Brewing Perfection

written by: albe-chan

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction and I do NOT own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned, I am making no money from this, and any similarities with real life are purely coincidental. This work will contain MATURE THEMES, such as coarse language, mature subject matter (scenes containing graphic sex, kinky sex and mild BDSM themes, nudity, etc.), and/or violence. Please, if you are not over the age of 18, or of majority in your country, DO NOT READ THIS! You have been warned!

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Lily Potter smoothed the pencil skirt of her navy blue suit and swallowed, her face remaining impassive and coolly collected, even as the dark red haired, hazel eyed witch started definitely freaking out on the inside. What the hell am I doing here!? Sure, she'd sent her application in, along with probably dozens of other witches, for the position for which she was now interviewing for, but Lily had never really expected anything to come of it. She'd been all but certain she'd be too young, too inexperienced, and far too unqualified for the position, but here she was. Sitting in a very nice and quite comfortable chair, in a sleekly modern reception area, wearing her best Muggle suit under her lightweight, cream coloured robes she'd only ever worn once before, waiting to be called in for her interview.

There'd been nine other witches, of all ages, who'd been selected for interviews, and all but two others aside from Lily had already gone into the office beyond, only to be sent out at some point. Lily tried not to read into the fact three of them had been crying, because she could only imagine she'd end up as one of them, crying bitter tears of rejection. She had accepted it would probably happen and smoothed her pencil skirt again, even as the seventh girl, a rather pretty blonde with a low cut blouse and ample cleavage, came out, mascara running with her tears.

Lily couldn't help it, and gulped, half praying she wouldn't be the next lamb to the slaughter. The secretary, a beady eyed old crone, got up from her desk, went in, and came back out swiftly, looking more sour than ever. The redheaded witch felt her heart beating in her throat, and suddenly wished she hadn't even applied for the stupid position. It was bound to be low paying, and even if it would be a fucking dream come true, there was no sense going in there and having one of the best potioneers of the last decade, the wizard who'd invented both the Fecundity Potion and the Morning After Potion himself, laugh at her. "Miss Potter," the secretary barked, and Lily stood up abruptly and too fast. Her heart was pounding, stomach sick with anxiety, but she smiled politely, forced herself to be calm and poised, and walked forward smoothly. Even though she gulped as she turned toward the door, and went in, feeling like she was walking into danger.

"Close the door behind you," said the man sitting in the chair behind the desk as she crossed the threshold, and Lily felt her hand tremble the slightest bit as she closed the door softly and sucked in a deep breath, praying for courage that had never been her strong suit. And with her heart pounding and stomach sinking, she turned to face Blaise Zabini.

He stared levelly at her for a beat, and Lily stood there, staring back, mouth parted a little, because she'd seen pictures of Blaise Zabini, the wizard who'd created half a dozen top selling potions, and the man voted Sexiest Male Potioneer Alive for the last three years in a row by Potions Today magazine. On top of being Most Eligible Bachelor by Witch Weekly for the last five. But they didn't do the wizard a lick of justice, she reckoned. Because seeing him in the flesh, she couldn't ignore that he had a very dominating presence, like he was used to being in control, and an utterly masculine air that made something she'd always repressed deep down inside nudge awake.

Her heart started beating double time when the older wizard smiled crookedly at her, and waved her casually into the seat before his desk. "I was going to ask if you're related to Harry Potter, but it seems utterly obvious that you are," Zabini said, then sat forward, amused half smile fading.

Lily, who had grit her teeth a little bit at the mention of her very famous father, smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zabini," she said honestly. "I'm a fan of your work," she admitted, blushing the tiniest bit.

Zabini's dark brown eyes narrowed, full mouth turning down ever so slightly, even as a cool brow lifted. "I should warn you, Miss Potter, that if you're here because you're a fan, I can promise you won't get this position. Despite who your father is."

