Chapter 6

December 21st, 1999

A few weeks before the night that changed things, Susan and I had a small office made out of a corner of the training center main room. Just two small desks, a bookcase and a file cabinet, separated by a half-wall. One floor above, there is an auror ready room, large, with dozens of desks. Hardly the place to keep track of paperwork, or to write a report in peace.

The excuse for the improvised office was a bit of extra administrative work that landed on our laps. We had to develop a routine for action training, first for ourselves, than for the trainees placed under us. Susan, worried about where to set the bar for our charges, remarked at a meeting with Robarts that there were no set minimum standards for the whole corps. In fact, several senior aurors never came to the training center at all, and were distinctly out-of-shape. We were immediately put in charge of developing said standards, and then enforcing them. Grumbling ensued, some of it quite loud, but Kingsley and Robarts supported it emphatically. So, after a couple of overconfident loudmouths being decisively put down by my partner, a leaner, meaner Auror corps slowly begun to emerge.

Now, having the office, we get to use it. For a couple of hours, I've been writing a report on a confusing, and very irritating incident that happened the day before. It was around ten at night when the call came. A concealed wizarding pub in Edinburgh, too much firewhisky and a few loose wands. A stupid quiddich argument that turned into a deadly spell brawl. A pair of aurors came, tried to stop it and got entangled into it. When Terry and I arrived, the pub was on fire, there were two dead, five injured, including both aurors, and another four passed out. The two aurors, one of them, Dawlish-the-moron, broke protocol. They should have waited for reinforcements.

A little law is needed. Pub holds the wand. Intoxicants and deadly weapons really shouldn't mix.

I'm down to the last couple of paragraphs when Susan walks in, huffing, and throws herself on her chair and gives me a dirty look. After we came back from our honeymoon, dealing with Susan has become somewhat confusing. She's become a little distant, something I find perfectly understandable, given the circumstances. I miss her former openness, though,

And I can't help it. A woman who is carrying your baby is... what? Compelling? I know just seeing her moves me in new and unexpected ways. Specially if she is upset.

My first impulse is to go to her, and massage her shoulders. I'm sure that's inappropriate, at least at the workplace. Yet, I can almost feel my little blonde conscience pushing me to follow my instincts. So I do.

I stand behind the back of her chair and massage her shoulders and neck. It's quite well-received. A few minutes of massage, and a little guilty snogging later, we are back at our desks, trying to look professional. Thankfully, only then a couple of people drop by with their workout charts for signing.

After they leave, I can finally ask. "What was it?" Susan looks uncertain. "What was bothering you?"

"Oh!" She makes a gesture of dismissal. "It was nothing, really. An uncooperative witness. I'm keeping her locked up overnight to see if she is a little more forthcoming in the morning."

"All right. Let me know if you want help."

"Of course." She looks sharply at me for a second and bites her lower lip. "My place for dinner?"

I try not to grin like a fool, and I'm only partially successful, as Susan giggles a little. "Sure." Both me and the little blonde inside do a little dance. "You're not doing anything for Yule?"

"The solstice is tomorrow. I'm planning to visit my family's grave after work." She appears to think a little and adds softly. "Do you want to join us?"

It takes me a moment to realize who the other person is. When I do, it hits me like a hammer. My eyes water a bit, and Susan blushes, clearly pleased. I manage to reply. "Y-yes. I'd be delighted."

Susan goes blow up some dummies, and I get back to my report. An hour later, we leave together, first to Number Twelve, where I change into muggle civvies and then to her place.

Susan's family manor was burned to the ground when Riddle killed her aunt. It was yet another way for the madman to show his actual contempt for wizarding values. Destroying a manor is killing a big part of a family's history and it's almost as offensive as ending the line itself. So, Susan lives in a farmhouse in Yorkshire, a pleasant family home which she inherited from her mother's family. It's just a little bigger than the house where my parents were killed in Godric's Hollow, but with a nice ten acres of grass and trees around it.

Susan goes first through the Floo, and I follow, tumbling as usual. Tilly, her house elf, pops next to her. "Welcome home, Mistress. You and Master Harry Potter for dinner?"

