"Fear the silence before the storm."
~ Ria Kundu
Chapter 68 ~ In the Calm I Found You
ECOTS
December 24th, 1996
The next four days passed quickly, old man winter rapidly taking hold of Northern Scotland. Now that little wizarding cottage by the sea clung to warmth only from the many fires and enchantments burning inside it. Outside nature was doing its utmost to put on a deadly cold spectacle: snow swirled violently on the icy breeze; chunks of ice slowly formed upon the rough sand and silvery trees, courtesy of the splashing sea foam; and the North Sea's vicious waves could be heard battering the rocky shoreline, the sound oddly soothing in spite of the frigid violence of it.
Despite this the room's lone window remained determinedly open, as if in defiance to Mother Nature herself. Morning light spilled in through it, icicles hanging from the shutters. An invisible barrier protected the room's occupants from the chilly breeze. Snow swirled artfully upon it, the flakes sizzling a brilliant green or red if they ventured too close to that lone window. Just inside hung enchanted icicles, impervious to the heat, courtesy of Dobby.
The Christmas season, it appeared, was upon them.
As was Harry Potter's sense of humor.
Harry had witnessed a lot in the seventeen years and four months of life that he'd managed to squeeze out of the sixteen years and three hundred and sixty four days of literal time that he'd actually, physically been on this planet. In that time he'd fought a basilisk, a troll, a half-giant, a nesting Hungarian Horntail that had made even Mrs. Weasley's motherly instincts look tame, merpeople, accromantulas, Death Eaters, horcruxes, hordes of dementors, a pissed off girlfriend, werewolves, Snape, a psychopathic Dark Lord in the flesh no less than five times (eight if he counted Quirrell, the diary, and the bastard's most recent attack outside the Forbidden Forest), and perhaps most frighteningly, Hermione when she'd found out he hadn't done his homework. But of all the crap Harry'd seen he'd still somehow been unprepared for the sight that met him.
As such, Harry Potter took one look at his girlfriend and snickered, thereby solidifying his imminent future celibacy.
Kaylens' head jerked up so fast that it was a marvel she didn't snap her neck. Behind her the snow continued to artfully swirl, his girlfriend's eyes immediately narrowing. "Problem Potter?"
And to think, it wasn't even eight a.m.
Harry leaned in the doorway, trying to don a serious, abashed look, and miserably failed. "New look?"
The look Kaylens shot him told him to not just go to hell, but promised pain with a rusty nail shoved in an inconvenient orifice. "Yes…" she drew the word out dangerously.
Dobby, oblivious to the exchange, hummed contentedly to himself, rather happy to have someone to actually help. Despite the Malfoys clear mistreatment of him, one thing Dobby had apparently actually missed was having someone to help get ready for the day. As such, the house elf stood precariously on the back of the bed frame, directly behind Harry's girlfriend and looked, by all appearances, to be styling Kally's hair.
An assortment of brushes, clips, and brightly colored twigs of holly and evergreen hovered around Kaylens' head whilst Dobby worked like a mad scientist, brandishing what looked suspiciously like garden shears, all the while merrily humming Christmas songs.
Harry's mouth twitched.
To Kally's credit, she was doing an admirable job of not wincing or shirking away in fear. Hell, had Dobby come near his head with even dull-edged safety scissors he'd have been halfway across the channel.
That wasn't what had Harry repressing laughter and signing his own early death warrant though.
No.
That was the fault of her ears.
Kally's ears, typically appropriately sized and flat against her head, now were anything but. Granted, they still lay against the sides of her head, but in the five minutes that he'd been gone nicking some of the cinnamon-apple cider from Dumbledore's kitchen they'd somehow, well…grown.
Now they looked like an elves'.
The tops of her ears had become elongated and pointed, poking out from her mass of thick hair, flopping over at the tips. Little red and green ribbons had been strung from them, rather like they were tinsel and her ears were miniaturized trees.
They also appeared to be shooting out glitter every time Dobby sang the words 'Merry Christmas.'
Harry's lips twitched.
Kaylens noticed, narrowing her eyes with all the frostiness of the winter weather outside.
Harry made a strange sound, rather like he was choking.
Dobby flipped a long piece of Kally's hair around a small branch of holly, smacking her directly in the nose, Kaylens' letting out an abrupt sneeze from the scattering pollen. Brilliantly sparkling glitter shot out of her ears.
Harry couldn't help it.
He snorted.
Loudly.
Kalliandra's hazel eyes flashed dangerously.
"You know," he nonchalantly managed, "always wanted to snog another species." Eyeing her flopping ears, he fought back a grin. "Granted elf wasn't on my radar…no offense Dobby."
Dobby waved a distracted hand and snapped his fingers, some fake snow falling over Kally's head.
That too, somehow, made her sneeze.
Glitter now coated the entirety of the bed she sat on.
Harry lost the fight and grinned like he'd won the Tri Wizard Tournament, only this time sans resurrecting any dark lords. "I gotta say Kal," he disclosed, "oddly on you the whole pointed ear thing kind of works. And the glitter…you really were taking notes from Lavendar about how wizarding men like their women sparkly."
Kally let out a dark growl. "You're enjoying this."
In response he took a slow swig of the cider, holding her eyes and pointedly waggling his eyebrows over the bottle neck.
Kaylens shot him a look that could have killed lesser beings. "So, if elf wasn't on your radar, what exactly was?" She waited just a tic, before shrewdly adding, "If you say veela…"
Harry's smirk practically hurt his face at the trap she was laying, and decided to steer into it. "Nah," he drawled far too casually, "that whole stumbling around as a hot chick's drooling marionette doll thing never appealed to me. That's more Ron's speed."
Kaylens arched a single, golden eyebrow concerningly high. "Hot chick?"
Harry leaned his shoulder up against the doorframe, a convenient safe distance away, and met her raised eyebrow with one of his own. "Surely you're not telling me you can't appreciate the aesthetics? Hell, pretty sure I even caught Ginny eyeing up Fleur once."
Again, Kaylens repeated, "Hot chick?"
Potter tilted his already opened bottle of cider towards her, the scent of cinnamon wafting up. "Indeed."
Behind him the floorboards creaked, Regulus Black passing through the hall and coming to an abrupt stop. Harry twisted around to look at him, casting him a devil-may-care smirk that just about guaranteed poison would find its way into his food later. "Heya Reggie."
Black blinked at the Tonks impersonation, before shaking it off. It looked like the man had just woken up, and was clearly in need of coffee; strong coffee. "Did you just insinuate," the man stated, as if slowly processing basic English grammar, "that a witch, that is neither the one sitting here nor the one you are...involved with was…hot?" He appeared to gag at the final word.
"What's the matter, Black?" Harry posed. "Got something against veelas?"
Sirius' ghost stared at him as if he'd grown a second, then a third head. "Surely," Black stated slowly, "even you cannot be this stupid?"
Harry was mentally contemplating a sarcastic response, when Kaylens beat him to it.
"Believe me, he is."
"Ah good," Regulus stated, "and here I was worried I'd suffered a stroke and this new level of folly was some massive hallucination."
Dobby whipped some of Kaylens' hair around what looked suspiciously like a tiny pine branch. "Harry Potter is nice to his friends," the house elf said with an uncomfortable frown, as if unaccustomed to scolding him, "but he is not being nice now. He is making his mate feel badly."
Then Dobby fixed him with a stern look over Kally's head. It would have been somewhat intimidating had Kaylens not started choking at the 'mate' reference.
"What?" she squeaked.
Regulus gave a bored yawn.
"Mate," Harry responded helpfully, suppressing a grin at his girlfriend's consistent discomfort, no matter what timeline she was in. "You know, a chosen partner. One of a bonded pair. Typically for copulating with the intent to breed in the animal kingdom, but with humans simply chosen for the pleasure of the other's company and for the really spectacular sex."
Kaylens made an upset sort of sound.
Harry tilted his head curiously, his brow creasing. "Should I find that insulting?"
Kaylens groaned, dragging her hands over her face.
"Yeah, probably," Harry muttered to himself, answering his own question.
"It is far," Regulus grumbled, "too early for this. I haven't even had breakfast."
Harry, Kaylens and Dobby all ignored him.
Dobby shot Harry another disgruntled look, then looked down at the top of Kally's head and spoke soothingly while quite literally petting her hair. "Harry Potter will be nice to his mate," Dobby assured her, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Dobby doesn't think Harry Potter knows he upsets you, because he hasn't had food and Dobby heard Miss Hermione say that around girls Harry Potter needs more…"
The elf frowned in consternation, Harry taking pity. "Tact, Dobby. She thinks I need more tact."
Dobby nodded decisively. "Tact."
Kaylens closed her eyes and made a whining sort of sound.
"Has the abysmally obvious fact that you are incensing a Reach failed to occur to you?" Black questioned from behind, a howling wind outside rattling the walls.
Harry shrugged complacently, the giddy feeling that she was alive still in full force. "For complimenting her?"
Black's mouth fell open in as uncharacteristic an expression as they came. "Pray, tell me, you asininely incompetent half-wit," he requested, "what about this conversation has your drosophila-sized mind possibly interpreted as complimentary?"
Across the room he could hear Kaylens mumbling to herself about reasons not to kill him.
"Well for one," Harry calmly stated, taking another swig of his cider, "I noticed her new look. Chicks like if you notice things. Really, Reggie, should try it, might get yourself a girl."
Black's mouth actually hung open, staring at him.
Naturally Harry took that as invitation to continue. "Not to mention that with us, verbal barbs are a matter of sport. Really, if I didn't tease her a little she'd think I was polyjuiced."
For a second Sirius' ghost stared at him unblinkingly, as I unable to comprehend the sheer idiocy he was witnessing. "You believe," he finally stated, "exchanging verbal barbs is a compliment?"
Harry shrugged. "It's acknowledging that she's a secure woman." Yes, that sounded like something reasonable that Hermione might say.
Black continued to stare at him. "Ah yes," he deadpanned, "because verbal antagonization is what you are meant to do with women."
This time Harry grinned. "Amongst other things…"
Kaylens snapped out of it long enough to shoot both Regulus and him a withering glare. "You know I can hear you? Just because one of you is in the hall doesn't make you both magically soundproof."
Harry grinned, but kept his attention on Regulus. "Like I said, can think of a few other things to do with her," he countered, "but given her mood reckoned it'd get me hexed."
"It will," Kaylens threatened.
Harry waved a hand dismissively, as if a cute puppy was growling at him.
"Dobby," his girlfriend said sweetly, "can you hand me those shears? I rather want to cut something off someone."
Harry's head whipped around at that, just on the off chance that Dobby actually handed them to her.
Fuck, he actually was.
Black was little help. He instead rubbed the bridge of his nose and grunted morosely, as if regretting all his life decisions up to this point. "Idiot," the Potion's Master finally concluded, walking off and muttering to himself about dullard boys and needing a drink.
Harry barely noticed. He was too busy eyeing the way Kaylens was lovingly stroking her newly acquired sharp object.
"Mind repeating that, Potter?" she asked sweetly.
He gulped; audibly. Antagonizing her had rapidly become a favorite game of his, given that she was damn adorable when flustered. Now however…
Given he was left with few options, he breathed deep and met her gaze. If he was going to get castrated he might as well own it. "Which part?" he questioned. "The insanely complimentary part about how I prefer you to the arguably sexiest species in existence, or the part about how I enjoy sullying your virtues?"
She practically dropped the shears.
Harry idly wondered exactly how Dobby had found those to begin with, then remembered the strange topiaries growing, for some bizarre reason, in the cottage's bathroom. Dumbledore probably kept them on hand for pruning lest he get lost on his way from the toilet to the shower. While considering all of this, and the fact that he was very likely to wind up a eunuch by the end of this conversation, Harry took another long, slow swig of his cider and contemplated his options.
Then he swallowed, sized up the distance between he and Kaylens, considered the likelihood of her being able to actually hit him if she decided to throw the things, and decided the odds were against. As such, it explained the smirk he shot her.
"What?" he stated with mock innocence. "I said arguably the hottest. Not that I agreed."
Her lips fell apart and the non-witch actually sputtered.
"STOP while you're ahead, Potter!" came Regulus' booming, clearly-spelled voice from elsewhere in the cottage. Clearly he'd been taking lessons from Lee Jordan's Quidditch announcing.
With skill born from literal years of just not giving a fuck Harry ignored both the disembodied reprimand and the obvious fact that they were being eavesdropped upon. "Really Kaylens, don't look so shocked. Prefer gold to silver. Would have reckoned you of all people would have figured that out by now."
