Further warnings: some sport, some fighting, some unexpected news…(some really bad summary writing…)
Sympathetic Magic: Part Eight - Seventh Year - Term Two
"Have you seen my copy of 'Truth in the Tarot'?" Ron asked, squatting in front of their bookcase. Harry's hand came to rest on his shoulder, the other pointing to the book Ron was looking for. Their room had been a welcome haven from the rest of the school these last weeks, as they celebrated their union away from prying eyes. Ron had been interested to hear about the Muggle custom of a honeymoon, and was hoping to take Harry for one in the summer holidays.
"It's right in front of you, dear," Harry murmured and Ron choked, almost losing his balance and pulling out the book for their Divination class this morning.
"Ta, ducks," he replied as he straightened and tucked the book in the bag. Harry's eyes were sparkling with amusement as he opened the window and propped their brooms on the sill. He shivered at the cool air that blasted in, and pulled his robes closer around him.
They had charmed their rings - using the same I-am-not-here charm that they had on the tent - allowing them to wear their bands to school. The first day back no one had noticed at all, except Neville, Hermione and Ginny, who already knew they were there. School life had gone on for them without any noticeable difference; except for the new pet names they had taken to using in private or with their wedding guests. Neville found it particularly funny and had a hard time keeping a straight face when they started up their 'old married couple' routine.
"Come on luv, we'll be late," Ron whispered in his ear and Harry chuckled. He had rarely felt so content. He had Ron and a future together, one that hadn't been prophesised to end in murder and destruction. He was certain of it deep in his heart. If this was the gift of Divination kicking in, Harry didn't want to question it too closely.
"Coming pet," Harry replied, unsealing the door. Today the International Quidditch teams would be arriving, around about dinnertime. As a result the rest of the students - not to mention Ron and Harry - were very excited. Professor Dumbledore was going to let them out early from the lessons just before dinner to let the school welcome them. As Head Girl, Hermione would be showing one team up to the Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady had been returned to her post, and the room where Dudley had stayed had been removed.
"Harry! Ron! You ready?" Neville called from his place beside the entrance, and Harry grinned, waving good morning. Neville was as excited as anybody, though his skills on a broom were negligible.
"Ready, Nev," Harry agreed, "Calm down."
"But Harry, there's two International Quidditch teams coming here! This is even better than the Tri-Wizard Cup!" Neville grinned, then blanched, remembering just who had competed in the Cup and what had happened to him. Harry laughed, patting Neville's arm as they walked down the corridor to the stairs.
"Its ok, Nev, I understand. And you're right, because there is no way I can get caught up in the middle of it," Harry winked at Ron who made noises like 'better bloody well not either'. Harry shook his head as they headed down the stairs. They had a flying lesson this morning, and he was planning to take the first years for a bit of an obstacle course around the castle in order to develop their agility skills. Their second Monday tutoring session with the Headmaster was scheduled to take place in the school grounds after their final lesson for the afternoon. The first lessons had been very difficult, as Dumbledore tested their ability to shield against powerful spells. They had always known the Headmaster was a powerful Wizard, but the strength of his attacks had left them breathless and drained.
"Harry!" Beth squealed, and slid down the banister to catch them up, "Isn't this exciting!"
"Very!" Harry laughed as he caught her, "You want to be careful though, Beth. If Filch saw that you'd have a detention quicker than you can say Lemon Drops."
"Aw, Harry," Beth shook her head, hugging him and letting go, "He'd have to catch me first."
Harry bit back a laugh and let Ron take over, lecturing her on courtesy and school rules so gently that he doubted it would make a big difference to her behaviour in the future. Neville distracted him with a question about the teams that were coming - by now the school knew that he and Ron were honorary teachers, and most figured they had an inside track to the staff gossip.
The Great Hall was buzzing with chat, and even the teachers looked excited by the days coming attractions. Harry slid into a seat beside Justin Finch-Fletchley and paid the owl that was waiting with their morning paper. Malfoy slid into the seat opposite him and scowled at them all on general principal. Harry could ignore that easily enough now; he had Ron's fingers wrapped around his and Justin's excited talk to listen to instead.
0oo0oo0
"Today we're going to work on safely using agility and speed. I realise that with the guests we're expecting that you're all eager to shoot off like Quidditch players, but I'll remind you that we're not here to try out for the England team. We're here to learn the skills that will be useful should you ever have to react to an emergency," Harry eyed the boy from Ravenclaw who was fidgeting eagerly, obviously hell bent on getting into the air and showing off his skills as a broom flyer. Roger Whitfield had been boasting about his abilities from day one, and Harry had been forced to ground the boy in several lessons when he insisted on ignoring instructions.
"As you can see I've set up a series of floating blue buoys, marking the course I want you to take around the school. There are also several other buoys in varying colours. Some of these will shoot dye or other substances at you, others will move into your path and some will do nothing at all. And before you start guessing which colour does which, I've mixed them up. One colour does not stand for one particular type of action," Harry glanced at the Slytherin students who looked a bit disappointed. It was their way to try and exploit patterns like that to their advantage, a part of the natural talent for planning that Slytherin House valued. He bit down on a grin and held out the bag with the numbered discs he'd borrowed from the staff room.
"You'll go in the order that your number comes up," he continued and watched as they spent a few minutes pulling out their discs and matching them against their friends. Roger was trying to convince people to swap, to let him go first. Harry put a stop to that by pulling out the lowest number and handing it to the boy with a frown. Roger tossed his red hair at Harry angrily and moved to stand at the back of the class, sulking.
Harry pulled out his wand and aimed it at the first buoy. He murmured the spell that would deactivate it and told everyone to mount their brooms. He led them along the course once so they'd know where to go, and then had them line up on the ground.
"I'll be above you so I can watch the course and you while you wait. Number one," Harry gestured to the girl from Slytherin and mounted his broom, kicking off smoothly and soaring to his vantage point. He had a stopwatch and clipboard to record people's times, and started the watch as she passed the first buoy.
