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It was the smell that kept him coming back. The burn of the coffee grounds, the sweetness of freshly baked pastry that lingered. Old books and sunshine. Apart from the serene life he led with his family, it was perhaps this part of home he missed most. The wizarding society in the United States aren’t nearly as elitist as it is in the United Kingdom. Nomaj life intersected with magical life in every possible way, though across the pond it was far more frowned upon to enjoy muggle amenities. Nevertheless, this coffee shop on a silent street at the edge of London had become a sanctuary for Raymond Reddington.
He didn’t notice her the first few times he popped in for his morning order. It was only when he sat down on a blustery afternoon, that he caught her reflection in the window. She was the new Auror, not English, he remembers Dembe mentioning in passing. He hasn’t had the time to properly speak to her during this first week, Auror Jefferson left a trail of paperwork as long as the great wall in her wake, and he was forced to deal with it.
He’s on the brink of deciding to ignore her presence and introduce himself to her tomorrow at work, when her gaze snaps up and catches his eyes in the reflection. He supposes that he has no choice but to move his introductory plans up a day. She studies him with rapt attention when he decides to approach her, her eyes moving over every inch of him, resting on his face when he comes to a stop at her table.
“Auror Keen, what a pleasure.”
Their desks are pushed together facing each other. Reddington is incredibly talkative, almost always chirping up with some story about a guy he knows that came from somewhere. It makes it hard to be productive, but some days, she welcomes the distraction. Applying for a job halfway across the world and immediately boarding a plane when the job was offered to her was impulsive, to say the least. After Tom’s betrayal, when she realised all of their friends had really been his friends, and with Sam gone, there wasn’t anything keeping her grounded. She figured that England would be fresh and new, and different and foreign. Now she’s partnered up with an American who constantly reminds her of the home she left behind.
In the week that she’s been here she has:
Eaten lunch by herself in a broom closet 3 times.
Been startled by Reddington’s sudden appearance at her shoulder 6 times.
Cried herself to sleep 5 times.
Caught 3 criminals.
Made 1 friend. Or rather, been made a friend of one person.
Reddington takes charge on missions, he is the senior officer, after all, and they have been going fairly without incident.
It’s 4.45 on Friday afternoon when he rounds his desk to perch on hers. He folds his arms together over his chest and peers down at her. She patiently lays her quill down beside her report and looks up at him, expecting another anecdote. He surprises her when he says instead, “Join me for a drink tonight.”
Reddington is surprised by how easily he seemed to convince Elizabeth. Her initial reluctance didn’t last especially long, and he remembers his first few, lonely months in this foreign land. If only someone had asked him on a night out, he might have transitioned better.
He takes her to a small, underground pub. Although it is situated in muggle London, it’s owned by a wizard, and has a slew of magical regulars. It’s a nice way to enjoy both sides of this city, and he thinks she’ll like the atmosphere.
He has a booth in the corner of the room reserved for him every Friday night. With a lazy wave to Dave, the barman, he leads Liz over with a steady hand on her elbow and lets her scoot in first before making himself comfortable next to her.
A young, bespectacled man approaches them, wearing an apron and brandishing a notebook and pencil. Liz doesn’t have a second to contemplate a drink before Red is boisterously ordering two butterbeers. Liz knows that English and American cuisine differs in quite a few respects but butterbeer sounds awful. Nonetheless, she doesn’t want to make a scene, so she smiles at the waiter, and turns her attention to Red.
“Maybe next time you can fill me in on the available choices before ordering for me?” she raises her eyebrows at him.
He merely laughs and pats her hand where it rests on the table.
Liz huffs, put off by his arrogant assurance that she’ll like whatever he’s ordered. Tom used to make plans without her agreement and made her feel like a terrible, ungrateful brat if she dared to complain about it, and she’s really hoping not to repeat that experience half a world away.
The steaming mugs of butterbeer arrive and Red takes a long drink, closing his eyes as he swallows. “Mm, tastes like Fall,” he says with a thin line of foam resting atop his upper lip, before swiping it away with his tongue, and looking at her expectantly.
Having no idea what to expect, and zero frame of reference, Liz scrunches up her nose and takes a sip. Her eyes open in shock when an exquisite taste fills her mouth. It does taste like Fall. Buttery and sweet, like curling up in front of a fire with woolly socks and a favourite book. The “wow” that leaves her is entirely involuntary and she’s put out by this response.
