Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

By The Light	By : lycanthrope Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 17685 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: All of the characters portrayed in this fic (apart from Jamie.) and all other creations existing within the world Of Harry Potter are the creative genius of J.K Rowling, I make no profit from the writing or posting of this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
Chapter 27

Resting my elbow against the highly varnished desk, I curl my hand into a very loose fist and rest my lips against it in thought. I can still hear Dale meandering his way through the ground floor, after the third time I heard a loud crash from the vicinity of the kitchen along with a muttered curse I learned to only roll my eyes at his clumsiness.

He may psychically look like the wayward brother that stormed out of our family home so many years ago but his actions are far removed from how I remember him. Gone is his constant agitation and anger, replaced with an untameable excitement that he is either completely unable or disinclined to hide. Something within his life must have changed him to such a degree, something monumental but what?

'You worry too much.' Ammy's voice thunders through my head but her sudden entrance into my thoughts in this instance does not startle me, as is the usual reaction.

Instead I close my eyes against the annoyance, too relaxed and tried to fight against her. “I wondered when you'd show up again.” I calmly mumble against my bent knuckles.

The laugh that rumbles through my head tells me she is amused by my frustration but somehow she makes the sound soothing, not a single tone of mocking can be detected. 'I assure you human, I have not left.'

Removing my thumb from under my chin I rest my hand and the length of my forearm against the table top. Glad that at least on this occasion she is content to converse without provoking a confrontation. “I know, I can feel you.” Every moment of every day as she gazes wide eyed at the world outside.

Without really meaning to, I fall silent. Contemplating my ambivalence to my eldest sibling’s behaviour. I cannot decide if I am joyous for the differences in him or not. Not needing to constantly keep my gaze upon him for any signs of a drastic change in his mood, that could potentially throw him into a rage, or if I am quietly terrified of this sense of security that has, over the space of a single hour, descended upon me.

'I rarely feel your thoughts so deep.' Ammy says.

On many occasions over the past weeks she has approached me but in the past whenever I have fallen into silence so has she. Somehow knowing the conversation is at an end, perceiving that any further communication will not be reciprocated. Yet today she has broken that trend, started to speak long after the quiet has resumed. “I asked you to stay out of my thoughts.” I say, still keeping calm not only in my voice but I have yet to feel the tension of frustration tightening my shoulder blades.

'A task that would be much easier if they were not so abundant.' She is soundless for a moment, waiting for me to speak until she must realize that I have nothing to say. 'What troubles you so?'

I frown at her question, she knows I rarely discuss such things and I have only once heard her try to pry them from me and yet right now, at the very moment I feel I need to communicate with someone, is the time she chooses to pry into my inner most emotions. “I'm not certain.” I answer her, drawing on as much honesty as I can muster. “No that's not... Well I suppose it's almost true.” I drop my forehead into my open hand pushing the pads of my fingers and thumb into each temple. “He is just not what I expected.”

I feel her confusion ripple along my cheeks. 'Are his actions not favourable to your predictions?'

“Yes.” I answer slowly, not completely certain where this line of questioning will lead and finding myself uncaring as to the destination. “And no.” Leaning my head back in the seat with a long sigh I stretch out my legs in front of me, crossing them at the ankle. Letting my calves periodically clench, so my weight it shifted around my heel and the chair swivels in an arc ever so slightly, drawing comfort from the strange motion. “At least if it had been painful I would have known what to do.”

Something in the noise she makes within my skull gives the impression that if she had a corporal body in this moment she would have tilted her head in interest. 'You possess the skills to face great adversity but not to receive unconditional kindness.'

Now I can feel my anger rise, my shoulders drawing together as they tense and I draw my hands over my belly to bridge my fingers over it. “That almost sounds like a reprimand.” I feel my upper lip curl in a snarl over my words.

'No.' She calmly states, either failing to notice or feigning ignorance at my drastic shift in demeanour. 'Merely an observation. It is a curious though.' She pauses, waiting for some sort of response but only being meet with the steady grinding of my teeth. 'That something that should come so easily is so far beyond your grasp.' Her voice is wistful; contemplative even but the words themselves is all I can focus on.

“Are you trying to irritate me?” Had she been standing in front of me I could almost believe that I would have hexed her nine ways from Sunday but as it stands, all I am able to do is show my discontent with the growl laced within my voice.

