INTERLUDE
by Silver Phoenix
Chapter 10: The Interim Ministry of Magic
"It's the lifts that have been driving everyone mad," said Percy Weasley. "Near the end, one of the Death Eaters got the idea to monitor where everyone was going by placing some really clever charms on all the lifts. The magic's somehow gone all wrong now. Maintenance is still trying to sort it out. I suppose it's not really a priority considering the mess that a lot of departments are still in, but if we can't use the lifts…"
Percy had joined Harry and Ron the previous night at Arbour Glen for dinner, and Harry had, without thinking, suddenly asked Percy if he could take him for a visit to the Ministry of Magic the next day. This surprising request had been met by a suspicious look from Ron, but Percy had enthusiastically agreed. Harry was still not certain why he had asked Percy to bring him here, nor exactly what he intended to accomplish. It did not seem to matter, however, because the lift he and Percy were on kept returning them to the Atrium of the Ministry against their wills.
"Oh honestly, not again," sighed Percy. The golden grille of the lift had opened to reveal the Atrium again.
"Level Eight, Atrium," said a cool, female voice.
"No, no, no," said Percy, frustrated. "We want to go to Level Two!"
"Level Eight, Atrium," the disembodied voice repeated firmly.
As Percy took out his wand and began prodding at the grilles in an effort to get them to close again, Harry stared out at the Atrium. He remembered his very first visit to the Ministry and considered how things had changed. The dark Atrium was far more crowded than Harry had ever seen it. The ceiling, which had once shone peacock blue, had faded to a muted denim colour, and the golden symbols which used to move fluidly across the ceiling seemed to have been frozen. Several of the fireplaces which lined the walls were either boarded up or in a state of disrepair. A constant stream of haggard-looking witches and wizards popped out of the remaining functional fireplaces, only to be swallowed up by the throng in the Atrium. Several of the people in this crowd wore the navy blue robes of the Magical Maintenance workers; a group of these weary-looking wizards were huddled together in the middle of the hall. They stood with wands pointed at the ceiling, occasionally being jostled around by the crowd as they worked. Every now and then one of the golden symbols would flash and jump to life, moving and changing for a short period of time, before stopping dead once more. One of the maintenance wizards threw his wand to the ground in frustration and had to quickly stoop to rescue it from being trampled by a small witch flying out of a nearby fireplace.
One change since his last visit to the Ministry gave Harry a glimmer of hope - the grotesque "MAGIC IS MIGHT" statue which had dominated the Atrium was gone. Harry suspected that it had met a violent end; there was a large crater in the floor where the statue used to be.
Percy jumped backwards as the grilles abruptly clanged shut and the lift began to ascend. Percy tugged at a violet paper aeroplane that had gotten stuck in the grille and released it.
"Everything all right at the house?" Percy asked absently, watching the damaged aeroplane as it flew in wild zigzags around the lift.
Kreacher had been left at Arbour Glen alone for the day, and Hermione and Ron had been notified that the house was unprotected. Harry reached for the fake Galleon in his pocket, but it was silent and cool to the touch. If something happened, he would Disapparate home on the spot.
"So far, so good," said Harry. "Are things here, er…back to normal?"
"It's been a bit chaotic trying to get everything back in order," Percy answered with a sigh. "Internally, several positions have had to be filled, all sorts of records have gone missing, and we're still stumbling across curses and jinxes that were put into place to keep people out of the higher-ups' business. The other day I tried to open a locked drawer in my office and ended up floating upside down for a half hour until someone realized I wasn't in a meeting and came to find me."
Harry gave him a wry smile. "The last Senior Undersecretary to the Minister wasn't exactly the trusting type."
"And she had horrible taste - it took me ages to get all of those ghastly kitten plates off the wall. Ah, finally," said Percy as the female voice announced that they had at long last reached Level Two. "Follow me."
Harry nervously followed Percy out of the lift and down a familiar hallway. Although Percy was undoubtedly busy in his new position, he had happily taken the time to meet Harry in London that morning and accompany him through the Ministry. He had politely refrained from asking why Harry needed to visit Auror Headquarters today, and furthermore, had not asked Harry about the Auror application he had procured for him either. Harry felt somewhat guilty about all of the rotten things he had either said or agreed with about Percy over the past couple of years; he really was not a bad sort.
