying Peter off bit by bit for it even though he had insisted even at the time that he helped her out because they were family, not to be paid back. It was a pretty little apartment in a beautiful old building that had stood watch over dozens of events. She made it a home and although it was missing a vital ingredient she learned not to miss it. Miss him. It still happened though, crippling though the pain was. She had her good days. Had her bad. The bad more often than not, even after all these years. But Dublin was a consolation.

Eight months was spent with her grandparents in the early days, trussed up in Cork trying to forget. They’d tried to do their best by her and were so helpful it was unbelievable. Once she went to Dublin though, things changed. She finally gained the independence she’d always quietly felt she’d lost by being both dependent on others and by being bogged down by children. Having lost that childishness she learnt properly to value her children and enjoy the adventures that would come by having them with her. She was different with them. Better with them. And she was making her own way. Her own money. Her own cock ups, too, and she had nothing to fall back on but the skin of her own arse. She was the one people were dependent on now and, oddly, she rather liked it.

In the intervening years after, Elliot joined her too and he married sometime in the autumn of 2029 though no one can precisely remember the date due to the fact that they spent the whole weekend absolutely off of their faces. Thereafter he had his own children, the delightful Felicity and Mitchell and they all got on with their lives. He went into a law office and fought cases for Muggles and Wizards alike after gaining his degree. After reading English, Millie did a number of odd jobs before falling into her radio journalism. They were happy, in a way. All of them. Or perhaps they were just busy and content in knowing that this was the right way to live because it saved from acknowledging that nothing was wrong.

Neither of the Finnigan siblings could really look at Bridget Hayes after the divorce. Somehow, Elliot had felt responsible for what his sister had chosen to do and, wracked with guilt, she couldn’t find the words to explain what she had done. They missed her. Or, rather, Millie did. Over the years, Elliot had rebuilt the relationship that he hadn’t really lost but he felt obligated to rehash. He was often the go between when Avery wasn’t. If she wasn’t dropping the children off somewhere, he was delivering messages and vice versa. His wife, Grace, also joined the fray in that respect but did endeavour to keep out of it as much as possible. She’d come in when things had been tumultuous. Really, there had never been a time when anyone could really sit back and enjoy the calm. Instead they trod on eggshells, desperate not to reignite the storm.

“Hey mum!” Liam exclaimed, jumping off of the couch and bounding over to her, wrapping her up at a tight hug. Nearly fifteen or not, he was still taller than her having shot up all of a sudden. He took the narrow woman into his arms and breathed in the smell of her perfume. He broke away, holding her at arm’s length, and he grinned brightly, waiting for Millie too look at him and indeed her eyes did flick across what he was wearing, her eyebrows idly rising up the length of her forehead.

“What-”

“We’re going out!” Kelly declared, popping up by her brother’s side as she fixed her earrings into her ear. “Go and get showered. Dress really nice, mum, okay?”

“Where are we going?” Millie’s brows furrowed as she looked between her children, lines wrinkling her forehead and splintering around her eyes.

“Just…” Liam looked at Elliot who had joined them, searching for some words.

“Go and get dressed, Mills.” Elliot encouraged, fiddling with his tie. “Just humour your kids.”

Humour them she did. Millie stripped down out of her clothes once in her room, dropped them into the hamper, and made her way into the adjoining bathroom, slipping into the shower before turning on the jets. She scrubbed the warmth of the morning from her skin and from her hair, applying the fragrance of her strawberry shampoo to both before stepping out and drying herself off. With her wand she dried her hair and then she set about getting herself dressed, wondering if she even had anything that was considered ‘really nice’ – but she did, and she donned it too just as she was behest by her children.

“Alright, then,” Millie emerged from the bedroom, her hair half up and half down, the latter set into curls. Pearl grips kept it up and into her ears she set matching earrings that dropped down like little tears from her lobes. The children got up from the sofa where they’d been watching the end of the game and they grinned excitedly as Millie bent down to fix her shoes. She straightened once more and held out her hands after fixing her watch around her wrist, looking at them expectantly for their verdicts. There wasn’t really a verdict worth giving. She did look truly beautiful. For them the tone was right. The scene was set. The magic could begin.

“Wonderful, mum,” Liam told her gently.


The conference hall was the guild hall in the middle of the city. It did take some coaxing but once they ducked into Starbucks and came out brandishing their coffees the threesome were well on their way to getting their passenger down to the venue. It had only been a few months since they’d been there anyway having all gone to a concert with Millie. After dinner in town they’d gone to see the Weird Sisters and after that went out for ice cream and came home only to fall into their beds, dead on their feet. Millie wasn’t so naively contented with her coffee that she didn’t realise where she was being guided but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what was so important about the place at that date and time, her mind still filled with what had been discussed on her program that morning.

They arrived just in time and people were still milling around. Where once the elder Finnigans would’ve stopped, rolled a couple of cigarettes and waited for a while before going inside they paused to finish their coffees and binned the cups before entering through the main double doors thrown open so people could enter at their leisure. In the principle foyer, however, Millie stalled, allowing for Kelly to walk into the back of her. The girl spluttered, complaining loudly to her mother but once she found that Millie was unrelenting in her stalling, Kelly looked round to see a photograph moving on an easel before the inner doors. They knew what it was, of course. They’d seen it a thousand times but it was the person in the front that the picture this time focused on which had stuttered Millie into an inability to do anything.

“This is the…” she protested weakly, only to find Elliot’s hands lift under her arms, guiding her through into the auditorium where chairs were set out and people were still milling idly.

“Sit down,” he instructed her, plopping her down into one of the seats at the back. “And relax, for Christ sake.”

“Why have you brought me here?” She hissed at him venomously.

“Dad wanted us here, mum.” Kelly replied gently, sitting down beside her mother. Liam flopped down the other side and Millie was effectively boxed in.

Elliot kissed all three of them on the head and promised to return before skating off in search of his wife who he found by the nibbles where everyone else’s priorities seemed to be. After hugging and kissing her and the children he stood to envelope all of their friends in hugs. Then, he took up residence between Baldric and Bentley who both seemed to be wearing mutually concerned expressions.

“Here we go,” he muttered, the lot of them watching as Theodore disentangled himself from an awkward conversation with an OAP to deal with the task at handing: introducing the man of the hour. He jumped up the steps and they all in turn hurried to sit down. He fixed his tie idly and moved to stand in front of the microphone, smiling cheekily at the crowd before him. It was part of what made him a good politician. He could get away with murder with a smile like that.

“Oh lord,” Millie mumbled, sinking pitifully into her chair. Liam pinched her side roughly and she shot up once more, sitting straight, turning to glare at him. Kelly reached out, turning her chin forcefully and Millie found herself looking, waiting, staring over a sea of heads as Theodore began to charm them all with what was essentially, rubbish.

“Right, good morning ladies and gents, boys and girls,” he greeted them warmly. “Today, of all days, when we could all be on a beach in the Bahamas we are here in a city very dear to my heart. Dublin.”

He paused and sure enough, a ripple of affirmation trickled through the crowds. Millie craned her neck, spotting more than a few Rookwood heads in the crowd.

“In lieu of having sex on the beach – the cocktail I mean,” Theodore smirked, “We’re all here to celebrate this bloke who is a right tosser really but for some ungodly reason we all love him to pieces don’t we?”

