23 September 1978
Kingsley Shacklebolt woke up on the couch late in the afternoon. He lived in a studio flat in the heart of London, though he did not call this place home. It was a large room with a combined sitting room, bedroom, and kitchenette; a bathroom stood off to the side. They left the windows open because it was hot in late summer, early September. It wasn't the best place. It served enough for its purposes, though. This was all that it served as a part of their cover story. Kingsley wasn't himself at the moment: he was a Muggle, with a wife and no children. He tailed Rodolphus Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood. This was the third week into the mission, and things had been quiet.
Patti stepped out of the bathroom wearing a long burgundy cotton dress and running a blue towel through her damp hair. A little drowsy, Kingsley joined her in the bedroom and spotted a heavyset Muggle watching them from the window in a building next door. Kingsley caught Patti's refection in the full-length mirror and and cut his eyes toward the watcher. She dropped the towel on the floor and picked up a brush on the dressing table. Conscious of the Muggle, Kingsley slipped his hands around Patti's waist and rested them on her stomach as she brushed her hair. He hoped it appeared like they did this every single day.
"I'm going to kiss your neck," he whispered into Patti's ear.
She gave an almost imperceptible nod. Kingsley smoothed her hair to one side. As his hand shifted, he swore he felt her quiver. The skin beneath his hand on her stomach moved. Surprised, he dropped his hand. Mad-Eye, the Auror who ran this operation, had told them to act like a happy couple. Kingsley had only had ever been in relationships with two other women - one of those ended badly, and the other had been a flash in the pan - so married life was new ground for him. Patti wore a wedding band. She'd been married to an Obviator called Nathan Jordan for three years. When Kingsley asked if the mission would cause trouble with her husband, Patti had calmly said that hers wasn't that type of marriage.
Kingsley took a lace shawl off a wooden chair and handed it to her. Patti linked it through her arms. They kept their personal and professional lives separate: John Dawlish insisted on this. Kingsley hesitated, feeling like he crossed the line here. "Are you pregnant?"
"Yes." She gave him a small smile as she pinned her hair.
"Congratulations," he said, getting on the floor and searching the place for his shoes. "When are you due?"
It was easier, he felt, to perform less magic while among Muggles because the temptation lessened and the role got easier. He asked the next question because this operation could go on indefinitely. When and if she took leave, he needed to know because this switch could make things awkward for a while. Of course, he reasoned as he sat on the edge of the unmade bed and laced up his polished shoes, they could just use Polyjuice Potion. The other person would not, he thought with a pang in his chest, be Patti Jordan. He liked her company.
"Early December, I think." Patti applied lotion to her face and hands and stepped into her shoes. She checked her small pocketbook. "It's good we're going out to dinner because I'm starving."
They stood in as protection detail for Dirk Cresswell, his wife, and children. Nothing had happened at the Goblin Liaison Office, per se, yet Dirk found himself in a spot of trouble that got traced back to Mr. Rookwood. The small children were with a sitter this evening, and the Cresswells were celebrating their wedding anniversary. Not wanting to send the nice couple into a panic, Mad-Eye and Dawlish both agreed Patti and Kingsley, would act as family friends.
They had, Mad-Eye had instructed as he handed over the details of their cover, been married some three years. Mad-Eye suspected something going down at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Although you couldn't break into the bank, Mad-Eye had insisted on detail.
"Do you think Cresswell's dealing something he shouldn't be?" Kingsley opened the door and locked it with a tap of his wand. The key was in his pocket. If this were his call, and nothing had been his decision, he would've preferred to stay at a hotel.
"It's not my job to think about what he's hiding," said Patti, zipping her handbag and following him down the corridor, down the outside rickety staircase and opening a large black umbrella. She checked herself, pausing with an apologetic expression. She softened. "I'm sorry. I don't want to get involved. We protect them and go home at the end of the day."
"Does Mad-Eye know?" Kingsley looked her up and down when Patti appeared to be confused.
"Oh, yes, of course. He pointed it out to me before I knew. He said I had swollen ankles." Patti took his arm.
When they walked into the small restaurant, Kingsley led her over to the table beside the Cresswells. They barely acknowledged each other. Kingsley merely clapped Dirk on the shoulder before he pulled out the chair for Patti and sat down opposite her. Smiling, he drummed his fingers on the menu, wondering if he ought to order for her. Patti took matters into her own hands and ordered a baguette , a salad and a bowl of French onion soup, Kingsley went with the salad. Thanking the waiter, he handed the menus over and watched the Creswells with polite interest.
