This is the third and last part of the HP AU thingy… (the two previous parts can be found at chapters 256 and 303 but I think it can stand alone)

Friendly Third Meeting

She hadn't been thinking when she had apparated away from the Ministry. In her panic, she had forgotten all about the wards surrounding Haymitch's house – wards that were so much stronger than the ones around her flat, wards that were impossible to breach. They had been sleeping together for a couple of months, she had only been at his house a few times, the wards weren't keyed to her, they didn't recognize her magical signature. She crashed against them.

How she managed not to splinch herself, she would never know.

She bounced back, her body flying in the air, and she was thrown on the ground like a broken doll. She lied on his back, her heart racing so fast all she could do was pant, and staring at the bright stars overhead. She couldn't have named one. She had never paid attention in Astronomy.

She heard the door being opened, she saw the soft glow of a Lumos, but she remained where she was. She stared at the stars and willed the memory of the greenish hues of the Dark Mark floating above the Ministry away.

She had been young during the last war, barely twenty. People younger than her had died at the time but not her, no. She was a Pureblood, her parents had declared themselves neutral… They had spent some years in Paris, waiting for the conflict to end one way or another… She had lost friends though, countless friends and acquaintances who sometimes visited her in her dreams and called her a coward for running away like no true Hufflepuff ever would.

"Come out of there, you fucker!" Haymitch bellowed from the safety of his wards. "You think you can attack an Auror at his own bloody house?"

She hadn't attacked, she had miscalculated but she supposed she could understand how the wards would have perceived her crashing against them as a threat.

"Haymitch."

She had meant to call him but it came out as a sob, barely loud enough to be heard. He heard it all the same.

"Fuck!" he spat, running to her without a single thought for his safety. He never lowered his wand though, his eyes never stopped darting around, looking for an enemy, looking for a threat… "You're hurt? What happened? Did someone did that? Talk to me, Princess."

She shook her head at each question, trying to stop his growing panic. She tried to sit but he had to help her. She had almost knocked herself out, she realized, she had almost killed herself in her stupid instinctive flee for safety.

"He's… He's back." she stuttered. "I saw him. He's back."

He frowned and seemed to understand there was no immediate threat. He pocketed his wand, hauled her up without any gentleness – gentleness wasn't Haymitch's thing – and dragged her back toward the house. She froze in front of the wards but he muttered a few words in latin and urged her forwards. The wards rippled over her body like a cold wave of water. He didn't say anything but she just knew she would never crash against them again. They would let her in without question from now on.

It made her want to cry.

"We were called at the Ministry and he was there. He was…" she continued as he steered her to his living-room. "I was so scared. It was worse than a Dementor, worse than… He's back. Haymitch, he's back. You were right, you were right all along…"

He settled her on the couch, framed her face with his hands and brushed his thumbs against her cheeks. He was wiping away the tears she couldn't hold back.

"Haymitch." she sobbed.

"I know. I got a message." he replied. "I need to go to the Ministry. All hands on deck. Shacklebolt needs all the Aurors available."

He waved his wand and she watched as a bottle of liquor poured a large amount of firewhiskey into a glass.

"You shouldn't drink when you're on the clock." she remarked.

"That's not for me." he said, handing her the glass. "Stay here tonight. It's safer than your flat."

She reached for his shirt instinctively, bundling the fabric in her fist. "Don't go."

He sighed but crouched next to the couch so he could look at her in the eyes. "You will be safe here, sweetheart."

"You won't." she argued. "What if there are still Death Eaters at the Ministry? Or on Diagon Alley? So many people died last time, Haymitch… So many Aurors… I don't want you to die. I don't want you to…"

He pressed a kiss to her mouth, effectively putting a stop to her rant.

"Stay here." he ordered one last time.

He was gone through the Floo before she could protest again. She kicked her heels and huddled against the armrest, wishing he would come back already. How wrong had she been? How blind? She had mocked him time and time again for his belief that Dumbledore wasn't simply a crazy old man who trusted an imaginative disturbed child… She had refused to listen to his warnings. They had argued and fought about it again and again but it had all been a game to her. She liked it when they argued, she liked it when they fought. It made her blood hot in her veins, it made the sex more thrilling… Haymitch was rough and dangerous and she loved it because she knew that as dark as he sometimes was he would never hurt her. She trusted him with her body. She obviously should have trusted him with the rest as well. Because he had been right. She had worked for the wrong man all along. She had supported the Ministry, she had supported Fudge, but everything they had done in the last year had made it easier for the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters to come back…

She nursed her drink, sipping from it slowly, letting the familiar burn of the firewhiskey warm her.

