The Gift

There simply wasn’t enough gratitude in the whole of London for Dorian to express his thanks to Emily Meadowes each day when he arrived home from a long day of work to see her sitting in his flat, singing to his niece as if the babe were the woman’s own grandchild. Emily normally sat Ariel in Dorian’s flat while he was at work, but on the one occasion last month when Dorian had tracked a dark wizard to Romania and needed to be gone for a few short days, Emily had taken the baby to her house. She really was invaluable to the Auror turned uncle turned father and he tried to make sure she understood exactly how much he valued her assistance. Emily was always quite modest as Dorian lavished praise and thanks upon her at the end of each day and though it certainly didn’t make up for all the support the Meadowes had given him over the last several months, Dorian always made sure to bring her a small gift to Sunday dinners, which she insisted he and Ariel attend weekly.

Ariel seemed to love Emily as much as Dorian did. She was nearly always in a good mood when Dorian came home. Dorian even witnessed what Emily claimed was his niece’s first laugh as Emily said her goodbyes while Dorian was picking her up after her two-night stay at Fig Tree Cottage, though Dorian had a sneaking suspicion the Meadowes’ had observed this laughter a few times before. The idea that he might have missed her actual first laugh was eased only by the knowledge that Emily and Andre were wonderful surrogate grandparents. There really weren’t enough ways for Dorian to thank them, even if they brushed off his appreciation with hugs and other demonstrations of affection that seemed to make their own daughter uneasy.

Dorian had gotten home from work a bit earlier than usual, garnering a few sarcastically shocked comments from his colleagues as he left the Ministry office. It was only an hour difference from his usual clocking out but four months of something more resembling a normal work schedule was not long enough to alter his reputation as a workaholic. The day had been rather easy, as far as law enforcement went. He had started his day with an early morning training course for the Auror Academy, which he had been given command over this year. Dorcas, who usually was loud, inappropriate, and crass around Dorian outside of work, had been attentive and rather spot on with her comments. Seeing her perform so well in the various aspects of her training made Dorian happy, and he hoped that if Paris could see her cousin that she would be happy, too. After his lecture there were a few eye witnesses that needed interviewing regarding another home invasion which he had determined was part of a string of smaller Death Eater attacks. A bit of paperwork rounded out his day and then it was home to Ariel for an evening of baby talk and playing in the mirror.

Ariel loved her reflection, though Dorian wasn’t sure exactly how much she could see properly gauge from the baby in the mirror at her age, and he would often set a rounded mirror to levitate in front of her while she had some tummy time on the floor and Dorian cooked dinner. Tonight he was making chicken parmesan and had just set the oven timer when a knock at the door stole his focus. He knew instantly that it wasn’t Emily returning for something she’d left behind, the knock was firmer than she would use. It wasn’t Dorcas, either, as Dorcas no longer showed enough courtesy to knock, choosing instead to simply let herself in as if she lived in this crowded little flat too. There were only a handful of other usual suspects, Griff or Alastor stopping by for a chat, but that was rare and though Dorian was expanding his social circle a bit more these days, it wasn’t really enough to warrant an unannounced visit.

His strong jaw tensed as Dorian set the oven mitts on the counter and removed his apron. Picking up his niece from her rug on the floor, Dorian headed to the door and looked through the peephole. The man standing on the opposite side of the door looked familiar but Dorian didn’t place him right away. He was holding a pink package in his hand but otherwise seemed to be unarmed. A sturdy hold of his niece against his chest, Dorian pulled the door open, making sure that he didn’t remove the charm which would keep the other man from crossing the threshold into the apartment. “Good evening,” he said, a slight question in his voice.

