Suspended in Time

The house was still and silent now. Cobwebs were draped over the rotting beams crisscrossed on the ceiling, and a thick coating of dust lay on the furniture that hadn’t been touched in years. How many was it, now? Twenty? Thirty? All sense of time seemed to have gone from the place; it rested, soaked in sadness and neglect, suspended in time.

A faint, unidentifiable feeling hung in the air. Was it desolation? Despondency?

No …

The place reeked with despair, yes, but, like the edge of a faint dream, there resided something else in the crumbling walls and creaking beams. Once acknowledged, it refused to subside. It pressed in on all sides, a feeling which would make tears well up in even the coldest of hearts. It ached and it moaned, but at the same time it throbbed with hope, with a faith and optimism that seemed so unnatural for such a dilapidated place.

Perhaps this anticipation was well-founded, for, on this particular summer evening, an event would occur which had not taken place in decades.

The house was surrounded by fields, the kind which may have once been called beautiful. Indeed, among the weeds there was the hint of what was once a garden, but the late summer sun had scorched the flowers with their lack of water: with no inhabitants to prohibit dehydration, the drought which had swept the county that year fell on this secluded spot with full force.

It was for this reason, then, that the first footsteps to have pierced the silence in many years were able to be heard with such clarity – if, of course, there had been anyone to witness them.

Dead leaves crunching under boots, the young man acknowledged how, in this place, it seemed summer had come too soon. The red glow of the sun on the horizon cast ominous shadows and he tightened his grasp on her hand.

Although he said nothing, she could sense his grief.

As they neared the almost-ruin, his breathing became faster and louder. To some who did not know the man, he may have seemed frightened, but she knew better: she knew that if she looked up, she would see tears glistening in his eyes for the house and the past that should have been his.

Invisible to the eyes of Muggles, an aura of magic still hung around the place, and, as if there were an invisible barrier obstructing their path, the couple stopped a few metres short of the door. Somehow, it seemed disrespectful for them to enter without permission.

He dropped her hand and stepped away, but the distant expression in his eyes as he stared at the house told her that he was not to be followed. This was something he had to do on his own.

Moving around to the side of the house, his throat felt constricted. Somewhere inside, he felt ridiculous – why should he miss this place when he couldn’t even remember it? He took a step towards the decrepit wall and reached out to touch it. As his fingers made contact with the dried-up bricks, dust crumbled off on his fingers and he withdrew. Moving as slowly as he could, he walked back to where she was waiting for him, but he did not stop. He pulled open the door, feeling inexplicably as if he was trespassing although this house had been out of use for twenty-one years. The creak that accompanied his entrance, although ominous, seemed somehow to be sighing in relief: was this what this house was waiting for? For there certainly was a feeling of anticipation, almost as if the building were holding its breath, he realised. He let the door swing shut behind him, blocking out the sound of the wind and the sight of the woman who had accompanied him. He would share this with her when he was ready.

Inside, it was a lonely, silent world. Red light flooded into the room he was now standing in through plastic windows set into the deteriorating walls, illuminating the edges of ordinary household objects that seemed almost out of place in the desolation and wretchedness of the surroundings.

A book lay open on a nearby table. The thick coating of dust proved it hadn’t been moved in years, and even as he carefully blew away the layer of grime, he realised that the writing was indistinguishable from the page as it had faded with the twenty one summers it had seen come and go. He passed a finger over the surface, and the paper crumbled at his touch. He turned to the rest of the table, relishing in the ability to move slowly, almost without purpose – here he hadn’t to worry about hurrying, here he was free: here he was suspended in time.

He explored the room, peering closely into corners and searching out long-forgotten objects he wondered if he remembered. He didn’t know how long he spent in that room, but when he began to squint in the ever fading light of the sunset, he went to a window and looked out, trying to catch her eye, and bring her in on this same magic that almost made him feel at home in this place.

His heart skipped a beat as he saw she had left. Yes – of course she had left. Inside the house, it felt as if he had all the time in the world, but he knew she must have grown bored of waiting in the chilly evening breeze, and left him. She would probably be feeling ill already anyway – her morning sickness kicked in early. His heart sinking even lower, he continued to peer out of the window, searching the darkness for any sign of her –

He almost laughed with relief. There she was: sitting in the grass and picking at daisy stems! Almost as if she could sense his stare, she suddenly looked up and flashed him the beautiful smile that never failed to fill him with adoration. He gazed at her as she again bowed her head and allowed her silvery-blond hair to fall over her face. Suddenly, he saw her start in surprise – what was wrong?

His heartbeat quickening, he made his way as quickly as he dared back towards the door. He didn’t stop as he inadvertently dislodged a tiny picture frame and sent it falling to the ground, only to be caught in the remains of a spider’s web halfway down. It hung there, suspended in the silvery threads like some obscure fly.

As he opened the door, and the cool wind hit him in a way that reminded him there was, in fact, time outside of this ruin, he was surprised to see she was no longer sitting down, but laughing hysterically, running towards him. The last of the red sunlight was glinting on her hair and her eyes were sparkling with delight. He had never seen her look so alive.

