Chapter 45 – Disturbances and Developments
Cho woke up in her room at her childhood home that Monday morning. There really wasn't much reason to move out, really. Besides, Chinese wizarding tradition dictated that a woman should stay with her parents until she married. While that was a rather archaic practice, it really wasn't the motivating factor. The truth was that she didn't want to live in some lonely flat…and she loved her parents dearly.
After a quick shower, she donned her beloved Auror-issue black fatigues and boots, which she shined meticulously every night whether they needed it or not. One might call her obsessive, but she took her job very seriously and since she would eventually take command of an important unit, she wanted to set an example for her subordinates. Besides—it looked good.
She strapped her wrist holsters onto each arm and made sure her wands clicked securely into place. She had bought a second wand after Mafalda put her in a bed at St Mungo's. Since then, she always carried a spare wand on her left arm—just in case. As she did before she left her room for the day, she surveyed the pictures on her bedside table. Among them was a rather official-looking photo of the entire Auror Office from last year, taken during the DA class training at Hogwarts. Gawain Robards and Auror Williamson, killed in action within weeks of one another, smiled confidently with the others.
Another picture showed Ron's winning duelling team holding up the Alastor Moody's cup in triumph. Cho smiled at the memory of the victory over Harry's team, but was saddened that the attack on Draco Malfoy ruined the awards ceremony at the closing exercises. Still, they'd won the trophy and The Daily Prophet worked up a nice spread about it in a special edition.
Next to it stood a cherished picture of Cho with Cedric at the Yule Ball, resplendent in their dress robes. Cho's vibrant smile lit up the frame while Cedric's shy grin complimented it. It was more than obvious that the two people in that picture had fallen in love. She sighed and touched a finger to Cedric's face. Although her relationship with him lay in her past now, she chose to remember the good times rather than his cruel and untimely end that had plagued her for four years.
She was finally able to put that behind her when Harry showed her his Pensieve memory of the night Cedric was murdered in cold blood by a cowardly Death Eater by the name of Peter Pettigrew—the same miscreant who betrayed Harry's parents to his master. But she wouldn't dwell on that because Voldemort's evil may have taken Cedric from her, but he couldn't take her precious memories of their times together.
The last picture on the bedside table was of Cho, Susan and Lav during their training at Hogwarts. She hadn't known them well while they were mainstream students from different Houses, but once they'd begun Auror training, they formed a close friendship. With another nostalgic smile, she picked up her maroon Auror's robes and left the room, casting an over-the-shoulder charm on her bed to make itself.
"My Lotus flower," Cho's father greeted her as she appeared in the kitchen. He and his wife were immensely proud of their daughter. She'd always been bright, which got her sorted into Ravenclaw. Good looks, and her skill on a broom that earned her a place on the Ravenclaw House Quidditch team, had made her a popular student, but they also knew that her self-image had been dominated by insecurity hampered by strong emotions, often bringing forth tears in her younger years. Cedric's death had devastated her and her crush and brief relationship with Harry had confused her. But she finally faced her demons and fought valiantly at the Battle of Hogwarts.
When Cho first took on Auror training, her parents doubted she'd make it. But something about that training produced a confident and strong young witch in their daughter. With her emotions under control and her Seeker reflexes honed, she'd become a top-notch Auror, knocked out of the individual Duelling Tournament by Harry Potter and finished among the final eight. Had she drawn Draco Malfoy, she would surely have made the final four. Her parents were sure of that.
"Good morning Dad. Mum," Cho replied brightly. "I only have time for a quick breakfast. I have to report for duty in twenty minutes."
"Will you be back this evening," her mum asked.
"Dunno yet. I might kip at Lav's," Cho said ."I'll send my swan to let you know."
Cho's parents couldn't help but smile a bit at Cho's comment, send my swan, like it was the most mundane thing for her to do. Few wizards and witches could actually produce a corporeal Patronus, and few of them ever learned Albus Dumbledore's method to carry messages.
Auror Cho Chang finished her breakfast while they talked about the main stories in The Daily Prophet. Cho knew her task to train and command a Broomborne unit would be announced soon, with the last detail set with the Hogwarts staff late that Friday. "All right, I'd better be off then," Cho said after finishing her tea and summoned her maroon Auror's robe from the chair across the room.
"Stay safe, my daughter," her mum said, kissing Cho's cheek before the fireplace.
"I will," Cho replied, vanishing in a burst of green flames.
Cho quickly found her way through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic to the stairs, which she and the Aurors preferred over the lift, and took them at double-quick time to Level Two. She opened the door to the Auror Office—Merlin knew how many memos Harry would have to send to rename their force Auror Corps—only two minutes before her shift started.
"Lotus, the Chief's asked forr ye to rreport immediately tae the Den," Jock told her with a carefully-masqued grin. The Den was the informal term for the Auror training facilities for which Jock had been assigned unofficial caretaker. Cho jogged down the corridor with Jock two steps behind her. For an older man, Andrew Jock Thompson kept amazingly fit and could hold his own against the youngsters who had taken over the force. Stepping into the room, she stopped short when she found every Auror on the force, along with Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, DMLE Head Arthur Weasley, and the American Liaison, Marshall Jayce Silvercloud.
"Attention," Irish barked. The Aurors quickly snapped to in two ranks with their wands raised in ceremonial salute. Opposite Cho stood Kingsley, Arthur and Harry, who wore a mischievous grin on his face. He'd planned this little surprise for her and signalled her forward as crisply as his mischievous self would allow. Uncertain what to expect, Cho stepped smartly along the lines of Aurors, each dropping their wands in a precise movement as she passed.
This seems to be some kind of ceremony. But what for? Cho stopped in front of the distinguished trio and stood at attention, back straight, chest out, and head held high.
"Auror Cho Chang," Harry began officiously. "The Minister will dispatch an owl this morning with a press release about the Auror Training Program. There is, however, one piece of information that is in need of correction. Minister, if you please, sir."
Cho's eyes shifted to the Minister for Magic, still not understanding what this fuss over a press-release could have to do with her.
"The part in need of correction reads: The Auror Training Program will include a new branch of Aurors, a Broomborne unit. This is unheard of in Wizarding law-enforcement history and the responsibility for commanding and training this unit is Auror Lieutenant Cho Chang." Kingsley stopped reading and let his words sink in. A moment later, Cho gasped as she realised she had just received a promotion.
Arthur Weasley stepped forward. "Auror Cho Chang, it is my great pleasure, based on your excellent display of field command and on the recommendation of Head Auror Harry Potter and Assistant Head Ronald Weasley, to promote you the office of Auror Lieutenant. Congratulations, Lieutenant Chang."
As Arthur finished, Harry stepped forward. "Your primary duty as Auror Lieutenant will be to train and command the Broomborne unit." Harry declared with authority. "Your fliers will provide air cover for ground forces should we ever find ourselves engaged in war." As he spoke, he hooked another badge over her Auror's one. It was the Broomborne insignia, depicting a broomstick crossed with a wand. Harry had asked Dean Thomas to design it, which he'd been more than happy to do.