Kally swatted at Dobby's tiny hand - the elf had been reaching for a throny rose branch - and fixed Harry with a glare. "The only thing I need to figure out," she threatened, "is exactly what body part I'm going to chop off later." Then she gave the shears a telling snip-snip motion.
Dobby and Fawkes both snorted.
Instantly Harry flattened his hair and considered his current predicament. Kaylens was there, sitting on the bed, alive and intact. He personally really wanted to snog her. He also had her cider. She, on the other hand, was incensed and armed with a pair of shears.
Pushing his shoulder off the doorframe, he took a rather brave step into the room. "Permission to enter the snoggery?"
Kaylens blinked. Then blinked again. "Snoggery?"
"Told you," he said far too casually, "veelas aren't my speed."
She inclined an eyebrow. "So sarcastic dark creatures are more your style?"
Harry took another step closer, Dobby waving his hand and causing more fake snow to fall down into Kaylens now red, green and gold hair. "Genetics might make you dark Kaylens, but really…I'd deem you more gray than anything."
Now she looked genuinely surprised. "I'm holding a pair of shears threatening to kill you and you call that gray?"
"If you were dark," he reasoned, "wouldn't you have thrown them by now?"
Kally seemed to consider this, Dobby leaning back to inspect Kaylens' monstrosity of a hairstyle, nodding with the solemnity of a NEWT examiner. A small, two-centimeter-tall pine tree was plopped on the top of her head with finality. Then, as if the house elf had been unable to fully divide his attention between hair styling and their argument until that exact moment, Dobby abruptly disapparated.
He reappeared directly at the end of Kaylens' bed.
"You," Dobby said, pointing a finger in his direction, "will be nice to your mate, and you," he padded around on the mattress to face Kaylens, "will not harm Harry Potter." With a snap of his fingers the shears disappeared from her grasp, Kally making a protesting sound.
Dobby spun back around looking satisfied, then glared at him in a very un-Dobby-like fashion. "Harry Potter?" He tapped his foot, as if expecting an answer.
Harry had frozen partway between the door and the bed, doing his absolute best not to laugh at the scolding he was receiving from the diminutive elf. "I'll try," he promised, "to not piss her off." Gaze flickering to her with dark humor, he wryly added, "Much."
Dobby tapped his foot harder, the mattress actually bouncing.
Harry choked down a laugh. "I promise we'll snog and make up Dobby. Really."
Dobby hovered a moment longer. "And Harry Potter will tell his mate she looks nice?"
Kaylens made another choking sound at the word 'mate.'
It took him a second to realize that Dobby was completely and utterly serious. It left him with no other choice than to actually look at his girlfriend, who looked utterly absurd.
Her hair looked like a mutated Christmas tree, her ears had been charmed into glitter-spewing pointed elf ones, and there appeared to be a little cloud over her head that was snowing at random intervals.
His entire body shook with repressed laughter. All choking it down resulted in was making him grunt like he was being strangled. A smirk threatened him. He fought it back, but it was tougher than taking on that Hungarian Horntail his fourth freaking year. He idly realized he probably deserved a medal for not laughing outright yet.
"Kaylens," he uttered, fighting back a grin, "you look good enough to put a wreath on."
His girlfriend scoffed skeptically.
Dobby spun around to gauge her reaction.
Harry shot her a wink, mouthing behind Dobby's back we can fix you.
A shockingly grateful look crossed Kaylens' face, and she shot Dobby a fake smile, as if truly believing her boyfriend's verbal contrition.
Dobby spun back around to face him, and Harry also adopted what he hoped was a reasonably contrite look.
The house elf eyed them both critically, then nodded once, twice-
The pop of the elf disapparation was loud in the suddenly empty room.
Harry eyed the spot he had just been. "Fairly certain," he disclosed, "that I'm more terrified of an enthusiastic Dobby then I am of Voldemort."
Kaylens was already spiritedly attacking her hair, yanking out a stick of leaves and berries and staring at it in horror. "You say," she agreed dryly. "You didn't just have him playing pureblood stylist with you." She stared at the bedazzled twig with mounting incredulity. "Purebloods don't actually dress like this, do they? They'd poke out their own eye if they so much as moved the wrong way."
"They're trying to exterminate over half the world," he felt the need to point out. "Common sense isn't exactly their strong suit."
Kaylens made a sound oddly reminiscent of a velociraptor.
"And to think," he wryly observed, "I left you alone for five minutes."
She scowled at him, as if it were entirely his fault.
"Five minutes," he reiterated.
Kaylens ignored this, yanking a clip out and sending her green and red tresses tumbling down. "Remind me to say no the next time he offers to put me in the Christmas cheer." She peered through the thick hair currently cascading in front of her eyes and added, "And to hex you. Repeatedly."
He inclined an eyebrow. "In that exact order, or are you open to the hexing first option?"
She shot him a golden eyed glare from beneath red and green stripes.
"Asking for a friend. You know, so he knows when to run."
"Dobby enjoys this, doesn't he?"
"Just wait," he warned sympathetically, "until he starts knitting you hats."
Kaylens let out a huff and resumed the attack on her hair. Days ago he'd been mentally preparing himself to lose her, and now…
Now she was certainly alive, incensed, and everything he could possibly want.
A ridiculously warm feeling washed over him, and Harry risked death by projectile clip, walking over. Reaching the side of the bed, Harry extended the procured bottle of cider, lips twitching. "Peace offering?"
Kally froze, both hands on the top of her head, where she'd just found the tiny, two centimeter high Christmas tree that Dobby had speared into her hair. "Any chance," she questioned hopefully, "that's spiked from Casper's stash?"
He shook his head with mock moroseness. "Apparently near death experiences make getting sloshed ill-advisable for at least a fortnight. Something about the integrity of your organs and Black not wanting them to impersonate gelatin."
Kally tugged the small tree out of her hair and tossed it onto the covers. "It's been a fortnight."
"Yeah, since you got knocked out. Not since you woke up. And besides," he continued with a smirk that could incite a riot, "it's not even eight in the morning."
From elsewhere in the cottage the loud banging of pots and pans erupted, an argument about 'how in nine hell's you DO poach an egg!' drifting-no...blasting in, not at all muffled words about it 'most certainly not being too early for scotch' audible on a familiar drawl.
Kally's eyes slid towards the cacophony. "Don't think the hour's stopping Black," she said dryly.
As if to emphasize her point there came a loud BANG, as if one had just hit the other upside the head with a frying pan.
Harry winced and sincerely hoped it was Dobby getting the Beater practice in. Somehow he figured Black might be just a touch more agreeable with a skull fracture.
Kaylens simply shook her head, a tiny flower falling out. It floated down to the quilt, as if giving up. Half her hair remained pinned up in an explosion of Christmas cheer, the other half hanging loosely down in red, green and gold stripes.
Harry met her eyes and gave the unclaimed bottle of cider a pointed waggle.
A wistful smile touched her lips as she finally reached out and claimed it. "Thanks, Harry."
"You could try," he suggested smugly, "sounding less surprised when I do something nice." Taking a seat on the side of her bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight, Harry watched the mirth dance in her eyes.
Then he watched as her lips wrapped around the bottle neck, her eyes closing as she took a long drink from it. The way her eyelashes fluttered, flecks of fake snow resting upon them from Dobby's chaos, did seriously unnatural things to his gut.
"It's probably bad," he told, unable to look away, "that I'm jealous of that bottle."
Kaylens coughed, choking.
"You know choking's bad for your health?" He stated this as if it were a newly discovered fact.
Kally coughed again, still choking, but this time she managed to shoot him a mildly irritated look.
He loved that look. The way her eyes glinted with just the threat of promised malice was more than enough to send his heart racing. Reaching out while she caught her breath he tugged out another stick of holly, freeing a few more long tresses. "How is your hair this thick?" he questioned curiously. "Seriously Kal, even Hermione's hair isn't this wild." He allowed his fingers to slide along a charmed green tendril, the silky tress feeling good between his fingers.
Kaylens coughed one last time. "My hair isn't wild, Potter."
Considering its current state he looked pointedly from it, to her, then back.
Then he gave her presently green tendril a pointed tug.
She growled, swatting at him. "Usually."
Outside a wave crashed, the water flying meters high. Spray hit the window's invisible barrier, sizzling with red and green sparks. "Fair enough," he agreed. Kaylens hair was straight, and it sure as hell wasn't unruly or bushy like Hermione's, but thickness? She had that in spades. Harry took a swig of the cider, pointedly reclaiming that wayward tendril, winding it idly around his finger.
Kaylens made no move to stop him.
It was awhile before he realized that he'd lapsed into silence, but he had. It was one of the innumerable things he liked about Kaylens; she never tried to force him to talk.
"You know," he posed seriously, "that I was just kidding about the veela thing, right?"
The warmth of the fire wafted over them, Kaylens tilting her face closer to his hand. "Well," she told, eyes glinting impishly, her pointy ears doing little to counter his mental comparison, "if you weren't, you do fall asleep quicker than me so…" She let the implied threat hang there.
He narrowed his gaze in an unmeant glare. "Light sleeper Kaylens, reckon I'd wake up."
"I spend all day in a potions lab," she countered. "Who's to say I won't slip you some deep sleeping draught when you're not looking?"
"Dirty move, Kaylens."
"Was almost sorted into Slytherin," the red, green and golden haired Reach reminded. "Sounds like my specialty."
He let out a growl, twisting his hand in her hair and tugging her just a bit closer. "Forgetting, so was I."
Kaylens looked up at him with a mischievous smile. "Mmm, that so, Potter?"
He slid his hand to the back of her head, tugging out what looked like a red chopstick and letting it fall, the rest of her hair finally cascading down around her shoulders in a silken wave, freed from Dobby's work. "Yeah," he promised, "that's so."
Kalliandra closed her eyes as if suddenly relaxed. "Merlin…" she breathed, "that feels better." Her hand flew to her hair, rifling through it contentedly.
"No offense to Dobby," he appraised, "but that didn't exactly look comfortable. Though I do have some lingering questions about this." He gave the top of her newly shaped ear a pointed tug.
She scowled. "Apparently," she drew out the word, "you can't be in the Christmas spirit if you don't look the part."
Harry couldn't help it; he snickered.
Kaylens, oddly, didn't look murderous; instead she smiled wickedly. "Good thing you like it," she said far too sweetly, "given Dobby asked if you'd like to be an elf too."
The laughter died in his throat.
Kally, looking rather pleased with herself, propped the cider bottle between her knees and set about combing her hair with her fingers right there on the bed. Harry contentedly watched her work through the tangles, wondering if he should hand her a comb.
Nah. This was more fun.
"You do know," he repeated, "I was kidding before, right?" He'd heard Dobby say he was upsetting her. He hadn't thought that was the case, but the sheer idea of it had the disconcerting effect of making his entire stomach twist unpleasantly.
Kaylens stopped with her right hand halfway through her hair. She eyed him as if uncertain if he were serious, before understanding filled them. "Potter, if you didn't tease me occasionally I'd be worried you were shacking up with Weasley." She paused, evilly adding, "The male one."
The thought of snogging Ron was enough to have him choke back bile. The gagging from his throat matched the sentiment.
Kaylens blinked at him innocently.
Harry grimaced, darkly growling, "Just had to go there, didn't you?"
She smiled faintly at him, hummed a few lines of what sounded suspiciously like 'have yourself a Merry little Christmas', glitter shot out of her ears, and then returned to smoothing out the tangles from her hair. The silky, festively striped strands framed her face artfully, Dobby's shearing job having left it hanging in long, colorful layers.
It suited her, Harry's gaze impossibly drawn to every centimeter of her and the striped PJs that had apparently once belonged to Dumbledore's sister.
Merlin, he'd missed her.
Abruptly he reached out, snaring one of her hands within his, holding it tight. Then he thudded his bottle down on the mattress and fixed her with a dour look. "When I have nightmares tonight," he warned, "you're the one who'll get kept up, you know." He'd been sleeping alongside her bed ever since they'd arrived here, and he'd been in it with her ever since she'd awoken.
The arrangement was something neither of them had protested, Kaylens echoing his thoughts.
"And the problem with you keeping me up again is…?" An unconcerned smile teased her lips, it so sinful that it took all his effort to not claim them there and then.
"Do you really," he questioned dryly, "want me thinking about Ron while snogging you?"
Now it was Kaylens' turn to shudder, the slight movement drawing his eyes to her collarbone as her nightshirt slipped slightly. The striped cotton matched her hair – red, green and gold - the top few buttons undone, revealing just a hint of her smooth, silken skin and curve of her rising breasts. It drove any thoughts of his best mate straight from his head, his mouth abruptly dry.
Never before had pajamas clung to someone so distractingly.
