Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

~Prologue~

I don't want you

But I hate to lose you

You got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea

I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea

I want to cross you off my list

But when you come knocking at my door

Fate seems to give my heart a twist

And I come running back for more

I should hate you

But I guess I love you

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea

It would have been a regular night. It would have been just another night, one undeserving of considerable mention and unremarkable in every way, but when the fates want something to occur, it will, whether it be important or no. And it just so happened that on that clear night in downtown London, a very suspicious looking pair appeared out of nowhere into the shadows of a back alley, across the street from the dark and formidable looking orphanage that sat like a sleeping monster waiting to be roused.

It was fortunate that no one was walking the streets at that late hour, as lonely drunks and soul searchers were wont to do, or perhaps it wouldn't have happened like it was supposed to. It was also very fortunate that the small girl standing hidden between the two wasn't making any noise of protest. If she had been a normal girl, she would have been squalling and struggling for all she was worth, fighting her father's hold on her arm and doing everything in her power to stay away from the bleak future waiting across the street for her. But as it was, this girl accepted her parent's decisions, however heartless and horrifying they may be, and even though she was just a little scared, and just a little unsure of what her life would be like from now on, she didn't show it.

The aforementioned pair shared a quick word, then ushered the small girl across the street, dodging like thieves between parked cars and staying clear of the street lamp's bright glare on the asphalt. Their long, strange looking cloaks of dark green and maroon swayed around their feet in great bells, obscuring the girl in their thick folds. They hurried up to the heavy metal gates, whose heavy padlock mysteriously clicked open after the man uttered a single word and pointed what looked like nothing more than a thin rod of wood at the gate. He pulled the now unlocked gate open just so much as they could slip through unnoticed, and pulled the woman and girl along with him, tugging them along down the cobblestone courtyard path and up to the mighty oak doors. The woman fell behind as they reached the steps, and waited while the man parked the girl right in front of the doors, stuffing a piece of parchment into her hand.

He drew the thin rod of wood again and pointed it at the girl.

"Oblivia..." he began, but stopped himself, hesitating.

"What are you waiting for?" the woman hissed, glancing around her worriedly. "Wipe her memory!"

The man exhaled through his nose, lips pinching together.

"We're abandoning her, Monique," he said stiffly, looking back at the woman. "We should at least leave her her memories, if nothing else."

The woman gave a disgruntled sigh, crossing her arms.

"Fine then," she snapped. "Leave her some silly memories. It's not as though anyone would believe her, given what she is...."

"Exactly. Do you see my point?"

"Whatever you want André." The woman looked visibly distressed now, dancing from foot to foot. "Just hurry up so we can go. Someone's going to see us..."

This seemed to make up the man's mind, and he put away the rod, turning and grasping the girl's shoulders tightly.

"Don't ever come back," he said. "We've leaving you here, and it is here that you will stay. Forget ever calling yourself a Lestrange again, Squib. You are not a witch, despite who your parents may be. You are not Morganne Sylvie Lestrange. You are Lynn Grey, nothing but a dirty, filthy, talentless Muggle, just another hapless victim of a loveless union. That, my dear, is who you are. Don't ever forget it."

With that, he grasped the heavy brass knocker and rapped loudly twice. When a light came on from the second floor, followed by more on the first, the man went back to the woman's side, and without so much as a goodbye, they disappeared into thin air. The girl watched her parents go unflinchingly, as she'd done so many things in her short life, and as the doors behind her opened and a large woman appeared in the doorway, crying out at the sight of her watching the empty courtyard with blank eyes, she couldn't help but realize that she was very, very alone.

~Chapter One~

Why Lynn thought drinking her husband under the table was a good idea, she would never know. Sitting across from her at the circular bar table, Peter was looking as if he could last the night out, despite the way his liquor glazed eyes wandered about the room. He was also grinning like a complete fool, which usually could be attributed to extreme giddiness or severe inebriation, and so, the evidence was obviously stacked against him. Both giddy and inebriated were terms most often applied to someone like Peter, but where one usually made the mistake was thinking that even though he was both aforementioned terms, that didn't necessarily mean that he couldn't hold his liquor better than cupped hands could hold water. Lynn had make that mistake many times, and she feared that she'd made it yet again.

A small crowd had gathered to watch the duel, and already a few rumpled bills littered the table. The patrons of this bar knew better. They'd seen many a man go down thinking they could do better than Peter, and Lynn would just be one more soul to be mourned and thought back on fondly.

