A/N: Ugh, hard to believe I only have 8 chapters left of this long-fic, but I have this weird quirk about trying to end a story on an even-chapter note, so as a consequence, the last couple of chapters will be rather long as I wrap up Remadora's and Nollie's joined stories, but hopefully, just as good!
This chapter checks up on Nollie (finally) and I had a segment with these two earlier during Lupin and Tonks' wedding that shows what Norah and Ollie got up to and the beginnings of their relationship, since I feel like I kind of sprung this pairing on folks and glossed over it, so for the sake of expanding on it a little, I'm backtracking and choosing to tell their side of Remadora's wedding day through a dream Norah has.
I still can't believe my precious baby is coming to an end, it feels like I've been working on this long-fic for several months now, but nor do I feel like it would be appropriate and fair to continue to drag it out and fill it with filler chapters when I still have a story to wrap up and don't feel like dragging this out for too much longer, but as a consequence, the last 8 chapters might be kind of long, so apologize in advance for that, but hope you will still enjoy it!
112
Ollie had been out of Norah's bedroom for less than five minutes to get a drink of water to quell the aching, burning feeling in his throat as it tightened, and by the time he returned, he was less than twenty feet from Norah's bed, when he heard a low, pitiful, mournful weeping echoing from across the room.
He frowned, his black brows coming together in contemplative thought. He had become quite familiar with this particular sound over the last few hours.
It felt as though Time itself had become suspended, and Ollie moved in slow motion like his ankles were weighted down with chunks of stone in iron-wrought chains that were dragging him down and preventing him from reaching her.
He had no bloody idea what to expect when he reached the werewolf's side, either, or what to do, but Ollie couldn't help the stab of fear that pricked at his heartstrings, wondering if her quiet crying had anything to do with her injuries.
Ollie bolted to her bedside, kneeling on the edge, and tried to give Norah a once-over.
He swore, grinding his teeth and running his tongue along the top wall of his teeth, wishing he had more light to work with to better assess the young blonde witch's condition, though not wanting to light the tip of his wand and risk waking Norah up when he knew that she needed to sleep and to rest.
He drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs as he noticed Norah's eyelids twitching, her pale lids covering her rapidly moving eyes. A dream?
As soft moonlight spilled across the simplistic bedroom, Ollie's towering shadow was now the only darkness to mar it, and the sight of the blankets and sheets tossed around in harsh, violent twists, caused his heart to give a lurch.
Her short blonde pixie was disheveled, her blonde bangs covering her forehead and coated in sweat as perspiration dripped down her temples.
Tears poured relentlessly from her tightly closed lids, running their way down her ashen cheeks over already previously dried tear tracts, down the slope of her temple.
The delicate skin of her brow was pulled taut in her fitful sleep, her breaths hitching in uneven intervals, a pained look on her face.
Doesn't this woman ever sleep? He asked himself, though immediately felt guilty.
Of course, she wouldn't sleep much, having to live in the Forbidden Forest all her life, always having to be on the lookout for centaurs and spiders.
Ollie's sharp blue eyes traveled down to examine the bandages at her side, relieved to see at the least that he couldn't see any fresh blood that had managed to seep through and stain the gauze, for which he was relieved.
His body became suddenly wracked with guilt that managed to worm its way into Ollie's rapidly beating heart, that damned stubborn corded muscle of throbbing veins within his chest and it dispersed into every fiber of his being.
Ollie felt his eyes prick with the beginnings of fresh tears, feeling a wave of empathy for the young blonde witch and werewolf rock him to his core, so strong now that it physically ached.
I shouldn't have left your side, Norah.
But Merlin's Beard, could he not leave her alone unattended for five minutes to fetch a much-needed drink of water for fear she'd hurt herself?
Ollie gave his head a curt shake to clear it, carding his fingers through his thick tuft of raven-black hair.
No. Don't think like that. You're here now by her side. You're going to help her get through this, and Remus and Tonks will help you. You're not alone.
His newfound optimism returned to him, he knew it to be fiercer than his guilt could consume him and overtake him.
Norah was alive.
She was going to survive, and he was going to make damn well sure of it. Ollie had gotten this far with her throughout the night, and he knew that if he were capable of help tending to her physical wounds, he could with her spiritual ones as well.
What are you dreaming of, Norah? he mused, curious.
The Legilimens longed to dip into the witch's mind and see for himself, though he gave his head a curt shake to clear it.
There was a time and a place. And now was not the time, nor was it the place. Right now, he needed to focus on helping her heal and to try to rouse her from whatever was happening.
He did not know how long he sat by the edge of Norah's bedside, a minute or two, maybe more that slipped by in his own contemplations.
He didn't know. Ollie stilled his movements as his hand reached up and brushed back a wisp of her blonde pixie cut back behind her ear where he knew it rightfully belonged, though he hoped the movement didn't wake her.
He fought an internal war within the conflicts of his mind, not sure if he should try to rouse Norah out of whatever dream she was having and itching to probe her mind.
He hoped that she was dreaming of him.
Ollie longed to wake her and to speak with her, to provide some small measure of comfort she would be fine, though he was reluctant to do so. He'd heard horror stories, people being wakened from dreams, nightmares so abruptly without any kind of warning.
In their panicked state, the poor souls would start to attack the ones attempting to wake them out of their dream state, or they'd start convulsing.
And given the extent and severity of Jameson's wounds, he did not want to risk her further injuring herself and making her recovery that much longer.
Ollie jumped, startled, as Norah's head lolled to the left and turned towards him, and he looked at her crumpled, twisting form with apprehensive eyes.