Patti sipped her water. "You think we have the same wedding anniversary?"
Kingsley made a face, confused. Dirk dropped one of his forks in the floor and bent to pick it up. When their food arrived, Kingsley cut his salad with a knife and fork. Patti dug right in. This amused Kingsley, so he divided his attention between Mr. and Mrs. Cresswell and Patti. He sipped his wine and barely touched his food. He'd always known Patti as this fit person who surpassed everyone in their annual physicals at the Auror Office, so witnessing her put away this much food in such a short time was truly entertaining.
"What?" Patti glanced at Mrs. Cresswell and then down at her half-eaten baguette, because that was all that remained on her plate. She blushed and tossed a clean napkin at him. "You're rude. How are you not eating right now?"
"I'm watching my wife, thank you," he said, laughing softly when she stopped eating altogether. He nudged the plain salad over to her. "That's impressive."
"You eat rabbit food with no dressing," she said, declining his salad. "No, thank you, I'm not a health nut."
Kingsley raised his eyebrows, and she hit him with a napkin this time. Patti got to her feet and excused herself as she went in search of the bathroom. Kingsley, relaxed, escorted the Cresswells home through Side-Along Apparition. He returned minutes later and headed down the narrow London street. He stopped, watching Patti with a heavyset man dressed in black robes. They seemed to be having an argument. The man, who Kingsley assumed was Mr. Jordan, talked with his hands, and Patti crossed her arms. A moment later, she seemed to trip over her gown.
Kingsley rushed forward. Mr. Jordan caught her and steadied her in his arms. As Kingsley approached, they exchanged hurried introductions. Mr. Jordan took off his cloak and draped it over his wife's shoulders.
"She's just tired," said Mr. Jordan.
"Patti, are you all right? We need to report to Mad-Eye." Kingsley thought her eyes appeared glossy, but this could just be the light.
"She's fine," said Mr. Jordan, a little tersely, guiding his wife down the street. Patti said good night. "Do all of you marry yourselves to your jobs? We're going home."
"Patti." Kingsley followed them to the Apparition point,, struggling to remind her they were on assignment. He hadn't noticed her light-headedness or a headache. He watched them disappear, a little disappointed. "Okay."
When he got back to the flat, he walked right past Mad-Eye, who sat in a wooden chair. Kingsley backtracked, taking off his suit jacket, and waved to him.
Mad-Eye raised his gnarled hands in question. "Where's the wife?"
"With her husband," said Kingsley, hanging his jacket in the wardrobe.
"She's what?" Mad-Eye got unsteadily to his feet and clutched an umbrella as a makeshift walking stick.
Kingsley made a mental note to remember to thank Patti for this tomorrow. He was on the receiving end of Mad-Eye's anger, and he didn't deserve it. Kingsley phrased it another way, knowing it would do no good. "She had a headache."
"She knows better." Mad-Eye slammed the door when he left.
31 October 1986
Kingsley's first mission proved an embarrassment. It was a stain on his record. Nothing had happened to the Cresswells, of course, yet he had failed to follow the proper procedure. When he cornered her in the lift the following morning and asked if she'd recovered from her headache, Patti claimed she had no idea what he was talking about. By her recollection, they'd never left the flat. Mad-Eye questioned her and got a similar answer: Patti couldn't remember anything about that evening. Mad-Eye cut her no slack whatsoever and placed her on probation for six months.
Kingsley felt fortunate not to be Mad-Eye Moody's favorite. He walked off the mission with a warning, and it got documented. It would lift in seven years' time. If he could wait out a couple more years, he'd be the good boy again with a clean record. It would almost be if that night, that whole fiasco, had never existed. Of course, this did not mean that neither Dawlish nor Mad-Eye wouldn't bring it up at their leisure.
Kingsley closed his briefcase and called it a night. He'd stayed way past five o'clock. They had handed him the Sirius Black case for practice. On the fifth anniversary of the Potters' murders, he felt an odd sense of responsibility. This was a cold case, dead and buried, and nothing would come of it. Although nobody came right out and said it, especially not good old John Dawlish, it meant Kingsley moved in the right direction. Everybody knew the facts of the case, of course, yet he opened the case file like reading a new book.
