Author's Note:
I was worried I wouldn't post this week because I wouldn't be in the right head space, but I think trying to get back to normal is the best course of action. But I just want to say thank you to those of you who follow me on tumblr and sent me kind words, kind thoughts, and kind prayers over the last few days.
For those who didn't see my post, I lost my mim on the first of September and it's been a tough week for me. She was ninety years old and honestly, a mother and a best friend to me. I was at her house six days a week as a kid as when my parents divorced, my mum needed help. We went on long walks, we read books, we watched her soaps, she taught me to bake pies and make pot roast, pasta, and fresh bread. When I got my license, I would take her shopping once a week. We'd walk through the mall, go to lunch, or take a long drive somewhere. She was the first person I called whenever something exciting happened or if I was sad. Four years ago, she collapsed the day after her 86th birthday and when we rushed her to hospital, we found she needed surgery as her kidneys were failing. She recovered but was never quite the same. For ten years, she's been suffering from Parkinson's and her hands were so bad we had to help her drink and eat. We moved her into a nursing home and my Pipi took it hard until we were able to get him into the same home a year later. But Mim had Alzheimer's as well and that was hard, watching her stare at you like she didn't know who you were. My Pipi passed away in October of 2017 at 91, they were married for 67 years, and my Mim knew he was gone, but didn't quite know he was gone. I'd go visit her and she would talk all about her granddaughter who brought her books and studied history not realizing that said granddaughter was the one she was talking to. She's been in congestive heart failure for the last two months and three times, my mom has been called to say her final goodbyes (with COVID, visits have been almost impossible outside of for my mom and uncle) and three times she made a miraculous recovery. On Tuesday, she was fine at dinner and when the nurse checked on her thirty minutes later, she had passed away in her sleep. Even knowing it was coming, it was still a shock and I've just been numb and a bit of a mess all week.
So, thank you for those who were understanding.
Reviews and Comments: To Hellpony: I don't know what A Curse's Cure is so I don't think I referenced it, I just made up a name and thought it would be fun to have an elusive sixteenth century pirate in the Potter family history. To PurpleLotus: Thank you for always loving what I post. To RedheadLover: Looks like you're cutting onions, not me LOL. To Savageness321: You're welcome, always happy when someone likes how my chapter ends. To Leapyearbaby29: Voldemort didn't notice it was a fake because the way I see it, he's too overconfident. He would never imagine that anyone could know what he had done, let alone put a fake one in its place. It doesn't even register to him that he has to check it and also, I like to think that touching something with part of his soul in it, would pull at him in some way and maybe be a feeling that he doesn't want to feel so he avoids touching it or looking too closely at it for that reason.
To Seriously Sam: Idea of you reading "Blaise lit up his bed with his wand" and thinking he was setting his bed on fire made me laugh much harder than it should have. Yes! That would have escalated VERY quickly. The Slytherin boys are parsley, I love that! Of course Remus helps Blaise! He's just that kind of teacher. I wanted Hermione to compare them in her head, to show the difference in that sweet first love to what she feels for Ron as being very different. I love writing Blaise as being that kind of friend.
To Dianne: I'm glad I have people questioning Blaise, I hope I have some surprises there. Bleur, LOL, I don't know? Fill? Billeur? And no worries, this chapter has some Seamus and Dean and others. To White Squirrel: I got the information on the Patronus Charm from Pottermore and Harry Potter wiki and that included the maggots, I found it interesting. To Tmrpotterhead250: Thank you! And I agree, Bill and Fleur's love story should be told — you should check out More Than Just A Pretty Face by LilyEvansJan30. It's full of great Bill and Fleur missing moments. Thank you for saying my world-building and character depth are levels that you aspire to. To Bumlewis: I feel so special that you leave me reviews, even if it's just to tell me I made you cry. And I love me some girl bonding. To ScoutGinevra: Thank you. I like to write jumping between people, events, days and times in one chapter because it keeps it interesting for me so it's an extra bonus when it works for others too. To pix25: Theo deserves some romance. To alix33: No one is as romantic as Finn, so we'll see.
To libs614: I'm happy you found the Blaise stuff fascinating and I love how much you love Feo. To tim2604: Velvet is amazing and it's fun when other authors help you with little things. I think the Hinny in this chapter will make up for the lack there of in the last. To TheaTypes24: Ron and Harry will definitely appreciate them, don't you worry. Zee is doing okay, we'll see her again soon. To Steelcode: Blaise will not be going to Harry for advice, too stubborn for that, and he has his own secrets to keep afterall. To speedsONEandONLY: Ha, I think Hermione hopes Ginny won't resort to Fred and George-like tactics. To FrivolousFox: Thank you for dropping a first review and for loving the Realm Glass, I wish it was real as well. I like talking about other characters and building upon their personalities including the finances and family details so I'm glad you're enjoying it. To adelkins83: Wow, over a month and caught up, thank you! To Wolf's scream: Yes, it would be scabbard, but I wanted to use the word sword holster. To The Go1den Snitch: Thank you for saying that I "have interwoven JKR's world and" my "own is so beautiful." You think I'm going to fake Theo's death and have him hide out in Tara? Interesting. We'll have to wait and see.
To coconut5639: Thank you! If you read on Ao3, why did you comment on fanfiction instead? Just wondering, but your comments are much appreciated! To starflower23: I think it's so cool that people from all over the world read my story, so thank you for telling me you're from Germany, that's amazing. I loved writing Harry growing up with Sirius and Remus and I think they did a bang-up job as well. There's more Hinny smut to come so I'm happy you love it, because I love writing it! More Remus will be coming soon as well, I promise. To .wills15: Finn and Theo are the best, I agree and thank you for saying it's your favourite fan fiction. To Menna Taha: Lucius is a coward and his love his family is one of the only good things about him. And please, scream at Blaise LOL. To : We all need a Finn in our lives LOL.
My posting schedule: Once a week.
Thanks to Dusk for her amazing editing skills.
As always, thank you very much for reading and please, please review!
Your reviews give me life! They give me inspiration! And they make me want to keep writing for more than just myself! Thank you for all of your continued support!
CHAPTER TWO-HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE:
Harry found that the new potions aspect of Defence Club was interesting. The brewing was standard and he found that he even enjoyed it for the most part, but Slughorn was something else. He wasn't sure that he quite had a word to describe him. For one thing, he had never met anyone more different from Snape in his life. He was so jolly and all smiles and he was always latching onto people by their last name and speaking to them about famous people in their families or people they had a connection to.
Harry found it annoying and yet oddly entertaining at the same time. Slughorn seemed to know something about everybody, including whether or not they were worth speaking to. That was the part he found annoying and rude. Yet, Slughorn offered compliments, rather than snide remarks, when potions were brewed correctly. When someone had a question, he actually answered them as opposed to sneering and making a comment in regards to their inability to follow simple instructions. Slughorn always seemed to find time to pull Harry aside and see what his thoughts were on things. He praised him over his potions and claimed that he had his mother's talent and his grandfather's skills. The compliments made him smile as Harry rather liked being compared to his mum and his grandfather as opposed to it always being his dad. It was nice to know he had similarities to the rest of his family just as much.
The thing was, the potions book that Slughorn had assigned them to use was Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage, a book that Snape didn't recommend until seventh year as he felt that they weren't yet capable of properly brewing the potions it contained. According to Snape, the book contained potions that imbeciles couldn't brew and he didn't trust them not to blow themselves up yet. Since the Borage book was being used by the Defence Club and not officially for a class, Slughorn found an old stack of them in the potions classroom cabinet and passed them out for everyone to use.
It was Harry's misfortune to get the last one in the stack. It was covered in ink. The cover was falling off and it looked like it had been well-used by its previous owner. There were notes in the margins, things crossed out, and Harry found himself squinting to read the tiny writing.
