It shouldn't be so sunny, Megan thought, staring out her window. It should be pouring rain, chock full of thunder and lightning, not an idyllic day perfect for a picnic. She felt like even the weather was conspiring against her.
She raised her arm, turning her wrist to check her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. One hour to go. Brynne sent an owl the night before telling her a meeting was scheduled with the owner today to discuss yesterday's incident. Though the letter didn't say so outright, Megan could read between the lines.
Today, she would lose her job.
Brynne was waiting for her when she Floo-ed to the stadium, wrapping an arm around her as they walked in silence towards the owner's office. Brynne gestured for her to go in alone, leaning against the wall near the door. Waiting inside was the owner, Mr. Barker (in all her years here, Megan had never learned his first name), Gwenog, and a man in officious robes that practically screamed 'Solicitor!'
"Take a seat, won't you?" Megan dutifully sat down in the only empty chair. "You've put us in a difficult position following yesterday's, er, incident."
"It's not that difficult," Gwenog cut in. "Ginny's averaging seven goals a match!"
Any hopes she had were dashed at Gwenog's interjection. Megan fixed her eyes on the massive, wall-to-wall window behind the owner's desk. Such a beautiful day, nary a cloud in sight.
Mr. Barker coughed into his hand. "Be that as it may, you've been a valuable part of the Harpies' organisation for several years now. I know this isn't the way you wanted your time with the team to come to an end, and believe me when I say everyone here feels the same way."
"Okay," Megan replied.
The solicitor took over, withdrawing an envelope from his robes and passing it over to her. "We've upped your severance to two month's salary, provided you submit to a nondisclosure agreement. No reason to air dirty laundry in the press, after all, don't you agree?"
Megan nodded, choosing to ignore Gwenog's snort.
"I'd like you to take this, as well," Mr. Barker said, sliding an envelope of his own across his desk. "It's a letter of recommendation. Brynne's done nothing but sing your praises since you were hired; I can't think of a team in the League that wouldn't benefit from bringing you on board."
She picked up both envelopes. Her throat tightened. "Thank you."
"Take care, Megan."
She walked back out of the office in a daze. The moment the door closed behind her, Brynne was there to embrace her. "Are you alright?"
"I- I don't know," she answered honestly.
"It's going to work out, you'll see."
At that moment, it was hard to imagine how that could be. This was the only job she'd ever had; Holyhead was, for better or worse, all she knew. Megan couldn't help it, she started crying, right there in the corridor.
The door opened, and Gwenog stepped out and then came to a halt, seeing the two of them just outside the office. Megan wiped her eyes and tried to catch her gaze, but the world-famous beater simply side-stepped the two of them and continued on her way.
"Don't you even care? Meggie's all the family you've got left, and you couldn't even stand up for her?" Gwenog paused, and Brynne went on, her voice rising as she did. "You know she's not that kind of person, and you still side with the rookie over your own niece?"
Through her tears, Megan heard her resume her walk away from them, but Gwenog's parting remark nonetheless carried through as if she were still standing next to them. "I figured she was just trying to follow in her dear Mummy's footsteps, after all."
A week passed, listless days feeling sorry for herself interspersed with nights at the Dusty Dragon. Her letter of recommendation got her in the door with several different teams, but the result was what she always knew - the few openings teams had at this late stage of the season were immediately filled by experienced candidates who'd been waiting ages for the opportunity.
Megan clutched at the store-bought bouquet of daisies she held, shivering as a gust of wind passed right through her jumper and skirt. Of course, now the October weather was true to form, on the first day she'd ventured into the outdoors.
She made her way through the neat rows of granite and marble, treading carefully along the gravel path and avoiding the grass that still, despite the season, was vibrant and green. Even though it had been months since she'd last visited, she hardly paid attention on the walk. She'd long since memorised where she was going.
Only, to her surprise when she arrived, an elegant arrangement of flowers was perched on the tombstone. Beautiful calla lilies as pure as snow, with babies breath filling in the bouquet. Megan blinked at this unexpected discovery. As far as she knew, the person she came to visit had no surviving relatives. So who would take the time, on a truly miserable day at that, to drop off fresh flowers at a strangers' gravesite?
