Chapter Text"George!" He heard a voice call from upstairs. it wasn't Angel, she was with her family. Feet pounded down the spiral staircase, and he glimpsed long red hair.
Ginny.
"Hey little sis!" He called. "Thought you were at training camp?"
"I was. I am. Have you got a Prophet kicking around?"
"On the testing table, behind you."
Ginny snatched up the paper and started reading the front page.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" She screamed. "The fucking bookworm!? Merlin fuck a duck! Can't trust that fucking moron to do one simple fucking thing right, not even get his end away! Fucking worthless! I'll hex the bitch's face right fucking off!"
"If you're talking about my friend Hermione like that, you can just leave." He told her.
"What?! You'd side with that thieving bitch over your own sister?!"
"Hermione has never stolen anything in her life. You, on the other hand, seem to be under the delusion that Harry Potter belongs to you."
"He DOES! He's mine! He's my birthright, and I'm going to be Lady Potter! We're going to have little redheaded babies with gorgeous green eyes and every bitch in the world will wish she was me!"
He just looked at her. It was cute when she was six. It ceased being cute long before her current seventeen. "Uh huh." He said. "You better be joking, because if you aren't, I'm going to take you to St. Mungo's right now."
Ginny looked at his face and blanched. "Er... Yeah. Just a joke." She tried to grin, but it was horrible. His sister was a horrible liar.
"What do you want, Ginny?" He asked.
"What makes you think I want something? I can't just show up and read your paper?" She huffed.
He just stared at her more.
"Okay! Fine! Look, I didn't know that Harry came out of the coma, okay? I was busy and we're not allowed to get the paper during training. The point is, you know who my boss is, right?"
"Actually I have no idea if the Harpies are even owned by one person or a family or a board of governors or what."
"That would be the owners. My boss is my Captain, Gwenog Jones."
"Okay, and?"
"And I fucking hate having to say this, so if you tell anyone, I'll hex you into tiny pieces, understand?"
"Okay, and?"
"Gwenog asked if I could get her an invitation to the wedding."
An invitation?! He started laughing. That was the most ludicrous thing he could have imagined coming out of his sister, and he'd been prepared for a lot.
"Stop laughing!" She demanded. "This could guarantee my career, George! Could you at least take it to them and ask? The paper says the Minister is going to be there, so why not?"
"The Minister is going to be there because he's a friend, Ginny. Harry and Hermione have known Kingsley as long as I have."
"So ask them if they can meet Gwenog and see if she can become a friend. I'd do it myself, but..."
"But you abandoned them both in the hospital when it suited you."
Ginny's face turned red, though he couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment.
"Why are you being such an arse? Please, George! It would mean a lot to me, and it's bad enough having to fucking tolerate such a thing in the first place. I should be out stopping it right now! It's fucking galling to have to ask at all!"
Never one to pass up an opportunity, he thought about it.
"I'll tell you what Gin. I'll go talk to both of them right now and plead the case, on one condition."
"Fine, what?"
"Leave the wedding alone. Don't try to interrupt it, curse it, or affect it in any way. Give up on Harry Potter right this second. Abandon your childish claim on him and any thoughts of retribution against Hermione. Do that, and I'll go talk to them right now and try my best to get Gwenog her invitation."
Silence.
More silence.
Ginny went white in the face and looked like she was concentrating on not throwing up.
"Fine." She whispered finally.
Well. That was unexpected.
Ginny obviously really wanted to play for Holyhead. Good! If she could get over her childish obsession with a Harry Potter that had never lived at all, she'd definitely be better off in the long run. He knew exactly how much it hurt when a crush failed, but it was one of those things you had to go through to grow up. Besides that, Hermione was likely to put Ginny in the hospital if Ginny so much as raised a wand against either of them.
It was after business hours, so he put stasis lids on the test cauldrons and removed them from the heat.
"Alright then." He got up and hugged Ginny. "I don't hate you Gin. You're my sister and I love you. It's because I love you I want you to give up on your Harry obsession. It isn't healthy."
She started trembling as he held her.
"Have you been checked for potions and the like recently?"
"What? Why?"
"Because being so obsessed isn't like you. You never know, Dumbledore was great at Alchemy, he might have slipped you something when you were young. Mum might have as well, thinking she was helping. It's just something to think about."
"Nothing like that." She said quietly, but slowly stopped trembling. "We got full screening before being admitted to camp. Anyone with something active in them got refused."
"Oh. Well good, at least we know you're not potioned." He hugged squeezed her and let go. "Right, I'm off then. I'll owl you with what they said."
"Actually, it would be best if I could tell her straight away. Do you mind if I wait here?"
"No, of course. Don't mess with the testing, but help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen. I'll tell you how it went when I get in."
She smiled at him, and looked like herself for the first time in a long time. "Thanks George." She said.
As soon as the green flames died away, so did her demure, contrite expression. Her features scrunched and twisted into a vicious sneer.
"As fucking IF! Potter is MINE!" She hissed at the empty floo.
She needed to think. No way would she give up the prize of a lifetime, but at the same time she was in a tricky situation. She needed a way to steer Harry toward her and away from the UglyBucktoothedBookworm. There wasn't any such thing as a love charm, and she didn't have time to create one, so how to get a potion into him? She needed access to Harry, or at least some of his hair. If she had some of The Bookworm's hair, she could make an aversion potion keyed to her. That would help him get over Bitchy, Brown and Boring while he lusted after Racy Red.
And Ron! The fucking idiot was supposed to be handling the fucking Bookworm! She couldn't believe he'd fucking bumbled everything - no, scratch that, of course she could. He was a fucking idiot. It was just infuriating he'd performed as usual when everything had been spinning along perfectly short months before. Part of her was curious what he'd done to make TheFrigidBeaver reject him, but she had far bigger fish to fry at the moment.
