Chapter 3: Betwixt and Between

It is slow going at first, learning how to be alone again. But like breathing or drinking black coffee, Brogan figured it was his natural state of being, and he soon found himself used to it. Well, as used to it as he can be to keep himself sane. He talks to Harry and Ginny sometimes – uses his wand to "record" his conversations like a memory saved for a Pensieve. He has no idea how he will ever get the messages to the couple or what he will do with them if he leaves the Well, but they make him feel less alone and closer to them. And that is all that matters.

He no longer had any sense of time passing. At first, Brogan tried to count off the days with a tally on the cave wall. He'd soon discovered it was too much like being a prisoner marking off the days until release (or execution, in his more dire moments), and so he stopped bothering. He thought it had been a few months, at least. But he had no way of knowing what that meant for outside time. Had it been a day? A week? Aine had said it would pass slowly for him, and he took her at his word.

So, Brogan renews a love for an old hobby and reads a lot. The great thing about Aine's Well is that her bookshelf can produce any book he wants. He just has to think of a book, and it appears. It's quite handy, really. He learns to meditate, and finally reads Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and tries to pick up gardening tips from various Herbology texts so he doesn't starve to death. The small bunch of vegetable and fruit-bearing plants Aine has left him require minimal care, thank Merlin, as he has never had a green thumb. Brogan has even transformed a random dish into a working coffee press. His first crop of beans will be ready for harvesting soon. He can't wait to be at least 70% coffee once more.

He also dedicates a certain amount of time each day to using his bracelet tattoo for more complex spells, and when he uses it, he feels closer to Harry for some reason, as though he were sensing him from a great distance.

He has not been able to determine why his bracelet has become a part of him, but Brogan thinks it has something to do with the fact that the three of them are still joined, somehow. He wishes he could read more about their use, but this is the one area where the bookshelf has almost failed him, not offering much information.

Even though there are different dimensions and time and space separating them, he occasionally gets a flicker of emotion from Ginny with his Empath abilities. It is a small sense, but Brogan clings to it. It helps ease the loneliness, especially when he lays down to sleep. There is no day or night in the cave, but he has learned how to charm it into darkening after a certain amount of time has passed so that he can keep to some type of sleep schedule.

Unfortunately, Brogan has the time to also do a lot of thinking. And this is where he feels he will eventually go insane in the long run. But he thinks of his mother and his father – and he wishes (more than he ever would have previously thought) that he had made more of an effort to know Solace. He can see now that it was not all the old man's fault.

His mother was very set in her ways, and when Adaria Caley wanted something, she usually got it, everyone else be damned. Exceedingly headstrong and fierce before her illness slowed her down (much like Ginny could be, he thought amusedly), his mother had wanted Brogan to be with her for whatever reason, and so that is what happened. He knew his mother had also been extremely stubborn to the point of blindness (unlike Ginny, who eventually saw reason, or at least understood the concept of compromise). No power on earth could have changed his mother's mind once it was made up, let alone his father's meager attempts. It was funny how he'd forgotten that through the years.

Brogan promises himself that should he ever be allowed to see his father again, he will swallow his pride and make their relationship work. For whatever his failings, Solace is a part of Brogan and Brogan is a part of him. They have a shared history as father and son and a shared bloodline. Since Brogan knows he is to be the last of that line, he reckons it should be honored while it still can be.

Sexually speaking, he is, of course, no stranger to going for long periods of not having any. Except Brogan has found that that is the one part of his life that refuses to change back. He cannot stop where his thoughts go when he closes his eyes – he cannot stop the onslaught of vivid memories and the emotions and situations he has experienced. He tried to abstain at first, and it was easier then – he was still dealing with being stuck in the Well. But then Harry and Ginny started invading his dreams in the most delightful ways possible, and he'd wake up in the worst sort of state. It was almost worse than before when he'd first accidentally connected the three of them at Hogwarts. He'd experienced shame about sex for the first time since he was a kid and had his first "emission." So now he took care of things, in a myriad of ways, just to have peace of mind. So far, it was working.

But by God, he missed them. He missed them both, in so many ways.

And despite his body's needs to the contrary – Brogan missed them for all the ways that just meant he missed his friends. Ginny's need to pilfer Harry's clothes, especially his socks. Harry's wonderful case of bed hair every single morning and his minor grumbling whenever he needed to shave. Ginny's quick wit and even quicker smile when she was trying to tease you about something. The way she would wrap a huge towel around her head so as not to get her hair wet in the shower or bath. Harry's way he had of giving you his undivided attention the moment you started to talk about something important, his green eyes bright and focused just on you. The way Ginny would touch you if she sensed you were feeling bad or needed a hug. All of the little things that made Brogan love them as people.

Thinking that for now, he needed to stop moping, Brogan approached the bookshelf and tried to keep his mind clear. Sometimes if he went to the shelf not knowing what he wanted, it would generate the most interesting reading material. It was one of the reasons he'd taken up meditating, after all, since on the second day in the cave, it had thrown "Mindfulness for the Modern Wizard" at him. The only trick to it was that he had to keep his mind blank. Not exactly easy at certain times of the day (while being far too easy at others, he was dismayed to find).

