Chapter Text
Kairos Diakos watched his granddaughter splash in the waves with the little boy who had joined them not long into their lessons. The beach was busy, but not overwhelmingly so, with families dotting the shoreline, Kairos assumed that the child belonged to one of them, with his dark eyes and olive complexion he was most likely a native to the island.
“Papous!” Helena’s fairy-like voice rang out, “Come play with us!” Kairos felt laughter deep in his chest, and it bubbled up like a long dormant volcano. Feeling younger than he had in years, he charged toward the surf and scooped both Helena and her friend into his arms. He spun around and splashed deeper into the water. The kids laughed and clung to him as the surf crashed around them. Kairos was careful not to dunk either of the children’s heads as he bobbed up and down in the clear water. Helena’s fingers curled into his hair, and he winced when she tugged a little more than was comfortable.
“Ellia,” the little boy said, speaking for the first time, startling Kairos with his distinctly British accent and use of English, “You’re pulling his hair.” Helena immediately loosened the strands and patted her grandfather on the head consolingly.
“Sygnomi, Papous,” she said earnestly, the Greek word of apology still holding signs of her distinctly English heritage.
Kairos was quick to forgive the unintentional injury and continued to splash with the children until the sun sank below the horizon. The other families on the beach began to pack up and Kairos waited for one of them to call the little boy over. One by one they departed, and still he played happily in the surf with Helena.
“’Lena,” Kairos urged, “It’s time to tell your friend goodbye. He needs to go home.” The two exchanged a glance, a short conversation, a nod and a hug. The little boy scampered toward the white stone houses that lined the road above the beach, ducking between two of them. Helena scrambled to her grandfather’s waiting arms. Safely cocooned in a towel, she rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her up to the villa.
They entered through the kitchen door, Helena’s sleepy weight growing heavier in Kairos’ arms. He muttered a feather-weight charm through his gritted teeth and felt himself relax a little. He walked down the hall to her bedroom, where he set her on the floor only long enough to cast a gentle cleansing charm on her skin and hair, then transfigure her bathing costume into a soft nightshirt. A flick of his wrist turned down the covers and he laid the little girl against the pillows. He picked up a stuffed dragon from the floor and tucked it under her chin before pulling the covers back up.
“Sweet dreams, Little Lena,” he whispered with a kiss to her temple. He tiptoed out of the room, leaving a little light glowing near the bed.
--
Teddy was cold, dirty and hungry. He pouted a little as he followed behind Helena and her grandfather. After they went into the house, Teddy waited several minutes, then knocked on the door. A little house elf answered and hustled him into the kitchen.
“We were wondering where you were, Little Master,” the elf said, “Miss Helena is in bed sleeping.” The creature ran a wary eye up and down Teddy’s frame.
“Bath,” he declared, snapping his long fingers. A tub of warm water appeared on the kitchen hearth and Teddy was ushered into the suds. The little elf scrubbed Teddy so hard his head ached, and his skin felt tingly. When the bath was over, the elf conjured some pajamas and bundled Teddy off to Helena’s bedroom. Helena was so soundly asleep that she barely moved when Teddy cuddled into bed next to her and Skylight stretched between the two of them. The little dragon’s projection of home lulled Teddy into a peaceful sleep.
--
Kairos entered his study to find his very unhappy wife waiting for him. In moments like these she reminded him of a dragon ready to sear him. Her words were certainly caustic enough to burn. He poured himself a drink before he nodded for her to begin her speech. He did not even really hear anymore the numerous charges she was leveling against him. He merely let her release her steam while he focused on the drink in his hand and the photograph on his desk.
It was charmed only to be visible to himself. To the rest of the world, the frame held a formal portrait of Kairos, Kallan, and Roseline. Under the enchantment, however, was his favorite photo of his son. Kathan was about Helena’s age in the portrait, playing in the same surf to which Kairos had introduced his granddaughter tonight. The grin on his face was wide and joy-filled and it was one of the last moments he could remember his little boy as carefree. Shortly after that day, Kairos and Roseline had received the devastating news that Kathan was, in fact, not waiting to grow into his magic as his sister had done. He simply did not have any. The grief that Kairos had felt about what Kathan would miss had cast a long shadow over the boy’s youth. The shame Roseline felt had driven Kathan from their home and even their homeland.
