The Violet Burning
If I die young, bury me in satin,
Lay me down on a bed of roses....
"....And you and he will have a house in the country with a little garden, four children, two dogs, a cat, and an owl," he finished, giving me one of his goofy, lopsided grins.
I stared at the sheet of numbers in his hand, then back up at his face. I was skeptical, to say the least, but he did weird things like this all the time. I had come to accept it; he like to practice his magic tricks, and he especially liked to practice them on me. I wondered if he had actually taken the time to read the numbers on the page and try to make prophecy from them, or if he had just made it all up on the spot to try and impress me. He always talked about his magic tricks like they were real.
"Toby," I told him sternly, trying not to laugh, "There is no way I'd ever have a pet owl in my house."
We sat cross-legged in the grass, facing each other. I couldn't say these quiet moments were rare; out here, in the country, everything was quiet. Still, these were my favorite moments....even if I wouldn't admit it to him.
His grin didn't fade in the slightest. "Well why not? They're smart animals, Abby, and you need one to deliver your mail - "
"Toby, that's why we have the postal service. This isn't the Middle Ages." He said strange things like that sometimes, too. Usually I could ignore them, but sometimes....they made me uncomfortable. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. This was one of those moments; the bright look in his eyes made it seem like he was being perfectly serious, so I coughed and looked away.
After a few seconds, I looked back at him. I hesitated; it was hard to think of hurting him, but it had to be done. Simple-minded though he was, he had to understand. "Toby, I have to talk to you...."
His grin faltered slightly, but quickly returned in full force - a little too broad to be totally real. I think he was expecting this, because he quickly changed the subject. "Do you remember this place?"
No, he was not getting away with changing the subject. Firmly I tried to steer him back to the topic at hand. "Toby, listen to me - "
He reached out and tenderly brushed a blonde curl from my face, his fingers lingering along my jaw for a few moments before he withdrew his hand. "We met here. Remember?"
I glanced at the river down the hill and snorted, almost laughing as the memory recalled itself without permission. "Yeah, I remember. You were drowning, clumsy boy."
The vivid memory played itself out in my mind. On a summer's day, I saw myself walking back from a swim in our usual spot, when one of the girls pointed downhill and exclaimed, "Hey, why's that boat floating upside down?"
She was blonde. I was blonde too, but that didn't hinder me from coming to a slightly more sensible conclusion. "Either somebody's lost their rowboat, or somebody's - "
With a sudden, frantic splashing, a head broke the surface. "Heeeeeelp!"
"- drowning," I finished. The other girls stood around me, dumbfounded, but I didn't hesitate; I threw down my towel and sprinted down the hillside, ignoring their cries of "Abby! What are you doing?" behind me. There was no time; I was already in the water, diving down, seizing him by the collar and pulling him to the surface with me. With some effort - he was awfully heavy - I managed to haul him to shore. He flopped over in the grass and coughed violently.
"Bloody hell," I muttered under my breath, dropping to my knees. A swift thump to the chest and he coughed up enough water to fill a goldfish bowl.
Relieved, I sat back in the grass and watched him until he recovered enough to open his eyes. He stared at me, and his eyes got very, very round.
"Did I die?" He squinted at me for several seconds, then seemed taken aback. "No....no, angels don't wear bathing suits." Apparently pleased by that conclusion, he relaxed again. "I'm alive!"
"Only because I dragged you out!" I snapped at him. "What were you doing?"
"Catching fi - oh, Merlin!" he exclaimed, shooting upright and feeling around in his pockets.
"Who?" I asked sternly. If I had to go drag someone else out of the river, I would not be happy.
"I lost my wand!" he complained bitterly, staring out at the river as though it had somehow committed a great offense against him.
"Your what?"
He turned, startled, and stared at me as though seeing me clearly for the first time. "You're a....um." He glanced toward the water again and sighed. "I mean, I lost my fishing pole." He looked back at me and gave a sheepish smile. "Thank you for rescuing me, though. I, ah, can't swim."
I noticed as he smiled at me that his grin was strangely lopsided; one side of his mouth quirked up a little higher than the other. I found it strangely endearing, and relaxed slightly. "You're welcome. Next time you get in a boat, though, bring a lifejacket or learn how to swim."
His eyebrows shot up. "A lifejacket? What's that?"
"Ah...."
He seemed to realize he'd made a mistake, and changed the subject quickly. "My name is Tobias Woodstock, but uh, you can just call me Toby. What about you?" he asked eagerly, climbing unsteadily to his feet and holding out a hand to me.
