Tell me, is this just a dream? 'Cause I'm really not fine at all.

Sometime later on in the timeline of sadness.....

“So,” Millie broached after a long, pregnant silence. She peeked at the woman sat primly in her chair opposite and arched her eyebrows expressively, half mockingly, at the clipboard which the healer held in front of her face. The woman didn’t so much as twitch which Millie took as an encouraging sign and made another face at the clipboard, crossing her eyes and twisting her mouth into a grotesque scowl. The woman looked over the top of the board mid-contortion however and Millie coughed, straightening her sight before turning around sharply to ‘admire’ a painting on the wall. She liked art but in her opinion this was utter twaddle and completely useless scribble – as was the whole meeting, really.

“Stop being so childish,” the shrill voice of healer Lewis beat out towards Millie with a terse sigh. “Shall we look at your symptoms, dear?” Healer Lewis waited for Millie’s nod and then she began to read, the young woman before her flinching with every bullet point. “Unless you have been drinking or self-medicating, you can’t sleep. You are jumpy. You can’t concentrate long enough to teach, let alone mark any of your students’ essays. You dream about the battle.” A particularly violent twitch of her shoulders made Millie slam her eyes shut and the healer looked up curiously, pausing.

“Are you alright dear?” Millie managed another nod. “You’re distressed by the event, especially being reminded of it,” the healer added in a soft undertone. “Memories of the night are shaky at best. You have general memories but no details for me. Anyone could get the generalities. Particularly the point of attack, yes?” Millie nodded shakily. “So, as a result you won’t go near Hogwarts grounds, will you?” Millie’s gaze fell to her hands. “I am surprised, in actual fact, that given your colourful history of running away you are still there.” Millie glanced up.

“I can’t …” she whispered. “I can’t leave Keiran.”

“Yes,” the healer quipped. “Because that’s going swimmingly isn’t it? Shall we round off? Loss of interest in daily life and activities. When was the last time you ran? Possibly prior to the accidents because of course running requires outside. Appetite is replaced with alcohol and potions. Teaching is the last thing you want to do, yes?” Millie nodded gradually. “And I take it you feel like you can’t talk to anyone about it?” The healer finished softly. Millie’s head shook furiously.

The healer got up and abandoned her clipboard. She took hold of Millie’s hands in her own wrinkled ones and lifted the girl onto her feet before embracing her fiercely. The girl half collapsed into the elder woman’s arms and she supported her regardless, hugging her tightly for fear of losing not only the strand and the progress they’d made that morning but also the young woman herself. She could feel the desire to flee thrumming within the girl. She wasn’t going to allow that to happen, of course.

“That night,” the healer continued, pulling away. “Represents the loss of your strength. That strength you got from your family. What happened that night docked you your husband and your children but most particularly the latter around whom you orientated your life, didn’t you?” Millie nodded. “No more drugs,” the healer resolved. “Quit smoking again. Alcohol and potions need to go. The pain you have? It’s up here,” she prodded at Millie’s temple. “Get outside again. Talk to Keiran. You won’t fix everything but you can start there.”

“I don’t know how,” she whispered dolefully, glancing up from the floor. “Any of it. I can’t… I need…”

“You need to get your life in order because that impermanence you feel coming. The end of so much? That’ll be of your making if you don’t get a wriggle on and find your happy place again. This is stress. This is mourning. This is the result of trauma. It’s all of the above, my dear, but you need to fix this. I’m not giving you any medication. You have great willpower. We’ve seen that. You dealt with his injury. You dealt with the threat to the school. You can do this. You need to do this. Otherwise all of these happy memories are going to be just that – memories. If you need help, get yourself a dog or something. Something to channel happiness. Something innocent. Plus, they need the outside. It’ll be good for you. Fix yourself, fix your marriage – the rest will come.”


You can’t forgive her for only taking one thing out of that lecture. Millie left the psychiatric wing of St. Mungo’s that early afternoon feeling a bit more wholesome, knowing what it all meant now. The words on the page were of little meaning in themselves but what it meant for her was monumental. The alcohol, so she was reminded in big, bold, red lettering, needed to go. The pain potions had to be cleared out. Cael was informed he could not give her anything but tender loving care and a helping hand now and again. She had to deal with this herself but she didn’t have to, of course. No, she could and was encouraged to talk to Keiran, to Elliot, to anyone, about it. Though, none of it really solved the problem of where to start.

So she started with the dog. The innocent happiness. The menagerie was open and the animals were wild and excitable. One was particularly fluffy and barked at her contentedly so she scooped him out of the basket, cuddled him into her coat and purchased a labradoodle whom she immediately called: Bean. A collar, some food and a few other essentials later and Millie was making her way back to Hogwarts, whispering to the dog about how she was going to take him on lots of adventures around the grounds eventually and how he was going to love his spot by the fireplace and all about how different Hogwarts was to the menagerie. She didn’t really notice until she was passing through the portrait that, actually, she could show him.

“Okay you,” Millie murmured, lifting Bean out from her coat. She set him down on his feet and he bounced a little before winding around her legs, eager to have a look around but still quite shy. Millie divested herself of her coat and her shoes before taking the things out of the carrier bag and she hurried over to the hearth, the puppy tripping along after her, overjoyed when she sat down on the floor next to the fireplace.

