25 km northwest of London
October 31, 2006
"Well, Daphne seems to be alright," Ginny said, "she just texted asking how to get to Weasleys."
"That's a relief," Harry responded without looking up, focused on cutting some dung root.
"Harry, you need to make them consistent or else you risk the potion turning sour early." Their host, Luna Lovegood's cold words were spoken in an oddly melodic tune.
Ginny sat to the side, checking news footage and responding to queries on her phone. Harry had volunteered to make potions, feeling quite uneasy about being 'dead'.
He recalled uncomfortably the events of five days earlier.
London
October 26, 2006
"Harry! It's me, Ginny."
"Ginny! It's – great to hear from you! I have-"
"Not now Harry. Are you at home?"
"Yes, just got in my car, and I'm headed to the office."
"Harry-", he heard the screech of a car brake to his left, "GET IN NOW."
He heard the panic in her tone and opened his door to immediately find himself yanked magically into the passenger seat of another car. He barely had time to recognize Ginny in the driver's seat before the door slammed closed and she stepped on the gas. Not a moment later, he felt a rumble and looked back to see, ten meters away, his car exploding.
"What the…?" Harry couldn't look away, finally coming back to himself as they turned a corner and his flaming car was out of sight. "Ginny?"
"Harry, we don't have a lot of time. Long story short, you're in danger. They found out the French terrorist was just a pawn. There's some sort of conspiracy going on, so Robards wanted to extract you. We're faking your death."
Harry's eyes bulged. "What? No! We can't – I can't do that!"
Ginny shook her head. "We have to. I almost didn't get to you on time. We're not going to be able to catch whoever did this if we're only focused on keeping you alive!" She pulled into an alley and, after confirming they hadn't been followed, she got out, holding out her hand to tell Harry to stay put. He watched her, her wand at the ready on her right forearm and her left hand hovering over the gun on her left hip holster.
He recognized Robards and Fox as they approached, hands raised. Ginny cast a few spells, presumably to confirm their identities, before she beckoned Harry to join them.
"Gentlemen," Harry stated as calmly as he was able.
"We only have a few minutes; we've already been called to the scene," Robards explained. "We need samples from you – hair, blood, and skin." Without asking, Robards took the referenced samples while Fox explained further.
"We were able to interview Michel Pierre under Veritaserum for a few minutes. We have reason to believe that he was simply a patsy. Right now, we don't know who to trust; so as far as anyone outside of the four of us is aware, Representative Harry Potter died today." Fox paused. "We're hoping with you dead, the true perpetrators will become clearer."
Robards' radio went off. "We'll be in touch but we must go now. Remember – trust no one!"
"Robards," Harry said as the older man turned to leave. "Can you keep an eye on Daphne?"
The Auror looked at him oddly. "Is there something I should know?"
Harry paused, unsure if he was letting his anger from the morning influence him, but worried nonetheless. "It's Anton Greengrass; I don't trust him."
Robards nodded. "We'll look into him. Have Ginny call if you think of anything else."
"Harry." Luna's sing-song voice returned. "You'd better add a pinch of thyme, or your potion won't incorporate correctly."
"Sorry." Harry shook himself from the memory as he focused on the task at hand. "I've always been rubbish at potions."
They had arrived at Luna's five nights earlier. Despite Robards' warning to trust no one, Ginny was confident her childhood best friend could be trusted. And while the woman was... odd, to say the least, she hadn't revealed his survival to anyone.
It had been five days since his untimely 'demise,' and after the first two surreal days of watching himself dominate the news cycle, he had grown antsy. Luna was a potioneer and had offered Harry use of her lab. Ginny had compiled a list of useful potions, and Harry had been brewing them one by one over the last few days, with varying degrees of success.
Luna lived in a quaint cottage in what seemed like the middle of an empty field off the beaten path. Harry had to admit, Ginny was a genius to think of this place. Behind the cottage, Luna had a vast greenhouse filled with what Harry assumed was any and every herb, spice, root, or plant anyone could ever need.
