A Parenthood Trial

It was a fitful sleep that Baldric resigned himself to, that night. The clicking of the clock on the nightstand was making him restless and irritable and no matter which way he tried to sleep he felt pressure on his chest and pain up and down his spine that made him want to scream. Ben being there helped. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if the elder man hadn’t been there. More than once over the course of the night, Baldric huffed and buried his head into Ben’s neck, snuggling as close to him as pain and the wires he was strung up to allowed for. In the end, he squinted at the buttons he could administer his own pain potion with in the moonlight poking in through the narrow blinds. He poured it into his veins until he could no longer feel his spine. After that, he slept soundly – though whether it was sleep or just pure unconsciousness, it wouldn’t be clear until morning.

The morning in question brought a nurse into the room. She paused on the threshold, shock painting across her features at the sight of the two men, and then a smile tickled at her lips. She shook her head and made her way over to open the blinds and crack the window to let some fresh air in. She then readjusted the blankets around them and absently folded up Ben’s jacket, setting it on the arm of the chair and tiding his books and any stray bits and pieces before leaving. She returned not a moment later with some breakfast she left warming and freshening charms over to keep it nice. She knew that Baldric in particular would be hungry when he awoke, having missed dinner the night before, and so the chef had put on more helpings than he perhaps should have at the behest of the witch. She passed one last look over at the men before leaving, closing the door with a soft click behind her.

Baldric awoke half an hour later. He found that he’d been released from all of his wires, bar his medicating one, – courtesy of his doctor who had entered not long after the nurse – and he was furled around his fiancé, feeling restful and content. But hungry. Also, hungry. Baldric lifted his head blearily and glanced around, wishing he’d had the presence of mind to ask someone to get his glasses for him. His eyesight was getting worse now that he had to squint at the awkward scripts of his pupils. He was almost glad he’d not gone into Quidditch – he would’ve been useless. Nevertheless, he did spot the tray of food on the side. He dropped his head back down onto the pillow beside Ben and sighed softly.

Baldric took a second to himself and swept his eyes over his fiancé’s features, absorbing the nuances of Ben’s face. He wiggled closer and started at his eyebrow closest to the pillow and planted a kiss over it. Then he went up and took another on his forehead and moved his mouth across the plane of skin before trailing all over Ben’s face, ending up at his lips which, after popping a kiss to his chin, Baldric covered with his own, slowly coaxing him into wakefulness. It was part-apology for all of the irate tossing and turning he’d done, part thank you for being there and then just love – overwhelmingly, it was love.

“Draco is going to be so pissed with you,” Baldric whispered against Ben’s skin. "When we go home, I promise not to be such a pain, okay? M'sorry, Ben."

Exhaustion assured that, despite Baldric's fidgeting, Ben was asleep almost the entire night. When his fiancé began, too, to leave kisses across Ben's face, he merely furrowed his brow a bit in his sleep. That is, until he lifted a hand to pass it over Baldric's side as he responded to the kiss proper. A quiet hum found its way out of the back of the older man's throat, and once Baldric pulled away to speak, he finally opened his eyes. Somehow, he had known without having to check, that there was no one else it could be. Even though he had forgotten, for a moment, where they were and why they were there.

Worry stole the content look from his features almost instantly upon taking in his surroundings. "He'll be fine," Ben assured him. "Those cats are all kinds of strange. I'm sure he won't be upset with either of us for long, if he is at all."

Ben shook his head when Baldric apologized, not interested in hearing it. As upset as he might have been about not knowing Baldric was unwell, Ben knew that he had lied about things that were far worse and probably just as dangerous, but for both of them instead of just for Baldric. Well, unless you count the grief that would have come if Keiran had not found Baldric and the worst had happened.

Shifting his body to face Baldric at the thought, Ben brought his hand up to the blond's face, pressing their foreheads together. "It's alright, Bae. We've both hid things, but it's because we were scared. But I would rather us be brave together, okay?" Ben requested, pulling away enough to look across the pillows at him.

