For Mel, who inspired me to get on and write this. Fifteen: Bellicose
Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed. He had heard this plea several times before. He looked at the other people in the room, trying to assess how to respond while knowing that he actually had only one choice.
“Minister, please. They are not evil men, they have been manipulated into acting in an evil way.”
Teddy Lupin’s jaw was set, his hands balled into fists. His breath came in short bursts, his anger rising. He had not heard the plea before. The blonde woman sitting in front of them was prematurely aged, her features haggard, the dark circles under her eyes making her look ill. Hermione placed her hand on one of his fists, trying to make his fingers relax. He looked up at her, slightly shocked to see that she was clearly as angry as him. Her hair seemed to crackle with electricity, her expression grave.
“They were always impressionable boys, they were always easily led.”
Kingsley interlaced his fingers, taking a deep breath.
“Madame Eastman, please, stop. Your sons attacked two ministry employees, almost killing them both and endangered the life of a fourteen year old child. Easily led or not, they are a danger not only to the magical community but to the muggle one too. Once they have served their sentence here, we will hand them over to the French Ministry to face charges there too.”
Teddy nodded firmly. In his opinion, the Eastman twins should rot in Azkaban, never seeing the light of day again. He closed his eyes, the image of Amelia on the kitchen floor, half dead, burned inside his eyelids.
“NO! You can’t do that! Blaise, tell them! They can’t do it!” Louhi Eastman seized Blaise Zabini’s hand, her nails piercing the skin. Blaise, still slender, still aloof and still deeply prejudiced against anyone who was not pure-blood, had managed up to that point to not show a flicker of emotion but this physical contact seemed to be the tipping point. “Louhi, please.” Blaise prized her fingers off his hand, scarlet scratches gleaming against his dark skin. “The Minister has made his position clear. Perhaps his position is unduly influenced by the heritage of your sons.”
Teddy gripped the arm of his chair, willing Kingsley to speak, willing Harry and Hermione to speak. He was not to be disappointed.
Kingsley’s expression became closed where before he had been attempting to be understanding. The hairs on the back of Teddy’s neck stood up as a shiver of anticipation ran through him. When he spoke, Kingsley laid his hands out flat on the antique mahogany desk, and spoke with precision. “Mr Zabini, do not presume that I or the Ministry are judging this case on anything but the facts. I will not summarily overturn any sentence handed down by the Wizengamot, to do so would undermine the basis of our community. You were both well aware of my position, of the Ministry’s position on this matter when this consultation was arranged as we have had this discussion before, on more than one occasion. The position of the ministry on this matter has not, will not and cannot change.” He stood up abruptly and strode over to the door. Wrenching it open, he looked at the pair, the haughty black wizard and the ravaged blonde witch “Unless you have definitive proof which will contradict the testimony of dozens of witnesses, the boastful confessions of your sons and the details from their memories, we have nothing further to discuss.” His words were ice cold and final.
Louhi wailed. “They are good boys! They grew up without their father!”
Harry finally spoke. “Madame Eastman, you cannot continue to blame Theodore for this. This is not his doing.” It was true, had Theodore Nott lived to see his sons grow up, he might have raised them to think for themselves rather than to blindly follow the rantings of others.
“That’s right.” Hermione confirmed. “Tyr and Quirrinus must be held accountable for their own actions. There is no other course of action avaliable.”
Anger flashed in Blaise’s eyes. He glared at Hermione. “How dare-” He broke off, perhaps realising that completing his sentence was not advisable. Standing up just as abruptly as Kingsley, he pulled Louhi to her feet. “We’d better leave now Louhi, before you and I are imprisoned for breathing in the wrong direction.”
If it was possible, Louhi paled further at Blaise’s words. This had been her last, most desperate hope. As the last of the blood left her face she looked grey. She launched herself at Kingsley, scrabbling at his robes, face and neck, her nails raising welts on his skin. Her breath came in deep, ragged bursts. “You, you, you... have to let them GO!”
Harry and Teddy had started out of their seats but before they could act, Kingsley seized her by the wrists, pushing her away from him, none too gently, his nostrils flared. She stumbled backwards into Blaise, who caught her. A tense silence stretched in the room, punctuated only by Louhi’s sobs. Glaring at Kingsley and the others, Blaise steered her from the room. Kingsley closed the door quietly and looked at Teddy, blood tricking from a deep scratch that Louhi had managed to inflict under his eye. “That woman...” He sighed, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping away the blood, going to sit back behind his desk. “I never thought that motherly love could be so...” Kingsley, usually so eloquent and never stuck for something to say raised his hands in defeat, unable to complete his sentence.
“From what I’ve seen, watching Amelia,” Teddy said carefully, a sudden lump in his throat at the thought of his own mother, his hair turning a traitorous shade of pink for a few moments before he mastered the emotion, “Motherly love is endless. For Madame Eastman, it has just become... distorted.”