I stared at it for several seconds, arching an eyebrow at him, then took it and let him pull me upright. "Abigail Cleary," I told him. Now that we were both standing, I noticed he was much taller than me, which explained why he had been so heavy. His scruffy brown hair was damp from the river, brown eyes smiling as much as his face. His hand felt rough but strangely gentle in mine, his grip delicate yet calloused - as though he worked with paper quite a bit. And he was dressed like a pilgrim, I thought, amused.
I bet he comes from that strange village over the hill, I realized abruptly. What did they call it? Bogglewood? I'd heard it was a strange, backwards little village, with strange, backwards people. It wasn't even big enough to be called a small town, and people rarely visited there.
"Abigail..." he repeated, as though memorizing it. Eagerly, he asked, "Can I call you Abby?"
"Ah...." I stared at him. Realizing my hand still held his, I withdrew it quickly and glanced around for some kind of excuse to leave him. I felt very uncomfortable, suddenly.
"Abby?"
His voice, real and clear, snapped me back out of my memories. I stared at him in front of me, feeling suddenly very guilt. You've got to make him understand, I told myself firmly.
"Toby, I'm going to school in London soon. I'm going to have to leave." I took his rough hand in mine, watching as his grin faded slowly.
"But you're eighteen, aren't you done with school?" he asked hopefully. I could see it in his eyes; he wanted me to tell him it was a joke, but he knew I wouldn't do that. We'd talked a little bit about it before. He could anticipate what was next.
I shook my head. "No....maybe where you come from you don't understand, but we have something called the university. That's where we go after school, to study and get a career."
He was hurt already. He knew what was coming; I could see it on his face as he looked down at my hand, holding his.
"I'm sorry Toby...."
* * * * * * *
I never expected to see him again after that. I moved into a little flat on the waterfront in London, attending classes at Royal Military School, and for the most part I tried to forget about him. Tobias Woodstock. He was just a boy - a dream, more like it, that never would have happened. I'd known it the whole time, but I'd let the relationship grow deeper anyway, and for that I felt guilty. In the end, I had hurt him because I was too selfish to stop him from falling for me.
He showed up abruptly at my flat one night, midway through my second semester at Royal Military. Oh, and not at the door - no, he showed up at the window.
"Toby!" I snapped at him, unintentionally harsh. I opened the window and he flopped inside, laying on the carpet for several moments. "What are you doing? How did you get up here?" I demanded. My flat was on the third floor, and the fire escape landing was in the other room. People didn't generally walk up to this window to say hello.
"Magic!" He told me infuriatingly. He always used that excuse. "Abby, I got a job here in London!" he told me excitedly. "Isn't this great?"
I stared at him open-mouthed for several seconds. "You - what - you...where?"
"With the paper!"
"What paper?"
"The Daily Prophet!"
I continued to stare at him uncertainly. There wasn't a Daily Prophet in London, which made me suspicious. "The....Daily Prophet," I stated in disbelief.
Abruptly he seized me in a bear hug, arms wrapping around my shoulders. I stiffened at his touch, feeling like I might explode if he held onto me for too long. I'd hardly gotten over him, and now he'd come back? What was he thinking?
"I missed you," he told me warmly, burying his face in my hair. I could feel the brush of whiskers on his chin, from where he must not have shaved in several days.
"Toby, I...." I relaxed in his arms, at a loss for words. If he was telling the truth - and that was a big if - what did I do? Did I have a reason to stay away from him? Some part of me wanted to stay there in his arms, to tell him I was sorry, that we could be together now....but another part of me said no. I was in military school. I didn't have room for a relationship.
He released me and stepped back. "Marry me, Abby."
"What?" No. This was turning into a nightmare. What if he'd actually gone out and bought -
Oh, hell no. From his pocket he produced a little box; I stared at it with dread, knowing what was inside. What did I tell him? This was too fast. Bewildered, thoughts racing chaotically through my mind, I couldn't think of what to say.
He opened it, and inside nested a little silver ring, elegant designs curling around a tiny, bright diamond in the center. "Please, Abby....I know maybe you've moved on, and I know this is really sudden, but don't leave me behind. I don't want to lose you again. Please."
"Toby, I don't know - "
Determined, he snapped the little box shut and pressed it into my hands. "Take it. Think about it. Please?" He glanced toward the open window. I felt the cool breeze gently brush my face, and I turned away from him to hide the tear that suddenly slid down my face.
"Just think about it, Abby. I'll come back tomorrow night, okay?"