His gaze went around the room, catching on the breakfast waiting for Baldric. It registered that perhaps he shouldn't still be there, wearing his clothes from two days ago, and not having gotten in touch with anyone he should have from work. So he sat up slowly, offering assistance to Bae as needed, so he could tuck the younger man under his arm as they leaned back against the pillows. He reached out to pull the tray in front of his fiancé.

"Looks like the nurse got you all sorted, didn't she?" he offered with a smile. He didn't pause to consider the fact that part of it might have been intended to be his own breakfast, mentally preparing himself to get up and go grab something in the cafeteria. But he was content to wait until Baldric had gotten more comfortable, or at least didn't feel like he had to apologize. So Ben pressed a kiss into the fabric covering Baldric's shoulder and let his head rest against it once he had pulled back.

The events of the previous night came back, and the anxiety Baldric had felt about his mother returned to the forefront of Ben's mind. "Bae...? Love, do you want me to check on your mum? I don't want you to worry, but I won't go if it's not what you want. Or, I can go later if you don't want to now but change your mind."

Chuckling lowly, Baldric nodded, wondering why on earth they’d ended up with one of the mental animals that were coming out of the Hayes household. Draco was a sweetheart really, sort of, though Baldric couldn’t help but think that the cat was going to have some serious staring in disgust to do when they finally got home. Baldric honestly couldn’t wait to go home, either. He hated hospitals, but mostly it was the fuss that they more or less guaranteed which irked him. He just wanted to be left alone – preferably with Ben, most preferably on the sofa with stupid movies. That was his ideal when it came to getting better. He didn’t know when he was going to get it, though.

Baldric nodded hesitantly at Ben’s words, unable to find his own. He didn’t know quite what being brave entailed but he felt like a cowardly lion as oppose to a brave one. He had more of a predisposition for sleep in that moment than any chivalric acts his house was famous for. No, he didn’t think he had a whole lot of bravery left. In fact, he suspected there was very little left in the tank, indeed. Nevertheless, he was willing to try for the sake of Ben. He didn’t want to disappoint him, especially given how he’d kept him in the dark without repentance. He wanted to make it up for him. How, Baldric had no idea, but he was going to think of something. He had to, really.

Glancing up, Baldric’s eyes fell onto the tray with the food on it and, as if realising it, his stomach rumbled. He whined pitifully and looked at Ben balefully. He wanted to complain at him when he found himself being helped up into a sitting position but there wasn’t enough in him to voice such a complaint. He would have rather tried it himself but he knew if he did so, his healer would pick that moment to wander in and berate him for it. When Baldric set his eyes properly on the meal, though, he hastily picked up his fork and began to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.

He looked up again when Ben spoke about his mother and he swallowed heavily before bringing the fork between his teeth. He looked down at the bed and shook his head. He didn’t know whether the spooky sixth sense had been right or not. He would wait to hear from someone about the matter. If nothing came his way, she was alive, if it did, she was the opposite. He suffered a heavy sigh and shook his head again, this time mostly to himself before pushing at the bacon which he didn’t really want. He picked up a bit more egg and ate it absent-mindedly.

“Thank you,” he murmured after swallowing. “Maybe … maybe later. I don’t … I’m not sure I want to know yet.” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck before looking up. “If you want to go for a walk all the same, d’you reckon you could badger someone into setting me free? I’m kind of … well, no, I’m totally sick of this place already, babe.” He smiled weakly, glancing back down at his food. “Don’t worry but… um. Yeah. I won’t eat all this, y’know. You can have some by all means. Not quite pasta but it’s definitely filling.”

Despite Baldric's protestations, Ben did not dig into the food that had been provided, certain that it was more important for his fiancé to be sorted out and happy than it was for him to eat anything. Something told him that it would not change as time went on; Baldric would always be the one that needed to come first. Even if he got a bit of a headache from dealing with it.

He considered taking the blond back to Hogwarts, but a part of him didn't want to see what had been left behind during Baldric's attempts to fight his illness. He didn't want to see what Keiran had found. Not yet. So when they finally left, it was to Ben's - their - flat, so he could bring his lover into their room and make sure he was tucked in and cozy. From there, it was a matter of setting a variety of movie options in front of Baldric, leaving the remote with him, and going into the kitchen to quickly make up a sandwich to fill the hole that came from skipping meals for too long. It was nearing on twenty-four hours, after all, and he had to admit that he was starting to get grouchy because of it. And Baldric, of course, did not need that.

