AN: Sorry for the delay -- Classes and such are taking a huge chunk of my time. - MB
PS: To the reviewer named jon -- I understand your views and I respect them. However, I would pose the following question: could you guarantee, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if the only option for the US to survive was to ally with "terrorists" that control foreign government, that they would not, on sheer principle?
Harry cursed as he paced his office at Airfleet Headquarters. Why hadn't he shut his mouth? Why did he have to reply so quickly?
After Harry's supreme show of confidence in the capability of the Imperial Navy, there had been an immediate call for war against the pirates. Tybalt had been, to say the least, very displeased with Harry. For once, Harry was glad that duelling amongst officers had been banned in the Imperial Armed Forces.
"Pacing will do you no good, Your Grace," Allison informed her boss pragmatically. "Only delay the problem-solving."
Harry glared at his former mistress but nodded eventually. "Right," he conceded reluctantly before rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Send out orders to the HMIS Retaliation. Tell Wolf to send out the…Queen Anne, Leopold, Conqueror, and Inquirer in distance support to the First Imperial Fleet."
Silently, Allison nodded and wrote down the orders on her notepad.
"Also, find out when the Magnificent and Icarus will be ready for deployment, and when the Protector will have its repairs finished."
Allison nodded once more. "While we're on that, Captain Jones filed his report on the engagement in the Mid-Atlantic Sector," she told Harry.
Harry nodded. "Great. Send it over to Intelligence and we'll see what they can figure out from it. Any word from the Escort? Have they picked up the Fourth?" he asked.
Allison flipped through her notepad and eventually nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. They called in two hours ago and are en route towards Halifax."
Harry nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good. Anything I'm missing?" he asked.
Allison flipped through her notes again before pointing out, "The European scouting mission should be radioing in fifteen minutes."
Harry nodded. "Remind me who I sent?"
"The HMIS Queen's Eye, under Captain Nolan. He, in turn, deployed Jupiter Squadron to do the rounds."
Harry nodded.
"Any other reports?" he asked.
A quick check had Allison nodding once more. "Yes, sir. Battlegroup Eulogy has reported that the Egyptian fleet has decreased its patrols. Air Admiral Malan does not recommend attack just yet, but does concede that if patrols are decreased further, an attempt should be made to recover Cairo."
"What about Admirals Brown and Marshall?"
"Admiral Marshall reports a concentration of Death Eater ships around New Guinea. The Admiral's ANZAC components have put their air defences on the highest level of readiness."
"And Brown?"
"Admiral Brown reports a withdrawal of many American and Death Eater ships from the front lines. Not enough to venture an attack, but enough that their location is worrisome."
Harry nodded, mentally mapping the different events. In the end, he realized he needed a far more material representation and so walked over towards the enormous map covering the entirety of his left-side wall and, asking Allison to repeat the reports, drew the events on it.
After he was done, he stepped back with a frown. Everything indicated a concentration of forces in Asia. Still, he could not understand why. Australia was a firm bastion of Imperial resistance, and with the new MEG Propelled Anti-Airship Guns he'd sent over to Sydney and New Atlantis, there was no way the Death Eater could truly hope to retake Australia.
He voiced this concern out loud, saying, "What the hell are they playing at?"
"Sir?"
Harry looked back at Allison with an apologetic look. "Sorry, Allison. I just don't get it," he admitted reluctantly as he turned his attention back to his map. "What are the Death Eaters doing? Everything points to the Pacific, but it's one of our most well-defended regions. They'd have to be crazy to try and attack Australia and New Zealand."
Allison shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea either."
Harry growled at that, though Allison took no offence. She knew Harry was just feeling frustrated. Though the pretty redheaded woman would have, in the past, used her body in order to relieve her benefactor of his stress, she now knew, and rejoiced all the more for it, that he instead would rely on his own wife for soothing counsel.
Allison watched carefully as the Duke straightened his glasses and kept reading through reports, careful in taking notes of everything he said. Eventually, a good two hours later, Harry had finished putting everything in order.
"Finally," sighed Harry in relief as he slumped against his very comfortable chair. "One last thing, Allison. Please inform Commander Wolf to prepare the Retaliation battlegroup for deployment. We'll need to set out in two days. Preferably six in the morning. With any luck, O'Connor will be pacified by nightfall."
