#post-hogwarts

Draco knew better than to trust Theo and knew also that he’d trust Theo with his life, his magic, and his mind.

He hid the madeleines from the man though. Greedy, Theo was, and not above a bit of light wandless thievery.

The vials of memory had been provided by Potter. Draco saw Neville’s hand in the careful packing, his script old-fashioned, clearly learnt from his grandmother, but the majority of the memories were Harry’s own, which Draco knew Neville regretted, as it reflected all the time Harry and Hermione had spent together, all the confidences exchanged and the exasperated sighs, the closeness between them greater than any intimacy she’d shared with Ron Weasley, let alone Neville, who’d pined for her from afar. There were one or two from a variety of other people, Neville and Ron, Bill and Luna and most unexpectedly, a trio from Blaise Zabini. He hadn’t known Blaise to ever have a conversation with Hermione, let alone some encounter significant enough to merit the review of the memory. He remembered only some sneering, which was Zabini’s signature expression, and the occasional sharp appraisal, which was made from equal parts quirked lip and subtly raised eyebrow, the latter happening more frequently after the Yule Ball, following that entrance she’d made in periwinkle chiffon.

As tempting as it was to begin with one of Blaise’s memories, the more logical approach was to start with one of Harry’s, as they would form the matrix. What he’d gleaned from Hermione’s journals suggested to Draco that logic ought to be the primary guide for his decisions. Once he’d gotten through her encryptions and her copious digressions, each followed to its likely conclusion, it had become clear Hermione relied upon the principles of logic, even as she invented new spells and arguably, an entirely new field of cognitive charmwork.

He chose the first of Neville’s memories, because unlike Hermione, Draco had a healthy regard for intuition. Neville had been the one to come to him and his combination of strength, kindness, and loyalty felt like the safest and most productive place to start from. Begin as you mean to go on was something Aunt Andromeda, the wisest of the Black sisters, always said, even if she might have borrowed it from her Muggleborn husband who’d died in the War, a man Draco had never met, but whose absence Draco felt viscerally during his visits to Aunt Andromeda’s tatty little cottage. 

(Was it a haunting if there was no ghost? Draco tucked this away as a question for Theo, or Hermione herself, should he succeed in rescuing her.)

Neville’s memory spilled from its vial as smoothly as one of the man’s own herbal syrups. Though silver, there were somehow hints of green, the whiff of freshly turned earth unmistakable, as forthright as Neville himself. Draco set his face to the wide bowl and entered.

“I didn’t say I don’t understand, I said I don’t think you do,” memory-Neville said, his restraint perceptible not through the tone of his voice but a tension Draco felt in his own throat and hands. He had little enough experience of Penseives, but this must be one of Theo’s “little tweaks,” the access to the original emotions, an immersion, not simply a viewing.

“You think I don’t understand?” memory-Hermione replied, a statement that would have seemed cruel, save for the desperate expression in her eyes and Neville’s response, his urge to take Hermione in his arms.

“It’s not the same as before, with Harry,” Neville said. “And you haven’t been taking care of yourself, when you could—”

“I’ve lived through far worse, Neville,” Hermione snapped.

“I know that. I know you didn’t have a choice then and you do now. I know what you’re choosing now and it’s not yourself,” he said.

“Of course it is! They’re happy, happy enough. I ought to leave them alone, this is selfish, as selfish as it could possibly be, to risk their lives,” Hermione said.

“You’re the least selfish person I know, pet,” Neville said softly. Draco was startled by the endearment, the warmth of Neville’s accent, the fact that Hermione didn’t bristle or blaze, closed her eyes for a moment.

“What if they’re in there, waiting for me? What if they think I’ve given up or forgotten them?” she said.

“That’s impossible,” Neville said. Draco supposed Neville had a right to define what was and wasn’t possible, given that he’d taken Nagini’s head off in one bloody great slice, wearing a lumpy cardigan and corduroys no House-Elf could ever have come a mile within laundering.

“Why?”

“Because you did the research. And wrote the spells. And they knew what you were capable of,” Neville said.

“You think I’m better than I am,” she replied.

“No, pet. You underestimate yourself but I don’t. If you’ve made a mistake, it will be brilliant, some bit of cleverness turned back on itself, that you didn’t notice because you were getting all the important parts done, even when they shouldn’t be able to be done at all,” Neville said. He was proud of her and so worried and she shrugged both off, wrinkling her brow.

