Chapter 3
May 2, 2001
12 Grimmauld Place
His head hurt. Hagrid had to have placed a baby dragon, a hippogriff and a glittery rubber ball in his skull. The baby dragon was a far better football player than the hippogriff as the ball was continually going into the net that was placed just behind his left ear. He shook his head.
Ginny barely stirred. Her arm was across his chest, and her face was buried in the pillow avoiding the light streaming through the floor to ceiling windows. He could see her naked body outlined underneath the cotton sheet. Kreacher had evidently decided to earn a punishment by opening up the curtains and flooding the room with brilliantly sunlight. He should have known better after last year that this morning was a morning for darkness, quiet and greasy breakfasts for his master.
Harry tried to wordless cast ACCIO Hangover Potion but the words could not form right in his brain. Instead, he gently disentangled himself from Ginny and walked across the master suite and pulled the stopper off the small orange vial. The potion was foul, smelling of rotten eggs, gym socks left in his Quidditch bag for a week and a hint of fermented oat mash. He tipped his head, and before the first drops passed his lips, he felt his eyes roll.
"I don't want to. Don't make me….don't like, want to stop…" Professor Dumbledore's face was contorted worse than if he had been Crucio-ed by Bellatrix or even Voldemort. His eyes were full of tears as the worst memories of his life and his greatest mistakes. His pitiful whimpering faded out as the last drops of the potion went down Harry's throat. Even as his stomach calmed, he tipped over, his hands on his knees.
His scar was calm. It had not bothered him for three years now. But that was all that was calm. Dumbledore had not popped into his head in months. Usually, a battle or a skirmish from school could fill his mind when he least expected it. Occulumancy could keep out other thoughts from his head, but he could not protect himself from his own thoughts.
As he was catching his breath, he could feel Ginny's arms reach around him. Her nakedness warmed him and in any other circumstance, he would have been a healthy twenty year old man with his beautifully nude girlfriend. Instead he just allowed himself to collapse onto the cold wooden floor.
"Harry, you're safe. I'm here. You're safe" Ginny's voice was quiet and calm. Anyone looking at the two could see the tenderness. Anyone listening would have thought Muffliato had been cast. She was helping Harry this morning. He had held her many nights in the past when the nightmares of her sixth year shook her. His head was in her lap. Her fingers stroked his hair as she kept up her mantra:
"You're safe. I'm here. You're safe."
He stayed with Ginny until he could feel his feet respond to his commands.
He stayed with Ginny until he could feel his stomach unclench.
He stayed with Ginny until Professor Dumbledore's voice could not be heard.
He rose and hugged his girlfriend and then kissed her on her forehead. It was not the start of a bout of frantic lovemaking but it was the intimacy beyond that of most lovers shared in that simple kiss.
"Thanks Gin…"
She smiled. The smile did not hide the pain well. This was the third time this week that Harry had a few drinks, not too many but enough to make him snore and sour his stomach, and woke up seeing Dumbledore or Cedric or Severus in his mind. He had gone weeks without those memories assaulting him, but this week was a hard week. She had her dreams as well. The first time that she was tortured by Alecto had whipped around in her skull on Tuesday night. Harry ended up holding her for hours. He refused to sleep while she was still awake. They trundled into their jobs barely functional on Wednesday. Wednesday was worse as Harry saw Cedric and she saw the night that half of Slytherin ran a train on a 5th Year Hufflepuff Muggle-born witch. She and Neville were forced to watch and any noise that they made resulted in Crucios and engorgement charms. That young girl was one of the first students the DA evacuated. Neither of them could help each other. Tonight she was lucky, a few pleasant dreams about Quidditch and the thought of being Aunt Ginny. She could help tonight.
They sat on their king sized bed, shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, knee to knee. Silence was comfortable between them.
"Let's see the mischief that the rest of the Army has caused since we got home…."
"Coffee and eggs first hun…"
As they stepped out of the master suite, chaos was evident. Kreacher would be appalled. The night before Remembrance Day had become a free for all for Dumbledore's Army. Katie and Padma were walking around topless, hand in hand. Dean Thomas was slowly pistoning Luna as she was moaning and directing him to slow down and allow her to ride the dragon. This morning was tame. Last year, the orgy was ongoing until an hour before the entire Army needed to be at the Ministry for the Portkey. The lovers and significant others who were not in the Army were learning not to ask questions about what happened at Grimmwauld Place on the night before Remembrance Day. The participants signed a magical contract that Hermione had more gently cursed than the original DA contract that bound them to silence.
