A Parenthood Trial

Against perhaps what was his better sense, the nineteen-year-old Gryffindor had decided to take, for the evening and thankfully the evening only, the children of whom he felt were his best friends in order to ensure one could suitably romance the other. Good intentions or not, Baldric Wood (soon to be Pierson or Wood-Pierson or whatever it was) couldn’t help but feel terror pang through him as he stared at the gurgling pair as they bickered in their pigeon English over a toy that their mother had left them with after verbosely, anxiously announcing her exit.

It had been ten minutes and already, Baldric’s cushions, which, granted, hadn’t been in any order really but now were far from any semblance of one, were in a heap on the floor. Clucking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Baldric seriously began to rethink, firstly, his decision to help Keiran and, secondly, his own desire to have children. As he bent down to scrape the cushions up off of the floor, though, he caught a smile from over the top of his glasses, one that lit up the cherubim face of the eldest of the Hayes children and with a start to his heart, Baldric remembered why.

Lifting the cushions up onto the sofa again, Baldric took a moment to watch the children as they resumed their nonsensical chatter, trying out language on their tongues to see how it felt. He wondered whether or not Millie had already gone bananas over a purported word. He rationalised that she probably had. There was something particularly special about the little language that the twins had between themselves. He half-wished he could have been privy to it but no amount of insight to their words would make them any more transparent – especially given who their parents are.

“C’mere, you,” Baldric muttered, pulling Liam up into his loose embrace. Kelly, immediately seemingly sensing she was missing out on something, threw up her hands to him and Baldric responded in kind, lifting her up onto his hip before pressing a kiss to her temple. Baldric then slowly lowered himself onto the floor beside the fire which had exploded into life upon his entrance back into his rooms that afternoon. Now, the rooms were toasty and Baldric felt warm enough to take off his jumper and toss it onto one of the arm chairs before turning to focus on the twins who he’d set down on the rug.

In an effort to keep them occupied until Ben finished up at work, Baldric having been given them a little earlier than he’d imagined, the blonde man decided to set up some toys on the rug to play with. Bean, immediately sensing the change in the room, wound around the sofa and came to sniff at his young charges. The labradoodle was, in Baldric’s opinion, as stupid looking as ever but even he couldn’t deny that with the red bandana around his neck and the innocent, querying expression, he was quite cute. But still, he was a fool.

“Away,” Baldric commanded, snapping his fingers at the floorboards. “Off of the rug.”

Bean, much to Baldric’s surprise, actually relented and sat himself down, instead of on the floor, on the brick hearth in front of the fire, sufficing to watch the twins as Baldric began to interact with them, talking, cooing, and playing so as to keep them entertained. Even the dog seemed to be able to tell that there was hesitance there and that the professor was in need of some moral support. Nevertheless, the dog cared not a whit after that as, with the warmth of the fire about him, he committed himself to sleep.

Ben understood the fact that they needed to stay in Baldric's rooms, so the twins could be near to their parents and so their parents could be assured that they were safe. But Ben rather wanted to pull Baldric back to the flat. The two men had a job to do, however, so he dropped off his work things at the flat, scooped up Draco-cat, and made his way through the floo. Dusting soot off of his suit jacket as he landed, Ben was careful not to not to frighten whatever strange breed of dog was sitting along the base of the fireplace.

As he stepped down from the hearth, Ben's gaze fell to the twins first, his eyes seeking out the different things in the room. It wasn't the first time that day, but he found himself wondering why, exactly, he was somehow considered qualified to look after the two children he could have stolen a father from. Not by his own hand, mind. But it was essentially the same thing -  and Ben couldn't quite keep his gaze settled on the twins.

Instead, he sat down on the couch and leaned forward to rest his chin on Baldric's shoulder as he let Draco-cat start padding across the couch cushions. A sigh left him as he tilted his head against Baldric's, his eyelids falling to their close. "These kids don't realize," he began, opening them again so he could watch as the twins murmured to each other. "They have no idea that their father almost died. Twice."

Ben shook his head, throwing himself against the back of the couch. Draco-cat traipsed back to paw his way onto Ben's lap, clearly not noticing the frown his master gave at the realization that his trousers would have to be cleaned of cat fur before work when morning came around. One hand came up to trail down his face, not really expecting the exhaustion that hit him. They were only days into their engagement, and while Ben had yet to tell anyone for fear that it would be taken from him, he had thus far been more upbeat than usual.

"Tell me about your day. Or about the furball by the fireplace. Tell me something, Bae. Because I need you to remind me again that I didn't destroy everything. I wish I didn't, but I need it."

The sound of the floo which rumbled through Baldric’s rooms disturbed the dog though Bean did little more than shift after quirking half an eye open to check for danger. He seemed satisfied that Baldric was there to protect the children, though, so he easily settled back into his quiet slumber, lowering his head back down onto his paws. Baldric passed the labradoodle a half-smirk of frustration before looking up, feeling his heart rise in his chest at the sight of his lover. Baldric’s fingers stilled over the brightly coloured wiggly worm he was playing with Liam with and felt the smirk slide into a contented smile as he saw, first, Ben, and secondarily the cat who looked entirely content being carted about, although wouldn’t let it show for the sake of his pride. He seemed happy, though, to be around them – or perhaps Baldric was ready the cat wrong entirely. In truth, though, he didn’t care about the cat. He was far more interested in Ben.

