“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”

Oliver wished he hadn't invited either of them, by the time he found out Alice wasn't in his room. A glance at his mother confirmed that she had gone through the other bedrooms to wake everyone, but she had not seen in the blonde in question. He stole a look down at Ariel's closed door, his fist clenching even as he turned to follow Minnie and his mother downstairs. If they didn't wake, at least he wouldn't have to see them or explain himself.

Oliver did his best to avoid the stares and questions of his large collection of relatives, if only because they would prod at Alice as well. They didn't know his reasoning, but only that he had been missing over night. Apparently, Alice and Ariel had ignored (or missed) the chance to throw Oliver under the bus, though he undoubtedly deserved it.

By the time anyone had gotten a question in, Oliver had snatched up a muffin and made his way outside to the little well that had long since run out of water. Sitting on the rim, he stared up at the house, half expecting Alice to come storming out and push him in. But it never happened, and within the hour he was being herded into the car with his parents and his aunt, who was also Thalia's godmother. Oliver found himself surprised that Gregory hadn't tried to cover up his bruises, but he came to realize quite quickly that his father understood what Oliver was trying to do. He was making a point just as much as he was forcing himself to suffer. He deserved what he was getting and would receive.

It wasn't until he turned to pull his car door shut that he caught sight of his... friends? Could he still dare classify himself as a friend for them? Oliver would certainly wish to have them on his side, but the part of his mind that was starting to sound more and more rational reminded him that he didn't do well with other people. He and Ariel had only worked when both were busy, kept to themselves, or generally just spent their days being sarcastic. After all, Oliver had gotten used to living on his own before Ariel had returned. Why was he expected to do well with people after he had grown to do things alone?

Oliver wasn't sure he had actually managed eye contact with either of them, but he slammed the door shut regardless, sinking into his seat. It was with grim determination that Oliver sat through the ride and stood through the memorial, doing all he could to stare blankly at whatever ended up before him rather than actually showing how he felt. His jaw kept clenching throughout the ceremony, a reminder that he shouldn't turn his head to look for Ariel or Alice. Instead, he remained stiff as he could, simply gazing ahead throughout the entirety.

It was lucky, he supposed, that nobody asked him to say anything. Oliver was fairly certain that someone considered asking him, since people glanced his way a few times, but got a look at his face and then turned away. By the time the thing had ended, he was exhausted. Not having slept surely made the whole thing just that much more difficult. Anything that came out of his mouth in reply to apologies or whatever else sounded dark and languid, though no one seemed to openly fault him for it.

Just before the casket was set to be covered over, he broke away from the little pod of family members he had been standing among - though hadn't been paying attention to - and walked over to crouch beside the grave. As he did so, his hand delved into his right side pocket, drawing out a strip of paper torn out of a journal, marked with four lines from Thalia's favorite poem.

Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
          The Lady of Shalott.

Reading them over silently, his stance faltered, shoulders shaking before he could stop them. Straightening his back, Oliver rose, folding the paper and releasing it. As it fell, he watched, only turning away when it hit the lid and settled. Over his shoulder, he found Alice with his gaze and hesitated, hands finding their way into his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to walk over and... hug her or something. But that wasn't allowed anymore. Nothing was. Because he'd gone and said the wrong thing, and now he was beat up, broken in many senses of the word, and alone regardless of the vast numbers of people around him.

So he simply looked down at the ground, scuffing one shoe into the dirt and then ambling in the general direction of his roommates. Perhaps he would be excused. Or, if not, he could pretend he was aiming past them, for the car.

Idle chatter permeated the kitchen but the sound and tension rose as it filled with family members who greeted each other both wearily and warily, the profound importance of the day finally settling in. Having stolen a corner of the room for their own, Ariel and Alice set about finding themselves some breakfast, one holding cups while the other spread chocolate and clotted cream onto bits of fruit bread and the odd croissant. The meal was abandoned after a few bites, however, their stomachs lurching together, the dismal manner of the situation staving them off of their breakfast. Instead they consoled themselves with a jug of coffee which was provided to them by a stray relative of their hosts. It was through that and a smaller jug of milk that they made their way while everyone else ate.

Both waited for one particular individual who had not reappeared in their presence since the spectacular falling out between the man in question and the blond witch. When Oliver did appear, Alice jolted forward, her feet moving of their own accord. Ariel’s arm wound roughly around her middle and she gave a cry of frustration and dismay as he lifted her back into her space beside the side table upon which their things were sat. He set her with a terse look and Alice lifted up her hand insistently, trying to bite back any hissing assertion that she needed to speak with him. Ariel’s expression was resolute. It was neither the time nor the place to try and have that apologetic spluttering of a conversation. Neither did he want to deal with the emotional turmoil of what any show of affection could provoke. It wasn’t the time.

The pair shared a cigarette before they went, going out ahead of a few others to wait for the cars. Then, as a thin sheen of rain began to fall they ducked into their car with those they’d followed out and they found themselves being carried through the village to the church and then, after shirking the chilly, stone walls they stood in the rain, under an umbrella, listening to mutterings of bad luck. It was a light drizzle really, but enough to undo the work of so many of the women there, letting their hair go to frizz. Alice leaned into Ariel, her head lolled against his shoulder, and they watched as outsiders yet at the same time as insiders as the proceedings went on.

