A/N: Real quick things for you to know about this fic -
- Canon compliant to DH/no epilogue
- Following the Battle of Hogwarts, Seventh Years (Harry's class) were graduated, but everyone below them had to repeat the previous year (Carrows didn't teach anything, after all) - so Ginny/Luna's year had to repeat 6th, then do 7th year.
- I hate quidditch, so please don't be upset if i fuck up anything to do with it.
- *Not* a Ginny-bashing fic, but Gwenog Jones doesn't get treated very well.
- This was for my Oneshot Winter, but... again, it's too damn long.
Enjoy!
Megan Jones hated her job.
Oh, sure, it could be worse. The pay was fair, enough to rent a small studio flat in a mixed muggle-wizarding town near Swansea and still have a bit of gold leftover. The hours might be long, but they were predictable. And no doubt there was a line of applicants waiting just outside the door for her job, should they get the opportunity.
Nevertheless, as she walked towards the nearest public Floo connection, she had to admit being a sport 'trainer' wasn't at all how she wanted to spend her life. She didn't even like quidditch.
Just then, something caught her heel from behind, causing her to stumble. She nearly dropped her coffee and actually did lose the grip on her purse, the bag falling to the ground and spilling its contents all over the sidewalk.
"I'm so sorry!" A muggle woman, maybe three or four years older than Megan, flipped the brake on her sleek and shiny pram and immediately bent down to gather her things. "It was completely my fault! I swear, I'm just wandering around like a zombie. I feel like I haven't slept in a week!"
Megan, with the stranger's assistance, quickly gathered her possessions and stuffed them back inside her handbag before slinging it over her shoulder. Her eyes locked onto the tiny baby inside the pram. "It's no problem, really. No harm done. How old is she?"
"Twelve weeks."
She gave the woman a sympathetic glance. "Just starting her sleeping problems, then?" Megan squatted down on the balls of her feet, peering at the smiling baby. She couldn't resist a smile of her own, immediately taken with the chubby cheeks and tiny hands reaching to her. "You've got to be on your best behavior and let your Mum get some rest!"
"The doctors say she should settle down in a few more weeks, but I don't know if I'll survive that long," the mother said, eyeing Megan's coffee with undisguised envy. "You don't know what I'd give for some caffeine!"
Megan dragged her gaze away from the infant with some difficulty. "She's gorgeous."
The expression on her face must have been more transparent than she'd thought, as the woman laughed gaily. "You're far too young to be wearing that look. Sometimes I feel like I'm too young to be a mother!"
She only had a smile to offer in reply to that remark. Exchanging polite farewells, Megan glanced one more time at the chubby face staring out of the pram before continuing on her way.
It wasn't an uncommon encounter, though Megan was positive she'd never met that particular mother before. Swansea was booming, and as the city grew, the surrounding towns started to absorb some of the increased population. The village positively bustled with young families making their way in the world.
It wasn't what she'd expected when she decided to return to Wales after leaving Hogwarts. Whereas most of her classmates elected to live in and around London when the dust from the war's end settled, Megan opted to instead move to Laudffen. Being so close to the Diagon or the Ministry after everything that had happened felt suffocating. This town, until recently more of a village, was homey, friendly, and quiet. A place where she could still feel she belonged.
And besides, her mother was born in Laudffen. Sometimes, she pretended she was walking in her mother's actual footsteps. It was nice to imagine that, to transplant the woman she'd only seen in photographs few and far between into her daily life.
Making her way into a garish building painted in loud, clashing colours, a raspy voice greeted her. "Morning! Lookin' as lovely as ever, Miss Jones."
"It's half-past eleven, hardly morning." Garth Keelan, the proprietor of the Dusty Dragon, a tiny tavern that centered the magical community in Laudffen, was a man who prized routines - one of which, apparently, was his daily greeting to her. "I woke up late, got any lunch I can snag to go?"
"How about a bacon butty? Made 'em myself not an hour ago."
Megan's mouth involuntarily watered at just the thought of his sandwiches, stuffed with bacon, butter, and a fried egg. "I shouldn't…" she hedged, well aware of the way her favourite pair of jeans had left angry red marks on her hips the last time she wore them. "Do you have anything lighter? Maybe a salad?"