He wet his lips; it was going to be a long, long seven months before he saw his Kaylens again, and quite suddenly he was acutely aware.
It'd been months since he'd touched her in the way he wanted. A half year had passed. Kally'd been sent off to brew stockpiles of antidote for the plague in France, while he'd been sent to the Dursleys to heal, and then he'd traveled through time.
Right then, in that moment, all he could think about through his sheer and utter relief that she was alive was how badly he wanted to reach out and physically touch her.
But he couldn't; this wasn't his Kally. Not yet.
Harry's grip unconsciously tightened around the cider's glass bottle, heart pounding.
"Harry?"
He shook himself, forcing a grim smirk. "You know," he told, voice hoarse with need as he brazenly changed the subject, "kind of digging your new look, now that the pine garden's been removed from your hair." Releasing her hand he gave the tip of her festive ear a tweak.
As if to spite him, a pine needle fell out from behind it.
Kally picked the needle up between two delicate fingers, putting it in front of his nose. "Prejudice against evergreens, Potter?"
He eyed it like it was a basilisk fang about to en-venomate him again. "More like concerned I'd lose an eye trying to kiss you." His throat abruptly clenched, Harry failing at keeping his eyes on her face, or the pine needle.
"Mmm," she chimed understandingly, uncaring about his wandering eyes. "Blindness by pine tree. Still…can't help but notice you didn't say it'd stop you from trying." A finger slid beneath his chin, his girlfriend gently tilting his face back up, meeting his eyes with a knowing grin.
"Can't help but notice," he told, fingers sliding down to her earlobe, lingering, "that you're right."
Golden irises sparkled impishly. "Maybe you should get on with that then, Potter." Pausing, raising a golden eyebrow beneath her red, green and gold hair, she teased, "Unless of course you're still holding out for that veela to come alon-"
"Like hell." With a rough breath he grabbed her, drawing her close. A contented sound escaped Kaylens' lips as his own brushed roughly against hers, the wizard stopping himself abruptly. Harry wanted her; he was acutely aware, and he needed to slow down
Hovering, grip flexing against her spine, he abruptly gave up on holding the cider and abandoned it, hand grabbing onto her side as one of the two birds in the room let out a mighty squawk.
The annoyed sound in his head let him know quite clearly that Fawkes thought that one, he was an idiot and two, had just saved his drink from spilling, snaring it in his claws and placing it on the night stand.
Harry didn't care. The only things he cared about was the warmth of Kally pressing so close to him, the way she shivered beneath his hold, and the way her breath ghosted against his mouth as he refused to claim her lips. Kally made an upset sound, shifting, trying to claim his, driving Harry to tug back mere centimeters to prevent it. An annoyed sound expelled from her lips, but he wouldn't claim them; not yet.
Harry simply spoke against them, words forming against her mouth as they both sat there on what had once been Ariana's mattress, muttering his request. "Wait," he begged, voice roughened with desperation. "Just…wait."
Harry could practically taste her as she nervously wet her lips, whispered word tracing across his chin. "Why?"
A harsh breath escaped him, his brow pressing to hers as he hovered there, sitting….just sitting and holding her close. "Honestly…you start and I'm not sure I'll be able to stop. So…need a minute." Their relationship, every fucking thing about it, how she could go from teasing to talking to this with him…
Hell.
Harry wanted to be close to her, to clutch her to his chest, to be as close as humanly possible between two people.
Kaylens squirmed, only not to pull away.
She squirmed closer.
Harry let out a groan, and it sure as hell wasn't from annoyance. Her fingers were sliding across his thigh, lingering upon the jeans he'd changed into as soon as they'd woke, mainly so she'd not see the sodding effect she had on him. Yet now…
He felt her fingers brush against the hardest part of him, his entire body giving a spasmodic shudder.
"Mmm," she murmured coyly, "so it wasn't the veela."
His lidded gaze crazed, fixing her with a dark, dark look. "You're enjoying this."
Kalliandra uttered nothing. Instead she nodded against him, her soft hair brushing against his face, her nose bumping up alongside his as her fingers moved, brushing harder against him…
Hell.
His voice dropped to a rough growl. "You play dirty, Kaylens."
Light laughter shook her, her golden eyes fluttering open to peer impishly into his. Liquid gold locked onto green, the mischievousness that danced within her irises maddening. "Try not," she whispered, "to sound so surprised."
Kally's fingers tightened upon his jeans, a need within him throbbing at the abruptness. Right now, in his arms, she was alive, smiling. Not two weeks ago she'd ceased to draw breath. Her heart had come so, so close to stopping. He'd nearly lost her.
Harry's breath quickened for a whole new reason.
"Never," he groaned, "surprised." Slowly he fisted a grip in her hair, a need to tell her rising. "It'd be a cold day in hell," he lowly managed, "before I chose a veela over you. Told you…prefer gold." His hand slid within her silken hair, clenching, unclenching, making it abundantly clear exactly what type of gold he meant.
Everything about her was unnatural.
Everything.
Yet she was still his, still human.
Kaylens soft laughter quietened, his witch, his non-witch studying him openly. Harry's forehead rested firmly against hers. The hard part of his throat rose and fell in a rough swallow, the two hovering close.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Ariana's portrait politely turning her back on them, plopping down in the sand to give privacy whilst she played with sea shells.
Portrait or not, he had to give Dumbledore's kid sister this: she had class.
It'd be a shame to not take advantage.
She was only a centimeter away.
Harry moved, his mouth claiming Kaylens with the honest need of a man starved, dying of thirst, the non-witch in his arms the only thing that could quench it.
Kally made an unbelievably agreeable sound, her hand rising, tugging within his messy hair, that familiar jolt that her touch always brought slicing through him like a pleasurable knife that welcomed this sort of death. It sent his lips tingling, set his skin on fire. Outside the frigid ocean surf could be heard, crashing against the rocks, but inside the heat was downright sweltering.
Harry shifted on the mattress to drawn her nearer, wanting, needing her close, yet his movements were careful, measured. Kaylens might be sitting on her own accord, she might be reaching, touching him, toying with him, but Harry hadn't forgotten how broken her body had been. Black still hadn't let her out of bed on her own yet, and like hell would Harry risk any harm coming to her. Not because he had no self-control. Not because he couldn't wait.
That didn't mean he wasn't going to kiss her like his life depended on it.
It was a long, long time before his lips broke from hers. Harry rested his brow flush to her face, the two content to simply breathe one another in. Slowly, very slowly Harry felt her shifting, her fingers curling against the front of his jumper, a large embroidered A for Albus on the front. They hadn't exactly had time to snag their own clothes before time traveling, and their counterparts would surely have noticed if half their clothing stashes went suddenly missing. Despite this, despite the fact that he was donned in their Headmaster's youthful clothing that hadn't succumbed to either moths or the decades, Kaylens still tugged on his shirt, wanting him and his old man clothing closer.
"Kal," he whispered, "we should…we should-"
Harry couldn't think of the word. He was pretty sure it meant stop.
That was it.
"We should stop."
She ignored him. Instead her lips found his jawline, trailing upon it in a way that stilled his breath. He choked on a laugh, hand gripping her shoulder. "Hope you don't think," he raggedly managed, "this will get you," her lips slid down to his throat, "your present early."
Kaylens stopped and peered curiously up. "You got me a present?" She sounded genuinely confused.
Harry thanked undead gods for the reprieve; he honestly didn't know if he'd be capable of pulling away if she'd continued like that, and he figured Black would be less than pleased to walk in on them shagging on Dumbledore's dead sister's bed.
Dobby wouldn't have cared; hell, he'd probably have sealed them in and called out twisted encouragements about siring the next generation of Potter's through the magically locked door.
Harry heaved a heavy breath and pulled back. "Well," stroking a hand up along her spine, "given I missed the first time, figured I'd better make it up to you the second, lest I get hexed." She'd been in the hospital wing on Christmas last time too, having overdrawn, Harry having lain alongside her, refusing to leave.
The symmetry to now was striking. The only difference being that Pomfrey wasn't here to remove house points the next morning.
Truth was he was sodding elated. Two days ago she'd been in so much pain she could barely move. Four days ago she'd been unconscious. A week ago, what was left of the witch he loved had already been gone, her brain inevitably damaged.
Yet now she was sitting up, with him, talking to him, her lips doing maddening things to his throat.
His mouth went dry at the enormity of everything they'd been through.
Kaylens' golden eyes practically danced with mirth, clearly amused that he'd actually gotten her something. "Sure you're not just trying to bribe me into forgetting about the veela?"
His hand slipped down to her lower back, kneading the skin around her spine. "Going to hold that over my head for awhile, aren't you?"
"Suppose I could be persuaded…"
"Well hell," he caught her meaning, "what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't oblige?"
She murmured a sound of agreement, shifting slightly so as to not spill her bottled cider. Somehow, through their kissing, it'd remained safe. "An insufferably bad one?"
He growled, nuzzling his face against her neck. "Picky wench."
"Am I?" She sounded distracted, tilting her head ever-so-slightly to give him better access. Harry took advantage, while Kaylens determinedly tried to talk. "I mean," she mused breathlessly, his lips finding her pulse point and eliciting a gasp, "I am snogging you. Can't say it says much for my standards…"
He jerked his head up and narrowed his eyes, finding his girlfriend slightly flushed. "Remind me again," he questioned, trying not to sound too pleased with himself, "why I spend so much time catering to your every whim?"
She blinked dazedly. "Because no one else will have you?"
"Shouldn't taking on the Dark Lord," he forced with mock arrogance, "buy me a free pass with the witches for at least a year?"
The corners of her lips tugged up into a smile. "Probably two, actually."
"Well then, it's settled." He sat back, casually snagging his drink from the bedside. Then he clinked his bottle against hers, as if cheersing a business arrangement. "Snog you again in two years. Have oats to sow and all."
"Mmhmm," she murmured agreeably. "Probably a good time to tell you I've always preferred blondes anyway then?"
Harry made a disgusted face. "You have terrible taste."
She quirked an inquisitive eyebrow. "Oh? What's that say about you?"
Right. He'd walked right into that one. "Feel like there ought to be a repelling spell for this…" he muttered with mock annoyance. "So you'll wake up one day and be utterly repulsed by anything lighter than completely black hair."
"You do realize," her voice had a mischievous lilt to it, "that leaves Dean very much in play?"
Harry's grip abruptly tightened upon her back, twisting in her pajamas. "You snog Thomas or a blonde Kaylens, and I make no promises about what state their limbs will be in."
"Hrm…" Kally mused non-concernedly, her fingertips trailing down his chest, "possessive much?"
"I don't," he snarled, "like to share."
She gnawed on her lip, suppressing a smile. "Seems a bit unfair, what with you getting to run around snogging veelas and all."
"Fair enough," he agreed.
She tilted her head curiously, green and red and gold cascading loosely around her shoulders, the gentle wavy tresses no longer pinned up within the confines of Dobby's mania. "So…what now?"
He gave a dramatic sniff, as if disappointed. "Guess I'm stuck snogging just you."
An impossibly tempting smile curved upon her lips. "Guess so."
"Pity that," he said absently, "here I was wondering what snogging a red head would be like."
Her lips parted in silent reproach, Harry merely raising his drink and taking a long, slow swig. Not once did he break eye contact, an amused glint in his eyes.
Merlin he'd missed talking to her. Tonks and Moody had been decent company, but he'd still been lonely as hell without her. He'd missed everything, even how she got incensed. Speaking of...
Kaylens managed to close her mouth and formulate actual words. "Red heads? You know you're going to pay for that later?"
A low, rumbling sound rose in his chest. "You're the one who threatened to snog Thomas," he gagged on the word, "then insinuated Malfoy was more your type than me."
She hissed a breath, actually shuddering. "Insinuated blondes, not arrogant little trolls."
Of all the things Malfoy was, as much as he loathed admitting it, little wasn't one of them. "Hell Kaylens, think he's little what's that make me?" Malfoy was taller than him.
She donned a pseudo serious expression, taking her own sip of cider as if mulling it over. "Appropriately heighted," she finally settled on. "Though still annoyingly tall."
"Geeze," he drawled, "thanks. I'll just file that away amongst my list of attributes that keeps you around."
A laugh escaped her, and it was like fucking music to his ears.
This, sitting with her, talking with her, even more than the physical stuff, was something he'd missed. They sat there, together, Kaylens cross legged and practically in his lap, he on the edge of the bed, one leg folded onto it, the other hanging over the side. Each held onto their bottled cider with one hand, their other consistently on the other.
Harry's flexed against the small of her back, green gaze studying her whilst the sounds of banging pans rose anew within the cottage. She studied him right back, her fingers trailing over his abdomen, and something warm swelled within him.
