Two days later Dennis sat in The Potion Room, a small quasi-bistro used only by magi. It resided on Coopers Lane near the intersection of Chenies Place within a short walking-distance of the London St. Pancras International railway station. The sound of trains arriving and departing made the building thrum. It offered a perfect environment to sit, drink coffee, and read or study since the constant drone of rail traffic made conversation rather difficult. Dennis discovered the bistro by accident when he got his directions muddle and found himself on the opposite side of King's Cross Station in the fall of the previous year.
The Potion Room looked like a coffee house from the outside for all intents and purposes, but the menu board on the inside revealed exactly to whom it catered. As such, muggles blithely walked past the entrance as though the establishment did not exist. For them it did not. The interior got decorated with ten small tables where two people could sit and eat. Most contained a single person otherwise engrossed in a personal activity. The waitstaff would periodically arrive to ask for any further orders. Dennis quickly learned he could stay as long as he wanted if he ordered the occasional sandwich, paid for a steady stream of coffee, and left a little something on the side for the waitstaff. Fortunately, The Potion Room did not charge and exorbitant fee for refills. Dennis often found himself jittery and vibrating when he left the café.
The interior stood paneled in dark wood that gleamed from the multitude of candles floating about. The wooden floor dutifully announced both foot and train traffic. The black-stained tables with padded wooden chairs of the same color hid the occasional spill. Although a wizarding wireless station played in the background, no one could really hear it. Thus, Dennis sat happily ensconced while pouring through a book on Irish history and the most haunted areas in the country. Given the proximity to Galway, Dennis did not find difficult to believe Maigh Cuilinn made the list and generally because Lord Campbell used the area quite a bit. Maigh Cuilinn saw its fair share of horrors over the centuries, and what Dennis read about the French activities galled him. It placed the Irish struggles for independence from Britain in a better context. Hence, the fact Ireland became famed for banshees surprised no one.
"Mind if I take a sit?" A voice inquired loud enough to be heard and broke the reading spell.
"What? Who… ah," Dennis loudly mumbled and glanced around.
A wizard of middle age stood next to the table. Dressed in the odd assortment of clothing peculiar to magical kind, mainly a mix of fashion from at least five separate eras, did not seem out of place. The bright yellow bowler, however, did make a distinct impression. Dennis reached out and pulled his notebooks closer to himself as well as the other volume he intended on perusing.
"Yeah, sure. No bother," he stated as per the custom of The Potion Room.
"Thank you," the man said and took a seat. He set his obscenely large coffee cup on the table.
The café used bowl-sized cups to minimize the number of times they needed to visit any one patron.
"Taking an interest in Ireland now, are you?" The now table-mate queried in the barely audible range.
"What? This? Yeah, never realized how much different Ireland is from Britain. Kind of amazing how much royal fighting went on over there. We're like the worst neighbors imaginable," Dennis answered without taking his eyes off the book before him. He modulated his voice volume without conscious thought.
"Wouldn't let too many people hear you say that 'round London. Something about the palace being close by and all that."
Dennis chuckled at the response. He lapsed into silence and centered his attention on his reading. Common custom dictated his new compatriot would take the hint and leave him to his activity. The younger wizard nearly attained his railway movement ignorant status.
"But I'm not awfully surprised to hear you say that given how you figured out the death of the Earl of Nottingham."
Dennis' head popped up and he eyed the man. He stayed his hand from reaching for his wand since dueling in a public place generally got frowned upon and the Ministry imposed harsh punishments for unwarranted infractions. Across from him the man dressed in what looked like a tuxedo shirt covered over with a plaid jacket straight from the 1970s vied to take attention away from the yellow bowler. Dark eyes studied him where they rested in a slightly pudgy face with unshaven developing jowls. Thick sideburns of coarse brown hair mixed with a few strands of gray raced down either cheek. Humor seemed completely absent for the moment.
"Come now, Mister Creevey, surely you didn't expect everyone to ignore you? Word of your deeds regarding the late earl traveled much further than you'd think. Plus, it's no secret now you inherited quite a number of items from him for the services you rendered," his now threatening-in-a-non-threatening manner table guest said as if reporting on the latest quidditch match.
"Who are you?" Dennis hissed.
"Me? No one important, but my employer…. Now there is someone deserving of respect, and he and his family have taken an interest in you and your recent good fortune."
"And who is your employer?"
"On a need-to-know basis, and you only need to know if you are agreeable to conducting some business," the stated so as to be heard.