"Nonsense! You need your strength to keep our girls in the air, least-wise 'til we can convince you to jump ship to Caerphilly." The Caerphilly Catapults were the other Welsh team in the British League, based not that far from Swansea, making them the local preference. "Here's your butty. I'll add it to your tab, I know you're running late."
"Thanks, Garth. I'll see you later!" She accepted the sandwich and tossed a pinch of powder into the hearth, calling out her destination and vanishing a moment later.
The Harpies, like most League teams, practiced on their own pitch. With only thirteen squads and a public devoted to the sport, the British and Irish League teams wanted for nothing, so there was a platoon of groundskeepers to repair any damage to the facility immediately after each practice. Their jobs weren't all that dissimilar from her own, Megan thought to herself as she walked past the ground crew towards the locker room. They put the pitch back together every day, and she did the same for the players.
Megan greeted the other two trainers, setting her bag down and arranging her supplies. "Anything I need to know about last night's match?"
"The rookie dislocated her right kneecap, came in complaining about stiffness and mobility issues. You know how League healers are," Brynne Sealey, the head of the training staff, replied. "They poured a bunch of pain potions down her throat and sent her back into the match. By the time I saw her, the swelling was so bad it was all I could do to get the joint back in place."
"Okay." Megan pulled out some potions of her own, along with some medicinal creams. "Everyone else made it through all right?"
"Your auntie's still having troubles with her shoulder, but I thought I'd take care of her." Megan had known Brynne as far back as she could remember, and didn't bother to disguise the flash of relief she felt ripple across her own face. "Just to warn you, though - she and the new kid have been inseparable. Thick as thieves, the two of them."
Megan never had the chance to reply, as the clatter of the approaching players quickly increased in volume. The doors to the pitch burst open and the Holyhead Harpies entered the locker room.
Their faces were flushed, eyes bright with excitement and adrenaline. Just like always, they continued their conversations with each other while the trainers worked, casually undressing to allow diagnostic spells cast over them. Megan settled down on the bench in front of the Harpies' newest star, selected with the second overall pick in the draft.
"-so I told him he was free to go alone if it was so important to him, but Holyhead's right on the cusp of a spot in the semifinals, and there was nothing he could say to get me to miss a practice." Ginny Weasley's breathing was starting to level out, but her long red hair was still matted down against her forehead and neck in sweaty strands. Other than a wince when Megan slowly manipulated her injured leg, she didn't spare a second glance at the other woman, fully engrossed in her conversation with the team captain, Gwenog Jones. Megan's aunt. "Just because Puddlemere's top-ranked, he acts like I'm flying for the Cannons or something."
"He'd probably prefer you were," Gwenog said, already face-down on a table while Brynne worked on her shoulder. "I bet it drives him crazy we're making a run at the post-season. Just you wait, he'll find more excuses to try and keep you off the pitch."
Megan briefly looked at Ginny's expression, reading the doubt on her features, before flicking her gaze back to the work at hand. "I don't think that's it. Harry just- he doesn't get it. He's never had to try to be famous, for better or for worse. He has no idea what it means to struggle to get noticed, or why it matters so much to me. I mean, I'm in line for Rookie of the Year! How can he think I have time for some dull Ministry event?"
"He's a man, honey. They don't need to understand because they've got women to do all the real work for them."
"He's just being so unfair. I was so happy for him when he got the award for his rookie season! I got special permission from the Headmistress to attend the ceremony just to support him!"
Harry Potter, like Megan and most of the others whose Seventh Year had been interrupted by the war and You-Know-Who's reign of terror, elected not to return to Hogwarts. The Ministry offered a special waiver, providing them with honorary diplomas, while everyone else had to repeat their previous year. He'd been drafted first overall by Puddlemere United, who'd exchanged picks with Chudley plus offered their next five first-rounders in a blockbuster trade.
Gwenog's scoff cut through Megan's thoughts. "'Unanimous choice' my arse. I'm surprised they didn't give him a lifetime achievement award. No one was going to vote for anyone but the war-hero. He has no clue how hard you're working."
