AN: I am so sorry about the delays, folks; however, I've been pulled away by having to move back to Canada, and that means moving into a new apartment, getting internet access, and so forth. Things are still hectic, however, so please do not assume I've just given up, as this is not so--I'm merely attempting to settle my affairs as quickly as possible first.
Two days later…
The word spread around quickly all throughout the medical ship, and throughout the Imperial capital.
The Duchess of Halifax had woken up.
Skidding to a stop near the double doors that led to the infirmary, Harry quickly pushed open the doors and stormed into the sick bay.
"Is it true?" he demanded to the nearest nurse, who meekly nodded after having been startled by the Duke's forceful entry. She, along with many others in the staff had been watching through the one-way window as the resident doctor and a couple of female nurses checked out the Duchess' vitals.
Harry's face now lit up with happiness and he hugged the nurse for all she was worth before walking up to the door and opening it quickly. The doctor inside was surprised at the entry of the Duke and squeaked as the man strode up to him and hugged him as well.
"So it's true?" asked Harry once more as he let go of the man.
The doctor nodded meekly. "Yes, Your Grace. She woke up this morning, spoke groggily for a moment, then coherently, then went back to sleep."
"Sleep? You're sure?" asked Harry, suddenly feeling a cold pit form in his stomach.
The doctor nodded furiously. "Yes, Your Grace. She is most definitely sleeping. She asked for you, as a matter of fact," he added.
Harry perked up at this. "In the morning?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Why wasn't I told?"
The doctor moved from foot to foot uncomfortably. "We did send word, but you were in that meeting with General Sulu and the captains of the relief force."
Harry nodded. Sure, he was irritated that he hadn't been told sooner, but couldn't begrudge the man for that, since there was a valid excuse.
"What did she say, exactly?" asked Harry.
The doctor smiled. "She asked for you, as I said. She also asked about your parents and her own."
Harry grinned at this. It meant that she probably wouldn't be suffering from memory problems, if any.
"She also asked about someone called Sarah," added the doctor suddenly, puzzled as he looked at his notes. "Have you any idea who she meant, Your Grace?"
Harry shook his head. "I know of no woman called Sarah. Probably a friend of hers."
The doctor, however, looked sceptical about that. "She was quite insistent upon news about this Sarah, Your Grace. Bordering on hysterical. Only after we promised to look into her whereabouts did she calm down."
Harry was puzzled by this revelation. Who exactly was this Sarah that his wife cared so much about? Deciding to have one of his agents look into it later, Harry turned his attention back to his sleeping wife, a genuine smile creeping up on his usually scowling face.
After a good ten minutes, the doctor and his staff finally left the room, leaving the two Potters alone at last. Harry sat down next to her and took her left hand, kissing it where she'd kept her wedding ring.
The Duke sat there for over an hour, occasionally glancing at his wife whenever he swore she'd moved, only to sit back and watch, content, as her chest gently rose and fell with every breath. In her sleep, the Duke had carefully watched her and compared her with the image of her he'd retained for five years. She'd certainly kept herself well, and he was somewhat pleased to see that her freckles had receded from encompassing her entire face to just a smatter across the nose, which, in his opinion, had merely served to exalt the rest of her facial features.
Her hair, his favourite feature in her, had darkened somewhat to a blood-coloured red, which for some reason made her all the more desirable to him. Her chest, too, had grown, from what he could see. Not too much—simply enough for her to be well-proportioned all around, much to his pleasure.
His musings were interrupted, however, by the stirring of her hand. Although it took him a few seconds to process the meaning of that, he immediately thereafter shot to his feet and leaned over his wife.
"Ginny?" he whispered anxiously.
Nothing. He was about to sigh in disappointment when she stirred again and this time whispered back, "Harry?"
Harry involuntarily let out an uncharacteristic sob of joy as he watched his darling wife open her eyes at last. Those chocolate brown eyes that he loved so much took a moment to recognize him (he didn't blame her—after all, he had changed during the intermittent years, and had a few scars to prove it) but eventually, as recognition flooded her, her eyes became alit with joy as she reached up tentatively and, upon touching his face, gave a small sob of joy and pulled him into a fierce hug, which he avidly returned.
"Harry!" she exclaimed in happiness as she pulled him close.
"My sweet Ginny," he replied tenderly into her ear as he returned the hug. "My sweet, darling, beloved Ginny…"
Ginny let out a relieved sob into his red tunic, her tears wetting his uniform. As if starving, and practically by shared thought, the two estranged lovers pulled back from their hug and leaned in for their first kiss in five years. The two remained lip locked for a full minute before their hands started to wander, with Ginny's becoming entangled in Harry's wild hair and Harry's settling on her waist.
Eventually, the two broke off the kiss for breath, but both seemed exhilarated by the kiss. Smiling down on his wife, Harry said, "I missed you."
Ginny giggled at his somewhat cliché overture. "I missed you too," she admitted in a whisper as she planted a loving kiss on his lips. "I dreamed of you every night since the day we parted."
Harry felt a pang of guilt as thoughts of his affair with Allison flooded his mind, but he quickly pushed them away as he admitted, "I prayed for our reunion every day,"
Ginny seemed satisfied by this, making Harry sigh in relief internally. He really hated not telling her up front about his indiscretions, but he was, at the same time, very grateful that he didn't have to summon his courage to do so now.
