Chapter 24
Iphigenia Darnell ducked into her tent at Makalu base camp and threw herself onto the sleeping bag. She wasn't tired. And she didn't think she looked nearly as exhausted as the rest of the contingent. But she'd never been a huge fan of parties, and one was starting to form outside. Part of her wondered if she could just zap her tent a few hundred meters away and see if anyone noticed.
She shrugged her pack off of her shoulder and reminded herself she no longer had to think in the false identity. She unzipped the bright green down jacket that was too warm and far too bright for her tastes, but required for keeping up appearances. It would draw far too much attention to her if she'd spent the days in jeans and a shirt, as much as she would have preferred to do so.
She dug around in her pack until she felt the familiar foil sensation. She lifted out the monstrosity of an American breakfast treat. She ripped open the foil and frowned down at the white pastry with white icing adorned with tiny decorative sugar pellets. She'd hoped for cookies and cream, but wound up with raspberry instead.
Oh well, it didn't matter. She ate the first of the two pastries in the package and realized that it was obvious why Americans were so fat. Then again, the only American in their group, and the man who recommended the pastries to her, was far and away the fittest person on the mountain. So maybe she was being overly critical. Still, the processed sugar took a while to get used to.
In fact, she wouldn't even be willing to say she was used to it. She still didn't like the things. But they were a surprisingly efficient source of calories. Even if it was the worst kind of calories.
Still, had it been cookies and cream, she'd have probably eaten both of them.
Instead she lay on top of her sleeping bag and stared at the ceiling in the tent. At camp she had it to herself. Up on the mountain she'd shared with a Kiwi named Jane. The other woman had been skeptical of it at first. Emily couldn't blame her. She'd been very serious. And Emily had no accomplishments to list and little climbing experience to cite.
The start of the trip was filled with all sorts of comments about how they'd be dragging the newbie up the mountain, and how much she must have paid for the pleasure. Or if perhaps it was someone else's pleasure that she was providing.
Karim had defended her. He hadn't even doubted her abilities when she'd cornered him in Kathmandu. He'd seemed to doubt the validity of her permit, which was a fair assessment. But, he'd spent a couple of days in the city helping her gather the required supplies, seeming to have no issue with her surprise appearance.
They'd moved rather slowly up the mountain, she thought. She had little trouble keeping up with the American. Even without strapping the strange mask to her face. They'd told her she was insane for not using it. But it seemed more annoying than helpful so she didn't bother. The American and his companion didn't do it either. She was always one of the first people to the camps every day, often arriving just after the American. And she has no issue helping with any sort of setup or work that needed to be done. Still Karim insisted she go up and down and up and down and up and down far more than some of the others.
She didn't get it. It seemed like a lot of wasted movement. But they insisted on it. And they all did it too. Something about acclimatization. It didn't matter to her. Judging from the rest of them it may have given her a huge advantage.
And it wasn't to say it was easy. It was still a lot of climbing and she was tired most nights. But something about the misery of it all felt great to her. So she embraced it and continued on the next day.
And it only took their first trip to Camp Two for the Kiwi woman to marvel at the fact that she was already making tea in the tent by the time the other woman arrived. Jane had been surprised at how fast she could melt and boil the snow. Emily hadn't bothered to comment that she hadn't used snow. Because gross.
It had been particularly cold on the mountain that day. Emily had, of course, cheated, to be far less bothered by that but the other woman shivered as she huddled around the small stove in the tent. Emily debated warming her with magic, but, at that point, hadn't decided if she liked the other woman or not.
After a dinner of something they insisted was ramen, Jane asked to share the sleeping bag. Emily had stared at her, wondering if there was some code of the mountain that she wasn't aware of. But after a moment Jane showed her how to unfurl the bags into a large blanket, giving them more room and more warmth. They slept next to each other, in most of their climbing gear. Emily spent most of the night wondering how she'd even gotten there.
It was strange, the more she thought about it. It wasn't like Harry or Priya had insisted that she come with them. In fact, they hadn't even really commented one way or another on it. Looking back, she wondered if it was what they'd even wanted.
But despite her presence, they never treated her as a third wheel. Priya, annoyingly, was attentive and not only asked for, but also listened to her opinion. On everything. From lunch to their housing situation to where they should live to what plants she was bothering with in the greenhouse.
She'd assumed, but never really bothered confirming, that Harry's bedwarmer would be intelligent. He didn't tolerate outright stupidity any more than she did. He liked banter, quick thinking, and intelligence. She'd known that by just peering into his mind when he was in school. Unlike a lot of men she'd known, he had no qualms about a woman being more intelligent than him. Hell, it was half the reason she'd thought she could get him into bed with Granger at Hogwarts.
Still, something about the woman surprised her. She was completely accepting of Emily's presence. And somewhere in there, far quicker than Emily would have expected, she found herself with a new best friend.
It was the worst.
The woman was relentless, ever an optimist, and obnoxiously fun. It wasn't hard for her to see why Harry loved the Indian healer. It was a bit annoying to realize she was enjoying her time with them. And that they somehow seemed interested in her company and never made her feel like a third wheel.
They'd shared a room a couple of times during their house hunting. But only when the hotels in question didn't have two to spare. But normally she got a separate one. Sometimes she'd wander out on nights where they were more occupied with themselves.
