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Contagion | ||||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts Characters:None Genres: Drama Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 210 Summary: Muggle and magical illnesses are separate. Until they’re not. Harry has always had a discernable enemy. This time, he’s fighting an invisible and indiscriminate threat. Part of the Cuts universe. Hitcount: Story Total: 112764; Chapter Total: 1825 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Happy New Year, everyone!! Whatever you did to celebrate the end of 2019 – DO NOT DO THE SAME THING AGAIN! |
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Interference Harry pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron, keeping his head down as he rapidly scanned the tables. He spotted Owen sitting in a booth near the fireplace, and quickly made his way across the room, not meeting anyone’s eyes. The pub was more crowded than he’d seen recently, showing people were getting back into their normal routines. He wasn’t certain why Owen had asked to meet him here. The Daily Prophet had finally sniffed out word of his engagement, making any public appearance a nightmare for Harry and Ginny. The Ministry was back to screening their mail — as they’d done after the war — because Ginny had received several death threats and one exploding letter from disgruntled witches. The exploding letter had actually come from the mother of one of these witches. Harry had received his fair share of scorned witches writing to him, along with a ton of alternate marriage proposals, but none of them had exploded. The lunchtime crowd was loud and chatty, the murmur of various conversations filling the pub. A trail of silence followed Harry as he strolled past the various tables as people looked up and realized who’d entered the establishment. Harry’s neck burned as he felt the weight of so many eyes upon him. He reached the booth where Owen sat and slid across the bench, close to the wall, in an attempt for some cover. Owen smirked at him lazily, obviously enjoying Harry’s poor attempt at being subtle. “Mr. Potter—” a short, paunchy wizard at the next table began excitedly before Owen held up a hand to stop him. Using his wand, he cast a spell around the table. The paunchy wizard’s lips continued to move, but Harry couldn’t hear what was being said. “Nice,” Harry said appreciatively. “Does that also prevent him from hearing what we say?” “Naturally,” Owen said cockily. “Unfortunately, I can’t cast a repelling charm as I’m waiting for the waitress to bring my drink. Also, Robards is meeting us here.” “Robards? Here?” Harry asked, bewildered. Gawain Robards was rarely social, and Harry had never met him anywhere but in front of his large desk at the office. “Don’t ask me. He sent me a Patronus asking us both to meet him here. Something must be going on that he wants to keep on the down low,” Owen said. “Do you think it has anything to do with our detainee?” Harry asked. “Must have, unless he has another lead,” Owen replied, smiling at Hannah as she brought a couple Butterbeers to their table. Their Knockturn Alley proprietor was currently being held in a Ministry safehouse. After the attack at his shop, a second one happened at St. Mungo’s before he was brought to the Ministry. As of yet, the shop keeper had remained tight-lipped, but he obviously knew something and was terrified of being sent back into the general public. “Here you are, Auror Savage, Auror Potter,” Hannah said, sliding the bottles toward each of them. “You’ve created quite a buzz by showing up here, Harry. I have a list of drinks various patrons have requested to be sent over.” “Nothing today, thanks, Hannah,” Harry said, shaking his head. “We’re on duty.” Hannah nodded. “I reckoned. I’ll try and keep them away from you. Mostly, they’re just happy to see you up and about. How’s Ginny?” “She’s fine. Back at work, too,” Harry said. “I saw Neville earlier this morning. He looks good.” “I’m so glad he’s back at work. Between the quarantine he experienced before the quarantine we all experienced, he’s been climbing the walls. He has new plant projects crawling all over his flat. There’s barely any room for actual people in there.” Harry laughed, easily picturing the scene. “We’re expecting one more to join us, if you could direct him this way when he comes in.” “Will do. I’m not certain it’s official, but if the Daily Prophet has it right, let me offer my congratulations,” Hannah said, her cheeks turning rosy as she ducked her head. “Well, they have the engagement part right, anyway,” Harry said, smiling. The number of false stories appearing in print far outnumbered the actual truth. As