Chapter Three
Social Niceties
I arrive at the Burrow still a bit dazed from my mishap at work. My regular partner, at least for now, is a man named Lucas Harding. He's been an Auror for ten years longer than I have and was utterly unfazed by my little accident. He was right in the thick of things with Voldemort, and while I suspect we will neither of us ever run into anything that truly surprises us, I still admire his calm. I can only hope I will be that serene one day, when my junior partner severs his own arm whilst trying to get poisonous gunk off it.
I am getting the feeling that criminals who are good at Potions are going to be my least favourite part of my job. Not that I didn't already know that. (No, doctor, I'm not embittered toward the entire field of study—why do you ask?)
I step through the Floo, being careful of my right arm. Lucas reattached it in a jiffy, and we had it checked out by St. Mungo's, but it still doesn't feel exactly right, which is why it's in a sling. I am not pleased. It's my wand arm. The Healer said it will be shaky and weak for a day or two and there is some nasty-coloured bruising at the site of reattachment, just above my elbow. The skin, which looked like raw meat when I got to the hospital, just looks badly sunburnt now. Which likely means I'm going to be stuck in the office doing paperwork and the usual shit they assign to trainees. I am not feeling especially delighted by this, since I was looking forward to not being treated like a newbie anymore. (Point in favour of Aurors: they are not impressed by much and will treat you like the trainee dirt under their shoes that you are. Even if you're Harry Potter.) Poor Ron is dealing with it right now, but I'm not trying to protect him from it and he's not asking me to. He knows it's a rite of passage.
I find Teddy in the living room with Arthur, proudly reading to him from his new book on magical creatures. I didn't know Arthur was going to be home, but I don't say hello just yet. I watch quietly from the doorway while Teddy, slowly and clearly, reads what he can. Arthur, after seven children of his own, is not just patient but encouraging, and I am glad Teddy is comfortable with him. He's just the sort of male influence Teddy could use in his life. I love the Bug and all, but I'm twenty-two. I hardly know everything yet, or at least most things. There are about a million of life's questions that Arthur could answer much better than me.
I hope Remus and Tonks would agree.
Arthur looks up and winks at me before returning his attention to Teddy with appropriate gravity. Teddy concludes the section on bowtruckles and looks up with a grin. Which is when he sees me.
"Harry!" he says, and clambers down off the sofa (with rather less than his usual bounce—he must have been playing hard today) to greet me. I find myself entirely grateful that he's a little worn out, since he doesn't barrel into me and cause my arm further injury. I hug him with my good arm, trying not to let on how awkward it feels, but he frowns immediately. "You got hurt."
"Yes, I did," I agree. "But only because I was being very stupid and not listening to my partner." There are tears in Teddy's eyes, and I am quick to reassure him. "It's not very bad, I promise." I slip off the sling and roll up my sleeve, manfully not wincing or groaning. "See? Just a little bruise."
Teddy gives it a very soft poke with his index finger. "That's not either a little bruise. It's a big bruise. Did you fall down?"
"Well . . ." I hedge.
"No lying, Harry, that's the rules."
I am becoming less proud of that rule by the second.
"My arm fell down," I answer finally. I just can't bring myself to tell a five-year-old this story. Arthur appears to understand, because he looks alarmed, but Teddy just looks suspicious.
"People's arms can't fall down by themselves. You're lying."
He backs away from me.
"Aw, Teddy, wait a second."
He really is crying, now, and he runs out of the room, brushing his hands over his cheeks.
"Teddy!" I turn to Arthur, bewildered. "I didn't want to tell him, it would just freak him out."
"What exactly did happen?" Arthur asks as I am returning my arm to the sling.
"There was this criminal we were sent to arrest for illegal potions-making. There was a fight, and I got this poison all over my arm that would have eaten right through me. I panicked and I, er, I cut my arm off."
"Harry," he says in surprise.
"I'm fine," I say quickly. "Lucas, my partner, he put it right back on and took me straight to St. Mungo's to have me looked at. They said I'll be right as rain in a couple of days. The Healer actually chewed Lucas out, a bit," I say with a grin, remembering his trapped expression as the tiny woman waved her finger in his face, "for putting it back on himself instead of bringing me in right away. She said she could have done it without all the bruising. Anyway, I'll be okay."
Arthur pats my shoulder. "I'm glad you're all right. You'd better find Teddy and explain."
