Thankfully, the goblins were skilled enough in non-magical healing that between their efforts and Shepard's cybernetically-accelerated healing factor, she was presentable the next day. She went down to the restaurant to indulge in a slightly later breakfast a little sore, but otherwise intact. However, as she entered the lobby she was quickly cornered by a familiar, yet unexpected teenager.
"Hermione?" Tink asked as the girl in question strolled up to her.
"Hello Tink," the teen greeted warmly.
"Not that I don't appreciate the company, but seriously, what the hell? How did you even know I lived here?" Tink asked. Before the teen could reply, Shepard's stomach growled out its need to be filled. Shepard held a hand up to stop Hermione talking and walked past her and into the restaurant, where the two were quickly seated. The hand stayed up until Tink had her first sip of tea, then she was ready to talk.
"Alright, now that I'm feeling more human, mind explaining what you're doing here at nine in the morning?" she asked, eyeing the clock on the wall for confirmation of the time.
"Harri gave me the address, and I wanted to talk to you about her party next week," Hermione replied.
"Oh, right," Shepard replied, feeling slightly sheepish. Since she'd been dealing with the goblins, she'd kind of forgotten about her promise to host the party at her place. Well, not forgotten, but at least put it at the back of her mind. She still needed to work on getting Harri a proper present. "So, how long were you waiting?"
"Not long at all," Hermione answered. "I just walked here after breakfast at Harri's. I was actually about to ask the concierge to contact you when I ran into you."
"Good timing then. Alright, once I'm done here, we can head on up."
After finishing the meal, the two of them walked over to the bank of elevators. Hermione pressed the button in the middle, and was confused when Shepard kept walking. She watched silently as Shepard pressed a button next to a smaller elevator slightly away from the main elevators. It opened to a small, but nice little elevator, with only one button. Hermione's eyes widened at the implications as Shepard pulled out a security keycard and swiped it before pressing the button. The teen was a little surprised at the speed of the elevator, before the doors opened again to a well-decorated antechamber. Shepard opened the doors to the penthouse proper, and the teen's jaw dropped slightly at the view of London to the left. She ran over to the windows, her eyes lit up with excitement. "Wow, this place is even better than I'd imagined!" she said in just more than a whisper.
"Let me give you the tour," Shepard said. What followed was a similar tour to the one she'd been given by Eton, finishing in the repaired sitting room where Amelia had attempted to interrogate her a few weeks prior.
"This is amazing!" Hermione said as she sat down, "and this chair is so comfortable!"
"I'm not even going to guess how much this place cost," Shepard said.
"You mean you didn't buy it?" the teen asked incredulously.
"Nope, won it in a side bet at the horse race I'm sure Harri's told you about."
"You never said it was a palace!" Hermione rebutted.
"Not the point, it's mine now. So, Miss Party Planner, what do you think?"
"This place is huge, I'm not sure what to do with all this space," Hermione said, her gaze shifting to the room around them.
"Then don't try to use it all," Tink suggested. "Use only a few rooms. I'd suggest the dining room for cake and any other meals, the room with the London skyline for any games and presents, and you can use one of the guest bedrooms for storage."
"That makes sense. What about the food?" Hermione asked.
"I'll cover that. I'm sure the restaurant downstairs will be more than happy to provide both food and service, as long as you can get everyone to agree to no magic in their presence."
"I think we can do that," Hermione assured the older woman.
"Fair enough, now what about the guest list. I don't care, I'd just like to know how many, and if any of them would need to spend the night. I'm certainly willing to put up a room or two for Harri and some friends if they'd like to stay. Besides, it'd be better here than Grimmauld for a slumber party."
"I didn't even think of that!" Hermione exclaimed. "That would be brilliant Shepard, thank you so much. As for numbers, no more than twenty I'd say. Maybe more if the parents want to come as well, supervision and all that."
"That should be fine. Just give me a list of names beforehand so I can have security informed," Shepard said.
"Security?" Hermione asked. "Why would you need security for a birthday party?"
"Hermione, Harri is one of the most famous people in the British magical world. This place has already been rebuilt after a Death Eater attack a few weeks ago. I can't see the need not to have security."
"Harri won't like it," Hermione mused.
"And I didn't like being under house arrest for nearly six months either," Shepard replied, a little more sharply than she would have liked. "Look Hermione, sometimes there are downsides to being well-known. One of them is the need for security, even at what should be a private celebration. However, as the host I'm taking my responsibilities seriously. Hopefully, you'll never even notice them, and they won't be needed." Hermione didn't look like she agreed initially, but after a few moments thought relented.
"So, do you think lunch or dinner would be better?" she asked.