George was right though, they'd never let her close to them, not now. It would take apologizing and lots of time to work her way back close to them, time she didn't have. If they even bothered to meet with her in the first place.
Shit!
Wait, the shop was in Diagon! She had time for a quick snoop around Knockturn, maybe she could find a solution there! She grabbed the keys off the hook by the wall and locked the door behind her before she set off at a jog toward the Alley. She pulled her wand and changed her hair to black and her eyes to brown before she got there, it wouldn't do to be recognized. She had no compunctions whatsoever about doing highly illegal things with highly illegal tools, but damned if she didn't also want to get away with it. She was Ginevra Potter, future Quidditch Goddess! Azkaban was for losers.
She didn't bother with any shops lining Knockturn, no, she'd been there enough to know that the really good stuff you had to get from the side alleys. You had to ignore the needy folk meant to look like beggars to scare off the tourists and walk like you had a purpose. The first two side alleys she explored were filled with the usual tripe, monkey's paws, knives and ropes and things charmed to murder muggles and make it look like a suicide. Ginny had no time for it, she was after a potioneer.
She found one such potential store down the third alley she tried. The place was called 'Anaisa's Pies', but there were nothing but bottles in the windows. The interior was decorated somewhat opulently, with richly appointed furniture and gold-inlaid marble countertops.
"What can Mama Anaisa do for you today, chile?" A large woman with enormous breasts and gold rings dripping from her fingers asked her. The woman had an easy smile, a relaxed bearing, but she could see cold hard steel in the woman's eyes.
While the shop didn't overtly display anything that could be construed as illegal, none of them did. They all had to pass occasional Auror raids, after all. All the juicy contraband items would be safely hidden - which meant there was no recourse but to spill what she wanted to the woman.
"I'm after a way to deliver potions at a distance. Love potions. Maybe a revulsion potion as well." She said. She didn't have to say what she wanted to deliver exactly, but by doing so, the woman would know she was up to illegal things and wouldn't hold back when showing what she had. It also told the woman she wasn't an undercover Auror. She would have preferred to keep her business private, but one had to bow to necessities.
"Ah, young love. Sometime it need a good push, ya? You wait here, chile. Mama Anaisa bring you sometin' right quick." The large woman ducked into a hidden back room faster than she thought was possible, leaving her to dance and fidget and worry about whether George had returned or not.
Thankfully, the fat, enunciation-challenged woman was only gone a minute. When she came back, she put a thin black enamel case on the counter. It had a pointed steel tip on it, and practically oozed darkness.
"Dis li'l trinket be all kinda wondaful fo' you, chile. Dis heeah a Switchin' Siphon. Look like a wand case, no?" She picked the thing up and showed her the back end of it. The very end rotated open, and as it did, part of the round body of the thing opened to reveal space for two standard-sized phials. "Put yo' outgoin' on de left heeah, put yo' empty on de right, and yo' wand up de middle. You cast a switchin' spell troo yo' wand, and presto. You give love, you get blood. If you can see him, you can catch him."
Sweet murdering Morrigan.
"It's perfect." She breathed. "How much?"
"Twenty-five for dis beauty, an' dat include yo' 'young love' discount." The fat woman grinned at her.
It would take almost everything she had. She would be eating nothing but dorm meals for the rest of the month, but she wouldn't starve. She could pilfer ingredients from her mother's stores at the Burrow and brew the potions herself, so that wasn't an issue.
She pulled out twenty-five galleons and handed them over.
The fat woman took out a box from behind the counter and fit the Switching Siphon into a secret compartment in the bottom, then closed it and put two red roses on top to complete the illusion.
"Mind de torns, honey." The fat woman smiled at her.
Ginny didn't bother with anything further, she clutched her prize and strode out of Knockturn and back to the shop as quickly as she dared.
Harry's eyebrows seemed to have a levitation charm on them, as they hovered somewhere halfway up his forehead.
"Wait, wait." Hermione held up a hand and shook her head, trying to wrap her gorgeous brain around what George had just said. "So Ginny actually agreed to drop the whole Harry obsession and stay away from our wedding entirely if we talk to this Jones girl?"
"Yeah. Surprised the magic out of me, too. I didn't ask for any binding vows or anything, but she has to know if she goes back on her word at this point she'll be banished from the family at the very least. It was all dad could do to stop mum casting her out after she told mum to fuck off."
Harry laughed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. It's not funny. Really, it isn't. I just can't help seeing your mum's face at that point."
George grinned. "Don't restrain yourself on my account, Harrykins. I had a good chuckle myself."
"Not that that isn't amusing in a horrifying way, but I can't get over the question of why this Jones woman wants to meet us. It had better not be another fangirl thing, I'll put her in the ground no matter who she is." Hermione snuggled closer to Harry almost possessively.
Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek, then rubbed her back with one palm. "Fair point, love. We've both had quite enough of that kind of nonsense."
"Hey, whatever you two decide is up to you. I've done what I said I would do, I've tried my hardest to get Jones a meeting with you two. What she actually wants is an invitation to the wedding, but I laughed when she said that. Ginny seems to think that because Kingsley is going that it's somehow a public event."
"Well you're right there." Hermione nodded. "No bloody way we'd let a stranger anywhere near the place."
"Exactly as I thought." George nodded. "A meeting would be the best she could hope for. Anyway, that's my duty done, I should get back to the shop and let you lovebirds talk about it - or snog about it, as the case may be." He grinned and stood.
