Chapter Text
September 12th, 1982
Arthur wiped the sweat from his forehead as he straightened, putting his hands on his hips as he surveyed his work. The weeds were taken care of, so now he just needed to collect the eggs. Nearby, Merlin was sprawled over the grass unhelpfully as the chickens clucked around him, pecking at the ground for their morning meal.
Before this, Arthur hadn’t realized how hard it had been for him to fall asleep at Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but there was something that made him restless and ill at ease… luckily, he was now feeling refreshed and well-rested after a few nights in the cottage. Although, he’d had to endure Merlin’s taunting all of yesterday when his husband had spent a good half an hour regaling the tale of Byrnes in the office to Aithusa. He’d been laughing himself stupid over it and insisting that Arthur was still just as oblivious as he’d been in Camelot — which, well, Arthur had taken offence to that! He wasn’t that bad, surely?
Aithusa had given them her version of a ‘long-suffering stare,’ then turned away to return to their new dragon Remus, muttering to herself about being surrounded by idiots.
Speaking of their new dragon, Merlin had clearly been ecstatic to see how much healthier Remus looked since they’d rescued him from Gringotts. Arthur hadn’t seen the state of the dragon when they were there with how nauseous the cart had made him, but he’d seen Remus afterwards. Needless to say… it hadn’t been good.
Fortunately, Remus’s new scales were flushing back to a beautiful metallic silver that glittered in the sunlight — although, the sensation of growing scales was quite itchy and he often used the surrounding bark as a back scratcher. Obviously, this resulted in a few bent trees.
“I don’t know if his eyesight will heal,” Merlin had admitted to him as they watched Aithusa coach Remus into a few more wing exercises in the wide field nearby. He still had some patches of bare skin, but he looked strong and confident, standing tall over the trees that surrounded their cottage. “I’m not sure if I should mess with it, either. Eyes are very delicate.”
“He seems happy this way,” Arthur had reassured him, touching his shoulder. “Some things don’t need to be fixed.”
It was now their last day before returning to the school and Arthur was tending to the farm, enjoying the sun beating down on his back. Merlin had forced him to wear a ridiculous sunhat, insisting that he’d burn his face and neck otherwise, and he had to admit that it did a good job of giving him some shade, even though it was a horrific size and quite floppy.
His husband had given up on work for a few minutes now, choosing instead to flop on the floor with an arm over his eyes, his knee bent comfortably as he soaked in the glow of the sun. Ophelia, their youngest hen, was peering down at him judgmentally with her head cocked to the side.
Arthur had to admit that his husband looked remarkably tempting like that.
“Are you going for a tan?” he teased, tugging off his gardening gloves and crouching down to lay next to him. Their chickens clucked at him scoldingly as he forced them to make space.
Merlin peeked under his arm to look at him, a grin toying at his lips. “You know I’d just burn, you jerk.”
Arthur leaned on his side so that he could cup his husband’s jaw, caressing his fingers along the skin and catching slightly on Merlin’s growing stubble. “Really?” he asked playfully. “Here I thought I was the one that we were worried about burning.”
“You’re unattractive as a lobster,” Merlin explained in a haughty tone. He placed his hand on top of his.
“And you’re not?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “I seem to recall a time back in ‘53 when you—”
“Oh, shut up,” his husband ordered, then proceeded to do it for him, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and pulling him down for a languid kiss. In the commotion, his sunhat was dislodged from its place on his head and it tumbled to the floor beside them.
“Your skin… it was peeling for weeks—” Arthur smothered his laughter into his lips— “we could've probably… made a replica of your face with it…” he managed between kisses, then grunted when Merlin tugged at his hair to pull him back a little.
His husband gave him a look. "We either argue or you kiss me, pick one," he said.
Well. If you put it that way…
“Fine, I’ll let you off easy,” he relented and leaned in again.
It felt like it’d been ages since they’d last done this, although it probably hadn’t been all that long. Arthur would never tire of it — they’d probably shared millions of kisses by now, but it was a way of saying, I’m here, without words, a reassurance and a comfort all wrapped in a simple touch. He couldn’t get enough of that.
