April 9, 1998

The forest was beautiful, lush and green even as the world grew darker around me. The light fading from the world as day turned into evening. The birdsong became the threatening call of owls and the evening croaks of the crows above filled this space of the world with a quiet ambiance. was as beautiful as what I had left behind, but it was colder, as if the frigid fall had broken this space of spring and summer. Caressing it with the frosty grasp of a slow coming winter.

Clunk!

I turned towards the noise.

There was nothing there.

Thump!

A crow fell from the tree above me almost landing on my head.

A rancid stench filled the air, wafting up from the crow's corpse at my feet, causing me to stagger away from the consuming smell.

More crows fell from the sky, hitting branches of the trees as they fell, a symphony of breaking branches and soft thuds to the earth below.

Before I could will myself to run – the maggots and rapid decay of the crow in front of me made me turn away from the horrible sight- mindless with the terror and presence of death before me.

In front of me was something unspeakable.

It had been waiting behind me like a spectre – as if it had been following me from the time I arrived.

It seemed to struggle to hold its shape in my eyes. All darkness and unnatural shapes that finally made sense as it peered down into my eyes, the empty hollow holes where the eyes should have been consuming all of my attention.

The creature had the skull of a crow for a head, like a helmet or a mask, there was something... human beneath. The deer antlers that emerged from its skull were covered in scraps of moss of all shapes and lengths that made it appear is if it had woken up in a bed of moss after sleeping there long enough for the moss to grow over it like a blanket and now there were only remnants in its antlers as the black, molting feathers drifted to the earth below, carried away but the stream or disappearing in black smoke as they touched the forest floor. There was human flesh peeking out from beneath the gaps in the feathers.

No words could pass my lips.

I was frozen at this terrible creature before me.

It was both unspeakably ancient and unbearably young, but reeked of newly overturned earth and a stink I instinctively knew to be of rot and decay that overpowered me for the sudden reek of it.

The thin skeletal hand reached towards me, the bones gleaming in the slivers of light that broke through the trees.

Before I could protest or move away, its mouth under the bone skull moved awkwardly, as if it were stuck together, sewn shut with thread or a spell I could not see.

The creature suddenly wrenched its mouth open. Feathers, bile and blood spewed to the earth below as if the creature's mouth had been torn asunder. Ripping through the cheeks in a disgusting mockery of humanity.

The terrible scream that followed brought me to my knees.

My eyes flew open as I jolted awake, the primal raging scream of the creature still ringing through my ears as the living room came into focus around me. I must have fallen asleep. Normally this dream did not bother me outside of the bedroom. I leaned back in the chair to catch my breath. I really must be tired.

Why was I being haunted this way? Even as the details and memory faded away, I knew there was something I could not place, something missing and something... disturbing about my nightmares. I knew the world of the dreams felt sick, wrong and displaced from the natural world and its own sense of order.

I needed to distract myself until the sense of it faded.

Nightmares meant nothing. It was a figment of my stress, that was all it was.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the strange galleon that had belonged to Colin Creevey. I had long found it strange that a boy would leave money behind, but there was something off about this coin and it had become a mystery I could sit in the flat and ponder. If Colin left it for me, he must have trusted me, but with what? What was I holding and what made this coin so special?

I examined the edges where the serial numbers were for the coin. They were a bit strange, I was not familiar with these number codes, Goblin codes usually started with thirteen – per the brief overview of economic history I took at school as part of my History of Magic course. I noticed the same practice here with different ending numbers. Thirteen marked the coins as real goblin coinage, the second number pair marked the coin maker as an individual, the rest were circulation numbers and the last two number detonated the year of make. This one had a year of 1998... We rescued Colin in 1997. How did he have a brand-new galleon that was not even in circulation yet?

The galleon was heavy and cold as I spun it between my fingers in thought. It slipped from my grasp and rolled under the sofa. I made a disgruntled noise as I got to my knees to look for it. I reached around blindly until I touched something metallic and hot, it was not a burning hot, just the high end of warm that sent a tingling sensation of magic up my arm.

I pulled away, pulling the galleon out with me as I examined it closely. The coin was different. The numbers were different. The last six digits looked like today's date...

Then the words appeared, just for a moment beneath the crest of the galleon.

Safe - G.W.

The words faded back as quickly as they had appeared as the coin cooled in my hands.

A communication method? That's an excellent bit of magic!

Colin left this for me to know what's going on. I've cracked the code. I wonder if I can send my own message? But I did not want to alert the other coin holders that someone had a hold of something so valuable. I would ruminate on this tomorrow with a fresh mind.

