It had been a decidedly uncomfortable day. At a ridiculous hour, Iona and Zora had been woken by their daughter banging and stumbling into the apartment after a clearly rowdy night out for the New Year. At 8 that morning, the pair had chosen to wake their daughter rather abruptly, and deliver her an ultimatum. For months, Zora had been growing deeply frustrated with Waverly and her lack of ambition. Iona had ignored the frustration, having rather selfishly found the company at home to be appreciated after 3 years of being out of work. Now, she saw what her wife saw. Now, she realised that their daughter needed a kick up her arse.

After the ultimatum, Waverly had stormed out of the apartment while Zora and Iona had tried to get on with their day. There was a definite tension clear in the air throughout the day, but they’d tried to ignore it.

In the early evening, Zora left. She’d agreed to take a few nightshifts in order to get Christmas free. It surprised Iona how much she actually minded Zora doing the night shifts. It was a strange thing to sleep alone. She did, in fact, barely sleep on those nights. As such, she tended to find herself staying up a lot later than usual in the hopes of sleeping when she took to the empty bed.

It was fairly late when the front door opened. Iona had been relaxed on the sofa with her feet up and a good book. Her curly hair had been pulled back into a scruffy ponytail and she was wearing the warm pyjamas she’d received for Christmas. Taco was sprawled out on her lap. Iona  jumped and span her head to see Waverly make her return. Their only daughter reminded Iona of the feline creature she’d learned to transfigure into. Even their cat Taco would go out wondering for hours at a time. He would always, however, return home for food. Waverly, no matter how angry, always came home for food.

Partly, the red headed witch wanted to stay silent and just ignore her daughter. It would prevent another argument and uncomfortable discussions. But where would that honestly get her? Zora and Waverly were one of a kind when it came to stubbornness, and throughout their time as a family, Iona had always been that bridge, the one to take a first step.

“I plated up some tea for you, love. It’s in the fridge.” She said, not looking up from her book. “Omma’s at work.”

Everything was closed for the holiday and her friends were scarce after last night's revels, so there was sad little to distract Waverly from the family drama. Just to be contrary, she'd Apparated to Edinburgh and did nothing in Scotland rather than doing nothing in London. Then she'd Apparated back, met up with Tam Handrow and smoked a bit over kebabs. Waverly hated Tam and Tam hated her, but that's what made the alliance bearable.

Waverly set her purse on the kitchen island and spared her mum only enough of a glance to confirm it was just her there, just her and the cat.

"I ate," she said even as she opened the icebox to see what it was they'd left her. She felt bad. No matter how much they fought food was a constant.

"Thought she said she wasn't going to work so much," Waverly said. She shut the fridge in favor of filling the kettle.

Iona showed no reaction to Waverly having already eaten. She was the mother of a teenager, and well used to having prepared something only for it to be not eaten because the girl had eaten something far less healthy before returning home. Iona also happened to put it down to a lack of appreciation for her cooking. Neither wife nor daughter ever had an abundance of compliments for the food put before them by the red head. The leftover plate of chilli would no doubt be binned tomorrow.

“She said she’d work less, not retire.” Iona spoke into her book. She heard the fridge door open and close. Then there was water going into the kettle. Taking her wand from beside her on the sofa, Iona pointed it at the mug that had been on the coffee table. It slowly levitated through the air to land on the counter by Waverly and the little tubs of tea and coffee. “Camomile.” She stated her order, placing her wand back on the sofa and turning the page in her book.

A couple of years ago, Zora had insisted that she would be taking less shifts; Iona remembered it clearly. Waverly obviously also recalled the promise. For as long as Iona could remember, her wife’s working schedule had been a recurring point of contention. She’d known and fully accepted it when they were young and just starting out. But she’d seen more and more the effect that having a mother constantly at work had had. Waverly was clearly still quite angry about it which only added to the anger from this morning.

“She agreed to a couple of nightshifts so we could have Christmas. It’s going to be a long night.” It was already late but that made little difference. Nights alone were crap and now Waverly was in a huff, too.

