9
HOPE blinked, as the comforting feeling of warmth greeted the young brunette Muggle as she slowly returned to consciousness and the land of the living.
She blinked her lids again, forcefully at first, struggling to free her eyelashes from the crusted 'sleep' that had accumulated.
Hope didn't know how long she'd been asleep for, for the crusted mess did not want to so easily be removed, and Hope was forced to scrub away the rest of the gunk with the heel of her hand.
Hope let out a hiss of pain as she realized it was the hand that she'd used to try to fend off her would-be attacker.
She gritted her teeth as she waited impatiently for the pain to subside. Her brow furrowed as she slowly sat up against the mountain of pillows, her coverings a mixture of goose feather down blankets, woolen blankets, and even Lyall's heavy brown coat.
She opened her mouth to voice her concern at not knowing where she was, where Lupin had brought her, and yet found her throat terribly parched, rendering her mute for the time being until she could get a drink of water.
Hope let out a tired sigh and collapsed her head back against the pillows her back rested behind, thinking that, if anything, the blankets must be a sign that she was safe and the fact that she had Lyall's jacket back. She doubted the man who had attempted to do such unspeakable things to her back in those woods, if he had, in fact, kidnapped her, as Hope briefly feared, would have gone out of his way to ensure she was comfortable.
Hope swallowed down thickly past the lump in her throat as flashes of her memories flitted through the forefront of her mind, as if she were watching random images on a television.
Visions of both of those bad men's faces, what either one of them would have done to her were it not for Lyall arriving when he did and that other bloke with the strange blue coat with the coattails.
The memories interrupted her brief moment of tranquility as she sat up straight in the bed, the mountain of pillows tucked behind her head resting against the wooden headboard, thrusting the young woman back under the clutches of a hairy, clawed hand with long, blackened dirtied fingernails and piercing pale blue eyes.
Hope released a less than dignified whimper from the back of her throat and buried her face in her hands, hating the constrictive feeling of her throat hollowing. The awful swarm of memories buzzing and flitting around in her mind like a hive passed within mere moments, leaving poor Hope Howell breathless and utterly exhausted. Although conscious, her sense of awareness and where she was had dimmed to almost nothing, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but what had happened to her.
Hope slowly inhaled, holding it for a long moment, savoring it, allowing the smell of the fire crackling in the fireplace—who had a fireplace in their bedroom, for God's sake?
Hope was quite certain she'd never seen anything like it before. A most peculiar sight.
She furrowed her brows, casting a wary glance towards the lit fire in the hearth as the logs crackled and popped, the smell of pinewood and oak assaulting her flaring nostrils.
Then her mind sprung forward and the little unfamiliar bedroom around her came rushing up to meet her now that she was aware.
If she strained her ears to hear, Hope swore she could hear the distant echoing of water-logged voices, men's voices, arguing, just beyond the closed bedroom door.
She fell silent and slowed her breathing to almost a standstill, catching only snippets of the conversation.
Her spirits lifted greatly as she swore she could recognize Lyall's quiet and reserved tone, though in the moment, the man sounded angrier than she had ever heard him thus far in their short acquaintance tonight.
"…twenty Galleons, Newt, it's all I have, but won't you and your wife please take it?" came a man's quiet, shy tone. "It's the least you and Tina can do for me for letting Hope stay here for the weekend to recover. I don't want to send her alone to go back home if that stranger from the woods is after her. Plus, the murders that have been going on here…I'd be willing to bet my life's savings it's a wizard's work. The signs are all there, Newt, there's no evidence. For all we know, the man that attacked Miss Howell in the woods tonight is the one who could be behind them. He needs to be found and brought in for questioning, Mr. Scamander."
His voice faded away as he trailed off and did not bother to finish whatever thought was ailing his mind.
The anger and indignation in Lupin's quiet, somewhat shy voice gave her a weak warm feeling in the bottom of her stomach, and her dark brown eyes widened in awe.
Wizard? Did he just say...wizard?! Hope pursed her lips into a thin, rigid, and unmovable line as her mind struggled to process the snippet of conversation she'd just eavesdropped on accidentally. As in…a magical wizard? What is going on?! First, the man back in the woods was spouting this nonsense, and now it's Lyall!
Her heart sank as she realized she was forced to come to the possible conclusion that perhaps Mr. Lupin was touched. She released the breath she had been holding, slowly, she felt a great deal of tension leave her shoulders. Again. So concentrated on this was Hope that she did not allow herself to hear whatever the other strange man, Newt, said to Lyall by way of response.
