Hope you all enjoyed my interpretation of their magical celebrations. My older two sons returned to school, so this was a nice distraction to keep be busy.
As always, huge thanks to my beta team – Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for always sparing time to read and edit for me. I tend to write ahead, and their feedback always keeps me moving and able to control that itch to post before it’s ready.
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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: 112762; Chapter Total: 1751 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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The Important Things in Life Ginny slipped a simple gold bangle bracelet on her wrist and stared at herself critically in the mirror. She wore her favorite jeans with the swirls on the back pockets, and a black, pullover jumper with a high collar. Simple and comfortable, as suggested. Ginny frowned at her reflection, feeling irritated. She hated when someone else knew something that she didn’t. She added a plain gold chain around her neck. She’d put on a bit more make-up than she usually wore, but knowing the group she was heading out with, she thought it was appropriate. Harry entered their bedroom wearing a dashing Muggle suit with a red tie. It clung to his shoulders so perfectly, Ginny had to fight to resist the urge to run her hands along them. “Are you certain you don’t know where I’m going?” she asked petulantly, unreasonably annoyed with him for not knowing where the girls were taking her. “No one told me anything,” he said, grinning, and wrapping his arm around her waist. “They didn’t tell you where I’m going, did they?” She rested her head back against his chest. “No. They refused to tell me,” she said, still irritated with all her brothers over this. Usually, Ron could never keep his mouth shut. Harry chuckled as if knowing exactly what she was thinking. “That’s because they knew we’d let each other know. It’s supposed to be a surprise, Whisky. We’ll both know in a couple hours.” “Don’t call me that,” Ginny snapped, still frustrated. “It’s impossible to dress without knowing where you’re going.” “You look beautiful,” Harry said, kissing the top of her head. “Besides, you can transfigure anything you need.” She hated when he was reasonable. Tonight was to be Harry’s stag night and her hen party, but none of their friends thought they ought to know what had been planned. “They told me not to get too posh, and wear something comfortable, yet you’re supposed to dress like an uppity Muggle. We’re obviously not going to be together,” she said, pouting her lower lip. “Well, I think the whole idea of a stag and hen night is supposed to be a sort of last hurrah before getting hitched, no?” he asked, chuckling. “They’re probably taking you somewhere that Muggle girls take all their clothes off,” Ginny said, irritated with herself by how much the idea bothered her. “No, they won’t. I told Ron not to do anything that would cause a press frenzy if they got wind of it,” he said, kissing the top of her head once again. “As if they’re going to listen to you! They thrive off embarrassing you, Harry, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she said grumpily. “I had noticed, funnily enough, but even though they like to cause me discomfort, they’re oddly protective of anyone else doing it,” Harry said, perplexed. Ginny had to smile, filled with fondness for him and all her brothers, despite their new habit of keeping secrets. “I still wish we could go together.” “You’ll have fun out with all your friends. You talked about doing it all the time when we were quarantined. Maybe you’ll be the one going to a Muggle place where the blokes take all their clothes off,” he said, and a crease formed between his eyes as he thought about it. “I think a few of the Harpies’ fanboys offered to do just that,” Ginny said, giggling when she thought of some of the bizarre offers she’d received from the groupies. “Great,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. He’d never been thrilled with the Harpies’ followers. “I think it’s your teammates you have to worry about more than your friends, to be honest.” “It’s just a good thing they put me back on the first team, or none of them would’ve been invited,” Ginny said, disgruntled. When the Quidditch League had finally recovered from its losses during the contagion, Ginny had been benched for the first few matches. She’d been told it was to give her more time to recover from her illness, but Ginny knew that was a load of dragon dung as Galinda Chen, another of the team’s Chasers who’d also been infected, had started playing right away. The team’s owner had said Galinda’s case was much milder than Ginny’s had been, but Ginny wasn’t buying it. She’d been benched for her refusal to cooperate with the League’s desire to sensationalize her wedding for their gain. Ruth Getter, long-time reserve and suck-up to the team’s captain, Gwenog Jones, had been given Ginny’s spot. If they’d thought Ginny would immediately cave to their shenanigans, they’d been sadly mistaken. Ginny had ranted and raved, but she folded her arms and sat on the bench, rolling her eyes whenever the press focused upon her. It took three matches, three dismal losses, the last of which Ruth had actually tossed the Quaffle to an opposing player, before the team announced Ginny was fit to retake her