This time there was no doubt on Ginny's face. "You're right, Gwen. He- ow!"
"Sorry," Megan apologised, pulling out her wand to immobilise Ginny's leg. "How did you dislocate your knee?"
"I was diving for a deflected quaffle and my toe caught on the turf."
Megan winced, imagining the pain from having a knee wrenched out of place while likely flying faster than a hundred miles an hour. "The League healers should have grounded you, the cartilage in this knee is a mess-"
"That's why you're here, and she's out there," her aunt said, turning her head to look past Megan and shoot a wink at the rookie. "Ginny caught the quaffle and scored, and after she returned added another four goals to the tally."
A very different sort of flush spread across the newest chaser's face at the praise. "Thanks, Cap," she said softly.
Feeling suddenly awkward and out of place, Megan focused hard on the numbing charm she was preparing to cast and got to work, trying to repair the damaged knee as best she could.
Brynne and the other staff at Holyhead liked to say Megan was born for her role in sports medicine. After all, starting at the tender age of five, she'd lived most of her life inside the walls of the Holyhead stadium and facilities. It was all she knew before starting Hogwarts, and after she graduated, comprised the totality of her professional network.
It wasn't that she necessarily disliked the work, no; healing was immensely satisfying, and important. Especially having lived through a war that rocked the nation. If Megan had to work, she couldn't think of a better job than helping the injured or sick. She was even good at it - Madam Pomfrey sang her praises more than once and wrote a very kind letter of recommendation.
But Ministry waiver or no, St. Mungo's had high standards of acceptance to their apprentice program, so when Brynne offered her a position on the training team at Holyhead, Megan had little choice but to accept. It was Healer training, of a sort, and it paid well. She could do worse, and her own goals never relied all that heavily on her profession, anyway.
No, Megan Jones' dreams never involved what she'd do for a living, much to her aunt's disgust.
She Floo-ed back to Laudffen, tiredly waving in Garth's direction as she made her way back to her flat. It was just past dinnertime, but Megan was too tired and drained from hours of spell-casting to prepare a meal. Healing was a demanding school of magic, and she wasn't exactly a gifted witch to start with.
As she lay on her sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling, Megan thought back to the conversation she'd had to listen to. Ginny should have known better than to get involved with a quidditch player, and a seeker, at that. It was in their nature to work alone, separate from the team, isolated and independent. None of those were traits she'd want in a partner.
Still, if she had someone to love, she wouldn't be so demanding. Sure, she could understand the younger witch's desire to achieve her goals. But Megan was a traditional sort of witch. There was a difference between having goals and being difficult.
What was she doing to fulfill her own ambitions, though? She'd been out of Hogwarts for three years already, for crying out loud! At this rate, she'd never get what she wanted out of life.
Even through her exhaustion, a firm determination settled somewhere deep within her. There wasn't time for excuses.
With her thoughts from the night before still running around her mind, Megan stumbled out of the fireplace. Was the Leaky Cauldron ever not crowded? It was so different from Garth's Dusty Dragon, from Laudffen's quiet calm.
Magical Britain had come roaring back after the war ended, a boom that continued to this day. There was an optimism, an assurance that the future was going to be brighter than the past. It was different from the end of the first war, Brynne told her; so many of the people that had manipulated events behind the scenes had been killed, there'd been few obstacles to stand in the way of change.
Megan clutched her purse and the enchanted supplies bag as she slipped through the rush of people crowding the near side of Diagon Alley. Merlin, it was busy today! Thankfully, the press of people seemed to diffuse the further she made her way into the Alley, and she had room to pull out the list of potions and ingredients Brynne had sent her to retrieve. She was mentally tallying which shops to visit first to get in and out when a familiar voice called her name.
"Hey! I thought that was you!"
"Sue, hi, how are you?" Her old Housemate approached in her crimson auror robes, dragging along another face Megan easily recognised. "And Wayne, nice to see you as well."
"Susan's my partner," Wayne Hopkins said with a smile, clad in the same uniform.
"Is that all?" Megan asked in a teasing voice, nodding her head to their clasped hands and eliciting a blush from Susan.
"We're on duty, you berk!" she hissed, giving him a light slap on the shoulder.
