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girlyswotAnd here's the one you've all been waiting for...
How long he was underwater was hard to tell. It had to be under a minute because miraculously he did surface, gasping for breath and fighting the searing pain from the gash across his face. The Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen, so that was one problem solved, he thought as his hooves touched bottom. Hopefully he hadn’t drifted too far from the path back to the farmhouse.
He shook himself off and sent a silent word of thanks to George Weasley for the disguise that was also keeping him warm even while soaking wet. Blood was dripping on his white woolly chest, but there was nothing he could do about it until his hooves turned back into hands.
The transformation took place about halfway up the hill. His robes were still damp, causing him to shiver, but at least he could staunch the wound with his handkerchief.
“Wood! There are Death Eaters . . .” Lee Jordan stood in the path, gaping at him.
“Yeah. I saw them.” He swayed just a little.
Lee grabbed his arm.
“You brought Catherine back, lad?”
“Yup. Good thing, too,” Lee replied, looking at the cut on his face. “I think you’re going to need her.”
I’ll always need her, Will thought as they Disapparated together.
*
“That’s going to leave a scar,” Catherine scolded as she ran her wand over his cut. He felt the soothing magic trail from just under his ear and then curve halfway across his cheek.
“Sectumsempra,” George said from over her shoulder. “It’s what I got hit with. Hurts like a mother-f . . .”
“George!” Fred slapped him on the back of the head. “Witches are present.”
“I didn’t hear the incantation,” Will said. “And that’s Dark Magic I’ve never heard of.”
“No talking or you’ll tear the magic,” Catherine snapped. “It’s like you’ve been flayed.”
“Maybe it’s new and improved Dark Magic,” George suggested helpfully.
“It’s not new – it’s just Dark - and time sensitive,” Catherine said sharply. “If there hadn’t been such lag time I would have been able to heal it completely.”
Will thought that Catherine must still be upset from seeing Remus’s wife.
“Now, now. Will’s still good-looking,” George told her.
“Yes, an injury or a bit of scarring pulls the witches,” Fred continued.
“I should know,” George added.
Lee snorted at this false modesty.
“Will’s not so pretty anymore,” Fred said, pretending to look him over critically. “But he has a certain –“
“Dashing quality?”
“Yes, that’s it. Don’t you think so, Catherine?”
Her pale face flushed.
“Can I tell them to shut up now?” Will asked.
“You just did.” Catherine gave him a small smile, and then she sniffed. “What made you go out all alone, Will? You could have been killed.”
“Nah, Catherine,” Fred said, patting her on the shoulder. “Don’t forget – we –“
“- sent him out wrapped in cotton wool.”
Will laughed. “Aye, you did. And I thank you lads for it. It was brilliant magic and it saved my life”
Identical blushes rose on their pleased faces. Lee broke the silence. “I think we’d better move the two of you tonight. I know we promised three days in the farmhouse for appointments, but we’ve had a change of plans for Potterwatch.”
Will exchanged glances with Catherine. She looked so disappointed. She hated the constant traveling, but it reminded Will of his years with the Kestrels. Once she had told him that to her, home was a place, and she couldn’t understand how he could have felt stable and secure playing professional Quidditch. He wasn’t sure if she understood his explanation that to him home was about people. His teammates had been his home – wherever he was, he was with the blokes who had his back. That was ironic given the nature of his injury, but he still felt that way. Maybe it was a wizard thing.
Catherine sighed and glanced at Lee. “So you’re kicking us out?”
“We’ve found a better place for you,” he assured her.
“One without Death Eaters,” Fred added.
Will stood up. He was suddenly very tired. He hoped they didn’t have to fly too far.
“Don’t forget your Firewhisky,” George said.
A bit of a session sounded like a grand idea. He grabbed the neck of the bottle and happened to glance at Catherine. She looked just like Gran when he paced on her rug. “For medicinal purposes.” It was a lame excuse.
Fred tittered.
Her eyes traveled the length of his cut and her expression softened. “I suppose you’ve earned it.”
*
He didn’t have a chance to drink the Firewhisky he had earned or ask her about meeting Tonks, because they ended up flying all night. They went south and then to the coast, where the damp air smelled of salt. Lee had found them an abandoned cottage on a high cliff. It seemed that a wizarding couple had moved to Australia for the duration of the war, but had left the key of their holiday home with a member of ‘The Order’ in case someone needed it for sanctuary. “You’ll be just up the coastline from Shell Cottage. That’s where Fred and George’s oldest brother lives with his wife,” Lee explained. “He’ll be your contact person whilst you’re in that district.”
Will wondered just how many Weasleys there were. Surely they had half of the UK covered by now.
Catherine was thrilled with the cottage when they finally arrived at dawn. “I’ve always wanted to live by the sea!”
Will heard the dull, soothing sound of the waves when he went to unlock the curved front door. It was still too dark to see the view, but he had a feeling it must be spectacular. The house smelled stale and it was cold, but it was clean and quiet. He looked at the sofa longingly.
She flicked her wand at the fireplace. “You must be exhausted, Will. I’ll make up a bed for you.”
“I can do it,” he said, eying the narrow stairs that must lead to the bedrooms.
“Don’t be silly.” She briskly mounted the stairs. Will followed, blindly hanging on to the banister. The wound on his face felt tight and uncomfortable and his back throbbed from eight hours of flying. He just wanted to lie down.
“Um. I think there’s a problem.” Catherine was standing in the middle of a large room that made up the top level of the house. It was cozy with the warm yellow walls and sloped ceilings. He would have to remember to duck his head when getting into that big bed – that one bed in that one bedroom.
“I can sleep on the sofa,” he said.
“We’ll talk about it later.” She turned back the covers. “It’s your turn now. I slept most of the night.”
He was too tired to argue. He fell asleep to the sound of Catherine’s footsteps descending the stairs.
*
Afternoon sunlight streaming through the skylights woke him up. It took him a moment to remember where he was. There was the sound of the sea and those sloping ceilings . . .
He groaned. Now he remembered. There was only one bed. That sofa was going to be hell on his back, but he couldn’t let Catherine sleep down there.
He could smell something cooking. His stomach growled in anticipation. Catherine had certainly held up her end of the bargain. While they were rarely paid in gold, they were often given all sorts of food – from live chickens to fruits and vegetables lovingly preserved in glass jars. Catherine knew what to do with all of those random ingredients, which wasn’t surprising since most potion makers were good cooks. This smelled like stew simmering in a cauldron.
Maybe Catherine would be standing over it, the steam curling the lovelocks around her face. He smiled. Or maybe she would be rearranging the furniture. Everywhere they had stayed longer than two days, she had done something to make it more comfortable. Since this cottage was theirs until something else came up, she would probably go overboard.
Catherine was nowhere in the small kitchen or sitting room and the cauldron of soup was stirring itself. She had left a note:
Will,
Charlie has taken me to Monica Spinnet. It’s time for that baby to appear.
C
She had written the time: Two o’clock PM. It was now three in the afternoon.
He sighed. Catherine would be hours.
*
Will stretched out on the sofa after a boring evening of trying to find something worth listening to on the Wireless after Potterwatch was aired. He could have flown to Shell Cottage to meet yet another Weasley, but he was too tired and moody to be very social. It was rare that he and Catherine were ever apart for more than a few hours and it bothered him that he missed her so much.
He couldn’t remember ever missing anyone quite like he did now. When his wife left him after his injury, he had been too angry and hurt to miss her – now that he thought about it, he wondered if he had ever missed her.
He frowned. Certainly never during Quidditch season. He was always out with his mates or practicing or thinking about the next match. Maybe he hadn’t been the only wronged party in their divorce.
He sighed and closed his eyes. There was no point in reliving the past. He tried to think of pleasant things – the whoosh of a Quaffle as it ripped past the Keeper and entered the hoop, the intense blue of an Italian summer sky, the warm smell of spices and cooking . . .
He dreamed he was a sheep again – white and woolly with tottering legs. He was cowering behind a door not sure if that scratching sound was a wolf or not. It was hot and his wool was itchy. Was he in Italy? If so there wouldn’t be a wolf crouched ready to pounce, there would be a Veelaisma with sloe eyes and lush lips and dark curls. Which was more dangerous? He could wrestle the wolf, but the Veelaisma would sink her talons into his flesh and carry him away with her black wings . . .
His eyes snapped open with a start. The scratching was just some branches at the window and the nubby fabric on the sofa was what was making him itch.
He hated to dream. He sat up and put his head in hands.
“Oh, no! I didn’t take the key.”
He lifted his head. Catherine’s voice.
“You’ll have to wake him up then.”
“I hate to do that.”
“It’s all right,” Will called through the door. “I’m awake.” He started to unlock the door.
“Wait!”
That was Charlie’s voice.
“How do you know who we are?”
Will rolled his eyes. These “Order” people were all security-mad – not that he blamed them since so many had been tricked in the past – but it was one in the morning. “I know who you are!”