"Not interested. I've sold off what Lord North didn't need seeing as he's a ghost. The rest is… sentimental," Dennis explained in a seeming off-handed manner in the hopes the man would leave him be in peace.
"Ah, but the fact you have a vault at Gringott's would argue otherwise seeing as it's not just a holding account for your wages earned from Rapid Removal. A person only needs a vault when he… or she decides to keep personal items safe," the unnamed intruder rejoined. "Could it be Lord North bequeathed you some items that you'd rather keep hid?"
Dennis became very nervous. The man apparently knew quite a bit about him. It put Dennis at a significant disadvantage. He narrowed his eyes and debated when he should reach for his wand. Laws or no, the man all but announced himself as a serious threat.
"You may not know this, but the nineth Earl of Nottingham kept the interest of a number of his peers, and mainly for the suddenness of his death. It led to questions not spoken in the open, Mister Creevey, and now those questions are being asked again. Time, as you probably figured out by now, is not entirely relevant in this situation."
"What do you want?" Dennis hissed the question.
"Very little, truth be told," the man said to him and sounded bored. "Information mostly. For example, what did Lord North's private study hold? The keepers of Wollacott Hall were very surprised to suddenly find a new room they previously overlooked… for two centuries. Seems wonderfully mysterious how it just appeared clean and empty… like magic."
"Yeah, alright. Lord North told me how to access the room. He also told me he wanted to me to have what was in there for breaking the silencing curse and helping his daughter find him. I've got witnesses who can tell you as much, so it's all legal," the younger man stammered out his response.
"Oh, we know it's legal. Lord North got questioned by the Aurors' Office regarding that transaction, and he refused to rescind it in favor of national interest. Quite interesting that, don't you think?" The man queried and tilted his head. The hat did not budge. "Now why would someone as important as a former Earl of Nottingham give such personal mementos to someone like you: a nothing gay kid who spent more time with ghosts than people? Doesn't quite add up, does it?"
"It does when you consider no one helped him for two and half centuries. He stood there out on that cliff silenced by a curse and suffered, and no one lifted a finger to help him 'til I did. Lord North is my friend now, and I don't like what you're implying!"
A few heads turned their way when Dennis' voice rose above the normal acceptable level. Dennis nodded his apology to several people and then aimed a frown at the man. He got knowing sympathetic looks in return. Order seemed restored in the café.
"I'm not implying anything, Dennis. I'm just asking the obvious questions," the man countered and toyed with the cup still filled with cooling coffee. "You better start asking the same questions if you're smart. You're clever, I'll give you that, but smart? Not too sure on that count. Did you ever wonder why he so securely locked his study so nobody could find it?"
"All the time, and I discussed it with him. It's not hard to figure out a peer of the realm who could use magic was going to cause issues… be an issue. Lord North knew that. It makes sense, then, for him to keep private what needs to be private. His room was a place for him to practice and study his abilities… his magic. What's so hard to understand about that?" Dennis countered the question.
"You're only scratching the surface, kid, but that's all academic now. The real question is about what he hid in that room, and you're the only one who has the answer. We saw some of the items you sold, and those were not just simple magic trinkets. The Earl practiced some serious magic, and he was connected to a long-established wizarding family through his mother. Are you so daft you can't put the pieces together?"
Dennis narrowed his eyes. His brain began to tell him he needed to shut his mouth and not reveal anything further. However, his brain also wanted to keep the man talking. Although he found most of what the man said disturbing, it disturbed because of what it implied. Thus, Dennis wanted to hear more. His mouth agreed with his brain, and he pressed his lips together.
"Hmm," the man hummed while narrowing. "We're not asking for a lot, Dennis: just a list of the items you took from his, ah, study. We need to understand the historical placement of the ninth earl. He was far more powerful than he let on, both as a peer and wizard. Ever find it odd he got murdered by a wizard hired by muggles? Now, why would those two sides band together to take down one man? Hmm?"
Dennis ransacked his brain looking for an appropriate answer, and then words spoken within the last few minutes came to his rescue when he said: "I know a lot more about Lord North's history, and everything I found out is on a need-to-know basis… and you don't need to know. So, good day to you, sir."
"Don't be rash, Dennis!"
"I said good day, or would you rather have me call over the management?"
The man fell silent and threw hexes at Dennis with his eyes. Dennis, for his part, suspected the man expected him to fold and reveal everything he knew. He met the focused gaze evenly and did not flinch. A long-standing association with a poltergeist taught Dennis some measure of self-control. In a metaphorical sense, he could feel his unwanted table-mate trying to throw an object at the back of his head. Although his nerves felt drawn as tight as a piano string and he wanted to giggle the tension away, Dennis maintained his composure.