Chuckles turned out from the crowd again and Millie brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes scanning across the stage in search for him.

“So, without boring you any further and so we can all get out and go down the pub – I’m dying for a Guinness and it’s five o’clock somewhere, am I right?” He laughed himself, then, “I need to introduce to you the Headmaster of Hogwarts. For many of us here we have the dubious fortune of being related to him and for the majority of us, his good traits have yet to rub off. Nevertheless, we must welcome this man who has a bloody Order of Merlin, for Christ sake. Saved dozens of our poor, stricken children and turned them into these successful, beautiful human beings we have down here,” he pointed to the right of the crowd. “Like, this bloke… he’s a bit of a tit, really. But he’s got a good heart and he showed the Ministry who’s boss and still shows me who’s boss to this day when really I should chuck him in Azkaban at the nearest showin’ of that famous ol’ daring wit of his. Now, really, I promise this time, I’ll shut up because he can do all the talking. He’s better at it anyway. Mr Keiran I-have-too-many-middle-names-for-sense Hayes!”

With that, a raucous applause lifted them up and Millie found herself instinctively bringing her hands together quickly, her neck still craning to look. The twins looked around their mother, sharing a smile before they themselves turned to see the two cousins embrace. Theo clapped him on the back and smiled brightly before hopping off down into the ground to take his seat, tossing his arm over the back of his daughter’s chair once he was seated.

Millie bit her lip. It had been years. But like a shot she felt all of those old feelings come back to her as she realised that for the first time in a long time, indeed years, her husband Keiran was in the same room as her. Breathing the same air. And yet, it was oh so very different. As she sat back in her chair she reached out to grasp up her children’s hands in hers. Kelly smiled, covering her mother’s hand with her other one and Liam extracted his hand, wrapping his arm around Millie’s shoulders instead, reaching to kiss her cheek. They were there. For, they realised just how important this was. Not just for their dad. Not just for their mum. But for their parents. As a collective unit. As a couple. This was it.

A chuckle that was more amused than embarrassed left Keiran, just barely picked up by the mic as he stood before it. He had the decency to look slightly bemused at the introduction, but he couldn’t resist throwing a joke back in Theodore’s direction. “Hey, at least my names aren’t obscenely snooty, yeah? Mum couldn’t find it in her to break the Rookwood habit of bizarre names.”

The second bit was directed at Bridget, who, Merlin help her, was surrounded by her old family. Upon Keiran’s befriending Theodore so long ago, the bits and pieces of the Rookwoods and the Hayes had somehow combined into one confusing family. People still called her Charlisse on accident, but as she was starting to get on in years they had seemingly decided to respect her chosen name and her family. After all, if Keiran had learned to trust them (to an extent, mind), the rest could surely learn to get on.

“Hopefully you’ll all forgive me for being a little less than prepared,” Keiran began after a moment, focusing on the general audience rather than individuals. “I think it would be better to speak candidly. …Fifteen years ago, I resigned from my original post at Hogwarts, and at the time… I guess I regretted it to some extent. But it was right, what I chose to do, and though I didn’t always know it back then, well… hind-sight is always twenty-twenty, right?” A small smile flashed over his face for a moment before he scanned the crowd.

It was by no means his first speech – Headmasters had always had to get used to them, he found – but it was the first one that he felt was influential and really mattered. And yet he couldn’t find the people he had most wanted there. Realizing he’d been quiet too long, he sucked in a breath and continued.

“During those first few months with the kids, it was… it was like nothing had changed, though so much had. I was where I thought I was supposed to be. Teaching, doing what I could to keep their attention – regardless of other werewolves coming after us or the Ministry breathing down our necks. I have to admit something, though.” Pausing, he toyed with the admission in his mind, before finally just letting it out. His hands escaped from their individual pockets, moving to rest on either side of the podium as he leaned forward.

“It wasn’t really my idea.”

A few people looked at him funny – those who had been there, who knew the truth. He even saw Avery lean over to Robin, probably to ask why he was lying. But technically he wasn’t. “See,” he moved around the podium and spoke up so he wasn’t restricted to using the mic, “the law was printed, and I resigned that same day. I made some grand claim that maybe – maybe – I could help those kids somehow. That I could make some secret school and keep them safe and teach them whatever I felt would help them. Originally I was serious, and then slowly began to take in exactly what I had just said. It felt like too much, like a target on my back that I couldn’t handle. But then, I turned and looked at the person sitting on my couch, who I had been exclaiming all of these ideas to.”

Keiran paused – not for dramatic effect, but because he wasn’t sure how to get through the next part. His eyes darted over the parts of the seats that were further back, and his shoulders fell as the air left him in sheer surprise. Elliot was here. His gaze jumped around the auditorium. Did that mean-?

It did, apparently. Because there were his kids, sitting on either side of her, and she looked for all the world like the woman he had known so long ago. Yes, he had seen her intermittently, but never when she was dressed to the nines, and never when she was just watching him like every word he said was important.

“My wife- well,” His stomach clenched, and he caught several people shifting awkwardly in their chairs as he clarified, “my wife at the time, she was sure I could do it.” Unable to pull his gaze from hers, he squared his shoulders and put on a brave face – because she might have been there, but that didn’t mean things were going to change. “She knew long before I did that the things I had given up by resigning were not truly lost. So, though she doesn’t hear it often, she really should be given a good lot of the credit.”

Tearing his eyes away from the three of them, he gestured towards Jack and Rivah, thanking them for risking everything to help, just as he did for Elijah, Khaat, his mother, and even Ben, for the man had turned around at the last minute and kept them from getting into even more trouble. His thanks turned to Max, the Ivanovs, the Poliakoffs, everyone who had been there. The end of the speech was rounded out with a general explanation of how, in the end, the laws were repealed (he didn’t spend much time on the Marriage Law. He skipped it entirely, actually), and that the kids had ended up welcome back at Hogwarts.

“I had intended to go back to writing. Just writing. Textbooks, stories about the kids and all that. And I did those things, in the end. But with the Ministry in shambles, someone needed to take care of things at Hogwarts. And that was when the rest of my life really started.” His hands returned to his pockets, and Keiran did everything he could to keep from looking back at Liam and Kelly, but he failed miserably considering every few words his eyes met hers and he nearly stumbled over his ending each time. “I cannot begin to claim credit for this, though people have inevitably put it on me. It may have been my original thought, but it wouldn’t have happened without the people I mentioned. Without Theodore and- and Millie, and everyone else that came together to make it work.”

Keiran moved back around to stand behind the podium, clearing his throat quietly. “The book that I’m presenting today is, as promised, a bit of a retelling of how things went, without the gloss that people want to give stories like this one. It’s about the truth, and about the good times and the bad ones.”

Picking up the copy of the book that was left on the podium for him to present, Keiran let the cover fall open, the dedication page staring him in the face and capturing his attention for a little bit too long. This book is dedicated, as ever, to my family. And, just as the first was dedicated to Her, my last surely will be as well.

