Continued from this thread.


Abby watched the crowd moving past the window, differentiating the locals from the tourists in the back of her mind. It was not always easy to tell with muggles, but the tourists tended to move in slow, tight-knit gaggles, snapping photos and carrying far too much in their bags. Their voices were loud, announcing their presence to an indifferent London. I've come, I've conquered, I've carried on!

She swirled her chai tea latte with a spoon, watching the warm, afternoon sunlight hit the pavement and glint off the stately gray buildings across the street. She kept an eye out for one tall blond boy, potentially in a sharp jacket. Potentially not - the weather was lovely.

One foot bounced underneath her chair. Her pale legs peeked out from under a light gray sweatshirt dress that hung on her thin frame. Abby hadn't thought it possible to feel smaller in the world, but every single lost inch mattered when most tables already stood too high for her to comfortably rest her elbows on. Abby hunched her shoulders, her hands hovering around the edges of the mug, protecting the steam from escaping. The ends of her dark red, wavy hair curled against her pink cape.

Sasha. He was coming here, just like that. Abby didn't trust the floos, didn't trust the owls, and didn't trust herself to make it to his place in one piece. When he'd said that he would never ignore her, she'd just managed to type out a location with shaking fingers. He was here, he was coming here!

As she waited, doubt crept in. Doubt over announcing her presence to the online world in general. Probably a dumb idea. Any of her seven-hundred or so online friends could see it. She'd only realized after she had updated her status that she couldn't tell them what she had been through or where she'd been. A story like that made headlines. Even without the magical details, they'd think she was lying, or deluded. They'd wonder why she didn't go to the police. They'd worry. She'd have to lie to make them think she was ok. She wasn't ok. Safe, but not ok.

Would Sasha understand? She hadn't understood a few of his comments, and she went over them now, in her head. He said he didn't want to cause trouble with her suitors - that was coded language so as not to alarm the muggles, surely. But he'd also asked where she'd been, if she was okay. Had he affected surprise for the benefit of the muggles as well? How much did he know about her situation from what he'd read in the Prophet, or heard about her?

Her fingers drummed against the table. She should have said, whatever you've heard, I'm still me. I'm still Abby. I'm still...

Sasha strolled through the door. She jolted. She half-stood, then stood more fully. Her heart raced.

Abby's fingertips grazed the table, a steadying and solid inanimate thing.

"Sasha," she said, not loudly enough.

"Sasha!" Abby called, raising her hand in a wave, glancing around at the sudden attention, and then letting her hand fall to her side. The girl who stood there was a shadow of Abby Reid. Pale, thin. Her light brown eyes were framed by sharper features and dark red hair.

Abby took in a shaky breath. The corner of her mouth twitched. She stared at Sasha as if he were made of unicorn tails and fairy dust, as if she'd once let those things slip through her fingers. All she had to give now were ashes to those who used to know and love her.

"Hi," she said softly, opening up her arms in the most tentative hug gesture ever.

For almost five minutes following the quick exchange through Facebook, Sasha had remained sitting in his desk chair, staring dumbly at his closed laptop with his brow wrinkled in a deep furrow. 

He'd only logged onto Facebook to quickly check for any updates on that evening's skirmish; Otto's mare had thrown a shoe the night before and their game was dependent on his ability to find a last minute replacement mount.  Seeing Abby's name listed under the timeline notifications had summoned a muddy mess of emotions to the surface: confusion, hurt, relief, excitement and uncertainty. 

When Abby had initially left, Sasha had fully believed and trusted that it had all been a formality.  He completely understood the need to play by the rules of parents; he'd done so on so many occasions before.  But, then there had been absolute silence.  Owls went unanswered and the months dragged on.  Finally, Sasha had accepted that Abby had moved on and he'd almost convinced himself that it didn't matter whether that had been the intent from the beginning.  There had been plenty to distract himself with, what with exams and more exams and Kohaku. 

But, there she was, again.  She was back.  And, he'd found out on Facebook.  After Becca and Ryan and Lina and SamIsWise.  Whoever SamIsWise was. 

