Chapter Five: Hearts
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Daniyel did not see the Patronus. Instead, it hovered just beyond the protective enchantments on the windows of his Camden Town flat. He had thrown them up hastily, just after she'd knocked on his window, her hair a wild tangle.
"I have a front door, you know," he had said, easing open the window and appraising her as she hovered before him, her robes rippling in the slight breeze. She was a vision, her light auburn hair glinting in the last rays of the setting sun, the red deeper than ever. The color lured him in more than he dared admit. Still in her Quidditch things. The sight of her nearly left him breathless.
She grinned. "What fun is that? We're having a secret, mysterious, romantic tryst. Walking in through the front door seems so… blasé. I thought I'd spice things up a bit."
"I don't reckon it'll be so secret if the Muggles see you outside my window," he said in amusement, casting a casual glance about the street below. No one appeared to be giving them a second thought. "They may decide to damn us as witches and warlocks and burn us at the stake. Would that spice things up enough, d'you reckon?"
"I suppose," she said, still grinning. "Are you going to let me in, or what?"
"I suppose," he echoed, with an air of resignation, and he stood back and allowed Fiona Creevey to soar through the window and into his flat.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear as she abandoned her broom and stepped closer to him, engulfing him with the fresh scent of wind and the slightest hint of wine, which explained the broom, at least. "I cast an Invisibility charm before I flew over. They couldn't see…"
And then her lips had closed around his and he wrapped his arms around her, and they were kissing as fiercely as if they hadn't kissed since last Tuesday. Which they hadn't.
They broke apart for air briefly as they stumbled to Daniyel's bed, Fiona tugging at the zipper of his sweatshirt as they went, and he had hurriedly raised his wand and called out, "Clauditis Locus!" and a shimmering white sphere burst outward from his wand, fading into the air as it grew around them.
"What's that for?" she gasped, brushing her soft lips against his jaw. The bedframe seemed to appear behind them, as if out of thin air, and Daniyel stumbled slightly before collapsing backwards onto it, Fiona atop him. She laughed in surprise.
"Just making sure another girl doesn't fly in here," he teased, grinning.
"How many girls are you expecting?"
"Round five, I reckon…"
"Oh, very funny!" she said, laughing, and brought her lips back to his.
And then they lost themselves in each other, burning skin pressing together, until the vision of her hovering outside his window, looking for a moment so much like Ginny Weasley that it cut, was nothing but a distant memory.
It was the third time he had seen Fiona. He had met her two weeks past, when he had dropped by the Ministry to grab lunch with Harry and Ron. They had hurtled past him towards the lifts, their robes flying in a frenzy, as he'd walked down the hall to their office. Some sort of Auror emergency, apparently.
He felt a slight pang as he watched them pile into the lift along with Ernie Macmillan, Rose Zeller, and two younger Aurors he didn't know by name. The slightest twinge of regret. But then the gate rattled shut, the lift whisking them out of sight, and he had run into Fiona on level four on his way back down to the Atrium. She had been in the midst of a passionate argument — with her boss, no less — about some hippogriff named Feathers. She had whirled around and stalked off in a huff toward him afterward and nearly knocked him flat. Which, of course, left him with no reasonable alternative but to ask her out to lunch.
He still wasn't sure why she had agreed, but lunch was an enjoyable enough affair. They had gone to a small pub in central London, where she had questioned him about everything from his previous Muggle life, to the battle at Shadow Hogwarts, to his current career path — all topics he skillfully avoided. He, on the other hand, asked her about Feathers ("Oh, he's a hippogriff we're rehabilitating, but he's become the mascot of our team. And now my boss wants to enter him in some ridiculous race and ride him to boot!"), and her family ("Oh yes, I'm muggleborn, but I have two wizard brothers. Yep, Colin and Dennis. Well, actually, I did some research into my mother's side, and it turns out she was a squib! Dropped off at a Muggle orphanage when she was a baby. She's actually got Black blood, would you believe it? Of course the Blacks would have never stood for a squib child, so it was all very hushed up. But maybe I should change my name to Fiona Black just to piss them off, d'you reckon that's a good idea? Might offend Dad, though. I haven't told them about this, you see."), and finally her hobbies ("Oh, I like playing a bit of Quidditch. I'm in a league, actually. With my coworkers!).