They passed through a pair of heavy oak doors into Auror Headquarters, which had also changed since the last time Harry was here. There were far fewer cubicles in the large, open space. Most of the cubicles seemed a bit tidier and more organized. The walls, which had previously been covered in memos, posters, notes, and flyers, were now entirely covered in photographs. The wall on their right was plastered with photographs of Death Eaters scowling down at them. Handwritten notes were tacked up haphazardly around all the photos. Harry noticed that someone had drawn an impressive moustache, bushy eyebrows, and what looked like devil horns on the shot of Yaxley. The opposite wall was covered in photographs of smiling witches and wizards, a few of whom looked vaguely familiar. Harry's heart skipped a beat as his eyes picked out a photo of Tonks, laughing with her arms flung around the shoulders of two wizards he did not recognize. Above this collection of photographs shimmered golden words on the wall: Lest we forget.
Harry tore his gaze away from the photo of Tonks and looked to Percy. "What did they all do," he asked, surprised that this question had not occurred to him before, "when Voldemort took over the Ministry? What happened to the Aurors?"
Percy looked grim. "It wasn't easy for any of us really, but especially for them," he said. "Traitors were dealt with severely, but a lot of us tried to stay on - we did what they asked us and tried to do as much good as we could at the same time without anybody noticing. For the Aurors, the definition of 'Dark wizard' meant any Muggle-born with a wand. They were more or less made into glorified Snatchers."
Harry looked horrified. "And they went along with it?"
"Most of them had no choice," Percy explained. "Some were Imperiused. The ones that weren't…Yaxley threatened them and their families…"
Harry shook his head, disgusted. "So they went out and caught Muggle-borns and brought them to Umbridge."
"Not everyone. Some of them disappeared and went into hiding. Others joined the Order. A few stayed on and turned spies for the Order, pretending to be loyal to the Death Eaters while working to get the Muggle-borns they were supposed to be hunting out of the country. But it was a huge risk - if the Death Eaters caught them at it, they were either Imperiused immediately, tried as a blood traitor, or…" Percy glanced at the wall filled with photos, the tribute to the fallen Aurors, and looked solemn.
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, sorry that he had jumped to conclusions about the Aurors. He stared at the photo of Tonks for a moment longer, and then suddenly realized that he and Percy seemed to be alone in the room. "Where is everyone?"
"They've holed themselves up in the back room, looks like!" called a deep voice from behind one of the cubicles. Harry craned his neck to see a very large man reclining in a chair in the cubicle, his hulking boots perched atop the desk. The man unfolded himself from the chair and lumbered over to Harry and Percy. As he got closer Harry realized that the man was much older than he had initially thought; there were streaks of silver in his dirty blonde beard and his ruddy face was lined. There was something familiar about him, but Harry could not place where he had seen the man before.
"They must be having a meeting. Been waiting myself," the man explained, looking Percy and Harry up and down. A flicker of recognition suddenly crossed his face, but to Harry's surprise, it was Percy whom he enthusiastically clapped on the shoulder.
"Arthur's boy, isn't it?" the man said jovially. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, I heard!"
Percy smiled weakly, sinking slightly under the weight of the man's hand on his shoulder. "Interim Minister for Magic," he corrected, though he looked pleased.
"Right, right - Interim Senior Undersecretary to the Interim Minister of the Interim Ministry of Magic," said the man with a grin. "Must have made your old man proud, eh? Haven't seen him or Molly in ages." He glanced over at Harry and stuck out a hand. "And of course I'm pleased to be meeting your acquaintance."
"Harry, this is Gwilym Brigstocke," said Percy as Harry's hand was crushed in the man's firm handshake. "He's an old friend of the family's."
"Yeah, and this one was too young last time I saw him to recall that no one in their right mind has ever called me Gwilym," boomed Brigstocke. "It's Brigs. Pleasure to meet you, Potter. Bang-up job you've been doing over here, saving the world and whatnot."
