#ssficlets

For a petite human, Genevieve James gave off big person energy.  She paced the length of the hospital waiting room, climbed over furniture, and fidgeted every time she got within reach of the chairs. From his seat, Maximus watched her go, the twins Teddy and Fifi pacing and climbing and fidgeting in her wake. It would have brought him comfort to have Vivi seated beside her, leg tapping away until his whole body jostled, warm side of her body pressed against his side.  He would put an arm around her, and he would tell her that everything was going to be okay.

Comforting his wife would bring him comfort, but Vivi didn’t want comfort.  She wanted to move.  So Max let her move, although he would snag a duckling twin on occasion and cuddle them into submission.

Across the waiting room, his mother knitted tiny Quidditch jerseys while she chatted with his mother-in-law.  Cassandra Rae-Branxton glared at Healers as they passed and watched her daughter pace.

This was going well.

“Go home pease?” Teddy climbed onto the chair beside Max and let his head rest against his arm.

“We can’t go home, bud. We’re waiting for your new sister.”

Teddy gave a quiet huff. His discomfiture drew his twin, and Fifi squeezed into the chair beside him.  Like a good mama duck, Vivi ended her pacing and unpacked snacks and boxes of juice from a satchel.  She was still long enough for Max to snag, and he dragged her into his lap.

“What if…”  He could feel the moment she let herself feel the emotions swirling beneath the nervous energy, her body sagging against his shoulder.

“You know a mother’s heart just gets bigger and bigger, right?  There’s no maximum capacity for love.”  He rested a chin against the top of her head.  It was better not to remind her that she’d been miserable learning that getting pregnant again after the twins wasn’t possible, that she’d bury her face in her nephew Cooper’s hair while everyone pretended not to notice. Better not to point out that this was the only way their family was going to grow, even if she was stretched and white around the edges over the thought that she might not be able to love this new baby the way she loved the twins.

A Healer in billowing robes burst through the doors at the end of the waiting room, a tiny pink bundle in her arms, and Vivi scrambled out of Max’s lap.  She was climbing over furniture again, plucking that bundle right out of the protesting Healer’s arms, but Max couldn’t see her face.

The whole room held its breath as mother took in the face of her child for the first time, and then… “Oh. Hi.”  Vivi’s voice was so soft, so gentle, the whisper of a huge heart that most people never got to see.  She brought the baby to Max and Teddy and Fifi, dropping to a crouch so they could all look at her tiny scrunched features.

“This is your new sister, guys.”

Teddy looked properly awed, but Fifi pushed the baby away.  “No fank you.”  

“I dare you to…” Aries Flamsteed tipped up on his toes, his eyes darting around his father’s office in search of the perfect dare.

“You can’t dare me no more. Any more.”  Atlas lurked behind his brother just over the threshold.  He was coming in.  He was definitely coming in, because Aries had gone in, and because everyone knew that nothing truly bad happened if you entered the inner sanctum. Just that Dad made that face where his eyebrows looked like they were fighting, and Atlas felt sick about fighting eyebrows.

“I can dare you if I want to dare you.”  Aries scowled at his twin before crossing boldly to the desk.  Now there was no question that he was in the office. Fully in the office.  No fear.

“Mum says no more dares because then we work ourselves up to a frenzy and things HAPPEN.”  But Atlas tiptoed across the threshold, and he felt like a weight lifted when the walls didn’t come tumbling down on their heads.  It was okay to be in here as long as they didn’t touch anything.

Aries picked up a lint roller.  They were going to Azkaban.  The walls were definitely going to fall in!  “She said you don’t have to do the dares just ‘cause I make them.  That’s not the same thing.  So I can make dares and I’m not breaking any rules, but you either have to not do the dare and break twin code or do the dare and break Mum’s rules.”

A conundrum.

Atlas picked up Pebbles from the corner of the desk and stared into the pet rock’s silly eyeballs. “You could just not dare me so I don’t have to decide.”  So he didn’t have to upset someone.  Upsetting his twin or upsetting his mother (his father was already going to be upset because here they were touching things).  Atlas EEPed loudly and dropped Pebbles back onto the desk.

“But I do want to dare you. I dare you to dare ME.”

“You know what?” Celyn Ashburry Hawthorne buried her hands in her brother’s hair and pulled his head back so that she could look him in the eyes.  His expression flickered for a moment, probably pain from having his head jerked around by a nine-year-old, but the fixed look of patient interest in every word she said remained.

“What?”  Derfael didn’t pull his head free, although the position was hell on his neck, and he didn’t fuss at her.  Perhaps the advantage of their age gap was that they’d skipped the squabbling stage for the most part.  Derf was leaving for school around the time Celyn was toddling through the house terrorizing plants, animals, and parents.  “I know a lot of things.  I might already know what.”

“I don’t think you know this, though.”  Celyn loosened her grip on his hair and gave his head a pat.  “You think you’re very smart now that you’re graduating from Hogwarts, but there’s still lotsa stuff you don’t know.”

“I’ll still be around. After Hogwarts.”

“Around the whole world.”