I bit my lip shakily, hesitating. I could feel the little velvet box in my hands, warm from sitting in his pocket. His gentle hands in mine, his protective spirit, his goofy, crooked grin...these were the things I remembered loving about him. Everything in me wanted to say yes, but a little voice held me back, whispering that I couldn't do it.
I spun around to face him again, crying out, "Toby!"
He was gone, like a ghost.
Stunned, I stared at the place where he had been, refusing to believe it was empty. But he was gone, before I'd had the chance to tell him yes.
There, in the dark, I clutched the little box to my chest and let the tears run down my face.
"I'm sorry Toby...."
* * * * * * *
He didn't come the next day.
I held out hope for a few weeks that he might return, even while the cynical voice in my head told me that he wouldn't. Eventually, I had to admit that the voice was right; Toby wasn't coming back. Either I'd scared him off, or he'd decided he just didn't want me anymore. Angrily, I shoved the engagement ring in a box and left it in the bottom drawer of my wardrobe, where it collected dust for the next few years. I went to classes, I went through training exercises, and through it all I buried my memories of Tobias Woodstock. For a time, I was angry at him, but eventually that too faded away under the influence of strict discipline. He was nothing to me anymore, and would never be anything to me again. He was just a dream I'd awakened from.
Some time during the summer after I finished school, I moved into a new apartment. The engagement ring went with me, but I spared it hardly a second glance as I shoved it in another drawer and forgot about it again.
A letter came in the mail with his name on it one morning. I stared at it for a long while, then threw it in the trash unopened, put on my uniform, and went to work. No point in stirring up that rat's nest of dead emotions, I decided.
Still, it bothered me more than I cared to admit, which is probably why I was too distracted to notice the man waiting in the shadows by the door to my building.
I was in the military, yes, but with a desk job. Even office workers, though, were lectured to carry their sidearms with them after the rash of murders in London the last few months. Investigation was under way to find the crime ring behind the killings, but until then, we had to be careful on the streets at night.
" 'Ello, luv," a man's voice said as I reached for my keys. I froze and looked up to see him emerging from the shadows of the doorway.
I could feel my heart pounding, my mouth dry, but discipline held me steady. I took a step back and pulled my gun from its holster, aiming squarely at his forehead. There was an audible click as the safety went off.
I noted with some trepidation that he had no weapons in his hands - only a stick, in his right?
"Stay where you are," I ordered him.
He didn't seem particularly deterred by my gun, and kept coming forward. "Nah, why don't ye stay where ye are? An' put that shiny down?"
He lunged at me, then, and I fired. The sound of the gunshot rang across the empty street, but he lifted the stick in his hand and it ricocheted away harmlessly. Momentarily stunned, I couldn't react quickly enough to stop him from getting one thick hand around my wrist, effectively taking control of my gun hand.
"Muggles," he spat. "Yer weapons won't do no good 'ere, luv."
With my free hand, I jabbed my fingers into a nerve point on his wrist. With a yelp, he released me hand, and in one swift maneuver I had him pinned to the ground with the barrel of my pistol pressed firmly into the back of his head.
"I wouldn't be so quick to underestimate a woman, if I were you," I hissed in his ear.
I felt him shaking beneath the pressure of my gun, and after a few moments I realized he was chuckling to himself. Angry, I pushed a little harder. "Stop that!"
"I wouldn't be so quick to assume yer attacker is alone, if I were you, luv," he sneered.
I heard the scuffling behind me an instant before a voice shouted, "Stupefy!" A flash of red light reflected off the pavement. Even as I spun around with my gun to take aim, I saw two figures. One, a man, had an arm outstretched with another of those sticks pointed at the other, a woman, who fell limply to the ground and lay still.
As I stared, trying to fathom what I was seeing, the man I'd managed to pin down threw me forcefully off. I felt myself strike the wall with a painful impact, my head striking the bricks of my own apartment complex with a dull thud. Stars exploded in my vision; I heard someone shout my name.
When I came to my senses, there was another man crouched over me, a calloused hand pressed to my forehead. Long brown hair tied back by a ribbon (save for scruffy bangs that hung in his eyes), brown eyes behind half-moon glasses, and a scruffy brown goatee framing his chin - I didn't recognize him at all. But he wasn't my attacker, and I didn't feel threatened by him, so I relaxed.
"Abby?" he asked me, and I felt something vaguely familiar in the way he said it.
"...Yeah?" I mumbled groggily.
His face split into a broad, lopsided grin, and suddenly I knew.
"Toby." Suddenly I found three years' worth of buried emotions bursting forth inside me. With a sob I flung my arms around his neck, never mind that he'd proposed to me and never come back, never mind that he was a clumsy idiot, never mind that I'd hated him since he'd left.