Harry grinned, feeling somewhat grateful that Brigstocke did not show any signs of the star-struck manner he had come to expect from strangers. "Nice to meet you, too."
"Are you…" Percy suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Are you back then, Mr Brigstocke?"
"Not exactly. Don't do well with authority, as you've probably heard," Brigs said, tipping Percy an enormous wink.
"Mr Bristocke is - I mean, that is, he was - an Auror," Percy explained to Harry hesitantly. He coughed, looking awkward. "You were, um…a Seeker, weren't you, sir?"
"Like…in Quidditch?" Harry asked, confused. The burly man was not exactly the correct build for a Seeker.
Brigstocke threw back his head and laughed. "Oh no, it's not Snitches I'd be looking for," he said merrily. "Dark devices. Bewitched items. Cursed stuff. Wish I'd known about that Horcrux hunt you went on - sounds like it was a hell of a time."
"You could say that," said Harry dryly.
"They wouldn't let me back in the ruddy country," Brigs said disappointedly. "Everyone else was trying to get out. I was the only one trying to get in and I still couldn't manage it."
There was a short silence. "Oh?" said Percy, trying to fill the gap in conversation. "You…travelled, then? Where have you been?"
"Cameroon, Cancun, the moon…where haven't I been?" Brigs said dismissively. "Real question is - what brings you two to Auror Headquarters?"
"Er…I need to speak to Mr Proudfoot," said Harry, realizing on the spot that speaking to Proudfoot was his objective.
"The Foot?" Brigs boomed. "Well, luckily for you he's a close personal friend of mine. What about?"
But Harry was spared answering by a pair of double doors being flung open on the opposite end of the room. The Aurors who stumbled out of the doors looked worn-out and sleep-deprived. Gone was the rowdy, talkative bunch Harry had met last time he was here. There were also, Harry noticed, far fewer of them. Brigs clapped Harry on the shoulder and then started walking towards the group of Aurors filing wearily back to their cubicles. Several of them visibly brightened when they saw Brigs or gave calls of recognition. A few of the Aurors stopped to shake his hand or slap him on the back. Near the back of the crowd, Harry spotted a frowning Proudfoot and felt his insides start wriggling.
"Mr Brigstocke used to be the best Seeker the Aurors had," Percy whispered to Harry. "I've heard Brigs had a…well, a disagreement with Mr Fudge when he first became Minister. Rumours were that Brigs was going to get fired, but he resigned before anyone could let him go and then disappeared."
Brigs had now made his way over to Proudfoot, who looked less than pleased to see him, although this may have been because it was apparently his desk that Brigs had been resting his muddy boots on a few moments ago. Harry abruptly decided that he liked Brigs; he had an automatic respect for anyone who had stood up to Cornelius Fudge.
"So did you need to…talk to someone…?" Percy asked uncertainly.
"I'll be fine on my own if you have work to do," said Harry quickly. He still had not the faintest idea what he intended to say, and he did not need to have Percy watching him make a fool of himself.
Percy looked a bit relieved. "Well, I do have a lot to do…there's a bit of an International Portkey drama, as I'm sure you've heard, and the Interim Minister is meeting with some representatives from Spain and Portugal…you'll be all right on your own, then?"
"Yeah, don't worry about me," said Harry, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Proudfoot had just spotted him and had a displeased look on his face.
"See you later then, Harry," said Percy, turning to leave as Proudfoot halted his conversation with Brigs and marched over to Harry. Brigs ambled along behind him casually.
"Potter," Proudfoot said once he had made his way over with Brigs in tow. "Is there a problem at the house?"
"No, no problems yet…"
"Then may I ask who is there right now?"
"Kreacher's there," said Harry, trying to keep the defensive note out of his voice. "And I've got the Galleon. Nothing's happening."
Proudfoot still looked displeased. "Why…" he trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at Brigs in annoyance. Brigs was standing innocently behind him and did not look like he intended to go anywhere. Proudfoot sighed. "Why weren't we informed that you would be away from the house today? We could have posted someone there in your absence."
"Well, it's not really necessary," said Harry. "We have the Galleons - "
Proudfoot cut him off. "We agreed that you would remain at the compromised location as much as possible."