Ginny had predicted, there had been a lot of speculation that she was expecting. So much so, that people had actually been sending baby gifts along with the pile of letters. Fortunately, none of the baby things had exploded, either. “I reckoned as much. They always did like having a go at you. The Quidditch League has certainly latched onto the story,” Hannah said. Harry grimaced. Desperate for something to distract attention from their exhibition match being a super spreader of the illness, and so many of its players and personnel being affected, the Quidditch League had latched onto Ginny’s engagement to ‘The Dark Lord Vanquisher’ like a lifeline. They tried to get Ginny’s comments on most stories, and kept making offers to host the entire wedding. Ginny had repeatedly turned them down, but as of yet, they were unperturbed by her lack of enthusiasm. Gwenog Jones had even requested that Harry make a special appearance at their next match. Harry tried to attend all of Ginny’s matches, but this time, he was seriously considering watching it from beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Fortunately, the match was still a few weeks off. “Don’t I know it? You’d think a player never got married before,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Hannah giggled. “Well, best of luck keeping all the nosy nellies out. Can I get you some lunch, or will you wait for your friend?” “Our boss, actually, so I think we’ll wait,” Harry replied. Hannah nodded before returning to the bar. Owen had already nearly finished his Butterbeer. “Are you enjoying all the ruddy wedding planning? The whole idea of a big fancy do never appealed to me.” “Good, that’s one less invitation I’ll have to worry about, then,” Harry said easily. He and Ginny had already begun making a list of potential attendees. “Right,” Owen snorted. “I’d best get my bloody invite, along with a plus one. That’ll be the hottest ticket in town, that will. I bet I could finally get Michelle down in the Department for Magical Transportation to go out with me.” Owen had been chasing this particular witch since long before the pandemic, and she’d yet to give him the time of day. “Good luck with that,” Harry said, grinning. “I bet I could wrangle two dates out of it. Once just to be sure we’re compatible before committing to a whole day together at a wedding, mind,” Owen said, mulling it over. Harry shook his head, silently wishing Michelle in the Department for Magical Transportation luck. “Never mind the wedding, I want to know about your stag night. Is Ron planning it?” Owen asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Funnily enough, I’m not involved with any plans for my own stag night,” Harry said, not being entirely truthful. He’d warned Ron that if he did anything too out of hand, there’d be payback when it was time for him to marry Hermione, and Harry knew exactly how to hack Hermione off. Ron had paled slightly at these words, but Harry thought he’d ensured that his own stag night would remain in some semblance of control and off the front page of the Daily Prophet. “Oh, don’t give me that ‘effin shite. You know. You always know. Will there be strippers?” Owen asked hopefully. “Not if Ron knows what’s good for him,” Harry muttered under his breath, imagining the field day the press would have with that. Before Owen could continue his needling, Gawain Robards entered the pub. His penetrating dark eyes spotted them immediately, and he joined them in their booth, sliding in next to Harry. “Thanks for meeting me here,” he said brusquely, forgoing any greeting. “I wanted you both to be aware that there’s been certain pressure from within the Ministry to cease and desist investigating the records from St. Mungo’s.” “Pressure from where?” Harry asked swiftly, straightening his spine. “Indeterminate. I keep getting notifications of complaints from the Wizengamot. Apparently, the fact you’re keeping that Knockturn Alley potion maker in Ministry custody is causing some unease in very high-profile families,” Robards said, raising his eyebrows. “Interesting. I’ll wager a bet that the pressure is coming from those same families who wouldn’t have had a problem with experimenting on Muggles,” Owen said. “Bingo,” Robards said. “Although I don’t have any specific names to give you, they’re using the excuse that all the war trials are over, and we need to move on to more current crimes.” “Like discovering who spread this new strain of Spattergroit?” Harry asked, already suspecting the answer. Robards shook his head grimly. “Surprisingly, they’re remarkably blasé about that one,” he said. “I wonder if they’re more concerned that we’re investigating old war crimes, or that our potioneer might