A/N. Writing about the affair was more difficult than I thought - Harry, in his infinite nobleness, made me change how I originally thought it would transpire. He doesn't know or care that I've written and uploaded 43 chapters of the story already. It was both frustrating and um…funny.
H-Hr about the affair (no graphic scenes - sorry :blush: totally Harry's fault) then Hugo then Al.
I am honoured and delighted (embarrassed and anxious) to announce that PK admins/mods over at the Forums have chosen me to be the next interviewee/victim on PK spotlight (see ad below). For neat forum stuff or if you have questions for me click on the links below.
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Portkey (PK) staff twisted our arms asked us for this plug:
PK Spotlight
We've now released our first PK Spotlight issue featuring Gwendy! If you've been active in the fandom, you've very likely seen people borrow her drawings of H/H, D/G, R/LL or other HP characters. Apparate to our PK Spotlight forum pronto to read what kept her away and what brought her back!
We're also inviting YOU to submit questions here for our next Spotlight interviewee: BB Ruth. Yep, she who wrote this fic you're reading!
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This Spotlight project aims to interview more HP shipmates, most of whom would be PK members but may also include guests. All in the spirit of being better friends with our fandom-mates! You or your fav writer, artist, beta, reviewer, vidmaker, forumer or lurker could be our next victim … er, interviewee!
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Chapter 44 - The Affair
July 2007
I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep because if I do, the next moment of my life will be the day after. I don't want it to be the day after. I want this day to last forever.
I am lying beside her in bed and she is serene in my arms. I think she is finally asleep. I haven't let go of her since we stopped talking. A part of me is afraid that she might disappear, that I am going to lose her again when I do.
She kills me. What she did for me kills me. As I'm holding her now that's all I can think of. I can't go past the thought of how much I've made her suffer. She didn't have to go through all that alone; she could have shared the burden of the truth with me. But she chose to spare me from the hurt.
I can only imagine what it was like for her and I know that the pain I feel for our loss is but a speck of what she went through for me. And I can't blame her for the choice she made. She had no way of knowing things would turn out like this. She didn't know if or when I'd ever remember again. I was happy and she couldn't spoil that. I understand because if I were her I would have made the same choice.
I desperately want to right this wrong but I know what I just did has made things worse. Everybody knows two wrongs don't make a right. It was selfish of me; she didn't want this, but I need to be with her because I have no face to tell her how I really feel about her and I am desperate for her to know.
She says she knows and she believes me but she's only saying that to make me feel better. I know her. I can't see her taking my word for it, not after what I put her through. Even I wouldn't believe me. Worst of all, she thinks I am with her now because of guilt and she hates it that she can't say 'no' to me when common sense tells her she should.
She kills me. The way she loves me kills me. And the fact I can't prove to her that I love her back kills me even more.
I pull her closer to me; her unconscious acceptance of my embrace satisfies a fraction of my need to give her my love. I can only think of one way to make this all better for her. I'd hate myself if I do it and I'd hate myself if I don't. It would be right and so wrong at the same time.
I look at the clock. It is two in the morning. The sound of the second hand as it ticks away precious minutes brings home a sense of urgency. I know. I have to make a choice and soon.
XXXXXXXXXX
I wake up. I am sore all over but in a good way and I am naked under the sheets. I remember where I am and what happened.
He is on the bed beside me, nudging me lightly. I open my eyes and he is sitting, fully clothed, with an apologetic look on his face. He hasn't slept. I sit up, gathering the sheets up to my chest as I do. I note my unnecessary modesty and immediately associate it with forbidden fruit. Okay, so maybe I am losing it a bit.
His quiet voice breaks the silence between us, "I have to go."
Hmm. I didn't expect that to hurt. I bite my lower lip and I stare at the clock behind him because I can't look at his face. The numbers come into focus. It is almost five. I swallow the lump in my throat.
"Okay," I hear myself reply.
"The kids...she has practice and..."
"You don't have to explain."
I interrupt. I don't want to hear it. Really. I know he is a married man with responsibilities and I am...well...just his mistress.
He nods. I feel his eyes on me and I know he won't go away until I look back.
"I want to see you, again," he whispers to me when I do.
He means like this and he is making me cry. I want to see him again, too. I barely hear my reply as I plead with him.