'That was not my intention, no.' Her vexation is beginning to show. Neither of us is blessed with an abundance of patience when it comes to communication and somehow we always seem to descend into an argument. A noise that sounds suspiciously akin to a snarl thunders between my ears as she speaks. 'Humans can be so infuriating.'

She leaves me so abruptly and so completely that I have to shake my head slightly against the deafening silence left behind. She has retreated to somewhere within the dark recesses of my mind, leaving behind a void of darkness that I should rejoice over. The feeling of emptiness that settles over me in place of this is unsettling to say the least. The comfort she may provide, as she quietly observes from behind my eyes may be cold but is a comfort none the less. I had not thought myself so dependent on it until it was violently ripped away from me.

Somehow, I have once again sunk into anarchy with what must either be a fragment of my subconscious, scrambling around in my mind and begging for attention. Or the primal part of my being, which should only be able to express itself with a bark or a howl. Neither of which makes me either normal or sane but I find the disruptions completely unavoidable as both of us are trapped within this single body, unable to escape the other. Rubbing, prodding and poking each other until one of us explodes and her being the only one with any viable method of escape gives her the advantage of being able to halt all communications whenever she sees fit. Maddening. Completely and utterly maddening. There is little wonder I fear for my own sanity.

My downward spiral of self-assessment is abruptly cut short by the sound of a car's engine breaking the tree line that surrounds the property. My head turns sharply towards the closed door of the room, my body somehow under the strange notion that, by doing so will amplify the noise reaching my ears. The sound does not grow in volume but the rapid shift in attention sharpens my over sensitive ears. I can pinpoint Dale's location in the kitchen by his shuffling feet so I know he has not left the house. His wife must be home and now I have a whole other set of insecurities to safely conceal behind my mask of impassivity.

The engine abruptly dies and seconds later the hollow sound of the door opening meets my ears, followed almost instantly by tiny running feet across the gravel. They pause and the back door clicks as it opens followed by the excited cry of “Dad!”

“Dad?” I mimic quietly, my eyes widening. Not once in any of our correspondence as Dale even given an inclination that he has fathered a child. My heart thunders in my chest and pounds in my ears, before I even know I am standing and have opened the door. Needing to make sure that I have not misheard.

Dale’s voice assaults my ears the moment my feet touch the landing. “Hey Little Man!” With the door open the sound intensifies to such an extent that I wince against it, needing to be closer to the conversation but having to bring my senses under control in order to endure it. “Where's your Mom?”

“In the car.” The distinctly childish voice stretches out the words as I numbly take a seat on the top most step. “Can I watch TV?”

“What did your mother say?” Dale asks the child, an almost distracted tone to his voice.

“She said: after he had tidied away his train set.” Another voice enters the fray, most certainly female and I can only assume this to be Rachel.

“Awww Mom.” The child whines, in a tone of voice that grates against my ears.

“Aww Mom, nothing. Off you go.” The woman says almost as a command and completely ignores my brother's soft chuckle. The heavy footfalls that follow signal the beginning of a tantrum but the young boy goes to complete his task without any further argument and both adults are quiet until he is out of earshot. “What are you doing?” Rachel asks after I detect her heels carry her across the kitchen.

Dale doesn't answer right away and I rest my elbow against my thigh so I can once more press my lips to the back of my knuckles in thought. I have a nephew. Young yes but old enough to walk and talk and he had not once mentioned it. Why conceal such a thing from me?

“Making dinner.” Dale finally responds once again distracted by something.

“I see. Is that what people are calling this now.” His wife begins to tease. “Should I get your wand or have the paramedics on standby? Chef’s choice.”

“Oh, ha bloody ha.” Dale says. “I know how to cook.” He defends himself only to let out a long breath. “When it says boil for ten minutes...”

“It means in water Dear.” Rachel replies to my brother’s half asked question and by the sounds of it drags a chair from under the table to take a seat.

“I knew that. I was gonna ask if it was ten whole minutes.” I close a single eye in embarrassment on my sibling’s behalf while I try to decide if he is being facetious or not.

“Yes. I'm sure.” She pauses for a moment and I strain my ears to hear any movement from the kitchen, trying to block out all other noises so I can hear every movement, every breath. Wishing I were able to see their actions and body language.

