Written for the Ultimate Patronus Quest (stallion: Write something set in the 16th, 17th, or 18th century)
Isolt is grateful for the moment of peace when Chadwick and Webster fall asleep for the night. Her days have been spent preparing for her eldest son's education, and coupled with the rest of her tasks, she feels as though she might collapse from exhaustion.
She waves her wand, sending her kettle to rest over the flames in the fireplace. A cup of tea to ease her nerves, then bed. She smiles to herself at the thought. It's nice to imagine, but she knows it will not come to pass. She is never lucky enough to have a relaxing evening.
"You know, I like to think that I know you well enough to know when something is bothering you, dear," James says, entering the kitchen, a concerned smile on his kind face.
Isolt sighs and rests her chin over her hands. "It's called exhaustion, my love," she says quietly, trying her best for a smile but failing. "I've never been to school, and I'm still trying to figure how to-"
"That's not what I meant," he interrupts, sitting beside her and rubbing her back.
Isolt closes her eyes at the touch. Sometimes, she wonders if James secretly has magical powers that haven't been discovered. Somehow, he always manages to melt away her tension and make her forget about her troubles, if only for a moment.
"Then what did you mean?" she asks, waving her wand again.
Two cups fly from the cupboard and land on the table, tea leaves following. The kettle comes next, and steaming water spills neatly into the cups. James watches with wide eyes, still fascinated by magic after all these years.
"I meant," he says, tearing his eyes away from the cups, "that you seemed rather, ah, uncomfortable at the suggestion of returning to England to purchase a wand. I doubt the boys noticed it, but there was something in your eyes, Isolt."
She swallows dryly. She has spent so much time running, building a new life for herself, and now her demons are trying to catch up to her. "I am sure that you've just imagined it, James," she assures him, but the slight quiver in her voice betrays her.
James raises his brows, and almost amused smile on his lips. "Did I?" he counters. "Because I know what fear looks like. Something happened before you came here, didn't it?"
She takes her cup and blows the hot liquid. She doesn't want to talk about it, not even to her husband. But James can sense that something is wrong. He's always been so good at reading people. If she denies it, he will only worry about her, and she can't bring herself to let him.
But how does she tell him about her aunt and the wicked things that she's done? How does she tell him about the fire that stole her parents, the years kept prisoner by that wretched woman, the Muggles and animals she's seen tortured?
Just the thought of it brings tears to her eyes. She reaches to wipe them away, but James is faster. His thumb brushes away the tears.
"Tell me, Isolt," he whispers.
And she does. She cannot continue to hide these things from him. Every detail spills from her lips, every dark day of her life before she had managed to escape to freedom.
"She is still out there," Isolt finishes. "I can feel it in my bones. She will never stop hunting me. I've wounded her pride, and she will never forget. She will never forgive."
James is silent for a moment. She searches his eyes for fear but finds none.
Isolt prepares herself. He will decide that this is too much for him. He will tell her that love is not enough to make him chance death.
Instead, he pulls her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And you've kept this inside all this time?" he asks gently. "You've never spoken of this to anyone?"
"Only to you," she answers, tears causing the words to come out choked. "Only now."
He pulls her to her feet, holding her more tightly. "I can't promise that I can protect you if she finds us."
Us. Isolt looks at him, her eyes wide. Not you, but us.
"But I can promise that I will fight for you if she comes to call. You are my wife, Isolt. Your demons are my demons. Your fight is my fight. That's what marriage is."
"James, I could never ask you to do that."
"You won't have to," he says.
He scoops her up into his arms. Again, all the tension in her body, everything that has been bothering her, just melts away with his magic touch. Isolt rests her head against his chest, allowing him to carry her away to their bedroom, their tea completely forgotten.