Lunch had led to After Lunch, because Fiona insisted there was no way she was returning to work because her boss was "an insufferable fool who needs to be force-fed vomit-flavored Every Flavor Beans."
He had seen Fiona one other time since, prior to today — an evening involving so much wine and firewhisky that he barely remembered it. It had been quite an impressive feat, for a Tuesday. And tonight, he enjoyed her company all the more, unexpected as it was. Fiona was a nice girl. He preferred her to both Stacy and Olivia, whom he also saw on occasion. He wasn't sure if it was her fun personality; or her unceasing love for Quidditch, despite the fact that she was utterly terrible at it; or her auburn hair, which looked nearly red if the light caught it in just the right way… or if it was simply that all these things reminded him of Ginny.
And Ginny, even after nearly a decade, was still the one that got away.
And, guilty as he felt while his lips were pressed against Fiona's and his hands were working their way across her breasts, he couldn't stop his mind from conjuring an image of Ginny, her face filling his mind. He wondered, as he threw himself wholeheartedly into Fiona's arms and tried to focus only on the here and now, what it would take to finally leave her behind.
But it was hard. For it had always been easy with Ginny — complicated to define the edges, perhaps, but when there was nothing between them but skin, it was as simple as breathing. If she was the one who had turned up outside his window, he was sure they could have picked up exactly where they'd left off, after those blissful two months at Hogwarts — as if everything in between had never happened.
Not the breakup, clean as it was. Not the long years apart, where Ginny had been scooped up by the Holyhead Harpies reserve team almost before she had stepped off the Hogwarts grounds at graduation.
"Phenomenal!" the recruiter, a tall asian witch with red streaks in her high ponytail, had said as she approached Ginny with Madam Hooch while they all stood in a huddle by the lake, chatting enthusiastically about the ceremony.
"Miss Weasley, I'm Sora Takahashi with the Holyhead Harpies. I saw you play in your last match against Ravenclaw in May. You were phenomenal."
"Hi!" Ginny had said, staring at Sora in stunned surprise and momentarily struggling to find words — a rare occasion for her, from Daniyel's experience. "T–thank you!"
Sora stuck out her hand, and Ginny hurried to grasp it, nearly dropping her diploma in the process.
"Rolanda tells me you have an interest in professional Quidditch," Sora said confidently. "How would you like to play for the Harpies?"
"I'd love that!" Ginny nearly squeaked, gaping at Sora as if she were some kind of magical apparition. Daniyel had the impression that Ginny dearly wanted to poke her to make sure she was real, but was exhibiting an unusual amount of self-restraint.
"Sorry for the suddenness, Miss Weasley," Madam Hooch said, barely able to contain her smile as she appraised Ginny. "This has been in the works for a little while, but I didn't want to get your hopes up until everything was set in stone and there was an offer on the table. But you're one of the most promising players I've seen in recent years, young lady, and we're all so excited you want to play professionally."
At this, she gave Harry a pointed look and he let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh and wound his arm tighter around Ella's waist, having just turned down Madam Hooch's multiple offers to introduce him to several recruiters the year before.
"Why don't we take a walk and talk about the Harpies?" Sora suggested.
"Sure!" Ginny gave them all a huge grin, shoved her diploma at Daniyel and, ignoring Mrs. Weasley who was looking a bit resigned about the whole thing, hurried off with Sora and Madam Hooch, trying to keep from bouncing as she walked.
Daniyel watched her go with a slightly bittersweet air.
"Don't worry," Ella had said, optimistically, "you'll still see her."
Unfortunately, that proved easier to say than to actually do. Their plans of a summer together had quickly fallen by the wayside, and by the end of the following week Ginny had vanished to Holyhead, in the heart of Wales, where she became so entrenched in the Harpies training camp that Daniyel often went days on end without hearing a word, much less seeing her. To fill his Ginny-free hours, he dedicated the summer to studying with Ella and Robert instead, as they all worked hard to catch up with the coursework.
