Rising from her place at the faculty table and clearing her throat loudly in a meaningful manner, Melvina lifts her hands motions for the room to quiet. The hall is lavishly decorated in blue and silver, as seems the tradition for the current house points holder. “Hello, dear students of Hogwarts term 1926 to 1927. Or, more aptly, I should say, goodbye. What a year it has been! Yes, indeed. But, before we travel much further done this ceremonial road designed to fill our bellies, hearts, and minds until our next fine year of learning, it is my great honor of announcing to you all we have with us a special guest, joining us for a good-will mission of sorts. If you will please direct your attention, and warmly welcome…” withdrawing her long wand from the sleeve of her emerald green robes, Melvina gives the length of cherry wood a dramatic flick. The huge double doors at the rear of the hall swings open slowly, their loud creak filling the room.

As the doors swing open to allow a view into the entrance hall, it is Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic, who is revealed standing behind them. Her eyes flit over the tables of students quickly, head not turning, before she takes her first steps into the room. From there it is a straight walk up the middle aisle, somewhat formal dark robes swishing slightly as they hang around her, until she has joined Melvina at the front of the hall. When she reaches it she gives a brief nod of greating to Melvina. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

(Faculty) Bonnie, who has been expecting a rather typical — or boring, however one might put it — end of year feast, is startled at this. Assuming that perhaps the events of the school year might have something to do with this, she sits up straighter, watching down the end of the room with perhaps a bit less awe and pure curiosity than the students all seem to have. As the Minister for Magic enters, however, Bonnie‘s mental assumptions seem to have been proved true while she leans back again. Though, of course, what the Minister would have to do with an end of the year sorting, the teacher can only guess.

Melvina Prichard returns the nod with one of her own, her lips painted with a quiet, half-amused grin that is pertepually a part of her character. Perhaps more so now than on average. She did so enjoy the dramatics. “Naturally, Minister,” she replies, before finishing her introduction to the crowd. “Sylvie Winters-Geroff, Minister for Magic.” She offers some time for the stunned silence and whatever applauses might creep up out of the shock, before pushing on. “The Minister’s time is short, and she has a very special purpose for visiting us today, so I will turn the floor, and my pedistal, over to her. Minister?” Stepping away from the podium from which Melvina usually stands behind, she motions for Sylvie to take it, before returning to her seat.

(Faculty) Apparently expecting something of the sort, Astra leans back casually in her chair. Her left hand dangles at her side, but she instinctually reaches for the flask that is ever at easy reach. Fingers settle around the familiar friend, but she does not pull it out. An actual smile lights her features when Sylvie enters the room, but it fades quickly and she begins to eye the ceiling of the hall in a casual manner.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh is sitting unusually stiffly, looking about as comfortable as she normally does when the hall is bedeked in Ravenclaw’s colors. Still, at the announcement, the green-clad Herbology professor quirks her head to the side. With eyebrows raised and expression clearly registering surprise at the notion of a guest, she waits expectantly for the entrance. When she sees who it is however, Keelan actually smiles and briefly applauds. After all, outside of being Minister for Magic, Sylvie Winters(-Geroff!) had been her first Head of House. That alone commands a nostalgic respect. Soon enough, she settles down, stiff-backed again, to wait.

(Faculty) “Oh my…” comes Sibyl Wexler‘s impressed murmur, from her seat at the end of the Faculty table. Her eyes widen as she follows the Minister’s progress down the aisle, and she pulls herself a little straighter in her chair as she applauds. She makes no move to do anything more strenuous, though – this late in her pregnancy, Sibyl has grown large enough that staying seated is a much more comfortable option than anything else. The nurse’s cheerful smile is undimmed, though, and she turns to look at first Melvina and then the Minister with growing interest and raised eyebrows.

“Thank you, again.” As Melvina takes her seat, Sylvie turns to fully face the students, pausing a moment as she looks over them again before she starts speaking. It’s been a few years since she’s been in this exact position, after all, though many of the older students are still familiar. “I am here today to honor two of your peers, two of the wizarding world’s finest citizens, for their great efforts put forth this past year on behalf of one of your professors.” A very quick glance is directed back at Karina. “Miss Eliza Marlowe, Mister Martin Foster, would you please join me?”

With a startled gasp, Eliza Marlowe springs to her feet, unfolding gracefully to her full height despite the fact that her mouth is still hanging open in surprise. It stays open as she exchanges a glance across the room with Martin over the heads of the other students – then looks back to the Minister, and then to Karina, and then to the Minister again. Slowly at first, and then faster as the initial shock wears away, Eliza strides down the aisle towards the head table, a slow, incredulous smile beginning to spread across her face.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard continues to watch the Minister, even after she sits, her half-amused expression lingering on her lips. A handful of the faculity were made aware of the events that were about to take place, but owing to a love of the theatrical, Melvina had naturally left some out. After all, what is a surprise if everyone knows what will happen. That thought proves a bit to much, though, and the Headmistress does find herself having to take a sit of the flagon of water in front her to briefly hide a small chuckle.

(Faculty) Grinning mischievously at the events as they unfold, Astra too has an obvious love for the theatrics, but unlike Melvina she takes few pains to hide the sly smile or the soft chuckle that follows. Glancing sidelong at the Headmistress, the teacher purses her lips and forces herself not to say a word. The grip on her flask relaxes and she withdraws her fingers from the object. Settling both hands in her lap, she sits up straight and returns her gaze to the Minister and the students in question.

Sylvie Winters-Geroff offers a brief smile to the Head Boy and Girl as they walk forward, waiting until both have reached the front of the room before she speaks again. “Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe played a crucial role in researching and apprehending Immanual Irving, a man who was working illegally to create and test dangerous potions.” She leave the explanation at that; the news of the trial likely spread even to here. “In doing so, they also cleared the name of Professor Sedgewick, for which I know we are all very grateful.” “For their skill, determination, and bravery in assisting the Ministry in this way, each will be awarded the Order of Merlin First Class.”

(Faculty) Bonnie‘s eyebrow raises as she turns to see that Astra looks awfully smug several seats down the table. While the Divination professor would like to lean down and ask the woman, it certainly wouldn’t be very good form to do this while the Minister for Magic is speaking and she keeps mum, instead turning her face foward again, taking in the woman’s speech further.

“What?” Eliza‘s exclamation carries to every corner of the Great Hall, and her mouth hangs open again for a moment after it is done. She looks swiftly over at Martin, as if to check whether he’s heard the same thing that she has. “Order of – First class?” Eliza repeats, her powerful voice barely a whisper now. And then she looks back at Sylvie, gulps, and straightens up, unfurling her shoulders to stand at attention before the Minister. Another smile starts to edge up the corners of Eliza‘s mouth, smaller, wondering, and proud.

(Faculty) Continuing to look rather impish than full of herself, Astra grins a touch wider to show teeth. She’s enjoying this scene very much, although it’s a personal sort of pleasure that bursts into full bloom when Sylvie finally makes her announcement. Clapping, she purposefully controls her reaction and bites back a shout of joy for the two young adults so awarded.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh doesn’t look too surprised, though she could just be covering up her expression for once. A soft smile spreads across her features, but in all reality they weren’t her closest students by a wide margin, not having the scores for her particular class. Still, should they look her way for any reason, the smile will widen appreciatively. So they saved the professor of her least favorite subject; At least they had and the Ministry wasn’t ignoring it. Keelan glances briefly down the table toward Karina, and then sets her expresison forward again, hands folding across her lap.

Slight smile back as she watches Eliza and Martin’s reactions, Sylvie waits until the large amounts of cheering have died down again before continuing. When it finally does, she turns to face the Head Boy and Girl, taking a single step toward them to present each with the award and offer a handshake. Alongside this she adds, “Thank you, both, for your services. I’m glad to know there are people such as you, and am sure you will both do well once you leave these walls.” She offers another, larger smile to the two, before turning back to the student body at large. “It has been a pleasure to be here with you today. With no further ado, I turn you back to your Headmistress.”

With a steady hand, Eliza reaches out to accept the award, shaking the Minister’s hand firmly with the other. She stands even taller, if that were possible, and her smile shines forth into a full-force grin as she closes her hand around her Order of Merlin. But Eliza‘s eyes are shining with more than pride – as she withdraws from the handshake, she hastily reaches up to scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand, swallowing hard even amid her smiles.

Rising from the Faculty table after Eliza and Martin have accepted the rewards, Melvina applauds loudly, after after a few moments, motions for everyone to rise and applaud as well. And with some satisfaction, she notes that the applause is both loud and very sincere. “Thank you, Minister, and congratulations to the Head Boy and Head Girl! Let us praise our fine student leaders by honoring the with the school song!” Giving a great, wordless, hooting cheer, the Headmistress breaks in to a very loud, very happy round of largely off-key song, in hopes that the room follows her lead in good cheer. “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something, please! Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees! Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff! For now they’re bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff! So teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we’ve forgot! Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot!” And only once the Headmistress-invited standing ovation and song has progressed for several minutes, the Headmistress makes motion for everyone to quiet again. Turning to Sylvie, Martin, and Eliza, Melvina grins, warmly. Obviously quite jovile, even if there is a small mark of seriousness in her eyes. “Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster, please remain there for a moment. Thank you, Minister. I know you have pressing a pressing agenda, but if you could see fit to stay, I’m sure my staff would make room for you at our table. The meals are as lovely still as I’m sure you remember.” The offer made, she looks back to the crowd of students, her rich brown eyes twinkling, “Now, moving right along..”

“Indeed, indeed. Well done, Miss Marlowe, Mister Foster. You have both performed an act and bravery and cunning that speaks well of yourselves and this school. It is with a genuine heart that I, the faculty of Hogwarts School, and your fellow students congratulate you. However,” Melvina notes, the mirth leaving her expression at the note of that last word. The Headmistress’ tone becoming gravely serious. “As prefects, and certainly Head Boy and Head Girl, you of all pairs should know that rules are rules, and are not to be broken lightly, even in the wake of such good tidings or favorable results. Thus, I fear I must make some last moment addendums to our house rankings.”

Stepping back to allow the Headmistress the spotlight along with the two students, Sylvie joins in with the last round of clapping as the room stands up. As the clapping.. and, later, song.. fade off and Melvina resumes her speech, Sylvie apparently accepts the invitation to stay. After all, who would refuse the Hogwarts feast? And the beginning of Melvina’s speech finds her at the Faculty table.

(Faculty) Mumbling the school song with no great enthusiasm, Astra‘s lips move nicely but the words are more spoken than sung and what does manage to be audible is more a whisper of jumbled words. As Melvina begins her own speech, the remaining smile fades away.

Basking in the glow of applause and praise, Eliza stands at the front of the room, pushing back the tears of joy and pride that threaten to spill out of her shining eyes. She tosses her head back, and lifts her chin higher in a show of strength, struggling to keep her smile from wavering. And then the Headmistress’s next announcement comes – and Eliza‘s expressive face melts into a look of sudden apprehension. She exchanges an entirely different kind of look with Martin now, worried and uncertain.

“For leaving the school grounds without express permission or escort of myself or one of the school faculity, I find that I must penalize both the Head Boy and Head Girl by twenty points each.” Knowing what an unpopular announcement that will be, especially after such a jolly congratulations, Melvina similar waits and allows that to sink in. Noting those who boo with the same quiet, grave expression.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh sings the school song with all the enthusiasm of a dead rock–that is, she sort of opens and shuts her mouth once or twice but not sound comes out and her cheeks turn a rosy shade of red. Her nostrils flare at the reduction of points, and it’s in a still inaudible mutter that the professor comments, “As if Ravenclaw needed more of a lead in order to win.” She resumes her unpleasant posture of ‘getting through the feast’. Very mature. No. Honest!

Eliza lifts her chin higher still – not in defiance, but in acceptance. She stands just as straight and tall as ever, even with the burden of losing her House points as one of her last acts as a Hufflepuff – but Eliza still can’t quite bring herself to meet the eyes of her housemates, or Martin.

Once Melvina has let that reality sink in, that Ravenclaw’s lead had become absolute, the Headmistress continues. Her expression equally as serious and tone just as grave. “However, I would be remiss in following Hogwarts policy if I didn’t then, in turn, reward your fine accomplishments as well.” It’s only then than the tell-tale twinkle in her eyes glimmers as she shifts her gaze toward Martin and Eliza. “With dedication and cunning that exemplifies the core traits of both your houses, Miss Marlowe and Mister Foster, you two alone subdued and helped bring to justice a singularly Dark Wizard, and cleared our dear Professor Sedgewick’s name. For that, I have the great pleasure of awarding you fifty points, each.”

Continuing on, as if not to lose her momentum, Melvina adds in a grand voice, “Further, I award Martin Foster another fifty points efforts that saved the lives of third year Louis Harper and our Professor Rathe while putting himself under great personal risk.” Drawing a deep breath, Melvina grins, quite suddenly, and opens another round of applause, before looking down to Martin and Eliza, nodding that after they have soaked up enough praise, they may return to their tables.

And Eliza‘s grin bursts forth again, spilling over into a laugh of relief and triumph. She reaches over to shake Martin’s hand, and then changes it to an enthusiastic thump on his shoulder. With the momentary anxiety entirely dispelled, Eliza is free to let her joy emerge again, and she strides – no, runs back to the Hufflepuff table to rejoin her housemates for one last time.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh is watching the giant hourglasses fill and lets out a rather unprofessional, “Ha!”, turns bright red, and then murmurs, “Rather, congratulations to them. Deserved it, of course. Hard work.” Lower, probably just to whomever is closest to her (in all likelyhood, Julie), “Not being Ravenclaws.” Back to herself, she smiles at Astra and Melvina and the Slytherin in general. At least she resisted the urge to smirk at the Ravenclaws. After all, who knows, maybe some of the first years saved a barrage of house elves while nobody was looking and they’ll win again anyway. She waits.

“Our Hogwarts family has endured much this term, and by sheer pluck of our students and faculty, we have emerged from the struggle stronger and shining brighter than we ever have. It is on that note, that I also wish to praise Professor Sedgewick and Professor Rathe,” Melvina continues, after the applauses have died down again. “Professor Sedgewick, of course, endured a grueling assault on her character and soul and perserved as best as one could expect. Professor Rathe showed great strength of character and soul in during the trial of Paul Clairwill, and such fortitude and bravery should be rewarded. Thought it would be unfair for me to award house points, or implore upon our dear visiting Minister to grant medals as were just recieved by our esteemed Head Boy and Head Girl, I believe they are each equally deserving of said regards, and we should all be proud of them, and of there connections to us and this school.” Again, leading a round of applause, Melvina then turns to Astra with a grin brimming with genuine pride, and motions to the blue and bronze decorations lining the room. “I believe we have a new House Champion, do we not? If you would do the honors?”

Standing up, there is a pause as the small woman reaches into her cloak to retrieve her wand. Looking rather perplexed as her name was mentioned, Astra tries to cover up her discomfort with a tight smile and a muttered, ‘my pleasure.’ Following that there she moves swiftly with a snapping motion of her wrist and wand, the banners flip from Blue and Bronze to Green and Silver changing to display from Ravenclaw to Slytherin colors. Astra‘s smile faded during the loss of points, but now she bestows a very pleased expression upon the Slytherin table as she tucks the wand away and retakes her seat without a word.

“Congratulatuions, Slytherin house! Now, only one more thing to say, before we enjoy –” With her still withdrawn wand, Melvina negligantly flicks it at the direction of the tables, summoning the End of Year Feast for everyone to enjoy. “– the fine food which has been prepared for us. This has been my first year at Hogwarts School, but it has been a fine one. Thank you all for that. When I arived, this was an imposing castle, something I remembered from my youth. A daunting job. But thanks to you all, staff and students alike, I felt welcomed, and now, I can’t help but see this place as my home. For those of you students who will return next year, remember that magic use over the summer is strictly prohibitted, and that next year I hope we can grow together as much as we have this one. For those of you graduating and going out in to the world, we have only had the oppertunity to touch each other’s lives briefly, but I hope you will remember me and this place fondly, as I will remember you. My first graduating class as the luckiest woman in the world, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Eat well.” And with that, Melvina sits, smiling quietly.

(Faculty) Chuckling darkly as the Headmistress resumes her seat, Astra does reach for her flask this time. Opening it, she pours some of the contents into her goblet. Stopping it back up, she puts it away and reaches for the goblet. “Ah yes, a warm welcome from the staff,” grinning sharply her dry humor hasn’t changed in the slightest. “That’s not exactly how I’d phrase such things but then,” raising the glass to Melvina, “You’ve grown on me. I hope we all have a better year next year.” Sweeping her arm to include those down the table away from her, she smiles to all gathered at the table. “To all of us, it’s been interesting this year if not always pleasurable.”

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard chuckles, softly, passing a vague glance to Astra with a coy sort of expression. “Truly? It must be age, then, as I was certain everyone at this table welcomed me with open arms.” Her tone is laced with a similar dry amusement that marks Astra’s, though her expression softens noticably at the gesture made by the Defense Master. Taking up her own tankard, she lifts it as well, in response. “To all of us. Hear, hear.”

(Faculty) “Poor Ravenclaw,” is all Bonnie comments before she begins to fill her plate with some of the delectable cuisine from before her. The smug looks on some faces before her causes the woman to chuckle, however, and she does seem amused at how the various houses are taking the news.

(Faculty) “The Ravenclaw did very well for themselves this year with Quidditch and they managed to get the House Cup last year. I’m sure they’ll continue proving themselves.” Smiling a little fondly, Astra takes a drink from her goblet, but ignores all the food on the table. “I’m proud of the Slytherin. I don’t know when the last time was that the won a House Cup, but even if they don’t win again it’s good to see they’re turning around and actually caring.” “I’m a bit sad for Hufflepuff actually they did very well this year. Maybe next year they’ll surprise us all.” While she’s not the kind to typically make conversation, she is trying and more, she’s actually being polite for once rather than using her usual curt manners.

(Faculty) “Indeed. I had some very talented Hufflepuffs in my class this year,” Bonnie adds after a sip of some stew. “Perhaps next year will surprise us all,” the woman comments as well, smiling down the table to Astra. How congenial! Bonnie does not appear to be so very hungry as all that, though, leaving bits and pieces of the food she has taken on the plate before her and instead sipping her pumpkin juice slowly, interspersing it with the occasional bite of food.

(Faculty) “Good to hear, all I managed to glean was complaints and whines from students about how hard Divination was.” Grinning sharply, it’s a glimmer of her dark humor and Astra directs it at Bonnie. “I’m glad to hear and see that Divination isn’t at all like old Dinsmore taught. I thought it was another easy ‘A’ until I heard things in the hallways. Things are different now, but that’s not such a bad thing. I hope your Hufflepuff continue to do well, they’re a mostly good bunch that House.” “May you continue to get talented students and not ones like,” chuckling, “well to be blunt, like I was.”

(Faculty) Bonnie laughs actually quite loud as Astra says this. “It’s only hard if they don’t apply themselves to it.” Bonnie seems to believe this, too. “And I wish you good students as well. I can only imagine from the stories I’ve heard about the horrors of the old Divination teachers what the rest of the teachers must have been like. I simply can’t imagine. Hiring people like that after the joy that Professor D’Estiny was.” Bonnie‘s eyes almost seem to glaze over in sheer joy as she thinks back to her own Hogwarts days. “Hopefully the students are doing better in Defense than many were doing in Divination?”

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard simply listens, quietly smiling, feeling quite warm from the butterbeer that had found it’s way in to her belly and the steaming turkey legs she had enjoyed. She had meant every word, ultimately. About this place feeling like home, and her staff feeling like family. It was pleasant, that way. And she hoped that feeling would continue. Astra was right. It had been a rocky start, but once things had smoothed over, everything seemed to even out. And now.. she had a family again. ‘Actually,’ Melvina thought, as she looked out at the Ravenclaw table, to one fifth-year prefect and one second-year teenager. ‘Two families, under one roof.’ “What a year,” she whispers, sipping her butterbeer once more.