"You sure you want it to go about it like this?" The man hissed.
"I said good day," Dennis coolly retorted.
"Have it your way, but don't say you weren't warned. This could've been easy and painless."
Dennis lowered his head and fixed his eyes on the page that now appeared a jumbled mess to him. After about ten seconds, the sounds of chair feed scudding over the floor reached his ears. The table shifted a little. Dennis refused to glance upward and stayed locked in place. He stayed motionless when footfalls began to recede from where he sat. Dennis waited until the front door open and closed, leaving a wash of cold air to roll over his feet. The young wizard shuddered.
A half hour later saw Dennis packing his materials away. An obscenely large cup of coffee sat untouched on the other side of the table. He thought it a waste since The Potion Room made a good brew in his estimation. The short exchange with the unknown man left Dennis unnerved and unable to complete his reading. Moreover, a disconcerting notion he sat exposed to any would-be assailant refused to be dismissed from his mind. Old Hogwarts habits rose to the fore while he stood. Dennis glanced around the room and surveyed the current raft of patrons. Some he recognized from previous visits, and he wondered if they acted as spies. Even more ridiculous notions began to enter his head. An inkling nonsense would take over prompted him to act. He neatly folded into the nether and launched himself toward a new destination.
"Certainly thou must take cautions," Peeves said while circling lazily around the observation room of the Astronomy Tower. The cloudy day left the room empty, so Dennis took advantage of the moment to get counsel from, he admitted, a slightly less than reliable source. "Your world is filled to brimming with all manner of villainous types."
The poltergeist snickered, and Dennis realized the ghostly man included himself in that description.
"But should I talk to Thomas about this? I have… questions," Dennis asked again.
Peeves floated downward and stopped to hover before Dennis' face in a pose that made it look as though he reclined on a settee. Mischief danced in his eyes. However, the living person knew the dead one would only tease him so far. The poltergeist enjoyed tormenting everyone, even friends, but he did seem to possess some notion of his limitations even though he did not always abide by them.
"Need I remind thee, Snot, that questions lead to further questions? What, perchance, wouldst thou do if you learned your beloved earl to be a man with an unscrupulous character hid behind his finery and manners?"
"Then he fooled his daughter, Peeves."
"What if she is nothing more than a consort and accomplice to his foul deeds?"
The poltergeist began to spin midair like he got turned on a roasting spit. His laughter ricocheted between the stone buttresses. Dennis sat huddled in the somewhat warmer air rolling along the lower quarter of the room. It made observing the stars and sun tolerable on cold or frigid days. The young wizard realized he did not know who replenished the charm. Many of the daily, mundane activities of the school passed beneath his radar when he studied at the school.
"Have you even met Lady Hughes? Lucia is a walking definition of genteel," Dennis refuted the accusation.
"I have taken time to get acquainted with his lordship and his issue. Thou clearly made allies of them, Weavy Creevey. You also roused the spirits of this castle with expectations beyond thy abilities. Look now at how you flounder with the Mother of the Fen quandary. Hast thou yet made any progress?" Peeves continued to supply both advice and taunts, and sorting the grit from the grain took nuanced handiwork.
"Actually, some. Like I told you last time: the banshee in Parkowen isn't a banshee. I'm still waiting on you to arrange another talk with her, so don't go accusing me of floundering around… you fish out of water!"
The poltergeist exploded into a new round of laughter. He slowly stopped revolving in circles as his crowing chortle began to subside. Eventually, Peeves floated as though lying on his stomach, and he kicked up his legs at the knees in a seeming pose for a Francois Boucher painting. He batted his eyes and put on a coy demeanor.
"Such clever words," Peeves sighed in apparent appreciation. "I may yet make a wordsmith of thee."
"You? Right," Dennis droned. He shifted around on his slightly cooled bottom. The floor stones could not be called soft.
"But to your greater question, Snot, dost you really wish to know more? If my long memory serves me justly, I recall the name of an unwanted spell resides in thy skull. What other morsels of discontent do you wish to harbor in thy mind?"
"So, you're saying I shouldn't ask?"
"Nay! Nay!" Peeves shouted, and then he let loose with a steam of sentences in his native tongue Dennis could not understand since none spoke it for at least eight hundred years, but could hear the insult in each one.