Things progressed well enough. The students waiting were fairly quiet, and cheered their friends on, keeping time on their own watches. Roger was standing back from them all, keeping time and watching them carefully. Several of the buoys acted like limited bludgers, designed to chase you without coming into contact. Harry didn't want anyone actually knocked off their brooms. He would assign a score for each student depending on their ability to avoid getting spattered or bumped, and how quickly they managed the course.
He watched his most nervous flyer - from his own House, sadly - as the boy swerved cautiously from side to side. His was the slowest time, but he also managed to avoid getting splattered with dye completely, and the proud grin he shot his teacher as he went past had Harry grinning back in sympathy. The kid reminded him so much of Neville at that age that it wasn't hard for Harry to put up with the nerves and mistakes, encouraging him gently.
Roger Whitfield was next, and had taken off before the second last student was on the ground. Harry tightened his grip on his wand and watched closely as Roger sent his broom careening carelessly through the first part of the course. He growled in frustration as the student actually bounced off one of the immovable buoys and failed to avoid any of the dye buoys at all. He tightened his grip on his broom when Roger bounced off one of the moving buoys and shot forward when the collision sent the boy into a spin, heading directly for the spire on the north tower.
"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled, but the spell didn't do much to slow the boys out of control movement at all, "Immobilous!"
Roger heard that one being shouted and ducked the spell deliberately, his broom wobbling dangerously. Harry was close to him now and simply reached over, grabbed Roger's robes by the neck and yanked hard, his bond with Ron humming. The Ravenclaw lost his grip and Harry hauled him onto the Firebolt, snarling with effort and pulling up on the handle to get the broom to ascend enough to clear the tower.
"What…!" Roger squeaked as his broom spiralled slowly to the ground below. Harry growled again in his ear and the slender boy fell silent as the badly unbalanced broom sank down to the lawn beside the front steps.
"You're to take yourself to Professor Flitwick's classroom and wait for me there," Harry ordered curtly, "I've been patient, I've tried taking points, I've given you a detention. If you're going to continue to endanger my life and yours then we'll have to try something else."
Roger gulped at the cold fury in his teachers voice and Harry watched him go inside. He took a deep breath, and straightened his robes. He headed back towards the rest of the first years, hoping that the clipboard had hit no one when it fell. Ron and the second years were standing with his class when he returned to them, and Ron looked at him in concern. Harry knew that his temper was still showing on his face, and made an effort to smile for his students.
"Put your broom back in the shed neatly, please," he requested, "Then you may return to the castle for your next lesson. Has anyone seen Mr Whitfield's broom?"
"I have it," the nervous Gryffindor held it up and Harry smiled in thanks. He sent the spell that would put the buoys back in their containers into the sky and waited while Ron finished speaking to his own class. He gave his broom to Ron, and trudged back into the castle to deal with Roger and his stubborn attitude.
0oo0oo0
"Hey, where's Harry?" Hermione asked as she joined Ron on the front steps. He sighed and turned to look at her, their breath steaming in the cold air.
"He's inside. One of his students tried to impale himself on the North tower, just before Divination. I think Harry's still sorting it all out."
"He was wicked, he grabbed Roger right off his broom!" Beth piped up, from where she was standing, and Ron raised his eyebrows at her. She blushed and scuffed her shoe on the cold stone, unable to meet the censure in his eyes.
"Which I promise not to try and do ever," she added reluctantly and Ron nodded curtly. The last thing they needed was for the second years to go around trying to pull each other off their brooms. Harry had only managed by leaning into the bond to partially levitate Roger. As the second years didn't have that option available to them it would be better that they didn't try at all.
"Oh dear," Hermione sighed. Ron shrugged. It was so important to Harry that he be a good teacher and give his students the best education he could, that this little stunt would have him brooding. Before they could continue the conversation Neville and Seamus arrived. They were talking about the two teams that the school was going to host, and wondering how they'd get here.
"Australia's a long way off, maybe they'll Apparate or something!" Neville was saying quietly. Hermione shook her head and looked at the once fat teen. Ron reflected that Neville had grown into a quietly confident young man. If he hadn't been madly in love with Harry, Ron might have tried it on with Neville.
"It's too far to Apparate," she chastised, recalling Ron's wandering thoughts, "You know that, Neville. They'll probably have something like the Beaubaxton's or the Durmstrang's."
"Or they'll walk up from Hogsmeade," Harry said in an amused tone from behind them. Ron glanced up at his partner and then followed the pointing finger. Sure enough a group of men and women in green and gold robes were walking steadily up the path from Hogsmeade with their gear floating along behind them. The students cheered and waved in welcome, getting smiles and waves in response. The Head Boy from Hufflepuff was already standing beside the Headmaster, waiting to show them up to the Gryffindor tower.
"When did you get here?" Ron asked quietly as Harry's hand pressed into the small of his back.
"A few seconds ago," Harry sighed, "Professor Flitwick has given him two weeks of detention and is sending a letter to his parents. Apparently I'm not the only one he doesn't listen to. He's even mucked Snape about."
"Bloody hell," Ron sounded impressed. They'd opposed Snape a few times themselves, and it had always been nerve wracking. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward to say hello to Madam Hooch, who was leading the Australians. The Head Boy, William Blake of Hufflepuff, stepped forward to walk the team up to Gryffindor Tower. The tanned and mainly tall Witches and Wizards smiled at the students as they walked past, waving when someone shouted hello or waved to them.
"How'd they get here?" Seamus whispered to Harry, who grinned. Most Wizards forgot that there were non-magical ways to travel. From the tingle of the equipment as it passed, the Australians had laid some concealment charms on their gear to avoid attracting the attention of Muggles.
"Probably on a plane," he shrugged, "And then Apparated to Hogsmeade. That would be the easiest way. Muggle transport can be useful at times."
"That's not much fun!" Seamus mock complained and then circulated the idea to the people around them. Harry laughed and Ron shook his head. He was married to a Muggle raised Wizard, which meant that he'd be experiencing a lot of Muggle culture and methods as he coaxed Harry to show him the world beyond Wizardry. It was important to Ron that his spouse felt that his world and experiences were valued. It was one of many ways that Ron could show Harry he was loveable.