"Do you think this is still working?" he asked her pointedly late in the evening at the end of July, as they walked together toward the Shrieking Shack. Ginny had shown up in the waning hours of Harry's (and, to an extent, Daniyel's) shared birthday party in the Three Broomsticks after nearly a week of radio silence, apologizing profusely as she deposited a box full of slightly-smooshed cupcakes on the table before them all ("So sorry, team practice ran late. We have a game tomorrow night!").
Ginny sighed, drawing to a halt and looking at him seriously. The wind tugged at her hair, letting it play around her shoulders. He pushed a strand of it out of her face.
"I like you more than anything…" she said.
"But you want to focus on Quidditch, and I'm not done with school, and you don't really have time for a relationship," Daniyel finished.
She didn't say anything, her eyes barely discernible in the shadows.
"It's OK," Daniyel added. As much as the words hurt, he had already resolved himself to say them. Had been practicing them for days. "We don't have to do this right now, if it's not the right time. Maybe… maybe some time later, after I graduate and you're more settled with the team, we can try again."
"I don't want to break up with you on your birthday," she mumbled.
He let out a slight laugh. "It's OK, it's not really my birthday. You know, because of the time jump thing. I've been nineteen for nearly six months already." He realized he was rambling slightly, but he didn't seem to be able to stop. "I think I'm just going to start celebrating it in December..."
"Still," Ginny said, biting her lip.
"In fact," Daniyel continued, "it's nearly midnight anyway, so it's really not any kind of birthday anymore."
"Dan," she said quietly, and he broke off, his eyes searching for hers in the near darkness.
"We'll still be friends, won't we?" Her voice sounded so small and unsure, quite unlike herself.
"Of course," he said firmly, drawing her into his arms and dropping his chin on her shoulder. "We'll always be friends, Gin."
And this proclamation, at least, proved true. Friends they remained when, a year later, Ginny fell for a twenty-five year old sports broadcaster on the Wizarding Wireless Network when the Harpies spent three months on a Euro-Asia tour. And one year after that, when the relationship fell to pieces, Daniyel was there — showing up at her Holyhead dorm with two overstuffed paper bags of Burger King, ready to drag her out of the dark until the smile he had come to love found its rightful place upon her lips again. And she was there to return the favor when he decided, after two years at the Auror Academy, that he had had enough.
"I just don't think it's for me," he had admitted truthfully as Ginny perched on the edge of his fire escape, her feet dangling above the busy street below. "I don't know that I fancy Auror-ing."
She laughed as he handed her a Hard Butterbeer, and he stepped out onto the fire escape and dropped down to sit beside her. They watched the lights of Camden glow to life below them in silence. Muggles hurried through the settling dusk, seeking out friendship, or love, or perhaps a bit of drink and excitement. Things that he and Ginny had in spades already, or so he thought.
"You should do something that makes you happy," she said.
"Like Quidditch does for you?"
"Exactly," she said with a grin, taking a sip of her Butterbeer.
"Maybe I should give Quidditch a go then."
"I'd wipe the field with you if you ever play against me."
He didn't doubt it for a second.
So, since his residual acting funds provided the security of freedom, after officially bidding farewell to the Auror training program, he experimented his way through a multitude of careers like a lost millennial, trying his hand at everything from curse-beaking, to apprenticing with Ollivander at his shop, to magizoology, before joining a magical stage production that put on plays for wizards and Muggles alike.
"Good plan," Ginny had said, grinning, when she showed up in his dressing room with a bouquet of broomstick twigs after his first show. "Play to your strengths!"
"Always," he said, and then, because she was standing there looking as radiant as a midnight sun, he stepped forward and brought his lips to hers, the feel of her entirely new after so many years apart and yet inescapably familiar.
She kept her lips upon his for just a moment before pulling away.
"What are you doing?"
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I just, I thought…"
She glanced away, carefully placing the twig bouquet down on the table. Her hands seemed to linger on it for just a moment too long. The silence was heavy, pressing down on him.
"You know," Ginny said slowly, finally meeting his eyes, the layers of amber in her irises pulling him in, "you're my best friend. You're probably the most important person to me."
"So are you…"
"I don't know," she added, "if I'm ready for that to change. I don't want to lose what we have."
He felt his world shatter a little bit at those words. It had been nearly eight years since they had broken up, and he had spent so much of that time waiting, still, hoping.
