Retreats and Advances

[Keevan White]

It was almost perfect. The summer sun had peaked in the clear blue sky, its light and warmth shining relentlessly over the New Zealand countryside. Fields of crops and wild flowers bloomed in the heat, unsettled only occasionally by a peaceful breeze. The White Manor, however, was beginning to look a little bedraggled. A row of once perfectly trimmed shrubs now splayed their twigs at awkward angles, and a bed of purple lupins were beginning to wilt in the mid day sun. With just one glance, even the most brainless of men could have seen that the gardener was slacking. Keevan White, who regarded himself as a little more intelligent than that, was already well aware of the situation, but was reminded once more as he trekked down the driveway toward the manor. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Gregory in at least three days.

The last month had flown by. Much to the dismay of his employees, Keevan's business was back on legitimate terms. He had finally scraped up enough money to pay his dues to St Mungos, along with a little extra for the inconvenience. This decision had caused a ruckus among his colleagues. Keevan had certainly been acting a little out of character with his generous to the hospital, though he refused to justify his actions to his men. His basis for the amount of money he had given the Wizarding hospital was none of their business, and quite frankly, he wasn't concerned by their opinions. Still, he couldn't help but notice a sadness settling in his throat at the thought of Gregory leaving. Perhaps that was why he hadn't disturbed the man yet, despite noticing his absence around the gardens. To engage in any sort of conversation with the man would have meant admitting that the conflict had been resolved, and that he was free to go. Even so, the garden predicament was getting ridiculous. After all, Gregory was still being paid to work there.

As he reached the kitchen, Keevan poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, steeling his nerves for the task ahead. Why was he so jittery? What was he going to say? With one swift movement, Keevan downed his drink and headed up the grand marble staircase to the employee's quarters. The less he thought about it, the easier it was going to be. Checking that there was nobody else in the vicinity, he knocked three times on Gregory's door. A few seconds passed, but there was no answer. Panic began to fill him as he began toying with the possibility that he had escaped. What was he going to do? Gregory hadn't yet been made aware of the correction to St Mungo's stock. If he had run away, he would be likely to tell his Father all about Keevan's sticky fingers. Nerves quickly overtook him, and he pushed open Gregory's door in a rush. Relief came flooding in as he found the gardener, although his state left a lot to be desired. "Get up," Keevan barked, picking Greg's shoes up off the floor and dropping them onto the sleepy mound. "We're going outside."

 

[Gregory White]

Gregory did jump when Keevan dropped his shoes onto him. He'd heard the knock, but it was if it had come from far away, underwater. He hadn't rolled over in several hours, and his entire body ached with stagnation. What on Earth was his employer doing in his room, or in the employee quarters, for that matter? It probably had something to do with the fact that the gardens were likely a mess by now, but thinking about that fact made it seem like a documentary from someone else's life. Greg felt detached and foggy, and he closed his eyes and squeezed himself into a smaller ball.
"Please leave me be," he mumbled. The shoes had rolled off of him and he could no longer feel their weight. It might have been a dream, after all. Was he talking to himself?

Gregory couldn't remember when he'd started to feel this way. It was an insidious, crawling feeling of despair that came from no event that he could recall. Everything had been the same. Water this, prune that, fertilise this, weed that. Tea with Regius, books with Lucan and pointedly-not-looking-at Keevan. Then the days started to slow; he was so tired. He would get up an hour later, then promise himself that he'd work an hour later that night. When did he stop getting up at all? When did he stop feeling lonely and start feeling ... nothing?

Gregory blinked slowly, then lifted his aching head out from under the bedcovers. His hazel eyes blinked muzzily at Keevan.

"Is something happening?"

His hair was lank and greasy, his eyes crusted with sleep. Gregory felt his stomach complain, and he furrowed his brow at it. Was he hungry? Didn't he eat not long ago? The slowly shifting world came into focus the longer he stared at Keevan. Suddenly, he was assailed by the feeling of want. Looking at Keevan made him feel something, and it was like being doused in icy water. Gregory blinked a bit harder. "What are you doing here?" he asked the other man.​

 

[Keevan White]

