Chapter 19 - Sometimes life is a rollercoaster.
December 23, 2005
Deirdre woke up and yawned, stretching her paws toward the fireplace before standing to stretch her back and legs. She peered at the little clock on the mantle and saw it was early, just past six. Gareth was still asleep, stretched out over both of their blankets. He'd been asleep since midmorning the day before, his body finally able to start recovering from everything he'd been through. His sleep had been completely peaceful, with only the occasional movement or soft sounds that accompanied normal dreaming. Deirdre had woken up mid-afternoon, and decided to just stick close by for as long as he slept. She'd gone in and out of her wolf form and used the rest of the afternoon and evening to do laundry and make some phone calls arranging for someone to pick up the presents she'd already bought and bring them to New York along with more of her winter clothes. What she'd brought for Peru would be entirely unsuitable.
The professors did much the same, packing up their books and the detritus of their potion making. Remus spent a good long time on the phone with his wife and then Sirius. And Deirdre suspected that Professor Snape and Professor Price had gone for a walk on the beach once the sky had cleared and the stars had all come out. And now it was morning on the day they were to travel to New York. She'd never been to the reservation, though most of the Americans went back to the States at least once a year, and she'd been invited more than once. But she'd never really felt comfortable going; she thought she'd ought to leave Gareth one place that was just his.
"Morning," Remus called softly from the stairs.
Deirdre transformed back, pushing her hair out of her face. "Morning," she said.
He came into the room and cocked his head, running a hand over his mustache as he studied Gareth. "Poor lad really needed that," he sighed, then turned to look at her. "You've hardly been out of this room. Why don't you get cleaned up and changed. I can stay until he wakes up."
She felt her face grow warm, and glanced over at Gareth still asleep. The simple fact was that she wanted to be here when he woke up. She wanted to watch him wake up and see that she was there and…well, she wasn't sure what happened after that. Maybe there would be some look in his eyes, maybe a smile, but something, something to indicate she wasn't completely mad to think they could start over. "Oh, I can stay," she said in a rush. "Besides I need to…" She looked around for some excuse, but Remus was already smiling and shaking his head.
"I'll go and put the kettle on then," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "But our appointment at the apparation centre is for noon, so don't let him sleep too much longer. He still as to pack."
Deirdre grabbed her little notebook from the coffee table and sat back down beside Gareth. Only a few glowing embers cast a feeble warmth from the fireplace, so Deirdre grabbed an edge of one of the blankets and pulled it up to wrap around her shoulders. She flipped open the book and looked over her to do list, making sure she had laundered and packed everything she would need. Professor Snape had contacted Ramón yesterday to ask for a ride to the apparation centre, and Deirdre asked him to also pass on the information that Gareth would be out of town for a few days, and could he arrange for someone to come use the rest of the food Maria had loaded into the refrigerator. And she'd planned to cast an eye over all the rooms before they left and make sure beds and towels and things were tidied up.
The werewolf stretched out beside her shifted and sniffed, eyes still closed, before curling up and pressing against her leg. Deirdre smiled. Maybe it wasn't a special look in his eyes, but the half asleep sniffing to make sure she was still nearby was something. She tapped his head gently with her pen. "I'm afraid you need to wake up," she murmured.
Gareth stretched his forelegs out in front of him and yawned, pink tongue curling up to almost touch his nose, and blinked his large yellow eyes at her. She chuckled and nudged him with her knee. "Go on now, you've slept the day and night away. And now you have to pack so we can leave for New York."
He transformed so fast he almost fell over. "I can't have slept that long!" he exclaimed, as he knelt beside her, looking toward the front windows in astonishment.
She followed his gaze to the grey morning light clearly evident outside. "You did," she shrugged. "Best thing for you, really. You'd hardly slept all week. Our apparation appointment is at noon, so we still have time to clean up and pack."
He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. "Haven't you packed yet? You can't have slept as long as I did?"
Deirdre felt her face flush, that dratted sign that she was flustered, no matter how stoic the rest of her appeared, and she looked down at her lap. "I…I did some laundry, but…" She chanced a glance at his face. And there it was, an intense gleam blazing in those beautiful blue eyes, a look that told her all those complicated hopeful feelings inside of her were swirling around in him too. "I thought I'd better stick close, just in case…" Her words fumbled to a whispered stop.
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He swallowed, looked away, ran his hands restlessly over his knees, and looked back at her. "Thank you," he said in a low voice. "I'm glad you're coming to New York."
She smiled and resisted the urge to touch him, to grab his hand or cup his cheek. This whole thing felt very new and fragile, and she didn't want to push too fast or hold back too long. It was like walking a balance beam. "It will be fun to see where you grew up."
Gareth got a funny look on his face at that, and one side of his mouth turned up just a bit. "Yeah. I can't wait to show you around." He stood and offered her a hand up. "First I need food and coffee. Then I'll deal with a shower and packing."