During the verbal outburst, the ghost tumbled in the air until he assumed a cross-legged sitting position. He drifted lower until his rump hovered just above the warmer mass of air. Peeves did not seem to like warm air.
"I merely state what you seldom wish to consider, and that is knowledge ofttimes is accompanied by pain. Ignorance is bliss as some would have it, but it is a mean and meager cloak that cannot deflect the spear and sword of truth. It cannot shield thee from the cudgel you call life. Knowledge, while agonizing, is in itself a measure of protection," the ghost stated in his oddly revolving lexicon.
"I have no idea what you're trying to tell me," Dennis confessed and sighed.
"Simply that knowledge requires a cost both in time and a sense of comfort. The lies and fabrications which we convince ourselves to be true fall to dust in the face of real truth if one is honest and accepting of it, and only the stalwart are able to withstand the tumult it can induce. Look to your own history, Creevey, to mark my words. How easy hast thy days become since that on which your heart settles became known?"
Dennis flinched. Peeves knew him, and it showed in the words he used like a battering ram. Moreover, the young wizard felt a dire warning he might learn facts about Thomas that would disabuse him of his current perception of the man. Peeves started to giggle in a nasty manner.
"Not quite the fool you present to the world," the ghost chided him.
"Is there something you know about Thomas I don't? 'Cause, if you do, a true friend would honest," Dennis wheedled the dead man in return.
"What care I for his paltry past?"
"But you knew he got murdered."
"Did I now, Snot? I merely told thee the pain of some outstripped what you endured, and I used Silent Thom to goad," the poltergeist informed him with a dismissive air as he gently floated in the air. "I knew not what troubled him or the travails he suffered, and I advised thee to lay the offer you made to me at his feet. All that is known about Thomas is the result of your endeavors!"
"Oh, right: blame the messenger!" Dennis carped at his ethereal friend, but he got distracted by a related thought. "Never did find out why they tried to erase him from history. Thomas didn't seem to have any idea why."
"He prizes your estimation of him, knave. What he chooses not to relay to thee holds as great an import as what he does. Perhaps the portly vagabond who accosted you simply sought to remind thou of that fact."
"I never said he was fat."
"Ach! Child! Simpleton! Thou hast ears, yet thee stuffs them full with cast-off linen! You are as blinkered as a blinded nag!" Peeves shouted upward to the rafters. "That I failed in so miserable a fashion to expand your capacities shall dog me all my days!"
"Throwing stuff at my head is hardly an education," Dennis used one of his favorite responses.
"And you prove yourself less than worthy of even that! Be gone, Snot. I tire of thy prattling!"
Peeves then shot backward and through the wall of the observation room before Dennis could reply. The mercurial poltergeist did not always make for an easy conversationalist. He mixed japes with wisdom in equal measure, and sorting between the two could be a taxing chore. However, Dennis did glean Peeves' meaning. He already knew knowledge did not come free, and sometimes the price proved extremely personal. It brought to mind what Cameron faced upon discovering the truth about Dennis: part of his mind could get wiped away. A longing deep in his gut began to churn. Try as he might, the fight against the temptation quickly vied in one direction. Dennis headed for the stairs leading out of the tower.
Dennis arrived in the Nottingham Apparation Station with the idea he would continue homeward. However, when he saw the name of the station formed by inlaid tile, it took little for his resolve to melt away. His feet took him off the platform, and then he headed for the storage lockers located inside the station. Although Gam Mergin's words rambled around the back of his head, Dennis stowed his backpack with his wand buried in the bottom. The locker, designed and built by goblins, would only open for him once he pressed both hands against the small metal door. Any would be thief would require potent magic and pile of explosives to open the locker. Thus, Dennis left the station by the side entrance that, from the outside of the building, looked like any other alley entrance.
Nottingham gradually turned to electric light as the late winter evening settled on the city. Dennis hurried to the bus station to get catch the transit to Cameron's neighborhood. Fear rippled through him aurors might keep watch over his boyfriend's flat, but not enough to stop Dennis from giving into his wants. The strange day required a balm, and only one person came to mind who could provide it. Thus, he grew antsy and impatient as the muggle transport lurched, started, and stopped to deliver and receive passengers. By the time the familiar waiting shed arrived, Dennis stood ready to dash off the bus, run down the short stretch of sidewalk, and assault a very specific door.
"Alright! What the f… Dennis!" Cameron first started to complain and then shouted.
Dennis did not wait. He pushed his boyfriend back into the entryway and then closed the door. From there, a much needed five-minute long kiss ensued. Neither left time for the other to explain or ask questions. Dennis felt he could consume the dark-skinned young man where he stood. Their growing exuberance got thwarted.