"I don't think we could ever lose what we have, Ginny," he said. "We've been down this road before. We came out stronger than ever."
"I know." She sighed, reaching out to take his hand. He squeezed her fingers, wishing he could hold on, not ever let go.
"But maybe it's better," she added softly, "if we just stay friends. For now."
"Ginny," he whispered. "I can't wait for you forever."
Her hand jerked slightly in his. An involuntary shudder. "I know," she mumbled. "I know."
"I love you," Daniyel said, cupping her cheek, staring deep into her eyes. "I'm in love with you, Ginny. But if you turn me down now, I can't wait for you anymore. If we can't make a go of it, then I need to move on."
She seemed frozen, her eyes seeking his out. Silently, she flung her arms around him, her chin falling on his shoulder. He hugged her back, inhaling the flowery scent of her. The faint aroma of broomstick polish. Cementing it in his memory because he was sure that this, finally, was the end.
She drew back at last, her "I'm sorry" barely more than a whisper as it brushed against his ears, not quite drowning out the soft sound of her footsteps as she slipped out the door. And out of his life.
And nearly two years later, he was still trying to forget her. In the arms of Fiona. Of Stacy. Of Olivia. Of the cute girls who waited backstage after his shows, willing to throw themselves into his arms. Anything and anyone who could fill the hole Ginny had left behind… because nothing else could have shattered their friendship so effectively.
One day, he hoped he could build it back.
So he didn't see the Patronus, not until the early morning hours when he stumbled sleepily from his bed and threw open the window, and three silver otters and one terrier all burst in at once, Ron and Hermione's voices mixing into a cacophony of barely discernible phrases — "Ministry explosion" and " 's" and "Robert" ringing clearly among them.
He could not remember the last time the bottom of his stomach had dropped out so fast, the happiness of the previous night hurriedly escaping through the gaping hole it left behind.
Ella stumbled slightly on arrival back at their flat, and Harry reached out and grabbed her arm, steadying her.
"You all right?"
She nodded, biting her lip. Snowy wound his way out from under the couch and rubbed against her legs affectionately. She bent down to pet him.
"Did you miss me, mister?"
He purred. Ella reached over to pick him up before she remembered that she wasn't supposed to lift anything heavy. With a sigh, she gave him one last pat and then proceeded towards their bedroom.
The sight of the deconstructed crib spread out across their bed froze her in her tracks. Every single plank, every bolt, every screw seemed to stab her right in the heart. She inhaled sharply, forcing back the tears. When had she become this person who cried like a bloody fountain? Was this all it took to change the entire makeup of who she was? Not Voldemort, or even giving up Harry, but her bloody uterus?
"Shit, El, I'm so sorry." Abruptly, the crib and all its pieces vanished. She turned around to find Harry behind her, his face shrouded in guilt.
"It's fine," she said. She considered asking him whether he had vanished it permanently, or just moved it, but the question seemed to require too much energy. What did it matter, in the end? The thought of a family seemed so far away now, it didn't even feel real. She moved further into the room, reaching for the cabinet where they kept the first aid kit and sorting through the potions until she found one for pain relief. She contemplated it, drumming her fingers against the vial, but decided against it. It was probably best not to mix it with the Muggle medicine, not until she talked to Hannah. Who knew what interactions there could be — as Eliza was prone to saying. With a sigh, she gulped down a Tylenol instead and then turned to Harry.
"I'm going to grab a shower, and then can we go see Rob?"
"All right," Harry said, eyeing her with concern.
"I'm fine," she said again, answering the unspoken question. "They said there'd be some residual pain. It's nothing. See you in a bit."
She closed the door behind her with a soft snap then leaned against it, scrunching up her face against the weight of everything as it threatened to rush out and overwhelm her.
"Muffliato," she whispered. She just needed a moment; a place to fall apart; a way to lighten this load. The tears weighed more than she could carry.
She let the shower wash it all away, the water streaming across the dried salt on her cheeks, mixing with the scarlet tears of her empty womb. Carrying her pain away to some distant corner of the underground, until all she could see was the unblemished white porcelain of the tub.
When she stepped out of the steam, the only scars that remained were buried on the inside.
