What It Means To Be

by spinner

2

"I was reading in the manual about Mordred," Harry said over the boxes and mounds of children's clothes that were spread across one of the empty offices at Grimwood Library.  Potter had posted a notice on the bulletin board next to the circulation desk asking for donations, and the response had been very encouraging. 

"What manual is that?" Severus asked.

"Caring for Infants and Toddlers: A Modern Wizard's Guide to Fatherhood.  I mentioned it before."

"You have indeed, on several occasions."

"I couldn't help but overhear you and Grandfather Orpheus worrying that Mordred wasn't using enough words yet, and I wanted to let you know that on the average, he's right where he should be for a child of almost fourteen months."

"I see," Snape murmured, trying not to show his amusement.  He was wishing not for the first time that Madam Grimwood, or Bellatrix Lestrange in the guise of Madam Grimwood, had never sent Potter that childcare handbook.  It must have been Bellatrix.  It had to have been Lestrange—Madam Grimwood would never have been so cruel as to continue to scare Harry with the spectre of possible impotence.  Besides, reading a single, silly handbook does not make one an expert on the children, that much was certain.  Severus visually searched through the mounds of clothes, and spotted Mordred in the pile of socks.  Mordred rolled up onto his seat, laughing, with a sock in each hand.  He compared the two, and stuck the most delicious one in his mouth.  Severus cringed, and Harry brushed off his concerns.

"Don't worry.  All the clothes have been thoroughly-cleaned.  I taught Spit how to use the washer and dryer.  He's in love.  He's busy upstairs figuring out how to fit the hallway carpet into the machines.  I told him it would never work, but he's dying to give it a go." 

"How are you powering these Muggle devices?"

"My secret!" Harry exclaimed.  He was doing an impression of Sparks, so she must be in some way responsible for helping him produce the power, Severus decided.  Something to do with conduit magic, perhaps??  "Mordred isn't behind for his age.  If you keep talking like that, you're going to give him a complex.  Having Ducky around is helping him tremendously, and also, the manual said it helps if you talk with your child.  Using words with him; full words, not baby talk; using full words with him will help build his vocabulary."

"I'll keep that in mind," Severus offered politely.  Harry knew he was being humored, and tossed a small shirt over at the Potions Master.  "Whisper will be here in an hour to collect him," Snape reminded Potter. 

"Is it that late?  Maybe I should bundle him up and take him back to her already, so she doesn't have to go out in the cold."

"Entirely up to you," Severus replied, putting the bunny-covered shirt back into the box at Potter's knees.  "My apprentice and I will not return until very late tonight.   I'm hopeful that I've found a patch of cold-blooming night-creepers in the Dark Forest, and we'll be attempting to harvest a seed or two or cultivation in the greenhouse."

"Ah," Harry said, wanting to hide his frown.  It seemed to him that Draco and Severus had been out nights pretty darned often lately, but rather than make a scene in front of Teddy, who was doing her best to make herself unobtrusive, Harry held his tongue, and in effect his temper, at least for the time being.  Besides, he needed Severus's help with his planned Christmas gift for Draco, and he didn't want to alienate either of them with the wrong words at the wrong time. 

The office fireplace exploded with green flames and bright lights, and Hermione bounced out, landing in a pile of blankets with a tiny squeak.  Mordred laughed with excitement, bouncing up and down in his pile of socks. 

"Oh, dear, that was awkward," Granger whispered, rearranging her hair.  "Family squabble," she cringed, shutting the Floo as the voices from the other end began to rise.  "Brim found out that Mr. Stoneburne gave Burnie permission to get a job.  She hit the roof."

"Cancelling Christmas?" Harry asked with a worried smile. 

"No, but I wouldn't take flammable materials near Brim for a few days, because she's making everything spontaneously combust!  Vixen had to take her outside and douse her with water several times."

"She has her mother's looks and her father's temper," Teddy said from her spot before a box of clothes for newborns.  "More's the pity.  If only matters were the other way around."

"Owen's looks and Vixen's temper?" Harry questioned. 

