14: A kiss

It was eleven o'clock in the late morning. Viola had been up for three hours. She had slept in the room in which she had already spent another night, years before. The room was exactly as it had been then; empty but for a single bed. It had reminded her very much of that New Year's Eve when she had found refuge, an open ear, and good advice in this house. Back then, she had even thought that Reg had been interested in her on another level. Had that been the childish imaginings of a silly girl?

Now, she was wondering at the emptiness of this room. It was three and a half years since last she'd visited this house. One would think that whatever furnishings and decorations Reg had planned would be finished by now. Yet this room was empty. No paint on the walls, no curtains on the windows, only a makeshift bed that Reg had probably transfigured for her visit and never returned to its previous form. What was this room for?

Well, Viola had other things to occupy her mind, once she stopped to distract herself from them. She felt forlorn. What was she really doing here? Her 'host' had made it quite clear that there was more hostility than hospitality to be expected from him. And yet, following her gut feeling, she knew she would not be able to think clearly about what Anders' proposal meant to her before she had settled the matter with Reg.

Viola wrapped her robes tightly around her and tip-toed down the stairs into the kitchen, where she had already made some coffee when she'd first awoken. For a while afterwards, she had sat in the winter garden-like drawing room and looked out thoughtfully over the wild meadows behind Reg's house.

In two months she would turn twenty. Agnetha had married with 17. Still, Viola did not feel ready for it. In the past years, she had imagined herself concentrating on her potioneering and her music for a few more years before even thinking about a husband and family. Yes, she enjoyed Anders' company and had been curious enough about the whole matter of love and relationships to flirt with him a bit, even allow him to kiss her. Yet she had never fully committed to it. She had thought Anders would lose interest sooner or later.

And now that! She had been flattered and overwhelmed at first, had asked him to give her time. Anders was sweet and kind and attentive. Yet the more Viola thought about it, the more the certainty grew in her that it would be wrong. However, when she tried to voice any reasons, she was unable to put them into words. Her instincts said no.

And they had driven her to come here. Her pretext was the one she had given to Reg, but underneath, there was something else. Another instinctive reaction she was aware of but hardly dared to admit to herself. Because those were surely the confused feelings of a young woman that she would only be taunted for if she were to admit to them openly. Feelings she had had for years and had been rejected before. Viola thought of yesterday's cutting remarks and flinched inwardly.

The eight o' clock coffee had gone cold, for Viola had neglected to put a warming spell on it. Just as well – this way she had something to occupy her hands with; a small means of distraction.

Her night had been restless. She had been tossing and turning, going to sleep for an hour at a time and then waking up again to the anxious musings of her night time mind. Now, she felt driven to go upstairs. The night shift went until six in the morning, so Viola knew Reg had had only a few hours of sleep so far, but she could not wait any longer; she could not bear the suspense. She needed to sort this out. What and how exactly she would not have been able to say, yet there was a tension inside of her she could not take any longer.

With the fear of the uncertain written upon her features, Viola slowly, noiselessly, climbed the stairs. The fresh cup of coffee felt heavy in her hand, and she had a feeling as if she might drop it out of nervousness any moment.

Viola took hold of the door handle of Reg's room, silently turning it and pushing the door open. She had never been in there before. Three windows in the round opposite wall (both gables of the house formed a semi-circle, thus also the shape of the library below) let in the late morning sun. The light first met Reg's desk and a shelf that partly hid the desk from view before it streamed through a narrow corridor and eventually arrived at the door, in which Viola still lingered.

Her heart pounded strongly in her chest, pumping heat up into her neck and face. She was intruding. She had no right to be here.

And yet, she could not make herself turn around and leave.

Hesitantly, one step after the other, the young witch tiptoed forward, her gaze directed to the left, where more of the bed came into view with every inch she crept forward. It was hidden behind a corner and could therefore not be directly seen from the entrance.

The owner of the house lay on his back, his upper body bathed in sunlight, his face turned to the wall. Viola stood rooted to the spot and watched him. Reg's light brown hair lay in tousled waves on the pillow; his chest gently rose and fell. There was a scar on his right shoulder; a testament to the dangers of his professional occupation. He looked proud and peaceful.

Viola's sadness intensified at this sight. She would have denied it had someone else described it in such words, but looking at this scene was like seeing what she had always craved and still being unable to attain it. She felt small and tired in this moment. So tired.

Her blood pulsed violently as she slowly, silently, set the cup down on the floor and tiptoed closer to the bed. She was doing something forbidden. She was the little girl sneaking into the living room to steal a piece of chocolate from the sweets cupboard even though she knew her mother would disapprove.

Just don't let him wake up. Let him not send her away. Just a bit of comfort; that was all she needed.

The mattress sank in treacherously when she lowered her knee onto it, and Viola flinched. Her eyes were fixed on Reg's profile, always anxious that he might stir. Yet he showed no sign of waking up.