His mouth twitched. "You know," he revealed, "I probably should get in there if we ever want breakfast. Black's bound to kill himself."
Her lips twitched, mirroring his own. "And the problem with that would be…?"
Harry snorted outright. "Please, you know you actually like him."
Kaylens scoffed, then shook her head, a crimson red strand of hair falling artfully in front of her eyes. "I still can't believe you can actually cook." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You sure it's not some kind of clever spell?"
He cast her an affronted look. "Well that's wounding."
"Stop dodging the question, Potter."
Harry's malachite eyes locked onto hers. "Couldn't do magic at the Dursleys," he disclosed, sliding his hand up into her hair. "Wouldn't even know how to use magic for it anyway." Slowly his hand twisted around a silken lock. "Besides," he drawled, "I tried that, I'd be semi-concerned the food would get animated then try to escape. Reckon the chocolate frogs shop is a house of horrors like that." Hell, assuming he survived all of this and neither the 'Auror' or 'Quidditch' thing panned out there was his back-up plan: chocolate frog creator.
He could have snorted at the thought.
Shouting erupted from farther off in the cottage, Black and Dobby alternating yelling about eggs being undone, Kalliandra meeting his eyes and grinning. "Will you at least promise you'll try not to get hexed in the cross fire?"
Harry leaned forward, tugging her close. "I'll take it," he muttered, "under consideration." Then he grinned, pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, before reluctantly getting off the bed. He stood there for a moment, watching her with what he was sure was a dumb grin, disbelieving his actual luck.
He'd gotten her back.
He wouldn't lose her again.
Kaylens sat cross legged on the bed, watching him right back with a hesitant smile. There was an uncharacteristic openness, unguardedness in her expression, one he rarely had seen, yet now somehow it was directed trustingly onto him. It was enough to make his chest twist with the promise of impossibly good things.
Wordlessly her eyes flickered questioningly towards the door, silently asking if he was going to go prevent either the house-elf or Black's murder, but still Harry stood there.
Harry was watching her, on account he'd feared he might never get to again.
Flecks of brown and gold swam within her golden irises, more prominent than usual, her crystalline eyes practically dancing. Her red and green striped hair made her look like a Christmas nymph nestled amongst the quilt and blankets, and Harry wondered for the thousandth time how someone he'd once hated so much had become the person he cared about most.
The realization was startling.
There was a lot they had to talk about, and yet…he'd be obliviating her soon.
Maybe he could find a way around it; he had four months to figure it out.
With one last grin in her direction he vacated the room, finding the kitchen looking like a minor detonation had occurred, the epicenter the charred black floorboards by Black's feet.
Dobby, standing atop the now unconscious potion's master, had fastened an over-sized chef's apron around himself, waving his tiny hands about as he cooked, looking rather pleased with himself.
Harry couldn't help it: he laughed.
Then he stepped over Black and went to help.
ECOTS
December 25th, 1996
Getting out of bed had been a task; not because she'd been unable to but because the wizard currently serving as her keeper was worse than an Alcatraz maximum security warden. Every time she'd so much as moved a toe off the bed Black had magically appeared in the doorway, caustically reminding her that if she didn't care about the integrity of her internal organs than he shouldn't either.
Potter had glibly pointed out that her organs ought to be fairly fine by now, it'd just been her brain damage that had kept her down for so long.
He 'may' have gotten kicked for that.
At any rate it'd taken cajoling, pleading, bargaining, and flat out annoying Regulus for the better part of an hour until he'd relented. But he had, and now Kally found herself finally in another room, sitting gingerly in a bay window, looking out the icicle-encrusted glass at the equally cold ocean.
The pebbled beach practically sparkled with frost, glittering in the sunlight as if it had been lit up with millions of Christmas lights.
"It's beautiful," she declared, shaking her head. "I can't believe Dumbledore would spend so much of his time at Hogwarts when he has this to come back to."
Potter reclined in the window seat with her, one leg hanging off the ledge, one knee drawn to his chest, his arm casually draped over it. He eyed her strangely. "You make it sound," he stated as if concerned for her mental health, "like Hogwarts is ugly."
Kally bit down on her lower lip, searching for the right word. "Hogwarts is charming on an epic scale," she finally settled on. "It's…Romanesque. It's overwhelming. This though…this is comforting." The blue-gray sea churned offshore, breaking against the shallows, Kally finding that she positively could not look away.
It took her a long while to realize that Harry could. Practically feeling his eyes on her, she glanced past a still red colored strand of hair at him, finding him silently watching her, his mug of apple cider seemingly abandoned on the window seat.
Kally clutched her own steaming mug, the heat and cinnamon scent wafting pleasantly up to tickle against her nose. She raised an eyebrow curiously.
It looked like he was fighting back a smirk and failing. "Romanesque?"
Kally slid a leg out, giving his foot a slight kick. "It happens to be," she softly scolded, ignoring his wounded look, "a notable form of architecture you know."
Harry dropped his mock-affronted expression and instead inclined a dark eyebrow. "Notable form," he repeated slowly, "of architecture?"
"Those sound," she agreed, narrowing her eyes mildly, "like the words I just said." Pausing, arching her own eyebrow, she coyly added, "You'd tell me if you'd recently been hexed into forgetting basic English vocabulary, wouldn't you?"
Potter donned a mock lock of confusion, as if mystified by the words coming out of her mouth.
Kally rolled her eyes, deciding to not give him the satisfaction of winning. Instead she tugged her legs up to her chest, holding her mug between both hands, the scent of cinnamon brilliant. Closing her eyes she relaxed, enjoying the moment.
At least until Potter chuckled.
Not moving her head away from the cup, she lifted her golden eyes to shoot him a withering look. The wizard, her wizard, made a point of drumming his fingers against his knee as he studied her, looking bemused. "So…you like architecture?"
She shot him a mock scowl that dared him to make fun of her.
For some reason her ire just sent his grin widening. "Damn, you actually like looking at buildings," he said, as if having difficulty processing this new fact. Ignoring her growl, he added idly, "You know, even Hermione's not quite that geeky."
This time she growled louder.
Harry donned an innocent look. "What? Never said I didn't like it." The corners of his mouth both twitched up.
Kally instantly glanced at the warm mug of warm apple cider in her hand, contemplating the merits of turning it into a projectile.
Potter's malachite eyes widened, the wizard hastily holding up a hand as if ready to calm a rampaging Spanish bull. "Always violence with you," he mocked. "Just saying, it's not exactly a course at Hogwarts." Then, as if remembering something, he mused beneath his breath, "Explains the monastery actually."
"What monastery?"
"So…" he evaded, the amused hint in his voice relaxing, "curious, how'd you wind up liking that?"
Kally eyed him skeptically.
Potter merely inclined an eyebrow, looking oddly interested.
She didn't bother trying to draw it out of him. Since she'd awakened Potter had developed an irritating tendancy to ellude to things,then dodge her queries. So Kally wiggled her toes, the fluffy socks that had once belonged to Ariana feeling wonderful on her feet. It occurred to her how frighteningly strange this was: sitting here, talking with Potter over cider, without the fear of anyone or anything interrupting that might be trying to kill him, without the fear of Death Eaters attacking just because¸ without the fear of plague victims coming back to life. It was nice. It was calm. It was relaxing.
She could get used to this.
Potter's dark eyebrow remained raised, the wizard's hair sticking up in every conceivable direction, it still mussed from sleep. It was early, and they'd only just woken, Dobby kicking them all out of the kitchen on account that it was Christmas, and he would not let 'his wizards' do any work on their holiday. Black had muttered something about checking on a potion – he'd apparently set up a lab in a spare room – and abandoned them to their own devices after ensuring she hadn't 'damaged her idiot self further by insisting on the asininely dull task of moving to sit in another room.'
Which was precisely how her and Potter had wound up here.
"Kaylens?" Harry asked abruptly, frowning. His relaxed posture seemed to tense, as if concerned by her silence, but he forcibly injected an out-of-place nonchalance into his tone. "Information classified or you spacing out on me?"
The vague traces of worry in his expression she didn't miss.
The fact that his concern warmed her didn't alter her response at all. "I'm not spacing out." Kally eyed him suspiciously. "Sure you won't get too geeked-out?" she queried, making air quotes with one hand.
Instantly his body un-tensed, Potter leaning back against the wall with a sniff. "Still trying to process that you have a geeky side," he drawled. "You know, as opposed to the violent one."
Kally allowed her eyes to narrow, if possible, further. "I don't have a violent side."
Harry snorted outright. "Sure you do. It's that top layer, coating another layer of violence, covering your thin level of sarcasm, before reaching that soft, inner layer of slight, creamy disdain."
Then the wizard had the gall to take a long drink out of his cup, smirking at her over the top.
The corner of her own mouth twitched. "You're impossible."
His smirk grew, the man pointedly, patiently waiting.
She heaved a breath. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
Harry lowered the mug, balancing it on his knee. "Fun facts about my girlfriend who won't even tell me her middle name?" he repeated, as if scandalized. "Well hell Kaylens, bound to send a hand-crafted invite to Voldemort for my next birthday before I pass this up."
Kally rolled her eyes in a decidedly Hermione-like gesture. "Lovely."
"Come on Kal," he tried, "I am interested, even if you are a grouch before breakfast." The last part was muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.
Her lips fell apart, staring at him aghast.
Harry waggled his eyebrows.
Kally sighed, allowing a wane smile. Sometimes she forgot how infuriating he could be, and the fact that he was like that because he wanted to know something about her sent her stomach squirming. So…where'd she gained an interest in that? "My mother," she said plainly.
For once she didn't feel a stab of pain with the memory, but she didn't miss the way Harry's expression dropped, growing guarded. She shrugged artlessly, murmuring, "She was a teacher, like my dad, and liked to weave that kind of thing into lessons." Flickering her eyes back out the window she wryily added, "Anywhere we went she was always prattling on about it. Drove my dad nuts, bored the living bones out of my brothers. Dad taught science so it made sense he'd get bored, what with the chattering about the arch work, or cloisters, or spires, or machicolations…"
Surprisingly she felt herself smile.
Potter frowned, mouthing something to himself before trying to repeat, "Macheeo-makao-" he stopped trying. "Gesundheit."
She let out a laugh, eyes sparkling as she studied Potter, the wizard studying her right back. Eventually, inevitably they both wound up returning their attentions to the window and the snow falling gently outside.
It was chillingly beautiful.
For the five days that she'd been awake she'd heard the ocean's sound, seen glimpses through Ariana's bedroom window, but it hadn't prepared her for how serene it actually was.
Kally leaned her face against the cool glass, the bay window wide enough to let her look down the remote beach's length. They appeared to be surrounded by a mystical-looking forest, the dark sand and rocks a small alcove amongst it. Kally could see the saltwater waves butting against the treeline, the forest itself made of silvery bark and silver-coated, ice-covered leaves that seemed to stretch out forever.
Kally let out a content sigh, clutching the still steaming mug of apple cider in hand, her red and green hair slipping out from behind her ears to veil her face. It was awhile before she once more felt the intensity of his gaze upon her, Kally glancing over to find Harry no longer interested in the snow. The strength of his gaze, the utterly calm scrutiny of those green eyes had her feeling uncharacteristically nervous, her pulse quickening. "What?" she asked, feeling suddenly like a small child.
Potter gave her a bemused look. "What's the matter, Kaylens?" he asked, humor infiltrating his voice. "Nervous?"
She widened her eyes at him in silent exasperation.
Harry merely smirked, before his expression softened, brow furrowing thoughtfully. "You really do love the water," he observed, "don't you?"
There was something different, something off about this, about the way he looked at her, about the things that he said. Harry was different, and Kally constantly felt like he knew more than he was saying. Given he was from the future he probably did.
Kally wet her lips, an unsettled feeling swirling within her, mixing with the warmth of having him nearby. "Yes," she said simply. "Doesn't everyone?"
To her surprise he actually shrugged, the firm lines of his muscles moving beneath Dumbledore's old jumper. "Dunno. Honest, probably could take it or leave it, but you like it, so…" The corner of his mouth quirked in a half grin.
"I like it, so you like it?" She arched an eyebrow. "Gods, Potter, that's cheesy even for you."
Potter met her gaze and smirked. "I'm alone with my girlfriend in a secret cottage on Christmas, sitting in a window cozy watching the ocean in my pajamas," he told. "Think we hit cheesy four days ago and launched right into sickeningly cute right about when you still needed help changing your socks."
Potter might be kidding, but he actually had helped her change her socks. When she'd first woken up Regulus had started her on a regimen of bone healing potions, the potions something that had to be drank and couldn't be magically spelled whilst someone slept. Every tiny movement had ached until they'd taken full effect, healing her, and Harry…
Harry'd flat out refused to leave.
