12
HOPE looked towards the new speaker, her curiosity getting the better of her at the sound of a new voice, this one female, renting the otherwise silent atmosphere of the room.
This must be Mr. Scamander's wife, she thought, sniffling once or twice as she blearily lifted her head from the pillow and adjusted her position so her back was once more propped up against the pillows, allowing her to get her first good look at the woman who'd married old Newt.
Tina Scamander was not overly old, seemingly close to her husband's age, at perhaps around sixty-one or so, but her body had aged passed her years so much that she now wore the wizened features of an old crone, like a swamp witch or something in the fairy tales Hope had always envisioned in her mind when her parents would tell her fables at bedtime when she was just a little girl back then.
The occasional strand of flecks of grey could still be seen through the dark brown mane that framed her aging face, her hair cut short into a blunt, if not somewhat severe-looking bob, the ends of her hair just grazing past her chin. Her forehead was wrinkled by many peaks and trenches—caused by many years of persistent scowling.
Probably due to Scamander's antics, Hope thought bitterly, though she instantly regretted thinking such a mean thought and suddenly felt guilty as a horrible wave of abrupt bitterness settled into the pit of her suddenly nauseous and churning stomach, though she shoved aside the unhelpful thought and continued her initial first impression of the aging woman's appearance.
Her forehead unflatteringly crowned eyes that were currently harboring somewhat of a disdainful glare as Mrs. Scamander looked towards her husband disapprovingly, shadowing their uniquely beautiful shade of dark brown.
Her entire face currently seemed drained of any signs of joy and amusement, instead, her cheeks told a tale of displeasure, though Hope supposed the woman now standing in the doorway could chalk it up to old Newt.
Tina Scamander, ignoring the thoroughly startled forms of her husband and Lyall, let her gaze rake over the room and when her dark, heavily-lidded eyes immediately settled on the bed and caught sight of the young Muggle woman's distressed state of mind that was sure to exacerbate her physical injuries she'd sustained earlier while in the woods, Mrs. Scamander immediately took it on herself to act.
Gingerly stepping through the door and carefully squeezing past Newt, whose mouth was open, and her husband was looking like he had something to say on Tina's sudden intrusion in what was sure to be a delicate matter, she strode into the bedroom and to the young woman's side almost instantly, choosing to ignore Newt's pointed stare.
"Close your mouth, Newt, you look like a garden gnome whenever you do that, the look does not become you at all, love, and you know that," Tina snapped abruptly in a voice that did not sound like her at all, rather cold and harsh.
Her back was turned towards her husband and as was such, Tina Scamander did not see Newt obediently follow his wife's suggestion, and in addition to that, she missed the truly withering look he shot his beloved wife for her quip.
Mrs. Scamander silently bristled in annoyance the moment she heard Newt murmur something under his breath about "…garden gnomes being beneficial."
Tina found it a bit difficult not to roll her eyes at his words.
Tina initially hesitated, carefully sitting down at the edge of the young woman's mattress. She hesitated to touch this Muggle woman, afraid she would startle her even worse than she already was and ultimately cause a reaction that could ultimately injure herself or the others standing in the room.
And yet, Mrs. Scamander thought it was highly inappropriate to just…sit here and do nothing for the girl.
The poor thing had been through enough trauma in one night as it was, if what the brief explanation Lyall had been able to give Tina earlier was any indication of the truth.
"No one will hurt you, Miss Howell," Tina did her best to reassure the pretty brunette Muggle woman now perched atop a mountain of pillows in their spare queen bed. "It's quite all right. My husband tends to overreact when it comes to his precious animals, dear," she said softly.
Tina peeked over her shoulder and sent the bedroom a truly scolding and admonishing expression devoid of her typical warmth and kindness, the shadow of the Auror Mrs. Scamander had been once during her prime years flitting across her features as if daring Newt or Lyall to disagree with her.
The two wizards exchanged incredulous glances with one another and furrowed their eyebrows in disbelief. Both men, it seemed to Tina, were too wary by the situation to approach and could only stare at Miss Howell. They looked entirely too shocked to even consider the implications of how they had just greatly upset the girl.
Tina noticed Lyall give her a curt incline of his head, merely motioning to the older witch to continue the soothing gestures and speaking words of comfort to Miss Howell in the hopes of calming the young woman down.
While Newt, Tina observed silently with just the briefest hints of disdain, but Merlin blesses her husband, even with his lack of social graces in these types of situations, was merely looking more intrigued than angry.