Her mind couldn’t help but stray to Bulgaria and to the headstone that was hers, amidst the ice and the snow, probably long having fallen into disrepair. She wondered to herself whether this was the way her family had been – calm, black totem poles huddled together like penguins, waiting for their cue to get out of the weather. There was something macabre and narcissistic about these musings, Alice rationalised, but for as long as she had been old enough to remember she’d wondered after them. She’d wondered after home. She didn’t know whether they missed her. She didn’t know if she could remember their names right or not. Had it been so long? Possibly. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had it been like this after all? Had they cared? Or had it been as she’d always been told? She’d been abandoned. Left to die. Left dead. Unloved and unwanted.

Alice straightened, lifting herself up onto her tiptoes, when Ollie broke from his assumed position. She stepped out from under the umbrella and this time Ariel didn’t stop her, watching her idly out of the corner of his eye as she strained upwards to try and see what was happening. When Ollie drew up to his feet, she took a few steps back and the pair watched as he made his way towards them. Impulse took her to break rank again and she flew to him, throwing her arms about his neck, hugging him close to her desperately, her fingers catching in the hair at the nape of his neck. Ariel moved over, lifting the umbrella overhead and he smiled, rubbing the top of his friend’s head fondly as the blonde woman broke back, fearing she’d lingered too long in the embrace.

“Methinks we should get some wine in you, mate,” Ariel smiled a little at Ollie, clapping him on the shoulder. “Or some whisky, eh?”

It took a moment to register Alice's approach, but that was just enough time to pull his hands back out of his pockets before she collided with him, arms circling him though he hadn't asked for it. Even though he didn't deserve it. "Careful," he breathed, the jolt reviving what was left of his pain from the night before. Still, he pressed his cheek against hers, and spent a moment just breathing her in as his arms came up to connect behind her and hang loosely around her back. When Alice pulled away, Oliver was reluctant to accept it. That is, until he realized Ariel was there and attempting a show of condolence.

He wanted to accept the suggestion, but Oliver was immediately reminded of what had happened the previous two nights. Both problems had involved alcohol, though one had hurt him far more than the other. So he drew back, crossing his arms over his chest as if they could defend him from the rest of the injustices of his world. "I don't know," he replied slowly, dropping his gaze to the ground. "I had been avoiding it for a reason. I'd just forgotten what that was until now."

Shaking his head, Oliver's decision was made official. Alcohol ruined him, as it did so many others, and he was not interested in finding out what it caused next. Glancing back towards his parents, and then turning half way around to look back at Thalia's grave, he swallowed hard and shook his head again. "No, I don't think I should." He said, turning back to face them again. "But, um, you guys can. Nobody would mind. I mean, I think most of mum's side were planning on it, anyway."

Frankly, Oliver just wanted to sleep, even though it would hardly be acceptable in his mother's eyes when everyone had come out to try and take care of him and his parents. But didn't sleeping count as making sure he was taken care of? Oliver liked to think so. Were it not for his bruises, the man was fairly sure that his eyes would have been dark regardless due to lack of sleep. It had been upwards of thirty six hours, and as much as he believe he had messed up, he would just get worse if he kept it up. Surely everyone else saw that, too.

With the umbrella overhead, Oliver realized that he was probably rather soaked. His right hand came up to brush back and forth through his hair, wiping the raindrops away as best as he could manage. "I, um... That doesn't mean I won't go with you if... you know, if you think that'd be okay," he clarified, glancing to Alice guiltily.

"Actually," he added quickly, straightening up, "When we get home, you two can pick your poison, and I'll move the television into Ariel's room. We can just watch stuff like we would've at home. You know, until I crash. Because that's inevitable."

“Maybe something warm would be better then,” Alice offered instinctively, trailing her hand towards Ollie’s but managing to stop herself just as her fingertips brushed across his palm. “It’ll get the rain out of your bones,” she continued, stealing back her hand to slip it into the pocket of her coat. She swallowed and mustered a smile for him before reaching out to push up Ariel’s arm so the umbrella was properly over the other man, protecting him from the lashings of rain. She brought her hand down, letting it brush over Ollie’s shoulder to wipe away some of the water before glancing at Ariel who nodded, a pleasant, contented look taking over his features as he turned, allowing them to make their way back towards the cars.

Ariel reached the car first and opened the door, letting Alice get in first before fixing Ollie with an accusatory, admonishing stare. “Don’t be stupid,” he scolded the man, glaring at him briefly before smiling a little, reassuringly adding, “of course she wants you,” in an undertone that meant the blonde inside the car fretting to herself about everything being wet couldn’t hear. He raised his eyebrows cheekily and then gestured for Ollie to get in before letting down the umbrella and climbing in himself.

The ride back was damp and awkward in equal amounts. Once they were inside, however, they shed their coats, removed their shoes and finally set about getting dry. Ariel went off to get the drinks, clearly more familiar – through having watched, Alice suspected – with the kitchen than she was. Dutifully, Alice followed up behind Ollie and tried to help with the television but really just got in the way. Nevertheless, at the soonest juncture she got out of the cold, black garb she loathed to wear and found out a pair of jogging bottoms with a pineapple pattern on them and a long-sleeve, pale yellow top. She felt better in colour and once she found herself out a thick blanket, a lot warmer too.

