Déjà vu

[Julian Rossi]

5 November, 2005
Julian & Dorian Vignette

It hadn't taken long for news of the loose Boggart to reach the Headteacher's office, and though Julian had been repeatedly assured by the Auror Office that their department would handle it, he was not so easily dismissed. It was his school involving his staff and his students, and while he would not interfere in any official Ministry investigation, Julian would not be kept in the dark.

From the quick briefing he'd had with the Auror Dorian Innes this morning, Julian had understood that the Boggart and the fire, for they were somehow linked, had been released at the Great Lake by Kyle Winters, a seventh-year student. But there had been little time to ask questions as Julian had sprung into action to join the Aurors and staff in extinguishing the fire.

Now that the Boggart - or Boggarts, it still was not clear how many there had been - had been banished and the fires were out, Julian wanted to speak to those involved, and he wanted to start at the very beginning: the Great Lake. With Kyle asleep in the Hospital Wing, Julian made the trip across the castle to visit Dorian, on the off chance that the Auror hadn't yet gone home. Reaching the Octagon Tower, Julian knocked on the door that was on record to be Dorian's office.

"Yeah, just a minute," called a voice, and the sound of footsteps followed before the door opened.

As Dorian came into view, Julian held back the gasp that threatened to escape at the sight of the Auror's dishevelled appearance. He had been expecting a certain level of deshabille from an off-duty officer, and while he was not accustomed to seeing Dorian barefooted, wearing faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt, it wasn't the clothing that had shocked Julian. Nor was it the way Dorian's long black hair hung down to his shoulders, loose and unruly though he had been raking his hands through it for hours. It was the dark, hollowed look of Dorian's eyes and the haunted expression on his face that had Julian momentarily at a loss for words.

Quickly composing himself, Julian gave a friendly smile. "Good evening," he said. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping that we might continue our conversation about the incident that occurred this morning with Mr. Winters?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, okay," Dorian replied but still leaned against the door frame in a way that obstructed Julian's view into the office.

"We could go up to my office if you'd prefer?" Julian suggested, getting the impression that the Auror was uncomfortable with hosting him.

"No, it's not that, it's… well, come on in."

As Dorian moved aside to permit entrance, Julian stepped into the office and was once again taken aback by what he saw. The small office - standard for an Auror that lived off of school grounds - was tidy but completely cluttered without a spare inch to put anything. The desk did not appear to be in use, other than to store cardboard boxes, stacked high to the ceiling. The two armchairs were barely visible beneath piles of robes draped over them, and the couch, currently made up as a bed with blankets and pillows, was clearly being slept on.

"I… er…." Julian had lost his train of thought and turned to look at Dorian, who sheepishly averted his eyes.

"Sorry, let me just…." Dorian muttered, moving to tidy up. But there was simply nowhere to put anything, and Dorian picked up items and clothing only to put them back where he had found them. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said in an offhand manner, "I'd offer you a seat, but…"

"Are you living here?" Julian blurted before he could help himself, the question sounding blunter than he would have otherwise wanted.

"Well," Dorian grunted, "Aurors get housing, don't we?"

There was a defensive edge in Dorian's voice that had Julian raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course," he said swiftly. "You misunderstand me. This," he gestured around the small cluttered room, "is just an office. It isn't meant to be lived in. If I had known, I would have…." Julian trailed off as a horrible thought occurred to him. "You haven't been living like this the whole time, have you?"

"No," Dorian answered, in a would-be defiant tone if not for the choke in his voice. He swallowed and took a deep breath, then continued much more steadily, "No. My wife and I... we’re separated."

"Ah," replied Julian with dawning comprehension. He looked around the small office sadly; as Headteacher required to reside within the castle, his quarters had been comfortable when his own marriage had ended. "I understand."

"I've been looking for a place. But nothing has been… well… settled… and I've still got a mortgage to pay, so…."

"Say no more," Julian said, raising a palm and smiling in a bracing sort of way. While he couldn't give Dorian a raise - he was not his employer - he could at least alleviate some of the financial burdens that came with marital separation. "You can live here as long as you want, free of charge. Let's just get you proper accommodations."

Dorian fidgeted with the gold band on his left ring finger instead of answering. "I don't want anyone to know," he said after a while, "about my private life."

"There's no reason anybody should," Julian replied simply.

There was another long pause and then Dorian finally nodded once, his shoulders falling as if in defeat.

Deciding to give the man some privacy for now, Julian patted him on the shoulder. "All right then," he said kindly. "We'll talk another time."


----


After he left Dorian's office, Julian approached the rest of his day with a business-as-usual attitude. There were letters to write, meetings with the Ministry, and statements to prepare for when the Daily Prophet inevitably came asking questions. Calm and focused, Julian worked late into the night, tackling each and every task, all the while ignoring the painful memories of his own divorce that were forcing their way to the forefront of his mind.

Nothing of Julian’s behaviour that evening suggested that he had a heavy tightness in his chest that made it difficult to breathe at times, nor that he had a lump in his throat that he could not clear no matter how many times he swallowed. It wasn't hard to pretend. He'd done it before, and when he finally retired to his office at midnight, Julian was confident that no one had noticed that anything was wrong.

Despite the late hour and his exhaustion, Julian did not go to sleep. For hours, he sat upright in his favourite armchair and stared into the fire as the thoughts and emotions that he had been bottling all evening worked their way to the surface. Suddenly, Julian rose from his chair and moved with purpose to a large trunk, and lifting the lid, he dug through to the very bottom. Deliberately and carefully concealed beneath a pair of dress robes that he no longer wore, Julian found a wooden keepsake box.

Carrying the box to his desk, Julian sat down and with trembling hands, removed the lid. For what felt like a long time, Julian simply stared down into the box’s contents: a photo album, scrolls of parchment, and his own wedding band. Finally, he reached in and picked up the gold ring. He turned the band between his fingers for a few minutes, then clasped it tightly in his palm as if saying goodbye before returning it to the box. Tentatively, and with his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage, Julian reached for the photo album. As he opened to the first page, Julian's breath quickened; he already knew it would reveal photos of his wedding day, twenty-five years previously.

Thick tears rolled down Julian's cheeks as he ran his thumb across the photos in the album. It had been so long since he last allowed himself to look back on happier times, and desperate to see more, Julian turned page after page. When he could no longer see through the tears that would not stop flowing, Julian tore off his glasses, threw them aside and buried his face in his hands. At long last, and for the first time in years, Julian broke down into sobs so loud that the subjects in the portraits on the walls crept out of their frames.