Author's Note: The next section before the descent. Thanks to all those who have read, fave'd, alerted and reviewed. This starts from when he is 23 and goes until he is nearing his 28th birthday.

Hope you enjoy - hasn't been beta'd and I have realised I awkwardly kinda changed tenses from the first chapter and will have to remedy the first chapter. Awks.

But anyway - ENJOY!

Live Fast, Die Young

Crossroads


Will we grow old together?

No idea, Gorgeous, no idea


He's just bought his own place. A tiny one room flat in Knockturn Alley (Diagon Alley is out of his price range). The kitchen joins onto the living room and bedroom, an old sheet the only thing separating his bed from the rest of the house, with the bathroom separate. It is tiny, small, cramped but it had been cheap and it serves his current purposes.

He hopes.

Still a new coat of paint, old furniture from home which he had inherited when his mother passed away in Azkaban that hadn't been sold or put into storage, and the place cleaned up well. He had thought of selling his old home but at Yaxley's advice he'd kept it on the market, leasing it to his old mate, Griffin, who had just tied the knot.

He feels pretty good about the whole deal even if it isn't in Diagon Alley as he had hoped. He's twenty-three, has a steady job, has moved out of home, stopped leeching off Yaxley and is not that bad looking if he says so himself.

Life was good.

He leaves his brand-new apartment and heads out, heading through the dingy alley and into the sunlight that is Diagon Alley, sidestepping people as he walks to the Leaky Cauldron, intent on getting a firewhiskey with Yaxley.

Yaxley has become like family to him – if he could call the former Death Eater that. When his mother passed right before his final NEWT exams, Yaxley stepped in, made him focus on his studies; later Yaxley took him from the Scabior Family home and into his own home. He became Scabior's closest thing to a big brother – or a father in some cases. He also taught Scabior things. Things he had never learnt at Hogwarts.

A part of him liked it, knowing that if he ever got on the receiving end of a duel he'd have some tricks up his sleeve. Another part told him that he shouldn't be learning these things.

"Scabior!"

He froze, his eyes widening. He heard hurried steps coming towards him, could feel the hand creeping forward but he turned around before her hand could brush against him.

She had changed. Gone the blood red streaks and replaced with blood red hair, which was short, spiked. Her skin was browner from the sun, her teeth shiny white and her body – well she had certainly matured from the seventeen year old girl he had farewelled six and a half years ago as they left Hogwarts on the row boats to symbolise the end of their magical education.

"Well, well – long time no see," he says, unable to keep the grin off his face.

"We should catch up,"

His eyes do another quick one over to make sure it's her.

"Defiantly, gorgeous,"

"You've gotten worse with age," she quips, "Tomorrow at the Cauldron? One?"

"Sure thing,"


Are you listening?

To be honest I tuned out five minutes ago


The Leaky Cauldron was not the classiest places to go for a date. It was shabby, had billows of smoke, was lit with poor firelight and yet every wizard in Britain regardless of status used it at some point. Even creatures like hags ventured into it and met no real opposition. It was the gateway between Magical London and Muggle London, the heart in a way.

This was where Scabior was, sitting in a table in the back, facing all the entrances. He was drinking gillywater while she had opted for Butterbeer. They were waiting for their stew to come while they talked about the past, the present and the future.

"Invisibility Task Force?"

"Yeah," he said, "Its proven a good choice – learning plenty of new magic, combines a bit of Charms and Defence though not enough Transfiguration unfortunately,"

"I can't say I picked you cleaning up after idiots who exposed our world,"

He shrugged. "It's more than that – its about completely separating the two so we don't have to deal with or think about Muggles and we can live a pure magical lifestyle without disruption – we're working on new wards that not only shield a Muggle from a place but also plant a belief they have to be somewhere else,"

She frowned slightly. "Planting ideas in people's head? Like false memories? That doesn't seem very –"

"Causes no more harm than obliviate,"

He glanced up to thank Tom as their meals were placed on their table and the old landlord left without a second glance.

She took a sip of butterbeer. "I do wonder though – all this separation ... I mean I understand the whole we shouldn't let norm – Muggles – know because they would ..."

"Start more burnings?"

"Well, no," she said, "But on our end we should learn to adapt and move about in the normal world, you know? I mean there are so many ways that they are more advanced than wiz –"

"They're Muggles," he snapped, his gut clenching. He wanted to say more but felt it best not to. She opened her mouth to continue but he quickly said. "So travelling – what did you do exactly?"

"Studied Herbology and Potions around the world – I want to become a certified brewer for St Mungos ... I would aim for Mastery but it's hard to find someone when you're muggle – well being a brewer will work up some references at least," she said with a shrug. "I also took a basic two year course in Muggle Chemistry," she added.

The glint in her eye dared him to comment on that. He wisely didn't.

What did you get?

They ran everyday once more.

Today she wasn't even bothering to wait for him, taking long strides, her face set. Her eyes had been cold when he had arrived at her flat in Muggle London and she had strolled in front of him, only saying a few words. He had hated it when she was like this at Hogwarts and hated it still now.

He had asked her and of course she had just picked up the pace. Now he was chasing her, determined to catch her. Like old times. His legs were longer, and he hadn't stopped running after school so he was always one metre behind her.

She got quicker, realising that he was at her toes and he returned the favour. They ran, and ran, and ran. He wasn't going to give up, he was going to find out and get her out of her mood. His chest was heaving, face red, sweat was dripping off his body, and he had never had to run this fast over such a distance but he stuck at it.

They hit Hyde Park, racing over green grass.

That's when he made his move. He darted forward, lunged, finger tips catching her shirt and pulling her back. She crashed back into him, knocking them both down, and he took the chance to roll on top of her, pressing his muscle against her.