"What should I say?"
"As much of the truth as you can manage. You were a kid yourself, Harry, not so long ago. You never wanted to be 'protected' like that. You wanted adults to trust you."
"Right," I say decisively. Wasn't I just thinking a couple of days ago how much I wished I'd been told the truth about myself earlier than I was? I should do Teddy the courtesy of giving him the consideration I wish I'd been given. "Thanks, Mr. Weasley," I remember to say, before heading out to track Teddy down.
"Don't tell Molly it was my advice," he calls after me, and I can't help but grin a bit.
I find Bug outside, in the garden, being cuddled by Molly. She is drying his eyes and asking him why he's crying. When he sees me coming, he tries to make a run for it again, but Molly holds onto him so he can't escape.
"Now, listen to me, young man," she says severely to him. "You're never too young to learn this: you can't run away from your troubles. You can face them with bravery, or you can let them hit you from behind, but they'll always catch up. Which way do you want to do it?"
Teddy angrily scrubs at his face and turns to me. His mouth is pouting, but his eyes are sad. I kneel down, not caring right now about the muddy ground. There were already bloodstains on my trousers, anyway.
"Hey, Bug."
He just pouts.
"I'm sorry about what happened inside. I know the rule, and I should have followed it. I didn't want to tell you what happened because I thought it would scare you, and I didn't want you to be scared. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Do you forgive me?"
He gives his cheeks one last swipe, but nods. I hold out my left arm.
"Com'ere."
He shuffles forward into my rather awkward embrace.
"Thank you," I mutter, a little bit undone by the whole thing. Then I prop him against one of my knees and tell him, very briefly, about my accident at work. He is wide-eyed, but he doesn't act particularly frightened. I think I've underestimated the Bug. Then he carefully rolls up my sleeve to look at the bruise again. With a solemn look, he kisses it.
"If I had a wand, I could fix it like you fixed my finger," he says sadly.
And I thought I was undone before. I just squeeze him for a minute till I can find my voice.
"That's really nice of you to say, Teddy. I wish it was true. But I did go to see a Healer at the hospital, and they already did everything they could with a wand. They said the only thing left to do is to wait for it to get better on its own. It should only be a few days. I bet my arm will be all healed by the time your grandma gets back from her holiday." Merlin, but I hope so. I can't even begin to imagine that conversation.
Teddy looks doubtful, but he just kisses my arm again.
"Are we still going to see the Quidditch game for Auntie Ginny?"
"Oh, yes," I assure him. "In fact, we need to hurry home to change clothes so we can go. I don't want to be late."
He pulls away and urges me to my feet. He actually isn't the biggest Quidditch fan on record, but he's excited about getting to travel somewhere, and about seeing Ginny. Honestly, I think he's excited because I am. It's kind of touching.
"Harry, dear, you take care of that arm," Molly says sternly. "Don't overdo. If you need help, you can call us anytime."
"Thanks," I smile.
"Are you two going to stay for dinner?"
"Afraid not. We have to run. But don't worry," I add. "I'll make sure we both get something to eat when we get there. I wasn't going to forget."
"See that you don't," she says severely.
"Thanks for watching him today!" I call out as we enter the house.
"Anytime, dear!" she calls back.
Then we hurry back to my place so I can take off my stained clothing and put on something nice— which is difficult, just like I knew it was going to be. Then I turn to my nightstand.
After just staring at it for a minute, my pulse pounding so hard it's making my ears hurt, I pick up the box with the ring, and slip it into my pocket. Teddy has already changed clothes when I peek into his room, and he's just laying on his bed, looking at the ceiling. I wonder what this is all about, if he's pouting over something, but we can talk about it later. I just take hold of him and lead him to the fireplace. He's still so small that we can fit through together, and I'm in no way ready to take the chance on him going alone.
I don't know when I'm going to have the chance to propose. Maybe I'll send Teddy to the bathroom or something.
The stadium is barely half-filled. This is not an important game, by any means. Neither the Harpies nor the Arrows have any new players this year, so no one has come out to scout for England's national team. But I love watching Ginny play. She's so fast and so determined. She always gets through, this little powerhouse that people have learned by now should not be underestimated.
