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The sound of Adhan filled the air as the sun rose over the horizon. He had always loved this time of day, as the melodic Islamic prayer reverberated against the golden sandstone. The world still felt dreamlike and quiet despite people waking to pray. The whole energy of the place seemed to hum as if in answer to the call.
The rising sun’s rays caught the tips of the few sparse buildings as it peeked over the distant mountains casting the broad valley in a soft red hue. The sand looked the colour of pumpkins and autumn leaves from home, triggering a ping of homesickness despite the splendour before him.
Algernon Longbottom shivered in the cool morning. It was a cool but pleasant temperature for a British spring day. Still, in comparison to the blistering midsummer heat of the Assyrian desert, it felt practically arctic. He pulled on his jacket over his vest, knowing that it wouldn’t be staying on for long now the sun was climbing into the sky. He shivered again, feeling the tingle of goosebumps along his skin.
He pulled out his handkerchief with a grimace and wiped at his face. It didn’t seem to matter what he did, but the sand, dust and grime clung to him. Moving from his tent, he turned, looking at the rest of the camp, where the other expedition members stirred. A few natives ran around carrying bowls of water to the Europeans for their morning ablutions. It was an exciting mixture of muggle and magical people from all over Europe. Archaeologists, anthropologists, artists and historians, and their secretly magical counterparts.
He prided himself on being one of the few magiarchaeobotanists in the world. And he certainly wasn’t looking for the same thing as the others. As a highly accredited Magiarchaeobotanist, he was there, just like the others, searching for the lost hanging gardens of Babylon. However, unlike the others, he was looking for lost magical herbs and plants lost from the wizarding community. A few on his list were the Sideritis Bassilikos, the Myalo Agapi and the Apistrofi Mnimis, also known as Basil Iron, Thinkwort and Glassroot, respectively. All healing herbs were recorded in ancient Greek texts and Egyptian hieroglyphics dating back two and a half thousand years.
Finding the plants would improve his family’s standing. The Longbottoms had long been looked down on by the other sacred twenty-eight families. Still, if he could find a trace of even one of the herbs… his mind wandered to his ailing Grandmother, Callidora Black. There were telltale signs that she had inherited some of the madness for which her family were well known. The plants could be used to treat patients suffering from mind-related injuries. There was a hope that potions could be made. He just needed some seeds. With his green thumb, he had no doubt that he could coax them back into life again. Propagating them back into circulation, ready for the healers and potioneers back home.
He pulled his cigarette case out, removed one of the long brown shafts before tapping it on the metal case. It was a ritual he’d always done. He lit it with a bit of wandless magic before taking a long drag, feeling the warm smoke curl within his lungs as the sunlight warmed his face. Then turned and trudged down to the dig camp, careful of his footing on the loose stones and sand. His colleague, Esteban Romero, had already tripped and sprained his ankle earlier in the week. Luckily for them, both being wizards meant the discomfort was temporary.
From where the breakfast tent sat, you could see what was left of Sennacherib’s palace, the believed location of the lost gardens -- not in Babylon as initially thought. There were deep ditches and apparent stone staircases and pillars dotted in a row leading to where they believed the front entrance of the grand palace was. He dearly wished he could grab a time turner that would take him far back enough that he could have seen this place in its prime.
He pushed through the white canvas to find the wooden trestle tables set up with local delicacies, a lot of them including dates and eggs in some shape or another. There were also a few familiar foods too to keep the Europeans happy. He had become particularly fond of a local dish called Kahi. A flaky sweet pastry doused in cardamom-infused rose water and a knob of thick curd-like cream. He could feel the inches gathering at his waist the more he ate.
Sitting down with that and a bowl of dates, he nodded to the rest of the party. His colleague, Esteban, poured him a cup of coffee from the pot without breaking up his conversation with the others.
“Tonight at the Bloom!” The British artist, Hastings announced.
“No! She would not come here. It is too far from anywhere.” The Estonian man declared, his name temporarily escaped him.
“Who are we talking about?” Algie asked, leaning forward to look at the others.
Estaban grinned at him, a bright look in his eye. “None other than Bellezza Nera!”
