Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Part 3/Chapter 8

Bellamy had been away little more than a week, but Pat had missed him. When he waited for her after work, leaning against her car, with a badly bruised face, she forgot her prudence, and that night, they became lovers. It was as Pat had always somehow known. There was a very strong sexuality within her nature, and she knew that she would never be happy again, if she had to live without sex. And yet, for the moment, she was deliriously happy, and didn't regret her decision. At the same time, she kept her heart under a very strict guard. She knew so little about him, and never expected a long term relationship. If he'd tell her about his past, about his roots, where he came from, then it would be different. But he always shielded such questions, or came up with vague answers that meant nothing.

A month after, they lay together in bed, and Bellamy caressed breasts, and told her how beautiful she was. Pat smiled and lay relaxed. He was sincere, and she knew it. But that day, she'd overheard laughter about 'Lankylegs' having a lover, and how it couldn't possibly last long.

Bellamy was ecstatically happy, unthinking, living and loving in the present. She instructed him to turn on his front, and began a gentle, loving massage. And she talked as she worked, saying that no matter when he left, it had been worth it. That even a temporary love affair was better than none ever, in her life.

With the force of a blinding revelation, Bellamy finally, finally, realised that he didn't want to ever leave this woman, who matched him so well. He turned to her, holding her very tight, and muttered, "I don't want it ever to end."

She stared at him in utter astonishment. Bellamy looked away from her, but there were tears beginning to trace down his face, and she reached forward, and touched, unbelieving. Pat may have guarded her heart, but Bellamy hadn't realised that his own needed a guard. And that night, as Pat lay asleep in his arms, he stayed awake a long time, and thought.

He had thought never to marry again. Julie had been made miserable because she became old and he didn't. But Pat was a very different woman. She had no friends, though a few friendly acquaintances, and he knew that she was jeered at sometimes because of her appearance. She had no expectations of permanence in this relationship, and he knew that she was amused when he claimed that she was beautiful. Maybe it would not be a wickedness to ask her to marry him, but she had to know what he was, everything that he was, so that she could refuse if she thought it too difficult.

The following morning, he began his campaign. "I've never said much about my past."

Pat looked at him curiously. "No, you haven't."

Totally honest, Bellamy said, "I want you to be my wife, but you probably won't want me when I tell you a bit more about myself."

Astonished she asked, "You're proposing?"

Bellamy shook his head. "Unless you tell me to go away earlier, I'll propose when you know everything you need to know."

Pat said cautiously, "I hadn't considered marriage."

Anxiously, Bellamy asked, "Is it out of the question?"

Pat smiled slightly. "It's not out of the question," and suddenly, just as anxious, "You're not mocking me, are you?"

Bellamy pulled her very tight, and breathed, "Never!"

He started by telling her that he'd been ill for years, often not knowing who he was. She gave him a hug, and said, "You're all right now, though?"

Bellamy nodded, "I'm all right now, and it's not going to happen again."

She smiled at him with confidence, "Well, then?"

"There's other things," Bellamy said, "I'll tell you tomorrow, but remember, if you want me gone, tell me."

The following day, he told her that magic existed, and that he was of the world of wizardry, technically Anirage. He had to demonstrate before she believed him, and then she told him not to tell her anything more for a while.

After a week, she took a deep breath, and asked for the next revelation. Bellamy was cowardly, and told her only that he was very rich, and had an estate in England, staff and all.

She laughed at him, "You think that might put me off?"

"I asked Alison when I was there, and she said that I could afford a helicopter or a little aeroplane, whichever you prefer. You could do your research in London library if you want, or we'll live here if you want, whatever you want."

Pat said, "You're putting off things, aren't you?"

Bellamy said, "Tomorrow. I'll tell you more tomorrow." He told her a little more about his estate, though, and she knew how very much he cared for his home. She thought that if anything came of this odd relationship, she would join him there. She had no ties herself, except for a few work colleagues, and her brother.

