Chapter Three
Mr, Potter, What a Big Quaffle you Have
The next morning, Harry came downstairs wiping the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand. Passing by the sitting room where he ands Susan spend spent a good portion of the evening in conversation. He remembered she had gone to sleep earlier than he, blaming fatigue from her escape. He remembered escorting her upstairs and making sure she was snug in her room for the evening.
Apparently she wasn't. Harry found her curled up, to the side, on the sitting room couch they had been occupying only hours earlier. The fire was still flickering, causing the room to be set in dancing colors of orange and yellows. Dobby had apparently popped in sometime and covered her in a light quilt, which she was grasping tight in her hand.
Susan's dark blonde hair had shifted, sometime through the night, to lie over her face in various strands. He followed the trail of her bare neck down her equally bare shoulder until the quilt blocked any further view leading Harry to imagine she was lacking any bedclothes for the evening.
He knelt by the couch and for some reason felt an overwhelming need to reach out and slowly brush the loose strands of hair away from her face. In doing so he prompted a reaction from the sleeping girl. Susan's face scrunched up and a hand popped out to rub her nose. Harry smirked to himself.
"Susan," he whispered as quietly as he could. Seeing no response he tickled her nose again with the few remaining strands he continued to hold. Her nose wrinkeled once more, but when her hand moved once again it wasn't to her nose but to his wrist in a firm hold.
Susan cleared her throat slightly and her eyes opened slowly revealing a color of blue Harry couldn't remember ever seeing . He was somewhat fascinated and failed to notice them narrow.
"Harry," she said in a low voice. "What are you doing?"
His eyes dropped to her colorless lips. "Um … tickling you?"
He kept his eyes on her lips and watched them turn up in a a very slight smile.
"And do you wake up all of your women like this, Harry?"
His eyes widened. "Erm… women?"
Her slight smile turned into a wry smirk. "Women, Harry. The fairer sex … the ones not guys."
She had moved in the slightest and kept starring at him when she knew she had finally flustered the great Harry Potter.
He backed away and surged up on his feet. "I know what women are."
Susan's smirk intensified as she tossed the quilt aside and sat up showing, in fact, that she was indeed wearing sleeping attire consisting of some very short shorts and a very tight spaghetti strapped top that clung to every curve of her nubile figure.
She stretched the evening away, throwing her head back and extending the long line down her body. Exposing her bare midriff and her seemingly endlessly smooth legs.
Harry felt the heat rise to his face and other portions of his anatomy react in familiar ways that he normally didn't feel the need to share with girls. With a quick retreat to the stairway he called over his shoulder, "Breakfast will be ready soon."
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The kitchen door opened with a refreshed Susan wearing a bit longer shorts and a much more looser version of her nightshirt as well as some strappy leather sandals.
"Something smells wonderful," she committed in rather good spirits.
Harry, having had time to recover his wits and some of his confidence replied rather casually. "That would be me … but the bacon doesn't smell too bad either."
Susan's eyes shined with levity as a abrupt spurt of laughter broke forth. Harry smiled to himself as he lifted the last strip of bacon to a large stack cooling to the side of the stovetop.
"How do you like your eggs?"
"However, it doesn't matter," she replied.
He shrugged and proceeded to crack sis eggs into a small bowl adding a dollop of cream, then he proceed to whisk them about before he poured them into a warming pan.
"Can I help?"
He looked around for a moment. "You can pour the pumpkin juice.
Susan nodded quickly and reached over to withdraw two glasses from the drying rack next to the sink.
"Oh, make it three. Dobby will be joining us."
The bewildered look that Harry was becoming accustomed to reappeared on Susan's face.
"You let your house-elf eat meals with you?"
Harry lifted the skillet and portioned off the eggs on three plates. "Dobby's not my house-elf; he's my friend," he said matter-of-factly.
Susan sat down at the table while Harry served. "You're an odd egg, Harry Potter."
"Dobby, breakfast is ready," Harry called out.
The aforementioned house-elf popped into his seat smiling happily. "Good morning. Harry Potter and Mistress Boneses."
"Morning, Dobby."
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"Thanks for letting me stay here last night, Harry," Susan said after she swallowed her last bite of bacon.
Harry nodded, "You're welcome as long as you'd like."
She looked away wistfully. "I suppose I should let the Ministry know what happened."
Harry noted her mood changing rapidly to a more somber tone. "I can make the arrangements if you want. I know a few Aurors that will treat you pretty good, or at least they won't treat you like a teenager."
She smiled in appreciation. "Do you think we could return to the estate sometime today? I'd like to see if anything's left."
Harry took her plate with his and stood, making his way to the sink. Turning the water on to rinse the plates he nodded. "You sure you're up for that?"
"No, but it has to be done."
Susan looked like she wanted to tell Harry something but held back at the last second.
"What?"
"Nothing," she replied.
Harry sat the plate he was scrubbing down in the sink and dried his hands on a towel. "Susan, I need you to know something about me."
He returned to his seat and watched as he held her attention. "I've had a number of people badger me with questions, always asking if I'm okay, you know?"
She nodded.
"Well, if I want to tell them then I will. Otherwise, I'd rather them leave me alone until I want to talk about it. So I won't do that with you. I'll ask once and if you want me to know then you'll tell me. If not … well, I'll leave it be."
Susan nodded, looking to the side.
"So, is there something you'd like to talk about?"
"I …," she started and stopped trying to compose what she wanted to say. "I'm the last Bones."
Harry held his hand out. "Welcome to the club. I'm the last Potter."