"Don't do this..."
Tears are trickling down his cheeks. He touches my face with his warm, gentle hand, steadying me as he leans in. We kiss. It is long, sweet and sad and tugs at something within my chest. He hugs me right after and I sob in his arms.
Stroking my hair, his lips brush against the top of my head every now and then. While he tries to comfort me all I think about is that this isn't going to last. He has to go and it's making me feel worse.
I want him to stay and to love me, and I don't mean just now but he can't. I will myself to stop crying. I don't want him to pity me or feel guiltier about me.
"You have to go."
Convincing him that I'll be fine is difficult but he leaves eventually. When he does I waste no time. I pick myself up right away and I go home, hoping he'll listen to what I'm asking.
He is struggling. I know he thinks he has a choice but really, he doesn't. A lesser man would have the option of leaving his family but this is how Harry is different. I understand him this way.
I am not delusional. Even if he loves me enough I know he cannot leave his family. It wouldn't be him if he did. But I can't make the decision for him. He has to come to it himself.
XXXXXXXXXX
It is difficult to work with the distraction.
I am stuck in this hour long meeting with Jean Haute and members of his entourage. Others in attendance are Hermione, Kingsley, Humptail and Percy. I can't focus and I don't really care about what it is the sculptor is proposing to create and what security measures he is demanding during and after the construction of his 'masterpiece'.
Hermione is across the table from me, quite engaged in the back and forth exchange of ideas. She hasn't made eye contact with me since the meeting started. We haven't spoken a word to each other since the morning I left Grimmauld. She has been keeping her distance from me, too, and she sends a clear message that she wants no part of me that way.
I am trying to stay away as she asked. It is difficult fighting against myself. I miss her; I miss making love to her. Just sitting a few feet from her makes the burning within me burn even more.
What has kept me away for the past two days is the memory of her pleading. She doesn't want to be the other woman and I am sickened by the fact that I've made her just that. I stay away because I love her so much I don't want to hurt her any more than I already have.
Thank goodness Ginny is distracted by the Harpies run for the World Cup. She hasn't noticed anything amiiss although I thought she did look at me funny that morning I came home from Grimmauld. She asked me where I was all night and I told her the truth - that I was with Hermione.
"You've been spending a lot of time with her lately. Is she okay?" she questioned innocently.
"She's not," I replied without eye contact, daring my entire life to implode at that very moment.
I waited for her to ask me more questions. I was hoping she would but she left it at that, mentioning something about seeing Hermione too. She is not usually dense and for a moment I considered that she suspected but that didn't make sense. The Ginny I know would have confronted it head on. Ginny is the most direct person I know. It is one of the things I like about her.
I recall that she was very direct that night I turned her down at the Burrow. It was just before the Gaunt incident four years ago when the Harpies were in London for a game. I told her I was seeing someone seriously, serious enough to ask to marry.
Ginny didn't take the news all too well and what happened after in her room between us wasn't a moment she would be proud of, at least not according to my recollection. I found out the following morning that that same night her teammate, Druhilda, took her memory of my rejection away, because that's what 'friends' are for, and I was told by same 'friend' that if I cared about Ginny I should keep my mouth shut about her missing memory.
I did. It was actually a good thing that she didn't remember. She played really well against London the next day and things weren't awkward between us. I preferred it then. But on hindsight, if she had that memory we wouldn't be married right now and Hermione and I would be together.
I've wondered if Druhilda (who, by the way, is no longer a 'friend' and has since retired from professional Quidditch) told her eventually but I quickly dismissed the thought, too. If that was the case Ginny would have easily deduced who it was I was seeing. Hermione's behaviour alone would have clued her in. Again, she would have said something.
I can't help but ponder over how I think about Ginny now. Days ago she was my wife, the mother of my children, the person I love and would spend the rest of my life with. Now, she is still all that to me except she is not the one I want to spend my life with anymore.
It is scary how my entire world has turned upside down because of that one detail. With my recovered memories of Hermione I am hounded by what-ifs of the past and what-ifs of the future. Being with Ginny for years should count for much more compared to the mere months I was with Hermione but it doesn't. I think it's because I've known Hermione longer, we've been through a lot and Hermione knows me best. And, most importantly, I know I love Hermione more.
