Rumpelstiltskin and the Guardian

London

All night Harriet tossed and turned, plagued by nightmares of the final battle. She would startle awake, heart pounding and tears in her eyes, only to turn over and immediately be plunged back into the same nightmare. She knew it wasn’t real, yet she couldn’t stop them. By daybreak, she felt more exhausted than the night before.

Unable to fall back asleep, Harriet burrowed under the covers and curled into the fetal position. She couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her own mind. Despite knowing Rumpelstiltskin was still a dark wizard, she had chosen to forgive him. It wasn’t fair she had to continue dealing with horrific nightmares. Forgiveness was supposed to set you free. Yet Harriet still felt trapped, and heartbroken

Whenever she remembered the final battle, it always had a hazy quality to it; like she couldn’t get the images quite in order. It didn’t help that everything between leaving Dumbledore’s pensive and her dying was blank. She had always assumed dying had given her some kind of amnesia; for which, she’d been thankful. Her death wasn’t something she wanted to remember. Unfortunately, her nightmares had unlocked the real memories of her sacrifice.

Harriet remembered leaving Dumbledore’s office lightheaded and numb. The memories from the pensive being the last straw for her already frayed emotions. She remembered feeling cheated out of a childhood. She also remembered feeling disappointed with Dumbledore. Yet, what really stuck out to Harriet now, were the feelings of relief.

She didn’t have to be brave. She could rest.

In a moment of whimsy she’d decided to change clothes. What she had on was ripped and torn. The shirt was slashed across her chest and singed. Her pants were stiff with dried mud and hard to move in. She was uncomfortable and she didn’t want to die that way.

Harriet remembered a closet in the Great Hall that always seemed to be full of clothes and she knew that she could quickly change there. In a trance, she’d left the headmaster’s office and descended the stairs. Even now, she couldn’t say how she’d gotten to the Great Hall so quickly. The stairs, despite a war raging around them, stopped for no one, and yet they hadn’t hampered her ability to find her way. All the nights she had wandered Hogwarts in her invisibility cloak had paid off.

Standing in front of the closet, she remembered wanting to look pretty for once. Other than the dress she wore to the Yule Ball, Harriet hadn’t owned anything feminine. All her casual clothes had been pants and tee shirts. There had been a few sweaters and coats, but all of them were Dudley’s castoffs. Mrs. Weasley had taught her how to tailor her clothes, but she still dressed like a boy.

Biting her lip, Harriet had opened the door. The closet had been filled with every type of dress imaginable. The colors went from drab to dazzling and the cuts were as complicated as a ball gown to as simple as a sundress. Looking through the closet she remembered feeling overwhelmed before she realized what would be appropriate.

After all, what else do you wear to a human sacrifice?

She shut the door and then reopened it. The dresses had changed, turning into various shades of white. Some even sparkled. Looking through her options, Harriet’s gaze fell to a simple, ankle length dress. The skirt was light and shimmery while the bodice was form fitting but seemingly comfortable. The neckline was only slightly immodest, and the sleeves were short and puffy. She was sure it was a wedding dress, but Harriet didn’t care. She loved it.

Pulling off her clothes, she felt a pang of regret. She wished she could take a shower and fix her hair, but she knew she didn’t have time. Swallowing back tears, she slipped on the dress and smoothed down the wrinkles. There were even matching shoes.

Looking in the mirror, she smiled sadly. The dress fit her like a glove and even managed to enhance her wild appearance; making her appear fey-like. Running her fingers through her hair, she sighed in regret that she would only ever wear a dress like this once.

On her way to Voldemort, she had stopped Neville and made him promise to destroy Nagini. He’d agreed and went to kiss her when she’d stopped him. She hadn’t wanted to give him false hope; not when she was planning to die. Turning from him, she had quickly made her way to the courtyard. There, she had helped a few students bandage their wounds, getting blood on her bodice.

The walk to the clearing had dirtied the bottom of her dress and torn the skirt. Her interlude with the Resurrection Stone, had caused her to lose her shoes in the mud and the surrounding branches and tall bramble bushes had pulled at her hair; giving it an even wilder appearance.

Yet when she stood before Lord Voldemort, alone in the clearing save a few death eaters, she had never felt more beautiful. Voldemort's hungry eyes had traveled along her body, resting briefly on her hips and breasts before catching her eyes. She remembered realizing how uncertain he was. How confused.

But his uncertainty and confusion had only lasted a moment. Voldemort had circled her, like a predator stalking his prey, before coming to stand by her shoulder. She had felt him lean forward, his mouth near her ear, and whispered, “Join me Potter. Stand by my side, and you shall have everything you desire.”

Harriet had closed her eyes and remained quiet. Not because she was considering his offer, but because Voldemort would be the last person she would ever interact with. She had wanted to savor the solidness of his body and his surprising warmth. Licking her lips, Harriet had finally opened her eyes. Turning her head toward him, she whispered, “I’d rather die, but thanks.”

Voldemort had chuckled darkly, his face twisted in what Harriet had thought was anger. Not wanting to witness his hate, she had turned away when she was startled by the feeling of his lips lightly grazing her ear. She watched as he stalked away from her, before turning back around. There had been something like regret in his eyes when he said, “What a pity.”

She remembered the quick and harsh Avada Kedavra; the sickly green light and the feeling of a million tiny needles piercing her skin all at once. Then her dreams turned grayish and dark before she was finally startled awake.

Harriet had always known that something had happened in-between dying and waking up on the cold ground. She remembered, fleetingly, speaking to someone. There had been a chair and the sound of crying before she awoke, but she never felt the need to dwell on it. Now, she wished she had.

Sitting up, Harriet sniffed and wiped her nose on the covers. She stood slowly, some of her strength back despite her poor sleep, and absently grabbed a sweater and jeans to change into. Slipping her robe on, she looked at the clock. It was only six in the morning.

Quietly, she opened the door and sighed in relief when she saw Rumpelstiltskin wasn't at his spinning wheel. She grimaced when she remembered how disappointed she’d been to wake up alone in her apartment yesterday.

So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Opening the bathroom door, she quickly shut and locked it. Leaning against the sink, her mind wandered back to her nightmare. Harriet involuntarily shivered as she imagined Voldemort’s lips caressing her ear. Then she reddened in shame.

What was WRONG with her?

Shaking her head, she turned on the shower and set the heat to scalding. Stripping, she quickly jumped in and began scrubbing her feelings away. Could she really be attracted to Rumpelstiltskin? Or did she just want a friend? Could it be both?

Harriet couldn’t help that her heart fluttered every time he looked at her. Nor could she stop the flip flopping in her stomach whenever they touched. She most definitely found it impossible to ignore her desire whenever he was in the Dark One form. She was still puzzled as to why she was so attracted to his crocodile-like appearance, but she supposed it had something to do with how he carried himself. It also didn’t help that his skin was soft and silky, and his eyes were beautifully unique; a perfect marriage of Lord Voldemort and Rumpelstiltskin.

