• “When I left, I left with all the intention of dying-- but then he made me promise. Well, I say made but it was him who told me not to promise something like that-- but I couldn’t help it. Not in that moment. Leaving like that, without turning back, seemed too cruel then, to both of us. So I promised him-- promised that I'd come back-- and I’ve struggled with that every day since."

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    I found myself sitting across from him later that night in a way that had become familiar to us both, but what was not familiar was the urgency, the need that filled me that I had not felt with him since I first began our conversations. I sat in silence, for some reason holding back my question in an effort to make the answer seem less important to me than it for some reason was, but for my life I could think of nothing else to ask him to ‘throw him off the scent’ as it were, succeeding now in only making it so apparent how much his response meant to me more so than it would’ve appeared had I asked as soon as I had stepped into the room for then I could’ve at least with his answer move past this obsession and actually recall one of the countless questions I always seemed to have for him whenever I wasn’t in his presence. Finally I gave up trying and just asked.

    “Who is he?”

    I knew I had no need to say more, to clarify what I meant, and for that I was grateful. He looked at me briefly before turning his eyes away, something I couldn’t place in his features. “Why didn’t you ask that in the courtroom Mr. Minister?”

    I took my time answering him, knowing how odd my reason would seem to him. “To ask you such a personal thing, in front of so many people-- it seemed in poor taste,” and it was true. I had desperately wanted to know since he had first mentioned this promise-- to know this person who held such sway over such a being, but I could not force myself to ask it there-- to try and make him answer that with so many people who only held scorn and disgust for him because they had yet to see. I couldn’t bring myself to.

    “What makes you think I’ll tell you now?” and his voice seemed genuinely interested, but I could still hear the guard that was present in him, the defense and protectiveness that was there whenever this subject was brought up-- whenever he was brought up.

    “I don’t but I had hoped,” I said softly, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he would not answer me. Maybe in due time the answer would make itself known to me, and I latched onto that to keep me going until that time, surprising myself that I took his lack of answer so easily for all my need... I had one more question though. “Mr. Potter?”

    And perhaps there was something in my tone or he could somehow sense in me the incredible need for he looked at me here, patient and open. “Do you love him?”

    And something swam across his face, and a weakness and vitality all at once seemed to enter him. “Yes,” was his simple, suffering answer so full of everything that I was left... Well, I can’t exactly say what I was left with, but it moved me and left me feeling weak in the strangest way.

    “He must be quite remarkable.”

    And I suppose he had not expected my comment as I watched his eyes widen just a fraction. But then he smiled-- smiled in such a euphoric way with all the tenderness and admiration of love that I felt myself warmed by it. “Yes.”