A/N. Some minor mentions of sex in this. If this could offend scroll down to the second section and start there.
Thank you to those who are reading and those reviewing. I see this being finished within two chapters.
Sex and the Water Sprite
As Joyce slid down from the metal handrail, her knees gave way and she stumbled. Gellert caught her around the waist and steadied her. "Careful, my love good." His face still playful.
Her feet were cold. Perplexed, she looked down at her feet. No shoes. What happened to her shoes? And then she remembered... her legs around his waist as he thrust deep inside her and... kicking her shoes off.
I must find my shoes. She gave Grindelwald a little push, determined to find them, and didn't see the frown of surprise appearing on his face
There! One near the door, the other in the far corner. Merlin and Morgana, my knickers are on the floor as well!
It was seeing her underwear lying there – knowing that he'd torn them off her and then tossed them away – that drove home to her just what had happened.
I had sex! With a stranger! In a public lift!
Embarrassed, Joyce glanced over to Grindelwald – who'd tactfully turned away. Quickly she shoved the ripped strip of silk into her purse so that they were out of sight. She was in the middle of putting her shoes back on when Grindelwald called her name. She continued fiddling with her shoe, pretending not to hear, too ashamed to meet his eye.
"You blush for what we have just done." He reached out, tenderly stroking a lock of hair away from her flushed face. "Do not. The time could not have been better spent."
Why did his voice lull her so? It washed away the embarrassment. What had happened between them had been natural and felt good – there should be no shame between lovers.
"You remind me of the sea," she blurted out. "I could spend an eternity playing in your summer waves." Her eyes widened. Merlin and Morgana! What was wrong with her? Why did she have to keep blurting out her weirdest thoughts? She never did this with Hank; Gellert had a really strange effect on her.
"Oh, Joyce..." Laughter danced in Gellert's mismatched eyes. "You have a strange fetish for water. Perhaps... perhaps, there are water sprites in your ancestry?"
"Water sprites?" She took him seriously. "I don't know, but some say that the Lovegoods are Seers. Oh, not in the normal way of visionaries," she added as he cocked his head, calculation creeping into his eyes.
"We don't see futures, not like you. We see things around us that ordinary people can't or won't see. That's what my father used to say, anyway."
Grindelwald chuckled. "I can believe it. You are definitely not of the ordinary."
She gave him a bright smile, but when he turned away, she anxiously bit down on her lip. He was wrong! She was ordinary. More ordinary than the average Witch or Wizard. Did he know she was a Squib? What if he found out? Would he hate her? Which would be worse, contempt or pity? She didn't want to see either. She wanted to bask in his adoration forever.
The lift jolted and began to rise.
"Where are we going?"
He arched a surprised brow. "To my room. It is what we agreed on, is it not?"
Was it? She couldn't remember. The only thing she knew was how he filled her mind with his presence. Without thinking, she tugged up the drooping neckline of her dress. The movement caught Grindelwald's eye and his gaze heated. He leaned in, pushing aside the fabric, his lips grazing the sensitive surface of her breast, dipping lower, to suck at her nipple, making her moan with pleasure...
"Gellert!" Exquisite shivers ran deep inside her and the warmth began to pool between her legs. She could feel his own heat against her... Oh, Merlin, she wanted him so much. She wanted him again and again, over and over in every possible way.
The lift chimed, the doors slid open, and Grindelwald moved away abruptly.
"Grindelwald!" a man called from the corridor, his voice loud and anxious.
Joyce smoothed out her clothing and peered around Gellert. Their host strode towards them, his face dark with anger and grim with bad news.
"What is it, Hubert?" Grindelwald asked. "Can't you see that..." he reached back, took Joyce's hand and drew her forward, "... I am busy."
Von Kendrick studied Joyce's face. Remembering his manners, he clicked his heels together, giving Joyce a short bow before speaking to Grindelwald in rapid German. Whatever he said it made Grindelwald's face harden, and by the end of it, Joyce knew that she'd lost him.
"I need to leave." All signs of playfulness were gone.
"What?" She didn't want him to go! "Why?" Was it because she was a Squib?
Gellert lowered his voice and softened his tone. "I am sorry. I thought that we would have more time together, but it seems... fate has other plans. Hubert tells me that his sentries have reported Aurors Apparating into the area. You know how much they hate me. There will be a battle and many innocent will die if I stay. Find your friends, leave also. "
He pulled something shiny from his pocket, tapped it with his wand twice, and then placed it in her hand. "Wear this. It will bring you luck."
A finely wrought necklace lay in her palm. "It's The Deathly Hallows," said Joyce easily recognising the insignia from her Beedle the Bard book. Her fingers curled around the pendant. "I'll wear it and think of you."
