“It happens,” said Gideon, barely keeping himself together.
Gideon was desperate to see eye to eye on this. He was a good man, Fabian, a loyal friend, but he went through women like nobody’s business. Nervous, his hands shaking, Gideon lit another cigarette and thanked Merlin he wasn’t speaking with Auguste. The Frenchman would have been his second confidant, of course, that is, if Gideon could have gotten two words out. Like him, Annette saw both Auguste and Fabian as her brothers. She had another brother, David, but as far as Gideon was concerned, that man never strayed far from his quiet life with his boyfriend and the restoration of the steeples of historical architecture.
“I don’t know why,” he continued, thinking that perhaps Fabian did not catch his words. Perhaps he had been thinking of something else. He cleared his throat loudly and flicked a few spent ashes off his cigarette, “and I feel awful. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Gideon stopped short, not admitting that what he’d meant to say is that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Narcissa. Her hair, her voice, her perfume, her kiss: these thoughts flooded his mind, eclipsing his worries of his missing wife. Yes, he thought about Annette every waking moment, too, but as time passed, he felt less trapped by the depressing things he’d imagined. They’d find her. In fact, and here was the good news, they’d already found her at Malfoy Manor.
“Good.” Fabian crossed his arms and met him with a cold stare. Gideon looked up, completely taken aback by his brother’s unusual sharpness. Fabian didn’t care. “You’ve lost your damn mind.”
Gideon couldn’t argue with that. “You don’t understand“”
“”and you think I’m an idiot? Yes, Gideon, we all feel sorry for you whilst we’re breaking our necks,” said Fabian, throwing up his hands, “and Mad-Eye, and René, and especially Professor Dumbledore have given you space. What about them? If this were anyone else “ Have you even bothered to tell Molly?”
Gideon shook his head and stared at the floor whilst he counted the dark tiles. “I can’t.”
“This is not about you.” Fabian laughed humourlessly. “You are not me, so you don’t get to act like me or blame me because I act the way I do. Don’t you come at me with Marlene this or Marlene that. You’re married “ it’s different. Annie has put up with you for a long, long time, and she’s never dragged on about anything. Not even your sock thing, seeing as you have an issue about throwing your clothes in the hamper and leaving them in the wash. And the small rooms thing?”
“I’m claustrophobic,” Gideon pointed out.
“And she’s your wife,” Fabian countered evenly, refusing to change the subject, “and I don’t know much about women, but she’s a good one, and if I had her, I’d kiss arse everyday because she “ I love her. She’s like my sister, and you know how I get when people talk about Molly. Gideon, she’s put up with your shit forever. You’ve a house in Calais, so that you could spend holidays with her family and you don’t even live there. And you’ve pushed her through all these kids “ that’s you, not her, stop looking at me like that “ are you kidding me?”
Gideon had nothing but an ancient excuse to explain why he’d fallen for another woman. The fact that she was Narcissa Malfoy had nothing to do with it; she was just there. Had Mr. Davies’s scribe pulled him into a private room, Gideon guessed he’d be in the same bind with her, too, because she had nice legs. He knew that he could never really know the answer to that question and it would be matrimonial suicide for him to jump on that offer, but that’s how little his choice had mattered. Everything had gone along quite smoothly with Annette as long as they focused on each other and nobody else. This proved an impossible task because they lived with two families that both survived and thrived on catchy rumours and gossip. Nothing stayed private.
Yes, Gideon was wrong. Yes, he knew better and, yes, he’d suffer the consequences.
“So when René comes after you””
“He already did,” said Gideon. He conveniently left out that René didn’t know the whole story.
“Ah. You’re still standing without something strange sticking out of your ears?”
Fabian looked at him carefully as they walked towards the door. Anger rarely took him, and whenever it did, it was quickly spent. They walked out of the room and down the corridors. Gideon dared not ask why they strode right past the twelve fireplaces. Fabian waved at the security wizard and walked straight into a red telephone box. It was a tight fit indeed. Gideon, who was flattened against the window pane with the side of his face glued to the glass, decided he’d never take the Visitor’s Entrance again. Fabian to reach over his head and muttered the correct numbers. The automated cool voice sounded like a crafty, smooth insult. An old man who read the paper by the ticket machines dropped his paper in a nearby puddle as he watched two grown idiots pull themselves out of a tiny box. Gideon, hoarse from screaming as the box shot through the air, had to have his brother pull him out and stood stock still, like a child learning to walk, as he took small steps. For the life of him, Gideon couldn’t remember how he’d managed this with Annette just a couple of months ago. He leaned over and opened his mouth.
