Thwap Thwap Thwap

The clap of shoe soles against the cobblestones of Diagon Alley were the only sounds Jacoba made as she led the way from Reducto to the Leaky Cauldron.  She didn't want to say anything - she wouldn't say anything until they were well within muggle London.  It just ... right now, she needed friendly, home turf. 

And, a drink.

Little more than a curt 'Thank God' had greeted Adon when he finally arrived at the shop.  Frankly, Jacoba couldn't get out of the shop fast enough.  The whole exchange earlier that day had just left a horrible taste in her mouth - like she'd accidentally chugged a mouthful of bad tomato juice.  After being a little short-tempered with the first two shoppers after Roh's departure, she'd actually opted to close up shop an hour early.  She would have left early but that would have left Adon coming to a closed-up shop.  No - she'd just busied herself in back until Adon had arrived.  With him in tow, she'd taken the lead in the wordless (at least on her part) trek back to Charing Cross Road. 

She shuffled impatiently at the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, gesturing for Adon to hurry up and make the bricks vanish.  "Let's just go," Jacoba muttered as she pushed through the darkened pub and out on to the London street, full of cars and people talking on mobiles and perpetually lost looking teens lingering on bus stop benches. 

"I'm headed to De Hems.  Care to join?" she announced, heading up Charing Cross Road to Shaftesbury.  "One of your lovely cohorts left me craving a drink." 

This, undeniably, was not a good warm-up to tomorrow's plans. Jacoba had been curt when he'd picked her up and hadn't spoken a word since. But it didn't seem, entirely, that he was the cause. He could not fathom any reason why it would be, but he also knew women enough to know that sometimes that did not make a difference.

When the explanation was offered out -- proceeded by the desire to get as sloshed on cheap beer as possible -- Adon raised an eyebrow.

Aside from Jones, Joh only came in contact with one of his other "cohorts." She'd been Roh'd. It should be a god-damned verb. "What's she done this time?" he asked through grit teeth.

Adon didn't know what to do from here. She was practically bristling. Any physical contact might . . . cause an adverse reaction. He sucked on his teeth in thought as he turned in the direction of  --

He stopped. "Where's De Hems?"

"Just over here in Chinatown.  Off Shaftesbury."  She pulled up, glancing back at where Adon had stopped.  She waited, with Baldur at her side, until he'd caught up before setting off towards down Shaftesbury, again. 

She shoved her hands in her pocket, watching the pavement as she followed along one of the lines of cobblestone.  "She came by with some more paperwork from the liason office.  Apparently, they still find cohabitating to be inhibitively confusing."  She shrugged dismissively.  The paperwork was annoying, but it didn't really bother her. 

"Until she hoisted me in the air by my neck, she didn't even really do anything to me.  She wouldn't even- she never talks straight to me.  I'm just Domestic Ms. Muggle.  Either she's insulting me or she's writing me off as some stupid, foolish kid who doesn't know any better and puts all the blame on you for being the mugglefucker."  She let out the deep breath that she'd been holding through the tirade as she turned the corner onto MacClesfield Street. 

Slowly, Jacoba shook her head.  "I don't want her there, anymore," she said, shaking her head.  "I don't feel any safer with her.  She said it herself, even.  She hoped someone tried to kill me just so she can be proved right."

At the new set of directions, Adon turned sharply on his heel, hands in pockets as he nodded. "Alllllright," he drew out, puffing some air from his cheeks and watching his breath. It was still too damn cold.

God shouldn't make things this cold. Proof #1054 that God was a bastard. Or a sick cynic. Or that that man who created the Inter-Net, Al Gore, was right and we were all going to hell anyhow for our misuse of our resources. Which would be proof #1055. . .

Adon's lips twisted slightly at Jacoba's comment -- from his experiences with Roh, he didn't expect her to understand anything that wasn't 1. crass or 2. blunt or 3. lunch.

The next portion of the tale, however, brought Adon to a halt for a completely different reason. He had to work hard to listen past hoisted. . . air. . . by . . . neck.

Adon clenched this teeth tightly, hearing them squeak in response. "Harah!" he snarled. Baldur, responsive to the tone, gave a low growl. Adon didn't bother to look at the dog to see if it was directed at him or a sympathetic gesture. "She--" he began, but Jacoba was still speaking. It got worse?

"Mugglefucker," he repeated. His tone was now dead and toneless. "Yes. She likes that one."

That was, he was certain, enough to get her in some serious shit. Which, if he was honest with himself, he would most certainly stoop to at this point.

But that wasn't his place. "You should say something," he said, the terseness still in his voice. "Write to Raynor. That can't be tolerated. The damn bit-- sorry, witch -- has to got to learn some people skills."