Waverly glanced over her shoulder again when the novelty mug arrived. Her mam was still stuck in her book. By all rights, Iona could have chucked it at Waverly's head and no court would convict her, not with how she'd been treating her parents. Neither side was blameless, but Waverly was grown enough to know she wasn't making anything easy. Fixing up her mam a cup of tea was the least of her obligations.

"Bit of nonsense. You'd think she's accrued some seniority by now. What does she have to do, catch Kingstreet a second time?"[1] She fiddled around in the tins to get the packets ready. Camomile into Mam's statement mug, green into Waverly's plain white one. Damn, why was she doing this. She didn't want to talk about Omma's job or try and figure out what Mam was feeling about being left home on an evening. Waverly peeled off her coat and tried to think better of it.

"Anyway, erm, what about you though? You've gone back."

They'd gone shopping over it. Day of fun, wrestling away Mam's cargos for something with a tailor.

"Is he there?"

1.	Zora was a key player in Kingstreet's recapture after the 2 May 2008 Remembering Day Murders.

As Waverly had a mini rant about Zo having to pull a shitty shift or two, Iona smiled softly into her book. In principle, she agreed. In reality, she knew that having more years and experience didn’t necessarily mean cherry picking work hours. You still went in when you were told, that was the job. It didn’t matter how much Iona hated her wife pulling the night shift, she wasn’t about to kick up a fuss about it. She’d just be there when Zora rolled into bed the following morning. At least until she had to get up for work herself. Like ships passing in the night.

“Maybe.” Something had been mentioned about Kingstreet and Queen G, but Zora couldn’t talk work at home, and Iona tended to be glad of it. There was something very comforting about blissful ignorance when your loved one had spent a career putting her life on the line chasing down dark wizards.

The conversation switched to Iona and now, she did glance up from her book. At least Wav was trying, and not storming off to her room. Iona couldn’t help but imagine that if Zora had been in the living room with her, Wav would have done just that. It wasn’t so nice to be ganged up on, but this morning had been a necessary intervention.

‘He’ could only mean one person.
“He is.” She twisted slightly to glance over the back of the sofa to the girl making tea. “He’s the old me. Minus the dragon meat limb.” The book, open, was placed over Taco who, spread out on her lap, didn’t even flinch. “Apparently the werewolf thing is a problem.”

"Bollocks, what a prat."

Waverly had been younger, but it had gone from Kurby being there for Mam to Kurby being gone. It was a horrible year and Iona needed friends so it was easy to drop a lot of blame on Kurby Bagnold for how bad it got.

"He's just sore you got promoted over him."  Waverly wouldn't admit that her Mam had been prejudice against werewolves. She'd always kept in her head that Iona was helping people. It became harder to believe that as she learned more about the world, but what was she going to do? She was her mum. Besides, everything was different now.

The dark joke that ran through her head was that all Bagnold had to do was let his guard down and then he come move up, just like Mam. But she didn't voice it. It was callous and she'd never wish that on anyone.

Waverly leaned against the counter to face out to Iona and began pulling her hair into a loose bundle. With a deftness, she used a clean plastic chopstick to secure it.

"I'm going to move in with Gabby. I was serious about that."

Iona’s pale lips twisted into a very small smile when her daughter chose to call her former friend a prat. Over the years, both Iona and Zora had shared far stronger words about Kurby Bagnold than ‘prat’. Zora called her boss a ‘prat’, clearly enjoying the word play. Iona had called Kurby far worse.

“He’s sore that I came back at all.” The former werewolf hunter corrected calmly as she gently rubbed Taco behind his ears. He was happily purring away, far too content with the affection to be even slightly bothered by being used as a book rest.

"I'm going to move in with Gabby. I was serious about that." Waverly blurted out. Iona didn’t pause in her stroking of the cat’s head, her eyes down on the feline member of the family. On her turn, he’d avoided her for a while, acting skittish and hissing if she came near. Clearly, he’d settled over time, once more coming to trust her. Iona couldn’t find herself getting accustomed to her daughter’s current behaviour.