Keiran had stopped sending copies to her, but a part of him desperately hoped she read them – at least the dedication pages if nothing else. Because they couldn’t ever fail to include her. It was stupid, he supposed – and obvious, Oliver had reminded him time and again – but for the rest of the world it could have been a mere thank you to her for everything they had gone through. Anyone who knew him, though, understood that she was why he hadn’t ever agreed to date anyone. Yes, he had been aware of interested parties, but they were never taken seriously. Or taken up at all, for that matter. Anyone who knew him was aware of the fact that he blamed himself, and could never hold it against her. So anyone who knew him knew that the dedications weren’t a thank you. They were an apology.

Whether or not she saw or cared was another matter entirely. When she had never spoken a word about the books to him or even to their family, as far as he knew, Keiran had given up on sending them to her. The last he had sent was two books before this new one, and both of those other books that had included her in the Author’s Dedication page.

“Now, really,” He continued finally, slapping the cover of the book shut. “I’ve kept everyone too long when I’m sure we’d all much rather eat or chat or whatever it is we get up to. I know Theodore is waiting to go to the open bar, so I’ll not keep you any longer. Just know how grateful I am for each person here – every single one – and know that nothing I’ve earned has come from just me doing things on my own. None of this would be even close to possible without everyone here.”

Offering a ‘thank you’ sign off, Keiran stepped away, doing his best not to acknowledge the applause that followed. He had never been one to really accept the return for his speeches, quite unsure why anyone felt he had earned it. Hadn’t he just said that he lacked the real credit for his accomplishments? He failed to understand, of course, that sometimes people appreciated honesty and things that were real over claims to fame and taking credit for things one hadn’t managed.

Passing Theo a nod as he moved off stage, Keiran ducked behind the side curtain quickly, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. She was here. She’d gotten his letter, and she’d agreed to come. Well. He hoped that was why. He wouldn’t put it past his kids to turn things around on him, really. Nodding firmly to himself, Keiran held the book to his chest with one hand as he made his way out of the side doors and into the lobby, accepting greetings from those he passed on the way to his table. As ever, the line was longer than he expected – for no amount of book signings prepared him for any sized group over, like, ten. He didn’t see Elliot or the twins or her, but Keiran sank into his chair, greeting the first in line with the brightest smile he could muster.

“Who should I address it to?”

“Mum,” Kelly whispered. “You’re cutting off my circulation.”

In her mother’s intense grasp, Kelly’s fingers dilated back to their normal size and she felt a rush of heat as the blood spread back to the tips of her fingers. She wiggled them a little in Millie’s palm and squeezed in return, a soft one-two pump that implored with the blonde woman from whom they seemed to take their carriage and airs to truly relax. They were unlike her in those moments though as the crowd seemed to melt away from them all and it was just them: mum, dad, Liam, Kelly. It was them. It was as though they were the only people in the world. As the jokes were made and the chuckles were roused from the seated people it was still only them. Like it always should’ve been. Like it would be, of that she was certain.

As the words travelled over the hall, Millie listened and took to every syllable that passed her ears. She hid it away, burying it deep within memory. She tried, also, to try and paint his smile on the back of her lids. She tried to examine the way he was stood, though she found his stance was no different than it had always been. It was that shyly confident movement of a man who truly loved and believed in the words that he let dance into the hall. Yet he was different, still. He moved with a grace that she supposed had come from being a headmaster. It suited him, she realised with astounding clarity. She’d never seen him look more at home, in that sort of skin. But then, of course, she had. It was merely an amplified version of the very reason she’d loved to watch him teach. He was just so sure, so easy and so entrancing. She still believed that if, in one of those moments, he told her he’d hung the moon in the sky she’d believe him wholeheartedly.

Millie’s hand tightened over her daughter’s again and Kelly turned away from her father to look at her mother, a quizzical expression alighting over her smooth features as she realised by the way her mother’s face had turned, exactly who he meant before he’d said it. A gasping breath stole from Millie’s chest and her shoulders shook involuntarily, prompting Liam to lay a warm hand over her back. Her eyes slid shut, a flickering shutter on a whole new painful rip and tug at her heart. He amended his words. At the time. Her thumb came across the bridge of her palm and rubbed at the gold band that she wore still, that she never failed to wear whether it was on her finger where she was turning it now or on a chain around her neck where also she kept her mother’s engagement ring and her father’s wedding band. She kept it near. She’d never abandoned him, not entirely. Never in spirit.

A little, quiet whimper rippled past Millie’s lips. Someone in front of them shifted, swivelling to glare at her but Liam met the man’s eye stride for stride and he turned back, shame clouding his cheeks scarlet when he realised just who they were. Perhaps the guilt was coming back. In fact, no, the guilt was back with full force, slamming into her gut and making her feel endlessly nauseas. The idea that she’d not been there, to watch and to see and to have some hand in it, to be a part of him, still, killed her in that moment. It dawned on her what she’d done – or what she hadn’t done – in all of those years. She’d coped, there was no doubt about that. Her only triumph was the raising of their children, one could argue, although a little award a couple of Christmases ago for outstanding journalism could arguably count as something. It wasn’t anything though, when she knew where she should have been when the Ministry was on its knees, when Hogwarts was crumbling. She should have been with him. She had been nowhere, she’d done nothing. Yet he credited her. He said her name. Not Melissa. Millie. He said her name.

Then, it was all over. Liam’s calm hand turned to gentle shaking and Millie cracked open her eyes, glancing around to see people beginning to rise from their seats. She looked to see Theodore and the others slope off to the bar as Keiran had indicated. He hadn’t changed. Bentley and Baldric. Robin and Avery. The students. They were all there. She’d never felt so far removed from all of them, in truth. It was as though there was this strange bubble around them and her that prevented the two groups from mixing. Only the entrance of her brother once more could penetrate that divide but he didn’t come, finding himself stuck between their cousin Louise and his wife who were crowing for white wine spritzers. Distantly, noise began to come into view again though the deep reverberations of Keiran’s voice still lingered like a lover’s whisper in her ears. Kelly’s voice came over her.

“Do you want a drink, mum?” She asked as she got to her feet, smoothing out her dress. “I can go and ask Uncle Robin to get you something. He’s only over there. Coffee, maybe?”

“Black Russian?” Liam offered glibly as Millie slowly rose to her feet herself, her hand straying absently over the skirt of her dress as she turned her bag over in her other hand.

“Later, sweetheart,” Millie responded with a smile, albeit a weak one. Nevertheless she opened her bag, found her wallet and took out a ten Euro note. She handed it to her daughter who smiled brightly and paused for a second, waiting for an order.

“Get me some sparkling water, would you love, and anything you two want is fine. Oh here, have twenty.” She gave over another, in her disorientation suddenly feeling less thrifty. She smiled at her daughter, patting Kelly on the arm before turning, finding herself nose to nose with Liam.

“Come on,” he directed, catching her hand in his, beginning to lead her. It was then that Millie noticed the canvas bag and she leaned around him to peek inside, astounded to find her books. “I figure it’s about time dad signed them, eh? Or, we could at least get you some new copies.”

“You’re going to be grounded forever for this.” Millie muttered but they both knew she didn’t mean it. She had long since forfeited parental control. She had always treated them like little adults, her little confidantes. Everything else had fallen into place although she hadn’t quite counted for them being so assertive, so calm and so very grown up. Teenage years were seemingly leaving them alone. They had good heads on their shoulders. She was positive that was all Keiran. There was no one else for it.

