"It is the press, above all, which wages a positively fanatical and slanderous struggle."
~ By the real-life Voldemort, Mein Kampf
Chapter 59 ~ Let's Make a Deal
ECOTS
Dumbledore's funeral had been pushed back, by special request of the Minister of Magic.
Another fortnight had passed, those in quarantine released, research of the Order's initiatives well under way. Somehow that meant Kally found herself perched in a tree alongside Harry.
"I think that reporter is back."
Harry's response was a snort so derisive it was a wonder his nostrils remained intact. Kally lowered the binoculars from her eyes and frowned, shooting a concerned look his way. Years of ignoring the same look from Hermione got drawn upon, Harry easily ignoring it.
"Of course Skeeter's there," he uttered dourly. "Skip and miss a scoop? A chance to spy on Hogwarts? She'd rather get her wings yanked off one-by-one."
"Ohhh I can't wait to bust her," Tonks practically growled, snatching the binoculars from her and ignoring Harry's fantasies of murder. She'd been informed all about Skeeter's unregistered ladybug animagus form the previous night. Given she was an Auror, that it was illegal, and that – in Tonks' words – she hated that vile, nosy bag of trash's obnoxious glasses, she obviously couldn't wait to catch her in the act to bust and imprison her.
Apparently Skeeter offended her fashion principles. Kally hadn't realized that Tonks had fashion principles, given her ever-changing hair color and clashing clothes, but the idea was humorous nonetheless.
"I'm really," Harry muttered, "not looking forward to this." He shot a look down towards Remus. "You know she's going to twist whatever I say the wrong way."
"We're counting on that, Harry."
"Yeah," Tonks said gleefully, "just like were counting on her being desperate to get hired back by the Prophet. With what you plan to dangle in front of her-"
Harry grumbled.
"-the Prophet actually might."
The witch had been sacked well over a year prior and been forced to do freelance work instead. That was a key part of how they were planning to manipulate her into doing their bidding, something Hermione and Harry had managed to get her to do the year prior as well.
Harry still looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Great, so we're going to help her get her job back. Remind me why we're doing this again?"
"Political propaganda, I believe, was the reasoning," Remus said with a slight smirk.
"If you didn't like the plan," Kally hissed, plucking a twig out of Harry's hair, "why'd you agree to it?"
Harry instantly began trying to tame his hair, it a losing battle. The low growl emanating from his chest was downright distracting. "Because Hermione was right, Skeeter won't be able to resist getting dirt from the Boy-Who-Lived." Plan or not, he still looked distinctly uncomfortable.
He wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable, but if the Order was going to accomplish what they wanted, they needed the press on their side.
Kally nudged him with her shoulder ever-so-slightly. "It'll be fine, Harry."
He simply shot her a look. "The second she sees me with you," he told her, "she's going to have a field day."
She rolled her eyes in a decidedly Hermione-like fashion. "Again, it'll be fine, Harry."
Harry looked downright skeptical, his jaw working through several tense settings before finally grating, "You weren't around for the Triwizard Tournament."
Kally's golden eyes narrowed. "That was that ball you took Pavarti to, wasn't it?"
He instantly backtracked, growling, "I don't like the idea of there being a microscope on you."
"I'm a big girl, Harry. I agreed to this too, remember?" She got it. She really did. He was worried the Ministry would figure out she was a Reach, because Skeeter or someone else might spend a bit too much time researching Harry Potter's new girlfriend.
She'd also kindly pointed out that she was pretty sure, given that there was a war going on, that the press had better things to do with their time.
That'd led to Harry spending the better part of the previous night trying to awkwardly explain just how much unwanted attention he garnered from the wizarding public – something he'd never mentioned until then.
To say that she was surprised was an understatement.
Really though, she'd been more fixed on the fact that the papers and Ministry thought he'd had a string of chicks.
He'd stammered his way out of that one even more awkwardly.
Remus Lupin just scowled, directing a pointed look up and into the tree at the three of them. "I really wish," he stated with the patience of long dead saints, "you would come down from there."
Tonks shoved some leaves aside and glanced down through them. "Me, her or him?"
"All of you."
The grin Tonks shot him was mutinous. "And miss the show? No thank you." The metamorphmagus instantly held the binoculars up to her eyes, looking down towards the lake. It was just after dawn, reddish rays of light still twinkling across the Black Lake's surface, mourners gathering for Dumbledore's funeral.
Naturally this meant that reporters were staking it out like vultures, as were several Ministry of Magic officials, who were allegedly there to 'inspect the situation' to see 'how bad it had gotten under that batty old man's tutelage.'
If possible, Remus' frown deepened and Kally physically witnessed him developing new gray hairs. "You are the clumsiest Auror ever to grace the halls of the Ministry, yet you are in a tree."
Tonks, who had succeeded in sprawling herself out across a branch, using a clump of leaves as a camouflage hat, looked appalled. "You rapscallion! What does that have to do with anything?"
Remus just raised an eyebrow, his eyes looking pointedly between where she was perched and the ground.
The metamorphmagus made a scandalized sound.
The Headmaster's funeral was quite the draw for the wizarding community, and the four of them had taken up watch to see who showed up. Well, technically Harry, Remus and Tonks had taken up watch, and Kally had just found herself drug with them. Snape had made a few cryptic comments about being unable to identify all Death Eaters – something about an unbreakable vow with Voldemort preventing him from doing so - so it'd be prudent of her to go with them.
Moody had taken Snape's suggestion as full on admission that there were Death Eaters they didn't know about. He'd practically shoved her out the castle doors after Harry, ordering, "Find me a good one, girl!"
She'd gotten chills, realizing that some may have participated in the attack on her family – like Bagman had.
It was enough to make her sick.
The school grounds were presently open to the public. That meant anyone could wander onto them to pay their last respects to Dumbleodre, so long as they made it past the Aurors guarding the gates to the grounds. Precautions to check against polyjuice potion and illusion charms were in place, and still…
They trusted no one.
Now Potter sat next to her, up in a tree, getting a bird's eye view that didn't attract the same kind of attention that flying around on a broom would. His cutting green gaze was leveled out across the grounds, scrutinizing the new arrivals through the glasses Moody had given him.
"Anything Harry?" Remus questioned, tone growing far more serious.
Her boyfriend shook his head, brow creased. "Nothing."
Kally's gaze slid to the wizard sitting beside her. "Remind me again what those things let you see through?"
Harry didn't so much as glance her way. "Disillusionment, concealment, and illusion charms," he muttered distractedly. "Invisibility cloaks, shadow cloaks and your clothes."
Kally blinked.
Potter's lips twitched into a vague smirk.
She blinked again. "What?"
"Shove him off the branch, Kally," Tonks suggested casually. "I'll be your material witness. He had it coming."
Kally outright sputtered, Harry's smirk only growing. "You're joking, right?" she questioned.
"Dunno," Harry responded, glancing her way for just a second, "am I?"
She growled, wondering if Tonks' plan wasn't too off base.
"Tonks," Remus cut in, "please stop encouraging Harry's murder. He has enough people trying to kill him. And Kalliandra," he persisted, as if anticipating her thoughts, "I'm sure Harry's kidding."
Given the way he snorted, she wasn't so sure. "Well if he's not," she stated with the air of an Egyptian asp coiled to strike, "that means he's been walking around looking through other witches' clothing all morning, and thus will never see me-"
Remus made a strangled sound.
Tonks cackled.
Harry nearly fell off the branch, instantly grabbing her arm and muttering, "Don't even joke."
She just glanced down at his hand, before glancing back up. He hadn't even bothered to look at her, and was still firmly fixed on his task at hand: studying the new arrivals. Hell, his resolve was impressive.
"I think we're all," Remus stated forlornly, "getting far too comfortable around one another." He frowned. "I feel some kind of points should be docked."
"I was just going to say see me again," Kally defended.
"Yeah wolfy," Tonks chimed innocently in, "get your mind out of the gutter."
Both Remus and Harry groaned.
The mood was far lighter than a memorial service for the Order's leader ought to have been.
Dumbledore not being dead had a great deal to do with that, even if everyone else was unaware.
McGonagall and Snape had filled Remus, Tonks, and Moody in on their theory that Dumbledore was alive, not dead, and while Remus had stared with a slowly dawning look of comprehension, Tonks had taken to jumping around and letting out exuberant shouts as if she'd just won some type of prize. Mad Eye had just scoffed with derision, growling, "Well of course he's not. Wizard's harder to kill than a cockroach after a nuclear holocaust."
It made it easier for the four of them to not be upset.
Regrettably they had to look upset for the service.
Sitting there, in a tree with Harry, Kally closed her eyes. Harry's hand slowly slid down her arm, before falling away to once more rest against the bark. Getting upset…she had to look upset. The loss of contact, the way his hand had just slipped away, as it had limply when he'd lain dead…
But Harry wasn't dead. He was alive.
It took her a moment to find the memory she needed, but it was there, still present, buried near the back of her mind.
The last time she'd climbed a tree it'd been with her brother.
Sean had been dead nearly a year.
Breathing slowing, she could practically breathe in the scent of pine from that tree in their backyard. The way Sean had grinned crookedly, similar to Dean, his eyes always glinting with a golden mischief…
"You okay?"
Not bothering to open her eyes, she nodded, taking a second. "Yeah," she relayed, fingers curling tightly against the bark, "just…getting myself upset for the funeral." Sean was dead. Her nostrils began to burn, Kally sniffing and opened her eyes to find Harry looking at her with concern. She forced a wane smile. "Have to make it look realistic, right?" If they showed up to it, looking upset, it'd be more convincing.
