Disclaimer: With humble gratitude to J. K. Rowling for allowing me to build castles in her sandbox once more.
Twenty-Six
Harry: Out with the Tide
Autumn had deepened the sunset to a pomegranate shade that reminded Harry of the juice he’d consumed that afternoon. The brisk wind scuttled clouds in shades of umber and deep violet along the horizon as whitecaps galloped across the ocean surface. Lexxie had warned that rain was coming, but that prospect didn’t bother him. If anything, it made him feel the sting of homesickness for the first time in months.
As night fell in earnest, the moaning wind created a backdrop to their after dinner conversation. It was joined by the sharp patter of raindrops to make a soothing staccato rather like a heartbeat, intensifying the coziness as they sipped honey mead before the small crackling hearth.
“I’m not certain anyone ever lit a fire in this villa,” Ginny observed. “That fireplace looks like it’s for communication only. Too clean.”
“You think I should’ve opted for bluebell flames instead?” Harry countered.
“Too eerie, especially with the banshees moaning on the beach.”
“Harpies,” Harry corrected, substituting the equivalent from Greek mythology. “Spirits of the wind who like to snatch things in their beaks.”
“Sounds rather spiteful,” Ginny shivered.
“And banshees are said to herald death. Wind is a destructive force the world over.”
“Which is precisely why I prefer the golden warmth of a real fire. In defiance of the wind that can’t snatch it from us.”
“I’ll perform a proper Scourgify Charm in the morning so Lexxie isn’t put out,” Harry promised.
“I’ve been considering living arrangements once we get back to England,” Ginny volunteered.
“Any ideas? I seem to recall Percy grousing that it would be more efficient to have the Ministry make his paychecks payable to his landlord; save the goblins from being involved at all.”
Ginny gave her silvery laugh. “So he said to Mum so she wouldn’t know how much he’d missed his family.”
“And her winning way with Shepherd’s Pie.”
“That too. Actually, the alternative I discovered is along a similar vein.”
“Your Mum’s not in charge of the house-keeping, is she?”
“Merlin, no!” Ginny cried. “I was thinking of a quaint cottage Hermione discovered while she was house-hunting for her folks. We both fell in love with it instantly.”
“So why didn’t she recommend it to the Grangers? Too small?”
“The rooms weren’t very large, that’s true. But that just meant they could make do with the basics, furniture-wise.” Ginny took a moment to phrase it just right. “It just wasn’t suitable.”
That’s hardly a recommendation for me either, Harry thought to himself. “Not sure I follow,” he urged her to elaborate.
“The Muggle appurtenances would never pass muster with Hermione’s parents.”
“Appurtenances? What exactly is that?”
Ginny stared at him blankly. “That’s the terminology the estate agent used. You forget I went along with her a number of times over the summer.”
“Was the agent a wizard?”
“Witch,” she corrected.
“That explains the chasm between wizard and Muggle terms.”
“The shortcomings were in the kitchen and laundry areas,” Ginny offered.
“Could you mean ‘appliances’?”
“Not familiar with that term.”
“Gadgets used by Muggles to compensate for tasks your mum always does with magic,” Harry supplied.
“Yes. But that wouldn’t be a problem in our case.”
“What if I planned to hire a house-elf instead?” he teased.
“Fine by me,” she volleyed back. “But you’ll have to negotiate a lengthy contract if you want the elf to keep you warm at night. Not to mention the magical laws you’ll have to circumvent.”
“What makes this place so special?” Harry capitulated.
“It’s a home. Not some austere flat that’s as bland as its inhabitant.”
“Something that appealed to you as well?” Harry tendered as his mind conjured up scenes of his parents’ cottage in Godric’s Hollow. At least, the way it was before evil had taken a huge chunk out of it.
“Maybe.” Her eyes glowed with promise.
“Well, it certainly bears looking into. Will Hermione still have the name of the agent?”
“Mum, too. She accompanied Hermione on her hunt once I left to come here.”
“If don’t mind, I’ll go through Hermione.”
“Good choice,” she concurred.
The lashing wind provided a pleasant counterpoint as Harry allowed his mind to wander contentedly. Savoring the dwindling days of his holiday, his limbs relaxed with a drowsy lassitude until his eyes were half closed.
With no warning, Ginny blindsided him with, “You’re not one of those traditional blokes, all gung-ho to have a family just to prove his manliness?”
“No.” He managed a somewhat awkward laugh. “I reckon I did that when I defeated the Red Eyes of Evil himself.”
“Very funny. I meant it as a serious question.”
“Really? A serious question posed in a flippant manner?”
“Exactly.” She pursed her lips in that stubborn manner of hers.
“Well, in that case…” Harry took a few extra moments to compose his thoughts. “I’m in no hurry to put down roots. Having spent most of my childhood being told to hurry and grow up so I could face my destiny, I’d rather kick back now. Take my time. Enjoy the scenery along the way.”
“Is that your way of saying you’d like to sow your puffapods with abandon?” she smirked.
The wizarding slang caught Harry unprepared, but only for a moment. With gusto, he returned, “If I was, I wouldn’t have turned down that offer from Witch Weekly.”
“Likely story! As if you’d ever let another journalist interview you!”
