The BMB Universe - By Alie & Vixx

Spring 2011

2008-06-26T18:42:33Z

Mourning Kettles

Where there is reluctant adjusting, an admirable ear, and a broken window.

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"I said I'm not doing dishes and I'm not gonna do dishes!" Oliver hollered loudly, feeling rather cornered as he stood with hackles raised in the kitchen, Sirius facing him and standing square in the middle of the entrance to the kitchen looking firm. Like he had any right to be firm. Oliver was so sick of people pretending they cared. "And don't give me shit about how this family all helps out. I'm not your family, so get that through your head, all right? You're fags, you can't even have kids!"

Sirius took a deep breath.

"Oliver. This is your home now," he said for what felt like the millionth time in the last few months since the adoption had been made official. Before that Oliver had been sulky and had spent more time hiding, not attempting to make so much as friends with he or Remus. Despite his reluctance to adapt to Sirius and Remus' life, they'd both seen something in him; potential, a desperate need of a stable home life, and of love and attention. "We love you, and we expect you to do your share. I'm not being unfair, here."

"You love me?" Oliver replied incredulously, taking a confrontational step forward. "You think you love me? You don't... you don't even know me! What are you, fucking stupid? Get away from me."

"No," Sirius replied smoothly, stepping forward himself.

"Get out of my fucking face!" Oliver shouted, hands balled at his side. He took a breath and tilted his chin up to try and show he wasn't scared of Sirius. "I don't care if you think you love me or not, because I hate you anyway."

"No you don't," Sirius said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'll get in as much of your 'fucking' face as I like."

"Shut up and stop looking at me like that! You don't know me! You don't know shit about me!" Oliver yelled. He grabbed the nearest thing--which happened to be the half full cold kitchen kettle--and spun as he lobbed it as hard as he could at the big living room window nearest the kitchen. It shattered and glass fell everywhere. The noise was gratifying to Oli and he turned back to Sirius with a sneer, snarling, "Fetch, and leave me alone."

Sirius blinked incredulously at the window and then looked at Oliver. His voice raised slightly he said, "Is that how you treat people, Oliver? You throw their things and break their windows and scream and yell at them? That's not how the world works. Count yourself lucky you are where you are, kid. I know all about you. My father used to beat the shit out of me on a weekly basis for something as simple as losing a button off of my coat." Sirius could see that this was just another in a long line of tests to see if he and Remus wouldn't just write him off the same as every other adult in his young life.

"You're not going anywhere. You're going to pay for that window out of your allowance."

Oliver stared at him for a moment, brain spinning with anger. "So that's it, huh? Boo hoo, you know what it's like to have a crap family. You're lucky your dad stopped at beating the shit out of you. You're lucky he--" He choked up then, and trailed off, turning his back on Sirius and taking some deep breaths as the tears came to his eyes. He scrubbed them away so fast and so hard it hurt, so hard he hoped it left him bruised, but the tears kept coming. "You don't know anything."

Sirius bent so he was bending at the knees and balancing on his heels. "Oliver, we want to give you love and a good, happy life. But you've got to let us, son."

"Fuck off," Oliver said, keeping his back to Sirius and still rubbing at his eyes, now trying not to sniffle as well. He was only nine, but he hated feeling out of control and he hated crying and he felt vulnerable and prickly and he wanted to be left alone. "I don't have to let you do nothin'."

"No. But I would hope you'd want to let us, Oliver," Sirius said kindly, voice still firm. "You have to trust us. We're not sending you back. You're here for keeps, I promise."

"Fuck off, you fag!" Oliver screamed, turning around and shoving Sirius. He hated this. People didn't love him, or if they did, they only did until it got hard and then they left him alone for two weeks when he was only six and he had to cook for himself, or when he was seven and his father committed the ultimate betrayal. He'd had a family, a real family, and even they didn't keep on loving him. How could two guys who'd only met him a few months ago think they loved him? How could they expect him to believe that when it was obviously bollocks?

Sirius toppled back onto his arse. "What would you rather, Oliver?" he asked calmly, masking his complete and utter frustration with the boy and desperately wishing that Remus would come home. "Would you like me to lie to you and say mean and hateful things? Call you names? Make you uncomfortable and sad, and to make you feel worthless in your own home?"

"This isn't my home!" Oli replied, his young voice distraught as he dropped to sit in the corner, hiding his face in his arms. His next soft words were muffled both by his arms and by sobs that shook his shoulders even as he tried to stifle them, but they were still audible as he said, "And at least I'm used to that."

"This is your home, Oliver," Sirius reaffirmed desperately, clamouring on his knees and shuffling over to Oliver. "We don't want to hurt you, or make you feel bad. We want to love you and make you happy."

"Just leave me alone," Oliver pleaded through another sob, leaning away from Sirius as he felt him moving closer.

"No," Sirius insisted.

Oli kicked out with one leg in the general direction of where Sirius was without looking up and cried, "Go away!"

"No!" Sirius said forcefully, and reached forward, pulling Oliver into a tight hug.

"Let me go," Oliver said, writhing in Sirius' grasp. The tears bubbled up more rapidly and Oliver just wanted to run for it. "Get off!"

Sirius held onto Oliver for dear life. "I love you, Oliver," he insisted.

"Don't... don't!" Oli sobbed, still struggling against Sirius. It had been years since anyone but a doctor had touched him in a gentle way, and he didn't trust it. "Lemme g-go!"

"No. I'm not letting go," Sirius said, shifting slightly so he could tighten his grip. "I love you." he repeated.

"Get off," Oliver said again, but the struggling had relaxed and the angry hands that had been trying to push Sirius away now only put a half-hearted pressure on Sirius' shoulders. The anger too had left his voice as he protested, "No one loves me."

"I love you. And Remus loves you. And if you let them, Uncle James and Aunt Lily will love you, and Harry, and little Madeline," Sirius said. "And your Grandmother and Grandfather Lupin. And everyone will. I promise, Oliver. There's lots and lots of love here for you."

Oliver stopped fighting altogether then and pressed his face into Sirius' chest. "What did your dad do to you? I-I-I... Meghan said I should talk about it with you. I don't want to. She just said."

"He did what my mother told him to do," Sirius explained quietly. "She wanted me and my brother to be afraid of them, and to do exactly what she wanted us to do. She wasn't a very good mom."

"My mom wasn't a good mom either," Oliver said nervously. He didn't like talking about himself, but he'd never met anyone whose parents had actually hurt them too. His voice dropped to a whisper as he added, "My dad was the worst though."

"Dad's can be, when they take advantage of being bigger then their kids," Sirius reflected. "You know, Oliver, I can't promise that I'm going to be the greatest dad in the world. But I'll really try."

"Why do you like me?" Oliver ask, feeling about half of his nine years old, and he squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to see himself acting so pathetic. He'd been taking care of himself since before he was even old enough to do it, because he'd always had to. "No one ever has."

"You're a good, wonderful boy, Oliver," Sirius said. "You're smart, and you have the potential to do something great with your life.

"I just threw the kettle through the window. Again," Oliver reminded him with a familiar, deviant tilt to his chin as he looked up at Sirius and managed a weak smirk.

"Well even smart people do bad things," Sirius said, smiling slightly. "I set my mother's porch railing on fire... six times? Don't get any ideas."

"Will you like me anyway even if I keep doing bad things?" Oliver asked, cheeks pinking as he asked for reassurance.

"Yes," Sirius insisted. "It's unconditional. Not matter what you do, I'm still going to love you. And so is Remus."

Just then, Remus stepped through the door, eyes somewhat wide as he held the broken remnants of the kettle in his hands. "What happened here? Goodness, another window bites the dust." He paused then as he saw Oliver scramble away from Sirius on the floor and wipe his face. Remus smiled and set the kettle down on the counter. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, nothing. Just a manly conversation about football, motorbikes and medium rare steak," Sirius said, climbing to his feet and giving Remus a look he hope conveyed I think I did something right.

Remus smiled brightly at Sirius, and then turned to Oliver. "I'll let the kettle slide for now as long as you don't tell me you want a motorbike too, Oliver. One in the family causes enough stress, even if you have a few years to go before you can drive."

"I won't tell you then," Oliver said, and made a good show of being cocky despite his red eyes. "But maybe I'll tell Sirius later. After I finish the dishes, I guess."

"I should probably go pick up a plate of glass and make James help me fix the window," Sirius said, thoughtfully, treading over the flecks of glass to inspect the hole.

"Or you could hire someone to do it like a normal person," Remus suggested wryly, leaning in to kiss Sirius on the cheek. Lingering close, he whispered, "Everything okay?"

"I'm not stupid. I know you're asking him about what happened and not just admiring his ear from close up," Oliver piped up. "I freaked out and Sirius... fixed it, I guess."

