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“You’re far too chipper.” That was possibly the best non-sexual compliment Dorcas had ever given him and he was quite certain it was not meant to be taken as a compliment. He did not see the point in getting gussied up and attending such a big and, arguably, an important event just to pick it apart and have a poor time. They were here, her plan – whatever the purpose behind it – had worked and he had accompanied her as she ‘requested’, so they should at least attempt to have an enjoyable evening. “Thank you,” Dorian said politely to a waiter who had come around with trays full of champagne flutes. Dorian took one and gave a polite expression before the waiter moved on.

The mention of his brother caused Dorian pause. Tracking Dorcas’ gaze, he easily found his half-brother dressed to the nines. On his arm was young Lunete Dearborn, one of his trainees and an aspiring Auror. While he cared in a professional capacity for Miss Dearborn, she was not someone Dorian took an interest in in any personal capacity. Whomever she desired to date was her business, but even still Dorian could not help but wonder what Julian’s end game was here. Did he know Lunete was one of his trainees at the academy? Was he aware that Dorian would be at this function tonight? Perhaps this was all a strange coincidence. Still, it was rather odd that of all the women his half-brother could have chosen to date, he happened upon one with a connection to Dorian’s professional life. Evaluating the couple over the rim of his glass, Dorian studied his brother. “He is a bit old for her,” Dorian remarked – his attempt at being catty without divulging more than Dorcas or anyone else needed to know about his suspicions of his little brother.

More could not be said on the subject of Julian and Miss Dearborn, as one of Dorcas’ friends was making a beeline for pair of Aurors. Tersha was nice enough but like her friend Dorcas, her personality was bigger than her entire body and she did not seem too concerned with keeping her thoughts to herself. The Sunday lunches that involved both Tersha and Dorcas were some of the longest meals Dorian had ever sat through, despite their duration being roughly the same as every other Sunday lunch. His name on Tersha’s lips was like a hungry lioness looking over a gazelle. “Mrs Knight,” he said in greeting, trying not to be obvious as he sidestepped from her touch which was something much more than just a mere compliment. “Thank you. You also look quite lovely this evening.” And she did, though she probably was well aware of it. She was rather egotistical for someone so carefree. Seeing her with Dorcas was often enjoyable until they turned their attention on him, joining forces to make him as uncomfortable as possible. He knew Dorcas did so on purpose and could control it because it happened less often around the office. Tersha, on the other hand, he was not sure whether this was just her style or if she meant to make him uneasy. She was too direct for his tastes, and even after having dated someone like Paris who was rather bold and did not often hold back her thoughts, Dorian was not accustomed to socializing with someone who was so outrageously forthright as Tersha Knight.

It had only been four months but in that short period of time Dorian had come to truly love his little niece. He had found it difficult to leave her after his two week sabbatical from work had ended but if he was to be in charge of another human being he would need to have money to feed her and clothe her. Dorian had a good amount of money in a Gringotts vault that he had saved away but he and Ariel couldn’t live on that forever and he certainly wouldn’t want to. His job was hard. It was stressful. On the best of days it was boring and on the worst it was deadly but he loved being an Auror and Dorian knew he wouldn’t be happy giving it all up to be a stay at home uncle to a little girl who would one day want more than what his life savings could afford them. It had been a difficult decision to go back to work but Emily and Andre eased his worries and soothed his overactive mind. They loved Ariel almost as much as Dorian did, and he was certain that if he explained that Ariel’s uncle had finally come around and needed to talk about River and Bert, they would drop just about anything to help them out. That was the sort of people the Meadoweses were.

There was a pang of guilt that struck Dorian as he watched Julian so lovingly and carefully place Ariel in her pram, smelling her hair and kissing her forehead. For a moment, as he watched the man who had been absent for the whole of Ariel’s life up until today, Dorian felt guilty for having thought there could ever be anything malicious or untoward about his half-brother. This was Ariel’s uncle and he so clearly loved her in this short span of time that he had known her. Anyone who could love couldn’t be as bad as Dorian had feared. “You as well,” he replied as his brother made to leave. Dorian’s arm moved forward slightly to shake the man’s hand – an awkward salutation for a family member but perhaps the most fitting considering the circumstances – but Julian simply downed his tea and turned tail towards the door.

Fastening the straps of her pram around the sleeping infant, Dorian looked over the little baby. She was making a sucking motion with her mouth, though there was nothing but her tongue to suck on. It was precious and gut wrenching all at the same time. He brushed her tiny blonde curls away from her eyes and then righted himself. He weaved back through the scattered tables and chairs with her pram, going out the door backwards so he could push it open with his back and pull the buggy along behind him without the door smacking roughly into the frame and waking the sleeping tot.