“There’s nothing like butterbeer to warm you right up. It’s one of Britain’s finest inventions, to be sure,” Reddington says, before taking another swallow and peering at her from the rim of his glass.
After her initial irritation wanes, the conversation flows freely, and more butterbeer is ordered. This results in a lovely flush rising to Reddington’s cheeks, and she finds herself softening towards him from this simple, involuntary rush of blood alone. He never asks her why she’s here or if her move is permanent, but keeps conversation to lighter topics like her childhood and her hobbies. By the end of the night, when they don their scarves and coats, he helps her into hers and smooths his hands over her shoulders before stepping away.
“We’re going to make a great team,” he says, before apparating and disappearing from her sight.
She doesn’t cry herself to sleep that night.
A moment before a bright stream of light flashes part her face, she hears Reddington’s booming, “Expelliarmus,” and an unseen wizard to her right is unarmed. She turns with the commotion and fires a body binding curse in the floundering criminal’s direction. She has no chance to thank Red, as he’s already pursuing the other perp, his coattails flapping behind him as he rounds a corner.
When both their targets have been transported to the ministry, she resolutely walks over to Red to thank him. He’s still breathing heavily but he smiles when he spots her. Feeling overcome she grabs his wrist and mumbles a quick, “Thanks for having my back,” before apparating, and practically running to their office once they’re back in the building.
Red is left scratching the back of his neck, smirking after her.
“Word of a threat among the staff at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry has caught our attention. Auror Reddington, Auror Keen, we need you to go undercover at the school as a,” Cooper glanced at the file open in his palm, “Charms Professor, and a Potions Professor. Discuss among you who will take on which position. We need you at the school by start of term which gives you 3 weeks to get your affairs in order. Perhaps brush up on your subject in the meantime.” He nods to where they’re standing with a firm, “Dismissed.” The Aurors start filtering out of the briefing room, leaving Red and Liz together.
She’s rubbing at her scar, the friction colouring her wrist a bright red. Her worried contemplation is interrupted by a hand on her forearm, Reddington is smiling at her. Leading her to the door with his hand still warming her arm, he says, “Undercover missions in Scotland are exactly the same as undercover missions in DC. You have nothing to worry about.” She wants to reply but he has already turned to head to their office.
It’s not just the mission she is worried about. While the gap between American and English wizarding education has certainly decreased in modern times, there are still many discrepancies. She’s going to have to cram 5 years worth of schooling into her head in 3 weeks. And Reddington will be her partner which creates a whole host of other problems. There’s no denying that he has become a touchstone to her, and her feelings are warming by the day. Being cloistered in a school with only him to rely on for company and support is surely not going to help her cause.
A room in the ministry’s basement has been cleared out for them to brush up on their potions. Two cauldrons sit side by side, a long, worn bench in front of it, and upon it countless ingredients – everything they might possibly need to make any and every potion.
They’ve decided to study up on both Charms and Potions to see who’s better equipped at what. Red suggested that they follow an alphabetical list of basic potions for the first week, before they move onto the trickier charms that are not commonplace in their everyday lives. Amortentia is accordingly first on tonight’s menu.
Red is waiting for Elizabeth, who had informed him that she might be running late tonight. How ironic then, that they would be brewing a love potion together, when she has been stirring up long dormant feelings of affection within him. After their impromptu meeting in the coffee shop that day, they have been getting along exceedingly well. They have mastered the art of silent communication in a matter of weeks, and are currently leading the amount of arrests in the office. She’s more determined than any of the partners he’s had in the past, and he’s constantly reminded of her brilliance when her quick thinking gets them out of a tight spot. This upcoming mission fills him with equal amounts of dread and anticipation. Maybe, when they enter a more informal setting, they’ll get to know each other better, and she might come to see him in more than just a professional light. On the other hand, if she doesn’t, he’ll be stuck, far away from his home, pining after an impossible woman who will continue to impress him.
When she arrives, he plasters on a smile and jumps straight into the activities for the night. They amass the ingredients together, neatly lining them up before their cauldrons. They work as a team, passing first rose thorns and then moonstone between them. Once the signature spirals start rising from the brew, they take a step back, anxiously eying the bubbling mixtures.
Elizabeth laughs nervously, “I haven’t made this since fourth year. It might not come out right,” she admits.
Red’s furrowed brow mirrors hers when he says, “Neither have I. And I was in fourth year 20 years before you. Let’s see how it goes.”