His heart stuttered for a moment at the mention of the name. “Isadora Allegri?” He whispered,
“Si, She sings at the Purple Bloom tonight,”
A cloud of butterflies swelled up in his stomach at the mention of her name. His beautiful Isadora. He hadn’t seen her in years, not since her performance on the cruise along the Danube. He remembered her dark chocolate skin, perfect and blemishless, as he undid the zip of her dress. She had been young and perfect and his.
“Algie?” Estaban repeated, “What is the matter?”
“N-nothing, I just remembered, I-I left something at the tent. Please, excuse me.” He stood up, his breakfast and coffee untouched as he left their animated conversation.
Isadora Allegri. He sighed as he stepped out into the clammy air. It had risen at least two degrees since stepping into the tent. They were so much older now, and Vienna felt like aeons had passed. He wondered how she had aged from that youthful teen. Would she recognise him now compared to the strapping, adventurous youth he had been? Would he want her to see him now as the middle-aged, soft-around-the-middle academic he had become? He shook his head, vowing he would not find out. Instead, he would remain at camp catching up on his note-making of their findings so far, giving the club a wide berth. Isadora Allegri was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow...
~~~
He clenched his jaw as he followed the other men through the pale doors of the club. It was a small place with only a slightly raised area for the singer and band. She would see him for sure. He almost turned back, but Esteban gripped his shoulder, turning him around.
“My friend. Bellezza Nera is a woman to behold. You stay and experience heaven,” He grinned before pushing him into a seat close to the stage. Algie couldn’t talk. He had already experienced heaven and had been cast from it. How could he face that again? How could he possibly see her again?
The room was full of mostly local men along with their party, their expressions, skin and attire looking so at odds, them in their white suits and hats and the locals in their dark robes. A hush fell over the crowd as the lady in question stepped out from a back room. A black dress with long sleeves clinging to every curve. At the sight of her face, his heart stopped, and he could no longer breathe. She looked virtually unchanged as she walked carefully to the stage, letting her hips roll as she walked.
Her dark skin glowed in the light, flawless and smooth like carved like the black granite statues of the Egyptian Pharaohs. She moved like water, all liquid grace as though the world held no resistance for her. He had often wondered whether she had Veela heritage because the way her entrance utterly entranced the whole room of men couldn’t be a coincidence.
She stepped up onto the raised platform and looked around. Her bright, white teeth flashing in a sly smile as a man stumbled forward to help her before tripping over himself in retreat. The man promptly hid himself behind the business end of his piano once again. The trumpet player gazed longingly at her as he waited to play.
Brushing down her dress, she glanced up and into the faces of the men that pressed forward like moths to a lantern, hoping to get closer to her. But, instead, her dark gaze met his, and it was like the world around them disappeared, and they were young in Vienna once again. Her face transformed into the nineteen-year-old he had known so long ago. He offered a smile as he removed his hat, fiddling with the edges as they gazed at each other.
“B-Buona Serata,” She called as she prepared herself, obviously affected by his appearance. “Good evening. I-I will start by singing my first song in honour of an old friend. This song is called, the very thought of you,”
The pianist started to play as she began to sing, her voice ringing out like a bell into the silent crowd, captivating them with the bounce of her hip as she kept in time. She glanced at him as she caressed the air in front of her as though cradling his memory. The song was about a lovesick person being distracted by the thoughts of their beloved.
Hope foolishly blossomed in his chest as she crooned. Was this time finally their time? Was she here in the middle of nowhere for him? It seemed too good to be true, like a dream.
“Did I not tell you, mi Amigo? Is this not heaven?” His friend asked, reaching out to grab his arm. “What a beauty! Encantadora,” he breathed as the song came to an end. The small bar erupted in deafening applause.
He let the music flow over him as he watched her, her eyes closed as her hips rocked and bounced softly to the beat. If he only had tonight, then he would drink her in and deal with the hangover for the rest of his life.
~~~
“I knew it! Did I not predict?” Estaban boasted as they readied to leave. Algae remained as he watched the liquid in his glass move as he waited, hoping she would reappear. “You are bewitched, my friend. Come, let’s return to the camp. You owe me a bottle of the Dragon barrel brandy!”
A hush fell over the bar again, drawing their attention. Looking up, he noticed her. How had he not? Legs that went for days, skin the colour of carob and eyes so dark and deep they could drown your soul…
“Excuse me,” she interrupted, “mind if I join you?” Algie nodded as Estaban drooled from where he stood.