spot. She’d scored seven goals that match, and the Holyhead Harpies earned their first win of the season. It hadn’t stopped the League or the Harpies’ brass trying to get her to agree to publicity for the team, but they had stopped threatening to bench her. Of course, Harry had still come to her matches even when she was a reserve, but he’d worn his Invisibility Cloak in the stands. She’d wanted him to still wear it for the match where she was reinstated, but he’d made a point by publicly cheering her on but refusing to make any comments to the press. “I don’t think they’ll dare to ever bench you again,” Harry said, laughing. “It wasn’t your teammates’ faults, though. They really rallied behind you.” “They did,” Ginny conceded. “They’re all coming tonight, except Ruth Geller. She hasn’t spoken to me since I took my place back.” “D’you think she’s going to be traded? Quidditch Illustrated seems to think so,” Harry said. “I read an article hinting at it last week.” Ginny shrugged. “I can’t see any teams lining up to sign her after that wretched performance in the last match. The Chudley Cannons might, I suppose,” Ginny said, quite pleased she’d managed to keep her gloating to a minimum. “Ron’ll suddenly become a fan,” Harry said, chuckling. Ron had been one of Ruth’s biggest detractors when she’d been assigned to Ginny’s spot. “He’ll somehow find a way to justify it, even in his own warped sense of Quidditch justice,” Ginny said, laughing. “Oi, Harry! Are you ready yet? We were supposed to be at Bill’s ten minutes go,” Ron said, interrupting them by loudly pounding on their bedroom door. “Speak of the devil,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Why are you meeting at Bill’s? What’s he got to do with this?” Ginny asked, remaining encircled in Harry’s arms but shouting through the door. “Never you mind. Don’t you have your own plans to be getting on with?’ Ron asked smugly. “Come on, Harry. Unhook your lead and let’s go.” “Unhook his lead?” Ginny asked, spluttering. “How do you know he’s not the one keeping me here?” “Because he’s not the one who’s been complaining non-stop for days about not knowing where you’re going,” Ron said. “Padma and Parvati are here, by the way. They’re all waiting for you.” Harry met Ginny’s eyes in the mirror in front of them, raising his eyebrows. “I think it’s time we say good night. You’ll have fun as soon as I’m gone, anyway,” he said. “That’s not true,” she replied, twisting in his arms and tilting her head upwards so she was facing him. “Kiss me properly, then, so I don’t forget you whilst you’re gone.” Harry grinned, his green eyes twinkling brightly as he entwined his fingers in her hair, He leaned over her, clutching her to his chest, and her head fell back as she opened her lips to meet his. The kiss was heated and passionate. The stubble on Harry’s jaw caused her sensitive skin to tingle, but she didn’t care. He clutched her to him fiercely, making her breathless and dizzy. She clung to his shoulders to keep her balance. He had leaned her so far back that she could feel the ends of her hair brushing the dresser behind them. She stumbled slightly when he finally pulled back to release her, blinking at him dazedly, breathless. “I hope you’ll remember what you have to come home to now,” he said cockily, his eyes dilated as he stared at her hungrily. For once, Ginny was at a loss for words. She nodded mutely, lifting her hand to rub her swollen lips. Merlin, that boy could kiss. Harry grinned, kissing her forehead before turning and walking over to the door. She didn’t care what he said, he was definitely strutting. He pulled the door open just as Ron had raised his hand to knock again. Harry had to duck to miss Ron’s pounding knuckles. “Watch it,” Harry said. “It’s about time,” Ron said, peering at his best mate closely with a look of disgust. “Merlin’s balls, Harry, wipe the lipstick off your face, and let’s go.” Ginny giggled as Harry quickly swiped at his lips, turning to close the door. “Love you. Have fun,” he said. “Love you, too,” Ginny replied as the door closed. She turned back to the mirror to repair the damage to her very smudged lipstick, feeling the stubble burn on her still-tingling skin. Staring at her reflection, she decided she was ready, and there was no point in stalling. It was time to find out what her crazy friends and teammates had planned for the evening. She could hear loud voices coming from the sitting room as she descended the stairs, and could tell some of her friends had already started priming for their evening out. Someone had turned on the wireless, and a bottle of Firewhisky rested open on the coffee table. Padma and Parvati Patil sat on the sofa, Hermione between them, while Angelina, Fleur, Audrey and Luna were gathered around the wireless. “Luna!” Ginny said, smiling widely as she entered the room. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it.” Greetings were shared all around, and Parvati slipped a frilly white hat on Ginny’s head with the word BRIDE written in glaring pink letters. Ginny vowed to ditch it at the first opportunity. She felt quite pleased with her decision to limit the hen night to the witches whom she was closest to. Some of her Prewett cousins had been angling for an invite with a plethora of owls recently. She hadn’t seen most of them since Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and she suspected they were far more intrigued with who she was marrying rather than just the fact she was getting married. “Well, I’ve been so busy traipsing through the jungle in search of the forked-tongue jezebel lizard, I just thought I was a due a night out with the girls so I could get thoroughly pissed. I haven’t been properly pissed in ages,” Luna said, raising her glass of Firewhisky in the air as if to prove she was already making headway. “Er… brilliant,” Ginny said as Luna poured Ginny her own glass. “Where are Siobhan and Liz?” “They’re coming. I’ve left the Floo open for them and your teammates. Once everyone is here, we can go,” Hermione said. “Go where?” Ginny asked immediately. “You’ll see when we get there,” Angelina said, grinning wickedly. There was something about the expression on Angelina’s face that made the hair on Ginny’s neck stand on end. That couldn’t be good. Ginny looked around. While Fleur and Angelina were dressed comfortably, as Ginny had been instructed to do, the others were all rather dressed-up. It didn’t look as if they could all be going to the same place. Fleur, of course, managed to make track pants and a black, tunic-style top look chic and elegant. “Don’t worry so much about where we’re going,” Padma said, watching her. “Sit down, have a drink and catch up. I think you’re going to enjoy yourself if you just get out of your head.” Ginny sighed and sank down onto one of wing-backed arm-chairs. She slung her legs over one arm, and downed her Firewhisky in one go. “All right, then. I’m in,” she said, grinning at Padma’s surprised expression. “Excellent,” Parvati squealed, refilling Ginny’s glass. “Wait until you see your dress, Ginny. It’s coming along beautifully.” “Yeah, I — we were hoping you’d let us take a photograph of you wearing it once it’s done. You need to understand we want to use it for publicity, though. Are you all right with that?” Padma asked hesitantly, her shoulders tense. Ginny really didn’t have to think about it. She wanted to help her friends’ business succeed. “’Course you can, as long as it doesn’t appear until after the wedding. I don’t want anyone getting a sneak peek.” “Absolutely,” Parvati said, beaming, reaching around Hermione to squeeze her sister’s shoulder. “Hello, hello!” Demelza Robbins called, entering the room with Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet in tow. Ginny had played Quidditch with all of them at Hogwarts. She noticed that all of them were wearing extremely casual, sporty clothing. Katie and Alicia moved to stand by Angelina while Demelza sank into the other armchair next to Ginny’s. “We met up at the Leaky and decided to have a drink before coming over. I should’ve known that you’d all be doing the same here,” she said. Ginny poured her a Firewhisky. “How are things at Nimbus going?” she asked. Demelza had taken a job with the famous broom makers after Hogwarts, and she’d been travelling all over the Continent promoting their newest addition. “Things are great now that we could all get back to work. I was going spare being stuck in the house. My main source of contact was Zacharias Smith, who works in the Broomstick Regulation Office at the Ministry, and you all know how I feel about him,” Demelza said, scrunching up her face. “I didn’t know he was working at the Ministry,” Hermione said, eyes widening. “Although, I really don’t have much contact with that department.” “He’s still the biggest gossip you’ll ever find. I’ve heard all about your going toe-to-toe with Marietta Edgecombe, Ginny,” Demelza said. “He went on and on about it, and how upset Marietta was afterwards.” “Marietta Edgecombe? Wasn’t she the one who betrayed the DA to Umbitch?” Alicia asked, turning toward their conversation. “She’s the one,” Padma said sourly. “Not a prime, outstanding member of Ravenclaw House, if you ask me.” “What were you rowing with her about?” Alicia asked. “What else? Wedding plans. She’s in charge of organizing the Ministry gala,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “Oh, is that why the Prophet reported that you were storming around the Ministry like a raving Banshee Bride?” Parvati asked, giggling. “I am not a Banshee Bride. She just drives me spare,” Ginny said crossly. The Prophet had done a large spread highlighting Ginny’s tantrum at the Ministry, and how she was making unreasonable demands of all the employees. If it wasn’t for the fact that Marietta actually knew Ginny was cancelling plans rather than adding anything, she might’ve thought it was Marietta who leaked the story herself. Grudgingly, she had to admit it could’ve been anyone on the floor that day, however, as they’d had their go at one another right in the middle of the department. It would’ve been easy to get the details wrong that it was Ginny making additional demands. “Ha! Why am I not surprised someone would accuse you of being a Banshee Bride?” Siobhan asked, entering the room with Liz, both of whom had been Ginny’s roommates since her first year at Hogwarts. They’d had a rough start, what with Ginny being possessed and all, but they’d eventually moved past their mistrust and misgivings and become supportive friends. Losing their fourth roommate, and really the glue who’d linked them all, during the Battle had only strengthened their bond. After many squeals and greeting ensued, Siobhan nudged Ginny over and sat with her on the armchair. “So, what’s the real story behind the Banshee Bride article? I can’t imagine that our