Ginny and Harry were – awkward. Once the adrenaline rush of the situation wore off, the memory of their last conversation seemed an ever-constant companion. While Harry felt genuinely relieved that Daphne seemed alright, based on her text to Ginny, it was a stark reminder of the tension that remained between him and Ginny. And given there was no indication of when Robards and Fox would apprehend whomever was ultimately responsible for Harry's murder attempt, they would likely be stuck with each other for quite a while.
"Are you sure you don't want me to make you two a remedy for the nargles? They're all around you." Luna gave them each a knowing look. Harry had found Luna's constant references to what he believed were mythical or otherwise non-existent beings disconcerting, but he learned early on not to ask clarifying questions.
"It's alright Luna." Ginny smiled at her before returning to her phone, presumably giving Daphne instructions for how to get to Weasleys.
"Are you telling her how to use the magical entrance?" Harry asked, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
Ginny offered a soft smile. "Well, I'm giving her both. It's a bit much without a guide."
"Alright Harry, will you be okay now? I need to check on the mandrakes in my greenhouse. I'll have my ear muffs on, so I won't hear you guys if you need anything," Luna told them, not even waiting for a response before heading out.
"That wasn't awkward at all," Ginny said as soon as Luna was out of earshot.
"What? Did I miss something?" Harry looked around and then back at his potion, which was turning the appropriate shade of cyan blue.
"The nargles? Being out of earshot? She can feel the tension." Ginny used her finger to point back and forth between her and Harry.
"Ah."
"Yes. We don't have to talk if you don't want to," Ginny started, giving him an out.
"It's – not that I don't want to talk; I do. It's just – I'm worried I'll say the wrong thing again and you'll yell at me," Harry pointed out.
"There's a very good chance of that. Not just because you'll say the wrong thing but I don't have the greatest temper." Ginny shrugged. "Ball's in your court."
No pressure, Harry thought as he looked from his potion to the witch, now giving him her full attention. He asked her for a moment so he could effectively bottle the potion before it grew too hot and exploded (as it had that very morning).
"I've been told I was an idiot the last time we spoke," Harry started. "I'm sorry. I should never have made you feel like I thought of you as a – mistress – or anything like that."
"I'll also admit that in hindsight, I didn't exactly give you time to explain," Ginny said. "So, I'm sorry too."
Harry smiled. "What I was trying, but failed, to convey is Daphne and my relationship is for show. That's not to mean that I typically go off kissing other women. But we have no romantic love between us." He took a levelling breath. "We started dating to appease her father, who was trying to force her to marry a pureblood wizard, and we got engaged because it was unbecoming for a single man to be a Representative in Parliament."
Ginny looked at him funny, as if trying to smile. "So what was I to you then? A – distraction?"
Harry shook his head and beamed at her, his eyes alight. "I've been best friends with Daphne since we were 13 years old. I love her – not in the way you're thinking – but probably similar to the way you love your brothers. For us, it was never anything more, and I knew that because-" he paused again, biting the inside of his cheek. "I watched my parents for the first ten years of my life. Even after the Event, when we would go days without a hot meal and were hiding from Isolationists, I would see them together and feel that was why we fought. Not to survive, but to love.
"So Daph and I made a pact: we would feign a relationship so that she would be free from her father and I would be a viable candidate for the open representative seat. We always planned for it to be temporary; once one of us found someone who mattered, the plan was to amicably end it." Harry stopped, stepping closer to Ginny, who was looking up from her seat at him, a slightly hopeful look marking her otherwise neutral features. "After you left, I went home, and I told Daphne what happened. We ended our engagement."
Ginny's eyes bulged. "Oh?" She sounded unsure.
"Oh." Harry smiled at her. "I realized when you were leaving, I wanted you in my life; not as an officer, but as something more."
