InsaneJournal

Fabian had put together a hearty dinner of Welsh rarebit with bacon and tomato for Tristan. The flat was the same one he'd lived in before Tristan had left England, and although some of the furnishings had changed, much was the same, including Fabian's piano, which took up much of what would have been the living room had it not been mostly a music room. There were two chairs set comfortably before the fire, though, and a table between for the sweet, and that was where Fabian had settled the two of them after the meal, having deferred all serious conversation until after they'd eaten.

"Don't worry," Fabian said, offering Tristan some of the little macarons. "I didn't get them from my nephews."

Tristan was slowly settling into life back in England. He'd found a place to live- a small cottage in the countryside, and though he hadn't officially accepted any jobs, he was still mulling his options and trying to decide on what to do next. Still, he wasn't in any rush, and he was pleased for the opportunity to catch up with his family. He'd enjoyed the meal Fabian had provided, and settled comfortably in the chair near the fire. He had just picked up a macaron as Fabian spoke, lifting an eyebrow. "Your neph- oh. The twins?"

He'd heard of the boys' antics, but hadn't seen the boys since they were small. "I didn't even think of that. I suppose I just thought we're both a little old for those kinds of pranks..."

"You and I are. But their shop is right down the Alley from my office, though, and I spend time there, and they're not too old." Fabian's grin was fond. "They made sweets for some holiday recently. I'm careful with them, though. No food from the shop, and no pygmy puffs."

"So tell me all about things, and I'll catch you up on whatever you'd like to know that I know about." It was an open-ended query, to let Tristan pick his topic and tell Fabian whatever he felt like, while avoiding sensitive subjects. Fabian popped one of the little macarons into his mouth, leaving an open space for Tristan to speak.

"Oh, don't get me started on the pygmy puffs," Tristan replied with a laugh. "Jo sent me a couple of them for Valentine's day and they just flitter around the cottage, trying to trip me up." He shook his head. "I still need to name the little buggers, I suppose."

Tristan took a bite of his macaron and leaned back in his seat. "Merlin, where to begin? I still don't know what I'm going to do now that I'm back. I did find a place to live- I'll leave you the address so you can drop by if you ever want or need to."

"Oh, definitely." Fabian accioed quill and parchment from his study to let Tristan do just that.

"Sounds like you're here to stay, then. I thought you might decide to go out-of-country again. It's a difficult time to be in Britain right now for anyone of a--how shall we say?--politically liberal bent." Fabian made a face at that understatement. "As for work, I assume it'll be back to Mungo's for you, if you'll have them. Or, honestly, with a family name like yours, you could probably go into private practice and fill your vault to the brim if you could put up with the sort of patients you'd be likely to get. I reckon that's not for you, though."

Tristan took the quill Fabian offered and leaned over to write out the address for his cousin. He nodded as he sat back in his seat and reached for his mug, bringing it up for a sip. "Mmm. Yes, well, I had thought about it, but the program won't take me back, and I was thinking that maybe it was time to stop running."

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "No, if I go into private practice, I want to make healthcare more accessible to the public, not make it any more elitist. I've been thinking, and I have a few options, so I'm not completely lost. There's time for me to make a decision."

"I'm glad you have options, at least. As for the rest, I know there would be people who would be happy to have some form of healthcare that didn't involve Mungo's and didn't cost an arm and a leg." Fabian flashed Tristan a slightly rueful grin. "With all due respect to St Mungo's, which is an institution full of accomplished healers, I number myself among them. Since I got out, I've found myself reluctant to deal with--institutional settings--if you will." Which was as close as Fabian would come to answering Tristan's comment about running.

"I know what you mean. And I understand- it's one of the things that's holding me back from accepting something with them right away." Tristan sighed, leaning back in his seat. "I was thinking of working from home, or making home visits." He took another sip of his tea, then set his mug to the side. "If there's anything I can ever help you with, too, let me know."

"I appreciate that. Edgar Bones has been seeing to me when I need it since I took up maintaining the Hogwarts wards. Fortunately my lifestyle isn't such that I need a lot of care these days beyond the occasional pepper-up potion." Or at least it hadn't been until things had started with the Order again. Fabian had always known there was a risk someone would come after him. Now he deemed it a certainty. "While I'm technically on staff, I stay well away from the students, except for the ones I'm related to. Keeps me from catching whatever sweeps through the school. Which reminds me--I don't want to dig into old bad memories too closely, and I wouldn't ask without a reason, but--have you heard anything from, or about, your brother since you got back?"

Tristan nodded slowly. "I remember him mentioning that you were working on the wards at Hogwarts these days. Or keeping up with them, at least. And that makes sense." He paused a moment, surprised as Fabian brought up his brother. "Harold? No, not at all. You know he left as soon as he grew old enough, and I never could find him. What brings that up?"

Fabian was in mid-bite of a macaron, which he used to buy himself enough time to figure out exactly how to phrase what he had to say. After a moment, in which he'd swallowed the mouthful of biscuit, he came up with, "I met a student over the Christmas holiday who didn't go home. She ended up at Molly's with the lot of us. Her name's Hannah Abbott and Molly and I both think she looks like Mum. And it turns out that her father's name is Harold."

Tristan fell quiet, watching his cousin's face as he spoke. His eyes widened in surprise at the name and he shifted a little in his seat. "Do you really think- I mean. I suppose it's possible, but I guess I'd never thought…" He fell quiet for a moment, reaching for his tea. "If she didn't go home, I wonder if Harold's treating her the way he treated the rest of the family…" He frowned slightly. "I mean. Assuming her father's the same Harold."

"She was at the school because she couldn't go home, apparently. And Merlin knows that runs in the family." Which was about all Fabian wanted to say about that.

"I had no idea." Tristan felt suddenly guilty for not being in the country, for not trying harder to find his brother, for not being there… He shook his head a little, suddenly thinking he could go for a scotch or something right about now. But no- that wasn't the way to handle things. "Do you know much about her?"

"Not much. She's seventh year, and a Hufflepuff. Prefect, I think. Blonde, pretty. Pleasant and polite. I took a bit of time to talk to her because I wondered about her. Not a lot, though, because honestly it's a bit odd for a bloke of my age to talk to a girl of hers in more than passing. You know?" Fabian made an awkward face and then finished the macaron, to give him time to phrase the next bit, because this was another thing Tristan probably needed to know. "And the reason I started wondering about her is that there were a couple of--lists--that came out in December. Her name was on one of them."

Tristan exhaled slowly, but nodded a little. "Yes. Yes, I know. I- huh. Sorry, this- this is a lot to take in." He sat up a little, reaching for his mug and finishing off his tea before dropping his hands back to his lap. "I should probably reach out to her. Especially if she's not going home for the holidays…"

Fabian, who had got used to being the bearer of bad tidings, reached over to give Tristan a momentary steadying hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't take a quick decision on this, not with everything else happening. She's got to be seventeen now, or right on the edge of it, which means she doesn't need a guardian. At the very least, you need to sleep on it. Right?"

"Well, no, I don't mean- I mean, if she needed it, certainly, but I'd still like a chance to be there or something, if she needs somebody. But you're right- I should let it sink in, then maybe reach out, speak with her and just..see." Tristan offered the faintest of smiles, grateful for the steadying hand.

"That sounds like a good plan to me. Isn't that what you'd tell a patient coming off a serious illness who got this kind of news?" Which Fabian thought ought to send Tristan off down another tangent so he wouldn't dwell on this for the rest of the night. "And let me refresh your tea while I'm thinking about it."