Alice bounced into the bedroom and jumped vibrantly onto the bed she’d slept in the night before which she’d left a mess and hastened to straighten out upon landing. Then she flopped against the pillows, snuggling into her blanket as Ollie sorted out the television. Once that was done, Ariel returned brandishing three mugs of hot chocolate that immediately conjured images of her childhood into Alice’s mind. She accepted hers gratefully and shuffled along the bed, half hoping Ollie would sit with her but of course sense buried the hope within her and she focused instead upon her drink, sipping at it contentedly, savouring the taste of the chocolate.

“Can we watch a chick flick?” She asked, ignoring the look of utter disdain that crossed Ariel's face. "Something lighthearted, at least. Please?"

Ariel's words only served to make Oliver blanch, his mouth opening in surprise. He couldn't bring himself to ask the question on his mind, though, so he took the metaphorical nudge and got into the car. Cold though the drying water was, and as tired as Oliver might have been, the real problem was the he was sat in the middle. That was absolutely no fun. He probably would have slept on the ride home were it not for the fact that he could feel Alice along the entire right side of his body. His hands were clasped in his lap for the majority of the ride, but as Ariel turned to look out the window, Oliver shifted, his arms relaxing, and for a stupid moment he let his last two fingers stretch and brush across Alice's arm.

Pulling in a breath through his nose, Oliver sat up straighter, and moved his hand away once more. In his head, it was meant as a silent show of both thanks as well as a gentle apology, but that didn't mean it would come off that way to Alice. So he made sure to keep to himself the rest of the way home.

They had been the first to leave, so their house was empty when the car pulled up. While Ariel wandered into the kitchen, Oliver nicked the television from their side room, leaving the larger one put in the living room, and made his way upstairs. Alice, though she did attempt to be helpful, made Oliver uncomfortable, and he struggled to keep everything together. The room Ariel was staying in had once been an office, but before that, they'd made it into a game room of sorts, so it still had the proper area for setting a television. It was placed atop the dresser on the short wall, and Oliver shucked his suit jacket, setting it on the back of the desk chair before turning to look into getting everything plugged in.

When he turned around, Ariel was there, passing out mugs, and Oliver didn't fail to note the difference between expectation and reality. Alice had changed, and none of them had alcohol in hand. He suddenly felt younger than he really was, though Oliver didn't have it in him to actually go off and change. It felt wrong, somehow, to add that insult to his leaving quickly and spending the afternoon watching a movie, nonetheless sleeping, as he wanted to. So he set down his mug and pulled his wand from the inner suit jacket pocket, not interested in continuing to look like a lighter-haired Mr. Darcy any longer. The lingering water was whisked away, leaving him oddly warm now that the evaporation had ceased.

The mug back in hand, Oliver lifted it to his lips, breathing in the scent and letting the warm pass across his face. A hand lifted, pressing lightly against his bruises as he walked over to the bed, testing. "I don't care either way," Oliver answered, trying to keep from wincing at the twinge of pain he'd caused himself. "I don't think I'll make it through the entire film. You two fight it out."

He set his cocoa on the nightstand, debating how to handle their seating situation, but decided he was too tired to truly worry about it. Sinking onto the mattress, he bent his legs at the knees so Ariel could lay across the end if he chose to, and let his head fall into the pillows. He ended up facing Alice in order to keep his injured side out of the pillow, and by the time they had ceased arguing over the movie choice, Oliver was already asleep. Even before his drink had gone cold, he had shifted, his forehead pressing against Alice's side.

It’d been four weeks. Nearly. Nearly a month. It had been long enough to make the ritual of marking her days on the calendar something of a fallacy and enough dinners with friends had been hosted to make it all feel uncomfortably permanent. It was on a particularly abhorrent, dismal Sunday when the rain seemed determined to flood the streets that it finally became apparent that this was her life now. As charming as it was, painting a chair she’d bought from a charity shop a particularly putrid shade of green to pick out the other greens in her towels and bath mat smacked at this being a very, very permanent thing. The chair fit for the room. She’d even bought some blush pink roses to sit in a little glass on the side of the sink; and as fake as they were, the whole thing was very disquietingly real.

For the twenty-ninth day, Alice woke up that chilly December morning on her own. She rolled over, drawing herself away from the stuffed rabbit she’d liberated from her bedroom at home and dropped with a puff of air bouncing out of her lungs onto her back. It took a few moments but eventually her eyes came into focus and she found herself, not for the first time, staring up at the ceiling and reaching out either side of her as far as her fingers could stretch. One hand fell off of the bed while the other pawed awkwardly at the sheets, both searching and hoping that perhaps someone would be there and it would prove to be something of a nightmare or perhaps nothing at all. But there was no one there. There was no sound of a dog’s nails as Eric skittered across the floorboards. There was no exclamations of a weary Ariel. And there was no Ollie. There was no Ollie.

