Spinoff from Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

Iza froze as assuredly as the wolf did, when  Cináed shouted 'STOP!' like an avenging god, hand outstretched toward her as he pushed past the meddling witch.  Oh, God, she thought.  She's a paramour and I've ruined her.  It wasn't my fault the silly slitch tried to take on a werewolf in broad daylight then blew  Cináed's cover at the top of her-- Wait.

'Get inside,'  Cináed told her, but she was still stunned by the half-thought.  A werewolf in broad daylight.  She turned toward it and flinched as it rushed past, then she nodded, not daring to look at  Cináed again.  This was why she'd left--or at least part of the reason.  She was a liability.  He wasn't even supposed to know she was here...

Meekly, she complied, stumbling toward the first building she came to, eyes blinded as she stifled tears.  She'd screwed up again...

Iza jerked on the door and it gave way willingly.  She slipped inside, paused on the threshold while her eyes adjusted and jumped a little when the door slapped her in the ass as it fell closed again.  More than anything, she wanted to be outside in the street, shielding  Cináed with her own body if it came to that.  He shouldn't be alone.  He shouldn't be unprotected, but she'd already caused more trouble in three seconds than he could probably fix in an hour.  It wasn't her fault!  That woman had threatened to betray him!  She'd shouted to the world that  Cináed had a wand...

But it was her fault.   Cináed could take care of himself and every time she tried to help she ended up making a mess for him to clean up.  Like with that bearded guy, and with Lib and of course with Robin whom he hadn't even trusted her with.  That's not fair, she reminded herself.  You left before he brought Robin home.  You didn't give him the chance...

The problem was that Iza was in love with  Cináed.  He was everything that was good in her world.  He was the only one she could count on (besides herself) and for that she would take on an army of reporters with her bare hands if she must...  But  Cináed never asked for her help and, in fact, if he loved her in return,  Cináed loved a great many women.  Iza watched them parade through his life, young and old, and eventually the green-eyed monster wormed its way into her soul.  She spent the better part of a month trying to prove she was more valuable than they.  Then she spent the better part of the next month convincing herself it didn't matter, as long as she still had some token to cherish.  And by the end she faced the facts:  Cináed wasn't simply a man, he was a god.  As a god, he was destined for greatness: men and women alike would fall at his feet and Iza would be only one among his worshippers.  Her jealousy, her petty need for a place by his side, was insignificant in comparison.

She could only hold him back.

And now, it was starting again.  Less than ten seconds ago, she'd laid eyes on him for the first time since winter began.  And within that ten seconds, she'd ruined something, overreacted, forced him to command her away.  She wiped a tear from the bridge of her nose with her robe's sleeve and sniffled loudly.

She was answered by splintering wood.

She took a single step into the relative gloom of the shop then froze when she heard the howl of frustration.  Her heart hammered in her breast.  She'd chosen the wrong door.  She couldn't even do this right.  As she froze, the wolf came looking for its quarry and she found herself face-to-face (or perhaps face-to-snout) with her own death.  There was no  Cináed to command the wolf away, this time.  Surely, this was it.  Surely it was time to meet her maker, time to pay the piper, time to walk that last lonely mile...

She squared her shoulders resolutely and pointed her wand in the general direction of the direwolf though she'd seen that magic had little effect on the beast.  She bared her teeth in a feral grin and said, "I dare you."  Then she dug in her tiny feet waist-width apart, straightened so her petite frame, drew up to her full, childish height, steeled her spine for one last effort and whispered bravely, "For  Cináed."  With a deep breath and a flick of her wand, she focused rigidly on the wolf and cried out, "Sectumsemp--"

The crowd was scattering.  Thursby had apparated off, her memory frustratingly empty.  Dugan had charged off after some muggle - with luck, the muggle would pay the only acceptable price such a filthy infiltrator should pay.  The slower the muggle died, the better.  If Cinaed had his way, the muggle's remains would be skewered and staked outside the door to the Leaky Cauldron as a warning to others to stay away. 

If that didn't get the message across, little could.  And, Cinaed could hardly be blamed for what might befall anyone that crossed the threshold after. 