Harry soon discovered that the writing was more than just notes, but detailed instructions on how to make the potion better, tips to brew perfect concoctions, and great notes on how to make them succeed more. From the smooth surface of his wit-sharpening potion to an even more perfect blend of a draught of living death, Harry was beginning to think that the notes scrawled in the book were definitely in his favour.
Hermione scowled at the notes and claimed that Harry had cheated. Slughorn praised him even more and Harry took the book with him after the second lesson. Hermione's scowls made him go straight up to his dormitory to examine the book more closely. He didn't think that it was cheating when he only was following the instructions in the textbook, even if a good majority of the instructions had been crossed out and changed to suit the writer's needs.
The thing was, the writing looked oddly familiar.
Harry kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie before he stretched out in his four-poster, flipping through the book absently, eyes on the writing. He read over the tips on crushing certain ingredients rather than cutting them, tips about how to change the direction of one's stirring to get it just right and he frowned… it was all so familiar to him. There was something about the tone of the writing and the writing itself that gave him a distinct sense of déjà vu. He looked up when the bed curtains opened and Ginny crawled into the bed with him.
"Hi. Why are you in here brooding?"
Harry smiled at her as she moved to snuggle herself into his side. "Not brooding, just thinking."
"With you that's basically the same," Ginny said, making him chuckle. "Hermione comes off a little strong sometimes, we know that, but you can't hide from her."
"I'm not hiding from her," Harry said defensively. "Have I fallen that low that you think I'm hiding from Hermione Granger?"
"Well, she can be pretty intense sometimes," Ginny admitted. "And I for one wouldn't want to be on the end of her wand."
Harry contemplated being at the end of her wand for a moment and winced. "Okay, fair point. But no, I'm not hiding."
Ginny stared at the pages of the book as he flipped them absently. "What is it? That book has clearly seen better days."
"The writing, it's familiar… isn't it?"
Ginny frowned as she looked closely at it. "I'm not sure."
Harry handed her the book and she looked closer, inspecting it carefully before she flipped to the front page.
"Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage, published in 1945," she read before flipping back to the page that Harry had been examining and continuing to read aloud:
Alchemists enjoyed prestige and support through the centuries, though not for their pursuit of those goals, nor the mystic and philosophical speculation that dominates their literature. Rather it was for their mundane contributions to the chemical industries of the day the invention of gunpowder, ore testing and refining, metal working, production of ink, dyes, paints, and cosmetics, leather tanning, ceramics and glass manufacture, preparation of extracts & liquors, and so on It seems that the preparation of aqua vitae, the "water of life," was a fairly popular "experiment" among Europeans. For one thing, the lack of common words for chemical concepts and processes, as well as the need for secrecy, led alchemists to borrow the terms and symbols of biblical and pagan mythology, astrology, kabbalah, and other mystic and esoteric fields; so that even the plainest chemical recipe ended up reading like an obtuse magic incantation.
"Fascinating," Ginny said.
"Hardly," Harry admitted. "Potions, Transmutation, and Alchemy, they're all combined and co-exist with each other. We already know this. That's Potions one-oh-one."
"Yes," Ginny said. "But it can still be interesting. Besides as Slughorn was saying, 'You have Potions in your blood, m'boy!'"
Harry snorted at her rather spot on account of Slughorn's praising. "I can do the work, but I'm definitely not a Potioneer by any means."
Ginny nodded, turning the book to read the writing on the side. "Here it's difficult to read some words, but 'Preparation of effective potions is best explained by alchemists. As soon as the potion ferments, add the solution to let the fermentation process continue. Once it begins, place it in ceramic and heat adjacent as the potion can become volatile if not properly stored similar to when working with an alchemical process.' It looks like the person was editing the text."
Harry frowned at that, taking the book back. "More than simply editing. Here it claims that Borage has it all wrong and that 'Alchemists attempted to purify, mature, and perfect certain not all materials. Common aims were chrysopoeia, the transmutation of base metals such as lead into "noble metals" like gold, the creation of an elixir of immortality, the creation of panaceas able to cure any disease, and the development of an alkahest, a universal solvent. The perfection of the human body and soul was thought to permit or result from the alchemical magnum opus and, in the Hellenistic and Western mystery tradition, the achievement of gnosis. In Europe, the creation of the Philosopher's Stone was variously connected with all of these projects, most infamously by the alchemist Nicholas Flamel.' And under here, it says, 'A true potion-maker understands the direct approach between alchemy and potion-making including which ingredients to substitute when certain things aren't available.' See, more things are crossed out over here and here at the bottom the writer suggests that one look into the Jigger's Potions Opuscule as it 'provides a more in-depth look into the subtle art that is potion making.'"
"Why would someone spend so much time editing a textbook?" Ginny asked, moving down to lie on her back, her head resting over Harry's stomach.
Harry shrugged, his hand automatically reaching down to play with her hair. "I don't know, it doesn't make much sense to me either. It's not just edits in here… look on the first few pages, it's like someone rewrote the whole introduction to the book."
Ginny took it from him and began to read it aloud, squinting at the small neat calligraphy written between and around the text of the book:
"Potions are the most tricky and precise form of physical magic. In ancient times, witches were always associated with potions and potion-brewing: They brewed beauty potions, transmogrification potions, and invisibility potions most often. Potion brewing in ancient times was often viewed as practice fuelled by selfish and ill intent, but literature throughout the ages is filled to the brim with potions: Love potions, fortune potions, invisibility or invincibility potions, and especially potions that affect one's size.
The term potion comes from the Latin word "potio," meaning "to drink." Even primitive potions were able to induce sleep, cause paralysis, poison the body, or cloud the brain, and have been used for ages, both to help and to harm. Potions often contain obscure ingredients – things that one often would not consume alone. This is a testament to the true bravery that potion brewing and consuming requires; and thus, many wizards and ancient Muggles alike opted for the easier path using spells or charms. Potions from ancient Rome and Greece included ingredients such as bats' blood, crushed beetles, feathers, bird and animal claws, snake skeletons or skins, and many different herbs. Animal parts were often used because it was believed that by consuming part of an animal, you would gain their qualities. For example, by drinking a potion containing bats' blood, you were supposed to be able to see in the dark (or simply gain highly improved vision). Tortoise shells would increase your lifespan and rabbit's feet would increase your speed."
Ginny frowned, turning her head to look over at Harry. "Bats blood is just gross. I definitely wouldn't be drinking these old potions."
Harry chuckled. "You would if a Healer told you it would cure you."
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and continued to read:
Modern day Polyjuice Potions reflect this ancient belief as having some truth behind it: These potions require "extract of The-Transfigured-Being-To-Be," which is often their hair. This could also be why people were often warned against leaving their belongings places, as it was thought that an evil person could come along and transfigure into you or gain your qualities. Toads were often used in ancient potions as well, but this has a basis in science – toads secrete a nasty chemical when they are frightened, and so these chemicals would seep into a potion, thus causing many hallucinations. This most likely explains most of the reported "working" potions that Muggles brewed.
The most sought-after potion by far is definitely the love potion, known as "philter" in the ancient times. These brews are banned in many places among the modern Wizarding world. However, that doesn't stop many people from using them, or from trying to brew one that is permanent and/or true. In ancient times, women were more found of love potions whereas men were more fond of spells that induced love, affection, or benefits to aid in acquiring the aforementioned. Ancient love potions had very specific ingredients (one recipe calls for "the skeleton of the left side of a toad that had been eaten by ants), but many people fell ill from love potions and thus philters were outlawed world-wide. In the Middle Ages, love potions became more herbal than animal-bases – typically including oranges, mandrake root, verbain, and fern seeds mixed with water, tea, or wine. The Middle Ages sought to mimic love within a potion, using pleasant scents and colours. Modern Wizarding love potions often contain ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, and moonstone.
