“I need a loan.”
It had been the first time Baldric had spoken to him since they’d all found out. It’d been a dismal Monday, after a weekend of sickness that was so unbefitting of the tall, broad, blonde Gryffindor that the younger Hayes matriarch had wanted to take him to St. Mungo’s. Baldric had come back late Saturday night, bearing the news that they had all been waiting for. Admitting it had stolen the air from Baldric’s chest, buckled his knees and he tumbled like a sack of bricks into the belated grasp of the Ivanov healer who caught him under his arms. They’d roused him with rum and chocolate wafers but when he finally came to, his eyes alighted on the imploring faces of the Hayes’, worried after him, and at that moment all of the guilt within him lurched up through his throat and out into the bucket that Millie hastily stuck under his chin.
He went to Keiran guilty, with his tail between his legs, after getting up, finally feeling more like himself. He was bundled up in a hoodie, his hands in the pocket in the front. He looked thin, hollowed out and miserable and as he sat down next to the elder man, pulling one of the twins onto his lap in a loose embrace, despite the smile he rose for the cooing infant he still looked desperately sad. The words came after a moment, a night of listless insomnia having given him a plentiful period of time in which to think and for all his upset he knew what he needed to do. Only, he, like his contemporary who had gone out to college that morning to submit some coursework, didn’t harbour much personal wealth of his own. But he knew no one with enough to pay a bail like this one. No one but Keiran – the man who had suffered, purportedly, at the hand of Baldric’s lover.
Inexplicably, the money had been granted. Too grateful to question it, Baldric scuttled out of the house as soon as Millie came home, confusion alighting on her features as he bustled out. It was to the Ministry that he departed. He filed his request for passage to Azkaban at the soonest juncture. They intended to make him wait, however. Posting bail was the last thing they wanted to do, of course. That had been enough to make Baldric explode. Having reduced the snooty secretary to tears and smashed all of the lamps in that corner of the Department of Law and Enforcement with his irate holler, he was taken off and given a better time slot. Wednesday. It was better than nothing. Better than the Saturday he’d been offered.
Until that point in time, Baldric was like a bear with a sore head and was avoided studiously by Millie who didn’t know whether to venture some sort of attempt at an olive branch or not. The only people he was calm with were the twins, much to their delight. Needless to say, the night before Baldric didn’t sleep. He got up early, too, and took the boat before the one that he was due to with a particularly grumpy Auror begrudged to have to attend. They arrived before the visitor’s centre had even opened – a grim shack in which Baldric refused what looked and smelt like reheated coffee. There wasn’t any more time to wait, thankfully.
A silvery lion padded up the halls in front of Baldric and the Auror, the latter’s herring swimming along beside the big cat. The Dementors fled, giving howls at the sight of the snarling beast that so reflected Baldric’s dismal mood. It batted its great paws at the coattails of the creatures and snapped at the herring that danced along with it. It would not settle, determined to clear everything in its path, until it reached the cell, casting bright light around and chasing away the shadows that encroached in the damp, unaccommodating quarters.
The lion jumped up at the cell, excitement changing its features entirely, and Baldric picked up his pace, coming up alongside it, reaching out to curl a hand around the bars. All of his anger dissipated in that moment. He forgave Ben for everything, even though he himself held a lot of guilt. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated – about it all. In fact, majorly irritated. Impossibly, also, he still felt ill.
The Auror took his time opening the cell door but when he did the lion bounded inside, brushing up around Ben with all of the fondness in the world, as though the lion was a mere cat and Ben his affectionate master. Baldric himself couldn’t find a smile. He stalked in, the lion leaping back, and pulled Ben roughly to him, wrapping his arms tightly around the elder of the two of them. He sighed, leaning his head against Ben’s and mustering a kiss for the brunette’s neck.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, bringing a hand up to rub briefly against the back of Ben’s neck. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
With that he laced one of their hands together and tugged Ben out of the cell, determined that he should never go back in there ever again no matter how angry Baldric was with him and no matter how resolved Ben was to do what he perceived was right. If it came up, Baldric was going to turn Ben into a strange version of Rapunzel. There was no way in the creation of cats that he was going to let the infuriating man run riot again for the sake of someone that had done such a good job of abandoning him, twice.
“Mr Wood,” the Auror held up his wand half threateningly and by his other side, the lion bit out a growl. “You still have to fill out the paperwork. If you’ll follow me.”
Baldric’s own wand twitched up and he twitched an eyebrow at the Auror, daring him to try and get Baldric to go anywhere. The Auror blanched, staring at the man wondering how the Gryffindor could have ever moved fast enough on a broomstick to be a decent Chaser when he was so clearly built to be a Beater. The Auror lowered his wand, much to his apparent dismay, and he straightened himself up.
“I’ll go and check on the boat, then.” He declared. “But you do need to sign him out.”
Baldric wasn’t going to make that mistake. Once the Auror went, disappearing down a side corridor, Baldric tugged on Ben’s hand and took him back down to the outgoings office where one of the staff cast and irate look at Baldric before retreating back into the office for his cup of tea, leaving the clipboard on the side. Baldric released Ben briefly and retrieved his bag, pulling out the clothes he’d brought with him. He didn’t want Ben in that god forsaken Azkaban uniform a minute longer.
“Put these on,” Baldric instructed, handing over a fresh everything – from woollen jumper to fluffy socks and a new pair of boxers. All of it had warming charms attached, Baldric having not believed for a second that they’d bother to make the cell habitable for him.
Then the younger wizard took up the clipboard and the pen, hastily scribbling out the details, intent on getting out of there. Ben had been locked up long enough. It was time to get him home.