It was the last night of the detail.  The absolute last night Archer had to wake up every two hours on the hour to do a patrol and make sure there was no one stalking Ray or waiting in the dark corners to kill her.  Luckily, during this two month period, at least, there was no one to do that.  It seemed that they were poised and waiting for whatever they were going to do next, but logistically, no matter how much he would have appreciated being considered officially allowed to sleep here every night without ever having to go home, but it was ending and there was going to have to be talk of what was going to come of that one, though he didn’t really know. 

He didn’t want to waste the last night of their official assignment discussing plans for whatever was going to happen and how they were going to work schedules and things.  He assumed it would be pretty much the same, only without having to patrol the hallways.  That didn’t sound all that bad to him, actually, and would probably request that if at all possible.  It was really the ideal situation. 

Squeak did most of the cooking; it was quiet and discreet, and much closer to work than his flat.  There was also the fact that he didn’t have to deal with unexpected visits and things from his family – or howlers like the one he received from his mother at the office for his rude behavior, and hearing Hunter screaming hi in the background – idiot.  But, for now, as he dropped his auror robes onto the chair next to the door and started to take off his boots, he could already smell the Squeak prepared meal waiting for them.

It smelled healthy, which, after a month was way too much healthy for him, but it was just one more night.  He promised himself the next meal he had was going to be something with a copious amount of cheese and probably meat on it.  That would make him the happiest person in the world – well, at least when it came to food. 

Glancing at Ray, who seemed unusually quiet – she was usually quiet, but unusually in the way that wasn’t creating tension.  It was almost palpable, actually, and Archer wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask what was wrong or not.  Maybe something had happened with one of the cases.  They were confidential, so he couldn’t ask specifics, but standing up straight, he decided to bite the wand and ask - as soon as he was half-way in the ice box grabbing a beer, as that was necessary after a very, very long day in the office. 

“Something happen at work today?” he asked, curiously as he closed the door of the ice box behind him, the cap popping off the beer with a hiss and slow fizz.  He took a sip before he continued, “You seem… out of sorts."

Rain roared down on London in a relentless, solid sheet drowning sidewalks and gurgling down gutters and it got swept into the run-offs along the streets. Any lingering rays of evening sun clinging to the horizon were shrouded by ominous, charcoal clouds that continued to spill their bounty on the city below. A threatening low growl stretched through the sky above and umbrella-wielding pedestrians picked up their pace; disappearing around corners and skillfully avoiding steaming manholes as they crossed streets. With the doom of December upon them, not only was it cold but it was cold and wet. No one preferred those conditions, especially not Tamis Raynor.

Six stories above the dreary city, said woman sat nestled on her couch, listening as the rain hammered haplessly against the roof of the fifth floor flat. The windows were ajar, letting some of the cold, winter threatening air into the living room; Squeak the House Elf’s attempts to accommodate the pair of residents to room five hundred seventeen in the otherwise warm apartment. Like all other muggle devices Tamis disapproved of the box and its knobs that the complex insisted was an adequate source of heat. The fireplace was roaring instead and most of the heat wards placed on the candles had been removed to create a cozily warm environment – which a sharp, bone chilling breeze occasionally destroyed. Archer had a cold tolerance that would make the Abominable Snowman envious.

Speaking of the man, she looked up as he came back in from another shift and then looked away again, not even managing to make a usual teasing comment about how well-trained Squeak had him that he was removing his boots at the door reflexively.

Since returning from their illegal escapade at Hogwarts to improve a certain Hufflepuff student’s skill set, the petite woman had distanced herself in contemplation. The rain had started just as they returned from work and some of it still dampened her shoulders. She had not wanted to shower until Archer returned. He would have had a fit – not being able to hear with the water running and the ‘vulnerability’ factor.

It was the last night of her protective detail. The Minister’s would continue until the threat had been discovered, but it was absolutely preposterous for an active Auror to be protected by another Auror. There had not been any attempts on her life and enough was enough. She was grateful for that. But… they both knew that the arrangement between them was about to change. They knew it but Archer had yet to say anything about it. No offers to start trading spaces. Not even a hint that he was considering the questions that would arise in less than twenty four hours.

They had been involved officially for two months now. And she was still realizing how little she knew the man beyond what she had known before their relationship had taken a romantic twist. What they had going for them was nice, but would it ever amount to more? The closest she had come to further divulgation had been when Hunter had discovered them on their dinner date. There had not been sight or mention of Archer’s brother since then. She could not help remember his words enlightening that she need not deal with another encounter for a while. That had been almost a month ago to the day and the words still bothered her. He was segregating her. But why?

There was a pop and fizz as a beer was broken into (another accommodation effort) and she looked up as Archer slanted a question her way. She shook her head. Well, yes, something always happened at work.

She readjusted the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, “I was just thinking.” It was a truthful response.

It was such a woman response.
 

“I was just thinking.”