"Dennis!" Ann's voice called from the top of the stairs, and then her feet pounded down the stairs.
Despite the very pointed look Cameron threw at his best friend, Ann threw her arms around the two. She hugged both and kissed Dennis on the side of the cheek. Although he wanted that sort of attention from Cameron, he accepted it as a sign of the young woman's fondness for him. Since the first time he and Cameron met, Ann seemed fully in support of their relationship as it blossomed.
"Where the hell have you been?" She chastised him after delivering several kisses to the side of his face.
"Work, mostly, and stuff with my family. There's been… tension. Dad's sort of on edge since what happened in America and London, and with the IRA acting up again," Dennis said and lied by omission.
Ann stood shorter than him, and he stood shorter than his boyfriend. Ann hung from them by strength of arms alone. After a few seconds of scrutinizing his face, she lowered herself to the floor. She unceremoniously grabbed both his and Cameron's hands and started to drag them up the stairs into the flat proper. During the trip, dark eyes bored into gray-blue ones asking thousands of silent questions. Dennis pleaded for patience with his return gaze. It only took a second before the beautiful black face sagged into a grin. It warmed Dennis in ways he could not described and likened it to a rare form of magic.
"Honestly, Dennis, how bad could it be?" Ann led the conversation when she forced them to sit on Cameron's lovingly abused sofa and she took root in the only available armchair.
"Dead brother bad," Dennis quietly stated and felt awful for using his beloved brother as a dodge.
A hush like a heavy blanket covered over them. Ann knew in general about Dennis suffering the loss of his older brother, and again the death got attributed to poor construction and engineering. Cameron, conversely, learned more of the truth until the call for a brief hiatus of the relationship as Dennis prepared to face the Wizengamot.
"Denny?" Cameron quietly asked many questions with his name.
"It's all the death in the news that's reminding him of what happened to Colin. It's… tense around my house, and Mister Odpadki working me a lot isn't helping. Half the guys on the crew couldn't think their way off a stuck escalator, so I end up with the tricky jobs," he answered more or less truthfully.
Ann snorted with mirth. Her brown eyes glittered with happiness resting above her plump rosy cheeks, and Dennis did feel good to be in her presence again. The medium auburn hair adorning her head got tied back into a ponytail, and it made her look like a teenager. Ann radiated a reserved yet bubbly energy that regularly infected others. Of the group friends with which Cameron surrounded himself, Ann often acted in the role of arbiter, counselor, and holiday organizer.
"Why didn't you… call or something. I could've come and picked you up at the train station?" Cameron inquired and inserted himself into the conversation.
"Well, I think my phone is at the bottom of some heap…"
"Again?" Ann blurted in only slightly mock exasperation. "Denny! What is it with you and mobiles?"
"My coverall pockets don't zip and the phones keep falling out," he lied since he never once owned a muggle mobile phone. He could not explain to her the pockets got altered to comfortably hold wands. "Besides, I didn't even know I was coming here 'til I actually got on the train. Found a seat on one of the expresses."
Cameron eyed him for a few seconds.
"No, but I probably need to call my Mum and Dad and let 'em know," Dennis tried to answer both questions.
"Say, it's still dinnertime. How about we head out for supper?" Ann eagerly offered.
Both Cameron and Dennis slowly turned their heads and wordlessly chided her. After few moments of the getting the look, Ann seemed to become aware of her faux pas. Her face turned a shade of pink that hid her cheeks.
"Sorry, guys. I just… been ages since Denny's been here!" She pleaded her case.
"I know," Dennis answered before came let loose with some sarcastic quip. "And I appreciate it. Really, I do, but… I just need to be with Cam for a while if you don't mind."
"Sex. I get… understand."
Dennis felt his eyes rolling in his head. Cameron let out with a snort. Ann, for her part, did not appear the least bit apologetic. Given the history between the two men, her assumption made complete sense. Moreover, she would likely be proved right at some point during the night.
"Maybe, but really I just need to feel his arms around me and listen to him talk about plumbing. I know it sounds daft, but I missed hearing him talk about s-bends and j-pipes… stoppers and soldering torches and valves and… all the rest of it."
"You need help, mate," Cameron said through a half-chuckle.
"I just need normal right now."
"I do understand," Ann said and stood. "Will you maybe be around this weekend? It'd be nice to throw down a few pints and make noise over at The Tadger. I'm not the only one who misses you."
