Title: My Love, My Heart
Forum/Challenge: QFLC Round 4 Submission (Beater 2, Ballycastle Bats) / HPFC Friends Challenge
Prompts: (color) silver, (word) rare, (dialogue) "Could you be happy here with me?" / Write about a long-distance relationship
World: Pre-Hogwarts (mostly)
(Awesome) Betas: queen-sheep, crochetaway
Word Count: 2,054

1981

Kingsley Shacklebolt waited impatiently in the waiting room of the newly-minted Department for International Cooperation. The war with Voldemort had taken its toll on Britain, and the remaining blood purists—particularly abroad—were of great concern to Minister Bagnold. The Potters were dead, the Longbottoms were as good as, and those were just the families that Kingsley knew well. It felt as though every day he was being called to clean up the bodies left in the wake of lingering Voldemort supporters.

The British government had clamped down hard. As such, international portkeys were now heavily regulated.

Kingsley understood the necessity of it. However, those stringent rules and regulations made an already nerve-wracking experience even worse. Rather than having Adeola's entire family portkey to Britain for the meeting of the families, engagement ceremony, and wedding—an event that had already been pushed off a year because of the war—she'd had to get special dispensation from the Ministry to visit. Britain had even required a letter from the Headmaster at Uagadou as a personal reference before they allowed her in the country. This moment should have been a formal introduction of both large families, which would mitigate the fraught situation with its ages-old rites and etiquette; instead, Kingsley stood alone in the quiet waiting room and prepared to meet his betrothed for the first time.

He was beside himself, though he wasn't sure if it was excitement, anxiety, or a bit of both that was making his hands tremble like a schoolboy.

1974

Dear Adeola,

It feels odd to write—and to be betrothed—to someone I have never met, but I imagine it is much the same for you. Perhaps we can both set aside our nerves and instead spend these years getting to know one another through letters.

Congratulations on beginning your schooling. I have heard excellent things about the instruction at Uagadou—their dueling champions are some of the most feared on the international circuit, given their ease with wandless casting. Here, such a skill is rare, and often only the most powerful witches and wizards master it.

I am, myself, a recent graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is Britain's premier magical school, much like Uagadou for the African continent. I was a Prefect—a position of leadership—within my house for the final three years of my studies.

Now I am an Auror at the British Ministry of Magic. I just finished my training, and my new partner, Alastor Moody, is a senior Auror. I am very lucky to find myself paired with a man of morals and skills; he also has quite the sharp tongue!

I will admit—I do not know much about being a husband. I always knew my father would find me a wife—such is the way with our family—so I did not 'date', as many witches and wizards do here. I did not want to give my heart to another when I knew I was meant for you. I will admit, I suffered some teasing for this from the other wizards in my house, but I have held you precious even before I knew your name.

I can only hope that as you begin your schooling you do so with an eye to our future.

Yours,

Kingsley

1977

My Dearest Kingsley,

I have completed the exam season and am preparing to head back to Ibadan. I look forward to being with family but expect little rest. Mother has decided this summer I will start formal lessons on running a household. She has also secured a tutor in British customs and etiquette. I know your family is of high esteem in your country, and I would never want to embarrass you for my lack of knowledge.

I am sure I did well on my Alchemy and Potions exams, and I have good feelings about Defense and Charms. I am concerned about my Transfiguration exam; most students in my year have achieved their Animagi form already, but mine continues to be elusive. Professor Mwangi thinks my soul is divided and that my animal will not take form until my spirit is whole.

I will admit to blushing at his pronouncement, and I place the blame for my failure squarely on your shoulders.

How is it possible to have so much feeling for someone I have yet to meet? Is it because I am a young girl? I see how the other witches here fall to pieces over their wizards. I wonder if I would giggle when you held my hand, or if you would embrace me in the corridor between classes. I'm sure that silver tongue of yours would charm your way into a stolen kiss or two.

I hope work has settled—it does not give me peace to hear there has been an increase of assaults in your country. You must keep yourself safe and healthy, Obim, for I am not there to worry over you and your fondness for 80 hour work weeks at your dangerous job. [1] I expect to see my husband when I am in Britain, and for him to be hale and whole.

May the gods watch over you and keep you safe.

My love and fondest regard,

Adeola

1980

My Darling Adeola,

It is with a heavy heart that I write you and let you know that Fabian and Gideon Prewett, my good friends from work, have passed. They were cursed in a skirmish with Death Eaters, and even the best Healers at St. Mungo's could do nothing for them. I was at the hospital, with their family, to the end; I have never been so heartbroken as when I saw their sister receive the news that they had passed.

They lived a good life and died honorable deaths—they took out five Death Eaters before they succumbed— and I am hopeful that I will see them both again in the next great adventure. However, their deaths remind me how fragile our existence is. I know you have a year left of school—an important year, during which you should devote yourself to your Alchemy and Potions studies—but the distance between us continues to tear at my heart. I cannot regret my job; I am good at it, and I am making a difference by fighting against these violent blood purists. Yet, I fear that I will be gone from this world before I can hold you in my arms and show you exactly how much you mean to me.