"I have been."
Proudfoot looked impatient. "Well then may I ask why you have decided to take an impromptu field trip to the Ministry of Magic today?"
Harry balled up his fist and bit back the snarky comment that had been at the tip of his tongue. "I've actually come to speak to you, sir."
"Polite young man, isn't he?" Brigs commented mildly.
Proudfoot ignored him. "Speak to me about what?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I'd like to submit an application to be considered as an Auror trainee."
Proudfoot stared at him blankly. Brigs grinned and raised an eyebrow, and several of the other Aurors who had been milling about perked up.
"But you haven't finished school," Proudfoot finally pointed out after an extended silence.
"I know," Harry said quickly, "but I'm sure that I can pass all the practical tests - "
"You require N.E.W.T.'s in the core subjects in order to pass the practical examinations," Proudfoot snapped. "There are requirements for a reason!"
Brigs snorted. "It's Harry bloody Potter, Angus."
Proudfoot reeled on Brigs, his moustache twitching furiously. "I refuse to give special treatment or let rules slide when it comes to so-called 'important persons'," he hissed. "That was the old Ministry. I thought you of all people would appreciate that I'm trying to turn things around here."
Brigs turned his palms upwards as if to acquiesce to this fact. "Sure, and I know you're doing a fine job so far. I'm not saying you have to let the rules slide - just bend them a wee bit. Think of what the boy's done. Doesn't he deserve a spot?"
The majority of the Aurors had abandoned all attempts of even pretending to be busy and were now blatantly eavesdropping.
"Actually, this is what I've come down here to chat with you about," Brigs continued smoothly. "We've worked it all out - Harry will start his first year of training here, but he'll also do private lessons with his N.E.W.T. professors at Hogwarts once a week. He'll be in school still. It'll just be like a…work experience year."
Harry stared at Brigs, who winked at him over Proudfoot's shoulder. It was not possible that this was, in fact, what Brigs had come to speak to Proudfoot about. After all, he had just met Harry and had no way of knowing that he was interested in applying to be an Auror until now.
"The teachers would never agree to that," Proudfoot said, shaking his head. "The N.E.W.T. year is intensive, and it's already going to be a shortened school year. They'd never been able to cover the material in once-a-week lessons."
"Sure they can. In fact, they've already agreed to it," Brigs lied easily. "Flitwick, McGonagall, and Old Sluggy are close personal friends."
Considering Brigs had also referred to Proudfoot as a close personal friend, Harry was not sure that it was such a good thing that he counted his professors in the same category. Harry hoped that they were closer personal friends than Proudfoot, who currently looked as if he would not mind hexing Brigs.
"What about his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Proudfoot said sceptically. "He needs a N.E.W.T. in Defense as well. Have they even found anyone yet?"
"Well yeah, actually," said Brigs. "Me."
Proudfoot's jaw actually dropped. He had probably sensed that Brigs had been ad-libbing most of this exchange so far, but this last statement had an undeniable ring of truth to it. Harry realized in a flash where he had seen Brigs before. It had been in the Hog's Head, the day that he, Ron and Hermione had gone to Hogsmeade to meet Willy Peet. Brigs must have been coming from Hogwarts.
"You?" Proudfoot said in disbelief. "Minerva McGonagall asked you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"Like I said," Brigs stated, looking pleased with Proudfoot's shocked expression, "she's a close personal friend."
"But…but…you have no experience teaching!" Proudfoot spluttered. "And very little experience in practical Defense - you deal with Dark objects, not wizards!"
"Oh, and you think that Dark objects don't come attached with their share of Dark witches and wizards and hags and vampires and all sorts?" Brigs said, looking miffed. "I've had plenty of experience, thank you."
"That's not what I meant," Proudfoot said hastily, "I only meant…well, I just never thought you of all people would be interested in teaching at Hogwarts…"
"Heard the job's cursed. 'Course I'm interested," Brigs explained cheerfully. "So what do you say about having Harry here start as an Auror trainee while he finishes up his N.E.W.T's?"