Jonas would have laughed at that. And Adon, of course, would have punched him.

But right now, the person he wanted to punch was Roh. "I don't want her there anymore, either. And after this, I'm fairly certain Raynor won't, either. And she doesn't. So win-win-fucking-win," he grumbled, shoving his hands further into his pockets so that he didn't break something.

He was glad, now, he hadn't been holding Jacoba's hand. For a moment, they walked in silence as Adon sought to put his feeling it words.

"Harah!" he repeated.

The hard, tense knot that had formed in her chest just as Roh had left the record shop clenched slightly.  There was no one in front of her on the sidewalk so she closed her eyes, letting her feet and the pressure on the leash guide her blindly. 

She felt humiliated, frustrated and slightly confused.  Nested in the middle of all of that was an uncertainty as to what degree she had a right to be frustrated and complaining.  She was a visitor, no - a tourist - she was there on their terms.  If she didn't agree, the solution was obvious.  And, no one was really willing to take her seriously.  And, hadn't it even been less than a month since Adon had made it clear that this, between them, was all likely temporary. 

Perhaps, on some level, that had been what had bothered Jacoba the most about the conversation with Roh - knowing, deep down, this whole situation was self-limiting.  For all that she might be the outcast muggle to most of the witches and wizards around them, for the first time she actually felt she belonged somewhere.  But, at some point, this mirage would wither and fade.  Her brother would come of age; whatever tied Adon to elsewhere would come to the forefront and that would be it.  And, because she was the tourist, her trepidation towards that inevitability lacked legitimacy. 

She heard the footsteps stop behind her and opened her eyes, once more, looking back at Adon.  The low growl did draw her attention down towards the dog when she felt the growl reverberating through the leash.  But, the dog's attention was on the shadow of a pedestrian on the opposite side of the street.  Baldur had simply looked for the most likely immediate cause of Adon's anger. 

"Mugglefucker  Yes. She likes that one."

"So unoriginal.  And, not even true," Jacoba muttered with a shake of her head.  She rubbed her face with her free hand.  Then, louder, "It's just stupid and immature.  And, she just dismisses me as the impulsive kid." 

Which, Jacoba wasn't going to deny she could be impulsive at times.  After all, she'd found herself on a train heading back to London from Amsterdam within all of eighteen hours of getting Sasha's letter.  Of course, she'd also been under the impression he'd been corrupted by some cult.  "And, I get it.  At least, I'm trying to.  As much as she's given me the opportunity to.  I tried to talk to her - I tried but she doesn't even bother to listen."  She shoved both hands in her pocket to escape the cold. 

She considered Adon's recommendation in silence, the anxious knot of compressed energy in her chest working its way out through puffing out small clouds of ice crystals in the cold, night air.  "You really think that's a good idea?" she finally asked.  "I'm not exactly in a position to be causing waves.  They could just ... do that whole Men In Black mind wipe thing and toss me curbside, couldn't they?  I mean - what's to stop Roh from doing that?"  On more than one occasion, representatives from the Ministry had come by and made it quite clear what the consequences were of overstepping her bounds.  They'd also made it clear that what was considered 'overstepping her bounds' was rather subjective. 

She was grateful when they started moving again and she adjusted her pace so she was walking next to Adon rather than a half pace in front. 

"So unoriginal.  And, not even true."

Adon flushed slightly, though in this light, it would have been impossible to tell except for the marked silence as he moved along. Yes, that was. . . well that was pretty remarkable, considering they'd lived together for over four months. He wouldn't have believed it, either.

He clung to the next comment:  "It's just stupid and immature.  And, she just dismisses me as the impulsive kid."

"It's Roh's way of coping with humanity. It must be hard, to be saddled with the comprehension of a toothpick, to get on with the rest of us."  Too abrasive by half. And yet not far enough.  "She treats me the same." But not quite the same. She'd never dared cast a spell on Adon. If she had --

"I just -- if I'd been there, I would have--" Adon cut himself off. To see his girlfriend threatened like that. Threatened by her protector. He could envision any number of scenarios. All violent. He glanced back down at his shoes. "I'd have lost it," he admitted, self-consciously. "But I would have done something," he said, looking back up at her, wanting her to know -- hoping she already did.

"I wouldn't have let her do anything to you, Joh." Sucking in on his cheeks, he continued to walk, furious -- now at himself, for not being there, or for the type of behaviour he would have displayed had he been there. "Let's get inside. It's freezing," he added, somewhat peevishly.

He looked up and, with a sigh, noted that they weren't yet near their destination. "Come on," he said, interlocking arms with her, somehow thinking this would make them go faster. Meanwhile, he considered her surprise at speaking with Tamis. "Of course I think it'd help. Tamis is, if anything, a rational being. And Roh is not." But it wasn't that easy. Adon swallowed uncomfortably at the mention of Obliviating.

