Consequences

Chapter 14: Want

It’s odd really, having a whole afternoon to myself with nothing to do. Nothing but sleep and read and wallow. Not in my usual self-pitying way either, but wallowing completely in the feeling of his lips on mine. It’s been hours, I know, but the thought of it still makes me shiver. And I’ve had this stupid grin on my face for so long my cheeks hurt.

It’s a nice way to spend the day. But it’s not exactly productive. Should probably have been sleeping, since I know I will be up all night. No matter how much I tried though, sleep just wouldn’t come. I’m far too giddy. I did get a letter from Dumbledore under my door at about four o’clock, detailing what it is exactly I’m doing this evening. Apparently, I am going to the west coast of Ireland, to Clare Island more specifically. We are to bring a package from Dumbledore with us. A representative from an ancient order of warlocks will meet us there. We are to give him the package and wait for a response. Not exactly a taxing assignment, but the Order rarely sends its members out alone. So I have a partner for this evening. I’ll be heading to Eire with Charlie. Should be interesting ...

As I read Dumbledore’s letter two more bits of paper came fluttering out of the fireplace at me. The first said “The emerald beacon shines for those who wish to seek it, lift the light to enter O’Malley’s cottage.” The second was a corner of paper that looked like an advert torn from a Muggle newspaper. In a neat font was printed. “Single Halibut and Chips.” After committing both to memory I threw them back into the flames, and watched as they disintegrated.

Suppose I should get dressed and find something to eat. It looks to be a gorgeous day outside so I settle on cotton trousers, a black tee shirt, boots, my usual coat and of course, sunglasses. After ramming a change of clothes and a few other necessities into a canvas bag I head downstairs, hoping for a cup of tea and something to nibble on.

*

Molly is in the kitchen when I enter and dinner is cooking. It’s nearly six.

‘Wotcher, Molly.’

‘I was hoping perhaps you would be down soon,’ she says brightly. ‘That I’d see you before you left.’

‘Did you need a hand with anything?’

She smiles at me and shakes her head. ‘No dear, but I thought you and I might have a chat. Just us girls.’

Oh, God.

‘Sure,’ I answer, not quite knowing why I’m so agreeable all of a sudden. ‘That would be nice.’

‘Splendid. Why don’t you go and have a seat near the fire and I’ll fetch us a sweet and something hot to drink.’

What’s going on? Am I just about to have a girly chat with Molly? Am I mad?

Must be, because I sit in the squishy armchair at the hearthside and Molly joins me a few moments later, setting a tray on the small round table between us. Hot butterbeer, and bakewell tarts. What have I done? Molly lays her hands in her lap and just smiles at me. She looks pleased as punch, like she’s about to explode. ‘Well, help yourself dear,’ she says a little too enthusiastically. I’m a bit scared now. Pouring myself a mug, I pick up a tart and slip back into my chair. She doesn’t say anything, just keeps right on smiling.

‘What did you want to talk about, Molly?’

‘I just wanted to know how you’re keeping. How’s work?’

‘Busy,’ I reply, sipping my drink. ‘But you can say that about any Ministry job at the moment. It’s nice to have a day off.’

‘Mmmm. I can understand, poor Arthur is run off his feet. And how’s your work with the Order?’

‘It’s fine. Moody and I are a good team.’

‘He speaks very highly of you ... He’s out with Remus today.’

‘I know.’

‘He’s a good man.’

‘Yes, he’s a pussy cat really, that Mad-Eye, despite outward appearances.’ I smile, knowing full-well she hadn’t meant Moody.

‘Well, yes, he is. But I was actually speaking of Remus. He’s a good man.’

The stupid grin is back on my face. And for some reason I can’t give her the satisfaction of looking at her, instead, I feel inclined to stare at my tart. ‘I know, Molly.’

‘I couldn’t be happier for you.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I’m awfully fond of Remus and he couldn’t have found himself a sweeter girl.’

