Song Suggestion: Fauzia- "You Don't Even Know Me" (Stripped)

Tangled Vines

Katie opened an outdoor storage shed. The elves were busy cleaning the great hall, and she decided to start taking inventory instead of tracking them all down, picking out what needed to go and what could stay. Outside seemed the least intimidating place to start. The clouds hung low, grey and murky, about to rain. The air felt like strolling through a cloud, dew suspended, as she walked thought the gardens, charming her boots to repel mud.

The first shed held garden tools. She struggled to open it but finally wrenched it loose. A few rogue gnomes popped up and scattered. Most of the equipment looked centuries old, no longer useful. She made a note about updating the shed and contents and left.

When she walked around the bend, she saw an overgrown full-sized quidditch pitch, vines creeping up the poles. She stared at the field in longing. It had been years since she'd seen a pitch, and it gave her visceral memories: holding on to her broom, racing through the air, wind striking against her cheek.

Beside the pitch was another shed. Someone kept up with this one. She opened it to find a nice selection of brooms and quidditch supplies. Katie ran her hand over the wooden poles. It felt like agony being this close to something she loved but unable to partake.

Maybe…

No, she couldn't. She might be working for the estate, but she didn't have the right to use his things. As she counted and wrote down what the shed contained, Katie kept glancing back to the brooms.

One stood out from the rest: top-of-the line, the newest edition of the Firebolt, sleek and beautiful. In the muggle world, it would be on par with the most expensive cars. It probably cost more than a normal house and must slice through the air, faster than sound. Marcus Flint loved the game just as much as she did—loved it so much he worked in the games department for the ministry, organizing the World cup. It hurt Flint landed her dream job, when he had so much money, he didn't even need it. They probably begged him to take it based on his last name. She'd taken the job at Gringott's right after school, but she never loved it. Numbers and math came easy to her, but her first true love was quidditch.

She studied the broom. The jealousy and longing built in her until she made a foolish choice and picked up the broom, groaning with the feeling of it in her hand.

Marcus was at the ministry. She wasn't sure how long he'd be there. Hermione was with Draco, doing who knows what with the blond git. Only the elves could tell on her. And maybe, if she was quick enough, they wouldn't see either.

Without thinking it through, Katie followed instinct. She walked outside, straddled it, and took off. She gave a whoop as she flew, unable to stop her exclamation of joy. Every cell in her body flared to life, buzzing through her. It was better than getting drunk. It might be better than sex.

Katie zipped through the low clouds, giving barrel rolls, and dives, pulling every trick she remembered. Her body responded, using deep muscle knowledge, reflexes still trained for the quick movements.

Ten minutes into flying, and Katie didn't want to come back down. It had been years since she'd felt so free, so alive. Years since she experienced such pure joy.

It began to rain—gentle, fat droplets that slid down her arms. Instead of going back down, she hovered in the air. She flung back both arms, face to the heavens, welcoming the cleanse. It took a moment before she realized tears mixed with the rain. She tried to stop, but she couldn't. She kept her arms outstretched as she sobbed. Being in the air brought a relief so sharp, it overwhelmed her.

Feeling foolish, she wiped her tears, deciding it was time to fly back down before anyone saw.

She turned the broom toward the shed and stopped.

Marcus Flint stood in an open turret, staring at her. His black cloak floated behind him with the wind, looking like the pureblood Lord he was born to be. He looked just as wet as her, which meant he'd been there for a while. He was too far away to read his expression.

His broom must have charms on it that alerted the owner if it had been touched. He'd probably left work just to chastise her. Her heart beat hard with fear from being caught, fear from being trapped by his hard, intense stare like a bug in a display case, wings spread and pinned.

How long had he been staring at her? Did he watch her joy, her agony? Anger formed in her at him seeing something so private and personal.

Was he angry she took a ride on his broom without asking?

Katie broke the stare, turning the broom away and racing back down. She put the Firebolt back in its spot with shaking fingers.

Her workday didn't end for several hours, but she couldn't stay here any longer. She didn't want to hear Marcus Flint berate her for using his broom, mock her love, not when she just found her joy again. She might kill him.

She had to get home, even if it meant getting fired.

Not wasting time, she ran back into the castle, grabbed her things, and went through the floo before she could see his fluttering cloak again.

Katie

Katie woke up to an owl scratching at her window. It sounded frantic. She hurried over and unlatched the window pushing it out so the owl could get through. It struggled under the weight of a giant package. The only reason it was able to maneuver it in was because it was a giant Eurasian owl—the expensive kind that liked to nip fingers if not given treats. Knowing that, Katie handed over a piece of jerky she kept for such occasions.

The bird gave a hoot of thanks and took off. Katie turned around and stared at the package with trepidation. She wasn't expecting anything, especially from someone with a Eurasian owl, but she decided quickly if she feared a simple package then she should retire her Gryffindor badge of honor.

Katie picked up the brown packaging, letting it fall away.

She gasped, unable to comprehend what she held. Katie sat down in shock, Sampson curling at her feet.

A Firebolt—the new version with a pale wooden base and straight, even bristles. There was a delicate rose vine pattern etched along the handle, clearly made for a woman. Her hands shook as she stroked along its edges in reverence.

She searched the packaging for a note or a hint to who sent it but got nothing. The owl must have taken it to the wrong address. She searched the package more thoroughly and found her name scrawled in thin letters on the side.

Who could have sent a Firebolt?

Who could have afforded it?

Her mind already arrived at a conclusion, but it was too unbelievable. It didn't seem real.

She thought he'd be mad she touched his broom… not buy her one of her own.

