Symmetry and Discord

Symmetry and Discord

CHAPTER ONE

dreams and reality

It was annoying, the way some dreams replayed themselves. From Robert Langdon's perspective, the good, satisfying, or pleasant dreams were never subject to reruns.

It was always, and without fail, the nightmares.

Robert had the same particular nightmare on and off for the past two years, ever since he turned forty-three and saw his age for what it was - the middle of his life - mid life. At least, Robert thought, my mid life crisis is not manifesting itself in gaudy clothing, expensive cars, or hair plugs -- not that I need hair plugs. Rather, Robert's doubts and fears about his own mortality gelled and coalesced most often in his dreams.

The nightmare had always been the same - tedious and expected - but, on the other hand, somehow scintillating -- like his rote lecture on the Divine Feminine in DaVinci's The Last Supper. He knew it well, but it stirred him up from within each time.

In this dream, Robert and a younger, beautiful, and rather endowed woman were climbing an Egyptian pyramid - or perhaps it was Mayan -- Robert never knew for certain. Each time Robert struggled, panting and heaving, to catch up to the woman at the top.

Robert always awoke before he reached her - before he reached the top of the Pyramid. He was always jarred out of sleep by some frightening vision. Once, the woman disappeared, replaced by an ugly, snaggletoothed old man. Other times, Robert would be startled awake by the woman's increasingly nasty, and sometimes violent, comments about his graying hair, wrinkled skin, and his approaching lack of physical prowess.

Until ten days ago -- Robert Langdon couldn't believe how much his life - and his dreams -- had changed in that short span, that miniscule amount of time. The last ten days had altered his existence more profoundly than the past ten years.

Ten damn days.

Ten days ago, Langdon awoke, dazed and confused, in a hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland. Robert's heart had stopped - he had suffered ventricular fibrillation - after a violent blow to the chest that broke three of his ribs. However, Robert was not kicked, was not punched, was not hit by a car, or pistol whipped. He was hit squarely in the chest with dangerous and potentially deadly magic - magic directly from the wand of a Death Eater - a follower of the most horrible, most feared wizard of recent time - Lord Voldemort.

Ten days ago, Robert did not even believe in magic. He did not believe in much of anything save what he could see, feel, touch, taste, smell, or otherwise measure. He was a Harvard academic, a scholar -- not a believer. While he studied man's art as inspired by God, he did not allow his rational mind to believe in Him. While he wrote occult symbology books such as The Symbology of Secret Sects, he was not a Satanist. His faith lay in what he knew best - forms of human expression - forms with substantive bases and plausible explanations. Mythical nonsense like magic had no place in Robert Langdon's strictly ordered - and perfectly tangible -- universe.

Ten days ago, Robert Langdon had no idea that his good friend, Paolo Zabini, was one of the rare human beings on this planet who could actually do magic. Paolo Zabini was a wizard, his son, Blaise, was a wizard, and his wife, Victoria, was a witch. Paolo was the catalyst who dragged Robert headlong into the world of wizardry, myth, and monsters - a world which, prior to that, Robert thought was reserved for Tolkien, Anne Rice, or Jennifer Roberson novels.

Ten days ago, it was Paolo who exposed Robert to possibilities and wonders unknown to - and hidden from -- everyday people. The mysteries of magic and folklore - werewolves, potions, incantations, ghosts, enchanted trees, and living art, to name a few - became reality before Robert's amazed eyes. Unfortunately, however, it was also Paolo who, maybe deliberately -- maybe not -- placed Robert directly in harm's way, not just from the murderous Death Eater, but from Voldemort, himself. In the end, both Paolo and Blaise paid the ultimate price, giving their lives to save Robert from a horrific magical death. Robert knew that their sacrifices would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Ten days ago, bachelorhood had been the only religion that Robert had practiced devoutly. At that time, he had no suspicion that he would commit the ultimate sacrilege by meeting the woman of his dreams. He had no idea that he would bring home - all the way across the Atlantic - the very woman who would bulldoze the firewall he had built around his heart, the woman with whom Robert Langdon would fall in love, and with whom he could envision spending the rest of his life.

Moreover, ten days ago, Robert Langdon had no inkling that he himself had the seeds of magical ability. This discovery, and the others of the past ten days, had turned Robert's ordered world upside down and shook it - until he no longer knew which end was up.

While Robert was unconscious in the hospital, his familiar nightmare morphed into something even more sadistic, frightening, and disturbing. Three women, one Italian - whom he knew as physicist Vittoria Vetra; one French - whom he knew as criminologist Sophie Neveu; and one English - a witch named Nymphadora Tonks, now stood on the Pyramid's apex. All three taunted him, more lovingly this time. As before, all three women were younger, more vibrant, and more alive than Robert. Robert still felt his age, felt himself slipping clumsily off the face of the Pyramid.