This is the second game Teddy has come to see—the first time was when the Harpies were in the league playoffs against the Kestrels and he and Andromeda were here with the whole Weasley family. It was crowded and noisy and he spent the entire night with his head buried under his grandmother's arm. I expect this one will be a little easier on him.
We find our seats, right at the center of the pitch (I always get good seats, being Harry Potter and in a relationship with their talented outside Chaser) and I settle Teddy beside me. It's becoming a bit chilly, but we've remembered our jackets and I don't anticipate rain or anything, so I think we should be comfortable. There are several food vendors, so I ask Teddy what we wants to eat. He says nothing.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"No, thank you," he says politely.
"Did your Aunt Molly feed you too much today?"
He nods and smiles.
"Figures," I chuckle. I wouldn't say no to something to eat, but I want to wait so that I can take Ginny out later. I just didn't want the Bug to go hungry during the game. Teddy sits quietly beside me, and I am slightly concerned. He's pretty comfortable with me already, and over the past few days he's started to chatter at me whenever he has something to say. Maybe he's just all talked out after his day with Molly.
People are sitting down all around us, and I am obliged several times to greet someone whom I do not actually know. I used to let it get to me, but Kingsley Shacklebolt has talked to me a few times about it, and I no longer see the harm in being just a tad politick. I should never underestimate my popularity's power to make an investigation easier. And if shaking a few hands makes things easier for my fellow Aurors, I suppose I can shake a few hands. Teddy is entirely silent during this, which doesn't surprise me. He never has liked strangers much. And the people who are greeting me are just as content not to speak to him, either. Many of them already know who he is, and know who I am, and—well, there's a story out there. About me. I know, go figure. (What? I wouldn't dream of letting fame get to me!)
Let's just say that when you know who Teddy's parents were, and you're talking to me, and you act apologetic about Remus' life when I know for a fact that you were one of the people fomenting that prejudice . . . you might end up with the word "hypocrite" written in boils on your forehead. I'm just saying. (Hermione is a font of useful spells, have I ever mentioned that?) I'd like to say that I'm older now and too mature to let my temper get the better of me anymore. I'd like to say that. But it happened three months ago. That was when Kingsley thought he and I should talk.
Teddy has been sitting beside me, quietly sinking into misery, and I'm trying desperately to think of a way to switch to a new seat without offending anyone. Then, suddenly, Bug's face lights up and he lifts his head and waves at something over my shoulder. I turn and feel my own face brightening.
"Luna!" I call out to my friend, who is ten rows up and unlikely to be able to hear me. "Luna!"
She waves cheerily, and continues on toward her seat. Rolling my eyes, I use my hands to beckon her to come down here. She looks surprised, but begins to carefully navigate her way through the crowd of people.
"Mister Harry Potter," a man says near me, drawing my attention. "Well met."
"Evening, Mr. Marlowe." I nod at the man with gray-streaked brown hair and a thick build, who works in Hermione's area in the DMLE and is, marginally, her superior. I have to play nice with this particular wizard, I suppose. Despite knowing that Hermione hates him, and the way he always gives me that oily smile like he wants to be friends but doesn't actually grasp the concept. "I didn't know you fancied Quidditch, sir."
He is clucking his tongue in disagreement, a habit that just sets my nerves even more on edge. "I've a business meeting in Cardiff tomorrow morning, but I'm obliged to attend the game tonight. My meeting is with a gentleman whose young cousin is Seeker for the Arrows. Shall we be cheering on opposing sides, then?"
"I guess so," I say, trying to smile but feeling that it's a bit thin. He's such a pompous arse. Thank Merlin he's not an Auror.
"Still, it's possible to share an amicable evening—" he begins, looking like he means to sit down next to me, and I will be damned if I have to share the few hours before I propose to my girlfriend with Jarvis bloody Marlowe.
"Awfully sorry, sir, but I think the young lady is sitting there," I interrupt.
"Young lady?" he repeats, looking startled.
Yes, you bloody idiot, the one who's standing directly behind you.
"Good evening, Miss Lovegood," I say in a tone that is carefully casual. Marlowe can stuff it if he thinks he's going to spend his evening dredging up the personal details of Harry Potter's life. That includes Harry Potter's close friends, thank you very much. "I've held your seat, just like you asked."
Luna was not cut out for subterfuge, and has her mouth open to say something damaging (like, "this isn't my seat," or "why are you calling me Miss Lovegood, Harry?") so I meet her eyes and give my head a very small shake. She smiles serenely and sits down next to me, and turns her strange eyes on Mr. Marlowe.