Across the room, Millie found Kelly to be welcomed with open arms, Theodore catching hold of her before anyone else, tossing an arm around her waist as well as Esme’s, declaring that now he had ‘his girls’ the party truly could begin. Kelly to her credit laughed whilst Esme shook her head forcefully, rolling her eyes at the man. You couldn’t ever fault him for his happiness though and it struck Millie just how many family members there were around. Even friends who had long since become family were there. Everyone was a familiar face, it felt like, and that was as frightening as anything else. There was nowhere to hide, then, and given how visible the twins appeared to be, little gems in Keiran’s gleaming diadem of success, it inevitably meant that Millie was a shoe in for some highly awkward and unpleasant conversations yet. Most likely it would be Baldric’s Aunt Debbie.

Queuing was a very British pursuit but Millie had never had the stomach for it – especially not when her husband was involved. She’d stood in many a line for the sake of his books. She never thought that she’d come to stand where she was knowing he wasn’t even a meter away from her, knowing that she could grab him if she wanted to, grab him and kiss him like her runaway mind was telling her she should. That, if she wanted to, she could tell him everything she should have told him that day so many years ago. That she wasn’t the wrong person. That it was safe to trust her. That he was set on them because she loved him and because they’d always love each other because whether they liked it or not the Ministry was right: there was no one better for either of them than each other.

“We’re next,” Liam buzzed excitedly by her ear, drawing Millie out of her reverie. She looked down at herself quickly, smoothing out her skirt again before looking up and glancing around for a mirror – anything to check that she looked presentable. Liam chuckled a little and she whipped her head round to look at him, the sound rumbling through her in the same way his father’s own quiet chortle did. He smirked openly and he reached over to squeeze her hand again, a pointed look being passed between their eyes that said ‘you’re fine,’ and she believed him, too.

“Afternoon, dad,” Liam exclaimed, lifting the canvas bag onto the table top.

Millie hung back, suddenly feeling star struck. Because, of course, there he was. The pen was loose in his fingers, well versed in spreading his squiggle across pages. He looked at home there in the chair but almost as though he’d rather be talking with Theo or with someone – anyone – else. Yet he offered up a smile well enough, a bog standard one that came with the packaging of the author eager to sign books and of course naturally his son inspired in him a little more candidness. Millie watched as Liam lifted out her books and she winced a little as the spine of the eldest one flapped a little but nevertheless stayed semi-intact.

It was no secret in their home that Millie spent a long, long while sitting, reading the books by lamplight well into the night. It was no secret that often she didn’t sleep, that she left her mug of cocoa on the side and went to work barely literate and conscious, the words that sounded so very much like her husband speaking rumbling around in her mind. It was such a regular thing that it was often odd for them to see her reading something else. She sit and she’d covet every single word on every page that Keiran wrote and she’d smooth her hands over their surface and once or twice Liam was sure he’d seen her annotate it and smile, something he found rather absurd but figured it was just her. This was the woman who still wore her wedding ring, who still loved her husband, but couldn’t bear to speak a word to him.

“She reads that one the most,” Liam explained, sealing back the spine with his fingertips. “But it’s not her favourite.” He pulled out the scarlet bound book a later one, the first one that hadn’t been sent to her that she’d gotten herself, that she’d stood in line for quietly all morning on that frosty October morning, brandishing a smile for the book teller as she retrieved her copy. Liam set it down with a little reverence and tapped the cover. That one, he articulated wordlessly. That was her favourite. And it was, too. Not solely because it was the one that she had gotten for herself but because there were passages that made her laugh, bits that made her cry and bits that she couldn’t help but comment upon, sensing a little change in mood in the man who was writing down his thoughts. It was the one that felt most like him, she supposed. That was why it was her favourite.

“Obviously though,” Liam went on, “we’ll be needing the new one and the rest signed,” he pushed down the canvas bag to reveal the rest in varying degrees of disrepair. He turned then and looked at his mother. Then back at Keiran. He smiled a little. “I better go check on Kelly, eh?”

“No, Liam don’t-” she spoke, her words coming out in a quick gasp, but he was gone. Millie blinked, bringing her teeth together, trying not to grind them together out of frustration. She’d kill them, she declared to herself. She’d kill them both and then post the evidence to their father and give him a detailed letter as to why exactly they deserved their fate. Millie knew Kelly hadn’t gone far. She was sure that she’d fine the pair of them sat in the bar with Theodore and the others getting a tall tale told to them by whoever had gotten drunk the fastest. But that was all well and good for them … she, however, was stood with her ex-husband, a pile of books between them, a table, a rotten pen and a whole lot of clothes. Millie buried the thought that came over her.

“You look well,” she offered with a small, half smile. He did, too. He couldn’t have gotten any better with age if he tried. She’d never actually seen a man who suited the wispy bits of grey he had through his hair. She wanted to run her hands through it, like she used to do, and feel her way across his jaw with her lips. He was so close. Had they been this close to each other in fifteen years? She highly doubted it. Yet there was a gulf between them, regardless. She loathed it. But then, she’d made that happen. It was no one’s fault but her own.

“I’m sorry for this,” she found herself saying, gesturing her left hand towards the books. “You don’t have to sign them. It’s a bit silly isn’t it?” She reached forward, pushing back the spine of the first copy again. She didn’t usually keep her books in such poor condition. He knew that. Yet, these weren’t in bad condition per se. Inside they were pristine barring her annotations. They’d just been handled so often it was impossible for them not to wear. She didn’t realise quite how bad that particular one was.

“I’ll fix it,” she promised. Then, she swallowed and looked about herself, desperate to look anywhere other than his face but she found herself going back, drinking in his features like a creature half-starved. And she was. She could have almost touched him but she daren’t. She should have been brash like their son. There was a part of her that recognised he could have been an excellent guest on her show. Had she had any of that gusto still perhaps she would have asked. She could barely get out her words, however, so there was no hope of inquiring to see him again, even if it was purely professional.

“Don’t worry about these,” Millie waved her hands over the books. “I should probably go and see to the kids, shouldn’t I? How much damage d’you think they can do with twenty Euros?” She smiled a little more, dropping her gaze down to her shoes. “Right, so,” she lifted her head. “I’ll um, I’ll go. I’m holding up the queue, aren’t I?”

They were here. She’d come. That left the question of whether or not she would stick around, or even get close enough to say hello. Of course, the question was almost immediately answered by his git of a son, whose greeting was followed immediately by a thud as the bag hit the table. “Liam,” he returned, eyes not even stopping for a moment on the boy. Instead, they moved directly to Millie, not even bothering to be subtle as he took in the new version of her, trying to memorize everything. “Millie,” he added, voice dropping instinctively.

Liam spoke again, pulling Keiran from his attempt at taking her in. Keiran’s eyes followed his son’s movements, though he did glance around for Kelly as Liam went on. “I- right. Okay. Later, kid.” He offered, knowing full well he was being ignored.

He hesitated before taking up the new book to sign, and dropped it in her bag just as she attempted to communicate. She always had been the brave one of the pair of them, hadn’t she? The old Keiran, the one who had been married to the woman standing in front of him, would have smirked and made some commentary about how he didn’t disagree, but she had to know she was inevitably more attractive. The new Keiran wasn’t nearly as cheeky – well, not with her, anyways. So instead he offered a nearly shy smile and ducked his head to sign the next one. He’d sent her this one, he remembered well. His first ever. It was a bloody textbook, so the fact that Liam said she wanted it signed was fairly suspicious. “It’s not a problem,” he replied quietly, glancing up at her with a half smile. “I don’t think the kids would let us out of this without me doing so,” he added, passing Millie a knowing look.