Then, he heard a fourth voice. A cold, tinny, lifeless, mirthless voice - a male voice - a voice he could never forget, that of Lord Voldemort. This new voice did more than ridicule him. Lord Voldemort's voice was telling Robert that if he didn't make it to the top, all three of the women would be murdered. Robert cared more about these women than almost anything in life.

Despite Robert's best efforts, Voldemort turned his wand on Vittoria, Sophie and Tonks, murdering them with a single curse - the Killing Curse, "Avada Kedavra." A few hours before, in real life, this same curse, also performed by Voldemort himself, had nearly killed Robert. This same curse, meant for Robert, had taken Blaise Zabini's life.

Ten -- damn -- days.

Now, ten days later, back at Robert's home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the dream resurfaced again, with yet another new permutation.

"Robert, you old man, climb up here and catch me before I make it to the top without you!" This woman's voice, the Englishwoman's voice, was soothing, comforting, and loving. Her words were not biting, not sarcastic, and not acerbic. She was encouraging him to climb.

"Old man?" Robert retorted. "We'll see who's an old man!" Robert scampered up the steps two at a time with ease and grace, pumping his arms athletically beside his body. As he climbed the steps, the sun waned into the horizon, clearing his view of glare, and allowing him to see the vision of beauty before him - only steps away.

"You're almost there, Robert," she said, "take my hand. I'll pull you the rest of the way up!"

"Pull me?" Robert smiled. "No need for that. See," he climbed up the very last step and fell into the woman's arms, "I made it just fine."

He had never before seen the top of the Pyramid in this dream.

"About time, mate," she grinned, her eyes now meeting his. They were wide, full of life, and deep brown. Robert felt as if he could stare into them forever.

"Yep, about time, Tonks." Robert's grin widened, and he bent his head to hers, brushing her lips slightly with his. He closed his eyes. "Let me kiss you, Tonks, please." Tonks did not refuse. The kiss escalated slowly and gracefully as Tonks' own lips parted slightly, inviting Robert to kiss her deeper, explore her more fully.

That was the moment that Robert awoke. Even in waking, Robert could feel a just-kissed tingling sensation around his mouth. Unfortunately, other parts of Robert's body were responding in kind - a fact that did not go unnoticed by Robert's bedmate.

"Dreaming again, love?" she asked, tracing small circles on his bare chest with her index finger. Sleeping half-dressed was one bachelor habit that the past ten days had not beaten out of him.

Robert yawned and blinked his eyes open. "Huh?" He scrubbed at his eyes, lifted his head, and looked at the woman prone beside him.

"Yeah," Robert said without embarrassment. "Frankly, I was dreaming about you, Tonks."

"Me?" She sighed sympathetically. "Not that nightmare again. The one you told me about?"

"Yes - and no. But, as you can probably tell," Robert's eyes darted toward the base of his torso, "it's not a nightmare anymore. No Voldemort. You don't die, and I made it to the top - to find you. If I remember right, just before I woke up, you kissed me." Robert grinned wickedly.

"I think you mean you kissed me," Tonks gave a sly wink.

Robert winced. "How the heck do you know that?" He rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me. Legilimency. You saw it in my thoughts. That's an utterly foul thing to do to a sleeping man!"

"No," Tonks replied, sitting up. "You said it out loud. 'Can I kiss you, Tonks?'" She smirked, her mouth curving mischievously, "Langdon, you know damn well your gob don't ever stop running - you even flap it on in your sleep."

"Aargh!" Robert laughed and stealthily slipped the pillow from underneath his head. With a roundhouse motion he socked Tonks in the shoulder, knocking her down.

"Ooh, it's a pillow fight you want, not a kiss, eh?" Tonks picked up her pillow and responded in kind. The full impact of the heavy goose feather pillow hit Robert in the chest. He gave a slight "oof" of pain, but, knowing that he had started the ruckus, did not otherwise complain.

"Oh, sorry, Robert. I almost forgot about your broken ribs."

Robert rubbed at his offended chest. "It's not the first time that's happened and it probably won't be the last," he smiled. "Tonks?"

"Yes, Robert."

"Did I really say that in my sleep, about wanting to kiss you?"

"Affirmative. I heard it loud and clear."

"What did you... think... when you heard it?" Robert's eyes flashed.

Robert had been surprised when Tonks had agreed to leave her home among London witches and wizards and return to Boston with him - to live with normal people, or Muggles, as they're called. After that, he had been even more surprised that, even though they had been sleeping in the same bed for the past two nights, they had not had sex. In fact, they had not so much as kissed chastely for more than a second or two.

