It was a beautiful autumn day, made all the better because it landed on her day off. She adjusted the heavy bag she carried over her shoulder, wondering why she hadn't put a feather-light charm on it before leaving her flat.
It hadn't felt so heavy, but the walk to the Dusty Dragon was long enough that her arms were burning from the exertion of carrying it. She'd remember next time, she promised herself.
"Morning! Lookin' as lovely as ever, Miss Jones."
"Thanks, Garth."
He eyed the bag she held, soft amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Time to visit the wee ones again?"
"Every week, you know that," she huffed, setting the bag down and brushing some sweaty blonde locks out of her eyes. "Can you spare a glass of water?"
"Certainly! Don't you hurry off yet, got something for ya'." He set the glass on the counter and disappeared into the kitchen.
Megan took a long drink, then turned her wrist to check the time on her watch. She had a few minutes before her normal arrival, but still she liked to maximize what time she had.
Her worries turned out to be fruitless, however, as Garth soon reappeared with a covered basket. "Mable made these two nights ago, you normally go visit on Sundays."
"Holyhead's fighting for a spot in the semi-finals," she muttered, glancing inside the basket. It was positively overflowing with tarts, scones, and biscuits. "Oh my goodness, you shouldn't have! I can pay you for this-"
"I won't hear of it," Garth said firmly, leaning over the counter to cast a feather-light charm on her bag. "You're a good lass, Miss Jones. Stay for a spot of dinner on your way home and tell us all about it, yea?"
"I will," she promised, slipping the basket under the same arm she used to lift the now weightless bag. A pinch of Floo powder, a firm call of her destination, and Megan was on her way to the best part of her week.
When she arrived, St. Mungo's was awash with people. Few of them looked ill or in need of treatment, which made her struggle to get through the crowd with her bags. Megan let out a sigh of relief as she caught sight of a familiar face wearing the distinctive lilac-coloured healer robes.
"Patricia!"
Her friend's harried expression lit up in recognition, and she shouldered her way to Megan and practically dragged her through the deluge of witches and wizards. "What are you doing here? You never come on a weekday!"
"I had to work yesterday, I couldn't make it. What on earth is going on here?"
Patricia Stimpson had been a Third Year when Megan started at Hogwarts. They'd met when Professor Sprout asked Tricia to help Megan with her studies. Over the years, the prefect and then Head Girl never once failed to ask how her classes were going, offer assistance or just some friendly advice. She'd been the one to turn Megan onto healing, and no one was surprised when Patricia got offers to join St. Mungo's the moment she graduated.
"I would've warned you off if I'd known you were coming. We've got a celebrity visit today. It's a nice gesture, and I'm sure the patients appreciate it, but the press coverage…" she sighed. "It's all we could do to keep them penned up here in the lobby, and Merlin help anyone who shows up in need of urgent medical treatment. It's a zoo."
"Who's big enough to command that sort of entourage?"
"Puddlemere United. They're doing a walkthrough of the entire hospital, but like you might imagine, the children's ward features heavily on their itinerary."
"Oh." It wasn't all that uncommon; several teams required participation in charitable events as part of every contract. Megan hesitated, her walk alongside Patricia through the corridor slowing to a halt. "Should I- do you want me to leave?" She didn't want to go. This was the best part of her week, the thing she looked forward to after every bad day at work.
"Actually, I'm glad you came. Besides our patients with chronic conditions, the parents of many of our semi-regular kids dropped them off. Puddlemere announced the visit in the Prophet, so you can imagine how excited the children are." Patricia paused, then leaned her head towards Megan's, lowering her voice. "I really hope they actually spend time with them. The last time a League team came, they barely stayed long enough to drop off a box of merchandise. The children were devastated."
Megan took a deep breath. She could very well imagine how difficult that would've been for the patients with chronic illnesses, most of whom already struggled with feeling unwanted. "Which team was that?" 'Please don't say Holyhead…'
"Appleby. The Director made it known they wouldn't be welcome back. What've you got in the basket?" Patricia was present for Megan's visits often enough to already know what she carried in her bag of toys and costumes.