Harry stood and shook George's hand, and Hermione give him a hug. "Four months of snogging to make up for, on top of the regular snogging. It's a full schedule." She grinned.
George chuckled and threw some powder into the floo before disappearing in a flash of green flame.
Hermione sighed then. Why couldn't people just leave them alone?
Harry wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. She absolutely loved that, it made her engine purr to life immediately. She also hated it because it made her engine purr to life immediately. It was like having a big red START button on the side of her neck. It wasn't much of annoyance though, she grabbed his elbows to keep him against her, and arched her back, pressing her bum against his front. He growled in his chest, and that was his big red start button. For some reason, he loved her behind. She loved that he loved her behind, there was nothing quite as satisfying as feeling him harden between her cheeks.
He attacked her neck again while he ground himself against her, and she giggled both at the tickles his beard gave and the fact that she was teasing him. She spun away out of his grasp and placed a chaste kiss on the end of his nose.
"We should talk about this first." She smiled sweetly. His face was a mask of lust and disappointment. Normally she would pounce on him just because she hated that face, but it served him right for pressing her start button. Besides, she had already planned to shag him stupid after dinner.
He let out an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "Alright fine. You're going to pay for that later though." His eyes held the promise of delightful punishment.
"You might too." Her eyes bored back into his.
He smiled at her. "You know how I feel about something like this. It's obvious this Jones is some kind of fan or something. Even worse, it sounds like she's using her position to get what she wants out of Ginny, even though she really doesn't have anything to do with it. I'm against it just on that score."
"I completely agree, love. You know I do. On the other hand, we've also been looking for excuses to be out in public to get everyone used to the idea of us being married, and there really isn't any harm in meeting someone for a drink somewhere public. We can even surround the area with our friends and Aurors if we want. We're under no obligation whatsoever, and if she turns out to be a fangirl or a bore, we can just leave. There really isn't anything to lose."
"Nothing to gain either though." He grumped.
She put her elbows either side of his neck. The curve of her baby bump just brushed his stomach. It instantly dispelled his dourness. "You're just being pessimistic and grumpy now. If it turns out she's not a fangirl and happens to be a good person, we can always use more friends."
Harry mumbled something.
"Hmm?" She looked into his eyes.
"You're right, of course. As always. Like you're brightest witch of the age or something." He grinned his sardonic, lopsided half-grin. The one he saved just for her, just for when he knew she was right and admitted it. Fortunately for him, it drove her mad.
The smile dropped from her mouth, and a feral gleam overpowered the reason in her eyes. She bent her elbows, sliding her hands to the front of his shirt.
"Well I was saving this for after dinner, but..." She flexed her arms and tore the shirt from his torso, then raked her nails down his chest.
Two hours. Two fucking hours she'd been sitting here after George returned! George had been all smiles after he got back, but without an answer. "They'll discuss it" he'd said. She should be studying the playbook, but no, she had to sit on George's sofa and read old Quidditch magazines while The Nattering Boyfriend-Stealing BeaverBitch probably yammered at her poor Harry non-stop until he was suicidal. Her fingers itched to try her new toy out, but she needed to stop back at the Burrow before then. Preferrably Disillusioned. She needed potion ingredients. Maybe it was something of a blessing in disguise that PushyBushy was being so relentless. The later she showed up at home, the less likely she was to run into her mum or dad.
She contemplated getting another cup of tea, but she'd already had two and didn't want to need the loo just as she was gathering ingredients.
A house elf popped into existence next to George then, and waited patiently for him to finish stirring his potions before he turned to face it.
"Mistress Hermione Potter sends this note to Mister George Weasley." The elf handed George a folded piece of parchment, then bowed and Disapparated.
Mistress Hermione POTTER?! That jumped-up, thieving, ugly, bitchy, presumptuous, saggy old HAG! Ginny ground her teeth together to keep from screaming.
"Well, looks like your boss gets a meeting, at least." George said, before he handed her the note.
George,
Please let Ginny know I'll meet with Miss Jones at the Harbourfront Bistro in Holyhead, Friday at noon(ish).
Thanks!
Hermione.
"You told her I was the one asking?!" She accused George.
"Well, unless you're really someone else, then you did ask." He raised his eyebrows at her. She clucked her tongue against her teeth, but she knew she couldn't push George for anything else. When he started making light of things you'd never get anything out of him. He and Fred had perfected the light-hearted deflection, and now that Fred was gone, George only used it when he was done with a conversation.
"Well, I'd have preferred it otherwise, but thank you George." She gave him a quick squeeze.
"See you for Sunday dinner?" He asked after giving her a goodbye squeeze.
"Maybe, not sure. I'll have to ask. I only got to leave today because it was at the Captain's request."
George nodded and went back to his work. She threw a pinch of floo powder in the fireplace. She Disillusioned herself while masked by the roaring green flames, and whispered "The Burrow."
As she came to a stop in the living room, she quickly shook the ash off and cast Silencio on her feet.
The lights were all off. A smile spread across her face. She was in luck!
She quickly unlocked her mother's potioneering cabinet and pulled what she'd need. Some of the rarer ingredients were in a secret compartment at the bottom, in the back of the cabinet. Her mother didn't know she knew about that.
She had just levered the secret compartment panel out of it's seating when sounds started filtering down from upstairs. One of the unfortunate consequences of the design of the Burrow, coupled with its construction materials, was that sounds from just about anywhere carried. They carried very well. It was her mother's voice that carried down to Ginny just then.
"Oh yes! Like that! Just like that! Spank me, minister! I've been naughty!"
"Oh yes you have! You know what we do to naughty girls here!" Her father's voice came next. The sound of flesh slapping flesh also carried throughout the house.
