WHO: Imogen & Gilbert Ollivander. WHAT: Making decisions. WHEN: LAST NIGHT - April 15, 2018. WHERE: Ollivander's. WARNINGS: None.
Imogen was fidgety all evening, unable to forget Nora's warning. She'd avoided any prolonged interactions with Clement at Mungo's, ducked out of the break room when he entered for lunch, and didn't even bother complaining when he assigned her extra patients that she had no time within her already overtime shift to see.
"Gil?" she began, before sucking in a deep breath and locking eyes with her husband. "I think you need to quit. The DMLE. It's not safe for you there."
“It's not safe for anyone anywhere,” Gilbert countered, wrapping an arm around Imogen's waist and pulling her to him. “Are you going to quit?”
"Okay, but it's especially not safe for you. There's, what, 3 Death Eaters we know about in your office? There's only one in mine so far. And Richenza's dead." The last part came out much more calmer and detached than she'd felt, like she was just reciting a fact instead of still processing how she'd missed her former friend's evil allegiances.
Gilbert didn't know why he was so resistant to the idea considering it wasn't even what he wanted to do. He hated the job; he wanted to go back to wand making.
“Let's leave,” he said, bringing back their previous topic of conversation. “America. Let's just go.”
Imogen slipped her hand into his and squeezed. "Okay." And then she paused. "What about your parents? And your grandfather?"
“We'll see if my parents want to come,” he said, then paused, frowning. They wouldn't, especially not while his grandfather was unaccounted for.
He dropped her hand and turned towards the sink, starting to wash the dinner dishes. “He's probably dead, if we're being honest.”
"Gil," Imogen started, hating the sudden wall he was putting between them. She moved towards him and hugged him from behind, kissing his shoulder. "We can't think like that."
“What's the alternative? Hope he's alive and risk being disappointed?”
"There's been no confirmation," Imogen reminded him. "Maybe they still need him alive?"
“Maybe,” he said, though he was unconvinced. “Even if he's alive, though, what is us being here going to help? I can't,” his voice broke, and he paused, collecting himself before he continued. “I might have lost him already, I can't lose you too.”
"Gilbert." Imogen waited for her husband to turn and face her before she reached up and cupped his face with her hands. "You're not losing me. Ever."
“You think Rhys and Nora had that same conversation?” he asked helplessly. “We don't get to control that as much as we'd like to think.”
A lump stuck in her throat, and any words that she'd meant to say were trapped within it. So instead Imogen kissed him — as passionately as she had when they were pronounced Husband & Wife at the makeshift altar at his family's estate.
"Then we leave," she said firmly. "Write your resignation, I'll write mine, and let's just — take our savings and go. We'll figure the rest out."
Gilbert couldn't find the right words so instead he just nodded, tightening his arms around her waist. He didn't like the idea of leaving people - his family, his friends - but after Keaton and then Rhys, after discovering his brother in law was a Death Eater, after seeing what the war was doing to people and families, he knew he couldn't risk it. He needed Imogen, and the best way to make sure he wouldn't lose her was for them to leave.