delicate little flower is making so many demands,” she asked, knocking Ginny’s shoulder with her own. “Yeah, some of the witches I work with at the apothecary were gossiping about it. They think being a celebrity has gone to your head,” Liz said, smirking. “Why is it always me?” Ginny asked, grumbling. “I haven’t seen any reports that Harry’s being a Banshee Bride supporter.” “Is he?” Siobhan asked. “I thought you said you weren’t a Banshee Bride.” “Shut it, Siobhan. You know what I mean. It’s always the bride they accuse of being unreasonable,” Ginny said crossly. “To be fair, I theenk you might’ve referred to me as a Banshee Bride at one time,” Fleur said smiling. Ginny felt her face going scarlet. “That’s not the point. I haven’t been making demands. I’ve actually been trying to get Marietta to tone things down,” she said. “The only demand actually came from Harry, and that was that no Death Eaters were allowed on the list.” “Oh, they didn’t try to invite Death Eaters?” Liz asked, aghast. Ginny nodded. “They did. Apparently, even the Quidditch Commissioner wants to attend my wedding.” “Oh, I did hear about that. My boss was quite put out you nixed that one,” Angelina said. “They had a whole meeting to discuss possible ways to change your minds.” Ginny was growing rapidly irritated. She more than pulled her weight scoring goals for the Harpies. She didn’t remember the Quidditch Commissioner demanding an invite to any other player’s wedding. “What are we waiting for? Are we going out, or is the hen party just to sit around and gossip about how bad a match the Prophet thinks I am for Harry?” she asked irritably. “That just proves they don’t know you,” Siobhan said, attempting to cheer her up. It didn’t work. “We’re waiting for your teammates to arrive. They’ve made some arrangements,” Angelina said, grinning. “What sort of arrangements?” Ginny asked warily. “You’ll see,” Angelina said, winking at Alicia. Ginny folded her arms across her chest, feeling decidedly less festive. Luna came over and refilled her drink. “Don’t worry, Ginny. Everyone knows Harry is completely besotted with you. I think some of the reporters might actually be jealous of that, so that’s why they like to point out imagined flaws in your relationship. I love you both, but even I sometimes get jealous of what you’ve found,” Luna said. This was one of those awkward things that Luna often said that made Ginny feel uncomfortable. She loved her friend for attempting to cheer her up, though, and she leaned over to hug her to show her support since she didn’t know what to say to that profound statement. “Harry just wants you to be happy,” Hermione said, smiling. “As long as he thinks you’re happy, he’ll put up with anything.” Before Ginny could say a thing, a loud thumping came from the stairway, along with a cacophony of female voices. Ginny knew before they entered that her team had arrived. They were notoriously noisy. Gwenog Jones, team captain and leader of the pack, led them all into the sitting room, sharing greetings and waves. It didn’t matter that Gwenog didn’t really know any of them. She was usually the most confident one in the room. Ginny made the introductions, and was pleased to see none of her friends wearing that dazed, star-struck expression some people usually had upon seeing the team. Beaters Willow and Gilda added a few bottles of Firewhisky to the collection and began pouring generous amounts into glasses for the rest of the team. All of them were dressed in black track suits, similar to the green ones they all usually wore in the training room. “All right,” she said loudly, causing the room to still and look toward her. “Now are you going to tell me what we’re doing this evening? Why are you all dressed the same? If we’re going to a pub, you’ll look ridiculous.” “Sit down and have another drink, Weasley,” Gwenog said easily. “You’re not in charge here, we are, but I think you’re going to like it. I have a Portkey to take us all there, but first, we need to change a few things.” She pulled several masks from her pocket, all of them black except one white one with sparkles around the edges. They were similar to the sort of thing one might wear to a masquerade party. “What on earth are those for?” Ginny asked. “This one matches your hat,” Gwenog said, smirking and handing Ginny the white one. She gave the rest out to the team. “Now, we have to do something about your hair. It’s too recognizable.” Apprehensive, Ginny watched warily as Gwenog pointed her wand and transformed Ginny’s hair to a much darker shade of red, nearly brown. “Why can’t we be recognized?” Ginny asked, although she had to admit the thought of going through the evening anonymously held great appeal. She’d appeared in the pages of the Daily Prophet far too often lately. “Trust me, it’s better this way. You all might want to make a few adjustments if you’re seen with Ginny a lot. We don’t want anyone to know who we all are,” Gwenog said. The hairs on the back of Ginny’s neck stood on end. “Er… we’re not doing anything illegal, are we?” she asked, envisioning spending her wedding night in Azkaban. “Let’s just say it’s better if it doesn’t leak out that the Holyhead Harpies were there, all right?” Gwenog said, smirking. Fleur transfigured her hair to a darker shade, and Hermione shortened hers considerably before they all gathered around an empty milk jug. Ginny hesitantly reached out a finger — in for