Sirius held back a laugh, and cleared his throat instead. "James and I are perfectly capable of fixing the window and saving the extra money it would cost to hire some jackass to do it for us. I mean. Some guy to do it. Pardon my French."

"Language," Remus said anyway, and then grinned. "But you're right. Why pay for one guy when you can have two for free?"

Oliver rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Hey, so since I'm staying, can I have a dog? I always wanted one, but I was never allowed."

Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus' joke and still looking at him said to Oliver, "Are you going to train it and walk it and feed it and play with it everyday? Or is it going to be some novelty that wears off after a while and that falls back on your father and I?"

Oliver shrugged like he didn't care because it was more manly not to care, but he really wanted a dog. Dogs didn't judge like people did. They were a man's best friend, everyone said so. He thought he could talk to a dog because it wouldn't talk back. It wouldn't even understand, and Oliver could just have a simple friend he could get stuff out of his head with. "I don't know. I've never had one, how do I know if it's a novelty or whatever? But if it was mine, I'd never abandon it."

It broke Remus' heart, how fierce that last sentence was. A nine year old child should never know what abandonment felt like; he should never be scared of love. Nine year olds should still be completely innocent. Remus wanted to give him a dog too, and he was sure Sirius would love it. Sirius had wanted a dog too, and had never gotten one. "Sirius and I will have to talk about it."

"Mm hm. And dishes in the meantime. Moony, do you know where my measuring tape is?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Oliver grumbled and headed reluctantly towards the sink.

"Probably wherever you left it after you measured the big front window after our last kettle met a similar untimely end," Remus teased in response. "Oh, no. That would be the middle of the living room floor. Perhaps someone cleaned up after you."

"And where did that someone put my measuring tape?" Sirius questioned, grinning.

"Who knows. Perhaps in the hall closet with the rest of your fix it supplies," Remus replied with a smile. "Or maybe he put it somewhere less obvious so you'd think to pick up after yourself in the future."

"I think I'll go check in the hall closet," Sirius said, amused, and made a mental note to be more conscious of what he left lying around. "And if all else fails, under the sink in the downstairs loo. Is James working today?"

"If by 'working', you mean researching your next target for when you play at being guerrilla internet exposé artists, how should I know? Call him and ask," Remus said with a shrug. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Something with mashed potatoes," Sirius answered as he wandered into the hallway in the direction of the closet, grabbing the cordless phone of the charger as he passed it. "And peas!"

Chapter Seven <-- Chapter Eight --> Chapter Nine

Summer 2022

2008-06-05T17:22:26Z

Boyishness

Where there is talk of ugly people, boozing, and the cooing of mums.

*** Um. I'm pokey and I forget to do things. For uh. Months at a time.

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"Do you think one suit will be enough? Well, but how will I know if it's a black suit occasion or a grey pinstriped suit occasion. I'd best bring both. Father says I'll have to wash my own clothes while I'm there. How tedious is that, Harry? I hope whoever I end up with as a roommate doesn't have very many clothes. I shall have to use part of his wardrobe, I expect. I highly doubt they'll provide us with adequate hanging space. I hope whoever I'm sharing with isn't abominable. If he is, you'll bully him into switching, won't you Harry?" Draco rambled as he lay on his bed, head hanging down over the edge, surveying his closet upside down.

Harry had come over to help him pack, but as of yet, they'd done minimal packing. In fact, they hadn't really done anything but sit around, eat fresh fruit, and have a very one-sided conversation about the move next month to school.

"You've been to school before. Is it terrible? Are all of the other students completely stupid? Well, of course they are. You went to public school. East Portlemouth Prep will be much better, I'm sure. Though religion is so tedious. I fear I shall be so incredibly superior in intelligence that I will scare even the professors. What do you think, Harry?"

"I think you talk to much," Harry answered, spinning around in Draco's computer chair. "But I've told you that before. And you'll have to suck it up with your roommate, mate. Dad called in a favour to the headmaster so that Ron and I could have his and Uncle Sirius' old room. Right at the top, too. How wicked is that?"

"Your father hates me," Draco sighed. "I'm sure he does. I'd better be at the top as well. I don't know how I'll stand it if I'm not. I'm sure Father has called in his own favours to ensure it. He used to teach there, you know, until he had to quit because of Mother. It was all terribly romantic. I hope whoever I'm sharing with is attractive. You know how I dislike ugly people. Like Ronald. I don't know how you tolerate him. He's totally barbaric."

"Dad doesn't hate you, he just wishes I'd hit you more growing up so that you wouldn't be a pansy," Harry said frankly, stopping his chair and blinking around dizzily. "And what difference does it make how good-looking someone is?"

"I don't know. I'm just talking. I talk too much," Draco said, feeling suddenly insecure. "And I'm glad you didn't hit me. Do you think people will want to? At school, I mean. Because I talk too much and I'm a pansy?"

"If they hit you I'll beat the shit out of them," Harry answered idly, and having regained his bearings, started to spin again.

Draco smiled, feeling much better, and rolled over to lay on his side instead of his back, propping himself up on one arm and smiling at Harry. "You shouldn't have told me that. Now I shall wield you like Thor's hammer and use you to crush all my enemies."

"I don't know whether to be complimented that you compared me to Thor's hammer, or insulted that you're going to use me," Harry said, stopping himself from spinning again, and pushing his glasses up his nose.

"You should always feel complimented every moment you're in my company," Draco said idly. "I am a fantastic person and that I deign you worth my time is an honour. You should be flattered."

"But you're not vain at all," Harry replied, hopping to his feet and going over to poke the glass surrounding Draco's pet snake. "Maybe you should consider it an honour to be in my company, because not many people have enough patience to listen to you talk."

"Leave Aesculapius alone. She was sleeping," Draco said, frowning as Harry flicked the glass surrounding his small, pure white blizzard corn snake. "I don't come and tap on your window while you're asleep just so I can watch you move about, now do I?"

"Well I'm more interesting than Aessie," Harry said, annoyed, and kept tapping anyway. "And she sleeps all the time."

"You are not. You're boring. That's why she sleeps when you're here," Draco replied, and got up, shooing Harry away from the cage so he could open it, scooping her up onto his hand. "And don't call her Aessie. Her name is Aesculapius."

"I'm too lazy to say that, I told you before," Harry said, flopping back onto the now empty bed.

Draco moved and perched on the edge of the mattress, smiling as Aesculapius curled herself around his wrist. Looking down at Harry, Draco poked him in the side, hard, for daring to be bored in Draco's presence. "Mother and Father went dancing. They probably won't be back until at least two. It's only seven now."

Harry perked up slightly. "And...?"

"That gives us seven whole hours to get drunk," Draco suggested. "If you want. I can make the maid help me pack tomorrow."

Harry grinned. "See, now, this is the side of you that Ron doesn't believe exists," he said. "The side that knows how to have a good time. Lead the way!"

"That's because I like to torture Ronald," Draco said idly as he got up and walked from the room. "I like to make sure he has as little fun as possible any time he's in my presence."

"Why, though?" Harry asked, hopping up and following Draco out the door. "He's a good sort of bloke, you know. You'd like him if you gave him a chance."

"I would not. He's beneath me," Draco replied, voice clipped. He disliked Ronald Weasley on principle. Mostly because he took up so much of Harry's time and energy and friendship, as though the last, like the others, also existed in limited supply. "What kind of alcohol would you like? Sebastien brought some very good champagne when he was here last. There are still a couple bottles."

"Champagne?" Harry questioned, screwing up his face. "Dad says that you should only drink champagne at weddings. Be a real boy, Draco. Drink beer."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "No thank you. And we don't have any beer anyway. If you don't fancy champagne, there's brandy and scotch in Father's study, or Baileys in the coffee cupboard in the kitchen."

"What is it about having money that makes people not drink normal things?" Harry asked. "And I'll drink scotch, then."

"It's called taste," Draco replied, and walked up the hall to the study, lifting out one of his father's crystal decanters and bringing it back into the kitchen. "Here you go. And I'll have a whole bottle of champagne to myself then."

"Are you saying that I don't have any taste?" Harry asked, taking the stopper off of the decanter and then taking a swig.

Draco froze, staring at Harry in horror. "That is exactly what I am saying. You do not drink straight from crystal decanters, you daft freak. Let me get you a glass. Honestly. What are you thinking. Do you want ice?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, grinning. "Dad always says that you're too fancy with manners and things. He about pissed himself laughing when I told him you apologized after I fell off of the garage roof that time, remember, when you'd thought you'd pushed me? He said that he pushed Uncle Sirius down the stairs once and broke his leg, and then punched him while he was healing because Nana was sneaking him chocolate cake to make him feel better."

"Well your father was a miscreant and a menace to his friends and the general public alike. Probably still is," Draco said as soon as he'd returned from the kitchen, a bottle of champagne and a champagne glass in one hand, and a glass with ice in the other. "There. You only really pour enough in to cover the ice. If you put too much, you won't drink it fast enough and the ice will melt and your drink will be watery."

