Chapter 8 – Out of Step

“Should we speak to him?” Gloria asked, not doubting Jacky when she relayed the information from Maya back to her sister-in-law, having fetched her from the kitchen with a feeble excuse.

“I don’t know,” she said in frustration.

Her children were mischievous, that was certain. But they’d seen the scars on Jacky and Alfred’s bodies to know that abuse was never something to joke about or falsely accuse anyone of.

Gloria had come from a loving background herself, with parents who doted on her. However, despite working in the Cancer ward, she had seen her fair share of abuse victims, from child abuse to spouse abuse and elderly abuse. Suffering from cancer didn’t necessarily mean that her patients didn’t also suffer at the hands of those who were meant to love them.

Also, given that their fathers were both Vets, they had unfortunately seen their share of abused animal cases.

“Where’s Maya now?” Gloria questioned, playing with her wedding ring.

“I sent her to wash her face before going back in the kitchen,” Jacky said grimly. Maya was so upset, holding back her words for several hours, watching Harry carefully. Jacky wished she’d let Maya drag her off earlier. Her daughter was a tough little girl, but sensitive to people she cared about being hurt.

“Do you think it was Severus?” Gloria asked seriously.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her hands protective of her unborn baby. “Do you?”

“We can’t rule it out,” Gloria sighed. “And Harry doesn’t know us well enough to trust us with this.”

“We should have seen this,” Jacky said frustratedly.

“Everyone hides their hurts in different ways,” her sister-in-law said soothingly. “Harry presents himself as a happy child. He gets on easily with the others, he laughs, he jokes. He’s mature for his age. We’re not mind-readers, and Harry might be family, but like I said earlier, he wouldn’t trust this to virtual strangers after a few days worth of acquaintance.”

Jacky nodded reluctantly. Gloria made sense, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

“God help Severus if he’s the one hurting Harry,” Jacky vowed.

Gloria nodded in agreement.

“Should we speak to the others?”

Jacky thought hard about involving Nana and the others. Like Jacky, Alfred had quickly become fond of Harry. Despite his affable nature, Alfred wouldn’t think twice about accusing Severus of hurting Harry, given his apparent feelings for Severus.

ooOoo

Severus had a massive headache, courtesy of Iain Baker. The man wouldn’t shut up complaining. Good grief, the man could put Argus Filch to shame.

When he’d agreed to accompany Alfred (and Beth) down the road, he’d expected to be back within fifteen minutes. Half an hour, tops. Instead, he was coming back three hours later.

Nana and Bartholomew were in the Sitting room with Brian, Alexandra and Laurel, stroking their elderly rabbit, Marley, in front of the fire. Instead of admonishing them, Alfred gave them a look between amused and rueful. Despite half-hearted protests every year, the man was a soft touch and allowed the girls to sneak in their pet.

“Oh, hello,” Gloria greeted them, coming over to hug her husband. “We thought we heard the front door. You’re back earlier than expected.”

“Earlier than expected?” Severus repeated incredulously. “We were gone hours.”

“I stand by my words,” Gloria said with a shrug.

Severus frowned. Perhaps it was his imagination, but there seemed to be a chill to the woman’s words.

“Severus might have expedited the whole situation,” Alfred said with more amusement than warranted.

“Where’s Iain?” Gloria asked, looking around.

“He’s gone to use the bathroom.”

Gloria nodded and told them, “The turkey only came out a few minutes ago. It’ll be resting for another hour or so.”

“Smells beautiful,” Alfred said, sniffing the air.

“I tried to sneak in there for a taste,” Bartholomew said, “but my own children kicked me out.”

“We’re lucky Andrew allowed us to stay,” Gloria added with a faint smile, presumably referring to herself and Jacqueline.

“Andrew wouldn’t even let me in,” Brian said indignantly.

Alfred laughed, “Was that so you wouldn’t sneak any food, or is he taking after his aunt and doesn’t want anyone to mess up the kitchen?”

Brian grimaced, “Both, probably. Sandwiches are nice, but I’m starving and can’t wait to see what Andrew’s done with the turkey.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cuppa,” Alfred said, looking imploringly at his wife. “Severus?”