"Lunch definitely," Tink replied, eager to be back onto happier matters. "If some of you are staying the night, then we can do dinner as well, but I think for the amount of people you want, then lunch would be easier to cater."
The two of them spent the next few hours planning, proposing ideas and arguing back and forth on details until they were satisfied. After giving the teen her phone number to contact her, Hermione left back to Grimmauld to spend some time with Harri and organise the invitations to be sent out secretly with Sirius. Shepard just took the rest of the day for herself to relax and look for her present to Harri.
Three days after her trial by combat, Shepard returned to the bank to meet with Silverfang again. She was pleased that she was directed straight into his office once the guards inside recognised her.
"You've made quite the impression underground," Silverfang said as she sat down. He went straight to the goblin tongue, rather than the usual English.
"A good one I hope," Shepard replied confidently.
"That is yet to be fully determined," Silverfang responded, "but it seems to be favourable for the both of us so far. So, what business brings you here today?"
"Well, I was hoping to speak with Canin about our upcoming venture," Shepard answered. "Indeed," Silverfang said neutrally. He brought out a strange device and wrote something on it, and waited a few seconds for a reply. "It seems you are in luck, Canin is available. Wait here and one of his company will be along to guide you. Meanwhile, if you don't mind, I'll get back to the business of making us both more money."
"Actually, how are my investments going?" Shepard asked.
"Very well. I've managed to get nearly 15% returns so far on invested capital, especially with those Weasley twins. Though if you are planning on hiring a goblin company that will probably create quite a dent in your available liquid assets."
"So, what kind of numbers am I looking at?"
"Just under a million galleons all told, though a little more than half of that is still liquid. I've diversified your holdings between some of the more profitable magical and non-magical businesses available in Britain, and was about to invest internationally starting in a few weeks. The large starting amount of gold certainly helped in setting up."
Before the conversation could continue, there was a knock from the door leading to the undercity of the goblins of London. Shepard nodded to Silverfang who nodded in return, before she turned to her guide. She eyed him carefully, and wasn't surprised when she recognised him.
"Sorry for stealing your sword a few days ago. I know it sucks to be the rookie," she said to him.
"You remember me?" he asked with slight awe.
"Why shouldn't I?" Shepard asked.
"Most humans don't recognise my people."
"I'm not most humans," Shepard replied.
"That was made very clear in our fight," the goblin replied. He held open the door and Shepard followed him.
"What's your name anyway?" Shepard asked as they walked down into the earth.
"Private Bloodaxe," the goblin called over his shoulder. Unseen by him, Shepard's eyes widened. This couldn't possibly be the same goblin that would eventually become Gunny Ellison… could it?
"Your father wouldn't happen to be Ellis?" she asked casually.
"You know of my father?" Bloodaxe asked, stopping to face her.
"Just a guess," Shepard said, trying to dismiss the topic. Bloodaxe looked at her piercingly for a moment, but then continued on in silence. Shepard just marvelled that she had beaten a younger version of the goblin who had once very literally taken on her entire class blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back. She eventually came to the conclusion that everyone had to start somewhere, but she was having a very difficult time reconciling the two of them now.
She was eventually led to a barrack-style building, outside of which the company was training under the watchful eye of Canin. Bloodaxe delivered her to Canin's side, before joining the rest of the goblins in their training.
"Shepard, good to see you again," Canin said as the two of them looked over the training. Shepard was impressed at the wide array of training types being performed, as well as the variety of arms, armour and skills being displayed. "What can I do for you?"
"It was more what I could do for you," Shepard replied as they watched. "It comes to mind that I will be hiring your company for security at Hogwarts in the coming year, so at least nominally I will be in charge."
"True enough," Canin replied. Tink shivered a little at how similar the goblin's reply had been to her late friend David Anderson, both in tone and voice, despite the different language they spoke.
"Anyway, just hiring you and your company doesn't automatically grant me the right to lead them. Such things must be earned."
Canin looked up to the human woman's face for a moment, studying the sincere expression therein. He held her gaze for a moment, and in it found only truth spoken, and unspoken the certainty that Shepard had lead others before, others whom she had earned the right to lead. "Truer words have rarely been spoken," Canin eventually replied. He turned back to the company and his gaze caught that of Goremaw, the surly sergeant. Almost instantly, the gruff goblin's chest expanded before he became a small explosion of sound.
"Company Halt! Fall In!" Goremaw shouted at only marginally sub-harmful volume. And a goblin shouting Gobbledegook is something that can only be experienced to be believed. The company of goblins quickly stopped whatever they were doing and assembled in squads and platoons until Shepard found herself looking at nearly a hundred of the most eclectic goblin warriors she had ever seen.