Baldric leaned back into Ben and smiled, turning his head to press his lips softly to the elder man’s cheek. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his head linger against Ben’s, and a little wave of peace drifted over him. An indignant squeal broke at Baldric’s ear and he reopened his eyes, looking down at the child before him just as Liam shook his arms, thoroughly unimpressed by the lack of attention that was being fixed upon him. Baldric turned his head and quirked a blonde eyebrow at the boy before abandoning the wiggly worm. Lifting his hands beneath Liam’s arms, the babysitter heaved him up onto his knees and watched for a few moments as Liam looked down, seemingly trying to work out what he was supposed to do with his feet. A substantial amount of time passed – more so than Baldric had seen before – but soon enough Liam fell back down onto his bum, the blow softened by Bae’s grasp around him.

Kelly was still content underneath the mobile, wriggling her feet and her arms as she tried to bat at the spiders and the unicorns bobbing around before her. Bae bounced Liam idly on his knees and turned back to look at Ben before lifting Liam up to stand on his thigh, though still braced against the former-Chaser’s chest. A concerned look flicked over Baldric’s features and he took hold of Liam’s hand thoughtfully before glancing over to Kelly, wondering what would have happened if Keiran hadn’t made it that first time or if he hadn’t been there when the train had gone over. Baldric shook himself, unwilling to think about it. Liam reached for his glasses again, as though sensing that he needed to be rebuffed for his thoughts and immediately they were tossed across the room, a distant crack lifting into the air.

“You, sir,” Baldric shook his head as he caught Liam’s fingers between his lips, nibbling on them much to the delight of the boy, “are an absolute bum. Mmhmm. That’s what you are. You are your mother’s son with your father’s craftiness and you are dreadful to me. Yes, you are dreadful. Omnomnomnomnom.”

Taking hold of Liam’s hand again, Bae turned his attention back to Ben, leaning in once more to brush his nose against the elder’s cheek. He smiled popping a kiss to the soft, warm skin a little bit nipped with the winter’s chill but the reassurance of his being there and the smell of him did much to quieten the hammer of the Scotsman’s heart.

“That thing by the fireplace is not a dog,” he scoffed with a smile. “I used to have dogs. Two sheepdogs. When my dad bought a flock from a family who were moving on, back to Edinburgh, he took me to another farm and let me pick out the dogs. I got two because one wouldn’t leave the other – called them Spot and Stripe because I was six and didn’t get any creativity prizes. They used to sleep with me. Stripe preferred the end of the bed but Spot was all up for cuddles. It usually meant I got paws in my face. They were great dogs, though. Brilliant with the sheep and always used to listen. I don’t reckon that thing could herd leaves.”

Liam cooed again and Baldric brought his arms up, dangling the baby in the air above his head. Liam kicked his feet out happily and Baldric chuckled, bringing the boy down to press a kiss to his chubby cheek.

“You didn’t destroy anything,” Bae promised, holding the cuddly baby out to his fiancé. “They’re living proof of it. We are living proof of it. Here, have number one.”

Sliding forward, Baldric pulled Kelly up into his lap and popped his lips at her, rousing a laugh from her chest. He cuddled her up into his arms and smiled, nudging his nose against hers before looking towards his fiancé.

“I actually made it to breakfast this morning,” Baldric pointed out with a smile. “Only for it to all be pointless anyway. On the plus side, I got some marking done before I went and got these two. Millie – bloody hell – I told her. She knew she was meant to drop them off but she was chasing dust bunnies and forgot about it. So, I’ve been tortured since by tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, haven’t I?” He asked Kelly with a smile. “I’m trying to negotiate when to feed them … I have strawberry yoghurt, too, which I think might be yummy for them but I’m not sure. How was your day, love?”

His eyes following the movements of his man and their charges for the night, Ben let his fingers tickle across the top of Draco's head. One of the little blondes was throwing things while the other seemed far more calm, and Ben immediately decided he would probably like the second one better. He was about to point out that Baldric seemed to have a lot of experience with little ones, but he found himself caught up in the idea of a little Bae running about, chased by two puppies until they became dogs and started leading the way themselves.

When one of the babies was lifted towards him, Ben blinked down at the Gryffindor for a moment before reaching out slowly to take up the little blond. "Oh- ... Okay," he mumbled, furrowing his brow as he looked down at the boy. Supporting the little one's back with one hand, Ben lifted his other in a vague wave. It registered belatedly that he didn't actually know the name of either child, but Ben wasn't sure it was relevant yet.

So instead of asking, Ben listened to Baldric as he went on about the day. At least, he supposed, his lover had been granted a good day. It would be helpful when the older man found himself frustrated or confused as to what he was supposed to do for the twins. At least Bae would be in a good mood.

"It started out simply," Ben shrugged. "But then I found out I need to go to speak with a client in the U.S." A sigh left him as he shrugged. "If we want to build them back up, we have to see how bad it is. I'll be gone for at least a week, I'm afraid."