She could feel bile rising in her throat. Worse, no matter how hard she tried to block them, images bloomed inside her head.
She shook her head and swallowed repeatedly, trying to fight against it. She hurried to force the secret panel out of its place, and desperately collected a vial of powdered moonstone and several Ashwinder eggs.
SLAP! SLAP! "OOooh!"
SLAP! "Take it! Take your punishment, you filthy girl! Hahaha!" SLAP!
She replaced the panel quickly, then had to pull it off and replace it again because it was crooked and didn't fit properly. The whole time she could feel herself turning green as her stomach rebelled and the images kept assaulting her brain. After a hateful eternity, the Merlin-damned panel slid into place and she closed the cabinet and re-locked it.
SLAP! "Ooh my arse too!"
SLAP! "Your everything belongs to the Minister of Naughty Affairs!" SLAP!
She ignored everything else and ran for the floo with her stolen ingredients. She only just had time to stumble onto her hands and knees in Gwenog's living room before her stomach inverted and her dinner made its way to freedom.
It wasn't fair.
Best mates were supposed to stay best mates. They were supposed to share things and not pick over every little galleon or bit of chocolate or broom or cloak. He'd shared his whole family, including his baby sister! Literally everything he had he'd shared, and he thought they had an understanding about the girl. He had dibs! Harry knew he fancied her! Yeah, it was only for her delicious arse, but still! He knew! That meant he had dibs, fair and square! Hermione with Lavender's knockers - that would have been a marriage right there, right quick. An arse like that and those udders? Yes fucking please! It was a bit of a shame Lavender had to go and get herself raped and murdered during the battle. He'd been upset for a while afterward, bloody shame that. Especially after she'd started to come around again after dumping him the first time. Really though, why did all women have to run their bloody mouths all the time? Why couldn't they just understand what was what and leave it at that?
Ron sighed. Wonder if George would share Angie? She had great arse too. He'd been looking at it for six years already. He looked over at her and George on the sofa, careful not to turn too much toward the living room. She had a decent rack too, more than a handful. She was no Susan Bones, mind. Susan had the best rack at school, bar none. He'd already tried to make nice with her and Hannah - bloody puffs always traveled in packs, and she and Hannah were always together. So much so, he rather thought they preferred the company of other ladies. He was fine with that, as long as he got to be the filling in the sandwich, so to speak. That was a thought that kept him up nights.
He accidentally turned too far toward the living room, and caught sight of that bloody white card again. Fucking sitting there on the mantle screaming "Ha ha you sad tosser, now you're Ronnie no-mates!" He could deal with the girl leaving, he'd never miss the screaming, nagging, sit straight, play-nice, learn something, read more, clean up all the time. The only thing he'd miss about her was that incredible arse - but Harry, man. Harry was supposed to be his Best Mate. They were supposed to be famous and go to mental parties and get smashed and leave every woman panting and wanting more. That was the real casualty in all this world-gone-mad, his beloved plan. They were supposed to be wicked naughty playboy gods, dripping in ladies and gold.
Nobody bothered to ask what Ron wanted though, did they? It was that fucking card's fault, too. Sitting there mocking him in his own bloody home. Wait til he got his wand back, he'd show it. Fucking arsehole card.
His own wand was under lock and key, but he didn't need to use his own. He could use someone else's! It wouldn't work as well as his, but well enough to incinerate that bloody card.
A slow grin began to spread across his face.
Bill descended the stairs after giving his face and neck a good scrub, and he felt ten times better. Something about being underground just left him feeling clammy all the time.
Fleur was in the kitchen making dinner - that had been a surprise as well, his mother had actually asked if Fleur would mind making dinner. If he didn't know better, he'd accuse mum of being an impostor.
He strolled into the kitchen and kissed his wife on her head just quickly - she was busy after all.
"Anything I can do, hon?" He offered.
Fleur flashed a smile at him. She already had everything planned out in her mind and was using the opportunity to prove that she could handle a kitchen for her own family. It was evident in her eyes.
"Non, mon amour. J'ai tout juste tellement." She spared a second to kiss him and slap his behind as he left her to it.
He smiled and took a seat across from Ron at the table, loath to intrude on George and Angie's quiet time on the sofa. He watched Fleur work for a moment, still lost and amazed and thankful for whatever he'd done to deserve a brilliant woman like her. She was everything he'd never known he'd needed and more, and she showed him on a daily basis how she thought he was the same for her. Every moment together was a joy, even arguments.
He became aware then that Ron was also looking at Fleur, and not in a brotherly way. Bill reached across the table and cuffed him upside the head.
"Oi!" Ron frowned at him, then saw his glare and assumed his 'little-scamp-with-his-hand-in-the-biscuit-barrel' grin. As though that was somehow going to excuse him from checking out his wife.
"You going to keep your eyes where they belong or would you rather not be able to chew solid food?" He asked the little clown.
"Uhh..." Ron stammered, as he realized his ploy hadn't worked. He looked down at the table for a moment as his cheeks went red, then looked over at George and Angie on the sofa. "Say Bill... What wood you reckon your wand's made of?" He asked. He was trying very poorly to hide a sneaky grin, like Ron was stitched up at the thought of his own brilliance as he tried to pull one over on him.
After what his parents had told him about Ron and the wedding invitation, it wasn't difficult to see where Ron was headed with it, especially after dad had locked Ron's wand away.
Bill sighed and took his wand out, careful to keep it out of Ron's lunge-and-grab reach.
"It's Hawthorn, thirteen inches, with Stupefy."
Ron's head banged onto the table as he lost consciousness.