What? She can’t possibly be talking about me. I’m forced to look up at her now. ‘But you don’t like me.’

She looks a bit taken aback. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

All the glaring for a start.

‘When Charlie and I ...’

But she cuts across me. ‘It was never you I disliked, dear. It was just ... well, Charlie was the first of my children to really be serious about a girl. I just thought it was too soon. That he was too young. I know that’s a bit hypocritical of me, considering how young Arthur and I were. But Charlie’s my little boy. And I didn’t want to see him hurt. You were both so young ...’

I really have no idea what to say.

‘I’m sorry,’ she continues, ‘if I ever made you feel unwelcome.’

A little floored by this bit of news. But I nod. She leans forward and takes my hand.

‘Remus cares about you so much.’

‘Does he?’

‘Of course he does.’ She smiles sweetly. ‘Haven’t you noticed?’

‘Noticed?’

‘When you walk into a room his eyes never leave you.’

‘Really?’ Really?

‘Really. Ever since the day you were introduced.’

Gob-smacked again. That’s not possible. Am I a complete idiot?

‘I just wanted to know. Well ... times being such as they are, even if you’re really committed to someone ... it just may not be the best time ...’

What is she talking about now?

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I know I’m not your mother ...’ she continues, looking as if she’s choosing her words carefully, ‘and perhaps you would prefer talking to her about these things but in your profession and ... well children are a big responsibility ...’

Dear Lord, this is a contraception conversation!

Desperate to hed her off, I lean forward and wave my hands at her. ‘No. Molly ... Remus and I, it’s not like that. We ...’

‘I’m not judging you dear,’ she says her hand brushing my hair as she stands up. ‘He’s a good man. Just make sure you’re careful.’

I want to crawl into a hole.

‘Now,’ she says happily. ‘You probably want to be getting on. If you ever want talk or even if you’d like me to pick you up something from the apothecary, you need only to ask.’

‘Thanks, Molly,’ I say, trying to actually sound thankful.

‘Do you want to take another tart with you?’ she asks offering me the plate.

‘Sure, thanks.’ I take another and cramming it into my mouth so that I can’t possibly be expected to talk anymore, I pick up my bag and head out.

Is it bad of me to secretly wish she corners Remus for a similar chat? Why should I be the only one?

*

When you walk into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes you can’t help but be proud of Fred and George. The place is spectacular. It appears to be empty; a little late in the day for any real business, I suppose. There are several new items I haven’t noticed before, including a section for ladies only. Someone, maybe Fred, maybe George ... probably George, is trying to sneak up behind me. I’ll let him get within two feet.

‘Touch me and die, Weasley.’

‘Bollocks!’ comes the annoyed voice from behind me. I turn to find a disgruntled George. ‘How do you do that!’

‘I’m an Auror, I don’t work in the pie shoppe.’

‘Are you annoying the clientele again, Forge,’ a cheerful voice calls from the next room.

‘It’s not clientele, it’s just Tonks,’ George calls back.

Fred appears a moment later. ‘Hiya, Tonks. What can we do for you?’

‘Nothing actually, I’m just meeting ...’

The bell jingles as the front door opens again and Charlie walks in. He’s dressed in jeans, and a Chudley Canons jersey the colour of which makes his hair positively glow.’

‘Fred, George.’ He nods at his brothers. ‘Nymph, you ready to go?’

‘We didn’t even know you were in the country,’ Fred says, crossing to greet his brother properly.

‘Good to see you, mate,’ George adds, following suit.

‘Now where are you two off to?’ Fred asks.

‘We have a date,’ Charlie says with a slight smile.

‘What?’

A moment later a girl with dark hair comes sprinting through the front door. ‘I’m so sorry. Am I late?’ she asks, out of breath.

‘No, Verity,’ George smiles. ‘Lee just got here as well.’

‘Oh, good.’ She looks at Charlie and me, no doubt surprised to see us here.