"Some snacks for the little ones," she replied, distracted by the cacophonous noise that greeted them when the door opened.
The first thing she noticed was a tall, lanky man sitting at the bedside of one of the ward's 'live-in' patients. There was a group of children around him, holding up various Puddlemere jerseys, caps, and other apparel for him to sign. He was perhaps ten years older than she was, with straight brown hair and a prominent brow.
On the floor, though, surrounded by nearly a dozen children was the same man who'd come storming into the Harpies' locker room the week prior. Harry was rolling a quaffle back and forth between three children also seated on the floor. Perched on his lap was little Ruby Winfield, who'd been abandoned by her father after being turned in a werewolf attack that killed her mother.
Megan paused, just inside the door, unable to tear her eyes away from him. The quaffle came rolling back, and Harry wrapped his hands around Ruby's, helping her give it a shove towards another child. Unlike the other player, Harry was wearing formal dress robes with his Order of Merlin pinned prominently on his chest, along with a purple wizard's hat decorated with moving stars.
Patricia slipped past her into the ward. "Ollie! It's been awhile!"
Her greeting and subsequent conversation with him served to jar Megan out of her trance. That turned out to be fortuitous, not just because of the strange, fluttery feeling inside her at seeing his gentle interactions. Ruby's tiny body, adorned with the scars and traumas from her monthly transformation, typically made the few visitors the children's ward received intensely uncomfortable.
"Who's hungry?" Nothing like a swarm of kids eager to see what treats she'd brought along with her to take her attention away from seeing Harry Potter - war hero, professional athlete, celebrity - acting so natural and kind towards sick children.
"Megan!" Ruby called out, and Megan's eyes followed Harry's hands helping the disabled girl to her feet in complete defiance of her resolution moments prior. "You didn't come yesterday!"
Handing off the basket of treats from the Dusty Dragon to one of the older patients, Megan met Ruby halfway. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I was called away to work. I didn't realise you'd have other visitors today."
She took Ruby's extended hand. "It's really Harry Potter," the little girl said with a hushed awe that drew a laugh from the man in question.
"The one and only," he said, rising to his feet. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."
Up close, wearing a disarming smile, Harry didn't look anything like the man that had come storming into the Harpies' locker room a week prior - well, that wasn't quite true. Indeed, even though his dress robes and wizard's hat fully covered him, Megan's mind had no trouble filling the gap with images of him in that form-fitting shirt.
He started to hold out his right hand before cataloging the way hers was tangled in Ruby's, and instead they shared an awkward left-handed shake. His fingers were rough and calloused, his grip firm but not too tight. A current of electricity shot up her arm at his touch, the spark igniting a slow heat that pooled deep in her belly.
It wasn't until Ruby piped up, sharing that Megan came to visit every week that she realised they were still holding hands. She broke off the contact, embarrassed. It was probably the left-handed handshake that made for the awkwardly extended greeting. Megan reflexively glanced at his face, worried to see his reaction.
Only Harry didn't look uncomfortable, or irritated, or amused, no; she watched, morbidly, as his eyes traced a languid path up her body, pausing for several heartbeats at her breasts. What was he- there was no way Harry Potter was checking her out. And- and even if he was, she certainly didn't want for him to.
Her body, though, seemed to have assumed control from her logic and reason, and she felt herself inhale and ever-so-slightly straighten her shoulders. The movement made her breasts strain against her shirt, and his eyes flicked up to meet hers.
'Oh, sweet Morgana' The look in his eyes was pure, liquid desire - or was it merely a reflection of her own gaze? She could feel her face explode in warmth, sure she must appear as red as Ruby's namesake. What was the matter with her?
"Megan, was it?"
"Yes, that's right."
"You work for the Harpies. I saw you when, er, during my last visit."
Yes. When he came to see his girlfriend, she reminded herself. What sort of man stared so blatantly at other women when he had someone like Ginny Weasley to come home to?