The following day, he told her that not only was he a wizard, but that he was the great wizard, could do things no-one else could do, and had some telepathy as well, though he very hastily said that he never normally used it. They were in bed, and she gently caressed his forehead, as he looked at her anxiously.

Patricia was wondering whether he was quite sane. He'd demonstrated that magic existed, but the conceited claim that he was the most powerful wizard in the world sounded like a delusion. Cautiously, she asked, "What can you do that no-one else can do?"

"No-one can break my spells, but I can break anyone else's spells, I can apparate anywhere in the world instead of just a few hundred miles," and he paused.

"What else?" she asked.

"I can work strong, directed magic without a wand, and nobody else can." And then hastily, rushing his fences, "Everyone in the wizarding world knows who I am, and almost all my life, people have been trying to kill me or take me prisoner."

She was frowning at him, and gently caressed a scar down his cheek. "You have a lot of scars."

Bellamy smiled slightly, "That was just when I fell off a horse, but other scars are from knife wounds and bullet wounds, and the one on my forehead is from a Death Curse."

She touched the zigzag scar. "A Death Curse?"

"It's a long story," he said evasively.

He had to tell her that he was very old, and he kept putting it off. He knew she had her reservations, and even doubted his sanity.

But after a few days, he found her examining his passport. "It says you're twenty-three, but sometimes you seem so much older."

Bellamy looked at the carpet. He was having a great deal of difficulty saying anything at all.

Pat persisted. "Are you older than twenty-three?"

Bellamy nodded. This was where he'd lose her, he knew it. "I've been married before," he started. "Each of my marriages was very happy."

"Each of your marriages?" queried Pat.

Bellamy looked down, and traced a pattern in the arm of the chair where he sat. "There was Ginny, but then she died. I was with her fifteen years. I had even less time with Luna, and she died, too." He took a deep breath. "I was very happy with Julie, too, for a long time. But Julie became miserable when she started to look middle-aged and I didn't. She left me, and married someone her own age, and was a lot happier afterward. She's dead now, too."

Pat knew now. He may have been a wizard, but there was nothing to stop a wizard being insane. But she asked, gently, "How old are you now?"

Bellamy wouldn't look at her. He was acting like a naughty child caught in mischief, and Pat repeated her question. "How old are you now?"

He muttered finally, "Old."

Pat stopped questioning him, and there was a desperate quality in his love-making that night. He was losing her, and he knew he was losing her. Neither of them said anything more about wizards, or long lives, or magic.

The weather was beginning to be warm now, spring in Australia. Keifer was concerned. Pat was looking troubled, though she said that Bellamy was still with her. Pat had a week's break from her work at the University. Keifer had broken up with Shelley, and had no new woman in his life. Pat thought that, at least, Bellamy's boast about having lots of money might be true, as he agreed to the idea of a holiday on the coast without the slightest hesitation. She also knew that his books were making good sales, and so were Keifer's, with a big order recently from a bulk booksellers in England.

Pat and Keifer sunbaked on the beach. Bellamy was alight with his own pleasure as he surfed, having temporarily put out of his mind that he might be going to lose the woman he loved and wanted.

"Where did he get his surfboard?" Keifer asked casually.

Pat answered, "He conjured it this morning. I was watching. He works magic in front of me quite a lot lately. I think he wants me to get used to it."

Keifer laughed, but then looked again at his sister. She looked perfectly serious. "He's a wizard," she said, "But I don't think he's altogether rational."

Keifer looked at his sister with a real concern. She smiled at him faintly. "I'm not losing my marbles, it's true."

"Were you supposed to tell me?" he asked cautiously.

Pat shook her head. "He says Wizardkind is a very small minority, and needs to keep a low profile."

Keifer trickled some sand through his finger. "Well, either you're bonkers, or he is!"

The surfboard was pushed vertically into the sand, and Bellamy lay down beside them. "I thought I'd better see if you wanted to go back inside yet. No point getting too sunburnt."

Keifer said casually, "Pat says you're a wizard."