Lily licked her lips. "Duly noted, Mr. Zabini," she said with as much respect and backbone as possible. "I'm here because I think you'd be a benefit to my own potioneering career. You're the best, and I want to be the best."

Zabini sat back again at that, the corners of his mouth hinting at amusement again. "I'm sure you understand that, despite being a paid assistant, you will not be privy to the key elements of the projects I'm working on."

Lily felt her hopes crumble a tiny bit, because she'd been hoping, should she be seriously considered, that her position as Zabini's assistant would mean he'd be like a mentor. "Of course," she said instead, smiling politely. "And just for the record, if I do happen to be selected to be your assistant, I'm not going to share any of my private experiments with you, either. Even should you teach me everything you know."

Zabini smiled fleetingly, and then leaned forward, looking at her closely. Lily felt her breathing hitch a little at the intensity of his gaze, his dark eyes roving down her and then slowly back up. "How many languages do you speak?" he asked.

What the-? "Two. English and French," she said, glad her Aunt Fleur and eldest cousin Victoire had taught her French when she'd lived in France with Victoire for a year. "But I can read and write fluently in Latin as well."

Zabini cocked his head, as if considering her, and she felt like a selection of jellied newt eggs being examined for freshness. "You have all the necessary education," he said, glancing at a parchment, what she assumed was her application. "Barely," he added in an undertone, as if to himself. "But almost no experience." He looked up at her again sharply, catching her frowning before she modified her expression. "How old are you, Miss Potter?"

"Old enough," she said firmly. Zabini smirked.

"Which is?" he pushed, lifting that dark brow again, looking amused by her.

"Twenty one," she said grudgingly, sure he was about to laugh at her.

Instead Zabini looked at another sheet of parchment, looking thoughtful and humming softly in thought. "And are you currently involved in a romantic relationship?" he asked at last.

Lily felt her mouth drop open gormlessly in shock, dark red brows arching high in surprise. "That is so not any of your business, nor does it pertain to my ability to work for you, Mr. Zabini!" she snapped.

And then Blaise Zabini, just like she'd told herself he would, laughed at her. And Lily's mouth snapped shut with a click, face going red with chagrin, but she didn't bother to modify her scowl. "Merlin, Potter, you are so obviously your mother's daughter it's almost unnerving." The redhead couldn't tell if that was meant to be a compliment or not, although many a time, people had said she was her mother's clone, and not just in looks. "I ask only because, should I be inclined to take you on, you'd often be out of the country with me, compiling research notes. And I've little desire to be bombarded with Howlers should your boyfriends not like that."

Lily frowned, because she didn't like the implication she had a string of random wizards at her beck and call, and because she actually didn't have any wizard at the moment. Nor had she ever, really. But she could see where Zabini was coming from, she supposed. He was a smart, wealthy, pureblooded, and utterly handsome wizard, and if the gossip columns of The Daily Prophet were to be believed, he was an excellent lover to boot. He'd probably had his share of jealous boyfriends with whatever witches he might've worked with along his career.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Lily said coolly, trying to maintain her dignified facade.

"Hmm," Zabini said again, and once again, his dark eyes roved over her form appraisingly, only this time Lily felt a slow heat prickling along her flesh wherever his dark brown eyes landed. "Very well, Potter. Complete this aptitude test," he said, waving his wand lazily and making a thin stack of parchments appear at his elbow, "and have it turned in by the end of the day. You may go."

Lily stood up, heart still pounding, even though it was from excitement as opposed to nerves this time. "Okay," she said, taking the parchments he passed, smiling genuinely for the first time, a proper grin, her hazel eyes shining with burgeoning excitement. "Thank you," she breathed.

Zabini lifted a brow. "You are most welcome, Miss Potter. And if you should lie on any part of that test, or cheat in some other way, I'm positive I shall find out. And I can assure you, you won't have a future as a potioneer, good or bad, should that occur."

