Katie was halfway through one of her most vulgar stories to Gregory, hands dancing as she recalled the Falcons-Holyhead post game party. He was chuckling through his truly impressive beard, leaning back in his chair. He was a massive man—she wouldn’t be surprised if he was a quarter giant. His accent was heavy, he was Ukrainian he’d explained, but he was a reasonable man. Katie felt safe; he’d been leant to the Ministry after the war. He hadn’t been here, torturing children, terrorizing innocent families.

Ginny arrived with great news, and Katie grinned, rising to hug the redhead. They’d become close when Katie returned from St. Mungos. If anyone understood being cursed by old magic, it was Ginny Weasley. Katie had often gone to the younger girl’s dormitory and talked late into the night over exploding snap, drinking smuggled firewhiskey.

“Ginny~!” She chirped, before her expression went dark as Flint knocked into her. Katie thought it was amazing that she didn’t launch herself at the brute and break his fucking face. 

“Eat a dick, Flint—“

She stopped cursing the instant she saw a familiar head of white blonde hair. Her face lit up, and she went for her wand when the lad ran into Flint, ready to hex his face off. But Ayden was there and she stooped before him, letting him clamber onto her. He buried his little face in her shoulder and she rose in a smooth motion, hitching him up. 

“Ayden! How’s my favorite bloke?” She ruffled his hair, turning him away from Flint. She shot Marcus her most withering glower. She was going to _break_ him. Next time she saw him, she was going to give him exactly what he deserved. She forced her expression light and cheerful and focused her attention on Ayden. “Look how big you’ve gotten!”

“Ees thes your son?” Gregory asked warily. Katie laughed, waving him off. She didn't blame his suspicion. There was certainly no paperwork in her record indicating she had a child.

“My godson, Ayden. He’s the Falcon’s biggest fan. Look, that’s Cap'n Wolf! You remember him, right?”

Fenrir smiled, casting a warning look around the table. The Falcons quieted, cowed by his calm stare. Katie laughed as Kamala leapt up.

“And Auntie Kamala,” she grinned, “She flew you around the pitch for your birthday, remember?”

“Hey champ,” Kamala smiled, subtly stomping on Pucey’s foot as he snickered. They’d been given shit for cooing over the lad before, but Katie knew she and Kamala—the sole women on the team—were still the scariest witches in the league. Pucey swore beneath his breath and earned another foot stomp. “You know, I think we have a new jacket for you back at the pitch.”

“Think he could come by?” she posed the question to both Fenrir and Charlie, reaching out to give him a half hug. They’d become close mates over Ayden and it was difficult to suppress the flutter in her heart whenever he was around. It was silly, of course—Charlie’s true love was dragons, and fearsome though little Katie Bell might be, she couldn’t breathe fire. It was a girlish crush, something that belonged in her life before the war, and she kept it firmly under wraps.

“We’d be honored,” Fenrir remarked solemnly, and Katie turned her brown eyes on Charlie with a hopeful grin and a wink.

“I’m sure Ry’ will be fine with it. We’ll be careful.”