In Bentley's mind, the only thing that Baldric needed was rest, and perhaps warmth. Both of those he could easily provide. It was the bits that came after that he wasn't sure of. The last thing he wanted was to impose on his man while Baldric wasn't well enough to argue about it. But there was something he was desperately looking forward to, as soon as things were better. After all, he had a Christmas gift to give, and Ben had never been more sure of his choice of gift for anyone before.

Taking a bite out of his sandwich, Ben cleared up his counter and returned things to the refrigerator before headed back into the bedroom. He kept one hand beneath the sandwich to catch any stray crumbs, but sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Had he not been trying to avoid a mess, he would have offered a hand or rested it on his Gryffindor's leg, over the covers. Instead, he fidgeted so he was a bit closer before asking his questions.

"What do you need, Bae? What can I do?" he asked between bites, looking down to see if the blond had opted for a movie or wanted something else instead.

Returning home felt like nothing else on earth. After being away for so long, Baldric didn’t think anything could beat the feeling of walking through that door, albeit in the sluggish, miserable state he was in. His stomach churned inside of him, dismayed by the potions that had been pumped into it and, though he told himself he was too old to throw his guts up, he couldn’t shake the nausea. No protestations were uttered when he was led into their bedroom and no further grumbles were even thought of once he crawled under the duvet and felt his eyes slide shut for a few moments as his body acclimatised back to his surroundings. He was home.

Curling the sheets tightly around himself, Baldric peeked out from over the duvet and looked at the telly, absently pressing buttons on the controls to flick between the channels. He eventually settled on a dull rom-com and dropped the controls on the top of the bedding before snuggling down properly, his eyelids rising and falling almost in time with his breath as he fought of sleep he didn’t want to come. He didn’t want the potion-induced dreams. He wanted his stomach to at least calm down first but the more he laid there, painfully stationary, the more it leaped within him, trying to do something about the frothing medicine it was carrying.

When Ben entered, his eyes brightened a little bit. He pushed some of the covers away and offered Ben a little smile that barely arched his mouth. He brought a hand to his head, whining into his palm as his fingers felt across the fever which the Healers had promised him and had not failed on delivering. There was a potion for that, too, and the cold spells that Baldric could actually feel. He didn’t think if he was cuddling the radiator he’d be warm in that moment. He reached out for his fiancé, curling his fingers around Ben’s side and couldn’t help but rouse a wry chuckle as he clocked the sandwich.

“I dunno,” Bae admitted, running his hands through the front of his hair. His stomach turned decisively in that moment and Baldric’s fingers stilled as he waited, trying to decide what was about to happen to him. Then, all at once, Baldric threw himself out of bed and half ran, half stumbled into the bathroom, barely getting to the sink in time before the potion made its dastardly escape from his stomach, taking bile and Merlin only knew what else with it. Baldric squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as he coughed into the basin.

Reaching for the taps, Baldric turned on the water and took a swig of it before spitting the water out into the sink. He rested his head against the tiles above it and took some deep, gasping breaths. He took one breath too many, though, and he found himself spilling more potion down the drain, his knuckles turning white as his hands gripped around the basin. His eyes watered and his throat began to burn absently as he tried to take in water he was losing and swill his mouth out at the same time. To no avail.

Exhaustion finally brought an end to it, and that Baldric possibly had nothing left in him to pour down the drain. He slowly let himself go, slipping down with a bump onto the floor and he leaned against the leg of the skin, pressing his head against the cold porcelain. Shallow breaths replaced the deep ones this time and he drew his legs up to his chest, opening his eyes to look at Ben with open regret and shame. It wasn’t meant to be like this, they both knew that much. Bae wasn’t sure this was the proper price Ben should have had to have paid to keep him alive.

Ben jerked back as Baldric rushed away, his eyes wide. Despite the fact that he had been halfway to taking a bite of his sandwich, he hesitated only a moment before just dumping the rest of his meal on the bedside table and followed the blond into the bathroom. This was not how Baldric was meant to be spending his first day home. It just made Ben wonder if he had talked them into letting his man come home too early. But Bae had asked, so Ben had made it happen.

