Vacillation and Volition, Chapter Five

Jul 19, 2008 20:21



Title: Vacillation and Volition, Chapter Five: Maiming and Mending
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Lucas Malory (OC), Charlie Weasley, Muriel Prewett, Katie Bell, Order Members
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/Injuries
Word Count: 5,493
Author's Note: To read this story from the beginning, please click here.

______________________________________________

Lucas, son,

I have returned to Merridown. Scrumpy told me of the message you sent home, but it did little to reassure me of your safety and comfort. How can I help?

Grandfather

Lucas smiled as he read the short letter. It was so typical of Maximilian, without hesitation and straight to the point. He had probably burst out of the green flames in the Floo fireplace, brushed the ashes off of his shoulders and written the note the moment after the house-elf had given him the message. If so, that would also mean that he had returned that very morning, assuming that Xerxes, the Eagle Owl currently resting on his wrist, had found the Prewett Farm at once.

He looked at the handsome owl. He was one of Grace’s last hatchlings, and a prime specimen. Lucas had helped feed and care for him when he was nothing but a ball of grey down and yellow eyes, and later lifted him to the skies for his first flight. Of course Xerxes had found him. Lucas hadn’t inquired about what wards and spells protected the farm, but knew that owls possessed a certain magic of their own. His mother had claimed that this magic might be strengthened through proper care and handling, and he had never found a reason to question that.

Xerxes interrupted his thoughts by squeezing at his wrist with a couple of sharp claws. He looked at the owl, into its unnaturally yellow eyes, and smiled when the bird tilted its tufted head to the left.

“I need to reply to this, don’t I?”

A light chirp was the only reply offered. Choosing to interpret that as a ‘yes’, Lucas gently placed the owl at the back of the chair he had been sitting on. He retrieved his wand from inside a set of comfortable robes, and conjured ink, quill and some fresh parchment. It flapped a little on the table, caught by the October breeze, so he put the black bottle on top. With an encouraging hoot from Xerxes, Lucas sat down in another chair. Unaware of doing so, he instantly assumed his writing position, with chin resting against his left hand, and the tip of the feather quill brushing pensively back and forth over his lips. What did Maximilian want to hear? And what was there to say, really? Another rush of wind whirled through his hair and thoughts, and he looked up from the parchment.

It was early afternoon and everything was quiet. From his seat at the porch he had a fine view of the driveway and the barns, and the iron gate in the distance. The trees - scattered beeches, oaks and rowans - were in their last phase of brownish yellow, and would soon stand black and bare. But there was still some warmth in the air, and with the stuffed, strained silence that now ruled inside the house, Lucas had learned to like the solitude out of doors. Thatcher would serve him tea and hot soup out here, if Lucas so wished, and all in all he was quite content. Really, the only thing that bothered him at the moment was this dull ache, caused by constantly missing -

Resolutely, he stabbed the tip of the quill against the parchment and began to scribble, only to notice that he had forgotten the ink. Muttering with frustration, he dipped the sharp point into blackness before bringing it to the parchment again.

Dearest Grandfather,

Dearest Grandfather - and then what? Nothing came to his mind; it was empty not only of words to express himself, but even more inconveniently, of what he actually wanted to say. Obviously he did not want Maximilian to storm to his immediate rescue, and neither could Lucas think of a way that the older Malory could use his connections and influence to free him from the farm. And even if he could have, escaping from the farm meant that Lucas would have to deal with things that he would rather leave be. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Technically, he wasn’t even a prisoner. He could pack up and be gone within an hour, if he wished to. No doubt the Order would pay him another visit and insist that he went back into hiding; perhaps they would even go to some lengths in trying to persuade him. But would they force him? Lucas didn’t think so.

So what did he want to do? Lucas pondered on it for a couple of minutes. The truth, which he had tried to discard but could not, was that if he hadn’t found out just how much Charlie disapproved of him, he would have been happy to stay on at Muriel’s farm until the war was over. As it was, he felt like an intruder, a burden, like some evil that Charlie and his aunt were forced to keep in their house even though they would much rather not.