Potions in the modern Wizarding world are defined as "magical mixtures brewed in cauldrons, used to create various effects on the drinker." Potions are brewed from ingredients with magical properties, most often herbs and plant parts as well as parts of magical beasts such as the horns, eggs, or mucus. They can be used as medicines, poisons, or practically any beneficial or malicious effect imaginable. Not all potions have to be drunk for their effects to take place (an example being Regeneration Potion.)
Potions are regarded as the most difficult form of physical magic, as they take plenty of time and precise attention to detail. A single drop too much or too little, a single moment of too much or too little heat, etc, can destroy an entire potion. One misstep is all it takes to negate a potion's effect complete – and some disasters can even melt the cauldron you're brewing in! Potion brewing in this sense can be dangerous, but some of the strongest potions are highly dangerous to use or drink as well. Because of this, potions are often highly monitored by both their brewers and the Ministry of Magic. A powerful potion in the wrong hands could do an immense amount of damage, just like it could do an immense amount of benefit in the right hands.
She stopped reading and looked over at him. "Whoever wrote this explains potions much clearer than Snape ever did."
Harry grinned. "I imagine anyone would explain potion-making better than Snape would. His approach is more, 'don't blow anything up, go,' and then when some inevitably makes a mistake he's like, 'you're stupid.'"
"Well, only to like ninety-nine percent of his class."
He snorted. "Oh, sorry. That obviously makes it better."
Ginny grinned and turned back to the book. "Look at this, the writing goes on to break potions down even more: Potions have a distinct advantage over typical spells in that they could be used even by the non-Magical, provided that they have the potion itself at their disposal. There are also certain magical effects that can only be induced through the use of potions. Some potions duplicate the effects of spells and charms, but a few (for instance, the Polyjuice Potion, and Felix Felicis) have effects impossible to achieve any other way. Potions are not for the impatient, but their effects are usually difficult to undo by any but another skilled potioneer. This branch of magic carries a certain mystique and therefore status. There is also the dark cachet of handling substances that are highly dangerous. Potion brewing always requires some degree of wand work to complete the brewing process. Hence, non-magic people cannot brew them even if given the ingredients and instructions, as it would only result in nasty-tasting (and possibly poisonous) soup with no magical effect whatsoever."
"I read that somewhere before," Harry said, his brow furrowing. "It's not just the writing itself, but those words…"
Ginny frowned, rolling over onto her stomach, her face moving next to his shoulder. "It's not from Jigger's books. I just went through the introductions again last week when I was doing research for my assignment."
"I don't know then," Harry admitted, his eyes glancing at where her skirt had risen up when she put her legs up in the air revealing the edge of her garter and the top of her nylons. "I'm sure it will come to me. I hope. It's not just the rewriting of the introduction though and editing everything… some of it is actual changing of how the potions are brewed. It says 'when brewing a Draught of Living Death, crushing the Sopophorous bean with the flat side of a silver dagger releases the juices much better than cutting them. Then add one clockwise stir after seven anticlockwise stirs to obtain the clear colour faster.' This is what I did and it turned out perfectly, better than anyone else's actually which is why Hermione has her knickers in a twist."
"And the textbook doesn't suggest the clockwise stir in the directions?"
Harry shook his head. "No. It just says to chop the Sopophorous bean into small pieces not to crush them." He flipped the pages again. "Look, here across the top it says to 'shove a bezoar down the victim's throat if one has been poisoned.'"
"Yes, but Snape says that in day one of all of his Potions classes. He's very clear on it."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Not all of us pay attention to Snape, Ginny."
She smiled. "In the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, they've changed all of the directions: Stir twice instead of three times, let simmer an extra minute longer, and add a sprig of peppermint to counter excessive singing and nose-tweaking side-effects.' That's actually just entertaining."
"I mean, whoever wrote the corrections in here is quite ingenious, right?"
Ginny nodded, flipping the pages more, her other hand absently running circles over his stomach. "Yes, I say they are a very skilled Potioneer themselves. Look here, Harry."
Harry looked to where she was pointing and saw the new words written in the margins.
Amortentia smells like coconuts, chocolate chip biscuits, and broomstick polish.
"Why is that writing different?"
"Well, obviously someone else wrote it," Ginny said.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I can see that, Ginny. I just meant, everything is this lovely sloped calligraphy or tiny cramped scrawls and then this is more…"
"Like yours," Ginny said, drawing the letters out on his stomach through his shirt. "See how the A is a little slanted and the H has a flourish on the end just like you."
Harry frowned as he stared at the writing. He flipped the pages again and on the first page of the book above the title and publication written in curved tiny cramped writing: This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince. He flipped more aggressively and found more notes at the end of the chapter on alchemic potions in the same writing as the amorentia statement.
E sat in front and brewed a perfect Felix Felicis; wand movements were flawless.
Your potion is bubbling over, daydreamer. How do I make mine more gold? I think it's turned orange.
Sluggy's face is not impressed with my failed potion — ability to follow instructions, negative.
Harry was staring down at the book, a frown burrowed between his brows. "Ginny… I think… I think this is my dad's writing."
Ginny's eyebrow rose. "Really?"
He nodded. "I mean, E… my dad always called my mum by her last name, Evans, and this… this is Uncle Siri's writing."
"But the notes and diagrams all in the margins, that's not your dad's or Sirius' writing?"
"No," he agreed. "That's someone else's."
"The Half-Blood Prince?"
"Well, it's tiny enough but no, I don't think all of it is his either. I mean, look, that's small and cramped where the edits here are more loopy and more… professional looking? It's really very nice calligraphy actually."
Ginny nodded, examining the different writing styles. "The Half-Blood Prince corrected some potions here too, that's his writing about the peppermint addition, not the other one editing."
Harry frowned. "And here, it says, 'Langlock.'"
"Is that important?"
"Uncle Remus invented it when he was at school. He said that he and my dad used it on Peeves when he got too annoying or tried to interrupt one of their pranks. Here too, 'Muffliato,' Uncle Sirius and my dad invented that spell. He said that he and my dad figured out how to mute the sounds around them so that they could plan pranks without the professors knowing they were responsible. Uncle Siri found it helpful for when he was at home as well. He said it was great for tuning out his mum."
Ginny stared at the book. "What about this one? It looks like your dad's writing — Sectumsempra "for enemies" with a question mark on the end of it?"
"I don't know."
Ginny squinted at the book herself. "Just how many people vandalized this book?"
He chuckled. "I'd say a fair share."
"You should show it to Remus. He would probably be able to tell you more about it. He might even know who the Half-Blood Prince is."
He nodded, his eyes still on the edits of the page. "Maybe. Ginny, I swear I've seen this writing somewhere before. And who is the Half-Blood Prince? Why would anyone want to call attention to that as one's name? The magical world doesn't have a royal family."
"No, we don't," Ginny agreed. "But beings like the fae do or the Merpeople? Theo's Finn is a prince."
"Yes, but none of them would have studied potions at Hogwarts when this book was vandalized."
"True," Ginny said. She took the book from his hands and closed it, tossing it on the end of his bed. "Now, do you really want to talk about the writing in some old textbook?" She slid her hands over his stomach through his shirt and smiled up at him before her hand slipped down to dance along his thigh. "I mean, I am here, in your bed."
"Definitely thinking of other things," Harry said, taking her hand in his.
"Good," Ginny replied, her eyes twinkling when Harry's mouth met hers.
His body covered hers as their lips met and Harry sighed when Ginny's hands slid under his shirt and up his back. The feel of her under him, all lean limbs and soft curves, made him sigh in pleasure. He dropped his lips down to her neck, sucking the skin there before he made quick work of the buttons on her shirt. Ginny was soon doing the same and he smiled at her as she tugged his shirt open and off. Then she was tugging the undershirt up and over his head as well until he was just in his black trousers and his Gryffindor tie.
