Reese had put off going back to see Miles. She knew what she needed to tell him, but she was frightened of what might happen once it was out of her and between them. It wasn't fair to have waited though. It wasn't fair to Miles, because he was one of her most precious people, and it wasn't fair to Kiss, because her little baby girl had wanted to see him, and it wasn't fair to herself, because she wanted to see him too.

But Reese knew that seeing him this time wouldn't be the same as all the times before when she'd sought him out for a hug, or to chatter at. She was afraid that after this, she wouldn't be able to do those things anymore. But Reese also knew it wouldn't be right to try be with him how he wanted them to be together when she didn't feel the same way he did.

( … because that’s when I’ll need it the most. )

Ginny had never been to this part of the Ministry, and she hoped after this day that she’d never see its walls again. Her jaw tightened as she clipped steadily down the hall and toward her final destination, paper clutched in her fist. It had been a long night and she wouldn’t have been able to find sleep even if she’d been looking for it. At first light she’d apparated to the Ministry’s atrium and made her way deeper into the earth and toward the holding cells.

She nodded at a man seated behind a desk. A short wave of his wand and the door before her swung open. It meant she’d been expected and that Harry had done what he’d said he would. Ginny knew he was a man of his word, but she’d also realized what she’d asked for was large and unfair. She wasn’t a relative of Blaise. She wasn’t his counsel. As far as the law was concerned, she was nothing to Blaise Zabini. She supposed she was nothing to him either, if what happened yesterday meant anything.

And yesterday meant everything.

( ... without any act of betrayal? )

Harry apparated into Hogsmeade, immediately assaulted by the murmur of activity. It was the middle of the day in the Scottish village, which meant the streets were buzzing with lunchtime errands and people enjoying the break from the work day. Snow lined the sidewalks and hung precariously from rooftops. In the distance, he could make out the silhouette of Hogwarts against the cold grey sky.

“Sir?”

Turning towards the voice, Harry stuffed his hands in his pocket and nodded at Chapman. “The hit wizards are set?”

Chapman nodded. “They’re in place. They’ve confirmed that Zabini is still in the clinic There are a few patients in the waiting room. Nothing that looks like an emergency. Just business as usual.”

( ... is the only truth that sticks )

Harry stared at Zabini Manor with a frown on his face, arms crossed over his chest. He could feel the hum of the wards a few inches in front of him, strong and powerful. The wardbreakers the Ministry employed were good, but even they would have trouble with something this elaborate. He knew most of the older pureblood families utilized overly intricate wards, but then again, they usually had something to hide.

If Blaise Zabini had anything hidden in the manor, they would find it. They would find it and, along with the testimony they’d already collected, they would charge him with deliberate distribution of classified and illegal potions and ingredients. More than that, depending on what they found, he could be charged with negligible homicide. People had died from some of the potions. If any were matched to the ones he’d produced...

Harry looked over when other aurors and various Ministry workers began apparating in beside him.

“Everything quiet?”

( ... What's right isn't about popular )

Even for Diagon Alley, it was cold. Breath fanned in front of people’s faces as they hurried down the street in search of their destinations and a relief from the chill that could dig right to your very soul. Down a side street, however, things grew darker and, impossibly, even more cold.

Knockturn Alley had always been the home of the unsavory underbelly of the wizarding world. The goods sold in the dingy-windowed shops served specific purposes and their prices were marked up accordingly. What was displayed skirted the levels of legality, but everyone knew if you asked the right questions, almost anything could be procured for you.

This was exactly why the underground potions market dealt so easy in Knockturn Alley. Only those searching for something specific knew who to talk to and what to offer for payment. It was a system that took time to learn and understand. The dealers were hesitant to take on new ‘clients’ because of the possible risks.