He jumped and spilled coffee over his papers when there was a knock on his cubicle wall. Kingsley immediately started siphoning the stuff off his papers and tossed a ruined paper in the wastebasket.
"Hello, my dear." Patti placed her hands in top of the cubicle and leaned over. They'd played husband and wife together numerous times over the last five years. Inventing new connections each time got a little wearing, so Mad-Eye suggested they stick to a pet name and remember the small stuff. That's exactly how he'd phrased it, too, "the small stuff". Around the office, for there was no denying it even though they'd messed up the first time that they were good at this role, they were known as work spouses.
"Oh, I caused that," said Patti apologetically, surveying the damage. "Sorry."
"Yes, you did." Kingsley got out of his chair and found napkins in a drawer. He wiped off his hands and threw those away. He locked his report in a drawer.
"What're we doing tomorrow night?" Patti took the tickets he offered her. She opened the contents of the envelope, mildly interested. Mad-Eye told them to live their own lives and spend the allowances provided by the Ministry wisely. This time, they were a wealthy Muggle couple. "iPhantom of the Opera/i. What 's that?"
"Not opera," he said unhelpfully. He handed her a classical paperback novel.
This had passed as his bedtime reading for the past two nights. When Kingsley when up against the beautiful Patricia Fetch, he knew to do his research before he showed up at her door. She made a face. "It's not that bad. It's a musical playing in the West End."
"You're one of those quiet bookworm types." She handed the book back to him after tucking the tickets inside it. "I think I like that. Those must've cost a fortune."
Kingsley slipped the small book inside his robes and started going through the maze of cubicles. He held the heavy oak doors open for her. "They're forged."
"Kingsley!" Patti laughed, leaning into him and placing her left hand on his chest. "Right when I think you're getting boring, you craft theater tickets off the black market."
"Or in my sitting room. I'm actually quite good at forging documents." He shrugged, surprised when she pecked him on the cheek. He stiffened when her husband walked down the corridor towards them.
"Afternoon," Jordan said.
Patti dropped her hand and stepped back. "Nate."
"You two are on assignment again?" Jordan handed Patti a rucksack.
"Yes, don't worry. I'll have her back by Sunday evening." Kingsley shook his hand in greeting. This, he'd learned long ago, was about as friendly as they got. They were not, Kingsley understood without asking, on a first-name basis. "Where's Lee?"
"He's waiting in the Atrium. I'll take that back." Mr. Jordan grabbed the rucksack and led them to the lifts. He sounded mildly interested in their assignments and seemed to enjoy their stories. He leaned against the back wall. "Who are you this time?"
"George and Abigail Thompson," said Kingsley, making a mental note to grab his suit from the Muggle dry cleaners in the East End. He knew Patti's measurements, which was a strange detail he'd picked up after playing career partners. "Do you want me to choose something?"
"Thank you." Patti bit her lower lip and took her husband's hand when the grilles opened into the Atrium. She went towards the Fountain of Magical Brethren. "Where is he, Nate?"
"I told him to wait there," said Jordan. He started calling for his son as people exited through the fireplaces. He started to worry after a few minutes. "He's always supposed to wait here. Lee!"
"You lost him? Nathan!" Patti, who started running around like a madwoman in the crowded area. "Who leaves a child? You know what he's like. He gets into everything. And you lost him!"
"I didn't lose him," said Jordan nervously.
"Where is my son, Nathan?" Patti shoved him.
"Patti, relax. Calm down." Kingsley had been scanning the scene, and he put himself between the couple. He spoke calmly and pointed at the security wizard's desk. Lee sat by Eric's desk, tying the sleeping man's shoelaces together. "There's your boy. He's bored."
Mr. Jordan and Patti rushed over and startled Eric, who dropped his edition of the iDaily Prophet/i. Jordan scooped up his son. Lee looked more disappointed that his work had been interrupted than anything else. He shouted, elated, when Eric got to his feet and toppled right over. Lee enjoyed his moment until Patti asked him if he was all right and promptly smacked him in the back the head.
"Ouch, Mum!" Lee hugged his father tightly.
"Don't you ever do that to me again. What the hell were you thinking?" Jordan started laughing clearly relieved to have his son back. He put Lee down and asked him to apologize to Eric.
Eric grinned. "Served me right for sleeping on duty, Nate, it's funny. God."