Surprisingly, sometimes she'd assume they were heading to bed and she'd start outside only to find Priya joining her. Harry would come too, on occasion, but of the two of them she spent more time alone with Priya than with Harry.
She didn't think there was anything deeper to it. Harry seemed intent on giving her space, and Priya seemed intent on being the ultimate wingwoman. They'd go to clubs, or bars, or cafes, and even a concert or two and drink and dance and talk.
She'd quickly learned that after a few drinks Priya loved to talk about sex. And would do so far more openly than Emily would ever dream of. And ask all sorts of needling questions. She learned far more about what Harry liked, what Priya liked, and what Harry wouldn't try, even if Priya asked nicely, than she cared to.
Eventually she'd been forced to admit that her life with Martin had been rather vanilla in comparison. But she'd enjoyed it. And was fine with that. Priya had only raised her brows and sipped a large glass of wine as she stared at the other woman, clearly not believing her.
It had more or less stopped at that point. Priya had no problem objectifying Harry in her presence. And she did it often. Harry would blush, but ignore her. And they'd go about their business.
After her Japanese embarrassed her she'd spent a few days trying to avoid them, feeling like her only real use on their trip wasn't helping. Which was stupid, given that all three of them had lived in Japan for years, and all spoke the language far better than most foreigners. But it still made her feel worthless.
She rectified the feeling by vetting essentially every domicile they could possibly purchase. She'd thrown herself into the work while Harry and Priya looked at sights and enjoyed being a vacationing couple in a foreign land.
They'd been smiley and bright and cheerful when she'd returned with her findings. While it had only been a couple of days without her constant presence, she still had the distinct impression that they'd missed her as she went over the houses she'd found, including the one they would eventually buy.
She found the renovations to be fun. But she'd always enjoyed that type of magic. She'd wanted to do far more with her London home during her marriage, but she also hadn't wanted to creep out her husband more than she did on a regular basis. So she'd refrained. But when she'd created lairs for Lord Voldemort she'd often play with the magic.
Because, frankly, while a dark cave lair that was going to serve more as a staging area for an attack on a town or some other magical mayhem didn't necessarily need a swimming pool, didn't having one make it better in general?
Mostly she did it to show off. Because she could. She liked to think it helped foster the air of invincibility she liked to keep around her. But she was pretty sure they all just thought she was a crazy person.
She'd intentionally picked a bedroom at the new house as far away from theirs as she could to give them a modicum of privacy. It wasn't like they were discreet, she never heard them having sex or anything annoying like that. But she just felt it was best to give them their own space.
And she didn't mind cooking and thought she might enjoy doing it more often now that she had more ample free time, so taking a room by the kitchen sort of made sense to her, in an odd way. Even if it did have the slight effect of making her feel a little bit like a servant. Although they certainly never made her feel like that and never expected her to cook anything.
In fact, more often than not, they expected Harry to cook something. She thought she was better at it than he was. But he wasn't too awful. And, like her, seemed to enjoy doing it. Every so often they'd tag-team a meal. Priya, on the other hand, was hopeless. Emily was fairly sure she'd managed to burn the water they used for tea. She wasn't even sure such a thing was possible, but she'd tasted evidence that suggested it was.
So she'd settled into their little home routine. Not quite sure what exactly she was to the Potters but not finding it that important. They'd decorated the house. She and Harry built the outdoor greenhouse and the basement laboratory. They'd been working on building a grand library with half of the first floor of their home when whimsy had pulled her away from Japan.
She probably should have finished it first, she thought, but nothing in their sleepy little village seemed to move very fast. Well, excluding Suzu after five espressos.
It was something she'd learned to enjoy about the town. She'd never been much of a fan of sitting still or being unproductive. She'd struggled with it even with Martin. She wanted to have something to do, no matter where she was or what she was doing. She'd fill her time with reading or magical experimentation in most cases. Or, with Martin, whatever household errands needed to be done. She just liked to be doing something, regardless of what that something was. The busier she was the less her mind wandered. And the less active her mind was the better it was for anyone near her.
And while that was still the case in Japan, the pressure of actually finishing anything fell away. It wasn't like she needed a specific goal. But she'd always set one for herself. To have something to judge herself against. And, deep down, to have something to insult herself for not reaching. It couldn't have been the healthiest mentality one could acquire, but it had served her for half a century.
In Japan, though, the journey felt more important than the destination. She hated that. She wasn't even sure it fit their culture, either, which seemed to lean toward expecting perfection in a single discipline rather than dithering around. But she didn't feel the need to finish anything. Instead she let herself go wherever her mind would take her.
And one night in early december she came to a very odd realization. One that nearly stopped her in her tracks. One that she didn't think she'd have ever come to again. One that created a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. And disturbed her more than any thought she'd had in this specific life.
She was happy.
It was gross.
She didn't deserve happiness. She needed the misery. She needed to suffer. She needed to live in the darkness that was her own mind. She needed to constantly be reminded of the misery she caused. She needed to see the faces of those she'd hurt and killed. She needed to remember it all.
She'd come to the realization as she was walking back from town with Priya. When the woman first asked her to help at the store she'd almost snapped at her. Priya made a comment about how she had experience and Emily was going to snap that because she worked as an antique dealer did not mean she was going to man a register of a pharmacy.
But Priya continued talking before Emily could, largely because she'd been mid-sip of her hot chocolate on the walk back, and stated she wanted help with the actual clinic part. She couldn't see patients herself, she lacked the required certifications and Priya wouldn't allow that. But she was smart and knew her herbs and potions. It was half the reason that they'd started the greenhouse.