"Everyone - go ahead and eat without us, we might be a while. I'm not willing to let stupid here burn the place down trying to incinerate an invulnerable portkey invitation, so I'm taking him to St. Mungo's to have him checked for alchemy and potions and have a mind healer look at him."
"Aww, bless." Molly said from her favourite chair. She had claimed tenderness from overwork as the reason for letting Fleur cook dinner, so he didn't expect her to get up as she'd normally have done.
"Thank you son, we'd not have the means for another couple of weeks." Dad said from his chair, but came over and gave him a quick hug.
"It's nothing, Dad. Maybe start thinking about what to do with him if it turns out he's not got something wrong with him."
"Oh. Yes, that's a fair point, really."
Bill picked up his little brother with one arm around his neck, and half-dragged him into the floo. A pinch of powder and green flames later, he stepped into the St. Mungo's receiving area.
"Welcome, what's the trouble?" The Welcome Witch asked.
"I'd like to get my little brother checked out by a mind healer and also checked for potions and other influences." Bill smiled at the hard-working medwitch.
She nodded and jotted a note on a tablet. "Just have a seat over there." She pointed toward an empty waiting area.
"Thanks." He shuffled Ron over to the nearest bench and sat him on it, then stuck him there with a sticking charm so he wouldn't fall over or slide off.
At least there looked to be a few magazines he hadn't read yet.
It was near to half an hour before they were approached by a middle-aged woman in green Healer robes.
"Good evening, I'm Healer Higgins. You're here for your brother is it?"
Bill shook the woman's hand. "Bill Weasley. Little brother Ronald. He's had some issues recently, some obsessive and idiotic behaviour, and I'd like to see if he's being affected by anything. Once we know he's not potioned or poisoned, I'd like him to see a mind Healer because if he isn't potioned then he has a lot of explaining to do."
The Healer smiled at him. "Well, the first part is very easy. Is he stunned?"
"Yes, I did it, to get him here without the shouting and nonsense. Also a sticking charm to the bench so he didn't fall off."
She nodded. "Very well, we'll ignore those then." She took her wand out and made some complicated patterns over Ron's limp form. A coloured display sprang into being in the air above him. Information scrolled upward, and the Healer paid close attention to it.
"Your brother has some lingering dark magic on him." She said. "It's strange though, it's just an echo. It's very difficult to detect, but also means that it isn't affecting him in any way. It's like he's wearing a smudge of soot from a dark magic fire he got too close to. Apart from that, your stunner and sticking charm, he isn't being affected by anything. Well, nothing magical at least."
"Brilliant, thank you Healer Higgins." Bill smiled.
"Sorry I couldn't be more help, Mister Weasley." She smiled back.
"No, no. You have been, definitely. Knowing he's not being dosed is a big help. It means it's down to the mind healer now. Thank you again."
"Good luck." She said, and went further into the hospital.
Bill sat back down next to Ron and waited another few minutes before he was approached by a thin, well-groomed man in purple Healer robes.
"Good evening, Mister Weasley is it?"
"Yes, Bill Weasley." He shook the man's hand.
"I'm Mind Healer Grimsby. I assume your brother is likely to complain if you wake him up?"
"Loudly. Without end."
Grimsby chuckled. "Let's get him into my office before waking him then, shall we?"
Bill nodded and cast a quick Nullumpondus on Ron, then carried him to the Healer's office. The office was down in the basement of the building - a place Bill had never been before. There were several house elves coming and going through the halls of the basement, carrying towels or bedsheets or clothing. Grimsby led him to a secluded corner of the building, and opened a thick oak door set into thick concrete walls. The inside of the office was quite pleasant, neutral-coloured walls, soft, plush sofas and chairs, and a very nice cherry wood desk. There were several plants throughout the office as well, and natural lighting. It didn't feel like it was in a basement at all.
Bill set Ron in a comfortable position on a sofa.
"Would it be better if I stayed or waited upstairs?" He asked.
"It might be best if you waited upstairs, truthfully. I've found people are more willing to open up when they don't feel they have to be a certain way."
Bill nodded. "I'll wait for his return upstairs then." He left the pleasant office and went back to the waiting area. He really wanted to go home, but having any kind of diagnosis would be beneficial, so he stayed. He was bored out of his mind and paced the room more often than he'd like to admit, but it was only about an hour until Ron and Healer Grimsby returned.
"Wanker." Ron said sullenly, and went to the floo. He dropped a sickle in the dispenser and got a pinch of powder, then used it to return to the Burrow immediately.
"So, is there anything actually wrong with him?" He asked Healer Grimsby when Ron had gone and the green flames disappeared.
"Oh absolutely." Healer Grimsby nodded sadly. "Unfortunately, there really isn't anything I can do unless Ronald wants to change. Right now he doesn't. He sees the world as hostile to him personally. He is the hero of his own life, beset on all sides by inequity and betrayal."
"Well, he would say that. His own actions have alienated everyone who's cared about him."
"Oh indeed. That much was very clear. My estimates place his mental age at about eight years old. Perhaps nine. I could very likely make an entire career out of just getting his mental age to match his physical, but again only if he wanted to make the effort."
Bill sighed. "Thank you for making the effort to evaluate him in any case, Healer."
"My pleasure. I don't get many patients honestly, and your brother was so interesting I've waived my fee. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mister Weasley."
"That's stellar of you, Healer Grimsby, you as well."
Grimsby smiled and strolled back toward his office.
Bill stood quietly for a moment, and let the Healer's diagnosis sink into his mind. What it came down to, ultimately, was that Ron was Ron. He could be more than he was, but probably wouldn't.
He just had to try and explain that to his parents.