“-and that upstart muggleborn had the audacity-“ a snippet of Roseline’s continuing tirade filtered through his ears. Setting the photo back on the desk, he paused to tune in.
“-has Kallan’s personal floo. I thought I was clear when I said we would not be contacted. How is Rosie supposed to forget about England if she’s constantly being contacted?” Kairos felt his heart sink into his stomach.
“Roseline,” he spoke, finding no pleasure in the start she gave at the deep rumble of his voice, “Helena is only here for the week. She should not be forgetting about England. What did Hermione want?”
Roseline did not speak for a long moment, so startled was she that Kairos had spoken. Reluctantly, she sighed and looked at her feet.
“I did not ask, nor give her time to tell me,” she admitted, more to the carpet beneath her feet than to him. Kairos also sighed, the discontented breath rising from deep in his chest. He stood to his feet, but rather than rail at his wife, he took both hands in his own and looked her in the face.
“Rosie,” he crooned, the nickname a memory of days long past, “She’s not ours to keep. Holding her too tightly will only lead to losing her.” Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her forehead. They stood there for a moment, neither speaking to the other, her gaze fixed on her feet and his on the top of her head. Kairos cleared his throat, ready to ask for Hermione’s Floo Address, when the door alert charm activated. With one last squeeze of his wife’s hands, Kairos turned and made for the front foyer.
As he opened the heavy wooden door, Kairos was startled to see two aurors from the Odigoi Astynomia.
“Kairos Diakos?” the taller of the blue coated individuals stepped forward to introduce himself and his partner. Formalities completed, Kairos stepped aside to invite his guests in. They stepped across the threshold. The shorter man reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph.
“Do you recognize this boy?” the man asked, handing the paper to Kairos. Kairos could feel himself growing irrationally nervous as he studied the image. The small boy was pale with a crop of sandy hair and a missing toothed grin. Kairos racked his brain trying to place the hauntingly familiar face.
“He looks familiar,” the man admitted, “but I can’t quite place where from.”
“His name is Edward Lupin,” the taller auror supplied, “He’s the adopted son of one Harry Potter in England.” Kairos nodded.
“Lena’s best friend,” he whispered, suddenly remembering the hug exchanged during the handoff earlier that week, “Is he missing?”
“Yes, and he’s quite the enterprising youngster,” the shorter man said, a hint of admiration in his voice. He rocked up on the balls of his feet, “They’ve tracked him all the way to the Athens’ Flooport.”
Kairos blinked in amusement and a little bit of wonder. The boy could not be much older than five or six. For him to have navigated the travel system well enough to arrive in the country of destination safely had taken some serious determination. He sent up a small prayer that the boy had not come to harm.
“I have not seen him,” Kairos admitted after a moment’s reflection, “But I will certainly watch for him, especially since it is likely he will be trying to get here.” The auror’s nodded and departed, leaving the picture behind.
--
Hermione slipped softly out of the nursery, pulling the door shut behind her. She had taken upon herself the task of getting both Thaddeus and Susannah to bed as Harry had paced and strategized with the ever-growing team in the study. Not ready yet to act as a pillar of strength, Hermione turned toward the kitchen for something to drink.
The kitchen was eerily cool, dim and quiet as Hermione pushed open the door. Harry’s elves had disappeared a few hours ago, banished by a quiet word from Luna after Neville had nearly trodden on one in a moment of distraught pacing. Hermione crossed to the cooling cabinet where she knew that there was some orange squash left from the day before. As she sought the bottle, her hand brushed up against a container of leftover spaghetti and she felt tears welling up again.
--
Teddy, standing on a stool, peered over the edge of the pot and stared at the tangle of pasta swirling in the hot water. Hermione was stationed at his side, a rare moment alone for the two of them. Harry was meeting with the goblins over some private estate matter he would not discuss with her, and the babies were napping.