(Faculty) “I would say they’ll at least survive the world when they leave my class, but I don’t think many really care about the subject.” Shrugging, Astra takes another drink and sets the goblet down. “I can’t really blame them; it’s not my favorite subject either. Who really wants to prepare to face off things that range from pests to outright dangers? Not really a pleasant subject at all.” “Most of them do what they have to in order to get by.”

(Faculty) Sylvie Winters-Geroff has remained mostly silent for the feast so far, though even she looked slightly pleased at Slytherin’s win. It would hardly do for her to say so of course. Now she contributes, “The first Divination professor I had was rather good; of course, Professor Love left while I was still young.” As if she’s terribly old now – but it was her fourth or fifth year. As the conversation moves on however, she quiets again, rather enjoying just being back for one feast.

(Faculty) “Ah, yes, well… that does make sense,” Bonnie answers. After all, it had not been her best subject by any means. “I never could quite cotton on to it, myself, anyway.” Pausing as the Minister speaks up, bonnie nods. “That will have been after I left school, I think, that Professor Love was there.” Stating this, Bonnie almost balks at herself. How is it she comes to be so much older than the Minister after all? “It’s a real pity that there were such poor teachers after.” Bonnie shakes her head again and sips her pumpkin juice, falling quiet.

(Faculty) Glancing at the Headmistress, Astra doesn’t quite scowl. “My own are coming in next year. I don’t know how you manage Melvina, I really don’t. I’m almost afraid of having my children as pupils.” Grabbing up the goblet, she sips again from the contents and grins at Bonnie’s words. “We had a few decent professors, but most of them were terrible really. The ones that were good I would have done anything for, they made me love being here. Then of course there were the terrible ones that I detested and they made school almost as unbearable and the horrible students.” “I think that the demand for quality is improving, rather than the Board just placing their favorites in positions. It’s good to see and it’s good to know that the students who leave us will have a solid education.”

(Faculty) “Oh, I do hope yours will take Divination when the time comes,” Bonnie comments cheerfully, finishing off the last of her food, though she leaves much of the stew in its bowl, mostly untouched. “I had better go set things to rights in my office before I head off for the summer,” the woman comments. “So very nice to meet you,” she addresses to the Minister for Magic and then smiles to the rest of the faculty. “See you soon,” she tells them all, giving a mock salute with a bit of a grin as she stands and makes her way out of the Great Hall.

Sitting at her desk in her office, Bonnie seems to have put off doing work for the day, and instead has her feet quite comfortably propped up on the corner of it. In her hands is a rather large text, the front of which states clearly that it is the most reliable source for tea reading tea types. Bonnie‘s eyebrows are knitted together as she scours the book, already more than half-way through it, with a hefty stack of notes next to her. The woman looks quite blissfully unaware of the real world going on around her, pausing and leaning forward to scribble some more notes onto her parchment.

Like a ship in full sail, Sibyl Wexler sweeps down the hallway at a fast-paced waddle, her rounded face flushed with the warmth of the springtime as well as the exertion of moving about the school’s numerous staircases and corridors so far along in her pregnancy. But the nurse’s usual energy does not seem to have been decreased at all, and she keeps up a steady running commentary as she moves down the corridor towards the Divination office with her eldest daughter at her side. “Now, we’re going to see what Professor Kensington has to say. Remember not to touch anything – the art classroom is one thing, but Professor Kensington will have all sorts of delicate things.” Sibyl breaks off to give a quick, emphatic knock at the door. “Professor? Are you free?”

“I know, mum,” Briony responds quietly, her cheeks reddening. “Do you have to say things like that in front of my friend?” she asks in an irritated whisper, but then they’re at the door of the Divination teacher’s office, and she stops abruptly, standing on tip-toes to try and see what the teacher looks like over her mother’s shoulder. “I hope she’s nice,” Briony whispers to Kalynn, sounding a good degree less irritated than the whisper she addressed her mother with only moments before.

Time for Kalynn to learn about what Briony has described to her as the ‘pretend subject’! Scampering after Briony, Kalynn nods in response to the nurse’s warning and makes a mental note to curb her enthusiasm for touching everything. Grinning, Kalynn nods. “She… she will be!” Kalynn says with some firmness, though her facial expression might suggest this is more of a hopeful statement than one based in experience of any kind. “She looks like a nice person…” she notes, looking from Briony to Sibyl.

“What?” Bonnie asks and sits up abruptly, causing her feet to come to the floor with a loud THUNK. “Oh, hello, Missus Wexler,” Bonnie greets her coworker and peers beyond her to look at the two girls. “I’m perfectly free,” she answers almost sounding gleeful. “Are these both yours?” she asks, looking at the two young girls behind Sibyl. “Prospective students, I assume?” Bonnie‘s voice has a very pleasant lilt to it as she comments on this to Sibyl, looking pleased that someone would even want to find out about it beforehand.

A brief glance over her shoulder is all the reprimand that Sibyl Wexler gives her daughter, and by the time she pushes through the door of the office, her smile has returned. “Oh, thank you, Professor. No, only one of them is mine – this is my eldest, Briony.” Maternal pride warms Sibyl‘s smile and voice as she reaches out to put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “And this is her friend Kalynn. Yes, both prospective students – if you’ve got a minute to spare for us, we’d all appreciate hearing what advice you might have.”

Grinning brightly as she is introduced, Briony steps forward, standing in front of her mother. “That’s my best friend,” she supplies after Kalynn is addressed by name. “Well, my other one.” This is assuming, of course, that Bonnie would even know she had one to begin with. Before she is even bidden to sit down, Briony plops into the nearest chair, her parchment poised and her quill ready to grab and take notes. “We’re thinking of taking Divination. Is it fun?” She wastes no time in asking her most important question, it seems, and she takes the quill from out of her hair, removing the bit of parchment that serves to keep her hair free of ink.

Kalynn gets an odd pang as Sibyl rests her hand on Briony, and looks down momentarily. The girl was at quite a loss as to why Briony so resented having her mother work at the school. Kalynn missed her mum every day! Briony was so lucky! Shaking off the feeling, though, Kalynn knows she should focus on the task at hand! Nodding as she is introduced, Kalynn gives the professor a toothy smile of excitement (likely, also, in response to Briony’s clarification) as she follows her friend into the room and sits down beside her. Kalynn hasn’t thought to bring a quill to take notes with, but surely she can look over Briony’s afterwards? All the same, Kalynn shoots Sibyl a bit of a worried glance before looking to Bonnie, awaiting the answer to the first question.

“Well, aren’t you a forward one?” Bonnie chuckles as the two of them sit in the only chairs available. “Here, Sibyl, have a seat,” Bonnie tells the other woman, bringing out her wand and summoning a chair to slide toward the room. “You must be tired of being on your feet already, trekking up here.” She pauses as she looks from Kalynn to Briony and back again. “Well, I would say it’s exciting, yes. You get to learn how to tell significant future events. Now, it’s not easy, and not everyone has the gift, but if you have the enthusiasm to at least try, then I think you’d do well in the class. For instance, the first semester of your Third Year will be spent drinking tea and then learning to read the dregs at the bottom.” Bonnie smiles warmly at this comment, hoping to easily win these two over as she has managed to do with several other students.

“Thank you!” Sibyl replies, with a little more fervor and relief than she had expected from herself. She glances quickly down at Briony, checking her daughter’s reaction to her own moment of vulnerability, but is soon too caught up in the business of lowering herself down into the chair to watch Briony for much longer. WIth a small sigh, Sibyl stretches her feet out in front of her, and settles down to listen to her colleague’s speech.

“Oh, tea!” Briony responds cheerfully, looking to Kalynn. “It can’t be so bad if you can drink tea in the class.” She pauses. “Do we get cookies with it, too?” Ah, the important things in life! Briony scribbles Tea at the top of her parchment and something else that seems to be entirely unintelligible as she finally remembers to put the header at the top: Divanation.

Nodding to Briony, Kalynn agrees with, “No class is bad with tea,” before putting a finger to her chin and reconsidering slightly. “Except… charms would still be hard, even with tea…” The little girl looks down slightly before glancing back up with a grin. “Even if there wasn’t cookies, it’d still be good. So, what kind of tea is it?” Nevermind the rest of the curriculum, Kalynn needed to know exactly what to be prepared for!

“No, no cookies,” Bonnie tells them with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, the tea is just for practical use, but it is a good part of the class. It’s just plain black tea, is all. Though I’ve been researching different types of tea and their affect on the accuracy of the reading. Until I finish my research, though, we’re staying to the black tea.” Bonnie pats her book as she says this, directing to the book about types of tea. She smiles at Sibyl and quirks her head a bit. “Is there anything you’d like to know about the class itself?” she asks, trying to direect the conversation to more the idea of why she assumes they have come.

A patient, affectionate smile settles over Sibyl‘s face as she listens to the girls’ chattering questions and commentary, and she lets out a soft sigh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes heavenward. “Yes, I’m sure there is plenty that they’d like to know,” she says, agreeing gently but pointedly with the professor’s suggestion. “Such as, what types of books you’ll be reading?” Sibyl gives first Briony and then Kalynn a raised-eyebrow look. “And what sorts of special projects the class has?”

“Oh, right” Briony responds, looking over her shoulder at her mother. “I forgot my list.” With a pause, she turns back to Bonnie, glancing at Kalynn quickly. “What kind of projects do we have to do in the class? Are they really hard?” Briony widens her eyes, an expression which seems to want to look interested, but ends up looking a bit intense and perhaps, at the same time, a bit silly. It is another moment before she shakes her head and relaxes her face to normal, stifling a giggle while she waits for Bonnie’s answer.

Kalynn doesn’t know if she’s ever had plain black tea. Though, this is why one went to school, wasn’t it? To learn! To experience! “Divination books, obviously!” she echoes reasonably to Sybil’s question with a smirk. Kalynn nods excitedly as she tries to curb her thoughts into thinking of a professional-sounding question. Adding to Briony, Kalynn asks, “Yes, because I can sometimes be rather bad at projects. Will you help us if they’re hard?” she questions, looking not quite so intense as Briony, though her brows are furrowed.

Bonnie bites her lips, looking from one girl to the other, obviously trying not to laugh. The other students who had come to see her had not been quite so silly about it. In fact, they had all been rather straightforward. There is a moment of silence while Bonnie formulates how she ought to phrase it for two girls such as this. “Well, the projects will challenge you, but you’ll have everything you need to complete them before I assign them to you, and of course, you can always come to see me. My office hours are posted on that bulletin board in the classroom. I’m not sure if you noticed it, but if you’re going to take this class, you’ll want to acquaint yourselves with it. Of course, you have time.” Bonnie chuckles as she notes this and looks at the two cheerfully. “Any more questions?”

With another sigh of amused despair at the hope of her daughter and her friend ever considering anything practical, Sibyl shakes her head. “Perhaps you’d like to know what sorts of things Divination can be useful for, later on?” she prompts, in one last effort to push the giggling girls into something approaching a focus on the matter at hand. “Jobs, and that sort of thing?”

“Well, of course, mum, telling the future,” Briony answers quickly with a giggle. “Everybody knows that. I heard someone talking about how they pay people at the Ministry to do it, and Dad’s talked about people doing it at the Daily Prophet, too, for their horoscope sections. Isn’t that bully?” Briony seems to be directing this more to Kalynn than to her mother and she giggles. “I forget the rest of my questions. Do you have some, Kalynn?” Briony bounces visibly in her chair as she asks this.

Shrugging, Kalynn asks, “Can we owl you if we think of any more questions, professor Kensington? It’s hard to think of things on the spot, you know?” Kalynn nods as she glances to Sibyl, hoping not to see a look of disappointment. “The class sounds really great,” Kalynn says to the professor. “At least, I’m looking forward to it!”

“Certainly you can,” Bonnie answers quickly, smiling to both of the girls and standing. “And you’re welcome to come see me any time if you think of something. I’m here quite often.” Pausing a moment, Bonnie holds up a hand and slides her drawer open, pulling out a tin and opening it. Inside are cookies of many different assortments. “Have one,” she tells them with a wink to Sibyl, and she holds the tin out to them.

There is neither disappointment nor displeasure on Sibyl‘s face, just the same fond, tolerant smile, and she exchanges a quick look with Bonnie, followed by a slight shrug. What can be done with children like this? Nothing except to say, “It’s all right to have a few cookies, girls. But don’t dawdle too long – we’ve still got to meet with the art professor. Thank you for letting us talk to you, Professor Kensington.”

“Oh, thank you!” Briony responds quickly and takes two cookies — after all, she mustn’t be greedy. Beaming happily at the woman, the girl stands up. “I’m definitely taking Divination, what do you say, Kalynn?” she asks her friend, giving a boisterous wave to the Divination teacher as she practically skips out of the room behind her mother. “Drinking tea and predicting the future sounds like a lot of fun!” The girl giggles loudly as she makes her way out of the office and through the classroom, bound for the hallway.

“Oh yes,” Kalynn confirms, cheerfully taking a cookie, too. “Most definitely!” A bit of a giggle escapes the girl before she remembers her manners: “Oh, thank you!” she says quickly over her shoulder. Waving as well, Kalynn comments, “And you said it was a pretend class!” to Briony with a grin as she leaves the Divination room.

The cheerful sound of whistling echoes throughout the Wexlers’ new house, bouncing off the walls of the still mostly-empty rooms, and rising up to the second floor, and even the tiny tower room. The focus of the bright music, though, is Sibyl Wexler, bustling heavily but contentedly around the living room, studying it from every angle – and, occasionally, from a lower angle, as she takes a break to rest in the large squashy chair that sits in the middle of the room, one of the few pieces of furniture that has been moved in. But then she is up again, poking into the corners of the room. Occasionally, the cheerful rhythm of the music is broken up by a considering murmur from Sibyl: “Blue? Hm, with white trim, perhaps? No, maybe green…”

Striding in with his arms full of wallpaper and what looks to several wall poster, Basil drops them all onto a table that has been set up in the center of the room. “Which is for what?” he asks, looking quite perplexed at all of it, and as a snitch darts across one roll, he frowns. “I thought we told Briony no Quidditch paper.” He brandishes the roll at Sibyl, too seemingly distracted to figure out whether it is a poster or is, indeed, a roll of wallpaper. “I liked the green better, “he comments quietly and comes over to her, leaning down to kiss her gently.

“It’s just a poster, love,” Sibyl replies soothingly, tilting her head up to return the kiss. “And do you really think the green would be better? Here, look – ” She reaches down to fish through her voluminous robes for a moment, and pulls out her wand. Pointing it at the wall with the fireplace, Sibyl murmurs two quick incantations – and one half of the wall turns dark blue, and the other forest green, leaving the fireplace and mantel white. “I think I like the blue…” The color starts to fade after only a few seconds, but it is long enough to get a sense of what it would look like.

Pulling his wand out and pointing to the wall, Basil turns around once, surveying the room. “I was thinking more like this.” He waves his wand and a splash of color goes in stripes against the blue in a much lighter green, almost a muted heather color. “That’ll make it less dark in here, I think,” he comments. Realizing her comment about the quidditch print he shakes his head. “Whatever got her interested in Quidditch, I’ll never understand. It’s just so dangerous.” He sighs a bit. “Is she playing next year?” he asks, holding his wand out stil to sustain the color on the walls.

“Hm….” Sibyl muses, and tilts her head to consider the stripes. She raises her own wand again and makes a gesture of her own – the muted green lines narrow, and split, making a thinner, lighter pattern across the blue background. “There,” she says, with a satisfied smile. “How does that look?” Sibyl wriggles forward in her chair and pulls herself up, taking a few steps forward to get a closer look at the pattern before it fades away again. “I don’t know if she’s playing next year,” Sibyl continues, a little absently. “I know she wants to, but it depends on how her final examinations go. If she can’t keep her marks up, she won’t be playing again.”

“Maybe with a lighter blue,” Basil comments, drawing his wand along the way of each of the blue stripes to light them just slightly to match the green that he has put up there. “Much better,” he comments and smiles a bit while waving his wand to set the colors so that he no longer has to hold them with his wand. Turning to Sibyl again he sighs a bit. “I’d rather she didn’t play anyway. It’s just… so dangerous.” His comment does repeat itself with little difference from the last time he said it, but he seems to mean it just as fervently.

“Oh, perfect!” Sibyl cries, giving her husband a merry grin and a kiss on the cheek in response to his smile. “Yes, that’s going to look lovely!” And then Sibyl sighs, her own smile softening sympathetically, and slips her arm comfortingly through Basil’s. “I know, love,” she murmurs. “I’m the one to put all the children back together, when they get hurt. And I spend every match hoping that our Briony won’t be among them. But she hasn’t yet, and she loves it.” Fervor intensifies Sibyl‘s voice, even though her tone is still soft and soothing. “And she’s good, too,” she adds, with a ring of pride. “We’ll see how her marks are after this year,” Sibyl continues, giving her husband’s arm a gentle squeeze. “If she can’t pay attention to school and Quidditch, then…” She leaves the sentence unfinished, but the tilt of her head and the warning lift of her eyebrows imply the way it would have ended.

“She’d better be paying attention,” he comments and shakes his head a bit, glancing around the room. “I suppose we’ll have to fix the furniture to match,” he comments, glancing around at it all. “Maybe, er, tan?” he comments, not sounding entirely sure as he sits down on the furniture which is broken in quite well. Seemingly out of the blue he sighs and leans back. “I’m not sure how I’m going to get used to being home all day. At least the kids won’t be with Eva all day anymore.” Basil stretches back and looks around. “So, tan, do you think?”

“Mm. Perhaps,” Sibyl replies. With a sigh, she eases herself down onto the sofa next to Basil, and leans back, reaching out to wrap her hand around his. “You’ll find things to do. I know you will, love. The time fills up, when you’re taking care of the children and the house – sometimes without you even realizing it.” Sibyl stretches her feet out in front of her, and tilts her head to follow her husband’s gaze around the room. “Maybe tan, for some of the furniture. And some in green, to match the stripes?” She points to the large, squashy chair that she had been sitting in before. “I think that one would look lovely in green.”

“Sure,” Basil agrees, squeezing Sibyl’s hand. He pauses quietly, looking around the room. “It’s not the same as the house in Abbey Orchard.” Is this perhaps a bit of nostalgia from the man as he glances around at the walls with their partially affixed stripes. “I suppose I should have taken up your offer to teach me better cooking techniques when you wanted to teach me before,” he finally admits, glancing over to her. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.” Shaking his head, it almost seems as if Basil is having second thoughts about his change of employment.

“You pick that up pretty quickly too,” Sibyl replies comfortably, giving her husband’s hand another reassuring squeeze. “And I’ll be home all summer, so we can work on it together. I’m sure you’ll learn how to cook in no time – half of it is following recipes, and I know you’ll be good at that. Always so careful and exact.” Her smile softens fondly, and she shifts her weight on the couch, leaning closer to Basil and further back against the cushions. “We can see if any of the children want to help, too. I doubt Briony would stay still long enough to listen, of course.” Sibyl looks briefly heavenward, with a grin of affectionate exasperation. “But Alden and Alice might like learning to cook. Good practice for their Potions classes, too, really.” Her hand tightens around her husband’s again, and she adds, more softly, “You’re going to do fine, Basil. I know you will.”

“Briony’s little friend is going to be in Hogsmeade this summer, she said, so I don’t expect we’ll see any more of her this summer than last.” Basil shakes his head and slyly rolls his eyes. “She’s just like Eva that way. I’m still not sure how that’s even possible.” With a sigh, he shakes his head again. “It’ll do Alice and Alden some good, at least. Alden won’t be able to stay in the tower all the time.” Another pause and he looks at Sibyl with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it… I don’t know how you ever did it.” He pauses. “Maybe I can do my work by correspondence, and … take them with me on research assignments.”

Sibyl‘s only response to Basil’s observations about Briony is another comfortable, affectionate laugh, and a shake of her own head. “I know you’ll be able to do it,” she repeats, a little more seriously. “I think taking them on your research assignments is a fine idea. Finding little trips and things to take with the children is one way to pass the time, and to keep their minds – and your own – sharp.” Sibyl sighs, leaning farther back, as she muses, “It’s both harder and easier than you think, staying home with the children. I don’t know how I did it at first, but I got through it – and I was much younger and more foolish than we are now, when I left nursing to stay home with Briony.”

