Epilogue

Epilogue

"Daddy? Is Mummy coming today?"

"Yes, love. You know she will. She promised it, and she always keeps her promises."

"But, Daddy, when will she be here?" The little girl hopped up and down like a bunny, unable to sit still, unable to keep her mouth shut, unable not to ask the same question over and over again: "Is Mummy coming today?"

Her daddy, though, was unimpressed by her babbling. Slowly, carefully, he tended to the vines, took one plant after the other in his strong, dark hands and cut off what needed to be cut off. It seemed he wasn't that interested in the fact that Mummy would be here soon.

"Daddy?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you miss Mummy?"

That made him look at her, and for a moment, Luca was surprised to see his eyes glare with something she didn't understand. It wasn't anger nor sadness nor pain. She knew all those emotions. So maybe it was... love? She was certain that Daddy loved Mummy, even when she wasn't here with them.

"I do, honey. Very much. I miss her every day she isn't here, I miss her at night, when she doesn't sleep in our bed. But behaving like a crazy pixie doesn't make her arrive any sooner."

When he turned his back to the vines, Luca stuck her tongue out at him. Really, sometimes Daddy behaved like Mr Valdez, her Spanish teacher. "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy," she hummed only a moment later. She never could be grumbly with Daddy; she loved him far too much, and after all, missing Mummy was horrible enough to forgive him his slight scolding.

Luca, who was now nearly six years old, tall and tanned like her dad, with black hair and dark brown eyes, suddenly stopped in the middle of her tracks. There had been something... a tingle in the air, an inaudible sound, and now the small hairs at the back of her neck stood up.

Shivering, she perceived goosebumps along her bare arms. It was a hot day today – it was her birthday in a week's time – so there shouldn't be a reason for her to feel cold.

Her daddy felt it, too. Not even bothering to put his tools back into the box, he just dropped the scissors he had used and turned, striding with long legs towards the house. Barefoot like his daughter, his steps were silent on the soft ground, and he reached out without looking, waiting for Luca to take his hand.

Fast, half running, they went back to the house, as there was magic in the air, magic that indicated someone had arrived.

***********************

Mummy, Mummy, Mummy's here! Luca thought and ran faster, as fast as she could, and ignored that the path was steep and that her lungs were already burning. She couldn't wait to see her mother, hadn't seen her for far too long, and maybe, this time she would stay. She'd promised that one day, she wouldn't leave, wouldn't go back, and if only Luca could believe it, life would be a lot easier.

Mummy never stayed. Not for long, anyway. Three weeks at the most before she had to go back to her other family, her other children. Before she went back to England and London and Rose and Hugo. Who were Luca's half-sister and half-brother, but whom she didn't know in person.

She had seen pictures of them, of course. As long as she could think back, Luca knew that her mummy had a second life, a secret one, one she couldn't share, and one she couldn't take her little daughter to. Daddy was part of this secret life, in a way, as he went to the hut at the beach every now and then – without her – to see Mummy's other children. Luca was jealous when that happened, but she understood that Daddy liked Rose and Hugo, as well.

Still, it was very strange that he knew those other children, knew them since even before she, Luca, had been born. Rose looked like Mummy with hair as bushy and brown as Mummy's and with the same heart-shaped face. Only her eyes were blue. "She's got her father's eyes, Luca," her father had answered when she had asked why Rose's eyes weren't brown.

"Aren't you Rose's daddy?" Luca remembered this question clearly because Mummy and Daddy had shared one of those looks that told her that there was more than they were willing to say. And her daddy had just shaken his head and had said, "No, I'm not."

Hugo, her big brother, had blue eyes as well, but his hair was nearly red. On each and every picture, he smiled, and often, he had a book in his hand, as well. Luca assumed that he not only had inherited his father's eyes but his hair as well, and when she had asked Mummy, she had nodded once but refused to answer more questions. "He looks like his daddy as you look like yours," had been her final words, and that had been fine with Luca.

In Luca's opinion, Mummy's secret life was interesting and annoying at the same time. Sometimes, she was glad that she was not an only child, that she had siblings she surely would meet eventually. She daydreamed that one day, Mummy would take her by the hand and bring her to this ominous London, to the house she lived in and maybe even to her sister's and brother's grandparents, the ones who lived in a house with pixies and who had a clock with seven hands hanging on the kitchen wall.

On other days, most days actually, she couldn't imagine leaving Daddy. And that Daddy would have to stay behind if she went and had a look at Mummy's England was crystal clear to her. She knew Daddy was only safe on the island because before he had become her daddy he had been a different man, one with enemies. If he left the island, maybe someone would recognise him and put him into prison. True, a few times a year, Daddy went to the hut at the beach without her to meet Rose and Hugo, but that was different. At those times, she was allowed to stay with Conchita, who looked after her and cooked for her and let her play all day long instead of tending to her tasks. Who would look after Daddy if she went to London was the question. Maria and Pedro didn't really count, Mummy wouldn't be here either... No. She couldn't go and leave Daddy behind. London would have to wait for another little while.

The hut at the beach, though, sort of belonged to her, and she considered it massively unfair that Daddy went there without her, even if it was only every now and then. How often had she begged to come, to meet Rose and Hugo, too, but Daddy had never allowed it. "They don't know about you yet, love," he had said, and that bit she didn't entirely understand. She knew about them, so how could it be that they didn't know about her? However, Daddy had promised her that one day, she would meet them.

Nearly, nearly they were at the house now. Daddy picked her up and carried her, held her safely in his strong arms as if she didn't weigh more than a basket of grapes. He wasn't out of breath like she was. He just ran. He wanted to see Mummy as badly as she did, that much was clear.