"Yes, Tilly. In half an hour?"

"Yes, Mistress." She pops out. Susan heads to her bedroom and beckons me to follow. Then she surprises me. Along the way, she drops her robes, takes off her sweater, her shirt and removes her bra. She's left with a knee-length tartan wool skirt in black and yellow, socks and trainers.

Seemingly unaware of how sexy she looks, she complains. "Merlin! That thing was killing me." Once in her room, she turns around and holds up her breasts with a grimace, massaging them. "They are tender and sore." Her behavior truly confuses me, until I realize this is pragmatic Susan at play. Her breasts hurt, I'm partially responsible and she is not showing me anything I haven't seen before.

Yet, it's been three weeks since I saw them last. "They are bigger..." then I look down, at her flat belly, and I'm a little disappointed. She follows my sight.

"Ten weeks, Harry. It's a little too soon for it to show."

She walks backwards and throws herself on her bed. "Massage them a bit, Harry. Gently."

"I can do that." I take her left breast in both my hands and knead it, trying not to get too worked up over it. Trying and failing. After a few minutes I do the other one. I caress her nipples while doing it, which makes them hard and Susan moans a little. "I just wish I could do more."

She smiles. "Oh, don't worry. You'll do plenty more later." Not entirely unaware, it seems. She turns around and places a pillow under her belly. "Do my lower back now."

With Susan now wearing a loose shirt, and looking happier, we go down for dinner.

Lamb and barley stew, with homemade crusty bread. Tasty and warming. "Nice." I comment between mouthfuls.

"Tilly is a good cook," Susan replies with a smile. "And this is one of my favorites. I think baby agrees with it too," she adds while serving herself of a second helping.

"How about the mornings?"

"It's getting a better, I think." She looks at her plate and frowns a bit. "I know it's a little late to ask, but what are your plans for Christmas?"

"Dinner at the Delacours on the twenty-fourth, lunch with Andy and Teddy the following day."

"Ah. I'm spending Christmas with Hannah and her family. I think Neville and his Gran are joining us too."

"That sounds nice." I look into her eyes and shake my head. "We should have planned on doing something together." When she just presses her lips together and doesn't say anything I continue. "I know. I guess I finally realized you are my closest family."

She breathes out, like she was holding her breath before. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry." I point to myself. "Boy. Clueless."

She chuckles. "We could spend Boxing Day together." She looks down at her chest and giggles. "I suppose I could do a little shopping."

"I'd love that."

After dinner we sit on an old leather couch facing the living room fireplace. Centered, on top of the fireplace, and in a small wooden frame, the Order of Merlin awarded posthumously to Amelia Bones. Susan has her head on my lap. We are both lost in thought, while I caress her unbound hair distractedly.

There is nothing tense about the silence. We are stuffed with good food, tired from work and we seem to have moved on a little from whatever delicate questions lie between us. Still thinking about family, I break the silence. "Would you tell me a little about your aunt?"

"Did you ever meet her?"

"Just once." I tell Susan about the Wizengamot meeting in the Summer before fifth year and what led to it. "She left me with a very good impression," I conclude.

"My parents were killed a few months before yours. She was one of the top Seniors when my parents got killed. Best wand on the force, bar Moody, they say. But, to care for me, she took a desk job with regular hours. After Crouch lost the DMLE, they plucked her right over Scrimgeour's head for the Directorship. I understand it was a deal, were some moderates voted for Fudge for Minister, if they could have Auntie for the DMLE. " Susan sits up, sidling up next to me and resting her head on my shoulder. "Despite the high pressure job, I never felt neglected. I called her 'auntie', but she really was my mother. A bloody good one, too. I just hope I can do half as well."

"You're going to be a great mother, Suzy."

"That's easy to say..."

"I mean it."

"And how would you know?" There's a little bitterness in her tone.

I chuckle. "How would I know... I don't, really. But if I had to choose someone to be a mother, you'd be right at the top of the list."

"I'm nineteen, Harry."

"That's easy to forget, isn't it? For both of us."

"Surviving doesn't make you wise, or capable of caring, or even sane."

"So true." A long silence follows.