Newt was peering over Lyall's slender shoulder for a better glimpse, having to almost stand on his tiptoes in order to do it, considering how much taller Lupin was.
Lyall, finally noticing his colleague's less than polite behavior, swiveled his head so sharply back around to regard Newt that Tina's husband had to stagger backward, letting out a muffled yelp of surprise in the process of doing so, to avoid both their heads connecting painfully.
Newt shot Lyall a furtive, almost guilty look with his eyes, silently trying to apologize for the conspicuous behavior. Newt turned his attention toward Tina and cautioned his wife with a gesture of concern intermingled with that of slight encouragement to calm the girl down.
Lupin took a cautious half-step towards the edge of the bed and resumed his seated position near the end of the mattress, curiosity clear in his kind, light hazel eyes. Yet, the wizard seemed content to watch for the time being, which Tina supposed she could appreciate.
Though Tina recognized that Lupin had somehow taken a shine to this Muggle, it was still a delicate situation that required the utmost handling with care, and a rather tender touch.
Nodding at her husband and Lyall Lupin for the silent concern and encouragement, Tina exhaled a slightly shaking breath before she turned back to the emotional young Muggle woman, a strained smile on her pale features.
"See, Miss Howell?" Tina encouraged, keeping her voice non-judgmental and soothing, speaking in soft, careful tones. "My husband means you no harm, dear. We just want to talk to you is all. Find out more about you if we can."
Almost the moment the words tumbled out of Tina's mouth, she regretted it, wishing there was an easier way to approach such a delicate subject as she wracked her brain for ways to break the news to the distraught young Muggle that magic was in fact, real, and everyone within this room save for her possessed magical abilities.
Judging by the way she had reacted just now to whatever Newt had managed to spout out of his mouth that had upset her greatly, Tina sincerely doubted she would take the news well that both of her saviors in the woods tonight happened to be wizards.
Tina inhaled a sharp breath of cool air and held it. For several moments, the young Muggle now resting in their bed, who had by this point, curled in over herself with her knees drawn up to her chest, did not respond to her at all.
She swore she heard the younger woman sniffle once or twice as slowly, her muffled sobs began to fade, and the girl's bony shoulders eventually ceased their trembling. Mrs. Scamander stiffened as she heard the young Muggle inhale a careful, yet slightly shuddering breath before removing her head from being buried in both of her hands.
Again, the pretty brunette that Lyall Lupin seemed to have taken a remarkably quick fancy to, which was a relatively new development in the painfully shy wizard's life that Tina still demanded copious details of, perhaps later over a glass of the red elvish-made wine she'd been saving for a special occasion, if Lupin felt up to it, took another deep and somewhat unsteady breath to calm herself, but instead of tentatively lifting her head to meet Tina's gaze so she could speak to her as Tina imagined, her head of dark chocolate hair came up so fast that elicited a startled cry of surprise from Tina, with Newt's wife having to lean backward from her spot on the mattress's ledge in order to avoid a nasty collision with her head.
"Talk?" The brunette whispered in a dangerously soft and quiet voice, just a hint of anger laced throughout her sweet, shy-sounding voice, quiet rage coloring her tone.
Her voice was just barely above a whisper, but Tina swore she could see the anger radiating from the woman's slender shoulders as they once more resumed their shaking, though this time, not from sobbing out of fear, but anger.
The tension in the atmosphere was quite thick at this point, and Tina felt like it was pressing down, suffocating.
"Talk?" the woman pressed forward, hissing her words through gritted teeth, and Tina's first thought, and perhaps an inappropriate one, was perhaps this Muggle girl if she did possess any hidden magical abilities, would have made a great Parseltongue, considering her words were hissed, spat like poisonous venom more than spoken, but Mrs. Scamander had no time to reflect on this strange thought as the young woman continued her growing tirade of rancor.
"Talk? If talking is all you want of me, then why did he," she growled, the soft undertones of her voice gradually rising as she wildly waved an arm towards Newt, who immediately stiffened and reacted at being addressed in such an uncouth way, "make me feel as though I was being interrogated? And all over my bag?! I—I haven't done anything wrong, so why is he hounding me like I'm some sort of criminal, Mrs. Scamander? Is your husband that much of an animal rights activist, miss, that he can't tell what faux crocodile leather looks like?!"
She did not exactly shout at the elderly witch, but nor was she pleased, either.