Perhaps he just ought to leave? After all, he wasn’t wanted by the Ministry and no Death Eaters had come to recruit him. He could quietly go about the business of aiding Lucius Malfoy, and then distance himself from the world again. It could work.

Xerxes hooted then, and Lucas opened his eyes. No, of course that wouldn’t work. Once he had helped a convicted criminal to escape, he would be inevitably connected with and tied to that person. He would have to depend on Malfoy for protection, and the likes of Charlie Weasley would never trust him again. Clarity flashed before him for an instant, and he dipped the quill for another fill of ink.

I hope that this will find you in good health and spirits.

I beg you not to be alarmed by my absence. Although abrupt and unplanned, my disappearance was, I believe, for the better. I am reasonably comfortable, and not lacking in ways to pass my time. After some deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that it would be better for all parts if I just stay put and remain unnoticed.

I am sorry that I cannot give you more details of my situation in this letter, but be assured that I am well and that I will write again when I have news.

Love,

Lucas

He sealed the piece of parchment quickly, half worried that he might change his mind and erase it all. While tying it to Xerxes’ left leg, he insisted to himself that he had not so much made a choice as he had gone for the only sensible option before him. He would stay here, learn to deal with Charlie’s cold indifference, and the horrible rudeness of Muriel Prewett.

As Lucas watched the owl take off, he noticed that heavy storm clouds had gathered in the sky. There were no visible flashes cutting through the greyness, but he still thought that he could hear thunder in the distance. An odd time of the year for such weather, but he was unsurprised. A lot of things were odd these days.

“Master Malory?”

Lucas turned around and found Thatcher standing in front of him.

“Yes?”

“My mistress is requesting that you should joins her in the dining room, sir.”

“She is?” Muriel hadn’t been out of her rooms much, so Lucas hadn’t been expecting to hear that she was recovered enough for a sit-down dinner.

“Most firmly, sir.”

“Should I change into better clothes?”

Thatcher gave him an honest look then, no doubt worried that a bad apparel on Lucas’ part would distress his precious mistress. But he seemed to find him acceptable enough.

“No, sir, you looks presentable.”

“Let’s go then,” Lucas urged, not wanting to give in to the uneasiness that threatened to spread in his stomach.

The dining room was in fact one of his favourite rooms at the Prewett farm. The table and chairs were of a heavy, dark oak that reminded him of Merridown, and the wallpaper, although patterned with roses, were lovely and old-fashioned and not a screaming chintz. Dried flowers were placed in delicate china vases and bowls; arrangements of the same kind that his grandmother had used to make before she passed away. Just like the kitchen, this dining room also had a view of the extensive orchard, and now, after a few nights of frost, the last apples were blushing furiously with a delicious red. In addition to this, the whole room now smelled of freshly baked bread. Lucas was glad to take in all of this before he had to find himself under the scrutinising gaze of Mrs Prewett.

“Mr Malory, there you are! Come, sit here!”

She was at the far end of the table, and obediently he sat down on her left. Right across the table, on her other side, was Charlie. He was keeping his gaze fixed on the table, clearly pretending that Lucas had not just joined them. Looking down himself, Lucas saw three beautiful bowls with Thatcher’s best mushroom soup in them. Picking up her spoon, Muriel flourished a great deal, and with a broad but insincere smile that revealed a golden molar, she nodded to them.

“Do begin, boys!”

Neither of them inclined to speak, both Lucas and Charlie silently did as she bid them. But the peace wasn’t to last - Muriel had only helped herself to a couple of spoonfuls before she turned to Lucas, her small, red-rimmed eyes peering at him with indecent curiosity.