It was the response no man wanted to hear.  It literally inspired his stomach to drop to the deepest recesses of his torso and his mouth to go dry.  She had looked so contented, wrapped up in the blanket on the couch, near the fireplace so she could soak up as much heat as possible.  The woman had no tolerance for chill, whereas Archer could probably walk outside during the worst blizzard in fifty years and still feel relatively alright.  It was such a pity she was going to ruin such a lovely scene by thinking. 

Rather than tell her that, he lifted the beer to his lips to buy himself some time.  How was he going to attack this?  Was he supposed to ask what she was thinking about?  Was she being purposefully vague to inspire him to ask or was it that she was trying to discourage him?  For someone who pretended to not be a stereotypical woman at all, Archer found that Tamis had more of the tendencies than even she thought she did.  Her cryptic little messages were partially attributed to that, also to the fact she rarely said more than she had to say, or felt like saying.

It left a man like Archer Radley, who was much better at reading clues and professional things than dealing with his own personal relationships; he didn’t really know what to do.  He had used both situations in past relationships, neither worked very well.  With Tamis, he was not sure what would work better – not soliciting the information would surely keep things at least comfortable, but he did not want to ruin anything either.  If things were going South, he at least wanted to make sure he knew why. 

Two months had been going fairly well, but not exactly perfectly, but that didn’t mean she had go and start “thinking” about things.  So, when he finally lowered the beer – taking a lot longer on it than he normally would have, Archer decided it would be best to actually ask now.  “Thinking about what?”  Of course, as soon as he said it, he felt like he had to reach into the ice box for another beer. 

There was like a sense of imminent doom in the back of his head and he just… felt like something horrible was going on in her overly analytical head.  He decided to avoid looking like a complete arse and forewent the second beer, but he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the open entryway that went between the two rooms, awaiting what she wanted to say, or didn’t want to say, but he was poking and prodding out of her. 

Watching the way his expression altered, Tamis knew almost immediately that she had chosen the wrong words. She should have fabricated a story or simply agreed that the afternoon at the Office had been rather troublesome. Then he would have settled on the couch next to her, she could have turned on the wireless, and they could have enjoyed a comforting silence while the storm passed. Instead the silence lingered heavily between them with baited breath as he swung back his beer bottle; trying to save face.

While she had never been afraid of confrontation, and on many occasions provoked it, did not mean she enjoyed being a participant. But over the course of the month, she could not help but feel that he was still holding her at arm’s length. He had once called her a coward and he had been right. Tamis Raynor had never been particularly brave when it came to matters of the heart but she was trying now.

The terms of the protective detail meant that they were obligated to remain at her residence. It was not that she disliked that Archer had volunteered to be assigned to the unwilling woman; she was incredibly grateful and doubted she would have let another into her home. But now with the detail ending, there was no mention of altering those arrangements. She did not even know where his place was located. He was trying very hard to keep her away from his family. It left her wondering what exactly she was to him. And what she was not.

Tamis Raynor did not have any true family to speak of. She really did not have friends and those she had he was already acquainted with. Akiva Katz – though she did not seem to like to stick around Archer for long. She was not sure what she considered Jonas Trevelyan but the man had been Archer’s partner. Jason MacDonnell, her mentor and a man that held a special place in her heart – well, seeing as he once Headed their Office, Archer better know him. This flat, her lifestyle inside of it, was the only component he had not had access to.

Finally, he asked the inevitable question and not even Tamis knew that if she had wanted him to or not. But now that he had asked it, she could not forsake an answer. Nor could she lie to him.

“About tomorrow,” was the honest response. And then a pause. “And about living arrangements.” She was trying to pick her words as carefully as possible. She absently rubbed a corner of the blanket between her thumb and index finger and she formulated a proper explanation. “Your assignment would be concluded. We could switch off residences.”

To be truthful, Archer had been thinking about what he wanted to do with the situation now that his assignment was concluding, but he did not know how he was going to deal with that in reality.  It seemed like something he didn’t want to tackle until it was actually an issue – and he was reluctant to consider it one at this point.  It really was, but Archer liked to hold off the difficult stuff to the last minute.  And when she spoke – mentioning plans and things that were in the future, Archer did not know how to feel.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Ray in his life, really.  It was just he didn’t really know how to keep everyone happy.  Clearly, he was happy, and he thought Ray was at least starting to be happy.  But, when they came into contact with the people that popped in and out of his life – one Hunter Radley, that had been a complete disaster, Archer had hated it – and was not eager to do that again.  And then he had no idea when Joel would be around, if at all, and he was currently, well – he had been, staying with him.  The idea of sharing space with him was already unappealing, but to put Ray through that too? 

Rubbing the back of his neck, he smacked his lips and pushed himself off the doorframe, taking another long draw of beer.  Surprising how fast a beer could start to disappear in a stressful situation.  “We could,” he did not sound as enthusiastic about it as he should have, but he walked toward her, hoping to soften what he was saying by physical closeness and a sense of comfort, not that he didn’t want to switch off – but, well, he didn’t!  There was no reason to ruin whatever they had by introducing those elements into it. 