They couldn't risk anyone finding out Dumbledore was alive, before they found him.
Harry just stared at her, Kally's brow furrowing with sudden concern. "My eyes, are they-"
He shook his head, already anticipating her question. "No. Your eyes are fine. Just a bit unnerved that you can fake cry at will." Harry drummed his fingers against the bark, dryly adding, "I'm screwed for all future arguments, aren't I?"
Remus and Tonks both simultaneously responded, "Yes!"
The four of them sat there, keeping lookout, for a little while longer. Wizards, witches, and magical creatures of all kinds turned up, but no Death Eaters. If any were there, they were disguised beyond even the Aurors' abilities and Harry's glasses to detect.
Moody had been stationed by the actual gates, so if they got to the lake, that meant they'd gotten past Mad Eye's magical eye too.
Eventually they saw other Order members heading down towards the lake, Harry snaring the binoculars from Tonks in a move so precarious that Kally actually yelled at him. "Good thing she's never seen you play Quidditch, Harry," Remus joked, Kally shooting him a glare.
"What does he do during Quidditch?"
Disturbingly Harry smirked, mumbling something about needing to take her flying. He'd already levelled the binoculars towards where Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Dean, Ron, Hannah, Justin, Susan, and the American transplants were heading down.
Whatever Harry saw looking at them up close had him grimace. "Hermione," he stated, lowering the goggles, "is going to kill me for not telling her."
"Pish posh," Tonks said, sounding frighteningly like Madame Pomfrey – she'd clearly been in quarantine too long, "she's a bright witch. She'll understand that we had to leave her upset. If we didn't, she wouldn't look realistically sad, now would she."
Harry's only response was to hook a thumb towards her, where she sat with slightly teary, bloodshot eyes, as if to say 'Hermione could have faked it.' Kally gave a fake sniff as if trying to repress a sob.
Tonks just cackled.
Eventually they made their way down to the lake's edge, joining everyone standing along its banks, Harry taking her hand firmly in his. The number of eyes that went to him Kally didn't miss.
Everyone, including the Minister of Magic, apparently knew how close Harry and Dumbledore had been.
He adopted a dead-eye stare, as if unable to process what had happened.
Hermione cried quietly throughout, Ron stoically staring straight ahead as if he had nothing left to give, Ginny burying her face against Dean's shoulder, whilst Neville gripped Luna's hand tightly. In the latter's case it looked like that was more for him then her, given Luna appeared to be humming a slightly happy song. Off to the side Hagrid gave loud, hysterical sniffles.
Every so often Harry shot guilty looks Hagrid's way, Kally just squirming a bit closer to him in silent support.
They were lying to a lot of people, but there was no other way. McGonagall had been clear: if their grieving didn't look realistic, the Ministry wouldn't buy it. Not to mention the small fact that none of them knew where Dumbledore actually was.
Throughout the ceremony Harry gripped her hand tight, knuckles white, his jaw set. Kally sniffled in all the right places, leaning against him as he drug a comforting arm around her, switching hands to grip onto Hermione's with his free one.
Somehow the memorial service passed without incident, ending surprisingly quickly. It was almost as if the Ministry officials on site didn't want a spectacle or big fuss made over the memory of Albus Dumbledore.
The Minister of Magic attempted to speak with a centaur, which resulted in a mass exodus of magical species.
The Centaurs left so quickly only dust was left in their wake as they merged back into the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. The merpeople dove back beneath the lake's mirror-like surface. The leprechauns and house elves all disappeared in puffs of smoke, the anti-apparation wards having no effect on their kind.
Hagrid and his half-brother Grawp continued to give loud, wheezing sobs.
No Death Eaters that they knew of showed up. Moody cast her and Harry several looks throughout the service, a burst of colorful flames erupting over the lake in Dumbledore's memory, but Kally could only gnaw on her lower lip, shaking her head in the negative.
There was no one she recognized here – none at all.
As soon as it was over Harry had hauled her up with him, as if eager to escape. It wasn't hard for him to fake that, given he probably was. Every reporter there had been staring at him from the moment he'd shown up, her wizard flattening his hair over his scar repeatedly, nervously. He hadn't been kidding….
Harry exchanged a quick, meaningful look with Ron and Hermione. The timing could be better, but it was their only chance.
They set off for the castle at a quick pace, it all part of the Order's plan.
That horrible Skeeter woman predictably caught up to them about a third of the way back to the castle's gates, Harry protectively tugging her a half step behind him.
"Harry, darling!" the reporter practically cooed, coming to a halt in front of them. Kally could only stare at the woman, her brow furrowing as she assessed the witch. She looked to be in her mid-forties with hair so tightly curled it appeared almost plastic, just like her smile. An air of desperation oozed off her so fiercely it was practically palpable.
Kally really wasn't sure she liked the way that plastic, gold-toothed smile was directed at Harry. Potter, however, seemed to have expected it. "Skeeter," he said tensely, making no pretenses at being pleased to have run into her.
Kally glanced back behind them, ensuring that no one else had followed. It looked like two other reporters had started to, only to see Skeeter and change their minds.
For all intents and purposes their plan was working – they were isolated, out on the grounds, with this horribly mannish woman wearing too much makeup. Ron and Hermione would follow later on.
"Now Harry dear, is that any way to greet an old friend?" she practically simpered. "After I did that favor for you and your little friend last year, I'd have thought you'd be thrilled to see me."
"I'm not," he grunted, fingers tightening between hers in a way that definitely wasn't acting, "your friend." Hermione had filled her in on the Quibbler article they'd conned Skeeter into writing the year prior, conned being the operative word.
The morning sun beat down on the three of them, the reporter fingering the top of her crocodile skin handbag. At Harry's rebuffing her plastered-on expression of false cheer fell only slightly, her hawkish eyes darting behind him to her for a second. From the brazen way the woman assessed her, Kally suddenly understood what it meant to feel 'stripped naked beneath someone's gaze.'
She shifted on her feet uncomfortably.
"Why Harry," she said, acting for all the world as if he'd just greeted her like an old friend, "who's this?" She touched her spectacles, tipping them slightly to peer down pointedly at their intertwined hands.
Kally hissed in annoyance, muttering to Harry pointedly loud enough for Skeeter to hear, "Does she always make a point to ask questions about someone as if they aren't standing right there?"
Harry snorted, his gaze remaining firm upon Skeeter. "Yes."
"Why I meant no offense, dearie," the reporter said, tapping long, black-painted fingernails on her handbag, "it's just Harry's witches do not seem to stick around very long, so I'm always curious on who a new one is. Surely he's told you about his trysts with that awful Granger girl?"
Before she had a chance to so much as growl, Harry had growled himself. "Forgetting our deal already, Skeeter? I'd hate to have to ask Hermione-"
The witch's expression darkened immediately. "Now Harry there's no need to go getting her involved again. Though…" her eyes flickered to her, "you never did answer if your new one is aware of your two's sordid past?"
This time it was Kally's turn to growl.
"What do you want, Skeeter?" Harry demanded flatly. He might want to talk to her, but part of the plan was making it look like he didn't. The last thing they needed was for her to realize they were planning to use her.
Hermione had been clear: the second Rita Skeeter knew they needed her more than she needed them, it was end game.
The middle-aged witch batted her eyes as if completely non-flummoxed. "Why I just was worried about you, Harry. You and Albus were always so close. I wanted to make sure you were handling his demise-"
"Death," he practically snarled.
"Yes of course…handling his unfortunate death alright, Harry. Perhaps you could give a few words?" The top of a pad of paper slowly peeked out of the top of her handbag, as if eager to be written upon.
Harry's jaw tensed, teeth practically grinding, something upset flashing in his gaze for a moment. Had Kally not known it was an act she might have believed it.
Then again, maybe it wasn't. "It's been rough," he finally admitted, his fingers slowly beginning to relax on hers. Kally stepped closer to him, her free hand rising to rub his arm.
Rita Skeeter ate it up, looking positively delighted. "Albus was a treasure. He will be sorely missed."
Harry scowled. "You called him an obsolete dingbat whose expiration date was long past due in that last article you sold."
For a moment she looked surprised.
"Hermione subscribes," he uttered unforgivingly, by way of explanation, "to all wizarding papers, even the international ones."
The horrible blonde waved a mannish hand dismissively. "Just writing for the masses, Harry. You and I both know those not in the know eat it up. Now I was wondering if you'd mind giving me a few words about your thoughts on the memorial and on Albus himself?" With a wave of her hand a quill levitated out of her purse, hovering daintily over the over-eager pad of paper. "If you wouldn't mind, my dear?"
Harry's eyes narrowed onto the quill. "Put. That thing. Away."
Instantly the quill disappeared, the reporter stating calmly, "I would only print precisely what you said, Harry. I do remember the provisions of our deal."
For a second Harry and Skeeter stared at one another, the latter clearly wanting something from the former, the former looking as if he were wrestling with something difficult.
Suddenly Harry glanced back towards the crowd, then back at Skeeter, as if giving in against his better nature. "Fine. Let's at least go somewhere more quiet." Seeing Skeeter's red-lipsticked mouth open to bid her adieu, Harry added, "Kally comes with us."
Her eyes practically dilated with interest. "Kally is it?" she practically purred, extending a hand to her, finally acknowledging her as a person and not an interesting beetle she'd found on the ground. "I'm Rita Skeeter, freelance report-"
"Because she got sacked," Harry offered ruthlessly.
The witch schooled her expression into one of fierce sweetness. "But you can of course," she practically hissed, "darling, call me Rita."
Reluctantly Kally reached out and shook her hand, wondering if all middle-aged witches' hands felt so leathery. "Pleasure," she muttered, not exactly meaning it.