She compared the daisies she'd bought, wrapped in thin parchment and sealed with sell-o-tape, with the flowers that looked professionally arranged, tied together with a thin, shiny ribbon. Eventually, she decided there was no point in feeling inadequate. Hestia wouldn't have minded, she was sure. Smoothing out her skirt, Megan took a seat in the grass in front of her grave marker and began to talk.
She'd barely started her retelling of losing her job when an excited voice called her name. "MAY-GUN! MAY-GUN!"
So surprised, she hardly reacted as Teddy came flying from between grave markers, pausing only briefly in front of her before plopping down directly into her lap. "Can I have a lolli?"
She nodded, still struck dumb at his sudden appearance, and silently reached into her purse to withdraw the requested candy, unwrapping it and handing it over to the little boy's immense satisfaction. The two of them sat together for a few moments, and then she heard another voice. One that caused a shiver entirely unrelated to the cold to ripple through her.
"I've found him, Andi, he's over here!" Harry called out, jogging along the path towards them. "Teddy, I told you to stay close!"
Rather than reply, he burrowed deeper into Megan's jumper. "It's alright," she said, "He's been with me the whole time."
Harry set down the box he was holding and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "That's beside the point, he-" Seeing the way Teddy was quiet and avoiding his eyes, Harry bit off his lecture. "Thank you for keeping an eye on him."
Megan nodded. From her position on the ground, her eyes slowly worked their way up his body, starting at his tight jeans, up past the black peacoat, to the hint of stubble on his chin, and coming to a halt at his eyes. Eyes staring right back at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
"I got a lolli," Teddy said, amidst the tension running amok, perhaps in justification of his escape.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, immediately wishing she could take back the words as soon as she said them - 'As though it weren't entirely obvious what they were doing here!'
"We come every month, for Teddy to see his parents." He glanced down at the addition Megan left on Hestia's grave, then back to her. "Oh! I don't know why I never made the connection. Was Hestia your… were you related?"
How many times did she wish that were the case? 'Pretty much from the first moment I met her' Megan thought ruefully. "No. Just a, uh, a friend."
"I didn't think the ages really matched up, but y'know - same last name and all, couldn't be sure."
"You knew her?" Megan belatedly put together the empty box he'd set down and the arrangement on Hestia's grave - an arrangement that, if she strained her neck, she could see mirrored on a few other markers here and there. "You left these? Why?"
He pushed the box to the side and kneeled down in the grass next to her. "I met her briefly, during the war. She was part of the Order, the resistance against- well, I'm sure you already know about that."
"I don't, actually."
Andromeda arrived then, a dark cloak thrown over her robes to combat the wind. "Megan! How lovely to see you. It seems we all picked an inopportune day to visit our loved ones. Would you like to join us for a cup of something warm?"
Megan looked back at the grave marker, just in time to see a single petal on one of the daisies wavering back and forth, before being captured and swept away by the wind. "I think I'd like that."
"That must have been terribly difficult." Andromeda's hand started to tremble as she placed the cup back in the saucer, but only just. "Have you thought about what you'll do next?"
Megan sat on the loveseat with a borrowed cashmere shawl draped over her shoulders and a steaming mug of tea in her hands. Rather than reply right away, she leaned back and quietly observed the room around her.
Harry's house was pretty much in line with what she expected. Modern, high-end furnishings, the most advanced charms and runes, clean and orderly. Like the kind of place she'd see in the magazines she and her roommates used to read. Impeccably sterile. A nice house, but not much of a home.
As if to emphasize that speculation, a loud clang and corresponding splatter filtered in from the kitchen, followed by a "Sorry, daddy," right after.
"I don't really have a plan right now," she eventually said.
"And what about money? Are you doing okay?"
Her concern sounded genuine. "I have some savings," Megan said with a warm smile. "How do you think lunch is coming?" Tea had soon evolved into an invitation for a late lunch, which Teddy and Harry were presently preparing.
Andromeda cast a fond look towards the kitchen. "I've no doubt it will be smashing."
Megan giggled into her tea. With a bachelor and a toddler cooking? A can of chicken soup would be an accomplishment. "Thank you again for inviting me."