Not that Robert hadn't wanted to. However, there were ghosts of a non-magical sort haunting Robert's bedroom. He had made too many mistakes in the past. His last two relationships fizzled under the adrenaline-syndrome - developing quickly and in the heat of danger. Others failed because Robert was so enmeshed in his own life that he simply let them die before they could spark. Robert Langdon was famous - or rather, infamous -- around Harvard Yard for deliberately not returning a woman's phone calls.

But this woman was different. If she had called he would have dashed to the phone like a lovesick teenager. He wanted to take this one slowly, one step at a time, and show Tonks all of the respect she deserved. I don't want to lose her like I did Vittoria and Sophie.

"I thought," Tonks said seriously, "it's about bloody time Langdon comes off randy with me."

Langdon comes off randy with me... That was all Robert needed to hear. In one swift, albeit slightly painful move, he reached his left hand behind Tonks' head, and pulled her close in towards him, closing his eyes, finding her lips with his and enveloping her in a searching, longing kiss.

Just like in his dream, Tonks immediately opened up to Robert's touch, parting her lips slightly with every pulsating, rhythmic move from his own mouth. Robert had waited a long time for this very moment - and it was everything he had dreamed it would be. With Tonks, the wall created by Robert's lifelong proclivity toward bachelorhood crumbled anew, the bricks disintegrating, layers of protective indifference falling away. Are a bachelor's freedoms really worth a lifetime of loneliness?

Needing air, Robert pulled back. He took in a gasp of breath and opened his eyes. As he exhaled, he felt his body relax into an ease that he had not felt in years, not even when he was with Vittoria, or even with Sophie. Robert had once thought, for fleeting moments, that he loved those women, that he truly desired them - that they would be the ones to finally tear down the bulwark.

From what he was feeling now with Tonks, he knew he had been dead wrong.

Before Robert could utter a single word, Tonks dove into him, renewing the kiss, and pushing his body gently back onto the bed. Ouch. His still-tender ribs produced such exquisite pain, but it paled in comparison to the pleasure he was otherwise feeling. Robert could feel Tonks inching atop him, her head and shoulders moving in a seductive serpentine pattern that matched the rhythm of her kisses.

Robert instinctively reached up and ran his hands along her back, underneath her ribbed cotton tank top, pushing it gracefully upwards and over her head, exposing the soft, delicate skin beneath. His hands found their way down the small of her back, and to the waistband of her sweatpants.

"Yes, Robert's randy." Tonks whispered teasingly as she gingerly straddled Robert's hips, "very randy."

Tonks' simple act of breathing Robert's name in the same sentence as the sexy Britishism, 'randy,' sent him into a paroxysm of desire, so much that the only response he could manage was nothing more than an ecstatic groan.

Robert knew this moment would come, and he wanted it to be perfect. For a split second, his rational mind took over, wondering if this was the right time, the right place, the right circumstance.

However, upon viewing the feral look in Tonks' eyes, as well as seeing her youthfully athletic body for the first time, his limbic system reasserted itself and quickly established its primacy - squelching any sense of propriety right out of Robert's frontal lobe.

Ignoring the pain from his complaining ribs, Robert sat up, gathered Tonks' lithe torso up in his arms, and pulled himself toward her now bared chest. With the feeling of her skin on his, Robert wanted to bury himself in her, to hold her and never let go, to touch, taste, smell, and learn every inch of her.

Taking a breath, he did just that. His scattered kisses and ministrations caused Tonks to throw her head back and moan, her hands kneading Robert's arms and her hips twisting slightly against his. Good thing I swim every day, or I'd never keep up with her...

Robert sat up further, pushing against Tonks until she flopped backwards onto the bed. Again, with some twinges, Robert pulled up onto his hands and knees over her, exploring her from neck to belly with his mouth and his hands.

The limbic amygdala in Robert's brain was urging him to, without delay, remove Tonks' sweatpants and.... However, his frontal lobe, taking over again, thought otherwise.

"Tonks," Robert said breathlessly, his mouth now pleasantly stinging, "do... do you... want to... can I... can we?" He was unable to prevent his index finger from running along the inside of her waistband. Oh God, he thought, please let her say yes...

Tonks smiled playfully. "Only if I get to go first."

As brilliant as Robert was, this actually took a moment to sink into his now id-addled mind. "If you... go first...oh!" Robert's eyes widened. Randy, very randy at that.

Tonks wriggled from underneath Robert, and guided him gently so that he lay on his back. Just as Robert did moments ago, Tonks was now moving herself and her kisses over the entirety of Robert's bared chest and arms. Just as Robert did moments ago, Tonks moved her hand seductively underneath the waistband of Robert's shorts, teasing them downward with every stroke. As her hand moved lower and lower, Robert felt his yearning expand and solidify. He systematically tensed and relaxed his hip muscles, pushing himself against Tonks' hand, urging her downward toward...