‘Verity,’ says Fred politely, ‘this is ...’ But he doesn’t get to finish his introductions.

‘You’re Charlie Weasley,’ she says, looking rather star-struck.

Charlie smiles. ‘Guilty.’

She blushes a deep pink. ‘I was three years below you in school. My friend Erica and I used to watch you practice Quidditch all the time. We weren’t even in your house. And you’re Tonks, right?’ She turn s to me. ‘You were his girlfriend?’

‘That’s right.’ I’m rather surprised that anyone even remembers me.

‘Are you still together? Are you married now?’ she asks.

‘Gawd, no!’

It’s lucky we say it in unison because I would have hated to say it alone.

‘Really?’ She smiles at Charlie and casts her gaze to the floor. I know that look; I’ve seen that look a hundred times on a hundred girls. Charlie continues to grin at her, but I notice George is now wearing a bit of a glare.

‘We should get going.’ I poke Charlie’s shoulder to get his attention. ‘It was nice to meet you, Verity.’

‘Yeah, nice,’ Charlie agrees. Sliding my hand into his I give a good tug and he follows me out of the shop.

*

Portkey to Galway City, a Floo to Westport, and then a Muggle taxi. It’s nearly ten o’clock, dark and pouring with rain by the time we reach Roonagh Quay. ‘You sure you want out here?’ the driver turns to ask us for the third time this journey. ‘The ferry stopped running hours ago.’

‘It’s all right.’ I hand him the fare and slide out of the cab behind Charlie. ‘We told our friends we’d meet them here. I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.’

‘He’s probably going to call the Police,’ Charlie says, as we watch to taillights of the taxi disappear round the bend.

‘The Garda,’ I correct. ‘Suspicious activity.’

‘Where the hell did all this rain come from?’ he asks, running his hands through his now sopping wet hair.

I shiver. ‘It’s Ireland, Charlie, it’s not this green for nothing.’

‘Shut up.’

Hugging my jacket tighter about me, I turn to face the rather violent looking, sea. ‘So how are we getting to the island?’

‘We’re going to fly.’ He smirks at me. It’s a goading little smirk and I can’t help but want to smack it off him.

‘I don’t have a broom.’ I state the obvious.

He and raises his eyebrows. ‘I do.’

Charlie drops his rucksack to the ground at his feet, opens the small side pocket and slowly pulls out his broomstick.

‘And I was worried just stuffing my bag in the top was taking up too much room.’

‘You wouldn’t believe what I have in here.’ He hands me the bag and throws his leg over his broom. ‘You getting on?’

Slinging the rucksack over my shoulders I mount the broom behind him.

‘It’s been a couple months since I’ve been able to fly anywhere,’ he grins, ‘so hold on tight.’

I know what that means and I slide my arms around him and make sure my grip is tight. Charlie kicks off from the ground and we’re airborne. I haven’t been a passenger on a broom in years and I don’t think I’ve ridden behind Charlie since school. But I instantly remember the rides we used to take. Late nights over the eerie mist of the Forbidden Forest or early mornings as the sun rose over the Black Lake. He would take us high into the orange sky and then dive down to the water. I swear he remembers too as he suddenly shoots up, high over the rough sea. The sudden change in altitude, makes my stomach leap to my throat, makes me scream and bury my face in his shoulder. Charlie laughs wildly. ‘Hang on,’ he shouts back as we level off, and I do, as tightly as I can. Then we’re diving, spinning toward the water. It’s so cold and the rain cuts my skin like ice, but it’s brilliant; we’re free. He pulls up hard and propels us sideways about five feet from the surface of the water. I can’t stop laughing and neither can he as he rockets back up to the clouds for another go.

We continue our journey like this. Climbing to the clouds and diving to the sea. Occasionally spinning sideways like a top, just for fun. One thing’s for certain: it would be awfully hard for anyone to follow us like this. On our next ascent, lightning cracks the sky around us. Common sense should tell me not to fly in a storm; but it thrills me and I know it does Charlie.