"Including me?" Dennis' boyfriend rejoined.
Ann smirked. She walked across the short space separating her from the two men. It took little effort for her to lean down, kiss Dennis on the cheek again, and wrap an arm around his neck. He hugged her in return. Then, Ann performed the same ritual with Cameron. When she resumed standing, she fixed on Cameron.
"Call me later if you get a chance," she exhorted him. "Or sometime tomorrow to let me know if we should start making plans. I'd ask him, but I'd only get a call from a pile of rubbish."
Dennis smirked at her roundabout way of telling him to use greater care with his belongings.
"Sure, sure," Cameron said as his fingers twined with Dennis'. "I'm thinking I'll send a text or something in the morning."
"You got tomorrow off, Denny?" Ann inquired as the thought apparently hit her in that moment.
"No. I'll take the early rail to London, so I'll be out of here long before the sun comes up. Odpadki is going to kill me for being late," Dennis fibbed yet again. It did not sit well with him, but no other option remained. He wondered at the same time if the Ministry of Magic understood the corruption the Secrecy Statute introduced into witches and wizards.
"Alright. Have fun guys," Ann told them as she started to collect her jacket and purse. "Really do try to come back this weekend, Denny. We could use a good time with you, and it looks like you could use it, too."
Dennis nodded in agreement. The two men did not move from the sofa as their friend finished shrugging into her coat. Ann smiled at them, and then departed for the stairs in silence. Ten seconds later the front door opened and closed. Only one more second passed.
"What in the bloody hell are you doing here? Won't those Ministry people be all over you for… for whatever rule it is you're breaking?" Cameron rounded on him.
"First, I'm here to see you 'cause I needed to see you… be near you, touch you," Dennis began his defense. "And they only know I'm in Nottingham if they're even paying attention. Left my wand in a locker at the apparating station. They can't track me 'les I actually do some magic."
"Still sounds risky."
"I guess it might be, so… ah, want me to leave?"
Cameron made every effort to tackle a man who remained in a sitting position. His body flew forward and his long, lean, strong arms encircled the young wizard. Their faces pressed together, and the kiss interrupted at the bottom of the stairs resumed. Heat and passion quickly developed between them. It felt extraordinary to Dennis to let his body react however it wanted and, in Cameron's presence, it reacted with tremendous potency.
"God, I missed you, Wizard Creevey," Cameron muttered when they broke off to get some air several minutes later. "Still can't quite get over my boyfriend is a wizard."
"Still can't believe I underestimated you, Cam, and I'm sorry 'bout that," Dennis replied as he continued to hold the lithe body against his.
"You actually did pretty well. Want to know what really gave it away?"
Dennis enthusiastically bobbed his head.
"None of the ticket stubs I saw you with were from St. Albans or stamped for the right day or time. Didn't take much to figure out you were picking them out of the trash. Then… then, I had to know why. That's when I started following you when you'd leave," Cameron added a bit more to what he already told Dennis and the aurors.
"I wish I was as clever as you," Dennis rumbled in appreciation for his boyfriend's detective work.
"I don't know about that. You did solve a two-hundred and fifty-year old murder… and you get to talk to the victim," the young muggle man said in an incredulous tone.
"I'm really hoping I get to introduce you to Thomas and Lucia one day… and a few others who aren't solid, either."
"Shit, you actually know ghosts. Here I was thinking you're imagination ran wild at your school. Really can't quite picture what a school for witches and wizards must be like."
"Not that much different from the school you went to 'cept… well, there's the magic," Dennis attempted to answer.
"Oh, sure! Just like my old school!" Cameron said in a purely sarcastic tone.
"Shut it, you."
Cameron kissed him again. Dennis wanted Cameron to kiss him as much as possible. However, it only lasted a minute before the young man lying atop him pulled his head back. A troubled look settled on his features.
"Cam?" Dennis asked when nothing got said.
"How much trouble are we in, Denny?" Cameron inquired in a whisper.
"I don't know. Could be loads. Could be a little. I'm working with Professor Flitwick in trying to figure out some way to… to make it go the way we want. The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy is pretty serious stuff. You figuring out I'm a wizard scares a lot of people," he did his best to explain without sounding panicky.
"Why? Don't they realize I was worried about you? That I love you?"
"You do remember they burned witches and wizards at the stake, and…"
"But we're not like that anymore! And it's not like I ran around telling everyone… or anyone. I kept it hid…"
"'Cause you thought everyone would think you'd gone mental saying I'm a wizard," Dennis interjected. "Cam, I know you didn't tell anyone, but… let's be honest about the reason why."
