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August, 1927
"SO, YOU'VE GIVEN UP?"
Holden approaches Circe, who is sitting on the roof of her flat building. She sits on the edge with her feet dangling, enjoying the view, although not very high. The witch turns to face the Auror, smiling thinly.
"I told you a few months ago, didn't I?" she asks him.
"Yes, but I thought you were joking. I didn't think you meant it when you said you're not trying to find a way to get your father out of Azkaban anymore," he says, joining Circe on the edge of the rooftop. He connects his hands in his lap, staring at them. "Why?"
Circe purses her lips, shrugging. "Because even with Theseus Scamander's help, I wasn't getting anywhere," she sighs. "I— after my mother and Scylla basically scolded me for talking to Theseus in the first place, I had a lot of time to think, you know ... not getting out of bed and all, and all I could think about was the fact that I didn't do anything in the months of trying to find something. They didn't even have to say anything for me to know that they were right."
"Oh, Circe," says Holden, looking at the woman.
She smiles. "It's fine. Plus, you know how Scylla and my mother are. You've met them," she says, shaking her head dismissively. "They're fine now, I mean, we're fine ... I talked to them and they apologised. Besides, it's been months."
"You need to stop pretending that the way they treat you doesn't hurt you, and that it's absolutely fine," says Holden, worried for the woman he once loved as more than a friend. Biting the inside of his cheek, he puts his arm around her shoulder.
Circe leans into the touch. "We barely see each other anyway. It doesn't matter." She shakes her head.
"It matters to me." Holden gives Circe a significant look, sighing. He kisses the top of her head, drawing shapes on her arm with his finger. He wishes he could do more than just offer her emotional support and comfort, but if the Head Auror cannot make Scylla or Aera see sense, then what chance does he have, if he were to confront them?