"I rather like this look," Ginny told him, sliding her hands up his chest.
Harry bent his head to kiss the swells of her breasts. "I think you have too many clothes on."
Ginny's lips twitched. "Maybe you should do something about that, Mr Potter."
Harry's mouth continued to roam over her neck and collarbone as he loosened her tie, but like her, he didn't take it off. Instead, he slid her blouse over her shoulders and tugged off the white vest beneath. His breath hitched when he saw the light purple lace that held her breasts.
"Godric, you're so beautiful."
Ginny grabbed his tie and used it to pull his mouth back to hers to kiss him deeply. His hands cupped her through the lace, kneading and rubbing. Harry kissed his way back down her neck, lingering on her collarbone, kissing between her cleavage with a soft smile on his face.
He loved her breasts. He loved the size of them, the feel of them, the taste of them. He loved the freckles on them. He loved the soft pink of her nipples against her alabaster skin. He loved that they smelt like her: Wildflowers and honeysuckle. He buried his nose between them happily as his hands played with them. He could spend hours playing with her breasts and never grow bored.
Ginny's hands continued to roam over his back as he fondled her, dipping a bit lower, slipping her finger under his belt in a teasing fashion that had him moaning.
"Ginny," he murmured, his mouth moving over the lace.
He couldn't stop his lips from curving when she cupped his bum, squeezing lightly, and he sucked on her nipple through the lace. His fingers pushed the right strap down and with his nimble fingers, he soon had freed one breast from the lace. He eagerly bent his head to nibble and kiss it. His tongue trailed over her freckles while his hand played with her other breast, easing it from the bra and gently twisting her nipple as she shuddered.
"Harry…"
"Mmm," he murmured as he tugged the taut pink nipple into his mouth.
Ginny's fingers clutched his hair tightly, pulling him closer just as they heard the door open to his dormitory. He groaned in disappointment, letting go of her nipple to kiss her breast.
"Harry, please don't tell me that you're doing something in there with my sister that I don't want to see."
Ginny's breath caught before she spoke, her fingers still running through Harry's hair. "We won't tell you, then."
Harry's green eyes were dark with desire when they met hers.
"Out, Ginny!" Ron exclaimed.
"Bugger off," Ginny yelled back.
There were snickers behind the curtains and Harry heard Seamus' voice.
He kissed her once more. "You probably should go back to your own room. It's late."
Ginny rubbed herself against him. "I don't want to."
His eyes were full of lust when they looked down at her. "Fuck me, I wish you could stay."
She let her hand slip around to cup him through his trousers, tracing the obvious erection and rubbing. "Me too."
He swallowed when she let her fingers linger and he pushed into her hand.
"I have to go," she whispered.
He kissed her again and sighed in disappointment when she moved her hand away. He knew that, but it was getting harder and harder to say goodnight to her. "Goodnight."
Ginny grabbed his shirt from the end of the bed and tugged it over her shoulders.
"That's my shirt," he said, leaning in to nip at her breast again before she pulled her bra closed.
"Is it?" she asked innocently, her eyes twinkling in anything but.
She fixed her bra and did up the buttons before she kissed him once more. "Goodnight, Harry."
Ginny grabbed her own shirt and vest before she slipped out through the curtains to catcalls and whistles. She gave Ron an angry glare before she stormed out of the dormitory.
Seamus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively when Harry climbed out of the bed. "Nice work, Potter."
Harry made a rude hand gesture. "We were just snogging, calm yourself."
Ron's face was flushed as he met his gaze. "Er, well, good."
Seamus was still grinning at him. "Potter, you naughty boy. That wasn't her shirt she was wearing."
Harry only smirked and turned to grab his toiletries. "I don't know what you're implying."
He ignored his friends' catcalls and headed into the bathroom. He needed a shower. A really, really cold one, he thought as he adjusted himself in his trousers. He swore he could still feel the heat of Ginny's touch on him and he shivered. Maybe a wank first. After all, he did need to sleep tonight.
When he stepped into the shower, he set the water on hot and didn't even wait before he wrapped his fist around himself. He imagined it was Ginny's hand as he stroked and pumped himself and he let out a soft grunt when he finished, milking his cock under the spray.
He really needed to find some time alone with his girlfriend soon. It had been much too long since they'd had a moment to themselves without an interruption. The bathroom door banged open and the sound of voices took him out of his stupor and only reminded him that privacy was hard to come by at Hogwarts. He washed up and dried off before climbing into his bed for the night. When his head hit the pillow, he smelt her and smiled. At least he knew that he'd have good dreams tonight, he thought. He put his glasses on the table and went to sleep with a smile on his face.
~ ASC ~
Seamus left Quidditch practice feeling kind of good about himself. He'd run through all of the drills with the team before they started actually practicing and for once he didn't hurt all over. He didn't want to jinx himself, but after over a month of working out, he felt pretty good. He thought he might even see some muscle in his calves, but that could just be false hope.
He left the team to actual Quidditch and let himself into the change room for a shower. He was whistling as he made his way back up to the castle. It was almost Halloween and he wanted to just find some time to snog his boyfriend - which, as of late, was getting harder to achieve.
Dean spent most of his time in the art room, painting, drawing, and sketching. He was busy with homework and between Seamus' own classes, he felt like they were passing each other more often than not. He stepped into the common room, pleased to see Dean sitting in a chair by the fire. He frowned when he noticed that he was sitting alone and looked rather queasy.
Seamus moved across the room, plopping himself down on the arm of the chair. "Hi, Handsome."
A small smile tugged on Dean's lips before it vanished again. "Hey. How'd it go?"
"Harry's still mad, but I liked it and it went well. Do you think that I have big muscles yet?" he asked, showing off his biceps.
Dean chuckled. "No."
Seamus pouted. "You could at least lie."
Dean didn't answer him.
Seamus shifted from the arm into his boyfriend's lap. Dean only shuffled slightly, making room for him in the chair. "Hey, what's going on? You've been acting strange for weeks now. I've been hoping you'd say something, but you're just brooding."
Dean sighed when Seamus's fingers linked through his. "Read this."
Seamus accepted the crumpled letter, noticing that it had been folded and refolded half a dozen times, if not more.
My Darling Dean,
Today is your seventeenth birthday and I couldn't be more proud of you. I was gifted with a handsome, smart, young man who has an incredible talent when it comes to art. I know that one day, you're going to do something wonderful with it. More than just me and my little clay pots and bright jewellery.
The second envelope, Dean... it's from your father. It arrived at my shop the other day addressed to you, which tells me that he may know of my shop, but he doesn't know where our flat is. Dean, I didn't open it. I don't know why after all this time he's writing to you. You don't have to read it. But if you choose to, just remember that it is your choice whether you want to get to know him or not.
Kellan was... he was a fun time and I was hopelessly young and in love with him. I was foolish to think that when he found out I was pregnant that he would stay with me. As you know, I sent him the birth announcement of his son with a photo of you. I never heard from him again which is why I named you Dean Merrick Thomas after my father and not your own. He doesn't deserve his name to be passed down to you.
Dean, our romance was a whirlwind. It was over with almost before it began and in that short time, I never spoke to him about anything magical. He was an art dealer and we spoke about my work, my pots, and my jewellery and he promised me big things that he never lived up to. I don't know if he is a Muggle or a Wizard.
I love you. You are my world. He chose not to be part of that world. Whether or not you decide to read that letter is ultimately your choice.
Love,
Mum
Seamus looked into Dean's eyes. "How many times have you read this? Your seventeenth birthday was over a month ago."
"A lot," Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
"And your father?"
Dean shrugged. "I haven't opened it."
Seamus' eyes widened at that. "Really?
