Magic, Fairy Tales and Happy Ever After

Magic, Fairy Tales and Happy Ever After

Chapter 6

Perth was a very windy city, and that was never more obvious than at this time of year. During winter the gales howled up from the south with a chill force that spoke eloquently of snow and ice.

Kelly loved it when the wind blew. He ran madly round the park chasing leaves, bits of grass, even the wind itself. Debbie wasn't so keen. She stood huddled in her coat, her face frozen, keeping a close eye on her crazy canine companion. Harry also loved it when the wind blew, but he had been away this week, unable to join them on their evening ramble.

The dull grey light was fading quickly as she rounded up her charge and started to walk briskly back to the apartment.

She sighed. In the last year her life had changed a lot. Oh, she was still studying and still playing mother to an overgrown ball of fur, but now there was Harry.

Harry the wizard? Now there was love and magic in her life. Real magic.

As she walked back through the streets of Subi, she shook her head at the strange turn that her life had taken.

Most of the time it was easier to pretend that it wasn't true, that Harry was just a very special guy with an uncanny knack for getting things done quickly. And he certainly seemed to prefer her taking that perspective.

After the initial explanation, he was never the one to raise the subject, although he answered all her questions honestly and without demur. Magic, while not ignored, was not to be considered a dominant part of their life. Not overtly anyway.

But still, Debbie had a problem with the idea. Especially when trying to explain what her partner did for a living. After some thought and discussion, they had settled on 'contract security work'. Most people seemed to be happy with that. But Debbie herself still felt a little odd describing it that way.

If she let herself think about the subject more deeply, which she tried to avoid, it scared her. She wasn't scared of Harry because he was a wizard; no, she was scared for him, because of his mission in life and his casual approach to it, as if pursuing evil and protecting the innocent was an ordinary everyday job like house painting or bus driving.

As she approached her front door she could hear music playing. He must be home. She had asked him once whether it was safe for him to just live in an ordinary suburb like they did. He had explained to her that no magical person would see their apartment, but she could not quite figure out how that worked, and the fear of unknown watchers haunted her quiet moments.

She opened the door. Kelly charged through first; she followed, reveling in the warmth and light after the cold dark evening outside.

Harry and Kelly were greeting each other enthusiastically, as always. As she shut the door behind her, he looked up, smiling. That smile always made her feel that everything was alright; that no matter what, she was protected and loved. If only he was always there, then she wouldn't worry.

"Hello, gorgeous, I'm home." He stood up and held out his arms.

"I can see that," she said, as she drew herself into his embrace, the safest place in the world.

Harry had been home long enough to have prepared dinner, which was sitting on the table waiting for them, hot and steaming. Harry had tried to explain how he knew where she was and how he knew exactly when she would be home, but once again, the explanation made no sense. Yes, there were extra hands and dials on his watch, but she could not see clearly what they said.

When Harry was home for the evening not much studying got done. It was not that he demanded her total attention; it just seemed the natural way of things. There was always plenty of time to attend to study, friends and family on the many nights when he was away.

After the dinner was eaten and the dishes stacked in the dishwasher, Kelly snoring in front of the fire, Harry led her up the stairs to the bedroom, took her in his arms and proceeded without words to eloquently express how much he had missed her.

Reunion nights were the best, lying in the warm bed, with the cold wind howling outside. She had to agree with the song swirling out of the speakers; there really was no better aphrodisiac than loneliness. She did not think she could ever get bored with her magical lover. He made her feel so alive, so real.

"This is almost perfect," he said. She looked up at him through half opened eyes. Harry was stretched out lazily on one side beside her on their bed, his head propped up on one hand, the other draped in a gesture of casual possessiveness across her naked hip.

She smiled up at him. "What d'you mean, 'almost'? Good company, good food, good sex. What more could you ask for?"

He looked down, watching as his hand started to idly stroke her skin. "What would make this perfect," he paused and glanced quickly at her face, "would be if we had a family."

The words sunk in. She sat bolt upright, suddenly wide-awake, shaking his hand free in the process. "I don't think so!"

Harry's face started to darken, like a swift cloud passing across the sun. "But you knew I wanted children. And I thought you did too." He stood up swiftly and moved away towards the window.

She followed, tentatively resting one hand on his shoulder. "I do," she said. "Eventually. But not yet. We're still both so young. I haven't even finished my studies. There is so much to do together, just the two of us, and then there's your work ..."

He spun around so fast that she staggered back with the force of her arm being flung off his shoulder, stopping awkwardly against the edge of the bed. He loomed over her, his face angry and contorted.

"My work," he hissed, "is not a consideration. I do what I do. That is not going to change." He stepped forward, she tried to shrink back but he grabbed her wrists in his hard unyielding grasp. "Damn it, Debbie. I don't really see that I'm asking too much." He pushed her down on the bed and stood back arms out, fists clenched. "All I want is a home and a family, like any normal person."

She sat up, her wrists stinging; they would bruise for sure. "Face it though, Harry. You're not a normal person."

The words hung in the room for an age, as if time were suspended. He moved so fast, she didn't see the slap coming until it hit the side of her face full force, knocking her off the bed and into a graceless heap on the floor. She lay there in pain and shock, not daring to look up, too stunned to cry.

"Bloody hell, Debbie. I'm sorry, so sorry." Harry's voice was cracking. As his hand touched her shoulder, she shrank from it.

She could hear a muffled sob above her. She looked up at him, feeling numb. He had slumped down on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands. As she watched he started to sob brokenly.

What could she do? What could she say? She stood up slowly, still a little shaky, grabbed her dressing gown and headed for the door.

"Don't leave."

"I'm only going to the bathroom," she muttered.

Any intelligible response was lost in a torrent of tears.

When she walked back into the bedroom he had not moved. She stood in the doorway, just watching him cry.

Eventually he turned his face towards her, tear stained and grief stricken, and tentatively reached out a hand. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I never meant to ..."

The pain and genuine remorse on his face undid her. Now she knew what they meant by heart ache; it was what she was feeling right at this moment. She sat next to him on the edge of the bed, held out her arms and they clung to each other as if letting go would be to fall into a deep chasm.

"Believe me, Debbie, I never meant to hurt you ... I love you," he said at last, "but you just made me so mad."

Debbie felt stirrings of guilt and shame. Could it really be her fault? He obviously was suffering because of it. But she was the one with the bruises.

"It's okay," she said, "I'm sorry too," as she gently kissed his scar.