Disclaimer: The only character that is mine is Olympiya Blayton, all others and including, settings etc are the work of JK Rowling and publisher Bloomsbury

Note: This is a revised version of 'The Unwelcome Return', feel free to read that also. And please leave a review, I absolutely love them!

You know when you wake up in the morning and the overwhelming feeling that smacks you in the face is pure, unadulterated fear? No? It just must be me then. Ever since my involvement with Voldemort way back when got me banished from the Wizarding World, I had spent nearly every morning waking up in this manner. Much easier when you are alone, but this morning was different, for the first time since leaving magic behind I felt able to connect with someone else. Waking up early does have its upsides; one is the ability to experience the world at peace, a rarity nowadays. I gently turned onto my side, making out his toned form under the covers and seeing his mop of black unruly hair poking out from the paleness of the room. After all that green and red, I welcomed the opportunity to neutralise my living space. A clean, unblemished and pure environment, well that's fairly close to the truth. As he stirred from our brief slumber I ran a few fingers through his hair, wishful thinking on my part to who I would much prefer it to be. A tear was trying to make its presence known but I repressed it desperately, even attempting to explain my previous life made my body run cold. His face began to emerge from beneath the sheets along with his tanned arms following, stretching the sleep from his body. Blue eyes met green. His are a flat calm sea colour, the deepest blue imaginable so much so they were almost black. That single aspect was what created the attraction, indescribable. I adore that quality in a person, a mystery that remains so tightly wound up in a soul only mere suggestions rise to the surface. While contemplating this I had not quite noticed that someone had been tapping on the door.

"Are you going to get that?" The gruff voice of someone who had just opened their eyes remarked.

"Oh yes, I didn't hear it." I replied softly.

"They've been banging for ages." Hearing a slight edge to his voice I made my move.

I left the rapidly cooling bed and reached for a robe out of the wardrobe. Wrapping the patterned silk around my naked body I descended the stairs swiftly, avoiding standing on the cool wood for too long. Thankful for the under floor heating I padded over the flagstones with ease and taking the key off the wall I slipped it into the lock and was consequently faced with a very odd figure. For a second we were locking into glazing up and down each other, I was covered in what I had now realised was practically sheer material. He on the other hand was in a top hat, a surreptitious cane, much too short for practical use, and something that resembled a cape. A slightly shaking hand rose with a parchment attached to it; reaching out my own hand I received it. Walking down the steps backwards I called out to him inquiring into who sent him, after touching down on to the pavement he opened his suit jacket. I saw the source; a glinting enamel badge caught the morning sunlight, with a large silver 'M' surrounded by pale blue. Unmistakeable. Stepping back into the shadows of my house I quickly realised that the heating was no longer working, although still on I could no longer feel the warmth.

I could hear my guest moving around my bedroom upstairs collecting his belongings, thankfully making his move to leave. I smiled within myself as I imagined his excuses for leaving, promises to meet up again and the iconic 'I'll call you'. In the few Muggle films I had seen the person who always left first would always promise the unsuspecting victim that they would call them, of course they would not. I presumed it was the Muggle way, however I had come to realise it was on the very edge of politeness. As I heard the heal of his shoes strike the painted wooden floor sharply I dramatically shoved the parchment into the fridge and as I slammed the heavy door shut his feet touched the grey flagstones.

"I'm off." He paused momentarily to look awkward and head towards the front door and standing with his hand resting on the brass doorknob, he finished with a pleasing, "I'll call you." Seeing his leather clad shoulders, which were not broad enough, amble down the street I was extremely glad I never gave him my phone number.

Shutting the door behind him and hearing that very satisfying click of the lock closing him out, I remembered the problem in the fridge. The much larger problem that knowingly lies upon that frosted glass shelf inevitably was not going to go away as easily as my guest. And one thing was for sure, it was going to call back, even if I had purposely not given it my number. Swinging open the mint green door (my only indulgence in colour) I slipped my hand around the frigid paper and pulled it out into the warm air. Breaking the official seal, I saw immediately that it was not exactly from the Ministry, but from Arthur Weasley. I had asked Albus to pass on the message to Arthur to alert me when Harry arrived. I assumed that this was the notice of Harry's arrival, to confirm for my conscience I read it in its entirety.

Dear Alex Bolero,

This might not be what you are looking for.

I re-read numerous times to try and decipher the true meaning; it was even unsigned causing further confusion. Knowing I could not use any magic as the Ministry would come down on me hard, again, I took to my living room and slumped in my comfiest chair. I quickly came to the conclusion that the message was correct; it definitely wasn't what I was looking for. In my frustration I muttered an almost disgusted "Thank you Arthur" and before me the text changed into a loopy script,

Dear Olympiya Blayton,

Just had to make sure it was you. I am sure you understand? I know you are waiting to hear confirmation that Harry has arrived safely. I am sorry to report that he has not arrived and also no owl has been sent. Please would you collect him? I would send someone from the Order but the Ministry would discover this fact and you are not being watched as closely as you have been in the past. I would feel that you could gather him undetected. Molly is very worried and I would ask that you do this post haste.

Arthur Weasley

I stared at the parchment in disbelief; I thought they would have expected him towards the end of the summer, nearer the beginning of term. However the tone of the letter was light and so I decided to act appropriately and commence the packing up of my life. Back upstairs into my bedroom I first dressed myself in suitable clothes to pick up an errant teen wizard. If anyone had been watching me drag my old school trunk from the bottom of my wardrobe they would have been treated to a hilarious scene. Forgetting that everything from my past was in there I misjudged the weight and as I was pulling it out by the top handle I found myself crumpled against my bed. The extra weight took me by surprise, but the more I thought about it I soon realised that I had actually never picked it up without the help of magic. Once I had picked myself up off the floor I quickly summoned the case out with a little help. I gathered that Arthur was telling me that using magic would be allowed now with his subtle message about the Ministry not watching me very much. Emptying my magical past out of the trunk took a little longer than anticipated as I treated myself to secret glimpses into diaries, textbooks and old uniforms. My school tie was stuffed into a corner along with empty potion bottles and scribbled notes. I wanted to take it all with me and sift through it with a little more care and attention, but I knew I couldn't. Once the trunk was completely empty I began putting my new life into it; Muggle clothes, Muggle books, Muggle toiletries… in short I had turned into a bonefide Muggle. My remnant past shivered a little at the though of this notion but I continued to pack, slipping in bits of my past when I though necessary.

Looking around at my slightly emptier room I felt a pang of sadness that I would probably not be returning here again, though I sincerely hoped I would. I shrunk the case down so it could be stowed on my body without it being detected, the last thing I wanted to do was to spoil my apparent good behaviour. Of course as soon as I did this I knew I wanted a coat, the weather had turned for the worse and rain clouds weren't far off. Of course I had to re-size my case and dig out my second favourite one, black was far more suitable for sneaking about than bright red.

Disclaimer: The only character that is mine is Olympiya Blayton, all others and including, settings etc are the work of JK Rowling and publisher Bloomsbury