Tears marred the edges of his vision, though he swallowed hard and forced himself to fight down the salty liquid, giving his head another violent shake.
No matter what, he could not let her suffer like this. He had to try to intervene and wake her up. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and forced the dark thoughts from his mind to the recesses of his mind and grabbed her hand.
He scooted a fraction of an inch closer to the bed. Just a little bit more…
Ollie bit down hard on his tongue to quell the startled scream that threatened to escape his lips, hard enough that he soon tasted the metallic tang of copper and iron on his tongue and palate and realized he'd drawn blood.
He cringed, pulling a face as he swallowed it, clasping his hand to his chest as he watched as Norah silently cried, every one of her taxed muscles strained.
Her hands were curled into fists as they clutched onto fistfuls of the blankets and sheets. Ollie stood by Norah's side, beside himself with panic.
He did not know what to do in this regard other than to continue to search for further signs that she may have accidentally injured herself during sleep.
Finally, however, just as quickly as the blonde werewolf's unexpected reaction had come, it was gone, and her body immediately went limp and she collapsed back against the pillow, her head lolling to the left and he heard her let out a wistful, broken, and cracked sigh.
Ollie remained firmly planted to his spot, though he slowly lowered his body to sit back at the edge of the mattress.
He waited with bated breath and gritted teeth for another violent, unpredictable episode. He swallowed down hard past the growing lump in his throat and glanced down his nose at Norah's sleeping figure, noticing tears forming at the outer edges of her eyes.
Sweat had gathered on her brow as it furrowed in whatever unspoken mental and physical anguish she was currently in the throes of experiencing.
Ollie could hear Norah's pitiful whimpers, painful cries rip through her tightened throat as her tongue tried to refuse their release.
A single tear gave way and slowly dripped down her temple and drenched her t-shirt.
Ollie reached out a trembling hand and took Norah's hand in his.
The young blonde witch slowly turned her head to face Ollie, though she didn't wake, as she was still struggling with whatever held her hostage within the tormented confines of her own mind.
A few more tears fell from her eyes.
Ollie gingerly reached up a finger and allowed the pad of his fingertip to lightly brush the final tear off of her cheek, loathe to see the woman he loved shed tears.
He drew in a sharp breath and leaned in close, his lips lightly brushing the skin of her upper temple, and he winced, not liking how hot she was. It felt as though she were running a fever. He drew in an unsteady breath.
His throat constricted and had started to ache again from the fresh wave of tears of his own that he was forced to fight off. Ollie squeezed his eyes shut.
"You're okay, Norah." He whispered his words, so faint that they were as the wind. "You're okay. You're okay," he repeated the phrase like a mantra, hoping somehow, she could hear him through the throes of her dreamlike, hurt state.
Ollie furrowed his brows in a frown as he noticed Norah trying to open her eyes and her head inclined slowly off the pillow. Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal a brief glimpse of her crystalline blue eyes, as bright as a robin's egg.
Her eyes remained fixated on him and stayed open for a minute, though whether or not Norah was actually seeing him in front of her remained to be seen.
Ollie froze as Norah stirred and it jolted him out of his worried thoughts.
A chill traveled down his spine as he heard her groan, an almost muted sound as it escaped her cracked lips, and his movements stilled the second Ollie noticed Norah grunting with the effort to get up.
No. Don't do it, he pleaded. Don't get up. Please don't try to move, Norah.
This was a big mistake.
"No! Norah, stay down, lie back and rest," he commanded, hardening his voice and he visibly winced, hearing the familiar harsh tone of his father laced throughout his.
Ollie gritted his teeth and gave his head a curt shake to clear it, not wanting to think of people and memories that he'd sooner rather forget.
Norah woke up as if it had become an emergency as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. Her heart beat fast and there was a buzzing in her brain.
She rose shakily, swinging her legs off the edge of the queen mattress and upright into a sitting position.
Big mistake. The room immediately started spinning. Norah squeezed her eyes tightly shut, fighting back the swell of nausea that wracked over her body and caused her skin to break out in a cold sweat.
Norah could hear a man's voice coming from her immediate left. Ollie. Though just as she slowly swiveled her head to try to find out where he was, where his voice was coming from in relation to where she sat on the edge of the bed, she felt the wave of nausea intensify, causing her poor stomach to churn.
Her throat hollowed and constricted, and she could tell by the bitter, acidic stomach bile that caused a warm sensation to tingle and spread throughout her chest and settle on her throat, that Norah made the wrong choice in moving.
"Norah?" Ollie's voice taut with concern, coming from her left again. "Thank Merlin you're awake. I—I was getting worried about you. You were dreaming."
Her bright blue eyes blinked sleepily for a moment, before settling on Ollie as she slowly turned her head to the left.
Nausea clawed at Norah's throat, and she tried to speak, though her throat was parched, and a muffled whine escaped her lips. Norah tried to force down the bile that crept to her throat, but it was too late for that.
Ollie became still for a millisecond, watching as what little color was left in the young blonde's face drained, and thinking quickly, he waved his wand and conjured an orange plastic basin, more of a bucket, and shoved it under Norah's chin, thanking Merlin he was quick to react as he heard the poor woman retch hard and loudly into the bowl, clinging to that orange bucket like it were a life raft.
Her churning stomach kept on contracting violently, forcing everything up and out. Her face white, dripping bile, sweat, and tears as she choked on it. The pungent stench invaded her nostrils and she heaved and gagged, though, by this point, there was nothing left within the contents of her stomach to force its way out.