a Knut, in for a Galleon — and felt the familiar tug behind her naval. Portkeys were Ginny’s least favorite method of travel, and she regretted the Firewhisky she’d consumed as soon as she was jostling through space, Luna on one side, Siobhan on the other. They appeared on a mossy glen just outside a wood. It was colder here than it had been in London, and their breath came out in puffs of vapor in the chilly air. “Oops, should’ve thought of warming charms. You’re all on your own for that,” Gwenog said cheerfully, looking around. The glen was very crowded and full of a carnival-like atmosphere. Jugglers and clowns walked amongst the crowd, who tossed Knuts into their empty hats as they performed. Vendors sold racing paraphernalia along with various sweets and snacks. It was like a hidden party with a sense of excitement and urgency in the air. “Hold on. I’ve been to something like this before. Are we at an illicit broom race?” Ginny asked, feeling the first real flicker of excitement she’d felt all evening. “Yes, we are,” Angelina squealed, linking her arm with Ginny’s “I remembered how much you enjoyed the last one. Once I spoke with a few of your teammates, they wanted in, and it all sort of came together.” “We can’t let anyone know who we really are, so that’s the reason for the masks. Don’t do anything to call attention to yourself — other than win, of course,” Gwenog said, as if that was expected. “Win? Do you mean we’re actually racing?” Ginny gasped, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. The one time she’d seen a race like this, she’d been fascinated with one witch in particular, and longed to try it herself. “Of course, we’re racing. Why else would we come?” Angelina asked, looking at Ginny as if she were daft. Of course, Ginny felt rather daft wearing the silly bride hat. She tried to surreptitiously remove it, but Luna caught her hand and instead, straightened the silly hat. “You’re joking,” Ginny said. It wasn’t like her captain to do anything to risk getting suspended, but she supposed the season was over for the winter now, anyway. “Obviously, none of us has ever done this before, so we’ll have to qualify for the big race at the end, but that shouldn’t be a problem,” Gwenog said, narrowing her eyes and looking at her team fiercely, as if daring them not to qualify. “Are we all racing?” Ginny asked, looking around at her other friends who weren’t on the team. “I’m not,” Hermione said at once. “That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy cheering you on, even though we’ll all be in so much trouble if we’re caught here.” “I am, and so are Katie, Alicia, and Demelza,” Angelina said. Ginny was unsurprised by any of those names. “Oh, and Fleur is racing,” Angelina added. Ginny stared at her beautiful sister-in-law in shock. “Fleur? But you don’t like flying,” she said, remembering how Fleur had chosen to ride a Thestral rather than a broom the night they’d all gone to rescue Harry from the Dursleys. She’d been so angry to be left out of that, too, but of course, she’d been underage at the time. Harry was, too, but they’d ignored her when she’d tried to point that out. “I don’t enjoy it, no, but I do love a competition, so I wouldn’t miss it,” Fleur said, putting her own mask on. “We all reckoned it would be a good idea to wear the masks so no one could put together that we’re all connected to you. Not that that’s likely, but you’ve been in the papers so much, we didn’t want to take any chances,” Angelina explained. “Besides, with you being identified as a bride by that hat, it’s obvious we’re all together and with you, so no one should suspect the team,” Gwenog said. Ginny privately thought that unlikely once they all flew so well, but she was too eager to race to lodge an objection. “All right, those of us racing, we need to check in at the starting point, which, from what I’ve been told, is just on the other side of the wood. There should be a path leading through it,” Angelina said. “We’ll meet the rest of you when it’s over. Try to stay in groups. Our return Portkey isn’t on a timer, so it’s whenever we’re ready,” Gwenog barked as if giving orders on a typical day at practice. Ginny and Hermione shared a grin. Hermione had heard all about Gwenog’s bossiness. Hermione squeezed her hand once, and Ginny followed the rest of the racers. They found a well-worn path through the wood, and soon had their names registered to fly. Willow handed Ginny her Firebolt. Ginny smiled gratefully. Naturally, she hadn’t thought of it since she hadn’t been aware of what she was going to do, but she would’ve regretted having to race on anything else but her own beloved Firebolt. “We thought of everything,” Willow said, beaming. Ginny was assigned number five-hundred eighty-eight, and she was scheduled to fly in the second race, along with Fleur and Katie Bell. Galinda Chen, the third Harpies’ Chaser, who’d also suffered the effects of the Spattergroit strain, was their only member racing in the first round. Galinda easily won her race, but Ginny was happy to get to observe one before doing it herself. She purposefully moved to the other end of the starting line, away from Katie and Fleur. She intended to compete, but she didn’t want to get too competitive against her friends. Best if she didn’t see their faces. She mounted her broom as instructed and gripped the handle. As soon as the whistle blew, the crowd noise, the wind, the nip