a/n: I love y'all's predictions; it 's fascinating hearing what you think is going to happen! I hope the reality lives up to expectations. Also, some of my most brilliant ideas (yeah, I'm modest) are based on y'all's comments about what you'd like to see happen. Speaking of which, how are we feeling about the flashbacks? I am kind of loving them….showing is SO much easier than telling. Obviously the support is my HEROIN, please keep it coming and I will keep churning out chapters! Also, rrikerR5, you asked if my characters are based on me in any way. I honestly think I am more Ginny than Leolin, though Gen can be me at my worst. I also identify a lot with Pansy. I really struggle to write characters like Amelie, because I'm not nice…If it wasn't obvious, Leolin's love and knowledge of art history stems from my own. Also, Radames is pronounced Rod-dam-mays. Just FYI.
Chapter Seven: The Ole Monsieur du Bones…
Draco was lying on his back, a naked girl on either side of him. They were both kissing his neck and touching his chest, but he was so high he hardly noticed, nor did he really care. When you have as much sex as Draco had in the last six weeks, it starts to lose it's lustre. Besides, Draco had taken a new street drug tonight called zehir, which was Turkish for poison. The man who'd sold it to him had promised it would blow Draco's mind, and it hadn't disappointed. It was a synesthetic drug, and it addled the brain and fused the senses.
He could taste the swirling laughter of his bedfellows, and he couldn't say why, but he felt like he was hearing the colour purple. Everything was going in and out of focus, but Draco had never felt so good. Of course, the highest highs always had the lowest lows, and tomorrow he likely wouldn't be able to get out of bed for the pain he was feeling.
In the six weeks since the picture of Leolin had ran in the Prophet, he'd been in London only a handful of times, and despite Blaise's insistence that he come back and face his reality, he had yet to do so. He'd started with the alcohol, but when that wasn't enough, he'd quickly escalated to drugs. Blaise had already bailed him out of jail twice, once in Istanbul and once in Barcelona, but Draco didn't care. As long as the pain of losing Leolin persisted, he would persist in chasing his next high.
"Draco," one of the girls beside him moaned. "Are you alright?"
He continued to breathe heavily, dizzied as he watched her airy voice vibrate through the air like a butterfly. Fuck, this stuff was strong.
"Draco," she repeated, her voice less breathy and more concerned. In fact, that wasn't her voice at all. He knew that voice. "Draco? Can you hear me?"
He labouriously rolled his head to the side to look at the blonde, and his heart hammered in his chest as he stared into Leolin's eyes instead. It was not the first time she'd appeared while he'd been hallucinating, but it was no less unnerving.
"Cal," he croaked.
"Draco," she said softly, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
Her voice tasted like rose petals in his mouth. He was hearing purple again.
"Because," he said. "You left me."
She tossed her head slowly back and forth.
"I still love you. Don't do this to yourself. You're destroying your body."
"I don't care."
Leolin brushed her lips to his.
"I care. Don't do this. This isn't you."
"It is," he grit out. "This is me without you."
"Draco," she replied, and his eyes slipped closed. "Draco."
"Draco."
"Draco!"
He opened his eyes again to find the blonde was back; Leolin was gone.
"Darling, someone's here for you," she said, biting his ear.
The room was spinning. Where was the other girl? He looked around. There wasn't a second girl. There never had been. He'd been seeing double of the naked bint plastered to his chest right now.
"Draco," a new voice said, and it tasted like iron shavings.
Draco struggled to sit up, his head spinning. The sheets below his fingers seemed to actually be singing. It was freaking him out.
"Draco," the shaved steel voice said again, and he found its source standing at the foot of the bed.
It was Blaise, but Draco couldn't decide if he was moving or standing still. He felt like he was going to throw up.
"Draco," Blaise repeated, his voice spinning from his mouth like a top. Draco watched the top spin and spin and spin as the gyrations grew larger. "Draco! Can you hear me! Do you know who I am?"
"Blaise," Draco slurred. "Stop moving."
"I'm not," Blaise said.
Draco pitched up into a standing position before leaning over the bed and vomiting. He looked down. It was mostly blood.
"Drake," Blaise said sternly. "I have to get you home. You're not well."
"Where am I?" Draco asked. Now he was hearing black instead of red.
"In Riga," Blaise said.
"How did I get here?"
"I honestly don't know. But everyone is worried sick about you. I have to get you back."
Draco felt as if there were invisible hands on him, pushing him back onto the mattress. There was a pinwheel on the ceiling.
"Come on," Blaise said, attempting to haul Draco up.
"No," Draco said, not sure which Blaise he was talking to: the one tugging on his left arm or the one tugging on his right. "I'm not going back."
"Everyone's worried," Blaise said. "I'm worried. Drake, you're scaring the shit out of me. How many drugs have you taken today?"
"I'm not going back," Draco said more vehemently. This was to Leolin, who stood in the corner again, shaking her head.
"You don't have a choice," Blaise said. "We're going back."
Draco jerked his arm roughly, his elbow catching Blaise in the nose, and the latter cried out in pain.
"I'm not going back," Draco said, drawing his wand. The high was wearing off, but he could still taste the wood of his sleek Italian wand. It was potent and bitter. "I'm never going back."
"Drake," Blaise said, wiping blood from his nose. "Please. I'm begging you. If you keep on this way, you'll die."
"Good," Draco said, his eyes rolling back in his head for a second as his head grew heavy.
"This is mad!" Blaise said, reaching for Draco again.
However, Draco had gained some lucidity, and he hurled a stinging jinx at Blaise, which hit him right in the face.
"Get out," he said. He could smell the jinx. It smelled putrid and sharp.
"Drake, I'm trying to help you!"
Draco threw another curse at Blaise but missed.
"I don't want your help."
Blaise, was still cradling the left half of his face, which was swollen from Draco's jinx.
"This is the last time I come after you," Blaise warned. "If I leave now, I'm not coming back for any reason."
Draco saw a pill lying on the bedside table and he picked it up, washing it down with vodka.
"Fine—go."
Blaise considered before trying to help Draco as he collapsed backwards, too exhausted to keep his head up. However, as Blaise got closer, Draco blasted him back again, where he crumpled before standing labouriously.
"Get out," Draco slurred, the new pill kicking in.
