It hardly mattered that Tracey had only fallen into a fitful sleep a few hours earlier when the grate in her bedroom filled with green light and a loud surly voice echoed out of it.

"TRACEY MAEVE DAVIS!"

Tracey groaned into the pillow. Bloody Buggering Hell! "Mum."

"Young lady, you will look at me when I address you, get out of bed this minute. What have you been thinking lately?"

Tracey slowly managed to lift her body oddly off the end of the bed. She'd fallen asleep with her head at the foot of the bed for a reason. She'd been too tired to have the elves change the sheets so her bed still smelled like Theo. Sleeping upside down seemed the most logical thing to do at 4am. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were black. She hadn't bothered taking off her make-up or changing into pyjamas. It really was not the best time to receive a Floo from her mother.

Wearily, Tracey tried to be respectful, despite her annoyance. "What did you need, Mum?"

The green head in the flames did not look understanding to her daughter's state. "What I need, Tracey, is to have a daughter who isn't intent on screwing up her life. In tarnishing the family name. I didn't have you to make us the laughing stock of wizarding society. What were you thinking, posing for a nude portrait? Where is it to be exhibited. Have you become one of those kind of women? I'm completely shocked. It's a good thing Baxter thought enough to report to me."

At that, Tracey's face flamed. Enough was enough. "Mother. Is there a reason you are here other than to lecture me on my behaviour? I am an adult after all."

Maeve Davis stared at her daughter. It wasn't often that Tracey spoke back to her. "I don't need other reasons. I'm your mother. I am here to put it to you clearly that I don't approve-"

"I don't give a flying fuck what you approve of, Mum," Tracey bit out, as she walked to her wardrobe and pulled a clean jumper over her head. There wasn't any point in going back to bed. Theo was most likely at work, and Tracey just realized that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch with Pansy the afternoon before.

Pansy.

Tracey stopped mid-pull. Yet again, she had a very good reason to feel second best next to her confident and beautiful friend. She was the second choice. She tried to push the thought away, but it didn't help. Theodore didn't think of her the way she wanted him to, he couldn't have. There was nothing in her that was self assured, strong and powerful - all things that described Pansy Parkinson perfectly. There was really no comparison. Tracey didn't have to be told that she fell short. She was looking thoughtful and her mother must have thought the moment of silence was an invitation to continue their argument.

"That is appalling language to come from a proper young witch. I mean, really! Is that due to your consorting with these Mudbloods. This painter fellow. Please tell me he isn't the man you've invited to live at the house. I was apprised of that as well. Your bedroom doesn't look like a man is sleeping there. There you go, Tracey. When a man doesn't even leave his tie in the bedroom, you can certainly presume that he is just enjoying the milk while it's free. He's never going to pay for it."

Tracey looked at her mother sharply. "Are you quite finished yet? I've had about enough."

The green face glowered. "Such ill manners. You'd never think I could raise such a witch," she said coldly.

"You didn't. The nannies did," Tracey said, equally as cold. "The painter fellow was very respectful and cordial. He never did a single inappropriate thing. I don't know where you got your information," Baxter, the little piece of hippogriff dung. "but you are sorely mistaken if you think I'm talking to you about who I invite into the Park."

As formidable as her mother usually was, Tracey couldn't take anyone whose face was bright green seriously. She was incredibly put out and wanted this call to end as soon as possible. "Is there something you actually needed, Mum? Begging for your allowance? It's about that time again, isn't it? Or was this the random check, make sure little Tracey isn't lost in the big scary house?"

"Tracey, this is tiresome. I want to know who moved in there. I understood from Baxter that he had, until recently, been sharing your bedroom. You are being careful, aren't you? You've made sure he is a proper pure-blood and worthy to be the Master of the house? It wouldn't do to have a mistake happen and then you realize that he was using you."

"Merlin, Mother! I'm not having children with him. He's not even sleeping in my bedroom. What is wrong with you?"

"With me? I was married with a child by the time I was your age. Declan was nearly two years old by the time I was 23. You can't expect me to not be concerned that you have shown no inclination to date and find a proper husband to carry on the family line. And now I find that you have been a common... that you've invited a strange man into the house, that you've allowed him access to your bed. Really, Tracey. What were you thinking?"

