Night fell deep and heavy.
Theodore walked into his room.
Looking at the strange yet familiar decorations, his indifferent, calm eyes couldn't help but drift into a daze.
This was a room Arthur had personally arranged, and the layout came from Nott Manor—that one sanctuary he'd ever known...
Theodore gently touched the photo frame on the desk.
The woman in the frame carried herself with elegant grace, her smile radiant. Who knew who she was looking at, but her eyes overflowed with love.
He knew this love didn't belong to him.
But even so, he had clutched that frame tightly in his arms through countless days and nights, desperately trying to feel that nonexistent warmth...
Click.
Theodore turned the frame face down.
He no longer needed this false affection. He no longer needed to seek comfort from a stranger's photograph.
Mother?
What exactly was a mother?
Theodore lay quietly on the bed, images flashing through his mind like slides.
A mad, terrifying man. Cold, damp bedding. A narrow, suffocating attic. The bustling manor. Kind greetings masking cruel intentions. Harsh, mocking gazes. Greedy false sentiment. Deeply loathed curses...
Where was she?
Where should he even begin to look for her?
Just as Theodore sank into memory's icy grip, the warm scent emanating from his pillow pulled him back to reality.
The faint sounds of cursing and pleading from outside gradually relaxed his tightly constricted, convulsing heart...
Unlike the guest room he'd occupied at Christmas, this time he lived in the Shelby pub as a Shelby—right next door to Tiger.
Theodore slowly closed his eyes.
He curled his entire body into the blanket. The warm, soft covers carried the scents of sunshine and whiskey, and his faintly trembling breath finally steadied.
I found her.
I'm no longer an unwanted child...
Noon sun blazed mercilessly overhead.
At Gunpowder's hungry yowling, Tiger opened bleary eyes and rolled out of bed.
It had to be said—this was the most comfortable, peaceful sleep he'd enjoyed in months.
Drawing back the curtains, harsh sunlight flooded the room.
Tiger squinted toward the window, spotting John and Theodore trimming the lawn below.
Both seemed to sense his gaze and looked up.
Seeing Tiger still lazily scratching his chest, John irritably flipped him off while Theodore offered an unpracticed but genuine smile...
"Now that's a rare sight."
"You're actually not out chasing skirts."
After a quick wash, Tiger emerged from the pub to help them trim the bushes surrounding the lawn.
Sweat traced the defined lines of his muscles, dampening his thin white t-shirt to near transparency.
This drew soft gasps from passing girls, and occasionally men would cast appreciative glances Tiger's way.
Tiger ignored the attention entirely, wanting only to return to the pub for a refreshing cold shower.
In the sweltering summer heat, the air hung thick and oppressive. John retrieved juice from the ice bucket and handed it to Theodore, then cracked open a beer for himself, drinking with visible melancholy.
"Trust me, it's not that I don't want to go."
"It's that if I go again..."
John gestured meaningfully with his beer can toward his lower anatomy.
"Mom will slap an iron lock down there—the kind Uncle Martin enchanted..."
Tiger looked genuinely shocked, whipping around to stare at John. "What the hell did you do?"
"Is Mom about to become a grandmother?"
"No, worse than that."
John wagged his finger, glancing toward the second-floor room with drawn curtains, his tone helpless:
"She discovered she can't become a grandmother."
"Tommy's heartbroken."
"Didn't you notice? Poor Tommy didn't surface all last night."
"Mom didn't mention him either."
"Christ, that's a bloody nightmare..."
Tiger immediately grasped the situation, his surprised expression tinged with unmistakable schadenfreude.
Obviously, Tommy's closely guarded secret had finally been discovered by Mother Polly.
"How did she find out?"
"That bastard Montague's getting married." John drained his beer, his expression darkening. "When the invitation arrived, Tommy drank vodka all night. You know..."
"Nobody knows us better than Mom."
Crack.
The heavy shears in Tiger's hands snapped cleanly in two, the break gleaming with twisted, deformed metal.
His fierce brows drew together in a thunderous scowl, ruthless eyes shooting directly toward the Montague residence nearby.
"That son of a bitch betrayed Tommy?"
Montague Leal had grown up alongside the Shelby brothers. The Leal family remained political royalty in Britain. Tiger and the others had witnessed the relationship between Tommy and him firsthand.
Though they'd harbored reservations, for Tommy's sake, the brothers had kept this secret buried.
"No, worse than betrayal..."
"Arranged marriage."
"That coward Montague didn't dare defy his family. Only when the engagement was announced did he finally tell Tommy."
John picked up his juice and stood, walking over to pat Tiger's shoulder. He replaced the broken shears, his tone heavy with regret:
"Don't do anything rash. Tommy understands his position."
"It's just still rather..."
"Maybe you don't understand yet—with matters of the heart, there's rarely right or wrong. Fate simply enjoys its cruel games..."
"Speaking of which!"
John's tone shifted as he glanced toward Theodore, still diligently weeding under the blazing sun, lowering his voice:
"I like this kid."
"You know what happened?"
"Last night he gave Mom a mirror. I heard her crying—sobbing like her heart would break..."
Tommy had discussed this with his brothers long ago.
Mother Polly's volatility and violence were actually symptoms of deep psychological trauma.
Years of suppressed rage and hatred acted like slow poison, silently corroding her mind and body.
But Mother Polly never spoke of these things to her sons. She would only gaze at the photograph in her pocket watch during the darkest hours, reliving fragments of the past.
After sunrise, that ruthless, terrifying gangster matriarch would reappear before everyone.
Tommy worried constantly.
Long-term suppression was like water building behind a dam—ready to burst through Mom's defenses at any moment, drowning her seemingly indomitable spirit in the flood...
But fortunately, there was the Mirror of Erised.
Hearing the muffled wailing from within the room, though Tommy and the others felt heartbroken, they were ultimately relieved.
Just then, Mother Polly's furious bellow erupted from the pub entrance:
"Tiger Shelby!"
"I received an owl!"
"Bring me that bloody report card! Did you wipe your arse with the parent signature requirement?"
"Parent signature?!" Tiger's breathing hitched, ice flooding his veins.
He stared at Theodore in complete disbelief. "Bloody hell, how did I not know about this!"
"Er..."
Theodore set down the lawn mower, pausing thoughtfully before regarding Tiger with genuine sympathy.
"This was Professor McGonagall's arrangement—the day after you lost consciousness. Never happened before."
"She specifically mentioned your name, Father. Did you somehow offend her?"
"At the time..."
"Her expression was... less than pleasant."
(???)
"Offend her? How's that possible?"
Tiger hissed through clenched teeth.
But no matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn't recall doing anything that would provoke such vindictive retaliation from the older cat lady.
"Tiger!"
Mother Polly's irate voice thundered again. Tiger hastily abandoned his confusion and sprinted toward the pub.
Moments later, ear-splitting screams shattered the afternoon quiet.
...
"Father, are you alright?"
Theodore quietly slipped into Tiger's bedroom, concealing a bottle of Dittany essence in his arms.
"No, absolutely not..."
Tiger lay face-down on the bed in complete misery, groaning weakly. The shoe prints across his backside blazed purple and blue in vivid testament to Mother Polly's wrath.
"Bloody hell..."
"Honestly, I think she doesn't need that mirror at all—having me around is torment enough..."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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