Lily nodded, then all but ran out of the office, trying and failing not to smile, as she felt, for the first time probably ever, a sense of innate rightness in her choice to apply to be Blaise Zabini's research and potioneering assistant. She would fill out the aptitude test at home, even as she beamed at the crusty old secretary and breezed out of the modern office space of Zabini Industry's headquarters.

Zabini sat back in his seat, even as Drusilla Desmoins, his longtime secretary and the most efficient witch he'd ever met, poked her head in. "Shall I send-?" she asked, not smiling.

"No," Blaise said, waving her away. "Tell the others to go home, Drusilla. I've found the one I want." As his secretary went out, looking grim, Blaise turned away from his desk to look out the window behind it, standing to view the street and entrance below, unable to banish the image of Lily Potter from his mind.

She was precisely the sort of research assistant he'd hoped for. Young, pretty, talented but inexperienced enough to not be cocky, and able to read Latin. She'd fit into the role he needed perfectly, of that there was no doubt. But as he saw her flaming tresses below, darting out from under the little awning on the front stoop into the light drizzle that had been falling all day, Blaise Zabini couldn't help but think that was almost a shame. Because she was also the embodiment of 'his type' of witch romantically speaking. Sexy, opinionated, and ballsy enough to snap at him when he was interviewing her for a job.

Then again, he mused, smirking a little, she was also the daughter of Ginny Weasley, and apparently just as bull headed and stubborn and passionate as he recalled her mother being from the odd time he'd crossed paths with her at Hogwarts. With all that lovely red hair and porcelain skin to boot. His smirk widened, because he didn't doubt, should he try to mix his business and pleasure with Lily Potter, he'd either be the luckiest bastard alive, or they'd never find his body. No, he could handle simply having her as his assistant, even if he was more than tempted to seduce her if only to find out if the female Weasley temper translated into a wildcat between the sheets once and for all.

Lily couldn't wait to get home to write letters to her family, and friends, and tried to contain her excitement. You don't have the job yet. It was a sobering reminder. She still had to pass the aptitude test, but when she Apparated to her flat, Lily couldn't help but go to her couch, Conjure her writing supplies, and start the letter to her brother Albus.

Albus, to everyone's shock and surprise, had been Sorted into Slytherin when he went to Hogwarts, and to everyone's complete uproar, became best friends with none other than Scorpius Malfoy. Twelve years later, Lily's brother had become more than friends with Scorpius Malfoy, who'd secretly broken Lily's heart when he came out with Albus, but the redhead was now thoroughly happy her brother had found his soulmate or whatever. The pair certainly seemed that way, at least, even if Albus owled her weekly about their 'dysfunctional drama'.

Lily, when she attended Hogwarts, was Sorted into Ravenclaw. She'd been shocked, and a little horrified, because she'd been assuming she'd be in Gryffindor, like her eldest brother James, or at least Slytherin, like Albus, but then she'd gone and been Sorted into Ravenclaw. And for two weeks, she'd thought it a horrible mistake until she got her first Potions assignment back. It was perfect, apparently, and Lily, who'd privately thought the lesson easy compared to her Intermediate Level Potion Making Kit at home, was shocked. When her Charms and Transfiguration homework also came back with top grades, the redhead realized she might just be smart and knowledgeable after all. And from there, Lily had set her sights on winning as many awards for scholastic achievement as possible, to the exclusion of mostly everything else her entire Hogwarts career. Sure, she still had friends, and joined a couple clubs here and there, but nine times out of ten, if given the choice, Lily would've prefered the Library to a Quidditch match, and could be found most nights, working in the common room by the fire, ignoring everyone studiously.

After graduation, where she was in the top two students of her year, when she realized she had almost no life skills, Lily had gone to France for a year, but had come home to the same problem. So she got a waitress job, too embarrassed to live with her parents at the sophisticated and mature age of nineteen, and for two years, had worked evenings and weekends at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade to keep her humble flat and food in her fridge, while spending her days brewing Potions, learning Latin and keeping her French as sharp as possible, and thinking up wild potioneering experiments that usually didn't blow up when she attempted brewing them. Unfortunately, none of them precisely worked either. And so when Lily had seen the ad for Zabini's lab, requesting a research and potioneering assistant, she'd jumped at the chance to get something real, that paid, in her preferred field, that came with the added bonus of being the assistant to the best potioneer this side of the Atlantic.

