The Book Of Jude

Disclaimer: All characters and situations associated with the Harry Potter series are property of J. K. Rowling and various publishers including, but not limited to Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement was intended and no money is being made from this innocent little bit of fiction. Characters that you do not recognize are my property and if you see them wandering around, please send them home.

Author's Note: Please read author's note from previous chapter, as it is integral to understanding this story. This is an Alternate Universe involving a character of my own creation, chronicling the events spanning the years 1971 (the year Jude was born) to the present (includes the plot of Rowling's books and my own plot after Goblet of Fire). Thanks for reading and I hope I have assuaged all confusion.

Chapter Two: Content

`That undisturbed song of pure content...' John Milton, A Solemn Music, Line 6

The late afternoon sun was slowly sinking over the horizon, depriving the town only of its light--its warmth had failed to penetrate the biting cold of the day. She raised her shoulders to her ears in an attempt to shield them from the biting wind. Her gloved hands were balled up and shoved into the pockets of her coat, and her chin was buried in the folds of her woolen scarf. Still, the relentless wind pursued her down the empty street. It was late December and most of the students had gone home for Christmas or were off on holiday. The cold was keeping everyone else off of the street. It wasn't as cold here as it had been this time of year at Hogwarts, she remembered. Still the wind was bitter cold and she hurried on to her destination--a cozy and warm café by the name of Adda's on the corner of Elm and Eden Street. It was a Friday night, and even with the lack of a student population milling about the town, Adda still expected to pull in a descent-sized crowd of locals, and Adda would need her help.

The sky was heavy with the puffy clouds that foretold of snow, although none of the fluffy white stuff had fallen yet today. She had been making her way back from the Chapel at King's College, where she had been enjoying the sublime voices of a choir, as they raised their melodious offerings to heaven. This was one of her favorite pastimes: playing the part of a hidden spectator along with the heralding angels that adorned the vaulted ceiling of the chapel while the choir rehearsed. The ethereal music filling the beautiful spaces of the fifteenth century chapel created a small Eutopia, in which she was allowed to forget, at least for an hour, everything that she wanted to forget. Unfortunately, that hour had ended forty minutes ago. She had never succeeded in finding such a sanctuary at Hogwarts--often times, she had to rely on books read in any quiet corner she could discover to distract her mind. She was thankful, still, for the solitude that had prompted her to read so much--the stores of knowledge that she had gleaned from those books had been of infinite help to her. And now, it was even her field of study at Cambridge, where for four months now she had been excelling in Literature.

She rounded the corner and was greeted by the golden glow of the lights in the windows. She smiled gratefully and pulled open the door.

A dog barked in salutation and ran excitedly to greet her.

"Hullo, Darcy." She patted the black-and-tan hound's head. The dog contentedly resumed its seat on a warm rug. Jude pulled off her coat, scarf and gloves and replaced the lot with an apron.

"Jude, what are you doing back so early, dear?" Adda called to her from over the counter. The café was deserted except for a couple in the far corner. "You don't have to be back for another hour." Jude smiled and walked over to Adda, grabbed a towel to clean the tables.

"I was bored, and it's ruddy cold," she replied, wiping down the first table. The truth of the matter was that she'd had enough of thinking. She wanted to be busy, to use her hands, to occupy her mind in some other way than brooding.

"And you just couldn't stay away from me, isn't that right, Love--don't lie, now." A shaggy, brown head popped up from behind a pile of sound equipment and flashed Jude a rakish smile.

"Right, Rhys," Jude laughed as she swatted the man with her towel. "I couldn't bear to be away for another minute," she sighed over dramatically.

Rhys chuckled and resumed setting up for the night's performance. Rhys Mallory was Jude's roommate and friend--a musician who played most Friday nights at Adda's. He played his guitar at other venues around the small college town, but this was by far his favorite spot. He also worked for Adda when he was not playing, running deliveries for the elderly woman for next to nothing. A selfless act, no doubt for he didn't need the money. He enjoyed helping Adda out. And Adda frequently teased Jude that Rhys got a bit more from hanging around the shop than just the boy-scout satisfaction of humoring an old woman. Jude would simply blush and shake her head, denying it all.

