Now Is the Winter of Our Discontent

"Now is the winter of our discontent ..."

An unlove action adventure story saga

By Ottery St. Catchpole

He lay face down in the snow. Turning him over you would have found his tears frozen on his cheek and eyes, his mouth contorted in a sorrowful scream, and his hands clutching at his chest as if his soul had been torn from him. He wasn't dead, but every fiber of his being wished it so just then. A frivolous sentiment especially when brought about by love's betrayal. Still it didn't change that he lay face down in the snow, and she was gone forever, with the better part of his happiness.

♥

She slipped through the yellow tinted clouds like a long silver knife cutting butter, the airship Sylvania, a zeppelin hidden from muggle view by countless invisibility and repelling charms (couldn't discount those annoying and noisy muggle inventions like helicopters and jets). Looking out of her starboard deck from behind a floor to ceiling glass window was a girl, and she was anything but happy. Approaching her was a man, dressed all in black with an unhappy face, a face that said it had never known happiness or perhaps it couldn't remember, having known it such a long time ago.

"Come now, love, sentiment escapes you," he said brushing a lock of her long hair from her face where, amazingly, tears slipped unbidden and uncontrolled.

"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war," she replied mockingly, then pushed him away and walked off. How stupid that he had seen her crying like this. It was so difficult to get these stupid men to understand that being a woman and having feelings didn't make her weaker than they, which is why she bundled up all her sentiments - and here he had caught her at the worst of them, crying.

And crying over what? Seriously, love was a weakening sentiment and she had much to accomplish. He would have simply gotten in the way of all her glorious plans. Betraying him had been easy, hadn't it? Yet, she couldn't explain the tears.

"Silly, stupid girl," she said and broke down crying even more. She had made her choice ... now was just the living with it.

♥

Prologue II: Save your sadness for the bad times ... time is not your enemy

Write to me Harry, she wrote down on the parchment. Just write to me, you'll feel less vulnerable. I hope that when all the world gives you is indifference, you can always think of me. "Think of me, thinking of you," she said aloud, and rested her chin on her hand sighing. Sighing like a silly little lovesick schoolgirl. And what the devil was wrong with that if that was what she was? Madly in love with the wizarding world's greatest hero, the indomitable Harry Potter.

There was the sound of creaking wood, someone's steps coming toward her room. Ginny grabbed her wand from atop her desk. If the twins were up to their silly, stupid tricks again ... now was really not the time for it. But there was a rhythmic pace to it, like someone hopping, and she realized it was likely her friend Luna Lovegood come to visit, which was wonderful because anything that got her mind off of Harry was a welcome distraction, since that boy probably didn't spend his time thinking of her.

"One stupid dance at a ball and ..." Ginny sighed again pushing away recollections best forgotten.

"Ginny it's me, Luna. Don't blow me up, please," the blonde haired girl said, knocking on the door.

"Come on in, Luna," Ginny remarked smiling. She hadn't really meant to blow the door off the hinges and the person standing behind it ... well unless it had been the twins like she'd first suspected. As Luna walked in Ginny apologized again for the incident, "I'm really sorry about that Luna ... I thought you were the boys pranking again. I don't normally explode the door on my friends."

Peeking around the door, a pale faced, blonde haired girl replied, "I'm sure you were right to do it. I didn't know that's what you did to brothers when they played pranks. I wouldn't know, not having any siblings." She sat down on Ginny's bed straightening her long, lovely yellow summer dress. "Writing an owl? Who to?" Luna asked, then added whispering to herself, "Who to? I wonder if that's a funny?"

"No one ... no one really, I was just ... I was writing some thoughts down ..." Ginny lied and quickly put the parchment away in the drawers of her desk. Luna noticed the red haired girl was careful to use a locking spell.

"You're not using a diary. That's good, I mean after what happened last time," Luna added. Ginny let out a dejected breath. Would no one ever let her forget that stupid mistake?