Plus it's Blaise fucking Zabini, and he's sexy. Lily blushed a tiny bit, but shook her head. Despite what her libido thought, she was so not interested in a guy the same age as her father. And even if she were, in a strictly animalistic way, she wasn't naive enough to think he'd ever want anything to do with little old her. She was undoubtedly too young, and mostly still a virgin, and there was no way, when he could pick from way more attractive and experienced witches than her, she'd ever have a chance.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Lily decided to start on the aptitude test, but wrote out a preliminary version on a separate sheet of parchment. Lily, being studious, and a formidable witch and potioneer despite her age, would analyze her initial responses, and then perhaps hone a few should she feel it necessary. By the time four o'clock rolled around the redhead had finished her test, and Apparated to Zabini's research lab to drop it off. His surly, aged secretary was still there when she appeared in the reception area, and Lily handed the tightly scrolled parchment to her directly.

"You won't last until the end of the week," the old crone whispered cryptically as soon as the redhead had turned her back, but she feigned deafness and swooped out of the building, heading to her job at the Broomsticks.

The next morning, Lily got up early, against her will, to the insistent tapping of an owl at the window. She groaned, because she'd been up late, and she was exhausted after a busy Friday evening at work, and the last thing she wanted was cheerful sunshine stabbing her in the retinas while she fumbled her post from an indignant owl, who nipped her with menace before flying off again. Lily cursed the damn bird, and yawned as she glanced vaguely at her mail. And then she almost choked.

It was written in a bold, masculine, and flawlessly neat hand, addressed to her, and bearing the return address of none other than Blaise Zabini's Potions Facilities. Her heart started beating far too fast, and her hands trembled as she carefully unsealed the letter within. It was written in the same hand that had addressed it, and Lily felt herself nearing the edge of hysteria as she read.

Lily Potter,

Congratulations, you've been selected for the position of my research and potioneering assistant. Despite your lack of real, first hand experience in the field, I believe you will be undoubtedly the best candidate to work for me, and as you yourself said, if you wish to be the best, learn from the best.

Present yourself at my office on Monday morning, eight o'clock sharp, to sign your Magical Employment contract, and ensure you've packed clothes and the like for two weeks. Mushroom season is peaking in Vienna, and you're going to get a chance to prove yourself, Miss Potter. If that isn't amenable to you, don't bother turning up at all, because if you aren't cut out for this life, it's best to find out first thing.

Best regards,

Blaise Zabini

Lily fought down her nerves and excitement, trying to remain rational and calm, even as she trembled, unable to squash the huge grin on her face. She was going to Vienna, for a fortnight, with Blaise fucking Zabini, Sexiest Male Potioneer and Most Eligible Bachelor, to go mushroom hunting. And he would teach her how to be a world class potioneer. Maybe.

The redheaded witch could resist no longer, and jumped out of bed, whooping in pure joy, and laughing loudly. "I knew all my hard work would pay off!" she said to herself, and then read the letter again, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, or dreaming, and she was actually the luckiest fucking witch in the world. She laughed some more after finishing the letter a second time, then got up, in a bulletproof happy mood.

And all that day, as Lily wrote letters, and finished others, to announce that she'd gotten her dream job, and went out to get some things she was sure she'd need hiking for mushrooms, and stocking up on her Potions ingredients, she couldn't seem to stop smiling. She went to her parents' house for dinner, after her mother had sent her an owl insisting on a family dinner to celebrate, to which Lily agreed, because it would be better than sitting home alone, second guessing herself entirely. When she saw that both of her brothers, and Scorpius, had decided to show up as well, already seated at the table with her dad, and they looked suspiciously not happy for her, Lily wasn't sure staying home had been a bad option.