“Look, look, look,” she cooed at him, rubbing his head. “Look at this? Huh?” She showed him his collar. “You’re going to be the most handsome dog in all the land. Yes you are. Uh-huh.” Millie clasped it around him and then lifted Bean into her lap, pressing a kiss to his head, gaining a lick for her trouble. “Ooh,” she went on, taking out the bed. “Look at this. This will be comfy and look at the blanket!” She unfurled it and wrapped Bean up in it, lifting him up with a laugh before getting to her feet. “You’re adorable,” she declared, dangling him in the air. “Look at you.”

What happened to the woman and the dog? Well, daytime television happened to pass the time. She still had no motivation to start on her essays though she felt resolved to at least try for an hour before dinner. Content was she? Oh yes. Very much so. For the first time in a long time.

"Who is he Sarah? I have a right to know who you chose over me."
"It doesn't matter who he is, Jack! It matters who you're not."
--
"Every single second of my pathetic little life.. is meaningless. It adds up to a big fat nothing, because I thought I had a destiny. But it turns out that fate is just a joke."

Things had been more and more tumultuous between Keiran and his wife over the past couple weeks. He obviously would have preferred if things started to improve, but it was just looking more and more unlikely. A lot more was coming back to him than Keiran cared to admit - especially to Millie, considering she was nothing like his memories of her suggested. He was having incredible amounts of trouble trying to put together what he knew of her after the accident with the images his memory brought up.

They had been happy, if his memory was giving him real images rather than scenes imagined by a man desperate for things to make sense. He wasn't even sure anymore, honestly. Not sure of anything except the fact that his marriage was not what it should have been. What he had always assumed it would be, if he ever ended up wanting to settle down. Now, though, he was married without having asked for it. Now he was broken both physically as well as emotionally. And now he was alone. If not literally, then metaphorically. Married - tied to someone - but completely alone.

But things had changed again that morning. The curse had been muted for... Merlin knew how long, and he didn't hurt. He wasn't craving pain potion outside of the general dullness it created around his senses. It was different, though, to be sure. Keiran wasn't desperate for it, as he had been for the past several weeks. Nearing a month, if not more. Honestly, Keiran had started to lose track of things, so what did he know, really? All he could focus on was that the pain was gone. Missing.

And he felt free.

For the first time in over a week, he was excited to see Millie. Both of them seemed to be making excuses as to why they couldn't spend the time they needed to get their relationship working again, and Keiran was tired of it. They were due for a new adventure, and a new interaction. Perhaps this was their chance.

Holding his cane sideways, one hand toyed with the handle and the other ran across the wood towards the padded base, rather unable to keep his eyes off of it as he walked. Keiran couldn't even begin to picture what Millie might say when he walked in, but a little wave of excitement was washing over him as he let go of the bottom of the cane, instead reaching out to push open the door to their chambers after he gave the password. The portrait shot him a vaguely bemused look, but lifted his eyebrows in a manner that gave the professor pause. The expression was one of amusement but also came off as wary. The poor rider in the portrait had gotten used to his and Millie's attitudes, Keiran supposed, and it certainly wasn't a good sign.

A slight frown appeared on Keiran's face, but he just hoped he could turn around whatever the problem was. Upon entering, though, he couldn't find anything truly the matter. Only one thing was seemingly wrong, and that was the fact that Millie wasn't in a dreadful mood. The damn portrait rider and his horse had made Keiran anxious for no reason, he deduced. Except, perhaps it wasn't for no reason. What at first seemed to be some kind of fluff - maybe a scarf or a new blanket - moved as Keiran approached, setting his cane against the table gently. The man blinked, and his feet stopped, hesitating for a moment as he discovered what the fluff was. He had opened his mouth to say something like, 'You'll never guess what happened today.' But now he couldn't find any real way to introduce his change. He was too confused and distracted.

Unfortunately for his wife, Keiran did not take the introduction of the pet as something positive. It didn't register that the dog was there to help her build a routine or to help her remember how to take on someone else and think about the animal's problems over those between Millie and her husband. Instead, it brought up two things simultaneously:

Firstly - Was this some hint that Millie wanted a family? Because Keiran was sure they weren't ready.

And secondly - Apparently he just wasn't good enough for her. Apparently Millie needed something else to direct her affection towards.

Keiran must have failed her more severely than he thought. And what horrible timing for Millie to decide he wasn't enough. Sure, Keiran understood what he had done wrong. But just when he wanted to fix it, she had given up. When he had been given a new ability to control his mood and to hopefully fix hers, she went for something else. And it just had to be the day that Keiran had made plans to spend his day - or, as long as his leg stayed sorted - for her. On her. Taking care of her and fixing her. But she had brought in this unintentionally offensive animal to take his place even before Keiran could try to find a place for himself.

When he finally found something to say, his words came out slowly, and his tone was defensive. "Millie...? Why is that on my couch?"

Keiran had once thought that he was meant to do something with his life, and that he had a purpose as so many people he knew obviously did. They might not have seen what their roles were yet, but Keiran had always been more observant - he had always looked for it in other people. But he couldn't ever see it in himself. Millie wanted a... a dog more than she wanted to try and get things right, to get things to work. Crossing his arms over his chest, Keiran shifted his weight and let his gaze jump around the room, feeling far more vulnerable than he should have for a man his age with a good job and a supposed marriage.