Leaning her head against the shower door, Harriet closed her eyes. She knew her feelings weren’t right. That something had to be wrong with her to desire the man that killed her. Yet he was so different from how he used to be that she was finding it hard to care.

Harriet finished her shower in a daze of confusion. She pulled on her clothes and walked into the living room. Shivering from a faint chill, she started looking for something to eat. She was surprisingly hungry.

“You’re up early.” A voice observed, causing Harriet to jump and almost spill the cereal she was holding. Looking over her shoulder she noticed Rumplestilskin leaning against the backdoor, his arms crossed. He was dressed simply in jeans and a green V-neck shirt, and she found herself startled by how comfortable he was in her space.

“How long have you been there?” Harriet asked, biting her lower lip.

“Just walked in.” Rumple replied, pushing himself off the door. Harriet watched as he limped toward her. She frowned when she noticed that he wasn’t using his cane. Looking around, she saw it by the front door.

“I’ll get your cane.” Harriet said as she tried to hurry past him, but he gently grabbed her arm.

“You didn’t sleep well.” Rumple muttered; his mouth close to her ear. It mimicked her nightmare so accurately that she flinched away from him. Frowning, Rumple let her go and watched as she picked up his cane and skittishly presented it to him.

Taking it from her he asked, “What’s wrong, Beauty?”

Harriet just shook her head. Rumple could never know how she felt. Despite his possible divorce, he was still a married man. She was sure he would be disgusted with her. If not openly contemptuous of her feelings.

“What did I do now?” Rumple's voice was resigned.

“Nothing,” Harriet said quickly. Stepping forward she went to reassure him but stopped short of actually touching him. Even though she wanted to.

She wanted nothing more than for him to hold her against his warm body. She wanted to feel the slight paunch of his stomach against her abdomen and smell his musky scent. Yet she knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Her emotions were far too raw for friendship.

“I’ve done something,” Rumple said, his voice weary and resigned. He was holding himself still, as if waiting to be slapped.

“Nothing recently,” Harriet replied warily.

“Recently?” Rumple echoed, “Beauty, I’ve only been here for a few days….” Then Rumple abruptly stopped. Looking at her shadowed face he asked, “Is this……did you…...?” He took a deep breath, “I know you were having nightmares. You were unsettled all night. Were they about me?”

Swallowing Harriet nodded and looked away from him. Rumple took a step toward her, his hand outstretched, when Harriet abruptly walked toward the kitchenette counter. She hated how perceptive he could be.

Rumple frowned as he watched her bustle around the kitchenette. Something was wrong. After everything that had happened yesterday, she was intentionally trying to keep him at a distance.

The question was why?

“What caused the nightmares?” Rumple asked quietly and Harriet shrugged, grabbing another bowel for Rumple. “It was probably everyone discovering who you are.” Filling the bowels with cereal she muttered, “It was easier to believe you were different, when no one else knew who you were.”

“I am different,” Rumple said, his voice filled with hurt, “I thought you believed that?”

“I do,” Harriet replied, her voice harsh, “It’s just….the nightmares….they were bad, Rum.”

He silently watched as Harriet placed their breakfast on the table. He could see she was troubled but he wasn’t sure how to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” Rumple felt his heart clench at seeing her in pain, “If I could, I would take away the hurt I caused you.”

“You killed me, Rum,” Harriet’s voice sounded strangled.

“I did,” Rumple agreed, wanting to take a step toward her, but knowing it wouldn’t be welcome.

“It was fuzzy before,” Harriet whispered, more to herself than to him, “I knew it happened, but I couldn’t remember it.”

Rumple was silent as he watched Harriet clench and unclench her hands. She was staring at the floor, her expression somewhere between fierce and frightened. He had thought she’d been too accepting of him these last few days. While he had chalked it up to loneliness and kindness and the strangeness of their situation, it never occurred to him that she too could have had memory loss.

“Your memories were suppressed too?” Rumple asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.

“In a way,” Harriet sighed tiredly, “I don’t know if it was my doing…. or someone else's.”

“Who?” Rumple frowned, dread piercing his heart.

“I don’t know,” Harriet shook her head, “Last night…. I dreamed of….my death.”

“Oh.” Rumple whispered, his heart beginning to race.

Involuntarily, his mind drifted to that morning in the Forbidden Forest. The sun had just begun to rise, making her dress sparkle in the early morning light. Her hair had been wild, and she’d been shaking from the cold. He remembered having the ridiculous impulse to wrap her in his cloak; a faintly human response he hadn’t completely eradicated.

She was beautiful, brave, and fierce; the complete opposite of him and he had wanted her for his own. For a moment, he had let his defenses slip. He leaned forward, inhaled the dirt, sweat, and blood that covered her, and offered her the world.

She’d refused, like he knew she would, but he’d taken no satisfaction in killing her. He’d actually been shocked at how deeply it affected him to see her lying there; still and cold. The girl-who-lived, had lived no more, and he’d felt the wrongness of that deep in his fractured soul.

Swallowing, Rumple opened his mouth to once again apologize, but instead asked, "Why the dress?”

“What?” Harriet asked, taken aback.

“You wore a dress,” Rumple’s voice was gravelly, “Why?”

Harriet stared at him for a moment, but then said heartbrokenly, “I wanted to die pretty.”

Rumple closed his eyes against the guilt. He tried to speak, but it felt like someone was squeezing his throat. Swallowing, Rumple opened his eyes and found Harriet’s emerald one's swimming with tears. He closed the distance between them and gently cupped her cheek, “You were, you know.”

“I was what?” Harriet whispered, trying to hide her pain and failing.

“Pretty,” Rumple replied, smiling at the stunned expression on her face. Shyly, he added, “Beautiful even.”

“I….” Harriet began, but then she cleared her voice, “You still killed me.”

“Yes,” Rumple replied, rubbing his thumb across her cheek, “I had to.”

“But you didn’t,” Harriet whispered, her eyes boring into his. The air around them began to crackle with tension. Rumple began leaning forward, her eyes beckoning him forward, when a shrill ring pierced the silence. The tension broken, Rumple cleared his throat and abruptly let Harriet go. Sniffing, she rubbed her nose on her sleeve and watched as Rumple picked up his phone.

“Why is she calling so early?” Rumple muttered to himself, “It’s one in the morning there.”

“Who?” Harriet asked, but then her heart constricted when she saw Belle’s name on the caller ID.

Turning, so Rumple couldn’t see how jealous she was, Harriet poured milk into their cereal and began to eat. He watched her for a moment before answering the call.

“What?” Rumple snapped.