"Oh Lily, honey, you're here!" her mother said, getting up from where she'd been seated as well, and the redhead felt a thrill of suspicion again, and the distinct impression they'd all just been talking about her and her recent employment upgrade. And Lily couldn't help but think it was bad, as her mother hugged her close.

"Hi, Mum," she said stiffly, and hugged her mother briefly before pulling away. "What's going on? I'm not late, am I?" she asked pointedly.

"Oh no, honey, no, dinner's still in the oven. We were just-"

"Having a nice family chat," Harry Potter said, looking at Lily levelly, green eyes vibrant as ever and giving nothing away. "Come join us, Lily."

The redhead's mouth thinned a little, but she said, "Sure," politely and went and sat in her usual place at the table. "So what are we talking about?" she asked, although she had a damn good idea already.

"Lily, we love you," Albus said, because she glared at him especially hard, knowing he'd be most likely to tell her the truth, "and we want your dreams to come true, honestly, but you can't work for Blaise Zabini."

The redheaded witch nodded. "Alright. Why don't you think so, when he owled me personally to say he'd specifically chosen me for the job, because I was the best candidate?"

Harry Potter, looking especially surly at that comment, snorted, while her brother James said tersely, "Because he's only interested in one thing, Lily."

Both of Lily's dark red eyebrows shot up. "I hope the follow up to that statement is that you mean my brain," she said in a low, dangerous voice, already easing her wand out of her jeans pocket under the table.

"James," her mother said sternly. "That is nothing but rumours," she said firmly. "I, for one, couldn't be more pleased for you, honey," she said, hugging Lily again, and the younger redheaded witch hugged back this time.

"Thanks, Mum," she said, smiling. She'd known her mum would be proud despite apparently most of her family not approving, probably because they were deluded into thinking Blaise Zabini, of all wizards, was hiring her because he wanted in her knickers. Yeah fucking right! In my dreams, maybe.

Harry Potter still looked nettled, but when Lily met his gaze, intelligent hazel eyes questioning, looking for his approval, he crumbled despite his fears. "You really want to do this?" he asked. Lily nodded.

"He's the best," she said logically. "In the field I want to be in, right now, Blaise Zabini is the best in the country, if not all of Europe," she added with emphasis. "Why in the name of Merlin's pants would I turn down the opportunity to work with one of the best minds potioneering has ever seen?"

"But still, Zabini does have a long string of tabloid fodder relationships," Scorpius said, and Albus pouted at him. "And I've little doubt your name will be dragged through the mud with his, Lily."

The redhead frowned at that, because that was potentially true, and could certainly be a likelihood if she was working with Zabini. But then again, when nothing ever came of it, she was positive it would be old news sooner rather than later. "Unlikely," she said, even as she privately thought if she went away with him, even if only to pick mushrooms, there would be speculation. Which meant she had to keep that tidbit to herself.

"Well I support you, Lils," Albus said decisively, and smiled, even as his blond haired, grey eyed lover shot him an eye roll. "Even if certain others are going to be big old sticks in the mud. So when do you start?"

Lily smiled, because she knew now that Albus was okay with it, obviously trusting that even if, by some miracle, Blaise Zabini did want in her knickers, she'd obviously say no, Scorpius would follow soon after. "Thanks, Al," She said lightly. "I start Monday." She looked at her father, and said, "And I'm looking forward to it. You and Mum always told me to work for what I want. Well, now my work is paying off, and I want to enjoy it without everyone worrying about me."

Harry Potter smiled a little. "Alright, honey," she said, even though part of him definitely still felt rankled by a piece of overheard conversation too many years ago. "I'm glad your hard work is paying off, Lily, and I hope you learn lots from Zabini about your Potions stuff," he said.

"Thanks, Dad," Lily said, smiling.