Cameron frowned.
"I'm not criticizing you, Love. I'm just trying to be honest now the owl's out of the aviary. I hated lying to you all that time."
"You had to. I get that now after those blokes… Jesus, they were scary!"
"It's their job to be scary. The people they have to face and fight are sometimes the worst of the worst. Aurors get killed more often than I even like to admit," Dennis told him.
"Coppers are coppers, Denny, no matter which world they're in. I get that, but… are they really going to erase part of my brain?" Cameron stated and inquired, and Dennis heard real fear in his voice.
"If they do, it'll only be about me. Flitwick says some of the witches and wizards in the Department of Mysteries are better magical surgeons than the ones we got over at St. Mungo's. I'll just sort of go missing from your head."
Seconds later Cameron struggled to sit up. A strange expression took root on his fact. Dennis watched him and wondered about the sudden shift. Once he seemed situated, Cameron really stared at him.
"Doesn't make sense, Denny, 'cause I'm not the only one 'round here who knows you. What are those magic cops gonna do? Erase everyone's memory? I mean, what about Mays, Henrietta, Peter… Ann! They all going to get erased, too?" Cameron asked and became a bit shrill toward the end.
Dennis blinked in absolute surprise. He never considered the other friends he made in Nottingham. Of course, none of them discovered his secret. However, Cameron struck upon a serious question that begged as serious answer. If the aurors wiped all knowledge about him from Cameron's mind, it would immediately put him at odds with everyone else he knew. They would still remember him.
"That is bloody brilliant," Dennis whispered while he gazed at the young man he loved.
"Brilliant?" Cameron warbled.
"I know they've done mass obliviations before, but it was usually about one event… like when Pettigrew killed all those muggles…"
"What does that mean, Denny? Sounds like an insult," his boyfriend interjected.
"Don't know where the word comes from to be honest. Just a word magical people use to describe non-magical people. Never really thought of it is as an insult myself," Dennis answered with a shrug.
"Shouldn't we be normies to you?"
"Well, then what does that say about me? That I'm not normal? That no witch or wizard is normal even though there's millions of us all over the world? Doesn't that do the same thing as when people use the word gay to mean something is stupid or not right?"
"You really need to go to university if your brain can come up with stuff like that without even trying… and that's not a magic, Denny. That's just you," Cameron said as if he suddenly forgot about the topic he raised.
"You forget I've had this same argument with my parents since I was nine and Colin first went to Hogwarts," Dennis reminded him.
Cameron snickered. He then nudged Dennis to one side and slid his long body between the wizard and the back of the couch. Dennis spun around so their faces floated within inches of one another. He could smell Cameron, and smell the pastrami the young man loved so much. The full, dark lips called to him. Despite his total want to snog with Cameron until they both exploded, Dennis could sense his boyfriend needed questions answered. Their term of separation weighed heavily on both of them, Dennis assumed.
"Yeah. I thought it was a funny sounding name when I first heard it," he confessed through a smile. "Didn't sound so funny when I got there. Cam, it was… this is going to sound stupid, but it was magical, and I don't mean in a wand magic sort of way. I was there with Colin, and we had this great adventure waiting for us."
A hand came to rest on Dennis' cheek and a quiet voice said: "You and Colin had a relationship as brothers everyone wants. I never understood why he was so important 'til I found you're both wizards. I try to picture you when you first got there, and there was Colin waiting for you. Sometimes when you talk about it, like now, I can see what real magic is. I can see it in your eyes, your face, Denny."
Dennis leaned his head forward until Cameron's lips pressed against his forehead. For the first time, he heard someone other than his parents who understood what Colin meant to him because a place and time came together that bound then tighter as brothers. The gaping wound he carried in his chest bearing his brother's name opened for a brief moment. Yet instead of it tearing him further apart, Dennis found strength in a man who loved him for being simply himself, as Colin once did. Cameron did not seem to care in the least how strange or unusual Dennis could be, never really flinched when he learned of the young man from St. Albans turned out to be a real wizard, and Dennis saw how much he craved such acceptance. The plumber's apprentice from Nottingham gave it to him by the bushel. The fact his wizarding status now threatened the relationship terrified him.
"I think I'd give this up for you," Dennis uttered the words.
"No, you can't, Denny. Never. I think all this magic stuff and people needs you more than me. It's too much a part of who you are. I get that. There's a different you that talks to me when you talk about magic, and it's bigger than the one I first met… and I think I love that Dennis even more," Cameron stated in the same soft but firm manner.