The little boy's hand took hold of Ben's tie, tugging as though he was frustrated with the lack of attention he was being given. Ben tilted his head to the side, looking down at the blond curiously before reaching a finger out to poke gently at the child's nose. Little eyes widened before a laugh broke free, surprising Ben into cracking a smile of his own.

"I don't think I would be this... unsettled if it was a different set of twins," he admitted after a moment, his fingers tickling at the boy's side. "Or, I don't think I would. I haven't been around babies since I was young, in the -" Ben faltered, glancing up at Baldric as he swallowed. "The orphanage."

Immediately, the thought crossed his mind that the two blondes in their arms might have ended up in a place like that, but he knew that wasn't true at all. They had places to go. They had people like Baldric. Like whoever in Keiran or Millie's family who would be the ones step up and fill that spot. But Ben had not been graced with someone like Baldric when he was a child. And there were children sitting in that orphanage, just as Ben had.

"You know what would be good?" he asked, turning the little one around on his lap so the baby was leaning back against his chest. "When I get back, we should... we should tell my folks. And I want to visit that orphanage. It was... well, a right terrible place. I need to know if it's any better, now."

It was all nonsense, really. Worrying about strawberry yoghurt and chasing dust bunnies while the cats snuffled about the rooms and the dog slumbered away in doggy dream land on the hearth. It felt all too domestic. Well, no. That wasn’t even really the problem. It felt right. That was the problem. It felt as though that was the way it was meant to be and it did give Baldric pause. For all of his desires to have children and a home and be a bastion of domesticity, faced with it in this moment he felt odd and almost cowardly. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was ready. He didn’t know if there was such a thing, though. God knew Killie hadn’t been and they’d done alright for it. Baldric took a little bit of solace in the fact that he didn’t have to worry. It would be a while yet – if at all.

Settling the anxious hammer of his heart, Baldric sat back against the pillows and grabbed for one of the blankets which he curled around Kelly who had dropped her head against his shoulder. He then furled his arms back around her and passed an absent-minded kiss to her forehead as he listened to Ben, a small frown appearing in his brows as it settled within him that he’d have to do without the elder man for seven whole days. Baldric felt an unsettled feeling slide into his stomach and he scowled into Kelly’s crown, wondering whether he could twist Theodore into letting him go so he could --- Baldric stared into the fire. What on earth was he thinking? When had he gotten this clingy?

Lifting his gaze from the flames, Baldric looked around and reached out for Ben, curling his fingers around the man’s bicep. He squeezed gently and leaned over, bracing Kelly against him as he popped a kiss to Ben’s shoulder. Baldric then sat back again, whispering an apology to the little girl as she whinnied at him in protest. He lifted up his legs and curled them behind himself, cradling Kelly carefully as she did so. He watched, half-listening, as her eyes began to grow heavy and her gaze narrowed to slits muffled by her long lashes. Then, gradually, she drifted away, her soft breath evening out as she slid into sleep.

“Nuh-night, Kell,” he whispered to her, pressing his lips back to her skin once more before looking over to Ben.

Tucking the blanket tighter around her, Baldric tipped his head back to the cushions and looked back at Ben. He smiled a little bit, a little bit of terror showing in his features at the idea of telling Ben’s parents. He knew – or hoped, rather – that there wouldn’t be any protest about it. It meant, though, that Baldric didn’t have much of an excuse anymore to not tell his parents. He didn’t want to. The idea of them saying anything – having any opinion at all – petrified him. Baldric would have rather he and Ben eloped.

“I hope it is,” Baldric replied earnestly. “I really, really hope it is.” He wasn’t sure what he was going to say if it wasn’t. He couldn’t bear the idea of it. The idea that children still grew up mired with unhappiness made the Gryffindor’s heart pang in his chest and he looked at Liam, he looked at Kelly, and his hold tightened reflexively on the latter, as though his embrace would protect her from it.

“They’re just handfuls, is all,” Baldric replied, returning to the twins. “Keiran and Millie aren’t angry with you. They never have been. Not really. Because you didn’t cause it. Any of it. It wasn’t on you. So these are just any other set of twins. Only, well. They’re loud and brash and lumps but they’re nice enough.” He chuckled as he looked at Liam who was continuing to inspect Ben’s tie.

“We should go,” Baldric agreed after a bit of thought. “I want to see, if you’d let me that is. Please don’t be gone forever, though. As much as I like you,” a grin slid onto Bae’s face, “I don’t know that I can understand those Yanks particularly well and they me, either, so I’m not moving there.” He laughed a bit and shook his head, unable to stop himself from smiling. Extending a foot, Baldric nudged Ben’s leg and gestured to the bedroom.

“Go get comfy,” he encouraged. “Then we can chuck some dinner together, can’t we? I’m sure Liam will help, won’t you mate?”

"I know that you want to believe they aren't angry, Baldric, and while I somehow can believe it of Keiran, his wife likely hasn't forgiven me. I'm not sure she liked me to begin with, honestly, though it's a bit of a shame I haven't actually met her. I doubt it helps that she doesn't have a face to put to the name. Or that she hasn't been able to get out any of her frustration regarding the whole attack."