A soft shuffling noise echoed through his living quarters, and he looked down to see an ancient-looking purple-covered book on the shelf. Brogan grinned as he read the title – The Ophidian Armilla and the Power of Three.

"Well, played bookshelf, well played," Brogan said as he flipped open the cover and started to read.

o-o-o-o-o

Not only was Mr Cosgrove able to activate the spare floo in their extra room (apparently a special request by the Harry Potter did wonders with the Irish Ministry), but he was able to get it hooked up for limited travel as well. The Abbey didn't allow people to arrive by floo usually (unless they had been Dumbledore), and a person had to get permission each trip. But if she needed to, Hermione could now come for a visit.

Which is precisely what she did the minute she got the approval. Harry had to laugh as his bushy-haired friend first threw herself into his arms and then Ginny's.

"Oh! I've missed you two!" she cried, hugging them both again.

"It's hasn't been that long, Hermione," Harry said, disentangling himself. She merely sniffed at him and put her rucksack down as though it weighed nothing. Harry marveled at it – he could see it was filled to the brim with books. Of course, since this was Hermione, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd placed a few extending charms on it to pack in even more.

"How was the library? Ginny asked, leading their friend into their proper living space. Harry noticed Hermione was looking around at everything with wide eyes.

"I can understand now why you two wanted to stay here again. These rooms are huge! And quite lovely, too, and oh! Do they both have studies? And the wall disappears and reappears when you need it to?"

Harry smirked as Ginny showed the other girl around, starting with the magical wall then heading to the loo to show off their gigantic tub. He picked up Hermione's bag and moved it closer to the sofa, where they also had tea waiting for them. He poured them all a cup and grabbed a piece of Ginny's latest effort of Barmbrack. She was making it pretty tasty, he had to admit. As he took a bite of the bread and then a sip of tea, he couldn't help but think that somewhere out there, Brogan would be very pleased that Harry was eating it the correct way.

"And Ron is trying to get approval to visit too, but, oh, thank you, Harry," Hermione said as he handed her and Ginny their cups.

"Yeah, tell Ron sorry about that," Harry said as the girls sat down. "The Irish Ministry was very helpful but also very strict. Floo activity at the Abbey has always been extremely safeguarded, according to Mr Cosgrove. He said one person was our lot."

"Oh, he's fine with it," Hermione said, waving her hand. "He understands, Harry. And honestly, I think he just wants to come and see this place with his own eyes and then bugger off to that wizarding town you were telling us about and visit that pub. Thanks for that, by the way, Ginny."

Ginny grinned at Harry. "Just doing my part as a little sister to rub it in that I've been in a proper Irish pub before him."

"Quite," Hermione said, pursing her lip and reminding Harry instantly of McGonagall.

"So what changes are you making at Hogwarts this week?" he asked, curious.

Since McGonagall had been getting the school ready to re-open in September, Hermione had been helping her out in different ways. Out of the four of them, she was the only one heading back to finish her N.E.W.T.s (at an accelerated speed, of course). Most likely, Hermione wouldn't stay the whole year, but she had still opted to be Head Girl, sharing the title with a Slytherin, of all people. A girl named Daphne Greengrass, who had apparently been in their year. Although Harry couldn't remember what she even looked like.

"Oh, you know, making things more…inclusive. Less divide and conquer with the House system, and more about making Hogwarts into a real community for the younger children, especially the Muggleborns. I think that's what needs to happen, so we don't have one house hating or ganging up the other, don't you think?"

"How does your co-Head feel about that?" Harry asked, catching Ginny's eye.

"Oh, she's been…well, actually she's quite clever, if a little…well, we had an adjustment period of getting used to each other, at first, of course. But I think after I leave mid-year, she will continue on with the changes and plans I've made-"

As Hermione launched into her ideas about school unity rather than House unity, Harry nodded his head politely. But he kept his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Ginny was doing the same, her brown eyes practically dancing with amusement. To her credit, Hermione cottoned on a lot earlier than usual. She tsked at them as she set her cup down.

"Oh, you two are incorrigible. Yes, yes, you're not interested, I get it. Now, do I get to see the rest of the Abbey after tea or before I leave? I assume you want to spend the bulk of my time here to compare notes and discuss things and see which books I've brought from the library."

"Actually, Ginny wanted you two to do the books first, and I'm going to join the builders working on the Abbey. But come find me when you're ready for the grand tour; I can show you all the improvements I've helped make and even those I've had a small hand in creating."

Hermione blinked owlishly at him. "You're helping them re-build the Abbey?"

"Yeah, I told you about that," Ginny said, pouring another cup of tea for herself. "Remember? I wrote that Harry has been learning how to carve stone and other masonry-type things. He's actually quite good at it, Hermione. Harry, you should show her the plans you've drawn for our house."