He crouched down, a short distance away just in case it made his Gryffindor feel more comfortable, and gave a sympathetic frown in return. He really just wanted to pull Baldric to him and provide some warmth, along with the simple an potentially healing idea of human touch. But the way the younger man had curled up made Ben uncertain. Any confidence he had held about his ability to take care of his man was a little bit shaken.

All he could think to do, in the end, was push himself off of the tile so he could pick up a washcloth and wet it. Squeezing out the extra water, Ben moved back to Baldric's side - closer this time - and extended the cooled towel towards him. "Don't worry about it, okay?" he began finally, leveling a serious expression in Baldric's direction. "This is what I'm here for, Bae. A couple sick days will come my way eventually, and then you'll be the unfortunate soul who has to put up with my complaining. Then we'll be even. Yeah?"

Ben's hand reached to cover Baldric's, a warm smile tugging at his lips. "Now, do you want me to help you back to bed? I can bring over a bin, if you would be more comfortable there. Just tell me what you want, and I'll make sure it happens. Promise. You don't need to worry about anything. I most definitely will not be heading back to work until New Year's, earliest, so I'll take care of everything, okay?"

“I can make you soup,” came the guttural croak from the Scottish man as he turned his head into the ceramic of the sink, cooling the feverishness of his skin against it. A shaky breath broached past his split lips and he felt his lungs open up within his chest. Some of the sickness left him has he coaxed some life into his torso. It felt extraordinary to breathe: to really breathe. It didn’t stop his stomach from flip-flopping within him, though. He groaned again and opened up his hand, enclosing his fingers against the damp towel which he brought to his brow. Some of the water squeezed from the fibres of the cloth and slid down his face, disappearing heatedly past the collar of his shirt.

“No more bed,” Bae shook his head, dropping his hand down into his lap. “I need…” In truth, Baldric wasn’t entirely sure what he needed. In the condition he was in he wasn’t a good measurer of his own desires. He didn’t want to be ill anymore: that was his principle desire. Thereafter, his needs were imprecise barring the ultimate need that was for his fiancé. He wanted to enjoy Ben while he was home. He wanted to be well enough to fold into the elder man and earnestly tell him he loved him before ravaging him senseless. He wanted to reduce him to a mumbling stupor but as much as his lust and love for the man he adored intermingled, energy and health prevented any attempt to act on such desires.

Staggering to his feet, Bae dropped the towel into the sink and braced himself on it for a minute as he let his insides settle. Then, frustrated by the heat that was stinging at his skin, he pulled his hoodie over his head and growled to himself, tossing it into the washing basket. The lion under his skin was on the prowl, as restless and as tempestuous as the man who wore him and around his neck, shining against the golden fur, was a bright green serpent, lazily tucked into the warmth of the cat, dreaming. In the strange light of the bathroom the colours seemed vivid, or perhaps it was against the pallid nature of Bae’s skin that it seemed so.

The rustling creature who encased the lion was not nearly as calm as their counterparts. Golden fur simmering with anger reflected in the man who scratched his hand across his chest, inspecting the curls which had been sliced into by a bright red line where the doctors had saved his life and half-healed their entryway. He pouted a little, looking at the criss-cross stitching that was holding together the stubborn pieces of skin that refused to be tamed by healing salve. He sighed and dropped his hand back down, wishing away the nausea that was still washing through him.

Picking up his toothbrush, Bae waggled it between his fingers and tapped it under the faucet, a smidgen of magic turning it on to wet the brush. He squeezed a liberal amount of toothpaste onto the brush and brought into his mouth, freshening his teeth and tongue from dead animal to minty fresh in a few moments and though he hesitated, spitting out the toothpaste down the drain wasn’t so stomach-churning as he thought it was going to be and so soberly returned the brush back to its pot. It was then that he turned, taking hold of Ben’s hands again. He guided one around his middle and held the other tightly before lifting his spare to the elder man’s cheek, feeling across the soft, slightly scuff-clad skin he so loved.