Ben wasn't naive enough to think that she would be over it. Never would someone's family truly get over something like that. They thought he had betrayed Baldric and everyone the blond cared about. And without a chance to explain himself, it could not get any better. But he supposed it would be well enough until he actually had to meet her.

"I think," he began, a hand reached out to comb through Baldric's hair a few times, "that I would be a mess if you didn't come with me. I'll come back as soon as I can, love," Ben promised, his fingers brushing across his man's neck while he nodded once, firmly.

Ben conceded that he probably would be more comfortable if he changed, though he didn't say as much aloud. Instead, he held the boy - Liam - close as he pushed himself to standing, certain to keep from jostling the child too much. "Here, how about you figure where to put her while she snoozes, and Liam can crawl about the bed while I get sorted. Start figuring what you want to eat, yeah?"

So Ben and Liam went off to the bedroom, and the little boy did indeed get settled into the pillows before he tried to wiggle across the covers. A few minutes later, he had picked himself out some more casual clothes and changed into them. "All right, little man," Ben went on, extending his hands towards Liam a bit hesitantly. A pleasant expression warmed the cheeks of the boy, though, so Ben scooped him up gently and carried him along into the kitchen in search of Baldric.

A testy exhale of air parted Baldric’s lips and he sent a frustrated look in Ben’s direction, though it wasn’t really directed at him. “Millie is difficult to predict,” he conceded softly, unwilling to commit himself to the idea that his friend would be irrationally (well, it was rational he supposed) prejudiced towards Ben. “We should have dinner with them when you come home. Then she can put your name to your handsome face and forgive you instantly – not that I think either of the Hayes’ are still angry.” He pointed out, adding the last bit quickly. “If there is any doubt, she’ll see in a moment why I love you and why you never aimed for anything to happen the way it did. She’ll forgive you.”

“I can if you’d like,” he offered, his eyebrows lifting expressively. “If you want me to, I’d love to. I’m not sure what help I’d be,” he smiled shyly and inclined his head to press his lips to the elder man’s palm. "I want to see, though. I do. Whenever you're ready."

Nodding, Baldric wriggled a little until he was sat up properly. Kelly whined in his ear and he apologised quietly to her, pulling up the blanket again. He tucked it properly around her and got to his feet, wondering where the best place was to set her down in the quiet. He looked down at the little one and gave it a little bit of thought, half-considering the sofa before deciding it wasn’t comfortable enough for her. He picked up another blanket and a soft cushion and made his way into the kitchen. He took his wand off of the side and returned to the living room to take a few logs off of the hearth and as Ben left the bedroom, Baldric walked in to it.

The blonde man set up a fire inside and set Kelly carefully down in the middle of their bed on her belly, his wand between his teeth as he concentrated. She snuffled a little and turned her head briefly before settling into the soft bedspread. Baldric settled the blankets around her loosely and then took the pillows off, putting them down either side her so that if she turned she wouldn’t roll off of the bed. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her head before fiddling absently with the blankets again.

“Night-night, baby girl,” he whispered. “I’ll come and get you when you wake up, okay?”

Baldric moved back out into the living room then further into the kitchen, finding his lover and their little charge. Baldric came up behind Ben and wrapped his arms around his middle, pressing his face into Ben’s neck. He reached up and tickled his fingers under Liam’s chin, smiling at him.

“Can I have you for dinner?” He asked Ben cheekily. “Or, rather … fish cakes? May-” Baldric unwound his arms from Ben as a cough rumbled up from his chest and he brought his hand to his mouth as he struggled to get the niggle out of his throat. Baldric wiped his jumper cuff under his eyes and shook himself when it abated.

“Bleargh,” he grumbled, reaching to open the cupboard to get a glass out. He poured some water into the glass and shook himself before drinking deeply from the glass. He felt a little bit better for it but still hollow, as though something had been taken out of him. “Sorry,” he uttered, sobering up. “Um, what do you want to eat, love?” He put down the glass. “I can try and get something going.”

After a whole bottle of cough syrup, Baldric thought grimly.

"Just being there is enough, I promise you," Ben assured him, his lips tugging up into a smile. And it was ridiculously true, if the older man thought very hard about it. He wasn't sure that he would even make it over the threshold if Baldric wasn't there to coo at the children like it wasn't a big deal.

Something in his chest warmed when Baldric returned, pressing warmth into him and around his stomach. He was turning to say that, were it not for the little boy in his arms, Baldric could have him for dinner and dessert. But that never came out, because his Gryffindor pulled away and coughed, looking a bit put out about it. Ben's eyebrows pulled together, watching the blond as he went over to pour himself a drink.

His eyes fell to Liam, wondering briefly if the babies should be around while Baldric was seemingly unwell. Ben didn't say anything about it, though, given that Baldric tried to go back to normal. Instead, he made a mental note to pay attention to Baldric, more so than usual. So when Baldric asked what Ben wanted, he just shrugged and said what he always did:

"I don't know. Pasta?"

---

Six days later, Ben was sitting in an office in Chicago, wishing he didn't have two more days before he could go home and see his man again. He had convinced Derek to let him go home earlier than the others, given that his letters to Baldric hadn't been replied to in the past couple days, and he was getting nervous. Had he done or said the wrong thing in his messages? It wasn't like Baldric didn't know how to use the computer that Ben had set him up with.