"Let's go," Ginny replied, standing up and grabbing a sweater from the back of her chair.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. I just don't ... I don't want to be here right now," Ginny said, turning back to put down the framed picture of Harry standing between Ron with his mauled leg still in a cast, and Hermione wearing a funny gold necklace. Colin had taken it after the incident with the escaped Sirius Black.

Things would change, she'd thought, but they'd never change ...

♥

Prologue III: The poetry of love or the darkness in my heart

The sun scorched the earth as if it wanted to burn off every last vestige of humanity from the surface of the planet. At that moment the boy would not have minded it if it were so. He lay on the dry prickly grass of the empty playground listening to the sound of nothing, because not even a wisp of wind moved through the long, tall yellow grasses around him. He felt so desperately alone, like the last being on earth, and death would be a welcome friend. He covered his eyes as the sun peeked from behind the only puffy, large white cloud in the sky. Once it left, the blazing sun's mercy would descend in a rain of fire and brimstone which he could already feel, his shirt sticking wetly to him under his arms and around his neck. It wasn't so much the heat that angered him (though he didn't know this) as much as it was the loneliness. It was not that he hadn't ever been alone but that now there truly was no one there to speak to and it just so happened that no one wanted to talk to him, too.

Didn't they care? He couldn't write to them, Hedwig was not allowed out of her cage. But what excuse did they have? All summer and not a bloody word from any of them about what was going on anywhere. It was as if the magical world had abandoned him, and he was severed forever from its presence. The only facts Harry Potter could count on were the hard cold ones he had seen first for himself and he would have given almost anything in life not to know that news so keenly. Harry knew Voldemort had returned, killing Cedric in the opening act of what Harry was sure to be a macabre new tale of violence, Viktor had disappeared never arriving at Durmstrang with his fellow students, Fleur had gone into hiding in London somewhere shortly after the end of term, Dumbledore had found a new pet to interest him and now all of his friends had abandoned him. Though Harry didn't know why. And all that news was old news now, because he had not heard anything since the end of term.

"Where the hell are you all anyway?" Harry asked no one in particular, or perhaps he was asking God. Right now he didn't care, he didn't feel anyone was listening.

In contrast to the setting but not to the sentiment, Saul Castillo Corazonquebrao lay dying face down in the snow, a lost soul who felt his heart freezing in the midst of icy wastes - while Harry felt his freezing in warmer climes. Abandoned and heartbroken, Saul didn't care anymore if he ever breathed. However much that might have been his wish, the same God Harry wasn't sure was there, and the one Saul didn't want to be there, saw fit to send help in the form of an energetic St. Bernard named Ollie and his wizard friend Jaime.

"Vale chico, qu'encontra'te," the young man asked as Ollie ran around in circles around the snow-covered body of Saul. "How'd you end up here, hijole!"

Ollie barked a reply.

"You're right Ollie, I don't think that really matters right now. Let's get him warm first then we can get him home. Pobre chico, no se si va vivir."

Ollie barked what sounded like a reprimand.

"Tienes razon Ollie, it's not for me to decide. Aya Dios. All we can do is help."

Jaime took a shot glass from his pack and uncorked the tiny cask hanging around the dog's neck, watching the cold liquid pouring out. It had always amazed Jaime that a shot of something cold could warm you up from the inside so well and as quickly as that - and it wasn't even a wizarding invention. He slipped some down the boy's throat and saw him shivering. If Saul had had any strength in him, he might have pushed the boy away but, as it was, along with his happiness she had taken his might. He watched the boy pick him up, a tear escaped him (one which Jaime would always mistake as being one of gratitude for being saved just from death) and he fell prey to sad dreams and memories of her.