And Emily liked the thought of being useful. So she'd agreed. A sort of odd warmth spread through her as her thoughts shifted to helping the sick and injured. Something that she first attributed to the hot chocolate. But it stayed through the walk home, and into their conversations in the kitchen.
She found herself talking constantly, ideas for the clinic and helping spilling out of her almost faster than her mouth could keep up with them. That was the moment where she realized that she was excited and, dare she admit it, happy.
It was soul crushing.
She'd immediately excused herself, citing that she had too much hot chocolate and ran off to the nearest bathroom. She couldn't remember if Priya said anything. She was too lost in her own head.
Once she made it into the bathroom she spent a couple of minutes staring at herself in the mirror. She hated what she saw. An almost unrecognizable brunette stared back at her. She was pretty, in a girl-next-door sort of way. She had pale skin tinged with a pink flush. Her eyes looked alert, intelligent. She dressed well, but in a way that spoke more to comfort than fashion. Her hair was clean but lacking much style, done up in a messy bun.
There was a brightness behind her eyes that felt far too unfamiliar to her. She could recognize what it was. She'd seen it on the face of her victims often enough. In moments when they thought she might have changed her mind, that she might spare them. She'd suspected her own face had shown it too, before being led into bedrooms of men old enough to be her father. She hadn't seen the glint then, but she suspected it had been there.
Hope.
She sneered at herself in the mirror. It needed to be squashed. She needed to know she didn't deserve it. Nothing about her deserved it. She conjured a small blade and held it between her fingers as she glared at the annoyingly happy woman in the mirror.
It started small, a nick on her wrist. Red droplets falling down onto the white marble counter. She felt nothing as she tore her skin open. The expression in the mirror didn't falter. And her fury at it only grew.
She brought the blade around to her forearm and cut again, and again, and again, each thin slice growing deeper and longer, willing herself to feel anything. Willing herself to win, to beat back the stupid woman in the mirror. The one who deserved nothing except suffering.
She switched arms and continued. Until a banging on the door startled her. I'm fine, she insisted, her voice was weak though, cracking. There was a hesitation, and then the door flew open.
Emily hissed as soon as she saw Priya. The Healer's eyes widened for a moment as Emily's magic grew, ready to hex the woman into oblivion for interrupting her flagellation. The healer said nothing. But in an instant she was on her, she took the blade from her hand and tossed it onto the counter.
Emily knew she fought back. But she was all elbows and Priya, to her surprise, was physically stronger than her. She found herself being sat on the toilet, which seemed to add another layer of embarrassment to her as Priya tended to her wounds and washed away the blood.
The healer didn't say anything while she did it. She didn't call her an idiot, she didn't tell her she should have cut deeper, or in the other direction, or anything remotely helpful. Instead she just cleaned, and then pulled her from the bathroom.
She sat her in the kitchen and brewed a cup of chamomile. After Emily finished it she took her to her bedroom and put her to bed. Sleep came quicker than she would have thought.
In the morning she felt more like an idiot than anything else. She knew what Priya must have thought. But she wanted to punish herself, not kill herself. She'd already tried killing herself and knew it didn't work. But punishment was different. She slipped from her bedroom early, her stomach betraying her embarrassment as she decided she needed food.
But Harry was already up and there. And she didn't want to talk to him about it so instead she ducked into the bathroom intending to clean up her mess. But it was already gone. And her stomach was still furious with her, so she decided she'd have to brave breakfast.
Harry didn't mention a thing. He merely asked her if she wanted scrambled or over-medium eggs. She'd hesitated and he'd decided on scrambled for her. Annoying, really, but once it was in front of her it was fine.
They talked, but their conversation was no different than any other day. And before she was finished he excused himself for a morning jog. Priya emerged moments later, looking exhausted from the night before. Emily didn't have the heart to ask if it was her fault, or Harry's.
But Priya didn't bring it up either. Instead she reiterated the job offer, which Emily agreed to. And then joined her in the greenhouse for a morning of repetitive digging and repotting of some balsam leaves.
It took a few hours before they would talk. Emily couldn't decide if she wanted Priya to say something or not. In the end, they didn't. When they talked it was to complain about the dirt and the worms and the plants and everything else they could think of. But somehow, despite it all, it was fun. And when they walked back to the house to ask Harry what's for dinner, they were both smiling.
She felt both like she won and like she lost. And she wasn't sure what frightened her more. But when she saw the speck of hope in the eye of her reflection, she didn't long to hurt it.
And so the routine continued. And the annoying happy feeling grew with each passing day. And each night, she wondered how she'd ruin it. But somehow, despite herself, she never seemed to.
Not even on the night when she'd gone out to the greenhouse to harvest some Nightbloom leaves for an antipyretic potion. She'd realized part way that she'd forgotten her dragonhide gloves as they'd needed special treatment to avoid any corrosive damage from the blooms. Dragonhide would have probably survived the contact by itself, but given the balm only took a few minutes to apply she figured it was better to be safe than sorry. And she disliked people who didn't take care of their tools. She'd have summoned them, but she wasn't sure if she'd left a door or a window open and didn't feel like cleaning up the mess.
She spun around and walked back to the house. She hopped through the back door and back into the house. She made her way through the halls toward her room when she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.
