The Beginning.

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Willow Potter sat tensely in her seat as she watched him work himself into a rage. His temper had only grown since their school days together, and now she was ashamed to admit that she was rather afraid of him. Ron Weasley had been her first friend. Her first crush. He had fought beside her during the war with Voldemort, and afterwards, when there had been immense pressure on her from the public to see her tie herself to the wizarding world further, she had turned to him for reassurance. Ron was familiar, safe. Or at least, he had been. They had dated until she was nineteen, and then he had proposed. Then, when she was twenty, they had married. The wedding had been huge, with all the Weasleys, her high school friends, important members of government and of course, the nobility of the wizarding world that weren't in jail for being Death Eaters, seeing as she was the head of two Ancient and Noble houses and the descendent of Merlin and Morgana. And she had regretted every moment of it through the whole thing. She had known, even then, that it was a mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to say no. She had thought she would at least have her job to retreat to. She had been a year from completing her training as a healer, when they had married, but afterwards, Ron had forced her to give her career up. She should have known he would want a house wife. He, of course, had gotten a job as an Auror and progressed quickly through the ranks due to his participation in the war. The only professional stance she had was her place as head of the Potter and Black families and the heir of Merlin and Morgana on the Wizengamot.

She hadn't wanted children yet, she wasn't ready, so, in secret, she had used contraceptive charms and potions, to wait until she was ready. A year after being married, Ron had begun getting angry. He would lash out at anything and everything. Including her. At first, she was just subjected to his rants, but then, it escalated. She slowly raised her hand and touched her cheek. Some bruise paste later would take care of the quickly forming bruise there. He had come home in an awful mood and hit out at her. He had then gone into a long rant. She was sure that the bruise on her cheek wouldn't be the only bruise she had later.

"Are you even listening to me?" Ron demanded angrily.

"Of course I am! And you're absolutely right. It was completely wrong of Kingsley to give the case to Perkins. You are after all Head Auror, and you did make a massive contribution to the war. A case this big should have been given straight to you, dear. Especially if the minister himself requested it be done." She hated sucking up. She knew Kingsley wouldn't have requested Perkins if he didn't have a reason. But, she knew that if she made out like she was fully on his side, he was liable to calm down somewhat.

"Exactly!" He threw his arms up into the air in frustration and then went to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a drink of fire whiskey. She held back the flinch. This wasn't good.

So, she stood. "I'll go put dinner on. Steak alright tonight?"

He nodded, so she made a quick exit. A little while later, they were eating their food and Willow was doing her best to make herself as small as possible. He was already half drunk. When they had finished, Willow went to clear the table, but Ron grabbed her wrist.

"Leave it. Come 'ere." He pulled her onto his lap.

"Ron, you're drunk." Willow said, trying to push him away.

His grip tightened. "You're my wife, and you'll do what I say."

"Ron, you're hurting me." She said, trying to pull away from him. His hands grasped her upper arms and he snarled. She could smell the large amount of alcohol on his breath. He roughly pushed her against the table before pinning her hands together and grabbing her wand, and throwing it away from him. Something inside of her snapped then, and she lashed out. Her foot came up and connected with his balls, and he let her go, and fell back, clutching his balls, assuming the foetal position on the floor. Willow ran for her wand and grabbed it, before stunning him. It had been three years of hell, and four years of regretting her decision, and now she was finally doing something about it. She didn't know why she hadn't done something before, but now she was. And that was what mattered.

Willow ran to her and Ron's bedroom and grabbed a bag that had an undetectable extension charm placed on it. With a flick of her wand, she had all her belongings flying inside, packing themselves neatly. When all her things were inside, she opened the bedroom door carefully. She could hear Ron snoring under the stunner, so she stepped out, grabbed her keys and fled the large apartment they lived in.