Jordan started towards the fireplace with Lee.
"Goodbye, Mum," the boy said.
"Goodbye, darling." Patti sat on the edge of the Fountain of Magical Brethren and buried her face in her hands. Kingsley watched them vanish in the emerald green flames before he went over to comfort her. When he sat down and took her shaking hand, Patti turned around and stroked his face. "I wish our relationship wasn't pretend."
"Patti." Kingsley spoke out of the side of his mouth, keeping an eye on the security wizard. "Not here."
She took his hand and led him over to the fireplaces. Kingsley went first. She'd been to his flat before to help him keep up on work files. A minute later, he reached out and helped Patti out of the fireplace. They came together, kissing passionately, hands caressing and stroking as they removed each other's clothing.
"The bathroom," Patti said when Kingsley lifted her into his arms. "I want to clean his touch from my skin."
"And our guilt?" Adultery was considered a grievous sin, whether a Catholic was
religious or not.
"I can live with that," Patti said, smiling as Kingsley carried her from the lounge.
After they made love until neither of them had the energy to go again, he lay in bed with her and listened to screeching Muggle children go down the street. He understood little about Halloween, though he had pieced it together. Patti, who had Muggle relatives, explained to him as she tied the house robe around her waist. Kingsley rubbed her long legs. They looked better than he'd imagined.
"What does this mean?" Kingsley sighed when she placed her hand on his chest.
"Kingsley, you never ask that question. You should know better. I'm not your first." Patti glared at him, daring him to contradict her. "I thought so."
"Patti, you're married." Kingsley sighed when she groaned and fell back on to the other side of the bed, clearly wanting to avoid this conversation. He refused to drop it. "You have a seven year old son and a clever husband. They love you."
"It's not a marriage. I've told you that."
"Patricia." He rolled over and stroked her face. "I love you, I do. But we can't be fooled by our own act. This is too comfortable."
"An act? You called out my name." Patti kissed him again, demanding this time. "Say it again."
Kingsley picked apart when he'd just said to her. "I love you, Patti."
"You love me. He never tells me that." Patti groaned again when he said he understood. "Do you? Nate is the best really is. He reads to Lee every night, and he tucks him in bed. And then he comes to bed and we'll talk. Maybe. Nate says good night, and he rolls over and goes to sleep. It starts all over again the next day."
"Does he prefer men to women?" Many "good" Catholic men married women to deny or hide their true sexual preference.
"I think he's asexual, not that he'll talk about it or go to counseling. He says he's content."
"You aren't."
"That doesn't matter to him. He knows I'm not leaving my family. I'm not getting a divorce."
Kingsley put his hands behind his head, trying to appear relaxed. "We can't broadcast our relationship. We'd lose our careers." He gave a snort of humorless laughter. "What if you get pregnant?"
"Seriously?" She punched him playfully in the arm. "I'm not that good a Catholic. I take birth control potion every three months to regulate my cycle."
She punched him again in the same exact spot, harder this time. "You know what's wrong with us?"
"We're Catholic? Patti!" It actually hurt when she hit him the third time
"Our timing is off. I'm going to Paris." She snuggled next to him. "Not for a holiday. I'm leaving for two years on assignment."
"What does your husband say? Do you know French? That could be a problem."
She answered him in French, though he had no idea what she'd said, so he took her word for it. Patti switched back to English; her voice sounded different. "Nate said go. He says it's a great opportunity. He's up for a promotion, too."
"Good. He'll be in England when I visit you."
Patti's face lit up as though she hadn't considered that he wanted more than a brief affair. "When I'm in London, I'll have to spend my time with Lee, so you coming to Paris is perfect." She kissed him and teasingly murmured love words in French.
Kingsley was reminded of their theater outing. "You know, i Phantom of the Opera/i was written by a French author: Gaston Leroux. I read an English translation, obviously."
"It took you two nights because you fell asleep reading it?" Patti snorted when he finally nodded. They fell asleep holding each other.
30 June 1995
Kingsley was closing his case on Sirius Black when Lee Jordan stormed into Auror Headquarters. Sirius had died twelve days ago, but Kingsley needed to clean this up for Fudge. Before he crashed and burned, which all saw coming, Kingsley thought he owed the man at least that much. Regardless if the last year had been a wild goose chase Kingsley himself created, he had poured years of work into the investigation. John Dawlish had signed off on the case years ago. So, all in all, Sirius had been his responsibility. Though it made no sense, he felt partially responsible for Sirius's death.