"So, you coming with me to the Free Press to cheer the mates on after my sets or do I have to beg you again? You know you can't pass up beer and rugby!" Rhys called to Jude with a guitar pick protruding from his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at Jude in an imploring--and rather attractive--manner. After no response from Jude, he began to sing. "Oh, come on Jude, don't be a dull prude. I'm a groovy dude, so come and buy me food." Rhys had begun strumming his guitar while fabricating the lines of a song by which to induce Jude to accompany him to the local--the Free Press--after his gig. Jude could only laugh--Rhys was always making up odd, asinine little songs, some of which he actually had the nerve to play in front of an audience. One of her favorites was `The Blue Plastic Cup In Which Resides My Soul'. Jude had to admire his easy confidence in himself--which sometimes resembled mild conceit rather closely.

"If Adda doesn't need the help." Jude resumed wiping the tables down. Rhys raised an inquiring brow in Adda's direction, enlisting her aid.

"Oh, you know well enough I can handle this place on my own," Adda consented and smiled as Rhys winked at her. "You don't need my permission. Go, have a good time." Jude's wry smile in his direction was his assurance that she would not put up a fight.

When she had first met Rhys and his beloved Darcy, she immediately fell into a comfortable and easy relationship with both as a friend, co-worker and roommate. She did almost everything with Rhys--they went to the same pubs, enjoyed walking through the town with Darcy, standing on the Silver Street Bridge and mercilessly berating the boaters--mostly aristocratic males, cocky and arrogant--as they did a poor job of navigating their vessels downstream.

Naturally, Jude found Rhys handsome and absolutely suited to her tastes in every way. However, she had decided that no matter what inclination she may feel toward Rhys, she would never allow their relationship to move beyond the realm of friendship. She could never tell him the truth about her--about her past. And she could not enter into a serious relationship with someone who didn't even really know who and what she was.

Within the first month of their meeting, it was clear to Jude that Rhys was as much attracted to her as she was to him, and she couldn't guess the reason for that in the slightest. He had, on several occasions, attempted to persuade her to become closer than a friend. But she could not allow that to happen--for both of their sakes. He would have to be content with her friendship--that was all that she had to offer him. To her relief, he had accepted this, and they had settled into a comfortable relationship as the best of friends.

***

The crowd had poured in, as predicted--although significantly smaller due to the weather. It had indeed begun to snow, but not hard enough to keep even the most reclusive hermit home on a Friday night. A few students had, as had Rhys and Jude, remained in town for the holidays. Rhys, like Jude, had nowhere else to go. This was their home now. He had told her, soon after their meeting, that he had lost his parents at the age of eleven and had been raised by his grandfather, who had also passed on a few years ago. Darcy and Adda had become his family--and Jude was now included. However, Jude could not think of anywhere else she would rather be than here and she was sure that Rhys was equally content not to have anywhere else to spend his holidays.

After Rhys had played numerous songs--old favorites and new creations--and after Jude and Adda had served an indeterminable amount of coffee, the crowd began to thin and closing time approached. Friday nights when Rhys played at Adda's were always crowded. Rhys had numerous fans who were exceedingly fond of his humorous methods of composition--mostly girls with limited amounts of interest in music and much more interest in a certain dashing musician. Still, he was talented and drew in a good-sized crowd of people who were actually there to enjoy his music.

As the last couple filtered through the door, Rhys had finished packing away the rest of his equipment and bent to receive his praise from Darcy. The dog responded enthusiastically to her owner's voice, licking his face in happy delight.

"You enjoyed my songs, didn't you, darling?" he cooed to his dog.

"No, actually," Jude interrupted the touching scene, "she told me yesterday that she despises overconfident, under talented guitarists. She prefers classical cellists."

Rhys mimicked pulling a large knife from his chest and looked at Jude with sorrow-filled eyes. "Here, I believe this is yours." He mimed handing her the invisible weapon. "A classical cellist--please. My doggy-woggy is no poufster!" he exclaimed, ruffling Darcy's fur. He refused to take the bate in Jude's statement.

"No, she's no poufster, but you are!" she teased, while removing her apron and pulling on her coat, winding her scarf around her neck. "Doggy-woggy?" She said, raising her eyebrows. She wished desperately that she could pull off the one eyebrow thing that was so handsomely executed by Rhys, but that skill was beyond her.