For now, all that mattered was calming down her breathing back to normal.
Good, she thought encouragingly to herself. Breathe. Just breathe. Don't let yourself lose control again, Hope. If there was one thing Hope knew for certain, it was that it was much too soon for her to revisit those fresh, terrible memories in her mind.
If she were to allow herself to, the only thing she would succeed in doing is sending herself into a panic and she could not afford that.
Not right now, she thought, closing her eyes.
But then again, if not now, then when? When would she be able to confront her fears of what had almost happened to her, twice in one night, by two incredibly different, and equally intimidating, hulking strangers?
She felt like she was utterly drowning in it, choking to death on just the sheer powerful memories of their faces.
Hope was breaking, cracked, and taped together at the edges. Well, that metaphorical tape was now unraveling, and there was no preventing it from happening to her.
So, with great reluctance, and perhaps even shame, Hope allowed her mind to just…collapse in on itself.
With each horrible memory of the taxing events of this evening, each sound, visual remembrance that flitted so fleetingly through the darkest recesses of her tormented mind, heart, and even to a lesser extent, her very soul, Hope spiraled in and out of control, like a torpid whirlwind.
The horrible bout of silence that now filled this strange little bedroom covered with an assortment of knickknacks on the shelves that littered the walls, the likes of which Hope had never seen such objects before, filled her with such a horrible anguish, she wanted nothing more than to throw back her head and scream!
She felt sure that Lyall Lupin would hate her now, for having to save her twice in the span of a single night, and now, to make matters even worse, it sounded as though she had inadvertently gotten one of his friends, or perhaps a colleague from work, whatever job he held, involved in her unorthodox rescue.
Even now, in her mind, a vision of Lyall's handsome face permeated her thoughts, though now, instead of seeing his kind white smile, the way his one dimple at the left side of his mouth crinkled, or how his hazel eyes had seemed to twinkle whenever he looked at her, the phantasm her troubled mind had created, his face now scowled at her with a horrible bitterness and resentment.
Lyall was sure to despise her, resent her, even blame her for having to save her life and trouble himself! Oh, could this night possibly get any worse for her?!
Hopefully not. A knock, a light rapping of knuckles on the door startled Hope out of her dark swirling vortex of thoughts, and her head whiplashed sharply upward, a startled cry upon her lips as the door opened gently, and there stood Lyall in the entryway, looking worried, but cautiously optimistic, looking relieved to see that Hope was awake.
"Miss Howell. I'm…relieved to see that you are awake, hello again," Lyall muttered, forcing a small smile, though it was strained, as he took a few more cautious steps into the room, glancing nervously about the room this way and that, seeming to be nervous about the idea of offending her in any way.
In his hands, he carried a heavily laden supper tray, with what looked to be a steaming cup of freshly made hot soup and a few slices of hot freshly buttered toast.
The smile on Lupin's face was admittedly strained, showing the tightness around his light hazel eyes, and yet, it was a smile of relief and possibly the beginnings of affection, nonetheless.
The fire from the fireplace behind him that he now stood in front of flickered and danced, casting odd shadows about the room in unequal distribution, for a moment, bathing his face in the darkness, rendering it difficult for Hope to make out his expression, though the moment he stepped forward and into the light more, she could better see Lyall's face.
Hope opened her mouth to speak, yet it felt as though there were a gag on her mouth, for her tongue felt thick in her mouth, the words clinging to the inside of her throat, unwilling to come forth and tell Lyall how sorry she was that he'd have to save her, and his friend, besides.
The edges of her vision blurred and stung with a fresh bought of tears, spilling from her lids and down her pale, bruised cheeks in an unrelenting stream that showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.
She had no room left within herself for false facades of strength, nor the ability to maintain what she considered her cherry disposition.
Hope swallowed thickly down past the constricting lump in her throat and managed to somehow, by a miracle of God, find her voice.
"Will you…sit with me? I…I don't want to be alone right now, Lyall. Please?" she begged, biting down on her bottom lip, falling silent.
Her voice sounded incredibly small and meek, not to mention hoarse from lack of water, but she was relieved when Lyall quickly nodded his agreement, pulling up a wooden chair that had been sitting idly in a far corner of the room, wincing as the legs of the chair scraped rather noisily across the polished hardwood floors of the room.