Severus nodded agreeably.

“Will you bring one out for Iain as well?”

“Bring one what?” Baker asked in a gruff voice, limping in as he leaned heavily on his cane. Severus had been tempted several times to kick the thing from under the curmudgeon.

“Tea, Iain?” Gloria asked, more pleasantly than the cantankerous old man warranted.

“Swill,” the old man grumbled. “Better add more sugar to disguise the taste.”

“That’s a yes, then,” Gloria concluded dryly.

“I’ll help you,” Alfred offered, following Gloria to the kitchen.

Before Severus could link off to his attic room to gather his wits and remaining patience, Nana patted the seat next to her.

“Come on, Severus,” she beckoned. “Here, you must be hungry. Have a sandwich.”

Reluctantly, he sat down even though all he wanted to do was retreat from Iain Baker.

“Yes, Nana,” he said.

“Yes, Nana,” Baker mocked, taking the lonely one-seater. He glared at the children, who shuffled away from the cane the man was carelessly tapping about.

“Hush, you,” Nana glared. “You’re a guest, Iain Baker. Behave.”

Baker glared at the woman in the wheelchair, eying it with vicious amusement.

“I heard you were on wheels,” he scoffed. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong with you. I just think you’re getting lazy.”

Brian, looking ready to defend his great-grandmother, reluctantly subsided at his father’s look of warning.

At times like this, he wished he didn’t have to be an adult.

ooOoo

“We didn’t expect you back for at least another two hours,” was how his sister greeted him when he entered the kitchen behind Gloria.

“You have Severus to thank for that,” Alfred commented with amusement.

The short drive to Iain’s house had been awkward despite Beth’s presence as a buffer. Severus, as usual, barely spoke two words.

He’d spent the first ten minutes upon entering Iain’s home hovering by the door, expecting the man to be ready.

They had found Iain still in his pyjamas, if they could be called that, sitting in his battered armchair. Alfred had expected that, having known Iain for almost twenty years. Severus, on the other hand, was surprised.

Iain’s house was bereft of all but the necessary furniture. He never entertained, so he didn’t have more than two armchairs. The other had been used by his late wife before her passing and then by Sam on the occasions the man travelled from Scotland.

Iain had been his usually crotchety self, dilly-dallying for the first half an hour before Severus lost patience and snapped at the man to get changed if he wanted to eat for Christmas. Had Alfred been alone, he would let Iain have his way and take his time, being used to the pensioner’s attitude. However, out of pity for Severus, who walked into an unexpected situation, and for Beth, who regretted volunteering to join her father, Alfred allowed Severus to take charge.

“Severus’s presence came in handy,” Alfred told them, reaching for the tea bag and sugar canisters.

“Pity, we wouldn’t have minded if you took longer bringing that old man back,” Andrew grumbled.

“Do you mean Iain or Severus?” Alfred teased.

“You could have dropped Uncle Severus off there,” Andrew suggested not-so-innocently. “We could have delivered Christmas dinner to them.”

Alfred shook his head but didn’t admonish his nephew.

He turned to look at Gloria and Jacky, who were exchanging looks between them.

“Everything all right?” he asked in a mild voice.

They smoothed their expressions and didn’t answer immediately.

“Just hungry,” Jacky muttered, stepping to the fridge for the milk.

Gloria shuffled around him to reach for the mugs as he went to the cupboard nearest the sink for a tray for the mugs.

“How’s it going in here?” Alfred asked, wondering at the strange behaviour.

Making an effort to brighten up, Gloria answered, “It’s all in hand. The turkey’s resting. The mash is done. The veggies are in the oven. Harry is reducing the gravy. Andrew’s making the cinnamon filling for the cinnamon rolls.”

Alfred felt his mouth fill with saliva.

“Cinnamon rolls? Really?” he said hopefully.

“Harry mixed the dough a few hours ago,” Jacky informed him. “It’s been lovely and toasty in here, so it’s risen nicely. Harry’s showing Maya how to make the frosting. He’ll be putting them in the oven soon. He’s got this timed down to the second. He’ll pull them out before we serve dinner, and by the time we finish eating, they’ll be cool enough to add the frosting.”