“Are you fucking another woman?” Belle abruptly snarled; her voice heavily slurred.

“Are you drunk?” Rumple asked in a disbelieving tone.

“No.” Belle slurred. Rumple rubbed his temple.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” He snapped.

“I deserve to know,” Belle began but Rumple cut her off and savagely snarled, “Between the two of us, you’re the only one that’s getting fucked.”

His declaration was met by the sound of Belle’s ragged breathing. Frowning Rumple snorted in derision, his anger draining away at how pathetic they were.

“Go to bed. Make sure you drink some water in the morning. You’re going to be hung over.” Rumple’s voice was dismissive.

“I want to know.” Belle began but Rumple just hung up on her and blocked her number. He would unblock it later, but he wasn’t going to argue with her when she was drunk and belligerent enough to keep calling.

“Is everything okay?” Harriet asked, not looking at him while she played with her food.

“She’s drunk,” Rumple replied as he sat across from her, “and a little jealous I think.”

“She has no right to be jealous,” Harriet grumbled, and Rumple smiled. Despite her conflicting emotions, she was still on his side.

Watching her eat, Rumple asked, “Are you okay?”

Harriet looked at him from under her lashes, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It was just…. a lot…. last night. Between everyone finding out, Rosie being kidnapped, and then the nightmares….”

“I know,” Rumple reached out and brushed her hand with his fingers, “But you have nothing to fear from me, Beauty.”

“You tried to take an unbreakable vow yesterday,” Harriet replied, with a half-hearted smile, “I believe you when you say you won’t hurt me.”

“Then what….” Rumple began but she just shook her head.

“It’s just hard to explain. I’ll get over it eventually.”

Deciding to let the matter drop, Rumple nodded. Looking at his food, he grimaced when he realized his cereal was almost too soggy to eat. Swallowing it quickly, he took the bowl to the sink.

“Where’s Kreacher?” Harriet asked, absently. She just realized the little elf wasn’t around.

“Winky needs help with the garden.” Rumple replied, watching her carefully from the corner of his eye, “I was helping earlier when I came back in to check on you.”

She nodded and tried to eat, but their conversation had put her off food.

“I was thinking about reading my journals,” Rumple winced, “But honestly, I can’t make myself.”

“Can I read them?” Harriet asked. She desperately wanted to know more about Tom Riddle. To see if there was even the tiniest bit of Rum in him. She wasn’t sure if it would make her feel better or worse about her attraction, but she was willing to find out.

Rumple paled, “Please don’t ask that of me.”

“That bad?” Harriet winced at his horrified face. She supposed that should be enough of an answer, but she still desperately wanted to know Rumple better. Maybe if she did, she would begin to understand herself.

Rumple rubbed his eyes in irritation, "I was a horrifying little snot.”

Inexplicably Harriet giggled, causing Rumple to frown, “What?”

“Just the look on his face at being called a snot…...” Harriet began, but then she frowned and swallowed, “Your….it was your face……” Harriet stopped smiling. Her eyes became vacant, and she looked at the floor.

Rumple limped toward her until he was standing by her side and softly commanded, “Talk to me.”

“You’re just so different,” Harriet whispered, looking up at him, “So caring and kind…... why would he...you...deny that?’

“I didn’t deny it, Beauty.” Rumple replied, touched at how Harriet saw him. Involuntary, he reached down and traced the right side of her jaw. Harriet shivered at the contact. Swallowing nervously, he pulled his hand away, “I……didn’t feel it….”

“I know we talked about it in the Forbidden Forest,” Harriet shook her head, “And I know……the reason…..”

“The reason?” Rumple echoed, frowning.

“Of why you couldn’t feel,” Harriet began but then stopped. She stood abruptly and grabbed her bowel.

He was frowning as he watched her throw away the half-eaten contents, "What do you mean?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Rumple snapped, his frustration mounting.

Harriet groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course he didn’t know. Why would he?

“You were conceived under a love potion,” Harriet began, and Rumple’s eyes widened, “Amortentia.”

Rumple took a step back and sank into Harriet’s vacated chair. She frowned but continued, “Dumbledore suspected that was why you were so……evil. He thought the side effect of the potion was ....”

“The inability to love,” Rumple muttered, cutting her off. He’d thought his father had abused his mother, but the opposite was in fact true. His mother had used his father, just as Zelena had used him. No wonder his father hadn’t wanted him.

Gritting his teeth, Rumple felt his chest tighten. He started breathing heavily and his skin began to crawl. Harriet immediately knelt in front of him. Putting her hand on his chest she said, “Rum, breathe slowly.”

Rumple clutched her hand and leaned forward, his forehead almost touching Harriet’s. He closed his eyes as he smelled her pomegranate and honey shampoo and deeply breathed in and out, trying to catch his breath.

Needing to move, Rumple swallowed and stood. He gently pushed Harriet aside and began to pace. Frowning, Harriet asked, “Are you alright?”

“No!” Rumple involuntary hissed. Harriet could feel her head begin to ache and her body tremble slightly. She was becoming resigned to feeling Rumple’s emotions, but they usually stayed within the realm of anger, sorrow, or guilt. She hadn’t felt this emotion before

Was it fear? Or shame?

“Talk to me,” Harriet pleaded. She knew better than to try and stop his pacing.

“I….” Rumple began but stopped. Could he tell her what Zelena had done? What she’d made him do? What she’d made him enjoy?

Swallowing Rumple turned away and hissed, “My mother raped my father.”

Harriet flinched, but stood and gently said, “Don’t judge your mother too harshly, Rum.”

Rumple spun around, “Excuse me?”

Harriet stiffened when she saw the anger in his eyes. Softly she pleaded, “Rumple, please let me continue.”

“What more is there to say?” Rumple hissed, as he slowly advanced toward her, his eyes changing to amber. He was still limping, so he wasn’t about to change form. Yet he was quite clearly angry with her.

In a rush, she said, “She was being abused at home. The Gaunt’s were evil fuckers that beat her. She became obsessed with your father as a means to cope….”

But Rumple cut her off.

“I don’t give a FUCK!” Rumple roared and Harriet flinched. He didn’t even care if he scared her. The more she talked, the more his mother reminded him of Zelena.

“Why are you so fucking mad!” Harriet’s temper flared and she was suddenly yelling, “I get it was bad, but bloody hell! It was the past!”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if it were you!” Rumple roared; his fists clenched.

Harriet rubbed her eyes and began to slowly breathe in and out in an attempt to control her anger. Yelling at Rumple was only making her headache worse, “I know Rum.”

“No you don’t,” Rumple replied, his voice shaking, “You don’t know what it’s like to have someone else control you!”

“Control?” It suddenly occurred to Harriet that they were no longer speaking about his parents.