"So," Rita purred, looking between her and Harry, "are you two an item?"
Harry's jaw set with annoyance, but he nodded. "Yeah, been together nearly a year now," he said, as if regretting sharing it with her instantly. They began walking towards the Hogwarts' courtyard, that area even more abandoned then other areas. An awkward silence descended, Rita humming happily to herself as if about to receive an early Christmas present.
Kally just wondered if the idiot knew precisely how dangerous her boyfriend actually was, because if she did she certainly wouldn't be humming quite so calmly whilst being led to a quiet, secluded area where Hermione and Ron would surely be waiting to ensure that no one could hear her screams.
"You know the only reason I'm talking to you is so that Dumbledore can be remembered properly," Harry suddenly said, the three ducking beneath one of the arches leading into the courtyard. Kally glanced around to ensure it was indeed, empty, and it was. Given the low student population it wasn't exactly a great feat to find seclusion at the castle these days. "If you print even a single derogatory word about him, or twist anything I say with that quill of yours, we'll have the proof of your unregistered animagus status published so fast you'll be in Azkaban before you can so much as print a retraction. Unemployment will be the least of your concerns."
Skeeter stopped by a stone statue depicting a child with sparks flying out of their wand, and for a moment it looked like she rather wanted to curse him. But she didn't. Instead she carefully twisted her features into a saccharine smile. "So," she clucked, "you told your little bird about that, did you?"
"Kally and I," he stated bluntly, "don't have secrets." Looking at her with hard emphasis, he added, "Any secrets. But don't worry, she won't say anything so long as you keep your quill to yourself when it comes to writing lies about me or my life." With that Harry squeezed her hand, his fingers slipping out from between hers, the Gryffindor Seeker adding, "Lucky for you I have a proposition for you."
A blonde eyebrow shot impossibly high on the woman's large forehead. "Oh? Now you're beginning to sound like that little friend of yours."
"Good," he uttered humorlessly. "Given Hermione's a genius, I could probably do with sounding a bit more like her."
Rita's eyes darted to her. "And how do you feel about that sweetheart? Knowing how much your boyfriend idolizes another witch? Surely that must feel terrible?"
Keeping with the plan, Kally's lips twitched with irritation. "I'd be seriously worried about him if he didn't acknowledge how smart Hermione was," she clipped back.
"Ah, but surely you must feel threatened by-"
"Kally has no reason," Harry snapped, "to be threatened, seeing as she's the one I'm in love with. Not Hermione."
The reporter's lips practically curled in on themselves. "Love? My, my Harry, bandying about such impressive words. Are you sure-"
"Last time I checked," Kally interrupted acidly, "he wasn't snogging or sleeping with her." Bating Skeeter with a juicy morsel had shockingly been Moody's idea.
Skeeter took the bait. Her eyes went so wide they practically bulged out of her head. "So you're saying-"
"She's saying," Harry cut her off remorselessly, "that we're interested in playing 'let's make a deal' with you. We have some information we'd like to see printed. You print that, we'll give you some sordid details about my love life and let you print it without fear of us using your animagus form against you. I seem to recall you gravitated towards gossip articles. But," Harry added, holding up a finger, "you have to write exactly what we ask, Hermione approves the final article, and you only get to print two articles about me. One to sell, and a second to get your job at the Prophet back. Question is, do you think you can sell the one we want to the Prophet given the climate?"
For a brief second the witch looked taken aback.
The look of surprise disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Why Harry, I'd have to see what you wanted published first," she said, batting her eyes. She was hard pressed to hide the carnal look of excitement in it.
"Fine," he said without humor, "but there's one more thing we have to do before telling you that." Pausing, he added, "It's…juicy." Using the word Hermione had suggested, he looked extremely uncomfortable.
Rita inclined an eyebrow. Out of the corner of her eye, Kally saw disillusioned movement, Hermione and Ron having begun to inconspicuously cast charms around the courtyard, outside of Skeeters view.
Kally nudged the toe of her shoe in the ground, the signal that Harry was free to talk. The privacy and silencing charms were in place, and Harry smiled like a viper.
"You need to agree to an unbreakable vow to never reveal your source. If you're ever interrogated or questioned by the Ministry, you can say you're under an unbreakable vow. That ought to protect you from civil repercussions given we both know the Ministry doesn't give a damn about freedom of the press."
At that Harry crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against one of the stone pillars, looking for all the world like he wasn't proposing something insane.
Kally's eyes flickered over him with a smile, not missing the way the corner of his mouth twitched. Skeeter, on the other hand, looked like she couldn't quite settle on one expression.
On one hand, she clearly wanted the scoop. Anything that would get her job back at the Daily Prophet, launching her back into her former attention-grabbing-front-headlines-fame was appealing, but she was smart enough to know that anything that required an unbreakable vow would carry an inherent amount of risk.
The witch tilted her head, eyeing Harry curiously. "Why offer me a scoop, Harry, hrmm? Why not just do what your little friend did last year and extort it out of me?"
Harry met her gaze humorlessly. "You deserved that. But I'm not the sort to keep holding something over someone's head to extort whatever I want out of them. I'm not Voldemort."
Kally did not miss the way Rita flinched at the name.
"Plus," he told, "you're far too manipulative for that to work a second time. You'd find a way around it."
At that, Rita offered a sinister smile.
Harry didn't so much as bat an eye. "Though if you cross us, don't think for a second we won't drop a little hint to the Aurors, complete with a long list of the laws you've broken."
Skeeter seemed to be thinking it over, a long nail tapping her upper lip as she made hrmming sounds.
Ultimately she decided she apparently didn't care, the witch finally smiling sinisterly. "My, my Harry. You have become intriguing. I agree to your terms. So…when would we do this…" her eyes flickered to her, looking her up and down as if appraising a prized animal for its publishable worth, "vow?"
Harry met her gaze without humor. "How's now work for you?"
There was blurred movement directly behind Skeeter, a bag tossed over her head followed by a vicious red flash that sent the reporter crumbling to the ground.
Hermione suddenly appeared, the bushy haired witch walked over, nudging the reporter disgustedly with a toe. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," she said.
A disillusioned Ron suddenly appeared, snatching Rita off the ground as if she weighed no more than a three foot long scroll. "Probably as long as I've wanted to," he grunted.
"What's with the bag?" Kally asked.
Ron smirked. "Seemed like the kind of thing that a scummy reporter would have happen at some point. Improvised."
Hermione just rolled her eyes and huffed, disillusioning Ron and Skeeter with a quick flick of her wand.
After that, getting Skeeter into the castle unseen was no issue, nor was enervating her within McGonagall's private chambers.
The rest of it didn't take long.
The vow was done between Harry and Skeeter, with Hermione overseeing. The fewer people Skeeter saw and could confirm were in the actual Order, the better. They'd also all agreed that if she only saw students she'd be less likely to take it as seriously.
That was okay though. They needed her to start a rumor, nothing more.
They still needed the vow to protect their identities, even if they'd be fairly easy for the Death Eaters to guess at.
As soon as it was completed Harry wasted no time in shoving a fist into his pocket, unearthing a crushed up paper that Hermione had written the bullet points on. Skeeter's eyes flickered beadily over the paper like the beetle she was.
Not once did Harry relax. He remained guarded, half-facing the door and half-facing Skeeter, as if expecting attack from either direction.
For the hundredth time Kally debated why in the hell she'd agreed to any of this; an exchange of details about her and Harry to ensure a smooth publication for the Order. Hermione had looked rather hesitant even suggesting it, it having been her idea in the first place.
At first they'd honestly tried to figure out a way to get someone from the Daily Prophet to print what they'd wanted without exchanging a thing, but anti-Ministry things were unpopular. It'd require someone with serious clout to draw that kind of attention.
They'd quickly realized that handing the story of a resistance group to some no-name reporter would never work.
But Skeeter?
Not only did Hermione still had leverage on her, but thanks to her publication last year she had somehow become known as the freelance reporter with the most inside information on the war.
Sadly Skeeter didn't care about the war. She cared about one thing, and one thing only: Gossip.
So Kally had agreed, Harry eyeing her nervously the entire discussion. He's been so hesitant with her that she'd had to threaten to hex him to get him to start acting normal again.
Now here they stood.
Rita looked up from Hermione's bullet points at the four of them with rapt interest. "My, my," she practically cooed, "Harry you have been busy."
Harry grunted from the position he'd taken up, leaning against a wall. "You know how it is," he drawled, "when there are Dark Lords that need killing. No rest for the chosen, and all."
Hermione rolled her eyes at his chosen one reference, but Rita's lips turned in an almost sinister smile, the quick notes quill flying out of her purse. "Consider it done, Harry. Now…about those sordid details you promised me…" Her eyes flickered greedily between Harry and her, Kally closing her eyes and already regretting this.
Harry, however, clearly wasn't. "Feel free to embellish," he permitted Skeeter. "I imagine it'll help it sell better."
Kally cracked her gaze and shot him an annoyed look, Harry merely shrugging, a roguish grin on his face. "What?" he questioned innocently. "Publishing that you're taken and mine doesn't exactly put me in a bad mood, Kaylens."
He was really lucky she was in love with him, otherwise she'd have found some way to hex him then and there.
"You can start," he told Skeeter, both Ron and Hermione inconspicuously exiting the room, "by publishing that I'm head over heels in love with the witch, and we're thinking of naming our first kid after Tom, seeing as how ole Riddle and I are so close, and all. Really, it's thanks to him that we met."
Kally about choked, Harry just shooting her a smirk.