Harry was sitting on the couch in their main sitting room. It housed all the Magical and Muggle accessories they could want, from a television to a wireless to their vast collection of books and comfortable furniture. It wasn't odd to see him there. They spent a great deal of their freetime there.
What gave her pause, and caused her to sneak against the doorframe and watch, was that Priya knelt before him. Her head bobbing slowly up and down. Her instincts told her to leave them alone. Afterall, it wasn't like she didn't know what they did. But something kept her watching. She decided to flee after he paused for a few moments and then pulled her up for a kiss.
She gathered her gloves and returned to the greenhouse. The images sticking in her mind while she harvested late into the evening. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she hadn't done the same thing before. And it wasn't like she was jealous. She had no real interest in swapping places with Priya, or even Harry, for that matter.
But watching had made her remember something she had long forgotten. And made her long for something she hadn't even quite realized she missed.
She thought of putting herself back out there. She had no real reason not to. She spent a few nights at some of the local hot spots and flirted, somewhat unsuccessfully, with some of the locals. She felt oddly inept and embarrassed at the entire thing. And nothing ever came of it. But she never met someone who she wanted anything to do with. So after a couple of weeks she gave up.
Part of her debated talking about it with Priya. But she never worked up the courage to do it. And before she even quite realized it their first Christmas came around.
She'd made herself scarce. She'd left a present for each of them underneath the tree Harry had conjured and spent the day in her room. Until Priya showed up and pulled her from it. They wound up sitting together on the couch with bad holiday movies on loop on the television while they sipped from some sort of chocolate-caramel liqueur.
They woke up on the floor on the twenty-sixth with headaches so bad it took the three of them to brew a proper cure. And they learned no real lesson as the first of January resulted in an almost identical situation. But it was a fun time. She would freely admit that when asked.
And through it all they grew still closer. It was odd. Almost, she thought, like being married. She'd never had a real roommate, outside of the dormitory mates that she'd largely ignored in school, and she wondered if something similar happened there. It was almost like they were in sync about everything in the house. It was almost strange if she thought about it. But as a whole she didn't.
Sometime around then Harry surprised both of them by making friends with some of the locals. She wasn't sure why it surprised either of them, but it had. He'd run into a group of them while out one night and they'd hit it off after a couple of drinks. And from there it turned into a night or two a week out.
Priya encouraged it. He needed friends, she'd told Emily. And she was glad he had something to do other than stalk around them. It left the two of them alone in the house on occasion. Often they passed the time with wine and books. Including one such night where her world shifted.
Emily was reading through one of Spore's potions books, looking for a clue as to why her wyrmwood wasn't growing at the rate she thought it would. She wasn't having much luck, but she hadn't expected to. She couldn't remember Spore ever specifically mentioning much about the plant in her books, aside from its obvious uses. And it wasn't like it was dying. It just seemed to be growing at about eighty percent the rate she expected. She had nothing better to do so she figured it was worth looking into for at least one night.
Priya, on the other hand, was giggling on the end of the couch.
"What is going on with you?" She'd asked, peering over at the Indian woman in her pajamas.
"This bodice ripper is great," Priya giggled, staring down at her book. Emily sighed and tried to ignore her. But after three more giggles curiosity won out.
"What's it about?" she asked.
"Oh it's nonsense. Some fancy family in the Regency who think they're a lot better than they actually are. But it's great. You should read it when I'm done," Priya said.
"Pass," Emily answered.
"Oh come on, you'd get a kick out of it," Priya said.
"If you insist," Emily responded, keeping her tone disapproving.
"I do. Which is why you'll read it when I'm done," Priya insisted. Emily didn't argue with her. She wouldn't read it. No matter what happened. But if she argued with the healer she might lose, and she wasn't willing to take that chance.
Instead she let Spore's monotonous cataloging of plants fill her mind until it formed the perfect combination with the wine to put her to sleep. She could feel it coming on, but tried to read through it. Afterall, she'd long since learned that there were worse ways to fall asleep than wine and a book.
She woke to a soft brushing feeling against her eyebrow. It was weird, but not entirely unpleasant, even if her first instinct was a bug crawling across her head. She opened her eyes slowly and found herself staring up at Priya.
She'd wound up with her head in the other woman's lap as she read. She must have dozed off and slid over. It was fairly embarrassing that she'd fallen asleep like that. But Priya must have shifted her around for her to wind up how she was.
She made to get up but the soft hand holding her head and caressing her brow felt nice so she paused.
"Sorry," she muttered. Priya shrugged and turned the page of her book. She paused for a moment, Emily assumed finishing a chapter, before dog-earring a page and setting it down on the end table.
"It's fine," Priya said. "You looked tired."
"I am. It's the damn moonflowers," Emily admitted. The slight brushing of her hair soothed her as her eyes grew heavier. She closed them for a moment, relenting against the feeling that she simply wanted to go back to sleep. Despite their name the flowers were best tended to in the early morning hours and secreted a soporific pheromone that tended to linger in the air.
"Sleep in tomorrow. I'll check on them," Priya said.
"You don't have to do that."
"I know, but I'll do it anyway," Priya said.
"Thanks," Emily sighed. She kept her eyes closed and relaxed back into sleep. She wasn't sure how much time passed, probably almost none, before Priya spoke again.
"I think it's time for bed," she said. Emily made a sound that could have been either annoyance or agreement. But once she realized her head was making it more difficult for Priya to rise, she rose to her feet.