“Now, Mr Malory, we haven’t had a chance to speak as much as I would have liked to. It seems odd, doesn’t it, that you’re living in my house and I know practically nothing about you!” she laughed, shrilly. He didn’t reply, but let his spoon rest against the edge of the bowl.

“So… where do we begin? Oh, I know! What House were you in?”

Lucas dared to steal a glance at Charlie, who looked down immediately, pretending not to be interested in the conversation.

“Ravenclaw, ma’am.”

“Ravenclaw!” she shrieked. “You don’t say! Why, I would never have guessed! You seem to have that elegance that only Slytherins possess.”

Lucas resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. Was Mrs Prewett complimenting him?

“Ah, Ravenclaw’s a fine House,” she continued, seemingly oblivious of his surprise. “Not the very best one, of course, but we can’t all be Gryffindors like Charles and myself here, can we?” Again she laughed, clearly pleased with herself.

“I suppose not,” Lucas said, feeling that it would be impolite to remain stubbornly silent.

“And what classes did you like best?”

Trying not to feel like an eleven-year-old, he obliged to answer. “I enjoyed Transfiguration and Charms, but Potions and Ancient Runes, too.”

“Oh, how lovely. Well, one can see that you’re intelligent enough. And what do you do for a living now?”

“I help my grandfather with the family business, Mrs Prewett.”

“Ah, yes, he must be very pleased. Very pleased indeed… I envy him of course, as I have no children or grandchildren of my own. But that’s my lot in life, it seems, to grow old and lonely.”

Suddenly sentimental, she fished a scented handkerchief out of a pocket and dabbed what Lucas thought were perfectly dry eyes. Without his extraordinary perception of the feelings of others, he might have felt sorry for her. Now, however, it was plain to him that Muriel was most content with her life and not the least unhappy. Lucas chose not to make a comment, but waited until a small, forced sob escaped her. She looked to her right and smiled bleakly.

“But at least I have my Charles. Isn’t that right?”

Lucas, filled with Charlie’s embarrassment, could barely contain his amusement. For a moment he felt close to the red-head again, and dared to look straight at him. It was a mistake. The brown eyes met Lucas’ grey, opening up a wide passageway for the doubt, suspicion and disappointment that filled Charlie. Lucas’ mood shifted at once from reasonably good to thoroughly miserable. Charlie, severing the connection, turned to Muriel.

“Yes, of course, Auntie. Blood is thicker than water, you know. Or what do you think, Mr Malory?”

They looked at each other again. Lucas felt Muriel’s eyes on him as well, but didn’t care. Why would Charlie ask him such a question?

“Not necessarily.” The answer had sprung from his lips before completely formed in his mind, but it felt right. “Perhaps blood is thicker than water, but as far as I’m aware, a wizard needs both to live.” Charlie didn’t avert his eyes, and for a fleeting instant Lucas felt something else within his heart.

“Aha, well spoken!” Muriel’s voice interrupted them. “I raise my glass to that!”

Lucas didn’t exactly agree with her, but took the opportunity to return to his food. The rest of the somewhat exhausting three-course meal followed without any conversation between Charlie and himself, but Muriel took great care to find out as much as she could about Lucas, and seemed strangely pleased with what she heard.

Several hours later, Lucas found himself comfortably leaned back in the armchair in his room. The coin was playing between his fingertips, somehow full of motion and warmth. He was pondering on the matters of family and friends, and every time he grazed at a thought about his father’s family the inanimate piece of gold seemed strangely alive. By now he had spent enough time with the little object to know that it reacted to all things and thoughts Malfoy - including himself.

He had tried to find something on the matter of family gold in the library, but all he had managed to learn was that goblins had only ever condescended to cast them for wizard families who had tremendous claims on them. Nothing was to be found about the magic, that subtle magic that was still so clear, that Lucas could feel in the Malfoy coin. Really, what he needed was access to a bigger library, one where he might -

A loud crash in the corridor outside interrupted his thoughts, with bangs of human bodies against the hard floor, and before he was out of his chair he heard Charlie slam his door open and shout.