Oh-so carefully, Viola lowered her body further and further, until her hair brushed gently against Reg's outstretched arm. It was as if he invited her. Finally, her head sank down onto his shoulder. This was the moment. Surely he would wake up from feeling her weight. Viola's whole body was tense.

Nothing. Only the gentle rise and fall of Reg's breathing. Viola barely allowed herself any air of her own out of fear that her cool breath tickling his skin might give her away.

After a minute of no reaction, she allowed herself to relax against Reg's body. His shoulder was not the most comfortable cushion, and her left arm was trapped beneath her, but the warmth of his skin soothed the ache inside her. Viola closed her eyes.

She could hear is heartbeat. His skin carried the scent of hard work. It was a nice smell; a masculine one.

Something inside her unravelled. A lonely tear collected in the corner of her eye and slowly crept over Viola's cheek. She could feel the cool trail on her skin.

A pair of doves landed on the windowsill outside and cooed. Their heads moving jerkily, they almost seemed to be looking into the room, watching the scene inside.

Suddenly Viola felt movement under her. Before she could react with more than a flood of panic spreading through her body, she grew aware of Reg's arm drawing her closer against him. His shoulder pushed her face against his neck. His left arm spread his thin blanket over her. For a moment, Viola had known peace, now her heart raced at full speed. What was happening?! Why…?

She felt Reg's stubbly cheek rub against her forehead, his left hand now holding her arm as if to keep her in place.

Surely he was awake, wasn't he? You didn't move like that in your sleep. Her breath hitched.

After a few moments, she plucked up the courage to use her voice. A part of her mind still tried to convince her that Reg couldn't possibly be awake and that speaking would mean to tickle the sleeping lion, but her rational side won over. Just.

'Reg?'

A soft caress of her cheek answered her un-worded question. Viola's brain was slow to process it. He was awake. And he was not livid about her intrusion.

She nuzzled against his scratchy cheek again and again to make herself realise that this was indeed happening. Eventually, she raised herself on her elbows and looked at Reg with wide, questioning eyes.

There was a flicker in the man's face, a brief struggle not to avert her inquisitive gaze. It was a confession. Had Viola not noticed it, she might have mistaken the steadiness with which he met her eyes eventually for an unawareness of anything being amiss, and it would have confused her, unbalanced her. This was the reassurance Viola needed to stop the vertigo in her mind. This was real. This was deliberate.

They were locked in that contemplation of each other. Reg's fingertips began a slow dance over Viola's face. They brushed gently over her forehead and her temples, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. They caressed her cheek and brushed over her lips.

Viola closed her eyes. Oh how she felt that thumping in her chest! Neither her body nor her mind were quite ready to accept the attention they suddenly received. From Reg.

Concertedly, Reg's thumbs moved over Viola's brows. It was a strangely relaxing sensation. The second tour over her temples and cheeks was made with the barest tips of Reg's fingernails that traced the path further down the sides of Viola's neck. Her skin prickled. A gentle smile unconsciously formed on her lips.

Reg's fingers moved back upwards behind Viola's ears. She hadn't known that her skin was so sensitive in that spot. Suddenly, she felt something soft fleetingly brush against her lips again. Her heart jumped. Her eyes fluttered open to the sight of Reg's face hovering inches from her own.

She stared at him, lost for words or even coherent thoughts. Her world was upside down. Viola's lips prickled.

Reg's eyes issued an invitation.

Viola looked at his mouth. His lips were dry, and his circle beard still looked carefully trimmed despite the first smatterings of stubbles on his cheeks. Something warm pooled in her stomach where before there had only been confusion.

Reg. A man. Not a boy but an experienced man, she thought incoherently in a failed effort of her brain to put into words what she felt. She grew aware of his scent again; even noticed the lines those extra years had drawn around his eyes and his mouth. Viola found them unutterably appealing.

Shutting of her stuttering mind, Viola accepted the invitation. She leaned forward and brushed her lips tentatively against his. The touch was warm and gentle.

Reg's hand caressed hers. Viola looked into his eyes, wanting to read his thoughts, to catch every flicker of emotion in his face, any sign of hesitation. She opened her hand, and Reg's slid inside.

Viola leaned forward again. A second brushing of one pair of lips against the other. She could feel his breath. A giddy part of her mind noted with relief that it smelled okay. No morning breath. Though there was the faint trace of… was that aniseed? Clever, the potioneer in her remarked.

Viola searched Reg's face again. For a sign; an explanation. She was afraid. Afraid of what would happen after. If she trusted him now, trusted his actions while his voice remained silent, if she let go of her inhibitions, her carefully trained reserve, what would happen in five minutes? What would happen when they'd left this room; when they'd stepped out of this alternate reality they seemed to be in? Would he still hold her hand? Would she still be allowed to kiss his lips?