He knew exactly how to tell what mood his husband was in just by tasting him, and he was quite proud of that — the knowledge came with ample experience and practice, after all. Right now, Merlin was insistent and demanding like he usually was, which he could tell by the feeling of his husband’s short nails scratching at the back of his neck as he maneuvered him the way he wanted. Arthur let him, like he always did, his mind melting as he lost himself to the heat of the sun behind him and the hot, panting breaths that escaped Merlin’s lips whenever they parted for a moment, just to press even closer amongst the grass.
Merlin was also remarkably relaxed. Usually he carried a bit of tension about him, but being in their home had loosened his muscles and his spine, leaving him slack on the ground beneath him, his lips lazy as they slid along his own. Arthur always wanted this, strived to make it happen as much as possible — for Merlin to feel safe and not like the world was out to get him, to let him rest and not worry too much about anything, if just for a moment. He took on so much these days, and now it was Arthur’s job to take the weight off his shoulders.
As if he could hear him, Merlin hummed in approval and attempted to tug him closer, wanting to eliminate the space between them and mesh the lines of their bodies together. Just as eager, Arthur was just about to oblige and roll fully on top of him when he felt a beak peck sharply at his head.
“Ow!” he yelped, rolling away from the pecking as his hand came to clutch his hair.
He was faced by a disapproving Martha, their older hen. She squawked something in his face and flapped her wings, then waddled over to comfort Ophelia, who was hiding her beak in her plumage like she was embarrassed.
“Sorry, forgot we had company,” Merlin said breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. His smile was wide and unapologetic, a dimple forming in his cheek that Arthur wanted to kiss.
Martha made a warbling noise of displeasure and trotted off with the younger hen.
Arthur grumbled unhappily at being interrupted. “They should be more grateful. We’re feeding them, aren’t we?”
“Mm, and punishing them with scandalous sights,” Merlin teased.
Arthur muttered, “I’ll show you ‘scandalous’,” and gave him another peck on the lips.
It wasn’t the same, though. Something was off — his husband was distracted, a little more tense. Arthur pulled away and gave him a questioning look, brows furrowed. Merlin, knowing he was caught, sighed reluctantly and let his smile weaken as he looked off into the distance, his eyes lost in thought.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Merlin shook his head. “Just had a thought. This weekend is supposed to be relaxing. What I’m thinking about doesn’t fit into that. It’s fine, we should go eat now.”
Ah. The worry had crept back in already. To be fair, he’d known it would happen soon; Merlin was a worrier at heart.
Arthur took his hand, squeezing slightly. “I don’t care about that. What is it?”
“Arthur—” Merlin protested.
“I’m serious.”
Merlin huffed, reluctantly defeated. “Fine, alright.” His eyes were a deep blue as he looked to the sky. “You remember the attack? In Diagon Alley?”
“Yes,” Arthur replied slowly, his face growing serious. “What about it?”
“I’ve been thinking. What if it happens again and we’re not there to stop it this time?” Merlin pursed his lips in distress. Not knowing what else to do, Arthur simply tangled their fingers together. “The fact that we were there was a minor miracle, really. And… that potion…”
He didn’t seem to want to finish that thought. Arthur didn’t want to speak of it, either — it was an awful thought, the mere possibility that a little girl could have been harmed in such a cruel, gruesome way.
“Are you sure that it was explosive?” Merlin asked, but it was a half-hearted attempt. “It could’ve been something else.”
“Macnair clearly wanted to take down the entire street. They prevented anyone from leaving, so they wanted as many casualties as possible. He was even willing to take the potion himself, so he knew that he was probably going to die if that girl drank it,” Arthur said reluctantly. “Merlin, you know I wouldn’t suggest the idea if I wasn’t sure.”
“I know. Something just feels so off, but I don’t know what it is,” his husband whispered. There was a pain in his expression, and Arthur ached, knowing that Merlin could sense a pattern recurring somewhere, but unable to correctly identify it. “What possible strategy is it, blowing up a school shopping centre?”
Arthur hummed in thought. “They probably just wanted to unsettle people, show that the Ministry isn’t all that in control even after the fall of Riddle. What better way than to prove that they can’t even keep people’s children safe?” One of their other hens, Georgina, came over to nip at Merlin’s hair. “Or it could be personal. Riddle was very focused on Hogwarts as well, wasn’t he? Maybe they wanted people to distrust Dumbledore himself, too.”