"Do you think Fiji came the same way?" Hermione asked quietly and Ron shrugged, looking back at Harry for his opinion. Harry nodded down the path again, and Ron turned to watch the Fiji team hurry along, their breath also steaming in the cold air as the students cheered in welcome. Ron felt a bit sorry for them - they'd come from hot summer to freezing winter, and the shock to the system would not have been pleasant. Hermione slipped through the students to be ready to take the team to the tower they'd be living in. Professor Dumbledore and Madame Hooch and arranged for the teams to have a separate dining room, and another suite of large rooms that would let them practice some skills indoors, as they would have to share the Quidditch pitch for training.
"Well," Harry sighed, "I guess we'd better get indoors."
Ron followed him up the main steps, biting his lip. Harry was brooding already, just as he'd feared. On impulse he grabbed Harry's robes while the rest of the school filed into the Great Hall for dinner, and tugged his partner discreetly along the corridor towards the kitchen. Harry was silent, moving where directed, obviously thinking that Ron had a bracing chat in mind and obviously determined to weather it with patience.
Ron pulled his partner into a handy cupboard, sealed the door and dropped to his knees before Harry could do more than draw a breath to reassure him. That breath was exhaled in a disbelieving whoosh as Ron's fingers surely undid Harry's trousers and fished around in bright yellow briefs for their prize.
"Ron," Harry hissed in a disbelieving tone and Ron took in an intimate mouthful, sucking luxuriously on Harry's rapidly hardening prick and thoroughly enjoying the taste. Harry had gotten a bit sweaty during this morning's activities and the taste added a spice to the skin that Ron was swallowing and releasing in urgent hypnotic rhythm. Harry's fingers found their way into his hair, massaging the scalp tenderly, speaking love and lust as Harry's hips moved hesitantly in Ron's rhythm, his panting breaths exploding from him.
Ron encouraged the movement with one hand, and sent the other searching for Harry's hole, intending to finish his partner off quickly. His own cock was very interested in the proceedings, but it was trapped in his trousers and the denied relief was exquisite. Harry was moving more surely now, muffling his cries of pleasure behind one hand. Ron felt the flesh he was sucking on swell and swallowed it down greedily, humming in approval as Harry gifted him with his release.
He released the softening flesh reluctantly, letting Harry slide down to kneel in front of him, spent and gasping, sweat standing proud on his brow. Ron leaned in to kiss the gasping mouth; freeing himself with an eager whimper and fisting his prick urgently as Harry's tongue licked his mouth clean from the tonsils on out. He moaned his release into that wicked mouth and shifted so they were leaning together, gasping and trembling.
"Bugger me," Harry's voice was awed and immensely satisfied. Any trace of brooding or worry was gone from the green eyes that Ron could just see in the dim cupboard. He smiled in satisfaction and nuzzled his partner before pulling back reluctantly and getting his wand out for the cleanup.
"Tonight," Ron promised, eliciting a laugh and a kiss from his spouse.
0oo0oo0
How Harry concentrated through the rest of the afternoon lessons was beyond him. He felt like he had a sign above his head that screamed 'I had sex!' to anyone who looked. They'd nipped down to the kitchen for sandwiches rather than appear in the Great Hall after their cupboard escapades, and Dobby had been ecstatic to see them, providing enough sandwiches for four of them.
Tea was spent eating quickly and listening to the gossip circulating the Great Hall about the practice sessions that their guest teams were scheduled for, and how many people were planning to go and watch them. The first Cup match was scheduled for the following weekend, and Harry hoped that he and Ron would have time to see a practice from each team. The match would be held at Hogwarts and was between Fiji and Ireland. There would be no mascots at the match - that would be saved for the final game - and the whole school had been given permission to attend.
The Headmaster was not at the staff table, and that was also a source of gossip. It was rare for Dumbledore to miss the evening meal - he liked to cast an eye over the students and make his presence known. Beth looked a little worried about it until Harry leaned over and whispered that the Headmaster had a meeting. She took the statement at face value, probably because she felt that he knew about it because he was 'almost a teacher'.
He and Ron lingered in the Hall over their desert, determined to outwait the majority of students. Malfoy - who hadn't been able to sit with them because Ron had evidently put the word out and surrounded them with a group of first and second years, peppering them with questions about Quidditch and the teams that had arrived at dinner - came to sit with them, asking some seemingly not so innocent questions of his own that had Ron bristling silently and telling Harry's thigh exactly what he thought of the blonde Prefect. Malfoy seemed to think that something significant had occurred over Christmas to a few members of the staff and wanted to find out what. Harry answered with steady variations of 'we don't know, we weren't here', wondering all the while if Malfoy had gotten wind of his and Ron's wedding from somewhere. Flitwick, McGonagall, Dumbledore and Sprout had all been invited, and Hagrid and Remus came as a matter of course.
They managed to get rid of him when Snape called Malfoy away in a lucky bit of timing, allowing them to slip out into the foyer and collect their winter cloaks from a beaming Dobby. Harry did up the fastenings as they hastened towards Hagrid's hut, spotting the slender form of the Headmaster straight away. Frost and snow crunched underfoot as they moved to meet their Defence tutor, shivering in the crisp, bright air.
"Good evening, boys," Dumbledore's hat was woollen, multicoloured and very bright. Harry smiled at the sight of it and Ron returned the greeting for them both. Hagrid joined them with his crossbow, and Fang slouched around the half-giant to say hello to them both.
"Are we going into the forest?" Harry was surprised, and knew that his tone was less than respectful, but after the centaurs had effectively forbidden the Wizards and Witches around them from entering the forest, he and Ron had both noticed that Hagrid's excursions into the forest had almost stopped altogether. If Hagrid was limiting his visits to the forest, then the rest of them needed to take especial care.
"We are," Dumbledore nodded, "I have managed to negotiate a truce with the centaurs, though they will not tolerate casual excursions into the forest. Hagrid's care of the injured magical creatures in the forest continues, and we have set aside a small clearing for the training of your defensive skills."