Getting ready to brief the Minister, Kingsley drummed his fingers on the case file. Some Aurors shouted at Lee as he came tearing into the office. Kingsley had never met the young man, although he knew that face. Lee Jordan shoved the Minister out of the way and clutched his side when he reached Kingsley.
"Get up." Lee slammed his fist on Kingsley's desk, upsetting a bottle of ink. "She won't stop crying and I don't know what to do. Get up now!"
Kingsley apologized to a flustered Fudge and stored the files in a drawer. As he ran with Lee, he gathered pieces of a confusing story. Patti complained of headache pains the night before, perhaps a migraine, and stayed in bed in the morning. Lee's father had stayed with her, but she got up later, thinking she felt better. Lee had an internship interview with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, so he came to work with her. She fell in the Atrium.
Kingsley pushed through the gathering crowd and dropped to his knees beside her. Jordan, panic-stricken, cradled his wife in his arms. Kingsley held Patti's face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. It was hard to tell because of the tears, but her eyes appeared glossed over like she'd suddenly aged years and become stricken with cataracts.
"Did you wipe her memory?" He shot at Jordan.
"Twice this morning." Jordan refused to look him in the eye.
"Today? Christ. Patricia. Look at me, lovely." Kingsley snapped his fingers in her face. She wasn't there. "A headache's nothing. Why would you touch her, Nathan?"
"We were arguing," said Jordan, getting to his feet.
Kingsley let that sink in. He remembered the night he'd met this man. She'd had the same glazed look. They'd been married for twenty years. What if he'd relied on this fix every time there was a serious argument? It wouldn't cause too much damage at first because the brain healed itself. Overtime, though, this old standby might do more harm than good. That's why she felt the same day in and day out. Kingsley prayed for patience as he turned back to Jordan for answers. Thank God Mad-Eye wasn't there; he'd murder this man where he stood.
Kingsley took a breath. "How many times?" Mr. Jordan glanced at the floor and asked for legal bastard asked for a lawyer.
"You're going to need one," said Kingsley harshly.
"Dad, what is he talking about?" Lee looked from Kingsley to his father and back again.
"How many times?" Kingsley took out his wand and pointed it at Jordan's chest. "Do you realize who this woman is? The security clearance she holds? She's your wife, Nathan!"
"I-I don't know. I didn't know."
"You're the Head of your department, for God's sake! You knew! Do you - do you have any idea of what you've done?" Kingsley raised his wand, and felt two men drag him back. He recognized both Mad-Eye and John Dawlish and lowered his wand. When the grilles to an empty lift opened, they thew him inside and joined him. Dawlish pressed the lift button and stalled its movement. "Let me out."
"No." Mad-Eye guarded the lift door. "This is not your fight."
"He's - did you hear him? He used Memory Charms on Patti!" Kingsley punched the wall and started shaking. Dawlish pointed his wand at him, though, he too, appeared angry beyond words. Kingsley sank onto the floor, trying to take calming breaths, and finally gave into uncontrollable sobs.
14 July 1995
When the Ministry decided to accept the truth, things happened in quick succession after the incident at the Department of Mysteries. Kingsley knew Rufus Scrimgeour would grab him for anything and everything. If he had been a younger man and this had been the First Wizarding War, Kingsley supposed he would have viewed this opportunity with more enthusiasm because he had nothing to lose. One of the advantages of the last war was it had undoubtedly skyrocketed his career. Kingsley got out of bed, careful not to wake a sleeping Patti beside him, and pulled on his house robe. He didn't know the time, though it was still pitch dark outside.
Kingsley glanced at the wedding band on his left hand. It was no longer a trinket or an accessory for a disguise. A week after her accident, Patti got released from St. Mungo's and he invited her to move in with him. He worried about her, and it was easier knowing she stayed right beside him. He hadn't married her out of pity. No, she had proposed to him as he helped her get dressed before leaving the hospital. It was a small thing, a ceremony held in the courtyard of St. Paul's Cathedral.
Kingsley took a quick shower simply to have something to do because his mind was awake. He never lie in bed when he couldn't go to sleep because this just made things worse. He'd been assigned as detail to the Prime Minister of the Muggles; Scrimgeour handed him this role without a moment of hesitation. Kingsley would act as the Prime Minister's secretary. People said he had a certain knack for dressing like a Muggle; the clothes and the disguises protected him once he forgot himself and took on the character. Patti taught him that.