'A quidditch player, that's who'
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about causing a scene."
Despite knowing better, a flutter of satisfaction swirled inside her at being remembered. It didn't hurt her confidence to be noticed - the locker room had been full of fit, naked witches, after all.
"Hey, Harry!" He turned away from her to look back at his teammate. "Tricia and I are going to the canteen for a cuppa, want to join us?"
Oh, Patricia. If she could, Megan would've shaken the stars out of her friend's eyes, or at least waved her arms in some kind of wild warning. Getting involved with a quidditch player was bad enough, but providing the excuse for him to skip out on the charity visit?
The whole ward seemed to fall silent, the children waiting to hear his response. Megan couldn't suppress her frown; after she'd just complained about the Appleby Arrows disappointing the hospital's patients, Patricia herself was taking them away from-
"What, leave already? C'mon Cap, you don't want them to start rooting for Ballycastle, do you?" Though his tone was lighthearted, she could see the way Harry's shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. "Besides, those snacks I saw passed around look loads better than hospital food."
"Oh, right, of course." At least Patricia had the good grace to look ashamed. Ollie, on the other hand, took the rebuke in stride, looking for the basket of food she'd brought. "Oi, pass me one of those pies, won't you?" And just like that, the stillness vanished and the ward descended once more into a dull roar of chaotic play.
Harry turned back to face her, and their eyes locked together. They both grinned, and he tilted his head in his captain's direction before quickly rolling his eyes. The exchange was playful, almost flirtatious - and entirely inappropriate. She schooled her features, erasing the smile and clearing her throat, but Harry was already leaning down to Ruby's eye level.
"We'd better go get some food before Oliver eats it all," he told her, holding out his hand to escort the little girl over to the basket Garth had provided her.
She watched him lead the girl away, his pace slowed to match Ruby's stilted gait, hand delicately cradling hers. Megan took a deep breath, then swallowed heavily. Maybe some air was a good idea.
Slipping out of the ward, she leaned against the wall in the corridor. 'Get a hold of yourself!' This was probably just a reaction to the stack of replies from the Prophet sitting on her kitchen table. Actually doing something had her all keyed up, that was all. Some of the anxiety, the eager nervousness she'd felt since unexpectedly encountering Harry eased. That's all it was, just a transference of her desire to get out there and make a life for herself onto an attractive man she wasn't expecting to see. It made perfect sense.
A wailing cry nearby drew her attention, and Megan opened her eyes to look across the corridor where a woman was trying in vain to calm a young child. Maybe a parent of one of the patients inside? No, she decided, probably not given the woman's advanced age and the youth of the child, maybe three or four years old.
"I want Daddy!"
"Just calm down, he'll be along soon enough-"
"NO!"
"Hey, little guy," she said, shooting a questioning glance to the older woman for permission. "I'm sure your dad'll be here shortly." Megan reached inside her purse, pulling out a piece of candy. "This lolli might help the time go by faster, though."
"What do you say, Teddy?" the woman asked, shooting her a grateful look over the boy's shoulder. She bent down to set him on the floor, and Megan worriedly took in the way the woman grimaced as she slowly stood back up.
Her concern, though, vanished with a gasp as the little boy faced her, hand held out expectantly. Megan blinked once, twice, but whatever hallucination that apparently befell her did not dissipate. The boy - 'Teddy' she corrected - might as well have been a Polyjuiced duplicate of a young Harry, down to the wild hair, green eyes, and even the faded outline of his infamous scar over one brow.
"Where's your daddy, sweetheart?" she managed to choke out as he unwrapped the candy. Surely, there was no way…
"In there," he pointed to the door behind her before jamming the sweet into his mouth.
It just- it couldn't be. A Potter child surely would have made the papers, been big enough news that even someone like Megan would know. Hadn't he been involved with Ginny at Hogwarts? The child certainly didn't look to have an ounce of Weasley blood in him. Maybe Harry had given the rookie chaser good reason to be suspicious over the years, if there were illegitimate children in the picture.