He'd grabbed her foot and glared when she'd so much as tried to change her socks herself.
Kally's insides twisted in an incredibly strange way. Wetting her lips, she told with a small smile, "You break every one of your ribs and see how you feel trying to bend your legs." She gave a miniscule, mock shudder. "Really Harry, you don't think about it, but putting on socks is like playing at low-level contortion artist."
He shot her a knowing grin. "Taken dives off my broom during Quidditch matches. Don't have to sell me on how much moving hurts after that."
Looking at him, relaxing directly across from her in the window seat, something inside her twisted riotously at the idea of him getting hurt. "Exactly how many times has that happened?" she questioned suspiciously.
Harry Potter shot her an insufferable grin and ignored the question. "Speaking of socks," he far too casually dodged, drumming his fingers on his knee, "been meaning to ask, what's with you always having your toenails painted?" He cocked his head like a curious dog, snow falling outside. "No offense, but you never struck me as particularly girly."
Her lips fell apart in silent reproach, Kally letting out a startled laugh at his brazenness. She was torn between asking if his number of Quidditch falls was in the double digits and kicking him for implying she wasn't enough of a girl for him. "You'd tell me," she questioned, half regretting it, "if it was over ten, right?"
"You really want the answer to that?" he tossed back, pressing, "So, toes. What's up with that?"
Once more her mouth fell open, sputtering. "My god…it's over ten isn't it?"
Harry just wiggled his socked foot at her, taking a long sip from his mug.
Kally about choked. "Hexing…so much hexing."
Harry swallowed the warm liquid, closing his eyes as if savoring it. "Mmm, empty threat Kal. You can't hex."
She glared, holding up a solitary finger around her mug. "First you imply I'm not girly enough," she ticked up a second finger, "then you insult my lack of magic? You're either feeling very brave or very lucky."
"Let's go with luck. And never said you weren't girly enough, just pointed out you aren't particularly girly."
Her eyes instantly narrowed, tone slightly dangerous. "Should I be insulted by that?"
"Depends," he replied far too calmly, "do you harbor a secret desire to obsessively giggle and a lifelong dream to spend hours in the loo getting ready for the clearly life changing event of taking breakfast in the Great Hall, or not?" He widened his eyes as if it were a shockingly important event.
Kally closed her eyes and silently reminded herself that while he was describing half the girls that had been in the dorm, that he was a good wizard and not deserving of being hexed.
Harry shrugged. "Look, you don't wear makeup or dress up…ever," he emphasized, her eyes flying open to eye him, "and I still want to jump you. Hell Kaylens, you ever decide to start wearing dress robes and playing with blush and we're in serious danger of winding up with more kids than the Weasley's by thirty."
Kally nearly dropped her wreath-patterned coffee mug, sputtering on a laugh. "What?"
"You heard me." Harry shot her a far too smug smirk.
There was a lot of information there, Kally struggling on what to fixate on first. Finally…
"How on earth do you know what blush is?"
He shrugged. "Ginny." Then he once again pointedly wiggled his socked feet. "So…what's up with your toes?"
Kally could only stare in slight shock, too stunned to not laugh. "You're unrelenting…" she breathed in awe.
"And yet, you keep trying to dodge."
"You'd get bored," she told with a mischievous smile, "if I made this easy."
Potter appeared to mull it over. "So…you're saying I should cut my losses and go find that veela to snog then?"
She made a noise that sounded very much like an angered wolf.
"Ah, so you are jealous."
"I don't," she echoed his words from the day prior, "like to share. Now what's with all the questions?" She tilted her head, a green and gold strand falling in front of her eyes.
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. His brow creased, and though the wizard didn't so much as move from his position, she practically felt the change in him. It looked like he was trying to decide what to say.
Whatever his internal debate was, he eventually settled on something with a determined look. "Decided awhile ago," he divulged, "that I wanted to get to know you." Potter's chest tensed imperceptively beneath his shirt, his expression uncharacteristically unreadable. "Not that I don't, but…knowing your habits, that's a hell of a lot different than knowing what things you used to like before everything went balls up."
At the last phrase his mouth twitched, almost strangely, as if in on a private joke.
"Potter…" she murmured, eyes flickering upon his face. The way he was looking at her sent her chest leaping, eyes softly bemused. "Now you sound like Dean."
Surprisingly Harry didn't look irritated at the comparison; instead he smirked. "Suspect I might," he disclosed cagily, nodding at the cup in her hand. "You done with that?"
Kally glanced down at the mug, surprised to find it empty. At some point she'd lost track during their teasing. "Yeah," she nodded, moving to set it down-
Potter leaned forward, intercepting. He took it, purposefully setting it on the ledge above the window seat, right alongside his own empty cup, then eyed her as if planning something. She opened her mouth to ask exactly what, but he beat her to it.
"Not used to not being able to just grab you," he revealed. "Bit rough, to be honest, which is making this whole 'you being injured' thing one hell of an exercise in restraint."
Harry looked distinctly put out, Kally actually smiling. "You know there is this thing called using your words, Potter. You could just ask me to move if you want me over there."
"Fine then, let's do that."
Shaking her head, she carefully shifted her legs, twisting around in the window seat. She was halfway turned when Potter's hands grabbed firmly onto her hips, tugging her abruptly across the cursedly comfortable cushion, her trip ending abruptly as her back thudded against his chest.
She let out an amused breath. "So much for letting me move on my own."
Potter's mouth brushed against the back of her ear. "I'm impatient," he half-growled. "And besides…nothing in your waist was broke."
She shook her head, melting against him and closing her eyes. "Mmm, fortunately for me only trivial things like my spleen got hurt."
Her pillow appeared to be growling, its arms winding tightly, yet carefully around her form. "You forgot," it stated, sounding slightly irritated, "your liver, your kidney, your lung, part of your small intestines and something," it nipped at the back of her ear, "that you no longer have called the gallbladder."
Potter's voice was raw. His words had been slow measured, rather like he wanted to make sure she remembered the plethora of damage she'd gotten from refusing to let go of Lestrange's hand.
Kally remembered. Nearly dying was hard to forget. "Put it that way," she murmured, "you might as well have traded me in for a new model."
"I don't want," Harry growled, "another model."
"Say that now," she attempted to tease, "just wait until it's a limb I'm missing. I also hear you're rather fond of my toes."
Hot breath was instantly against her ear, Harry's voice as rough as his words, "Not funny, woman."
Kally turned her head to look at him, a weak smile playing upon her lips. "Take it," she speculated weakly, "we're not joking about this yet?"
Harry just narrowed his piercing green eyes, all hints of humor vanished. "Losing you," he affirmed lowly, "is not something I will ever joke about."
Her heart skipped.
Harry's didn't. He pushed his face up against hers, clenching her to him in a vice. Kally's breath hissed in surprise at the force, but she didn't care. Harry needed this. Hell, so did she. Kally didn't regret what she'd done, but knowing what it'd done to Harry…
He'd shown her back at Hogwarts, whilst she lay in the grass, what he'd done, the lengths he'd gone to, to make sure she didn't die. He'd torn Carrow and Lestrange into pieces, his handsome face scarcely recognizable. His body had dripped in thick, dark blood, not all of it red, not all of it his, the way his entire face had broken when he'd looked back at her, seeing her limply laying there with Regulus in that clearing…
She couldn't imagine what nearly losing her minutes later, once he'd thought they were finally safe, had done to him.
Kally's hand came up at the awkward angle, it hard to touch him given she was laying with her back against his chest, but her fingertips found his unshaven cheek. The dark stubble was a reminder of how badly she'd affected him, of how badly she never wanted him to feel again. "I'm sorry I scared you," she apologized. "I should have waited, trusted you or Dumbledore to stop him from taking the horcru-"
Harry's mouth met hers, silencing her.
It silenced her for awhile.
In that calm, comforting moment everything was perfect.
When they broke away, some minutes later, Kally found her hair tousled, wispy strands of green and gold hanging in front of her eyes. Potter too was slightly flushed, his perpetually impossible hair sticking up in every conceivable direction, his pajamas wrinkled from where one of her hands had managed to clutch onto the shirt.
For a second he looked at her, green holding gold, before a vague smile touched his face.
One slowly touched hers as well, Kally settling back against Harry in that windowsill, the two falling silent as they watched the snow falling outside. Eventually Harry's hand found hers, fingers interlacing firmly between her own, his calluses from years of Quidditch followed by incessant dueling brushing roughly against her softer skin.
It was enough to send her shivering, only it was not from the cold.
It wasn't until Harry began to play with her hair, smoothing the colorful strands one-by-one away from her face, tucking them behind her ears, that she felt her eyelids growing heavy. Their legs remained tangled up, the scent of burning pine lingering in the air, drifting out from the fire, Kally's eyes closing contentedly.
Things with Potter…they were good. They may be rushed, chaotic, terrifying, illogical, and dangerous, but above all they were good.
She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he loved her.
Funny that she was still taken aback, given she loved him.
She knew him. She knew so much about him: how he reacted, how he dueled, how he kissed, how he argued, how he slept, and yet…
She knew very little actually about him.
Harry's knuckles brushed against the side of her face, what he'd said stirring a sodding need deep inside her. He wanted to get to know her, to really know her.
And she wanted to know him.
She wet her lips, squirming until her cheek rested against his chest, her own hand reaching blindly up to play in his hair. "Tell me something," she requested, "something I don't know."
Harry's knuckles momentarily stilled against her cheek. "There's a spell," he finally uttered, "that puts a ferret in your opponents pants. Used to be an old game called ferret-legging, so some twisted bastard made a spell for it. Migalein braccas."
Kally's eyes opened, her face a perplexed frown. "Those poor ferrets."
Behind her Harry snorted. "Tell me about it." His hand slid down, tracing her chin. "Feeding them to that thestral of yours would be kinder."
She peered up at him, golden irises narrowing in silent scolding. "It's not his fault he likes those. That's Hagrid's."
Harry eyed her skeptically through the bottom of his magical glasses. "Sure it is. You haven't at all enabled him by smuggling them to him as treats either."
"Someone," she stated clearly and distinctly, "has to feed him."
Potter's dark eyebrows both inclined simultaneously. "Pretty sure the phrase 'wild herd' implies they hunt."
"Hagrid gives them treats," she countered, "to keep them tame enough to pull the carriages."
Harry sniffed dubiously. "Uh huh. And him enjoying dangerous pets has nothing to do with it, I'm sure."
Still peering up, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Well, it's either that or we could just let them maul the poor behaving sixth years. I hear," she continued, as if divulging a terrible secret, "there is even a sixth year wizard that threatened to shove the witch he was arguing with right out of the carriage, on their first day of school." She widened her eyes for emphasis. "Shocking, isn't it?"
Forest green eyes narrowed. "Don't recall ever telling you I fantasized about doing that."
"You didn't," she said slyly, "but thanks for confirming."
Potter growled. "If I recall, you tried to jump out first," he pointed out. He drummed his fingers pointedly against the side of her head, as if thinking, before affrontedly adding, "Then fell on me!"
Reaching up she swatted at his fingers. "Still sour about that I see?"
"Only because I didn't get a snog out of it."
"Too bad," she mused, "I guarantee that would have gotten me to shut up for the rest of the carriage ride."
The sound Harry made was so disappointed that she actually laughed. Outside sunlight began to creep up the beach, the sun having risen enough to finally cast rays far enough to do that. The frost and light speckling of snowfall sparkled like diamonds everywhere the light touched.
"You know," Kally cogitated, "you never did tell me something about yourself. You just babbled about ferrets."
"You didn't ask about me, you just said to tell you something you didn't know." His fingers gave her ear a playful tug. "Didn't realize how well acquainted you were with ferret legging."
Damn him for sounding so amused. Kally reached up and snared his fingers to spare her earlobe, dragging his arm pointedly around her. Potter needed no further direction. He wrapped her in a reverse bear hug, dragging her up higher on his chest, her breath coming out in a swift huff with the movement. "Speaking of," she posed, "do I want to know how you became such an expert on ferret legging?"
"Probably not."
"And if I did?"
"You'd learn way too much about Seamus' perverse interests and hear way too much about my uncle's drinking habits."
Her lips parted with question, only to snap shut. Nothing good could come from that line of inquiry. "That still doesn't explain," she pointed out, snuggling against him, "how you knew the actual spell for it."
To her surprise Harry smirked. "Well that's easy."
She lifted an eyebrow.
"I used it on Ron."
