By the Jugular

Robert Thomas Lupin,

If I have to spend another day here, listening to that prat call me ‘Melissa’ then I’ll either save you the trouble of butchering him or I will quit. Now, in lieu of either eventuality – look at those big words, eh? College is paying off! – I need to see you. Whoever is checking the post these days can do as they like with this implication but what I need to talk to you about is off the books, okay? I need a helping hand.

Thanks,

M.H

The threat had been one that that Melissa Hayes had been meaning to make good on all week – the one that comprised of visiting the former Minister, or absentee Minister rather, that is. Time, ergo lack thereof, and missed opportunities had conspired to make it a near impossibility but finally, Millie made her time, got her window of opportunity and took off before anyone could tell her the contrary and keep her back.

A sweet summer rain was falling when she arrived on the apparition perimeter not a mile from Khaat Lupin’s residence. Throwing up the grey hood of the jumper she wore under her leather jacket, Millie began to trudge through the mud, walking the rest of the way, and happy to do so. Once she sank past the wards, a little bit of activity in the upper story that she could perceive through the rain alerted her to the fact that they knew she was there. She was glad for it, too.

Millie jumped up onto the porch, grateful for the sudden cover, and she pulled down her hood once more, lifting her hand up to knock on the front door. There was a lot riding on this meeting. A little bit more than she would have liked to have admitted. But trouble was brewing, she could feel it in her bones, and when the time came to have to pick up her wand, she wanted to be able to do it.

She’d never been just the secretary, after all said and done.

The owl came in the open patio doors on the back of the house and dropped the letter in Robert's lap. It was a beautiful day, and the back of Khaat's living room was wide open, the summer breezes gently blowing through the log mansion. Robert liked that the glass doors went all across the back of the living room, allowing the room to be completely open to the outdoors. He had drawn an age line to keep the wee ones from falling into the pool--or just as likely to keep abbey from going all Labrador in the pool.

He opened the letter and read it. Millie. Word from her just warmed his heart, in general. Melissa? Oh, lord. Gideon was lucky he didn't have his netherparts missing already. That really was tantamount to an unforgiveable, Robert knew. Millie hated arrogance as much as he did, and she was within her right to hate Pierce.

He was very much hoping that Pierce hadn't mistreated her--other than the name business. He wanted Pierce gone as soon as possible, but Pierce had hurt her in any way, he might need to simply come up missing--maybe permanently.

"Minister," one of her house elves called. "There is, someone here...On the front porch. Its some blond woman. She's just sitting there, like she's waiting on the night bus or something. Shall I send her off, Sir?"

"No, no," Robert said. "Nobody comes here without a bloody good reason. The estate is much too hard to find. And anyone who meant us harm would hardly knock. I'll take care of it. Thank you, Suki."

"If you're having a guest, shall I brew tea?"

"You should brew tea simply because my cup is empty," he laughed.

"Again? Yes, Sir. Straight away. Another pot of Earl Grey?"

"That's fine, but make a pot of the Peach Apricot Tart tea, too, please."

"That's one of your best, I think," Suki said, smiling. "The pastry crust taste is very nice. I'll make a tray and bring it in." She headed to the kitchen.

He frowned and got up and laid his newspaper and his glasses aside. He went to the door, debating on whether he wanted Millie to know he was, basically, well, aside from how thin he'd gotten during the time he'd been cursed. The fatigue had righted itself, and he had been back working out in Brian's home gym. His strength was returning. His appetite, however, had not returned--not so much. He opened the door and saw Millie.

"Millie," he smiled. "my god, how I've missed you. Come in."

When the door opened, there was never going to be a better sight than Robert himself and Millie couldn’t help but throw herself at him, winding her arms around him and hugging him tight, pressing a bright kiss to his cheek before springing away again, a grin lighting up her features as she found herself back within the presence of the Minister once more.

“Right back at you, mister,” she assured him with her glib humour as sharp as ever. “You look well. Really well. I mean, given everything.”