Harry felt his skin heat but nodded his head. "If she wants to see them, yeah."

"You're good enough to build your own house already?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry, eyes still wide. He snickered at the sound of disbelief in his friend's voice.

"No. And thanks for the vote of confidence. But one of the builders here gave me some magical drafting parchment, and it really helps you, especially if you don't have any real drawing ability. It keeps things neat and straight for you. And it's just…well, it's just a rudimentary drawing so far…."

"It's brilliant, Harry. Don't sell yourself short," Ginny insisted.

"Well, now I have to see it," Hermione said, looking between them.

"Okay, before you go then." Harry stood up, finishing off another piece of bread and licking his fingers. "This is your best loaf yet, Gin. All right, have fun comparing notes. See you two in an hour or so?"

Both girls nodded, and Harry smirked as Hermione already started talking about the different books she'd brought from the library. Somethings never changed, he was glad to see. It was a particular constant in their lives – the sun rose in the east and set in the west, and Hermione Granger always packed too many books.

o-o-o-o-o

A few days later, Ginny was just finishing up some of her research before breaking for dinner. Harry had asked if they could try eating in Maeve's Hollow again, this time at a proper restaurant and not a pub. She was going to head back to the rooms a bit early to bathe and get ready. She smiled as she thought of going on what Harry was calling a 'real, proper date' and wanted to look nicer than usual for it. They had decided to wear the new dress robes they'd purchased but hadn't worn yet.

"Oh, Ginny," Garrett called to her as she left the library, and she stopped, heading back until they met at the main desk.

"Sean sent that book that you ordered," Garret handed her a slim, parchment-wrapped parcel, and she took it gratefully.

"Oh, thanks, Garrett."

Ginny bit her lip, suddenly unsure of wanting to broach the subject of the unusual shopkeeper of The Broken Quill. But, she decided to just ask and see what she could find out.

"Garret, about Mr O'Brien-"

"Sean," Garrett corrected. "He always says Mr O'Brien was his Da."

Ginny made a face and internally vowed to never call him Sean and plowed ahead. "How well do you know him?"

Garret shrugged. "As long as I've been at the Abbey. Brogan was never fond of him, though, come to think of it. He said he had too many different emotions around him, and being in his presence always gave him a headache." Garret turned and gave her a steady, penetrating gaze. "Did something happen?"

"No, not really," Ginny said, frowning. She shelved the idea that Brogan hadn't like the man either into the back of her mind for something to think about later.

"He just struck me as being odd…I mean, you don't find him unnerving?"

"Reckon I have never considered it, as most people are odd to me," Garrett said. "We don't go to the pub or hang out much, but he's a great book collector and always seems to be able to find what I'm looking for."

Ginny nodded. Perhaps it had just been nothing. She glanced down at the other books that had been delivered and saw something that caught her eye. She reached for it and pulled out a rather ancient-looking book, the cover held together with spellotape. But it was the emblem on the cover that had caught her eye. It was the same symbol she had seen in the book shop – an 8-spoked wheel with a lightning bolt in the middle. There was also a word underneath the logo, Tuireann. Ginny ran her finger over the word and shivered despite the warmth of the day.

"Garrett, can I borrow this one?" she asked, holding it up. The librarian frowned and took it from her.

"I usually like to catalog them first, but…hmm. That's odd."

"What's odd about it?" Ginny asked when Garrett didn't say anything. He was staring off into space, a thoughtful expression on his face. He blinked at her as though just remembering that she was there.

"I didn't order this, so…I reckon you can read it first before I add it to the collection."

"Does he often put books in that you haven't ordered?" Ginny asked, wondering if O'Brien had done it on purpose.

"No, well, sometimes, yes, he does," Garrett said, sounding a bit sheepish. "Go ahead and read it first. I have a feeling he meant for you to have it."

"Do you know what this means?" Ginny asked, pointing at the word on the cover.

"It means to lament, but it is also an old word associated with thunder. Well, as in the God of Thunder," Garrett paused as he looked at the symbol on the book. "That's his symbol, too. The spoked wheel and the lightning bolt, for the God Taranis. He's got a bit of a following around these parts. It's almost cult-like."

Ginny nodded as though she knew what he meant, but in fact, she didn't. But she had a strange sort of feeling in her stomach. How weird was it that this symbol had appeared to her twice now, and she'd begun to have dreams featuring nasty thunderstorms?

o-o-o-o-o

"So this, um, God. Tuireann. Um, are we sure he's a God, God, or is he a god like Aine was a goddess?" Harry asked Ginny as they tucked into their food.

They were at the finest restaurant Maeve's Hollow had, or so it boasted on its advertisements, Madam Isembold's Bistro. He and Ginny were dressed up in their finest dress robes, and even though he thought his was a bit itchy, Ginny looked spectacular in hers. It didn't hurt that sitting across from her meant he got to stare at the best part – the low, plunging neckline and her lovely, lovely cleavage.