Everything had gone off as expected.  There'd only been one detail that had been suspiciously out of place:  Iza.  Where she'd come from or why she was there, Cinaed couldn't have guessed.  Where she'd gone off to was even less certain.  Given this was only the start of what was to be a long day and night, it wasn't wise to leave her wandering Diagon unaware and naive.  It would probably only be a matter of moments before word of his presence would reach the Aurors.  And the clock had started to tick the moment Cinaed had resumed his human form. 

He crossed the alley at a run; the street was still blissfully empty in Dugan's wake.  With a flick of his wand, the door Iza had passed through flew open and Cinaed ducked through the doorway.  Even before his eyes had time to adjust to the darkness, a vivid soundtrack had painted the picture.  The heavy snarling and breathing were impossible to mistake.  Izadora's answering challenge was, likewise, quite obvious.  With his wand still held tightly in one hand, he moved up behind Iza and snaked one arm around her just as she started to fire off the curse.  Holding her tightly against him, Cinaed turned on the spot, leaving Diagon Alley and London far behind him. 

---------

When Cinaed's feet touched ground once more, a moment later, they sunk heavily into sand.  A short expanse of beach[1] stretched out in front of him, bordered on three sides by solid, craggy cliffs.  Deep, cold water stretched out to the horizon along the fourth side.  Though patches of weak sunlight broke through the partly cloudy sky, the air still seemed to hold to a last, bitter bite of winter, a cold made even worse by a stiff, frigid wind off the water. 

Cinaed dropped his arm from around Iza and strode across the beach towards the water.  He waved his wand along the line of the cliffs, casting a variety of wards and charms before finally turning back towards the young woman.  "You've got interesting timing," he commented.  Though he faced her, his eyes remained in constant motion, scanning up and down the length of beach.  "You vanish for months and then happen to show up in the midst of that?"

1.	Achmelvich Beach, Scotland

When Cinaed's arm snaked about her waist, Iza gasped and the spell died on her lips.  She tensed, but not because of the arm holding her or the warmth pressed against her back: she knew the caress of Cin's hair on her shoulders, breathed in his familiar scent, and though she was surprised she recognized him without turning.  She breathed deeply, involuntarily.  Cinaed always felt like... home.

But the werewolf cared little about touching reunions.  Iza saw, now, that this was a different one: smaller, with a lighter patch of fur on its ruff.  Smaller or not, it was still dangerous and Iza tensed because she saw its muscles bunch to leap at her.  She scrunched her eyes closed, preparing for the inevitable.  She had just enough time to think, At least Cinaed is behind me, so he won't be hurt, but not enough time to gather her wits to apparate.

Luckily for her, Cinaed did have the sense and whisked them both from harm's way with inches to spare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gull called out mournfully.  Sea-spray dusted her face gently, as the patient hushhhh of the surf assaulted her ears.

When the disorientation of side-along apparition receded a moment later, Iza opened her eyes, halfway surprised to still be alive.  Cinaed released her and strode away.  She suppressed a brief pang of loss and already her back grew cold as the warmth of his chest receded, almost as if it followed him as he walked away.  She didn't blame it. 

When he turned back to face her, she was weak with relief.  'You've got interesting timing.'  Though he faced her, now, his eyes roamed.  She couldn't help wondering if he just didn't want to look at her.  It was an irrational thought.  'You vanish for months and then happen to show up in the midst of that?'

She reached a hand out to him and took an involuntary step forward before she caught herself and stopped again.  Her arm dropped and she hugged herself against the chill breeze... and what, to her, sounded like an accusation.  Not that she didn't blame him.  But then, she'd vanished for his own good.  She squared her shoulders resolutely as she dropped her arms to her sides. 

"I... didn't just happen to show up," she admitted, unsure if her voice even carried over the surf.  A large wave crashed against the cliffs in the distance and she paused, cleared her throat and began again more loudly.  "I was... nearby."  In fact, she'd been only a few blocks from him the entire time she was gone.  She may have been too cowardly to stay, but she was also too cowardly to leave.  Many nights, she took solace in the thought that Cinaed was near, imagined him lying in his bed, the fire roaring, the french doors to his apartment standing ajar and a stray breeze causing him to shiver in his sleep.