In other words, she hadn't actually told him she was back.  Facebook's notification algorithm had.  He wasn't sure what to make of it, but it couldn't be good.  No matter what it was.  Despite the nagging foreboding and despite the uncomfortable hornet's nest of emotions, rejecting her invitation to meet hadn't really occurred to him.  Until he'd closed the laptop and started staring at its dull, silver surface. 

Unbidden, his mind pieced together the most logical conclusion it could come to: she had gotten engaged and she needed to tell him that he needed to leave her alone.  Whether through owls, Facebook or in person.  Regardless, Sasha had agreed to see her and, even if it was inevitably bad news (for him at least), he wanted to see her.  Sasha sent a quick, apologetic text to his teammates and changed out of his team uniform.  He gave Baldur a good petting before flooing to London proper and finding his way to the cafe. 

Sasha heard his name and scanned the busy cafe but it took a moment before he saw Abby.  And, finally, recognized her.  It felt a lot like looking at a fairly decent quality reproduction of an art piece: it very much resembled the original but something was off, even if he couldn't put his finger on exactly what that was.  He slowly weaved his way through the crowd, pausing briefly to apologize to an older gentleman that he bumped into.  He stopped when he finally reached her, gazing down at her with a mixture of uncertainty, doubt and concern scrawled across his face.  There was something there, in her features, that he couldn't quite understand. 

But, it was her.  And, despite the nagging doubt and the lingering foreboding, his expression softened and his lips pressed into a broad, flat grin.  Blinking rapidly, he offered a quiet "Allo," before wrapping his arms around her and drawing her into a tight hug. 

There he was! Sasha in a sharp jacket, bumping into people and apologizing already. When he reached her he looked at her with some concern, but then he smiled. Abby had missed his smiles. Allo! She'd missed his allos.

His arms came around her in a warm hug that made her feel as though she'd never left, that she hadn't changed at all, and that he still cared. Abby hugged him back just as tightly. Her cheek pressed against the lapel of his jacket, breathing in the wool, the very faint smell of horses, and the freshly pressed scent of his clothes. She wondered if he'd changed outfits before leaving his house. Her eyes filled with tears. Such a Sasha thing to do! He felt solid, and taller than ever.

She held on a few more moments, blinking back her emotion. She would not burst into tears! If he were treating her like she was normal, she would try to act normal, and use her words.

"It's really good to see you."

Abby's voice wobbled as she finally pulled away, glancing up at him with a bright smile.

She felt stares from a few of the muggles in the cafe, and glanced around quickly, relieved to find only mild interest and curiosity. Some smiled at the hug, most glanced away. She was glad that she and Sasha were in muggle London, where no one knew her. Crowds felt, at turns exhilarating, exhausting, a place to hide, a place where those with bad intentions could hide, too noisy, too quiet. Abby had always loved being around people, but it was more complicated now.

"Thanks for coming," she looked Sasha over, resisting the urge to hug him again. He seemed happy. Well. "It's only been forever! Did you want anything?" She glanced at the cafe counter where she'd bought her tea. "I'll wait if you do. I won't vanish."

She met his eyes, her smile turning bittersweet.

"Promise."

Sasha rested his cheek against the top of Abby's head and closed his eyes as he held her.  Still, nothing about this meeting made sense and a dull foreboding lingered in the back of his mind.  She felt light and delicate, ... no, frail in his arms.  Unsettlingly so.  Had it been the stress of traveling?  Surely she couldn't be trying to meet someone's peculiar expectations, could she?  If that was the case, he'd ... well, what could he do?  But, no.  That wasn't the Abby he'd known.  That couldn't be it.  But, what else was there?

But for a few moments, all of that seemed to matter less.  Months of convincing himself he didn't care that she'd moved on seemed to have vanished in an instant.  He smiled as she spoke against his chest and nodded his head, but didn't offer a verbal response.  He hoped he didn't need to say it.

But, that foreboding swam quickly back to the surface when Abby released him and stepped back.  He attempted to smile back at her, but it distorted itself in a worried and confused grimace.  He tried to find words, but could do little more then shake his head. 

"Thanks for coming.  It's only been forever!"

He gazed down at her and shook his head, again.  "I thought you'd forgotten.  Or- I - I don't understand.  What-"   

"Did you want anything?  I'll wait if you do. I won't vanish."