"Fine," Blaise said, his voice tight with tears. "I'm done. Please don't let the next time I see you be in the morgue."
x
Draco woke the next morning with his head pounding. He sat up, and he started when he saw Leolin standing near the door. No way was he still tripping from last night. He closed his eyes and shook his searing head, but when he opened them again she was still there. He squinted at her blearily. Everything was still fuzzy.
"Leolin?" he croaked at last.
"Twenty years ago, perhaps," the figure said stepping more fully into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Hello, Draco."
Draco's forehead was splitting in two with pain.
"Ariadne," he said, wincing as he turned his head and one eye went temporarily black. "What are you doing here?"
"Blaise Zabini showed up at my house last night scared half to death. He's worried about you; we all are."
"What do you care?" Draco said sullenly, driving two hands into his hair and gently tugging in an effort to relieve some of the throbbing in his skull. "Leolin's gone. You don't have to pretend to like me anymore."
"I care very much," Ariadne said. "I care because I love Leolin and I know seeing you like this would destroy her, and also because it makes me ache to see you suffer. You're very bright, Draco. To throw that away would be a terrible waste."
"Leave me alone," Draco said tiredly. "I don't want or need your pity."
Ariadne gave him a critical look before frowning concernedly.
"I know you've convinced yourself that no one in the world understands how you feel, Draco, but you're wrong; I do."
"No you don't!" Draco spit. "You have no idea how I feel."
"Yes," she repeated. "I do. In fact, I am the only person who does. Some days I hate Leolin so much that I hope I never see her again, and others I am so desperate to hold her that I would do anything to have her back. I know you feel like Leolin is the only person you ever truly loved, and so do I. I will always care very deeply for Leolin's father, but nothing, no one, has set my world on fire the way Leolin did the day she was born. She was my everything, and I always told myself that as long as I had her I didn't need anyone else."
Ariadne stopped, her throat tightening as she struggled to go on. When she looked up, two tears had run down her cheeks.
"I know what agony this is for you. That's why I want you to come back to London with me. Why I need you to come back. I can't go through this alone anymore. Please, come back home and we can help each other through."
Draco bowed his head forward, completely disarmed by her words.
"Draco," she said, touching his cheek. "I know you're sick with grief, but please, let me help you. Leolin loved you more than anything, and you are the last part of her I have left. If I lose you I will never forgive myself. If I lose you, I—I lose her, too."
Draco's heart was pounding as he considered. His jaw aching as he tried to remain stoic.
"Please," she said desperately. "Come back with me and we can keep her alive together."
His stoicism began to crumble as he felt her earnest and loving gaze sweep over him, and reading his expression, she folded him into her slight arms, soothingly stroking his hair as he began to weep like a child.
Leolin sat on the patio and watched the searing dawn claw open the sky, sending fiery ribbons of bright light across the mirrored surface of the pool and the choppy waves just beyond the beach.
Gen had returned around half three, evidentially to make up with Draco, and Leolin had been woken up by the intensity of their love-making as they reunited. It started with the headboard, but as she more fully regained consciousness, she could hear Draco softly moaning Gen's name.
At first she was furious at him again, seething that he was so intent on punishing her. However, as she tried to block out Gen's breathy sighs of pleasure, she realized they weren't exaggerating the experience for her benefit. If anything, they were trying to be quiet, and this realization was more painful than the idea that Draco was trying to hurt her.
Leolin leapt out of a bed at once, covering her ears as she ran across the hall, knocking on Ieuan's door. He answered a minute later, his hair a mess and eyes bleary.
"You alright, Lefevre?" he said, yawning.
"Can I come sleep with you tonight?" she asked sheepishly, and his eyes flitted to Draco's door before he nodded.
"Of course," he said, tucking her under one arm and kissing her temple. "Come in."
Ieuan had fallen back asleep immediately, and Leolin listened to the soothing swish of his breathing as she tried to wrap her head around the emotional turbulence of the night. Being here was like swimming upstream, and she was already so exhausted that she felt unable to go on. She knew she had to dig deep, as much for Draco as for herself, but part of her was scared to delve farther into her feelings. These were dark parts of her heart she hadn't explored in years, and even she wasn't sure what she might dredge up down there.
She'd finally fallen back into a discontented sleep around four fifteen, but it only lasted forty-five minutes or so. She had a dream where she had no voice, and she couldn't tell Draco the truth because he couldn't hear her. After that, Draco married Gen in a Muggle cathedral full of snakes as Adrian Pucey locked her in chains and threw her in the ocean.
She woke with a start, her heart hammering as she sat up. Her mind was racing faster than her heart, and she was experiencing so many emotions simultaneously that she honestly felt nauseous. She needed a tether. She needed something concrete to focus on so she could escape her headspace for a bit and regroup. After last night, Gen would be hitting it hard as ever. Leolin needed to be ready to hit back.
She rose quietly and went to her own room, fetching an arm-full of dusty tomes about the magic of binding contracts and bringing them out onto the patio. The complexity of the material would demand her full attention, and she would feel better knowing she was even a fraction of an inch closer to showing Draco the truth.
She currently sat chewing on the end of an already-knarled quill, re-reading the same line over an over again.
If one imagines the stipulations of a binding contract as a series of locks, there are two ways to unlock them all: first, one may forge a unique key to unlock each individually. Alternatively, one may design a skeleton key and unlock them all simultaneously. Quite simply, the quickest way to break a contract is to determine the thematic nature of the charm that binds all the stipulations into a singular contract and break that charm.
Leolin considered this. Last time, Leolin had focused on each line of the contract individually, designing a charm to counteract it before moving on to the next line. However, if she could follow the book's advice and break all the stipulations individually, she had a chance of breaking the gag order before the wedding.
Leolin looked up again, surprised to see a figure on the beach this early. Even from a distance she could tell it was Draco. He wore a thin white t-shirt, and she could see his toned chest underneath. As he grew closer she realized he had a dog with him, and she frowned. Surely that couldn't be his.
His eyes were on her as he reached the manicured deck, an elegant Doberman on his heels. At seeing her, the dog perked up at once, coming over to stiff her and assess her threat level. Leolin gently extended a hand for his to sniff, which he did dubiously. However, he must have smelled something he liked, because he suddenly sat down beside her. She reached an exploratory hand out to pet the soft black fur on the top of his head, and when he didn't bite her hand off, she pet him more vigourously, scratching behind his tall ears and under his chin.
Draco took a seat on the lounger next to hers, watching them.