"Hey, Langdon! Langdon, are you still sleeping up there? I know you're home!" A female voice shouted from the foot of the staircase.

Robert's eyes flew open and he scrambled off the bed. "What the hell?"

Tonks sighed and slumped face down onto the bed. "Your girlfriend?" Tonks' voice was muffled by the pillow.

Robert, still shocked, tugged his shorts back on and stood up. "Tonks -- what day is today?" he asked resignedly.

Tonks continued to talk into the pillow. "Friday, and who the bloody hell is that stroppy thing downstairs?"

Shit.

"What time is it?"

Tonks lifted her head and looked at the digital alarm clock next to her. "8:00 sharp." She dropped her head into the pillow again.

"Dammit. It's my editor." My editor - my old, half-forgotten Muggle life. I don't think it will ever be the same again. Robert sighed, pulling on a faded gray and crimson Harvard T-shirt and slipping barefoot into a pair of beat-up Nikes. "I set up this meeting before I left for Europe, and I completely forgot about it."

"So how'd she get into your house? Don't you lock the doors at night?"

"She has a key." Robert crossed to the door, opened it, and called out. "Just a second, Tasha. I'll be right down!" Seems like a lifetime ago.... For at least two people, it had been...

"You gave her a key to your house?"

"Tonks, please." Robert quickly entered the bathroom and began to brush his teeth. He spat out a quantity of foamy toothpaste and looked back at Tonks. "It's not like that. She watched my house for me while I was gone. Watered my plants, took in my mail, watched my bills, stuff like that. I wasn't magical back then, you know. I had to get someone to do that..."

Tonks gave him a wary look.

After another spit, Robert sighed and leaned against the vanity. "She's my editor, Tonks. That's it. Nothing more." More brushing, more spitting. "You know I'm honest with you, right?"

"Yeah," Tonks sighed. "Probably 'cause if you weren't, you know I'd hex you to oblivion and beyond."

Robert strode out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached up and stroked some tangles out of Tonks' long brown hair. "Hey, look at me," he pleaded.

"Langdon! Langdon are you coming down or do I have to come up there?" Tasha bellowed.

"Tash, if you come up here, I'm never giving you another chapter." Robert listened for a moment. "Well, that shut her up, didn't it?"

Tonks laughed weakly, turned her head, and propped herself up on one elbow, again exposing her chest to Robert. God, she's amazing. She's so perfect. Damn that Natasha. Damn the Priory of Sion. Damn that stupid book. "Listen, I'll give her the chapters and get her out of here." He traced a line from her shoulder to her hand. "Although, I'd love it if you'd come down so she could meet you. Will you?"

Tonks smiled and nodded. She sat up, reached for her tank top and pulled it over her head. "I'll be down in a minute."

Robert leaned over and caught the back of Tonks' head in his hand. He again pulled her into a kiss - a kiss which he broke off very quickly. "If I start that again, Tash will be waiting for quite a long time." Robert smiled and stood up off the bed.

"Robert Langdon! Aren't you decent yet?"

"Merlin's beard, Tash, will you just keep your pantyhose on?"

Tonks let out snigger of laughter, which quickly escalated into a fit of giggles.

"What, what's so funny?" Robert shrugged.

"You... you... you just said... you said..."

"Said what?" Robert found himself starting to chuckle, but he had no idea why.

"You said... Merlin's beard in the same sentence that you... you... told Tasha to... keep her...pantyhose...on!"

"Nothing like mixing up my Wizarding and Muggle metaphors, eh?" Robert laughed. "Okay, okay, just come down, please. This won't take long, I promise."

Leaving behind a laughing Tonks, Robert walked out onto the broad landing and leaned over the balustrade. "Hello, Natasha. The chapters are there on the counter. There are three hard copies and two disks. They're all yours. I'll talk to you in two weeks."

Tasha glared up at him from beneath. She was standing in front of Robert's brown leather sofa, her hands on her hips in a pose of pure annoyance. "Not so much as one word from you for ten days, and that's all I get? Not even a 'thank you, Tash'?' Not even a 'my plants look great, Tash,' or 'I had a great vacation, Tash'? I didn't even know you were back until I saw all of your belongings scattered all over the place down here!"

Robert smiled sarcastically. "Well, I am back, Tash. And thank you very much, Tash. My house was immaculate when I came home. The plants are very happy. My vacation was, well, interesting. Anything else?" Robert crossed the remainder of the landing, and trod down the curved staircase into the living room.