With that, Draco set his champagne flute on the counter and set about struggling to open the bottle.

Harry rolled his eyes and took the bottle from Draco, pulling the cork out in one go. "Yeah, well, your mum seduced her sexual education teacher and then got pregnant on purpose," Harry countered, handing the bottle back. "Least my mum got knocked up by accident."

"Oh, yes, and I suppose that's a positive thing to you, is it? 'You were planned, but I'm an accident. Everyone loves surprises best!'" Draco sneered, taking the bottle and pouring himself a glass. "Don't make me laugh."

"Blah blah blah," Harry said. "Maddy does that, you know. Ever since she figured out that I was born a week after mum and dad got married, she's been rubbing it in my face that she was planned. What a stupid thing to brag about."

"Please don't compare me to your sister," Draco said, pained. "I am not a nine year old girl, thank you, and I am not a Potter."

"Hey now, what's wrong with being a Potter?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. I simply find the idea of being anything but a Malfoy utterly detestable," Draco answered loftily, picking up his glass and his bottle, taking a sip from the former and then topping up his glass with the latter. "Come on, let's sit in the drawing room."

"Which room is that again?" Harry asked, grabbing his own class, and the decanter. "You've got so many bloody rooms; it's hard to keep track."

"The one with the couches and the piano and the television, and not the one with all the windows and the tea table. That one is the sun room," Draco said, walking from the kitchen, through the entryway, into the sun room, and then through the large, open arch and down the two stairs into the drawing room. "I believe it's also called by the names 'sitting room' and 'living room' and other such things, but I prefer drawing room."

"Oh. We call it the living room," Harry said. "And Dad has a den. But that's really all that's downstairs besides the kitchen, the washroom and the laundry room. Much easier to navigate."

"Well, we have all that, though I'd never refer to father's study as a den, as well as a dining room, the sun room, and two spare bedrooms, each with their own en suite. It's not that completely different," Draco said. "Just bigger than yours. And nicer. And more expensive. And much better decorated."

"Show off, much?" Harry asked, sitting on the couch, draining his glass and then pouring himself another. "We can't all come from old money. And Mum and Uncle Remus did a nice paint job on the kitchen, you said so yourself."

"You know I love your house," Draco said, sitting next to him with one leg crossed over the other at the knee, setting the bottle of champagne on the side table. "It's so comfortable. Even if your father hates me. I just like my house better."

"Dad doesn't hate you, for Christ's sake," Harry said, exasperated. "Why do you think that he hates you?"

Draco took another large swallow of champagne and then smiled brightly at Harry. "He's afraid I'll turn you gay, of course. I don't blame him. I am outstandingly handsome. It's a valid fear."

Harry snorted, and then half-choked on his mouthful of scotch. "Afraid you'll turn me gay?" he questioned, pounding his chest to make his lungs work properly again. "Right, first off, you've met Remus and Sirius, right? You know Dad helped them get together, sort of, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter, Harry. He could be head of PFLAG and he'd probably still want his only son to grow up happy and have kids and be successful, at least in some little way," Draco said. "I'm sure he'd be supportive if it turned out you were, but there's got to be that part of him that wants you to be just like him."

"Doesn't mean he's daft enough to think you could turn me gay," Harry said, frowning. He'd never really considered what his dad might say if he was gay, but supposed it didn't really matter, because he wasn't. Least he didn't think he was; he found Chele Bones hot enough, and she was definitely a girl. "I mean, that's just something you're born doing, natural-like. Not something you learn."

"I didn't say it was rational," Draco scolded, downing his glass and pouring another. "What do you think will be the worst part about school?"

"Class, I suppose," Harry answered. "That's certainly my least favourite part about public school, and I can't see there being much difference."

"We'll still be friends there, won't we Harry?" Draco asked after a moment of uncertain indecisiveness. He hated exposing his own vulnerabilities. "It's just that it's you and I on our own so often, and there are so many more people there..."

"Of course we'll still be friends," Harry said. "Don't be ridiculous. How could we not be friends? We've been friends since we were in the womb."

"Well. I'm just making sure you won't be intimidated by my sudden and dramatic popularity. You'll have much more competition, won't you," Draco said, grinning and saying about the exact opposite of what he was thinking. It was a habit he had; a game he played of self-preservation. "Promise me you won't let this depress you. If you start having dark thoughts without me there, I wish for you to come to me immediately, for I am kind and giving and I won't let you perish alone."

Harry started snickering. "Oh, I promise," he said. "At the first sign of depression, I'll... I'll seek you out."

"I realize imitation is supposed to be the highest form of flattery, Harry, but if you wish to sound like me, you're really going to have to work on your vocabulary," Draco said, nudging Harry teasingly with his hand, and then blinking in surprise. "Oh! I forgot I had Aesculapius. Did I ever tell you how I chose her name, Harry?"

"Oh, only about eight-hundred times," Harry answered, draining another glass.

"Oh yes?" Draco asked, voice full of challenge. "Well, unless you can tell me in the next ten seconds, I'm going to inform you again. Honestly, you'd think some of my knowledge and wit would have rubbed off on you by now, considering we've been friends since we were in the womb. You must be exceptionally thick. I'm sorry to have to inform you of this."

"Well she's named after the Greek..." Harry started, but Draco cut him off.

"Your ten seconds are up, honestly," Draco interrupted. "Now. There's this Greek myth about snakes and their healing capabilities..."

"You wasted my ten seconds insulting me!" Harry moaned.

Draco sipped his champagne and smiled sweetly at Harry. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt when someone is speaking, Harry? Honestly. Now as I was saying. These snakes had special healing powers..."

***

Hours later, Lucius and Narcissa walked through the front doors happily, laughing together, faces still flushed from all the dancing they'd done. "I swear, we can't be done yet, Cissa. Come with me to the drawing room, and I'll play your song."

"And I'll dance for you," Narcissa said, kicking off her shoes and twirling her way through the sun room. When she reached the drawing room, though, her eyes fell on the couch and she froze. "Oh. How cute."

Harry and Draco were both asleep on the couch, Draco with his face turned into Harry's neck and Harry with one arm thrown across Draco's middle, their legs intertwined. Harry's glasses were skewed on his face, and Draco's visible hand was clutching at Harry's shirt sleeve. There was a very nearly empty decanter on the floor next to them, and a half full bottle of champagne on the side table at their feet.

A short distance away, Draco's pet snake was curled around one leg of the piano, it's white scales in stark contrast to the glossy black of the instrument.

"Well," Narcissa said softly to Lucius, smiling at the sight. "I suppose I ought to call the Potters and tell them Harry's here. He was probably expected home hours ago."

"And no doubt they've called a number of times," Lucius said, smiling despite the fact that the boys had stolen his alcohol. "At least they were using glasses," he muttered, walking over quietly and picking up the decanter and the champagne bottle.

"Shall we let them sleep?" Narcissa asked, following Lucius and picking up both of the glasses before the two of them headed for the kitchen. "Or, I suppose that depends on Lily's reaction."

"Yes. Let them sleep for now," Lucius said. "I should take that snake up to Draco's room before it dies."

"Thank you. You know I don't like the thing," Narcissa replied, picking up the phone and dialling the Potters' number, long since memorized. "It was a lovely evening though, Lucy. Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear," Lucius said, kissing Narcissa on the cheek just as a frantic Lily on the other end could be heard saying, "Tell me he's at your place."

"Yes, he's here," Narcissa said and shooed her husband from the room. "Lucius and I just returned home from a wonderful night out to find your son and mine asleep on the couch, and quite cozy at that. But he's safe, if likely drunk. They got into the scotch and champagne while we were out."

"As long as he's alive, I can rest easy," Lily said. "And James and I can yell at him when he gets home. He's all right there for the rest of the night?"

"Of course. We'll even give him breakfast so he won't be distracted from your reprimands by hunger," Narcissa answered. "And I'll take a picture for you, of the two of them all cuddled up on the couch. It's adorable, and they'll be humiliated about it in the morning, I'm sure. Oh, and don't worry, they're dressed."

Lily laughed. "One day you're going to call me to tell me he's there and say that they're not dressed," she said. "James seems convinced that Harry's as straight as they come, but I'd be willing to put money on him taking after Uncle Sirius."

"I don't know about that, Lily," Narcissa said wryly. "I think Draco is quite enamoured of him, whether he knows it or not. If Harry was gay, they'd probably be shagging."

"Oh, give Harry time," Lily said. "He's just preoccupied with what his father might think. Boys. Anyhow, it's quite late. James'll be over to get him in the morning. Thanks, Cissa."

"Boys indeed. And you're more than welcome. Sleep well, Lily," Narcissa answered, hanging up and walking into the sun room, pulling out the digital camera they kept in the cupboard next to the bookshelves of photo albums. She snapped a few pictures of the boys, and then headed upstairs to find her own man.