Bellamy glanced at Pat. "That's right," he said. "I'm trying to persuade her to marry me, but I don't think she's going to agree." And he smiled at her, very tenderly. "We could always have a never-ending affair."

Pat laughed. "Anyway, how could we get married if you're as old as you say? Your documents would all have to be falsified."

"There are wizards in Melbourne. It might be better to have a wizard wedding than an ordinary wedding."

Keifer said, "Bloody Melbourne. They always want to outdo Sydney. They've even got wizards when we haven't!"

"A worse climate, though," said Bellamy. It was like he couldn't keep his hands off her, and he gently caressed up and down her arm.

"Do you know any wizards in Melbourne?" Keifer asked, still not actually believing.

"Probably not. It's a long time since I've been there. But the pub where they congregate is probably still there. Wizards are great ones for tradition."

"I'm not convinced," said Keifer. He turned on his back. "Conjure me an ice-cream, and we'll talk about it."

Bellamy handed him an apparent ice-cream. Keifer quickly sat up. "Where did that come from?" he demanded.

"I conjured it," said Bellamy, "But I wouldn't try and eat it if I were you, I've never been able to conjure food that tastes any good."

Hesitantly, Keifer took the ice-cream, which dribbled down his hand. Almost automatically, he licked it off, before making a face. Bellamy was amused, "I told you. Do you want me to vanish it?" Dazed, Keifer nodded, and the ice-cream vanished. Keifer lay down.

"So, all right, you've proven you're a wizard. Why does Pat think you might not be rational?"

Bellamy was beginning to think he had an ally. "Pat?" he said.

"You can't be as old as you say," she said flatly. "It's not possible."

Bellamy said slowly, "There's always been a very few witches and wizards who live a long time. I knew one who lived to be a hundred and sixty, another was over a hundred and thirty, though I never really knew her, and there's supposed to be a couple in Japan, and several in the Arab countries. There's two of my own children, too. Beth will be a hundred next year, and Helmer's a bit older, but they only look middle-aged."

Pat looked at her brother, hopelessly.

Bellamy said very quietly. "As far as I know, there's never been anyone quite like me. If you were to marry me, I may very likely see you grow old and die, but we'll have a lot of good years first."

There was a long silence. Keifer said, "What've you got to lose, Sis?"

And suddenly Pat was laughing, hilariously. "What've I got to lose?"

Bellamy made a very quick trip home, and picked up several books about magic, and about his world, so that Pat could become a little more familiar with it than she was at present. He picked up a set of dress robes, too, planning to show them to Pat, although one glance had her deciding that she wanted him in ordinary clothes for the wedding. There was no-one there at the time, possibly because it was the middle of the night in England, and he left no indication that he'd been. He didn't want more demands for spell-breaking until he was ready.

Just a week later, a little pub in Melbourne was crammed with Australian witches and wizards, as Henry Bellamy married Patricia Howard. Keifer grinned all over his face. He loved his sister, and had always thought it such a tragedy that men never appreciated her. But whatever other problems there might be to come, it was perfectly obvious to him that Bellamy loved her very much. It had become clear, too, that Bellamy was as famous as he'd said. In the Merlin Bar, the walls were decorated with large posters of famous wizards. One was of Bellamy, though it was labelled Harry Potter.

Bellamy sent some wedding photos home, and to the relief of Archie and Alison, supplied an address for correspondence. But Pat insisted on working until November, the end of the academic year. She had a strong sense of duty.

They gave her a sendoff from work, an evening function, to which partners were invited. There was a young woman, secretary to Professor Gievrot, who made a pretend helpful comment to Pat, that had her stiffen in annoyance. But Bellamy noticed, and the young woman suddenly found she could no longer eat or drink without spilling things. Pat glanced at Bellamy, and then said kindly to Jacqueline, "Don't worry, my dear. Maybe when you're a bit older, you'll be able to handle a few wines with more dignity." Jacqueline left early, and Pat herself, gave a sigh of relief when it was over. There were hardly any of those there who had the remotest feeling for her.