For the longest time, as Lyall got himself situated, setting the tray of food he'd brought with him onto a small wooden night table next to the right of the bed Hope was resting in, nothing was spoken between the pair of them, and Hope wondered if perhaps she had offended Lyall with her unusual request, but she had spoken the truth.
She did not want to be alone right now. It was then that another thought occurred to her as she looked towards Lyall, who continued to cast her apprehensive glances, as though afraid of another meltdown. She furrowed her brows into a slight frown.
But where on earth was this Newt character who had also assisted in saving her life tonight? Where was that man? Was he here?
"Wh…where am I, Lyall?" Hope breathed, glancing out the admittedly strange bedroom as she sniffed once or twice, the last of her tears now thankfully spent…for now.
The moment Lyall opened his lips to speak, Hope fully expected to hear the man's soft, pleasant voice again, though a new voice rent the otherwise silent air in the bedroom, coming directly from the open door's entryway.
"You're in my home, Miss Howell," came an old man's slightly warbling but still pleasant enough voice, also soft.
Hope's eyes widened as she took a good long look at her other savior. He appeared to be a man in his early to mid-sixties, but still quite agile from what Hope could tell. Dressed in a simple pair of grey trousers and a sweater vest, Hope was almost disappointed to see the man was not wearing that bright blue coat from earlier. Experience danced upon the man's thin lips like a curious child as the man stepped rather spryly into the room, though Hope noticed he pulled a face once or twice at the stiffness in his joints, perhaps the beginnings of arthritis or lumbago at his age, if Hope had to guess.
The man let out a haggard sigh, feeling a vein twitch in his brow as he carded his fingers through his thick, surprisingly luscious tuft of short-cropped white hair that was rather disheveled, curling at the ends, and looked to have a mind of its own that no comb could ever tame.
"If you would rather stay somewhere else, Miss Howell, I am sure that Mr. Lupin here would be more than happy to make those arrangements for you," the man spoke up.
Hope's eyes widened as she abruptly shook her head. What could have possibly given this fellow the idea that she did not like it here, that she was not at all grateful?
"No, no, th—that's all right, sir. I…thank you, for saving my life tonight, sir. You must be, ah, Newt?"
She watched, interestedly, as the man seemed to give a start upon Hope uttering his first name, though the aging man quickly recovered and pulled up a chair to situate himself at a comfortable enough distance from the bed, enough to give Hope and Lyall their space, but still, nevertheless, it looked as though he wished to talk to her.
"I am. Newt Scamander, at your service, Miss Howell," the old man mumbled, smoothing his white bangs back away from his forehead. He glanced towards Lyall, seemingly for confirmation, who nodded. "And you are Miss Hope Howell, would I be correct in saying that?"
Hope nodded, swallowing hard as she struggled to gauge the older man's reaction. There was no hint of ill will or malice that she could detect in the man's eyes.
Hope looked around the room, searching for something, anything, that she could use to start a conversation with.
"You, ah, have a lovely home, sir."
His lined and slightly red, weather-beaten face brightened at her words, and Hope could tell the compliment had cheered the aging bloke up a bit.
If judging by the way Newt sat up straighter in his chair was any indication and Hope barely repressed her tiny smile of satisfaction at how Lyall was looking pleased.
Pleased, she thought, that Hope had the good graces enough to pay respect towards the man who'd helped Lyall save her life tonight from that stranger in the woods and now was giving her a room in his home.
"Thank you," Newt answered in a polite, courteous tone. "Most of the decorations are my wife, Tina's, who I hope you'll meet in a little while if you're feeling up to receiving visitors once you've eaten a little something."
Newt let out a light little chuckle as he rested his cheek in his right fist, leaning forward a bit in his chair.
Though, as Hope frowned slightly, she found he was not looking at her, per se, but rather, over at Lyall. Intrigued and finding her curiosity piqued at the old man's shift in countenance, Hope swiveled her gaze and looked at Lyall, turning her head just slightly, to find the man was staring at her, a dazed expression on his face.
Hope shoved her knuckles in her mouth to silence the little giggle that threatened to escape her lips as she swore a light pink blush speckled along Lyall's cheeks, before he looked away, turning his head to the side to cough, though she knew he needed a moment to recover.
"I—it's good to see you're all right, Hope," Lyall said, turning his gaze back around to regard Hope, and Hope found her eyes softening at this upon hearing his words.
"I am, thanks to you," Hope whispered, shooting him a shy smile that had rendered Lyall Lupin quite speechless.