Well. At least she didn't have to worry about the bizarre, instant attraction she'd felt for him. The man was clearly a reprobate, given the way he treated Ginny and apparently his own son.
"I'm Andromeda Tonks," the woman said. "And you've already met my grandson, Teddy."
"Megan Jones," she replied, aware of how stiff and irritated her voice was. "Why are you waiting out here? Surely you both would be more comfortable inside."
Andromeda seemed as cross as Megan felt for a moment, but only a moment. "We didn't want to interrupt his visit with the children."
"You're looking for Harry, then? I'll grab him for you." Megan didn't bother waiting for a reply; no one could fail to see the resemblance. Opening the door to the ward, she slipped back inside.
Finding him took no effort. Ruby was still perched on his lap, but now Harry was seated next to Ritchie Kent, a teenager who'd suffered permanent nerve damage from extended Cruciatus exposure. Holding a plate of snacks and balancing Ruby in one hand, he was using the other to hold up a glass of water with a straw for Ritchie to have a drink.
Her anger faltered briefly at the scene. How could such a cad like him be so gentle and kind? Megan shook herself. Harry Potter's ability to disguise his true character only made him all the worse in her opinion.
She cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter, could I speak with you?"
Her expression must have given her away, because he carefully set down the food and drink and maneuvered his way free of Ruby. "Yes?"
"There's someone waiting for you outside."
His brow furrowed, but he followed her out of the ward nonetheless. The door barely closed behind him before Teddy let out an excited shout and charged at him. "Daddy!"
"Harry, remember? I'm Harry," he said, squatting down to awkwardly pat the boy on the back while Teddy embraced him. "Andi, I wasn't expecting you."
His voice was neutral, but the rest of him obviously screamed discomfort. Where was the man who was such a natural with sick and disabled children? Certainly not in this corridor, Megan thought darkly, glowering as Harry extricated himself from Teddy's hold, peeling off the lollipop stuck to his dress robes instead of picking up his son. Teddy stood directly in front of him with his arms raised, but Harry only ruffled the boy's hair.
And he wouldn't let his son call him 'Dad'?
"It's supposed to be your day," Andromeda replied tightly, her voice low.
"I couldn't very well cancel on the charity visit. I wrote a note for you for Kreacher to take when he brought him back, didn't I?"
This didn't sound like a conversation Teddy should hear, but judging by the way neither Harry nor Andromeda were backing down, it was going to happen regardless. She squatted down on the tiled floor, beckoning the little boy to come closer.
"Here, I've got another lolli to replace your other one," she offered, and swept Teddy off his feet and hopefully out of earshot from the argument brewing. "Tell me about your dad, won't you?"
Teddy, with his father now present, was happy to extol Harr- Potter's virtues to the nice lady with a bag full of candy. It kept him distracted and cheerful, and Megan used that opportunity to catch what scraps of conversation she could overhear between the others.
"-did you expect, dropping him off like that? I can't-"
"-told you that you have to start taking responsibility, he needs you-"
"-got you, doesn't he? You're his grandmother, he-"
Megan carried Teddy another few steps away. She'd heard enough, and did her best to entertain Teddy while their discussion finished. He'd just finished counting out how many years old he was ("Three!") when there was a tap on her shoulder.
"Here, I've got him," Potter said, and they made a jumbled swap there in the corridor. "What do you say, little man, want to go meet some of my friends inside the ward?" This close, his scent enveloped her, rich and earthy. She licked her lips.
Teddy happily agreed, although Megan was sure he was so starved for parental affection he'd have agreed to leap into a volcano so long as his father was there alongside him. She held her hand up to return Teddy's goodbye, furious both at his reaction to his son, and her body's continued reaction to him.
"What an arse," she muttered once the door was closed.
"He's not that bad, not really."
Megan spun around, surprised to see Andromeda near enough to have heard her quiet exclamation. "I can't believe you'd defend him. You should be on your grandson's side, not his deadbeat dad's."