They were several paces behind Julian when they had finally made it to the pavement. He was headed in the same direction as Dorian and Ariel, and for a while that was normal but as they continued on, Dorian couldn’t help but to stare at his brother, just out of range for a conversation. Dorian’s apartment building was approaching and instead of continuing on, Julian turned and headed toward the door. Perhaps he was trying to be polite after failing to shake Dorian’s hand at the coffee shop and having decided to make amends by holding the door for Dorian and the buggy. Not quite. Julian opened the door and stepped inside, causing Dorian’s brow to furrow. What was this man playing at? If he was wanting to walk Ariel home, why had he not waited a few moments to walk along with them? The situation was perplexing to say the least but as Dorian continued, the questions only increased in frequency. Julian was still ahead of them as Dorian reached his floor and headed down the hallway towards his flat. He stopped in front of his door and stuffed his hand in his pocket for his keys, eyes still locked onto his mischievous brother who was now standing in front of Mrs. Weatherby’s flat. What in Merlin’s good name was he playing at?!

Relief was short lived as Andre entered the lounge and introduced himself to Julian, as Dorian looked on from his place on the couch. He let the pair exchange niceties, but it was all over too quickly and soon Andre had scurried off to the kitchen once more, leaving Dorian and Julian alone. It was awkward, to say the least. Spending time with his brother was nothing like the time he had spent with his sister before her tragic and untimely demise. River had been warm and talkative, always taking the lead in discussions and never letting more than a few seconds pass before she interrupted the silence with a new story or topic to be considered. With Julian things did not flow quite as easily. He was nice enough, and clearly a very charming chap, but there was something about Julian that just did not sit well with the older man. Dorian told himself that he simply needed to try harder to make a connection with his brother, but he was not sure if that was really the case.

Dorian had not needed to be the leader of the expedition to create a bond between him and River, River took that on quite well. Julian, it seemed, was a bit more like Dorian in that he was more one to observe and consider silently. It was yet to be determined if the brothers shared any other personality traits, but Dorian assumed it was more their lifetime’s worth of experiences that had made them the way they are. Julian was bitten by a werewolf and had become one himself, which Merlin only knew was not a pleasant endeavor in and of itself, let alone the societal stereotypes that came with the affliction. Dorian had lost a series of people whom he had loved and ended up retreating into his own little hovel for safety and peace of mind. Neither men had had an easy life, and clearly, they had coped with it in similar ways. Unless this was all an act on Julian’s part, meant to make Dorian feel sympathetic to his younger brother’s plight. The wizengamot was still out on that one.

“Andre is an excellent chef,” Dorian confirmed. “You are in for a treat.” It was true. Dorian had mentioned to Andre on several occasions that he should consider taking cooking up as a profession, though of course the man was already retired and comfortable spending his time with his family and hobbies.

He would need to confirm first that someone could watch Ariel, and without a definitive duration at that, but Emily and Andre had yet to let him down when he had needed them. Ariel had a little cot in their home and she had stayed several nights at a time, in the past, when Dorian had been called out of town on work. He was certain that the Meadoweses would be understanding of the situation, it was more whether they had already made plans for themselves, since Dorian rarely gave up time with his niece on the weekends. “Allow me confirm with the sitter,” he said gently, watching as the man held his infant niece and lovingly stroked her cheek as if he hadn’t abandoned her for four full months. “I’ll have a precise time for you by tonight.” Dorian sipped his tea and focused his gaze on the passersby on the street on the opposite side of the window.

There was a moment of silence between the brothers again; Dorian watching Julian from the corner of his eye, and Ariel sleeping in her estranged uncle’s arms. He wouldn’t be estranged for long, Dorian could sense that much. There was an unspoken connection between Julian and Ariel that Dorian couldn’t possibly understand nor replicate. It came with being legitimate family, he assumed, and while they may have shared blood Dorian could never replace the connection to her parents that Julian would offer her. Finishing his tea, Dorian left a bit of muggle money on the table for the waitress which would cover their bill and a nice little tip for the speedy service. Although she was a witch, she was familiar enough with exchanging currency as it wouldn’t look right to be accepting ‘strange’ coins in payment at a mostly muggle shop. She was a nice enough woman, Dorian knew from the few exchanges they had had over the years.

Having packed Ariel’s things back into her nappy bag and reclined her pram so that she could sleep a bit more comfortably on the short walk back home, Dorian waited patiently for his brother to decide that he was done. There was no need to rush him, aside from Ariel’s schedule but that could be flexible for a bit of time with her family.

Dorian envied the mindset that Julian portrayed, stating that babies were simple creatures needing little more than love and food. Ariel was a good baby, fussier than most for a few months but she had recently reached a calm state in her development and she no longer cried so hard and so frequently that she made herself sick. She found happiness in simple things like her stuffed octopus and her own reflection. She was beginning to sleep longer through the night, only waking Dorian once for a bottle and quickly soothing herself to sleep again for a few more hours until Dorian had to get up anyway to get himself readied for work. He found he enjoyed being a father, ‘Daddy Dorian’ as Dorcas liked to refer to him when she was speaking with his infant niece, but it was tiring work. He got up early for his work at the Ministry where he spent most of the day, sending his patronus to check in on Ariel and Emily periodically when he had a moment. When he came home there was very little rest. Dorian wanted to ensure Ariel felt all the love her parents weren’t able to give her themselves, so it was trips to the park or the pet shop to watch the animals, tummy time on the floor with mirrors and rattles and wrinkles in his suit. She made a mess for such a tiny creature and when she had finally laid down for the night, Dorian spent his time tidying up the small flat and reviewing case files until the night finally called him as well. He wondered how much of Julian’s perception of childrearing was influenced on his own lack of a career or stability in his life.

