Tpov

I winced as the door shut and my body went rigid.

A hand grabbed my face, dark eyes glittering with amusement as they scanned my expression.

"Now now Tara darling, why do you look so frightened?" William asked softly, his tone so gentle, it could have been mistaken for comforting to someone who didn't know him. But I did. "What on earth could you possibly be afraid of?" he asked lifting my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You don't expect we're going to have any trouble today, do you?"

He smiled and it was cruel. I felt my heart slam against my chest as I desperately tried to calm myself. To clear my mind.

His gaze felt as if it was drilling into my brain, sifting through my thoughts, attempt to pry out what I'd wanted to bury.

Panic gripped me as I tried to get away, but his grip locked around my jaw, holding me in place as he raised his wand in the inches that separated us, tilting it towards me. Right between my eyes.

"Pity." He said quietly, stepping forward. My back hit the door, and he pressed an arm against my neck as his eyes narrowed. A swell of dread washed over my as my heart slammed itself against my chest, as if it was trying to escape. "Usually you don't put up this much of a fight. You know it only makes it worse for yourself."

His smile grew, cold and sadistic, as he pressed the tip of his wand against my skin.

I winced, struggling to take a breath. To keep my mind blank. Think about nothing.

"What are you trying to hide from me Tara?" he asked softly.

…

"You know I was wondering?" Nelly asked as she handed her article revisions to Ed, the question loud enough that it was clear she was addressing the room at large.

"What were you wondering?" Malcom asked his tone tolerant and she smiled at the encouragement.

"I was wondering if maybe I should do an article on fortune telling."

Unable to help myself, looked up from the paper I was reading while Malcom's eyes darted to me, clearly amused.

"Why?" Ed asked his face pinching slightly, clearly surprised by the suggestion and Nelly shrugged.

"I dunno, it's interesting though, isn't it? And well, I never really believed in the whole tea leaves thing, but looked at what happened last week." She gestured towards the cup on her desk excitedly. "Allen and I are going out for a second date, and I know it doesn't work a lot of the time, but divination is a real branch of magic." She continued. "And people don't often talk about it. Not in any serious reporting anyways."

"That's because most of what seers claim is utter nonsense." I said flatly. "Complete rubbish from liars and con-artists looking to make easy galleons off of gullible people."

"T has a thing about Divination." Malcom said with a smirk.

"She won't touch the topic." Edmund agreed, but his expression was thoughtful. "And while most seers are frauds, there are real ones out there." he continued and my heart skipped a beat. "You could make it into a multipart series, about the different types of divination. What's real, what's not, common swindler's tricks, and how to tell if who you're dealing with is legitimate. Put out the facts, help people avoid getting conned. Maybe even a regular column if it does well."

"That's a great idea." Nelly said excitedly. "Does anyone know anything about divination? I mean, like real divination. Not just like party tricks or stuff people try at home. Does anyone have any contacts?"

"T always has a contact." Malcom said with a smirk and I glowered.

"I'm not working on this."

"Maybe we could find someone to consult with?" Nelly asked uncertainly, Malcom snorted.

"Not with our budget."

"He's probably right." Edmund said dejectedly. "Real seers are expensive to work with, and they're notorious for keeping themselves secluded."

"Don't want to reveal their tricks." Malcom agreed with a nod, and there was a moment where the excitement in the room started to die as the new idea hit a wall, leaving a bit of an awkward silence where it seemed no one could think of what to say next.

"I still think T probably knows someone." Malcom said his expression shrewd.

"I don't do divination." I repeated stubbornly, going back to the article in front of me.

It was sports related, but not one of mine. The Prophet, apparently realizing they were never going to get an interview out of Oliver had decided to remove itself from his backside and had written a glowing review of the reserve keeper, Andrews, who did, admittedly, play a very good game last night while Oliver was benched due to his injury.

To my surprise, there had been a few jabs about Oliver in the article, wondering if Andrews might have been the better choice. Probably the exact situation his agent had been trying to avoid by approaching us.

It probably would have worked too. His first real interview in years would have absolutely buried this nothing article of an opinion piece. But Oliver seemed determined to get in his own way.