Derf twisted in his seat so he could look at Celyn’s solemn little face.  “The world isn’t so big for a wizard.”

“It’s the world, Derf.” She chewed on her lip.  “It’s pretty big for anyone.”

He reached out and untied her shoe.  Typical annoying brother stuff.  “You were going to tell me what, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!”  Her face lit up once again.  “Do you know what?”

“Probably I do, but tell me anyway.”

Samuel Summers wasn’t normally a lurker.  By and large, he could be heard coming from a mile away, and those moments when he startled someone by NOT being heard coming from a mile away made his insides churn. There was good attention, and there was bad attention, and being a lurker never got good attention.

He was a lurker today, though, waiting for his older sister to pass by on her way back from class. She’d probably be with a bunch of her friends, because girls traveled in packs.  Like wolves, only not like wolves, because wolves didn’t mysteriously disappear into the loo together or give each other enigmatic looks while you were talking to them or laugh when you hadn’t even MEANT TO BE FUNNY. Wolves were actually easier to understand than girls.

They also probably ate you, so it was a toss up about which he’d rather encounter in the corridor at Hogwarts.

Cecelia Summers appeared, blessedly alone, and Sammy popped out of his lurker spot just inside a classroom door.  Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him, but it was generally a fairly mild reaction to lurkering.  Lurking. Lurkerdom.  “Did you miss me, or are you lost?”

He’d been lost like ONE TIME his first year, geez.  “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, Sam.  Of course.”  He was glad he’d caught her alone, because her friends would tease him or be sarcastic or ask extra questions, but Cece just went soft around the eyes and closed them both into an empty classroom.  “What’s up?”

And now the moment was here, and it felt TERRIBLE.  Like pulling his own teeth, only it was like pulling his own teeth except without knowing where his teeth were or having any tools to do it with.  “Why… are… girls…?”

“Yeah, right?”  Cece took a seat on the top of a desk like it was a padded throne.  “Why ARE girls?  Impossible? Complicated?  Mean but nice but mean when you want them to be nice and nice when you want them to be mean?  And so pretty all the time, like is that FAIR?  And why are girls so confusing?”

Sammy sagged a little with relief.  All those things.  Yes.  “Yeah?”

It was Christmas morning, and Ashley Fox knew exactly how she wanted to celebrate before her brother woke up. The sun was cresting over the ocean, casting the water in cotton candy shades, and the sand was still cool under her bare feet.  It would warm up later, and the ocean would be more welcoming for swimmers and surfers, but the beaches got crowded once the sun was really up.

She dug her toes into the sand and continued to wax her new surfboard.  Since she’d essentially picked her own gift again this year, she didn’t feel bad about putting it to use before her dad had a chance to pretend to give it to her.  Assuming he remembered to show up for Christmas morning or whatever.  The smell of the wax was familiar, probably the way other kids found peppermint and turkey a familiar Christmas scent, and she almost felt bad about missing out on core memories before remembering that other kids didn’t get to catch waves as the sun rose on Christmas morning.  So she was lucky, and they actually had sucky lives.  Not the other way around.

A wave crested, catching the rising sun and glowing coral and gold before crashing back into the dark water below the swell, and Ashley knew it was time.  The board was ready.  She hefted the board under her arm, a tiny child struggling under the weight of her board, but the water made it lighter, and she was soon paddling away from the beach.

She drifted over the first few swells, riding her board and enjoying the way the sun made everything sparkle.  Her own Christmas lights.  And then there was a wave that was just for her, and she turned her board and assumed the pick-up position.  Riding the wave was better than Christmas cookies or matching family pajamas or drinking cocoa while Brandon opened his gifts and someone took a million pictures of them that all had a blurry thumb hovering in the corner.

But then the wave crashed before she was ready, the force of the water shoving her down and down and down until there was no cotton candy light but just darkness and her lungs felt like they were going to explode.  Every direction was down and she was alone in the ocean on Christmas morning.  Someone should be there to rescue her.  Someone should be there to notice.  Someone should miss her.

Her board shot past her to the surface, dragging her up with it, and Ashley broke into the warming air with a ragged sob.  It would be a while before she could trust her board again, before the ocean called her back for another chance.  Those weren’t permanent lessons learned on Christmas morning.

Cooper Branxton sniffed each t-shirt before stowing it in his pack.  His clothes were always impeccably clean, of course they were, but he’d watched his dad pack often enough to know that this was part of the ritual.  Of course, if Cooper’s clothes were always clean, that meant his father’s were probably clean too… so why was there so much sniffing going on?

A flash of dark hair and glasses in the doorway.  Cooper followed the sound of scampering feet down the hall to Mercer’s room.  His younger brother was sniffing his t-shirts before stuffing them into a pack that was as tall as he was.

“I told you already. You’re not coming.”  This was a father and son camping trip.  Not a father and SONS trip.

“But I want to come.” Mercer didn’t whine, but he did have that firm set to his jaw that meant resolve.  Stubbornness.  Both Mercer and his twin sister Marina did it, leaned in when Cooper or their dad would lean out.

