His heart was in his mouth, weighing his tongue down with every fear Vince could have fathomed: abandonment, understanding, acceptance, misunderstanding, recognition etc. He didn’t dare wait this exchange out and see who or what waited for him on the other side. The temptation was not enough to abate the ever rising panic making him trip over his own thoughts.

She zigged as he zagged however and grasped the edges of his sleeve, her voice familiar in its floating weightlessness. In her words, her tone perhaps, he could hear his Ophelia’s rhythm. Like a heartbeat he’d listened to for months, its life-giving beat was recognizable. The earlier part of their exchange flashed in his mind and that, too, only confirmed it. Caught like a deer under bright lights, Vincent froze at her words unable to rip himself away.

Please. Stay.

The words I can’t lingered on the tip of his heavy tongue as green eyes sought blue. He was ready to force the matter, to dart as far away from his flame as a moth might dare. But before Vince could manage a sound the woman’s mask fell away. His breath hitched in his lungs.

Shalott Dempsey?!

He wrenched his arm away from her and tripped a step backwards in alarm.

(Something in Vincent’s heart skipped a beat, then two. The pain that shot through his chest at the utter calamity of this coincidence made everything the hard working Slytherin had ever strived for rock under his feet.)

Blinking quickly, Vince tried to recover. “I beg your pardon Ms. Dempsey,” his voice was breathy and hard. “I think you must have me mistaken with someone else.” Green eyes darted to the side again and Vince determined to be polite. He could find a graceful way out of this encounter, surely?

One thing was certain however: he must do so without ever allowing her to know his true identity.

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