"That's not a no." Malcom pointed out, causing me to glower at him over the print.

"Oh c'mon Tara." Nelly begged, shooting me a hopeful expression. "This is a really cool idea, and it could help people. I've never done a series before. It would be massive for me."

"You could interview Trelawny." Malcom said and I could practically feel his smirk as his gaze settled on me. "You know, the divination teacher at Hogwarts? She might talk to you."

"She's a mad old bat." I muttered knowing he'd only said it to get a rise out of me.

"But she's been proven to occasionally have the sight." Edmund said. "And she might have connections."

This I couldn't ignore.

"You cannot be serious Ed." I said putting down the paper and staring at him, incredulous.

"I think it's a great idea." Nelly said and I almost winced.

If ever there was a seller of snake oils…

"Fine." I muttered feeling exhausted and letting out a breath. "I'll find someone for you to talk to just… for the love of Merlin, not Trelawny." I shook my head. "You're trying to help people…"

Malcom's expression was the smuggest thing I'd ever seen. It made me want to jinx him, though I know he'd only said anything to try and help Nelly.

"Thanks T." Ed said smiling while Nelly squealed with delight.

"Does anyone know of any other seers?" She asked excitedly, glancing at each of us in turn. "Are there any famous ones right now? I know it's a rare talent, but usually there's at least one big name every once and a while…" She frowned. "Wasn't there a really famous one a few years back? Will… something?"

I froze.

"William Clearsight." Edmund supplied automatically, I felt a shock of something go through my body before it went numb. "Isn't he retired?"

"I thought he was killed during the war." Malcom said, his brow furrowing as he thought. "The Death Eaters got a hold of him, didn't they?"

"He was a fraud." I said quietly and they all turned towards me in surprise.

"What?" Nelly asked sounding startled and I felt a spike of bitterness go through me, images darting through my mind.

A rushing sensation, flashes of light, a green blast, William's body, wide eyed and life less on the floor of a manor house he'd ruined so many lives to afford.

"He was a fraud." I repeated icily. "He was a fraud, and the killed him for it."

No one seemed to know what to say to this and there was an awkward silence for a moment before Malcom broke it.

"Merlin that's rough." Ed muttered and a flash of anger went through me that I tried to control.

"Yeah." Nelly agreed, the word full of pity. "I mean, even if he was a liar, that's not worth getting killed over."

"Don't feel bad for him." I snapped feeling something sharp and painful twist within me, refusing to meet their eyes when all turned to look at me. "The man was parasite."

"What?" Nelly asked sounding confused as Ed frowned.

"How do you mean?"

Even Malcom looked uncomfortable at this point.

"He was a parasite." I repeated savagely. "He was well in with the Death Eaters and stole every bit of prophecy he claimed to have seen. The man was evil. He deserved what he got."

By the silence that followed, I could tell none of my coworkers were quite sure how to respond to my outburst, not least of all because I rarely got this upset. I didn't have to see my expression to know it was angry, and it was only when I'd tried to control my breathing did I realize it had gone quick and shallow.

I put my hands in my pockets to conceal the fact they'd curled into fists, grateful I wasn't holding my wand. If I had been, I was sure sparks would have shot from it.

"I don't get it." Nelly said uncertainly, her expression pinched as she tried to sort her thoughts. "How… How is it possible to steal a prophecy?"

"I think we might be stumbling into why T hates divination so much…" Malcom said quietly looking uncomfortable, Edmund however, appeared concerned.

"How do you know all this Tara?" he asked sounding genuinely shocked. "I've researched the hell out of Death Eaters and their connections, and this never came up."

"Yeah, well, you and I ran in very different circles growing up, didn't we?" I asked quietly, looking not at Edmund but the wall behind him almost afraid to make eye contact. "I doubt Voldemort and his followers would have wanted it broadcasted they'd been duped."

The statement was met with another uncomfortable silence.