They all looked expectantly at Canin, who merely gestured towards Shepard. Mimir acknowledged the opportunity with a slight nod, before she turned to the assembled warriors. "As all of you should know by now, I have retained you under my employ to act as security for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this coming year." There were a few grunts of agreement from the ranks, but none of them moved. "As your employer, I expect nothing but the best from you all." This got a few more grunts, and she swore one in the back rolled their eyes. "However, none of you are used to fighting with humans, or at least under their direction. You need to get used to me, and I need to get used to you as well. You all saw how I can fight, so I have no qualms in revealing to you that I am Commander Shepard. It is my sincere hope that soon, I will fight alongside you with honour!"
With that done, Shepard turned and saluted to Canin, not moving a muscle until he returned the salute in his own fashion. He had been surprised for a brief moment the act of an inferior officer, but his outward expression betrayed none of this. The only act of surprise he dared to show was when Shepard smartly dropped the salute and marched off to the back rank, falling in to the gap next to Private Bloodaxe. He understood eventually the significance of her act was now. She intended to train with them, to learn their techniques and to possibly teach them some of her own. And she humbled herself by starting at the bottom, to earn her eventual command over them. He held no illusions that she would quickly rise, like pure gold from the dross in a furnace. Until then though, he intended to treat her like any other goblin warrior under his command. He nodded at Goremaw, who was watching the whole thing with mild confusion, before giving the surly goblin another nod.
Taking the familiarity for what it was offered, Goremaw exploded into sound once again.
"Alright maggots, fun times are over, now back to work! Bloodaxe, since you've volunteered to be responsible for Shepard, any punishment she earns you will share. So obviously, try not to be any more of a disappointment than usual, or I will be severely unimpressed! And you maggots should all know by now that when I'm unimpressed, I tend to spread the misery around!"
"Well, what are you lot waiting for!?"
Shepard limped back into her apartment as the sun began to set and fell on the nearest surface capable of supporting her. Canin and Goremaw had ridden all of them hard, but she could appreciate it even now. They might be sore, all of them, but it was shared hardship that formed the strongest bonds. She already knew the names of the other goblins in the squad she had been assigned to, and they knew her as well. If anything, they respected her a little more now that she had proven that she wasn't just another officer, that she was also a fellow soldier. At the moment though, her pride in her accomplishment was taking a backseat to her sore muscles. She pulled up her omni-tool and dialled the concierge, telling him she needed a deep-tissue massage now, no expense would be spared.
She just managed to get up and get a drink of cool water when the concierge knocked on the door. Behind him was a middle-aged lady of Mediterranean descent, probably Spanish if she was any judge, whom he introduced as one of the hotel's in house spa staff. There would be an extra expense for in-room service, but Shepard was beyond caring at that point. She thanked him and as he left, turned to the masseuse.
"What language do you prefer to speak?" Tink asked in English.
"I am fluent in six languages, so English won't be a problem," came the accented reply.
"I asked you here at dinner time. I am aware of the massive annoyance I am being to you right now. At least let me make it up to you by making this easier in some way. I'm multilingual myself, so what language do you like to speak at home?" Shepard asked kindly, while leading the woman to one of the guest bedrooms.
"I'm Brazillian, but there is little call for my native tongue here," the woman replied in English again.
"Brazillian Portuguese I can do, though you'll have to forgive my accent," Shepard said as she went behind a changing screen to undress. While she put on a robe after divesting herself of all but her briefs, she also calibrated her translation implant to the required language.
She came out to see the woman had already begun laying out various things from her bag, including a portable massage table. She helped the masseuse set up the table, before obligingly laying down upon it. She moaned and thanked the woman as she began kneading at her sore, tight muscles.
"Thank you very much," Shepard managed to get out between moans of pleasure and hisses of pain.
"You weren't kidding about the accent, it's horrible," the masseuse said with a chuckle. She kneaded a particularly tense knot in Shepard's shoulder, grunting a little with the effort. "You certainly are a very tense woman," the masseuse replied. "May I ask what has gotten you this way?"
Shepard thought about how to answer this for a while.
"I'm an athlete. Today was my first day with a new trainer, and he was a bit more… intense than I was ready for I suppose."
"I see. Will you be seeing him again soon?" her angel of pain and mercy asked.
"Probably every day for a week or so, then he might decide I'm good enough to wind back the intensity. Of course I will be willing to pay you handsomely to, Oh Goddess, continue this as needed."
"I think you'll need it more than I will the money," came the chuckling reply. Shepard could hardly argue that point. "I think if we are going to be seeing each other like this though, you should start calling me Vitoria."