He had decided to try sending a final, apologetic and disappointed email, which would be the very thing Keiran found that night while trying to determine where on earth the dark-haired man had gotten off to. He had gone over to thank Baldric again for his and Ben's help in keeping the twins while he went out with Millie, but everything had gone downhill very rapidly, although Ben couldn't have known about it while writing his email. It would be nearly four in the morning, Ben's time, when he got the call.

Baldric,

I understand that it's been a little while, and that I have to stay an extra day, but I don't see what I've done to make you so angry. You wouldn't be ignoring me if you weren't angry. I'm leaving Chicago in two days, but I really need to know if we're okay. I know I complained about the long distance charges and all, but I would much rather you call me if you need to. Okay? I left the number in your desk drawer, if you forgot, so call sometime, and I'll answer even if it's late.

Take care of Draco-cat and take care of yourself. And, whatever it is I've done, please forgive me for it. I love you with everything in me, don't forget that, Bae.

It always started as nothing, that’s what Alicia used to say – or, rather, did say. She had levelled the grisly details upon the eight year old boy in desperation, because there was no one in the world left to talk to as her face grew ashen and her hair burned to dull, silver strands. It started off as a niggle, a cold, maybe some flu. Then it only got worse. The tremors returned secondarily, until nothing could be held without quivering fingertips letting it slide from betwixt their grasp. Even his wand clattered to the floor – the most natural thing in the world for him to hold, he could no longer covet. Then, the pain returned. He’d never experienced it. He’d watched her live it. He’d never felt it. In the evenings, he did. It rumbled up his spine and cracked like lightning across his shoulders before sliding down his arms like ice, searing at every nerve. Then blood. Blood. So much blood. She’d laughed then, finding own little droplets of it on her fingers as she’d taken her hand from her mouth. It was as though it needed to escape. Boil, then escape, hot into the atmosphere, until there was none left to keep the bullet train heart hammering through him. Until there was nothing left to do but to die, gradually.

He’d been like that when Keiran had come. One cough hadn’t let go of him and his chest had heaved until the towel he’d grabbed feverishly from the bathroom was a deep, sodden scarlet. His hands had released it with a dull thump onto the floor, out of paralysing fear more than the tremors which in the head of his rooms had been soothed marginally. Not enough. He’d had the wherefore all about him to be nervous, embarrassed and horrified when the Slytherin had arrived. But all of that abated when another wracking cough could not keep within him and Baldric had to dart away from the elder man’s side in an attempt to do something with himself – to save the upholstery more than anything else. Then, he supposed, he felt ready, or at least too tired to fight it any longer, to accept that there was nothing more to do. He’d never imagined the true indignity of it and as his tears streamed in with the blood and the intolerable, unforgiving pain, he found within himself empathy with his mother and sheer disgust with himself and his father. This was what she’d lived every day. Cruciatus Sickness, they almost benignly called it. Sickness implied a cure. This was still a curse.

St. Mungo’s was ferociously busy for the Christmas period. Ira Goyle was curled up in his chair, idly filling out paperwork having gotten a few moments to himself. As he’d had nothing major come in under his umbrella, he’d been forced to help everyone else who seemed rushed off of their feet with a stream of ridiculous, far from life-threatening issues. It was part of the reason why he loved St. Mungo’s, sometimes. He’d never thought he would end up there, always having been convinced he’d become the family physician. He liked the variation of what he got in St. Mungo’s, though, even if he had inherited some of Healer Walpole’s most dramatic and difficult characters after the latter retired. At the time, Ira had felt utterly dominated by many of them. All of them, actually. Gradually, though, he’d shown his worth. He’d shown he could be good at it. Even Oliver Wood had come to respect him, though he’d been easily the most difficult and dramatic of all – not least his son.

“Ira!” The door banged open, a scatty, petrified looking intern flurrying in. “Ira you need to come quickly,” she demanded, pulling at his coat-sleeve.

“Sarah calm down,” his soft voice rose into the air at once as he lifted his glasses to his nose. “What’s wrong? I promise you, if it’s Mr Turner again then I am not interested in how many knife wounds he has because he should know better than to duel with--”

“It’s Baldric,” she cut in determinedly. “It’s Baldric Wood. Cleander. Poseidon … whatever those dreadful middle names are. Him.” Ira whitened. “You need to come now.”

Ira didn’t think he’d ever run as quickly as he did then. It was an open concern amidst the healers that new the Woods that the eldest child was not doing what he could to guard against the manifestation of his mother’s illness. He’d been lucky to survive, though Ira would blush upon admitting he was too young to have any first-hand experience of that time – a babe in arms himself, really. Alicia was even luckier, though she lived a strange half-life now, playing games with the healers as she escaped her ward to go and look at the new infants or to talk to people, friends she said, who were there, also. He didn’t want the same for Baldric. He’d been a strong Quidditch player like his father. Now, though, it seemed as if he was taking far too closely after his mother.