Ginny smirked at him as she cut into her steak as though knowing where his mind really was. "I don't know. But I think he might actually be a God, God. As in, a real one."

They had briefly flipped through the book she'd borrowed from Garrett, trying to figure out why Sean O'Brien would want them to have this particular tome. So far, all they knew was that Tuireann's symbol was indeed the 8-spoked wheel (it had to be 8 spokes, no more, no less), and the lightning bolt represented his power. She glanced at Harry's forehead.

"It is rather coincidental that his symbol was the lightning bolt."

Harry chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "I can't claim to have created thunder, though."

Ginny giggled as she took a sip of her wine. "No, that's fair. But that'd be quite the feather to put in your cap. Destroyer of Dark Lords and Creator of Thunder."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, so why do you think this bloke at the bookshop wanted us, er, well, you, to have this book?"

Ginny shrugged. "Honestly, I don't have the foggiest."

Harry watched her push her leftover carrots around on her plate for a moment. She finally looked up at him.

"Do you want to see if his shop is open after we finish here?"

Harry took a drink of his wine, and nodded. "Sure. If you want. You want to see if he acts weird around me, too, don't you?"

"Maybe," Ginny said. "Garrett says Brogan never cared for him either. He said,…well, he said Brogan would get a headache if he was around O'Brien, something about there being too many emotions around him."

Harry thought about that tidbit of information. "Well, a part of me wants to say that's that. I mean, as an Empath, Brogan's instincts about people were usually spot on. It's too bad you didn't wear your bracelet since that amplifies Brogan's abilities for you."

Ginny was silent for a long moment, looking lost in thought. He knew the bracelets still bothered her but only because he knew she was letting it bother her. She was fearful of remembering Brogan too much, Harry reckoned. He could understand that.

They ate in silence for a while, each thinking of the third part of their trio. Ginny finished her meal before Harry and set her fork down.

"I talked to Mr Cosgrove about the Summer Solstice. He says that if we really want to make our first attempt, we need to book a room now. It's a popular time near Lough Gur."

"Do you think having so many Muggles around will…make it so we can't do what we need to?" Harry asked.

"No. The festival takes place the day prior, and since the Ministry has made it so no one can get into the actual Well, there won't be anyone around. Apparently, the festivities are purely ceremonial, and it's just an excuse to have a good time, drink some mead and praise Aine, so the next year's crops are good. Hardly any of them believe in her, I don't think."

"What about wizarding folks?" Harry asked as the waiter brought them an afters menu. Harry handed it to her and indicated she should pick something.

"If they do go, they go for the Muggle fun, so we should be on our own. I just hope Aine can get me in there again."

Harry knew that for Ginny, this was her biggest concern – the two of them traveling all that way and then being denied at the entrance. For Brogan to be so close to them and yet still so far away…he knew it gave her anxiety.

He reached out and took hold of her hand. "We will find a way, Gin. We've got you, the heir of Aine, we've got the bracelets, and we have the Waystone. Three against one seems like good odds, and we've proven how well we work together before. We're going to do this, you'll see. I just know it."

Ginny smiled, and he could see the tension in her shoulders ease. "You're right, of course. You know, I was reading in the book that Grange left for me that we could try to contact Brogan with the Waystone."

Harry suddenly felt intrigued and more than a little bit excited. "Really? How? Can we try it tonight?"

"A variation on a summoning spell. But it looks tricky. I think I'll have Hermione look at it first when she visits again in a few days."

"Let me see it when we get back," Harry said, absentmindedly twirling the bracelet around his wrist. "Maybe I can attempt it using the bracelet power for it."

The waiter came and got their order, and Harry chuckled as she requested a double slice of triple-chocolate cake with two forks and two gigantic Irish coffees.

"You're still determined to get used to those drinks, aren't you?"

Ginny shrugged but then smiled. "Well, I don't want Brogan to think we haven't been exploring some of the finer things his home country can offer us."

Harry snorted and then felt contrite as an old witch sitting across from them gave them a death-glare. He lowered her head closer to Ginny's side of the table.

"He'd probably take issue with that, you know."

"Ah, but you don't know that after I master the Barmbrack, I'm moving onto learning how to perfect the coffees."

Harry laughed. "I foresee a lot of hangover cures in our future. Perhaps I should have Hermione brings us a few from London when she comes back? Or, we could probably pick up some here in town, come to think of it."

"You could always try your hand at brewing some," Ginny suggested.

"I think I peaked with brewing the contraceptive potions for the three of us," Harry said, probably more loudly than he should have. The old witch threw her napkin down on her table and stood up, disdain clear on her face as she looked their way. Harry could almost hear the words, "well, I never," coming out of the old bird's mouth. He watched as Ginny stared directly back at her, as though daring the witch to say something. Harry chuckled when the witch swept out of the room with her nose turned up in the air.

"You scared her off without even a word, Gin. You're getting good."

"Old bitty," Ginny mumbled.