Eyebrows raised at her fervour, Andromeda took a moment to reply. "I don't think you fully understand the situation, though given how it looked that's not very surprising." Megan opened her mouth, intent on telling her that she didn't care to hear any excuses, but Andromeda continued before she could get a word out. "Teddy isn't Harry's son."
She couldn't stop her automatic reaction to such a blatant lie. Megan laughed. "What?"
"Teddy is my daughter's son, but Harry is his godfather, not his, ah, real father."
"They look exactly alike."
"Only on Harry's days with him. Teddy is a metamorphmagus, he tends to change his appearance based on his environment."
"Metamorphmagus?" She didn't know what that was, but a lifetime of humiliations had taught her sometimes it was better not to admit to ignorance. "Oh. I see."
"Do you work in the children's ward? I was a healer myself, until-" Andromeda cut herself off, pausing for a moment and then continuing, "I stepped down to take care of my grandson."
"No, I'm not a healer," she said, some of the old wistfulness seeping into her words. "I'm a trainer for Holyhead."
"Quidditch is interesting, but you're very good with children. I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds by saying you missed your calling."
"I appreciate that. I actually applied to St. Mungo's, but it's very competitive, and my school marks weren't great."
Andromeda quickly pounced on that. "So you're not happy with your work?"
"I didn't say that." But she didn't deny it, either. "I couldn't help but overhear some of your, uh, conversation with Harry."
"Did Teddy?" Andromeda let out a sigh of relief when Megan shook her head. "His custody has been something of a point of contention between us, recently. I knew Harry was far too young to take care of Teddy full-time after the war, but it's been several years and I'm not getting any younger."
Megan looked her over, this time through the eyes of a professional in the medical field. Andromeda looked worn, tired. She was pale, if not drawn, and the skin on her hands looked thinner than parchment. There was tension in her shoulders, likely from the same discomfort that had her slightly hunched forward. "Are you alright? When was the last time you saw a healer?"
The wrinkles around her eyes lengthened and grew as Andromeda's expression tightened. "I'm fine."
"Of course." The abrupt change in their conversation's tone made Megan realise how much of her visit to the children's ward - her favourite part of every week - she'd spent dealing with quidditch players and their problems. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to the children."
"Certainly. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jones."
"Likewise," she replied, turning to head back in, determined to get this day back on track.
But try as she might, the dynamic between Harry and Teddy proved to be magnetic, drawing gaze frequently over the next hour. Teddy was clearly enamoured with his godfather, and for all that Harry remained a natural with patients he was obviously hesitant with the little boy's affection. She couldn't understand it.
When he finally left (with Ollie and Patricia following arm in arm), Megan breathed out a sigh of relief. She lingered for another few minutes, but the children were clearly worn out from the team's visit. It was time for her to head back to Laudffen, have a quick dinner with Garth and Mable, and then go home and finally open some of those letters.
And, perhaps most importantly, to put Harry Potter and his problems out of her mind.
Megan never had much success with men. Certainly some part of that had to do with her childhood; well into her teens she continually sought out parental, rather than romantic affection. She remembered her first crush - Cedric Diggory, like most girls in her year - and how many of her fantasies about him simply revolved around having a mother to give her advice on how to get the boy she fancied to notice her.
It must have been so easy for her classmates, she used to think with no small amount of envy; mothers and sisters to teach them about cosmetics, fashion. To pick out clothes, offer advice, ease their worries. None of her classmates needed Madam Pomfrey to explain what their monthlies were, after all. Megan was envious for a lot of reasons.
Of course, those reasons hardly mattered now. No, now her excuses were far more mature: she worked too much, or she spent her free time in other ways (like at St. Mungo's), or she had standards that were too high. Whatever it took to convince herself it was perfectly reasonable that she was almost twenty-two years old and had never had a boyfriend.
It was silly, though, wasn't it? To be so afraid of what she wanted? The thought made her laugh, this time genuinely, as she stared at the wizard walking next to her.
"That's really funny!"
