The Overlooked

Eighteen

From the diary of Celeste Jenkins

July 10, 1996

I'm in London now, hidden in the anonymity of a half-shabby hotel on the outskirts of the West End. The majority of the other guests here are American; apparently this is a favored destination among those who want to sample a variety of productions and save their money for going out, instead of spending it on their accommodations. No one's given me a second glance, but I can't stop looking over my shoulder, wondering if the next person I bump into in the corridor is going to be one of them.

Sometimes I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to stop running. I just want to sit in this room with the chair shoved under the door handle and cry. Unlike me, I know, but I challenge anyone who's seen the things I have during the past twenty-four hours not to feel the same way.

I know I need to get this down in some sort of coherent order, but my thoughts keep rushing furiously around one another, like ants whose hill has been stirred with a stick. The only thing that reassures me is at least this time Severus knows where I am. He's gone now, pulled away by that Voldemort bastard once again, but I know he'll return to me as soon as he's able. If it weren't for that knowledge, knowing that he'll come back and hold me again, I don't know what I'd do.

All right, then. Now more than ever I need to make sure this record is accurate, so I'll attempt to write things as they happened as much as is possible.

First off, Severus making love to me was all that I hoped it would be...that, and more. My experience isn't at all large, since Alex was the only other person I'd ever been intimate with, but Severus of course had even less experience than I did. Even with that, he came to me with such a sense of wonderment, of revelation, that his initial clumsiness hardly seemed to matter. And when I felt him inside me, I felt complete. That sounds so far-fetched and romance novel-ish, but it's the truth. I'd never felt that way with Alex. Oh, he was skilled enough -- as it turned out, I was the latest in a fairly long string of girlfriends -- but those encounters never had the sort of intensity I felt with Severus. Maybe it was partly because we were so attuned to one another. I could feel echoes of desire coming from his mind, and maybe he could sense mine as well. At any rate, nothing I'd ever experienced before had even come close.

We fell asleep afterward, although it was still fairly early in the evening. Some time during the night he awoke and reached out for me, and we made love again, more slowly this time, exploring one another's bodies and extending our foreplay. He lifted me on top of him, his hands moving up to caress my breasts as we locked together once more, and I had to practically bite my lip to keep from screaming out loud. If we'd been alone together in some isolated place, I wouldn't have worried about the noise I was making, but the walls in Mrs. Evans' guest house were none too thick, and I got the idea that the retired couple who shared the room beyond mine mightn't have appreciated being woken up in the middle of the night by the sounds of enthusiastic love-making from next door.

After that we slept once more, this time all the way until the first hints of daylight began to seep through the chintz curtains that covered the window. It had been so long since I'd had a man sleep next to me that I'd forgotten how wonderful it was to wake up next to someone, to feel the warmth of his body as a barrier against the cold morning, or to hear his deep, calm breaths. There was something unguarded in Severus as he slept, none of the usual tension in his jaw or mouth. Instead, his expression was smoothed ever so slightly -- not soft, no, not at all -- but I saw a bit of the person he might have been if life hadn't been so cruel to him, if he hadn't suffered so many blows that would have felled a lesser man.

His lashes flickered, and then I saw him open his eyes and look at me. Perhaps for some the morning after provides some awkwardness, as one has to acknowledge all the intimacies of the night before, but in this case I saw none of that. The black eyes met mine directly, and I thought I saw the faintest hint of a smile on his thin lips.

"Good morning," I said.

"Good morning," he replied, coolly enough, and then pushed himself up on one elbow, as if to take better stock of his surroundings.

"I hope no one was waiting up for you last night," I commented. Of course I was aware of the fact that he was single and didn't have many claims on his time, since he had no obligations at school over the summer. Of his other life, however, the shadowy world where he still had to curry favor with Voldemort, I knew very little.

"Hardly." Then he frowned, as if the thought troubled him in some way. But he said only, "I'm accountable to no one for my comings and goings."

"Well, that's good to know," I said, taking care to keep my tone light. "Then I suppose you don't need to hurry off? Because I'd like some breakfast after all that exertion."