"He likes you," he said simply, and she didn't look up at him.
She hadn't forgotten the things he'd said to her last night. This time around, she wasn't going to forgive his misguided tantrums so easily.
"What's his name?" she asked, running a hand down the dog's soft snout.
"Radames," Draco replied. "He was a birthday gift from your mother three years ago."
Leolin looked up from petting Radames for the first time to find Draco studying her keenly.
"He's beautiful," she said tightly at last. "Was he at your flat the other day? I didn't see him."
Draco shook his head. "He was at the trainer's in London. I just picked him up this morning."
"This early?"
"It was midday there," he pointed out, and she nodded, feeling stupid.
"Right," she said blandly. "Of course."
"I'm surprised he's being this friendly; he's usually very wary of strangers. Maybe he knows you're your mother's daughter."
"I never imagined you as a dog-owner," she admitted, trying not to flinch as Draco rand a hand down the glossy fur of Radames's head as well.
"I'm a lot of things now that I wasn't before I met your mum, including a good man, though I admit that bit comes and goes."
She looked down at Radames again, too pained to reply to that comment, but he covered her hand with his to get her attention. She jerked hers away and gave a hurt frown before standing up and walking away.
"Wait," he said softly. "Can we talk?"
"I think you did enough talking last night," she said, setting the niceties aside so she could finally speak plainly. "So I don't really want to hear it."
He rose, and Radames rose with him.
"Lefevre," he began, but she simply rolled her eyes and made to walk back into the house. "Leolin," he said more purposefully, grabbing her wrist.
"Don't touch me," she snapped, rubbing the skin as if he'd burned her.
He held up his hands and took a step back.
"I'm sorry. Just please listen to me."
She crossed her arms sullenly across her chest. When he was convinced she wasn't going to walk away, he began to speak.
"Look," he said, stepping towards her again. She stepped back in response. "I'm—I'm sorry about the way I acted last night. You were right; it was unfair of me to blame what happened on you. I know it wasn't your fault. I know none of it was your fault and I—I was bang out of order blaming you."
She tried not to let her misery show.
"Then why did you?" she said.
He looked away, the long muscles in his jaw clenching.
"Partly because you were just unlucky enough to be standing there," he admitted. "And also because after what happened between us—now, whenever I'm feeling mad or stressed, you just pop into my mind and I automatically start reliving the day I found out you weren't coming back."
"Sorry," she said quietly, not actually sure what she was sorry for.
"Look, this whole thing hasn't been easy for me, but you should know that even when I hated you, there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't regret what I did to you and Troy. I admit it was selfish and cruel and—you didn't deserve that, and neither did Troy, so I'm sorry. And you were right: you did forgive me. Perhaps it's time I did the same."
"Last night was the last time I let you bully me," she said softly. "Next time you do I'm leaving, and I'm going to take my family with me. I know you and my mum love each other, but I guarantee you that she won't choose you over me."
He nodded, looking away.
"Fine."
They silent a moment before Draco picked up one of the books she'd been reading.
"Why are you reading about contract law?" he asked. "This all looks terribly boring."
She hastily grabbed the book from his hand and closed it.
"It is boring," she affirmed. "But it's for work. I'm—freelancing for a friend at the moment."
He scrutinized her.
"What exactly was your job in Florence? You've never said, though if your wardrobe is any indication, it was very lucrative."
"That's terribly boring, too, I'm afraid," she said.
He gave a cool look to express his annoyance before standing up and walking off a ways. Radames immediately picked his head up from where he'd laid it in Leolin's lap and trotted after Draco obediently.
"What does Gen think of Radames?"
Draco smiled grimly, stroking Radames's soft head again.
"I don't think it would surprise you to learn she doesn't like him."
"Not particularly, no," Leolin admitted.
"She a bit skiddish around dogs to begin with, and they're both very territorial," Draco explained. "I think they both feel they have to compete for my affection."
"You do realize you are comparing your fiancée to your dog, don't you?" Leolin asked dryly.
"Radames is more than just my dog," Draco said sharply, though he quickly regained control of his tone and continued more neutrally. "He's a symbol of your mother's faith in me. Gen isn't really crazy about that bit either, I suppose. She wants me to get rid of him when we get married."
"And are you going to?"
"Hell no. He was here first."
"I thought you told me that you never deny Gen anything?"
"I just said that to torture you," he said a bit spitefully. "I deny her things all the time. Usually the more insistent she gets, the more adamantly I refuse. It's like a little game."
"Yes, I remember it well."
"No, it wasn't like that for you. I spoiled you; I gave you almost everything you asked for. I'm not nearly as lenient with Gen."
"Why not?" she asked.
He turned to give her a piercing look.
"I learned my lesson."
They were silent again, and Leolin's gaze felt to the ink on Draco's side as he rested his hands on the top of his head.
"Draco?" she said.
"Leolin?" he replied as he always had, not turning from the sunrise to address her.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You just have."
"Then I'm going to ask you another."
"Go on, then."
"Why didn't you get rid of that tattoo?"
She could see his shoulders tensing, but he didn't answer.
"The falcon, I mean."
"I know what you meant," he countered before shrugging. "And I kept it because I like it."
"And what does Gen think about it?" Leolin asked boldly.
Draco turned, his face somewhere between annoyed and amused.
"She likes it," Draco said, smiling a little. "She loves it, in fact."
"Does she know what it means?" Leolin asked.
Draco gave her a pointed look.
"It doesn't mean anything anymore."
There was probably more Leolin could have said, but just then Gen appeared in a lilac satin slip and a soft cotton robe, smiling at Draco as if Leolin weren't there. At seeing her, Radames began to growl quietly.
"Ça suffit!" Draco said, and Gen instantly came to Draco's arms, and Radames flopping down at Draco's feet, huffing his discontent.
"Va-t'en!" Draco murmured, nudging Radames with his foot. "Go on."
Annoyed at being chided, Radames padded back over to Leolin, lying down next to her chair instead.
"I hear you," Leolin muttered quietly, pretending to work as she savagely fought not to listen to them. "I don't like her either."
"You look tired," Gen was saying to Draco, running a hand through his hair.
"Well I didn't get much sleep last night," he said huskily.
"I know," she replied in the same tone. "I think that's my fault."
Draco gave a deep laugh.
"Don't even apologize for what you did last night," Draco said, and Gen gave a musical chuckle.