I’ve been able to see the green beacon below that marks our destination for almost five minutes now and Charlie finally begins the descent toward the dim, magical, light. We land on a small outcropping of cliff near the water. The meeting spot. There is a lantern hanging from a peg in the cliff wall, sending out a soft green glow to those who seek it. The peg is adjacent to what looks like the remains of a old fishermen’s shack that has long since been swept into the sea. But I have only to lift the lantern from its peg and a wooden door appears in the cliff face, and then a large window beside it and what looks to be the start of a thatched roof. I look back at Charlie for a moment, replace the green light and tap my wand on the door. It swings open without me even muttering an incantation.

It’s pitch black.

‘Lumos.’ I see a lantern hanging on the wall before me and stumble in to reach it. Charlie holds his own wand aloft as I lift the glass cylinder and attempt to light the lamp. It sputters and spits a bit but finally decides to cooperate and I turn my self around in the small room. It’s about twelve foot by twelve foot and appears to be built from grey stone and ancient timber. A woodstove stands in the far corner, with wood piled to the ceiling beside it. A bed is built into the framework of the wall just beneath front window. It is dressed in white linen and old quilts are piled at the foot. There is half moon table with two old chairs pushed against the right-hand wall and another smaller lamp rests upon it. There’s a small door to the left of the table and I am relieved to discover that it leads to a rather basic bathroom; for a moment there I was afraid we’d have to run outside for a wee.

I light the second lamp and Charlie piles wood into the stove. The fire blazes a few moments later, and things begin to warm up. I hang my coat up on a hook by the front door. I’m soaked through, and so is he. Luckily, I did stuff my change of clothes into Charlie’s rucksack. Picking it up off the floor, I open it and retrieve the small canvas bag with my things in it. Lighting the small lantern, I pick it up from the table. ‘I’m going to change.’

He nods. ‘Good idea.’

I step into the little bathroom and shut the door. If I thought it was cold in the main room, it is absolutely freezing in here. When I take off my boots and peel off my socks I find the stone floor like ice on my bare feet, and I’m literally standing on my toes as I strip off my soaking clothes and hang them over the edge of the bath. I’ll dry them later. I just want to get warm. So cold now my teeth are chattering. Socks and trainers are the first things I pull from my bag and I pull the socks on thankfully. My jeans are next. Good thing my knickers are still dry, although my bra is wet. But I can just dry that and put it back on. As I undo the clasp and slip it off over my shoulders, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

It still makes me want to cry. That hideous mark that covers most of my left breast and part of my shoulder. It looks horrible in the dim light of the lamp. It looks horrible, full stop. They told me it would fade over time. But how much time does it need?

Shutting my eyes, I concentrate, trying to see if I can lighten it. The familiar tingling feeling moves through my shoulder and my chest, but when I open my eyes I see only a slight improvement; pink rather than red. I wish I could make it go white, or make it disappear entirely. And still remain myself that is. I can change it, move it, reshape it, but only if I reshape myself entirely. I don’t want to do that. I have never been anything but myself with the men I’ve been with. Not that there have been that many; Charlie, Jon and that one stupid-awful night with Adrian. Do I even have to count him?

If I want what I think I want, Remus will have to know. He’ll see it. What will he say? God, what will he think? I’ve never really considered myself a vain person, but ... that mark ... it makes me feel lesser. ... Penance, I suppose.

‘You all right in there?’ Charlie calls through the door.

‘Yeah, fine. Be out in a sec.’

I pull my top on quickly not bothering with my bra; it’s not as if I’m in desperate need of one anyway. I’m just thankful to have sleeves I can pull my hands into. Pushing my feet into my trainers, I cast a quick drying charm over the clothes I have hanging over the bath, run my fingers thorough my hair and leave the bathroom.