Perhaps dancing for him to the music of the piano was out of the question now, but she was sure she could improvise in the bedroom. She may have a nearly grown son, but she wasn't that old yet.

Chapter Six <-- Chapter Seven --> Chapter Eight

Summer 2025

2008-04-26T05:20:24Z

Of Boneses and Lynches

Where there is growing up, growing old, and drifting apart.

*** We've been trying like mad to organize our 12 year plan, but... we fail, bottom line. On the bright side, however, we've got a bunch of chapters to post that were supposed to be for later. So here's what we're going to do for you: We're going to take a page out of the EPP book and start posting whatever we write for the future, unchronologically. Good deal? We'll post lots more, this way! And likely have a lot less six month long lulls. Lol.

Ps - WE LOVE YOU GUYS, OMG

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"Just because you know furniture polish, Bonsie, does not mean you know paint," Dorcas declared as she poured the last of the warm rusted copper coloured paint into a tray. "I know art. I know how much paint you go through to make art. You'll just have to go out and get more."

They'd just moved into a new house and to Dorcas' surprise, the girls had been excited about redecorating on their summer home from school. Of course, that was probably because they got to completely do over both of their rooms as well, and though they were doing the living room today, the girls had already chosen colours for their rooms. Chele had gone with a mysterious, smoky purple and Manny had chosen a succulent, full red, though when they'd heard Dorcas' plans to paint a mural across one of the living room walls, they'd insisted on doing something funky in their rooms as well, and Dorcas had, of course, encouraged them. Chele had designed an intricate floral inspired swirl, and Manny had plotted a bright abstract piece. Their enthusiasm, of course, meant Dorcas wasn't surprised to hear what came next.

"We'll go too," Manny said immediately. "We still have to pick out colours for our bathroom. And we can get food on the way home, right? I'm starving."

"I suppose," Edgar half-agreed, looking at his watch. It was 4:30, and they'd been painting since the morning. "Pizza and drinks though, girls, I don't want to hear about cheese bread or wings or chips."

"No promises," Chele said, grinning at her sister as she fixed her ponytail.

"Come on, Daddy. We're growing girls. We need things like cheese bread and wings," Manny said, already pasting on some puppy dog eyes.

"Girls, don't be manipulative little wankers. You ought to respect your father," Dorcas said, trying to sound stern but she was smiling. Personally, she thought it was Edgar's own fault that he could never say no to his daughters. "Mommy's going to make a nice family sized batch of midday margaritas, so hurry back."

"Strawberry, right? It's my turn to pick, and I want strawberry," Manny said, smiling. She was the only thirteen year old she knew who was allowed to drink everything from beer to martinis, depending on what her mother felt like.

Edgar sighed, climbing to his feet from where he'd been tracing an edge brush along the corner of the room closest to the dining room. Patting his pocket to see if he'd put his wallet in his shorts, Edgar wondered when, exactly, the line between the acceptable spoiling of small children had been crossed, and he had entered the land of unnecessarily indulging his teenage daughters. Grabbing his keys off of the kitchen counter he said, "Come on, then, I don't want to be out all evening. I'd like to finish the living room tonight and be in bed by ten."

"Gosh, Daddy, when did you get old?" Chele asked teasingly. "Nobody who's any fun goes to bed before ten!"

Edgar was distantly reminded of something similar Dorcas had once said to him, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't dawdle. I'm hungry too, and I don't want to wait around for you lot the whole fucking night!" Dorcas called, knowing the girls had a tendency to get sidetracked, and drag Ed along with them. It was usually cute, but not when it meant she had to wait for them.

"Okay, Mum," Manny called as she stepped into her flip flops before running and jumping onto her sister's back. "Giddy up!"

"Brat," Chele said fondly, hoisting Manny up before shoving on her own shoes and running out the door after Edgar.

"Love you!" he called to Dorcas, grinning at her as she walked into the doorframe to close it.

"Love you too," Dorcas replied, rolling her eyes as she watched the girls climb into Ed's truck and crank the music up as soon as he started the vehicle, loud enough that Dorcas could hear it even after she shut the door. They were a handful, but she'd loved them both for every single second she'd had them, and she'd never give back any of it.

"Hey, Daddy, can we get a new bath tub for our bathroom?" Manny asked, after reaching out and turning the music back down again. "I saw this totally funky chrome one. You remember, Chele? In that home magazine? It had a matching sink, too. It was really cool."

"Yeah," Chele agreed. "It'd look really good in our bathroom too, because you could take out those side shelves for us, and the vanity is longer, so there'd be more room for our girly things."

"There's nothing wrong with what's already in the bathroom," Edgar said, pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. "The house was remodelled two years ago. It'd be a waste of money to replace everything that still functions fine."

"Yes, but Daddy," Chele said, sighing and rolling her eyes at her father's completely lack of understanding about style versus something being practical. She'd tried to explain it to him once using high heels as a comparison, but he'd only muttered that it seemed like unnecessary punishment, and then told her she couldn't have a brand new car for her birthday. "It would look so much better."

"It really, really would," Manny agreed, batting her eyes at him, for all the good it did with him watching the road. "We'll help. We've been helping. Besides, you're just oh so amazing at all this home renovation stuff, it'd probably take you like, three and a half minutes to do it. And we really will help. Besides, it'll totally up the resale value, and chrome is like, indestructible. It'll still look great in five or ten years if you ever want to sell the place."

"Flattery isn't going to make me deal out money for a bathtub no one needs," Edgar said, holding his ground. "Ask for new clothes, or a book, or something, but there's no justifying renovating the entire bathroom."

"Can we have new clothes?" Chele asked, raising her eyebrows. "Because there's this dress I've been eyeing. It's like, this purple-ish blue colour, with skinny straps, and there're these slinky stilettos that'd just look smashing with it."

"What do you need a new dress for?" Edgar asked.

"Well no reason," Chele shrugged. "It's just nice to have in case an occasion comes up."

"You know, your mother was never half so preoccupied with clothes as you lot," Edgar commented. "Still isn't. She wore a dress your grandmum made for her to Narcissa Malfoy's wedding. You two sniff when she sends you anything."

"Well, sorry, but grandmum just does not know what's fashionable now," Manny said, shrugging. "It's nothing personal. We just think the clothes she makes are ugly. Not that we don't appreciate the thought, of course. We love grandmum. ...We just don't love looking like prudish Amish girls. There's nothing wrong with showing a little skin, you know Daddy."

Edgar made a grunting sort of uncomfortable noise, then said, "Susan and Norah wear the dresses she makes them. And Willem wears the shirts. Are they unfashionable and prudish, then?"

Manny snorted, and exchanged a look with Chele. "Uh, yeah, Daddy. Chele and I have been investigating, and you wouldn't believe all the weird shit Susan blushes over."

"Ooh, Manny, remember that time we took her underwear shopping with us?" Chele squealed, laughing. "We could not convince her that thongs were sexy."

"I don't want to know," Edgar said, before the girls could get started. "And I don't think you should be goading your cousin like that. Especially since she's older than the both of you."

"That's what makes it worse," Manny moaned. "She's finished school, and you can still make the girl turn red as a tomato by just whispering Neville's name. We're trying to help. She's supposed to be an adult, and she's a shy little mouse."

"Blushing over his name?" Edgar asked, surprised. "I thought they were dating?"

Chele sighed. "They've been dancing around it for years," she said. "If they don't screw soon, they're going to miss the opportunity and end up alone forever. I don't even supposed they've even snogged properly."

"It's terribly sad, Daddy," Manny told him. "We're working on it, though. Chele snuck some sexy lingerie into her luggage before she left school this year. We're hoping it'll encourage her. If all else fails, we're just going to get her drunk and rent her porn, then call Neville ourselves."

"Mmm," Edgar said. "So long as you've got her best intentions in mind, right?"

"Well of course. Anything for family," Chele said. "Norah's next. She once asked Manny what a penis felt like. At least Willem seems to have his head on straight. I saw him holding hands with Em Prewett."

Manny giggled. "Daddy, your face has gone all red. Chele, you're not supposed to say things like that in front of Daddy. He gets all embarrassed and angry and protective, and that's why the Christensons don't talk to us anymore, remember?"

"He was standing on the sidewalk in broad daylight!" Edgar growled. "Where I come from it's hardly mannerly to stay in viewing range of a girl sunbathing with an obvious stiffy. Besides, we moved. We don't have to worry about the Christensons and their crap talk."

"Daddy, we've been to where you come from," Chele said. "It's all farmers and bible thumpers. Most of them think shagging is only for making babies. If I didn't know first hand that you and mum were cut from a different sort of cloth, I'd be surprised that I even exist."