"Morning," Ginny said, interrupting their moment.
Leolin could have kissed her.
"Ginny!" Gen cried, and Ginny turned her back and rolled her eyes as Gen came over. "I'm so sorry about last night. Beau can be such a brute. If I'd known Ashley was going to invite him I would have told him no. You know that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you."
"Thank you," Ginny said tightly. "But it's Blaise you should be apologizing to, not me."
"I know, and I will. Where is he?"
"Still sleeping," Ginny said. "He and I didn't get much last night."
"I hope you're not too tired. We're going to New Orleans today, remember?"
Leolin and Ginny traded a look. They were going with Gen and a gaggle of her friends to pick out a wedding dress, and it was difficult to say who was dreading it more: Ginny or Leolin.
"How could I forget," Ginny said, giving a weak smile.
She was still determined, it seemed, to be cordial to Gen for Draco's sake.
"Leolin," Gen said, turning to give her a friendly smile. "You'll have to keep us all awake. It seems you were the only one who got any sleep!"
"Who says?" Ieuan asked, loping onto the deck and high-fiving Leolin. "She didn't get a wink either."
He winked at Leolin, and she laughed in spite of herself.
"What do you mean?" Gen asked, giving a pretty, albeit confused, smile.
"We have a magical night together," Ieuan said dreamily. "She fucked the gay right out of me. Right, Lai?"
Ginny laughed, but Draco rolled his eyes.
"Knock it off, Bird. You're not funny."
"Weasley thinks I am," Ieuan said proudly.
"Weasley is a laugh slut," Draco said. "She will laugh at anything."
Ginny shrugged.
"Sad, but true."
"So," Ieuan continued, pouring himself a mimosa. "Are we going to talk about how awkward last night was, or have yous already discussed it?"
"There's nothing to discuss," Draco said pointedly. "It's over."
Ieuan raised his eyebrows.
"Okay, fine! All I will say is, thank Merlin I couldn't convince Luke to come. Then it really would have gotten awkward."
"Blaise and I appreciate it," Ginny said. "We prefer to be the token social aberration, if possible."
"That's enough, both of you," Draco said, and Ieuan winked at Ginny, making her laugh again.
Gen looked at Leolin, feigning genuine interest. Merlin, she was a good actress. "What are you working on, Leolin?"
"Work," Leolin said, closing the last book before assembling them in a pile and vanishing them. Draco watched her with bright eyes.
He was the one who had helped her perfect conjuration and vanishment. They were both rather thorny forms of Transfiguration, but he had always been very good at them.
"What exactly is it that you do?" Ginny asked suspiciously.
Leolin chewed her lip. If she kept avoiding the questions, their misgivings would only grow. Better to give them something now and get them of her back.
"I—detangle contracts for my employer."
"You're a bind-breaker?" Ginny demanded. "Is that even legal?"
"Yes, strictly speaking," Leolin said.
"Strictly-speaking," Ieuan said delightedly. "I love it."
"Who's your employer?" Ginny asked, but Leolin was frowning.
She didn't like the look Draco was giving her. It felt like he was stumbling on to something he shouldn't be.
"She works for the Borgia," he spit, and Leolin fought no outwardly react. "Still does, apparently."
Leolin couldn't hide the look of alarm on her face. Draco raised his eyebrows in challenge.
"What?" he drawled. "You really thought you could keep your association with them a secret from me?"
"I wasn't keeping anything a secret," Leolin defended. "Let's talk about something else," Leolin said, and Draco shook his head in disgust and turned his back to her.
"What's the story with today?" Ginny said, looking at Gen, who smiled magnificently.
She probably had no clue who the Borgia even were or why they mattered, but they fact that they'd sown rife between Draco and Leolin pleased her immensely. Leolin shook her head. Despite her best efforts, it really did feel like Gen was heading her off at every turn.
"We're leaving here around noon. We'll be back in the early evening. Are y'all going to be able to manage here without us?" Gen asked Draco, sitting on his lap.
His sat back a little so she could drape both legs across his thighs and thread her hands into his hair. Last night might not have been a show intended for Leolin, but this certainly was. Draco was mad about the Borgia, and he wanted Leolin to know it. She clenched her jaw, wishing Severina were there.
"What are you going to give me if I say yes?" Draco said in a low voice.
Gen laughed as she bent to whisper something in his ear. Leolin's stomach clenched as Draco face split into a dazzling smile in response.
"If that's really true," Draco said. "I'm sure we'll manage."
Leolin stood up abruptly, and Ieuan shot her a sympathetic look.
"I'm going to shower and make a floo call. I—will be ready by noon."
Still feeling sick, Leolin hurried off.
New Orleans was the oldest Wizarding cities in the United States, and though that made it a fairly young city by Old World standards, it was home to some of the oldest and most powerful magic.
The city itself wasn't founded until 1718, but most of it's magic had bled up from the surrounding Bayous and the nearby island of Haiti, and the magic found in those places was old as time itself. Wizards practicing in the Caribbean in the first centuries of the Modern era weren't bound by the same moral strictures their counterparts in Athens are Rome were, and the result was the cradle for sure of the greatest and most terrible magic ever made.
Mostly wrongly believe that the horcruxes had been invented by an Ancient Greek sorcerer called Herpo the Foul, but it reality their origins were much more recent. The first horcrux was created in the seventeenth century when a Creole witch killed her cheating husband out of jealousy then tore her soul in two in grief and same for what she'd done. This legacy of darkness, danger, and depravity still clung to the city, and Leolin could feel it making the hairs on her neck stand up as she and Ginny walked arm and arm down the cobblestones street later than day.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Leolin grumbled. "Why are we even here?"
"I'm here so Gen can try to force me into indentured friendship," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "I'm not sure why you are. To torture you a bit, I suppose."
She glanced at Leolin, who was visibly uneasy.
"Hey," she said. "Are you alright?"
Leolin nodded.
"Fine. I don't know what Gen is hoping to accomplish here. I know she's marrying Draco already; she's not going to shock me into a manic depression by making me watch her try on sixty different boring dresses."
Ginny laughed.
"Well, you should know that she found out that Blaise helped you pick your dress out, and she whined to Draco for weeks. Blaise told her it was the kind of thing he'd only do for family."
Leolin smiled, squeezing Ginny's hand.
