Laila entered the dining room cautiously. Everyone was laughing and eagerly congregating around the table, Mr. Weasley at the head of it all while Mrs. Weasley playfully chided her children. Laila took a step back and leaned against the doorframe, her head making a light thump as she allowed herself to relax and take in everything in front of her. This was the family she was supposed to become a part of. But it didn't feel like she belonged, at least not yet. She worried if she made her presence known, she would create a destructive ripple across the comfortable scene. It was better to just watch for now and wait for the right moment to make the final leap.
"This must all seem overwhelming to you. I remember my first time eating dinner with the entire family."
Laila turned to the voice and came face to face with a beautiful blonde young woman with an ethereal quality about her. She wracked her brain, trying to place a name to the face. Fleur, Fred's oldest brother Bill's wife. The beautiful French woman who had left her family and her country to make a home with a man she fell in love with.
"France sometimes seems so far away," Fleur continued, almost as if she had been able to pry through Laila's innermost thoughts and plucked the one thing that at that moment made them allies. "But time just slips up on you. I can't even pinpoint the exact moment when I unconsciously started associating home with England and Bill."
Laila gave a half smile before turning her torso to face Fleur. "It's definitely a lot," she agreed. "I just spent the last 24 hours meeting everyone who will be a permanent fixture for the rest of my life. I'm still just trying to process how I ended up across the world and having dinner with my future in-laws in a matter of less than two days."
Fleur chortled. "Wait until you get married. The real fun starts then." She gently laid a hand on Laila's arm. "My door is always open if you wish to talk. Everyone is very kind here, and Hermione and Harry may not have been born Wealseys, but much of their childhood was intertwined with this family. It's sometimes easier to talk with someone who started off on the outside of things."
"Thanks, Fleur," Laila returned her smile.
"What are you two still doing standing there?" Mrs. Weasley's amused voice carried through the room and brought a reign of temporary silence as everyone turned their focus towards Laila. She willed herself not to wilt under the attention. It worked when she cross-examining a defendant, but not so much when she felt like the guilty party herself.
"Come, dear. You will sit by me. I have so much to discuss with you. The wedding, your likes, your family. You will be a Weasley soon enough and a part of this family. No need to be shy." Mrs. Weasley grabbed Laila's arm and gently tugged her to her seat.
"Yeah, Laila no need to be afraid," George flashed her a teasing grin, but Laila caught the comforting tone underneath his words.
As the chatter resumed once more, Laila found herself being nicely interrogated by Fred's parents.
"Hermione tells me your family is from India," Mrs. Weasley politely chatted, gesturing for Laila to fill up her plate.
"Yes," Laila replied. "My parents grew up in India and immigrated to America. My sisters and I were born in the States and grew up there."
"That sounds nice," Mrs. Weasley smiled. "You grew up with the best of both worlds."
"Now that is interesting." Mr. Weasley thoughtfully chewed his food. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Laila, but your last name 'Vikander' is Swedish in origin, right?"
"You're correct about that, Mr. Weasley," Laila smiled, pleased that someone had recognized a part of her heritage without her having to break it down for them. "My paternal grandfather was Swedish, and my dad grew up in India as half-Indian and half-Swedish."
"So that's where you're str-er-interesting looking eyes come from!" Ginny looked intriguingly at Laila, who tried to return a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. She had dealt with the stereotypes of being Muggleborn and Indian her entire life, but at times she still felt like an object on display at a museum, something to be ogled at. Not a living, breathing human being with a personality that encompassed much more than just her background. But if there was one thing that life had taught Laila, it was that angrily voicing these feelings did more harm than good. Most people were just curious about her and wanted to learn more. Unfortunately, that curiosity did not always manifest in the best of circumstances.
Deciding to ignore Ginny's overeager tone, Laila returned her smile indulgently. "Actually, no. My paternal grandfather had dark eyes like my father. I inherited my eye color from my maternal grandmother. My mother has quite a bit of Indian and Afghan ancestry on her side of the family. So really, my family comes from all corners of the globe."
"And now you'll be continuing it in England, how exciting," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. Noticing Laila's plate was still mostly empty, Mrs. Weasley took it upon herself to casually begin dumping food onto it and she continued chatting with her. As the conversation flowed, Laila felt the tension in her shoulders beginning to lessen and she allowed more of her personality to shine through.
