He froze in place, one hand on her waist and one still holding the handkerchief to her cheek, the words the one who attacked us at the Minister's ball stuck on his head in a loop. At first he didn't understand; unless he'd been that drunk, he didn't remember Yaxley being there.... unless. He visibly cringed, his eyes squeezing shut and his forehead lining with wrinkles, as the reality set in: the girl he'd danced with, the girl he'd practically tried to seduce, was Yaxley. He didn't know how to explain himself. It was so long in the past, and she hadn't hated him for i—obviously, given that the last time they'd been together she'd had her lips on his and her fingers threaded in his hair. His heart jumped at the memory.
He decided not to acknowledge that he'd heard any of that at all, focusing on what she'd said last.
"You're telling me that, in the middle of the night, you decided to track down some... some criminal?" And on her own no less! His expression flitted between anger and shock as he stared at her. He'd told her to be safe. He hadn't found the courage over the last month to reach out to her, but she'd promised to take a hiatus. Every morning he'd read the paper, scanning the Crime & Politics section for her name, and he hadn't seen anything—a sign that she was alive and staying out of trouble at work. But now she'd gone and done this!?
He scanned the letter, but passed it back a moment later, his mind in no state to try to decode the numbers strung across the page.
"You said something about a body. Is it...? Walter?" He hoped it wasn't Walter. Or maybe he did—better a criminal dead than a helpless bystander. No, his real fear was something else entirely: that Yaxley had done the killing.
He decided not to acknowledge that he'd heard any of that at all, focusing on what she'd said last.
"You're telling me that, in the middle of the night, you decided to track down some... some criminal?" And on her own no less! His expression flitted between anger and shock as he stared at her. He'd told her to be safe. He hadn't found the courage over the last month to reach out to her, but she'd promised to take a hiatus. Every morning he'd read the paper, scanning the Crime & Politics section for her name, and he hadn't seen anything—a sign that she was alive and staying out of trouble at work. But now she'd gone and done this!?
He scanned the letter, but passed it back a moment later, his mind in no state to try to decode the numbers strung across the page.
"You said something about a body. Is it...? Walter?" He hoped it wasn't Walter. Or maybe he did—better a criminal dead than a helpless bystander. No, his real fear was something else entirely: that Yaxley had done the killing.
set by lady <3