She apparated onto the steps of Gringotts and pulled her cloak hood up. She hoped the house was ready. She had been doing up one of the Potter houses in London as an anniversary present to Ron. He had started getting a little suspicious of her not getting pregnant yet, so she had paid her estate manager to have it done up so it was modern, yet connected to the wizarding world. The townhouse was large, and had a nice, spacious garden, and she was going to use the excuse of moving in as planning ahead for when they finally managed to have kids. The house was large enough to raise a family, after all. It was three stories tall, plus an attic. Apparently, the attic and the third floor were all part of a library now, and the middle floor had four bedrooms, two of which were en-suite, while the other two shared a bathroom. There was also a storage room on that floor. Then, the ground floor had a large living room, dining room, kitchen and pantry and there was a large pool in the conservatory.

Willow walked into Gringotts and asked a teller to see Eargit. She was quickly led to his office, and only when it was just her and the ageing goblin did she lower her hood. The goblin's eyebrows rose at the sight of the bruise.

"Lady Potter-Black, may I ask what has brought you here this late, and in such a state?" Eargit asked.

"Is the house ready, Eargit?"

"It is. I was actually about to send you a letter."

"May I have the keys? And, do not tell my husband where to find me. I need to be away from him."

"Do you wish for a divorce? I can have the papers drawn up."

The insightful goblin had read into the one bruise and drawn the correct conclusion. This had been going on for a while. She hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes. Yes I would very much appreciate it. Thank you Eargit."

"It is no problem, Lady Potter-Black." He said, and he handed over the keys to the house. "Rest assured I will handle all the necessary transactions and have the papers ready for you soon."

She nodded and stood. They said their goodbyes and left the office and then the bank, pulling her hood back up as she went. When she was outside the bank wards, she turned on her heel and apparated away and reappeared in the street the town house was located in.

Willow hadn't bothered with anything when she had let herself into the house, she had just gone to her room which was in blues and gold's, with a large black leather bed with dark blue silk sheets and a blue and gold comforter, and taken her cloak and shoes off and fallen onto the bed and fallen asleep. So, when she was woken up by a loud howling wind several hours later, she was completely surprised. She ran from the room and ran downstairs, following something that was tugging at her gut. She headed through the house, and then through the conservatory, walking around the pool, just as a massive funnel landed in her large back garden. She stopped and watched in awe as it swirled for about a minute in one place, and then just stopped and cleared. She gasped when she saw someone lying on the ground, motionless.

She ran outside, and saw it was a man. His face was pale, angular. His hair was inky black and slicked backwards, and spiked out at the ends. What drew another gasp from her; however, were the stitches that sewed his mouth shut. He began to stir, and open his eyes, and as she watched, stunned, the stitches began to clear away. She snapped out of it, and knelt down beside him. Willow placed a hand on his cheek and his green eyes opened and met hers. She could see the dazed and confused look in his eyes.

"Sir, can you hear me? Are you alright?" She asked. Then she shook her head. "What am I saying? Of course you're not alright. You fell from the sky and a minute ago had stiches sewing your mouth shut. Hold on, I'm going to get you to a hospital."

"No… hospitals." He gasped out.

"You really need one."

"No." He said, a little more forcefully.

"May as well get you inside, at least, then, if you won't let me take you to a hospital." Willow said. "I'll be able to support you inside, if you're up for trying to stand."

He tried to get up himself, but his arms shook so she grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up. He leant on her heavily and she wrapped her arm round his waist. He was very tall; the top of her head would come to rest just under his chin if he stood straight. They made their way back to the house, but their progress was slow going. Especially when she had to help him up the stairs. She knew it was awful of her to be thankful, but she really was thankful that he was so thin. He must have had those stitches in for a while, because he seemed to have not eaten in a while.

Willow supported him upstairs and into the green bedroom. It was the other one with the en-suite. She got him to the bed, and he collapsed onto it, a moan leaving him, and his eyes closing. His breathing began to even out and become deeper. She pulled out her wand and ran a couple of diagnostic spells. He was alright, just exhausted and malnourished. She put her wand back in its holster, and turned to leave. A vice like grip caught her wrist and she turned to face the man on the bed.

"You- have… magic." He rasped out.

She nodded. "Yes." She knelt down beside the bed, so they could be at eye level with each other.

"Your name, mortal."

Well, that was a strange way to address someone, but he had just fallen from the sky and he was exhausted. He may have been delusional. "Willow Weasley." That was always the way she introduced herself when she wasn't conducting formal business that required her to be Lady Potter-Black. "Who are you?"

