It felt… cowardly, to flee.
Keela wasn’t an idiot rendered blind by her pride; no, she had enough sense to know that leaving for the weekend was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. Considering it had come directly from the
Arithmancer who had been working alongside
Harry Potter himself, tracking and trying to predict the Widow’s strikes these long months. Considering Keela’s literal soul-deep connection to
DJ. Considering the Widow’s propensity for oddly-specific collateral damage where DJ was concerned.
Indeed, despite the obvious sensibility, her insides still squirmed at the archetypal-Gryffindor part of her that perceived this as
running away instead of standing to fight. Mostly because it brought flashbacks of Third Year, just before the Battle of Hogwarts had broken out. When she’d had to be bodily removed from the Great Hall, screaming and clawing because she’d realized at the last moment that her eldest brother was staying behind to fight. The terror that she might never see him again. The knowledge that she, too,
should want to stay and fight – and the
shame she felt when she realized she was afraid to do so. She’d been only thirteen, for Merlin’s sake; but she hadn’t seen it that way.
The remote Welsh countryside air was delightfully cool this morning despite the season, but it still caught in Keela’s chest as she hastily stamped down the wave of panic and anguish and shame that had surged violently at the memory. She had struggled with those feelings for a very long time afterwards; her behavior in the weeks and months that followed had nearly ruined two of her closest friendships at the time, and even still had likely permanently changed their trajectories altogether.
In any case, the whole notion of leaving was easier to stomach if she framed it in the context of safeguarding him against any additional grief, rather than an attempt to save her own skin.
She’d told her boyfriend about the
letter from Primrose within an hour of receiving it: she’d never forget how his expression had crumpled at the hint of a potential threat to her life, and that admittedly
had made it easier for her to agree to leave Saltash for the forecasted weekend. But she’d spent the better part of the next eleven days trying to determine how to best carry out this plan. She didn’t want her family to know any more than they had to, let alone put any of it in writing to them lest it jeopardize their safety; nor did she want to arouse suspicion by showing up with her cat for the weekend; nor did she want friends or family to drop by for a visit and get caught in the crossfire. It hadn’t taken more than a moment’s discussion for her and DJ to decide that she and Aisling would spend the weekend at Cloud House.
In the end, she’d opted to ward her house in Saltash – much like she’d done at Cloud House nearly three years previously, after she and DJ had cast the Fidelius Charm (which was still firmly in place, but Keela had taken her role as defender very seriously). Now, concealed by the Disillusionment Charm she’d applied to herself before Disapparating (another layer of protection), she continued her ascent of the hill on which Cloud House resided and paused briefly at the boundary of those wards. They shimmered as she approached, granting her (and Aisling, who was tucked securely within the folds of her cloak) access.
The sight of the old house still sent a ripple of dread through her, no matter how many times she saw it: a physical representation of the two years DJ had spent in near-isolation, of the havoc that the Widow had wreaked on him and on his family. Keela sincerely hoped Primrose was right about this projection: if so, then it brought the Ministry another step closer to wiping her off the map.
Repressing a shudder, she made her way up the crumbling stone steps and raised her first, tapping out ‘their’ specific knock pattern on the warped wooden door: yet another safeguard. He had access to directly Apparate into (and Disapparate out of) her coat closet as he pleased, but the idea of direct access to Cloud House negated all of the security measures they’d put into place.
After a moment the door creaked open, and she felt twelve days' worth of tension leave her body the instant she saw his face.
“Hi,” she greeted simply, with a small smile. Letting out a long quiet sigh, she stepped forward to embrace him – taking care not to squash Aisling too much. Keela would turn her loose in the house once they closed the front door.