How long the cream curtains had been closed for, Keevan could not be sure, but as he pulled them open, a light shower of dust took to the air. At once, a blindingly bright light pierced into the room, its warmth amplified by the huge pane of glass before him. Keevan stepped back, grimacing as he narrowly avoided inhaling a lungful of dust. Behind him, a thud indicated that Gregory's shoes had rolled off and made contact with the floor - something Keevan only wanted them to do after Greg's feet were in them. He turned, the sight of Greg stirring something in his chest. Quickly, Keevan took pity on the man and closed the curtains again. How had he gotten into such a state? Admittedly, their situation wasn't ideal, but Gregory was clothed, fed, and had a roof over his head. Wasn't that was enough to make anyone happy? Keevan sighed, staring at the dishevelled man for a few moments as he considered what to do. What was he doing here? Well, he certainly needed to talk to Gregory about the state of the gardens, along with informing him of the amendment of his business, but this was a menial task that he could easily have asked Regius to take care of for him. Which brought him straight back to the question - what was he doing here?

Just as the silence started to become awkward, Keevan's tongue began to work again. "Like I said, we're going outside. There are matters we need to discuss." This much was true. Despite fixing his business, the two men were still in a particularly sticky situation. Past crimes were still reportable, and Gregory was still an unregistered animagus. One wrong move or slip of the tongue could have seen both men sent straight to Azkaban. It was like Gregory had said before - they might even have shared a cell. As the man emerged sleepily from underneath his duvet, Keevan headedly hurriedly for the door. "I'll be back in five minutes. You'd better be up by then," Keevan lifted a finger to point sternly at Greg before he exited, closing the door behind him.

A few moments later, Keevan returned, his arms laden with toast and orange juice on a silver breakfast tray. In the kitchen, questions had been asked - and ignored. It was not, after all, Keevan White's job to provide room service to employees. Still, it was the least he could do for Greg. They needed to be on friendly terms if they were to come to an agreement, and Keevan had not been the most hospitable of house owners since this mess had begun. Letting himself in, Keevan suddenly began to flush, both embarrassed and irritated at himself. What was he doing? He was making a fool of himself, that was what. He placed the tray down on a side table a little more forcefully than he needed to, the crockery clattering on impact. "Eat," He instructed, heading back over to the curtains and yanking them open, this time with no consideration for Greg's tired eyes.

 

[Gregory White]

The animagus only stared through Keevan's words, his brow furrowed with confusion. None of this made any sense. Yes, he'd been marinating under the duvet for days now, but why had his employer's employer even noticed his absence, let alone bothered to come up to his room? Whatever the problem was, he'd instilled upon Greg a sense of urgency, and the gardener rolled unsteadily to his feet and stumbled into the ensuite to shower. He did so mechanically, but his awareness was growing as though he was waking from a dream. He was just exiting the bathroom in naught but a towel around his waist when Keevan returned with food.

The sight of the handsome, stern-faced man carrying a wobbling silver tray laden with breakfast foods made Gregory's mouth open slightly. He was told to eat and he did, swallowing toast in slow bites that tasted like sawdust in his mouth. It felt like forever before the plate was cleared and he stared into the crumbs, filled with apprehension. Now what? Clothes, walking, outside? What did Keevan want from him?

"What sort of matters need me to be to be in the garden in order for them to be discussed?" said Gregory, clearing his throat from disuse. He looked up (and up) at the taller man, looking very lost.​

 

[Keevan White]

A little air escaped Keevan's lungs involuntarily as he turned to face Gregory. The embarrassment he was feeling over bringing Greg breakfast was only escalated by what he saw in front of him. He cleared his throat, peeling his eyes away from the man after only a slight hesitation. A little confused, Keevan opened a wardrobe and pulled out a few clothes, tossing them in the general direction of Greg's unmade bed. He was caught off guard by his next question, and began awkwardly folding shirts as he decided how to respond. Keevan had seen it too many times before. For ten years after the fire, he and his brothers had lived together in a small house in Ireland, scraping by on whatever Keevan made at his mediocre job. Lucan had been so disturbed by the traumatic events that he couldn't bare to leave the house, whilst Regius would lay in bed, lifeless and limp, allowing days to merge into months in the blink of an eye. Both of his brothers had lost all sense of purpose and time, and the responsibility had fallen onto Keevan's shoulders to be the strong one.

Keevan turned away to stare out at the gardens, allowing Gregory to get dressed behind him. Of course, he could've simply spoken to him in the bedroom, but the air was thick with misery. Outside, the sun was shining merrily over the grounds, bringing cheer to everyone it cast its rays over. If there was one thing Keevan had learned from living with his siblings, it was that fresh air and sunshine were the best cures for depression. He'd seen that mechanical, zombie like expression on Regius' face too many times to allow Gregory to submit himself to the same self torture.