“A mother, too,” Dorian added, finally broaching the subject that had weighed on them like a giant erumpent in the room. This wasn’t the time nor place to get into the gritty details of how River and Bert had lost their lives. They would need to plan for such a meeting, find someplace private to speak while Ariel played happily with Emily or Andre, or hades, even with Dorcas so long as Ariel wasn’t within earshot of what would be discussed. Dorian knew the babe couldn’t understand them yet, but she could sense angry tones. She was an empathetic little girl and the conversation the estranged brothers needed to have was not one to be had in front of a child. “Since you are planning on staying in town for a while, I think it best for us to have a proper discussion of what happened, at a later time. I am sure you have questions and while I do not think I have all of the answers, I have no intention on keeping any information from you.” He would take whatever blame Julian threw at him as well, for Dorian knew there was no way for the man to think anyone was at fault other than Dorian. It was, after all, what Dorian believed to be the truth, as well. “I should be able to find a sitter for our little Ariel tomorrow, if you are available.”

Dorian watched as his own arms moved, taking Ariel further and further away from the safety he provided and instead moved her closer to the unknown. As he carefully passed his niece over to her other uncle, time seemed to slow and as Dorian watched Julian with the babe it seemed the world stopped completely. There was a pressure in his chest, a tightening as adrenaline coursed through his body and his heart pounded anxiously against his chest. His well-trained eyes were fixed on his brother in a seemingly casual observation as opposed to the scrutinizing stare that it was. This small instance required every bit of undercover training Dorian had ever received. He had to stay cool, calm, and collected; take in every available detail, and maintain a casual appearance not to give anything away. The tension inside of him was killing him. The loss of River and Bert was still fresh and heartbreaking, and Dorian could not risk little Ariel ending up as her parents had.

The pressure inside of him began to slowly subside as Julian caringly comforted their niece, rocking her gently and softly humming a lullaby Dorian did not recognize. Ariel seemed to quiet under the circumstances and that equally eased some of Dorian’s concerns and simultaneously raised more questions. Julian seemed well practiced at comforting a crying infant which was surprising as Ariel was the first child in the family, as far as Dorian was aware. Surely River would have mentioned if Julian’s infrequent and sporadic visits were to due to his raising a family of his own. Dorian might have had a better opinion of the man if he had been described as anything other than a delinquent vagabond – even if River hadn’t used those exact words and had a much more loving tone when speaking of her brother.

The conversation returned as Ariel began suckling on her bottle and the topic was something Dorian was quite interested in himself. “No. No children of my own, I’m afraid.” He could not truthfully say that the lack of children in his life was due to never having found the right woman, because he had. Dorian just hadn’t had the opportunity to see through all the foolish and wonderful plans he could have imagined with Paris in his life. Thinking of her had a way of making Dorian pensive, and he needed to keep his head clear at the moment, so all thoughts of Paris were pushed aside as he remained focused on the present situation. “Ariel has been a good teacher of what I need to know, and I have other help as well.” Emily and Andre had thus far been the greatest resource of knowledge and support Dorian could have asked for in this bizarre twist of fate that left him as a surrogate father to a four month old little girl. “You seem rather comfortable with her,” Dorian noted, though really the word that best described the scene he was witnessing was ‘competent’. “Have you much experience with children?”

Dorcas set her wine glass down on the table and then placed her hand in his. His fingers lightly closed around hers as she got to her feet. Dorian noticed almost instantly that Dorcas’ hands were small and childlike compared to her cousin’s. Paris had long, elegant fingers and there were still nights when he dreamt that he had slid a ring around one of them when he had had the chance. It was one of the more unbelievable dreams he had about Paris and unlike some of the realistic ones he was accustomed to, Dorian never woke afterwards thinking for just a moment that it had been real. They had not known each other long enough for that but more importantly Dorian, despite truly wanting a family of his own, would never have asked her to spend the rest of her life wondering if he would be returning from work each day or whether one day it would be her having disappeared like his parents had. But when they danced, sometimes after those dreams he would wake up early before the sun had fully risen and he would roll over to his side, resting his hand over Paris to pull her in closer to him only to have it fall to the mattress in her absence.

Adjusting her right hand in his left, Dorian placed his right hand just above the small of her back and began to move her around the minimal open space of his lounge room. She did not seem the sort of witch to know much about formal dancing, in fact Dorian assumed that if such lessons had ever been suggested by Andre or Emily that Dorcas would simply laugh in their face. Luckily, the added movement was working the wine through Dorian’s system much faster than sitting on the sofa wallowing had done and he was beginning to truly feel the effects of his binge drinking which meant that if Dorcas were to step on his feet – ouch, yes like that – then he would probably not notice too often. The music was slower but with a discernable beat that made it easy enough for the inebriated Auror to lead.