Merlin he was incorrigible.
The press, however, was his.
ECOTS
The mood at Hogwarts was unbelievably somber the next two days. By the third day, it'd started to get back to normal. Or at least, people had started actually talking again.
Harry had at least filled Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny in on the fact that they didn't think Dumbledore was actually dead. They'd kept Dean out of it; the less he knew, the more protected he'd be, they still had no idea what was going on with him and Snape.
Hermione's reaction to the news, and to the fact that Harry had purposely lied and let them all think the Headmaster was actually dead so they'd cry more realistically at the memorial service had been amusing.
She'd calmly asked Luna, who was closer to Harry, to slap him.
Luna had done so with gusto, before politely apologizing and perching herself atop a desk in the Room of Requirement, where they'd had the conversation.
Now they were all at lunch. Ron shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth, speaking around it. "Phows phat arphicle coming, Loofa?"
Hermione scowled, a quick wave of her wand scourgifying away the crumb remnants. "Is it possible," she said with a suffering sigh, "for you to not speak with your mouth open, Ron?"
The look the Weasley shot her was pure confusion. "How am I supposed to breath while eating."
"Through your nose, Ron. There's a reason you have one, you know!"
The brunette sighed heavily, but Luna had apparently understood everything he'd said. "It's going well, Ron. I should have the finishing touches on it tonight and it'll be off to daddy for publishing in next week's edition."
Harry couldn't help it. He leaned across the table, getting a bit close to Luna to try to read what she was scribbling. They were all in the Great Hall together, eating lunch, and Luna was sitting there writing the article about the Order of the Phoenix right out in the open.
Hermione was thinking along the same lines. "Luna is this really the best…venue to be writing that?"
"Certainly," she said, tucking a spare quill behind her ear as she crossed out something on her scroll. "The best place to hide something is in plain sight, and besides Hermione, you're always the one reminding me that no one takes me seriously anyway."
Harry actually snorted at the look on Hermione's face.
"Luna, I never said-" Hermione started.
"Maybe not to my face," Luna said not unkindly, scribbling something else down, "but certainly behind my back. You do that eye roll thing when you think I'm not noticing."
Hermione had the good grace to at least look abashed.
"I'm sure whatever you're writing is absolutely brilliant," Kally said encouragingly, Harry shooting her a warm, appreciative look.
His girlfriend just winked, Harry turning his attention back to what Luna was writing. He had both his elbows on the table and had somehow avoided getting either of them in any of the mashed potatoes, his knees on the bench, his gaze firmly fixed on the upside down words Luna was writing.
PHOENIXES IN FLIGHT
First, the Ministry of Magic did not believe us.
Then, the wizarding public called us and Harry Potter deranged, deluded, and downright dangerous.
Next, the wizarding world claimed that there was no way that You-Know-Who was back.
Prisoners of Azakaban all escaped in mass, and still the wizarding public and Ministry refused to believe that it was the work of You-Know-Who.
It took You-Know-Who trashing the Department of Mysteries (our sources tell us he had a house party with his recent Azkaban escapees that got a little out of hand, as many boyish reunions must) and quite literally bashing down the Ministry of Magic's front door for anyone to believe that he was actually back.
And you heard it all here first, before that Daily Prophet rag (they are only concerned with making money rather than telling the truth) ever published a word of it.
NOW DO WE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION?
For too long the wizarding world has lived in fear of You-Know-Who, and rumor has it a group of wizards and witches is fed up. They are fed up with Death Eaters, they are fed up with an incompetent Ministry of Magic, and most of all they are fed up with VOLDEMORT KILLING MUGGLES, MUGGLEBORNS AND MAKING LIFE IN GENERAL RATHER HELLISH.
There is a group that has decided to fight back!
Our sources say that if you want to join the resistance, make it known and they will find YOU! But be careful…true phoenixes in flight will be able to prove to you that they are who they say they are. They are marked. Beware Death Eaters pretending to be phoenixes in disguise. Here is a list of the known Death Eaters that you should hex on sight:
Tom Riddle (AKA: Lord Voldemort – a half-blood wizard whose father is buried in Little Hangleton graveyard)
Orin Avery
Ludovic Bagman (dead…allegedly)
Stephen Broussard (dead…allegedly)
Daniel Broussard
Alecto Carrow
Amycus Carrow
Barty Crouch Jr. (Dead…allegedly)
Antonin Dolohov (presently insane)
Fenrir Greyback
Igor Karkaroff (once a Death Eater always a Death Eater, even if he turned turncoat and betrayed them he can't be trusted)
Bellatrix Lestrange (was dead but keeps coming back to life like a cockroach)
Lucius Malfoy
Narcissa Malfoy (let's face it wizarding-kind, if her husband is a Death Eater so is she!)
Truman Mulciber
Avery Nott
Peter Pettigrew (currently in prison but we all know that won't last long with the current Ministry in place)
Giles Rosier
Wizards and witches and magical species of all kinds of the wizarding world- you are not alone. You do not have to be afraid any longer. There are those willing to fight back, and we, at the Quibbler, stand with you in support.
Albus Dumbledore once said, "We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."
We can beat Voldemort if we stand together, united!
Fly high phoenixes! Fly high!
Note: If you know of any other Death Eaters you may report their names, with corresponding evidence, to the Quibbler for listing in future editions.
Also please note: The Ministry's only response upon Voldemort's return was to fire Fudge and replace him with someone equally prone to blaming Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, who warned us about all of this in the first place. The Ministry subscribes to the 'shooting the messenger' philosophy, which studies show indicates subpar IQs. Just a galleon for your thoughts.
Harry had gotten so engrossed in what he was reading – and the ensuing concentration it took to read it upside down – that he'd inadvertently stuck his elbow in Luna's pie. "Luna," he gasped, "that's…this is brilliant."
Luna just frowned at it, her translucent eyes studying the scroll with skepticism. "I feel like it's missing something…" she mused, spearing her fork into the pie he'd crushed and eating around him.
"Noph," Ron spewed out from around a bite of sandwiches, peering over Luna's shoulder at it, "phats phoody phrilliant, Phuna."
Ron was right; Voldemort had wanted a war, so they were bringing him a war. Leveraging the press against him, publishing the names of his inner circle whilst giving others hope that there was a resistance, was bound to piss Riddle off.
Harry sat back smugly in his seat, feeling like they might finally be getting somewhere. Between that and the article Skeeter was going to try to sell to the Daily Prophet they were gaining momentum. That was without mentioning the DA's training, or the fact that Hermione had been working on the Order's tattoo with Flitwick, while Luna, McGonagall, and surprisingly Fred and George Weasley had been working on the Order's symbol to counteract the Dark Mark.
While he was thinking a glob of jelly dripped from his elbow and onto his leg. Harry stared at it in confusion, not understanding how it'd gotten there until he realized that Luna's pie looked rather smashed.
Instantly he felt his cheeks warming. "Sorry Luna."
Luna smiled. "It didn't change the taste, Harry. It's quite alright."
Hermione reached over and absently handed him a napkin, her eyes firmly on the most recent edition of the Daily Prophet.
Harry accepted it, cleaning himself up as Hermione started talking aloud. "Hogwarts lost its credentials," she said, sounding so bothered that she completely forgot to correct his abhorrent table manners. "Apparently anyone 'graduating' this year from Hogwarts will not be considered a fully qualified witch or wizard, nor employable in any 'respectable job within the Ministry of Magic or any of its affiliates.'"
Harry actually winced, unsurprised. The news…it was unsettling, but they'd all been expecting that since last October.
Hermione kept reading: "The Board of Governors has simply lost faith in Hogwarts' current educational paradigm, and the acting Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, in the wake of Albus Dumbledore's death is proving to be as unreasonable and bullish in accepting aid from the Ministry as her predecessor. Inside sources tell us class schedules have become increasingly unorthodox since the Hogsmeade attacks, with students often left to independently study their areas of interest."
"Well, they're not totally wrong," Neville pointed out, agreeing with the last bit. Spotting the multiple annoyed looks levelled in his direction, he added, "What? I know we have some classes, but most are becoming a lot more private. You'd think that was a good thing though, not a bad."
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "smaller class sizes and individualized attention. The article wasn't done." She continued reading: "As such, the Board of Governors was left with no other recourse except to revoke Hogwarts' credentials. Parents of remaining Hogwarts' students are encouraged to withdraw their children post-haste, with the knowledge that they will be accepted with open arms at Durmstang or Beauxbatons. An added bonus is the other two wizarding schools within Europe do not happen to be at the epicenter of the plague currently sweeping the 'filthy Muggle world.'"
Hermione stopped there, her fingers curled tightly around the edges of the paper and crushing it.
"Maybe I should take that," Dean suggested, reaching over and slowly extracting it from her, presumably before she could turn it into a weapon.
"They're writing about Muggles as if they're lesser beings," she hissed in response. "I hate these reporters."
Harry patted her on the back consolingly. "If it's any consolation," he tried, "I'm sure they hate you too."
Chocolate colored eyes shot towards him in a scowl, Harry's lips twitching despite himself as she reprimanded, "You're not helping, Harry."
"You know," he said cheekily, "I'm getting told that a lot lately." Mostly by Kaylens, but still, it counted. "You'd think at some point all of you would stop assuming I was actually trying to."
Hermione made an upset sound, before settling on, "Hmph," as her only response.
Ron gave a large gulp from across the table, following it up with a swig of pumpkin juice. "You okay, Mione?" he questioned, sounding serious and actually not talking around a mouthful of food.
Their mutual best mate looked up, looking almost startled. "Huh? Why wouldn't I be?"