"Probably," she agreed, raising her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. Priya stood as well and they walked out of the sitting room. The healer didn't take the stairs up to the master bedroom but instead followed her. She thought it odd, but not enough to warrant anything. Maybe she'd just wanted to fetch something from the kitchen before retiring. But instead of ducking toward that she followed Emily to her room.
Emily felt herself tensing. She could feel something off. Her mind focusing with each step, thoughts of sleep pushed from her head as she considered the woman's actions. Each step closer to the door of her bedroom seemed to take more and more time. But they did finally reach it.
"Good night," Priya smiled, saying the words as if they were the easiest things she'd ever let slip from her mouth. She was being nothing more than her normal, cheery self. Emily froze, wondering what was going on. And then Priya hugged her. And kissed her. Emily felt her eyes widen.
Before she even had time to come up with a comment or a thought or relax in the slightest, Priya let her go. And turned to head off toward the kitchen. Emily blinked after her as she walked away, wondering if she should say something. Wondering what was going on. Wondering why it looked like the woman had an added sway in her step.
She stood there for a solid ten seconds, staring at the now empty hallway. Part of her wanted to follow the woman and ask her what the hell. But was she just being weird? It hadn't been much of anything. And Emily wasn't a hugger. Priya knew that. And the kiss? It was friendly. A peck on the lips. It couldn't have lasted a full second. Why was it lingering in her head so much?
She decided she was being stupid. That was the only explanation that made any sense. It wasn't like Priya was trying for something. That would be even dumber. So it had to just be her being stupid. Reading something into a friendly gesture that purely wasn't there. She shook the thoughts out of her mind, ignored the soft burning on her lips, and went to bed.
Emily ignored Priya for a week after. She said nothing to her. She kept her distance. She even avoided her on the days they worked together. It was difficult, but manageable. If Priya noticed, which, she had to, she wasn't stupid, she didn't make any comment.
She was content to do that for the rest of her days. But then Shoka insisted they all go to a new restaurant opening one night after work. It was a community thing, she'd argued. And her cousins owned it. So she, Priya and Suzu found themselves at the opening.
The food was more basic than Emily would have suspected from a restaurant, and the building small and cramped. Although Priya corrected her with the term intimate and an annoying smile. But it all tasted very good. It warmed her, as did the closeness of the venue, the warm candle light. And the alcohol probably helped some too.
After, a drunk Priya invited half the attendees back to their home for more of a party. A completely sober Harry greeted them, looking rather alarmed by the entire situation, but he'd always been flexible and soon there were drinks and music and dancing and not too long after that hot food.
They danced, they ate, they drank, they talked, they danced some more. It petered out about three in the morning. Harry stayed sober. He was the only one. He helped a few of the locals get home in ways she was sure they wouldn't remember in the morning. When he'd arrived back at the house he found Shoka and Suzu collapsed onto the couch in a mess of limbs.
Emily and Priya had tried to help clean up. But instead they'd bumped into each other and collapsed onto the ground. There'd been some rolling around and jostling maybe even a bite or two before they'd come to rest, with Priya on top of Emily.
It wasn't bad. She was soft and warm and smelled like cherry blossoms. And Emily was tired and frankly she was close enough to a weighted blanket for her alcohol-addled mind. So she closed her eyes and decided she could sleep on the floor that night.
At least until something tried to remove her blanket. She tightened her arms around it and certainly didn't mutter something akin to 'blankie'.
"Can I have my wife back?" Harry asked.
"Mine," Emily said, tightening her arms and attempting to throw a leg around the blanket.
"Babe?" Harry asked.
"Five more minutes," Priya muttered in Hindi.
"Well, I'm going to bed," Harry laughed.
"Night," Emily muttered, mostly to be polite.
"Gimme a kiss," Priya added. But her words were muffled given that her face was buried in Emily's neck. Drunk Emily, though, thought it sounded like a passable idea, as a good night kiss was a pleasant thing, right? So she leaned down and kissed the Indian on the head.
She woke to pain.
"Gods what did you do to me?" Priya asked, still speaking into her neck.
"Suntory shots, I think?" Emily answered. "Why are you yelling?"
"I'm not?" Priya answered. Her voice sounded weak but the pounding in Emily's head didn't care. Emily could only groan.
It took the better part of twenty minutes for them to even make it into the kitchen. Harry had left a hangover potion and a note that he was covering the store that day as the girls also seemed indisposed.
It took Emily a better part of an hour to rouse them and make breakfast. Priya helped by falling asleep on the couch Shoka and Suzu had shared the night before. Emily made it to her bed only after she'd sent the girls on the way back to their homes. After that she went to bed. Although she wasn't sure if the patio furniture usually constituted her bed but whatever. Close enough.
After their drunk evening things returned back to normal between her and Priya. Their friendship continued. They'd go out on nights Harry wasn't around, they'd chat at work, they'd discuss magic and books and anything else they could.
They'd turned Harry's nights out into their own little special times. They'd make dinner, or hit up a restaurant or do whatever flight of fancy struck them. It was the first time since Hogwarts, Emily realized with an odd sort of fascination, that she'd had an actual friend.
Granted, she wasn't ever particularly close with her classmates. And she'd mostly vanished after Hogwarts. She'd been invited to a couple of weddings, she'd even invited classmates to hers. But she'd never gone out of her way to spend time with them. And now, she did.