Kally sputtered on a laugh, shaking her head and finding Potter's immediately buried alongside her own, his handsome face lit up in a rare grin. "Should have seen him," he muttered directly into her ear, "fourth year, couple days before the first Triwizard tournament task, covertly hexed him on my way out of breakfast. Even Hermione missed it."
Now Kally actually giggled, uncharacteristically and happily. "You're lucky," she said. "Hermione would have hexed you."
"Mmm, reckon I would have been fine. Those two weren't snogging yet. Plus helped that Ron wasn't talking to us. Witch still was on my side."
Still smiling, turning her head back slightly, so that her nose pressed up against his cheek, she murmured against his skin, "Think she still is given you said she helped you here with me, hrm?"
The deep chuckle resonating from Harry's chest softened, his brow growing contemplative. "Nearly forgot," he told, tightening his hold on her waist, wordlessly conveying his request for her to not move as he rooted around in his pocket. "Got you something."
Out of his pajamas he extracted a gold and red wristlet, Harry's arms coming firmly around her to snare her left hand. "Hold still," he requested, draping it around her wrist. His forearms rested against her sides, his fingers brushing against the delicate underside of her wrist as he attempted to tie it in place. An unbidden shiver coursed through her, goosebumps rising over her skin.
Potter noticed. "Problem, Kaylens?" he muttered, face turned to speak against her hair.
She didn't respond. Warm lips brushed against her ear, Kally's breathing going ragged. His fingers fumbled blindly against her wrist, Harry too engrossed, too preoccupied with other things as his mouth dropped, breath ghosting against her delicate skin. Kally craned her neck to allow him better access, her eyes fluttering closed as his mouth lowered even further, the wizard indulging with his lips, the movements of his fingers, their attempt to tie a simple knot slowing. He struggled with far more than he should be allowed without some form of teasing. "Problems Potter?" she echoed breathlessly.
He made a sound against her skin. "In case you haven't noticed," he pointed out dryly, "I'm trying to give you a present." With a triumphant sound he gave one side of the soft bracelet a tug, as if it were firmly tied, and then-
It dropped right off her wrist and onto her outstretched leg.
Potter cussed. Loudly.
With a laugh Kally reached down and claimed it. The moment she did it felt warm to the touch, as warm as she felt from Potter's ministrations, the wristlet radiating out a subtle, soft heat. It was a stark contrast to the icicles hanging just outside their window. Gently Kally ran her fingertips across the tightly wound material. It was like touching feathery, delicate silk, everything about it impossibly soft.
As she turned it between her fingers the coloration seemed to flash. Golds and reds gleamed unnaturally upon it, it looking like three things had been braided together, her brow fretting as she tried to figure out what it was made from. Harry, breathing more heavily than the small kisses warranted, merely moved his hands along her sides as he waited for her to figure it out.
She was embarrassed when she realized what it was, given how long it'd taken her to recognize it.
"Fawkes," she breathed, head turning so fast she nearly whacked Harry in the nose. "Is this…is this made of Fawkes' feathers?"
"Yeah," he confirmed, shooting her a look and snagging it from her, once more attempting to tie it upon her. This time he determinedly kept his mouth away from her skin. "Phoenix feathers are pretty strong, so...figured this would work."
Leaning into him, holding her hand up ever-so-slightly so as to help him, she wet her lips. "Work for what?"
His fingers paused, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. He seemed to hesitate, then… "Back in second year, Ginny got drug into this chamber beneath the school by Voldemort. Fawkes carried both of us, Ron and even this insane DADA Professor we had out all at the same time, so…" Harry cast her a look out of the corner of his eyes, something mildly amused glinting within it. "Given how accident prone you are, figured if Fawkes' feathers could stand up to that, ought to survive anything you could throw at it."
His mouth twitched dangerously, her wizard not looking at all apologetic.
Thing was she couldn't even argue with his logic. Her own lips twitched right back. "Damn Potter, that's…shockingly thoughtful."
Harry shot her a wry look. "As opposed to me being not?" he questioned dryly. "Can't decide if I should be offended or not."
"Maybe just a little."
Potter growled, his mouth pressing abruptly to hers, all attempts to tie it to her wrist abandoned for several moments. It wasn't until he broke away, parting for breath that she realized it wasn't just the braided feathers. "Harry," she questioned, "what else is on there?" There were three tiny stones embedded into one end, looking to be at the ends of the feathers where they'd been spelled together: green, black and gold.
At the question Harry smirked somewhat smugly. "That," he told, "was the hard part."
Kally waited for an explanation, for something, but received none. Eventually she made an exasperated sound, Harry's smirk only growing. "Okay," he said, "it has a tracking charm in it." Fingering each tiny stone in turn, he muttered, "Latitude, longitude and elevation." Shooting her a knowing look, he dryly pressed, "That way if you decide to take any more walks in the Forbidden Forest at night and conveniently neglect to tell anyone but Regulus, it'll be easier to find you."
Her eyes flickered quickly to the present, a silent sort of shock coursing through her. "Location charms?" her head whipped back around, green and red strands of hair whacking him in the face. "You can do that?"
Potter made a show of rubbing his left eye, which had been whacked. "Your confidence in me is shocking Kaylens."
She widened her eyes in pointed impatience.
Harry just cracked one eye, peering at her from around his hand. Then his mouth twitched. "Fine, Hermione showed me how."
Showed him? Kally immediately latched onto that operative word, her brow furrowing more, Harry's free hand still rubbing along the inside of her wrist, the wristlet still unfastened and caught between their hands. "But…Hermione hasn't been here since..." she trailed off, realization coursing through her. Harry had told her what had happened, how Hermione had helped him transfer some of his magic to her, to help heal her. So Harry couldn't do magic right now. His reserves were still rebuilding, which meant he must have made this before, before Hermione left, before they'd even known she'd survive, before-
Kally's heart was racing so, so fast that she felt out of breath. "You made me a present," she whispered, eyes searching his, "before you even knew I'd live?"
Harry lowered his hand away from his eye. "Your point?"
Kally could only stare at him, uncertain of exactly what to say. "You really don't get it," she whispered, "do you?" Why this present in her hand meant so sodding much all of a sudden. Shaking her head, she told, stunned, "Harry, what if I hadn't-"
He interrupted her. "You were always going to live, Kaylens." His jaw set, working through a series of strained movements before grinding, "You not…that wasn't an option. Alright?"
With that he reclaimed her hand, plucking the bracelet out from between her fingers, his gaze determinedly avoiding hers.
"Harry."
His hands had wrapped around her slender wrist, making no move to actually twine the gift to her. Instead his fingers dug into her pulse point, his eyes closed, Kally knowing full well what he was doing: reassuring himself.
She wet her lips, voice more determined. "Harry."
This time he actually let out a breath, malachite eyes siding to hers. Kally immediately twisted in his arms, her free hand taking a firm hold of his chin. "I'm alright, Harry. Thanks to you." She smiled. "I promise."
Harry's bright eyes did not try to look away. Instead he reached up, pulling her hand away from his chin to claim it in his, giving it a hard squeeze.
She simply raised both her eyebrows, granting him an expectant grin. "So?"
He immediately frowned. "So what?"
"Are you going to help me with my present, or not?"
It took a second, then another.
Then the shadow in his eyes vanished, Harry snorting outright. "Not one," he observed, "for patience, are you?"
"No," she said guilelessly.
Again Potter snorted, glancing back down at her hand and the braided feathers. "I made you jewelry," he stated dryly. "Reckon they'll take my man-card for this." Then he heaved a sigh, Kally laughing as he picked up her hand and again tried to tie it on, Harry downright bad at it.
She could only watch him work, the thoughtfulness staggering. Fawkes had even helped. Her eyes instantly darted to his. "Harry, about Fawkes…"
Potter shot her a questioning look.
"Please tell me you didn't pluck him to make me this?"
Harry stared at her as if she'd gone mad.
Then he shook his head, as if unsure what to make of her. "Plucking a phoenix is a bit harder than plucking a chicken Kaylens."
She made an exasperated sound, Potter snorting outright.
"Bird decided to molt," he assured, resuming tying it to her, "so…figured I'd repurpose these before someone could snatch them up to make a wand out of them."
"Someone? I certainly hope you weren't referring to me," came a distinct, aristocratic drawl from the doorway.
Potter didn't even react, but Kally's head darted up, finding Regulus Black looming in the door adjoining the kitchen, eyeing them with unmasked disgust. In his right hand he held a tall-stemmed wine glass, the wine half drank, and in his other was a Muggle-style pancake flipper. An apron with a moving image of a dancing elf covered in Christmas lights was wrapped around his front, reindeer antlers adorned his head, the wizard looking entirely out of place as various baubles blinked and flashed all over his otherwise pristine clothing.
It looked like he'd gotten in a fight with Dobby and lost.
Kally couldn't help but grin, whilst Potter simply snorted, not even looking up and thereby missing the display. "Nah," he said, clearly concentrating on tying the bracelet, "you'd be more inclined to use them as potions ingredients."
Black heaved a long suffering sigh. "Phoenix feathers are relatively useless for potions, Potter. It's little wonder Snape finds your lack of knowledge infuriating."
Harry's fingers continued to work at the bracelet, his rough fingers finally succeeding in binding it. At that Harry did look up.
And caught sight of Black.
He sputtered, choking on a laugh. "My god," he muttered, eyeing the spectacle, "I don't even know where to start."
"I am not above slipping poison into your food," Black reminded unpleasantly.
"So," Harry grinned, not feeling threatened in the least, "take it Dobby won the row this morning and did choose your dining wardrobe?"
"Another word, Potter," Black snarled, pointing the spatula at him, "and a flick of my wand will render you permanently incapable of breeding."
Harry's mouth snapped shut, but not before a choked chortle escaped.
Then he choked out something crass about that being a wand or a spatula, and no wonder Black couldn't tell the difference.
"My condolences," Casper muttered, words now directed to her, "on your future spinsterhood." With that his wand suddenly appeared in hand, aiming in the general vicinity of Potter's nether regions, which – given the fact that Potter had been holding her between his legs and against his chest - Kally was basically leaning on. "If you'd do me the favor of moving…"
Her eyes shot wide, the Reach quickly moving – but not out of the way - and holding up a placating hand. "Regulus, come on….you don't want to do that. Just think of the mess…."
Black growled like a rabid animal.
Behind her Potter simply laughed.
Fawkes choose that moment to fly into the room, the fiery phoenix trilling as if egging them all on, not particularly caring which side he was actually on.
ECOTS
December 31st, 1996
"I still feel bad I didn't get you anything."
Crouched in front of the fireplace near an abandoned card game, Harry poked the embers with an aluminum hanger. In lieu of precise magic and fire pokers, he'd resorted to this. "Of course," he said slowly, "because people in comas are expected to get Christmas shopping done. Mind refreshing my memory on how exactly that's done again?"
His girlfriend, from her spot sitting cross-legged on the floor, lifted her eyes and practically pouted. "You still managed."
Harry looked at Kaylens as if she'd gone quite mad. "I wasn't in a coma." He felt the need to point this out, in small and easily understood words, on account she'd obviously forgotten that trivial point.
Lips he knew impossibly well parted, as if to argue, only to fall back shut as she realized she didn't have an argument for that. Even her hair, pinned up and still colorfully streaked, seemed to deflate, a dark green tendril slipping to fall in front of her eyes as if it too, were pouting. "You were still stuck here."
"Co-ma," he repeated, sounding it out, just in case she hadn't understood the two very basic syllables.
Kaylens made a non-committal sound, as if not fully accepting of his response.
Harry was left with no other recourse than to shoot a pleading look towards Black, who was currently reclined in a conjured rocking chair, sipping on champagne he'd pilfered from a town or two over. "I saying it wrong or is this just how the feminine species operates?"
From her spot on the floor Kaylens growled a little.
"You are the one," Black stated flatly, "who made the asininely suicidal decision to date her." The specter of Sirius paused, glancing down towards Kaylens to drawl, "No offense, but even you must admit it's caused him nothing but trouble."
Kally slowly reached back into her hair, her fingers wrapping around the freakishly sharp skeleton key that she'd found in a dresser drawer and repurposed into a hair pin, as if longing to use it.
With one last prod at the fire, Harry shoved himself away from it and snagged her wrist just in time. Her long tresses tumbled down around her shoulders, freed from the skeleton key's confines, her fingers tightly clamped around the sharp, metal object. Spotting the irritated look she shot him, Harry found himself enunciating, "No, you can't kill him."
Champagne colored eyes narrowed in irritation. "Spoilsport."
"Fine," he challenged, releasing her hand, "but you're the one explaining to Dumbledore why there's a bloodstain."
That appeared to give her pause, Harry seizing the momentary lapse in her homicidal thoughts to drop down alongside her, plucking the key right out of her hand.