The moment Dorian caught sight of the man’s eyes he realized who it was standing on his doorstep. Brilliantly blue eyes, just like River’s. Dorian had seen pictures of the man before, River had brought over a photo album and showed him the entire family he had been missing, sans his biological father. He remembered thinking how strange it was that he looked nothing like his siblings yet they clearly resembled their mother, as did he. Looking into this man’s eyes now, he could see the resemblance between Julian and River most clearly but most of all he could see the emotion hidden deep within the younger man as Julian looked at Dorian.

This was far more awkward of a situation than it had been when Dorian and River met for the first. That had involved an ominous third party in the middle of the night and a confrontation in the middle of his office yet this was far more complicated. The only connections these men shared had both died before they’d been able to meet and while Dorian wasn’t sure of what River might have shared with her brother, he knew for certain that she had shared plenty with Dorian on the vagabond she loved so deeply.

Ariel wriggled around in Dorian’s arms at the sound of Julian’s voice. This was her uncle, her proper uncle who knew her mother and father far better than Dorian ever could, even if they hadn’t passed on. Proper uncle or no, Dorian knew that Julian had troubles of his own and as conflicted as he had originally been about taking on his niece, Dorian was certain that his long-lost brother would not fair well raising a child. Or, better yet, Ariel would not do well being raised by such a man. Always coming and going, getting into trouble with the law, never living in one place long enough to really settle down, not to mention his affliction. Despite the laundry list of reasons Ariel shouldn’t have gone to Julian, Dorian still wrote the man, several times in fact, and each letter had gone unanswered. After everything River had told him of their brother, even if she had said it with the love and affection that River was known for, it did not surprise Dorian at all that Julian hadn’t bothered to come around when his niece was born and his sister died. Dorian had been a pallbearer at the funeral, again, and there had not been a single sighting of the Blackthorne man. Yet here he was, gift in hand, standing on Dorian’s doorstep.

“Julian,” Dorian replied stoically. “This is quite a surprise.” Dorian looked to his infant niece as Julian spoke to her. “We were expecting you some time ago.”

It was difficult not to be annoyed by the man’s response. Death was not something anyone was prepared for, not for someone River’s age. It was not an easy thing to lose a loved one and yet they were both adults with responsibilities and Julian had waved off his most important responsibility while he toiled in self-pity. Dorian had not been given a proper time to mourn, and he took on his new role without sacrificing the safety and welfare of an innocent little baby. He was instantly faced with caring for his infant niece who he had only known about for a few months. Dorian was completely unprepared for all of it; for siblings and nieces and personal tragedies, but he had faced it all unlike the selfish man-child in front of him. The Auror had taken on everything that he had never asked for or expected and he did so without much complaint, without hemming and hawing, but Julian was stood here on his doorstep with his puppy dog eyes expecting some sort of sympathy for leaving his only niece in the care of a virtual stranger. The annoyance Dorian felt had to be suppressed for the sake of Ariel, she was all that mattered at this moment and he wouldn’t allow his personal thoughts about his wayward brother to interfere with what was best for her. He would, however, remain vigilant in this man’s presence.

A pretty pink box was extended towards Dorian and he looked down at it. Only a brief moment passed in which time Dorian had gone over every possibility known to a skillfully trained Auror as to what harms could be inside. Based on River’s description of her beloved brother, there was no real reason anyone would suspect Julian of attempting to harm his niece but the very presence of the renegade werewolf in the apartment building was enough to set off all sorts of alarms inside Dorian’s head. “Thank you,” he said politely, a complete lack of suspicion in his voice despite not really trusting Julian. If Julian was anything like his sister River, then there would be no need to worry, but Dorian had more than just himself to think about and he couldn’t take any chances when it came to Ariel. If he did only one thing right in this world it would be making sure his niece was safe and loved. “Uncle Julian brought you a gift, wasn’t that kind?” He looked to the babe who was beginning to yawn, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she fought falling asleep. Ariel didn’t answer.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere to speak.” Dorian gave a quarter turn and set the little pink package on the dining table nearby. He briefly wondered if Julian would find it rude that he didn’t open Ariel’s gift immediately, but he needed to ensure it was safe and would prefer to do that while he wasn’t holding it right next to the youngster. “There’s a café at the corner,” he suggested, not wanting to play host to a veritable stranger. Somewhere public, while not completely safe as the numerous Death Eater attacks had thoroughly proven, would be better for Ariel. There was always a diaper bag ready to go, all he would need to do is grab a few things to keep her entertained and fasten her into her buggy.