“Right. I would’ve held out for the exclusive issue with the sultry photos. Perhaps posing in open Quidditch robes with the broom handle placed just so.” He threw her a saucy look as he mimicked the stance with his hands.
Ginny gasped as her mind filled in the picture; then covered it up by swatting him with the nearest pillow. “If you’re fishing for a compliment, that won’t work!”
“No? You don’t think my golden physique will turn heads throughout Britain?” He turned his torso in a fair imitation of a preening male model.
She snapped the waistband of his sweats in derision. “That stark white line is a real distraction in my book.”
“Who’s to say I couldn’t get an all over tan? Give Lexxie an eyeful.”
In an exasperated tone, she remarked, “For someone who’s always trying to dodge the paparazzi, you sure know how to make certain they never, ever, leave you alone. Are you determined to attract the Muggle tabloids as well?”
“So you get the gist, even if I managed to loose my point somewhere along the way.”
“You had a point?” she joked.
“That I’m trying to take life on my own terms.”
“And a cozy little cottage isn’t in your master plan.”
“Quite the contrary, I think it’s an ideal setting to unwind. I just don’t want to have any misunderstanding about the trappings that often go with it.”
“That’s not really what I intended,” she clarified. “At least give me credit for learning from my parents’ example.”
“A reverse lesson then. What you definitely don’t want to do with your life.”
“Not necessarily. But it’s not what I want to do right out of school. The world is too ripe with possibilities these days. I want to dream a bigger dream. What about you?”
Harry felt comfortable enough to offer a candid response. “I’ve spent most of my life searching for a family. Not having had much luck as a child, I thought maybe one day I’d give it a go as a parent instead.”
“Having been part of the herd, let me tell you the parents definitely have the sweeter deal,” she observed pragmatically. “But it’s not something I plan to pursue tomorrow, or next week, even.”
“Then we’re in agreement,” he concluded.
Certain that the time differential would work to his advantage for once, Harry contacted Hermione via Floo. As she left the Gryffindor common room to go down to breakfast a thousand miles away, Harry clutched the scribbled note like a trophy. He brushed the last of the sparkly ash from his knees then went in search of Ginny.
Beyond the veranda, the sea continued to seethe from last night’s storm. Evidence of the windy conditions decorated the walkways although an employee was doing his best to clear the chunks of damp pine needles with his wand.
Harry tossed a jumper over his head before stepping outside. The briny air was almost metallic in its intensity as it whipped his fringe. Reminding himself that he was long overdue for a trim, he set out towards the looming silhouette of the headland.
Khristos looked up from his task and gave Harry a merry wave. Then he indicated the path leading down to the beach. Harry spotted Ginny’s hair as the restless wind swirled it into the tendrils of a giant squid. Make that a headdress worthy of Medusa herself, he corrected himself wryly.
Working his way down the cold sand, he seated himself on a hollow log that had washed up with the tide. Although clearly aware of his presence at her side, Ginny’s eyes remained focused on the gulls pitching and rolling near the horizon. The flapping of wings turned out to be nothing more than a sheaf of rolled up papers she had tucked under her arm.
Catching his wordless inquiry, she volunteered, “Arrived by special messenger. Only the weight of the papers kept the ruddy owl from being dashed into the waves!”
“Bad news?” he shouted over the wind as he took in the intensity of her expression.
She shook her head and yelled, “Just unexpected!” An impatient flick of her wand and the wind died down around them though it still assaulted the sparse sea grass not two feet away.
“How did you do that?” he marveled.
“Like being in the eye of a storm,” Ginny issued with a tight smile. “An Imperturbable Charm followed on the heels of a Protego. Won’t last very long, though.”
“If only I’d known --”
“Not permitted in regulation Quidditch,” she cut across. “But that didn’t stop my dear brothers from using it at the Burrow. Bill and Charlie in particular. Used to taunt us that only they were old enough to perform magic away from school.”
“Explains how you were able to read your letter,” Harry noted. The last of his words were swept away as the wind re-established its dominance.
Ginny pointed back up the path towards the villa as she mouthed, “Inside.”
Harry applied himself to preparing cocoa from the ingredients available in their small pantry. Ginny showed him how to magically foam the milk without scalding it. “That one takes a bit of practice,” she acknowledged.
The hearth had been cleaned in their absence, Harry noticed with a pang of guilt. He set bluebell flames to dancing merrily as he curled next to Ginny on the small sofa. With the first sip of warm chocolate, it was as if he’d been transported to the soggy Scottish foothills once more.
“Are you going to tell me what’s in that packet?” he asked, nodding towards the stack which lay face down upon the low table before them.
“A contract,” Ginny replied enigmatically. “A preliminary one, to be exact.” Seeing Harry’s vacant expression, she reminded him of the recruiting agent who’d watched his son play Quidditch a few days earlier. “He must’ve captured our plays with the instant replay feature. There was no reason to ban Omnioculars while you were elsewhere.”
“So they want you to tryout for a professional team? That’s excellent, Ginny!”
“Not exactly,” she demurred. “On the strength of his recommendation, the Holyhead Harpies are offering me a spot on their third string. I’ll still have to prove myself, but it’s rather like having an inside shot.”