Sasha glanced back at the counter.  He really didn't want to get something but it would feel weird if he just sat there empty handed.  "Alright.  I'll be right back."  He returned a few moments later with a Cappucino and a couple of scones and took a seat. 

"I still can't believe you're here," he admitted as he cradled the mug between his hands.  The suspense was killing him.  He attempted to fool those nerves by grinning.  "How long ... how long are you here for?  On the way over, I half-expected you'd be telling me you were engaged or something.  But," the grin faltered and resumed it's previous confused and concerned look as he gazed across the table at her.  It was still obvious.  Something wasn't right.  "I mean ... what ...  why didn't ... Are you okay?"

Sasha fumbled over his words much like her family had, struggling with all the questions and emotions, though Abby had to admit the words themselves were odd.

She stared after him curiously as he left to get in line at the counter. No, she couldn't ever forget him.

Abby slid back into her seat, sipping at her lukewarm latte. Sasha returned in a flash with coffee and a few scones. Scones? She wondered if they were low fat, gluten free, Sasha-approved scones. The stray thought made her face soften with an almost-smile.

Engaged! Her brow furrowed. Which reporter had claimed that? Maybe Raine had thrown the offending article into the fire.

"I'm alive," she smiled, though it was just as forced as Sasha's.

"Not engaged, by the way. That's one thing..." she trailed off.

Abby lifted her palms up, and wiggled her fingers ever so slightly, in a gesture she had made many times before when she would say no magic. Then Abby glimpsed the length in her fingers, the new narrow width of her palms, and let her hands rest limply on the table. Her face went blank. Her shoulders slouched. Not engaged, and Calix would never get the chance.

Laughter sounded a few tables away and Abby straightened, gaze darting around, then resting on Sasha.

"I'll be here at the cafe for a little while," she recovered, teasing him gently. "Before I should check in with Raine or someone." Someone from the DMLE.

Abby hesitated, remembering the last question he'd sent her through Facebook, asking if she was safe.

"I wouldn't ask you to meet me if I thought it might put you in danger. I just," she bit her lip. "Had this moment of panic. I thought, if I don't see you now, I might not get to see you again. Which is silly! But after everything," she paused. "I'm glad you're here."

Here, in one piece, seemingly unaffected by the dementors and other attacks. Abby studied his face with a look of faint relief, memorizing the planes and angles, which were more familiar to her in that moment than her own. Subconsciously, she reached a hand up to touch her freckled jaw, fingertips grazing lightly against her skin.

For as much as that worry had occupied his mind since closing his laptop, the news that she was not engaged was met with alarmingly little relief.  Perhaps it was just overshadowed by the incomprehensible start to this whole conversation or maybe it was those two proceeding words: I'm alive.

"But, you're not okay."  It wasn't phrased as a question.  "I don't understand why, but -"  He shook his head.  "I mean - after you never replied to those letters, I ... went to your parents to make sure you were okay.  And, they said you were busy, but fine."  And, it was decidedly none of his business.  At least, that's how he'd interpreted the short and highly uncomfortable front-stoop conversation.  Whether the she's fine had been an honest answer or a curt attempt to get rid of him, he had never been sure of, but at the very least they hadn't seemed alarmed.  Or worried.  It was that, more then their answer, that had alleviated his concern.  "And, then suddenly you're there on Facebook." 

But, if Abby was okay, according to the standards of the girl Sasha had known over a year ago, she would be her usual, exuberant, bubbly self.  She would have found some whimsical and endearing way to contact him or run into him somewhere or ... something.  Something involving bouncing bells or singing punctuation marks[1].  So far, that bright, vivid I'm Alive facebook post filled with a wide assortment of gifs had been the most Abby-ish part of this whole affair and that, in itself, was alarmingly out of context. 

Sasha regarded Abby across the table; the initial shock of confusion was starting to settle and he could feel the tension easing from his shoulders.  Enough to allow him to critical analyze the situation.  He watched her as she wiggled her fingers in a more typical-Abby manner which seemed to fold in on itself as she looked at her thin hands.  He saw her jump, scan their surroundings and revert back to more normal-Abby mannerisms. 

Something had happened; something that was still following her.  And, her next words confirmed it.  A realization that put everything into some perspective, even if it still made little sense. 

