A Parenthood Trial

Being left with a volatile teenager (well aware of the irony that she also was one) and an equally mental father was not something that Millie was really up for but despite her reservations she offered a quick, wary glance down at the raging ex-Quidditch player before replying in kind to Keiran’s kiss, reluctantly letting him go. He disappeared on the spot and she took a breath after, reaching to loop her arm loosely around Freya’s shoulders, the blonde girl now permanently and disgruntledly awake.

“Why doesn’t he just shut up?” Freya muttered into the elder woman’s neck, causing her to huff out an amused chortle. “He can’t go in. Why doesn’t he just leave it?”

Oliver certainly did after a while, stomping childishly down the hall with his arms crossed over his chest. He slumped down onto the sofa opposite theirs and looked over at the blondes, lost for a moment in thought before beginning again his nonsensical tirade which was mostly directed at his son. Millie turned her head into Freya’s, keen to forget all about what Oliver had to say. He didn’t get any right to be upset about this, she decided. Baldric wasn’t his anymore. He belonged to her and Keiran. Where had Oliver been all this time? Where had his father been?

“Be quiet,” Millie hissed all of a sudden, her temper breaking. “I have had enough of you, now. I don’t care how unjust you think this is. Baldric made a decision that was right for him and that is a decision that belongs entirely to him. He is not a child anymore and you cannot presume you have any right to him. He is a man, not a boy. He has made his choices as a man. You should do the same, Oliver. Don’t you dare wax lyrical about how hard done by you feel when all you have ever done is made your son feel inadequate and worthless. Just sit there and shut up for once in your life, Oliver Wood. If you can’t, you can go.”

This, much to Millie’s delight, struck Oliver dumb and he shrank back into his chair, turning his head away from her as shame lit colour up his neck and onto his cheeks. Freya passed a half-smile over to the elder woman and Millie’s lips twitched up in response as she tightened her hold on the girl. In looking after his sister, Millie was allowed to channel her own fears. She buried them, in many ways. She didn’t let it show for the sake of the girl. She’d had her tears with Keiran. Now, she had to be stronger. She had to reassure Freya that it was going to be alright even if, half terrified, there was something in her that said it wouldn’t be. It needed to be. He couldn’t die. Not at Christmas. Not any time.

“The last time I was here with Bae,” Millie began in a whisper, “was when we were your age or a little bit older. We had gone to a party and predictably did as partying teenagers do. We took brightly coloured capsules we didn’t really understand and drank far too much to really remember what was going on. I don’t recommend it in any capacity,” Millie laughed a little, squeezing Freya to her. “But I had gone upstairs with my, uh…” the witch glanced over at Oliver before continuing, “then girlfriend to do as partners do and Bae came in.” Millie couldn’t help but laugh then, able to see his face even now. “The horror-awed look he had was priceless and he lost his footing, half sort of stumbled and fell out of the upstairs window. He was a big bloke even then and smashed it all to hell before landing in a bush. Broke his collarbone, if I remember rightly, and we had to all sober up while he got his bones set.”

Freya laughed openly then and Millie felt a burst of pride at being able to lighten the mood a little.

“I had to drag him out of the bush, mind you,” Millie remembered. “Stark bollock naked but for a pair of pants and I was pulling your brother out of this bush in the middle of the night with Muggles watching. We were probably at our best. I think I fell in twice, too. It wasn’t a great look and you have no idea how mortified he was when he woke up – it was brilliant.”

“Can I tease him about it?” Freya asked hopefully, grinning when Millie nodded to her. “I’m going to go and get something to eat, is that alright?” She inquired after a moment.

“Course it is!” Millie assured her, unwinding her arms from around the girl and taking away the blanket as she did so. “Here,” Millie fumbled in her bag for a few seconds before taking out some sickles to press into Freya’s palm. “Get something nice.” She insisted before letting the girl go and wander slowly down to the canteen.

“You ruined him, didn’t you?” Oliver intoned lowly, clearly up for another fight. “With all of your vices.”

Millie sighed wearily and looked at him pointedly. “I helped him breathe when all you did was stifle him.” She retorted in kind. “We did it the wrong way but it was the way it was done – the way it had to be done – at the time. Just leave it.”

“No. I won’t leave it,” he swore, sitting up. “If you hadn’t butted your nose into his life and gotten involved with your disgusting little friends and all of your criminality then—”

“He would’ve found it elsewhere,” Millie snapped, folding her arms over her chest. “He would have found an outlet elsewhere. Do you know anything about your son, Oliver? Have you actually had a proper conversation with him – ever? Do you know what he does for a living now, do you?” Oliver blanched. “He’s a History of Magic professor. He works at Hogwarts with the rest of us. With all of our vices. He’s doing what he loves. Not Quidditch, funnily enough. What he really loves. Be all righteous if you want, Oliver Wood, but I swear to you, don’t you dare blame me for what has happened here. You are the root cause of everything Bae has ever done or has been forced to be.”

Thankfully, it was then that Keiran returned. She let herself be enveloped into his arms and snuggled tightly into him. She sighed softly and watched out of the corner of her eye as Oliver got up and began to pace once more. Freya returned eventually with a chocolate muffin and a packet of rich tea biscuits along with what she thought were chocolate frogs. Millie smiled at the sight of the girl as she sat back down beside them. It wasn’t quite what she’d meant when she’d said something nice but if it went some way to reassure the girl then Millie was glad to have given her the money for it.

“Gimme a biscuit would you, duck?” Millie whispered and Freya smiled, holding out the packet to her.

Just as Millie grabbed the biscuit, it seemed all hell returned to breaking loose. Keiran straightened up like an ironing board and Millie turned, bringing her legs down properly as she abandoned her biscuit. Oliver stalled, mid-stride and in amongst her sweets Freya looked between the Hayes’ and her father, unsure who the man was who was half-running into the ward. Millie watched, fear-struck again, as he talked with a doctor and she brought her hand to her mouth, catching her fingernails between her teeth. Ben disappeared. Well, she supposed it as Ben. It could be no one else. Baldric would trust no one else if it wasn’t Keiran or herself – well, possibly Baird but heaven knew where he was.

Millie got to her feet immediately when it was made clear they could go and see him. Their little group followed hesitantly, Freya passing Millie a confused look. That, she decided, was better than the fuming glare that Oliver had resumed and Millie sighed softly, lacing her fingers with Freya’s and on the other side Keiran’s, trying to decide what she was going to do with Oliver. She could remember one spell from the transfiguration text book she’d been thumbing through the other day, too distracted to realise she’d been reading the wrong one but not quite sound of mind to concede it wasn’t Divination. She could turn him into a bug, then put him in a jar and leave him on her bookshelf. That was far too satisfying a thought to not be done if he continued to be an arse, she decided.