Again that hint of a smile ghosted around his mouth. "I think that can be arranged."

"Splendid." I pushed back the covers and stood, not letting myself worry about the fact that I was still completely naked. Oh, there's always that rush of self-consciousness -- Does he think my breasts are too small? Is my rear end too big? -- but after all, he was obviously attracted to me and I to him, and in those situations the small imperfections don't seem to matter all that much. And, judging by the way he watched me as I crossed the room and gathered up my discarded T-shirt, he didn't seem to have a problem with either one of those troublesome portions of my anatomy.

"Do you want to shower first, or shall I?" I asked, pausing with the T-shirt half-covering my torso. "I'd invite you in with me, but there's barely enough room in that stall for one person."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You're very forward, aren't you, Miss Jenkins?"

I knew from the "Miss Jenkins" that the question was meant to be teasing, so I just winked at him and said, "I'll take that as meaning I should go ahead and shower first. I promise I won't use up all the hot water."

Without waiting for him to reply, I went on into the bathroom and fussed with the taps. Lovely as Bodalwyn House was, the plumbing was rather temperamental; if you didn't get the balance just right, you ran the risk of getting either scalded or frozen midway through your shower, depending on which way the antiquated taps decided to shift.

However, this time the plumbing seemed to be cooperating, and I pushed the shower curtain aside and climbed in, feeling the warmth of the water cascading over me. Wonderful as the sex had been, it still felt awfully good to get clean afterward.

Past experience had taught me that the hot water lasted for about fifteen minutes at the maximum, so I washed my hair quickly and gave myself a good scrubbing with the lavender-scented soap I'd brought with me, since hotel soap tends to be notoriously harsh. I was just rinsing out the last of the conditioner when I glimpsed a shadow moving behind the shower. Even though I saw right away that it was Severus, I couldn't help starting a bit.

I reached down and shut off the water, then pushed the curtain aside. "Just couldn't wait -- " I began, then stopped once I noticed the expression on his face and realized he was fully dressed in the clothing he'd worn the day before, even though it was wrinkled and looking decidedly the worse for wear. "What's the matter?"

In answer he raised his left arm. Last night in the darkness I hadn't noticed it, and up until then he'd always worn his shirts closed to the wrist, but I could see there, as the unbuttoned cuff dropped away from his forearm, a dark outline of what looked like a skull with the trailing form of a snake. It didn't appear to be a tattoo; to my horror it seemed almost to be a brand.

"Yes," he said, mouth as grim as if it had never known how to smile. "What you see is the Dark Mark, placed there by Voldemort, and used as a means of calling his followers to his presence. When it aches -- as it does now -- I must go to him. Immediately."

"But you haven't showered yet," I said, stupidly, as I couldn't think of any other protest to give.

"I can take care of that later. As it is, I must return to Hogwarts briefly, if only to change. It would not do for me to appear before the Dark Lord as you see me now."

No, it wouldn't, if only for the simple fact that the black collared shirt he wore now didn't do a very good job of hiding the marks I'd left on his neck the night before. At least his wizarding garb, if I recalled correctly, had a very high, tight collar that would cover up all the telltales.

"What happens if you don't go?" I asked, knowing even as I did so that I wouldn't like the answer.

"The Dark Lord has various punishments for disobedience, none of them pleasant." With that Severus stepped forward suddenly and drew me against him, damp and dripping as I was, for one searing kiss. Before my mind and body could even catch up, he released me, then said, "I'll return as soon as I can. But until then, be watchful, and try not to speak to anyone unless you've already had dealings with them. I think you're safe here for now, but this summons troubles me, coming so soon after you spoke with your aunt." For one second his eyes met mine, and I could see the anguish in them. "Be careful, my love." And then he was gone, Disapparating with that distinctive crack! I had come to recognize.

For a second I could only think, He called me "my love," until my addled brain understood the full import of his words. Voldemort had called him, and Severus didn't seem to think this summons was at all random.