“I wonder if they’d let me do that,” Basil comments, leaning back. “Or…” The man’s face lights up as if he has thought of something brilliant. “Well, I doubt they’d let me back on since I quit like I did, and so quickly, but what if we wrote our own newspaper, Alden, Alice and me?” He looks to Sibyl with wide eyes. “We could send it to my family and to yours, or at least our parents, and keep everyone updated on things. It could be a way of writing letters almost.” He sits up, the fervor that often fired him up in his early days of journalism returning to his face after years of absence.

Sibyl knows that smile, and her own grows wider and warmer as she watches her husband’s face light up with enthusiasm. “That is an absolutely wonderful idea,” she pronounces. “The perfect thing to do! I can’t wait to read it. Truly, I can’t! I’ve missed so much of what’s been going on with the little ones, and this way, I’ll be able to know everything about what they’re doing. And once I start leaving this little one home for longer times,” Sibyl adds, giving her rounded belly a light pat, as her bright eyes shade towards wistfulness, “I’ll be able to keep up on what it’s doing, too.”

“Well, it can’t help all that much, I imagine,” Basil answers quickly, putting his hands on his knees. “But we’ll likely to be able to get the out weekly, if not more than that, and it will be good learning for them. Perhaps Alden will choose a career at the Prophet, or go on to do that Wireless thing that’s catching on so well, and he’ll rise to the top of his rank, and…” Basil trails off, “We can call it the Wexler Weekly, and create artwork for it, a specific design, everything. They’ll learn all about how a paper is created.” He leans back with a rather rapturous look on his face.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting the little one to contribute personally,” Sibyl laughs, giving her husband a playful nudge. “Just that you’d write about it.” As Basil starts to get caught up in his enthusiasm, Sibyl falls silent, letting him speak, and just watches, a warm, affectionate smile spreading her face as she watches her husband. “We’ll start this summer,” she offers. “So that Alden can have a chance to help before he goes off to school. And then you and Alice can keep it up after the term starts. Unless you’d like to keep Alden on as a traveling correspondent?” Sibyl is only half-joking – even though her tone is light, there is a core of honest interest and encouragement as she speaks about her husband’s new project.

“Oh, right. Right.” Basil shrugs as Sibyl points this out, seeming to let it roll off of him for the time being. “Oh, right, Alden is off to school, isn’t he? Hmm. Well, I suppose it could be Alice who goes into the Prophet after all.” The man shrugs again and smiles warmly to his wife. “I don’t know that he’ll have time to be a correspondent when he’s supposed to be worked on his studies. He isn’t to distract himself any more than Briony is.” He says this quite firmly and turns a bit on the couch to face her more closely. “It will still be good, though. Alice can help me copy things down and she’ll learn just as well.” He nods as he says this, though the inspiration does seem somewhat diminished as his team is lessened by this realization.

“Of course she will,” Sibyl agrees, lifting her head in unconscious defense of her youngest daughter. “Alice has a good head on her shoulders – I’m sure she’ll take to it. And if it turns out that it isn’t to her taste, well, at least she’ll have had a chance to try. They all will. And I’m sure that Alden will be very conscientious in his studies.” Sibyl glances up, as if her son were already in the tower room that had been reserved for him, and smiles fondly. “He’s going to do wonderfully.”

“He ought to for the amount of time he spends reading books. He doesn’t play with Eva’s kids the way Alice has been, so he ought to at last do well for the schoolwork.” Basil chuckles as he says this, leaning back on the couch and reaching his arm up over Sibyl as he turns a bit toward her. He reaches out tentatively and leans his hand on her belly. He almost seems as if he’s afraid, just as he had been with Briony, but this time, there’s more excitement and perhaps a bit of calm there, even. “Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”

Sibyl leans comfortably back into the circle of her husband’s arm. “It won’t break if you touch it,” she says, as she has so many times before, with a soft, murmuring laugh. “And neither will I. And I haven’t any idea, really. It hasn’t given me any indication of what it might be. I still think that another boy would be nice, to make two of each, but I can’t be sure. And I don’t really like ask anyone to use Divination for something like this. I like surprises,” she finishes contentedly, lifting her own hand to cover her husband’s, spreading her fingers out across the wide rounded arch of her belly.

“Oh, Divination is mostly horsehockey anyway. The “seers” we had at the Prophet had no idea what they were talking about. Most of them predicted Diagon Alley would self-implode at least once a week, or else that all muggles would miraculously gain magical ability.” Basil sighs as he says this, rubbing his hand idly over her belly. “I hope it’s a boy, too. Alden’s told me no less than five times to make sure that it’s a boy. I don’t think he quite understands.” Basil chuckles as he says this. “I suppose I’ll have to explain it to him again. He still keeps telling me that girls are gross and he’s never going to want to marry one.” A pause. “You don’t think he means that, do you?”

“He’s young, and he quarrels with his sisters,” Sibyl reassures her husband. She lets her head tilt back and lets out a contented sigh under the soothing motion of Basil’s hand, and lets her own hand slip off, coming to rest on his arm as she continues, “You probably didn’t have a very high opinion of girls at his age, either. And I know I didn’t want to spend any more time around boys than I absolutely had to.” Sibyl smiles, and even though her eyes have drifted shut, her voice is still clear and alert. “When the time is right, he’ll like girls.”

“Well, no…” Basil admits, but then frowns. “But if you consider that Eva was all I had to go by, it’s no wonder I didn’t want anything to do with them.” He sighs audibly as he says this, but then reaches up and runs his fingers over Sibyl’s face. “But you’re not like Eva at all.” For Basil, this seems to be the highest possible compliment he can give. “I’m sure he’ll come around and find someone almost as good as his mother.” Basil still blushes as he says this, even after years of being married, he still has ‘newlywed’ moments.

She’s entirely ignored Basil’s comments about his own sister, but at the last compliment, a soft chuckle sounds, low in Sibyl‘s throat, and her smile broadens, and her eyes open long enough to catch the slight pinkening of her husband’s face. “You’re sweet,” she pronounces, lifting her head to plant a light kiss on his cheek, and then leaning back again. “Alden will turn out all right, because he’s got a good father whose example he can follow.” She lifts her hand to catch Basil’s in hers, twining her fingers through his for a moment, and then letting them slip away.

“I’m just honest, is all,” he tells her softly, drawing his hand down over her hair and smiling happily. “And if Alden’s got any brains in his head, then he’ll know that’s all he needs to get someone who he doesn’t deserve.” Sighing, he leans in and kisses her cheek gently. “Let’s hope he catches the lesson, though.” With a chuckle, he looks out into the room. “Merlin, it’s so big. I don’t know what we’re going to do, just Alice and the baby and me in this huge house. Why didn’t we get that tiny one closer into town? At least I wouldn’t feel like we’re wasting the space.” Basil begins to sound like a bit of an old woman as he says this, though it contrasts quite greatly with his face.

“Because when we’re all home on holiday, we’d be tripping over each other and getting our spells crossed and being utterly miserable,” Sibyl declares with absolute confidence. “And with all this space, we can have Christmas here.” Sibyl opens her eyes, and lifts her head to look around at the wide expanse of floor stretching from the living room through the dining room. “We can easily fit my family in here – maybe even some of yours, too. That’s what we’ll do with the space,” Sibyl concludes, lying back again, with a slightly dreamy note in her voice now. “When you have space, you can fill it with people.”

“We can go to my mum’s house if we want to see my family; I’d much rather have yours.” He shakes his head and laughs a bit, leaning back and leaning his head atop hers. “It’s been a little while since we saw your brother, anyway. Is he married yet, or does he still want you to fight his fights for him?” Clearly, Basil hasn’t been paying quite as much attention as he ought into family matters. “Oh, I guess we should have Gil over. Kalika’s expecting anytime now, I guess. I have to say, there are far too many Wexlers already; I figure this one will get overshadowed by its many cousins.” He sighs as he says this, the romantic thoughts having clearly slipped out of his mind now in favor of family thoughts.

A gentle, reproachful nudge is Sibyl‘s first answer to Basil’s question about her brother – still defending him, even as she says, “He’s doing quite well, thank you! And no, not married yet, but doing very well for himself. We’ll have him and my sisters up for Christmas. And yes, we can have a few of your brothers over, too. One at a time, if you prefer,” she adds, with a soft laugh. Sibyl tilts her head to the side, nestling closer to her husband as he leans in towards her. “But after the little one is born. And I’m sure it will do just fine with its cousins. No matter how many cousins there are by then…”

“Well, I just wanted to know, that’s all,” Basil defends himself, shrugging, though there is a grin on his face. “I just wanted to know if you should still be looking after him like at school. Do you think Briony’ll do that for Alden?” He pauses. “I should hope not. I’m sure I taught him to stick up for himself better than that.” A half-shrug comes from him and he sighs a bit. “Why do they have to grow up and go away, and do dangerous things? I mean, who knows how many things Briony could blow up by trying things she oughtn’t. And that Quidditch. I’m pleased that Alice doesn’t seem to want to do it. I don’t think either of them would like very much getting hit by a bludger.” He shakes his head at the thought of it, which clearly doesn’t please him. Always back to the Quidditch, as well.

“I should hope they’ll look out for each other,” Sibyl retorts, with just the slightest pointed note in her voice as she looks back up at Basil. When her husband resumes his familiar, fretful litany, Sibyl lets out a soft sigh of her own, and pats his hand again. “And they’ll look out for themselves. I hope our Briony won’t get hurt either, and I know how reckless she can be sometimes, but she’ll learn. We did,” she points out gently, with a little mischievous twinkle in her eyes now. “Potions mishaps, Transfigurations gone wrong…”

“Just… hopefully she won’t blow up the kitchen or something.” He shrugs and sighs as he says this, running his hand up and down her arm gently. He stops about the Quidditch for now, though. “We ought to see about making the table a little bigger for the dining room. It’ll fit now, full size, and except this one here,” he pats Sibyl’s stomach as he says this, “Everyone can reach it at full height anyway.” He chuckles as he says this. “I expect Alice is about to have another spurt. She’s done that thing where they get a little round before they grow really fast. Remember when Briony did that right before she went off to school?” He pauses. “Well, of course you do.” Basil shakes his head as he says this and smiles a bit, clearly having put the thoughts of danger out of his head for the moment.

“I do,” Sibyl replies contentedly. Now that her husband’s moment of anxiety seems to be passing, Sibyl lets herself relax a little more – there is no need to steady Basil, and no need to be on guard. “She shot right up, and I’m sure Alice will do the same. And I’m sure Alden’s getting taller, too – he’s almost up past my shoulder now. We’ll need to get new robes for all of them. Although Alice might be able to use Briony’s old school robes when it’s her turn. If there are any that Briony hasn’t put holes in,” Sibyl adds, with an affectionate laugh.

“I doubt that, really,” Basil comments with a rueful shake of his head. “Maybe if Alden’s not too big when he starts, she can use his robes from first year, but I doubt Briony will have any that are really salvagable.” He pauses. “And you know how much she hates hand-me-downs as it is; I’d rather not give her any that have been patched or look too worn.” It seems that Basil has been paying attention over the years after all. “She actually complained at me for it when she put on one of Briony’s old dresses and it was too wide for her. I guess I never realized that Briony was a bit, er, larger… I guess, than Alice.” He shrugs. It is, perhaps, a good thing that he has never noticed this.

“She complained at you?” Sibyl repeats, her voice rising a note or two in surprise and concern. “Oh, dear. Well, we’ll have to make more of an effort to get her a few new things this year. It will be tight – but with two of them just needing school-uniform robes instead of all sorts of new clothes, maybe we’ll have a few more Galleons left over to get Alice some new dresses. It’s hard on her being the youngest, I suppose – so few new things, the others always having gotten there first…” Sibyl trails off, grinning as she corrects herself, “Well, she won’t be the youngest for long. But that won’t make a difference in clothes, really.”

“Well, she did mention it once or twice, especially when I dug out some more of Briony’s old dresses. I think she might like it better if she had some new things of her own.” Basil shrugs a bit. “I imagine some of my brothers might’ve felt the same, since they got my own hand-me-downs.” After a pause, he retracts this statement. “Actually, only Logan did, because by the time he was done with them, they were too worn to go to Jared, Gilbert or Freddie. I don’t think Logan ever complained to me, though.” He shrugs and reaches up, running his fingers down over Sibyl’s hair. “I’ll do some features for the Prophet if I need to this summer. Then we won’t have to worry about it. We’ve paid for most of this house already, plus with our savings. I’m sure we could put off the vacation another year or so…” He sighs. “I’m sure we can manage it.” It seems fateful that Alice and Alden should both come tearing into the house, giggling between themselves. “Dad, have you got the paper? Briony told us you got posters for the walls, too… did you really? Do I have to have Quidditch posters in my room, really?” Alice chimes, coming to stop rather breathlessly near the couch where her parents sit cozily, Alden close on her heels. Briony comes tearing in just a moment later, laughing louder than the two previous had combined. “You cheated!” she calls, and this echoes through the whole of the house.

“We’ll manage,” Sibyl agrees, giving her husband’s hand another reassuring pat, and leaning her head into his hand, smiling at the affectionate gesture. And then – the storm hits. With a sigh of fond, amused exasperation, as her children go tearing through the still-empty rooms of the new house, Sibyl hauls herself into a more upright sitting position, calling out, “Slow down!” Despite her contented serenity of a few moments before, Sibyl juggles her children’s questions with a sudden, efficient ease. “Yes, we’ve got the paper, and yes, Briony may have whatever she likes on her side of the room and you may have whatever you like on yours, Alice, and Briony, careful, there’s going to be a table right where you just ran through, so don’t get too used to doing that!”

“Oh, really? But she doesn’t even live here most of the time? Can’t she put them at school?” Alice sighs loudly as Sibyl tells her this and seems resigned to it. Briony scoffs from her side of the room, but shrugs. “I’m going to go upstairs and pick my side of the room now. Last one up’s a rotten egg!” With that loud exclaimation, her footsteps are heard tromping up the stairs, while her brother and sister both protest. “No fair! You got a head start!” and they also make their way upward. Basil looks at Sibyl with raised eyebrows. “Do you see what you’ve left me to? The lion’s den…” He looks over his shoulder at the now-departed children, trying, momentarily to ignore the shouts and giggles from atop the stairs until he hears a rather loud thud and a shriek. “Oh, no.” His voice is rather flat as he says this and he closes his eyes. “I suppose we’d better go take care of that. Would you like some help up the stairs?”

“Oh no,” Sibyl says, almost in unison with her husband, and her eyes take on the alert, watchful look of the professional nurse. “Yes and yes,” she says quickly, already starting to wriggle herself forward, struggling out of the deep, soft cushions of the couch. “Oof. And a hand up, too, I think,” Sibyl sighs, reaching out to brace herself against her husband’s arm. “You’ll manage on your own, love – oof! I know you will,” she continues, her comforting words starting to be broken up by little grunts of effort as she starts to push herself up. “But better to – oof! – take advantage of it while we’re both here.”

Basil helps her up, and slips one arm around her as the two of them make their way toward the stairs. Though it is not their usual way of walking together, Basil seems to be doing just fine at helping her and slowly helps her toward and up the stairs. They disappear out of sight to deal with whatever it is that has happened upstairs, going about the usual family way of things, though perhaps in a more subdued and pleasant mood than might usually be.

Bustling alongside her husband, her arm looped through his, Sibyl Wexler makes her way down the winding streets of outer Hogsmeade at an energetic waddle. “Oh, this is lovely!” she breathes, tilting her plump, pregnancy-rounded face up to gaze at the budding trees that arch overhead on the picturesque street. “A bit out of the way of the center of town, but oh, it’s beautiful! Where’s the house that the estate agent was talking about, love? You’ve still got the card with the address on it, don’t you?” Sibyl returns her attention to earth in a sudden buzz of practicality, but her dreamy smile remains.

“It’s right here,” Basil responds, holding the card out as he looks from the card, then back up at the house. “Do you think we’ll be allowed to look inside? I’ll want to make sure it’s sturdy enough. It doesn’t look like it’s got a good foundation on it. Likely very shoddy.” Looking at houses all day has got the man a little irritable and perhaps a bit hypercritical, but even he seems pleased with this one more than the others that they have looked at so far. “Tell me, why did I agree to this again?” he asks for what must be the fiftieth time.

“Of course they’ll let us inside,” Sibyl replies soothingly, giving her husband’s arm a pat. “And you can look at the foundations and beams and everything to your heart’s content.” She unlaces her arm from Basil’s, and moves up closer to the house – a large, slightly aging building with a small tower sticking up at the top, and elaborately carved woodwork around the eaves, painted in a cheerful shade of yellow with dark green trim. “Now isn’t that lovely,” Sibyl muses. “Look at the tower – I bet Alden would love that, being off in his own little world…” Sibyl tilts her head, studying the house with narrowed eyes, sharp and critical despite her cheerful daydreams. “And you’re doing this because you want to move closer to us, love,” she adds, her voice and gaze softening as she looks back at her husband. “And we’ll all be happier if we’re living closer together.”

“I hated looking for houses the first time around,” Basil comments and walks up to the house, pushing on an outer wall, as if the house might crumble as he does this. “Can you tell how long it’s been since someone last lived here?” He wonders aloud. “Why did they move to begin with, anyway? What’s wrong with the place that they didn’t want to stay?” Basil appears to be full of doubts, even about this, the best and nicest house yet. “Perhaps we ought to talk to that agent and see what he has to say about this one, whether he can point out what its problems are.”

“I know, love,” Sibyl soothes, waddling over to Basil to give him another pat on the arm. “But once we find one that we like, we won’t need to look again for a good long time. And I’d like to take a look without the agent first,” she continues, moving on to survey the shutters, poking up at them with one critical finger. “You know, discovering things on our own?” The grin that Sibyl aims back over her shoulder at her husband is touched with just a hint of conspiratorial mischief. “And then we’ll hear what he thinks.” She reaches a hand out to Basil, beckoning him towards her. “Come on – let’s see if it’s unlocked!”

“Well, I suppose if nobody lives here…” He agrees, though reluctantly. After all, it was what they were here for anyway, right? Striding up to the door, he jiggles the handle apprehensively and glances around, and then pushes the door open. “I guess it’s unlocked,” he comments and shrugs. Basil doesn’t look entirely pleased by this, but he steps inside the house nevertheless, pausing in the entry hall as his voice echoes throughout the empty rooms. “Well, it’s got space, at least,” is all he can say at first as he looks around, scrutinizing the ceiling.

“Oh, my, I didn’t think it would be!” Sibyl cries, hurrying after Basil with an excited, girlish giggle. “Oh, it’s lovely! Look at that chandelier in the dining room – do you think those are spots for real candles, or those new Automatic Ever-Burners?” The floor creaks slightly under her quick, heavy footsteps as she moves around the living room and dining room – not enough to suggest that it is unsound, just old and creaking in the way that old houses do. “And yes, look at that ceiling! Plenty of space in here!” Sibyl reaches up to run a finger across the mantel of the enormous fireplace, rubbing the dust off with a critical frown, but what she says is, “Lovely big fireplace – plenty of room to Floo in,” as she moves past. “Is the kitchen this way, do you think?” Her voice floats back through the echoing empty rooms as she moves off through the dining room towards the back of the house.

Basil, for his own part, is more concerned about checking the steps of the stairs, the bannister, the walls, the ceilings, and almost every structural aspect of the home, as if bound and determined to find something that could damn this house as well. “The stairs are solid,” he comments, and though his voice still echoes through the emptiness of the house, it doesn’t echo loudly, since he is more intent on checking them over once more, while also checking the bannister again as he descends the stairs. “How’s the kitchen?” he calls.

“Oh, good,” Sibyl calls back. “Don’t go up without me, love.” Her heavy footsteps recede towards the back of the house, but her voice is strong enough to carry through the network of doorways and corners. “The kitchen is wonderful! There’s a huge fireplace in here too, and – oh, plenty of cabinet space, and one of those new cutting boards that cuts the vegetables for you. Everything’s very well-kept – oh, and there’s a back door that leads to a garden in back.”