"You shouldn't question figures of authority, Gregory. Need I remind you that this is my house, and you are my employee?" Keevan spoke slowly, ignoring the fact that the man behind him had just as much power to manipulate him as he did. A few seconds passed before the man decided to elaborate anyway. "Besides, I have something to show you. Now, quit asking questions and get dressed," Keevan snapped, holding his hands behind his back as he continued to stare out of the window.

 

[Gregory White]

Gregory did not miss Keevan's discomfiture at his state of undress, and he felt the need to apologise. That need irritated him. As days passed in the manor and with further interaction with his employer's brothers, he felt a measure of empathy towards him that was both unwelcome and uncomfortable. He knew very little about Decado Pharmaceutical's state of affairs, and as time passed he'd ceased caring, yet Gregory was unwillingly energised by food and conversation and began to wonder again whether or not Keevan was 'fixing' the business's problems. Until Greg had arrived, they probably weren't problems to him at all, but their new gardener had made it a problem and was determined to use what knowledge he had to force Keevan to legitimise his affairs.

The animagus dressed slowly with Keevan's gaze turned towards the window, too wrapped up in thought to be kind enough to hurry. He dressed in plain blue trousers and a cotton shirt, throwing some work robes over the top of them with the sleeves rolled up. If they were going outside, Gregory reasoned, he'd be forced to account for the state of the gardens, and the grounds were in proximity to the magical weystones that powered the wards and other house functions. The plants had a tendency to overgrow and produce blooms and fruits not related to their genus.

It was rather rich of Keevan to flaunt his 'authority' in Gregory's face. The man was a contradiction. He was clearly just as vulnerable to his gardener as Greg was to him, but he insisted on having the upper hand in every conversation, if at least only verbally. Greg did not scare easily and was never impressed, but quietly allowed his posturing as it kept the peace well enough. The peace did not seem destined to last since his employer had troubled himself to intrude upon his solitude.
Gregory placed his hand briefly upon Keevan's shoulder to indicate that he could turn around, and stepped back to await the verdict.
"Well, then. What is so important that you need to take me to the gardens to see it?" said Greg affably. "Do I need to stun another strangle vine?" he added with slight sarcasm. He extended his hand to the door, inviting them to begin their walk.​

 

[Keevan White]

A feeling of uneasiness came over Keevan as he heard a slow shuffling behind him, indicating that Gregory was dressing. Had he been aware that his gardener was sporting only a white towel, draped over his hips, he would have been a little more hesitant with his abrupt entry. Still, now that he was here, leaving would have only meant admitting his discomfort, and Keevan was not one for showing emotion. The silence between them did not feel awkward; in fact, Keevan appreciated not having to make conversation with a half naked man. He dragged a fingernail across his chin, his anxiety growing steadily with the realisation that he was completely unprepared for the conversation ahead. There really wasn't much to say - St Mungos was happy, Keevan had reimbursed them and the company was on legitimate terms again. Explaining this would surely take less than five minutes. What else were they going to fill the time with as they roamed the gardens?

No sooner had Keevan pulled himself together than he felt a hand placed upon his shoulder. He jumped, startled at the sudden contact. The man had been so deep in thought that the sound of Gregory approaching had not even registered in his mind. Frowning, he turned to look down at his employee. Quite frankly, he wasn't happy with the friendly shoulder touching. The men were on neutral terms. They weren't supposed to be buddying up. He also wasn't entirely comfortable with having doors held open for him by a mere gardener, so he allowed Gregory to leave the room before holding the door open for himself. "Why don't you just wait and see?" Keevan dismissed Greg's question, leading him through the manor to the back porch. Once outside, they strolled across the vast lawn to what appeared to be a fairly ordinary, seven foot high stone wall.

