Ch.28: The Flashpoint
February 27, 1999
"Harry?"
.
.
.
"Harry."
.
The flutter of heavy wings sounded from the adjacent room.
.
"Harry!"
Startled, the half-blooded wizard dropped the fragile item in his hands, causing it to shatter into a million pieces. Grunting as he stood, he muttered a quick Repario before storming out of living room and into the kitchen. There, Ron stood by the window next to his owl perched on the sill, frantically clutching onto a freshly piece of crumpled parchment.
"Ron, I told you I was in the middle of something—!"
"Have you talked to Hermione?" The redhead prompted abruptly, ignoring him.
"No, I haven't," Harry said tiredly. "I've been trying to study that dark artifact we found—"
"Blimey Harry, you said that two days ago," Ron noted, his eyes finally leaving the parchment in hand and trailing up Harry's raggedy figure before landing on under eye circles. "You look like a dementor snuck into your bed this morning."
"Time might have gotten away from me a bit," the wizard sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses.
"Ginny's gonna kill you, mate," Ron tsked, shaking his head in sympathy.
"That's my problem to sort out, isn't it?" Harry inquired, brushing off the fact that he'd been up all night. And the night before. He often told himself he could handle anything after dealing with a part of Voldemort inside of his head for so long. Though nothing quite compared to the wrath of Ginny when he made less than smart decisions for himself. "Now, you were asking about Hermione?"
"Do you think she's okay?" Auror instincts kicking in, Harry's frown deepened, worry etched across his brow.
"Why? What's the matter?"
"I got a letter from her today," Ron explained, uneasy.
Harry stared at him, waiting for more clarification. "And?"
"She told me happy birthday."
Harry blinked at him, confused.
"As did I when we celebrated with your family yesterday," he explained slowly. It was part of the reason why he felt the need to continue to work beyond normal hours.
"But my birthday isn't for another two days."
"Well we weren't going to celebrate on a weekday. Not with our current work schedule—"
"I know that, I'm talking about Hermione. She's always on time. Don't you think it's odd?"
Harry shrugged.
"Maybe. But I hardly think it's any reason to worry," Harry concluded, standing and heading over to the sink. "I'm sure she's just been busy and wanted to get ahead."
"You'd think she'd have loads of free time with us out of her hair," Ron retorted while following him out of the room, unconvinced.
"Actually, she's made quite the place for herself there," Harry said, sounding slightly strained while grabbing a glass from a cabinet. "You'd know if you actually kept up with her letters."
"Harry," Ron opened seriously, "you don't think she's seeing someone, do you?" The hand holding his filled glass froze just before touching his lips. Lowering the glass slightly, he looked at Ron with narrowed eyes.
"What does it matter if she is?"
Taken aback by his defensive tone, Ron jaw went slack before stammering lamely, "W-well, I just assumed we would've heard about it." Harry sighed, setting down the glass.
"Have you told her who you're seeing, yet?"
"Well, no," Ron stammered, his cheeks turning a bright scarlet. "I haven't even told mum."
"And therein lies the problem."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
In an instant, Ron shrank back into himself.
"I told you, we wanted to keep things quiet."
With an unimpressed expression, Harry deadpanned, "It's your mum and Hermione, Ron. Not the Daily Prophet."
With a grimace, Ron rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "We're kind of still figuring things out." To which, Harry arched a single brow.
"Really? Because I'm fairly certain someone stayed over last night, and the night before." Harry raised a brow when Ron made a choking sound. "What? Did you think I wouldn't notice? Silencing spells only work when they're cast properly, and not during mid-sha—"
"—that's all besides the point!" Mid-sentence, his voice cracked. An unfortunate habit of his whenever he grew nervous.
"I don't think you're giving her enough credit. But I do think the longer you keep this from her, the worse off you'll be," Harry quipped, smirking when Ron displayed a pained expression. "Just be honest with her, Ron. All you have to do is tell her the person you're seeing is—" he broke off, biting back a annoyed groan at hearing his wand vibrate on the coffee table. "Oh, give me a break."
Ron lips tightened into a line, taking slow steps to back out of the room. "I was never here," he said in a hushed tone when Harry prepared to answer.
"Hello, this is Potter," he stated, donning his professional tone.
"Harry, my boy!" Harry's heart skipped a beat when the voice was not one that belonged to his supervisor.