“Alfred, darling, you’re drooling,” Gloria laughed lightly.

“Can we adopt Harry?” Alfred joked.

“Yes, absolutely,” Jacky said instantly, her tone much less jocular than Alfred’s.

His wife and his wife exchanged another awkward look. He looked towards the kids, ensuring their attention was on their tasks.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Jacky said, much too fast.

More calmly, Gloria said, “Let’s not spoil dinner. It can keep until after.”

Alfred wanted to push the issue, but subsided at his wife’s warning glance.

“After,” he said firmly, hoping all was well but suspecting it wasn’t.

Laurel came barging in and moaned, “Is the food ready yet?”

“Almost, love,” Gloria said.

“Why can’t we have the pigs in blankets?” his daughter begged.

Allowing himself to be distracted, for now, Alfred asked, “We have pigs in blankets?”

Jacky rolled her eyes at his childishness.

“You’re having sandwiches,” she ordered, adding the sugar pot and teaspoons to the tray. “Now, take your tea and leave.”

“Isn’t this my house?” Alfred grumbled but complied without further teasing.

“Please tell me you’re taking Mr Baker back straight after dinner,” Laurel begged, already tired of their neighbour, not that Alfred could blame his daughter.

“Just be patient, darling,” he said assuringly, carefully balancing the tea tray. “He has no one else.”

Laurel grumbled but didn’t argue further though Alfred could tell she wasn’t happy. Though he could usually put up with Iain with no real offence, he decided if the old man said anything out of line today, he wouldn’t hesitate to take him back home. Neither his kids nor Jacky’s were disrespectful, as a rule, but they were very protective of each other. Though they knew what Iain was like, Alfred couldn’t blame them if they decided to mouth off if Iain said anything that would upset the little ones.

Despite the roaring fire, the atmosphere was decidedly chilly when Alfred re-entered the Sitting room. He looked to Barry, who shook his head in a Don’t Ask motion.

“Dinner won’t be long,” Alfred announced as he handed everyone their tea.

Iain huffed as he took his tea, glaring at Severus.

Severus took his cup with a muttered thanks, looking longingly at the stairs visible from his seat. Alfred was reminded of the children who looked desperate to escape.

“Where’s your brother?” Iain asked Brian. “Aren’t you two usually together?”

“He’s in the kitchen helping with Christmas dinner,” Brian answered without looking at the pensioner, sitting protectively near Lexi and Marley.

Iain looked incredulously between Alfred and Barry.

“What the heck is he doing in the kitchen?”

“Helping with Christmas dinner,” Severus repeated scathingly. “The boy’s just said. Are you hard of hearing?”

Iain blustered, unused to being answered back.

Alfred saw Brian duck his head to hide his amusement. They all knew Severus was just as brusque as Iain in his own way, but never spoke to the children like their neighbour did.

Barry hid his smile behind his mug.

“The boy shouldn’t be in the kitchen. The girls, on the other hand – the kitchen – that’s their place. Your girl – what’s her name – Maya,” he said, waving his mug in Barry’s direction. “I’ve seen her carousing with boys, climbing trees, and whatnot – pretending she’s equal to boys. She’ll come home crying with broken boys because she’s doing something she’s not, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. You want to teach her to dress pretty and cook a good meal. Where is she anyway? Roughhousing outside?”

“She’s in the kitchen,” Barry replied mildly, having heard the same rant several times and ignoring it as usual. “And there’s no harm in Maya climbing trees. She can do anything she wants to.”

Iain harrumphed, not looking pleased with not being agreed with.

“Still, your boy shouldn’t be in the kitchen. I thought he liked playing football. Now that’s a man’s sport.”

 “If a boy likes being in the kitchen, there’s nothing wrong with him developing his skills,” Severus defended.

Alfred imagined Severus was defending his son as well as Andrew. Certainly, Harry was the most skilled thirteen-year-old he’d ever seen when it came to cooking. Alfred and Jacky never cared to instill their children in what society considered traditional gender roles. Maya was football mad, just like her brothers, having grown up watching them play, and the boys never shunned her from playing just because she was a girl.