Throwing back the covers, the blonde witch got up out of bed and grabbed the silk nightgown she’d bought a few days ago off of vanity chair. Sliding it on, she wafted out into the living room just as the letterbox fluttered and post fell onto the welcome mat. Taking a pen off of the table she reached over to the calendar hanging on a nail on the wall and scored a line through the box with that particularly date in it. Twenty nine days. Capping the pen again, Alice dropped it back on the table and leaned down to retrieve the post, pleased to find the morning Prophet tied up there along with the other letters. Slipping the newspaper under her arm, Alice flicked through the post, discerning junk mail and bills amongst the other nonsense – though she did keep the pizza pamphlet and put it in with the other take-out menus, a collection of which she was slowly making up in a kitchen drawer.

Abandoning the post on the countertop next to a jar of vanilla pods which she’d slowly been making up in preparation for making cakes on an industrial scale for Christmas in lieu of real presents, Alice moved over to her coffee maker and roused it into life. Once the smell of brewing coffee began to permeate the pores of the flat, the blonde witch began to tidy up from the night before when Jemma and Dan had, not for the first time that week, come over for dinner. A bottle of wine and some beer later, albeit not for Jemma who was now very noticeably plump, the couple relented in going, leaving the washing up to their friend at her insistence. Now, in the watery winter light of the morning, Alice was beginning to regret it but once she had some music playing she was more than happy to delve her hands into soapy water and clean all of her cutlery and crockery.

In the midst of this, as it was want to do, the phone rang and Alice frowned at the bleating piece of plastic over her shoulder before glancing down into the sink. Sufficing as to improvise, Alice kicked up her leg and poked at the speakerphone button with her big toe. Immediately, a familiar voice crackled into the room and Alice laughed a little as before the first greeting rang a shout sounded in the background, followed by a distinctly canine yap. A little bit of fumbling went on and then finally, from the speaker, the sharp, shrill voice of Ariel Greyback beat into the flat over the sound of the music.

“Mornin’ Princess! Twenty days ‘til Christmas!” The Scottish werewolf declared with all of the excitement in the world in his voice. “Eric go away a minute would you?!” He added as an afterthought – Alice mentally adding the glare that he no doubt fired at the hound. “Look,” Ariel resumed. “Are you coming over or what because I’ve got to go and finish fixing Mrs. Higgins’ shed and her bloody husband is really getting on my tits.”

“Ari,” Alice called out, “have you ever thought of taking a gentler approach with the dog?”

“I’ll take a gentler approach when he’s had an hour’s run in him,” was the griping response. “You might want to consider a sturdier pair of trainers today. It’s a touch icy out there.”

“Thank you, weatherman,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “Look, just give me an hour, okay?”

“Why?” came the sharp reply. “What in the blazes do you have to do? Look. I am usually all fuzzy inside with regards to this dog but we are now four days from the full moon and I don’t know whether to kill him or myself so can you please hurry along your neat little bum and put me out of my misery?”  

“D’you want me to kill you or sort out the dog?” She asked with a laugh. “No, I had Jemma and Dan over last night so we ate lots and the flat was a mess to begin with anyway. I want some damage control done before my sister gets here.”

“How come I wasn’t invited?” Ariel inquired petulantly. “What does Marianne want, then? And sort out the dog, never mind me.”

“You weren’t invited because you are a pain to cook for and Marianne wants my vinyl.” Alice replied, pulling the plug out of the sink and turning on the water to encourage the bubbles to drain away. As she wiped her hands and then began to put the things away, Ariel’s reply came.

“So, you’ll be over in half an hour, right babe?” He asked cheekily.

“Ariel what part of—” before she could get a word in, the phone went dead and Alice pouted as though somehow it was responsible for her now having even less time.

Eventually, the witch got the flat together and presentable. Marianne managed to go in and out as Alice was getting dressed, taking the majority of what her sister had in the way of discs and the thankless ‘goodbye’ went a long way to make Alice wonder why she’d even bothered to help. In zipping up her coat and stuffing her iPod into her pocket, there was nothing else for it. With four minutes to spare, she was done. So, taking hold of her wand. Then, with a crack, she apparated out of her living room and onto the doorstep of a place she had awkwardly frequented quite often since, in a roundabout sort of way, move out.

The door was unlocked and Ariel was inside in the midst of making breakfast. Eric found her first, zeroing in on the lead that Alice had picked up from the hallway. He wasn’t nearly as manic as Ariel’s frenzied call had made him out to be but given the fact that the werewolf was tetchier than ever now, the poor dog was probably just being completely normal. She waggled the lead at him temptingly and looped it onto his collar before looking up from the dog at Ariel who, having just flipped over some of that morning’s bacon, swivelled around to look at her. The werewolf flashed her a keen smile and relief registered on his features. He looked as though, from the state of him, that he hadn’t gotten up all that early. Alice had been nursing the last ebbs of drunkenness and had still managed to get up. She doubted the werewolf had a better excuse. The full moon wasn’t far away, though, and he was beginning to look ill again.

“How are you feeling?” Alice asked concernedly in the midst of rubbing her fingers between Eric’s ears. “You look a bit pale.”

