"Now, you two are going to behave, and properly," Lydia said, smoothing out the creases on her husband's shoulder. "I know you don't like him, but for once. Just for one night, I beg of you two to be nice to him as humanly possible." She looked around at her son, who was standing behind her with a resigned look on his face and a dish with roast duck on a bed of vegetables in his arms. "And you know what I've said to you about your grandfather before. I think you've been doing a good job, keep it up."

Arcturus sighed as he shifted the deep dish along his arm so he could cradle it more comfortably and safely. He'd rather not drop it en route and make a mess, let alone on his clothes - an olive polo-necked jumper[1] and dark faded jeans. This was about as fancy as he'd get with his family. "I'll try. It's not easy."

"I know it isn't." Lydia looked around. "Oh, where's the mint sauce? I thought I put it in the duck dish..."

Arcturus offered the dish to his mother. "I'll go check the kitchen, you might have left it on the counter." Lydia watched him go as she held the dish in the same manner as her son had, before turning to her husband.

"So," she said, "you have any plans on dealing with your father? He's certainly been driving you up the wall this year, even if you won't tell me why."

Mordecai adjusted his collar, shaking his head in response to Lydia's question. "I've put up with him long enough to figure out that expending my energy on him any more than necessary has no benefit to me. There has to come a time when I just give up on whatever he says about me and live my life the way I want, and I think I have long since passed that time. I'm more worried about Arc - you know the things he says leaves some sort of mark on him, even if it's the most minor thing."

"Well, of course," said Lydia in a low tone, as Arcturus emerged from the kitchen at the other end of the hallway.  "The generation gap is difficult to bridge, Arc's insecurities are regrettably numerous and Linus is not particularly inclined to change his mind about things. But if you can, please try and buffer some of it."

"As far as I can try without having him accuse me of taking the mickey out of him or encourage Arc to be 'soft', whatever that means." Mordecai raised his voice. "Arc? Do you have it? If not we could probably whip some up in York, assuming he hasn't let my mother's mint plants die yet."

"No, I've got it, it's here. Mum, you can give me back the dish please." Lydia, not one to distrust her son - and the dish was heavy - gave it back to him as Mordecai took a handful of Floo powder from the old teabox on the mantelpiece of the fireplace in the family room. With one practised movement he flung all of it into the fireplace; green fire roared to life, blazing fiercely.

"Ready?" he asked. "Really, this time? Nothing forgotten, I hope? Are we really bringing just that to his house? You know he's going to make comments."

"Mord, I have all of what we need right here." Lydia lifted a bag. "The rest will be easy-peasy. If we wait any longer Arc's going to run out the front door and we're not going to see him for the rest of the year!" Her son tried to keep his face straight; Lydia couldn't have spoken truer words. "I'll go first, if you want to keep faffing about in your reluctance. At least he'll be greeted with a smile."

---

Arcturus had always found his grandfather's house a tight squeeze[2]. The fireplace already took up quite a large area of the lounge itself, which was where they arrived, but since there wasn't anything else in the room save for the mandatory sofa, two bookshelves, a footrest and a side table for the wireless set he supposed there wasn't anything to be worried about regarding space.

When he wasn't sitting in the garden, where his grandmother had left behind her plants, he would normally have been sitting at the dining table playing wizarding chess by owl post. He supposed that his grandfather still had friends despite his unpleasantness, but perhaps it was only this unpleasantness was expressed towards his own family. Maybe.

Mordecai had said that it was Linus who had gotten him into wizarding chess, always reminding him of using his intellectual capabilities to the fullest, for the good of the community. Somehow that message had been passed down direct from the man himself almost persistently, and Arcturus found himself questioning people using their wits for less than scrupulous means when it really shouldn't have been his business.

Arcturus stepped out of the fire, having gone last, to find his mother giving the old man a hug. His father was still dusting the soot off his shoulder, but it was clear from the start the distance between the two when his grandfather made a beeline for him, completely ignoring Mordecai's "Merry Christmas, father". Yes, it had been uttered a little stiffly, a little uncertain, but it was still loud enough that Linus would have had to intentionally ignore it to walk past him without looking like that.

"You still have that skunk disaster?" His grandfather's dark eyes settled disapprovingly on the white side of Arcturus' hair. "Would have figured you would have at least dyed it over. The ladies don't like someone with the fashion sense of a teenager, you know."

"Merry Christmas, granddad," Arcturus said, trying to sound more cheerful. "How have you been? Doing well with your wizarding chess of late? I heard there was a Yorkshire championship going on Boxing Day."

"Feh, they're all amateurs! It'll be like taking candy from a toddler." Arcturus tried to not look amused at this. "I can beat them and take the trophy and then beat them again, no doubt that. All their new-fangled strategies and rules don't live up to the old days when wizarding chess wasn't just about pieces smacking each other about the head."

"So you're in it, then?" Arc asked calmly. His grandfather snorted as he headed past his grandson. "Of course."

As Linus disappeared upstairs, his mother took the deep dish from him. "My parents will be here in a short while, I hope, so you will at least have someone else to speak to," she said in a low voice, just in case. "Unless you want to keep talking to him about wizard chess."

"I-- no, I don't." Arcturus heaved a sigh. "Does he need his Christmas tree decorated and so on? It's looking a little bare in here, and I spy a box of ornaments sitting in the corner. Is he...okay?"

"He's fine." Lydia cast her glance around the two rooms joined together. "Funny, I just suggested to your father to help with the decorating. If you don't mind, please do. I'll be in the kitchen prepping the baklava and kataifi, so please keep him occupied until then. Try your best."

"Yeah, all right, it's not like I've got a viable choice." Arcturus looked around the house again. "So how are your parents coming here? I certainly hope not by the big flying metal arrows, I thought you said they were a little too old for that."

"They're called aeroplanes, Arc, how many times do I have to tell you? No, they're going through the Greek Ministry for the international floo, your father's going to get them around," Lydia checked the grandfather clock near the door, "seven thirty. I think that's him coming down now. Go on." She chivvied Arcturus away and disappeared into the kitchen, with Mordecai watching. The two men shared a look that spoke volumes of how they felt about this, and retrieved their wands just as Linus emerged from the hallway.

"What are you two doing?" he snapped, causing Arc to jump. "If you're going to duel then you can shove those wands--"

"Relax, granddad, we're setting up the decorations," said the healer, a garland of bright blue tinsel shaking itself of dust and gently rising into the air from the box as he spoke. "It's Christmas, I think the house could do with some colour."

"Well then, don't put it so close to the ceiling! The spiders will nest in them!" Linus barked. Arcturus lowered the tinsel.

"Is that better?"

"No! Have you ever put up tinsel, boy?! Here, let me show you how it's done..."

Normally house decorating in the Hollingburys' house took perhaps half an hour, forty-five minutes if Lydia was feeling picky. By the time they were done with just the dining and lounge rooms, it had been over an hour and a half, and Mordecai had to take leave through the floo to the Ministry. He gave his son an apologetic look before he stepped into the green flames.

"Hm!" Linus watched him go, before turning back to Arcturus, who was in the process of attaching the first lametta to the Christmas tree. "I'm not going to get presents under the tree this year, Arcturus, there's no need to decorate it!"

"But..." Arcturus faltered a little. He didn't want to be rude. "It's not about the presents. It just looks nicer."

"Nicer! It's just a lot of dust and cleaning up later! I took the extra mile to get the tree since your mother's parents are coming over, but honestly--"

"Petherós,"[3] said Lydia in an endearing tone, poking her head out of the kitchen, a warm smell of sweet pastry wafting out with her. Linus immediately turned to her without protest. "Look, the place looks so much nicer now! Let him help you decorate. Besides, even if you don't let Arc do it, father and mother will, so please." She slipped back into the kitchen, leaving the fragrance lingering in the lounge.

Eventually shiny baubles and lametta had taken their place. There were small candles among the branches, giving off a warm, bright glow. Each one had been very meticulously placed by Arcturus, with highly specific pointers from Linus that often ended up in him rambling about how Christmas decorations used to be done when he was just a boy. Arcturus had taken the time to clean each piece of decor as well; combined with the reflections from the candles and the cluster of reflective surfaces, the entire tree was almost blinding to look at.

Many houses, Arc had learned, placed stars and angels at the top of their Christmas trees. He had been surprised to learn that once he had gone to Muggle school because Hollingburys preferred a golden sun. This one was no different, but Linus was making it very difficult for him to set it on top.

"Is it in the middle yet?" he asked, concentrating with the effort of keeping the golden sun up in the air that high. Usually he wouldn't have had an issue, but it had been fifteen minutes and he was getting tired.

"No, lower an inch."

"An inch is really large, are you s--"

"Don't question me! Make it an inch."

The sun slid down roughly an inch. Linus squinted. "No, too far. Move it up half an inch." Arcturus tried not to groan as the sun shifted upwards. He'd cured people faster than this.

"It's slipped to the right now!" Arcturus squinted up at the top of the tree. The golden sun seemed to be perfectly in the right place, as far as he could tell, but ever cautious he moved it slightly left.

"That looks perfect," said Lydia, emerging from the kitchen with two trays of sweet-smelling pastries. Arc heard his stomach rumble and nearly dropped the sun, but quickly stuck it to the tree and came away feeling as if someone had made him carry a dozen books on his head. He massaged his neck as his mother set the trays down on the table. "That will be for later. No, petherós, don't touch them." She carefully pushed Linus' wandering hand away from them. "They're very hot. Arc, where is your father?"

"He should be returning right about now, I think." Arcturus looked up at the clock, still gingerly rubbing his neck. "He did say twenty minutes, but he might come back earlier--" The hearth sprung to life as he spoke, the fire turning green and blazing fiercely as two fairly elderly people staggered out, followed by his father stepping forwards and gently keeping them upright. At the sight of them, a smile broke out on Arc's face, and his neck was momentarily forgotten as he watched the Kontzoglous recover from a journey they probably wouldn't have had taken for a few decades.

There wasn't much to remember at this point. The Kontzoglous made it bearable to be with Linus. Arcturus admired them for being able to brush off his grandfather's somewhat passive-aggressive remarks about their grandson being far more endearing towards them than towards him, and actually telling him that if he spent less time playing his "rather violent" chess and more time writing to his immediate family, perhaps their relationships would be better.

Really, though, he was just glad that his maternal grandparents were here. As his mother hugged them, greeting them in Greek, he felt his heart lift. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all.


Arc was listening to an engaging conversation between his father and maternal grandfather when Linus finally did what he'd been dreading all along. "So, Arcturus, still in the healing business and all?"

"Yes, I am." The healer speared a piece of roast pork. The Kontzoglous, firmly believing that Christmas should never be without either lamb or pig, had brought this one, and he had been thoroughly enjoying the food. "Why?"

"What was all that ruckus down around December? Healing potions becoming poisons in St Mungo's?" Linus shook his head with an expression of disdain. "Did someone in your hospital finally go cuckoo after dealing with all the patients there?"

Arc was baffled. Normally his grandfather had more respect for the hospital. "No, it was the supplier. Something went wrong in the ordering."

"Someone had too many drinks?"

"We don't know." Arc wanted to eat the piece of pork, but he was wary of his grandfather. He'd been through enough to know how the old man would react. "Still under investigations, though obviously they're stopping for Christmas."

"Well, hope you didn't kill anyone." Linus dusted his fingers of breadcrumbs while Arc quickly ate his pork and ignored his statement. "How are you on the lady front? Still married to your job?"

"It's a busy job, granddad, I don't have a lot of time to date." Arc focused on vegetables. Anything but this conversation. "I'll get to it eventually, don't worry. She'll come when it's time."

"You're just going to let her come to you? Come on, get off your arse and go find yourself a girl you'd take home to your mother! We had to run around after girls, you shouldn't be just expecting them to walk up to you and ask you out! I didn't expect my son to bring you up so rudely." Linus squinted at Arc. "Or are you not interested in them? I know a few of my friends have quite wonderful daughters, let me get you started."

"Ah, uh... no thanks. I'd like to do it in my own time." Arc tried to shove off the old guilt from invading his head again. There was something he felt about him that wasn't right just yet, something that he felt people wouldn't like about him the further or deeper they went with him. He needed time to understand that problem and find an answer to it. "Really. I have things to sort out."

"Boy, you'll be spending years 'sorting' things out if you don't start now," his grandfather said. "Don't tell me you're one of those people who likes men! It's things like that that's making the world go soft in the head these days, men liking men and having sex like animals! If you're one of them, I'm--"

"No, granddad, I'm not," said Arcturus, a little louder than usual. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine on my own. I'm thirty, not eighteen. I'll be fine."

This wasn't what he wanted to remember this Christmas as. Arc refocused on his food, slightly unnerved and frustrated but with no other choice than to keep silent. But there's nothing he can do about it. I am who I am and that's not changing anytime soon. He glanced up to see his mother watching him across the table with some sympathy, but she said nothing. They'd agreed on it, a long time ago - she didn't defend him, it didn't go anywhere suspicious.

Thankfully his grandmother noticed. As she called for the family for presents, Arc sank down in his seat and gently reminded himself to steer all conversation with his grandfather about his sexuality and possible partners into non-existence from now onwards.

Linus' present had been a difficult choice, Arc reflected, as the rest of the family got to their feet to pick up their assorted gifts. He and his father had been sharing money on presents of late, mostly fairly pricey ones that would have taken a large chunk out of their vaults individually. He hoped that the grumpy old man would like it, and just for once not go on about how his presents the previous years had been a lot better.

With the present given to him, Arc and Mordecai stood back. Both of them had shared the price of it between them, as it had been quite pricey and neither of them had come up with individual ideas on what to give. They exchanged a nervous look with each other, unseen by Linus as the wrapping came apart at his touch. His mother was engaging her parents in the kitchen; this had been pre-arranged as father and son had been very nervous and would have preferred others to not watch.

"A chess set," he said flatly. "Well, I'll give you some points on knowing what I like." The deadpan in his voice could have scalded a chicken. "Why are the pieces large blocks of grey stone? Is this some kind of minimalist trend that you young people are so 'hot' into right now? How am I supposed to tell which one's a queen, or a knight, or a bishop?"

Hesitantly Arc reached out and took one of the grey blocks from its velvet depression in the box. Linus' eyes watched him set it with a clink on a white square on the board. Immediately the square glowed, illuminating the board - and the grey block turned transparent, showing the solid statue of a white bishop within it.

"It's, um, meant to represent that when removed from the board the pieces have no value," he explained, fiddling with his fingers a little. "Whether it's a pawn or a queen, they are both equal until placed onto the board."

There was silence. His father had closed his eyes and looked as if he wanted to run. Then Linus looked up at Arc and gave him a rather disgruntled but unmistakeably approving nod. "I like your thinking," he said. "Where did you find this?"

Something that he hadn't expected. Arcturus tried to not look too uneasy. "I didn't know it even existed, dad--"

"Oh, come on," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "You came up with the idea, didn't you?"

"No, dad found it thr--"

"Don't be so modest," he snapped. "He wouldn't be able to think of a new idea on his own! And if it is...well, then I don't want it."

Mordecai sighed and shrugged, clearly resigned. Arcturus tried. "It's Christmas, granddad, we both pitched in because we both thought you'd appreciate it. Come on, we really meant it for you." He smiled apprehensively.

"No, if he isn't capable of thinking up anything on his own then it's yours, you can't say you two shared it..."

It went on for way longer than he felt it should have taken, but eventually Arc gave up and got his grandfather to accept it on the basis that most of the payment was his. It was a lie, but with his grandfather he was always forced to lie.



Arc blew a stream of bluish smoke into the cold night air. Not snowing or raining, but the chill slipped its icy fingers in between the gaps in his scarf and coat, making areas of his skin tingle.

He hadn't wanted to smoke, but he'd been thinking things over too much for Christmas Day. He appreciated the presents, he'd spent enough time with people, but he was tired now. Even among his own family sometimes he just wanted to distance himself and be alone after a while. Either he was becoming heavily antisocial or he had had enough of his interactions with his grandfather.

The healer took a pull on his cigarette, inhaling deeply with his eyes closed, and held the smoke in his lungs. He could feel the surge of relief and relaxation washing over him. It was still edged with some guilt about the habit, but he had an inkling of a notion that now that he had started, he wasn't going to stop so soon.

The smoke emerged from his nostrils in a steady stream. Arc watched it disperse into the night air as his shoulders relaxed.

"And here I was thinking you were too soft to smoke." The healer nearly dropped his cigarette in shock. He turned around to see Linus watching him from the doorway.

"I, uh...you're familiar with smoke?" Arc asked, waving at his cigarette vaguely.

"Of course. Back then if you didn't smoke, you weren't a man." Linus tucked his hands into his pockets. "Nowadays it's all about taking care of yourself, and making sure others don't breathe in your smoke...if they didn't want to breathe it in, they don't have to be there."

Arc smiled half-heartedly. He was standing outside the house for that reason. "But I won't smoke in your house."

"Eh, if you ever want to smoke inside you're welcome to." Linus shrugged. "I'm old enough that I don't care. It won't kill me. Flying a broom a hundred miles in the air would make you die faster than fags. Tell you what, if you ever want to smoke in a house, there's an abandoned place down near the town of Clearwater, near the moors. House belongs to no one, but I own the land down there. Just an old thing passed down from a great-uncle. I'm not letting your father have it, but if you want to smoke with friends..."

"Thanks, but no thanks, granddad." Arc glanced past his grandfather, where he could see the others still catching up with each other. "I'd still rather do it outside, alone."

"Why? Afraid that you'll make everyone else cough?" Linus sneered. "A little smoke won't hurt anyone. It's not like you're burning up a wildfire out here! Maybe you are still soft after all."

Arc took another pull, keeping silent, but apparently his grandfather was having none of that. A wiry hand gripped him roughly around the upper arm and pulled him around to look into the old man's eyes; he tried to pull away but the grip held, much stronger than he'd expect his grandfather to be at his age.

"I don't want you standing there keeping quiet as if you can't take the heat," Linus hissed at him. "I know you side with your father, don't be hiding that from me. Mark my words, you'll just be as soft as he is if you don't stand up for yourself!" He released his grip on Arc's arm, half-shoving him away. "Don't be letting your country down now, just like he did!"

Memories. Arc froze slightly as he remembered. His father's grief at failing to protect his sister, the sadness he'd shown as he'd waved his son goodbye from Platform 9 3/4 that year. The fact that he'd spent months alone, worrying about his family and forced to give names of Muggleborns to less morally-inclined people. If anything, he knew his father still hadn't recovered from all of that.

"Whatever I do is my own choice, granddad," said the healer, anger rising in his voice. "You can think of dad whatever you like, but I'll have my own opinion, thank you very much! You weren't there. You don't know anything about that." He took a few steps away, putting distance between them. "Leave me alone, granddad. I don't want to start anything."

"Did you know your father," he spat this with such ferocity Arc took a few more steps back, "didn't even tell me his daughter was dead until Christmas that year? And you telling me you won't start anything?"

"Yes, I know that." Arc bristled. "I know that because she was my sister. Are you still blaming dad for grandma's death? Because he didn't do anything!"

"You're right. He did nothing." Linus folded his arms across his chest. "And that's why this country's going to the dogs. Just standing by doing nothing. Haven't you heard of the phrase, 'All that is necessary for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing?' That's what happened. If you're going to just stand there and do nothing, let people tear you up, then you might as well give up your life of helping people."

"I'll decide what I need to do, granddad," said Arc, his tone just as cold as the night itself - but only to hide the fact that his grandfather's words had stung him. "I'm doing all that I can within my abilities, and I don't need you to tell me what to do. And you should treat dad better than you do now. He's still your son!"

"By every deity in this world, if I could make him not my son that would be the best thing in my life!" Linus snapped. "I don't want you to be like him, all soft and a pansy like a girl, but it seems you're already a lost cause." He turned on his heel and strode back into the house, leaving Arc alone outside the house.

The healer took a few more pulls on his cigarette in an effort to make himself calm down. His heart was still beating hard, his blood still felt as if it was boiling. For just a brief moment, dark thoughts bloomed in his mind, but he then shut them out, shut them away. It wasn't worth it. He'd not managed to keep up the 'good job' his mother had said to him earlier that night, but it had been too difficult to keep silent. And sometimes, Arc had had enough of keeping silent.

Arc stayed outside until his parents had to leave, and then immediately apparated back to Diagon Alley. A door slamming broke the silence of the brightly decorated alleyway, and then all was quiet once more.

1.	When told, "That seems a little like you're going through a mid-life crisis" Arc's response was "What with the stress of late it's just about as good as one."
2.	Floorplan
3.	Father-in-law