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It's far too quiet in the house. Cecilia finds herself drifting down an upstairs hallway with a wooden floor just to hear her footsteps echo, breaking the silence of her grief.

Today is Mothering Sunday, but there's no little boy with a sweet cherubic smile bringing her wildflowers clutched in a chubby fist; there's no young man leaning against the doorframe and holding out a bouquet, then bending down to kiss her cheek.

Her son -- her only child, Barty, her darling -- is in Azkaban.

Oh, how she wishes she could see him again! Maybe she can talk her husband into a visit today, of all days. With that thought in mind, Cecilia Crouch hurries down the hallway and opens the door at the end of it, rushing through into the room beyond-- and then stopping in her tracks, staring in shock at Milliways.

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A chair screeches across the floor, a chair that Barty had been sitting in.

He's by the door now.

He was talking about her. Of all the days, she's come, and there's no doubt; she's here, she's come, thank Landlord and Merlin.

He says it quietly and quickly.

"Mother."

She was just at home, and now -- now she's in a strange place, filled with the oddest-looking people, but none of this matters.

White with shock, Cecilia stares at her son.

"Barty. But you-- you're not here. You can't be."

Tom stares at this new arrival. Mother? Barty's mother...

Ask and ye shall receive, he thinks, hovering in the background. Bloody hell, what would I do if mine walked in here one day?

The answer to this particular question is one reason he stays close. He'd need someone nearby, if it were him.

He throws his arms around her.

"Mother, you're here, you're here!" And he just holds her for a little while.

Mother's Day. Mothering Sunday. Today.

As he releases her, looking at her, just managing a smile, "Not impossible. Nothing's impossible here."

It's a dream. It must be. She'd been dizzy earlier, she must have fainted in that upstairs hallway and she'll be found and woken soon enough, but for now....

For now, Cecilia hugs her son tightly, tears blurring her vision.

"Barty. Barty. Oh, my boy, my son, Barty."

Tom stares into his drink. This hurts to watch. The feeling... is surprising to say the least.

"It's so wonderful to see you again!" He's not crying yet. He thinks tears will come, but not just yet.

Nothing in Milliways surprises Barty any more, but this has certainly stunned him. It was always possible, and occasionally he realised it, but he never held out hope.

She must be in as great a shock as he was when he arrived.

"This place," he says, starting with the obvious, "is called Milliways."

Milliways? What sort of name is that?

She shakes her head, lifting a trembling hand to touch his cheek.

"Shhh, darling. It doesn't matter, really. Just let me look at you, just a little longer before I wake."

Wake?

"No, no, you're not asleep! I'm here, Mother. I'm really here. And so are you. I walked through a door and found myself here, just like you. It's all real."

Confusion is evident as she looks back and forth between her son and the dark-haired man standing nearby and tactfully averting his gaze.

"Real? But-- but it can't be. You're-- you're -- they took you away, I saw them--"

"They did, but I escaped. I found my way here. I'm safe now. And now you're here too, Mother!"

The first tear.

"You've come too! I thought I'd..."

He feels it drip down his cheek.

He looks around, considering casting a Concealment charm to make this reunion a more private one.

He also can't help noting the unhealthy pallor in this woman's appearance. He wonders if Barty's mother has, in fact, died and not simply opened a door to make her way here.

Tom isn't the only one watching. Her fingers still with dirt stains from the garden, her hair still windswept from the walk earlier in the day, Morgan is watching. From the bottom of the stairs, her dreamy eyes flicking from Barty to his mother and back again.

"Oh, Barty darling, don't cry, of course I'd-- of course you'd--"

A second's pause, as she realizes what he's just said.

"You're-- you're free? You're safe?" And oh, the hope that blazes, causing hectic color to bloom in her cheeks.

It's all too much, and she feels the room begin to whirl around her as she staggers, swooning, overwhelmed by shock.

As Barty grabs his mother to keep her from falling to the floor, Tom pulls out his wand to come to her aid. A simple Ennervate spell should help her recover from the shock.

"Here, Bartemius, let me help revive her."

"No!" he yells at Tom - panicked, not angry. "No! No magic!"

He holds her steady. She won't be out for long, he knows her, she's fainted before. She'll be conscious again soon.

Barty gasps for breath, and out of sheer shock.

"It's a disease. You can't use magic. It'll react badly."

It's not long at all, in fact, before her eyelashes flutter as she comes fully to her senses, out of the gray-black haze of near-unconsciousness.

"It's all right," she says, the first thought one of reassurance. "I'm all right, there's no trouble, really there's not--"

Softly, because she had walked closer,

"You need to rest." She is not cruel, Morgan. Prickily and amoral and really not sane, but not cruel.

As much as she is starting to be jealous, the girl is still a healer.

He nods to Morgan as she joins them. Then he turns his focus back to Barty and his mother. He's heard of magical diseases such as this, but they're incredibly rare.

"Why don't we help her up to your room, then?"

"Good, good, yes; you're fine, you're alright." He speaks softly to her. Then just a little glance at Morgan, as he helps his mother up again.

"Yes, Tom's right. Let's head upstairs. I've got a room here, Mother, it's not big but it'll hold the four of us. Come on, let's get you up there."

"I'm all right," she soothes automatically, with a half-dazed look of uncertainty at the group, and a quick, confused smile.

"And yes-- let's-- let's go somewhere quieter, Barty, please." Cecilia looks up at her son, smiling as tears of joy blur her light blue eyes.

"It's so wonderful to see you again."

"It's this way, Tom."

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