The Harbourfront Bistro was a large, bright place with modern furniture and most of the wall facing the harbour was windows. The view of the water and the boats bobbing on it was very pleasant. Gwenog had been there before, for team functions and occasionally with her dad, though he was getting a little old to be making the trip to Holyhead just to see her anymore. Sure, wizards and witches lived a very long time, but what nobody ever said was that they're just as susceptible as everyone else to the ravages of poor living. Seventy years of fried everything and beans counting as a vegetable had left him barely mobile. Sure, he was more powerful magically than ever, but magic didn't make up for a lack of physical activity. Gwenog was actually rather proud she'd made that observation, and that her chosen career kept her quite trim. Even when she decided she'd had enough of Quidditch in ten or twenty years, she'd be damn sure to stay in shape.
It was on the heels of those thoughts that Gwenog caught her first sight of Hermione Potter, and that sight made her instantly feel old, fat, and weak. Hermione didn't stride into the restaurant haughtily, she didn't slink in trying to go unnoticed. No, Hermione Potter simply appeared in the chair opposite her. Silently. Not a single other person noticed.
Hermione wore a comfortable dress in navy blue with short sleeves, and Gwenog was amazed by the state of her arms. Her wiry, developed muscles were plainly visible with her every movement. She appeared in her chair like she'd been there for a few minutes, and calmly trained her gaze on Gwenog. To say she was intimidating would be both true and massive understatement. The power Hermione radiated was beyond anything she'd ever experienced.
"Your wand please." Hermione held out her hand as her eyes bored into Gwenog's
Now hang on just a minute...
"What do you want with my wand?" Gwenog frowned.
"Very well. Have a nice life, Miss Jones." Hermione said as she pushed her chair back and began to stand.
"Hang on, I'm suspicious, not stupid." Gwenog fished her wand out of its holster at the small of her back and handed it over by the tip.
Hermione sat back down again and accepted her wand, then placed it on the table in front of her. "One might argue that suspicion precludes stupidity, provided the suspicion is founded in critical thinking rather than fear. Which one are you?"
Gwenog had to smile. The woman didn't disappoint. "Would I be here if it was fear?"
Hermione's gaze softened some, though it could by no means be construed as a smile.
"Why are you here?" She asked. "Why am I here?" It wasn't an accusatory tone, though. It sounded as though she was genuinely asking, rather than using the question as a prelude to leaving. Well, if she really wanted to know... that was the point of wanting to see her in the first place, really.
"First off, let me clear the pitch. There are no doubt hundreds of wizards and witches dying for a moment of your time, who think that because they have wealth or fame that you'll grant them whatever they want - I see that all time myself. That's not me. Thank you for coming, for granting me a moment to speak to you as a person instead of an icon. I read the papers, and I read between the lines. The fact that the Prophet has less than a thimbleful of actual information on you and your fiance says to me that you are both intensely private people and don't give a snitch for fame. That being the case, I knew there would be no opportunity to meet you otherwise. No Ministry dinners, no League appearances... you want to live your own life on your own terms, especially now that you're finished doing what no-one else had the spine to. The Ministry exists to safeguard the lives and rights of the constituent wizards and witches. As such, there should never have been a Voldemort problem in the first place. It should have been slapped down as just another idiotic supremacy cult. The fact that it wasn't says that the Ministry as such doesn't really exist anymore. It's nothing but a seething cesspit of corruption and pandering.
"So, that in mind, I am here to offer you and your fiance my deepest and most humble thanks and apologies, for not at least helping you do what you have done. Every single one of us carries a deadly weapon with us at all times, and yet couldn't be arsed to communicate with each other or congregate to stand up for ourselves. I'm here to thank you for the depth of your personal responsibility - a responsibility I share, and yet did not discharge. You're here, I guess, because you're a nice person and decided to give me a chance? I'm less sure on that count."
Hermione seemed to consider her words with her head cocked slightly to one side, like she was running through all the ramifications of what had been said. "There are many people we blame for the situation that tarnished our childhoods - and those of our parents - but you aren't one of them. You are correct in your summation of the reason our actions were needed, and I find it refreshing to encounter someone who sees it clearly, including your own responsibility. Thank you, Miss Jones."
"Please, call me Gwen."
"Alright Gwen. I admit I find it refreshing to talk to another woman who actually uses her mind, as you clearly do. The entirety of Magical Britain seems to have never heard of forethought or responsibility or common sense, so thank you for that as well. I find myself at something of a loss for where to go from here. I was honestly not expecting an apology or a thank you. Did you have anything else you wanted to talk about? Have you eaten here before?" Hermione seemed to relax somewhat.
"I imagine you get a lot of desperate people saying thank you like they would to someone who kept the owl post running, or who kept the floos working. 'Without you we'd be sunk!', that kind of thing. The kind of thank you people only give when they finally realize everything could've been completely tits up and now isn't. Lazy, ignorant thanks, without a shred of Mea Culpa. Sorry for that. Yes, I've eaten here a few times. The food is quite good. I'm partial to the prawn sandwich."
"Lovely. have you eaten lunch yet?" Hermione leaned sideways slightly, and said something under her breath that she couldn't catch.
"No, not yet." Gwen admitted. She thought the point was to come and have lunch and talk, but now she saw that lunch was only ever going to happen if Hermione decided to stay. She supposed she couldn't really blame the woman.
The waiter came over and delivered menus then, without saying a word. Gwen thought it odd, because the wait staff always introduced themselves and made friendly conversation, it was part of the job. Did Hermione just use a wandless Confundus on the man? Her estimation of Hermione's power shot upward like a Firebolt.
Hermione looked over the menu, but Gwen had already decided on her favourite. Hermione looked up from the menu toward the waiter, and the waiter immediately approached, pad and pen in hand.