The warm, steamy bathroom suddenly felt freezing. I grasped a towel and hurriedly dried myself off, then ran an impatient comb through my hair. Shivering a little, I went out to the bedroom and sorted through my clothing, not caring much what I put on as long as it was warm. A pair of worn jeans and a dark-blue jumper that had seen better days were the first things to come to hand, and I drew them on after slipping into some clean underwear and a pair of thick socks. Not at all stylish, but Severus certainly didn't concern himself with such things, and I only wanted items that were comfortable and easy to move in.

Once I was dressed, I sidled over to the window and carefully drew the curtain aside. The storm of the night before had blown itself out, and once again the harbor danced with little waves of reflected sunlight. As it was the middle of the week, most of the people I saw seemed to be intent on hurrying to their offices or other places of business; certainly I spotted no one watching Bodalwyn House or giving any particular attention to the guest room located at the southwest corner of the first floor.

Severus' words haunted me, though, and despite the fact that I was quite hungry, I didn't know whether it was safe for me to go out. Then again, he had only told me to limit my contact to those I'd already spoken with, so I guessed that meant it should be all right for me to return to one of the cafés I'd already patronized while in town.

Since I didn't want to wait for my hair to dry, I pulled it back into a braid and then straightened up the bedclothes as best I could. No doubt the housekeeping staff would know right away what I'd been up to the night before, but I figured it never hurt to make at least a pretense of keeping up appearances.

I paused at the back door of the guest house to look carefully from side to side before I stepped out, but I saw no one. Maybe that didn't mean much -- maybe dark wizards could sit miles off and spy on me through a crystal ball or something. Once again, I felt myself confounded by everything I didn't know about the wizarding world. I simply had no idea what was feasible and what was not.

What wasn't feasible, though, was for me to keep standing there in the doorway like an idiot. Either I was going out or I wasn't. Simple enough decision.

So I stepped outside and firmly shut the door behind me.

No lightning bolts rained from the heavens. No dark-robed figures appeared to suck my soul out of my body. Quite simply, nothing happened, except the fresh breeze caught in my still-damp hair and told me that probably it would be wise to find a place where I could nip indoors and have some hot coffee and eggs.

Because I had decided I liked their breakfast best, I returned to the Cabin Coffee Bar, the same place where Severus and I had sat after that first momentous kiss on the pier.

Was it really only two days earlier? Somehow it seems as if everything has changed since then. In a way, I guess it has.

I secured a table off in the corner where I could watch the door and be fairly inconspicuous. The same waitress who had served Severus and me earlier in the week took my order once again; I couldn't tell from her expression whether she recognized me, or whether she was wondering why I ate alone this time.

The coffee helped to clear my head a little, as did the bacon and eggs I ordered. I sat at the table for a long while, watching the crowds slowly thin out as time marched past nine-thirty, and even the tardiest of workers had to be off somewhere. Probably I shouldn't have felt guilty about taking up one of the café's tables, since there were plenty to spare, but I kept ordering coffee to make it seem as if I had a purpose for being there, as if trying to hid the fact that the only reason I lingered in the warm, faintly grease-scented space was that I simply had nowhere else to go.

Actually, I did have one place I knew I should visit. Perhaps this was merely coincidence -- perhaps Voldemort had developed a pressing need for Severus' presence that had absolutely nothing to do with the Dark Lord's search for this supposed "Muggle" psychic -- or perhaps not. Whatever the case, I felt that my Aunt Bronwen should be warned Voldemort's agents might be on the move, and that she should be doubly careful. I had no idea what sort of precautions my sonsy, bustling aunt could take against the likes of Voldemort and his minions, but forewarned is forearmed, as my father always used to say.

At that point it was almost ten in the morning, safe enough for an unannounced call. Of course I didn't know what sort of hours my aunt kept, but even if she tended to be a late riser she could hardly fault me for disturbing her too early in the morning. So I dropped some two-pound coins on the tabletop, gathered up my bag, and pulled my jacket back on before stepping outside. Even though the sun was out, the wind from the sea still carried some bite, and the last thing I need was to catch a cold because I'd let myself get chilled.