Waverly wasn’t moving anywhere. She had no money and currently, no get up and go. Her ambition and enthusiasm had got up and gone.
“You’ve found somewhere?” Iona finally looked up. “You’ll need at least a month’s rent up front. And a deposit. I didn’t know you had that saved up, sweetheart.”

"It's been one day."

Of course she hadn't found anything. She hadn't even brought it up to Gabby who'd been scarce today. But it didn't mean her mind wasn't made up.

"We'll figure something out," she said then turned to the hob to tend to the kettle which was starting to hiss. What her parents didn't know what that Waverly was starting a little niffler nest, what she was making dealing for Tam Handrow. Tam was older, hadn't gone to Hogwarts, so she didn't have the connections Waverly had. Plus, Tam didn't go to the clubs, so another little audience. It wasn't much. Not yet.

She readied the two cups of tea and levitated them over to where Iona was sitting. "Figure you and Omma are right. You're fine now, right? Job done."

Iona stared at her daughter. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and had she been standing, Waverly may have had to pick her up off the floor. Did her daughter just say that she and Zora had been right!? Did their nineteen-year-old offspring actually admit to her mothers being right!? Iona may have had a lot to say about it if what Waverly said next didn’t concern her so much.

“Job done?” The witch frowned, a look of concern crossing her features. “We’re not trying to push you out of your home, sweetheart.” Her mug gently landed back on the coffee table accompanied by Waverly’s. Well, at least it meant that Wav wasn’t planning on disappearing immediately into her room.

“I’m selfish, Wav. I don’t want you to move out. I just don’t want to be woken up at 4am by my unemployed daughter.” Iona gave a sad shrug.

"I'm barely out of school and already I'm a part of the unwashed unemployed?" Waverly scoffed lightly with a smile. "Burden on society. What ever happened to 'gap year' or self exploration? Didn't know I was supposed to just churn right into the machine right away."

Her tone was light, but the sentiment was genuine. How was anyone supposed to know what their life was going to be like? She knew Zora had jumped around for a long time before landing in Auror, but there wasn't anything satisfying to Waverly about scrounging around behind a bar mat and getting sexually harassed while serving food.

"I'm not naive. I just don't want to get stuck."

“I thought I could smell something.” Iona grinned, throwing in her quick response to her daughter’s comment about being unwashed. She grabbed the book, picking it up off Taco and snapping it shut. The movement and sound startled the cat who lifted his head and gave her a meow of disapproval. The book was dropped onto the coffee table and Iona dislodged Taco, swinging her legs around to make room for Waverly. A sharp exhale o breath came from the quick movement, but she didn’t make anything of it, and instead pushed herself to her feet.

It was with jarred and slow movements that Iona moved towards the drinks cabinet which she opened and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. That would help her sleep.
“So, don’t get stuck. Simple.” Apparently, when Zora was working the night shift, Iona channelled her wife. Inwardly, she was quite chuffed with that. A few uncomfortable limps back across the living room and she had returned to the coffee table with the bottle of bourbon.

“We’re not telling you to-” she breathed out deeply, lowering herself to sit back down, “to marry your first job, Wav. Bloody hell, if Omma did that, she’d still be pouring pints and getting felt up by drunken idiots.” She uncapped the bottle and poured a healthy amount into the mug of tea. “Your Gampy did that. Left school at 17 and learned to drive a lorry. He hates it. But he still drives that blasted lorry. I don’t want that for you.”

Waverly wasn't alone in that she always carefully watched her mam take her feet. It was subtle, she never drew attention to it, but there was always that little notation of the stiffness or limp that was becoming more and more normal. Waverly didn't even acknowledge that she did it.

"I pity anyone who ever got handsy with Omma," Waverly mused and got up to set next to Iona. No matter how old she got, a snuggle with her mom always made her feel ten years old again listening to the WWN eating popcorn. She clicked her tongue to lure Taco closer. 

She honestly couldn't imagine Zora any younger than thirty or that anyone would survive crossing her.

