Everyone was ecstatic to see Seamus again, and we were besieged by a group of young men and women, wanting to clasp his hand, trade stories and start plotting.
"So, Seamus, this is the beautiful young lady you've been telling us about," the boy I recognised as Neville said as spotted me standing at the back of the room, watching Seamus interact with his old friends. It was a great site. I blushed at the compliment from the man who I took to be the leader of the group. Seamus, however, choked at the man's words.
"I'm Corrine," I said, holding out my hand for him to shake.
"Corrine Isabella Mathers," he finished, shaking my hand, grinning. "I know exactly who you are."
"Thanks, Neville," Seamus said sarcastically, regaining control of his speech.
"Perhaps you two had better go take a shower. That looks like a nasty cut, Corinne, I'll take a look at it for you," he noticed, sniffing Seamus and spying the large gash I had sustained four days ago on my upper left arm.
"Thanks," Seamus said, perfectly sincere this time.
"Go on, kid, you go shower. I'll get my first aid kit," Neville said, turning about and walking to the cabinet that no doubt held the first aid kit.
"You go first, Corrie," Seamus offered quietly.
"No need for chivalry here, Finnegan. You smell worse than I do anyway!" I insisted.
"Yeah, but I know you've been hankering for a shower for weeks. You take first," he said, taking my hand to squeeze quickly. I smiled at the gesture.
"Shower's through here," a girl said, leading me to a bathroom. "My name's Catalina," she introduced herself.
"Corinne," I replied.
"Seamus missed you," she told me. "He missed you a lot. He talked about you all the time, and then one of the Carrow's found out about you, so he took an awful risk to get to you before they did. I imagine he got there scant hours before they did. It was awful."
She saw me visibly pale.
"Oh nothing to worry about. They wouldn't have done anything to raise suspicion. Neville went and intercepted your parents before they could be met by them, and they're in a safe house in France, I believe."
"Thank you," I whispered. She blushed.
"Now, now, you'd best get cleaned up. I'm sure your belongings are all filthy. Six weeks! Heavens! Luna and I will wash all of them, and the shower and everything should be fine. If you need anything, just think hard about exactly what it is, and the Room will grant it."
"Seriously?" I asked.
"Seriously," she amended, amused. "I know. It's awesome. There'll even be a clean towel and some clothes in there, I bet."
She opened the bathroom door, and we were met by a small, cramped space with a basin and a toilet, and a small bathtub. I grinned anyway. Catalina frowned.
"Don't be cheeky," she said. I turned, shocked. What had I done? But she was looking at the ceiling. Was she… scolding the room? "She's new. Give her a proper bathroom, please."
The room seemed to fold, and then unfurled before our eyes, and a grand bathroom was revealed. A huge bathtub the size of a swimming pool was in the centre of the room. A shower that was easily ten feet high was in the corner, though, and that was the first thing I saw. My jaw nearly dropped.
"This is incredible."
"Enjoy," she said, pushing me in, then looked at the ceiling and folded her arms, crossed. "Do as she says."
I walked to the shower dimly and began to strip. I turned on the water and smiled as the heat immediately filled the room. I stepped into the shower and sighed under the hot water.
I began to scrub my body and my hair. I groaned at the dirty water that was disappearing down the drain. How could I possibly be that filthy? What had we done? Surely sleeping where we had slept hadn't caused this?
Oh, who was I kidding, when you sleep on the side of the road for six weeks, you turn this colour. I had thought I was getting a tan. I watched sadly as my bronzing skin turned fair again.
Some shower gel appeared on the shower shelf, which I gratefully used. "Thank you," I said cautiously to the room, not knowing the proper protocol for a room that showed compassion and humor.
"You're welcome," I heard a voice say. I might have jumped out of my skin if I hadn't known that voice as well as I knew my own.
"Seamus!" I said, very aware that I was standing naked under the jets of hot water, and Seamus was just some opaque glass away from that.
"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I know I shouldn't be here, and I'll leave when you get out, but it makes me… anxious to be away from you now."
I smiled, feeling the same way. Very carefully, I opened the glass door about two inches, and stuck my left hand out. I felt him take it, and I squeezed.
"I'm still here," I told him.
"Good," he told me.
"Seamus, would you get me a towel please? I think I'm ready to get out," I said quietly.
"Oh, I'll just go, then" he whispered.
"No!" I insisted. "Stay, please. Just pass a towel in here. I want you to stay with me."
I heard him walk a few steps, then a soft cotton towel appeared at the door. I opened it a few more inches, careful to stand behind the glass where I could not be seen, and took the towel with a thanks. With a blush I was glad Seamus couldn't see, I noticed that this shower would accommodate two people, though possibly it would be better if they stood quite close together most of the time.
Drying carefully with the soft white material, I fastened it around my body securely, and opened the shower door.