Without preamble, there was an immediate change in the atmosphere within the Hayes portion of the staff quarters. The cats, from on high at the top of the bookshelf nearest the kitchenette, watched with bemused expressions as the recent addition to their household bounce around the room, snuffling into different areas as he got used to his surroundings. He’d look and then once he had his fill of one area he would scoot back to his owner who, sat under the blankets on the sofa, was content to watch him in amongst paying attention to the day time television whirring past. A show about antiques came and went, followed by a chat show program. Bean soon got bored, especially after discovering the cats and ascertaining that they weren’t about to come down and play any time in the immediate future. So, the dog strayed back to Millie, hopping up onto the sofa and snuggling underneath the blankets with her, sitting his head on her belly.

There, the two laid mindlessly watching the television, Bean’s tail batting back and forth as he meandered between slumber and wakefulness. When the portrait door opened, however, he was immediately alert, scrabbling to his feet eagerly, using Millie as a vantage shelf, in order to get a look at who was entering. To his immediate dismay, it wasn’t the cats but what interested him secondarily was the man who walked in. Millie sat up, a smile stretching across her lips but it fell away as Keiran’s words emanated across the room. As though understanding, Bean hopped off of the sofa and landed in something of a heap before scrabbling to his feet to scamper over to Keiran. He yipped and then scurried away, diving under the end table by the sofa before hopping back up to sit next to Millie.

“Keiran,” she ventured carefully, rising from the sofa. “I have puppy context, I promise,” she said first. “Are you… how was your morning?”

Bean made his presence known, barking in his little puppy voice before hopping forward to lick at the hand Millie had down by her side. She turned and scooped him up, cuddling him to her chest with a smile. Her hands smoothed into his fur and she stepped around the blankets which had fallen onto the floor. She shot him an expression that implored for him to be a little bit open widened. She licked her lips and bounced a little on the balls of her feet, her eyebrows knitting together expressively.

“Please don’t be cross,” she begged. “I… I’m …” she swallowed and gathered her words properly. “It wasn’t my idea but I thought maybe I’d… it was the shrink! She said that it would … that it would help so …” Millie trailed off uselessly and set the dog down hesitantly, crossing her arms over her chest. She glanced up at him from underneath her eyelashes and managed a smile for him, albeit a sheepish one. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”

A weary expression made its way across Keiran's features as the dog jumped about. He even went so far as to step away when the animal approached, shooting Millie an unimpressed look when she asked how his day had been thus far. He lifted a sardonic eyebrow, wondering just how long it would take her to realize the change. He wasn't sure he would be patient enough to give her the time to sort it out for herself.

"My morning was good," he replied slowly, the words meant to chide, if only subtly. It hit him too late that she seemed scared of him somehow, despite the smile that she attempted. His breath held for a moment as he tried to decide if she had been doing that for very long - or if her apparent fear was new.

Dropping his arms to his sides, Keiran let the breath free with a troubled sigh. Glancing about, he found the cats who seemed equally unamused with the situation, and felt a strange hit of solidarity. The puppy was wiggling a bit as she held him, but Keiran found it odd that the animal should be so seemingly at ease so quickly. He must have been in their rooms for a good while, then. While Keiran was being chided about a drug addiction he still didn't want to admit, and finally taking a step in the right direction. Or, at least, what he had assumed was the right direction - towards Millie.

"I'm..." Keiran hesitated, considering his words briefly before just letting them go. "I'm disappointed. Angry, yes - but mostly just disappointed. I was going to-... That is, I had news but it doesn't matter now. Not as much as I thought it did, anyway." He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, forcing the aggression he felt to simmer under the surface as he put on an air of simply not caring. It was a terrible idea, almost definitely, but Keiran wasn't entirely sure what else to do. So he covered it as best as he could.

As he turned to walk into the bedroom to put on a new, more comfortable shirt, Keiran tossed a comment over his shoulder at her. "I didn't realize you had been seeing a psychologist. I guess there's a lot that I don't know about you beside what happened in the last year."

He had tacked on the second sentence as an unnecessary jab, and even while he knew it was harsh, the statement was true. That wasn't to say he wasn't hiding things as well, obviously, because there were many things that Millie didn't know about. But rather than really think about it or wait for a reaction, he passed through into the bathroom, adding another wall between them to make a second barrier. It would be up to her to figure it out, Keiran decided. He just didn't have it in him to try and explain when he was so irritated and so strangely tired. What he wanted, oddly enough, was to go for a walk. He wasn't supposed to, probably, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than sitting around and waiting for Millie to realize that he could, in fact, walk without help.

Don't listen to quacks, her grandfather use to say, they only make things worse.

Experience had shown quite the opposite to the woman left standing awkwardly on the rug, a dog meandering around her feet for attention. She reflected that when she had been in hospital that first time, the healers had been slightly antsy but no less helpful. Even before that, when she'd broken her collarbone they'd been amazing. During appointments for the twins, they'd always had options, tips, and ideas. This hadn't been any different. The dog- Bean, he'd been a good idea. Yet, his introduction had immediately made things worse and as Millie sank back down onto the couch, her hands reaching up to cup at her face sorrowfully, she wondered if there was any merit in giving him to Baldric or someone. But how irresponsible was that? No, she did need this. Jabs done and sorted, mischief rife within him, he was the sort of thing that would drag her sorry bum outside without any sensitivity. He'd force her out of herself. On her own she had no idea how to do that. Even with Keiran there, she had no idea how to talk to him so how could anything improve? The brash, confident animal would have to do it.

But Bean wasn't going to be building any bridges between them as a couple. He might stand to do well against his mistress' aversion to doing anything aside from perhaps hiding and drinking but it was a completely different kettle of fish with the couple who were falling apart at the seams. They lived together. That was about it. Millie was aware enough of the tensions to start to wonder if after too long they wouldn't even have that going for them. It seemed though, that the puppy was determined to try.