"I'm afraid my brother was not entirely truthful when he informed you of the garden's layout," Keevan said, smiling knowingly. The house, along with its gardens, had been built by wizards, for wizards. How could have possibly declined the offer of having a secret garden installed into the property? His excitement brewing, Keevan withdraw his wand. With a few well placed taps, the stone wall began to morph, slowly revealing itself to be hiding a green, wooden door. Pocketing his wand, Keevan grasped the handle and pushed open the door, allowing Greg to follow. As they entered, the door disappeared behind them, dissolving into stone. "This garden is completely hidden from all eyes," Keevan explained, studying Gregory's face nervously for a reaction. The garden was picturesque - rows and rows of vividly coloured plants bloomed across the walls, and the hanging fronds of willow trees cast a slight shade over a grassy bank. Beside this, a crystal clear pond twinkled in the sunlight. "It was built for Lucan, but I thought you might appreciate some time.. Out of view," Keevan suggested, by this point so nervous that his voice wavered. He could only imagine what it was like for a lion animagus to be cooped up in his bedroom for so long. His consideration for Gregory's feelings worried him greatly, but if worst came to worst, he could always claim that the garden had simply been the best place for them to talk about the business without being overhead.

 

[Gregory White]

The animagus merely shook his head slightly and smiled as Keevan reasserted himself. The other wizard did not step over the threshold until Gregory gave in and walked through the door first, which made him want to throw his hands up in eschewal. Something so simple as manners caused his employer to get his back up. Greg was not impressed by these displays but found them almost endearing, if not a little bit frustrating. His own good humour kept the entire situation from unraveling; he was sure that anyone else trapped here would have ended up resorting to fisticuffs to cleanse the annoying habits.

He followed obediently until they passed by the center of the grounds, and he opened his mouth to try and sate his curiosity. Greg closed it quickly enough when Keevan took out his wand to reveal the hidden door drenched by spells that was built into the furthest garden wall. He remained silent until the secret garden was fully revealed after which he let out a truly involuntary gasp. Questions rippled through his mind like the waters of the pond. Who took care of this secluded paradise? Why had Keevan taken him here? Did it have anything to do with Gregory's own secret?
Supposedly, it was. Gregory turned his honey-brown eyes on the tall wizard with more than astonishment; it was gratitude. Anything he'd thought to say was dying in his throat. Without thought to Keevan's nerves, the animagus exploded into white fur and his paws hit the ground like thundering hooves.

From that moment he was lost in his long neglected instincts. One month was the longest he'd ever spent without once breathing the New Zealand air through colossal lungs. The white lion gambled every which way, not knowing where to turn first. He chased a butterfly- he gnawed on a tree stump. Greg chased an terrified rabbit until it disappeared between the willow tendrils and escaped his claws, which he then turned upon the tree. In the lion's excitement, he trampled many blooms and rent the grass beneath the saucer-sized paws. So many smells, so many games to play ...
Gregory As Lion did several laps of the garden in quick succession, and on the third round he bumped into the backs of Keevan's knees, sending him rolling into the trampled grass. The lion immediately butted his head against the human's shoulders and waist, scent-marking him with the glands either side of its mouth. Gregory recalled enough, in his ecstatic joy, to be pleased with this person. He marked him and so called him 'mine'. This one was good. This one gave him a most precious gift.

Gregory finally stopped gallivanting over forty-five minutes later, and this was only because he'd thrown himself into the pond and discovered a few errant grindylows. The lion shook his fur out, and then Greg was shaking his hair out, hands and knees in the pebbles beside the pond. He'd kept his employer waiting quite long enough.
He began to drag his wet robe behind him, which didn't make it through the transformation despite becoming a part of him. The work robes he was using hadn't been made for that kind of magical abuse, only physical. Everything else held up well enough, apart from his being sodden. Gregory squelched as he walked, rather sheepishly, back to Keevan and rung the robe a little behind his back.

"Mm ... sorry to make you wait. You wanted to talk to me about something?"​

 

[Keevan White]

Keevan's sentence had barely left his mouth before the man beside him had transformed into a (sickeningly familiar) colossal white beast. As the lion bounded around the garden, chasing small animals and exploring every inch of the flowerbeds, Keevan could not help but smile. This was a rarity - Keevan's smiles were most often sly and sarcastic. For his mouth to be upturned in joy was almost unheard of, let alone ever seen. After a moment, he allowed his face to return to its usual, relaxed state. His happiness was primarily felt on the inside, where nobody could see it. The lion began running laps of the garden, which Keevan's eyes followed intently. He wasn't sure of the animagus's capabilities, but he still didn't trust Gregory not to make a break for freedom. Just as Keevan was beginning to note his discomfort, trapped in a small enclosure with a gigantic lion, a powerful force hit him from behind. Unable to react quickly enough, Keevan promptly found himself sprawled across the grass, his ribs complaining painfully from the impact.