Rumple looked at her, his eyes glistening with shame. Swallowing Harriet took a careful step forward and put her hand on his shoulder, “Who controlled you?’

“Zelena,” Rumple whispered, flinching away from her touch, “For a year and a half she had my dagger….” Rumple swallowed, “She made me do things.”

“What things?” Harriet asked, her voice soft and coaxing.

“Nothing that I wish to speak about,” Rumple replied, struggling to keep his voice even.

Harriet paused and realized just what he wasn’t saying. Biting her lip she asked, “Rum, did Zelena……did she……make you have sex with her?”

Rumple flinched and turned away from her, ashamed.

“Oh Rum,” Harriet whispered tenderly.

Rumple looked down, hiding his face with his hair. Then suddenly, he laughed hollowly, “The great and terrible Lord Voldemort, brought low by a redheaded, green skinned, psychopath.”

Harriet reached out and took Rumple’s chin in her hand. Making him look at her she asked, “Where is she now?”

“Dead,” Rumple hissed, his eyes flaring amber. He dared her to reprimand him.

“Good,” Harriet replied, her eyes hard and her voice vicious. Rumple blinked for a moment and then he smiled wickedly.

“Ohhhh,” Rumple whispered, reaching out and cupping Harriet’s cheek, “Who knew what a vicious little thing the famous Harry Potter could be.”

Harriet’s face hardened, and she pulled away from Rumple, letting his chin go.

“Don’t call me that,” Harriet commanded.

Rumple snickered, “Viciousness isn’t usually a Gryffindor trait, dear.”

“The sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin,” Harriet shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, "There had to be a reason.”

Seeing her impassive face, his anger burned out as quickly as it flared, and Rumple just nodded. The amber in his eyes faded and he plopped down onto a kitchenette chair, jarring his leg. Wincing he leaned forward on his cane and muttered resignedly, “Well…. you got me there,”

Harriet snorted and glared halfheartedly at Rumple. Hesitantly, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, “What am I going to do with you?”

Rumple glanced at Harriet and felt a jolt spread through him. Their eyes locked and he found himself with the strongest urge to pull her into his lap. To hide his face in the crook of her neck and breath in her scent. To slowly coax her into making him forget any touch but hers. He knew that her hands would be kind, that her mouth would be loving, and he wouldn’t have to worry that she was hurting him. That she might be someone else.

Zelena’s violations had made it hard for him to love Belle the way a husband should. Luckily, he was able to compartmentalize and perform his duties to her, but there had been a few times he wasn’t as present as he should’ve been. Belle never seemed to notice the times he…. wasn’t there.

Pushing his thoughts away he replied sarcastically, “You’re not the first person to ask that question, dearie.”

Harriet smiled then and lightly smacked him. Affectionately, he caught her hand and tenderly kissed her knuckles. He knew his actions were out of place, but he couldn’t deny himself the comfort. Afraid to gauge her reaction, he glanced at Harriet only to find her biting her bottom lip and looking thoughtful.

Encouraged, Rumple tenderly turned her hand over to kiss her wrist, when Harriet tugged on his hand. Frowning, he followed her into the living room, suddenly unsure of what he was feeling. He was distraught over what he’d learned about his parents, he was angry at having to discuss Zelena’s mistreatment, and yet he was following after Harriet like a lovesick puppy.

What was wrong with him?

Sitting down on the couch Harriet said, “I think we need a break, Rum.”

“Do we?” Rumple asked quietly, settling in beside her. What did she mean by break?

“Yes,” Harriet said, squeezing his hand, “A drama free day, just the two of us.”

“That sounds….intriguing,” Rumple commented, relieved she hadn’t meant a break from him.

Smiling, Harriet pulled her hand away, grabbed her phone, and sent a quick text. Smiling at the prompt reply, she said, “Ron and Hermione are planning to check on us around dinner. We have the day free until then.”

“What do you suggest we do, dearie?” Rumple asked, enjoying the way Harriet’s eyes sparkled when she was pleased.

“Nothing big,” Harriet replied with a smile, “I was thinking you could run and get us coffee and muffins while I plug in the Telly. We can have a movie marathon.

“A movie marathon?” Rumple echoed.

“Yeah,” Harriet confirmed, suddenly feeling shy, “If you think it’s stupid…..”

“No,” Rumple said, shaking his head, “I don’t……what would we watch?”

Harriet smiled mischievously, “I'm not going to lie, I plan on binging every romantic movie I’ve got.”

“Just don’t make me watch anything ridiculous,” Rumple replied indulgently as Harriet’s smile turned from shy to radiant. Standing, his casual outfit morphed into his usual black suit, and he quickly exited the apartment; not wanting to be parted from her a second longer than he had to.

Harriet smiled tenderly as he left. Already the day was fraught with emotional outbursts, but she hoped that by doing something relaxing they could salvage the day. Between the mysterious person that had orchestrated Rosie’s abduction to the mystery of Rumple’s reincarnation, there was enough to cause stress. She just wanted to relax as she regained some of her energy and spending time with Rumple was much preferred to anything else.

Storybrooke

Henry couldn't decide if he was a better liar than he thought or if his family was just gullible. A spiteful part of himself wondered if they even cared. With both of his mothers acting distant and his grandparents distracted, his doubts were smothering his ability to believe the best in people. While he knew he was the “truest believer”, he also knew that he was only human, and the power only worked as long as he was naive enough to believe the best in everyone.

What really bugged him was that if Emma and his grandparents had paid attention, they would have seen through his lies. Instead, Emma had been dismissive of his illness and Snow had barely said anything at all. David had just watched him carefully as he fed Neil. Henry was sure David was suspicious, but so far, his grandfather hadn’t said anything.

Currently, the only adult that showed him caring was Rumpelstiltskin. He could hear the pain in his grandpapa’s voice at their separation. Henry knew he would be there if he could. It had been Belle that had separated them, to the satisfaction of his so-called family.

His hard feelings for the librarian only intensified every time he saw her open the pawn shop and leave her boyfriend inside to run it. Even now, as he ached for his grandpapa, he was forced to watch his step-grandmother kiss another man. Henry scuffed his shoes as he stood outside the pawn shop and glared at the happy couple within. Maliciously Henry looked for a rock to throw, when a posh voice behind him said, “As much as I don’t like Mrs. Gold, maybe you shouldn’t destroy her property, Mr. Mills.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Henry found a gentleman closer to fifty than forty speaking to him. His hands were in the pockets of his tweed suit, and he wore a checkered gold tie and a brown paperboy hat. A tie clip of a pendulum clock on the man’s lapel informed Henry of who was addressing him.

“Mr. Cogsworth?” Henry asked. He had only ever heard his grandpapa speak about Dove Cogsworth once and it was clear that Rumpelstiltskin had nothing but respect for the man.