“Ask the security question,” Charlie ordered.
Will paused. They had never planned a security question.
“Ask her only something she would know,” Charlie said impatiently.
“Um. What’s my middle name?”
“Oliver,” she said promptly.
He started to turn the key in the lock, but Charlie was not satisfied. “Any Quidditch fan knows your middle name is Oliver, Mr. WOW.”
“Mr. WOW?” She giggled.
Will sighed. How he had hated that silly part of professional Quidditch. “Catherine, what did I find in the Enchanted Forest on Christmas Eve?”
“A red rose.”
There was a long pause.
“Okay, now a question for Will,” Charlie prompted.
“Whom did you give that rose to?” Her voice sounded wobbly.
“You.” He opened the door – to hell with security, he had to see her now.
In the light from the cottage he could see that her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. She was exhausted. He reached out one hand to her and to his surprise; she moved toward him and put her head against his chest. “Catherine?” he asked, gingerly putting his arms around her.
“Well,” Charlie said with a grin. “I see you two do know each other.”
“Thanks for seeing her safely home,” Will said gruffly.
“No problem. Now I have to go back and congratulate the new father of Justin Spinnet.”
Catherine didn’t rise to the bait, so Will protested for her. “I think the mum gets most of the credit at this point in the process.”
Charlie laughed. “I saw the stork on the chimney.” And with that he Disapparated.
“Catherine?” He lifted her chin. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. “What is it?” He shut the door with an impatient swipe and then led her to the sofa. “Tea?” he asked helplessly as he sat next to her.
She shook her head and wiped her eyes.
“Did it go okay? It was a long delivery – twelve hours.”
She nodded.
“Please say something,” he begged. “I’ve never seen you cry and I don’t like it.”
She took his hand and held it in her lap – something she had never done before. “I was just struck by something today - tonight,” she began haltingly. “And I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Ah.” His heart hurt for her. She wanted a baby. It was obvious to him now. But she would never have one because she was in love with –
“Will? Remember when you said that home wasn’t a place?”
Suddenly nothing was obvious to him. “Yes?”
“I realized that when you opened the door.”
He was still trying to fathom what she meant when she caressed his hand sending bolts of pleasure through him.
“I’ve been pushing you away and pushing you away, and I don’t want to anymore.” Her lips were trembling and she looked a little frightened.
As much as he wanted to lay her against the cushions and kiss away any ambivalence she was feeling, he knew he would regret it in the morning. She was exhausted and emotional and not thinking clearly.
He gently kissed her forehead. “You need to go to bed.”
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to leave,” he soothed, rubbing small circles on her back before he reluctantly stood up. She was practically asleep sitting up. “Upstairs now.” He led her to the bedroom.
“Sleep in the bed with me,” she murmured as she tumbled on to the pillows still fully dressed
He slipped off her shoes and drew the covers over her. He would go back to the itchy sofa.
“Will?”
He stopped in the middle of the room. “What?”
“We had a bargain. I won’t sleep if I know you’re on that sofa.”
He sighed and crawled into bed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any rest lying next to her. “Do you always get what you want?”
She wriggled against him. “I intend to from now on,” she answered drowsily.
*
For the second day in a row, sunlight from the skylights woke him up. This time he was fully dressed and this time Catherine was lying next to him. He turned on his side and propped his head on his elbow to look at her. Perfect ivory skin, pink parted lips, tumbled golden brown hair and a fine brow that was drawn in a perplexed frown. She was dreaming probably. Hopefully not of wolves and sheep.
He wondered how she was going to react to him today. Would she be embarrassed about revealing her feelings in a moment of fatigue? Or were those her true feelings? It didn’t seem possible that he could be the recipient of all that emotion. Surely there were other factors . . .
Her eyes were open and she was looking at him. “What are you thinking?” she asked, touching his face.
He didn’t wince at the question. Instead, he swallowed against the incredulous joy and gratitude welling up inside of him. Those were her true feelings – he could see it in her eyes. All that warm passion - just for him. “I –“
A flash of sliver burst into their bedroom. Will groaned. Another bloody Patronus.
He turned his head and yelped in surprise. It was a wolf.
“We need you at Shell Cottage,” said the wolf. “But don’t fly. I’m waiting outside to Side-Along Apparate you directly to the patient.”
They both sighed and exchanged resigned glances. There was nothing to do but climb out of bed and deal with the problem.
“That’s Bill Weasley’s Patronus,” Catherine remarked, hunting for her shoes under the bed.
“How do you know?”
“Lee told us, remember?” She held up one shoe in triumph.
He didn’t remember, but now he wondered what kind of person Bill Weasley was to have a wolf as a Patronus.
*
Will continued to wonder what kind of person Bill Weasley was after he Side-Apparated him directly into an upstairs corridor. Every door leading off of it was closed, but there was one widow at the opposite end of the stairs. Through it he could see that there were people outside of Shell Cottage - and it looked like they were digging.
Bill obviously didn’t want them to see who the people were or what they were digging for. If he hadn’t met the other Weasley brothers, Will would have guessed that Bill was having a grave dug. This oldest Weasley certainly looked capable of killing with all of those scars marring his face.
Bill’s wife, Fleur, compounded the weirdness of the situation when she joined them in the corridor. She blocked his view out the window while they waited for Bill to return with Catherine.
Will didn’t try to make small talk. There was so much suppressed tension in Fleur that he thought she would lash out if he so much as commented on the weather.
When Catherine arrived, her eyes darted from him to Fleur and then she raised her eyebrows.
“In here,” Bill said, opening one of the doors.
Will recognized Mr. Ollivander, the wandmaker who had been missing for over a year. Had Bill and Fleur been keeping him captive here all of this time?”
“The ‘ealers are ‘ere,” Fleur announced.
Mr. Ollivander’s eyes fluttered open as Catherine ran her wand over him. Her mouth tightened when she scanned his abdomen. Will put his hand on hers so he could see the imaging as well. There was a mass lodged near his liver. Mr. Ollivander didn’t have many months to live.
They exchanged glances and Will dropped his hand from her wand. “We’re going to make you a Strengthening Potion.”
“I need one,” Mr. Ollivander said. “Been in the Malfoy dungeons for months.”
He had been wrong about Bill Weasley, Will realized. He had probably done something heroic to have Mr. Ollivander safely in this house.
Catherine opened her Healer’s bag and took out the portable cauldron. They all watched as she deftly measured the ingredients Will provided and then stirred the potion. She was getting faster, Will realized. Those days at the clinic when he had impatiently waited for her to make a potion seemed so long ago.
“You’ll need to drink the whole goblet,” Catherine told him.
Mr. Ollivander frowned, but did what he was told. A little color returned to his face.
“Do you have the ingredients to make a Strengthening Potion?” Will asked Fleur who wasn’t looking any happier at having her patient on the road to recovery. “He’ll have to have a goblet three times a day.”
Fleur hissed some sort of assent.
“Will?” Catherine asked.
He turned toward her; relieved he didn’t need to engage in further conversation with Fleur.
“Do you have your wand with you? Mr. Ollivander said he would look at it.”
“If it wasn’t broken by magic then it’s usually repairable,” Mr. Ollivander said, looking with interest as Will brought out his snapped wand.
“Oh yes, mahogany and Abraxan hair.” He frowned at it. “A powerful combination, but not the best wand for a Healer.” Mr. Ollivander put the wand on his lap. “May I borrow your wand my dear?”
Catherine handed over her wand and then watched as Mr. Ollivander did some complicated movements and muttered a long incantation. Will wished they could repair fractures that way – the wood suddenly glowed and then fused together again. It was a nice trick.
Mr. Ollivander smiled in satisfaction. “There you go, Mr. Wood. It’s useable, but still fragile at the mended point.”
Just like his back.
“If you ever have a chance to purchase a new wand, I suggest something more flexible. I don’t think this one suits you anymore.”
Will nodded. He longed to ask Mr. Ollivander what he meant, but the patient was looking tired.
“What’s your first magic going to be?” Bill Weasley asked once they were in the corridor again. Now that they were leaving, he seemed a lot friendlier.
“I’m going to take Catherine home,” Will replied.
*
They Apparated back to the cottage without incident, but as soon as they walked in the door, Will knew something had changed. Without looking at him, Catherine stowed her Healer’s bag in the small cupboard and briskly started making breakfast. “The Spinnets sent some eggs and milk over. Would you like an omelet?”
He was hungry, but what he really wanted was to pick up where they had left off this morning. Preferably in bed – preferably with nothing on.
Since that seemed a remote possibility until breakfast was over, he decided to help things along. “Now that my wand is mended, I can actually be of some use.”
“You’ve always been useful.” She sounded annoyed.
He winced as she cracked one egg so hard against the edge of the bowl that it shattered in her hand. Before she could reach for a towel, he took out his wand and cast a cleaning charm.