I put the coin back in my pocket and stood up to go look out the window. Watching my neighbors was a part of my routine now. I knew when the No-Maj neighbors would come out and walk their dogs or garden in the plant pots they hung outside their windows. I could look out, but they could not see me due to the spells that had been placed on the windows.

There was Old Mister Thomson on his daily walk, I did not think that was his name, but that was what I called him, was a kind-eyed man with a wife and son, but also had a collection of dark secrets. There were bodies buried in the fields of Yorkshire to attest to his secrets and the truth of his nature. Heh, that was good, I should write that down.

That nice young couple down the road are illicit lovers, forbidden to each other by their families. They're meeting in public and holding hands in disguise for even a few minutes of enjoyment of the other.

The homeless man is a war veteran who can't quite move on from the conflict. Watched by memories of...

I turned around, the feeling something watching me prickling at my neck as the hair stood on end.

There was nothing behind me. I was alone in the flat aside from Hermes who was staring off in the same direction I was, all fluffy indigence at something I could not see.

"Do you see something?" My voice was a low whisper as I glanced over at the owl before looking back to the spot where I felt the force of the stare.

There was no response from Hermes, he shifted on his perch, moving further back to the second higher one behind him, away from his fresh water and treats.

I pulled my wand out of my pocket, trying to revel the presence of something with every charm in my arsenal. There was nothing. Just a sense of my own paranoia. I pocketed my wand, perhaps I had frightened myself? Maybe Hermes had picked up on that?

I returned to cleaning the mantle, dusting around the fireplace and removing the ash that had accrued and collected in the corners around the fireplace.

My days with only the company of my own mind and Hermes were probably not healthy in the long term in regards to a life in hiding. I needed to go outside. Take a walk. Talk to people other than Percy and maybe quit having longwinded conversations with Hermes over his fashion preferences. I thought he would look lovely in a little felt bowler hat, he seemed to have a heart for piracy and pillaging. There was a compromise here if I could ever figure out how to actually make a nice hat out of something other than paper.

Percy seemed to think I was losing my mind, but to his credit he was not going to say as much to my face. Instead, he brought home some craft supplies that he had gotten from the Waldropes, Susanna had taken up knitting when all of her friends started having babies and decided that knitting baby booties and blankets for them was the perfect sort of gift. She was kind enough to provide Percy a book of crafts and basic supplies to try and keep me sane. Sanity was really a matter of prospective.

I made a very nice chain today at some point, I was not sure what was in my capabilities yet regarding a project I could truly sink myself into.

'...salus...'

I froze, whipping around to observe the room again. It was still empty except for myself and Hermes.

I was tired. I was bored. I was stressed. That had to be it! That's all this was.

I finished with the mantle and dropped into my chair to look out across the room, weary of my own feelings of being watched and my own paranoia. I was going to keep rewriting my journal and reheat the leftovers from last night's dinner or reheat the soup from the other day. It was hard to feed two people at times and we tried to stagger the leftovers a bit.

It was easier to spend a pleasant hour recounting Percy and I's first kiss in Lucinda's garden and everything that followed that event involving the awkwardness and our discussion at the pub. It's awkward admitting to starting a secret workplace relationship. We were clearly insane and probably still are.

The clock chimed five times to mark the hour. Percy should be back in thirty minutes.

I rose from the chair to put my journal away, Percy would not invade my privacy that way, but it was one of the old rules of writing, hide the thing and work on it only in the strictest privacy afforded to you. Never let it be seen by another's eyes because one's brain is a stupid, messy sort of place and putting it out there in ink for the world to see is an insane decision. I hid the journal in the usual drawer I used for my private records and returned to the kitchen to set the table and cut a few vegetables as a side. I was bad at the chopping and simmering of vegetables and massacred two tomatoes with a knife as if it was a bloody scene from a novel. I grew more convinced by the day I was not housewife material.

I glanced at the clock.

Percy was late.

I shifted my attention from the kitchen to cast more cleaning spells in the already spruced living room to deal with the fact he was late.

Thank Merlin Percy could cook, I could keep us alive but the man knew how to make good food – which seemed more important in the grand scheme of the situation.

I had already run out of things to do in the flat today, now I was just trying to keep my hands busy while I waited in silly, repetitive things that could leave a body near insane from the repetitively of it.

There was a talk a couple of days ago, I had told Percy that if his family was going to disappear, it would be when his sister returned from Hogwarts for the holidays. Arthur had not reached out to Percy, if he had wanted to, he may have correctly assumed it would put Percy in more danger during the interim. It was something we both agreed on, even if Percy seemed despondent over the matter.