connect one of them to an illness infecting wizards?” Harry mused. “How do you mean?” Robards asked sharply. Harry shrugged. “Well, if the original goal was to infect Muggles, and someone was fine with that, but instead something mutated and began infecting wizards indiscriminately, I can’t imagine the backers would be too pleased,” Harry said slowly, his thoughts forming as he spoke. Gawain Robards rubbed his finger along his lip thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting angle, Potter,” he said. Harry’s brain wasn’t finished, however. “Of course, even if a family supported the old Pureblood supremacy in the past, the tide has changed, and most of the families of former Death Eaters are being ostracized and shunned. It could just as easily be someone who escaped notice after the war, and doesn’t want to draw that sort of negative attention to themselves now,” he said. “Both plausible theories, and both plausible reasons certain members of the Wizengamot might want the investigation diverted,” Robards said, his finger still running along his lip. “So, are you telling us you want us to drop our investigation, sir?” Owen asked, puzzled. Robards raised his eyebrows. “I think the fact that I’m meeting with you here to fill you in would’ve clued you in to the fact that I’m not telling you that, Savage. Keep doing what you’re doing and ruffling some feathers. You’re both surprisingly good at it.” Harry and Owen grinned at one another, tapping their bottles of Butterbeer together. It was at this break in the conversation that Hannah appeared, always so appreciated for her tact. She took their lunch orders, as well as leaving a refill of the Butterbeers. “Has this detainee given you any solid leads?” Robards asked once Hannah had left. “Nothing. He makes like a clam every time we show up at the safe house,” Owen said sourly. “Tell him you’re releasing him, then,” Robards replied. “Er… there have been multiple attacks on his person, so there is a safely issue,” Harry said cautiously. “I’m aware of that, but if he thinks he’s being turned out on his own, it might loosen his tongue,” Robards said unconcernedly. “And if it doesn’t?” Owen asked. Robards shrugged. “Keep up surveillance. If anyone strikes out at him again, perhaps you can apprehend someone with looser lips.” “Yes, sir,” both Harry and Owen chorused. The food magically appeared in front of them, and the three wizards dug in. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw a booth full of witches huddled behind a copy of this morning’s Daily Prophet. His hapless photograph appeared alongside one of Ginny’s where she looked decidedly shifty. The headline read, Could Our Savior Be Under The Influence Of A Love Potion? Disgusted, Harry took a long draught of his Butterbeer and stabbed his fork into his beef casserole. His reaction didn’t go unnoticed by either Owen or Robards. “They ought to just add a separate daily paper — the Harry edition,” Owen said, sniggering. “Or they could just quit making stuff up and report actual news,” Harry snapped, scowling. “Don’t worry about it. They exist to sell papers, and stories like that lets witches believe you need saving, and they could be the one to do it,” Robards said, barely looking up from his lunch. “I’m getting married. I don’t need saving. Where were all of them when Voldemort was trying to kill me year after year?” Harry asked, grumbling. Robards smirked, actually smirked! “Does it upset your fiancé?” he asked. “Ginny? Hell, no. She’ll probably slip a few drops of water in whatever I’m drinking while my back is turned the next time we’re out, just to mess with them,” Harry said. “It sounds like she has the right attitude. You could take a lesson from her,” Robards said, causing Owen to grin. “Yeah, well, we each have our buttons. You should’ve seen her yesterday when the Quidditch League was trying to bully her into allowing them to host our wedding. It’s a wonder she didn’t hex anyone,” Harry said, remembering her fury with appreciation. “Yes, Ludo Bagman approached me wondering if I would be interested in teaming our departments up in order to get the inside scoop on what you’re planning,” Robards said, watching Harry closely. Harry’s mouth fell open despite himself. “He did not. What did you tell him?” he asked, wondering why he continued to be amazed at the lengths people would go. “I told him to mind his own business,” Robards replied. “Thank you!” Harry said. “I wish there was more of that attitude going around.” He viciously stabbed a piece of his lunch, no longer feeling very hungry. “All right,” Gawain Robards said, pushing back his plate. “I need to get back to the Ministry and deal with the stack of complaints against