FIC: Ash's Story, Part 1 of 3

[geri_chan]

Title: Ash's Story, Part 1 of 3
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ash/Takeshi (past tense); pre-slash hints between Ash and a new OC
Word count: ~7,500
Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Warning #1: Child abuse
Warning #2: AU; this is a continuation of the Always series so I'm tagging this as snupin, but the main focus is on Ash the werewolf OC from Aftermaths, and Snape and Lupin appear only briefly at the end. 
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, and The Revenant. (The beginning of the story starts a couple of days after the ending of Aftermaths, at about the same time as The Revenant, but most of the story is a flashback to Ash's childhood.)
Summary: The story of how Ash became a werewolf, and his struggle to adapt to his postwar life.

***

Ash Randolf's world had turned upside-down in the space of a few short weeks. One day he was an outcast werewolf on the fringes of society, scraping together a living by smuggling Muggle merchandise and dealing in the black market, and was in fact sitting in a cell in Azkaban for that very crime, and then the next day (okay, well, technically the next week) the Minister of Magic himself was offering Ash a job at the Ministry. Not to mention the fact that his pack leader, who had once been as scruffy and disreputable as the rest of the pack, had turned out to be a pureblood heir, and was now Lord of the Diggory estate. In fact, he intended to open up the mansion and let the pack live there. Ash shook his head; this all seemed a little surreal to him, as if he had stepped into the pages of a fairy tale.

"Don't you like it, Ash?" Katherine asked.

"Huh? Oh...the robe is fine, I guess. I was just...er...woolgathering, I suppose."

"Well, pay attention!" the other werewolf scolded. "This is all for your benefit, after all."

His sudden change in fortune was why Ash was in Madam Malkin's today, shopping for new clothes suitable for a job at the Ministry. Katherine, a fellow werewolf from his pack, had been hired back at her old job as a seamstress there, with Madam Malkin's apologies, after the anti-werewolf frenzy had died down when it had been proven that the Auror Williamson had faked the so-called werewolf attacks. A recommendation from Arthur Weasley that the fired werewolves be restored to their former positions probably hadn't hurt, either.

Lukas was taking a honeymoon with his new bride, and none of the other werewolves except for Brian and Aric knew enough about respectable pureblood society to know what kind of clothing would be appropriate for working at the Ministry of Magic. Which was why Ash had found himself clothes shopping in Diagon Alley with Takeshi and Aric today, somewhat against his will. He didn't want to be shopping for fancy clothes in the first place, and he didn't particularly want to be doing it with the new lover of a man that he had almost fallen in love with.

Well, actually he had fallen in love with Takeshi, just a little, the night that the young mediwizard had sought comfort in his embrace. Which was stupid of him, and totally unexpected, because Takeshi had made it very clear from the beginning that he wanted nothing more than a one night stand, and Ash had not been seeking a permanent lover, either. He'd had no desire to settle down, and had been content to take casual lovers among the pack--physical pleasure shared between friends, by mutual consent and with no strings attached. In fact, he had secretly been a little proud of the playboy reputation he had garnered, in spite of--or perhaps because of--the long scar running across the left side of his face. He was a little self-conscious about it, but his lovers all claimed that it made him look roguishly handsome, like a pirate.

He was very fond of Takeshi, but he had never thought of him as anything more than a friend up until then. Ash had propositioned his friend more to distract him from his grief than anything else. He had not even really minded when Takeshi had called him by another name in bed, being more curious about who Takeshi was pining over than offended by that slip of the tongue. But a strange thing had happened that night, as he listened to Takeshi's tale of a doomed relationship with a pureblood heir, and tried to comfort him, first with words and then with his body. He had felt a desire to protect Takeshi and shield him from pain, which was similar to the desire he had to protect his packmates, but mingled with a tenderness he had never felt before--a desire to comfort Takeshi, and kiss away his pain, and make him smile. For the first time, he had felt the desire to bite his partner--not just a playful nip, but the desire to mark and claim his mate. Only, however much he might have desired it, he knew that Takeshi was not his mate. He had scoffed at some of the younger pack members' romantic notions of lifemates, borne out of the myth that werewolves mate for life, which in turn had been inspired by the fact that real wolves normally did mate for life.

But when he had looked into Takeshi's eyes, he had somehow known without needing to be told that Takeshi was never going to love anyone but Aric, even if Aric married someone else. And at the very moment that Ash had realized that he did want more than a casual fling after all, he had also realized that it would be impossible. It would be an exaggeration to say that his heart had broken at that moment, but he had felt a pang of wistful regret for what might have been.