“I wish Helena were here,” Teddy confessed, not looking up, “She loves Spag Bol.” Hermione sighed and wrapped an arm around the little boy. She leaned over and kissed the top of the faded blue hair. Teddy simply lacked vibrance when he was upset. The boy had better learn to control his transformations or he would be an open book of emotion for the world to read.
“I miss her too, Bud,” Hermione confessed, “but she doesn’t actually like spaghetti that much.”
Teddy looked up from the pot with a confused look.
“She doesn’t?” he asked, incredulous. Hermione shook her head and ruffled his hair.
“She knows it’s your favorite, so she asks me to make it. She loves you, Teddy.” The boy thought about that for a moment and nodded solemnly.
“I love her, too, Maya,” he confessed.
--
Hermione swiped at the tears streaming down her face with the back of a trembling hand. Abandoning all thought of the drink, she sank to her knees and let her body shake with the weight of her grief. Hermione sobbed without restraint for the first time in a long time, her shoulders trembling and the tips of her fingers beginning to tingle as her need to grieve warred with her body’s need to breathe. It was several moments before she was able to take long, deep, and steadying breaths; even longer before she was able to pull herself up on shaking legs and retrieve the drink she had been looking for.
--
Harry ran his hand through the mess that was his hair yet again as he listened to Amelia’s latest update, or lack thereof. Aurors were reporting in from all over Europe with no news of a lost British boy. His picture was set to feature on the front page of the Daily Prophet in a couple of hours, as well as in the Greek, Spanish, Dutch and Macedonian magical papers. Harry pulled of his glasses so he could rub his very tired eyes again in order to focus on the map on the desk in front of him.
“Nev,” he sighed, watching his friend’s head nod for the fourth time, “go home. Take Luna with you. There’s nothing more you can do here tonight.” Neville looked to the other end of the sofa, where the waif-like blonde had dozed off, her lap full of papers and her feet tucked underneath her. Neville cleared Luna’s lap, then gently shook her shoulder. After a moment’s whispered conversation, Luna rose and embraced Harry.
“He’s going to be fine,” she tried to assure him, “He’s a magically protected little boy.” Harry clenched his jaw and attempted to believe his friend. He felt the light brush of Luna’s lips on his cheek and then the cool breeze as she stepped away to join Neville in the doorway.
Harry did not hear Amelia’s quiet words to her aurors, but they each left the room as well, taking with them most of the tactical maps and gear they had brought. Soon only the director and the distraught father occupied the office. The older woman turned to her former protégé and placed a hand on his shoulder. She looked into his eyes and he sensed there the sincerity and empathy of a woman who had suffered far too many losses in her lifetime.
“We’ll keep looking, Harry,” she assured him, her voice pitched low with determination, “I know it’s probably a waste of breath for me to say this, but try to get some rest. You’ll be no good to Teddy when we get him home if you’ve pushed yourself to the point of exhaustion.”
With those words, Amelia left the room and Harry found himself devastatingly alone for the first time since this nightmare had begun. He walked to the couch and sat down heavily, feeling as though he was crushed under the weight of everything that was happening. Reaching behind him, he grabbed the throw pillow and buried his face in it. He screamed with all the frustration of hours which faded into quiet sobs. Slowly, despite his best efforts, Harry drifted into a fitful sleep.
--
Hermione had heard Neville and Luna leaving, then the reactivation of the Floo several times as the aurors left. She’d exchanged farewells with Amelia Bones which included the assurance that Hermione would look out for Harry throughout the night.
Hermione had reached the doorway to the office when she saw Harry grab the throw pillow and use it to muffle his scream. Having only recently recovered from her own bout with grief, she sensed his need to be alone with his feelings for the moment, so Hermione stepped out of the doorway, leaning her back against the wall and sinking to the ground again as she heard the heart of the man she loved breaking out of fear for his son. When the crying subsided, Hermione tiptoed into the office. Spying Harry asleep on the sofa, she gave a half smile, transfigured a blanket from a piece of spare parchment and then placed a cushioning charm on the floor next to the sofa. Hemione lay down on the newly softened floor and took Harry’s hand in her own. She too drifted into an uncertain sleep, the same way she had for the last several days.