"Of course, Your Grace," replied Allison dutifully. "Will that be all, Your Grace?"
Harry silently nodded as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, barely noticing Allison leaving the room. Sighing as he was left alone in his office, Harry rubbed his temples in a hopeless attempt at fighting off an oncoming headache. Frustrated by his failure to do so, he got up, grabbed his overcoat, then left himself.
Harry's frustration held out even as he sat in the living room of his home on the northern island, which he'd named the Imperial Manor. Modelled after the original Potter Complex's Main House, it was nonetheless customized to include a magically expanded room he used as a library and massive study room. After his parents' reported survival, every Potter artefact and book recovered from the Conservatory of Knowledge prior to the fall of the British Isles was placed into this new facility (which had forced Harry to have the room expanded further). It was, by far, the most complete collection of books and magical artefacts in the world, as far as most scholars were concerned.
The centrepiece of the room was the recovered Statue of Gryffindor, which allegedly depicted Gryffindor's slaying of Slytherin, though Harry wasn't so sure. In his own opinion (and that of many of his ancestors, he found), it probably depicted a metaphorical image of Gryffindor slaying evil in general. They reinforced that theory by noting that while Gryffindor is acutely identified by the markings of his garments, the prostrate man at his feet wore no such identifying marks—and any Dark Lord would have been odd indeed if they had not made sure that their mark was visible at all times.
His musings on the statue were interrupted, however, when the soft, yet distinct sound of a violin playing caught in his ears. More intriguingly, it did not sound bad at all. Getting up from his desk, he made his way over towards the double doors leading to the music room, where he sometimes spent his time playing his violin—usually heartrending ballads or songs of loss.
But this song, this song that so penetrated his ear, spoke to him neither of sorrow, nor of loss—two feelings he had become well accustomed to. Rather, it spoke of love, and patience. Softly now, he could hear words being sung. Immediately, he recognized his wife's voice, and its implications struck him. He had never truly considered that during their parting, she may have improved in her music, or even broached singing. Pain filled his heart as he realized that despite having had a brief romantic moment during her awakening, he had not allocated much of his time to find out how her life had been.
Granted, the first few weeks after her awakening were spent by Harry in shock as Ginny dropped the rather large bombshell that he'd been a proud father for a little over five years now. A day after Ginny's awakening, he'd been finally introduced to his daughter, whom Harry had to catch himself from crying in front of. She looked so much like her mother, with the exception of her eyes—for they were his Killing Curse green eyes—, that it merely served to reinforce how much he'd missed out on. The fact that she'd almost immediately accepted him as her father had only served to accentuate this feeling.
What caught his attention next, however, was not a sound. It was neither voice, nor music, nor noise. What caught his attention was the definite lack of sound that suddenly reigned. As his eyes shifted back into focus, he saw that the doors had been opened (magically, he assumed), and that his wife was looking at him with a smile as she rested her violin on her lap.
"Did you like it?" she asked simply.
Unwilling to try his voice (lest it broke with emotion), Harry merely nodded. He was summarily rewarded with a dazzling smile from his wife, causing him to feel his knees weaken. She would no doubt enjoy knowing that, he mused silently. She'd always gotten a kick out of making Harry feel weak in the knees by her presence.
"I practiced every day I could, you know," stated Ginny, startling him from his thoughts (one again). "Ever since…that day…I've practiced every day, hoping one day you'd be here with me, listening and telling me how good it was."
Harry said nothing as she looked towards a nearby window. The sun was setting, and the yellow light cast a picturesque light on her, causing him to inadvertently suck in his breath.
"I know about…her, you know," she suddenly said.
Harry felt his body grow cold. "What do you mean?" he asked neutrally.
Hurt, brown eyes turned towards him. "You deny it?" she asked. It surprised Harry that his denial seemed to hurt her more than anything. "You deny having had a fling with Allison McIntyre?"
Harry felt his rational mind scream out orders to say yes, but in the end, he went with what he knew was the right thing to do. "No."
A moment of silence passed between the two estranged lovers before Ginny's countenance changed to relief, much to Harry's surprise.
"You are not angry with me, my love?" he asked cautiously.