He had said nothing of his feelings to Takeshi, of course, because it would only have made his friend feel guilty. They had both agreed that this was only a casual encounter, and it wasn't Takeshi's fault that Ash's heart had suddenly decided not to play by the rules. So Ash had smiled and laughed as if nothing had happened, gently teasing his friend out of his misery.

He had been tempted to continue their liaison beyond one night; Takeshi would probably have been amenable so long as he believed that Ash did not want anything from him other than friendship. But Ash had known that he would not be able to keep his emotions separate from the physical act of lovemaking, and would likely end up hurting them both--himself, by falling more deeply in love with someone who could not return his feelings, and Takeshi, because he would blame himself for hurting Ash. Perhaps if Aric had actually married Miranda, Ash might have been willing to settle for being second-best, willing to accept whatever Takeshi had left in his heart to give, knowing that most of his heart would always belong to Aric.

But Aric had willingly become a werewolf, giving up his fiancee and his pureblood inheritance. Ash thought it was all for the best, really. He cared enough about Takeshi to want him to be truly happy, even if it was with someone else. And Aric had risked his life in order to save Lukas, for which Ash was grateful. Ash had even found that he liked the boy once he got to know him, much to his surprise. But it still hurt, just a little, to see the two of them so happy together.

"How many robes do I really need, anyway?" Ash complained. "Lukas just bought me a new one, after all."

"That's a dress robe for formal occasions," Aric said. "You also need good quality but slightly less formal robes for everyday wear at work. Wool robes for fall and winter, and lighter robes for spring and summer--and trousers and shirts to wear beneath them, of course."

"That one looks good on you," Katherine said approvingly.

"Are you sure?" Ash asked dubiously. "It doesn't make me look like Snape?" The robe that he was trying on was indeed similar to the type that the Potions Master usually wore--black with a high collar, nearly floor-length.

"Your nose would have to be a lot bigger," Aric joked.

"You look very handsome," Takeshi said reassuringly, and Aric scowled at him. Takeshi laughed and whispered in a voice that only a werewolf could have heard, "There's no need to be jealous, my wolf."

Aric relaxed and smiled. It was extremely obvious, at least to Ash, that the two of them had consummated their relationship. Well, for one thing, they had been living together for a couple of days now, and if Aric hadn't taken the opportunity to make love to his mate, then he was a complete idiot, which Ash didn't think he was. But mostly, it was an air of intimacy that had not been there before when Ash had last seen them together at Lukas's wedding. Although it had been clear that they loved each other, there had been a certain nervousness and awkwardness between them that had since vanished. They seemed relaxed in each other's company now, and there was a look of peace and contentment in their eyes. There seemed to be an invisible but nearly tangible bond between the two of them, as if they were always aware of each other's presence, even when they weren't physically touching or even looking at each other. It was something in the way that Takeshi turned towards Aric as he laughed, and in the way that Aric leaned closer to hear what he whispered, almost but not quite touching his lover. It was in the way that they seemed to be able to communicate without speaking, a smile and a glance conveying love and affection without any need for words.

Once again Ash reminded himself that things had worked out for the best; Takeshi could never have formed so deep a bond with someone who was not his true lifemate. They might have found a measure of happiness together, but it would never have come close to what Takeshi and Aric now shared. Still, Ash felt another pang of regret as he watched them, wondering if he would ever share such a bond with a mate of his own. Yet at the same time, he wondered if he was really capable of loving someone that way, of opening himself up so completely to someone else. Maybe he had only fallen in love with Takeshi because he had known that nothing would come of it...which probably would not have made sense to anyone else, but it did to Ash, in a perverse sort of way. Although it would have been better not to fall in love at all...

"Ash, stop daydreaming!" Katherine scolded. "Here, what about this one?" She held up an outfit that was more of a suit than a robe--a long, navy-blue coat with matching vest and tie.

"Oh, please tell me that I don't have to wear a tie!" Ash groaned plaintively. "Why don't you just put a dog collar around my neck while you're at it?"

Aric laughed good-naturedly. "I don't think that a tie really suits him, Katherine. We should stick to traditional wizard's robes--"

"And no lace or ruffles!" Ash interjected.

