Chapter Forty-Three: The Concession

The darkness hummed. It whispered of night, and of everything that was wrapped up in it; the distant street sounds filtering in through the window. The soft, gentle breathing of sleep. And the rustling of bedsheets, restless beneath those still awake. Though Harry suspected everyone else — Ella, even Snowy, were not among those numbers. No, he was the only one whom sleep still eluded.

He couldn't say why; not really. Not that there wasn't plenty to keep him awake, but it wasn't anything that had kept him up before. At least not for a while.

He turned, the sheets rustling once again as he faced away from Ella, keeping her warmth at his back. He watched the shadows taking shape in the darkness, letting his mind wander. Retracing their conversation from that evening.

"I like it," he'd told her, brushing his hand through what remained of her hair. He hadn't been lying. The haircut was bold. The sort of thing he'd seen on billboards of Muggle celebrities. Ella was a Muggle celebrity, he supposed.

She had looked uncertain when she'd asked. "Do you really?" Was it his uncertainty that she had felt, or her own?

It wasn't that he didn't like it. He liked Ella in all the ways she could be liked. Long hair. Short hair. No hair. It was more the why of why she'd gotten it that stayed with him. She wouldn't have cut it if she didn't have to. And that just ate him alive; that Ella was losing something once again.

But still, he'd told her it was brilliant. It was the one thing he could do, so he had done it. And he would do it a thousand times over.

[It hasn't made her look any more awful, at any rate.]

Harry jerked up in surprise before resettling in the bed. That cold feeling he usually associated with these encounters settled in his stomach like pooling lead as he closed his eyes to see Riddle standing there, looking particularly aloof.

[I thought I told you to get lost.]

[Yes, well.] Riddle shrugged. [You're not particularly apt at Occlumency, are you, Harry?]

[We'll see] Harry nearly growled. [Occlu—]

[Wait!] Riddle stepped forward, lifting his hand in a placating manner.

Harry paused. [No more deals. I promised Ella. There's no way to help you anyway. You don't'—]

[Feel remorse, no.] Riddle smirked.

[Then what the hell do you want?]

Riddle said nothing, seemingly in no hurry now that he had Harry's attention. Which Harry had no interest in giving.

[All right then. Occlu—]

[It's nice your wife isn't dead.] Riddle practically spit out the words. [Yet.]

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, not quite sure how to respond.

[I mean] Riddle snapped, [that pathetic Muggle medicine is working for her. How nice. You must be so relieved.]

Harry said nothing, simply stared.

[Of course you are] Riddle continued. [Your relief is just flooding every corner of your mindscape. I'm practically drowning in your emotions, Potter.]

[Happy to help with that] Harry said shortly. [Occlu—]

[Do you know what it's like? This existence.] Riddle glanced away, his dark eyes roving the blackness. [There is you, Potter. And there is darkness. And the passage of time, of course. Your time.] Riddle sounded bitter. [My time does not pass. It merely is. It was.]

[Sorry you're bored] Harry said shortly. [Can't help it that your boss tried to off me and left you behind.]

[My boss.] Riddle scoffed, his eyes narrowing. He was silent for a bit, and when he spoke again, his voice was flat. And quiet. [And now you're the murderer, aren't you, Harry?]

Harry said nothing.

[Or perhaps not.] Riddle shrugged. [You really can't seem to finish me off, can you?]

[Is it fun, talking to yourself?] Harry asked scathingly. [I s'pose that's all you've got left until we work out how to get rid of you, so go on, knock yourself out.]

Riddle appraised him, silence stretching between them. So loud it seemed to scream.

Then Riddle sighed. An expression so profoundly human that it took Harry a moment to place it. Then he spoke, his voice biting.

[Rookwood owns a small residence in the Muggle town of Dover under the alias August Rookers, which he uses as a base of operations to bring in contraband from France. Did you know that, Harry?]

Harry stood frozen, his jaw nearly dropping.

[Of course you didn't.] Riddle laughed softly.

[What is this? Why are you telling me this?]

[I couldn't say.] Riddle shrugged. [I suppose I'm bored. Go on, Potter. Catch Dark wizards. Pretend you're not completely pathetic.]