Harry nodded, and didn't ask why Hagrid was coming along. The grounds keeper would doubtless reveal his role in their training at some point. Hagrid was not known for his ability to keep a secret from Harry when the Gryffindor boy really wanted to know what was going on. Once shielded from the school by the trees he and Ron openly linked their hands together, exchanging ideas and speculation as they walked. The clearing that the Headmaster had chosen was of medium size and surrounded by tall trees.
"Now," Dumbledore lit the torches around the edge of the clearing, and Hagrid paced through it to disappear into the gloom, "This evening we are going to work on your ability to deflect harmful spells. Your shielding spells are very powerful, but every impact drains your resources. It would be better to deflect the attacks before they strike your shield."
Harry understood immediately why they were out here. Inside the castle there was always the risk that they would deflect the spell too hard and damage the structure around them. Not to mention the fact that this would likely be a very noisy endeavour. The forest offered them space and privacy. Hagrid would watch their backs while they trained, and Dumbledore would be able to concentrate on instructing them in the best use of their bond.
"Ready when you are, sir," Ron spoke up, and Harry smiled at his spouse, nodding to their Headmaster in agreement.
0oo0oo0
"So, who will you take to the Valentines Ball this year?" Lavender Brown sidled up to Ron. The Ball wasn't until next month, but evidently the girls in Gryffindor were already eyeing off the potential dates. Ron knew for a fact that Lavender had been dating Justin Finch-Fletchley since the beginning of their seventh year, and wondered why she was so interested in who he was planning to take.
"Susan Bones," he didn't bother looking up from his book, turning a page and scratching a few lines on his parchment. The library was full of whispering groups of students, and Madam Pince was floating around re-shelving books, so Ron wasn't too worried that Lavender was going to create a big scene.
"I think Harry is taking Hannah Abbott," he added, closing the book and pulling a new one over. Snape's potions homework was a killer at the moment - a five-foot long essay on the use of living components in potions was not Ron's idea of a good time. Harry had been and gone from the library already, his prep time cut short by a summons to conference with Roger Whitfield's parents, along with Sprout, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Dumbledore. Ron was hoping desperately that his spouse wouldn't be too upset when the meeting was over.
"You took them last time, didn't you?" Lavender asked slyly, and Ron sighed, looking up at her with irritation. Surely she hadn't finished the homework from Snape already? He saw Hermione approaching and made their signal for 'help!' with his quill. She altered her course from the shelves to his table and Ron breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"Yes," he knew his answer was this side of being rude, but couldn't contain his irritation for much longer. He hated that even though he and Harry were married, they were still targets of speculation and unwelcome offers of companionship. Surely after two years of steadily turning down every girl who wanted to date them, the female population of Hogwarts had figured out that they were gay?
"Have you started the potions essay, Ron?" Hermione took a seat opposite and got out her books. Ron nodded and shoved some of his books over at her, letting her get a look at the titles that he'd pulled off the shelves to save her searching for other copies.
"It's not easy," he grumbled. Lavender looked from one to the other for a moment and then frowned. She crossed her arms and glared at Hermione.
"Who are you going to the Valentines Ball with, Hermione?" she asked sweetly, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Unlike Ron, Hermione wasn't constrained by the rules of polite treatment to women. He noticed Lavender bristling even before Hermione opened her mouth to reply, and braced himself for the coming fallout.
"None of your business," Hermione replied, "Shouldn't you be concentrating on your homework?"
Ron put his head down and pretended to be engrossed in the uses of leaping toadstools in sleeping draughts. Lavender and Hermione exchanged a few heated comments and then Lavender stomped off in a huff. He looked up at his friend and she sniffed at him in disdain.
"Coward," she told him with a little smile playing around her lips. Ron grinned and nodded vigorously, getting a reluctant laugh from her.
"Absolutely. She terrifies me. If you hadn't turned up I'd have faked a fainting fit or something," Ron told her, a hand over his heart dramatically. This earned a second, more genuine laugh and Hermione opened the first book.
Harry joined them an hour later, sliding into the seat beside Ron and pulling his own work out with a slight sigh. To Ron's anxious eyes he was a little slumped and pale, but he wasn't shaking or anything, and his movements were assured and purposeful.
"Was it bad?" Hermione asked tentatively. Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. He glanced around and leaned over the table to whisper in her ear, before settling back beside Ron and reaching a hand into Ron's lap.
/They were pretty reasonable/ his fingers told Ron's thigh /I'm still teaching/
"Good," Ron nodded, "Do you want to see what we've done so far?"
"Sure," Harry nodded, pulling Ron's essay over for a look. Hermione hit Ron with a speculative look and winked when she was sure that Harry couldn't see. Ron's heart lightened. It was a double blessing that Hermione already knew about their relationship and the last two years effect on Harry. She had joined her efforts to his wholeheartedly to cheer Harry up at every opportunity.
"We'd have done more, but I had to rescue Ron from Lavender Brown," she sniped and Ron rolled his eyes theatrically. Harry raised an eyebrow in inquiry and Ron sighed, feigning more irritation than he really felt. Lavender wasn't a bad person. She just couldn't take a hint.
"She wants to know who we're taking to the Valentine Ball," he warned Harry, "I told her you were taking Hannah."
"Great Scott, is she going on about that already?" Harry rolled his eyes, "Well, at least Hermione was here to save you."
Ron elbowed him, getting a sly grin and a little wink in reply. Harry's face regained some colour and Ron let the subject drop. They'd cheered his spouse up and that was good enough for now.
0oo0oo0
Harry pulled his cloak shut against the cold and huddled into Hermione's side. Ron was pressed into her other side, and Hermione cradled the small portable fire that was her speciality on her lap. The partners had provided her with a small pad that would allow her to cradle the fire without burning herself. The cold wind and the slight rain did not make for the best of spectating conditions. The match between Fiji and Ireland would be starting in about twenty minutes. The whole school was already in their allotted seats, ushered there by the teachers in order to ensure that they wouldn't get caught up in the swirling mass of public that was even now streaming into the newly enlarged stadium. The school seats were along the bottom row in the middle of the pitch. They'd have to crane their necks to see the action, but at least they were allowed to watch. Ron and Harry both had their Omnioculars in order to follow the action more closely.