And, though none of Alfred’s girls was sports-mad like Jacky’s children, they also didn’t care about dressing pretty or learning to cook. Sarah was dedicated to her education, and the other three were too young to set themselves on any particular ambition. Alfred and Gloria would happily support whatever they wanted to do in life.

Iain was from an older, more narrow-minded generation where girls did girl things, and boys did boy things. It was not the type of thinking Alfred and Barry agreed with, but Iain was too set in his ways to change now.

Iain scoffed, “Should have known you would be the namby-pamby type. When’s the last time you cut your hair?”

Severus ignored Iain, in favour of drinking his tea.

“Let’s not spend today arguing,” Nana said firmly, though Alfred doubted Iain would listen.

Nana had been friends with Iain’s wife before her passing and always told them that Iain had been a different man back then, even if he held the same prejudices. She was much better at reigning the man in, and like Severus, took no guff from him.

“I suppose I should save my energy for chewing on that rubbery turkey,” Iain derided. “Hope Jacky’s made enough cranberry sauce to go around. It’ll be the only edible thing we’ll get today – no matter how good it smells right now.”

Unfortunately, no one could defend Jacky’s cooking – though no one disabused Iain of the change on cooks today. Let the man be surprised about an edible Christmas dinner – he’d got enough leftovers over the years that he should be grateful this year.

It didn’t occur to Alfred to doubt that the Christmas dinner wouldn’t be good, not given how well Harry cooked other meals over the last few days. And even if Harry’s turkey didn’t taste as good as it smelled, it couldn’t possibly be worse than Jacky’s and Gloria’s usual attempts.

To distract Iain, and everyone else, Nana suggested channel surfing to find a new Christmas film they could watch. At Nana’s warning glare, Iain subsided when he tried to argue about watching the news instead.

The next hour passed relatively peacefully unless one counted Iain getting up and loudly announcing his need to empty his bladder every ten minutes. No one could really enjoy watching the film. Therefore, they were all grateful when Gloria came to announce that dinner would be served in ten minutes and asked for help setting the table.

Alfred never saw the children volunteer for anything so speedily before. Gloria wheeled Nana away to help her wash up, having to keep up the pretence of it for a little longer. Severus disappeared upstairs to wash up as the children trotted into the kitchen to wash their hands and set up the dining table.

Alfred instructed the children to drop the plates and cutlery onto the dining table while he and Barry did the placements. Nana, upon her return, folded the napkins for each plate and, helped by an enthusiastic Lexi, handed out Christmas crackers to be added around the table.

Brian seemed to do most of the carrying to and fro from the kitchen, the others hiding for as long as they could. Iain simply got up from the Sitting room and plonked himself into a seat in the middle of the dining table. There would certainly be no fights over who got to sit next to Iain. He just knew he and Barry would end up sitting on each side of Iain, and the seats across from the man would be the last to be filled as well, as no one would want to look up from their dinner and have to stare at the grumpy old fart.

Nana took her usual seat at the head of the table, as it was easiest for her with her wheelchair.

“Go, sit,” they heard Gloria shooing someone, who turned out to be Jacky, looking fatigued after a long day on her feet.

“Come on, love,” Barry beckoned, drawing a chair for her. “Take the weight off your feet.”

“Thanks,” Jacky accepted gratefully, rubbing her calves. Barry planted a kiss on her head. No one missed Iain rolling his eyes at the display.

“How you doing, old codger?” Jacky greeted, catching Iain’s eye.

“Is that how you greet your guests?” Iain gruffed. “I’ve been here almost two hours, and you can’t come out of the kitchen to say hello?”

“I’ve been in the kitchen with dinner, Iain. You’ve got legs. What’s stopping you from coming to the kitchen and greeting us?”

Severus smirked as he entered, having heard Jacky’s words, happy that someone else spoke back to the old man.

“Alfred, Barry,” Gloria said as she stuck her head through the kitchen door, “can you come help carry the food.”