"I don't know if I want to, Seam. What if... what if he suddenly wants to know me? What if he doesn't? What if he's writing to tell me he's dying or... why now? I've never even met him."
Seamus nodded, taking his boyfriend's hand in his. "Like your mum said, it's your choice. And the one thing I know about Sunshine Dusk Thomas is that no one makes her do something that she doesn't want to do. Something her son has in common with her."
He smiled. "She's pretty great. Mum, Gramma River, and Auntie M were all I needed growing up, you know? I mean sure, I wanted a dad and I used to ask her about it, but she always told me the truth. She's always spouting her quotes, you know? She says yesterday's just a memory and tomorrow's never what it's supposed to be. Go with the flow. Live and let die. Mum was always honest."
"Even as a kid?"
Dean nodded. "She told me that he was a famous art dealer who travelled all over, bringing joy to the world. When I got older, I kind of realized that he wasn't ever coming back to us. Mum said that they were together less than two months and when she told him that she was pregnant, he said that he had to take a trip to Cairo. She sent the word of my birth to his office, but she said she never heard from him again."
"He missed out, Dean. It's his loss. Anyone who willingly chose to leave without knowing you, they have nothing about them that's worth knowing."
"I guess," he admitted. "Mum's written me twice since and I haven't responded."
"She'll send you a howler if you don't answer soon."
He smirked. "Yeah, yeah she will."
"Come on. Let's go get some parchment so you can write back to your mum."
"And the letter?"
"Where is it now?"
"In my sketchbook on my bed."
Seamus smiled. "Okay, let's go read it."
"Seam..."
"Dean, if you don't read it, you're going to keep brooding over it. If you read it, you'll know and you can make a choice from there."
Dean hesitated before he nodded. Seamus stood up and Dean followed him. They went upstairs and Seamus took the letter from the sketchbook.
"No stamp?"
Dean shook his head. "It was taped to the window of her shop."
Seamus stared at it. "So no inclination as to whether it was done by a Muggle or a Wizard. Clever."
"Or he's just a Muggle and ignorant enough to go to the shop. It is right next to Diagon Alley."
Seamus gave him a look. "Open it."
Dean shook his head again. "I can't. You read it first."
"Dean —"
"No," he insisted. "Please, Seam."
Seamus sighed before he took the envelope and carefully broke the seal and pulled out the letter.
Dear Dean,
I know that you probably don't want to hear from me. I've given you no reason to. But my name is Kellan Jabari Morgan and I'm your father.
I met your mother many years ago when she was selling clay pots and home-made jewellery out of a little booth in Brick Lane Market. Sunny was telling a woman that the colour pink was good for her aura and that it would do wonders for her to wear it more. I remember thinking that she was beautiful and very odd. But it was enough to get me to approach the booth. Her jewellery was eccentric to say the least, but her pots were lovely.
I'm an art dealer and I thought that maybe she might be interested in selling them in a larger capacity than in a flea market. She disagreed. I bought two pots and I came back the next day with a few of my regular clients who I knew would like them. They cleaned out her booth and she agreed to have dinner with me.
I liked her. She was, forgive me, sunny. She had a lovely disposition about her. She was lovely and full of energy and when she told me that she grew up making jewellery and clothes alongside her parents as they travelled around Europe, I knew she was so much more than met the eye. Merrick sold carpets and rugs that her mother made and they travelled together to sell them. She told me all about how Merrick and River believed in living free, living with the truth, and most importantly, believing that art and creativity were the muses of life. She told me about her twin sister, Meadow, and how she wanted to have a normal job. I liked her and we hit it off, but then I was given an incredible opportunity to work on a deal that made my career. It was part of this major art exhibit in Cairo. When your mother told me that she was pregnant, I had already accepted the job.
I know it's not an excuse. I know that I could have done more to stay in contact, sent letters or gifts, something… but I didn't. I have no excuse for it. It was selfish of me and I chose myself over you and Sunshine. As of late… I've regretted this.
I know you don't owe me anything. I know you have every right to hate me, but I would like the chance to meet you and to try to make up for lost time.
I've returned to England after working the last eighteen years between Cairo, Paris, Pretoria, and Athens. I'm from Pretoria and it's where I grew up as a child. I moved to England when I was eighteen with my sister Oba. She was sadly killed in a car accident five years later and she was the last family I had. I guess the thought of being a father was terrifying to me and I chose my career over you — I'm sorry for that.
I hope you will understand that I was young and afraid and more ambitious than wise. After travelling for so long, I've set up shop in a small office near Leicester Square. Perhaps we could meet for tea near there and chat?
Hoping to hear from you.
Your father,
Kellan J. Morgan
Seamus looked up at Dean when he finished reading. "Well, he's not dying, but he does seem to be feeling some regret."
Dean frowned. "It sounds like he is a Muggle then… if he's near Leicester Square."
"Well, that is awfully close to Diagon Alley, love, and your mum's shop is in Muggle London, but has a back entrance to Diagon Alley."
Dean's eyes darkened. "Morgan…"
"No," Seamus said, knowing exactly what was going through is boyfriend's mind. He moved to put his arm around his boyfriend. "You are Dean Merrick Thomas and whether you meet this man or not, you will still be the Dean that I know and love."
Dean wrapped his arms around Seamus and pulled him closer. "Thanks, Seam."
Seamus hugged him a moment before he spoke. "So, are you going to go for tea?"
Dean stared down at the letter before he shook his head. "I'm going to write to Mum and then… I guess I'll think about it. Maybe by the holiday he will have changed his mind about wanting to meet me anyway. If he's a Muggle, he might be confused as to why I have to wait."
"Dean, would it matter if he were a Muggle?"
"No," Dean said. "It just means a lot of lying and I don't know if I'm ready for that."
Seamus understood. He nudged his boyfriend lightly and when those brown eyes met his, he stood on his toes to kiss him. "I'm here when you want to talk."
Dean nodded. "I know."
Seamus watched him grab some parchment to write to his mum. He felt like Dean was taking the news of his father rather well, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what his boyfriend was thinking.
He just hated to see him looking so sad.
~ ASC ~
The sound of voices carrying down the corridor made Neville pause as he stopped on the steps leading up to the second floor.
"I'm just saying that if you eat that you'll regret it. I know you. If you're going to lose at least two stone, you can't be eating carbs."
Neville frowned when he heard the words and his eyes immediately found Hannah, who was looking at her boyfriend with wide eyes.
"I know that, Kevin, but it's almost All Hallows Eve and I just wanted to treat myself to a strawberry tart. Is that so wrong?"
Kevin just gave her an amused look. "Of course it's not wrong, pet! You can have the tart if you want. I'm just telling you that if you do so, it's not going to help you lose that weight. I'm just looking out for you, my sweet. We both know that you need to lose at least two stone and you won't do that if you eat sweets or carbs. It will go straight to your arse, which frankly is wide enough already."
He winked at her as if that made the words better.
"No, no, you're right," Hannah said softly. "I'm sorry."
Kevin smiled. "I love you, pet. I just want to take care of you."
Neville scowled as he kept walking. That ponce really was something else. Hannah hardly needed to lose weight. She was a bit curvy, but it suited her. He remembered how those hips had looked in the green silk, the way her breasts had filled out that nightgown beneath the silk robe and he adjusted himself accordingly. She was soft and so beautiful. He liked her honey gold hair and how she was short. He liked her laugh and the way the corners of her eyes always seemed to smile.
He almost walked into Harry and steadied himself. "Harry, sorry!"
Harry only gave him an amused look. "No worries. You okay? You look ready-to-spit angry."
"I just overheard that ponce talking to Hannah. He told her that she shouldn't eat any sweets or carbs because she has to lose at least two stone."
Harry's eyebrow rose. "He told her that she needs to lose weight? How did she take it?"
