Fragments of Hope

by Kaleidoskye

AU The smallest action can alter the course of the future. But even in a world where Remus and Tonks survive to know the peaceful times after the war, there are still obstacles to overcome, prejudices to fight, decisions to make and evil to subdue. And for a new generation, these challenges are proving just as difficult, in their own way, as the ones their parents knew before them.

37. Eirene

O

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EIRENE

Peace

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One Year Later

September

Hope knocked on the flat door that had once been her own and waited, still indignant that her parents and Teddy had chosen to be out of their respective homes when she had hoped to surprise them. Yes, admittedly they didn't think she was coming back for another week, but that really wasn't the point. Knowing her luck Dom and Roxanne wouldn't be in either.

There came the sound of footsteps, before Roxanne threw the door open and gave a shriek of joy at the sight of her.

"Surprise?" Hope grinned. "I came back early."

"Oh My God. Come in, come in! You have so much to tell me. Dom's out with Cal and Morella's viewing flats, which is great." Roxanne sat down and looked up at her expectantly. "Because it means I get all your gossip first."

Hope settled herself on the sofa opposite, while Dot bounced around the familiar surroundings in delight. The living room looked the same as it always had, with the difference that Morella had accumulated several more plants since Easter. Hope could see more leaf than wall now.

"So!" Roxanne said. "When do you start?"

"Two weeks. And I have loads to do before then, hence the early return. Need new equipment for one thing - my gloves definitely won't last another season - and I'll need better thermals for training in this country in winter."

"Have you told James yet?" Roxanne enquired.

"No. He might have heard though. The news is already spreading."

"True that." Roxanne chortled to herself. "He's going to be so mad. Not only do you turn down a contract renewal with Aguilas but on top of that you switch to the enemy team."

Hope stretched out her legs contentedly and continued to fill Roxanne in on recent events. She and Morella had visited Madrid at the end of June, but a lot had happened even since then.

It had been an interesting year to say the least. Determined not to waste her second chance, Hope had prioritised her studies and maintained her momentum throughout the year, passing all modules of her course with above average grades. They weren't top grades - she would never have Teddy's brains - but she was proud of them nonetheless. She had also immersed herself in the social scene of Wizarding Madrid from the off, and the other students on her course had been a friendly bunch from all over the world, many of whom she intended to keep in touch with.

Cat, despite her self-affirmed lack of subtlety and the doubts Hope had experienced at their first meeting, had turned out to be kind, supportive and dependable, not to mention hilarious company, and she and Hope had become firm friends. She was now in the States working for MACUSA, but the two had plans to meet up later in the year. Damiano - or Damiano the Disgusting, as Hope had taken to calling him in her head - was another matter entirely, but she wasn't overly bothered about him.

Finally, when she hadn't been studying, she had been busy training. Aguilas had spotted her at the start of year trials and recruited her for their reserve team, and so James had won his bet from the off. In January, one of the team's starting chasers had struggled with a back condition, and Laura Zilbeti had selected Hope to take his place while it healed. Having done herself proud in three consecutive matches, she had then been chosen to play in the European Summer Cup. A particular highlight had been her quarter final performance against the Wimbourne Wasps, in which the three Aguilas chasers had achieved such a lead on points that it had been pointless for Wasps' seeker Eric Wrangler to catch the snitch. He had made a valiant effort, holding Nuria Penalba off again and again, hoping in vain that his own team would catch up. They had not been able to, and the victory had eventually been sealed by Aguilas.

Aguilas had been knocked out of the tournament in the following round, but Elijah Griffin, former captain and now coach of the Wimbourne Wasps, had contacted Hope ten days later.

The Wasps prided themselves on reliable, experienced players, and Hope had been stunned to receive the offer of a full time contract. Being in demand from a team who had not recruited anyone under the age of twenty-one in half a century was an honour, to say the least, but it had been a difficult decision nonetheless. Difficult because Hope was starting to find her place in Madrid with a view to the longer term. Difficult because Spain was fun, exciting and every day held a new adventure. Difficult because accepting Griffin's offer would mean giving up her new life and going back to a country where, once upon a time, her world had come tumbling down.

But that didn't mean it would fall apart again. She had felt at peace with herself even before starting at the Carlos Institute, and the fact remained that her family and closest friends were in Britain, the country that was still her home in a way that Spain could never be. She was missing them more as time went on, and her new friends, lovely as they were, could not entirely fill the gap inside her heart that came from not seeing her old friends on a regular basis.

Laura Zilbeti had been aghast to hear that she was considering moving to the arch rival quidditch team, but it was alright for Laura. Her family lived down the road, her grandparents up in Zaragoza, her old school friends in Madrid or Barcelona. She didn't have to worry about surges in cross border floo prices, or arranging an international apparition permit every time she wanted a catch up with her family. And it wasn't easy to fit in those visits around the intensive training regime that came with playing quidditch at professional level.

And so, at the end of August, days before her twentieth birthday, Hope had made her decision and accepted the contract with Wimbourne Wasps, on the agreement she could start training in September.