When they entered the room, Millie stalled a little and wouldn’t have moved into space if not for Keiran. She’d never seen Bae look so ill. Even when he’d been throwing his guts up, painfully hung-over all those years ago, he’d had colour in his cheeks. He was as white as the sheets that he was tucked into, all of the colour and the warm hues of his skin washed away seemingly with the blood that he’d been denied – blood that they seemed to feverishly be trying to replace. He looked peaceful, at least, and the rise and fall of his chest confirmed to them all that he was alive. He’d changed though. Somehow, despite the peace, he looked older and more fraught. His hair wasn’t sandy so much as it was now flecked with grey here and there. It gave her pause and certainly stunned Oliver into such a stupor he could not find it within himself to care after the man by his son’s bedside.

Millie smiled into Keiran’s shoulder, leaning against him as he demanded the answers she’d forgotten all about. That was what they were there for, after all said and done. The grave looks on the faces of the Woods smacked to her as they already knew what had happened. The irritation that marked Oliver when the doctor entered was indicative enough to her that they did not want their dirty laundry – no matter how much these people cared – hung out for everyone to see.

“We don’t need any backstory, Goyle,” Oliver snapped as Ira righted his glasses on his nose, fumbling absently with his clipboard.

“But I love backstory, Mr Wood,” he replied, looking up at the far larger, elder man.

He was but a boy, this doctor. Perhaps a little older than Millie herself. Twenty? Twenty-one? If that. A Goyle, though. He was a man fit for his purpose, then. She knew enough about them – thanks to her grandmother, if nothing else – to remember that this boy would have been trained in that as opposed to being given a traditional magical education. He was meant to do a job, specifically for the family. It seemed strange to her, then, that he would be allowed out of the fold and into a public forum, as it were. It did mean, though, that Baldric had the best.

“I thought Healer Walpole was Baldric’s doctor …” Millie interjected before she could help herself.

The Goyle man smiled at her. “I’m Ira,” he introduced himself. “Walpole retired around a year and a half ago. I’ve been bickering with Baldric ever since. Mr Pierson,” Ira turned to Ben. “You’re the contact, aren’t you? I’ve heard a lot about you, actually. All good, I promise.” He smiled.

“Goyle,” Oliver barked, making Ira jump. Millie passed the Wood man a terse look. “Get to the point,” Oliver amended in a softer tone.

Ira looked at Oliver, a ghost of a smirk appearing on his face. He murmured something into his clipboard that sounded like ‘mind your blood pressure’ to Millie but she couldn’t have been sure. He took a moment, as though keeping them all under cruel suspense though really it was barely a breath’s length of time. It felt like forever to her and when he looked up again, he seemed to register the weight of the expectation being thrown at him.

“What Baldric has experienced is a series of complications associated with what was originally a chest cold. It was benign at first but the potions he took weren’t enough to combat the virus. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to have cured it himself in the normal manner we would a chest cold. If you have a developed, healthy-ish set of lungs you can deal with it but Baldric’s are different in the sense that they never fully developed as you well know, Oliver. A series of operations when he was an infant went some way to sort that out but we didn’t fix it all, unfortunately. What happened here was that the mucus that had collected was as much on the healthy parts of Baldric’s lungs as it wasn’t. When he coughed, he couldn’t move the mucus properly and get it off of his chest so what it was doing was chafing the damaged tissue as it slid back and forth out of where it had collected. This was what initially resulted in the bleeding. A tear was also made by the chafing, allowing more blood to fill in and this came after an infection had already set in so these complications are what have brought us here.”

Ira brought his arms down to his side, no longer cradling the clipboard as he continued, “He’s going to be absolutely fine, I promise you. Granted, when he wakes up he’s going to feel like he got hit by the Hogwarts Express but he’ll get better. I’m prescribing him some heavy duty pain potion, though, to be on the safe side.” Ira scrawled his signature onto a prescription page and pulled it off of the clipboard, leaning over to hand it to Ben. “It’ll make him drowsy and weak but it will go some way to dull the muscle pain he’s going to wake up with and help the fried nerve endings heal—”

“What do you mean?” Oliver cut in, getting up from the chair he’d sat himself in by the door. “What’s wrong with him? That couldn’t be caused by the infection.”

“No,” Ira conceded hesitantly, looking up. “It was caused by Cruciatus Sickness,” Ira winced as Oliver whitened, colouring to the snow on the ground outside.

“You said he’d be fine,” Oliver growled, stepping forward. “How can he ever be fine again if he’s got that?”

“Because he’s been developing the symptoms for years and we can control it,” Ira snapped back, his voice rising a few decibels. “He did not get hit with the curse, Oliver, but you cannot be so naïve to not see the same in your son as you do your wife. Tremors,” Ira began to list, “loss of appetite at strange times, motor reflex problems, susceptibility to illnesses. It’s there. Not to mention pain; chronic pain. Clever boy that he is, his magic saved the feeling. As he began to panic, it reinstated the feeling which was why he collapsed in the first place. But you listen to me, we can control it.”

“I’ll eat my hat if you can,” Oliver spat. “What about Alicia?”

“Your wife was hit with the full brunt of the curse and gave up her health for her son’s. That was the price she paid so that Baldric could live. What she has to live with are the consequences of that night and she does. So does Baldric! Unlike in your wife, where the symptoms were acute and unavoidable, Baldric’s are circumstantial and we can soothe it. He won’t die from it.”

“Are you going to tell me that before we have to pack him in a box and put him in a mud hole or what?” Oliver beat back.

“Oliver!” Millie hissed reproachfully. “If Bae wakes up and everyone’s arguing he’ll feel even worse. Stop it.”

The Wood man had nothing to say to anyone then. He passed Millie a withering look and turned on his heel, electing to storm out of the room rather than listen to anything else that the doctor had to say. The door slammed behind him and Freya flinched. Millie squeezed the young girl’s hand in what she hoped was a reassuring way before looking back to the doctor who had the grace to appear embarrassed for his own conduct as well as Oliver’s.

“I am afraid,” Ira began again, “that Oliver brought up something I didn’t want to have to explain because it wasn’t my story to tell. If it is fine with you, Mr Pierson, I can go some way to explain.” Ira waited for his go-ahead before taking a breath to fill in the blanks. “The Dark Lord,” he sent a regretful look to the women who stiffened considerably and he cleared his throat. “After the Second Wizarding War he went looking for followers. He went to the Woods, knowing they wouldn’t join him but he went anyway – torturing Mrs Wood was as good as having them on side, I think he must have thought. Only, Alicia was pregnant with Baldric at the time. She did her best to save Baldric and condemned herself in doing so. She’s alive, just. She gave him the best chance and did the same for you, Freya. What she and Baldric have to live with are the consequences of that curse and that night.”

“Is it curable?” Millie asked softly, feeling as though Ira would be more forthcoming with the truth to them than to the raging banshee that was Baldric’s father.

