Chapter Ten: An Icy Dance

.

Six o'clock. That was the time Ella's class usually ended, and yet it was fifteen past, and she had yet to appear on the steps of the Magical Institute. Ella was often what she called "fashionably late" to all sorts of things, so under normal circumstances Daniyel would not have been concerned. But there was nothing normal about this week so, pushing aside thoughts of Ella in horrible scenarios he didn't even want to imagine, he hurried up the steps and slipped inside the building in search of Ella's classroom.

It didn't take him long to find the room, and when he pushed open the door, he spotted Ella sitting in one of the seats in the lecture hall typically reserved for students. He noted with relief that she appeared perfectly all right before glancing at the woman who sat beside her. She was slightly familiar, with a small frame and dark black curls cascading down her shoulders in waves. Daniyel paused on the threshold, trying to sort out where he had seen her before when they glanced up to look at him. Ella's eyes were rather serious, though she shot him a small smile. The other girl had startlingly blue eyes, as dark and deep as an ocean, and they seemed to pull him right in, until he realized they looked just a little too bright. He recognized her then: Ella's student from the memorial service. Though he couldn't quite remember her name.

He stepped further into the hall, heading in their direction.

"Hey," Ella said. "Sorry, were you waiting long? I just stopped to chat with Siggy and lost track of time."

Ahh, Siggy. Yes, he remembered now. Daniyel smiled, catching the girl's eye. She stared at him for just a moment before glancing down at her hands.

"No worries," he said. "Just thought I'd see where you got off to. How was class?"

"It was good," Ella said. "Dan, this is Siggy. One of my students."

"Hi," Daniyel said brightly, offering her a hand. "Dan Bluelake." After a slight hesitation, she shook it. Her hand felt tiny in his, and yet her grip was just as firm as it was soft. There was something about her eyes that drew him in, and he felt his breath momentarily catch in his throat.

"I saw your play once," Siggy said shyly, and her voice danced with a tantalizingly familiar lilt he couldn't quite place. "It was really good."

"Oh, thanks," he said, cocking his head as he tried to sort her out. He suddenly found himself hoping she wasn't one of those fangirls who anxiously waited outside the stage doors for him to emerge. It was something in her accent. Slight but… Eastern European, he was sure of it. Nostalgically familiar.

"I particularly liked the bit where you nearly fell off your broom and dropped the chocolate," she added with a small smile that nearly dried out her eyes. The smile and her rough voice seemed to catapult him back in time, to long afternoons spent poring over fractions in a sunlit kitchen worlds away.

Daniyel grinned. "If you must know," he said, "that only happens in one of every five performances."

She let out an amused breath. "You mean being clumsy isn't in the script?"

"'Fraid not," he said, still grinning.

"Do you really swear like a trooper?" she asked.

"Only when the occasion seriously demands it," Daniyel admitted.

"Right," Ella said, glancing between them with a small frown. "I'm just about ready, Dan. Siggy, er—"

"Of course, Professor," Siggy said quickly, reaching for her bag as she jumped to her feet. "I'll… I'll see you next week. It was nice meeting you, Daniyel."

"Dan," Daniyel said. "Bye, Siggy."

She nodded and slipped between them, hurrying out of the room. Ella waited until she was gone before rounding on Daniyel.

"Seriously? She's my student!"

"What?" Daniyel said. "She's not mine…"

"She just lost her father, she's devastated," Ella said, turning toward the stage to collect her bag. Daniyel hurried after her.

"Right, seems like she could use some cheering up," he said seriously, pausing to wonder if he was just simply attracted to Sad. "D'you reckon she'd go to lunch with me?"

"I don't know," Ella said, sighing.

"Right. I'm going to ask her."

"Fine," she said, sliding her bag over her shoulder. She turned back to face him. "If you must. Where's Rob?"

"Ah," Daniyel said, contemplations of lunch evaporating in a heartbeat as the grin slipped off his face. "He didn't feel like coming out."

Ella looked at him seriously. "How's he doing?"

"Well, he, er—" Daniyel paused. "Well, I dunno if I should say anything, really, but you're loads better at this kind of stuff than me, and…"

"I know about Kevin," Ella said heavily.