"If only so you can quit and strike out on your own," James added, always quick on the heels of his father's overprotective streak for his younger sister.

The younger redhead rolled her eyes, shaking her head just as the elder said, after checking the oven, "Dinner's ready, everyone."

By the time Lily got home just before eight, she was exhausted, but went over her list of packing essentials, made note of what she was still missing after doing a thorough inventory, and got out her trusty overnight bag. It could fit a month's worth of shrunken down supplies and clothes, and she planned to leave herself unprepared for nothing come Monday morning. By midnight, Lily was done, after getting everything she could think she might need, and then some, into her overnight bag, and sighed as she crawled, at last, into bed, falling asleep the moment she closed her eyes.

Lily presented herself at the door to Blaise Zabini's office at five to eight, overnight bag on her shoulder, in her favourite black leggings and a cream coloured blouse under her warm, winter weight robes that she'd bought at the end of last winter when they'd been heavily discounted. She was wearing respectable ankle boots in deep eggplant leather, but had her hiking boots packed right near the top of her bag, just in case she'd need them first thing upon arriving in Austria. The redheaded witch took a deep breath, then knocked firmly on the door, glad she didn't see the secretary from her last visit present, because if the old crone said something, Lily wasn't sure she'd be able to hold her tongue.

"Enter," came Zabini's voice from within, and Lily turned the knob and let herself into the office, closing the door with soft care behind herself. "You're early, Miss Potter," Zabini said, not looking up from the parchment he was writing steadily on.

Lily licked her lips. "I figured the less time wasted signing documents the better," she said. "Last I checked, just before I Apparated here, it's raining steadily in the mountains around Vienna and expected to clear up within the hour, which means the mushrooms will be waiting."

Zabini lifted his brows a fraction as he scrawled his name at the bottom of whatever he was writing and sealed the letter into an envelope. He stood and carried his post to a waiting owl by his window, and Lily recognized the bird that had woken her the other morning. "Your dedication is admirable, Miss Potter," he said, and smirked a tiny bit at her. "Let us hope you'll be able to maintain that level of enthusiasm for the long haul," he said, and posted his letter, then lifted a black leather bag, roughly the same size as Lily's overnight bag, from beside his desk chair and came toward her. Lily swallowed, because it was obvious, as her hazel eyes took him in in his crisp white button down and well-tailored slacks, he was all male, and probably even more good looking naked than clothed.

"Let's hope so," she agreed, hating that her voice caught a little on the word hope, and that she sounded breathy and far too affected by his presence. Even if she kind of was.

"Now, to those boring documents that we must negotiate," he said with nonchalance, and waved his wand. They appeared on the desktop. "Your employment contract. It's fairly standard. You sign a binding clause that you won't share anything I might allow you to be privy to that could be construed as a company secret. I agree to pay you, you agree upon said payment, you sign a clause saying I have the right to terminate you at any point, even if you should be employed by me for an extended period of time, and you have the right to quit at any point, without affecting your severance pay."

Lily nodded as her future employer talked. It all seemed on the up and up as she flipped through it. "Okay," she said, and Zabini handed her another set of parchments.

"Your homework, Potter. These are my personal notes for the project I'm currently enamored with, which are enchanted for you to read, and which I am granting you on the explicit understanding you aren't to breathe a word of anything within them to anyone. Ever."

Lily's brow furrowed. "Of course," she said automatically. Zabini didn't hand them over, so Lily held her hand out, supposing he wished to make an Unbreakable Vow.

Instead he shook her hand as though she were an equal, and handed her the stack of parchments. "Feel free to peruse them at your leisure. Right now, we have a Portkey to catch." He held out his hand, and Lily licked her lips, swallowed past the excitement that had her smiling, and looked up into Blaise Zabini's dark brown eyes as she slid her hand into his.