The thought of Michael being back in London may have swayed her choice as well... Although Hope was trying to pretend that wasn't true.

"...and that's about it, I think," she finished, having recapped her last few weeks in Spain to Roxanne. "You know the rest."

Roxanne narrowed her eyes. "And there haven't been any boys? Not one beautiful Spaniard since I last saw you."

"I told you, Damiano was bad enough. And yes, I know he was Italian. And yes, I'm sure most Italians are great and wouldn't cheat on me the morning after swearing that I was "the one". Hope mimed vomiting at the memory. "But he still put me off dating, to be honest."

"Ah, I don't blame you," Roxanne sighed, yawning. "I'm so much happier being single at the moment. I used to think that people just said that to save face, because I didn't mean it back at school when I said boys weren't worth it. But it could not be more accurate right now."

Hope merely nodded. She was happily unattached too, although occasionally the ache that represented missing Michael liked to materialise deep inside her. They had kept in touch for most of the year, him sending her postcards from many an exciting destination and she filling him in on her Spanish adventures in return. He had even visited in February. But over the summer she had been busy training for the cup, and he had been job hunting, and so their letters had died out not long after his return to England. Maybe he had a new girlfriend now.

"Any plans to see him?" Roxanne enquired. Hope didn't bother asking who she was talking about.

"Not right now. I need to catch up with family this week, then I have to buy my new quidditch stuff. I'll see him around, I'm sure."

O

Hopeful as she was to run into Michael, her priority was reuniting with family. Teddy was back home when she tried his door again that evening and, equally delighted about her unexpected early return, insisted on cooking dinner for her while they exchanged news. Victoire had recently been promoted to Assistant Head of Ward, which was keeping her busier than ever, but she was loving it. When Hope asked her brother about his own work, however, Teddy's face fell a little.

"Not much has changed since I last spoke to you, Dope," he sighed. "It's not looking great right now, for extending the range of the cure. And I know what you'll say." He held up a hand before she could reply. "What Dad says. And Mum and Vic. Everyone says it. The fact that there's a cure at all, when there wasn't a year ago, is incredible. And I did that. It is surreal, when I stop and think about it. But sometimes I can't help thinking about all the older werewolves, the ones that have known so much suffering... and I just... wish... "

He did not finish his sentence. He didn't need to.

"I know," Hope said softly. "And it's OK to feel like that. As long as you know that the progress you have made is incredible. And it will change so many lives for the good."

"I do. And I'm not giving up on the rest," Teddy added firmly. "There's one more ongoing experiment that I'll get the results from at the end of the year. And I'm holding out hope for that. Anyway," he pushed on, and Hope understood that for once he was not keen to go into details. No doubt he had been torturing himself with worries about his progress in recent weeks.

Instead, he reached behind him into a drawer to pull out an envelope, and Hope recognised the Quality Quidditch Supplies logo embossed on the corner of it. "This is for you. From me and Vic. Happy belated birthday and congratulations on your signing. I know you need some new gear."

"Teddy! I said-"

"I don't want to hear it, Dopey," he laughed, forcing the envelope into her hand. "I know you are notoriously bad at accepting gifts, but you're going to have to accept that sometimes we want to treat you. It comes under the whole 'we love you and we're proud of you' concept."

The words brought back an unexpected memory, of Micheal standing behind the bar at The Leaky Cauldron, telling her that she should come to Beth's party, refusing to accept her insistence that she wasn't really wanted.

"People do like you, Hope. I wish you'd stop thinking they don't."

The mental picture was so vivid she had to shake her head to clear it. Now was not the time to dwell on Michael. But she felt a lump form in her throat as she looked down at the gift, which somehow stood for a lot more than its monetary value.

"Thanks Teddy."

O

For all her protests, Teddy and Victoire's gift had increased her budget for new quidditch gear considerably, and Hope was laden down with more purchases than she had intended when she finally approached the check-out line in Quality Quidditch Supplies that weekend.

Beth Fitzpatrick, she noticed, was at the front of the queue, but did not see Hope as she grabbed her own bags and made for the door in her usual blur of activity. Hope watched her idly through the window, then froze. Michael was standing outside, talking to his Great Grandmother. Eagle eyed as ever, Augusta Longbottom looked no different from when Hope had seen her a year ago. And Michael appeared to be waiting for Beth, because she went right up to them, shoved the bag from Quality Quidditch Supplies into his hands, laughing, then turned to Augusta and kissed her on both cheeks. As if …

Whatever had dropped into Hope's stomach at the sight of Michael was now up in the back of her throat. She might be wrong. Beth and Michael were old friends. Best friends, he had often said. But they looked incredibly comfortable together and Augusta patted Beth's arm fondly before moving on her way. Michael turned to Beth with a brief eye roll and they both laughed again. He was still carrying her bags of purchases and Beth had made no move to take them back.

"Hey!" Hope started. She had reached the front of the queue and the cashier witch was glaring at her impatiently. "Are you buying those, or not?"

"Um. No," Hope muttered. "No… changed my mind. Sorry."