She was less than grateful. “Still quicker than anyone, I see.”
He crossed his arms in front of himself. “All right, what did I do?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “Absolutely nothing.”
‘Nothing’ hung in the air in the long silence that followed. “Are you talking about last night?” he finally asked.
“Oh, you mean the part where I threw myself at you and you did nothing?” She slammed a frying pan on to the hob and jabbed her wand under it.
He took out his wand and doused the flame. “You didn’t throw yourself at me. I’ve had witches throw themselves at me – “
“Oh, my mistake. Did I miss the ritual throwing of the underwear in your face first?”
“Catherine.” He wanted to laugh since she had such a distorted view of what his Quidditch life had been like.
“What? Mr. WOW?”
“Now wait a minute. I never liked that part –“
“But you still seem to like flirting with a pretty woman no matter where she is.”
She had given up any pretense of cooking and he had given up any pretense of calm reasonableness.
“What are you talking about?”
“This morning! The way you were talking to Fleur Weasley. You looked dumbstruck just standing next to her.”
“That’s because she was bloody scary!” Sparks were flashing out of his wand, so he put it on the counter. “The whole situation was weird.”
“But you don’t deny she’s beautiful.” She crossed her arms in front of herself.
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice. She has that Veela-I’m-going-to-turn-on-you-look, which I don’t find attractive at all.”
Catherine snorted in disbelief. “So what do you find attractive?”
Now was his chance. “Not what – who.”
She colored and looked away. “Not me – not last night.”
“You didn’t seem upset this morning when we woke up together,” he said with genuine confusion. “I thought –“
“I was jealous – okay? I saw you with that beautiful woman and even though you weren’t doing a thing I still felt jealous.”
He gaped at her.
“I know.” She turned away from him and deliberately placed her wand on the counter with trembling fingers. “I don’t expect you to understand since you’ve never been jealous of anyone in you life.”
“I’m jealous of your ex-husband,” he blurted. “Maybe not so much now – I don’t know. But for a while there I hated him.”
She swung around to face him. “You hated him?”
“I did. I hated how you were still in love with him and I didn’t have a chance. But then I met him and I couldn’t hate him after that.”
“You met him?” she echoed.
“At the farmhouse the other night.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I meant to tell you, but there hasn’t been time to talk.”
She nodded.
“I don’t hate him,” he repeated. “I couldn’t hate him. He’s a lot like you.”
“Like me?” Her eyes were wide.
“He’s serious, but kind. Intelligent. He’d take responsibility for everything if you’d let him.”
“That’s why Tonks is good for him,” Catherine said. “She’s one of those jolly broomsticks kind of girls.” Her smile was twisted. “I was never like that.”
She looked so forlorn that he felt he had to risk it. “That’s one of the many things I love about you,” he said quietly.
Color rose in her face. “Will, I’m not still in love with him.”
Something eased in his chest. “Oh.”
“I can’t be in love with two men at the same time.”
She was so serious, so defenseless in telling him this. He held out his arms and she slowly walked into his embrace as if she still wasn’t sure.
“What is it?”
“What if - ” Her eyes searched his face. “With your wand restored you won’t need me anymore.”
Now that she said it, he wasn’t surprised. “I’ll always need you.”
It wasn’t enough – he could tell by the way she was biting her lip and holding herself away from him. He decided to give her something practical to think about. “Why do you think Mr. Ollivander said my wand didn’t suit me anymore?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Probably because you’ve changed since you were eleven.”
“No, really.”
“Really.” She put her hand on his chest to emphasize her point. “You’ve changed since I’ve known you.”
“Oh? How?” Now that she was distracted he could draw her closer with his arms resting loosely around her waist.
“You’re not so impatient. Not so quick to judge a situation. Maybe you’re not so driven.”
He looked down his nose at her. “Maybe it was the potion-induced coma.”
She laughed and shyly put her arms around his neck. “You’re well-named.”
“Mr. WOW?”
She laughed again. “That has yet to be decided – I mean your first name. Will. You have a strong will to do things and sometimes that’s good -”
He swooped down and kissed her for the first time. He was being too quick, too forceful, too greedy, but he couldn’t take another minute of her sweetly earnest talking without doing something.
Her mouth was warm and compliant and altogether intoxicating. Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone for over a year, but from the first touch of his lips on hers he felt that this was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him. She was so responsive - running her hand under his collar, making little breathy noises, and rubbing against him. If they kept going like this he was afraid it would all be over before it began.
He broke away. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“The sofa is itchy,” she agreed.
The upstairs seemed far away – but they eventually made it to the bed, shedding clothes as they went. She was more lovely than he had ever imagined, and more passionate. So much so, that to his chagrin, he felt like an eager teenager rather than someone who had actually been with a woman before. But then, he had never been with someone he loved. He knew that now. “Still too quick,” he said ruefully when they finally rolled apart.
She pounced on to his chest. Her eyes were glowing and she looked as happy as he felt. “What was your record for goals scored in one match?”
He laughed and tangled his hands in her hair. “I always enjoyed the challenge of improving my record.”
“This time you’ll need me to help,” she said, smiling and touching her nose to his.
He looked directly in her eyes, willing her to believe him. “I’ll always need you.”
Her eyes glistened and her lips trembled with emotion. She believed him now. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
*
They managed to squeeze dinner “in between matches” that first glorious day. No Patronuses visited them for three days, so their time in the cottage felt like a wonderful holiday by the sea – with a bit of bad weather as an excuse to stay indoors.
Once the Patronuses did start to come, they decided to divide the workload. Now that Will had a wand they would be able to do more for their patients – more follow ups and more preventative care rather than just responding to emergencies. Catherine was especially concerned about the many pregnant witches who were due around the same time – Tonks included.
“She’s a Metamorphmagus,” she explained to Will when they were working out some appointment times one rainy morning in April after breakfast.
“Is the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” There were all sorts of complications for a mother with that condition since the stress of delivery could make her spontaneously change her anatomy. It didn’t always happen, but it could. The same could happen for the child.
“She has to have a Healer – a midwife doesn’t know the charms to see what’s happening.”
“Of course.” He was probably being too quick again, but he didn’t think he’d change his mind in this. “Let me be the Healer. Let me do this for you, Catherine.”
She bit her lip. “It’s not because I don’t want them to be happy – or that I want what they have. I want them to have the best possible life.”
“I know that.” He put his hand over hers. “It’s just weird, Catherine – to have you there. You don’t want to distract her or him.”
She nodded.
Will was proud of her. She was starting to realize she couldn’t take responsibility for everything.
*
“You have to let him help you,” Remus said to Tonks as she lay panting on the bed. Will had just done another scan with his wand and with every contraction the birth canal was changing in width and length. His grip on his wand was sweaty. No wonder Metamorphmaguses were so rare. This was going to be tricky even if Tonks did consent.
“But freezing?” Tonks’ dark eyes were glazed with pain. “Isn’t that cheating?”
Remus frowned. “Cheating for what? There’s no mark given at the end of this.”
“But it’s not natural childbirth,” she said stubbornly.
Will exchanged a glance with Remus, who seemed to have run out of encouraging things to say. How he wished Catherine were here to talk soothing sense into her ear.
“Magic is natural,” Will finally said. “For thirty minutes that part of your body won’t change. I’m guessing other parts will – since that’s a natural stress reaction for a Metamorphmagus.”
“My nose used to change during exams,” Tonks said, and then gritted her teeth as another contraction wracked her body.
“You wouldn’t have minded charming your nose to stay put for thirty minutes, would you?” Will asked.
“No.” Her voice was weary.
“And would you mind if you couldn’t feel your nose for that thirty minutes?”
She smiled slightly. “No.”
He heaved a relieved sigh. “When you’re fully dilated, we’ll do it.”
Two hours later, Will was muttering to himself, trying to gauge the rhythm of the changes. He had only a split second to wave his wand before everything changed again. Finally he found the moment. Without another thought, he cast the spell.
Tonks gasped as she was suddenly freed from the grip of pain. Her entire body relaxed. “My God, why didn’t you do that sooner?”
Remus laughed. “That’s what I was wondering.”
After twenty minutes, with a bit of coaxing, Teddy Lupin slipped into the world. He was crying, his mother was smiling, and his father was doing a bit of both.
*
Teddy Lupin and Justin Spinnet weren’t the only babies they delivered that spring. There were three births in their district in the first week of May alone. ‘Lambing season’ was how Will thought of it.
Tonight Will was flying through the fog to a witch who was expecting twins. He didn’t think she would have any difficulties, but she was delivering early. The babies would be his primary concern.
He peered through the mist and spotted the dilapidated cottage where “the Joneses” were hiding. Every time he visited a witch or wizard in hiding, it gave him pause. What kind of world was waiting for these babies? And how long could their parents protect them?
He tried to shake off the feeling that something was going to happen – and soon. What that something was, he didn't know, but everyone involved with Potterwatch was on edge.