"Oh, er Kingsley, hi!" He exclaimed in a unique combination of surprise and fear.
"Have I caught you at a good time?"
"Yes, we've just finished dinner. My apologies for having to cancel on lunch last week."
"Not at all. Thought I'd check in on you and see how you were. Everything going alright?" The pair of wizards made eye contact from across the room, hesitance communicated through unspoken words. "Before you answer, I thought I'd let you know I spoke with Robards earlier today."
Harry gulped, already bracing himself for more stress to be added to his already overwhelming workload.
"Which is why I wanted personally inform you that you and Mr. Weasley are granted to take the week off." Ron's jaw fell, and Harry could practically feel when his thoughts short-circuited.
"I-I don't...I beg your pardon?"
"While it isn't unusual for entry level Ministry employees to have higher workloads to start, it has come to my understanding that reforming of the Auror department has taken far more effort than I anticipated. I've also talked to Sparrow already and gave her the same offer."
Ron grimaced with guilt when Harry spoke up. "About that, sir, you have to understand—"
"No need to explain. It would seem that after her latest er...altercation with Mr. Weasley, she has expressed her deepest regrets." Ron let out a sigh of relief and Kingsley continued to speak, seeming not to be aware of the presence of the other wizard. "I realize the difficulty in not being able to share the details of your work with your loved ones and I'd like to restate my admiration in your commitment to the Ministry. Once we wrap up this case, we can finally put the damage of the war behind us and I fully intend on giving all Aurors paid leave for several weeks. Rotating over the span of months, of course. Can't give those dark wizards a chance to get away with any more crimes," he chuckled lightly. "I know Robards is grateful for you both, and you have my deepest respect."
"Thank you, sir. We're happy to help in any way we can," Harry affirmed, much to Kingsley's satisfaction.
"Happy to hear it. Well, I won't keep you. Enjoy the week and I'll see you both in the office next Monday."
"Thanks Kingsley." When the line went dead, they let out a sigh of relief in unison.
"Thank Merlin," Ron admitted, shoulders deflating. "For a minute there, I was sure we were getting terminated."
"We?" Harry repeated. "I wasn't the one who set Sparrow off yesterday."
"She's had it out for me since we started!" Exclaimed Ron who started to pace. "I could be on an assignment in another country and she'd still find a way to be set off."
"Well," Harry began carefully, "—you did cause that fire in her office when we took that case with MACUSA—"
"—that was one time, mate. How was I supposed to know that artifact was cursed?"
"We confiscated it from a dark wizard who covered his tracks by burning all the evidence."
"Robards said to drop it off in her office before leaving—"
"—when she was in her office. You left it sitting in the sun on her desk while she was out!"
"We put it out in time," he muttered. "I helped her clean up, didn't I? Her office was a right bloody mess to begin with."
"None of this is getting us anywhere." Harry clamped his hands over his face. "I'm losing sleep over this stupid artifact and we still don't know where it came from."
Ron walked over, peering at the dark object. "Remind me who we confiscated this from."
"Silas Rellpar," Harry answered routinely.
"And we confirmed he wasn't a Death Eater."
"Right."
"Which means he was probably coerced by someone else."
"Yes, that's likely to be the case. We've gone over this a hundred times—"
"I think we should reconsider Borgin and Burkes," Ron cut in, and Harry furrowed his brow.
"We've already checked there."
"After they remodeled it," Ron emphasized. "Surely, they would've tidied it up when Voldemort's followers went down, wouldn't they?"
Harry sighed, massaging his temples. "That's a great theory, Ron. Except I don't know of a single Auror, or friend for that matter, who frequented that store enough to be able to tell if there's a difference." Harry's eyes widened when an idea came to him. "But there is someone we know." At his quizzical expression, he clarified. "You know what they say about creepy shops."
For a solid minute, Ron simply stared. Then, he huffed a exaggerated laugh.
"You're barking," he said stiffly.
"He's our best option."
"I've never been the quickest of our group, but I'd wager he'd sooner throw himself over a tower before helping us. Who's to say he'd tell us the truth, anyways?"
Harry had kept quiet about the tidbits of information Hermione provided. Along with his own limited interaction with the wizard. From what little he'd seen, it was too soon to tell just how much of Malfoy's transition was genuine. From what he gathered, he somehow managed to establish a sort of rapport with his best friend. That, in itself, was a miracle of its own.