He said it easily, as if he were just telling her about the weather. He stepped tentatively closer, now just inches from her, and his eyes gave her the first indication of his apprehension.
"You're telling me," Ginny started, her shaky voice betraying her own fear, "you want to be with me?"
"Yes, Ginevra Weasley. If you're okay dating a dead man, that is." His smile was bright, and she was suddenly reminded of his face when they walked into Weasleys, the laughter when they danced, that moment when she sang and she found him staring right at her. She thought of that day at the football pitch, when he played like the world wasn't what it was, how he always noticed when something wasn't right with her, and all the other moments.
Before she consciously realized it, she was standing, her hand reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. "Oh, screw it," she mumbled, and she kissed him.
He responded immediately, wrapping his hands around her waist and narrowing the space between them. Her fingers remained tangled in his hair, like she needed something to hold onto. She pushed herself flush against him, deepening the kiss, demanding more. Since their debacle of a first kiss, she had been doing everything in her power to forget it, to not think about the feeling of his lips against hers or the way his fingers deftly played at her waist. This was somehow more than that - a promise of something real.
He sighed into her, his tongue buried in her mouth, and she felt the vibrations of their kiss rock through her body. She felt his hands wander, gently tracing lines across narrow paths of skin. Each brush of his fingertips felt like something elemental - not fire or electricity but something equally raw.
There was a strange urgency to their movements - perhaps the result of weeks of unspoken tension or the time spent together yet still somehow apart. Harry felt almost afraid, like the second he let her go, that would be it and this would be over. Because the reality was, he had never experienced anything quite like this. He'd been with women, but he had never felt this incessant need to be closer, this sense of being shocked from just kissing.
"Harry?"
He looked at her, blinking and disheveled.
"Don't call me Ginevra."
Harry broke into a brilliant smile before pulling her back to him. Their kisses became somehow more frantic, hands fumbling over one another in an overwhelming desire to feel.
They were interrupted by the unceremonious beep of Ginny's phone, and the pair paused, foreheads pressed together and breaths heavy. "I should get that," Ginny whispered. Harry nodded, only then letting her arms go. "Weasley," she barked into the phone.
Harry watched Ginny as she started pacing before shifting towards him, grabbing the brown notebook from her bag.
"Got it," she mumbled before hanging up. "That was Robards; he found a safe house for us."
"What's wrong with here?" Harry asked. While Luna may have been odd, it was comfortable and seemed reasonably off the beaten path.
Ginny shook her head. "Luna's already sheltered us for too long. If whoever tried to kill you gets wind you are alive and I'm helping you, they may show up here. And I don't want Luna to become collateral damage." She shook her head. "The place we're going – Robards' knows him from the good ol' Order days. And he seems to believe the guy has a personal stake in keeping you alive."
Harry looked intrigued. "Where are we going?"
"Cambridge."
Harry thought for a moment, trying to figure out who he knew in Cambridge that would have an interest in keeping him alive. "I give up. Who's in Cambridge?"
"Sirius Black."
"Oh." Harry frowned. "I haven't seen Sirius since before the Event."
"Robards seemed to think he was your uncle or something." Ginny looked confused.
"He and my dad were best friends. I'm pretty sure he's my godfather, but they had something of a falling out after the Event," Harry explained.
Ginny nodded in understanding. After all, the Event changed everyone.
"So." They looked over and saw Luna standing at the door, small shovel in hand and covered in dirt. "It looks like you two managed to take care of that nargle infestation on your own."
"Yes, thank you Luna." Ginny laughed, and Harry felt himself smiling at the sound.
"So, when do we go?" Harry asked.
"It's not far, but I want to ditch my car before we get there; so we'll take a bit of a detour. We'll leave first thing in the morning."
London
"I don't understand, why are we taking the non-magical entrance?" Pansy asked as they got out of the cab on the relatively quiet London street, going down a short stairwell and entering the club.