Was he safe? Was he fighting? In danger?

She wasn't supposed to care or run to him in trying times. They weren't a couple, just two people having occasional fun together. They weren't dating, they never went out, they never did anything other couples did… Her friends only knew she was sort of seeing someone but she had never mentioned him by name. They had never discussed what they were.

Yet her life without him would be sad and empty.

Even now, the thought that he could be in a life and death situation was making her sick to the stomach. She wanted to help. But how? She excelled at Charms but her Defense was lacking. She hadn't even pursued it past her O.W.L.s. She wasn't a fighter. Not in that sense.

She placed the empty glass down, letting her blue eyes wander around the room. She was more familiar with his bedroom than the rest of the house. She noticed some Muggle appliances, wondered what they were, but after a few seconds all she could see was the dust covering everything and the numerous empty bottles lying here and there.

The first vanishing spell passed her lips without her thinking about it. The second was more assertive. By the third, she was standing and pointing at particular clutter of old soiled newspapers.

She wasn't a fighter but she excelled at Charms and she needed to do something.

Her parents had houselves and she sometimes borrowed one to do her cleaning but when she had moved out, she had decided to be independent and that included doing the cleaning, the laundry and all those little things by herself – except the cooking, she couldn't cook to save her life. She didn't pause to think about what he would say when he would come back to find his house scourgified from floor to ceiling. She needed something to keep busy so she worked. Magic made it too easy. She finished the living-room and started on the kitchen and when she was done there, she moved on to the next room.

Dawn had come and gone since a few hours when she collapsed on his bed, burying her face in his pillow and breathing his smell in. It was some time before she heard the Floo being activated downstairs and a few more minutes before she heard the creaking of the stairs.

"Played the house-elf, did you?" he snorted, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked worse for the wear. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, he had a bruise on his face and there were heavy bags under his eyes but he looked otherwise alright. Alive, alive, a voice sang in her head and without further ado, she bolted from the bed and into his arms. He immediately wrapped her in a hug, pressing a kiss against her neck.

"We need to talk security measures, sweetheart. I could be anyone under Polyjuice. You never stopped to check." he chided her.

"You're you." she countered. "I know you are."

"You can't know. That's the point of Polyjuice." he argued.

"The wards wouldn't have let anyone else in." she pointed out.

"How do you know?" he grumbled, forcing her to draw back just enough that he could meet her eyes. "I just keyed them to you. Who says you're the only one I keyed them to? Maybe there are other people I would trust to come and go. Maybe one of them is a traitor who killed me and took my face. Maybe you're in danger right now because you never stopped to check. We're at war now, Princess. You need to be more careful."

"I know you are you because only you could be that insufferable, Haymitch." she retorted.

His lips twitched in a smirk. "Yeah, well… We still need a code. That's basic safety measures. We need a code to be sure we are who we say we are."

"I didn't know where I was going when I apparated from the Ministry." she whispered. "I was just so… terrified. I didn't decide to come straight here, I just… did. I wanted to be safe."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fashionable bun was in such disarray she had given up on salvaging it.

"Let me sleep a couple of hours and I will stop by your place on my way back to the Ministry." he said. "I will strengthen your wards and add a few more layers."

"I would appreciate it, thank you." she nodded. "Although it wasn't what I meant. It wasn't your wards I wanted, it was you. I wanted the safest place on Earth and I came to you. That can be my code. You can ask me where the safest place on Earth is. Most people impersonating me would probably answer my parents' estate. They have all those fancy wards and magical winged dogs and hit wizards guarding the property…"

His grey eyes flickered with something she couldn't identify.

It occurred to her maybe her confession was too much too fast. Haymitch was commitment phobic, terrified of anything resembling feelings and tended to put distance if she pushed too much. He always came back though. He was the one who stormed out more often than not, swearing he was done with her, but he always came back.

"The first time we slept together." he declared.

"I'm sorry?" she frowned.

"That's my code." he told her. "You will ask me when I knew you wouldn't be just another fling and I will say the first time we slept together. 'Cause you're a pain in my ass and a resilient one at that."

She was surprised he was willing to admit they were more than casual lovers.

She wasn't surprised when he kissed forcefully with an almost brutal hunger, as if he wanted to counter the softness of his previous declaration.

She let him nudge her to the bed, content in the knowledge that as long as they were together, they would be alright.