"Then I will expect you to be doing something about it?" She looked up at her father and spoke to him not in a commanding voice, but in one of duty and purpose. "She speaks of Healers as though she has been recently. What is they have said?" Two conversations went on at once, Rowena keeping their mother entertained while she herself drilled their father. Wasn't that how it always worked? Also, perhaps she should bring it up that now is as great a time as any to get a pony.

"School has been satisfactory, Mother. Typical. I have my Defense grade back up, I am just sure of it." Sophia parted from her father a moment to join her mother on the couch, and curled into her side.

"It wasn't that cold, but I sure didn't enjoy it."

Tarron looked down at Sophia, with her insistent tone and her expectations, and restrained a tired sigh. He did not like these topics; not in front of Aisling, anyhow. It was harder to be frank with her sitting a mere few feet away. He pressed his lips together, and glanced at Aisling and Rowena.

"I am, child," he said. "Why do you think I arranged for you to be here on this day?" He spoke in a low, hushed tone. "I will explain the particulars later." Another glance at her mother. "In private. Go - be with your mother."

With that, he stood, taking his place in the armchair by the fire, his usual haunt on cold evenings. He smiled at the three of them. "That is good, Sophia," he said. "What makes you believe Mister Storm has improved your grade? All impressions of them man paint him as a rather difficult one."

Rowena motioned her sister over, after hearing their Father's comments. What could have been so bad as to push him to bring them home? She couldn't stop herself from looking over to her mother, and she set one hand on Aisling's shoulder, soft as she could. "Sophia and I've been studying together more. And Professor Storm...he's very stern." That was a good word for him, wasn't it?

"That's good for a Defense professor, isn't it Mother?" She didn't think about the words until they were out of her mouth, and then she wrapped her arms around her mother's neck in apology, loose strands of red hair bouncing against Aisling's face.

"Yes, it can be. It's a very important subject." Aisling hid her face in Rowena's hair for a moment after she spoke, finding what solace she could in her daughter's presence. Then she leaned back, her expression uncertain for a moment as she attempted to compose herself.

Far easier said than done. She beckoned Sophia over, the gesture almost plaintive. "Please, dear. Come sit with me." Their presence was what she needed most of all.

And Tarron had arranged it. Aisling looked over to him. "Thank you dear. I," her voice broke. This was far too much to ask of him, to live with just how broken she could be. And yet he stayed. He still stayed. There was such reassurance in just being able to see him, to hear Sophia's voice, to smell the faint scent of Rowena's hair.

When her mother called to her, Sophia answered. Despite how angry she felt sometime or frustrated at how things happened, she was very much in love with her family. She could not blame her father for choosing their mother, she loved her dearly, and when she settled in beside her it was nice to let go of all the caution she carried. She was home, and though she ignored her father's question about her grades it was nice to be in the sanctuary of mother's arms.

Sophia really didn't know what her grade was, other than she was trying her best. She didn't talk at all in his class, did everything he asked, and met the man firmly with her own cold sternness in attempt to gain his favor.

Tarron was not a man to whom words came easily in these situations. When Aisling spoke, he felt what few words he could have summoned freeze in his throat; and so instead he rose from where he had sat and stood behind the couch his wife and daughters occupied, his hand resting gently on his wife's shoulder. Overt affection was something he rarely displayed in front of anyone, even family members; it was simply not his way.

The way her voice broke resonated in him, however, drove his fingers to squeeze her shoulder gently, a silent way of saying he didn't plan on going anywhere. Far from it - the last time they had been separated, it had been she that was taken from him...

"Of course," he said, finally, the words feeling simple and dry compared to what he wished he could say, or could communicate silently. That was what he loved about her, of course; that she understood him in his silences, and knew that a lack of words was never testament to a lack of feeling.

And there was Sophia, close enough to hold tight. They were all there, safe. Warmth to hold out the chill in her heart. How she needed that, needed them. Far more than they needed her. But wasn't that how being a parent was supposed to progress?

"Thank you all. This is the best Valentine's I've had in so many years." She reached up to rest her hand on her shoulder, just over Tarron's.  "I think that I may even be able to stop worrying, for now."

She closed her eyes and smiled. She'd save the worrying for later.

End