“Yes,” Cogsworth confirmed, as he walked toward Henry. The older man had the gait of a predator, despite how nonchalant he seemed, and Henry found himself feeling uneasy. While he knew his grandpapa would encourage Henry to trust him, he found Cogsworth’s gaze unnerving. He had a bad feeling about him. Not one that would make him afraid for his safety, but one that told Henry Cogsworth was trouble.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Henry asked as he began to make his way toward Granny’s. It was a last-minute decision but one he didn’t fault himself for making. Cogsworth made him nervous, and he didn’t want to be alone with him.

“Your little group is going to be noticed,” Cogsworth said as he matched Henry’s casual stride.

Henry’s steps faltered, but he didn’t stop. Licking his lips nervously Henry asked, “People are watching us?”

“Not yet,” Cogsworth looked casually around, “However, if you keep meeting in Micheal’s cottage, they will be.”

“He’s being watched?” Henry felt worry begin to claw at his stomach.

“He has been since he spoke with Mrs. Gold about the dagger,” Cogsworth replied with a shrug, “There are many people in this town that would like to see the dagger stay where it is.”

Henry stopped walking and said frantically, “We can’t let them.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mills,” Cogsworth said as he pushed the boy gently forward. They needed to keep moving. People would become suspicious if they saw him linger in Henry’s presence for too long, “It’s under control, for now.”

“Oh,” Henry said in relief, “That’s good.”

Cogsworth smiled at Henry as they stopped in front of Granny’s. Casually glancing around he said, “Have a great day Mr. Mills. Please give your grandfather my regards,” Hesitating for a moment he asked, “Maybe I will hear from him?”

Henry bit his lip before he nodded, “I don’t see why not.”

“Good,” Cogsworth doffed his hat, checked the time on his pocket watch, and whistled as he leisurely walked away.

Henry swallowed nervously and hurried into Granny’s. Darting around customers, he waved at Ruby to get her attention. Smiling, she jerked her head toward the back. Grinning, he slipped behind the counter and hid himself in the diner's laundry room.

Following him, breakfast plate in hand, Ruby scolded, “You’re going to get in trouble skipping school like you do.”

“Emma and my grandparents think I’m sick,”

“Still, you better get back after breakfast.” Ruby cautioned as she handed him his breakfast.

“Are you seeing Archie today?” Henry took the plate from her and began eating.

“Yeah,” She leaned against the doorframe and glanced over her shoulder at the busy dining room. Henry would need to leave soon, “Why?”

“We’re being watched,” Henry replied, causing Ruby to startle.

“What?”

“Mr. Cogsworth told me,” Henry wasn’t sure how much he should tell Ruby and Archie. He was still miffed they had sided with Micheal, but was growing uneasy about his plan to abandon them for Cogsworth. It no longer seemed like the wisest choice.

“Dove?” Ruby muttered. Frowning, she said, “He’s dangerous Henry.”

“I know,” Henry shrugged, “But he worked for my grandpapa.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Ruby said urgently, “He’s a monster hunter.”

Henry stiffened, “What?”

“Before he began working with Gold,” Ruby replied, “He used to track down and kill monsters. Granny said he killed my grandfather, but nothing was ever proven.”

Henry was quiet for a moment as he ate. Swallowing he asked, “What do you think we should do? He wanted grandpapa to call him.”

“I think you should speak to Gold,” Ruby took his plate from him, “Dove would be a good asset to have on our side, but…..his loyalty is to Gold and only to Gold.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully, “I’ll do that as soon as I get back to the apartment.”

Ruby nodded and motioned for him to go. Henry dashed back behind the counter and slipped out the door without anyone noticing. He quickly made his way back to his grandparent’s apartment and was feeling pretty good about himself as he unlocked the door. He walked in and turned to go upstairs when he froze. Looking over his shoulder he saw David casually sitting on the couch, staring at him.

“Hello Henry,” David said darkly, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Henry swallowed, “Hey grandpa…..”

David glared at him and Henry winced, “Where were you?”

“I….” Henry began, trying desperately to think of a lie when David snapped, “Drop that conniving Rumplestilskin look and tell me the truth.”

Henry’s jaw clenched, “Why does everyone use that as an insult?”

“What?”

“Every time I do something someone dislikes they compare me to grandpapa,” Henry gritted his teeth, “It’s annoying.”

“Grandpapa?” David said slowly, “I wasn’t aware you called him that.”

“He’s my grandfather,” Henry replied, his tone hard, “Despite what everybody wants.”

David didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally he asked, “Where were you?”

“At Granny’s,” Henry replied with a sigh, “I didn’t want to go to school and Ruby gave me food.”

“Why didn’t you want to go to school?” David asked, crossing his arms

“I just didn't,” Henry replied petulantly.

“I don’t think you're being truthful,” David’s tone turned lecturing, “Heroes don’t lie.”

Henry snorted, “Hero's lie all the time.”

David began to argue but Henry cut him off, “Emma lies to herself about loving Hook. You lie to yourself about how proud of her you are, and grandma lies about how much she likes mom now.”

David didn’t say anything, he just stared at Henry. How was it that he was so observant? He didn’t remember being that observant when he was thirteen, but then again….he wasn’t raised by the Evil Queen, kidnapped by Peter Pan, and the grandson of the Dark One.

“I am proud of Emma,” David said carefully, “I’m just ... .worried.”

“She’s failing,” Henry said, his voice hard, “I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but she’s failing and she refuses to see it. Both my moms are.”

David sighed and rubbed his face. He was so tired. Even before the Dark Curse was cast he hadn’t been able to rest. Now, as he looked at the young boy before him, he realized that he was letting his grandson down.

“What’s the plan then?” David asked sarcastically, “Do we kidnap them and make them talk about their problems?”

“It’s worse than that,” Henry replied, shaking his head, “If we don’t do something, Storybrooke is going to implode.”

“Then what do you propose kiddo? Because I have no idea how to stop it!”

Quietly, Henry asked, “It depends on how much you hate grandpapa.”

David sighed as he watched Henry glare at him. He knew if he said the wrong thing, he would lose Henry for good, but he refused to lie.

“I’m not fond of him,” David replied, swallowing, “He’s the reason that I was separated from my family.”

Henry shook his head, “Not the only reason. Mom cast the Dark Curse. Grandpapa didn’t make her. She did it willingly.”

Begrudgingly, David said, “You're right.”

“So why forgive her, but not him?” Henry asked quietly.

David swallowed and looked away. He wasn’t sure why, but he was leery around the Dark One. Even after everything that had happened with Pan and Zelena, he felt no loyalty to him. Regina was just as much, if not more, at fault for his misfortunes and yet he chose to lay it all at Rumplestilskin’s feet.

Quietly, David said, “He’s not……like us.”