"Oh," Daniyel said. "Good."

They paused for a moment, staring at each other in silence. Finally, Ella grabbed his elbow. "C'mon," she said. "Let's see about getting some takeaway and bringing it to Rob's, shall we? D'you think he'd like that?"

"Good plan." Daniyel smiled and let her pull him from the room. Companionship, he suspected, was exactly what Robert needed — probably the only thing that would help him heal, barring time.

And he wasn't the only one. Daniyel had had loads of time — more than he could account for. But today, he realized that for the first time in a long time the presence of Siggy had somehow knocked Ginny's shadow clear from his mind. If only for a moment.

Daniyel had been out to lunch with very, very many women in the past few years. Sometimes, lunch was not even part of the equation. Securing a date was no longer something that caused him any anxiety, and neither did any of the dates themselves. And yet, sitting across from Siggy in the small cafe by Richmond Park on Monday afternoon, he couldn't help but feel oddly nervous.

"What are you studying?" he asked her, continuing their game of Twenty Questions. "You're not getting your degree in Dimensional Travel, are you?"

"No." She smiled and picked up a chip from the shared platter between them, biting into it. "Magical Science. Though Professor Potter's class is probably my favorite."

He laughed. "It's so odd to hear you call Ella 'Professor Potter.' You've no idea."

"I suppose," Siggy said, chewing on the idea. "Oh, can you tell me about where you're from? The Muggle world?"

"Sure," Daniyel said. "It's just like your Muggle world really, but about a decade in the future, so it's 2019 there right now, and…"

Siggy watched him with rapt attention as he carried on, outlining what his life had been like before the switch had happened.

"It's mad," she said, when he was finished. "I still can't believe our world exists in your world, but as a book."

"Dumbledore actually believes that the books don't mirror this world at all. There's quite a few differences, really." He offered her a conspiratorial grin while she looked on with interest. "Supposedly, there's another world similar to this one, that's identical to the story. And probably countless more. They're all connected, though. Probably something Ella will cover by the end of the year."

"Professor Potter's class isn't really about her experiences," Siggy said, her eyes still alight with interest. "It's more broadly about the multiple universes and how they coexist. But yes, she's talked about this. It's fascinating. To find a way to connect them all… Honestly, she's brilliant."

"She is," Daniyel agreed. "So, what about you, Siggy? You're not from here either, right?"

"What," she said, smiling slightly, "did my accent give it away?"

"Just a tad."

"All right, no. I'm from Szymbark. In Poland. We moved here when I was… when I was twelve…" She trailed off, her face darkening slightly, and Daniyel realized her thoughts must have drifted to her dad. If he could have kicked himself, he would have.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean— you don't have to talk about it."

"It's all right," she said, glancing at him with blazing blue eyes. He couldn't help but think that they sparkled like sapphires. Like an entire galaxy. "I don't mind. Really. Mum wanted to come back, so we moved."

"So your mum's British, then?"

"Yeah. Well, Swedish technically, if we're talking backgrounds. We're just a whole melting pot." She laughed softly, her eyes growing wistful. "She went on a Grand Tour after Hogwarts and met Tata — my father, that is — somewhere in Japan. They traveled together for ages. Then she got pregnant with me, and they decided it was best to settle down and all that. Start a proper family. They chose Poland, because of the war here. But she always wanted to come back eventually. More opportunities here, supposedly. And Tata really… really did love working for the Ministry." She drew in a sharp breath and reached for the platter of chips again, focusing intently on the fried pieces of potato.

He placed his hand gently over hers, and she lifted her eyes to meet his again and gave him a small smile.

"Talking about him makes it feel like he's still here, you know," she said quietly. "Like he hasn't gone at all."

"Talk about him all you want," Daniyel said. "I'm here to listen."

She smiled and reached for the chips again. He could hardly blame her; they were nearly as good as the ones at Burger King.

"Fancy a walk in the park?" he asked, when the table was clear and the food had been paid for.

He held out his hand in invitation, and she slipped her fingers through his, her hand soft against his palm, and allowed him to lead her out into the weak winter sunlight.