Susan, with her usual perceptiveness, guesses the direction of my thoughts. "You'll be a good father too."

"I don't really know what that means."

She touches her nonexistent baby bump and smirks. "Someone will have to teach you."

From the side of the couch, a brown triangular head climbs up into Susan's lap. "$ Speaker... $"

"$ Well, hello, Sammy. Good to see you. $" The viper is probably half a foot longer and a bit thicker than the last time Harry saw him. "$ Is Susan treating you well? $"

"$ The two-legs is kind. Her nest is warm. It's cold outside, but there is plenty of prey. $"

"Maeve! I'm envious. What is he saying?" Says Susan.

"That he is happy. Your house is warm and there is prey outside."

"Ask him if there is anything I could do for him, please."

I nod. "$ Anything you want from Susan? $"

"$ An egg, sometimes. When it's snowing. $"

"He says he would like an egg, when it's snowing outside."

"$ She should take me with her, so I can protect her and the hatchlings."

"He says you should take him when you go out, so he can protect you and the babies. Wait..."

"$ Hatchlings? $" I ask.

"$ There are two. Can't you tell? $"

"He says there are two babies."

"He can tell?"

I shrug. "Maybe."

"$ Are you their father? $"

"He is asking me if I am the father." I turn to Sammy. "$ Yes. $"

"$ Perhaps they will be speakers too. That would be good.$"

"He says he wishes they will be parselmouths too. It's possible, I guess. Just give me a few minutes."

I enter into a light meditation, feeling the magic around me. It's a curse-breaker discipline that Fleur and Bill taught me, and that seems to come naturally to me. Once I feel the wards, I can discount them. I move my hand slowly, about an inch away from Susan's torso. Around the third chakra, the solar plexus, is where the feel of Susan's magic becomes clearest. A strong, solid, calm feel, pulsating slowly. If Veela's magic is fire, Susan's is definitely earth. I move my hand down, seeking the magic of the child, or children. I fail completely. My guess is that magical signatures are too weak to be separated from the mother's at this stage.

"No. I think it's too soon."

"But, how could Sammy tell, then?"

"I don't believe it was magic he was sensing. I would guess it's heat sensing. Or he could be wrong." Susan is clearly bothered. "I thought twins would be good news... "

Susan presses her lips together. "The consort contract ends at the birth of the second child."

Her eyes look wet. The answer comes as a revelation. "You don't want it to end." She shakes her head. I grab her hands. "Suzy..."

"What?"

"Forget about the contract." I give her a long kiss. She melts in my arms. We get up and walk up to the bedroom. My head is spinning with feelings I don't know how to articulate. I'm not good with words, but I can let my actions speak for me. For the first time, we don't shag. We make love. Slow, tender, eyes-in-the-eyes, romantic love. She cries a little afterwards, but it's good tears. I can't honestly say that I love her. Not yet. But, for the first time, I am all in.

We are still a bit in the clouds when we arrive at work the next morning. I decide to follow Susan to the holding cells and her troublesome witness.

She sees me first. "Well, hello, Auror Potter," in a dry, mocking tone.

She's in her office outfit, dark robes over elegant muggle, mussed up for being slept on, dark shadows under her eyes, hair hanging limp, obscuring her face. "Ms. Farley."

Susan watches the interaction with a raised eyebrow. "We were an item, for a little while." Gemma explains.

Susan looks inquiringly at me and I shrug. "Let's move this to an interview room."

Gemma requests a moment to 'freshen up' and Susan takes her to a loo, while I wait at an interview room one floor up. Five minutes later they get in, Gemma looking a little more like herself, and Susan closed off and professional. I know what the interrogation is about, without being told.

Susan breathes in and out slowly to center herself. "So, Ms. Farley, I'll ask again. Have you brought anything into the Ministry at the behest of Mr. Geoffrey Sirkis?"

Gemma looks briefly at Susan, defiance and a little fear in her eyes, but she says nothing.

There is a loud clap, as Susan slaps the table. "For the last time. Did you bring anything into the Ministry on behalf of Mr. Sirkis?" Gemma looks down and says nothing. "Harry. Get me veritaserum."