"Hello," she says in a distracted voice. "How nice, to have such a good seat for the game. I do love Quidditch. Don't you, sir?"
"Er, I . . . suppose. I'm here to support the Arrows, you know, I hear they've got a top-notch Seeker."
"But I heard that their Seeker is very mediocre," she says, smiling innocently. "You're Mr. Marlowe, from Hermione Granger's office, aren't you? I'm Luna Lovegood."
"Pleasure," he stammers, and attempts to confirm that she is indeed to the current editor of The Quibbler, but botches it and hurries off, muttering something about "early morning meetings."
"Good riddance," I mutter. "Stupid lickspittle."
Luna turns to me, the dreamy smile now holding an air of satisfaction. "Sometimes it's very useful that I can make people uncomfortable," she says. "I didn't think you or Teddy liked him very much, so I tried to make him go away."
Teddy is grinning at her, and I think I am, too.
"Thanks, Luna."
"Harry, what happened to your arm?"
"Oh, just an accident at work," I shrug, not ready to go into the whole thing again. "I'll be fine in a day or two."
"Well, that's good. And now that I've rescued you, I suppose I should return to my seat," she says, standing up, and my grin quickly turns to a frown.
"What? No, Luna, stay here with us."
"I didn't get a box seat."
"It's okay, there's always a few empty seats in this area. Don't worry, nobody will argue. You're with me."
"Am I?" she blinks.
"You are now," I say firmly.
"All right," she says serenely, and then Teddy is getting up from my other side so he can squeeze in between us.
"I'm glad you're going to watch the game with us, Miss Luna," he says happily. "I missed you."
It's true that we haven't seen Luna in a while. Her father is getting old, and she's taken over nearly all the responsibilities of publishing The Quibbler. She's been even busier than I have.
"I missed you, too," she says, smiling at Teddy.
"You were lying to that man about how much you like Quidditch, though," he says, sounding very sure of himself.
Luna laughs, a silvery, misty sound. "I do like it, sometimes."
"But what are you doing in Holyhead, Luna?" I interject. "Long way from Ottery St. Catchpole." The Lovegoods hadn't wanted to rebuild their house after the war, but they were far too used to the town to leave. They simply found a slightly more traditional-looking house in the area, and Luna lives there with her father still.
"I am doing an interview for work tonight."
"Interview?"
"I am doing a piece on Mr. Rolf Scamander. He recently published a children's book, you know, and I thought it would be nice to have an interview with him in our next issue. I'm sure he has a fascinating outlook on the endangerment of Wrackspurts here in Wales."
"Does he live here?"
"He lives in Bangor."
"But you're meeting in Holyhead?"
"He knows that I'm a friend of Ginny's, and he thought I might be here to see her match, so he suggested meeting here. I thought that would be okay. Then I thought that if I was already here, I should come see Ginny, after all."
"I'm glad we ran into you, then. It would have been awful if we were both here and missed each other," I say, and I'm surprised to realize how much I mean it. She has been my friend through some of the worst times in my life, and it's nice to be able to share the box seat with her instead of people like Marlowe who don't care anything about me beyond my name.
"Is Mr. Scamander not going to be here for the game, then?" I inquire.
"No, he said he would meet me at the Dwynwen and Potion, the little restaurant down the road, after."
"That's where I was hoping to take Ginny tonight," I answer, not particularly surprised that we have the same destination, since it's the only magical pub in the area. And then, an idea springs to mind. "Maybe we could all share a table," I suggest. It might be fun, after all. And if, perchance, I needed to speak to pull Ginny away from the table to speak to her, for just a minute, this Scamander bloke and Luna wouldn't be too upset if Teddy stayed with them . . .
(Ulterior motives? Me? Never!)
So we watch the game in a state of pleasant companionship. Teddy and Luna, neither of them huge Quidditch fans, chat a bit about Mr. Scamander's book, with Luna taking Teddy's opinion very seriously—probably the reason Bug loves her so much. Whereas I am watching Ginny fly, still amazed and thrilled at how natural she looks up there, darting around the other players, taking risks with no fear of getting hurt. She scores four of the seven goals the Harpies get, and the Arrows get only three goals in before the Harpies Seeker, Gladys Cadwallader, recovers the Snitch. It's a pretty crushing defeat, and I can't help but smirk when I think of Jarvis Marlowe and his business meeting with the uncle of the Arrow's Seeker.