I don't know what to do. I think it, I dream it, I want to do it. It is the last thought I have before I go to bed at night and the first when I wake up. I want to leave Ginny but it's complicated. It'll be unfair to James and Al, and also Ginny. There is no just way to leave your family for someone else; there is no just way to leave your family - period. And every day I am no closer to an answer as to what to do.
Or maybe I have my answer but I'm having difficulty accepting it.
The thing is, I chose to be with Hermione that night when I remembered and I would choose to be with her every night if she would let me. I choose her but she won't let me because I'm married and no matter how much I think it possible I can't abandon my family.
I look over to where she is. The dark lines under her eyes are noticeable. She looks tired and pale and knowing that she hasn't been sleeping well makes me want to hold her even more. I doubt that she has confided with anyone about what we are going through. We don't have anyone else but each other. We need each other to get through this but I don't know if depending on each other right now is a good idea.
I miss her. I miss talking with her, touching her, kissing her, breathing her. Damn it. Thinking about her like this is so not helping. Hermione and I need a clean break. I need to talk to her to help me figure out how best to let her go.
Her mouth is moving; she is angry about something but I haven't been paying attention to the proceedings to know what it is about. She just called Haute a delusional, pompous fraud. Barbs fly across the table and Kingsley adjourns the pointless meeting. She leaves before I can say her name.
I can't stand this. It can't end like this. I call her phone and she answers after a long while. I tell her I have to see her.
XXXXXXXXXX
He stays away but only for a couple of days. He called me to talk, to end this insanity we are putting ourselves through and go back to the way things were. Instead, we end up going on with the way things are. We are back at Grimmauld in our room on our bed. Making love with him is bittersweet. It is wonderful but the aftermath is the same. He is a torn and I can't bear seeing him this way. At some point he will break, I am sure of it.
We don't talk about Ginny, not about James, not about Al or Rosie and not about how wrong this is. If we can't talk then we are no longer who we are to each other. I consider that he needs time to let me go; it took me years to let go of him. The decision isn't difficult. I cannot imagine him choosing this over his family.
I realize that part of the reason it is taking him so long is that he doesn't want to hurt me when he chooses them over me. And even I don't want him to decide. I don't want him to feel bad about letting go of us.
But the longer we are silent about it, the more things will stay the way they are. It scares me that they will. I can see myself being fine with this, with being the other woman. I never imagined I ever would for any man but for him, now, I do. It is so idiotic and irrational that is so beyond my comprehension. How can I when I know that it shouldn't be? It is obvious that this is destroying us from the inside out and we have to end it before it changes us into people we hate.
"I don't expect you to leave Ginny," I tell him as he was leaving, "I don't want you to leave her."
That wasn't entirely true. The selfish bitch in me does want him to, but if he leaves Ginny then he is no longer the Harry I am in love with and if he does it because he cares about me I'd rather that he didn't care about me at all. My love for him is pure. If he changes because of me I would hate myself.
He merely nods in reply.
A few days later Rosie is back with me and I have an excuse not to see him. For all my righteous mental rallies to help me tell him to fuck off I hide behind my daughter's presence. That worked for a while until he started coming to our house.
It isn't about sex. He comes straight from work and slips into bed with me. We cuddle and talk until we fall asleep, just like a married couple. Sometimes we do make out, with my daughter asleep next door, but since that second time at Grimmauld we always stop short of consumating the desire that eats us both up. He wants to satisfy me through other creative ways but after doing that once, I found out that he is firm against letting me do the same for him. I have since declined his generous offer. I think it makes us both feel a bit better as human beings that we don't indulge in that part of our strange arrangement.
I admit that it is very frustrating. To want someone who wants you and not have that kind of intimacy is torture but I tell myself that it's better this way. He doesn't feel as guilty about being with me and he is not as torn. I can be with Ginny, James and Al without feeling too guilty. I can even convince myself sometimes that we are not having an 'affair'. I think he sometimes thinks the same.
I have to laugh. This is what I get for choosing to have an affair with a `noble' man. It's a rubbish deal not to have that perk of being his mistress but it is not why I love him and not why I let him come and spend the night with me.
However I can't imagine this being this way forever. He can't expect me to survive like this. I don't expect him to abstain. He knows I know he and Ginny may not have been intimate in recent past but that will change. The thought of that eventuality is quite deflating and it gets worse after I move from wondering to assuming that he has had sex with his wife. I feel horrible but I accept it. He is not my husband; he is Ginny's.
