Chapter Text
She walks out of the fireplace and brings her wand up with a swirl, the dust and soot disappearing off of her outer cloak. The living room is empty, but by the sound of it she can hear someone climbing up the wooden staircase.
Patsy takes off her red cloak and drapes it over her arm, poking her head out from the doorway. She looks down and sees a trunk at the bottom of the stairs. A smile spreads widely to her lips and without even taking her hat off, she leaps excitedly over the trunk and runs quickly up the staircase.
“I thought I recognized your trunk,” she says breathlessly.
A smaller body turns around and then, “Hello, Pats!”
“Delia only just arrived a few moments ago,” Sister Maria Cynthia says, a stack of books in her arms.
“Yes, and I’m afraid I’ve got quite a lot to tidy away, here. I couldn’t decide which books to bring and which ones to leave, so I just brought them all,” Delia says, shrugging her shoulders.
“Well, good thing that tidying is one of my great specialties,” Patsy says. “Shall I go down and get your trunk?”
“That would be perfect, thank you,” Delia says, taking the books from Sister Mary Cynthia’s arms.
“Do let me know if you need anymore help,” Sister Mary Cynthia says, “I’m on fire duty this evening, but poor Mrs. Willard went into labor early, and she was our first concern.”
“I can take it from here,” Patsy says, taking off her hat and throwing it and her cloak onto Delia’s bed.
“Yes, thank you sister, for all of your help.”
Sister Mary Cynthia leaves them with a nod and a smile, and then makes her way down to the living room fireplace.
“Did you have a good journey?” Patsy asks, the smile on her face still tugging hard.
“It was alright, I suppose,” Delia says, taking her books and finding homes for them in the space underneath her bedside table. “Mam was insistent upon me taking a ‘safer’ mode of transportation, so I took the Knight Bus into London and then used the Leaky Couldron’s fireplace to get here.”
Patsy grimaces. “That sounds awful. I’ve never liked the Knight Bus.”
“I know,” Delia says, sighing. “But until the Ministry allows for more long distance Floo travel, it’s either that or flying—and Mam would have lost it if I left home on my Nimbus.”
“I still don’t understand why you don’t just apparate,” Patsy says, now smirking.
Delia gets up from where she was organizing her books and stares straight into Patsy’s eyes, her lips pursed. “Patience Mount, you know how hard it is to apparate across country lines, let alone with bags and a big trunk!” Delia glances up at her again. “Speaking of which, weren’t you going to get mine for me?”
Patsy rolls her eyes, ignoring the grin plastered onto Delia’s face, and walks halfway down the stairs. She waves her wand once and the brown trunk begins to rise, following her back up to Delia’s room as if it weighed no more than a feather.
“Thank you, Pats,” Delia says.
*
It isn’t long until Delia’s bedroom is set up to her liking, Patsy being the one to actually get down on her hands and knees like a muggle to organize things while Delia sits on the edge of her bed and lazily flicks her wand around.
“Hold on, I’ve got something for you,” Patsy says, turning on her foot and rushing out of the room. She comes back a moment later, a small glass vase in her hand, holding the bud of an umbrella flower.
“Oh, Pats,” Delia says, taking the vase from her, “it’s lovely!”
Patsy bounces upwards onto her toes. “Fred started growing them, and I managed to snag one from his garden.”
“I hope it doesn’t get too big; mam has them back home and hers take up the whole yard.”
“I’m sure Fred won’t mind if we return this one after its taken up half your bedroom,” Patsy says, grinning.
Delia set the vase on top of her chest of drawers, glaring down at the knobs that are still turning back and forth on their own. “That’s enough, you,” she hisses, bumping into the drawers with her hip. The knobs stop moving.
“You must be tired,” Delia says, now looking at Patsy, still in her uniform of blue robes with a red belt to match her hat and outer cloak.
“If I am, I can’t feel it,” Patsy says, wringing her hands together.
“Come here,” Delia shuffles her feet forward, taking Paty’s hands into her own. She watches Patsy glance to the open doorway, checking to see that no one is coming no doubt.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Patsy whispers, letting Delia tug her into a hug.
“Me too.”
*
“Excuse me, sister!” A small voice squeaks, pointed ears protruding from under the table.
“Yes, Miss B?” Sister Julienne asks, leaning down to talk to the house elf.
“There’s someone waiting in the fire, sister,” Miss B says. Her voice is high pitched and raspy, her eyes large and ears constantly pointed upwards. The tea towel she wears is tied in two neat knots on each of her shoulders, and the logo for St. Mugos in stamped in the right-hand corner.
“That’ll probably be for Mrs. Wyatt,” Phyllis says, pushing her chair out and standing up. “She had complications with her last birth, and I told her husband to give a call at the first sign of labor.” She picks up her empty dinner plate, having been called to work before she could put any of her dinner on it, and sets it down on the countertop. “I’m afraid this pushes you up on the duty queue, Sister Winifred.”
“That’s quite alright,” Sister Winifred says, scooping some potatoes onto her plate before passing the bowl to Trixie. “I have some knitting to finish tonight anyway, for the children’s event next week.”
“Oh dear, I had almost forgotten about that,” Trixie says, taking the bowl while Phyllis heads out of the dining room for the fireplace.
“Children’s event?” Delia asks, looking around the table.
“Oh, yes!” Sister Winifred perks up. “A bunch of organizations are providing things like cloaks and sweaters, second hand books and cauldrons, all for children who have parents in closed wards at hospital, so they can have everything they need for the upcoming school year.”