“What the hell is happening?!”

A second later Lucas was out of his room and saw the scene for himself. Blood was everywhere, and although no one was screaming, his whole being was overtaken by their fear and panic. Someone in the heap of people before him was badly wounded, and Lucas only barely managed to block out the merciless, all-consuming pain before it overtook his own senses. Close to passing out, he clung to the doorframe and saw, as if through drunken eyes, how a tall man with tufts of red hair got to his feet. His voice, oddly distant, rang out in the corridor.

“We had to use an emergency Portkey - I have no idea what it did to the wards! Remus, follow me outside! Tonks, get Madam Pomfrey here this instant! Charlie, for Merlin’s sake, help stop the bleeding!”

“Arthur, how - I can’t - can I risk a Patronus?” Tonks called after him, still on her knees.

“Yes, yes, you must!” the man shouted over his shoulder before he disappeared, Remus Lupin close behind him.

Lucas swallowed hard, trying to fight off the waves of pain that were trying to penetrate his mind. Through the haze he heard Tonks utter the Patronus Charm, and some relief came to him when he caught a trace the pure, positive energy emitting from the silvery shape that sped past him. He clung to this opportunity, braced himself against the thrashing ache, and shook himself out of his stupor.

“Pergatitum! Zaceliti!”

Tonks uttered one healing spell after another, but none of them seemed to have the slightest effect.

“What happened to her, Tonks?”

Charlie’s voice was distressed, he was close to panicking, and helplessness radiated from him. Lucas could focus now, and saw that Charlie was on the floor, next to an unconscious young woman. She was bleeding freely from several deep slashes across her arms, chest and abdomen, and her blue robes were ripped and dark with blood.

“I don’t know! Episkey!” she shouted, desperate, performing what Lucas knew was the correct wand movement. “Oh, it’s no use, Charlie!”

“Here!” He conjured rolls of bandage, and tossed several to Tonks. So immersed in the task of keeping the unknown woman from bleeding to death, neither seemed to notice that Lucas was standing next to them. Unsure at first of his own intentions, he stooped down next to Tonks.

“Lucas! Here!”

He looked up from the broken body and saw how Charlie, with trembling hand, held out a roll of bandage. But he didn’t take it. A strange serenity came over him at the sight of Charlie’s face, open and empty of the disdain with which he had looked at Lucas lately. Calmly, as if about to light a fire for tea water, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at one of the gashes on the woman’s stomach. His hand moved smoothly and his voice was firm.

“Lagatoria!”

Slowly but obediently, the edges of the wound began to mend, and the bleeding subsided. It was hard to make out, as another slash continued to bleed just next to the one that Lucas had healed. He repeated the spell at once, and then again, and a fourth time. The woman looked as though some enormous cat had torn her open with claws the size of axes. Fear, his own fear, finally entered Lucas’ heart. There wasn’t enough time to -

“Aside! Out of my way!”

He recognised the voice and did not hesitate to do as it said. The matron of Hogwarts, haggard-looking but most determined, had appeared, and he stepped aside for her. Madam Pomfrey cast one fleeting look at the wounded woman, whipped out her wand and began to wordlessly mend the bleeding gashes at a much quicker pace than Lucas had managed.

“Good healing work here,” she commented while working. “Who -” She didn’t finish the question before looking up, directly at Lucas. Her eyes widened slightly.

“Mr Malory! What in Mungo’s name are you of all people doing here?”

“I - Well, I - How do you know my name?”

He was baffled. His few encounters with Madam Pomfrey had been very brief, and considering the number of Hogwarts students that must have passed through the Hospital Wing in all of her years, he would never have expected her to remember him.

“I don’t see many broken collarbones outside of the Quidditch teams. Now,” she turned to address Charlie and Tonks, “I need a clean bed for this poor girl, and we have to get some Blood-Replenishing Potion in her or this will all have been for nothing. Mr Malory, help me carry this bag while I levitate her.”