Ron and he exchanged concerned looks, both clearly thinking the same thing: Hermione lived for school and grades. If she wasn't going to be a fully qualified witch if she stayed here, her head might explode. "Because," Ron started cautiously, "Hogwarts doesn't have credentials now, and you're a bit…academically minded…"
A look of comprehension slowly dawned on Hermione's face.
It was immediately followed by both of her hands slamming down on the Gryffindor table. "Oh screw academics!" she practically seethed. "If this-these-" she snatched the paper right out of Dean's hands again and waved it. "If these are the kind of people making decisions about what counts as higher learning then I'm not sure I want to be involved with them anyhow." Crumpling the paper she tossed it into the middle of the table, glaring at it as if it'd personally attempted to hex her. "Your brothers were right to launch their own business rather than work with the Ministry, Ron. It's-it's outdated, and prejudice, and foul, and-"
Hermione said a word that had Neville choke, "Hermione!"
Everyone else at the table stared at Hermione Granger, the perfect student, the brightest witch of their age, the straight O student, the one who had been on track to become the first Muggleborn Ministress of Magic by the time she was forty, in shock.
The cream on Neville's pumpkin pastry slid right off the top, splattering down on the table as everyone stared.
"Holy shit, Mione," Ron said, looking awed.
Hermione still appeared to be seething, but a blush crept up on her cheeks. "I mean it, Ron. The Ministry is a bunch of…pureblooded supremacist supporters and if they can't realize that Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore have had it right all along then-then they can just shove it."
Ron was still staring across the table at her, looking like he had never seen her before. "Hermione," he said very, very seriously, "I think I'm in love."
Hermione's blush creeped up to the roots of her hair.
"I'm serious," the Weasley added, looking determined. "Go out with me."
If Harry had thought it'd gone silent at Hermione's outburst before, it had gone even more silent now. The other tables had all looked over at Hermione's loud, unsubtle eruption, so they'd heard Ron's statement.
Now, in a school with a small student body and not nearly enough teenage drama, every single person was inconspicuously trying to not listen in.
One of the Americans – Jake – actually smacked a hand over Susan Bones mouth to get her to stop talking about charms so he could hear better.
Unlike everyone else, Hermione seemed to have missed what Ron had said. "Come again?" she questioned, clearly positive she had misheard.
Ron winced, but then sat up a bit straighter, looking her dead in the eye. "Go out with me." He paused, his gaze flicking towards Kally for some reason, Harry following his line of sight in time to see Kalliandra nodding, before Ron added, "Please. You know if you-if you want."
Hermione actually dropped the piece of bread she'd picked up. "I'm-go-what?"
For the first time in their Hogwarts' careers, Harry was amused to find that Hermione did not sound even slightly articulate.
His best mate looked like he was seriously rethinking this strategy, and made a quick move as if to get up and bolt from the table, only to drop back down onto the bench. "I was-" he gulped, croaking, "I was asking if you wanted to go out."
Having repeated it three times now, Hermione stared at Ron as if finally comprehending what he was saying. "You're asking me out?"
Ron nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. "Er…yes?"
Hermione blinked, then blinked again.
She opened her mouth closed it, then opened it again.
"Um…"
"Er…"
Harry was fairly certain he'd never seen either of his friends quite so red. He'd also never seen Hermione stammer quite so much.
"So we'd-"
"I mean…if you wanted…"
"So I'd be-"
"Something like that."
"Um…"
"Er…"
Dean Thomas, apparently unable to take it anymore, slammed his hands down on the table. "Hermione would love to go out with you, Weasley. There, now that that's settled, where are you taking her?"
Harry couldn't help but stare at his two best friends, a grin creeping onto his face. They looked like deer in headlights.
Ron mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like hadn't thought ahead that far.
Hermione apparently heard it, opening her mouth-
Kaylens jumped in. "Picnic by the Black Lake. He mentioned he was planning to pack a basket earlier, you know, himself. He knows how you feel about house elves so he wouldn't let any of them do it, right Ron?"
The look Ron was shooting Kally was so relieved that Harry couldn't help but grin wider. Somehow the idea of his best mate and girlfriend actually getting on better sent a warm coil through his stomach. "Yeah Mione," he piled on. "Something about flowers to. You know, but none of us knew what kind you liked."
Hermione appeared to have gone mute, just staring blankly across the table at Ron. "Oh," she said softly, "okay."
Every single person at the table gaped.
"So um…this weekend, maybe?" Ron asked, sounding like the words were painful to even get out.
Hermione managed to bob her head.
Then both of Harry's best friends shot up, both stammering excuses about needing to be somewhere else, bolting from the Great Hall and then in opposite directions.
The entire table broke out into riotous laughter, right until Dean Thomas snorted, reaching around Kaylens to clap him on the back. "Hey Potter, speaking of dates, still waiting for you to take this one out on a real one."
Harry's laughter caught abruptly in his throat, the wizard realizing with slow dawning horror that he'd honestly never taken Kaylens out on an actual date.
He stared at her and tried to not choke.
ECOTS
Contrary to what one would have thought, news of Hogwarts losing its credentials did not result in the anticipated mass exodus. Not a single remaining student was yanked out. This was probably attributed more to the remaining students either being over 17 years of age, being from families loyal to Dumbledore even in death, or Muggleborns. The Ministry, while it had sent out letters to the half-blood and pureblood wizarding families, had conveniently forgotten to communicate with any of the Muggleborn families.
That boded poorly for the way the Ministry was being run.
Irregardless, McGonagall had made an announcement over dinner the same night the Prophet had published the credential loss, stating she would help coordinate transfers to any students who desired to leave.
Not a single one had taken her up on it.
Instead over a dozen more had shown up.
Terry Boot, Lavender Brown, and the Patil twins had shown up first. Colin and Dennis Creevey weren't far behind. Terry Boot, Cormac McLaggen, Romilda Vane, Natalie McDonald, along with a half dozen others from the various schools they'd escaped came with them.
Seeing so many students walking in alongside Hagrid, the half-giant proclaiming, "Look what I found wandering around outside," remained the only time in Harry's memory that he'd seenProfessor McGonagall genuinely look close to tears.
"So what's the plan then?"
Justin Finch-Fletchley had been the one to speak, his matter-of-fact, to-the-point question making Harry's stomach twist with nerves.
Harry found himself situated outside, in the courtyard, surrounded by no fewer than three dozen students. Most had been in the D.A., the four Americans included, but many of the others were new. Hell, quite a few were from Durmstang and Beauxbatons.
Gabrielle Delacour was one of them, the young veela's eyes shining with determination in a way eerily reminiscent of her older sister. Harry and her briefly made eye contact, and he was only able to offer her a pathetically unreassuring smile.
Which brought him back to the reason he was so irritated to begin with: Hermione.
Hermione had lured him out here, Harry not particularly pleased to find that she'd scheduled an impromptu DA meeting.
Now he had all these students staring at him, expecting some type of update. It didn't help that today had been the day that the articles on the mysterious resistance group, the phoenixes had been published in both the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet. Ron had been so shocked that their plan had actually worked that he'd stared at the paper over breakfast gaping, "She did it. That crazy, crocodile actually did it."
Apparently his best mate hadn't had much faith that the previously canned Skeeter would be able to sell anything to the Daily Prophet, let alone something so anti-Ministry.
The article hadn't been half-bad either. She'd stuck to Hermione's bullet points, making it sound like a real thing that was being concocted by 'either terribly brave or terribly suicidal individuals.'
Which brought him to his current predicament, sitting out in the June sunlight surrounded by students willing to fight, all asking questions at the same time about what the phoenixes were and could the DA somehow help them.
Upon reading the Prophet everyone had just assumed Harry would know what it was talking about.
He glanced over somewhat frantically at Kally and Luna hoping for help, solidarity, something, but Luna had merely smiled whilst Kaylens smirked. He could have kicked something. Luna had the utmost confidence he'd be perfectly fine in any situation, while Kally seemed to enjoy watching him squirm. To be fair, she'd never exactly been to a DA meeting. Harry also knew better than to ask Hermione or Ron for help; they'd both just smirk and wait for him to talk as well.
With a groan Harry drug a hand over his head, hovering awkwardly by a fountain several birds were taking a bath in. "Look, I'm as confused as the rest of you about these…phoenixes and what they're doing-"
The word, "Bullshit," was coughed into Ernie MacMillain's fist, Fletchley at least having the good grace to grin sheepishly.
Harry fisted his fingers in the hair at the back of his head and gave it a tug. How in the hell did Hermione keep getting him into these situations? By an act of sheer-Gryffindor-will he pressed on. "Look…if you want to help them, then the best thing you can do is train. Make it so you're not an easy target and so you can protect others around you. Death Eaters aren't going to care if you're a pureblood if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. They'll just see you as collateral damage. They-"
"Bro, spare us the sales speech."
Harry stopped, realizing that it was the American, Jake, who had interrupted. The wizard with the hair that actually cooperated was grinning at him, leaning casually against one of the walls fencing in the courtyard. "No need to sell us on the whole 'let's kick the insane overlord's lackeys asses' thing. We're all here because we already want in."
"Anyone responsible for that plague," the American's friend, Matt, chimed in, "signed up for an ass kicking by us." The wizard made a vague gesture towards himself and the three other Americans that Justin had brought with him, back across the pond.
Aidan just made a fist and punched it into his opposing palm, grinning as if eager for a fight.
"I think what they're saying, Harry," Justin Finch-Fletchley translated, shooting the three an only slightly scolding look, "is we're all in. So if you want to pretend that you don't know what the phoenixes are or what they're about we'll play along, but let's just get down to it, yeah?"