Von Kendrick shuffled his feet and coughed. A sign that he was getting impatient.
Grindelwald ran a finger across her cheek. "I'm sorry, this is not how I wanted it to be between us." He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers before placing a chaste kiss between her brows. "I need to go somewhere and be someone else for a while. Remember, I have not abandoned you. The Grindelwalds always protect what is theirs."
She felt as if the wine had addled her brain. "I don't understand."
Grindelwald took two steps back, his long, black coat swirling around his calves. "Know this. This is not goodbye. Find your friends, Joyce. Find them and leave." His eyes went to Von Kendrick, they gave each other a single nod and Disapparated, leaving Joyce alone.
….
Joyce woke with the worst hangover of her life. Pounding at her head. The room shifted when she tried to focus, pain slammed behind her eyes, and her throat felt as dry as sandpaper. Her stomach churned, and she half-ran, half-stumbled to the small washbasin in the corner of her room, holding onto it and vomited into the porcelain.
It took two cups of strong, black coffee and a full vial of the Hangover Potion that she'd stashed in case of emergencies before she felt human again. She took a third cup of coffee over to the little table that was set beneath the window overlooking the street and her thoughts turned to the previous night.
After Grindelwald had left, she'd gone back to the ballroom. Bracius and Nanette were in the middle of the dancing and when she pushed her way through the couples, she was glowered at. She stood steadfast and ignored them. "We need to leave now,"
"What's going on?" Bracius asked, weaving his way off the dance floor, Nanette and Joyce beside him.
"There is going to be a raid," Joyce whispered. "Grindelwald has already left."
Her friends didn't waste a single second. Right there and then they'd taken hold of her arms and Apparated straight back to their hotel room. Nanette had kissed her goodbye, and Bracius brought her home. Bracius had been jittery. It wasn't illegal to attend a Grindelwald rally, but the Ministry would take a dim view of him if the InterAurors took him for questioning. If it got around the departments, it might affect future promotions.
"Nanette and I will finish our visit to Paris early and travel on to Venice in the morning," he told her. "I think it best to put distance between ourselves and the rally." He'd said a quick goodbye and left, eager to return to his wife.
Joyce cradled her coffee and stared out the window. Should she leave as well? But where would she go? Back to London? Devon? Why? What difference would it make if the Ministry knew that she'd been to a Grindelwald rally?
As for Gellert... Last night she'd been flattered – starstruck even – but looking back on their time in the lift, it didn't seem real.
"I love Hank." It was true, she still loved her Muggle.
"Also, I'm an idiot." Joyce let out a short laugh, knowing that was true too. She decided that from now on she was done with hippogriffs. She'd forget about Grindelwald and leave his necklace in a drawer.
….
A few days later, Joyce came home from shopping at the antique shops. Removing her gloves, coat, and hat, she peeled off the brown paper wrapping off her purchase and placed the oil painting onto a small easel. Then she stood back, admiring it.
If this was by who she thought, it was worth a great deal more than she'd paid for it. The problem was with the signature. A century of smoke-filled rooms had discoloured the varnish to a dark brown and, even when she picked it up and tilted it into the light, the signature remained illegible. It would need to be cleaned first. But, if this was a lost piece by R J Wilhelm, dealers from all over the world would try to buy it.
A woman's scream pierced the air. Joyce jumped, the painting almost slipping from her hands. Something heavy was thrown against a wall, and a man shouted, "Madame Berardi! Madame Berardi! Come quickly!"
Joyce put the painting down and moved to the door. Sliding the safety chain across, she cautiously opened it. Through the gap she could see Monsieur Gregoire in the corridor with the young couple from next door. Joyce took off the chain and stepped outside.
"Let go of me! Let go!" shrieked Yvette who was being held by both Stephane and Monsieur Gregoire. "I have done nothing! You cannot prove anything!"
"We saw you!" exclaimed Monsieur Gregoire sternly. "I saw you! We all saw you." He shook his head in dismay. "What will your poor grandmother say, when she finds out what you have done?"
At that very moment, the small figure of Madame Berardi rounded the corner of the stairs, her mouth a thin slash of anger in her face. "What is all this noise? What are you doing with Yvette?"
"We are sorry, Madame," Monsieur Gregoire began, "but we have discovered your granddaughter, she was – ."
"Taking jewellery and money from the bedroom!" shrieked Louise. "She saw us go out! She even shouted goodbye to us! If we hadn't met Monsieur Gregoire in the foyer and changed our minds about leaving, we would not have discovered her! She has your keys!"