“That’s wonderful!” Harry jumped to his feet. “It is, isn’t it?”
“I think so.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I won’t deny it’s always been a dream of mine, but didn’t think it would ever come to pass.”
“All the more reason to snatch it with both hands! Like the Quaffle!”
She pulled him down to sit beside her. “You wouldn’t be so eager if you’d read the contract. It’s a lot to agree to. Rules that regulate your life “ at least for the first year or so.”
“Since when do a few rules bother you?”
“This isn’t like Hogwarts, Harry. There’s no secret passages that worm their way through everything so I can twist the words to my heart’s content.”
His smile widened. “They’re called loopholes.”
“Not in that document,” she insisted, pointing an accusatory finger towards the table.
“Can we work through it together?” he tendered, uncertain whether she would accuse him of interfering.
“Be my guest,” she offered. “I’ll make another batch of cocoa. You’re going to need it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Harry had to admit he was completely out of his depth. Not only were rookie players restricted in their choice of living quarters, but whom they associated with off the pitch as well. They didn’t come right out and ban boyfriends “ that would certainly send the wrong message “ but a player’s contract could be terminated if she got married, or even engaged, during the first year. A pregnancy, even for married players, meant instant suspension. Termination if the player was not an established member of the team.
“I wish Percy were here,” Ginny moaned. “He’d know how to cut through the legalities.”
Someone from the Magical Games Department would be better, Harry mused silently. Aloud, he conceded, “I don’t claim to have any experience with contacts, Gin. But if Tonks was here, she’d say this document fairly reeks of sexism.”
Ginny nodded morosely. “Giles warned me about that. Said that it was standard for all female players.”
“What about other teams then? The Harpies aren’t the only ones who recruit female players.”
“No, but they’re the best! Why would I want to play for Iceland or Denmark or New Zealand when I can play for Britain?”
“Technically, Wales.”
“Still part of the United Kingdom, Mr. Brainiac.”
“Is there any way to know whether other teams’ contracts are less restrictive?” Harry proposed.
“Dunno. But why would I want to work my way up to the Harpies when I’m already being offered a place among them?”
“Good question. Is this what you’d like to do with your life?”
“Not all of it. But it would be fun for the next few years or so. Wouldn’t have to worry about any more pesky exams, for one.”
“Quidditch careers don’t last forever, that’s true,” Harry tempered.
“All the more reason to go for it now!” Ginny insisted.
“Those restrictions are bound to chafe. Don’t you find it discriminatory?”
“Unlike those others, the Harpies are an all-women team, Harry. They don’t have to appease anyone but themselves. It’s not like this comes as a shock to me, either.”
“The recruiter again?”
“Giles Edmonton, yeah. He explained that I’d have to make sacrifices along the way. Attaining a dream is often like that.”
“I guarantee you Viktor Krum’s contract doesn’t handcuff him in this manner. He competed in a dangerous tournament, for Merlin’s sake!”
“Don’t you think they tightened the standards after Cedric was killed? Bulgaria pulled their golden boy right back home after that. Ron was right put out about it.”
Ron was consumed with jealousy over Viktor’s friendship with Hermione, Harry amended to himself. “It still smacks of sexism,” he argued.
“Yes and no,” Ginny returned. “You can’t deny that women’s bodies are fundamentally different than men’s. Basic biology which requires different treatment when it comes to violent sports.”
By that argument, women would be banned unilaterally, but Harry thought better of voicing that aloud. “Hear me out, Ginny. If Oliver Wood takes a Bludger to the…er…”
“In his money-maker,” she added with a small giggle.
“Right. If he takes it full force in his bits, I can guarantee you he’ll be laid up at St. Mungo’s! Might even impair his ability to have children later.”
“But he won’t be off his broom for nine months at a time! If a pregnant player takes a hit -- or even falls off her broom -- not only is the child’s life in danger, but the mother’s as well.”
“So ban expectant mothers from the pitch! That’s just common sense. But not every woman who gets married has a child right off the bat.”
“Many do.”
“Previous generations. But like you said before, there’s a whole world of opportunity out there.”
“Then why are you so determined that I let this pass me by?” she snarled.
“Me?” Harry’s voice rose without him taking notice. “Why are you so intent on being treated like a commodity and not a human being?”
“You think the real world is just like Hogwarts? Think again! Fairness is a concept that teaches children to respect others, but you won’t find it outside those hallowed halls.”
“Basic human rights are guaranteed by all governments, the Ministry of Magic included.”
“I doubt Hermione agrees. Nor would goblins, giants or centaurs.”
“Or werewolves,” Harry muttered. “But acknowledging the injustice is the first step to stamping it out. Playing along with those blighters just validates their tactics!”
“They’re trying to mount the best possible team they can. That means reliable players who won’t get caught up in situations that undermine their abilities.”
“You could be talking about breeding hippogriffs in that tone,” Harry warned.
“Each player’s just a cog in the mechanism. Individuality is stamped out for the good of the team. You taught us that!”
“It’s not the same!” he persisted. “I didn’t ask you to put aside your personal life and think only of the team.”
“That’s the difference between inter-House rivalries and the British Quidditch League!”
“Don’t you think you’ll be lonely in a residence full of other women?”