Tracey rolled her eyes. "We're done with this conversation, Mum. Good bye."

"I wasn't finished yet!" her mother said sharply.

Tracey continued to ignore her and managed to find her wand on the far side of the bed. She pointed a the Floo and said firmly, "yes, Mum, you were. See Therien about your allowance, I won't be in any mood to speak to you." she said.

The grate turned black, and the room was returned to the quiet that it normally held. Tracey was livid. "Baxter?! Now!"

The house-elf appeared and scurried toward his Mistress. He at least had the good manners to look bashful. "Yes, Miss Tracey? Did you need something?"

She was nearly shaking with anger. Pointing her wand at the little elf, she hexed his behind and he jumped. "Clothes, Baxter. This is about clothes." She conjured up a shirt and a pair of trousers and threw them at him.

The little elf began to wail and pull at his ears. He was shaking his head and crying as the clothes hit him in the head.

"Don't you shake your head at me, Baxter! Reporting to my MOTHER! Like she's the Mistress here." Tracey shook her head as she brushed her hair roughly. She was seething and the lack of sleep wasn't helping with her mood. "And I've been entirely too lax with you all lately. You were never very good at listening to me anyway. but you've blatantly disregarded my orders since Mr. Nott temporarily moved in. I'm done with this. You're done. Get Out!"

Baxter was crying and trying to hurt himself on her bedroom furniture. Tracey didn't want to watch his display so she walked into her bathroom and leaned against the door behind her. He'd been her elf since she was a child. He'd seen her through countless nannies and lonely nights at the park while her mother entertained or travelled. She'd just heartlessly fired her favourite servant. She couldn't keep the tears from as she slid to the bathroom floor.

This was hardly the response she'd expected from herself. It was just a bloody elf, but her body wracked with sobs and she couldn't stop the horrible pain she felt. It all came crashing down on her at once and she realised it was more about her insecurities with Theodore than about anything else. The realization about how the elves had just accepted him when it was clear he'd never wanted them to, just fell on her in a heap. He had to care about her a little, he had been her staunchest defender when it came to the help. He'd said it over and over when he got upset about the way they deferred to him. She really hadn't cared. In fact, she'd usually been amused when they reacted that way toward him. Maybe it was how upset he got when they did it.

Tracey had no idea how long she'd lay there, but she knew she just wanted Theodore there to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. That couldn't be a good thing, not when she'd thrown him out. She pulled herself off the floor, managed to get herself dressed. She had to move forward from this. It wasn't going to break her.

When she finally opened their bedroom door, it was safely after the time Theodore regularly left for work. She stepped out of her room only to find the little glass lotus on the ground beside the door. The tears came again as she picked it up and held it to her heart. He'd fixed it for her. She turned and walked back into her room, gently putting it back down when it belonged on the bed side table. He may not be the boy she'd envisioned in her head in school, but Tracey was fairly certain he was the man she was in love with now. If only he could really feel that way about her. It was coming to the point where she had to decide whether she was going to show him the real her, and let him love her this way or not, or continue on with this mask and learn to let him go.

But she wasn't ready to make that choice yet. Instead, she opened her wardrobe and found the gift she'd bought for him for his birthday. She'd meant to give it to him that night, but she just wanted tonight to be as stress free as possible. Writing a small note for the gift, she walked toward the blue room. Standing just outside the door, she took a deep breath before opening it and walking inside. The room was still immaculate, the bed looked hardly slept in. He was much tidier than she was and it was clear that he hadn't spent much time in the room after he'd sat outside her door. Walking gingerly across the room, Tracey left both the note and the gift on the writing desk. She let her fingers move over the smooth packaging. She hoped he'd like the gift. It seemed terribly appropriate now. There weren't many first editions of Milton's 'Paradise Lost' left in the world. "Happy Birthday, Theo," she whispered to herself before walking out of the room, and moving forward with the day.


Theo's Gift:



(Summary: Tracey wakes up on Halloween morning to her own kind of monster... oh right, it's just her mother. She finally cries a bit and then remembers a birthday gift.)