A Change of Heart

A New Beginning

Harry slammed the thick book shut and threw it angrily into the corner of the room. Sighing, he rose from his lazy chair and stepped into the light of the large window which looked out on the canals of Amsterdam.

"No luck, little raven?" said a low voice that still made Harry twitch- in a good way. "Dolf is convinced that the books will contain information about your tattoo. And darling, luckily it's not like the tattoo has continued to spread, besides you haven't had any crazy nightmares-"

"The book was just a big disappointment," Harry said with a pout. He willingly let his betrothed pull him to his strong chest, enjoying the heavy weight of Rabastan's chin resting on his dark hair.

"Darling, we have time. We're just waiting for a breakthrough," Rabastan said with a tender smile.

Harry stared absently, failing to register Rabastan's words. However, he liked having his warm body against him, it gave him a certain peace of mind. "It's just fuckin' unfair," Harry muttered softly.

"What's unfair, darling?"

"Some people dive into cupboards and get Narnia; I got a thin mat to sleep on and sawdust in my eyes when my relatives used the stairs. Fuckin' unfair."

Rabastan's massaging movements stopped. Rabastan's breath paused as he digested Harry's information, before letting out a booming laugh. His dark curls tickled Harry's nose, which immediately broke free from his betrothed's embrace. A rebellious pout formed on his face and Harry folded his arms.

"I just don't see what's so funny," Harry said in a stern tone.

Rabastan couldn't help but smile broadly and tried not to coo conspicuously at Harry's cute face. It didn't help, however, that Harry had started a beard growth, which resulted in tufts of hair on his jawline in the weirdest places. Tufts of hair that Harry was particularly proud of and refused to shave, something Rabastan found extremely endearing.

"Dar-darling," Rabastan managed to sputter. "Your brain works in such a wonderful way that you always manage to amaze me. But tell me, what is Narnia?"

Bright green eyes looked fervently to the dark ones of Rabastan. "I just said that, Narnia is a fuckin' disappointment. Just like this conversation!"

Harry turned back to the drizzly Dutch weather and stared at the people cycling over the small, uneven cobblestones that graced the street. Harry was amazed to see a woman who managed to put three children on a single bicycle and also managed to cycle away without any problems. The people here were loud, there were always people on their feet, and there always seemed to be parties. In half an hour Harry had already seen three bachelor parties bawling on the street and a large group of bald men with red and white shirts drinking large mugs of beer. Amsterdam was crazy, but nobody seemed to know the name Harry Potter, and even fewer people seemed to recognize him.

Leaving moody Harry alone, Rabastan turned, arms outstretched in despair, to Remus, who was reading in the far corner, near the fire. "What is Narnia?" Rabastan hissed softly at the calm werewolf.

Remus did not look up from his book and replied undisturbed: "Narnia is a fictional country. The Chronicles of Narnia is a book series written by a Muggle, telling the story of children who play a central role in the history of Narnia, a place where animals can talk - a talking lion takes a prominent role - and where magic is an everyday phenomenon."

Rabastan blinked in surprise, processing the information. "Why is he so mad about a cupboard? What does that have to do with Narnia, which," Rabastan made quote marks with his fingers, "is a fuckin' disappointment ."

With a sigh, Remus looked up from his book and looked at him with a straight face. "The closet is the way the children access the land of Narnia."

Rabastan looked over his shoulder at the pensive figure of Harry, then looked back at Remus. "Aha... Right... And why is that a disappointment?"