Eight seconds they had remained in silence, eight seconds looking from each other's faces to the floor. She had met him at last.
Fred.
"What...shall we tell her when she comes back," he ventured meekly.
"You'll tell her I asked you some questions concerning the investigation. And that we were old schoolmates in England. That's the truth," Angelina said dully, letting her gaze settle on the doorway.
She had spent a week in Midnight Cove before querying a little boy who was selling a pair of Extendable Ears crammed in alongside an array ordinary-looking muggle beauty products. This would be Fred's version of advertising. But a secret intuition had remained with her since the accident. She was merely at the place in her life in which she could confront that terrible, crushing doubt.
"It won't mean anything now, but I've missed you every day that I've been here."
Not looking away from the door, she said slowly, "Do you have plans to return to England?"
"Not as yet."
Grudgingly Angelina removed some parchment and a quill from her pocket and began writing.
"You vanished the 7th of October three years ago. You used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to escape the scene, and allowed a doppelganger to take your place at St. Mungo's. This person was part of a powerful cult of dark wizards given to disposing the bodies of unloyal members by installing them at St. Mungo's after they'd received the Dementor's Kiss. You were given a new identity to resettle in Midnight Cove. You have been running this magical storefront by night, while your wife runs the restaurant upstairs by day."
"She's not my wife."
Angelina kept writing. "You have had no contact with your family or friends since that night. Is there anything else I should add?"
"I still love you."
Unreacting, Angelina strode to door, opened it and peered upstairs. "It looks like she's still cleaning up."
Fred lay hunched over his goblet of wine, which he finally placed, almost emptied, next to Angelina's full goblet of water. Now that he had her in front of him, he longed to settle her into arms and bury his face in her hair, like the old days. When she was his Angie.
"I didn't know what I was doing then. It was a confusing and stressful time. I've changed a lot."
She turned around then, and looked him in the eyes, finally allowing herself to speak the words.
"Do you have any children?"
"No."
"What's this place like? What do you do all day?"
"I've done some paintings. Just bangs and dots up close, but from a certain distance it transforms into a person or a scene. Muggle style of painting called pointillism. I have enchanted the painting so that it takes on the mood of the beholder. So this otherwise bare seascape - he gestured towards the painting above the mantelpiece - reflects what you are feeling inside."
Angelina ventured a gaze at the image, which she hadn't noticed before Fred had pointed it out. Rollicking grey-tinged waves moved a small but sturdy looking ship along the water. The morning fog hung low and thin, alternately blurring and revealing parts of the scene. The ship itself had its windows alight, but no occupants were visible. The depths of the sea below seemed to shimmer with the light of the breaking sun.
Inhaling audibly, she hardly realized that he was behind her.
"What do you see? You'll have to describe it to me, because I can only see my own perspective."
His body was emanated a comforting, enveloping warmth, so familiar and yet it had been so far away in her memory it felt like something out of dream. Reveling in their shared heat but not inclining into him, this man who had abandoned her, she drew another slow breath.
"I see a ship - it's me. There are lights in the ship but I can't see any people. The waves are quite active, but the vessel is staying the course. It's morning, and the light coming off the waves is beautiful."
"You're a ship staying the course, huh Angie?" Fred didn't bother to smother a chuckle. "Spot on, innit?"
Knowing exactly what she was doing, she took a step backward and felt the warm expanse of his chest across her back. His wiry arms quickly wrapped around her waist, his face already buried in her neck. She closed her eyes and kept her hands at sides, feeling him hold her figure fast. He smelled of fresh air and soap. The heat radiating from the fireplace suddenly intensified, causing her to back away press into him more forcefully.
"Merlin, even your hair still smells the same. Gorgeous."
Angelina had not yet opened her eyes, but let her head fall back, relaxing into Fred's possessive hold. His wet mouth nipping at her ear, but she could emotion strangle his voice.
"I've never been good enough Angie. You and I both know that. I thought I would come here and make something of myself, then come back a big success. Somebody who could take of you. Not just someone who cracks wise and is utterly cynical about his future. As soon as I came here I knew I was wrong. I slid into this depression. It felt like you were taken from me, even though I was the one who left. I lost the will to come back. I imagined you had kids and all that now. That I was just someone who let you down a long time ago. I reckoned you would have hated me if I turned up on your doorstep."
Angelina's eyelids opened slowly. She gently removed his hands from her waist. Turning her formidable brown-eyed gaze to his cornflower-blue stare, she told him the hard truth.
"Fred, that's crap. You know we could have worked something out. That I would come round. You can't appreciate what I feel for you, the loyalty, the sense of obligation, yes, obligation. Because you were my man. Mine." Her laugh was short and bitter. "In all the time we've known each other I've never blamed you for anything. Anything you wanted to do, I would have supported. Look at us now. Don't you think I went through something awful when you left? Would it surprise you to know I did exactly the same as you? I rotted away in London, then I took the world's shabbiest vacation to Italy. And you know what? I don't even have any romantic paintings to show for it!"
She was shouting now. She closed her eyes again and took a seat at the table. Putting her face in her hands, she spoke in murmurs through her fingers.
"What'd you see in the painting, Fred?" Her voice was so low now she wasn't sure he could hear her.
Finally she heard him settle beside her, draping an arm lightly across her back. She felt him lay his head on her shoulder.
"What do I see, Ang? A tiny little sailboat in the middle of the water, and not a wave in sight. It must be night. There are stars, and a great hanging crescent moon in the corner. I can see someone in the boat, but he's hiding his face."
"Is he waiting for something," Angelina murmured, still through her fingers.
"I think he was waiting for the wind pick up at one point. And then sometime after that he just started feeling sorry for himself. Maybe he was waiting for it all to be over."
Her eyes opened again. She lifted his head, and pressed her lips against his forehead.
"I know how he feels."