"So if your parents are Muggles what do they?" Ron asked casually, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth.
Laila struggled to keep a straight face as she watched him trying to chew the clear over-excess of food he had dumped into his mouth. "My dad is a linguistics professor. He teaches about language documentation and the origin of South Asian languages. And my mom is-was a physician. So a non-magical healer equivalent."
There was a slight hesitancy in her voice as Laila broached the topic of her mother, but it was almost unnoticeable. If Fred hadn't known about her mother's death, it would have been something quite easy to dismiss. He was sitting across from Laila and next to his brother, giving him a convenient spot to watch her interactions with her family. He has seen her relax the more she spoke with his parents and brothers, but had also caught onto the reluctance to speak about her parents.
"So does she do something else now or did she retire?" Ron asked curiously.
Laila carefully neutralized her tone. "She actually passed away more than a decade ago, but my dad always used to joke that she would die standing in front of the operating table." She smiled at the memory of her parents playfully fighting. "She loved her job and her patients. I honestly don't think she ever would have retired. My two older sisters both became physicians and took after her in that department." Laila chuckled quietly.
She glanced up at Ron, who kept opening his mouth slightly like fish, gaping and struggling on what to say next. Exasperated, Fred gave his brother an expertly aimed kick under the table, bringing Ron out of his stupor. "I'm sorry for your loss," he finally sputtered out. Laila gave a sad smile in return and nodded her thanks.
Sensing the somber mood that was beginning to rise across the table, Laila decided to speak up. "Thank you for having me over for dinner. I know with everything going on, this must have been a bit of shock, but even with all that, thank you for being so welcoming and kind."
Mrs. Weasley squeezed Laila's hand in comfort and gave her a tender smile, which Laila returned. The rest of the dinner continued in a slightly deflated mood, but within a matter of minutes the laughter returned when the main courses were whisked away and dessert was brought in. As Fleur and Mrs. Weasley began cleaning up after dinner had ended, Laila insisted
on helping to wash the dishes and clear the table. Even though most of the work was done by magic, it gave her a chance to interact with Fred's family on a deeper level. She saw the laughter and glimpses of kindness he had inherited from his mother, who emitted warmth in waves. And the humor and quirky cleverness he had inherited from his father.
When the last of everything had been cleaned away, Laila wiped her hands on a dish towel. "The rest of the family is in the living room, but I believe Fred went up to his room. Feel free to take however long you wish to bring him down here." Fleur gave her a saucy wink, "Just don't forget the silencing charm, don't want you to have to learn it the hard way." Laila gave a snort at the ridiculousness of Fleur's comment. Does she really think we're going to have sex while his family is downstairs and when we just met yesterday?
She waved away the last part of Fleur's comment and climbed the rickety stairs in search of Fred. The steps creaked and sighed under her weight as Laila carefully placed her hand on the bannister for support. When she had almost reached the top, the realization hit her that she had neglected to ask which room actually was Fred's old room.
Well done, when it comes to common sense you really take the lead on everything, Laila, she thought sarcastically to herself. She didn't have time to ponder over her thoughts for long before a quiet murmur echoed from one of the doors further down the corridor. Laila paused on top of the stairs, cocking her head, hoping that would help her to hear better. When the murmur grew louder, Laila briskly walked to the other side of the corridor and froze with her hand just inches above the doorknob.
Deciding to take a leap of faith, she cautiously opened the door, wincing at the loud creaking sound that echoed behind her. The sight of Fred lying on his bed welcomed her. He was clearly asleep, with his eyebrows furrowed, but this was no peaceful dream. He was mumbling and shaking, and Laila recognized the signs of a nightmare, an experience she had lived through countless nights.
She rushed to his side and gently shook his shoulder.
"Fred," she quietly called. "Fred, it's okay." Fred awoke almost immediately, sitting up in sudden shock as he seemed to take in his surroundings. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he struggled to take in a breath. Laila conjured a glass of water and guided him to drink.
As Fred finally relaxed and the color came back to his face, he only then registered Laila's presence. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"It's okay," Laila murmured. "I get them too. Especially the vivid ones that make it harder to accept that I'm not reliving through everything again."
Fred gave her a wry smile. "Yeah they really drain my energy." He pushed himself up into a more comfortable sitting position, leaning back against the pillows that Laila had propped up so he would have a better view of her face.