Harry gave Cho a smirk and a wink as he decided there'd been enough formality for one morning. "Well done, Cho, and congratulations," Harry said and gave her a hug before he faced the rest of the Aurors. "All right, you tossers! Let the hugging and kissing commence!" Harry didn't need to make that an order or say it twice. The Aurors gathered around Cho to congratulate her.
Finally they collected themselves and waited for Cho to say something. "I-I'm overwhelmed and totally surprised. I didn't expect a promotion, and this ceremony... it was brilliant. Thank you, everyone!"
"The promotion was the Chief's and Red's idea," Seamus said. "And the Minister and Mr Weasley approved it straightaway. As for the ceremony, a lot o' credit goes ta Yank over there."
Jayce grinned. The Aurors had called him Yank ever since Terry Boot had come up with it during his introduction to the Auror Office. At least he'd retaliated by giving Terry his nickname, Limey.
"I'll do my best with the Broombournes. But first of all, this qualifies as an excuse to celebrate. The Leaky, eight o'clock this evening, the first round is on me!"
"I'm glad you have your priorities worked out Lieutenant Lotus," Tony grinned.
Once normal operations resumed, Cho sent her swan to her parents. "I suggest you pick up a copy of The Evening Prophet. There'll be an article about Auror Lieutenant Chang and her new duties. I'll tell you more later, but needless to say, there'll be a wee bit of celebrating this evening. I will definitely kip at Lav's tonight."
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The following morning, Harry and Ron opened their shared office, each wondering if the celebration of Cho's promotion had caused anyone to oversleep. Inside the doors, they could hear Cho, Susan and Lavender giggling.
"... you can at least admit you'll see him again, can't you," Susan said.
Cho huffed loudly.
"Ladies," Harry greeted them. "Had an interesting night, did we?"
Lavender and Susan seemed all too eager to enlighten Harry and Ron. "Well, once the three of us left Leaky yesterday, we felt like celebrating a bit more. So we decided to head into Muggle London and…see the sights," Susan reported.
"It's always nice to blend into the crowd a way we can't in a Wizarding setting," Lavender added.
Harry and Ron nodded in agreement, well aware of the attention their presence garnered. Susan and Lavender were now easily recognisable since their performance in the tournament and Cho still held second place on the Most-Beautiful-Witch list.
"And in Muggle London you met someone Cho should see again," Ron asked slyly.
"That's what we're trying to coax out of her," Lavender said, breaking into another round of giggles.
"Anyway, we ended up in a night club and met two perfectly charming blokes," Susan said.
"I let Lotus and Bonesy have a go at them, because I'm not ready to flirt and date just yet," Lavender explained. She referred to her failed relationship with Seamus. They had both moved on and were on speaking terms again, but Lavender still wasn't ready to take an interest in men.
"And…" Ron pressed.
"Like I said—they were perfectly charming, but the one I was talking to paled when I said I was in special forces, same as my friends," Susan said. "But he hung around because his friend and Cho appeared to hit it off."
"About ruddy time, I'd say. Who did you last date, Chang," Lavender asked. "It was Michael Corner, right?"
"C'mon, I only dated him in a ridiculous attempt to make Harry jealous. It was ages ago. And Harry's and my date can hardly qualify as a date, really. In fact, it was a disaster."
"What she said," Harry agreed.
"So you haven't dated properly in five years," Susan concluded. "Like Miss Brown pointed out: it's about ruddy time. So…when do you see him again?"
"All right, all right. He's taking me to dinner tonight," Cho grunted. "But I had to decide something face-to-face at the night club. He's a Muggle, for crying out loud, and can't contact me on the Muggle version of the Floo."
"So who is this poor sod anyway," Ron asked and then grunted as Harry elbowed him in the ribs.
"... unsuspecting victim?" Harry elbowed him again. "... lucky bloke?"
"He's none of your business, that's what, you smarmy git," Cho declared. "And if any of you lot think it might be funny to hone your skills at tracking and concealment by following me around after work today, I'll hone my understanding of curses by trying a few of them out on you."
"C'mon, let Cho have her date in peace and we'll just get a betting pool going," Harry grinned.
"I don't know if I should thank you, Harry, or try out a few of those curses right now," Cho hissed.
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George Weasley left The Leaky Cauldron and turned south on Charing Cross Road. He walked to Trafalgar Square where his eyes fell not on Nelson's column, but on the stunning beauty waiting for him at the base of the London landmark. "Angie," George shouted, waving his hand over his head. He picked up his stride to take her into a loving embrace.
They joined hands and walked casually toward the Thames. Angie led her boyfriend into Embankment Tube Station to travel eastbound on the District Line to Upton Park. "Tell me again, why aren't we just Apparating," George asked as Angelina guided him to the platform.
"There's a match on Boleyn Ground today and there'll be Muggles all over. C'mon, George."
Angelina and George boarded the train and found seats next to one another. George took his girlfriend's hand in his and held it firmly. What's with him today? "Nervous?"
"Uh…these things are safe, right," he asked.
Angelina giggled and George sighed in relief about blaming his nervousness on the Tube. Actually, they were on their way to visit Angelina's parents. George had met them several times, and Angelina's father commanded respect. Decatur Johnson stood well over two metres tall—taller than Ron—and could, in many ways, be compared to Hagrid in size, although the Half-giant was much bigger. Decatur's voice registered very low and had really frightened George the first time he'd been introduced, Caribbean accent notwithstanding.
"So, you ah de mon snoggin' mah Angel," Decatur asked dangerously.
George paled as beads of sweat formed on his brow. "Erm…"
At that moment, Decatur Johnson burst into laughter. Angelina's father had successfully taken the Mickey out of George, all too aware of his imposing character. In truth, Decatur—or Rasta, as Angelina called him—turned out to be a very gentle man. George hardly believed that such a man worked as a Kindergarten teacher in the East End. Looks like the big brother of Charlie's mates from Romania.
Next to him, Angie and her mum, Roxanne, laughed at his expense, too. Roxanne was a witch about Ginny's size and George had asked himself how, in the name of Merlin's overgrown greenhouse, the couple had managed to conceive Angelina. Did she magically reduce him in size—or expand herself?
George's mind returned to the present. He smiled confidently Angelina, happy he'd hit it off with her that New Year's Eve at Harry's and Ginny's party. George grabbed an issue of The London Evening Standard left by someone on the seat next to him. The Muggle news made little sense to him and the static images that didn't move seemed so outlandish. "Angie, do you follow the Muggle news?"
"Not really. Once I got to Hogwarts, I began my life in our world. My mum keeps track of Muggle events, of course, since she's married to one, and they chose to live in a Muggle neighbourhood. Have you suddenly taken an interest in the Muggle world?"
"No, I leave that for Dad and Ronnie. I just wondered because of this paper."
Angelina looked at him, cocking her head to the left. "George, love—I've been meaning to ask you how it's working out with Verity in the lab."