"You're right. He probably wouldn't tell us," Harry agreed, hesitating. "But, there is someone else we could—" Before he could finish, Ron was already shaking his head.
"No. Absolutely not," he said firmly. "I won't let you put her in harms way again."
At that, Harry's expression tightened.
"When have I ever put her in harm's way?"
"Have you already forgotten about Sixth when you let her go after him all by herself?"
"She chose to go! What was I supposed to do?"
"Not let her go!" Ron interjected, frowning.
"Have you actually ever tried stopping her from doing something before? I should tell you, it doesn't end well. You could have stopped her, yourself!" Harry argued without thinking.
"Mate, I was all out of sorts that day. But you," he added pointedly,"—you didn't even try to stop her because you were so desperate to prove you were right."
"I was right, wasn't I?"
"That's not the point, Harry. She could have been hurt—"
"—but she wasn't. Weren't you the one saying she can take care of herself?"
"That doesn't mean we should be placing her in situations like that. She got off lucky. Malfoy was caught off guard because he was expecting you. You know he hates her more than either of us."
Harry went tightlipped, unsure if he should bother correcting Ron's claim from what Hermione and Ginny had been spending the majority of this past year trying to convince him of otherwise.
"That may be. But in the end, she was right to go after him. Who knows what would have happened if I went?"
At his grave tone, Ron felt a chill run down his spine and they both went silent. This was something both had thought about numerous times. What if Hermione hadn't stepped in? Would he have found the answers he spent most of a school year searching for? Or would they have let years of rivalry and hatred consume them?
"I won't bring Malfoy up with Hermione," Harry decided, grimacing at the last time he was accusatory towards Malfoy with her. "But if you're really worried, I'd reach out to her." Then he stood and headed for his room, fully intent on getting at minimum two night's worth of sleep with his newly acquired days off.
He was just shy breaching the doorway when Ron spoke up.
"Harry, wait." He stopped dead in his tracks, still facing away. "You don't think you would've tried to kill each other, do you?"
He tensed slightly, picturing the vivid image of an old, tattered Potions book. Along with a particular curse written in elegant script.
"I can't say."
March 1, 1999
"What page did he say?"
Luna's delicately placed whisper brought her back to the still occurring lecture. She'd been absentmindedly gnawing on the tip of her quill, uneasy as her thoughts were clearly preoccupied.
"394."
As Luna flipped in her textbook, Ginny was instantly brought back to her conversation with Harry last night. A few yawns and drawn out words and she knew he hadn't been sleeping well, if at all. If she had to wager a flatly guess, she would choose the latter as he had a tendency to let work carry him away.
It wasn't far from the truth. After the end of their talk, Ginny spent a restless night tossing and turning about, unable to clear her mind. It was difficult, being as transparent as he was and having to refrain from sharing anything work-related the past few months. All she could do from a distance was ensure he managed to take care of himself.
And she hated it.
She wanted nothing more than to be there at the end of the day when he got home from a long day. To be able to make his favorite meals like her mum did for her. Or surprise him and cheer him up with spontaneous shower sex. Or watching those two-hour long moving pictures he loved so much.
Recognizing the need to focus, she forced her thoughts elsewhere and her brain caught up with her surroundings. She could vaguely hear Blaise and Theo in their own world conversing to her left. Luna sat next to her on her right, attention switching between the board and her own notes. And in between her and Professor Greeves who was neck deep in mid-lecture, sat Hermione and Malfoy.
Outside of Potions, they weren't given assigned seats and there were several who found it peculiar that they sat next to each other willingly. With the start of a new term, it wasn't unusual to find people occasionally gawking at them. Ginny watched a girl from afar sigh while staring at Malfoy, who didn't pay her any mind. Hermione remained more reserved than usual which she assumed most, including herself, were grateful for. Now that they were midway through the second term, things settled into a form of normalcy. It helped that there was no reason to think there was anything between them.
They came to class at different times, avoiding making any eye contact until the end of lecture where they parted ways with either a brief farewell or a curt nod. But Ginny knew something others didn't.
She knew there were usually two cups of hot beverages hidden away in Hermione's bag at any given time.
She knew it wasn't a trick of the eye when Malfoy's arm instinctively reached for the small of her back whenever she stood from her seat.
She knew just what brought a smile on her face at random points throughout the day.