Ginny allowed a small laugh to escape her rosy lips before raising two fingers to her own mouth, in a move to silence herself. "Oh, I'm displeased, mister Potter," she said sardonically at length, her index finger placed right underneath his chin. "But I am relieved that you did not lie to me about such an important matter in regards to our marriage and relationship."
Harry raised an eyebrow at this explanation, causing Ginny to giggle once more.
"How did you know?" he finally asked.
Ginny rose an elegant eyebrow and gave him a saucy smile. "I'm a spy, love. It's my job to know what goes on around me."
Harry smirked as he watched his wife regain that vivacity that had always attracted him so much. Taking a few large steps forward, he soon had her in his arms and, leaning down, planted a firm, hungry kiss on her lips, which she gladly returned.
When they finally broke for air, Ginny was breathing heavily, and her eyes were half-lidded as she looked at him with open lust. "I missed that," she told him bluntly.
Harry gave her a feral smile. "So did I."
"What about the McIntyre girl?" she asked.
"A pastime, my love. Nothing more."
Ginny smiled in a pleased manner. "Good. Saves me the trouble of having to kill her for getting that intimate with you."
Harry grinned at that. "You know, that sort of talk always made me love you even more," he remarked.
Ginny's eyebrows shot upwards at this as she smirked playfully. "Is that so?"
Harry merely nodded with a smile as he leaned in once more and, kissing his wife, remembered that no matter how long they had been apart, what war had torn them from each other, they would still always have their love for each other.
Hours later, Ginny woke up to see her husband lean against the frame at the back of their bed, his muscular, scarred chest naked to her eye as his green eyes looked clouded in thought.
"Penny for your thoughts," she offered as she turned and leaned on her shoulder as she looked at him.
Green eyes turned to meet her own chocolate eyes, and some amusement glittered in them.
"It'd cost you more than that to know what I'm thinking, love," he teased as one hand stroked her cheek. Ginny purred contentedly as she leaned into his hand.
"I was thinking of Sarah, actually," he told her after a moment.
"Oh?"
"Yeah…it feels weird, still. To know she's my daughter, I mean," he told her as she opened her eyes and looked up at him worriedly.
"How come?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "I guess…it doesn't feel real, in a way. I mean, I wasn't there for her birth…I never saw her take her first steps, say her first words, you know?" he mused out loud. "I mean, I know she's mine. With her looks and that personality, how could she not?"
"Ego trip there, mister!" teased Ginny as she poked him in the ribs, hoping to get him out of such a dark train of thought.
Harry chuckled for a moment before his thoughtful countenance returned. Seeing this, Ginny finally began to get worried.
"Harry, do you…" she dreaded the possible answer to her question. "…do you…not like Sarah?"
Stunned green eyes shot towards her as Harry's jaw dropped.
"What?" he asked, dumbfounded. He then quickly gathered Ginny into a tight hug to him. "Of course I love Sarah!" he reassured her. "How could I not?"
Ginny gave a tremulous smile at that. "It's just…a big step…I mean, I didn't know whether you even wanted children to begin with!" she admitted. "You know, during those years in Panama, my biggest fear was always that you'd reject Sarah…"
"Oh, honey…" Harry comforted her as he tightened his hug around her. "I adore our daughter! She's living proof of what you and I have!" he told her firmly. "And now, I have something else to fight for!"
Looking up curiously, Ginny asked, "What's that?"
Harry gave her a smile. "To build a world for my daughter. A safe, war-free world, where she needn't ever have to fear some bigot coming after her for her bloodline. A world where she could be happy and never fear losing that happiness, even after we're gone."
Ginny smiled brilliantly at her husband as she leaned up and kissed him gently. Breaking it off quickly, she looked at him with a proud look.
"You are a wonderful man, Harry Potter. Whatever your faults, you always seem to rise above them," she told him sincerely. "And for what it's worth, I'm sure you'll give our daughter the world you dream of creating."
Harry smiled down at his wife and, simply whispering a quick, "Thank you," he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, soon losing himself in her.
For the first time in years, Harry would find his sleep untroubled by dark nightmares of horrors past.
No torment to find in the lasting darkness.
No thoughts of bloodshed and screams of pain.
For once, if only for this one time, all he dreamt of was peace.