He was the Director of Magical Security. He had worked hard to get where he was right now. He had worked so hard and the thought of all of that coming collapsing on top of him was slowly ruining him. He knew of the laws. He knew them and helped to set them. He was a powerful man. He had spent years after his time at Ilvermorny working his way up to the top. Well, he was almost at the top. Beneath the President was not a bad place to be.

He was not the same eight-year-old boy he had been when he had met her. He was not the same twelve-year-old boy he had been when he had returned home for the summer and snuck out to see her. He was not the same young man he had been at eighteen when he had wiped her memories of him. He had taken them so selfishly, but it was the way it had to be. If he wanted to continue in MACUSA then he had to do it.

He had to take them from her and make sure she never spoke about him to anyone. He had known at school that it was wrong to associate with No-Maj's. That didn't stop him returning home every summer and seeing her. He claimed that he was at boarding school and he was. He just might not have told her the entire truth.

It had almost been two decades since he had last seen her and he had to admit that he had almost been bowled over when he spotted her as he walked the streets of New York. The sun was beating down over the city and everyone was going on about their business, completely oblivious to the world that existed alongside theirs. He often found himself locked away in his office, having no time for walks or pleasure. But he had finished early for the first time in months and had found himself sick of looking at paperwork.

He had not expected to see her running across the road, dressed in a flowing dress that came down just beneath her knees. He had to stop walking and blink profusely, shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. It couldn't be her. How could it be? She should be in Chicago. The last time he had checked on her she had been in Chicago, working as a secretary to a bank clerk. That was five years ago now.

His memory must be playing on tricks on him. He must be overly tired. All of those suggestions made more sense to him than the other alternative. Perhaps it was her? Could she be back? He knew he was treading on dangerous ground when he followed her, his hands by his side as he wore nothing but his waistcoat, white shirt and trousers. His briefcase dangled by his side as he crossed the road, just as she had done. Stepping onto the street, he barely registered the sound of honking horns as he kept on walking. He didn't raise a hand in apology; instead he was too intent on making sure she didn't move from his sight.

Coming to the sidewalk once again, he stepped onto it and continued his movements down the pavement, not letting the woman in the red dress out of his sight. She was moving towards a man then, his arms outstretched to her as she lifted her own arms high, wrapping them tightly around his neck as he grabbed her waist. The man was tall, slicked back blonde hair on his head and dressed in slacks and a plain white shirt. He bent his head down, kissing the woman squarely on the lips as she tilted her head back from the force of his movements.

The man moved back for a moment, lifting a hand to push her shoulder length blonde hair from her face as she said something to him. He could only still see the back of her head, but when she turned he had no doubt who it was. How could he forget the face of the only woman he had cared for?

…

Percival Graves was not a man who minced his words. He was not a man who cared to pander to others or put their concerns above his own. He suspected his concerns were of more of importance. He was only concerned with doing his best for the wizarding community. He had no time for aurors who whinged or complained under his care. He had warned those who worked for him that their job would not be an easy one. Keeping the No-Maj world separate from the wizarding world was not an easy job, particularly so when there were those who sought to destroy what they had worked for.

But he couldn't focus on any of that as he looked at the paperwork on his desk. He could only focus on her. She was back in his mind after he had spent years suppressing her from his thoughts. What was she doing back in New York? What was she doing with that man? He must be her fiancé. Or perhaps she had married? Such an idea was not ludicrous. He had always found her rather attractive, particularly so when she had turned eighteen and seemingly left puberty behind.

She had changed slightly, but age changed them all. She had a few more wrinkles than before on her forehead, but her hair was still pure blonde. Her cheeks were still slightly too large framing her thin lips and wide eyes. She was still small and slender with impeccable taste in fashion. She always did dress well, but her mother always made sure of that.

How could he let this happen? How could he let himself spend every minute thinking of her? He had erased her memories because it had been the right thing to do. He had spent hours convincing himself that wiping her mind would be safe. She would be fine. She would move on. She would forget he ever existed.

But that didn't stop him from remembering her. Lillie Montford. He doubted he would forget her.