"No lace or ruffles," Aric agreed, as Takeshi and Katherine chuckled. "Nothing too flashy or gaudy or trendy. I'm sure that at least half the Ministry thinks that Arthur Weasley's lost his mind, hiring a werewolf. If you at least dress conservatively, it will subconsciously set their minds at ease a little."

"Reassure them that I'm not going to gnaw on the furniture or have their children for lunch?" Ash asked sarcastically.

"Something like that," Aric replied calmly. "So...something simple and conservative, in dark, sober colors--black, blue, and gray, I think; you would look rather silly in pastels. Maybe a dark green, nothing too bright. But the cloth should be expensive and high quality; they won't respect you if you wear cheap or patched robes. Appearance is everything to the purebloods."

Ash growled irritably. "No matter how pretty I look, it won't negate the fact that I'm a werewolf."

Everyone laughed, then Takeshi said, "No, but Aric is right. People respond differently to Lukas now that he dresses and behaves like a Lord. They may not like him, but he commands a grudging respect from them."

"It's not really just the robes," Aric admitted. "It's also in the way he carries himself. Don't let the people at the Ministry intimidate you. Just act as if you consider yourself their equal. Which you are by law, even if they don't think so. If anything, you're better than they are--you at least are loyal to your pack, while most of them would gladly sell their mothers into slavery..." He smiled ironically, with a touch of bitterness. "...or their sons and daughters into arranged marriages, in exchange for a promotion." Takeshi placed a hand on his shoulder, a look of concern in his eyes, and the bitterness in Aric's face eased, to be replaced by a genuine smile.

"Can you two lovebirds moon over each other on your own time?" Ash complained, trying to keep his tone of voice light and joking to cover up the twinge of jealousy he felt.

"They can't help it; they're newlyweds!" Katherine teased, and Takeshi and Aric laughed sheepishly.

"Yes, but we are supposed to be clothes shopping," Takeshi said, blushing a little. "Why don't you bring out another set of robes for Ash to try on?"

Clothes shopping, Ash decided, was only slightly less excruciating than getting one's teeth pulled--in fact, he might have preferred the teeth-pulling. At least his companions seemed to get a great deal of amusement out of dressing him up like an oversized doll. There was just a touch of vindictive pleasure on Aric's part, Ash suspected. Although they had reached accord as pack brothers, Aric seemed to have guessed that there had been something going on between Ash and Takeshi in the past, and he probably didn't mind watching his rival squirm a little. Ash didn't really hold it against him; it was in a wolf's nature to be possessive of its mate.

Finally, though, he wound up with two large shopping bags filled with clothes, and a few more items that needed some alterations to be delivered later. Ash, of course, had not yet started his job and had no salary to draw on, but Lukas had left instructions for Malkin's to charge it to the Diggory account. Ash shook his head slightly, still finding the idea of Lukas being a Lord and having a Gringotts account rather mind-boggling.

He politely declined an offer to have lunch with Aric and Takeshi afterwards. They probably wanted some time alone together, still being in the "newlyweds" phase as Katherine had joked, and he didn't particularly want to watch them being lovey-dovey with each other.

He could have taken the Floo home or Apparated, but he decided to walk home instead, to give himself some time to think. And as he walked, he decided that he was not so much jealous of Aric specifically for having Takeshi (well, maybe just a little), but rather jealous of the closeness that they shared. He longed to find that same kind of closeness with a mate of his own, but at the same time he feared it. He loved his pack, but that was not the same thing. He had always kept a small part of himself guarded even from them; he had never shared the entire story of his past with any of the pack, although he had told Lukas a little about it. His childhood had hardly been one conducive to fostering love and trust, but he couldn't really claim that as an excuse. Just about everyone in the pack had a tragic story in their past, and painful memories that they wanted to forget. All of them, even Aric, had been cast out by their families. Lupin, who was not really part of the pack, was the only werewolf that Ash personally knew whose family had accepted him and done their best to love and support him. Ash's family had been exactly the opposite; they had never wanted him even before he became a werewolf. He had been nothing more than a mistake, an afterthought, an inconvenience to both his parents.

He happened to pass by a mother and child walking hand-in-hand, the little boy eagerly asking if they could stop by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Fortescue's as the mother smiled indulgently and nodded. A wave of bitterness and something that was close to nostalgia washed over Ash--only it couldn't really be called nostalgia, because nostalgia was a yearning for the past, and Ash had certainly never experienced a loving, carefree childhood. He wondered if it was possible to miss something that you'd never had to begin with. He had experienced a brief, fleeting period of happiness, but he had known even then, as young as he had been, that it was only an illusion.