Taking a step back to her cauldron, Elizabeth cautiously sniffs at her mixture. She’s not sure she smells anything out of the ordinary. Mint, leather, books, rain. That’s what any room that Red’s in smells like. She says, “What does yours smell like?”
Red bends down to inhale. He smells nothing. Just Elizabeth’s subtle perfume and citrus. He looks at her with a raised eyebrow and moves over to her pot. Taking another whiff, but getting nothing new. He shrugs and says, “I think both of us must have made a mistake. I don’t smell anything.”
She runs a hand through her hair and sighs. On to the next one then, hopefully they won’t have to teach the students how to make this. Though, she’s not sure how smart it is to teach a bunch of impulsive, hormonal fourteen year olds how to make an extremely powerful love potion that smells exactly like the person you’d like to give it to.
Raymond was less than pleased when Cooper told them they’d be travelling to Hogwarts with the students on the train. To “blend in, as best as possible” apparently. He arrives early and avoids eye contact with the bustling children and other Professors. He does a quick sweep of the platform, though, clocking any suspicious goings on that might need to be investigated later. He saves a booth for himself and Elizabeth at the very end of the last car.
She arrives and looks immediately taken aback, from his vantage point. Her suitcases are large and cumbersome on her trolley. He reluctantly opens the window to his right and pops his head out. When she continues to look about frantically without spotting him, he lifts his hat from his head to wave it above him. Only when the movement catches her eye, does she seem to relax. He sees her hand the trolley over to a man in a red cloak and board the train. When she finally arrives at the sliding glass door, she’s smiling, and flops into her bench with a sigh of relief.
She gestures to the throngs of people populating the narrow platform and says, “It’s a nightmare out there.”
Red’s eyes crinkle when he laughs gently at her. He says, “You’d think that the parents would know to show up a little earlier, but it seems British wizards have very poor time management.”
She smiles at him, even when he looks away to stare down an eager first year who wanted to enter their space. Elizabeth admits to herself that even she would scamper away if he turned that cold stare on her. However, when he looks back at her, his eyes are soft and warm again, and this mission seems less daunting for having him as her partner.
The ride goes as smooth as a century old, magical steam train can go, and she finds out that her fellow Auror has a sweet tooth to envy her own. He insists on paying for every chocolate frog and buys a box of Every Flavour Beans that he devours – each new flavour resulting in a different expression crossing his face. She can’t help but giggle when he bites into a bean and a shiver wracks his whole body. Expecting a horrible flavour like dirt or mucus, she’s surprised when he grumbles, “I hate pistachios.”
Near the end of the journey, Red dozes off. His head resting against the window and jostling with the ride, but he doesn’t notice. Elizabeth takes this quiet moment to examine his features. The fine wrinkles framing his slanted eyes and his light, golden eyelashes exaggerated by the setting sun; it’s last rays flowing over lush green countryside to rest upon him. His lips are pink and slightly pouted. He has smooth skin; his cheeks and chin seem like they’ve never needed to meet a razor.
She’s heard the sneers of her co-workers at the way Red dresses. His pressed suits, and wool vests seemingly too uppity and American for them to understand. Looking at him now though, with his stiff collar slightly pressing into his neck, and his tie bobbing along with his breathing, she can’t really imagine him in anything else. His outstretched legs are crossed by the ankle, and his polished shoes gleam in the light from where they’re resting next to her own feet. Her gaze travels up the length of him, and when she arrives at his face, his eyes are open and he’s staring at her.
Instantly colouring, she shifts in her seat and stares out of the window for the rest of the ride.
He helps her from the train with a hand on her elbow, ever the gentleman even when he doesn’t need to be. They’re whisked away by a Slytherin student, and he’s still holding onto her arm. Every now and then he whispers a random tidbit about the school in her ear, presumably to calm her down.
When he trips and yanks on her arm for balance, she turns and wraps an arm around him, pulling him up. His sheepish smile is betrayed by the surprised raise of his eyebrows. She teases him, “If you get injured before we’re even inside, I’ll murder you. You’re not leaving me here alone.”
He brushes himself off and straightens his waistcoat. He says, “I’ve survived worse than embarrassing myself in front of my partner and,” he looks at the rows of children behind him, “roughly 300 students.”
She laughs and takes his hand. Gripping his palm as a precautionary measure. At least, that’s what she tells herself.