♥

Prologue IV: Sidekicks or Love's hero

Life is about choices: the choices we choose to make; the ones we make against our better judgment; the ones we make because we're forced to; and the ones that creep up on us and change our lives forever after whether for ill or good. Living is a choice, as is dying, hiding or moving on. Some of our choices are pleasant to make, what ice cream flavor will I have? Strawberry, cheesecake or chocolate? For the boy that was always simple, all three and a double scoop of bubblegum. Other choices are not so sweet or simple. Do you back your friends when they're wrong or do you stand for what is right? Growing up is a choice as well, a choice he had avoided for as long as he could though it cost him a lot. But when it came to the choice of where he wanted to spend most of his days ... Well. Really. If you knew the dark haired boy, you'd have to wonder if there was even any point in asking?

Paris, of course, a decidedly non-muggle café in a very muggle place

One of the many things the dark haired boy loved about Paris was its outdoor cafés, the definition of chic since before there were dictionaries to hold the meaning. Cafés, those magical places where you could sit outside reading a newspaper in the early morning, or sit on a rainy afternoon and lament the bad decisions of your life - those choices that haunt you, then on a bright afternoon you could share a table with friends laughing life away, spend a quiet romantic evening with a handsome stranger, or late at night simply sitting, trying to clear the haze of your mind from a long, late night at a smoky jazz pub.

The boy had chosen to sit outside of Le grain de café, a café run by Bobby Bean, a wizard coffee maker. The beauty of The Coffee Bean was that it was a completely wizard café in the middle of a very muggle Parisian street. On either side of it were tall, old buildings with shops at the bottom and apartments on top, and in the distance, looming like a giant, the great metal hulk of engineering genius that graced the city.

"Le Rue Amour, how ... quaint," the blonde haired gentleman said politely, though from the expression on his face Ottery St. Catchpole could tell he was being less than honest and more than kind. From beneath the table the boy kicked the chair back as an invitation.

"I don't believe in love myself," Ottery replied smiling, "I have more faith in chocolate," the boy finished. "Want some?" He offered the gentleman a bite from his half eaten almond Hershey's bar.

"Non. Truly, Mr. St. Catchpole, Hershey's? Here in France, with all the chocolatiers at your disposal?"

"They didn't have any Carlos V, and I wanted to have a little taste of home."

"With all your globetrotting I'm surprised you have anywhere to call home." The dark haired boy shrugged as the gentleman took off his gloves and sat down, signaling to the waiter to place his order, then turning his attention back to the dark haired wizard across from him. A handsome young boy, but still just a boy, sadness in his eyes along with a hurt wisdom, but you could easily see from his manner he was still just a little boy playing at grown up games. "Well I think that's enough of pleasantries, no?" The blonde haired gentleman did not wait for a reply before barreling on, "Good. I want something only you can give me, Ottery St. Catchpole."

The dark haired boy turned crimson under the soft brown of his caramel skin, "Why Lucius, you old scalawag," he replied. "I didn't know you felt that way about liddle ol' me ..."

"What the devil are you talking about, boy?" Lucius Malfoy asked, rapping Ottery on the head with his cane. "Pay attention, this is important."

"It would have to be, I mean to get you out in the sunlight," the boy muttered under his breath.

The waiter dropped off Lucius' tea, and left with a bow. All around them, walking down the streets, muggles didn't turn to the funny little café that served the odd drinks to the even more oddly dressed clientele. They were completely oblivious to people apparating and disapparating with loud exploding sounds in their presences, or the funny books and newspapers that they were reading like Paris Match edition sorciele, Le Journal de magique, or People Magique, and what they were most unaware of was the shrunken heads by the door that talked so rudely about them, commenting on their appearance, snippets of their conversation carried out every time the door of the café opened.

"You're a decidedly shady character," Lucius said taking a sip of his tea.

The dark haired boy grinned guiltily, "Flattery, my dear Mr. Malfoy, will get you everything."

Whack! Again the cane.

"My son Draco seems to hold you in high regard," the gentleman replied as Ottery rubbed the top of his head. His bumps were beginning to get bumps.

"It pays to have friends everywhere," Ottery answered shrugging his shoulders, as if the sentiment were not shared.

Whack!

"Okay, that's really starting to smart," Ottery complained pointing angrily at the older man.

"Pity it isn't showing. Let's not tarry too long St. Catchpole I have other business to attend to here. What I want is Ricardo Fenix."