“So that’s what this is about. Not me, but you!” Ginny fumed. “You don’t want to have to face the big world out there alone!”
“Of course I’d miss you! But I want to do things together. Like sharing that little cottage…”
“That you haven’t even seen!”
“I will once I contact the estate agent! Who did you think I was calling over the Floo this morning? Hermione gave me what I needed right off.”
“Then rent the bloody place for your own use.”
“Is that no longer your dream too?”
“HOW CAN IT BE? I don’t have an Invisibility Cloak so I can sneak out at night!”
“I’ll loan it to you indefinitely. I can learn to Disillusion myself. Many wizards do.”
“And if they catch me sneaking off to visit you, what then? I’m history!”
“Negotiate the contact then. Have them spell it out that you have your weekends to yourself!”
“Matches are played at the weekend,” she pointed out dryly.
“Not all of them! You’re entitled to days off. Do they make you turn your back on your family as well?”
“It’s not the same!”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s NOT. And that’s precisely what the ban on marriages hopes to prevent. Husbands who think they can tell their wives what to do!”
“Really?” Harry railed. “Seems to me it would just spark couples to live together!”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you!”
“UNTIL TEN MINUTES AGO, I THOUGHT IT WAS WHAT YOU WANTED AS WELL!”
“So while you’re off at Auror Headquarters, what am I supposed to do?”
“Anything you want.”
“Except play for the Harpies.”
“That restriction comes from the contact, not me!” Harry insisted.
“Then what would your contract say?” Ginny spat. “What would you have me do?”
“I don’t presume to make decisions for you; I never have. DON’T MAKE ME OUT TO BE A TYRANT! I just want what’s best for you.”
“How dare you think you can make that decision?” The ice in Ginny’s voice cut like a knife.
“I didn’t mean --”
“YES, YOU DID!”
Harry saw the opening and recklessly took it. “HOW DO YOU PRESUME TO KNOW WHAT I MEAN?”
She gave him a frosty look as she flung angry flames of hair over her shoulder. Her footsteps echoed down the short hallway followed by a mighty door slam.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry hazarded a look at Dumbledore’s portrait which had borne witness to their row. For once, the gilded frame was empty.
Clearly their cross words had weighed on Ginny’s mind as well. Not twenty minutes later, she sought him where he was staring morosely out the window. “I don’t want to fall out over something like this,” she offered in a conciliatory tone.
“Nor do I,” Harry affirmed as he gave her a quick peck. “Perhaps I’m not the best person to advise you on such matters.” He didn’t mention his well-known aversion to living in the media spotlight.
“It’s not that your words don’t make a lot of sense, there’s just a certain autonomy women must sacrifice in order to be given equal opportunity. Pregnant Aurors are assigned to desk duty; Quidditch Leagues simply give their women players leave.”
“By your own admission, sometimes permanently.”
“For those who make unwise choices. Most players wait until their careers are over to start a family. Less of a conflict that way.”
“So it agrees with your timetable, you’re saying?”
“Bear in mind that I may tire of Quidditch “ or it may decide to spit me out.”
Harry sincerely doubted that last part but kept his opinion to himself.
Nevertheless, she read the very thought in his eyes. “You don’t believe me,” she huffed.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he amended.
“Perhaps you’re just biased,” she shot back. “Besides, if your goal is to dissuade me, wouldn’t it make more sense to give me a stark depiction of my true talent “ or lack thereof?”
“That’s never been my goal,” Harry insisted a bit more forcefully than he intended. “Do you want me to talk you out of it? Is that what this is about? That way you can blame me for dashing your hopes before they take root. I WON’T DO IT, I TELL YOU!”
“That’s not really -- ”
“Then what?”
“You don’t trust me to make an informed decision on my own,” she wailed.
“Rubbish! Neither one of us knows enough about the subject.”
“So I’ll talk it over with my parents. Percy, too; he’s the one with the head for useless facts.”
“Wise decision.”
“Will you support my choice no matter what?” she demanded.
Harry bit his lip. “That’s a rather blanket statement, isn’t it? I don’t even know your reasoning,” he tempered, but he’d hesitated much too long for her taste.
“SEE! YOU DON’T TRUST ME!”
“Don’t be silly! I’m more likely to doubt myself than you.”
“Doesn’t speak very well for my chances of winning you over, does it?”
Ginny stormed off leaving him staring at the empty spot where her body had been moments before. With a low growl, Harry smashed his bottle of pumpkin fizz against the wall. The dark delight he felt by watching the orange liquid foam against the stucco was short-lived, however.
A patch of color against the window and Harry hastily flicked his wand to clean up the sticky mess before Lexxie let herself in.
“Trouble in paradise?” she began unexpectedly. “Or is that too much of a cliché?”
Harry feigned nonchalance as he leaned back against the sofa cushions. His tight muscles protested at his attempts to appear relaxed. “What makes you say that?” he offered with surprising equanimity.
Lexxie gave him a look that said she wasn’t fooled. “Passed Ginny on the path outside, face like a thundercloud. Looked like she was going to a lynching.”
“Mine, I warrant,” Harry sighed.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“It’s nothing but a bunch of petty words,” he resisted.
“Not if the feelings churn inside and keep you up at night.”