“How am I ever going to be able to wrap your presents without you seeing?” Bae managed a joke, his lips quirking up a little at the sides. At his hip, the lion stopped pacing and settled down above the waistband of his low-riding jogging bottoms. A little bit of golden puff peeked out of the top of the trousers and the snake quirked up, seemingly unimpressed. It slithered out from around the lion’s neck and though the big cat objected, batting at the reptile plaintively, the snake sat himself down along the line of Bae’s trousers. It glared out at the world, not at anyone in particular, and the lion shook its great head, lowering its chin down onto its almost too-large paws, content to watch its companion with what looked to be a fond smile on his face.

“Can we drink tea and eat custard crèmes before Ira swings by with the never-ending list of things I can’t eat and I want to chew my own arm off?” His smile grew a little bit stronger as he added, “When I’m better I’m having a rare sodding steak with onions and cheese and everything that could ever possibly be terrible for me and then I’m going to take you to bed and make sure you know,” he brought his lips gently to the side of Ben’s mouth. “Exactly how much I love you,” he murmured, lifting his lips to the brunette’s ear, “and how grateful I am to have you, Bentley Pierson.”

“Just wish you didn’t have to deal with this,” Bae sighed, straightening back up and lowering his arms to slink them around Ben’s middle. “I promise, at least, that if I don’t have to take any more of that rubbish I won’t be sick again. Equally I promise to take what I’m actually meant to take so I don’t end up like this again. I don’t care so much about me but I … I didn’t know if I was going to see you again and I thought …” Bae took a breath. “I can’t be without you and I knew that, I really did but I … I didn’t realise how true that was. I love you more than anything.”

Ben was nervous, and if he were asked, he definitely wouldn't admit to it. But the tension in his shoulders would probably give him away, if Baldric looked or reached out and noticed. Still, he felt a little bad about asking Baldric to go out when the blond didn't seem like he was properly sorted out yet. Then again, Ben had the habit of thinking himself more ill than he really was, so perhaps Baldric was in that same boat. Either way, he wasn't going to ask. All he knew, really, was that Baldric would definitely want to be a part of what Ben had planned.

So he brought his fiancé to a street on the outskirts of London, a part of him still wondering how he had gotten such a bizarrely posh accent from growing up in so many different places. Ben himself wasn't even sure anymore. Some part of him suggested it was the chef at the orphanage, since he had seen that woman more than anyone else growing up, but he couldn't remember how she sounded. It had been too long.

Embarrassment licked its way up Ben's neck as he looked at the building in front of them. The structure itself seemed sound, but the lawn was unkempt - and hardly much of one, considering how little land the orphanage owned. Its short wall out front, and the gate right in the middle, seemed to be sturdy enough, but Ben made a note to check it the next time he visited. After all, he would be there much more often, now.

As interested as he was in seeing what Baldric thought of the place, it was clear, he felt, where they were. The sign out front, after all, was a hint. The name, he felt, would be worth changing. How many cliché orphanage names could there be, anyway? Safe Hollow just sounded like someone had not tried very hard. Perhaps Baldric would be up for brainstorming. If nothing else, he could always use the name of their new proprietor. He nearly smiled at the thought, but decided that it, perhaps, would not seem very charitable of him.

Still, when they stepped forward, Ben hesitated. "Bae," Ben started suddenly, holding a hand out to stop the blond as he aimed for the entrance. "I don't doubt that you will handle this well, but I feel like I should explain something before we go in." He swallowed, turning his gaze to the building once more so that he did not have to look directly at his person while he spoke.

"I'm not sure that I know much about how things have been done here as of late, but when I was here... I was one of the ones who didn't want to be touched. I think you might have seen a bit of the lingering issues I had with that when we first met. People don't generally get too close, if they know me. Derek and Nancy, for example. They just sort of caught onto my wanting space, so it worked out pretty well. They aren't exactly very tactile themselves, though, really." Ben shrugged and shook his head, his lips twitching upwards as the image of them came to mind. They were, truly, wonderful people. And they didn't necessarily deserve what he had put them through.