But Merlin's Beard, she couldn't remember the last time she felt so bloody sick. Her whole body ached, flushing with heat, a fever.
Norah's muscles ached all over as well, and the wound at her ribcage stung, and her newly-mended, previously burnt leg had gone numb, though she suspected Remus and Professor Snape had given her something while she'd been knocked out to dull the pain, she had a feeling she'd feel it later.
Ollie, noticing Norah's discomfort as she shoved the basin away and collapsed back against the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut, quickly retrieved the glass of ice water he had brought for her and Norah felt herself stiffen instinctively as the man moved swiftly towards her, so fast she could have sworn he moved as a Death Eater would, though Ollie merely draped an arm behind her shoulder, trying feebly to prop her up into a sitting position.
Norah heaved a tiny groan as she saw she had no other choice but to summon what little strength was left in her battered and broken, bruised body, and assisted her new lover (she startled at that thought, jumping a little) in elevating her upright to a sitting position just enough to hold the glass to her lips.
As she drank, Norah felt the chill run down her esophagus and her head made an involuntary shake.
A numbness crept into her brain the way it did whenever she tended to drink too fast, and when the glass was drained, she took the ice cube between her molars and bit down hard, feeling it melt into cold pools on her palate and tongue as the water washed away the taste of vomit from her mouth.
Norah shuddered and collapsed back against the bed.
As she eased back onto the pillow, Norah's eyelids flung wide open as she remembered something else.
Ollie had brought her back.
She had heard his voice calling to her, a low, timorous voice, telling her to come back to him.
She swallowed down hard as she felt her throat hollow and constrict, and when she finally did speak, her tongue in her mouth felt thick, like there was a gag on it, and she managed in a hoarse whisper.
"Y—you saved my life, Ollie."
"Shh," he shushed, scooting over a fraction of an inch closer, still keeping his arm draped around her shoulder, though wanting to lay next to Norah on the bed to remain close by in case she woke up again and needed something. "Don't try to speak. You should sleep and get some rest, Norah. We can talk in the morning. You need to try to get your strength back. You're alive, Norah."
Norah's face fell, crestfallen, though she knew Ollie didn't see it, for which she was grateful.
Then I'm not dead, she thought, feeling her lids become heavy and start to drift off again. That's a fucking shame.
Sleep was quickly and inexplicably taking hold of her completely, but before it claimed her, she forced herself to speak her mind once more.
Ollie needed to hear what she had to say.
"Thank you, Ollie. For—for everything," she whispered, feeling herself smile for the first time since waking up as she nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder.
Norah shuddered as she felt something soft and featherlight press against the skin of her brow, realizing it was his lips against her forehead, and she nestled underneath the sheets and buried her head into Ollie's chest as she allowed herself to succumb to her dreams.
She dreamed of Ollie, his voice, the night of Remus and Tonks's wedding in the Forbidden Forest, the night that everything between her and the man had changed, though whether or not it was for the better, Norah did not know.
The memory devoured her mind.
Norah Jameson fidgeted uncomfortably in her dress, a long sleeveless maxi dress, silver and silk in color, that Mrs. Weasley and Tonks had forced her into something that the pair of witches deemed much more 'eloquent' than her usual black leather jacket for her and Remus's wedding commencing shortly.
She stifled a groan of frustration and dug her nails into the skin of her palms, glancing down at her new dress with no small amount of frustration.
To distract herself from the uncomfortable and somewhat precarious position that she found herself in, that she was, perhaps for the second time in her life, wearing a Merlin-damned bloody dress of all things, looked to the trees.
The fact that Remus John Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were marrying on Halloween had not escaped the She-Wolf's attention, and her slightly pointed ears perked up at the noise of the rustling leaves of the canopy above her head, and she took in the sights of this festive Halloween evening, allowing her wolfish sense of sight, hearing, and smell to allow her to bask in the moment of calm serenity.
The leaves danced from branch to ground, each a colorful flag without strings or pole, free to roam.
Norah could feel the heavenly cool breeze, rich with the aroma of the earth, the keeper of the seeds for the springtime to come eventually to the Forbidden Forest.
There was a calmness, as if all the gold, berry-reds, and browns that fluttered from the boughs of the trees were like a cozy quilt, bringing to Norah that same peace that she could only achieve when night fell.
The young blonde werewolf blinked at the grandiosity that Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore had spread before her with just a wave of their wands, truly enthralled by the simplistic beauty of such complex nonverbal magic.
A single golden leaf pirouetted down an invisible spiral of breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself be carried down.
It shook slightly as if it could have been whisked away any second by the grip of icy wind, but it kept floating down the twirling course.
It blew past Norah's face and landed lightly on the ground, the shiny, vibrant color standing out against the ambers and bronzes beneath it.
It was so delicate, the young blonde wolf wanted to reach down and pick it up and hold it close to her heart, smoothing out any creases, but something told Norah that it belonged there, this corpse of what was once summer.
A pair of lanterns lit the walkway that the bride had walked down, and even more lanterns in the midst of the clearing of the Forbidden Forest sprawled in several directions.
So many that even as she turned her head to the left and right, Norah couldn't even fucking bloody begin to count how many there were.
The lanterns were a myriad of different colors, ranging from gold to pink, to purple.
Even the trees in their gnarled, twisted trunks did not seem so imposing, Norah thought, barely succeeding in stifling her small smile of surprise.
The trees had been adorned by sparkling ivy in intricate colors and designs, courtesy of Professor McGonagall—colors of yellow and garnet to signify the union of the couple, with Remus Lupin being a former Gryffindor, and Nymphadora Tonks a Hufflepuff.