“Fine,” he sullenly capitulated. “We had a fight. A disagreement that we were too childish to resolve in an adult matter.”
“Impressive,” Lexxie drawled. “Admission and chastisement all in the same sentence.”
“Something tells me you won’t just leave it at that.”
“You’d be right.” She flashed him an affectionate smile. “What type of a fight?”
Clearly confused, Harry questioned, “The subject, you mean?”
“Not yet. I want to visualize the scene properly. Was it a tiff or are the peasants running for cover from spewing lava?”
“Neither.” He found himself chuckling at her delivery in spite of himself. “We’d start out to discuss things and then our emotions would take over.”
“Ah. Throwing gasoline on the fire.”
“That’s a good estimation,” Harry concurred.
“What was in the fire?”
“She’s convinced that I don’t want her to play professional Quidditch and that’s just not the case.”
“Contract came through that quickly?” Lexxie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“A preliminary one, but that will lead to a real one. Ginny’s skills are top-notch.”
“But you have objections?” she surmised.
“You bet I do! They want to place all these restrictions on her personal life and here Gwenog Jones, the team captain, has endured two very public divorces.”
“So you already follow the team?”
“Hardly,” Harry scoffed. “But it was hard to miss the banner headlines in the Daily Prophet.” Especially in those moments when he craved anything other than reports of the encroaching darkness, he added inwardly.
“World’s full of hypocrisy,” Lexxie shrugged.
“She deserves to be treated better, is all.”
“Does she have any other plans at this time?”
“Not really.”
“So the contract fell into her lap at the propitious moment. Rather like your recruitment by the Minister himself.”
“Yes and no. I’ve had ambitions to be an Auror since I first considered career choices at school.” And Ginny had dreamed of Quidditch, certain that she would never have the chance. “Perhaps it’s more alike than I originally considered,” he finished sheepishly.
With the tiniest hint of satisfaction, Lexxie pressed, “Does she have similar concerns about your upcoming post?”
“No. Why would she?”
“Why indeed. Perhaps she expects the same support from you.”
“The Auror Department isn’t bent on twisting my personal life,” he protested.
“Any career will do that; keeping a proper balance is a constant battle. Are you afraid Quidditch training will consume her?”
It only took a moment for Harry to reply, “Ginny has a rather level head on her shoulders. Despite her temper.”
“Bearing that in mind, what would you say if she advised you against joining the Auror Department?”
“She’d have no reason to do that.”
“It’s a dangerous job that of a dark wizard catcher. She’d worry about you all the time.”
“Ginny’s not the suffer-in-silence type. She’d take up the slack if she thought I wasn’t doing my job properly.”
“She would at that,” Lexxie chuckled in appreciation. “How about if she suggested that after putting your life in peril to save the world, you should take a back seat and let someone else do it?”
“Got that off my chest during this holiday.”
“True. But you said some pretty moving things before the massed funeral.” At Harry’s startled expression, she elaborated, “The story was carried in our local papers as well. Regardless, it would’ve been part of my research as a thorough counselor.”
“I meant what I said: war is stupid and people should work differences out in a more productive manner. That applies to people as well as governments, I suppose.”
“Keeping those evocative words in mind, what if Ginny insisted that your career choice was unnecessarily violent? That you were seeking to reopen old wounds by searching out the heart of evil?”
“I’d say she was being melodramatic. Being an Auror in a time of peace is completely different. Besides, I don’t want to turn my back on the world. I owe it to the people who died for me to become part of the new administration. Help to seek peaceful resolution. Otherwise, my words are hollow.”
“And Ginny will have appropriate justification for whatever choice she makes. Are you willing to bend enough to accommodate her?”
“It’s not about that! She’s not taking into account how much being a sports idol will demand of her!”
“And you know this how?”
“I’ve lived the past seven years of my life in the proverbial fishbowl. It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish upon anyone else.”
“So you’ve tired of the limelight,” Lexxie dismissed. “Doesn’t mean someone else might not want to have a chance. Are you afraid her rise to fame might eclipse yours?”
“Believe it or not, nothing would make me happier. Clearly I wasn’t cut out for public adulation; perhaps others are.”
“Have you considered what you would be willing to give up for Ginny?”
Harry stopped to take stock of the situation. “She hasn’t asked me to do that.”
“Not yet. But she might.”
“If you’re implying whether I would turn my back on my new post just to become one of her camp followers, the answer is ‘no.’ Nor do I expect her to sit around waiting for the sunshine of my presence to waltz through the door each night. Each of us is entitled to pursue individual goals. Life is too inconstant and it helps to have someone else to share the joys and frustrations. That’s the sort of partnership I’d like to find.”
“Does Ginny know this?”
“As best as I’ve been able to convey it to her. My temper tends to get in the way as well.”
“Look, Harry, I don’t profess to be an expert at negotiations. Some things you just have to work out for yourself. No one else can tell you what you’re willing to sacrifice, what privations you consider acceptable in light of the ultimate goal. I can tell you this, though: sometimes paths diverge. You may be able to find a way to converge in the future, but not always.”
“I suppose it all comes down to how much I’m willing to fight for what I want,” he concluded.
