"Keep our stories straight?" Roy patted his chest. "No problem. What should we say?"
Will said, "Nothing, really. Weiznan wants you to tell everyone you don't know anything. The family fortune was split in two back then. Dumbledore has one share; the other is yours. There's nothing in it but Galleons."
Roy nodded. "No problem at all. If necessary, I'll alter my memory."
Will glanced at Roy in surprise. The old man's a decent sort.
"Let's have some tea, Will. We can talk properly when Victor gets back."
They went into the pavilion, but within minutes, Roy and his wife Dallis excused themselves, saying they had something to attend to. Only Will and Sylvia remained.
Will watched Roy disappear into the shadows of the castle's side entrance.
The back garden of Lestrange Manor was beautiful. A row of yews stood near the pavilion, their dark green foliage gleaming in the sunlight, trimmed with meticulous care.
Will and Sylvia continued drinking their tea.
"Are you planning something again?" Sylvia looked up, a trace of unease hidden in her dark brown eyes.
Will picked up the teapot and poured himself another cup. "I can't stay out of it, honey."
Sylvia lifted her cup and gazed down at the tea.
"Don't worry." Will patted the back of her hand. "Don't be upset."
"I'm not upset." Sylvia pressed her lips together slightly.
"I was just thinking," she said. "When will we stop having to think about all this—danger, business, the market, Voldemort, the Death Eaters—and just go somewhere together, quietly, without worrying about our safety?"
Will was silent for a moment. Then he said with certainty, "That day will come."
Sylvia turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and Will thought hers held a clear spring.
"Promise?" she said.
"Promise." Will reached out