She knew why he was all the more motivated during practices on rainy days.
And everyone knew just how much Malfoy hated practicing in the rain.
Once class ended an eternity later, Ginny, being the last one to leave, slowly drudged her way to the Great Hall. Her eyes searched for any familiar faces, only finding Luna sitting alone in their usual spot. Eventually, she took her place next to the Ravenclaw witch who was who was actively tending to a hole in a jumper that looked slightly too big to be hers.
They sat in silence. Only a few minutes passed when Ginny decided to speak up.
"I spoke to Harry last night." Her attention was half-lost, fixated as she watched Luna's fingers weave with utmost precision. "He hasn't been sleeping well lately."
Ginny saw her halt for the slightest second before continuing the repetitive motions.
"If it at all helps, Rolf hasn't been either." Ginny turned to look at her in surprise. She hadn't mentioned his name outright before. Henry says that we're in a sort transitioning phase. As we enter the next lunar cycle, we'll find that established relationships are undergoing a test of sorts."
"Henry?" Ginny echoed again, bemused.
"My moon frog friend. I'll have to have you meet him one day. He's rather friendly. Regardless, I'm certain things will improve once this case of his ends."
"And if they don't? What if this is just a hint of what it will be like going forward?"
Luna kept working, her hands constantly moving. Even as a subtle look of concern dawned upon her.
"Then that is something you will have to accept. Harry has always been passionate about helping people and protecting what he holds dear to him. What he does, he does it because he cares about others. That's who he's always been."
"You're right," she sighed, dropping her head in her hands. "I don't know why I'm acting like this."
"Reasonably so. It's a difficult time for him so naturally, it affects you as well. But he's been through far worse," she stated, a slight smile working it's way across her lips. "You don't seem all that concerned about your brother?" To which, Ginny scoffed jokingly and waved her hand.
"Merlin, no. He's someone else's problem to deal with."
The pair continue to chat until Theo approached the table with a handful of pastries.
"Morning ladies."
"Hi Theo." They said in unison, smiling at him. Until Ginny reached for a chocolate danish before he held entire the tray out of reach.
"Ah ah," he tsked with disapproval. "Slughorn requested I bring these to the shared faculty space and I'm not getting in trouble because you couldn't control your chocolate addiction." Ginny rolled her eyes, crossing her arms before grumbling; "Knew I always liked Blaise better."
"Unfortunately for you, he's in detention," Theo responded with a smirk.
"Why?" Luna implored.
"Prefect caught him and Elena in one of those abandoned classrooms on the third floor. Word's gotten around that they're prime locations for shagging. McGonagall will be making an announcement about it later today." Ginny side-eyed Luna who took the chance to take another spoonful of soup.
Curious.
Fortunately for her, Theo didn't seem to pay any mind. "Dunno where the Princess and Draco are, though."
Luna took another spoonful.
Even more curious.
"Well, I should be off. See you guys at dinner."
"Bye Theo," they waved, repeating in unison.
The moment Theo was out of earshot, Ginny turned to face other witch. "Luna?"
"Hmm?"
"Did Henry say anything about the cycle's influence on new relationships?"
Luna merely smiled.
A loud bang.
"Malfoy."
No response.
"You have thirty seconds. You have a visitor."
Heavy footsteps receded on one side of metal bars. On the other side, a hooded figure sat in one of four dark corners of a tight space. The area was furnished with a makeshift bed dressed in what were once white sheets, a few books and by the unwashed sheets of his made bed and the steady growing pile of galleons. Most days, he spent preoccupied with other wizards to pass time but today was not one of those days. Someone had been selected to have their fate met by a dementor. It was understood that no matter how deserving the act, it was a somber day for all. Even the guards were less demeaning.
"You're a celebrity, Malfoy. Second visitor in three months. Must be a record."
Only slightly less.
Within minutes, the wizard found himself in the interrogation room yet again. His hands binded with enchanted cuffs. His magical core suppressed. His head cast downward. He learned not to ask questions early on in his imprisonment. It was better for everyone that way. The guards would have an easier day. Meaning they would give him less of a hard time. After months of self-reflection, he came to the conclusion that they were simply doing their job. To keep people that had a habit of bending the rules in line. People like him.
He stopped fighting the Aurors after the second week of imprisonment. He'd even dare to say he'd become to be one of their preferred prisoners. He was easy to work with. No backtalk. No questions. He just did as instructed. It took seven minutes before the door opened again.