"Of course, think nothing of it," Andromeda said, waving her hand as if to shoo away her thanks. "You told me before you wanted to be a healer. Have you spoken with St. Mungo's?"
Her smile dropped. "No. Why would I do that? I'm not a healer."
Andromeda reached for her teacup and took a sip before replying. "You could be."
"No, I already told you-"
"You were fresh out of Hogwarts, and you said your marks weren't stellar. That was then. Now, you're an experienced sports trainer with several years experience, and a letter of recommendation from your employer. You're a completely different applicant, so why wouldn't their decision also be different?"
She didn't know how to respond to that, instead gaping in the face of Andromeda's cool and logical explanation. Could she- was it possible? She imagined herself in the lilac robes of a healer and smiled. What did she have to lose, after all?
Nothing. Just an empty flat and a stack of letters from the Prophet. Her smile faded. "Maybe I will apply."
"Okay! Come get it while it's hot!"
Megan hopped up, collecting her cup and saucer, then moved to take Andromeda's. She watched, concerned as the older woman used both armrests to stand from her seat. "When was the last time you had a check-up?"
"I had a touch of ague recently and it's lingering, that's all. Don't trouble yourself over me."
Ague was an unpleasant, but relatively common wizarding illness, and Andromeda wasn't that old for it to be a major concern. "I see. Well, don't push yourself too hard."
"Let's go find out what the boys came up with."
They took a seat at the dining room table, just in time for Harry to bring in a stack of empty bowls and a pan of noodles, Teddy trailing behind him with a basket of sliced bread. Megan helped Teddy into his booster seat while Harry ladled out portions. "May we present penne aglio e olio. Dig in!"
Megan looked down at the pasta in her bowl. It looked like, well, a real meal. She took a peek around the table, seeing Teddy and Harry both watching her expectantly, waiting for her to take her first bite.
It was divine. The pepper seasoning had a touch of citrus that exploded on her taste buds, and Megan closed her eyes and let out a moan of delight before leaning over to the little boy next to her. "You did such a great job, Teddy! This is wonderful!" Straightening her posture, she looked over Teddy's head to tell Harry the same thing, but the words died on her lips.
He was flushed, a dusting of colour on his cheeks, bottom lip held between his teeth. His eyes, which had been aimlessly directed straight ahead, flicked over to meet her gaze for a brief instant before he cleared his throat and picked up his own fork, consciously avoiding her eyes.
Megan had never been so physically aware of a man in her entire life as she was of Harry Potter. Innocuous, simple things, movements and actions that had no business being noticeable by anyone else were incredibly sensual when he did them. Her attraction to Harry was as frustrating as it was uncontrollable.
But she realised, in that instant their eyes met, she had the same effect on him. That discovery sent a fresh surge of desire coursing through her.
Oh, Merlin. She had to get out of here.
The next Sunday, when she went to visit St. Mungo's, Megan asked Patricia for the application forms for healer training. She took them home and diligently filled them out, writing slowly so her script would be painstakingly neat, then returned them the next morning, full of hope and expectation.
That was four days ago. Just four days; it was entirely unsurprising she hadn't heard back. And with it being a Friday, she at least could legitimately tell herself to stop thinking about it for the weekend. Anyway, there were other issues to deal with in the here and now.
She twisted one way and then the other, stooping and turning to try and get as much a sense of how she looked as possible. Why in heaven's name didn't she own a full-length mirror? What sort of woman puts on her outfit in a bathroom, especially one as small as her own?
Megan wore a dark blue, off-the-shoulder bardot dress that sat right at her knees, completed with a pair of two-inch black heels. Was it too revealing? The dress cinched under her bustline, before relaxing around her waist to flow more loosely around her figure. A good way to disguise her belly and hips, yes, but how many inches of cleavage were appropriate at a wedding?
She looked fine. Nothing to worry about, she thought in self-reassurance, opening up her makeup bag to prepare her cosmetics. Besides, didn't singles always dress to impress at a wedding? Maybe instead of the forgotten stack of replies from the Prophet, she'd meet her future husband at Neville and Hannah's nuptials. It was a perfectly valid reason not to bring a date!