She had purposefully not checked on him, nor followed any news of him, afraid that she'd be tempted to once again meddle.  But when she'd heard his name shouted in the street... she hadn't thought.  She'd only run to him as she'd wanted to do time and again if only in her dreams...

Cinaed continued to move slowly back along the beach until he was almost two-thirds of the way to the surf.  From that vantage, he could easily see the full expanse of the beach.  If there was any sign of movement - any sign of activity on the beach, Cinaed would disapparate to another location.  Iza, though, was an unexpected ... complication was too harsh of a word.  But, in terms of his own general safety and freedom, it fit.  Right now, until he ... or they were someplace secure, she was a potential complication.

Hastily, even a little impatiently, Cinaed waved a hand, beckoning Iza towards him.  If the need arose to disapparate, he wanted her within arm's reach.  She hadn't, as of yet, really done anything wrong but given the way the Aurors worked, that might not mean much.  She'd been seen coming to his defense; she'd been seen in his company before.  If Aurors suddenly showed up, he didn't want to be put in a position where he'd consider hesitating on anyone's account - especially hers.  And, he likely would.  If they found her with him, again, they very well might toss her in Azkaban first and ask questions second.

He continued to scan the area.  The first three minutes after an apparition were the riskiest, he'd always figured.  If someone had been tailing him or had managed to find a way to track him, it seemed they'd show up without too much delay.  He figured they'd try to nab him before he'd moved too far off - if not catch him off guard when he first landed.  If someone was going to follow him, Cinaed figured the chances were good they'd show up soon after he'd landed.  He usually gave himself at least twenty minutes at any intermediate destination, though.  If there'd been no sign of anyone and no indication in the wards that there had been any detectable magical disturbances, he would apparate on to his destination. 

"Nearby," Cinaed looked towards Iza with a dubious half-grin.  "You were nearby.  You didn't remain nearby - you showed up.  Running."  To be honest, Cinaed wasn't quite sure if he was annoyed yet or relieved.  Excited or frustrated.  He was happy to see her.  The whole proceeding had just been going so well...so much to plan.  Until Thursby's mind had been wiped.  Cinaed let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead. Of course, it wasn't Iza's fault - she had no way of knowing.  It was just generally frustrating. 

"Now what?" he posed, casting a brief curious glance in Iza's direction before resuming his scanning.  Chances were slim he'd relax until he was back at one of his home bases.  "Werewolves are going to be running rampant until tomorrow morning, at least.  Some of mine are going to be running well into tomorrow.  Neither London nor Hogsmeade is safe.  I'm not sure where you left to before or if that's where you want to go, now."

When  Cináed beckoned to her, Iza went instantly though she hesitated just shy of touching him.  The breeze caught her hair and she tucked it behind her ear, but still it flung toward him as if it yearned to embrace him with questing tendrils.

She realized suddenly that his vigilance wasn't a reluctance to look at her.  He was expecting... someone.  She wouldn't expect that  Cináed would possibly discard his own safety for hers.  If the Ministry showed up to arrest him... she would be upset if he threw away his freedom, or risked his life to take her along.  Perhaps it was over-confidence, but she thought she could handle the Ministry: Iza was very good at telling the truth.  She was rarely forced to lie.  She simply told that portion of the truth that was applicable to proving her innocence in such a manner that her questioner never doubted that it was the whole truth.  A werewolf had attacked her.   Cináed was a hero.  She steadfastly believed that was enough to acquit her.

But that was neither here nor there, since she did not suspect that  Cináed had actually jeopardized his freedom by taking her along, nor that he would consider throwing it away for her.

'Nearby...'  He sighed and rubbed his forehead.  Iza felt a tiny pang of remorse.  She had complicated things for him and she knew it.  He should have let the wolf have her.

'Now what?'  He finally looked at her and she knew a brief moment of relief.  Though his stance was guarded, possibly frustrated, she imagined she saw a spark of... something that said perhaps he was happy to see her in his glance.  '...I'm not sure where you left to before or if that's where you want to go, now.'