"A—and dragonhide? As in the actual hide from a dragon? Is everyone in this house out of their minds?! What is going on, Mr. Lupin? What aren't you telling me?!" Hope cried, hating hearing the unmistakable warbling note in the susurrations of her shy and timid voice, blinking back a fresh onset of salty, briny liquid. She looked and felt sure that slick tears would slip from her lids at any given moment if she couldn't manage to control herself. Tina felt a pang of pity prick at her heart.
Howell's plea was desperate, and the young brunette flinched upon hearing the faltering crack and dip in her tone as she looked towards Lupin for any confirmation.
Though before Lyall could open his mouth to speak, to offer what little words of comfort that he could, there came a knock at the door.
Hope felt her cheeks turn hot and her stomach give a flutter as her head whiplashed towards the door, wondering who on God's green earth could be standing just outside the door now if it was another person who seemed to be quite touched in the head and insane.
The first knock was followed up quickly with another in short succession. Fast, rapid knocks on the other side of the door with their knuckles, insistent, and sounding urging.
Whoever stood on the other side of the closed bedroom door was in the middle of mid-knock, their third round of wraps on the heavy door, when, and this part, Hope swore she imagined it, swearing her eyes were deceiving her, but the young woman could have sworn the door somehow magically swung open of its own accord, for it flung open and flew backward so hard it rattled against its rusted hinges, though neither Mr. nor Mrs. Scamander nor Lyall had so much as made a motion to open the door.
Tina exhaled a shaking breath of relief through her flaring nostrils at the somewhat heavyset, dark-haired man that now stood in the doorway, looking at the scene unfolding before him as tension met him upon stepping over the threshold of the hallway and further into their spare bedroom, the edges of his lightly-grown dark mustache prompting without twitching.
Hope stared, blinking owlishly at the new arrival, who was looking more than a little awkward as his eyes made a quick scan of the room before settling on her.
"This her?" he questioned in a somewhat gruff, deep voice, his gaze fixated solely on Newt Scamander, Hope noticed. It also did not escape her intuitive nature that the man's lilt of his voice carried a slight New York accent.
If that's the case, he's a long way from home if that's where he lives. Hope swallowed thickly past the swelling lump in her throat, a muted whimper escaping her lips.
Though this somewhat pudgy-looking man seemed kind enough upon the first appearance, Hope had learned the hard way tonight, not once, but twice, that appearances could be deceiving, and she felt her fingers twist into fists as she clutched at the edges of her bedsheet and afghan draped over her lap as the man shrugged out of his trench coat and proceeded to greet all three of them like an old friend, moving towards Newt Scamander first for a tight embrace.
Hope could not explain the sudden swell of uneasiness that had wormed its way into the pit of her churning belly, but anyone who could put up with Mr. Scamander's' antics and, in her mind, severe animal rights activist behaviors, seemed all right in her book, but still, her rationale did nothing to quell the hint of dread as the man pulled up a chair and proceeded to look at Hope rather interestedly.
The man's dark eyes glanced over only once towards Newt and Lyall, both men having relaxed a little in their stances upon this new man's arrival, Hope suspiciously noted, which only made her feeling of general uneasiness well within her chest.
"I got your…message, Newt. Queenie sent me here as quickly as she could. Uh, Newt?" the man questioned, sounding cautious as he continued to keep his gaze fixated on Hope, his gaze unabashed and unwavering.
It unnerved Hope to no end, though she had no time to ponder it as Mr. Scamander spoke up, only seeming to relax the moment his wife removed herself from her perch at the edge of Miss Howell's bed and moved to stand alongside him, resting a gentle, reassuring hand on his left shoulder.
This new stranger shot Newt a quizzical look with furrowed eyebrows. Newt, sensing what the man was about to ask, gave a curt shake of his head no, and shot a rather pointed look towards Lyall, who immediately stiffened.
"She doesn't know yet, Jacob," Newt murmured in a quiet, somber voice that had lost all traces of its previously hardened edges, which signaled to Hope and everyone else in the room that the worst of his anger towards Hope was over, though Hope silently bristled as the older man turned his back on Hope and this new arrival named Jacob, though not before peeking over his shoulder and casting one last truly scathing look towards Hope's purse on the nightstand that immediately set Hope's blood on fire. "Keep it, Miss Howell," Newt said, at last, his voice sounding pained, though he adamantly refused to meet Hope's piercing stare.