Pat was fairly tough, and had endured minor nastinesses all her life, but she was beginning to feel she'd found a wonderful protector. Bellamy told her that she didn't need to socialise at all, ever, if she didn't want to. "Unusual people are often not popular," he said one day. "Beth was actually stoned by the other children when she started school. We educated her ourselves then, all through her primary school years. Her mother was a wonderful lady, but people thought she was strange, always, and she, too, had hardly any friends."

Pat was blushing. "It makes me feel so guilty, as if I'm not good enough."

Bellamy nodded. "Beth told me she felt like that, too, a deep guilt that even now, she's not been able to throw off."

"What about you?" Pat asked. "You're unusual."

Bellamy nodded. "Well, I've been shot at, knifed, people have tried to take me prisoner, and I've had to dodge Death Curses." And he smiled. "I am so lucky. It might have been a bit hazardous at times, but I've always had friends, and often those friends have gone to a lot of trouble to help and protect me."

As Pat wanted, they embarked on a cruise ship for their trip to England. She wanted a time of leisure, and a time, too, when she and her new husband would get to know each other better. He had a lot of history, and Pat had a fair bit to share, too. Bellamy was being very conscientious these days, and advised his home that they'd be returning on the ship, Arabella, and gave the date of expected arrival, March twenty-fifth.

Pat was amused when she saw how he reacted to the life of leisure. Within a week, he seemed to know a lot of the passengers, and even more of the crew. He was often to be found in the gymnasium, or tirelessly lapping the pool. There were three spa-rooms for the use of passengers, and it seemed to her that it was one of the few times he was happy to stay still, sitting in the spa, soothed by hot water. She came to realise that he was not really suited to this type of holiday. In his vigorous health and overflowing energy, he was always looking for things to do, while she was content to read or sunbake. She soon just started sending him off, knowing that he'd be happy helping the Games Coodinator, or walking slowly beside a fierce old lady with whom he'd made friends, or even rearranging the books in the library.

When he coaxed her up one morning to see the sunrise, he gave a cheery good morning to Brad, who mopped the passage way just outside their first class cabin, and mentioned to Pat that he used to do that sort of job on the Belle Chartreusie, until they realised how many languages he spoke. She started questioning him about that other ship he'd been on, the Costa Rivera, and he admitted that his memories for the last twenty-five years were patchy, and there were years that had passed of which he seemed to have no memory at all.

"I wasn't allowed off the Crew Deck on the Costa Rivera, unless there was someone with me, because they thought I was retarded, and might upset the passengers." She pulled him closer to her then. She hadn't quite realised how long he'd been confused. "It won't happen again," he assured her, looking at her creased brow. "It was just that it was a bit hard for a while, because I didn't want to be alone, and everyone I knew, died."

"Everyone you knew, died," said Patricia, quietly.

"It took a long time, but I can accept it now, and make the most of what is, rather than fretting about what is not."

"There was a book I read once when I was a child," said Pat, musing. "I thought it was about horses, but Mum said it was about life and death."

"It's in the ship's library, if it's the one I'm thinking about," said Bellamy, and once the vivid colours of the sunrise faded from the sky, he showed it to her.

"That's it," she said, looking at the picture on the cover, and then she looked questioningly at him. "You wrote it?" Bellamy nodded, and half an hour later, she was wondering why on earth she'd ever married him, as he still spoke about some dammed horse called Sheba!

Archie knew that Bellamy never really wanted to be bothered about events at home when he was away, but Alison sent him a note to say that the books were all sent to the grandchildren, that he'd been fined for blatantly appearing as a wizard in a medj area, and that royalties from his recent books were now flowing into his main account. He showed Pat the note, and she had him put on his dress robes, and show her what he'd been fined for. Somehow, it was as if she'd never quite believed him before, but now he slipped his hand inside his robes, and produced a fake wand, and she began to comprehend that it really was a different world she was entering.

"What about a peaked hat?" she asked, "Aren't wizards supposed to wear a peaked hat?"

"It's traditional," said Bellamy, "and a lot do, but personally I think they're dreadful things."

