Let's Keep It Private| @lachlan

Vrasta, Late January 2016

Hair hacked short to avoid paparazzi, she'd made her way into Eastern Europe for the Vrasta-Yorkshire match. She hadn't quite gone to spy, not really. Or so she'd told herself. She'd fallen in with one of the Vultures a year or so ago (or was it three or four?) at some match they'd had, and she'd kept an eye on the woman's career ever since. Should someone find her, she'd play the good Harpy-For-England card, and claim she was really spying, getting a handle on Yorkshire's moves, while rooting for them. She hadn't sat in a box for visiting Quidditch players, and she hadn't done much to disguise herself.

After all, if she tried, then it seemed like she wanted to hide. And what would she have to hide from? Other than the rivalry with Lady, the and the post-game-fuelled nights, there was nothing particularly interesting about her as a player. She'd never quite charmed the crowd, having to always make true excuses such as pardon me, I have to go. My hair's eating my clothes. The main interests were that she played two different positions that didn't have much similarity in-game, that she was steadily approaching the age of retirement and showed no signs of stopping. Careers weren't typically fifteen years, after all. 

She stumbled from the game in a dizzy haze, fighting the urge to join the Vultures in their celebration. She needed to head away from it, keep herself from making the same mistake, keep herself from staying with the crowds. By the time she'd found herself off of stadium grounds and back to the city, she found herself to be lost. She went to tug at her hair, remembered it wasn't there again. That wouldn't do; she no longer needed to hide. She regrew her cursed hair, fixing a leather with the typical Permanent Sticking Charm to it to try to close it together.

She'd done well in Hogwarts-- what happened to that 'Melza? She knew what had happened-- she'd been Prefect, Quidditch Captain, was scouted for the Harpies. 
And then she'd graduated. And Natalie McDonald and Ariana Robbin and Devon Roberts and Sarah Riverts and Max Robards hadn't been with her. The first had been one of her closest friends, the other four children who had been Sorted with her, children who'd fallen and died in Hogwarts for a War they'd been too young to fight in. Nearly all of Gryffindor had stood for their Harry Potter, and after Demelza had been found and woken, the grounds had been covered in Gryffindor blood, Gryffindor robes twisted around dead bodies. Ravenclaw had fought, Hufflepuff had fought, but the majority of the bodies were Gryffindor and Slytherin.

She hissed, a foot ramming into a raised cobblestone, as she found herself pitching forward. She stumbled around, trying to catch her footing as she jostled into people with poorly-accented apologies.  

Going on the run, Lachlan had no choice. If he wanted to live and if he wanted to protect those closest to him then he had to run. It was one of the few times that the man had been a coward in his life. However he had been faced with the minister himself and it was really a no brainer for him to leave. He wished he could have done more to get word to Roxanne that he was leaving but that had been rather difficult with all that was going on. He hoped she would work out what he was up to though she didn’t know precisely where he was. When he had first made it to Europe he himself didn’t even know where he was but yet now he was in Bulgaria. The man had never been here before and had currently been here for a week. He supposed he would have to keep travelling around this part of the world. He just wished he knew how long he would have evade Death Eaters for.

Lachlan had taken very little by way of possessions but at least at the time he had fled he had his wallet on him and there was muggle money in it. There hadn’t been enough of it for him to live off comfortably but it was enough for him to get basic accommodation for him for a few days. While that had been the best he could do now, he knew it wasn’t worth the risk for him to get too comfortable. He knew it was best for him not to establish himself somewhere for too long. At the end of the day Lachlan did value his safety and that of his girlfriend and his family. The man had felt terrible for not even properly telling his parents or his sister where he was. He supposed that was part in parcel though of fleeing looking after himself first. He rarely put himself but he knew now that he had to as that was the best way he could help those he cared about the most.

He yearned for the day he could get home and have Roxanne in his arms again. He knew the day would come soon, he was just much to eager for it. He had managed tonight to settle into his new place for next few nights. He had picked up on a hint that a local muggle hotel had some rooms going for cheap and so he hadn’t hesitated in snapping up one of those. Lachlan knew he had to make his money stretch as much as possible.

On his way back to his room, dingy as he may be but he knew it was safer for him to be there rather than anywhere else. Lachlan didn’t seem to have as much as a height advantage as he did back home considering how tall some Eastern European men were. Catching a woman who literally had stumbled into his, he made sure to steady her so she didn’t hurt herself. He knew this woman though, it seemed. She had her hair shorter than he had seen it ever but they had spent many nights patrolling the Hogwarts castle together and there was no mistaking her. ”Robins?”

It was short enough that it was only an annoyance to her, unlike to catch the notice of other people. Good, good, she was out, out of the stupid childish thing she had for Lady Watson (and foolish woman, you know Quidditch rivals aren't supposed to be on the same team, don't you? you see her destroying herself and you did nothing but set fire to to it and hide) away from the crush of expectations and Death Eaters and away from Hogwarts and dead friends and dead students and dead Muggle-borns and dead Muggle family and Morgana and Circe and Gwenog, sometimes she can't bloody breathe and you can only run for so long, can't you?