And she looked forward to it. They'd planned dinners, coordinated reading lists, picked out different wines and anything else they could think of. They even took a couple of small trips mostly to things Harry was less interested in. And mostly about the same time that Harry and his new friends had something corresponding.
It was at one such retreat at a luxury ryokan that Priya, after a couple of drinks, finally shattered the ice. They were talking about things they'd never done or wanted to do. Priya's list included a bunch of insane Muggle things, like jumping out of an airplane or leaving the planet.
Emily'd had to think for a while before she could really come up with something. She wanted to climb a mountain. Priya thought she was nuts. But Emily shrugged it off. She knew she could get to any summit on the planet without much effort with her magical ability. But she wanted to actually physically do it. To prove she could. Both to herself and anyone else. Priya suggested Fuji and Emily agreed, knowing what their next little excursion would be.
It was Priya's turn then. She sipped her wine and stared at Emily as they relaxed in the warm baths. She actually blushed, something the healer didn't do much of and Emily found herself curious for the next confession.
She'd always wanted to try a woman, Priya admitted. Emily tilted her drunk head and shrugged. It wasn't that great, she admitted. And Priya needled her. All she'd managed to come up with in response was that some of the Johns were Janes.
That didn't count, Priya argued. Emily glared at her in a way that usually cowed most people. But it had no effect on Priya. Whether not it was the alcohol or the fact that she was naked in a tub she wasn't sure.
Well it didn't, Priya continued. It wasn't her choice, so it didn't count. Emily's raised brows brought some stammering and some attempts to explain. She understood the other woman's point. Even if she disagreed with it.
Eventually, after some sophistry, she found herself agreeing with Priya Patel. So it shouldn't have surprised her that the woman then asked if she wanted to, you know, on her own terms.
Sober, she would have said no. Sober, she would have raised objections. Sober, it wouldn't have happened. But drunk? Drunk all she could think of was that she hadn't been touched in a way she enjoyed in half a century. So drunk, she agreed.
It wasn't until the morning that the questions came. They were cuddled together in Priya's hotel room when the questions spilled forth. She was silenced with a kiss.
It was just a night of fun. Harry wouldn't care. They'd actually already talked about it. He knew her desires. And Emily didn't owe anyone anything. She wasn't convinced, but holding the other woman felt nice. Not quite as nice as, say, being held by Martin, but something about the primal nature of the physical contact soothed her. And despite any qualms she had, she couldn't bring herself to argue.
Part of her felt lighter. Like she'd cleared some ancient hurdle. Like she was going to start getting better. And so she did the only thing she could. She surrendered to that part of her.
Their relationship didn't change much. The physical aspect happened again, once, when they were at home. After that they went back to being friends. Well, they might have hugged a bit more often than before. But that was it! Usually.
The Emily back in the tent at Makalu wasn't sure who she was fooling. She'd fed a part of her that had been starved for half a century. What happened was more or less what anyone would expect to happen. Except that she did have some discipline.
It wasn't like there was a victim. Harry knew. He teased them about it. And it wasn't like there was any festering jealousy or anything. Emily didn't want to be Priya. Priya didn't want to be Emily. And as far as she knew Harry didn't want to be either of them.
She ate the second Pop-Tart more out of annoyance than hunger and dug back through her pack, pulling out the bodice-ripper Priya gifted her for the trip, the third in a series she would never read. The party at the camp seemed to have begun in earnest but she still didn't feel like joining them. She tried to lose herself in the words. But instead she lost herself in her first mountain.
Harry joined them for Fuji. Had they done any sort of research they'd have known that you didn't climb Fuji in the winter. But they didn't and they did. It was not without incident and various charms being used to obscure themselves from local authorities. And the wind surprised all of them. Harry, being Harry, let it blow him off the mountain, floated what seemed like a thousand meters down while laughing, and then apparted back. He seemed to find the whole thing more of an amusement than a challenge.
She'd used the minimal amount of magic to keep herself alive. Harry and Priya were far more liberal with their abilities, but they had different goals. In the end, it was slow going but they made it to the summit. It was an odd sort of realization to her that making it to the top was really only the halfway point.
They'd made it up and they made it down. As far as Emily had thought, the plan had been to return home after descending. But Priya and Harry dragged her to a hotel in the forest of Kawaguchiko. A late birthday getaway, they called it.
Which was stupid as they'd celebrated her birthday more than she'd wanted them to. But she still found herself with a private onsen and then on a balcony with a view of the mountain and their own private fire pit.
They'd found food while she'd enjoyed the water. It sat under a magical dome, arranged around the fire pit. So they ate, they drank, they giggled about their own stupidity of attempting a winter climb on the mountain and following Harry's modus operandi.
Emily enjoyed the company but she found herself zoning out as the night went on. Images of bigger mountains and other challenges filling her head. She could do them, she thought. Maybe she should do them. Just because. It would give her something to do. Some goal to attain. Some challenge to pursue. Another goal she could quite literally stomp away beneath her feet.
She liked the thought of it. And so she decided she would do it. Her mind raced, formulating strategies, goals and figuring out a plan of attack. She focused on it until a pair of soft lips met hers.
It brought her back to reality, she blinked a few times, kissing the woman back on instinct. Priya shifted onto her lap and lifted her head away and smirked toward the chair where Harry sat.
"I win," she said.