George grinned wickedly. "You know, there's a reason she applied for a job in a joke shop," he began. "She's really brilliant with anything potions-related and she's amazing at charms. But there's quite a prankster about to be hatched, thanks to you, Onie and Verity talking me into this. We'll be able to develop a whole new range of witch pranks a bloke wouldn't think of."
"So she stays in the lab," Angelina smiled.
"Ruddy hell she does," George confirmed. "And she's impressed the pants off Professor Slughorn. He's thrilled with her work and all but told her Snape was an idiot not to take her on."
"Well…we knew that," Angelina smirked. "So what exactly has she come up with?"
George blushed crimson. "She has a few ideas for prank cosmetics—Freaky Foundation, Lip-locking Lipstick, Marauding Mascara..."
"Marauding mascara," Angelina asked with a giggle. "Should I be afraid?"
"I dunno, but Verity claims she imbued it with a minor glamour charm, giving you big, irresistible puppy eyes like Daisy Duck. Can't say I know Daisy, but when I tried it..."
"You tried it," Angelina interrupted. "George!"
"I always try every product." George said. "It's been a WWW policy since Fred and I started the business back before sixth year."
"Even Marauding Mascara?"
"Especially that, since it's stuff that'll be sold under the Weasley name, but nothing I'd have ever been able to come up with on my own," George reasoned. "There'll be a special shelf with Verity's name and everything, but it's still a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product."
"And Freaky Foundation?"
"Gives the victim blisters."
"And Lip-locking Lipstick?"
"That's Verity's shiniest gem so far. The unknowing victim applies it, and when she kisses her date, their lips lock together. A simple Finite or a couple of minutes' wait..."
"And how in hell would you know about that? You certainly didn't try that out with me," Angelina huffed.
"No, Verity and I..." George said without realising how that came out.
"You kissed Verity?"
George looked flabbergasted at his girlfriend. "Are you daft? Of course I didn't. We applied it to our fingers and got them locked together, and then Verity tested it with her boyfriend to see that there were no hiccups."
Angelina blushed. "Sorry, George. I just never dreamed you'd kiss Verity…and it scared me a little."
"You're the only one for me, Angie, you know that," George assured her gently, caressing her cheek.
"Oh, George," Angelina cooed and kissed him. "But Verity has a boyfriend? I didn't know that."
"Well, it's still not really official, but you know the young bloke at Eeylop's," he asked and Angelina nodded. "But don't tell anyone, all right? She only told me because I said I'd try the lipstick with you, but she wanted to do it first since it's her invention."
"So a feminine touch to WWW isn't all that bad then," Angelina asked with a grin.
"It's brilliant. Verity has tons of ideas," George said.
Soon enough the stopped at Upton Park Tube Station and they got off the train. There were a lot of people heading up, and once outside the station, George could see that Angelina had been right. There were Muggles everywhere heading for the match. Any attempt to Apparate would've risked exposure to the Muggles.
"So, who are playing," George asked Angelina, knowing next to nothing about Muggle football.
"West Ham for sure, since it's their stadium, but against whom I don't know. I'm a Quidditch fan, you know."
"West Ham. That's the lot Dean in Ron's and Harry's year supports, isn't it?"
"Dean Thomas," Angelina asked and George nodded. "Sure, his family lives not far from my parents. Mum even had him in her Arts Class before he started Hogwarts."
Roxanne Johnson taught Arts in the public schools and had often said Dean Thomas was a very talented young student of hers until he disappeared to a private boarding school in Scotland at age eleven. It wasn't until several years later that Roxanne had learned that Dean was a wizard and he, in turn, learned that Mrs Johnson was Angelina's mum, and that she was a witch. George hadn't asked why Angelina's mum had a Muggle job, but he knew Mrs Johnson to be a wicked good housekeeper and really good at Muggle-repelling charms and other handy spells to keep their world secret, since they often entertained Muggle guests in their home.
Angelina and George got off the train and were virtually the only ones not heading to the football match. Instead, they turned into a street with identical brick houses, not unlike Privet Drive, and knocked on the door at Number Seven.
Decatur opened the door and burst into a smile as big as the man himself. "Angel," he boomed and gave his daughter a hug. "Gawge, she's treatin' you all right, mon?"
"She keeps me in line," George replied with a grin, shaking Decatur's hand.
"Come in, den. Come in. Roxy's fixin' dinnah for us and I'm helpin' by stayin' out of de way," he chuckled.
True enough. When a house witch fixed dinner, things tended to fly about. With a rather cramped kitchen and a very big husband, he had better stay away. Soon enough they were seated in the living room with the telly tuned to the match, which was about to begin. Roxanne stepped in briefly to welcome her daughter and her boyfriend before returning to her cooking.
"Angel can conjure some tea if you'd like," Decatur said.
"Sure, Rasta. Tea for three?"
The two men nodded and Angelina flicked her wand, conjuring a pot of tea, three cups and milk from the kitchen. Sipping their cuppa, George updated Decatur on the new line of female products Verity developed.
"Wid all dat datin' goin' on in Hogsmeade, you'll sure sell loads of dat stuff up dere, right," Decatur assumed.
"We hope so, and if they use it in the village, Filch can put the products on his ruddy Banned List all he wants," Angelina giggled. "In fact, why don't we send the old Squib a sample box to help him out?"
"Uh-uh," George disagreed. "We've got us a tidy band of hellions to do that job for us."
"So we do," Angelina replied conspiratorially. "So we do."
Soon enough, the two men were caught up in the football match. George found it fascinating, although Quidditch, in his opinion, was far better.
"I'll just go and help Mum, shall I," Angelina said, banishing the teapot and the cups to the kitchen.
Once she left, George took a deep breath and turned to Decatur. "Sir, you know I've been together with Angelina for over a year now," he began.
Something in George's voice and the title, sir, sounded rather serious. "Yes," he replied guardedly, eyeing his daughter's boyfriend suspiciously.
"Right. Well, lately I've been thinking that we're rather committed to each other."
"George, you're sweating," Decatur observed, suppressing his Jamaican accent. "What is it you're trying to say?"
"That she's the girl, and that I'd like…to marry her," George confessed with a tremble in his voice. "Sir, I'm asking for your permission to propose to her."
Decatur considered George carefully and donned the masque of the protective father. "I take it you're shagging my daughter, then," he said coldly, his voice dropping lower than usual.
George felt a rare Weasley blush rise in his face, which was a rarity for him. "Well," George coughed, not intending to lie, but not revealing his and Angelina's private life either. "She's not… in the family way, sir. I love her—that's why I want to marry her."
Decatur glared at him for a few moments. Then he broke into laughter. "Ah had you dere, didn't I," Decatur boomed joyfully, happy to prank the prankster. "Listen heah, son. If you, for one minute, tink my puhmission is needed, by all means you have it. But don' let dem, Roxy an' Angie dat is, know you ahsked me or dey'll turn into doze Hahpy tings dey tell me about."
George sighed in relief. "Thank you, sir."
"If you don't stop callin' me sah, I'll tek dat blessin' bahk," the big man grinned. "Decatah is all right. Doc or Rasta is fine too. When ah you plannin' on poppin' de question?"