Jake nodded in Justin's direction. "What he said."
Something was off about Jake's voice, the wizard's casual demeanor not hiding that. Harry recollected Justin mentioning that each and every single one of them had lost someone close to the plague.
He swallowed roughly, not sure exactly what to say to all of that.
Fortunately an eleven year old spared him that problem.
"Zey are right, Harree," Gabrielle Delacour said, her blue-gray eyes shining. "I want my sister back. If zis is the only way to do eet, zen I want you to teech me 'ow to 'ex as good as you did in ze tri-wizard tourneement when you saved me." She lifted her small chin defiantly, as if expecting him to argue, the eleven year old looking far, far too young to be standing outside amidst so many older students.
From alongside him, where she had perched herself on the edge of the fountain, Kally cast him a questioning look. He added that to the ever-growing list of things he'd have to fill her in on at a later time.
For now, one of the Gryffindor third years cast a sympathetic look towards Gabby and edged closer to her. Harry nearly winced, well aware that a two year age difference would do next to nothing to keep that veela attractiveness from pulling at them. That boy was doomed.
Harry didn't wince though; he just nodded at Gabby, a sincere grimace the only thing he could offer her. "We'll get her back, Gabby." He tried to not think about Hermione's still missing parents, presumably dead. He didn't want to think he was lying to her.
The little girl's eyes shone wetly for only a moment. "Zank you, Harree."
Justin was frowning though. "Get who back?" He looked between Gabrielle and Harry, as if doing the math. "Wait, you can't mean-"
A tension pounded within his head. "Voldemort took Fleur, Justin," he grated. "He's got her."
Justin, along with several others who had met Fleur, all looked stunned. "But why? She's a-"
"Pureblood. Yeah, I know. But she, like Gabby here," Harry gestured awkwardly to the spitting image of Fleur as a first year, "is part veela. To him that makes them less than human. So he sees them as nothing more than cattle to be ranched and used for the brand of magic his full-pureblooded-humans don't have."
Terry Boot leaned abruptly back against a stone pillar. "Jesus Chris, Harry."
Ron abruptly snorted, nodding at him. "Keep using phrases like that, Boot, and you'll be practically advertising you're Muggleborn."
"I don't care who knows it."
Ron grinned, almost wolfishly. "Good, but you better learn to fight back then."
Terry just met Ron Weasley's gaze levelly. "Better get started then, Weasley."
Everyone turned to look back at him, Harry feeling so sodding uncomfortable he began mentally making a list of foul things to do to Hermione's homework for getting him into these situations to begin with. He drug in a deep breath, his gaze moving between all those gathered there. The way they were looking at him, as if he had all the answers…
He sodding hated it.
They'd done training with the DA. Even the Americans had trained with them. The one thing they hadn't done was actually talk about what the hell they were signing up for.
"This isn't a game," he blurted. "You talk about wanting in, but all getting in tends to do is give you a front row seat to watching people you care about die right in front of you." He didn't see it. He didn't see the cold comprehension in any of their gazes that he saw when he looked at Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Kally, Neville, Luna, or hell, even Dean.
He didn't see if because they hadn't lived it.
In Gabby's eyes, and the four Americans there was a ghost of something…
They'd seen more than they were letting on. He filed that away for later. In the meantime Harry needed the others to grasp what the hell they were training for. His teeth practically ground. "I'm not exaggerating," he croaked, forcing his voice as steady as possible. "People die. Sometimes, if you're lucky," casting a glance towards Ron, "they might not get killed, just maimed. But that's when it's a good scenario."
His best mate offered a grimace, unconsciously reaching back to rub at the spot on his back where Remus had sunk his werewolf teeth in.
Still, they didn't look like they got it.
Abruptly Harry moved, frustrated, pacing in front of the group and feeling like some sort of deranged general giving a pep talk to troops before going to war. Short of them all getting tossed into a battle or a makeshift war hospital, he had no idea how to get them to even remotely begin to grasp the concept of what they were signing on for.
He stopped near Hermione and Neville, his brow creasing heavily as he had a sudden idea.
Then he whispered something quickly to them, before turning back to the impatient-looking group.
Cormac McLaggen let out an exasperated groan. "Potter, can we just get on with it? You planning to teach us to hex here or what?"
Harry opened his mouth, only for Dean to cut him off. "Harry's trying to get your reduced attention span heads wrapped around the concept that this is going to be messy, McLaggen. You walk into a wand fight not fully grasping what to expect and you're going to freeze and get your ass handed to you or killed. That what you want?"
Despite himself he actually shot Dean a grateful look, the dark skinned wizard nodding stiffly at him as if to say they're all yours.
McLaggen just scoffed. "It can't be that bad. No offense Potter, but you're still standing."
Annoyance sliced through him, but he bit it back. "Actually, McLaggen, I died."
Harry gave it a second for it to sink in, for Cormac to think it was some kind of joke, before adding, "And I don't mean metaphorically. I mean literally." The edge to his voice grew harder, his head jerking towards Kally. "Owe the fact that I'm still standing here to one hell of a Healer and my girlfriend threatening to harm him if he stopped working on me. Apparently he considered it, twice."
Behind him Hermione made an upset sound, having only seen the aftermath when his half-lifeless form had been drug back into the hospital wing.
He'd nearly left her behind. Her, Ron, Kally…
His stomach clenched and twisted at the very thought.
The group was staring at him with varying degrees of shock or disbelief. Fletchley's mouth was hanging open. The American, Jake, casually reached over to shut it for him. Gabrielle just looked shocked. "But…but Harree you can't die," she stammered, her accent much thicker than Fleur's.
Harry grimaced. "I can, and I did. I'm as human as the rest of you, Gabby." With that his cutting gaze slid across the group. He grimaced more. "See? This is what I'm trying to tell you. This isn't a game. We're happy to train with you to help you protect yourself, but if you actually want to fight, you need to realize it's not fun, it's not pretty. People you love die."
Harry wasn't an idiot. He didn't miss the way that Kally was looking straight down at the ground, at where her feet hung from her perch on the fountain. He could practically feel how tense she'd gotten.
"He's right."
She'd spoke so softly, so quietly even Harry barely heard her, but so did Cormac. The wizard's gaze had shifted to her, almost critically. He still looked like he didn't quite buy what Harry was saying. "Your Potter's chick?" he demanded.
Kally looked up, peering at him from beneath several strands of hair that had escaped to hang in front of her eyes. "Yeah, and he wasn't exaggerating. He died and it was…awful."
She left it at that, looking away again, making it clear that it was all she was going to say on the subject. Harry stared at her for another long, long second, silently trying to convey to her that he was alright, before turning back to the group.
Whatever it was, seeing Kaylens looking so off had apparently gotten through to some of them. Maybe they believed he'd actually died now. A few people stared at him with blank looks, as if not quite comprehending everything they'd just heard, while others frowned, shifting uncomfortably on their feet.
"Well damn," Cormac stated.
None of them seemed to have noticed that Neville had disappeared.
Ernie shook his head, looking less amused than he had before. "It doesn't matter, Harry. Death Eaters are killing people. You don't want to tell us about the phoenixes, fine, we'll figure it out on our own. Let's just get to training, yeah?"
Around Ernie people were nodding, a bloke from Beauxbatons stating in heavily accented English that he hadn't come all the way to Scotland to not help.
Harry considered it.
He wasn't comfortable with this. He wasn't comfortable being tossed headfirst into a war. He wasn't comfortable finding himself in the unlikely position of helping train students for it on the side between classes. Hell, he hadn't been comfortable last year when Hermione had volunteered him to train the DA, and that was just to catch up on Defense Against the Dark Arts' class, even if he'd found that he liked doing it.
Now things were a whole lot bigger than that. If they wanted in, the Order would be glad to have them, but first they'd have to prove it.
Harry swallowed. "Okay, let's start. How about we start with letting you know what going to war is like then." Behind him Hermione gave an inconspicuous flick of her wand.
Something cracked loudly, just outside the courtyard, nearly every person gathered jerking to see what it was.
Violent red light erupted within the courtyard, slamming into their backs, knocking those gathered to the ground in various states of unconsciousness. Several spells launched the victims off their feet, Cormac bashing into one of the pillars hard enough to send his head bleeding.
Only Justin, Susan, Jake, and Aidan had remained standing, on their feet, their shielding charms having protected them from the onslaught. The four stared at the members of the New Order, who had all simultaneously hexed everyone there, even Kaylens.
After all, stunning hexes were the equivalent of getting nailed by a powerful Muggle stun gun, which ran off electricity, and Kaylens was good at manipulating electricity.
Harry breathed hard. "Nicely done," he complimented the only four to remain standing. "Too bad though."
Justin frowned. "Too bad about what?"
The remaining four were stunned from behind, Neville having crept around the courtyard in the confusion, having sent four stunners in quick succession at their backs.
Harry just grimaced. "That." Smoke billowed up, steaming from so many cast spells in one place, his gaze darting towards Hermione. "Did we ever screen any of these new people? Make sure they aren't Death Eaters in disguise?"
"Well," she said, her brown eyes darting behind him, "I can't say I actually condone it, but…"
Harry followed her gaze, finding that Kally was already moving from person to unconscious person, seizing their chins and opening their mouths, taking a clear vial of fluid and dripping a few drops onto their tongues.
Even Gabby's.
It wasn't until Kally looked up, her champagne colored eyes catching onto his, that she smiled. "Snape developed a slightly more potent version of veritaserum," she explained, moving to the next person. "Use it while someone's stunned or sleeping, and it does the trick without drowning them. He might have given me some with the suggestion to use it liberally." Her hazel eyes flickered back down at the gathered group, adding, "It doesn't last particularly long, so we should probably enervate them and hurry up with the questions."