in the air, all of it disappeared. Ginny lay flat against her broom, taking off like a spell. There was a slower racer beside her infringing slightly into her lane, but Ginny merely dropped her height, continuing to move forward. She imagined she could feel her toes hit the ground, but knew that realistically, she was still too high for that. She easily outstripped her competition, and was only vaguely aware of the racer beside her swearing at her maneuver. By the end of the early qualifying races, the only ones who’d been eliminated were Fleur, Katie and Alicia. Both Angelina and Demelza, along with all the Harpies, had qualified for the main event. Neither Katie nor Alicia had flown much recently, and Fleur had never enjoyed it. None of them seemed too disappointed by not making the final heat. As they were getting ready for the big race, Ginny once again tried to remove the hat identifying her as a bride. Willow stopped her this time, shaking her head. “Half the fun for us is seeing you wearing it,” she said, grinning. Ginny scowled, but left it in place. The announcer at the last race, which she’d won handily, had dubbed her ‘the bride,’ eliciting howls from her fellow racers and friends in the crowd. “All right, witches, wizards and race fans of all breeds, it’s time for our final match of the evening with a hefty prize pot of two hundred Galleons. We have some exciting new racers with us here this evening, including the best flying bridal party I’ve ever seen. Without further ado, riders, mount your brooms,” the announcer’s voice echoed over the crowd lining the wood. Ginny did so, leaning over to find her perfect grip. As she began tuning out all the other sounds and sights around her, she couldn’t help but notice a large, loud, female contingent on the sidelines, all wearing masks and already screaming their heads off. She could pick out Hermione in the center, and just knowing how little interest her friend had in anything to do with brooms filled her heart with fondness. Hermione was here for her, because this was what she enjoyed. Padma and Parvati, too — she didn’t think illicit broom racing was anything that would’ve caught their interest if it wasn’t for her. And there was Luna, not even looking at the race, but instead watching some invisible something flickering around the heads of crowd. She didn’t doubt for an instance that Luna would be able to recite exactly what happened during the race once it was completed, however. As the starting flag flew in the air, and Ginny felt the now even colder rush of wind through her disguised hair, she grinned at her friends and teammates. At any other hen night, the witches might automatically let the bride win. Her friends knew she’d never accept a win that was given rather than earned. She was so grateful to have these women in her life. They’d come through a war, trials and hardships, but the one thing that had remained strong and true was their friendship. Ginny hoped that would never change. When Harry and Ron finally arrived at Shell Cottage — late, of course; everyone else was there and awaiting them — all of the Weasley brothers along with Owen and several of Harry’s fellow Aurors, his department Quidditch team, as well as a few of his fellow classmates at Hogwarts. “Bloody hell, Harry. I thought you were going to miss your own do. How are you?” Oliver Wood asked, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand. “What took you so long?” Percy asked, scowling. “Do you have any idea the paperwork involved in arranging an International Portkey? If we’d missed it, the whole night would’ve been rubbish.” “International?” Harry asked, perplexed. “Of course. Ron told us you didn’t want any sort of scandal in the papers. No one will expect to see you outside of Britain,” Bill said, grinning. Harry looked at Ron, wide-eyed, and feeling as if he’d just miss-stepped into a very large hole. Ron handed him a pint. “We have everything under control,” he said, smirking. It didn’t make Harry feel any more secure about the evening’s plans. “Besides, it’s best to let them all start drinking before you do and get all mushy on us.” “Here you are, Harry! What took you so long?” Charlie asked, reaching out to shake his hand. Harry noticed he had several patches of healing skin on his forearms. “All right, listen up, you sods. The Portkey is scheduled to leave in ten more minutes. Grab a final pint, and gather round. If you miss it, you’re out of luck,” George bellowed. “Where are we going?” Harry asked warily. “Don’t worry about it. Bill arranged it all. He says it’s a place his father-in-law recommended. We’re going to a wizard-only area, but we have to get through a crowd of Muggles to do it. That’s why we all had to dress this way,” Ron said, tugging on the collar of his dark grey suit. Harry’s mind was racing. If Fleur’s father had recommended it, he assumed they were going to France. He was perplexed over what they’d find there that they couldn’t find in England — except perhaps warmer weather. As they all gathered around a large and dented old bicycle tire, Ron made certain Harry had grabbed hold. Bill nodded at everyone. “All right, it should go in five… four… three… two…” The jerk behind his naval came a second before he was expecting it, and several moments later, he was blinking hard and adjusting his glasses to take a good look around. It was definitely warmer than it had been in London, but still crisp and chilly. He looked up at a magnificent palace rising high above the ground, its turrets outlined with fairy lights. Although still early in December, superb fir trees were lit and festively decorated with lights and imitation snow along gleaming pools of water. The lights reflected off the water making it appear rather magical. Harry could faintly smell salt in the air, although he couldn’t tell how close they were to the sea. “Where are we?” he asked, gazing up at the striking castle in front of them. There was a clock set in the center turret. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Bill asked, grinning. “Welcome to the Monte Carlo Casino, haven for hedonistic high rollers. There are a number of small, private areas inside the main casino, and one such area is accessible only to wizards. That’s where we’re headed.” As Bill began to lead the way, Harry rapidly kept swiveling his head, trying to take everything in. “Nice here, innit?” Ron asked, keeping up with him. “We’re right on the Mediterranean Sea. A bit posh, but it should be fun, yeah?” Harry could hear the uncertainty in Ron’s voice, and see the anxiousness behind his mate’s eyes. It had been Ron’s job to arrange the stag night, and he was obviously eager for Harry to be pleased. “It’s brilliant,” Harry said at once. “I’ve never bet in a real casino before. Should be fun.” Ron’s entire being relaxed. “Yeah, it’ll be great. Wow,” he said, goggling as a very scantily clad woman hurried past them. “Maybe we can come back here for my eventual stag night.” Harry grinned, pleased to hear Ron mentioning the possibility without any trace of his former stuttering. He already knew what he wanted to plan for Ron’s stag night, had known it for ages. He planned to rent out a box at a Cannon’s match, and everyone who came with them would be required to dress and cheer for the Cannons. George and Oliver came up beside them, frog-marching Percy. Lee Jordan and Ken Towler, another Auror and old roommate of George’s, followed along chuckling. “Come on, Perce. We’re going to get you good and properly pissed tonight,” Oliver said, gleeful. “Yeah, it’s time you let loose now that you’re out without the ole ball and chain,” George said. “Audrey is not a ball and chain, and I resent the implication,” Percy said haughtily. “You’re still getting pissed,” Oliver replied as they hurried their pace. “No excuses allowed.” Harry snorted. “And here I thought I was the one everyone was going to try and get pissed tonight,” he said, laughing. Ron rolled his eyes. “Harry, everyone here is aware how easy it is to get you pissed, and then you get entirely too soppy, anyway.” “I don’t get that soppy,” Harry said, disgruntled. “Do so,” Ron said easily. “Besides, we thought you’d be happier doing something you’d never done before.” “I am,” Harry said, grinning. Truth be told, he hadn’t considered his stag night more than an occasion to go out and drink with his mates. This was far more impressive, and he was looking forward to reaching the magical area. He wondered if wizards played the same sort of gambling games as Muggles did — not that he’d ever done any of those, either. The occasional hand of poker was about the extent of his experience. The entrance hall had been impressive with its massive columns and cathedral ceiling, but upon entering the open gaming hall, Harry was at a loss at where to look first. Billiard tables and roulette wheels lined the outside with tables of many card games filling the floor, all covered by a massive green carpet. Waitresses brought drinks to the high rollers on winning streaks, while the sounds of clinking chips and slot machines filled the air. It was packed with Muggles in fancy dress. Many of the men wore tuxedos rather than suits, and even in his expensive apparel, Harry felt underdressed. Bill led the way to a side room that led to a marble stairway. After climbing a few flights, they came to several, smaller gaming rooms hosting private parties. A small, unobtrusive area of wall was covered with a rich, Oriental carpet. As Bill reached it, it shimmered slightly and allowed them to lift it away from the wall. A small, dark passageway emerged into a spectacular marble room with glistening crystals hanging from chandeliers. Some of the guests here still wore their Muggle attire, while others had transfigured theirs back into traditional robes. Harry could hear a smattering of languages being spoken, although mainly French. He watched as a wizard used his wand to tap a roulette wheel. As the wheel began to spin, he noticed it contained a small fairy rather than a ball. It fluttered its wings, eyes watching the wheel before settling on a number on which to sit. Smiling heartily, the wizard collected his stack of winnings. “How can they be sure that’s just luck, though?” Ron asked, watching the same game. “Maybe the fairy just likes him. What if you get a grumpy one that purposefully makes you lose all your gold?” he asked. “Dunno. We’ll have to try it and see,” Harry replied eagerly, never before imagining he’d find the need to charm a fairy. There were various card games and people throwing magical dice that spun in the air before falling onto the numbered tables below. “All right, gather ‘round,” Bill said, herding their group to one side. “Our Portkey takes us back to Shell Cottage at two in the morning, so I want everyone to meet down in the entrance hall at half