"Well! What would Susan and Hannah think?" Lavender's voice drifted down towards them and Harry sighed. The girl still hadn't got over their rejection of her and her friends as dates again. He debated responding, but was saved the trouble when Hannah herself responded.
"We'd think they look warm and cuddle up too," she sidled past him to settle beside Ron, and Susan came to cuddle up with Harry. He made room for her and slid an arm around her waist so she could snuggle in comfortably. The fact that they were snuggling up to the wrong person - Hannah was supposedly going to the Ball with Harry - had Lavender muttering indignantly in the background.
"And the best part of this is I get the most benefits," Hermione gloated, and Harry snickered while Susan leant around him to swat at Hermione in a friendly manner. The crowd in the stands opposite ebbed and flowed as they found their own seats, and Harry glanced around, noting the presence of the Aurors and the boxes that were heated for the people who had paid for the privileged seats.
"Who's going to be commentating?" Susan shivered and Harry pulled her a bit closer, sharing his cloak generously. He shrugged and looked over at Ron, who also shrugged.
"Probably Bagman," she sighed, "Despite the fact that he didn't manage to get this organised he'll be up the front taking the credit."
"He's the luckiest, slackest, most idiotic person I've ever heard of," Ron shook his head, rubbing Hannah's arm briskly to warm her up too.
"Yeah when I grow up I want to be just like him," Hannah agreed, and they all laughed at her, the humour warming them as much as the shared body heat. The crowd got a bit quieter when the enhanced voice of the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports welcomed them all to Hogwarts and started introducing the two teams. Hogwarts was supporting the team that they were hosting in order to make them feel welcome, although Seamus had been heard imploring people not to let the Irish supporters see him.
"This is going to be wicked!" Hannah cheered as Fiji came soaring out onto the pitch in their black and white robes. Harry laughed, his spirit soaring with them, cheering as they completed a lap of the pitch and faced off against Ireland.
From then on the action was fast and furious. The Irish Seeker treated them to some brilliant displays of flying, dodging between the Chasers as they disputed the possession of the quaffle. The Fiji Seeker played the game a bit more sedately, going in only to give an advantage to his own team, choosing a vantage point and looking for the snitch from there.
"Fiji plays the way you do Harry!" Susan said in his ear and Harry blushed, shaking his head. He was a good player, but he had no delusions that the game he played was at a level much lower than that of International standards. The school played a good game, but it was still school level Quidditch.
0oo0oo0
"That was wicked!" Seamus pranced around the common room, still cheering the Irish victory. Fiji had led in the scoring, with a hundred and forty goals to nil, until the Irish Seeker had caught the snitch, ending the game and winning the match for his team by ten points. Ron watched his spouse laugh at the Irishman, a book resting open in his lap. The whole House was still excited by the match, and Ron just knew that he and Hermione were going to have a hard time getting them all to head off to bed.
"Did you see that Sloth Grip Roll?" Neville piped up, "The Keeper did it perfectly!"
Ron mused that things were at a fever pitch if even the normally placid Neville was spouting off at the top of his lungs. Harry grinned over at him and went back to his book. He was reading one of his many books on defence against the Dark Arts - this particular one a volume leant to him by the Headmaster. Ron watched as Dean plopped onto the chair next to Harry, leaned over to get a look at the book, and then frowned. Ron's trouble radar went off, and he shifted uneasily in his seat.
"Hey, Harry?" Dean tapped the corner of the book, "Are you taking remedial Defence Against the Dark Arts this term?"
"Um," Harry looked up in astonishment and then sighed. Ron could actually see his green eyed partner swallow his pride and prepare to tell a lie. The problem was that Harry was a rotten liar and Ron could see that Dean had already spotted his intention too.
"Yeah, I am," he didn't meet Dean's eyes, and therefore didn't see the anger cross their former dorm mates face. Dean slapped the book aside, getting in Harry's face.
"Bollocks," Dean snapped, "I can tell you're lying, Harry. What's really going on? You and Ron have been taking extra lessons for the past four terms, and I know that you're not failing Defence Against the Dark Arts. You might have fooled Malfoy into thinking you were both failing school, but you should at least…"
"That's enough," Ron moved over to back his friend up, glaring at Dean in the suddenly quiet common room. They never had any luck, Dean's little outburst had come during a lull in festivities, and quite a few of their Housemates were openly staring in curiosity.
"Dumbledore is giving us extra lessons in Defence," Ron continued, "We're not lying about that."
He left unsaid the rest of the story, and saw Dean's eyes light up in understanding. Hermione had not been able to get permission to join them for this last term of extra instruction, much to all their disappointment, and Ron guessed that her sudden exclusion from the extra lessons had got Dean's imagination fired up.
"Sorry, Dean," Harry said softly, "We can't tell you more."
Dean nodded and took a deep breath. He let Harry see his regret for his impulsive actions and got up.
"Yeah, me too," he said awkwardly and headed for his dorm room. Conversation started up again softly, and Harry met Ron's eyes in apology. Ron shrugged and settled back into his chair. Beth came to sit with him, asking questions about the unusual grip the Fiji Keeper used on her broom and Ron let himself be diverted. They had been lucky that no one had called them on the extra lessons before, and doubly lucky that the questions had come from in-house. He noticed Hermione slipping into Harry's chair with his partner and tugging the book over so she could read it as well, acting as if nothing had happened. Ron let her comfort Harry for now, knowing that he could complete the task tonight when they were alone together.
0oo0oo0
The Valentines Ball came up quickly after that. Harry woke on the fourteenth and rolled out of Ron's grip to go look for Hedwig. He felt a little sick this morning, and the thought of breakfast was not very appealing. Unfortunately, his Ron was a bit of a martinet about his eating habits, still trying to get him to put a bit of weight on. Harry had always been thin; it was a fact and didn't bother him.
Hedwig was waiting in the owlry with her package. Harry fed her the treats he'd tucked into his dressing gown and hurried back to the common room, relieved to find it still empty, but not too surprised. Dawn was still staining the sky, and his Housemates were not known for their early rising habits - something that he and Ron had taken advantage of more than once, sneaking into the boys' bathroom for a quick morning treat involving hot water and slippery skins.