I'd spoil you. His words, spoken long ago, echoed in her mind. Was this what he meant? Did he want an arrangement?

Katie's hands trembled. If she accepted this, did she accept his advances? She hated herself, but when she thought of his hard stare on the turret, rain flattening his dark hair in the distance, she wasn't as disgusted as she should be.

Something about Marcus felt familiar, and she couldn't quite place it. Like she walked in a dream. She just couldn't decide if it was a nightmare or not.

She'd never be able to give up the broom. How could she? It would be like tearing out an essential artery. This broom cost more than she'd ever be able to pay, especially in the current job market.

She lost her pride long ago. If Marcus wanted her in his bed for a night in exchange for the firebolt, then she might just give it to him.

Katie

Zala hesitated at the entrance to Azkaban, and Katie stood by her holding her hand. She wore her hair in her signature tiny braids, but she had them twisted into a magnificent updo. A yellow dress contrasted with her dark skin, making her look like some goddess. Beside her, Katie felt a little frumpy.

"I hope Athena isn't scared I'm not there."

Katie gave a little snort.

"I don't think that girl is afraid of anything. You named her appropriately."

Athena was a tiny terror, like a little wasp, leaving chaos in her wake.

After Hermione heard Zala needed a fast babysitter, she contacted Narcissa Malfoy of all people. Zala received an owl inviting Athena to her primary magical school, a permanent offer if she wanted. Zala was hesitant, since she'd never left her anywhere, but the Manor's backyard was insane, and Athena was already climbing the castle and chasing Teddy with a toy sword before Zala could pull her back.

"What if he doesn't want me anymore?"

Katie rolled her eyes.

"Are we talking about the same man?"

"You're right," she said. "It's just been so long."

After the final battle, Thorfinn was sentenced to eight years in Azkaban. He was getting out on parole a few years early based on good behavior. Zala got the owl the day before with no time to prepare. Like she promised, she didn't visit him until the day he'd get out.

After going through security, they walked the hallways. Distant screams echoed in the dark hallways, and Zala jumped with each one. The dementors were gone, but they left a slimy residue behind.

"What if he's not…sane?" Zala whispered, talking low enough the guard leading them couldn't hear.

"Then we'll heal him." Katie said, but it sounded a little weak. They both knew sometimes Azkaban twisted people in wrong, permanent ways.

"The reunification room is right here," the guard said. Zala's hand trembled in hers, but she raised her chin and walked in.

Thorfinn stood, looking out the window. He was thinner than he used to be, blond hair long and tangled, eyes with dark circles, but nothing could diminish a man as giant as Thorfinn Rowle.

He grasped the windowsill, as if to steady himself.

"Zala…" The single word came out raspy, like a prayer. "Somehow you're more beautiful than I remember."

Zala made a noise that sounded like a cry.

"You stupid brute! I told you to make your sentence a pittance. It's been—It's been too long."

He gave a laugh. It sounded funny, as if he didn't do it much.

And then they both broke. Zala rushed forward and Thorfinn did too. They collided, and Zala wrapped her legs around the blond giant. One hand held the back of her head to him, giving a brutal kiss, the other pressed the middle of her back to him.

"My dove," he said when he pulled back to stare at her face. "I won't leave your side ever again. You'll be quite annoyed in a few weeks when you can't even take a shower without me."

Katie let that be her cue to quietly exit, because his hands began to wander, and she knew it might quickly get a little rated R. The door closed behind her, and she sent a silencing spell. The guard stood outside and raised an eyebrow, and Katie shrugged her shoulders.

Katie

It took thirty minutes for them to exit. Zala's hair was down now, lipstick smeared, though she tried to fix it, and she wore a sated expression. Thorfinn walked beside her with his hand on the middle of her back. Zala wobbled a little, and he righted her. He walked with his familiar swagger again, something even Azkaban couldn't take from him.

"Katie," he greeted with a nod.

"Thorfinn," she said. And then the brute gathered her up in a big bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground. Katie gave a squeak in alarm.

"You're forever in my debt for taking care of both my girls."

He set her back down with a hard pat to her shoulder. The Rowle estate had been locked, so Zala couldn't access it, since they weren't married, leaving Zala in a precarious position. Madam Malkin's let her keep her old job, but times were tough. Katie sent her any extra money she could find and watched Athena on a regular basis.

"No problem," she said.

"Are you needing anything? Whatever you want, I can provide."

"Thanks," Katie said, a little touched by the offer, though she refused to mooch off her friends. "But I'm already working at the Flint estate."

Thorfinn's face contorted into funny shapes. She thought it might be suppressed amusement.

"So the wanker finally got the courage to tell you? I told him you wouldn't mind. But he's a crazy motherfucker. He'd have burned the world to keep you safe."

Katie froze.

"What are you talking about?"

A chill ran up her spine.

Thorfinn seemed to understand he made a grave mistake.

"Bloody hell," he said. "He didn't tell you, did he? Merlin… don't tell him I told you, or he'll gut me."

"But he… died."

Thorfinn hesitated, looking guilty. Zala came forward and touched her arm, but Katie felt numb.

"McGonagall…" She shifted through what she remembered of her odd statement standing outside the room. "She lied… because she felt she owed him a debt. She tried to warn me."

Katie stumbled back, almost tripping.

Marcus Flint was her Death Eater.

And he was alive.

Green eyes, dark hair, silver mask. Now that she knew, it all stripped away leaving a clear picture of her school bully.

Katie gripped her stomach.

"Katie…" Zala looked worried.

"I'm sorry, Bell. I thought you knew."

Katie shook her head, tears starting to gather in her eyes, and ran.