Charlie has changed too. Into dry jeans and a navy tee shirt. He sits at the half moon table, a tall silver flask and two mugs in front of him. ‘Would you like a mug of chocolate?’

‘Love one, I’m freezing.’

‘I see that.’ Charlie grins, looking me directly in the chest.

‘Stop it!’ I immediately cross my arms in front of me.

‘Can’t help it. They’re right there.’

‘Perv.’

Charlie leans down to the rucksack at his feet, pulls out his Aran sweater and chucks it at me. ‘Here, put that on.’ I pull it over my head and am instantly warmer. With one final shiver I sit opposite him and let him pour me a mug of hot chocolate. ‘Just wait a little bit ‘til that fire gets going, it’s going to get very hot in here.’

‘Don’t care, I’d rather be hot than cold.’ I wrap my hands around the mug, drawing heat from it. There is a silence between us, not an uncomfortable one, but noticeable.

‘So how’ve you been? You all right?’ he asks cautiously, looking at me over the brim of his mug.

‘Yes. I’m all right.’

‘No more sleeping draft?’ He looks me directly in the eye to ask that question, suppose he needs to be sure.

I shake my head. ‘No.’

‘Honestly?’

‘Honestly. I haven’t. Haven’t even thought about it. Not since I knocked on your door ...’

‘Good. Good ...’ He nods, looking relieved. ‘I’m sorry I’m not there for you more. Sorry I reacted like I did. You have to understand ... That night, when you took the treble dose ... you had me shit scared. I thought you were going to die. You looked like you were going to die.’ He runs his fingers through his hair and looks away. I find myself taking his hand, turning it palm up in my own and brushing my thumb over the shiny round scar in the centre.

‘I’m sorry, Charlie. Really, I am. So sorry that any of that ever happened. Please believe me when I say, I never meant it to.’

He nods and looks back at me. ‘I do. Still, I’d like to be there for you more.’

‘I’m okay.’

He takes a long sip of his drink and glances around the cottage as if looking for his next words. ‘Bill is not bad to talk to. When he’s not acting like a pompous arse.’

‘I know.’ I smile at him.

‘And you’ve got Remus, don’t you? I mean, you and he, you’re close?’

‘Yes.’ I reply, looking down at my drink, desperately hoping I’m not blushing.

But if I am he doesn’t notice. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘I’m glad you have people you can talk to.’

A sound not unlike a ship’s siren suddenly cuts the night. The warning signal. We both leap to our feet and clamber to the window, kneeling on the bed. There is a light drifting across the choppy water, an orange glow just visible now in the raging storm. Someone’s coming. Pulling my coat off the hook and wrapping it around my shoulders, I slide my wand into my sleeve. Charlie is digging in the rucksack once more, this time for the package we are to deliver for Dumbledore.

A round, old man comes into view carrying an orange lantern. He wears a large blue mackintosh, a great big hat and red wellington boots. It’s a bit comical and he instantly reminds me of that bear in those Muggle stories Dad would read me. I’d swear the old man is a Muggle. But ... well, he came in an obviously magical boat, and he’s carrying an obviously magical lantern. But he hasn’t got a wand. Or he has seen no reason to produce it. He pulls a bit of paper from his top pocket and reads it. A few moments later he reaches to touch the green light; there’s knock at the door.

Charlie answers the door with me right behind him. My wand in my hand now; just in case.

‘What’ll it be?’ Charlie asks.

‘Single halibut and chips,’ replies the old man, as if ordering in a restaurant.

‘Good evening, sir.’ Charlie smiles. He hands the old man a parcel, wrapped neatly in crisp brown paper and tied with white string. The old man fumbles in his pocket for a moment before removing a plastic shopping bag and holding it out for Charlie to drop the parcel into. ‘Keep it dry anyway,’ he mumbles, twisting the top.

‘Yeah,’ Charlie agrees. ‘It’s a hell of a storm.’