Her words drew his attention to the one Liam said she had read the most – the next in the lineup of books he needed to sign. Nothing came to mind as to a response for that, so he just looked down and signed the book in question. But then she was wanting to leave, and his pulse picked up. He abandoned the book into her bag, knowing he couldn’t give a damn if he made the man behind Millie wait.

“Millie-“ Keiran’s hand shot out, reaching for hers. “Lo-“

Clearing his throat, he released her before altering his word choice. “Look, I think it would be… really lovely if you and me and the kids went out to dinner. But only if you want. It’s been… a long time.”

And Merlin, it really had been. Ages. Years, obviously. Keiran regretting asking immediately, convinced she would turn him down. She had never tried to see him before, and seemed fully terrified at being around him. It was stupid, and she wouldn’t go with it. His jaw clenched anxiously, and Keiran’s left hand wrapped around his right when it curled into a fist. Going for a show of calm rather than panic, Keiran glanced towards the twins and then back at Millie, hoping he hadn’t made a complete mess of everything already.

There would be hell to pay for the Hayes children once Millie swallowed fright and got enough strength about her to box them both around the back of the head. Kelly had made her early exit for she knew she didn’t have the sheer force to put her mother anywhere. As a reward, she’d gotten twenty euros. Conversely, Liam had ducked out right at the crucial moment and now she stood, flailing in the wind – only neatly tucked up, one arm around her middle, the other up, her fingers dancing an idle rhythm on the top of one of the books – without a decent word to say to her ex-husband. Pleasantries over with there was nothing else to say. Years ago she would’ve been carrying on. She was sure she would’ve been behind him, her arms lose around him, her lips in his hair, planting kisses to grow. Now, stood the other side of a table she realised just how bad it had all gotten – as though fifteen years of near silence and the divorce papers hadn’t done that already. As though she needed reminding.

The opportunity to pull away was there. The man behind her was beginning to get very antsy. If he hadn’t have skirted away so easily, Millie was sure Liam would have accused him of not appreciating the most awkward event in the history of his young life. Millie had the luxury of having lived through a few of these events and not exclusively with Keiran, either. She’d had more than her fair share of awkwardness for a life time. Half of her wanted him to just sod the table and kiss her silly, until she couldn’t remember her own name anymore. Yet, he wouldn’t. She wasn’t entirely sure if she’d let him either. No, no, she would. She was sure they both knew on some level that if it happened she would neither complain nor ever tell him to stop. Then she’d have to keep him – and what a shame that would be to coexist with her husband – ahem, former husband – in the same capacity they had done a decade and a half prior. What a dreadful shame.

Keiran’s hand brushed over hers and Millie found her heart pick up from irregular to erratic in a beat. His hand was warm, a deep head radiating from his palms into her cooler, narrower appendage. She could feel the slight roughness of callouses in his fingers. She could perceive the lines in his skin, even, for in a moment he set her on fire again. A little bit of lightning shot through her. All of the other clichéd things that she’d always dismissed as absolute bollocks struck her at once and she swallowed heavily, her throat dry. But then the contact was gone and Millie retracted her hand, curling her fingers into her palm in an effort to conserve the heat, to conserve the feeling of his skin upon hers once more.

At his words, her heart leapt. The idea that she could see him for an extended period of time, that being perhaps an evening’s meal and even long enough for them to walk back the apartment, for him to perhaps come in for a cup of coffee before leaving, it brought something out in her that hadn’t really been there. Hope. Though she yearned to reach out for him again she found herself nodding slowly, a small smile lifting her lips. She wanted to go, of that she was absolutely certain. The children had never really seen them together, could never hope to imagine what they were like side by side in the real world, not simply in the pictures that were littered around the apartment. They’d been young and desperately in love then, before everything had fallen to pieces, shattered by her recklessness. Now they were older, she wasn’t sure she was wiser, but they were something. Could she be so presumptive to suggest even to herself that perhaps there was something there? If not love, something.

“They’d love to go,” she spoke diplomatically, knowing that if she brought herself into it then she’d wilt and tell himself she’d regret. “Is Flanagan’s still where you go when you’re here?” She wasn’t going to offer why she knew that little gem of information. She didn’t even know why she said it. The twins often raved about it though, not least because Flanagan’s son, Brian, who had come to run it in the last few years, had no qualms about letting Liam have a small glass of Guinness, protesting that it was practically required of the boy – otherwise he’d grow no hairs on his chest. It often left Millie feeling more than a little bit uneasy but she had to remind herself Kelly and Liam weren’t like herself and Elliot. They hadn’t had to live through a divorce. They’d never known any different, really. Thus, they were far more well-adjusted than she had ever been at their age.

Once the exchange was finished off, Millie put the books back into the canvas bag and lifted it off of the table, albeit with some struggle. She managed a smile and before she could elect to move, Liam came to her aid and ferried the back from her arms. She looked at him quizzically and he winked at her before hurrying off, leaving her to smooth out her skirt once more, a force of habit it seemed, before looking to Keiran. She smoothed her lips together briefly, sharing the lipstick between the skin.

“Shall we meet you back here once you’re finished?” She asked, glancing at the man who was really and truly beginning to lose his temper now. Once he affirmed it, Millie found one last smile for him before stepping away to meet her children who both wore cheeky expressions. She pushed Kelly’s shoulder, gesturing for them to start walking and the pair continued to grin as their mother followed them through into the bar where everyone else – or, rather, everyone who knew Keiran too well to give a toss about book signings – had gathered, sitting back in arm chairs or perching on stools and sure enough it was there she found her sparkling water with a cynical paper umbrella propped on the side.

“Auntie Millie!” a familiar voice called out. Millie turned after picking up her glass and was immediately enveloped in a bone crushing hug from her nephew. It terrified her how tall Finley had gotten. Equally terrifying was how old he had gotten when she remembered him so fondly as the seven year old who she used to play with – an array of games from tag to building blocks. He was a grown man, though, now. He’d let his hair grow out long and it was held back behind his head in a ponytail. His smile was easy, his eyes kind. He was such a credit to his father, he had no idea.

“How are you, love?” She inquired softly as they separated. “Still working with the dragons?” She reached to smooth back a lock of hair behind his ear and his eyes lit up at the mention, inciting an enthusiastic spiel about his work in Romania. She took her seat, Finley dropping down beside her, the twins across from them and for a while they discussed Finley’s work until Peter moved over, Theodore hot on his heels, the latter wrapping up the twins in a hug, dropping needlessly slobbery kisses onto their cheeks before sitting between them.

Thereafter, Millie seemed to relax. Pints were set down on the table between the arm chairs. A natural rapport built up between them all and more of their family came to sit, Rookwood cousins cropping up here and there, evidence of a Potter or two even flirting around the area. In amongst it all, the twins held the conversations, Theodore’s rambunctious, drunken laughter bouncing up around them and despite herself Millie couldn’t help but grin wickedly and turn back every bounce of wit strength for strength. A dozen bags of peanuts were gotten through before the day was at end and people began to push off around four, Theodore making sure everyone got a hug from him, even strangers who he didn’t know but promised he’d cook dinner for. He was dragged off sooner than he would have liked, to the relief of everyone else who laughed heartily, shaking their heads.