"I'm ready to do all the practical tests," Harry jumped in eagerly, surprised by his good fortune, "and if my results aren't as good as you'd like I'll take them again after I'm done my N.E.W.T's, if you want. I've already filled out most of the application and I've got the forms for the background check, so I can bring those in as soon as you like…"
Proudfoot suddenly seemed very aware of the rest of the Aurors, who were listening intently to the conversation. Proudfoot clenched and unclenched his jaw as he glanced around.
"I have to speak to Robards," he finally said stiffly. Harry felt his heart leap with hope. It was not an out-and-out rejection.
"No problem," Brigs said. "Tell him I say hello, won't you? He's a close personal friend. Well, we'd best be off, eh Harry? Let us know what Gawain says."
Before Proudfoot or Harry could get another word in, Brigs clamped one of his hands on Harry's shoulder and steered him out of Auror Headquarters. As they strolled down the hall, Harry thought of The Foot's shell-shocked expression and felt guiltily satisfied. They stopped in front of the lift, Brigs looking almost as smug as Harry felt.
"That was brilliant, Mr - I mean, Professor. Thank you," Harry said gratefully. "You didn't have to…"
"Ah, it was worth it to see the look on The Foot's face," Brigs said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "He's not really a bad sort, actually…just a stickler for rules. Feel a bit guilty sometimes, but its great fun to tease him. And I managed to work out a pretty good deal for me in the process…one-on-one Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with Harry Potter? I'll probably learn more from you than you do from me!"
"You really think they'll allow it?" Harry asked anxiously.
"Hm? Oh yeah, did you see all the other boys and girls? Positively giddy at the prospect of having you on board. Robards probably won't give a damn either way, and everyone else in the department will harass The Foot until he lets you in."
"And the other teachers? They'll agree to give me private lessons?"
"I'm positive," Brigs said, tapping the wall next to the lift with his wand. It had still not arrived. "I was talking to McGonagall about you just the other day. She's worried you won't come back at all. I'm sure she'll do anything to have you in school one way or another."
Harry felt elated. It was too good to be true; he would be able to begin his Auror training, but he would not lose all ties to Hogwarts, either. He understood now that this was exactly what he wanted. The school could never be the same for him; it was impossible to go back to breakfast in the Great Hall and studying in the common room and Quidditch practices, but he was not going back in this traditional sense. Parts of Hogwarts would be brand new, and so would his role in it. It was a perfect compromise.
"That was brilliant," Harry repeated. "I don't know how to thank you."
Brigs shrugged. "Didn't you just get rid of that Dark Arts bloke who was trying to run the country?" he said. "I probably still owe you. Ah, here we are."
The golden grilles of the lift slid open and revealed, to Harry's utter surprise, a very familiar, bushy-haired figure clutching a stack of books to her chest.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here? I knew you…" she trailed off and glanced at Brigs. Harry sensed her unvoiced question and nodded to let her know that Brigs was all right. Hermione relaxed and stepped out of the lift.
"I knew you weren't going to be at the house today, but I had no idea you would be coming here," Hermione said, shifting the books in her arms to redistribute their weight. Harry realized that they were not books, but a collection of worn-looking photo albums.
"Yeah, I uh…had to come talk to someone," Harry said vaguely. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything in front of Brigs, whom Harry realized was still standing next to him, looking around the hallway bemusedly. "Hermione, this is Professor Brigstocke. He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts."
"Are you really?" Hermione said breathlessly, sticking out a hand and dropping a few photo albums as she did so. Brigs enveloped her small hand in his large one and shook it enthusiastically.
"I'm Hermione Granger," said Hermione with enthusiasm. "It's a pleasure to meet you - I'm planning on doing my N.E.W.T. in Defense Against the Dark Arts when Hogwarts re-opens."
"Glad to hear it," said Brigs. "Although you hardly need it, I'd reckon, after fighting off Death Eaters and hunting Horcruxes and the like."
Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. She glanced at Harry, her eyes bright. "So does that mean you're going back to Hogwarts too, Harry?"
"It's…I'll talk to you about it later," said Harry hastily. He could not share the opportunity Brigs had given him just yet; it was still fragile and tentative and Harry did not want to jinx it by telling everyone.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Hermione, changing the subject.