"You're... sending me away again?" she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.  Yes, stupid.  And wasn't that the point?  He's better off without you...  She firmed up her chin and tucked her hair behind her ear again angrily as the wind whipped it into her mouth.  "I've been living in Diagon," she admitted.  She flung it at him almost defiantly.  "And Diagon is now overrun by werewolves."  Some of mine, he'd said.

Iza had changed during her absence.  Certainly, she was as completely devoted to  Cináed as ever and, because of that, devoted to his cause and his vision.  She would never be quite sane where  Cináed was involved.  But... years of spell damage were slowly but surely lifting and rational thought was once more returning.  She would probably never completely overcome the impulsiveness that was the natural reaction to years of oppression.  The way she overreacted to the possibility that the witch in Diagon would betray  Cináed to the Ministry attested to that.  But she'd turned her back on his cause to free him and she discovered she had enough to keep her busy, just learning about life and how to take care of herself.

The lone gull piped mournfully again and circled overhead.  She looked up at it, squinting against the gloomy sky, and shivered.  She pulled her cloak more tightly about her against the early-spring chill.  Her slippers were already soaked through.

She swallowed her pride--pride she'd only learned of late.  "Can't I--" she began, suddenly hesitant again.  "Can't I stay with you a while longer?"  She finished in a rush and tentatively reached out to take his hand.  No, it wasn't wise.  And if he agreed, he was a fool.  But... foolish as it was to throw away months of hard labor building up her walls, Iza would trade it all for just one night.  Her independence hadn't been what she'd been striving for, however, but his.  The moment she asked, she roiled with opposing emotions.  But maybe... just maybe.  A few hours together.  Perhaps he'd ask the questions that she desperately wanted to answer for him, perhaps he could find understanding...

Or maybe he simply didn't mind that she'd been away and wasn't even curious why she left.  In which case, Iza's burden could be lightened at least a little.

Whatever confidence Iza held about her ability to handle the Ministry, Cinaed didn't share it.  He'd used one of the Ministry's own to assassinate the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  He'd attempted to kill the Head Auror.  He was still in possession of his kidnapped son and he was now known to be highly involved with coordinating the WBA.  It was probably only a matter of time before they were able to connect his wolves with him.  Cinaed didn't doubt that, if they suspect she was involved with him, the Ministry would try to use Iza to get at him. 

He was safer not leaving her behind if he'd been seen apparating away with her. 

"Again?"  Cinaed repeated, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-grin.  His mind was quickly rifling through events, trying to identify when, exactly, he'd sent her away before.  He knew, well enough, it was likely he wouldn't find anything.  A woman's frustration and anger was usually impressive - and irrational.  She was already agitated; sarcastic humor was, likely, not the way to proceed with the conversation.  But, despite her annoyance and agitation, Cinaed's adrenaline was still buzzing from the scene back in Diagon.  Cinaed rocked on the balls of his feet in time, the grains of sand grated against each other under his boots.  "I would definitely recommend steering clear of Diagon until, at least, tomorrow.  Or, at least, stay inside."  And, don't come running at them without some sense of what you're running into.

She wanted to stay with him.  It took effort to avoid agreeing immediately and without second thought.  Cinaed had his son and his freedom and he was pursuing what the WBA needed him to pursue.  Those were, ultimately, important and worth his fugitive status.  But, he wasn't a loner - he'd never been one.  The isolation and separation was wearing on him.  All other factors aside, he'd take her company in an instant and for as long as she offered.  But, things weren't that simple. 

"I'd love to have you come with me," he offered truthfully though there was an obvious but waiting at the edge of his statement.  It took more effort than it should have to offer it. 

"The longer you're in my company, the harder it'll be to weasel your way free of the Ministry.  You can't just visit and leave again and hope no one will take note.  Not this time, at least."  He didn't voice it but chances were that'd never be possible again.  He knew it was inevitable that people were drawing comparisons between him and the Dark Lord but the differences simply far outweighed the similarities.  Cinaed wasn't seeking power.  He wasn't seeking Ministry control.  It was unlikely the WBA would ever take such universal control that his crimes would be overlooked.  He wasn't working to obtain his own freedom: this was to obtain his son's freedom.  But, he also knew he would never go back to Azkaban.