The weeks tick by, and despite a few suspicious incidents, nothing extraordinary happens. Red is fantastic with the students, quickly becoming a favourite among them. He’s usually accompanied by at least one student whenever he’s walking the hallways, but makes sure to lean into Elizabeth’s classroom to say hello every time.
Adjusting to the life this mission has required has been smoother than Liz expected it to be. With Red as her constant companion, she has relaxed into her role as teacher in no time. Sharing a cottage in the village a mile from the school certainly helps. Every night they discuss their days over a plate of whatever Red decided to cook up. He’s inquisitive and supportive and Liz is grateful for his presence.
The way his eyes track her to her room after she says goodnight goes entirely unnoticed.
They’ve wandered quite a-ways from the school, and find themselves in a sunny spot next to the lake. Speaking in hushed tones, they discuss the intel they’ve managed to gather so far.
Red goes first. “So, there have been three suspicious mishaps in the three weeks we’ve been here. The first was on the night we arrived. A group of first years got lost and one of them had to go to the infirmary for an injury.”
“His name is Edward Euston. He broke his leg and scratched his face on some branches when he stepped in a hole next to the forest.” Chewing at the edge of a nail, she frowns. “Why would the first years be over at the forest on the first night? Who took them there?”
Red has no answer so he moves on. “Then, a week ago, on the trip to Hogsmead – we should go next time, Lizzy, I’ve only heard good things—” he smiles, but her raised eyebrows tell him to get back to the story. “Right. On a trip to Hogsmead, a fifth year entered Madam Rosmerta’s in perfectly good health, and was carried out with a nose that wouldn’t stop bleeding.”
“That was Bill Hardwick. No one could tell me how his nose stared bleeding.”
“And finally,” Red sighs, yesterday’s events still puzzling him. “Yesterday, a girl from second year fell from her broom for no discernible reason, and hit the ground. She broke her arm and a few ribs.”
Liz is still chewing on her nail. “Angela Trent. Headmaster McGonagall told me that everyone in the vicinity tried to break her fall, but none of the spells worked.”
Her thoughts are interrupted when she tastes blood. Looking down at her hand, she sees her thumb as started to bleed from the incessant chewing. Red artfully pulls a handkerchief from one of his many pockets and takes her hand in his. He dabs at her insignificant injury.
“You don’t need to be nervous, Lizzy. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” He removes the spotted cloth and inspects her hand. He gives it a satisfied pat before standing and holding out a hand to help her up. Grasping it for a few seconds longer than necessary, he looks into her eyes and says, “Everything will be OK.”
He’s on his way to the great hall for lunch when he overhears the conversation between the seventh years in front of him.
“Just watch. At the end of this year, I’m going to ask Professor Keen out. I’ve seen the way she looks at me.” A tall student in a red scarf brags
His two friends snigger. The one on his left, a blonde boy with braces says, “Oh yeah? And how exactly is that going to work? With her being married and all?”
Red is not the only one who is confused, as the tall boy scoffs and indignantly replies, “She’s not bloody married. Who’s she married to?”
The short boy on his left pipes in, “Professor Reddington. They arrived together by train and spend all of their free time together. They’re definitely married.”
The blonde boy says, “Yeah, Richard said he saw them holding hands by the lake the other day, and Susan said she went to see Professor Reddington the other day, and walked in on them kissing. And have you seen the way they talk to each other, and look at each other? I don’t know whether it’s sweet or sickening.”
The tall boy isn’t having it. “Bollocks,” he says, “By the end of the year we’ll be together, just watch.” But he seems a lot less self-assured than a minute ago.
Red really can’t do anything to stop the grin from lighting up his face as he turns and makes his way into the Great Hall. When Liz sees him she’s immediately infected by his happiness and smiles brightly back at him.
“You must have heard some great news to be smiling like that, what happened?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.
He chuckles, but says, “You overhear the most wonderful conversations among students sometimes,” and leaves it at that.
The festivities are well underway when Red finally shuffles his way through the crowd of professors to drop down into the seat Liz has saved for him. Her smile falters when she looks over to him and sees that they aren’t supporting the same team today.
Disdainfully lifting up one end of his emerald and silver scarf she says, “Seriously? You’re supporting Slytherin? Why?”
He laughs at her apparent distaste and points at a chaser who throws a ball with all her might to score another point for Slytherin. He says, “This is the best team. And the Slytherin students asked me.”