It was a blur of activity around the boy, everyone seemingly having given up treating minor injuries and non-issue cases that seemed to come in for the sake of it. Some hands were trying to clean him up, others were trying to assess and Ira found himself amongst it all, hanging on to Baldric’s quivering right hand as he tried to check his pulse. He found it. He couldn’t miss it. It was overloaded, pumped full of adrenaline and sheer panic. A few eyes looked to him – he who was meant to be the sole authority on everything to do with the Woods. Ira felt the gravity of the situation hit him instantly and he felt too young. He felt too inexperienced. He needed Healer Walpole. But he wasn’t there. It was him. He was that man. He had to make that call.

“Drain the blood out of his lungs,” he found his voice, levelling his demand at the senior healers watching for his order. “Get all of it out and make sure there’s no infection. Then set up a transfusion to replace what he’s lost and what he’s going to lose. I want some pain potions for him – the ones in the locked cupboards. I need them out, now. Sue them to dull his nerves and the pain of his lungs. Then get him into theatre. I need to fix the tissue on his lungs. Tell Mrs Boris she can get a new hip another time. Right, okay? Go.”

The healers left the Hayes’ behind and repaired away to do what they could for their charge. It left the pair, so desperate to do something, unable to do anything. They could do nothing. All they could do was stand and be led off to the ward they’d station him on when he was done – a more relaxed form of intensive care that was more friendly and less like an aspiring morgue. There, they committed themselves to cold metal chairs and equally icy, bitter tea and coffee in stiff polystyrene cups that the matriarch began to chip away at, letting a pile form on the floor, the tea no longer holding its appeal. Nothing and no one moved for a long time. No discernible sound could be found. No one came to tell them that Baldric was alright. Horror settled deeply within the blonde woman’s gut and her own hands began to shake until she could no longer chip at the cup and it fell to the tiles with a soft clink. It was then that she curled into her husband, wrapping her arms tightly around him so she could press her face into him and hide from any news that came their way.

“Keiran,” she whispered, looking up at him with teary eyes. “What if he’s not okay? What are we going to do?”

“Professors?” A little voice piped up.

Millie turned, still clinging onto Keiran for what felt like dear life. There, in her muddy boots and rain-soaked purple hooded jumper stood Freya Wood, gangly and awkward and half-terrified. Millie got to her feet immediately and took to the girl, pulling her into a tight embrace, reluctant to find it within herself to care as her own robes dampened. It took Freya a moment but her arms went around the elder blonde. Millie pulled away after a little while and brought her hand to the girl’s cheek, smoothing away the salty tears that had fallen, scalding, onto her cheeks.

“We argued,” Freya bit out. “Last week,” she elaborated. “I told him … I said I didn’t want him to come home for Christmas. I told him I didn’t want him there because he’d ruin it because he’d make dad upset and we’re getting along and life is normal and I don’t want any more fighting and I didn’t mean it, professor, I swear. I love him. I do. I just don’t want to fight anymore and I…” she broke off, unable to keep her sobs at bay and Millie pulled Freya back against her, pressing her lips to the girl’s damp hair.

“He’s forgiven you,” Millie promised. “He forgave you before you even finished arguing. Bae doesn’t have a bone in his body that won’t forgive. You owe him an apology,” the witch pointed out fairly as Freya nodded, “but you’ll have your chance for that. He loves you, too. You’re his baby sister, after all, and big brothers don’t leave their baby sisters behind, do they?” Freya shook her head. “Exactly. Come on, sit down.”

Millie set the shivering girl down into the chair she’d vacated and with a few spells had Freya and herself dry. Millie pulled a loose piece of cotton off of the cuff of her blouse and held it out for her husband to transfigure into a thick, warm blanket which Millie then wrapped around Freya’s shoulders. Freya thanked the Divination professor softly and pulled the blanket tighter about herself, staring down ashamedly at the tiles before them.

“Hey little one,” Millie tapped her finger against Freya’s cheek, prompting the girl to look up. “He’ll be okay. I swear it.”

Sitting herself back down the other side of the Gryffindor, Millie resigned herself to continuing to wait. Freya drowsed into a fitful sleep eventually, gaining no peace, it seemed, from doing so. Millie tucked the blanket tighter around her and sighed softly, reaching her arm over the back of their chairs to run her fingers through the hair at the nape of Keiran’s neck. She passed a weary smile over to him and tipped her head back onto the radiator, her mind wandering to what could be keeping them. Why did they not have anything to say?

Three quarters of an hour passed before anything changed. Then everything seemed to happen at once. Oliver turned up first, belligerent as ever. It scared Millie just how like him Baldric was – though thankfully it was only in appearance. It was only the beard that distinguished him from him son and Millie felt her heart stop in her chest, terrified for a moment that Baldric wouldn’t grow old enough for him to make dreadful life choices like grow a similar beard. She took a hasty breath and got to her feet, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at the former-Quidditch player and him her.

“Where is my son?” Oliver asked softly, raising his eyebrows expressively.

“We don’t know,” Millie replied, dropping her arms to her sides. “They haven’t told us anything, Oliver.”

The man swallowed, nodding absently. “I’ll find out.” He declared, stamping down the hall towards the reception where immediately noise rang out as Oliver was rejected from receiving any information. His shouts thundered down the corridor and Millie turned just as Freya jerked awake, whining absently as she pulled the blanket over her head, muttering for her father to go and shove himself … well.