Merlin suddenly sat up, running a hand through his hair to smooth it out again. Georgina hobbled away indignantly. “You think so?” he said, his voice shaking. “Oh, gods. You really think they might be coming for Hogwarts next?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Arthur replied firmly.
“What are we going to do?” Merlin muttered. He covered his mouth like he might be sick, slightly muffling his voice. “How do we find these people, when we don’t even know if they exist? What if the attack was just a distraction?”
“Distraction from what?”
“I don’t know!” Merlin looked at him, his eyes a little wild. “Fuck, I don’t know, Arthur. I feel like I’m going crazy. Am I being paranoid again? Seeing things that aren’t there?”
Arthur placed his hands on either side of Merlin’s head, applying a gentle pressure. “You’re still here. I’m still here," he said, rubbing his thumb along his cheek. "It’s going to be fine. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”
Merlin took a deep breath and nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into his touch. He could see his husband trying to focus on the sounds of the earth, rather than the sounds of his mind, and after a few minutes, his shoulders slumped, the crease between his brows smoothing out. When he opened his eyes, they were dimming from a bright gold.
He turned to kiss his palm. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Arthur caressed his face one more time, then moved back. Merlin leaned on his hand perched behind him in the grass, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Arthur, did the potion look the same as the other ones we’ve seen?”
“Fairly similar,” Arthur admitted. “Of course, without testing it, it’s hard to say with complete certainty. It could be a new and improved variety.”
“Shit,” his husband muttered. “I thought we destroyed the rest of the last ones…”
“It’s not exactly the hardest potion to make. Someone could’ve memorized it, recreated it.”
“Yes, but forty years later?” Merlin huffed. “Isn’t that a long time for humans? This is ridiculous.”
Arthur had nothing to say to that. Forty years was definitely a stretch, he knew that.
“Maybe we can break into the Ministry,” Merlin suggested after a moment, as if that was a completely normal thing to say. It was an insane thing to even think of — Arthur wondered if his husband heard what came out of his mouth sometimes. “If we find the potion, I can test it, maybe we can figure out an antidote if they’ve altered it. Besides, if this whole thing is as organized as I think it is, they’ve probably got other ideas in mind for it besides Diagon Alley.”
“Merlin,” Arthur groaned, looking to the sky. It was a school night, how did Merlin expect them to pull this off before tomorrow’s classes? “Are you seriously suggesting we break into the British magical government, which, I’ll remind you, is newly stabilized and likely on high alert for another attack? You’re going to put us on the headlines again.”
Merlin grinned and shrugged. “It’ll be fun. Besides, it can’t be that hard." He leaned over and kissed him again, like that was supposed to convince him. "Come on, Arthur, where’s your sense of adventure?” he murmured.
Arthur tried not to get distracted, but Merlin kissing him wasn't helping. “But you can’t mean now, surely?” he said skeptically as Merlin toyed with his shirt.
"No, of course not," he said. "I mean tonight. I'm busy right now. Ow!” Merlin backed off and waved his pecked hand in the air, pouting at Martha for the attack. “Really??”
Martha squawked angrily.
“How did the meeting with McGonagall go?” Xander asked as Bill exited McGonagall’s office, straightening from where he’d been sitting on the floor outside to wait for him. He had scrolls of parchment around him and books propped open as he finished off some of their first homework assignments of the semester, but he began to pack his things away when Bill emerged.
His friend had refused to leave him alone for a second this weekend, knowing that Pendragon was gone. Every meal, every walk through the hallways — Xander had assigned himself to be his personal bodyguard, basically. While Bill really did appreciate it, honestly it did make him feel a bit weak.
He shrugged sadly. “Was okay, but she said basically what Pendragon said. Can’t do anything until they have proof. Apparently Taylor’s family will kick up a fuss if they make a big deal of this without anything but my word, and the school can’t afford that at the moment. At the very least, they might be able to give Taylor detention.”
Xander sputtered for a moment, gesturing to Bill’s face, where his black eye was still an ugly mix of yellow and purple. “Wh- That’s- Their proof is right there! What the hell?! What more do they want?! Does your word just count for nothing??”