"No.  Rather that Burnie had been the first child, and Brim had been the second child.  It might have changed both their temperaments," Teddy said, picking up a small blue dress and becoming entranced by its intricate bows and ribbon trim.   There was no denying the longing that crossed her face.  Severus looked away, not wanting to intrude on her pain, and Hermione was suddenly very interested in her fingernails.  Harry couldn't let the moment pass.  He felt Teddy's pain most acutely, and wanted to offer either kindness or distraction, and perhaps both.

"Could I have that?  Sad story," Harry said, walking over to Teddy.  "Their baby girl was stillborn.  The father quickly boxed up all the clothes he had bought and hid them in the attic.  Their next child was a boy.  He wanted to give away the girl clothes so as not to upset his wife with the constant reminder, but she wouldn't hear of it.  She kept that dress for six years and three more boys before she decided it was cursed, and she'd better get rid of it if she ever wanted to have a daughter.  I promised her I would see it was exorcised before I gave it away.  I should have pulled it aside.  Sorry."

"Each piece here must have a tale to tell," Hermione pondered as Harry picked up the blue dress from Teddy's stiff grip.  Morgenrot was whispering an oath under her breath.  She did everything short of crossing herself, giving Harry the purportedly-hexed dress. 

"Not all of them," Harry shrugged, vanishing the article of clothing.  Severus had to wonder in that instant if Harry had not manufactured the dark tale in order to distract Teddy from her melancholy.   It was becoming more obvious to everyone around them that Teddy was taking Vixen's latest pregnancy very hard.  She was sinking into a dark depression, into a veritable abyss. 

Mordred grabbed Potter's ankle as he went past, sliding one wet sock around his skin.  Harry picked Mordred up, made a few airplane noises while spinning him around, and then pulled him close in a tight hug.  Severus plucked the moistened socks off of the toddler's hands, making a face at the boy.

"I must be leaving.  Draco will be back from his shoppe in under an hour.  Don't forget about Whisper," Snape said, stroking the back of Mordred's head and then the back of Harry's.   "Do keep him out of the Egypt Room."

Harry's temper would not be quieted this time. 

"We are not even on the same floor," he snapped testily. 

"Still in yet," Severus continued.

"He's not going to swallow another scarab, all right?  Let it go."

" 'Let it go'?" Severus echoed.  "Mr. Potter, when I spend four wee hours of the morning in the emergency ward at St. Mungo's while medi-wizards have to retrieve a 3000-year-old piece of jade from the insides of a child for whom I am legally and morally responsible, the memory tends to stick in my mind for a long time."

"I was shelving books!  I looked away for five seconds!" Harry growled.  "He's fine!"

"Thanks to Doctor Beaulieu, he's fine."

As if sensing the tension between Severus and Harry, Mordred got terribly quiet.  His jubilant laughter silenced, and he frowned hard at Severus.  Perhaps Harry was projecting his own thoughts to the toddler.  Mordred balled up one fist and hit Severus square on the nose.  Hermione rushed forth with a gasp, and Teddy came forward too.  Harry pulled Mordred back from Severus and scolded the boy tenderly.

"Bad Mordred.  Bad Mordred," Harry intoned.

"Dodgy bwat," Severus muttered, holding his bruised proboscis and waving both Hermione and Teddy away.  The words came out garbled, and Harry wasn't sure if they were directed at Mordred and at himself.    

"Suppose I best get you back to Whisper before you turn into a pumpkin.  Where did we leave your coat?  Hmm?" Harry said to Mordred, flashing the end of his tongue at Severus before fleeing from the clothing-cluttered office. 

Hermione was quick on Harry's tail, but Teddy lingered behind for a few seconds.  She murmured a word or two to Severus, prying his hands away from his nose in order to look him over.  As Hermione and Mordred and he were riding upstairs in the metal-framework elevator, Harry watched Teddy healing Severus's face.  Snape caught him smiling and frowned up in his general direction.

"You coming over to Ravensrood with me?" Harry asked Hermione as the elevator stopped on last floor it reached, and they piled out. 