Ash continued to brood as he walked down Diagon Alley, his thoughts turning back to the days when he had not yet been Ash Randolf, but a little boy named Ethan Parker...

***

Five-year-old Ethan Parker was disgrace to his family. He knew this because Great-Aunt Ernestine constantly harped on how his very existence was a stain on the family honor, and how his mother had shamed the Parker family by giving birth to a bastard child. And when they were alone, his mother Rosalind would sullenly tell him that it was all his fault that she had been sent to live in exile with her sour old spinster aunt instead of going to dances and parties like other young women her age, that he had ruined her chance of ever making a proper marriage.

Rosalind was a very pretty woman--a little too pretty for her own good, Great-Aunt Ernestine often said in a tart voice. She had shining locks of chestnut hair that tumbled across her shoulders in soft waves, golden-brown with a hint of red, like autumn leaves. She had long lashes, hazel eyes, and full, sensual lips that were normally set in a sullen pout these days, although she looked truly beautiful on the rare occasions when she smiled. Ethan had his mother's eyes, but his hair was straighter and a darker shade of brown, perhaps a gift from his unknown father; Rosalind had never told Ethan what he looked like.

Rosalind's looks had gotten her into trouble as a girl who had just graduated from Hogwarts. She came from a middle-class family who claimed to be purebloods, but were unable to trace their family tree as far back as the likes of the Blacks or the Malfoys. As a girl, Rosalind had desperately wanted to break into the circle of the pureblood elite, but they had only sneered at her and accused her of having "pretensions beyond her station."

But she had caught the eye of a handsome boy from a wealthy pureblood family, and they had started a secret romance. Secret, of course, because he couldn't tell his family and friends about her, but he had courted her with flowers and and jewelry and poetry and lavish flattery about her beauty, and Rosalind had allowed herself to be won over. He had told her that he loved her, after all, and she had been sure that eventually she could convince him to marry her. He was her best chance at an advantageous marriage and becoming a part of the glittering high society that had always dazzled her.

But when she became pregnant, her lover had laughed in her face at the suggestion that they wed, and accused her of trying to entrap him, which she had tearfully denied. She couldn't prove her blood purity, he said, and he would not sully his bloodline with mongrel blood. "I would be the laughing stock of the wizarding world," he had sneered, then flung a handful of gold coins at her and told her to get an abortion.

She could have purchased an illicit potion that would force a miscarriage, but she had put it off--much to her regret, she often told Ethan--hoping that she could somehow persuade her lover to change his mind. But she had waited too long, and by the time that it finally became obvious to her that he would never marry her, so too was her pregnancy obvious to her family, and it was too late for her to safely abort the child without endangering her own life.

Her parents had been furious, and her father had quickly packed her off to live in the countryside with his spinster sister. Ernestine, a sour and bitter old woman, seemed to take great pleasure in making both Rosalind and Ethan as miserable as possible by letting them know at every opportunity how they had disgraced the family and by telling them how grateful they should be that she had deigned to take them in.

So Ethan spent the first five years of his life in exile, with only a spiteful great-aunt and a resentful mother for company. Ernestine's house was located in a remote location in the countryside, which was of course why Rosalind and Ethan had been sent there (the better to hide a disgraced daughter and a bastard grandchild), and they had no close neighbors and few visitors. Rosalind's parents stopped by occasionally, no more than once or twice a year, to visit their errant daughter, but they always ignored Ethan and never spoke to him directly, referring to him as "that boy" when they talked to Ernestine and Rosalind.

His mother and great-aunt saw to it that he was fed and clothed, and taught him to read and write, but that was about it. If he was lucky, they ignored him, because when they paid attention to him, it was only to scold, berate, and lecture him. His Christmas presents from them were always clothes, never toys, while his grandparents sent him a few copper Knuts every year, which served to emphasize their contempt for him more than if they had sent him nothing at all. He had nowhere to spend them, anyway--Ernestine would take the Floo or Apparate to the closest village to buy groceries, but Ethan and Rosalind were never allowed to come with her. He received no birthday presents, because his birthday was not an occasion to celebrate, but rather marked the ruin of his mother's life and reputation--or at least, that was what his aunt told him, with an air of spiteful satisfaction.