He was Robin Hood and the WBA were the merry men. 

The Ministry was King John.  Raynor wore his badge. 

'Again?'

She kept silent.  That wasn't exactly what she'd meant, though she realized it sounded like it.  She'd meant, Do I have to go away again?  But then... it was  Cináed's ambitions that had sent her away, if she was honest with herself.  She didn't want to stand in the way...

'I'd love to have you come with me,'  Her heart lurched, though she sensed a but coming.  She breathed a little faster, waiting... 

'The longer you're in my company, the harder it'll be to weasel your way free of the Ministry.  You can't just visit and leave again and hope no one will take note.  Not this time, at least.' 

Is that all?  Iza flooded with relief.  She felt giddy.  Then she forced herself to calm.  Her involvement in  Cináed's life had cost her.  Could, eventually, cost them both.  Did she really want to commit to that?  He wasn't asking her to help (which, she thought, she would have to decline not because she didn't want to help but because she doubted her abilities and feared that her help might be worse than a hindrance).

He was giving her an out.  Not this time, at least.  She could go back to Diagon, stay inside, wait out the full moon, and perhaps he'd come for her a different day.  Or night--night was best.  An open window, who would notice a lone magpie on the window sill?  Almost, she was tempted...

Or she could go with him, but in doing so she'd commit to days or weeks--or more-- in his company before it was safe to return to her humdrum life without him.  Was the Ministry really that close?  Were they really watching so closely that anyone seen in  Cináed's company for thirty seconds would be detained, questioned, tortured...?  Iza felt doubt creep in...

"I wouldn't have left if I thought there was any choice," she told him honestly enough.  "You--"  No time to be a wimp, now.  "You've important work to do, and I always mess it up."  She smiled wryly and tipped her chin up so she could look at him directly.  "A week or a month, I doubt if anyone would notice if I vanished."  In fact, her landlady slash employer probably didn't even notice the passage of time, much less Iza's schedule.  "But...  Cináed, I've already messed things up.  I always see it, after the fact.  Aren't you afraid--?"  She left it hanging.  An invitation to change his mind, without hurting her feelings, since he'd admitted that he had a plot afoot.

At the same, every fiber of her body yearned toward him, like a kid staring into a candy store window who hadn't any money to spend...

Aren't you afraid--?"

A grin spread across Cinaed's face, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as his beard twitched in response.  "Not usually," He offered.  Perhaps he should be.  He was heading down a path that offered no u-turn.  A tagalong could - would make things trickier. 

Perhaps, if he'd been more prone to fear, something akin to wisdom would have spoken up to offer some common sense.  But, that wasn't who he was - he hadn't gotten where he was by making rational, logical decisions.  Right now, he had two options: take the out that she'd offered and send her on her way or take her with him.  The former was probably the right thing to do.  As to the later-

The potential of companionship - for a night, for a week, for a month - was just too inviting to turn away from.  "Alright," he offered with a nod then a coy grin.  "Let's get out of the cold."  He gave their surroundings one last long, thorough scan as he wrapped an arm around Iza and disapparating. 

The relentless crashing of waves against rock met Cinaed's ears once more when he feet touched ground.  They were along a craggy stretch of coastline, not unlike the one they'd just left.  There were differences though most of them subtle: the landscape was flatter though the shoreline was rockier.  A seal could be heard barking a short distance away.  The most obvious difference, though, was a small stone cottage along the shore.  Cinaed kept his wand drawn and led the way across through the gate in the stone wall and into the front door. 

A small, grey-haired man sat at a table in front of a fire.  At the sight of Cinaed, the man's expression seemed to become oddly blank as he pushed himself to his feet and picked up a small bag of food and a large bundle of firewood and toted both over to Cinaed.  After a few muttered, almost unintelligible words, Cinaed turned and led the way back out of the cabin and down towards the shoreline where a small boat was moored amidst the rocky crags.  With a flick of his wand, the boat moved in close enough to climb into.  Cinaed turned and offered Iza a hand. 