It was soon time for them to get up and find Keiran again and Millie’s heart sank, fright coming round her. With a wave of her wand she shrank the canvas bag and tucked into her own. After fixing it on her shoulder she got to her feet. The twins leapt up immediately and grinned to themselves. Promising to catch up with everyone sometime in the following week, Millie exchanged a few kisses before directing her children out of the bar and through into the area where Keiran had been cooped up signing before.

He was confined by someone now, chatting animatedly. Millie paused, her hands on the shoulders of their children, determined to leave him in his element for the moment. She rarely got to see it. Eventually though, the man shook Keiran’s hand, left one last comment before moving away and Kelly hopped forward, swinging her arms around his neck. She pressed a delighted kiss to his cheek and hugged him tightly before bouncing down away.

“You were really great, dad,” she told him happily before turning to Millie. “Are we ready to go, mum?”

Outside, the air was cool and crisp but still bore the humidity of the summer season. The thrumming sound of the city buzzed around them, indicative of a populous desperate to either get home or get out to the pubs and restaurants for something to eat. Flanagan’s wasn’t far away at all, within walking distance of both the guild hall and the apartment. The twins were content to walk, relishing the proximity of their home to everything else that interested them in their city. They hopped along in front, talking excitably to each other, laughing about everything and nothing in a way that made Millie truly appreciate how close they were. Aside from their petty arguments, they were closer than she and Elliot ever had been. She was grateful for it, too, despite everything that had happened to them in their little lives. They’d still remained close.

Their election to walk together left their parents side by side. They seemed to know, too, that placing their parents together would inevitably mean they’d have to talk. Despite Flanagan’s being close by it was still quite a walk before they’d arrive and Millie didn’t dare spend it with Keiran in silence. They all crossed the road, the twins passing behind a car that rolled by and Millie picked up her pace a little, lifting herself back up onto the pavement carefully before exchanging sides so she was on the far side, away from the road. It was then that she decided she had to try and talk to Keiran.

“When does your next book come out then?” She joked with a half-smile.

They turned the corner, onto the street Flanagan’s was on, and the twins broke out further ahead, leaving the two parents more isolated in each other’s company. Millie let her hands drop down by her sides, her thumb idly coming to reach for her fourth finger, to play with the band wrapped around it. Millie lifted her eyes off of Keiran to look in some of the shop windows that were still ignited in bright, yellow light. They soon clicked off though, their doors opening only to be locked up for the evening, the whole of Dublin seemingly ambling their way down to enjoy the evening the way they wanted to. This was the part about the city that Millie loved the best. There was a rarely a night when they didn’t go out, at the very least for dinner. She supposed that was part of the reason why many were so adamant that this set of twins wouldn’t be like the set that preceded them. They’d been brought up to have a healthy relationship with both of their parents and then crucially the vices that had enveloped their predecessors so tightly during their teenage years. Drugs ruined lives – they got that, so it was easy not to do it. Alcohol? Well, it came with dinner, didn’t it? Unless you were Uncle Theo, you didn’t get drunk on it.

“We’re here!” Kelly exclaimed excitedly and the twins pushed open the door, bouncing inside brightly, the sound of the band playing inside floating out onto the street.

Millie stepped up onto the porch and held the door for Keiran as she slid inside. When she turned, however, she felt what was left of the stuffing she had knocked out of her. The bar had been emptied out. The sound of the band had been a mirage. The children were nowhere to be seen. The light was low, two flickering candles on the only table there cutting through the slight darkness. There was plenty of light, to see, however, and the clip of Millie’s heels on the boards could be heard as she stepped further into the bar, surprise turning her stomach over and over. She glanced back at Keiran, her brows furrowing confusedly.

“Did you know about this?” She asked.

Brian appeared, then. He rarely dressed for serving around the bar, everyone knew who he was because he was the picture of his father. However tonight he’d donned his uniform for once and in the crook of his arm he held a pair of menus as a delighted but no less conspiring smile lit up his features. Millie stepped back, bumping into Keiran’s chest, and she turned, apologising quickly before stepping forward, finding herself caught between the two men like a deer in headlights, despite the cliché.

“Table for two?” Brian inquired airily.

Millie opened her mouth to protest but her legs moved of their own accord, seemingly. Brian took out a chair for her and she sat down gently, the young man tucking it in behind her. Millie put her bag down on the floor and eyed both of the men with a curious expression as the menus were set down.

“Guinness and a bottle of the house red, madam?” He asked with a smirk, pulling out his order pad from the pocket of his trousers. He tapped the pencil on the top and looked between them.

“I will shove the house red up your arse eventually, Brian,” Millie expressed airily as she opened up the menu.

The young man grinned. “You’re back on the rosé then, are you love?” He asked. Millie arched an eyebrow. “White wine it is then!” he declared, writing down the order. “Back in a mo.”

The two were left alone then. Shaking her head, Millie dropped her gaze down to the menu even though she was sure she knew it off by heart. She picked what she wanted and closed the menu with a snap. She fiddled idly with the hem of her dress before reaching to set the menu aside. She was lost for words, in truth. With a table between them, one far smaller than the one at the guild hall, Millie doubted she had ever been closer to Keiran. She could almost feel the warmth of his body. She could imagine where his feet were rested under the table. She could spot his strong hands amidst the bread basket and the jug of water and she wondered if she could reach out for it, lace her fingers with his. She couldn’t though, she was sure. She daren’t.

“I’m going to kill your children,” Millie huffed finally, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto her face.

She could hardly believe they were together again, thrown together by their conniving offspring. Despite knowing she’d probably get her revenge on them, she was awfully glad that they’d done it. Even if it was awkward. Even if it would be an impossible dinner to get through, though she hoped it wouldn’t be: she was with Keiran again. Had it really been fifteen years?

She nodded, and Keiran felt himself release the breath he had drawn in while waiting. He blinked in surprise at her question, but nodded all the same. “Well, usually, yeah. That works.” Liam came over and Keiran very nearly whacked the boy upside the head. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so when in a bit he knew he would be sitting amongst the three of them.

With the twins there, he knew, conversation could be directed through them and to each other without having to worry so very much. It would still be apprehensive and wary, but on safer ground. So he offered a brave smile and watched her head off before turning to the next man. “You know them?” the man asked, looking a little put out, though he tried to remain polite.

“That,” Keiran said, voice a little too proud considering the circumstances, “was my son and the ex-wife I mentioned.”

“Mate, you gave up her?” The other man asked, looking completely befuddled.

Keiran swallowed a retort before signing the book and shooing him so he could handle the less offending people in line behind him. It wasn’t too painfully long before he finished, though it seemed like the line merely grew each time he put out a new book. Maybe he wouldn’t be doing this again. Frankly, Keiran had no idea what he would end up writing about if he did try for another.

--

“Hey, Mr. Deep-in-thought. Shouldn’t you be talking with your fans?”

Keiran looked up in surprise, staring at Avery as she looked down at him. Lifting an eyebrow expectantly, she gestured towards the man a little ways off. Feeling the need to explain herself once Keiran caught sight of him and frowned, Avery spoke quickly. “He really isn’t so bad now. Honest. Please be nice.”