"It isn't a brilliant image, and I'm sorry for it, but all I've got is a mental picture of a little, dark-haired boy who was taking care of himself because nobody else cared. And I worry that's what life is like for these kids, whether or not someone new comes along to take care of this place. So, just... I don't know. I don't think you will, but don't take it as a personal thing if they're nervous. I know that you're smart enough to figure it out, but... well, just in case."

The material was starched, stiff and new. His fingers trembled here and there with the impreciseness of their motions. Popping the buttons through the holes, with a crystalline blue stare the young blonde man watched as a more familiar creature to him began to take shape. Having been lost amongst the stuffy material of sickness, he’d not realised how much he’d wasted and changed. The cloth that came now around his body was loose whereas once it would have been tight but not unpleasant. His fingers had a wasted sort of edge to them that made the rings that little bit sloppier up and down his knuckles, more prone to coming off. What he took solace in was that, finally, his hair was getting colour again.

Speaking of, he’d scuffed his fingers through it that morning, puffing it up into some semblance of a style, though he couldn’t say what it was. It felt thicker, somehow, and he took solace in that as the first sign that perhaps was, indeed, getting better. Just moving again, though, made him feel a little queasy and though he’d picked out clothes that were clean and made him feel human, he still wanted to collapse back into bed or onto the sofa and nurse his wounds. The scar was healing, finally, closing up behind blonde scruff that was finally beginning to claw back colony on Baldric’s chest.

But in gaining hair somewhere he needed it, he exalted at taking it off of his chin and jaw. That had been what had made him look more human, even without the clothes. When his aunt had come to drop of Christmas presents, in a fit she’d taken the scissors from the kitchen and had cut his hair. Despite her roughness she’d done it quite well and he was happy enough. Thereafter she pulled him into the bathroom, sat him down and took all of the curling hair off of his face. He’d been glad of it and certainly more grateful to her than he ever had been before. What happened after surprised him the most.

He’d treated her with tea and some of the fruit loaf he’d made a few days before, the kneading having helped give his wrists some sorely needed strength once more. She’d slapped his hands away, mind, while he was in pursuit of getting her this, and told him off even though he looked far more like her nephew clean shaven and dressed in different clothes and less like the sick child she’d walked in on. She’d then, in her excitement, devoured all of the ‘nonsense’ gifts she’d bought the two men, bemoaning the fact that the elder wasn’t there. It still bemused Baldric that she was so fond of Ben. He was half-jealous, too, which was utterly absurd.

Soon though he found himself surrounded by clothes but the more important gifts she’d put under the tree and two brightly decorated envelopes went on the mantelpiece with a wink and a laugh. She’d then folded everything up, seemingly recalling what belonged to whom and took it all into their room and distributed where Baldric directed. Then with a soppy kiss that he wasn’t really sure he liked very much she patted him on the head, patted Draco, who glared, and left in the whirlwind she arrived in. In truth, Baldric was glad for her to leave but he’d also been grateful for the company – even if she was mental.

Later, though, he’d prove to be much more grateful for the clothes she’d left and for her he’d wear them, even if it didn’t help him to feel better. After pulling a jumper over his head and tugging the collar out so that he at least looked semi-presentable, Baldric decided that his hair was about as good as it was ever going to get, seemingly because the cut had been in vain and it was long, thick and … Merlin he felt like he was fourteen again with hair coming out of his metaphorical ears. He was bloody glad for it, mind – because at least it was blonde – but he’d never before suffered with his magic undoing haircuts and the like.

Just being out in the open air did Baldric good and being with Ben was even better because, walking through the streets in an unknown suburb of the capital that he did vaguely recognise but couldn’t place, he felt as though he was entirely his equal again instead of a whining, irritable dependent. In the slightly brisk air that buffeted against his hot skin he felt rather clement. Snuggled in his jacket and chin in his scarf, also, he still had that element of heat that he’d seemed bereft of despite his fever earlier in the week. But just in being there, being able to walk in the open air with his fiancé … there was nothing in the world that could be better. Well, except for one thing, maybe.