Since he had no toys, the only form of entertainment that the house had to offer Ethan were the books in his aunt's small library. Most of them were rather dry and dull texts on history, etiquette, and genealogy, but there were a few battered tomes of fairy tales, as well as a collection of stories about King Arthur. Ethan thought they must have been left there by a previous occupant of the house; he could not picture Ernestine reading fairy tales even as a child. Well, actually, he could not picture her as a child at all. The books allowed him a small measure of escape, where he could pretend that he was a knight or a wizard on a quest, temporarily held captive by an evil witch (Ernestine, of course). Sometimes he would spin fantasies in his mind where his father would show up to rescue him, welcoming him as his long-lost heir, and his mother would be happy and smile at him lovingly instead of hating him. But even as a five-year-old, Ethan knew that this was only a fantasy and would never come true.

And even the books could only hold a five-year-old's attention for so long before he grew bored and restless. Physically, at least, he was a normal, healthy, and active child, and running around the house or playing too noisily would earn him a scolding from Ernestine and end up with him being sent to his room without supper. So Ash often slipped out of the house to play in the woods--which would also result in a scolding and a lost meal, but at least he had the pleasure of being outdoors, away from his aunt and mother, where he could run around and make as much noise as he wanted, climbing trees or playing at being a wizard or a knight, with a stick of wood serving as both wand and sword. And when he was especially restless and no amount of scolding would cause him to sit still and his mother and aunt were both sick of having him underfoot, they would sometimes pretend not to notice when he snuck out of the house. After all, there were no neighbors nearby, so what did it matter if he ran around the woods, so long as no one saw him?

But one day, Ethan wandered far enough to encounter his nearest neighbors, although they were not really "near" the house at all. The closest inhabited property was a large farm belonging to a wealthy Muggle-born wizard who was away a great deal on business, although he had a full staff of servants who attended to the farm and house. Ethan had heard Ernestine mention it over tea one day, and of course he was curious to see what the farm and its inhabitants were like.

It was easy enough to find; he simply followed the road (which was really more of a dirt path), although he stayed off the road itself, walking parallel to it and trying to stay under the cover of brush and trees whenever possible. He didn't want to be caught and sent back home, after all.

Finally he reached the outskirts of the farm, a large orchard of fruit trees (although he later learned that the farm also cultivated herbs and magical plants). It was a long way for a little boy to walk, and he was tired, hungry, and thirsty. He had not thought to bring any food or water with him, and the ripe red apples in the trees looked very tempting; surely they wouldn't miss just one...or maybe two. So he climbed up the nearest tree, as agilely as a squirrel, crawled out onto a sturdy-looking branch, and plucked a couple of apples. He quickly polished them off, letting the cores fall to the ground as he licked the sweet juice from his fingers. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree with a satisfied sigh; his perch felt quite comfortable, and he thought he would rest for just a minute before continuing his exploration...

But he must have dozed off, because he awoke to the sound of startled shouting from below, and he nearly fell out of the tree.

"Boy! What do you think you're doing up there?"

"Take it easy, he's just a kid! Careful, kid, don't fall."

Ethan grabbed hold of the branch more securely and cautiously peered down to see several farmhands standing beneath the tree.

"The boss won't like some brat stealing his apples," the first man grumbled.

"Come on down, kid," the second man said in a much kinder voice. "It's just a couple of apples; you're not in that much trouble."

Actually, Ethan was going to be in a great deal of trouble if his aunt and mother heard about this. They might keep him locked up in his room for the rest of his life--or worse, the basement, where there were no windows he could easily sneak out of. He tried to calculate his chances of climbing down and running away before anyone could catch him, and as if reading his mind, the second man said, "Might as well come on down and face the music, kid; there's nowhere for you to go."

And then Ethan heard a neigh and the sound of hoofbeats, and a man rode up on a horse. He was much better dressed than the other men, who were obviously laborers. He must be the owner of the farm, Ethan realized, and was so fascinated with the arrival of the man and the horse (he had never seen a real one before, only pictures in his fairy tales) that he forgot to be worried.

"What is going on here?" the man on the horse demanded.

"Caught an apple thief, Mr. Madley," the first man said, pointing up at the tree.

"I'm not a thief!" Ethan protested indignantly.

"Oh?" Madley said, raising an eyebrow. "Then what are you doing in my tree, young man?"