He sat down on the arm chair near the couch where she was curled up – definitely not going to risk that, and he stretched out his legs, letting a deep rumble from the outdoors penetrate the disturbing silence.  “But…” he continued, an almost sheepish smile on his face, “wouldn’t it be better to just… do what we’ve been doing?  It works, right?”  He was all for ease and comfort in his time off and they were comfortable with this arrangement, why disturb it?  Why mess with what worked?  Like his dad always cautioned his boys, if it wasn’t broke, you didn’t have to fix it. 

“I mean, it’ll be even better.”  He tried to add, “Not having to be up every few hours and whatnot…” He could almost hear the shovel diving into the dirt as he finished speaking.  The rain outside was ominous and he tried to smile to cover it up, but already it felt like trying to put a band-aid on a wound that required a tourniquet.

Another chill ran up Tamis Raynor’s spine but this time it had nothing to do with the cold. She maintained her composure as Archer approached her but his face said everything. Everything that she hoped it would not. Her muscles tensed as he came further into the living room, not sure if she could deal with him in such close quarters at the moment – thankfully he sat in the armchair besides the couch, rather than on it, and she eased her physical tension. The emotional, however, began to spike.

The smile on his face was so false and forced an unlike the ones that she had become accustomed to that she actually adverted her gaze from his. She stared out the window instead; watching droplets of water hit the glass and wash down it in a steady and continuous pattern. There was a growing pain in her chest and it worsened with every word that slid from his tongue. The gentle delivery of them was not helping; in fact it was only making it worse. She was overreacting, she knew. Such a foolish, foolish woman, investing more in a relationship than she should have. She should have known better.

However much of a fool she been made, she was not an idiot. She could recognize rejection when she saw – and heard – it. He was fine with how conditions were. Spending the nights here, reaping the benefits, without actually having to dedicate or commit anything to it – to her. Tamis Raynor did not trust very many people, she had lost her faith in people a long time ago. Archer Radley had dared her to trust again. She did not think there would be another after Tait Aldridge. For many years, she had ignored her attraction to Archer, believing that it could only end in misery. Perhaps, she had been right. That thought hurt more than anything else.

The gray of her eyes stilled as she began to emotionally distance herself from the situation. Old defense mechanisms were snapping back into place and she retreated back behind them with the ease of familiarity. The pain in her chest was becoming so intense, that if she had not, it might have overwhelmed her.

“I understand,” she replied evenly. Calmly. Maturely.  Unemotionally. And she did. But that did not make it any easier to absorb.

Lifting the blanket from her shoulders, she moved into the kitchen, where Squeak’s dinner was still simmering peacefully on the stove. She just… had to get away from him for a minute and get a hold of herself. Rummaging through the cabinets, she produced a teapot and began filling it with water.

His suggestion that what they had was working was clearly wrong.  She looked away, started to stare into the distance and he didn’t even know if she heard how he had finished.  It was her trademark.  As much as he was not the best with personal relationships, this was beyond just the personal.  When she got invested and something went wrong, the woman shut down.  He saw it time and again, though she would never admit such heavy attachments to some of her cases, it was the same thing she always did.  He had clearly misinterpreted and then dug himself a hole now.

Rubbing his face, he momentarily tried to put himself in the right state of mind to figure it out.  “No you don’t,” he said pointedly, watching her as she got up and started rummaging.  Now she was deflecting and distracting herself.  She was going to make that stupid tea and go into la-la land.  As much as Archer hated doing this, he also hated leaving something that was bothering her up in the air and not dealing with it.  He wasn’t the type to run away from a personal problem when it came up which usually led to confrontations (in every relationship he had), and he was not going to let that change now. 

Pushing himself out of the chair, Archer returned to the doorway he had previously inhabited.  Notably, the beer was left on the coffee table and his hands were free to run through his hair.  “What do you want, Ray?”

---

The rumble of the storm was less apparent in the kitchen and the running water filling the teapot drowned the incessant rain hit the building's roof.  The mundane task offered her some peace and a chance to stem her emotions before they overcame her. Opening a cabinet drawer, she pulled out a handful of leaves from the diverse selection within. Earl Grey. She just needed to do something physical. There was no other escape. He still technically was on duty until the morning.

She tried to ignore him as he filled the entryway leading into the kitchen. Her peripheral vision betrayed her. He stood there, watching her, a hand traveling through his thick hair. It was a nervous tick of his, whenever he was feeling particularly frustrated. Usually when he was about to undertake a task he was not thrilled to contend with.  She did her best not to interpret that too much.

What did she want? She turned off the water and then stood there, both hands on the rim of the sink, staring at the pot she had just prepared. Finally, she looked back up at him. There was an alarming amount of uncertainty there.

"What are we, Archer?" She asked. "What are we doing?"

---

Her question certainly threw him off guard.  What are we? There were a lot of answers to that question, but which was she looking for?  Which did he want to say?  They were Aurors, which was his first thought, but not right now – well, he was right now, but she was off-duty.  They were friends, definitely.  They were, in the terms of old fashioned say-so, lovers.  It felt weird to think of it that way, it actually put him off, thinking that they had to classify themselves.  He felt like there were so many things they were that it didn’t make sense to try that.  He could not help but frown a tad and shifted his weight. 