It was the bit of cleverness that she had focused on. Draco knew that because it’s what he would have been caught by and they’d always been more alike as students than anyone gave them credit for, except possibly Binns, who gave them no credit whatsoever.

“I’ve got to go, there’s something wrong—well, it mayn’t be but it may, the equation made it work but there might be a corollary, a dropped infinitive…” she trailed off, abstracted.

“I’ll pop round tonight with dinner, that curry you like and plenty of butter naan,” Neville said.

“I don’t think I’ll be up to having dinner with you,” she said. It was something she’d said often enough the apology was threaded through, she was comfortable enough pushing him away. The intimacy it conveyed, the rejection—it was breathtaking. Neville, evidently accustomed to Hermione in ways Draco knew himself to be ignorant of with frankly anyone, sighed just a little.

“I’m not staying. You’ll want leftovers, otherwise you won’t eat breakfast. I’ll pack some lemon curd too. It’s home-made so you can’t say no,” he said.

Hermione smiled, a small, tired smile that made her pretty mouth altogether lovely, altogether enticing.

And then, the memory ended, as if it were complete. As if Draco would not know that time had continued to run on, even if neither Neville nor Hermione remembered what came after.

He’d been right to start with Neville’s memory. Hermione herself would likely agree there was no one who saw her in as admiring a light, no one who took into account her flaws and still held her in the highest esteem. 

And no one else who knew so well what she’d begun to consider—that she hadn’t made a mistake but she hadn’t accounted for every eventuality, certainly not the eventuality that had her locked away.

Huffing, Tony slid the glasses up his forehead. They had been a gift from Dummy, which was the only reason he bothered using them. That and also the fact that some starry-eyed Asgardians had put their eyes out trying to emulate him welding without safety glasses. The eyes had been taken care of but it wasn’t an experience Tony wanted to repeat. 

It looked like today was a human clothes day for Michael. The shirt was a little threadbare and looked like it might have come from Luna’s closet with the sparkly unicorn beaming at the viewer.

“What can I do for you, bro?” Tony asked after a long moment of silence. He could have kept it going a little longer but Michael was beginning to seem a bit nervous.

Michael’s question was straight out of left field. “You parented five children, right?”

Tony blinked, straightening a little further and shoving the glasses up further into his hair. “Give or take… Why?”

“How did you handle it?”

“Being a parent?”

“Yes.”

This was not a conversation that he could half-ass. This was also not a conversation he’d ever pictured having with Michael. “Are you expecting?” he asked. Gabriel thought he would have noticed if Michael was expecting. That kind of thing was hard to miss. But Michael seemed entirely normal except for the nerves.

Michael shook his head, attention falling to the dismantled flying chariot. “It’s…a possibility. Human,” he added after a second.

…Why was Michael here asking Gabriel this question? Why was Michael even considering this in the first place? Gabriel had so many questions and the only one he could really think of to say first wasn’t even a question and more of a statement. “The question of adoption is one best asked of your partner, not your sibling.”

Michael’s lips thinned. “I’m not discussing it without knowing if it’s even a good idea.”

That definitely sounded like Michael there. “So you’re asking me if raising a human kid is a good idea?”

Michael shrugged, then nodded once.

Gabriel spread his hands, shrugging broadly. “I don’t know.”

Michael frowned. “You raised five—”

Gabriel cut him off with a raised finger. “I raised one. The others were out of infancy by the time I realized what had happened.”

“They were still children,” Michael pointed out evenly. “And they all speak very highly of you, even Samael.”

Gabriel cleared his throat, squashing down a wave of embarrassment. “Right. Well. I think that’s only to be expected given they’re my kids. Except for Samael; ne’s probably pulling your leg.”

“No.” There was no room for argument in Michael’s tone.

“…Right.” Gabriel opted not to argue that point. “So…that’s why you’re here? Because I’m the most well-adjusted parent you know?”

“You’re the only parent I know who’s also an angel.”

Gabriel rubbed a hand over his face, pinching his nose. “You’re going to fuck up,” he said eventually. “I did. This isn’t something you can do perfectly.”

“You did it successfully,” Michael said quietly. “And I…I wasn’t very successful before with our family.”

It was going to be one of those conversations…

Gabriel set down his glasses on the table and wiped his hands clean with a cloth before dropping it over the glasses. “Sit down.” He gestured towards the bench of the flying chariot.

Michael shot the bench a look. “It’s dismantled?”

“The engine, not the bench. It won’t bite or take off without me putting the power source back in, so sit.”