"Well that's sweet," Leolin said. "But Blaise didn't do that for me. The only way I could get him to agree to come was by dangling you in his face, First he demanded I get you to agree to drinks and dinner, but I negotiated him down to sitting next to you at the salon. He literally made me sign a contract saying I would have to give him Draco's Vanquish if he wasn't satisfied with the progress he made with you."
Ginny laughed.
"You can never tell him this ever, but I was already desperately in love with him by the time we went shopping for your dress. If you'd let him take me to dinner, I would have secretly been thrilled."
"He really is your Leolin," Leolin said, both warmed and pained by the depth of Ginny affection for Blaise.
At least someone was happy.
"I didn't know it was possible to love anyone so much," Ginny admitted.
Leolin glanced side-long at her.
"It's a lovely feeling, isn't it?"
"It's a bit terrifying, actually."
"That's what makes it so lovely," Leolin said.
"Ready, you two? We can't be late." Gen called, already arm in arm with a nasty little brunette friend called Hyacinthe.
Leolin stomach bubbled uncomfortably.
"I wish I'd thought to bring a flask."
"They will be serving champagne," Ginny said. "Let's just hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast."
Leolin nodded grimly and stepped into the shop, where three or so other girls were fawning over Gen now as well. When Ginny and Leolin entered, Gen turned.
"Ladies, I would like y'all to meet Ginevra, Draco's best man's fiancée's, and her friend Leolin."
"Oh," a willowy blonde said, eying Ginny. "You're the one marrying that gorgeous caramel fellow. My, he is a dream."
"I guess I am," Ginny said tightly. "And thank you, I suppose."
"Ginevra, Leolin, this is Delilah, Ashley's sister," Gen said, gesturing to the blonde. "Lillian," she pointed to a shorter, plumper blonde. "And Savannah." Savannah looked like a female Adrian Pucey, and Leolin immediately wanted to kill her.
"Ladies," The shop owner said. "Shall we sit down? Ms. Beauchene, if you would follow me please."
The next few hours were some of the most tedious of Leolin's entire life, and she and Ginny drank six glasses of champagne as Genevieve tried on gown after gown after gown. In her usual fashion, all of the ones Gen chose were exceedingly delicate and, in many cases, almost maddeningly modest. Still, she wore them with an air of superiority, seeming to suggest that a bride who chose anything else was somehow less of a lady.
By the third hour Leolin had fallen into something of a polite stupour, and she wished Gen would just pick something so she could go home. She had a pounding headache, and the oppressively dense heat was making her nauseous.
"Alright," Genevieve called. "I'm trying something a little different. Let me know what you think."
Leolin looked up, and her heart literally fell out of her heart, sizzling hotly in the acid in her stomach. Gen was wearing Leolin's wedding dress. Of course it wasn't the same design, but it was similar enough to make Leolin's hands tremble.
"Oh Leolin!" Ginny said at last, her hand inadvertently falling on Blaise's knee as Leolin twirled for them. "It's absolutely incredible!" She turned to Blaise, who seemed more engaged than he had been all afternoon. "Don't you think?"
He turned to acknowledge Ginny, his eyes reluctant to leave her and look at Leolin. "I agree with Weasley. You're perfection in this."
"Darling, it's gorgeous," her mother said. "It was made for you."
The dress was made of the most delicate Spanish lace, with off the shoulder long sleeves and a silhouette that followed her natural contours flawlessly. It trailed behind her effortlessly.
Leolin bit her lip, staring into the mirror and clearly fighting up the urge to cry.
"Narcissa? You haven't said a word. What do you think?"
Leolin was met with silence, and she turned.
"Narcissa?"
Leolin turned, stunned by what she was faced with. Narcissa was biting her lip, fighting not to cry.
"It's stunning, Leolin," she said at last, and she even met eyes with Ariadne for a moment. "I think Draco will love it."
Somewhere, Leolin was dimly aware that Gen was speaking again. Leolin couldn't hear her over the ringing in her ears. Ginny touched her knee gently.
"This is one of Leolin's stepmother's designs," Gen explained.
She was standing with her back to them as they all admired her, and Gen's warm chocolate eyes found Leolin's in the mirror.
"What do you think, Leolin?" she asked innocently. "I'm channeling you; I can imagine you wearing something like this and outshining everyone."
She gave a lovely laugh to accompany what outwardly seemed like a compliment. It wasn't, of course; it was one the cruelest and most grievous insults Leolin had ever suffered.
Leolin mouth was so dry it felt like she had swallowed a pint of ash, and her hands were shaking so furiously she had to cross her arms to keep it from showing. She'd never wanted to kill Gen so much in all her life.
"I—it's—I like it," Leolin choked, not knowing what else to say. Of course she liked it; she'd chosen it.
"I don't know," Savannah chimed. "It' isn't really you, Gigi. I don't like how much skin is exposed."
"Really?" Gen asked innocently. "You don't think it looks good?"
It was clear that she'd only put it on so her friends could tear it to shreds in front of Leolin.
"It looks good," Hyacinthe explained. "It's just sort of, I don't know—"
"Slutty," Savannah finished for her. "Like you're trying too hard."
"I don't think Draco would appreciate you showing that much skin," a third friend, whose name Leolin hadn't particularly cared to learn, chimed. "I think he's going to prefer something more—traditional. Classic, I guess."
"Annabelle, you've met Draco twice," Gen said blandly to the girl. "Believe me when I tell you have no fucking clue what Draco likes. And I disagree completely," Ginny cut in fiercely. "It's gorgeous. "But it's all wrong for you Genevieve. I'm sorry, but you could never pull this off."
This earned Ginny a disapproving frown from the other girls, but she wasn't done. Gen's eyes were fierce as well.
"You're right," Ginny spit at Gen. "This is the kind of thing only Leolin should be allowed to wear. Unfortunately, it's just a tragedy on anyone else. Besides, I hate to be so blunt, but you just don't have the figure for this dress. It was made for an hourglass; you're a stick, darling. You'd need bigger breasts and curvier hips."
Here Gen looked downright insulted, though she only let that expression show for a second before letting it fade to something blithe.
"You ought to stick to something more plain," Ginny finished, eyes flashing. "That style suits you much better."
If Leolin wasn't so shaken she would have kissed Ginny. Gen opened her mouth to defend herself, already acting wounded, but she was interrupted by Leolin's floo smoking.