"Loki." His eyes closed again, and his hand released her and fell limply to his side.

"As in the Norse God?" She whispered to herself. He was out of it, so she didn't expect an answer. So, she stood, turned and left the room.

Loki groaned as he began to come round. The first thing he realised was that the stitches were gone. Then he realised why. He had been banished. Odin had allowed him to keep his powers, stating that he couldn't use them to try a repeat of his failed takeover of Midgard, or to leave Midgard, or his powers would leave him. Well, he was a bit more restricted than that, he wasn't allowed to leave the first Midgardian to find him for more than forty eight hours at a time. Odin had given him a choice. Banishment to Midgard, with those restrictions, or remaining in a cell in Asgard with the stitches in place. The latter was humiliating. The wordsmith rendered speechless. But the first… he would have to live among mortals for the Norns knew how long. That in itself was something he couldn't stand. But… he would have his powers. They were so easy to manipulate. He could easily talk the one who found him into making his stay bearable at the least. So, until his punishment was over, he was sure he would be able to at least live comfortably. Especially if his memory of the last night was correct and she was a magic user.

He could barely remember her. He hadn't gotten a very good look at her, everything had been rather blurred, but he could remember green eyes and black hair. It was her eyes that he remembered the most vividly, though. The warm forest green that seemed so welcoming, yet so full of pain. Willow Weasley, he thought she had said her name had been. He heard a door open and he opened his eyes. Her skin was creamy, with a pink tint to her cheeks, well, from what he could see. Her dark curls fell in front of one side of her face, hiding it from view. The one eye that wasn't hidden was, as he thought, forest green. She smiled brightly when she saw he was awake.

"Oh good, I won't have to place a warming charm on the soup to keep it warm until you wake up." She said.

It was then that he noticed the silver tray she was carrying. He sat up. "Where am I?" He asked.

"London." She said.

"I am not familiar with that name. Where on Midgard is that?"

"Midgard? Isn't that what the world is referred to in the Norse Myths?" She placed the tray down on the bed side table next to his side of the large bed.

He nodded. "But it isn't myth. It is real."

"Are you trying to tell me you are the real god of mischief and lies?" She asked.

"I am the very same."

"Well, that might explain the stitches; didn't that happen to you already in the myths?"

"Once before. You still have not answered my question."

"London is the capitol city of England, which is part of Great Britain." She said. "I've only brought you soup and some bread. You're severely malnourished; I didn't want to try you on anything heavier. Seeing as you didn't want to go to the hospital, you will have to make do with my incomplete healing skills. If you feel up to something more, I can make you something else to eat later. My cooking skills are not something that is lacking, that I can assure you."

She moved a couple of things around on the tray before picking it back up and handing it to him. The aroma that wafted up his nostrils was mouth-watering, he had to admit. And he was hungry. He hadn't eaten since before he had opened the portal to New York. And that had been weeks ago.

"I'll leave you to it. If you feel up to walking, you can come downstairs. If you aren't down in half an hour, I'll come and check on you."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Weasley." He said. He was nothing if not polite. His mother had, after all, drilled impeccable manners into him. And if he was to keep his magic, he would have to stay around this mortal for a while. Being cordial would make it go a lot easier.

"Mrs."

"Pardon?" He said.

"Mrs Weasley. Not Miss."

"And, pray tell, does your husband know you're in a room with a strange man, un-chaperoned?"

"He doesn't control my life. Now eat your food." She said, suddenly turning frosty. "I'll be downstairs." She turned, and left the room, closing the door behind her. Well, this most certainly would be interesting.

Willow couldn't believe herself. Why hadn't she just introduced herself as Willow Potter and avoided the sore spot? Now, she may very well have insulted a Norse God. Yes, she believed him. The wizarding world did believe the Norse God's existed, and she could feel the power coming from him. It was like nothing anyone else had ever commanded. Not even any of the strongest witches and wizards she had met.

She should really have told him her name was Willow Potter. She was divorcing Ron, after all. It wouldn't be too hard to keep him in the dark from that, would it? But no, she had messed up.

