Sean Buckner sat in the pub at the Leaky Cauldron, an empty pint glass at his elbow, head down against his forearm. 

Upstairs, his gran had finally fallen asleep after having spent the past near-to-twenty-four hours crying about the giant attack on Dunlewey. How many times had Sean heard the story of his grandfather building that house, how his mum had been born in the old claw-foot tub that had to be magically extended to fit anyone in properly. "I hated that old tub," his grandmum had sobbed, "But I didn't want tae see a giant's foot crush her, neither!" 

The time to go to see Annalee McKinnon had come and Sean had been no closer to getting his gran settled down, so he'd sighed and sent Annalee a patronus, apologizing for the late notice but he had to cancel on her and couldn't make it to her family dinner, but that he hoped it went quite well and that he really, really hoped that she'd let him make it up to her in the future. Like really, really hoped...

"Aye right," he'd muttered to himself after he'd sent it. "You've gone and done yourself in." 

The first date and he'd cancelled it.

He reckoned that was probably that.

Come Monday, when he was next in that little hovel of a copy office in the Ministry, he'd find himself getting packages form the Minister's office with notes taped on requesting 1 or 2 copies of this or that file signed with a stuff A. McKinnon at the base, forgotten, and the little meetings he'd come to look forward to replaced by the convenience of the inter-departmentary owl post.

But he'd done what he had to do for his gran, just as she'd done what she had to do, taking him in when his mum passed when he was but a wee'un... Grandmum always had to come first for Sean, because Annie Buckner had put him first always, too.

It was half ten at night and Sean had barely eaten since before the attacks, he'd been busy bein' healed at Mungo's then off to figure out where he and his gran were to stay and then poor Granmum had cried herself through the dinner they'd eaten earlier so that he felt hardly any appetite then, and getting her to calm had wrung him right out. So now he was doing tea at such a late hour - and by tea, of course, it was steins of shit beer with a plate of chips and one of old Tom the Bartender's hot roast sandwiches. He'd eaten half and drank himself on the edge of dizzy (which with so little food was only two glasses deep). Then, Sean Buckner had let himself fall into a bit of wallowing at his table - wallowing over the loss of the little cottage in Dunlewey and a surety that he'd cucked up his love life for good.

That's how Annalee found him.

She waved to Tom at the bar as she stepped through the floo, then walked to the table where Sean had his head down and eyes closed, her kitten heels clicking on the flagstone floor. She pulled out a chair opposite Sean and sat down, her eyes moving over his oblivious form. She reached over and picked up the nearly finished glass he had by his elbow, held it up for Tom to see and he nodded, understanding she was requesting another. It took only a moment for the glass to come flying across the room and land in front of Annalee gently. She waved a thanks and took a sip, staring at the top of Sean's ruddy haired head as she did so. Finally,  the rush of the beer giving her a bit of confidence that everyone always assumed came so naturally to her, she put down the glass.

"So I said to my mum, I reckon that he has a most noble cause for not coming tonight, because I know that much from even my short time knowing Sean Buckner." Annalee leaned forward as Sean lifted his head, exhausted but surprised to hear her voice. He stared at her like she was an apparition. Annalee brushed a bit of the hair from his forehead and let her fingers drift over his cheek as he blinked up at her. "And I spent the whole night telling them what an incredible person they were missing out on getting to meet and how you held up that roof and saved your gran and me and James Potter, the so-called her oof the day. I realized as I was tellin' 'em all, if you hadn't been so brave and strong that all the people James went on saving couldn't have been saved at all so that it was really you who was the hero."

Sean felt his eyes misting up. 

"And you're my hero at the very least... for what that's worth."

"It's worth loads," Sean said, his voice cracking.

Annalee smiled

"I'm terrible sorry I couldn't come," Sean said, sitting up proper, "My grandmum --"

"Sean, you owe me no excuses, I can see it in your eyes how exhausted you are. It wouldn't have been the proper time to be coming." She shook her head, "No honey, you don't need to explain anything."