Pat was frowning at him thoughtfully, and finally asked him, "What do witches wear?"

"Similar, but a bit different styling, I think," he said, rather vaguely.

Skinny, gawky, and tall, Pat had never found clothing to make her look attractive, but the flow and grace of Bellamy's robes might make her look, at least, impressive. "Can I try them on?" And Bellamy watched with amusement as she put on his robes. They were short for her, and hung badly across her narrow shoulders. But Pat frowned thoughtfully at her reflection, before turning to him with a smile, "When can I get some?"

"I can apparate with you to Diagon Alley," he offered, "And you can be fitted for some right now."

"Right now?" she queried.

"Well, I'd have to work out the time difference," he demurred. Bellamy had been caught enough times to remember that time differences were important. He demonstrated apparation for her, silently vanishing from one side of the room, and instantly appearing again on the other side. But Pat felt panicky at the thought, and said that she couldn't possibly. "I suppose we could take measurements, and I could get you some," he suggested instead. "I don't think they take long to be made up."

Pat smiled at him. "We can at least wear them for the Fancy Dress Ball."

Half an hour later, Bellamy, wearing informal medj clothing again, and with hair pulled back into a pony tail as he usually wore it, apparated into Diagon Alley. It had been so long since he'd appeared in public that he was not immediately recognised. The clothing emporium was where it had always been, but was now Claudette's Clothing Emporium. The redheaded witch who owned it knew him though. "Grandfather Harry!"

"Hello, Claudette," he greeted her. Claudette was old enough that he knew her reasonably well.

Bellamy had detailed measurements, and instructions as to colour, so that he couldn't go too far wrong, and Claudette promised they'd be ready in an hour.

"What do witches wear on their heads with those sort of robes?" he asked her.

"Either a soft hat, usually in matching fabric, or, if they can afford it, a tiara."

"A tiara," Bellamy said. "I think she'd like that."

"Are you really married again?" Claudette asked. The rumour had gone around the family, although no announcement had been made.

"Her name's Pat Howard," Bellamy smiled. "She's a wonderful lady, with a brilliant mind, but she frets because she says she's too tall."

Claudette frowned at him, and then said decisively, "Don't buy a tiara yet. Wait until you come back, and I'll help you."

Bellamy smiled at her. "Thank you." There were so many stories about the great wizard. One was about his appalling taste.

People were beginning to stare and point, as Bellamy went to the wizard bank, Gringotts, to withdraw some gold. The goblin frowned at him. "Alison Kristos does your business, I've never met you."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, "You know who I am, I'm sure." But the goblin made him put his hand in a magical device before he would acknowledge that he was Henry Bellamy, formerly known as Harry Potter. When he left the bank, Bellamy carried a large amount of gold in an instantly conjured money bag.

There was time to spare, and he went to a place he'd liked since he was a child, and was pleased to see that it was still called Fortescues, and still had his favourite ice-creams. Out of habit, he sat with his back to the wall, where no-one could get him from behind, and waited to see who would be first to approach. Aurors Dieter, Alexander and Ryde appeared close. Bellamy nodded, and Alexander and Ryde stationed themselves to act as bodyguards, while Dieter joined him, and made casual, and undemanding conversation.

There was beginning to be a circle surrounding them, and after a while, a young woman with a baby hesitantly approached. "Grandfather Harry? This is my baby, Nicole."

Bellamy smiled at her, and said tenderly, "Can I see?" She put the tiny baby in his arms, and he caressed the soft cheek. "She's beautiful," he said in a tone of wonder. And the baby looked back at him, and reached up to touch his glasses, as babies had always done.

"Congratulations on your marriage, Grandfather," said the young woman, timidly.

"Thank you, Misty," said Bellamy, leaving Misty wondering how he knew her name, when she was pretty sure she'd never met him. But Bellamy had been introduced to Misty, when she, too, had been a baby, and had seen her a few times when she was very small, too.