Michael did sit without further protest. In the meantime, Gabriel retrieved the ingredients he needed. If someone had told him an eternity ago that he would be making hot chocolate by hand and would have been doing so for years he would have laughed them out of the room.

But life had a way of playing jokes on everyone.

There was definite confusion from Michael as he watched Gabriel, though he said nothing and stayed silent all the way until Gabriel gave him his share.

Michael gave the Iron Man mug a look, looked past Gabriel’s head to where one of the suits was on display, and then side-eyed Gabriel.

Gabriel stared him in the eye, drinking out of his own Captain America mug. It had little wings. 

With a distinct air of resignation, Michael took a drink.

Gabriel let the warmth of the mug sink into his hands for a little before he broke the silence. “What happened with us…you weren’t our parent. Yes, we were responsible for taking care of them, but not as parents. This, what you’re thinking of doing, is already completely different.”

Michael looked down at his hot chocolate. “The responsibility is still the same, isn’t it?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. It’s more.”

Predictably, Michael seemed aghast.

“Parenting is terrifying,” Gabriel continued before Michael could twist himself up into knots. “You never know if you could mess something up and ruin what you’re trying to protect.” Raising Samael had been the hardest and most terrifying years of his existence and Gabriel had been through literal Hell. His other children had been significantly easier without the pressure of “this is the one who wanted to destroy the world and might again if you fuck it up.” “But it’s also amazing.”

There was no response from Michael beyond a thoughtful silence. 

Gabriel let him sit in it for a little, drinking some more of his hot chocolate. He was about halfway done when Michael spoke. “It’s not something I ever pictured myself doing.”

Gabriel shrugged lightly. “I didn’t either.”

“You’ve always managed to adapt to circumstances.”

Michael continuing to think so highly of Gabriel never failed to baffle him. “And you haven’t?”

“Not nearly so easily,” Michael said quietly.

Gabriel snorted. “Easily? You came in after I already did all the adjusting. I got kicked into gear by two humans all those years ago and still got kicked into gear by my very human friends afterwards. Nothing has ever been busy; I’ve just gotten slightly better at handling situations. And so will you.”

“Your confidence is appreciated.”

Gabriel nudged Michael’s mug in reminder that he should drink it. “I can’t be the only one. What about your parents?”

Michael took a long drink before responding. Half of it seemed to be in order to hide his face from Gabriel. It was very human. “They think it’ll be fine, but they’re…very biased.” He looked down at the slight steam wafting up from the dark liquid in his mug. “And they’ve said they’d be willing to do it if I won’t.”

It seemed to be more than just the average situation if Michael’s human parents were willing to step in. Then again, it had to be considering Michael was even considering this. 

“But you are willing?” Gabriel asked.

Michael was quiet for some time. “Draco needs an heir.”

Ohhh, pureblood politics. “And is this something you’ve talked to him about?”

“Yes.”

“And what does he say?”

Michael ran a finger over the lip of the mug. “He says he doesn’t care, yet the pressure is bothering him. Now this and…it would be a good solution.”

“A kid shouldn’t be a solution,” Gabriel said after a moment, “but something you want.”

Michael stared down at his drink. “You didn’t necessarily want to turn Samael into a child.”

Gabriel winced. “Not…exactly. But I knew what I was signing up for, even though I didn’t feel at all like I was prepared for it. From what I’ve picked from every other mortal parent I’ve known, it’s a universal experience. You’re never prepared to be a parent.”

Michael sighed, closing his eyes. “You’re not exactly helping here, Gabriel.”

Gabriel shoved him. “I’m being very helpful. You just don’t appreciate my lauded wisdom. I can’t prepare you for this because there is no preparing for it. Consider yourself blessed to have forewarning.”

Michael rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I saw him,” he said, “and thought for an instant it was a sign from Him, only to remember that He was gone and couldn’t have anything to do with it. And I doubt you would have done it without informing me ahead of time.”

Gabriel turned a part of his attention to the moment Michael spoke of, gaining full awareness of all he meant. There was a slight jolt from Michael at this, which Gabriel ignored. “…No. I had nothing to do with it.”

Michael sighed again.

Gabriel pulled himself back into his vessel, letting that newer part of himself go. “I would have thought the same,” he said after a moment. “I still do at times. But…we only have us now.” And he was… It wasn’t something Gabriel was comfortable voicing even in the privacy of his own head because he was all too aware of how fallible he was. The fact that he had all the power at the tips of his fingers?