Ron was restless in their bed as Harry sealed the door, his arm sweeping over the spot where Harry had been lying. He paused for a moment to admire his partner, before pulling the flat package out from his dressing gown and sliding back into the warm nest of blankets. He put his cold feet firmly on Ron's to wake him up and snickered at the resulting protest and mumbling.
"Sod," Ron heaved himself up and onto Harry, lying on him fully. Harry's stomach protested for a second before settling, and he was glad that Ron wasn't awake enough to have noticed the twinge of discomfort, "How did your feet get so bloody cold? They're like blocks of ice!"
"Went for a walk," Harry replied succinctly, "Got you a present."
"Sneaky bugger," Ron's eyes lit up. Harry loved that his partner was still so childlike in his appreciation of gifts. Harry loved giving presents to Ron, and not just because he had a generous nature. Ron chose to express his gratitude in pleasurable and creative ways. Harry was recalled to the moment by Ron's tongue, which went delving in his ear rather wetly.
"Yuck, I had a bath last night," Harry protested, and Ron snickered at him, wriggling around until he was comfortable and propping his head in his hands. Harry wheezed and complained quietly under his partner's antics, grinning when Ron stilled. He pulled the package out from under his pillow and handed it to Ron. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and string, and Ron pretended to swoon over it.
"Such romantic wrapping," he teased, and slid off Harry to sit up. Harry followed him, snuggling back in to the warm body, softly protesting the loss of contact.
"Hey, I can hug you any time," Ron replied cheekily and ripped the paper off, his hands rubbing curiously over the blue dyed leather book inside, "What's this then?"
"Do you need my glasses?" Harry teased, "What does it look like?"
Ron nudged him and opened the book, his breath catching at the house sigils affixed to the front page with their names written in their new familial script beneath it. The date of their wedding and the celebrants name was also in the book, with spaces below for them to add the names of any children, and their godparents. Harry shifted closer, a little nervous now that Ron would think this was a stupid idea.
"Muggles have a family book - actually it's usually a Bible, a copy of their religious text - and I thought that we should start our own. I talked to Charlie about it and he brought his camera along to the wedding, and I got some pictures from Colin as well," Harry explained. Ron leaned over and kissed him in reply, the wordless gesture reassuring Harry that he hadn't done anything stupid.
The first pages had pictures of them, standing by themselves. Ron was in the kitchen of the Burrow, drying a plate, and Harry was in the garden under the tree they'd been married beneath, snow falling lightly on his hair and shoulders. They wore everyday clothes. Then came the shots of them at school, with friends and together, or by themselves, candid shots where they didn't know the camera was pointing at them. There was a picture of each in their Quidditch robes, with Ron saving a goal, and Harry catching the snitch. The next page showed them with their wrists bound together in their wedding robes, the box with their rings floating above the tied hands. There were pictures of them at their wedding reception with family members and friends, smiling and happy. The pages after that were blank.
"Remind me to thank Charlie and Colin," Ron put the book very carefully aside, and then took Harry's glasses off too. This was becoming a familiar gesture between them, a small intimacy that Harry cherished.
"But first I think I'd better thank you," Ron continued and Harry leaned into the kiss that was being offered, letting his fingers talk to Ron's skin when his mouth was silenced.
0oo0oo0
Still brooding over Lavender Brown's smug remarks about being stood up, Ron missed the arrival of his partner. Harry had been delayed from coming down when Beth had asked for help with her homework. Ron didn't begrudge the girl Harry's time; he knew how good it felt to have Harry's attention focussed on you and your problems. Then there was the way he focussed on his lover, though Ron was the only person that knew how that felt.
"You awake there?" Harry's voice drew him out of his thoughts and Ron grinned, shrugging. Harry settled in to lean on the wall beside him, looking up the stairs for their dates. Ron went back to his thoughts, and missed Harry's move away to meet Hannah. Susan cleared her throat in a bid for his attention and he jumped, flushing a little and looking up at her.
"Happy Valentines, Ron," Susan snickered and presented him with a rose. She was looking stunning in her new dress robes and Ron laughed, kissing her cheek and pinning the rose to his own robes. Hannah and Harry were engaged in a similar ritual and Ron shook his head at his 'date'.
"How very gallant of you both," Harry was telling Hannah, who dropped a curtsey in reply. Ron offered Susan his arm and led her off towards the school doors, Harry and Hannah a step behind. It felt comfortable to walk with another couple. The expectation of romantic chatter and attention was lifted and no one had to worry about hurting someone else's feelings in the long run. He tuned back in to the conversation around him, making an effort to clear out the wandering thoughts.
"Now promise me that this dance will be different," Susan was saying lightly. Ron glanced back over his shoulder with a grin. Harry was smiling at him conspiratorially. They had anticipated this topic would come up and agreed on a response together. Ron tipped him a wink and turned back to Susan.
"You did bring your wand, didn't you?" he asked, "Because we thought that you two could defend us this time!"
"Oi!" Hannah slapped at his shoulder from behind, not really upset, but playing along anyway, "That's not very gentlemanly of you!"
"He's not very gentlemanly at the best of times," Harry spoke up in a tone of long suffering experience and the girls jeered at Ron while they cooed over 'poor Harry'. He bore it cheerfully; Harry didn't tease him often and wouldn't let things get out of hand.
Susan shivered as the cold air stirred around them and Ron drew her closer. They were not the first couples on the path by any means - the girls had kept them waiting this time, so there were at least ten people ahead of them. Ron felt the tingle that signified the end of Hogwarts protective wards, and rubbed his thumb on Susan's wrist before realising she wouldn't be able to read the gesture the way Harry would. There was something not quite right, despite the cheerful noise of his fellow students breaking the still night air.
"Ron," Harry's voice was a little tense, and Ron turned his head to look back at his partner. Harry evidently felt the same way - something was not right here. Their dates exchanged looks; apparently thinking this was another joke.
"Are you two doing this on purpose?" Hannah asked with asperity. They didn't have the chance to answer her at all, as stunning spells came whizzing out of the trees, striking up and down the line of students. Harry went down soundlessly, Hannah grabbing for him and her wand at the same time. Ron shouted wordlessly, lunging for his partner and not feeling the spell that hit him, knocking him out as well.