Write to me with some happy news and relieve this ache in my heart. Are you still at the top of your class? How are you fairing in your dueling club? Did your brother finally achieve his Animagi form?

Yours, always,

Kingsley

1981

When she finally arrived, appearing out of thin air and clutching the small Galleon that served as her portkey, Kingsley went weak in the knees. Adeola was more than he could have imagined: tall and lithe, with skin that shone and eyes that twinkled. She wore a dress that was cut after the popular styles in Britain: sleeves that reached to her elbow with broad shoulders, a belt that cinched at her natural waist, and a hemline that fell to her knees. The dress pattern, however, was a bright blue and gold, much more lively than the khakis and greys popular in drab wizarding Britain, and it was complemented by a simple, deep blue gele. [2]

Their eyes met, and he watched a shy smile brighten her face.

He approached her. "Adeola?"

She tentatively lowered her head. He was shocked when, a moment later, she huffed.

"I am unsure of how to greet you, without the formalities."

He reached out and lifted her chin, meeting her dark eyes with his own. "Ife mi," he whispered. [3]

Tears welled in her eyes. "Obim."

And, after seven years of waiting, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

The morning before their engagement ceremony, Kingsley took her on a tour of the gardens at Shacklebolt Hall. It had nonstop rained since her arrival—four straight days—and he could tell she was suffering from the lack of fresh air and sunlight. He had instructed the elves to make as many traditional dishes as possible for meals, slowly easing her into the bland British food he was used to, but their jollof rice and efo riro couldn't assuage her clear homesickness.

They stopped at the day lilies, and Kingsley took her hands in his. "I know this world is very different from yours, but could you be happy here with me, Ife mi? If not, you must tell me now. If you wish to go home, I will not make you stay."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I already am home. I was the moment I laid eyes on you at the Ministry. And no amount of rain or bland food or boring British parties will change that. You are my home."

1998

There had been no question in his mind, after the death of Cedric Diggory, that Voldemort had returned. He did not buy into Rita Skeeter's tripe for one minute, and he held Dumbledore in great esteem. The man had approached him in the summer of 1994 about joining the Order of the Phoenix—a group which had apparently existed in the first war against Voldemort, but of which he had not been a part—and he'd readily agreed.

He'd also made immediate plans to get his family out of the country.

Adeola had thrown the fit to end all fits, yelling that any Dark Lord that would come for her would regret the day he held a wand and didn't Kingsley think she could take care of herself and she would not be separated from her husband again. The ache of their seven year betrothal was still fresh in her memory.

He'd only had to take her hands and list their children's names—Magnus, their son, and Efemi, their daughter—for her anger to deflate.

"And their schooling?" Adeola asked, half-heartedly. It was not a fight she would win, but she would make a token effort.

He kissed the top of her head. "Magnus will have the privilege of spending his first years of school where his mother learned, and when he comes back to Hogwarts he will have skills in wandless magic of which his peers could only dream."

"And Efe?"

He smiled. "She will spend time sorely missed with her mother's family. This is not a punishment, Adeola. I saw what happened in the last war. They will target you-all of you-because of me. Please, Ife mi, let me keep you safe."

Unlike last time, his owls to her had been intermittent, and she never wrote back; he did not want their letters intercepted and their location given away. He never knew that he would long for the letters of their youth, that he would miss so desperately her monthly missives.

On May 2, 1998, after he had rounded up his last Death Eater, but before he fell into bed and slept for forty hours, he sent off his final owl.

Come home.

And now he was back in the same waiting room where it all began. And, like so many years before, his family arrived out of thin air and his heart leaped.

"Baba!" cried his daughter, running into his arms. [4] Magnus was not far behind. He hugged them tight, as if to make up for the four years of distance.

"Let me look at you," he said, pulling back. "Ack, my wife, who are these children you have brought with you. They cannot be mine, for they are too tall! This one"—he rubbed Magnus's head—"is not a child, but a man!"

Magnus grinned at the compliment.

"And this one"—he lifted his daughter—"must be a princess you have stolen, for she is the second most beautiful woman I have seen!"

Efemi pouted. "Second?"

He set his daughter down, winked at her, and swept his weeping wife into his arms. "Yes, for you are the daughter of the most beautiful woman in the world." He embraced Adeola and kissed her firmly.

"Welcome home."

Footnotes
[1] "Obim" is a Yoruba or Igbo term of endearment (I've seen the term attributed to both languages); it means "my heart."
[2] A gele is a traditional Nigerian headscarf for women.
[3] "Ife mi" is a Yoruba term of endearment; it means "my love."
[4] "Baba" is a term used in a number of languages, including Yoruba, father.