“Right.” He nodded, pushing his chair back to stand and adjust his suit jacket. Patting him on the shoulder, Avery nodded gently to encourage him. Although Keiran basically ignored it, he did as she asked and made his way over to the man in question.  “Darren,” he greeted stiffly, telling himself to maintain eye contact but failing.

“Keiran,” Darren returned, fingers pushing through the hair that was still far too long and curly for his own good. “Listen, I know last time we talked I was a right shit, but… I wanted to- to apologize,” he faltered, looking over his shoulder to some brunette not far off. She nodded and smiled before Darren continued. “I’ve been properly put in my place, as you can see. But I really like your books, and that speech was great.”

Darren looked thoroughly embarrassed, so Keiran decided to humor him for a bit. “Thanks,” he offered, genuinely surprised at the turnaround. No longer were obscenely large words falling, and the general attitude of superiority had been muted, at least for the time being. Whoever that woman was, she had seriously done a number on this guy.

“Listen, Oliver’s still got that penchant for poker and all, so if you’re free next Thursday, we’re all going to his.” Darren added quickly, unwittingly countering Keiran’s previous thoughts regarding vocabulary.

Regardless, the olive branch had been extended, and the last time he could vividly remember one was the time he had failed to accept it. He had ruined everything with just some stupid questions. Ignoring that flash of guilt, Keiran smiled and extended a hand for Darren to take after pulling it from his trouser pockets. The habit had stuck with him since his first day of teaching upwards of twenty years ago, and it clearly wasn’t leaving him now. “Whoever she is, mate,” he added, nodding subtly to the brunette in question, “I’m glad someone finally set you right.”

Darren shrugged and laughed along, clearly more good-natured than he had been in the past. Almost as soon as he the men had said their goodbyes and Darren had wandered back to his… whatever she was, Keiran was surprised to turn directly into his daughter. “Well thanks, love.” He returned, trying not to look bemused.

As the moved to head outside, Keiran wrapped a hand around the back of Liam’s neck, slowing his pace while the girls kept on. “You listen here, kid,” he mumbled, the words a bit more harsh than he meant them to be. He stared forward, sparing glances towards his son as he spoke and they followed the others outdoors. “If you give your mum a heart attack, you’ll be disowned. Got it? I might even return the favor for her.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, pushing Liam forward with that same hand at his neck. Liam bounded up to walk next to Kelly, and Keiran tilted his head to the side as he watched the two prattle on. Millie spoke and he looked up in slight surprise. “There, um.. there won’t be another one, actually.”

A tight-lipped attempt at a smile was dropped before he ducked his head and followed the twins inside. He ran straight into Millie as he stared around the place in shock, his hand moving to rest at the base of her spine in silent apology. His hand dropped as he shook his head. “No, but I dropped Liam a threat earlier that I may have to make good on.”

Brian came around and Keiran wanted to fix him with a glare. The man seemed so genuinely pleased, though, that he had to restrain the impulse, instead just watching everything blankly. The interaction between Brian and Millie made Keiran bristle a bit, unable to miss the fact that he couldn’t even read his ex-wife as well as this man could. Fifteen years was a long time, but even Keiran hadn’t seen her drink anything but the plain red, which managed to somehow put things into perspective all the more.

Taking up the menu, Keiran tapped his fingers against it, knowing what he would end up ordering already. Although Millie smiled and seemed a little more at ease, Keiran had seized up in sheer panic. The situation was a little too similar to their most recent dinner. The one where they found out that the papers were being sent through. Their last dinner as husband and wife. Swallowing hard, he managed a reply. “Not if I get to them first.”

Setting down his menu, Keiran determined that he didn’t want this dinner to end as badly as the other had. They had parted without so much as a final kiss on the cheek goodbye. It was mostly his fault, Keiran knew, because he had been the one to leave first, terrified that he would do or say something absurd at the last second. Like, you know, moving around the table and pulling her into a kiss. A kiss to end all kisses, and one to keep her from leaving. But she hadn't wanted to stay, and he couldn't torture himself with it anymore. So he had left.

“How’s the show, then?” He asked finally, only able to consider work-related topics given the day they’d had.

It wasn’t heart attack proportions, a dinner like this, but quietly Millie felt like she was going to tremble to the point where she shattered into dozens of pieces that couldn’t be stuck together again. Though they’d never argued, she didn’t think she could accurately say that over the years they’d seen eye to eye – simply because they’d never been around each other to meet their gazes – and they’d tried to be as accommodating to one another as possible but they’d never really agreed, just compromised. Despite the fact that they were discussing quite candidly the preferred methods of dealing with their children – maiming and threatening, that is – and agreeing on it as wholeheartedly as two fairly tongue in cheek parents could didn’t just make her smile but it made her feel a little bit lighter inside though she still felt painfully fragile.

Brian returned with their drinks, setting them down carefully along with two glasses for water. He winked at Millie when he set down a tall glass of sparkling elderflower water, knowing that it would be the only thing she’d drink no matter how much he teased her about the wine. He explained briefly he’d leave them for a few more moments to figure out what they were going to order and scuttled away with a smile, leaving them to their own devices. Millie curled her fingers around the stem of the glass and brought it to her lips, the waxy lipstick coating the smooth, pink skin painting across the cool material. She set it down again, savouring the faintly sweet taste. She set it back down softly against the tablecloth and fiddled idly with the stem, avoiding Keiran’s gaze.

When he posed a question to her, she peeked up through her long lashes. Come the nearing September it would mark ten years since she’d started working on the radio and five since she’d gotten her own show. It had been the biggest break of her life, let alone her career, and it meant that she was finally on a stable, even keel for once. The ten preceding years had been tumultuous and unsteady, resulting in her often borrowing money from people she would have rather avoided taking from. Determined to make it on her own, however, she refused to go home, preferring to incur debts from her brother and her great-grandmother, the latter of whom was becoming increasingly difficult when it came to her repaying it. Some way, by hook or crook, she’d always gotten what she’d needed for the children and it was no secret that when the steady income came a great weight was lifted from her shoulders.

“I’m up for an award actually,” she admitted carefully, running her index finger around the rim of the glass. “For the, um, series I did on the theatre scene here.” She smiled a little, a little burst of pride striking through her. “It’s going really, really well. I’m so grateful they let me try.” She’d hated working underneath the other journalists and presenters. It was a learning curve, of course, but she knew she was better elsewhere. She knew that she was better behind the microphone, informing the people of Dublin about the latest football results and the morning traffic. She was the voice that nearly the majority of city goers woke up to. She had a lot to be proud of, indeed.

“But yeah,” she exhaled, shrugging her shoulders with a smile. “It’s whatever, I’m doing alright.” She smirked a little, though. Alright wasn’t the half of it really. For the first time in a long time she was feeling frivolous again, such was how comfortable she truly felt. She wasn’t drinking, something which had taken a long time to kick along with the cigarettes that came back with fresh abundance after the divorce. She’d turned into something of a health freak, which their children mourned more than anything else, and had a reinvigorated sense of purpose, understanding the importance of her job now that they were getting older and more independent and she, ever older and greyer.