"Tink," Shepard grunted as Vitoria came across a particularly tense section in her lower back.
"Tink?" Vitoria asked. "Like the fairy from Peter Pan?"
"Something like that. My parents were a little strange like that," Shepard replied. After that, the two of them conversed normally, if groaning and hissing on Tink's part, through the next 90 minutes. Once Vitoria declared Tink done, all that was left on the bed was a woman-shaped puddle of goo.
"You'll need to drink plenty of water before you go to sleep, or you'll hurt like hell tomorrow, I can guarantee it. Until next time," Vitoria said, packing her things and helping Shepard to her bed, leaving the woman helpless for a moment.
"Rookwood, report!" came the intense whisper from Lord Voldemort. Snape, though the man had his uses, was frustratingly slow in healing the wounds caused by the mystery woman. How he would love to send in his Death Eaters to kill her, but that would mean revealing a weakness, and to the self-styled Dark Lord, there was nothing worse than revealing weakness. He would get her eventually, that much he swore, but for now, he had other targets. His attempt on Bones' life had failed spectacularly, and since then she had become paranoid and well protected. He would lose more than he would gain to kill her now. However, there was another target he had in mind, which he would give to Rookwood after he received the man's report.
"My Lord, our recruitment efforts are bearing fruit in the Continent" the senior underling reported gleefully. Good news was usually rewarded, or at least not punished. "Once the proof of your return and power was confirmed, many began to flock to us."
Yes, no doubt trying to learn my secret to immortality, Voldemort thought archly. No matter, I will not allow another to supplant me, as they will learn.
"This is good news indeed Rookwood. I believe we can leave the recruitment efforts to other of my followers. Bella is ready to return to service, is she not?"
"Indeed my Lord, she is healed and eager to serve you once more."
"Good, then I have a task for the both of you. I have no doubt that soon there will be a party for the girl who deigns to defy me."
"The Potter girl, my Lord?" Rookwood asked to confirm.
"The very same. It would be such a shame if something… unfortunate happened on her sweet sixteenth, wouldn't it?" Voldemort asked. The tone of his voice left no room for interpretation on what the Dark lord wished in this case.
"I will see that it is done my Lord," Rookwood said with a bow.
"Do not kill her… immediately. Draw out her suffering as long as possible. No reason to let her end be swift, after all. And finding her in such a state will remind the people why I am their natural ruler, and what I do to those who dare defy me."
"So shall it be." The man bowed and left, leaving the man once known as Tom Riddle to his thoughts.
Happy Birthday, Miss Potter. Enjoy it while you can, because if I have anything to say about it, it will be your last.
Luna looked over the simple page of parchment once again. She had received it by owl today, which was unusual in itself. In the last few years, she could count on one hand the number of pieces of mail that had been addressed to her that weren't official correspondence. The envelope was plain enough, just her name on the outside in a neat script that she suspected was one of those 'pens' Hermione talked about. It was certainly impossible to make such fine script without inkspots using conventional quills after all, and the girl didn't seem the type to buy a magical quill just for herself.
It was what was inside the envelope however, that was giving her pause. She'd enjoyed the last year of Hogwarts, well, except perhaps for the battle just after exams. The DA was such a wonderful place, and the people there hardly ever made fun of her, especially Hermione. Sure, the older girl with bouncy brown curls had been initially sceptical of her belief in imaginary animals, but at least she kept any scathing remarks to herself after Harri had talked to her about it. If things had continued, Luna was even hopeful that maybe she'd be able to tell the girl about the façade she'd worn for so long it had become her face. Tell her about the real Luna.
It seemed less likely now, but maybe this would be an opportunity. Apparently Hermione was organising a birthday party for Harri, a surprise one at that. She wasn't sure if Harri would agree on the surprise part, but a birthday party would be fun. She remembered some of her earlier ones, when her mother was still alive, and smiled wanly. She would love to go, but there still remained the issue of permission from her father. These days he might not be in full possession of his marbles, as the Muggles were want to say, but he was still her father, and deserved to know at least. The invitation also included a personal message to her that if she wanted to, she was welcome to spend the night at the party location, since it was going to be held somewhere in London, but not Grimmauld place itself.
First things first though. Luna gathered her wits, and readied herself, as she knocked on the door to her father's study.
"Enter!" came a jolly voice. Luna opened the door and was greeted to the sight of barely organised chaos, like every time she came in here. Her father tended to spend most of his time in here, when he wasn't at the presses, sleeping or eating. Early on it had been a normal enough room, just a few odd things on shelves, personal things that meant something to the blonde man. Over time though, as he had drawn further and further away from the world and the pain of losing his wife, it had become more and more a reflection of the man himself, barely hanging on to sanity.