Harry flat out stared, his chest actually twisting in a way he didn't have time to reflect on right then. "Kaylens, that's downright-"
"Slytherin. I know."
He actually snorted, glancing back at Hermione. "You're a genius, Mione."
His friend just frowned, but he didn't miss the slight blush creeping up on her ears as Ron echoed the sentiment. "No, Mione. He's right. You're a bloody genius."
They spent the next twenty minutes waking everyone up, one-by-one, interrogating them about their allegiance, if they were Death Eaters, if they aspired to be Death Eaters, if they were telling the truth about wanting to stop Voldemort from taking over, and if they really wanted to join the phoenixes to help.
Luna may have gone a bit off topic, asking Jake if he thought replacing her raddish earrings with the new pygmy puff ones were a mistake. The American had kind of grinned in a stunned sort of way, telling her any earrings would look good on her.
Harry, Ron, Neville and Dean all frowned suspiciously at him.
Regardless, every single person there passed their line of questioning: even McLaggen.
Granted, every single person was also highly disgruntled, Neville actually snarling, "You wanted in. Do you really think we can afford to trust just anyone?"
Harry remained crouched down alongside Gabrielle, taking the small girl's hand and giving it a comforting, awkward squeeze. "Sorry Gabby."
Gabrielle just brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, pouting but telling, "Eet ees fine, Harree. Eef zis is what you need to do to get Fleur back, then do eet."
"So," Jake spoke up, fixing his hair as he again stood, tugging Luna up alongside him, "how many times are you planning to dose us?"
It took Harry a second to realize what he was talking about: then he remembered; Snape had already used traditional veritaserum on the American arrivals, Justin, Susan, Hannah and Ernie the moment they'd arrived.
He was spared from answering by Ginny. "Well if you'd stop letting people slip you things, we'd stop slipping it into your drinks. Get smarter." The red head flipped her hair over her shoulder, Dean letting out a booming laugh.
To his surprise, the American shrugged, grinning at Luna. "Hard to argue with that logic."
Luna nodded serenely.
Then she jabbed her wand into his side and stunned him.
A second later they'd stunned everyone else in the DA all over again, Neville already groaning that they were going to be incredibly slow learners when it came to surviving stealth attacks.
"Yeah, though Jake will be upset," Luna agreed serenely. Spying the looks everyone shot her, she pointed at his unconscious form. "We messed up his hair again."
Harry snorted.
Kally stood, brushing her hands off on her jeans, her hazel eyes flickering in a direction Harry hadn't even looked. "Well? What do you think?"
From behind two different pillars emerged two blurred figures, Professor McGonagall and Mad Eye removing their disillusionment charms.
"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron muttered. "You didn't even tell me they'd be here and you told Kaylens?" He shot her a wounded look.
Hermione just smiled sneakily, McGonagall raising an eyebrow. "Ms. Kaylens," she told, "was unaware of our presence." Her hawkish gaze darted towards his girlfriend, adding, "Though the fact that she knew we were there means we might be slipping, Alastor."
Kally just innocently spun her wand around in her hand, the gesture bloody frightening.
Mad Eye just cackled, looking him in the eye and pointing at Kaylens. "A keeper, Potter. Like I said."
McGonagall just rolled her eyes, before surveying the group with a frown. "I think we should separate the younger ones from the older ones," she finally instructed. "The older ones we can recruit and work with. The younger ones…we can still work with, but placing the burden of knowledge on them at such an age…it's unlikely they would hold up under torture. We can't expose them to that risk."
And that was how the Order gained twenty six new recruits.
Even Cormac.
ECOTS
The term was rapidly drawing to a close, Ron, Neville, Luna and Dean helping with the new Order members' training, while he, Kaylens and Hermione worked on researching horcruxes. It was a slow, painstaking process. At night, when the students were sleeping, flashes of light could be seen far off on the grounds as Fred and George attempted to, in their words, bedazzle the Order's symbol that Dean had drawn. Luna and McGonagall had gotten a basic form of the spell down, Flitwick getting it to float, but it lacked the pizazz – the twin's words once again – that the Dark Mark carried with it.
Judging from the many explosions that were occurring, it wasn't going well.
At some point Hermione and Ron went on their date. He, Kaylens, Dean, Ginny and Neville had purposely hung out in the common room until late, waiting for them to get back. When they had, they'd both turned brilliant shades of crimson before bolting towards their separate dorms. The five of them had just watched from where they'd been sprawled out on the floor.
"You know, if he wasn't my brother, it'd be almost kind of cute," Ginny had commented.
Dean had just patted her consolingly on the back, Harry's gaze darting to Kally. He hadn't forgotten what Thomas had pointed out, the realization enough to make his stomach squirm. "So Kaylens," he questioned, "Lupin and Tonks are getting hitched, August third. Assuming Lupin doesn't run. Want to be my date?"
Ginny had erupted into ...a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like itneedstobeaprivatedateandsoonerthanthatyoudolt.
Harry instantly backtracked, Kally's eyebrows remaining raised in quiet amusement. "And er…tomorrow night. Want to go…do something?"
Dean groaned outright, thudding his face into one of the couch pillows. Ginny just shook her head. "I cannot believe that my idiot brother managed to take Hermione out on an actual, real date, before you even managed to ask Kally on one."
Harry shot her an irritated, 'you're not helping' look. "My mistake. It's not like there's been other matters on my mind, like a Dark Lord with a bounty on my head, or anything."
"Still mate," Dean interjected, lifting his head from the pillow. Harry found himself oddly disappointed that the wizard hadn't accidentally smothered himself. "When'd you ask Kally-kins out again? November? Pretty sure the statute of limitations ran out when you didn't actually take her on a date after the first month."
Harry growled, sounding concerningly rabid.
Ginny just rolled her eyes, clambering to her feet. "Come on Dean, Neville," she ordered, nothing about her statement capable of being perceived as a request, "I don't think our presence here is helping Harry's mojo."
Neville stifled a laugh with his fist, shooting Harry a sympathetic look. Dean didn't even bother. He just shook his head, commenting, "I don't think our presence affected his mojo. Clearly you didn't see him dance around Cho or ask Pavarti to the triwizard gala. Bloody brutal to watch that was. Then it took him months of literal hair pulling before he finally asked Kaylens here ouuuOW!"
Ginny had snagged Dean by the ear and started manhandling him towards the dormitory stairs.
Neville followed at a far more sedate pace, shaking his head and laughing.
Harry couldn't help but snarl a little after all three of them, before turning his attention back to Kaylens. She was close, laying flat on her stomach, relaxing on the floor with him, directly opposite where he lay. More importantly she was still there, not having been scared away yet, full lips twitching in amusement.
"Hrm…you know Dean may have a point," she said, somewhat impishly. "When does the statute of limitations on dating run out?"
Harry made an unpleasant, velociraptor-like sound.
This, regrettably, only seemed to amuse her.
"We've been," he defended churlishly, "on dates." He realized that was technically not true, but if he counted sex in the Quidditch locker rooms or snogging on Snape's workbench-
Abruptly he realized just how terrible that argument would sound out loud. He couldn't count their tryst in the Forbidden Forest either, and the horcrux hunt hadn't exactly been a beach getaway. Crap.
Kally lay there, before the unlit fireplace, drumming her fingers against the rug thoughtfully. "So, if it runs out after thirty days, does that mean I'm technically single?" she inquired innocently, teasing. "In that case, perhaps I should just go see what Dean's doin-"
"I will literally," Harry interjected, "scalp him."
A smile teased her lips. "Mmm, Potter, that's downright Cro-Magnon of you."
"Scalp him," he reiterated.
Kally's eyes practically sparkled, golden flecks swirling as she studied him. "Pity he's not my type," she said simply. "That'd be a fun fight to see."
He was fairly certain that the dog growling in the room was actually him, but couldn't be bothered to care. "So glad watching me squirm amuses you."
She ignored him with practiced ease. "Ginny and I," she casually continued, widening her eyes for excited emphasis, "could have placed bets."
Truce or not, Harry mentally decided that Dean Thomas would have to die. It'd be a terribly slow death at his hands. Now that he knew there was an afterlife, he was fairly certain they'd not judge him too harshly given this conversation. Sirius could explain it to whomever guarded the gates. "You're having far too much fun with this," he grumbled accusingly, "aren't you?"
Her lips curved enticingly. "Yes."
Harry permitted his annoyed gaze to run over hers, which was a mistake.
It took precisely two seconds of staring at the green and brown flecks in her otherwise champagne colored eyes before his eyes slowly began to drift down. The smooth line of her neck had him considering attacking it. The way her shirt clung loosely to her, his eyes lingering on her exposed collarbone, it jutting out from the way she was laying…
Months prior he'd marveled at how none of her shirts or jumpers seemed to fit, every sodding single one of them always slipping over her shoulder. Harry, for the life of him, could not have looked away even had Voldemort himself had a wand leveled at his chest. The ends of Kally's hair trailed far past her collarbone, her long tresses slipping over her shoulders to conceal it, making him want to sweep them aside to press his lips to her skin, to run his mouth across its length…
Merlin the non-witch was distracting.
She was also watching him, the common room's candlelight reflecting against her silken hair. Judging from the way she was gnawing fiercely on her lower lip, she appeared to be fighting back a laugh.
"Still trying to ask me out, Potter?"