The gravel crunched under his feet when he landed. A huge wolfhound lunged toward him, baring its teeth.
Will was prepared since had visited before. He threw the conjured ball he had tucked in his robes as hard as he could. The wolfhound took off after it in the fog, barking happily.
The Joneses needed a better watchdog.
The delivery went quickly and smoothly. The babies – two identical girls with masses of dark hair – were healthy enough, but small. Will taught the grandmother how to renew the Bubble-head Charm he had placed around them, and then he packed his things. It was only past twelve – a short night for lambing season.
Once outside he conjured another ball for the wolfhound. He wished he knew its name – or the names of the twin girls for that matter. It seemed wrong to know so much and yet so little about the people under his care.
The mist had lifted so he could see the dog chasing after the glowing ball. Normally he would have grinned at the sight, but tonight he wondered if what he was doing was as futile as chasing a conjured ball.
He was getting impatient – that was his problem, he realized. As far as he knew there was no master plan to defeat the Death Eaters or to seize the Ministry or to try to kill the Dark Lord. When he tried to talk to Oliver about what “The Order” or the Potterwatch contributors were planning, they brushed him off. He was on a need-to-know basis.
Will thought he needed to know a lot more than he did.
The wolfhound triumphantly brought the ball back to Will and wagged his tail. Catherine thought he was learning patience. He smirked. If he was, then it was a gradual process that only a patient person could see.
The dog nudged him with its nose and dropped the ball at his feet.
“The ball’s in my end of the Pitch again, eh?” He gave it his best ‘hail Merlin’ throw. The wolfhound leaped in the air and then tore after it.
Will smiled and mounted his broom. He really was a simple man. That throw would have easily gone the length of a Pitch, and it pleased him that he still had it.
*
The waiting for ‘something to happen’ was over with a chilling message from Charlie Weasley that came later that night.
It’s happening at Hogwarts. We need you.
*
Never in his life had he been caught up in such a whirl of motion. And never in his life had he had to clamp down on his emotions and focus on what he was doing.
Staunching Charm – check for vitals. Smile reassuringly and move on.
Perhaps his dread and panic were kept at bay because Catherine was with him. As long as they were together, it would be okay. It wasn’t logical, but it helped him concentrate.
They hurried from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, stopping to treat the injured along the way. By the time they reached the castle, the battle was over and the Dark Lord was dead – at least that’s what Will gathered as they picked their way over broken glass, smashed potted plants and flapping books to enter the Entrance Hall.
His heart leaped when he saw Oliver, carrying a limp figure over his shoulder. He hadn’t realized how worried he had been about his nephew. Oliver. What if -
Focus.
There were more wounded within the castle – with a vast array of injuries. Madam Pomfrey had already triaged the victims and had arranged for helpers. Will was glad for her guidance. If St. Mungo’s ever wanted a practical exam to test their Healers’ abilities, then this was it. Every type of magic had been used to defend or attack – and that same magic had taken its toll on healthy bodies.
Eventually, the sun rose higher in the sky and their work came to an end. It was time to eat and rest.
As he ate his ham sandwich, sitting at a table with Catherine, he heard two names. They stood out in the babble of voices around them.
Remus Lupin. Tonks.
Catherine put her sandwich down in shock. It couldn’t be true.
It was.
The last time he had seen Remus and Tonks they were standing over their son’s cradle, beaming with pride as he trickled an immunization potion into their baby’s mouth.
Now they were quiet and still.
Catherine had her hand over her mouth as she looked at the white, waxy face of her former husband. She had loved him once.
Not knowing what to do, Will put his arm around her.
“I never thought –“ she began.
“Aye.”
“I never thought I’d know the end . . . .” Her voice broke. “I thought his life would go on like mine. We just wouldn’t be together.”
“I know.”
“He’s not alone, though,” Catherine whispered. “He was always so alone.”
Tonks had died with him. Will couldn’t fathom it. Who had said goodbye? Did one of them have to endure the heartbreak of seeing the other die?
He looked away and saw George Weasley crouched over his twin.
Catherine’s gaze followed his and her eyes darkened with sympathy.
When he had hurt his back and he had to bury his dream of playing Quidditch, he had thought nothing else could ever happen to him that would touch him that deeply – either good or bad.
He was wrong.
George Weasley would find that out, too. But not today – not for a long while. Some types of healing took longer than others.
He led her away from the dead, past the broken hourglasses, and through the open doors of Hogwarts. The wolf that had been plaguing them all was dead, and now it was time to rebuild the house.
Epilogue – Fifteen Years Later
“Will do stop pacing. That’s the rug your Gran bequeathed you.”
He looked in surprise at his feet. He hadn’t realized that he had been pacing while waiting for his son’s first owl from Hogwarts. “She did say in her will that she was giving me her half-worn rug so I would finish the job.”
Catherine put down her quill and joined him at the window. “I’m impatient, too. And so is Clare. She’s out on that broom of yours. She thought she might see Kay first if she was flying.”
Kay, Douglas’s new owl, had never flown from Scotland to Cliffside and Clare was worried her wings would be tired.
Clare liked to fuss like her mother.
“I see his owl!” Catherine said excitedly. “Open the window, Will.”
Clare swooped down next to the open window. “Mum! Dad! Douglas’s owl is here.”
“I see that,” Will said smiling at his daughter. Her dark hair was windblown and her mossy green eyes were shining with excitement.
“What does Douglas say, Mum?” she craned her head to see the letter Catherine was reading. “Does he like being in Gryffindor? Did anyone make fun of his legs or the magical braces Oliver designed?”
Catherine looked up from the letter she had been rapidly devouring. “No, he doesn’t say anything like that. So far he’s listed everything he ate at the Welcoming Feast.” She gave Will a side-long glance. “Sounds like his father.”
He grinned.
“A girl passed him a note in potions.”
“Who is she? Has he kissed her yet?”
“Clare!” Will was astonished his ten-year-old daughter was thinking about such things. “Douglas is a first year – much too young to be thinking about witches, never mind kissing one.”
Clare was about to chat back when Catherine interrupted them. “No one has teased Douglas. But he did get his leg caught in the trip step –“
“I knew I should have warned him about the stairs!” Will slapped his palm against his forehead. “I was thinking last night –“
“And a Hufflepuff prefect helped him,” Catherine continued, her eyes scanning the page.
“I’ve heard Hufflepuffs are nice,” Clare said. “I hope I’m sorted into that house. Gryffindors might be brave, but I don’t think they’re as nice.”
Will raised his eyebrows, but he was only mildly surprised - Clare found a new way to be contrary every day. “But don’t you want to be on the best Quidditch team?”
“If I’m on a team, I’ll make sure it’s the best one,” she declared.
Will laughed.
“But –“ Clare frowned as she thought more about the Hufflepuff scenario. “I wouldn’t want to play against my own brother.”
“Will!” Catherine stared at the letter in shock. “Do you know who helped him?”
“Who?”
“Teddy Lupin.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s the Hufflepuff prefect. He was helping our boy.”
He swallowed a lump of emotion as he was carried back to those years when they were all vulnerable sheep. They still were – but it was impossible to be cynical when the world that could be so cruel, could also be so unexpectedly kind.
“Whose Teddy Lupin?” Clare demanded.
A very good boy. Will cleared his throat and met Catherine’s eyes. “It’s a long story – and one you should know.”
*
A/N: Onlymoonette1 would be cruel enough to give Will and Catherine another challenge at the end of her story Air. Douglas Wood is her OC, Clare Wood is Secret Santa’s. moonette describes a lovely seaside home for Will – I stole that, too, but I had Ron remodel when the children came along.
Even though Secret Santa isn’t as cruel asmoonette1, SS does have faults. One is being incapable of reading a drabble by gabrielladusult and not stealing a character. Justin Spinnet is her OC. Secret Santa also has trouble meeting deadlines and writing within a reasonable word count. Thanks to girlyswot for stringing you all along while I ignored the elves and finally finished this.
Merry Christmas!
How long he was underwater was hard to tell. It had to be under a minute because miraculously he did surface, gasping for breath and fighting the searing pain from the gash across his face. The Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen, so that was one problem solved, he thought as his hooves touched bottom. Hopefully he hadn’t drifted too far from the path back to the farmhouse.
He shook himself off and sent a silent word of thanks to George Weasley for the disguise that was also keeping him warm even while soaking wet. Blood was dripping on his white woolly chest, but there was nothing he could do about it until his hooves turned back into hands.
The transformation took place about halfway up the hill. His robes were still damp, causing him to shiver, but at least he could staunch the wound with his handkerchief.
“Wood! There are Death Eaters . . .” Lee Jordan stood in the path, gaping at him.
“Yeah. I saw them.” He swayed just a little.
Lee grabbed his arm.
“You brought Catherine back, lad?”