Harry dodged Parvati and Neville racing on brooms in the hall. They at least had pajamas on. Hermione and Ron were in the kitchen. Oatmeal and eggs were in front of them. Ron had already finished a first plate.
Harry looked at the white streak in Hermione's hair and asked the obvious question.
"Did Kreacher bring down frosted cinnamon rolls, they are delicious." Her face turned the same color as Ron's hair while Ginny laughed.
"Morning mate, morning Gin…. you sleep well?" Ron was trying to be considerate. It was a wasted effort with three spoonfuls of oats in his mouth.
"No worse than normal"
"Dreams again Harry?" Hermione was concerned. She bit her lip as she still had her dreams. Second year petrification competed with Bellatrix for pride of place. She hid her scars as well as she could from her parents; they saw Mudblood on her wrist and knew that it was a war wound, but she did not want them to worry. They had wanted her to talk to a therapist but what could they do; Muggles were outside the Statue of Secrecy and who would believe her anyways.
"Professor Dumbledore drinking Riddle's poison… I just had a few too many drinks last night…"
Ginny and Hermione did their best to hide the disbelieving glance that they shared. Harry's hangover and Ron's ravishment provided cover. One of the most important men in both of their lives was still not right after three years. Ginny remembered that Harry had more dreams and worse nights whenever there was an event. This year was, so far, slightly better than last year which was far better than the first year.
Kreacher apparated next to the four young adults.
"Master Potter and friends, your clothes are set on your beds. Kreacher appreciates the opportunity to clean and purify the house this afternoon." The house elf topped off the coffee and put a plate of pastries on the table. He had become more welcoming to the chaos that the Army had produced each year. Harry and Ginny asked very little of him most of the year. They did not entertain more than Ron and Hermione or the Weasley family gatherings. They seldom had guests of high import over. This was the one time that his skills and magics could be flexed. It was still a downgrade, cleaning up a teenage orgy, from the days when the Black Family could invite the entire Wizamgamot and have at least two thirds attend a soiree, but his masters were young and he could train them.
By mid-afternoon everyone had dressed. Most had showered and the remainder has Scourgified themselves. Dress robes were the uniform of the day. Harry whistled appreciatively as Ginny modeled her risque robes that he had bought for her for Valentine's Day. They were long and heavy enough to qualify as useless for day to day wear, but the V-cut and laced appartures left very little to his imagination.
Lavender was helping Luna adjust her robes. Luna never was able to get her medals lined up. Her Order of Merlin 2nd Class should have been flanked by a commendation medal on the left and her NEWT qualifications on the right. The bars should be aligned at the top while the heavy gold and platinum globe with a sword cutting through it should have hung just over her heart. Nothing was lined up right. Many thought that Luna's sense of direction had to be jinxed as anything she wore would always be slightly off of alignment. Lavender tried anyways.
Neville's bass boomed. "Floo in five minutes, Portkey in twenty"
Shoes were pulled tight. Wands were holstered. Sneakerscopes and Foe Glasses slid into pockets and mokeskin bags. Hermione held her infinitely extended clutch underneath her arm. It contained a full field infirmary, half a dozen brooms and a wall of the most useful objects from Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. She never went anywhere without her bug out bag.
"Army advance"
Harry held Ginny's hand and they each took a pinch of Floo powder.
"Auror's Office Ministry of Magic"
The fireplace erupted in green flames, and they entered.
Somewhere in Muggle London
He put on his coat. The temperature was coming down. His last meeting had ended well. He saw her twice a month and today was a good session. Nothing too much was on his mind. He told her about the backfire last night and how the kids across the pub had to be veterans. She asked if this was important and he had to concede it was merely odd.
As he jiggled his jacket to find his keys, he was so glad that his wife had insisted he talk to a -5 approved therapist. It was emotional nakedness with a beautiful young woman to save their marriage. He was a smart enough man to go to the knock-out on the directions of his wife. The first year he talked to Janice twice a week and had called her in the middle of the night more than once. Now their talks were more like changing the oil on a car and inflating the tyres when the seasons changed. Maintenance to avoid problems rather than replacing the head gaskets on his 1981 Jaguar.