Slamming his fists down onto the desk in frustration, he took a deep breath, trying to tell himself that seeing her meant nothing. He could do nothing more. Looking into her and finding out more about her would not help him. It would only ruin him further. How could he do that? If the President found out about his little teenage infatuation then he doubted she would be impressed. No. It had been eighteen years. He had moved on.

…

Lillie Montford didn't know how she felt about New York City. When John had first suggested they move back to his home city, she had been apprehensive. She had lived with her parents in Chicago for all of her life, but her fiancé had been persuading. He had told her that she would love it in New York. He had even told her that there would be no need for her to find work.

She had told him that she wanted to. She had enjoyed her time as a receptionist. While her parents might have been socialites of the highest order in Chicago, Lillie had grown tired with the pretentious balls and galas. She had asked her father if there could be any chance of her gaining employment and he had helped her find work in the bank he managed.

Her mother had not been impressed, but there was nothing new there. She never impressed her mother, except for when she chose to accept John's engagement. She knew that she should have been married earlier. Women of her standing married young. They married into wealthy families who could care for them. But Lillie had declined every marriage proposal or courtship she had been offered. She had warned her parents that she would sooner move out and support herself than marry the first man who came along.

To begin with, she had suspected that John would be no different to the others. He was tall with a distinct cleft in his chin, his hair always neater than hers and his suits always well tailored and, no doubt, with a price tag that equalled their quality. He had a family who worked in the communications industry. Apparently business was booming in New York and John wanted to return to help his father.

How could Lillie say no? She had agreed to follow him anywhere he went. She loved him. That was all that mattered. It was all that she cared about.

She moved through the streets of New York, still growing acquainted with the city. Everywhere she turned there were people milling around, the noise of car horns followed her wherever she turned. It was all hustle and bustle, nothing like the leafy suburbs she was used to.

As she looked around, she barely registered the fact that she spun and walked straight into a man. Stumbling back, she felt his hand go to her wrist, stopping her from toppling over as his large fingers remained on her skin. It took a moment before she looked up, speaking hastily;

"I am so sorry," she began. "I clearly was not looking where I was going. I apologise."

She let her eyes meet his, unable to look away from the dark eyes that were framed beneath large eyebrows. His hair was also dark and slicked back stylishly, his suit clean and crisp and his jaw angular, his cheekbones jutting out.

"Yes, well," the man said, his tone short and almost curt as he let his fingers leave her wrist. "I take it you are not from here."

"I hope I do not stand out too much," she said, her lips pulling up as she kept on looking to the man who had a briefcase dangling by his side. "I just moved here with my fiancé. I am from Chicago originally…the suburbs."

"I see," he said and Lillie suspected that he failed to care where she was from. She should just move and continue on her way. That would be for the best.

"Anyway," she said, shaking her head, "I apologise for bumping into you…literally…"

"Apology accepted, Miss…" he trailed off and she spoke once more.

"Montford," she said. "Lillie."

That was all that he needed to hear. His eyesight was not playing cruel tricks on him. It truly was her. It was his Lillie. He kept staring at her for a few minutes, finding himself unable to look away from her gaze. Instead he found himself wondering if she had any recollection of who he was. It would be impossible, of course. She could have no idea.

"Well, I should be on my way," Lillie said, not quite understanding why the man was staring at her in such a manner. Backing away, she turned on her heel as he grunted out a farewell.

He had watched after her for a moment before turning on his heel. He was about to take his first step away before he heard her speak.

"Excuse me," she called out and he turned around, despite knowing that he should keep on walking away. Watching her move towards him, her hands clasped together in front of her and against the blue dress she wore, her eyebrows knitted together as she spoke. "I am sorry…but…have we met before?"

Yes, he thought to himself.

"No," he said. "Sorry, you must have me mistaken with someone else."

"Yes," she said, voice sounding weary for a moment as she seemed to go back into her thoughts. "I apologise again…"

"No need to apologise, Lillie," he said, using her first name as she turned to leave again, a hand going to her chin as she wandered off. This time he did spend longer looking at her leave. "Lillie," he whispered to himself. "My Lillie."

Shaking his head, he turned to go, this time knowing that he couldn't look back. He couldn't look back and let her memory haunt him. He kept on walking away from her, promising himself that he would not seek her out anymore. She was no longer his Lillie. He had to accept that.

…

A/N: Do let me know what you think!