"Harry Potter and the Power of Faith"
Chapter Four
- Brief Interlude -
A/N: I don't own squat, save for the plot.
Previously
"She will be free from the Powers soon. Don't hesitate, and you'll see me again."
"Yes, sir."
Grinning, Isorropía thrust his hands into Harry's chest. "Take it!"
Harry screamed.
– – –
"Still Mate?"
She didn't have to think about it. "Oh, hell yes."
Sineya palmed Faith's stomach. "Need."
Faith gasped as she felt something grow with power in the middle of her gut.
– – –
Faith and Harry opened their eyes and realized they were kissing each other. Faith was still on top of him, and he had a firm grip on her back and backside keeping her close. After a few minutes, they broke the kiss and stared in each other's eyes.
"Hello Faith," he said with a shy smile.
She grinned, loving the sound of his voice. "Hey Harry. Welcome to the Hellmouth."
3:46PM Wesley's House
She didn't know whether she was going to laugh or cry. After waking to the most intense kiss she could ever remember, she felt … dizzy. That was the only word she could think of. It was like being on that spinney thing on a playground that was going fifty miles an hour round and round, before coming to a complete stop. Oh, she still had her balance, but inside she was all over the place.
It was wonderful.
Glancing at her boy-toy as they descended the stairs, she realized that he was just as out of it. He matched her glance, causing him to smirk with a bit of a blush. That sight had her giggling of all things. Giggling! Faith – Does – Not – Giggle! Then again, Faith has never been completely sated before either. That boy's tongue should be listed as either a lethal weapon, or the epitome of sex aids. Possibly both. Lethal sex aid?
Their first tryst together was Harry's first, period. And, while they did go through memory lane with the help of a higher being, they weren't privy to every minute detail. Thank God for small favours. Still though, Harry was reluctant at first, if only due to the fact that he knew what Faith's father did to her and didn't want to cause her any more pain. This was a first for her. Anyone else would've been all over her, not that she actually went after just anyone.
Since she was in prime position and knew what that was doing to him, Faith simply attempted to reach the boy's tonsils while moving the appropriate coverings out of the way. After that and a slow shimmy, the pair of them lost all sense of focus and couldn't move. The intensity was so high, that they couldn't make a sound. That might have been fortunate, however. As it was, there wasn't any sort of movement except involuntary and ecstatic convulsions.
When they finally came down and stared in each other's eyes again, they felt something had clicked into place. Neither of them knew what exactly clicked, but it didn't matter because they simply fit. While they knew they were both broken, they knew the other filled the gaps that was in the other. Of course, neither of them noticed the small light show they had been putting off at the time. Nothing too spectacular, just a bit of silver and red dancing between them.
It was rather significant, though, even if they missed it.
With smirking grins on their faces, they entered the kitchen and split up. Harry made for the pantry, while Faith pulled out cooking pots and whatnot. They were in the middle of making breakfast for dinner when the kitchen door opened.
Caffeinated and still bleary, Wes went over the files that Poppy had given him. Reading Mr. Potter's was a touch redundant, but he was meticulous about details. Seeing the venom and tears confirmed was a touch nauseating, and it had made him wonder what the devil was going on at his Alma Mater.
Poppy's notes on what Lockhart did to his arm was rather scathing. Then again, her notes on what appeared to be her most frequent patient seemed to be scathing as well. Numerous Quidditch injuries, hexings and whatnot, with…
"I beg your pardon?" Wes blurted at no one. "Dementors? At a Bloody School? Three attacks? Has the whole world gone 'round the twist?" That revelation made him wish he had some Ogden's handy. Fourth year seemed to be a bit of a disaster as well. Fifth… "Who the devil is Dolores Umbridge, and WHY was she consigning Mr. Potter to write lines with a ruddy Blood Quill?"
He had to pause, as he suddenly became sick to his stomach. Setting aside the file, he opened the other one.
Miss Granger's was a touch amusing at first. Apparently, other than a few knocks and bruises, she had successfully brewed polyjuice potion in her second year, and only messed up the final ingredient. That's a N.E.W.T. potion! The wizarding photo of the result forced several chuckles out of him and an amused 'oh my dear', but his humour died when he read that she was one of the petrification victims later that year.
"Of course!" his mind connected the dots of venom and tears. "Reflected stare of a basilisk. Wonder how many it took to kill it?" he asked himself.
The third year notes were a touch cryptic. There was a reference to exhaustion but no cause listed. Fourth year had references to quite a few calming draughts. He flipped through Mr. Potter's file for similar dates and remembered the bother that was the Tri-Wizard Tournament. So, the draughts made sense in that context. He'd need them too.
The meat of what he was after was at the tail end of her file. He noted the odd frequency of the cutting curse that Poppy recorded and did some mental Arithmancy. Eyes popping, he searched for and found references to severe organ bruising all along the underside of the scar. He would bet money that whatever the curse was, it had to have been either a graze or severely underpowered.
The notes for the somewhat weak amorentia in her system completely offended him. Thankful that there was an easy cure for it, he wondered if she would need a mind healer or a psychologist. That it was keyed to someone that was considered a close friend would be grounds for terminating said friendship, then wondering where one went wrong.
Sighing, Wesley rubbed his eyes and made to take a break. Coming into the hallway had him become aware of a rather lovely smell of food. Eggs, the scent of syrup and potatoes… breakfast? He checked his watch just to make sure he hadn't worked overnight again, then made his way down to the kitchen… concerned.