For her part, Ginny was ecstatic beyond belief at having found her husband once more. She'd been alone for so long now, her only care her daughter, that she'd begun to wonder whether or not she would ever be able to love a man again. She supposed most women in her position would have moved on, but Ginny had never been able to feel that way. Every time someone mentioned it, all she could do was remember the sweet times with Harry. And even then, not necessarily the romantic ones, but also the times when they were just friends, and he'd managed to find his way to their meeting spot, over by the orchard near her house.
Snuggling into his strong arms (and silently admiring how much bulkier they were now), Ginny felt as if things couldn't get better.
"Ginny? Who's Sarah?"
Elizabeth paced her study nervously, her hands wringing in front of her. She'd been briefed moments ago by a courier about the altercation between the Air Field Marshall and the General of the Armies, and the implications of the situation worried her. It meant that there was an insider working towards the destruction of the Empire, which worried her even more, as all evidence pointed to the Gifted.
Elizabeth sighed in frustration as she lifted a hand to her forehead. Why couldn't the war simply be between the Death Eaters and the Empire? Why did there need to be a potential civil war on her hands as well?
Her Prime Minister's cabinet was not helping either. Despite Minister Lee's attempts to stifle the bloodlust of his fellow ministers, there was nonetheless a strong, if silent, demand to persecute all Gifted members of British Imperial society. She refused, of course, and would continue to refuse it.
"You called for me, madam?" interjected a soft, old voice.
Elizabeth broke out of her musings to see the old wizard Dumbledore standing at the door of her study.
Elizabeth nodded and motioned him towards one of the chairs in the study. "Yes, thank you for coming, Mister Dumbledore. Please, have a seat."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly but he instead remained standing where he was. "If it isn't too much trouble, madam, perhaps I could browse your books?" he asked. "My eyes, old as they are, see many volumes of knowledge I've never encountered before."
Elizabeth allowed a small smile to grace her young face as she nodded. "Of course, of course. Help yourself," she allowed before taking a seat herself. "I am told by the Royal Historian that many of them are books my namesake kept, courtesy of the famous John Dee."
Dumbledore's eyes now twinkled full force. "Truly?" he said, somewhat awed as he pawed one such tome. "John Dee…the only Ungifted man to have truly understood magic. Some say perhaps better than we Gifted folk," he noted to the Queen.
Said sovereign nodded pleasantly. A moment of silence passed before Elizabeth spoke up. "I assume you're wondering why I sent for you," she stated.
"The thought had crossed my mind, Your Majesty, yes," admitted Dumbledore pleasantly as he paged through the book.
Elizabeth nodded sternly. "We understand we have not met quite eye to eye on many things, your society and mine. In fact, had the Death Eaters not attacked my family five years ago, we daresay we would have probably ended up in a full fledged civil war."
"A bit extreme as far as judgements go, but I agree," conceded Dumbledore.
"Mister Dumbledore," Elizabeth continued, "You are widely renown amongst the Gifted as a powerful, but even more importantly, a wise man. If the rumours are true, you are nearing over a century and a half of age. You've seen things and done things which most of the world cannot comprehend."
Dumbledore, despite himself, smile. "All very good flattery, Your Majesty, but I presume there's a point to it?"
Elizabeth returned the smile with a shy one of her own. "Yes. Mister Dumbledore, despite our differences, we do believe you to be a very wise man. Perhaps, due to the unusual circumstances of the times, your wisdom went contrary to events, but I feel that now is the right time to employ it once more." Elizabeth took a deep breath now. "Mister Dumbledore, we wish for you to become my personal advisor."
Dumbledore seemed neither shocked nor against the announcement. Rather, he seemed somewhat amused. "Are you aware, Your Majesty, that many will clamour for my death and against my appointment to such a position?" he asked calmly.
Elizabeth waved off the concerns. "As they did when John Dee was appointed to our ancestor's side, no doubt."
"But John Dee was not part of a rebellious faction," pointed out Dumbledore.
Elizabeth dismissed that out of hand. "You may have little to no love for the Empire, Dumbledore, but you care enough to see the Death Eaters be eliminated. Perhaps in the interval, you will find it pleasant to work for a united Gifted and Ungifted world."
Dumbledore replied to that statement by merely raising an eyebrow. Then, remaining silent for a moment, he nodded. "I accept your appointment, Your Majesty," he told her. "What shall I have to do?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Quarters for you have been set apart in the highest tower of the palace. We will be expecting you in court tomorrow to hear out Halifax's report, and may ask for your counsel then. After that, you may use your time as you wish until called upon once more."
Dumbledore was personally surprised at this revelation. From the get-go, he'd expected this to simply be a measure to keep him on a short leash, with him being confined to some barely furnished quarters until the Queen needed his advice, if ever. But, if the girl was being truthful, he was to be free to do as he pleased, with his only duty being showing up at court or at her pleasure. Even he had to admit that it wasn't that bad a deal.
Bowing politely, Dumbledore excused himself, saying, "I shall retire for the evening, then, Your Majesty."
Elizabeth nodded imperiously. "Very well. Good night, Dumbledore. I will be expecting you at court tomorrow morning."
Post-Chapter AN: Before the blood baying begins over the Queen's deal with Dumbledore, keep this in mind: Elizabeth has zero real political clout/influence at the moment. While she's respected and revered as the Queen of the Empire, she's still only 15, and as such, many of the members of Parliament ignore her and act in her stead. By doing this, she shows herself able to think outside of Harry's influence, and yet shows enough cunning to admit the skill of one of her opponents in furthering her ambitions. Basically, she's forging her own road to power, outside of Harry's god-like persona and influence.