They used the Floo to access the main visitor entrance of St. Mungo's, which expelled them into a bustling reception area. They bypassed the long line waiting for the Welcome Witch, and Harry led her along the first floor and into the Nugent Potts Ward, where they spotted a familiar figure emerging from a door halfway down the hall.
"Harry, Ella!" Daniyel said as he glanced in their direction. "You're back. We couldn't reach you since yesterday morning. Robards' been looking for you, Harry. Apparently."
"Sorry," Harry said, his hand squeezing Ella's. "It was a bit mad over there as well. Any changes with Rob?"
"Physically he's fine," Daniyel said, lowering his voice as his face settled into a frown, "but he hasn't really said much since telling Hermione what's happened. The Healers think he might be in shock..."
"It's not surprising, I suppose," Ella said quietly. "Losing so many of his coworkers like that all at once... It's horrible." She crossed her arms across her chest, shuddering, and wondered if the world would ever stop falling apart.
"The Ministry is still out of bounds for most everyone," Daniyel added.
"I reckon it might be a while," Harry said. "It was... hellish down there."
"I heard," Daniyel said. "Ron and Hermione are back there now. The Aurors are assisting Catastrophes with the restoration effort, and Hermione's with Kingsley... dealing with the victims' families."
"Shit," Harry said, looking down. His hand closed tighter around Ella's. She squeezed his fingers back, then pulled her hand from his grasp.
"You should go, Harry," she said softly. "I'm going to check on Rob. I can meet you at home."
"What? No, I'm not leaving," he said, turning to her.
"Of course you are. They need your help, and there's not much you can do here. I'll have a go, though."
Harry frowned, but refrained from commenting further.
"I reckon he'll be happy to see you, Ells," Daniyel said.
"See you later, husband," Ella said, infusing her voice with brightness, and slipped into the room. She didn't think she would keep this from Daniyel — didn't even think she could — but she couldn't bear to open her mouth and let it out just then — not in this empty hallway full of doors, and wounds, and breaking. She had packed it all away neatly behind a wall in her mind. The night, she knew, would be harder. But for now, Robert needed her, and that was enough.
He was staring vaguely at the ceiling as she approached and didn't react at the sound of her footsteps.
"Hey," she said softly.
He didn't turn his head, but she caught the flash of blue as his eyes flickered in her direction.
"It's me," she said. "Ella."
"I know." His voice was hoarse.
She plopped down into a chair by the bed and glanced around the room, marveling at the similarities between St. Mungo's and Charing Cross. Muggles… Wizards… in the end they were all the same. She had just walked out of one hospital and straight into another, and the only difference was which side of the bed she was sitting on. She wasn't sure whether this made her want to laugh or cry.
"How are you doing?" she asked Robert instead.
"Oh, you know. Excellent."
"Tell me about it," she agreed.
His eyes flickered in her direction again. "What's wrong?"
"I should be asking you that."
"Well I'm asking you," he said, his tone painfully flat. "Go on…"
"It's nothing exciting," she said glumly. "You always worry about everyone but yourself. Dan says you've barely spoken since it happened..."
He shrugged, his shoulders brushing against his pillow. "Talking doesn't always make it easier."
The words felt truer than she cared to admit. But they also didn't feel like Robert, and that concerned her.
"You've always been big into talking about it and letting out your feelings," she said quietly. "Remember all the times you tried to make me talk, when I was trying to get over Harry?"
"Sure," he said. "But you didn't get over him, did you?" His voice cracked slightly.
She thought about it, her eyes drifting to the window. Robert's room was at the front of the building, and it overlooked the busy Muggle street below. Shoppers scurried across the sidewalk like ants, laden down with bags and packages. They all had a place to go; somewhere or someone to return to.
"I think I did," she said slowly. "Or I would've… with time. I didn't think I'd ever see him again, you know."
"And if you hadn't? You'd be all right with that?"
"I dunno." She shrugged. "I suppose I'd have to be, wouldn't I? What else... would I have done?" It was a phrase Daniyel had said so often in the past, it brought her up a bit short. She lapsed into thought, glancing at the closed door. It would be what Daniyel would say to her now, if she told him. Just keep on walking, Ells. What else can you do? She could almost hear his voice through the solid metal of the door, speaking the words.