That changes her demeanor, fear takes the front. "No. You can't..."

"This investigation is concerned with potential Death Eater activity. The forcible use of veritasserum is allowed, if agreed upon by two Aurors." Susan turns to me. "Harry?"

I look at Gemma, and she just looks back, terrified. I turn around to go get the potion. "Wait!"

"What?" I ask.

Gemma turns to Susan. "I'll talk to Harry."

Susan is having none of it. "You will talk to both of us!"

I touch Susan's shoulder. "A couple of minutes?"

Susan gives me an annoyed look, and leaves without a word. I cast a couple of privacy charms and turn to Gemma. "Speak."

"I'm under an oath." She whispers.

That explains the fear. Extracting information protected by an oath with veritasserum could damage her magic or her mind. "I see. What can I do for you, then?"

She comes closer, and uses uses both hands to my face to pull us face-to-face. Even without trying, I can read her mind's surface, her fear and her trust. After a few seconds, I get it.

Gemma is a half-blood raised as a pureblood and she was top bitch of Snape's cesspit for three years. Ergo, she's an able occlumens. That means full control of her mind shields, even the natural ones. And they are wide open.

Depending on the precise wording, an oath might leave open a few escapes.

I bring my wand up and direct a little prayer to Lady Magic. I can do this, but I can barely trust myself inside my own mind. Gemma, curse her sweet, devious soul, smiles and whispers. "Be gentle, Harry..."

I chuckle. "Legillimens."

I see what I need, and quite a few things I'd rather not have seen. It takes me hours, subjective, but just a few minutes in the real world. I get out of her mind, hoping that I left her brain more-or-less in the state I found it. I feel like I have a spike driven deep in my forehead, and Gemma's eyes roll back. I barely catch her before she hits the side of her head on the table. I'm still half-holding her and struggling to clear my head, when Susan gets back.

"Harry!" She steps forward and helps me hold Gemma up. "What happened?"

I ignore her question. "Who knows we have her?"

"I picked her up at her desk yesterday at the end of shift. Her forehead creases in concentration. I guess Trent, Finnegan and the house-elves for the detention center."

"Let's keep it this way." Susan agrees silently. I call one of the elves. "Nitsy."

A tiny female house elf wearing a green dress with the DMLE shield "Yes, Auror Potter, Sir?"

"Would you please get me a pain potion, a dreamless sleep potion and get Finnegan here, please?"

She pops out, and a few seconds later, pops back in with two flasks, one light blue and one purple. I drink the light blue one, and the headache recedes almost instantly. Then I transfigure one of the chairs into a cot, give Gemma the purple potion and place her gently on the cot. She looks a little uncomfortable, so I conjure a pillow and a thin blanket and tuck her in. She's going to be out for ten to twelve hours. By the time I'm done, Seamus knocks on the door. Susan opens it.

"Hey, Harry, Suzy. How can I help?"

"Good morning, Seamus. Ms. Farley here is a witness in a sensitive case. Nobody is to know she is here, and nobody opens the door to this room until five this afternoon. Understood?"

"Sure, mate. You clear it with Robarts?"

"I will."

We get out of the room, and I cast a modified locking charm, with 'sammy' as a password.

A few minutes later, Susan and I are standing in front of Robarts desk.

Robarts lifts his eyes from whatever document he is reading and gives them a dead look. "You may report."

"Susan pulled Gemma Farley for interrogation yesterday, in connection with the gray package. She avoided straight answers, so Susan decide to hold her overnight. I joined her in the interrogation this morning. Threatened with veritasserum, she broke down and asked to talk to me in private."

"Why?"

"We dated for a couple of months earlier this year."

He nods. "Proceed."

"She claimed she was under an oath, and indicated she would allow me access through legillimency. She's an able occlumens, and has full control of her mind shields. Through the probe, I found out that the package was brought into the Ministry yesterday morning. She left it at half past eight, inside a file cabinet in an unused office on the fifth floor. She came back at four and retrieved a card, with the single message 'D5'. She's to meet her boyfriend tonight at his house, to report her success and deliver the message."

Susan interjects a question. "Why did she do it?"