Except…
She pursed her lips, then held up a piece of tissue to blot her lipstick. Her mascara and eyeliner application was modest, and thankfully she didn't need to bother with any foundation or blush (this week, at least).
With her purse over her shoulder and a shawl wrapped around her to shield from the chill, Megan set off for the Dusty Dragon. Garth made all the appropriate noises, and even called out his wife to compliment her appearance. Their effusive praise provided courage enough to step through the Floo to Longbottom Manor.
"Meg! How are you, lass?" Her old Housemate, Ernie MacMillan was standing with a dark-skinned man she vaguely remembered from school, both of them in black and white dress robes. "I must say, you look stunning!"
"Hi, Ernie," she said, with a genuine smile to go along with her greeting. It really was nice to see him. Ernie, pompous and ostentatious as ever, was still as sweet as he was at Hogwarts. "It's great to see you again."
He grinned and extended his arm. "Shall I escort you to the greenhouse?"
"You may. Lead on, good sir!" They started their walk from the parlour in companionable silence through the manor before Megan spoke up again. "So you're an usher?"
"Yep! Not a bad gig, if I do say so myself. At least, definitely not the worst job I've had."
"That's hard to believe," she teased. The Macmillans were a rather well-to-do family, after all.
"Hey, you haven't seen the spread they've got laid out. Trust me, I'm well-compensated."
Megan opened her mouth to continue their relaxed banter as they reached the entrance hall, but swallowed the words when she caught sight of who was leaning against the wall near the door. Whereas Ernie's dress robes were of the standard black and white design, Harry's were obviously customised for the ceremony, with scarlet where there'd normally be white. The black and red complimented his dark hair rather effectively, giving him a rakish appearance, like he'd stepped off the cover of a romance novel.
How fitting, she thought to herself, given that from the moment her eyes fell on him she'd imagined him ripping her bodice off.
Thankfully, her ever-loquacious escort had no problem taking care of the greeting. "Harry old chap! You're looking sharp."
"Thanks, I appreciate that. I thought I'd lend a hand - well, an arm, anyway, and take over for you. Don't want you and Dean getting overwhelmed with arrivals."
"That's quite a demotion for the best man!" Ernie laughed. "Would've figured you'd be with the rest of the bridal party."
"You know me, anything to help out a mate." He extended his arm to her. "All set, Miss Jones?"
She hesitated, but only for a single heartbeat. "Of course. I'll save you a dance, Ernie."
"I'll hold you to that!" And just like that, she was alone with Harry.
"You look lovely," he murmured as they stepped outside, beginning the walk to the greenhouses.
"Thank you. You look rather fetching, as well."
"No date?"
"Not today, no." Who was she kidding? She knew Harry was Neville's best man, Hannah had told her so when Megan confirmed she'd be attending. Wasn't that the real reason she'd made no effort to bring someone?
Harry made a noncommittal noise. "Andi wanted me to ask if you've heard anything from St. Mungo's. Did you apply for a job there?"
"To the healer apprentice program, and no. No news as of yet."
"I see. I hope you hear something soon."
They were within sight of the greenhouse now. "Did you bring- is, uh, Ginny here?"
He held the door open for her, his eyes roaming over her as she stepped inside and removed her shawl. "She couldn't make it. Holyhead's last match of the season."
Was that good, or bad? On the one hand, she wasn't eager to encounter the mercurial young chaser in front of everyone they knew from school, but on the other…
Harry reached out and tugged lightly on her hand. "If you're going to dance with Macmillan, perhaps we might share one as well."
And right there was the problem. Was it the physical contact that left her pulse pounding in her ears, or the way his gaze dipped down to her breasts, paused at her lips, and then meandered its way back to her eyes? Regardless of the reason, she could feel the way her body responded to him, and she was positive he could see it.
"O-of course. Sure." After she gave her assent, he mercifully released her and disappeared back out the door they'd come.
Megan slung the shawl over her shoulders before turning to find a seat. No reason to advertise to everyone in attendance what Harry did to her, and in this dress it was hard to hide.