Behind Peter, Phillip, his good friend, was massaging his shoulders, eyes set and firm as he muttered advice in Peter's ear. Dillon, Lynn's comrade in arms was giving both men a glare that could have melted steel, and though she'd never admit it, Dillon knew very well how this match was going to turn out. Both groups were tossing insults across the table, using all possible means to bring the other down, be they fair or no. So far, Peter's masculinity had been questioned, Lynn's most embarrassing secret had been laid bare before the entire bar, and Phillip and Dillon's relationship had ended, started, and ended again amidst showers of profanity and crude references to both party's genitalia.

Lynn could tell she was fading fast(she was definitely not one to hold her anything, let alone liquor) but she was utterly determined to go down with her dignity firmly intact.

"One more?" she asked, a little unsteadily, raising her glass.

Peter raised his own glass in a mock salute, then waved for the barkeep to pour another shot for them both. Tom, who through some questionable and wildly unbelievable circumstances was now commonly known by the more colourful patrons of the bar as "Sue", shook his head ruefully and tipped the bottle, sloshing some amber liquid into their tumblers, then backed away to watch the mayhem.

"One..." Phillip counted slowly. "Two....Three!"

Lynn and Peter tipped the glasses and downed what must have been their eighth shot respectively, slamming it back on the table once it was empty, disturbing the cocktail peanuts and sending them skittering over the edge. When both of them remained relatively upright in their seats, a heavy roar erupted from the bystanders, and more bills were thrown on the table. The stakes were rising.

Lynn swallowed hard, clutching at the rim of her seat to keep herself from toppling over. The room before her swam mercilessly, but she'd be damned if she was going to pass out now. The sour, foul taste in her mouth really wasn't helping either. She felt as though she was going to empty her stomach very soon. Either that, or pitch headfirst onto the floor. Neither options were looking very promising, but it was definitely going to be one of them sooner or later.

"Are you going to back down like you should, or are things going to have to get ugly?"

Peter's voice was dangerously slurred, and she suddenly realized he looked just as bad she felt.

"What time is it?" Lynn didn't think that if she tried to raise her watch, she'd be able to read the hands.

"Twelve thirty!" Someone from the crowd called in the ensuing silence.

Lynn groaned, holding her head.

"We should go home, Peter," she muttered. "Adrienne has school tomorrow, and we really can't expect her to stay up all night. James is probably just waiting for her to fall asleep before tying her up and tossing her in a closet...."

"I wouldn't put it past him."

Lynn gave him a lazy grin, rising unsteadily to her feat.

"We're done here for tonight Tom." She tossed enough money to pay for their drinks on the table, while the betters collected their winnings, then pulled her husband out of his chair and through the door. Phillip and Dillon followed soon after, their relationship obviously in place again, waving them off as Lynn hailed a cab from the curb. When one pulled up, Lynn fell into the backseat and tugged Peter in behind her, who toppled unceremoniously into her lap. He smiled a crooked smile into her neck, giggling a little.

"We are so drunk...." he tittered, pecking Lynn on the cheek.

"Shove off."

She pushed him away from her and leaned forward to give the cabbie their address.

When the cramped cab pulled up in front of their two story flat, Peter was almost asleep on her shoulder, and Lynn nearly had to carry him inside if he hadn't suddenly decided to throw open the door and retch all over the sidewalk, then promptly pass out. From the front seat she could hear the cabbie chuckle to himself, and he gratefully accepted the contents of Lynn's wallet. She didn't even bother to wait for the change.

Lynn stumbled around the back of the cab and helped Peter out, carefully sidestepping the vomit and draping his arm around her shoulder, pulling him up the front steps. She knocked on the door and waited while Adrienne stirred on the couch and came to answer.

"Bloody hell Mrs. Turner, is Mr. Turner alright?"

Lynn smiled lopsidedly, noting in the window how glazed her eyes looked.

"I'm sure he'll be right as rain in the morning." She patted his head affectionately. "Don't you worry."

Adrienne helped her over the threshold, studiously ignoring the conspicuous stain on Peter's shirt.

"Is James in bed?"

Adrienne nodded, then grinned in return, turning to grab her coat and slip into it before brushing past Lynn and Peter and down the front steps.

"I know you're out of money Mrs. Turner," she called over her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it next time."