"The quicker we get some alcohol in you, the better, I think," Harry said, smiling.

o-o-o-o-o

As they walked along holding hands, Harry felt lighter than he had in days. Their meal had been delicious, the triple-chocolate cake, especially. And he felt slightly tipsy from the Irish coffee. Maeve's Hollow was also quite lovely at night. The many lamplights along the street gave everything an otherworldly yet romantic glow that he didn't think Hogsmeade could even come close to for charm and ambiance. Or maybe it was just that Hogsmeade, to Harry, was associated with being at school and feeling younger. Here in this town, he was practically an unknown adult, and he had the beautiful and fiery Ginny Weasley by his side ready for anything. Harry smirked at his own poetic thoughts.

"Well, this is it," Ginny said, looking up at the still-lit sign that said The Broken Quill. There was a light on inside the shop, and the "open" sign was still hanging in the front window. He looked over at Ginny to make sure she still wanted to go in.

"Might as well," she said, slipping her hand into her robe pocket.

The sound of a bell tinkled overhead, and even though there was light in the shop, Harry still felt as though he was squinting. A noise came from the back and a moment later, a middle-aged wizard with already graying hair appeared. He looked friendly enough to Harry.

"Evening, folks, I'm Michael. What can I get you on this fine night? Looking for a certain book of love poetry, perhaps, or something a bit more risqué?" The man practically waggled his eyebrows at them.

Harry and Ginny exchanged amused glances.

"Actually, I was wondering if Mr O'Brien was in this evening?" Ginny asked the man, stepping forward.

"Aye, you're here to see Sean, eh? Should have known. We don't get too many customers after the sun goes down, and if we do, they're not a day younger than 70. Hang on, I'll get him."

"That guy seems all right," Harry said, moving closer to Ginny. She nodded her head as she looked around. Harry thought that Hermione would love the place and vowed never to show it to her before any possible lunch date they would have. It was definitely an after-eating sort of shop.

"Ah, Miss Weasley! And you brought a friend. Hello, I'm Sean O'Brien."

The other man approached them, a napkin still stuck in the front of his shirt as if they'd disturbed his dinner. He held out his hand for Harry to shake, which he did after only a moment's hesitation. It was a firm grip, but Harry could suddenly understand what Ginny meant about O'Brien. When he looked at you…he really looked at you. It was as though he was peering directly into your head or your soul.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" O'Brien said now, removing the napkin with a flourish. "You'll have to pardon me, I usually don't eat until after we close, but I skipped tea this afternoon. I hope you received the book you ordered? There wasn't a problem, was there?"

"No, no problem," Ginny said, shaking her head. "But I had a few more I'm interested in, and I was wondering, well, Garrett brags that you can find anything, and I've been looking for this set most of the summer-"

Without skipping a beat, O'Brien moved to the counter and pulled out a rather large and worn collection of papers; it was too loosely bound and messy to really call it a book.

"Let me guess," O'Brien said. "The Quinn set."

Harry heard Ginny softly gasp, but she continued on and managed to keep her surprise to a minimum. "Yes, how did you know?"

"You're studying time-portals, correct? Of course, you'd be interested in that particular series," the shopkeeper said, shrugging. He started flipping through the papers as though looking for something.

Harry frowned. He had been under the impression that Hermione had found the Quinn set at Dumbledore's Library and was learning how to make a copy of them so that Ginny and he could have their own. Ginny caught his eye as though to tell him not to say anything and then tilted her head to the side to indicate he should look around. Harry nodded slightly, casually stuck his hands in his robe pockets, and started to edge away from the counter. He headed towards one of the book aisles.

He stayed towards the front of the store in case Ginny needed him. Mostly it was just O'Brien talking, and Harry could already tell that was something the other man probably liked a great deal – the sound of his own voice.

He wandered past the window and saw the sign Ginny had mentioned; in this one, you could make out the lightning bolt much clearer. It made Harry feel funny, looking at it, but he couldn't say why.

"That's the sign of Tuireann," a voice behind him said, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see the middle-aged man, Michael, smiling benignly at him. Harry wondered how long he'd been standing there watching him, as well as if he'd cast a silencing spell on himself to send people into early graves by sneaking up behind them.

"I've never seen it before," Harry said, hoping he sounded convincing. "What's the meaning behind it? Who was Tuireann?"

"Well, have you heard of Taranis?"

"Er, no, sorry," Harry admitted, feeling at a loss.

"Tis fine, he's not talked about much now, but Tuireann is Taranis, basically. He was an important figure in Irish mythology. Created thunder and can control the very heavens, it was said. Had the power of lightning at his fingertips. Here," the man stopped and produced a red book from thin air and handed it to Harry. "This is a good introduction to him if you're really interested."

Harry nodded as he looked at the book. When he looked back up, Michael was gone again, as though he'd floated off or Apparated without a sound. All right then, Harry thought. He flipped through the book and when his eyes landed on the words, "accepted human sacrifices as payment," he closed it with a snap and put it on the shelf in front of him.