And with that, Riddle vanished into the darkness. Harry lay there for a long moment before he opened his eyes.

"I need a favor."

"Do tell." Ron leaned against the counter of their office tea room and appraised Harry over his steaming mug.

Harry glanced around once again, but the tea room was just as deserted as it had been five minutes ago, when he'd invited Ron to get a cup. And still, he hadn't quite worked out how to bring this up. Was still undecided on whether he should.

"Well?" Ron prompted.

"All right, look," Harry said quietly. He sighed. No more stalling. "I've had a tip about Rookwood."

"What! You—"

"And I'm not sure I can trust it," Harry continued, cutting Ron off. "But I might have a location for a safe house of his. I reckon it's worth checking out, but I need to make sure it's on the level before I bring it to Robards."

Ron appraised him, frowning over the mug. "Are we talking about a stakeout here, mate?"

Harry shot a glance around the tea room again. "Yeah, I reckon so."

"Where's the house?"

"Dover," Harry said. "I've got an alias. August Rookers."

Ron scoffed in amusement. "Clever."

"I've checked into it a bit, and there is a house registered under the name. I've been out there to have a look. Nice place, but old. Bit run down. Wards all round the perimeter. And this is a strictly Muggle town, mind you. No wizards on the register."

"All right, sounds promising." Ron frowned. "So why can't you just—"

"Because I can't," Harry said firmly. "Trust me. I need to confirm he's actually there before I escalate this. We don't need another mess like what happened with Saul—"

"Bollocks," Ron said, folding his arms across his chest. "That's not protocol. Who's the tip from, Harry?"

Harry hesitated.

"Go on," Ron all but growled. "Who's the tip from?"

"It's from him, all right." Harry looked away, scowling.

Ron was silent for a long moment. "Why the hell would he tell you that?"

"No idea." Harry glanced around the space again before meeting Ron's eyes. "He… wants something from me. My attention, something. He's getting desperate."

"Blimey, Harry, you said you'd stop talking to him. It's probably some trap."

Harry shook his head. "I don't reckon so. But I need proof he's there or I can't bring this to Robards."

"Bloody hell." Ron rubbed his fingers across his eyes and sighed. "You owe me for this one, mate. When's the first shift?"

"Now would be great."

"Now? Merlin, Harry, it's—"

"Three on a Friday, I know," Harry said, glancing around the tea room again. Ernie had settled at one of the tables at the far end and was toying with his wand. Harry lowered his voice. "I've been there all morning, but I've got that meeting with Robards, and you're on research, so you're free."

"Goody," Ron said unenthusiastically.

"There's a nice pub across the way. Here." Harry handed over several Muggle bills. Ron glanced at them and raised his eyebrows. "Have a late lunch. Expense it."

"I've had lunch."

"So have a snack."

"Expense snacks at the pub?" Ron raised his eyebrows again. "Who are you, Robards? Never mind, he's not that generous."

"He sure won't be if I'm late to this bloody meeting." Harry said quietly, glancing at the clock. "I gotta go. But, Ron, please be careful. If you see Rookwood at the house, just stay out of sight and report back, all right? Don't do anything stupid."

"Whatever you say, boss-mate." Ron took the bills and slipped them into his pocket, then turned to step toward the door. He paused there, glancing back at Harry. "Any chance Ella knows about this?"

"Er—" Harry said.

Ron nodded. "You should get that sorted, mate. Communication is key and all that."

Then he stepped through the door with a little wave, leaving Harry quite astonished.

Tell Ella.

He sighed. Relationship advice from Ron? Bloody hell. That was odder than Ron refusing a second lunch.

He was right, though. He really ought to tell Ella. She would surely be furious otherwise. And it wasn't that he planned to conceal this, exactly. He had promised, after all. It was more the how of telling her that gave him pause. Though he reckoned he had an idea.

It was a grand idea. Exactly the sort of thing Ella would like enough to forgive an unsolicited chat with his Stalker Horcrux.

"Where are we?" Ella asked, stepping past the door Harry was holding open. She glanced around, her eyes slipping across the polished bar and the smaller wooden tables that made up the room. The light was dim; the daylight spilling through the windows fading, but the candles and firelight of the hearth not yet strong enough to overpower it. Which was perfect, as far as Harry was concerned.