Luna volunteers to escort Teddy to the pub while I go wait for Ginny outside the locker room. I glance at Bug, but he seems amenable to the idea of being without me for a minute. Excepting the Weasleys, Teddy trusts precisely three of my friends, and Luna is one of them. So I promise to be along soon, and give Luna a quick, grateful hug. I know her perceptiveness by now, and I know she is trying to give me the opportunity to say hello to Ginny without company.
Ginny emerges from the locker rooms after way longer than necessary, exiting alongside Gwenog Jones, both of them laughing about something. I have been leaning against the wall, but I straighten up now and give her a little wave. Ginny knew I was going to be here tonight, so she had her eye out for me, anyway.
"What did I tell you?" she says to Gwenog with a smile. "Absolutely reliable."
I have the sneaking suspicion she means me. And I'm not sure how I feel about being characterised as "absolutely reliable" without at least having "totally sexy" added in. Still, I nod at Miss Jones with a smile. She and I like each other, mostly because neither of us have brought up the idea of autographs in the few times we've had these passing meetings. Famous people know well enough not to bother each other.
"I'm afraid I have to steal your lovely star Chaser away," I say, taking a playful hold on Ginny's elbow with my good hand. "I am under strict orders from her mother to feed her dinner."
Ginny rolls her eyes, but allows me to lead her away. "Cheers, Noggie," she calls back, and I try not to choke. Noggie?
Ginny murmurs, "I've reached the stage of calling her something other than Miss Jones. If you laugh and ruin it for me, I'm going to tell the whole world that you talk in your sleep."
"I do not!"
"Do so," she says with dignity, and tugs her arm out of my grip, but only so she can insinuate herself into a closer embrace against my side. Makes walking a bit dicey, but I'm not complaining. "Dwynwen and Potion, yeah?"
"Yup."
"I thought Teddy was with you."
"We met up with Luna. She's having dinner there with somebody tonight, and she offered to take Teddy with her so I could give you a proper snogging before we had to be polite for company."
Ginny gives me a horrified look. "Are you telling me that Luna is on a date, and you made her take a five-year-old with her?"
"Ah, no. Interview for the magazine. They've never met, I don't think."
"At least you're not a total idiot," she sighs, and leans in so we can have that kiss. I think we're both a bit distracted tonight, but not every kiss can make stars explode in my head, I suppose. Still, time for that later. When I stop sweating buckets about the idea, and actually pop the question.
"You didn't even ask about the sling," I say after a moment.
"I thought it must have happened at work."
"It did. You aren't even curious?"
She gives me an odd look. "You usually hate talking about that kind of stuff. Don't you?"
"Yeah," I admit, and I'm not sure why I feel upset. But she should have asked me, right? I mean, she's my girlfriend. She's supposed to be concerned about it, and now she's being all damned logical about it.
"I was assuming you didn't want me to go all female and fuss over you, but I can if you like," she says with raised eyebrows, screwing up her face and preparing to let loose a wail.
"That's okay," I say quickly, and feel my mood lifting at her good humour.
"Are you okay?" she asks more seriously.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Went to St. Mungo's and had it checked out. Nothing serious."
I've been having these passing thoughts about my previous life as a Muggle ever since Teddy and I cooked dinner earlier in the week, and now it makes me chuckle, just a little. If a Muggle spilled acid on their arm, panicked, and chopped the thing off, it would be pretty damned serious.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because I love being a wizard," I answer, and pull her in to my side to brush my lips over her cheek. No reason. Just because. She flashes me that dazzling smile, and then we arrive at the pub, and make our way over to our table.
Luna and Ginny greet each other with real pleasure—they don't see each other too often, these days—and immediately fall into some discussion of things I don't follow. Because I am not a girl. I have no opinion on the merits of Luna cutting her hair versus keeping it long. It never would have occurred to me that she should do anything with it, really. Except . . . I think the idea of cutting it bothers me, now I think about it. She's always been the same. Changing something about Luna doesn't seem right. (Clinging to the past, doctor? Whatever would give you that idea?) But the conversation about it is the most boring thing I've been subjected to in a long, long time.