In a matter of days this has become a part of my life. He comes and goes as he pleases, as his schedule permits. In fairness he always calls before he comes and asks if he can. He is giving me the option to end it but I always say 'yes'. And even if I can say 'no' I won't make his decision for him.
The anticipation of whether or not he will call to ask is taking a toll on me. So this is how it feels to be with someone who belongs to someone else. I wonder how it will end. Will he just stop calling? Will he just stop asking? Will we just stop doing it?
As unpredictable his calls are when he does drop by to spend the night it is like clockwork. We fall asleep in each others' arms then at five o'clock he wakes me up and leaves. Soonafter I cry.
Crying is a relief. I dread the day when I no longer feel bad about the fact that he has to go. That would mean I'm okay with being who I am to him. I'm not okay with being okay. I am a bad role model for my daughter already. I am just trying to hang on because he needs time.
I do wish he'd realize sooner that he doesn't have a choice. I wish he'd see what he's doing to me and that he'd love me enough to let me go.
XXXXXXXXXX
I enter our flat and find Ginny in the kitchen. She looks up from her almost empty fruit bowl and greets me with a wide smile.
"Good morning," she says, comes closer and tip toes to give me a peck on my mouth.
"Hi," I reply.
"Your shirt is wet," she notices what I don't.
"It's water. Long story."
I quickly dry my self off as she tells me what I have to know for the day.
"Al and James are seeing Healer Moss at 4. I'll try to be there but just in case I'm late and he asks why you're there tell him they're due for their shots."
"Okay."
"Oh, and don't forget to ask Humptail for the night off tomorrow," she reminded me.
"No party," I remind her back.
"Quiet dinner with family, I promise," she assures me, crossing her heart but I know the meaning of the impish smile on her face, "See you later."
She gives me another chaste kiss and leaves for practice, mentioning something about a pre-birthday present. I'm thinking about how happy she is, oblivious to what's going on, and contrasting that to seeing Hermione crying earlier.
I left Hermione in bed this morning but doubled back when I realized I didn't have my wand. I found her in the shower, sobbing. I shut off the water and held her until she had no more tears to shed. Once again I had asked too much of her. In my efforts to not hurt her further I've hurt her even more.
After changing clothes I peek in and enter our boys' room. They are still asleep. Watching them so calm and serene makes me feel the same and it is with this clarity that I come to decide.
I have to be honest about it. This is my reality, our reality. Hermione and I are no longer alone. We have those who depend on us and rely on us for moments of their lives and our lives aren't just ours anymore.
Forsaking all others for this, for love, as romantic a notion that is, is a cop out. It is the easy way out and knowing Hermione she will not find happiness with me if I do this. It will be wrong; we will hurt people we care about and we will both be miserable. And what will that say of us and of our love?
There is no fair way to leave my family and there is no fair way to let Hermione go. While I have no doubt that she would not deny me if I selfishly asked for us to carry on with this, staying with her will hurt her more. I can't stay with her. Not like this.
In my heart I know she will understand it the same way I do. This is what she wants me to do. She doesn't have to say it. Her eyes this morning were asking me to let her go.
My only hope is that she understands that I chose this not because I don't love her or I love her less. It's because I love her more.
XXXXXXXXXX
Rosie just fell asleep. It is a warm night and I am in the sitting room trying to read a book. It is the eve of his birthday. There's a surprise party being thrown for him tomorrow and I am thinking of excuses not be there.
He found me crying this morning. It got worse when he stepped into the shower with me and held me throughout my emotional breakdown. He apologized and I think he now fully understands what I'm going through. The end should come soon.
I hear a knock on the door. It is Harry and it is time. He comes in already heartbroken. He tries to tell me what needs to be said but he can't say the words. Coming to this decision wasn't easy and putting it in words even harder.
I speak for us and tell him I understand. We are in tears. He is kissing me and I am kissing him back. It hurts, much more than I remember it hurting the last time. I pull away and as I gaze into his green eyes, I can't hide what I want.
Without a word he takes my hand in his and I walk with him to my bedroom. We make love for the very last time.