On first look, it was similar to so many other conspiracy theorists' hideaways. Boards covered in pictures, articles and other papery things covered the majority of the wallspace, each pin connected with strings of various colours. What separated Xenophilius Lovegood from the less dedicated among those searching for truths that didn't exist was that his boards were connected by the strings, so that the room was less walls and empty space and more like what a spider would manage if it got access to potent psychotropics and multi-coloured silk. Floating through the interconnected webs were various items, each of them connecting various items on the boards. If someone was brave enough to watch, they would see the strings, papers and even the boards themselves moving, rearranging themselves according to some unknown and unknowable pattern.
"Father?" Luna asked when she couldn't find him with her initial investigation of the walls and ceiling.
"Moonflower! What can I do for you?" came a voice behind and above her. She turned around to see him hanging, batlike, over the portal to the room, his face covered by elaborate eyewear as he intensely scrutinised a particularly flamboyant seashell.
"I just wanted to know if I could go to a party, possibly stay the night?" she asked.
"Who for?" Xeno asked. "Is it that Cedric boy?"
"Cedric Diggory is dead father, and the party is for Harri Potter."
"Oh, the girl you keep talking about in your letters. She sounds like she has the worst case of Confounding Dorseters. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to give her that new shampoo I've developed to ward them off."
Luna smiled sadly at her father. Not even that long ago, she would have not only indulged in this new fantasy creature, but she would have dived into the depth of madness and skirted the edge of the sane and possible right alongside him, if only because he was the only one she could talk to. Now though, she had friends, and only felt sadness that her father did not have the same. Still though, if he was happier in the world only he could see now, then no reason to bring him down.
"I'm sure that will make a lovely gift father. So, can I take that as permission then?" she asked.
"Certainly," he replied jovially.
"Incidentally, have I told you that I'm going to Zaire on the first of August?" he asked mildly.
"No, you hadn't," Luna said. "Am I coming as well?"
"Drat, I knew there was something I was forgetting when I was making the arrangements," Xeno said, sounding only mildly annoyed that he had forgotten about his daughter. Luna, for her part, was a little more upset, if only because it had always been a tradition between them. A summer trip to some wild, untamed wilderness looking for creatures that couldn't possibly exist. It was never about the creatures to Luna, it was always about staying close to her father. Now he was going without her.
"It's probably a bit late to get you in as well," he thought aloud, almost absent-mindedly. "How much trouble do you think it would be to find alternate accommodation for you for August?"
"If you don't mind me being out of the house, I think I might be able to manage," Luna said, her voice concealing the fact she was quite cross with him at the moment.
"Sounds capital," Xeno said, turning his attention fully back to his seashell. Luna walked out, careful not to get tangled in any of the threads, and went to her room to pack. Several hours later, she decided to just pack everything, since it was clear her father had finally reached a point he'd been heading to for years. It hurt her to realise it, but her father's madness had finally eclipsed her in his own personal hierarchy.
As Luna wrote down her reply to Hermione, she tried to avoid getting too many tell-tale tear stains on the parchment as she replied she would be delighted to attend the party. Privately, she hoped to talk to someone willing to take her in during it as well, since while she did have friends now, asking to stay with them for a whole month at short notice might be a bit much.
Ginny Weasley was also in a bit of a bind, but this one was entirely of her own making. Well, an argument could be made that it was Tom Riddle who'd been responsible for the awkwardness she now felt, and puberty probably had a hand in it as well, but the girl was hardly going to tell anyone about that.
The real problem had started in her first year, as many of her problems had, with that damn diary. In the beginning, Tom was fun and likable and listened. By the end, he was rude and cruel and hurt her just because he could, because he knew that she couldn't fight back in any meaningful way. Mostly, the mental torture sessions were just words and thoughts from the cruel mind of a sixteen year old boy. But as sixteen year old boys are want to do, thoughts of sex and naked girls and women had filtered into the young Ginny's mind. It had taken the services of a private mind healer, and most of the summer not spent in Egypt, but between the two she had eventually been freed of the lingering remnants of Tom's possession of her.
Most of the remnants, at least. Even after professional help, there were two lingering traces of Riddle's mind. First was that Tom Riddle's obsession with the Harri Potter was second only to her own hero-worship of the girl who had quite literally saved her life. Second, was that about halfway through her second year puberty began to hit, and at the same time as she was thinking decidedly teenaged-girl thoughts about boys, some small part of her thought the same way about some of the girls she saw, particularly Harri. Initially, she had rejected it as just her lingering hero-worship, and in the last year she's made a real friendship with the girl, which was much better than some of her fantasies could have ever imagined.