"I don't think you messed things up too much," he offered, finally returning to the previous conversation.  "I'm sure Thursby will find a way to get her memories back.  If she didn't, she'd probably drive herself mad knowing she couldn't remember something.  She's too curious for her own good."  It was only a matter of time before she remembered.  It was a shame he couldn't be there when she did.  The picture would be almost as priceless as the one of Cinaed helping her. 

A grin spread Cináed's face.  Iza knew that grin.  It wasn't just "devil may care," it was, "bugger the devil sideways," and frankly, if anyone could get the devil to stand still for it, it was  Cináed...

'Let's get out of the cold.'  She didn't argue, nor did she pull away when he wrapped an arm around her and they disapparated.  For that matter, she was tempted to throw herself the rest of the way into his arms and snuggle down, but the trip was too quick.  When they reappeared, he led her along another craggy stretch of beach and she was forced to content herself with holding onto his hand for dear life, almost as if she thought she'd be left behind if she let go. 

She thought the tiny cottage on the horizon was their destination but when they entered, an old man was sitting at the table.  He had that blank look that suggested he'd been imperiused.  Iza didn't question it: she assumed he had.  Since he seemed likely to be straight Muggle, she shed no tears over it.  Perhaps Iza had changed and found her softer side, but she still believed that Muggles were clearly put on the earth to serve Wizards, even if she didn't necessarily believe they were inferior.  It wasn't that Muggles were innately inferior... it was that Wizards were innately superior, and rank had its privileges.

But the cottage wasn't their destination.   Cináed led her out again, carrying supplies, and summoned a dingy.  Iza eyed it dubiously, but the bottom was dry so surely it wouldn't sink.  He offered his hand to her and she hesitated one last time--not because she doubted him (never!) or doubted his wisdom in agreeing to her companionship (always), but because he mentioned Thursby.

'I don't think you messed things up too much.  I'm sure Thursby will find a way to get her memories back.  If she didn't, she'd probably drive herself mad knowing she couldn't remember something...'  The thought of Thursby going mad made her smirk.  The woman was worse than Rita Skeeter.  Goody-two-shoes-busy-body-nose-in-everyone's-affairs.

Iza took  Cináed's proffered hand and, with great restraint, only closed her fingers over his.  Just that small touch sent electricity coursing up her arm and she wanted to climb into his skin.  At the last moment, she pulled, using the tension of his strong arm to draw herself up close to him, then kissed his neck fleetingly, smelling the salt tang of the ocean mixed with perspiration from their recent misadventure.  (Not fear, only exhilaration, she told herself-- Cináed feared nothing!)  "I care about Thursby's memories only because you do," she murmured, perhaps a trifle cooly.  "But I'm very glad I didn't mess things up too much," and this was said sincerely.  "Maybe there's hope for me, yet."  If the smile that graced her lips as she drew away was a trifle sad, perhaps part of it was because their journey was yet unfinished.  For certain, none of her sadness was for the woman she'd psychically maimed.

The seal barked again and for a moment, irritation flashed across her face.  The old Iza would have petrified it from spite for ruining her moment.  The new Iza just grimaced and sat down on the wooden slat that served as a bench.   Cináed had enough to keep him busy, watching for an ambush.  She wasn't going to screw that up, too... either by encouraging him to dawdle in the open or by creating a noisy, seal-barking road sign that shouted to the Ministry, Psycho-Witch this way!  She abuses sea mammals, too!  Come and get her, boys...!

A sly smirk played across Cinaed's lips, the breath of a kiss against his neck a clear hint of what was to come.  However foolish this decision might be, the potential for companionship made it worthwhile.  He waited until she was settled before tapping the side of the boat with his wand, sending it skimming a decent clip out into open water. 

"Thursby is predictable," Cinaed offered.  She shouldn't just care about Niobe's memories for his sake - Cinaed was convinced that if she better understood the reasonings behind his action, she'd see the bigger picture.  She might even be able to help promote it.  "She likes to play the fearless reporter - willing to write the truth no matter what the price.  She's always had a penchant for trouble.  Always suspect it was to support this addiction to telling The Story."  That was, likely, why she'd sought the company of dangerous ex-cons, Cinaed included, once upon a time.