"She was fine with it, like he was totally right. What does she see in him, Harry?" he asked in exasperation. "I mean, I get it, I'm not her type, but she can do so much better than him!"
"Hey!" Seamus exclaimed, hurrying towards them. "Guess what I just heard?"
Neville gave him an amused look. "What?"
"Hufflepuffs are throwing a Halloween party next Friday with the help from the heads. It's going to be epic! It's open to fifth years and above."
"Says who?"
"Justin," Seamus said. "Halloween is on Thursday anyway so it's only the next day. Sykes and Wilkins are a hundred percent on board with it. We're going, right?" At Harry's hesitation, he pouted. "We're going and we're going to have an amazing time! No arguments."
Neville cleared his throat. "I'm not really in a mood to —"
"—You're going," Seamus interrupted. "And we're going to find you a gorgeous bird to snog so you can stop mooning over Hannah, got it?"
Harry put his hand on Neville's shoulder. "That sounds fun. Right, Nev?"
Neville sighed. "Okay, fine."
Seamus grinned widely. "Friday is going to be ah-mazing!"
He hurried off, practically skipping down the halls and Neville looked over at Harry. "So, I guess there's a party."
Harry chuckled. "I guess so. I agree with Seamus. We need to do something to keep your mind off of Hannah. We'll find someone to dance with you and see that you have a good time."
Neville paled. "There's going to be dancing?"
"Nev, you're going to be great."
Neville wasn't so sure about that, but as he followed his friend down the hall towards Gryffindor he did know one thing — he had to put Hannah Abbott from his mind.
Maybe a party was a good start to that.
~ ASC ~
Ginny knocked on the door frame to the Muggle Studies classroom the next day and Professor Birmingham smiled brightly at her.
"Ginny! Excellent! I was hoping that Professor Lupin passed on the message. Come on in! I think I found something that will really interest you!"
Ginny headed inside with her book bag. She'd met with him three times now since the first meeting and she felt like together they were finally starting to piece together the life of Second Lieutenant Michael Murray. Birmingham had spent the first lesson with her giving her a detailed summary of what the Great War was and how it involved so much of the world and started so much change. She took a seat in the chair next to his desk as he slid a book over to show her.
"I found a photo of the Army Veterinary Corps and, according to this, our Mr Murray is the third from the right."
Ginny stared down at the photo in interest. It was so strange to her that the photo didn't move. But it was black and white and Michael Murray looked like he had light hair. He was in full uniform, muddy, and he had his cheek pressed against the nose of a horse. It made her smile.
"He was an animal lover."
"He was," Birmingham told her. "This was really the first of its kind, a veterinarian group just to help take care of the horses to make sure that they were taken care of properly on the battlefield: Tended and fed and ready for action. The decision to have veterinary surgeons available for the army was decided in 1796, but they were still just part of the military, not separated to help the animals. There were no provisions to care for the sick or the lame horses when they were on the move and more often than not the animals were simply abandoned and left for dead. The Boer War in South Africa was what really turned the tide around. There was such an enormous casualty rate among the animals that the army finally listened to the veterinary officers about the concern. The army had combined the remount depots and veterinary hospitals on the base which caused a rapid spread of disease among the animals. It was a tragedy that could have been prevented and that is how the Army Veterinary Corps was put into action."
Ginny nodded in interest. "And the Great War was the first time it was used?"
"More or less," Birmingham told her. "In 1903 the Army Veterinary Corps of NCOs — non-commissioned officers — and men employed in veterinary duties was created. When war broke out in 1914, there were three hundred and sixty-four AVC officers. More were commissioned and recruited as the war went on as Mobile Veterinary Sections had to be established to help evacuate the sick and wounded animals."
"Were the animals sick a lot?" Ginny asked.
"Some were," he admitted. "A lot of it was malnourishment or dehydration but most of them were suffering from battle injuries and for the first time, gas attacks. The Allies were totally unprepared for the chemical warfare."
"Once an animal was hurt, did they have to go back out and fight?"
"Some did. It depended upon their injuries. But the AVC was a huge success. The field hospital in France could take up to two thousand patients and over two million animals returned to duty after being treated. The ones that were too injured were let go; locally sold and used as food. And our Second Lieutenant Murray, a student of the London Veterinary College, worked in France at the field hospital before he made a stop in Egypt. Egypt was a little different as they also used camels as opposed to horses and there were separate hospitals for AVC officers who knew more about caring for the camels. Murray worked alongside a General Nassar, who taught him all about camels. Dogs were treated if needed, but they were used as messengers to get across the trenches and were usually taken care of by their owners or units. Some dogs died of the gas as well."
"The Muggles really used gas on their enemies?" she asked.
The idea of new weapons and technology being suddenly used en masse to kill other people was crazy to her. Though it did make sense. If witches and wizards were willing to use torture curses on human beings, why couldn't the Muggles also devise ways to hurt each other? It made her sad that the world could continue to find ways to hurt others over and over again.
"Yes," Birmingham said, dragging her out of her dark thoughts. "It was the first time that anything like that had ever really been done and over 90,000 men were killed."
"Men?"
"Women weren't allowed to fight. They worked as nurses to help take care of the injured. Like assistant healers."
"They weren't regular healers?"
Birmingham shook his head. "No. Women didn't have that kind of opportunity in Muggle times."
Ginny frowned. "That's bollocks! If they wanted to fight, they should have been able to."
Birmingham smiled. "Many of them would have agreed with you, but it wasn't so." He tapped on the photo of the AVC. "As I said, the AVC was responsible for the medical care of all of the animals used by the army. Murray was part of the Mobile Veterinary Section otherwise called the MVS which provided first aid for wounded or injured animals who were part of the units of the division they were working under."
"So, he was like a Magizoologist?"
"Exactly," Birmingham said. "Murray's division took part in the Second Battle of Ypres which took place in April and May of 1915. The Second Battle of Ypres is the overreaching name of multiple smaller skirmishes that all involved fighting for the same tract of land. The Allies or the Triple Entente — Britain, France, and Russia — were fighting for control of Ypres in western Belgium against the Central Powers or the Triple Alliance of whom were Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Italy. As you know, each one of these powers were empires themselves and all of their colonized countries fell into the war because of these empires which is how it became such a world war."
Ginny nodded. She remembered that. Birmingham had explained how the British Empire brought in countries from all over the world and that's why they had British units from countries like Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Africa, etc. It was fascinating the way everyone fell into the conflict.
"The Germans used poisonous gas as a weapon. The problem was that it all depended on the weather, if the wind shifted, the weapon could then be blown back upon them. It was a very dangerous and risky move, but it was incredibly successful. The Allies weren't expecting it and they weren't prepared for how hard the gas would affect them. It was actually the 1st Canadian Division who figured out how to counter the attack. Without proper uniforms or masks, they urinated on their handkerchiefs and tied them around their nose and mouth as they learned that the ammonia from the urine neutralized the chlorine. Men used cotton pads, socks, or handkerchiefs soaked in urine as masks after that just so they could attempt to breathe through the haze. It was quite horrific and they weren't given proper masks or equipment to protect them until July of that same year. Muggles aren't as lucky as we are and they couldn't do something like make a Bubblehead Charm to protect them. They were dying."
"What happened? Did they get the village in the end?"
"The thing with the First World War, Ginny, or the Great War as it was called, was that it became a constant stalemate. They dug into trenches and spent four years sitting in those trenches trying to gain just a few meters of land only to lose it back to the other side and fight for it again the next day."
Ginny nodded, her brow furrowed. "What happened when they were hit with the gas?"
"Well, the Germans had an entire Gas Warfare Program that was headed by Fritz Habert. The problem was that the chlorine gas when breathed in, would react with water in the lungs and it led to death as once it was inhaled, one lost the ability to breathe properly. The soldiers would often cough and vomit themselves to death if not able to find protection; it burned their eyes and left some of them blinded. It was a horrific experience."