It was a reminder of the unspoken truth none of us liked to think about if we could avoid it. That the paper devoted keeping the magical community informed, and ensuring channels of information stayed open so the ministry couldn't do what it had during the war, had a major contributor that was connected to Death Eaters and their supporters. Had had family among their ranks...

I knew none of them had judged me for it. That my co-workers, friends really, trusted me completely. But it was an awkward situation nevertheless. Potentially embarrassing even, if our readers ever found out.

But I didn't like to think about that.

"I do know someone who might be able to help you Nelly." I continued just to move on with the topic. "It might take a bit to get in contact with her, but she probably would help if I asked."

She nodded, and while her smile was grateful, it wasn't as bright as it normally would have been. The first signal of the odd, unsettled feeling that seemed to hang over the office for the remainder of the day.

No one really spoke much as the hours passed, and I found it was a relief when, long after Nelly and Malcom had left to go home, I stood from my desk and grabbed my bag, more eager than ever for my usual chat with Alicia, wanting to think about anything but work.

I was so distracted, I hadn't even noticed Ed had stepped out of his office until I'd reached for the door of the building and he said.

"Tara, wait."

I jolted and turned to see him across the room, his expression troubled as he leaned against his door frame and looked at me.

"You know you don't have to work Nelly's divination series if you don't want to, right?" he asked and I felt my heart sink. "If it makes you uncomfortable..."

"It's fine, Ed."

"I'm not sure it is."

"It's a good idea."

"I know it is, but that's not what I'm asking."

I didn't answer this and it seemed to agitate him further.

"Look, I know you don't like talking about the Death Eaters and their connections with your family."

I sighed.

"Ed-"

"And I didn't bring it up to harp on you about it," he continued putting his hands up in surrender. "You obviously don't want to talk about it, and I respect your privacy, but we're your friends Tara." His voice was sincere, as was his expression, and something about it caused guilt to rise within me, though strangely, I wasn't sure why. "I don't know what happened to you, but I've known you long enough to see something clearly did. And if you don't want to tell us that's fine, but if something is bothering you, say something. We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do."

"I know." I said with a nod and a corner of his mouth lifted slightly in half a grin.

"Familiar words coming from you." he said his eyes glittering with amusement as they settled over me, something significant in his tone. "It's a little spooky you know. How you seem to know everything."

"Nothing mystical about being well connected."

"Right." He said suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered me.

I often wondered if, despite covering quite well for someone whose life was constantly interrupted by the future, Ed might have been the only person to have guessed what I was. Or at least have gotten somewhere near the truth.

I didn't think it was obvious, and he'd never so much as hinted at any sort of suspicion, but Edmund was smart, observant, it was why he was good at his job. And we'd known each other for years now.

"Well," he continued straightening as he stood from the wall. "Like I said, you don't have to, but if you do decide to help Nelly with the project get me an update on your contact as soon as possible. It's a solid idea and I want to get started on it as soon as possible."

"I will, but I meant it when I said I've no idea how long it will take to find them. It could be tomorrow, or it could be six months from now, both are equally as likely."

"Six months?" he asked raising an eyebrow. "What are they in hiding?"

I shook my head.

"Just an old friend." I grinned a little as I said. "I tend to collect oddities. Can't seem to get rid of them, but you would know wouldn't you?"

"Yes." He said gravely. "I'm amazed Malcom was able to find someone."

This caught me so off guard I couldn't help but laugh.

"You know I don't think we're in position to judge anyone in that department. Unless like Nelly you've found a partner?" I ended this on a question but he shook his head, seeming a little amused.

"Nah." He said easily. "Much like you I'm married to my employment. Or at least in co-dependent relationship with it."

"I think it's the latter." I agreed pretending to frown. "For both of us unfortunately."

"Ah well."

I smiled and waved my good bye before stepping out, walking automatically to the muggle street to meet with Alicia, determined rid my mind of deadlines and article topics and think only of the food I was going to order once I reached the diner.

This worked for several blocks, until a series of images derailed my train of thought. Familiar faces in a well known setting, one of which I'd been looking forward to seeing tonight. The other I'd been hoping never to see again. Especially not in one of my favorite places in the city.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, so stunned I had no idea what to do, and it took a man stumbling into me from behind before I remembered to move.