Ethan smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eat your apples. I only wanted to get a look at the farm, but I walked so far and I was really hungry and they looked so good...I didn't think anyone would miss one or two." Then an idea occurred to him; maybe those Knuts his grandparents had given him for Christmas would come in handy after all. "I can pay you back," he offered, then realized that he had no idea how much apples cost. "If they aren't too expensive, that is." He began counting on his fingers; he had received three Knuts for every year of his life, which added up to... "I have fifteen Knuts; is that enough? Um...I'd have to go home to get the money, though." But his aunt would have a fit if she heard about this... "If you let me go, I promise I'll bring you the money tomorrow," Ethan said earnestly.

Madley gave him a bemused look and said, "Come down, child," and when Ethan hesitated, he added, "No one will hurt you."

Ethan decided that there was no point in trying to outrun a man on horseback, so he obediently climbed down and stood before Madley.

"What is your name, child?" Madley asked.

"Ethan, sir," Ethan replied, deliberately not giving his last name, mindful of his aunt's numerous rants about how he had disgraced the Parker family.

But Madley persisted, "And your last name? Where do you live?"

Ethan considered lying, but decided that they would probably find out the truth soon enough on their own, so he sighed and said, "Parker, sir. I live back that way--" He gestured vaguely in the direction of Ernestine's house. "--with my mother and great-aunt."

"Oh!" said one of the farmhands, looking startled. "He must mean Ernestine Parker's house."

Madley frowned, as if trying to recall the name. "Ah, the old widow who lives a couple of miles up the road? I had heard something about her taking in a niece and nephew."

"Not a widow," the farmhand corrected. "A spinster; she's never been married."

"I'm not surprised," another farmhand, the one who had called Ethan a thief, muttered under his breath. "She has a face like a horse."

Madley's horse was snuffling eagerly at the fallen apple cores, and Ethan picked them up and fed them to the horse, giggling as the horse's nose and tongue tickled his palms. "That's not very nice," Ethan said indignantly. "The horse is much prettier than Great-Aunt Ernestine."

The farmhands burst into uproarious laughter, and Madley smiled a little, although he scolded Ethan, "You should be more respectful of your elders, young man."

"Yes, sir," Ethan said, meekly but unrepentantly.

"So you live with your mother and your great-aunt, do you?" Madley asked.

"Yes, sir."

"What about your father?"

The farmhands began whispering among themselves, and Ethan knew exactly what they were saying, even though he couldn't make out all the words. "I haven't got one," he said defiantly. "My mother and I were sent here because we brought shame to the Parker family."

The farmhands looked a little ashamed of themselves then, and regarded Ethan with looks of sympathy, even the one who had accused him of being a thief.

The kind farmhand, the one who had defended him, timidly ventured, "He's just a child, Mr. Madley; I'm sure he didn't mean any harm, and it was only a couple of apples..."

A brief wave of Madley's hand caused the man to fall silent, but it seemed to be a distracted rather than an angry gesture. Madley was staring at Ethan with a puzzled, speculative look on his face. "You're a very...outspoken...young man."

"Er...yes, sir," Ethan said, not sure whether that was meant to be a compliment or an insult.

"How did you get here?" Madley asked.

"I walked," Ethan replied, feeling a little confused. How else was he supposed to have gotten here?

"You walked all that way?" Madley exclaimed in surprise. "By yourself?"

"Yes, sir," Ethan replied.

The farmhands looked at each other and shrugged. "He must have walked," the first one said. "We haven't seen any carriages or broomsticks pass by, and he's obviously too young to Apparate."

"Well, let me give you a ride home, Ethan Parker," Madley said. "I think that it's time I introduced myself to my neighbors." He gestured to the kind farmhand, and Ethan squealed with delight as the man lifted him up and placed him on the saddle in front of Madley. He decided that a horseback ride was well worth any punishment he would receive when he got home.

Madley continued to regard him with bemusement on the ride home, as Ethan peppered him with questions about the farm and why he rode a horse instead of a broomstick.

"I find that a horse is convenient for inspecting my property, which covers a great deal of land," Madley replied. "It's more comfortable than riding a broomstick, although sometimes I do survey the crops from the air. Walking takes too long and is, as you have discovered, rather tiring."

"But couldn't you just Apparate?" Ethan asked.

"I could if I simply wanted to get from one place to another quickly," Madley said. "But when I am inspecting my crops, I don't want to just simply hop from Point A to Point B. I need to cover the entire property and inspect the fields and orchards and gardens closely."