Ginny nodded, thinking of what Ron had told her about how he couldn't breathe and his skin and eyes were burning. "What about the animals?"
"Many of them were killed," Birmingham said. "According to this journal, Murray's unit left Belgium in October of that year and headed to Egypt before going to Salonika where he remained for the rest of the war. They worked as a field army there opposing Bulgarian advances on the Macedonian front."
"Murray was working with the animals there?"
Birmingham nodded. "Working with the animals yes, but he was also still part of the military. The problem with the Macedonian Front was that technically Greece was neutral in the war, but King Constantine I tended to be on the German side of the invasion. It made things complicated."
Ginny frowned at that, making notes on where Murray had travelled and what kind of things he would have experienced. She looked up as Birmingham explained the political turmoil in Greece and how it affected the war and the politics surrounding it. She made more notes as he went on, feeling like she was finally understanding the experiences of Michael Murray.
Birmingham went on to tell her how when the war ended in 1918, Murray stayed in the army. When the Armistice with Bulgaria was signed, the 28th Division advanced onto Turkey until the Ottoman Empire also signed an armistice. Murray's division was then asked to occupy the Dardanelles Forts as peacekeeping units and he was there until 1923. He spent another two years attempting to get home. From Turkey, he ended up back in Greece, then Romania, and then in Russia. He worked his way from farm to farm, caring for the animals, until he reached the coast and was able to get a fisherman to take him part of the way. He eventually found himself in Finland. He didn't make it back to England until 1925. He returned and got a job as a veterinarian at the college.
"What did he do between 1925 and 1932?" Ginny asked.
"I couldn't find that much information on him for those remaining years as once he left the army, his movements were harder to track. He returned home to Ireland at some point and the baby griffins are said to have been found up by Croagh Patrick mountains. Magizoologists were alerted to there being magical creatures up there and it's how they discovered Murray taking care of them. They watched him for two weeks, to see how he dealt with them and were very impressed with the care and devotion he showed the creatures. According to the DRCMC records, it was an Agent Atlas Kellerman and his partner Agent Marius Derrick who discussed bringing him to the Ministry of Magic and potentially seeing if they could learn things from each other, but another Muggle stumbled upon the nest before that happened." Birmingham said.
"He startled them?"
Birmingham nodded. "I think they startled each other. The griffins, worried that someone was attacking their caregiver lashed out. Murray attempted to protect them when the Muggle tried to shoot them. Kellerman's report claims: "The Muggle used a gun — an instrument that shoots a lead pellet called a bullet into its prey, tearing through them; usually leading to death. Murray tried to save the magical creatures and was killed in the crossfire. Agent Derrick and I were too late to save him. The Muggle who killed him was obliviated, his gun taken and destroyed, and sent on his way."
"And why did they take his brain?"
"Just from what you told me, Ginny, that they wanted to understand what made Michael Murray different from other Muggles. He cared for these magical creatures without a concern for his own life and in the end, he died for them," he told her. "He was a hero and I guess that fascinated them. Kellerman brought Murray's body to the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Mysteries took his brain to be studied."
Ginny nodded, adding the new information to her notes before she looked up at her professor. "Did he have any family?"
Birmingham shook his head. "It says that he was the youngest of four brothers. The two oldest ones were killed in the war, and the last one was executed by the British for his role in the Easter Rising, part of the Irish unrest to rid themselves of British rule. Murray's father died of the Spanish Flu in 1919 and from what I gather, his mother passed years before that. He was the only one left so the Ministry provided him a proper burial and took his brain for academic research."
"This is really great stuff, Professor Birmingham. Thank you."
He smiled. "You're welcome. I really enjoyed myself. I haven't gotten the chance to do research like this in years. Can you tell me why you're researching this Muggle yet?"
Ginny hesitated before she spoke. "Well, it's just that last year in the Department of Mysteries, someone I know came into contact with the brain room."
"Your brother. I've seen the scars on his arms," Birmingham said. "Thoughts are incredibly powerful weapons. Thoughts are connected to emotion and are essentially responsible for everything that happens in one's life."
Ginny was pleased with how quickly he came to that conclusion. "Some of Michael Murray's memories are influencing Ron's dreams. He's dreamed of being in the trenches, of his skin burning, smelling blood and war… I wanted to know about the man whose thoughts he's sharing. I thought maybe it could help him understand the dreams more clearly."
"Fascinating," Birmingham told her. "Now that you have all of the information at your disposal, what are you going to do with it?"
Ginny smiled brightly at him as she closed her books. "I'm going to write about his life so that someone knows what a hero he truly was."
Birmingham dragged his fingers through his blond hair, brushing it out of his face. "Good. The world deserves to know his story."
"Thank you for your help, Sir. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Oh, I'm fairly certain you could have," he told her as she packed up her things. "You're an intelligent young woman, Miss Weasley. I look forward to seeing what the future brings you."
~ ASC ~
Quidditch practice went long that night, but it was well worth it. Harry thought his team was doing well and he felt that Demelza was fitting in great with them. The first match was in just over a week's time and he was determined to be on top. He stood in front of the board, fiddling with plays for longer than he realized and when he glanced at his watch was rather surprised to see that he'd been staring at the board for over thirty minutes. He stretched his arms up over his head and decided to head into the shower.
He noted that his team had already showered and left as he washed up. He wrapped a towel around his waist and moved out of the showering area to the dressing room and stood in front of the large mirror to comb his hair. Pale freckled arms wrapped around his waist and he smiled.
"Hi."
Ginny's lips pressed into the centre of his back. "I thought I'd missed you and that you'd already gone back to the common room, but then Ron told me that you were still staring at the Quidditch board when he left. Are you worried about the match against Hufflepuff next week?"
"No, not at all actually," he admitted, tossing his comb onto the bench next to the mirror. "I was just trying to work out some plays and I guess it took longer than I thought it would. What were you doing?"
Ginny rested her cheek against his shoulder blade as she slid her hands over his naked chest. "Nothing. I like you like this. All damp from your shower."
He smiled as her lips brushed his back. "That's what happens when I shower."
She peeked her head around his arm and her eyes met his in the bathroom mirror. Her hands slowly fingered the towel and Harry swallowed as it fell to the floor at his feet. Ginny's smile was slow in the mirror and then he watched as those small hands slid down to touch him. He let out a soft moan as her hands stroked him, wrapping around him, fondling. It wasn't long before he was hard. Her fingers trailed along his length, teasing, and then she wrapped her hands around him again and began to pump slowly.
"Fuck," he whispered, his eyes on hers in the mirror.
"We keep getting interrupted," Ginny said, kissing his arm. "And you've been so good to me and I haven't had the chance to properly repay you for that."
She moved closer against him and he watched those hands work him over in the mirror, watched as her fingers tickled and teased his sack as she pumped him. The image of his erection moving in out of those perfect hands in the mirror before them made his breath hitch.
"Ginny…"
She kissed his arm again, letting go of his balls and sliding her hand up his naked chest, dancing over his nipple as she continued to pump him. And he watched in amazement as she pulled her wand around, tapped her hand and whispered, "Lubrico."
She rubbed her hands together a moment and then wrapped both of them around his cock again. The sensation was immediate. He slid between her hands like butter, hot delicate hands that worked every inch of him into a frenzy. He moaned, unable to stop from watching her in the mirror. Ginny's pale freckled arms reached around his torso, one hand occasionally moving up his chest. She nudged her nose under his arm until he lifted it and her head snuck around his torso to kiss his nipple as her hands pumped him.
Her teeth grazed the nipple and she began to work him faster. Harry's hand gripped her hair, holding her head against his nipple as she sucked it, the other hand resting flat against the mirror for leverage as Ginny utterly tormented him.