"How do you deal with them?" he finally asked.
"It took me a while, but I started seeing someone. A therapist, someone who could help me process everything that happened to me."
Fred gave a snort at Laila's response. "I was hoping you had some sort of magic cure-it-all potion. Since you claim Ilvermorny is so advanced, I was hoping you had come up with a potion that would cure my nightmares permanently."
Laila crossed her arms in mock anger. "First of all, I never said Ilvermorny is superior. It has just as many credentials as Hogwarts. And considering Hermione attended Hogwarts and is one of the most brilliant witches of our time, I'd say that is proof enough. You and George on the other hand don't exactly help on that part though."
Fred gaped at her. "I'll have you know that we're proof that the magic we learn in school can be applied to many creative outlets. I can name more than ten people off the top of my head who would agree with me."
Laila's mouth twitched. "Let me guess, they're your employees whom you pay or Hogwarts students who have bought your products and used them to skip class or get into other sorts of trouble."
Fred grinned. "I never reveal my sources." He smiled as Laila laughed at his response, a full blown laugh, not just a half-hearted chuckle. If anything, it made him feel better to know that the woman he was going to be spending the rest of his life with had more than one side to her.
Laila sombered up after a few minutes. "But seriously, Fred. This isn't something an overnight dreamless sleep potion can cure. Trust me, I learned the hard way how important it is to confront your past head on."
Fred pursued his lips before giving a curt nod. "I'll think about it," he replied shortly. He wasn't going to dump his entire life onto her lap just yet.
"I'm sorry about Percy downstairs. He can be an egghead sometimes, especially when it comes to his own achievements," Fred added, deciding to change the topic.
"Without realizing how other people might be affected by them, especially if it comes to marriage laws?" Laila cocked her head with a rueful smile. She had picked up on the wall Fred was building up again and decided to give it time. He would tear it down brick by brick when they had spent enough time together.
Fred rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Yeah we never really got along in the beginning. After the war, we became much closer. It's just there are times when-" Fred blew out air through his nostrils, leaving his thought hanging.
Laila waved it away. "I have two older sisters. No need to explain." She rubbed her temples tiredly, feeling a throbbing headache that was coming on.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Fire away," Laila replied absently.
"What do you actually think about our circumstance with this marriage law?" Laila's ears perked up at Fred's question.
"As in what you really think, not the legal mumbo-jumbo you spewed to Percy."
Laila raised her eyebrows in amusement. "So just because I expressed my legal opinion on this law, which by the way I'm pretty qualified on, you think it's not my actual opinion."
Fred shrugged, giving her a lopsided grin. "If we're going on that argument, every defense lawyer also has a private opinion about the client they're defending. It's just their choice on whom they decide to tell it to."
So this is how he's trying to get me to spill my guts, Laila thought. Alright, I'll bite.
"Alright then, I wasn't too thrilled," Laila replied bluntly. "My career was taking off, my relationship with my dad was getting to be in a good place, and I was healing. Of course you can make the argument that my career wasn't damaged with this move or the law, but I still left my family and friends behind. I'm still sitting in a foreign country where I have to start my life over from zero. And I'm getting married when I had no plans of ever doing so."
"Ever?" Fred asked. "Or is this in more of an exaggeration context."
"No, I'm serious," Laila insisted. "I have a complicated life, Fred. Most of my days are taken over by my job. Bringing another person into that would just make it worse for them and for me."
"It could also make it better," Fred countered. "Someone that could help balance out your busy days and give you a start to expand your personal life beyond your professional one."
Laila leaned back, taking a moment to process Fred's words. "I see your point, but do you really think we can make it work? Practically, we have no choice if we're going to survive."
"Yeah, yeah I do," Fred answered honestly. He stopped speaking for a moment, only continuing when Laila finally met his piercing stare. "I had my doubts, but then after our first meeting, I was sure."
Laila struggled not to squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze. "So all of your doubts were cleared up based on some first impressions," she joked lightly.
Fred brushed over her words and continued in that same intense tone. "You agreed to move here because you understood my career and my family were both so intertwined in England. You visited my joke shop and actually showed interest in what I do instead of brushing it aside as a side hobby. And you sat with my family and opened yourself up to them. That's all I needed before I was sure."