"This is nice." Ella added.

"Isn't it?" Harry agreed, leading her to an empty table by the windows. "They have excellent fish and chips."

"Oh, good." She sat down opposite him, brushing a hand through her short hair as she spared another glance round the half-filled room. A lively group was chattering at the bar. The hearthfire roared, crackling pleasantly. Her fingers twirled around the ends of her hair and she lowered her hand, picking up the menu instead. "Smells delicious. How'd you find it?"

"Work. How was class?"

"Good, I reckon I've got them educated enough for summer." She gave him a curious glance. "What d'you mean, work? Making arrests in the kitchens?"

"Definitely not," Harry said, grinning slightly.

"So the soup isn't poisoned?"

"The soup isn't poisoned," he confirmed.

She flipped her menu over, scanning the other side. "So what then, lunch out?"

"Sure," Harry agreed.

"Hmmm." She traced her finger down the menu then glanced up, her curious eyes meeting his. "All right, you know what I want."

"Yeah." Harry walked to the bar, where he waited in a short queue to place their orders. Fish and chips for Ella, of course, and some bangers for himself because she was sure to crave the variety. Then he strolled back, his eyes sweeping slowly across the windows before he resettled across from her, placing two waters on the table. Ella glanced at the windows too, at the seemingly unobtrusive street beyond, and then her eyes met Harry's. She brushed her fingers through her hair again before reaching for her glass.

"So?" she asked, tracing a finger across the condensation forming on its outside.

"So," Harry repeated, stalling.

Ella laughed softly. "So, we're just enjoying a nice dinner out, are we?"

"Of course we are. Aren't you enjoying it? I'm enjoying it."

"Haven't had it yet."

"I'm still enjoying it," Harry insisted. "Just sitting here is pleasant, isn't it? Great atmosphere. Great view. This water's excellent." He took a sip.

She raised her eyebrows.

"I reckon we could enjoy it for a few more hours at least," Harry offered.

"What, just sitting here?" she asked, glancing around again. "In this pub?"

"Sure," he agreed. "It's a great pub. I could sit here for hours. I have, even."

"OK, Harry, spill it."

"All right." He lowered his voice, though the background clatter of the pub made that little more than a formality. A shiver swept up his arms, but he ignored it. "D'you see that house across the way? The big grey one?"

She nodded, her eyes shifting to the window and back again. She looked intrigued.

"We're watching it," he said, very quietly.

"Right now?"

"Yeah. So if you see anyone coming or going, that's big. You should mention that."

Ella looked at the house again then turned back, considering him. "Whose house is it?"

"I dunno," Harry said honestly. "But it might be Rookwood's."

"What?" she gasped. "And we're just— what?"

"It's possible it's Rookwood's," Harry repeated. "But I'm not sure. And it's a bit complicated."

"Do tell." Ella shot another glance at the house and reached up to tug at her hair again. "Is he there?"

"Dunno." Harry shrugged, also sparing a glance at the house. "I've been watching it since yesterday, but I haven't seen anyone."

"Since yesterday," she repeated. "And you didn't think you ought to—"

"Mention it?" he finished. "Yeah. No."

"Harry? Explain."

"All right," he said, raising his hands weakly. "So. You know how terrible I am at Occlumency, right?"

"Oh my god." Ella pressed her hands to her face and rubbed at her eyes in a way that looked borderline painful. "Merlin, Harry…"

"I haven't been talking with him," he said quietly, his voice turning serious. "I swear. But he broke through. I tried to block him again, but he… Well, he gave me this location. I dunno if Rookwood is there. Frankly, I don't trust him. But I don't reckon it's a trap."

"Why not?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest, as if to protect herself from the ghost of the horcrux that haunted him. The thought made him shiver.

"Logistics," he said, shaking off the sudden cold. "It just isn't practical. He can't communicate with Rookwood, we've established that."

"Have we?" she asked, eyeing him seriously.

"As best we can." He shrugged.

"Is he here right now?" Ella stared him down, her gaze intense.