Susan's eyes became hard. "Don't be flippant about this, Harry. It's not good."
Realizing his words had hurt he pulled his hand back. "Sorry … I'm … well its just I've grown up that way.
Her eyes relaxed and she brought her hand up to her forehead. "I'd forgotten. You're half-blooded aren't you?"
"What difference does that make?"
Susan sighed and leaned forward crossing her arms on the table. "In pureblood families lineage is everything. Well not everything, but it's very important."
Harry nodded. "Family's everything, I understand."
"And now I'm alone."
The silence that fell after that statement was palpable. He knew what he should say. The problem was that Harry knew inviting her to be a part of his extended family was dangerous at the least, but he couldn't just leave her after he knew what it truly felt like to be isolated and wanting nothing more to be wanted.
"You can be in my family if you want."
Susan's eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock. A moment passed and then she shook her head and laughed to herself.
"What?" Harry asked, totally lost.
"Harry," she goggled sweetly." Whether you know it or not, in pureblood families… what you just said …"
She continued her giggling as Harry sat there clueless.
"What!" he said in exasperation.
Susan composed herself, her giggles becoming, at least, tolerable as Harry smiled in return at the unknown mistake he made.
"Harry, in pureblood families, what you just said would be considered a proposal of marriage."
His mind completely shut down, becoming non-functional to the point of comedy. Snape would have been proud.
"Clear your mind, Potter!" began to echo through his ears. "No problem, Professor. Maybe I can just ask Voldemort to marry me and it should stun him enough to make his brain shut down as well."
Slowly, awareness began to come back to him, along with the spark of an idea.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm not going to hold you to that," Susan clarified. "You obviously didn't know what you were saying."
It looked like he was starring over her shoulder at nothing in particular
"Harry, you've got a really weird look in your eye."
"Uh huh."
She gave him a look of skepticism. "My aunt used to say that look meant you were constipated. Are you constipated, Harry?"
"Uh huh … huh?" What?"
Susan smiled with satisfaction. "You were off tending to the Bowtruckles or something."
Harry thought about it and decided to go for all the Galleons. "Susan, are you dating anyone?"
Caught off guard for about the tenth time that morning she paused before answering. "Um … nooo," she replied wearily.
"Well, would you like to be a part of my fam …"
"Stop!" Her eyes bugged and she held up her hands to ward off the ending to Harry's repeated question.
"Harry now that you know what you are asking …"
He crossed his legs and relaxed as a smile crossed his face.
"I know what I am doing."
Susan shook her head once more. "We're both the last of our lines, Harry. By wizarding law if you ask me, I have to accept." She saw his confusion and continued. "It's to prevent the loss of the pure bloodlines."
Harry thought for a moment. "So you'd rather be married to Goyle or something?"
Make it shocked eleven times that morning.
"Goyle is not the last of his line," she said with confidence.
Harry raised his hand and ticked off each finger. "His dad's in Azkaban for life and all the rest of his relatives are dead. And by your own admission all he has to do is ask you and you'd have to say yes."
Twelve.
Harry changed his expression to a soft smile. "Look, Susan. I'm not asking this lightly. It could be to both of our advantages."
He could see the doubt on her face.
"You'd be safe and not at the mercy of the Goyle's of Hogwarts. Your bloodline will continue … eventually. I'm not out to jump you at the earliest opportunity. I'm not looking to run your life. You can do whatever you want."
The tension around Susan was building to a head. "I want to marry someone for love, Harry, not for convenience. And I'm sorry, but while I think you're cute, heroic, brave, talented, friendly, clever … I'm digging my own grave here, aren't I?"
Harry laughed with her self-observation. "I'm not saying let's get married tomorrow. I just thought …"
"What are you getting out of this?'
Harry thought about it for a moment. "I've always wanted a family, and I've always been afraid of the whole 'boy-who-lived' thing. You'd be perfect in that regard. I mean look -- you're already against the whole thing." He chuckled a bit in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"I've … I've got some things I need to do, Susan, and I don't want the distraction of half the girls at Hogwarts trying to corner me into every hall closet whenever I'm walking to class."
Think highly of yourself?" Susan countered with an unbelievable tone in her voice.
Harry rose and stepped to the correspondence desk near the only window in the room and opened the lower left hand drawer. Susan's curiosity was peaked as she watched him withdraw a magazine. He tossed it on the table in front of her and she took in the title. "Witch's Breath."
Witch's Breath was known for their rather risqué photo's of the male figure.
"That came out today. Ginny sent me a copy.
Her eyes dropped to the cover and it's monthly tag line.
Harry's the Hottest!
Thirteen!
Susan quickly thumbed through the pages until she reached the main article.
Warm up your broom sticks Hogwarts ladies! Harry Potter has reached our number one spot this month as the man most likely to take a witch's breath away!
Her eyes followed the movement of what was obviously a Quidditch photo with Harry catching the snitch and swooping up with his hair blown back and a striking grin across his face.
She turned the page and there was a collage of photos from the previous year depicting Harry in various sexy poses obviously candidly taken.
Harry has recently become one of the richest wizards in Great Britain making his Heavy Breathing factor jump seven points. However, what makes this witch lose control is on the next page …
Susan turned the page and gasped at a dripping Harry Potter fresh from the locker room shower. Only the naughtily bits were covered with a strategically floating Quaffle.
Before she could take a closer look, Harry snatched up the magazine and tossed it into the fireplace. She watched as the centerfold unraveled as Harry's image was taken by the flickering flames.
"Hey, I wanted to read the article!"
Harry skeptically raised an eyebrow.