I know that eavesdropping is deceitful but no one has ever accused me of an abundance of honesty and I would truly like to be able to gauge the type of person my sister-in-law is, before I am to meet her for the first time. After all I must somehow convince her to allow a dangerous animal to reside in the same building in which her son rests his head. The unexpected appearance of the child has made it imperative to make a good first impression.

Rachel is the first to speak. “Is she here?” She asks and my ears prick up for a whole new reason. Does she mean me?

“Yeah.” Dale answers. “She's upstairs.” Defiantly me, after running my senses along the two upper floors of the building I confirm that I am the only person up here, so leaning forward on my perch on the top most step I let my eyebrows hood over my eyes and concentrate intently on their exchange.

“How is she?” Rachel's voice is kept even, careful even as to not incite any negative response.

Dale's feet shuffle around the kitchen as he blows air between his pursed lips and making them vibrate. “She's...” He pauses and I hear a second chair drag along the floor. “She's exactly what I expected. So... Bloody...” I can hear him struggling with his words and silently I urge him to continue. Needing to hear how he perceives me and why he sounds so deflated by what he sees. “... Distant. I'm telling you now, that man has a lot to answer for.” Anger threads through his tone and quickly I deduce he must be speaking of our father.

“You used to be like that Sweetheart, remember.” Rachel says gently and once more I hear the click of her heels against the hardwood floor. “Tea?”

“Please.” I hear him exhale another long breath and by the sound of it he must be scrubbing at least one of his hands against his face. “I just thought, hoped that after all these months she'd be alright. Or at least more open. The way she writes about this Hermione I just assumed that things were going well.”

I frown at his observation. Running through the numerous letters I have sent to him. It is rare that I make more than a passing mention of my girlfriend. I had intended it to be that way, not wanting to draw Hermione into the crossfire when it comes to my family. Either I had become lost in the words and revealed much more than I had intended or my sibling is very astute when it comes to reading between the lines.

“And I’m pretty certain she's hoarding food.” Before, I had been mildly worried but now my blood turns to ice in my veins.

Rachel's voice takes on a stern edge. “You didn't check, did you?”

“Oh, by the Gods no!” Dale says, almost affronted before letting out a long breath. “Just the way she was guarding that damned bag.” His wooden chair creaks, indicating that he adjusted his position. “Besides, it's what I used to do.”

It's a split second too late when I hear thundering footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. I hadn't been keeping my ear on the boy's location and somehow even with all the racket he is making he has managed to sneak up on me. He tousles up the steps like a baby centaur and I push against my seat to throw me to my feet, determined to be back in the relative safety of my room before I can be spotted from the second floor. I barely have the time to turn on the spot before I hear his high pitched voice. “Wha are you doin'?”

I betray every lesson, every session of training when met with stressful situations and completely freeze. Young children have never been something I feel very comfortable around, their blind honesty and excessive energy was once something I envied, as I grew it become something almost akin to fear. My body trembles with the tension in my muscles and I turn my head to face the boy. At a guess he can't be a day over five years. His messy brown hear grown to such a length that it touches his eyelids and draws my attention to the curiosity held in those blue depths, holding me in place and almost demanding an answer. “Nothing.” Had he been much older I might have attempted a much more in depth ruse but his age renders any such effort a moot point.

His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow as he studies me. His chubby little hand lifts and his points his index finger in my direction. “Are you my auntie?” He asks with such innocence that it almost makes me want to run screaming from his presence.

In the interests of not frightening the child I remain where I am only turning so I face him and try to bring my quivering muscles under control. He at the very least is aware of my existence, which puts me on the back foot somewhat, not even able to address him by his name. “I suppose so.” I answer slowly hoping it will be enough for the boy to be on his way and presumably return the toy box, which is now resting at his foot to his bedroom.

Instead the biggest of smiles spreads from ear to ear, almost splitting his face in two. In an instant he is running up to meet me, with such speed and force that he quite literally jumps into my arms, his tiny arms wrapping themselves around my neck in a vice like grip as my arms instinctively reach around so he does not fall. What in Hades do I do now? He's speaking in such a garbled mess of words and so loudly in my ear that I cannot even hope to decipher the meaning.