"I'm no poufster!" he retorted indignantly while tugging on his coat and hat. He grabbed Darcy's leash off of the coat rack and clasped it to her collar. "No, I'm just three years old." He grinned like a misbehaving child.

"Tell me about it," Jude said, rolling her eyes and reaching for the door handle. "Be back soon, Adda!" she yelled to the back of the store where the old woman had retreated after seeing her last customers to the door.

***

The Free Press was a local's pub located a block from Adda's and behind the Police Station. Jude came here most late nights with Rhys--after his gigs at various bars around town like the Anchor, the Mill and others. She loved his company: they seemed to share the same love of people watching--which was merely making fun of everyone whose misfortune it was to pass within their sight. The rich and cocky chaps around school were their favorite targets. These guys would show up in whatever pub Rhys and Jude were at and try their luck with every girl in sight. Some were quite good at the game, but most were hopelessly wretched at it--yet both were equally fun to laugh at. They also loved rugby and never missed an opportunity to cheer their boys on over a pint.

Rhys opened the door for Jude and Darcy, who entered and shook the snow from their coats. Jude loosened the scarf around her neck and led Darcy to a table in the corner while Rhys went to fetch the beers.

"Hullo, Gabe!" Rhys greeted the barkeep like an old friend--which was exactly what he was. "Two," he said and Gabe handed him two glasses of dark brown liquid.

"Jude, here then?" Gabe asked and Rhys nodded. "Tell `er, `Hullo' from me. And that your boys don't stand a chance tonight--not against these chaps." Gabe shoved his towel in the direction of the television. "Brutal, these boys are." He returned to wiping the bar down while watching the two teams run head first into one another in a battle for a small, brown ball.

"Thanks," Rhys mumbled, equally enthralled in the screen as he tried to make his way back to Jude, beer in hand, without looking at where he was going.

Jude took a seat in her usual booth while Darcy curled up at her feet, relishing the warmth of the familiar pub. She hadn't been there for five seconds before a dashing blond in a rugby jersey and brown trousers confidently strode over to her and flashed her a smile.

"Saw you from across the room," the man said to Jude and stooped by her seat. He reached a hand out to pat Darcy on the head and she accepted the attention without discrimination. "Nice dog you've got here."

"Oh," she thought, "the `I'm interested in your dog' angle--how original."

"I'm Jeff, and you are?" he directed this question to Darcy.

"Wow, you gotta hand it to him," she mused, very diverted by this unexpected amusement, "I'll bet anything he prepared this one ahead of time." She only wished that Rhys could be here to partake in the enjoyment. "Her name is Darcy," she conceded finally, an incredulous smirk crossing her lips.

"Darcy, what a lovely name." He complemented the indifferent dog at Jude's feet. "Well, you have a very charming owner, Darcy. Your very lucky." The blonde smiled up at Jude with a practiced look of suavity.

"Thanks!" Rhys said, having come up behind the man without drawing his notice. "I must say you are quite charming yourself." The man jumped to his feet and, startled, turned to face Rhys as Jude attempted unsuccessfully to stifle a snicker.

"Oh, so she's yours then." The man tried to regain his composure.

"Yup. She's mine all mine," He said with a lopsided grin that put any hopes of competition from the man's head. He set the beers on the table and took a seat. "Have a drink with us, mate. We could chat about dogs." He was shameless.

"Well, I would, but...I have to go." He smiled awkwardly and turned on his heels and fled.

"Aw. You scared him away, Rhys. I was having fun with him." Jude pretended to pout. "He was the best one I've seen in here so far. You should have heard him. He could have given you lessons." She smiled good-naturedly at her friend.

"Heard, `im, Love. He said I was charming." He took a long swig from his glass.

"You've been accused of worse." She smiled and took a drink.

They both settled into the cozy booth to watch their boys battle with ruthless bullies who used every dirty trick in the book. She thought it very odd that she should love to watch rugby as much as she did. During her years at school she'd never followed the most popular sport known to her classmates--Quidditch. She'd never attended a game, and wasn't even sure of how to play the sport. She knew it was like football on brooms--sort of. Her presence at the game was never missed--and she'd rather read or explore the grounds without the interruptions of the hoards of other students around the castle. Plus, she would not have felt in the least bit comfortable being surrounded by scores of children who taunted her on a regular basis--in an overly rowdy environment, nonetheless.

