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Arcturus stepped out of the fireplace, shaking soot from his hair and dusting it off his shoulders. The house should be brightly lit with Christmas decorations and his parents getting ready to head off as usual.

Two out of three wasn’t so bad, but he was alarmed all the same. Christmas decorations? Yes. Brightly lit? Yes. Parents? Not a soul to be seen. For a moment the healer stood in front of the hearth, absolutely still as he tried to listen out for a sound.

There was a clatter of something from the kitchen. “Mum?” he called out tentatively. She emerged, wiping her hands on a cloth.

“Oh, Arc!” They embraced, Arc perhaps hugging her a little tighter than normal. “I didn’t expect you to be here so early - thought you might still be at work!”

“I take Christmas Day off, mum.” He pulled away, smiling a little at her. “Wouldn’t dream of not spending time here.”

“Not until you get married, that’s what you mean.” The healer shook his head while she beamed at him. “I’m joking. I know you’ll always come home. Why are you still wearing your coat?”

“Are we… not going over to granddad’s?” Arc cranked an eyebrow. When his mother shook her head, the other lifted. “Why not? We… always do.”

“Not this Christmas, I’m afraid.” Lydia tugged at her son’s scarf gently; he complied, slipping it off. “Your father’s word. He was very firm on this.”

Arc took off his coat, looking around the living room to confirm the lack of his father’s presence. “Where is he? Out getting something?”

“Seeing your grandfather.” Lydia pointedly tugged at the coat in her son’s arms. Arc finally gave in to the idea that they really weren’t going anywhere and drew his wand, sending both coat and scarf to the hooks behind the front door. “He said it would be better if he went alone.”

This wasn’t about Morgana, was it? he thought. For a moment he was uncertain, worried that he’d accidentally started something. His father was just as stubborn as he was in keeping emotions to himself, and unless it led to an emergency there was no convincing him to spill those secrets. But his mother had no idea… and she was better off not knowing. If his father didn’t want to mention it - and he knew there was little that his parents hid from each other - then it could go without being said.

He followed his mother into the kitchen, where another question bubbled up in his mind the moment he saw the table.

“Is dad not coming home for dinner?” he asked, sitting down. “There’s only…”

Lydia sighed as she took the lid off a pot, freeing a veritable variety of aromas into the air. Arc couldn’t help breathing in deeply. “He said he might be back home late, and requested that I keep some warm for him, in case he comes back after we’re done.”

There was only one Christmas they had celebrated without the full family - not counting Alethea’s absence. This was beyond strange, even for Arc. His mind wandered to the possibility that his father had gone to confront his grandfather about the matter, which… was not a pleasant thought to entertain. As he watched his mother dole out the lamb yiuvetsi unseeingly, he only hoped his father was alright.

She set the plate down, or at least would have tried if he hadn’t reached out mid-setting to take it from her. “He did say he hoped to be back before you left for Diagon. Let’s hope he manages to do so, and focus on something happier in the meantime.” She smiled at him as she picked up her plate. Arc got up from his seat.

“Let me,” he said gently. His mother sank into her chair in surprise and watched as he waved his wand over the pot, letting the ladle to do the work. “You really don’t have to, Arc.”

“I do. Besides, you always forget your wand’s around…” Arc sat down and gave her a kind look as the ladle obediently finished its task. “You really shouldn’t work your hands so hard these days.”

“Oh pssh I’m still young. And you’re one to talk!”

Arc conceded the point with a chuckle. For a while all was quiet save for the sound of cutlery against china. Then Lydia, lifting her glass of wine, took the chance to speak. “So, how’s your relationship chances lately? No,” she added with a chuckle, seeing her son roll his eyes, “this is never going to die.”

He had to swallow before answering her. “I just haven’t had time. I was on call until October, November’s been quiet and busy at exactly the same time. Suddenly it’s December and you’re asking me this.” He looked apologetic. “Surprise.”

“What about your housemate? Mordent? What’s her first name-- Elixa, that’s it.” His mother would always remember. “That didn’t amount to anything else?”

“She’s qualifying to be a Healer soon. Lots of work, teaching her, testing… there was very little space for anything else.” He busied himself with pulling meat from bone.

“And Johann? Do you still keep in contact with him?” She smiled. “I miss seeing him around, you know.”

Arc had to pause for a moment, eyes focused on his plate. “I do too.” That was not a lie.

“So, no one?” He shook his head. She looked dejected, but shrugged. “I hope you do find someone. Pass on my regards to the two of them, won’t you? And congratulations to Elixa.”

“She hasn’t sat the--”

“She’ll pass with flying colours.” Lydia was pleasantly confident with that answer. After a moment Arc conceded she was most likely right, and dinner continued without further interruptions.

It was almost ten when Arc finally rose from the dinner table, sufficiently stuffed and, though the empty chair by their side was oddly out of place, he was at least glad to see his mother. “I should get going, I work tomorrow. Night and graveyard. Not looking forward to it.”

“They really work you too hard.” She watched him drape his coat and scarf over one arm. “Stay safe and keep well, won’t you? As always, Merry Christmas… and I do hope you have a good new year.”

“You too, mum.” They would have hugged again, except that this time the fire flared and a familiar, tall figure stepped out from the flames. Arcturus scanned his father’s face worriedly, looking for something - anything to indicate what he’d gone over to do. Nothing, really - he was a master at facades, frankly.

“Hey Arc.” Mordecai wrapped one arm around his son since the other still had a coat coming off; Arc graciously accepted the hug. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you in time. Had to visit your grandfather.”

“Mum told me.” He looked at his mother, who was looking expectantly at her husband. “Everything, really.”

Mordecai smiled. “Well, it was hardly anything. He insists on yearly visits, and yes I did give him your baking,” he added at the sight of Lydia’s pointed gaze. “But I don’t think you two need to go… honestly, for the best. It’s not like you ever enjoyed it, and I think we’re done with having that kind of Christmas.”

Arc saw his mother’s expression, but knew she wouldn’t discuss it in front of their son. He shrugged. “You won’t find me complaining. I’ll head off now, work in the morning, too much to do, not enough time.” He gave his mother the delayed hug and stepped into the fire, looking back at them as he did so. To another year of not letting them down, he thought, as the flames engulfed him.