"Well done Willow, really well played. Now, where's that bruise paste?" It was then that she remembered that she had no bruise paste. She would have to make some more. She had all the ingredients and had the fire under the cauldron to the right temperature, when she heard Loki walk into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Making bruise paste."

"Why?"

"For bruises."

"Look at me." He said. She could hear the command in his tone. He was obviously used to getting his way.

"You know, you aren't on Asgard anymore. You don't get to order people about." She said, not looking up.

She felt him beside her suddenly and jumped back, looking up, startled. He took the opportunity and raised his hand. She flinched but all he did was brush her hair away from her face, revealing the bruise.

Loki stilled. She had flinched when he'd raised his hand as if expecting a blow to come, and then, there was the large, ugly bruise, covering a large portion of her cheek. She was abused regularly, if her reaction was anything to go by. His eyes narrowed. Oh this would not do. If he was to keep his magic, he had to keep her on side so she wouldn't chuck him out, or run (it wasn't as if she could force him to leave, after all). She was under his protection now. His magic had come back to him now he had eaten and rested and his fingers touched the bruise.

Willow started when she felt warmth trickle from his fingers into her cheek, and the throbbing pain from the bruise disappeared. "W-why did you do that?"

"While I am here, you will be under my protection." He said, simply.

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but I found you in my back garden in quite a state. Are you sure you're up to protecting anyone?"

"I am quite recovered now, thanks to you. But I will be here for a while. In return for your hospitality, I shall ensure you do not come to harm, my Lady."

"If you're recovered, then what's stopping you from leaving?"

"Who says anything is stopping me?"

"Go on then, leave. And don't come back. If nothing's stopping you, then walk out." There was a moments silence while they both just watched each other. "I thought so." She said, finally. "There's something stopping you from leaving."

"I am merely restricted from being too far from the first Midgardian to find me upon my arrival for more than forty eight hours." He said finally.

"So, because I was the first to find you, you have to stay close to me? If you left, you would have to return within two days?"

"Correct."

"What would happen if you didn't? And, why the restrictions anyway?"

"I do believe your cauldron is beginning to boil over."

She spun to the cauldron and swore. The ingredients that were already inside were causing the mix to froth and boil over in the heat because she had left it unattended. Wait… she hadn't put any ingredients in. She put out the flames and cooled the cauldron with two quick spells, before looking up to Loki only to find he was gone. Straining to hear, she finally picked up movement in the living room. She knew he had been the cause of the cauldron boiling over. He obviously didn't want to answer those questions. Whatever it was, she was sure something bad would happen to him if he didn't stay. Sighing, and raising her hand to her cheek to where the bruise had been several seconds ago, she closed her eyes. Loki had declared she was under his protection for as long as he stayed with her. With Ron and his temper, that wouldn't be so bad in the coming days, would it? When she made it known she wanted a divorce, Ron would probably find her like a bludger found a player in a Quidditch game. She walked into the living room, and found Loki looking around.

"How long have you lived here? The room is awfully plain for someone's home."

"Actually, I just moved in last night."

He must have caught something in her tone. He looked at her curiously. "Just you?"

She nodded. "Yes, why?"

"Where is your husband?"

"Back in the apartment where I left him, probably. I have a powerful stunner."

Loki's head tilted to the side slightly as he observed her. "So it was him." He mused to himself. "Your husband was the one to strike you."

"I would prefer it if we could avoid this topic please." She said, stiffly. "But, if you'll be staying here, I may as well show you around."

He nodded and she headed out of the room, showing him around the ground floor and then the second floor. Finally, she reached the stairs leading to the library.

"Now, if this has been done right, if you can't seem to find me, I'll be up here." She said, before leading the way up. The library was huge, and there was a nice red wood staircase leading up to the second level of it, and a rail of the same wood around the second level, to stop someone falling over the edge. The shelves were already stacked with books and there was a large fireplace. With a click of her fingers a warm fire began in the centre of it. There were several areas that had comfortable places to sit, armchairs, sofas, even a couple of beanbags. There was also a table that could comfortably sit four working people.

"As to what you said earlier, the same will apply to me." Loki said, looking around the library appreciatively.

Willow smiled. "I take it you're a book lover too then? I think we'll get on just fine."

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