"They have her stepmother. He swore an oath of his own, that they would let her go once the mission was completed."

There is a moment of silence, broken by Robarts. "Does she know anything else?"

I smile a bit. Gemma knows quite a lot. "Nothing relevant, Sir."

"What's next?" Susan asks.

"I'll handle it from here." Robarts replies. When I open my mouth to protest he cuts me off. "You're too close to this, Potter."

"He's right." Susan adds.

"Fine. Just be fair to Ms. Farley."

"She's broken the law, Potter." I get visibly angry. "Look, if she cooperates fully, we will let it go."

"Just make that clear to her and she will."

Robarts stiffens up and gestures towards the door. "Get out of here."

Susan and I headed to our office at the training center. With the whole life of Gemma Marie Farley whirling around in my head, I could hardly hear myself think. I stop, in the middle of a third floor hallway and face Susan. "I'm sorry, Suzy. I'm going home..."

"I was hoping we could talk."

I shake my head. "Not right now. I need to sort things. I'll be in touch."

I turn back, but Susan stops me with a hand on my shoulder. "Is it her?"

"What?"

"The woman you're in love. Is it her?" She is hurt, but I can't deal with that.

"Yes... no." I shake my head. "I don't know. Honest."

A sad smile. "All right, Harry. Go. Sort yourself out."

I give her a brief kiss on the lips. "Thank you."

I go to Number Twelve, and then straight to the basement. I undress down to my boxers and sit cross legged at the center of the training mat. "Kreacher."

"Yes, Master."

"A couple of cold sandwiches and a pot of tea on a tray, please. No interruptions, unless it's an emergency." He bows and pops out. When he comes back and sets down the tray at the edge of the mat, I'm doing a slow breath exercise.

The beginning of occlumency is clearing your mind and learning how it feels to have your thoughts invaded. From there, multiple paths are possible. Once you know you're under attack, you may just leave, curse back, block or do something else. My favorite is the werewolf response. Attack my mind, and I maul your probe, invade yours and trash the place.

Building shields is for the disciplined mind. Organizing thoughts and experiences, concealing them and building magical barriers. It's not for me. Yet, the discipline, the process of organizing thoughts and memories helps deal with emotional trauma. Or so my mind healer told me. I was taught to do it, to meditate and relive bad experiences, categorize them and deal with some of the pain along the way.

It also helps deal with confusion, replaying things in your mind and confronting them.

I have Gemma's whole life inside my head. Some of it in memory technicolor, but most in faint outline. The more emotional energy in the memory, the more detail got carried back. Some of it has an unholy attraction. Our first time, from her point of view, for example. Others are a surprise, like the wistful torch she's carried for Penny since their fourth year. I must pack this all away, and try not to violate her privacy any further.

My mindscape is a park, with grass, bushes and trees. Memories are stashed, in a haphazard way, in blades of grass, in branches and leaves. There is almost no shield beyond the instinctive ones. Under a tree, I imagine an old student trunk, full of junk. Books, clothing, potion flasks, and other stuff. I place my memories of Gemma's memories there. Careful about not pawing through them, despite numerous temptations. Time had very little meaning in the mindscape, but I know it's been hours. The job is only partially done. I close the trunk, lock it and get back slowly to the real world.

I stretch, getting the kinks out. It's been six hours. Four cups of tea and two sandwiches later, I'm feeling human again. I go to the worktable, to place the finishing touches on my Christmas gift to Teddy. It's a wooden wolf, about four inches high at the withers. animated with tinny wolf sounds and as much real behavior as my charms and runes abilities can give it.

It's around six when I get back up and ask for dinner. Later, I'm checking an old Potter book on enchanting. I want a new project, perhaps a self-rocking cradle or two, when Kreacher pops beside me.

"Master Black, The Farley witch is on the floo."

I close the book and go to the fireplace. She asks to come, and I open the wards for her. She steps out gracefully, still wearing yesterday's clothes. She checks him out and smiles, looking her particular combination of clever and sweet. Knowing that look from the inside, I'm having none of it.

"Harry..."

"What do you want, Gem?"