"You're a saint, Adrienne."

Lynn kicked the door shut with her foot and carried Peter up the stairs, dumping him on their large bed. He made a feeble attempt to remove his shirt, but Lynn just swatted his hand away and pulled his boots off, tugging the covers over his limp body.

"Get some sleep," she whispered soothingly, then pulled off her own shirt and skirt and slipped into a pair of baggy tartan pants and a red jumper, collapsing beside her husband.

She barely had enough strength to roll beneath the covers and turn off the bedside lamp before sleep claimed her, pulling her under into blissful oblivion.

When Lynn finally found the will to open her eyes the next morning, squinting against the filtered sun creeping through the closed shutters, she knew what an utter mistake the previous night had been. Lynn was rarely ill, and any experience she had with head colds and the flu was nothing compared to the drums pounding between her ears and the dry, pasty sandpaper that was her tongue scraping against the roof of her mouth. Rolling over slowly, carefully, she realized that Peter was already gone, no doubt shouting words of encouragement along the sidelines of James' football game.

Ugh....muttered the little voice in her head, disgusted at the thought of anyone that awake and aware after a night of shot glass slamming and liquor consuming. How does he DO it??

Lynn sat up slowly, holding her thumping head, closing her sleep crusted eyes to battle the dizziness that suddenly swept over her. She could tell already that this wasn't going to be a very good morning at all. Pulling on a housecoat, she made her way downstairs and into the sun drenched kitchen and plopped a few pieces of toast into the toaster. She was just about to pour herself a cup of strong black coffee when she heard the mail flap screech open and clatter closed, then the distinct clap as letters hit the hardwood floor. Lynn shuffled over to the front door and swiped them up, turning back to the kitchen.

"Bills...bills...junk..." She tossed the flyer into the waste bin on her way in. "Hmm....another letter from Tabitha. Wonder what that bloody woman wants this time.....ju---"

Lynn paused midstep, holding up the last piece of mail in front of her.

It was an envelope, somewhat larger than the rest, made of a strange, thick sort of paper that was familiar for reasons she could not discern. There was no address on the front, and no return address on the back, and it was held shut by a red wax seal. Lynn began to peel it open, but stopped, drawing in a slow breath. Someone like her didn't just receive unmarked letters everyday. She was a normal woman, with a normal family, who lived in a normal house in normal downtown London. There was absolutely no reason for her to be receiving strange post. No reason at all, unless.......No. No that couldn't be it....Why would anyone like that want to contact her....? Maybe it was just some company's latest feeble attempt at original advertising. Maybe. If she was lucky.

Sighing, Lynn finally plucked up the courage and ripped open the wax seal, and pulled out a small card nestled within the envelope. It was no bigger than her palm, and made of the same sort as the envelope. There were no marks of any kind on the front, so she turned it over hesitantly, knowing that if there were any message to be found, it would be on the back.

Indeed there was, and as Lynn's eyes fell on the message, her face drained of colour for reasons she could not comprehend.

Who are you?

Lynn felt an unconscious shiver run down her spine.

She read the looping black letters again.

Her hand twitched, and she jerked suddenly, ripping the card in half. She ran blindly into the living room and threw the torn card and envelope into the crackling fire, watching it burn to cinders on the hot coals. The fire consumed the paper quickly, and soon nothing was left but ash and soot, not a trace left of the chilling note. Long after it was gone, her dark eyes watched the flames hungrily, her gaze fixed on ever speck of ash, every single speck of it, willing even those small particles to disappear.

Lynn was very certain where the letter had come from now. There was no other place where paper like that, which gave her such a feeling as it did, could have come from. The unnerving prickle of electricity, or power, of magic was still dancing on the tips of her fingers, and Lynn shoved them in her mouth, sucking nervously on the charged skin.

The real question was, what self respecting wizard would risk their reputation contacting her? And worse yet, how did anyone know where she was, who she was? From what she'd gleaned here and there, she knew she'd effectively disappeared from the wizarding world. Her parents had seen to that. They would not have their Squib daughter tainting their good, pure name. If someone had somehow found where she was living, they had done some very serious digging. They would have to had known which orphanage she'd been abandoned at, somehow gotten a hold of her papers, figured out her new name, figured out who she'd married, where they'd moved to and personally send the letter without being seen by her neighbors.

That was not easy by any stretch of the imagination.