Sean's lip trembled ever so slightly. She'd seen a photograph on the wall in the cottage in Dunlewey - one of the many that were lost now - he'd been a boy with a pouty lower lip and so many freckles across his sun-kissed face... and he looked such a lot like that photo now, though paler and less freckled, the boy in the photograph was very much the young man who sat across from her, frothed to the surface by the heartache of the day.

"It wasn't the right time for a deal of things that were planned for last night. Marlene and Em didn't tell mum and dad they're together, for starts, and of course you didn't make your debut to society," she smirked. "Archie and Finley were on about something, too, but neither came out with whatever it was, and honestly the dinner was mostly mum and dad discussing where Fin was getting a flat and a long discussion between Marlene and Archie about whether Fin was corrupted by American culture because of the way he held his silverware."

"But you were there, so it would've been an enchanted evening." 

"Eh, there'll be other dinners," Annalee replied. "Now that he's back on the right side of the pond, mum and dad'll be reimplementing Sunday night dinners. The whole family - and only family. Every Sunday night. You'll be invited eventually, of course."

"Oh?"

"I mean, if you stick 'round long enough, that's the idea, isn't it? Becoming family?" Annalee asked, sipping more of the beer that Tom had sent over. She studied Sean's face over the glass as she drank.

He looked hopeful.

She smiled and reached out and held his hand with her free one as she put down the glass of beer. She took a deep breath. "What's your favorite song?"

"I haven't really got one," he said.

"Mine is Always On My Mind by Elvis Presley," Annalee said. 

"Elvis Presley?" Sean asked.

"Mhm." She squeezed his fingers.

"Why?"

"I don't know, I've just always liked it. My auntie was a fan and she used to play his records for us when we were little. Mum and Dad didn't approve which made it all the more delicious to get to hear him when we visited Auntie Jo's house." Annalee smiled, then, "Why don't you have a favorite song?"

"I listen to primarily classical music," he answered. "Or whatever they were doin' at the local pub, y'know? That's the best sort of music anyway, if you're askin' me, the sort that just picks up and none of the hearers can help but stomp a beat and the next y'know you're dancin' and the world's cares are at least three or four minutes of song away because yer forgettin' anything else when you're movin' to it."

Annalee smiled, "You'll have to take me sometime."

Sean nodded, "Aye, I will."

They chatted on for some time, getting to know one another even more, and Sean felt some of the weariness fading off, though he was still exhausted it was a different sort of weariness now and when the clock was striking midnight, and he was starting to nod, Annalee laughed and kissed his hand, "Sean, love I think it's time you go to bed. But I'd love it if we could see each other tomorrow again, if for just a short time? Perhaps I'll come for tea again?"

"Ah, yeah," he said, nodding.

She smiled, "Alright."

She glanced at the stairwell. Annie Buckner was standing on the steps, watching them. She had been for several minutes by then, her eyes wide as they'd been talking. Annalee stood up and Sean did too, and she went 'round the table and gave him a hug, and he hugged her back, a big warm thing like being wrapped up in safety and she could smell the Guinness and a scent that reminded her of warm summer days and the loam of vegetable gardens and sun-heated moss, of laughing and laying in grass... Something like the scent of the greenhouses in Hogwarts and she stared up at him because she could picture little stone cottages and children and a whole future being spent in those arms. All things that would come in the great big Someday.

"Good night, Sean," she whispered.

It occurred to her, even as she spoke the words, that one day... one day she wouldn't have to say them to him in parting.

It was the way she just knew that they belonged together.

It was the way his arms were home and no others would do.

"G'night, Annalee," he said.

Sean turned and he saw his grandmother then, watching him, and he flushed and glanced back at Annalee, smiled, and headed for the stairs. "Ah Gran what're yeh doin', spyin' on me like that?"

Annie Buckner watched Annalee as she crossed the pub to the floo and she looked back at Sean and said, "I wasn't spying!"

"You were, though," Sean said, climbing the stairs.

Annie's eyes followed the pretty girl as she threw her powder and stepped into the hearth, and muttered, "I was just thinkin' how soon I'm goin' to be having to buy myself a hat."