Guests began to file in, and although she waved and said hello to old friends and classmates, Megan stayed in her seat, pensive and focused. This was a stupid, dangerous game she was playing. He was a quidditch player, he had a girlfriend. Harry Potter was nothing at all like the sort of man she needed.
So why was he the man she wanted with a hunger she'd never experienced before?
Gentle music filled the greenhouse, and Megan shook herself out of her thoughts. The wedding was beginning, the union of her friends a perfect opportunity to remember a good life was about more than satisfying base urges.
As it turned out, her plan worked. Neville and Hannah's ceremony was beautiful, heartfelt, and the love and happiness they showed was practically blinding. Megan was so proud of her old roommate, so excited to share in the joy of the moment.
Watching the two of them share their first dance cemented her earlier affirmations. This was what she was after. Something real, something tangible. Someone to build a life with.
With the reception underway, she used the time to catch up with several people she'd not seen since school. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Sophie Roper were even expecting! For the first time, Megan felt a twinge of regret at the way she'd ensconced herself in Laudffen, so far removed from her peers and her friends.
"You know," Benjamin Cadwallader, also at her table, remarked as he reached over to top off her champagne, "I'm rather surprised you haven't been ducking out to check the scores."
"I'm sorry?"
"You're still with the Harpies, aren't you? If they beat the Magpies by more than eighty points, they'll take the last semi-finals spot from the Pride of Portree. You must be excited, they haven't qualified for the postseason since before you graduated!"
Ben, who'd played seeker for Hufflepuff while they were in school, must not have lost his love for the game. "That's right! I forgot you worked for them," Heidi Macavoy said, leaning forward to join the conversation.
"I uh-, well, I'm not with the Harpies any longer," she said, taking a gulp of her champagne to mask her discomfort. "Actually, I've applied to the healer program at St. Mungo's."
"Oh," Ben said. "That's really great, I hope it works out."
"Me too."
There was a long break in the conversation after that; Megan guessed the two of them wanted to discuss the League playoffs at greater length, but weren't sure whether to do so in front of her. It was awkward, but Megan didn't know what to say to break the sudden tension.
"Excuse me for interrupting, but Megan promised me a dance."
"Of course," Ben grinned, as pleased as everyone but Megan to see Harry approach their table. "So long as you come back and let us in on Puddlemere's strategy for your first round match."
"That would hardly be sporting, now would it? Pardon us." And with that, he took Megan's champagne flute from her hand and gave her a gentle tug towards the dance floor.
She let out a quiet sigh as his off hand settled on her hip. "Thanks, you saved me from quidditch talk."
He spun her in a slow circle, the two of them weaving through other couples. "I'm sure you could hold your own in any conversation about that."
"Not really. I don't like quidditch."
She winced as he stepped on her toe. "Sorry. You must be joking, though. You worked for Holyhead for years. And unless she's another unrelated Jones, isn't Gwenog in your family?"
Her fingers involuntarily clenched on his hand and shoulder. "She's my aunt."
"See? Practically quidditch royalty."
"No." Megan felt the joy from before leaking out of her, like a deflating balloon. "I think I'd like to go back to my table."
"Wait, don't- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset!" Harry held onto her hand when she tried to walk away, then abruptly let go as several couples near them on the dance floor paused to watch raised eyebrows.
Rather than return to her table, Megan stepped outside. It was cold, but the champagne and her need for some distance from everything inside kept her warm enough. She tried to latch onto the good feelings from before, but they weren't within her grasp.
She couldn't have been gone more than ninety seconds before he followed. As absurd as it sounded in her head, she could detect his presence the moment he exited the greenhouse.
"Here." He slipped the black dress robes over her shoulders, leaving him in a red dress shirt out in the October air.
Maybe she should have apologised for causing a scene, but she didn't want to. "I don't see what's the big deal. Some people don't like gobstones, or exploding snap. It's not like everyone has to be interested in talking about quidditch."
"But most people don't turn to stone just because they aren't interested in a topic," Harry quietly observed. "Is- is it because of what happened with Ginny? Andromeda told me she had a hand in you leaving Holyhead."