‘Aye.’ The old man nods. ‘I’ll be back in the morning with the answer.’ He scrambles back down to the boat and a few minutes later it’s gone, I can’t even see the lantern anymore. Shutting the door, I turn to face Charlie.

‘Guess, that’s it. Odd, wasn’t he?’

‘Yeah,’

‘I wonder where the boat came from. There are so many little islands.’

‘Could be from anywhere. Even the mainland, just to throw us off.’

‘True.’

‘If he’s not coming back ‘til morning, we should probably get some sleep. No one’s getting near without that blasted siren going off again. And we’re Unplottable.’

‘I know. Are you trying to reassure the Auror?’

‘A bit.’ He grins and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling the rucksack into his lap. ‘Come on, Mum packed a biscuit tin in here somewhere and I dunno ‘bout you but I’m hungry.’

‘You’re always hungry.’ Picking up our mugs and the flask from the table I sit beside him. He drops the rucksack to the floor once he has recovered a square red tin. Kicking off my shoes, I move backward on the bed, closer to the window. Charlie follows. I set the mugs on the window ledge, pour more chocolate from the flask, handing Charlie his mug, before settling back, leaning against the headboard with my own. The open tin lays on the bed between us. Chocolate biscuits and rock cakes. With sultanas.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Charlie asks.

I shake my head. ‘Your mum makes the best rock cakes. I love sultanas.’

‘I prefer the biscuits myself. Aren’t you hot?’

Actually, yes. The fire has made the room very warm and drinking hot chocolate is proving to me that I am indeed extremely hot. Setting my mug back on the window ledge, I pull the sweater over my head and chuck it to the foot of the bed.

‘I see the girls have sorted themselves out.’ He grins and looks straight ahead. He gets an elbow that almost makes him spill his drink. We both laugh.

I miss this: sitting, shoulder to shoulder like we used to when we were kids. Before hormones and real life took over and ruined everything.

I miss him.

I don’t miss the arguing. I hated that. I don’t miss what would erupt over a simple “your place or mine?”

“I’m training ...” was always my reason. “We’ve just discovered ...” was always his. And it would break down from there. Into a fight over whose job was more important. I can admit now to being more than a little arrogant in that respect. Stupid really, when all we wanted was to be together.

It’s strange how things turn out. It’s strange to sit here like this, after all these years. I do love the man who sits beside me. I’ve loved him for more than half my life. It seems odd to think that. But it’s true. Even when I wanted to hate him, I never could.

‘You finished?’ Charlie asks, nodding toward my mug.

‘Yeah, thanks.’

He takes it from me and sends it, the flask and the red tin, across to the table. Letting myself slip down the headboard I sink to the pillow. More tired than I thought. A moment later Charlie joins me.

He rolls on his side toward me. ‘You tired?’

‘Yes. You?’

‘Mmmmhmm,’ he mutters. ‘If this fellow comes back and if we’re up early enough, I want to fly again tomorrow. Will you come with me?’

‘Of course. I’d love to.’

‘Good,’ he grins. ‘Didn’t scare you at all, did I?’

I nod. ‘Yes, you did and it was brilliant.’ Charlie waves his wand to snuff the big lantern, and a moment later the little one is hovering over us before alighting on hook on the bedpost.

‘Nymph?’ Charlie’s fingertips brush my collar.

‘Yes.’

‘There’s a sucky mark on your neck.’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say rolling on my side away from him, trying desperately to hide the stupid grin that immediately returned upon mention of my love-bite.

‘Course you do. That’s what the smile’s for.’ He pulls himself up onto his elbow and leans over me. ‘Nymph ... have you got yourself a boyfriend?’

I shake my head. ‘No.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s an option. And one I’ve ... erm given a bit of thought to for you, I might add.’

Another elbow. ‘Sod off.’

‘Do you at least fancy the bloke?’