"Pst, ki-ki." Taco came over but arched her back just out of reach. Waverly reached out with her toes.

"I'd be shite at driving a lorry," she said knowing that wasn't the point. "I don't know though. Like, this can all end at any second and I don't want to waste a moment faffing around in some mindless, rote ... I don't care about being wealthy or famous, I just don't want to waste my time."

“That’s morbid.” Iona muttered with a frown. The point, however, wasn’t lost on her. Since being a kid, Iona had been the one to eagerly grasp at whatever she could. She’d dived into a job just for the prospect of wrestling werewolves. She’d attempted to do the seven summits until the attack had put a cork in that idea. But while Iona’s idea of not wasting a moment meant thrill and adrenaline seeking, her daughter’s idea meant drinking and partying. To Iona, that was a gross waste.

“It’s a balance.” With a shrug, Iona reached forward and picked up her mug. She twisted on the sofa, pulling up her good right leg where she was now facing Waverly. “Are you going to remember all of those drunken nights, on your death bed?” Waverly wanted to talk mortality, Iona would indulge. “I was convinced I was going to die.” She started. Iona never talked about this with Waverly. Until now. “I didn’t think about all of those experiences or drinking sessions or climbs. I thought about my wife and my daughter. I didn’t wonder if I’d wasted any time. That didn’t matter. You and Omma mattered. That’s it.”

“We’re not rich or well off, or famous. And neither of us chose jobs, no matter what you think. What happened to me was…” she paused, trying to think of the words, “well, it was @%^&ing &*%&#. But that doesn’t mean that I regret my choices. But you will regret sitting around and making nothing of yourself. Because you are wasting time, Wav.”

Really? Waverly was overcome by a wave of fatigue - a weariness brought on by the nearly constant judging from her parents. Last couple years it had been her school work, then when she thought that was done it had turned to careers and making something of herself. They didn't understand. She'd figure it out, but in the meantime she wasn't going to wear a nametag.

"Give it an entire rest, Mam. You can't really want to do this again."

Merlin, couldn't they change the subject? But the only thing Waverly could think to talk about that wouldn't lead them right back around to what Waverly was doing with her life was the next full moon. She winced and drank her tea. Taco couldn't seem to settle, just walking all over them.

Even if Iona wanted to keep on the career thing, keep rehashing the fight they'd been having for months, Wav couldn't bear it. Besides. It was a big deal, first full moon back.

"Full moon's next week," she said, hoping the blunt segue would be well received. "You alright with it?"

Not fair.

Iona’s eyes narrowed marginally as her daughter made to move the conversation from her own failings to the upcoming full moon.

Definitely not fair.

Waverly had developed into her own independent person, a fact which her mothers were pleased with. There were traits, however, that had clearly come from Iona or Zora. Being as blunt as a troll going headfirst into a brick wall? That was Zora. Iona never went in for the kill, and she tried her hardest to avoid this subject in particular. The full moon was a deeply unpleasant experience.

A week before, she would start to feel herself change. Not physically, but the usually calm witch would start to harbour a temper. Even the smallest of things could spark it. A couple of days before, she would begin to take the foul tasting wolfsbane potion; it smelt like arse and it tasted worse. On the day of, she would go to her designated safe house and be locked in a cell. Then, the agony and screaming and the blackout. The following morning, she would wake, naked, on the floor of the cell. Usually, her left leg would feel as if it had been ripped apart. Iona took care on her injured leg, the wolf did not. Then would follow a couple of days of pain, recuperation and vomiting. Up until September 2008, Iona had been a strong and independent witch. Now, every month, her wife got to hold her hair back while she threw up the after effects of Wolfsbane potion and lost her temper at her crippled leg.

So, was she alright with it?

“I’m fine.” Iona took a sip of tea and looked away. She wasn’t going to tell Waverly about all the troubles with Tawse and direwolves or her worry that there would be total disaster this full moon while she was locked away in a cell howling at the moon. “It’s crap, being back but not. The full moon used to the biggest night in my work calendar. Now I get to read all the reports, instead. Head Quill Pusher…”