"Ooh, paint!" Manny quipped before their dad could respond, and flung the door open before the truck had even stopped, laughing as Ed slammed on the brakes so she wouldn't jump out while they were moving. Manny took Chele's hand and tugged. "Come on. If we can't have a new tub, we have to decide what will best spice up that boring white one."

"Christ, Manny!" Edgar said, straightening into the parking spot and climbing out, frowning at his youngest daughter. "Don't do that. Wait until the ruddy car stops! You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Oh, Daddy," Chele said. "Don't be melodramatic. We're only in a car park."

"You worry too much," Manny responded, still holding Chele's hand as she pulled her big sister into the paint store, heading promptly for the paint chips and hopping up onto a table to pull a book of colours and trims into her lap, leaving their father to ask someone about the Copper Sunrise paint they needed to finish the living room. "Hey, Chele, what do you think of like, blue and green stripes or something? Or we could hand paint vines on."

"Ooh, Mum'd like that. She finished that tangled vine back piece for the bird with the gauged septum. You should've seen it. One of her best bits to date, I think," Chele said, admiring some of the colour choices Manny was showing her. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the bloke mixing the paint for her father was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and Chele smirked before striking a pose that would show off her arse in the shorts she was wearing.

Manny looked up from the book, as though intuitively aware of the chance to show off, even if she wasn't as well developed as Chele. Manny might be young, but she knew she was already hot, and looked a fair bit older than she ought on top of that. She smirked at her sister and then stretched to grab another paint book, watching for the fellow's reaction.

Predictably, his eyes widened accordingly as Manny's shirt rode up, and she said softly to Chele, "Daddy's going to flip if he notices. Hey, how old do you think he thinks we are? Or do you think he just doesn't care?"

"Probably doesn't care. Knows he doesn't have a shot anyhow," Chele answered, arching and pulling down a book as well, her breasts bouncing when she brought her arms back down. "He's cute I guess. I might shag him."

"I wouldn't, because he's much too old," Manny said, wrinkling her nose. "I want to shag someone though. Maybe I can still convince Ron when we go back to Salcombe for Grandmum’s August barbecue. We got pretty close to shagging last week in the backseat of that stupid, rust bucket of a car of his. Except, he kind of turned red and ran away whenever he saw me around town the next couple of days. Honestly, he's way too fucking hung up on my age. And I'll bet you he'll be back with Hermione before the end of the summer, too. You just know he's going to tell her about me, and thank God she's graduated. If everything you've said about her is true, going to school with her after almost getting Ron in the sack would be torture."

"Oh, she's a real bitch," Chele said, smiling as the guy behind the counter almost dropped the paint he was about to put in the mixer. "Know-it-all, possessive. You should've heard the ream she put on me after Harry and I shagged. Ridiculous."

"Do you think Rian would get weird if I asked him to fuck me?" Manny asked contemplatively, stretching one of her long legs out on the table and picking at a spot of paint on her thigh. "I don't even think he's hit puberty yet. Maybe I'll fuck Atlas. What do you think?"

"Nah," Chele saidm 'accidentally' dropping one of the books onto the floor and bending to pick it up. The guy helping Edgar spluttered. "It won't really make much difference," she added, just as her father noticed what was going on.

"Michele! Amanda! What are you doing?" Edgar snapped, glaring at the bloke helping him as he handed him the mixed paint.

Manny ran her fingers over the skin of her thigh she'd just picked paint off of, startled into looking up by her father and noticing the guy behind the counter staring with glassy eyes at her and Chele. God, she loved being able to do that to people. Hopping fluidly down off the counter and curling an arm up over one of Chele's shoulders, she smiled at the guy and informed him, "I'm only thirteen. You're a dirty, dirty man."

Edgar sighed with exasperation, rolling his eyes and taking the paint roughly before stalking in the direction of the nearest till. "We're leaving, girls. Now."

"Oh, but Daddy, we haven't picked the colours for our bathroom yet!" Manny whined.

"Later," Edgar growled. "I said we're leaving, and we're leaving. No buts, or 'Daddy's', or anything else." Edgar dropped the paint bucket at the register and paid as quickly as possible, Manny and Chele trailing after him.

"Daddy, you're being ridiculous," Chele complained. "He was just looking."

"Boys always look. And they're always going to look," Manny added, almost having to jog to keep up with the pace their dad was setting back to the truck.

Yes. Yes, boys were always going to look. And Edgar hated it. Whatever happened to the cute little girls in their pigtails and sundresses, with teddy bears and Barbie dolls? Whatever happened to story time, and tea parties, and arts and crafts? Somehow Chele and Manny had started growing into long legs, and short clothes, and breasts, and it made Edgar sick to his stomach. Dorcas said it was inevitable, and that they had to grow up whether their parents wanted them to or not. It was what kids did. She also teased him about the fact that their offspring had been dubbed the 'Hot Bones Sisters', and that there was nothing he could do about that either.

Edgar loved his girls. They were his life. Dorcas and Chele and Manny made every tedious bill, annoying customer, and gossipy neighbour worthwhile. He just wanted them to wear clothes that covered their private areas, and not talk about shagging when he was around, and to offer up just a little God damn modesty.

They climbed into the truck, and it wasn't until they'd started driving again that Edgar said, "I know that you girls... you know you have the sorts of... of things that boys like. And you flaunt them. And you also know that it drives me batty when you push the limits and lead people on and tease them. That's the wrong sort of attention. You girls have to see what you're bringing on yourselves. You can't always be in control of what you're doing. I don't. I don't want to see you girls get hurt."

"Oh, Daddy," Chele said.

"Daddy, you don't have to worry about us so much, you know," Manny said gently from her spot on the other side of Chele from him. "We can take care of ourselves, and just in case we can't, we're always watching out for one another too. We're smart. You taught us that. We just like to be sexy too. Blame Mum. That's where we get it from."

"I can't help but worry," Edgar said. "You're my baby girls. It's a Daddy's job to worry."

"You should teach yourself to take your frustration out on something else then, instead of poor, unsuspecting blokes," Chele said. "Like a punching bag. Or... beat up Uncle Aidan or something."

"He can't, Uncle Aidan goes on TV all the time, silly," Manny scolded. "Go to Salcombe and beat up Uncle Sirius. He'll just look like he got in a bad bar fight."

"Uncle Sirius wouldn't take that lying down," Edgar said, amused. "He broke my arm once, you know. Albeit we were seven at the time, and there was a lawnmower involved, so he did have an unfair advantage."

"Don't start with the reminiscing. Last time we were up until three in the morning listening to hours and hours of stories," Manny said, neglecting to mention that it had been her and Chele who'd been prompting him to talk. She just wasn't in the mood for it at the moment, however, so she grinned and quipped, "Anyway, not like Uncle Sirius could do much about it. You could totally take him. Oh! Turn left! Left now, left for pizza, Daddy, left!"

"Okay! Left turn," Edgar said, half-laughing as he turned hard. "Your mother would kill herself laughing at me if she could see us now. Put your seatbelt on, Manny."

"Mum'd be screaming louder than Manny just did," Chele said. "'Left Bonesie, swing a left! I don't want to go around the block!'" she added, doing a rather good impression of her mother.

"'Oh, it was just a red light. We didn't die, did we? Calm the fuck down, Bonesie,'" Manny chimed in as she dutifully pulled on her seatbelt. "I want vegetarian with extra cheese, and barbecue chicken wings."

"Mmm, pepperoni," Chele said. "With pineapples, and cheese bread with extra garlic."

"Didn't I put my foot down about the wings and the cheese bread?" Edgar questioned. "I distinctly remember saying pizza only."

"Yeah, yeah, Daddy," Chele said dismissively. "You know you want barbeque wings. Besides, Mum'll want them too, you know she will."

"Please Daddy? You said no about the bathtub. Say yes about the wings and cheesy bread," Manny said, smiling charmingly up at him. "You know you want to. Don't you love us?"

"I don't think that cheese bread and love are mutually exclusive," Edgar said. "But fine."

"Yay! Thank you, Daddy!" Chele squealed. "And just for that I swear I won't complain about the smell of all the extra onions on your pizza."

***

Dorcas and Edgar had dropped the girls off at the Lynch house before heading out with Aidan and Hestia, leaving the children together with the vague instruction for the olders to keep an eye on the youngers. It was such a common occurrence now, though, to leave the kids home alone that they hardly ever bothered to leave instructions anymore; they'd long since figured out that the kids would do whatever they wanted anyway, but could at least be trusted to keep most of the house in one piece.

Right now, Egan and Chrysander, who were fourteen and eleven respectively, were in their room up the hall, fighting over something. The crashes emitting from that direction every so often weren't punctuated by screams of pain or terror filled silence, so no one was really worried about it. Manny was sprawled across the couch, her head in Chele's lap and her feet draped across Rian, allowing herself to stare contemplatively at Atlas' profile instead of the movie that was playing.

He was attractive, she thought. He was older, if only by two years. She wondered if he was a virgin.