"Sorry," Leolin said, standing. "It's my mum. I'm just going to pop outside and answer this."
Grateful for a reason to leave, Leolin flicked open the floo just as she exhaled a shaky breath, shocked tears already in her eyes.
"Mum," she said as she stepped into the sunshine.
"Leolin," Ariadne said, sounding relieved. "Are you alright? I just got a message from Ginny saying I needed to floo you right this second."
"Yes," Leolin said, giving another huge sigh. "Sorry. It's nothing to worry about. I was having a—moment."
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"Gen's trying on wedding dresses," Leolin said, taking off down the street a bit to calm he nerves. "And she just tried one that looked just like mine."
"Oh sweetheart."
Leolin was choking back tears now.
"How did she know?"
Ariadne gave a concerned sigh.
"There was a burglary at Amelie's shop about six weeks after you left. Rita Skeeter claimed that an anonymous source had shown her the dress, and of course she'd posted it in the Prophet. She ended up having to serve six months house arrest for possession of stolen property, but she claimed it was worth it. She said the world deserved to know what they'd been denied when you called off the wedding."
"Oh gods," Leolin breathed, trying to stay calm. "What am I going to do if she chooses that one?"
"She won't," Ariadne reassured her. "She could never pull something like that off and she knows it."
"That's what Ginny said," Leolin said, feeling better.
"Besides," Ariadne said warmly. "That dress was designed for an hourglass figure like yours. Gen is too thin to properly fill it out."
"Ginny said that, too" Leolin said, laughing.
"Well great minds think alike. How's it going down there?" Ariadne asked seriously. "Are you alright? I worry about you."
"It's hard," Leolin admitted. "But nothing I can't handle, I promise."
"Sweetheart, I—"
Leolin wasn't listening, though. She rounded the corner and was looking down a darker, more narrow alley just ahead, where she distinctly saw Augustus Rookwood look around to make sure he wasn't being followed before disappearing into a small side door. That was odd. What the hell was Rookwood doing in New Orleans? He was the Liaison for Foreign Travel, but his jurisdiction only covered Europe. Langdon Ecclestone was the American liaison. Besides, whatever Rookwood was doing, it was far from official.
A second after Rookwood disappeared, a young man apparated into the alley, an extremely frail hooded figure at his side. He helped the weak old man to the door, pounding on it three times. As he looked around nervously, Leolin could see the odd gold flecks in his eyes glinting in the sun, and her heart stopped. She would know that face from a thousand miles away. It was Adrian Pucey.
"Mum," Leolin interrupted. "I have to go. I love you, call you later."
Before her mother could protest, she hung up, pulse pounding in her ears. She didn't know quite why, but something about this made her blood run cold. She knew she'd seen Adrian at King's Cross the other day. What the hell was he doing in New Orleans? Something told her that she didn't actually want the answer to that. The door has swung open to admit him by this time, and she chewed her lip, mind racing as she tried to decide what she wanted to do. She hadnt forgotten how he'd threatened her the last time she'd seen him, and he wasn't likely to thank her for interrupted whatever nefarious act he was engaged in now. Still, she was a world-renowned thief. Perhaps she could sneak in and find out what he was up to before he caught her.
She stuffed her floo in her purse before taking off across the square separating her from the alley. When she'd been completed swallowed by the shade of the covered corridor, she approached the door cautiously, examining the larger structure as well. She couldn't a single other point of entry, whether it be another door or a window. She raised her fist to pound on the door, but eventually thought better of it. What if Adrian answered?
She backed away several steps, chewing her lip. What were they doing here? Who was the old man they'd had with them? Leolin thought about what Harry had said about Lucius being a seat-warmer and shuddered. Surely that couldn't have been—no, she thought. He was dead.
Just across the alley was a sleepy little apothecary, and Leolin eyed it for a moment before slipping inside. The interior was dark, and it was empty save for a bent old man with skin the colour of dark coffee. He was making a shrunken head.
He looked up at her approach, and his eyes were milk white. He was blind.
"Kisa mwen ka fè pou ou, pitit mwen yo?" he said in a low, slow rumble.
She didn't recognize the dialect, but she assumed it was probably Haitian Creole. It was close enough to French that she understood most of it. He'd asked her what she wanted.
She swallowed.
"Je veux savoir dont la boutique se trouve en face de la vôtre," she said, pointing across the way to the worn door.
He tsked quietly, shaking his head as his hands worked.
"You want to know about Jean du Bones?" he said. "Don't ask, pitit. Don't ask about ole Jean du Bones."
"Who is Jean du Bones?" she said.
"Don't ask, pitit," he repeated. "Ole Jean, he twist the laws of Magic. He's a crooked ferryman who paddles up and down the dark river."
"What are you talking about? What does any of that mean?" she demanded, feeling agitated.
Why did everyone here insist on talking in circles.
"All men die, petit. No men come back. No men but them who go to ole Jean du Bones."
"What is he?" Leolin asked. "What kind of magic is it that he practices?"
"li se yon nekromanyen," the man said, still weaving, rocking slightly as he did so. "Nekromanyen."
"A necromancer?" she asked, her blood running cold again.
"Shh, shh, shh, pitit," the man said, blank eyes watching her. "Don't ask. Only dead men ask."
"Is that even possible?" she said. "Can he really bring people back from the dead?"
"Charon ferried the souls in Old Rome," the man said. "But he only ferried one way. Ole Jean, he change the river's flow."
"So, it's true? There's a necromancer in New Orleans?"
"Shh, pitit, don't ask; only dead men ask."
Leolin thought about the old man again. No, surely it wasn't possible…Necromancy was a sinister myth. No one could come back from the dead.
"Don't ask, pitit. Only dead men ask."
She nodded, unnerved to feel like the blind man was watching her.
"Merci," she said, slinking out of the alley.
Holy Hell. She needed to talk to Harry. Hopefully he'd be at the tournament tomorrow. It wasn't something she wanted to discuss over the floo. She didn't know who Jean du Bones was, but whatever Adrian and Augustus were up to was bad; she needed to begin amassing the troops at once. She looked at her watch as she crossed the plaza, swearing.
She'd been gone for over twenty minutes; they were probably wondering where she was. Bollocks, what was she supposed to tell them? She didn't want to explain what she'd seen to Ginny in front of the others. She would wait until they got home. In the meantime, she needed an excuse…
"Leolin?"