one, understood? Until then, you’re all on your own. Don’t forget to buy Harry a drink.” “Here, here!” Seamus said, thrusting a glass into Harry’s hand. “Come this way, mate, and I’ll give you a tour. I came here once on a business trip.” “Business?” Dean asked, pulling a face. “What kind of business were you doing in a casino?” “Did you forget that I work for Ogden’s? We supply them with Firewhisky. Lucrative contract, too.” “I want to take a tour, too,” Neville said. “I’ve never been to a casino, either. My gran was never interested.” Percy looked as if he was going to join them for the tour, but George and Oliver pulled him away toward the bar. Harry saw Owen and a few of the other Aurors begin to mingle into the card tables, while Bill and Charlie moved over to the roulette wheel. They were surprised to realize Seamus actually had been there before as he knew many of the hidden gems of what to play and where things were. Harry ended up having a very enjoyable evening trying his luck at many of the tables. He’d discovered he was neither very lucky nor a very good gambler, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. When it became too stuffy inside, he decided to duck out onto a terrace that Seamus had shown them. Ron, who was having luck at one of the Craps tables, waved him off. Once outside, he breathed deeply, inhaling the wonderful sea air. He could definitely hear the rolling waves from up here. He spotted Charlie, Owen and Hans Rickman, another Auror and fellow member of Harry’s interdepartmental Quidditch team tucked in a corner having a smoke. “Oi, Potter! Why is your hand empty? We have a rule that we don’t let you go without a drink tonight. I’ll go get some refills,” Hans said, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he approached them. “It’s really not necessary. I just put my glass down,” Harry said waving him off. “Nonsense. You’re still entirely too sober for your stag night,” Hans said without slowing his pace. In truth, Harry was feeling much warmer than the chilly air indicated he should, and his head was buzzing pleasantly. Maybe that’s why he’d had such a hard time concentrating on the card game. “Having a good night?” Charlie asked, grinning. His eyes were very blood shot, and Harry knew Charlie had imbibed far more than Harry had. “Yeah, I am. This place is amazing,” Harry said, grinning. “Bill told me that they had small gaming parlors in Egypt that he used to go to with his cure-breaking mates, but nothing as extravagant as this. We’re lucky if we can find a deck of cards in Romania,” Charlie said, swaying slightly. “Yeah, but you’ve got dragons,” Harry said wryly. Charlie shrugged, “Aye, we do have those. Hey, did you see my new burn scars?” he asked, displaying the healing skin on his forearms. “We took in a Peruvian Vipertooth last month, and the tosser just doesn’t like me. He can detect when I’m approaching the paddock, even within a group, the blighter.” “That’s because you smell,” Owen said. He was swaying as much as Charlie, if not more, and clutching the railing of the terrace. Charlie nodded. “Yeah, but I live amongst the other draconologists, and we all share the same space, even the same protective gear. It’s odd that this one can always mark me,” he said, not taking Owen’s claim as an insult in the slightest. “Here you are,” Hans said, returning with several drinks. He shoved one brimming with Firewhisky into Harry’s hand. George, Oliver and Lee Jordan had followed Hans out onto the terrace. Lee’s pockets were jingling with the sound of gold. “Had a good night, did you?” Harry asked, grinning. “What have you done with Percy?” “We managed to get him pissed all right, only now he’s in the toilet puking. Bill’s with him,” George said, disgusted. “We didn’t get to take him out for his own stag night with the ruddy contagion and all, so we reckoned it was only right,” Oliver replied. Harry took a sip of his drink to avoid having to answer. He’d discovered this was how most people thought of the contagion, as some sort of past annoyance. They’d grumble a bit about their confinement, or what they’d missed, or what they couldn’t do, but then they’d move on to the present and their desire to make up for lost time. Harry couldn’t see it that way. The contagion had been so much more real and terrifying for him. It had nearly taken not only the most important people in his life, but the future he’d been so carefully building. It made him realize more clearly than any Auror mission or danger to himself ever could, that nothing was ever certain. He needed to grab onto happiness while it was there, to jump in feet first and take the happiness when it was offered. He’d also learned to never take the important people in his life for granted. “There you are,” Ron said, joining them out on the terrace and scowling at Harry. “I hate when you just disappear like that, mate.” Rather than being annoyed — Ron’s need to behave like a mother duck always strengthened when he’d been drinking — Harry felt an upsurge of affection. He wrapped his arm around Ron’s shoulders. “I’ll never go far. I love spending time with all of you,” he said happily. Ron groaned while the others laughed. “Now, we’ve done it. He’s pissed.” “Our mission tonight was a success,” George said, raising his glass in a toast. Harry clinked his glass right along with the rest of them. |
| Reviews 210 |
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