"Hey, Atlas, are you a virgin?" she asked suddenly. That would solve that problem.

Atlas looked away from the television surprised, and smiled slightly. "Why?" he asked, instead of answering.

"Pussy," Chele teased, grinning. "He's such a virgin. Any more of one and he'd kick Mary's ass and immaculately conceive."

"Fuck you," Atlas said, but he was still looking at Manny.

Rian kept quiet, but he didn't like where the conversation was going, narrowing his eyes at his brother and holding Manny's feet protectively. If Atlas laid a finger on her, so help him, Rian'd kick his arse into next Tuesday.

"Because you're the only one in the room whose sex status I didn't know," Manny improvised swiftly, wiggling her toes against Rian's hands, all the while holding Atlas' gaze. "Chele here is a big slut, Rian's as pure as they come, and I, unfortunately, still have my pretty little flower."

Atlas' cheeks turned red, but he smirked. "I might be. Want to do something about it?"

"No," Rian said warningly.

"Hey, just because you're not getting any doesn't mean I can't," Manny retorted, turning to smirk at Rian. "Unless you'd rather do the honours? Have you even hit puberty yet, little man?"

To punctuate that sentence, Manny slid one foot up into Rian's groin teasingly.

"Christ," Rian said, pushing her foot away. "I'm the same age as you, you know. No need to be a bitch about it."

"Ah, but that's what she's good at, my darling baby sister," Chele purred, leaning down and kissing either of Manny's cheeks. Through the flood of blond hair she whispered, "I can distract pipsqueak if you and Atlas want to go somewhere."

Manny nodded minutely, heart already starting to beat a little faster. How exciting. "Send him after me," she breathed, then sat up slowly and smiled at Rian. "I wasn't being a bitch, Ri. It's a proven fact that boys mature far slower than girls, and I mean, I've got proof. I'm pretty stacked for a thirteen year old, if you hadn't noticed."

Rian grumbled suggesting that he definitely had noticed, and Atlas grinned. "What's the matter, little brother? Jealous?"

"I'll kill you," Rian said. Atlas knew perfectly well that Rian fancied Manny something ridiculous. He wouldn't dare.

"Hey, hey, boys. Don't fight about something that hasn't even happened," Manny said, rolling her eyes and then getting up, winking at Atlas in a way that was meant to indicate yet. Rian was just being silly, anyway. They were just friends, and he probably just had some stupid pride thing about her losing her virginity before him or something. "I'm going to go make myself some food. I'm starved. Be back in a little while. You can both fight over me while I'm gone."

Once Manny had left the room, Chele raised her eyebrows at Atlas and said, "You're hungry too, right?"

"We just ate," Rian offered stupidly, looking at the spread of nachos sitting on the coffee table.

"Yeah," Atlas said, catching on. "Yeah, I'm hungry. I think I'll go help Manny wrangle something up."

"But you don't... Hey. Atlas, don't even fucking think..." Rian started, but was cut off by Sander's screams from up the hall, and Egan's laughter. Rian rolled his eyes and said, "We're not done," pointing a finger at Atlas as he ran from the room to break up his brothers.

"Well?" Chele asked Atlas. "What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?"

Atlas didn't need telling twice.

Manny wasn't upstairs in the kitchen looking for food. She was, in fact, lying on Atlas' bed and flipping through a dirty magazine from a stash of his that she and Rian had found a while ago and waiting. When she finally heard a sound in the hallway, she smiled and called, "I'm in here."

Atlas peered nervously around the doorframe and said, "Hi."

"Hi," she said back, smiling and pushing the magazine onto the floor. "Can we not be nervous about it? I don't want to be nervous. Just come here, and shut the door behind you."

Atlas did as he was instructed, sitting tentatively on the bed beside her and chewing on his mouth. They didn't say anything, just leaned into one another awkwardly before their lips finally met. Manny put one of her hands right on his crotch. Atlas made an indistinguishable noise against her mouth and pulled her into him, trying to be forceful instead of tentative. It was obvious she didn't want slow steps, and Atlas was fine with that. He was going to get laid! He was going to lose his virginity to a Bones, and even if it wasn't Chele, who was older and probably more educated in the mechanics, it was Manny who was very hot and very guh.

***

"Where'd Atlas and Manny go?" Egan asked as he followed his younger brothers back into the living room, plopping down onto the couch next to Chele. He grinned and then yawned and pretended to put the moves on her by draping an arm around her shoulders and looking around mock innocently.

"You're ridiculous. And they're probably right in the middle of shagging, I suspect," Chele said.

"What." Rian deadpanned. "You didn't let them go, Chele."

"What?" Chele asked, looking up at Rian. "What does it matter, Ri? It's just a shag, not a wedding."

"Relax, little bro," Egan said easily, removing his arm from around Chele in order to lean forward and punch Rian in the shoulder. "You're still her best friend."

"Atlas and Manny are shagging right now?" Chrysander asked, shocked. "Ew! I'm going to tell Da! He'll box him 'round the ears for that."

"You are not," Chele reprimanded sharply. "You'll keep you mouth shut, twerp, or I'll box you around the ears. Hear me?"

"But it's gross!" Sander complained. Then, after a moment, he added deviously, "Can I go listen?"

"Shut up, Sander, Christ," Rian snapped, shooting Chele a dirty look. "Isn't there a protective bone in your body, Chele? What sort of big sister are you?"

"The kind that lets her little sister make her own decisions," Chele huffed, annoyed. "What sort of little brother are you?"

"The kind that doesn't want his big brothers to get any," Egan suggested. "Or maybe just the kind that doesn't want his big brothers to get any from Manny Bones."

"Why not?" Sander asked, curious.

"You're an idiot, kid," Chele said. "Is that it, then? Are you being overprotective because you're her mate, or because you wanted to shag her yourself?"

"Fuck you," Rian answered.

"Well you could've just said something to her," Chele said. "She wasn't really too choosy about who, you know. Just wanted to get it over with. It's easy as pie after the first go at it."

"I'm not an idiot!" Sander said, pouting.

"Damn. You are an idiot, Sander. It could've been me upstairs with Manny, if not for you," Egan said as he caught his brother in a head lock and began to noogie him in revenge, though if he were honest, he wasn't all that interested in Manny. Or Chele, for that matter.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow, let me go," Sander said, punching his little fists into whatever part of Egan he could reach. Finally, he got an elbow close enough to Egan's groin that Egan let him go, and Sander glared at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"I am going to murder him in his sleep," Rian hissed irrationally, glaring at the hallway and trying not to imagine his brother and Manny... Ugh. Oh, Rian hated him. Rian hated him, and the fact that he was older and that Manny had chosen him instead of Rian, and that son-of-a-bitch was going to get it.

"You okay there, Rian?" Chele asked. "You look like you might explode. If provoked."

"Then I recommend not provoking him," Egan said casually, though he was watching his brother warily and leaning forward a little. Rian might only be thirteen, but he was strong just like the rest of the Lynch boys, and while most of the time their fighting was good natured, Egan didn't fancy having to get between him and Atlas tonight with only eleven year olds and girls around if things got out of hand. "Little shit has an Irish temper. Hey, Rian, maybe you ought to go to your room? Just so you don't run into Atlas tonight."

"If he comes near me," Rian said, looking at Egan, the murderous glint obivous in his eyes. "If he comes near me, I am going to beat him black and fucking blue. One word out of his God damn mouth about her, and he'll never be able to talk again."

"Shit, what's the big deal?" Chele questioned, surprised. "Is it really worth it to mutilate him?"

"No, it's not," Egan said firmly, before Rian could answer. "Rian's just stupid about Manny. You Bones girls seem to inspire stupidity in men. Seriously, Rian, you've got to calm down, man. You're scaring Chrysander."

"He is not. I'm not scared," Sander piped up, but he was watching Rian a little nervously.

"Fine. I'll be in my fucking room, all right? But if Atlas values his bollocks he better not come twenty feet within the door," Rian said, and stalked off, his hands balled into fists and his face angry and red.

"Well," Chele said, watching him go. "If I would've known he was going to be such a tit about it I would've kept my mouth shut."

"Manny'll calm him down," Sander said, shrugging, seemingly unconcerned now that Rian was out of the room.

"Manny's the problem, dumb shit," Egan said.

Sander just pulled at face at Egan, and then said, "Now who's the idiot? Manny always calms him down. It doesn't matter what the situation is."

"I think it's a little different, though, what with the shagging his brother bit," Chele mused. "Though you're probably right."

"Of course I'm right. Just watch," Sander said, as smugly as he could manage for all his scrawny, eleven year old body could pull off smug.

***

"Where's Rian?" Manny asked as soon as she walked back into the TV room with Atlas hot on her heels, poking Egan until he slid to the floor so she could flop next to her sister, snuggling up next to her and wincing a little. "And am I supposed to be this sore, or is Atlas just a monster?"