"I haven't quite decided, but it'll be soon," George promised his future father-in-law. Very soon.
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"Dennis, what is it," Jessica asked her boyfriend. After supper, they set off on a walk around the lake and found themselves cuddled together under the birch tree Harry and Ginny had commandeered a few years ago as sixth- and fifth-year Hogwarts students.
Dennis Creevey, son of a Muggle milkman and younger brother of a dead war-hero, didn't reply. In fact, he hadn't even heard Jessica's question. His mind reeled with the possibilities following the Aurors' presentation a few weeks before.
"Dennis? Dennis," Jessica shouted, causing the brown-haired boy to jump in alarm.
"What? What's wrong," he asked, looking around cautiously, wand drawn.
"Take it easy, Love," Jessica said quietly, placing her hand on his wand-arm. "You sort of zoned out there for a bit. I asked you a question."
"Merlin, Jess. I'm sorry. I was just thinking," Dennis replied apologetically. "What was your question?"
Jessica gazed into Dennis' clear brown eyes. "I asked you what's going on. You've been so distant lately—like there's something on your mind. Evidently, there is. What is it?"
"I…I was just thinking about what Ron told us," he explained. "About the Auror Training Program—namely, the Broombourne unit."
"You want to take the entrance exam, don't you," Jessica surmised.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I think I can get in," he said. "I want this, Jess. I want to be somebody in this world. My family's Muggle, but Colin and I—we're…I'm—"
"You are a wizard, Dennis; Colin was a wizard," Jessica finished. "You've chosen to live in our world, then?"
"I think so," Dennis said. "I mean, I love my parents, but their world isn't mine. Jess, Colin and I never fit in when we were little. I know Colin was a bit…excitable…"
"And camera-happy," Jessica added with a nostalgic smile.
Dennis couldn't help but let go a chuckle. "And camera-happy. But there was more to it than that. We couldn't relate to the other kids, you know? Their games weren't our games. Then when Colin got his Hogwarts letter…everything sort of fell into place."
Jessica considered her boyfriend's words. As a Pureblood witch, there was never any doubt as to where her life would go or how she would get there. She couldn't imagine the plight of the Muggleborns who had to make a choice like that. For Dennis to have chosen the Wizarding world as his world meant leaving his family behind, in a way. They could never understand the exhilaration that came from soaring through the air on a broom or the thrill of successfully brewing a difficult potion that could save a life, or the rush of a magical duel. It made perfect sense—Colin and Dennis couldn't relate.
"How did you feel when your Hogwarts letter came," she asked.
"Excited….relived," he replied with a wan smile. "Scared out of my wits."
"Dennis, even I was scared out of my wits," Jessica laughed. "All of us were—even the Golden Trio…and Ginny."
"But it's different for us Muggleborns, Jess," Dennis argued. "You grew up hearing about Hogwarts from Alicia and your parents, but we knew nothing until our letters came. My parents thought it was a joke until Professor McGonagall showed up on our doorstep to talk to them about Colin."
"It must've been scary for you," she acquiesced.
"At first, yeah," Dennis replied. "But…once we got here, it felt like—home."
"You mean to tell me that being picked out of the Black Lake by the Giant Squid didn't scare you," she asked. "I mean, come on, Dennis!"
Dennis burst into laughter. "No, actually. I was more scared of the water than the Squid! I'm not exactly the strongest of swimmers, you know. But I think it was more the excitement of coming here and learning magic with my brother that drove me. And then second year, when Harry started the DA—it was everything I dreamed magic could be!"
"The DA. Yeah, I wish I'd joined, but Alicia thought I was too little," Jessica said. "Maybe if I had, I could've fought…"
"Jess," Dennis said, placing his left index and middle fingers over her lips. "Jess, don't beat yourself up about that. There were seven boys on one girl. You didn't have a chance." Dennis' face morphed from gentleness to fierce anger in the blink of an eye.
"Dennis, please—calm down. Don't get all worked up over that. It's over," she said softly, hoping to assuage the boy's wrath. "You and the others found me in time and I'm here—safe and whole."
"Jess, I think we need to start up the DA again," Dennis said decidedly. "I know I'm not the only one thinking about taking the ATP entrance exam. If we want to pass it, we need to be in top condition, magically and physically."
"It's more than that, though, isn't it," Jessica guessed, judging by the change in his comportment. His eyes held a steely glare and his jaw set with determined purpose.
"No, it's not," he confessed. "There's something in the air and it feels like it did in '95 just before the war really escalated. Remember how tense we all were when the Prophet reported all that dodgy stuff about Harry and Professor Dumbledore and how people started disappearing when the truth came out? It's like that."
"But Dennis, Vol—he's gone and so are his Death Eaters. How can that happen again?" Jessica wasn't sure where Dennis was headed with this line of thought, but she wanted to find out.
"No, not Voldemort," Dennis corrected her. "But the feeling is the same. I'm talking about that ELF-thing that Senior Undersecretary Gumboil started. Stiles and his gang are all Muggleborn sons of ELF-members."
"Then that attack against Malfoy at the tournament and the article in Witch Weekly," Jessica said, catching on. "Dennis, do you think there's going to be another war?"
"Not a war like we just had, but a sort of war," he said. "I mean, we've had a riot at a House Quidditch match, the attack on you at Halloween, and a zillion fights in the corridors since. Even Miss Onie and Professor Watson had a fight."
"When did this happen," Jessica enquired. "I didn't hear anything about a fight between staffers."
Dennis grinned like a shark. "Seamus told us one night," he said just under a whisper. "He had just come back to Hogwarts for his shift here when he came upon Watson and Onie having it out about the way he treated the situation with you and the match riot. Seamus said that Professor Watson didn't take any of it seriously, which really hacked Onie off, since she had to put injured students back together. I guess that Slytherin bloke, Felton, nearly died at St Mungo's because he threw himself in front of a load of firsties and took a nasty curse for them."
"I remember that! There were like three older students who had to be taken to hospital," Jessica realised.
"Yes, and then there was you," Dennis added darkly. "Seamus said that Watson didn't think there was any harm done because they never got to…to…you know. Seamus said Onie called Watson a polecat or something."
"So that's what she was crying about one night," Jessica guessed. "I was still recovering when she came in madder than a Hippogriff with a toothache, sniffing and wiping her eyes. I pretended to be asleep."
"That was probably it," Dennis said. "But the point is that we need to start up the DA again so we can learn to defend ourselves in case something terrible happens. We've got a couple of brilliant Pureblood twins in Gryffindor House who've been harassed by a few 'Puffs. Pointer's been given a hard time about his relationship with one of them as well."
"The Snakes have taken to moving in at least pairs, if not threes and fours, and there's almost always an older student with the younger ones," Jessica said. "I've seen Felton and a couple of others escorting them to class and to the Great Hall for meals."
"So what do you think," Dennis asked her. "Should we see about resurrecting the DA?"