Tourists had begun to return to the shore, although I noticed few of them were brave enough to actually try any sunbathing. Still, it was a cheerful scene, what with their brightly colored umbrellas and beach chairs, and I found myself reflecting what a beautiful little place Aber was. Perhaps I could be like my aunt and end up settling here. Most people don't have all that much choice in where they live -- they go where the jobs are, or where their families have taken them -- but I was pretty much free to go where I chose. Perhaps this would be a good place to make a clean start.

I turned down the side street where my aunt's flat was located and climbed the stairs to her place. All was as I had left it -- the floral printed mat that guarded the entry, the shining brass knocker that looked a little out of place against the faded blue paint of her front door. But since my aunt had so thoughtfully provided it, I lifted the handle on the knocker and let it fall.

A long silence followed. I waited, thinking perhaps she had been far away from the front room and simply hadn't heard me knock. But as the empty seconds ticked away, a feeling of uneasiness began to work its way up my spine. The hair on the back of my head prickled.

Stop it, I told myself. Did you stop to think she might simply be in the loo?

Perfectly plausible, I knew, so I made myself rap away with the knocker once again, just to make sure. Again, nothing. I pressed my face close to the door and called out, "Bronwyn? Are you in there?"

I hadn't really been expecting an answer, and I didn't get one. Some mad impulse had me place my hand on the doorknob, and to my surprise it turned easily. Even though I knew I should probably just get the hell out of there, I pushed the door inward, took a few steps into the fussy living room, and then stopped dead, my brain at first not able to register what it was seeing.

My aunt lay on her back in the middle of a floral needlepoint rug. Her eyes stared straight up at the ceiling, and her face was contorted by a truly appalling combination of shock and terror.

I knew she had to be dead. Surely no one could have that sort of expression on their face and still live. But I stepped closer, then made myself kneel down next to her and lay two trembling fingers against her wrist, searching in vain for a pulse. Of course there was none...just as there was no visible sign to show how she had died. If it were possible for a person to die of fright, I would have said that was what had done it.

Perhaps it had. Perhaps there was a spell so fearsome, so truly malignant, that it could cause a person to die like that, eyes widened in horror, face pulled into a rictus of loathing and despair. And surely only one person -- or possibly his followers -- would perform such a spell.

Very gently, I let go of my aunt's wrist and got to my feet. My legs shook and threatened to betray me by collapsing, but I forced some air into my lungs and made myself take one step toward the door, then another. I made myself glance around the apartment, but I saw nothing else disturbed, nothing to indicate that a hideous murder had taken place here not so long ago. The skin on my Aunt Bronwyn's wrist had felt cool, which meant she must have died at least a while earlier. Not being a forensic specialist, I couldn't hazard how long, but it seemed that whoever had done this was long gone. Perhaps I shouldn't have felt grateful for anything at this point, but I murmured a silent prayer to God or whomever else might be listening in thanks that at least I hadn't blundered into a trap. Or perhaps I had, and they were just waiting to release it, toying with me by offering false hope.

That thought spurred me on and away. No one tried to stop me from leaving, and even though my whole body had started to shake and I felt as if I were about to lose my breakfast at any moment, I forced myself to slow down, to walk along Marine Terrace as if nothing untoward had happened. In the light foot traffic on the street I saw no one who looked out of place, and no one who gave me more than a cursory glance.

I knew I should call the police. I should do something, when my poor aunt was lying dead in her living room, needlework flowers blooming around her head like some horrid travesty of a funeral bier. But perhaps Voldemort's followers had infiltrated the police, perhaps they could somehow tap into the phone lines....

Oh, don't be an idiot, I scolded myself. They're wizards, not bloody MI6 or something. From what I could tell, members of the wizard world tried to separate themselves from us Muggles. Not that I really could call myself a Muggle any longer. Still, I knew I couldn't trust anyone...except Severus, and he wasn't here with me now. He had left me alone.