"Perfectly normal," Chele answered, wrapping an arm around Manny. "And he's brooding in his room. I'd keep your distance, Atlas."

Atlas grinned a grin of self-satisfaction and utter smugness. "What? Does he think he's going to pound the shit out of me?"

"Shut up. He could, you know," Manny said loyally, and then hugged her sister tightly for a long moment before reluctantly getting to her feet and grabbing the remainder of a bag of crisps. "I'm going to go talk to him."

"Manny, I don't know," Egan said before she could leave the room. "He's in quite a mood."

"Trust me. I can deal with his moods," Manny said, rolling her eyes and disappearing in the direction of Rian's room.

Sander looked up at Atlas. "You have to be nice to me for a really long time now or I'm going to tell Da what you did and he'll box your ears. Or worse, I'll just remind Rian and he'll punch you."

Atlas raised his eyebrows. "Or you can just shut your mouth, and I won't smack you around myself. How does that sound?"

Chele rolled her eyes. "Honestly. What's the sense of boys, anyhow? All you're good for is cock. The rest of the time you're too busy yelling and punching one another."

"Don't say cock around Chryssie. He's too little," Egan said.

"I am not!" Sander replied. "I'm old enough. Cock! Cock, cock, cock!"

***

"Piss off," Rian muttered automatically when he heard the door creak open. He was lying on his bed and facing the wall.

"Not a chance, you big baby," Manny said, shutting the door behind her and moving to lay next to him on the bed, wrapping her arms around him and hanging on for dear life, just in case he tried to push her away or shake her off.

"You're mean to me all the time," Rian muttered.

"Only because I love you," she replied, nuzzling her face into his neck. "Come on, Ri. Cheer up. It was just a little harmless fun. It didn't mean anything. You're still my number one, and I still love you most. What's got you so ruffled, anyway?"

"It doesn't matter," Rian said quietly, and couldn't help but smile at her calling him her number one. It shouldn't matter who Manny shagged, even if it wasn't Rian, because he was still the most important bloke in her life next to her father. He relaxed his shoulders. "Are you going to be just like your sister?" he asked.

"I'm going to be me, Rian," Manny replied. "And I'm probably going to shag people. I like the attention, and I like sex, and I like that boys like me. That's how I've always been, and you're just going to have to suck it up, because you're not allowed to not be my best friend. Got it?"

"I guess I don't have much choice," Rian replied. "So. Did Atlas suck completely?"

Manny laughed and loosened her hold on Rian, though only marginally. "He was totally clueless. He tried to make like he knew what he was doing, but it was totally obvious he had even less experience than me."

"That's good to know, anyway," Rian said. "The prick. I hope he never gets laid again."

"Be nice. Siblings are supposed to love one another. Like Chele and me," Manny said, flicking Rian in the stomach.

"I love him because I have to," Rian said. "Doesn't mean I have to like him."

"Whatever," Manny said. It was a losing battle. Boys were just different, she guessed, or maybe she and Chele were. "Oh, I brought some crisps in with me. They're in a bag on the floor if you want some. You'll have to climb over me though. I'm not moving. I'm sore."

"I'm not hungry," Rian said. "I'm fine just lying like this. With you."

"How long before the parentals get back, you think?" Manny asked, repositioning her head on the pillow next to his to get more comfortable, stifling a yawn in the mean time.

"A while, I think," Rian said. "You know what they're like. They think they're still teenagers."

***

"Tiger? You decent?" Dorcas called softly from the doorway, and then stepped into Rian's room when she saw that they were just sleeping. She gently nudged her daughter awake, and Manny's automatic shifting next to Rian woke him up too. Dorcas smiled widely at the both of them. "Come on, Tiger. Time to go home, baby girl."

"I'll come home tomorrow. I'm sleeping now," Manny mumbled, turning her face into Rian's shoulder.

"I don't think Da'll like that," Rian mumbled. "Although Mum'd be ecstatic."

"Quiet, sleeping," Manny groaned, trying to bury her head more deeply into Rian's shoulder, though she knew it was futile. "Carry me than, Ri? Please?"

"Oh, do," Dorcas said excitedly. She, like Hestia, thought Rian and Manny would be the perfect couple. They were the same age, and had been very close ever since they were little. It would be totally fairytale, and she and Hes were pushing it every chance they got.

"You're such a baby," Rian mumbled, and sat up rubbing his eyes. "All right then, come here," he said.

Dorcas stood back, watching with a smile as Manny smiled sleepily at Rian and then crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, shutting her eyes and just trusting him to get her safely to the car. It was sweet, and it just strengthened Dorcas' resolve to get the two of them together. They'd be perfect.

She followed the two of them outside, giving Ed a stern look so he knew not to say anything, and as soon as Rian had Manny settled in the back seat (who promptly flopped over and cuddled up to her sister), she kissed him on the cheek. "You keep trying, Rian Lynch. Her heart belongs to you, I can just see it."

"Thanks, Auntie Dor," Rian said, and hoped she was right. "Good night."

"Goodnight, Rian," Dorcas replied happily, and climbed into the car. She had a feeling something significant had happened tonight, but now wasn't the time to ask her girls. Now was the time to go home and get them to bed.

Rian stood in the drive-way and watched the Boneses pull out and drive away, half smiling, and half with a heavy heart. Maybe Auntie Dor was right. Maybe, if he just kept trying, and never gave up on her... Maybe one day he'd get her.

Heading back inside, Rian said good-night to his slyly smiling mother and his amused looking father before going to the bathroom with the intention of taking a piss, and brushing his teeth. What he wasn't expecting in front of the mirror, however, was Atlas.

"Hey little brother," Atlas said, grinning and dropping a freshly used toothbrush back into the tumbler next to the sink. "Did you have fun with my sloppy seconds tonight?"

"Don't push me, Atlas," Rian warned, hands curling into fists.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, little bro," Atlas replied, rolling his eyes. "We fucked. That's all. God, she looks great naked. You should try it sometime, man, if she'll do you."

"Yeah, well, she said you were shit, so don't get too cocky," Rian said. "It's not like you'll ever shag her again."

"Doesn't really matter if I never shag her again, does it? I was her first, and nothing will change that," Atlas replied, a little annoyed. He had not been shit. "Not even if you finally grow a pair and manage to take her off the market. I'll always have been there first."

"What's your problem?" Rian asked, angrily. "Why do you want to rub it in like that when you know perfectly well that I wanted her? That I still want her?"

"I'm your big brother, that's why, and because you're being a childish little shit about it," Atlas answered, turning to face Rian. "It's not my fault you were too chicken shit to step up and take what you wanted. And you missed out, because she felt so good, man. You have no idea."

"Stop it!" Rian shouted, shoving Atlas forward and into the vanity.

"Don't take your shit out on me, Rian," Atlas replied, shoving Rian back. "She probably wouldn't fuck you anyway because she knows you'd be a fucking idiot about it. Everyone knows you're obsessed with her."

"Yeah and you screwed her anyway!" Rian spat, pushing Atlas harder.

"Who's going to turn down either of the Bones sisters? I know at least six guys waiting for Manny to grow up just so they can try to fuck her, and they're going to be pleased as shit that she seems to be up for it now. Are you going to push all of them around too?" Atlas spat, shoving his brother right back.

Rian tensed, and drew back, punching Atlas across the jaw. "Shut up!" he yelled. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Atlas reeled back at the punch. Christ, his brother was strong. That had fucking hurt. "You little shit head."

And with that, Atlas launched himself at his brother, punching him in the stomach, though it lacked the anger that Rian's hit had carried.

Rian bellowed as Atlas hit him, but easily recovered from it and wrestled his brother to the ground, pinning his arms with his knees. He punched Atlas across the face again as he wriggled underneath Rian, and Rian said, "You're the shit head! Think you're so fucking cool because you fucked, Manny, huh?"

"Fuck you!" Atlas spat, but when Rian hit him again, he redoubled his efforts to get his brother off, and managed to free one arm, reaching up with it to hit his brother in the face.

Hearing the yelling, Egan tore out of his room and towards the sound, seeing Atlas and Rian struggling on the floor of the bathroom. He leaned in and tried to pull Rian off, snapping, "Cut it out, you fuckers!"

"Stay out of it!" Rian said, shaking Egan off and trying to hold down Atlas' free hand while drawing off and hitting him--albeit awkwardly--again.

Atlas was bleeding from the mouth, now, and when Egan tried once more to get Rian off, only to be thrown hard into the doorframe so Rian could continue punching Atlas, Egan stepped out into the hall and shouted, "Da! Da, come here!"

It was only a second before quick, heavy steps were coming down the stairs, and Aidan appeared, looking a little sleep softened, but wide awake. Before he could even ask what was going on, Egan pointed to the bathroom, and Aidan swore and stepped in, pulling a struggling Rian off of Atlas and holding him tightly, arms wrapped around his chest from behind. "What the hell do you two think you're doing?"