“Hermosa mujer, fuiste increíble!” he practically shouted at her.
She lowered down and sat next to Algie, an enigmatic smile growing on her lips, the red lipstick stretching into a shy grin.
“Gracias,” she replied carefully, “you compliment me greatly,”
“These are n-not compliments. These are truths,” he replied softly.
“Gracias, all the same. Now, I would very much like to speak to your friend,” She offered, as her eyes slid to his hands. “Would you be so kind?”
“Oh, Y-yes, of c-course. Adios,” He nodded, flustered as he retreated into the night, glancing back at him for a moment.
“You look well, Izzi,” He whispered, trying to avoid looking at her. If he didn’t look, he might be able to hold this conversation without falling to his knees to beg her to take him back.
“As do you,” Her voice was like melted chocolate. “No one calls me Izzy these days.” She sighed. “Do you have a cigarette?” She asked.
He pulled out his cigarette case and removed two, tapping them on the edge before handing her one.
“And a light?” She purred. He pulled out his cigarette lighter. He carried it around for when he was around muggles. A flame appeared after the spark, and he held it out to her as she dragged air through the stick of tobacco. The end lit bright orange before he brought the flaming lighter to his own. The nicotine hit was instantaneous as he watched her cheeks hollow as the end flashed brighter.
“What are you doing here, Izzy?” he breathed as he held the smoke in before blowing it to the side. He studied her as he felt all eyes in the bar on them. “I thought you had decided it would be best if we-”
“I still believe that,” She interrupted as she tapped her long dark fingers on the table. “You know I’m cursed,”
“Poppycock!” he snorted, taking another drag of his cigarette. “You don’t really believe that?” He wasn’t sure whether it was an answer or a question.
“Nony,” She cooed at him, using her old nickname. His heart melted slightly as he tried to maintain control. “Marco died,”
“What? When?” He asked, feeling a thrill of unease stir in his gut.
“January,” She whispered, her dark eyelashes hiding her eyes. “Crispin died two years ago, and Felix the Christmas before that.” She looked down at her hands.
He whistled as he shook his head. “I’m sorry for your losses. How did they die?”
“No one can tell me,” She looked down at her hands and sniffed. Algie pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to her. Raising her eyes, she smiled as she took it, her skin glancing against his. He felt the heat like a brand against his flesh.
“They don’t know?” She shook her head. “How can they not?”
“Well, they say they all died of a condition of the heart, but their hearts were so strong,” She sniffed again.
“All of them had heart conditions?”
“No, but that is how they died. They cannot tell me how,” Isadora shook her head and sniffed again.
“Excuse me, darlin’? Is this man bothering you?” An American man stood over them, leering down at her before throwing a glare at him. Algie had to force himself to remain seated as his teeth ground together.
“No, thank you,” She said without sparing him a look as she dabbed at her eyes.
“Are you sure?” He asked again, “I can get rid of him for you,”
“I said no. If I want rid, I can do that myself,” His voice came out cold and firm as she looked up into his face.
“Oh, alright… but if you want some better company, you just call,”
“I won’t, but thank you for your concern,” She replied, turning her attention from him again. Algie knew how it felt. To be the focus of that gaze was like standing in the sun, letting the rays warm you to the bone. Being away from her was like being locked out in a snowstorm. She held her hand out, and he took it without a second thought. He held her and comforted her. “I am ok. There was no love between Marco and me. My father still desires an heir before he dies. But he was a good man.”
“I’m sorry, Izzy.” He floundered as he wondered what more he could say. “So what brings you here? You can fill halls ten times this size,”
She looked down at their hands. A look of sadness and wariness filled her features.
“Would you walk me home?” She asked, changing the subject. “I am new to the city, and I might get lost,”
“Of course,” He replied, knowing that if she asked it of him, he would stay with her forever, dig be damned. “Would you like to retire now?” She nodded. He stood and offered her his arm, and she took it, as graceful as a cat.
“Where are you staring?” He asked, looking through the crowd for the nearest exit. He could feel eyes on them, some blatantly staring whilst others pretended not to. He hated it.
“Upstairs,” She whispered. He looked at her, and she smiled slyly,
“I hear the roads to that part of town can get particularly precarious at this time of night.” He smirked as they walked to the stairs, hidden behind the bar. She smirked bashfully and looked down.