There were more then, timid approaches from young members of his family, who greeted him, and proudly showed off their babies. Dieter watched with amusement. Bellamy had been away so long, but he nearly always knew who they were, though he couldn't have met them except as small babies. At last, Bellamy glanced at his watch, and stood. Dieter quickly looked away, hardly believing that he still wore the sensor device.

Bellamy grinned at him. "It's just a watch now," and added, though quite casually and without resentment, "Bloody spies."

Claudette had the robes ready, and helped him choose a tiara and other matching jewellery. Dieter was still close, and drew in his breath at the expense, but Bellamy didn't blink. He'd spent more on Julie as a matter of routine. So many expensive items, many now owned by Adrian's wife, Thea, and many others treasured by the family of her second husband, Mervyn. Alison had quite recently assured him that he still had plenty of money.

Pat had been supposed to wait in the cabin for his return, so that he could apparate to her, seeing that the ship would no longer be in the same place when he returned. But he hadn't been clear enough, and when he appeared at her side, laden with his purchases, Beatrice, who was in the next deck chair on the open deck, looked at him, snorted, and reminded him that he could be fined for that sort of behaviour. He smiled at her. "Pat's fault," he said. "She was supposed to wait in the cabin, so that I didn't appear in public."

Pat looked at Beatrice, surprised. "You're a witch?"

"I was," said the fierce old lady. "I lost a lot of my magic when I grew old, like most witches and wizards. Except for him, of course, he's different."

Pat looked back at her husband. She was no longer doubting anything that he said, but it was incredible that every witch or wizard might know his name. "What did you buy?"

There was luckily no-one else close, and Beatrice was looking very interested, too, so he pulled out the robes. Pat caressed the fabric, of a quality she'd never before worn, and Beatrice, too, admired it. He placed the tiara on the head of his wife, and tenderly kissed her on her lips.

Beatrice looked away, remembering a conversation in a school dormitory when she'd been about fifteen. She'd thought it a bit foolish, herself, but one of the girls had said that she planned to seduce the famous and attractive wizard, that she wanted him to be her first lover. It had been a bit of a fashion at the time, as she remembered. It had been rumoured that Tessa Finch had managed it, before being killed with a Death Curse, just a few days later. The girls stopped talking about it for a while after that.

And now he'd married a muggle, and was obviously deep in love with her. She wondered how many knew yet, that the most powerful wizard of them all, had married a muggle!

Pat's robes were in a deep royal blue, that looked good next to Bellamy's. She was very pleased with them. For the first time in her life, she wore clothes that suited her, and they hadn't even been properly fitted. Bellamy smiled at her pleasure, and a few days later, they both presented themselves to Beatrice, all dressed up, even with fake wands conjured for the occasion, before going to the Fancy Dress Ball. Beatrice sniffed begrudgingly, but told Pat she looked nice, and said to Bellamy that at least he wouldn't be fined this time, as it was supposed to be fancy dress.

Pat spent a lot of time talking to Beatrice from then on. The old lady was a lot better than Bellamy himself, at telling stories about his past. Sometimes Pat would smile in recognition, such as when Beatrice told her that one of the stories was that he adored ice-creams, and was perfectly apt to persuade his big, tough, bodyguards to sit out in public with him, and eat ice-creams like children. Or that he had a reputation for seducing his female bodyguards, though Bellamy denied that indignantly when it was put to him. "Hardly any," he said grumpily, "Hardly any!"

Beatrice told Pat about his younger days, too - an old, old story of a powerful wizard defeated when Harry was just seventeen, and his years afterward, when he was never safe from attempts at assassination.

Pat was fascinated, and couldn't get enough of it. After the first weeks, Beatrice's gossip extended to old scandals - particularly illegitimate children, and to misbehaviour, such as a fistfight at a party, and another in the corridor of the Ministry. She even warned her about a certain piece of music that she shouldn't play.

"But it's my favourite!" said Pat. "I love that music, and I like it loud!"

"Fine!" said Beatrice, "If you're happy to have him being sick on the carpet!"