"Hey!"
"You'll get this back," he told, sounding freakishly like McGonagall, "when you've stopped fantasizing about murder."
Kally shot him a look. "You are so not getting snogged at midnight."
"Oh goodie," Regulus Black drawled, staring at his glass forlornly, "I'm trapped here for the teenage squabble."
Harry suppressed the urge to give the sharp object back to the dark creature he was dating. "Remind me why you're here again?" he asked his godfather's ghost. "No one's keeping you."
Black swirled the champagne, sighing. "There is nothing else to do."
Right...Harry didn't trust that response at all. First, ever since Kaylens had woken up Black had spent a disturbing amount of time in the cellar under the guise of working. While the Dumbledore's had a rather extensive potions set up, Harry hadn't been fooled; Black was trying to give them actual space. Had they been at Hogwarts, with Lupin or Moody, Harry waged he'd have been chased out of Kaylens room by now, but he hadn't been. Hell, had Black not been the one doing it Harry might have thanked him. As it was, the man didn't respond to gratitudes well, so they had a running bet on what Black could actually be doing down there instead.
Right now Harry's galleons were on sacrificing small creatures to collect their blood for potion's ingredients, to sell for later profit.
Kaylens simply thought he was manufacturing poison. It could be for either the two of them or him, but she'd reasoned if he got irritated enough he wouldn't be overly particular about which party drank it, so long as it got him some peace and quiet.
Second, and most importantly, Black had been acting increasingly surly on the rare instances they had seen him over the past several days. Most oddly he'd deigned to make a prolonged appearance tonight, the New Year a few hours away, but he'd shown up fairly sloshed.
Harry didn't understand it, and he wasn't about to try. In a few short hours it would 1997. This would be the year they killed four horcruxes; it would be the year he died, the year Kaylens contracted the plague, the year Voldemort destroyed her body, the year the Weasleys lost a fifth of their family.
It was also the year he weakened Voldemort, the year he saved Kally, the year he died, the year that his life would be saved by the two people in this very room, and the year - with luck - that he made Kaylens permanently his.
Staring into the flames, he swallowed thickly.
Black merely made a dissatisfied sound.
Right. Black was still there, the card game they'd attempted to cajole him into long since abandoned in front of the hearth.
Harry's gaze cut towards him. "How about a mood enhancer?" he suggested, in no way kidding. "Potion's simple enough and might spare Dumbledore having to tear remnants of your murder out of his floor." He doubted a few scourgifies would be able to rid it of 'chunks of Regulus' if Kaylens got too provoked. Then again, judging from the insults Black was tossing liberally out about oversized chickens, Fawkes might be the one to tear him to shreds. A mood enhancing potion seemed just the thing.
Ariana's portrait nodded animatedly.
"I am out of supplies," Black stated miserably, "and wine. Antagonizing the two of you whilst imbibing this subpar libation seemed far better than staring at the rather bland wall alone."
Harry's mouth opened, then closed. It took him a second to process that Black had actually just admitted to enjoying their company, in a twisted sort of way.
"Huh," Kally said intelligibly, "he does have a soul."
Harry's glance slid to the side, eyeing her. "Aren't you the one who usually gets along with him?"
Kaylens shrugged artlessly, the silken, striped pajamas she'd taken to basically living in clinging to her. "Usually. Depends on my mood."
"Well," Harry muttered, "you're no help."
Kally gave a disinterested, "Meh," as if not concerned about the state of Regulus Black.
"Perhaps," Black stated, sounding bored, "I will make one after I have finished this bottle."
Harry shot Kaylens an alarmed look. "Does he typically brew after drinking? And if so, what are the odds he'll set the place on fire?"
She just shook her head, gnawing on her lip in slight worry. "He hasn't drank this much since Grimmauld."
"Being surrounded by so many indolents at that school has left me little time for boredom," he responded with hawkish hearing.
"Oh great," he dead panned, "he can still hear."
The lip Kally was gnawing on twitched into a tiny smile.
They fell quiet. The fire gave a loud pop, clearly dying despite their earlier attempts to prod it back to life. Harry glanced at it and gave his little finger a contemptuous flick.
A roar filled the hearth, the colorful flames Dobby had enchanted shooting up into the chimney, casting warmth into what had once been Ariana's bedroom. Alongside him Kaylens closed her eyes, the sudden burst of heat sending strands of her hair fluttering in it. The reds of the flickering flames lent a warm glow to her still pale face, a small smile touching her lips as she let out a sigh.
He released a breath of his own, gaze drawn to the way the pajamas clung to her form. It'd been almost a fortnight, and Harry still hadn't gotten over how it was possible for Kaylens to look good in pajamas from the eighteen hundreds. He could only conclude that either Ariana or Mrs. Dumbledore must have had good taste.
"Remind me," he said absently, "to send Dumbledore a thank you note."
Kally cracked her eyes curiously, a knowing smile curving her lips. "Saying what? Your dead sister's pajamas are sexy? Are you really that eager to have the most powerful wizard of our time after you on top of Voldemort?"
The thought of a she-Dumbledore was nearly enough to make him shudder. "Why do you always have to go and make it weird?" he groused.
"Where's the fun if I can't make you squirm just a little?" she questioned, eyes widening with barely restrained mischief. Then those hazel irises flickered over him, a tiny frown on her face. "Wish I could say the same for yours, but young Dumbledore's clothing covers far too much of you."
Harry looked down at himself. He was wearing another one of Albus' old jumpers, another obnoxious A on the front of it. It reminded him, oddly, of the Christmas jumpers Mrs. Weasley knitted all of them, and he oddly rather liked it. "What's wrong with this?" he questioned.
She shrugged shamelessly. "It exists?"
Harry sputtered at the fact that Kaylens clearly wanted to strip him.
"I'm in hell," Black spoke, carrying on a dialogue with himself. "Evidently I drank myself to death in my mother's basement and this, oh higher power, is my purgatory."
Kally's brow furrowed with concern. "How much of that has he had to drink?"
Harry managed the herculean effort of focusing on his girlfriend's literal words – quite the feat given he'd actually seen Kaylens naked and had far too good an imagination when it came to her – but he managed it. She'd asked something about alcohol... "A non-issue," he heavily concluded. "If there's going to be stripping, I say we give him more liquor. Wouldn't want to scar him more than he already is."
Kaylens halfheartedly smacked his arm.
"Can't help but notice you didn't say no."
This time the smack was a little less halfhearted, Harry barking out a laugh. "What?" he said innocently. "You can keep the bracelet on. Won't be entirely naked."
His girlfriend's eyes went wide, darting to the red and gold present dangling from her wrist, before she made a tiny growling noise.
Harry wasted no time in shutting her up with his mouth.
The two sat there, side by side on the floor, kissing intermittently and simply watching the flickering fire. Near the hearth Fawkes curled up on the ground like a chicken, whilst the Great Horned owl slept in the corner near Regulus. It was recovering, thanks to Black, but slumbered a lot. Kaylens scooted closer, Harry welcoming her proximity in any way he could get.
The past eleven days had been calm. Harry wasn't used to calm. He wasn't used to getting to spend time with just Kaylens, without interruption, without fear of what the next day would bring. He never knew when they'd be separated, when one of them might leave, possibly die. That had been an ever-present fear since the moment he'd kissed her. What he did know was that this had been a reprieve, a fantasy realm that he'd eventually have to wake up from, one Kaylens wouldn't even remember.
The realization that she wouldn't remember their talks, their long whispering into the night, side-by-side in Ariana's small bed, gutted him. Harry was finally getting to know her, the way he wanted, and she wouldn't remember a thing.
His stomach lurched, for a moment, painfully.
He fought down all of that.
It was a long while before the flames again began to die out, Harry flicking a finger, sending the flames high in the hearth. Over the past couple of days he'd discovered that some of his wandless magic was slowly – emphasis on slowly – returning. Given his phoenix bond, the fact that fire control was first ought not have surprised him.
It still did.
He wasn't the only one to have noticed. Kally's brow furrowed, her head tilting against his shoulder. "Your magic's coming back," she observed.
"I told you," he said, "it would." Dropping his head on top of hers, he inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent. "Just takes awhile."
"Not," Black chimed in, "awhile. Four to twelve weeks, to be precise." The wizard considered them, adding, "Though knowing the ward's habit of breaking the curve, he'll no doubt be fully casting Patronuses by dinner."
Harry frowned. "We already had dinner, Black."
The wizard eyed his half-full glass with renewed interest. "In that case," he stated, standing up unsteadily, "I think it is time for a refill."
Harry and Kally watched as Regulus slowly staggered out of the room, even Fawkes lifting his head to throw a concerned look after the wizard. "He seems…" Harry began.
"Off," Kaylens finished for him.
At times Harry hated Black; at others the wizard was almost passably tolerable. Right not he wasn't sure what category the bastard fell into, but he found his arm slipping around Kaylens' form and tugging her close.
Kally nestled up against him, her soft breathing a pleasant sound amidst the crackling fire. Her golden colored eyes remained fixed out the bedroom door Regulus had just disappeared through, words a quiet murmur, "Do you ever wonder what happened to him? That made him leave the Death Eaters?" Her curious eyes flickered to his. "Sometimes I wonder if he's trying to drown it, make himself forget."
Harry had honestly never thought about it. "Dunno," he replied honestly. "Bastard better hope he never gets caught pissed by them though. Won't end well. The wine does crap for his dueling skills."
His girlfriend murmured a sound of agreement, her head resting against his shoulder. Harry's arm remained around her, his fingers tightening, then loosing rhythmically upon her sleeve. Firelight reflected from the still golden strands of her hair, dancing within her eyes, Harry almost disappointed when her dark lashes fluttered closed to hide them from him.
"Why is it," he finally asked, curious, "that Ariana's clothes seem to fit you better than your own?" He gave a pointed pluck at the silky pajama fabric, noting how the pajamas didn't slip completely from her shoulder or fall down to her knuckles. Instead the sleeves ended at her wrist, something he'd oddly noticed.
Kally gave a non-concerned shrug. "Because Cassilyda was taller than me?" Glancing towards the portrait of Ariana, the girl sitting in sand alongside the ocean and stacking up rocks like a cairn, Kally added, "Ariana and I must have been closer to the same size and height."
Harry frowned, processing that. "You mean Lupin's fiancée?" He winced, thinking of how Tonks would kick his ass if she heard that slip. "Ex-fiancée?" According to Lupin she'd died, years back, and he didn't get what she had to do with this.
Kalliandra sighed. "Harry," she began, trailing slender fingertips up along his forearm, "Death Eaters burned down my house. Do you think any of my clothes actually survived?" Her brow furrowed prettily, his girlfriend shaking her head against his shoulder. "Remus still had a bunch of Cassilyda's clothes from when they were in school. They fit close enough so, that worked."
Harry stared at the top of her head in bewilderment. "You haven't been wearing your own clothes?"
Kaylens let out a small sigh, lifting her face up to look at him. A peculiar expression had crossed her features. "No."
For some reason Harry's stomach dropped. He hadn't known, hadn't had a clue. "I thought Hagrid or Remus would have-"
His girlfriend's lips parted in sudden understanding, her lips curving sadly. "I'm an orphan, Harry," she gently reminded. "I'm also not eighteen. By Muggle world's standards that means I don't have any access to my parents' life insurance for almost another year, so funds for silly things like clothes weren't at the top of the list." She offered a weak smile. "It was nice of Remus, to let me use hers. Still can't believe he hung onto her clothes for all these years though. Kind of sweet, isn't it?"
Harry wasn't sure about sweet, morbid maybe but the fact that his girlfriend had been wearing hand-me-downs from literal decades, now a century prior had him stomach churn unpleasantly. He stared at her like he didn't know her. "Merlin, I was such an ass to you…" he said, thoughts of all the shit he'd said and assumed about her at the start of the year swirling in his head.
To his surprise she smiled. "Harry," she said, almost firmly, "borrowing clothes isn't the end of the world. Besides, I thought you liked them?" Arching a golden eyebrow, she had him there.
Harry took a deep breath, realizing that Kaylens had more in common with Ron and Ginny than he'd realized. Hand-me down and ill-fitting clothes, or in Kaylens' case ill-fitting shirts. "I do rather like," he admitted, "getting to see your collarbone a lot."
"And I like feeling like I'm swimming in my jumpers," she replied easily. "It's oddly comfy."
"Ever want to swim in a shirt you can borrow mine," he offered, dead serious. The idea of her wearing his clothes he oddly liked.
She narrowed her eyes as if mulling it over. "Alright," she agreed, her fingers rising to curl against the front of Albus' old jumper, brushing against his chest. "Take it off, Potter. You wouldn't want to deprive your poor, destitute girlfriend of warmth, now would you?" She batted her eyes.