"I wish I had a horse," Ethan sighed enviously, patting the horse on its neck, and it nickered at him in a friendly way.

Madley patiently answered his questions, telling him about the various crops that they grew on the farm, and also telling him the name of the horse when he asked about it. The horse was named "Brownie"--for its color, obviously, although Ethan privately thought that he would have chosen a more regal name. But he didn't want to offend Mr. Madley, so he kept his opinion to himself. He wistfully hoped that the farmer might offer him more rides on Brownie in the future, although that was highly unlikely since his aunt would probably keep him locked up after this.

But as it turned out, she did not. Because when Madley returned Ethan to Ernestine's house and caught sight of Rosalind, his jaw dropped and he stared at her with a dazed look on his face.

"I'm...um...er...Alden Madley," Madley stammered. "I own the farm down the road, and I...uh...seem to have been remiss in introducing myself to my neighbors. So I thought I would rectify the situation--and return this young man to his home."

"Oh, Ethan," Rosalind said crossly, "can't you manage to stay out of trouble for five minutes?"

Madley chuckled and patted Ethan on the head. "Now, now, boys will be boys," he said in a genial voice. "But you should apologize for making your mother worry," he told Ethan sternly.

Ethan knew that the only thing that Ernestine and Rosalind were worried about was that he would bring more shame to the Parker family by drawing attention to himself, but he obediently said, "I'm sorry, Mother."

Ernestine, who had been about to brusquely thank Madley and close the door in his face, frowned at him thoughtfully, then smiled and said politely, "Please come in and have some tea, Mr. Madley, and let us thank you properly for bringing young Ethan home."

Ethan and Rosalind stared at her in shock, and Madley replied eagerly, "Why, thank you, a spot of tea would be nice."

So Madley joined them for tea, and Ethan was even allowed to stay with the adults and drink tea and eat cookies--a very novel experience for him. Ernestine never invited strangers into her home if she could help it, and on the rare occasions when someone other than Ethan's grandparents stopped by, Ethan was always sent to his room and told to stay out of sight.

Madley explained how he had found Ethan in the apple tree, and at that point, both Ernestine and Rosalind began scolding him until Madley interrupted, "Oh, please, don't be too hard on the boy. No harm was done."

Ernestine sighed heavily and said, "It's been difficult, you must understand, raising a boy with no male influence or guidance." Rosalind flushed and glared at her aunt.

"Oh, I quite understand," Madley said, giving Rosalind a sympathetic smile and patting Ethan on the head. "He seems like a good lad, just full of too much energy and mischief. Perhaps I could help."

"What do you mean?" Ernestine asked, a little too innocently.

"Perhaps Ethan could come visit me at the farm and do a few chores to make up for the apples that he took," Madley replied. "Not that I begrudge the loss of a few apples, but it would teach him responsibility and keep him out of mischief."

"Well, if you're sure it's not too much trouble..." Ernestine said, her voice politely reluctant, although there was a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

"No trouble at all," Madley assured her. "I'll come to pick up Ethan in the morning and bring him back in the afternoon."

"On Brownie?" Ethan asked eagerly.

"Yes, on Brownie," Madley said, chuckling indulgently and patting him on the head again. Ernestine carried on most of the conversation through tea, asking Madley questions about the farm, which Madley answered politely, but Ethan noticed that his gaze kept drifting over towards Rosalind. He never asked about Ethan's father, but only told Rosalind that she had a very clever and charming son.

After Madley took his leave and returned to the farm, Ernestine crossed her arms over her chest and gazed down at Ethan, her eyes as cold and stern as ever, but for the first time, there was a hint of approval in them. "Well, you little scamp, it seems that your mischief has inadvertently done some good this time."

"What do you mean, Aunt Ernestine?" Rosalind asked. "Surely you're not thinking--"

"Alden Madley is single, wealthy, and respectable," Ernestine interrupted. "And he doesn't seem to care that your son has no father."

"But he's a Muggle-born!" Rosalind protested.

"At this point, girl, you can't afford to be too picky!" Ernestine said tartly. "He's the best, and probably only chance at catching a husband that you are likely to get!"

Rosalind opened her mouth to protest again, then closed it as a shrewd look fell over her face and she exchanged a glance with Ethan. He knew that they were both thinking the same thing: that this was a chance to finally escape from their imprisonment under Aunt Ernestine.

"Very well," Rosalind said. "Mind your manners, Ethan, and don't do anything to offend Mr. Madley."

"Yes, Mother."