"Y—you don't want it?" Hope stammered, looking towards Lyall, who shot her an encouraging smile that she did not return, and Hope swore he looked hurt and almost offended a little bit when he didn't, but she paid it no mind. There were other more important things on her mind right now than worrying about returning his smile with one of her own, such as someone—hopefully Lyall, and perhaps this new bloke, Jacob—telling her the honest truth.
Newt Scamander gave a slight shake of her head no that Hope almost missed, and likely would have, had she not already been hanging onto the elderly wizard's every move.
"No, it's yours. I…apologize for the way I reacted earlier," he answered simply, speaking as though the words were causing him great pain just to utter his simple apology, still not meeting her gaze and refusing to do so.
The only person present in the room whom he did seem comfortable enough to lift his gaze and lock eyes with was Lyall, Hope noticed, as he revolved at the waist.
"When the three of you are done talking," Mr. Scamander muttered, lowering his voice an octave as a flicker of something unreadable darted across his features, "I'd like to speak to you, Mr. Lupin. If you are agreeable to it, I'd like to return to that Welsh forest in search of him," he said, his words cautious.
Hope inhaled sharply and sat up straighter against her mountain of pillows, feeling her almond-shaped dark brown eyes widen in shock at fear. Mr. Scamander's tone brought concern to her gaze, and she was sure the look of shock was evident upon her bruised features as she gaped.
Lyall offered the slightest incline of his head, silently signaling his agreement with his work colleague's plan, though not before turning to look towards Hope, a solemn and grim expression snaking its way to his handsome face.
Without waiting for her permission to approach her side, thinking it unwarranted at this point, given everything that had happened to her so far tonight, not seeing Newt and Tina silently trickling their way out of the room, dispersing until only Hope, Jacob, and Lyall remained in the bedroom, Lyall strode towards Hope's side and stared deep into her eyes for what felt to Hope like several long, excruciating moments as the tension between the two, the words left unspoken that Lyall seemed to be having difficulty saying, remained.
He reached down, having to bend slightly in order to do it, to brush back a stray strand of dark chocolate hair that had fallen across Hope's ashen face.
Then suddenly, Lyall could not bear to look at the shining adoration intermingled with a truly desperate and pleading look as the man held Hope's gaze. Lyall righted himself, turning to stare briefly at the new arrival, Jacob, before fixing his gaze at a piece of peeling floral wallpaper just behind Hope's head a few centimeters above.
"I have to go back to the woods, Miss Howell."
His voice was faint, and very nearly a whisper, sounding hushed and rather ashamed, as though Lupin had just confessed a dirty secret, and he was looking rather embarrassed, hurt, and upset, which made two of them.
Hope felt her face rapidly drain of color as her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach and her lips went dry. She licked her lips to moisten them, but no moisture came, only a further feeling of dryness and chapped lips.
She swallowed back the acidic bile that was seeping its way unbidden up into her throat, hoping she'd not vomit.
"You're…you're going back?" Hope repeated slowly, unsure of what she had said, and even more unsure that she had heard Lupin's words correctly. "Back to the…woods."
Lyall dropped his chin remorsefully, unsure of what else to say to her. He swore he could almost hear Miss Howell's fragile heartbreak and the vestiges of her patience snap. He nodded slowly and sorrowfully.
"Back to those men."
It was not even a question as it left Hope's lips. She voiced her suspicion as if she were certain. Lyall nodded, not bothering to bring up the fact that the first 'man' Miss Howell had actually encountered was, in fact, a boggart.
That was a conversation best saved for another time hopefully in the future, presuming his confession at what he was about to tell her didn't scare her off. He hoped not.
Lupin twisted his entire body to face Hope's, desperate to make the young woman understand why he had to leave.
"I am not abandoning you, Miss Howell," he corrected, sensing the worry that was wrought all over her pale face, "I'm going back to ensure those men can't harm you or anyone else ever again. Mr. Scamander will be with me, we will be safe, but…" Here, he hesitated, looking towards Jacob, almost as if for confirmation. "This is Jacob Kowalski, a family friend of Newt and his wife. Jacob here is married to Tina's sister, Queenie, Hope. He's quite nice, and will keep you company until Newt and I return," Lyall quickly explained, hoping that a friendly face would provide at least a small modicum of comfort to the distraught and confused beautiful young Muggle.
The overweight man offered a nod but no verbal response. Lyall emanated a tense breath through his nose and closed his eyes, steeling his nerves for her reaction, already able to sense it wasn't apt to be pleasant.