“No,” Henry agreed, his voice dripping with disappointment, “He’s always been different.”

David looked at Henry and felt guilty. The boy looked so upset and David hated to be the cause of it.

“I could have probably learned to get along with Rumplestilskin,” David replied carefully, “before he tried to kill Hook and trap Emma in that hat.”

Henry shook his head, “And yet you didn’t.”

“No,” David agreed, “I didn’t.”

“Yet you're fine with spending time with a child-snatching pirate,” Henry snapped frustrated, “and the Evil Queen.”

David frowned, stubborn in his conviction that Rumpelstilskin was the problem, “He tried to hurt my daughter Henry.”

“Mom tried to kill her,” Henry pointed out, “Hook too.”

David pressed his lips together in frustration. It wasn’t the same, but he knew he wouldn't be able to convince Henry of that.

Henry chuckled mirthlessly and said, “Nevermind grandpa.”

“Go to your room, young man,” David commanded, disliking Henry’s tone.

“Fine,” Henry said, his voice turning mocking, “But when you're tired of cleaning up everyone else's mess, let me know. I have a few ideas on how to fix it.”

Then Henry turned and sauntered up the stairs, desperately clinging to his confidence until he could make it to his room and have a good cry. David watched Henry leave and felt his stomach twist. He had a bad feeling about the direction of his and Henry’s relationship. All because of Rumpelstiltskin. Couldn’t Henry see the monster wasn’t worth it?

Sighing, David ran his fingers through his hair. He really hated Rumpelstiltskin. Even when he wasn’t around, he was still a thorn in his side.

Belle swallowed back nausea as she left the pawn shop and hurried to open the library. Her head was throbbing and her stomach was rolling, but she wasn’t going to submit to her hangover. That would be admitting her husband was right about something, which she refused to do.

What she couldn’t understand was why she was so jealous of Rumpelstiltskin’s new “friend”. She was seeing someone else and the relationship seemed promising. She knew it was soon after their separation, but she had never just dated a man before. She was enjoying the novelty.

Still, she had been getting strange looks from people. She knew it was because she gave Will a job running the pawnshop. It looked like she had seemingly replaced her husband with her boyfriend. Yet, she convinced herself it was more out of necessity than replacement. While she found herself enamored of Will, she wondered whether it was love. Until she knew for certain, she wasn’t changing her routine.

Of course, her uncertainty about Will was only growing the more she thought about Rumpelstiltskin. Their marriage wasn’t supposed to be like this; seemingly over before it started. They were supposed to be True Love and each other’s Happy Endings. Now, all she felt was frustration, jealousy, and anger.

Sliding her hand into her purse she gripped the dagger and thought about calling her husband. She didn’t know if it would work with the magical barrier surrounding Storybrooke, but she was tempted to find out. She was so angry with him. While she knew it would hurt him to see her with Will, she felt grim satisfaction at the idea that he would be jealous. That he would be forced to watch as she was happy elsewhere.

That he would be punished.

Realizing the direction of her thoughts, Belle quickly pulled her hand from the dagger. Horrified, she began walking faster, jogging the last little bit to the library. As she fumbled for her key, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d been thinking. Finally getting the door open, Belle walked inside and forced herself to focus on the library. She refused to dwell on her darker impulses. She refused to become Lacey.

Across the street, Cogsworth winced as Mrs. Gold slipped her hand into her purse. Seeing the spiteful look that graced her normally friendly features, he sighed in disappointment. It was as he feared, the dagger was corrupting her.

He often watched Belle. Her insistence on carrying the dagger around like a trophy put her in danger and he knew his master would be upset should something happen to her or his dagger. He couldn’t decide if she was brave, stupid, or thoughtless. She needed to put the dagger somewhere safe, yet she couldn’t seem to part with it.

There had been a few opportunities to steal it, but he stopped himself every time, frightened of what he would become should the dagger dig its claws into him. Rumpelstiltskin had often said the dagger held an influence over those who tried to wield it. That slowly, it corrupted them. There was a price to enslavement for both the slave and the slaver and Cogsworth was leery about paying it.

Would he be better or worse than Belle? Would the dagger goad him into killing his master? Or would it push Cogsworth into enslaving him? He wasn’t a good man and he knew that if Belle could be corrupted by the dagger, then he too would fall prey.

Therefore, Cogsworth did the only thing he could. He continued watching. He made sure that nobody else tried to steal the dagger and he kept trying to call Rumpelstiltskin.. All there was to do was bide his time and remain observant.

Luckily, Cogsworth was a patient man.

London

Rumpelstiltskin was starting to regret that he had ever allowed Harriet to pick the movies. She had warned him about the genre, but he hadn’t thought it would bother him.

He’d been wrong.

“Can we watch something else?” Rumple pleaded after the third movie.

“Why?”

“I’m about to go through a divorce, dear,” Rumple replied, his voice flat, “I don’t really want to watch people get their happy endings.”

“Oh,” Harriet said quietly, biting her lip, “I’m sorry…..I didn’t even think.”

“I honestly didn’t think it would bother me,” Rumple replied, his voice tired, “but it does.”

Which annoyed Rumple. How was it that despite his increasing attraction to Harriet, he was still heartbroken over Belle? How was it even possible that he was so split down the middle? Just this morning he had contemplated seducing Harriet and now he was sitting beside her, morse over his cheating wife. Why was he so fickle all of a sudden? He’d never been before. Once he trusted someone, he was disgustingly loyal.

Maybe that was the problem?

In the Enchanted Forest, Belle had been caring, kind, and sure of who she was. Rumple had admired her for it and slowly began to fall in love. Trust followed love and soon he was certain that she would never hurt him.

Except she had, over and over again. With every insistence that he could be better, she let him know he wasn’t good enough. With every scolding, he felt the need to hide more of himself from her. He cringed whenever she found out something new about his past because he knew she would be upset. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but it happened. He could no more change his ill deeds, then he could move the stars. He didn’t expect her to be happy about them, but he had thought she would give him some grace.

How had he fooled himself so thoroughly?

“She would have broken the curse,” Rumple thought desperately to himself. Yet how was that possible if he wasn’t actually cursed?

“You’re overthinking this,” The Darkness snapped.

“I’m confused,” Rumple growled, “and you don’t know anymore than me!”

The Darkness refused to say more and Rumplestiltskin was once again alone with his thoughts.

Harriet watched as Rumple stared ahead, not even blinking, and sighed. He was retreating into his mind again.

“What do you want to watch next?” Harriet asked, trying to regain his attention,“I’ve always liked Phantom of the Opera.”

Rumple growled, “Doesn’t he get passed over for a young rich Viscount?”

Harriet grimaced, “Yes, but the Phantom was stalking her so…..”