“There’s a garden?” Basil comments and looks around the corner into what looks like it might have been a livingroom. He walks through the room, stepping carefully on the boards, checking for creaks. “It looks like it has hardly been lived in. How peculiar,” he comments, stepping over to yet another fireplace that the house holds and pushing on the mantlepiece with a scrutinizing gaze. “Did the agent say how many fireplaces this house was supposed to have? I mean, how many do we need?” he comments, looking over the walls in the room, which also seem to be adorned with sconces.

“I think they said three fireplaces?” Sibyl replies, her voice lowering as she waddles back out into the dining room, drawing closer to Basil again. “And four bedrooms – well, four bedrooms and one more ‘extra room,’ they said. I think that extra room must be the one in the tower, and I do think Alden would love that, if it’s the sort of room I think it is. Here, let’s take a look upstairs. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to see down here?”

“Three…” he comments and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, I don’t want him to be stuck up in that tower as his bedroom. He’d never come down.” As his wife suggests looking over the upstairs, he nods and walks toward the stairs. “Do you need some help up, Sibyl? They’re sturdy stairs, but I imagine they’d be a little akward?” Basil pauses at the foot of the stairs as he says this, waiting for Sibyl to join him, his arms still crossed.

“He would when he’s ready,” Sibyl replies, her voice taking on the familiar soothing tone that it so often must when she’s talking about her son to her husband. She starts to follow Basil towards the stairs, her eyes narrowing skeptically as she measures the angle and steepness. “Well. . . yes, I think I might need a hand up,” Sibyl sighs, and slips her hand through the closed-off crook of her husband’s arm, giving him another reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Let’s see the upstairs.”

Holding his arm out and uncrossing his arms, Basil reaches one arm around Sibyl and reaches the other out to hold her hand and help her up the stairs. “It’s the one very good thing, though, that these stairs are so good. No worries about Alden or Alice or Briony falling through at any time.” He makes his way slowly up the stairs, helping Sibyl all the way. “So there are four bedrooms? I suppose, then, we can have one for each of them to sleep in, rather than Alice and Briony sharing the room?” He pauses as he finally reaches the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway that follows, and peers at a rope that hangs down at the end.

Leaning heavily back into the supporting circle of her husband’s arm, Sibyl makes her way awkwardly up the stairs. “No – no chance of – anyone falling,” she agrees, puffing slightly with exertion on the steep climb, but giving Basil an affectionate grin through her reddened cheeks. “Yes – that’s right. Unless they want to share, of course.” With a breathless sigh of relief, she straightens up again upon the return to flat ground. “Although Briony’s getting to the age where she’s probably going to want her own – Oh my,” Sibyl interrupts herself to say, and reaches out to catch hold of Basil’s arm again. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the rope with her other hand. “A trap door to the attic, do you think?”

“I suppose that’s what it is,” he responds, releasing his support of Sibyl as he goes to look into the nearest room. “How excessive,” he comments, pausing in the doorway to spy a room with a long windowseat, and a large open closet. “Who needs this much space in a bedroom?” Basil turns and looks over his shoulder at Sibyl before stepping the rest of the way into the room. Sconces line the walls and he walks around the room, tapping periodically on the walls to test their resiliency and solidity.

Sibyl‘s heavy footsteps creak on the floor as she moves to follow her husband. “Oh, it’s lovely!” she breathes, peering through the door into the room. “Basil, that could be our room! Look at that closet – and you can see the back garden from the windowseat! It would need a coat of paint or two, but that’s easily done.” She cocks her head, listening to the sound of her husband’s hand knocking against the walls. “Do you hear any hollow places?” Sibyl asks, her eyebrows lifting mischievously. “I’m sure a wonderful old place like this has at least one secret passage.”

“Nothing hollow,” Basil states quickly, then pauses to look at Sibyl. “Secret passage ways? Oh no. No, no. Eva used those far too much for ill purposes. I’ve never seen the point, anyhow.” He shakes his head and comes to stand in the middle of the room. “The walls in here are solid at least. The pink paint makes me think that it must have been a girl’s room before.” He pauses. “It’s far too big to put a child in, though.” He shakes his head again. What is it that Basil has against this house, which makes him critisize it so heavily?

“Which is why I said it should be our room, and why we can paint it,” Sibyl declares, a note of reproach in her voice in response to Basil’s negativity tempered by affection and a kiss on his cheek. “Come on, love, let’s look at the rest of the rooms. And at that place with the rope – although if it goes to one of those pull-down ladders, you’re going up it by yourself!” she adds, with a bright laugh. Still, Sibyl‘s eyes are slightly narrowed as she looks up at Basil, and she searches his frowning expression with a little concern of her own.

“Well, I suppose so. It could use better wallpaper, that’s for certain.” He shrugs and turns, making his way out of the room and crossing the hall. Looking into the next room, he seems almost perplexed at seeing an almost duplicate copy of the one opposite it, though the size is ever so slightly smaller. “The extravagance…” he comments and shakes his head. “Did the agent listen to our price requests? This must be terribly expensive to have such area.” Basil‘s eyebrows knit together and he turns to look at Sibyl. “I mean, two rooms of this size, and who knows how large the third is, plus the tower? We aren’t made out of money.” The man looks genuinely concerned.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Sibyl asks in honest surprise, her eyes going wide as she hurries to keep up with her husband. “Basil, love, I’m working now, too, you know. We’ve got more money now, and even if this house is at the top of our range, it’s still in our range.” Sibyl reaches out to put her hand on Basil’s arm again, soothing and steadying. “Really, love, it will be all right. The last room looks much smaller,” she continues, pointing down the hallway towards another half-open door. “That will be perfect for the nursery. And look, there are the steps up to the tower…”

“If we put the nursery in here, and then put Alice and Briony over there, in the blue room…” Basil pauses and looks to the stairs toward the tower, a sense of resignation seeming to settle over him. “I suppose Alden will have to sleep up there, then.” Striding past the rope hanging down for what appears to be a separate attic, Basil starts slowly ascending the narrow stairway, testing each step as he goes. “This bedroom is quite as big as the others are,” he calls, sounding quite shocked as he starts stomping the floor to test the floor boards and tapping the walls.

“He’ll love it, Basil,” Sibyl reiterates, but her voice is still gentle, and softened by the affectionate thought of her son as she gazes up the stairs towards the tower. “He’d ask for it himself, once he saw this place.” Her voice echoes off of the narrow walls of the tower staircase, and a footstep creaks on the bottom stair. “It’s that big, really?” Sibyl calls up. “Here – let me see if I can get up there…”

“They’re narrow stairs, do you need some help?” Basil calls down, though, the fact that she’s started her way up does make it difficult for him to help in this case. He does go to the stairs and descend several steps, looking down at her with a concerned expression on her face. “Do you?” Pausing, he looks back over his shoulder. “I can assure you it’s every bit as big as the other rooms. Alden wouldn’t suffer for it, though he’d best not use the stove that’s up here without warning.”

“Yes, I think I do,” Sibyl admits with a sigh, and reaches up to her husband with one hand, still leaning heavily on the railing with the other. “Just a bit of a tug, thank you, love. And I’m sure Alden will be happy that his room is as big as the others. Really, having the three older children’s rooms the same size will make everything much easier – nobody can quarrel over whose is bigger. And we’ll check out that stove before anyone uses it,” she adds – for once, Sibyl‘s adamance matches her husband’s in matters of safety.

“Alright,” he comments and steps downward to take Sibyl’s hand and help get her up the stairs. “I don’t suppose he’ll have much reason to use it anyway. He’s never had any interest in cooking or anything of that sort.” After Sibyl has been helped up the stairs, he lets go of her hand and steps into the room. “There’s good light, though. And we’ll want to change the wallpapering. Alden won’t like the yellow.” He shrugs a bit and taps on the wall. “It’s all built well, at least. Nothing weak or breaking.” Basil walks over to the window and looks out with a bit of a shudder, quickly looking back in.

“Oof! Thank you, love,” Sibyl says again, with a soft grunt of exertion as she hauls herself up the stairs. “Oh my – oh – very nice,” she agrees, still panting as she tries to catch her breath. “Lovely – lovely view. And yes – we’ll let him choose the color. We could let each of the children choose the color of their room – they’ll like doing that. Choosing within reason, of course,” Sibyl adds with a grin, holding up a hand to forestall the protest that she predicts is coming from her husband. “And Briony only gets one pick – she can’t change her mind after it’s done.”

“She’ll have to agree with Alice about it, and I’ll say it now — no Quidditch papers. Alice would never forgive her.” Basil chuckles a bit, thinking of how different each of their children is. “Well, she’d never forgive us, either.” He shrugs as he says this. “I guess we should go talk to the agent about this? It’s more than big enough for us.” He looks to Sibyl, directly not looking out the window, and reaches to put his arms around her. “And hope he doesn’t arrest us for coming in without asking, I suppose.” Basil diverts his eyes as he says this and then shrugs. He won’t think of it for this moment.

Sibyl slips her arms around her husband, leaning up against him – but also turning him away from the window with its dizzyingly high view, as she reaches up to gently guide his face down towards hers for a soft kiss. “Don’t worry, love. It will all work out.” When Sibyl tilts her head back, she is already grinning widely. “I knew you would love it!”

“Well, it’s going to need some work before we can call it ours, but I suppose it’s alright.” This is Basil-speak for ‘I don’t think we could have found anything better anywhere in the country.’ “Should we go straight to the agent?” he asks, turning completely away from the window so that he doesn’t end up glancing out it anymore. “I don’t want someone else getting it first, and then us have to go searching again.” It is very clear that he has not entirely enjoyed their house-hunting excursions.

Perfectly familiar with translating from Basil to Everyone Else, Sibyl lets out a bright laugh, and plants another kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Yes, let’s do that. I would hate to lose such a lovely house!” Sibyl slips her arm through Basil’s tugging him gently towards the staircase – and away from the perilous view of the window. “Oh – and we should see what that rope is, too, on the way down.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the agent to go look at that. After all, who knows what’s up there, and if we make a mess, I’d hate to lose the house for — er — breaking in.” He shrugs and pauses as he gets to the stair case, bracing one arm on the banister and holding the other up to help Sibyl down. “Let’s take it slow. These are narrow stairs.” Should Sibyl give him her hand, Basil starts to make his way slowly down the stairs backwards until he’s down on the landing of the second floor again. “As soon as we get it, we’ve got to go get some new paper. Do you think we’ll be able to borrow Briony for a weekend?”

An unaccustomed bit of apprehension flickers in Sibyl‘s eyes as she looks down the steep, narrow stairs – but it eases into a fond smile when Basil edges around her, and she holds her hands out to her husband, leaning steadily on his supporting hands. On flat ground again, Sibyl lets out a heavy breath, half gasp and half sigh, and leans sideways towards Basil for a moment, resting against him. “Oh, I’m sure we will. There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, so most of the students will be gone anyway – I’m sure we could get her then.”

“These ones aren’t so narrow,” He comments, sliding his arms around Sibyl and pausing for a moment before starting down the next set of stairs slowly. “I’m so glad we found something. I was beginning to think we’d just have to build something, and I tell you, I don’t want to try to build while I’m trying to keep up with Alden and Alice and still working at the Prophet.” He shakes his head slowly and finally reaches the bottom of the stairs. “So, to the agent now?” Basil looks to his wife as he says this, pausing very close to the front door.

“It’s all worked out,” Sibyl murmurs, under the steady, fretful stream of her husband’s anxious words. She slips her arm around Basil’s back in return, giving him a gentle, reassuring hug at the same time that she pulls herself closer to lean more heavily on him as they begin their slow descent of the staircase. “Yes,” she replies, with a smile. “Let’s go to the agent. I’ve told them to expect either an owl or a visit sometime soon.” Despite Sibyl‘s soothing tone, her enthusiasm continues to bubble just below the surface, rising up in another excited grin as she looks around the first floor of the house. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asks, pulling her husband closer.

Nodding to Sibyl, Basil leans in to kiss her cheek. “It’s terrific,” he tells her as sincerely as he can manage, which is pretty good, all things considered. Stepping outside, he breathes in deeply. “Not a moment too soon. It’s starting to get dark, and Eva will wonder what’s keeping us.” Whether she actually will or not is debatable, but it is clear that Basil wants to finalize this as quickly as possible. He begins down the road and starts walking toward where the agent’s shop is, intent on making the deal as quickly and as frugally as he can.

Fingers intwined, gently tugging on her arm to lead her to the courtyard, Joseph affects a rather self-assured smile, a sort of knowing, thoughtful expression. “Alright, here.” He offers quietly as they enter the courtyard. “The present isn’t something that I had to take you here to see, but it’s rather more private in here than in the common room.” Offering only this by way of an explanation, he releases her hand, stepping back and leaning back against a wall, watching her in silence, silently begging her to ask what his purpose is, what the surprise birthday present is.

“Can I open my eyes now?” she asks, reaching forward with her arm until she touches his chest with her fingertips. She does cheat ever so slightly and peek one eyelid open to check to see where she is. Ah, the courtyard. “So, can I?” she asks again, stepping forward a little closer to him, with her eye shut again. Noémie doesn’t want to cheat too much, after all. It’s her surprise!

Shaking his head – not that Noémie can actually see him, but it’s the principle of the thing – Joseph is silent for a moment before offering, “No, not yet,” and leaning forward and kissing her. As well as being part of the surprise, this ensures that she is thoroughly distracted and is therefore not necessarily going to notice as he slips the silver band off his finger and, taking her right hand, slips it onto hers. It’s rather too big, his hands being bigger than hers, but it’s the principle of the thing.

In his estimations that she will be distracted, Joseph is quite right and she leans against him rather comfortably, leaning her head on his shoulder. However, as she feels something cold slipping onto her right hand, her eyes fly open and she stands up. “Oh, my!” She exclaims, putting her hand closer to her face to examine it. “It’s so pretty, Joseph!” Noémie seems to be quite pleased with her gift and, in fact, throws her arms around Joseph’s neck, kissing at his face enthusiastically.

Flushed quite pink, Joseph only replies sheepishly, “It’s – it’s nothing really special, it’s more sentimental than anything. I’ve worn it myself for a long time, so my hand feels sort of naked and empty without it.” Then, he chuckles softly to himself and explains, in the language of teenage boys who don’t know what else to say so fall back on corny compliments, “But it’s appropriate, because I feel naked and empty without you, Noémie.” At this point, he really does run out of things to say, and so dissipates his embarassment by returning her excited kisses, his arms snaking around her waist.

Listening to his comments about the ring, Noémie‘s face pinkens and she seems to go temporarily weak in the knees as she looks at the ring more closely, transferring it from her regular ring finger over to her thumb so that it won’t fall off. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she tells him, rapturous eyes turned up towards him as she just looks at him for a moment. It seems a moment before it occurs to her that now might be the appropriate time to give her gift to him. “Oh!” she exclaims aloud and detatches herself from his arms carefully, pointing out her wand. “Accio gift!” is said loudly, and soon a rather large box comes flying on its way towards her, though it takes a moment in coming.

Smiling at the prefect, cheeks still flushed quite brightly pink, Joseph seems totally devoid of any comeback except for, “That’s my job. Saying ridiculously sweet things to you, and beating down any other guy who dares to try.” As the box flies in, he raises his eyebrows, glancing between it and Noémie. “Er. Is this my birthday present, or are you just going to open the rest of your gifts in front of me, just to taunt me?”

“I’ll tell Rupert to watch his back then,” Noémie quips with a grin, and then brandishes the gift, wrapped in green with ample amounts of blue ribbon. “It’s for you, smartie-pants. You ought to know me better than that.” The box is rather sizable, and being filled entirely with gourmet sweets of various kinds, as well as a book of recipes for candy making, is rather heavy. “I hope it doesn’t pale in comparison.” She can’t help but look down at her own ring, and though she finds herself thinking of resizing it, the sentiment in which it has been given is mostly what is on her mind.

“Yeah, he’d better watch his back.” Joseph replies sternly, planting his hands on his hips and looking very pointedly at Noémie. “Or I’ll clock him one when he’s least expecting it. And you wouldn’t want me to get in trouble again.” Distracted at this point by the fact that, indeed, it is his gift, he bends down to open it – then, spying what is within it, wastes now time in springing upright again and seizing Noémie around the waist, kissing her firmly before she has a chance to step away. Does it pale in comparison? Well, if it does, this ought to fix it.

Giggling a bit as he draws her in again, Noémie watches as he sets the gift carefully down on the ground and then rather happily leans against him again, kissing him back quite enthusiastically. A better birthday, she could not have hoped for herself. Even as a light rain begins to trickle down over their heads, she does not even pause, instead snaking her arms up around his neck and rising ever so slightly on tiptoes. The better to kiss him with, of course!

The rain, of course, simply means that other people are far less likely to randomly walk in and interrupt them; for his part, Joseph seems not at all put out by the rain, pulling the prefect closer with one arm, the other hand running through her hair and brushing against the back of her neck. When he does inch back from her after a moment, it is only to smile a little sheepishly and whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, “Happy birthday, weeping willow tree Noémie.”

“Happy birthday, Joseph,” Noémie responds rather cheerfully, glancing up at the rain and then shaking her head. Rain had never yet ruined her birthday, and it certainly wasn’t going to marr this one. The girl giggles a bit and deliberately runs her hands backwards through his hair, grinning as it stands on end. As there is nobody else in the courtyard, and few who would venture into this part of it, the more secluded area, she feels comfortable leaning up and kissing him quite enthusiastically, with complete disregard of whatever could happen. Happy birthday, indeed.

Rain might not be putting a damper on a certain birthday, but it sure put a certain billy goat out of sorts! Some students may have caught sight of the black and white fellow grazing on the lawns the past few days, but Buck is probably a stranger to the bulk of the student population at present– as is Julie Wolffe, his owner, and Hogwarts’ new Gamekeeper. Little hooves trippety-trot on the cobblestones, followed by Ms Wolffe’s brisk steps to keep up with him, muttering all the while as she goes. “It’s not my fault it started raining, Buck! You know you could just stay out there if you weren’t such a little sook… besides, I’m supposed to be meeting this Syril… Cecily… Sybil… person out here soon…” all this is said under her breath, as she adjusts the hood of her robes, and her gaze darts about for somewhere appropriately undercover– secluded– to wait with Buck until the Hogwarts Nurse arrives.

Though, briefly, a look of annoyance passes over Joseph‘s face – his hair is sticking up all funny, now, it’s going to take at least thirty seconds before it flattents itself back down to normal! – he is quite promptly distracted again, and stops caring fairly immediately. Needless to say, he reciprocates the kiss with equal enthusiasm, one hand running through her hair, while his other hand trails slowly up her side, starting at her hip and moving upwards. It’s quite potentially problematic that at this point, he doesn’t notice or really care about the approach of the new gamekeeper; if, at this point, he is still paying enough attention to the world around him to hear the clip-clop of hooves and footsteps, he probably writes it off as being particularly heavy raindrops. Or something. Anything to stop him actually paying attention to what’s going on around him.

For her own part, Noémie does not even notice the clip-clop of the goat’s hooves and instead focusses on the boy in front of her and the tingles that she’s feeling. Despite their repetitions and variations on this very same scenario often over the last several weeks, she can’t help but feel a tingly euphoric feeling when they indulge again. As if she knows of his annoyance with her mussing of his hair, the girl smooths it down and then stands higher on her tiptoes and hugs him tighter around the neck.

Julie Wolffe ‘s keen roving eyes make quick work of the courtyard, and soon she spots what she believes to be the ideal alcove to hover in with Buck until the nurse arrives. But a step closer and another squint causes the Gamekeeper to freeze, double-take spectacularly, and instinctively grab the goat by the horns. First her eyes widen, then she gives a small shake of her head as though to dismiss it, then another stare- no, that’s most definitely two students, not a creature with four arms wearing school robes- at which she finds her cheeks burning bright red. Drawing a breath and making to turn around and pretend she didn’t see aaaanything, her plans of a silent getaway are foiled when, in protest to being held fast to the spot, Buck lets out a terrific, monster of a bleat, shattering through the gentle patter of rain in the courtyard.