the both of you. I’m sure there have been a few more while I’ve been here. Keep me updated if you learn any more. Oh, and lunch is on me.” As he left the table and approached the bar, Owen muttered, “If I’d known that, I would’ve tried getting a bloody Firewhisky.” “So, what d’you think? Shall we head on over to the safehouse and tell our tight-lipped friend he’s free to go?” Harry asked. Owen nodded. “Sounds good. I want to play the ‘bad Auror’ role today,” he said. Harry rolled his eyes. “You naturally play the ‘bad Auror’ role, Owen. We should transfigure our robes into plain black ones before we go over, just in case he calls our bluff and we have to follow him out.” “Good idea. I honestly don’t think it’ll get that far. Bloke is spooked,” Owen said, finishing off his Butterbeer. “Be wary of anything he says, though. I wouldn’t put it past him to lie just to save his own neck.” Harry picked up his fork and took another bite of his mostly uneaten lunch. It really was quite good. “True,” he said, “unless my ‘good Auror’ routine has him so convinced I’m on his side, he’ll hang whoever he’s shielding out to dry.” “Right,” Owen said, rolling his eyes. “Finish your lunch so we can get a move on it. You really need to learn to ignore the papers. Letting it upset you only makes them win.” “Easy for you to say,” Harry snorted. “They’ve been making up things about me all my life, but it’s harder to take when they have a go at her. That article there,” Harry said, tossing his head toward the booth of witches reading the love potion article, “it’s only going to make it worse. She’s already getting death threats from some barmy witches who are usually the ones who actually are trying to slip me love potions.” “How about you? Isn’t there a well-known group of fan-wizards who like to follow the Harpies from match to match and show up at all their post-win victory parties?” Owen asked, sounding familiar enough with the concept that Harry was slightly disturbed. “Have any of them sent you death threats?” Harry frowned. “Oddly enough, it’s only increased Ginny’s fan mail. She keeps getting letters from them offering her alternate wedding proposals, or to come visit them when she gets tired of me. None of them have written to threaten me at all.” Owen snored, closing his eyes as if pained and shaking his head. “What?” Harry asked blankly. “Harry, you’re the bloody Dark Lord Vanquisher. Anyone in their right mind is going to think twice about challenging you to a duel. Didn’t you say you’re more wary of Molly since watching her duel the Lestrange bint? Same concept,” Owen said. “That’s ridiculous,” Harry said, scrunching up his face in disbelief. “For those of us who know you, of course it is,” Owen said. “But to the general populace, you’re a legend. They’ll think twice about threatening to attack you. More like they’ll do it when your back is turned.” “Gee, thanks for that,” Harry said sarcastically. “No problem,” Owen smirked. “It’s been ages since anyone had a go at you. I’d say you’re overdue.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll have to mind my surroundings.” “Don’t worry, lad. I’ve got your back. Weasley made me promise before he went to work for his brother,” Owen said. Harry put his empty Butterbeer bottle back on the table with a clunk. “He what?” he asked, disbelieving. “He told me he was handing the job of watching your back over to me. If you get hurt, I have to answer to him,” Owen said, smirking. “Bet you’re shaking in your boots,” Harry said. Ron really was a pain in the arse. Owen shrugged. “Ron might’ve been all right with being the sidekick, but let’s get this straight: you’re my sidekick, and you always will be.” Harry nodded. “Glad you were able to get that straightened out.” “Don’t give me any of your cheek. Get your skinny arse up and let’s head over to the safe house,” Owen said grumpily. Harry gave him a mock salute and followed him out of the pub. Ginny blew a puff of air upwards to get the hair out of her eyes. Her hands were full with her training gear, and the stray strand of hair was driving her mental. She lugged her heavy bag to the corner and unceremoniously dumped it. She’d have to do some laundry later. She grabbed an apple off the counter and hurried upstairs to the sitting room to see if anyone else was home yet. She found Hermione in the sitting room, curled up with a book on the sofa and a bottle of wine open on the coffee table in front of her. Ginny exchanged her apple for an empty glass and poured some wine for herself, plopping down beside Hermione. “Long day?” she asked, amused. Hermione shut her book, rolling her eyes. “The longest. It’s hard to be back working at the Ministry with all the interruptions. I