That way led to self-pity, though; I gave myself a mental shake and made myself concentrate on what to do next. Severus would return when he could, and even though every mental instinct was telling me to leave, and now, I didn't want to disappear on him yet a second time. He'd been rather vague as to how he had found me in the first place, and I didn't want to trust to luck that he'd be able to locate me again. On the other hand, I felt fairly certain that returning to Bodalwyn House was a singularly bad idea. I had no way of knowing how much information -- if any -- my Aunt Bronwyn had given away before she was murdered. She could have died defending my secrets, or she could have been put through such excruciating torture that her murderer had been able to wring my current whereabouts from her.

So, knowing that I couldn't go back to the guest house, but also terrified of being captured by Voldemort's followers, I wandered aimlessly along the waterfront, then managed to attach myself to a group of university students who appeared to be getting a guided tour of Aber's sights. I had the vague feeling that there was safety in numbers, and that certainly even the boldest of dark wizards would think twice about attacking someone who was with a group as large as that. Although I got a few curious looks, as several people in the group tried to figure out who I was, no one challenged me, and I was able to go on for a few hours before the tour broke up around noon, presumably so the students could go to lunch.

By then I deemed it prudent to slip quietly away before someone got up enough nerve to start asking me question, but where to go next? I wanted to stay with places Severus and I had gone together, as I assumed those would be the locations he'd seek out first once he realized I wasn't at the guest house. On the other hand, I need to stay in clear view of other people if possible...not that any of them would probably be able to do much in the event of an attack by Voldemort.

In the end, I returned to the Brasserie on the pier, the restaurant where Severus and I had shared that lovely meal just a few evenings before. It felt safe, and right then I needed a little of beauty and comfort around me. I needed something to remind me that the world hadn't gone mad.

Or maybe it had been mad all along, and I was only just now realizing it.

I ordered a bowl of soup, even though I knew eating it would be difficult, if not downright impossible. I also asked for a glass of wine. Perhaps merlot and seafood chowder wasn't the best combination, but right then I cared more about settling my nerves than whether my food pairings were up to snuff.

The wine came first, and I took one sip, then another, and felt a bit of spurious calm settle over me. Certainly my prosaic surroundings seemed the last place where one would expect to find a dark wizard. If it meant I'd have to order the whole bloody menu to retain my position in that comfortable booth with its view of the sea, so be it. Right then I didn't think I could take another step without Severus at my side.

I glanced at my watch. Almost twelve-thirty. More than four hours had passed since he had left. I had no way of knowing how long Voldemort would require his presence; I didn't know whether four hours was an unusual span of time or not. All I could do was sit there and watch the wind play with the waves on the harbor as I drank my merlot and prayed he would return to me soon.

The soup came. I took my time eating it, but of course eventually it was gone, and I lifted the menu, forcing myself to concentrate on its contents. But in my mind I kept seeing my poor aunt sprawled out across her rug, and that awful expression of pure terror which had contorted her pleasant features. Perhaps I should go to the pay phone I had seen near the front entry and ring up the police. Just a quick, anonymous tip, done and over with long before they could even think to trace the call. Besides, a pay phone would be safe, wouldn't it?

Hesitating, I laid the menu aside, and immediately the waiter returned to see if I wanted anything else. I asked for a baked potato with cheese, since that sounded mild enough my stomach could probably manage it, then told him I just needed to use the pay phone and that I would be right back. He gave an understanding nod -- no doubt he thought I'd been stood up by a lunch date -- and I slid out of the booth and made my way to the front of the restaurant.

I had just tipped a coin into the pay phone when I heard Severus say, "Whoever you're about to call, don't."

Startled, I whirled away from the phone and dropped the handset. He stood in the lobby, arms crossed, watching me with his customary lack of expression.

I think I sobbed, "Oh, thank God!" before launching myself at him. Caught off-guard, he still managed to awkwardly fold his arms around me and pull me close.

For the longest moment I could only stand there, clinging to him the way a stranded swimmer might cling to a lifejacket. Tears choked my throat, but somehow I managed to keep them at bay. Some dim idea that making a scene in the lobby of the Brasserie was probably not the wisest thing to do allowed me to force myself to a shaky calm.