"You have got to be kidding me." I said incredulously muttering a brief apology to the man before continuing to walk. "Has she gone mad?"

I was so surprised at what I'd seen, I almost hadn't believed it until I spotted the pair through the diner, seated at a table. Alicia, looking nervous, Oliver, as surly as ever.

"What on earth is she thinking?" I asked scowling.

Indignation had me tempted to turn heel and march right back to work before either one of them could see me, but just as I was about to, to think up an excuse and send message to her to call the meeting off, I saw Oliver glance at Alicia.

His expression shifted, clearly sensing her anxiety.

He looked worried for a moment, then grinned and said something.

I had no idea what it was, but it must have been at least a little amusing because she laughed and his smile grew, obviously pleased she'd seemed to relax a little.

It was clear he'd noticed her agitation, had wanted to make her feel better and as annoyed as I was with the situation, I couldn't help but feel my anger with the keeper soften ever so slightly.

From our last meeting, I'd gotten the impression that fame had turned Oliver into a selfish, arrogant person, who had little interest in other people or what they were feeling. But, no longer glowering, he looked more like he had back at school, more like an actual person than the ill-tempered quidditch star, and it was obvious that when Alicia had been upset, he'd tried to comfort her.

I didn't know how to feel about that.

Figuring it was better to see what they wanted, I decided just to grit my teeth and walk into the diner rather than risk another surprise visit.

'Besides,' I thought ruefully as the smell of coffee and fried food hit me the second I stepped through the door. 'I'm sure she has her reasons.'

I might not think much of Oliver, but I liked Alicia. No matter what she was doing her heart was in the right place. She wouldn't have brought him if she didn't think it was important.

Opov

"Oh I think this was a bad idea." Alicia muttered, her eyes going a bit wider as she spotted something behind me.

I turned and looked over my shoulder to see the door to the diner swinging shut, and Tara, her expression blank, walking towards the table.

"She looks angry."

"Angry?" I asked raising an eyebrow. "She doesn't look angry." I frowned a little before turning back to Alicia. "She doesn't look anything."

"That's how you know she's mad." She hissed looking down at her menu hastily.

"What could she possibly be upset about?" I asked skeptically, lowering my voice as her friend approached. "She knew this was happening. If she had such a problem with it, why'd she agree to come?"

"Well… about that…" she mumbled guiltily, glancing up from the specials and I felt a surge of cold dread go through me.

"Wait, you told her I was coming, right?" I asked.

"Not exactly…"

"Alicia!" I hissed in shock and she winced.

"Don't look at me like that." She said anxiously, her eyes going, if possible, even wider. "She never would have agreed to come if she knew."

"Because this is so much better." I muttered rubbing my face in agitation. "Merlin, Lis what were you thinking?"

She didn't get the chance to respond.

"Oliver." Said a neutral voice and I looked up to see Tara, arms folded over her chest as she inspected me, her eyes narrowed. "I didn't realize you'd be here. How's the extraction going?"

"The what?"

"The extraction." She repeated sliding into the seat next to Alicia and frowning at me, looking almost a little concerned. "Surely they must have made some progress of pulling your head out of your arse."

"Oh dear." Alicia said nervously as Tara smiled politely, as if taking a genuine interest in my health and while I wanted to snap back, I didn't.

I sighed.

"I guess I deserved that." I muttered as the sever appeared placing the coffees Alicia and I ordered on the table, surprised that along with the drinks there was a mug of tea as well as a bottle of honey that she set in front of Tara.

This must have been normal because Tara didn't question it. Instead, she grabbed the honey and poured some into the mug, clearly deciding not to answer me.

"Oliver wants to apologize." Alicia said quickly, obviously trying to smooth over the awkward start to the evening, and Tara glanced at her before looking back at her tea.

"Then maybe Oliver should do it," she said coolly, taking a sip her eyes meeting mine over the rim of the cup.

'Merlin.' I thought irritated. 'Why is she like this?'

It wasn't as if she was a saint...