“I live contrary to all sense,” Ariel replied glibly, moving away from the stove. “How’re you? You look suitably miserable.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice rising a few decibels, betraying her lie. Alice winced as Ariel chuckled a low, disbelieving sound rumbling into the room.

“Mmmhmm,” he replied airily. “My better half is fine, too. Not as up for being sociable as you are but, alas, we can’t all be as fine as you.”

“Ariel that’s not fair,” Alice protested, dropping her arms down to her sides as an exasperated look took hold of her features.

The werewolf sighed and nodded. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Did you enjoy the meal?”

“I made it,” she explained – and that was explanation enough. As much as Ariel had tried to teach her, Alice wasn’t a particularly gifted chef. He knew immediately upon fixing her with his stare that they’d probably gone for a take-away in the end.

“Right, bugger off. Go do dog things. Get your run in. Tire him out. Please and thank you. You are my saviour. All I want this Christmas is peace of mind and ideally you home because the clothes are starting to feel weird.” He grasped her upper arms dramatically and kissed each cheek. “Go, be free my pretty bird – off with you!”

Alice rolled her eyes but did as she was bid all the same, keen to get out into the brisk air with Eric who seemed eager, himself, to go out and run. She loved taking him for a walk for this express reason – their energy seemed to match. She couldn’t quite sprint like he could sometimes but she could run well enough with him by her side. Once the pair hit the pavement they were off and they began to worm their usual route around that portion of the town, starting by the flat before wandering down into the high street already decorated for Christmas and then into the park where Alice would usually go twice around the fountain before pushing off again to bank round back towards the flat.

Today she stopped, eager for the rest as her head began to pound a little. Plopping herself down onto the side of the fountain she unhooked Eric’s lead from his collar and took out a tennis ball from her pocket. She pulled back her arm and threw the ball across the frozen grass, watching as he skittered off to go and get it. Alice took a breath and lifted her leg up onto the side, bracing her foot on the stone. Wrapping one arm around her shin she watched Eric as he grew bored of the ball relatively quickly, keen instead to snuffle around and explore. That suited her down to the ground, in truth, and, catching her breath, decided to sit and watch the world as it wandered on by, slowly beginning to wake to the day.

It was lucky, Oliver decided, that although everyone else and everything else had changed, Eric hadn't. The dog was as lazy as he always had been, and it was fitting. While Oliver wrote, the dog slept on his feet or chewed on whichever toy he'd picked out, just as he had done before, and when it came time to go out, he trotted alongside his owner like nothing had gone wrong. Unfortunately, now that Oliver was doing better, he was expected to attend meetings held by the Order. Rather, held by his partner in hopefully preventing crime: one Miss Swan.

So, although he was going to be out, Oliver had asked his father to meet him afterwards for lunch. It was one of those rare times when he found himself out of the house for more than a few hours, given how he had taken to locking himself away with the dog and his writing. It was just lucky that Eric would rather sleep than complain about it. Even if Oliver had wanted to go out, the dog likely would have just pouted and made his owner carry him home because his paws got too cold and too tired.

Surprisingly, his most recent story was actually coming along fairly well. It wasn't exactly where he wanted it to be, but the plot was at least one that he had some opinion on. It was one where he felt he could garner some sort of attachment to the characters and wish them well in the end. Otherwise he wasn't at all sure it would be worth writing a word of it.

It would have been a lie, of course, to say that he didn't wonder after the blonde that he had left in France. Indeed, he had shied away from her touch, unable to permit it after what she had said. He hadn't felt in the wrong then, and he didn't really feel that he was wrong, even now. But, equally untrue would be to say that he didn't know about Ariel managing to keep in touch with her. It didn't surprise him, of course, when he considered the fact that - ever since Alice had arrived - he and Ariel had not really gotten along. That wasn't to say that the two men ever did, really. Somehow - and don't ask Oliver how, because he couldn't explain it - they still were able to avoid killing each other. Now that Alice was gone, though, things were just getting worse. Oliver found himself wishing all the more than he hadn't actually sold his boat, knowing that he probably should have just written to Marie from the start and kept his head down. He and Alice could have kept fighting, but she wouldn't have left.

Really, though, Oliver still didn't have a clue why they were all so angry with him. He had been serious about keeping her safe, but all anyone did was get mad at him for helping. Which was why he didn't bother trying to get in touch with them again. Sure, Alice had come by to get her things after she had bought her flat, but Oliver hadn't said a word. Just let her do her thing, and pretended it wasn't happening by locking himself away again. In fact, that had been the incident that kickstarted his hermit-like habits.

While Oliver was at his meeting, though, Gregory found that he was early, and didn't want to intrude on Ariel. Sure, they knew each other, but the werewolf had never needed to have any sort of real conversation with Oliver's father, so there really wasn't a point to trying now. Not when his son didn't even get along with his flatmate. So he decided to stop by the little market nearby to pick up a hot coffee, and wander around a bit.