He smiled back at her, pleased she appeared to appreciate his story. Bentley Gardner worked in the Department of Magical Artefacts at the Ministry, age thirty-three, muggleborn. When they met up for their date, just outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, he'd stood eye-level with her, a bit weedy with thinning hair and a squint that made her wonder if he needed glasses. He didn't make her knees weak or her heart beat faster, but he seemed reliable, solid, and down to earth.
He was also the first response from the Prophet she'd agreed to meet for a date.
"So, Bentley, what made you respond to my ad?"
"Call me Ben," he offered, jamming his hands into his pockets despite the pleasant temperature. "And I'm not really sure. I spend most of my time on this side of Charing Cross. Most of my relationships have been with muggle women, and it hasn't been easy."
"Really? But you're a muggleborn!" Surely he'd have no problem navigating the cultural differences.
Ben shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things about muggle living that are wonderful - like the restaurant we're going to - but that's different than sharing your life with someone who doesn't have magic. Having one foot in each world is hard to balance."
Being a half-blood, Megan never put much thought into the difficulties of a magical/non-magical romance. "I see."
"So I was reading the paper, and I saw your ad, and- I don't know. Thought it might be time to try to make it work with a witch."
That wasn't particularly romantic, but then she'd paid to have a "Witch Seeking Wizard" personal published in the newspaper, so who was she to talk? "Oh, okay."
"Tell me about your parents. I assume you're not a pureblood, since you're going out with me."
"My mother was a muggleborn, but she died when I was young. My father died before that, so I went to live with his sister."
"So you never lived on the muggle side?" He sounded disappointed. Megan never thought she'd run into problems with her lineage from a muggleborn!
"No, I didn't."
"Ah. Well, here we are." The restaurant was dimly lit, and it seemed romantic. 'Point for Ben!' she thought, as he held the door open for her to enter.
The maitre'd led them to their table, dropping off menus and filling their water glasses. She fumbled for something to say and came up with nothing, choosing instead to bury her face in the menu. It was a jumble of vowels and apostrophes. A French restaurant?
A waiter approached. "Good evening. Are you ready to order?"
Ben raised his eyebrows at her, and she shook her head. "We need another moment, please." The waiter gave a crisp nod and walked away. "What looks good to you?"
Her stress started to mount. "Um, this seems interesting," she offered, turning her menu and pointing to an item.
His squint worsened. 'Would Ben look good with glasses?' she wondered. She always thought glasses made people look intelligent. "Sorry, the lighting's not very good. Can you tell me which one you're pointing at?"
"Um. It's this one, right here," she tried again, moving her menu closer.
Some of her discomfort must have bled over, because he took on a pinched expression. "Is that the third or fourth one from the top?" Was she imagining a hint of patronisation in his voice?
This was humiliating. Memories from Hogwarts began to bubble up in her mind despite her best efforts to squash them. "The fourth," she said, waiting expectantly while he looked at his own menu.
"A bold choice," he said with a hesitant smile, dashing any hope of him reading it out for her. "Ah, here's our waiter."
"Are we all set to order?"
"Yes, I'll take the cassoulet, please." He read that off with a flourish. Did- did he speak French? Did he think she did? Her nerves were going haywire, and she squeezed the menu tighter.
"And for madamsoille?
"I- I'll have, ah…" Megan took a deep breath. This wasn't Hogwarts, he didn't know anything about her, she didn't need to worry like this! "I'll have the mooless frights, please."
"Do you mean the moules-frites?"
Her eyes were burning, tears prickling at her eyelids. "Yes, please," she whispered, passing over the menu and keeping her eyes locked on the finely embroidered tablecloth. She couldn't bear to look at Ben's expression. "I'm really sorry."
"Hey, it's okay," he said. "Reading French isn't easy." He sounded sincere, but it was too late.
'You don't know how to write? How old are you?'
'Get a load of Jones' homework! She spelled "magic" with a "J"!'
'Miss Jones, if your marks don't improve, we may have to hold you back a year…'
What must he think of her? What was he thinking right now? Probably the same things everyone else did, the same things she'd heard her whole life. Simple. Slow. Stupid.
