Chapter 3

Wippery Cottage, May 15th, 2025

Rose returns to the cottage while it is still morning. She changes into Blacktip for a run in the woods, prepares and eats a light lunch and sits down to read one of Harry's science fiction novels. Throughout, she carefully nurses her anger, convinced that the two week forced vacation is some kind of dirty trick by the old farts, Harry included.

As soon as Harry steps into the house, Rose gets up from the sofa and plants her fists on her hips, leaning forward. She raises her voice. "What gave you the right to interfere with my job, Uncle Harry? My job!"

Harry gives her a smirk. "Who, me?"

Her voice rises another decibel, turning a little squeaky. "Of course, you! Do you think I'm an idiot?"

He walks to the kitchen counter and begins to empty food items from his book bag, trying hard not to laugh. "Far from it, goddaughter. I'm aware you're really quite clever." She growls. He frowns a bit, continuing in an airy tone he learned from Luna. "I don't scare easily either."

She nearly laughs. Harry Potter doesn't scare easily, right. She manages to keep some of her anger. "Why?"

He waves his hand, in a half-assed apology. "I'm sorry. I offered to train you a bit. Your bosses seemed quite pleased with the idea."

"You mean train me in muggle combat?"

"No. I mean train you in combat. Period. You know you need it."

Her performance two nights ago was a little embarrassing. "All right, fine!" She thinks a bit about it. "You can't train me in combat in two weeks."

"True. Think of it as more of an extended aptitude test."

"You mean, this could lead to more training?"

Harry shrugs. "Who knows... If you're interested, maybe."

She stares at Harry putting food away. Unhurried, precise. Taking his time to do something he could have done in an instant with a wave of a wand. She was raised in magic, her mother embracing it with the same intensity she does everything. Why does this notoriously powerful wizard turns his back on it? He chooses to live almost like a muggle. There's a mystery at the center of Harry Potter, one that she would like very much to unravel. Her anger drains away, and she answers with an impish smile."It's fine, Uncle Harry. I'll train with you.

His reply is soft and unhurried. "That's my girl."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

After a run and a light breakfast, Harry takes Rose to Grimmaulds Place. She floos in from the cottage, after getting added to the wards. Rose looks around,, doing a brief tour of the ground floor, which ends up in the kitchen. A house elf startles her, popping suddenly. He's wearing some kind of short-sleeve loose blue overall with a big pocket in front and the Black family three raven sigil embroidered on the pocket.

He bows. "Good morn'ng, Master Harry, Master Harry's Rosie."

Harry replies in a kind tone. "Good morning, Eddie."

"Nice to meet you, Eddie." Rose adds.

The elf bows again. "Does Master or his Rosie require anyth'ng?"

"Please set up the training room for target practice."

"Yes, Master Harry. Are yous staying for lunch?"

Harry questions Rose with a look, and she nods. "Yes, Eddie. Please, serve lunch in the kitchen. Around half past noon."

"Yes, Master Harry." With a large grin and a bow, the elf pops away.

"Cute."

"He is young." Harry looks a little embarrassed. "Showed up when Kreacher, the elf I inherited with this stone pile, passed away. Couldn't send the little guy away."

She holds his arm for a second. "Don't worry, darling. I'm not my mum."

Harry manages to both smile and grimace. "I'll try to remember that."

Rose makes a broad gesture with her arm. "So, this is Headquarters."

"Well... what's left of it, I guess." At her puzzled face, Harry continues. "I kind of think of it as my workplace."

"Give me a tour?" Harry hesitates. There is a lot of work to do. She gets next to him, touching him lightly on his chest. Pouts a little. "Please, Harry?"

Her touch is electric. Her intent to seduce unmistakable and not entirely unwelcome. He steps back a bit and smirks at her. "Harry, hm?"

She winks, a predator on the prowl. "I hope you don't mind...""

"Fine. A quick tour."

They start from the attic, just a huge empty room with the roof framing exposed. It's all meticulously clean and sparsely furnished..A large canopied bed and dresser in two of the third floor bedrooms, with the other rooms empty. Rose coos at the black marble bathtub in the Master's ensuite, with gold fixtures and large enough for a playful threesome..

Rose walks by the door to the study, stops and walks back surprised. "What the..."