She’s disbelieving when she says, “They asked you to support them?”
“Yes,” he says, ignoring her huff and eye roll. He says, “Who would support the team who are known for their wits?” He tugs at her blue beanie.
“I like Ravenclaw! Don’t be mean,” when he laughs at her pout, she looks away with a frown.
He’s about to tease her even more when Ravenclaw scores and she stands up to cheer. She tells him to shut up and watch the game once she’s seated again.
Red’s eyes are focused on the sky, where the Slytherin seeker has disappeared in pursuit of the elusive snitch. His concentrated squinting is interrupted when Liz tugs on his arm. He doesn’t respond to her teasing, scouring the sky to see if his team will be the victors. But when her grip on his arm tightens and he hears his name fall from her lips, he finally turns his attention to her.
She leans over to whisper to him. “Can you see what’s happening over there?” She points to the opposite stands where the rowdy students are seated. She continues, “I swear I just saw a flash of—” Light shoots from behind the stands straight into the air.
The professors are already anxiously making their way toward the mysterious source. Red and Liz follow behind the crowd, both thinking that this occurrence would likely make their list of suspicious happenings. Surely, as they round the back of the stands, two students are surrounded by their peers. One Gryffindor girl looking smug, while another sits with her head hanging between her knees, breathing heavily, and clutching her side.
“What on earth has happened here?” McGonagall’s voice cuts through the fray.
He’s hunched over, his fingers working at his neck, cradling a glass of firewhiskey when she approaches him that night. She rubs a comforting hand down his back before taking a seat next to him on the couch.
“Why do these kids keep getting hurt? Who’s doing this? Why?” He sounds distraught and his eyes are glassy when he looks at her.
She doesn’t say anything, merely takes his hand in hers and laces their fingers. She says, “Everything will be OK.”
They sit for hours. Until Red’s glass is forgotten, and his head falls to her shoulder in rest.
She finally figures out the connection in class one day when a student mentions going to Indonesia during Christmas break. After the period, she can’t get to Red’s classroom fast enough. He’s locking his door as she approaches, and she doesn’t give him a chance to greet her before she’s dragging him into the nearest empty space, which turns out to be a utility closet.
“I figured out the connection.” She whispers. “Between the children getting hurt.”
His eyes are wide and he nods for her to continue.
“They’re all from rich, powerful families. The Euston kid is Geoff’s kid! Geoff from work, from the Minister’s office. And Angela Trent’s mother is a member of the Wizengamot. And I’m pretty sure the Gryffindor from the quidditch incident is the daughter of an England player.” She pauses to catch a breath and sees her hands clutching at Red’s upper arms. She slows down and says, “I don’t know what this connection means but at least it’s something, right?”
Red sighs in relief. It is something. They’ve been stuck on this case for over a month now and any breakthrough is a good breakthrough. He says, “Lizzy, this is—” but is interrupted by a voice at the door.
“Who’s in there?” the voice demands a second before turning the knob.
Liz doesn’t hesitate. Her hands move from Red’s arms to his neck as she presses her lips to his. Caught off guard but quick on his feet, Red’s arms circle her waist and he turns them so her back is to the door. When a shaft of light falls over his closed eyes, he opens them to see a perturbed professor scowling at him. He smiles charmingly and says, “I apologise, Professor. We got carried away.”
He grabs for Lizzy’s hand and squeezes past the professor, hastily walking in the direction of her classroom.
Once there he bursts out in laughter. “Oh God, Lizzy. Thanks for letting me deal with that.” But when he looks at her, her cheeks are pink and she’s avoiding eye contact. His face falls, and his heart sinks.
He unclasps her hand from where it’s rubbing furiously at her scar, and takes both hands in his. He says, “Hey,” and pauses until she looks at him. “It’s okay. It was a good plan. We don’t have to talk about it again.”
She sighs and pinches her eyes shut. “Except now that Professor thinks we’re together, so we’ll probably have to keep up the act, anyway.” She moves away from him to pace the room. This is a disaster. They’re supposed to be focusing on the mission, but how is she supposed to do that when she instantly relaxed in his arms, and didn’t want the kiss to end. How will she be able to keep a straight face at dinner, and in front of their colleagues when all she wanted to do was slam him against the nearest wall and do it all again. She runs an agitated hand through her hair, punctuated by her frustrated sigh. “It’s fine. Whatever. We’ll figure it out.”