I wake up the next morning on my own. It is a little after five and he is gone. In his stead I find a golden locket on his pillow, within it is a picture of me and Rosie.
I cry for him. Acceptance is the hardest part and he has finally accepted that this is for the best.
As I close the locket I feel markings on the back and turn it over. Two delicately inscribed words are on it.
Unconditional
Forever
Rivers of tears gush down my face. Save for that one time when he thought I was asleep I never heard him say what he desperately wanted to say. Even as we made love last night he couldn't because he didn't think I would believe him.
But I now know more than ever that he does love me deeply. If he didn't, he wouldn't have let me go.
XXXXXXXXX
Present Time - Somewhere in Southeast Asia
Hugo looked up at his father and told him what he believed, "He's lying."
"You were eavesdropping?"
"Spare me the lesson," he couldn't help the biting remark, "Did you hear what I said? He's lying."
"What about?"
"Malvado doesn't have the Hallows."
"Because your Mum had them all at one time to be Mistress of Death," the Auror realized.
"That night after Gaunt died at Godric's Hollow, Mum hid the real Hallows in her bag just before she lost consciousness. The wand in Professor Dumbledore's tomb and the stone at the Ministry were fakes. Unfortunately she just couldn't replicate the cloak easily," Hugo explained.
"How would he know that your Mum never returned them?"
"Seriously, we're talking about Mum here. Don't tell me Uncle Warren knows my Mum better than you do."
That remark effectively made his father's face redden. It was too easy and satisfying flustering his old man but Hugo figured, guilt-filled or not, his father had enough and he had to temper his need to make the old man suffer.
"Where are the Hallows?" the Auror asked.
"I don't know but the POTH would. She put the group together to keep an eye on the Peverell heirlooms. And as far as I know there were seven members, not six like Uncle Warren said."
"Why would he lie?"
"That's what I'm wondering too but I don't like the fact that he is. We have to get Mum out of here," Hugo stopped short of saying he didn't trust the wizard anymore.
To his relief his father was in agreement.
"The wards I can break," the older man said, "I don't want to hurt the local beings unless necessary. Is there someone I can talk with, one they will follow?"
Hugo nodded, understanding his concern and admiring him for it.
"Don't worry about them. I'll handle that part," he assured him with confidence, "Is there a safe place we can move her to? Anywhere but your house."
"I have a couple in mind but we'll have to ask your Aunt Jessie if she has concerns about moving her to either. Malvado is hunting down the remaining POTH. We have to find them before Malvado does," Hugo heard the obvious, "If you have any other information that your Mum told you about the POTH, now's the time..."
"Mum never told me any of this. Being Mistress of Death was a part of her life she wasn't very proud of, a part she didn't want me to know about. She doesn't know that I know about it."
"Who told you? Warren?"
Hugo shook his head, "Let's get my Mum out and I'll help you find out more about the POTH."
His father paused with that look that he wasn't going to let him.
"I'd rather you stayed with your Mum," at least he was honest, "It'll be good for her to see you when she wakes up."
There was only trying not to roll his eyes in response to the obvious psychological attempt to get him to do what his father wanted. He should just say that he doesn't want him to be in danger. Hugo played the game.
"Mum sent me to you because she knows I'll be safe with you. If she wakes up then we can both come back right away. You'd want to talk to her as soon as she does, wouldn't you?"
XXXXXXXXXX
"Are we there yet?" Al asked Rosie anxiously.
It was high noon local time and the harsh sun was making him sweat. They were walking to and from then around this smelly, dirty, fresh produce market that stunk of fish and Merlin only knew what odours.
"Obviously not," his cousin replied angrily, "If you ask me that question one more time..."
"If you tell me where we're going maybe I won't."
Locals were staring. Earlier, a couple had stopped them and asked if they needed help.
"If I knew exactly where we're going don't you think we'd be there already?"
"You mean we've been walking for hours..."
"One."
"My feet are killing me..."
"You're such a whiner."
"And you don't know where Hugo is?!"
"I don't but I know someone who might."
"Might?! We've crossed an entire continent on a might?!"
"I didn't ask you to be here, remember?"
"It's just like you to think you know it all and not have a clue..."
"Ssssh!"
"And that's exactly why I had to come."
"We're here!!""
"Where?"