“No,” Ira murmured. “But it’s manageable and Baldric’s symptoms are seasonal and far from being acute. He will live a happy, full life once we get him past this point. Does anyone else have any questions or can I go and get you some coffee or something to eat?” He offered.

Ben didn't look up until his name met his ears. Would that be Baldric's last name, too, if he lived? He could tell that the other people in the room had been watching him, despite Keiran's assurances that he was meant to be there. Despite the promise that Baldric had wanted Ben there. He clenched his jaw, but nodded at Ira's question, still befuddled as to why the answer really was 'yes.' Ben swallowed hard when the healer implied the details of his conversations with the older man's fiancé, conflicted because of the people surrounding him - especially Baldric's father. The sister he was a bit less worried about, but her presence certainly made him anxious.

The more Ira spoke, the more Bentley wanted to shrink into himself. Or, preferably, into his Gryffindor. But that was most certainly not acceptable, given the variety of people in the room. When he was handed the prescription, Ben hesitated and nearly flummoxed, but he took it and stared down at the paper rather than make eye contact with anyone else.

Baldric's father reacted so angrily that Ben couldn't help but blink up at Ira, wondering what he could possibly have missed. His lover had been hiding it the whole time, hadn't he? It just made him feel even worse to realize that he hadn't noticed a thing. Or maybe he hadn't wanted to see it, even though it had been there the entire time. Regardless, he felt terrible.

For a man so typically able to handle himself and speak up for himself, Ben couldn't think of a single thing that merited an attempt at breaking into the conversation. Even after Oliver left. When Ira directed his question at Ben, the Slytherin's lips parted, evidence of his desire to find his voice, but he could only nod. In the end, though, he wished he hadn't.

At the mention of the Death Eaters, his snatched his hand away from Baldric as if someone had threatened to stab the both of them, dropping the prescription on the bed next to the blond's hand. He paled, and Ben knew that, if he had struggled to speak before, his throat was far too dry for him to try now.

Finally, he found himself glancing over at Keiran, hoping the older man would have some intelligent question to ask, so Ben wouldn't have to sit there and continue waffling. But the professor didn't understand it any more than the businessman did. Neither could find the words to question it, so they ended up exchanging a terrified look, that both realized too late was incredibly awkward. Finally, Ben shook his head and looked back to Baldric, wringing his hands.

"Wait," Ben called out suddenly, his gaze snapping over to Ira. "How long..." he hesitated, clearing his throat before continuing. "How long until he wakes up? If you have an idea, that is."

Keiran frowned, cutting in gently with, "Well, Ben, I think it's usually more of a waiting game."

The young man ducked his chin, nodding once. "Right. I've just never-. I haven't been to a hospital before, so it's..."

"New?" The professor offered with a reassuring smile. "He won't be alone when he wakes up, Ben. I promise."

"I know that," Bentley snapped, his eyebrows pulling together in frustration. "I'm not leaving. I just want him to be okay," he added with a sigh, his hand moving to rub at the fabric covering his dark mark.

Inching around the bed, Keiran shot a worried look at his wife before resting a hand on Ben's shoulder once more. "Listen, mate. You bear no resemblance to the man who did this. Alright? You wanted love and he never understood it. It may take Bae telling you himself for you to believe it, but I think it's true. So... if you need a break or anything like that, you let me know, okay?"

Ben looked a bit torn up about whether or not to believe the man before him, but he eventually decided that Keiran just couldn't understand it. Not that it was the older man's fault, of course. But Ben didn't see it the same way, and he once again was astounded at the idea that Baldric had ever deigned to forgive him.

When Keiran moved back to stand beside Millie, he looked over at Freya, the corners of his lips pulling downwards as he tried to discern what could be done. Shaking his head, he offered one arm to Freya even as he wrapped the other around Millie's waist and turned his next question towards her. "Can his father be reasoned with?" he asked, directing them towards the door. "The last thing Bae needs is to wake up and find Oliver having a go at his fiancé," he pointed out, oblivious to the fact that, though it might have been obvious to someone who knew, others might not have gathered the fact that Ben was the blond's contact because of their plans and their relationship.

“Mum could reason with Dad,” Freya chipped in, looking up at the professor somewhat regretfully, knowing that it wouldn’t be the case. Oliver wasn’t in a rush to go and see his wife. No, he was in a rush to leave, to go home, and to prepare for Christmas in whichever fashion he wanted. She didn’t expect that he was going to stay. She couldn’t have blamed him, either. She felt almost like spare parts and she was Baldric’s flesh and blood. Who really were these people? But then, if they were more like family, who was she?

“You’re his fiancé?” Freya turned in Keiran’s hold to look at Ben, shock reaching across her features. She glanced at Baldric, still miles away from the room, wrapped up in his dreams. She didn’t pity him. If she didn’t know better she would have said he was staying asleep for the sake of avoiding all of the drama. It wasn’t that she disapproved, more that she was shocked. She hadn’t really known. Of course, she had gotten wind of it when all of the gossip went around about a man she now presumed was Ben walking into class and stealing out her brother only for Baldric to come back in looking snogged senseless to cancel the lesson. He was the one.

Ira had slipped out, content to leave the family to it. However, now more than ever Freya felt alienated and confused. Baldric had been her only ally – although he had really always been her enemy in the family, the one she had to compete with for attention from both of their parents. It didn’t matter now. Even if he died, he’d be the favourite, she knew. She didn’t hate him for it, either. A little bit of resentment was there but he’d always been her number one go-to even despite the issues between them as a result of, mainly, their father. He’d been there. Now he wasn’t. Now he had surrogate parents. Now he had a fiancé. He didn’t need her.

“Congratulations,” Freya uttered, not really meaning it. She looked about herself, glancing over at the concerned, empathetic face of the witch the either side of the professor. Then she looked at the professor himself, shame coating her features. Biting her lower lip, Freya gathered up her countenance and broke from his gasp. “I need … I’m hungry.” She threw out by way of false explanation, wrenching open the door before hurrying through it, letting it close with a gentler click than the one with which her father had left.

“Freya!” Millie called out, immediately moving to follow, catching hold of the door handle and pulling at the hinges again so she could bridge the space between the room and the hallway. She exited just as the girl disappeared around the corner and Millie broke off into a faint jog, hurrying to follow after her, taking hold of the younger girl’s elbow to pull her back and twist her around to look at her. “Oh sweetheart,” Millie murmured, her eyes widening a little at the sight of the tears wetting the Gryffindor’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, reaching up to rub at her eyes with the cuff of her hoodie. “I can’t... I’m not... I’m just… I don’t know what to say. I thought … I didn’t know. I just…” She dropped herself into the waiting embrace of the elder witch and sighed heavily into Millie’s shoulder. A little bit of soothing came from the hand that reached up to brush across the back of her head and for a moment Freya was sure that it was what having a mother was supposed to feel like. But it wasn’t like that, at all. She had no idea what that felt like. She pulled away abruptly.