Above their heads, fireflies of gold and copper floated aimlessly and a perfume that smelled like honeysuckle lingered in bliss.
Norah stood in silence, her body instinctively stiffing as she felt the taller, towering form of Ollie Brennan move to stand beside her, effectively putting her in between himself and Professor Snape, who, she was more than amused to see, for she felt sure that his expression mirrored her inward thoughts, was disinterested and looking thoroughly bored out of his mind, as though he would rather be anywhere else but here watching Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin get married in the Forbidden Forest.
As the ceremony officiated by Albus Dumbledore commenced, Norah found her gaze curiously flitting to Ollie.
As she continued to steal odd little glances of the natural Legilimens and Tonks's best friend in his black dress robes out of the corner of her eye, she felt her lips parched dry.
Ollie's tousled jet-black hair was thick and lustrous, the man's eyes a mesmerizing deep ocean blue, flecks of silvery light seemed to dance throughout.
His face, pale and rather peaky looking, was strong and defined, his features looking like they were molded from granite.
The younger man's dark eyebrows sloped downwards in a slightly serious expression as he sensed the blonde werewolf watching him, and Norah felt a fiery heat creep to her cheeks.
She was sure the kid could see it, though she couldn't manage to pull her gaze away. His usually playful smile had drawn into a somber hard line across his face.
Ollie gave her figure a once over in her long silver dress and smiled at her.
"Nice dress, Jameson. You should wear them more often, you know," he smirked playfully, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in a soft, slightly teasing smile. "People might actually start to think you're a woman if you do," he joked, which earned an outraged look of Norah's and a swift punch to his arm, causing him to stagger backward slightly and rub it in a shock of mock, playful hurting.
Despite that, he didn't stop smiling at her.
His voice was deep, with a serious tone, and Norah stiffened as his hand, slightly rough and calloused from Merlin only knew what, slipped down and latched onto hers as the pair were forced to fall silent as the ceremony commenced, neither one of them wanting to invoke Severus's wrath.
Norah found that she didn't remember much of the ceremony at all as she and Ollie stood side-by-side and watched Remus marry Nymphadora, the finer details wiped clean from her mind.
Perhaps it was due to the raven-haired, tall Legilimens standing at her immediate left—holding my hand—she thought.
A small stab of panic wracked with guilt stabbed at her heartstrings, rendering her feeling as though someone had taken an icy dagger and plunged the tip of it deep into her chest.
These old, foreign feelings she'd not felt since Wes had been alive, felt…wrong.
What she felt for the kid over the last few weeks of their acquaintanceship was…wrong. It just had to be. She had been married.
How in Merlin's Beard could she look at another man in this way?
Norah blinked, swallowing down hard past a growing lump in her throat as she watched Remus pull Tonks close, lowering his face to hers, sealing their marriage with a passionate kiss, such a warm embrace, that Norah could not help but be reminded of the night that she had illegally married Wes, before that bitch had fucked her over hard and taken her husband and their son from her, and she blinked back tears.
Brick by brick, the hardened walls of her heart that she had built around the damned, stubborn corded muscle within the confines of Norah's chest collapsed, crumbling, as she watched Tonks and Lupin embrace, her mind flooded with memories of her husband that she did not want to remember, and yet could not bring herself to dare to forget Wes and Jax's memories, as it was the only thing she had left of her former life.
Norah bit down hard on her tongue, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to leave her bright blue eyes.
And that was when she could no longer hold them back. First, one small crystal bead escaped her right eyelid.
Norah could feel its warmth, sliding down her cheek, and rolling off her chin. Then another. And another. Until her eyes practically flooded with them, coming like a Merlin-damned unrelenting rainfall.
Sniffing every ten seconds, they fall and fall, and Norah let it happen.
Suddenly, Ollie's already-ironclad grip on her hand tightened even further, wrapping around hers, and Norah craned her head up to look at the kid.
Not a kid. An adult. A man and you need to treat him like one, Jameson, she scolded herself, blinking owlishly at the young twenty-six-year-old man who, Norah hated to admit, over these last few weeks of helping Tonks and Remus get through the Forbidden Forest, she'd taken a liking to, with the two of them staying up late, chatting over the bonfire while those two had been sound asleep.
She was, at the very least, relieved to see tears of his own in the man's blue eyes, though Norah knew his were tears of happiness that his best friend had just gotten married, and the kid had noidea the nature of her own wretched tears.
Norah knew that no one could quite hold a candle in her life as Ollie could. Not many adult humans could take on a fully grown centaur with no wand and come out of the encounter mostly unscathed.
And the wizard's gentleness was one of the younger man's most admirable qualities, his kindness unbound.
She drew in a sharp breath as Ollie's mouth tugged upwards in a crooked little half-smile, and he shook his head, reaching up a gentle finger and allowing the pad of his thumb to ghost along the delicate skin of her cheek, brushing away that last tear.
Norah gazed deep into Ollie's eyes, taking in the man's pale blue orbs, his coarse jet-black hair that was going to need a trim before too terribly long, and his surprisingly gentle expression as he held the young blonde werewolf's gaze, his own unabashed and unwavering as he refused to look away first.
Ollie sighed. "Come on," he murmured, dragging her hand the second the crowd dispersed towards the long, wooden rectangular tables McGonagall had conjured, now laden so heavily with delicacies, so many that Norah was certain she had never seen before in her life, that the tables almost sagged with the weight of all the food. "Hogwarts' house-elves really outdid themselves, and if Dumbledore would have gone any slower with officiating, we'd all be dead by now. I'm starving," he said.