Though before he could confess what was perhaps in this moment his deepest, darkest secret, Hope spoke up, effectively pulling Lupin from his dark, swirling thoughts.
"Why?" Hope shook her head, trying to send Lyall's words away, swallowing past a lump in her throat. "You promised me that you wouldn't leave me alone here. That I would be safe here!" she begged, close to tears.
"You will," Lyall did his best to reassure Hope of that fact, though his words seemed to have no effect on the distraught young woman, who merely raised her eyebrows in Lyall's direction and blinked back a fresh wave of tears that threatened to escape her eyelids if she couldn't manage to maintain control over her raging emotions in her overwhelmed mind.
"Y—you cannot leave me alone with these people, Mr. Lupin. They—they seem kind enough, b—but…dragons? Wizards? Galleons? I...I don't even know what that is! I heard you talking with Mr. Scamander outside my—my door when I woke up," Hope whispered.
Now it was her turn to look embarrassed as a light pink blush speckled on her cheeks as she took in the sight of Lupin's rapidly paling face as he realized she'd been listening in.
"How much of that did you overhear, Hope?" he questioned gently, glancing down at his hands, and quickly realizing that Hope's fingers were still clasped tightly in his own, and the young woman showed no signs of relinquishing her grip.
Instead of shrugging out of the young Muggle's vice grip, Lupin held firmly to her pale and perfect hands, hoping to make Hope understand that it was for her own safety that he was choosing to return with Newt, to try to find him.
"I heard enough to know that I don't understand what's going on," Hope implored, her rich chocolate eyes pleading with his, desperately searching Lyall's eyes for the truth. "I…" She bit down on her bottom lip, looking away for a moment to compose herself before swiveling her head back to the front to fully meet Lyall's questioning, hopeless gaze.
It seemed to take Hope an eternity to find her voice again, and when she did speak, her voice was practically shaking.
"I like you, Mr. Lupin," she announced boldly, not caring if this Jacob character overheard any of what she was about to say that she believed were meant for Lyall and him alone. "I would like to continue talking with you and getting to know you better, if…if that's something you want."
Her voice trailed off and she fell silent, waiting for Lyall to respond, and she bit her bottom lip in hesitation.
Lupin, for his part, answered without any hint of unease or hesitation on his part, which sent a spiraling feeling of warmth through Hope's veins and bloodstream at hearing his answer.
"I—I do," Lyall stammered, feeling a sheen of cold perspiration start to break out along his forehead as beads of sweat steadily dripped down the front of his temples. Hope nodded, a surge of fiery determination suddenly present in her dark brown eyes that had not been there a second ago, and she sat up straighter and looked at him.
"Then if you want that, if you want me in your life, then please…be honest with me. Please," Hope implored in a soft voice, her almond-shaped dark brown eyes brimming with the beginnings of a fresh bought of tears that she fought against, shrugging one of her hands out of Lupin's grasp to flick away at a single tear that had escaped her left eyelid.
She knew what she was asking of Lyall had to be a lot for him, but no matter what words came out of his mouth, she'd not run from him, or turn the man away, no matter what happened. She simply could not. Hope knew she wanted to know this man, and to help him in any way she could, even if it was simply offering the man company.
He hesitantly bit his lip and looked towards the Scamander's family friend, Jacob, for confirmation.
"Tell her, Lupin," Jacob offered in a somber voice. "I think it would be best if you just got it out in the open."
The man's friendly smile and kind dark eyes seemed to calm down whatever nerves were waging war within his system slightly, Hope noticed somewhat affectionately.
She'd have to make a mental note to thank this Jacob character later if Hope got a moment alone with Mr. Kowalski.
Lyall visibly winced, his gaze wandering over Hope's face once more as he reluctantly tore his eyes from Jacob's sympathetically smiling face. He desperately searched Hope's face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but he found none within the young Muggle woman's eyes to behold.
The last phrase the cautious young brunette had just uttered to him was still swimming through his tormented mind, and it was the use of the word 'please' that caused Lyall to feel the sudden shift within himself and tell her.
"Well, I—it is…difficult for me to explain, Miss Howell," Lupin trailed for a moment, unsure of how best to phrase his confession, for he'd hardly ever had this type of interaction with a young woman before, much less a Muggle who had no knowledge whatsoever that magic existed in parallel and in tandem to that of her own world.