"No thanks," Harry said out loud. He decided to go back to see how Ginny was managing.

Except, when he went back to the counter, she and O'Brien were no longer there. Harry frowned and had his wand in his hand without even thinking about it. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and almost called out for her before he stopped himself. Perhaps a bit of covert searching was the best way to proceed.

He tried to listen for any sound and heard a soft murmuring that could only be Ginny's voice coming from the other side of the store. He headed that way and almost wanted to cast a spell to find her but held back, not wanting to appear too antsy. Perhaps O'Brien had only suggested a few more titles for them to get.

Harry was impressed with the size of the shop and had to circle back once or twice before he found a new section. He headed closer to the sound of the voices, trying not to let his anxiety get to him. It was silly, feeling this worried in a bookshop, of all places.

Harry suddenly stopped after going around the same corner again and closed his eyes. He willed his bracelet to show him the way to Ginny. It prickled against his skin, but he soon knew where she was and turned to the right, opening his eyes again. As he turned the corner, he saw them – Ginny had her back to him and was facing O'Brien, and Harry frowned – O'Brien looked taller than he had before, and he was speaking, his voice a low rumble. Ginny nodded her head very slowly, and Harry immediately felt alarmed and hurried his step. It caught O'Brien's attention, and suddenly, it was as though the image in front of Harry changed and Ginny was laughing softly.

She turned to Harry as he reached them. "He was just showing me some other books." She held up her hand as though there was something in them, but there wasn't. Harry felt unease and quickly reached out to touch her on the shoulder. The abrupt, jerky motion caused the sleeve of his robe to fall back, and the bracelet sparkled in the soft light of the nearby candles.

"That is…that is the most…interesting bracelet, Mr Potter," O'Brien said, his voice sounding strained and a bit off, unlike how he had sounded earlier. O'Brien suddenly backed away from them as though in a hurry to get them out of the store. "I'll send these on to the Abbey for Miss Weasley. Have a good night."

Harry shook his head and looked at Ginny, who was staring off into space as though mesmerized by something Harry couldn't see. He shook her gently. "Gin? Ginny?"

Suddenly, she blinked, and she was herself again. "Hi, Harry, let's get back to the Abbey."

Harry stared at her. "Are you all right?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

"You were just standing here talking to O'Brien, and then you seemed really out of it."

Ginny laughed and waved her hand. "Oh, Sean was just telling me about some books I might like. Come on."

She grabbed his hand and led them out of the bookshop. Harry waited until the door swung shut behind them. He pulled her across the way from the shop just in case the shopkeeper and his clerk were listening or watching. Harry noticed the light in the shop went out immediately, and the sign on the door now read closed.

"Seriously, Ginny, what is going on?"

"I just wanted us to get out of there," she said, her voice low. She moved close to Harry, but her eyes continued staring behind him. "Kiss me, Harry."

"What?"

"Just kiss me. I think he's watching."

"Okay," Harry leaned in and kissed her. When they finished, he moved his mouth to her ear. "Are we still being watched?"

"Not sure," Ginny mumbled. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Don't have to ask me twice," Harry said, and they headed towards the Apparition point at the edge of town.

o-o-o-o-o

"He tried to do a spell on me," Ginny said once they were in their room at the Abbey. "And I think he's done one before, but just a small one. This one was stronger."

"How do you know?" Harry asked as he started removing his outer robes. He grabbed his pajama bottoms and nodded towards the loo. "Bath?"

"Well, for one thing, I slipped my bracelet on right before we went into the shop, and I think it protected me." Ginny nodded and started removing her robes as well. She held up her hand, and he saw her bracelet.

"But I thought you weren't wearing it tonight?"

"I wasn't," Ginny said as they entered the loo. "Doesn't mean I didn't have it on me. Molly Weasley did not raise a stupid daughter."

Harry chuckled. "No, she definitely didn't. Okay, well, I'm glad you had it with you. Funny, I didn't notice when you put it on, though."

Ginny paused and turned on the taps to the tub, picking out the scents of hyacinth and lavender from the row of glass bottles. It was their preferred scent for nighttime bathing and always relaxed him. Plus, all the lovely things they usually got up to in said bath didn't hurt either. Harry couldn't wait until they got Brogan back and used the tub with him. Harry let his mind wander for a moment and then shook himself. Ginny was sitting on the side of the tub, watching it fill as one of her legs swung aimlessly back and forth.

"But you think you fooled him into thinking his spell succeeded? What kind of spell was it?"

"That's the weird thing," Ginny said, frowning. "I'm not sure. Isn't that odd? I don't know if he was attempting Legilimency or trying to cast the Imperius. I've felt both, and this felt like those spells, but it wasn't them exactly. It felt slightly off…and more intense than either of them."

"Wait," Harry said, watching as she slipped into the bath, disappearing under the pink and purple bubbles. "When have you had the Imperius cast at you?"

"Bill. He wanted us to know what it felt like, so we could fight it if we needed to, Ministry be damned. And of course, I've felt you try to get into my head before."