Rumple just glared at her. Sighing, she said, “Well……I don’t think you want to watch Beauty and the Beast, Rum.”

“Do you have anything other than romance?”

Harriet winced and shook her head and Rumple sighed in irritation. She didn’t watch movies often, but when she did it was always romance. It helped fill the longing for love in her life.

“What else can we do?” Harriet asked, twirling her hair with her finger and biting her lip. Rumple looked over at her and fought the urge to pull her into his arms. She looked adorable in her uncertainty.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, “Let’s go back to the Forbidden Forest.”

Harriet made a face, “I don’t want to hike.”

“Then I’m out of ideas.”

“Let’s go to Honeydukes,” Harriet exclaimed, excitedly shaking his arm, “That could be fun!.”

“Aberforth will recognize me,” Rumple muttered, ignoring her, “If he’s still alive.”

Harriet deflated and leaned her head back, “He is.”

“Next idea,” Rumple muttered.

“Well…..” Harriet said as a slow grin began to spread across her face, “We could steal your wand?”

Rumple sat up and looked at Harriet, excitedly,“ You’re serious?”

Harriet shrugged, “Sure, why not?

Rumple frowned, “You’re very nonchalant about stealing from the Ministry.”

Harriet laughed bitterly, “They’re no better than the death eaters they trained me to hunt. Forgive me if I’m not broken-hearted about it.”

Rumple frowned, “ What do you mean?”

Harriet looked confused for a moment but then realization crossed her face, “ Oh, right…..you don’t know.”

She then launched into a very detailed explanation about what had happened in the last twelve years with the magical creatures and half-bloods. Rumple stared at her in horrified fascination.

“It doesn’t sound like your side won the war, Beauty,” Rumple muttered.

“No,” Harriet replied, her voice regretful, “It doesn’t, does it?”

“It sounds like the worst of my death eaters took over.” Rumple muttered regretfully.

“Or Dolores Umbridge.”

Rumple made a face, "She’s who I was speaking of.”

Harriet and Rumple glanced at each other and then shivered in unison.

“I hated that witch,” Rumple muttered, “She refused to shut up about the werewolves and vampires that sided with us. No matter how many times I threatened to torture her.”

“Well at least you didn’t have to deal with her fucking blood quill.” Harriet snapped, causing Rumple to frown.

“Excuse me?” Rumple growled.

“She used a blood quill on us for detention,” Harriet sneered, raising her right hand, “and guess who had the most detentions with her?”

Rumple didn’t see anything at first, but then the glamor Harriet used to hide her scar fell, and Rumple gasped. “I will not tell lies” was written across the back of her hand in a lovely flowing script. It was faded, but still legible. Gently, Rumple took her hand and ran his finger across the scar. Harriet grimaced.

“Does it hurt?” Rumple asked quietly, afraid he had been hurting her unknowingly.

“No,” Harriet replied dully, “It doesn’t hurt anymore, I just hate seeing it.”

“Do you constantly use a glamor?” Rumple frowned, his eyes never leaving her hand.

“Lately I have.”

“You’re over using your magic Beauty,” Rumple scolded, “You’re too run-down to maintain spells like this.”

“I know,” Harriet replied, running her fingers through her hair in irritation, “It’s just……a trigger, Rum.”

“For your drinking?”

Harriet nodded helplessly. His face softening, Rumple brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her scar, his eyes never leaving hers. It surprised him that he never noticed the glamor, but Harriet was a talented witch. If anyone could get something past him, it would be her.

Harriet’s eyes lingered on his until she began to feel a tingle. Frowning, she pulled her hand away and gasped when she saw the scar had become unreadable. Tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes as she stared at her hand.

“I wish I could make them go away completely,” Rumple said tenderly, "but blood quills are cursed objects and you’ve had this scar for a long time.”

Harriet sniffed and looked from her hand to Rumple. With tears in her eyes, she launched herself at him and he enveloped her into a hug. When her shoulders began to shake, Rumple began humming quietly into her ear, running his fingers down her back.

“Thank you,” Harriet whispered, pulling back slightly so she could see his face. Rumple swallowed and wordlessly nodded. She was so close, just a dip of his head and their lips would touch. Unconsciously, Harriet liked her lips and Rumple barely stifled a groan. His eyes began to dilate, and he was a second from recklessly kissing her, when his phone began to ring.

Stifling an irritated growl, he pulled away and quickly answered it.

“Hey Grandpapa,” Henry sniffed.

“What’s wrong lad?” Rumple asked, all desire evaporated at Henry’s tone. He hated how unhappy Henry was of late.

“Grandpa,” Henry replied with a frown, “He doesn’t like you.”

“No David doesn’t,” Rumple agreed with a grimace, “But why does that bother you?”

“I just wish everyone would stop comparing me to you whenever I do something they don’t like!” Henry burst out and Rumple winced.

“They do that?” Rumple asked quietly, wincing.

“Yes,” Henry whispered, “I’m sorry grandpapa, but they do it all the time.”

Rumple just sighed. “It’s how they view me, Henry.” Swallowing, he said, “And I don’t blame them. I haven’t shown them my best over the years.”

“Bullshit,” Henry snapped. Rumple was about to scold him for cussing when Henry cut him off, “You helped save me from Pan and you sacrificed yourself to save this stupid town!”

“Henry,” Rumple began, “That doesn’t matter to them lad. I’ve done too much for them to believe I can ever be redeemed.”

“I hate it,” Henry replied, his voice dripping with frustration.

“I don’t like it either,” Rumple agreed with frustration of his own.

Suddenly Henry became very quiet and whispered, “I got to go before grandpa finds out I’m talking to you……” Then he whispered, “Call Mr. Cogsworth.”

The line went dead, and Rumple sighed. He enjoyed speaking to his grandson but hated that he couldn’t be there for him. The young boy was going through more than any child had to bear, yet nobody in his family seemed willing to offer him any guidance.

“Don’t worry Rum,” Harriet said, taking his hand and squeezing it, “We’ll be there with him soon.”

Rumple just nodded, not as convinced as she was. Their discussion about Zelena had made him even more paranoid about the dagger. Not that he thought Harriet would hurt him like Zelena had, but what if she betrayed him some other way? She had the potential to hurt him worse than anyone he’d ever known. He didn’t think he could function if she betrayed him.

Quite frankly he was frightened.

“Like you wouldn’t mind if she used us as her fuck….” The Darkness began, but Rumple just pushed its venom to the back of his mind. He wasn’t even going to entertain the idea that he would be okay with that type of relationship with Harriet. There was no doubt he desired her, but he also wanted her friendship, her loyalty, and her forgiveness. No matter how tempting she felt in his arms, he refused to take anything less than her love. Which was something he was sure she would never give and even if she did, did he really want it? Or was it a side effect from the horcruxes?