"Yeah. You owl Harry and Ron about permission, since it was their club in the beginning and I'll ask McGonagall if the school will sanction it as an official student organisation like the Gobstones Club or the First Aid Club," Jessica suggested. "But we shouldn't call it Dumbledore's Army anymore."
"Why?"
"Because it's not about that anymore," Jessica explained. "Dumbledore's gone and things are different than they were then. The old DA was about rebelling against Umbridge, right?"
"Well…yeah, sort of. But the fifth- and seventh-years wouldn't have passed their OWLs and NEWTs without it. They weren't learning anything in DADA under that old toad," Dennis explained.
"Exactly. But that's not an issue anymore. The Ministry isn't interfering and we have a really good DADA professor, even if he is a bit of a berk. We're doing this so those of us wishing to take the ATP entrance exam are ready for it, but mostly because we need to defend ourselves. Stiles' lot is proof of that."
"Those of us," Dennis asked with a slight grin. "Are you—"
"Of course, you silly prat," Jessica said, slapping his arm. "Do you seriously think I would let you join a squadron of flying Aurors without me?"
Dennis stared at her in stunned disbelief. After all she'd been through, she wanted to pit herself against the best and strongest Hogwarts had to offer to train for such a dangerous career. "You mean it?"
"Yes, Dennis. I do. Do you have a problem with that," she snapped.
"Jessica," Dennis began.
"What," she replied huffily.
"Will you marry me?"
"Prat."
The two sixth-years fell upon one another laughing and snuggling under the birch tree near the lake. "I'm serious," Dennis said.
"I know," Jessica replied. "Ask me again this time next year. I'll say yes then."
"Promise?"
"Mm-hmm. Now shut up and kiss me," she giggled.
Dennis lifted her chin with his left thumb and index finger so that he could gaze into her dark brown eyes. "I love you, Jessica Spinnet, and I do want you to marry me. I mean it." He lowered his face and captured her honey-flavoured lips with his, moving his mouth over hers while he pulled her into his lap.
Jessica melted into Dennis' embrace and moaned her pleasure as he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips to admit his seeking tongue. In the Muggle world, their love would be near-taboo in many instances. In fact, she wasn't sure how Dennis' Muggle family would take it. But it didn't matter. Dennis Creevey and Jessica Spinnet were in love and nothing would drive them apart—not blood-status, not race, not even war. "I love you too, Dennis Creevey."
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Ron and Hermione broke apart from a long and deep kiss. "Be careful, all right?" Ron said. "If anything happens, don't be reckless."
"I'm never reckless," Hermione assured him. "You know that."
"You married me," Ron countered with a smirk.
"Well, every rule has an exception," Hermione said, planting another kiss on Ron's lips.
"It's just that I don't trust Dumbponce," Ron grumbled.
"Dumbponce? That's a new one," Hermione giggled. "I don't trust that git for one second either, and neither do Seamus and Dean. But this is a meeting for all members of ELF. We're going to debate the latest developments, and since my proposal won the majority of the Wizengamot I have to be there. I might have to defend the secrecy surrounding our Horcrux hunt."
"I know 'Mione. I'm just worried," Ron confessed. "He's gone barmier and barmier with each passing day."
"I shall take that as a token of your affection, and for that, you shall be rewarded tonight, Mr Weasley," Hermione giggled.
"Promise," Ron intimated slyly.
"Like I could keep my hands off you, you great lummox," Hermione replied and kissed him again. "Now, I really must go." She left her husband standing in their bedroom, fighting the temptation to borrow Harry's cloak and follow her. The only thing stopping him was the fact that if she caught him out, there'd be a row rather than a romance. No, he'd have to trust Seamus and Dean to look after her and keep her safe.
Hermione Apparated to a point on the outskirts of the Forest of Dean, where she found Seamus and Dean waiting for her. The two friends took their places on either side of her and together, they walked into the woods. "Gumboil put up a tent in a massive clearin' not far from here," Seamus said. "There was a strange storm here last autumn that created it, but it's a great meetin' place."
Hermione tried not to blush, since she knew exactly how that clearing had been created. Harry and Ginny lost control over their bond temporarily and levelled the trees for a 10-metre radius. Soon enough, they entered the clearing where an inconspicuous-looking tent stood, lights glowing through the canvas. Just outside the entrance sat a man in Muggle clothing, working a rather thick stick with a small knife. He spoke not a word, but paused long enough to nod them inside and then returned to his work.
Hermione, Seamus and Dean stepped inside the tent and were amazed to find a meeting hall as big as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and it was three-quarters full and buzzing with all manner of voices—male and female, young and old. ELF had certainly grown in popularity. The attack on Malfoy had made it more than clear that the issues with the Death Eater families had not been resolved satisfactorily with the end of the war, and the debate in the Wizengamot showed that there was significant support for the abolition of inherited seats on that governing body. Hermione, Seamus and Dean found seats at the rear of the hall and waited for the meeting to begin.
Fifteen minutes later, Alastor Gumboil rose and turned to face the gathered crowd. He smiled and raised his hands, calling them to attention. "Welcome, friends, to this meeting of the Equality and Liberation Federation. We're here tonight to discuss the best ways to keep working for true justice in our community. As you all know, the Wizengamot has decided to form a committee tasked with the review our laws and determine what changes we must make to modernize Wizarding Britain. I intend to be on that committee. I'd be most eager to hear Madame baroness Black's thoughts on this committee, since it was her suggestion. Madame Black?"
Hermione's heart nearly leapt from her chest. She hadn't prepared a speech and wasn't prepared for the verbal attack Gumboil had made, however slight. She also noticed he'd used her Pureblood title, which wasn't a welcome thing in this setting. She had no doubt he'd still be a bit grumpy about losing the vote, but Hermione hadn't seen this coming. Everyone turned their attention to her, most displaying expressions of abject distrust.
"C'mon Hermione. Show that git you're a Gryffindor and the brightest witch alive." Dean whispered.
Hermione felt strengthened by Dean's support, which meant a lot to her since they weren't that close. She stood up and walked confidently to the front of the hall. She shot a glare at a snidely grinning Gumboil before she turned to face the collective ELF body. She's upset, and that makes her all the more desirable.
"I suppose most of you heard the debate in the Wizengamot on the wireless," Hermione began, receiving a positive response in the form of nods and an approving buzz. "I stand for what I said then. I want change as much as you do, but we can't bring it on too fast. It's necessary for outdated laws to be changed, yes, but it'll take careful consideration to ensure that the new laws are just and fair for everyone."
One man in the crowd shouted from the back of the hall. "Shut up, you Pureblood pawn. You've married into their lot and even taken on their posh titles!"
Oh yes. Very good. I couldn't have phrased that better myself. Despite Gumboil's infatuation with Hermione, her eloquence in outclassing him before the Wizengamot still annoyed him. I'll bloody show her...
"Look I think we should be very happy about the support we had from the House of Greengrass. If we can bridge the gap the wars have created between us Muggleborns and the Pureblood elite, we can lay a good foundation on which to build a lasting peace. I for one would rather see that peace built over the course of a few of years, rather than slapped together with ill-conceived and rashly-implemented notions that threaten to tear us further apart," Hermione declared with a confident voice.