The thing was though, while she was starting to get a handle on the urges she sometimes felt about certain boys, she'd never truly been able to get control of the ones about Harri. Even as she approached her fifteenth birthday, she would sometimes have to stop her hand wandering to some of her most sensitive areas of her body when she thought about the black-haired girl. It was maddening and confusing and exciting all at the same time, and it was a wonder she hadn't made a spectacle of herself in front of the whole castle every time she was near the object of her crush. Ginny knew that was what it was, but unlike her previous crushes, she didn't know how to get past this one.
She sat on her bed again and read the invitation from Hermione to attend Harri's surprise birthday party. She enjoyed getting an invite, though she wasn't sure her mother would allow her to stay overnight. She'd gotten a little paranoid about protecting her children since Voldemort had come out publicly, especially after the recent battle of Diagon Alley. If anything, Ginny half suspected that her mother wouldn't let her go without her supervising the whole party. Right now, she needed to talk to Molly.
She got up and walked through the house, ending up in the kitchen where Molly could usually be found. Except that she wasn't there this time. Ginny eventually found her mother outside near the pond, sitting on a conjured chair and staring out over the water at the orchard beyond. Ginny sat down next to her mother, not wanting to break the peaceful silence just yet. Molly took a deep breath and closed her eyes, before opening them and turning to Ginny, giving a little start at seeing the younger redhead.
"Oh, Ginny dear, I didn't hear you come up," Molly gasped.
"What were you thinking about mum?" Ginny asked.
"Things I'd rather not," Molly replied sadly, before turning to her daughter with a partially-forced smile.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" Molly asked.
"I wanted to go to Harri's birthday party mum," Ginny replied.
"I'm not sure," Molly said slowly. "Grimmauld place isn't exactly what I'd call a party-friendly environment."
"It's not being held there, it's being held… somewhere else. Muggle London, from what Hermione says in the invite. Ron's got one too, I'd imagine, when he opens his mail."
"Can I see it?" Molly asked kindly. Ginny reluctantly handed over the hand-written invite, because she hadn't brought up the subject of a possible overnight stay yet. Molly read over the letter carefully, as if to ascertain that it was genuine, before she turned to her daughter.
"I suspect you'd like to stay overnight as well?" Molly asked pointedly.
"Yes," Ginny replied honestly.
"Alright then, you can spend the night, and Ron will probably want to go as well." Ginny looked up at her mother's face with confusion, having certainly not expected such a reaction. "Oh don't look at me like that Ginny, I was young once as well," Molly added to her dumbstruck daughter.
"Merlin, your father and I had most of you during Voldemort's worst years," Molly said exasperatedly. "I know it doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I remember what it is to live and be a teenager, however far away it seems some days. The thing about war is that you have to cling to the normal things, like birthdays and slumber parties. I know I'm getting a little… possessive, and I'm trying to remember that you're not all children anymore, you're young men and women who should be allowed some say" Molly said kindly, pulling her youngest into a one-armed hug. "However, that doesn't mean that I'm not going to make sure that your bed doesn't contain anyone of the male persuasion for at least another few years."
"Eww, Mum!" Ginny protested with a giggle, "I don't even want to think about that!"
"Doesn't mean you don't," Molly replied with a smirk. "Don't forget, I was your age once as well, and possibly a little less controlled than I ought to have been with those particular urges."
Ginny felt a little conflicted now. Her mother was opening up and talking about things she needed to talk about with someone, but wasn't sure her mother was ready to hear that she fantasied about girls rather than guys. One girl in particular.
"Mum, can I ask you questions about… sex?" Ginny asked. Her voice grew quiet at the last word, her cheeks pinking in embarrassment.
"I'm always here for you my dear" the older woman replied. And I'll try to remember the things I did at not much older than you before I speak as well, Molly thought to herself. Her daughter was gone so much of the year, that she might as well be a stranger sometimes. A chance like this to connect with her only daughter was not to be squandered by being petty. Something which, after her afternoon session of soul-searching, she realised was an ugly part of herself that had gotten worse over the years, and was possibly why so many of her children hadn't been home in years.
Ginny swallowed thickly before she composed herself enough to ask the questions that were burning within her.
"Did you ever… touch yourself when thinking about someone?" she asked in a small voice. "Yes dear. It's called masturbation, and it's normal, even when you grow up. I still do it from time to time." Ginny shuddered as she tried, and horribly failed, not to imagine her mother touching herself like she did increasingly when she thought about Harri. When she was sure she had fought down the urge to vomit, Ginny asked her next question.
"Uh… when did you and dad…?"