Bill shrugged again, offering a hand to his friend to haul him off the ground. He didn’t really want to talk about this anymore. It was just exhausting to think about. Honestly, he wondered if this was worth all the effort…
As they walked back to the common room, he repeated what McGonagall had said to him. “I need a witness,” he sighed, “but I can’t remember anybody. I was just so focused on getting away that I didn’t pay attention to who was watching. Of course, there’s Taylor’s friends, but they won’t turn on him.”
They passed a few people in the halls, but thankfully, it wasn’t anyone Bill recognised. Most people were probably doing homework by now, or running around outside. He was so tired that he kind of just wanted to fall back asleep.
“There’s got to be someone,” Xander insisted. As they arrived at the Fat Lady, he gave the password (‘hippogriff’), then continued their conversation as they walked up to the boys’ dorms. “Taylor isn’t that smart, is he?” he grumbled.
“Sorry, Xander. There’s no one,” Bill muttered, feeling utterly defeated.
Maybe he would just have to hide in girls’ bathrooms forever. It was hopeless, wasn’t it? At least no one would follow him there.
He frowned. Wait. Was that true?
Bill stopped in the middle of the stairs. “Huh,” he said. “Maybe… no, that’s actually the daftest idea I think I’ve ever had.”
“What is it?” Xander asked patiently from the step above him, tilting his head. “Did you think of something?”
“I think Jadmani heard the whole thing,” Bill admitted. “Did I tell you that? She was the one that found me in the girls’ bathroom right before flying class. She walked me to class that day.”
“Bollocks,” his friend cursed, rubbing his eyes. Bill blinked in surprise at him. Xander gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, mate, but you can’t ask her. Merlin’s pants, of all the people to witness Taylor being an arse, it had to be Jadmani? I can’t even believe she walked you to class actually. You sure you didn’t hallucinate that?”
Bill sulked. “I know, it’s weird. I don’t know why I even brought it up.” He tapped his finger on the banister, thinking. “I think she felt bad, though? In a weird way. So maybe I should ask anyway. No harm in it, is there?”
“She’s going to say no,” Xander said gently. “Slytherins stick together. She can’t turn on someone from her House, she’d get exiled.”
Bill winced. “Ah. Right…”
It was his only option, though. Crap… What was he going to do?
He shook his head and followed his friend back up to the dorms.
Xander changed the subject. “Hey, who else do you think we should invite to Pendragon’s super secret club?” he asked with excitement, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
“Oh, right. I wanted to invite Olive and Meredith,” Bill said hesitantly. “I don’t know if they’d say yes, though.
Xander’s face scrunched in confusion. “Huh? Who?”
“I met them on the train,” he explained as Xander opened the door to the first year dorms. “They’re from other Houses, so I haven’t seen them much since the Sorting Ceremony. Maybe this way, I can see them more often.”
Once inside, his friend immediately started kicking off his shoes.
“Xander, seriously?” their other friend, Felix, complained from his bed. Several of the other boys groaned at them to be quiet so that they could sleep. Mid-day naps were quite popular in their room, it seemed. Bill couldn’t wait to get in on that. “Where were you guys?”
Xander ignored him. “You have two girlfriends, Bill?” he whispered, bewildered.
Felix’s jaw dropped. “Bill has girlfriends?! Plural??”
Shocked, Bill hissed, “What?! No! They’re just friends!”
"Friends who happen to be girls!" Xander said.
“Seriously? Why does Bill get the girls?” Felix complained, flopping back onto his pillow dramatically.
Bill stuck his tongue out at him, crossing his arms in offence.
“What year are they?” Xander asked eagerly as he shed his robes and tie. He threw his socks onto the ground with little care.
“Second,” he admitted reluctantly, avoiding his friends’ eyes and instead looking at his shoes.
Felix’s voice went shrill. “Second?!”
They were shushed again. Loudly. None of them listened, though.
Xander reached out and ruffled his hair playfully. “Mate, say no more, you’re inviting them. Felix, want to come?”
Felix was already nodding emphatically. “I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but yes.”
“You both suck,” Bill grumbled, trying to smooth out his hair. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Xander said cheekily. “You loooove us.”
Bill bent down and picked up one of the socks his friend had taken off — ew, it was damp! — and threw it at him.