As she begins to reach for the doorknob, Harry yells. "Stop!" He is surprised that she could see the magically hidden door at all. "It's the owner's study. It's protected by a separate ward."

"Oh!" She whips out her wand and casts a curse breaker's 'reveal magic' spell. The door glows a faint white, and the doorknob an ominous green. "I see."

"I'll show it to you later." Harry is not ready to introduce Rose to his 'advisors'.

Several guest rooms and two bathrooms on the second floor, along the walls of a long corridor, all empty.

Kitchen, dining and entertaining rooms are on the ground floor. An ornate double door leads to the library. Three levels, with iron stairs, a mezzanine with leather sofas, catwalks. Dark wood shelves following the walls and projecting into the room. A section of cubbyholes with parchment scrolls. Broad map drawers. Ancient-looking books behind glass doors, protected with stasis spells. A large wooden table on the ground floor, with a dozen high-backed chairs around it.

"Merlin's sagging balls!" The happy, wide-eyed astonishment is all Hermione but the language... isn't. Harry smiles at her excitement. "Does mom know?"

"She knows of it. A lot of the books here are a little too dark, though."

"Dark?"

"Dark. Necromancy, dark rituals, curses, dark potions, death wards, blood magic, battle magic, soul magic..."

She moves towards one of the walls, perusing the old tomes, er hands opening and closing with temptation. She point at a book with a faded title 'Profana Rictus Aeterna'. "May I?"

"Some other time. We got work to do."

Target practice is mostly hitting fast-moving shielded targets with strong, destructive spells, while avoiding other moving targets. After a demonstration that leaves Rose amazed, envious and panting, He gets her going. When they finally come up for lunch, Rose is both physically and magically exhausted. "That was a motherfucker."

Harry likes the dissonance between her clean, nice-girl looks and her potty mouth. "You haven't really been challenged much, have you?"

She scratches her head. "I guess not."

"You need to modulate the strength of your spells, Rose. Not every reducto has to be all out."

"I get it, all right?" She sits down and a high-calorie plate with meat, roasted roots and vegetables appears in front of her, together with a tall glass of orange juice. She starts to chomp away, oblivious of manners and company. Harry smiles, as for the first time, she's showing her Ron side. "Really!" A little indignant. "Why don't they teach about spell modulation in school, or in auror basic?"

"You realize most magicals can only cast about half a dozen full powered bludgeoners in as many minutes, right?" She looks confused, but nods. "Magicals are not taught to modulate their spells because they learn it instinctively. They either do it or pass out."

"Oh." She smiles as she understands it. "I get it, I guess."

Harry laughs. "You'll learn."

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure."

"Can I spend sometime in the library after lunch?"

"Sure. Just be careful. Some of the books are cursed. Test before touching."

"And why would you keep cursed books?"

"It's blood-keyed curses, for the most part. Or passphrase protected."

"Ah. Black?"

"Potter and Peverell too. Among others." He's been rescuing questionable books from the fury of light-minded mediocre magicals most of his adult life.

"All right." Rose can't help feeling a little out of her depth, despite her training. For the daughter of a blood-traitor light family and a muggleborn, Harry's magical roots seem a little daunting.

The following day they come back for more. The spell room in the basement is large, windowless, with walls well-protected by cold rock and spells. They are both dressed in exercise pants, t-shirts and trainers. Wands out. She's sweating, but not panting yet. He looks fresh, like he just stepped out of the shower.

It's a simple training game. Stinging hexes at ten paces. Advantage goes to whoever casts faster, more accurately, moves and dodges better. First to score ten hits wins. With fine control of his magic, Harry makes sure his hexes are as weak as a needle prick. Rose uses more oomph on hers, but she doesn't score any hits, so that's moot.

The first game last all of fifteen seconds. Not a single miss on Harry's side, four misses on Rose's. What's worse, she knows he's not even trying hard. They stop for Harry to give her a little accuracy and footwork training. The second is a great improvement. Thirty seconds, and she manages to avoid four of his hexes. She misses eight times. By the tenth round, she is managing to avoid about half his hexes,and she is, at least, making him sweat a bit. She's also feels like she did some serious snogging with a hedgehog.

They floo back to the country cottage, for a tall glass of water and a skin salve. She coyly asks Harry to apply the salve in hard-to-reach places. First watching him move like a panther, and then with his hands on her, his shirt glued to his muscled torso and the smell of unwashed wizard. It's doing things to her that she doesn't really mind very much. She can't tell if Harry is similarly affected, but he does seem to take longer applying the salve than strictly necessary.