0oo0oo0
Harry woke to pain. His scar was splitting his head open - he half expected to feel the slippery heat of blood on his face when he raised a trembling hand to touch it. The scar was hot and throbbing, the light touch of his shaking fingers was almost unbearable. Dropping his hand, Harry squinted around, trying to remember what had happened. Wherever he was it was cold and dark. There was no glimmer of light anywhere, and cautious, painful movement showed Harry he was lying in a very small space indeed, barely large enough for him to curl into a ball in an attempt to warm up a little. The rose on his lapel was almost overpowering in the small space and he managed to pluck it off with numb fingers.
The action triggered his memory, Beth's homework, Ron's distraction and the girls joking gifts to them. The light teasing of his partner as they walked down the path to Hogsmeade and the tingle of the wards leaving their skin. He thought he'd heard a stunning spell, which meant they'd been under attack, but he couldn't remember fighting back.
"Ron?" the whisper was met with silence. When he lay perfectly still and held his breath there was no other sound that indicated a second presence. His partner was not with him, and Harry could only hope that wherever Ron was he was safe. If Harry were the only one taken then they'd be able to trace the Death Eaters through the ring that nestled warmly around his finger - the only warmth in his prison. The ring was all that kept Harry from battering on the walls of his prison in desperation. As long as the ring was warm Ron was alive.
He was unable to stifle a moan as his scar sent a bolt of agony through his already aching head and his stomach roiled unpleasantly. Wherever Voldemort was he was furious with someone. Harry stuffed a fist into his mouth, determined not to give his captors the pleasure of hearing his pain. He failed as the pain reached a crescendo unlike anything he had ever felt before, and Harry screamed into the freezing, suffocating dark, tasting blood as it pooled at the back of his throat.
0oo0oo0
Ron glared at Lucius Malfoy. He was chained to a wall, his arms and head aching. The room was well lit, the smoke of the torches drifting up to a high ceiling. The circular room was dominated by a two tiered dais in the middle of the room, upon which rested a large stone chair on the top level, and a stone sarcophagus on the one below it.
He had awakened surrounded by jeering Death Eaters, all pointing their wands at him. The white masks were creepy, but he was able to discern a few identities despite the so-called disguises. Snape was here, standing against the wall next to Crabbe and Goyle's fathers. Ron had thought that he'd even seen Kreacher around here somewhere, and made a mental note to tell the Headmaster that they had definitely been betrayed by the elf.
Voldemort appeared in front of the chair, and the Death Eaters jerked away from Ron immediately, cringing and bowing to the foul creature on the stone throne. Voldemort's red eyes glared down at him, and Ron felt that there was something very snakelike about the most hated Wizard and self styled Dark Lord.
"McNab! Explain this!" Voldemort shrieked and sent the Cruciatus spell at the nearest body. It shrieked and trembled, falling to the floor and thrashing about. Ron felt like he was going to be sick, and bit his lips, the blood draining from his face as Voldemort tortured the Wizard on the floor. The screams echoed oddly in the round chamber, rolling on and on as the torture continued without pause or mercy.
"My Lord! My Lord! You sent us to capture Potter!" Malfoy's voice was thin and scared, and ordinarily Ron would have been very pleased to hear the fear in the senior Malfoy's voice. Now it just frightened him more. If the Death Eaters were that afraid of the man they served, then Ron would have no chance against the Dark Wizard. How had Harry managed to face off against this evil being time and again and not gone mad with fear? His lovers' nightmares were starting to make more sense, and Ron was wishing that they didn't.
The ring around his finger, unnoticed so far by his captors, was the sole point of comfort in this nightmare. Harry was alive, as evinced by the warm weight of the metal against his cold skin. Maybe the Death Eaters had brought Ron to Voldemort because they'd failed to catch Harry. He was bait for his spouse. In their haste to appease their 'master' the Death Eaters had inadvertently picked the one hostage that Harry would rush headlong to protect.
"That is not Potter!" Voldemort's accusation was accompanied by a fresh wave of torture, this time directed at Malfoy. Malfoy's scream was high and thin, and seemed to please his master, because the blonde man wasn't tortured for nearly as long as the unfortunate McNab, who had yet to move from where he had fallen. Again the sound echoed oddly, as if the stones themselves were reacting to the torture.
"My Lord, my son has told us that Potter would do anything for that boy! We thought it best to give you the means to control Potter!" a plump woman spoke up from her place along the wall. She screamed and went down in a painful heap when the Dark Lord turned the Cruciatus curse on her for a moment. Ron wondered who her son was, and why Malfoy hadn't said that about dear old Draco.
"You think that I am unable to control the whelp?" the hissing voice sent tendrils of fear wrapping themselves around Ron's heart. He had always said that Voldemort was insane, but to be confronted with definite proof of the Dark Lord's insanity was almost more than he could bear.
"No my Lord," Malfoy panted, pulling himself up onto his knees, "He is there before you, to do with as you please."
Malfoy had evidently given up on the whole 'give Voldemort the means to torture Potter by torturing someone else' plan, but that didn't make Ron feel any better, because in the first place the only reason for them to keep him alive was to curb Harry's ability to fight, and in the second place, his hope that Harry had somehow gotten away, or been left behind was dashed as Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward and pulled the lid off the stone sarcophagus, reaching in and dragging Harry out.
0oo0oo0
The sudden incursion of light was more painful than Harry had ever expected, and it stunned him long enough for hard hands to grab him and drag him out. Harry fell to his knees, containing his cries of pain by the slightest margin. He heard a high-pitched laugh and shuddered as his scar throbbed in sympathy. He knew that sound - it had haunted his dreams for years.
"Potter," Voldemort's voice had his skin crawling in revulsion, "We meet once more."
The way Harry saw it he had two choices. He could go out, snivelling on his knees and cowering before the worlds most evil Wizard, or he could stand on his own two feet with dignity. Harry took as deep a breath as he could and made his choice, dragging himself slowly, painfully upright. He had no delusions that there would be a death here today, and it would probably be his. Sympathetic Magic or not, he was in no condition to reach for his bond. The pain was all consuming, as Voldemort probably intended it to be.