“We are all the same, in that regard.” Dorian was not want for money. He had a hefty pile of gold saved away in a Gringott’s vault. His father had impressed upon Dorian the importance of financial planning and saving one’s money. He wasn’t a frugal man, Karl Humbert, by any stretch of the imagination but he believed in living within one’s means and as such Dorian had enough money saved to buy a house one day, should he ever grow tired of his efficient flat. A small fortune in the bank was not the thing that stood between Dorian – or Julian – giving Ariel everything she could ever dream of. Dorian knew what it was like to be orphaned. He only had vague recollections of his earlier years, the time before he found a home and a family with the Humberts, but the ache had persisted in his memories. Ariel needed her parents and all she was left with was a pair of uncles who didn’t know each other and didn’t fully trust each other. That wasn’t the makings of a proper family and that, above all else, was what Dorian wanted to be able to give this sweet baby angel.

A slight nod of the head was the response Julian received upon saying he would wait. Dorian was glad to see that Julian had stepped backwards instead of attempting to wait inside. It would be a better start if he didn’t have to explain to his estranged, werewolf half-brother why he wasn’t taking down the security charms that were keeping Julian from crossing the threshold into the apartment in the first place. Dorian shut the door, not pushing it hard enough for the latch to click as he would be returning in just a moment anyway and he did not need his brother thinking he was going to leave him in the hallway for ages. He turned, lifting Ariel a little higher on his chest, and walked to the coat cupboard where Ariel’s travelling things were kept.

Ariel’s buggy was a pale purple, trimmed in a darker shade of the same color. A little canopy could be extended to keep the sun off her face, should it make an appearance, not that it was likely today. Today was cloudy and windy. It had been raining off and on all week, and as such Dorian felt more than daft for starting to buckle Ariel into her seat before realizing she needed her jacket. They had gone on walks every day this week and he had not once forgotten to dress her properly before leaving the flat. He put it down to nerves and the surprise of finding his brother standing on his doorstep. Getting a four month old into a jacket wasn’t as easy as dressing a doll, this little doll wiggled and squirmed, and seemed to think herself funny as she smiled up at her uncle with large blue eyes that looked just like her mother’s. Dorian spoke gently to her as he dressed her and fastened her into her buggy. Her hat was next, an off-white number with a large flower that Emily had knitted her, and then her shoes.

Her diaper bag sat right next to a black duffel which had been stocked for several years with everything he should need, should he be forced to leave London in a hurry. Ariel had a similar bag of necessities packed since her first week living with her uncle. So long as he quickly restocked anything he use today, it was the perfect bag to take without keeping Julian waiting. Having tucked the bag into the bottom basket of the buggy, they were ready to be off for what Dorian could only assume was to be an even more awkward encounter than his first meeting with River.

Checking that he had his wand and his wallet, Dorian and Ariel stepped out into the hall where Julian was waiting with his arms folded across his chest in an almost defensive position. “Apologies for the wait. Little miss did not want to put her coat on.” It was strange making small talk with this stranger who shared his blood. Dorian wasn’t one for small talk anyway but anything more than chat of the weather and wiggly babies was best saved for a quiet-ish table and a pot of tea. Dorian led the way to the café down the street and thanked the couple who held the door open for Ariel’s buggy. The wife, a younger woman with black hair worn in tight curls that framed her head like a halo, stopped to admire Ariel, going on about how cute the babe was and how lucky she was to have two daddies to love her. The woman’s husband did not seem to be a progressive as his lovely wife but he kept his mouth shut tight as his wife continued to coo over the baby and what she assumed was an adorable gay couple.