She leaned down and tugged at the laces of her boots, pulling them off roughly before setting them down next to the other shoes by the door. Divesting herself of the jacket she’d donned that morning before heading out. After hanging it on the hook by the door, also, she shoved her hands into the pockets of the hoodie which was a little too big for her – hazard of stealing her husband’s clothes - but it was desperately comfortable and smelt of him still so she couldn’t help but don it.

“So, tell me you’ve got tea and chocolate biscuits waiting because that walk was an arse. I mean, it’ll do wonders for excess baby bulge but c’mon,” she smirked. There wasn’t an ounce of baby bulge on her, in truth. For once, however, there was an air of genuine health around her. She wasn’t scrawny anymore. Whether he’d been deliberate in doing it or not, Keiran had taken care of that – the twins too. She did, finally, look like a proper woman with a swell to her figure that was complementary.

“Have you been plotting the demise of Pierce yet? I’ve been working on it. He killed my fish, by the way. Fred is no more. The bastard. I mean, I can put up with feeling like I live in bloody Transylvania or whatever but what a knobhead – killing my fish. As it is, no one is brave enough to go through Eli’s desk yet so it’s full of pygmy puffs, still. I don’t know if he knows. I hope they bite him, whatever happens.”

“And,” she added finally, “don’t let me forget about asking you for a favour.”

He was quick to return her hug and the kiss, kissing her cheek affectionately.

"You," he said, closing the door behind her, "are now privy to the secret of my wellness. I do have plans for our Mr. Pierce, but that all depends on him thinking that I am a feeble, incapacitated halfwit still. And since you are no fan either, I trust fully that you can keep the secret. There are few who know, and I must keep it that way for now."

He motioned her to follow him through to the living room. He turned back though when he mentioned baby bulge.

"Baby? Oh, Millie, congratulations. You're going to be a wonderful mother. You look well. You will let me know if there's something I can do there, right? We must make sure that all goes well." He glanced towards the kitchen. "Suki," he called. "Don't forget the biscuits, would you?" He looked back at Millie. "This house runs on biscuits, I think. I don't know that the staff misses a day without making fresh bread and fresh biscuits. And Angus makes the biggest, most amazing cinnamon rolls on the planet. If you ever want to see the biggest breakfast sideboard in the wizarding world, you really should come for breakfast. Come sit down."

It was true. There was always a huge crowd at the table. Khaat, Brian, seven of her eight children, Angus, Marcus, Kate, and himself. More often than not it also included Michael Tremaine, Steven and Cassidy Walker, Jess and Jack Black Heart, and their children as well. That added another six children. When Hogwarts was on break, that also added Andrew Diamond. Nor was it unusual to see Lee Sheperd at the table with them. A typical meal needed, here, to feed at least 30 people.

And with Khaat and Brian insisting that no food be conjured and that everything was fresh, the kitchen was always open. Cookies, cakes, pies, trifles, ice creams, fresh candies--there was something fresh every day. No one here ever went hungry.

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear he killed Fred. He surely won't be able to find or get rid of all those pygmy puffs though. Give it six months, and he'll be overrun with them. He won't have a path to his desk. And that is something I hope you invite Ms. Parkinson-Nott to get a great big photo of. Let's see if he can manage a smile for that.

"But I know you too well. You didn't hunt me up just to vent about Gideon Pierce...." He sat down in the wing chair by the hearth that he had come to love. "What really brings you here, Millie?"

“Here’s hoping,” Millie enthused wryly. Somehow motherhood, given her own mother’s successes or lack thereof, wasn’t the most appealing thing in the world. Being presented with two babies for the price of one, too, was as mystifyingly wonderful as it was terrifying. She and Keiran had dealt with it in a fashion. For it they had two bouncing babies that had a little bit too much of her mischief in them already and she had no clue if that was for their advancement or detriment that they inherited that trait.