Norah snorted and rolled her eyes in response, though as gingerly as she could, she shrugged out of Ollie's grasp and pulled back, biting her bottom lip.
A scattered sigh managed to escape her lips, which she had taken meticulous care to coat with a light pink lip gloss, as her now-free hand moved to the back of her neck that stung at the declaration of even just thinking of Ollie.
Something within her still fought against these feelings that she felt for Brennan. The feelings were light and breathless, but underneath it all, there was something dark stirring within her, this 'wrong' feeling.
It taunted the werewolf.
Norah blinked back the beginnings of salty, briny liquid as she was certain slick tears (and not ones of happiness) would begin to fall from her lids at any given moment, and she wasn't sure she wanted to explain herself to Ollie.
After a moment of deafening silence that caused Jameson to feel as though Time itself had become suspended, and she heard and saw nothing, despite the people moving in droves behind her to help themselves to the food.
Wes, she thought, biting the inside wall of her cheek. I—I wish you were here to tell me what to do. I—I don't want to betray you like this, but I can't…help it. I like him.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hating herself for what she was about to say.
"I—I l—loved you," Norah whispered, her voice dropping lower than she was used to.
This was wrong. It had to be wrong. She could not do this. It wouldn't be fair to Wes's memory, and it certainly would not be fair to Ollie. How could she look at another man like this? What would Wes say?
As the silence around her thickened, a horrible abrupt bitterness settled in the churning pit of her stomach that caused bile to creep its way up into her throat.
"Fuck," she swore angrily, whisper hissing the curse words through gritted teeth. "I—I can't fucking do this anymore, I—I shouldn't even be here, kid…"
Though her voice was low, she was sure the kid hadn't heard her, and sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed as she saw Ollie, clad in his simple black dress robes, turned around and regarded the She-Wolf in a confused manner, his brows furrowing together in contemplation and his lips pursed into a thin, questioning line.
"Norah? Aren't you coming to eat? You haven't eaten anything since this morning," Ollie's quiet voice laced through her biting, desolate thoughts, and the young blonde witch and werewolf blinked, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
"I…th—thank you, Ollie, b—but I'm not hungry," she murmured, grinding her teeth in nervous anticipation.
Since when did she ever fucking stutter? Norah cursed herself, ducking her head and turning away and walking away from Ollie, leaving the poor man stunned, hurt, and confused, to stare after the young blonde as he watched her figure retreat deep into the Forbidden Forest.
Darkness had since set in, and the festivities still continuing to go on strong, and Norah's sense of claustrophobia had not left her, despite disappearing, where she now sought refuge under a gnarled large elm tree.
The need for fresh air and to sit in the silence of the Forest won out and she remained perched on the log, still clad in her long sleeveless silver maxi dress from before, biting down on her bottom lip, one leg folded over the other as her foot restlessly tapped, her wand in her hand, causing a single white lily to burst forth from the tip of her wand and hover in midair, at her eye-level.
Jax and Wes's favorite flower, she thought, blinking back tears. Everything in this new clearing of the Forbidden Forest was laced with the biting cold air.
The bitter air seemed to hang in the clearing, clinging to Norah's exposed arms as her long dress was sleeveless, and the dress's V-neckline plunged lower than she would have normally liked, though Ollie had certainly enjoyed the view, she thought, the same bitterness from earlier creeping into the churning pits of her stomach.
Norah took her free hand not clutching onto her wand and drug it down her face as she tried to rid herself of her anxiousness, though Ollie's handsome face and pale sky-blue orbs that could, in an instant, turn glacier cold when mad, were refusing to part from her thoughts, and she so desperately wanted them to.
She let out a pained gasp and glanced with blurred vision up at the Forest's thick canopy. Like it or not, this place was and always would be…home.
Norah allowed her pale features to contort into a pained, twisted grimace as she fingered the delicate petals of the flower in the outstretched palm of her hand, lowering her wand on the log beside her, where it rested near her thigh.
The young blonde wolf inwardly groaned as she heard his voice. Damn it, she thought through gritted teeth, not even having to look up to see who it was.
"Norah?"
Norah slowly swiveled her head to the manly voice, deep and timorous, hoarse, and rough at times still, from his three-year vow of silence while in captivity to protect Tonks, but rich, smooth, and melodious.
The kind of voice she knew a man ought to have and a familiar tuft of black hair caught her eyes.
"A wedding guest away from the wedding ceremonies. Most unusual. You're missed, Jameson. Why did you run from us?" Ollie said crossly, sounding more than pissed off with her little disappearing act, his arms folded across his chest as the towering former Slytherin was rested against the gnarled bark of a twisted old elm tree.
Norah flinched and slowly rose from her spot on the log, nervously wringing her fingers together and brushing the palms of her hands on the skirts of her dress.
Ollie was glaring at her through the darkness, his normally kind, sky-blue eyes darkening, almost cerulean in color the angrier he became with her.
The young blonde sucked in a breath of frigid air that pained her lungs, thinking that, as the younger wizard strode towards her, looking regal tonight in his set of simple black dress robes, she had never appreciated the term 'phantom' to describe the former Obscurus, this Slytherin who knew the techniques of the Death Eaters, their languid speech and how quickly he moved so fast, he was a blur.
It felt in her mind, too ridiculous a term to describe someone very much alive, and yet as Norah stared into Ollie's bright blue eyes burning with anger, the way his dark shadow towered over her against the waning moonlight streaming behind his back, Norah Jameson could think of no other adequate description.