"Yvette does not have my keys!" Madame Berardi protested. And she jingled the keys on her belt as proof. "I do not let them out of my sight!"
"Then, she has her own keys!" Monsieur Gregoire held up a large set to show the landlady. "See? We took them from her when we caught her. How many times has she let herself into my room when I went out for the day? Did she sneak in while I slept? I am an old man. I do not have much, but I have noticed my money from the cabinet by my bed has dwindled over the past few weeks. She must have been in and taken it!"
Joyce felt sick. If Yvette had a key, she could have been in her apartment too. She'd even accused Hank of letting Yvette in. When he'd claimed he was innocent, she hadn't believed him.
"May we discuss this in your room?" her landlady asked. She'd spotted Joyce and other tenants gathering and didn't want an audience.
Stephane and Louise nodded. They pushed Yvette into their room, with Monsieur Gregoire and Madame Berardi following. Just before the door shut, Louise popped her head around the door to look straight at Joyce.
"You might wish to see if you have lost anything of value as well, Mademoiselle Lovegood. I fear that Yvette has stolen from us all."
Joyce nodded and returned to her room, her feet taking her straight to the bedroom. She stopped on the threshold, picturing the day she'd caught Hank with Yvette. Hank often left his wallet at the side of the bed; had she sneaked in while he slept and tried to steal from him?
Then why was his hand inside her blouse?
Joyce tried to picture Hank's expression as he looked at Yvette. Enjoyment or horror? She couldn't remember. How devious was Yvette? What if she'd heard Joyce returning and shoved Hank's hand into her blouse knowing it would cause an argument and she could escape?
He still shouldn't have spoken to me as he did.
Joyce sat at her table, the painting she'd found and been so excited about forgotten. The walls were thin in the building, and she could hear raised voices from next door. Yvette wept continually and Madame Berardi loudly berated her granddaughter for giving her business a bad name and breaking her trust.
She heard her neighbour shouting for the gendarmes to be called and Yvette arrested for being a thief. Louder sobs and pleas from Yvette, and then Monsieur Gregoire's gravelly voice offered a solution. Recompense to those who'd lost out and Madame Berardi to send Yvette back to her parents in disgrace.
"Yes, yes," cried Madame Berardi in relief. "I will recompense you all!"
'How can you recompense me?' Joyce thought. 'I've lost the man I love because of her.'
….
The days crawled by, spring turning to summer. One day, Madame Berardi had the opportunity to fix the problem her granddaughter had caused between the Englishwoman and the American. She was on her way from seeing an old friend when she came across Hank, sitting on a bench in the park. She halted on the paved walkway. "It is Monsieur Summers, is it not?"
Hank looked up from the papers he'd been reading, folded them, and rose to his feet. "Madame Berardi, it is lovely to see you again."
She took his hand, and the beaded shawl she liked to wear caught in his cufflink. They were stuck. Both laughed at the absurdity of it. Untangling took a while, and Madame Berardi took advantage of his capture to say Mademoiselle Lovegood was pining for him. Since he seemed to be listening, she went on. Telling him about the paleness of Joyce, and finally, how she'd sobbed when she admitted they had broken their engagement.
"'Yvette is a bad girl," she said simply. "I sent her away." She felt embarrassed telling him, but not sorry to have told him.
Hank regarded her with dark blue eyes, his face thoughtful. "You think Joyce regrets our break up?
"Mais Qui!" Madame Berardi nodded eagerly. "Mademoiselle rarely leaves the apartment! She was so happy when she had you. I often saw her, darting here and there, bringing back her treasures. Now she looks ill. I am most worried about her."
Hank thanked her, bid her goodbye, and she left him reading his papers once more. There was nothing more she could do; Madame Berardi hoped that it would be enough.
….
"Hank!" Joyce exclaimed when she'd answered the knock on her door. "I thought you were Madame Berardi!"
"Ah, no." He removed his hat, rubbing a hand self-consciously through his hair and regarding her sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, I've just gotten out the bath. I must look a mess," she apologised, nervously pulling the front of her dressing gown. She'd intended to take a nap this afternoon. She hadn't been sleeping well these past few weeks.
"You look beautiful," Hank replied.
Was he joking? Joyce's eyes shot to his face and saw only sincerity and a touch of nervousness. Politeness took over, and she remembered her manners. "Come in. I'll make us coffee."
They sat at the table, the blind half-pulled down to block out the bright sunshine and sound of traffic drifting up through the open window. Hank kept shooting glances at her and then fiddling with his cup. Joyce sipped her coffee and stared at the velvet tablecloth, wondering why he was there. Did he want to see her again? Or, had he left something behind?