***

So every morning, Madley would come and pick him up after breakfast, and they would ride to the farm. Mostly he worked in the herb gardens, watering plants and pulling up weeds (after he had been taught how to distinguish a weed from the herbs). When he asked why this couldn't be done with magic, Madley patiently explained that it was difficult to develop spells subtle enough to tell weeds apart from herbs, and that the more delicate plants usually required a personal touch.

"You need to look at each plant," he explained, "and see whether it needs more or less water and fertilizer. See, the leaves on this plant look a little dry and are starting to turn yellow around the edges. That means it's not getting enough water, probably because the weather has been hot and dry lately. But an automated spell wouldn't be able to determine that."

"I see," Ethan said, diligently paying attention to Madley's instructions.

Madley spent a great deal of time with Ethan, patiently teaching him about plants and gardening, but when he had other work to attend to, he would leave Ethan in the care of the farmhands. He quickly charmed all of them, even the one who had called him a thief, especially when they saw how hard he worked. They also marveled at how taken Mr. Madley was with his young charge. Ethan got the impression that they respected their employer, but regarded him as a bit stern and standoffish.

Ethan knew that Madley was only being nice to him because he wanted to make a good impression on Rosalind, but Ethan didn't mind; he was just glad that Madley didn't realize that Rosalind wouldn't care whether he was nice to her son or not. It was the first time in his life that anyone had ever treated him kindly, and he was grateful for it, and grateful to escape Ernestine's house as well. The farmhands sincerely liked him, and many of them had families who also lived and worked on the farm, and he often played with their children when he was given a break from his chores--another first for Ethan. And he got to ride Brownie to and from the farm every day. Ethan was happier than he had ever been in his life.

After Ethan had been working on the farm for a week, Madley left a basket of apples with Ernestine and Rosalind when he dropped Ethan off at home. "He's been working very hard," Madley said with a smile. "Much harder than two apples' worth, so I wanted to give you this as a token of my appreciation."

"Oh, thank YOU, Mr. Madley," Rosalind said, fluttering her eyelashes at him, and Madley's face flushed red with pleasure. "We're so grateful to you for looking after Ethan."

"Please stop by for dinner tomorrow night," Ernestine said smoothly. "We will bake these apples into a pie for dessert."

"It would be my pleasure!" Madley said delightedly.

Ethan worried that he would not be invited back to the farm after his stolen apples were paid off, but his fears turned out to be groundless. Madley continued to pick up Ethan almost every day, and would periodically drop off fruits or vegetables or herbs as thanks for Ethan's help, which would lead to more invitations to dinner or lunch or tea. Sometimes Madley would have to travel out of town on business, although the farmhands would remark (with sly winks when their employer wasn't around) that he was spending much more time on the farm than he usually did. And he would always bring back small gifts for the Parkers when he returned from his business trips. He brought candy, toys, and books for Ethan, and at first, he would bring back things like tins of expensive tea or biscuits for Ernestine and Rosalind. But gradually, his gifts to Rosalind became more personal: a pretty scarf, a vial of her favorite perfume, an elegant bracelet or brooch--of good quality, yet not so expensive as to create an awkward sense of obligation when no commitments had yet been exchanged. Ernestine observed approvingly that Alden Madley was a very proper man; Rosalind thought him a little too proper and stuffy, but was not inclined to complain, as he was her best chance of gaining her freedom.

And, after several months, Madley finally proposed to Rosalind, having obtained her parents' permission in advance (which of course had been freely given). She accepted, smiling joyfully as he slipped a glittering diamond ring on her finger, and Madley did not seem to notice that her smile was not so much for him, but for her newfound freedom. He merely gazed at her adoringly and said, "You have just made me the happiest man in the world!" Then he added, in a more serious voice, "I would like all three of us to be a family. I want to adopt Ethan, so that he may take my name and legally be my son. Would you like that, Ethan?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" Ethan cried eagerly.

"Then you should call me 'Father' from now on, Ethan," Madley said.

"Yes, Father!" Ethan said, flinging his arms around his new father, who smiled and embraced him. He knew that Madley was still doing this more for Rosalind's sake than his own, but Ethan silently resolved to be a good son, and maybe one day his new father would come to truly love him, rather than just be kind to him out of a sense of duty. And maybe his mother, when she was no longer a prisoner in Aunt Ernestine's house, would not be so angry and resentful, and maybe she would love him, too.

Part 2