He was brown with white spots and drooled a bit too much. Even so, Iwin squished the face of the stray dog, making growly noises to TEST if he was nice or not.

“Masters Iwin, I don’t thinks your Mum will approve—“ squeaked Boucle. The house elf was just as young as Iwin, but wiser.

The dog wagged his tail. Iwin had already named him Antoine so he HAD to come home with them. “But Boooouuu—he’s so CUTE and—and—I’ll promise that you’ll help me take CAAAARE of him!”

“Masters Iwin, I do not LIKES dogs—”

“So, I think sneaking you out of here could be plausible—“ Branwin began as he flopped back on Iwin’s bed.

“Uh-huh.”

Bran rolled to his side, perched on his elbow as he eyed Iwin. “I also think we could set Boucle on fire for funsies—”

“Sounds great!” Iwin replied, almost blankly, like he wasn’t paying attention.

“Mate….you’ve got it bad.”

“Got what bad—“ Iwin seemed to snap out of it and threw his neatly balled up pair of socks into the air.

“You’ve got the LOVE bug!” Branwin smirked.

“Isabelle…is worth it, Bran….I think she’s the one.”

They’d been waiting hours. Gianna, Iwin was sure, had been a trooper and now…she was letting them come see the baby. Iwin saw Stefan’s parents…the woman he assumed was Gianna’s mother, and Gianna’s VERY enticing sister.

Iwin made eyes with her and then met Bran’s gaze…Iwin had noticed her first…wasn’t that the rule?

….

“Here you go, Iwin—” Stefan lowered the newborn into Iwin’s arms. The infant squirmed in his arms, grew comfortable, and made sleepy infant noises. Iwin’s eyes widened.

“Stefan—he’s great—” he said. The yearning in his heart was painful. Gianna’s attractive sister was forgotten…

As soon as he saw her, Iwin knew something was wrong. His dad set him down, rushed over to her as Giselle collapsed to the floor. He was used to her being dramatic…but…

This was different.

Iwin listened as his father read the letter aloud. Peré …his Peré had died. He approached his mum and took her hand in his, frowning. “Mama...” he began. She was now curled up on the couch, her eyes streaming tears. “It will be okay, Mama—” he said, in French, to make her happy.

Giselle pulled him close. “Oh, I love you, Iwin—”

Betrayed.

She had betrayed him, and Iwin could feel himself losing the ability to control his breathing.

“Iwin—it was for the best—“ Isabelle’s face was round with worry.

The seventeen-year-old, nearly eighteen now, felt the way his heart began rapidly pounding against his rib cage. His hands had begun to shake, and Giselle stepped forward. “Iwin—it won’t matter—you’ll thank me later—“

Iwin couldn’t see, couldn’t feel himself breathing. He was falling...felt like his brain was flooding with…thoughts, stuff, rubbish—he could have saved her—

“She was mine, too,” was all he managed to choke out.

“It’s beautiful here…even if I do have to wear sun block….” Emmalee’s red hair glistened lightly in the evening’s fading light. Iwin couldn’t keep his eyes off her as he sipped his wine.

“Reminds me of you.”

They were curled up on the balcony of the villa Iwin had rented in Cairo. He wrapped an arm around Em and kissed the side of her face.

“Hot…a little biting, but beautiful all wrapped into one little package? Cairo is you, Reddie.”

Emmalee turned the color of the pink’d sky surrounding them in their own little dome. “I love you,” she whispered.

Iwin’s big, brown eyes followed his parents around the crowded hall, his mother’s dark hair standing out to him because it was still so new to him. His dad’s right arm was around Giselle, placed at the bottom of her back, and he led her around the room as if he were born to dance with his wife in perfect harmony.

Dad?” he looked up, sparkly eyed. “Can I learn to dance like that?” He had rushed over to them as the song ended.

His mother giggled like a schoolgirl, and his father smiled, for once. “Well, of course, son!”

Hippogriff races. Giselle’s hat was the fanciest one there, and she kept a watchful eye on her toddler playing nearby.

“Oh, Giselle—he’s adorable—” one of the other ladies commented.

“I know, isn’t he?” and Giselle smiled over at him, his thick, bushy brown hair slicked to the side with Giselle’s handiwork. “Just a doll.”

“Will he know French?”

Giselle nodded as he took off after one of the small girls—no older than two? “French, Welsh, English. I love him—” She beamed, resisting the urge to grab his CHUNKY little self and kiss all over his face.

“What did we even THINK of that one, Em?” Iwin leaned back in his chair to run his face. He was tired of looking at ads. He wanted a place already.

His anxiety levels were rising, steadily, day by day...