“Yup. Good thing, too,” Lee replied, looking at the cut on his face. “I think you’re going to need her.”
I’ll always need her, Will thought as they Disapparated together.
*
“That’s going to leave a scar,” Catherine scolded as she ran her wand over his cut. He felt the soothing magic trail from just under his ear and then curve halfway across his cheek.
“Sectumsempra,” George said from over her shoulder. “It’s what I got hit with. Hurts like a mother-f . . .”
“George!” Fred slapped him on the back of the head. “Witches are present.”
“I didn’t hear the incantation,” Will said. “And that’s Dark Magic I’ve never heard of.”
“No talking or you’ll tear the magic,” Catherine snapped. “It’s like you’ve been flayed.”
“Maybe it’s new and improved Dark Magic,” George suggested helpfully.
“It’s not new – it’s just Dark - and time sensitive,” Catherine said sharply. “If there hadn’t been such lag time I would have been able to heal it completely.”
Will thought that Catherine must still be upset from seeing Remus’s wife.
“Now, now. Will’s still good-looking,” George told her.
“Yes, an injury or a bit of scarring pulls the witches,” Fred continued.
“I should know,” George added.
Lee snorted at this false modesty.
“Will’s not so pretty anymore,” Fred said, pretending to look him over critically. “But he has a certain –“
“Dashing quality?”
“Yes, that’s it. Don’t you think so, Catherine?”
Her pale face flushed.
“Can I tell them to shut up now?” Will asked.
“You just did.” Catherine gave him a small smile, and then she sniffed. “What made you go out all alone, Will? You could have been killed.”
“Nah, Catherine,” Fred said, patting her on the shoulder. “Don’t forget – we –“
“- sent him out wrapped in cotton wool.”
Will laughed. “Aye, you did. And I thank you lads for it. It was brilliant magic and it saved my life”
Identical blushes rose on their pleased faces. Lee broke the silence. “I think we’d better move the two of you tonight. I know we promised three days in the farmhouse for appointments, but we’ve had a change of plans for Potterwatch.”
Will exchanged glances with Catherine. She looked so disappointed. She hated the constant traveling, but it reminded Will of his years with the Kestrels. Once she had told him that to her, home was a place, and she couldn’t understand how he could have felt stable and secure playing professional Quidditch. He wasn’t sure if she understood his explanation that to him home was about people. His teammates had been his home – wherever he was, he was with the blokes who had his back. That was ironic given the nature of his injury, but he still felt that way. Maybe it was a wizard thing.
Catherine sighed and glanced at Lee. “So you’re kicking us out?”
“We’ve found a better place for you,” he assured her.
“One without Death Eaters,” Fred added.
Will stood up. He was suddenly very tired. He hoped they didn’t have to fly too far.
“Don’t forget your Firewhisky,” George said.
A bit of a session sounded like a grand idea. He grabbed the neck of the bottle and happened to glance at Catherine. She looked just like Gran when he paced on her rug. “For medicinal purposes.” It was a lame excuse.
Fred tittered.
Her eyes traveled the length of his cut and her expression softened. “I suppose you’ve earned it.”
*
He didn’t have a chance to drink the Firewhisky he had earned or ask her about meeting Tonks, because they ended up flying all night. They went south and then to the coast, where the damp air smelled of salt. Lee had found them an abandoned cottage on a high cliff. It seemed that a wizarding couple had moved to Australia for the duration of the war, but had left the key of their holiday home with a member of ‘The Order’ in case someone needed it for sanctuary. “You’ll be just up the coastline from Shell Cottage. That’s where Fred and George’s oldest brother lives with his wife,” Lee explained. “He’ll be your contact person whilst you’re in that district.”
Will wondered just how many Weasleys there were. Surely they had half of the UK covered by now.
Catherine was thrilled with the cottage when they finally arrived at dawn. “I’ve always wanted to live by the sea!”
Will heard the dull, soothing sound of the waves when he went to unlock the curved front door. It was still too dark to see the view, but he had a feeling it must be spectacular. The house smelled stale and it was cold, but it was clean and quiet. He looked at the sofa longingly.
She flicked her wand at the fireplace. “You must be exhausted, Will. I’ll make up a bed for you.”
“I can do it,” he said, eying the narrow stairs that must lead to the bedrooms.
“Don’t be silly.” She briskly mounted the stairs. Will followed, blindly hanging on to the banister. The wound on his face felt tight and uncomfortable and his back throbbed from eight hours of flying. He just wanted to lie down.
“Um. I think there’s a problem.” Catherine was standing in the middle of a large room that made up the top level of the house. It was cozy with the warm yellow walls and sloped ceilings. He would have to remember to duck his head when getting into that big bed – that one bed in that one bedroom.
“I can sleep on the sofa,” he said.
“We’ll talk about it later.” She turned back the covers. “It’s your turn now. I slept most of the night.”
He was too tired to argue. He fell asleep to the sound of Catherine’s footsteps descending the stairs.
*
Afternoon sunlight streaming through the skylights woke him up. It took him a moment to remember where he was. There was the sound of the sea and those sloping ceilings . . .
He groaned. Now he remembered. There was only one bed. That sofa was going to be hell on his back, but he couldn’t let Catherine sleep down there.
He could smell something cooking. His stomach growled in anticipation. Catherine had certainly held up her end of the bargain. While they were rarely paid in gold, they were often given all sorts of food – from live chickens to fruits and vegetables lovingly preserved in glass jars. Catherine knew what to do with all of those random ingredients, which wasn’t surprising since most potion makers were good cooks. This smelled like stew simmering in a cauldron.
Maybe Catherine would be standing over it, the steam curling the lovelocks around her face. He smiled. Or maybe she would be rearranging the furniture. Everywhere they had stayed longer than two days, she had done something to make it more comfortable. Since this cottage was theirs until something else came up, she would probably go overboard.
Catherine was nowhere in the small kitchen or sitting room and the cauldron of soup was stirring itself. She had left a note:
Will,
Charlie has taken me to Monica Spinnet. It’s time for that baby to appear.
C
She had written the time: Two o’clock PM. It was now three in the afternoon.
He sighed. Catherine would be hours.
*
Will stretched out on the sofa after a boring evening of trying to find something worth listening to on the Wireless after Potterwatch was aired. He could have flown to Shell Cottage to meet yet another Weasley, but he was too tired and moody to be very social. It was rare that he and Catherine were ever apart for more than a few hours and it bothered him that he missed her so much.
He couldn’t remember ever missing anyone quite like he did now. When his wife left him after his injury, he had been too angry and hurt to miss her – now that he thought about it, he wondered if he had ever missed her.
He frowned. Certainly never during Quidditch season. He was always out with his mates or practicing or thinking about the next match. Maybe he hadn’t been the only wronged party in their divorce.
He sighed and closed his eyes. There was no point in reliving the past. He tried to think of pleasant things – the whoosh of a Quaffle as it ripped past the Keeper and entered the hoop, the intense blue of an Italian summer sky, the warm smell of spices and cooking . . .
He dreamed he was a sheep again – white and woolly with tottering legs. He was cowering behind a door not sure if that scratching sound was a wolf or not. It was hot and his wool was itchy. Was he in Italy? If so there wouldn’t be a wolf crouched ready to pounce, there would be a Veelaisma with sloe eyes and lush lips and dark curls. Which was more dangerous? He could wrestle the wolf, but the Veelaisma would sink her talons into his flesh and carry him away with her black wings . . .
His eyes snapped open with a start. The scratching was just some branches at the window and the nubby fabric on the sofa was what was making him itch.
He hated to dream. He sat up and put his head in hands.
“Oh, no! I didn’t take the key.”
He lifted his head. Catherine’s voice.
“You’ll have to wake him up then.”
“I hate to do that.”
“It’s all right,” Will called through the door. “I’m awake.” He started to unlock the door.
“Wait!”
That was Charlie’s voice.
“How do you know who we are?”
Will rolled his eyes. These “Order” people were all security-mad – not that he blamed them since so many had been tricked in the past – but it was one in the morning. “I know who you are!”
“Ask the security question,” Charlie ordered.
Will paused. They had never planned a security question.
“Ask her only something she would know,” Charlie said impatiently.
“Um. What’s my middle name?”
“Oliver,” she said promptly.
He started to turn the key in the lock, but Charlie was not satisfied. “Any Quidditch fan knows your middle name is Oliver, Mr. WOW.”
“Mr. WOW?” She giggled.
Will sighed. How he had hated that silly part of professional Quidditch. “Catherine, what did I find in the Enchanted Forest on Christmas Eve?”
“A red rose.”
There was a long pause.
“Okay, now a question for Will,” Charlie prompted.
“Whom did you give that rose to?” Her voice sounded wobbly.
“You.” He opened the door – to hell with security, he had to see her now.
In the light from the cottage he could see that her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. She was exhausted. He reached out one hand to her and to his surprise; she moved toward him and put her head against his chest. “Catherine?” he asked, gingerly putting his arms around her.