"I'd like the lime and coriander chicken with vegetables please, and a full order of fish and chips, but the fish and chips is to go." She told him.
The waiter turned to her then, so she ordered the prawn sandwich. The waiter nodded, and went to the kitchen.
"The fish is lightly breaded and very crispy, but the batter doesn't stay that way long and doesn't reheat very well, so you're aware." Gwen said. She assumed it was either for her fiance or for dinner, and either way it was good information to have.
Hermione actually did smile at that, but it wasn't a warm, friendly smile. It was the smile a spider gives a fly caught in its web.
"It won't have a chance to go cold, it's for the Hit Wizard with his wand at your back."
Gwen felt a soft poke at her back, between her shoulderblades. She slowly turned to look, but there was no-one behind her.
"Disillusioned, of course. We are in public." Hermione added.
Gwen hadn't thought she could hold Hermione in any higher regard, but she had been mistaken. Even with her incredible power and obvious fitness, she didn't take any chances. No doubt she had learned that the hard way, and Gwen felt another stab of guilt over that. What an absolute thrill to talk with a woman who thought her way through confontations before they ever became confrontations. What must it be like to debate with her? To discuss magical theory? Gwen felt herself getting excited at the prospect of having an intellectual conversation with someone who could actually hold one. A smile spread across her face.
"Harming you or anyone is the farthest thing from my mind, but you never can be too careful. I appreciate the lowering of your guard, thank you."
If she wasn't lowering her guard, she wouldn't have told her about her backup. Gwen abandoned her "Captain" persona completely then, it would have been a hindrance and an insult to Hermione's intelligence. It was dead useful for making teammates perform well, and keeping fans at arms' length, but at this table it simply wasn't needed, and it felt like a breath of fresh air to drop it.
Hermione's smile warmed considerably, and Gwen could tell she'd impressed her by recognizing the reality of the situation.
"Your public persona doesn't portray your intellect. Is that intentional or a consequence of attempting to fit in?" Hermione asked.
"A consequence. It started as a way to get the team to do what they're asked and follow formations, and just developed into a mask to hide behind in public. I've had to deal with reporters a lot, especially when I was first starting out. It's useful, but does have its downsides."
Hermione nodded. "It's nice to meet the real you then. You and I actually met once when I was in fifth year, at one of Slughorn's parties. I... thought you were a bit full of yourself, honestly. I'm glad to see it was just your 'public face'."
Gwen chuckled. "Sorry for that. I do tend to project quite a bit. I'm glad you gave me another chance for conversation."
"These days conversation is in short supply. I haven't met another woman I could have a conversation with since I met my friend Luna."
"Luna's a nice name, not very common. Her surname wouldn't be Lovegood, would it?'
"You know her?"
Gwen smiled. "I used to babysit her sometimes after her mother died. I grew up down the village in Ottery Saint Catchpole."
"Well. Small world. She never mentioned you, I'm sorry."
"There's no reason she would. If she even remembers me, I was young and far more concerned with Quidditch and my own social life. One more regret. How did you meet?"
"School. Luna was in the year after me. She actually made friends with Harry first, but she's a great person. One of only two who visited us in the hospital regularly. My best friend and Maid of Honour."
"Wow. Yeah, small world. What happened with the hospital if you don't mind me asking?"
Hermione immediately tensed, her face ceased to show emotion, but her eyes flashed with pain. For a second she thought she might have committed a terrible faux-pas, but the young witch took a deep breath and deliberately relaxed.
"Death eater hit Harry in the back with a curse. It was... not good."
"Merlin, I'm sorry."
"It's fine. It turned out alright, but the worst four months of my life."
"Four months?! Sweet Magic. My worst crash was only three weeks. Even then I nearly went out of my mind being forced to rest. I can't imagine what kind of hell four months would be."
"Worse because it was Harry and I was left to research a counter to the curse as well as defend his unconscious body while going out of my mind with worry. Luna and another friend Neville were wonderful during that time."
"Defend his unconscious body?"
"Even though I was next to him every moment, I still foiled one possible attempt on his line."
On his line? Oh dear Merlin, some filthy witch actually tried to get to his broomstick?!
"I... I can't even... Who... no, there are probably dozens... That's just... I'm so sorry. That's horrifying."
"Thank you, but that's been the last several years, honestly. Life hasn't been pleasant since... well, ever really. Not until this last month."
"See, this is exactly why I wanted to meet you and say thank you. I hope the rest of your lives are pure bliss to compensate. So unfair. I wish I had come to you and offered to help when it still mattered."
The waiter brought their food out, without any sign of the fish and chips, which made sense if it was to go, they'd wait until they were finished their dinner to bring it out so it was as fresh and hot as possible. After discussing such painful events, Gwen was pleased to see the food put a smile on Hermione's face. The prawn sandwich was just as good as she remembered, and neither meal lasted long.
"You were right, the food is quite nice." Hermione said as she put her knife and fork down and pushed the plate away.
"Been living in Holyhead for almost ten years. My dad loves this place, when he can get here. Hasn't been able to for a few years now. I've been trying to figure out a portal system in my spare time, but I haven't gotten very far with it." Gwen told her somewhat sadly.
"I'd be surprised if you had. The Department of Mysteries hasn't come up with a workable solution yet, at least not one I could see when I was there. A wonderfully ambitious thing to try, though. You might be farther ahead to experiment with Vanishing Cabinets. You might have to test them frequently, but at least they're currently possible."
"True. I should probably secure a practical solution while working on the pet project."
"Makes me want to figure something out for international travel. Something besides the bloody floo." Hermione looked distasteful at the mention of the floo network.
