Magic, Fairy Tales and Happy Ever After

Magic, Fairy Tales and Happy Ever After

Chapter 3

The entrance foyer of the Department of Magical Affairs in Canberra was always extremely busy at nine o'clock in the morning. Ministry employees, visitors and delivery men all pushed and jostled their way across the narrow funnel-shaped room from the Apparition points and Portkey terminals to the main door.

In the customary rush and bustle of a Monday morning no one took any notice of the thin brown-haired man in a brown coat carrying a battered brown briefcase. No one noticed him drop the briefcase on the floor only metres away from the security post at the main door, or even cared to notice him moving back against the steadfast flow of morning peak hour.

But people certainly did take notice five minutes later, when the briefcase glowed red and then transformed into the bound and stupefied form of Mort Findlay, currently number three on Australia's Most Wanted Wizards list.

All attention was now focused on this extraordinary arrival. The crowd ceased its one-way push and started to mill around the scene, only parting to allow the security wizards through.

The man in brown watched silently from the other side of the room, then discreetly slipped his wand back into his coat pocket and with a satisfied smile on his face, stepped into one of the Apparition points and disappeared with a soft 'pop'.

***

"Harry! I didn't expect to hear from you so soon." Debbie could not hide the excitement in her voice.

"Well, let's just say I was able to wrap this job up much sooner than I expected." Harry's calm, relaxed voice, even on the phone, was enough to send tingles up and down her spine.

"When will you be back in Perth?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound too clingy or desperate.

"I'll meet you tomorrow in Subiaco. There's something I want to show you."

Debbie was intrigued. It was always like this with Harry. She was starting to expect the unexpected on a regular basis. "What do you want to show me?"

"It's a surprise. You'll just have to wait and see."

***

The air was warm and muggy, relieved only by Antarctic gusts of air conditioning seeping out of the shop doors along Rokeby Road. Debbie was in a very good mood. She had just enrolled in the last year of her degree course, had a great catch-up lunch with her uni friends and was now on her way to meet her gorgeous boyfriend.

Her friends had been very curious about the new relationship and their many questions had raised a nagging concern in her brain. She really knew very little about Harry, even after four months. His family, his friends, his job, it was all a mystery and yet she couldn't help but trust him, and she knew she was falling in love with him.

You fall in love too easily, she scolded herself. But she couldn't help it. She always wore her heart on her sleeve and the consequence was invariably heartbreak or at the very least severe bruising. You have to be a bit stronger, she told herself. Remember you hardly know this man.

There he was sitting at an outside table in front of her favorite coffee shop, and as soon as Debbie saw him her inner resolve weakened. Harry's face broke into a gorgeous smile at the sight of her and he rose from the table and pulled her into a warm embrace.

"Hi, beautiful. I've really missed you," he murmured into her ear.

"It's only been a week," she said, turning her head to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

They pulled apart reluctantly as the waiter came out with the coffee. As they sat at the little table their knees were touching ever so gently, comfortable and natural.

"So what's my surprise?" she asked.

He leant forward over the table, smiling impishly. "Drink your coffee first. Then I'll show you."

Unfortunately, you can't hurry a scalding hot long black, so Debbie was forced to be patient as Harry seemed to delight in taking his time.

Eventually, Harry drained the last drop, rose abruptly to his feet, and practically dragged her by the hand back up the street and around the corner.

Behind the veneer of fancy restaurants and boutiques on Rokeby Road most of Subiaco was residential. In the last twenty years, in the manner of one hundred-year-old suburbs all over the country, Subi' had been transformed from middle-class and run down to trendy and chic. Natural territory for upwardly mobile double income couples of whatever gender to live a 'lifestyle with Old World ambience', just a five minute Porsche drive from the pulsing heart of the city.

Renovated nineteenth century villas and cottages stood cheek to jowl with brand new townhouses and low rise apartments. Subiaco was all prime real estate these days.

One hundred metres down the shady tree-lined street Harry stopped in front of a brand new set of three double story townhouses. In one of the current fashion trends they had been designed to look a lot like the aged villas on either side, but it would take another hundred years for them to truly achieve that appearance.