Reg seemed to sense her doubts. He sat up; his arms reached out to her and pulled her against him, so that her chin rested on his shoulder and his warmth seeped through her clothes.

'Forklar dig til mig,' she murmured against his skin.

He started to sway her gently in his arms. There was unrest in him. He rubbed his cheek against the side of her head and nudged it with his nose to prompt Viola to turn her face towards him.

When she did so, she found Reg's eyes closed. 'Jeg skal,' he murmured against her lips and captured them with more fervour than Viola's gentle first test runs had possessed. His kiss was soft and demanding at once, as if Reg held back just enough to let her know that she could back out any time, even though his hands rested possessively on her lower back and pulled her close.

Viola did not know how long they clung to each other like that; only that she did not want it to stop. Reg slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and Viola onto his lap without breaking off the kiss. His hands strayed here and there – over her arms, to her hips – and in a corner of her mind Viola waited for the moment when he would grow bolder, uncertain if she was ready for it, but it never came.

Eventually, they sat in silence, she snuggling against the side of his head, he gaining his breath back. Reg fished the coffee from the floor and drank a few sips.

They salvaged these moments of togetherness, but with every minute the life outside crept closer again.

Quietly they'd gone down and prepared a simple cold lunch. They'd almost wordlessly taken it outside, bringing the wicker chairs with them from the drawing room.

Viola waited for Reg to make the first move, to explain what was happening between them. When he had eaten in silence for ten minutes, she decided it was time to give him a nudge. 'What's happened last year that made you turn away from me?' And what happened this morning that changed your mind again?

The dragon keeper set his cup back onto his saucer and leaned back into the wicker chair, an expression of sober contemplation on his face. He took his time, gazing into the distance, but Viola knew he would answer eventually.

When he eventually commenced to speak, she could sense that it was not easy for him. 'I have escaped someone's attention many years ago by feigning my death,' he started his explanation. His voice was calm, measured, and he did not look at Viola. Between each sentence he paused for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. 'I hid under false name with Åge's protection and kept my head down. For a long time I had good reasons to believe that I was safe, that the danger has passed, but in recent years there were signs that I'd been mistaken. A year ago, I received word that the person was out and about and killing again' – at the word 'killing', Viola involuntarily felt her fingers clutch her own cup more tightly – 'and I decided it was too dangerous for you to associate yourself with me. The person I flew from is vindictive; if they ever hear about me, they'll not only hunt me down but also those close to me.'

Viola grew pale. Subconsciously, she wrapped her robes tighter around her body. So that was the reason behind all of Reg's secrecy. She still felt he could have handled her in a politer manner, but… it made sense now.

'And this threat is gone, now?' she inquired reluctantly, dreading the answer.

Reg turned his face minutely and gave her a sidelong glance that was answer enough. A rueful, joyless smirk. He lowered his gaze. His voice was subdued as he spoke. 'Last night merely showed me that the two of us already are too close, no matter what I do. I am a decent occlumens, but the D-,' he broke off, pressed his lips together for a moment, and continued, ' this person would certainly direct all their attention to prying all the information they could glean from my mind to get to know in what way I'd worked against them, and sooner or later they would succeed.' Reg placed his elbow on the armrest of his chair and covered his mouth with his fingers, his face turned away from Viola. 'Emotionally laden pictures are always the easiest to catch in a mind,' he uttered.

Had Viola ever dreamed up a scenario of Reg admitting to having feelings for her, she surely would never have managed to imagine a moment like this. The sky drew dark; rain clouds gathered, and the wind grew stronger while they sat in silence.

'How likely is it that this person finds you?' Viola dared to ask.

Reg lifted his eyebrows and shook his head in a gesture of helplessness. 'I could not possibly say. I feel quite safe. To my knowledge they are unaware of my prolonged existence and rather preoccupied with other matters. Still, there is no telling what the future might bring. A single unfortunate coincidence…'

Viola nodded in silent understanding. The dark clouds circled around them. In the distance, over the moor, the first streaks of lightening flashed up. Over their meadow, however, the sky was still lighter. 'What you're saying, though,' Viola gathered her thoughts to make sense of what she'd been told, 'is that there is little we can do. We can only wait and see and keep on living our lives in the meantime.'

Reg turned around and scrutinised her with a reserved, assessing gaze. 'Quite so.'

End of Part II

Notes concerning chapter 14:

You may wonder why Viola doesn't make the connection to the events in Britain. Viola is not yet 20 years old. World politics are not that important for her yet, and media is not as omnipresent in the magical world as it is in ours. She knows something about the DE, but it's too distant for her.

50 points to the person who knows from which dark character (not HP) I've lent Reg's last words. :)

Forklar dig til mig – Explain yourself to me

Jeg skal – I will

This is the end of the second part. We will now return to the present (two years after Voldemort's downfall) and the focus will shift from Viola to the main plot.