Rosie pointed to the row of restaurants in front of them. There were lots of Muggles coming and going from most of them except for one with a barely noticeable sign hanging above its wooden door, 'Graciela's'. Al saw a man and a woman enter, but others walked past it without it even earning a glance.
"I knew it was near the market. Only magicals can see it," his cousin explained, "Mum took me here a few times during my last visit. The owner is a vampire."
"A what?!"
"Don't worry. She's a friend of Mum's. If Hugo came back here she would know where to find him."
"A vampire who runs a restaurant. Anything else I should know before we go in there?"
Al didn't trust Vampires very much. From what he knew of them they were volatile beings who had no loyalties except to themselves and their own kind and there were a considerable number of their kind who weren't nice.
They went in and took the table closest to the door, his hand on his wand just in case. Rosie was tense too as she craned her neck towards the server, disappointed that it was someone she didn't recognize.
She spoke to them in the local language which neither of them understood.
"Is Grace here?" Rosie asked the waitress.
"No Grace here," replied their server in halted English, "Do you like food?"
There was considerable attention being thrown at them now. It was understandable. They were non-locals and young to be there by themselves. But Al was particularly worried about the two shady characters in black robes seated across the room. One of them was on the phone and spoke without taking his eyes off of him.
"Your Mum was a brave witch," someone said to him, "You should be proud."
Before he could reply, the man left and another wizard said almost the same thing, adding with concern, "You are very brave too to come but you shouldn't be here, boy."
Rosie addressed his confusion, "They think you're Hugo."
"Hugo?" their server seemed panicked when she heard the name and erroneously concluded that he was Hugo too.
She disappeared quicker than she appeared.
"Is everyone leaving the room or am I imagining things?" Rosie whispered.
True enough in a few seconds they were alone in the restaurant except for the two men. The wizards, he presumed they were, had not said anything to them but had left their seats and were approaching.
"We should go," he told Rosie.
"Yeah let's."
They made a move for the exit but found the exit blocked by pale faced beings.
"Al, I'm so sor-"
"Get behind me," he said to her, his wand already drawn out as they backed away from the entrance.
The wizards and vampires were laughing derisively, mocking them in a language he didn't entirely understand. They were saying something about how he was foolish to come back when his Mum (Aunt Hermione) was dead and how everyone else would be afraid to protect him.
His heart was pounding so hard he could barely breathe. Neither he nor Rosie could Disapparate yet. They'd have to fight their way out or run.
Rosie had her wand drawn out too. His thoughts ran rapidly through the offensive and defensive spells he knew; Expelliarmus, Protego, and other spells of no use if your opponents had no wands.
There was a low growl behind them and Rosie squealed. It was a werewolf, a salivating hungry looking one.
"Easy Bingo," cautioned one, "Malvado wants him alive."
They backed away until they felt a wall behind them. They were cornered. Calculating their chances was disheartening but he tried not to mirror the fear in Rosie's eyes.
"Don't be scared," said one of them in English, "Malvado just wants to talk with you. Tell you he's sorry for - um - killing your Mummy."
His companions laughed again.
Rosie's fist tightened. Al read her mind but really, if Malvado killed Aunt Hermione, he didn't need much imagination what the murderer would do with them. The one thing working for them was that the goons were only interested in him and not Rosie.
He told Rosie, "Listen. Forget what you're thinking. I'm going to get you out of here."
"There's nothing that we can do!"
"Rosie, calm down!"
"Calm down?! I'm about to be responsible for our deaths and you want me to calm down!?"
"We're not going to die," Al swallowed the lump in his throat, "I'm going to go with them."
"You idiot!"
Rosie smacked him on the back of his head and got him before he could duck.
"Aw! Don't do that!"
The humiliating laughter stung more than the spot Rosie hit.
"Have you gone spare?! That is the stupidest idea I've heard of in my entire life!"
"They don't want you, they want me!" Al glared at her, hoping she wouldn't correct their error but Rosie had other plans.
"And how long do you think before they figure out you're not Hugo?!"
"He's not Hugo?" the English speaking one caught on.
"I am Hugo!" Al tried to lie convincingly.
Rosie made a scoffing sound, "He's lying. If he were Hugo, do you think we'll still be talking and you'll still be standing unharmed? Hugo would have kicked your butts already."
"Rosie!"