His attention jerked back to her face, his eyes narrowing with wry humor even as his heart pounded. "Nah," he lied. "Now that it's been pointed out to me that I'm single, was just thinking over my options." He paused, green gaze glinting with ill-advised trouble. "Pavarti's back, but Romilda Vane might just squeak her out in the looks department."
Kally's mouth literally fell open, the non-witch staring at him, aghast.
Harry smirked, inclining a challenging eyebrow. He was surely a dead man, but he patiently waited for the fire flashing in her eyes to simmer down to something less terrifying before speaking again. "You know, Kaylens, you're right, I'm thinking Romilda. Pavarti was a bit of a drag at the Triwizard Gala. No sense repeating. Besides, I'm betting the Chosen One's got some pull with the witcheeEOW!"
Kaylens had flicked her fingers, a small shock seizing his leg and causing it to kick violently up in a reflexive jerk.
As far as retaliations went, it was highly effective, particularly considering he not only kicked himself, but knocked his knee cap against the ground when his leg smacked back down to earth. Three blows in one. Harry buried his face against the rug for a second to groan rather loudly.
When he looked up from where he still lay, he was met with a highly vexed stare. "Too far?" he questioned. Kally simply hissed, Harry acceding, "Yeah, too far."
Kally's only response was to blow errant strands of hair violently out of her eyes. "I will electrocute her," she promised, "until you can poke her with a fork and consider her well done."
Harry briefly wondered if Kaylens had even the remotest clue of how completely and utterly terrifying she could be. Despite this, and in spite of his still smarting leg and kneecap, his mouth twitched into a crooked grin. "Damn Kaylens, that's dark."
She didn't so much as blink. "So says the one threatening to scalp someone."
"Fair point, but really, it'd be justified," he drawled, sounding completely serious.
Kally, her face only a half meter away from his, inclined an eyebrow, pointedly waiting for him to explain exactly why it'd be justifiable.
Harry smirked. "I called dibs. Thomas violates dibs, I get to kill him."
Kaylens bit down on her lower lip, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
He just smirked further, green gaze roaming over her. Kally lay on her stomach, her legs bent at the knees, feet carelessly hanging in the air as she studied him right back. Being there, soaking up the quiet of the common room, sprawled out on the rug with her, it was easy to forget there was a war going on.
"You know," he told dryly, "between the two of us, we keep going like this, there could be quite the body count."
That perfectly sculpted, golden eyebrow of hers rose even higher. "Oh?"
"Yeah," he stated with a thoughtless shrug. "Jake and those other two American wizards he brought with him looked at you, so, you know, they'd have to go."
"Remind me," she quietly queried, sounding concerningly serious, "what house Cho Chang's in again?"
"Like I said," he deadpanned, "once you got through her, Pavarti, Romilda, and the rest of my fan club, and I got through every wizard that ever so much as looked at you, we'd be in Azkaban for sure." Waiting a tick, he added, "The body count would be fucking staggering."
Kaylens' perfect eyes narrowed dangerously. "Fan club?"
He ignored that. "There is, of course, a simple solution to this."
Again, she repeated, "Fan club?"
Harry's mouth twitched into a smirk, enjoying her indignation a bit too much for it to be healthy. "You could," he posed, as if it were an insane idea, "just agree to go out with me again, and spare the masses from suffering the trauma of so many non-Voldemort-initiated-murders." He paused for effect. "Crazy concept, I know."
Across from him Kally's eyes narrowed, looking torn between not wanting to drop her fan club inquiry and possibly agreeing. "I suppose," she said with mock caution, "it'd be the only practical solution."
Harry made a sound of agreement. "Naturally."
"Of course."
"So tomorrow at six?"
"Can't. Snape's got me until at least seven."
"Better make it eight. Gives you time to get all dolled up."
Kaylens drummed her fingers on the floor, looking like she was honestly weighing the merits of his murder. "Dolled up?"
Right. That was a dangerous sounding dolled up. Harry held his ground, or rather, his portion of the rug they were sharing, and raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you chicks call 'getting ready?'" He used his fingers to make air quotes.
She growled at him.
Harry smirked.
She huffed in annoyance.
That was about all that Harry-freaking-Potter could sodding take.
He moved fast, grabbing and flipping her onto her back with enough speed that she actually squeaked. He'd torture her with that fact later. Right now he was too busy being on her, his face buried against the side of her head, her hair catching in his mouth as he snarled against her ear, "Better go get Dean?"
Beneath his body, her warmth radiating up against him, her lithe form shook with unrestrained laughter.
Again Harry snarled, nipping at her ear. "Going to be the sodding death of me woman." His grip tightened against her waist with pointed emphasis, his lips burying behind her ear, making a move for her neck-
Kally's face abruptly turned, muttering against the side of his head with amused annoyance, "Romilda Vane?" Instantly her fingertips dug into his back along either side of his spine. It was probably meant to cause pain, Harry's body jerking in a spasmodic, pleasurable shiver instead.
"Please," he croaked, sarcasm in every letter, "like she holds a sodding candle to you." With that his mouth lowered, finally claiming her neck, mouth assaulting every centimeter of skin he could actually reach.
Kally's breath audibly hitched, the non-witch's breathing incredibly unsteady. He couldn't help it; even joking about not being with her elicited this reaction within him. It was a sodding urgent need to touch, to feel her beneath his hands, to make her shiver, moan…
His mouth reached her collarbone, his tongue licking against it…
Kaylens made a slight whining sound, as if trying to suppress something else. She was biting down hard on her lower lip, murmuring breathlessly, "Merlin Potter…you do this to all," she gasped, "your exes?"
He growled against her skin, her scent, her taste assaulting him. His lips traversed down her collarbone, it distracting even now as he reveled in it, before finding her pulse point, speaking directly against it. "Just the one," he confessed.
Kaylens' hands were already tangling in his hair, clenching against the back of his head, her hips shifting, pressing up against his as she tried to squirm-
A shot of need so intense he saw black rocketed through him.
With a groan he'd jerked his head up, abandoning her collarbone to roughly seize her lips, claiming them as sodding his. They weren't Dean's. They weren't Jake's. They weren't any of those sodding other wizards that Fletchley had brought back with him from across the pond. Kaylens' lips were his.
Kally didn't seem to mind, his girlfriend fervently deepening their kiss, Harry's working heart pounding. His arm was sliding beneath her back before he could think about it, arching her body up, off the ground, pressing her nearer…
It wasn't until he physically required oxygen that he broke away, still clutching her close as he drug in deep breath after deep breath, his lidded gaze watching her doing the same. Kaylens…his Kaylens...Merlin she was incredible.
And she was his.
What Dean had said bothered him more than he cared to admit. "I never realized," he disclosed hoarsely, the want, the need, the urgency abating as he offered poor apology, "that I hadn't taken you on an actual date." Brushing his mouth against hers, he rumbled in low confession, "Should have."
She was already shaking her head against him in quiet denial, her hair literally everywhere, but Harry didn't care. Her scent was filling his senses, the wizard just glad to have her close.
Kally wasn't content to leave it at that, the witch pressing her mouth to his, an electric shock shooting through him, trailing across his lips everywhere hers touched. "Think," she quietly forgave, "you did good," forming words against him, "given all the things," biting down on his upper lip, talking around it, "trying to kill you."
He groaned in pain at the bite, murmuring agreement as something akin to relief slid through him. It replaced the swelling of guilt he'd been carrying ever since Thomas had pointed it out. His hands slid down her sides, gripping needingly…
Harry was well past the point of no return, needing her close, in love with her, planning to marry her, and yet he'd never taken her on a sodding date.
"I love you," he promised, growling against her lips, "now will you please go out with me? Again? Tomorrow. Whenev-"
Kaylens cut him off.
It was a long while before he could breathe again. They lay there, together on the floor, Harry pinning her down whilst Kally let him.
Eventually Kally's head dropped tiredly back against the common room rug, her eyes still closed as she quietly panted from their prolonged kiss. His forearms could barely keep himself propped up, barely avoiding crushing her, yet Harry could only stare, his eyes impossibly drawn to her swollen lips, injured from a combination of his own assault upon them and her habit of biting down whenever she was thinking, suppressing impish laughter, plotting…
It was all he could do to avoid reclaiming them, waiting for an answer with baited breath like a first year asking out his first girl. Not that he'd ever had that particular experience, but some of his dormmates, namely Seamus, had had crushes. He'd seen their agony. "Well?" he croaked.
Kally's eyes fluttered exhaustedly open, something stirring deep within her irises. "You're," she murmured, "a complete idiot." Harry waited, forearms straining to hold himself up, his eyes narrowing as he debated dosing her with veritaserum.
His girlfriend smirked, reading his mind. "I'd love to, Potter." An impish glint entered her eyes. "You know, so long as you don't also invite Romil-"
Harry cut her off with a rough growl, his mouth pressed back to hers so fast she actually squeaked again. They stayed like that for a long, long time, Kaylens murmuring, "I love you," against his lips and nearly sending him into a whole new type of cardiac arrest.
He murmured it back, again and again.
They were down there so long that Neville eventually stumbled tiredly back down to make sure Kaylens hadn't killed him, or vice versa.
That didn't mean Harry stopped kissing her, not even as he scooped her up, carrying her up the stairs.
Right now there was no way in hell he was letting her go back to her own dormitory, and as Harry flicked the curtains closed around his bed, Kaylens tucked tightly up against him, he couldn't help but laugh at something she'd done earlier that very week, all in the name of the Order's propaganda mission.
"I can't believe you told Skeeter I practice tantric sex."
Kaylens had to muffle a laugh in his shoulder, murmuring, "I can't believe she actually wrote it down."
That article was going to be a train wreck.
ECOTS