Ever his faithful wife, Patti had been assigned as the head housemaid on Downing Street, and then demoted to a regular housemaid a day later when she made careless mistakes. Dishes got shattered and she fell while mopping the floors. Late last night, Scrimgeour asked her to resign from the Ministry. It had been a courtesy, he'd said, because Mad-Eye Moody had threatened Scrimgeour when he simply wanted to let her go, but Mad-Eye's angry words fell to deaf ears. You couldn't have a blind Auror.
Kingsley had seen this coming. Scrimgeour was right, of course. Kingsley had never seen Patti beg before. She had never been taken off an assignment without the opportunity for a second chance. Except for that one time at the beginning of her career, Patti had an impeccable record. It wasn't that Scrimgeour had let her go; it was the way he said it without the slightest remorse.
Kingsley took her home. Neither of them said a word as they ate dinner. He had been furious beyond words, and he still was, and she'd never been one to succumb to tears. He found a distraction. With the help of a leftover bottle of wine from the wedding ceremony, they made love until they couldn't think straight anymore. Patti, exhausted, finally rolled over and passed out. Kingsley slept uneasily until he gave up.
Patti. hearing him, patted the bed. "Come to bed."
"Patti." They had to talk about this. He cleared his throat and hesitated. "Scrimgeour."
"Shut up. Just shut up." Patti punched her pillow and rolled onto her side. There was a knock on the door, and they ignored it. "I gave him absolutely everything. Nate would've been nothing without me - I pushed him. Forget it. I don't want to talk about it - I'm going back to sleep."
Kingsley got to his feet and went to answer the door. It was Mad-Eye. "It's two-thirty."
"And you're not sleeping, so why does that matter?" Mad-Eye invited himself inside and plopped onto the couch.
Kingsley closed and locked the door. As Mad-Eye busied himself with what he called an early morning night cap; he drank from his hip flask. Kingsley paced the sitting room. When he shook his head declining a drink, Mad-Eye waved his gnarled hand at the empty wine bottle and wine glasses on he coffee table. Kingsley didn't remember everything from the night before. Looking at any bottle made him feel nauseated.
"Drowned your sorrows?" Mad-Eye waited for him to say something and nursed his drink. "It wasn't right."
"No." Kingsley always prided himself in being a loyal man. He stayed on the sidelines when it came to the law and politics, yet he always stood by his team, whether that was the Ministry or the Order. He gave a mirthless laugh. "Guess who I report to in four hours?"
Mad-Eye grunted, shifting his weight. "I'd hit him."
"I am done. I'll do whatever he asks of me, of course, but I am done playing the faithful dog. Scrimgeour could have handled Patti a thousand different ways. It isn't because she's my wife." Kingsley stood in front of the fireplace.
"It's because she's her. I know that." Mad-Eye took another swig from his hip flask. He was retired, and he no longer cared about the consequences. He threw his offer on the table. He conjured a clean glass and took his glass eye out to clean it. "I'll hit him for you."
"No, thank you," said Kingsley quietly, smiling for the first time that night. "He's going to be Minister."
Mad-Eye swirled his glass eye around with his gnarled finger, making himself at home. "There's a point there somewhere."
"Mad-Eye, you can't attack the Minister, though I certainly will not be putting my name down to guard the man." Kingsley, startled, followed Mad-Eye when he started hobbling upstairs. "Mad-Eye, it's early, she's sleeping."
Kingsley, stopped, shocked, when Mad-Eye slammed his, Kingsley's, own bedroom door in his face. He placed his hand on the doorknob and listened to an argument. Minutes later, still asleep, Patti walked out with Mad-Eye, who gripped her arm hard. Mad-Eye, breathing heavily, stopped at the landing when Patti asked him to leave her alone.
"Are we done now, Patricia? You are not some poor little bitch one hides in the corner." Mad-Eye. He let go of her arm.
"I'm not," she said, very quietly, looking over shoulder and seeing nothing but pitch black.
"I think you are," growled Mad-Eye. Patti couldn't even distinguish shades like some people; she saw pure darkness. She stepped back, missed a step, and grabbed for Mad-Eye, frightened, when she noticed the depth perception.
"No." Mad-Eye, his jaw set, stepped back towards the wall.