“Nasty.” Fabian stepped carefully, avoiding the sick. “You’ve done this before.”
“I hate you.” Gideon gripped the bench that the old man was seating on and thanked him for a handkerchief as he watched the ticket taker devour paper.
“No problem. No, you keep it.” The man shook his head and checked his watch. “What’re you fools doing in that thing? It’s outta order, and only one idiot needs to make a call.”
“Thanks very much,” said Gideon, distracted.
They walked for a while in silence and Gideon didn’t worry about coming up with something clever on the way home. When they reached the familiar iron gate and the red door, he just stopped. A thin Frenchman appeared and started walking with a very pregnant woman by his side. He held her close and held a black umbrella over their heads. The man wore casual clothing and there was a simple black dress draped over the woman’s frame; her hair fell down her back in a single plait. They had the same eyes. She had to stop at the lamppost after a few paces and catch her breath.
“What’s she doing here?” asked Fabian.
Gideon gasped when somebody grabbed him from behind. Something brushed against his skin and he could tell that it was Narcissa, his late night visitor who always showed up unannounced. She led him through the gate into the courtyard garden and acted as though they were finishing up a night stroll. Gideon went pale and cursed himself when she pressed her cold lips to his neck and massaged his shoulders. He moaned. Annette and her brother, as luck would have it, saw the whole thing as they crossed the street.
“What the hell are you doing?” Auguste demanded, furious.
“No. No, Narcissa, no.” Gideon untangled himself free from her and wished to wipe that hideous smirk off her beautiful features. “This is nothing.”
That proved the wrong answer. Gideon got the air knocked out of him when Auguste lifted him off the ground and slammed him against the wall. His fist slammed Gideon’s jaw as he came at him relentlessly , releasing his anger, hitting him again and again. After the first few blows, Gideon realised he couldn’t fight against him. Fabian, luckily, jumped right in, trying to pull the man off, but Auguste had hit his stride and it was to no avail.
“Oh my God.” Annette froze, stunned. Her pleas reached a screech and Fabian grabbed her, protecting her from harm. “Stop! Stop it right now, you fools! What are you doing? STOP!”
“I own you. Everything you are is because of me, Prewett, you hear me?” Auguste dropped his hand, taking short breaths. He punched the wall, his fury driving him, and felt no pain.
“No, no, Annette,” Gideon pleaded with her as she walked right past them, and he took her by the arm. She refused to look at them; he spat blood onto the pavement. “Don’t do this. It’s not like that. Come on, Annette, Annie!”
Annette swung her arm back. “No.”
Gideon stood there, dumbstruck.
“I’d do anything for you and you’re“” Annette gestured wordlessly at Narcissa.
Auguste helped her up the staircase and the brothers followed them. Annette walked over to her dog and snatched things out of the armoire.
“Stop.” Gideon took the bag from her and took her by the wrists. Auguste started muttering threats, too, which made things difficult. “Listen to me. You don’t understand. LOOK AT ME!”
Annette turned towards him.
“I love you, Annette, I love you.” Gideon gestured wildly at the open door. “Her? I don’t know her.”
“Really?” Auguste lacquered each syllable with sarcasm.
“Let me go.” Annette picked up her things and packed the bag, speaking with her brother.
“Calais? No. You’re overreacting. Come on!” Gideon cursed when she plucked her passport and birth certificate out of the fireproof box where they kept their documents and jewellery. “You’re not in a right state to travel, so that’s out of the question. Let me explain!”
“Let me explain? Is that what you just said? You’ve no idea “ Don’t touch me.” Annette backed away from him; she looked like a dead corpse, pale and drained. She tried to take off her wedding band, but her fingers were swollen. “Damn it. This is my family. My family.”
“I did this for you and the””
“She’s my daughter! Mine.” She handed her bag to Auguste and hugged Fabian, who tried to talk her down. “It’s not your fault. It “ it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m just tired.”