“Hey—hey,” Emmalee reached out to touch his knee. The café they were sitting in was crowded since it was Saturday, but Iwin wasn’t paying attention to the noise. Emmalee’s touch calmed him.

“I just—this needs to be perfect, Em.“

“Iwin. Iwin…I could live anywhere with you. It’d be perfect.”

“Really? What about a cardboard box?” Iwin smirked.

Iwin knocked on the door of the fancy condo this woman lived in because of his father. He hadn’t expected the brunette that answered to be attractive, either, but she was.

But she had crazy eyes.

Pleasantries made and introductions passed, Annabelle Chesterfield finally introduced Iwin to his brother and left the room. The ten-year-old looked nervous, sitting on his hands.

“Hey…I’m Iwin. I’m your big brother. You know what that means?”

Freddy shook his head, his face tomato red.

“It means that no matter what, I’ll have your back?” He sat down next to him and tried to look….nice.

Iwin sat across from THE Ghazal Lombroski. Of all the SEVENTH years at Durmstrang, she was the most attractive FEMALE Iwin had ever SEEN—

Oh my.

She was kissing him.

Iwin didn’t know how it had happened. One minute, they were in the library, studying. She asked for help—Iwin obliged—they talked—Iwin had let slip he had never kissed a girl before.

His cheeks turned pink, and he just…..stared open-mouthed at her. “I—did you mean to do that?!”

“….Iwin Howell, I did. I did mean to do that…”

….Iwin wondered if he could hide under the table.

Iwin’s face felt crusty with tears. He hadn’t left his house in days.

Why? Why was he so sad about this? It was what needed to be done. For Emmalee, for himself, for….for them. For his future. Dragging Tala along any longer seemed so cruel…

He had to see Emmalee, though. He needed her. But his phone was so far, and he was in no mood to write a letter….

…Poor Tala. Maybe he should text to see if she was all right—

But Emmalee’s voice rang out in his mind. IWIN HOWELL. DO NOT.

It had to be done.

The sobbing man on the hotel room floor looked drastically different than Iwin ever remembered his cousin looking. Crouching down, he pat Cadman’s back as the twins fumbled about the kitchen to make dinner for their brother.

“Hey…” he whispered, and Cadman looked up, his eyes puffy and red.

“…what am I gonna’ do? Justin—“

Iwin sat, slinging an arm around Cadman and snugging him, close. “Shhh. It’s gonna’ be okay…you’re gonna’ be okay. You…well. You and Justin can…have that wedding you wanted…”

Cadman looked blank, for a minute, but then sat up. “No…no more hiding.”

“No more hiding.”

The aftermath of the reveal had Iwin feeling euphoric. He put on some classical music, Claire de Lune by Claude Debussy, and smiled as he took Emmalee’s hands in his. “Dance with me?” he asked softly in her ear.

She was having his baby. His dream was finally reality.

“Oh Iwin, you silly—“

“No arguments!” He placed one hand on her hip, holding her other hand in his. “We can’t celebrate with wine—we need to dance!” As the music began, he was off, leading Emmalee along in the steps. “I love you, Em…” He met her gaze lovingly.

“Iwin…he was so scared! Oh I hate this! I hate this!” Giselle clung to her husband, a hand on his chest as little Iwin, trunk in tow, walked off towards the vehicle that would take him to Durmstrang.

Iwin indeed had looked wide-eyed and frightened at all of the people surrounding them, kissing his mother goodbye with misty eyes as Giselle sniffled.

Another boy, equally as small but with a loud voice, ran over little Iwin’s foot with his trunk on accident. Iwin reacted verbally, and as the other boy apologized, Iwin smirked, and they shook hands.

“He’ll be fine.”

Phillip twirled Alexi to their song, and Iwin clapped along with the rest of the wedding party, everyone laughing at how awkward and clumsy it was. Bran was beside himself. Once the song was over, Alexi collapsed in the chair next to Iwin, chattering away about the flowers. Iwin found himself not paying attention.

The music, the flowers, everything…his was reeling. He sighed a little, excusing himself from the table. He ignored the alarmed look Alexi sent him and…beelined for the bathroom.

He splashed water on his face. “Get it together. Pick up a girl. Have a good time, Howell.”

His French cousins were such prats, weren’t they? Iwin rolled down the hill when it was his turn, laughing the entire way. His elbows skidding along, pulling up dirt with them as he tumbled down.

“WOW Iwin! You’re SO FAST!” his cousins clapped for him, cheering.

The boyish grin that spread across his face was suddenly GONE when his mother YANKED him off the ground by the ear—“You’re a bloody MESS, now, Iwin Eugene!”