"Make love? Have sex?" Her mother prompted. Ginny just nodded, unable to make the words form in her mouth at the moment. "Well, you have to realise that your father wasn't my first, and I know I wasn't his. We both had a few partners during our last few years at Hogwarts. We didn't actually begin dating until after we'd both graduated. As for my first time, it was the end of my fifth year. And judging from the expression on your face, I don't think now is the time to go into details of that encounter," Molly said with another smirk.
"I just as soon would not like to know the details of your sex life," Ginny replied, gagging a little. Molly just chuckled at seeing her daughter discomfited so, recalling the expression on her son's faces after Arthur had sat them down at about the same age as Ginny. Bill and Charlie were mostly fine, but she smiled remembering that Ron and Percy had been particularly red-faced. Fred and George had looked at their father with a new, adoring light afterwards. She was fairly certain this was because Arthur had told them how, in his sixth year, he'd slept his way through the women of the Hogwarts Quidditch teams, at least those fifteen or older. As far as she knew, he still held that particular record, given that year was the first time Ravenclaw had fielded an all-girl team in decades.
Ginny watched her mother laugh and got a little more at ease, ready to ask the next, and final, question she had.
"Mum, did you ever fancy… girls?" she asked, not as quietly as before.
"I can't say that I did," Molly answered. "I did know of an older girl who did though, but not much aside from that. Why, does your broom fly that way?" her mother asked, her voice tinged with a hint of disapproval despite her own attempts to stifle it.
"And so what if it does?" Ginny asked, suddenly defensive.
Molly regretted it immediately, the change that came over her daughter. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she opened them to see Ginny's red face, this time from anger.
"I'm sorry Ginny, please don't get upset, I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly. "Look, you'll understand when you have children of your own, you want the best for them, for them not to make the same mistakes you did. When I was younger, not much older than you, I was a bit of a tease. My first time wasn't bad, but in hindsight I realise that it possibly was one of the worst decisions I've ever made. I just don't want you to look back over your life and feel the same."
Molly sighed heavily and looked back over the pond and orchard.
"I'm sorry I sounded like that Ginny, it's wasn't meant to come out like that. Let me try again." She took another breath and looked into her daughter's eyes, her expression calmer, but she could see the tell-tale signs that the anger was just simmering below the surface, just like her own did far too often. "Do you like other girls?"
"Yes… maybe… I don't know!" Ginny said, her voice breaking as she buried her head into her mother's shoulder. "Everything's just so confused when I think about Harri!"
Molly said nothing, just let her daughter hold her, unable to give a response. She had no experience in dealing with a daughter coming out like this, and she didn't know anyone who did.
"I'm sorry sweetie," she said consolingly. "Can't you talk to Harri about it?"
"No!" Ginny said vehemently. "It's too hard to talk to her about it, especially since we've actually become friends." Molly looked at her daughter as if coaxing her to explain further. "Ever since she rescued me… talking to her was really difficult. Last year, I don't know, it was an opportunity to get to know her. She's actually pretty cool, and she's a good friend. But I don't know how to talk to her about this! How do you go up to someone and say 'Hi, we're really good friends, but right now I have this overwhelming urge to kiss you'?"
"It seemed to work alright for your father," Molly said teasingly.
"Not helpful," Ginny mumbled, her head once again on her mother's shoulder.
"I'm sorry Ginny, but I'm not sure I can help you much with this," Molly said placatingly as she rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. Ginny said nothing for a moment, just humming contentedly as the motion brought back fond memories. "Why don't you talk to your other friends, like Hermione? She seems like a smart cookie."
"I… I don't know why I didn't think of that," Ginny admitted. If there was anyone around her age she could talk to about this, it probably was Hermione. Though it did run the risk of the older teen going slightly academic about the whole thing, as she tended to do sometimes.
"Well then, I'm glad we talked about this Ginny," Molly said as she looked out at the orchard again.
"Me too mum," Ginny agreed, joining her mother in silent introspection until the sun began to touch the horizon.
"What makes you think I have any idea?" Snape hissed as he worked over his cauldron. Rookwood had barged in as he was making another healing potion for Voldemort, a tricky enough business without the former Unspeakable's lamentable lack of respect for his abilities and need for extreme focus.
"You're our spy in Dumbledore's ranks, and he's bound to know something about it," Rookwood replied. "I'd have thought you'd be glad to offer such information to our Lord's cause."
"If I had known about his desire to ruin Potter's birthday, which I stress I did not, I might have made a point to seek such information," Snape replied with a sneer as he slapped Rookwood's hands away from his ingredients. "Since I did not, I have not been able to collect such information. Besides, Black has removed himself from the old man's Order, and as such I do not have regular access to the girl or her plans."