“Annie,” said Fabian, stroking her face, trying to override her. “Don’t do this, all right? This “ no, this isn’t about him. Please. If you run off to them, to René, I’ll never see you again””
“I need time,” she said sadly, catching herself, “and I can’t - I don’t want to do this alone. Auguste.”
“What?” Auguste looked at her, bored, and hurriedly rushed over to her and caught her, wrapping his arms around her. “Again? Sit down and relax because it’ll pass.”
“”and she’s my goddaughter, and you can’t do this to me. You know why Gideon gets all of Molly’s boys? He’s eldest and he’s helped her through tight spots. Who did I get? Danielle’s mine. Look, I’ve named her, and she’ll never know her cousins, or her mad uncle, and that’s just not fair.”
Annette sat down with her brother and took deep breaths. She raised a hand to silence Fabian. “Give me a moment.”
“Why are you second-guessing?” asked Fabian, stung. “Auguste “ no offense, mate “ he’s old. And Gideon’s right about you leaving for France.”
“I’m not,” she said, quite certain. Auguste put a hand on her back.
“Good.”Fabian clapped his hands, relieved.
“How long?” said Auguste, glancing at his watch. He sounded calm and helped her slip off her shoes and laid her back. “You want me to stay?”
Annette nodded. “Where’s Papa?”
“Rene’s teaching at school, so he’s got classes all day,” said Gideon, confused and scared. She knew that. “Why?”
“Because she asked you, fool! She’s been like this since last night. Just get him,” said Auguste, a little impatient, offering his sister his hand and pulling up a chair, “and brew some coffee, get some towels and blankets, too, because it’ll be a long night.”
“You’ll never sleep with him again,” Auguste chuckled as Annette leaned against the pillows and he covered her legs. He picked up a bundle and spoke softly. “Yes, my wife said that the first time, too, and we have two boys. She lied.”
Gideon laughed nervously as Auguste walked over to his sister.”
“A little girl,” Auguste whispered, kissing the child on the forehead as he handed her over. He laid her on Annette’s chest. “Mèmè’s going to spoil her. Spoiled rotten.”
“Papa.” Annette kissed Gideon when he walked over and sat on the foot of the bed. “I was calling the old man, but that works, too. Look. It’s a girl.”
“Yeah.” Gideon gave her a watery smile. When Auguste and René got up to give them some privacy, he shook his head. “Stay. I’m sure Fabian’ll””
“Hey, where’s my kid?” Fabian, who had probably been by the door, walked in without an invitation. “Look at my girl!”
“Your girl? We should’ve known that. Come here.” Annette smiled weakly and handed over the baby. Fabian handled her like a porcelain doll, cradling her in his muscular arms and holding her to his chest, brushing her thick hair. Auguste slipped into the bathroom to wash. “Isn’t she pretty?”
“I could do with another one,” said Fabian, laughing when Annette sighed. “What? She needs a sister or a brother, or both, to have someone to pick on. “Isn’t that right, Elisabeth?”
“We dropped Danielle,” Annette explained.
“Yeah, we covered it whilst she was taking a break from screaming,” said Fabian. “You look like hell.”
“I hate you,” she said.
“No, you hate him,” he corrected her, jabbing a finger at his brother. “Elisabeth Renée Marceau, yeah?”
They nodded.
He gave it one last shot. “Why not Prewett? You tired of me, Annie? You hurt?”
“Yes. It hurts to move and breathing hurts,” she confessed, closing her eyes. “Gideon?”
He hadn’t realised he’d started pacing again. He’d been staring at Elisabeth and he didn’t want to touch her because his hands were shaking so badly. His head felt awful, like a nagging gesture, like nicotine tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. She was a tiny thing, mostly covered by blankets. Her skin flushed with colour and she waved her arm around. He’d dreamed of this moment over and over again, and now that it had finally arrived, and she was well, it felt rather anticlimactic. Elisabeth’s sounds climbed slowly to a cry, and Annette took her as she unhooked her nightshirt.
“Have a smoke,” she suggested, shooing him away after the family.
“Thanks,” he said, relieved, and left the front door open.
“‘Thanks.’ Like she doesn’t know you,” Fabian scoffed, after him outside and closing the door. In one fluid movement René, Auguste and Gideon all lit cigarettes. “I feel like the minority. Of course, you all exhale enough of that stuff for me to get a hit.”
“’Ere.” René shook a packet at him, offering him one.
“Hell, nah.” Fabian burst out laughing. “You’re a professor!”
“Not yours,” René sighed, shrugging. He pocketed his smokes and nodded at Gideon. “Auguste got you hooked? Go ahead. Jacqueline and blame ‘im for everything, too. The weather. The laundry.”
“The currency rate?” Auguste grinned at his grandfather. “You got your girl.”
“’Bout time, too. I was about to go to Celeste and ask her to trick you into knocking her up again.” René pretended that he’d spoken out of turn. “Did I say that out loud? Use protection; it saves lives.”
“Vous avez tort,” said Auguste, smiling at Fabian. “It explains a lot, actually. No, monsieur, I’m finished raising little ones, thank you, but I’ll pass. What say you, Gideon?”
“Piss off. Would you like that in French?” Gideon spent the rest of his smoke and answered him with a hand gesture as he headed back inside and slammed the door on their laughing fit. Annette looked up at him, rubbing Elisabeth as she slept on her chest. “Your brother’s being your brother, that’s all.”
“What’s that?” Annette turned her head at the window.
“Dunno,” said Gideon, getting the latch and letting three handsome owls inside. Two carried a basket in between them, and one held out its leg, offering him Gideon a letter, which he took, and they flew off into the night. A grey owl dropped its rectangular black box and followed them. Gideon slit open the letter with the tip of his wand and read through it. “Oh, that’s nice. This is from Dumbledore; he says you can read this when you feel up to it. Congratulations.”
“Papa must have told him,” she said.
“Hmmm.” Gideon turned his back to her and slid the fine black ribbon off of the other parcel and caught a whiff of a familiar scent. He opened the box and glimpsed at a bottle of cologne wrapped in a delicate green shawl. He stuck his two fingers inside and pulled out a tiny scroll:
If it pleases you, sir.
“What’s that?” Annette raised her voice an octave, for she’d asked this three times.
“This? Oh, this,” he said, pulling himself out of a fantasy and stowing it in this robes. “N-nothing, it’s not “ nothing. She “ I’ll read it later. How’re you feeling? Want something to drink? Good.”
He didn’t bother waiting for an answer and hurried into the kitchen. He put on the kettle and tapped it with his wand. He paced around, burying his face in his hands. He saw flashes of colour and vivid memories flooded his mind, entertaining him. He took out the shawl and laced it through his fingers; it was lacquered with the cologne as if someone had washed it in the fragrance, but he caught a woman’s scent, not his wife’s mixed with it, too.
“Gideon?”
“Shit.” Gideon burned his hand on the range when water boiled over. “Shit!”
“Gideon, love?” Annette sounded worried.
“Everything’s fine. Coming.” Gideon wiped up the mess with a dishrag, left it on the counter, hid the gift, and poured two cups of tea and crushed, stale biscuits before he washed his hands. He walked back in the sitting room and set e tray on the other side of the bed. “I think the others left for breakfast, and this isn’t a proper one. You want something else? I’ll put her in the crib.”
“No. It’s all right.” She nibbled on the biscuits and forced them down without a complaint. She’d check the expiration date later. “Pip should have gone with them. He bit Auguste earlier because he thought that Auguste had hurt me. Did you see his leg?”
Gideon hadn’t noticed. “He bit me, too, and if he keeps doing that, he’s got to go.”
Annette nodded. She watched the dog stroll over and sniff the sleeping infant. Gideon held Pip by the collar just in case. Pip cocked his head to the side when Elisabeth whimpered and jerked her arm. “He doesn’t know what she is.”
“He’s jealous,” said Gideon, scooping Elisabeth up. ”My draft was due at midnight last night. I forgot.”
“Do you care?”
“Nope, not really,” said Gideon, kissing Elisabeth’s tiny hand. “I like angering him because it’s a good pastime, you know.”
“Like football?” Annette pulled the covers up and took her teabag out.
“The man doesn’t know how to argue,” said Gideon, looking around for his briefcase, “and that’s a shame, considering he’s the head of the department and all, and we, usually me, take the punches in his fights. He told me I’d be a better man for his office.”
“He said that?” Annette put her head down and closed her eyes.
“Well, not in those exact words, but yeah,” said Gideon. He didn’t want to go into work and avoided looking at the clock, waiting until the last minute. By that time, they had returned, and he’d mentally run through all his possible excuses. Mr. Davies wouldn’t hear a word of it. Gideon pulled on his favourite old coat, one displaying the French flag. He appealed to Auguste, throwing in his moot point, grinning, “You want to piss off Davies for a day?”
“I’d rather de-gnome a garden,” said Auguste, lost in his own work. “I hate that twisted bastard, and besides, I just delivered my niece. You owe me. I like your representation, though.”
“True. Fabian?”
“Get you to work, pretty French boy,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Gideon kissed Elisabeth’s head. “Joyeux anniversaire, mon Elisabeth Renée. I’ll be back around nine.” He kissed Annette. “We’re working with her with both languages, right? You promised.”
“Oui, monsieur,” said Annette, kissing him back. “I love you.”
“Not fair,” Fabian protested, helping himself to Annette’s cup. “Leaving her godfather in the dark.”
Two weeks later, Gideon watched the old grandfather clock, wishing this meeting would just end due to dead subjects. Work had murdered him, especially Davies, so he sat back in the chair and scribbled notes on a piece of parchment and listened to Edgar debate with old Benjy about nothing. He’d invited Annette along because he felt uncomfortable leaving her alone and Fabian had flat out refused to call off another date with Marlene to play babysitter.
“You want this bastard back?” Benjy nudged Gideon after Dumbledore adjourned the meeting and Edgar collected notes. When Peter looked at him, he shrugged it off. “What? They shit and sleep. What else are they good for? I’ve been through this.”
“You’ve got kids?” Peter asked.
Benjy actually crossed himself as he stuffed his pipe. “Do not wish such evils upon me.”
“Jacqueline talks about nothing else but her,” said Dumbledore, drying his hands and taking Elisabeth. “You ought to read my letters. Hello, my Elisabeth. She looks just like Marianne. Yes, she’s beautiful.”
Annette thanked him quietly. None of them had seen the professor with a tiny human before and the conversation died down a little as they all watched him walk around with her. Edgar, who worked as a freelance photographer had carted his equipment along after a busy night. He often worked with Benjy, a well-known writer for the Prophet, and they always sat together during these meetings. Earlier that night, they’d taken shots of the Order; Annette had shot the majority of the frames when she’d put Elisabeth in the pram or handed her off to someone else. One of the young ladies took the camera, giggling when Edgar tried to snatch it and took her drink instead, and started taking photographs of Professor Dumbledore; he paid her no attention.
“Are you going with us to Marseille in June?” Annette asked.
“René insists that we start another project,” said Dumbledore, “and Jacqueline signed my name. How’d I find that out? There’s an interesting piece in Transfiguration Today on international academia, and, apparently, I suggested it. We don’t know what we’re doing.”
A few people laughed. Gideon didn’t think that was legal, but he started to understand why Jacqueline always got her way. This was a disguised excuse for them to spent time together and for Professor Dumbledore to be bothered by fewer owls whilst he enjoyed holiday with his friends. Of course, this was wishful thinking because he’d undoubtedly be pulled into other matters. They would honestly set the groundwork for their research; when these three old friends got together, they couldn’t help but do what came natural to them.
“Nicolas wants to meet this child,” Dumbledore said, smiling.
“Really?” Annette seemed to be the only one who understood what Dumbledore talked about. A second later, she pulled a face and acted wary, second guessing the request. “Why?”
Dumbledore laughed softly. “Sometimes, you remind me of Jacqueline.”
“Is that a compliment?” Annette shared in his joke and finally looked away from Peter; she’d been staring at him ever since they’d arrived.
She took Elisabeth and escaped into the tiny bathroom. Chances were, especially with Elisabeth in tow, Gideon and she wouldn’t stay in France the whole holiday. Gideon simply couldn’t afford it, and he had to make a relocation decision soon. He’d casually mentioned that to Annette over their evening coffee one night last week. She shrugged it off, and he’d started pulling out cardboard boxes and packing up things they’d never used; trinkets lay around and collected dust. He hadn’t bothered seriously reading through any contracts, and Fabian hadn’t taken the news seriously enough to start moving out and shacking up with his girlfriend.
“France is still on the table,” said Dumbledore, striking up a conversation as he waved good night to Mad-Eye and Edgar. When Gideon answered him with a sceptical look and pulled a face, he pressed on, “Auguste’s mood changes faster than a woman’s, and you work well with him. He’s pleased now.”
“For Elisabeth.” Gideon hardly thought that counted.
“He’ll need you,” said Dumbledore, sounding as if he’d guessed more than Gideon was willing to confess, “and you’re family, so his anger will wan, and Auguste will forgive you. We all make mistakes.”
“Yeah, well,” whispered Gideon, shaking his head. Dumbledore had never messed up like this. “We’ll see, but personally, sir, I’m waiting for him to corner me and kick my arse. Sorry.”
Dumbledore didn’t bother denying it. “He’ll offer you a hand afterwards. Go to him.”
“Beg him? No.” Gideon reached for a half-empty tankard and finished the drink and nodded at Annette. “I did this, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get myself out of it. Auguste can come after me; I deserve it. Professor, please don’t tell Jacqueline. I-Il “ I’ll beg her for mercy when I’m ready. Not today.”
“What would I tell her?” He acted as though he hadn’t heard a word, and pulled it off with ease. Dumbledore clapped Gideon on the shoulder and handed him a travelling cloak. “Get some sleep. Get her home safely.”
“She is a beautiful girl,” said Peter.
“Oh, well,” said Gideon, who rather liked this quiet kid. “Would you like to hold her?”
“No, I “”
“No!” Annette drowned his petty answer as she laced up her blouse and held Elisabeth to her body. Colour washed from her features, and went pale, frightened. “Take me home, please.”
“She’s fine,” Gideon said mildly. Annette, instantly angry, hissed an insult in her native tongue, one so nasty, not even Gideon would repeat it. Annette wasn’t hearing any of it; when Peter opened his arms, she took Elisabeth, snatched her pocketbook of the back of a chair, toppling it over and headed towards the door, leaving Gideon staring after her. Benjy filled the silence with his barking laugh. “I can’t believe she just did that. She’s lost her mind” she’d didn’t mean it, mate, all things aside “ Madame!”
Gideon rushed out of the door and caught up with her. “Do you care to explain that? I know you’re off the wall with this kid and not in a right state, but I’m ready to offer you a bar of soap to wash that out. What’s with you? What’s that kid ever done to you?”
“I don’t Elisabeth around these people,” she said, crying when Gideon rolled his eyes. She’d woken the baby and glanced down at her damp shirt. Gideon walked a short distance with her and stopped at a weathered bench outside a park. Lily and Peter walked past when Annette started feeding, and Gideon shrugged off his cloak and draped it over his wife as he waved them away. “You don’t “ I don’t know any of them, except Albus, and we never know what can happen””
“”when I’m right there?” added Gideon, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t be the paranoid parent, please, because you’ll ruin her life, you really will, trapping her like this.”
“You were right there last time.” Annette wiped her tears away and leaned her head back.
Gideon said nothing to that and reached in his pocket for a cigarette; the parcel was empty.
“How long?” Annette spoke slowly, not wanting to hear the answer. “How long have you been with her? You love her.”
Gideon, thinking this was about him waving good-bye to Lily, bit his tongue and realised it was about another woman. “No. I’ve told you it was nothing. Nothing. I love only you and Elisabeth.”
“You’re lying.”
“If you want to see it that way””
“The way you look at her, you haven’t looked at me like that in ages,” she said, jealous, “and I can’t think of anyone but her. Wishing I was her “ but, no, I’m this dripping cow and feel awful. If it weren’t for Elisabeth, you wouldn’t glance at me. You come home, and you spend time with her and you go to bed.”
“That’s not””
“You want her?”
“N-no.” Gideon faltered, cursing himself. Annette hooked her blouse. “Please. I’m sorry. I don’t know happened. I love you. I want to love you “ I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry you got caught,” she said, getting up and wrapping the cloak around her and turning away from him when he tried to kiss her. “I’m your whet nurse. What happened?”