Some members of ELF seemed to agree with her, but much to Gumboil's pleasure, the next question was the obvious one. People were so predictable. "But you're a part of Potter's plan to gain power, Mrs Weasley," someone else called from the middle of the crowd. "Gumboil's got the right ideas. Change now, not later!"
Hermione sighed. She had no intention of telling these people that she'd been adopted into the House of Black and placed in her seat in order to keep the Wizengamot seat out of the hands of Pureblood supremacists. "I don't represent ELF in the Wizengamot. And yes, it's a fact I'm in an inherited seat because my brother, Harry Potter, asked me to sit it." Hermione paused and let the mention of Harry's name sink in. It had a most-positive effect. "I won't even bother to comment on the rot published by Witch Weekly. If any of you here wish to believe that Harry is seeking power, let me remind you that he declined the position of Chief Warlock, which was something Mr Gumboil himself proposed. Wouldn't that make him a part of Potter's plot too?"
Damn, she's good. And amazingly beautiful. What's a Veela compared to her? All eyes turned to Gumboil. "Thank you, Hermione, for that clarification," Gumboil said. He didn't register Hermione's displeasure at his use of her first name, since his eyes were fixed on her chest rather than her face. "I believe Mr Potter would have served us well as Chief Warlock, but I can't help but ask myself what he, Mr Weasley and then-Miss Granger are hiding. After all, their secrets hold the power to defeat the worst dark wizard in history, and who knows what that power can be used for now, with the threat of Voldemort gone?"
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. Gumboil's ability to praise Harry and criticize him at the same time amazed her, but disconcerted her at the same time. "That power was nothing but love," she huffed. "Lily Potter's love for her son spared Harry's, life and his love for us protected us after he survived the killing curse…again. It's not some mysterious power that can be wielded to gain power in the Wizengamot or at the Ministry or in any other political arena." Hermione had considered her words to reveal nothing that hadn't already been mentioned in The Daily Prophet.
"You've heard it yourselves from a member of our own esteemed organisation, the sister of Harry Potter," Gumboil declared. "We have nothing to fear from our Head Auror. The article printed in Witch Weekly is rubbish." Somehow his tone made the statement sound the exact opposite to what he actually said. Hermione returned to her seat.
"What's he on about," Seamus asked suspiciously.
"I think he wants the members to think that Gumboil's the only one they can trust. Purebloods are dirt, Potter's power hungry and anyone close to him can't be trusted. I bet he's about to tell us what to do," Hermione said confidently. If there was anything Hermione was good at, it was reading people and using that ability to suss out their true motives. At the beginning of fifth year, she knew instantly that the Ministry sought to interfere at Hogwarts the moment Dolores Umbridge opened her mouth at the Welcoming Feast. She had been right and their fifth year was a living Hell.
Gumboil thought the time was right to issue his objective. "I want to urge you to write to Madame Bones and tell her which representatives you'd like to see on the committee. If I'm selected, I will keep working for the abolition of inherited seats on the Wizengamot, and I shall also propose an investigation into Potter's dodgy business. I say: Justice will be served, truth will be told!" The last part he said with force and authority.
"Justice will be served, truth will be told," the crowd cried in response.
"Justice will be served, truth will be told," Gumboil said and encouraged the crowd to chant the phrase again and again until the sound of the united voices became a deafening roar. "Justice will be served, truth will be told!"
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Later that evening Hermione sat cuddled up with Ron in the sitting room of the Burrow. Harry sat with Ginny close to him, while Dean and Seamus sat in armchairs. "I tell you, it was creepy. When they started yelling Justice will be served, truth will be told! I couldn't help thinking about the Nazi tag lines," Hermione said. "They had very catchy slogans like, Sieg heil, or Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer. The bloody git had a hard-on from listening to people worship his speech."
"Blimey, Hermione! I didn't think you talked like that," Dean said in surprise. "But I agree. It was scary. He told everyone to support him exclusively, without actually coming out and saying it."
"And his way o' speakin' both highly and derogatorily of you Harry is, sorry ta say, brilliant," Seamus added.
Hermione nodded. "He must be considered appreciative of you defeating Voldy, but at the same time he needs to imply that the article in Witch Weekly is based in fact."
Ginny had merely contented herself to listen thus far, hoping to understand what the three ELF plants had reported. Ginny wasn't the one to be the most vocal person about politics, but when she had something to say it was often brilliant. As soon as she spoke, the others immediately listened.
"He obviously planned this meeting in detail, right down to the snide commentary about Harry and how you three beat Voldemort. He manipulated you into addressing the crowd, anticipated what you would say—apparently correctly—and then twisted your words to bring ELF to worship him as the sole voice of reason and hope for justice."
They sat in silence contemplating Ginny's conclusion. "Yeah, that about sums it up," Seamus agreed.
"And a load of people who were there will tell their friends how amazing Gumboil is and what a worthy organisation ELF is," Dean added.
Seamus nodded. "And that's the best way to gain more support. I'd take the word of a mate over the word of a slimy politician any day of the week."
"And that'll put further pressure on the Wizengamot to vote according to his will," Ron said. "He's not a bad tactician."
"So what do we do," Hermione asked.
Harry huffed loudly. "Isn't it obvious? I influence my pawn, Kingsley, to declare Martial Law and I use my brainwashed and loyal Aurors to crush any resistance," he snarled. "That translates to: No ruddy idea. Please tell me, Hermione."
They all looked at Hermione who tried her best to feign ignorance of all attention focusing on her and her ability to hatch brilliant ideas on the spot. "Well…we could talk to Peasegood and see what he thinks. He's all for justice, but he's definitely not a great fan of Gumboil's lately. And Harry, speak to Dung and see if he's heard anything on the street."
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Not long after the attack on Draco Malfoy, Harry, Ron and Seamus determined that they needed to train Ginny, Hermione and Fiona to defend themselves. While Hermione might not have been considered a real target for the anti-Pureblood movement, she was married to one; Ginny and Fiona were Purebloods, with Ginny a very high-profile one to boot. With all the violence breaking out in public and at Hogwarts, one could never be too careful.
Already almost Auror-class duellers, Ginny and Hermione needed more discipline in their focus; Fiona had almost no combat training of any kind, since she'd been brought up to heal. Ginny's Whomping Willow wand increased her already considerable power, but she needed to learn to harness that power, as it had already proven how destructive it could be that awful night in the Forest of Dean. Hermione, while not near as powerful as Ginny, had raw talent that needed maturing. She could definitely hold her own in a fight, as she'd proven during the war and in front of their seventh-year Defence class, but she lacked the physical stamina Ginny had as an athlete. While Harry worked with Ginny on control, Ron worked with Hermione on physical conditioning with regard to duelling.