"You were the one that grabbed my hand and dragged me over here, though!"
"Only because you're as slow as molasses!" With her dark red hair, crimson robes, and blushing cheeks, Susan looked like a bruised tomato. "How have you been, Meggie? You're never around."
"I live in Wales now. It just seemed like a better fit, after the war and all."
Wayne raised his eyebrows. "So? Why does that matter?"
"My flat's not connected to the Floo, and I work a lot of hours."
"Tell me about it, I feel like we never get any time to-"
Susan interrupted her- her boyfriend? - to lean in closer to her old dorm-mate. "Hannah thought you might be avoiding us. She was worried."
"What? Why on earth would I be avoiding you?"
"She sent out wedding invitations almost six weeks ago. You never RSVP'd."
"I- she did?" An ugly feeling settled in her stomach at that news. Something like envy. "Her and Neville?"
"That's right," Susan said, ignorant of Megan's discomfort. "I don't know why they've waited so long to finally get on with it. Between you and me, I think she kept putting off his proposal because she wasn't ready to take over as Lady Longbottom. So what's the deal? Are you not coming?"
"I'd love to. The invitation must have just been misplaced." Likely buried somewhere within the massive pile of unread mail littering her kitchen table. "I'll send her a note as soon as I can."
"Don't worry about it. Wayne and I are going over to the manor for dinner tonight. I can tell her then. Do you need a plus one?"
That feeling in her stomach twisted and tightened. "Er, no, that's not necessary."
"Really? Would'a figured Mother Meggie'd have a whole litter by now," Wayne said with a laugh, one quickly cut off by a sharp elbow from Susan. "What?"
"Let her be, there's no rushing these things."
Megan cleared her throat, eager for a change of topic. "So, you two, huh?"
"For about eight months," Susan replied with a nod. "I doubt we'll make it to a year, though."
"Oi!"
They all laughed, and if Megan's was forced, no one would have noticed. "Tell Hannah I'll Floo her on my next day off to get the details. I'm so happy for her."
"I thought you didn't have a connection to the Floo network?"
"The local tavern does, and I'm a regular."
Susan's expression evened out, and Megan felt her blue eyes run over her as though piecing together an investigation. "She'll be delighted to hear from you, just like I was to see you. We should probably finish our patrol. School shopping day and all, got to keep an eye on things. Bye Meggie!"
"Good to see you again, Megan!" Wayne added, before the two walked off.
She watched them go for a moment longer, noting how their strides were close enough for their hands to brush with every step. Megan was happy for them, and for Hannah, she really was. It was just…
Unbidden, her gaze swept over the Alley, taking in the happy children, the smiling parents. Families out and about, arms full of purchases, excitement and love filling the streets so completely it was tangible. It was all she'd ever wanted.
And it wasn't what she had.
With a sigh, she forced herself to refocus on the list in her hand. They'd need these supplies before today's practice ended.
It didn't take a mind healer to figure out Megan's life was, in large part, decided for her by the circumstances of her birth. She was born to a teenage mother named Maggie Madsen, a muggleborn witch sorted into Gryffindor that raised her until Megan was four years old. She somehow contracted a case of Scrofungulus and, rather than risk her daughter being infected, left her at the entrance of Florean Fortescue's one early morning. She died less than a week later, at twenty-one years old.
That was everything Megan knew of her mother. After her Fourth Year, she'd asked her only muggleborn friend, Justin Finch-Fletchley, for help in finding her mother's family. He was well-connected in the muggle world, and his parents had the resources to conduct an efficient search for her. A search that, unfortunately, produced only the information that her maternal grandparents had died in an auto accident years prior.
Megan desperately wished she were able to remember her mother, but she was too young when Maggie died for even faded impressions to linger. Florean had turned her over to the Ministry, who'd confirmed her identity with blood tests from Gringotts before placing her with her last surviving relative. An aunt, her father's sister.
A young woman that was already being hailed as the most talented to play at her position in generations. An orphan herself, one that lost her brother in addition to her parents. A guardian - an unwilling one, perhaps - who'd been only too happy to fill in the blanks of her niece's personal history.
"What are you working on over there?"