"Son of a bitch," Rian said, fighting against his father.

Atlas was breathing heavy and wiped blood off of his face with the back of his hand, glaring at Rian. "You pussy shit."

Aidan pulled Rian out of the bathroom and threw him into the hall, moving to stand between the two, glaring at them both. "Upstairs, now. Both of you. And if you lay one more finger on each other, you'll be grounded the rest of the summer. Egan, thank you. Now go to bed."

With that, Aidan turned and started upstairs, expecting his boys to listen to him and do as they were told. They knew when he meant business.

Rian and Atlas shuffled after their father silently, refusing to look at one another. Hestia came out of her and Aidan's bedroom and raised an eyebrow at her husband and her bloodied sons.

Aidan continued on to the kitchen without a word. If Hestia wanted to join them, she would. In fact, he had little doubt that she'd be right behind him with her own questions. He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring. He was about to start on the questioning, but he wasn't that tough, and he passed them a roll of paper towel to share, and an ice pack each from the freezer first. "Sit and explain. Now."

Hestia stood leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with the intention of listening for now.

"He's a prick," Rian said quietly. "Bragging fucking prick."

"Watch your mouth," Hestia said automatically.

"Sorry, Mum," Rian offered.

"I didn't do anything," Atlas said. "He's just nutters and started hitting me!"

"Bullshit," Rian snapped.

"One of you better start telling me the honest truth, or I'm going to start to get impatient, and just ground you both for the whole summer anyway," Aidan said sharply. He loved all his boys, but he hated it when they fought. He'd had all sisters growing up, and they argued, but he'd never laid a hand on any of them, and while he'd fought with his friends every so often, it was different. "Rian. What was he bragging about?"

Rian cracked his jaw. "He shagged Manny."

Hestia's jaw dropped. "Not in this house, Atlas Lynch, or so help me," she hissed.

"Fucking tattletale," Atlas snapped, punching Rian in the arm.

"Atlas!" Aidan shouted. "She's thirteen! And you're only fifteen, for Christ's sake! You're both under the age of consent. You're still just children. What were you thinking? Were you using your brain or just your libido? Christ! I thought I could count on your to be smarter than that. You're the oldest, and you ought to be the most responsible!"

"Well she wanted it!" Atlas said, and flinched as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

"That is the worst reasoning I've ever heard, Atlas," Hestia said angrily, walking around and standing next to her husband. The disappointment was evident in her face, and she crossed her arms. "You took advantage of us leaving you at home when you know our rules perfectly well, when you're supposed to be setting an example for your younger brothers."

Atlas looked at his feet. "I'm sorry."

"I don't think that's good enough," Aidan said, shaking his head. He hardly knew what to say. Sure, he'd been around Atlas' age when he'd lost it, but the girl had been older rather than younger and the situation had been completely different. "When her father finds out, do you think he'll accept that? I really expected more from you, Atlas. And whatever Manny Bones said she wanted shouldn't factor into it. She's thirteen and she's just trying to be like her big sister. You should've known better."

Atlas swallowed. He hadn't thought it was that big of a deal. It was just a shag. "I. I don't know what to say."

"Why were you bragging to Rian about it?" Hestia asked. "I'd like to hear your reasoning for purposefully making him feel bad, what with you knowing perfectly well that Manny has been his best friend since they were babies."

"I don't know," Atlas said.

"Fucker," Rian spat finally, having been quiet for so long.

"Rian, your mother already told you to watch your language," Aidan said. "And don't think that just because we're dealing with Atlas right now that you're off the hook for fighting."

"Sorry, Da," Rian said. "Sorry, Mum."

"It seems to me that you don't have any reasoning for anything that you've done, Atlas," Hestia said. "I'm really disappointed in your behaviour tonight. Your father and I expect a lot more of you. We depend on you to think before you act, to set an example, and to be the bigger person. How do you think breaking our rules, sleeping with a thirteen year old, and intentionally hurting someone factors into that?"

"It doesn't," Atlas said miserably.

Aidan rubbed his hands over his face. "It's late. Go to bed, both of you. We'll deal with this in the morning. And if I hear of even one more rude comment to each other tonight, let alone fighting, there'll be hell to pay. Now go on. But apologize to each other first." Aidan smiled a little, and then added, "And hug."

Standing up, Atlas took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry for goading you, Rian."

"I'm sorry for hitting you," Rian answered, and then, because their parents were looking at them expectantly, stepped in and hugged his brother.

After that they went back downstairs, to their respective rooms, and Hestia and Aidan didn't hear a sound. Walking into their own bedroom, Hestia dropped her housecoat onto the rocking chair and said with a sigh, "Well. What are we going to do with them? Edgar mentioned needing help landscaping. Atlas could do that."

"That's exactly what we're not going to do. Rian, maybe, but I'm not leaving Atlas alone around Ed for a while," Aidan said, rolling his eyes and flopping into bed. "Even if he is an idiot sometimes, I still love my son."

"Mmm, I was thinking cruel and unusual, but I would like him to stay alive," Hestia agreed, smiling slightly as she laid down next to her husband.

Aidan stretched and then rolled in bed to face her. "Christ, what a mess. Thirteen. Edgar's going to be so mad he might even kill me when he finds out. How long do you think before Manny spills the beans to him?"

"Not too long, I don't imagine," Hestia replied with a sigh. "Not knowing the way Manny brags, anyway. She's trying far too hard to act the way her sister has. It's not healthy."

"Yeah," Aidan sighed. But Manny wasn't his job right now. His job right now was deciding how to deal with his oldest son who obviously needed to learn how to make better decisions. "Any ideas on a punishment for our little shit?"

"Grounded for the rest of the summer, at the minimum," Hestia replied tiredly. "And he can keep as far away from Amanda as possible."

"Keep away from Manny? I think he owes her an apology that's more than just the words 'I'm sorry'. He owes her big, even if she doesn't fully understand the wrong he's done her yet," Aidan said. He thought that it would do Atlas good to get to know her, spend a little time with her until he saw her as a real person. He obviously couldn't see beyond her bravado enough to realize she was a little girl trying to be like her big sister. Aidan wouldn't believe that Atlas couldn't be a sensitive enough boy to at least see Manny for who she was. Aidan had grown up with three sisters and he knew how self-conscious they could be. He knew how boys like Atlas had affected them, and Aidan had gotten physical with boys like that as a teenager. He refused to believe Atlas couldn't be better than that, given the opportunity and the right lessons.

"That's the point, Aidan. She's not going to comprehend why he's apologizing, because you know as well as I do that she instigated this," Hestia said, raising her eyebrows. "It's redundant. Unless they're both getting something out of it, other than... Oh, I don't know, an invitation to sleep together some more."

"Give him some credit. I don't think that some shallow punishment like grounding is going to change him. He's known her his whole life, but he obviously doesn't know her," Aidan argued. "He'd never have done something like that if he did. We raised him better than that. I think it'd be good for him to spend some time with her."

"Credit?" Hestia questioned, voice snapping slightly. "You want me to have some faith in him learning anything from a girl who just wanted to lose her virginity to the first available boy? After what just happened?"

"Manny is just a kid, and Atlas is behaving like one. They made mistakes, it doesn't mean they can't learn from them," Aidan said, annoyed at Hestia's attitude towards the situation. Their kids weren't hopeless. "How can you give up on them so easily?"

"I'm not giving up on them. I just don't think they're mature enough to appreciate a situation like that, being forced to spend time with one another," Hestia replied, rubbing at her eyes with her palms. It was late. She was tired of this. She was tired of today. It had been a long enough day at work thanks to scheduling conflicts and production changes, and then her oldest kid goes ahead and makes a worse judgement call then she thought was possible? "I need to be at the station at 6:30 tomorrow Aidan, and it's 11 now. Can we post-pone this discussion and the decision making to tomorrow afternoon? I just... my brain is not going to cooperate and we're just going to end up snapping at one another."

Aidan exhaled long and slow and then rolled so his back was to Hestia. "I have to work late tomorrow. I have a meeting with one of our guests for next week and then I have to go over my batch of ideas for next month with the producer. You know that. It'll have to wait until tomorrow night."

Hestia licked her lips as she frowned. She reached for the blanket and pulled it up over the two of them. "I didn't, actually, as you never said you'd set the meetings up, except for hashing out things with Al... but never mind. Good night."

"Good night," Aidan said softly, rolling back towards her again and pressing a kiss to her temple perfunctorily. He wasn't really feeling affectionate at the moment, but he hated how tense things had gotten between them the last few minutes. "Sleep well, Hes."

"You too," Hestia replied, forcing a slight smile before rolling away uncomfortably and feigning sleep.

Chapter Five <-- Chapter Six --> Chapter Seven