I am, thanks to you. Hope's words reverberated in his mind. Lyall found his whole body seizing up and tensing the moment the words were out of Hope Howell's mouth.
It felt as though he had lost all sense of self. She was…thanking him…for saving her life when any other man with a good head of sense on his shoulders would have done the exact same thing that he and Newt had.
So engrossed in his staring of the beautiful young Muggle woman who had almost effortlessly captured his attentions tonight in just the span of an hour or two, that he hardly noticed Newt rising from his chair, mumbling something about giving the two of them a moment, before promising Hope he'd send his wife, Tina, in to meet with Hope and provide her with another friendly face in the hopes of cheering her up after the horrible night she'd had.
"Are you hungry, Hope?" Lyall asked after quite a long time of nothing being said between the two of them.
Lyall almost found himself stammering out an apology, cursing himself inwardly for being so nervous around this young woman, but he held his tongue and instead waited for her answer. It didn't take long for it.
"I am, actually," Hope whispered, glancing down at her bandaged hands resting in her lap, not realizing she'd clutched onto fistfuls of the thick woolen blanket in the process. Embarrassment was evident in her kind voice.
"Here, there's a tray that Newt's wife made for you. Tina, she—she didn't know what you'd might like, so she settled for a chicken broth and some bread. I hope that's okay," Lyall said, reaching across his chair to handle the tray and settle it delicately on Hope's lap, but not before propping up and fluffing her pillows to better support her back.
"Thank you," she said steadily, lifting her gaze to meet Lupin's. "I'll be sure to thank Mr. ah, Scamander's wife, too. What kind of a name is that?" Hope muttered under her breath as she reached for the spoon to take a bite of soup, wincing at how hot it was, but finding it delicious, nonetheless. "Scamander," she murmured, letting the man's surname roll off her tongue as her brows furrowed. "Is it foreign? It doesn't sound like any name I've ever heard," she wondered out loud, looking at him.
Lyall felt his face pale in shock as he pondered how to explain away the wizarding world's rather unique quirk of wizarding families providing their children with unusual names that would no doubt raise some eyebrows among those in the Muggle community, just as it had done to Hope, it would seem, judging by her expression.
"Ah, n—no," he stammered, feeling as though his blush were intensifying, at a loss for how to explain Newt's name, and his for that matter. He doubted there were few Muggle families in all of Great Britain with the surname of 'Lupin.' "Mr. Scamander has lived in Great Britain for years. He's a colleague of mine at work and a dear friend."
Hope nodded, satisfied with his answer for now, though she frowned as she glanced down at the heavily laden supper tray resting on her lap, thinking it was entirely too much food for her to eat in one sitting now.
"Aren't you going to eat too, Mr. Lupin? Surely, after everything you've done for me tonight, you're starved."
Lupin's brow furrowed in a frown as his mind processed her words. He wasn't used to a young woman asking him to eat with her, much less while she healed.
"D—don't worry about me, Hope. I'm fine. Really. The food there, all of it is for you. You need to regain your strength, and the best way for you to do that is to eat."
The young brunette blinked owlishly at the tray on her lap, looking surprised at the amount of food she'd been given.
"But I couldn't possibly eat all of this, Lyall, it's entirely too much. Won't you take just a little bit of it?"
Lyall shook his head no, not wanting to let her push even an ounce of food that would serve her better than him onto him.
"I—I'm not hungry, Hope, but thank you," he quickly replied. And if he was being honest with himself, he really truly wasn't.
His stomach was so twisted into churning knots at the moment at relief at finding Hope relatively unharmed and now safe in a secure location, and at being in such close proximity to a beautiful young woman that was steadfast in holding such a grip over his heart, that she wasn't even aware.
Lupin was still in awe of everything that had happened to him, and to her tonight. The night had started out so relatively ordinary, with his search in the Welsh forest for the boggart that had been plaguing that particular wood. How the series of events that had unfolded had led him directly in the path of this Muggle woman, and he found himself also in awe of her. Of Miss Howell.
Now that he was in an even closer, intimate proximity to the young brunette woman than he had been before, back in the forest, Lyall could finally catch a better glimpse of Hope Howell's dark brown eyes that almost matched the rich dark chocolate tones of her wavy hair.
They were beyond anything he could have ever imagined seeing in a young woman, Muggle or otherwise. Her eyes were bright…so full of hope, life, untapped potential, and promise. It was truly unlike anything Lyall had ever seen before.