Megan jumped, startled by Brynne's quiet approach. She hurriedly tapped the parchment with her wand to dry the ink before rolling it up. "It's nothing."
"Judging by how hard you were concentrating, it certainly was something." Megan ducked her head, familiar feelings of shame flooding her being. The last thing she wanted was to explain why she'd been so focused. "It's nothing to do with work, though, is it?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Brynne sat down beside her on the bench outside of the locker room. The Harpies' practice was running late, so the training staff was stuck waiting for them to finish. "I was afraid you might be penning a letter of resignation, after yesterday."
"Oh." Yesterday was rather unpleasant, but Megan was well and truly used to the vulgarities of professional athletes. It had been hurtful, and embarrassing, but she'd got over it. "It wasn't that big a deal."
'You stupid bitch! Can't you do anything right?'
Brynne, despite decades more experience in this field, didn't seem to share her attitude. "She was out of line. Being good on a broom doesn't give her license to treat other people that way."
'My knee's worse than ever, you feckless cow! Get away from me!'
"I made an appointment to speak with the owner. I won't have my staff spoken to in such a manner."
"That's really not necessary."
"It's not your call, Megan, I-"
Their discussion was interrupted by the players' arrival. The starting five and the alternates split up, with the starters heading for the locker room and the alternates returning the equipment. The players were in high spirits, still suffused with the glow of their victory over Tutshill two nights before. That win put them in fifth place, just outside of the postseason, with six games left before the season's end.
One of the women split off from the others, and even if it weren't for her distinctive hair, Megan would have recognised her from the slight limp. "Can I speak with you?"
Brynne rose from her seat and put herself between the two of them. "I don't think so."
Ginny ignored her, eyes only for Megan. "I wanted to apologise. I was out of line yesterday. I've been going through some personal stuff, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."
Megan stood up, nodding an acceptance of her words. "Let's get you inside so I can look at that knee."
The three of them went inside the locker room, Brynne making her way towards the other players to work on injuries, new and old, while Megan waited for Ginny to disrobe. "If the playoff race wasn't so tight, I'd sit out of practice. It's just not getting better."
"It's not the practice, it's the matches," Megan said, running her wand over Ginny's leg for diagnostics before setting it aside to manipulate the joint by hand. "Your knee tries to tell you what hurts and what doesn't. You can't keep pushing yourself and expect it to get better."
"It felt better against Tutshill, though. I thought it was finally over."
Megan didn't doubt Ginny felt fantastic. With the amount of pain-relieving potions League healers typically employed, she could have taken a bludger to the face and kept smiling.
The rule that only healers employed by the British and Irish League could be present for matches came from a good place. It started in 1814 after the Banchory Bangers were disbanded. While the team's erratic and outrageous behavior was the official cause of their banishment, unofficially the performance-enhancing potions their healing staff routinely prescribed was the real cause. Following that embarrassment, it was decided that no team would be allowed to employ their own healers, and that only the League's own medical representatives would provide treatment to players during matches. It was why Megan was a 'trainer', and not an actual healer.
But quidditch was the most popular sport in the magical world. For the British and Irish League, especially, it was a metaphorical gold mine, and nothing drove ticket and merchandise sales like star players. League healers, originally there to provide fair and neutral treatment, soon took on the singular purpose of keeping players in the air at any cost, using any method. And the method they usually employed was pain-relieving potions - lots, and lots of them.
"That was just the potions, your knee wasn't actually better."
"Can't you give me the same potions? It really hurts." It probably did, as this was the most the rookie had ever spoken to Megan the whole season.
"Sorry, we're not allowed." Instead, she picked up her wand again, pausing to gather the necessary energy and focus before whispering the incantation for the numbing charm.
"I really am sorry about yesterday. I'm always a little cranky after matches, but… things haven't been all that great off the pitch for me. It wasn't fair to you."
'That's what withdrawal will do to you' Megan thought, but instead of voicing that opinion simply replied, "It's okay. We all have bad days."
A passing glance at Ginny's face showed the younger witch looking at her with an amused curiosity. "You don't read the papers, then, do you." It was more a statement than a question.