"I hoped you would have looked better than this."
The chilled voice was a dagger to his shields. Baring no chance against even if his barrier was anything more than frail.
His eyes flashed open. His head stayed down.
It was impossible.
It was only a figment of his imagination. That voice, her voice. The one that haunted his thoughts every waking minute. This couldn't be real. Only one way to find out...
"Had I known you were coming, I would have prepared appropriately."
"Proper etiquette should suggest you are presentable for any occasion." And he knew then, he hadn't made her up. He could never get the tone of her snark quite right.
Finally, he looked up.
Proper was far too plain a word to describe the magnificent creature before him. There she sat, prim and poised. A woman he would gladly fall to his knees and plead for forgiveness over and over again. the very person he'd yet to see since his sentencing. The woman that was once his. The mother of his child. Someone he'd obtained in past, and pushed great lengths away.
"Cissy." Her name tumbled from his throat like a forbidden praise. "You're really here."
"Good to know your eyes still work," she quipped humorlessly.
"My darling. How I've missed y—"
"Don't." She was quick to shut him down, and his mouth closed instantly. "Despite outward appearances, I've turned back nearly twice already and am barely holding onto a thread."
"I've always admired that about you." He couldn't help but let the truths slip out. After all, he was a man who desperately missed his wife. "You were always the strongest one of us."
"You know pretty words won't fix the damage you've inflicted upon us."
He sighed, fully anticipating this conversation would occur happen at some point in his miserable lifetime. Perhaps at his death bed when he was too weak and ill to retort. Not once did he think it would be today.
"I do—"
"You could spend eternity and a half apologizing and you would still fall short. My family thinks me a fool for letting you doing this. But you are all I have left."
"You've always followed your heart. It is the very reason we are still alive. Because of you," he clarified. Not that he needed to. Though he felt like he owed it to her. "While I am aware these circumstances are not ideal, I have missed you, dear wife." Out of instinct, his fingers twitched. Now that he had his beloved wife in close proximity after many long months, he ached to hold her. Ensure her tangibility. Take in her essence. Prove to himself that she is, in fact, real and not a figment of his imagination. "I've spent everyday here thus far figuring out ways to make it up to you."
"That's rather ambitious of you. Do you think you can manage?"
"I'll be damned if my last breath isn't devoted entirely to you. I was a blinded man, Cissy. I was...sorely mistaken in thinking the Dark Lord could provide anything to our family," he spat bitterly. "All this time, I've never been more wrong."
"How long have you been preparing that speech?"
His lips twitched. "Longer than I'm comfortable to admit, I'm afraid."
"Haven't you let fear rule your life long enough?"
"Fear, yes. Pride, on the other hand. This is to keep the last strand of dignity I have left."
She tilted her head at him, fully taking him in. "You've changed since I last saw you."
"My hair is certainly longer and the wardrobe here could use some work—"
"—I meant you're more level headed. You aren't as quick to anger as you normally are. I believe this is the first time in years you've been so attentive to what I have to say. The last time being when we sent Draco to Hogwarts." His head fell in shame. "That is to say, not every choice was a terrible one." She leaned forward, tilting his chin up. "You've given me the greatest gift I could have asked for." He flashed a slight grin.
"Well, I've told you that the men in our family have—OW." He winced, unable to dodge the non-verbal hex she cast at him.
"I was referring to our son," she said tartly.
Lucius scoffed. "You mean your son. He would rather bleed out than be claimed kin to me."
"He's upset, and has every right to be. His own father let him down after promising to be there for him. Even at such a young age, he understands the discipline of loyalty. Somehow, we've strayed afar from that over the years."
He chuckled darkly. "You say that as if to imply our family was anything but poison to start."
"My sisters have always warned me to stay away from such a name. But I've never viewed it as such. You, like your ancestors, pledged your allegiance to the wrong people. But our family is more than that. Draco is the very thing we vowed our very lives to protect. He is our legacy. Even if we question his intentions, we must trust him to know what's best for him. And to help him see his decisions through."
He swallowed, unsure of how to say the next words. "Then you know he came to see me during Christmas. What he asked of me. The girl—"
"—she was never the right one for him. I know, Lucius. But, I thought for certain you would put up more of a front knowing his reasons."