She looked up, groaning as she did so.
"Max," she said, folding her arms casually across her chest so he couldn't hug her. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," he pointed out, drinking her in again.
"Gen's shopping for a wedding dress. What about you?"
He shrugged.
"I love New Orleans. I come here whenever I have free time. It's so—mysterious." He smiled. "Don't you think?"
"Very," she said, thinking about what the old man had said about a Necromancer.
"New Orleans is like the Bahston of the South. I feel a weird kinship with the people here, I don't know why."
"Is Boston where you're from?"
"Yeah," he said. "Have you even been?"
She shook her head.
"This is my first trip to the United States."
"Bahston is wicked ahsome. You should go there sometime."
"Maybe," she said, watching as his eyes skimmed around the curve of the lock at her throat.
She touched it self-consciously.
"I would take you any time you wahnted, if you'd let me be your tour guide."
Merlin, American men were forward.
"I'm not sure I'll be back anytime soon. I don't think America agrees with me."
"That's just the South," he said. "You would love New England."
"That's a bold statement," she pointed out, distracted. "Seeing as you don't really know me."
"I could know you better," he pointed out confidently. "If you'd let me."
"Why are you so interested?" she said snapped at last.
This question caught him off guard, and he laughed.
"What man wouldn't be interested in you? He'd have to be crazy."
Draco, for one, she wanted to say.
"So you want to take me out because you think I'm beautiful?"
"Yes."
"Okay. What else?"
He fumbled.
"What else is there?" He asked at last.
She turned her head away to indicate this was the wrong answer.
"Fuck, no, I didn't mean that."
She turned back.
"What did you mean, then?" she asked.
"I—" he choked, and she raised her eyebrows.
This was tedious. She wanted to go home. She needed to talk to Blaise and Ginny and Draco, if he was willing.
"I just meant that I can't stop thinking about you since last night."
"I think you're over-romanticizing me, Max. I'm really not that great. If you don't believe me, ask Draco. He'd be happy to tell you."
"Look," Max said, fumbling. He was clearly unaccustomed to rejection. "I'm not trying to marry you, I just—"
"What?" she demanded. "Want to have sex with me?"
"Merlin, you have a quick tongue," he said, and she gave him a withering look.
"That wasn't an innuendo!" he defended, laughing hopelessly. "You're just making me really nervous!"
"I don't know why," she said frankly. "All I asked is what you find so alluring about me besides my legs and my neckline. It's the kind of question you either have an answer for or you don't."
"I do have an answer!" he said.
"Great. I'm all ears."
"Well, you're wicked smaht, for one. And you're not afraid to give it back, which is really refreshing. I get the sense you're funny, when you want to be, and I think it's hot you speak French."
She groaned, laughing a little in spite of herself as she headed back towards the salon.
"Wait!" he cried, jogging after her. "What did I say wrong? At least tell me that."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I just have to go."
She was thinking about what the old man had said about the Necromancer again, and it set her on edge. Maybe one of the others would have heard about him. However, just as she made to open the door to the salon, it swung outward.
"Merlin," Gen said concernedly, seeing Leolin. "I was getting ready to call the Aurors. Where were you?"
"Sorry Genny," Max cut in, kissing her cheek. "That's my fault."
"Maximus," she said delightedly, eyes flicking between him and Leolin. "What are you doing here?"
"I just got back from Beau's," he said vaguely, and though Gen seemed to understand the nature of their visit, Ginny gave an audible groan.
"Now I'm trying to convince Leolin to at least have one beer with me," he said.
"I'm not much of a beer drinker," Leolin lied, and Ginny gave her a look.
Leolin shook her head to indicate they would talk about it later. Her eyes slid across Gen again, and heart clenched. Leolin hadn't forgotten her little trick from earlier, and despite the Necromancer and Max and everything else, she still sorely longed to punish Gen. She narrowed her eyes. Someday soon she would.
"A cocktail, then," he said, shooting a wink at Gen as she smiled warmly at Leolin.
"Oh go on, Leolin," she said, giving her an encouraging smile. "Go have some fun. You deserve it after sitting through today. I know it was long."
"I can't," Leolin said, fighting to remain cordial. She didn't want to tip her hand to Gen. "I have to get back."
"You're on vacation," Gen said, smiling. "What hurt could one tiny drink do?"
"Exactly," Max chimed. "Thank you, Genny."
"If she doesn't want to go she doesn't have to," Ginny snapped.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Leolin," Gen said apologetically, looking contrite. "I didn't mean to push. I just thought it might be fun."
"She makes a good point," Max said, and Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Come on, Lai. Let's go home."
"Please, Lefevre, one drink," Max said. "One drink, and I never ever in my life bother you again. Ever."
Leolin considered. She doubted he'd keep that promise, but hopefully if she was mean enough to him he'd tuck tail and back off.
"Fine," Leolin said. "One drink. But if your eyes fall below my nose even one time, I'm leaving."
He looked her straight in the eye unflinchingly.
"Done."
Perhaps there was more than one upside to this. It would make Draco fretful and distracted when he heard where she'd gone. Let him fret. Let him fret and spit and hiss all night and make Gen miserable. Besides, Max said he loved New Orleans; maybe he knew something about some of its darker secrets.
"Gin, I'll see you in a bit."
Ginny frowned, but Leolin nodded her off.
"Don't worry," Leolin said, squeezing her arm reassuringly. "I think I'm in good hands."
"You are," Gen said. "Quite good, I hear."
"Gen!" Max laughed, and Ginny glared at him.
"If I suspect you've been anything less than a gentleman," she warned. "I will set Blaise on you. I know he seems mild, but I assure you he can be very scary."
Leolin sighed, trying to set aside her frustration and uneasiness as she looked up at Max. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it right.
"Should we go?"
Leolin trudged up the beach what felt like a lifetime later. She was a little drunk and she'd accidentally apparated too far from the house. Now she was trekking back miserably, wanting nothing more than to brush her teeth and go to bed. All things considered, it hadn't been a terrible evening, though Max had never heard of any Necromancer in New Orleans and she hadn't wanted to push the issue.
The minute she stepped foot on the deck, she heart Radames's sharp, staccato barks. There must have been a magical barrier around the patio he couldn't cross, because he prowled along the edge, watching the darkness.
"Shh!" she whispered desperately as she approached. "Shh, it's just me! Ne fas! It's me! It's Leolin!"