What they were doing was another question entirely, and Archer frowned.  He had no idea.  They were just trying, really hard to maintain some semblance of normality in a severely uncertain existence.  He had a suspicion she knew that though, and her question was not in the way of figuring out that balance.  It was more personal than that.  “I don’t know,” he answered simply, on first instinct.  But that was not enough, he walked into the kitchen and felt as though he was going to pace.

He started that back and forth movement, obviously he was thinking.  “I thought we were doing what worked best for us, Ray.  I mean, you know how our lives work.  Easy is best, isn’t it?” he stood there, for the first time, totally confused about everything.  His expression echoed the sentiment, slightly slack jaw and gently furrowed brows, just wondering what it was she really wanted – as she had never answered his initial question. 

---

"You do not know," she repeated.

Lifting the teapot, she carried it over to the free burner on the firewood operated stove. Setting it down gently she kept her back to him for a moment listening as he began to pace.

She had not been asking for a grand philosophical answer. It would take a year and a day to try and describe what they were. A 'couple' would have sufficed as an answer. But were they, really? Couples shared with each other, leaned on each other, and let each other, truly, into their lives. It was a partnership. What they had now was little more than what Claudia had accused them of several years ago.

"What I want, Archer," she started off slowly, clarifying, "is to know what I am to you."  She would have caressed the pot if she could, just to continue to occupy her hands. But it was heating now. So she turned to face him, most of that composure she had been clinging to was gone. This was obviously something that had been bothering her for some time. "Is this it?" she asked. "Someone for you to spend the night with?"

She was too old for that game. If that was all this was - she was not sure if she could take it. "This was never easy for me. To let someone in. To risk that again." But she had done it. Done it because he was Archer Radley and that had made it okay. "So tell me, Archer, who is this easier for?"

---

Archer felt as though she had hit him.  If she were able to reach, perhaps that would have been much preferable to her accusing him of just using her for some fling.  If he wanted that, he would find someone else – he’d go back to some girl who didn’t expect anything, who didn’t expect him to care beyond the next morning or not have her back in every circumstance imaginable.  She was more than a fling and his jaw contracted and eyes narrowed at the suggestion that she was nothing more than a bedmate. 

And then she threw the ‘easier’ thing in his face.  It was like she was accusing him of taking advantage of the situation.  Taking advantage of her and her feelings, and as much of a dog as Archer might have been in the past, he had never – and would never, use someone else’s insecurities to get them into bed with him.  He wouldn’t try this hard to get someone comfortable with the idea of being with him if he didn’t mean it.  “You think it’s easy for me to put the relationship with my best friend in a completely new place, Ray? Really?” 

“I’ve put up with your bull for almost twenty years, Ray.  Between the barely anything responses to the complete avoidance of any emotional connection whatsoever.  If I wanted someone to just screw around with, I wouldn’t be trying so hard! I don’t need to,” he could not help but grind his teeth, gripping at a handful of his thick, dark hair – the other hand resting on his side, trying to figure out what to do with it that wasn’t going to be punching something.  He glared at her, hoping she understood just what he was saying.  He wasn’t dead yet, certainly, and wasn’t a bad looking guy.  He stayed with her because he WANTED her, not because he needed her.  And now he couldn’t – wouldn’t – leave. 

She was pushing him though, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.  “I don’t want to hear a sob story about how much harder it is for you to open your life Ray, because getting into it was hard enough!” 

---

Taken from IM

The grandfather clock in the other room chimed the quarter hour. The single solitary peal lost as the sky rumbled again, shaking the window panes. It faded slowly, the clouds crackling until the sound was not even discernable. Staring at Archer, only the ‘tick tock’ of the clock’s normal cadence stood between them, counting the seconds as they passed.

Tamis eventually found her voice. “This is not about me opening my life!” She snapped back at him. “It is about you opening yours.”

There was a lot hurt lingering in her face. She would have turned around but there was nowhere to escape. He was blocking the one way out of the kitchen and glaring at her the way he was, she was not about to risk passing him. Even then, where would she go? A part of her subconsciously relieved that he met her accusation so fiercely. He did not have to remind her that she was a difficult person to deal with regularly, but he was certainly not a saint himself. And, Merlin, she did not want to lose him. The thought scared her so entirely that almost caused her to hyperventilate.

“If that is not the reason, then why is it that you so desperately segment me from the rest of your life?” She asked sounding defeated. “There has to be a reason, Archer.” There had to be something that she simply was not, or something that she was not doing.

“You give me these grand notions of commitment, but you will not even let me see your apartment?”

The thunder was an all too familiar sign.  If he believed in the all encompassing idea of divination and signs and all of that nonsense, he might have thought the weather was some indication that the storm was just starting.  The low rumbles had gotten only slightly louder, but were growing in intensity.  The grandfather clock was not helping.  And as he was about to continue on his rant, he stopped in his tracks.  His life? 

He stopped pacing, he stopped everything and looked at her with a blank expression.  He didn’t know what to say to that – and his slack jaw and lack of blinking really said all that needed to be said on his end.  He didn’t think he had a problem at all with opening his life, he had never even considered that was something they needed to work on.  She was the one with walls and barriers – not him.  Wasn’t that the way it was?  His shoulders dropped and he shook his head. 