The way she looked around with curiosity and wonderment in her dark brown eyes at the knickknacks that littered the wooden shelves of the room, souvenirs from Newt Scamander's travels in his youth, the way she focused, Lyall found he didn't even have to look that hard to be able to pick up how intelligent she was.
How smart he knew Hope to be. A beauty. An adorable little pout formed on her lips as she stuck out her bottom lip and bit down at his refusal to partake in some of the food Tina Scamander had prepared for her and once more, Lyall did not fight against the strange warmth welling in his chest, coupled with the strong desire not to leave this woman's side.
After all, he had done that once already tonight, with disastrous consequences. He never should have left Miss Howell alone to fend for herself, not even for five minutes.
With a little sigh, she finally gave up on her attempts to convince Lyall to take some of the food and collapsed her head back against the pile of pillows.
"Well, if you're sure," she grumbled in a defeated tone, leaving Lupin to watch in silence as Hope tore off a chunk of the buttered bread loaf and proceeded to dunk it into the chicken broth and began to eat, though it seemed with little enthusiasm.
He hoped he had not put her off her appetite by refusing to take any of the food.
Lyall decided for now to let her be and eat in silence, wanting her to get back her strength, even though he secretly still wanted to continue talking with Hope.
But for his part in all of this, it wasn't really like Lyall was carrying much of the conversation, however.
Any time he parted his lips open to speak in the effort to say something to Miss Howell, his mouth ran dry, his tongue felt thick, and his thoughts in his mind scatterbrained.
He longed to ask her if perhaps on Monday, when she returned to whatever job she held, or anytime next week, really, if she were feeling up to it, if she would like to join him for lunch. He could even pick her up from work, but Lyall lacked the courage to be so bold.
Which is why he was thrown off his guard and surprised when the sweet, soft, shy susurrations of Hope Howell's voice reached his throbbing eardrums once more, shattering the almost deafening silence, obviously still interested in someone like him, the likes of which Lupin could not begin to understand.
He was no one special, no one of real significance. His job managing Non- Spirituous Apparitions at the Ministry kept him busy. He didn't exactly have a wide social network of friends. Work colleagues, yes, but friends? Not so much.
He would go as far as to say that as of right now at the ripe age of thirty, his friends consisted of Newt Scamander, his wife Tina, and Tina's sister, Queenie, and her Muggle husband, Jacob, whom Lyall still harbored an inkling of hope towards that Newt would let Hope visit, and relatively soon, at that.
"You could have left me back there in the woods, you know. Considering the trouble that I put you and Mr. Scamander through tonight, Mr. Lupin, you'd have been well within your rights to forgot about me and leave me behind."
Hope's words were soft, unassuming, and yet harbored no ill will nor hint of the blame for his actions. The shock and dawning horror must have been evident on his features, for Lyall felt his jaw drop open in his shock and his light hazel eyes widen at Hope's words.
Despite the growing anger in her savior's eyes at her words, Hope kept her gaze fixated on Lyall's eyes, unwilling for her words to lose any kind of meaning.
Hope swallowed thickly past the growing lump in her throat and continued, winding her hands around her cup of broth, staring down into the yellow liquid flecked with bits of carrots and other vegetables.
"But you didn't, Lyall," Hope continued seriously, with just a hint of awe in her voice. "You saved me from both those men in the woods tonight, brought me back here," she added, glancing around in wonder at the bedroom they were in, "and treated my wounds," Hope sighed, lifting one of her bandaged hands from the soup mug and pursing her lips. "After all the trouble I caused you tonight, you still saved my life." Hope paused, feeling her breaths catch in her throat, and fought against the urge to twist her hands painfully together out of a nervous habit, something she always did when nervous. "I surely don't deserve your kindness, but I want you to know that I'm truly grateful for it, Mr. Lupin. Really."
Her words now spent, Hope ducked her head so that a dark chocolate lock of her hair tumbled in front of her face, effectively shielding her reaction from Lyall's sight.
Lyall felt like his mind was reeling as his eyes widened and all he could do was stare at the bright young woman, hoping the fact that he was unable to tear his gaze away from her wasn't making her uncomfortable in any way.
Lupin nervously fidgeted with his fingers, weaving his fingers in between his knuckles while he wracked his brain for something to say that would put her at ease.
"You are a curious woman, indeed, Miss Howell," Lyall glanced towards the lit fireplace and stared into the flickering yellow, red and orange flames. A welcome distraction, as he found Hope's gaze far too unnerving for his liking. "I am glad that I was able to…save your life."