Present me with a snarling, fire breathing dragon and I calmly plot a route to run or fly circles around it. Place me in a dangerous magical duel and I will be able to predict not only my opponent movements but also the spells they are likely to cast. Calm, calculated, collected.

However, when confronted with a single, over excited child and every thought abandons me. Leaving me lost and helpless. Stock still and frozen in terror without a single thought or plan to aid me in this particular plight. I have little choice but to seek outside help.

After adjusting my grip on the boy so my long arm holds him close, under his backside, I reach out and grip the banister in my shaky hand. Altering my stance to look over the child's shoulder so I can see the first step is by no means an easy task, with his tight grip pulling him further up my torso and a seemingly never ending stream of words that exit his mouth does little more than distract me.

After successfully finding the first step without falling down it, I am able to gently amble my way down the three flights to the ground floor and after making as much noise as I am able to alert the two adults to my presence I push the door open into the kitchen.

The conversation had stopped from the moment I set foot on the second floor landing as the boy in my arms is speaking so quickly and so loudly they must have stopped to listen to the commotion. Dale offers me little aid as I try to implore him with my eyes to remove his son from my grasp, only going as far as to bite his lips together to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles judging by the trembling of his shoulders.

Rachel has the decency to at least look mortified at the spectacle but appears affixed to her seat with her eyes opened wide in surprise. “I see you've meet Daniel.”

Slowly I nod, feeling that iron grip tighten around my neck and suddenly it becomes almost difficult to breath. “It would appear so.” I turn my eyes to the woman, hoping that maybe she might take pity on me, for once uncaring to hear the quake of fear threaded throughout my voice.

Somehow within the two heartbeats we have been in the same vicinity she has learned to read my normally inexpressive face and quickly stands, reaching out and coaxing the exited bundle from my grasp. “Sorry about that.” She places the boy on his feet and directs him to what Dale indicated as the living room. “Why don't you go and watch TV Danny.”

There is something about Rachel's voice, a note held within the lyrical sound that threatens to put me at ease long before I am ready to do so. Physically she is stunning. Her golden blond hair, cut to curl around her chin and frame her beautiful, soft features. Even in her high heels she still stands at least half a foot shorter than me but even in her short stature, the shape of her legs give the impression that they should keep going up for miles beneath her knee length black shirt.

I am uncertain if the illusion is cast by the cut of her clothing or the actual shape of her body but her upper body has the shape of a perfect hour glass. Every part of her should set me on edge, knowing that she is good looking enough and aware of it enough to choose the correct cut of clothing to obtain whatever she wishes with the use of her body. However something about that voice, as she calmly speaks to her son, overshadows all of that beauty and has me unwillingly relaxing into it.

He pushes his fist into the air and with a cry of “Yes!” he scampers off but only manages to pass a few feet before he is running back in my direction, making my muscles clench once again preparing for impact. He reaches up towards me wrapping his small, chubby fingers around my thumb and tugging on my limb in a way that strongly reminds me of my younger sibling. “Are you gonna come watch TV?”

“I...” My gaze is drawn back down to our entwined hands. A painful knot of loss lodged deep in my throat. The gesture is innocent and innocuous but reminds me so much of James that it almost knocks me off my feet. I had not known until this very moment quite how much I miss him. Shaking my head to clear the depressing thought I try to focus on the question that has been asked of me. “I'm not even certain what that is.”

I had not thought it physically possible but his entire face drops. “Wha?” He says, his face too lax to be able to pronounce the letter 'T'. “You don't have a TV.” He says very, very slowly. As if such a thing would be incomprehensible.

My lips move to form the word but I hold my breath and study the young child's reaction as I slowly utter. “No.”

Dale's bark of laughter is only brought under control when he presses his fisted hand between his teeth to keep the noise in check. His eyes streaming and his body shuddering with restraint.

Rachel once again jumps to my rescue, bending at the knees and squatting so she draws herself eye level with her son. “Maybe you can show Auntie Jamie later.” I watch as his shocked little face turns towards her and nods rapidly. “That means you have to let go Danny.”

“Oh.” He says, removing his grip from around my shortest digit. “Okay.” He agrees with his mother and wonders off around the far door, disappearing from view.

Dusting off her knees, she stands once again. Reaching out and resting her hand upon my shoulder and I have to do my level best not to finch from the unfamiliar touch. “Sorry about that. He's been very excited to see you.”