Pat stared at her in blank astonishment, until Beatrice explained. "He was tortured to the sound of that bit of music, and the conditioning stuck." And she referred to a kidnapping, and a subsequent trial because Bellamy killed his kidnappers.

Pat grew more quiet, and sometimes doubted her ability to be happy with a man with such a history, or to keep him happy. She didn't stop asking for stories, but Beatrice had noticed her misgivings, and from then on, her stories were of smaller things, such as the way he'd find any excuse to avoid listening to speeches, and how his wife, Julie, used to boss him about, and he was apparently very happy to allow her to do so.

The cruise was a slow one, with many stops, and some of those stops for several days. In Tahiti, Pat met two of Bellamy's family for the first time, his daughter, Beth, and her daughter, Kate, who now lived with her mother. They were both widowed now. Even at eighty, Kate retained remnants of a great beauty, and the charm and confidence that went with it was still very much evident. And yet Beth looked younger. It was a little difficult for Pat to quite believe.

Beth wanted a chance to talk to Pat privately. She knew how many doubts the young woman still felt, even though she was trying hard to understand and accept the fact of a hitherto unsuspected world. Bellamy was young and vigorous, while Beth's ample body overflowed the chair, and her hair was grey. But when Pat looked at her eyes, she felt the similarity between them. There was something of the same look of wisdom in the eyes.

When she said something like that to Beth though, Beth laughed. "He might be wise in some ways, but he's a fool in others. How long did he take for him to realise he was in love, and wanted to marry you?"

Pat looked questioningly at her, and Beth answered the unspoken question. "He came to see me. It was only a short time after the book launch. I knew he was in love, then. He kept talking about Keifer, and just happening to mention there was a sister called Pat."

Pat smiled. "It was quite a long time after that."

Beth said, "Trust him to love you as long as he lives. He's always been good at loving, and he's never really been happy when he's without a wife to love." Pat gave her a questioning gaze, and Beth answered, "Yes, even if you're ninety, and look it, and he could still pass for twenty-four." And Beth touched her hand. "He loves you, and will love you always."

Pat smiled, feeling comforted and reassured.

Beth cautioned, "There's bound to be difficult times, of course. Harry is unique, and when in the wizarding world, lives a dangerous, and a very public life."

Pat asked hesitantly, "Will he really just go on and on looking the same?"

Beth answered simply, "No-one knows. There's never been anyone like him."

Meantime, Kate was lecturing her grandfather on the necessity of returning to do the spell-breaking that was an essential service for wizardry. Bellamy was on the defensive. "Your mother said I should have time off, that I might get sick again if I went back too soon." Kate still looked at him accusingly, and Bellamy said, "And anyway, I'm on my way back!"

When they rejoined the others, Bellamy was looking harassed, and it had to be explained to Pat that he was expected to do that job that no-one else could do. She wanted further details, and learned a lot about wizard duelling, and its inevitable results, though it wasn't all duelling, of course.

Beth and Kate had to leave then, taking a boat to the quiet island that was now the home of them both. Beth said to Bellamy, just before they left, "If I need to, can we come and live with you?"

"Of course, I'd love to have you there, but you've always said that Roonga Tuku is your home."

Beth said sadly, "I've been very happy there for so long. But the people are turning against me, and it's possible I may need to leave."

Bellamy hugged her very tight. "They've been so privileged to have you. And if you do leave, my home has always been your home, and Kate's too, though I have not the slightest doubt that Kate would be welcome anywhere she chooses to make her home."

Beth smiled. "It's been a consolation having a daughter beautiful and charming, when I'm so much not."

Bellamy squeezed her hand. "The world's a better place for having you in it." And Beth, who could give so much comfort, felt herself comforted.

There was another visit as the ship called in to an American port. And this time, a man of around seventy, not big, and wearing glasses, but radiating power and authority, met them, and was introduced as Adrian, Bellamy's son. Thea was there too, and there was a chance for Thea to talk to Patricia, privately. Thea was not a witch, and had a fellow feeling for Pat. It hadn't always been easy, but it had been rewarding. "My daughter didn't have any magic," said Thea, casually. "Most children of medj/wizard pairs are wizards or witches, though."