She looks to her feet for a second. "They told me to go somewhere safe. My place isn't, and neither is my parents.."

"I see. What about Penny?"

"She is visiting family in the United States. I was hoping we could... talk?"

I shake my head. She's feeling vulnerable and wants protection. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

"Kreacher."

He walks in from the kitchen. "Master Black."

"Ms. Farley will be staying at one of the downstairs bedrooms, as longs as she wants. Please, see to it that she is comfortable."

He bows and "It's an honor to serve the House of Black."

I throw a pinch of floo powder at the fireplace. "The Bookshelf." A very appropriate floo adress for Hermione's single bedroom flat.

Ron's face appears in the flames. "Harry? Oh, hello, Mate."

"Hi. Can I talk to Hermione?"

"Sure." Ron's face disappears and Hermione's shows up.

"Well, hello, stranger."

I flinch. She's quite right to complain. "Sorry."

"Not a problem. What can I do for you?"

"I have a female refugee here at Number Twelve. Ginny's height, a tad more both on top and on the bottom. She's got nothing but what she's wearing. Can I borrow some emergency stuff? A couple of days worth."

"Do I know your refugee?" Hermione sounds amused.

"Does the name Gemma Farley ring any bells?"

"Of course. Percy's year. Slytherin prefect. Very pretty."

I glance at Gemma. She's smiling. "Spot on."

"Give me a few minutes." She pauses for a second. "I will want the full story, though."

"You can get it from Ms. Farley." She frowns. "I'll be at Suzy's"

"Ah. Smart. Dinner on Boxing day?"

"Sorry. Previous engagement. The day after?"

"That's fine. Bring Suzy."

"I'll ask her. Bye."

"Bye."

Gemma's smile is frozen on her face. "Thank you."

I shrug. "Thank Hermione."

"You're not staying."

"No."

"Harry..."

I stop her with a raised hand. "Look, there is currently two women in my life. That's already more than I can handle."

She stiffens up, and glares at me. "What makes you think..."

"I was inside your head earlier today, remember?"

She appears to deflate. "Oh."

The fact that I understand her much better now doesn't mean that I don't like her anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. But that will have to wait. "It's just a bit of bad timing, Gem, that's all."

She seems to perk up a bit. "You mean you don't hate me."

"Quite the contrary, love."

She nods. "Later, than."

"Sure thing."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

She's wearing a tank top and shorts, pale green, in some kind of soft material. Her arms are crossed under her breasts and she is looking at me with a guarded expression. I'm looking up at her from the floor, after tumbling out of the floo. It's quite an impressive view.

"Hi."

"Are you sorted out, Harry?"

"Partially." I jump up. "Gemma showed up, asking for a safe place to stay."

She raises one eyebrow. Probably trained in front of the mirror too. "And you ran away."

"Not really. Do you have a spare bed I can use?"

"Of course." A small grin. "Mine."

I feel a swell of affection for her. We have a lot to learn about each other. And a lifetime to do it, I hope.

I step forward and grab her in a kiss. She stiffens at first, but then melts in my arms. After a minute, we separate, the mutual desire thick between us. "Should we make use of it, then?"

She saunters ahead, working it a little. I let myself enjoy the show for a couple of seconds, before following her. I don't recall she acting openly seductive before.

It's fairly vanilla. A little foreplay, some slow grinding with Susan on top, and ending with a reasonably frantic missionary. I have to hold myself up to let her finish, which she does with a satisfactory amount of noise, her spasms finishing me off nicely. She falls asleep in my arms, pretty much instantly, resonating softly. It's a charming sound. Her energy level is not what it was, which is not at all surprising. I stare at the ceiling for a while before sleeping.

Next morning we get the word. We have Sirkis, plus an accomplice, dead to rights on extorsion. But we only have half the story on Nott. No actual crime yet. Gemma's stepmum is safe and Gemma will be out of my house.

December 24th, 1999

I actually manage not to end up on the floor this time, although it still takes a little fumbling to stay upright. Gabrielle arrives running, five seconds after my entrance, with her hair in a bun and wearing a white tutu and ballet shoes. Bloody adorable. "Hey. I like the look."