Alfred and Barry left Nana and Jacky to coordinate setting up the rest of the table and headed into the kitchen to do as Gloria instructed. Though the scent of the cooked food wafted through the kitchen door every time it opened and closed, the fresh aroma of Christmas dinner was even more pronounced. He’d noticed before, but now that the turkey had time to rest and he was more than ready to eat, the kitchen smelled heavenly.

“Wahey,” Barry cheered as his eyes landed on the two beautiful, perfectly-cooked, golden brown turkeys.

Because they were a large family, they usually made two turkeys so Jacky could take one home and use the rest to live on sandwiches for several – well, let’s just say it felt like months.

“If these taste as good as they look, Harry,” Barry said with a beaming smile, “I’ll work mighty hard to finish a whole turkey to myself.”

“Hey,” Andrew complained, “I helped make that, too.”

“Son, if it wasn’t for Harry, you’d have been out there watching Christmas films with us,” Barry said dryly, reaching for the first turkey.

“I still worked hard,” Andrew grumbled.

“And you’ve done a good job,” Barry acknowledged sincerely, bringing a broad smile to his son’s face.

Maya cleared her throat pointedly.

“All of you have,” Barry corrected.

Harry gave a small smile, looking pleased with the compliments as well.

“Now, let’s put all this food out on the table,” Gloria instructed, “or everyone will stampede in here.”

“Or we could barricade the door and help ourselves,” Barry joked.

“I dare you to say that to Mum,” Maya challenged.

“Let’s get this out there,” Barry reneged hastily, lifting the turkey carefully.

“Are we taking both out at once?” Alfred asked, going to reach for the other.

“Yeah,” Gloria said with a nod, “we’ll set one at either end like we usually do.”

Within minutes, the dining table was groaning with food like never before. Maya insisted Harry sit next to her, and Lexi was on his other side. Severus, as always, monopolised the seat next to Nana.

“Who are you?” Iain demanded, looking at Harry with a frown.

“This is Harry – he’s Severus’s boy,” Nana informed him.

“Ah – the ones whose mother’s a bitch,” Iain said knowingly.

Everyone froze.

Severus looked furiously at all of them. Alfred shook his head, wanting to bury his face somewhere. Severus had every right to be angry. However, it was Harry he was most concerned about. Whatever was going on between Severus and his ex – Harry was already in the middle of because he was their child – but that didn’t mean Claudia didn’t care about her son.

“My mum’s not a – she’s not that,” Harry fumed, and Alfred couldn’t well blame. “You take that back!”

Iain looked like he was going to be stubborn about this.

“Iain, whatever you’ve heard about Harry’s mother is hearsay,” Nana said in even tones, though her disappointment was clear to them. “Furthermore, you’re here as our guest, invited as part of our goodwill and have no right to comment on family matters. You apologise to Harry and Severus about that crass comment right now, as well as your language, or you can march back home in the snow without your Christmas dinner.”

There was a silence before Iain gruffly said, “I apologise, lad.”

“Severus?” Nana prompted.

“Forgiven,” Severus replied stiffly, though the look he pinned Alfred with made him aware that the discussion was far from over.

“Harry,” Nana urged, much more gently.

Harry stared at Iain for a little longer but subsided after Maya put her hand on his wrist. He nodded, looking away from Iain, staring down at his plate.

“Turkey looks a little overdone, doesn’t it?” Iain started complaining straight away, though his words lacked the earlier heat.

“Then feel free not to add any to your plate, Iain,” Jacky said archly, no doubt feeling guilty about contributing to the current atmosphere. Though none of them had a high opinion of Claudia, Jacky was the most vocal about calling her names to the others.

“Shall we start?” Alfred said.

“Let’s,” Nana announced with a smile. “The turkey smelled wonderful.”

“Forget the turkey,” Brian said, his cheer forced. “I want those pigs in a blanket.”

Equally strained, Sarah answered, “Don’t eat them all by yourself – I want some too.”

Bless the children for trying to get that easy atmosphere back.

“Don’t carve them both,” Gloria said, even though they start with one every year.