With a sad smile, Lexxie corrected, “It depends upon whether you find another who is willing to fight the same fight.”
“How do you know all this, Lexxie? You’re barely older than I am.”
“You really don’t know anything about me, do you?”
“I thought it wasn’t allowed. I’m supposed to be a narcissistic bugger who thinks the whole world revolves around me. Why people are just queuing up to be entertained by my whinging about everyday tribulations!”
“Did anyone tell you that you had a right talent for sarcasm?” she laughed outright. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“Seems rather late to be asking you to produce your c.v., though.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Surprise me.”
“I have a small house in a fishing village further south along the coast. My husband works for the League for the Preservation of Lesser Creatures. An abominable name which is prejudicial as much as it’s instructive; but no one’s been able to suggest anything better which wouldn’t just mask the group’s goals.”
“Is that why you knew so much about the Manticore Preserve?”
“He was instrumental in drafting the proposal that went before our Ministry. We have a five-year-old daughter named Talia. Would you like to see a snapshot? She inherited Kiryl’s curly hair.”
As they continued their friendly sharing of facts, Harry was faced with the inescapable recognition that this was the end. Lexxie would never have dropped her professional detachment otherwise. As much as he was looking forward to the new challenges of the Auror Department, he knew he would also feel like he was leaving a piece of himself behind.
Their Portkey was set for half ten the next morning and a large contingent of the retreat’s staff gathered to see them off. As a special treat, Lexxie brought Talia to meet the famous guest and say goodbye.
“Go on,” she urged the suddenly timid child. “He won’t bite.”
Talia peeked out from behind her mother’s khaki uniform trousers. Her dark, round eyes overflowed with curiosity.
“He may look like nothing but a scruffy, over-grown schoolboy, but this one’s destined to change the world. Just like you,” Lexxie crooned as she led her daughter forward by the hand.
Squatting down to be at eye level with the child, Harry returned, “It’s my pleasure.” As he shook her little hand, he felt a tangible ache for having stayed away so long from Teddy.
“She’s absolutely beautiful,” Ginny raved as Talia embraced her around the knees without any prompting.
“It’s been a true delight,” Lexxie gushed as she gave them each a quick parting hug. “And, no, I don’t say that to absolutely everyone. Visitors come and go, but there are those few who somehow manage to touch your heart. I wish you both luck in the future.”
As Harry gave in to his impulse to give her one last crushing hug, Lexxie breathed in his ear, “Be sure to invite me to the wedding.”
He turned quizzical eyes to hers and whispered, “How can you be so sure after the past few days?”
Barely moving her lips, she added, “There’s always a wedding. It’s just not always the one you’re expecting.”
With those prophetic words in his ear, Harry placed his hand on the gnarled chunk of driftwood as Ginny followed suit. They kept their eyes straight ahead as the seconds ticked down. With a mighty tug behind their navels, they were transported into thin air.
Harry’s last view was of relentless waves crashing against ancient rocks. Then the salty froth was reclaimed by the ocean to begin the cycle anew.
They managed to land awkwardly on their feet amid the polished tile of the Ministry of Magic. Harry heard the faint tinkle of the glass vials containing the Dreamless Sleep Draught that had been specially allotted to him for emergencies. He hitched his rucksack more firmly on his shoulder to quiet them against the remainder of his belongings.
The only face he recognized belonged to Percy who hurried forward to welcome them home.
“Kingsley sends his regrets that he was called away at the last moment,” he explained to Harry. “But I’d like you to meet Gawain Robards, he’s the current Head Auror to whom you’ve been assigned.”
“Welcome, Harry,” Robards pronounced with a firm handshake. “I’m certain you’ll be a great asset to our Department. The Minister speaks quite highly of your abilities.”
Harry mumbled the appropriate words in response as his eyes frantically searched out Ginny’s retreating form. She was deep in conversation with two gentlemen at the far end of the corridor. As one turned to the side, Harry recognized Stuart Chessington, Ludo Bagman’s successor in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
As soon as he was able, he took Percy aside and pressed, “Who’s that other man with Ginny? The one with the blondish hair.”
“Oh, that’s Giles Edmonton. He’s the recruiting agent for the Harpies,” Percy replied without hesitation. “Didn’t you meet him in Greece as well?”
Harry shook his head morosely. “Ginny was protecting my privacy,” he noted tactfully.
“I’m sure you’ll get the chance later. Mum’s invited him for dinner tonight.”
Harry felt as if he’d just taken a Bludger to the gut. He barely managed, “Ginny didn’t --”
“She didn’t know. You know how Mum is. Charging rhino and all that.” Percy chuckled at his own wit.
With a frustrated huff, Harry abandoned his attempts to catch Ginny’s eye. She disappeared around the corner still engrossed in conversation.
“Look, Percy, is there anywhere nearby where I can contact someone via Floo?” Harry posed.
“Right this way.” Percy led him into an empty office along an anonymous corridor. “Ginny said you had some business to take care of yourself. I’ll give you a bit of privacy.”
Likely Ginny had been referring to his earlier promise to follow up on the cottage, but that was the least of Harry’s concerns at the moment. “You’ll give your mum my regrets,” he requested. “Ginny, too.”
