Chapter Text
"John! Johnny! Wait!"
John huffed a sigh and shuffled his feet more slowly through the fallen leaves to give Harry time to catch up. His school trousers dragged on the pavement at his heels, and he knew that if they frayed, his mum would have something to say about it.
Why couldn't she hem them to the proper length, like other mums did? It wasn't his fault that he was short and his trousers never fit properly.
Harry passed him a moment later, forcing him to speed up to keep her from getting too far ahead. It was his job to see that Harry got home from school safely, after all. His parents had impressed that on him when term started. With his mother taking a job, she would no longer be meeting Harry -- or John for that matter -- at the school gate. John was eleven to Harry’s eight, and Harry didn’t understand why anyone had to be responsible for seeing her home.
John ran ahead, chasing his sister until he passed her, letting her chase and overtake him, making a game of it so she was laughing and breathless when he fished the key to the front door out of his pocket.
“I’m hungry, Johnny,” she said as she dropped her rucksack in the hall and went to turn on the telly.
“No telly until you’ve done your schoolwork,” John said, stepping between her and the television. “Mum said.”
“Jo-ohnny …” Lord, but Harry could whine.
“Come in the kitchen and get started while I make us a snack.”
John hung his jacket on the hook and went into the kitchen, Harry following. He pulled out bread and put it in the toaster while she settled at the table.
“What are you going to be for Halloween?” she asked. “I don’t know what to be. All the girls want to be princesses, but I don’t want that. Do you think mum would buy me a witch costume?”
“Don’t need a costume for that,” John said, smirking.
“Johnny,” she protested.
“No reason to buy a witch costume anyway,” John said. “We can find an old black dress, maybe just buy a hat. We can make a broom. A little bit of green makeup. It’ll look better than any costume from the store, you’ll see.”
“What about you? What are you going to be?” Harry asked.
“I’m going to be a doctor,” John said.
“What -- like granddad?” she asked.
“Well, sort of, I guess,” John said. “I am going to use the stethoscope he gave me. But I don’t want to be an old GP in a white coat. I haven’t got one anyway. But Paul’s brother works at the hospital, and Paul said he could get me a scrub shirt -- you know, like the docs in the A & E wore when I was there with my arm. I want to look like one of them -- jeans and a scrub shirt and a stethoscope. I can even wear my trainers.”
John smiled, a real smile. He wanted to see himself as a doctor. He’d told his teacher he wanted to be a doctor, and she said he had the aptitude for it if he worked hard. When he’d mentioned it at dinner, though, his father scoffed. “Bit grand for the likes of us,” he said. “Your mum’s dad was a doctor -- but it took the army to pay for that. And we’ve come down a bit in the world.”
His mum, though, had looked at him fondly and said, “You’d make a wonderful doctor, Johnny.”
His smile lingered at the memory. He knew she was tired when she got home from work, but maybe his mum could teach him to sew a witch’s cape for Harry. And then he could fix his own trousers. Sewing would be a handy skill for a doctor, right?
Harry smiled, too. “You’ll help me make my costume, won’t you?” she asked. “Only I don’t want to look like all the girls in pink and sparkles. I want to be scary. That’s what Halloween is about.”
“Halloween is about being anything you want,” John told her.