The boat soon slipped into a dense bank of sea fog that concealed anything further than a few meters in any direction.  "When Thursby regains her memories, she'll remember she'd either be werewolf chow or a werewolf herself if it hadn't been for an unexpected rescuer.  The Ministry keeps painting me as some heartless, pointless killer.  Once Thursby remembers her dramatic rescue, her editorial conscience will feel obligated to reveal that dramatic twist.  A little positive PR certainly won't hurt.  But, welcome to one of my current hideouts: Copinsay Island[1]." 

The shadow of a bare-swept island started to peek through the fog as the boat continued its crossing.  The boat came to a stop along another rocky inlet.  Cinaed climbed out, offered Iza a hand again and led the way up a rocky path towards an old farmhouse.  Over the course of the last two months, Cinaed had spent much of his (ample) free time placing protective and concealing charms on the island and its two buildings: the tall lighthouse on the top of the highest cliff and the two-story farmhouse opposite the lighthouse.  The island was remote, frequently shrouded in sea fog and the northern seas were rough more often than calm.  Apparition on the island was impossible - the only way to the island was by boat.  The Fidelius Charm kept the island, itself, concealed.  The farmhouse, though previously abandoned, was easy to spruce up with magic and was quite comfortable and the lighthouse offered an excellent vantage point for miles around.  It was Cinaed's primary hiding spot though it was far too isolated for a child; Fionn remained at a second location, cared for by an imperioused muggle widow. 

"I would have assumed, since you're just living over in Diagon, that you'd heard all the gossip.  But, I'm not sure my assumption's correct.  As far as the Ministry's concerned, I suspect my being seen with a wand is probably the least of their concerns.  Seeing as how the last time they saw me I was trying to off Raynor with one."  Firewood and supplies in hand, Cinaed cut quickly across the windswept grass, seeking the warmth of the farmhouse.

1.	Copinsay, Scotland

She took the proffered hand and climbed awkwardly from the boat, turning her foot and clinging to him for a split second before recovering and following after him as he made his way to the farmhouse.

"Raynor.  Really?"  She trailed along behind him, admiring the... view.  "Gossip is unreliable.  The Prophet's been quiet."  Well... quiet about  Cináed's involvement, at any rate.  If they had something on him, they were keeping mum about it.  "Should I have read between the lines?" she asked curiously.  She shrugged noncommittally and watched the play of lean muscles across his broad shoulders as he easily hefted firewood and supplies  up a gentle, grassy incline.  "And did you succeed?"

Murder wasn't in Iza's repertoire though she found she didn't mind so much if it was necessary to forward  Cináed's goals.  That was the only thing that hadn't changed about her in the past few months: she still idolized the man with a childlike intensity.  It didn't matter to Iza whether  Cináed's goals were to be a god... or an international porn star.

A shadow passed overhead and she automatically flinched and looked up.  A bird.  Only a bird.  It wheeled twice and then glided away: a dark swallow.  There must be caves in the cliffs on the mainland.

A smirk played across Cinaed's face as he nodded.  "Really," he confirmed as he reached the door of the farmhouse and tugged it open.  The smirk faded, slightly, as he set the bag of food on an old, warn wooden table and dropped the firewood by the hearth. 

Of course, that brief explanation made the whole experience seem much more straightforward than it actually had been.  He wasn't sure what lines she was asking about reading between but chances were slim she could have guessed at the real events.  They confused him, even.  He still couldn't understand what had prompted his mother - his own mother to betray him.  And, apparently, the Ministry was making quite sure he couldn't get to her to ask.  But, perhaps, that whole event had been a mixed blessing - it was better to be reminded that anyone, even blood relatives - even your own mother - could betray you. 

"Naw," he admitted, not bothering to hide his disappointment.  "Brought a burning house down on her-" A slight exaggeration.  Once which completely ignored the fact that it was his house that was brought down on her.  "- but, as I understand, she survived.  Pity.  A bunch of her little minions came to her rescue.  And, I was distracted with getting my son out." 

He spread out the bank of coals in the fireplace and tossed a smaller piece of firewood into the midst of them.  With a steady jet of air from the tip of his wand, the coals sprang to life and flames licked around the edges of the wood. 

"What have you been doing in Diagon?  Is that what you want to be doing?"