Taken by surprise, Percy stammered, “Just because Edmonton’s invited for dinner doesn’t mean we don’t expect you as well. You’re practically family, Harry!”
It was that ‘practically’ that worried him right now, if he was honest with himself. “Ginny needs to spend some time with her core family,” he affirmed. “Besides, I’ve been remiss in not spending more time with my godson.”
“Of course. Forgive me for being so thoughtless,” Percy back-pedaled like a virtuoso.
Convinced that his sudden decision had been the right one, Harry added, “Tell Ginny I’ll contact her later and we can make plans.”
He grabbed the Floo pot from the mantle, dwelling on the fact that Ginny hadn’t bothered to look over her shoulder before stalking off with those two strangers. The all-too-familiar dagger of rejection throbbed in his ribs, but that just made Harry more resolute than ever.
To ruddy hell with the estate agent who was awaiting a call that afternoon! He had no business leasing a cottage if he was going to end up living there alone. Why he’d be just like…Xenophilius Lovegood. Only even more eccentric and reclusive.
Harry shuddered visibly at the thought.
And he couldn’t very well take a roommate when his friends were still away at school. Besides, a twee cottage in the country was hardly the sort of place he could share with Ron “ not without starting a whole slew of unsavory rumors about their private preferences, that is.
With renewed determination, he threw a handful of powder into the flames and announced, “The Andromeda Tonks residence.” It was about time he took her up on her invitations to come for a visit.
He was just brushing the dust from his hands when Percy soundlessly let himself back into the room.
“I smoothed things over with Mum,” he assured Harry. “She said to take all the time you need for your other obligations. Robards doesn’t expect you to report to work for another three days so that will give you a chance to get your land legs back. Do make a point of checking in with me when you return, though; I have some ideas on how we can deal with your fan mail situation.”
Teddy was a cute as a button, Andromeda a first-rate cook. Even staying in the room that had once been shared by Remus and Tonks didn’t bother him as much as he might’ve supposed. The soothing smoky blue color reminded him of the ocean and the downy soft covers cocooned him in effortless sleep each night.
Nevertheless, he longed for Ginny with an ache that was part apprehension, part guilt and a healthy dose of yearning. He sent an owl that very evening and then the next two, but the lack of response was making him edgy enough that he dreamed about her every night. Not that those could be classified as nightmares by any stretch of the imagination.
The urge to pour out his heart to her was overwhelming at times. Partially, he acknowledged, because he’d grown used to airing his feelings at the retreat. Lexxie’s gentle humor always made him feel better about his foibles but that now seemed a lifetime away.
He came precariously close to putting it all on parchment before the dire consequences of the owl being misdirected hit him full force. The Daily Prophet would crank out a special issue. They’d gleefully make such a mishmash of his most private feelings that their campaign of misdirection during the last days of Fudge’s administration would pale in comparison.
Or perhaps it was the fear of sabotaging Ginny’s chances for a Quidditch career that brought him up short. The last thing she needed was to be embroiled in leaked love letters before her broom even left the ground.
He burned his fevered attempts with a hasty Incendio Charm and tromped down the stairs, berating himself for his woefully pathetic attempts at reconciliation.
“Oh, Harry!” Andromeda started when she saw him standing on the landing. “I was just going to call you. You’re wanted in the Floo.”
He practically dived head first down the last flight of stairs in his haste. Running a quick hand through his unruly hair, he allowed his hammering heart to quiet slightly before strolling as casually as possible into the drawing room.
The disappointment must’ve shown on his face when he realized it was the persistent estate agent.
“Please forgive the intrusion, Mr. Potter,” the all-too-cheerful clerk began. “You’re not that easy a man to track down.”
I’ll have to do better about that! Harry promised himself. Or remember to give specific instructions that I’m not to be disturbed “ especially to Percy.
“We expected you to come by our offices to see about letting a cottage…” She left the words hanging in mid-air as if she expected Harry to jump right in.
“And?” he prompted, disinclined to play her game. He had no desire to pursue dreams that were quickly becoming tarnished.
Taken aback, she managed to recover quickly. “Others have shown an interest. What would you have us do?”
“Rent the wretched place to someone else then,” he snarled. “It’s what you people do, isn’t it?”
He left the clerk open-mouthed as he slammed the door into the kitchen. Only when he got his breath back did he realize what a fairly accurate impersonation of Severus Snape that had been.
Harry sighed dismally. Less than a week back and everything was already falling apart.
Andromeda laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” she began.
“Sorry. I didn’t wake Teddy, did I?”
She gave a weak laugh in return. “Thankfully, Dora trained him to ignore slammed doors within the first week of his life.”
“Still, it’s not my style to upbraid others like that.”
“You’re just missing Ginny,” she stated unnecessarily. “It’s not my place to interfere, but why don’t you Floo her at the Burrow?”
“She hasn’t answered any of my owls,” Harry moaned, even as he berated himself for bringing his petty concerns to the forefront. Hadn’t Andromeda enough troubles of her own?
As if reading his mind, she tendered, “I can’t help but see it all over your face. Dora was much the same about Remus. Moping about as if the sun had ceased to shine.”
He gave her a tentative smile as he accepted her advice. Returning to the drawing room, he quietly closed the door and cast a quick Muffliato Charm.