The temperature in the room was climbing, at least in Laila's imagination. Fred's words sent a shiver down her spine, and she struggled not to break eye contact with him. She tried to respond, but nothing intelligible popped out.
Fred, in turn, reached out a hand and used two of his fingers to trace over Laila's face, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch. He leaned forward to the point Laila could feel his breath on his face.
"Your eyes are bloody incredible. It's hard to see where one color begins and the other ends." His breath ghosted over her face as his nose slightly rubbed against hers. She felt her breath hitch as Fred continued speaking.
"Relax, Laila, and for once don't overthink it."
As Fred was leaning in closer, a loud bang startled them both, causing Laila to jam her forehead onto Fred's. He leaned back rubbing his head in pain and muttering a curse at Ron, who currently was chewing on one of Laila's samosas in clear delight.
"These are bloody delicious Laila! Hermione can't cook for her life. If you ever have any extra Indian food left over, my stomach is always open."
"Want to repeat that again, Ronald?" Hermione poked her head through the door and was about to retort at Ron when she caught a glimpse of Laila and Fred. She noted the sudden distance they had put between each other, with Laila now standing on the other side of the room, and the redness that colored the tips of Fred's ears.
Immediate recognition of what was going on dawned on Hermione and a slow smirk began to spread over her face. Reactly instantly, she grabbed Ron's arm and yanked him through the door before giving a teasing farewell.
"Enjoy each other's company," she cackled. "I'll just let Mrs. Weasley know you're both too busy getting to know each other on an intimate level to come downstairs just yet."
Her laughter was the last thing Laila heard before the door shut behind the couple with a soft click, such a contrast to the way it had burst open. Although not ideal, Laila was secretly thankful for the interruption. Things were moving at breakneck speed and just in the past 24 hours, she felt like a frozen spectator with no chance of slamming the brakes.
When the last echoes of footsteps had faded down the corridor, Laila finally turned her attention away from the door and faced Fred. Miraculously, his entire face had reddened to the color of a ripe carrot and had become much brighter than his hair. The sight was something else, and Laila found herself laughing before she could stop herself. And not just a polite laugh, but a complete snort and full-belly laugh ripped through her as she gave up on trying to control herself.
Fred looked up at her confused. "What?" He patted his face consciously, and not finding anything unusual, continued to gaze at Laila.
It took her a few moments before all that was left of her amusement were a few choking gasps as she struggled to get her voice back.
"Your...face," Laila choked out. "It was redder than your hair. I think you broke…a world record." She burst out laughing again and finally managed to tamp it down when she noticed Fred's incredulous expression.
"Ah-never mind," she waved her hand. "Once you spend enough time around me, you'll get used to my weird sense of humor."
Fred smirked. "Was that a jab at me for being white and blushing too obviously?"
Laila only smiled meekly and exaggeratedly shrugged her shoulders.
"I have spent time with Angelina and Lee, you know," Fred retorted. "I won't be too upset if you continue to make me the scapegoat of your jokes."
"Oh believe me," Laila chortled. "I already like Angelina, and I cannot wait to spend more time coming up with inside jokes over your...interesting habits shall we say."
Fred grinned and patted his comforter. "Sit down, Vikander. I promise not to jump you...yet."
Laila glared at him before sitting on the bed, tucking her bare legs underneath her dress and leaning slightly forward on her knees to get comfortable.
"Does that make you feel uncomfortable?" Fred asked bluntly.
Laila cocked her head in question. "What exactly?"
"Being with someone who is a different race than you are."
Laila thought for a second before answering. "Honestly, it doesn't really matter to me. With same race couples, the nice thing is that I don't have to explain the type of racism I may encounter or explain references to Indian culture or Bollywood songs. There's an extra challenge to being part of a mixed-race couple. At least in my opinion, it's important to acknowledge that my partner is of a different race, but that shouldn't hinder my ability to connect and open up to that person. I choose to be with someone based on their personality, not the color of their skin."
"Or because of legal reasons," Fred grinned.
"Or that." Laila laughed quietly before sobering up rather quickly. "Thanks for asking. Just in my past experience, most people don't broach topics about race."
Fred shrugged. "It's not something that really came up in my mind until Angelina and George started dating, and I started to see the dynamics of their relationship."