Which meant, that there was serious intent behind it.

Backing away from the fire, Lynn turned and approached the window, drawing the curtains aside slowly, glancing outside and doing a cursory scan of the street. She thought she saw someone dressed in black go around the corner, but she couldn't be sure. And besides, a lot of people dressed in black. She was just being paranoid.

Lynn was just about to let the curtain fall again when she saw Peter coming down the street, James following behind, kicking his football in front of him. A sudden blind panic seized her, and she dashed back into the kitchen, searching frantically for any signs of the note that might have been left behind. Seeing none, Lynn sank onto a bar stool at the island, pulling the other neglected letters over to her, trying to calm her erratic breathing.

The front door opened, and James came barreling in, bouncing his ball in circles around her.

"We won!" he shouted, his bright blue eyes twinkling madly. "I scored the winning goal!"

Lynn smiled at him, ruffling his messy black curls. "That's wonderful James! Now why don't you get changed so you can play." She cast a disapproving eye at his muddy cleats, noting the mess he'd left all over the linoleum. "And take off your shoes!"

James sucked on his bottom lip and gave her a sheepish grin, kicking off his cleats and tearing upstairs, leaving his ball to roll slowly across the floor. Peter sauntered into the kitchen soon after, smiling wickedly, and dumped his jacket on one of the other chairs.

"How's my girl this morning hmm?" he wheedled. "Are you feeling it?"

Lynn rolled her eyes, suddenly becoming aware again of the headache that was still pounding between her ears.

"How you do it, I have no clue, but yes, I don't cope well with large quantities of liquor. Stop ragging me about it."

"Perhaps you'd like to make me." Peter waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Lynn squealed, scandalized.

"Later, maybe," she promised. "Right now, I need to go for a run. Do me a favor and make sure James does his homework while I'm out, so he can go to that movie later."

Peter nodded. "Sure. Go have your run."

Lynn smiled her thanks then went and changed, pulling on some spandex shorts and a gray tee. She laced up her trainers, jogging down the stairs and tying her hair up before going out the door and down the street to the large track near their flat. The wind blew easily through the thick mass of black wavy hair bobbing behind her, caressing her fair skin and bringing a blush to her cheeks. It was a cool morning, and as she jogged, Lynn hummed softly under her breath, glad for the slight breeze. When the track came into view she picked up her speed and turned onto the lanes. She ran one lap, passing a mother running with a three wheeled jogging carrier, then went around for a second circuit, her trainers slapping wetly on the rain soaked rubber. As she was coming around the corner, going for her sixth lap, Lynn looked to the side and nearly dropped dead with shock.

Standing out in vivid, stark relief against the gray sky, a tall, slender figure wearing what was unmistakably long black robes was leaning casually against the track stands, his chin length black hair swirling around his face. His features were nothing more than a blur in the distance, but there was an energy that radiated from him which reeked of a stern, incredibly powerful man. The air between them crackled and fizzed with magic, causing a cold shiver to strike up and down her spine like lightning.

Lynn's chest constricted, and white spots began to dance before her eyes. She staggered backwards, nearly falling right over, turned, and ran. She didn't know why she should be running, but her feet were flying, and she didn't have any hope of stopping them. Lynn was suddenly more frightened than she'd ever remembered being before, and the urge to flee overpowered all her other senses. She had no idea whether or not the man was following her, but she ran, and didn't stop until she was far from the track and the amazing power she had felt.

That man was a wizard. A very powerful wizard.

The last time Lynn had been around a wizard.....well, that would had to have been when she'd been left at the orphanage, and that was close to twenty years ago. She'd almost forgotten what magic felt like, sensing that kind of thing and knowing what it did to her. For normal witches and wizards, they simply got used to it, and quickly began to ignore the emotions and senses that followed people like themselves around so strongly. But for Lynn, who'd been basically a Muggle a good portion of her life, the power that bled form wizards and witches like sweat was still very much a shock and an odd sense of intimacy to her, as if she was feeling them, rather than knowing them personally.

And that man.....that man, if someone like him could be called something so plain and inappropriate, he had made her feel things she didn't think she'd ever felt before. It was like something dark, and with just a touch of sin, like transgressions that had been confessed and paid for, but with lingering stains that couldn't be washed away.