Ollie's brows furrowed in slight mistrust and suspicion. "Are you deaf?" he barked hoarsely. "I asked you a question. Why did you disappear, Norah?"
Norah felt herself shirk away as Ollie practically snarled at her.
Not out of a sense of fear, but because she was still recovering from his sudden, unexpected appearance and she had not anticipated anyone would find her in her place of solitude on the night of Remus Lupin's marriage to Nymphadora Tonks.
Without giving an immediate answer, Norah painfully wrung her fingers together and glanced down at the skirts of her long silver satin and silk dress blowing in the breeze.
"I—I was just…" she stammered, though Ollie immediately interjected.
And judging by the fathomless, smoldering anger in his eyes, and the clipped, curt tone of his response, he was growing rapidly impatient with her.
"Trying to run away from me, Jameson? From us?" Ollie snarled.
Norah froze, her movements as she attempted to back away from the Legilimens and former Obscurus as she looked up at Ollie in utter astonishment.
His bright blue eyes glinted like pinpricks in the dark of the Forest, his voice dull and lifeless in nature, and his posture, though he stood tall, looked almost…defeated.
And although Ollie stood shrouded in the shadows, rendering Norah unable to see most of the details of his face, she sensed he was not angry with her, but bitter, though she didn't have time to process why this was the case, for the young blonde werewolf quickly dismissed the inaccurate thought on her part, as she waited with bated breath as Ollie Brennan opened his mouth to speak.
"You left without a word. Not to me, not to Tonks or Remus or Snape. I was worried about you," he spat, the bitterness laced throughout his quiet tones.
"I…I'm sorry, Ollie," Norah murmured, only able to offer the man a tiny half-smile of what she hoped came across on her peaky features as genuine reassurance. "I—I just needed some air. I wanted the chance to breathe for a while. It was getting stuffy back there, and I don't do crowds," she finished lamely, biting her bottom lip, and turning her head sharply to her immediate left.
Norah did not speak for what felt like several long moments before her curiosity got the better of her and she slowly turned back around to regard Ollie.
"What are you doing here?" she challenged by way of retort, folding her arms across her chest and wasn't surprised when the only answer she got from the man was a grimaced face as a silent reply. "You should go back there, Ollie. Your presence at your friends' wedding will be missed more than mine will. Go back."
Ollie flinched at the sharpness of the young blonde werewolf's tone as she spoke down to him as though he were a misguided first-year-student and shirked away in both hurt and surprise.
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he hardened his own expression in response to Norah Jameson's aggression and replied in a clipped tone.
"No, Jameson. Not without you. You're just as much a friend to Remus and Dora as I am. They asked after you. Come back with me."
Not giving Norah a chance to respond, he reached out his hand and grasped onto hers, giving it a slight but reassuring squeeze, before bringing her hand to his lips and gently pressing them to her knuckles for a chaste kiss.
Norah halted, surprised at the startling intimacy of the gesture, unable to provide an adequate enough answer to Ollie that would assuage him and offer any kind of consolation as to why she had left.
Ollie had, in many ways now, silently spoken of his new, developing feelings for her through the little glances he stole at her when she thought he wasn't looking, the nature of their conversations by the campfire pit when neither one could sleep, plagued by nightmares and old haunts.
"Ollie, I…" Norah tried to speak, to finally tell him the truth of what happened to her husband and son, though when she attempted to say more than two words to the man, who stood waiting patiently for her explanation, she couldn't.
It felt as though she were being suffocated like there was a gag on her mouth preventing her from speaking.
This continued for a few more seconds.
The look of heartbreak in the man's burning blue eyes was too much.
"I don't need your pity, Ollie, b—but there's…something that I have to tell you, and you need to shut the fuck up for once and listen. I—I should have told you all of this sooner, but I…I just couldn't do it, Ollie, she managed to croak out, at last, noticing his silence.
Ollie froze, looking startled by her outburst, furrowing his brows in a frown. "I wasn't offering any, not unless you give me a reason to, Norah."
Ollie felt his brows furrow in concern as he could not help but notice how skittish the young blonde werewolf suddenly looked, as she bit the bottom corner of her lip in order to alleviate some of the twistings and churning she felt in the pit of her stomach, and she had a habit of nervously reaching up a hand and tucking a lock of her golden-blonde pixie cut, stray wisps of her hair, back behind the contour of her ear where they rightfully belonged.
"What's wrong, Norah?"
Norah shook her head in protest. "N—nothing's wrong, Ollie," she snapped, wincing at the curtness of her tone, looking away and out at the Forest, her nervousness swelling to an almost insurmountable level within her chest. "It's…about me, actually, a—and my past. Wes. My Jax," she murmured lowly.
Ollie stilled his movements, his hand squeezing onto Norah's as he had reached out and caught hers in midair the moment she made to move her hand away from her ear and squeezed onto it tightly.
Never before had another wizard's name sounded like such a Merlin-damned curse.
And what was even worse was the way the man's name sounded on her lips. Oh, he knew her husband was dead.
Though he did not know the details, the way that Norah had cried his name just now with such anguish caused an inexplicable boiling of the blood within his veins to curdle and churn hotter than any dragon fire could ever flame.
He curled his hands even tighter around Norah's, not even hearing the young blonde's sharp, pained little gasp as he did not realize his own strength.
Ollie was quick to decide he did not like the look of shock and concern on the blonde werewolf's face, and nor did he especially like the way her features paled as she took in his angered expression. He could feel his eyes darken in ire.
