She confirmed the child was hers and Oliver nodded. The lad couldn’t be much older than two or three. He’d have been born just before the war, then. He was lucky to have survived it. So many children had died. He could remember with perfect clarity how little Colin Creevey’s corpse had felt in his arms.  Oliver smiled tightly, forcing his thoughts away from that night. 
“It’s alright,” he grinned at the tyke, who appeared to have his priorities straight. Food was always brilliant.
She mentioned the difficult of apparition with a child and he nodded, rubbing his chin. Merlin, he needed a proper shave.

“Dae ye know the Patil girl's café just aff Diagon Alley? It's quieter than th' leaky cauldron this time ay day,” He offered. Katie had taken him there last week with Alicia and Lee, fresh from holiday. It had been a relief to see them all alive and well. He remembered how pale Katie had been when she’d told him she was smuggling ‘Licia out of the country, how tired Lee had looked all those long months, wondering if she’d made it out alive. Merlin, his _team_ was broken and Oliver couldn’t do anything to help. He’d never felt so powerless in his life.


Padma’s was all royal blue and gold, with open windows and curling steam from a dozen tea pots. The walls were covered in artful dances of paint, swirling fires and glittering galaxies bleeding into oceans and silk. There was a corner covered in flowers and picture frames, an impromptu shrine to their dead. Someone had lit incense before the laughing photo of a girl he remembered to have been a Gryffindor (she had a floral name, maybe). Oliver studied the shrine, hands in his pockets. They hadn’t placed Fred here yet—Oliver didn’t think anyone was quite ready to give him up. 

He heard the bells tinkle above the door and he turned, raising a hand in greeting to the Auror and her little one. He put the shrine at their backs when he lead them to their table, holding out her chair as his mum had practically beat into him. Oliver had cleaned up with a quick scouring charm, although his robes were still rather rumpled.

“Wood. It’s nice to see you again,” Padma greeted, her black hair plaited down one side, voice soft. She smiled to Ryan and Ayden, serene. “Lockwood, was it? What can I get you?”