"No, Bean - leave him be!" She pleaded, darting off after him as he scampered on his little legs into the bathroom.

The woman caught herself on the threshold, the complete and sudden stop roughly jarring her shoulder. She winced, a hiss slipping from between her lips in reaction to it, but she pushed away the pain, reopening her eyes resolutely because she knew too well that there were more important things at hand than her own misery. It occurred to her then, while lifting her gaze from the dog to sweep her eyes up Keiran’s form that something was missing. Something was different – and yes, missing. The cane.

“Did someone do something?” She asked sheepishly, watching Bean out of the corner of her eye as he got up, acting as though to inspect Keiran’s leg. It had been an error to buy the dog from the Magical Menagerie. It was a rookie mistake. The cats were grossly abnormal. It made sense, of course, that the dog would be similar. She conceded in her head that running it by Keiran first would have been more of an idea and certainly a better plan but she knew she couldn’t take Bean back. She wouldn’t, either. That wasn’t fair.

Guilt slipped into Millie’s expression as she examined Keiran’s, the hard lines in his face bearing all of the irritation, hurt and disappointment that he’d promised. Millie sighed and folded her arms carefully over her middle, wishing that her opening gambit with regards to noticing had been a little smoother. She had no choice, now that she had opened that can of worms, to press on.

“You don’t … you don’t need the cane,” she added wistfully, the words falling from her mouth and sounding to her ear lame and insincere. She shook her head and directed her eyes back to him firmly. “That is important.” She pointed out softly. “You are important, Keiran. What happens to you is important. This is fantastic news but suddenly because of what I’ve done it’s lesser? I don’t understand. What I’m doing really doesn’t-” she bit down on her lip, shutting herself up, and she sighed, rubbing her hand across her forehead before lifting her fingers through her hair.

“What do you want from me, Keiran?” She asked in quiet exasperation. “You’re an idiot if you think I don’t care about you, you know. If you really, honestly think that me buying a dog trumps what’s happened to you today then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I know it’s not normal. That this between us isn’t fixed or right and is falling apart but I love you, I do.” She sucked in a breath. “Not that I’ve given you much evidence of it.” She admitted. “Is that it, then?” She asked shakily. “Have I got it? Is this why you’re pissed?”

“Because you know what,” she stressed, throwing up her hands. “I can’t do this. I don’t know how to deal with this. I am still waiting on the off chance that this is just a brutal nightmare. I know that this is my fault. Don’t you think I wonder every day what would have happened if I had been there on the train with you? Don’t you think I want to take back the school so you wouldn’t feel so frustrated about the leg? It’s irrelevant now but don’t you think I would move this planet if I could make this better? The thing is, I don’t know how to. I don’t know how. I never got a step-to guide. They don’t dole them out in the hospital!”

“I am so sick to death of being the bad guy,” she exclaimed. “To clarify, there isn’t one, I’m not accusing you. But I have been finished right off by everyone thinking, especially you, that I can deal with this. I could do the injury. That was fine. That didn’t matter. As much as it upset you, it didn’t change who you were. This is so radically different I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know how to tell you the half of it. I don’t know how to speak to you even about the good things because I am terrified I’ll take a wrong step and it will all blow up in my face. I want to explain to you everything but I don’t know how so instead I look like a twat because I’m treading eggshells and I become the obstacle. Don’t you think I know that this … this is… that I’m not someone worth being in love with?” She gestured to herself desperately.

“I bought a dog. One dog. It’s so I can go outside again, on my own. So I can go into the grounds without seeing that night over and over again in my head – so I don’t see those dead children and you and the wolves. So I’m not scared. I wouldn’t have bothered. I would have dealt with it on my own but I couldn’t so I had to go and ask for help and I didn’t know how to go to you because you had your own problems. Mine … I didn’t think it mattered so I let it go and it didn’t go away so I became the bad guy. I was unhappy and frustrated so I couldn’t help you. There we go. Are we there? Have I got you up to speed? I don’t think I know how to make you happy anymore. I don’t know what you want. So I’m terrified of upsetting you because that’s all I seem to do, okay? So I am sorry I got a dog. I am sorry I didn’t see immediately without you even telling me that you are walking well again. I am so happy for you. God knows I am over the moon for you. I just wanted… I wanted to fix me because I …” she took a breath. “Because I love you, Keiran, and I know I’ve failed you but I didn’t know how to fix it and I knew I was … so I wanted…”

She shook her head and turned away, snapping her fingers at Bean for him to follow her. He got up without protest and Millie stepped out back into the living room, towards the kitchenette where she flicked on the kettle after filling it clumsily with water. Lucius stepped down off of the fridge onto the counter and meowed at her, prompting Millie to raise a hand and rub her fingers through his coat. She inhaled a shaky breath and shook her head before reaching forward to grab to cups off of the hook. Bean stood up, his front feet braced against the cabinet, to look at the cat and Lucius glared down at him, cowing the puppy who slunk back behind Millie’s legs.

“Don’t be awful to him,” Millie scolded the cat. “He’s trying to be friendly. You should make an effort, too.”

Lucius merely stared at her in disbelief, offended at the suggestion. Narcissa hopped down to stand next to her husband cat and Millie sighed, dropping spoonfuls of instant coffee into the cups. At least one individual, ironically the one causing all of the grief today, still liked her. One out of four wasn’t bad.