"I wouldn't ask you to meet me if I thought it might put you in danger. I just ... had this moment of panic. I thought, if I don't see you now, I might not get to see you again. Which is silly! But after everything ... I'm glad you're here."

He assumed she was purposefully avoiding any specifics, a motivation he could fully understand.  He hesitated a moment before reaching a hand across the table and resting it gently on top of hers.  "I don't know what has happened," he admitted, shaking his head.  But, then he offered a warm smile, "but if you need to talk about that or something else or ... whatever you need, that's okay.  I'm not going anywhere, either." 

1.	Reference to this thread when numbers from a padlock sent Sasha on a scavenger hunt

As Sasha continued to say that he didn't understand, Abby realized that something about his reaction was off. His confusion wasn't the startled, shocked, disbelieving confusion she'd received from her family, who fluctuated from denial to anger to tears and back again in seconds. It felt like honest, concerned confusion. She followed his line of reasoning with a puzzled look. He'd gone to her parents. Stalwart Sasha! When had he gone to her parents? In the past few days? If that were the case, even they would not have claimed she was busy. Unreachable, perhaps, but not busy.

He'd sent multiple letters. If he'd sent them recently, she hadn't received them. Damn owls.

Her fingers shifted, curling in ever so slightly as Sasha placed a hand upon hers. The simple gesture of support brought tears to her eyes. Abby went still, blinking them back.

Slowly, she turned her hand over, palm up, and gently grasped his fingers. "Thanks."

For the words of support. For the grit and gumption he'd shown, checking in with her family!

"You sent me letters?" She smiled a little sadly, with a wondering shake of her head. "I apologize for my parents. Whatever else they said."

They were dealing with a tremendous amount of guilt.

"Sasha," she met his eyes. "I don't mind talking about it. I'll try to, anyway. I'm sure those DP articles were alarming enough."

He must have so many questions. Abby tilted her head, unable to forget the way he'd mentioned Facebook. "How much have you heard?"

Sasha smiled and nodded.  "Of course I sent letters.  Must have been at least a dozen of them.  At least until I talked to your parents." 

The smile faltered, slightly, as color rose in his cheeks and his gaze dropped to the table as he shook his head.  "I shouldn't have stopped sending them," he voiced, grimacing slightly.  "But, then the school year started and December happened and everything -"  His voice trailed off and he shook his head, again. 

He looked up, again, and met Abby's eyes with renewed confusion.  He shook his head slowly, a heavy knot of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.  "DP articles?" he repeated.  Alarming DP articles?  He knew that meant that whatever had happened was big enough...important enough...bad enough to catch the Prophet's attention.  "I've been out of the country a lot, lately," he admitted.  "I haven't looked at ... paper in over a week."

Again, he shook his head.  "Other then when I went to see your parents in October, I haven't heard anything since you left.  I didn't know you were back until I saw your post on Facebook."

"Oh," Abby's eyes widened.

Oh, Merlin's balls. Oh shit. Oh wow.

She put a hand to her mouth and thought. Sasha knew nothing, beyond her cryptic Facebook announcement. No wonder he'd been so confused.

She wondered what had happened in December, and hoped she'd get the chance to ask him, if he were able to listen to all of this. She glanced around. Why had she picked the cafe? Abby scooted her chair in, and took a deep breath.

Would he still care, after he knew the truth?

Abby gave him a vulnerable look, completely at odds with the matter-of-fact chatter she launched into.

"Ok then. Glad you have provisions," she gestured at the scones. "I'll tell you the short version first, and if I don't scare you off, well-" She gave him a shaky smile. "I'll try to explain as best I can."

She'd explained to the Aurors dozens of times, to her family as much as she and they could bear, but this felt different. Sasha, he was better off in ignorance. Without her. 

Abby pushed the self-pitying thought aside and took a long sip of her latte.

"A family I visited last summer was," she shook her head. "Not what they seemed. They were involved in all sorts of," she paused. "illegal, non-typical things." She used his word for muggle.

Abby swallowed, her voice growing quieter. "They wouldn't let me leave, or talk to anyone. They wouldn't let their son leave, either. He's a," she tried to think of how to explain. "Typical, like me."

She was using present tense, she knew that in the back of her mind, but it was all she could handle at the moment.