Pulling away from the girl only long enough to adjust his angle, so as not to injure his neck, and swooping in immediately to resume the supposedly private kissing, Joseph hesitates for a moment, his hand rested on Noémie’s ribcage. Dare he? Well, seeing as they’re quite alone, and it is very nearly his birthday, why not? Yes, he certainly does dare to – but only briefly, indeed, for the loud bleating of the goat cannot be ignored, even in this state. Almost jumping out of his skin at the sound, and certainly untangling himself as thoroughly as possible from Noémie, cheeks flushed scarlet, his eyes dart around the courtyard for the source of the sound. Eyes falling on Julie and the goat, he seems incapable of any response other than a mortified, frozen expression. The word here is ‘ohgodohgodohgodi’mintroublenow’.

“Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry I’m late, Miss Wolffe!” Sibyl Wexler bursts out of the castle at an energetic waddle, calling out to Julie with a wave. The nurse scarcely gives a glance upwards at the rain, but just tugs her cloak a little more tightly around her ample form and bulging belly as she bustles down the stairs into the courtyard and towards the new staff member. “Were you waiting long? I did mean to be here sooner, only there was a terrible outbreak of antlers, and – ” Sibyl‘s rapid stream of chatter breaks off abruptly – she too has seen Joseph and Noémie, and she stops short on the second-to-last step. “Oh my.” Sibyl‘s expression is somewhere between shock and amusement as she looks down at her young relative and his friend, tangled in their frantic struggle to pull apart.

Turning quite red as the voices and the bleating of the goat fill the courtyard, Noémie, too struggles to detatch herself from him and tucks her arms quickly behind her back, stepping away from the other Ravenclaw. Oh, dear, staff members. This cannot bode well for the prefect, whose job it is to set a good example, rather than to snog in private areas on the grounds. Or at all for that matter. The girl, for her own part, appears rendered speechless as she just looks from Julie to Sibyl and back again with a very red face.

When Sibyl reaches Julie, the new Gamekeeper is poised with both hands cupped over her face from her nose to her chin, largely covering the open-mouthed expression of shock and amusement that is otherwise evident in her eyes. In a normal situation she’d probably have launched into a dozen reasons why Sibyl shouldn’t be sorry, but being as it is, she simply offers a bit of a choking snort, a sidewards glance, and a slow lowering of hands to reveal her biting her lower lip. But where Julie Wolffe remains frozen and utterly unsure what action to take, Buck has no such trouble! With a much softer, garbled sort of bleat from the back of his throat, and the freedom he attained when Julie‘s hands were flung up to cover her mouth, he ambles forwards to join the pair of students. They’re in the shelter, right? So that’s where he wants to be! And before then can even fully extricate themselves, the billygoat has reared onto his hind legs, planted his forehooves on the boy’s upper arms, and stretched up to try and nibble his earlobe.

Of all people to suddenly walk in and catch an eyeful of Joseph and his girlfriend in the courtyard, why oh why did it have to be Sibyl Wexler and the new gamekeeper? Flushed positively scarlet, the boy lowers his gaze to the ground, clearing his throat and kicking at the ground with one foot. “I, uh — hello, Madame Wexler.” He is utterly mortified, it seems. “I was just, uh, we were, I just gave her a birthday present and, um, her birthday’s today, which is the day before my birthday, which is tomorrow, uh, which I’m sure you knew before, seeing as we’re related and all and, um, yeah, so we were – that is, me and, and Noémie – we were just swapping our gifts…” While Noémie falls into an awkward silence, it falls upon him to ramble incessantly until someone silences him. “Just gifts and, er, you really rather took me, and probably us, by surprise there, so, um, we weren’t really doing anything too untoward, I promise… how much did you two see, anyway?” Sure. That’s reeeally going to get him out of hot water. Especially as there’s now a goat trying to eat him, a goat which he, startled, pushes away from him quite abruptly, almost stumbling over backwards as he tries to escape it.

Sibyl presses her mouth tightly shut as she listens to the two students’ protests, but no matter how hard she tries, she cannot keep her lips from twitching up at the corners. “Happy birthday,” is all that she can say, and the words quiver with affectionate but barely-restrained amusement. And then Buck springs forward, and Sibyl lets out a startled cry. “Oh! Oh, dear, are you all right? Miss Wolffe, can you get him back?” But even amid the nurse’s concern for Joseph, sparks of laughter still dance in her eyes, and there is a giggle just behind her voice.

Buck finds himself pushed against, and totters briefly on his hind legs, forehooves waving fruitlessly in the air. He lets out another bleat, more anxious sounding, before his front hooves return neatly to the ground and his world makes sense once more. But the abrumpt action from the boy has nonetheless triggered a reaction of sorts in the billy, who promptly lowers his head and bunches up in a most telling fashion, muscles coiling and aim being readied…

“Thank you,” Noémie responds quietly, her eyes darting to Joseph after she says this. She can’t help but look in a bit of horror as the goat begins trying to eat his ear. It seems, however, that she is rendered speechless by the scene before her. Two faculty before her, her boyfriend being attacked by a goat, and all Noémie can do is stare mutely as it all unfolds. What a situation to be in for the girl who has a Quidditch match coming up soon for the Quidditch cup, and whose demeanor is usually quite reserved, so as not to cause any undue attention to her, and therefore accrue no point losses or detentions. All is lost now, as she will have to submit to whatever the teachers decide is appropriate for the two of them. Of all the days to get caught!

Of course, the prospect of a student being harmed by an animal is about the last thing to ever cross Julie‘s mind, as it usually functions much the other way around… but most especially when the animal involved is her own! But as the kindly Ms Wexler calls out in concern, the Gamekeeper seems to startle back into the moment and darts forward to grab a hold of the animal before he carries out his threatened charge. One hand gripping hard and fast at the base of his horns, she urges him gently backwards and crouches down beside him once they’re back beside Sibyl. As far as the students go, however… looking back up to them, the grin returns back to her features and a laugh threatens to bubble from her throat. “Yes. Happy Birthday.” She coughs, looks briefly to the nurse for direction, then shrugs with a snort. “I daresay the world would be a happier place if everyone could exchange gifts that way, mm?”

Without any grace or agility, the charging goat just means Joseph falls backwards onto his backside, his arms flying up to try and shield him from the goat. Certainly, Julie intercepts the goat before it gets to him, though the way he is kicking and waving his arms, it is possible that he hasn’t actually noticed this. When he realises that his efforts to scare off the goat are entirely unnecessary, he picks himself up and clears his throat audible, his cheeks flushed quite pink as he mutters, “It was a very good birthday present, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, good!” Sibyl breathes out a heavy sigh of relief as Joseph emerges unharmed from his struggle with the goat, and even glances down at Buck with a vague smile. “Thank you, Miss Wolffe,” she adds, giving her fellow staff member a more secure and more honest smile. Joseph’s remark draws an odd coughing sound from Sibyl, but she chokes it back, and enters upon a mighty struggle to push her expression back towards seriousness. “Joseph, Noémie, dears,” the nurse begins, still desperately trying to keep the amused quiver out of her voice as she looks down at the students, “don’t you really think you should…go somewhere more private? With…fewer goats?” Another choked cough escapes from Sibyl, and one broad hand flies up to her mouth in an increasingly vain effort to suppress – or at least hide – her grin.

Startled, Noémie looks at Joseph with wide eyes. Of all the things to say! And to a staff member, even! As Sibyl makes her statement, the horror on Noémie‘s face doesn’t decrease, and she looks to Joseph, to Julie, and then back to Sibyl as she stammers for a moment. “Well — we — we didn’t plan this at all, we were just going to exchange gifts, otherwise we’re usually in more private places — ER — that is — what I meant to say …” She trails off, her face turning very red as she finishes this haphazard statement, and she can’t help but just look helplessly at the nurse, hoping upon hope that the two of them won’t get detentions or point losses for it.

Where Sibyl has at least some success in suppressing her amusement, Julie Wolffe fails abysmally. First ‘a very good present’, then ‘fewer goats’ then ‘usually more private’ …and the Gamekeeper loses it, her snorted laughter and helpless chuckles bursting out, shoulders shaking in mirth even as she keeps a tight grip about Buck’s horns. “Oh, goodness, oh, dear. Oh dear.” Between her chuckles, Julie manages to get a few words out, and the more she tries to speak the more she regains control of her voice. She lifts her free hand as though to silence the girl, and gulps back another bout of giggles. “-best not tell us what you usually do, Miss. But Sibyl- I mean, Mrs Wexler is right. There’s far more private places to go about sharing…” Snort. “Those sorts.” Twitter. “Of gifts!”

Flushed brilliant pink, Joseph gathers himself together, unable to see the inherent humour in the situation, reaching out to grab at Noémie’s wrist. “Come on,” he offers to her, his voice rather strained. “Can, can we just go… somewhere else? Please?” Glancing sidelong at Sibyl, he adds, “And… you won’t… tell anyone, will you S-Madam Wexler?” He’s mortified enough as it is without using the wrong name.

And Sibyl had been doing so well, too! When Julie starts to lose it, so does she – the nurse’s careful composure erupts into helpless giggles, and she reaches out to brace herself against the new gamekeeper with a hand on Julie’s arm. “Oh – oh my,” Sibyl chokes. “You’re not in trouble, dear,” she manages to say, between fits of laughter. “Really, you’re not. Just – not in the courtyard! Really, there are plenty of spots in the rose garden, and several rooms on the fifth floor that nobody goes to, and – ahem!” Sibyl cuts off again, with a quite different kind of choked sound as she clears her throat loudly. “Er. Right. Yes. Just not in the courtyard where everyone can see.”

“Yes, Madam Wexler, of course,” Noémie answers the woman with a nod, and a diversion of her eyes, though when she diverts them, the only fall on Joseph, her face still very red. Oh, what a birthday this has been. “We’ll… we’ll, er, keep that in mind for next time.” No amount of pleading and trying to tell her that it wasn’t planned, that it had all been spontaneous, is going to quell the embarrassment that fills the prefect right now, though a good amount of relief floods her as Sibyl assures them that they aren’t in trouble.

Of course, Julie is still a little too new to the place to really feel comfortable telling anybody off yet- not to mention that she scarcely knows any students NAMES yet, so wouldn’t know who she was telling off even if she tried! Suffice to say, the students are certainly safe from her at the moment. She grins back up to Sibyl as she steadies herself upon her, and then when they’ve both regained composure she pulls a lead and a collar from inside her robes, clips them neatly onto Buck, and stands back up with the goat firmly in check. Giving a brisk shake of her head to shake some droplets from her hair, she offers the students a curt nod and then turns her full attention back to the nurse. “Well! I’d best get Buck back to the stables, keep him out of the weather… and then, perhaps, you can start by showing me around -inside- the Castle?”

Coughing a few times and tugging at Noémie’s arm, Joseph seems to want nothing more than to get out of there. “It was nice, uh, seeing you, Madame Wexler.” His voice rather higher-pitched than usual, and offered at a rather low volume, he departs just as quickly as he possibly can, his box of sweets in one arm, gesturing for Noémie to follow him hastily with the other arm. As he thinks he’s out of earshot of the faculty members, possibly to himself, possibly to Noémie, he adds, “Okay, step one, find somewhere actually private….”

One more “Ahem!” brings Sibyl nearly back to normal, but there is still a twinkle in her eyes and a grin on her face as she nods. “Yes, Miss Wolffe, that would probably be best. I’ll meet you in the main entryway. And you two should get inside too,” she adds to Joseph and Noémie. “You don’t want to catch cold!”

Noémie pauses, staring a moment as Sibyl says this, and then shakes her head, quickly following Joseph as he makes his way into the school. Perhaps the two of them can find these rooms on the fifth floor and put them to good use. The two of them very much could use a distraction now, after all. As she trots along down the hallway with Joseph, Noémie finds herself twiddling the ring on her thumb and smiling to herself despite what has just happened. Yes, even though she’s embarrassed as can be, it was still a happy birthday.

The door to the Wexler residence opens, and the cheerful voice of Sibyl Wexler echoes down the hallway. “Basil? Love, are you home?” Her step is a bit heavier these days, even when she is not weighed down by the wealth of packages that she carries now. Baskets in bright springy pastel shades of yellow, green, and purple; enormous chocolate eggs wrapped with fluffy ribbons, and other Easter treats fill Sibyl‘s arms, balanced between her hands and the convenient shelf of her ever-increasing stomach. “Basil?”

“In here!” Basil calls from the kitchen, where he looks a bit harried as he leans over the kitchen table, his wand pointed at an egg, presumably hard-boiled, There are three bowls of them on the table: one of brightly colored and decorated eggs, another with rather poorly colored eggs in it, many of them cracked or smashed, and the third, a bowl full of white eggs, yet to be decorated. The man’s hair is mussed and his face is one of pure concentration, as if his life is dependent on making these eggs look right.

“Oh, Basil!” Sibyl cannot help the affectionate laughter that bubbles up, despite her honest sympathy for her husband’s agitation. She leans forward, letting the precarious stack of parcels tip out of her arms onto the counter, then bustles over to stand behind Basil, edging close enough to lean her arm against his, and tip her cheek to rest on his shoulder as she looks down at the disarray of eggs. “I like the green one,” Sibyl offers, pointing at one of the neater ones, then tilting her head up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “How long have you been at this, love?”

“I dunno, what time is it?” He responds in a rather tense-sounding voice as he finishes a pink and white egg that seems to have frills spinning around it delicately. Who knew Basil was so creatively-minded? However, he does look up at the clock and runs his hand over his hair with a sigh. “Three hours,” he answers with a shake of his head. “I’m nearly done, though,” he answers, directing to the middle bowl, in which there are only five eggs left to do. “Wow,” he comments, looking at the parcels that Sibyl has brought in. “Wait, did you bring those all on your own? You didn’t have anyone help you?” His obvious concern — which reared its head in all of her previous pregnancies as well — makes an appearance here as he strides over to look at everything she brought home. “Really, you should have gotten help!”

“Three hours? Oh, Basil, dear, take a rest!” Sibyl cries, her own automatic concern taking over. But when she hears how close he is to being finished, Sibyl sighs and shakes her head, conceding, “Well, that’s good, at least.” She follows after him as he moves to the counter – not quite waddling yet, but definitely not as light on her feet as she usually is. “Don’t worry, love, it wasn’t bad at all. Really, it wasn’t!” Sibyl reaches out to loop her arm reassuringly through her husband’s. “I Apparated in from Diagon Alley – it didn’t take two minutes to walk home. And they weren’t heavy at all. And I got those caramel-filled eggs that you like,” she adds, giving Basil’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Well, you shouldn’t– oh?” Basil is, for once, mulled by the mention of sweets. “Did you get them from– er, the ones that Maura makes?” Basil apparently doesn’t feel like getting worked up about his sister today. “Those are the only ones I like, you know,” He does open up one of the bags to peer in, rather like a child in his sly pursuit for his caramel-filled eggs. He grins a bit at Sibyl, reaching up with his free hand to smooth his head rather than root through the sweets and goodies she has brought home for easter.

“Which is why I got them for you,” Sibyl declares, with a satisfied nod, and another fond squeeze of her husband’s arm. “Not there, love,” she adds, reaching forward to push open another of the bags. “They’re in this bag. And yes, I got them from Cordial Confections. Where else?” She lifts up on tiptoe for just barely long enough to give Basil another kiss on the cheek, and then thumps heavily back down to the ground. “How are the little ones?” Sibyl pokes her broad hand into one of the other bags of sweets, snitching a tiny dark-chocolate egg to pop into her own mouth.

“Brilliant,” he answers, more in response to the comment about the eggs than about their children. He reaches in and slyly pulls one out, shedding it of its wrapper quickly before tossing it to land in the bowl full of ‘dud’ eggs. “They’re outside playing with the neighbor kids. I think they’ve been bored all day. All Alden can talk about is Hogwarts.” Basil reaches his arm around to bring his wife closer. “D’you think he’ll be Gryffindor like Briony was?”

“I won’t bother them, then,” Sibyl decides, but her head turns towards the window, and there is a slightly wistful tinge to her smile. “They’ll be in soon enough.” Sibyl moves into the circle of her husband’s arm, leaning her head comfortably on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m glad he’s getting excited about it,” she continues, her smile warming as she speaks about her son. “I’d love to see another of our children in Gryffindor. He’s so quiet and sweet, but he might have the spark in him yet. Even if he doesn’t, I’m sure he’ll find a way to be happy no matter which House he ends up in.”

Basil does not dare to say it out loud, as, of course, this would be rather unfair to his son, but, still, the man can hope for another Gryffindor in the family. “I wouldn’t say no to a Ravenclaw, of course,” he does comment with a bit of a chuckle, reaching in and pulling out another caramel-filled egg and popping it into his mouth as he tosses the wrapper to the same fate as the previous one. “How’s life at Hogwarts? Is Briony staying out of trouble?” Basil pauses. “Do you need to sit down, dear? Aren’t you tired from your trip?”

“Well…” Sibyl hesitates for a moment, then admits with a sigh, “It would be nice to put my feet up for a bit.” She moves over to the kitchen table and eases herself down into a chair, letting out another audible sigh of relief as she kicks off her shoes and swings her feet up onto the chair opposite. “I know, I always say ‘no feet on the furniture,’ but I can break my own rules once in a while.” There is a mischievous twinkle in Sibyl‘s eyes as she grins over at her husband. Her hand steals behind her to rub at her lower back as she continues, “Things are going very well at school. The Quidditch season is nearly over, thank goodness – I’ve seen enough bruises and broken bones coming through the infirmary to last for several years!”

“None were Briony’s, were they?” Basil asks quickly, his eyes snapping onto Sibyl’s face, while a worried expression spreads over his own. She’s his daughter, after all, despite how much she resembles his own sister. “She’s not going to play next year, if so.” Basil finds himself a bit heated as he says this, and then clears his throat and shakes his head, as if to stop being so stodgy and paranoid. As if out of habit, he reaches out and begins to rub one of Sibyl’s feet gently, still waiting for the answer, despite his previous outburst.

“Oh, no!” Sibyl protests. She reaches swiftly out to touch her husband’s arm in reassurance – but she cannot bend forward quite enough to reach him, and drops back with a heavy sigh, settling for words only. “Briony wasn’t hurt at all, love, don’t worry! And she’s doing marvelously.” Almost despite herself, Sibyl lets out another sigh, deeper and more relaxed, as Basil starts rubbing her feet. “Mmmm…..oh, darling, that feels wonderful. Thank you.”

Basil smiles at Sibyl rather happily as she seems to enjoy this, even still. After all, some things never change! The man just continues his rubbing. “Well, that’s good at least. She hasn’t written to me in a while again. I imagine she’s too busy with that older fellow of hers.” The man does not look pleased at this statement, and even makes no attempts to wipe the look from his face. “What he wants with her concerns me. He’s sixteen, and she’s only twelve. He’s far too old for her. She’s too young to like boys, anyway.” After all, Basil had not even noticed Sibyl from any other girl until his Fifth year.

“It’s nothing serious, Basil.” Sibyl shakes her head fondly at her husband’s protective warnings. “She’s got a bit of a crush, and he – well, if he tries anything improper, I’ll be right there to put a stop to it.” The affectionate smile that Sibyl had given to her husband shifts, and for a moment, her eyes meet Basil’s with equal resolve, and equal parental protectiveness. “Nothing will happen,” Sibyl repeats, her voice and expression softening again, and after a moment, she lets her eyes drift close, and her head tip back, relaxing under the soothing motion of Basil’s hands.

“I’m just glad you’re there to keep an eye on him. I can’t imagine what would happen if that boy were left to his own designs.” Basil‘s voice is a bit gruff as he says this, but he continues rubbing the one foot, while scooting his chair closer to better help with the other. “Should I be getting you to bed already? They must be working you to exhaustion at Hogwarts.” He shakes his head and seems to tut a bit, almost like a mother might do. And perhaps it’s a habit he got from his own mother.

Sibyl nudges Basil’s hand reassuringly with her foot, murmuring again, “I’ll be right there.” She tilts her head up again, opening her eyes to say softly, “I won’t say not to worry, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be a father. But I will be there to take care of her, love.” She falls silent for a moment, letting her husband shift around, and then shakes her head in response to his next question, her smile returning. “Soon, but not now,” Sibyl replies. “I get so little time to spend with you and the little ones that I don’t want to fritter it away by sleeping.”