"I remember, you know."

Keiran had let her give her speech, doing his best not to feel guilty for his reaction but failing a bit. He had just changed and then stood there, hands braced against the counter in their bathroom as she kept on. It had taken him a moment after she left, but he had moved to lean on the doorway into the kitchen, arms crossed in a less aggressive stance than before. Instead it was one of a man resigned to what he had to do.

"I remember... a lot more than I've let on." He finished after a moment. He sighed and dropped his gaze to the dog before continuing. "But things are... missing, and it's driving me mad. I think I might need the shrink more than you do at this point," Keiran attempted a joke, glancing up at Millie for a moment before resuming his gazing at the floor blankly.

"Holland - the, um, the new Assistant at St. Mungo's - and Khaat, they've said the bad things take longer sometimes, because I'll have tucked them away. The bad things and the things that scared me. But whatever's trapped in here," Keiran gestured to his temple vaguely, "it's like I can feel it. And it's not a good excuse, but it certainly explains why I've been away so much.

"See, I've been at St. Mungo's... several times a week. I'm fairly astounded you didn't notice what I had gotten into, considering you claim some sort of attentiveness - enough to know when I'll react badly - and think that you hold that affection for me. It's... entirely possible that Khaat came in today - when she doesn't normally - as an intervention of sorts." He adjusted his arms a bit, closing himself off more through a tighter clutching of his opposite arms.

"Even if I wanted you to think we could work..." Keiran sighed heavily, pushing off the door frame to stand on his own. "I'm not saying we can't, exactly, because I can remember that we did. But we're not the same anymore. You apparently won't tell me anything, so I can't ask what it is that I've yet to remember. And in some attempt at keeping my ground and keeping the status quo, I didn't say anything about my problem. I wanted to let you figure it out, or just... Maybe I didn't want you to know. Either way, Khaat wouldn't have started working on taking the curse out of me were it not for the fact that my frequent trips away are all to pick up more pain potion."

His eyes searched out Millie's, his expression almost bland, as if hoping she would just sort it out in her head for him. He wasn't sure he could actually say it, considering he hadn't wanted to admit it earlier, either. Eventually, he moved across the room to sit at the kitchen table, setting his elbows on his knees and dropping his forehead into his palms.

"This was supposed to change things - taking the pain away. It was. I was supposed to ignore the healers and come home, pick you up and spin you around like an idiot. And then it was going to be a Millie day until the pain returned. I knew that it would just be worse than before, or feel that way, but... I just didn't care, because I was determined to try, and determined to finally get something out of you." Keiran looked up at her, only vaguely aware of the fact that he probably appeared a bit chagrined at admitting it all. "But you had to go out and get that dog, and it made me pause, I guess. I don't care if you keep it, Millie. Just don't expect me to be taking care of it. I'm more of a cat person, if you hadn't deduced as much. But regardless, in reply to your comment earlier: You're wrong. The dog does in fact put a damper on things. If you'd waited just... just a day, I could've given it a go.

"As it is, though, I'd wanted to focus on taking care of you - for once - instead of waiting and wondering when the pain will come back." Pushing off from his chair, Keiran stuck his hands in his pockets as he was becoming more and more likely to do. "It really isn't important, though, that it happens today. Khaat's help can only last so long, and I've wasted much of it. But there will be another time, if she agrees to keep it up." He looked up at Millie then, remembering her reaction when her arm twinged and frowning slightly. "Funny," he continued sarcastically, "I was of the impression that your shoulder was actually rather okay. Maybe you should see Khaat, too."

The spoon in her hand clattered on the countertop, sending the cat springing back up onto the fridge. Millie turned, her hands coming down to grip at the surface. She turned a little, her head twisting around so she could see him properly, and she watched him with an expression mired in both fear and dismay. She moved around, one hand staying close to the counter while she squared her body towards Keiran’s, her brows knitting together expressively. His words washed over her like icy water, threatening to swallow her whole. With every word, her guilt deepened. Her eyes flickered shut and she reached up to grasp at the back of her neck in thought. Admitting to not noticing was easier, she knew, than explaining where she went during those hours. But she had. She had known She knew she knew. But the extent to which it had been going on – she hadn’t realised how much she’d blocked out.

The kettle boiled in amongst his words and Millie reached forward, curling her fingers around the handle. She lifted the kettle up off of the hook and poured some of the water into each cup before setting the kettle back on the hook. She picked up the spoon and stirred the coffee together before tossing it into the thin layer of water at the bottom of the sink. It bounced off of the base and broke the water top once more before sliding back down into the bubbles. She frowned a little bit as she measured his expression and the words that rumbled through the air. She sighed and dropped her hand from her neck, tucking it instead into her capris pocket. She shook herself a little and gradually found her words, a reply – one that had come long overdue.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. “Keiran I…” she inhaled deeply through her nose and picked up the coffees, holding out one for him as a peace offering. “I made it the way you like,” she promised, a smile twitching at the sides of her mouth. “Can we…” she sighed gently and rubbed at her shoulder. “I have my own Lupin to worry after me,” she admitted as a side-point before deciding to go back to her original point. “Can we please sit and … and work it out, please?” She asked. “I want… I want to talk to you I just…” she looked down at her coffee again. “I don’t know where to start so I …” she took a breath. “I want to try if you … if you’re not too angry with me to not … to not want to. I mean, we don’t have to now.”