“It’s not that I’m not letting you,” he quickly defended, feeling as though perhaps she was misrepresenting what he was doing.  She felt like that was the way it was, and Archer didn’t want to deal with being treated like it was him who was cloistering her out of his life and feelings.  “My flat – it’s not like-  it’s nothing!  It’s not important!”  He didn’t know how to explain it was not a place he would want anyone but some guys to hang around.  It wasn’t like her flat – comfortable, private.  His flat was a place people came through; people bothered him when he was home! 

He didn’t want his time with her to be ruined, he also didn’t have a house elf – which meant he didn’t cook, his ice box was usually woefully empty, and cleanliness was generally on the lowest scale.  He wasn’t home that much, it was like no one lived there.  Even Ray’s apartment had a sense that at least there were people here – though, maybe it was just the sense that his work robes were hanging up next to hers and their shoes sat near each other, showing off the proportionate differences in their owners. 

He went back to pacing, it was a natural place to go for him and he shook his head.  “One of my brothers is staying there – well he was, and people drop by,” he sighed exasperatedly.  “I don’t want to be bothered at home – I don’t want you to be bothered either.  My family is overbearing – you saw that.  Hunter isn’t even the worst of them.” 

“Why would we want to deal with that?” They were excuses, he knew that, but they were good ones.  They were the reasons he kept everyone away from his family.  He didn’t want them to ruin what he had worked so hard at – showing her why it was wrong to get involved because people were crazy and his family verged on the craziest, with his mother ready and eager for anyone to step up – though he imagined she would not approve of Tamis, and then there was the brother issue, she-demon having been whispered in the flat on more than one occasion – Archer just… he didn’t want to subject her to that. 

Ruining the semblance of normalcy they had created just seemed… so counterproductive.  And he didn’t bother to raise his voice; instead, he just looked at her, totally baffled.  “I mean, we already deal with so much shite from everything else.  I don’t want to come home to deal with more of it.  Squeak’s protests are enough,” he tried to smile, though found himself in no mood.  “Does that make sense at all?"

Watching the man pace back and forth made her more restless than she already felt. Her gaze followed him back and forth with her arms crossed defensively in front of her and she almost wanted to ask him to stop.  It was not fair that he got to vent his frustrations and she certainly was not going to pace with him. That would… look ridiculous.  Since she lacked a physical outlet, she did the only thing she could and would do. She listened.

And she did not like what she heard.

“You believe they will disapprove.” She read between the lines of what he had said for herself. How the were overbearing. They had enough to deal with without the further ‘complication. And Squeak protested enough as it was. “So you rather just avoid it.” It could not work that way.

“You called me a coward.” Her jaw tight and gray eyes lacking, well, much of anything. He had done so almost a month ago, but she had forgotten. Those words had haunted her – he had been right. But she was not wrong. Not now. “I was afraid and you called me a coward.” She steadied her voice when it began to shake under the power of raw emotion. “They are your family and a part of your life. If you consider me apart of that you cannot pick and choose. I will not be a dirty secret you keep from them because you are afraid of what will happen. I will not live that way.”

That last sentence was a threat and it was intended to be taken as one. The lump that had consumed her throat was beginning to burn, a sensation that was likewise forming around the rim of her eyes. The realization that his relatives may not even have been aware of their new status had not occurred to her until Hunter Radley had told her as much. The ‘secret woman’ as he had put it. Was Archer that ashamed of her? For all of the harping and ranting he was raving on about his brothers and his parents, Tamis knew that he loved them. And she …. She… she loved him enough not to want to put a divide between them.

“They are your family,” she reiterated. “Be grateful that you have one that cares enough about you to be annoying.”

And she meant that. Tamis Raynor would have killed to have a blood relation that cared about her. She was used to being alone, was comfortable being alone, as that was what she was used to being. Ever since she was a little girl. She had an adherence to arbitrary touching and never understood the point of hugs and handshakes between individuals. Until she started dating Tait, she had not celebrated her birthday as there had not been anyone to celebrate it with. Squeak had tried. She would bake a cake. But she had just never seen the point. The Winter Holidays? She had spent them at school. And the family that she had? Included the one man she would be happiest to see drop off the face of the earth.

Tamis knew that her fellow Auror had enjoyed a more nurturing childhood. And, while she would never admit it out loud, she was envious of him for that. She was not going to let him hide from them at her flat.

And, she was not done yelling at him. Since she had not said as much earlier, she glared at him and stabbed a finger in his direction.

“And deciding for me what is ideal for ‘us’ is not a relationship. I do not need you making my opinions for me. I am bloody good enough at that on my own!”

 “I didn’t say that!” Archer barked back, he didn’t think his entire family would disapprove, primarily Joel and his mother. Clearly, Hunter enjoyed any situation in which Archer could be made uncomfortable – the woman didn’t matter to him, as long as there was one, and then there was his father, who would most assuredly like Tamis, as he was more like Archer than any of his other family members.  But then there was the extended family that basically filled the entire wizarding Piddlehinton, somehow everyone in that town was related and he didn’t want to overwhelm her.  Of course, his considerations were apparently unpleasant to Ray as she continued on her tirade.