Hurriedly, they followed Charlie into a nearby room. He ripped covers and blankets out of the bed, and Madam Pomfrey placed the woman on top of the sheets. Blood was still dripping from her torn robes, and it spread and bloomed around her like roses. What little skin of hers that wasn’t covered in red glowed a deadly white. They all set to work, commanded by Pomfrey, and even though he still struggled to keep the pain and panic at bay, Lucas was able to relax a little as he focused on following her orders.

By the time he stepped through the door upstairs and out onto the porch again, the night was almost over. The vast vault above him might have been dark still, but he knew that dawn was approaching swiftly, lurking just beyond the horizon. Exhausted, he dropped into the nearest chair and pulled aching fingers through his hair. They had been working all night, mending the woman’s broken body. It hadn’t taken Madam Pomfrey long to decide that the deadly gashes covering the body were the result of some advanced dark magic. Only someone who had studied such awful spells and curses for years could have produced injuries that were so complicated and difficult to heal. In other words, this was doubtlessly the work of a Death Eater.

Lucas heard the door open behind him, but did not have to turn around to know that it was Charlie and Tonks who had followed him here, who now sat down in chairs next to him. The air of the coming morning was freezing, but after suffering through the heat of panic and hard work, all three of them welcomed the piercing cold.

“Poppy left,” Tonks informed them, her voice sounding as tired as Lucas felt.

“What about dad and Remus?” Charlie asked, now wrapping his arms around himself to keep off the cold. “I didn’t see them again tonight.”

“I talked to them before they left,” she replied, calmly. No energy left to mask her emotions, Lucas could easily tell how much she’d wanted Remus to stay behind, to hold her, to - abruptly, he stopped himself. He had no reason to invade Tonks’ heart in this manner.

“What did Madam Pomfrey say about the girl?” Lucas heard his own strained voice ask.

“She will make it. It might be a long recovery, but she’ll live. Speaking of which - how did you know that healing spell?”

Lucas turned his head and saw them both watching him closely. What did they believe? That only those trained in the Dark Arts were taught how to heal the damages they may cause? He resisted a snort, and told them the truth.

“I read a lot, and I once came across that spell in one of my mother’s books. It’s not designed for use on wizards, but for owls that have been fighting other birds of prey.”

“But you knew it would work on Katie?” Charlie demanded, and Lucas felt that the red-head was still suspicious.

“No. But I was fairly sure it would.”

That, however, was only half a truth. At the time he hadn’t been thinking at all, and he didn’t even know why he had picked that spell. Silence crept onto the porch once more as Charlie and Tonks weighed his words. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny of their minds, Lucas spoke again.

“So her name is Katie? Is she a friend of yours?”

“We know her,” Charlie replied.

“And why would someone do something like this to her?”

“She’s Harry Potter’s girlfriend,” was Tonks’ plain reply.

“I see.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd…” Charlie began.

“What?” Tonks prodded after almost a full minute of silence.

“It seems that… I was thinking about how sad it is that it’s our closest relationships that seem to hurt us the most. Put us through the hardest struggles.”

“Charlie…”

“No, Tonks. That’s the way it is. If Katie hadn’t been Harry’s girlfriend, she wouldn’t be lying unconscious in my aunt’s rabbit nest. And you,” he continued, turning to Lucas who sat bolt upright in his chair, “if you hadn’t been your father’s son, you wouldn’t have been here either.”

“Charlie!” Tonks flew up from her chair, staring at her friend in disbelief. “What are you saying? That Katie would have been better off not having Harry in her life? That Lucas could help who is father is?”

“No!” he protested. “I wasn’t saying that at all, I was just -”

“Well, let me tell you something. Life isn’t that simple! We don’t choose who to have close relationships with - it just happens.”