It’s on a trip to Hogsmeade that they really have to show off their acting skills. Surrounded by other teachers, and students alike, Liz’s compulsion to escape is almost overwhelming. A few Professors have come up to them to express congratulations and confirm the rumours that have been making the rounds. Red managed to eloquently handle most of the enquiries, but there were times where Liz was accosted when she was alone. They both agreed that in order to waylay suspicion and keep their cover, they would need to carry on with this act.
That’s how they end up holding hands while strolling through the aisles of an enormous sweet shop. Red is certainly taking on the role with gusto, whispering in her ear and kissing her cheek whenever the compulsion seems to strike him. Liz is more cautious with her affections, for fear of giving anything away. They’re not exactly close to solving this case, and there’s really no need to make things awkward for the remainder of their stay. So, she follows his lead, and laughs at his jokes. Perhaps she doesn’t mind it as much as she should, which is troubling.
When he asks if he can buy her a stick of brightly coloured, sparkling candyfloss, he delights in the blush that rises to her cheeks. He feels like a schoolboy on a first date, trying desperately to impress the girl on his arm. The number of colleagues that have come up to him with knowing looks and phrases like, “I knew there was something going on between you two,” is frankly ridiculous. He had a few days of panic, wondering if Elizabeth knew the extent of his feelings if so many of these strangers could see it, but she seemed in much the same state as he, so he left the issue behind. Now, though, he’s free to look at her with adoration in his eyes without arousing suspicion. It’s supposedly an act, after all.
They retire to the local pub with their glittering treat, and enjoy the blissful reprieve from the stress that comes with an undercover job. Liz, having developed quite an affinity for butterbeer, orders a pitcher for the table, and relaxes back into the vinyl seat covers.
Red is regaling her with stories of his time in England, intermittently sipping at his drink, when she places her fingers against his mouth, abruptly cutting him off and shutting him up. She can just make out the urgent, hushed conversation between two patrons a few booths over. When she looks around and sees how secluded this area of the pub is, her suspicions skyrocket. Red has shifted closer to her, and also seems to be straining to hear the angry words flying between the men.
The conversation centres around the one man needing more time and the other man needing it, whatever it may be, done now. The man in need of more time is uneasy, constantly shifting in his seat, and avoiding eye contact with the other man at all costs. Liz is sure that this has something to do with their case.
Red is getting antsy from the inaction, but trusts in Elizabeth’s instincts and follows her lead. When she suddenly gasps beside him, and attracts the attention of the angry customers, he takes a page from her book and kisses her neck. Hopefully the suspicious men will attribute that to her outburst. Ever the actress, Lizzy giggles and pulls him out of the booth by the hand, seemingly unable to keep her hands off him.
He’s anxious to get back to the school to find out what she discovered.
“One of the men was professor Thomas!”
Red is thoroughly confused. “The Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor? Why would he be having covert meetings with an angry Russian?”
Liz is pacing the clearing in the woods where she pulled him aside. It makes no sense to her either. She tries to recall snippets from the conversation that she heard. Thomas was worried about the children. Surely that meant that he was involved in whatever was happening at the school. She wished they could have stayed longer, but her loud exhalation ruined their chances. If Red hadn’t been quick, and they hadn’t left immediately, they definitely would have been caught out.
She runs a hand through her hair and says, “Thomas is involved. I know it. I didn’t recognise the other man, but I doubt he works at the school. Like you said, he had an unmistakable Russian accent.”
Her thoughts are all over the place. The persistent thought of Red’s hand on her thigh and his lips on her neck trying to constantly wrestle its way to the forefront was not helping. She would need to find out everything she could about Thomas so they can finally crack this case and go home.
Red watches helplessly as she gets lost in her thoughts, mostly keeping a lookout so they’re not caught unawares for a third time.
She’s still wearing the wool suit she greeted him in that morning when she barges into his room at 2am. She looks a little frantic, her hair is messy, and her shirt untucked. He takes the triumphant smile on her face to mean that she’s figured out this mystery. He’s still pawing at his bedside lamp when she sinks onto the bed beside him, her hip pressing into his through the layers of blankets, and it’s hard to concentrate for a moment.
The room is painted in a soft yellow light. Red rubs his hands over his face in a few hard strokes to wake up before turning his attention on her. She’s looking at him strangely, as if she completely forgot what she came in here to tell him. When he reaches out for her wrist and his forehead creases, she snaps out of it.