Despite their complaining about Jacky’s dry turkey, they do try to eat a fair lot in one sitting – at least to minimise the amount of leftovers.

The conversation revolved around passing the food to each other in the most subdued atmosphere Alfred had ever experienced with his family.

Alfred blamed himself for not warning of Harry’s presence. It was not because Harry was easily forgotten, but more that they were so comfortable with Harry that mentioning he was visiting wasn’t necessary. They’d all come to think well of Harry in the short time they knew him.

However, where the others might be able to brush off Iain’s harsh words, being well used to it, Harry was new to Iain’s attitude, and his disquiet affected all the occupants of the table in one way or another.

“Oh,” Brian groaned, “Oh my god – this turkey is amazing.”

He made to shovel more in his mouth, but Jacky admonished him, “Eat in a civilised manner, please. Don’t scoff it like an animal.”

Brian slowed down, barely.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever enjoyed sprouts,” Gloria moaned, chewing with great enjoyment.

“Nah,” Sarah said. “No offence, Harry. You’re amazing in the kitchen, but even you’ve not got enough magic to make sprouts taste good.”

Harry gave a polite smile, not really responding to the banter as he usually would. Harry was mature for a boy his age, and though quietest of all the children, spent most of the meal looking down at his plate, more silent than usual.

It saddened Alfred to see the boy so subdued. Everyone seemed to pick up on it and made an effort to include the boy in conversation. Though he remained courteous, it only made the boy seem more withdrawn. If Alfred didn’t see Iain look at the boy with a little bit of shame and regret, he would have been tempted to throw the old man out for ruining what should have otherwise been a friendly, family meal full of laughter. At least Iain seemed to have regretted the effect of his words. It was not something that happened often.

If anything, the only one not concerned about Harry’s troubled demeanour was Severus, who didn’t seem to even care his son was upset.

It was the best Christmas dinner they’d had since Nana stopped cooking due to her age, and the bones of one turkey carcass were gnawed clean, and they’d even gotten started on the second. This time they’d be fighting over the leftovers and regret that they didn’t last longer.

“Oh, I could just drink that gravy by itself,” Barry sighed, looking at it longingly. “It was beautiful.”

“We still have cinnamon buns and sherry trifle to get through,” Jacky reminded them, sitting back from the table in satisfaction, cradling her belly. Alfred thought she was cradling her food baby rather than her unborn child.

“I’m stuffed,” Nana announced, “but there’s always room for dessert.”

“Well, it’s a medical fact; there’s a separate stomach for dessert,” Gloria said impishly. “Trust me, I’m a nurse.”

“Is there any way we can make dessert walk over to us?” Sarah groaned.

“Or have the dishes appear in the sink and wash themselves,” Gloria lamented.

“Well, anyone who wasn’t in the kitchen cooking is on dishwashing duty,” Jacky said firmly.

Brian groaned, “I hate washing dishes.”

“I’m glad I helped with cranberry sauce,” Sarah said in relief. Then, more worriedly added, “That counts, right?”

Gloria reached over to pat her daughter’s hand assuringly, “It does, love.”

“Do we have to move right now?” Alfred asked, feeling ready to fall into a food coma.

“Best get started,” Barry advised, but no one moved a muscle.

“I’ll help,” Harry announced into the silence and got up to begin stacking the plates of everyone in reach.

“Sit down, Harry,” Gloria said lazily. “The lads will take care of it.”

However, Harry continued to stack the plates, ignoring Gloria’s words with an almost dismissive, “It’s fine. May as well get started.”

“Harry,” Andrew protested, then looked at the adults helplessly.

“Harry’s right,” Alfred said with false brightness. “The dishes aren’t going to do themselves. And we’ll take dessert in the Sitting room in front of the fire and the tree.”

He forced himself to move.

Harry silently took his stack of plates to the kitchen without looking at anyone.

Alfred had to be quite forceful in sending Harry from the kitchen, “It’s okay, Harry. You helped with the cooking. It’s a rule here, remember? Whoever cooked doesn’t have to wash up. You go put your feet up.”

Harry nodded without looking at any of them and slinked off towards the den instead of the Sitting room.