“Nine months later and I feel less like a blob and more like a human being. It’s nice. Makes a change.” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and produced her wallet, enjoying the novelty of brandishing it again. It was a testament to how often she left her own home. Even if she had only done so today to go to another, it certainly warranted her taking some just in case cash and all of the rest. But then, she also had pictures – a whole load of them, in fact, which she was eager to show Robert.

Plopping down as directed, Millie took the photos out of the little pocket and put the wallet down. She flicked through them quickly, a wistful smile lighting her features as a small lurch within her complained that she was too long and too far away from her babies yet again. Then she set out the pictures, one of Liam and Kelly together cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket. Another with them in their cribs with the cats, Lucius and Narcissa, perched on the windowsill, peering at them with unreadable feline expressions. Then another that was of them sleeping on Keiran, that one being her favourite. They’d had a well-documented existence thus far. She’d already filled one photo album.

“Liam and Kelly,” she introduced them with a proud grin. “It was a buy one get one free offer, you see, and I just thought, well, why not, y’know? In truth, someone needs to take to that man with a pair of wall bricks but, hey, I’m not complaining too much.”

She had in the beginning, however, when she’d felt truly only a teenager, well out of her depth with no one to help her. It hadn’t been the plan, of course, for things to happen the way they did but somehow they’d made it out of the other end, her and Keiran. The cynic in her wanted to know how long this current good patch would last but the optimist was saying forever so that was what she was going for. Robert didn’t need to know about the bad stuff. That she’d airbrush out. It didn’t happen.

“So,” she brought her hands together, “just in case pygmy puff murder happens and the whole world falls apart … it’s been a long time since I have done anything other than sit on my arse … um, y’know, duelling. Like, proper stuff. I hate to ask. It’s so embarrassing. But Keiran… he got um,” she bit her lip, “pretty beat up, to put it mildly, by some bastard Death Eater. No clue who it is. Um, Theodore’s looking into it. Oh, uh,” she thought twice. “You can forget that bit. No one’s looking into it. Hush hush. Um, what I guess I’m trying to say is that if by some stroke of malevolence on the part of the Death Eaters they manage to incapacitate Keiran again … I don’t think I have the skill to protect my family.”

She inhaled deeply through her nose, feeling as though a comment about how much therapy she bought to be able to say that needed to be made. Potter’s Army had been a lifetime ago. She was a different woman from the girl that picked duels for sport. Life had happened. Misadventure had happened. Now she had something to lose and if she couldn’t protect herself then she couldn’t protect her children and moreover, misplaced though her husband would say that fear was because he could take care of himself, she couldn’t protect him. She wasn’t going to be the helpless housewife. That wasn’t her.

“And you’re pretty badass,” she went on. “So, what I’m saying is I’d really, really, really be grateful if you could help me have enough about me to be able to kick Death Eater – or anyone’s, really – arse. I need you to teach me, Robert. If you’re feeling up to it that is,” she quickly amended. “Like, no pressure. Just, I’d really appreciate it.”

Robert brightened, looking at her photos. "They're gorgeous," he said. "Absolutely gorgeous. I wish I'd been able to be there for you. I wasn't at my best, you know," he said. "But they are beautiful." He handed the book back to her. "We've got a pair of twins too since I saw you last." He picked up a photo from the mantel of Khaat's new boys. "They're four months now. Daniel and Benjamin. Absolutely as identical as I've ever seen--almost impossible to tell them apart. Gives us seven under four. Abbey and Dakota just turned four, and the triplets will be three this week. Doesn't seem possible."

Khaat's bright spirited house elf, Suki, brought the tea tray, with two tea pots, and a plate of an assortment of biscuits. She put the tray on the coffee table and left again quietly.