He sat up slightly and mimicked Laila's position, leaning forward on his elbows. "And with the war it just changed so much. Innocent people were killed because of their blood status, which is not all that different with people in the past being murdered because of their race."
Laila shook her head with a sigh. "It's just awful that it takes something awful as this war to bring realization about topics like this."
She smiled at Fred as she continued. "I'm glad your business is going well and that you were able to find joy in your work again after the horrors of everything."
Fred leaned back against the headboard and laced his fingers as he placed his hands behind his head. "I just like that George and I can spread some joy after everything. That whole year was utter hell."
Laila shuddered as she was bombarded by the memories of her past at Fred's statement. She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched forward slightly. When she looked up at Fred's concerned look, she gave a wry smile. "I wish I had that luxury. I'm supposed to be the voice of justice for everything that happened, but it sickens me to hear such horrible stories. The number of survivors I've spoken to and can relate to-".
Her breath hitched as she realized she almost revealed to Fred what had happened to her. Thankfully, he either did not catch her hesitation or was polite enough not to pounce on it. Now was the perfect time to make her exit.
"We should head downstairs," she said abruptly, bouncing off of the bed and dusting imaginary dirt off of her clothes. Laila headed towards the knob and squeezed it, struggling to open it, only to feel a looming shadow behind her back that was blocking her attempt at getting away.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," Fred murmured quietly, his breath tickling her ear. Laila could feel his presence just behind her, his chest almost touching her shoulder. She turned halfway and looked up at his face. His eyes were filled with genuine concern and a touch of regret. The more she looked, the more she noticed the amber streaks highlighting the warmth in his eyes. She took a shuddering breath before responding.
"You didn't...it's just," Laila bit her tongue lightly in frustration as she struggled to formulate her thoughts. "I struggle with physical intimacy and to some extent emotional intimacy because of my past. It has nothing to do with you Fred. You've been nothing but kind and helpful since I've landed here. This is just...this is just something that I am not completely ready to share with you."
Fred smirked, "It's not the middle ages, you know. I frankly don't give a shit if you're virgin or if you've fucked your way across America."
The words were meant to be funny, but Fred's tone was alienating and abrasive and stung at Laila. A cold hand seemed to reach into her and grip her spine, ready to squeeze her vertebral discs until her blood and spinal blood leaked out of her body. So she did what she always did in response to fear or disparaging remarks. Carefully, Laila turned on her cold mask and looked up.
Fred's hands were resting on the door, and his body weight was pushed against it. Stealthily, Laila steadied her hand on the doorknob and turned it quietly before abruptly stepping out of the way. To her satisfaction, Fred was completely surprised as he tumbled out and landed on the wooden floor.
"What the fuck?" He looked up at Laila in shock, too taken aback to properly process what had happened.
Laila brought in a cold tone to her voice as she spoke, raising her five foot-six inches frame as high as it would go.
"Remember that the next time you call me a slut or seek to demean me in any other way." Her icy voice stabbed Fred as he continued to gawk at her. "It isn't the medieval era after all, so that means I am no longer your property and will act to defend myself when it comes down to it. You've been through shit, and I get it. But that doesn't give you the right to take out your anger on me. Get that through your thick skull now, because I do not like to repeat myself."
Shooting Fred one last disgusted glance, Laila turned and climbed down the stairs. A few minutes had passed as she made herself acquainted with Fred's family before she noticed him enter the living room. His face was screwed up in thought, and when their eyes met, she knew it only would be a matter of seconds before he made his way to her.
Great. This is not something I am in the mood for.
Seeking an exit, Laila latched onto Percy with great enthusiasm.
"Hey, Percy," she smiled brightly at him. "Fred told me he was really interested in discussing the logistics of the marriage law. Since I am not an expert on the topic, I thought you could fill him in. Oh look-here he comes now."
When Fred entered into her line of vision, Laila noticed Percy perk up in delight as he turned towards his younger brother. "I am so glad to see you're actually showing interest in the clauses. Now we'll need to get comfortable before I really start breaking down…"
Laila tuned out and gave Fred a wry smile in response to his glare as she went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Really, it was just an excuse for her to take a breath and calm her nerves. To her dismay, she found she was not alone.
Bill was leaning against the counter casually, eating a slice of cake his mother had made. When he noticed Laila, he gave her a sheepish grin.