Richmond Park was a quiet shelter of icy beauty. Snow coated the bare branches of lofty trees like white mantles. They walked down serene paths, seemingly the only two people in the winter garden.

"It's beautiful," Siggy said, her eyes dancing across the snowy landscape. "Reminds me of home a bit."

"Do you miss it?" Daniyel asked.

"Sometimes. But I like it here better."

"Me too," he admitted. "Coming here was amazing, even with… with Voldemort…" He trailed off, his mind skirting through shadows he usually avoided. To fading memories of a blood-soaked courtyard with the details so soothed by time they barely stung anymore. Though thinking about the battle still left him a bit cold. Or maybe it was simply the February chill.

"You helped kill him, didn't you?" Siggy asked quietly. "That's what I've read… You and Harry Potter, and Professor Potter helped of course, though she doesn't talk about it. And the others…"

"Yes." He didn't elaborate. The edges of the memory were too close to the surface now. He was flirting with it, dancing around the parts he didn't want to remember.

"How do you know?" she asked, her voice softer still. "That he won't come back again, like last time?"

"Because, I…" He trailed off, his mind running free now, dipping into the shadowy pools. "I saw him. I know." He remembered the ice now, tearing through Voldemort's thin frame as easily as cloth. The Union had been the defining moment for the war; but for him, it was the memory of the ice that haunted him, that had woken him for years in the dead of night and left him in icy shivers. He drew in a sharp breath and Siggy squeezed his hand.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "It's just that I don't know very much about it. It all happened before we came back. They said it was safe, but…"

"It's safe," he reassured her, turning to look into her eyes, which were wide and staring, the blue more pronounced than ever. "Are you worried because of that Death Eater who's been in the news? Rookwood?"

She said nothing, her eyes still locked on his, though he thought he could sense the fear hiding behind them.

"Believe me," he said, "they're working so hard to track him down. They'll find him, and arrest him, and… and your dad will have justice, at least."

She nodded, biting her lip, and said nothing; blinking back the beginnings of tears. Daniyel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to reassure her with the simple gesture, and she rested her head against him.

"What do you like to do?" he asked, hoping to shift the conversation to happier grounds. "Do you like Quidditch?"

"I used to play when I was little," she said with a sniff, "but not for ages. I've always loved sports, though. We did a lot of ice skating back home… with my sister. That was my favorite. Like flying on your feet."

"That sounds amazing," he said. There was a break in the trees ahead of them, through which London's tallest skyscrapers were peeking through. A little way down the hill, he could see the gray stillness of a small pond. Struck by sudden inspiration, he tugged on her arm.

"C'mon!" he said, pulling her down the snowy slope.

When they reached the edge of the pond, Daniyel crouched down and withdrew his wand, touching its tip to the water.

"What are you doing?" Siggy asked curiously, staring at him.

"Experimenting." He closed his eyes, letting the coldness of winter flow through him until he could feel his whole body thrumming with energy. "Glacies," he said softly, and ice bloomed into being, originating from where his wand touched the water and fanning out across its surface in criss-crossing tendrils, until they stood at the edges of a glistening, frozen pool.

"Oh," she said. "Oh wow."

"Shall we?" he said, smiling, and touched his wand to her boots, silently Transfiguring them into skates.

She stepped out onto the ice as he duplicated the charm on his own shoes, and he joined her, stumbling slightly while she spun easily around. A huge grin lit up her face.

"This is amazing!" she said, the smile seeping into her voice. It seemed to transform her entirely. Even her eyes seemed lighter, somehow. Happier. "Merlin, this is brilliant! Thank you!"

"Anytime," Daniyel said, grinning. He skated carefully in her direction, trying to balance atop the ice.

"Have you done this before?" she asked, laughing.

"Possibly one time."

"Possibly?" She grabbed his arms, drawing him to a careful stop.

"I may've been eight at the time," he admitted sheepishly. "Ella and I tried it over Christmas. But that's Professor Potter to you! Or she'll have my head." He grinned.

"Ha," Siggy said. "I guess you'll need some practice then! Don't push with your toes!"

And she pulled him along behind her, laughing as the wind blew back her hair. Daniyel followed, his sliding steps growing steadier as his feet drew patterns of memory and carved them across the ice. Like riding a bike. Even twenty years later, his body still remembered the motions.