“I hadn’t meant to upset the lad,” Iain said gruffly, though Alfred detected his regret.

Unwilling to let him off the hook, Jacky piped up, “You walk around riling people up, Iain. We might be used to you, but you had no right to comment on Harry’s mother.”

“And you should have been careful about describing her to outsiders,” Severus snapped back, having entered the kitchen with his own stack of dirty plates. “Everything I told you about Claudia was in confidence. Not for you to flaunt to all and sundry.”

Jacky couldn’t deny this accusation and looked away shamefaced.

“We’re very sorry about that, Severus,” Alfred intervened, hoping to calm matters. Alfred and Jacky couldn’t deny they’d been indiscreet about Severus’s private life, and their cousin had every right to be angry. However, he was more concerned about Harry, who shouldn’t hear language like that about his mother, who he clearly adored, regardless of her issues with Severus. “But we can talk about this later. Harry was upset. Maybe you should go see if he’s all right. He barely ate.”

“The boy’ll be fine,” Severus said dismissively. “It’s just one meal. He’ll get over it.”

Alfred and Jacky exchanged incredulous looks. Iain looked confused but stayed out of the conversation by leaving the kitchen. Iain Baker was a lot of things, but mercifully, being a busybody wasn’t one of those.

“Harry needs you,” Alfred said more forcefully. “Couldn’t you see how upset he was?”

“The boy will get over it,” Severus said stiffly.

“His name is Harry,” Jacky interjected before Alfred could rebuke his cousin for this same thing. “Considering he’s your son, you’d think you’d use his name a little more.”

Severus flushed at the reminder.

“You need not worry about Harry,” Severus said with maddening emphasis. “Harry is throwing a meaningless strop and trying to keep everyone’s attention on himself. The more you indulge him, the bigger his ego gets.”

“If that’s what you think, Severus,” Alfred said evenly, “then you don’t know your son at all. And what’s more, I’m beginning to believe Claudia did right by keeping you away from Harry if this is the kind of father you’ve turned out to be.”

Severus flinched at his words but furiously seemed to set to argue right back. Whatever Severus intended to say next was interrupted by a shriek of “No!” followed by a dull thud.

Argument forgotten, they exchange alarmed looks before rushing towards the source of the noise. It came from the den.

Severus was first out of the door with Alfred and Jacky on his heels. Barry and the others were closer as they were still in the Dining room, but Severus pushed his way through them all.

“What happened?” Severus demanded as he entered the den first.

Alfred was allowed through next as Barry urged the children through to the Sitting room, picking up Lexi, who looked upset and confused at the current happenings.

“I don – Mr Baker came to – he apologised,” Harry answered shakily.

Alfred took in the situation as he entered behind Severus. Harry was protectively coddling Maya, while alternating his bewildered gaze from her to Iain, who was lying on the floor, looking dazed as he struggled to get up.

“Iain,” Alfred gasped as he rushed to the old man’s side. He helped Iain to a sitting position, pulling his hand away from his head. He had a small lump, though thankfully, no broken skin. “Come on, mate. Let’s get you up. Did you trip?”

“Must have done,” Iain groaned, holding his head.

Alfred took in the state of the den. Iain seemed to have collided with the bookshelf when he tripped.

Severus, meanwhile, continued to glare at Harry as if the boy was somehow at fault.

Gloria stepped forward, gently taking Iain’s other arm and leading him away to take a look at him.

“I need to speak to Harry,” Severus said, crossing his arms imperiously across his chest.

Seeing Maya wouldn’t leave Harry’s side, continuing to cling to him, Jacky said, “Maybe later.”

“You were the one who insisted I speak to my son,” Severus pointed out.

Stubbornly, Jacky came to stand between the children and Severus. Alfred recognised this move from their childhood when he and Jacky would protect each other from their father after a particularly brutal beating. Trusting his sister, who he’d gone through hell with, over an absent cousin, Alfred stood by her side.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Jacky said defiantly.

“Hurt him?” Severus repeated with confusion. Then, glaring over their shoulder at Harry once more, he snarls, “What have you been telling them?”