A group of college students from M & M were tittering and chattering outside the elevator, and although they greeted Harry with enthusiasm, and cooed sweetly over Mordred, not a one of them greeted Hermione with anything more than cold disdain.  One of them glanced Hermione up and down, giggling about her clothing choices, apparently.  Granger brushed it off easily, but Harry glanced at the elevator filled with over-dressed and highly-perfumed creatures, and suddenly hated them with an intensity that he rarely felt these days. 

"It's all right, Harry," Hermione whispered, dragging him away from the elevator door before anything unexpected or electrical could happen.  A storm gathered in Harry's eyes.  Horrifying visions of plummeting lifts danced in Hermione's head.  She tapped her wand on the wall that led to the living quarters, telling Harry, "We ought to put a picture and password up here, for goodness sake.  It's been months."

"Those girls were so rude to you!" Harry whispered as they disappeared upstairs into their shared living space away from Hogwarts.  Floor to ceiling bookcases lined the front area.  There was barely enough room for the large sectional divan, piled with mismatched pillows and throws and such.  Scarlet and gold colors abounded everywhere.  Stone griffins adorned the fireplace mantle also decorated with a wireless radio, several pictures, and a prominent portrait of Harry, Ron, and Hermione from their first year at Hogwarts.  The sound of a churning clothes washer could be heard in the distance.  Spit was walking down the hallway with an armful of socks fresh from the dryer, humming happily to himself.  Sparks was in the kitchen, but upon hearing Harry's voice, she came slowly around the corner with a hot cookie sheet in her mitted hands. 

"You get used to it," Hermione murmured. 

"But they were rude," Harry continued.

"It's all right, Harry." 

"Mr. Potter wants to try the new recipe?" Sparks invited, smiling tiredly at him.  Harry delicately pulled a slightly-rounded lump from the sheet, careful not to burn his fingers.  Mordred tried to reach for the shining, silver surface, but Sparks yanked it back, getting several feet away.  Harry took a bite of the dripping, warm cookie, and Mordred snatched the rest from him, shoving it into his own mouth.  They were spice cookies of some sort—delicious. 

"Mm.  Oh.  Those are fantastic! What did you add?"

"Pinch of this, pinch of that," Sparks said vaguely.   She guarded her cooking secrets like galleons. 

Mordred appeared to second Harry's opinion.  He hummed mmmm's to himself while smearing his mouth and looking expectantly at Sparks.  Hermione helped herself to a sample, and gave another one to Mordred. 

"If Mr. Potter is going back out, he could stop at the bakery for me?" Sparks asked.  She yawned, her small mouth a surprisingly-large chasm of teensy teeth.  Harry looked immediately to Spit, who seated himself on the ottoman and folded socks together randomly.

"No more laundry today.  Sparks is exhausted," Harry ordered. 

"Oh," Spit sounded his disappointment, giving his fellow house elf an accusing frown.  Sparks yawned again. 

"What do you need from the bakery?" Harry asked her. 

"A half dozen corn muffins for stuffing.  Mr. Potter is sure he wants to feed orphans with his Christmas Eve dinner?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter is sure," Harry nodded.  "Anything else?"

"No," Sparks replied, her eyes drooping.

"I mean it.  No more laundry," Harry told Spit. 

"Perhaps a cup of tea would help perk you up?" Spit suggested to Sparks. 

"No more laundry," Harry repeated firmly.  "Cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye.  No more laundry."

"Mr. Potter!  No torture!  I won't touch the washies.  I swear!  I swear!"  Spit exclaimed, sobbing suddenly, running over to clutch Harry's knee.  

"Who said anything about torture?" Harry wondered, giving Hermione a confused look when she tittered at him. 

"You had better listen," she told Spit in mock anger. 

"I will listen!  I will listen!"

"No more washies today," Hermione insisted, hands on hips. 

"I'll put these away then," Spit said, drying his face, grabbing up the socks, and running from the front area. 

"What did I say?" Harry asked Hermione as Sparks gave another cookie to Mordred and wandered sleepily back to the kitchen.

"It really is a scary nursery rhyme, if you listen to it," she laughed softly. 