“Let’s get something out of the vending machine, shall we?” Millie asked jovially, pulling a sickle from her pocket to slot it into the hole. “At least then when we go back, you’ll have something to nibble on. Do you think Ben likes crisps?” She asked hesitantly, getting the machine to spit out some things for herself and Keiran first before handing over a couple of chocolate bars for Freya to take. The girl shrugged, sniffling a little, and Millie picked something random along with some chocolate before gesturing for Freya to go back.

“I don’t want to,” the Gryffindor replied, shooting a meaningful look at the Divination professor.

“I know you don’t have anything to say,” Millie replied, “but you need to try. Ben isn’t,” Millie glanced away briefly, a mere breath’s length of time, “all bad. There’s a good man there for your brother. He is right for him.” Mille swallowed. “So, you… you should let yourself trust in that and get to know him a little bit and maybe decide about Christmas, hm? Bae will want you to be with him, you know.”

“Professor—” Freya screwed her face up in an attempt to try to convince Millie to just let her be.

“No way,” Millie shook her head. “Get your bum in that room and eat your chocolate and play nice. When you’re really ready, you can come home with Keiran and me and we can have dinner and you can get your head down. How does that sound?”

Freya smiled a little and shrugged before trudging along back to the room, indicative of her decision. Millie smirked and shook her head, pulling out her change from the machine before following after the girl, pleased that she was going to give it ago. Millie had a pretty good idea of what it was that was upsetting Freya though she wouldn’t ask until later. Instead she entered again behind the girl and smiled at Keiran sending him a “fixed it” sort of look.

“Um, here,” Freya offered the packet of crisps and chocolate to Ben that she’d bought before hesitantly sitting herself down in the chair next to his. “Sorry,” she mumbled, ducking her head and glancing over at the Hayes’. “I wasn’t expecting it,” she sat up a little bit to look at Ben. “I thought I knew Baldric,” she lifted her leg up onto the chair and wrapped her arm around it as she peeled away the wrapper from her mars bar. “Dad doesn’t know,” she deduced tartly, breaking off a bit. “Probably best to keep it that way. Otherwise no amount of reason will keep him from going bananas.” She paused then added: “So, you love him then?”

“I told her she needed to try,” Millie murmured to Kieran, offering him a bite of her twix. “And that we’d go back home when she was ready and then we’d make her some dinner or maybe order some in and let her kip in the spare room. I reckon she’ll need us about for tonight or at least until Bae comes to and everything starts to look greener again. Freya seemed up for that. You don’t mind, do you? I just think she needs someone.”

Night drew in even tighter around them as it was inevitably going to do and though they lingered on, all began to grow wearier in the hospital and it seemed as though Baldric was not going to wake up any time soon. Millie was in and out like something else entirely, even popping back to Hogwarts just before they started to think about going back in order to bring Ben something to read and some pyjamas as well as a clean shirt and a pair of jeans for the morning – albeit all were Baldric’s but she doubted he was going to complain.

After setting them down on the side table, she brought her hands to Freya’s shoulders and hinted that it was time they let them be. The girl nodded, stifling a yawn that had been bubbling up, and she got to her feet. She turned a little and thought about it but soon took a chance and threw her arms about Ben’s neck for a hug – a quick one which she soon released him from as her shyness overtook her. Millie leaned over to squeeze his shoulder, passing him a gentle smile, and then grabbed up their things.

“We’ll leave you to it,” she murmured to Ben, glancing mournfully at Baldric as she spoke. “He’ll be up and about tomorrow, probably,” she told him, smiling a little. “And playing Quidditch again by the weekend. You’ll see. Right, love,” she turned to Keiran now. “Are we ready to get the hell out of here? We’ll be back tomorrow, probably, Ben. Not early, I don’t reckon but during the day sometime. Yeah?” She looked at her husband again before reaching out to take Freya under her arm. “Better get you back, hadn’t we?” She asked, popping a kiss to her forehead.

(ooc: been waiting so long to use the Ben gif XD I'm pumped.)


Ben blanched, looking up at Freya when she addressed him, having ignored the rest of their conversation. He swallowed once, surprised by the fact that a little girl could rattle him so completely, but nodded once, subtly. Her disheartened few syllables in reply made him deflate all the more. Ben suddenly found himself wishing he had selected a more sensible chair - preferably one with a back - though his mental griping was cut short at Melissa's cry of distress and Keiran's look of pure shock.

The professor took a couple steps back, staring at the door with his lips parted, as though he wanted to go after them, too, but thought he would just make things worse. "Wonderful..." Keiran muttered, glancing over at Ben. He recognized, belatedly, that Ben had far more to be upset about. "They'll come around, Ben. Freya would rather come to understand than be without Baldric. I'm sure of that."

"Didn't you, like, just meet her?" Ben replied, lifting an eyebrow and frowning. It was almost funny, Keiran decided. They looked so alike at times. The older Slytherin had certainly made that face a number of times.

"Well, perhaps," Keiran conceded. "But she explained their situation a bit. I truly believe it will work out."

Ben blinked and pressed his palm against his thigh as he sat up a bit straighter to focus completely on the other man. "I don't understand. You're practically a father to Bae. You know that, right?" He waited until Keiran nodded, albeit reluctantly. "And yet you encourage this," he gestured between himself and Baldric, brow furrowed.

Keiran's face fell, his gaze dropping to the bed where Baldric still remained silent. "I'm not like that, Ben. I don't hold grudges if I can think of a single reason not to. I like to think my marriage is a good example of that. And I want Baldric to be happy. So if that means he's chosen you, then that isn't up to me. He may not feel like it yet, but he's an adult. Near ten years younger than me, admittedly. But that doesn't make me qualified to judge his decisions. Nobody should be allowed to decide someone else's life."

Thankfully, Millie and Freya returned before Ben could think of anything to say - not that he really had any idea, of course, what he wanted to retaliate with. It sounded genuine and caring, so who was Ben to try and counter what Keiran had said?

Ben's gaze followed Freya as she crossed the room towards him, extending the snacks that he supposed were meant to be a sort of peace offering, opening his palm hesitantly. It wasn't as though he expected her to snatch them back, exactly. He just was waiting for the inevitable remark that he wasn't good enough for her brother, because-

Sorry.

-he was almost, sort of a Death Eater... Oh, but she had no idea. She couldn't have known. Her remarks really only served to make Ben feel more guilty, though he doubted that was her intention. At her question, though, his confused expression softened.

"Of course I do," he nodded, then turned to look at Baldric over his shoulder. "He saved me. Though, I don't know that he sees it that way. But it's true. He's done so several times by now."

Millie's words caught Keiran's attention, drawing it away from the unlikely pair beside Baldric's bed. Crunching down on the treat she had shared with him, Keiran nodded. When she finished, all he could think to say was, "We'll have three kids for the night, then, after we pick up the twins. Better us than him at this point, though."