She spun at her surname, already cursing at herself. No, she revealed it, what if it was-- but n, it wasn't, he was familiar,
he was--

She gave a joyful half-laugh, not caring it it was a trap. "It's-- it's you!" She burst out inelegantly, trying not to say his name. "You're alive, you're--" she gave another laugh, exhausted this time, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Well? Better? Safe?"

Being on the run was not ideal but Lachlan had to do what he had to do. He had to survive somehow and leaving all he had behind was the only way. Sure he missed Roxanne and his family, however he knew that he would return to them soon enough and his methods to stay alive as he made his way around Europe would pay off. This was all new to Lachlan since he was the normally the one who did the hunting. Sure he searched for answers but still it was very different to be the hunted for once. He hated feeling like this. It was an unpleasant feeling to be pushed away from a world you had not belonged to from birth but you had taken it upon yourself to be someone in that world. He felt as though the magical world had turned its back on him. He had witnessed too much in the past weeks to be able to stay in the UK and just simply lay low. While Lachlan knew he had friends he could have relied upon or even Roxanne herself to keep him safe. He didn’t want to do that. No he had to keep himself safe and not rely on anyone else.

Lachlan’s eyebrows shot up at how fast his friend had turned on the spot. At least he was on hand to catch her should she have taken a tumble. But she was a Quidditch player and would have had near perfect balance.

”Yes it’s me….” he laughed in return and hugged back before stepping back and looks around. ”I am alive Dems…..and trying to keep safe” he nodded as he guided her to somewhere where they were going to be better hidden. ”It’s been so long. How are you?”

Her hands wanted to shake. They didn't-- she'd trained them out of that far too well, because once hands started shaking, balls started going in different directions and being dropped. Demelza's fingers had been broken by Bludgers far too many times than she wanted to remember and she'd kept the Quaffle in her hands all the same, scoring or passing when she could.

Lachlan was safe-- for now, hopefully. He'd had such reason to run, and she was only-- she was only, what was she? She didn't do enough, never did, only spoke out when she wasn't in Britain.

"Gwenog's rolling us into the dirt as usual," she responded automatically, trying to think at what else to say that wasn't dismissive or ignorant. "Love it all the same-- just not always at the end of the day, when my body adds up everything and tacks it to a Quidditch-aged body."

Sh swallowed,bringing her hands down that she'd raised, as it to grasp his shoulder and not let go to convince herself he wasn't an illusion. "Is-- is there anything I can do? In general? You know I'd do anything--"

At times Lachlan could not believe the situation he was in. Here he was running for his life and there was no guarantee each day he would be safe. As far as he knew, no had placed any kind of tracking charm on him and he lucky in that sense but he was a hundred percent sure. He just had believe that no one would find him. He was sure that if he kept away from major public areas then he would be safe. At least in eastern Europe he was a little safer. However the Death Eaters had close ties to the region given that Durmstrang was here and many of them hailed from there and when Voldemort had gone into hiding this is where he had been rumoured to be living or hiding.

The man hoped that this would all be over soon and his life would return to normal. Maybe he was dreaming, he was not sure but he knew that this was not how anyone was supposed to live their life, regardless of what blood flowed through them.

There were so many things that he was unsure on. This was not what Lachlan was like, he was normally more certain and more collected. But this situation had him worried and scared. He had never been scared in his life, let alone being this scared.

It was a pleasant surprise to see his friend here. He was glad that fate did work in his favour sometimes. At least her talking about her Quidditch was giving him a break from his worries. He chuckled. ”That’s good though, Dems, I mean you’re doing what you love and that’s what matters in the end, am I right?” he questioned, arching a brow and glancing down at her.

Lachlan didn’t know what the witch could do for him. A thought came to mind but he didn’t want to voice it, it was his pride overriding his action, yet again. ”Do, do you have any money on you?” he asked lowering his voice. He just had to eat, a decent meal, he hoped that she wouldn’t see that as selfish.

Maybe it was that it had been too long, and she felt like she wasn't doing enough. Maybe it was that she was so scared that things would be like they had been when she was fourteen. Whatever it was, she--

She half-wanted to weep, but she knew she couldn't. It wasn't even her in danger, it was her friends, some of her closest friends, and she needed to help in whatever way she could. It was-- if she didn't, what kind of person was she? What kind of person could she ever be?

"Yes," she said at once. "I am, some of it. But-- you know me, Lach. It's not enough, never enough if I can help a friend."

Money.

Yes, she could do that. That was easy, that was so easy. She could--

"Lunch, or-- or dinner," she said, trying not to wring her hands. "I'll disguise myself, take you out. A good meal." Or what if-- "Maybe you too? We'll be in the Muggle world, I'll exchange Galleons. So no one recognizes me. Are you in a good place to stay? If not, can I also help you with that?"