"Mad-Eye!" Kingsley watched, horrified, as Patti fell backwards, flailing around hopelessly, and landed at the foot of the stairs. It was carpeted. She grabbed her yellow house robe and lie there, temporarily lost for words. Kingsley went after her, but Mad-Eye pressed him against the wall and rushed down the stairs. "What the hell was that?"
Mad-Eye kept his eye on Patti. He stepped over her body and replaced his glass eye in its socket. He ignored her silent tears and crossed his arms as he approached her. The fall had scared her. "Kingsley, stay where you are. I've got this under control, thank you. Who are you, woman?"
Patti said nothing and wiped the tears from her useless eyes.
"That's one." Annoyed, Mad-Eye warned her and nudged her with his wooden leg. "I did not spend the better part of my career training some weeping, defenseless woman. He fired you. So what? You are more than that. Who are you?"
"Patti," she gasped, inhaling sharply.
Mad-Eye cupped a gnarled hand around his ear. "Come again? Get up."
"Patti Fetch." Shakily, she groped around for the bannister and clung to one of the posts to pulled herself awkwardly to her feet. She turned to sound of his voice, her tone stronger now. "I am Patricia Jolene Fetch Shacklebolt. You call me Faceless."
"Damn straight." Mad-Eye gave her his hand and locked her in a tight embrace. He patted her on the back. Kingsley thought he saw a tear in Mad-Eye's beaded eye. "I don't care if he's Minister for Magic. Last time I checked, Scrimgeour wasn't God. If he is, we're in trouble. You don't back down, you hear me?"
Patti nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. Kingsley came downstairs, thinking Mad-Eye was rather genius. The two shared a curt nod. Mad-Eye patted her hair and patiently waited for her to get it together. Finally, Mad-Eye released her and stood back, seemingly pleased with his good deed for the day. He clapped a hand on Kingsley's shoulder, opened the door and stepped out into the night.
14 May 1998
The damage, thankfully, had not been as bad as Kingsley had feared. She lost gaps of short-term memory and had trouble remembering random words. She also lost her sight because the optic nerve had been shredded to pieces. Nathan Jordan pleaded guilty to multiple charges and got sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. Before he left for prison, he granted Patti a divorce and signed over his retirement pension to her. That morning had been a freak accident - Nathan had been trying help her try to forget the physical pain and the arguments altogether. He'd lost control.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, he threw himself into the Ministry. He bought a home in London and hired staff to assist Patti with running the household. The other Order members supported him and became some of Patti's dearest friends. When he returned from meeting the Prime Minister, dressed in an expensive suit, Kingsley entered the sitting room. Patti sat by the open window and listened to the light rainfall.
"What did the Minister say?" She reached out for him.
"How did you know it was me?" he asked, walking over to her.
"Your - your walk. Please stop staring at me." Patti smiled. It took a moment for the words to click in her head.
"Why? You look beautiful. You're married to the Minister, lovely." Kingsley overlooked her hesitant speech; it was normal behavior these days. He laughed softly when she corrected that title as Acting Minister of Magic. "He wants to meet you. He remembers you served as his housemaid. You owe him a plate from his Queen Victoria china set. The one you shattered at the state dinner?"
"Really?" Her face fell. "I'm sorry. That's irreplaceable. That's a lot of money."
"No," said Kingsley, snickered, shaking with laughter. He kissed her passionately.
"A blind former housemaid. That's nice." Patti grabbed her walking stick and got slowly to her feet. She wore a set of midnight blue dress robes and let him handle the zipper. Kingsley pressed his lips to her bare shoulder before he finished the clasp. She felt his face when he turned to her. She kissed him softly. "I'm proud of you, dear. I love you."
"Thank you. I love you, too, Patti." Kingsley offered her his arm.
When they entered the sitting room, Kingsley nodded to Harry Potter, who stood guard by the door with Kyle Williamson. Patti shook hands with both of them and patted Harry on the arm. Williamson rushed to get the door and handed Kingsley a black umbrella. As he had been trained by Patti personally, he had asked to be assigned to her detail. Patti missed Williamson's salute, but Kingsley caught it. As he opened the umbrella and held it above them, Kingsley stepped outside with his wife and greeted the flashing cameras and waiting crowd. He took a deep breath, stopped on the second step, and started with the first sentence of a practiced speech.
It was the first day.