Ben seemed rather lost, though he did try to chat with Freya a bit here and there. None of it truly meant much, but he supposed it was better than answering her question and then completely pretending she wasn't there. Millie's thoughtfulness caught him by surprise, though he tried not to think on it too hard. Perhaps Keiran had convinced her that Ben was not as awful as he must have once seemed. Or maybe she just didn't have the heart to say anything about it considering the situation. Either way, he was grateful, and gave her a nod in thanks.

The book he picked up as the Hayes' and Freya made their way out, reading late into the night. He had made it several chapters into the novel by the time fatigue truly started to wash over him, but he eventually let the pages fall quietly shut, and leaned forward to cross his arms over Baldric's mattress. His chin came to rest atop them, and Ben tilted his head to watch for any signs of wakefulness.

It wasn't until he started to feel like he might nod off without meaning to that something changed. Ben's pulse jumped when he felt the mattress depress, the solitary sign that the person he loved most in the world definitely was not going to die and leave him on his own. He couldn't deal with going back to that life again - especially now that his left forearm was there to nag at him every waking hour, and sometimes even in his sleep. So both of his hands gathered up the nearest of Baldric's, eyes wide and questioning as he finally found words to direct singularly at his man:

"I swear to God, Bae. You'll get so much hell if you're teasing me with this. You can't just shift about and then not open your eyes and look at me. I know the story, now, and I need you to look at me and prove that you're okay. That the people I naively decided to associate myself with didn't do you in. Please, love. Just for a minute. Just, wake up. Don't fall back in where I can't protect you."

“But I’m a tease,” came the hoarse reply as one eye flickered open.

The light was low, just enough for Ben to read his books without straining his eyes too much. It was unobtrusive and allowed for Baldric to get his bearings. He could get his bearings. He was alive. Blinking that one eye, Baldric took a shaky breath, feeling the air rush up through his lungs with more ease than it felt as though it had ever done, and opened both. He hissed a little bit as even the weak light burned at his retinas and he closed them back again, a low whine emerging from the back of his throat. Too soon, he decided, as his chest began to rise and fall a little bit quicker as the exertion began to show. As promised, he felt as though he’d been hit by the Knight Bus then backed over by it again. Everything hurt.

Slowly again, Baldric attempted to tear open his eyes. It felt like peeling off sandpaper but eventually his eyes began to warm to the light in the room. The whites were coloured oddly, a strange putrid green that was leftover from whatever it was that he had been given by the doctors. His hair was finally getting a little bit more colour to it but the strands by his temples didn’t look as though they were going to lighten for a little while yet. Some colour had returned to his cheeks and though he was still unnaturally ashen, always having leaned towards a darker, more Mediterranean hue, he looked better. Somehow, he looked better.

“Someone’s been telling tales, have they?” He asked, raising a brow before deciding quickly that it wasn’t something worth attempting. He winced, wondering why in god’s name his eyebrows hurt of all things, and then decided to ignore it, opening out his hand to lace his fingers with Ben’s. A little smile appeared at the side of Baldric’s lips and he took a heavy breath, revelling to himself at the feeling of the, albeit stale, air swirling around within him. It made him lightheaded, if it was even at all possible and he shifted a little, finding now that he was monstrously uncomfortable.

Lifting a hand, Baldric glanced around, turning his head as he followed the line of red tubing. He took another breath and looked back over to Ben, his eyes shining with questions about what had happened and, more particularly, what had happened to warrant a sack of blood being strung above his bed. He whined again as his neck clicked painfully and he tightened his grip on Ben reflexively. Another long breath was indulged upon and Baldric tugged on Ben’s hand, pulling it up to his chapped and dry lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, ironically in the same manner his sister had shunted out her apology earlier. The tone was the same but there was earnestness there and genuine regret for how things had happened. “I meant to say,” his voice grew scratchier and hoarse and Baldric sighed, his eyes flicking over meaningfully at the water jug. His wandless magic wasn’t that good. Pride didn’t want to make him ask, either, but he knew he had to. Squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds, Baldric reopened them and inclined his head towards the jug. “Please?” He got out, reluctant to clear his throat for fear of jarring something like before.

It wasn’t classy. In no way was this way of being desirable in any way. Once he’d had his fill and once his despair and embarrassment was such that he couldn’t put up with having anything more to drink, Baldric softly whispered his thanks, raising a small smile for his fiancé. Swallowing another few breaths of air greedily, Baldric let his eyes slide shut before recalling what Ben had said and the way he’d sounded. Fearful. Scared. Like it was unlikely Baldric was going to wake up.

“They won’t do me in,” he swore, reopening his eyes. “As long as you’re here, I’ll beat everything that comes my way. I’m not okay, though. I feel like shit with sugar on.” He chuckled a little despite himself and reached up with a juddering hand to touch at Ben’s cheek. “Are they going to let me out or am I playing captive until Christmas?” He asked. “I don’t want to stay here. Bloody hell.” He lifted his hand away and flexed his fingers before holding his hand out flat, watching as he trembled. Baldric groaned, dropping his fingers back into Ben’s palm. He lifted his gaze, smiling a little before offering, “hello handsome. I promise I wasn’t trying to bring you home early. I’d have been more creative than trying to die. Did you get everything sorted out there? If not, don’t worry about me, go back and fix it. It’s okay.”

At any other time, Ben would have laughed and agreed, even if he was joking in doing so. Instead, though, he found himself shifting his weight to roll the chair forward and towards the bed, his back straightening. He nearly apologized for his request that Baldric look at him, once he saw the struggle with which the blond dealt. His forehead creased with concern and he nodded at the question he was presented with. Nothing about the situation was right. None of it.

Somehow, his mind was torn away from the problem at hand, his thoughts focusing on Freya. Should he tell Baldric yet? He supposed it wasn't the best time to do so, and made up his mind to work it into conversation once he determined that his fiancé would not overreact. The fear in Baldric's eyes, though, made him suck in a breath and remember that he was the one who actually knew more than Baldric all of the sudden.

"Keiran told me that he went to talk to you, and he found that you were really ill. Collapsed and everything," he put in, hoping he was actually giving useful information. "I think you'd been... well, Goyle said that you'd gotten blood in your lungs and they had to sort it out. Explains the bag," Ben gestured towards the object in question.

"He said that winter was the worst time for you," he added after a moment of consideration, watching as Baldric pulled his hand up to settle a kiss on his fingers. The action pulled Bentley's words from him at a far more rapid pace than he had expected. "I didn't- I mean, if I'd known, I swear I wouldn't have left. I- It's just, I didn't know, and this didn't happen last year that I could see... Bae, I'm so, so s-"

Sorry.