Bertie Blankley was a guard in the Ministry just trying to climb the ranks to be a proper Auror. It had always been his dream to fight crime, to protect their streets from any evil and lock up those who deserved it. After He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he’d gotten a glimpse of that — the Ministry had needed all hands on deck to fight the Death Eaters, so Bertie had been ordered to help and it had felt fantastic to finally be getting his hands dirty.
But now he was demoted back down to just a guard. It was a little frustrating, but he knew what he was doing was still important. Despite trying to keep it all ‘hush hush,’ there had been numerous attacks throughout the wizarding community — he wasn’t even supposed to know this, technically, but he’d heard plenty of whispers from his superiors about it.
He had to ensure that the Ministry wouldn’t fall and if guarding a door helped with that, then so be it…
Bertie sighed and checked the time to see how close it was to the end of his shift, looking up at the clock on the wall made of swirling golden metals and black marble. He’d been standing in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for ages now, guarding one of the main offices that was typically used for major investigations. His superior officer had expressed to him just how important it was that this particular investigation was kept secret and secure, so he hadn’t moved from this spot for nearly eight hours. He was starving… just a sandwich sounded like heaven.
He wondered what could possibly be so important that he couldn’t even have a five minute break. Did they find the whereabouts of more Death Eaters? He really wanted to know! It was unnaturally quiet in there, but he figured that the Aurors had put silencing charms on the door to prevent any eavesdropping. Seriously, what could be so sensitive that they’d go to such lengths to protect it from their own employees?
With fifteen minutes left to his shift, a paper plane flew above his head, gliding through a small entrance just above the door meant for the messages that were frequently sent back and forth through the building. A few seconds later, Bertie was nearly run over when the door burst open and a team of Aurors came flooding out, dashing in the direction of the fireplaces in a chaotic mass.
“Hey! What’s happened?” Bertie tried to ask as he stumbled out of the way, rubbing his shoulder. He was merely ignored, which he was a little miffed about.
“Blankley!” Bertie’s boss, Auror Atkinson, barked as he exited the room behind everyone, his expression fierce. Merlin, those eyebrows snuck their way into his nightmares sometimes!
Bertie immediately straightened, his arms snapping to his sides. “Sir?”
His boss was holding a letter of some sort, and he figured it must have been the message that had floated in just now. What in Merlin’s name had been so important?? Come on, he just wanted a clue!!
“Guard the room until we return. Do not let anyone in or I swear to Merlin—” Atkinson hissed, his eyes frantic, and he didn’t wait for Bertie to confirm before he left in pursuit of his team.
Kind of terrified now that his job was on the line, Bertie quickly spelled the doors shut again and put his back to it, listening to the roars of the green flames from the other room as the team flooed themselves away.
This could be his chance. No one would know if he just took a peek… and it would only be a second— oh, for Merlin’s sake! No, no, he couldn’t, he’d lose his job. It was best to just stay curious in this case, wasn’t it? Right…
Even if it would be really easy, and he would finally know what he was guarding… Still, best not to. Right?
Reese Peterson arrived back to his home, weary from the day. He shucked his outer robes off, throwing them on the sofa and telling himself that he’d clean it up later. Based on the pile of clothes already underneath, though, it was… statistically unlikely.
His stomach growled. He was rather faint, having not eaten in several long hours. He made his way to the kitchen, opening the cabinets to find them empty.
“Damn,” he muttered. It wasn’t any use to try cooking in this state, as mentally exhausted as he was.
Feeling sorry for himself, he settled for grabbing a dirty mug from the sink, one with dried coffee rings around the inside, and filled it with water. He gulped it down.
Reese figured that he should probably be working on his next story, but he didn’t have any motivation. Everything was closing in around him, lately, so how could he possibly write? And he hadn’t been able to see his lover in weeks, either. She was just too busy with her new… friend group.
He didn’t like those people. After what happened in Diagon Alley… it was just too far. There was nothing he could do that would convince her to leave it, though, even as the organization grew more and more out of control.
As a result of all of this, his writing was becoming steadily worse recently and his boss was starting to notice, which wasn’t good. Reese was The Daily Prophet’s best reporter by all standards — better than that woman Skeeter, at least — so he usually made it to the front page with his stories. However, for the past few weeks, he’d been stuck with small columns.