The dark haired and dark eyed pureblood wizard stared at Lily Potter, eyes roving briefly down her tempting frame, swathed in her curve hugging pants and blouse, and then smirked, gripped her hand tightly, and Side Along Apparated her to the International Portkey Terminal, an abandoned warehouse not far from the Ministry entrance. Ten minutes later, Lily was taking a tin can to Vienna with her new boss, just as an owl delivered a letter addressed to Harry Potter, penned in Blaise Zabini's own hand.

Harry Potter,

It has probably come to your attention, or undoubtedly shall soon, that your daughter has accepted her position as my assistant, and as such, I can assure you, I have no desire to draw any negative press toward her. It would blemish my own reputation, you see. So rest assured, Potter, that I have no intentions of, as you so eloquently phrased it, 'taking advantage of your daughter's assets below the neck', publicly or privately.

If anything, I'd rather become acquainted with your lovely wife's below the neck assets. Somehow I doubt those Quidditch robes ever did her any justice, even if the International level uniforms were distinctly more fitted than, for example, when we were back at school.

Best regards,

B. Zabini

Harry stared at the parchment, feeling a mingled sense of relief, embarrassment, and righteous anger. Of course he'd known it, and Zabini had found Ginny attractive back at school! Hell, she was bloody gorgeous both inside and out, still was in fact, and a helluva a witch to boot. And every wizard who'd fancied her had probably seen her photos with the Holyhead Harpies and imagined her naked. Harry wasn't above admitting to himself he had, even when he'd been able to do more than fantasize about it.

But it still irked him to no end, because Lily was her mother's spitting image all right, except maybe her eyes and the depth of her red hair. And Harry wasn't stupid enough to believe because Zabini had thought his wife pretty in her youth, he'd undoubtedly think of Lily otherwise.

Vibrant emerald eyes scanned the parchment again, lighting on the words 'no intentions' and then 'publicly or privately'. He scowled, then destroyed the letter with a simple flick of his wrist and a muttered, "Incendio!" It would have to do. He smiled as he got up from his desk, hearing his wife in the kitchen, making breakfast and coffee for them, singing along to whatever was on the wireless and shook his head. How foolish he'd been! Of course Lily was her mother's little clone. His smile widened as he at last set eyes on Ginny, as she sang tunelessly and whipped up pancake batter, because he had a very good idea of precisely how Ginny, even at twenty one, would've reacted to a man she wasn't attracted to and old enough to be her father trying to seduce her. And that could only end poorly should Zabini be fool enough to try with Lily.

Ginny turned and looked at him, and Harry felt a sense of smug pride that Ginny, all those long years ago, had fallen for him, Harry Potter, of all people. Not someone like Zabini, even if he hadn't been a stuck up git. Oh yes, there was nothing at all to worry about. Because even if Zabini did try to take advantage of his daughter, she'd learned and inherited her mother's hexing skill and redheaded temper. "What's got you looking so pleased?" Ginny asked, brow furrowing. Harry only smiled wider.

"I was just thinking," he said, and his green eyes roved down her shape. Hell, even in her robe and faded pyjama pants some twenty five plus years later, Ginny was gorgeous. "You remember when you did that calendar for the Harpies?"

Ginny grinned, giggling a little, and blushing attractively. "Oh Merlin, Harry, please don't bring that up," she sighed. It had been the catalyst that had rekindled their romance after the Battle of Hogwarts, almost a year and a half later.

"I wonder how many wizards bought that calendar just for the July witch," he teased, even as he pulled her closer. Ginny grinned coyly.

"Lots. Probably to wank off thinking about her, I reckon," she shot back, and Harry blushed now, but grinned back. "Good thing too, in your case Mr. Potter."

"Great in my case, Mrs. Potter," Harry said, his fears about his one-time rival and daughter put to rest for the time being. Ginny pulled him down to kiss him, then broke away after a long moment.

"Am I pausing breakfast?" she asked, even as he pushed her robe off.

"Best make it lunch," Harry agreed, and brought her mouth back to his.

XXX