"Excuse me, I need- I have to go to the bathroom," she mumbled, standing up and hurriedly blinking away her tears.
"Megan, it's alright, really-"
But she ignored him, walking as carefully as she could through blurry vision, apparating away the moment the door closed behind her.
Naturally, work the next day was awful, just like every day following a game. Even though the Harpies beat the Wimbourne Wasps by a full two hundred and ten points, the players were foul-mouthed and short-tempered.
Ginny was seated on the bench today, her knee relegated to a lower priority for once. She'd complained about a stiffness in her throwing arm, so Megan was rotating the joint to try and identify the issue. "Does this hurt?"
"I don't know," she snapped, then used her free hand to rub her temples. "Sorry. I'm just-"
"Cranky after games, I know. When did it start hurting?"
"I guess when I woke up yesterday morning."
Megan released her arm and stepped over the bench to look the younger woman in the face. "Did you report the injury to the League healers for the pregame examination?"
Ginny glanced up. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes - obviously she'd taken her share of potions the night before. "Yea, yea I did."
"Okay. Let's get you on the table, it's probably just a simple muscle strain." She shot a significant look to Brynne, who was working on Gwenog's chronic shoulder issue, receiving a perfunctory nod in reply. "A massage will help work some of the kinks out."
While she kneaded and rolled Ginny's flesh beneath her fingers, Megan's mind wandered to the previous night's date. What a spectacular failure. How was she going to summon the courage to go out again?
She'd thought Bentley was a good match, on paper, at least. He was older, more established, which meant he was probably ready to settle down. Most of her peers either got engaged right after the war's end, like Neville and Hannah, or went wild with casual relationships like Seamus Finnegan or Lisa Turpin. There weren't many eligible wizards her age interested in a commitment right now, so she'd had high hopes in meeting someone older.
With more distance from the actual event, Megan felt horribly guilty for fleeing the date in the manner she had. When she woke up this morning, she'd considered sending an owl to apologise, but what could she tell him? Certainly not the truth.
While she worked Ginny's muscles on the massage table, her eyes drifted over to Gwenog. When she was forced to take custody of her newly orphaned niece, Gwenog was fresh out of Hogwarts, eager to enjoy the fruits of her newfound fame. Caring for a frightened four-year-old orphan didn't hold much appeal. Megan's earliest memories were filled with finding ways to entertain herself in this very stadium while her aunt flew in the skies above.
Practise days weren't so bad. The ground crew always had a kind word for her, and Brynne would occasionally bring in toys for her that her own son had outgrown to play with on the sideline. But then there were the games, nights spent by herself in Gweong's flat, hiding under her bed frightened and alone.
It's true, she never went hungry, and she always had new clothes and toys at her aunt's flat. But by the time Megan was eight, Gwenog had qualified for the national team, so the offseason was spent traveling for international exhibition games. To a little girl like Megan, who'd known nothing different, she imagined her life was probably the same as other children her age.
It wasn't until she met Hestia that Megan realised she was different. That other kids went to school, or had lessons; that there were things she should know but didn't.
That was the first time she'd heard it, but not the last. "She's just a little slow." It couldn't be Gwenog's fault, no! Didn't she have a bookshelf filled with primers and stories? Had she ever asked her aunt for help? It was Megan's fault, her responsibility to learn to read, her fault that by the time she tried to learn, the letters got all jumbled and-
"Gods, take it easy, will you? You're going to rip the muscle out from under my skin!"
Megan took a long, slow breath, shaking her hands to release the angry tension that had her digging into Ginny's flesh. "I'm sorry, I was- I just… sort of lost focus." Ginny raised herself off the table with one arm and looked at Megan, then lay back down without another word and waited for her to resume the massage.
There was no point in getting upset again. That was- the past was over and done with. And yea, the other students weren't always kind when she was at Hogwarts, but Megan had made it through, hadn't she?