It could go so very wrong.

Unprompted, Michael took a long draught from his mug. “Do you have any advice?” he asked. “As a parent?”

Gabriel bit back his first response, which was something along the lines of “don’t drop the baby on his head,” and which would have netted him a very unhappy Michael. He mulled the question over. “You love your human parents, right?”

There was a twitch in Michael’s jaw, and Gabriel felt the discomfort radiating from him. But it was a testament to how far Michael had come and maybe also how comfortable he was with Gabriel that he eventually responded with a short nod. 

The question had been rhetorical, anyway. Anyone could see how much Michael loved his human parents, and if he’d tried to say anything other than “yes” Gabriel would have called him on it. “Why?”

Michael picked up on his sincerity, since he gave the question serious consideration despite his discomfort. “Their warmth,” he answered eventually.

“What about when you were just plain old Wayne Hopkins?”

Michael frowned slightly. “They were always there for me,” he said slowly. “No matter what I did as a child…they never left.”

A rush of warmth, faded memories, and emotions surged past Gabriel where he was pressed against Michael. He felt hands run through his hair, patting his back, kissing his foreheadcheeksnose, arms holding him close, scolding words that were still gentle, and always the presence of knowing. Gabriel pulled back, breathing in slowly. “Yeah,” he managed, “there you go.”

Michael tilted his head, brow furrowing in slight confusion.

“It’s the same,” Gabriel said, focusing on the feel of the mug in his hands, the hot chocolate that was hot only because of literal divine intervention. “All you need to do is just…listen. Be there. You might not always get it right, but just let him know…you’re always in his corner. If you have that as a starting point, you’ll be fine, Michael.”

Michael pressed against Gabriel, closing the slight distance Gabriel had put between them. There was gratitude there, warmth and love and exhaustion, though that last one was less than it had been before. “Thank you.”

This was about Michael, not his own shit. Especially not shit Gabriel hadn’t even admitted to himself. Gabriel pulled himself together, slinging an arm around Michael’s shoulders and pulling him in the rest of the way. “Any time.” He folded his Grace over Michael’s, then kissed him on the cheek.

There was a startled jolt, Michael staring at him.

“Since you liked the kisses so much,” Gabriel said blandly.

Michael huffed at him, incredulity and shy embarrassment seeping from him. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his lips were twitching. “Thank you. Really.”

Harper:

Harper is fresh out of her Auror training, but not yet high-ranking on the force, despite her natural skill. She's a bit of a loose canon, tbh. The only reason she made it on the force was because of her reputation as the Hero of Hogwarts and the recommendations of Sharp and Hecat. But if you asked her commander, she is a pain. In. The. Ass. She rarely listens to orders, and the only reason she hasn't been kicked off the force is because Natty, her partner, sticks up for her and keeps her out of trouble the best she can. She's a completely different person from the refined, chin-lifted-high young lady who first entered Hogwarts. She currently lives in London as a roommate to Ominis. Sebastian is... missing. Unfortunately, things between her and Garreth didn't work out 😢, but they're on good terms, at the very least.

Tibby:

After graduation, she continued to work at her Aunt's shop, Dogweed and Deathcap, now as a full-time employee. Slowly, she began taking more and more responsibilities around the shop, doing the tasks her Auntie Bea grew more winded at. By the time she was twenty-one, Beatrice Green told her niece of her plans to retire. Now, at this point in her life, Tibby is making arrangements to fully take over the shop, and hopefully hire on a part-timer from Hogwarts while her Aunt browses locations to take a month-long holiday at. The Thai rainforests look lovely this time of year 😊

Brianna:

After taking a gap year, Brianna roused the courage to tell her parents of her plans. They, of course, were overjoyed, giving her their full support for her dreams to go study Alchemy abroad. Rowan, her little brother, took the news pretty badly. He had to be dragged by their father to London, where they saw Brianna off on her train to Transylvania. He wouldn't look at her. Now, she's studying at the Transylvanian Institute of Alchemy (think a specialized college/university for wizards), and has plans to graduate in a few years

Caitrìona:

She knew this was going to happen for years. It was in her seventh year that her parents announced that they'd arranged a marriage between her and Alastair Yaxley; a man at least ten years her senior. She managed to put off the ceremony for a few years, going to Italy to study language and arts, but she couldn't stall forever. When she returned home after two years away, she was married within the month. Now, all she must worry about as a pureblood wife is commanding the house and mothering the next generation of Muggle-hating purebloods.