Millie dropped herself back down into the chair, shaking her head as Oliver continued to holler nonsense at the healers.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT HIS NEXT OF KIN?!” Oliver exploded. “I’M HIS FATHER!”

Freya pulled the blanket off of her head and looked around. “Are you?” the younger blonde inquired of the elder.

“No,” Millie replied, glancing at her husband. “You’re not, either, are you?” She asked, wondering if there was something she missed.

“Mr Wood,” the soft voice of Ira Goyle floated over them all, doing much to soothe the incensed former-Gryffindor. “I suggest you take a seat. We will not provide information for you about the condition of your son because you are not his next of kin. When his next of kin arrives, it is up to them whether you are informed or not. Go and sit down and someone will bring you some coffee.”

Millie looked over at Keiran again. “Where’s Ben?”

Aiden's death had been sudden - both times, really - for his son and the other survivors. But this? The fear of losing Baldric seemed never ending, and something in Keiran wasn't sure how to deal with it. Without his meaning to, the Slytherin had somehow adopted into his heart the young Gryffindor, and anxious didn't begin to cover the amount of impatience brewing within the older man. When he realized just how serious the problem was, it had taken him mere moments to bundle up the blond and take him off to St. Mungo's, coming back for his wife after getting agreement from Theodore that it was okay for them to take off. The twins were being looked after, and it left him to tap the heel of his right shoe into the floor over and over while he sat beside Millie.

He was, possibly, just as scared as Melissa clearly was, but Keiran seemed to have a bit more of a handle on it than his young wife did. And it wasn't her fault, by any stretch of the imagination. She had known Baldric far longer, and she had been a bit prone to sheer panic when things went wrong. Keiran, on the other hand, merely stared at the wall, letting it blur before him, tapping his foot until his calf started wondering what in the world was wrong with him for causing it so much stress.

When Millie turned and burrowed herself into his side, Keiran let his hands rub up and down her back and arms to try and spread some warmth, even though he knew it wouldn't be very much help. "Hush, now," he murmured after her question, the arm not wrapped around her lifting so he could brush off a rogue tear with his thumb. "He knows we're waiting on him, doesn't he? He won't leave us. He would never."

Keiran shook his head determinedly, but his attention was torn from Millie and over to the soaking wet little girl he was sure he recognized from somewhere. Classes maybe? She had addressed them by their titles, after all. His heart clenched at the girl's words and the way Millie was so quick to counter the younger blonde's fears, and he knew instantly that she would be the parent their children went to when they needed a cry. She had that mothering instinct, and Keiran wasn't sure he would be of much use to his kids if he couldn't even decipher how to help someone else's.

He did as he was meant to, though, and took out his wand to set the girl up with some extra warmth. Much like Millie, Keiran thought the girl could get some use out of it. The two blondes were settled into the couch cushions beside him, and as he looked over at Millie, Keiran realized he was probably supposed to provide some sort of comfort. The girl clearly was exhausted, so the next time she let out a little sound and shifted to try and get comfortable, Keiran frowned slightly and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. In order to give her something to lean on without worrying about her neck aching - she obviously didn't need more trouble in her life - he turned and pushed his back into the corner of the couch to create a little cubby for Baldric's sister to lean into. Luckily, it seemed to give her the comfort she needed to finally fall asleep, a poor rest though it would be.

At the touch of Millie's fingers on his neck, the professor turned his head and looked at his wife over the top of Freya's head. His eyebrows tugged together but he gave her an encouraging nod and reached forward to kiss her wrist. Although he wished he could doze off, too, Keiran was far too anxious. And he refused to leave Millie awake on her own to deal with it.

At the appearance of who could only be Baldric's father, Keiran stiffened, expecting a chiding for hugging the little blonde to him. But it hardly mattered after Oliver rushed off and after he burst out in sheer anger down the hall. Keiran's eyes widened and he looked at the girls to his left, a terrifying image of Kelly and Millie sitting there while something happened to Liam bursting through his mind for too long. Shaking it off, he caught Millie's question just in time.

"No, he never asked me. I think they would have said something if it was one of us, wouldn't they?"

He hadn't thought of Ben yet, because it was assumed that the man was still out of the country. But had the other Slytherin even been told what was going on? Patting Freya's shoulder with one hand, Keiran pushed off of the couch. "I'll find him," he promised, leaning forward to kiss Millie. "Do what you can to keep things calm here, and I'll be back as soon as I know what's happening. Okay?"

Once he got some sort of agreement, Keiran apparated away and ran down the hall to make his way into Baldric's rooms. It felt rather like breaking and entering, but he didn't have time to worry about that. They all were desperate to know what was happening. After a quick sweep of the rooms, his gaze fell on the computer screen, lighting up with an alert. Eyebrows lifting in surprise, he approached, feeling all the more guilty for completely invading the young man's privacy.

But Keiran had never felt better about invading privacy, because on the screen was exactly what he needed to know. His hands flew to the drawer Ben had mentioned in his letter, ignoring the fact that it was likely ridiculously late in Chicago, and drew out his cell before returning to the St. Mungo's lobby. He didn't trust that the device would work as well as the computer that Ben had managed to keep working, so it felt wiser to go somewhere that the signal would probably be more certain. The last thing he wanted to do was send a patronus over, in case someone else saw it.