The words, the tone – they were familiar once again. It was something their father, Zachary, used to yell at them behind closed doors if he suspected they told someone about their abuse.

Having had enough, Alfred stepped towards Severus and physically pushed him toward the door.

“He’s not hurt me,” Harry denied from behind them, but Alfred was not listening – having issued such denials himself.

Alfred had to manhandle Severus out of the den and into the Sitting room, quite intent on kicking his cousin out, no matter that it was Christmas Day, no matter if Nana protested. He would protect his family, whatever it took and right now that included Harry.

Before he could say anything to lay into Severus, they were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

Everyone froze, looking at each other in varying expressions of confusion. Who would be visiting them on Christmas Day?

ooOoo

Forcefully releasing Alfred’s fist from his shirt, Severus took a step back, along with a deep breath. He was well past the stage of endurance. He was more than ready to leave.

Now there was a knock on the door, probably from the Ministry because Potter used underage magic in a muggle house, nevermind that the boy had a special dispensation because of Black and had been using his wand all week to clean up because he was too lazy to clean the muggle way.

And now he’d turned on his crocodile tears and probably made his family believe he was being beaten or something equally ridiculous.

All he needed was a few minutes alone with Potter to determine what absurd tales he’d been telling his muggle family and get a handle on everything. Perhaps he could use their indiscretion at telling Baker about his fictional ex as a reason to leave.

With a last glare at him, Alfred headed towards the front door to check on their unexpected visitor. Severus arranged his expression to something neutral. Really, now that he’s thinking about it, he shouldn’t have argued with Alfred and Jacky about checking up on Potter. He should have gone to Potter when they’d mentioned the boy was upset, and he could have used that as an excuse to leave Marple behind. Perhaps there’s still time for that, he thought furiously to himself.

Once Alfred returned from telling his unexpected caller to get lost, he could try to iron out the misunderstandings, get Potter to pack his belongings while Severus packed his suitcase in the attic, and they would leave.

What with it being Christmas Day today and Boxing Day tomorrow, there’d be no trains on – which is how his family believed he and Potter arrived. They might have to wait until after Boxing Day. Usually, he’d book a taxi to pick him up from Alfred’s home on Christmas Day – plenty of people didn’t celebrate the holiday and used the day to make extra cash. He didn’t even mind the long drive from Marple to Liverpool, as the roads were quiet; it didn’t even take that long. However, he’d not done that this year, expecting to be here until after New Year’s Day.

“Who do you think it is?” Sarah asked, looking around the room as they strained to hear what Alfred was saying to the person at the door.

Severus tried to listen, but all he could discern was that it was a female voice.

“I don’t know,” Gloria answered with a puzzled look. She’d finished tending to Baker’s head. He had a small bruise, but he looked all right, considering. The man didn’t know how lucky he was that he wasn’t inflated like a balloon and floating off into the ether.

Whoever was at the door was probably from the Ministry, come to fix whatever damage they thought Potter had done, perhaps even to erase some memories. Poor Alfred was probably confused. He should go take control of the situation and smooth things over. Let the Ministry know that there was already a competent wizard in the house.

However, before he could take a step, Nana wheeled her chair forward and levelled him with a look, “Sit down, Severus. Everyone, take a seat. Maya, Harry – come sit near me. I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to sort this out like calm people.”

Severus scowled but acquiesced, sitting on the sofa next to Baker to his consternation

Potter and Maya, who refused to let go of the boy’s arm for some bizarre reason, that Severus could even the boy was bewildered by.

“Perhaps Severus could shed some light on this,” they heard Alfred say. “Why don’t you come in?”

They heard the front door close, and the chill Severus hadn’t paid attention to receded slightly. The fire would take a while to warm up the room again, but it wasn’t unbearable.

“Everyone,” Alfred said, getting everyone’s attention, “this is Claudia. And her husband, Luke.”

“Hello, Severus,” she greeted him with a smile. “I apologise for dropping by on your family gathering unannounced. I simply missed Harry. So much.”

Severus stood up again, shocked, as Alfred walked back into the Sitting room with the last people he’d expected to see.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.