He scowled when she flung his own words of nearly a month ago back at her – feeling that the situations were entirely different.  He was the only one of his entire family that mattered in this whole arrangement, and he wished that she would stop and think about THAT for a second rather than try to accuse him of hiding her away like some sort of dirty magazine.  He took her out when she let her, he wanted to be seen with her, because their work life was discreet, they had to play it low key, but she liked it that way, it seemed she had!  And she threatened him with leaving, of all things! 

Shaking his head, he again ran his hand through his hair, gripping the shorter ones at the base of his neck and huffing to vent out some of the frustration and avoid saying something he didn’t want to say.  He  was old enough and experienced enough to know when he was threatened with a good woman leaving, he wasn’t going to point at the door and tell her to get out – especially when he was in her flat, and would be discharged from his job if he did so for failing to comply by orders.  She had picked a grand night for this – neither of them could legally leave this apartment without the other. 

With that looming in the back of his mind, Archer felt the muscles in his back tense, his jaw tensed up and Archer tried to restrain himself.  Thankfully, he did not have the beer bottle in hand, or he surely would have thrown it by now.  “I’m not picking and choosing!” Archer finally said with a growing sense of despondency and frustration with this conversation, “I’m trying to work everything together as best I can!” 

He just didn’t want to screw everything up.  He didn’t see where she couldn’t see that – that he was trying to make this all okay for both of them.  She wasn’t used to the idea of a family, she wasn’t acclimated to having someone – outside of Squeak – butt into her life every day and constantly pester and prod and just sabotage all the good things one could have.  He was fairly certain that’s what they were good for – but she wouldn’t know that.

She wouldn’t know what it was like to be constantly undermined by the family, and to be at the major disadvantage of being the oldest and having the grand expectations of a normal family life before the rest of them, and falling woefully short with the choice of auror as a career path.  Now, they were proud of that – he was a good auror, a better auror than most who entered the program, but his personal relationships were usually lacking in their eyes because of the level of uncertainty, he didn’t want disapproval for something he approved of so strongly. 

“And deciding for me what is ideal for ‘us’ is not a relationship. I do not need you making my opinions for me. I am bloody good enough at that on my own!”

By now she was screaming outwardly, while Archer was screaming inside.  His emotions choked at his throat and his chest was tight.  He really could have thrown something, wanted to punch in a wall.  He would have if not for the fact that it would probably break his hand and then they’d have a wall to fix.  Archer didn’t even want a wand in his hand at this moment, he didn’t know what he would do – possibly silence her.  “Well, you know, I’ve been trying to do all this for you,” he growled.

“As much as you are no picnic, my family can be like the Spanish inquisition when they want to be.”  He frowned, “You don’t know them, Ray, and maybe – while this,” he motioned in between them, “is still being worked on, I didn’t want them – or anybody else – to f*ck it up,” profanity just happened to sneak in and Archer groaned in frustration.  “Is that so much to ask, Ray?  Just to be normal for a few damned hours a night?” 

“This is not normal,” she said very quietly. They continued to try and tell themselves that they were simulating some fraction of a normal life, but that simply was not possible. Not while he was shrugging off his family. Not while they were not outright admitting to the relationship to the Ministry of Magic. Not while he was bunking out at her flat to avoid having to return to his. Aurors and law enforcement in general, simply could not have normal relations, not until they retired. But normal people introduced significant others to family and went to each other’s homes. Was that not the general rule, that if a man did not plan on seeing a woman long term, he would encourage going back to her place rather than his?

She believed that was what had been bothering her the most, until he went on, attempting to guilt trip her.

“For me? You did not consult me. It should not be the best you can! All on your own, you decide what was right for us. I do not have sufficient social capabilities, but I thought the point of a relation was to work together.” She ran a hand through her much longer hair, pulling it back from her face and gripping it there. She did not like admitting insecurities. For the greater part of her life she had lived contently in a shell, letting the world pass her by. And then he had to go and ruin it. He had to make her want more. “Damn it, Archer. I thought I was doing something wrong.” She snapped at him, her voice catching. The burning sensation was now consuming both eyes and the sides of her nose but it was raw emotion, not tears, there. “That there was some inadequacy. I do not want to ruin this either.”

The way that he worded it he made it sounds as if there still were qualities that needed to be dealt with first. It was as if he was striving to mold the relationship into perfection but it was never going to be perfect. Such a concept did not exist when human beings were inserted into the equation. He had taught her that. He had challenged her with the reality that attempting to be perfect, to be something other than human, was folly. “Since you seem to be making all the decisions, tell me when you consider this relationship adequate enough to introduce to them.”