"Oh!" said Hermione excitedly, distracted from the question of Harry's possible return to Hogwarts. "You'll never guess, Harry. It turns out that my grandmother knows about magic and my great-grandfather was a wizard and I hadn't the faintest clue until now! And I think he worked for the Ministry in Magical Law Enforcement so I wrote to the secretary of the Wizengamot Administration Offices and she said I could come in today to speak to some people and look through their old files to find out more about him!" She paused to take a deep breath.
"Well," said a slightly overwhelmed Harry. "That's…great, Hermione."
"Isn't it? I should probably get going though, my appointment is at eleven o'clock. I'll see you at the house tomorrow morning? It was so nice to meet you, Professor Brigstocke," Hermione said as she bent down to pick up the photo albums she had dropped. She straightened up, shook Brigs' hand again, gave a wave to Harry, and then hurried down the hall.
Brigs grinned after her. "She's going to be a riot in lesson," he said as he and Harry stepped into the lift.
As the lift shuddered to life, something occurred to Harry. "Professor, if you don't mind me asking - why did you come down here? I know you certainly didn't intend to make a case for me as an Auror trainee…"
"Nah, I was just coming to say hello to some old friends," Brigs answered. "And honestly, I wanted to get a good rise out of The Foot. Haven't done it in years. Good thing you were there."
After saying goodbye to Brigs, Harry found a Disapparating-Friendly zone in the Atrium of the Ministry and Disapparated to Arbour Glen. He materialized in the back garden. It had become habit over the past few weeks to steel himself for the worst when he re-appeared at the house. But the garden was silent and peaceful, as Harry should have known it would be.
He pulled the fake Galleon out of his pocket and tapped it a few times with his wand to send a message to Ron and Hermione. Instead of using the serial numbers on the Galleons to communicate the dates and times of DA meetings, they now used them to spell out messages in numerical code. Harry hesitated and then tapped the Galleon again in a different pattern to send the same message to the Aurors who were carrying Galleons - Williamson, Sri, and presumably Proudfoot. At first he had been resentful of the Aurors' involvement, but with his future as a trainee in Proudfoot's hands, Harry knew that he had to communicate and co-operate with them as much as possible. He felt another thrill at the prospect of starting his training, of doing something useful, of doing what he knew he was meant to do…
It was then that Harry noticed a small figure off in the distance, sitting by the pond near the edge of his property. His hand instinctively went for his wand, although the flaming red hair and lack of screaming Alarm Charms quickly re-assured him. He relaxed and started making his way over, remembering that Mr Weasley had offered to stop by and keep Harry company around lunch hour. It occurred to him now that he could have just met up with Mr Weasley at the Ministry and they could have Disapparated over to Arbour Glen together.
It did not take long for Harry to realize that the figure by the pond was too small to be Mr Weasley. As he drew closer he could see that what he had thought was short red hair was actually long red hair pulled into a low ponytail at the base of a slender, white neck. Harry felt his mouth go dry and his heart kick into overdrive, but his feet kept pulling him forward. Ginny.
He reached the edge of the pond and sat down next to her. Her pants were rolled up to her knees and her feet were dangling in the water. The pond was surrounded by tall grass that eventually gave way to the forest beyond. Harry snapped off a long piece of grass and absently wound it around his hand, desperate for something to do, unsure of what to say.
"Dad couldn't come today," Ginny said abruptly. "He had some things to do at work over lunch. Everyone else is busy, so I came."
"Uh…thanks," Harry said, feeling stupid. He had taken Ginny's presence as a truce, but now it appeared that she had been forced to come. The last time he had seen her was at his birthday party nearly three weeks ago. He never had managed to write her that apology letter. Harry frantically tried to think of something to say; voluntarily or not, she was here, and he needed to make things right.
"I thought I'd give you a couple of weeks," said Ginny, swinging her legs back and forth in the water. She gave him a rueful smile. "Should have known you'd be too thick to apologize."
Harry found his voice. "Ginny, I'm - "
"It was a stupid argument," Ginny said dismissively. "Anyway, then I heard about all this Death Eater nonsense and thought you'd be better off figuring it out with Ron and Hermione. I didn't want to get in the way." She suddenly turned to look at him steadily, and Harry felt his heart jump into his mouth. "But I also don't want you to think that I didn't care."