"I'm sorry things got off to a bad start last time we spoke." I said partly because it was what I had to, and partly because it was true. "I'm sorry I upset you. I shouldn't have said what I did. I wasn't trying to offend you."

"I see." She said quietly putting her mug down, apparently thinking and Alicia seemed unsatisfied with this reaction.

"Oh come on Tara." She said rolling her eyes. "He said he was sorry. What more do you want?"

"I didn't ask for an apology Alicia." Tara pointed out, but Alicia was far from satisfied.

"You are not blameless in this situation." She insisted and Tara's eyebrows shot up. "You and I both know Oliver wouldn't have been nearly so defensive if you hadn't been so harsh when you were writing about him in your articles."

"He can't take criticism?"

"You are being ridiculous, T." Alicia said stubbornly and Tara frowned, but to my surprise, she didn't look offended.

She looked as if she was considering the statement which was weird. If her behavior from when we'd last met was anything to go by, I hadn't gotten the feeling that Tara didn't handle conflict all that well. But maybe that was just because she didn't like me.

"Why do you care what I write about you?" she asked sounding genuinely confounded by the question. "You're the professional athlete after all. You're an internationally ranked player. And you're going to the World Cup." She said a note of incredulity in her tone at this point. "What does it matter to you if some random columnist has a couple of comments?"

"Well," I said uncomfortable, suddenly wishing Alicia wasn't here as I looked at her friend.

There was something strangely familiar about the way she was looking at me, dark eyes speculative, almost as if she was looking right through me into my own thoughts while her own continued elude me.

"You're usually right."

Whatever answer she'd been expecting, it clearly hadn't been this because a look of surprise flashed across her features.

"He reads all your articles." Alicia said quickly and Tara glanced at her.

"Lis!" I said, mortified at this betrayal.

"What? You do. You're always saying how she's the only quidditch writer who knows what the hell she's talking about."

"I do not."

"You do." She continued grinning. "And you know that article The Prophet ran after your first season, defending you after you got robbed for rookie of the year in the national league?"

"Alicia…" Tara said, warning in her tone but Alicia ignored her.

"She wrote it." she continued, nodding towards Tara who looked mortified.

"You did?"

"Some of it." she said with dignity, but avoiding my eye all the same.

"All of it." Alicia said pointedly.

"But I didn't see-"

"Her boss took credit for it." Alicia said cutting me off. "She was new. Put his name on it immediately after she turned it in, and they ran it the next day."

"Seriously?" I asked looking at Tara who shrugged.

"No wonder you left." I muttered not entirely sure how I felt about this information.

My parents had had that article framed. It was still hanging on their sitting room wall…

"So." Alicia said happily, her tone encouraging. "Maybe you two aren't as different as you guys might have thought."

She beamed as I glanced at Tara, feeling a bit wary. My apprehension was reflected back to me as Tara frowned, clearly thinking.

"Tell you what." Alicia continued, her tone business like. "Tara and I were going to go to the Harpies game on Friday. Why doesn't Oliver go in my place and you two can do your interview for The Quill there?"

"Hold on a second." I started just as Tara muttered.

"I didn't agree-."

"Oh stop acting like children the pair of you!" Alicia snapped sounding impatient for once and I felt a surge of guilt.

Judging by her expression, Tara had as well.

"At least at the game there would be something to talk about other than taking shots at each other. Honestly, with the way you two are behaving it feels like we're back at school." She continued rolling her eyes.

This I didn't understand, but to my surprise, Tara's cheeks went a bit pink and I looked at her, confused.

"You two are supposed to be professionals, right?" Alicia asked raising her eyebrows at us. "Act like it."

"Fine." Tara muttered crossing her arms over her chest, seeming to want to look at anything other than Alicia and myself.

"Alright." I muttered and Alicia took a sip of her coffee, apparently satisfied with her work.

We set up a time to meet this weekend, but I didn't stick around for the meal, seeing as I'd unintentionally crashed Tara's dinner plans with Alicia.

I meant to send an owl first thing when I got home, telling Mallory I'd likely fixed things with The Quill, but when I reached into my desk drawer looking for one to write with, I spotted the stack of paper jammed under odd bits of junk and half used ink bottles.