Ben frowned, tilting his head to the side, unsure why the younger man felt he owed his Slytherin an apology. The man was so like his sister that it made Ben nervous again, but he stood to reach the water that Baldric requested instead of mentioning Freya or Oliver just yet. When Baldric had gotten his fill, Ben returned the pitcher to the side table, and moved to rest his elbows on the bed closer to his man's shoulders.

A sad little smile arose at the touch of fingers against his cheek. All of Ben's fears seemed so stupid now. He couldn't have simply done away with them, of course, given that he had been so rattled by his father's actions. But those worries paled in comparison - as ironic as that phrasing might be, based on the complexion of the now-ill Gryffindor.

"Um, I don't remember if Goyle said how long," Ben replied guiltily, shaking his head. "But I can check on it. I'm sure if I promise to be over-protective and whatnot, they'd consider letting you out early, though."

Ben turned his head to kiss Baldric's palm when he spoke again. A more genuine smile pulled at his lips that time, until his last two sentences. "Like hell," Ben snapped, his eyebrows showing just how much he disliked that idea. "That's not happening."

His eyes swept over Baldric's features, though, and Ben's own softened as he sighed. "Sorry. It's just... I'm just worried, still. They said it won't ever go away. Which means you're going to be watched like a hawk each winter. Just so you know," he added, mostly in jest. "I'm not going anywhere, Bae. I promise. They can handle it without me for now. Derek is there, so it should work out."

Ben reached over, tucking the blankets closer around Baldric as he tried to figure how to ask the question that was prodding at him relentlessly. When he found himself down in his seat again, though, he decided to just give it a try and see what his man wanted to do.

"So, your father was here earlier. I'm not sure if you could tell. And the Hayes' took Freya home with them to get her something to eat. They said they were coming back tomorrow, but if you want me to go get her or ask Oliver to come back, I can. I should probably tell you, though... that Keiran accidentally let Freya know about us. About who I am to you. I don't know if you wanted that, but... I mean... I'm sure she would keep it quiet if you prefer..." Ben shrugged, his gaze falling to the mattress.

A sort of sick feeling appeared in his stomach at the idea that he would be hidden away, but he understood the reasoning behind it. He intended to tell Derek and Nancy at the holidays, so it wasn't as though they would never know. Ben just got the anxious feeling in his chest that Baldric might not want to say anything, and that he would feel strange about his fiancé keeping him from others. He didn't think he would actually be able to hold it against Baldric, though, in the end. Not when he bore the visible proof of his decisions.

At that thought, Ben looked up again and added, "I also heard that your mother is here. Would you want me to ask her to come see you?"

Baldric regretted it. He regretted it all. He hated the fact that he’d been so flippant with his own health. He’d wanted to be. He’d always wanted to be. He’d wanted to convince himself that he was just as normal as anyone else and he could push at his body’s constraints and push them further still and live to tell the tale. He’d wanted to be like all of the other blokes who could play Quidditch in snow and in rain. He could deal with the latter but the former would require a dozen or so warming charms and some preventative potions to stave off the illness that would threaten. He supposed that the snow was what had done it. There was nothing else, really, barring the general ailments carried by the teenagers he went some way to educate. It probably had little to do with them, though. It was just him. Just him.

Looking at Ben, Baldric tried to find any sign that the elder man wanted to go and quit while he wasn’t tied down; quit while he still had the chance to go. He didn’t distrust the Slytherin personally. What he didn’t want to bank on was the idea that anyone would want to stay with him, broken as he was. He had no idea how he was going to look at Keiran again, having put him in that position that afternoon. He could well imagine that there had been blood in his lungs – though the majority of it he’d spat out onto clean linen or down the sink drain. Really ill didn’t begin to really cover it, he didn’t think. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt like it. He could recall feeling dreadful only once before but he couldn’t even be sure it was a true memory – he’d only been a child, after all.

“I like winter,” Baldric offered lightly, “but it has this aversion to me. Last year was okay. I remembered what I had to do to keep the bad bits away and I think I was probably stronger then anyway so … I mean, it was probably inevitable – this one. I didn’t mean to, though. I should’ve been more careful but I wasn’t. I just forgot that I’m not immortal for a second.” He laughed a little bit. “I’m not. Not even close. And they’re probably not going to let me out early now they’ve got me – or at least not until they’ve booked up the next twenty years in little slots of physiotherapy.” Baldric rolled his eyes expressively, his dismissal of their best efforts showing his father in him and also some of the reasons why he’d ended up there in the first place.

Raising a brow at his fiancé, Baldric smiled a little bit as Ben rose and then well again. His other brow lifted at the thread – or promise, he wasn’t sure which – of being watched for the next winters to come and he winced a little bit at the thought, glad to hear the joke in Ben’s voice. He didn’t want to be smothered by him. That was the last person Baldric thought he’d be able to deal with being smothered by. He knew that Ben would want to worry but he didn’t want Ben to think he had to assume some sort of caregiving role, either. His father had a habit of forgetting and his mother, despite her own problems, was just as bad: he wasn’t made of china. Putting him on a broomstick had been to harden him up against the cracks that had showed from when he was small. Coddling him smeared them shut for a little while. Now his pot had split altogether. He didn’t want anyone else to try and fix it.

“I’m okay, Ben,” Baldric soothed, lifting his hand to cover Ben’s, stopping him from fiddling with the blanket. “I’m fine. I’m warm. I’m good.”

What came out next surprised Baldric to no end and he took a moment after everything washed over him. He stared at Ben, flabbergasted and horrified all at once. He hadn’t wanted to expose Ben to his family. Freya would have been the exception to that. His auntie would have, equally, been nice for Ben to meet given she was crazier than a box of cats but apart from that he didn’t want contact with them himself, let alone for his fiancé. He could live without them quite happily. He could exist outside of his father’s madness, his mother’s illness and his sister’s teenage rejection of everything she’d been offered. He’d done it too. Seeing it, though, made the belligerence harder to stomach. Knowing Ben had, had to made Baldric feel sick. Sicker.

“I figure I nearly died,” Baldric pointed out faux-knowledgably. “So I’m not going to muck around with being anything other than totally proud of you and completely with you regardless of who is in the room at the same time. I love you. You are the man I want to be with for as long as these bloody doctors keep me ticking over so no, I’m not keeping us quiet just to pander to my father. He can piss right off if he doesn’t have a nice word to say because I don’t care about him or anything he has to say. I don’t even know why he was here,” Baldric pouted. “I thought I’d made it pretty clear last year I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Snowy evening. Walked out. Never came back. Moved in with you,” he grinned cheekily. “Thought that one would’ve sunk in, the prat.”