Millie shuffled her feet awkwardly and looked up again before taking a few steps forward. She lifted her head again and addressed him with an imploring stare. Deciding to try and make herself look as though she wanted to talk, though fear ripped within her, she stepped forward, passing by him with a small smile before making her way over to the sofa. She set her coffee down on the table in between the sofa and the armchairs and knelt down to pick up the blanket before sitting down. Bean hurried up after her but she looked at him pointedly which sent the dog back down onto the rug, though he wiggled underneath her leg where she’d let it drape down towards the floor. He licked her heel and settled, looking up at Keiran hesitantly, as though waiting to find out whether he could get back on the sofa or not.

“Kieran I… I shouldn’t have treated you like this,” she took another unsteady breath and closed her eyes briefly before fixing her gaze hesitantly upon him. “I think I knew… I should have. It’s not something so unfamiliar to me I guess I just…” she folded her arms in around her middle and she rested her head against the sofa cushion. “I’m sorry I got the dog,” she expressed, her foot unconsciously dipping down to press against Bean’s back. “But I… I wanted… I just wanted so badly to be okay that I didn’t think. And you… you do too, I guess.” She smiled a little again and brought both of her knees up, wrapping her arms loosely around her legs. “I really want… I want us to figure this out. My best attempt was … poor. And I’m sorry I undermined you. I didn’t … it was really the last thing I wanted I just want for us to be us again and I don’t know how so I’m lost...”

Millie nibbled on her lower lip and reached out with her right hand, holding it out between them for his, hoping against hope that he’d take it. She stifled any tears that were threatening and she rubbed at her eyes with the cuff of the sleeve of her left hand. Swallowing resolutely, Millie tried to find a little bit more composure, knowing that it was unseemly to just cry at him which she so sorely wanted to do. Yet, she had so much to say. She felt as though if she didn’t, nothing would ever, ever be resolved.

“You need to … you need to not think that you’ve failed,” she uttered gradually, draping her arm back around her legs. “Because everything that’s happened – it’s not on you. It’s just life. H-how …” she knitted her brows together thoughtfully. “How reliant are you on those potions?” She asked. “Because I… I can help. I mean, I’m not unaware of how that feels. I’ve … well, lived it so… I can help.” Millie swallowed. “I want to help you remember things. I’ve not been helpful in anyway shape or form but I want to start. I really… I want to fix us. I don’t know how many times I’m going to say it,” she laughed awkwardly. “But we’ve not been right for … for a long time, Keiran and I… I … I didn’t … I didn’t resolve any of it … I just let it … sort of … hang in the air,” she inhaled deeply. “And now it’s … awful. So can we… could we maybe start over if nothing else? Maybe … maybe let me explain a bit better and … let you ask questions I’ll … I’ll answer you properly, too.” She nodded firmly, opening up her eyes wide to look at him. “Would that … would that be okay?”

"Millie, I don't want you to talk about this like you have no power here," Keiran frowned, trying to analyze her stuttering and failing to find the words she wanted. "You need to realize that no one holds the power except you, in this. You're the one who knows everything that happened, and it's well within your ability to keep things quiet if they make you uncomfortable. It's just... if you do, I can just tell. Because there's a hole and I can feel it nagging at me. Several holes, really. But I would be able to deal with the nagging if I just... if I had you, truly."

Taking a drink from the cup she had handed him, Keiran followed her over to the couch, actively considering his leg, waiting for the ache to return. He didn't want to be some Bernbach-era man who feigned affection but then retaliated far too strongly. But he was rapidly appearing more and more like one as their days passed, and even though he could see himself as one, he hated it. Millie didn't deserve it, regardless of any mistakes made. Keiran had sworn vows to her, and nothing should have negated those, frustrated though he might have been.

He accepted the hand she extended towards him, but Keiran remained standing even as he set his hand in hers. Instead, he set his cup down on the table and turned to face her as she continued. Reaching his free hand down, Keiran scooped up the dog, peering at him almost curiously. The fluff squirmed a bit, pawing at Keiran's chest as the man lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs and setting the dog in his lap. He offered it a fairly bemused expression but turned to look at Millie, trying to make a show of being cooperative.

Running his thumb over the back of her hand, Keiran tried to ignore the puppy's continuing to paw at him. Releasing a little sigh, he rested his cheek against the seat, next to Millie's feet where she'd pulled them up. "Missie... I need for you to lay down the things you haven't. I know I'm no help, since I can't tell you what or who is hiding. I also know how difficult it will be to do so. But I hate the fact that you seem to hide away, lately. You curl up like this, making it quite plain that you're... scared. And it really seems like the thing you're afraid of is me.

"So," Keiran cleared his throat almost inaudibly, steeling himself a bit. "I can swear to you, love: I will not be angry with you, if you just put it all out in front of me. I clearly need to know, because the things I can't remember... they're not all bad." His expression changed to one of apprehension before he admitted, "I don't know if it came along with something emotionally trying, but... Millie, I can't even remember the first time I said I loved you. I know I must have. I'm sure of it, because the feeling is there. But I need everything back to the way it was if I want to... if I want to stop questioning myself."

The newest addition to their house had settled down to some extent, and Keiran noted in the back of his mind that his black pants would be covered in golden fur, but it was strange, the image that they made. Even with the cats off to wherever they'd gotten, there was a rather curious sort of connection that hadn't been there before - at least, for him there was. "C'mon," Keiran requested, lifting his head to look at her properly. "Why don't you relax, hmm? I'll stay here, considering I don't think he wants to move," he gestured to the pile of fur in his lap. "And you can just lay down, or whatever you want, and we can chat. Just like you asked. Okay?"