Faith was a horrid cook.
What he found when he entered the kitchen shocked him. Set aside the fact that Mr. Potter shouldn't even be conscious, it was the sight of him and Faith working in perfect tandem around the stove and counter that had him gaping.
He stood there and watched, dumbfounded, while Faith poured the batter she just finished whisking into a skillet, while at the same time leaning back so that the lad could grab something off the spice rack. He caught the sides of their apparently smiling faces as they worked, before they addressed him.
"Well, Bow-Tie, gonna stand there all day?" Faith asked.
Harry looked over his shoulder at him and grinned. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Thank you for the wonderful healing and taking me in last night. Thought I could whip up something as a fair payment, but things… escalated… a bit."
Just hearing Faith giggle was a novel experience, but seeing her bump shoulders with Mr. Potter while she did it sent alarm bells though his head. "Oh, come off it, Harry," he heard her say. "You know I used to burn water."
Nodding, Harry smirked at her. "And I couldn't let that go. Yes. I know, dear."
'Dear?' Wesley thought to himself. "Forgive me if this sounds rather abrupt, Mr. Potter, but how are you awake?"
"He's either wigged over you being upright, or the fact that I'm cooking," Faith commented. "Have a seat, Wes. I think you're gonna like this. We'll talk over breaky."
Wesley baulked at what he heard. 'Breaky? Why the devil did I just hear a London accent spring out of her?'
Eyeing him over her shoulder, Faith winked. "Siddown b'fore you break th'floor," she said with her usual Bostonian clip.
"Right," Wesley said with a blink, before he took a seat. "Uhm, yes. Could you…"
"Food first," Faith interrupted. "We're starving." She turned to her left with wide eyes. "Gentle, Harry! That's the third one you mangled."
"Damn," he muttered. "Sorry."
Faith lifted a large plate of something and spun to place it on the table. "Looks like we get to go grocery shopping."
"What for?" Wesley asked, wondering what he forgot to get yesterday.
"Egg training," Faith stated, causing Harry to groan.
The lad turned with a plate of rather nice smelling 'poor man bangers' (spiced hamburger meat fried up in link shape) to set on the table. "That's so…"
"Necessary," Faith stated. "Sucks. But if you don't, you can hurt someone. What are you going to do if you break Hermione with a hug?"
Harry sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Be fair though. She's come close to cracking my ribs several times."
Faith whacked his arm with a chuckle as she fetched some juice from the fridge, setting it on the table. "Do yourself a favour, Bow Tie, and don't shake hands with the man yet."
Wesley blinked. "What has happened, and why would he need egg training?"
"So he wont break your fingers, duh," Faith deadpanned.
Wes blinked again, trying to tie this into a semblance of order. He flinched when heard a glass shatter, along with Mr. Potter's swearing and apologizing.
"Okay, Bull," Faith said, her smirk never left her face, since she was watching what she went through the first time happening to someone else and thought it was hysterical. "Sit down. I'll handle the glasses and get you a plastic one. You get picnic-ware too."
"Picnic-ware?" he asked, confused.
There was a rustle, before two blurs of white flew across the room. Harry caught them both with one hand. "Oh! Plastic flatware." Sighing, he sat next to Wes with a pensive look on his face. "Sorry."
"What is going on?" Wes half demanded. He didn't even see the utensils until Harry caught them.
"In short," Mr. Potter started.
"Prophecy time!" Faith sing-songed.
Wes blinked once more. "… shit."
"Quite," Harry said dryly. "You want the long version, or the highlights?" He leaned back without looking, while Faith set his big blue glass of orange juice in front of him. "Thanks, dear."
"No problem, stud," Faith said in Harry's ear, before licking the outer edge of it. Grinning at the face he made, she sat on the opposite side of the table.
Apparently, that was the point where Wes reached his limit. "All right! Stop this! I understand hormones can cause radical changes, but you two have barely met and are far too in synch to be normal!"
Sighing, Harry gave him a droll look. "Could you not have waited another thirty seconds?" He eyed the victory grin Faith was sporting. "Yes. Fine." He sighed again.
Faith bounced in her seat happily, then filled her plate. "Don't sweat it, babe. I'll have you lookin' good by the time I'm done with you."
Harry gathered what he considered Ron sized portions, then pointed at Wes' plate. "Eat while it's still hot. Or don't, seeing as now I have to contend with her taste for my new clothes. Which, by the way, I'll need access to a Gringotts branch. Are there any close?"
"There's one in the magical quarter in San Francisco," Wes said quietly. Looking back and forth between the two, he was fit to be tied. However, seeing Harry eat as ravenously as Faith would after a night on patrol, he decided it was best to gather something before it was all gone. Also, the sight of Faith blissing from the food was… disturbing. That is, until he had a few bites.
"I can't believe you made this, Faith," the Watcher said, completely surprised. "It's simply marvellous."
Nodding happily, she swallowed. "He's a keeper, and this is part of what we need to talk about. But not right now."
After they were done eating, Harry wandlessly put the dishes away with a simple wave of his hand. "Hmph. That was easier than I thought it would be."
"Now would be a good time to start explaining," Wesley complained.
Looking at him, Harry relented. "The one with the power…"
A/N - Sorry so short.