"I moved to Wales to get away from all that. I glance at the Prophet's headlines on occasion." Megan thought about the parchment rolled up in her robes and considered she might send for a subscription soon, however. Still, distracting her from her knee might be beneficial. "Is everything alright?"
"My boyfriend's been-"
Whatever gossip she'd been prepared to share was destined to remain unsaid, as at that moment a commotion broke out just outside the locker room, clearly audible through the doors.
"Sir, you can't-"
"Get out of my way."
"I really can't let you-"
"You really can't stop me, so put your wand down and move."
Ginny grabbed her wand and stepped towards the entrance just as the doors glowed with a white light before dissolving into a misty vapour. Through it, Megan could make out two terrified security wizards with their wands half-raised, hesitant for some reason despite an intruder apparently hell-bent on storming into a room full of professional quidditch players. Full of nude professional quidditch players.
A jet of yellow-green light lanced out of Ginny's wand, striking the ceiling with a hiss after a casual deflection by the intruder. As Harry Potter stepped through the smoky air, Megan realised she was likely about to have a front-row seat to find out just what Ginny had been about to tell her.
"What the hell are you doing here? Get out!" Ginny's furious demand was accompanied by several shrieks from the other players, scrambling for towels or robes.
Harry, though, was heedless of the witches on display, eyes only for his girlfriend. "So you won't talk to me, but you'll give an interview to Witch Weekly? You know Penny's been getting threats because of you? She had to close her shop for the day!"
"You've got some nerve, coming here to defend her!"
Megan stepped backwards, eager to not get caught between the squabbling couple. Still, she couldn't resist a thorough examination of their trespasser. It was actually the first time she'd seen Harry Potter in person since Dumbledore's funeral at the end of their Sixth Year. He was taller than she remembered, hair a little shorter but still as wild as ever. That hair, and his bright green eyes, were about the only things familiar about this man, though. Harry had changed.
He moved with a confidence, a lithe grace that seemed so foreign to her memory of the undersized little boy positively swimming in his Gryffindor robes. That certainly wouldn't be an issue for him now, she idly thought, letting her gaze fall from his face to his broad shoulders and lean, muscular arms, easily on display beneath the tight shirt he wore.
"I asked you to come to the Ministry gala. I begged you, and you refused. What was I supposed to do?" His voice pulled her out of her- out of… whatever those idle few seconds had been.
"You were supposed to be faithful to me!"
"I was! I have been!"
Ginny scoffed, a cynical snarl twisting her lips. "Clearwater looked awfully cosy on your arm."
"That's just how the papers made it look. I brought her so she could get some good PR for Witch Watchers, that's all!" By now, they were practically nose-to-nose.
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"By fucking talking to me!"
"That's enough, Potter," Gwenog interrupted, as unconcerned as Ginny about her lack of clothing. She also held her wand in her hand. "It's time for you to go."
He shot a dismissive glance in her aunt's direction. "This is between me and Gin, stay out of it."
"You've made it my business, coming here like this."
Harry laughed. Laughed. Megan held her breath as he turned to fully confront her aunt. "And what are you going to do about it, Jones?"
"You're trespassing on private property, and you've destroyed team equipment. Don't make me call the aurors."
"You're talking about the doors?" He actually looked amused at the threat, but that expression vanished when he turned back to his girlfriend. "Come with me. We need to talk."
"She's not going anywhere with you!"
Ignoring Gwenog, Harry tried again. "C'mon, Gin. Please."
"Just go, Harry. You don't belong here."
His eyes widened, but only for a moment, before a blank look settled over his features. "Fine."
And with that, he turned around and left, snapping his fingers as he exited, the doors reforming out of the lingering mist back to their original condition.
"Are you alright, luv?" Gwenog wrapped an arm around Ginny, turning the younger woman so she could fully embrace her. "Let's get you a cuppa and have a chat."
Megan watched her aunt's hand slide down Ginny's back to rest lightly on her hip. Somehow, she doubted she'd be working on the rookie's knee any longer today. They were all the same; what was it about a League contract that made wizards and witches so faithless and untrustworthy?
Oh well. She reached into her robes, running her fingers over the scroll in her pocket. She needed to find an owl to send this, anyway, before she lost her courage.