The tears that leaked from Dennis' eyes failed to prevent him from finding Cameron's mouth with his own. They sank into one another kiss. Dennis wormed his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him close against his body. It thrummed with emotion. A crackling noise came out of the television speakers. The lamp on the end table flickered. Their passions rose. A squeal emerged from Cameron's mobile phone. Cameron freed one arm, pulled the device from his pocket, and tossed it into the seat Ann recently abandoned. He chuckled as he continued to kiss the wizard.
"What?" Dennis managed to say the word between the lips.
"You don't know how many times I called the landlord to come out and look over the shit wiring in this place, 'cept it wasn't the wiring," Cameron told him after moving his face back a little.
"Sorry."
"You know, Denny, it was all right there if I paid attention. Something odd always going on when you're around. It all makes sense now."
"What do you mean if you paid attention? You found out about me, and I was trying to hide it from you!"
Cameron sighed and said: "You didn't get sloppy."
Dennis snorted out his opinion. The flat sat quiet around them. Outside the building cars and the occasional lorry would rumble past. Full darkness settled over Nottingham, and only the single lamp illuminated the living area. The used sofa, not even new when Cameron laid claim to it, sank in the middle from their combined weight. It hugged them. Even though they discussed a subject that made Dennis nervous, he continued to feel protected by the young man in his grasp.
"Denny, it took me over seven months to catch you at it, and I was following you everywhere," the dark-skinned man stated. "That first time I saw you do that disappearing…"
"Disapparating."
"Yeah, that. I thought I'd gone and crumbled my fucking biscuit. I was afraid to tell you 'cause I knew you'd think I'd gone mental or totally bonkers if I told you I saw you fold up into the air and vanish."
"You didn't act scared when I saw you the next time," Dennis commented.
"'Cause by the end of that week I convinced myself my eyes played tricks on me. Shit, I honestly thought I lost my marbles for a few days, but… it was you, Denny. Solid, reliable Denny. He couldn't just disappear, so I just sort of set it aside. Trick of the mind and all that," Cameron freely explained.
"So, the next time…?"
"Two weeks later. You got to Nottingham so early, and it just didn't make sense," his boyfriend continued. "I thought maybe you got a room in town somewhere, so I followed you to see where you stayed, and then you did it again. The next week, the same thing when you left on Sunday morning. That's when I knew I had to either tell you what I saw or get myself a room at Bedlam."
"How come you didn't sound scared when you told me?" Dennis asked, and he truly wanted to hear the answer.
"'Cause I knew you'd explain it, and it'd be the truth. Wasn't expecting to hear you're a wizard, but… even when you said it, I knew it was the true. I don't know why, but a bunch of little things suddenly made sense. The way you'd tidy up the flat… or find stuff I didn't even know I was looking for. And you know things, Denny; really, really weird things. Plus, the whole investigation into Thomas. Why would a two-hundred and fifty-year old murder get you so involved? Well, 'cause your Dennis the Wizard, and of course the ghost of the earl is your friend!"
Dennis burst out laughing. The revelation sounded entirely ridiculous coming from Cameron's lips. However, Dennis heard no condemnation or resentment. A hand caught him under the chin and lifted his face. He looked up and saw a very serious, even profound, expression on his boyfriend's face.
"Not many people'll believe this, but I'll snuff it first 'fore I tell anyone your secret. What I know… this'll go to my grave with me…"
"Don't say that!" Dennis barked at him with fear lancing through his body. The light blinked on and off several times. "I can't…. Fuck! I can't lose anyone else, Cam. Not you. Especially not you. Professor Flitwick and me are going to find a way to make this okay. He's one of the smartest people I know, one of the finest wizards I know, and he'll help me think of something."
"Know what?" Cameron loudly asked.
"What?"
"I believe you, Denny. You found out who killed Thomas and how he did it, so you got this one. I don't think there's a lot Dennis the Wizard can't do."
Dennis pulled Cameron into another tight embrace in response to the words of encouragement. He planned on showing his boyfriend the true depth of his gratitude at finding a man like Cameron, and being a muggle be damned. He received more generosity and kindness from the young man in Nottingham than just about anyone else he knew. Dennis vowed to fight with every fiber in his body, every last mote of magic at his command, to ensure he and Cameron would stay together. In the meanwhile, Dennis calculated several ways to demonstrate the depth of his commitment and emotions to Cameron.
The electronics in Cameron's apartment acted dodgy for several hours.