Though he felt the worst of his jealousy tamper down the minute he blinked and took in how pale and pallid Norah Jameson's features had become.
And she was shaking. Badly.
"Norah," he began hesitantly, trying in some way, shape, or form, to give her comfort, though he didn't know what to say or do that would make her feel better. The She-Wolf looked so vulnerable, broken.
Like him, in a way, he supposed. The two of them had bought lost so much, over and over again, and yet, here they both stood, their hearts had been broken and put back together so many times, it was a wonder they still felt at all.
His heart tightened to the point where it almost became unbearable. He did not like the fact that her deceased husband after all this time could still cause such a reaction out of her, and he had been hoping to get her alone tonight and ask if the two of them could officially date if Norah was even interested in him.
Ollie did not want to see Norah so upset and worried over what he would think. He forced himself to breathe in and out a few shaking breaths.
Norah continuously bit at her lip, fidgeting with her fingers as she took a seat back on the log that she had perched herself on top of, her skittish bright blue eyes looking at anywhere but at him.
Whatever had happened to Norah's husband and son, it hadn't been good and still continued to eat away at her.
Yet, the urge to discover what had happened so that he could understand won out, in the end. Ollie needed to know the truth.
"Will you tell me the truth?"
This time, Norah did look at him, sanguinely lifting her head, jutting out her chin slightly, forcing herself, albeit reluctantly to meet Ollie's piercing gaze.
There was such a look of melancholia, heartbreak, and anguish, that he did not think he could bear it.
Norah nodded, exhaling a shuddering little breath, though she did not relinquish Ollie's grip on her hand, for which he was grateful.
Norah nodded and launched into her tale of how she met her husband, how she had saved Wes's life during their sixth year of Hogwarts from a group of Ravenclaws and Slytherins tormenting the young man once they learned he was a werewolf, humiliating the man by parading him around the halls in a collar and leash, pelting him with bits of raw meat they'd stolen from the kitchens. They married soon after that once they graduated, though Umbridge eventually found out.
The two of them failed to register for the Werewolf Legislation Act that the bitch had passed, and somehow, Dolores found out about it and had visited the Jameson home under the guise of pretending to care about their welfare.
When it was in actuality, it could not have been further from the truth. Her little house-call that night had intended to punish Norah for failing to come forward.
Dolores had Auror Albert Runcorn torture and kill her Wes first, and then she had taken her then-three-year-old son Jack outside, Norah dragged outside by the pair of Aurors that had accompanied her, and the bitch had made Norah watch as Dolores spoke to her son in her falsely honeyed sweet tones, just enough to quiet the distraught little boy and stop his screaming, before she had become irritated by the lack of the child's cooperation as he squirmed within her grasp, attempting to reach Norah, and in a fit of anger, had taken the boy's head in her own two hands and bashed the boy's skull against the trunk of an oak tree.
The back of his skull shattered on contact, her son's blood, his life force, staining the ground beneath his feet, and Umbridge had spat on her son's corpse.
He had died instantly, and Dolores Jane Umbridge and the pair of Aurors had vanished almost immediately after that, leaving Norah alone with the bodies of her husband and three-year-old son, so cruelly taken from her before their lives as a family unit had even officially started.
And with that, Norah finished her tale.
Tears welled from her eyes and slid down her pale cheeks as she turned her head to the side once and coughed.
"I—I'm sorry," she wailed, clenching her hands in her lap, and bowing her head low, whispering the words through gritted teeth and keeping her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I—I told Remus and Tonks the truth earlier. A week ago. I—I should have told you sooner, but I…just couldn't."
"She…" Ollie's voice broke as it cracked and trailed off as he sat next to Norah on the log, rooted to his spot and unable to move, his bright blue eyes glistening with tears of his own as he stared at Norah, though not really seeing the young blonde woman before him.
The shock of her story was entirely too much.
He did not want to believe Norah's words as the truth, yet, he knew just by looking into the witch's glistening blue eyes brimming bright with tears, not even having to use his skills as a Legilimens to probe her mind to know she had told him the truth just now.
Now he understood why she had left the wedding. Seeing Remus and Tonks so in love reminded her of her husband, of things she would rather soon forget.
He understood it now.
"She killed them."
Norah watched Ollie's darkened blue eyes widen, and the young She-Wolf slowly pursed her lips as she took in the sight of her friend who she suspected was beginning to harbor those same feelings for her that she was for him, and she did not know what to do.
Her face remained apathetic, her tears now long spent, though she sniffed once or twice to quell the lump swelling and forming in her throat.
Ollie stared at the young blonde, wanting to say something to comfort her after hearing the tragic demise of her husband and son, but suddenly, his jaw had locked itself as tears fell in rapid sequence as they spilled down his cheeks.
He wracked his brain, searching for words, trying hard to open his mouth, chewing on his tongue as he took a cautious half-step towards Norah.
Before he could think about stopping himself, he wrapped an arm around Norah's shoulders and pulled the witch close, gently rubbing her arm, his hands lingering on her waist as he rested his chin on top of her short blonde hair.
Despite the heaviness and churning feeling in the pit of her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against Ollie's, Norah thought.
She sunk into the warmth of the tall man's side, appreciative of the simple gesture.
His touch made the Forbidden Forest warmer somehow, her future within it seeming a little less bleak.
Norah shoved aside thoughts of Wes for now, not wanting to ruin the moment with Ollie by becoming consumed with thoughts of Wes.
Norah let a shudder journey up and down her back as she felt the man's fingers coil in her blonde pixie, absently playing with a few of the golden strands.