"Dreadful."

Harry lifts his head from her legs. "Uh... what?" Distracted tone. Rose smiles. He is affected, all right..

"My performance. Dreadful, no?"

He breathes in and out slowly, trying to formulate an answer. "No, not really." He continues, his tone reminding her of some of her trainers at the Department. "You have excellent balance and very fast reflexes. Natural ability enhanced by ability bleeding over from your animagus form., I'd guess. You're also quick-thinking and adaptable. Your point accuracy, on the other hand, is indeed dreadful. Overall, borderline between A and EE for the lesson. I'd say you show promise. Besides, as I told you, you're unusually powerful, magically."

"Really?"

"Yes." He stretches, arching his back. Rose gasps a little He pretends not to notice. "You're the strongest of the Weasleys." Weasleys are known in magical Britain as an unusually powerful family.

Harry's statement gives her a little pause. "Stronger than uncle Bill?" Conventional wisdom in the family has Bill cast as the 'scary bloke'. A long ways after Harry, of course.

Harry laughs a bit and shakes his head. "Stronger than Gin." Comparable throughput, deeper reserves, he figures. Powerful indeed. "But you're not done with your magical maturity."

Rose frowns, trying to make sense of what Harry is saying. People don't usually discuss individual magical power around the family table, and she never came across the issue in a professional capacity.

"So, aunt Ginny..."

"Seventh child, first Weasley girl in five generations. The arithmancy is there." Rose nods, following his train of thought. Harry laughs a bit. "Besides, I've seen it. She destroyed a very large room with a single overpowered reducto at fourteen. Not quite Dark Lady material back then, but nothing to sneer at."

Rose looks disappointed. "It just sounds so..."

"Wasteful?" Rose nods. "She enjoys what she does." Ginny writes a weekly quiddich column for the Prophet. "That's what matters."

"Am I Dark Lady material?"

Harry senses the little edge of fear in her question. He embraces her, pulling her into his chest. "You're too sweet to be a Dark anything."

She gets annoyed and pushes him away. "I'm not sweet! And don't patronize me."

Harry realizes his mistake. Not a child. He raises his hands in apology. "Sorry."

"So? Am I Dark Lady material?"

"It takes a more than power to make a Dark Lord. Or Lady. It takes a lot of hatred, for one."

Rose looks worried. "You think you're a bad girl." Rose nods. "You're a rebel, luv. Innocent, caring, happy, clever and a bit of a rebel."

She knows he means it. Harry's face darkens and he mumbles something. Her animagus-enhanced ears barely manages to get. "Balm to my wounded soul."

She feels a wave of hot affection for Harry, which nearly makes her jump on his arms and snog him senseless. It takes a little time to get her beating heart back on track. 'Not yet', she thinks to herself. "What about you?"

He shakes his head. "I'm no Dark Lord."

"I know. But you could be one." He nods quietly. She's almost afraid to ask. "How powerful are you?"

Harry stays silent for a long time, thinking about how to answer this. Finally he gives a Dumbledorian answer. Truthful, but misleading as hell. "I was never tested."

Rose bites her lower lip and frowns, a picture of her mother in deep thought. "But everyone who works for the Ministry..." Her voice trails down into silence, followed by a whisper. "It's a secret, right? You're the nuclear deterrent. Imprecision and rumors work best."

Harry smiles, as proud as the first time he watched James playing professionally. "Gorgeous and scary smart."

She blushes deeply. Harry wonders briefly how far down her chest the blushing goes. "Even if you had been tested, the results would be need-to-know, and you couldn't say anything about it."

Harry just smiles and changes tack. "Go meditate a bit. Then lunch and hand-to-hand training. "

She winces. "Bruises."

He growls and imitates some kind of colonial accent. "You betcha!"

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Harry is sitting sitting under his oak, a light meditation trance making his features look carefree and rested. Blacktip wanders out of the woods and sits in front of him, changing into Rose. She's wearing light shorts, a baggy t-shirt with a black kitten picture and sandals, her auburn hair pushed back in a rough ponytail. After ten days of harsh training, she's just leaving behind the sore muscles and pains, gaining an easy flow of motion and a healthy glow. Not a single nightmare in the past couple of days also suggest her spirit is recovering.

Harry feels Rose's faint magical presence, tart and sweet as a wild strawberry.. He opens his eyes, a faint smile dancing on his lips. "Good morning, Rose."

"Good morning, Harry." She decided to stop calling him 'uncle' when she finally acknowledged to herself that her intentions with him have absolutely nothing to do with family. She is woman enough to recognize his attraction to her, but doubts he'll ever do anything about it. With a deep sigh, she replies. "What's the program for today?"

"Down time. I have a few errands to run. Dinner with Teddy and Vicky tonight?"

Rose is not particularly close to them, but she knows that's not the case with Harry. She's pleased to be included. Like a girlfriend of sorts. She shakes her head. She's turning into such a pathetic little bint. "Sure. What time?"

"Seven. Meet here right before?"

"It's a date."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

"Tori's Pad!" Floo from Grimmaulds Place to the little muggle apartment converted into a fancy singles flat and carefully warded. She's already there when he arrives, dressed in a translucent light blue nightgown over lacy white knickers. Astoria Malfoy is a light brunette, long straight hair down to her buttocks, with dark blue eyes, fine features, short stature, with ample curves and firm flesh. She's forty-three, but doesn't look a day over thirty.

Harry cleans up the soot and stops to check out his friend and mistress. With a degree of cold deliberation, he throws his confusion concerning Rose to the back of his mind. He wants to give Astoria the attention she is due. "Well, hello beautiful."

"Hello, yourself. Missed you." She approaches, goes on tiptoe for a sweet kiss on the lips and starts unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

Harry helps her, wiggling out of his jeans and removing his shoes. Down to his boxers, he drops a serious kiss on her lips, while pawing her buttocks. Her perfume, some kind of personal blend with a hint of a lust potion acts as a veela's allure, ensnaring his attention. Her magical presence and the feel of her flesh against his own complete the attraction, making him ready, and more.

They move to the bed, moaning sweet nothings to one another. A practiced dance. He removes her knickers and his boxers, feeling the moisture at her core with his fingers, playing with her. She moans loudly. Soon her enters her, and she bends her back, seeking the best position. He stares at her face, enjoying the look of abandonment, as she floats in her pleasure, eyes closed and a beautiful smile on her lips.

Unpleasantness brought them together.

Summer after their sixth year, Scorpius and Albus ask to meet the Malfoys. They come out, stating clearly that they have been together for nearly two years, an that they are committed to each other, and in love. Astoria wipes a few tears and hugs both boys. Draco does not react well...

Screaming insults, he stuns Albus and Astoria and begins to curse Scorpius. Albus emergency portkey activates, taking him to his father. A few minutes later, Harry invades Malfoy Manor, eyes and wand ablaze. He finds Scorpius writhing under his father's pain curse, and Astoria passed out on the floor. A brief duel with Malfoy ends with the blond ponce silenced and glued to a wall. Astoria, awakened, glows with fury. Harry takes Scorpius to his home, gives him a pain relief potion and sets him down in bed, leaving him under Albus' care. He then returns to Malfoy Manor. Astoria was quietly breaking every bone on Draco's arms and legs, a small smile following each muffled crack and crunch, while the idiot squirmed and opened his mouth in silent screams.

Harry touches her shoulder. She starts, looking a little ashamed. "Do you want him in Azkaban? For good?" The conditions of Draco's post-war parole are... draconian.

She looks at Draco long and hard. Behind the pain, she can see the abject fear in his eyes. She shakes her head. "No." She shakes her head in dismay. She loved the idiot once, and he is Scorpio's father. "He'll come around, eventually." She figures he needs is a lesson, not the garbage bin.

Harry hugs the witch, and she cries for a while. She thanks Harry, promises to be in touch. As it turns out, Ginny and James are not entirely comfortable with Albus lifestyle. So, to the gay couple, family reduces to Harry, Astoria, Teddy and Lily. So, Harry and Astoria are often thrown together socially. they chat and they flirt . Their boys note the chemistry, then tease and encourage them. Harry has learned that muggle morals on adultery don't really apply very well to long-lived wizards and witches and their nearly unbreakable marriages of politics and convenience. Discretion is the rule, though. Eventually, a couple of glasses of wine too many, and it happens. It takes Harry a while to stop gloating to himself about fucking Malfoy's wife. She definitely deserves better.

It begun in lust, loneliness and friendship, and a little anger, too. Eventually, maybe, a little love got thrown in, which neither is willing to acknowledge but both feel. Years later, it's a meaningful part of their lives. And, more important to the lovers, the boys know and approve.

She screams his name when she finishes. Afterwards, they lie down, cuddling. Astoria, well-used to her lover's broody ways, feels the distance. Something is bothering him. "What is it, Harry?" Genuine concern in her voice.

Harry sighs, actually wanting to share his troubles, but uncertain about his lover's reaction. "Woman trouble..."

She untangles herself from his limbs and sits, legs crossed on the bed. Her expression is a weird mix of hope, concern and a little jealousy.

"Who?" She's tried to find him a proper witch, without success. Her hopes for a little love with her sister dashed on Daphne's stupid disapproval of the relationship between Astoria and Harry. Frigid little bitch, that one.

Harry sighs. "Rose Weasley. Remember her?"

"Of course I do. She's a dear friend of the boys." She pictures the little redhead in her mind and she smiles in appreciation. "Fine bum. Very cute." Then she stops smiling, thinking of the potential mess. "Not a good choice, though."

"Of course! She's my goddaughter, for shame! I've changed her diapers."

The emotional reaction shows Astoria how much the girl has gotten under his skin. "Oh, boy!"

Harry stops his rant and looks at her. "What?"

She draws a little protective rune in his chest with a pink nail. "You're in sooo much trouble.." He laughs and pushes her hand away. "How long have you been, I don't know... interested?"

"As an involuntary attraction, years. Since she grew breasts, I guess. As a concrete possibility, a few weeks."

"I was not aware of your pedo thing."

"Well..."

"What?"

"I don't have a pedo fetish. I much prefer mature curves and conversation." He cups her left D-cup and caresses it tenderly. She giggles and gives him a brief kiss. "There's probably some magic at play."

Of course. "There's always magic, silly." Greengrasses are old way worshippers and very respectful of lady magic.

A long silence follows. "She's the daughter of my closest friends."

She pouts, adorably. "I'm your closest friend."

Harry smiles. She is probably right, these days. "Point."

"You can literally have anyone you want, babe."

"I don't want anyone else."

"Is there anything more? Recapturing lost youth? A second chance at Hermione?" Harry makes a disgusted face. "What?"

"There is lust, for sure."

"Mutual, I assume."

"I'm pretty sure. She's rather brazen about it."

"Then just shag the little cunt."

Harry loves it when she is coarse. Despite that, his thoughts turn to shagging Rose, which makes him both aroused and uncomfortable. Rose is, most definitely, under his skin. In a way, more than anyone, ever. But how is Astoria to take it? "There may be more than lust."

Astoria looks a little surprised. "Really? She's so young..."

Harry snorts. "Right!"

Astoria breathes in and slowly exhales. "Did you realize you're looking ten years younger than you were a couple of weeks ago?" Astoria is one of a handful of people who knows about Harry's metamorphmagus talent.

Harry looks startled. He gets up and looks at himself in the full body mirror. "Fuck!" He laughs, embarrassed. After a minute, he's back looking his proper age.

Astoria's voice hold a tone of amusement. "So, you were unaware you were doing it."

"Yup."

There's a long silence. "More than lust, hm?"

Harry flinches and rubs his head. He's experienced enough he doesn't change his form without noticing. Usually. "I guess I'm in a lot of trouble."

Astoria feels more envious than jealous. She fell hard for Draco, a long time ago, and she misses the heady feeling. "I suppose you are, my friend."

"She deserves better, Tori. Some kind of prince, not a burn out, pervy old killer."

Astoria smiles. "I happen to like the so called 'burned out, pervy' individual. Specially the pervy part." Truly. That girl is so lucky...

Harry wraps his arms around the witch, in a tender hug. "Well... thanks, I guess."

She clucks. "You do need someone. What we have was never going to be enough."

"I wasn't looking for anything."

"I know." She lets the silence stretch a bit before asking what she feels is the most important question. "So, what about magic?"

Harry thinks long and hard. "It feels right."

She smiles. They stare into each other's eyes, uncertain. Astoria breaks the silence. "I'm sure you've heard this before, Harry. You should always trust your magic. It won't steer you wrong."

Harry sighs. "I hear you, luv."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

After a brief visit to her parents, Rose decides she desperately needs to see her best friend.

"Nick's Nest!"

The flat is a couple of blocks from St. Mungo, a small one-bedroom rented with cheap furniture and a faint moldy smell. Dominique doesn't mind, mostly because if she is around, she is too tired to care.

Rose finds Dominique passed out on top of the bed covers, wearing her healer uniform. She manages to coax her cousin out of the cumbersome clothes, right down to her knickers, and tucks her in with a kiss on the forehead. She then spends the next couple of hours cleaning up the place, doing a little laundry and fixing tea. The smell of hot crumpets brings Nick out of slumber into the living room, face still crumpled with fatigue. Dominique is veela. Tall, slender, blonde and blue-eyed, a knock-out by any standards even without the allure. Ballerina looks, with a scientist's brain and a lumberjack's appetite. Bookish and shy, she keeps her fire bird temper well hidden, most of the time. She's hard to get to know, and very easy to love once you do.

Nick blinks a few times, looking at Rose. "Oh, hi!"

"Wakey, wakey, pretty bird. Tea?"

"Of course."

After three cups, and five well-buttered crumpets she is human enough to speak. She looks around, noticing the cleaner apartment and the folded laundry on the sofa. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Good crumpets."

"Thanks. Harry's recipe."

Nick seems to become alert, giving Rose a sharp look. "Oh. It's Harry now?"

"I can't keep calling him 'uncle' now, can I? Not considering..."

Nick makes a dismissive gesture. "Sweety, you and half the witches on this continent want a piece of that." She gets up and starts putting the dishes away. "I can see you're over little Greggy..."

"Grant." Rose shrugs. "Totally over."

Nick stares at her, thinking she wants to say more. When Rose doesn't, she asks. "How did you end it?"

Rose gives it a flat delivery. "I slit his throat."

Nick stares at her for a while, then gets up. "I'm going to take a bath." She walks to the bathroom slowly. "Join me?" Nick is Veela. She needs affection and sex as much as she needs food, and Rose is usually good about providing both without too many strings.

Rose doesn't reply, but she undresses and follows. She's a little on edge as well, and can use some attention. Nick has a huge clawfoot that's more than big enough for two. They wash one another, both unwinding under the scented foam, then snog, sweetly, with no hurry. Nick's allure is a faint suggestion at the back of Rose's mind. She is not lesbian enough to get severely affected, just sufficiently attracted to her goddess of a cousin to enjoy it.

Back in Nick's bed, both of them smelling like lavender bath salts, they enjoy a slow snog that turns into a quick, practiced shag. They've been best friends since they can remember, and sometimes lovers. It's been months since they've been together like this, and they both miss it.

Their first time was a crazy little incident back in the summer after Rose's fourth year. Nick, Rose and Albus were left alone at Shell Cottage for the afternoon. Rose and Albus were revising for their OWLs, and Nick, who had just taken them, was tasked with tutoring. Nick had just gone through veela maturity, and her allure was a little out-of-hand. Spending the afternoon with a pair of friends who happened to be a gay boy and a straight girl was just what Nick's frazzled nerves needed.

Nick and Rose, like two proper Ravenclaws were going seriously about it, but their Slytherin cousin was bored and a little disruptive. At one point, the two girls lost their patience and ganged up on Albus, tickling him. Then the game became a three-way tickle fest. Finally, Rose and Albus had Nick pinned to the bed, mercilessly tickling her on the sides and under her arms when it happened. Nick's allure almost literally exploded.

Suddenly clothes were gone, and they were at it like a crazed bunny threesome. None of them could remember the details very clearly later, but all three lost their virginity that afternoon. Rose was a little surprised she was not quite as straight as she always thought. Albus, Merlin bless his sweet soul, was mortified. Not only his sexual identity was not nearly as definite as he thought, but his plans for a romantic first time with his love just went up in a cloud of cousins. The incident drew Rose and Nick closer, but Albus wouldn't talk to them until the Express, and couldn't look them in the face for nearly a year. Aside from them, the only person who knew of the incident was Fleur, who found three naked, passed out, exhausted teenagers in her living room when she got home from work. She laughed herself silly when told what had happened and breathed easier when the pregnancy tests were negative.

In the afterglow of their afternoon fun, Nick and Rose lie close together, face to face in Nick's bed. Nick's curiosity breaks the silence. "You really slit his throat."

"Yup. I sure did. He had tried to rape me."

Nick feels a stab of anger, but decides to keep the tone light. "Well, how foolish."

"Indeed."

"But... he's still among the living." Despite her busy life, Nick does check the news sometimes. She knows Grant's death would have been a headline.

"Harry unslitted it."

Nick guffaws. "He did what?"

"Went back in time and saved the fucker."

"He has one of those things... what's the word?"

"A time-turner."

"Yes! Those things."

"He said he doesn't have it anymore."

"Hm." Nick frowns a bit. "I hope he punished the cunt."

"Yup. He did."

"Well, well. Such a resourceful bloody hero."

"Right? Mum would say it's his 'saving people thing'"

"And you're joking about it."

Rose shakes her head with a half smile. "He's training me to fight. I was pretty awful at defending myself. Harry got offended."

"What kind of training? Wands at twenty paces?"

"Wands, knives, hand-to-hand, even muggle guns. He's the best defense teacher ever."

"So I've heard. And?" Dominique knows there is more.

"He gets me so turned on I can barely think straight."

Nick giggles. "Rose, sweetie..."

"What?"

"What makes you think..."

"That he would ever go for it? For me?"

"Right. He wouldn't. Too straighlaced."

Rose lifts one eyebrow."You've tried, haven't you?"

"Of course I did. He is immune. Not resistant, immune!"

"I don't know. I think I get to him."

"Of all the witches... you?"

Defiance. "Why not?" Then Rose looks a little despondent. "He has a lover somewhere, you know?"

"I did not." Nick thinks for a bit. "Aunt Elle?"

"No." Rose knows Gabrielle's smell. "Some aristocrat."

Nick's gossipy bone, usually dormant, wakes up. "Any ideas?"

"Not really. The scent though... something familiar." Nick's eyes brighten, and Rose instantly reads her mind. "Not mum's!"

Nick deflates. She thinks about it for a bit, while Rose squirms. "His interest, though... could it be a second chance at your mum?"

That gets a rise out of Rose. "That's disgusting!" She shudders. "I hope not!"

"Don't be silly." Nick is veela, and questioning where attraction comes from goes against her nature. Being Nick's best friend, the casual attitude has rubbed a bit on Rose as well. "You know, sometimes I see my mum staring at him, despite her bond. He gets to all veela."

"Is that you angling for a threesome?"

Nick smiles. "No." She shakes her head. "Well.. I wouldn't refuse it."

Rose pushes Nick. "Slut!" They tickle one another, and then snog a bit. Rose gets back to the conversation where they had dropped it. "You just want to replace Albie for him and relive our first time."

Nick giggles. "They do look a lot alike, don't they?"

Rose recalls Harry's overpowering alpha scent and magical presence. "The difference seems small to the eye, but..."

"I know, sweetie. I can feel it too." She turns serious. "Just tell me one thing. What do you want out of this?"

Rose smiles, taking it lightly. "One great shag? Bragging rights?"

Nick frowns, a little annoyed. "Oh, you think you're such a bad girl... but you're just lying to yourself."

"And what do you think I want, fire bird?"

"His babies. Just like every other witch."

Rose shuts up then. She knows Nick is right, but she will never, ever own up to it. It's just too bloody scary.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

It's either a large stone house, or a tiny manor. Breagh House is an old Black family property, sitting in the middle of a ten acre plot in Yorkshire. Harry gave it as a wedding gift to Teddy and Victoire. The Delacours then gave them an extensive updating, going from modern plumbing, electricity, secure warding to a pleasant country french décor.

Victoire receives them at the door. She is on her twenty-sixth week, round and radiant. She's not veela. Just a tall, extremely pretty strawberry blonde with Fleurs's elegant features and a few Weasley freckles. She is wearing a large muggle pregnancy short sleeve top, dark blue, and exercise pants. She jumps on Harry's neck with a delighted squeal when she sees him. "Papa! So long..." then she lets him go and gives Rose a fond, slightly awkward hug. "And Posey. Thank you for coming."

Rose scowls at Victoire. "Don't call me that." Victoire answers with a grin and a thrown kiss. "And since when do you call Harry 'Papa'?"

Victoire giggles but doesn't reply.

Harry hands her the dirigible plum pudding he brought for dessert. "You look radiant, sweetie."

"Ah! I look like a house." She holds her bump and snickers. "at least Teddy doesn't seem to mind."

Harry laughs a bit. "Nothing sexier than a woman with your baby inside." Victoire blushes a bit, and Rose smiles. "How is my granddaughter treating you so far?"

"Not too bad. I only want to murder her, well... sometimes. Please, come in. Join me in the kitchen. Teddy got in a little late and should be coming down soon."

Rose looks around the place. "This is very nice!"

"Thanks. I like it too." Victoire picks Rose up by the hand. "I'll show you around after dinner."

Victoire and Rose sit at the dinner table while Harry serves dinner. A big leafy salad and something called a Hungarian Goulash, to be eaten over flat, buttered noodles. It smells heavenly. Teddy shows up , purple hair still wet, wearing gray exercise pants and a Man U. jersey. Harry and Teddy greet with a warm embrace. "Hi, Dad."

"Son."

A broad smile for Rose. "Looking good, Posey."

"Grrr." Rose grew up seeing Teddy at Potter Manor and Shell Cottage, but never at the Burrow, for some reason. He was the funniest coolest, most incredibly sweet older cousin, and utterly besotted with Victoire since forever. He's also the one that gave her that stupid nickname. "Hate you, Lupin."

Teddy answers with a good natured laugh and a hug. Strong, well-muscled male, bigger than Harry. "You love me, Posey."

She shows him her tongue. Harry, Victoire and Teddy laugh, and Rose huffs. "Fine! And what's new in Aurorland?"

"Same old. Domestics, thefts, muggle baiting and paperwork. Then more paperwork."

"I'm just glad I'm done with that," Harry adds and smiles at Rose.

Victoire and Teddy exchange a look, and Teddy turns to Rose. "Forgive my curiosity, but why are you with Dad?"

Rose hesitates and Victoire frowns at Teddy. "Not that we mind the visit..."

"Rose is staying at the cottage. I'm teaching her a bit of combat."

"You're putting poor Posey through the Potter boot camp?"

Harry looks at her. "Maybe. Just a little, for now."

Rose voice goes a little shrill. "Poor me? Boot camp?"

Victoire snickers and Teddy points at his own chest. "You're looking at the one and only graduate of the infamous Potter boot camp. James gave up after a few months and Albus was too clever to even start." In stage whisper. "My advice: run away."

"That bad?"

"You have no idea. He makes hit wizard basic look like a stroll through the park."

Harry smirks. "It's not that bad."

Victoire interjects. "It is. But it probably saved Teddy's a life a time or two..."

"True. More like half a dozen times, actually. And a whole bunch of other people's lives. But why do you need combat training? You're some kind of researcher, aren't you?"

Rose turns serious. "I was recently reminded that the world is dangerous. Even for researchers."

She looks a little upset, and Harry caresses her arm. The look and the touch is not lost in Teddy and Victoire, and they exchange another glance. Teddy turns to Harry. "Is she good?"

Harry sits back and smiles softly. "She's got potential."

Victoire shakes her head in mock dismay. "Oh, boy..."

"You can come join us for practice, son."

Teddy directs an evil grin at Rose. "Sure. I'm curious to see little Posey's potential."

Rose smirks. "I'll show you my potential, cuz..."

"Hey! That one is mine." Victoire points vaguely at Harry. "You can have the old one."

Harry and Rose reply on top of one another. "Who are you calling old?" "Thanks for the encouragement."

Rose and Victoire both giggle.

Harry turns to Teddy. "Is it getting hot here?"

After the meal, Teddy and Rose collect the dishes and Victoire takes Harry to their sitting room for a snifter.

Victoire serves him, and then sits next to him with a moan. "Be good, Papa." She smiles at his sharp look. "It's obvious."

"I sure hope not."

Victoire shakes her head and tuts, ignoring him. "She's a bloody good one. A little wild, but that fits, doesn't it?"

Harry frowns and lets the silence stretch a bit. Victoire just smiles. "So you'd approve."

"Oui."

"Good to know." Harry laughs and shakes his head. "Too many smart women in this family."

"And you love us just the same."

"So true."