"And here I thought you liked me," the boy complained crossing his arms and turning to look away.

Whack!

"Ouch," Ottery remarked, amending, "What I meant to say was, get in line. He's a very popular kid."

"I've seen the Daily Prophet articles," Lucius answered throwing a copy of the latest edition on the table, where a picture of the boy being rushed out of a long dark carriage into a large house kept replaying.

"I was talking about all the girls at school but ... somehow I'm starting to think you don't want him for the same reasons they do," Ottery said taking a bite of his chocolate.

Whack!

"Okay, all right already," the dark haired boy complained moving his chair out of range, "So you want the kid, why?"

"That's not your concern. Can you make it happen?"

"Can a cow fly?" This got Ottery a dazed look. Maybe the Malfoys were so rich they'd never seen a cow. Wealth made anything possible, somehow the rich always seemed to manage never to see the sorry state of the poor all around them. "I mean in a nursery rhyme."

"You truly are weird, child."

"You should meet my cat," he replied sulkily.

The man rose up, his silk robes had garnered the attention of people at the other tables, Paris was after all a very chic town and a capital of fashion, in all things that were fashionable, "Then we have a deal." The dark haired boy observed that Lucius had noticed the approving and not a few envious glances of the Parisian wizards around them.

Ottery shrugged, "Playing the good guy in every story gets boring. Count me in. I'll get him for you."

Lucius' hands disappeared inside his cloak. Ottery sipped his tea trying to look as carefree as ever, even as he pointed his wand at the man underneath the tablecloth. Smirking evilly Lucius dropped a green velvet sack on the table, the clinking gave away the contents without it having to spill open. The boy ignored it, as he put his cup down, and nodded. It was a deal after all ... and not say a double cross.

"There's more where that came from ..." Lucius replied and disapparated on the spot.

"What? Bad clichés?" Ottery took a deep breath and put the bag away as it was garnering all the attention Lucius had held even as the waiter made a beeline for his table, no doubt expecting a heavy tip.

"Is there anything the gentleman would like?"

"I'll take the answer to the meaning of life if you've got it on the menu. No? Then I'll have another black cherry tea, please."

The waiter looked at the boy with an expression of disdain before walking off. Ottery didn't care, he didn't think the waiter was cute anyway. He sighed. Oh the choices we make.

Sitting alone at the street side café the dark haired boy reached down into his shirt and pulled out a silver, heart-shaped locket. Opening it and staring at her picture had not been his original intention, he had merely meant to move it from where it lay across his heart (he was ticklish there). But once in his hands it felt only natural for his fingers to open the locket as they had done so many times before to let his eyes gaze at her beauty. Ottery was still victim to old mindless habits.

In the tiny picture she was laughing and though it made no noise he could still hear the sound of her gorgeous mirth caressing his ears. He could still remember the lyrics to the song ... en esas noches que soñe contigo ... it was funny because thinking on it now, the way the words were originally written in Spanish their meaning could be 'dreaming of you' or 'dreaming with you' ... but all that did was break his heart again. Ottery sighed and closed the locket, and reminded himself he shouldn't waste his time thinking of her. He could still remember that conversation with Teddy back in Casablanca where he'd told the boy, "She didn't pick you, did she?" It still stung knowing that. The dark haired boy put it away before anyone caught him with it. He didn't need to be teased and, though Teddy was busy in Cairo working with the League of Shadows, if the boys caught him with it he was sure the news would get back to his plush pal.

It wasn't long that the seat across from the boy waited empty. A white cat hopped on to it then jumped on the table. In seconds, another boy was sitting on the seat vacated by the feline, a camera hanging from his neck. The boy fiddled with the long lens.

"Colin, where the devil were you?" Ottery complained. "I sent you to get me a chocolate bar and ..." The dark haired boy sighed awaiting the torrent of words that would soon engulf him if the look on Colin's face was any reliable indication, another of the boy's little adventures no doubt.

♥