That was kind of insulting. Al was older. He should know more than Hugo.
"This is his cousin. I'm sure Malfucko will be happy to waste his time on some inconsequential cousin," she said to the one who understood English and now looked worried, relaying his concern to his colleagues
"Stop that!" a vampire commanded Rosie. She had opened her rucksack and was rummaging through it, "What are you doing, little girl?"
"I have proof in here somewhere," Rosie began shoving stuff against his chest as she dug deep into her bag and mumbled aloud, "Where's that fucking picture..."
What picture was she talking about?
Rosie was emptying her pack so fast stuff started falling on the floor. He picked them up and only then did he begin to recognize the items in his hands; an Invisibility cloak and some Weasley Wheezes Peruvian darkness inspired firecrackers. Rosie's plan dawned on him the second she gave him the signal.
She set off the first one right on the floor in front of them and sent the entire room into darkness. There was shouting and swearing. They deployed a few more over where their enemies were to distract them just as Rosie grabbed the cloak from him, threw it over their heads and blasted a hole through the back wall behind.
Al felt Rosie dragging him out into the warm sun. Light filtered through the opening the second they went through it and they stood quietly up against the now imperfect wall, holding their breaths while their would-be-kidnappers went through the hole too and dispersed in all directions, the werewolf transforming into human form before doing so.
As soon as their foes were out of sight they went back in. He took off the cloak and turned to Rosie.
"You stole my Dad's cloak!"
"Borrowed. He won't even miss it. He's got lots," he gave her a look of disapproval to which she replied, "Well, I'm sorry I didn't have time to drop by the local magical store to get one of my own."
"That's his collection. I can't believe you went through my Dad's personal stuff! That is just so wrong!"
"Compared to sneaking out of your house and coming over here? Geez, Al, chill. I think the cloak is the least of our worries."
She was right. His Dad was going to be very disappointed and his Mum was going to kill him.
Guilt ate him up, "We should probably send a note that we're fine."
Rosie had a worried look too, "This place isn't safe for you. You should go home."
After that close call he wanted to but he couldn't leave Rosie by herself and he let her know, "Only if you go home with me."
"I have to find Hugo," she replied apologetically.
He understood. If he was his brother he would want to look for him too. Wait - Hugo was his brother.
"I'll help you find him," he said with renewed determination and a more positive tone, "That was brilliant, by the way."
His cousin was not as impressed.
"Yes, but they are coming back and there will be no surprising them the next time."
"What now?"
"I don't know. We could hang around outside, wait for Grace..."
"She could be dead, or no longer your Mum's friend," he suggested sensitively. "What about Hugo's friend?"
"Probably back in school at the IMAN."
"Shouldn't you two be in school too?" a man's voice interrupted them, "Seriously, can't your parents keep you under control?"
"Warren!"
Al turned and a tall man dressed in priest clothes welcomed Rosie into his arms. Al knew him to be someone his Aunt Hermione brought to Potter parties in the past. He was a priest?
Beside him was their out of breath and very anxious waitress and a pale beautiful local woman who Rosie seemed relieved to see.
"Albus, right?" Warren asked him.
He nodded. His cousin seemed to trust the older man without question but there was something about how the wizard looked at him that was unsettling.
"You shouldn't have come," Warren said to Rosie although it seemed directed more at him.
"We know. But Hugo left and we want to help him find Mum's killers," Rosie replied, "Is he here?"
"He came with your Uncle Harry a few hours ago," Warren answered Rosie's query then asked Al pointedly as if questioning his intentions, "And you want to help too?"
"Yes, I want to help."
"You Mum's going to have a hissy fit."
The disrespectful tone was evident and the words gushed naturally to push back, "That's none of your business!"
The asshole chuckled in response, "Fine but don't say I didn't warn you about your Mum."
XXXXXXXXXX
A/N. Okay…did the affair make sense? I wanted so much for Harry to choose Hermione without qualms about leaving his family but Harry wouldn't let me. I hope he is forgiven for the difficult choice he had to make.
Rosie makes me smile :)
In the next one we should see more of Hugo and Harry - that will be fun to write.
And also - thanks so much to the reader who nominated TK for the `Best Angst Fic Award' over at another fanfic site. I was pleasantly surprised when I got word this week. That was totally unexpected and warmed the cockles of my heart.
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