( ... and dreaming is nursed in darkness )

Mira and Cassie didn’t take lunch together as often as their coworkers supposed. Just because they were twins didn’t mean they spent every waking hour together. Not that Mira minded spending time with her sister. It was just that they lived together and worked together, and both of them enjoyed time apart. Mira often worked through her lunch hour, or grabbed a bite with various friends and acquaintances she’d made over her few years working at the Ministry. Supper was much the same. She knew Cassie and Nate spent several days a week at various local cafes and restaurants in London for either or both meals; she joined them on occasion.

Mira was glad that her twin didn’t have any plans this particular evening, especially with their cousin. As much as she loved Nate, talking about the slightly awkward and confusing situation she’d found herself in earlier in the day with Jason and Harry was not something she wanted to share with her cousin. At least not yet. Perhaps when she wasn’t so unsettled about it all she’d ask his opinion; it was nice to have a man’s view on things. But for now, she just needed her sister.

( … it’s realization is one of the most difficult achievements. )

Harry’s favorite time of the day was lunchtime. It was, usually, the only time that the whole of the office was quiet. Aaron had taken the hour off to have lunch with a friend in Diagon. There were no meetings, no floo calls, no howlers.

Quiet.

Of course, this was the only time that Harry had to catch up on all the paperwork that’d been building up since he started returning to the field, but he didn’t mind it. He was back in the field. He was doing real and proper Auror work. The papers kept talking about how he was stretched too thin, doing too many things, but maybe that was what he’d needed.

( … is that you have to be looking for something in order to find something else. )

Reese didn’t knock on the door. The occupant of this house would know that she was waiting on the porch.

And so she waited patiently, paper wrapped canvas hugged to her chest. Reese faced the sea, eyes closed as she let the ocean’s wind breathe over her face and pick the tendrils of her blonde hair into living things floating about her face. It’d been so long since she’d been near the sea, and it felt wonderful. Nothing else in the world settled her, made her feel so clean. The voice of the ocean was loud and constant; her song and presence did not abide blackness, or any tainted colors, and just being near the water and her unceasing song made Reese feel better than she had in longer than she could remember.

Charlotte had felt Reese arrive at her house. It wasn’t the pulling that she normally felt when someone entered the wards of Panton Veritas, but something entirely different. Unique. She’d felt it when she’d first met the tiny blonde the night of the Hogsmeade Massacre. The empath had never felt anyone like Reese, no one else possessed the same distinct rhythm that the fey-like woman seemed to emit.

( … holding out its hand in the dark. )

Reese was nervous.

It was the kind of feeling that made her feel scared and fluttery inside all at once. It’d been over a year since she’d last seen Callum, and of all the people she’d left behind when Lukas had taken her, she was the least sure of what he would be to her now that she was back.

She hadn’t let her thoughts linger on him while she was away; it only hurt more to think of how happy she’d been -- happier than she’d ever been with anyone -- only to be forcibly reminded over and over that it wasn’t like that anymore, and likely wouldn’t ever be again. She hadn’t had any hope she would be rescued, especially as time had passed, months bleeding into each other until she had lost track of time all together.

( Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. )

I don’t know where you are now, Sam. I’m home though. In Wales.

Come see me?

Reese

*~*~*~*~*

Reese hadn’t ever really considered her family’s old manor, home. It was large, drafty, and dark, and it was full of memories, sticky with colors and feelings of the many witches and wizards that had lived in it over the centuries. But for Reese, everything about the place reminded her of her guardian, Alfred; the well-kept gardens where they had picnics, the small gentleman’s lounge in the east wing where he had taken tea and read stories to her, the solarium was where he had sat as her subject while she painted for hours on end.

Not so long ago thinking about the old man who had raised her only ever made Reese sad, and she’d avoided the feeling as much as possible -- in turn avoiding Ashley Manor as much as possible. In a lot of ways, though, coming back to the estate this time was something of a relief. Reese knew she and Kiss were safe; the lands were unplottable, the stone walls thick, and the wards nearly impenetrable. For the first time, being at Ashley Manor and seeing places that reminded her of Alfred didn’t make her immediately want to leave.

( … but I’m better near to you. )