Teddy seems to agree with me, because he moves over closer to me. He's not talking, and now I think there's more to it than being uncomfortable out in public. He looks tired. Andromeda is pretty strict about his table manners, but I think he'd pillow his head in his arms and go to sleep on the table if he had the chance. I slip an arm around him and give him an encouraging squeeze, just when the esteemed Mr. Scamander walks in.
I know it's him because Luna says, "There's Mr. Scamander."
He's a tallish, blond bloke, not in particularly good shape, but not particularly bad, either. Wide shoulders. Eyes scanning the room carefully—a sharp guy, I think. I'm learning how to make snap judgements about people in the course of my job (not that I didn't already, I guess) and my immediate impression is that of a very observant man who is slow to act on what he sees. A calm person, I amend when the sight of the vampire standing at the bar makes him do nothing more than raise an eyebrow and check he's got his wand in his pocket.
Luna stands up, meeting his gaze, and he comes across the room with those sharp eyes checking out not only her, but me and Ginny and Teddy as well.
"It's a pleasure to meet you at least, Miss Lovegood," he says in a voice that is deep but quiet.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Scamander," she murmurs. She is not one for social niceties, and seems to be at a bit of a loss about how to proceed with explaining the company.
I've never been one to leave a friend hanging. Nor to hesitate. I've been trying to learn a bit of this stuff from Kingsley, and it's time to see how well it pays off. (No, it's not going to be an unmitigated disaster, thanks very much.)
I stand up. "I guess I should apologise, Mr. Scamander, for the intrusion. Luna is a dear friend of ours, and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see her. I'm Harry Potter."
"Yes, I suppose you are," he says, casting a glance at my forehead, which is plainly visible since I started cutting my hair regularly. (I am not daring people to stare at me, I just like to be well-groomed!)
"Ginny Weasley," I say, as my girlfriend stands up to shake his hand, and he takes in her stylish robes acting counterpoint to her messy, windswept hair. "And this is Teddy."
Teddy solemnly shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir," he says politely. "I like your book."
"Do you?" Scamander says with a smile of real pleasure. "I'm glad to hear that." He takes the empty seat at the table, and smiles at Luna. "Not only a chance to speak to the press, but such interesting companions for dinner. I'm impressed, Miss Lovegood."
I can't say I like the way he looks at her. Like he really is impressed, instead of just making a joking comment. Like he wasn't expecting much out of her. I should be used to it, I've been friends with Luna for a long time and she gets those looks constantly. But she's a brilliant witch, and a good writer and editor, and it's not hard to see if you're looking.
Luna just smiles in that distant way she has, and asks him if he would mind allowing her to use a few of Teddy's comments when the article goes to publication.
"If that's all right with you, Teddy," she adds.
Teddy smiles a tired smile at her. "Okay, Miss Luna," he says.
"Harry, are you Teddy's legal guardian?" she asks suddenly.
I am, sort of. Technically, Andromeda has custody of him, but I could take him away from her if it ever came down to that. Not that I'd want to, for Merlin's sake, but I'm not entirely sure why Luna is asking in any case, so I'm not sure whether to just say yes or delve into the more lengthy explanation. (I'd rather not, with Mr. Calm Wisdom sitting there with an interested expression.)
"I think she'd need your permission to print Teddy's quote," Mr. Calm Wisdom throws in, and Luna nods, beaming at him.
"Yes, exactly."
"Oh. Well, um, when are you . . .?"
"Day after tomorrow," she says.
Andromeda doesn't get back until the following day. Damn. I am legally qualified to make these decisions without her, should it be necessary, but she's not a woman I want to cross. But Teddy is giving me a look of great eagerness, and I cave.
"Yeah, sure," I say casually. But, feeling a sense of panic at how I might explain this to Andromeda, I add, "But leave off his last name, okay?"
Luna is surprised, but agrees.
"I had thought he was yours," Scamander says, his eyes on me but his eyebrow quirked, somehow, in Teddy's direction. Right. Where would I have been hiding him all this time? I think someone might have noticed if I'd had a son.
"He's my godson," I say briefly, and then Ginny, bless her forever, changes the subject to what we might all like for dinner. Bug is between us, so I can't squeeze her hand under the table, but I do manage to send a look her way that has her smiling and even going a bit red.