“Well,” Charlie said with a grin. “I see you two do know each other.”
“Thanks for seeing her safely home,” Will said gruffly.
“No problem. Now I have to go back and congratulate the new father of Justin Spinnet.”
Catherine didn’t rise to the bait, so Will protested for her. “I think the mum gets most of the credit at this point in the process.”
Charlie laughed. “I saw the stork on the chimney.” And with that he Disapparated.
“Catherine?” He lifted her chin. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. “What is it?” He shut the door with an impatient swipe and then led her to the sofa. “Tea?” he asked helplessly as he sat next to her.
She shook her head and wiped her eyes.
“Did it go okay? It was a long delivery – twelve hours.”
She nodded.
“Please say something,” he begged. “I’ve never seen you cry and I don’t like it.”
She took his hand and held it in her lap – something she had never done before. “I was just struck by something today - tonight,” she began haltingly. “And I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Ah.” His heart hurt for her. She wanted a baby. It was obvious to him now. But she would never have one because she was in love with –
“Will? Remember when you said that home wasn’t a place?”
Suddenly nothing was obvious to him. “Yes?”
“I realized that when you opened the door.”
He was still trying to fathom what she meant when she caressed his hand sending bolts of pleasure through him.
“I’ve been pushing you away and pushing you away, and I don’t want to anymore.” Her lips were trembling and she looked a little frightened.
As much as he wanted to lay her against the cushions and kiss away any ambivalence she was feeling, he knew he would regret it in the morning. She was exhausted and emotional and not thinking clearly.
He gently kissed her forehead. “You need to go to bed.”
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to leave,” he soothed, rubbing small circles on her back before he reluctantly stood up. She was practically asleep sitting up. “Upstairs now.” He led her to the bedroom.
“Sleep in the bed with me,” she murmured as she tumbled on to the pillows still fully dressed
He slipped off her shoes and drew the covers over her. He would go back to the itchy sofa.
“Will?”
He stopped in the middle of the room. “What?”
“We had a bargain. I won’t sleep if I know you’re on that sofa.”
He sighed and crawled into bed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any rest lying next to her. “Do you always get what you want?”
She wriggled against him. “I intend to from now on,” she answered drowsily.
*
For the second day in a row, sunlight from the skylights woke him up. This time he was fully dressed and this time Catherine was lying next to him. He turned on his side and propped his head on his elbow to look at her. Perfect ivory skin, pink parted lips, tumbled golden brown hair and a fine brow that was drawn in a perplexed frown. She was dreaming probably. Hopefully not of wolves and sheep.
He wondered how she was going to react to him today. Would she be embarrassed about revealing her feelings in a moment of fatigue? Or were those her true feelings? It didn’t seem possible that he could be the recipient of all that emotion. Surely there were other factors . . .
Her eyes were open and she was looking at him. “What are you thinking?” she asked, touching his face.
He didn’t wince at the question. Instead, he swallowed against the incredulous joy and gratitude welling up inside of him. Those were her true feelings – he could see it in her eyes. All that warm passion - just for him. “I –“
A flash of sliver burst into their bedroom. Will groaned. Another bloody Patronus.
He turned his head and yelped in surprise. It was a wolf.
“We need you at Shell Cottage,” said the wolf. “But don’t fly. I’m waiting outside to Side-Along Apparate you directly to the patient.”
They both sighed and exchanged resigned glances. There was nothing to do but climb out of bed and deal with the problem.
“That’s Bill Weasley’s Patronus,” Catherine remarked, hunting for her shoes under the bed.
“How do you know?”
“Lee told us, remember?” She held up one shoe in triumph.
He didn’t remember, but now he wondered what kind of person Bill Weasley was to have a wolf as a Patronus.
*
Will continued to wonder what kind of person Bill Weasley was after he Side-Apparated him directly into an upstairs corridor. Every door leading off of it was closed, but there was one widow at the opposite end of the stairs. Through it he could see that there were people outside of Shell Cottage - and it looked like they were digging.
Bill obviously didn’t want them to see who the people were or what they were digging for. If he hadn’t met the other Weasley brothers, Will would have guessed that Bill was having a grave dug. This oldest Weasley certainly looked capable of killing with all of those scars marring his face.
Bill’s wife, Fleur, compounded the weirdness of the situation when she joined them in the corridor. She blocked his view out the window while they waited for Bill to return with Catherine.
Will didn’t try to make small talk. There was so much suppressed tension in Fleur that he thought she would lash out if he so much as commented on the weather.
When Catherine arrived, her eyes darted from him to Fleur and then she raised her eyebrows.
“In here,” Bill said, opening one of the doors.
Will recognized Mr. Ollivander, the wandmaker who had been missing for over a year. Had Bill and Fleur been keeping him captive here all of this time?”
“The ‘ealers are ‘ere,” Fleur announced.
Mr. Ollivander’s eyes fluttered open as Catherine ran her wand over him. Her mouth tightened when she scanned his abdomen. Will put his hand on hers so he could see the imaging as well. There was a mass lodged near his liver. Mr. Ollivander didn’t have many months to live.
They exchanged glances and Will dropped his hand from her wand. “We’re going to make you a Strengthening Potion.”
“I need one,” Mr. Ollivander said. “Been in the Malfoy dungeons for months.”
He had been wrong about Bill Weasley, Will realized. He had probably done something heroic to have Mr. Ollivander safely in this house.
Catherine opened her Healer’s bag and took out the portable cauldron. They all watched as she deftly measured the ingredients Will provided and then stirred the potion. She was getting faster, Will realized. Those days at the clinic when he had impatiently waited for her to make a potion seemed so long ago.
“You’ll need to drink the whole goblet,” Catherine told him.
Mr. Ollivander frowned, but did what he was told. A little color returned to his face.
“Do you have the ingredients to make a Strengthening Potion?” Will asked Fleur who wasn’t looking any happier at having her patient on the road to recovery. “He’ll have to have a goblet three times a day.”
Fleur hissed some sort of assent.
“Will?” Catherine asked.
He turned toward her; relieved he didn’t need to engage in further conversation with Fleur.
“Do you have your wand with you? Mr. Ollivander said he would look at it.”
“If it wasn’t broken by magic then it’s usually repairable,” Mr. Ollivander said, looking with interest as Will brought out his snapped wand.
“Oh yes, mahogany and Abraxan hair.” He frowned at it. “A powerful combination, but not the best wand for a Healer.” Mr. Ollivander put the wand on his lap. “May I borrow your wand my dear?”
Catherine handed over her wand and then watched as Mr. Ollivander did some complicated movements and muttered a long incantation. Will wished they could repair fractures that way – the wood suddenly glowed and then fused together again. It was a nice trick.
Mr. Ollivander smiled in satisfaction. “There you go, Mr. Wood. It’s useable, but still fragile at the mended point.”
Just like his back.
“If you ever have a chance to purchase a new wand, I suggest something more flexible. I don’t think this one suits you anymore.”
Will nodded. He longed to ask Mr. Ollivander what he meant, but the patient was looking tired.
“What’s your first magic going to be?” Bill Weasley asked once they were in the corridor again. Now that they were leaving, he seemed a lot friendlier.
“I’m going to take Catherine home,” Will replied.
*
They Apparated back to the cottage without incident, but as soon as they walked in the door, Will knew something had changed. Without looking at him, Catherine stowed her Healer’s bag in the small cupboard and briskly started making breakfast. “The Spinnets sent some eggs and milk over. Would you like an omelet?”
He was hungry, but what he really wanted was to pick up where they had left off this morning. Preferably in bed – preferably with nothing on.
Since that seemed a remote possibility until breakfast was over, he decided to help things along. “Now that my wand is mended, I can actually be of some use.”
“You’ve always been useful.” She sounded annoyed.
He winced as she cracked one egg so hard against the edge of the bowl that it shattered in her hand. Before she could reach for a towel, he took out his wand and cast a cleaning charm.
She was less than grateful. “Still quicker than anyone, I see.”
He crossed his arms in front of himself. “All right, what did I do?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “Absolutely nothing.”
‘Nothing’ hung in the air in the long silence that followed. “Are you talking about last night?” he finally asked.
“Oh, you mean the part where I threw myself at you and you did nothing?” She slammed a frying pan on to the hob and jabbed her wand under it.
He took out his wand and doused the flame. “You didn’t throw yourself at me. I’ve had witches throw themselves at me – “
“Oh, my mistake. Did I miss the ritual throwing of the underwear in your face first?”
“Catherine.” He wanted to laugh since she had such a distorted view of what his Quidditch life had been like.
“What? Mr. WOW?”
“Now wait a minute. I never liked that part –“
“But you still seem to like flirting with a pretty woman no matter where she is.”
She had given up any pretense of cooking and he had given up any pretense of calm reasonableness.
“What are you talking about?”