Tasha met him at the bottom, and wrapped him in a friendly hug. As usual, Tasha smelled of a combination of stale cigarette smoke and too-expensive perfume. This time the combination was strong enough to make Robert gag inwardly. "It's good to see you, too," she grinned, and playfully smacked him on the cheek. "So, what happened to you?"

She backed away from Robert, scrutinizing him from head to toe, a slight look of pity crossing her features. At the same time, her hands gripped tighter on her sleek black Prada clutch bag. Robert felt another slight lurch - this time of disgust at Tasha's shockingly red nail polish - which perfectly matched her overdone lips and the crimson pocket square sticking out of her severe, black pant suit.

Funny, Tash never caused that reaction in me before! "What do you mean, what happened to me?"

"Well, for starters, I'm pretty shocked to see you - the neat freak that you are -- with your luggage and your jackets strewn all over the living room!" Tasha gestured to the numerous suitcases, bags, and loose articles of clothing.

"It's called jet-lag, Tash, a serious case of it, too. We... I just got back yesterday and I've been so knackered I haven't even unpacked yet," Robert said, walking into the kitchen.

"Knackered. That's a good one, Robert. Very British of you."

Robert ignored the comment. "So, why are you all spiffed up at this early hour?"

"Langdon, you are pathetic!" She chuckled and stared wide-eyed at him, expecting the light bulb to switch on. Robert merely shrugged and shook his head. "It's President Rudenstine's freshman breakfast today at University Hall. I have to go and hype the publishing house to all of those braniacs like you pouring into Cambridge with all of those potentially publishable dissertations!" She winked, and pushed an errant blonde lock out of her eyes. "Christ, Langdon, what is up with you? I mean, you go on sabbatical for one semester and you forget years of Harvard tradition? I guess when an event's not on your social calendar you ignore it completely?"

"Oh yeah. I forgot. Lost track of the days."

"You?" Tasha shadowed him, her Manolo Blahniks clicking on the hardwood floor. Robert reached for his near-empty can of Nestlé's Quik from the pantry.

No, not today. With Tasha here, I think I'll need something stronger than Quik. Do I even have milk?

He chose instead a bag of ground Starbuck's coffee and a filter, and placed them on the countertop. If she doesn't quit soon, I'll be eating this coffee straight from the bag.

"Mr. Palm Pilot, lose track of time? That's impossible."

"Tash, I was in Scotland. Things are, well, very different up there. And some things happened that, let's just say, were an experience I'll never forget." Robert took the carafe from the coffee maker and filled it up in the stainless steel sink.

Tasha became quiet as she watched Robert measure out a precise amount of coffee into the filter. "You know, Robert, I was worried about you, especially after that close call of yours in Paris." She leaned against the opposite counter and crossed her arms over her chest. "And then last week I tried your cell phone and couldn't even get your voice mail." She paused and sighed. "But now that I've seen you again, I'm really worried. Robert, you look different somehow."

"I do?" Robert flipped the switch on the coffee maker. He busied himself sweeping the excess coffee from the countertop into his hand - anything to keep his back to Tasha - to avoid her gaze. "It's probably because I haven't shaved in two days - jet lag -- and you know, all that rich Scottish food just doesn't agree..."

"No," Tasha cut him off. "It's not that. Not that at all. I mean, I've seen you look worse when deadlines approach or when you had the flu last year. I mean, you look really altered, Langdon. Changed, somehow."

"Maybe I am changed," he said, tonelessly, almost mysteriously. "Is the change for better or worse?" God, I sound like Harry Potter.

"Both," Tasha replied, flustered. "Neither. I'm not sure. Just -- different. It's as if you're not the Robert Langdon I knew two months ago."

If only she knew how right she was, Robert thought.

"Level with me, Robert. Something's obviously not right with you. Why couldn't anyone contact you?"

Robert wheeled around. "You asked me two questions there, Tash. Let me answer the easier one first. For starters, I was somewhere smack in the middle of the Scottish Highlands - not exactly the prime spot to get a cell phone signal. But that didn't even matter because my phone broke outside of Notre Dame and I got rid of it before I got to Hog....Scotland. Second, please, Tash, get it through - I was on vacation. Va-ca-tion. Now to answer your first -- people have new experiences on vacations, that's sort of the idea. These experiences change people, end of story."

"Robert, but you obviously brought back more than just some funny stories, photos, and a bunch of souvenirs -- like most people. And most people don't go completely incommunicado from the real world - even on vacation."

Robert didn't know why, but his temper bubbled beneath the surface, and he felt a tension in his throat as the volume of his voice increased. "Don't you get it? I didn't want to hear from the real world. Heck, you know what, Tash? I wasn't even sure I wanted to come back!"