“You always knew how to make me laugh, Nony,” She sighed, squeezing closer to him as they reached the top.
“You always liked my bad jokes,” He shrugged before they scaled the stairs.
“This is my room,” She removed her wand from her dress and pointed it, The door sprung open, and she stepped inside, holding it open for him.
The room was simple and smaller than he had expected. Their rooms in Vienna had been much more extravagant. He smiled sadly as he took in the dark wood panelling covering the bottom half of the walls. Sweeping up to the ceiling, white adobe plaster covered the rest of the walls.
The door clicked, and he turned, finding her pressed against it looking nervous. “Would you stay and talk for a while?”
He nodded again, breathless as excitement rushed through his veins. “I’ve missed you,” He replied softly. “There’s not been a day that you’ve not been on my mind,” He watched her face as it crumbled as though in pain. He rushed to her, reaching for her arm.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” She whispered as tears clung to her eyelashes.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to hear them,” She turned to him and kissed him, her luscious lips pressing against his. So softly at first, then firmly, hungrily, urgently as they fell into each other’s arms.
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” He whispered into her mouth between kisses.
“Please,” She begged desperately. Algie wasn’t sure whether she was asking him to stop or to tell her more. “Please, stop...” she whimpered as she gently pushed him away.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.
“I need to tell you some things,” They panted heavily as he waited. “I am engaged,”
The silence in the room suddenly overwhelmed him. This wasn’t it, their chance to be together. This was some cruel twist of fate that gave him a taste of heaven before returning him to hell. He closed his eyes, the tears threatening to appear. He moved to leave, but she moved into his way.
“You are someone else’s, Izzy. It isn’t fair.”
“It isn’t. My father arranged it. I don’t want to marry again. I wish only to be with you.”
“Then marry me instead,” Algie whispered, his betrothal out in the open again. “I asked you in Vienna, and you turned me down, But if you truly love me, why not consider it?” He asked.
“I will never marry you,” She said softly, cupping his face with her hand, “But not because I don’t love you, but I am cursed. Every man I marry will die, and it would kill me if I doomed you to that fate. I must marry Fabrizio Zabini,”
“Why have you brought me here, Isadora?” He whispered, feeling the knife in his heart twisting painfully. “How is it we always end up in this predicament?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“My father wants an heir. And…” She tentatively touched his arm. “I wanted you to be the father.”
“What?” He asked, his face sobering as he backed away.
“I know that we will never be able to be together, My family won’t allow it, and I wouldn’t wish my curse on you,”
“You’re not cursed!” He almost shouted, “Marry me, and I’ll prove it to you,”
“I will not. But I wanted us to have a baby together so that part of us could always be united. Something beautiful that we created. Together,”
He lowered himself onto the bed, staring at nothing while his mind reeled through all the possibilities. “Please, Nony. All I have ever wanted…” She started to cry, then remembered about the handkerchief. Dabbing at her eyes, she sighed, her breath catching as a sob tried to escape.
Algie’s mind reeled at the proposition. Children? Looking to her, he could see the fine tremor in her hands as she sobbed silently into the handkerchief. Thoughts sped to her and how she was feeling. How desperate must she have been to come to him?
“Why me and not your new husband?”
“When Marco died, and I was still…” Her words died off as she sniffed. “I made a vow that any children that I bore would be yours.”
“And what if I decline?” He asked, turning towards her. He had already made up his mind, but he wanted to hear her reply.
“Then I will remain childless for the rest of my days,” She looked up then, her dark eyes boring into his, her desperate plea clear. “I will expect nothing of you. You can forget and move on…”
“Nothing?”
“Niente,”
“What if I wanted to be involved?” He asked tentatively as he took her hand.
“I would insist that you not,”
“Because of your fiance?” He asked, feeling a heavyweight settle in his chest.
“Fabrizio must never know,” She whispered. “No one must,”
“What would you tell our child?”
“Niente,”
“Never?” He asked, and she shook her head.
“I would one day want them to know who I was.”
“Would you?” She asked hopefully.
“If it didn’t ruin things for everyone, I would want to know them.”
“So…” She started, looking to him with wide eyes. “Are you saying yes?”
“You know I could never say no to you…”
“Oh, Nony!” She exclaimed as they kissed again.
“Izzy, my love…” He growled as they felt together in a tangle of lips and arms.