They came to a stop and Baldric emerged from his daydream, the sights and smells of London rapidly entering back into his system. It was quieter here but across the way there was evidence, still, of the capital with queuing cars on an elevated road making their way down into Twickenham. Baldric clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Merlin, he missed Scotland. Still, he could dream of the Highlands another day because this was much more important. He looked around, his eyes falling to the sign and he unconsciously drew in closer to Ben, his hand coming to rest at the small of his lover’s back. Was this …?

Ben began to speak and Baldric, admittedly, only half-heard him. As his realisation dawned on him he began to look around, desperate to absorb every detail. He wanted to try to envisage a young Ben there, perhaps sat on the grass under a hot summer’s sun or peering through a window in a brisk winter. What his imagination conjured wasn’t something that Baldric found utterly palatable, however, and he quickly got rid of those thoughts. He hated the idea that Ben was alone as a child. He hated the idea that any of these children, still residing there, were alone and no one loved them.

Swallowing, Baldric nodded, processing his lover’s words. He wished, then, that he’d brought something for the children but he figured his wand was enough. He could make something pretty for them or change bits of naff wood and old leaves in the garden into something tangible that they could truly love. He didn’t know what it was but somehow within a few minutes, he’d gone from interested to utterly appalled and now he didn’t know, really, what to do with himself. He wanted to fix everything for them. He knew that he couldn’t have done anything for Ben and he felt ridiculous for smarting about it but somehow he still felt guilty, as though he could have and should have been able to do something. He never wanted other children to suffer like that. Ever.

“I … yeah,” Baldric mustered, nodding. “I don’t … I don’t want to upset them, though,” he grimaced. “You reckon it’ll be alright?”

Bentley draped his arm over Baldric's shoulders, pulling the blond (or, well, nearly properly blond by that point) closer into his side. "Maybe we should just go for the whole trick of letting them come to us?" he suggested slowly, uncertain even of his own idea. After all, what he had done for the place was not enough to qualify Ben to talk about it as though he understood the way things worked. He didn't. Not yet, anyway.

"Let's just... see what happens," he added, starting towards the low gate, Baldric more-or-less in tow. The metal barrier was pushed back, allowing them entry, and although Ben merely released it, the gate closed itself, effectively shutting them in with the little ones who so deserved the love they had not been given yet.

Upon reaching the front door, Ben gave Baldric's shoulder a gentle, affectionate squeeze before releasing him to lead the way inside. He held the door open until his lover had passed through, then shut the door quietly behind them. As though she could feel their presence, Miss Fern peeked out from her office, wondering who had dared make the trip on such a chilly afternoon. When she saw Ben, though, she straightened up and smiled. "Mr. Pierson!" she greeted brightly, walking out into the hall to meet them.

"This is Baldric Wood," Ben gestured in the younger man's direction. "My fiancé," he clarified, the words feeling somehow foreign yet wonderful at the same time. He hadn't ever said it aloud before. Actually, that was untrue. But he hadn't said it in front of Baldric before, so his ears threatened to turn red at the tips - and not just from walking inside and accepting the warmth that the outdoors had denied him, either.

The dark-haired woman beamed at Baldric, offering a hand. "Cassandra Fern. The kids just call me Miss Fern, though. So, whichever suits you is fine."

"Cass," Ben started, pleased that she was so warm towards the pair of them, "how have things been lately?"

She wouldn't have been around when Bentley was a child, of course, so Cassandra didn't know how much of an outcast he had believed himself to be at that age. So she assumed he meant between the time that she had last seen him and his arrival that day. And, in truth, his question was partly about that, but also more of a general question. He didn't complain when she replied, though. "Well, ever since your funding came through it's been much better. We were able to hire additional staff."

"Good," he nodded, proud to have been of some help. He did register the fact that he hadn't fully explained things to Baldric, but Ben figured that it was probably pretty obvious now. Pulling open his coat, he reached into his inner pocket and lifted out a small pouch. "I'm guessing the kids are inside?" he asked, waiting for Cassandra's nod before smiling. "Right, then!"

Ben reached for Baldric's hand, and tugged the blond down the hallway and into the main room of the building. It had been made into something of a play space for the children. "Here," he held the bag out towards Bae. "Enlarge this. It's got some... surprises inside for the kids."