“This morning! The way you were talking to Fleur Weasley. You looked dumbstruck just standing next to her.”
“That’s because she was bloody scary!” Sparks were flashing out of his wand, so he put it on the counter. “The whole situation was weird.”
“But you don’t deny she’s beautiful.” She crossed her arms in front of herself.
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice. She has that Veela-I’m-going-to-turn-on-you-look, which I don’t find attractive at all.”
Catherine snorted in disbelief. “So what do you find attractive?”
Now was his chance. “Not what – who.”
She colored and looked away. “Not me – not last night.”
“You didn’t seem upset this morning when we woke up together,” he said with genuine confusion. “I thought –“
“I was jealous – okay? I saw you with that beautiful woman and even though you weren’t doing a thing I still felt jealous.”
He gaped at her.
“I know.” She turned away from him and deliberately placed her wand on the counter with trembling fingers. “I don’t expect you to understand since you’ve never been jealous of anyone in you life.”
“I’m jealous of your ex-husband,” he blurted. “Maybe not so much now – I don’t know. But for a while there I hated him.”
She swung around to face him. “You hated him?”
“I did. I hated how you were still in love with him and I didn’t have a chance. But then I met him and I couldn’t hate him after that.”
“You met him?” she echoed.
“At the farmhouse the other night.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I meant to tell you, but there hasn’t been time to talk.”
She nodded.
“I don’t hate him,” he repeated. “I couldn’t hate him. He’s a lot like you.”
“Like me?” Her eyes were wide.
“He’s serious, but kind. Intelligent. He’d take responsibility for everything if you’d let him.”
“That’s why Tonks is good for him,” Catherine said. “She’s one of those jolly broomsticks kind of girls.” Her smile was twisted. “I was never like that.”
She looked so forlorn that he felt he had to risk it. “That’s one of the many things I love about you,” he said quietly.
Color rose in her face. “Will, I’m not still in love with him.”
Something eased in his chest. “Oh.”
“I can’t be in love with two men at the same time.”
She was so serious, so defenseless in telling him this. He held out his arms and she slowly walked into his embrace as if she still wasn’t sure.
“What is it?”
“What if - ” Her eyes searched his face. “With your wand restored you won’t need me anymore.”
Now that she said it, he wasn’t surprised. “I’ll always need you.”
It wasn’t enough – he could tell by the way she was biting her lip and holding herself away from him. He decided to give her something practical to think about. “Why do you think Mr. Ollivander said my wand didn’t suit me anymore?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Probably because you’ve changed since you were eleven.”
“No, really.”
“Really.” She put her hand on his chest to emphasize her point. “You’ve changed since I’ve known you.”
“Oh? How?” Now that she was distracted he could draw her closer with his arms resting loosely around her waist.
“You’re not so impatient. Not so quick to judge a situation. Maybe you’re not so driven.”
He looked down his nose at her. “Maybe it was the potion-induced coma.”
She laughed and shyly put her arms around his neck. “You’re well-named.”
“Mr. WOW?”
She laughed again. “That has yet to be decided – I mean your first name. Will. You have a strong will to do things and sometimes that’s good -”
He swooped down and kissed her for the first time. He was being too quick, too forceful, too greedy, but he couldn’t take another minute of her sweetly earnest talking without doing something.
Her mouth was warm and compliant and altogether intoxicating. Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone for over a year, but from the first touch of his lips on hers he felt that this was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him. She was so responsive - running her hand under his collar, making little breathy noises, and rubbing against him. If they kept going like this he was afraid it would all be over before it began.
He broke away. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“The sofa is itchy,” she agreed.
The upstairs seemed far away – but they eventually made it to the bed, shedding clothes as they went. She was more lovely than he had ever imagined, and more passionate. So much so, that to his chagrin, he felt like an eager teenager rather than someone who had actually been with a woman before. But then, he had never been with someone he loved. He knew that now. “Still too quick,” he said ruefully when they finally rolled apart.
She pounced on to his chest. Her eyes were glowing and she looked as happy as he felt. “What was your record for goals scored in one match?”
He laughed and tangled his hands in her hair. “I always enjoyed the challenge of improving my record.”
“This time you’ll need me to help,” she said, smiling and touching her nose to his.
He looked directly in her eyes, willing her to believe him. “I’ll always need you.”
Her eyes glistened and her lips trembled with emotion. She believed him now. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
*
They managed to squeeze dinner “in between matches” that first glorious day. No Patronuses visited them for three days, so their time in the cottage felt like a wonderful holiday by the sea – with a bit of bad weather as an excuse to stay indoors.
Once the Patronuses did start to come, they decided to divide the workload. Now that Will had a wand they would be able to do more for their patients – more follow ups and more preventative care rather than just responding to emergencies. Catherine was especially concerned about the many pregnant witches who were due around the same time – Tonks included.
“She’s a Metamorphmagus,” she explained to Will when they were working out some appointment times one rainy morning in April after breakfast.
“Is the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” There were all sorts of complications for a mother with that condition since the stress of delivery could make her spontaneously change her anatomy. It didn’t always happen, but it could. The same could happen for the child.
“She has to have a Healer – a midwife doesn’t know the charms to see what’s happening.”
“Of course.” He was probably being too quick again, but he didn’t think he’d change his mind in this. “Let me be the Healer. Let me do this for you, Catherine.”
She bit her lip. “It’s not because I don’t want them to be happy – or that I want what they have. I want them to have the best possible life.”
“I know that.” He put his hand over hers. “It’s just weird, Catherine – to have you there. You don’t want to distract her or him.”
She nodded.
Will was proud of her. She was starting to realize she couldn’t take responsibility for everything.
*
“You have to let him help you,” Remus said to Tonks as she lay panting on the bed. Will had just done another scan with his wand and with every contraction the birth canal was changing in width and length. His grip on his wand was sweaty. No wonder Metamorphmaguses were so rare. This was going to be tricky even if Tonks did consent.
“But freezing?” Tonks’ dark eyes were glazed with pain. “Isn’t that cheating?”
Remus frowned. “Cheating for what? There’s no mark given at the end of this.”
“But it’s not natural childbirth,” she said stubbornly.
Will exchanged a glance with Remus, who seemed to have run out of encouraging things to say. How he wished Catherine were here to talk soothing sense into her ear.
“Magic is natural,” Will finally said. “For thirty minutes that part of your body won’t change. I’m guessing other parts will – since that’s a natural stress reaction for a Metamorphmagus.”
“My nose used to change during exams,” Tonks said, and then gritted her teeth as another contraction wracked her body.
“You wouldn’t have minded charming your nose to stay put for thirty minutes, would you?” Will asked.
“No.” Her voice was weary.
“And would you mind if you couldn’t feel your nose for that thirty minutes?”
She smiled slightly. “No.”
He heaved a relieved sigh. “When you’re fully dilated, we’ll do it.”
Two hours later, Will was muttering to himself, trying to gauge the rhythm of the changes. He had only a split second to wave his wand before everything changed again. Finally he found the moment. Without another thought, he cast the spell.
Tonks gasped as she was suddenly freed from the grip of pain. Her entire body relaxed. “My God, why didn’t you do that sooner?”
Remus laughed. “That’s what I was wondering.”
After twenty minutes, with a bit of coaxing, Teddy Lupin slipped into the world. He was crying, his mother was smiling, and his father was doing a bit of both.
*
Teddy Lupin and Justin Spinnet weren’t the only babies they delivered that spring. There were three births in their district in the first week of May alone. ‘Lambing season’ was how Will thought of it.
Tonight Will was flying through the fog to a witch who was expecting twins. He didn’t think she would have any difficulties, but she was delivering early. The babies would be his primary concern.
He peered through the mist and spotted the dilapidated cottage where “the Joneses” were hiding. Every time he visited a witch or wizard in hiding, it gave him pause. What kind of world was waiting for these babies? And how long could their parents protect them?
He tried to shake off the feeling that something was going to happen – and soon. What that something was, he didn't know, but everyone involved with Potterwatch was on edge.
The gravel crunched under his feet when he landed. A huge wolfhound lunged toward him, baring its teeth.
Will was prepared since had visited before. He threw the conjured ball he had tucked in his robes as hard as he could. The wolfhound took off after it in the fog, barking happily.
The Joneses needed a better watchdog.
The delivery went quickly and smoothly. The babies – two identical girls with masses of dark hair – were healthy enough, but small. Will taught the grandmother how to renew the Bubble-head Charm he had placed around them, and then he packed his things. It was only past twelve – a short night for lambing season.
Once outside he conjured another ball for the wolfhound. He wished he knew its name – or the names of the twin girls for that matter. It seemed wrong to know so much and yet so little about the people under his care.
The mist had lifted so he could see the dog chasing after the glowing ball. Normally he would have grinned at the sight, but tonight he wondered if what he was doing was as futile as chasing a conjured ball.