"I'm sorry," said Hank, at the same time Joyce asked, "How have you been?"
That made them both smile. "After you," said Joyce.
"I came to tell you... how sorry I am for walking out on you that day," Hank replied. "I reacted... badly when you accused me of cheating with Yvette. If I'd caught you in a similar position with a guy..." His face twisted with a combination of anger and remorse. "I'd have thought the same."
Joyce met his eyes. "I'm sorry too. I should have let you explain."
Hank shook his head. "I never gave you a chance, honey. I was too angry."
"Yvette was caught stealing. She'd had keys made and was going into the apartments when they were empty or the tenants were asleep. She only took small amounts of money or odd items of jewellery each time. She thought it would be less noticeable. Do you remember, I said I'd lost a silver ring? She had it in her possession."
Hank's jaw jutted out, his anger plain to see. "I told you that she was a no good whore."
He saw her looking at him and growled, "Look, it's true Joyce. She didn't care about creating trouble between us! I was pushing her away when she grabbed my hand and thrust it into her blouse. And then you walked in."
"And believed the worst." Joyce bit her lip and stared out the window, not wanting to cry.
"It felt as if you wanted to believe that I'd cheat on you," Hank complained, his face sour at the memory. "I don't like it when you doubt me." He looked at her, his voice softening when her face crumbled. "Don't cry, Joyce. Let's forget all about Yvette."
She nodded, too choked up to speak.
"What's been happening? I saw Madame Berardi, and she said she's worried about you."
His concern made Joyce cry. She'd been crying a lot recently. "I..." She searched for a handkerchief to dry her tears.
"Joyce, what's wrong?"
She couldn't speak. Instead, she sobbed. Hank got up and put his arms around her, and for the first time in weeks, Joyce felt the tension leave her.
"It can't be anything that we can't sort out between us." He stroked her hair. "Listen, I'll help you. Dry your tears."
Joyce pulled away, blowing her nose. Hank hovered over her awkwardly. When he saw she'd gotten her tears under control, he sat down and took her hand. "Has someone upset you?" His face twisted in apologetic face. "Besides me."
She shook her head. "No."
"Work then? If you need money, just say."
Again, she shook her head. "Money isn't a problem." She sniffed and gave him a watery smile. "I've done well and made some good finds."
In fact, she'd had an amazing run of good luck, and her employers had paid well for everything she'd sent them. Money-wise, she was better off now than she'd ever been. "Hank, I don't want to talk about it right now."
Hank's face closed off. He dropped her hand, thinking she didn't trust him.
Knowing how sensitive he was, her fingers curled around his. "Maybe later? I'm too upset right now."
"Whatever you want to do, honey." He frowned, obviously unhappy that she wasn't prepared to share. "Shall we go out? There's that nice cafe near the shops that you used to like."
Joyce paled and looked scared. "I don't think..." She grabbed her cup and took a sip. "Food isn't staying down."
It was Hank's turn to look panicked. "Christ, Joyce! You're ill! Have you been to a doctor? What did he say?"
The words burst out of her. "I'm not ill! I'm pregnant! It's due early January."
Completely stunned, Hank sat silently – working the months back in his head. When he finally worked it out, he drew in a deep breath and let it out noisily through his mouth. "That's... we were together then."
Joyce fiddled with her handkerchief. "Yes." The baby had to be Hank's. She'd been with him for months, and sometimes they hadn't been as careful as they should.
"Did you think I'd have walked away from you if I'd known? Do you think I'm the kind of man who abandons his pregnant girlfriend? Why didn't you tell me?"
"You... weren't here."
"I am now!" he let out a sigh of exasperation. "And you told me." He shook his head. "Sorry Joyce. This is my fault. It's just... if I'd known, I'd have been here sooner."
What if Gellert Grindelwald came looking for her? The thought had occurred before and frightened her. It had been a one-night stand – a moment of drunken madness. She didn't want to see Gellert ever again. His necklace was in the drawer, unworn. He probably felt the same way about her...
"I love you, Joyce. It was driving me crazy knowing we weren't together. Look, don't be scared. I'm happy about the baby. You know how much I wanted a family. We'll bring the wedding forward. I've been offered a temporary position in London, we can have the ceremony there and ask your brother to give you away."
"Oh, Hank!" She flung herself in his arms, feeling them tighten around her and tilting up her face to receive his kisses. She'd never stopped loving him.
They married a short time later. A simple civil ceremony in London with only two guests who stood as witnesses – her brother and his wife. She didn't tell Hank about magic. Once his contract ended, they'd leave for the States, and she'd start a brand new life as Muggle.