When the clock struck six, I picked up a book of Percy's he left out in a living room side table and started thumbing through it, settling on a random page to start trying to read. I did not care about the content, the plot or the important character things, I needed the distraction of someone explaining this terrible crime scene of what I was sure was the third murder in this book. It was a stabbing. I wondered if I could ever have the opportunity to stab Umbridge? It was very No-Maj, but sometimes spells did not fill the void of rage some people inspired. I may have to ask Annette about some of her recent interests, whatever form those may take these days.

I was beginning to think Percy needed to go into hiding as well, but we could not make that decision until after the rest of the Weasleys were well away. It would add to the view that Percy was well and truly disowned and estranged, protecting the pair of us in some minimal capacity if we were captured... In truth, it would most likely be no help to us, but there had to be something in that lack of communication. I was doing my best to pull something positive to motivate him to leave when the time came, but I was not sure it was helpful.

The pages before me were being read, but I read the same pages four times and retained nothing. Sometimes he was kept late. I knew this. Why was I nervous? Nothing was going to happen to him.

I ignored the feeling of eyes upon me as Hermes made a noise from his perch.

My toe was bouncing on the floor hard enough to rock me as a physical manifestation of my nerves, the chair squeaked and creaked, a think that usually annoyed me when it happened in rapid succession, but the noise faded quickly to a white noise in the background the way the radio did when I was listening to music during my daily manic cleaning.

The clock struck seven.

Percy was supposed to be home at five thirty; six thirty at the latest.

I got up from the chair to pace for a few minutes like a nervous dog waiting for a treat if I wanted to be facetious and funny about the situation.

Was he just held up?

Was he dead?

If he gets killed, I'll never recover from it. Should that occur, I had decided to die a spinster with a cottage in the woods that had an unusually large garden and make tiny hats for local birds. That seemed both sad and eccentric – really a fitting ending to our tragic love affair.

The clock kept ticking on the mantle and I thought I was going to be sick from the anxiety as I dropped back into my chair and wondered if I should go out to try and find him.

There was a horrible thud and scraping noise at the door, as if something had fallen against it, causing me to jump once again and run to the door. My hands coming to rest on the doorknob as the scratching mixed with pained groans. I took a deep breath to collect myself – the noises were human, but I really hoped it was just the neighbor's dog.

I must be losing my mind.

"Who is it?"

There was a pained noise from beneath the doorknob, muffled by the thick wood of the door. "Percy... Weasley."

I froze, barely stopping my hands from turning the doorknob to fling the door open and see him.

"Who...-"

"Audrey!" My name sprung from me quickly. Your Audrey! "What sort of coffee do I buy from the market?"

"Brazilian. Ground... Expensive..."

I was not going to comment on that right now.

"What's the... tea I don't like...?"

"The Butterbeer flavored one I bought for you for Valentine's Day!"

I flung the door open and Percy was sitting on the ground, slumped against the wall and half fell into the flat when the door opened. I almost tripped over him in my rush to get to him.

"Natharia's tongue!"

"Who's that?" Percy groaned as he tried to get to get feet, an awkward coordination of limbs and pained expressions. There was no time to take in his appearance, I was quickly reaching down to help him to his feet to stagger into flat. I kicked the door closed, almost falling over from the sudden, limp weight of him and the way his legs seemed to give out under his weight when he tried to support himself on his own.

"What happened?" It was less of a question and more of an exclamation. I was sure I already knew, but the clarification would tell me where to direct the brunt of my ire.

"Held up at work," Percy muttered as I steered him away from the couch and towards the bedroom. Once he laid down, I was not convinced he would be up again for some time.

I managed to get him to the bedroom and into bed, only crashing into the wall a couple of times during the process. Percy dropped to the bed like a sack and I immediately started trying to help him out of his robes and unbuttoning his shirt. I helped him undo the remaining cuffs and put his cufflinks on the bedside table for the moment as I ignored Percy's feeble efforts to try and take my hands to still them – there were red stains on his white button down... My hands stilled of their own accord as I finally got his shirt off.

Cruciatus did not leave physical marks, the wounds were internal, a tense tightening and squeezing of the muscles overlaid with an intense pain that made one feel a level of incomprehensible pain. He was covered in half healed cuts and now that he was sitting still in the light of the room, I could see a bruise beginning to form on the side of his face.

"Percy. Explain."

I felt him take a deep breath under my hands as I traced on of the cuts near his collarbone. I could see another on his shoulder and took his face in my hands to examine the forming bruise under his left eye. I pressed my lips to his forehead as his hands moved to grasp at my hips and pull me closer to him in an act of comfort. He was trying to distract me – I was sure I knew what had happened, but I needed to hear it from him.