"It's nonsense.  It's just words.  Those girls who were rude to you, I could ban them from the library if you want.  You don't have to put up with people treating you badly," Harry offered. 

"Harry, if you banished everyone from the library who looks at me crossways, especially jealous co-eds from M & M, you'd hardly have any foot traffic at all," Hermione laughed to herself again.  "Haven't you noticed how they loiter about, waiting for the chance to see you, perhaps corner you for a conversation?"

Harry had of course noticed, and was shivering with alarm which he did not hide very well.  He was terribly glad that Hermione had ridden up in the elevator with him, even if she had had to walk a gauntlet of female disapproval upon exit.   That was the kind of bravery and patience that set his friend apart from that type of girl though.  Hermione could handle adversity and dislike, whereas Harry suspected those other young women would have crumbled at once if the roles were reversed.  They were decorative, yes, but hardly durable. 

Hermione grabbed Mordred's brown coat and wrapping the toddler up inside the warmth.   She pulled up his hood with floppy bunny ears, but Mordred batted at it impatiently.  Was it possible for a toddler to be embarrassed by his clothes?   

"But they shouldn't be allowed to be rude to you.  You belong here.  You live here.  They don't.  I've never seen a one of them borrow a book.  All they do is come in to stare at me," Harry said finally.

"They and their friends lurk on this floor all the time, hoping to see you go by, coming or going.  We need to block the entrance with more than a password and touch spell.  We need a portal guardian, soon.  Mind if I pop into the bakery too?" 

"Welcome the company.  Vixen loves Sandy's eel soup," Harry confided.  Hermione was confused by the talk of soup but nodded along.  Spit came back in the room, wringing his empty hands and getting closer to Harry as though nervous of him.

"No more washies, I promise," Spit sniffed.  "But what am I to do, Mr. Potter?"

"Have you taken any breaks today?" Harry asked.

"I was busy."

"You're supposed to take a fifteen minute break every three hours.   How long have you been working?"

"Not long."

"How long?" Harry insisted.

"Since this morning."

"That's at least twelve hours!" Harry exclaimed.  "You will come in here, sit in a warm spot by the fire, and relax for at least an hour.  Would you like the wireless on?  Sparks will come rest too.  Did you hear that?  Put down whatever you're doing in the kitchen and come take your break."

Sparks appeared again, arms wet to the elbows.

"Doing dishies," she explained around a yawn. 

"Dishies will wait.  You have to take your breaks.  Have you taken a break all day?"

"I…..no."

"Don't make me by a time clock," Harry frowned.   "You go sit on the couch too.  With some pillows.  Near the fire.  Go on now," Harry pointed.  Sparks' ears drooped, but she went to the fireplace and sat down before it.  "That's not the couch.  That's the area rug.  On the couch.  Right now," Harry pointed.  Sparks climbed up next to Spit.  They huddled side by side, and they stared at Potter as he came over to them. 

"We will sit for at least a few minutes," Spit promised.

"That's not nearly enough pillows," Harry fussed.  He put Mordred down on the floor for a second and rounded up more pillows, and two throws as well.  Harry surrounded the house elves both with pillows and covered them with the throws.  He turned around to the mantel and flipped the radio on, swishing through several stations before finding a cheerful Christmas music station. 

"It's very comfy, Mr. Harry," Sparks mumbled. She tipped to the side and then fell asleep as if struck by sudden narcolepsy.

"How many loads of laundry did you do?" Harry whispered to Spit. 

"Twenty eight," Spit replied.  Harry gasped and Hermione echoed him. 

"No washies tomorrow," Harry warned Spit sternly.  Hermione was laughing again.

"But what am I do?" Spit worried. 

"I'll find something else for you to do.  Just one load a day from now on.  That's all.  No more all-day washies.  You'll zap Sparks out."

"Only one load a day?" Spit sobbed, devastated.

"I mean it," Harry chided him in a whisper.   He straightened up in front of the cackling Hermione.  "Why don't we walk to the bakery?  It's not that far."

"Love to," Hermione chuckled. 

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