“Well.  You can’t.  You’re not invited.”  Cooper settled a hand on Mercer’s shoulder to give him a comforting squeeze, but Mercer shook him off.  “It’s dangerous out there.  You might… get eaten by a bear.”

“I like bears.”

“That is definitely my kid,” their father Mo filled the room all at once, scooping up Mercer and trying to deposit him into his own pack in one motion.  Mercer shrieked with the hilarity of being put in the pack. Cooper just scowled.  “Bears are awesome.”

“Bears are awesome!” Mercer repeated with delight.  “Can I come camping?”

“What do you think, Coop?” Mo dropped Mercer onto his bed and shuffled through the pack.  He even sniffed a few t-shirts appreciatively.

“It’s dangerous…”  Not that danger ruled anything out in this family. Mo Branxton embraced danger… or at least, he embraced creatures, dangerous or not.

“What if Doc and the Baby Mermaid get lost in the woods someday?”  Mo nodded at Mercer, the so-called Doc.  Marina was the Baby Mermaid.  “You don’t want them not to know how to handle themselves in the woods.”

“I’d miss them forever,” Coop responded flatly.  It was a lost cause.  The squirt was going to be allowed to come.  “Whatever.”

“Doc, go tell Mum to pack us a lunch,” Mo sent The Squirt along on a mission for sandwiches and thermoses of cocoa.  He waited until Mercer had disappeared before turning his attention to removing everything from the pack and sifting out interesting rocks, stuffed animals, and snacks. “You’re lucky, you know?”

Cooper didn’t answer, just raised his eyebrows.  He was listening.

“I got to teach you how to camp.  How to fish. How to start a fire.  How to set up the tent and how to find the coolest birds… it was the most fun I’ve ever had.  And now you get to teach Doc.”  Mo laughed at Cooper’s expression.  “You don’t believe me?”

Working for the Minister for Magic wasn’t an easy job.  It was essentially work as a translator, finding ways to line Charles up with the world and line the world up with Charles.  Granted, Charles was the Minister, so the world needed to do more work than the man did.  And Kaiser worked harder than both.  So his days were spent trying to make the unexplainably complicated line up with the impossibly sunny Minister, and it would be nice if coming home meant shedding all the fiddly bits at the door and entering a cocoon of calmness.

It would be nice, and on occasion reality and expectation met.

And on occasion, Kaiser walked into the flat and found Elio at the kitchen table with glimmering paint up to his elbows, with swipes of color on every surface that a tiny child could reach (and some he couldn’t, which was too fiddly to process), with Cosmo’s tail stiff with paint, and with Candi LAUGHING like all this made sense.

On occasion, home was a harder job than his actual job.

“We’re art!”  Elio brandished his hands at his father, and Kaiser felt himself cower in the doorway.  Was it emotionally damaging to children if their father’s cowered from them? Maybe Kaiser would owl a child psychiatrist on his lunch break tomorrow.

“You’re making art?  I… I see that.”  He banished his work things and coat to the far side of the flat, wishing it was possible to banish them to another flat entirely.  And banish all the furniture, all the clothing, and the poor maligned tabby to said flat.  Maybe banish himself, while he was at it.  Could you banish yourself?

“No, we ARE art,” Candi corrected with a twinkle as she applied thick dark paint to her upper arm and dashed it with glitter.

“Why would you choose to be art when you could be not-art?”  Kaiser’s eyes went round as Elio pushed back from the table.  There was a reservoir of puddled paint where the boy had been sitting, but he was still coated in enough paint to be very dangerous.

“Daddy is art!”  Elio tromped across the kitchen floor, leaving a wake of glitter and destruction behind him, and Kaiser, in a moment of desperation and self-defense, scooped the child up by the back of his shirt and deposited him in the sink.

“I would prefer to be not-art.  Candi, have you considered sealing off the kitchen while you work?”  She just smiled and flicked glitter in his direction.

In the sink, Elio turned on the water, sending a fine spray of paint and glitter and water everywhere.  Kaiser’s once-white shirt had a rainbow spatter across the front.

“Kale, watch your sister.” Malachi Trent placed a large hand on the top of his son’s head, giving his blond hair a tousle before he stepped forward into the spotlight.  The pocket of darkness created by the curtain hid Kale and his younger sister from the audience, but Kale knew he had the best view in the house.

Second best view.  The best view would be on stage.

The audience roared louder as Malachi handed a bouquet of honking daffodils and roses to the star of the show, his wife and Kale’s mother.

“Kale, look at me,” he heard a pipping little voice from behind him.  Mavis.  Kale noped that request, his attention fully taken by Talia Trent on stage.  The costume.  The wig. The SPOTLIGHT.  Someone bringing you flowers and the world screaming your name. Who could want more than that?

“Kale.  Kale.  KALE.” He waved a hand at Mavis, because the crowd was falling quiet and Mum was revving up for an encore moment.  “KALE, LOOK AT ME.”

A naked three year barreled past him, out of the off-stage shadows and into the spotlight.  The crowd, waiting with tense breath for Talia to perform again, broke into raucous laughter and hollering as Mavis waved her bare bum at them.