"I figured Mum would be too busy to hunt for me here if she noticed me sneaking a few pieces. But this was too good to pass up, even if I get yelled at for it."
Laila laughed and sat across the counter from Bill. From what she had learned from Fleur in passing conversation, he was a Curse-Breaker and rather a good one at that.
"How are you liking my brother?" Bill questioned through a mouthful of food.
Laila lips quirked slightly in a smile, "Everyone's been nothing but kind and really welcoming to me since I got here." She pushed what had happened upstairs out of her head with a brisk shove.
Bill gave her a knowing smile. "You just dodged my question. I know you like our family, but I asked you about Fred."
Laila had the decency to blush. She knew Bill wasn't going to let her go without a proper answer. "He's….It seems he has been through a lot this past year. Sometimes I think I can feel him opening up, other times clamping down hard. He's very….abrasive." She found herself vomiting her feelings out, but was left feeling rather relieved.
Bill grinned, "Freddie's always been like that. Out of both the twins, he's the more brash one and the least likely to give a shit about coming off as polite. George too, but not as much as Fred."
He set down his empty plate before continuing, leaning his elbows onto the countertop to level his gaze with Laila's. "He's complicated but worth it. I think you'll end up being very good for each other."
Laila wanted to strangle him, but instead chose to give a smile that came off more as a grimace.
Bill laughed at her expression. " I got to say, you did a decent job of figuring him out considering you only met this morning."
Laila ran her tongue across the tops of her teeth, feeling the smooth surfaces and suddenly missing the painful barbed braces that were stuck there just a few years ago. "It's my job. How else do you think I put away criminals that are good at being charismatic and manipulating the jury?"
"You should introduce all of them to the goblins at Gringotts," Bill laughed. "Now that's a jury that would wipe the charm right off their pants."
Laila joined in his laughter before the clock caught her eye. It was past midnight, and she had a meeting with a witness tomorrow. If I want to sound coherent tomorrow, then I need to sleep off some of this jet lag.
She stood and extended her hand out to Bill. "Nice meeting you. I'm sorry to cut it short, but I have a meeting early tomorrow morning."
"Already working, huh? Don't burn yourself out too quickly. Pace yourself for the long haul."
She smiled at Bill's advice. "That's something my sister Jacqueline would say. Anyways, have a good night." The memory of her oldest sister gave Laila a taste of home, filling her with bittersweet happiness.
She made her away across the living room, exchanging good-byes, leaving Fred's parents for last.
"You sure you can't stay longer, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"I wish I could, but this is something I can't miss."
"Well in that case," Mrs. Weasley reached behind her and dumped a few Tupperware containers into Laila's arms. "Some food that will last you the week. Now no objections here. I do this for everyone, and if you're going to get used to living in a different country and adjusting your sleep schedule, you can't be worrying about your next meal."
Laila's throat tightened at Mrs. Weasley's kind words and she struggled to speak with tears pricking at her eyes. "Thank you. Really. I can't remember the last time-"
Laila paused and left her thought unspoken. The last time someone made dinner for me like this.
Instead of speaking any more, she briefly gave Mrs. Weasley a hug. Laila waved at everyone once more before stepping out onto the porch to apparate back to her flat.
"Leaving so soon?" Fred was leaning against the porch railing, watching her with an expressionless face.
"It's past midnight." Laila shook her hair out and straightened the containers in her arms. "I hardly call that soon." She turned her face to Fred, opened her mouth to speak. But, thinking better of it, she just sighed before vanishing.
Within a matter of seconds, she was back in her flat, putting the food Mrs. Weasley had packed for her in the fridge when her eyes caught the flaky crust of the pie that Fred had made for her. Gritting her teeth, she stared at it for a few seconds before grabbing the dessert and shoving it into the furthest corner of the fridge.
There, out of sight out of mind. She cursed herself for not having the guts to throw it out. A part of her still clung onto Bill's words. 'I think you'll end up being very good for each other.'
"Great," she spoke out loud. "Just great." With a groan, Laila kicked off her heels and flopped onto her bed, needing to rest for a second before she changed.
The morning was crisp and dewey. The sun had yet to rise completely, but it was still comfortable. Laila sat on a chair closest to the cafe door, sipping her coffee as she waited for the young woman to show up. Peter had messaged her name-Joanna, the cafe, and to sit by the door but in a chair facing away from the entrance. She must be really frightened if she asked to meet me in a Muggle cafe in Yorkshire.