The man's gaze flitted around as he walked, finally settling on a bird up in one of the trees around the circular pavement that surrounded the fountain near to Oliver's apartment. That is, until something wandered over to him and started sniffing at his pant leg. Gregory glanced down, his eyebrows lifting so high that they practically disappeared behind the hair that rested across his forehead. Crouching down, he extended a gloved hand towards Eric and took a quick look around the fountain, unable to comprehend why his son would have let the dog run about on his own. "You're not out here alone, are you?" he asked uselessly, knowing full well that the animal couldn't answer him. When his hand found Eric's back to offer gentle pats, he realized that the poor thing was shaking from the cold.

Gregory finished off his coffee, dropping it into a nearby trash can, and reached down to pick up the apex pomsky in order to gather Eric in his arms. Pulling out his wand, he cast a little warming charm around both of them, and then started towards the fountain to see if he could figure out who was supposed to be watching the dog. As he ambled around the fountain, which had been turned off for winter in case of weather such as this, Gregory's gaze settled on a blonde woman sitting along the edge.

Not entirely caring if he frightened her, considering what had happened the last time he saw her, Gregory sat down beside her and set Eric in his lap. Immediately, the dog curled up and dropped his chin onto his paws, seemingly appreciating the warmth that Gregory's spell provided. "So!" he burst, half hoping she jumped when the sound met her ears. Still, he kept his gaze ahead, not really interested in seeing whatever expression she sent his way when he continued. "I see you've found a way to spend time with my son's dog... but haven't bothered to say a word to Oliver about it. I doubt he would let Eric be out so long in the cold, after all. Which means he isn't back from his meeting, as I thought. Interesting that you seem to care as little for him as he expected, yet you told him you loved him. Funny how that works..."

The words lapped across the porcelain skin of the blonde witch like the unforgiving breezes that rumbled through the leaves. The assertion made bit harder at her skin than any wind. She stared at once when the feel of another person and the exclamation of the man sounded and came around her. She peered and found herself looking down at her canine charge who she’d neglected, having been swept up in her thoughts. A pang of guilt, a feeling she was beginning to grow accustomed to, warped through her and Alice took in through her mouth an icy breath that burned her lungs.

Despite her better, surly innards, she found she was smiling. It was a bracing flash of an upwards twitch of her lips that was contrary to the tumult she could feel being whipped into a churlish tempest within her. With her icicled fingers she reached down and twinkled her touch across Eric’s head, gracing him with a small, apologetic look that she couldn’t discern a response for. She doubted she’d be forgiven for it. She could tag his name to the bottom of the list of men in her life who she’d upset. It was beginning to take up a whole side of parchment now – she felt she might as well get frivolous with new additions.

"Sorry, shiver me timbers," she murmured fondly to him. "There's about as much husky in you as there is in me, isn't there?" She queried, tickling under his chin.

Taking another deep breath that made her wince deeply, within her very essence it felt, Alice affixed her eyes on the park before her and the people trailing through with their first cups of coffee in hand, a chimney column of air wafting behind them. They seemed happy, somehow – even in the cold. She couldn’t say she felt the same in even a small measure of a way. She wished she could have been, though. She wished she’d lingered to properly enjoy her coffee and curl her hair. She wished she’d watched a few bits of morning television or another episode in her series before beginning her day.

Instead she was outside, amongst the frost and her poor, freezing surrogate pomsky – oh, and her almost-boyfriend’s father.

“I would say,” the witch addressed Gregory abjectly, her breath ghosting in front of her face, “that what is funny is that it’s even your business in the first place but I suppose it probably is your business, isn’t it? So, I think instead I’m going to say that I think it’s funny that you both fail to ask after but manage to determine ends based on a set of apparent instances. I resent the assumption that I do not care for your son. With respect sir, if that’s all you have to say to me then I’m going to have to tell you to shove off because I can very well punish myself, thank you, I don’t need your input, too.”

Alice lifted her other leg up onto the lip of the fountain and wrapped both arms around her shins. She shook her head and dropped her chin down onto her knees, trying to conserve a little bit of heat. In truth, she knew she should have pushed off and taken Eric home to warm him up and give him the bubble bath she’d promised – or a blanket, treats, and cuddles, whichever he showed more interest in. Instead she found herself sitting there next to Gregory, mincing over her words and before she knew what she was doing, they were dancing out into the air on the back of fire breath, sharp and unforgiving.

“I’m not talking to your son because I don’t have it in me to argue with him anymore. I am not talking to your son because I am still angry with him. I am not talking to your son because I really do wonder whether or not he’ll have a straight conversation with me. I am not talking to Oliver because I don’t want him to take what I say and mess it up inside of him only to convince himself he’s doing right by me to try and make decisions about my life. I am not talking to, yes, the man I have fallen in love with because I am scared. But it’s my choice. Mine,” she beat her hand against her chest, turning to look at the man. “My decision,” she declared.

“So yes, it’s funny,” Alice nodded her head, her eyes widening a little but still piercing into the elder man as she lowered her legs back down, her hands coming to grasp at the stone. “Funny that I have made a choice at all given that I am not deemed able enough to ever discern what I want – or am even asked. But don’t worry, I’m just as livid with my father so I’m not sparing any ire.” She took a straggling breath, exhaling her words in a wry rush. “But it’s alright. It’s not as though it’s not for the best, is it?” She asked, reaching to pick some lint that wasn’t there off of her running trousers.