The seconds that followed were perhaps the most uncomfortable moments of Keevan's life. His body froze in fear as the lion rubbed his muzzle across his back. Gregory may have been in his lion form, but friendly physical contact was still completely out of bounds. Not to mention, Gregory had clearly forgotten how absolutely terrifying he was to humans in his lion form. After what seemed like an eternity, the lion finally bounded off again, allowing Keevan to pick himself wearily up off the ground. He sighed, making his way over to a bench to sit down and wait for the lion to stop playing. Normally, he would have been furious at being knocked over and head butted, but for some reason he simply couldn't bring himself to feel angry. Perhaps it was the sheer joy with which the lion was galloping around the garden that subdued something within him. Either way, he didn't like it, and was more than relieved when a sopping wet Gregory approached him in human form.

Keevan withdrew his wand, hoping that Gregory would allow him to point it at him without fear. "Tergeo," He said, siphoning the water from Gregory's robes before sliding it back into his pocket. "That's quite all right," Keevan said flatly, motioning to the space on the bench beside him. Thankfully, there was plenty of room for the men to sit a reasonable distance away from each other. "Yes, it's.. It's about Decado." There was pain in Keevan's voice, though it was subtle and difficult to decipher. "We've corrected the shipments to St Mungos, and compensated for their troubles. Your Father will be pleased, I expect," He said dryly, staring out at the trampled flowerbeds with a blank expression. Why did he care so much? Why did he resent Gregory's Father? Keevan couldn't fathom an explanation for his feelings, and so instead continued to stare straight ahead, waiting for the excited reply which would undoubtedly follow.

 

[Gregory White]

When Keevan's wand turned on him, Gregory withdrew minutely and inhaled, preparing to fight or flee. The two men had few moments bordering on acceptance and more that set his teeth on edge. There was a constant tension between them that made Keevan's proximity uncomfortable. There was no helping it, he supposed. Secrets and fear had dominated their first true meeting, which hardly made for a relationship of trust.
Despite being startled, he was not surprised when pond water flew off of him in all directions. It was a curious mix of feelings, being both afraid and unafraid at once. After all, had Keevan ever hurt him? Today, he had gotten him out of bed (so to speak), served him breakfast and allowed him the freedom of his animagus form. If anything, he was to be thanked.

"It's about Decado."

Gregory's stomach dropped and he nodded, seating himself on the bench with an appropriate distance between them. Propriety mattered to the White patriarch, who lost his cool with Greg at the slightest physical touch. The eldest Yearling came from a large family and knew that he could be overly affectionate; Keevan seemed to come the generation that held conversation with strict decorum, Gregory surmised.
He listened to Keevan's summary of Decado's affairs with a growing apprehension. He couldn't name the reason why, since it appeared that the other man was handing him his dreams on a platter, but the issue made itself clear with the final sentence.

"What ... what has this got to do with my father?" said Gregory slowly, turning to look hard at Keevan. He fought to control his temper. Had he dragged himself out of isolation only to be threatened again? "I never said anything about him." He grit his teeth, pushing his damp curls back with one hand. So Keevan knew that it was his father who had sent him here. Greg had used a different surname, but he hadn't expected to be in proximity to the Whites long enough for them to bother checking his background. If they'd been given 'Blackmoore', then they'd made the leap from his mother, Beatrice, to Gregory Senior, which was terrible, terrible news. It didn't matter whether or not Keevan had lied about legitimising his business, he knew too much.

Greg stood abruptly and turned, backing away into an azalea bush. The distance was more for Keevan's sake than his own; Gregory As Lion would only make the situation worse. He began to pace, swooping back and forth between crushed flowers to try and regain control of himself.
"I can't take this." he said, struggling to keep a level tone. "You just had to go sticking your nose in further, didn't you, Keevan?". Both hands came up to rub at his forehead. "How can we reach an agreement, even if you did sort out those despicable contracts? I'm not really safe here at all, am I?" Gregory whirled around to face Keevan. "I can't stay here anymore, my family-"

His entire month had been a riot of more emotion than he'd felt in over ten years. Gregory Yearling Jr was a calm and even-tempered man. What he was experiencing currently was the beginnings of a panic attack that could have him bursting through the exit at any moment. The sunlight had done well for him, but the fear of his isolation and loneliness didn't drift away in the Summer breeze. He paced like a trapped lion, desperate for reassurance and for freedom.​