Harry rolled his eyes as he climbed into the tub, hissing as the hot water touched his skin. Ginny always liked her baths a bit warmer than he did.

"That was a joke, and you know it. Okay, so…what information do you think O'Brien wanted from you? And hang on…" Harry paused, thinking over their evening. Something about the whole thing bothered Harry. "Did you tell him my name, by any chance?"

Ginny's eyes widened as though she'd just remembered it too. "No! I didn't! And he used it, didn't he? And when he saw your bracelet, it was like he couldn't get us out of there fast enough."

"Yeah, I noticed that. For some reason, the bracelet really spooked him. As for him knowing me, well, I reckon Garrett could have mentioned me to him?"

"No. Can you see Garrett gossiping with someone about you? Hardly. He just knew it. Without us having to tell him."

"Well, I mean, to be fair, Gin, he could have recognized me. And you are known to be my partner. We're pretty famous. Well, now, since Voldemort is gone. Maybe that's all it is. Otherwise, I'm not sure that I want to know how he knew who I was. It's unsettling. I'm not even wearing my glasses."

Ginny sighed as she rested against the side of the tub, kicking her legs out in front of her. Harry floated next to her, giving her a smile.

"Want me to wash your hair for you? Give you one of my famous scalp massages?"

Ginny gave him a tired smile. "No. No offense, love, but I don't want to be bothered. Let's just relax tonight."

They floated in the tub until they were both turning wrinkly and then got out, and Harry wrapped them both into the soft, white fluffy towels the Abbey had. He handed Ginny her dressing gown and slipped his pajama bottoms on, and they lay back on the bed. Ginny sighed and rested her head on his chest.

"Did you want to try that thing with the Waystone tonight?" Harry asked, remembering their topic at dinner.

Ginny lifted her head. "Not really, but I can tell that you do. I saw how excited you were at dinner. It might not work, Harry. And we might feel even more bereft afterward."

"I promise not to mope if it doesn't work," Harry said, closing his hand around hers.

"Hmm, that would be what Mum calls a pie crust promise, you know. Easily made and easily broken."

But she got up and rummaged in the other room for a moment and came back carrying the Waystone book. She handed it to him.

"Page 35, second paragraph."

Harry quickly flipped to it and read it while Ginny fetched their bracelets from the side of the tub where they'd left them. She slipped hers on while he read.

"Well, it just looks like the most important part is that we concentrate," Harry finally said. He committed the wand movements to memory and then looked at her. She had to do the same as him but reverse; they had to be mirror images of each other. But he also knew it definitely wouldn't work if her focus was off.

Ginny nodded her head with a determined motion, and Harry grinned, recognizing the glint of steel in her eyes as he saw her resolve. They practiced without their wands a few tries until he thought they had it down. She slipped her Waystone ring off of her finger and set it in-between them on the bed. They were both sitting cross-legged, facing each other.

"I invoke with the way of the stone to bring to light that which we are seeking," Ginny said softly. She tapped the ring with her wand, and it slowly started to glow. Harry did his part and tapped it again with his wand.

"I invoke with the way of the stone to bring to light that which we are seeking," Harry repeated, and the glow around the ring started to intensify. Ginny did her wand movement first, nailing it on the first try. Harry felt a burst of hope in his chest. They could do this! He matched her actions, and then they both waited as the stone in the ring started to hum quietly. A flash of bright light suddenly erupted in between them, and then it was over, almost as quickly as it had begun. Harry held his breath, and when nothing else happened, he tried not to frown.

"The book says if it worked, we'd see Brogan appear," Ginny said, looking puzzled. "I felt sure that it worked."

"I did too, but," Harry looked around their bedroom, feeling sad. "I don't see him."

"I'm sorry, love," Ginny said. "Maybe my focus is off because of what happened earlier. We can try again tomorrow."

"All right," Harry said, sighing. She picked up the ring and looked at it, frowning. She slipped it on again and then gave him a dejected look. Harry pulled her into his arms and tsked at her.

"It's fine, Gin, nothing worth it ever happened on the first try, you know that."

"Do I know that?" Ginny asked, but she smiled, and he knew they would be okay. Harry used his wandless magic to lower the candlelight in the room, and he floated their wands over to the side of the bed. Ginny pulled down the covers, and they settled into bed together.

He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. He tried not to let his disappointment get the better of him – they would eventually succeed. There was no way something as good and as true as their love for Brogan could end like this – so cut off – with so much left undone between them. Harry realized he felt as though his heart understood that in a way that his brain didn't. They would get him back one way or another. Even if it took them the rest of their lives.

o-o-o-o-o

"Brogan, what are you doing?"

The other man smiled at him and held out his hand, giving Harry a collection of small, brown beans. "My first coffee harvest. It was quite the trial getting them to grow, by the way. You might say I've been waiting for this first crop since I got stuck here. God, I can't wait for a nice cup of coffee."