"They changed my letters to my parents to make it seem like I was fine. That I wanted space," bitterness crept into her tone. "They were planning to use us - Calix and I - in some sort of dark ritual," she lowered her voice and glanced around, though everyone seemed to be occupied.

"They didn't care if we died," she said, very quietly.

Except Calix had died, already. It had already happened. She'd died, and come back. Through this teenage girl. This useless squib.

A hand curled around the handle of the mug, wishing for a wand.

Abby stared at her tea, her hand, the sun streaming in through the window against her pale skin, and let out a shiver.

That pit of dread lurched and churned as Abby stared at him, dumbfounded.  He had no idea what to expect but it was clear by now it wouldn't be pretty.  Sasha wrapped his free hand around the warm coffee mug and lifted it as he listened.  He remained quiet as she spoke and, while the gnawing in his stomach kept him from actually drinking, the warmth radiating from the ceramic was a welcomed source of comfort. 

When she finally finished, Sasha sat silently for several long minutes as he tried to wrap his mind around what she'd described.  Despite having previous experience with a somewhat analogous situation, he couldn't imagine how terrifying and alone it must have felt.  After all, he'd had the benefit - if one could call it that - of a captor who believed, in his own twisted and terrifying way, he was motivated by Sasha best interests.   (Though many would dismiss it as his own naivete) Sasha was never actually at risk of being harmed or mistreated. 

Finally, Sasha set the mug back on the table and rubbed his face with his hand.  The gesture did little to make any of the information more palatable.  His voice shook, slightly, when he finally spoke.  "They've held you captive.  This entire time."  He made an attempt to summarize, which did little to help. 

"But, they didn't ... they didn't actually -"  He knew enough about dark magic, both from personal experience and his months of dubious self-education in the fine art of necromancy to know what horrors that could have involved.  "Did they hurt you?"  He looked intently across the table at Abby, watching for any indication that her body language didn't match her verbal answer.  "Are they ... where are they now?  Does the Ministry have them?" 

There was still a whole myriad of lingering questions but, for the moment, those were the most important ones. 

Abby lifted the mug to her lips and drank the last of the tea with a hand that shook slightly. She set down the mug. She let go of the handle, flexed her fingers once, and watched Sasha across from her struggling with what she'd just told him. He was handling it well, so far. Better than her parents. Though she supposed the situation hurt in a different way when it was your own child who had been taken from you, your own child you hadn't been able to protect.

She nodded, relief flickering across her face as he tried to summarize it. It meant he was listening, that he believed her. He was still here, sifting through the pain.

When he asked if they'd hurt her, Abby sucked in a breath. She shook her head very slightly. They hadn't had the chance perform the ritual on the day she'd escaped. She assumed that's what he was asking. She didn't know how to describe what it felt like to be trapped somewhere for so long, technically free to move around the house and explore the woods while knowing her days were numbered.
 
"They're at large, Lori and Lee," she said in a small voice. "The DMLE is looking for them."

She shot a glance out the window, then back at Sasha.

"I only got out on Wednesday, in a blaze of drama. A literal blaze." Her mouth thinned in a rueful line.

Abby looked down at the table.

"Calix and I, we... we were only trying to make things difficult for them. We - I didn't expect to escape," she glanced at him and looked down again.

"We unleashed something," she swallowed. "Awful."

Her shoulders tensed. "I don't understand what it is, exactly, but," her voice dropped to a whisper. "Dementors came after it. It scattered all over England, attacking people. It's why I look like this," she gestured at her face and hair in a jerky movement.

She shook her head and pressed her fist against her mouth, afraid of what she might think or want to say.

Knowing they hadn't actually harmed her - physically, at least - was a relief, albeit a very small one.  Sasha nodded, slightly, and set his own drink down and slid it across the table to her.  So far, it had only served to warm his hand and he suspected she'd benefit from it more. 

He mirrored Abby's glance out the window, but his lingered on the street outside for several long breaths.  His eyes followed the path of the passing pedestrians as they made their way along there day.  So, these two were still out there somewhere.  Briefly, he found himself wondering if those in the know in the criminal realm were familiar with them.  But, that ... no.  That wasn't something he should be thinking about. 