"No," he said honestly. "I haven't seen him since." He hadn't had to employ Occlumency since either, since Riddle had faded somewhere into his mindscape after this incredible pronouncement, but he didn't see a need to mention the specifics.

Ella was silent for a long while, watching him. "So why us?" she asked finally. "Why not a team of aurors."

"I—" Harry began.

"Oh, you haven't told him," she said, answering her own question. "Have you? You want to make sure it's for real."

Harry nodded, stealing a glance at the house again. Still nothing. No glowing lights. No signs of activity. It looked as abandoned as it had yesterday. "I can't ignore this, El. If it is for real, we have to have to check it out."

"You do," she agreed, her voice quiet. "Or you'd be beating yourself up for ages."

"Right." He glanced at her, meeting her eyes, and she found his hand with hers and clasped it across the table. He reflected that this was going better than he could have hoped.

"I get it," she said, her eyes holding his. "I do. But, Harry, please, you have to be careful."

"I am," he said seriously. "Can't do it without backup. That's why I brought you."

"That's not what I…" she paused, considering him, and shook her head, grinning slightly. "So your idea of a date is to take me on a stakeout. Are you trying to butter me up?"

"Is it working?"

"Maybe." She grinned wider and shot another glance at the house. "You're taking advantage of me, aren't you? You know how badly I want to be more involved."

"It was my very best idea," Harry admitted.

She shook her head and glanced at the house again, chuckling softly. "How long will you be watching him?"

"As long as I can."

"How are you going to manage that?"

"I had Ron do a few hours today," Harry admitted. "I had a meeting I couldn't miss."

"Ron, huh?" She picked up her glass and took a slow sip of her water. Harry watched, not quite daring to say anything. Yet. "So did he see anything?"

"No." He glanced at the house again.

"You and Ron aren't enough," she said quietly, her eyes sweeping the pub. "You're going to get yourselves sacked."

"You're right," Harry agreed. "I'm going to talk to Dan and—"

"We should all take shifts," she said, not letting him finish. "Especially Rob and me. We have the most free time."

Harry hesitated. "El, this could be really dangerous. I don't know if—"

"If I can handle sitting in a Muggle pub by myself?" she said, her voice getting dangerously flat. "You better not finish that sentence, husband."

"If Rookwood sees you," Harry said, his voice very quiet. "Ella, he's dangerous. He'll attack on sight. You don't have the training, you're not—"

"He won't see me." Her voice was fierce. "I will, though."

"El—"

"Oh drop it, Harry." She smiled sweetly. "Were you really expecting a different response?"

"No," he admitted. "Just hoping."

Ella smiled. "That's adorable. Let's get together tomorrow and work out a schedule. I'll take first shift Monday."

Harry sighed. At that moment, a man arrived, bearing a tray piled with steaming plates of food.

"Fish and chips for me!" Ella said brightly.

He set the plates and silverware down accordingly, wished them a pleasant dinner, and retreated back in the direction of the bar. Ella glanced out the window at the house again, its grey facade darkening menacingly as evening fell, and then her eyes slid to Harry's plate.

"Oooh, bangers," she said, and she reached over and cut herself a slice.

Harry grinned in spite of himself. Yes, he had gotten Ella involved in something potentially dangerous again. But they finally had a possible lead on Rookwood after months of silence. And Ella wasn't angry. What's more, she understood; why he had accepted the information. And kept quiet about it.

He was only asking her to keep watch, silently and unobtrusively from the safety of the pub. To contact him at the first whisper of trouble.

It was going to be fine.

Harry picked up his knife and fork and cut off a slice of the banger. He dragged it through the mound of mashed potato and then bit into it, flavor exploding in his mouth as his eyes flashed, once again, to the house.

It was a stakeout. Only a stakeout. They were going to spot something. Bring it to Robards. And then they were going to arrest the bloody tosser, like they should have back in March before Harry had fucked up and let him go.

But that was not going to happen again. There would be no fuck ups. No letting Rookwood escape. And between the protective wards around the house, the ridiculous alias, and the feeling deep down in his gut, Harry was sure that this was where Rookwood was hiding. He could feel it in his bones.

They just needed to see him. Just a whisper of his presence, so they could take this tip to Robards.

Just once glance.

It was going to be just fine.