"Mmm," she moaned, turning to smile at him through the mirror.
Harry watched as those chocolate brown eyes looked down at his cock, watched the way her hand slowed and how she used only her thumb and her pointer finger to stroke the head of him in slow, circular movement. Then her thumb lowered and brushed that sensitive spot and he moaned.
"So close," he murmured.
Ginny's lips curved in the mirror as her hand gently fondled his balls in her hands while her thumb teased him for a moment before both hands gripped him again, pumping slowly and then faster and faster. Two fingers stroked his balls every time she reached the base, pressing and stroking, and when both hands gripped him again, he grunted.
"Fuck, Ginny… fuuccckkk…"
Her eyes stayed on his in the mirror as he came. Her hands continued to stroke him as he released; watching him, touching him. When he finished, she wiped her hands on the towel that had fallen to the floor before she slid her hands up his chest, her long hair tickling his arm.
"That was really hot," she whispered.
Harry, still trying to catch his breath, whipped around to pull her up to her toes and kiss her. His hands slid into her hair as he pushed her back against the mirror and deepened the kiss until she moaned. He kissed her once more before he tilted his forehead against hers.
"Wow."
Ginny smiled smugly up at him. "I heard a reach around like that feels different, but watching you in the mirror while I did it…" Her eyes slid down his body. "You're so beautiful."
Harry's neck flushed. "Hardly."
"No," she whispered, her eyes on his sated cock. "You are. I like touching you. I love pleasing you."
Harry pulled her up against him, his lips moving to her throat. "I can say the same."
"Harry! Ginny! Are you two in here?" Ron called out.
"Shit," Harry exclaimed, bending to grab his towel from the floor and hastily covering himself up. "He always has the worst timing!"
Ginny smirked at him as she gripped her hands on the towel he wore and called out to her brother. "Harry's just getting into the shower now. You were right, he was daydreaming over Quidditch plays."
Harry moved back into the showers, closing the curtain and turning the spray on just as Ron came into the back area.
"Tell him to hurry up. I thought that we were going for a run."
"We are," Ginny assured him. "We'll meet you by the Whomping Willow in a bit. You can start without us."
"Fine," Ron said, his eyes moving to the little hall that led to the showers. "But it's already almost ten and Hermione has the map. Don't get caught."
A moment later the door to the change rooms slammed shut and Ginny moved around the corner into the shower area, she tugged the curtain open and stood on her toes to kiss Harry deeply.
"Clean yourself up again, Mr Potter. Then we're going for a run in our Animagus forms."
Harry tugged her up against him, gripping her bum in his hands and kissing her again. "Maybe I could use some help in here."
She laughed when he tugged her under the spray with him and smacked his chest. "Prat! I'm still dressed!"
Harry kissed her neck, his hands sliding over the wet denim of her arse. "Not for long, I hope."
Ginny kissed him once more. "My brother and our friends are waiting for us. Clean up and meet me in the change rooms." She slid her hands up his wet chest and down to stroke his already growing erection. "Don't be too long."
"Ginny," he pleaded when she turned to leave, and her hands wrapped around him once more.
She stroked him softly at first and then harder and faster, pushing him up against the wall of the shower as the hot water beat down over her, soaking her shirt to her skin. But she didn't stop. Her hands continued to work him, teasing and fondling until he was crying out incoherently as he came a second time. He bent his head to kiss her as he finished.
Ginny rinsed her hands off under the spray, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes. "Clean yourself up and meet me in the changing rooms."
Then she left him alone in the shower to attempt to dry her clothes.
Harry turned to rinse himself off under the hot water with a huge satisfied grin across his face. All he wanted now was a rather long nap, he thought as he let himself sink to the floor of the shower. He'd just take a few minutes first and then he'd be ready to go.
When Ginny called out for him ten minutes later, he climbed back to his feet to wash off. On second thought, maybe a run in his Animagus form was exactly what he needed.
~ ASC ~
Harry was feeling extra good after his second shower. He walked hand in hand with Ginny out of the change rooms, locking his broom and kit in his locker before changing into his Tamaskan. Ginny changed into her red panda and immediately climbed on top of him. He took off running out to the Whomping Willow with Ginny bouncing on his back, her tiny claws digging into his fur a bit. They found their friends already running around. Luna was hopping around in her rabbit form, examining flowers and other random things while Hermione chased Neville and Ron around. Harry let Ginny hop down and he let out a string of barks, making his friends jump in fright.
They spent over an hour running around, playing a mixed game of tag and hide and seek. It was after eleven when Hermione changed back into herself and told them they had to go in as they were way past curfew. Ginny yawned and claimed that she was too tired to go all the way back to the castle.
Harry grinned and squatted down in front of her and she happily climbed onto his back. He held onto her thighs as her arms rested loosely around his neck and he piggyback rode her back to the castle. She climbed off of him when they got inside and held his hand as they began the trek up the many sets of stairs. It was sheer luck that had none of them being seen or getting caught. They said goodnight to Luna and headed the rest of the way back to Gryffindor Tower. Neville, Ron, and Hermione headed upstairs, but Harry lingered at the base of the girls staircase, kissing Ginny. She sighed against his lips, standing on the second bottom step so that she was eye level with him as he held her close.
"Saying goodnight is getting harder," he whispered against her lips.
Her dark eyes met his and she nodded. "I know."
He kissed her again. "Goodnight."
Ginny rested her cheek against his for a moment before she pulled back. "Goodnight."
He watched her go upstairs and he made his way up to his own dorm and changed into his pjs. He met Ron in the bath where his friend was cleaning his teeth. Harry stood at the sink next to him to do the same.
"You okay?" Ron gurgled, rinsing his mouth.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I just hate saying goodnight to Ginny."
Ron shook his head. "You got it bad, mate."
"I know," Harry said, giving him a small smile. "I just like holding her and being with her. She makes me happy."
Ron nodded. "I know that I gripe at you two sometimes, but you two are good for each other; anyone can see that."
"Yeah, we are," Harry agreed. "She's coming with me on Sunday."
"Good. Hermione and I were going to ask if you wanted us there as well, but she said that she doesn't want to intrude."
He hesitated. "You wouldn't be intruding but… I just want Ginny with me, I think."
"No worries, mate," Ron told him. "If you change your mind, just let us know."
He watched his friend head into their dorm and he closed his eyes. He was thankful for his friends and he knew that they would be there if he needed them, but this was something he needed to do for himself, for Zee, and for Remus.
She was always exactly who he needed. Yes, having Ginny with him was definitely going to be more than enough.
End Author's Notes:
I read this theory eons ago about how the potions textbook was written from Snape but that it wasn't his knowledge. Instead, Snape had written down all of the things that he overheard James Potter saying since Fleamont was a gifted potioneer and James would obviously be very gifted in potions knowledge because of that. The idea that growing up with a parent who has a passion like that, one knows and learns things about it whether they mean to or not. I liked the idea and have been playing around with it. As to the potions stuff, I had fun doing research on the history of potion-making and whatnot.
Michael Murray, well I had to find a way to bring my love of the First World War into the story! Plus, Ypres is one of those proud Canadian moments we study in our history classes so of course Murray was there.
As to Sunshine Dusk Thomas — unintentional nod to my incredible Beta! When I realized what I had done, I asked if I could use the name Dusk, as I wanted Dean's auntie to be Meadow Moonlight Thomas. I somehow got it into my head that it would be cool if Dean's family was into the whole world peace, flower power idea so his mum is Sunshine Dusk with a sister named Meadow Moonlight. He was raised by three amazing women: His mum, his Auntie M (who doesn't like to be called Meadow because she finds it embarrassing), and his grandmother River who he calls Gramma River. His grandfather, Merrick, died before he came to Hogwarts.
Thanks for reading and please review!