The faint sound of thunder startled Bill. He looked around in time to see the flash of light in the west. Bloody English weather... It just figures. I better head inside, just in case. He dusted himself off and started down the hill toward the house. Before he reached the bottom, the wind started to pick up around him. Deciding it might be prudent to just make a run for it, he sprinted the rest of the way. Just as he reached the porch, huge drops of rain began to fall. Heaving a large sigh of relief, Bill silently let himself in the front door.

He was about to tiptoe up the stairs when he heard clinking noises emitting from the dining room. Going to the doorway, he peeked in to find his parents sitting at the table drinking tea and laughing over something. He leaned against the jamb, watching them for a moment. A smile played about his lips as he realised how much they still loved each other after all these years.

As much as he wanted to talk to his father, he had no intention of disrupting his parents. Instead, he decided to go up to bed quietly. But, as he took a step backwards to disappear into the shadows, he heard his mother say, "No, stay Bill. I'm going upstairs. I'll just make you boys a fresh pot of tea."

"But I don't want to both--"

"It's quite alright, dear. I was just keeping your father company until you decided to come inside out of the cold. Now give me your cloak and I'll get you a warmer jumper as well." Molly bustled Bill into the room and had him sitting down before he could protest again, then zipped off to the kitchen.

Arthur chuckled at his son's audible sigh. "No sense in arguing with her when she's determined."

"I know, I know. But I still have to try." Bill grinned. "Being complacent gets a bit boring at times."

"True."

Molly returned then with a large, fluffy jumper, a blanket, a tray with tea, and a plate full of biscuits. As Bill got up to help her, she set everything except the jumper down on the table and pulled the jumper over Bill's head. "Thanks, Mum," he said, his voice muffled from inside the thick wool. "I'll take it from here." Arthur chuckled more.

"Now, don't you two stay up too late. I will see you in the morning." After draping the blanket around Bill's shoulders, she kissed them both on the cheek and then went up the stairs.

Arthur regarded Bill as he stared at the door through which his mother had disappeared. He wondered how long it would take him to bring up the topic that seemed to be weighing on his mind. "I hope you don't mind that I waited up for you."

"Not at all. I was actually hoping that you would, though I didn't really expect you to. I sort of lost track of time when I was out on the hill."

"Nonsense," Arthur snorted. "You were not out there for nearly as long as you usually take."

Bill looked at his father, startled, and then he grinned sheepishly. "Well, I was just thinking about things."

"Mm hmm." He poured himself a cup of tea as he waited for his son's next move.

"You know the village?"

"Of course."

"I mean have you ever been there? Talked to the people?"

"Well, not really. Your mother and I went in once or twice, many years ago, but didn't stay long. The Muggles kept looking at us a bit strangely."

"After that meeting, I felt," Bill paused and shrugged, "overwhelmed with all the information. I wasn't ready to come home yet, to face everyone. So I just went out to the hill."

It took Arthur a moment to catch up to the topic shift. "Why not? You know you can always come home. What happened at the meeting?"

"That's just it, I can't tell you. Which is fine and everything, but for some reason all of a sudden not being able to share any of my concerns and fears just started to get to me. All the other missions and quests I have been sent on, while I knew there were risks, have never given me such a sense of," he made a brief gesture. "Of something. And so isolated. And the last thing I wanted was to go home to the people I care most about, only to have to hide from them what was running around in my head. And you would all know something is wrong. And I wouldn't be able to say anything other than 'nothing' or 'it's just work' which would set Mum off worrying and everyone else on edge because I would be on edge..." Bill trailed off.

"Well, I suppose that's true. But--"

Bill didn't let him continue. Indeed, he seemed to have not even heard the remark. "So as I sat there, looking at it, the same scene that I have seen for ages, I wondered what sort of people live there, what kind of community they make." Bill dragged one hand through his hair, rising from his chair and starting to pace. "Do you know, for twenty-five years, a quarter of a century, I've lived out here and I've never once gone down there. I've never once met and befriended the Muggles who live there. Have any of them ever walked up the hill to the grove so they could play ball games like we do? Do they look down and see our cottage nestled and secluded and wonder what sort of people could live there? Does anyone even know our house is out here?"