“Well, there’s always tomorrow, of course,” the man states as he runs one finger rather sneakily up the bottom of her foot. “I’m sure Alice and Alden will be in soon, though. I told them not to be long, since you’d be coming home.” Basil pauses again, looking over the table. “I suppose I should finish the eggs. There are five there… perhaps I should put our names on each of them.” Leaning over to pat Sibyl’s belly, he chuckles. “Too bad there aren’t six, or I’d do one for this one, too.”

“Well, I’ll happily eat two,” Sibyl replies with a comfortable laugh, poking her husband playfully with her toe in response to his tickling. “And we wouldn’t have a name to put on the sixth, anyway. Or we could put the whole list of names that we’ve been thinking of, if we had a very large egg,” she adds, laughing again as she folds her hand over Basil’s to pat her rounded belly. “Well, I trust you to get those last five done. Unless you want my help, of course? It was always fun to color eggs with you and the children…”

“You could help,” Basil answers almost too quickly. “I’ve never been very good at the pink and girly ones,” he answers, picking up the pink egg with frills on it for demonstration. “Not my specialty.” He chuckles a bit and picks up an egg, holding it out so Sibyl. “That is, if you feel up to it,” he adds, still holding the egg out and drawing his wand, setting it onto the table while he waits for her decision.

“Pink and girly it is, then,” Sibyl agrees, with a warm laugh. She swings her feet down from the chair on which they rest, and reaches down to push herself up, letting out a little “Mmph!” of effort as she lifts her belly up. “I’ve had plenty of practice with Color-Changing spells, lately,” she adds, as she pads over to her husband. “They’ve been working on them in some of the Transfiguration classes, and something always goes wrong.” Sibyl shakes her head, looking heavenward with an expression that is part amusement, part sympathy, and part exasperation. “Here, shall I do this one for Alice, then?” she offers, reaching out to pick up the egg.”

“Sure,” he answers, chuckling. “Do all that many of them acutally manage to change themselves colors, then?” He shakes his head, pointing his wand at the egg that he has picked up for his own doing. “I think some of them do it on purpose. I’m certain Eva did when she managed it that time in school. Mum was furious. I’m just glad I wasn’t there for it.” Basil chuckles and shrugs, grinning at Sibyl as he puts a blue swipe, before turning the rest of it green, and beginning to carefully write his own name onto it in the form of ‘Dad’.

Sibyl says, “Oh, there have been one or two every week,” %n replies with a soft laugh. She fishes her wand out from a pocket somewhere deep in the voluminous folds of her robe, chatting comfortably away as she turns the egg this way and that. “Some of them do do it on purpose, even though they’d never admit it. There was one girl who came in a particularly lovely shade of lavender. It matched her hair ribbons perfectly.” A quick flourish of %n’s wand, and then a light tap on the egg – and it too turns lavender. “About that shade, I think.” %n taps it again, and the egg pinkens a little. “Ah, there we go,” %n says. “Alice will love that color.”"

“Oh, there have been one or two every week,” Sibyl replies with a soft laugh. She fishes her wand out from a pocket somewhere deep in the voluminous folds of her robe, chatting comfortably away as she turns the egg this way and that. “Some of them do do it on purpose, even though they’d never admit it. There was one girl who came in a particularly lovely shade of lavender. It matched her hair ribbons perfectly.” A quick flourish of Sibyl‘s wand, and then a light tap on the egg – and it too turns lavender. “About that shade, I think.” Sibyl taps it again, and the egg pinkens a little. “Ah, there we go,” Sibyl says. “Alice will love that color.”

“I’m sure she will,” Basil agrees and laughs a bit. “There, I think they’ll know who this one belongs to, don’t you?” he comments, brandishing the ‘Dad’ egg to her and chuckling as he sets it aside. “Now, for Alden’s.” He pulls out another one, first turning the thing black, then changing his mind, and turning it yellow. A third color change, and it’s green. “Much better,” he comments aloud before putting some black stripes around the center of the egg. He turns it 90 degrees, and then carefully writes ‘Alden’ onto the egg, grinning as he sets the egg aside. “I’ve gotten a bit better at it,” he tells Sibyl with a laugh.

“Is that what you think?” Sibyl asks with a grin, in response to the choice of green for Alden’s egg, giving her husband a gentle nudge. “I thought you were putting him in Ravenclaw.” Sibyl taps her wand on the pinkish-lavender egg again, and a delicate white lacy pattern begins to spread over the smooth surface. “Oh, very nice,” Sibyl agrees, leaning over Basil’s arm to admire the writing. “He’ll like the stripes. Now, what do you think for Alice – purple writing, or dark pink?”

“How about yellow?” Basil suggests hesitantly, shrugging a bit in response to this question. He has set Alden’s egg down on the table, but he picks it up and shows the stripes. “Look, they’re black, not silver. Like I would do that to my own son.” Chortling a bit, he sets the egg back down, and picks up a third, clearly having a bit more practice at it than Sibyl has recently. Coloring this egg red to start, he looks it over, before putting small yellow stripes all around it. Soon, the thing looks rather Gryffindor-esque with its red background and thin, red stripes running around its circumference. Soon, a bit of silver is added to the egg, in a round circle on the front facing Basil, and it becomes clear that he is drawing a snitch — however misguided his drawing may be, as it is silver instead of gold. in the center of it goes the girl’s name, as neatly as he can manage it, and he brandishes the thing with a, “Ta da!” just as Briony herself was prone to as a small child.

“Lovely,” Sibyl declares, with a soft, affectionate laugh. There is real admiration in her voice, though, as she leans over to look at the intricate drawing on the red-and-gold egg. “Oh, that’s very nice! She’s going to love it, dear.” And Sibyl‘s smile softens, and she puts a hand gently on her husband’s arm for a moment – he has given his daughter an egg that she will love, even if he does have misgivings about her Quidditch playing. Then she withdraws her hand and shifts her grasp on her wand, holding it with careful control as she traces ‘Alice’ in curly white cursive letters across the egg in her hand. A tap of her wand turns the letters yellow – then silver – and then finally a deep purple, and Sibyl nods in satisfaction.

“All that’s left is yours, then, Sibyl,” Basil responds, putting the eggs that he has so speedily finished into the bowl of pretty eggs and holding out the last uncolored one to Sibyl. “Afterwards, I’ll go fetch the children. It’s getting dark anyway.” He says this so simply that it is clear that he has had quite a bit of practice now at being sole keeper of the house, though the children are more likely to have benefitted to his attentions than the house has. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you, I know Alice has missed you especially.”

“Oooh!” Sibyl sounds almost like one of the children herself, letting out a giggling squeal at the prospect of an egg of her own to color as she reaches out to take it. But the look she gives her husband has a quieter kind of happiness, and prouder, as she hears his comfort in dealing with domestic matters. “I can’t wait to see the little ones, either,” Sibyl replies. “Little ones,” she repeats, shaking her head at herself with a rueful laugh. “I must stop calling them that. Alden will be at school next year, and I know he hates being thought of as a child. And there will be a real little one soon enough. . .”

Basil does nod at this, clearly having heard his own earful from his son about this very issue. “I don’t think he’ll rest until we begin to call him by ‘sir’,” Basil chuckles as he says this and shakes his head. “I wish you could be around more. I miss you around the house,” he comments, reaching out to stroke her hand gently, some sadness invading his eyes as he looks down at the table and all of his hard work over the afternoon. “Alice will be so lonely with you away at school with Alden and Briony both, as well, this next year.”

“I miss you too, darling,” Sibyl says softly, curling her fingers gently around her husband’s. Her fond amusement at her son’s personality begins to shade into wistfulness, and the smile that she gives Basil is touched with sorrow. “And Alice, too. But I need to stay at Hogwarts. They need me.” Sibyl leans closer, rising up on tiptoes for a moment to give her husband a light kiss on the cheek as gentle consolation. “And I’ll come back as much as I can. Neither of us will have to miss any of our new baby’s growing up,” Sibyl promises, pulling her husband’s hand in to brush lightly across the curve of her belly. “You’ll see, love. We’ll figure it out.”

Nodding slowly, he leans down to kiss Sibyl on the cheek and then looks to the window with a shake of his head. “I had better go get the children,” he comments and rubs his hand over her belly quietly. Leaning down to kiss her cheak again, Basil stands fully and makes his way out the door towards the outside of the house and is gone, quite clearly to do as he has said and wrangle up his children to come indoors.

The hospital wing is a haven of coziness, even though winter chills have begun to fill the snug beds with sniffling students. Fortunately, there seem to be few serious injuries or magically-induced ailments right now. The sharp, bracing scent of Pepper-Up wafts throughout the warm room – not content with simply brewing individual mugs for her coughing young patients, Sibyl Wexler has an entire cauldron of it bubbling over the fireplace. “There you go, dear,” the nurse murmurs to a glum-looking little boy, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder as she hands him his mug. “You’ll be feeling better in no time at all.”

It isn’t long before the Christmas break begins, and Olivia seems almost skittish as she enters the quiet Hospital wing. “Mrs Wexler?” she calls quietly, her hands folded together, almost in an attempt to keep them warm, as the castle is prone to draughts. “Am I early?” she asks, readjusting her scarf carefully and glancing around at all of her schoolmates occupying the beds with various types of colds.

“Hmm?” Sibyl turns to look over her shoulder at the sound of a new voice, and breaks into a warm smile as she catches sight of Olivia. “Oh, Olivia, dear, no, you’re just on time. I’ll be with you in a moment – I’ve just got one more of these Pepper-Ups to do.” Sibyl gives the little boy one last comforting pat on the shoulder, then straightens up, starting to bustle back across the room towards the cauldron. “How are you feeling, dear?” she asks, as she bends over the bubbling pot, the slightest bit of awkwardness in her motion as she leans over her still-small but growing stomach. “You haven’t got this chill that’s going around, have you?”

“I feel fine, it’s just a little chilly today, that’s all,” Olivia answers, a small smile gracing her closed lips. “I hope we’ll have snow soon,” the girl expresses, glancing out the window at the quiet cold. The school has been buzzing about Christmas, as it usually does, with people preparing their things to take them home, and talking about what they were hoping to get for the holiday. She walks over to a nearby empty area, near the doorway to the private ward and leans against a post of an empty bed, waiting her turn to be helped by the nurse.

“Oh, so do I!” Sibyl agrees, with a fervency that surprises even herself, and sends her warm smile bubbling over into a laugh. “Well, winter is more fun when it’s snowing! And a white Christmas would be nice.” She fills the last of the mugs with steaming Pepper-Up and crosses back to the row of beds to hand the mug to a tiny coughing first-year girl. The nurse smoothes the girl’s hair back, tucks her covers in a little more snugly, and straightens up again to turn back towards Olivia. “There – now, let’s go into my office and we can get you taken care of!” Sibyl declares with a satisfied nod, and starts to lead the way down the short corridor towards her office.

Olivia Baxtor follows the nurse into her office, walking as quietly as she can, though her shoes still ‘click clack’ a bit. “I’m rather excited for Christmas this year,” she admits, her eyes shining. “Evan’s told me that they have a tree and everything.” The girl giggles a bit and covers her mouth as she does so, taking a seat one she is in the office. “Will this hurt terribly much, do you think?” she asks, almost blurting the question, which has apparently been weighing on the fourth-year’s mind for a good bit.

Sibyl‘s warm smile twists with regret. “It probably will a bit, dear. I’m sorry,” she says, gently and apologetically. “But not for long, and I can give you some potions to help in the meantime.” She reaches out to place her hand on the girl’s shoulder as she passes, giving a kind touch along with her reassuring words. “And then you’ll feel fine, and you’ll have an absolutely lovely Christmas.” Sibyl is smiling again by the time she finishes, leaning against her desk facing Olivia. She pauses to fish her wand out of the voluminous folds of her robes, and holds it poised in her hand as she asks, “Are you ready, dear?”

However much hesitance for pain is in Olivia‘s eyes, this is masked by the fervor with which she nods affirmative. “What should I do? Do I just sit here and hold my mouth open, or…?” Obviously the girl had not had much occasion to do appropriate research on the subject of teeth straightening, and is perhaps a bit more clueless than the average student might be about the change she’s about to have.

“That’s all, dear,” Sibyl agrees. She reaches out to take Olivia’s chin gently between the fingers of her free hand, and tilts the girl’s face up towards her. “I’m the one doing all the work,” she adds, with a slightly impish gleam in her eyes. “So you don’t have to worry at all.” Sibyl lifts her wand, and declares, “Dentario!” A small white spark zips out of the end of the wand, and circles into Olivia’s opened mouth, wrapping the girl’s teeth in gentle white light.

“Alright,” Olivia answers and nods, then her chin is tilted and she opens her mouth dutifully, letting the nurse be the only one to see the crooked teeth, ever again. The girl’s eyes widen as the white spark zips out, but she does not flinch, she merely leans back and watches as the nurse deftly begins to rearrange her teeth. The pain that quickly begins to surge through her gums is not one which she has been prepared for, but rather than flinch, she simply closes her eyes again, just waiting for it all to be over.

The girl may try to hide her pain, but Sibyl is attuned enough to reading children’s expressions and moods that her own face crinkles in gentle sympathy, and she murmurs, “It’s all right, dear. It won’t be that much longer. . .” A little more force comes back into Sibyl‘s voice as she continues, “Dentario regularus!” Little by little, the bright sparks of magic do their work, tugging Olivia’s crooked teeth into position. The nurse’s voice softens again as she moves out of the words of the spell and into the words of consolation. “Don’t worry – this is going to hurt a little more, but it won’t be for long.”

Breathing very carfully as Sibyl finishes the spell, Olivia relaxes, as the ‘assault’ on her gums has ended, and now the pain of the rearrangement is beginning to settle. The girl wipes at her eyes, hiding away the remnants of tears that came too easily with the pain, and sits up a little. “Iss vat aww? Iss done?” Olivia asks, speaking with as little movement as possible. “Cood I geh aaht pohion soon?” She lets her mouth hang a bit, hoping that the throbbing in her teeth would very soon go down and that she could enjoy the feeling of the now-straight teeth.

“Of course, dear,” Sibyl replies at once. She quickly releases Olivia’s chin, moving her hand carefully away from the girl’s sore mouth, and instead smoothes back Olivia’s hair with a gentle touch before she stands up straight to bustle swiftly over to the small potions cabinet in the corner. “Now, take one of these vials now, and another in five hours,” Sibyl instructs, authority ringing in her voice despite her gentle tone. “And if it’s still hurting after that, or if the potion doesn’t make it stop, come back to me.” She returns to Olivia, holding out the two vials towards the girl, and pauses for a moment, regarding her with warm, maternal eyes. “You look lovely, dear. And you’ll feel better very soon.”

Nodding, Olivia takes the vials from Sibyl, and does as she’s told, downing one quickly and closing her eyes for a moment. No, it didn’t taste all that nice, but if Sibyl said it would make her feel better, Olivia was certain that it would do so. “Phank you,” Olivia says as best she can, and her lips turn up a bit, though not much. The fourth year stands carefully, steadying herself and clutching the extra vial carefully. “Soood I come back thoon?” she asks, though she means to ask ‘Should I come back before Christmas Holiday?’

“Yes,” Sibyl decides, and her own smile warms with proud satisfaction as she surveys the work that her potions and spells have done. “If the potions work and everything feels all right, come back in three days so that I can check up on you before you leave. Or, if there’s anything you’d like to talk about,” she adds. The nurse gives Olivia one more pat on the shoulder, and finishes, “You should be feeling fine in no time, though. And you’ll have a lovely holiday!”

“Phank you,” the girl reiterates again, the sides of her mouth curling up a bit. She looks to already be in a bit less pain as she turns and walks carefully out of the office, clutching the vial in one hand, and running her fingers over the bottom of her sweater carefully. Yes, Olivia would have a lovely holiday, and she would rest easier, perhaps, with the straightened teeth. Soon the girl is gone again, on her way up to her dormitory, perhaps to sleep.

A little island of tranquility in the busy rush of students between classes, the Hospital Wing is quiet, and nearly empty, much to Sibyl Wexler‘s relief, as she makes her rounds. Bent over a small, embarrassed-looking girl, the nurse is murmuring, “Now, you just get some rest, dear. Jelly-Legs is a tiring curse, but you’ll feel better soon.” She pats the little girl comfortingly on the shoulder, and moves on to the next bed. “And how are you feeling, dear? Oh, you’re looking much less orange – let’s see your eyes? Oh, yes, much better…”

“Mrs Wexler?” Olivia says quietly, coming only just into the doorway of the Hospital Wing. The girl has only been here a handful of times in her now three full years at the school, and much like one would expect in the library, she keeps her voice lowered and almost reverent. She doesn’t appear to be quite as flustered as she had been in her last visit, though she is not noticably less perplexed than that said visit.

“Hmmm?” Sibyl straightens up at the sound of her name, turning to look over her shoulder at the door. “Oh, Olivia, dear!” she exclaims, with a warm, welcoming smile. “Come in – you can take a seat in my office, and I’ll be with you in a moment.” The nurse turns back to to the orange boy to give him one last pat to his shoulder. “You just keep drinking that potion, and you’ll be your regular color again in no time.” Then she gives her robes a quick tug to settle them – Sibyl‘s still looks almost exactly as she always does, but her robes don’t quite fall the same way around her stomach as they did a few months ago – and heads off towards her office to meet Olivia.

Olivia Baxtor can’t help but look at those in the hospital wing, though she does so out of the corner of her eye. It’s clear that the girl doesn’t appear to be bothered that she’s missing the ‘excitement’ that some seem so often to have by being there for one reason or another. “You’re not busy, are you?” she asks quietly, making her way through the wing and into the doorway of the office as quietly as she can manage, and despite her rather clunky black shoes, she seems to manage this rather well.

Oh, not at all, dear,” Sibyl protests, beckoning the girl into her office with a broad gesture of her potion-stained hand. “Here, come in. Would you like some tea?” Sibyl is already reaching for the wand in one of the voluminous pockets of her robes, and points at the teapot that stands on the sideboard. It dutifully chugs and bubbles, and a thin plume of steam starts to rise from it. “Now, has your mother mentioned that I’ve written to her? Oh, please sit down, dear,” she adds, motioning to the comfortable chair opposite the nurse’s desk, as she bustles around gathering teacups and saucers and a few bottles of sparkling blue potion.

“Yes, she did,” Olivia answers, a bit of irration showing on her usually composed face as she holds up a rather thick bundle of letters. “I don’t think she interpreted the gesture as it was meant.” The girl looks down at the stack in her lap, obviously a bit downtrod over the content of the letters, or at least at the meaning from them. “Did she owl you back, then?” the girl asks cautiously, unsure whether the assault only came to her, or to Sibyl as well.

“Oh, dear,” Sibyl sighs, her expression softening sympathetically. “Was she cross with you for asking? She was rather cross with me, too, at first, but I didn’t think she would owl you.” Sibyl leans over, checking the stack of parchment with a worried frown. “No Howlers, at least,” she murmurs. “I am sorry, dear!” She pats Olivia gently on the shoulder, then moves back towards the sideboard, adding over her shoulder, “She is coming around, though. Did she tell you? I think she’s almost agreed to it.” Sibyl pours two cups of tea, and passes one over to Olivia with another smile. “There you go.”

“She is,” Olivia responds, looking quite shocked and not a bit displeased. “She said something to the effect that I was a selfish little girl for asking for such a thing and that I ought to just learn how to make them look prettier on my own.” Olivia shakes her head a bit and shoves the stack of parchment rather unceremoniously into the top of her bag, rather than setting it neatly in, as the rest of her things are usually done. “Thank you,” she states as the tea is handed to her and sips it slowly before responding. “Do you really think she’s going to give her consent?”

The girl’s version of her mother’s words draws a sharp frown from Sibyl – but the nurse’s disapproval is all directed towards the absent mother, not Olivia. “Oh, dear. I am sorry,” she murmurs again. A small bit of the sparkling blue potion drops into Sibyl‘s teacup, followed by two lumps of sugar, and she turns to face her young patient again as she continues,”But yes, I think she’s coming around. I’m finally managing to impress the health issues on her, and I believe she’s beginning to understand how important it is.”