Much to Debbie's astonishment, Harry deactivated the security lock on the front gate of the first town house. He stepped through took her hand in his again and making a grand sweeping gesture with his other hand, he said, "Welcome to the House of Harry."

He bounded up to the front door, towing Debbie in his wake, showing a level of enthusiasm greater than she was used to seeing, and flung open the elegant white front door.

Debbie stepped inside and stood there, speechless. Downstairs was one vast light-filled space. The all white walls and ceiling reflected the summer sunshine in a stark brilliance as if the very walls themselves were radiating sunlight. The dark grey slate of the floor and the matching bench top were the only relief from the brilliance of it. The only furniture at all that Debbie could see in this gleaming vastness was the shining new refrigerator and dishwasher ensconced in the picture perfect kitchen.

"I know it's a little empty," said Harry, with a wry smile on his face, as his voice echoed across the void, "but I only got the keys this morning so I haven't had time to get much furniture yet."

He led her up the winding stairs that led up from the side of the entrance. "I will need some help with the interior decorating. I've never had a place of my own before."

Upstairs Debbie was confronted with the same dark grey floor and stark white walls but the space was smaller, more manageable. The small square landing led into a short corridor with four doors, two of which were slightly ajar.

Harry indicated to the room at the far end of the corridor. "The little one is my study." Through the body wide gap she could see a small room bare of all but a large brown trunk haphazardly positioned in the middle of the room.

The closed doors were the second bedroom and the bathroom

"And this," he said, with a satisfied smile, "is my room." They walked into the large room at the front. The master bedroom contained the only piece of significant furniture Debbie had seen so far.

"A bed?" She looked at him in disbelief.

He smiled. "Well, the most important thing is somewhere to get good night's sleep. Every thing else can come later, don't you think?"

The bed in question was king-sized and solid jarrah; the dark red shining grain lush and warm in the sterility of this untouched room with its white walls and white vertical blinds. The bed had already been expertly made with plain sheets in warm beige. It looked warm and welcoming, unlike the house itself.

Debbie couldn't resist. With a little squeal she turned and jumped onto the bed, landing on her back, arms spread wide. Harry carefully lowered himself on to the bed next to her, his eyes bright and his cheeks slightly coloured. "You like?"

She looked at him grinning widely. "Yes, Harry, I like. If this bed is typical of your taste then you don't need much help from me. "

He grinned back and then leant forward, his lips nearly touching her cheek. "But I want you ... to help me," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. As she turned her face their lips met. Just the softest of touches like spiderwebs, she felt rather than heard his soft sigh and then the kiss deepened rapidly.

Kissing Harry was always an adventure. Debbie felt like she was traveling uncharted water, her senses always so unraveled and shaken. This time was no different as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue, his breath soliciting entry, taking possession.

Harry's lips disengaged and slid softly around to her ear. "Debbie I want you ... so much." She pulled away slightly and looked into his eyes. She could see the question in those green depths, and she smiled, slid her arms around him again and answered with a kiss.

Debbie was no virgin, but this was something different from all previous experiences. No cramped, awkward fumbling in the back seat of a car, no hasty coupling on the sofa keeping an eye out for parents returning home, nor yet the quiet careful maneuvering on a squeaky single bed carefully in case the other occupants of the share house could hear.

This was the sheer luxury of two people with no pressure, no disturbances, and all the time in the world. Clothes were shed and slid off the crisp sheets to land in casual heaps on the clean dark floor. Harry's body looked as good as it felt, all firm and sinewy, hard and lean and all male. As hands and lips explored uncharted territory their bodies became as entwined as their tongues had been.

Now that they were skin on skin the strange tingling that she associated with touching Harry seemed to engulf her, every touch, every caress was so intense, the pleasure so profound. She could feel Harry's body hard and hot against her, she could hear Harry sighing and panting, she could smell and taste Harry, his unique scent of musk and leather and something she could not quite describe. She was drowning in Harry, drowning and it didn't matter, as it was the most magnificent experience of her life.