And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return."
Nature Boy by Nat King Cole


1130 hours, Spectre Estate


A steady drizzle fell across the woodland that surrounded the manor. It was a grey and miserable morning but, down where the trees rose from verdant earth, the world was curiously alive. Rainwater and fresh streams trickled down lush slopes, between mossy rocks. Autumn was still new - the canopies above their heads only beginning to shed damp leaves to forest floor. The air was redolent of dirt and grass and fresh turned soil. Balfour picked his way past the overgrown roots of a monstrous yew as he led his son further into the wood.

“Careful,” he offered Feliks a hand, gratified when it was accepted. “I sprained my ankle here, when I was about your age.”

The young wizard was appropriately wrapped up for the weather, although it had taken a while to find clothes that would fit from the cloakroom in the hall. They were always in possession of raincoats and wellies and gloves to spare in every size, the inevitable result of having so many of the clan’s families visit every year. Feliks continued to hold his hand once they reached level ground, where a more identifiable footpath could be discerned cutting through the towering trees. Raindrops assaulted their jackets, pat-pat-pat.

Birds and insects, though not visible, called out peacefully from above. ”This all is yours?” Feliks squinted, staring up at what little of the sky could be seen past the branches.

“Ours,” Balfour amended with a smile. “The clan. You can walk a long time before you spot civilisation but we’re only going down to the lake. You can bring your friends swimming here in the summer, if you’d like.”

Feliks could not even imagine coming home to somewhere like this, much less inviting friends he had yet to meet. He looked around him with wide, attentive eyes. It was so green here. And the earth, squishing beneath their boots, was so soft. Not like the countryside where he grew up - a hard and unrelenting landscape. Still, as new and exciting as this was, he kept glancing up at his papa.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and received an expression that was both surprised and amused.
            “Of course I am.” A brief pause.“Why do you ask?”
“Nothing.”

Maybe it was not polite to mention the tears he had seen in Balfour Spectre’s eyes when they both looked up from the kitchen table earlier this morning. Feliks hadn’t been sure what to make of it, except both wizards seemed exceptionally relieved… so maybe it was a good thing. They walked a little further in silence, until the path opened up on to a shoreline that curved around a dark loch. The waters were black and choppy. Large boulders, overgrown with lichen or vine, were piled up to form a kind of natural diving spot.

Feliks let go of his papa’s hand without thinking and ran towards this, breathless. He heard a laugh behind him and he almost turned around because that was the first time he had heard Balfour laugh. “Watch your footing!”

The rocks were slippery but there were many well-worn grooves to help him on his way as he clambered up to what he hoped was a good vantage point. It was a surprisingly quick climb, and before he knew it he found himself on the uppermost boulder; a large, flat affair overlooking the stormy lake.

The drizzle had stopped from now. Feliks carefully walked to the edge, staring at the water and the woodland, breathing in so much of the damp air his chest hurt.

            “Not a bad view, is it?” his father was suddenly behind him and Feliks startled, slipping as he tried to turn.

Balfour quickly caught the lad, grabbing him from under his arms. “Whoah there!” he laughed again, “Just me. Sit down. It’s not a bad drop if you fall but the water’s bloody cold in August.”

They carefully lowered themselves on to the boulder, a sudden gust of wind shoving their hoods off their crowns. It really was miserable weather. He hoped it would be a beautiful spring next year, so that they could go for fine walks with the dogs. Him and Johann and Feliks. A family, all of a sudden. He had felt wretched and furious with himself when the relation elixir revealed the truth… this hadn’t been how he wanted to start a family. How he should have reacted to this poor child, deprived of one.

Now, in the outdoors, that anger subsided.

“I’m sorry.” Balfour reached over, tousling messy dark curls. “About how I acted, when you gave me the letter. I’ll try to make it up to you, aye? Promise.” He grinned at the awkward way Feliks ducked his head. The tips of those curls turned pink, briefly.

            “Okay.” Feliks nodded and looked away. “I understand.”

Maybe he did. Balfour wasn’t sure. The fact that the red hair was now very stubbornly brunette, that his face carried the same sharp slant as Johann’s own… it was telling. He didn’t want to pry so he didn’t ask. Feliks owed him nothing, whereas Balfour owed his son everything. They watched the lake together, and talked about other things instead.

What was the Cottage like? Did you play sports? Do you miss your friends there? Do you like to read? What do you like to read?

Nobody had ever asked Feliks as many questions as he was trying to answer now! He did not want to be rude and he tried his best to explain himself, to describe his old home and how he spent his time there. It was easier to talk out here than it had been in that big house. Feliks was still astounded that it was only his papa and Johann!

He already missed Johann a little. It was getting cold out here.

A heavy arm draped itself across his back, and Feliks realised he’d been shivering. He looked up: his father was giving him an odd look. Concerned. ”Can you swim, by the way?”

“I never tried,” he shook his head, which earned him a fond smile from the wizard. Like he was remembering something funny. “Could my mother swim?” Feliks spoke before he could stop himself, and the smile dropped off Balfour’s face so fast it mightn’t have been there at all.

            “Probably. Do you have any… any other questions? About the article? About her?”
“No.” Feliks looked down at his rain boots, khaki green against grey stone. “Why should I? She didn’t want me.”

Balfour felt something in his chest twist at the tone of Feliks’ voice, the unerring surety of it. What could he say to that? It was true, he supposed, that Ira didn’t want their son. But she’d kept the boy alive all these years and that meant a lot - for someone like her. He just didn’t know how to explain such a notion to Feliks. Wasn’t even sure if it was something that could be explained if you had never met the witch herself.

“Well. We want you.” Bal lifted his arm and nodded in the direction of the manor. “Afraid you’re stuck with us, Feliks. Lots of family to meet now. Come on - better get a move on before it starts pouring again.” He pushed himself off the boulder to stand, regaining his balance before helping the young wizard up. The wind was getting stronger, strong enough to blow a man off the ledge. “Johann will kill me if I bring him back a half frozen boy.”

Feliks laughed and it was, to date, one of the best things Balfour had ever heard in his life. Right up there with Johann’s decadent voice and the deep, purring growl of a Hungarian Horntail. Or rainfall in the autumn, or crackling fires in the drawing room, or bells ringing at Christmas.

“Let’s get you home."