The mischievous glint betrayed she was messing with him. From deep in his chest came a growl. "I can't believe I used to think you were shallow."
"It's not like you had any evidence to the contrary."
"Still…"
"You were also," she said guiltlessly, "a bit of an idiot."
Given that she hadn't been vain - the compact's mirror had been a two-way one to talk with Lupin; given she hadn't been a Death Eater – she'd simply not known what they were; and given she wasn't a spoiled brat – she was a broke orphan, Harry couldn't argue. Every single one of his preconceived notions he'd harbored about her had been completely wrong.
Realizing that he winced. "I'd be a terrible investigator."
Kaylens laughed, intuiting where his thoughts had gone. "You'll get better at it, Potter. You'll be a big bad Auror in no time." Then Kally gave his shirt another pointed tug, smiling as if expecting something.
Harry didn't need her to actually ask. With a smirk he twisted, pressing his mouth against hers for a rough, hard moment before breaking away to breathe, his forehead tilting against hers. "I don't think," he warned, "Black would react well if he came back and found me half-dressed snogging you."
Kaylens' lithe hand slid up, touching the side of his face, traveling maddeningly across it. "It would be a way to get him out of the room."
Harry choked on a laugh. "Assuming we lived."
"Oh you'd definitely be alive, Potter," she murmured promisingly, hand sliding into his hair. The way she shifted on the ground, pressing close in spite of her injuries…"Let's run him out. Please?"
Harry's pulse quickened, his face pressing close, nose bumping up alongside hers. Right now they sat on the floor of Ariana's old room, in front of the fire, innocently touching one another. Yet Harry's thoughts were anything but innocent. It'd been months since he'd touched her the way he wanted. "Kaylens," he croaked, "that's not….you have no idea what I would do if left alone in this room with you right now."
"Actually," she whispered, "I do." Irises of impossible gold met his, Kaylens so close that he could see the flecks of green and brown dancing within her colored eyes. There was something swirling there, something almost nervous.
His girlfriend shifted ever-so-slightly, her fingers now against his side, eyes lidded. "I was actually," she murmured in quiet continuation, "counting on it." Then, holding his gaze, her fingertips began trailing down, past his hip, brushing somewhere that had him hiss breath through his teeth.
Only then did Harry remember that this Kaylens had been only a week away from throwing herself at him.
Harry grabbed her hand, stopping her, the swirl of confusion in her gaze gutting. A pit, one that throbbed deep in his insides, reared its ugly head and demanded he grab her, throw her to the floor, then claim her until she forgot her own name. But he shouldn't. His breathing grew somewhat ragged, one hand clenching around her wrist, the other clenching within her hair as he kept her close. "Kaylens…you're still hurt-"
"I'm not," she countered, tugging her hand away and grabbing at his shirt, "going to break."
Harry snorted. "You actually might."
Kaylens ignored this, her mouth brushing against his, lips simply speaking against it in stark defiance. "Harry…after Black passes out-"
"You're also forgetting," he choked, "that I'll have to obliviate you." A lead-like dread formed in his stomach, Kaylens going instantly still as his gaze raked desperately across hers. His grip slid to fist meaningfully within her hair, gaze refusing to leave her as he spoke. "You deserve better than this only to have the memory removed." And the hell of it was he meant it. Even after months of not having her and wanting only this, suddenly having it…
In his mind Harry's libido was cussing him out.
Oddly Kaylens wasn't.
In his arms she sucked in a small breath, pulling away to look at him. Confusion coalesced with slight upset, Harry recognizing every emotion currently crossing her features. His throat tightened, Harry casting a cursory glance back towards the door to ensure Black wasn't returning.
Then he grabbed Kaylens face, smashing his lips to hers for a long, long moment. Kally whimpered, sliding closer, his assault of her mouth pausing only to growl, "Believe me…it's worth the wait."
Kaylens went near motionless, her breathing hitched. "So you mean we've-"
"Yeah," he huskily managed. "Oh yeah."
The way she was looking at him about broke his resolve.
Fortunately that was when Black walked back in, an entire bottle of champagne in hand along with two additional glasses. His feet did not so much as pause upon catching sight of the two teenagers practically on top of one another. "There was significantly less of this going on," he drawled, "when the flaxen haired one was knocked out." The wizard collapsed into the rocking chair, flicking his wand haphazardly and levitating two glasses clumsily through the air. "Since I am feeling generous I brought you minors a celebratory present."
Harry didn't even have time to jerk away from Kaylens; his hand shot up and snared the first then second stems inches from their faces, the wine goblets having been far too close to impaling them for comfort. The Gryffindor Seeker clenched his gaze and let out a seething sigh. "Black," he muttered darkly, "your aim sucks."
Then Harry slid his free hand through Kaylens' silky hair, pulling back reluctantly. "Later," he promised. "We'll talk later."
Wetting her lips, Kaylens nodded, a green stand of hair slipping forward to veil one eye.
Despite himself, despite the conversation Black had interrupted, Harry smirked, handing her one of the empty goblets. "M'lady," he drawled in imitation of an overly cultured aristocrat.
Her fingers brushed against his as she took it, crystalline gaze sparkling in the firelight. "Potter," she murmured, finally speaking, "you…you're something else."
Harry wasn't sure what exactly to make of that, but he forced a wry grin. "Duh."
This time it was Kally who sniffed in amusement, shaking her head with a casual eye roll. "Merlin…I'm stuck here with you for four months."
Harry shot her a sympathetic look. "I gave you the chance to run." He'd told her the same on the boat, months prior, only for her it hadn't happened yet. "Still could. Reckon it'd be pretty easy to ban me to another room."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Like Dobby would stand for that."
POP! "Did Misses call Dobby?"
Regulus grumbled something about baked house elf ears being a delicacy, Dobby leveling a look in his direction that would have sent smart men running. Kaylens just looked startled, Harry chuckling and dragging an arm around her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Hi Dobby."
Dobby's narrowed green eyes shifted from Casper to them, looking considerably more cheerful. "Master Harry Potter."
Still feeling awkward getting called that, Harry set his glass down to wrap both arms around Kaylens, who was still staring at Dobby like a deer in headlights. She never had gotten quite used to Dobby appearing out of nowhere. "Just Harry, Dobby."
The elf padded forward. "Did Harry Po-Harry need something?"
He shook his head with a bemused grin. "Nah Dobby, Kally was just mentioning ya. Why don't you join us? It's New Year's." The house elf had taken to cleaning the kitchen earlier, then gotten side tracked and started cleaning the hall, then the snow covered stoop leading to the beach, then-
Well, Harry didn't know where he'd gone after that, but he was beginning to worry that they'd have to tie the elf down to get him to hold still.
Dobby stared at them both. "Master Harry and Harry Potter's mate-" Kaylens made a choking sound, "-want Dobby to spend the holiday with them?"
Harry nodded. "We did Christmas. Why would New Year's be any different?"
Dobby's large green eyes filled with tears. "Master Ha-Harry is kind." The elf glanced towards Black, all trace of upset vanishing as he again glared. "Is Harry Potter certain that Master Black will not mind?" Even after all these years, the Malfoy's abuse had left Dobby reticent around purebloods.
"Yeah Dobby," Harry said with a Tonks-like grin, "Reggie'll love it. Won't you Reggie?"
"I fantasize," Black drawled, "about your murder."
Kaylens' head darted up, and Dobby growled.
Harry wondered if it were a blessing or a curse that he had so many people prone to potentially violent reactions over him. "He's kidding," he quickly placated.
"No," Black stated, "I'm not." Then with a snap of his fingers another bottle of champagne appeared.
"Black, what exactly," Kaylens questioned, squirming in Harry's arms to get more comfortable, "has put you in such a good mood?"
Regulus let out a semi-drunken snort. "I always celebrate the night of my first ever kill." His unfocused eyes shifted towards them, locking directly onto them. "Don't you? Killers and all…"
Dobby's growl got louder, the house elf taking a menacing step forward-
"It's okay Dobby," Harry quickly interceded.
Kaylens just shrugged, murmuring, "He's not wrong…don't exactly celebrate…" Then her eyes darkened, as if remembering something, his girl going quiet. Harry didn't have to ask what was on her mind, or who her first kill had been; he already knew: her brother.
It might have been an accident, it might have been due to magic she couldn't control, but it didn't change the fact that she'd drained him of life as he'd lain there dying. He'd seen it within her mind, and the way she closed her eyes, drawing away from him to wrap her arms around her knees left him helpless to fix it.
Of all the things he could fix, her body, her brain, her mood, this was something he couldn't.
Harry sighed. Well…this had been going well. At least they knew the reason for Black's dark mood. "Kally-"
"So," Kaylens murmured, interrupting him and propping her chin on her knees, "what's your New Year's resolution?" It wasn't clear who she was speaking to, but she seemed determined to change the subject, a shadow lingering within her eyes. Harry could only stare at her, her red, green and gold striped hair – courtesy of Dobby – hanging down loosely, framing her beautifully pale face. The way she sat, so insecurely, hugging her legs, the empty wine goblet hanging from between her fingers whilst her incredibly golden eyes glinted in the firelight…
Harry was fucking helpless to look away.
Kaylens simply inclined an eyebrow at his lack of response, leaving him to shrug. "Dunno, to snog you more?"
That at least, got a wane smile out of her. "Pretty much can guarantee that'll happen," she agreed, "but how about something real?"
He didn't have to ask what she meant by real. Harry's mouth went dry as he realized exactly what his goal would be. "To not die," he stated frankly, "more than once."
A startled look crossed her countenance, Harry shrugging besides her. "I told you I get hurt bad, Kaylens." Casting a look between her and Black, he added, "You both bring me back, so…thus not more than once."
His girlfriend closed her eyes and appeared to be invoking the names of Greek gods. Even Dobby caught it, sending him a curious look. "Is Misses Harry Potter's mate Greek?"
Harry choked on an out of place laugh. "Don't know, Kaylens, are you?"
She buried her face against her knees and groaned something that sounded distinctly like 'no.'
Harry shot Dobby a crooked grin. "There ya go."
Kaylens swore.
"I also resolve," Harry continued, "to not let anything else happen to you." His gaze rested firmly on the top of his girlfriend's head, Kally letting out a small laugh despite her darkened mood. There wasn't anything he could do about her nearly dying, catching the plague, or any of the injuries he knew she was bound to get, but he could make sure it was limited to that.
Her face lifted away from her knees, peering at him with a vague smile. "Fat chance, Potter. We have met, right?"
Harry shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
She snorted rather like Ginny.
Dobby appeared to be thinking, the elf sitting down alongside Harry with a slight frown. "What is a New Year's resolution?" he asked, mirroring the casual way Harry sat.
Harry was still pondering how to answer, when Kaylens did for him. "It's a goal," she said, "of something you want to accomplish or do, that'll be difficult, in the New Year."
Dobby nodded, tapping his small, crazily socked feet – one had rubber ducks on it and the other cupcakes – looking like he was thinking very hard. "Dobby would like to keep Harry Potter from harm." He glanced up. "And Harry Potter's mate. And Misses Hermione Granger, Master Ronald Weasley, Master Albus, and Misses Luna." The elf nodded decisively, as if that settled it. "Dobby would also like to learn how to make treacle pudding better than Winky."
Now it was Harry's turn to snort, the Seeker disguising his laugh as a cough. Once he got himself under control he glanced at Kaylens. "Kal?"
"I'd rather like to not kill anyone else." She didn't miss a beat, didn't hesitate. She fiddled with her wristlet, looking troubled. "Unless of course they really deserve it."
That last add on was rather frightening. "Remind me luv," he told, "to not piss you off."
She just tilted her head at him. "Luv?"
"New moniker," he lied. "You luv it."
Kaylens closed her eyes and groaned.
An aristocratic drawl rose up from the rocking chair. "I resolve to not murder either of you."
Harry and Kaylens' heads both darted towards him, along with a frowning Dobby. Kally too began to frown. "I think he's serious…"
"Of course I am," he drawled. The wizard continued to stare into the fire, pensive.
Then Regulus Black said something Harry never would have expected.
"I think it's time I told you about the Dark Lord, and everything I know about his horcruxes."
It took Harry a second to realize that he was serious.
There, in that small cottage by the sea, Regulus Black opened his mouth and spoke. They sat and listened, Harry's hand finding Kaylens on that New Year's night, his fingers tightly interlacing with hers as Black relayed something he'd neglected to tell anyone else yet.
It wasn't until Dobby whimpered and summoned the bottle of liquor for himself that Harry realized that they were well and truly screwed.