"But, why are you so..."

"Natasha, please! I don't want to talk about it. None of it. Not to you. Not to anyone other than those with whom I experienced it. It's too painful, too personal, too private, and it will stay that way."

Robert turned back to the coffee maker, and watched the brown liquid percolate and drip down into the glass carafe. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, breathed like Vittoria Vetra had once taught him - through his eyes -- bringing his temper under control. As he reached up and pulled a mug out of the oak cabinet, he heard movement behind him.

He turned around and saw Tasha standing in the living room, behind one of Robert's plush, tan leather armchairs. She was holding a large, black piece of fabric with flashes of red satin - Robert's robes. The wizards' robes that his friend, Paolo Zabini, transfigured for him from one of Robert's prized Harris Tweed jackets.

When Paolo first transformed the jacket, Robert was horrified - the double-lined Tweed was his pride and joy, almost his trademark around Harvard Yard. At first, Robert looked forward to the moment when Paolo would change it back. Now, after his experiences at Hogwarts, and especially after the deaths of both Paolo and his son, Blaise, Robert wanted nothing to do with the old Harris Tweed. That garment was now an exquisite and luxurious set of wizards' robes - and that was how it would stay.

"What's this?" She held up the long, pleated garment. "This is beautiful, Robert. Not quite your normal taste, but beautiful. Where did you get it?"

Robert inhaled painfully. The memories of Paolo and Blaise's deaths were still too fresh, too raw, too close to the surface. "It was...," his voice cracked slightly, "a gift -- from a friend." Robert made sure his tone said that he would speak no more about it.

She blinked rapidly, looked down at the robes again, and set them gingerly on the back of the armchair. Her eyes then flashed over something on the countertop back in the kitchen - the cryptex that Albus Dumbledore gave him before his trip home. This particular cryptex contained a Portkey - a magical way of transportation directly back to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This device held the promise of returning Robert to the place where his life had changed entirely.

"And, what is this?" Tasha lifted and held out the cryptex. "This is a new one. You didn't get this one in Paris, did you?"

"No, Robert said resignedly. Is she going to interrogate me about everything in my house? "I got that one in Scotland." Robert turned his back to Tasha again, pulled the coffeepot out from its holder and poured a cup, purposefully failing to offer one to Tasha. "And please don't ask me any more about it."

"This one hasn't been opened, Tasha observed. "Do you know what's in it?"

"Yes, Tash. I know what's in it, and no, I'm not going to tell you." He heard Tasha place the cryptex on the counter.

"So then, what's this?"

Christ, why did I leave that stuff out? Why did I pick now to become a slob? "They're all cryptices, Tasha. Those other ones I showed you in Paris. Those are the ones from the Priory of Sion which were put into place by Jacques Sauniere."

"No, not those," she said. "This thing. It looks like a maestro's baton."

Blaise's wand! Robert rounded on Tasha. "Put that down right now, Tasha. You shouldn't be touching that."

"But what is it? What's wrong with me touching it?" She waved it in a four-four time pattern like a conductor - down, left, right, up. "Where did you get this?"

Robert again felt his ire bloom within him. "Tash, I said hands off, and I meant it. That is not a baton, and it is not a toy. Give it to me, now." He held out his hand for the wand. She did not relinquish it. "Tash, please."

"Just tell me what it is and I'll give it back to you." She teased, not noticing the rising flush in Robert's cheeks and his clenched fists. What the hell's that disarming spell again? Or the summoning charm? Tonks just showed me. Yes, Accio.

Robert ground his teeth. "It is none of your business what it is, Natasha. Now give it to me!" He thrust his right hand out toward the wand, the word, Accio, ringing in his mind. To both Robert and Tasha's shock, the wand flew out of her hand and into Robert's outstretched one.

Robert stared at the wand, horrified. Shit, I did that. Not only did I do that, but I did it without a wand - and with my mind! What the hell is happening to me? "It's none of your... business...," Robert mumbled on a breath, and placed the wand gingerly on the countertop. He looked up and blanched at the astonished look on Tasha's face.

"Robert, what did you just do?" She was now breathing heavily, her voice tremulous.

Robert exhaled. "Nothing. Nothing I want to -- or even can -- explain to you right now, Natasha." I'm no more than twenty-four hours back home and already I've blown it - and to this nosy thing, no less.

"Obliviate confundus!"

Robert turned quickly and saw Tonks at the top of the stairs, her wand aimed directly at Tasha. Relieved, he looked back at Tasha, now grinning broadly, a vacant look in her eyes.

Tonks let out an annoyed breath. "Nice move, Langdon. You need to control yourself better around your friends until you get the hang of things. Loose lips sink ships, and all that."