Her thoughts were interrupted with the tinkling of a bell. Laila looked up and saw a young girl no older than Ginny timidly enter. She glanced up at the entrance before noticing Laila and hurriedly making her way towards her. As she settled in the chair she hunched over and furtively glanced underneath the large cap she had stuffed over her head and tugged her coat around her, warding off a non-existent waited for the girl to begin speaking first.
"Hi, Joanna," the young girl mumbled.
Laila gave her a kind smile in greeting. "Laila, would you like me to order you something? It's on me."
Joanna peered up at her, carefully assessing her. As if deciding that Laila was safe enough to speak to, she gave an imperceptible nod. "No thank you, I'm not hungry. I just came here to say that I don't think I want to testify. What happened to me wasn't that bad anyways. I'd rather just not talk about if it's all the same to you."
Laila's eyes softened. "Joanna," she began quietly. "What happened to you was wrong. It caused you pain and grief, and that is something that is immeasurable against whatever else other survivors have gone through because they experience the same pain and grief you do. Sexual assault is assault, regardless of the legal classifications of it."
Joanna shook her head. "I'm getting the court ordered therapy, so why do I need to testify? Is it the end of the world if I don't want the rest of the world knowing what happened to me?" Her voice shook with suppressed anger and tears.
Laila lowered her gaze. "Believe me when I say this, I feel your pain. Your decision to testify is completely up to you. I'm just asking you to hear me out." Laila waited for Joanna to acknowledge her before continuing.
"I've worked with many survivors closely when fighting their cases. Regardless of their attacker being convicted or not, all of them told me they felt relieved they had a chance to speak out and confront their attacker. I know it is hard to believe, but I understand-"
"Do you?" Joanna snapped. "Do you know what it feels like to be groped and humiliated and then to freeze up because you never thought something like this would happen to you?"
Laila bit her lip, directing her gaze to the salt shaker on the table.
"I know you must fight cases like this all the time, but how dare you say you know what it feels like. Because I guarantee you don't unless you've been through-" Joanna paused, her anger subsiding as she noticed the expression on Laila's face.
Normally, Laila would never disclose her personal history to a survivor she was working to bring justice for. There was a line between being professional and then getting personal. But this, this was something where she would need to dance on the line.
"I was raped four years ago," Laila replied quietly. She kept her gaze on the table and continued speaking. "I was still a prosecutor so I called the authorities, but I kept everything bottled up inside of me for so long. I still do sometimes. But when I got on that stand-"
She took a deep breath, calming her nerves. "When I testified and told my story, I realized that I could take my power away from my rapists. They took a part of me, but I wouldn't let them control how the rest of my life would turn out. I testified and confronted them. And when they were convicted, I felt some peace knowing that while I would live the rest of my life out, they would sit rotting in prison." Her eyes flashed with intense pain and a deep resilience that she had to instill in herself from a young age.
Joanna didn't speak for a few minutes. "What," she cleared her dry throat. "What do I say if I testify?"
"I'll walk you through everything," Laila replied. "We'll go over your story point by point as well as potential questions the defense could throw at you. It won't be easy, Joanna. But it will be worth it."
Laila paused, carefully selecting her words. "I don't want you to think I shared my story with you to sway your decision. My job is to fight for you and support whatever you decide. If you choose not to testify, we still have other survivors that will speak out, and this man will go to jail for the rest of his life. That I can promise you. I just want you to be aware of all sides before doing it."
Joanna bit her lip. "Will you be prosecuting my case and be there the whole time?" When Laila nodded, Joanna smiled, "Okay then. I think….I think I can do this. When do you need me next?"
Laila smiled gently, "This Friday work for you?"
When Joanna nodded in agreement, Laila smiled. As Joanna stood and walked to the door, she paused and tentatively extended her hand towards Laila. Cautiously as to not startle her, Laila slowly reached out and squeezed Joanna's hand.
Laila sat back, watching as Joanna exited the cafe, and examined her now cold black coffee.
"Laila?"
Laila jumped in surprise and turned to see Angelina standing behind her, her eyes filled with warmth and compassion.
Shit, how much did she hear?