The fight had been drained from her and her entire demeanor proved it. Tamis Raynor was a lot of things. She had an insufferable pride. Her temper, while much of it had defused since her youth, was fiery and irrational. She was tenaciously stubborn and refused to give up on anything once she had chosen a stance. With anything and anyone other than Archer Radley. She could not stand to be angry with him and she was tired of standing here, unsure of what to do, and on the losing side of an argument. He was right. More than ten years of partnership aside and over twenty years of acquaintance, this relationship as it stood had only existed for the past two months. She did not have a right to butt into such personal matters.

He still looked ready to physically attack something. An angry and frustrated Archer Radley was not a person to be taken lightly. There was a lot of height and a lot of weight and a good deal of muscle to contend with. But she knew, even if furious and anxious, the man would not take a swing at her. The wall perhaps, but not her. And she could not stand feeling cornered in the kitchen anymore. So, she began to move, trying to carefully skirt around him. Squeak would finish the tea when it went off – wherever the elf was currently hiding. 

“I know this not normal, Tamis. I know damn well nothing about any of this is normal,” he scowled.  He would have liked it to be more than anything, but it was stupid to think that the both of them could manage that.  Imagining himself as an adult had never been something he could do.  He had never pictured himself as an adult in a stable relationship with a life that made sense, he never really imagined himself beyond a week from where he was at any point in time. 

But, even in the past ten years, maybe even the entire thirteen, no matter how he pictured himself at the end of the week, the only person who was consistently in each and every week was Ray.  She was always there, his annoying partner who turned into his trusted partner, and then his partner and best friend, and now someone he just couldn’t extract from any facet of his life.   He wanted to keep her there, keep her by his side, and had made it of utmost importance to avoid scaring her off or doing anything that might affect them in a negative way. 

Apparently his efforts to make things work were coming back to hite him in the arse though, and Archer couldn’t believe how messed up this was.  He didn’te ven know what to say to her, really.  It wasn’t as though he thought he was doing anything wrong and now here he was, dealing with this woman as though she were some petulant child and he was her father – telling her he knew what was best for her and it was her first time rebelling.  He didn’t expect this sort of thing to happen here; he just wanted a peaceful evening and it was turning into world war three in this flat.

That was until Ray just – the energy seemed gone and she declared that he would decide when it was time to bridge that gap – she was trying to get out of the room and he realized that it was because of him.  His tight muscles, drawn up face, expression of internalized anger was probably not only intimidating, but also very much discouraging.  He was just so wound up and the fact that they had been dragged down this road again.  For two people who did not like to fight, they certainly weren’t afraid of it. 

When she edged out of the room, Archer stood in the middle of the kitchen, alone and silent.  He would never do anything to her, and he wouldn’t hurt Cat or even Squeak, but alone, absorbing her disappointment in the whole thing and the fact that she just gave up… she didn’t even bother to stick it out.  It made a sick feeling bubble in his stomach, like maybe she was giving up on more than just the fight.  It was his last night in the flat; she could very well decide that it was the last night for a lot of things that he had come to look forward to every evening.

Leaning against the wall separating the kitchen from the sitting room, Archer rested his hands above his head, stretching his legs and back, trying to calm down, but still feeling all the intense emotions he had before she walked out.  The door hadn’t opened, none of that, so she hadn’t left the place, just left him alone.  Leaning up against that wall, he thought he would feel better, but it was just a reminder that both of them had built up these things, made their lives impenetrable so no one would get hurt, and he had just managed to hurt the whole thing. 

He pounded his fist into the wall out of frustration, and immediately shirked back. The wall shook and Archer looked as chips fell and the spider cracks in the paint and wall, dented and hurt, he looked down at his hand.  He didn’t feel any better.  It hurt, and he was frustrated.  He couldn’t believe he did that, looking at the wall, he felt immediately remorseful that he couldn’t control himself enough to stop that from happening and turning from the wall, he stood in the middle of the kitchen as the teapot started to whistle. 

It affronted his senses and Archer walked around the kitchen before exiting, letting Squeak make her way in – looking at Ray with a defeated sort of expression, the side of his hand already starting to puff up and bruising forming on his knuckles.  “I… what about Christmas?”  he blurted out, surprised at himself for even mentioning the upcoming holiday.  “You can meet everybody, we do a Christmas Eve… Christmas Day thing… out in Piddlehinton…” he licked his lips anxiously, "I want you to meet them, Ray. I do."

A flash of lightning illuminated the interior of the other room, highlighting the darkened corners of the room that the orange glow of the candlelight could not reach.  The grandfather clock, previously only heard, still ticking away in the corner, the minute hand now much closer to the twelve. The two hutches that composed the only other furniture besides the couch, two armchairs, and the small table the wireless was perched on. Old and dust covered and forsaken in the shadows of the room, they were filled with the more valuable relics from centuries of Raynors, quickly revealed, and then forgotten about again. Almost immediately, the world outside seemed to shudder with the bass roll of thunder.

Left standing in the middle of the room in the security and comfort of the crackling fireplace and overhead chandelier, Tamis Raynor was not sure what to do now. She had her arms crossed defensively across her chest and was watching the storm as it raged on beyond the window as if willing the one that had just occurred inside to magically eradicate itself. Now that she had removed herself from the situation she realized there was no where she could, or wanted, to go.