“The thing is,” Millie whispered, turning her fingers around in Keiran’s. “I just want to protect you. I don’t want to hurt you. A-and … and I know it’s doing more harm than good but I just wanted to try and keep you from being in pain because everything that’s happened … it’s not all been good and I wanted to try and filter as much as possible in order for you to just be happy I didn’t … I didn’t want you to be sad. That’s all I wanted to do. I didn’t realise that it was doing the opposite. I wanted to protect you, Keiran.” She took a shaky breath, blinking up at him. “Because so much has been rubbish – I didn’t want you to have to do it again.”

The blonde woman’s eyebrows knitted together curiously, her mouth opening to protest, as Keiran picked up the dog. She blinked, wanting to articulate that he didn’t have to like Bean but it seemed as though her husband was trying, evidenced by the way he sat himself down on the floor, without obvious pain, with the dog being allowed to find a place in his lap. She smiled from behind the fist up around her mouth and dropped her hand down away from her face, trying to inspect Bean as he sniffed at Keiran and tried to work out whether or not he was going to be friend or foe to his master or not.

Millie glanced at the dog, then at Keiran more fixedly before resisting the urge to actually vocalise her concern between cat-man and Bean. The cats, speaking of, were sat back up on top of the cushions on the bookshelves and were openly glaring down over the room. Millie chuckled a little bit at them and turned over onto her belly, drawing down a pillow underneath her chin. She cuddled it with one arm, her other hand keeping hold of her husband’s and she tried to measure what she was going to say. She was content to talk but the problem was she didn’t know how to phrase the half of it. Any of it, in fact.

“I’m not scared of you,” she started, picking at a loose piece of thread at the seam of the cushion. “I’m scared of making you unhappy. I’m scared you’ll go, actually, because I’ve been no good. I’ve given you no real reason to stay with me. And I’ve done some bad things because I thought … the thing is,” she sighed, half frustrated with herself, and reached out for her coffee, plucking it off of the table. “I am so scared of us ending up like my parents. We’re different but I … I hate the arguments and I … I don’t want to become the way she did … neither of them was happy and they hated each other. My dad couldn’t remember why he’d even bothered to marry her in the first place. He couldn’t remember ever loving her. I am … I don’t want that. I guess that’s what I’m afraid of. But then… I don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to. I don’t want us to become twisted like that.”

She inhaled deeply, seeking to elaborate somewhat. “My parents were not happy so I was never happy. I loved my dad so much and I really, really hate my mother. And that’s mad because I love yours so much but they are so different … your mum is a mother and mine is not anything really.” She closed her eyes, frowning a little. “I ran away when I was fourteen,” she explained, continuing to pick at the thread. “And I don’t want to do that to ...” she licked her lips thoughtfully, finding that she’d come round to the inevitable.

“When you told me you loved me …” she began, a smile curling at her lips. “We were at yours. We’d gone to see your parents for Christmas and we were cold and it was late and we decided to have a bath. And all the bubbles were going everywhere and we were laughing and happy and it was warm … and I was laid back against your chest and we were snuggled in and it … I think we were happiest there, in those moments. And I was talking about how much I love the house and how I couldn’t believe you’d been a little one there and I wanted to see pictures, too, because I couldn’t imagine you any other way than you are now.”

She laughed a little, skirting her finger around the rim of the cup. Licking her lips again thoughtfully before bringing the cup to her mouth. She knew she couldn’t avoid it now. She hadn’t any choice. She wanted so badly to avoid it because it inevitably meant that everything else would come spilling out but there was a reason he’d said it. She’d known even then. There was something which had provoked it.

“There was another time. The proper time, I think. That was bad. I don’t want to do that story just yet if that’s alright. But this time. This first time. The way you said it … it was because of something you’d noticed – something you’d noticed about me.” She peeked at him hesitantly, her lips screwing down into a strained frown. “Please promise … please promise you won’t freak out, love. The thing that made you say it, I think. I mean, you did feel it. Do. I hope. But um. What provoked it was…. I dunno. For some reason,” she found herself smiling a little. “For some reason you could tell. Like it was a sixth sense or something. At the time. I was pregnant, Keiran.” She sucked in a breath, nibbling furtively on her lower lip. “I was about two or three months along, sort of in the middle of the two, and I was beginning to show just a little and it was obvious because there wasn’t much of me, less than now and we … we were having twins, too.” She looked at him again, hesitantly. “We had twins.”

Millie released his hand and got up. She leant over to put down the coffee and then moved off towards the bookshelves where she reached for the albums. One in particular which she had vanished from view when it had first happened. It was a pretty, pale blue with large pink and white dots on the front. She’d picked it out and had covered it with wrapping paper, the cover originally having been a mottled brown. Yet, she’d loved the ring binder and the way it had a piece of ribbon as a bookmark. But from the word go they’d been adding pictures so the twins would always have that trail of their early days. It was spectacularly full, coming from Millie’s eagerness with the camera. But the one she was looking for she found immediately, putting her hand to it without thinking.

They were barely a few hours old, as Keiran’s script underneath annotated. But it was a picture of the new parents, cradling a baby each. Neither of the children were washed, though across the page there were plenty of photographs of the two trying to wash the babies without disturbing them too much if Keiran wanted to see them. But in that first picture, they were wrapped up in these pretty, white blankets and cradled tightly in their parents’ embraces. She and Keiran were sat together, their foreheads pressed close as they inspected their bundles, pride and fatigue shining pink in their cheeks. Their smiles were breathless and wider than their faces seemed to allow for. Yet, they were happy. So, so happy.