used to get so much more done working from here.” “I can’t agree with you on that one. I’m so glad to be back on the pitch,” Ginny replied, grinning. “Oh, there was a Ministry owl waiting when I arrived home with this,” Hermione said, reaching over to a side table and pulling a large envelope off it. Ginny took it with some trepidation. In her experience, Ministry owls had rarely meant anything good. She felt Hermione’s eyes on her as she perused the contents of the envelope. It was Marietta’s additions to the wedding guest list that she’d sent her just that morning. “What is it?” Hermione asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. She tried to peer over the top of the parchment. Ginny laid it flat on her lap so they both could see. “It’s from Marietta. Her writing doesn’t look any different from mine, so I really have to look carefully for any changes she’s made.” “Have you had a problem with anyone she’s added?” Hermione asked, taking a sip of her wine. Ginny shook her head. “Not for the Ministry gala, no. We basically told her she could add anyone she thought appropriate other than former Death Eaters,” she said. “But?” Hermione prompted. “But… she keeps trying to recommend certain individuals for the actual wedding, and it’s beginning to get on my nerves,” Ginny said, holding up a separate, smaller piece of parchment. “This is her latest suggestion. Hubert Marcellos is the new Quidditch Commissioner, but I’ve never met him, and I don’t understand why he needs to see me make my wedding vows.” “So, what happens when you say no to one of her suggestions?” Hermione asked curiously. “She’ll make it again, a bit more forcefully, and when I again refuse, I’ll get a very stern admonition from Gladys Flint,” Ginny replied with a sour expression. “So, you think Gladys is behind it all, or is Marietta running to Gladys whenever she can’t convince you?” Hermine asked. “At first, I thought it was all Gladys, but… now I’m not so certain,” Ginny said slowly, picking up her wine glass. “Why?” Hermione asked, leaning closer. “Just little things — like this handwriting being indistinguishable from my own. I don’t remember it always being that way. Something just feels off,” Ginny said. Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “You think she did it on purpose?” Ginny tilted her head to the side, considering her words before shrugging. “I think the fact the word ‘sneak’ appeared across her face is very telling. A chimera doesn’t change its spots.” Hermione pressed her lips together for a moment before reaching out her hand for the parchment still on Ginny’s lap. “Here, give it to me.” Ginny handed over the list and watched as Hermione waved her wand over it in a complicated pattern. “There you go,” Hermione said, handing it back. “What did you do?” Ginny asked, frowning. A small, secretive smile flitted across Hermione’s face. “Look at it,” she said, beaming. Ginny did, and was surprised to see several names clearly highlighted. She looked up in askance at Hermione. “It’s a spell that will alert you if anyone other than you or Harry makes a change. It won’t be obvious to anyone but you, so you can keep track of what she’s doing,” Hermione said, grinning. “Hermione, you’re brilliant,” Ginny said. “Now I can keep careful watch of what she’s up to. I really like everything else she’s suggested, and I think it’ll be a lovely party, but…” “You still don’t trust her,” Hermione finished. Ginny shook her head. “I don’t. There’s something off about the whole thing, even though there’s nothing so egregious I want to sack her. As I said, I like all the other plans… but I think she’s sneaky.” Hermione smirked, pouring each of them another glass of wine. “You could always threaten her with hexing the wedding list if any other names are added.” Ginny snorted so hard, some of her wine went up her nose. “Let’s not give her reason to sabotage my wedding plans. How do you get on with her at the Ministry?” she asked curiously. “Honestly, I didn’t even know she worked there. I never see her,” Hermione said. “I have no idea if that’s intentional or not, but the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures really doesn’t host a lot of fancy parties.” They were interrupted by Angelina’s appearance in the doorway, carrying a stack of pizza boxes. She placed them on the coffee table and pulled a stack of paper plates and napkins from a bag. “I told George I’d pick these up since it’s his night to cook, and he’s running late,” she said, sitting in one of the wing-backed arm chairs. Hermione poured her a glass of wine while Ginny handed out the plates, and they each took a slice of their preference. “Thanks for the pizza, Angelina,” Ginny said, biting into hers. “George talked about nothing else but missing this the whole time we were quarantined.” “Don’t I know it? I Floo called him one night wearing nothing but a necktie he left in my flat, and he still spent most of the time talking about how much he missed pizza. Good thing I don’t have an inferiority complex,” Angelina said, shaking her head. “How’s your new job going?” Hermione asked, once the three of them had stopped laughing. Angelina shrugged, a troubled expression crossing her face as she glanced at Ginny before quickly looking away. “It’s all right,” she said weakly. “What’s going on, Angelina?” Ginny asked sharply. She knew Angelina worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, who handled most of the Quidditch oversight. “Are they going to delay the season even further?” “What?” Angelina asked blankly. “No… it’s nothing like that. Everyone is looking forward to the start of the season. If anything, some are pushing to get it started more quickly. It’s just…” “Just — what?” Hermione asked, looking as if she already knew when she also gave Ginny an apprising glance. Angelina made a face, brushing a few of her braids out of her face. “I overheard my boss and a couple of the higher-ups discussing your wedding today, actually,” she said, looking directly at Ginny. “Oh, let me guess? Strategizing ways the Quidditch League can get involved and use it for publicity?” Ginny asked, rolling her eyes. Angelina’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yeah! You already knew? I’ve been agonizing all day on whether or not to say anything. Something about it sounded so underhanded, though.” “I’m aware. I’ve been getting pressure from the Harpies ever since I told them, and it’s only getting worse. They’ve always angled to use my relationship with Harry to their benefit. They’d finally begun to accept my refusal, but the wedding news right after the whole contagion nightmare is just too much for them to ignore,” Ginny said, sighing. “What are you going to do about it?” Hermione asked. “Just keep pushing back on my personal and professional boundaries. I mean, I’m inviting my teammates to the wedding, but I see no reason that the Commissioner or any of the League officials need to be there. Your department can make a list of those they think should be invited to the Ministry Gala, and I’ll forward it to Marietta, but that’s it,” Ginny said, finishing her wine. It was getting harder to hold her temper. “That sounds more than fair,” Hermione said, taking another slice of pizza. “I’m sorry if they’re pressuring you,” Ginny said. “Oh! They aren’t. I don’t think they’ve cottoned on yet to how close I am to your family. I’m still the noob in the department, so they don’t pay me much mind,” Angelina said, grinning. Hermione laughed. “You’d best have your ducks in a row if they realize before this wedding happens. They’ll be all over you.” “Don’t I know it?” Angelina said, laughing. “Maybe George and I can stage a fake break up. I think he’d like sneaking around under the Ministry’s nose.” “He would get a kick out of that,” Ginny said, chuckling. “You know what’s even funnier?” Hermione asked, glancing around. “The fact we’ve demolished half this pizza before the boys are even home. Wouldn’t that serve them right for a change?” “Ooh, let’s do it! Let’s eat it all so there’s only a slice left for each,” Ginny said gleefully. “How about we just hide a couple full ones, and leave out the remains of this one?” Hermione said, her wand already out as she Levitated a couple of the pizza boxes into a cabinet, shutting the door behind them. It left two open and picked over boxes on the coffee table. “I put a Warming Charm on them.” “You’re way too good, Hermione,” Angelina said. “I like the idea of just eating it all instead.” “How about we at least finish the wine?” Ginny asked, topping off all their glasses. “Cheers!” Angelina said, picking hers back up. “Forget the wedding, let’s talk about what’s really important. Your hen night. Any requests?” Ginny felt her face coloring and was powerless to control it. “I think you’ll have to talk to a few of my teammates. I know they’re up to something.” “Oh, that’s right. Tell one of them to get in touch with me, and we’ll take it from there. What about Luna? Have you heard from her?” Hermione asked. Ginny laughed outright. “I did. She’s on some expedition, but I still haven’t worked out quite where. She’ll definitely be here for the wedding, and although she prefers to wear sun colors for a wedding, she’s conceded to wear the blue. She said she was going to get a tattoo of a sunflower, and she thought that would suffice.” Hermione looked startled. “She’s getting a tattoo? For your wedding?” “Hermione, haven’t