The Founders

Chapter 55

The exams inched closer and Kyra couldn't help letting that stress override her existential stress about the fate of the magical population. It had been such a long time since the last attack and although she was still training and researching, her mental space was being increasingly taken up with exams.

Reflecting on this, Kyra sat astride a broom stick in front of the goal hoops a few days before exam week started. The quaffle was on the other end of the pitch, and Grace was yelling at Oscar to catch it. Kyra idly looked around, taking note of the cloudless, perfect June day. A gentle breeze ruffled the tree tops of the dark forest, making Kyra's hair tickle her face.

They all should have been revising, but they were sick of being stuck inside all day for the past few weeks. Besides, according to Alexander, you performed better if you were relaxed. Kyra had made some kind of inappropriate response.

There was a sudden cry from the other end of the pitch and Kyra saw Kat rolling off her broom onto the ground, clutching her arm. Kyra raced down to her, jumping off her broom stick and kneeling beside her frantically as the others all flew down as well.

"Kat, did you break something?" she asked.

Kat took a shuddering breath, cradling her arm. The skin around her wrist was swollen and purple, hanging limply. "My wrist, I think. Shit, the quidditch match," she wailed, her eyes starting to well up.

Kneeling down beside her, Oscar pulled her other arm over his shoulder and lifted her up. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing." Looking over his shoulder at Kyra, he nodded his head at the broom sticks discarded on the ground. "Can you clear up the equipment?"

Kyra nodded, worried, and watched Oscar take Kat up to castle.

"She'll still be able to play next week, though, right?", she asked Alexander as Grace crossed the pitch to pick up the quaffle.

He shook his head from where he was gathering the broom sticks discarded on the ground. "I don't think so; even after you heal it, you can't put stress on something broken for at least two weeks after." He glanced up, asking, "Did you see what happened?"

Kyra shook her head, picking up the remaining broom, which was her own. "I think she was diving for the snitch and overshot. She's going to be so angry at herself."

Grace hurried back, carrying the box, now complete with the quaffle, bludgers and snitch.

"Do you want me to take it back to the changing rooms?" Kyra offered.

"Thanks," she responded, handing over the heavy, metal bound box. She hurried off after Oscar to the castle.

Kyra and Alexander walked slowly towards the changing rooms. The air was saturated with golden light and it fell softly on one side of the wooden cabin that they were approaching.

Alexander shouldered open the door and held it open for Kyra. She set the box down on one of the benches running the length of the cabin, before sitting down beside it and watching Alex.

Alexander let the door drop shut behind him as he opened one of the cupboards used for storing the brooms. Once he had put them all away, he clicked the door shut and came to sit beside her.

She stood up and held his gaze as she straddled him, running her hands through his hair and leaning back. He smiled and gripped the backs of the thighs so that she was more comfortably settled on him. Resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck, she said nothing for a moment.

She closed her eyes and asked tentatively,"Do you think that it's selfish for me to be so happy at the same time that so many lives are at risk? Like, I should be miserable, otherwise I'm a horrible person?"

He pulled back so that he could see her face, a line creased between his eyebrows. "I think you're the least selfish person I know. I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else does," he spoke earnestly.

She said nothing, only gripping the back of his shirt more tightly. He stroked a strand of hair behind her shoulder and looked as though he were hesitating.

"What is it?" she whispered.

He glanced up at her and asked her, "Do you remember that time in Hagrid's cabin?" She nodded. It seemed so long ago, now, but the memory was still as clear as ever. "You said that you were sometimes angry at your parents for leaving you, but that maybe it was a good thing, since you wouldn't have belonged with them anyway?"

She fiddled with a thread on his robes. "Yeah."

He shifted and cradled her back with his hand, running a hand comfortingly up her spine. "I thought about that a lot. And I think I get it."

She looked at, her eyebrows drawn and her shoulders tense.

"You like to think of yourself as selfish so that you can convince yourself that you were never good enough to be with your parents, that you didn't belong with them, and that it was sort of for the best that they died when you were so young. And you'd rather be angry at your parents, because the alternative is mourning them and accepting that it's a tragedy, because you did belong with them, and you're not with them anymore."

He paused, slightly breathless and looking at her earnestly. "I think you're the most selfless person that I know, and I don't care if that makes you Hufflepuff or Slytherin or whatever, it just makes you you."

He brushed her hair back from her face. She ducked her face in his shoulder, shaking and he held her more tightly.

Eventually, she raised her face from his shoulder. Holding his gaze, she very deliberately raised her lips to his until her breath ghosted against his. He raised a hand to her cheek, brushing her cheekbone, his eyes tracing his movements.

Then he lowered his hand to her jaw, holding her face gently. Very slowly, he pressed his lips to hers. It was open mouthed and slow and heady, and Alexander groaned, gripping her thighs so that she shifted closer. She could feel how much he wanted her through the moulding of his clothes. Kyra tentatively bit his lower lip and he slid his hand into her hair, tugging gently.

He moved his lips to her throat, slowly kissing wet kisses down to her collarbone, and she leaned back breathless, running her hands through his hair. Then he lifted his head and sealed their lips again, swollen and damp now, running his tongue along her lower lip until she squirmed and shifted forward on his lap. He stilled suddenly, pulling back, his eyes dilated.

"Kyra, I - I don't," was his stilted response. Frustrated, he paused and began again, looking up at her with very dark eyes. "I don't want to take things too quickly with you. I want to do it right."

He ran a hand through his hair in agitation, his movements jerky. "God, I want to do this without having to constantly worry about someone trying to kill you. Or trying to kill all muggleborns, or trying to kill at all." He was breathless, looking blankly at her shoulder, panic in his eyes. Focusing on her with difficulty, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I want you. Just- just please- I don't know how to do this."

Kyra put her arms around him, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I do. We just wait, and when we finally deal with this disaster, we'll have time. Just for us. And we can do it right."

They sat there for a long time, not saying anything as the light outside the window turned purple and then blue.