"I'm not sure our Master would agree," Rookwood drawled.
"What you are and are not sure of I'm certain could fill a very small roll of parchment," Snape threw back. "Now, if you are done searching me for information I simply do not have, the Dark Lord is waiting on these potions."
Rookwood said nothing, but made to leave the room. "If I were you Severus, I would remind myself of where my loyalties lie, and how best to serve them," he said as he stood at the threshold, before stalking into the night.
"Oh, but I do," Snape muttered under his breath. In truth, the matter of the girl's party was news to him, since certainly no member of the Order had been invited to his knowledge. While he was admittedly not the most popular of people inside the Order, perhaps it was time to speak to Albus again to try and get more information about Potter's movements. Some information on an upcoming Death Eater raid might be enough to get the old man to budge.
As he thought, his mind wandered over to the small silver platter covered with water on the table. Rookwood had overlooked it, but others more in tune with divination would have recognised the scrying bowl. In the brief periods between experimenting on potions to heal Voldemort, he had been trying to scry for the woman he had remembered from that one Order meeting, the one who had come with Black and Potter. He had examined his memory enough to know her face and shape, but the results he had gotten from his scrying attempts were maddeningly vague.
Such spells were looked down upon, because it was as ineffective form of spying at best. They worked better the more you knew of the target, and he had little enough information to begin with. Her face was good, but without a name to attach to it, what little else he had learned was not enough to assist him. He had seen glimpses of a London skyline, and a number inscribed into a building, but not enough to form an address. He had even stranger sights of abstract concepts, such as a fairy dressed in green, of a flock of sheep, of a spirit guarding a well under a tree. Most of all, what he saw reflected in the water was purple fire, flickering and powerful, but with a sense of control and purpose behind the danger. He would sometimes stare at it for what felt like hours, being mesmerised by the flickers of blue and black as he looked at what was surely a manifestation of whatever power had wounded Voldemort.
A power he swore would be his.
As the 31st drew closer, several plans began to take shape.
For Shepard, she managed to convince Vitoria to give Harri some private lessons on massage therapy. She had convinced the Brazillian that the black-haired teen had an interest in sport medicine, and wanted to give her a preview of what that could entail. What she didn't mention to Vitoria was that Shepard also knew it would be a great form of foreplay later on. In addition to these plans, she was also rapidly raising through the ranks of Canin's company, already on equal footing with Goremaw, the surly seargeant. She still had a ways to go before they would accept her lead over Canin's but that was only a matter of time and training.
Shepard had told them of their first objective, security at the party, and they had looked at her in awe. She had never experienced it herself, but she remembered a few tales that Gunny Ellison would tell her about how goblins had yearned to fight and live under the sun before the Collapse. Tales that had been reinforced by Canin later on that day, after the shock had worn off. Plans were in place and hopefully, none of them would be needed.
Ginny didn't have a lot of opportunity to talk to Hermione about her crush problems, what with her homework and the fact she was going into her OWL year this year, but she had exchanged a few letters with the brown-haired teen and Hermione had definitely offered to talk to her about it. Unfortunately, it seemed the first opportunity would be Harri's slumber party, which she felt slightly guilty about. This was meant to be a day to celebrate Harri, not her problem crushing on the birthday girl.
Luna was feeling mixed feelings about the approaching party as well. She had written to Hermione with her reply, as well as reluctantly putting on parchment her need for accommodation for the month of August. Hermione was apologetic that she couldn't offer a space in her own home, but she would ask around. A few days later, Hedwig had returned bearing a letter from Shepard, offering her a place to stay. Sure, it would be nice to spend some more time with the older blonde, but that only reinforced for her that her father had finally put her second in his life. The waifish blonde suspected there would be a lot of crying on Shepard's shoulder during August.
The Dark Lord was smirking to himself as he sat stiffly on his throne. The wounds the woman had inflicted on him were finally beginning to heal, though slowly. He glamoured himself through meeting his underlings, and wasn't strong enough to truly wield magic as he had before, not without damaging the gains he had made. While he would love to gut the Potter girl himself, he would have to settle for knowing his minions would succeed where so many others had failed. Severus had come through for them, using his position as Dumbledore's pet spy to wrangle out the information that the girl's party was to be held in London, at a private muggle residence. Rookwood and Bella would go there, as well as some of their new recruits, to sow chaos, terror and death. After all, what hope could a bunch of teenagers, most of them girls, hold against the might of his Death Eaters?
July 31st was going to be an interesting day.
A/N: I make no apologies for the delay, my life has been crap until recently.
In case you actually read this far and didn't understand, I use italics for speech when its not in English, because I'm lazy.