"Your turn," I said, exiting the upsized shower. I noticed that he, too, wore only a towel. In the few hotels we stayed at, we'd only risked the showers in three. We'd established that the easiest way for the second person to have a hot shower was to go directly after one another, while the water in the taps was still hot. He quickly dived in to the shower and closed the door all but about four inches. He dropped his towel through the crack in the door and turned the water on, closing the door. I sighed and hung the soft cotton towel on the towel rack by the door.
I noticed the stack of clothing on the bench – one for me, and a second stack for him appeared as I watched. I carefully dressed and was beginning to brush my hair.
"Corrine?" he asked.
"Yeah?" I said, brushing the knots out.
"The water's still dirty," he sounded embarrassed.
"We haven't had a shower in about three months, Seamus. What did you expect?"
"Right. Good point. Corrine?"
"Yeah?" I said, wrestling with one particularly stubborn knot.
"You okay?" his tone changed.
"My hair is being crazy. What did you want?"
"Oh, I was just going to say 'don't leave'," he said.
"Trust me, I won't," I said, frowning at my hair. "My hair refuses to comply."
"We haven't had a shower in three months, Corrine, what did you expect?" he mocked me.
"Don't use my words against me!"
Then, a bottle of detangler appeared on the counter. I laughed at Seamus.
"What?"
"Detangler!" I grinned, spraying a generous amount all over my disobedient hair, leaving it to settle for sixty seconds like it said to on the bottle.
"Oh, right, side with her," Seamus said, obviously talking to the room. "Alright, I'm getting out now."
"Your towel's on the rack. I won't look, I promise."
I closed my eyes and sat on the ground of the bathroom.
"I wouldn't mind," I heard him say. For a while, I heard him potter around the bathroom, obviously drying off and dressing and what not. "Alright, I'm decent," he said, I opened my eyes and stood, picking up the brush again. He came over to stand behind me and placed his large hands over my slender piano hands, and gently took the brush from my hands, snaking his left hand around my waist.
"Allow me," he whispered, and carefully brushed through the knots of my hair. I smiled. I might have leant against him if he were doing any other activity than brushing my thick black locks.
"I love your hair," he murmured in my ear. "So soft." He put the brush back on the counter and rubbed his right hand over my now smooth hair. I did lean against him now, and put my hands on his left hand, which remained around my waist. My eyes fluttered closed as I felt his face in my hair.
"You smell like freesias," he whispered.
"You smell clean, now," I replied. "It's so much better than when you smelled like old pizza."
"We'd better…" he whispered, almost in a gasp.
"Yeah, I replied, cringing at the thought of what they might say when we returned outside.
"You okay?" he asked, suddenly worried.
"The others…" I muttered.
"I wouldn't worry about the others if I were you," he assured me. "Come on. Uncle Neville can clean that nasty cut for you."
Exiting the steamy bathroom, we were met by another flurry of voices and faces.
"Did you see anyone?"
"What was it like?"
"Why do you look like that?"
"Are you together?"
"What happened?
"Guys!" the stronger voice announced his presence. It was clear that Neville was indeed taking the lead within the small community of renegades.
"Sorry," someone mumbled.
"Corrine? Seamus? Come on over here. We'll look at that cut and… have a chat," Neville said. The crowd, obviously knowing what that meant, dispersed quickly.
We went to the source of Neville's voice. Indeed, he was sitting at the head of the large table, examining some documents that lay before him. He waved me over and began examining my arm as I sat on the desk. Seamus stood loyally by my side.
"So," Neville said, not taking his eyes off my arm. "Seamus, I take it you followed the rules?"
"Rules?" I asked, looking at Seamus expectantly.
"Stringently. It took me six weeks to get her back here without anyone figuring her out."
"Good," Neville said, frowning at my arm, dabbing a green substance on it carefully.
"Rules?" I asked again.
"Sleeping on the sidewalks, not being recognised, all that jazz," Seamus said, brushing it off.
Then something clicked inside my head.
Or, rather, it didn't.
"Hang on," I said, staring at Neville intently. He still kept his eyes on the gash. "You're here. Catalina said…"
Neville looked up expectantly. "Catalina said you went to intercept my parents. She said you took them to France. That's even further away than Ireland, yet you got back before us. A lot before us. You've been back for ages, I can tell. Why?"
"I couldn't leave these guys!"
"Yeah, but it took us six weeks to get here from Ireland. It must have taken you far longer to get back from Ireland if you followed the rules!"
"I have a very different set of rules," he said as though it were obvious.
"Why?"
"Because my magic is far less distinguishable," he said.
"What?" I asked, then turned to Seamus. "Your magic is different to his?"
Neville laughed. He actually laughed. A real, true chortle of a laugh.
"Seamus? Dear god, girl, Seamus and I share thoughts. Our magic is almost identical. I was talking about the incredibly dangerous, ambient magic that resides in your power!"