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Harry hates these things.
A mixer.
He has seen the bowels of hell and still he can’t think of anything worse.
He tells himself he’ll be there just for an hour, maybe even half that.
A breath of relief as he sees across the room a familiar face in Professor Marks. A fellow comrade to weather the storm. He makes his way across the room, focused so much on his destination of safe refuge that he doesn’t notice her walking in front of him until they, quite literally collide.
He is a flurry of apologies and mumbled words, as she tells him it’s fine, but his words stop when he looks up at her. Cool brown eyes meet his own and he swears the room stops for a moment, even though he is sure there is no magic at work here.
“Really it’s okay,” she assures him again, putting a hand on his arm.
It’s not. His drink has quite clearly spilled on her dress and he fishes in his pocket for his handkerchief, offering it to her.
“Thank you,” she says with a gracious smile, taking it from his hand and blotting the stained material with it,"I thought handkerchiefs were a thing of the past.”
“Well, I'm a traditionalist,” he replies, as she hands him back the handkerchief and he places it back in his jacket pocket.
She takes a final look down at her dress, seemingly satisfied with the clean up, before meeting his eyes again, “I’m Macy.”
“Harry,” he replies, offering his hand to her which she takes in her own and gives a strong but short shake.
“You seemed in a hurry,” she comments as she takes another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and hands it to him, before taking another for herself.
“Thank you. I was going to talk to my friend.” He takes a sip of his drink, an attempt to calm his nerves but it has no effect. “Professor Marks.”
“Oh,” Macy looks over at the elderly male over by the bookcase who gives them both a small wave. “I don’t really know anyone here.”
“Me either really.”
“But, my Phd supervisor said it would be beneficial for me to be seen here. To get to know some of the other departments.”
“I believe I may have been given a very similar pep talk from my department head.”
“You teach here?”
“Women’s Studies.”
“Oh,” she answers with a hint of confusion crossing her face.
“I know.” It's a normal reaction to his profession.
“Well you know since we don’t really know anyone else here, and you seem relatively normal.”
“Thank you” he says with a tip of his glass.
“Maybe we could keep each other company.” She flashes him a smile and he finds himself nodding along, despite the voice in the back of his head that tells him that he needs to remain on the peripheral. That little flutter in his stomach that he has as she smiles back at him isn’t for him.
It never will be.
“I don’t know Harry,” Macy says eyeing the plate that the waiter has placed in front of them with suspision.
“Trust me, it’s a delicacy.” He says leaning in a little closer, fighting the temptation to wrap his arm around her, closing the distance even further in the small booth.
“Toast with cheese sauce?”
“Well it doesn’t sound like a delicacy if you say it like that.” She had picked the place for their first date. Her arm wrapped around his as she excitedly pulled him into the English style pub in the main street.
He should have said no when she asked to meet up for tea the day after the mixer. He shouldn’t have asked to meet her the next day either. And dinner? Dinner should have been out of the question entirely.
He had skimmed the menu and eagerly ordered for them, eager for a taste of home and to be able to share that with her.
“Okay, okay, I’ll try it,” she gives him a wary look as she picks up a piece, tilting her head to examine it carefully before she takes a bite, the cheese stringing out as she pulls the toast away. Harry watches her face carefully, but she gives nothing away while she gives slow deliberate chews.
She swallows the mouthful, and places her finger on her chin as she continues to hold him in suspense.
“Come on Mace,” he exclaims, unable to wait any longer.
Her facade breaks into a smile, “It’s pretty good.”
“I told you,” he says, relieved, and he gives into the temptation of putting his arm around her, and pulling her closer and pressing the briefest of kisses against her cheek.
“I love you.”
Three words that he longs to hear and yet, the weight of them is crushing. He tells himself that perhaps the Elders have forgotten him, he is just one whitelighter and it has been months since their last contact. Maybe they think of him as broken, since it happened, and this is a type of retirement. Naive, perhaps, but it gives him some hope.
He brushes his thumb across her cheek, getting lost in her eyes, feeling something that he hasn't felt in such a long time.
Happiness.
“I love you, too.” The words tumble from his mouth as he presses his lips against hers again.
He knows it cannot be good news from the elders when Charity is the one who steps through the portal that appears in his office. They always send her when they need to soften the blow. They sent her when he was sent on ‘extended leave’, to deliver the news about Fiona. So when she enters his office, with her face betraying no emotion.
“You’ve been assigned Harry.”