Galleons, she had to spare. Quidditch players often spent a lot at a time, and large transfers of Galleons into Muggle money were common enough for her. Perhaps not as large as what she'd do, but it wouldn't be out of the ordinary. "Tell me more, and you know I'll do it."

Lachlan could have seen this happening to him or his fellow muggleborns. It was a complete turn around from how things had been a few years ago when the the Death Eater camp had been in full swing. But the fire at the work camps should have been the trigger for what was going to happen. When it had taken place, there had only been hints of it in the archives or in the many different prophecies which the unspeakables had stored in the hall of prophecies. Still, everything that followed, the ministry take over and the registration lead him to be where he was right now.

He was never able to tell who he would run into or if he was going to see someone he knew. He was hiding in Eastern Europe at the moment and he was only likely to see people who travelled for these parts. Of course he should have suspected he would run into a Quidditch player. However, Demelza was one of the few players he knew and saw regularly. The others he had gone to school and had thought would go onto a career in the sport had long lost touch with him.

As she spoke of helping a friend a surge of guilt hit him and he tried to make it appear so that it didn’t show on his face. She had been out here possibly partying and here he was asking her to help him. This was not the Lachlan she was accustomed to seeing but given his circumstances, he was far from his usual self.

”Dems….I can’t ask you to do too much for me” he said as he gently pulled her aside and away from a street light. ”You can just give me some money and I promise you as soon as I can get my hands on some I’ll pay you back” lachlan smiled at her. Demelza would know he would be true to his word given how long they had been friends for.

"It's not too much, Lach. It's too little-- look, you helped me when you came back the last time, okay? I--" she gave a sort of laugh. "I was out for most of the battle, but it took until a good way of the year through the next year before I could stop hearing Avada Kedavras in the wind, or I could walk the hallways. You were the best help with that."

Him and Dennis and Ginny. She'd seen someone die, she'd cursed Harper, she'd gone to attack again, and when she'd opened her eyes, the Battle had been over for two days. She'd been missing, and Natalie had been killed, and so had Colin, and so were the students just before and after her Sorting. Attendance had been jinxes to the gut when it was time for graduation. Natalie wasn't near MacDougal, and . .Ariana Robbin, Devon Roberts, Sarah Riverts and Max Robards. She'd shared a House with Devon, Ariana had been an occasional Herbology partner, she'd never gotten along with Max but they respected each other, and Sarah had been her main Transfiguration rival. But until then, Demelza had been safe, for all that her father's line was extremely unknown. There were half-bloods dragged off to Azkaban, after all, and Robins was a Muggle name. It had been the Arundell name that prevented Demelza from fearing Azkaban, kept her confident they wouldn't kill her during the hell year at Hogwarts, because she had magical blood and everyone said they'd rough you up, curse you, bleed you, flay some part-- but death?

That was for those on the run, for Dennis and Colin and Lachlan and Devon. She'd been safe, somewhat, far more so than others, and she'd half-forgotten they'd take it out on her family until people started staying in the Room of Requirement. She'd been among the last to join, belatedly remembering Skye.

"I mean it, really-- I do."

Being labelled as a mudblood was not something that Lachlan was unfamiliar with. He had gone to Hogwarts during what some would consider the height of Voldemort’s existence. He had seen things, he hoped his kids never had to witness. He had no children, not yet, but he hoped that once this was all over, he would meet someone, not immediately but eventually and they would have a family. He had wanted that for a long while and this whole registration business had made his want all that even more. Sure he had his family but he wanted his own family, his own magical family. He assumed he would be marrying a witch one day and not a muggle. It would be easier, for him to marry a witch given that they would have more in common.

Some time ago he used to have things in common with Demelza too but their career paths had taken them in different directions. It was so comforting for Lachlan to have run into her. He really wasn’t expecting. He had gone weeks without seeing anyone he knew. Sure he had seen wizards and witches but they were all foreigners who probably didn’t have much interest in the welfare of muggleborns in the UK. Lachlan didn’t want Demelza to feel sorry for him or to feel guilty for being able to get on with her life without any worries.

He recalled clearly what state Demelza had been in during the battle. All of them had suffered in differing levels, no one had been immune. ”Dems..” he trailed sighing before jumping as a muggle ambulance raced past them, probably on the way to an emergency. ”Okay, we can go out for a one meal….I suppose I'm dressed in okay for it. Aren’t I?” he questioned as he looked down at his outfit. ”We can go somewhere muggle...if you don’t mind” he smiled a, blushing a little. It was rare for a man of his stature to blush but he didn’t want to make demands on where they ate. It was not his place. After the meal he would be sure to get away soon so he didn’t draw any attention to Demelza or himself, it was safer. He knew that it would likely upset his friend but she had to understand it was just his way of protecting her still, even to this day.