Notes:

Tom will not be in this chapter, nor will he be in the next.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Part Three

The first few months Elena looked over her shoulder constantly, sure that Tom Riddle was about to appear. Every pop of apparition, every time she opened her door, she expected him. She'd put in her notice at work almost immediately after the funeral and had cut off any correspondence with Tom's Death Eaters. She had enough savings that she could spend most of her time reading, holed away in her apartment and ignoring the world.

Something changed in December. She was walking toward her apartment when she heard something odd. It was a soft, high-pitched, pathetic sound and she cast Lumos to peek into the shadows of the little back alley. Beneath cardboard and hidden in weeds that had somehow managed to sprout was a fuzzy, squirming ball of kitten. She could hold it in one hand easily.

With the ears close to its head and the way it nosed in the dirt it reminded her of an otter. She glanced around for the mother cat but saw nothing.

Elena had heard once that mother cats sometimes moved their babies or left them in places only to come back later, and one should never move a kitten without knowing it was truly abandoned. With that in mind, she cast an alert to let her know whether it came back and then enchanted the cardboard scrap to keep the little thing warm just in case.

She couldn't sleep that night, thinking about the little thing all alone out there. In the dark hours of the morning she crawled out of bed and down to the alley. No mama cats had come to claim the squirming creature, so she pulled it to her chest and went back to her bedroom.

It was a boy, she found out upon taking it to Magical Menagerie. The owner assisted in getting what she'd need for him and gave her instructions. She would have to wake up throughout the night to feed him, keep him warm before he couldn't create his own heat yet. His bleary little eyes would stare up into her own myopically as she fed, bathed, carried him.

She did the latter a surprising amount, magically altering an apron so she could wear him close to her body. When Albus Dumbledore joined her for tea one morning he was pleasantly surprised when a tiny furry head popped out of her clothing.

"And who is this?" the wizard asked, leaning in to scratch the kitten's head gently.

"Otter. I found him about a week ago." She smiled down at the little creature. "His mother left him, so I took him in."

Albus nodded. "A perfect fit then. Have you thought about what you want to do next, Elena?"

She kept herself calm by stroking the small ball of fluff until he was purring happily against her. "I don't know. I'll need work soon, but I can't go back to where I was. They'll all ask questions about Tom and…"

"I own a lovely little cottage near Portree, you know. It's all one room with an adjoining bath, but large enough for one young woman and her cat," he said speculatively.

"I couldn't—"

"I know you don't feel safe here, Elena. The cottage is sitting there growing cobwebs and dust. There are enough wizarding folk there for you not to feel alone, but you'll have space as well." Albus's eyes were warm as he said, "If you feel you must work, they are in need of a basic potioneer."

"Professor—"

"Albus, dear. You are no longer my student. I'd like to think perhaps we are becoming friends."

She frowned. "I suppose we are. Albus, then. Are you sure? I'm hardly a Potions Mistress."

"You received an Outstanding on your Potions NEWT," he insisted. "They don't need a master, just someone to brew a basic supply so they don't have to waste their time and space on it."

She capitulated of course. Within a week, she and Otter had left the little flat above the apothecary and moved to Scotland. The cottage was perhaps the same size as the place she'd vacated, albeit with a more open floorplan. One front corner was the kitchen, one the sitting area. The back corner was devoted to her small sleeping space and the multitude of bookshelves. It was perfectly serviceable for her needs and Otter was delighted to explore a new floor on his tottering little legs.

The first year was spent getting the place in shape. She eventually painted the outside butter yellow with blue trim. It looked rather homey. Albus helped her put up a small shack for her brewing that was blue with yellow trim. They planted flowers beneath the windows, and she made a little stone path up to her house and between it and the brewing shack. She was in the woods proper, but only a small walk from the tree line. Within a few months all the wizarding folk knew where they could go for their potion needs.

She got rid of her love seat but kept her cushioned chair and added another to it, little side table between them. It was all she needed, as her only true company was Albus. She built shelves into the wall for Otter to climb up and down. He did a wonderful job of keeping rodents and insects away once he had grown large enough. He was a fearsome hunter, though he still insisted on her carrying him like an infant at times. Life was peaceful.

"What's an Irish girl doing selling potions in Scotland anyway?" said the man who'd come to her door only ten minutes before. His name was Donal McKay and he was a decade her senior, though in the wizarding world, the difference between thirty and forty wasn't much of a stretch. He was a widower according to the village gossip, new to their little community. He'd made his first visit to her with a squalling newborn in his arms, and Elena had been somewhat enamored ever since.