Luna and Rolf, who decide to be on a first-name basis when the food begins to arrive, say they will wait to do the interview until later, after we've eaten. I wonder how I'll manage to get Ginny away from everyone for a moment—Rolf, it turns out, is a lot better with imaginary kids than with real ones. He and Bug are finding it hard to talk to each other, and I'm not so sure I want to leave Teddy with him.
In fact, I'm not so sure I want to leave the kid at all. He's looking very peaky, shoving his food around his plate with a fork, pale, quiet. I'm worried about him. I lean down to whisper in his ear.
"Bug, what's wrong?"
"I don't feel good," he says, and I feel a distinct dropping sensation in my belly. I slide a hand to his forehead, wondering if I will even be able to tell whether it's warmer than normal. But I shouldn't be worried about that, because it's bloody obvious. He feels hot. I'm such a dope. He's got a fever, which I knew was a possibility, and I didn't notice until he was already feeling like crap.
"I'll try to get us out of here soon, okay?" I whisper. "And then we can go home and I'll get you to bed."
He doesn't look happy, but he nods, and I straighten up again. Ginny's eyebrows are raised at me, but I just shrug. Can I still try to propose to her? Or would it be cruel, when Teddy is feeling so low? Maybe I can wait on this just a little longer . . . It's not like Ginny is going anywhere, but I just want to have this part of it over with. (Insecurity? What would give you that idea?)
The meal is progressing pleasantly enough, so I decide it's now or never. "I don't know if I'm being unspeakably rude—I'm not so good at this whole manners thing, better at running down criminals—but would you mind if I excused myself and Ginny for—"
That's as far as I get. Because suddenly, Teddy goes limp in his seat, dropping a glass of pumpkin juice on the table and toppling sideways right into my lap.
"Teddy?" I whisper, which is the only way to keep myself from screaming. I get a hold of him, lift him so I can see his face, and see that he's white as a sheet and his teeth are clenched together. "Bug?"
"Don't feel good," he mutters.
I look up at the others, feeling stricken, and they're all looking back at me like I should know what I'm doing. All I can see, for a moment, is the stain of pumpkin juice creeping across the tablecloth, and a weird buzzing noise in my ears. Then—
"Right," I say decisively, and slide my arm out of its sling, picking up Teddy and laying him against my shoulder. I jerk to my feet, my arms holding him tight against me. "I need to get him back to London straightaway, I'm sorry, I've got to go right now—"
My eyes light on Ginny, who stands up and comes toward me and places her hand on Teddy's back.
"Don't worry about us, Harry. Just get him back."
"Thank you," I blurt out, relieved that she understands. Luna and Rolf are standing up as well, and Luna comes forward to place a careful kiss on Bug's fever-heated cheek.
"I am sure you will feel better soon," she says with great assurance. "Harry will take care of you."
Merlin, I can only hope so. I'll have to call his Healer. Will the witch be willing to come, at eight o'clock at night? And just for a fever? Maybe I'll have to do this on my own, much as the idea scares me.
The barman lets me back into the manager's office so I can use the Floo, and it's only moments before I'm back at Grimmauld Place. Teddy lifts up his head to look around, then lays his head down on my shoulder again with a sigh.
"Can I go to bed now?"
"Yes," I say, starting up the stairs immediately. "Do you need a glass of water?"
"No," he grunts, and placidly lets me help him put on pyjamas and slide him into his covers. "Thank you," he says, polite to the end.
"I'll stay with you," I say helplessly. Or maybe I'll call Molly. Molly would know what to do, right?
"I'm okay," Teddy says quietly. "I'm going to sleep now."
"You don't want me to stay?"
"I'm okay," he repeats.
"If you're sure," I say, feeling too lost to argue with him. I've always wanted him to be allowed to have privacy, and I'm not sure if this is the time to break that boundary, or not. Maybe he'll be fine. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to get outside help, if he doesn't improve, wouldn't it? "I'll just be in my room down the hall."
He nods a little, and I hesitate only briefly before leaving. I turn around to flick off the light switch, just in time to see Teddy reaching for the thick gloves he keeps on the nightstand. This seems to bear out my assumption that they are his version of a security blanket. With my arm now sending bolts of pain all the way to my shoulder, I decide to take a potion to knock the edge off it. I choke on the taste, brush my teeth, and slide into bed. I'm worrying about Bug all the way down into sleep.