“Connection to the Burrow in the West Country, please,” he demanded of the emerald green flames before sticking his head forward.
He found Molly fussing over a stack of pots and pans which were merrily scrubbing themselves.
“Why, Harry!” she gushed. “It’s so wonderful to see you! How’s little Teddy? I haven’t had a chance to come for tea, even though Andromeda and I have made a regular habit of it. It’s just been so busy here. Please give her my regards.”
As Molly stopped to catch her breath, Harry interceded quickly, “Everything’s fine. Great even!” He intensified his smile. “I was hoping to talk to Ginny. Not that I’m not happy to see you, too, of course!” He shut his mouth before he made a regular hash of things.
Was it his imagination or did Molly’s smile dim a teensy bit?
“I’m so sorry, dear, but Ginny’s not here right now. Would you like me to give her a message? Let me get a quill.”
“Wait!” He stopped her before she started rummaging in the kitchen drawer. “It’s a somewhat personal issue….” he stammered. “Did she get the owls I sent?”
“Oh yes, dear. I made sure of that. She rushed up to her bedroom to read in private. I have no reason to think she ignored them.”
“I just haven’t heard back from her is all.” Harry winced as his voice sounded needy even to his own ears.
Molly gave him a motherly smile. “Don’t you worry. Ginny’s not the type to mince words, not when she can tell you point blank in a Howler. If it was her intent to snub you, she’d send an Incendio right towards the owl’s foot and then warn the ruddy bird to stand clear.”
Harry couldn’t help chuckling at Molly’s unblemished assessment of her daughter. Merlin, he missed her!
Some of his longing must have shown on his face as Molly added in a bare whisper, “Ginny’s been caught in a whirlwind is all. Hardly walks in the door when she whooshes off again. She’s been asked to play for the Holyhead Harpies, you know.”
Technically, she’d been asked to train with them as a sort of audition, but Harry didn’t contradict. “She signed the contract then?”
“Did you expect her to do otherwise?” Molly beamed proudly.
“It’s just….” Harry trailed off uncertainly. Remembering his audience, he tactfully changed direction. “I expected her to tell me is all.”
“I’m certain she will in good time. I know you had some reservations about the restrictive terms.”
Harry nodded mutely, uncertain how much Ginny had told her mother and not wishing to divulge unnecessary details.
“But I have to tell you, her father and I are pleased they enforce regular rules for their youngest players. It’s so easy for this kind of thing to go to a young woman’s head and it’s not really all that different than the guidelines at Hogwarts. She’d be in the middle of her seventh year if things had worked out differently.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you, Harry. It’s You-Know-Who’s fault! Just listen to me going on like an old hen! Took me months to get my tongue used to the Taboo and now I can’t seem to retrain it. It’s Voldemort’s fault, not yours. Is that better?”
“Much,” he joined in with her self-deprecating laugh.
“Still, I can’t begrudge Ginny being given a rare opportunity,” she finished. “We’re all so thrilled! Ron practically dropped everything when he heard. But then Minerva made him screw his head back on right and reminded him that he’d be home for Christmas break in six weeks’ time.”
“I’d really like to give Ginny my support, Molly. I don’t think she believed me when I said she was a shoo-in.”
Molly bit her lip as she stared guiltily at her hands. Harry’s heart sank to his knees when she turned a pained expression towards him.
“Look, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. The team’s all paranoid about rabid fans staking out the players quarters, see.”
“I’ve never been a gossip.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have.” Her eyes brightened. “Ginny’s sharing a Victorian clapboard overlooking the rocky Welsh coastline. Says she can walk to practice each morning, which pleases her to no end. Like that matters to a young witch who’s old enough to get an Apparition license. Eight girls not too much older than Ginny and a house mother who reminds me a bit of Auntie Muriel -- without her sense of humor.”
A regular Gorgon, then, Harry noted to himself. “She won’t hold a candle to the Dark Lord,” he scoffed.
“Perhaps you should try charming her instead,” Molly scolded playfully. “Here, jot down the exact address so you won’t get waylaid.”
Harry dutifully scribbled the particulars on a scrap of parchment even though he was less certain of things than ever. “Please don’t say anything to Ginny,” he implored.
Misreading his feelings, Molly gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your surprise.”
After a few more minutes of meaningless pleasantries, Harry felt he could end the connection without being rude. He sat back on his hands with a feeling of desolation that reminded him all too much of those dreary days spent camping in the wilderness while the outside world slowly came unglued.
Should he follow Molly’s recommendation and just show up on Ginny’s doorstep? Perhaps with a brimming basket of chocolate frogs as a peace offering. What if it turned into a news story?
He had an Invisibility Cloak, for Merlin’s sake! What if the alarms picked him up as a burglar, or worse, a peeping tom? Now that was sure to make headlines: Chosen One Confirmed as Sex Pervert.
He shook his head at the litany of excuses. By his own estimation, no one could just visit a friend on the spur of the moment, could they?
Then it hit him. Followed by the Pensieve memories of a young Snape waiting outside Gryffindor Tower for Lily to grant him an audience.
Harry slammed a mental door on the images as anger boiled up inside him. He was not about to follow in that man’s footsteps!