"After Hogwarts, I wasn't sure where to go. A friend offered a home here, so I came."

"A friend?" he looked around evergreen eyes wide at his faux search. "And where is the friend now?"

She laughed upon realizing what he was implying. "He isn't that sort of friend. I don't have one of those."

"Why? You're pretty and kind and obviously smart." Elena realized he was flirting with her and shook her head.

"Three bottles of Dreamless Sleep, right?" She busied herself by glancing over the wall of potions in front of her. "For dosage reasons I'll need to know the patient."

When she glanced over her shoulder it was to see him brushing a hand through hair brown with age, the color that blonde children sometimes grew into, hints of grey only now gracing his curls. "My middle one, Andrew. He has night terrors, usually three or four at a time and then they settle down. This cycles through every month, so I like to keep a little in case it happens unexpectedly."

"How old is he?"

"Seven and a might on the small side."

Elena set the bottles on the counter. "You'll want to give him three drops then. With warm milk is always nice. It tastes better that way and soothes something inside."

He studied her face, those eyes bright in his tanned face. "You sound like you know."

She shrugged. "That's a galleon apiece."

Donal slid the coins to her and rubbed at the stubble along his jaw. "Would you like to come for a drink with me some time?"

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes." He grinned and it was a nice one. His face was rather ordinary other than a nose that had been broken at least once, but when he smiled it lit up his eyes and broadened his mouth pleasantly.

"I can't, sorry," she said, hastily looking away she slid the coins into her little money pouch.

He sounded like he was frowning when he spoke again. "I thought you didn't have anyone?"

"I don't."

"Then why—"

"I just can't," she said firmly.

Donal left reluctantly and Elena spent the rest of the day curled up with Otter.

The next time Albus visited, Donal came as well. She had just put on tea for the headmaster when there was a knock on her door. "Sorry, Albus, someone must need a potion."

He nodded and smiled at her, a gentle shooing encouraging her toward her door. When she opened it and saw Donal standing there with a smile on his face and a bag in hand, she didn't know what to say.

"I brought you some strawberries from my garden," the man said, holding out the paper sack. "I hope you don't mind. I noticed you haven't much in the way of vegetables or fruit in your own garden."

"Oh." She took the bag absently and looked between him and Albus. "Er, thank you. What—did you need something?"

"I'm sorry," he responded. "Did I interrupt—"

"Who is this striking young man?" came the booming interruption of Albus Dumbledore. He'd stood to take the bag from Elena and set it on the table. "Albus Dumbledore, pleasure to meet you, Mister?"

"Dumbledore?" Donal repeated. "The Albus Dumbledore. The pleasure is all mine, sir. Donal McKay."

The kettle chose that moment to whistle and she excused herself to deal with the tea; before she knew what had happened, Albus had conjured another chair and he and Donal were sitting and chatting. She sighed and pulled down a third cup.

"Tell me about your children," Albus said.

"The oldest is Janie; she's ten and thrilled to go to Hogwarts next year. I think she might be a Ravenclaw with how she devours books." Donal was smiling fondly as he spoke about his little ones. "Andrew is seven. He's a sweet boy, smart as can be, but shy. And then Daniella is only three. If Andy is shy, she'd downright reclusive. She won't talk to anyone but three of us and barely that, though she is a cuddler and will insist on being read to sleep every night."

"I look forward to seeing Janie next year," said Albus. "It hasn't been long then, losing your wife?"

"No, but it was a long time coming. She was always a frail woman and after Daniella was born…" he trailed off, shrugging. "I miss her of course, but I'm at peace with it now."

Albus followed his gaze to Elena. "And you still have a long life ahead of you."

"Yes, well. I've asked out Miss Mullens here a few times, but she keeps turning me down."

Elena was uncomfortable under their scrutiny. "I have some personal issues I need to resolve," she said at last.

"Something from your mysterious past?" Donal asked.

"Yes."

"Alright then," he said. "I'll wait." Donal stood. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Headmaster Dumbledore. Elena, I'll see you soon. Enjoy the strawberries."

Once he'd left, Elena loosed a sigh.

"Would it be the worst thing?" Albus said at last. "To have a few dates with the widower?"

"I can't marry, so what would be the point?" she asked.

"To have someone, Elena."

"If Tom found out…" she shook her head. "I can't risk that."

"Elena, no one has heard anything about Tom in three years. Perhaps give the man a chance. Don't marry him then, but don't spend your life alone." He laid one of his aged hands over hers. "A life without love is not what your father would have wanted for you."

"I'll think about it."