Fiona's magical prowess was considerable, but she had no training to back it up. Granny Tyree had trained her well in the magical- and folk-healing arts while her mother meticulously taught her the sciences of Herbology and Potions-making, but for all of that, her general spell-work lacked terribly. She had been taught a few simple defence spells, such as Expelliarmus, Protego, Impedimenta, Stupefy, and a few others, but the men in her life doubted she could hold on in a real fight if she had to. Seamus would train her as Harry trained the DA—one spell at a time.
They'd started out with the simple spells she already knew, honing them sharply. Seamus taught her how to focus her magic on even the simplest of them, Expelliarmus, to achieve maximum results. It took a few hours, but finally, she blew the Irishman off his feet and into a wall, capturing his wand in her left hand. After that, they went to work on her shields and on to the others. With practise and focus, Fiona mastered the basic spells that would allow her a better chance at escape, but never a chance in a fight. Today, that had to change with the blasting hex, Bombarda.
"Onie, darlin'" Seamus sighed, stopping their duel. "Ye've got ta get over this fear o' hurtin' me!"
"I know," she moaned. "But I'm a Healer—I cain't seem ta bring myself ta throw them ugly ones!"
"Fiona, ya might find yerself in a situation where ya won't have much of a choice. There's stuff goin' on right here at Hogwarts that puts you and a load o' students at risk," he argued. "Besides, I can block yer worst."
"Just like ya blocked that nasty cuttin' curse," Fiona snapped. "Seamus, if I threw somethin' like that at a body, 'specially a student, I don't think I could live with myself."
"Bombarda isn't so ugly," Seamus assured her. "And Sectumsempra's advanced dark magic you're not ready for yet."
"Yer gonna make me learn that," Fiona gasped. "No! I cain't."
"Fiona Francine Prewett, yer gonna learn every spell in the book—light, dark, or otherwise," Seamus told her flatly.
"But—"
"But nothin'," Seamus stormed. "Darlin', listen ta me. Ya gotta know 'em if yer gonna heal after 'em!"
Fiona sighed. Deep down, she knew he was right. Growing up in Rook Holler, she learned that principle as it applied to other things, such as fire. On Halloween every year, the village held a bonfire celebration that went back many centuries to the courts of Tara in ancient Ireland. Samhain, loosely translated to mean summer's end, was celebrated with the lighting of bonfires, the first ritual fire flaring to life on the Hill of Tiachtga. The official fire would follow on the Hill of Tara, which served as a beacon for all of the other villages to light their fires.
"Kind of like back home the end of October," Fiona said, dropping to the mats the Room of Requirement had provided for their session. "Mr Dennis and a couple other village elders lit the bonfire."
"You celebrated Samhain, then," Seamus asked, finding yet another connection to this amazing Appalachian-American witch.
"Yeah, sorta," Fiona said. "We just didn't run on for three days. It was just Halloween night. He thatcha hafta know how ta build 'em and start 'em proper before ya c'n control 'em and put 'em out right. Nobody could come near 'em when they was buildin' it 'cept the boys they was trainin' to take up the job. They hadda be sixteen first, though."
"Then ya know what I'm sayin'," Seamus said. "Me mam told me da on many an occasion that ya gotta make a mess ta clean one up. Same thing, yeah?"
"I guess so," Fiona agreed reluctantly. "So…Bombarda then?"
"Up ya get, Love," Seamus chuckled. "Just think o' this trainin' as purely academic and ye'll be mighty at it, as me old granddad used ta say."
"Okay," she agreed. "Academic. Make a mess to clean one up. Here goes. BOMBARDA!"
A loud blast echoed through the Room of Requirement as Fiona's blasting hex shot over Seamus' head and struck the stone wall behind him. The force of the blow blew chunks of stone and mortar outward, knocking the Auror to the floor.
"Seamus! Lordy mercy, Seamus! Are ya all right," Fiona cried, racing to his side. She dropped to her knees and ran her wand over his body, removing dust and gravel and checking for injuries. Finding none, she helped him roll over onto his back. "I'm sorry, darlin'! I didn't mean…"
"I think ya got it, Love," Seamus chuckled, coughing and spitting the detritus of her spell out of his mouth. "That was some hex!"
"Well, once ya told me whatcha wanted 'n' why, it wasn't so hard," she giggled. "So what's next?" Fiona had to admit that while she still held some trepidation and dubiousness about learning to fight, she had to admit success was exhilarating.
"What's next," Seamus asked, his blue eyes sparkling. "This!" He pulled her down onto himself and crushed his lips against hers. He held her firmly as he kissed her, coaxing her mouth open so he could slip his tongue inside. She moaned sexily in his embrace, running her hands through his mussed sandy locks. The thong that held his ponytail in place had been loosened in the blast and fell away in her hand. She tossed it aside and proceeded to devour him in just about any way she could while still clothed.
They hadn't done anything beyond snogging yet and didn't seem to be terribly inclined to at this point. They were usually content to hold one another and talk, mostly about Ireland and North Carolina, their families, and horses. Seamus, it turned out, was quite the horseman. He often regaled her with stories about steeplechase races and the horse-trading at the Fair of Muff in County Cavan near Belfast.
"Ooh, that sound like fun," Fiona enthused. "When is it?"
"Mid-August," Seamus replied. "Would ya wanna go?"
"I'd love ta go," Fiona cried. "Can we ride, too?"
"I'm sure that can be arranged," he grinned. "You like ridin'?"
"Yeah, but I think my kind o' ridin' and yer kind are nothin' alike," she said with a sly smile. "We don't go for them fancy saddles and ridin' britches like y'all do here."
"Ah, what they call western, as opposed t'English," Seamus surmised. "I'm sure we can find ya the right saddle 'n' mount. There are a few farms that breed more'n just thoroughbred racin' animals."
"I haven't been on a horse in ages," she moaned. "We either had ta hike or ride up into the hills ta get ta the more backward families. They didn't much like traipsin' down ta us when they needed help."
"Think we'd better get back ta work, but first," Seamus began. "Ye've made a mess ye'll hafta clear away. I'm sure ya know the charm."
"Reparo," Fiona called, and flicked her wand at the mess. In a trice, the dust and broken stone flew back into the wall as if nothing ever happened.
"Good on ya, Love," Seamus congratulated her, applauding her spell work.
"Now, I want you to work on Bombarda to bring it under control," Seamus instructed. "I'll ask Hagrid to bring down a few boulders from the woods on the other side of the lake for ya ta practice on. Ye've got a mighty wand, Love, but ya gotta keep your castin' level. And now for yer shields."
"Aw, man," Fiona whinged. "Protego about wore me out."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet, Love," Seamus promised. "We're gonna take it a step further. Now watch." Seamus stepped a few metres away and drew his wand. "Protego Maxima!" A golden shield sprung into existence in front of him, shining like the sun.
"Wow!"
"Now—throw your blaster at me just like you did a few minutes ago," he instructed her.
"Are ya sure?"
"Do it," he demanded. "I promise I'll be fine."
"Okay. It's yer funeral," she said with a sigh. She drew he wand and pointed it right at him. With a deep breath and a quick prayer to whoever happened to be listening, she drew herself up and cast the blasting hex once again. "BOMBARDA!"