Lynn had never been more unsettled. She brought a trembling hand to her face and felt one pale cheek, feeling the chill settle on the tips. A cold burst of wind swirled around her, disturbing her already ruffled hair, and she shivered, suddenly wishing she'd brought a jacket, or maybe just a jumper. She usually didn't take such brief runs, and by the time she was finished, she was loathe to add another layer to her already sweaty garments. But, she didn't dare go back now and finish what she'd started. Much to her chagrin, Lynn was terrified that the man would still be there where she'd left him, and she would definitely rather run on the hard pavement of her friendly neighborhood streets than on the much less straining rubber track without anyone around except for the possibility of an enigmatic stranger.

Rubbing her upper arms to restore some heat, she began her walk home, her eyes fixed unfocused on the pavement passing under her feet. Before she knew it, she was standing stationary on the front walk of her flat, staring blankly into space. She half expected Peter to come out and laugh at her, asking what the bloody hell she was doing, then bring her inside and make her melt with one of his knee-weakening smiles, say he was sorry, and make her tea or something. Thankfully enough, she pulled herself together quick enough to make it into the house before anyone saw her. Once inside, she crept up the stairs and past the bathroom, where sounds of splashing and giggles wafted through the half closed door. Her thin lips curled into a smile, and she paused to listen, and nearly laughed out loud when there was a loud splash, followed by an outraged shout and a string of mild profanity obviously from the mouth of her cheeky husband.

Lynn wasn't going to stay around to see what would come of it, so she slipped down to the end of the hall and into the master bedroom, pulling off her barely sweaty clothing and slipping back into her pajamas, climbing under the bedsheets. She closed her eyes and curled into the fetal position, tugging the covers closer to her chin.

Why was her life suddenly taking a steep nose dive into the strange and unexplainable? She loved her husband, she loved her son, she had a great job and was good at what she did, she paid her taxes, she didn't drink and drive, and bloody hell, she just didn't deserve this! Sure, she was an orphan Squib, abandoned by her magical parents because of her "disability", who grew up as a Muggle and rightfully was one now. So, why was she being stalked by wizards? Was the magical population laughing at her? Did they hate her so much that they thought it was their personal responsibility to dangle what she couldn't have in front of her just to spite her?

Well, laugh it up

, she thought bitterly, I'm not going to let this bother me. I don't want to be a witch. I'm perfectly happy as I am. I don't need all the snooty parties, all the formalities, all the fancy clothing and posh furniture, all the rules and expectations that come along with being a "Lestrange" like unwanted baggage.

Lynn was half asleep, mulling over her troubling thoughts, when Peter flopped onto the end of the bed, sighing heavily.

"Lynn, are you asleep love?"

"Not anymore obviously."

She felt him rubbing her feet through the heavy sheets.

"Why are you back so early? Don't tell me you're slacking because you know how much I hate it when you slack...."

"Sod off Peter," she whined, swatting the air in hopes of making a hit. "Please, just...go away."

"Oh come off it Lynn. I know there's something bothering you so just spill. It will make things so much easier."

"It's nothing you need to worry about Peter."

Whether there was something in her voice that she couldn't hear, or it was just the way she said it, Peter was suddenly silent at her feet, his hands lying still on the sheets. She could hear him breathing steadily, each rise and fall of his chest applying pressure to her legs.

"Love, if there's something bothering you, please tell me. Even if it's something small."

Lynn turned away from his pleading voice, closing her eyes tightly.

"I'm tired Peter. Please go away. Take James to his movie."

She felt him hesitate for a brief moment, then slowly heave himself off the bed, padding softly to the door. He paused on the threshold, as if waiting for her to call him back and spill all her worries, then passed through, closing the door behind him. Even though she wanted to, Lynn couldn't seem to dredge up any regret for what she'd just said and done, pushing Peter away like she had. A small part of her was glad for the silence and solitude now, away from his bubbling personality and charming smiles. An even smaller part of her didn't want him to come back at all, and even though Lynn knew had callous that sounded, for some odd reason, she just couldn't care less.

"Dad, where's mum?"

James' sweet voice wafted under the closed door, and for a moment, Lynn wanted to put her hands over her ears and block him out, but stopped herself. What was she doing?! What was happening to her? James was her son. She loved him more than she loved herself, and would do anything to make him happy. Why then was she all of a sudden avoiding him, and Peter? Had that eerie note and the equally eerie man bothered her more than she'd realized?

And if so, what was going to happen to her if more of them appeared?