He couldn't deny it. They could do that to her any time they wished. And they'd be justified. Everything -- her time here, her relationship with him, the feelings she felt -- everything could be gone at someone else's discretion. And it wasn't even a crime.

What was to stop Roh -- or anyone?

"Nothing. . ." Adon said very quietly. "Except your rapport with the community --" which wasn't doing too well, "and their sympathy --" also lacking. He took a deep breath before letting loose his next words in an exhalation, "and the fact that I won't let that happen." That was something. "But talking to Raynor . . . it's a good idea."

"She's. . ." Adon began, trying to convince himself before he convinced Jacoba that Tamis was on their side -- "she's helped Jonas before . . ." he mused aloud. But he knew, if it was a choice between his personal life -- or happiness -- and the law, which she'd pick. Ah! But that was it! "She's dedicated to her job, Jacoba. And she takes it seriously. And her job is to ensure that victims are taken care of and that her Aurors are not breaking rules left and right."

He ventured a slight smile. "Trust me on that one. She definitely enforces that one." Raynor ran a tight ship, even if Adon had no clue, sometimes, where that ship was headed. "You can gauge by her response what you want to do. Maybe she'd even let me come along." Doubtful, but worth a shot.

 It was frustrating - Roh was frustrating. 

There had, actually, been one brief moment back there in that shop where Jacoba had hoped, even believed, that maybe they'd found something they could forge some mutual understanding in.  But, that moment had vanished in the space of a thought.  "Huh," she half-snorted vaguely, glancing sideways at Adon.  It was only the sheer incredulity with which Jacoba considered the notion of someone treating Adon like a child that made her question whether he was being entirely truthful or saying things that he thought might make her feel better.  Given what she knew of Roh, though, she wouldn't put it past the woman. 

She did, however, believe his assurance of protection. 

It was her turn to come to a stop, letting his words replay in her head as her gaze lingered on the sidewalk a few steps ahead of her.  She believed him, of course.  This sense of feeling protected was just ... it was a new feeling.  After seven years of learning to be self-sufficient and self-reliant, it wasn't really a feeling she'd ever expected to experience.  But it wasn't, she found, unwelcome.  In fact, quite the opposite.  "Thank you," she offered, quietly, finally looking up at him.  She turned towards him and stepped close, burrowing her face into the collar of his coat as she slipped the end of the leash in her pocket to free her arms and wrapped them around his neck. 

It felt good to press herself close to him.  She could feel the warmth and presence of his body against her, hear his breathing and his muskiness filled her own lungs with every breath.  For as vulnerable and helpless as she'd felt a few hours ago, she felt at least as safe and secure in this moment - if not more so.  She remained motionless for several moments but, finally, she took a deep breath and pressed a kiss to Adon's neck before straightening up and turning forward, again, taking the offered arm. 

"If you really think it's unlikely to make things worse," she offered, tentatively, her thoughts a little clearer and less anger-driven than before the embrace.  She knew he couldn't guarantee that - nothing was ever for certain.  "I guess I'll have to write- or owl her.  I suppose if I actually hear back, that'll be a good sign." 

She couldn't prevent the shiver that raced down her spine.  Perhaps it was irrational - Roh would probably have called her ordering of priorities foolish and ignorant.  But, that whole mind wipe thing terrified her more than any other prospect she'd come across.  What was to stop them from just doing it on a whim?  Or, taking it too far?  Or ... even not taking it too far ... just the sheer thought of someone having uncontrolled access to her thoughts and memories and who she was.  And, from what she'd gathered, it wasn't just straight amnesia - they could make her believe she was whoever or whatever they wanted her to believe.  If it ever came to that - she was as good as an illegal immigrant as far as it went to having any real legal rights or protections.  One wrong move and she could lose everything - in every way shape and form.  And so thoroughly that she wouldn't even know she'd lost it. 

She shivered again. 

"I get along decently with those who are open to the idea," she considered aloud.  "Either they love it or hate it."  Either they supported her or no.  She was quickly discovering the ranks of the ambivalent were smaller than she'd once thought.  "I know you wouldn't.  But, is that really how it'd happen?  I mean, is there like a trial or something?"  Would there be time for him to know?  "She couldn't just walk in there one day and -"  In the absence of knowing what mind wiping looked like without a wand, she raised her hand and pantomimed something that fell somewhere between shooting a gun and the Men In Black flashy stick. 