She paused a little, lingering still by the bookshelves. She turned gradually and made her way back over to Keiran, coming to sit back down, although not on the sofa itself but on the floor across from him, much to the delight of Bean. She reached out a hand to pet the dog and with the other turned around the book so it was sat in her lap but the right way up for Keiran to see. She tapped on the picture she wanted to show him and smiled fondly, reaching out for his hand again. She took his fingers in hers and squeezed, an apologetic look shining briefly in her eyes.

“It must feel like it’s not your life.” She whispered regretfully. “But this is what I didn’t want to force on you … at the same time, though, it’s what’s been driving me mad. The thing was … I didn’t… things…” Millie growled a little and rubbed her hand over her face, the frustration with herself shining through. “I knew that you didn’t feel the way you did about me or about anything when this first happened so the last thing I wanted to do … I mean, it’s bad enough to present you with me and be like ‘oh, we’re in love’ blah-blah-blah but what I didn’t want to do was crowd you with them, either. What I didn’t figure for was how I revolved my life around them and I can’t … I can’t function without them,” she bit her lip. “And I’m not … I’m not asking you to step up unless you want to.” She took a breath. “But would you maybe want to re-meet them? They’ve always been crazy about you.” She smiled again.

“But the thing … the thing is that… it’s not … it’s not all happy thereafter. I don’t know … I don’t know if I want to go there yet if … I mean, if you think you want to know now I can but it’s not … it’s not all flowers and sunshine and I really wish it was but it’s not and it got hard and unpleasant and I wasn’t good about any of it and I …” she rubbed at her neck again. “But, um. Would you like to meet them again?” She nibbled on her lower lip. “They’re at yours, actually. As soon as it happened I … I didn’t know where else but your parents’ … your mum has been so helpful too and,” she took a breath and trailed off, smiling optimistically at him. “It’s up to you.” She offered. “I’m just … I’m sorry I dropped this on you but you said and … I … are you okay?”

Millie kept using the past tense during her explanation, and all Keiran could focus on was that. Sure, he was listening, but every word she said made it sound like something had gone wrong but she had accepted it. Except, he couldn’t think of a single would-be mother who could truly get over the loss of a child – twins, nonetheless – in less than a year. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he would have been past it. Some part of him should have been aching from it, he decided, and he felt all the more guilty for it. But then she edited her own words, and he let out a breath mostly out of surprise.

In truth, Keiran had expected her telling him about these things to bring back memories instantly, as some things had done in the past. But he just couldn’t find it yet. The only thing that came to mind, really, as she moved to the bookshelf, was, “Well… I don’t think it was because I figured it out. I mean, that might have been a… a trigger for it, but I do remember some things from around that time and it’s like you said. We were just happy. It made sense.”

Now, as calm as his words might have sounded to Millie, Keiran was doing his damnedest to bring up any memories he could. It gave him a bit of a headache, as ever, but this wasn’t something he was willing to hold off on and just hope it returned. This was far more important than what he got Robin and Avery for their wedding (that, by the way, was still bizarre to the professor, though he had kept his opinions to himself).  When he looked up, the first thing he caught sight of was the picture. But almost at the same time, it registered that Millie was on the floor with him, looking almost sad as she tried to explain. And, as crazy as it sounds, Keiran managed to take in everything she said even as a part of his stomach rolled over with anger.

Yes. Unfortunately, the floodgates had opened briefly, sending in the Grievers instead of the good times, and part of him was transferred to a kitchen floor, when things had gone so terribly awry it shouldn’t have been even plausible. The anger, of course, ebbed as she spoke and as he remembered the fight at their house as well. He had promised not to bring it up again, Keiran mused, though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not. It felt better to assume that, though, so instead he tried to clarify her words in his mind and push away the idea that, had he not done or said anything, they might have gone down that path all over again.

A momentary question of why she couldn’t manage without the twins when Keiran was right there flashed through his mind, but he wasn’t one to begrudge her what any mother would feel. The kids couldn’t be but a couple months old, and he had been the causation behind her being kept from her babies. His shoulders sank, his breath leaving him when Millie offered that he could avoid being part of their lives. Sure, it was qualified to some extent at the mention of their having a thing for him, but Keiran wouldn’t be the first to note that children would love anyone who showed them a bit of affection and seemed to mean it. He couldn’t remember actually doing that at all, so why should they? Of course she wouldn’t expect him to want to pop over and jump in. It made perfect sense.

Bean looked up at the change in his owner’s man, seemingly unimpressed with Keiran’s ability to self-deprecate several times in a matter of moments. “Trust me, Millie,” he began finally, having let her finish off her questions and things. “I’m… Well, I’m getting pieces here and there. None of them are good. I don’t… I’m not upset with you for what happened. Not by any means – I need to clarify that. I’m not at all. But… But I’m definitely not convinced that I ever did right by them – or, by extension, you. And I should have. I can’t- … That is, I don’t remember why, exactly, but I know I just wasn’t there. And now I’ve made us both leave them, and that’s not fair to anyone.

“So we have to go see them,” he declared, not at all okay with the idea that he had failed them and had no chance to make it right. “Bring them here if you want. If you think they would be happy or that I can – or, rather – we can handle it. I have a feeling I’ve got a lot to make up for.”