He was getting impatient – that was his problem, he realized. As far as he knew there was no master plan to defeat the Death Eaters or to seize the Ministry or to try to kill the Dark Lord. When he tried to talk to Oliver about what “The Order” or the Potterwatch contributors were planning, they brushed him off. He was on a need-to-know basis.
Will thought he needed to know a lot more than he did.
The wolfhound triumphantly brought the ball back to Will and wagged his tail. Catherine thought he was learning patience. He smirked. If he was, then it was a gradual process that only a patient person could see.
The dog nudged him with its nose and dropped the ball at his feet.
“The ball’s in my end of the Pitch again, eh?” He gave it his best ‘hail Merlin’ throw. The wolfhound leaped in the air and then tore after it.
Will smiled and mounted his broom. He really was a simple man. That throw would have easily gone the length of a Pitch, and it pleased him that he still had it.
*
The waiting for ‘something to happen’ was over with a chilling message from Charlie Weasley that came later that night.
It’s happening at Hogwarts. We need you.
*
Never in his life had he been caught up in such a whirl of motion. And never in his life had he had to clamp down on his emotions and focus on what he was doing.
Staunching Charm – check for vitals. Smile reassuringly and move on.
Perhaps his dread and panic were kept at bay because Catherine was with him. As long as they were together, it would be okay. It wasn’t logical, but it helped him concentrate.
They hurried from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, stopping to treat the injured along the way. By the time they reached the castle, the battle was over and the Dark Lord was dead – at least that’s what Will gathered as they picked their way over broken glass, smashed potted plants and flapping books to enter the Entrance Hall.
His heart leaped when he saw Oliver, carrying a limp figure over his shoulder. He hadn’t realized how worried he had been about his nephew. Oliver. What if -
Focus.
There were more wounded within the castle – with a vast array of injuries. Madam Pomfrey had already triaged the victims and had arranged for helpers. Will was glad for her guidance. If St. Mungo’s ever wanted a practical exam to test their Healers’ abilities, then this was it. Every type of magic had been used to defend or attack – and that same magic had taken its toll on healthy bodies.
Eventually, the sun rose higher in the sky and their work came to an end. It was time to eat and rest.
As he ate his ham sandwich, sitting at a table with Catherine, he heard two names. They stood out in the babble of voices around them.
Remus Lupin. Tonks.
Catherine put her sandwich down in shock. It couldn’t be true.
It was.
The last time he had seen Remus and Tonks they were standing over their son’s cradle, beaming with pride as he trickled an immunization potion into their baby’s mouth.
Now they were quiet and still.
Catherine had her hand over her mouth as she looked at the white, waxy face of her former husband. She had loved him once.
Not knowing what to do, Will put his arm around her.
“I never thought –“ she began.
“Aye.”
“I never thought I’d know the end . . . .” Her voice broke. “I thought his life would go on like mine. We just wouldn’t be together.”
“I know.”
“He’s not alone, though,” Catherine whispered. “He was always so alone.”
Tonks had died with him. Will couldn’t fathom it. Who had said goodbye? Did one of them have to endure the heartbreak of seeing the other die?
He looked away and saw George Weasley crouched over his twin.
Catherine’s gaze followed his and her eyes darkened with sympathy.
When he had hurt his back and he had to bury his dream of playing Quidditch, he had thought nothing else could ever happen to him that would touch him that deeply – either good or bad.
He was wrong.
George Weasley would find that out, too. But not today – not for a long while. Some types of healing took longer than others.
He led her away from the dead, past the broken hourglasses, and through the open doors of Hogwarts. The wolf that had been plaguing them all was dead, and now it was time to rebuild the house.
Epilogue – Fifteen Years Later
“Will do stop pacing. That’s the rug your Gran bequeathed you.”
He looked in surprise at his feet. He hadn’t realized that he had been pacing while waiting for his son’s first owl from Hogwarts. “She did say in her will that she was giving me her half-worn rug so I would finish the job.”
Catherine put down her quill and joined him at the window. “I’m impatient, too. And so is Clare. She’s out on that broom of yours. She thought she might see Kay first if she was flying.”
Kay, Douglas’s new owl, had never flown from Scotland to Cliffside and Clare was worried her wings would be tired.
Clare liked to fuss like her mother.
“I see his owl!” Catherine said excitedly. “Open the window, Will.”
Clare swooped down next to the open window. “Mum! Dad! Douglas’s owl is here.”
“I see that,” Will said smiling at his daughter. Her dark hair was windblown and her mossy green eyes were shining with excitement.
“What does Douglas say, Mum?” she craned her head to see the letter Catherine was reading. “Does he like being in Gryffindor? Did anyone make fun of his legs or the magical braces Oliver designed?”
Catherine looked up from the letter she had been rapidly devouring. “No, he doesn’t say anything like that. So far he’s listed everything he ate at the Welcoming Feast.” She gave Will a side-long glance. “Sounds like his father.”
He grinned.
“A girl passed him a note in potions.”
“Who is she? Has he kissed her yet?”
“Clare!” Will was astonished his ten-year-old daughter was thinking about such things. “Douglas is a first year – much too young to be thinking about witches, never mind kissing one.”
Clare was about to chat back when Catherine interrupted them. “No one has teased Douglas. But he did get his leg caught in the trip step –“
“I knew I should have warned him about the stairs!” Will slapped his palm against his forehead. “I was thinking last night –“
“And a Hufflepuff prefect helped him,” Catherine continued, her eyes scanning the page.
“I’ve heard Hufflepuffs are nice,” Clare said. “I hope I’m sorted into that house. Gryffindors might be brave, but I don’t think they’re as nice.”
Will raised his eyebrows, but he was only mildly surprised - Clare found a new way to be contrary every day. “But don’t you want to be on the best Quidditch team?”
“If I’m on a team, I’ll make sure it’s the best one,” she declared.
Will laughed.
“But –“ Clare frowned as she thought more about the Hufflepuff scenario. “I wouldn’t want to play against my own brother.”
“Will!” Catherine stared at the letter in shock. “Do you know who helped him?”
“Who?”
“Teddy Lupin.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s the Hufflepuff prefect. He was helping our boy.”
He swallowed a lump of emotion as he was carried back to those years when they were all vulnerable sheep. They still were – but it was impossible to be cynical when the world that could be so cruel, could also be so unexpectedly kind.
“Whose Teddy Lupin?” Clare demanded.
A very good boy. Will cleared his throat and met Catherine’s eyes. “It’s a long story – and one you should know.”
*
A/N: Only
moonette1 would be cruel enough to give Will and Catherine another challenge at the end of her story Air. Douglas Wood is her OC, Clare Wood is Secret Santa’s. moonette describes a lovely seaside home for Will – I stole that, too, but I had Ron remodel when the children came along.Even though Secret Santa isn’t as cruel as
moonette1, SS does have faults. One is being incapable of reading a drabble by gabrielladusult and not stealing a character. Justin Spinnet is her OC. Secret Santa also has trouble meeting deadlines and writing within a reasonable word count. Thanks to girlyswot for stringing you all along while I ignored the elves and finally finished this. Merry Christmas!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-24 12:04 am (UTC)mumbles who she thinks SS isSecret Santa you rock. What a fantastic story and a beautiful gift to Moonette who couldn't continue Air as she was too busy *pouts at Moonette*I loved it all and I'm going to read it again after Xmas when I'm child free.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 11:12 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for reading and commenting - I thought for sure everyone was tired of it and thought it was too long!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-25 02:20 am (UTC)I LOVED IT!!
And I'm SOOOO glad Secret Santa is going to write a weekly serial based on this, so that the fifteen years in between the story and the epilogue can be fleshed out in all of Will Wood's wonderfulness.
What? You mean to say you DIDN'T promise me you'd write the weekly serial? Well now, how did we get our wires crossed? Are you sure?
All right, I understand. You have other things in life besides fulfilling Moonette1's story wishes. But fulfill this you did, in SUCH a huge way. I'm going to come back and tell you in more detail, but it's simply amazing how you included so many things that I hoped you would. And even giving him a scar across his right cheek? You did that on purpose, didn't you? So I could get more use from my icon? You're so completely thoughtful and amazing and generous to write so much. I'm sorry it came at such a busy time, but I will be forever grateful, and I hope to be able to do something as nice back for you someday soon. Thank you SO much, my wonderful Secret Santa. I'm touched and so grateful for this wonderful story that I will enjoy again and again. Merry, Merry Christmas!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 11:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-25 06:20 am (UTC)Bravo Moonette's Secret Santa.!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 11:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-27 10:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 11:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 11:30 pm (UTC)Yay to days getting longer! And yay to being able to breathe through my nose! Maybe I'll be able to sleep well tonight, then? :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 05:32 am (UTC)And I know
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 11:21 pm (UTC)Thanks again for putting up with my tardiness! I'm not usually so bad with deadlines.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-29 06:25 am (UTC)