This close to Christmas Day the apparation centre in Lima was swarming with people coming into and leaving from Peru, raucous voices of friends calling cheerfully, mothers sharply corralling children in the crowd, and tearful greetings of grandparents all whirled and eddied around each other. Deirdre adjusted her rucksack on her shoulders as they all waited in line for their paperwork to be checked and stamped. It wasn't the least bit like the hundreds of times she'd done side-along apparations in England. Within a country it was highly unlikely that you and another wizard would be trying to land in the same place at the same moment. But regulating travel between countries was far trickier. International travel was coordinated down to the second, magic clocks around the world all in sync with each other, as hundreds of people were shuttled to and from, customs officials in red robes and conical hats shouting continuous instructions. People were placed on individual pads, and when your time was called, you had to go immediately, because within a minute another wizard from somewhere else would be landing on your pad. It rather reminded Deirdre of watching old Star Trek episodes, where the crew was beamed up from and onto planets.
The customs official she handed her paperwork to looked over it, frowned and began speaking in rapid-fire Spanish to another official. Deirdre looked over at Gareth to see if he'd noticed, but he was several paces away speaking with someone about the pile of presents he was trying to get cleared so he could shrink them down and add them to his bag. The second official, a fat man with beady eyes under his tall, pointed hat, took her paperwork from the first man and then glared at her. He pointed a chubby finger in her direction and began talking at her, fast and angrily. The first official, standing beside the fat man grew pale and turned around, waving and calling for someone.
A woman approached in the same red uniform, but with a gold badge of some kind, listened to the fat man's splutter, then turned towards Deirdre. "I'm afraid there is a problem with your reservation. We do not permit no-mágicos to use apparation sites during our busiest days, you will have to schedule a flight on an aerolínia no-magíca."
Deirdre didn't know what to do. Gareth was busy, Remus and Professor Price were already through customs and waiting near the apparation pads. Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen. She looked around frantically, trying to stay calm. You aren't alone. No one is going to apparate out of Peru and leave you behind in a place where you can't speak the language and don't have enough money to buy a plane ticket. Even if all those things happen, someone would notice before too long and handle it. But the pep talk wasn't helping. Her breathing was too shallow and there was a sick feeling in her stomach. The clamour of voices around her became fuzzy. "I'm sorry," she said, stammering slightly. "I'm afraid I don't—"
A sharp voice beside her cut in, and Deirdre jumped, the voice spitting out a stream of Spanish just as angry as the official. Professor Snape stood beside her in a three-piece suit, cloak draped over his arm and a satchel clasped in his hand. The woman responded in a tone that even Deirdre could tell was condescending, and then Deirdre would had sworn the temperature in the room dropped. Professor Snape grew very still and the angry tirade was replaced by cold, precise statements, his tone regal, and the woman offered frigid replies. The incident was attracting the attention of all the people around them, and Gareth finally noticed and came over, placing an arm around her shoulder and listening intently to the exchange for about half a minute before he pulled out his paperwork and shoved it under the woman's nose. His own voice and tone matched Professor Snape's, cold and haughty, the voices of men accustomed to being obeyed. Deirdre was at once both impressed and uneasy. This was a side of Gareth she hadn't seen in action, the baron of industry, a man with money and power at his disposal.
The woman's eyebrows arched to the brim of her red hat as she looked at the paperwork, and she pursed her lips. Whatever she said next was both conciliatory and resentful. Gareth and Professor Snape each gave a stiff nod, then Gareth took back the paperwork and placed an arm around her again, shepherding her through the barrier. A few cheers, some laughter, and a few murmurs rose around them. There was a louder remark from somewhere and then a surprised yelp and more laughter. Deirdre looked back to see Professor Snape standing behind her, his face once more behind that impervious mask. Back on the other side of customs barrier, the fat man began shouting and waving his fist, clutching his face, the crowd around him grumbling, some laughing.
Deirdre was shaking as they approached the small round spot marked on the floor. Gareth held another conversation in that same imperious tone to the official manning the apparation pad. The man raised his eyebrows, then shifted his gaze to look directly at her, his eyes traveling up and down with the hint of a smile. Gareth said something sharp and the man shrugged and waved them forward. With his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, Deirdre closed her eyes and waited for the nauseating, spinning sensation that accompanied side-along apparation.
They landed not two seconds later in an equally loud and crowded customs in New York City. They moved off the pad and into the line to have their paperwork stamped. Gareth went through first as Deirdre tried to compose herself, her stomach churning and limbs trembling from the trip and the ugly incident just a few moments earlier. "Passport please," rasped a woman's voice that reminded Deirdre gratefully of Jane's Bronx accent. At least she could understand this language. She fumbled for her passport and handed it to the woman, who tapped it with her wand, a seal appearing with her entry date underneath. "Enjoy your stay and merry Christmas! Next!" The woman didn't wait for a reply, just moved on to the next person. So on and so forth the crowd was shuttled through like the apples on a conveyor belt back at the farm.
