Three


Hestia Jones had spoken to Kingsley Shacklebolt exactly three times.

The first was at Hogwarts, when she was a first year and he was Head Boy and she was being bullied by some Slytherins twice her size.

"Knock it off," Kingsley had boomed in his deep voice, and the Slytherins had scampered, leaving Hestia behind to pick up her scattered notes. "Those gits," Kingsley had said as he bent to help her. "Slytherins, weren't they?"

She'd nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"I'll track them down and have a word," he promised, handing her a few pages of her Transfiguration notes. "Do they bother you often?"

She nodded again. "I'm a mudblood," she whispered. "I deserve it."

"No, you don't." He'd leaned down to put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't let them call you that. Don't let them make you believe that. Your blood is red, same as the rest of us. And they are no better than you."


The second time Hestia crossed paths with Kingsley was on her first day of Auror training, and neither recognized the other from Hogwarts.

"Jones, Hestia," he called in that deep voice. She stepped forward. "You'll be training under Auror Moody."

She walked toward Moody, whose magical eye was swirling fast enough to make her dizzy, and somehow managed to trip over nothing at all.

Kingsley caught her just before she hit the ground. "Careful," he said with a little smirk. "Can't have you out of commission before we even begin, eh?"

"Clumsy mudblood," someone whispered from behind her.

Kingsley turned, mouth open to tell off the Trainee, but Hestia already had her wand out.

"Incarcerus," she said, and roped shot out of her wand and bound the Trainee tightly. "My blood is red," she said coldly. "Same as the rest of you."

The room wet absolutely silent, save for the grunts of the bound Trainee.

It was Kingsley who broke the silence. "Moody, would you consider allowing Miss Jones to train under me, instead?"

Moody was grinning. "Not a chance, Shacklebolt. This one's all mine."


The third time Hestia spoke with Kingsley Shacklebolt was outside Grimmauld Place, just after the Advanced Guard had delivered Harry to his new safe house.

"What did you think of your first official field mission, Auror Jones?" he asked.

She grinned, because she'd worked four solid years for that title, and it was so good to hear it said aloud. "Brilliant, Auror Shacklebolt."

He waved his hand. "Please, call me Kingsley."

"Only if you'll continue to call me Auror," she said, and he smirked.

"You really are impressive," he said. "I've never seen anyone so determined, except maybe Moody. But you're a hell of a lot prettier than he is."

She laughed. "Are you going inside for the meeting?" she asked, shivering a little.

"Not tonight. Got to get back to the Ministry. Here." He shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "Night flights are terrible without one of these."

She smiled and pulled it around herself. "Thank you."

He licked his lips. "We've never really gotten to know each other, you and I, have we?"

She shook her head.

"I - d'you think you'd ever want to?"

She blinked. "You mean as Aurors?"

"I mean as friends." He licked his lips again. "Because I've had one eye on you ever since your first day, and you seem like the type of person I'd really like to get to know."

She shrugged. "There's not much to know," she admitted. "I'm muggleborn. I don't stand for people teasing me about it. And I have a brand-new leather jacket."

He laughed, and it made her stomach feel curiously warm. "That can't be everything about you."

"What do you want to know?"

He was still smiling. "What's your favourite drink?"

"Firewhiskey."

"And what would it take to convince you to let me buy you some?"

There were butterflies dancing within her. "A please."

"Please?" he repeated. "That's all? Are you sure? You have a rare opportunity to exploit me, here, Auror Jones. Don't waste it."

She smirked. "Please, and I get to keep this leather jacket."

"Done." He cleared his throat. "Auror Jones. Would you please come out with me for a firewhiskey?"

She bit down on her lip and smiled. "I'd like that."

(Hestia Jones had spoken to Kingsley Shacklebolt exactly three times.

And it was enough to make her love him.)


Reposted from May 23, 2014

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