Merlin's Beard, but his heart was racing as he looked at her. Her brilliant dark eyes like that of smooth chocolate sparkled in the light of the dimly lit candles which had been placed precariously by her bedside table, and another couple on the dresser, a few more on the only windowsill in the room, though the soft orange and red light gave her skin a faint amber glow that made Hope Howell look…truly gorgeous. He felt his tongue caught in his throat.
Sensing his nervousness, Hope's expression changed only slightly. She straightened her back and leaned forward, folding her hands tighter as her shaking hands found purchase in a twist of the surprisingly soft cotton sheets.
Hope was sure she looked a little shocked at the man's sudden display of nervousness and this Jacob fellow's strange sympathetic glances he continuously cast towards her, a look of apprehension on his pinked cheeks, almost as if he expected a volatile reaction of Hope once Lyall confessed the truth to her of whatever was going on.
"I…" Lyall's voice cracked and wavered as he nervously lifted his chin to better look Hope Howell in the eyes.
Lupin exhaled a shaking breath through his nose, steeling himself for the young woman whose life he had saved twice tonight to have an adverse reaction to the confession he was about to make to her.
But if not now, then when? Newt was right. She was going to have to learn the truth at some point, and she had so calmly and coolly asked him for the honest truth. No secrets or barriers between the two of them if he were to continue to call on her, and Lyall knew that he had to tell Hope the truth.
"I…I'm a wizard," he confessed, his voice small and his words so faint, that at first as Hope leaned forward, straining to hear the soft-spoken man's words, she thought at first Lupin hadn't spoken at all, that he'd trailed off.
Hope felt a cold chill of unbridled fear waft through her veins, as something within Hope clinked that very second.
She felt her almond-shaped dark brown eyes widen in shock and awe as her head collapsed back against the pillow.
Wizards? Had she heard Mr. Lupin correctly? Were those strange chaps she met in the woods, the ones so much taller than her, wizards? Was that how they had been able to appear in front of her in the dark forest, almost silent as a phantom without any indication of where they'd come from? Were they…wizards?! And what about Mr. Scamander? He had seemingly appeared to rescue her from that second brute almost out of midair, as if by…magic.
And then there was that moment earlier when Jacob had entered the room, how the door had flown open, seemingly of its own accord without Mr. or Mrs. Scamander or Lyall stepping forward to open the door.
And Lyall, oh, Lyall! He had appeared out of nowhere when he'd saved her from the first stranger in the woods, darting through the trees, quick as lightning, moving so fast the man was almost a blur, and she'd not seen him until Mr. Lupin had been standing right in front of her.
"Miss Howell?" Lyall's voice reached her eardrums, sounding wrought with worry. "Say something," he pleaded.
But she couldn't hear him. Hope let out a pained whimper as she shrank back against her pillows in fear.
Oh, no. This…this is NOT happening. I—I can't be having a conversation with an actual, honest-to-God wizard! I am NOT currently sitting in a house filled with—with magical artifacts that I can't even recognize! And they were talking about dragons! Oh, are dragons even real?!
The cup of soup she'd been holding clutched tightly in both hands slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor with a loud, resounding clang, though before the mug could shatter into a thousand pieces and spill its truly delicious contents all over the floor, Lyall pulled a thin-looking dark brown stick that looked to be made of the wood from an oak tree from an interior pocket of his tattered brown old jacket and gave it a sharp wave with a well-practiced flick of his wrist and the cup immediately soared through the air and landed with a gentle thump back in its original resting place on top of the night table.
Hope merely stared blankly at the man who'd saved her life tonight, not wanting to believe Lyall could be a wizard. That she, quite possibly, was about to have a life-changing experience if and when her mind could accept it.
But for now, it seemed to be putting up quite a struggle.
"I…I'm not, h—how….?" She murmured to herself, hardly daring to blink her lids, for fear if she did, all of this in front of her, Lyall included, would disappear from her life.
"Miss Howell? Are you feeling sick? You've gone pale," Jacob pointed out from where he sat perched in the corner.
She could hear Lyall murmuring something to Jacob by way of response, but the words weren't registering in her mind. "This—this is a dream, Lupin, right? I'm dreaming, aren't I?" she questioned desperately, biting her lip as she looked towards Lyall and then to Jacob for their answers.
Jacob made an odd little snorting noise at the back of his throat and rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her query.
"Believe me, lady, I ain't got the brains to make this up."