“Tonks, I didn’t mean to -”

“Save it, Charlie. I’m tired and I want to go home. I’ll see you later. Malory, good job tonight. Take care.”

And with those words she hurried down the stairs, turned on the spot below and vanished.

“Shit,” Charlie cursed under his breath, burying his face in his hands.

All the doubt and ill feelings for Lucas temporarily from his mind, it was easy to single out regret, anxiousness, guilt, sadness, worry. The fierce emotions almost made Lucas smile, as he vividly recalled why Charlie was so special, why he was unique.

“Don’t worry,” he told Charlie. “Give her a good night’s sleep and she’ll realise you meant no offence.”

Charlie looked up at him. “How do you know that? You don’t even know her.”

“I know she’s a nice person, and I know that you didn’t intend to upset her. Or me,” Lucas added after a moment’s deliberation.

“Thanks,” Charlie nodded. “Listen, Lucas…”

He waited.

“What?” he finally asked, when Charlie didn’t speak.

“No, nothing. I’m going to get some sleep. Night.”

As the door closed behind him, the blinding light of dawn broke upon the land, making every frosty surface sparkle. His heart on fire with hope, Lucas got up to seek out his own bed.

___________________________________

Over the following week, a strange peace spread at the farm. Madam Pomfrey stopped by daily, making sure that Miss Bell was recovering properly. Muriel was feeling brittle again, or at least claimed to, so Lucas didn’t see much of her. Tonks had not reappeared, and no other Order members had shown themselves. But what made the biggest difference, what made Lucas stop in the middle of a sentence and look up from his books, was the tranquillity of Charlie. The red-head, usually on the move about the farm, his presence a flutter in Lucas’ consciousness, had stilled. He had taken to spending long hours in the library, not brooding, it seemed, but simply thinking. Unsure still of where they stood, Lucas had kept out of his way, telling himself he was respecting Charlie’s privacy. In truth, he was waiting. As multiple clocks made him aware of each second slipping past, Lucas breathed and wished that whatever it was that he was waiting for would be worth it.

It was a Wednesday when a distraction finally found its way to him. Nearly dozing off in a chintz armchair on the first floor, Lucas didn’t notice the new presence before it made itself known by knocking on the inside of the open door. Momentarily caught between sleep and consciousness, he sought to identify it by emotions. What he found, however, made him open his eyes at once.

Katie Bell was leaning against the doorframe. She was dressed in a long, white shirt of the kind that Madam Pomfrey insisted students wore in the Hospital Wing, and with her brown braid slightly undone, she looked very young. Lucas got up from his chair at once, and reached out his hand.

“Miss Bell,” he said, polite smile on his face, “I didn’t know you were well enough to be up, yet.”

She took his hand and shook it with a mildly amused expression on her face. “It’s Lucas, right? You can call me Katie.”

“Katie,” he nodded.

“And Pomfrey would probably say that I’m in no condition to be out of bed, but I just had to get up, if only for a few minutes.”

Her words reminded Lucas of Charlie, and his smile widened to a genuine one.

“Won’t you come and sit down?”

“Sure.”

She sat down in the armchair next to his and pulled her legs up so that she could rest her chin against her knees.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired and bored. But Pomfrey says I’m healing remarkably well, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. Speaking of which…”

She smiled, and before Lucas was no longer a sickly little girl, but a beautiful woman. He longed to examine her character, but restrained himself. The glimpse that he had caught when waking up was more than enough.

“I’ve been told that you helped with that.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Lucas waved his hand to indicate his own insignificance. “What I did hardly made a difference.”

Katie’s expression was serious and her brown gaze steady. “Madam Pomfrey said that if I had lost about two more drops of blood that night, I wouldn’t have lived. So thank you, Lucas.”

He struggled for a moment to find something appropriate to say, but Katie, knowingly or not he had no idea, quickly saved him from the embarrassment by getting up.

“I need to find Charlie, and then I had better get back to bed, I guess.” She rolled her eyes slightly and winked at him. “See you around when I’m in a slightly less pathetic state.”