“So I see.” I answer trying in vain to slow my racing heartbeat. “I only wish I could say the same.” As I speak I turn my head, sending a pointed look in my brother's direction.

Dale for his part barely even registers any form of regret, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I didn't want to tell you via owl. You know, in case Dad got hold of it.”

He's statement does make sense, it would not be the first time my father had been able to intercept a letter but that does indicate that he is aware of my correspondence with Dale. Another fact I had not been made aware of. I nod curtly in understanding but still showing my ire at being left in the dark with regards to such an important aspect of my brother’s life.

The grip on my shoulder tightens and draws my attention. The soft smile I find gracing my sister-in-law's lips is enough to stun me into silence. Already today I have had to cope with far too many unwanted displayed of affection and hoping I can have this over with as soon as possible, I steel myself for any further form of contact, holding her gaze for what feels like hours so I can see the precise moment I am engulfed but it never comes. With nothing more than another squeeze of my shoulder she turns from me, her heels gently clicking along the wooden flooring back over to the counter top. “Tea or coffee?” Is all that she asks me and I almost wish she had descended into an abundance of physical contact. At least then all I would need to do is grin and bear it.

The tip of my tongue pushes out to moisten parched lips as I silently wonder if she is speaking in either a language or dialect I am not fluent in. Her words were posed as a question, an offering maybe but the actual meaning is lost on me.

The snigger emitting from my brother is of little help. “She wants Tea.” He says over his shoulder before pushing out a chair from under the table with his foot. “Sit down sis. You're making the place look untidy.”

Raising my eyebrow at the new turn of phrase I take the seat that has been offered. More because I feel uncomfortable standing over Dale than taking his comment at face value.

He smiles at me tilting his head to view the rigidity of my back, hooking a thumb nonchalantly over his shoulder towards the woman at the counter pulling mugs out onto its surface from a high cupboard. “I've told you about Rachel. Right?” He says, in such a way that gives the impression that he is uncertain.

I nod only once to the affirmative. “You mentioned you were married.”

“Aye.” The smile that spreads across his face telling me that he is pleased with himself. “Three years now.”

“Four.” Rachel calmly interjects, pouring steaming water into the mugs on the side.

Dale tilts his head, his forehead creasing in thought. Bringing his hand up in front of him he slowly extends each finger from his index to his ring, his lips moving quietly as he counts. “Did I miss an anniversary?”

“No.” Rachel's heels take her over to the large white object in the corner, which Dale earlier pointed out as the 'fridge'. Pulling a white container from inside. “I stole you're credit card, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” He says, wistfully. “Did I buy you anything nice?”

Her bark of laughter follows. “Those flowers were beautiful. Thank you.” As she passes back toward the steaming mugs she rests her hand against his shoulder, the pads of her fingers pressing into his flesh to show her affection.

“Nothing but the best for my wife.”

Gently I allow my back to rest back against the chair. Trying to remain as still and silent as possible as I watch the exchange. The deep tenderness they hold for each other is plan to see and on full display to my prying eyes. Not only that but the playfulness in the way they address each other is something that I had previously only been able to associate with my four new friends in Gryffindor house. It was not something I ever thought to be obtainable to someone with my upbringing. Yet here they both stand, defying the laws of my logic.

“So Jamelia.” Abruptly Rachel abandons any further banter with her husband and focuses her attention on me. “Or do you prefer Jay?”

I clear my own awkwardness from the back of my throat, not certain if I would be comfortable hearing either name drop from my sister-in-law's lips . “Dale is the only one who calls me Jay. My Father is the...” I watch the anger cloud my brother's face and the muscles along Rachel's back clench at the mention of the man and quickly I correct myself. “My friends call me Jamie.”

“Well...” She turns and places a steaming mug of light brown liquid in front on me upon the table, meaningfully catching my eye before continuing. “If it's alright with you, I’ll call you Jamie.”

I can feel the confusion clouding my features and I can do little to halt it. Instead I try to draw attention away from the look on my face with a curt nod and a calmly spoken. “Certainly.” Whether she intended to do so or not, she has inferred that, even without having met me before that we stand upon friendly ground. Trust, that I had been so nervous about obtaining has already been given, freely.