I felt a drop of rain strike my cheek, and then another on my head; an awful clap of thunder, and it was pouring as it did so often in London. Within moments we were both soaked, but at least it hid my tears. At least he was here, now.
"I'm sorry, Abby," he told me gently. "I wanted to tell you why, but I couldn't contact you. I didn't want to put you in danger. I shouldn't have sent you that letter, either; that's how they found out..."
"Toby, what's going on?" I sobbed into his shoulder.
Carefully he slipped his arms beneath me and lifted me off the sidewalk. He was stronger than I remembered, his arms thicker.
"I'll tell you soon. Hold on tight."
Then without warning, we were falling out of reality. I felt the breath sucked out of me with a woosh, felt myself being compressed into a tiny version of myself and flying in the strangest sensation I'd ever experienced. I could see nothing but a whirlwind of bizarre, incoherent shades of gray.
And then everything snapped back to reality, and I was in his arms again. We weren't standing on the sidewalk any more, though; we were in a tiny room furnished with a bookshelf, an armchair, and a sofa. A fire suddenly roared to life in the hearth of its own accord.
At this point, I remembered to be angry with him. "What just happened?" I snapped, and then a sudden dizzy spell silenced me. I felt him setting me down on the sofa, and then he pulled out one of those sticks and said a few strange words. My eyes must have grown to the size of softballs as the teaset floated into the room and began serving itself.
I sat up and one of the teacups floated into my hands. I stared at it, feeling its warmth, but didn't dare drink it for fear everything - including Toby - would turn out to be a fevered illusion.
"Abby, I...." Toby sighed. "I guess I should start from the beginning."
And he did. He told me everything - about magic, about wizards, about the Ministry of Magic and his job at the Daily Prophet, and about somebody called Voldemort.
I stared at him numbly when he finished, and finally ventured to ask, "So.....you're a wizard."
"I know it sounds insane, but I'm not lying, Abby," he pleaded with me.
Really, he didn't need to be so nervous about it; it was hard to believe, yes, but I'd already seen the proof. I had to accept it. "That....explains a lot of things," I stammered. "And so those fellows....Death Eaters? They came after me because of my connection to you, because you work for the Daily Prophet and they're trying to control what you write in the paper."
He nodded. "They found out because I sent you that letter, to explain why I never came back....I thought by using the Muggle Post....but no. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. That's why I didn't come back, why I never contacted you. I'm sorry Abby. Please....believe me. Trust me."
I stared at him, and my mind went back to the night when he'd appeared in my window and proposed to me. I'd all but turned him down, then, refused to trust him with my heart. Even if he hadn't shown it, it had probably hurt him. Why did I turn him down? Because I believed it wouldn't work out? Why not believe him?
"....I believe you, Toby. It's just a lot to take in."
He stood and came to me then, clasping his hands around mine. "Just go to sleep for now, then, and we can talk more in the morning."
I lay down on the sofa, too tired to protest, and he brought a blanket to cover me. I fell asleep almost immediately, feeling somehow reassured by the fact that he was there even though he hadn't been there for years and I'd grown accustomed to fending for myself.
He wasn't there when I woke up the next morning to sunlight shining through the nearby window. I sat up and looked around, but Toby didn't show himself. My heart sank in fear. Where had he gone?
"Abby," his voice said in my ear. Startled, I turned to see him leaning over the back of the couch, smiling at me in that same goofy, crooked way - but there was something more certain in it now. He was a man with a crooked smile now, not a boy.
He set a newspaper down next to me on the couch, and I watched the moving pictures on the front page with astonishment for several moments. Voldemort is dead! read the triumphant headline.
"Last night..." he began, choosing his words carefully, "A child killed the Dark Lord. He's gone. The Death Eaters are scattered, their power broken."
I stared at him for several moments, not sure where he was going. Then he produced the little velvet box. I felt myself draw a sharp breath, and looked up at him expectantly.
"How did you get that?"
Mischief danced in his eyes. "Magic," he told me vaguely, waving his other hand nonchalantly. Abruptly he vanished from my sight and reappeared in front of the couch, startling me. He settled on one knee and flipped open the box, revealing the silver ring just as I remembered it.
"Marry me, Abby?"
I stared at the ring for several seconds, then lifted my eyes to his face, his crooked smile. I couldn't help but smile back at him; I made the decision in a split second, no hesitation this time.
"Of course, you big oaf," I told him, and promptly seized him by the collar to pull him into a kiss.
....Sink me in the river at dawn,
Send me away with the words of a love song.
Send me away with the words of a love song.