Although he had sat a respectful distance away from Ginny, Harry felt as though there was something hot and fiery between them, pressing up against him. "I wouldn't think that," Harry said in a low voice. "It's my fault we haven't talked. I'm sorry I didn't write. There was just a lot going on."
"So I've heard," she said. She looked away from him and squinted into the sun. "So have you figured out school yet?"
"Actually…" said Harry, and although he had made a silent pact not to tell anyone about his encounter with Brigs and Proudfoot that morning, he found it pouring out of him. Ginny listened quietly, still swinging her legs slowly back and forth in the water.
"So," Ginny said once he'd finished, "you'll finish your N.E.W.T.'s while doing Auror training? Sounds too good to be true."
"It might be," Harry admitted. "I have no idea if the other teachers will agree to it, and The Foot seems pretty dead set against it."
"I have a feeling it won't be a problem," said Ginny. She dropped her gaze to her feet. "So you're set on this Auror thing, are you?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Ginny met his gaze again. "You're sure that it's what you really want?"
Harry felt the heat of the thing between him and Ginny intensify, lick at his fingers, travel up his arms, until he felt himself burning with his desire to be with her and his desire to bring Dark wizards to justice, rolled into one inseparable ball of flame.
"I want to hunt down every Death Eater who tortured a Muggle, or cursed a Hogwarts student, or took a Muggle-born's wand, or killed an Auror, and put them in Azkaban," Harry burst out fervently. "I want to make sure that Azkaban is safe and secure and that no one who committed a crime walks free. I want to take the Auror Office and make it efficient and whole again. And I want you," he said abruptly, "so…I have to find a way that you'll be…okay with all that other stuff."
There was a long silence punctured only by the sound of Harry's pulse thudding in his ears. It seemed impossibly loud.
"Harry," Ginny said quietly, "do you really think that after all we've been through, I'm going to let anything as stupid as your career choice get in the way of being with you?"
And all of the sudden, finally, he was kissing her. The fiery thing kept burning between them, inflaming all of their kisses, so that Harry's lips were burning as they touched Ginny's. His hands were in her hair, loosened from its ponytail, and he was winding it around his palm like he had done with the tall grass. Then they were in the grass, and he was on top of her, pressing the fiery thing between them into a hot, flat disc. Harry suddenly felt possessed to kiss her neck, and left a trail of burning kisses there too. Everything was on fire; it seemed impossible that the water had not evaporated from her still-dripping bare legs…
Harry suddenly heard footsteps rustling in the tall grass behind them. He quickly rolled off Ginny, his heart hammering in his chest. As he looked up, the only thing that was going through his mind was the mantra, Please don't be Mr Weasley, please don't be Mr Weasley, please don't be Mr Weasley…
"Hello," said Luna Lovegood, looking frankly unembarrassed to be in this situation. "Thought I would pay you a visit today, Harry."
"Luna…hi," Harry managed to gasp out, his heart slowing. "I didn't…we didn't…er…see you there…"
"So you're together again, then?" Luna asked, looking from Harry to Ginny. "I'm so glad. If you weren't it would have been terribly bad for your health, Harry."
Harry looked at Ginny, who was pressing her lips together to keep from laughing. Harry was so relieved that it was Luna, of all people, to have stumbled across them that he felt quite like laughing himself.
"Bad for my health? Why's that, Luna?" Harry asked, expecting some ridiculous answer about the healing properties of the Dillydaisy extract in Ginny's shampoo, or something along those lines.
"Well because of Ronald, of course," said Luna, surprised that Harry did not catch her meaning. "I think he'd have killed you if you'd chucked her again."
Luna stood by the pond, watching them bemusedly, as both Harry and Ginny fell into the grass and burst into uncontrollable, hysterical laughter.
***
Author's Notes: My deepest apologies for such a long wait between updates. I've recently moved to England and have been spending the last little while trying to settle into a new job and a new country. Fortunately, everything is going well and I'm having a blast. Unfortunately, I was unable to locate Diagon Alley in London.