I said his name again, quietly into his hair and breathing him in as the moments slowed, the way Percy's warm, feint breaths tickled my neck, the way the wire rims of his glasses pressed against my skin. I moved away, to look into his eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Please talk to me."

"Yaxley." Percy started slowly, tracing my hipbones with his thumbs as I quietly checked his injuries with my own hands, trying to figure out which potions we would need for treatment. "He thought I knew where my family went."

One of my hands moved up to his neck in search of anything I had missed, the heat of his skin offered me comfort as he continued to speak with halting pauses.

"Kept me there for hours... Took me ages to get out of the Ministry." His thumbs were tracing the top of my skirt.

"I should get you some medicine."

His grip on my hips tightened, a clear reluctance to let me go.

"I'll just be a minute." I looked down at him, taking in the sheer exhaustion and dark circles under his eyes. "Do you want me to help you first?"

Percy nodded slowly, he began to speak a senseless sort of chatter where his rampaging thoughts had to leave his head and exit his mouth through whatever means necessary.

"I'm happy they left, but..." He trailed off for a moment, letting the other thoughts take over. "I'm not sure why Yaxley would think I knew anything, if I did, I would be gone too. I think the bleeding stopped, so the bed won't get stained-"

It would not be the first time someone had bled in this bed, but I kept that comment to myself. Percy being persnickety was a bit more normal than this situation was and I was content to let him continue on. There was probably a way to get his pants off while he laid in bed, but Percy was conscious and as fidgety as he could manage under the circumstances.

"Up." I held out my hands to help him to his feet, Percy seemed slightly confused until my hands went to the front of his pants to start undoing the button.

Percy chuckled breathlessly, "I'm not sure now's the time for that."

"It's not." I tilted my head and rested my head on his hand for a moment as I peered up at him, a coy smile tugging at my mouth. "You need to lay down and rest." My hands started loosening his pants and sliding them slightly down his hips, one of his hands moved down to help in the effort, getting them down far enough so he could sit back down while I took another appraising look at his collected injuries so I could be sure I brought the right things. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Percy nodded, "Promise..."

He sounded exhausted.

When I was out of the room, I was finally able to let my hands shake and tremble, letting the sensations of fear and anxiety run loose within my body for a few moments. If I panicked now, I could better help Percy. He did not need to see me breaking down. One of us had to be a pillar and it was my turn to do that.

Just keep it together Audrey, you have no other choice. Be strong now, and you can have a nice breakdown in the office later.

The potion vials were cool in my hands, all full of a thick liquid that would help heal the skin and muscles. I pulled a blood replenishing potion and a painkiller potion, I did not think Percy had lost a lot of blood from his experience, but half a vial of this would help perk him up a bit (meaning put some color back in his face) alongside the painkiller potion to help the inflammation from the torture curse.

Why were we now experts in post-torture treatment?

Truly we were in possession of cursed knowledge.

I returned to the bedroom, holding the medication and putting them on Percy's bedside table. He was laying on the bed in his underwear, looking half asleep and somehow finding the energy and strength of will to make sure his head was on the pillow and kick off his socks (those were getting thin – another thing we had put on the back of the broom in recent months). I picked up the vial with the potion for the bruise on his face, setting it aside while I organized the other vials buy time they would need to be retaken.

I sat down on the bed next to him, reaching my hand up to brush a few fiery strands of hair from his forehead. He still had his glasses on, I reached over to gently remove them and put them next to the potion vials. I sighed and took a moment to look at the structure of his face. The nice cheekbones, angular jaw and the slight slope of his long nose. Percy was handsome, he was just slightly off-putting to people who did not understand him very well. I put a dollop of the thick potion on my fingers and reached over to rub it gently onto the darkening bruise on his face, allowing myself a satisfied grin as it began to fade in the moments that followed.

"I can do that," Percy mumbled, causing me to jump in surprise.

"No, you could barely get your socks off." I looked down at the foot of the bed where his socks were resting in a very un-Percy fashion at the foot of the bed, all balled up and sad looking. I started dabbing the potion on Percy's closed wounds on his chest and shoulder, leaning down to brush my lips against his forehead. "Do you want to get under the covers at all?"

"I was not sure I would the first time."

Understandable.

"I'll get you a blanket and something to eat."

"Thank you."

When Percy was fully tended too and sleeping, I managed to find my way to the office to have a good cry.

Author's Note: Hm. I'm open to theories about what's going on here folks.

I've got a new job. I start the 3rd and I'll look for something I want to do in the meantime since it's evening shift. Which may mean moving, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.