The young woman smiled gently at his words, and Lyall found that he loved it when she let him see her smile for himself. And it was because of something that he had done. He wanted to do it again, to give Miss Hope Howell a reason to smile, knowing it was because of him.
"You must be confused by how I even ended up in those woods, Mr. Lupin," Hope murmured, finally glancing up from her cup of soup to look Lyall in the eyes, realizing that he had seen what had happened with both those brutish pigs earlier tonight, as Lupin had been able to save her before anything too terrible happened. "I...well, stupid me, I got it into my head that it would be a good idea to try to take a shortcut through the woods," she chuckled nervously, though her laugh turned into more of a half-choked, pitiful sob.
He had, as it so happened, wondered several times what on earth a pretty young Muggle woman such as Hope was doing wandering alone in a thick Welsh boggart-infested forest, but just could not bring himself to ask, waiting to see if Hope would elaborate further.
She let out a deep, shuddering breath. "I…thank you, Lyall. For bringing me here and looking after me. I owe you one, it would seem," she let out a nervous chuckle.
"I can't imagine what that man would have done to you," Lyall muttered darkly, his light hazel eyes darkening to a rich brown in color as visions of the second wizard's face flitted in front of his vision. He didn't know who the monster was, but he'd find out.
Hope shuddered, silently nodding her agreement.
"Well…thank you, Lyall, for making sure that didn't happen," she said and bit her bottom lip. She leaned forward, and before she could lose her nerve or her newfound resolve, Lyall felt his entire body stiffen as Hope pressed her lips to his right cheek gently in a chaste and gentle kiss, letting her lips linger a moment that was perhaps longer than necessary, but she didn't care at all.
All it left was a little wet mark, a shallow pool of saliva on her cheek. But when Hope Howell planted the kiss there, Lyall found a warmth spreading through his limbs and his mind felt a pleasant, truly wonderful buzz.
Every good thing seemed possible, likely, even, with her at his side.
And then, Lyall knew he'd found what he'd been searching for in those woods tonight, and the boggart he'd saved Miss Howell from had nothing to do with it. No.
Lyall had been searching for someone to show him what it meant to be happy from the inside out, so his smile could finally be real for a change, and not a mask. Lyall drew in a sharp breath as he heard Hope speak, barely a whisper as she drew back and smiled shyly.
"In your coat pocket, Mr. Lupin. Perhaps I can tell you how I ended up in that forest over a lunch on Monday if you have some free time?" she said in a soft voice, before setting the tray on the night table and collapsing her head back against the pillows when finished.
It didn't take Miss Howell long to fall asleep.
She was fast asleep before Lupin could think to reply, to say yes, and he wasted no time in digging into his pocket. Somehow, the young woman had managed to slip a piece of paper into his pocket, but when did she write this?
It must be her work address, he surmised, feeling like his cheeks were on fire as he rose from his chair and striding over to the door, intent to let her sleep for a bit.
The skin on his cheek tingled where Miss Howell had pressed her lips. The cold, soft brushing of her tender skin felt like it burned his skin, rendering his chest a constricting mess and his stomach twisting in an uncomfortable bundle of nerves and desire for Hope.
The moment her lips pressed against his cheek, his mind had gone utterly blank. His light brown eyes had traveled to her beautiful, flawless, perfect face, her sparkling dark chocolate eyes, and stunning brown hair.
Her beauty rocked Lyall Lupin to his core, and for a moment, the thirty-year-old wizard forgot who he was. And when she spoke, her soft voice, a voice he so desperately wanting to hear speak words of love and affection meant for him, and only him, he had frozen.
Lyall felt a muscle in his jaw stiffen as he gingerly closed the door behind him as he exited Hope's room, remembering the fear in her face as the second stranger, definitely no boggart, had reached for Miss Howell, the sound of how desperate her voice was as she cried for help. He made up his decision tonight, as he walked down the hallway that led towards Newt's living parlor.
He would not leave Miss Howell's side, no matter what. And he would finally be able to tell her the honest truth, that he was a wizard, over that cup of coffee on Monday.
Yay, minor progress for Hope/Lyall. Glad those two finally got a moment to breathe after everything that's happened.
Ch. 10 flits back to present-day Lyall and checks in on Remadora and their adorable little Teddy to see how they're reacting to Lyall's story so far. Stay tuned for more!