"Let's just say I've had an eye opening experience since his incident."
Her frown deepened. "It took him nearly dying for you to come to your senses?"
"Not quite," he corrected, a lilt in his tone. "For the record, I never wanted him to choose her. It was his own stubbornness that led him to such a rash decision."
"You didn't say anything against it."
"And what? Further push my only son away when I'm currently in a bloody prison cell? We both know he never would have been truly happy with her. Her condition only would have meant a cursed life for him. Even if they were able to successfully bear a child, he would spend his entire life as an incomplete man. Always questioning what life could have been when she inevitably passed prematurely."
They stared each other, not letting up on their gazes.
"He's grown."
Narcissa nodded in agreement.
"He was able to see what it's taken me my entire life to understand."
"I'm happy to see your time in here has let you wallow in your thoughts."
"Not to worry, my love. I've been on my best behavior." She smirked, an enchanting chuckle escaping her. How he'd missed hearing that beautiful sound.
"So I've heard. Some of the guards spoke rather fondly of you. I'd begun to think you imperio-ed them."
"I know when I've lost and how to play the cards in my favor. Just like I know you visited Andromeda after the Gala."
She held her head up high. "I did."
"I thought you weren't on speaking terms."
"We weren't."
"So all is forgiven, then? Just like that?"
"In a sense. Sisters fight all the time and forgive each other. It's in our nature. But don't think you'll be so lucky. I may be easier to sway, but Draco will take more time," Narcissa said offhandedly before crossing her arms, coming off as smug. "Especially now that he's been preoccupied with other things."
His eyes narrowed.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing you won't find out in due time." At her knowing smirk, Lucius let out a groan of disdain, leaning back in his chair and looking upward.
"Thank Salazar I'm not home right now." Both were shocked when a soft chuckle slipped past ruby red lips. Somehow in a place of hopelessness, he could have swore he'd just heard angels sing.
"Well, we certainly know where Draco gets his dramatics from."
"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean," he quipped, sticking his nose upward before turning serious. "But, if what you are implying is true, it might come to our benefit." His eyes darted to the door. Instantly, she shook her head.
"They can't hear us. You can speak freely, my love."
He leaned further into the table, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I've gotten word that the Aurors have been investigating into the other's cases."
"The others?" She repeated, adopting a similar volume.
"Goyle. Greyback. Nott. McNair," he listed, tone growing grim. "Your sister."
She shook her head insistently, denial abundant. "No. Dear Merlin, please no."
"They know, Cissy. They know something isn't lining up."
Her gaze fell, hope gradually diminishing as her thoughts ran rampant.
"They're looking into all of us. If they look long enough, they'll see that they charged me with one crime too many."
"No!" She near-yelled. In all the years and trauma they endured together, he'd only seen her look this devastated once. When the Dark Lord chose her child to take his mark, ensuring certain death.
"Lucius, they mustn't," she pled frantically.
Despite holding his composure, he too, held a desperate expression. Because there wasn't anything more disappointing to be the one to tell your beloved such news. "Cissy—"
She stood abruptly, shoving her chair back to pace about the room.
"Our dragon is breathing fire again—"
"I understand—"
"He is finally getting the chance to live the life he's been withheld all these years. And you're telling me despite our best efforts, it was all for naught?"
"This is beyond either of our control, dearest. Our efforts, however valiant, have only postponed the process." That made her head spin.
"I refuse to believe it so. I will find a way to take his place."
"You will do no such thing," he said sharply, refusing the imagery of what could happen to her behind these walls. "You couldn't even if you tried, he's of age now. Unfortunately, it does mean we'll have to step back into the shadows for the time being. We cannot take part in this battle. Not until it's over."
She looked at him with hopeful eyes. Attempting to search for any other solution. Eventually, she came to the same conclusion.
There were no other options.
"He's already been saved once," she supplied quietly.
"Yes, he has," he agreed, pleased when she finally came to sit back down in front of him. Her hands falling to his out of instinct. "And if what I think you are insinuating is true, he may not have to endure it on his own."
"We've had it all wrong this entire time, Lucius."
His grin grew to match hers, his hopeful eyes sliding down to their joined hands. Their rings shining in the light coming from the single lamp hovering over them. He lifted her chin, staring at bright emeralds glistening in the otherwise dark and dingy room.
"I'm coming to find that being wrong isn't necessarily a bad thing."