February 10, 1977
3:47 am
The Blind Pig
The entire club was confused as to how the character of Queenie Goldstein leathally staring down a goblin, daring for him to move first in their card game changed in an instant when no one had said a single thing aloud.
Anneliese was smothered in the warm pink fur before she even had time to blink, Queenie wrapping her in an embrace without saying a word, elated that the girl she considered a niece was back home.
"Oh, darling, you look freezing!" she exclaimed, pulling off her golden scarf and wrapping it around Anneliese's shoulders. "And skinny! What have they been feeding you at Hogwarts? Someone get this girl some Exploding Bonbons- thank you dear."
Callaway was completely flustered by the sudden stream of questions and platter of pastries now in front of her, and it appeared that everyone else previously just playing cards at the table was as well.
"Who is this girl?" a warlock asked gruffly. "Is she even old enough to be in here?"
Queenie seemed to just then realize that all of the table was looking at her with confusion, and gave her audience a winning smile as she gripped Anneliese by the shoulders to turn her towards the crowd.
"Everyone, this is Anneliese Callaway, Anneliese Callaway, this is everyone," she said warmly, her voice raised to reach over the clamor and music of the club. "And honey, are you old enough to be in here?"
"Well, uhm-" the blonde started, but was quickly cut off by another question as Goldstein's green eyes widened in concern as a thought hit her for the first time.
"Wait a damn minute, why in the name of Merlin are you here?" she asked with panic. "Did you get expelled from Hogwarts as well? Did something bad happen? Did someone die? I swear if that old man Dumbledore did something, I will personally-"
"No, no, nothing like that," Anneliese reassured her. "Well-"
She cut herself off, dark blue eyes flicking around the crowded table. Nearly all of the attendees were intently listening to their conversation, and it occurred to Anneliese that it would be better if she could get some privacy so that Queenie could understand everything clearly.
"I think we need some more quiet than this," Callaway said softly, the weight of the situation suddenly hitting her as emotion rose in her throat. "I-I can't think with all of this noise."
I can't not think about him, Anneliese thought. I can't do this, I can't.
Queenie heard the panic in A's mind whether the teenager had wanted her to read it or not.
"Come on, doll," she said, standing up from the table. "Any of you can play for me, just take my cards. They're rather good as well, so bet high."
There was a quick rush to grab the cards, properly providing a distraction.
Anneliese quickly followed behind Goldstein out into one of the more private, luxurious side rooms of the bar, thankful that Queenie knew the place and owner well so that they could go almost anywhere they wanted within the club without any trouble from one of the disguised bouncers.
"Sit, sit," the older woman instructed as she patted the velvet cushion of a dark green couch, still moving with the grace of someone much younger. "Now tell me, what brings you here?"
The music a room away became muffled with the privacy, chatter reduced to merely background noise.
Callaway sat down on the couch, her weight making her sink down a few inches into the plush fabric. Even though she knew that she should feel relaxed, Anneliese's shoulders instead refused to not be stiff, her hands staying either clenched or rapidly moving to try and soothe herself.
The sudden weight of her abrupt decision hit her in a blur, one that made her head spin in a mixture of relief and regret that she was finally away from Hogwarts.
I shouldn't have left him.
"Stop reading my mind," Anneliese said through gritted teeth. "Please."
"You shouldn't have left who?" Queenie prompted, ignoring her request. "What boy?"
"Oh, just the one that told everyone about my parents abandoning me," she snapped back, the anger at Black and not Goldstein. "The entire fucking school knew this morning, and he was the only one that I told. Which means his stupid ass told someone."
"Oh dear," Queenie sighed. "And remind me why you told him in the first place?"
"Because I trust him!" Anneliese cried, standing up from the couch after only sitting on it for a few seconds. "And yes, I know that I'm using present tense!"
She paused for a second as her breath shook, hands tangled in her blonde hair.
"It doesn't make any sense, Queenie! I have such a hard time trusting people, but even after this boy breaks the trust I give him again and again, I still fall over and over!"
"Well, why do you think that is?" Goldstein asked thoughtfully, adjusting slightly on the velvet couch. "Just let it all come out, dear."
"I don't know why I trust him."
Because I love him.
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD, QUEENIE!"
"It is very clear to me that you are running away from this boy because you are terrified of how he makes you feel!" Goldstein exclaimed back, refusing to let Anneliese shout at her as she stood up as well. "Am I wrong?"
"Obviously not!" Callaway replied, eyes watering. "But it's just pain, Queenie! Pain is the only thing that he makes me feel besides the occasional.."
Anneliese faltered for a moment, holding the back of her skeleton tattooed hand to her forehead.
"He makes me feel safe," she said, her voice turning to a whisper. "He makes me feel like I can be weak and that he's going to be there. Like I can relax finally, because he's going to be there when I wake up and make sure I'm fine."
Queenie's severe expression at being shouted at softened with the desperation in Callaway's tone.
"But then I also feel like I can't stay still," Anneliese continued, not really talking to Goldstein anymore. "I feel like it's dangerous, like anythin could happen at any second. It's this weird balance of adrenaline and stayin on my toes while also being so at peace. Does that even make any sense?"