She smirks, does a pirouette and replies in a playful tone. "What? This old thing?"

"It's not the clothes. It's the woman inside them," I reply deadpan.

She giggles and jumps me with an arms-and-legs hug. "I missed you so much!"

I walk forward, with her hanging from me. "Me too, Elle." Her pleasure in seeing me matching well with my own.

She unhugs me and grabs my hand, pulling me. "I want to show you something." She brings me to a medium-sized room, arranged as a dance studio. A whole mirrored wall, with a horizontal bar and a baby grand piano at a corner. "Sit at the piano's bench." She goes to the center of the room and does a little breathing and stretching routine. Then she closes her eyes and takes a position, one leg stretched behind her, foot extended, one leg slightly bent, back arched and arms held up. Her emotions, excitement and a little nervousness, with the quiet confidence of long practice. "Push a bit of magic into ehwaz, wunjo and nauthiz in the front panel. "

I do as asked. A familiar tune, soft, lighthearted and beautiful.

Her movements tight, elegant, utterly precise. Lightness and strength. En pointe, step, step, twirl. Bend forward, one leg extended backwards, perfectly balanced, her hand extends, almost touching the ground... the challenge of the motion takes the backseat, while she gives herself to the music. Her love of the dance shows, both in the real world, and in the swirl of her emotions. Step, step, step, jump, her legs extended. Land on one foot, three broad steps, very fast, and spin, a full turn on the air. Throughout, eyes bright, a small smile, playful.

I've never experienced anything nearly as entrancing. Watching it and feeling her inside me as she puts forward the very best of herself. The pride. The discipline and the will. Pain, a mere distraction, easy to ignore. The joy. The disappointment, as something doesn't come out exactly as expected.

It ends with a sustained fast spin, as the song finishes. She curtsies to me, breathing fast, and our eyes lock. No clapping, no words exchanged. She knows I'm overwhelmed. I know she's pleased. She approaches, and I lean forward, to give her a kiss on the forehead. But something happens, she lifts her face, and I give her a slow soft kiss on the lips. All tenderness on my part, still very sweet but a bit less innocent on hers. We are both a overcome, her heart beating fast with the exertion and the feeling of her first kiss. I'm a little conflicted, butI'm happy to have shared this with her.

After the kiss, she presses herself against my chest. I takes me a second to find my voice. "Thank you."

She answers the question I didn't ask. "The dance of the sugar plum fairy. From the Nutcracker."

"You're amazing."

She smirks. "Of course I am." A brief silence as we recover our composure and her breathing slows down. "I work hard at it too."

"It takes a lot of work to make it seem that easy."

I pick her up by the waist, then I get up and set her down on the bench. She just stares at me. I kneel I front of her, untie the straps of her shoes and remove them. It's not the broken mess of the usual ballet feet, magic wouldn't allow that. But her toes are bruised and bleeding. I cast a couple of healing spells, episkey for the bleeds, and a bruise charm. Not good as new, but better. Rough field healing, part of the Auror's kit. "Thank you," she whispers.

I massage her feet and calves a little. She makes small noises in appreciation. Her muscles are toned, dense. "Some Dittany, maybe?" I suggest.

"Later. We need to get ready for dinner." She cackles a bit. "If you carry me, I'll show you to your room."

I pick her up and set her down on my shoulders. "It's an honor, mademoiselle."

She cackles again. "Forward, trusty steed! To the left, and up the stairs!"

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Gabrielle knocks at my door, just as I'm done getting ready. She's her usual bubbly self, but with a dollop of anxiety thrown in, which makes me curious in turn. I try to project some kind of welcome, to tell her to come in, but our link doesn't seem to work this way. She knocks again.

"Come!"

She opens the door and walks right past me to check herself out at the mirror in my closet. She's wearing a dark blue, long sleeve, knee-length velvet dress, with white trim, cinched below her chest and flaring a little, white stockings and white leather shoes with inch-high heels. A thin silver necklace and her hair held by two silver combs I've seen before. It's rather elegant and suits her nicely. "You're looking very nice, Elle."

She checks herself again and sighs, a little frustrated. "Thanks. You're looking fine too." I'm using tan slacks, a white cotton dress shirt and well-polished black leather shoes.