He pulled up beside her, his feet now planted firmly beneath him, and she spun him around in a semi-circle.

"Muscle memory," she said, grinning. "I knew you'd remember."

"Plus, I'm incredibly athletic," he said with a laugh.

"Oh, is that so? Let's see if you can catch me then!" She took off, dropping his hand, and was halfway across the pond before he realized it had happened. He shook his head in amusement and followed her, gaining momentum as he chased her in circles around the pool. Finally, he cut across the center, nearly crashing into her as he slid past and grabbed hold of her arm to draw them both to a halt. The momentum spun them around, both of them laughing, until Daniyel stumbled back and landed arse-down on the ice, pulling Siggy down along with him.

"Shit, sorry," he gasped, pushing her hair out of the way so he could see her face. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." She was giggling still, her eyes flashing as blue as a summer sky. One of her curls stuck to his cheek and he brushed it behind her ear before leaning up and pressing his lips to hers. She kissed him back, her smile so pronounced that he could almost taste it.

Next morning, Daniyel slipped into the Whimsy Theatre for the initial meeting of their summer production — Much Ado About Magick — a silly grin still plastered across his face as he recounted the previous day. They had whiled away the hours, chatting late into the afternoon after abandoning their skates, until they finally parted ways in the falling dusk with promises to meet again.

He simply couldn't get her out of his mind. She was teetering on the edge of despair, he knew that, the loss of her father weighing on her more heavily than he could imagine. And yet, beneath that stinging layer of hurt, her spirit shone like the brightest flame, slowly burning that pain away from the inside. He had seen her smile, heard her laugh, and felt the spark of her curiosity. And now, he wished for nothing more than to grab her hand and lead her back out of the dark.

"Tata is gone," she had said, as they walked slowly back to the entrance of the park, lingering amidst the bare trees as their conversation danced between them. "And all his work… gone. Just one moment can change everything. I've been thinking about it all. How short life can be… and I don't want it to be for nothing. I want to do something that matters. That will matter when I'm gone."

"And you should," he had said. "You're nearly done with school, and then you can go out there and do anything. You can do something that makes a difference. Something world-changing."

"Like getting rid of a Dark wizard?"

"Sure, with all the proper training," he had said lightly.

And he realized, as he sat in his hard wooden chair in a circle upon the stage, staring blankly at the script for a comedy about love and magic, that he had it. All the training. Everything. And he was wasting it — spending his life skipping across careers and relationships like nothing mattered at all.

And it was fear, he knew that. Fear that loomed in the shadows of his memories; that had pushed him out of the Auror Academy when the visions of blood, and spells flying, and broken bodies had grown too heavy. Back then, he couldn't bear to see another battle. Couldn't pretend that being an Auror and doing what was right didn't bear hidden costs. And yet, in his never-ending search for who he was, he had stepped so far off the path of who he had once been, that he nearly forgot what it looked like.

But Siggy was real. Solid. And so was the Ministry. So was the search for Rookwood. And maybe she couldn't get rid of a Dark wizard, but he could. He had been skirting around the edges of it for far too long. He had wanted to be Harry once. And, against all odds, he'd gotten his chance.

So what the bloody hell was he doing?

He stood, the script slipping from his fingers and tumbling to the floor with a soft rustle.

They all stared, looking up at the sudden noise with curious eyes. He glanced at Andre, on the opposite side of the circle, his lucky scarf draped across the arms of his director's chair. Their eyes met. They would talk. Andre, he knew, would understand. Doing the right thing, after all, wasn't always easy.

Not long after, he pushed open the door to the Auror office and found Harry and Ron hovering around a desk, poring over a stack of parchments. They looked up, surprised by his sudden presence. Greeted him in confusion.

"Is everything all right?" Harry asked.

"No," he said. "But I hope it will be. And I want to make sure that it is."

"What d'you mean, mate?" Ron asked, while Harry stared at him, understanding possibly blooming in his eyes.

"The Ministry," Daniyel said. "The search for Rookwood. The investigation. All of it. You're floundering. You need more help... And I want to do it."