After a bit Severus pushed me away very gently. His dark eyes sought mine with a tenderness I'd never seen before.

I said simply, "My aunt is dead."

He nodded. "I know."

So it had been Voldemort...or one of his minions. At that point I supposed it really didn't matter. "I was calling the police," I explained, since I didn't know what else I should say.

"Noble, but misguided," Severus replied. "No need to call any attention to what happened, or to connect yourself with it. What you do need to do is get out of Aber. Immediately."

"I just ordered more food," I said. My brain didn't seem to be working very well.

For a split-second he looked almost amused. "Well, let us go take care of that -- settle your bill and so forth. I hope there isn't anything in your room at the guest house you're overly attached to."

There wasn't, really -- clothing could be replaced, after all, and I had my purse with my identification and credit cards with me. "No," I said.

"Good."

Severus followed me back to my table, where I intercepted the waiter and apologized for the mix-up, and said that I needed the bill immediately. He looked a little confused, but he did produce the requested piece of paper from his apron pocket. I handed him my credit card, and then he left while Severus and I hovered uncertainly near my abandoned booth.

"So where -- " I began, to which he immediately replied,

"London."

I supposed that made sense; after all, if you couldn't hide someone sufficiently in a place as big as the country's capital city, where could you hide them?

"Not permanently, perhaps," he went on. "But at least until we can decide what to do next. I've located a very Muggle-ish lodging for you -- I can only hope it will be safe for a time."

"But how did you -- "

He held up a hand, his gaze shifting away from mine, and I turned to see the waiter approaching us with my credit card slip to sign. I took care of the transaction, then slid my copy of the receipt into my purse.

Looking relieved that was done with, Severus led me back into the lobby and then, to my surprise, into the men's restroom. Luckily, it was empty, and I lifted my eyebrow at him. "Interesting choice," I said.

"It's unoccupied, and I can't risk anyone seeing us together." With that he reached out and pulled me tight against him. "Hold on."

And then there was the crushing sensation of Apparating, of translating one's mind and body from one space to another in the blink of an eye. A second later we stood in a slightly shabby hotel room that tried for a retro look and failed miserably. Or perhaps it really hadn't been redecorated since the early 1970s. A faint ghost of street noise seeped in from behind the heavy striped curtains.

"I've checked this neighborhood, and it's safe," Severus informed me, after releasing my arm. "But I would advise staying in the hotel as much as possible. Down to the corner and back for food, and there's a second-hand clothes shop two doors from here, with a chemist's beside it, but no further than that. Do you understand?" And he looked so forbidding all I could do was nod faintly.

Then he reached out and held me again, one hand running down my hair to its tangled braid. Horrible as things had been, somehow I felt reassured. Surely no harm could come to me as long as I had Severus as my guardian.

I felt his body go tense, though, and he released me, his right hand touching his left forearm in that gesture I recognized and hated.

"It's him, isn't it?" I asked.

Severus nodded. "I must go. Take care -- and only use this if you must." From within his jacket he withdrew a wand I had never seen before, stained a pale reddish-brown and quite unadorned.

"What happened to my wand?" I asked. Then I realized it had been left with the rest of my belongings in my abandoned room at Bodalwyn House.

"I took it -- just in case."

"In case of what?"

At that question he just shook his head. "In case it's needed." The black eyes met mine briefly. "You trust me, don't you?"

Without hesitating, I answered, "Completely."

"Then trust that I know what I'm doing." He bent and kissed me, a hard, quick kiss that communicated some of his frustrated need and worry. Then he stepped back, and was gone, the outraged air protesting his sudden departure.

And after that I had very little to do but take up this journal and write. The words help to keep me calm, although I know at some point I'll have to slip out and purchase the few necessities I need. But for now it's better to stay here, in this dingy little room with its faint lingering scent of cigarette smoke, and pray that Severus really does have the means to save me....

The Overlooked -- 242

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