*dedicated to a certain friend of mine ;) who keeps begging me to post more. Are yeh happy now? LOL*
"Sweetheart?" November asked gently, leaning against the inner post of the doorway. "You look exhausted. Why don't you come in and relax?" Relax? He hardly knew the meaning of the word. She had managed to keep him from the ministry for a full two months, but that didn't mean he'd stopped working. He was still trying to develop charms to cure the Unforgivable Curses along with a young girl named Sarah Ritter, but he had a million other jobs as well. The Order of the Phoenix was trying to track down Voldemort so they could establish a full-fledged battle. At the same time they were working toward making the Ministry as safe and protected as Hogwarts School or Gringotts Bank. This required an ounce of knowledge of advanced magic, but it was mostly ancient magic dating back to the time of Merlin. Harry found himself miserably regretting the long naps he'd taken in Professor Binns' class. He had been pouring over books for weeks now, some as old as the founders of Hogwarts, and some written fully in Latin, all for some sort of spell that could aid the cause. He had spent the past three hours of this evening alone in his study, struggling through a book called "By Merlin's Beard: A Millennium of Magic".
He sighed deeply, a breath that started in the very pit of his stomach from exhaustion, and set the heavy book that had been lying on his lap down on the floor. "Oh, it's no use. I just don't know enough Latin or Old English." November smiled to herself and moved over to the chair where Harry was sitting. He had laid his glasses atop the glass table beside him and was now gently massaging his temples. He was the picture of overworked. In a way it was almost endearing. She stepped up behind him and, reaching her arms over the back of his chair, placed her hands on each of his shoulders. She began to lightly grind her fingers into his shoulder blades, knowing he must have gotten some sort of kink there from having sat in the same position for so long. He couldn't complain. Rather, he closed his eyes and eased himself into the massage, allowing himself a soft groan of comfort.
"Maybe you should look into taking classes or something. Isn't Percy taking Latin over in Italy?" she suggested softly. "You could ask them if they'll send you the material by owl. I mean, you don't need to speak it. Just read and write it, am I right? Anyway, it's getting late. And do you know what tomorrow is?" Harry placed his hands on hers, almost refusing to let her go. He didn't want to know what tomorrow was. He didn't want to take a Latin class, or read those books, or work for the Ministry. All he wanted at that moment was to be in the dark library with dozens of candles lit all around, such as it was now, and be with the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. He left his eyes closed, lost in his own fantasy.
"Mmm, no," he murmured, barely even awake. "What's tomorrow?" November wondered if she should be angry with this. How could he have forgotten? She knew he'd been working for the Ministry and the Order, and that lives hung in the balance, but why did he have to put so much weight on his own shoulders in the first place? Wasn't his family supposed to be more important? She narrowed her eyes at him (though he couldn't see her) and withdrew her hands.
"Tomorrow," she said curtly, "is your daughter's birthday. November 16th. How could you have forgotten?" Harry's eyes flew open with guilt. He sat straight up and turned around so quickly he nearly snapped his neck. How could he have forgotten? She moved quietly to sit beside him, not daring to look at him, and the guilt swelled in his heart like a balloon that just wouldn't pop. He watched her lower her head to look at her hands, mentally scolding himself for his mistake. There was something in those perfectly smooth hands, something white he could just barely see. Her hair spilt over her shoulders as she stared at the white thing. He wondered what it was, but didn't dare question it.
"Oh…oh November, honey, I'm so sorry," he apologized quickly. "I've been working on all these things and I hardly remember what day it is. Please love, lo siento. Lo siento muchísimo, y te promete, nunca jamás-" *trans: I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry, and I promise, never again-" * She lifted her head to match his eyes, her own eyes flashing in slight rage. He could tell she really didn't want to be angry. Her nature was too gentle for that. But she was upset, and she had every right to be.
"You can't expect a little Spanish to get you out of this one," she said quietly. He swallowed hard. "And besos aren't going to do it, either. *besos = kisses* Now I know Mr. Fudge had been working you awfully hard lately, and I know the Order expects a lot from you too, but you have your priorities. Family is more important than work. If you treat your daughter like she means nothing to you, you can expect her to act the same way towards you."