“He can do much better than me,” she said softly, getting to her feet and turning to face Gregory. “That’s the funny thing. When he realises that, he’ll get his happy ending. And that’s okay. So long as he’s happy. Doesn’t matter about the way I feel. Shouldn’t have told him in the first place,” her lips twitched up again and she reached absently to her eyes, pulling at her left one in order to coax away the tears she could already feel wanting to splinter at her gaze. She groaned a little and grabbed up the cuff of her jacket to rub it across her eyelid, fighting herself for a little self-control.

“I love him,” Alice meted out steadily, lowering her arms. “Right or wrong, I do. So in the meantime I am stealing the dog occasionally on the off chance that I might one day pluck up the courage to talk to him again. Given that you’ve managed to misconstrue it immediately, though, I’ll probably be strung up by my heartstrings for it if Ollie finds out so I’m going to leave it for now, alright? I’m going to take him home and say no to Ariel next time.”

Alice held out her arms for Eric, ashamed impatience nibbling at her. She blinked a little and flexed her fingers, shooting Gregory an imploring, half-desperate look.

“I really need to go,” she endeavoured. “My brother is coming to fix up some bits and bobs in the flat I’m renting off of him and I need to make sure he doesn’t wreck the place. Ari’s probably wondering where Eric and I got to, too. So, can I just …?” she gestured to the dog again.

Gregory simply smirked at Alice when she started talking. In truth, he had hoped for a retaliation, and Alice had actually given him far more than he had anticipated. As she reached for Eric, though, he just looked at her, and shook his head slowly to either side. "It isn't wrong, even if you don't understand it now. Loving someone is never wrong, kiddo. Honestly, I know what Oliver did, and I know that he doesn't understand why it wasn't the right thing to do. He's trying, but he's got that writer mindset that is bound to destroy him. He fully believes in the theory of, 'if you love something, set it free.'

"And I'm not saying he's right to think so. But he trusts his mind more than his heart. He must not have told you about his past, hmm? I doubt he would have," Gregory admitted, giving Alice an apologetic frown as his eyebrows tugged together, looking for all the world like Oliver when the young man wasn't sure he should say something. "You would have to ask him for details, but he was... serious about a girl for a bit. Not to the extent that they were actually dating. No, she rejected him rather cruelly, and... well, there was a thing about the University she went to. He had been planning on going, but changed his mind. I think he regrets not going more than her finding out how he felt... But, really, you would have to ask Oliver about that.

"Of course," he added, looking down at Eric and shaking his head again, "she wasn't the only one. There have been several unfortunate mishaps. And he seemed pretty okay about them, but that's likely because he wasn't in such close contact with the others..."

Greg looked up at the blonde again, offering a weak little smile as an apology for what he had given away. "I don't say this to make you feel bad. Genuinely. Oliver can't explain himself, so someone has to. That's all, really." He paused for a moment, then tilted his head to the side as he considered whether or not it was really best to continue. But he figured that, if his words actually helped, Oliver would have to thank him for it. And that sounded like a grand time, in Gregory's opinion.

"You know... It doesn't always seem like it, but I think the saddest word in the entire world is 'almost.' ... Thalia almost lived, but no one could save her. Oliver almost had Natalie, but she didn't want him." Gregory's gaze found Alice's as he continued seriously, "He almost had you, but he made a mistake. And if a lifetime of almosts means that he did something wrong and confused you...? I don't know. Seems like he could do to be forgiven. Seems like leaving him alone to stuff himself in his room for days on end, and to be tortured by the roommate who feels a need to defend you... wouldn't be the best idea. I think you know as well as I do by now: It only makes him worse."

Glancing at his watch, Greg found that his time was nearly up; Oliver would be down at the cafe soon, waiting for lunch with his father. While he could do to be a few minutes late, he didn't want to keep his son waiting or make Oliver suspicious. So he picked up Eric and set the dog down on his little paws next to Alice, letting him find his footing on the cold fountain edge. "You may not appreciate it, but Oliver was concerned about the fact that you had been fired. I won't say anything to him if you don't want me to, but we have a few openings at my firm," he offered, pulling a card out of his wallet and setting it on the fountain next to Eric.

The dog sniffed at it, but didn't mess with it, instead watching Gregory as the man gave one quick smile at the pair sitting there. "If you want to fill one of those spots, give me a call. It would be yours without question. Oliver trusts you would do well, so I do, too. Have a good rest of your day, Alice. I've got lunch plans," he explained, giving a final nod before walking off towards the cafe.

Almost. She had so many of those moments in her life. Whether she liked it or not, Gregory was right and though she felt bruised and upset, she knew that there were some things that were more important in life. She had forgiven him; she hadn’t been lying that night. Alice knew, though, that it was well enough to admit to it but she hadn’t shown it. Left alone with Eric who she lifted into her lap and zipped into her coat to keep in that warmth, Alice looked down and met his empathetic, canine eyes as she wrapped her arms around him.