“Teddy!�

Out of instinct, seeing her running towards him, he held out his arms to catch her, and, laughing with delight, she collided with him. With no idea what was going on, but a feeling of euphoria spreading through him nonetheless, he spun her round in the half-light, grinning.

When he set her down, she immediately grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach.

“She kicked me, Teddy!�

Understanding dawning in his eyes, Teddy’s face lit up. He bent down, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her. It was a kiss full of sweetness and joy, the kind that he remembered vividly them sharing the morning she told him she was to have a baby. Then he laughed. “You still insist it’s a girl?�

“Well,� she said, looking down her nose at him mockingly, “I don’t think it’s very fatherly to call your child an It, now, is it?� She grinned. “Plus, I’m her mother. I can so tell,� she added wisely.

Teddy took both of her hands in his own, and stared down at his wife. He had always known she was beautiful: having practically grown up at her cousins’ house, there was hardly a week where he didn’t see her at least twice. He could remember spending countless summers playing in the park with her, and countless winters huddled in the Potter’s living room amongst her many, many whiney little cousins. Best of all, he could still taste the sweetness of their first kiss as she left for the first time on the journey to Hogwarts where he could not follow. Chuckling slightly to himself, he recalled in his mind that particular day when she had asked him to marry her …


“NO! Give it back! That’s MINE!�

“I’ll never give it back, I’ll never give it back, never, never, never…� she chanted, holding the little plastic – struggling, it had to be said – action figure high above her head.

With no effort whatsoever, Teddy reached up and grabbed her hand. She, however, refused to let go of the figure, and the three of them continued to struggle.

“NON! Tu es si eunnuyant!�

“Victoiiiiiiiiire,� Teddy whined, “it’s not fair when you speak French at me!� He let go of her hand.

Victoire giggled, waving the figure at him mockingly. “You held my hand, Teddy Lupin! You loooove me!�

Teddy looked stricken. “I never held your hand! I was just trying to get my man back!�

Victoire started dancing around him in circles, still holding the toy in question high above her head. “Teddy loves me! You do, don’t you Teddy?�

“NO! No, I don’t!� Teddy insisted, looking genuinely upset.

Stopping suddenly, Victoire swiftly stepped in front of him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Teddy could feel his face burning as he furiously scrubbed at the place where her lips had touched him with his sleeve. “That’s DISGUSTING!�

Victoire giggled again. When she saw the look he was giving her, she faltered. “Why don’t you love me, Teddy Lupin?�

Teddy narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ve always said you wanted to marry that Quidditch player.�

Victoire looked delighted. “But if he won’t have me?�

Teddy’s face was unreadable. “So what?�

“Well, what then? Will you aime me?�

“No,� Teddy persisted.

“I’ll make a deal with you,� Victoire said matter-of-factly, “If I never marry Adrian Parsons, then will you marry me instead?�

For a moment, Teddy seemed as though he was going to make a snide remark in reply, but then he seemed to give in. “Fine,� he said reluctantly, “but only if you give me back my figure…�





Now staring into the eyes of the woman who, at six years old, had practically bribed him into engagement, Teddy was filled with adoration and love for their unborn child. He saw her shiver slightly, and pulled her towards the door of the house.

“Come on in, beautiful.�

As they stepped inside, closing the creaking door behind them, something to their left caught Teddy’s eye. Bending down, he picked the barely-bigger-than-his-hand photo frame out of its spider’s web and blew the dust off it. His heart almost stopped when he saw what it contained.

He wasn’t sure how long he was staring at the picture of the man and his wife and their tiny turquoise-haired baby, but it must have been some time before Victoire gently took his hand again and lead him into the living room. He could no longer tell whether it was evening or night, the only thing that was real was the soft pressure of her hand inside his, and the faded picture, illuminated only by the weak shine of the moon outside the grime-lined windows. She lead him to the sofa, and they sat down together.

As if by instinct, Teddy laid his head in her lap, his nose touching the warm swell of her tummy, and she started to stroke his hair. He closed his eyes, and was surprised to find that no tears leaked from under his eyelids. The last time there had been such a peaceful, but utterly heartbroken silence between the two of them was barely a year ago, after Teddy had rushed a bleeding Victoire into St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, for them to find out an hour later that their first baby – a boy, Victoire had insisted – would never actually come into their lives.

This house seemed to share their anguish. After the miscarriage, Victoire had seemed like a ghost of a woman, and her husband a ghost of a man. Their days were filled with an unspoken sentiment of hopelessness, and the pain which both of them experienced seemed almost at the point of breaking the very foundations of their relationship.

This house was a ghost of a house. The very walls ached with misery, the air thick with the suffering that was the emptiness which resided after the family never returned from the fight.

But in both tragedies rested the tiny seed that was hope.

By returning to this place, the secret of his childhood, Teddy Lupin was able to close the cavernous hole that was the lack of his family. And by the conception of his unborn child, he and his wife had the chance to work through the gaping crack in their own family.

He had needed to come here.



Neither of them slept. They stayed in the same position for hours. How many was it – three? Four? They seemed to have lost track of everything as they rested in each others’ arms, both caught in their own half-memories, suspended in time.

And silent, comforting, the house guarded them.