Fiona's spell sped right at Seamus rather than over his head as it had before. Horrified, she watched as her love stood there like a stone wall and let it come at him. CLANG! Her spell struck his shield and blew apart, leaving him completely unharmed and grinning from ear to ear, his shield still shining before him. "Bloody hell!"
Seamus dropped the shield and laughed as she stood there with wide eyes and trembling hands. "That, my love, is called Protego Maxima, and can stop almost anything. I say almost because no shield can stop everything. Now…this is how it's done." He proceeded to help her with the proper wand movements to achieve the desired shield. Producing it wasn't so much an issue as holding it. The standard shield was hard enough to maintain, but this one took the utmost concentration and physical stamina to hold for more than a second or two.
"Seamus," Fiona panted. "This thing's the devil! I cain't make it stay up!"
"It takes practise, Love. Ya gotta be patient," he soothed. "Ye've just started on yer mornin' jogs and all. Keep it up and ye'll be able to hold it. Now try again."
Fiona took a couple of cleansing breaths and focused her magic on the task at hand. With a wan smile at the man she loved, she raised her wand and made a quick clockwise circle and jabbed. "PROTEGO MAXIMA!" A shining gold shield flickered to life and then vanished once again. "Oh I'll never get this'n right!"
"Of course ya will, Love. Maybe ye've just had enough for one day, yeah," Seamus suggested. "Let's sit down and have a drink." The Room of Requirement suddenly changed from a training room with mats on the floor to a room akin to the Gryffindor common room. They got seated by small table in front of them, and Seamus summoned a pitcher of pumpkin juice and two goblets.
"I'll never get used ta this," Fiona laughed, accepting the drink from Seamus' hands. "All ya gotta do is think somethin' and there it is!"
"Yeah, but I don't have near the connection ta this room that Neville's got," Seamus agreed, taking a sip of juice. "He really gets it, ya know? Durin' the war, he could make this room give us anything we needed—and even a few things we didn't."
"Whattaya mean," she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Well…when it got really bad, we all had ta go inta hidin'," Seamus explained. "Luna'd been kidnapped right off the train at Christmas and the Weasleys pulled Ginny out of school at Easter and went inta hidin'. Neville was our leader then. The Carrows put a price on his head and he had ta go inta hidin' himself, but he wouldn't leave us, so he hid in here. As the weeks went by, more and more of us had to hide, but we didn't want to leave because we needed ta look after the younger kids. So we moved in here—Gryffs, 'Claws, and 'Puffs. At that time, the Snakes were the enemy."
"So what happened," she asked, thoroughly entranced.
"Well…as more and more of us moved in, the room resized ta fit us all. It even created a little hospital wing for us and produced medical supplies we couldn't nick from Poppy. Ya see, we weren't allowed ta go ta her and she wasn't allowed ta come ta us, but once in a while, one of us would get busted up pretty bad in detention, so this room created a special Floo connection to Poppy's quarters so she could get here undetected. By the time Harry, Ron and Hermione showed up, this room was a dormitory, a hospital, a game room, and a kitchen."
"Damn," Fiona breathed. "Seamus, I was wonderin' somethin' while we was practising a bit ago."
"What, Love?"
"Well…when y'all was fightin' in the tournament, it wasn't a buncha back-n-forth stuff like we're doin'. It was fast and furious—like y'all was dancin' kind of."
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Seamus replied. "But that kind of duelling takes loads and loads of practise and control over yer castin'."
"Why aintcha teachin' me that way, then," she asked, leaning into his shoulder.
Seamus chuckled and wrapped his left arm around her. "One thing at a time, Love. First ya must learn how ta properly cast the spells—and most wizards and witches can learn that. But that doesn't make 'em a good fighters. Ya must know these spells so well that ya can cast 'em without thinkin', because yer mind must be on the fight. Winning a duel is about castin' the right spell at the right time. That's how Harry won against Voldemort with a simple, but powerful, Expelliarmus. So, first ya learn the spells, then ya learn how to fight with 'em. After that, it's possible to learn combinations of spells, speed and stamina, tumbling exercises and things like that to increase yer chances o' winnin'."
"So all that floppin' around y'all was doin' was part o' the fight?" Fiona had originally thought that the falls and rolls were the result of having been jinxed.
"Most of it, yeah. Susan discovered tumblin' while we were still in trainin'. Harry made us learn it all and it paid off," he told her. "We've been in a few scrapes where that floppin' around, as you call it, saved our arses."
"Except when ya drop yerself into a hole," Fiona laughed. "I thought you was done for."
"Hey, now wait just a minute, lass," Seamus scowled. "There wasn't any hole there when I jumped over Red. He blasted it there just as I landed, I'll have ya know."
"I was still worried," she pouted. "I thought Ronnie was gonna make stew outta ya."
"If I'm honest, so did I," he laughed. "But ye'll notice he hesitated for a split-second, which gave me the out I needed to hang his freckled arse out ta dry. Levicorpus was a favourite of Harry's da's."
"Will ya teach me that one," Fiona asked hopefully. If a student tried to attack her, she figured she could just hang the little snot up and disarm him rather than actually put a world of hurt on him.
"I told ya ye'd be learnin' every spell in the book, so yeah. I'll be teachin' that one to ya," Seamus assured her.
"Good," she cooed. "Seamus?"
"Hm?"
"Is tú mo ghrá."
"Me too," he murmured, drawing her face to his. He couldn't believe how much he loved Fiona Prewett. Since fourth year, he'd carried a reputation as a ladies' man and a bit of a cad—mostly due to his own embellished stories of conquest—but he could never tell such tales about the witch in his arms. He truly adored her and would do everything in his power to defend her honour. He cared about Lavender and maybe even loved her a little in his own way, but he knew the moment he met Fiona that he'd fallen in love. For that reason, he broke off his relationship with Lavender and moved out of their flat.
Seamus and Fiona clung to one another as they shared kiss after steamy kiss. With a groan, he laid her down on the sofa and hovered over her. He so wanted to take her, but he knew it wasn't right. Their relationship was still too new, too fragile to sully on a whim. Privately, he suspected by Harry's admonitions against hurting Fiona that she was a virgin. He would make love to her when the time was right and not a moment before.
"Ye're drivin' me mad," he groaned, raising himself off of her. "Ye're so beautiful—I can't get over it. I'm dyin' fer want of ya, but I can't."
"It's all right, darlin'. We're not ready for that yet, but if it helps, I want you too—just not yet," she replied breathlessly, her hair a mess and her face flushed. "But what we have now is beautiful. I feel so at home in your arms—like I belong here."
"Ya do belong here, Fiona, and one day—well, when that day comes, we'll both know," he said, kissing her temple. "But right now, I think we'd better go before we do somethin' we'll both regret."
"Shall we visit the House-elves," she asked, rising from the sofa. "I'm sure they got some leftovers they're just dyin' ta feed us."
"Lead on, my strawberry angel," Seamus chuckled. Sensing their departure, the Room of Requirement cancelled all its trappings and became an empty chamber once again.