you learned by now not to question anything Luna says? Send her an invite to the hen night, but I don’t know if she’ll make it. She told me she was having an affair with a tribal shaman, although she wouldn’t be bringing him to the wedding because she didn’t think his brand of magic would blend with ours,” Ginny said, barely containing her giggles over the look on Hermione’s face. “Oh, she’d be a laugh at a hen night. I hope she can come,” Angelina said, grinning and also watching Hermione’s reactions. “It’ll be interesting to see how Audrey and Fleur get on with your teammates… and Luna, if she comes. It should be a rather odd mix of players.” “Don’t forget that Fleur was a Triwizard Champion. She might surprise you,” Hermione warned. “Yeah, I think Fleur would be one to kick up her heels,” Ginny said. “I’m not certain about Audrey, however.” “How about Liz and Siobhan? Have you heard from them? They’re coming, right?” Hermione asked. She’d shared a dormitory with Ginny’s roommates during her delayed seventh year, and Hermione had become quite fond of them. “Yes, they’re both coming — and Siobhan told me we’d be shocked by her date. She wouldn’t say who it was, though,” Ginny replied. “Does she still work for Ogden’s?” Hermione asked. “I bet she could get us a great deal on stocking up for hen night.” “She does, and Seamus, too. He sent Harry an owl that he’d be attending, as well. He was the last of his roommates to reply,” Ginny said. “What’s this about my roommates?” Harry asked, entering the sitting room with a general wave. He sank down on the sofa next to Ginny, looking rather tired. “Hi, Harry,” Angelina and Hermione chorused while Ginny gave him a proper kiss hello. “Oh, you have pizza left. I’m starving,” Harry said, taking one of the few remaining slices gratefully. Ginny glanced nervously at Hermione and Angelina, who both narrowed their eyes at her. Truly, she’d wanted to play the missing food joke on her brothers more than Harry. He wouldn’t make a fuss if there wasn’t anything left, just scrounge up something else to eat. In fact, even as this thought ran through her head, Harry picked up her discarded apple and bit into it. “We were talking about Siobhan and Seamus still working for Ogden’s,” Ginny told him, deciding there was enough of their pizza left to share, even if it had gone slightly cold. He didn’t seem to mind. “Oh, yeah. He sent me an owl. He was really the last I was waiting to hear from. I don’t think we’ve had any no’s at all, have we?” he asked, turning to Ginny wide-eyed. “Of course, you haven’t,” Hermione scoffed. “This is the hottest ticket in town, and everyone knows it. I even had Amos Diggory nosing around if I knew who was on the guest list.” “Diggory?” Harry asked, startled. “He’s really doesn’t like me much, but I suppose he’s friendly with your family.” “He’s a work friend of Dad’s, that’s all. He’s on the Ministry list,” Ginny replied coolly. She knew Amos Diggory had been destroyed by the loss of his son, but his continued aggression toward Harry, who was in no way at fault for what happened, continued to grate on her nerves. “What about your cousin, Harry? Have you heard back from him?” Hermione asked tentatively. Ginny knew Harry had no interest in inviting his aunt and uncle, but he and Dudley had got together for a pint a few times, and they seemed to have settled into some sort of truce. He’d hemmed and hawed about sending the invitation, knowing it would be a magical wedding so Dudley wouldn’t be unable to bring a plus one. Ginny had promised him they’d find someone friendly for him to sit with should he choose to come. “I did, actually, and he’s going to come. He’s taking the train north, and I’ve arranged a room in Hogsmeade for him for the night. Professor McGonagall says she’ll have someone accompany him through the gates, and once he’s through, he’ll be able to see the castle,” Harry said. Ginny had wondered how that all worked. She knew Hogwarts appeared as nothing more than ruins to Muggles, and the Muggle-Repelling Charms usually sent them scampering away, anyway. Dudley would just have to resist the urge to flee until he was through the gates. “We’ll need to seat him with someone friendly towards Muggles — other than my dad, of course. I’m afraid my dad will scare him away,” Ginny said, grinning. “Won’t he be at the family table, anyway?” Hermione asked, blinking. Ginny’s eyes widened. She hadn’t really considered that. Stupid, really, as of course he was Harry’s family, even if he didn’t act like it. “That’s good, then. I’ll keep him company since George will be up at the high table. Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll make certain he has a good time,” Angelina said confidently. Harry suddenly looked very worried. “Er… Angelina… you see, he’s not really all that keen on magic.” “That’s not really true, anymore, Harry. Perhaps when he was younger, but he’s grown a lot since living with Hestia,” Ginny said, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She could never quite forgive Dudley for the torment he put Harry through as children, but she wasn’t spiteful enough to deny that he’d really come a long way. “I suppose you’re right,” Harry said. “All right, Angelina — your job will be to look after my cousin and make certain no one hexes him.” “Maybe you could find him a nice witch to rock his world,” Ginny said, sniggering. Her eyes flew open wide and she slapped her hand over her mouth, shocked she’d said that out loud. Harry grinned at her, amused. “Just how much of this wine have you had already? This bottle seems very full.” “That’s because Hermione is excellent with refilling charms,” Angelina said, giggling. They all heard the front door bang closed and heavy thud of footsteps on the stairs before Ron and George appeared in the doorway, both of them shaking droplets of water from their damp hair. It had started raining again. “What’s going on? Have you started without us?” George asked, looking around at the empty pizza boxes. He sat on the empty chair next to Angelina, taking a sip of her wine. “Did you eat all the pizza? Without us?” Ron asked, looking horrified. “I’m starving!” “There’s a piece left here for both of you,” Angelina said without batting an eye. She slipped the last two small pieces of pizza onto plates and handed them over, beaming. Ron looked at his sadly. “But it’s cold.” “Are you a wizard or not? Warm it up,” Hermione said scathingly. She was having a lot of trouble keeping a straight face. Harry quickly swallowed his last bite, perhaps afraid Ron would steal it from him. George stared at his piece, looking rather forlorn. “Oh, for the love of Merlin,” Hermione said, always the first to give in. She used her wand to open the cabinet and hover the two, full, steaming pizzas onto the coffee table. “We saved some for you. Perhaps you both could remember that the next time you get to it first.” Ron’s face broke out into a wide grin, leaning over and kissing Hermione soundly. “I love you, Hermione.” Hermione’s cheeks pinkened, but she looked quite pleased. Even Harry reached over and took another slice of the hot pizza. “Why are you so late, anyway?” Ginny asked. “Well, we need to restock quickly before the Christmas rush starts. Hogwarts being delayed pushed everything back, so now we’re behind,” George said, his mouth full. “It’s really good Ron is there.” Ron nodded, his cheeks bulging. “Biddy,” he said, unintelligibly. “He said it’s busy,” George translated. “We’re thinking of buying another premises strictly for manufacturing. We can hire a few extra hands for separate phases, that way we don’t have to share our product secrets.” Ron nodded eagerly, his cheeks still full. “That’s very clever,” Ginny said. “Ron, if that’s your idea, I think I’ll kiss you,” Angelina said, leaning over to do just that. “Oi, watch it,” George said, pulling her back into her chair. “There’s only so much I’m willing to share.” Angelina rolled her eyes. “I didn’t see anything about you two in the Prophet today,” Angelina said, turning back to Ginny. “I told you the love potion stuff would peter out.” Ginny snorted. “There’s a Quidditch reporter at the Prophet that I’ve become fairly friendly with. She covers all the Harpies’ matches. Anyway, she told me on the sly that someone wrote a biting letter on how foolish they were making themselves look. This person listed very clearly all the symptoms of being under a love potion, and how Harry doesn’t exhibit any of them. Also, that since he pined for me the entire time we were separated, there’s no love potion in the world that could last that long. She said the letter was anonymous, but the author really knew their stuff.” Ginny looked pointedly at Hermione. “It wasn’t me,” Hermione said, raising her hands in the air. “Although now that you say it, I wish I’d thought of it. It really wouldn’t be difficult to disprove.” “It really wasn’t you?” Ginny asked, deflated. She’d been so certain. Who else knew that Harry had pined for her during the Horcrux hunt? “It wasn’t,” Hermione said. “But bully for whoever did it.” Ginny turned toward Harry, who’s face was very low over his pizza, the back of his neck extremely red. “Well, it really doesn’t matter anyway. My reporter friend gave me a tip that tomorrow’s headline will be that I have him under the Imperius Curse,” she said. Harry choked on his pizza. |
| Reviews 210 |
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