"That's true," Robert whispered. His eyes returned to the ceiling, and the silence grew again, slowly filling out the room, seeping into the cracks that they were trying to stitch together. It weighed heavily on her. She felt like she was breathing it in — this silent grief. It was too solid. She spoke softly, her voice chipping away at its edges.
"I spent my weekend in a hospital room too."
He glanced up at that, a spark of concern bringing his eyes to life. "What happened?"
"It's—" She took a shuddering breath. "Well… Harry and I decided it was, you know, time for babies… but apparently I can only get pregnant with a tumor."
He stared at her, his mouth opening and closing once in silence, as if considering a question but deciding against it.
She supposed he was going to need a little more, so she took a deep breath and launched into the story. The trip to Muggle London, and Harry leaving. The blood. Waking up in hospital with Harry in the corner, sadder than she'd ever seen him. And then the doctor coming in, the conversation… everything. When she finished, she stared at her hands, afraid to meet his eyes.
"Shit, Ella," he murmured. "I'm so sorry. That's horrible. And they said you can't do anything but wait?" She shook her head in silence. "And what about the Healers here? Can they help?"
"I had an appointment with Hannah for tomorrow morning," she said. "Before all this happened. You know, Hannah Abbott? She's a Healer. I'm going to keep it, see what she says."
"That's good," Robert said. He reached out and squeezed her hand. "It'll be all right, Ella. It may seem dark, but I know you can walk past this."
"I hope so," she whispered. "I just keep thinking the worst, I can't seem to stop. It all just keeps — it just keeps playing on repeat. The blood. What the doctor said."
"I know," he mumbled. "Me too."
She grew silent, her eyes searching out his in the emptiness of the room. The blue layers within them seemed to be shimmering, on the verge of breaking apart.
"I let them all down," Robert said, staring at the ceiling once more. "They're all dead… because of me."
"No," she said forcefully, shaking her head. "It's not your fault, Rob."
"It is," he whispered. "My magic's never been that strong. If I was better, maybe it would've made a difference. But I couldn't even block a Diffindo. I was useless."
"You didn't expect it," she reasoned. "The curse could've hit anybody."
"Maybe," he allowed. "But it hit me, and that was all it took. I could barely see straight after that." Ella watched, her breath catching in her throat as he continued, his eyes still on the ceiling. "We were in the Death Chamber by then, and they ran out. Saul was in pursuit. Kevin was trying to stop the bleeding…" He drew in a shaky breath. "We heard them, right before it happened. Saul was screaming, 'Don't do it! It's volatile! If that door bursts the whole building could go down!' And then there was a loud blast… and then this sound…" He paused, shuddering. "It was… the saddest thing I've ever heard. This voiceless keening. Like a heart breaking. It cut right through you. And this flash of white. It burned across your eyes. And everything started to shake. It was like… have you ever felt an earthquake?"
She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together.
"Maybe it was like that," he said softly. "Like being trapped in the heart of one… It was like the walls were just collapsing in on themselves, everything was falling apart. There was this force exploding through everything. And Kevin, he could've run, right then. The protective wards had clearly been shattered. He could've Disapparated. There was a moment, just before the archway fell."
"But he stayed?" Ella whispered, when Robert lapsed into silence.
"I told him to run," Robert gasped, tears trailing, now, down the contours of his cheeks. "I told him to… but then the archway started to fall, and he… tried to stop it. But you can't block the veil. You can't block death." His voice broke, the words fading to silence. Ella waited. The only sound in the room seemed to be the frantic beating of her heart.
"The last thing I remember," Robert whispered finally, "was the veil draping around him… Like a child hiding in a curtain. But this"— his voice broke —"this game you can't win. Hiding there… is forever."
Ella squeezed his fingers gently, trying to keep her hand from shaking.
"He saved you," she murmured.
"He shouldn't have."
She squeezed his hand tighter, not sure what to say. "Don't say that," she finally managed. "Don't. It was the last thing he chose to do. Don't say it was for nothing. He — he wanted to save you."
"He saved me," Robert said softly, and tears shimmered in his eyes. "But how do I keep going… when he's gone?"