But here, with Rhys and Darcy, watching her team mercilessly whomp these Nancies at rugby was more than comfortable and familiar. She loved her new life and it made the separation from the select few at Hogwarts who had actually cared for her bearable. As she watched him, enthralled in the game, she wanted to tell him this. To let him know how much he meant to her. Just exactly what he meant to her. He was her salvation. Yet she couldn't. How on earth does one go about disclosing something like this, she mused as the boys took possession of the ball. "Rhys, you'll never believe this, but I went to school in a castle. Yeah, I learned magic there. Oh, and before that..." she thought. Yes, pleasant pub conversation, that was. He'd probably suggest she check into a mental ward.

Still, he didn't need to know. Not now. Maybe not ever. She never wanted to have to explain her life to anyone else. She was done with that. This was a new start. For her and for him. He'd told her only a bit of his past, and she didn't push the issue. It seemed that neither of them wanted to remember who they were. And that was just fine with her. To her, he was perfect. More than perfect. And she was fine with the way things were between them. This was more than she could have ever asked for. Definitely more than she deserved. But as she looked at him, she was hit with the realization that even if she didn't deserve more than this cozy friendship, he did. And that realization brought the familiar ache to her chest, constricting, like she couldn't breathe. She wanted to be selfish for once in her life. She wanted him with her always, never needing to reveal all of her dirty secrets to him. She wanted everything to stay like this, this blissful moment, forever. Just friends watching a game, drinking a pint--nothing scary, nothing painful, nothing to feel guilty over. If nothing, from here to the end of her life, were to change, she believed she could be happy for once.

"What's the matter, Love?" Rhys asked curiously, noticing her distracted, tense silence.

Quickly she brought her attention back to him. Shaking her head and affecting an unconcerned smile, she answered, "Nothing...just thinking." "Oh yeah? How's that going?" he jabbed, laughing.

"Ha, ha," she mocked him incredulously.

He put an arm lazily around her shoulders in a conciliatory manner. "What're you thinking about?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Liar," he said, amused. "You were thinking about something."

She wrinkled her brow and frowned at him. "Oh, yeah? And you're some kind of authority on me?"

"Love, I don't think someone like that exists. You're still the enigma you were when I met you. You're safe." He took another drink and looked at her seriously. "You know how I know you were thinking of something? You were frowning again. You always do that, you know."

"Do I?" she said, uninterested, wanting to change the subject.

"Yep," he answered casually. "So what was it?"

"Nothing...just things I'd rather forget, alright?" she said tensely.

He smiled, hugging her closer. "Then forget it," he whispered against her cheek.

She smiled, grateful.

"I wonder sometimes," he said cautiously, not wanting to drive away her rare smile. "Are you happy?"

She looked up at him sharply. "Of course. The happiest I've ever been in my entire life...why?" Her heart was racing and she couldn't understand why. She was alarmed at the question for more reasons than one.

He shrugged simply. "Don't know...sometimes you just seem...distant, that's all. And you frown a lot."

Her shoulders lost their tension and she relaxed against him. "I know. I can't help it. I've had more practice frowning than smiling." She looked up at him reluctantly. "Are you happy?"

He smiled. "Now that's a silly question, Love. A bit of a projectionist, are we? Can't stand the attention?"

"No, I just wanted..."

"Yes. I'm happy, Jude. I've got my two best friends right here, a pint in front of me and my boys are finally on the win. A guy couldn't get any happier."

She nodded. Yes, that was pretty much her sentiments exactly. But for some reason, the smile on her face would not stay. It felt terrifyingly temporary, her little bit of heaven. She knew it was absurd to expect disaster at every turn of the road, but she couldn't help it.

As they walked home, the snow drifted silently to the earth, dampening the sound around them. It was late, cold and silent--a crystalline, perfect world. A sense of pure content, a satisfaction that she had never felt before this moment, alien and strange, enveloped her. She watched Darcy strain at her lead, tugging Rhys in a zig-zagged, erratic path, chasing the snowflakes that danced on the December air. Rhys laughed and egged her on, just as enamored of the snowfall as his dog, and clearly pleased that she was having a good time. She watched them both with unparalleled appreciation and a realization entered her mind that made her smile. These two, Rhys and his beloved Darcy, and Adda in her cozy bakery, were her entire world. This was her home now, her family. This was her Paradise.