When he was close enough that he could smell her he stopped barking.
"Radames," a voice called. "Allons, tais-toi."
Draco had been sitting on one of the chairs, and at Rodames's barking he'd risen to his feet, eyes somewhat unkind. Leolin groaned.
"You're just getting home?" he demanded as the dog came to sit at his feet. "It's late."
"Thank you, Mum," Leolin said pointedly. "I will try to be home by curfew next time."
Draco folded his arms across his bare chest.
"You upset my dog."
Leolin looked at Radames, who was sitting obediently next to his master, panting contentedly.
"He looks fine to me," she said, noticing a full glass on one of the side tables.
She traipsed over to it, taking a sip. It was a gin and tonic. She took another.
"Where you waiting up for me?" she asked.
He came over, taking the glass from her and wiping her lipstick from the rim before taking a sip himself.
"Why would I do that?" he asked, looking down at her with an expression that was either teasing or threatening,
"I don't know," she asked, reaching for the glass again. "That's why I asked."
He held it out of her reach.
"Get your own," he said.
"Fine," she snapped, whistling to the dog as she padded over to the wet bar.
Draco watched in bemusement as Radames got up and followed her.
"I thought Gen said you and Brankovitch were just going for drinks," he said. "Why were you out so late?"
"Well," she said. "Not that it's any of your business, but he ended up taking me to dinner as well."
"Where at?" he asked, chewing on an ice cube.
"An Oyster Bar in the French Quarter."
"What?" he demanded. "You like oysters now? You told me you hated oysters!"
"I told you that ten years ago. It's not my fault you never asked me again."
"How were they?"
She shrugged, sitting down next to him and petting Radames.
"Fine, I suppose. Nothing mind-blowing."
He nodded, watching as she took a sip of her drink, absently touching the lock around her neck.
"How was dress shopping?" he asked.
"Tedious," she admitted.
"What does it look like?"
Her heart seized, as if the muscle itself were cramping.
"I honestly don't know. My mum called towards the end and I had to go outside."
He nodded, and they both drank.
"I never did find out what yours looked like," he said in a soft voice, not looking at her.
Her pulse fluttered and she turned to study his straight nose and full lips in profile.
"You didn't see it in the Prophet?"
He shook his head.
"I didn't want to know."
She glanced over at him. He still wasn't looking at her, but when he felt his eyes on him he looked up. His gaze swept over her face in appreciative arcs before finding her own. They shared a look so intense Leolin eventually had to look away.
"And now you do?" she asked, her voice just a fraction softer.
He studied her for a second before shrugging.
"I'm just curious."
She took another sip of her drink.
"Well it was white, obviously—"
"Obviously."
"Form-fitting. A lot of Spanish lace. Low back—"
"Of course."
"Long-sleeved. I don't know, we all agreed you would like it, even your mum."
There was silence.
"Yeah, I reckon I probably would have."
Leolin closed her eyes, imagining herself in the dress as she walked towards Draco on her father's arm. She'd forgotten quite what it looked like, but the memory of seeing Gen wear it today had re-branded it in her mind. She wondered if Gen knew Leolin and Draco were down here together, drinking. Part of Leolin hoped she did, though Leolin had to admit it wouldn't really serve her goals if Gen found out. It would only inflame Gen's petty but effective jealousy.
"How did you like New Orleans? "Draco asked, getting up to fill his drink. He noticed hers was empty as well, and wordlessly he made her another, too. His hands brushed hers again as she accepted the glass from him. However, this time he pretended not to notice.
"Thank you," she said, considering his question "I don't know how I feel about it. There's something about the city that make me—"
"—uneasy," Draco finished, eyes sparkling. "Me too."
Leolin bit her lip, trying to decide if she should tell him about Adrian and what the old man had told her.
"What is it?" he asked, scrutinizing her. "It looks like you've got something on your mind."
She shook her head, feeling silly.
"It's nothing," she said. "It's just—have you ever heard of Jean du Bones?"
"The necromancer?" he laughed. "Of course. He's an urban legend that Creole mothers tell their children to scare them."
"What do they say about him?" she asked.
"He was a bokor, you know, a witch doctor, and he used to poison witches and wizards and turn him into his zombie slaves. Then one day he accidentally poisoned himself, and he died and somehow found his way through the earth to the river Styx. That's where he met Charon. Charon's the one that ferries the souls across the river to the other side. Somehow Jean convinced Charon to teach him how to ferry the boat, and once he'd learned, he figured out how to ferry souls back."
"Bring people back from the dead, you mean."
"Yeah. Necromancy, essentially. Anyways, when Jean du Bones got back to this world, he supposedly started peddling his trade to souls he deemed worthy for one dark reason or another. According to the legend, those desperate enough can still find him in New Orleans, and if you know his price, he can ferry the dead back for you."
Leolin considered, trying to digest what she'd just heard. Should she tell Draco what she'd seen? Did it even prove anything?
"Do you believe any of it?" she asked.
"Do I believe in Necromancy?" he replied, smiling a little. "No. No one can truly come back from the dead."
She looked down, nodding.
"I know."
"Relax, Lefevre," he said, touching her bare knee. She hadn't been expecting it, and she tensed. She looked down at his hand then fearfully up into his eyes again. How she yearned to confide in him like she used to. "It's just a kid's story. It's not real."
"That's what people said about the Hallows," she whispered.
"Did something happen today?" he asked. "If it did, I need to know." he demanded.
"I—" Leolin began.
"Drake?" Gen's sleepy voice called from the top of the stairs. "Are you coming to bed anytime soon?"
He ignored Gen, his eyes hard as gems as he studied Leolin's seeming distress.
"Leolin," he said seriously, touching her chin now so she was forced to meet his eye. "Is there something you want to tell me? You have my full attention if there is."
"I—" she choked again. She should tell him everything. However, her fear of his rejection stopped her. She couldn't bear to see that hateful look on his face ever again. "No. You should go. Gen's waiting for you."
He let his hand drop, and he grit is teeth in irritation as she looked away from him. Why did she do that? She should have told him everything. She should have told him everything then kissed him senseless.
"Fine," he bit out at last. "Sleep tight, Lefevre. Don't let Jean du Bones bite."
A/N: Thoughts? Predictions? Comments? Concerns? I want 'em alllll…Also, I think everyone's favourite good boy might be coming back next chapter…. :)