Daphne sighed. "Ginny gave instructions, but the magical entrance seemed a bit difficult. Besides, Harry said the magical one was really just for show. I don't think it matters – it's all the same club."
Daphne had apparently forgotten it was Halloween, because as soon as they walked in, she was accosted by a veritable haunted house. She forgot herself for a moment, mesmerized by the false cobwebs, giant pumpkins, and mechanical spiders – a delightful combination of the magical and non-magical. "Oh Pansy! I completely forgot it was Halloween!"
Pansy did her own wide-eyed stare and held Daphne's hand for dear life as they entered the crowded club, which was completely filled with costumed party-goers. The club floor was a sea of monsters and princesses dancing under the magically lit ceiling, with an occasional streak of fake lightning streaming down and causing the entire place to flash.
Daphne returned Pansy's grip and pulled her through the crowd. She was awed by the normalcy of the scene, dumbfounded that such a moment could exist in their world – in a world where Harry Potter had died. She thought about what Harry's father said, about how they were waiting for the world to be better before they lived. If she took Harry's parliament seat, is that what she would be doing – sacrificing personal happiness for a better future? She looked around at the throngs of clubbers who were completely oblivious to her inner turmoil, her grief.
Pansy looked at her and squeezed her hand, giving her a look that said 'stop thinking and have fun.'
Daphne felt the tears that had been silently streaming down her face and wiped at them, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Let the decisions and reality wait until tomorrow.
Having finally worked their way towards one of the bars, the pair grabbed two seats just as a couple of costumed cats departed. They sat facing the crowds; Daphne watched plastic witches floating comically in the air, while Pansy became suddenly distracted by her phone.
"Daphne Greengrass," came a voice from behind the bar.
She turned, and her eyes widened as she recognized the redhead and smiled.
He gave her a hesitant grin.
"Ron Weasley," Daphne smirked. "Bartending in Weasleys. What are the odds?"
"Truly rare odds, indeed." His smile widened as he gazed at her. He was dressed as an Auror, robe and all, paying tribute to a now-extinct magical career from the days long past. She imagined for a moment a world in which this man, who espoused the value of life and sport, were relegated to the life of a dark wizard catcher. She didn't like that image; she thought of their debate at the football pitch, where he argued the importance of living for today rather than some theoretical future. His authenticity had been like a breath of fresh air compared to the politicians and lobbyists who seemed omnipresent in her line of work.
"I can't believe this place," Daphne remarked to him.
Ron was mixing drinks as he responded, "It's all Fred and George."
"I've never seen anything like it!"
"You know, the world was once like this – people celebrated and partied, and it was okay," Ron told her, a glint in his eye. "We've already experienced the end of the world. It's time we move on."
"Move on?" Daphne frowned, her words coming out harsh.
"That's not what I meant." Ron's tone softened. "I'm sorry about Harry, Daphne."
Daphne nodded. "I don't wish to think of politics or unhappy things tonight; but thank you."
"Cheers then." He placed three shots down, two of which magically floated to her and Pansy.
"What on earth is this?" Pansy looked at the drink with something like disdain.
"Oh no," Ron said, eyes wide. "Pansy Parkinson?"
"Do I know you?" Pansy asked in the haughty way only she was capable of.
"…Nope." He smiled and took his shot. "It's firewhiskey, by the way."
"Oh yes. A wizard's drink," Pansy drawled. She took her shot and grimaced for only a moment. "Well, bartender let's have another. We're here to forget our problems, right?"
Ron shook his head and complied.
Daphne looked at her friend curiously before shrugging and taking another shot.
"So," Daphne asked Ron once he was back in their vicinity, "where's Ginny? I was hoping to see her here."
He frowned momentarily. "She was reassigned – said she'll be off the grid for awhile and isn't sure when she'll be back."
"Hmm," Daphne acknowledged, throwing back her third shot.
"You may want to slow down," he told her with a slight smile.
Daphne knew he was right; her head felt light and her chest warm. "I've had a trying day."
He nodded, leaning over the bar and giving her his full attention.
She looked down at her hands, sliding the shot glass from hand to hand, mesmerized by the soft clink of glass against wood. "You know they want me to take Harry's seat?" She saw Pansy give her a look out of the corner of her eye, but otherwise the other woman's attention was firmly on her phone.
"Is that what you want?" Ron asked, a wave of his wand magically conjuring a pair of Butterbeers for them.
"It's not about what I want," Daphne pointed out. "It's about Harry's legacy."
"But what about you?"
Was she that transparent? she wondered, considering him. "I've never had the luxury of thinking about what I want. It's always been about duty – to my country and to my family. At least politics is something I know I'm good at."
Ron was about to respond when intoxicated clubbers began clamoring for drinks. He looked at her regretfully, about to return to his vocation, when suddenly Pansy was next to him behind the bar.
"If you're not going to do your job, get out of the way," she ordered. And, as if she had been a bartender her whole life, she began deftly taking orders and mixing drinks, the magical till humming in the background.
Ron shook his head and laughed before ducking under the bar and taking Pansy's now empty seat. Pansy subtly glanced their way, smirking slightly, before returning to her task.
"When I was young, all I wanted was to play Quidditch," Ron began. "I remember after the WEA was founded and recreational riding was banned, I was so angry and bitter. My parents died fighting for a better world, and there I was, a bitter teenager because I was banned from riding a broom.
"But then I met this non-magical – some guy named Matt. I was out in a field by our family home practicing magic, and there he was – hobbling around and kicking a ball – as happy as could be! He looked utterly ridiculous, and then I realized he'd lost his foot. Here I was, raging over what I had lost, but this boy, he had lost so much more, but it didn't matter to him. It made me realize, I'm alive, and that's what really matters."
"But you're fighting so hard to bring Quidditch back," Daphne pointed out.
"Of course, but not because I'm angry it was taken away, or even to fulfill a childhood dream. People should be able to play games, fly on brooms, or just live their lives. Playing sports should be something that brings us together. And that conversation with Matt made me realize that things like flying or Quidditch matter," he explained. "The point is, you're alive Daphne. Never forget that. If becoming a magical representative is something that matters to you, then I think that's great. But if you're only doing this because you feel you have no choice..." he trailed off, placing his hand on her arm, his eyes boring into hers before he got up to take over for Pansy.
Daphne sat there, staring dumbly at the empty seat and wishing for a moment that his world could be her world.
"So what did the ginger do to you?" Pansy asked, a martini dangling from her right hand.
"Oh, just gave me more of his delightful idealism." She smiled.
"I think he fancies you." Pansy smirked.
"How can you even say something like that?" Daphne looked horrified.
Pansy laughed. "I've known you and Harry for years. Please, darling."
Daphne shook her head. "Were we really that transparent?"
"Yes." Pansy looked briefly at the bartender, busy down at the other end of the bar but continuing to steal glances at Daphne. "But only to those of us who really know you." She cleared her throat and changed topics. "So, you're taking Harry's seat?"
"I really don't feel there's another choice."
"No, I think you're right." Pansy placed her glass down gently and turned to her friend. "I've heard my father and his friends – the things they talk about." She trailed off, lost in a memory.
"What is it, Pans?" Daphne queried.
"This is a terrible clubbing conversation," Pansy pointed out.
"To be fair, I'm a terrible clubber."
"Yes, that's true," Pansy agreed. "I don't know exactly what they're planning, but I get the feeling that there is something going on. Just be careful. And remember –"
"Call you if I need blackmail material."
Pansy smirked, "Right in one."
A/N: Thanks as always to my Beta, ElizColl. As a heads up, there will be an interlude coming your way Monday or Tuesday, followed by a full sized chapter on Wednesday.
As always, comments and thoughts are much appreciated. You can also find me floundering on Tumblr at canttouchthis87