His heart sinks at the prospect of him being called back to duty after so long, just when he feels that things could be normal. And then his thoughts turn to how he is going to tell her that he is going. That he will need to disappear just like that, with a flimsy excuse and no forwarding address. But there is also a fear there, that they may know.
He gives a curt nod, as he continues to place his things in his bag, most likely for the last time. Forcing his hands not to shake as he does so.
“The Charmed Ones, their powers have been unbound and they need guidance.” The Elders have been talking about the Charmed ones for as long as he can remember, scouring the prophecies. If their powers have finally been unbound then something big is coming.
“They will have it.” He assures her. Maintaining his calm facade, the picture of complete obedience. He will hide her if he needs to, there are cloaking spells, things he can do to make sure that they don’t come after her.
“There is a complication.” Charity says as she approaches his desk, and his heart stops dead.
“They know Harry, I know. About Macy Vaughn.” His body stiffens when she says her name and his mind is racing with what they might do. He has seen first hand what the Elders can be capable when it comes to the mission. Just how expendable the mortals can be for the greater good.
“I won’t let them do anything to her. I can end it. If it means they will leave her alone.”
“She’s a charmed one, Harry.” Charity can’t even meet his eyes as she tells him. “The lost sister. It’s her.”
“Then.”
“We will need to erase those memories. Her memories of you. It would complicate matters.”
“And we all know how much the elders hate complications.” Harry says unable to keep his tone level. He chose to lose his memories, so that he could become what he was now. Macy wouldn’t have that choice.
“When?” he asks, regaining control of his tone.
“It will come into effect by sunrise tomorrow. The spell has already been cast.” Charity tells him unable to meet his eyes. Harry gives a nod, as he feels the stinging behind his eyes knowing that he has already lost her.
“Take mine as well.”
“But,” Charity starts.
“No, I can’t do it. I can’t live with those memories every day, knowing what we shared, while she loses them.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Charity replies, before she opens the portal, she turns back to him before stepping through, “You should say goodbye.”
His phone buzzes in his jacket pocket, as he raises his hand to knock at her door. A message from an unknown number.
‘It’s done. C.’
He braces himself against the door, letting the news wash over him. Knowing now that this will be their final night, together. He takes a deep breath and knocks on her door.
“I have great news, exciting news.” Macy says as she opens the door and sees him there. She is buzzing with excitement and Harry can’t help the smile that crosses his face to see her so happy, before the reality seeps in again that come tomorrow this will all be gone.
“I got in to the Fellowship at Hilltowne. They want me at their lab. Their work is renowned and I will be right there.” She still had the paper clutched in her hand and presented it to him, her face beaming. He is looking at the letter when she moves back to the kitchen, checking on whatever she has in the oven.
“And before you worry about doing the whole long distance thing,” she comes back over pulling the paper from his hands and putting it on the counter beside them, wrapping her arms around him, “They have a vacancy, in the Women’s Studies Department. It’s perfect.”
She places a brief kiss against his lips, and his thoughts come back to her. The way she feels in his arms. He holds her closer, before he presses his lips against hers again. Deepening the kiss, cataloguing every feeling and sensation. The warmth of her lips, the little gasp of surprise as he does so.
How her fingers grip onto the material of his jacket, her hair underneath his fingers, and the overwhelming feeling of something that is meant to be. She pulls back when the timer of the oven goes off.
“Ooh,” she rushes out of his arms to the oven carefully pulling out the tray and placing it on the cooling rack. “I made us something special to celebrate.” He looks over at the tray and the triumphant smile on her face.
“Welsh Rarebit.”
She shifts in his arms as they lay in her bed, sheets tangled. He watches her as she sleeps, trying to remember every part of her, before they take it all away. He looks at the clock again he knows he has to leave.
The spell will take effect soon and he can’t be here when it does.
He’s not sure whether it is selfish, not telling her the truth. That as soon as she leaves here for Hilltowne her life will be changed forever. He takes comfort in the fact that he will be there, despite not having his memories of what they have shared, that he will ultimately protect her.
Instead, he allows himself to lose himself in the happy memories that will soon be lost. The way she smiles at him, the way she will turn into his chest to escape the cold as they walk together to the campus and the way she looks at him. Like someone in love.
He shifts carefully not to disturb her as he sits on the edge of the bed and puts on his clothes. Leaning over to place a final kiss on her forehead, “I love you,” he whispers.
Taking one final look as he leaves.
He can’t quite put his finger on it.
That feeling in the pit of his stomach when she smiles at him. The jealousy he feels when she speaks of Galvin.
But, the first time he convinces her to try his Welsh Rarebit it feels almost like deja vu.