Yer a Wizard, Julian

The time was now about 7am: Lucius Malfoy had left some time ago, but Julian was completely unable to return and focus on the work he'd been interrupted from, or even begin to contemplate sleep, which was a commonplace occurrence in any case. He lay full length on his bed, legs loosely crossed, arms above his head and hands clasped together and cradling his neck above the pillow.

Two main aspects of his life now were adrift, and while he was used to being on the move and most recently had expected even more major upheavals, this was from a totally new direction and had him somewhat flummoxed.

The first was that he now had, apparently, a completely new range of skills to develop, and the most exciting aspect of this was that it seemed he now had the ability to travel at will, even from within a secure location, to anywhere in the world: or would, once he learned the required techniques. This would come in handy for any number of reasons, but he knew he would have to be incredibly careful. Discretion was perhaps not his greatest suit, but there were, apparently, spells to cover indiscretions also. This pleased him, and the opportunities these skills would allow him to further his causes were truly breathtaking, and he wondered how many others behind the scenes also had these powers - because of course, there must logically be more. It just added an incredible layer of complexity over what was already a very complex world. This didn't daunt Julian in the slightest; if anything, it increased his focus.

The second was harder to think about. This was - his family. He'd been close to his mother out of necessity rather than choice, and now he had some pretty serious questions to put to her. That would be unavoidable - while Julian was an incredibly private person despite being so morally driven for transparency in government, he was also incredibly open and honest with those behind the wall, and the idea that his own mother could have held back something this important from him was quite impossible to fathom. What possibly could have driven her to such a cover up? He was itching to know, but he needed to be rested before he confronted her with this.

No, for now, he needed to go back over his own life, try to work out when he may have unconsciously exercised innate magical ability, and how he could begin to develop this more consciously. His early days travelling so widely, he imagined there must have been times there were incidents, and the nomadic lifestyle of his mother influenced by these. After all it is far easier to simply disappear than deal with awkward questions...

But more recently, the nominal cause of his current legal status... now that was cause for more internal searching. His mind turned to Anna, the woman he felt was the key to all this.

He thought back to his time in her company back in August. She was an odd one, there was no doubt about it. Fiery and passionate - but completely batshit crazy, as anyone expressing anti-abortion sentiment alongside feminism would need to be to reconcile any kind of worldview at all. He did have a thing for crazy though - drawn to it, perhaps because of his own incongruences. He was hardly the most stable individual, and while his "outlaw" status was clearly a draw to some, they themselves needed to be beyond the norm for he to have any inkling of attraction to them.

But with Anna... what exactly had he done? He'd accepted an invitation, she'd in fact been blatantly overt in her desire for him. The sex had been good enough - at least, that was how he remembered it - raw, fierce, sweaty and hard - not brutal or violent, but certainly not tender and lovestruck - that really wasn't his style. He liked sex. It confirmed his humanity, the pure essence of being alive, gasping and coiling and driving to get a grasp on another being, even for a fleeting moment, that never seemed to last long enough, and always left with a vague sense of loss and disappointment once the climax passed. That yearning could be painful, even brutal - but mentally rather than physically. And if pressed, he had to admit he did like it rougher than most - but never without consent. If he ever heard a whimper or a cry of "stop, please don't" - he'd honour that request. But these kinds of requests rarely came, even if sometimes the looks in their eyes were a little fearful - well, why wouldn't they be? He was a strange and driven man, he was not like the majority, and few had even a modicum of the intelligence to converse on a level with him, let alone understand him. And copulating with such an enigma as he had created himself to embody - well, he was used to fearful, awestruck reactions;he didn't endear - he fascinated and frightened. Sometimes, that worked for a while, made for good chemistry, initial attraction. More often, it backfired when what they wanted to see in him didn't turn out to be reality, and the washing away of illusions was painful and abrupt. And something he simply wasn't inclined to make easier.

It was of course worse when he was clearly not being discreet enough with his liaisons, and he noted with some chagrin - some of these after-effects could well be avoided if he could see further into these womans' minds, be sure of their intent, and give them a sense of his, before allowing things to go further.

Yes. It would be possible soon, would it not? To read minds... that would be a most wonderful ability. He could really trust then. And relax. And truly be at home.

The thought was so comforting, he felt his eyelids begin to grow heavier. And a bit heavier. Blessed sleep was finally here.