“The thing is …” Baldric began unsteadily. “I don’t want you to have to see them. He’s full of hate. My mum doesn’t have a lot left in her. Freya is me… this wound up, angry, teenaged me that didn’t understand until the haze cleared and I looked at her and saw she was exactly the same. But it’s not my right to drag her up by the scruff of the neck to tell her no because I’m the one who is responsible for her being in that position for a start. I was born on death’s door. Voldemort was really kind for a murderous bastard. Our pain is my dad’s. Y’know the drill. Okay, mum followed me. We weren’t healthy. Freya got everything that was left in the tank. She got the life. I caught up because dad put everything into me, missing the trick and thinking that I was his hope and the one to invest everything in. I threw it back in his face and all along it was her,” Baldric began to rasp now, losing his breath. “It was Freya who was worth it. She was worth saving. And he didn’t.”

Baldric took a few deep breaths, reaching for the water again and after a few sips and another blow to his ego he looked at Ben, reaching up to pull him by the collar down for a kiss. He relaxed then, fully. This was what he’d wanted. This was what was going to keep him going. This man. This man. This perfect, imperfect man. He was everything for the blonde who didn’t want to face his father or see his mother because his parents had been dead to him years in the making but lived on just for the sake of it. He had Ben. He had Keiran. He had Millie. They were who he needed. He had his friends. His job. His kids who he was going to get through their exams and into the workplace without further hiccups. He had his purpose. None of that had come from them. It didn’t change who they were, though. It also didn’t take away his love for them.

Pulling away, Baldric looked into Ben’s eyes and smiled a little bit, a quick quirk of his lips. “Alicia Wood,” he breathed. “She’s in the chronic illnesses department. If you wait, though. Clever witch … she’ll find us, I bet you.”

Clever witch she was. Alicia, in her nightdress with her hair in an intricate plait down her back, had stolen away from her ward having pinched some Quality Street from the warden’s sweet tin as the man had slept. Then, after putting on her dressing gown which her son had bought her a long, long time ago, she put the sweets in her pockets and made her way through the hospital, retracing her favourite steps and turning through the halls, avoiding healers and the like until she found the correct floor she’d heard word – and her husband’s booming voice – that her son would be on. There was a woman at the desk who barely even noticed Alicia as she walked by. She glanced at the board, squinting at the names. Wood. Baldric. Room 221. Of course.

Opening the door, Alicia stepped inside, turning around on the balls of her slipper clad feet to close the door behind her. The conversation had moved on somewhat but all stopped as the witch entered. Baldric felt a lump rise in his throat along with joy at the fact that he’d been right. Alicia wandered over to the chair that Freya had vacated earlier on and sat down beside Ben, fishing a strawberry chocolate out of her pocket to hold it out to Ben. She smiled softly, a look which softened the weary lines on her face. Her hair was white as promised. Her face was pale and missing any of the formerly beautiful duskiness that it had boasted. She was as pale as the shift nightgown she wore. The scarlet dressing gown gave her the colour she missed. She still looked pretty though, to Baldric at least. It was clear in some respects where the softened airs of his father had come from in her son. Whereas Freya was all Alicia with a smattering of Oliver, Baldric was meant to be all Oliver though it wasn’t clear just how much like his mother he was until she was beside him. Her eyes were dull, though. They’d lost their spark a long time ago.

“What did you do now?” She asked, unwrapping a fudge for him in brittle fingers, suffering a small cough before holding it out for him to take, her hands shaking all the while – it actually took more effort not to notice how they juddered.

“I can’t really chew these anymore, mum,” Baldric pointed it out though he took it nonetheless, biting off the end with noticeable effort.

“Those used to be his favourite,” Alicia informed Ben. “I should think he’s gone back to the caramel swirl by now, hm?” Alicia asked, holding it up to Baldric, smiling wider as his eyes lit up for it. “A mother knows,” she told Ben, beginning to unfold the foil with some difficulty. “He ate nothing but them when he fell down the stairs as a little lion. Even I couldn’t console him but I sent Oliver out and got him to buy all of the Quality Street the shop had and we sorted them all out so that my lion could have a whole box of caramel swirl’s for himself.”

“I’ve got my fair share of fillings for it, too,” Baldric commented blandly, watching his mother as she unfolded the foil from the caramel.

“Just because you didn’t clean your teeth properly has nothing to do with me,” she replied, holding it out to him before looking to Ben. “So, my lion’s lovely snake,” Baldric’s mouth fell open in shock, “would you like another strawberry delight or would you like a green triangle?” She held them up, shining in her quaking palm. “Then I’d like to hear all about you so that I can judge whether you’re going to make an honest husband for my son because heaven knows when his father finds out you won’t get a word in edgeways for all the shouting he’ll do. I think I’ll have the triangle, do you mind?”

“Mum-”

“Bae, I know everything,” she returned, grinning at him. “And I asked you before if you’d gotten someone to look after you and you told me you had. I can only presume that this is the lovely gentleman. The Slytherin suggestion was a stab in the dark but it looks like I’m right. Husband, equally … well, when you become set on something, Bae, you’re set, aren’t you? So it’s not such a reach. Now, before they figure out I’ve gone, tell me about yourself, sweetheart.”

Ben's eyes met Baldric's when his movements were halted, embarrassed to have fussed when the younger man didn't want it. Then again, he supposed, if it had been the other way around, he would have done the same thing. Ben only hoped that Baldric felt the same way he would have: appreciative despite the twinge of embarrassment that likely went along with it. So he settled, trying not to feel anxious until Baldric finally find words to assuage Ben's fears.

A smirk of his own grew briefly, but Baldric seemed to be struggling again, making Ben fidget for lack of the knowledge of how to help him. It wasn't until Baldric's eyes met Ben's again that the older man realized how desperately he had missed his fiancé. As strange as he felt about it, given that Baldric was not quite feeling himself again, Ben didn't object to being pulled down for a kiss.

In pulling away, Ben had to register just how strange he was acting. Yesterday, he had been directing his employees about with a practiced and professional ease. But now he had trouble finding even short sentences for the man he loved. Ben supposed it was all due to the fact that he could well have been away and lost Baldric without even knowing. Sure, he had known something was wrong, and Keiran had seen as much. But he wasn't near right about what that thing was, and Ben had to ask if he should have felt something when Baldric had his... incident.

He had started asking after what Baldric would want when they got home, just to give a more optimistic take on things. But then the door opened and he swung his gaze around to find who could only be Baldric's mother. He nearly gaped at Bae, but instead he sat up and attempted to look presentable for someone who had been granted perhaps four hours of sleep at best. When she spoke to him, he blinked, trying to determine his footing. Alicia is the one that he was meant to meet, according to Baldric. But it had never happened, and now it had been pushed on the three of them without warning. He wasn't complaining, exactly, but he was struck dumb. Really, he was just unprepared.

Still, a little smile rose at her story, Ben's eyes drifting over to Baldric as she told it. He didn't actually give a physical reaction until she turned to him and presumed the lot of it in one go. He paled, his lips parting in surprise as he glanced to Baldric. He must have told her. But Baldric seemed just as shocked. Holding out his hand, he simply stared at her as she continued, taking the sweet she offered.