Gwen chuckled. "Not a fan of the venerated floo network?"
"Not in the slightest. If it were an independent, automatic network that worked without needing a department in the ministry to actually function, then maybe. As it is you can have your escape route cut off in seconds. I fully intend to look into an alternative, but it's on a back burner for now."
"Let me know when you do, I'll share my notes on what I have so far. I'd love to have your input on it. I'm no Hermione Potter, but if I can help with your project then I'd love to as well."
"How far along are you? Is it still theoretical or have you finished the Arithmancy?" There was a joy, an excitement to Hermione's eyes that Gwen found just wonderful. This woman probably studied the proofs for Gamp's Laws in her spare time, looking for mistakes or loopholes. It made Gwen want to go home and swim through more calculations.
"Sadly I'm still chewing through the Arithmancy. I got bogged down inside Brazzleton's spatial corollary, trying to reduce distance to zero. Seeing your excitement makes me want to go bang my head against it some more though." Gwen smiled.
"Are you free next Friday?" Hermione asked as her eyes bored into Gwen's.
"I certainly can be. Normally there's practice every day, but we're weeks from an actual match, so nobody will bat an eye if I miss one." Everyone knew Gwen was wholly devoted to the team, and she only missed a practice occasionally.
"Good. I'll send a a proper invitation between now and then. I must admit you're not what I expected, Gwen, and I'm pleasantly surprised. I don't meet many people, and even fewer I'd meet a second time."
"Likewise... do you prefer Miss Granger or Mrs. Potter?"
"I prefer Mrs. Potter, but you can call me Hermione, Gwen." She handed Gwen's wand back to her.
Gwen flashed her a smile. "Likewise, Hermione. It's been an absolute pleasure to meet you. I look forward to discussing our respective projects."
Hermione motioned to the waiter and he brought her a container, presumably with fish and chips inside. She accepted the container and slipped the waiter a twenty. He left again without saying a word. Gwen found herself wanting to know how she did that.
"Enjoy the rest of your day Gwen, and don't worry about lunch, it's taken care of." Hermione smiled at her as she simply disappeared - no Disillusionment, no Apparation, just gone.
Gwen found herself admiring the younger woman and thinking about what she was doing with her life as she left the restaurant. Somehow Quidditch just didn't seem so important anymore.
"That was a bit surprising." Harry said when they arrived back to Potter House. "I thought for sure you were done in the first ten seconds there."
"So did I," Hermione smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You were brilliant though. She probably thinks I'm some kind of wandless magic master now. What did you do to the waiter?"
"Just a silent Confundus. Nothing special." He kissed her tenderly. "I'm thrilled you think she could be a friend. You want to know what Luna thinks of her, that's why you'll invite her for Friday, right?"
She kissed him tenderly again, eager for more. "When did you get to be so smart?" She smiled softly at him, love and lust evident in her eyes.
"When I finally realized you were the best thing that ever happened to me."
Hermione laughed and kissed him again. "Bloody flattery." She put the fish and chips in his hands and kissed him again quickly. "Go eat, then you can get back to the flattery. My back could use you when you're done too."
He grinned back at her, "Alright love. Go have a read or something and I'll be with you in a minute."
He sat in the kitchen and enjoyed the piping hot fish and chips with a root beer, but it didn't take him more than fifteen minutes. Hermione was curled in her favourite spot on the sofa, legs tucked under her, writing on a lapdesk she'd glued to the arm of the sofa with a sticking charm.
"Gwen's invitation for Friday?" He asked.
"Finished that in the first minute, stuck a portkey on it to get her to the Apparation point outside the Wards, and asked Cassi to deliver it. This is for the baby." She smiled at him and ran one hand over her ever-expanding stomach.
"It makes my insides warm to hear you talk about the baby like that. I'll wait until you're finished before I ask if I can read it. Do you want to finish first or come back to it after your back?' He stood over her and kissed her forehead.
"Just give me a few minutes, I'll come up and join you in the bedroom. I need to get changed anyway. I like this dress, but it's not great for lounging about."
"Same for the dragonhide. Great in a fight, not so great for wearing around the house." He took the dragonhide vest off, which left him in a sweaty T-shirt, then took that off as he made his way up the stairs. He waited until he was in the bedroom to remove the dragonhide pants.
Hermione was waiting for him naked on the bed when he got out of the shower. He dried himself quickly with magic, and went to the dresser to get clean clothes.
"Don't bother." She told him. "I want my delicious naked slave boy to massage me."
Harry laughed. "As you wish, my queen." They would definitely be exploring the roleplay later. For now he was delighted to fulfill her desires. He took the vitamin and emollient cream from the nightstand and warmed it by rubbing it over his palms before he got down to massaging her back. She lay on her side with her knees at ninety degrees, and he started gently as he massaged the tired muscles from her neck to her behind. When he was done that side, he grabbed her hipbone and rolled her over to her other side, then went around the other side of the bed to repeat the performance. When he was finished, he rolled her onto her back and worked the cream into the skin of her stomach, then gently moved to each breast, then down to her stomach again, then more cream for her hips and buttocks and thighs. The cream was fantastic for allowing skin to stretch and thus preventing stretch marks, but it also smelled good and let his hands glide over her skin.
By the time he had finished his ministrations he was full-on and ready to service her other needs, but Hermione was fast asleep.
He folded the comforter over her and lay down beside her after kissing her stomach and their unborn child.
"I love you kid, but you're really taking a lot out of your mum, and I'm a little put out by that." He whispered.
He lay down next to her, and she unconsciously snuggled into his heat. He kissed her head and wrapped an arm around her protectively.
A nap was fine too.