"Yeah, that was a close one. I really don't know how I did that! I mean, I didn't even have a wand...she had it. I didn't say anything - just thought it."

"I saw," Tonks said, concerned. "Shush now. We'll have to talk this through later."

Robert waved a hand in front of Tasha's eyes. She continued to stare wide-eyed.

"Is that what I looked like when you modified my memory?"

"Nah, Robert. I didn't confund you like I did Tash here." She loped down the stairs, tripping slightly on the last one. "Oops. Ouch. But, I daresay you looked even more daft."

Robert pulled a face, but refused to comment. "How far back did you go? What's the last thing she'll remember?"

"Honestly, Robert, I did it so quickly, I'm not certain. I only know that she won't remember you doing magic." Tonks snapped her fingers in front of Tasha's face. "Ennervate!" With a sudden jerk, Tasha shook her head and looked around suspiciously.

"What just happened?"

Robert shrugged. "Nothing, Tash. We were just talking about the book. You just said how excited you were to have the first three chapters on the history of the Priory of Sion in your hot little hands."

"I did?" Robert, albeit still confused himself, smiled inwardly at Tasha's state of bafflement. "Oh yeah, I did." Tasha lifted a hand to her head. "I must have gone dizzy there for a minute." She looked up at Tonks. "Who are you?"

"Oh, Tash. This is Tonks. Tonks, Tash." Robert chuckled. "Tash and Tonks. Isn't that cute."

Tonks groaned, reaching out her hand to shake Tasha's. "My name's Dora, Dora Tonks."

"Natasha Bates. Pleasure to meet you, Dora." They shook hands. "You're English."

"And you're very observant," Tonks smiled. "Yes, I met Robert while he was on holiday. He asked me to come back with him - visit Boston for a while."

"And how long is a while?" Robert sensed a growing jealousy within Tasha - and, for some reason, relished it.

"Oh," Tonks shrugged, snaking an arm around the small of Robert's back and leaning into him intimately, "as long as he'll have me."

Yes, Tonks. You catch on quick. Play it up. Play it up. Robert planted a kiss on the top of Tonks' head.

"Well," said Tasha, "it was nice to meet you, Dora. And nice to see you again, Robert." She crossed to the end of the counter and gathered her purse. "I'll just... go now." She picked up the manuscripts and disks, turned and walked toward the door.

"Let me walk you out, Tasha." He jogged to catch up with her. He reached around her and opened the door, ushering her outside, onto the patio, and into the bright September sunshine.

"So, how did you meet her?" Tasha's voice became crisper, more professional, and the tap-tap-tap of her heels on the flagstone path sharpened and quickened.

"Through a mutual friend. We shared some adventures together over there."

"Adventures... Right. So, why did she come back with you? How long have you known her, a couple of days?"

"Ten days, actually." Robert and Tasha reached the end of the walkway. Robert leaned over and opened Tasha's car door for her. "Longer than my last couple relationships."

"Well," Tasha said as she clambered into her Volvo, "the last two women you met in the middle of some weirdly dangerous situations. I suppose I'm glad to see you taking it slower this time."

If only you knew.

"Robert." Tasha paused with her key over the ignition slot. "I need to ask you something."

Robert leaned into the open door. "What?"

"Do you love her?"

The question threw Robert for a loop. Do I love her? Do I love Tonks? He thought a moment. "Natasha, I suppose for the first time in my life, I do. Or at least I'm growing to. I actually want to - and for me that's something."

Tasha frowned slightly. "That's funny."

"What's funny?"

Tasha's features morphed into an envious scowl. "I always knew you went for the Euro-Trash. I just never thought you'd have the cajones to bring it back to Cambridge with you." Tasha leaned into the door, clasped her hand around the handle and yanked it shut, nearly trapping Robert's hand.

Robert was silent in his shock.

Tasha jammed the key into the ignition, started the car, and rolled down the window. "I hope the little British hussy makes you happy, Langdon. I'll call you in two weeks with revisions to this..." she picked up the manuscripts and waved them, "...piece of crap. And I won't go easy on you this time."

Before Robert could respond, Tasha rolled the window back up, put the Volvo in gear and pealed noisily out of the driveway.

For a stunned moment, all Robert could to was stare open-mouthed after the black S70 as it tore up Concord Avenue. Tasha's words rang in his ears. 'I always knew you went for the Euro-Trash. I just never thought you'd have the cajones to bring it back to Cambridge with you....' 'Little British hussy....' How dare she. How dare she insult Tonks that way. For the third time that morning, Robert's rage blew up inside him. How dare she!