He stood and headed back into the cave. Harry got up to follow, looking around as he did so. The cave was lovely – much nicer than he'd expected. Although Harry was unsure of what he'd expected, exactly. He stood at the entrance to Brogan's living area and watched him, feeling his heart fill with emotion just to see him. He wished suddenly that Ginny was there with them.

"Oh, she was here earlier, Harry," Brogan said, smiling at him. Harry felt compelled to join the other man, and so he did. He touched him, hesitant, at first and then, when Brogan did not disappear into thin air, with more confidence.

"We can touch," he murmured, feeling amazed.

"Aye, but it won't last long, once we really start, for some reason," Brogan said, his blue eyes growing darker as Harry moved closer, already pulling the other man's head down for a kiss.

Harry paused and held back as the meaning of those words sunk in. He forced himself to pull away at the last moment. He was too happy to see their lover to ruin it for a snog. Brogan chuckled at him.

"Tell Ginny you resisted longer than she did. That'll drive her spare."

Harry laughed and looked around again. "So you're happy? I mean, you're all right here? For now? You're not…you're not too lonely, are you?"

Brogan sat down at a small table set for one and nodded at Harry to join him. "It is what it is, Harry. I'm making do. I'm not going to sugar-coat it, but I do miss you two terribly. Don't ever think that I don't. My over-active imagination is a curse in this place. But tell me, how are you two, really? Ginny and I didn't talk so much as…."

Harry grinned as the image of what Ginny had done filled his head. He realized Brogan had touched his hand briefly to share the image with him, and his skin felt pleasantly warm and was still tingling at the touch.

"She managed to do me proud then," Harry said, smiling. Brogan laughed, but his cheeks turned pink in remembering.

"It's a welcome thing in this place…the feel of another person's touch. I would say that's what I miss the most."

"We're trying. We're working so hard to get you back," Harry said quickly, wanting the other man to know they had not given up on him.

"I know," Brogan said, looking wistful. "And while one part of me wants to tell you two to just forget about it and go on with your lives, there's a bigger, more selfish part of me that wants you to keep going. When the necklace heated up earlier, I got excited, I have to admit. I was glad I had it on. I usually don't wear it. But now I'll have it on all the bloody time."

He looked down at his chest, and Harry saw the Waystone necklace winking at him, and he understood then that the spell they'd done earlier had worked. And this dream, this…in-between place or whatever it was, was its result. He only wished he could…Harry held out his hand, suddenly wanting to chase away Brogan's lonely feeling because now Harry could feel it too, and it was staggering.

"I don't care if this does cut my visit short. I want to…." Harry leaned forward and pulled Brogan to him, trying to memorize everything about him. Everything his mind had already started to forget. The way his hair fell to the side, the dark-blue color of his eyes, now gazing back at him as though it was taking all of his willpower not to give in as well. But Harry knew he had to speak from his heart before anything else happened. "I'm so sorry I trapped you here, Brogan. Please believe me."

Brogan sighed as he lightly rested his head against Harry's. He closed his eyes and then quickly re-opened them, determination on his face. "Understand this, Harry Potter, you had nothing to do with this. It was all Aine. And, really, it was her way of saving me. I was supposed to have died, you know, so I really can't complain too much. Please don't beat yourself up. I said it to Ginny, and I'm telling you, being stuck here beats being dead any day. Because even if I am stuck here, there is the hope…the possibility that someday…someday I won't be. And that is what gets me through the lonely nights."

As Brogan touched him, Harry felt his heart fill with a wild, untamed emotion – there was relief mixed in with love and worry and, oh yes, need. He had been blaming himself since it had happened, and to hear Brogan's words cheered him. And it comforted him in that way the other man always had. It was a sensation that Harry had definitely missed.

Harry couldn't help himself – he leaned forward and kissed him. If he woke up in two seconds, he didn't care. He wanted to spend his last moments in this dream doing what felt good – what felt right. There was the sharp clang of dishes hitting the floor, and he realized Brogan had pulled him across the table practically, answering his kiss with a passionate one of his own. It was as though there was just too much in-between them, and there were hands moving everywhere and heated breaths and oh, the sound of Brogan's voice in his ear…

Harry blinked into the harsh light of day and moaned in frustration. Something shifted next to him, and Ginny was suddenly holding him. She wrapped her arms around him, and he could tell she'd been crying, the tear-stains still on her face. He clutched at her, wanting to feel her warmth and her realness under his fingers. To keep himself from falling apart.

"I know, I know," she said, kissing him. "It hurts so much when you wake up. I am so…I'm so sorry, love. I should have known. I could have prepared us better."

Harry bit back a sob, unable to argue with her at the moment. His emotions were swirling, ricocheting around inside him. It was as though it had just happened. As though they were sitting on the floor in the Department of Mysteries, the time portal closing with finality in front of them. Harry felt the hole in his heart – the hole that he had been trying to ignore — break wide open, as he and Ginny clung to each other.

Both of them remembering, once more, all that they had lost.

o-o-o-o-o