Until he could answer that, he had no right to speculate

Patting her hand, Rumple stood and looked at his phone, “I need to call Cogsworth.”

“Cogsworth?” Harriet asked, perplexed, “Like the movie?”

“Yes,” Rumple replied with a smirk, “Like the movie.”

“Was there a Mrs. Potts and Lumire too?” Harriet asked teasingly, but then frowned when she saw the sadness in Rumple’s eyes.

“Just Cogsworth. Mrs. Potts left my employ some time ago and I’m not sure what happened to Lumiere.”

“Oh,” Harriet’s smile faded, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Rumple just nodded and walked into the kitchenette. Dialing Cogsworth’s number he listened to it ring before he answered.

“Sir?” Cogsworths asked, his voice guarded.

“Ah, Cogsworth,” Rumple replied, wincing at how restrained Cogsworths sounded. He hadn’t taken that tone with him since he first started working for him.

“Are you alright sir?” Cogsworth asked and Rumple could hear worry in his voice despite his obvious upset.

“I’m fine,” Rumple replied with real affection, “After a fashion.”

“Sir?”

“I wasn’t myself for quite some time,” Rumple replied quietly, “I’ve only recently come back to myself.”

Cogsworth was quiet for a moment, “Tell me where you are sir and I’ll come and pick you up.”

“I’m in England,” Rumple replied, smiling fondly, “And I’m perfectly safe right now. I’m staying with a friend.”

“A friend sir?” Cogsworth echoed, “But who do you know in the Land Without Magic?”

“Land of Hidden Magic,” Rumpelstiltskin corrected, “This world isn’t without its magic Dove. It’s a land I’ve been to before.”

“Sir?” Cogsworth replied, his voice uncertain but Rumple cut him off, “It’s a lot to explain and I’ve only recently remembered most of it. Ask Henry. He will tell you.”

“Yes sir,” Cogsworth said. Quietly he continued, “I have been spying on Mrs. Gold sir.”

“Have you?” Rumple said, his voice tight and Harriet looked at him in alarm, “I know about her affair.”

“Yes I had heard sir,” Cogsworth replied, an edge to his voice and Rumple winced. He should have called Cogsworth sooner, “But I am speaking about your dagger sir. She is carrying it around in her bag. Micheal tried to convince her to give it to him, but she refused.”

Rumple sighed, “Has there been an opportunity to steal it?”

“There has,” Cogsworth confirmed, “But ... .I'm afraid of it. The dagger seems to be a corrupting influence on her and…. what would it do to me sir?”

Rumple’s face fell. Finally, he asked softly, “She’s that bad?”

“I wonder if it isn't’ responsible for her affair sir.” Cogsworth replied.

“I don’t care if it is,” Rumple snarled, his hurt feelings flaming his anger, "She shouldn’t have been carrying the thing around!”

Harriet stood and reached her hand out for the phone. Frowning, Rumple nodded and handed it to her.

“Hello? Mr. Cogsworth?” Harriet asked, there was only heavy breathing on the phone and then a man’s voice asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Rumple’s friend,” Harriet replied with a smile, “Beauty. I was thinking about the dagger.”

“Oh?” Cogsworth said, his voice even more guarded than before.

“Yes,” Harriet replied cheerfully, ignoring how unfriendly Cogsworth was, “And I was wondering if you could possibly get your hands on a lead lined vault of some kind?”

“A vault Ms. Beauty?” Cogsworth echoed, bewildered.

“Yes,” Harriet replied, smiling conspiratorially at Rumple, who looked confused, “I think it would be best if we buried that dagger where no one can find it.”

Cogsworth said nothing for a moment and then, “Yes ma'am.”

“Good,” Harriet chirped happily, “Here’s Rum.” Then she handed the phone back to Rumple, who smirked at her.

“Cogsworth?” Rumple asked.

“Yes sir,” Cogsworth replied, a smile in his voice.

“I think Beauty might have the right idea,” Rumple said quietly.

“I’ll have one commissioned sir,” Cogsworth replied, “I’ll call you when it's ready.”

“Thank you Cogsworth,” Rumple replied, “And I’ll contact Henry.”

“I think Mr. Mills may be afraid of me sir,” Cogsworth muttered embarrassedly and then bid his employer a respectful goodbye.

Rumple put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Harriet, “Do you really want to give up the power of the dagger?”

“Power of the dagger?” Harriet asked, perplexed, “Does it do more than control you?”

“No,” Rumple replied quietly.

“I’ll not enslave you Rumple,” Harriet replied quietly, “I’ll not hurt you like that.”

They stared at each other for a moment, until Harriet took a step forward and cupped his cheek, “How could you think me so cruel after what you confided in me?”

“I….” Rumple whispered, leaning into her hand. Harriet’s breath caught but she forced herself to react normally. He’d been rather affectionate today, but they had also learned vulnerable information about each other. They both needed reassurance and she refused to let her imagination run wild because of it. She would not allow her emotions to overtake her. She refused to be caught up. For once, she was going to think before she acted.

Pulling away she turned to grab her shoes and asked, “Do you still want your wand?”

Rumple cleared his throat and nodded. Faintly he said, “Of course.”

“Then hurry up and let’s shove off!” Harriet replied, looking at the kitchenette clock, “It’ll be better to steal it during lunch.”

“Let me grab a stick to transfigure,” Rumple muttered as he quickly exited the apartment for the gardens. Harriet frowned as she contemplated the backdoor. It had been years since she used it, preferring to give Teddy and Remus their privacy. The only reason she kept the backdoor at all was because she felt claustrophobic without it.

Rumple quickly limped back into the apartment, a mischievous smile on his lips as he held up a stick, “This will do. It’s even the same wood as the wand.”

“Good,” Harriet smiled in satisfaction, “It’ll be harder to change back.”

With a flourish, Rumple turned the stick into a perfect copy of his wand. Smirking he asked, “Who said they would be able to transfigure it back?”

Harriet giggled and ushered him out of the apartment. Quickly she crossed the foyer and unlocked the invisible door, ushering Rumple inside. The door sealed itself behind him.

“Now,” Harriet said, a mischievous smile of her own., “Let’s see what trouble we can get into.”

Rumple smirked as he watched Harriet saunter down the stairs, eyes wandering to her backside. She was the complete package, beauty, brains, and brawn. What more could he ask for in a woman?

Unfortunately, his mind then wandered to Belle, and he thought about Cogsworth speculations. Could his dagger have something to do with Belle’s infidelity? All horcruxes were a corrupting influence and he had long speculated that the dagger worked the same way. Could he really blame Belle for what the dagger encouraged her to do?

And If so, what did that mean for his marriage? Of his friendship with Harriet?

Grimacing Rumple followed Harriet down the stairs, once again conflicted about what his heart truly wanted.