"What did I miss?" Emily asked. She felt her skin flush with what she hoped, but doubted, was embarrassment.
"We thought we'd lost you," Harry teased.
"Couldn't get your attention," Priya chuckled. "I think Harry's solution was going to be to throw a dumpling at you."
"Might have worked," Emily shrugged. She noticed Harry watching her. She looked away from him, then away from Priya. For a moment or two the only noise on the balcony was the soft crackle of the firepit. Priya shifted so she was sitting across her lap and resumed drinking her wine. Emily brought her gaze back up and noticed Harry was still staring at her.
"What?" she asked. His expression was thoughtful, his lips pressed together. He tilted his head to the side.
"It's stupid," he said.
"We know," Priya answered as she brought her wine to her lips and finished the glass.
"I wasn't sure how I'd feel," he admitted. Emily raised her brows and turned her gaze to the obvious mastermind. Who actually looked surprised.
"You said," Priya started, her brows furrowing.
"I know," Harry smiled his reassuring smile and held up his hands almost as if surrendering. "Because logically I knew it didn't bother me that much. But I still wasn't sure how I'd feel actually seeing it."
"Well you're not supposed to watch. You're supposed to join in," Priya said, glaring at her husband.
"Excuse me?" Emily asked.
"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged, but he rose to his feet.
"Excuse me!?" Emily asked again, more forcibly.
"Look, Emily," Priya said, shifting to face her. "I know being the youngest of the group must be hard…"
"Oh come on," Emily snorted but Priya only raised her brows. She was, annoyingly, technically correct in terms of her current body. Even the tests they'd run, which while not always the most accurate, had speculated twenty-two for her.
"But you're always pretty wound up. And there's no reason to be," Priya said.
"Speak for yourself," Harry muttered, earning a glare from his wife. Emily didn't respond.
"I know you've been in some bloody awful situations before," Priya said. This did earn her a snort from both Harry and Emily. Priya ignored their criticism of her euphemism and continued. "We're not going to do anything you won't enjoy. But we're also not going to do anything without your permission. Now, do you want us to go? Or do you want us to stay?"
There was the question, Emily thought. And she wasn't sure of the answer. She looked between the two of them, wondering just how far society must have fallen for this to even be a remotely appropriate conversation.
Anger rose in her as she realized they must have planned this for some time. How Priya must have been building up to it. How all of their actions must have been nefarious and fake and only for their own gratifications.
How had she been so naive? So stupid. That wasn't like her. She'd fallen right into it. She liked Priya. She was smart, and fun, and tasted sweet. She enjoyed their conversations. She enjoyed the work they did together. She enjoyed teasing Harry both behind his back and to his fate. She enjoyed their little house, their little store, their little life. And damn it, she'd actually been happy.
But it was only a ruse. Only them looking for their own perverse sexual gratification. She was nothing more than a tool for that. It was fake. All of it. The dinners, the evenings of conversation, the book recommendations, and the work projects. All of it. Fake. She was going to have to destroy them for thinking they could use her.
She felt the curse bubble to her lips and she was more than ready to use it.
Oh shut up, another voice snipped in her head. Her husband's voice mixing with her own. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop looking for more misery in every action. And damn it, stop assuming that no one could like, or love, you without gaining something in return. You're everything you described Priya as. And, despite yourself, you love her, in your own fucked up way. Isn't it far more logical that she, and Harry, could feel the same way?
No. That's stupid. It wasn't.
Of course it was.
Stop being argumentative.
Look, there's two outcomes here. You shut yourself in and tell them to leave. Come morning it's awkward. You all ignore it and everything goes back to how it was once you get home. And you spend the rest of your undoubtedly extremely long life wondering what might have been had you not been too afraid…
Hey! I'm not afraid of anything!
Or you open yourself up and tell them to stay. You have sex. Come morning it's awkward and, worst case, everything goes back to normal when you get home.
And best case? Her own thoughts felt small as she asked herself the question.
You grow closer with two people who actually care for you and take another step on the path of finally realizing that your life has value.
She suppressed a snort at that thought. But she turned her gaze outward and looked at Priya, still sitting in her lap, and Harry, standing near them. Their looks weren't hungry or eager, or conniving. They looked hopeful. Harry smiled at her while Priya nuzzled into her neck. She took a deep breath and mumbled one word.
"Stay."
It had certainly been a more entertaining evening, and morning, and evening, than anything in the novels Priya lent her. It had been slow, fumbling, awkward, there'd been too many limbs to account for, and Harry had been too cautious, too concerned, to start.
She'd ended up liking the cuddling and the giggling and the teasing after the most.
She'd always scoffed at people who thought certain things were good for the soul, and she expected most people that would ever voice such a comment would have been mortified by her actions. But after it all, she felt better. Lighter. Almost whole. It was almost impossible for her to quantify it exactly. In the end, she thought she'd just felt more human.
Even now she wasn't quite sure what their relationship was. She was the obvious third wheel, but it never felt like that. They never discussed the specifics. Instead, they just continued to live.
When she'd told them of her alpinist plans, Harry had even offered to join her, if she thought she'd need company. But when she said she wanted to do it alone he nodded his understanding and they'd both wished her luck.
The slow trudging up the mountain had similar effects on her. Each step seemed to cure her, to a degree. To fill her with something long since gone. It was difficult, back-breaking, exhausting, but with each foot she covered, she felt closer to what she'd always longed to be.