She took a few more steps in silence.  "Is it inevitable?" she asked, quietly.  She hesitated for a few steps.  There was a question lingering in the front of her mind and she felt like she needed it answered - to know what to expect.  But, she didn't want to give the wrong impression.  "She made a comment.  Something about the Ministry only tolerating us if, well, it's legitimate and clear.  Like - in marriages.  Does that mean- if ... when you leave, are they going to to?  And, when Sasha's eighteen?  Or seventeen?" she quickly corrected, shaking her head.  "Will they make me forget that?  They can't make me forget him, can they?"  Can they or would they?  They seemed to be two very different questions.

Jacoba pulled away, and the disappointment at the cold air that now filled the space between them wasn't just from his distaste of the weather. He gave a slight frown, but settled for wrapping his arm around her wais as they talked.

"I guess I'll have to write- or owl her.  I suppose if I actually hear back, that'll be a good sign."

"Writing works," he said, noting her correction. To clarify, he added, "I mean, using the phrase 'I'll write her' works." Jacoba was doing what she could to integrate seamlessly into the Magical world. Adon wasn't sure that could ever be accomplished, or if he, in fact, wanted that. He liked her for her differences.  It was interesting -- always interesting -- dating Jacoba.

Sometimes, though, he wished her "differences" weren't quite so interesting to others.  It would be nice, for once, to be in a relationship that wasn't questioned at every turn by lookers-on.

"There's nothing wrong in what we are doing," he added, obstinant, but not at anything she had said. "I checked, and there is nothing prohibiting even casual dating." Adon avoided, at all costs, throwing out that M-word. The only thing worse was when she mentioned when he left her.  He was only glad Jacoba had left the words where they hung: in the air, rootless, 2 minutes ago. "Unlike some cultures--" like Israel, "there aren't laws forbidding marrying out of your . . ." how did one say this, "kind. Only cultural pressure." He gave an irritated expression at the neccessary but awkward word choice, and pressed on. "The only thing I can see that would potentially be a violation of any wizarding law is you actually working at Diagon Alley and receiving wizarding money as payment. And those instances in which I -- or any other non-relatives -- perform magic in front of you, as you are not direct family. But even that is debatable." Employment at Reducto. . . slightly less so. "But, Joh, there aren't laws about this sort of thing because it's in violation of some moral sentiment in our community. The reason there aren't laws preventing you is because -- no one has really done this before." He was sure there were several instances in history; either they'd been Obliviated and forgotten in the sands of time, as they'd forgotten it themselves, or they had been so notable, so prominent and powerful that no one would dare question them.

"They may just decide to come up with legislation particular to you -- to your case, and if that is so . . . I not only have no idea of knowing what the laws might look like, but there wouldn't be a whole lot I could do."

Except get her out.

This was about to be an even less popular suggestion than writing Tamis Raynor. "Have you considered looking for a job. . . beyond Diagon?"

Writing works.  Jacoba nodded tucking the clarification away in the back of her mind for future reference.  It was like learning a new language.  Luckily, of all the academic fields out there, linguistics was her strongest. 

"So, it's just the trespassing."  So, to the Ministry and those like Roh, dating would be alright, just so long as Jacoba didn't actually share in that part of his life.  That big, all encompassing part of his life.  The same, apparently, held true for her brother.  By including herself in that part of her brother's life he'd been forced to hide for years, she was trespassing. 

Jacoba shook her head in a mixture of frustration and confusion.  "It's just lost on me," she admitted, chewing her lip.  She took a few more steps in silence, trying to transform the jumble of confusion in her head into comprehensible words.  "How can this be unique to me?  What ... what do other muggleborns do?  Do their families just pretend that part doesn't exist?  Do they just ... do they go separate ways?"  Maybe, for most of them, it was easier.  Perhaps, in most cases, they still had the rest of their family to turn to.  And, perhaps, for the muggleborn witch or wizard it was even easier.  They had this whole new world to find their place in.  Jacoba had had nothing when she returned to London to find her brother.  She'd followed him into this world. 

And, now, outside of the wizarding world, there was still nothing.  In packing up and leaving Amsterdam on that whim, Jacoba had left her old life behind, literally and figuratively.  She was always reluctant to speak of it, even to Adon.  She wanted to leave it in the past; speaking of it would just gave it more credence and validity than she wanted to offer it. 

"I tried for almost a month when I first got here," Jacoba reminded Adon.  She'd spent weeks pounding the pavement of muggle London.  Her resume was far from impressive and given the current climate in the muggle world, it had been no surprise she hadn't even got a call back.  "I'm a foreign university drop out.  With the recession going on in the muggle world, people with doctorates are fighting to serve coffee.  Being EU helps but nationals still get preference.  Contrary to unpopular belief, I didn't go looking for a job in Diagon as part of some revolution.  She offered me a job and I took it.  Because, quite frankly, she's probably the only one here willing to hire me.  In either world."