He let the strands go, Ollie's palm slowly drifting downward and gliding across her right cheek.
Norah flushed, her cheeks turning pink, high with color as she lowered her lashes as her blue eyes followed the trail Ollie's hand made of her.
Ollie took a hesitant step backward. If this was ever the moment where he had truly wanted to kiss her, to test her feelings for him to see if Norah Jameson felt the same that he did for her over these last few weeks, it was now.
Though his courage failed him, in the end. He deflated and stepped back, though her hand quickly shot out and rested above Ollie's heart, and he froze.
Ollie knew he never wanted Norah to feel his heart's pounding pulses.
He had never wanted the werewolf to know that she had the ability to cause his knees to go weak and his breaths to catch in his throat, just by looking at her beauty. Norah said nothing, merely looked at the younger man in amazement.
However, before Ollie could offer some words of solace as his embrace tightened, wrapping the young blonde werewolf in a warm swaddle of his chest and arms.
Norah knew she did not want to leave. It felt as though this moment in Ollie Brennan's arms, all her pain went away—mental, physical, depressive.
All of it, just…gone. There was something so warm, something that felt right, smelt right. She let her body sag; her muscles become loose. He gave her the respect of an equal but cradled her like a cherished child.
In that embrace she felt her worries lose their keen sting and her optimism raise its head from the dirt.
Perhaps the hope had been there all along, but without love, it was trapped, like crystals in a stone. She felt him brush her hair back with his fingers.
If only she could stay in his arms forever, safe from the world's harmful people. One could only hope, but then she remembered what she was.
A wolf. A monster. A horrible, wretched beast that would only put Ollie's life in danger if she were to stay with him.
Norah let out a sigh and pulled away reluctantly, turning her back on Ollie, trying to ignore the pained look in his eyes.
"Don't," Norah whispered in a faint voice as she started to walk out of the Forbidden Forest's clearing and followed the sound of faint laughter and music to head back to the wedding party. "I don't need to hear it, Ollie. Please. Don't."
"At least you should know." Ollie's voice was faint, causing Norah to turn around and look at him, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat.
Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from Ollie's, knowing if she continued to stare deep into the man's ocean-blue eyes, she would lose herself, and then she would drown.
She did not need his words in that husky voice of his that chilled her and made her feel like everything was going to be fine in her fucked up life.
Ollie Brennan was the new friend in her life that she had not asked for, was everything in a potential partner that Norah knew she did not want to end up with, but right then, just the statement uttered from his lips were enough to cancel her ideologies, to challenge everything that she ever believed in, and steal her heart.
Norah stepped back, halting only once to look over her shoulder, realizing the mistake she had made in her self-isolation, her wanted seclusion by coming here, as her wolfish hearing picked up at the sound of Tonks calling for Norah and Ollie, beginning to walk back towards the wedding party with a single thought that she dared not voice aloud, because she knew Ollie could already hear it.
I already do. "Ollie," she called back, surprised at how hardened her voice was.
She felt Ollie tilt his head though she dared not let herself look back.
Though Norah's wolfish hearing picked up on the signal that he was listening as she heard the man let out a frustrated groan as his footsteps came nearer, signaling to the young blonde werewolf that he was following her back.
She took in a deep breath, steeling her nerves, hardly daring to believe what she was about to say, though she knew that Ollie needed to hear her words.
"You know that I would love you, Ollie," Norah sighed, her conscience feeling weighed down, as if there were two blocks of stone on her shoulders as she continued speaking to Ollie in a low murmur, not wanting to meet his eyes. "If only I could. But you can do so much better than a werewolf like me, Ollie. And you should."
Ollie gave himself a moment to let Norah's words sink into his mind as he silently followed her back.
He turned his head to where she was leading him, feeling his very footsteps vibrate with sound as his boots stepped on twigs and fallen leaves of the forest floor as the pair of them rejoined the festivities and tried to play off like nothing happened when Lupin and Tonks approached them both.
Ollie's mind felt like it was reeling, and he wasn't even aware that his legs were no longer taking directions from his mind, or his hands, for that matter, as he, filled with a newfound sense of determination to enjoy at least one night in the wolf's company, dragged a reluctant Norah almost kicking him to the dance floor that Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore had conjured for the newlyweds.
His throat ached as perhaps against her better judgment, Norah allowed Ollie to dance with her, pulling her close, cutting off the gap of space as they swayed gently to the rhythm, her head leaning against his chest, her chin resting on top of her hair, ignoring the pointed looks Lupin and Tonks shot them.
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to ignore the thoughts of disgust and pity he held for himself, knowing that he would never truly experience the love of a good woman if Norah was so pointedly rejecting him, but he had to try.
He wanted to try to prove to the werewolf that she was bloody wrong, that if Lupin and Tonks could marry, then there was no viable reason why the two of them couldn't date.
Though as they danced, Ollie felt like he had no choice. No other choice available to him but to accept that love was as strong as death.
Slowly falling for Norah Jameson was the easy part. It was admitting to himself that it had happened that was the hard part for Ollie Brennan to accept.
Falling in love with her was like entering a house and finally realizing he was home. When Norah smiled at him, Ollie felt invisible hands wrapping around him, making him feel safe.
When her eyes were locked on his, it was like he could see galaxies instead of just pupils. Having the werewolf in his life made him feel like everything's possible in this world like Ollie could conquer anything.
He did not regret meeting Norah Jameson this late into his adult life, and Ollie knew she might not be his first love, as there would be a part of him that would always love Tonks, but what Ollie really wished in life is for Norah Jameson to be his last.
