6:27 pm

Moira’s work shift ended at six and she was relatively pleased that she had finished her extra holiday workload shortly after, instead of hours. She had done everything she could to make it home in time. The evening’s get together was important to her uncle even if she was still somewhat uncertain about it.

Lights coming from the distant barn gave away her dad’s location, and aside from the house lights the night was pitch black. Any natural light that might have come from the stars or sliver of the waxing moon had been blocked by the looming rainclouds. Two weeks to the full moon.

Taking a breath, Moira opened the door and stepped inside the house, blue eyes taking in the three men in the living room. “Evening.”

                                                                                                        ”Welcome home, was her uncle’s happy response.

Duncan had told her that morning who would be visiting for dinner, so while it was no surprise to see the hunter or Donnan it still felt a little strange. Company was uncommon. The last time she had seen Kurby he’d been about ready to throw her in a cell. They parted on good terms and his follow up letter had been considerate, at least.

Donnan McBoid was far more complicated. Moira met him at a very serious meeting a few short days after learning he even existed. The idea of having family outside of her dad and uncle hadn’t been one she ever considered before. The witch wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet any more.

The scent of everything Duncan cooked made her stomach growl when she passed by on her way to her room. It all smelled so good. They were drinking beer, but maybe he made coffee too.

                                                                                                         Said uncle glanced over, “Did you skip lunch again?”

“Aye.” Who had time to take a break for lunch anyway? Moira disappeared inside her room.

"Get back into it, definitely," Kurby assured the old man, flicking him a two-fingered salute.  "Not much fun in spendin' all your effort just to keep out of trouble, is there?"

Not that he and Duncan looked for the same sort of trouble these days, he thought as he raised his beer to take a sip.  McBoid was off living his best life looking after winged horses and living with his brother and niece, and Kurby would probably claw his eyes out if he had to tolerate such a quiet existence for more than a week.  Even when they'd been children, apparently they'd looked for different kinds of trouble.  He'd had two older siblings head off to Hogwarts before him, but he'd never felt a yearning to sneak into their trunk or try and tag along.  Hell, the fact that he'd been sorted into the same house as his older sister and brother had been more uncomfortable than anything else.

It had been the war that had brought him and McBoid together, which had caused their definition of trouble to intersect for the briefest period of time.  If the Ministry hadn't fallen, perhaps their paths never would have really crossed: Duncan would have kept at things in the Beast Division for as long as he could tolerate it, and Kurby would have occasionally run into him when he'd bothered to venture out from the Capture Unit office.

The sound of the front door opening had interrupted his thoughts.  It was the wolf girl returned home again, as silent and taciturn as always.  Kurby stayed silent as Duncan initiated an exchange with her; even though he knew that they were related, and although the family resemblance was clear, it was still the first time that he'd seen Duncan and Moira McBoid in the same place together.

He waited until Moira had disappeared through another door before arching an eyebrow at his friend. 

"Bit of a chatterbox, isn't she?" he asked dryly.  "I can see where you McBoids all take after each other."

Ah, so he suspected. Donnan smiled and raised his glass, though the smile didn't quite meet his eyes. He wondered how much Bagnold knew, if anything, about the trouble that the McBoids had faced with the horrible Hunts, or if Duncan had kept it private. He hoped that his nephew had someone to talk to outside of family, but maybe it was enough for now,  to reunite with an old friend who had fought by his side.

Even after battles were won or lost, those left alive had to find their place in the world they'd just changed. Finding a place was another battle, a longer battle, one that never truly ended.

When Moira walked in, pausing to observe all three of them, Donnan sat up straighter, about to rise and give her a proper greeting. He got as far as setting his beer down, and putting his hands on the armrests, when the girl disappeared into her room.

Well. That felt familiar. A taste of his own dour medicine, too.

He sat back in his chair and made a sound between a laugh and a grunt at Bagnold's snark. He wasn't wrong! Still, Donnan hadn't considered how his presence here might make Moira feel. They'd only met each other this month.

"Aye, some days I can't get her to stop," Duncan replied dryly.[1]

Donnan decided he might as well get up anyway. The kid couldn't take too long in her room, could she? She must be hungry.

"I'm going to check on the food," Donnan passed his nephew, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He should relax a little. He'd been cooking all day.

"The food is done," he preemptively stated as he entered the kitchen, the corners of his mouth softening in amusement.

"I'll set the table," he turned to glance at the dining table.

"And you've set it," he grumbled, lifting his hands in exaggerated defeat.

---

About ten minutes later...

The McBoid family plus Kurby Bagnold had settled around the table, their plates full of an assortment of deliciousness. There was an assortment of casseroles, vegetable platters, salads (one of which Donnan swore had been directly placed in front of him, as punishment for all the takeaway he'd consumed over the years). The good stuff was near the end of the table. Roasted turkey and potatoes. Bacon rolls.

With a flick of his wand, he levitated the bacon roll dish closer, and smirked at his nephew. Nice try.

Everyone was seated except for Moira.

Then, the door to her room opened, and the kid emerged, carrying something in her hand.

1.	Okayed by Lyn!

The younger Scotsman didn’t bother trying to hide his grin as he listened to Donnan fuss about checking the food and setting the table. Making sure everything was ready and taken care of before relaxing was a long ingrained habit by this point. Working in the Beast Division, then being in the resistance, cooking most of the meals for the past 13 years, and other activities had all attributed to it.

His uncle had one thing correct. With Moira being home and Angus now coming in through the door (he made the introductions again), it was definitely time to eat.

Getting everyone settled and at the table, aside from his niece, with plates full of food took almost no time at all. Around the time when they finished filling their plates, he saw Donnan’s smirk as he summoned the bacon rolls, Moira appeared from her room.

She looked cleaner, wore fresh clothes, but she carried something unexpected. It was a bottle of beer, which turned out to be for someone else. She carried the bottle over to the table and wordlessly placed it in front of Kurby before she retreated to the kitchen to get coffee for herself. Over the past month she had been drinking more coffee than water it seemed.

Duncan stared at the beer bottle for a few seconds then looked up at Kurby with a raised eyebrow. He tried to make sense of it. Did they have some weird drinking arrangement? Or maybe she had a crush on his old comrade, much older than her? If that were the case he’d be doubly surprised. He hadn't thought Moira knew how to be romantically interested in anyone. Especially since she was already married to work.

He added more casserole to his plate and watched as Moira returned to the table, took a seat and began piling food onto her own plate. No words, no looks beyond the general glance of acknowledgement. She was her usual self. No signs of being lovestruck or anything except hungry.

Shaking his head he looked to Bagnold, “Eat as much as you want. I’d hate to make Donnan suffer with too many leftovers.” He grinned.