Her trust issues were not typical but that did not mean they were nonexistent. It was not that she did not trust Archer. Merlin, she did. How could she not? She did not worry about the typical concerns women had a habit of favoring in a relationship. There was absolutely nothing romantically obligating Archer Radley to her and he was too loyal (Hufflepuff after all) to cheat. But she… did not trust people in general. She had trouble with sincerity.  Every time someone became close, they were taken from her or something happened. It got to the point that not only did she prepare herself for that trauma, but she expected it.

SLAM. She did not flinch, at least not physically, but she did close her eyes for a moment, almost hearing the damage rendered to the wall. No doubt, the neighbors had heard it too. From behind her Squeak was much reactive, scurrying out from where she had been hiding in her Mistress’ bedroom (given the current mood between the humans, she had deemed it the safest location) and into the kitchen. Her green little face puffed up and darkened to a deeper hue as she glared at the Sir. The teapot was whistling and she dutifully attended to it, murmuring death threats low enough under her breath that she hoped they were inaudible.  Maybe Mistress would appease them for her. An Elf could dream.

Turning around at the sound of Archer’s voice, her gaze found his hand first, already swollen and inflamed and changing colors on him. He really had to stop suffering physical injuries whenever they fought. It made it incredibly hard to stay mad at him when that nurturing instinct took over, further enhanced by her brief stint in St. Mungo’s training to be a Healer. Finally her gaze drifted further upward, taking in his slumped shoulders and resigned expression. This most certainly was not the way she had wanted to receive such an offer. She would have been content in just switching off between flats.

Her gaze kept dropping to his right hand – his wand hand – as it seemed to grow twice its normal size. Instinct – both as an Auror and an almost-healer took over, and before responding she cautiously inched closer, not actually looking up at him. Regardless of whether he would actually hurt her or not, her fright and flight instincts were revolting against the idea of being that physically near him after such an explosive confrontation.

She hesitantly reached out to inspect his hand, sharply reminding him, “You are on duty.” It was vastly improbable that anyone was about to bust down her front door and start firing spells. But if it did happen, his wand hand was extremely useless in its current condition. The man was lucky that most of her Healer-in-Training experience had been mending bones the actual Healers felt were too mundane for the glorification of their titles. That is, if his pride (near comparable to her own) did not get in the way.

After a moment of reflection she said, much softer and gentler, “I thought it was a cardinal rule not to introduce a girlfriend on a holiday.”

For the first time, Archer ignored Squeak entirely.  He didn’t care what she had to say or what she wanted – including the death threats she was murmuring.  Whatever the house elf wanted or thought she wanted for him and from him was null.  It wasn’t as though he really cared about what she said ever anyway, but there were more important matters to attend to at this point anyway.  His hand was throbbing and everything didn’t really matter. 

Of course, she didn’t seem to think so, and she started forward. He grimaced, not wanting her to do anything to him right now.  It wasn’t as though he would push her away or anything, but distance was good and after doing something so stupid – like hit the wall and bust up his hand, he sighed.  There was no way he was going to get out of it though, she was resolute in most things and the healer that was still lingering under the surface wasn’t going to let him keep going with a hand that was bruised up and busted.  How could he be stupid enough to beat his wand hand into the wall?

He guessed he hadn’t been thinking, and though he felt a little less… tight and anxious, the throbbing of his hand was enough to make him irritable.  When she took his hand, reminding him he was on duty, he consented with a gruff little grunt, not saying much at all.  He really didn’t have anything to say.  She hadn’t responded to what he offered, probably meaning that she wasn’t interested, and Archer couldn’t blame her, he guessed.  Though, it took a lot to open up such a family holiday to his partner, who had never been invited even when they were working together for over ten years.

People suggested he invite her, since she worked with him and things, but he always found an excuse and somehow never got around to it.  He suspected she would have declined any other year too, they had never spent time outside of work together until a few months ago.  Whatever the case, he just let her take his hand and look at it – figure out what was wrong with it.  Hopefully, she was still acquainted with how to fix a hand or the impromptu trip to St. Mungo’s was really going to put an even bigger damper on whatever might have picked up some of the pieces. 

He cracked a half smile as she attempted humor, though winced when she put pressure on the side of his hand.  “You said it yourself – we’re not normal. We don’t follow the rules,” he tried to laugh, but retracted his hand from her for a moment, scowling as the throbbing became almost unbearable.  Licking his lips, he was about to say something when Squeak entered the room with two cups on a platter.  One was clearly tea, little string with tab sticking over the side, the other cup did not look recognizable to him except as something disgusting and he raised his eyebrows.

“Tea for Mistress,” she directed that comment at Ray in a more subdued tone.  The green creature turned to Archer with a far more stony expression, her eyes narrowing, “Pain reliever is for Sir,” she practically hissed, putting the tray on the coffee table and heading back to the kitchen, mumbling angrily.   

Archer looked at Ray, then the cup, then at the House elf disappearing around the corner.  He frowned.  “I’m not sure I trust it,” he confided with honesty, “she might be trying to kill me.  Mumbled something about poisoning my food earlier…”