Frowning, I shifted the drawer's contents and pulled out the pages, looking at the stacks of articles over the years, some of which dated back to the very start of my career.

Several of these I'd meant to hang up like my parents had, but just had never gotten around to it.

I riffled through story after story until I reached one towards the end of the pile, realizing it was the article Alicia had mentioned earlier. The opinion piece in The Prophet that Tara had supposedly written, and her boss had taken credit for.

Frowning, I tossed the papers onto my desk and sat, re-reading the article after years with fresh eyes.

'Alicia was right.' I thought startled as I scanned the lines.

It was definitely Tara's writing, if not tempered a little probably because of where it had been printed. Her outrage at whatever was bothering her softened by what I supposed was a requirement of marketability and not irritating important people. But despite this, and after all this time, it could tell that it was her, and as I went back over the articles in The Prophet, I realized it wasn't the only one.

Several articles, all of them positive had been written in the paper about me in her distinctive style, none of them credited to her. All under the same name. A. Robinson.

'That had to have been her boss.' I thought distractedly. 'The one who'd stolen all her work.'

It took me a moment to notice I was scowling at this realization, though strangely, I wasn't sure why. I mean, yeah it was a scummy move for her boss to steal her work, but at the same time, it didn't seem like something Tara would have put up with.

Why had she let him do it? Clearly she had no problems telling me to go to hell, and offending people in her articles didn't really seem to be much of an issue for her.

'Perhaps this was how she'd learned to be so comfortable using pseudonyms.' I thought vaguely, opening the drawer again, intending to shove the papers back in when something slipped from between the pages in the stack.

Confused, I bent over and picked up what looked to be a letter. It was old, older even than the newspapers, the parchment yellowed over the years and with a jolt, I realized what it was.

Frowning, I looked back into the drawer and saw that the papers weren't the only thing that had been buried along the bottom, forgotten about over the years. Digging through the mess, I pulled up a stack of what I already knew were letters. Notes and diagrams, ink players wriggling over hastily drawn sketches of a quidditch pitch, the enchantments still working after all this time.

The handwriting that accompanied them was familiar and, as if waiting for this moment, Alicia's voice popped from the back of my mind saying.

'It feels like we're back at school.'

I hesitated for a moment.

'It's just a coincidence.' I thought vaguely, grinning a little as I went through the letters. Laughing as one sprang from the pile, folding itself into a miniature broomstick and zipped around the room. 'Even if I sent a letter, who was to say she'd even respond.'

It had been years since we'd been in contact, and I wasn't the one who'd stopped responding.

'Still…' I thought, a strange sense of anticipation running through me as I looked at the letters in my hand

That didn't mean I couldn't be the one to reach out.

It had been what, almost a decade at this point?

I wasn't sure at what point I'd sat at the desk, but when I did, the paper broom slowed to a stop, hovering in front of me.

I let out a breath and couldn't help but smile a little as I picked it up, admiring the spell work.

'What the hell?' I thought letting go of the parchment and it took off.

I'd already had to swallow my pride once today, what did it matter at this point?

So, grabbing a quill and a fresh sheet of parchment, I dipped it into an inkwell, then paused.

What did you say to someone you hadn't spoken to in almost a decade? Especially when you never even knew their name…

'Maybe this is a bad idea.' A voice said anxiously in the back of my mind, and I let go of the quill.

I didn't know why she'd stopped writing. For all I knew, she didn't want to hear from me. Like it or not, being famous you had to be careful who you talked to, and how much you told them.

Maybe it was best just to let sleeping dragons lie...

'Or maybe.' A second, far more stubborn voice started rebelliously. 'She would. Maybe it would be good to have someone to talk to outside your personal and professional life. An outsider. Someone who could give you advice.'

'She'd always been good at that.' I thought frowning.

Deciding to ignore the decade between correspondence, I picked up the quill and put it to the parchment determined to act as if nothing had happened, like no time had passed, and, feeling lighter than I had in years, I began to write.