He was supposed to talk about himself? Ben had no idea where to start. He let his head tilt to the side as he contemplated what he could possibly tell her without managing to convince her that he wasn't fit for her son. Finally, he nodded and cleared his throat, deciding that he could simply pretend he was comfortable, even if he wasn't. He did so often enough at work, didn't he?

"Well... There isn't a lot to know, really. I work for a company that helps smaller businesses to sort themselves out and succeed. My adoptive father is the CEO, so I'm sort of... in training to take over, I guess you could say." Ben hesitated, wondering if he were meant to explain how they had met. He didn't know how to gloss that one over without accidentally taking a jab at Oliver, so he decided to pass that over unless it was brought up directly. Perhaps he could just let Baldric answer that part.

"You were right about the Slytherin thing, yes. I'm told it's the right house because I've got a good bit of ambition in me, though, more than anything else. Most of the time, I believe them. I've always been a bit hard, though, from being without the people who were supposed to be my parents," he admitted, reaching his hand out for Baldric's again. "But I think I've changed since meeting Bae," Ben clarified, lifting their joined hands so he could kiss the blonde's fingers almost absentmindedly. "I like to think, too, that I've done some good in return."

It was strange to watch his mother digest this information. Baldric wished everything had been different and his relationship with his parents had been better. He wished he could have taken Ben home to meet them and could imagine them sat on opposite sofas with anxiety written into their expressions – Ben because he wasn’t sure he would make a good impression, Baldric because he didn’t want them to reject him, Oliver because he didn’t quite know what to make of the couple, and Alicia waiting for her husband’s temper to flare. It hadn’t been like that. He knew that there was a high chance that had he been born in a different set of circumstances without the legacy of that night burning in his veins, everything would have been different. Certainly, he wouldn’t have walked out last Christmas and he never would have met Ben. Baldric’s hand tightened around his fiancé’s, perishing the thought.

Even so, Baldric liked to think he would have met Ben somewhere, some when. He believed in the idea of soul mates and while he wasn’t sure and wouldn’t have liked to have presumed it for Ben, he felt that they were as close to that as he could have ever gotten. He hoped that somewhere in some alternative universe where Voldemort had gone elsewhere that night, there was a version of himself hand in hand with Ben walking into his sitting room in Glospie with the shy smiles and anxious eyes that Baldric imagined as they announced they were engaged to healthy, happy parents. He could see Alicia, her skin shining with the dark hue he’d always admired before she’d truly gotten ill, her hair full of colour and light. It was better than this. It was so, so much better than this. Their grim reality.

“So you’re like Edward Lewis, only opposite.” Alicia gathered, breaking Baldric from his thoughts. “This does make my son Vivian, though.”

“Mum, why are you trying to make sense of what he does using a movie?” Baldric asked with a laugh.

“He is the opposite of Edward Lewis though, love,” Alicia protested. “And it just seemed funny to me, that’s all. A very admirable profession, uh …” She glanced at Baldric.

“Ben, mum. This is Bentley Pierson, my fiancé.” Alicia’s face brightened. “Ben this is my mother, Alicia.”

“You’ve change each other.” Alicia observed, sitting back. “And only for the better, too.” She looked to Ben. “You’ve made my angry, angry boy so very happy, haven’t you? You have no idea how grateful I am. Slytherins protect people they love, so you’ll protect my little one, won’t you?” Alicia nodded to herself, already aware of what his answer would be, and got to her feet.

“Mum?” Baldric endeavoured to push himself up on his elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Good night, my son,” she murmured, leaning over to press her lips to his forehead. She smoothed back some of his hair, a few sparks of magic leaving the ends of her fingers to colour up his locks so that they were thick and sandy once more. Her short nails trailed across his cheek and she kissed him again before moving away and pecking her lips to Ben’s head, also, murmuring her goodbyes to him.

“Don’t listen to your father, Baldric,” Alicia commanded. “When he comes and tries to get you to change what you want to do, don’t listen. When he shouts, shout back but don’t heed what he says to you. Trust your heart, alright?”

“Yeah, mum,” Baldric nodded, sagging a little bit as his elbow sparked with pins and needles.

Alicia left then, the door shutting softly behind her. For a long while, Baldric stared at the door, flabbergasted and lost for what he was meant to say. Eventually he dropped himself back down onto the mattress and found Ben’s hand, pulling at him absently as he found it within him to stretch across the bed to make enough room for his lover.

“Sleep with me, tonight,” Bae begged. “I feel like … I don’t know. I have this awful feeling that … that was the last time I’m ever going to see her. Sounds stupid. Enlarge the bed or something, though. I need you beside me, Ben. Please.”

Ben had no idea what Baldric's mother was on about, but he figured it was probably better not to question her, given the circumstances. Then again, because of who she was, he likely wouldn't have, ever. For a man with so much supposed power in his job, Ben had found himself with some serious sort of inferiority complex. Well, when around those he did not employ, anyway. It didn't make a lot of sense that it should come up around Baldric, but the blond knew more about Ben's flaws than anyone, so perhaps it wasn't so incredibly wrong.

"Of course," he murmured, his gaze flicking towards Baldric at the comment regarding a younger version of his man. It had been mentioned, when referring to Freya, that anger had been a defining trait for the Gryffindor. Ben had caught a hint of that in the Leaky when they first met, but it had never seemed to have ownership over Baldric. Not that Ben could tell, anyway. Then again, Baldric had not seen the cold, cynical side of Ben that was so prominent elsewhere. That side had started to fade, except perhaps around certain individuals or upstart interns that got on his nerves. But Alicia was right, even if they had not known it. They were changed, and not because of bad events but because of happiness. Despite everything, they had not allowed the Ministry to overwhelm them, and Ben was never more grateful for his stubbornness.

"I'm really glad I met you," he offered when she bid them goodnight, unsure what else to say. She had helped to open his eyes beyond what he had already discovered, and he truly meant what he said.

Still, he glanced down at his hands when she implied that Oliver would fight them. Ben wasn't shocked to hear it, though he wished it wouldn't be so. There was no getting around it, he was sure. So he chose to simply accept it instead. He would be there when Baldric needed him to. And it was asked of him almost immediately. So although Ben frowned a little at the reasoning for it, he lifted himself from his chair and did his best not to jostle Baldric around much as he did, indeed, make the bed big enough to fit the pair of them. Then he settled down and held a hand out to suggest that the blond was meant to get organized in whatever way felt the most comfortable.

Once both had grown still, Ben finally found his voice again. "It doesn't sound stupid, by the way. But you can't know for sure. I'll check in first thing tomorrow if it makes you feel better. What you need now, though, is rest. So do I, really. But that hardly matters, considering." One of Ben's hands lifted so he could give Baldric's arm a gentle squeeze as he craned his neck to look the younger man in the eyes. "You wake me up if something happens, okay? I don't care what it is. I've got you."