Hermione nodded sagely and Harry gave a derisive snort, but didn’t comment. They all knew that Teddy was being rather kind. Louhi Eastman’s view of her sons was so far removed from the reality of who they were, a person might wonder if she had ever actually met them before, let alone raised them. Silence fell between them again, each of them apparently contemplating the short meeting.
“Do you want me to sort those scratches out boss?” Teddy finally broke the silence, twirling his wand between his fingers.
Kingsley gave a deep, rumbling chuckle. “It’s okay. I think I’ll leave them, remind Cora that I’m still an action hero.”
“Well, that is why she married you.” Harry quipped. The four of them laughed, the tension in the room ebbing away.
*****
Remus was cheating.
“One, two, skip a few, ninety-nine, one hundred! COMING READY OR NOT!”
He ran after the others, trying to catch up with them before they found good hiding places. It was easier to find the auburn haired-hiders so he chased after them, trying to grab someone, anyone, before they managed to scrabble up a tree or dive down into a hollow. He was so focused on catching his prey that he didn’t notice the tree root that was sticking up, the tree root the others had all remembered to jump over. He caught his foot in it and fell face first into the dirt, knocking out one of his milk teeth.
“OWWW!”
He lay in the dirt and cried, the shock of hitting the forest floor gripping him. He heard feet behind him and rolled over to see who it was.
“You’re just like your grandmother, do you know that kiddo?” Ron lifted Remus up and the small boy put his head on Ron’s shoulder. Ron rubbed his back and Remus’ sobs subsided.
Ron turned to carry Remus back to Lupin Cottage, shouting over his shoulder; “Come on you lot, tea time!”
The children ran back to the cottage, giggling and whooping as they raced past Ron. Amelia was standing in the kitchen doorway when Ron and Remus arrived there. She ran her hand over Remus’ hair. “My accident prone boy. You need to be careful, what would I do without you?”
Remus blinked. “Don’t be silly! I’m not going no where!”
*****
Hermia sat in an airy muggle cafe reading, her cup long since emptied, the pastry she had bought long since forgotten. She murmured the words she was reading:
“...And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.--
And are you grown so high in his esteem
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.”
The waiter placed a a cup of coffee on the table and without looking up she said “Nine, Umm, no, I didn’t order anything. Umm, Ich nicht nichts, danke.”
“I know you didn’t order it Smith.”
Hermia froze. That voice was startlingly familiar. She looked up slowly and realised that it wasn’t a waiter at all.
“What are you doing in Berlin?”
“It’s good to see you too.”
“Seriously Djalili, what are you doing here?”
Ashtad sat down. “The same as you I imagine.”
Hermia’s nostrils flared. “I didn’t-”
“Ask me to sit down? No, but I’ll forgive your slip in manners, just this once.” Ashtad’s eye sparkled with amusement. He was enjoying having surprised her so much. “Jago told me where you were. He seemed to think that you and I needed to clear the air.”
Hermia pursed her lips for a moment. “Did he? Not that it’s any of his concern. How about you, what did you think?”
Ashtad smiled at her. “I think he just wants you to be happy. As for me, I’m confused.”
Hermia folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sure that you are but you’ll have to narrow it down Djalili, I haven’t got all afternoon.”
Ashtad sighed. “Well, that day in the attrium, what happened?”
Heat crept into Hermia’s cheeks, a flattering pink creeping into her cheeks.
“You happened, when you saw her.”
Ashtad frowned. “I happened? What did I do?”
Hermia gulped. “Sometimes, if you have to ask, then you’ll never understand.” She snapped her book closed and stood up, knocking the coffee into Ashtad’s lap accidentally. Ashtad swore violently as the hot liquid made contact with his skin. He tried to subtly siphon the coffee off himself with his wand, which was not easy since every eye was on the two of them. When he looked up, Hermia had gone. He darted out of the cafe, scanning the crowd for her but as he had already found to his cost, Hermia found it very easy to melt away in a crowd. He gripped his hair tightly, as though he might be trying to pull it out. He looked around him, feeling utterly lost.
And then it hit him. “She’s jealous!” He laughed with relief, startling a passerby who stared at him as though he was crazy. “Oh merlin! She’s jealous! She must think... Ha!” A wide grin of triumph spread across Ashtad’s face. “She’s jealous!”
Louhi seems like a lovely name... hmm, but I don't really do that, do I? 
Hermia is reading A Midsummer Night's Dream. I know I'm cheesy, but I couldn't resist it!
In German, she says "No, I didn't order anything, thank you"
Just in case anyone missed it:
I need to say a massive thank you to everyone who nominated me for the Golden Goblins. Getting nominated four times, and for both stories feels amazing, I'm so happy.
If you'd like to vote for me, I was nominated for:
Best Orignal Plot, for both Bright Lights and Tempestuous.
Best Conflict, for Teddy Lupin and John Smith
Best Mature Story, for Bright Lights
Thank you so much, I have to admit that it brought more than one happy tear to my eyes to be nominated.