The slight weight of Julian’s hand on Dorian’s shoulder was unsettling. Dorian did not know this man, not really. He had been told a number of wonderful anecdotes about how lovely Julian was but for every story that made River smile as she told it, there would be a side note of something displeasing. Julian was a ne’er-do-well; he ran away from his problems causing his family worry and grief, then would return out of the blue with the promise of reforming his ways. Dorian had seen in River’s eyes how her heart broke whenever she spoke of Julian’s wastrel tendencies, her sad smile when Bert would approach and rest his hand on her shoulder and speak words of comfort to his wife. When Julian didn’t respond to any of Dorian’s letters following River’s and Bert’s deaths, it only confirmed all of the Auror’s suspicions about his brother. Ariel would never thrive with a man like that, and then to add to it the curse of being a werewolf… Julian could not have a proper job, not one that would allow him to support himself and a child. Dorian did not know where his brother was staying now that he was in town, but he could not imagine it was anywhere too luxurious. Meager means did not make you an unfit parent on its own but what would Julian even do with a child every month during the week of the full moon? Despite this awkward encounter, Dorian knew things had worked themselves out for a reason and Ariel was the only thing that mattered now. He hoped Julian would agree.

The couple at the door were sufficiently charmed by Julian’s soothing tone and they little the men pass into the café without much more hindrance. Dorian noted how easily Julian slipped into a lie without batting an eye. He had clearly had practice. It was difficult to keep an open mind about his brother when the man was practically writing a list for himself of all the reasons Dorian should be wary. There was a pang of guilt rising inside Dorian as he watched Julian clear a little path between the tables so that Ariel could have a view of the window to look at while the two men spoke. This was his brother and for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger. It was unfair to Julian for him to be so distrusting when presently the man had done nothing to hard Dorian nor Ariel. Dorian was so used to putting up walls that he needed to actively stop and remind himself that whether or not Julian was a good man was yet to be seen, but at this moment he was Ariel’s uncle and a link to her family that Dorian could never be.

Getting Ariel situated at the table was rather easy. She had a little stuffed octopus which made a crumpling sound if she gave one of the legs a good squish. Dorian kept the toy attached to a little chain of plastic links which he attached to the side of the buggy; if the toy fell it wouldn’t hit the ground and get dirty. Ariel usually loved her crinkly octopus but she found the leaves blowing in the wind out on the pavement enthralling. Satisfied that she was comfortable, Dorian took his own seat and looked to his brother as Julian broke the small moment of silence with a directness that Dorian appreciated. “There’s no need for small talk,” Dorian replied, returning the sure look his brother was giving him. “River spoke of you fondly. It’s a shame we could not meet under better circumstances.”

Dorian caught sight of the unmistakable smile on his half-brother’s face at the mention of their sister. That was a comforting sight. Dorian had not known River long – only four months, which was a travesty unto itself, but in that time he had learned that everyone who met her thought on her with a smile. Dorian certainly would have, had he not been filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt knowing that he could have somehow stopped the attack that killed River and Bert, and left their daughter an orphan.

As Julian spoke, Dorian could not help but notice the eloquent turn of phrase that so easily rolled from his brother’s lips. It was not a rehearsed sort of ease, but an innate adoration for imagery that painted a picture so clearly that Dorian knew there had to be something of an artist to this man that sat before him. A writer, perhaps. Or maybe an actor. He was certainly giving a spectacular performance now, though it remained to be seen whether Julian’s tale of misery and forlorn was legitimate. Try as he might, Dorian struggled to keep his skeptical Auror mind at bay. The more his brother spoke, the more possibilities seemed to be developing. Dorian wondered how much of this was a well-laid plan and how much was genuine. For Ariel’s sake he prayed the man was pure of heart but Dorian could not help but that they were only moments away from a solitary tear running down the man’s face, for emphasis.