'And how must that conversation have gone?' she wanted to ask. You know that nice Megan girl, your girlfriend attacked her for making eyes at you and she got sacked for it. She laughed at the absurdity. "No. I mean, that wasn't exactly the high note of my year, but…"
He didn't say anything, and they stood there for a long time. Long enough that he cast a wandless warming charm over himself. Through the glass walls, the muted sounds of the wedding reception filtered to her ears.
"Gwenog wasn't the only professional quidditch player in the family," she said, and from her peripheral vision she saw him turn his head to face her. "My dad was a seeker for the Bats. He was pretty good, there was talk about him trying out for the national team before he died."
She felt his fingers graze her elbow, but she took a step away, squeezing his robes tighter around herself, breathing in his scent. "Was it during the war? When he- when you lost him, I mean."
"No. I wasn't even born. He was- it was a stupid accident. He was diving for the snitch, and flew too close to one of the goal rings in dodging a bludger."
She could hear the wince in his voice. "He hit the rings?"
"Full on. Anyway, the sudden deceleration- his brain was bleeding. I don't know why he went back into the game, but he kept playing after an injury timeout. He dropped dead two hours after the game from an embolism."
Megan knew she sounded cold, but she'd heard the story so many times from Gwenog that she was numb to it. A rookie mistake, running into the rings at full speed. So rare it almost never happened, even at Hogwarts. But it happened to him.
On the day her mother had told him he was going to be a father. Gwenog never let her forget that.
"I'm sorry," he said when she finished. "I wish you had the chance to know him."
Megan shook her head, shrugging off his robes and passing them back. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"I wanted to listen."
A round of cheers from inside filled the silence that followed his quiet declaration, and they shared a small smile. "We should probably head back inside."
"Megan, wait. I was thinking we could- you know, since our dance ended rather suddenly, I feel a bit shortchanged."
"Is that so?"
"The way I see it, we never really got to have that dance you promised me."
"Promised? I think that's a bit of an overstatement." He drew closer, a step inside arm's length.
"Well?"
She could move away. She should, it would only take one step back for him to understand this was never going to happen.
Megan didn't move. "It's too cold."
Her breath caught as he slid his hand along her bare shoulder to the side of her neck, fingers leaving a trail of fire along her skin. A rush of warmth flooded into her core.
"Then let me warm you up," he mumbled, removing the last distance between their bodies.
He was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him.
She felt his breath on her lips, and closed her eyes and tilted her head back. And then…
Nothing.
He'd taken a step away before she even had the chance to open her eyes.
What? What happened?
"I'm sorry. I guess-" he paused to wet his lips, his darkened eyes darting to her mouth momentarily. "The champers must have gone to my head."
Megan didn't say anything. She should be relieved. Champagne kisses under the starlight outside of a wedding was a terrible idea, even with a man that wasn't wrong for her in every conceivable way.
She should be relieved. She wasn't.
"Hey mate! There you are!" This time it was Megan who stepped away, rubbing her arms again as Oliver approached. "The groom was asking for you, and Tricia thought she saw you duck out here. 'Course if I'd known you were otherwise occupied, I might've told him I couldn't find you."
Even in the darkness Megan could see his eyebrows waggling lasciviously. "I'm cold, I'm going to head back in."
Harry made no move to stop her, nor did he say a word as she slipped back inside the greenhouse. Megan said her goodbyes, made the appropriate excuses, and Floo-ed back to Laudffen, to lay awake in bed and think about what almost was.
A/N: shout out to udm17 for the dinner Harry served. He gave me the recipe!
Also, huge thank you to Luparell - you know why. I'm grateful!
This story is fun to write. It's very prototypical of the romance genre, so not a lot of shocking surprises involved, but I hope we'll all have a lot of fun and enjoy the journey. I expect it to be a little bit longer than In Living Company, so probably in the 30-35k range. We'll see, I can never give an accurate estimation of fic lengths.
OH! I almost forgot (again) - I appeared as a guest on the NauzeCast, where I sat down for an hour long interview with my good friend and beta, the man himself, Nauze. We talked about my stories, my writing style, how I started reading/writing fanfic, my inspirations, and more. It was so much fun, and I hope that - if you give it a listen - you're also entertained! It's on YouTube and Spotify.
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles