evening


Dense, dark red, and no bigger than his fist, it was almost hard to imagine the kind of chaos it would wreak.

Almost.

The face that stared down at it was drawn, pinched with fatigue and pale from lack of sleep—though a heavy conscience was just as likely. Rick scrubbed his cheek, the movement slowed by a tiredness that went deeper than bone. He didn’t even bother wishing he didn’t have to do this, because he did; no one turned a request of Ira Almasy’s twice in a row.

He hadn’t been so unlucky that he lost track of time, since signing her contract. That passage was marked by only the weight of her presence and the effects thereof. There were days, weeks, even months where he would never see or hear from her, and since he began teaching at Hogwarts—since meeting Leon—he had even begun to think of the future beyond Ira’s employment. For someone on a leash like his – a metaphor that hit closer to home than others – Rick had it so much better than most, and he knew it.

He was a fucking idiot, getting complacent. He saw that now. But after going so long without, the absence had made something horribly, irrefutably clear: he wasn’t going to get any more used to working for Ira than he did the first time. He hadn’t just gone soft; he had become completely unsuitable.

And now he had even more to lose than before. But this… He couldn’t do it anymore. With a certainty that was nearly too terrifying to identify, much less articulate, Rick knew, knew, that this would be the last time.


Taking a breath, he tightened his hold on the orb… and pitched it as hard as he could into the water.