CHAPTER 09:
It had been two months. Two months since the magical teens had left his house. Two months since they had won the newborn war. Two months since they had gone ahead and won their own war. Two months since he'd seen her.
He'd returned in the wee hours of the morning that day that felt so long ago. He'd spent the entire evening soothing Bella's unreasonable insecurities, then cradled her as she slept; yet when he'd watched her sleep that night, he'd felt odd. For the first time since he'd started what others would call stalking, he'd felt the wrongness in his voyeuristic activities. He'd felt as if he shouldn't have been there, as if something else… someone else.. had needed him elsewhere. He'd left Bella's room at the first light and run his fastest, making it back at a record time of just a few long seconds and yet it had been late.. too late. She had left. Gone. Without so much as a goodbye wave.
He had been disoriented since. Nothing had felt right. Not school. Not hunts. Not the rains, nor the sunny days. And definitely not his relationship with Bella. What was wrong? Edward wanted to scream in frustration.
His only consolation.. their owls. He smirked, thinking back to the first time they had received a letter, the owl dropping itself unceremoniously on Emmett's lap and then giving him a baleful look before sticking it's leg out, much to the big vampire's shock and everyone's amusement. They knew they had won the war of course, Alice's visions had been spot on and once he'd come back, he'd looked into her mind himself and witnessed the swiftness with which all the wizards had yielded their wands, he'd been spellbound especially whenever Alice's visions had included her.
The way she fought was like a dance, her wand sending curses and hexes one after the other. He'd seen her fighting, cursing, killing, running, crying, protecting but not once did he see her breaking, until a large man had carried Harry's limp body. She'd broken then, like nothing could ever make her whole again and he'd been riddled with rage and guilt, at being so far away, unable to hold her crying form and whisper condolences. Then, Harry had jumped out of the large man's arms. She was the first one to collect herself, running by his side, hugging him between the flying spells and then sticking their backs together, they'd fought.. as one.. And won! He'd been speechless all through the hours of the battle and then all through the day thinking of every time she had put someone else's well-being before her own and protected them, risking her own life, over and over again.
He didn't know whether to be angry or proud.
After long hours of contemplation, he decided on neither. It wasn't his place to be angry. It wasn't his right to be proud.
He only watched the skies every fifth day. That's when the owls came. For Carlisle, of course. He only ever stood on the sidelines while the letters were read, appreciating the penmanship that went with some of the letters. The others were written in a hen's scratching.
Smirking again, he leaned his forearm by the glass wall in his room, waiting to hear the tell-tale flapping of tired wings that would bring more information about her. He chuckled when he heard Emmett moving downstairs, coaxing Esme to prepare a small treat for his new feathered friend.