He turned his attention back to Abby when she spoke again.  "So, you both escaped?  But ... these were people your parents sent you to, right?  So, they know each other?  Does that mean they know where you are?  I mean -"  She kept insisting she was safe and he had to believe she wasn't just saying that for his benefit. 

"You unleashed ... how did you unleash something.  I mean ... without..."  Given their current setting, he couldn't say magic out loud.   "It usually takes ... a catalyst to ... unleash things."  Like Abby, he was starting to regret the location choice.  This conversation was difficult enough without finding ways to censor what they were saying.  "Is this ... thing ... still connected to you in some way?"   

Abby blinked at him in surprise as he slid his own. cup. of. coffee over to her. Thoughtful. So thoughtful, as always.

She took a small sip, and then slid the cup to the middle of the table where they could both reach it.

"My parents knew of them." She gave him a worried look, unsure how long he'd still want to know the answers to his questions. "The one who actually suggested I visit the Lilly's was..." Abby hesitated, then continued dully. "Ira Almasy. So. There's that. They were apparently buddy-buddy."

A small smile twisted her mouth.

"And in a hilarious twist of fate, I'm staying with Raine. For now, anyway. She's been a lifesaver. My parents are not dealing well with my trauma-drama." Her voice held air quotes.

"Or with the... catalyst... that caused all this," she gestured to her face again. "I wish I could explain it better, Sasha. It's still there, affecting me, whatever it is. If I understood how it happened," she trailed off. "There are moments I just can't remember. From that day."

Which was not something she liked to admit. She hadn't even touched on the fact that the something affecting her had a voice and a mind of its own. It was not cafe table conversation. None of this was.

There was something else he'd asked. Had they both escaped. Both of them. Her and... her? Or her and...

Abby put her elbows on the table, resting her fingertips against her forehead, partially obscuring her face from view.

He wasn't surprised to hear that Ira Almasy had had a hand in this; from everything that had surface, lately, it seemed like the type of thing she'd do.  It seemed she was still inflicting trouble, even after her explosive end. 

Sasha nodded his head, glad to here she was staying with someone and, more so, someone who could be trusted to handle anything that might surface.  "That's good," he added.  "She is ... good with this kind of thing.  And, obviously, if I can ever do anything - you just need to ask." 

He still wasn't quite sure he understood what this unleashed entity was or what it had to do with Abby's head.  Or face.  Or - coupled with all of the code speak, it felt like the gestures were only making things more confusing.  But, she was folding in on herself, again.  Sasha could see that, even before she hid behind her hands.  His chair scraped quietly against the floor as he stood and moved the chair around the table, closer to her so that she was between him and the window when he sat down again.  He rested his elbows on the table top and leaned forward to rest on them, slightly, allowing his larger body frame to obscure her from the rest of the cafe.   

There were still so many unanswered questions but now wasn't the time and the most important ones had been answered.  "There's no need to talk about it all, now.  There will be other times and I'll listen anytime you want or need to talk."  And, likely, times with more appropriate settings.  "I'm not going anywhere, unless you want me to." 

Sasha grew quiet for a few moments, forcing his own mind to fish for some sort of segue it was comfortable following let alone trying to insert into the conversation. 

"So, does this mean you don't know they've made a television show of Song of Ice and Fire?"

Abby, with her head in her hands, heard the sound of the chair and was pulled out of her dark thoughts and led to a darker thought.

He was leaving.

The chair was set down next to her. She glanced to the side.

Sasha had his elbows on the table, a mannerism she rarely saw from him, and he seemed to be trying to fill the space between her and the rest of the crowded cafe. He hadn't left. He'd moved to sit closer to her. He offered her the chance to tell him more, later.

Abby shifted her knees towards him and rested one arm over the back of her chair. It was just her and Sasha. The muggles at the other tables, the pane of glass behind her, and the table that had separated them moments ago faded to the back of her mind.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," she murmured, eyes a little too bright. "Besides, you haven't even touched your scones."

A song of ice and fire? Abby blinked, making the transition from fire and strange mists and death and scones to...

Dragon fire, snow, a lord of death, and Tyrion's drinking problem.

"What? Really?"

Abby straightened a bit. Many questions popped into her mind, but she started with the most important.

"Does it follow the books, properly?"