"Thank you, Suki," he said. "Earl Grey, or Peach Apricot Tart tea? Help yourself to the biscuits." He frowned when she mentioned that Keiran had been beaten by death eaters. He wasn't going to mention that he and Khaat knew about their school. He had no intention of speculating in front of her whether or not the beating had any connection with the "off books" school they were running to help those not considered 'worthy' of attending Hogwarts.

He knew she was right. She needed to be able to defend herself and her children. Possibly Keiran if he weren't able to do it.

"Indeed," he said. "That was something I meant to do. Anyone who works for the Minister should well be able to kick some serious arse. That training is well overdue. We do need to begin that at once.

"First things first though, do you or do you not have a house elf? Even if you can defend yourself, having a backup plan is essential. You'll find house elves to have more than their fair share of defensive skills, and they are unfailingly loyal. With twins, you'll find that the elves are a huge help in all sorts of ways. Hire yourself a house elf. Do it at once, if you haven't.

"Now, second question. How's your basic fitness level? Aside from the baby business? Do you walk, or stretch or swim? Anything you like will help. I've found that aside from wielding a wand, it is immensely helpful to be in good shape physically. That wand is not always foolproof in keeping you alive.

"We need to train here," he said. "For obvious reasons, no one can know you have my help. How fast you learn depends largely on how much you're willing to work. I can work as long as you can hold out, I promise you."

A flutter of pride settled within the stomach of the blonde woman and her hand fell onto her jean-clad thigh once the pictures were replaced in her wallet. She picked at a thread along the seam and wondered idly to herself whether she’d fit in the leather ones she kept for the sake of nostalgia, from a time that felt like it wasn’t even her life anymore, roving amidst the underground club scene well beneath the age at which it was endorsed and prescribed by either state. Not that she’d be going for the psychedelic anymore but the culture was a familiar one to her – all of the fringe cultures, were. Had life been a little different, she would have made one hell of an Auror.

When the House Elf appeared, brandishing the tea and the biscuits, Millie reared herself from her reverie and picked up one of the tastiest looking biscuits, offering it to the Elf with a thank you on her lips. Once the creature disappeared, Millie found herself shaking her head in wry amusement. She leaned forward and picked up the pot of earl grey for Robert. She poured him out a cup and set the pot back down before splashing some of the apricot and peach tea into a cup of her own. He knew her, still. The sweet tooth was still rampant and the penchant for the bizarre was, needless to say, there to stay.

“That’s my thinking,” she agreed, picking up a biscuit. “I can definitely ruin lives via paperwork but picking up a wand to do something a little bit tricky is not a familiar thing anymore. I didn’t realise until now that the whole sixth year to seventh year cock up would mean so much, like. I wasn’t ready to do N.E.W.Ts. Here’s suspecting that aside from Divination, I couldn’t do them. The Ministry, God bless them, gave me a nice way to shirk that whole debacle in wait. Though, granted, that does leave me without a whole lot of knowledge banked.”

She bit into the biscuit, lifting her hand up to catch the crumbs and she put it down again, thinking for a moment, listening to Robert before looking up, quirking an eyebrow at him. It was as though he’d read her mind – though, she supposed that wasn’t such a stretch given all of the skills that man kept under wraps. One baby would have most assuredly been a nightmare for a young woman who knew not the meaning of still. Two, coupled with all of the traumas of a negligent mother seeping in, telling her she’d be the same, that she’d make another Millie and another Elliot out of her children, half-ruined her. A House Elf would’ve done the trick. Better, her husband would’ve. Did.

“Oh, Merlin,” she sat back, taking her tea with her. “I don’t know, I mean…we never had a House Elf when I was growing up and I mean, surely they should be off living in Hobbit Holes having multiple breakfasts or something? Like, rather than pandering to me that is.” She rolled her lips together. “How opposed are they to dressing up like Santa’s Little Helpers at Christmas?” She inquired, as though it was some sort of conspiracy between their entire race to either thwart or endorse the popular cliché. “Can I have one that speaks Russian?”