How much experience with young children Julian had was unknown to Dorian. River had not said much about Julian’s mates, other than the unseemly lot he fell in with at school and, of course, the werewolves he had run away with after his attack. The specifics were lacking, so he could have found himself surrounded by children and thus explained how Julian seemed not only so comfortable with the little angel playing happily with her crunchy octopus, but also keen enough to go through the minor hassle of dusting off the toy after it had fallen to the ground before passing it back over to the babe. Someone without exposure to children might have reacted slower in fetching the octopus, and would certainly not think to ensure its cleanliness when not obviously soiled.

“Ariel deserves her uncle,” Dorian retorted calmly, still mentally dissecting this man. In Dorian’s eyes, Julian had no choice but to make it up to the sweet baby girl sitting between them. It wasn’t so much a matter of will, but of how. “Your lifestyle, however…” Dorian tensed his jaw, keeping their discussion coded from neighboring ears. “River explained all about it. You’ve not been a very stable person in River’s life. Ariel needs better.”

One did not need to be a highly trained Auror to recognize the uncomfortableness in Julian’s posture as he looked to the floor and readjusted in his chair. Dorian did not mean to belittle the man, that would have benefited no one at this table, least of all their niece, but it could not be ignored that Julian had an affliction – whether tragic or not – that affected him so vigorously that most others in the same situation struggled to hold down a job, pay their rent properly, and certainly grappled with maintaining a family. It was unfair, and Dorian had met many werewolves on both sides of the spectrum to know that it was all about the person, not the affliction, but the majority of society did not view it in the same manner. They only saw what the news media reported, and in the case of a werewolf making the news it was hardly ever anything good.

Even without the stigma attached to being a werewolf, the practicality of it was not something they could simply ignore. For several days every month, Julian would be unable to properly care for a child. Dorian had undercover work that drew him away from his home and his niece every so often, but it was nothing as consistent as turning into a mindless, vicious animal each month. Add to that Julian’s history of being less than reliable even in his wizard form and Dorian did not have much trust in the man, at least not as a surrogate parent for Ariel.

“Brilliant. Ariel loves Diagon Alley, the pet shop is her favorite. We go there on weekends sometimes so she can watch the cats.” He had taken her a few times and Ariel had enjoyed the pet shop the most, though the squawking of birds frightened her at first, but it was not a regular adventure as Dorian made it seem. He was simply trying to be polite, and supportive. River had not given hers and Julian’s complete life stories, though not for lack of trying as the woman did love to chat, but there simply was not ample opportunity for Dorian to know every little thing about either of his siblings. Still, it seemed to Dorian that his younger brother finding a job (and hopefully sticking to it) was rather a big accomplishment and he hoped, for Ariel’s sake, that he could manage something of a normal life.

The cleverly smug expression hidden beneath the warmth of Julian’s face as he looked down at Ariel made Dorian uneasy. The question that followed left a strange uncertainty as well. “I am.” Was Julian simply being polite in asking after Dorian? The Auror did not think so and again struggled to refrain from judgement until he got to know his half-brother better. “I have been with the department since ’67, if I remember correctly. Had I had any idea I had family elsewhere I might have used my resources to find you sooner. It appears River was the real sleuth in the family.” To her credit, River had done a lot of research into finding her eldest brother despite not having much to go on, but it was through the helpful nudge of a still anonymous person that the siblings actually came to find each other. Dorian was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t his biological father who had sent he an River each other’s names, but there was no clues to follow after the murdered calligrapher who had been coerced or even forced into writing those notes, and the trail quickly went cold.

Not wanting to seem rude, as if their little family reunion was occupying a table without intent to purchase anything, Dorian caught the eye of a passing server. “Earl Grey tea, please.” Dorian looked from the waiter to his brother. “Would you care for anything? My treat, of course.”