“Oh, well, at least she’ll listen to you,” Olivia comments, almost seeming nonchalant as she says this. It is clear the girl is rather used to this behavior, though one could assume that she isn’t fond of it. “If she says it’s alright, when do you think we could do it?” Olivia pauses here in thought. “I’d really like to have them nice before the ball after Christmas.” Another pause. “Or maybe… maybe before I go to see the Minister for Magic over Christmas.” Could it be that Olivia is quivering with fear, or is it excitement?

“You’re going to meet the Minister?” Sibyl‘s eyebrows lift for a moment, and then it clicks. “Oh, are you friends with Evan? How lovely, dear.” Sibyl settles herself down in the large, comfortable chair opposite Olivia, and takes a sip of her tea. “I’m sure we can manage to get it done by Christmas. I think your mother is very close to giving her consent.” She leans forward to pat Olivia’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, dear.” A small, conspiratorial, almost mischievous gleam lights her turquoise eyes. “We’ll get her to come around.”

“He’s my best friend,” Olivia answers quickly, her eyes shining. Friendship has done good things for the girl. “It would be so exciting to be able to see the Minister for Magic with straight teeth.” The girl’s cheeks pink a bit as she says this and she sips her tea again. “I hope you can convince my mum. She wasn’t convinced by me.” Olivia gives her bag a bit of a kick as she says this, and without saying so makes it clear that there are harsher words in the letters than she has let on.

Sibyl‘s hand remains on Olivia’s to give the girl a comforting squeeze. “I know, dear. I’m doing my best. And I’m sure that your mother will see reason.” Something tugs at the nurse’s memory, then – she glances up with a suddenly thoughtful look in her eyes. “Olivia…does your mother know you’re going to meet the Minister? Would she think that having your teeth fixed would make a good impression on the Minister?”

“I think she does. I asked her if I might go to Evan’s house over the holiday because he asked me.” Olivia, of course, did not think to mention precisely who his mother was. After all, she didn’t need Gertrude and Helen joining in and spoiling her holiday. “She…” Then the implication dawns on Olivia. “She would, yes,” the girl admits, realization apparent in her blue eyes. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to mention that before.” The girl shakes her head, biting her lip. “Perhaps it isn’t too late to mention.”

“You know, I think that that might be exactly the kind of thing that would get your mother to change her mind.” The gleam is back in Sibyl‘s eyes, and there is a hint of triumph as well – even though the wheels are still turning to formulate her plan, the nurse seems to think that she’s already won. “I’ve never met her, of course, but from the way she writes, and the things she says, I think she might be the sort of person who would worry about making a good impression on the Minister. I think I’ll just…mention that, in my next letter.”

“You would be right,” Olivia comments, leaning back in her chair and sighing as she takes another sip of tea. Yes, Sibyl was spot on. “I suppose it might make me as pretty as Gertrude and Helen then, as well, and she needn’t worry about who was prettiest then.” The girl shifts her eyes around the office, which really had a comforting feel to the girl. “Should I owl her back and tell her that as well?”

“Oh, Olivia!” The worried, indignant exclamation is out before Sibyl can stop herself, and she leans swiftly forward to wrap her arms around the little girl in a protective hug. “Does she really say that? Olivia, dear, you’re perfectly pretty! I don’t think you need to say anything about that at all. We’ll tell her about the Minister, and that’s all.”

Olivia can’t do much but shrug about this, for though it bothers her, it’s all she’s known for fourteen and a half years. “She’s always said things like that. Gertrude and Helen don’t like it either, though they never say anything to her about it.” The girl shrugs again and finishes her tea. “Dad tells me that he thinks I’m pretty enough when he’s home, but he’s so busy at work anymore.” The girl shakes her head a bit and looks up at Sibyl, studying the woman’s face while her own seems to remain completely bland for the time being.

“Well…” For a moment, Sibyl hovers with uncharacteristic hesitance. Disapproval of what she is hearing purses her lips, and her sympathy for Olivia is plain in her eyes – but she is also plainly reluctant to criticize the girl’s parents, because all she says is, “Well, your father is right to say so. You are pretty, Olivia.” She reaches up to smooth back the girl’s hair, her broad hand gentle and light. “And I’m going to help make you happier and healthier, too. You’ll see.”

Nodding, Olivia lets out a bit of a smile as she looks up at Sibyl. She sets her teacup and saucer down on the desk and takes a haphazard glance at the clock, before looking to it again more steadily. “Oh, no, I’d better get to Ancient Runes,” she states, sounding almost disappointed that she has to leave the office, where she finds so much comfort. “I have to ask about some things on my homework, or else I’ll never understand it.” Yes, it sounds as if this is a ritual for the girl. “When should I come back to see you?”

“Whenever you like, dear,” Sibyl replies, giving Olivia one last comforting pat on the shoulder and a warm smile as she meets the girl’s disappointed gaze. “And I’ll let you know when your mother writes back to me. Good luck with Runes, dear. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.” And with that, Sibyl bustles back off into the infirmary.

“Alright,” Olivia answers and smiles to Sibyl, before standing and making her way out of the office, bag in hand, doing her best not to gawk at those in the infirmary for whatever reasons. Soon she is on her way down the hall, destined for Ancient Runes class.

Eva Fallon seems to be looking a bit rounder in the waist lately. Again. Yes, indeed, Mrs Fallon is once again pregnant. While she looks a bit tired, and ever so slightly rumpled, the woman does not appear to mind this state of being. After all, she has been as such three times already! It is a quiet day in Cordial Confections for her, thankfully. Little Arnold is sleeping in his crib, a permanent fixture behind the counter now, and Josie, Essie and Charlotte are babbling to one another in various semblances of English while playing with little dolls. Aside from Maura, who is in the back room, presumably concocting some new type of sweets. Yes, it is a quiet day in the shop.

It’s a little difficult to tell that Sibyl Wexler shares her sister-in-law’s condition – she is a bit naturally plumper anyway, and her voluminous robes hide the slight rounding of her own stomach, except when she turns at certain angles. And her expression is brighter than it has been in weeks – the color is back in her ruddy face, and she glances up at her husband with a mischievously girlish grin as they walk through the door of the shop, arm in arm. “I feel as though we’re skiving off of class,” Sibyl laughs to Basil. “And the teacher will come and find us at any second. Oh, hello, Eva, dear,” she interrupts herself, lifting her voice to call across the shop to greet her sister-in-law.

“You rather are, Sibyl,” Basil responds, chuckling a bit as he accompanies her into the shop. He says nothing to his sister, but pays full attention to his wife. “Only, this time around, the teacher is you. So unless you intend to get yourself into trouble…” It seems as if Mister Wexler is a bit reminiscent of his school days the way he’s talking. Not that Basil ever snuck out of class or the commons. Not to be with Sibyl. Oh, no, never. “What did you want to get in here, dear?” Perhaps he is rushing a bit to get out of his sister’s shop, but Basil can’t help himself. He spends too much time here as it is.

Telyn was never one to deny herself of anything, and since becoming her, Morgawse is only just getting used to doing just that. The blond, decked out in obnoxious tight pink and red robes for the Valentine’s Day season, does her best to ignore the little voices of logic in her head as she steps into Cordial Confections. “Nice sort of rain today, isn’t it?” She comments politely to herself or anyone at all, throwing out a bright smile that challenges the drizzly weather with all ’round. She shakes off her hood of her cloak, patting down her hair. Telyn, or Morgawse rather, has never been pregnant, a fact that is quite easily assumed by the look of her. In all likeliness, to her chagrin, she never will be pregnant either. Her expression on brightens further at the sudden appearance of all of these sweets to her senses.

“Hullo, Sibyl, Basil,” Eva greets her relatives cheerfully offering a wave from behind the counter, then stooping to remove a candywrapper from Josie’s mouth. “The girls are playing nicely back here if you’re up for a visit. What brings you here today? Haven’t you got duties to attend to, madam Nurse?” Eva‘s voice is playful as she teases her sister-in-law a bit. “Or are you hear in search of a craving? I fear for Josie and Essie for how much candy I consumed with them. But, oh, those cravings.” She chuckles. “Maura’s just finished a brand new batch of Chocobats, if you like.” She pauses, glancing at the woman decked rather obnoxiously in red and pink. “Hello there,” she calls cheerfully. “Aren’t we festive for Valentine’s day?” She laughs a bit. “I suppose that is a bit early. Perhaps it’s an early Halloween costume, hmm?” It seems Eva‘s in an exceptionally good mood today.

Sibyl gives her husband an affectionate nudge in the ribs with her elbow. “I have today off with full permission of the headmistress, thankyouverymuch!” she declares to Basil and Eva alike, in a tone of mock dignity that is almost entirely offset by the laugh that finishes off the statement. “And… yes, actually.” A slightly sheepish blush reddens Sibyl‘s face along with the admission. “I’ve been dying for some of those licorice wands. Ordinarily I can’t stand them, but now, well…” She finishes with a shrug and another grin, and she leans over to rest her elbows on the counter to speak comfortably with her sister-in-law.

A hand is brought to her chest as Morgawse lets out a smooth giggle which leaves her with an intoxicating pearly-white grin across her lips. “Thank goodness someone pointed it out – I’d thought everyone had gone blind or something.” Pursing her lips in her smile as if she were preparing to whistle, the new customer lets out the remained of her giggles. “I find Autumn horrid, so this year I’ve taken it upon myself to boycott.” She waves her hand, “Halloween and the lot. But I wouldn’t dare deprive myself of sweets.” Saying nothing of the others’ current conversation yet, her eyes widen as she flash a glance around the store once more. She also seems to be in a good mood, but then, she always seems to be in a good mood.

Basil says, “I still don’t understand how you could crave those of all things.” Basil visibly shudders as he thinks of the taste of the licorice wands. Too many as a child had done that to him. The man leans up against the wall in a spot where there’s surprisingly no bins or decorations. He merely looks on as his wife and sister interact. Afterall, he still hasn’t forgiven Eva for… well, a lot of things. The man can’t help but admire her children, all of whom seem surprisingly well-behaved, given how their mother was as a child. Perhaps she’s grown up a bit. But no, Basil couldn’t go that far. Not yet. “Just get what you need, Sibyl. I can send more to you later if you run out.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the three todlers and the infant.”

“I still don’t understand how you could crave those of all things.” Basil visibly shudders as he thinks of the taste of the licorice wands. Too many as a child had done that to him. The man leans up against the wall in a spot where there’s surprisingly no bins or decorations. He merely looks on as his wife and sister interact. Afterall, he still hasn’t forgiven Eva for… well, a lot of things. The man can’t help but admire her children, all of whom seem surprisingly well-behaved, given how their mother was as a child. Perhaps she’s grown up a bit. But no, Basil couldn’t go that far. Not yet. “Just get what you need, Sibyl. I can send more to you later if you run out.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the three todlers and the infant.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place then. Have a look around. We’ve introduced many new sweets recently, for all palates.” Eva nods and smiles, glancing around the sparkling clean shop with a pleased expression. It is definitely more organized during school time than it ever is on holidays. “We’ve plenty of Licorice wands as well. For some reason, the kids didn’t like them as much this year.” Eva shrugs complacently and leans against the counter as well, smiling at Sibyl and giving the occasional glance to Basil, though she does not pester him as she usually might.

“Oh, goodness, I do understand,” Sibyl replies, tossing a grin over her shoulder to Morgawse. “Nothing’s wrong with skipping a season that you don’t like! And thank you, Basil love. I have a feeling that I may be asking for more sweets than any of the children!” Turning back to Eva, she continues, “Oh, yes, definitely licorice wands. And maybe some Ice Mice, too? And do you have any of the licorice-flavored sherbet balls?” Her smile brightens with girlish enthusiasm as she leans over the candy counter, peering eagerly at the assortment of sweets beyond it.

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre smiles, nodding to the woman as she introduces a bit of the merchandise and to Sibyl as well. “I always liked licori-” She ends her sentence short, tilting her head after she finally spotted the well behaved little tikes. Looking back to their mother, the young woman’s strong bright expression melts away, “Your babies are so well behaved!” She groans fondly, explaing further in a hushed voice, “I can’t wait to have children, myself…” Her smiles returns soon enough after she recovers from the cute children.

Shuddering visibly at how much licorice Sibyl is asking for Basil moves away to putter around the shop. Perhaps he would get something for Alice and Alden while he was here. After all, he had been so very busy at work lately, and the’d had to spend more and more time with Eva, or Henrietta, or even, on occasion, Kalika. The man was clearly feeling guilty. “Say, Sibyl. What’m I going to do once all of you are at Hogwarts, and I’m stuck home with the baby?” he asks casually, examining the bin of coloricious with a rather suspicious face.

“If you like, I can suggest for Maura to whip up some licorice truffles. She’s been working on truffles all day. I almost feel bad that I’m such a dunce at candy, but we’d rather not have to replace the back room all over again.” Eva snickers again and reaches down to hoist up Charlotte. “They’re doing alright today. The girls are just having fun with their dollies.” Now that their sister has been lifted, Josie and Essie both stand and peek around the edge of the counter to see who it is that their mother is talking to. Two little mouths seem to drop open at the bright colors and they toddle over to examine the robes. “Girls, you be have yourselves…” Eva states, watching them carefully, lest they bother anyone or anything.

“Oh, would you?” At Eva’s suggestion, Sibyl instantly brightens even more. “That would be simply wonderful, dear, thank you!” She reaches down to give an affectionate touch to the shoulders of Josie and Essie as each little girl toddles by, her grin softening as she looks down at her nieces. “We’ll figure out something, Basil, don’t worry,” she adds over her shoulder to her husband. Despite the bright confidence of the smile that accompanies her assertion, there is a hint of uneasiness in Sibyl‘s turquoise eyes as she glances around at the shop full of children. That’s all very well for a candy shop, but not for an infirmary…

Morgawse bends down to be more at the girls’ level, placing her hands on her knees, “Well Hell-ooo there! I’m Telyn, what might your names be?” She asks cheerfully, giggling as the two seem awe-struck by her ridiculous attire – not seeming offended in the least. She holds out a bit of the heart-embroidered fabric from her longer sleeves for them to inspect if they so wish.

Estelle, the more shy of the twins runs back from Morgawse, hiding herself with a bit of Eva‘s skirt, though she is still watching with interest. “My name is Josie. I’m thwee,” the little girl announces, holding up her hand for no apparent reason. She apparently has not quite gottne the hang of her Rs. “This one is Estelle; we call her Essie,” Eva adds, pointing to the one behind her skirt. “And this is Charlotte.” Charlotte seems to be staring with intense interest at the bright colors as well, though she says nothing. (A change, for once!) “I’ll make a note to Maura about it. I know we’ve still got plenty of licorice extract since the wands didn’t sell.” The former Wexler chuckles and looks from Basil to Sibyl. “He knows the kids are always welcome here, doesn’t he?”

“Are they really?” Sibyl asks, her attention instantly snapping away from the candy and back to her sister-in-law. “I mean, that’s very kind of you, Eva dear, and we do appreciate it.” Is there just a bit of emphasis on that last statement, as Sibyl looks pointedly at her husband, speaking quickly enough that he might not be able to get his own response out before hers? “But we wouldn’t dream of imposing. Another new baby to take care of, on top of your own? We’ll be all right for the summer, at least, and we’ve got plenty of time to think about it all.”

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre beams, “Well it is very nice to make your acquaintance Josie.” She turns to give a little nod to each of the girls in turn, “Estelle. Don’t be shy – I’m definitely no one to be afraid of.” “And hiiiii there, Charlotte.” “Such pretty names for such pretty girls.” Morgawse compliments, brushing a hand over her yellow hair, smoothing it down just in case it’s moved out of place. She tries to push a conversation with the only little girl who seems the most interested, however, “You’re three now. Hmmm.” She taps her chin cutely before she raises up her eyebrows and nods, “That’s pretty old.”

“No, Sibyl,” Basil states from his spot across the room, where he is gathering a conglomeration of sweets for the younger of his three children. “We’ll figure something out,” he says, his voice rather quiet as he seems to be thinking very seriously about what he’s going to get for Alice and Alden. Yes, toothflossing stringmints are appropriate. Into the little baggies they go. Basil is being rather antisocial at the moment, seemingly too consumed with looking over the various candy bins to be bothered with socializing.

“It isn’t an imposition, really it isn’t. I really do enjoy having the kids around.” Eva rolls her eyes as her brother continues to be rather caustic towards her. “How on earth did you fall in love with that stick-in-the-mud?” she asks Sibyl, then chuckles a bit. Charlotte just continues to stare wide-eyed at Morgawse, though Essie does come out from behind Eva‘s skirt a bit, watching more closely as the woman interacts with her sister. “I am old,” Josie states in all seriousness and nods to the woman. “That’s my mommy. She owns this shop with all the candies.” Indeed, Josie seems very proud of this fact. Eva can’t help but smile as her daughters are complimented. After all, she thought them beautiful, too. “Do you want a boy or a girl, Sibyl?” Eva asks with a smile on her face. She’s only just had her first boy, and is still finding out what having a boy child is like.

Even though her polite response had the same effect as her husband’s brusquer one, Sibyl shoots Basil a warning glance across the room, and a frown pinches the corners of her mouth for a moment, before she turns back to Eva with a softer expression and apologetic eyes. “We’ll have to talk about it,” Sibyl explains – and then her discontent flashes again, in response to Eva’s criticism of Basil, and she murmurs a reproachful, “Eva… ” She lets it go, though, and allows her sister-in-law to direct the conversation towards a less contentious topic. “Oh, I’ll be happy with either, really. Another boy might be nice, so we could have two of each, but as long as it’s healthy, I’ll be happy.” Her smile, never far from the surface, especially when she is talking about the coming baby, re-emerges, broad and warm.

“Really?!” Morgawse hisses in wide-eyed amazement, grinning. “I just have a little puffskein stand down the way… but I don’t have a whole big shop.” She nods, glancing around, “Does she ever let you eat some, sometimes?” Morgawse asks the question while glancing back over towards the eldest daughters, blowing up her cheeks to make herself look something like a chipmunk to poor Essie before glancing back to Josie with a smile.

“I’m sure you’ll have the most beautiful baby in the world, Sibyl,” Eva comments generously hugging a still gawking Charlotte. The girl is truly fascinated by the woman. “Well, next to all the other Wexler babies of course. I’d say it’s a, what,” She stops and counts in her head, four, seven, twelve, twenty-two… “Twelve or so.” Eva winks at Sibyl to show that she’s joking and pauses a moment. “Just… I’ve just had an inspiration. I’ll be right back.” She hoists Charlotte onto her hip and steps into the other room for a moment, which is not in fact very far from the front room. Returning she holds a closed box and sets it down. “You know, I had forgotten that Maura had whipped these up before. They’re licorice mint truffles. Not quite the same, but I’ve heard some people use mint to soothe as well. They’re only about a month or so old if you’d like them.” Eva opens the box, setting Charlotte down on her feet so that she might go back to her toys, or watch Morgawse, whichever suited her fancy.

Eva‘s eyes glance every now and again to her children, who are now both holding onto the sleeve of Morgawse’s robes, examining the fabric with interest. “Sometimes we get candies, but not too much, odderwise we get sick,” Josie answers Morgawse’s question with a beaming smile, displaying her tiny array of teeth.

“I’m sorry, Sibyl,” Basil comments quietly as he reapproaches the counter, and sets his two moderately sized bags down. He leans to give Sibyl a kiss on the cheek then looks at Eva pointedly. “We’ll take these, and whatever Sibyl’s having as well,” he tells his sister, almost as if she is a distant acquaintance rather than his youngest sibling. He carefully glances around the shop to make sure he’s left nothing out of order, and looks down at the small, neatly organized bags. Perhaps he’d spent too much time organizing them exactly to match. Then again, when giving treats, it was easier to make them perfectly identical than to have arguments, so he was sure his efforts would be worth it.