"What the fuck?" she breathed, squirming.

"What's wrong?"

"This is how you ask!"

"This is how I get an answer," he said calmly, grabbing her wrists so she couldn't punch him.

"Let me up,"

"No,"

"I'll scream,"

He almost let her.

But instead he got up and they sat there in the sunrise, talking.


My hand is –

Don't complain – I had to write five pages for Defence on top of all that.


They write letters, constantly. The moment one arrives, no matter where he is, Scabior has started to mentally jot down what he can write in them. He writes mostly about the gossip at work, about Griffin and his secret skyclad escapades (she strongly disapproves of this but likes the updates), and occasionally about himself. He never writes about what Yaxley is teaching him or how he is bored to death at work or his own not-secret-unless-its-her skyclad escapades.

He doesn't tell her about nearly cursing a Muggle boy after he got called in to clean up a twelve year old muggleborn's accidental magic when the Muggle attacked her for being a 'freak'. About having to freeze his boy and just obliviate the boy and telling the girl to stay inside for the rest of the summer because that boy doesn't remember and might attack again.

Her letters amuse him – they are so unstructured compared to all her essays and the way she studied at school. There is no logical thought progression, just a stream of conscious as she tells him about living at her Potions Master's house in Melbourne, Australia. She tells him about how the Australian wizard culture lives along side and with the Muggle world – hidden still but not as separate as the rest of the world, about how the trains never run on time, about how the weather is all backwards. She writes about how much she misses her family and her friends – but never him.

She went to Australia because it was only there that she could apprentice. Slughorn wouldn't take her on despite having just granted Severus Snape his own even though when she left school Slughorn had told her he wasn't taking anyone at all, that the war had tired him out. And yet he had taken on Snape. No one in Europe or Africa would take her either.

She had left three years ago.

He never writes in his letters that he missed her. Because deep down he knows even if she was still here they probably wouldn't see each other as they move in different circles and they no longer have the common bond of studying. And yet another part says he would still see her every morning for their runs – that the running and chasing would never stop.

And yet when he stared out onto Knockturn Alley at Christmas before going to the Yaxleys, knowing that she would be experiencing the sunshine while he was in the cold, he wished that she was here.

It only took him until New Year's to write her a short letter:

I miss you.

Happy New Year's

E. Scabior

He didn't even write 'Gorgeous' this time because he had a feeling she might not take him seriously if he did even though she was that.


School is boring

Why?

The same thing happens every day


She didn't last long.

Or rather he hadn't. He wasn't really sure at this point who had first kissed who. What he did know they'd only be out for an hour, drinking and eating a lamb roast, talking about whether or not she had gotten a job yet – which she had of course. Her references made everyone else's look like crap as combined with her Mastery, her previous travels had St Mungo's practically at her beck and call.

She had returned seven months after his letter, making a mad rush to finish her Mastery. She had only sent one letter back in that time:

I miss you too

And after that they didn't need to write anymore.

They had talked, or rather he had listened, making quips here and there and eventually they had left the stuffy pub, walking to his flat and ending up in his sheets: twisting, moaning, thrusting.

Once again he thought to himself: I waited seven years to do this – I should've just taken her to the Restricted Section all those years ago.

It wasn't mind-blowing. But it was nice: soft kisses here and there; naughty: him teasing her with the flick of his tongue, sneaking up and bending her over when decided to get some water from the kitchen. It was good, wasn't just in his bed – though they ended back there in the end.

They lay beside each other, not curled up together but side by side, staring at the ceiling. She begun to sit up and he followed her, noting how the streetlight outside his window made her body glow. She looked over at him, leaning back against the headboard.

He watched her, a smile on his face.

"We should do this again sometime," he said.

"By 'this' do you mean dinner or sex or both?"

He considered it for a second. "Just dinner – you'd be desert of course,"

She blushed slightly and looked around the room. "Charmer, you are,"

He grinned.

"Holy shit – you still ..." her voice fell into silence as she left the bed and wandered over to his bookcase.

"What?"

She reached for something and spun around, holding a little red monster in her hands.

"This is cute," she said, "You kept him,"

"Well I couldn't throw out Elmo Jnr could I?"

"Under that bad boy exterior you are just one big –"

"Big? Why thank you, sweetheart"

She rolled her eyes.


Would you rather have sex with a Boggart or live with a Minotaur your whole life?

Neither

That's not a proper answer


Surprisingly enough they didn't become boyfriend and girlfriend, or become awkward around each other. When they passed each other in Diagon Alley, she shopping for ingredients and he had been buying new robes, they flashed one another a smile, organised to meet for lunch and went on their way. They still went on runs though now in the woods and fields, away from Muggles.

It was like they were back at Hogwarts – no matter what they revealed or did they always returned to that state of just being friends. They could talk to each other about anything but when it came to what they were they never talked about it. They just accepted that whatever they had they had. End of story, no discussion.

Except now they had the added sex on the side which was just sex: pure and simple.

This went on for a year and he didn't get it.

When he had been with girls in the past they had always talked about it: am I your girlfriend? Do you love me? Are you this? Are you that? – he found it annoying. Yes, he was their boyfriend. No, most times he didn't love them. He liked them yes, lusted after them but deep down he didn't love them.

She never said these things.

It seemed in some way they both understood that words, declarations of those kinds were kind of useless – both their parents proved it.

What mattered really was how they felt.

And he wasn't sure how he felt about her – he liked her very much but he wasn't sure if he liked her enough to keep her in his life or liked her enough to risk losing her.


To be continued.


Thoughts are very much appreciated :) Thanks for reading regardless though.