“I love your dad,” she whispered, pressing her lips to Eric’s nose as she smoothed her fingers over his ears. “But I’m not sure this is right, yet. I’m just not ready. Do you know what I mean? Greg’s right, isn’t he? He’s too right for me. Do you think Ollie will forgive me if I wait a little longer, though?” Eric didn’t offer a reply and Alice knew she was foolish to go looking for one from the dog. Suffering a soft sigh she got to her feet and pocked the lead she’d unclipped from his collar as well as Greg’s card. Alice turned the latter over in her fingers thoughtfully for a few breaths before doing so, considering that this, however misplaced it was, was an offer she couldn’t turn down.

When Alice arrived back to the flat, their puppy was warm and snuggled in against her chest and she regretted releasing him out of her coat, letting him down onto the sofa to curl up by the pillows. After peppering kisses across his head, Alice parted from Eric’s side, leaving the lead on the hall table, and wished a good day to the puppy, promised in the same breath to come back soon – though Alice wasn’t entirely sure what constituted as soon. She stopped in the hall and turned a little, glancing around and squinting down the hall at Ollie’s room.

Taking a chance, Alice’s soft footfalls fell down upon the wood and she entered, with hesitant and clumsy hands, the room she had started to tentatively call part hers. Sinking down into his desk chair, the blonde witch felt dizzy amongst the items that were all so very much him. A month had been much, much too long. She missed him. It took a minute of her breathing in the familiar, enticing smells around her for the woman to actually admit it. She missed him. Her heart ached for him. So much so that independent of her own desires, her fingers found a quill and a scrap piece of parchment.

Ollie, it began, in her neat yet cramped, looping script. Hi, was the semi awkward following word with the ‘I’ dotted a little too fiercely. She sighed at the page and absent-mindedly rubbed the quill end against her nose as she thought about what she wanted to say. In truth, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t know what was going to make it better. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d see it or not. In looking around for a space to place the note so he would, her body yearned to slide under the covers of the bed and curl up immersed in his absent presence in order to gather the sleep she’d missed out on. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

I miss you. And I’m sorry it had to be like this. I didn’t want it to be.

Alice took her quill off of the page and looked down to see Eric at her feet, peering at her with an expression that was as bemused as the dog could manage, she supposed. Leaning down, Alice lifted the puppy up onto her lap and cuddled him close to her, resting her chin on his head as she thought, wondering if he’d lend any ideas to her to help. He didn’t but it wasn’t through any fault of his own. She snuggled him tight and continued to scribble across the page, trying to convey in an awkward ramble why she’d done what she’d done. And that, ultimately, she loved him. Bad temper and frustration got the better of Alice though and she screwed up the letter, electing to toss it into the waste paper basket rather than leave it there.

Carrying Eric back into the living room, Alice finally took her leave. She hoped, not for the last time.

---

The general buzz about the firm was just as exhilarating as the hubbub had been in the Ministry and for the witch that liked nothing more than purpose about a place, the mid-December air was perfect as trials were taking place and contentious issues aside from those flying flagrantly overhead. It was breathless, fulfilled sort of life which Alice Rousseau had forgotten in part. The monotony of the Ministry had removed her from what she did, truly, adore doing. Tucked up in her little cubical with her feet slid out of her shoes and curled up underneath her bum with a mess of papers all around her as she tried to work through what was going on with the current task that was laid upon the shoulders of the team she was stationed on.

Routine was something that Alice enjoyed and depended upon. In being given an allotted time to be out of her flat during the day, the purpose that came with routine was returning and she was, most of all, enjoying getting out her work blouses and suit skirts once more. In the few weeks she’d been there, she could say with certainty that she’d learned a lot and she felt more secure with a steady income rather than living off of her savings. The flat wasn’t too expensive, either, and she was feeling a little better about everything that had gone on even if things weren’t resolved. Work had always, and would always, take Alice’s mind off of her ‘other’ life, as it were.

That morning, she’d gone to a nearby coffee shop first to pick up a cup of whatever it was she drank. She wasn’t sure she knew anymore. It was a big cup of the black stuff that had an inordinate amount of sugar in it – that’s all she knew. With that she got some breakfast muffins and a sandwich for later before wandering along to the building where she was now, still, elated to say she worked. Hopping into the lift after saying good morning to the man on the reception desk, she went up with a handful of other people she was sure she recognised but couldn’t name with much confidence to her floor and quickly found her desk, tapping her vase of lilies with her wand to water them as she sat down.

The flowers she sat and observed for a few moments before getting up, grabbing the other white paper bag she’d gotten with a muffin inside for Greg. Wandering along the corridor, not really in a hurry, she took a breath outside his office before peeking in through the window. Finding the office empty she stepped inside and placed the bag in the middle of his desk before darting out again, closing the door softly before hurrying back to her desk.

Into her chair she dumped herself, taking her feet out of her shoes. Thankful that today she’d worn trousers, Alice folded her legs in her chair and drew herself into the desk, turning out the files she’d packed away the night before. Pulling her fluffy pen out from her pencil pot, Alice took her notepad from her drawer and began to make notes, scribbling away happily to herself for an hour or so before growing stiff and weary. Then, barefoot, she went to deposit her sandwich into the staff room fridge before grabbing a glass of water and returning to her seat, only half aware of the bemused looks she got at the state of her stocking-clad feet.

With vigour renewed in her, though, she could continue to badger away and did so until fate intervened.