“I figured it out,” she says, but she’s exhausted.
He’s still looking at her in concern when he says, “You should get some sleep, Lizzy. You can tell me in the morning.”
She nods absently, her eyes glassy, and glazed over. When she stands, she sways on her feet, and his hand shoots out to grab at her arm just in time to keep her from stumbling. He pulls her toward his bed, opening the covers in invitation. She must really be out of it because she slips out of her shoes, and lets her jacket fall to the floor without a second thought. She’s asleep before he can pull the covers over her.
She wakes up with a pounding headache and feels uncomfortably warm. She also seems to be tangled in the sheets. But upon opening her eyes, instead of seeing a mass of blankets, she sees Red’s t-shirt covered back, tangled up in him instead. Unwrapping her arm from around his waist, she carefully slides out of bed, dons her fallen clothing, and silently closes the door behind her.
They need to wrap up this case urgently. She needs to spend some time away from him if she has any hope of not acting on her feelings. The pretend relationship they’ve fostered has tired her out, going from cuddling, and holding hands in one moment, to pretending that none of it ever happened, is jarring and uncomfortable. And probably half the reason for the tension headache boring a hole through her skull.
Red wakes up to an empty bed and wonders if he dreamt it all. But the side where she slept is rumpled, and he can faintly smell her perfume still lingering in the room. Deciding to grab the bull by the horns, he rolls out of bed, throws on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers, and goes to find her.
“Lizzy, good morning.” He startles her out of a daydream. She pours her water out of her glass into the sink and turns to smile at him.
“Hey, Red. Sorry for the intrusion last night,” she says with a self-conscious hand through her hair.
He pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and takes a seat, gesturing for her to do the same. “It’s no trouble, what did you want to tell me?” It’s probably better to get straight to the point, no use dwelling on the fact that they shared a bed.
“Yes, well, I figured out why Thomas was talking to the Russian, and why children have been getting hurt.”
“Go on, Elizabeth,” Red coaxes, he can’t wait to wrap up this case and get back to London. Maybe once they’re there, he can finally ask her out on a date. A real date. He’s tired of pretending.
She tells him about how she spent every free minute of the last week going through Thomas’s past. How she found out that he played for an amateur quidditch team situated in Norway, where he met Boris Kovaç, who also played for the team. They kept in touch over the years, and Kovaç started transferring money into Thomas’s account in the same month he started working at Hogwarts. She says that while this is all speculation, she’s almost sure that Kovaç wants to injure Hogwarts’ reputation, and he’s doing so by using Thomas to injure the students. “Students of families who have some standing in the wizarding community. If these parents band together against Hogwarts, the school doesn’t stand a chance.”
Red sits back in his chair, his eyes big and disbelieving, but impressed by the slew of information she managed to gather. “That’s incredible. Well done, Lizzy. Dare I say we might be out of here soon.” He doesn’t linger in the kitchen and retires to his room to get dressed. They need to let Cooper know as soon as possible.
The following hours are harried and they fly by, so once Thomas has been arrested and he’s back in their stale smelling office, he sinks into his beloved desk chair and chuckles his relief.
Raymond Reddington is happy. He successfully helped to wrap up a case, he’s back in his warm office with his feet on the desk and an unlit cigar rolling between his lips. When the door to their office creaks open and Lizzy peeks her head in her takes the cigar between his fingers and smiles at her.
He stands up when she comes to stand in front of his desk. He follows the movement of her chest when she inhales. “Thank you for supporting me, and having my back during this mission. I really appreciate it, Red, and I’m glad I had you as my partner.”
He feels an overwhelming need to be closer to her, so he rounds his desk and stills in front of her. He says, “You could have done it on your own, but I’m glad I was there to experience it.” He reaches out to take her hands, but she surprises him when she hugs him instead. All of her weight is resting against him, and he runs a hand over her back to settle over her hair. His eyes close and his head turns into the embrace.
There’s a moment of uncertainty when he pulls back from her, but inevitably he leans forward to kiss her. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like their first kiss in the closet, but infinitely better because it’s real.
“I’d like to take you out, Lizzy. Would you go to dinner with me?” He’s breathless but he looks into her eyes and knows he’s made the right choice by taking the chance.
“It would be my pleasure, Auror Reddington,” is her cheeky reply.
The End