It was something that Pat had been thinking of a lot lately, though she'd not yet discussed it with Bellamy, and was still protected against pregnancy. It was too soon. For so many years, she had refused to even think about it, convinced that it would be a part of life closed to her. But now it was a possibility.

Meantime, Adrian was talking to Bellamy, out of earshot, but not far away. Bellamy had thanked him, rather embarrassed, for helping look after him when he'd been ill.

"Don't mention it," said Adrian, going more red than his father. He reached for something to quickly distract them both, and launched into a description of a showjumping competition he'd been to with Thea. "The commentator said that the horse was of the 'Line of Sheba,' becoming well known in showjumping circles. And when we went over to speak to him, it really did look like one of your horses - tall, with a slash of white on its rump."

Bellamy was very interested. "I know Beau had all sorts of plans for a more directed breeding plan, but there were no mares left, so I thought it was all over."

"Did you actually ask?"

"Beau's dead, but no, I didn't ask Archie, or Paul, and Paul did bring me over a horse, so maybe he's still got a mare or two over at his place."

Adrian continued, "Well, from what this one said, there's a few available every year, but they won't sell them to just anyone. And he was obviously very fond of his own, who, he said, regularly frees himself from his paddock, and goes and visits with the horses on the next door property."

Bellamy laughed. "Sounds like the little pinto may have left his genes, then, too."

Adrian asked, "Have you told Pat about your horses?"

Bellamy smiled ruefully. "She told me that if I mention Sheba one more time, she'll borrow my wand, and turn me into a toad!"

Several weeks later, the ship was travelling northward, some miles off the coast of Portugal. Pat joined Bellamy at the railings, where he was watching as the coastline showed, sometimes nearer, sometimes further, in the distance. Pat thought that he looked odd, as if maybe he was trying to remember something. She didn't ask him about it. She knew there was a lot he didn't remember, and he'd said once, with a reddened face, that he'd spent a lot of years being thoroughly pathetic. But then he'd smiled, and said there'd been so many people very kind to him, too. That it just showed that most people had a lot of goodness in them.

But that night at dinner, one of the passengers was telling a story. "One of the crew told me," Violet Blanche was saying. "It was just around here, a different ship, but only a few years ago - a young man, a boy really, jumped overboard and swam to shore."

Bellamy had looked up, and Pat noticed his expression, or rather his lack of expression. He still looked coolly imperturbable as the discussion went on about whether it was likely that someone could make it ashore from this far out. But Mrs. Blanche had more information. "He was simple apparently, and yet could speak several languages."

"An Idiot Savant, then?" suggested one.

Mrs. Blanche shrugged, and continued her story with relish. "Anyway, it was known he didn't drown, because his lover was put ashore, and found him."

"His lover?" queried her husband.

And Mrs. Blanche said with an obvious enjoyment. "His lover! A man and a fellow crew member, not a woman!"

There was speculation about homosexuality among ship's crew, until finally one of the men said that surely it was nobody's business but their own. "But to be forced to jump overboard, poor boy!" said an elderly woman. "Maybe he didn't want to have a lover."

Bellamy had taken no part in the conversation, and only commented that the mushrooms were particularly good, and must be fresh. Pat decided she would never, ever ask.

A memory came back to Bellamy later that night. Lopez had been teaching him table tennis, and he'd become upset because there'd been a row between Lopez and Raphy, whom he'd been playing. Bruno had taken him away, squeezing him, and reassuring him that it was all right. They'd been so good to him, and that incident had been months after the sex had stopped. And he grinned, as he suddenly realised why Raphy had become angry. Raphy had been talking about the 'half-wit,' and Lopez had said jeeringly that maybe if they'd taken the half-wit's glasses away, he wouldn't have been thrashed!

He guessed he should tell Pat about it all one day, but after all, he had a long history, and couldn't tell her everything.

***chapter end***