 

[Keevan White]

The realisation hit Keevan like a bullet. He had made a terrible, terrible mistake in allowing his guard to drop. No, come to think of it, this entire situation was one huge mistake. Why had he taken the liberty of informing Greg of Decado's resolution himself? Why hadn't he asked Regius to do it? And more worryingly, what sort of mental disorder had befallen him to make him think this garden visit was a good idea? He should have just let the man stew in his misery until the time had come for him to leave. At that moment, Keevan vowed that he would never allow his emotions dictate his actions again. Yes, that was the last time he was ever going to be caught doing a good deed. In fact, Keevan could hardly wait to resume business with McCarrick the moment Gregory left the premises.

Keevan clenched his jaw, not trusting himself to speak as Gregory began to pace before him. How dare he? Surely it was obvious that Keevan had a strong aversion to angry lion animagi. Pacing around like he was stalking his prey only added insult to injury. Pushing his fear aside, Keevan felt a familiar fury broiling inside him. There was something about that man that rubbed him up the wrong way, and he was about to explode. Keevan rose slowly from the bench, his face thunderous. "H.. How dare you?" The fear of Gregory attacking him was not enough to hold Keevan back. There was no way he could allow this man to speak to him like that. Not even the threat of being ripped to shreds could have tamed his fiery wrath. "You come into my house, spy on my men, threaten to make a complete disgrace of Decado's name, and then expect me to sit back and relax while you stroll around my house anonymously? I had to find out who you were to protect myself!" Keevan spat as he spoke, his voice raising with every word. "I know who you are and where you come from, Yearling. If I wanted you and your Father dead, I'd have seen to it weeks ago!" He roared, feeling rather fortunate that they were out of earshot in the private garden. "But I don't, and I haven't! Do you really believe I want to hurt you, Gregory?"

When at last he had finished, Keevan stood shakily on the trampled grass. He was breathless, and a piercing pain in his chest forced him to calm down. He took several deep breaths, steadying his temper. More than anything, he wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Upon realising they were clenched, he relaxed his fists, dropping his gaze to Gregory's feet. The anger that had consumed him just seconds ago was fading as quickly as his dignity.

 

[Gregory White]

So many words threatened to explode from his mouth the moment Keevan began shouting his grievances to Gregory. How could he use his surname and yet tell him that he wasn't in danger in the one sentence? His urge to flee was being challenged by his fury. Keevan stood while he was shouting and Gregory took another step back and ceased pacing. The other wizard's anger was a force of nature. At the end of his alarming tirade he seemed to deflate, and they stood in mutual silence, punctured only by a gentle breeze that made the sweat on Gregory's brow go cold.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," said Greg quietly. "We are insulting and threatening each other in the same breath as trying to reassure one another." He brought his hand up to rub at his temple. "I can't stay here ... but I can't leave, not until we establish some measure of trust."

There lay the real conundrum between the two men. They were both being truthful, but neither trusted the other's intent, when they had nothing to verify their claims. No, Keevan hadn't hurt him, or at least no more than Gregory had, initially. He'd been a surprisingly genial host, and Gregory thought fondly of his brothers. He couldn't say, in all fairness, that he approved of being investigated, but could he blame his employer? Greg became cross with himself for empathising with the man. If he hadn't been scamming St. Mungos, and if he hadn't dealt with the shadiest businessmen in New Zealand- if he hadn't ... this was useless.

Gregory ran his hands down his face and rested his lips on the tips of his fingers, like a prayer.
"Keevan," he said, closing his eyes. "This cannot continue." He bit his thumbnail, looking for a moment exactly like his father. "I ... have to thank you for showing me the garden. It's wonderful here, but it's not enough to shake this misery from me. If you did show me proof of Decado's dealings being legitimised, what's to say that it won't ... fall into illicit affairs again?" He quelled further protest with an upturned hand. "I couldn't come back to try to make it right, not with what you know about me hanging over my head." Gregory sighed.
The breeze blew again, carrying with it a thought that made his eyes narrow. There was a solution, somewhere in the mess of issues that they'd both carried in with them. He was an old Gryffindor and often lived as a real, breathing lion. Was he brave enough to suggest it?

"Keevan, there might be a way ..."​

---

Finis​