The Dark Lord was sitting on a stone throne at the top of a dais, his red eyes glaring down at Harry. The two men who had pulled him out of his prison had let go and moved away quickly, as if afraid of being caught in the crossfire. They were in a round chamber, and the walls were lined with Death Eaters. Voldemort evidently wanted an audience when he killed Harry, and the young man did his best to straighten up proudly.
"So defiant," Voldemort sneered, "Would you beg for your life?"
"Never," the whisper was thin and filled with the pain from his scar, but it was the best Harry could do at short notice. Voldemort cackled, the sound raising the hairs on the back of Harry's neck.
"Would you beg for your companion?" the Cruciatus spell went past Harry, striking someone behind him. Ron's voice shouted in pain and outrage and Harry's legs crumpled, failing to support him as he felt Ron's pain and his own as Voldemort lashed at him through the connection they shared in Harry's scar. Darkness edged Harry's vision and he sobbed for breath, fighting it back, beating back the despair he felt. His partner's torture was almost more than he could bear and Harry fought to think, to come up with some plan to save Ron. He'd give his own life in a heartbeat if it would ensure Ron's safety. He knew better than that though. A familiar pair of shoes caught his eye, and Harry bit his lip until it bled, wondering if Snape would tell Dumbledore how poorly the partnership they had trained these last four terms had fared in their final battle.
Snape's shoes reminded Harry of something else though, and he welcomed the darkness briefly, letting it take him away from the pain for a few brief seconds, just long enough for him to pull the Occlumency in place, drawing it around his battered nerves like an old, worn familiar cloak. He woke when Malfoy and the bitch Bellatrix hauled him back to his feet, and locked his knees. The calm of the Occlumency was a welcome oasis, and Ron's pained cries had stopped. The ring was warm, and Harry took heart in that. As long as they were alive there was a chance.
"Avery," Voldemort hissed, "I want you to torture that thing you've chained to my wall until Potter is begging me to kill it."
Harry took a deep breath and reached deep inside for their bond. He placed a shield around Ron, wishing that they could touch, but not needing it or his wand to protect them both, grateful beyond words that Flitwick had insisted that they learn to protect themselves this way. The shield reflected the spell back at Avery as Dumbledore had taught them, who squealed in pain and fell to the floor. Malfoy and Bellatrix dropped his arms as if he was suddenly burning hot and backed away; feeling the power that suddenly flowed through the 'helpless' teen.
"What is this?" Voldemort roared and sent the Cruciatus curse at Harry.
His hands came up, palm out, instinct guiding him as he caught the spell in his hands, containing the raw energy of the spell, forming it into a ball between his hands. When Dumbledore had tried to teach them to deflect the spells with their bond, they had managed to master the skill. However, it had felt horribly strange to Harry, worse than trying to learn to control their magic without touching each other. This act of catching and containing the spell felt right, and Ron's silent support flooded through him as his partner recovered from the agony of the Cruciatus curse.
"What magic is this?" Bellatrix cried and stumbled to the floor as Harry threw the curse he'd caught at her, taking no pleasure in her pain, merely getting rid of the energy before it tried to overcome him. Malfoy and McNab drew their wands and threw their own curses at Harry. He caught them again, feeling somehow distanced from the action, balling the two different curses up together, and combining them before throwing them away once more. This time he threw the energy at Voldemort, hitting his target dead centre, watching dispassionately as the most evil Wizard in the world hastily ducked behind a shield of his own.
The Magic in Harry swelled and grew, flooding through Harry as the Killing Curse was cast at him from all sides, the Death Eaters rushing to the defence of their cruel master. He caught the evil green light, the power crackling up his arms to his elbows, his hair standing on end in reaction, his torn and filthy dress robes snapping and crackling in a breeze that didn't exist. More and more curses came arrowing through the air at him and he caught them all, gathering their energy, as instinct demanded he do, as Ron's support told him to, while his memory stirred and whispered what he must do next.
In his first year of Hogwarts, Harry had tried to find out what had happened to his parents upon the discovery of their bodies. His Aunt and Uncle had never taken him to see their graves, and Harry had always wondered where his parents' final resting place was. He had discovered that the Wizarding world didn't bury their dead. They used the last vestiges of magic in the body of the deceased to dissolve the body and cast it to the Four Corners of the world, preventing anyone from practicing the Dark Art of Necromancy on the mortal remains.
Harry had memorised the ceremony, whispering the words to himself in a dark corner of the school library, trying to gain some comfort from knowing that wherever his parents were they were together, resting in peace.
That memory stirred to life now and with Ron's silent acquiescence he cast the energy that the Death Eaters were feeding him inadvertently at Voldemort, reciting aloud the beginning of the funeral rites. He watched dispassionately as Voldemort's body shrivelled and died under the onslaught of Harry's combined power, as the body levitated obediently, the arms and legs spread-eagled in a grotesque sprawl.
He watched the red eyes lose the last spark of life and couldn't rejoice that he had finally avenged the deaths of so many innocents, his parents included. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he forced his throat, lacerated by his previous screams, to project the words of the funeral rite into the chamber. Voldemort's body became transparent, despite all the Dark Rites he had forced himself to endure in an effort to prevent this very thing from ever happening.
The Death Eaters ran, their terror fouling the air of the chamber. Ron's serene presence in the bond didn't even falter for a moment as the partners were forced to expend more of their own energies to see Voldemort to his final and permanent resting place. The chamber shook and the walls cracked from the pure potency of their Magic, but Harry was steadfast in his actions, his voice growing smaller and smaller as his abused throat gave out under the strain. The final words were almost soundless, the pain in his body all-consuming as Voldemort's husk was blasted apart and scattered to the Four Corners of the World.
The power receded, draining away in a rush and Harry fell to his knees, black spots taking over his vision, panting harshly for air. He tried to muster the strength to free Ron, but the first attempt at raising his head was too much for his already overtaxed strength and he slumped to the cold stone floor, unconscious.
0oo0oo0