Little by little he noticed the hostility ebbing out of her voice. She left the white things in one hand, and wrapped her other arm around his arm to prove she still loved him. He linked his fingers around hers, and she squeezed his hand in return. He took this as a sign of his forgiveness, though he knew he still had quite a bit of work to do.
"Harry," she continued, "you've worked so hard to make this family work. When we were married, you made every effort to ensure I was safe. You bought us a house in a bit of a secluded area so You-Know-Who would find it hard to find us. When he…when he tried to get to Abby, you must have called in a hundred favors to make him back off and to move us into a safer home. You've done everything for us. I know you don't want to ruin that. Now, the Ministry can wait." She picked up the heavy, dusty book he'd been reading and dropped it to the floor. "Abby sent us an owl yesterday. I suggest you read it and write her a reply. Don't worry about her birthday gift. Seamus and I were in Hogsmeade the other day and we found her the most beautiful owl. He's a barn owl, golden tan with a little tuft of white under his beak. He hasn't got a name yet-I thought we'd let her name it. But you'd do well to mention him in your letter. I'm having him send it to her." She slid one of the things from her hand into his lap. It was a piece of rolled-up parchment with the Hogwarts seal on it for a delivery address. He started to unroll it, but her hand placed heavily on his stopped him.
"Wait-there's more." He gave her an inquisitive look as she pulled out the other item. It was a plain white card, small and completely unmarked. It looked eerily familiar, but how he recognized it he couldn't be sure. Was it perhaps a birthday card that he had to sign? No, she looked far too terrified of it. Her eyes were two large amber spheres; her face had paled slightly, and the fingers that clutched the card were trembling. Great Merlin, he thought, taking the card from her, she hasn't been this afraid of post since…A wave of ugly comprehension flooded over him. His eyes snapped up to look at her.
"It's not…" he trailed off, the tone of his voice dropping to a low murmur. She nodded.
"It is. Another letter from 'The Friend of the Foe'. It's got the Killing Curse on it, just like the others. This is the third one this month, and to be perfectly honest…Harry, I'm scared." This much was obvious to him. Was this the reason, the real reason, she didn't want to get terribly angry with him over Abby's birthday? He could feel her clinging tightly to his arm, as though doing so would somehow protect her. He felt a surge of power inside him at this. She was going to him for protection, and at that point that was all he wanted to give her. He pressed the palm of his hand gently against the side of her face, running it softly down her neck and around her shoulders until she was tucked safely in his embrace.
"Em, it's all right. Fudge says they're very close to finding whoever's been sending them. You're okay here with me. I won't let anything hurt you, I promise. And Abby's just fine at Hogwarts. Hagrid used to tell me that if you ever needed something kept safe, Hogwarts is the best place to keep it. So you know she's perfectly safe," he told her soothingly. He wanted to make her feel more comfortable. November was having none of this. She pushed his arm away impatiently, though still clutching to his other arm like some sort of lifeline.
"It's not me or Abby I'm worried about," she said shortly. "It's you. Everyone knows it's you You-Know-Who is after. Not me, not Abby. You. Because you lived. You dared to survive the curse that should have killed you, and you fought his allies and won. The name Potter has a bitter taste on his tongue because of you. I know it's not a child that's doing this. Murder is not child's play. This is something a Death Eater would do, and Lord knows they're not easy to put into prison. More than likely they'll claim to be under the Cruciatus Curse or something. You've got to put an end to this. Please. Let me be your Secret-Keeper."
The words came as a surprise to him. November? Be his Keeper? They had talked about doing it before, but never separately. Never had she suggested that he alone get a Keeper. Now that he thought about it, it made more than a little more sense to do that. Voldemort wasn't after both of them as he had been after his parents. He was only after him. But then, ten years ago he had proved to be after Abby as well. So should November be responsible for the both of them? Could she? Should they pull Abby out of school to do it? A thousand thoughts made his head swim. He leaned his head back against the armchair and sighed.
"All right. I'll think about it," he said, which was more than he'd said to her about it before.