He’d loved being a reporter when he first started. He wasn’t sure he felt that way anymore. He wished he could just run away with his girlfriend, start a new life somewhere. Maybe to America, they probably had all sorts of journalism positions over there.
Would she even want to go with him anymore?
Reese rubbed his eyes, frustrated with himself, and startled at the sound of the front door opening. He peeked out of the kitchen and a spark of excitement ran through his tired muscles.
“Lorelei!” he whispered. He didn’t know why he was whispering, but it was too quiet and he didn’t want to disturb the peace.
“Hello, Reese,” she whispered back, a tentative smile on her face. Merlin, she looked just as tired as he felt.
He ran over to her, drinking in the sight of her pretty chocolate hair and the swirling silver jewellery adorning her fingers and collarbones. Gathering her in his arms, just a waif of a thing, he breathed in the soft, floral scent of her perfume, letting it travel through his lungs and meld into his bloodstream.
“I missed you, too,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.” She pulled back, cradling his face in her cold, delicate fingers. Reese melted into her hands, relishing the caress of her thumb on his cheek. “You look awful,” she said sadly.
“It’s been…” Reese shut his eyes. “A rough week.”
Lorelei hummed in concern. “When was the last time you ate something?” she asked.
“This morning, I think,” he admitted, abashed.
“Reese,” she scolded softly. “Sit down. I’ll bring you some tea, alright? You need to rest.”
He leaned in to kiss her, savoring the taste of her. “Thank you, darling,” he breathed across her lips. “What would I do without you?”
Lorelei smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was something sad about her, like an aura of defeat, but he didn’t know how to help, or even what the problem was. He hoped that spending some time together would resolve her worries, at least.
Reese sat down on his sofa, self-consciously shoving his dirty clothes away as Lorelei made her way to the kitchen. Merlin, he really needed to straighten up the place… He hadn’t even realised how bad it had gotten until now. His used dishes were all over the place, clothes and papers thrown onto every available surface. Knowing that Lorelei had seen it all made him burn with shame.
She was an angel, though. Lorelei returned swiftly and made no comment about the mess at all, holding two mugs of steaming hot tea and handing him one. Gracefully, she sat next to him, drawing her legs up next to her.
“Drink that,” she said gently. “Then we’ll think about dinner, okay?”
He nodded obediently and blew the steam away, then brought the mug to his lips. Lorelei sipped at hers as well, watching him as he drank.
He licked his lips, pulling the mug away to inspect it. “What kind of tea is this?” he asked. “It has a strange aftertaste.”
“It’s one of those funny herbal kinds that I like,” Lorelei said. “Come on, drink the rest. You’ll feel better.”
Reese nodded and gulped it down, ignoring his burnt tongue. The sting was a little comforting, anyway. “Ugh, that’s awful,” he said. “I don’t know how you drink these. It’s so bitter.”
Lorelei didn’t respond. Reese looked over to her and saw her pretty eyes filling with tears, shining dimly in the light emanating from the kitchen and the light of the moon filtering through the window.
“Darling?” Reese said, alarmed. He grabbed both of their mugs and set them on the table, then grabbed her hands. His stomach was starting to cramp up, but he ignored it for her sake. Dinner could come later — right now, he needed to comfort his lover. “Darling, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to his. “Oh, Reese. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why did you talk to the Aurors?”
“What?” Reese asked. He winced a little, his hand pressing to his stomach as the cramps got worse. This wasn’t hunger, surely? This— Reese froze. “Lorelei, what did you do?”
Lorelei sobbed, clutching his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded, pressing her lips to his knuckles. “Please forgive me.”
“What’s happening?” Reese panted, curling in on himself as the pain in his abdomen spread like a burning fire consuming all of his organs. “What did you give me?” he wheezed out, beginning to cough.
“I love you,” she said. The sound of her voice came to him like he was underwater. “I have to go now, Reese.”
“Don’t go,” he pleaded, tears squeezing past his eyes against his will, splashing uselessly to the floor in a red stain. “Please. Lorelei, please. I won’t tell anyone anything, I swear!”
“It’s too late.” His lover faded into wisps of black as she apparated away, and that was the last thing he saw before everything went loud and bright.