"It does," Queenie replied with a nod. "But why on earth would you run away? That feeling is something you should chase, not flee from."
"Not when it makes me do bad things."
Anneliese reached into the back of her waistband, the dark green leather notebook present with her even then. With shaking, freckled hands, she placed it in Queenie's palm for her to figure out herself, the explanation almost too difficult to say.
Goldstein took it with hesitancy of what she would find inside.
Callaway watched as her green eyes flicked across the pages and then narrowed in confusion.
"I've never seen any of these spells before," Goldstein said slowly. "You didn't.. you didn't make them, did you?"
"I did," Anneliese replied. "And they're no good either. They almost all made.. they're almost all made to defeat the light ones. They're dark magic."
Finally saying the truth after denying it for so long made Callaway sit down at the sudden feeling of her legs turning to water in her muscles.
Queenie sat down next to her, the calm coming over the room once more. The older woman gripped Anneliese's smooth hands in her creased ones, the two American blondes looking at one another with understanding.
"I have never told anyone this part of my life before in order to try and keep it in the past," she said slowly. "But I think that you need to hear it."
Queenie breathed in deeply.
"When I was less than ten years older than you, I made a very bad decision."
Anneliese looked up from their hands with teary eyed confusion.
"I had just, like you, run away from the boy I loved. His name was Jacob Kowalski," she continued. "I was just running, trying to find something to hold onto that wasn't him, terrified of how he made me feel."
Goldstein swallowed forcefully, the memory painful.
"I ran all the way to France to try and escape him, just like you ran all the way to America. Before I could find something to hold onto, something, or someone else found me first."
"Who?"
"Grindelwald."
Callaway inhaled sharply.
"The dark found me, Anneliese," Queenie said, holding on tighter to her hands. "And I barely made it out alive. I refuse to let the same thing happen again to you with this notebook. I know that running feels like the right thing to do, but I swear, don't do it."
"But I can't look at his stupid grey eyes without feeling weak," she whispered back, tears now going down her rosy cheeks. "I can't go back there without thinking about what it would be like to have him."
"Are you implying that you want to kiss him?" Goldstein asked, a slight grin forming on her face.
"That's one thing," Anneliese muttered, a smile unwillingly coming onto her face. "But I also don't know if he'll ever look at me the same, even if I do go back."
What if he hates me? What if I hurt him one too many times, and he's just given up on anything ever happening between us? Callaway thought. What if he's glad that I'm gone?
Queenie silently knew that she couldn't guarantee any of those things weren't true.
But it didn't take a mind reader to see that Anneliese loved this boy with the grey eyes.
February 11, 1977
2:03 am
Gryffindor Boys Dormitories
The other four boys in the Gryffindor sixth year boy's room with Sirius were starting to get very annoyed at the scratching of the quill against parchment keeping them from sleeping for the past four hours.
A pile of crumpled up pieces of parchment was resting on the carpet haphazardly next to Sirius's feet, all messed up attempts of his one letter to Anneliese he just couldn't get right.
His sculpted features were flickering against the candlelight with a warm glow, lighting up his grey eyes as they narrowed to reread the first few sentences of his latest attempt to phrase perfectly the emotions in his head.
"Why is this so hard?" he asked to no one in particular, slamming down his fist on the oak desk. "Why?"
"I have a better question for you," Frank grumbled into his pillow. "Why are you still awake? It's been four hours, I think you would have written the perfect letter right now if you're ever going to."
Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Remus cut him off.
"I have a third better question," Lupin declared, staring up at the ceiling after giving up on sleep entirely. "How the fuck is your hand not cramping?"
"It is," Sirius replied. "It feels dead."
"Welp, easy fix," James said from his bed, face flat down on the mattress. "STOP WRITING THE NOVEL SO WE CALL ALL GET SOME SLEEP."
"I would like to see any of you try to do this," Black said back to them. "My hand is literally shaking. This is the last chance I have to reach her if I can't go with Dumbledore, and I can't fuck it up."
"Tough," groaned Peter, even the usually supportive friend exhausted. "Sleep."
"I just can't believe that someone heard us in the library," Sirius sighed, running a hand down hair face, making a smudge of ink appear on his cheekbone. "And then went and told everyone."
"I can," Remus replied morbidly. "This school is so consumed with gossip that it's a miracle nothing like this happened earlier. If it helps, this was all a bit inevitable."
"No wonder she blames me," Sirius said, turning back to another blank sheet of parchment. "I was the only person she told if it weren't for that blasted cloak."
"Hey, don't come for the cloak," James defended, sitting up all the way in bed to protect his child. "It never did anything to you."
"Ah, but it did," Peter said with a yawn. "Maybe Sirius just should have said something more direct the second that he overheard that conversation in Dumbledore's office instead of fucking up A's life. That would have prevented everything."
None of them could deny that Pettigrew was right, and Sirius simply started writing again.
Dear Anneliese,
god im so excited for you guys to read the letter
2.1k words
what do you wanna see?
VOTE! - it rly helps
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