Their little band found each other at the entrance to the travel centre, and given the chance to pause, Deirdre sank onto a bench, clutching her rucksack in her arms.
"What happened?" Remus asked Gareth cautiously. "You and Severus look furious and Deirdre looks as if she might pass out."
"Ridiculous, prejudiced people!" Gareth spit out, shaking his head. "I had no idea they still had such stupid regulations."
"Apparently non-magical people are not supposed to use magical travel centres during the busier travel days," Professor Snape explained, his lip curling as if he'd bitten into a lemon. "Although why it matters, when they still allow minors to travel by side-along apparation, I can not understand."
"Because there's nothing to understand," Gareth snorted. "The percentage of non-magic people is insignificant compared to the volume of people that travel through Lima on a daily basis. It's merely a leftover regulation from reforms that were passed in the 1960s that were very anti no-mágicos. I remember Oscar talking about it, militarized government, mass disappearances…really ugly time."
"So, were they giving Deirdre a hard time?" Professor Price asked, her voice concerned. She sat beside her on the bench and pressed her hand.
"They were mostly speaking in Spanish, so I don't know what they said," Deirdre answered softly, shaking her head.
Gareth opened his mouth, but Professor Snape gave a sharp shake of his head. She was grateful for it. She didn't really want to know what they'd said, what mocking or vile phrases they'd used to describe her. She'd come face to face with the exact thing she'd feared, she'd been a hindrance, an embarrassment to Gareth. She was certain that his name and position had caused the officials to back down, but he couldn't do that for the rest of his life. Surely he'd come to resent it, resent her. She'd been right to stay away. No matter how the two of them felt about each other, it was doomed. Such a traditional society would never accept someone in his position being with a squib.
Thankfully the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Remus' family, along with Lina and Sirius, from their mini holiday in the Mediterranean. It was several loud and exuberant minutes before the greetings were over, everyone made sure they still had their luggage, and they finally apparated upstate to the little town where they would spend Christmas.
The Northeastern Werewolf Reservation had been closed about seven years earlier. By some strange circumstance, namely Lina Laurent and her hired magical wet work specialists, MCUSA's official records of there ever being a Northeastern Reservation had disappeared. And anyone involved in the management of the facility, as well as anyone they could find who knew about it, somehow had their memories erased. It wasn't the first time she'd pulled off the impossible for this pack of werewolves, and no one was about to ask how she did it. Now, from what Deirdre could tell, the town almost functioned like a hostel or retreat centre. The residents consisted of the two oldest werewolves, Nana and Grams, operating a sort of halfway house for newly healed werewolves. Marcus and Alma, the other werewolves who had stayed behind, had gone back to work for MCUSA once their history had been erased, maneuvering things from the inside to help other werewolves find jobs and housing wherever they decided to settle.
The group of twelve landed in a snowy meadow in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere, the air crisp and cold. Remus' children shouted in delight at the sight of all the snow, only their father's swift spell halting them from flinging themselves directly onto it. Additional spells added warming and weatherproofing to their inadequate clothing. "This way," Gareth directed, stomping through the snow to a large boulder that had been split by a thick tree growing through it. They passed around the tree and through what was clearly a magical barrier. The forest faded away to reveal a sprawling arrangement of small houses and off in the distance a couple larger structures.
Deirdre fell back to the end of the group, trying to take in everything. The houses were small, probably the size of a two up two down in England, but all on one level in a squat sort of box. They were tidy looking, but not opulent. A woman and child stood in front of one, hanging washing on a line in the frigid air. There was a large allotment with a greenhouse beside it, the rows of what had been vegetables now just scraggly brown stalks poking up defiantly through the snow covered ground. From one of the other houses a man came out of an outside cellar door lugging a bushel basket of what looked like potatoes or turnips. He paused to watch their group walk by, a kind smile on his face. Well, that's me well and truly gobsmacked, she thought in wonder and a little shame. All this time she'd envisioned Gareth having this wealthy, pure-blood upbringing. She knew he could cook and do chores without magic, but she'd still carried this assumption that his childhood had been more affluent than hers, that he had no idea what it was to be on the dole, to even wonder if there'd be food in the house when she got home from school. She hadn't expected this at all.
Gareth was beside her all of a sudden, and nudged her gently with his shoulder. "Not quite what you were expecting, is it?" he asked with a smile. She shook her head dumbly. "I don't ever want to minimize what your childhood was like," he continued softly, "but I think we might have more in common than you assumed."
Deirdre looked away from him quickly, afraid the tears that stung her eyes would start to fall. Afraid. She was afraid of so many things. Afraid to open herself up to him and afraid to lose him. Afraid she would never be able to be the sort of partner he needed in his life, and afraid if she didn't try she'd regret it forever.