She pursed her lips and looked over at Gwenog's prone form once more. Yes, Megan had made it through school, with the help of tutors like Patricia. But maybe… maybe if she'd been better at reading and writing, she might have scored well enough to get an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's. She might have had the confidence to talk to a boy without worrying his friends would tease him for making eyes at the daft plonker. She might have been like everyone else, instead of what she was.
Inferior.
Ginny let out a quiet sigh as Megan worked out a knot in her muscles, refocusing her attention on the rookie chaser. For some reason, thinking about her own childhood while working on Ginny brought Teddy's cherubic face to the forefront of her mind. Three years old, just a year younger than she'd been when she was thrust into the care of a professional athlete that had no time or desire to raise her. To love her.
'Don't,' she warned herself. It wasn't any of her business. And besides, Teddy had Andromeda, didn't he? She said herself she'd retired to take care of him. Andromeda would never let Teddy want for attention.
'But she wants Harry to take on a bigger role in Teddy's life'
It's just because you had a horrible date last night, she told herself. That's the only reason you're thinking about Harry Potter and his godson. But, try as she might, she couldn't stop picturing Teddy, bouncing back and forth in front of his godfather with his arms raised. Desperate to be held, to be loved.
Her hands, still on Ginny's back, slowed and eventually went motionless. "We done?" she asked.
"Does Ha-" Megan paused, licked her dry lips and tried again. "Does Harry ever read to Teddy?"
She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. Ginny's whole body tensed, the muscles Megan had put so much effort into unwinding flexing and tensing beneath her hands. "What did you say?"
"I-It was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing! WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Ginny roared, pushing up off the table and swinging her legs to the floor.
"What's going on?" Brynne was quick to rush over and insert herself between Megan and the furious rookie. "Settle down Weasley!"
"You've been seeing my boyfriend behind my back?" Ginny shouted, pushing Brynne's hands away, her own arms outstretched for Megan. "You're trying to take Harry away from me?!"
"No!" Megan tried to protest, but by now the attention of the entire locker room was on them. "I just- I met his godson and I talked to-"
Ginny let out an incomprehensible scream of rage, bulling past Brynne and tackling her to the floor. Mercifully, the third trainer working that day, Annie Ledsome, was quick with her wand and immobilised the furious chaser before she could do any real damage.
"Megan, get out of here," Brynne said, wincing as she picked herself up off the floor. "Annie, let her go."
"Are you sure?"
"This is already enough of a disaster, we don't need to deal with trainers casting spells at players."
Megan ran out of the locker room and sat, just inside the pitch, with her head between her knees. Just a few minutes passed before Brynne found her, taking a seat next to her. "Okay, what's going on? Is there any truth to what Weasley's in there screaming about?"
"Well," she hedged, "What's she saying?"
Brynne closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh Meggie."
"What?"
"The fact you even asked that is a problem. What are you doing running around with players' boyfriends?"
Megan felt her face heat up. "I'm not, not like that! I just- I saw him last week. He was at St. Mungo's, and…" And she'd spent half the time there mooning over him. But it's not like she did anything wrong!
Brynne Sealey had always been there for Megan. She'd seen the way the Harpies' star player had raised Megan, and she'd always tried to watch out for her. It was Brynne that got her the job she had now, that had stepped in to give her a career after she left Hogwarts with almost no opportunities. But Megan had never seen the look Brynne wore now, as she brushed the bangs out of her eyes.
"Weasley's trying to get you sacked. Says it's her or you, that she won't play if you're not gone."
"What? But- I haven't done anything!"
"Listen, why don't you head home for the day? We both know it's probably the withdrawal from the potions talking. Weasley's been hitting them hard, a lot of rookies get in trouble that way. Maybe she'll go home and talk to her boyfriend, and come in tomorrow and see this was all a big misunderstanding."
"Brynne, I- I really didn't, I swear!" Megan felt her eyes well up. Yea, she didn't like her job, but the gold was good, and she had nowhere else to go!
"It'll be okay. You know I'm on your side. Just go home, okay?"
Megan bit her lip and nodded. It would be okay. It had to be.
A/N: Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles