Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.
AN: Many thanks to my two fabulous betas, Averlovi, who went through the plot with me and made sure the point came across, and aussigh, who brought my English up to par. You guys rock!
Chopping Wood
The young, raven-haired man placed the log of wood on the stump. His calloused hands examined the flat top, his eyes studied each crack in the wood while he planned where to strike best. His mind made up, he bent down and grabbed the well-worn axe.
His left hand held the base of the handle, his right hand slid along the handle towards the blade in an almost loving motion, the movement of a man familiar with his tool. In a swift, circular motion, he swung the axe over his head. The muscles on his back and arms flexed under the tight t-shirt. The sharp blade gleamed in the sunlight as it rose high and higher, then swooped down like a falcon on its prey and hit the log with a dull thud.
The log splintered into halves, cracking open in the middle with a sharp sound, almost like a gunshot.
The young man bent down, picked up one half of the log, and repeated the process.
Thud!
Crack!
Thud!
Crack!
Again and again, until the massive log had turned into handy logs of firewood, ready to feed a warm fire on a chilly winter night.
The door of the cabin further up the hill opened, a young woman stepped out of the house, a bottle of water in her hand, and strolled down the path towards the timber yard. She held her face up to the last, warm rays of the autumn sun. The afternoon breeze carried a faint tint of peat fire and played with a few strands of golden hair that had escaped the thick braid that hung over one shoulder.
'You have been busy,' she said as she reached the timber yard and held the water bottle out to the young man.
He lowered the axe, took the bottle, and took a long gulp. 'Thank you, Daph,' he said, lowering the bottle, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'You're a lifesaver.'
'Anything for my favourite Auror, Mr Potter.' She put a hand on his bulging abs, let it trail down his arm, tossed back her braid and gave him a coy smile. 'Your hobby does you a world of good.'
His arm snaked around her waist, pulled her towards him, flush against his lean hard body. 'I'm glad you appreciate all the hard work, Miss Greengrass.' His mouth descended on hers.
She slipped her arms around his neck, and soon soft moans added to the sound of the wind rustling the low, greyish-green heather bushes around the cabin that boasted a last dusting of tiny, pink blossoms, and the harsh honking of a flock of geese high in the blue sky, on their way south across the Scottish highlands.
At last he released her and bent down to pick up the axe.
She gave him an adorable pout from slightly swollen lips.
He laughed. 'There's more of that tonight, I promise. Just let me finish my work while the weather's still fine. Winter's coming sooner than we know.'
She worried her lip with her teeth, pushed a strand of hair out of her face, and looked over the lumber yard. 'The work never ends, does it?'
He lowered the axe, and his gaze followed hers. There were at least a dozen tree trunks, stacked like a triangle at the edge of the lumber yard, and a huge woodpile that waited for the chopping block in front of them. At the other side of the timber yard the door to the woodshed stood ajar and offered a good view of neatly stacked rows of drying firewood, ready for the winter.
'Well, there will always be another winter, and more wood waiting to be chopped.' He gave her a warm smile and raised the axe again.
The applause reached a thundering crescendo the moment Harry and Neville stepped on the makeshift stage in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic and walked towards Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. They both wore their Auror dress uniform, with the Order of Merlin they had received after the Battle of Hogwarts pinned to it, first class for Harry and second class for Neville.
Minister Shacklebolt greeted them with a broad smile and a warm handshake.
'Senior Auror Potter, Auror Longbottom, on behalf of the magical population of Britain I'd like to thank you once again for your continued service to our country.'
Harry murmured something appropriate and searched for Daphne's face in the tiers put up for the members of the Wizengamot at the back of the atrium. Dozens of flashes from wizarding cameras blinded him and billowing purple smoke blocked his view of the crowd gathered below the stage. With an inward sigh, he turned his attention back to the minister.
The Minister for Magic's two assistants, Hermione Granger and Anthony Goldstein, stepped up beside him, each with an open jewel box in their hand. On a bed of dark blue velvet glittered the newly created Medal of Magical Merit, a badge of honour for Aurors who provided distinguished service to magical Britain.
Minister Shacklebolt held the tip of his wand to his throat. The big atrium went quiet, except for the continued wooshof camera flashes.
Harry breathed in the acrid smoke and suppressed the urge to cough.
The Minister for Magic picked up the medal from the case Hermione offered him and motioned Harry to come closer. 'Senior Auror Harry James Potter, it is a great honour to be the one to reward you with the first Medal of Magical Merit for your continued and extraordinary services to magical Britain. Even though the war has been over for more than five years, the threat of escaped Death Eaters, Snatchers and Werewolves is still a constant danger to our efforts in building a better world. Thanks to you and Auror Longbottom, parents all over Britain will sleep better tonight. Fenrir Greyback is without doubt the most dangerous creature that ever roamed our country. He -'
Harry tuned Shacklebolt out, he'd heard speeches like this at least once a year ever since the war ended, from the first time when he was awarded the Order of Merlin, and after that as regular as a clockwork each time the Aurors had rounded up a well-known Death Eater and brought to whatever counted for justice in magical Britain these days. There was no denying that the Ministry did their best, however, five years after the Second Bloodwar there were still… vast areas for improvement, to put it nicely.
He glanced across at Neville. His friend's face was composed and calm, none of his thoughts on the state of wizarding society shone through. He could only hope that his face showed the same calmness, Neville always had been better at the political game than him.
Shacklebolt concluded his speech, pinned the medal to Harry's robes, and gave him another handshake.
Harry stepped back with a slight bow to give Neville his moment in the limelight. While he joined the applause for his friend and partner, his eyes once again searched for his girlfriend.
There she was, hidden in the topmost tier, as was suitable for a new member of the Wizengamot, while the old farts promoted themselves in the front row in their heavily gold-embroidered robes of finest Acromantula silk. She gave him an almost imperceptible eye roll and blew him a kiss across the stage.
The ceremony came to an end and Hermione was the first to congratulate him. She gave him one of her trademark hugs and then stepped back and smoothed the lapel of his dress robes with her hands.
'Oh Harry, I'm so proud of you. Just look at you, Order of Merlin and Medal of Magical Merits!'
He replied what she expected, and she flashed him a broad smile, gave him another rib-cracking hug, and then hurried away in search for Minister Shacklebolt and to her many duties.
Harry drifted off the stage within the crowd of members of the Wizengamot and down the few steps into the atrium. There were many handshakes and slaps on his back and shoulders, among more camera flashes. He endured it all with a patience he would have found impossible during his Hogwarts days. They all wanted their moment of glory with the Vanquisher of Voldemort, the Man-Who-Lived-Twice, or whatever nonsense they called him these days. It was tiresome, but he'd learned to play the game well enough, thanks to his girlfriend. She was -
A sharp pain in his right buttock made him jump. He turned his head and looked into the piercing blue eyes of his girlfriend that held an impish smile.
'Phew!' He mock-swept his brow with the sleeve of his robes and put his mouth next to her ear. 'Thank Merlin it's you. For a moment I thought one of the old farts gave in to his lesser urges.'
She laughed and slid her arm around his waist. 'No worries, Auror Potter, you're mine and I'll cover your precious back, always.'
There was a reception in the atrium after the ceremony, with elven champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Harry and Daphne each took a glass of champagne and mingled with the crowds. A lot of mindless small talk later, they stood in a corner of the room, together with Neville, mostly obscured from the crowd by a huge potted plant.
'My congratulations, Neville,' Daphne said over the rim of her champagne flute, 'your grandmother must be ever so proud!'
Neville let out a harsh laugh. The polite, bland mask slipped for the first time that day, and his mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust. 'Oh yeah, she is, another feather in the cap of her famous grandson, the Snakeslayer, isn't it? But I ask you, Daph, what's the point? Yes, we've captured Greyback, but for how long will he stay in Azkaban, if he even gets there. Tell me, how many Death Eaters and prominent Snatchers did we catch over the last few years? How many times were Aurors lauded in front of the Wizengamot and the press for that? And how many times did the Wizengamot let these terrorists run off with a slap on their wrists because they were imperiused? Goyle senior and junior, Nott senior and his two sons, Parkinson, and both Malfoys, they all got off because they were imperiused! And for those they actually put into Azkaban: how many of them escaped because of a yet undiscovered leak in security?' He finished his rant. His chest heaved, and he was rather red in the face. With another disgusted snarl, he emptied the glass of champagne in his hand in one long swallow.
Harry exchanged a long look with his girlfriend. Neville was right. The Aurors worked their arses off and risked their lives, only to get their sacrifices slapped in their faces by the Pureblood faction on the Wizengamot. History was repeating itself, and the mistakes of the First Bloodwar were being made again.
Daphne put a calming hand on Neville's arm. 'You know that my faction is working on that problem, and Minister Shacklebolt is an honourable man, he has already worked miracles in the Ministry by weeding out as many of the hidden supporters of Voldemort as possible. However, these things take time.'
Neville snatched another glass of champagne from a tray one of the ministry's elves carried around. 'Too much time, if you ask me. Sorry, Daph, I know you mean well, but this is going too slowly. That will come back and bite us in the arse one day.' He took another sip and turned to Harry. 'I wish you'd use your influence, I know you'd make a difference.'
Harry held up his hands. 'I'm not a politician, Nev, so I'm better leaving that to Daphne. She can count on me throwing my name behind her whenever she needs my support.'
Neville's shoulders slumped. 'I know, it's just all so slow and frustrating…' He trailed off and took another sip. 'On top of that all, those damned Death Eaters have gone missing, Robards insists that they have been executed, and it's down to Harry and I have to investigate their alleged murders, with no progress so far. Do you believe in that vigilante group theory, Harry? I don't, we should've found at least something by now, but there's nothing. My guess is they all left the country. The Azkaban escapees probably join them too.'
'Good for them.' Harry grinned and put an arm around his girlfriend. 'That leaves me time for the things in life that are really important.'
She looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow. 'And they are, Mr Potter?'
'Chopping wood of course, and you.'
The sky had the colour of unbleached bed linen as Harry stepped into the big combined kitchen, dining room and living room area of the log cabin he'd built himself in a remote part of the Scottish highlands, not far away from Hogwarts, a few months after the end of the Second Bloodwar. Snow was falling outside like feathers falling out of a ripped duvet.
Daphne sat at the round dining table, staring out at the wintery scene. She had her elbows resting on the table top, a mug of steaming tea cradled in both hands. Her long, golden hair, was loose and hung down her back in gleaming locks, the way he liked it best, not yet captured in the sensible braid she wore when puttering around the cabin, or the coiffed chignon of her Member of the Wizengamot personality.
He wrapped a silken golden strand around his fingers and bent down to kiss her good morning.
Startled out of her thoughts, she turned towards him, a smile on her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. She responded to his kiss, yet there was a tautness in her posture that made him retreat almost immediately.
'What happened?'
She sighed, picked up the newest edition of The Daily Prophet that laid next to her elbow, and held it out to him. 'See for yourself.'
He took the newspaper, his eyebrows creased together in a slight frown, and sat down beside her. The faint lines of worry around her mouth didn't bode well. He braced himself and unfolded the newspaper.
Fenrir Greyback's face snarled at him.
He didn't need to read more. He put the newspaper back onto the table and poured himself a cup of tea. 'So, we have another Azkaban escapee.'
'You are taking it remarkably well.'
Harry shrugged and took a sip. 'Well, that was to be expected, wasn't it?'
'Yeah.' The lines of worry around her mouth deepened. 'What are you going to do now?'
'Cut down another tree and chop more wood, I guess. Winter is here.'
She jerked around in her seat and grabbed his arm. 'Harry…' She trailed off and bit her lip. 'Can I help?'
He took her hand with his free one and gave it a soft squeeze. 'I'd like that. Tree felling can be a dangerous business, they can be right mean bastards.'
A tiny sound escaped her mouth. Was it a sob? She leaned her head against his shoulder, and together they stared into the falling snow.
The snowflakes were big and started to settle, coating the woodpile in a thin layer of snow.
Daphne motioned with her chin towards the snow-blurred landscape outside of the window. 'It won't last.'
Harry put his mug down with a sigh. 'It never does, so much I've learned. But it is a right pain in the arse as long as it does.'
These days nobody except random visitors took notice when he rode the elevator at the Ministry of Magic. Harry stepped into the cabin, nodded at the few familiar faces, and pulled a folder out of the inner pocket of his Auror robes. His back leaned against the wall of the elevator. He renewed his memory of the facts pertaining to the tough case he would discuss with Minister Shacklebolt, Head Auror Robards and his Auror partner, Neville, in a few minutes. His eyes still glued to the parchment, he stepped out of the cabin.
A solid wall met him.
'Oof!'
The solid wall swayed, toppled over, and an avalanche of books rained down on him.
'Harry! I'm sorry!' Hermione cried. She tried to prevent the last of the stack of books she carried on her arms from falling down. In vain, they followed their brothers and added to the heap at her feet. She bent down to pick them up.
Harry shook his head. 'Are you a witch or what?' He flicked his wand, the books floated into the air and arranged themselves into a neat stack. Another flick, and the stack shrunk down to a manageable size.
Hermione flushed. 'I should've thought of that myself.'
'Even the brightest witch of her age has dumb moments.' Harry grinned as Hermione huffed at him and pointed with his chin towards the now small stack of books. 'What's that about?'
'Oh, that's just some light research material I got from the Ministry's library.'
'Light, indeed.' Harry rubbed his chest where the books had hit him.
'I said I was sorry. Alright, I'll make up to you. What about dinner with Ron and I tonight? You and Daphne haven't been over in ages.'
'Sounds lovely, but I have to decline. I'm meeting somebody over a new trunk for my lumber yard. I've got my eye on a big one which has to be felled tonight.'
'You and your hobby!' Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Don't you ever tire of chopping all that wood?'
'The winters are long and hard in the highlands. As an added plus, Daphne likes the benefits, especially when I take my shirt off.'
Hermione gagged at that. 'Spare me the details, please.' The next moment a grin split her face. 'Maybe you should ask Ron to join you in your hobby. It would do him a world of good.'
He grinned. 'It still remains to be seen who'll reap the most benefits from that.'
She went bright red and glared at him.
'That doesn't work anymore, Hermione.' If possible, his grin became even broader. 'Although I hate to say it, I doubt these days Ron still has the stamina to keep up with me. He seems pretty content with the shop and inventing new joke products.'
Her face softened. 'Yeah, I guess our days of adventure are over. Not that I complain about it, it was scary enough in the old days. It's different for you, though, you're an Auror, you never quit hunting the bad guys.'
'Right.' Harry gave his best friend a warm smile. 'What about dinner at our place on Saturday?'
She gave him a quick nod. 'Saturday it is. Tell Daphne that I said hello, will you?' With a small wave at him, she walked down the corridor towards her office.
'Hold still for Merlin's sake! How am I supposed to close this gash when you're squirming like an eel?'
'Yes, love.' Perched on the edge of the bathtub in their bathroom, Harry clenched his jaw and forced himself not to move a muscle while his girlfriend waved her wand across his side in an intricate pattern. Damn, that hurt!
'Serves you right,' she said, reading his expression with the practised ease of a long relationship. 'One day you will kill yourself, Harry.' Her voice quivered.
He didn't dare look up, the sight of tears in those big blue eyes was something he couldn't bear. He reached for her free hand. 'I'm sorry, love.'
'No, you're not. You'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if you thought it necessary.'
Harry's mouth curved into a faint smile. She knew him too well. Yet he knew better than to acknowledge that aloud, he'd already had one narrow escape tonight and didn't want to tempt fate twice.
She slapped a big plaster on the now closed wound. 'There, all done!'
Harry winced and took in a sharp breath.
Daphne rummaged in the small cupboard of their bathroom and handed him a vial of Pain Relief Potion and another one with Blood Replenishing Potion.
He downed the Pain Relief Potion in one gulp. Relief was instant. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, then opened the second vial and drank.
Daphne slammed the door of the potion cabinet shut.
A faint grin appeared on Harry's lips. She always slammed the doors of cupboards when she was upset with him. Well, she had every reason to be, he'd been careless. If it hadn't been for her, the adventures of Harry Potter would've come to a screeching halt tonight.
'You ought to show that wound to a Healer tomorrow, Harry. Merlin only knows how that wound will heal… If ever. At least it wasn't the full moon tonight.'
'You know that I can't see a Healer, Daph. That would lead to questions I can't answer. Do you want to see me in Azkaban?'
'Of course not.' She lowered her head, bit her lip, and wrapped her arms around her torso.
His heart melted on the spot; he hated to see her like this, all vulnerable and scared because of him. He pushed himself up from the edge of the bathtub and took her in his arms.
Even though she pressed her head against his bare chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, there remained an unmistakable tension in her body. 'Promise me this was the last time, Harry.'
'You know I can't.'
She stiffened in his arms. 'Wrong, Harry, you won't, there's a difference.'
She really knew him too well. How was he supposed to answer? They'd been through this so many times, his fear for her safety and the safety of the children they would have some day was valid. There had been an attempt to kill Daphne to get back at him not long after their relationship became public. Malfoy was behind it. He and Neville had collected all the evidence, yet the case never went to court. Robards had deemed the evidence as "not sufficient."
A fish rots from the head down. That day he'd understood the meaning of the old proverb, and he'd also understood that it was once again up to him to ensure the safety of those he loved.
He let her statement stand between them and rubbed her back in soothing circles until she relaxed under his ministrations.
She leaned back in his arms and looked him in the eyes. 'Why do I love you so much?'
'Because you're a sophisticated lady and nothing turns you on like a badass Auror.'
Harry put the last log into the fire, stood up, and dusted his hands off on his jeans.
'Oh, this is so cozy!' Hermione sighed, slipped out of her flats, and wriggled her toes in the toasty warmth that emanated from the fireplace. 'I think I begin to understand why you chop so much wood, Harry.'
'I told you the Scottish nights are cold,' Harry said.
Ron motioned with the glass of Firewhisky in his hand towards the stack of firewood next to the fireplace in Harry's and Daphne's cabin. 'Did you cut down the tree that came from all by yourself?'
Harry sat down next to his girlfriend in the loveseat. 'No, I had help with that one. Daphne insisted on coming with me. Good thing, too, that one was a mean bastard and almost got me when I brought it down.'
'Language, Harry.' Hermione's response, rehearsed by long practise, sounded half-hearted. Cuddled against her fiancée, she relished the warmth of the open fire and didn't notice how Daphne jumped at Harry's words, or how her hand flew up to touch him, as if to make sure he was still beside her safe and sound.
Harry caught her hand and pressed a kiss on her palm. He and Daphne shared a long look.
'You know you two lovebirds are nauseating, don't you?' Ron downed his Firewhisky and held the glass out to Harry for a refill.
'Ronald!' Hermione admonished him with a slight slap on the chest. 'I swear, you still have the emotional range of a teaspoon. No, don't give him another one, Harry, he's had quite enough for tonight. You'd better tell me how the search for Greyback is coming along.'
'So far, we've seen neither hide nor hair of him.' He bent over, reached for the bottle on the low coffee table, and poured a generous amount into Ron's, Daphne's and his glass. 'I guess he got himself an illegal Portkey and made it out of the country straight after his escape from Azkaban.'
Hermione picked up Ron's glass before he could get at it and took a sip. 'That suggests he had help.' Her brows creased in deep thought as she leaned back against Ron's chest.
'That was always a given,' Daphne said. 'Azkaban's wards are the latest in magitechnical development, Minister Shacklebolt made sure of that when he got rid of the Dementors after the war. Yet time after time there are breakouts. That's not possible without inside help.'
'Corrupt guards, you might as well say it, love. It's about time Kingsley sorts that place out.'
Hermione shot up. 'Kingsley can only fight so many battles at once, Harry. You know he is a good man, he already put order into the Ministry, the corruption has decreased. However,...' She launched into a long rant about the many obstacles put into the Minister's way by incompetent department heads who couldn't be removed, and by the traditionalists on the Wizengamot.
Harry leaned back in his seat and nursed his drink. Daphne leaned against him, and his free hand played with a strand of her hair she wore down that night. Her hand rested on his chest, and together they listened to how Hermione blew off steam, as so many times before.
'I can't understand why most wizards and witches are contend to leave things as they are. You'd think after all we've been through there has to be an outcry at the blatant corruption that is still going on. You're no exception, Harry, yes, you're doing an impressive job as an Auror, but you could use your influence to make a difference. Instead you insist on your privacy and time to pursue your hobbies.'
'Busted.' Harry gave his friend an indulgent smile. 'I've done enough, I think. I'm letting Daphne play politics, she's much better at that than I will ever be. Even though she's not been on the Wizengamot that long, she's already beginning to make an impact.'
Daphne leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek. 'Well, I've got the support of the Saviour of the Wizarding World behind me, that's making everything so much easier.'
'We have the perfect division of tasks.' Harry grinned at Hermione. 'Daphne deals with the traditionalist old farts, and I chop wood.'
Hermione huffed.
In the darkest hours of the night, the small flames of the dying fire in the fireplace illuminated the young couple on the sheepskin rug, their limbs entangled.
Harry trailed a line of kisses down the jawbone of the woman in his arms, and she responded with a soft moan and a roll of her hips.
He gave her one last kiss. 'You're insatiable, aren't you?'
Daphne pouted. 'Only when it comes to you.'
Harry chuckled and rolled off her. 'Sorry, love, but little Harry is temporarily out of service.'
She pouted again, sat up and wrapped her arms around her torso. 'It's getting cold inside here, the fire's dying down.'
'Again?' Harry got up with a sigh and walked to the stack of firewood next to the fireplace. The low flames cast eerie shadows over his naked body. 'A lot of hot air and little substance. What else do you expect from a Malfoy?' He picked up a log of firewood and tossed it into the flames.
At once, greedy tongues of fire licked at the log, grey smoke emanated from the dry wood, and moments later it was ablaze with fire.
Harry dusted off his hands and lay down next to his girlfriend once again. 'That was the last of him. Goyle is next; hope he lasts longer, although I doubt it.'
The End