There were two kinds of people in this world. There were the sensible ones that hired House Elves to wash their clothes and talk to their children because they wanted to get on with their lives and there were the Melissa Hayes’ of the planet that considered all of the variables – the chief and most important ones being the eccentricities of her possible acquirements.

She didn’t want Elves. It felt too grossly pretentious to her – as though they’d actually become the prissy purebloods that, by blood, Keiran was inclined to be – not consciously, of course, but it could happen. The irony of it all was that in the loss of having him as some sort kindred half-blood spirit, she felt a little bit like a blot on the old family tree, as it were, with her blood traitor-ness and her little impure children. She didn’t want to play at being the socialite, either. She knew Robert wouldn’t suggest that next but still, she felt a little bit odd for it. She was a Finnigan first. Finnigans bred with Muggles. Purebloods didn’t. Handy that she wasn’t a pureblood then, wasn’t it?

“I run,” she asserted strongly, nodding. “Every week.” It saved the smoking and the excessive drinking and the, well, the drugs, didn’t it? She’d quit cold turkey, after one last cigarette right at the start of her pregnancy. The subsequent month or so had been hell. In fact she was damn sure it had done her more wrong than right but clear of it now, she felt stronger for it. She still drank occasionally like it was the last thing on earth she could have but that was a human fallacy. The drugs, however. Luckily enough, bizarrely enough, Jamaica had solved that one. She hadn’t so much as rolled a joint since she had come home and that was heading for nearly two years ago, now. She’d given up a lot. Her old friends, as it were. Long gone. Long, long gone. Replaced in kind with a way of channelling the destructiveness in a healthier manner. Saved throwing herself out of the window, she supposed.

Fitness, she could say with almost one hundred percent security, was not her demon. An inability to drive and a general disdain for apparation also meant that she did a lot of walking – the way she’d arrived at the house being case in point. She could do it. She had the stamina. She certainly gave Keiran the run around if nothing else. Therein she felt rather confident – laced with natural apprehension, that is – that she could stand the test of it. Stubbornness would also probably be her help as well as her hindrance.

“I’ll work as long as you do then,” she swore with a smile, setting her teacup down. “This is important. I’m not going to be lazy about it. Can we start now?”

He listened to her talk about elves needing to be in hobbit holes. He smiled. "Well, I suppose if you intended to treat them in the time honored traditional enslavement, you'd be right. Always hated that business and never did support that. It wasn't just snobbery--it was arrogance to the point of cruelty.

"That's not how Brian hired these elves, though. You might consider this, if you ever choose to rethink it. They are paid here. They have living quarters to their scale, decorated and furnished as they please. They have time off and benefits, and they are employees in every sense of the word. They are free elves, and they stay because they see what we're doing as worthwhile.

"They knew coming into this that they were not just to assist with the house and the children but that they were, first and foremost, additional and very powerful security. The household duties are extra to fill their time, and tasks that they enjoy doing. And, I presume you know me better than to think I give damn about what others think of me. I have well earned my reputation of being a prick because of it, and I'm not exactly striking out to change it.

He was pleased to hear that she had her own fitness routine. That would definitely help.

"Its a good start," he told her finally. "What we need to work on, magically, is speed and accuracy. Not just speed on drawing your wand, but speed in your thinking and assessing your situations. It means accuracy on aim and accuracy in casting your spells. That means developing focus, and learning to stay calm in high risk situations.

"Physically, it means being well toned and trained--knowing exactly what your body is capable of and what it isn't. Cardio training and core training are musts. Strength training is definitely helpful. The other thing I find for me to be essential is tai chi. It helps me develop discipline, focus, fluidity in dueling, and it calms my mind. You may find what works for you might be different. That's fine. Personally, I prefer knowing I can outrun certain things--especially if my wand gets lost or broken.

"Which brings me to one other skill you might consider learning--wandless magic. It prevents you from ever being entirely unarmed. Give it some thought. And if you'd like to start now, that's fine with me. Shall we go down to the gym and start with some simple sparring?"