He stormed back up toward his Victorian home. Tonks was standing in the doorway leaning against the frame, cradling a half full cup of coffee. In his anger, Robert flew past Tonks, grabbed the cup out of her hand and drank the scalding liquid down in one gulp.

He fumed into the kitchen, letting out a deep, guttural growl - a combination of annoyance at Tasha and pain from the hot liquid scorching down his esophagus. Robert lifted the now empty white ware mug over his head, wanting more than anything to just throw it on the floor and....

"You know, Langdon, if you smash that cup there, I'll have to teach you how to use the repairing spell."

Hearing Tonks' voice, Robert slowly relaxed his body and exhaled, bringing the hand containing the coffee cup down, and placing the offending piece of crockery deliberately back down on the countertop. He gave a small, forced chuckle.

"I don't know why I let her get to me like that." Robert trooped into the living room, and flopped down on the brown leather couch.

"What did she say?" Tonks refilled the coffee cup and joined Robert.

"Just some viciously jealous things about you. I never knew...," Robert shook his head.

"What else did she say?" Tonks snuggled in close to Robert.

Robert swallowed. "She asked me if I loved you."

Tonks did not move. She did not flinch or react. "And what did you say?"

"I told her... I told her I ... yes. That I was starting to. That I wanted to. She just... lost it, went nuts on me! First she said she was happy for me, then she called you Euro-Trash, I couldn't believe what she was saying! I don't understand that... that... woman, that.... Ah, screw her!" He reached over and pulled Tonks back toward him, again engaging her in an embrace and a kiss.

Unlike before, Robert's kisses were unceremoniously heavy and quick. He couldn't help but move and manipulate Tonks' mouth with an uncharacteristic level of roughness. He was still angry. He was still sore from his encounter with Tasha. He wasn't sure if he wanted to make love to Tonks out of desire for her, or out of hatred for the other woman. Now, in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to pound his emotions out - to sex his troubles away. Euro-Trash. How dare she.

He nearly tore at Tonks' shirt, yanking at her running shorts, wanting, needing to uncover her - to see, taste, touch her again. He strained within his own shorts, desperate for release.

"Robert, stop." Tonks pushed at his shoulders, hiking him at arms-length above her. "What are you doing?"

"I want to pick up where we left off this morning, Tonks. I need you," Robert panted.

"Not like this," Tonks frowned, and pulled herself out from underneath his body. "Not while you're all brassed off."

Oh my God, she's right. Robert crawled up from his hands and knees and sat, sinking back into the couch next to Tonks. He buried his face in his hands, and scrubbed at the growth of stubble around his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that. Sorry you had to see that. Just hearing her insult you that way, I lost my temper."

Tonks smiled and lovingly rubbed between Robert's hunched over shoulder blades. "Ah, bugger it. It's okay, Robert. Really. I know you didn't mean it. But I wanted us - what we would remember to be perfect, you know? In my thinking, we should never make love unless we can completely focus on each other."

"I guess I made a pretty big mess of things this morning, didn't I?"

"Not your fault, Robert. You can't help it if you have a nosy-parker pillock for an editor who happens to be insanely jealous of your feelings for me."

"That sounds like a bad movie or the start of a really bad novel," Robert joked. "Thanks for bailing me out with that memory charm."

"Anytime, Robert. That's part of what I'm here for. To help you and guide you through this - this transition. I understand. It's hard enough just learning at your age that you're a wiza..."

Robert winced slightly. He didn't like to think that she was there for any reason other than his love for her. What was more, he still had great difficulty believing that he was, in fact, magical. It still sounded so strange, incredibly alien to be described with that particular word - wizard. Thus far, he didn't like the way it fried his proverbial hard-drive. Tasha was right. I have changed - more than I possibly could imagine. I just wish I knew what to do about it.

"...I mean, that you can do magic, and it's harder still to control magic now that you know you can do it. And the topper is that it seems you can do it without a wand, which is very rare."

Robert nodded absently, yearning to change the subject. "Tonks, I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll take you to Rialto tonight for dinner, and then we can pick up where we left off this morning."

"That sounds wonderful Robert. It's a date." Robert wrapped his arm around Tonks, and she fell into his lap, her silky hair caressing Robert's legs.

"Tonks?"

"S'up, Robert?"

Robert felt more like an awkward teenager than a forty-something grown man. "When I said I was growing to love you, that I do love you, what thought crossed your mind?"

"That Remus owes me twenty Galleons."

"What?"

"Remus bet me twenty Galleons that I would be the first to tell you that I loved you. Since you said it first, I win."

"Well, what do I win?"

"What's your wager?"

"You," Robert grinned, picking up Tonks' hand and planting his lips in the tender palm. "Do I win? Do you... love me?"

"You have perfect odds that I do."