Lucas did not even get a chance to tell her that she was anything but pathetic, before she had vanished. Without her vibrant presence, emptiness and silence seemed to echo through the room.

It was not until two evenings later that Lucas’ solitary path was next crossed by another human being. Unfortunately, this time it was not Katie Bell, but Muriel Prewett, supported by Thatcher and a fake golden walking stick.

“Mr Malory!” her voice tore through the stillness, very nearly making him cringe.

“Mrs Prewett,” he nodded, immediately standing up a little straighter.

“So Charles is not with you, then? Where is he?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, I’m afraid,” Lucas admitted, realising that for once he didn’t.

“We’re having supper in the dining room,” Muriel announced, “so I want you to fetch him.”

Lucas didn’t even bother to be offended, but simply nodded again and went on his way to find Charlie.

It was not a difficult task. He had only to follow the trail of frustration to discover him behind the largest barn. Evidently having given up on his recent activities in the library, Charlie was fervently chopping away at large pieces of wood, shirtless in spite of the bitter wind. Hardly believing the scene he was witnessing, Lucas shook his head and pulled out his wand. With one wordless wave of it, the wood neatly divided itself into perfect pieces and stacked itself against the barn wall. Charlie spun around.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he muttered, face red and chest sweaty.

“I’m sorry, but I thought it was my responsibility to stop you when you were acting in such a completely ridiculous manner.”

As seemed to be his habit around Charlie, the words had just leaped from Lucas’ mouth without much consideration from his mind. But it was done, and he folded his arms while waiting for Charlie’s retort. But it didn’t come. Instead, Charlie’s lips parted in a great grin.

“Ridiculous manner, you say?”

“Bizarre and unwizardly, too, if you don’t mind.”

“I was chopping that wood, you know.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t realise. Would you like me to unchop it for you so that you can continue with your barbaric behaviour? I’ll do it, no problem.”

Lucas raised his wand to do so, but Charlie held up his hand and laughed.

“All right, all right, I think I see your point. But I had some pent up energy that just had to be released.”

“Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time indoors?”

Lucas had no idea how the words could flow so easily all of a sudden. Whatever barriers had stood between them before were now gone; doubt and judgement no longer clouded the air. Now past the point where he would have wondered why, Lucas just rejoiced in the elated feeling of his soul.

“Perhaps I have.” Charlie’s eyes twinkled. “So, did you just come here to mess up my exercise, or did you actually want something?”

“I didn’t, but your aunt does. She sent me to fetch you for dinner.”

“I see. Perhaps I ought to have a shower then?”

Pretending to carefully examine Charlie’s appearance, Lucas nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I daresay that would be advisable.”

“You’re crazy, Lucas Malory. Come on, or Muriel will have herself a fit.”

“It’s you who needs a shower, not me,” Lucas protested as he caught up with Charlie who was walking towards the house, shirt tossed over his shoulder. They continued to revel in the new-found enjoyment of their banter as they crossed the yard, but Lucas instantly noticed the subtle change in Charlie’s mood as they began to mount the stairs. He fell behind a couple of steps, so Lucas stopped to turn around and look at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m…”

The cold wind tugged at the naked trees in the garden, and Lucas thought that Charlie must be freezing. But he seemed not to notice it where he stood, half-way up the stairs with a pained expression on his upturned face.

“Lucas… You know what I told you - that man I killed…”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t mean to do it.”

A strange thing to admit, perhaps, but somehow it made complete sense to Lucas. And all he could do was to nod.

“I know.”

Charlie didn’t ask how, or in any way question this statement, but his relief was clear. They watched each other for a while, until the unforgiving cold made Charlie shiver.

“Hurry up,” Lucas smiled at last, “or your aunt will most definitely have that fit.”

______________________________________________

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chapter update, fanfic, vacillation and volition, hp, lucasverse

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