"Jacket and a tie?"

"Yes for the jacket. You can skip the tie." I put on a dark blue jacket that matches her dress.

She looks at me and gestures to lower myself a bit. Then she reaches up, arranges my collar and checks me out again, nodding. "You'll do." We walk down the stairs, and her anxiety picks up a bit. She stops for a moment. "You're going to meet someone important. Be respectful, please."

The seriousness of the warning is so unlike her that I'm speechless for a second. "Hmm... all right."

People are still standing around the dining room table when we arrive. Apolline is the first to see us. "Ah! You're here." I nod to people, and wink at Fleur, who is holding Victoire. At seven months and a bit, she's turned into the cutest little blonde doll ever, even upstaging my Gabrielle. She turns serious. "Yolanthe, this is Harry Potter."

Next to Anielle, a slightly stooped Veela, with fine wrinkles on her hands and face, white hair and eyes covered with a grey film, clearly blind. She's wearing a rough off-white cotton dress, with delicate runic embroidery. I bow. "It's an honor, Madam." Beside me, Gabrielle does a deep curtsy.

"Please approach, young hero." Her voice is a sharp contralto, and her English has a slight lilt.

I step forward, to stand a couple of feet away. "I'm no hero." I protest idly. I will never accept that appellation. "Just Fate's toy."

She laughs softly. "Most heroes would say the same." She raises her hands towards my face. "May I?"

"Yes." I lean forward a bit.

Her fingers flutter about my face, for about a minute. "Handsome and powerful." She snickers. "Your magic reminds me of sweet Gellert. Such a shame..."

I'm not so sure about being compared to Grindelwald. "A shame that he became a dark lord?" Bill foolishly asks.

"Oh, no!" She chuckles. "A shame that he only liked men. I'm sure some of that splendid energy of his could have been put to much better use..."

"Harry likes girls." Gabrielle interrupts, missing the point a little.

"Then I hope you will make sure he doesn't become a Dark Lord, hm?" Anielle asks.

Gabrielle shrugs. "I don't care."

Fleur snickers, and Jean Paul takes exception. "What do you mean you don't care?"

"If he wants to be a Dark Lord, I'll be right beside him setting fire to his enemies."

"Thank you." I respond. "But I'd much rather watch you dance."

Yolanthe smiles, pleased. "Very good, both of you." She puts her hands on mine and Gabrielle's shoulders. "It would please me if you were to visit our island for a couple of days, maybe early next year. Anielle will make arrangements, won't you, dear?"

"Of course."

I exchange a glance with Gabrielle. "Sure."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

My head has barely touched the pillow when the door opens and closes, there is a pitter-patter of naked feet and a little blonde slips next to me under the covers. I wrap one arm around her and pull her until her head is on top of my shoulder. "Hey."

"Hi. Can we talk?"

"A little, maybe. Anything special?"

"I wanted to ask about Red."

"She's ten weeks along. Did I tell you she has a pet snake?"

"No. That's strange."

"Why?"

"From the way you speak of her, I'd expect something vanilla, like a dog, or a cat."

"Well..."

"What?"

"I may have been wrong about her."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm finding out there's more to Suzy than I thought."

"In what way?"

"I'm not sure. Anyways, Sammy, that's the snake, thinks she is carrying twins."

"Oh! When is she due?"

"Mid-July."

"I want to be there when it's time."

"That should be easy." There's a long silence. "I may be falling for her."

"Oh." She seems to concentrate for a second. "You definitely are. It's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Of course."

"Do you think she will let me play with you two?"

"Not everything is about sex, Elle."

"I know that. Still..."

"You'll have to ask her. She says she's straight, though, and I've never seen any indication to the contrary. Still, I'm finding out she can be pretty hard to read."

"Hm. Maybe the wench doth protest too much, hm? Besides, there is straight and there's resisting the advances of a Veela."

I laugh. "You can always hope. Succubus."

"Can I sleep here?"

I can't see it, but I imagine her batting her eyelashes at me. This is probably a mistake. She feels very nice next to me, though. "Yeah."