Whilst she herself had never grown up amongst House Elves, her mother had. They, unlike the ones that bustled around Brian and Khaat’s home, were the enslave ones. Ironically, Lavender had treated her children with the same simple disdain that she had greeted the Elves with. Everyone had a use, after all said and done. So the idea of enslaving little creatures had without preamble scandalised the young witch sat across from the minister. However, too, the idea of giving them wages, holidays and all the rest highly confused the same witch who had only ever understood them as subordinates, as serfs. To free them from that was a natural progression but it was still, regrettably, terribly alien to her.

“I’ll think about it,” Millie said gradually, “I’ll see what Keiran thinks. I’m not entirely sure he’ll go for it but we’ll see.”

In truth, Millie hadn’t a clue whether it was something Keiran’s family had ever dealt in. She knew the Rookwoods had House Elves coming out of their ears – bent Gringotts Goblins, too – but she’d never seen a House Elf in Keiran’s family home so she couldn’t be sure that was a Hayes thing. Being as it also wasn’t something Finnigans did, either – they would rather lean on each other and help their family members instead – she didn’t know whether they’d come to an agreement on it or not. She half didn’t want to but the language Robert was using – powerful security – was tempting Millie more than perhaps he realised.

Thankfully, before Millie could commit to the idea of getting a House Elf, they moved on. She listened intently, sipping at her tea and nibbling at her biscuit. As he spoke on, she began to get the first jitters of nervousness as she realised what she was going to do – and without her husband’s say-so, too. That wasn’t to say that Millie would ever be subservient to him – no, bad conduct had shown she’d do exactly what she pleased to – but even so, she felt a little bit nervous knowing that Keiran would not know until the time came or events conspired to bring them together in a situation neither would have ever imagined. She definitely wasn’t having second thoughts, though.

“That sounds good,” Millie agreed, in response to his offer to begin at that moment.

She followed Robert down into the gym and found herself getting all the more nervous now. She took out her wand, feeling the supple wood and the carved handle. She could feel the thrumming of the augurey tail feather within the sycamore, threatening to burst forward. She hadn’t realised how she’d neglected her wand. It had a flair for the dramatic, even though its main skill laid in Divination and it thrived on the power a duel could bring. Sensing its mistress’s beginning change – sensing the burgeoning beginning of a new power. It was excited.

“Where do we begin then?” Millie asked.

He went downstairs to the gym, and went past the usual treadmills and weights and such to the open floor area in the back of the room.

"Let's see if Brian still has a training dummy down here," Robert said. He drew his wand, ready to activate the old training dummy that was in the equipment closet, opened the door and was greeted by a deafeningly loud scream that sounded very distinctly like Khaat, only in spine chilling, blood curdling terror. He felt a rush of dark energy like a cold gust of a winter wind rushing straight for him.

He sighed, irked. Michael's boggart. So that's where it had gotten off to. It had either escaped its box again, or Michael had planted it there on purpose for ambush. Rober raised his wand and was about to dismiss it, when it seemed to zone in on Millie. It sharply shifted direction from him to her, zipping around him and jetting the dark smoky mist straight for her.

"Boggart!" he said sharply. He wanted to see if Millie remembered her basic Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons enough to ward off a boggart. If so, then he would lock the thing up in its box again and, when he could find an opportune moment, he would slip the thing back into Michael's house and put it someplace to deliberately scare the daylights out of his dear friend.

Robert was absolutely not above pranking, and Michael Tremaine was always a perfect foil for it. He just usually had to carry out his mischief in total secrecy because it generally seemed to be unacceptable for a man in his position to resort to such things.

Utter balderdash was what it was. He often grew frustrated with the reality that there were so few that he could be himself with. So few to have fun with anymore. And so many who thought he had to live up to his image.

Yes, Michael needed to have this thing back and in a mighty inconvenient way, he decided.