"Knock knock," a voice said outside her tent. Karim pulled the flap over and peered in.
"What's up?" she asked, putting the book down on her sleeping bag and brushing off the crumbled remains of the pop-tart from her jacket.
"You're missing the party," he answered. He'd shaved off most of his beard from Iran. She'd barely recognized him in Kathmandu. He looked more at home here, in the snowy mountains, than he had in his village. He offered a brown bottle of beer to her. She took it and took a swig.
"I'm not much of a party girl," she said. She didn't know if it was true. She'd avoided them, sure. But going to them in Japan with her budding girlfriends had been rather fun. And she looked forward to doing it more when she returned.
"Doesn't matter," Karim said. "It's bad luck to not celebrate a summit."
"Is it now?" she asked.
"You don't want to anger the Gods after they let you walk on their mountain," Karim smiled. "Then again with the way the Sherpas talk about you…"
"They talk about me?" Emily asked. As far as she could tell they avoided her.
"The mysterious English lady that showed up out of nowhere and speaks their language? Yes, half of them want you, half of them are scared to death of you and half of them think you're Takar Dolsangma herself out on a field trip," Karim said.
"That's three halves," Emily countered.
"Column C contains a little bit of A and B," Karim laughed.
"They think I'm a Goddess?" she teased.
"You aren't?" Karim laughed.
"Depends on who's asking," she said. Karim's lips curled up into a smile and he sipped from his beer.
"You should really join the party. You accomplished a great thing here. Something many cannot do. You should celebrate it," he said. She felt the tinge of jealousy in his voice. She'd passed him on her way down, struggling toward the summit. He'd made it. But it had taken him, with oxygen, longer than her. She knew he didn't understand it. She knew it confused him, and infuriated him. She knew how he wondered just how she could make it look easy.
Part of her longed to tell him. When she'd tracked him down to Kathmandu before the expedition he'd laughed at her. He couldn't bring her. She'd die. And he would not be responsible for that.
She'd needled though. And he'd relent slowly. The permits were impossible, well she had her own. The supplies would be a nightmare, well she'd pay for all of it. She didn't even have the equipment, she'd get anything he required. When that didn't work she said something that stopped him in his tracks.
She'd fund his expeditions for five years. No questions asked. He didn't believe her. She could tell that much. But the money never ran out. She'd promised to listen on the mountain. And she had. She'd learned quickly, she'd obeyed, and she'd climbed. The curiosity turned into a marvel and then a recluse once back to camp.
"I will," she said. She dug out a pen and a notebook. "I just want to journal a bit while it's still fresh."
"Okay," Karim said. He gave her another warm smile before he ducked away from her tent. "Don't take too long."
"Hey Karim?" she asked as he left.
"Yes?"
"What's next?" she asked. He paused and turned back around to look at her. He stared for a moment and then chuckled, shaking his head. He turned his gaze toward the summit and then back to her.
"I still need to bag Lhotse," he said. She'd caught up with him on the day his permitting plan had fallen through. "The American gave me a fairly good idea of a two-fer with Lhotse and Everest."
"The Yak Trail?" she teased. Karim smiled again.
"Required for all fourteen," he repeated her words from months earlier.
"Sounds fun," she said. She tore a page from the notebook, feeling the magic fade from it as she did. She scratched the fake Seiyo mailing address they used onto it and handed it to him. "I'm in. Just write to me about the details."
"Here I thought you'd want to go home."
"K2's not going anywhere," she responded with a wink. If her knowledge of the aforementioned Goddess surprised him, he didn't show it.
"I'll work on the details. Remember to join in the party," Karim answered before doing just as he'd advised. Emily watched him go, a new sense of purpose filling her. She climbed one eight-thousander. There were thirteen others to do. And now she knew she could do it. But could she do two in one season? There was only one way to find out.
She flipped the notebook open and saw the previously scrawled messages and responses. She tapped the pen against the paper for a few moments before the words came to her. Priya had insisted on it. She'd claimed that she wanted to see how magic could be used to combat things like HACE. That seemed like an excuse to Emily as the solution was obviously simple. You'd combate HACE with more oxygen. Magic gave a very easy and efficient means to provide it.
But they used the notebook to gossip, to talk, to be friends.
Made it up and down! No edema. Minimal magic used, mostly for o2. Condition seems normal. Sherpas think I'm a Goddess. What if they're right? I'll add more about the trip tomorrow but Karim is scolding me for being a recluse so I'll have to join in the party. Honestly, I'm ready for the end. I miss my plants. I miss my bed. I miss you. I miss Harry. If he asks, the order is important. Love. E.
She closed the book and tucked it back into her pack. She'd intended to pack up that night and start the trek back. She could have apparated. But she wanted the full experience. She'd only cheat where she had to. She'd get back to Kathmandu herself and worry about it from there.
But for now something was happening outside her tent. A celebration of an accomplishment many of the billions of the people on the planet would never do. And, frankly, thought was stupid. Even she had to admit the majority may have been right. But she'd accomplished it.
And, she thought, it seemed like it was about time for her to join in with what everyone else called life.
Author's Note: As always thanks for reading and reviewing. I do appreciate all of the support I receive. If you would like to support me further I am available on PAT RE ON at TE7Writes. There are currently 3 additional CTS chapters over there as well as the first seven (or eight, I forget) chapters of my next fanfic featuring Harry and Daphne.
Thanks again!