“That’s a wonderful thing to do,” Delia says. “The whole community getting together and everything. We never really had anything like this back home since most of us didn’t go away to school.”
“You mean you didn’t go off for school?” Sister Winifred asks, cocking her head so that her wimple shakes.
Delia shakes her head. “My dad went to Hogwarts, but mam didn’t want me going off so far away from home, especially with, well, everything that was happening.” She doesn’t say You-Know-Who’s name, but everyone at the table knows what she’s talking about. “We had a schoolhouse in our village, though, and I was able to sit for both of my O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s through a special program.”
“Yes, and now that Delia has come to stay with us, she’s going to put us all to shame with her wit and intelligence, even if she is working in a different ward,” Trixie says, a mischievous smile playing at her lips.
“Pats is the real chess player,” Delia says, using the side of her fork rather than a knife to cut up her food. “I just got lucky that time we played.”
Miss B the house elf sidles up to the end of the table, something hiding unmistakably behind her back. She tries to hand it off silently to Sister Monica Joan, who looks down eagerly, but Sister Julienne notices before the exchange can become final.
“Sister Monica Joan, what are you doing?”
“I am conversing with our dear elf friend,” she says, head still turned away.
“Sister Monica Joan, is that a piece of the cake we were saving to celebrate Delia’s arrival?”
Patsy turns and beams at Delia, who looks flushed and surprised.
“Cake, for me?” Delia asks, setting her fork down.
“Of course,” Sister Julienne says gently. “We are delighted to have you stay with us, Delia. You are a wonderful young woman, and quite an apt mediwitch, and we couldn’t be happier to provide you a home, and hopefully one day, a family.”
From under the table where no one can see, Patsy reaches over and squeezes Delia’s hand.
“At any rate, however, there may not be cake if Sister Monica Joan continues to conspire with our house elf,” Sister Julienne says, giving the other nun a stern look.
“Foiled!”
*
“Oh, turn it up, Barbara! I love this song!”
“I didn’t know you were a Celestina Warbeck fan, Trixie,” Barbara says, turning up the dial on the radio.
“There are many things about you that you don’t know,” Trixie says coyly. She grabs her wand from her nightstand and taps the deck of the cards; the cards suddenly spring into the air and begin to shuffle themselves.
Don't you be afraid, come and take a sip
Of this steamy, tasty treat!
What's in my cauldron full of hot, strong love
Will make your life complete!
“Are those Exploding Snap cards?” Patsy asks warily.
“Maybe.” Trixie doesn’t look her in the eye.
“The last time you coerced me into a game of Exploding Snap, I lost nearly all my fringe!”
Delia and Barbara exchange a look, laughing.
“I put your hair back right, didn’t I?” Trixie raises her eyebrows. “Besides, I think Sister Monica Joan may have taken my set. There are just plain old muggle cards.”
“They better be,” Patsy mutters, running her fingers through the ginger bangs that lay against her forehead.
“And here I thought the singed look was all the rage!” Delia laughs, letting her shoulder brush against Patsy’s. “Isn’t that what all the kids are wearing these days?”
Patsy rolls her eyes. Celestina Warbeck continues to croon through the speaker of the radio, Trixie swaying along to the music. There's a sort of crackle that cuts off the music, but no one notices at first.
“Oh—wait!” Barbara abruptly stands up, the radio in her arms. Trixie puts her wand down and the cards stop shuffling. “Listen!” She turns the volume up even more and everyone leans in.
“We interrupt the evening music hour on the WWN to bring you this news from the Ministry,” a gruff voice says. “We have knowledge that the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has just returned from Azkaban prison where it is learned that notorious mass murderer and high security prisoner Sirius Black has escaped.”
Patsy gasps and sinks down into her bed. Delia quickly turns to look at her and opens her mouth to say something, but the voice on the radio continues.
“No word yet on what the Minister has to say on this matter, but we can confirm that guards have already been sent to look for him. A ministry official who refused to make any more comments has at least told us to be on the lookout for a special edition of the Evening Prophet for more information…”
Barbara turns down the volume dial, her lip quivering. “I…I suppose I should go see Sister Julienne. She probably doesn’t know yet.” She leaves the bedroom, radio still in her arms, legs shaking.
“Patsy,” Trixie says gently. “Are you alright?”
Patsy blinks. She can feel Delia close to her, warm with the smell of the umbrella flower that she had given her lingering on the other girl’s clothes. Patsy swallows and then says, “Yes. Yes I’m perfectly fine. Shall we go downstairs to see if an owl has come with the paper?”
“I’ll do it,” Trixie says at once, standing up. She tries to give a reassuring smile to Delia, but it falters, and turns away hastily.
After a few seconds of silence, Delia opens her mouth. “Pats? Are you sure you’re alright?”
Patsy brushes off a bit of fuzz from her dressing gown. “I’m fine, Delia.”
“Do you want—”
“I said I’m fine!” Patsy snaps. She sees Delia pull in her lower lip and her expressions softens a little. “There’s no point in worrying until we’ve heard what Fudge has to say on this matter,” she says. “For all we know, Black could be in Canada right now.”
Delia reaches out to touch Patsy’s hand, but pulls away. She stands up from the bed, smoothing out her own dressing gown and says, “Okay.” She turns to walk out of the doorway but then says, “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”
Patsy nods, thinning her lips. When she knows the Delia is down the hallway in her own bedroom, she buries her head in her hands.