He had ruined a new shirt, clearly, and all of the other cousins were now getting fussed at, too. So much for a FUN picnic.

His mother’s tears were not enough to stop him.

“IWIN—“ Giselle began to weep, her words in French as she pleaded with him. “I’ll leave you alone—don’t move out—“

Iwin turned around, slowly, his face void of expression. “Mother. I am twenty-eight and so ready to be done with you,” he handed his last box to Boucle. “Don’t act like I’m dying, you insane woman.” He shooed his elf to go on.

“But you have the business!”

“I’m still going to WORK.” Iwin Eugene Howell was done. He apparated away without another word.

His mother wept profusely.

Iwin let the ice clink in his glass. His expression remained calm, but the argument with his uncle has escalated more quickly than he would have liked.

“I can’t believe you’re STILL paying for her—that dirty-blooded girl—“ Iago sneered at his father.

Iwin watched his grandfather consider Iago before he spoke. “Leave it alone, Iago.”

His uncle sharply turned to look at him. “Let it alone? She’s bad blood for this family—not that you care. Your daughters probably—“

Iwin’s wand was poised before Iago could finish. “I will kill you and not bat an eye, Uncle.”

He was not back in school yet, and Emmalee was taking a nap from her long day at work. The twins were crawling around, playing with things.

Iwin watched them closely.

Before he knew it, he found himself thinking just how much he loved his girls. All three of them. He smiled as Roz climbed into his lap and began to wave her toy keys around at his face.

“Okay, okay, Sweet Pea…” he grabbed the keys, and Jeannie giggled like mad. Roz came in from his left, SNATCHED the keys, and crawled away as if it were a race.

The Tannat household was not as quiet, orderly, or formal as the Howell household. People yelled a lot, Mr. Tannat liked to rough people up every so often, and Iwin kind of liked the excitement, especially when Mr. Tannat had business meetings.

“Let’s try to eavesdrop…” Bran whispered, taking out his Extendable Ears. Iwin smirked.

“You’re a genius, Bran!”

“Nah…just a troublemaker…” he winked at his mate.

Before the two could think about it, Bran’s oldest brother, George, grabbed them both by the back of the hair. “Not so fast…dad wouldn’t like that, Bran, and you know it.”

Iwin scoffed.

“Well…sure, Iwin. I’d love to.” Isabelle leaned over and kissed Iwin’s cheek, smiling. “What would you like me to wear?”

Iwin was busy rubbing the spot on his cheek Isabelle had kissed. Was she talking? He hadn’t noticed—her eyes were so pretty—

“Um—whatever you want. It’ll just be…a nice picnic outside before the weather starts getting bad…”

“I’ll be ready,” she took his hand. “Walk me to class, please?”

Iwin could not refuse, and his stomach was doing backflips. Ruffling his hair to look slightly more rugged, he began to pull her along.

Bran would be so proud.

“You’re a man now, Iwin. It’s time you start coming to work with me.” Iwin Howell Sr. set down the Prophet and smirked. “Are you ready?”

“Of COURSE I’m ready, dad!” Iwin looked outraged that his father would ever think otherwise. He ruffled his hair out of habit. “We start tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. Be ready at 7:30 AM, wear a suit.” His dad moved to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

Iwin smirked smugly to himself. He felt his stomach churning in both excitement and nervousness. If he messed up it would be detrimental to their relationship.

Just them tomorrow.

Iwin blinked at all of the bloody yelling. Apparently, his godfather was being disowned. At the time, he didn’t quite understand the implications, but later in life, this would affect him.

“You have to leave, Iden…if father knows you’re here—“ Iwin Sr. gritted his teeth at his brother.

“Just help me and Irene out—please—“

“I /can’t/! You know I can’t, Iden. You married a muggle—“

“Iwin.” Iden’s dark eyes were moist. “Please, brother. Irene is…Irene is pregnant.”

Little Iwin widened his eyes. “I’m going to have another cousin?” he asked softly.

Iden sighed. “Yes. A girl.”

This was it.

He was…babysitting. Stefan and Gianna were going out for the night, so he and Bran had pitched in to babysit. The toddler waddled around, waving at Iwin every so often.

“Man, this is hard,” Iwin said softly.

“I don’t know what the heck you see in kids. They’re gross and…” he eyed his friends’ child. “Kinda’ dumn, you know?”

Iwin SNORTED. “DUMB? They’re kids.” He sighed. “I’ll have them one day…kids, I mean. Even if I have to do it alone.”

“You’d…you’d have kids solo?”

“Yeah..I’d adopt or…whatever, mate.” Iwin was so determined to be a dad.