When they reached the garden, Daddy put her down and went to the pump. "Come on, Luca, we need to wash first, or Mummy will be covered in dirt the moment we hug her," he said, and she giggled.

Truly, Daddy was dirty. His hands were black, his feet, too, and sweat was running down his forehead and chest. Working in the vineyard all day meant getting dirty, she knew and looked down at her shorts and her t-shirt. Earth and grass, leaves, and there was a drop of blood from the scratch on her hand. Washing was a good idea, she decided.

Cold, ice cold was their water. Daddy pumped it up, and it splashed on the dry ground before she first put her hands, then her feet under the beam. A piece of soap lay on top of the pump, and Daddy forced her to use it. "Make yourself presentable, young lady," he said, then added, "at least as much as possible. You need a bath, but that can wait until later."

She watched him whilst he held his head under the water, fiercely brushing the dirt off his hands and face. He had taken his shirt off, and Luca saw the muscles playing under his skin. A few leaves from the tattoo could be seen, although he was bent over, and again she thought how wonderfully real the flower looked. The bracelet sparkled in the sun, and of course she knew why the tattoo was there – to cover a scar and to ease the pain Daddy would otherwise suffer from. She knew that he was a wizard and once had been badly wounded. She knew as well that Mummy was a witch, and that she would be a witch one day, too. Occasionally, tiny stars sparkled from her fingers when she was tired or scared, and once when she had been very angry, when she had thrown a tantrum really, things had fallen over without her touching them. When that had happened, Daddy had taken her on his lap and calmed her down, had dried her tears caused by outrage, and explained why it was dangerous to give in to anger. "I lost a friend because I insulted her, and I did that because I was angry," he had told her, and that had been the end of her tantrums. The thought of losing her friend just because she couldn't control herself was terrible. Moreover, she nearly always listened to her daddy, and she knew he only told her off because he loved her.

"We are not really clean, are we, Daddy?" she now asked, and he looked at her and then at himself and laughed his deep, wonderful laughter. Carelessly, he wiped off his hands on his trousers, leaving wet stripes at the back of them. Then he took a towel and dried her face, gently and carefully. Her hair, nearly as short as Daddy's hair and equally black, got one last rub, and then he took her hand once more. "Definitely not. But it will have to do for the time being."

The coolness of the house embraced her, and in the air she could smell perfume. "Mummy!" she called, and "Tessa?" her father added, a hint of surprise in his voice. She could understand why: usually, Mummy came running towards them as fast as they ran to meet her. She didn't go into the house and hide; at least she waited in the garden, inspecting her herbs.

Voices in the living room, easily to be heard in the silent house. Not only Mummy's voice, two more voices as well. The voices of children.

Suddenly, Daddy's hand around hers tightened. Only for a second and not hard enough to hurt but definitely strong enough to startle her. Without hesitation, he crossed the hall, pushed the door to the living room open – and stopped. And stared not only at the woman who stood there but at the two children as well as if he never had seen children in his life before.

"Carlos!" Rose was the first who reacted and simply flung herself into his arms. Because this was Rose; it could be no one else, so much did she look like Mummy when Mummy had been a little girl. Luca had a picture book in her room from Mummy's days at that school, Hogwarts, and Rose looked exactly like those pictures. Only that she didn't wear robes but shorts and a t-shirt, and her hair was bound in a long plait. Luca looked at her and considered her beautiful.

And she hugged her daddy. Now that was... odd, sort of. On the other hand, Conchita's grandchildren hugged Daddy as well, especially when he had a basket of Maria's home-made biscuits with him. Many people liked Daddy, so why not her, too?

The boy – Hugo, it must be Hugo – came closer as well, the familiar big smile in his face. He grinned when Daddy hugged him, and then, suddenly, she was the centre of attention.

"So, you are our little sister then?" Hugo said, and Luca hadn't known she could blush that deeply. Her tongue refused to function at all – although everyone knew she could babble all day long if necessary – and so she just nodded.

Luckily, Mummy rescued her by sweeping her off her feet, embracing her and kissing her and holding her tight enough to press the air out of her lungs. "Hi, mouse," Mummy whispered in her ear, and that was all Luca needed to feel like herself again.

"Hi, Mummy," she said in her mother's hair. "I missed you so much, and Daddy missed you, too. Will you stay this time? Longer than just a little while?"

Mummy and Daddy looked at each other. Luca knew that they would talk for hours tonight, but for the moment, everything seemed fine. Daddy didn't ask all the questions he so clearly wanted to ask – Luca could see it in his eyes that he was surprised by Mummy bringing her other children. He just took one step towards Mummy, cupped her chin, and raised an eyebrow.

"I promised you, didn't I?" Mummy whispered. "And a promise must be kept. We were divorced a week ago. Hugo will go to Hogwarts this year. Therefore, this time, I will stay."

Thank you for staying with me until the end, and hugs to anyone who has left or will leave a review. I cherish every single one. They are the visible proof that this story got read despite the fact that might be a bit of an unusual way to bring those two together.

An abundance of hugs to Dreamy_Dragon, who helped me tremendously with comments and gerunds and feedback and all. She's not only the best alpha and beta reader I know in fandom, she's a friend as well, although I don't even know her in person. Yet!

Many thanks to my other helpers, too: Arabella Bloodgood, Sampdoria, and CharmedForce. Wouldn't know what to do without you, my dears.

And last, hugs and thanks to notsosaintly. She found the last remaining mistakes, she didn't let me down, although she has enough other things to do, and she triggered the idea to this story in the first place. I wrote this fic for you, dear, and I do hope very much you liked it.