Sibyl lets out a soft, warm chuckle at Eva’s assertion about the Wexler babies. “Every one is the most beautiful,” she declares, and reaches out a conciliatory hand towards her husband, slipping it comfortably through his arm. “Those look perfect,” she murmurs reassuringly, following Basil’s nervous gaze down to the neat row of bags. “And oh, yes, some of those truffles with the mint too, please!” Sibyl adds to Eva, brightening even more. “Those do sound lovely, thank you! Yes, some of the truffles, and the licorice wands, and – oh, a quarter pound of the sherbet balls, too.”

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre grins, her voice gradually getting faster and faster and softer and softer, “Well you’re very lucky either way. When I was younger I didn’t get to have any sweets whatsoever… Of course now I compensate today by eating everything I seeeeeeee… which really isn’t very healthy and then I have to have everything retailored and all that bit.” She blinks, blushing at the rant she accidentally just went on, “Do you -like- pink very much, girls?” She asks, looking between the two that have hold of her robes.

“And the ice mice, right?” Eva confirms as she walks out around Morgawse and the children to gather the things that Sibyl has requested, a rather big bag in her hands. She plops a healthy handful of Licorice Wands and sherbet balls into it, including some ice mice in the bunch then returning to her counter. “You can have the whole box of truffles; I’m certain we wouldn’t actually sell any of them.” Eva chuckles and looks over to her toddlers. “No, no, girls, let go of her sleeve. Be good girls now. Do good girls do things like that?” Essie shakes her head slowly at Eva, not withdrawing her hands, though Josie does as she’s told. Eva turns and states the price to Basil, though the price is not quite so much as it ought to be, they are family after all.

“Yes, well, I can’t imagine that anyone else would want them, either!” Sibyl rolls her eyes with a rueful laugh, shaking her head at her own eccentric tastes. “But you understand how it is.” As stealthily as a child sneaking a taste of sweets before dinner, Sibyl lifts the lid of the truffle box with a single finger, slipping her hand inside to pull out one of the candies and pop it into her mouth. “Mmmm…” she murmurs. “Just the thing, Eva. Thank you!”

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre pouts as their mother tells them to let go, and she certainly isn’t going to contradict the woman. “Here..” She smiles, glancing down to look through one of the folds of her robes, “I seem to have a few swatches left! How convenient!” She holds out three large squares of pink and red cloth, “I’ll give them to you as long as you promise to be good girls and share. And as long as your mother says it’s alright. You could perhaps make a little head-covering for your doll or something?” She smiles, her blue eyes flicking over to Eva to see her reaction.

“It’s no problem,” Eva tells Sibyl, patting her hand. Thankfully, Eva‘s illness and her cravings have been delightfully absent this time around, and she’s got no need for anything special. Just her normal barrage of sweets. “I think if they’re very good, something like that could be arranged,” Eva tells Morgawse, smiling at her and then at her children, all of whom seems to be giggling rather overly much. One can be relatively sure that they didn’t take much of the discussion in, but they are at the very least quite excited to have such a treasure. Charlotte runs quickly over to her dolls and starts trying to wrap the little dolly in the fabric every which way. Josie and Essie seem more content for the time being to simply admire and feel the fabric. “Is there anything I can get you?” This is directed towards Morgawse as Basil has commanded Sibyl’s attention now.

“You’re still feeling alright, aren’t you, Sibyl?” Basil asks quietly, looking to his wife as he takes the correct amount of money from his pockets and plunks it on the counter for Eva. “And are you sure you can’t stay home for now?” He pauses, running his hand over the top of her hair. “I do miss having you at home.” The man turns his head to the side as he looks down at her and sighs a bit, still obviously very in love with his wife still, even after all the years they’ve been married.

Morgawse grins, moving to finally stand back up. She smoothes her palms around her waist where her corset is, gulping a little but still smiling, “Ooooh… I think I’d like a few licorice wands, if you have any more… all that talk of them gave me be a hankering for some.” She pats down her hair idly, “I love your girls. I’m jealous.” She adds, not sure if she said that already.

“I’m sure you’ll have some when the time is right,” Eva offers gently, smiling down at her girls who have now wandered back to their dolls and are covering them with the swatches, almost as if they were blankets. Yes, anything is a toy to a three-year-old. “At any rate, we’ve plenty of licorice wands. I can get you a mess of them; anything else you’d like?” Eva smiles generously at the woman and steps around the counter with a bag to gather the requested sweets, staying out there, just in case Morgawse has more requests.

Morgawse purses her lips, “I’m thinking perhaps some chocolate for later as well…?” She glances around, “Gosh, it feels like I haven’t bought sweets in so long… I’m overwhelmed.” In reality of course, her dear sister bought sweets regularly… just not here. She’d probably watch more what Eva was doing if money was more of an issue for her, but as it stands, Telyn Novak is in no way financially bound.

“We’ve just reintroduced the Chocobats, if you’d like. You’ve got to be careful with them, though; if they sit for too long, they’re liable to fly away. Though that does take at least a month to happen.” Eva chuckles walking towards the cooler bit of the shop where their chocolates are kept. “We’ve also got peppermint toads, or chocolate frogs, chocoballs…” Eva keeps prattling on her list of chocolate flavored items rather quickly and deftly. It’s obvious the woman has a very good mental inventory of sweets. “If you came tomorrow, we’d have various flavored truffles available as well. Some of them are still aging, so we can’t put them out just yet.” She smiles at Morgawse, waiting for her order, and glancing occasionally at her girls and sleeping infant. Eva is more protective than she seems, apparently.

Morgawse hrms, “I think I’d like to at least try a chocobat.. and a few peppermint toads.” She nods, turning down to get out her money pouch. Of course, it matches today’s outfit, being produced to the world in the shape of a large plush-like heart. “I think that’ll be it though for today. And I’ll have to check in about the truffles. That is… unless I come to my senses between now and then.” She giggles.

“Oh, dearest,” Sibyl Wexler sighs, fond and regretful, pulling closer to her husband even as she shakes her head in response to his words. “No, I can’t leave. They need me at the school, love, you know that. And I’m feeling fine. Better than I have been in weeks, in fact.” Sibyl leans in towards Basil’s affectionate touch, gentle yet firm as she says, “I miss you too, but they need me.”

“Alrighty,” Eva responds as she gets together the things that Morgawse as requested and heads back behind the counter, tallying up the total in her head, which she then states to Morgawse, smiling happily as her girls giggle and play behind her. “And thank you for being so indulgent to my girls. They simply aren’t used to such brilliant colors.” Eva chuckles and hands the woman in front of her a neatly closed bag of sweets in exchange for payment, which she then plunks into the register. “If you’ve any special requests, I can let Maura know and she can work on those while she makes the newest batch of truffles.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dare.” Morgawse offers warmly as she pays the woman, shaking her head, “Having sweets specially made for me is a little out of my league.” “And it was a pleasure, ladies.” She smiles over to the girls, giving a mock curtsey, “‘ta!” With that, the eccentric Miss Novak pulls up her hood and turns to exit, smiling over to the couple who entered Cordial Confections not long before her.

“I know,” Basil admits, sighing again despite himself. He can’t help but want Sibyl home with him, though he knows she would rather be doing what she loved: taking care of people. Oughtn’t she be taking care of him? He doesn’t voice this thought, however, knowing full well that he is capable of taking good care of himself, though he would much rather have his Sibyl there helping with it. “Shall we get you back to the school then?” he suggests, picking up the three bags of sweets and putting his free arm around Sibyl’s not-yet-large waist.

“Well, they don’t need me right now…” Sibyl moderates her earlier statement with a grin, and a gleam of mischief in her bluish-green eyes. “We could do a bit more shopping, and then pick up the younger ones. I’ve got to see them before I go back.” She twines her hand through the crook of Basil’s arm, fishing into the bag for another one of the truffles. “Oh – goodbye,” Sibyl adds, giving an easy, friendly smile in return to the woman in pink before she turns back to her husband. “We’ve got plenty of time before I need to be back at Hogwarts.”

Basil, having given little reaction to Morgawse, does little now to bid her farewell, though he does give a polite nod. “How about a trip to the Quidditch shop? Or maybe the menagerie? Has Briony got enough Owl treats still?” Basil suggests, beginning to walk towards the door of the shop slowly with his wife. “Alice and Alden are always glad to see you. I do think they miss not having you around all the time. Though, that will be solved a bit when Alden goes to school next year.” He sighs very silently as they near the door.

“And I miss them, too,” Sibyl replies, her smile dimming wistfully. “And you. But that’s what my days off are for, isn’t it?” Sibyl‘s good cheer is only a little forced, and only for the briefest of moments. And then she moves closer to her husband, curling her arm more tightly through his to give comfort to him and herself in the same gesture. “Let’s go to the Quidditch shop,” she suggests. “Briony’s so proud of having made the team – we should get her a little something.” Sibyl‘s hand reaches down again, poking into the bag for another truffle, which she pops into her mouth with a surreptitious grin of satisfaction.

“That sounds like a good idea,” the man agrees and escorts his wife out of the candy shop without so much as a glance back at his sister. Eva has busied herself with her children again anyway, now with an empty shop once again. He opens up the bag that Eva has put together for Sibyl and holds it so that she might more easily get into it as they walk away from the usually bustling candy shop. He is very quiet as they make their way through the alley, which is certainly not lacking for business, despite that it it is nowhere near the Holidays. These moments with Sibyl are his favorite, when he has her all to himself. Yes, Basil might miss her, but he certainly appreciates the moments that they manage to be together.

are here.

Rain patters soothingly against the stone walls and closed windows of the infirmary, lulling the young patients even deeper into sleep while the assistant nurse makes her rounds, checking on each one in turn. From farther back in the narrow corridors of the hospital wing, the soft sound of Sibyl Wexler‘s whistling can be heard, a bright, cheerful sound floating out of her office to rise above the other, quieter ones. The nurse’s ruddy face is slightly paler than usual, and a bottle of sparkling blue potion sits within easy reach as Sibyl sits at her desk, shuffling through papers, but her expression has settled back into a comfortable half-smile as she works busily away.

Olivia Baxtor stops just outside the Hospital Wing, and glances around. Before she enters, Olivia takes a deep breath and steps in, stopping just inside the door. “Misses Wexler?” she asks quietly, not wanting to speak too loudly, lest she wake up any patients that might be sleeping. The girl has come for one reason or another, and whatever the reason, she looks a bit unsure, perhaps perplexed, even maybe a bit nervous.

“Yes, dear?” Sibyl answers automatically at the sound of a youthful voice, even before she has looked up from her paperwork to see the identity of her visitor. A warm smile greets the girl, even as the nurse’s eyes narrow slightly to give Olivia a searching, professional glance up and down. “Are you feeling all right? Come in – what’s your name, dear?” Sibyl interrupts herself to ask, motioning invitingly to the chair across the desk from her.

“Olivia,” the girl answers quietly as she steps farther in and comes closer to the desk, stopping just behind the chair that she has been beckoned to. “I was wondering if — well, er — I mean, i-if you aren’t busy or anything.” The girl glances around at all the beds to make sure there aren’t too many full for her conscience. “Well, er, I had a question for you if you aren’t too busy.” The girl still seems a bit nervous as she finally takes her seat in the chair across from the desk.

Sibyl‘s quill goes down, and she closes a folder over the top of her paperwork – a small ribbon at the edge of the folder automatically ties itself into a knot, sealing the folder into confidentiality. She pushes the folder and pen away from her, giving her full attention to the girl in front of her. “Olivia, then,” Sibyl repeats, with a warm, reassuring smile. “Of course. You can ask anything you like, dear. Would you like some tea?” she adds, glancing over at the tea set on one of the nearby shelves. “Or pumpkin juice?”

“Maybe some tea?” Olivia answers, sounding rather grateful at the offer for distraction from what she is really here for. The girl sits up rather straight in her chair, and looks around quickly, then tucks her hands underneath her legs, as if unsure of what to do with them. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting you? You aren’t busy?” the girl reiterates, just to make sure.

“Absolutely, dear,” Sibyl replies warmly. She pushes back her chair and bustles over to the shelf where her tea set resides, starting to pick it up – then glances back over her shoulder at her paper-covered desk, and decides to just leave the tea tray where it is. She fishes her wand out of the loosely-wrapped belt of her robes, and taps the side of the teapot to set it steaming again. “Milk? Sugar?” Sibyl glances back over her shoulder at Olivia, giving the girl another friendly, comfortable smile. “Olivia, dear, it’s really all right. I’m a nurse – you can ask me about anything. I can close the door to my office, if you’d like to have more privacy?”

“No, that’s alright,” she responds and shakes her head, not wanting to be an inconvenience at all. “Just plain tea, thank you,” she responds and leans back in the chair a bit. “Well, I — I don’t know if you can help me, really, but I wanted to ask. It’s really been bothering me.” The girl’s demeanor seems to predict a very serious predicament, though there appears to be nothing wrong with the girl. Olivia bites her lip, still not having relaxed very much.

“There you go, then.” Sibyl leans over to hand Olivia one of the cups of tea, and gives the girl a comforting pat on the shoulder as she withdraws, then adds two lumps of sugar to her own before settling down behind the desk again. She hesitates for a moment, glancing from the potion bottle to Olivia and back again – and then gives in and reaches for the potion, pouring a few drops into her teacup along with the sugar. “Now, what is it, dear? Really, you can tell me anything. And I’ll do my best to help you, whatever it is.”

Taking the tea with a grateful smile, Olivia seems to relax a bit as she sips the hot tea carefully. “Well, er,” she starts, looking down at her tea, then setting the cup and saucer down into her lap as she slowly runs her finger along the length of the saucer. “I — I’ve always hated my teeth, and –” The fourth year falters momentarily, and takes a quick sip of her tea. “Well, I– I wanted to know if there was something that might fix them.”

“Ah…” Sibyl murmurs, nodding slowly as understanding dawns. For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything else, just taking a long sip of her tea and looking Olivia over with careful, searching eyes. “Let’s see, then,” she says at last. She sets down her teacup, and leans forward over her desk to get a better look as she prompts gently, “Smile for me, dear?”

Obediently, Olivia opens her mouth to display an array of quite crooked teeth, though all of them nicely shaped, not one is facing a proper direction. She lifts her head to display the set of teeth to Sibyl, though her mouth is hardly shaped into a smile. She quickly closes her lips over her teeth, reddening cheeks a display of how little she likes the teeth. She says nothing however, diverting her eyes and taking another rather embrrassed sip of her tea.

“Mmm. I see.” Sibyl nods slowly, her tone calm and neutral as she gives the girl’s teeth a quick, professional glance. “Thank you, dear,” she adds, with another reassuring smile. “Have you talked to your parents about this? Do they know how you feel” Sibyl sits back, taking another sip of her tea, and giving Olivia a steady look over the top of her teacup.

The girl sips her tea slowly an then shake her head. “I’ve mentioned it, but mum never says anything, she tells me to hush.” The girl only glances at Sibyl momentarily, feeling almost ashamed for her selfish reason for being here. “My — my sisters don’t have ugly crooked teeth, their teeth are straight and lovely, like mother’s.” The girl rubs at her eye momentarily, to prevent a tear from possibly falling. “She probably thinks me frivolous for hating them so.” Her voice is quiet, as if Olivia is even ashamed of herself for wanting this little bit of vanity.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Sibyl sighs, her expression softening with sympathy as she reaches out a hand across the table towards the girl. “Some people don’t understand.” However small the problem might seem to others, it is deadly serious to Olivia, and therefore, it is serious to Sibyl too – she gives the student’s distress nothing but sympathy in return. “Is your mum – forgive me for asking, dear, if it’s a personal question – but is she a Muggle or a wizard?”

“She’s a wizard; we’re all wizards at home,” Livvy answers quietly still. “She just doesn’t understand.” To tell the truth, if Olivia‘s mother even noticed the question, it would be truly shocking. “I feel terribly selfish, wanting something like this, maybe I shouldn’t have asked in the first place.” The girl sets her teacup and saucer down on the desk and standing up quickly, turning to walk away, quickly, but stopping short as she gets halfway across the room, wiping both her eyes. It seems as if Olivia is torn between vanity and selflessness.

At the sight of the girl’s tears, Sibyl springs up, hurrying across the room to catch Olivia before she can flee. Her arms reach out to fold the girl into a comforting hug – but they do not touch down yet, keeping her distance unless Olivia accepts the gesture in return. “Oh, Olivia, dear, it’s all right. I don’t mind you asking at all. Honestly, it’s a relief to have someone in here who’s already healthy, and who just wants to make herself a little more healthy!” A gentle laugh rises up – not from amusement at the girl’s predicament, just a soothing sound to punctuate her own light statement. “Now, let’s sit down and talk about this some more. I can tell that it’s very important to you.”

“Alright,” Olivia agrees, and turns into Sibyl’s hug with a bit of relief. The tears flow more readily, and seem to fall directly onto Sibyl’s shoulder, where Olivia lays her head. The girl is clearly in need of some motherly attention, and wraps her arms back around Sibyl slowly, almost as if she oughtn’t do such a thing. The girl sighs happily. “I really wish I had been born with straight teeth,” she laments quietly into the woman’s shoulder, her voice unsteady.

Sibyl‘s arms fold comfortingly around Olivia, and she lets out a soft, sighing, “Sh… it’s all right.. . ” One hand reaches up to smooth down the girl’s hair, as Sibyl murmurs, “I know, dear, I know.” There is maternal affection here to spare, it seems, and Sibyl gives hers freely. “You’re a lovely girl, Olivia, just the way you are. But I do understand wanting to make things better, and I want to help you if I can. It will make you healthier, too – straight teeth are easier to keep clean, even with magical cleaning charms.” Her broad hand keeps up a steady, gentle rhythm as it strokes against Olivia’s fair hair. “I’ll need to get your mother’s permission before I do anything, though. I wouldn’t feel right otherwise.”

“Oh, do you really?” Olivia responds, disappointed, standing back from the woman, her face crestfallen. “I don’t know if she would let me. She’d probably think me so … so shallow.” The girl sighs and removes her arms from the nurse. “Well — er, thank you for — for your help,” the girl responds, folding her arms behind her back and looks down at her shoes. “I suppose I could ask my mother, but I imagine I know what her answer will be. Thank you, anyway.” The girl turns and starts to slowly walk out of the office, her disappointment very apparent.

Sibyl turns quickly to follow Olivia, and her hand reaches out to touch Olivia on the shoulder – not forcefully holding the girl back, just adding a gentle physical touch to her words. “I’m not sending you away, dear!” she hastens to reassure her. “And I’m not saying that I won’t do it. I’ll send an owl to your mother – I’ll point out the health benefits, and perhaps that will convince her. I wouldn’t feel right doing it without her permission, though,” Sibyl reiterates, offering a sympathetic, conciliatory smile. “Because it’s not an emergency sort of thing, you understand. And if I just did it on my own,” she adds, her turquoise eyes sparking with mischief, “without parental permission or concern for health, I’d have people coming to me asking for smaller noses and different-shaped ears and different-colored hair every five minutes.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense,” Olivia responds an pauses at the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. The girl sounds upset, but resigned. “There’s no way you could do it without talking to her first?” The girl turns to look at Sibyl, her eyes no longer welling up with tears, but still rather hopeful for at least a chance. Obviously the girl doesn’t think her mother will consent to such a thing.

“I just wouldn’t feel right,” Sibyl says again, reaching out to circle her arm around Olivia’s shoulders, softening her words with another comforting gesture. “But I’m sure your mother will come round – maybe all it will take is hearing it from a nurse. You’d be surprised what sort of change that can make in some people.” Mischief twinkles in Sibyl‘s eyes again, and she gives the girl’s shoulder another gentle pat. “Don’t worry, Olivia dear. I’ll take care of it. Now, come on back and finish your tea.” From another one of the pockets of her voluminous robe, she pulls a handkerchief, and tucks it into the girl’s hand.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll go back to my commons now.” She pauses. “I should probably work on homework.” The girl offers a closed-lipped half smile to Sibyl and turns and slowly walks out the door, headed towards the third floor landing. Perhaps she’s just melancholy in general, or the situation really does perplex her. Those who don’t know her well would find it difficult to tell that anything was even different. Olivia‘s pace is slow but careful as she heads back to her commonroom to presumably work on homework.