She smiles again and I am struck with how sincerer the small gesture is. “Jamie it is then.” The decisiveness of her tone is coupled with the resolute nod of her head and she turns away from me to retrieve her drink from the side. We are all quiet until Rachel takes her seat, squirming around upon the chair in a search of the most comfortable position and when she is happy she settles in. Pursing her lips together to blow air across the surface of her hot drink, catching on the steam and throwing it into a chaotic storm before fading away into nothing. She takes a sip and pulls first her lower then upper lip between her teeth. “So Jamie.” My eyes are drawn up to meet her gaze, starting to become familiar with the smile that lights their depths. “How was your trip?”

My left eye twitches and I struggle not to narrow them as I study her body language. The question holds much more weight than she wishes to divulge, I can see it as she gazes intently over the rim of her mug waiting for my answer. “Quiet.” I reply, keeping my eyes on her very expressive face.

Her eyebrows rise, indicating she had expected me to elaborate beyond a single word answer but it only takes her a moment to realize such a thing is not forthcoming. Her hands curl around her mug and she leans forward. “Just quiet?” she asks softly.

Words spring to the tip of my tongue. Unhindered, unabated. Begging and pleading to spill forth until the very moment I run out of breath. Instantly I know, unequivocally that this woman. This short, smartly dressed, muggle woman, with her calm patience and trusting face must be the one to have broken the protective casing that surrounded Dale when he left his childhood home all those years ago.

Leaning closer to her in my chair, my arms naturally land against the table top and my fingers threading through each other as I blink up into her warm features. Trying and failing to swallow the verbal vomit that is clambering up my throat and all the while she holds my gaze. Silently commandeering all of my attention with just a single glance. “I managed to get a bit lost in Glasgow Central. Other than that it was pretty uneventful.” I have to literally drag my lower lip between my teeth to stop myself from explaining in detail my very boring train journey. How on earth is she able to do that?

She continues to smile and nods in amusement, which only make me want to tell her more. “You made it though.” She changes her position again, her body moves but she never breaks her gaze. Leaning forward she rest her chin against her open hand. “Tell me about school.”

Somehow I manage to flick my eyes from hers to catch site of Dale, who is remaining conspicuously quiet. A small smile playing across his lips as his fingers run along the rim of his mug, content to let his wife effortlessly pry this information from me.

As if under come compulsion my gaze rests once more on the endless pools of green that hold nothing but interest. “School?” I ask. Watching her nod enthusiastically with a low sound of encouragement in her throat. I shrug not really knowing how much a muggle could understand about a place like Hogwarts. “I don't know.” Somehow I know she isn't questioning me on my academic achievements and I wrack my brain trying to come up with something, anything to say that might make her smile again, without descending into my usual arrogance. “I've got a close circle of friends, they're really good at helping me through, everything.” Even as I wonder exactly where that came from, I remember Ginny counting off the minuets as I force myself to remain in the Great Hall and smile at the memory.

The interest never leaves Rachel's face but before I can delve into exquisite detail with regards to each and every relationship I am part of in the school, up to and including my uneasy trust of the potions master I am saved by a flicker of movement caught in the corner of my eye. “Is that supposed to be smoking?”

“Balls!” Dale exclamations literally jumping out of his chair and to his feet. The flame beneath the pan extinguishes and he waves his hand through the thick, black smoke in a bid to dispel it from the room. With a clatter the pan lands in the basin and Dale opens the cold water tap, all the while whispering quiet profanities such as 'Bollocks' or 'Bugger' to himself.

Rachel, who must have assessed the situation and deemed that the pan will not burst into flames at any moment, is content to softly chuckle at her husband. The soft teasing smile not leaving her lips for a moment even as Dale turns on the spot to glare in her direction.

He points and accusing finger at her. “You said ten minutes.”

“I also said: boil in water.” She returns.

“Yeah. I suppose you did.” He says leaning back against the sink, running his hand over his hair, his fingers tugging on his fringe until it falls once more over his forehead. “Pizza?”

This question is directed at me and once more I feel like there is a whole new language that I must learn to be able to function even closely with the muggle world. “Urm...”

He doesn’t wait for my confusion to clear, waving his hand in an almost dismissive gesture. “Don't worry. Everyone likes Pizza.”
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By The Light