"But how?!" Hope exclaimed desperately, leaning forward, and gesturing wildly about the room. "Th—this isn't possible, none of this is real! Magic can't exist, o—otherwise we—we would have known about it, right?"
Hope, more than anything, wanted a real answer, and things in her mind were not adding up at all right now.
If this was a dream, if she'd hit her head when she'd fallen, then that meant…she was still in the woods, yes? If this was a dream, she shouldn't be able to feel it? Right? Wasn't that one of the standard rules with vivid dreams?
"Stop this, Lyall, and tell me the truth! Wh—what are you? What was that? I—if you are a wizard, then why on earth didn't you take care of those men when you had a chance?! They—they hurt me, they would have killed me!"
"Hope, that's enough! I told you the truth! I am a wizard, Miss Howell, like it or not, and that isn't about to change," Lyall exclaimed, looking like his own temper was swelling. Though he sounded more hurt than angry with her, the look in his glistening, shimmering eyes laced to the brim with antagonizing hurt at the nature of Hope's reaction.
As he took a cautious half-step towards Hope's bed, his light hazel eyes had darkened considerably, flashing dangerously and strange fire of sorts danced behind the handsome bloke's orbs.
Several of the candles that had been lighted that were scattered throughout the quaint little bedroom, were suddenly extinguished, purging the room into an eerie, haunting sort of horrible, pitch blackness.
Shivering through her gritted teeth, Hope shrank back against the mountain of pillows as much as it would allow her to, suddenly terrified of the young man in front of her.
"Mr. Lupin, sir, why don't we all just…calm down here, okay? We—we don't want to re-enact a scene from Grindelwald's defeat here, do we?" Jacob weakly joked.
But Hope ignored the other man's pitiful attempt at a joke meant to diffuse the swelling tension in the room. If the men—wizards—who had threatened her life before were terrifying, this was now a hundred times worse.
She had been chased, interrogated, threatened, and now, Hope could add being yelled at to the top of her list. What was it about this Friday evening that hated her so much?!
Why was she here, and more to the point besides, where was here? Confused wasn't even half of what Hope was feeling right now as she bit down on her bottom lip, blinking back the tears that threatened to escape her lids.
"Miss Howell?" The man's voice, unmistakably Lyall's, had gone rather soft and quiet again, reverted to its usual timid, tenor-like tones as the worst of his anger vanished.
Hope flinched the moment she felt the all-too-familiar touch of Lyall's strong, calloused hand on her shoulder, though she did not grant Lupin the courtesy of reacting.
Right now, she just wanted to be left well alone. Hope wanted to wake up from this dreadful nightmare, for what else could it possibly be?! Lyall's voice came again, urgent.
"Miss Howell, please. Hope. Please look at me. I—I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. Th—that was rude and inconsiderate of me. I…I'm sorry, Hope. I apologize."
Hope wanted nothing more than to tell Lyall Lupin that yes, it was very rude and inconsiderate towards her feelings! She was not in the mood to be yelled at, simply because she did not understand her surroundings, much less what on God's green earth was going on right now. The who, the why, the what, the where! None of it!
Hope felt she did not deserve to be scolded for her lack of understanding, much less not wanting to accept the fact based on word of mouth that magic existed. That little stunt Lyall had just pulled with her cup of soup had to be a sort of optical illusion or something, Hope rationalized. She'd not asked for any of this.
But God, she didn't want any of this! She had enough problems as it was in her normal life with dealing with Janey's son's Robert's unwanted advances that were increasing in frequency, her coworkers' sometimes annoying and rude comments, and now she had this—whatever was happening to her—on her plate of things to do with, and it was entirely too much.
"Just leave me alone, Lupin! Go away!" she shouted, however, due to how hoarse her voice was from lack of water, the demand did not come off quite as intimidating as she'd hoped. In fact, it sounded downright pitiful, yes.
Hope sharply turned her head to the right and ducked her head so she'd not have to bear to look into his eyes.
For a long moment, there was nothing but awkward silence.
Then there was the unmistakable sound of retreating footsteps, two pairs of them, and Hope did not even have to look up from burying her head in her hands to know that the two men had honored her request to be left alone.
She was, like it or not, now one hundred percent, alone.
Eep. Well, that could have gone a lot better, if you ask me! Though in Lyall's defense, I don't think he had a choice. Hope Howell isn't a stupid woman, and could already figure out something was amiss that the others weren't telling her. Coming up in Ch. 13, Lyall attempts to ask Newt, Tina, and Jacob for advice.