‘I do.’ I just can’t stop smiling.

‘Does he fancy you?’

‘I think so. Hope so.’ Hope so.

‘All right then. Well done you.’ Charlie nods and rolls onto his back. There is more silence.

‘Charlie?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘You all right?’

‘Yeah. Jealous though.’

‘Jealous?’ My turn to turn over this time. Don’t really know if he’s being serious or not.

‘I know I don’t really have a right to be, but I am. Course I am. It’s you. Think I’ll always be a bit jealous of anyone who has you.’ He winks at me and I feel a sudden rush of blood to my cheeks.

‘Who said he has me?’

‘So he hasn’t had you?’ He’s grinning now. ‘Is he going to?’

‘Shut up. It’s none of your business.’

‘Please?’

‘No! And what about you? How’s your girlfriend?’

‘Who says I have a girlfriend?’

‘Charlie, you always have a girlfriend.’

‘Well there’s girls I see.’

‘Any one you see more than others?’

‘Well, yes, Susan.’

‘Susan? Sounds nice.’

‘She’s in Prague this week with her fiancé.’

‘Charlie!’ I thump him on the chest. Can’t help it, it’s well deserved.

‘I know, you don’t have to tell me.’ He shakes his head. ‘ Fuckwit.’

‘You’re impossible.’

I roll onto my back and snuff the light above our heads. Lightning cracks the sky around us, briefly lighting our little room. The rain pelts the windows and I watch it slide down the glass in the moonlight. Charlie rolls over and throws a heavy arm over me. ‘Aren’t you glad you got rid of me?’ he asks jokingly.

Not really.

‘Do you think we could have made it work, Charlie?’ I ask the window.

‘Dunno. Sometimes I like to think so. I could have moved back to England.’

‘And done what? Moved into my flat? Got a desk job at the Ministry?’

‘Sure.’

‘You’d’ve been miserable and you know it. I can’t imagine you in a city, let alone behind a desk. I see what it’s done to Bill.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asks, suddenly a bit more interested.

‘I know he wants to be there for the Order and for Fleur. And I know he loves her, but ... but whenever there is something to do for the Order, something even remotely dangerous, it’s always Bill that jumps in. He wants it. Needs the rush. Dunno how much longer he can last with the ledgers and runes. He’s an adrenaline junkie just like you.’

‘And you,’ Charlie adds.

‘Suppose.’

He laughs and his arm around me tightens. ‘This bloke you fancy, at least tell me he’s a decent fellow.’

‘He is. I think you’d like him.’

‘Don’t need to like him. In fact, I already hate him,’ he chuckles against my ear and kisses the side of my face. Makes me laugh. ‘I do love you, Nymph; always will.’

‘I know. I love you too, Charlie.’

He doesn’t say any more and soon I hear him breathing slow and even. He’s asleep.

I close my eyes to the rain on the window, and allow my mind to wander.

Does he miss me tonight? Or is he glad to have his bed to himself again?

It’s nice here, listening to the waves and the storm, watching the rain on the window made beautiful by the bright light of moon. Waning Gibbous? I need to read more. I’m warm and dry and safe and more comfortable sleeping beside Charlie than I have been in years. It was a good night.

But ... I long to smell sandalwood soap, to feel prickly stubble on the back of my neck and soft breath in my ear. To have Remus’s long fingers trace up my spine and down over my ribs. If I concentrate I can almost feel it. It makes me shiver. I want to feel how I felt last night. Was it only last night?

I want to feel the way I felt when he pulled me over him. When I twisted my fingers through his hair, when I let my lips drift down his neck to the hollow of his throat. I want to hear him make that sound again. I want to feel his hands grip my hips like they did. I want to feel the strength of his arousal on my hip and realise again, for the first time, that it’s me doing that to him. I want feel his hands in my hair. I want his lips against mine. I want to feel weak knees. I want time to stand still. I want, I want, I want ...

*