“So, in lieu of killing the children…” she broached. “D’you want to elaborate on what you said earlier?” She asked, bringing the glass to her lips, taking a sip before placing it back down. “Why aren’t you going to do any more books?”

It was unthinkable, really. It was the only way she had really seen Keiran over the years, though his books. If she no longer had them then she didn’t know what she would do. Arguably, she could start talking to him on a more regular basis but that would require them to go over some fairly turbulent waters, to work out what on earth was going on because ex-couples did not become friends fifteen years down the line. It wasn’t the done thing, at all. But then, neither was the somewhat ambivalent way they’d received each other over the years. They hadn’t been desperately unfriendly as was custom but they also didn’t put much effort in to be anything other than civil for both their sakes. This was civil, bordering on friendly but still jaunty and awkward, and she didn’t know what she was going to do with herself if she had to try and re-forge some sort of relationship with the real thing.

“Food!” Brian declared, sliding up to the table. “Can I go and assume that you will be wanting something salad-y, Mrs…Ms. Finnigan?” He sobered himself, getting far too ahead of the game and he smiled briefly before looking at Millie gently.

“What’s in season, on the fish menu?” She inquired idly, bringing her glass to her lips again.

“That’ll be the turbot ratatouille thing,” Brian shrugged, scribbling it down. “You’ll like it. Promise.”

Millie rolled her eyes and Brian turned to Keiran, writing down what he ordered before taking the menus away from them. They were then left alone, for a good long while she didn’t doubt. Swallowing another mouthful of her drink, Millie clasped her hands together in her lap and sat back, folding one leg over the other under the table. She studied her ex-husband with a careful, weary eye before scoffing, unable to believe that their children had done this to them. She sat back up again, returning her hands to the table and her other leg to the floor. She licked her lips, rolling them together thoughtfully, and twinkled her fingers against the side of the glass.

“Do we have anything in common anymore?” She asked, feeling brave, mustering a small, incredulous laugh. “Like, are we going to make it through this dinner?”

Keiran hadn’t expected the announcement, but he wasn’t exactly surprised either. Hadn’t she won something before, too? “Looks like today really should be about you, then.” He murmured, gently reminding her of the fact that he’d put the credit for it all in her name back at the conference. “Maybe the kids are off planning something for you, and just trapped us here so it’s a surprise.”

It was a stupid hope, and Keiran knew it. But it wasn’t all that surprising for him to try and push it off, considering he wasn’t able to look at her as he spoke. “But really, that’s great. Sounds like more than ‘alright’ if you ask me.”

He’d been wondering if she was going to take up the topic of his writing again, and really he wasn’t interested in breaching the subject. But now that she had brought it up, he wasn’t sure how to get out of it. “I don’t know if I have anything else in me… I’ve gotten down everything I could manage but, I mean, I left things out of the one we presented today. There’s some stuff that I just can’t get onto paper.” Things that just hurt too much.

Guilt hit him over the head again, just as it had every time he considered taking the book to his publisher. No one who read the book would be unaware of who his ex-wife was, but it would be painfully obvious that he wasn’t quite okay when Millie opened the book to see that he hadn’t ever been able to address her by her name. That she was barely there because so many of the moments he wanted to write were good ones and it killed him.

“Look, I don’t even know if you’re going to like this new one, honestly. And I knew it while I was writing it but I didn’t know how to-“

Keiran called Brian all manner of awful names in his head, questioning whether or not he would actually return to the spot during later trips into town. Or whether he would end up banned from Dublin all together when Millie found out about the book. His food order was given in a short tone that betrayed his jaw clenching painfully.

He had to explain before she read it. But getting the words out would be damn near impossible. If only he’d been brave enough to write the words into the book somewhere. -- But then she spoke and Keiran couldn’t help but feel like it was an attack on his words earlier. Reading her signs was insanely hard, considering how well he used to know her. Or how well he thought he knew her, then. His eyebrows drew together in confusion and his lips parted as he shook his head slightly. She hadn’t even read it yet.

How could she already be mad at him?

“Millie, if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”

It was the first time he had managed to maintain eye contact with her for the entirety of his reply, and even then the tone of his words was withdrawn and taken aback. Keiran hadn’t really felt like the dinner would go well, but for Merlin’s sake! He hadn’t even managed a drink from his glass yet, and she already didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Look,” he continued rapidly, hands falling to wring the napkin which had been set on his lap, “I can just tell Liam and Kelly that I wasn’t feeling well or something and it’ll be fine. No need to do this if you don’t- well… Whatever. Nevermind. I shouldn’t have asked.”

It was unlikely that their children were doing anything other than sitting behind a screen, nibbling on popcorn and waiting for the fireworks to start being let off. Unbeknownst to them both, Kelly and Liam were nearby, waiting with bated breath to hear laughter that wasn’t cynical, to spy through the kitchen door genuine smiles that belonged to their parents between them, that weren’t placed upon them with false happiness, happiness that had to exist outside of the way their parents felt about each other. They wanted to see it. They wanted to see that they were right, that they’d read her and they’d read him to an absolute script. They wanted to see them make the dedications and the wedding ring she persisted in wearing count. They wanted to see it.

A bashful smile tugged at Millie’s lips and she shook her head. She lifted her gaze hesitantly to Keiran, taking in the way his mouth curled around his words gently and with ease. She wanted to reach out, to run her thumb across the lower on like she used to. She wanted to feel his warm breath, experience the contortion of his mouth as the words slipped off of his tongue. Yet, she could hear them. She was given the luxury of hearing him speak just to her and not to a crowd, also. She had him all to herself and she felt greedy, she felt desperate to keep him there. But of course naturally they fell into a familiar discomfort. They fell into the way they’d been before. It was as though nothing had changed and instantly Millie regretted her words.

“I’m not trying to have an argument with you, Keiran,” she despaired, looking up at him. “I just don’t want you to feel like you need to sit here and be polite because it’s pointless, isn’t it?”

Her face bore the strain of the fear that they would elapse into it, her fingers gripped at the table’s edge and she looked at Keiran desperately, trying to make him see quietly that she wasn’t trying to be difficult, that she actually just didn’t want to inconvenience him. In the kitchen, however, Kelly groaned, irritation sparking behind her eyes. Liam rolled his, plucking up the little glass of Guinness that Brian had gotten for him off of the side. He took a glug of it and watched carefully, waiting. They both waited, in fact, but as their parents looked at each other, Kelly lost her temper.

Pushing open the kitchen doors she made her way over to the juke box and took a euro from her pocket. She slotted it into the machine, feeling their eyes on her, and flicked the list before picking a song at random from the slow ones that the jukebox had. She then turned, looked pointedly at the pair of them and arched her eyebrows, daring them to try and bow out of the meal before storming off to the kitchen once more, throwing it open with a bang, the door flapping uselessly behind them. Millie slouched ashamedly in her seat and reached back to rub at her neck.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, lifting her gaze again. She pursed her lips briefly and sat up straight again, opening her hands out imploringly. “I don’t want to argue. Can we pretend I didn’t say it? I want to have dinner with you. I do. I really do. It’s just been so long I don’t want … oh, I don’t know.” She dropped her gaze briefly, glancing over at the jukebox.

Letting in a shuddering sigh, Millie screwed her eyes shut and then reopened them, fixing them on her former husband.

“Dance with me?”