This wasn't what I was expecting. "Well--"

"What would they think, if they knew? If they knew what they think they know isn't really what there is to know because we decided that it would be best for them not to know and made it seem like there really wasn't anything to know about it anyway? All of a sudden? How do the Muggles who find out about us deal with their notions, their beliefs being thrown completely out of the water?"

"Well--"

"Is it even right to keep it a secret? I know that it is for our protection, possibly even for theirs, but is it right to deny them knowledge about something that is just as much a part of their world as it is ours?" As Bill projected all his confusion at the discovery of the existence of the Fae into his questions about the Muggles and their impression of the absence of magic, he became more frustrated and baffled at having not been allowed to know the truth from the start. I wonder if this is what Muggles feel like when they find out that magic is still in use. How could they tell me like that, just blurt it out? There has to be a better way, surely. Other wizards and witches have had to tell Muggles before. How did they do it? "How do I do it?"

Arthur was completely lost. "Slow down a minute, Bill. How do you do what?"

Bill stopped pacing and looked at his father. "What?"

"You were going on about the righteousness of the Wizarding secret, then you said: 'How do I do it?' Do what? Keep it a secret?"

"Oh, that. No, I meant how do I tell a Muggle about the existence of the magic."

Arthur blinked at his son. "Tell a Muggle? Right or not, Bill, you can't just go around telling Muggles about--"

Bill sat down suddenly. He perched on the edge of the chair and leaned toward his father, his whole stance one giant plea. "But, Dad, doesn't she have the right to know?"

Ah ha... now we come to the point. Arthur held back his smile. "She?"

Bill had no idea what sort of question that was. "Yes, she."

The smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "She who, son?"

"Katrin."

The smile came out in full force. "Ah. And who is Katrin?"

Bill dragged his hand through his hair again, pulling it out of its ponytail, then slumped into the chair. "She's a Muggle I met in the States while I was on holiday. She's actually what, well, who I wanted to talk to you about."

Arthur leaned back and regarded Bill again. "Oh? And what is she like?"

A slow grin covered Bill's face. "Oh, Dad, she's great. She's funny, and talented -- she sings and plays the guitar -- and she is really friendly and genuine. And her laugh! It's like bells or something. And her eyes, everything she says and feels is echoed in her eyes with the most incredible intensity." He swung his upper body down before getting up and pacing again. Arthur bemusedly watched his son go back and forth. "I know I am sounding like a complete sap, but I've never felt like this before. It's weird. And it's all so fast." He stopped suddenly, then hung his head and continued pacing. "No, you're right. I'm just blowing things out of proportion, that's all. We're too different. She probably just wants to be friends or something, was nice to me because I was by myself. I mean, even though we couldn't stop talking about everything that interested us, and she did email me back and would probably have done something later that week. At least, she seemed like she might have. She's over there, and I'm over here. And with You-Know-Who coming back... but I don't really want to think about that. Still, we might never see each other again. Right, we probably won't. So I shouldn't worry about it. Right? Not with where I'm off to later this week. And she had her family emergency. Maybe she was trying to avoid me. I was too forward. I scared her off. But she was too straightforward to lie, wasn't she? I mean, she had no qualms about threatening that Ector guy with the Barrel of Shame, so why would she have qualms about telling me to go away? So she probably really did have something come up and I'm just being ridiculous by thinking that she wouldn't. And the best thing to do is take it one step at a time; just try to get to know her. And Gringotts still owes me the rest of my holiday, so I can go back later. And maybe she would be able to come to England. She seemed interested in things over here. Right. I'll go into town tomorrow and find one of those Internet Café places she was talking about and email her that I got here all right. And then if things work out well after awhile, I'll figure out how to explain to her about the existence of magic without completely freaking her out." Bill finally stopped pacing and grabbed his bag from where he had dropped it on the floor. He clasped his father on the shoulder. "Thanks for your help, Dad. I'm off to bed." After he went through the door and around the corner, he stopped and poked his head back in the room. "Oh, and Dad?"

"Yes, Bill?"

"Please don't tell Mum about all this. You know how she overreacts to everything."

Once again, Arthur struggled to hold back his smile. "Of course, Bill."

Bill grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. "Cheers, Dad."

After Bill's footsteps quieted up the stairs, Arthur began to chuckle in earnest. Of all things... Poor Bill. As he cleared the table of the tea things, he thought over all that his son had said. He's got it bad. But there is more that is bothering him besides things with this young lady of his. Where is he going on his next mission? And what is email?