Three rings later, a groggy voice answered, and Keiran let out a loud, breathy sigh of relief.

"Bae?" the voice asked slowly, and Keiran could practically hear Ben rubbing at his eyes and pushing back his yawn.

"Ben, it's Keiran," he began quickly, ignoring the confused sound from the other end of the line. "I don't care how you get back here, but you need to do it right now. Baldric is sick and until you get to St. Mungo's, they won't tell us anything. I think he put you down at his next of kin."

"He-... Bae is- How-...?"

"Now, Ben. Get here now. We need you. Baldric needs you. Desperately," Keiran added too late, the line going dead before the word came out. The professor frowned at the phone, sighing heavily and shoving it back into his pocket.

His feet carried him back to the waiting room where they had been settled once Baldric had been taken in. Reaching for Millie's hand, he sat beside her that time, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other snaking under her knees to turn her sideways and pull her legs across his lap. "I called him and it sounds like he's on his way. He hung up on me, so I can't be entirely sure. But he seemed pretty freaked out. So just hold on a bit, okay, love?"

Keiran pressed a kiss to her temple, rubbing her arm again and tucking her into his side. It would take Ben another twenty minutes to arrange a portkey back (the time, of course, shorter than usual given his sheer panic), and five to break past he people in the lobby who wanted to investigate who he was and who he was there to see. But the minute he burst into the waiting area, Keiran sat up, pulling Millie to him so he wouldn't jostle her.

Ben's hair was a mess, his clothes not even attempting to match, all proving the fact that he had given himself perhaps a minute to get somewhat presentable before rushing out the door. His eyes found Keiran's, dropping briefly to Millie as he swallowed hard, once, and then looked to the other people in the room. Not bothering to wait for Ben to find a question for them, Keiran pointed down the hall towards the big white doors, and Ben gave a nod of thanks before taking off.

As he passed, though, the dark-haired man glanced back at Oliver, certain that the other man had to be Baldric's father. He couldn't think of anyone else who could fill that role, after having really taken in the resemblance. It made his skin go cold, but Ben didn't stop to think about it. He approached the first doctor he found - a brunette who seemed to be extremely put out with the chaos going on behind those closed doors.

"Excuse me," he cut in impatiently, looking at her name tag. "Dr. Fox, can someone explain to me what's going on? Someone told me that Baldric might have put he down as his contact."

Blinking, the woman looked up, her eyebrows tugging together as she focused on him. "Mr. Pierson?" she asked, appearing grateful when he nodded fervently in return. "Yes, Mr. Wood has you down as his next of kin. We assumed you knew, but no one could figure where you were. There wasn't any contact information on his forms."

"I use Muggle means more often than not, so he probably forgot the other information. What do I need to do to see him?" Ben persisted quickly, shaking off her apparent desire to take everything slowly and seriously. This wasn't time for patience, Ben decided.

"You can see him right now," she replied gently. "But you also have the singular ability to authorize who may or may not enter and who we inform about what's going on."

"The people in that waiting room," he pointed down the hall at Oliver and Freya, "are his family, even more than I am. Baldric just doesn't know if he wants to accept that. And the other two are like surrogate parents to him. You need to let them in and explain to us what's going on. Now, where is he?"

Holland pointed down the hallway to the door surrounded by doctors, the obvious choice if Ben had taken a moment to look around. "Right," he mumbled, nodding.

"Just tell them who you are and you'll be fine. I'll get the others. Okay?"

So as Ben started down the hallway, Holland returned to the waiting room and swept her gaze across the room. "Bentley has... demanded that you all be brought in. Baldric isn't awake," she began, realizing she hadn't warned the other man, "so we can discuss what's been happening. Well, rather, Baldric's attending can do so. Follow me."

Back at Baldric's room, Ben practically shoved his way though, offering his name loudly to the man who appeared to be in charge, before shoving the door open and ignoring the warning comments from the team of doctors working on Baldric's case. He seized back, though, stress racing through his spine and tightening his shoulders when he realized that his man was worse than he had even expected when he received Keiran's call. In truth, he was exhausted, but he hadn't moved so fast in his life. The rolling chair was snatched by one hand as he moved to the side of the bed that Baldric's head was leaning towards even as he lay there unconscious.

A shuddering gasp was pulled through his lips as the door opened again, revealing Dr. Fox and the others. Ben's hand grasped at Baldric's desperately, his eyes jumping to Oliver and Freya, sure that they were ready to throttle him for even existing, nonetheless somehow replacing them on Baldric's list of contacts. Keiran approached, though, his hand falling to Ben's shoulder in a show of solidarity, shocking Ben into sitting up and staring at the older man.

"It's fine," Keiran assured Ben under his breath, "They can't do anything about it. And you know Baldric wanted you here. That means he needs you, even if he couldn't ask it of you. Don't let them send you off, Ben. You've got the right to stay," he reminded the other Slytherin before standing up straight and returning his voice to its usual level. "Right. We're all here. Now can we get his attending to come explain this? We've waited long enough."