Chapter Text
Evening's Prologue
London, 22nd of December, 1926
On this cold night of December, the sky’s orange and golden hues have faded and only the barest light remains. The forming shadows are already beginning to tower over the few unlucky to still be on the streets. Such persons are the truly desperate, the ones that life has beaten over and over till nothing remains other than mostly empty shells. Keeping just enough intelligence to keep functioning, they are only a step above soulless automats. These lonely souls barely feel joy anymore, preferring to forsake it to avoid the crushing despair that’ll be the last straw. After all, what is more hurtful than to hope -so strongly it feels your whole body- just to see your hopes be crushed in front of your very own eyes? To be only moments away of finally, finally escaping this growing pit of despair and self-depreciation you had to dig for yourself just to fail, again? No, there’s nothing worse than that. So why would the coming new year’s celebrations matter? It’s not as if the coming year will bring any change. The poor will stay poor and the rich will stay rich. There’s nothing really worth fighting for anymore so the day is just another day. Except, for a hunched silhouette toddling with great difficulty away from a dingy street, just a few blocks away from a seemingly innocuous pub named The Leaky cauldron.
Pregnant to the eyes, Merope of House Gaunt cannot give up: her darling baby’s so close to being birthed, she has to win the fight for his life! So, she keeps walking away from the magical world she’s never been able to be part of, past the neighborhood where she enjoyed an ideal but ephemeral married life (Tom, oh tom, how she still loves him so much), and to the suburbs where she may find some abandoned house to shield herself for the night.
Kick, kick, kick.
Her baby (she’s sure he’s a boy) has never been more active and it’s sufficient to help her ignore the gnawing hunger, the heaviness of her limbs. When was the last time she could safely sleep more than a few minutes, without any worries for her future? The two nights at the Leaky, dearly bought by selling her locket (the only remain of her tattered family pride, curse Borgin, this damn swindler!), are nothing more than an already faded memory. She knows that if she stops now, for only the briefest moments, she’ll never be able to get up again. So, she walks. And, at last, her resilience is rewarded, her prayers answered when she hears soft music filling the street. A house, there’s a house whose inhabitants are awake. The soft tones are enchanting, but not as wonderful as the Victorian townhouse they led her to, the lights casting a reassuring glow. An ornate door, ornated by a traditional Christmas crown, is framed by a brick facade covered by a dark green ivy. The house seems to have been taken straight from a page of Alice in Wonderland and she‘s ready to jump into the hole. Up close, she can see the crown’s base are thick pine branches intertwined with holly whose fruits are as red as blood and with dainty white winter roses.
Knock, knock, knock.
The music stops. Nobody moves. The silence seems to last a lifetime, no an eternity. Should she knock again? Should she go away to spare herself the indignity to have a door closed in her face or, worse, stay unopened?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Small footsteps, ringing like the bells announcing the Lord’s birth, are approaching, and then, the heavy sturdy door finally opens, the light revealing a fae-like being.
“Yes?”
Twilight has always been his favourite moment. It’s a moment of peace, of tranquillity after a long and tumultuous day. It’s also the moment where the light turns into darkness, a moment of transition, where everything seems possible. Especially close to the New Year. Even though faint, the traces are everywhere, even the trees seem to shudder in anticipation of the new year. But, tonight, there’s something more. Hadrian is not quite sure of what, but he can practically taste it in the air. His whole body seems to vibrate. He’s already inspected his whole townhouse twice. To no avail. He can’t settle. And there’s nothing unusual. Well, except the deep silence. A reverent one, as if the three wise men were praying and waiting for Jesus to be born. Something important, life-changing will happen. But, is he ready?
No matter, fate doesn’t like to be denied, struggling won’t matter: what needs to happen will happen. Resolve settled, Hadrian finally can sit and, to further unwind, choose to play his beloved wooden flute. With delicate carvings, the base covered in small roses, this flute is a thing of beauty. A sentimental heirloom too. He still can remember when daddy gifted it to him when he was but a small boy of 8 years. During the blessed peaceful days of childhood. Oh, if only there were some means to go back in time... More than a decade later, the memories are still so very bittersweet. Hadrian, surrounded by the aroma of the Christmas spices, has lost himself in his memories. Until several deep knocks reverberate through the house. While casting a glance at the chimney clock, he frowns, who could be disturbing him? He knows he’s not expecting someone. And nobody would dare come unannounced. Well, even though he would like to, the person doesn’t seem to intend to be ignored. With a deep sigh, he leaves his cosy settee and goes to open the door.
“Yes?”
“Please, help me! Just a couple of nights, till I give birth. Please, I can help around the house!”
Well, he wasn’t expecting that. A bedraggled woman, dark hair unkempt and greasy, clothes full of holes, looking so very filthy and tired. Except for her eyes, pleading and brimming with tears, are still full of hope and determination. What a contradiction. He really would like to be able to offer shelter, to help her, and be charitable. But he doesn’t have any medical training and he’s never done well with people suddenly invading his space. And the servants and house elves are nearly all gone on holiday.
“I’m truly sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to help...”
The distress appearing in her gaze is crushing, and he really hates himself at this moment. But she should go to a hospital. He’s ready to put an end to the conversation by recommending her to some hospital for the poor he knows. Until, as sudden as a thunderstruck, someone’s magic is grabbing his own. And not just grabbing it but holding it tightly. Possessively. This... can’t be! She couldn’t be... She’s not powerful enough, and certainly not the right type for him. Unless... His gaze drops to her belly and he knows, he can feel it in his very bones, his very soul. So many years later, finally, finally, his soulmate has come. And so, there’s only one course to take.
“Wait! I forgot, but I do have a room ready to use. One of my servants had to leave on a family emergency. It’s not much but ....”
“Thank you so much!! I’ll repay you; you won’t regret it, I promise”.
Oh, but I’m already not regretting it, he thought while letting her enter and closing the door. Not while his baby soulmate’s magic still hasn’t let go. He has a feeling it’s going to be a trend. Oh well, he’ll go along. Some things are worth it, aren’t they?