(OOC: They're so bickery. Omg.)
The sight of Mai and the near-presence of their slumbering son, unaware of the turmoil unfolding within his father, did much to further soothe the young Rookwood. His little family was safe, at least, but he couldn’t help but ache for the scores of families he had so totally and completely failed. Closing his eyes, Theodore drew Mai into his embrace, letting his forehead rest against hers as he tried to steady his breathing. He had his girls. At least there was that, in that moment. His eyes flicked back open when Ben called out to his son and Theodore’s hand splayed further across the small of Mai’s back, hoping to settle her.
“Mai,” he breathed. “The train. It’s gone. Someone’s taken it. All those children, those smiling, excited children … I lost them. They were my responsibility and I lost them. After everything. All of the wards we put on the castle. All of the protection spells. Everything we did to make them safe … someone still got at them. Someone could still hurt them. I …” His lips trembled shut and he looked at her, his eyes boring into hers, searching for her opinion, searching for the reassurance that it wasn’t entirely his fault, that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it even though, after everything he had done, it felt as though he should’ve.
Elijah felt like an unwelcome voyeur on the situation. The little families repaired themselves, fusing back together. Baldric crossed the room with Eva in his arms to stand with Ben and their son. As professional as the little blonde he knew so well was attempting to be, at the sight of her own children, she too broke rank and swept to them, hauling them into her arms, rousing giggles and little protestations before releasing them and asking to be included in the game they were playing on the rug. And then there was himself, two of his children gone, three remaining, with Athena, the picture of peace, bouncing her goddaughter on her hip.
Where, Elijah thought miserably, was his waiting other half? Where was the other piece of his cracked soul? These people were like the two halves of wands. When brought back together, they became this homogenous mass, first as a duo, then with their children, and then as a wider family. They were a family. And he … he was alone. He had his boys, of course, and his precious, golden-haired girl … and he had his Fauve. He had his Thierry. But beyond that … merlin, it almost felt as though he could see their magic intermingling, reaching out and joining together, lifting them, making them stronger. He had known he led an odd life, that he led an unsettled and ultimately, quite possibly, unhappy life but … he’d never seen, before, what he didn’t have. And this was it.
“Buck up, Eli,” Athena murmured as she slid past him. “Fix your life another time.”
And, as she moved towards the rug to sit Alice down with Millie and the Hayes babies, Elijah felt the warmth of Athena’s presence slither out of his mind. He frowned a little and set down Cepheus and Caelum – unimpressed and unsettled to find her sitting at the back of his mind. But then, of course, as Augustus had illustrated, he was an open book – his anxieties leaking out of him. He lowered his eyes to the floor, taking a moment in isolation to try and settle himself, filtering out the chatter around him, although somehow Millie’s inquiry, aimed at her mother-in-law no doubt, as to whether or not her children had been good filtered through. He sighed, wondering if it was time to have a cigarette again. And to think, he’d been so good.
Elijah’s head shot up when Keiran spoke and lifted an eyebrow. His lips spread into a smirk without really any leave to do so. Athena shook her head, rolling her eyes affectedly to Millie who laughed a little before offering a block to Alice. It seemed that, regardless of his melancholy, Elijah was on board with that one. It was an easy way to make sure he was doing something productive, at least.
“Is he any good?” Millie whispered with a smirk of her own. Athena took a second to look scandalised before matching the blonde’s expression, giving a firm nod that widened Millie’s smile.
“I ask nicely, Keiran,” Elijah voiced with a chuckle. “Isn’t that what most people do? Women like the word ‘please.’”
“I don’t ever remember please entering into the sentence,” Theo quipped before he could help himself. “It was usually just that look, wasn’t it?” He turned back towards Mai, giving his best impression of the teenage-Elijah seduction face. He could barely last a second before his laugh bubbled up and split the stoic, come hither expression.
“Theo, Theo!” Athena called between her own laughter. “You forgot the chin thing.”
“Oh, yeah,” he inclined his chin upwards with a smirk, his eyes flitting over towards his old housemate in order to see if he’d gotten it right. Elijah’s cheeks were scarlet. Bingo. “Even had her,” he gestured to Athena, “all gooey for him. Although, mind you. If I remember correctly Ms. Goyle, you were just as bad.”
“Water under the bridge,” she waved her hand dismissively through the air, refusing to be teased. Theodore chuckled, leaning in to press his lips to Mai’s temple.
“Alright, alright,” Millie cautioned the three of them, looking up from the game. “C’mon, listen.” Her eyes flicked pointedly in Keiran’s direction before turning back to the three Slytherins who had become suitably attentive once more.
“Yes, Mrs Hayes,” Theodore nodded, setting Esme down so that she could hop over and play with the others. “Apologies.”
“How do we know this isn’t going to end in a bloodbath?” Elijah asked warily. “These are much of the same kids that got hurt last time the train was interfered with.” Theodore shuffled at little closer to Mai, shame tightening his body language. “We told the parents last time that something like that would never happen again, that Hogwarts was safe for their children. How on earth are we going to assuage fears when it’s so blatantly not true?”
“Because you’re there, Eli,” Millie said simply. “And, like them, your children are gone, too. You’re exactly like those parents. You’re going to assuage fears because you’re one of them but unlike them you can and will do something about it. By being just as scared as they are, you can make them feel like they’re heard, that they’re not voiceless, because there’s someone in the Ministry, in a position of power, who actually, personally understands what they’re going through. It’s not a throwaway connection to someone - they’re your children. And by swearing to get the train back, they’ll believe you because it’s not just going to be lip service. You want it back as much as they do, too.”
“That’s all well and good, Mills,” Theo interjected. “But … he’s right. How are they going to forgive … well, me?”
“You didn’t put up the wards, Theo,” Athena reminded him softly. “I did. I made the mistake. I should’ve put more wards on the train than I did. They should have been more closely interlinked. Something should’ve prevented this somewhere. So if you need an explanation for them … tell them it’s my fault.”
“Right,” he scoffed, his sarcasm evident. “And thereby gift you a one-way ticket back to Azkaban by popular vote? Do me a favour, Thea.”
“Well what else can you tell them?” She asked hotly. “Are you going to blame yourself, Theo? Because it’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either,” Elijah pointed out. “It’s not negligence that caused this, it’s the actions of someone else. And martyring yourselves just because you’re feeling guilty doesn’t help those kids on the train. Kieran's right -- we need to approach this together. Otherwise there’s no point in doing it at all.”