She shoved the pile of garments into the irritated witch's hands and hurried towards the door. If she turned sharply to the left on exiting the shop, then Beth and Michael probably wouldn't see her.

"Hope! Hey, Hope!"

An indefinite way to disguise yourself and you opt for turning sharply left?

Yes, thank you. I know I'm a moron.

"Hope! Hi! Wow. You're back!"

Rather to her surprise, Beth had thrown herself forward and hugged her.

"It's great to see you!" She exclaimed as she drew back. "You look amazing. And are the rumours true? You've been signed by the Wasps?"

Still guarded, Hope nodded. There was no apparent awkwardness in Beth's demeanour, but why should there be? She had only told Dom and Roxanne about Michael and she wasn't sure he had told anyone.

"Yes, I start training with them in a week."

Beth shook her head in mingled awe and disbelief. "Brilliant. Is James fuming?"

"Oh yes." Hope thought back to James's aghast face on hearing the news the previous week, although to give him his due he had followed this up with a congratulatory hug and insisted on taking her out to dinner to celebrate. "He thinks I've taken too many bludgers to the head, but I was hardly going to turn them down."

"I should think not!"

Beth glanced at her watch.

"Shit I'm late. I'll leave you to it." She turned to Michael, who was still holding her bags. "I'll see you at home, you don't mind taking those back, do you?"

Home. The lead weight had returned. Did they live together?

"And you are not to be late for our date tonight," Beth added. "No excuses." She glared meaningfully at him, and Hope had a distinct impression there had been a head tilt in her direction.

Michael reddened and that was all the confirmation Hope needed. He had definitely moved on. Beth, oblivious, had already hurried off down the street.

"It's lovely to see you." Michael turned back around and gave her an awkward hug, but she tensed and he let go quickly. "Amazing news about your signing."

"Thanks."

The silence stretched on between them for several painful seconds.

"You're living with Beth?" Hope said at last.

"Yeah." He still looked uncomfortable. "I was going a bit stir crazy at home back in June after so many months of travelling. Her parents were helping her move into her own place and it-"

"That's great." Hope smiled tightly and nodded as she cut over him. She didn't think she could bear to hear any more.

"It's down the road," Michael added. "One of those old muggle town houses behind The Leaky Cauldron. Cost them a fortune obviously, but it's pretty cool. If you want to see it."

Hope was unable to hide her double take this time. That Michael could be so casual about this, after everything they had been through together.

"I'm good, actually." His face fell at the obvious coldness to her voice.

"Hope, why don't we grab a drink and have a chat? It's not like-"

"I have to go."

She didn't need a pitying explanation on top of the humiliation currently coursing through her.

Leaving him standing outside the shop, she spun around and walked away, turned a corner of Diagon Alley before sitting down on an empty bench, breathing heavily. Come on, she told herself sternly. You're supposed to be collected and together these days. You can't go to pieces just because Michael has found someone else.

She still couldn't believe he had forgotten with such apparent ease. The hours they had spent together, talking long into the night, sharing secrets and truths. The more vulnerable side of her she wouldn't even had shown Dom and Roxanne. The kisses that shouldn't have happened but they hadn't been able to help. The tears as they had said goodbye. The two days spent together in Madrid when he had passed through Europe on his way to Asia. Nothing more had happened romantically, even then, but the feelings had been there. Undiminished. Obvious. Tangible. Almost painful.

They had made each other no promises, that was true. She had not seen him since February, and their recent loss of contact was undeniably her fault. Letter writing had never been her forte and she had been the one to let the replies fizzle out. But he had known where to reach her with important news. Didn't she deserve a warning that he was now coupled up with their old classmate, living cosily in a fancy town house in London? Out of courtesy.

After several minutes of brooding, pretending to scroll through her Wiznote, Hope took a deep breath and raised her head, jaw set. She had spent an entire year making good, sensible decisions, doing what was best for her. Michael was a lifelong, family friend, and nothing was going to change that. She would have to be happy for him. Beth was great, she reminded herself. Beth was the reason she had taken up quidditch again - she may not be playing for the Wasps if it weren't for Beth. Beth was fun, friendly and full of energy. Beth was... walking down the street right in front of her, as it happened. Hope blinked and looked again. Another girl had an arm around her shoulders, and Hope watched them curiously as she whispered something in Beth's ear. Now they looked like a couple.

A shadow fell across her and she looked up in the other direction to see that Michael was standing over her. He was watching Beth and the mystery girl's retreating backs, an odd expression on his face.

"Maybe now you'll let me talk?" He sat down on the bench next to her, and she avoided his gaze but stayed put. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her that she may, possibly, have got the wrong end of the stick.

"You thought Beth and I were together."

It was a statement rather than a question but Hope tried to deny it all the same.

"No I didn't.'

"No?" Michael's lip was twitching and she could tell he was deeply amused by the whole situation. "Not even a little bit?"

"Well, you are carrying her stuff." Hope reddened as the words left her mouth, realising how childish she sounded.

"Yes," he said mildly, looking down at the bag of packages in his hands. "Yes, she does tend to treat me like a packhorse if we're ever shopping together."

"And she was friendly with your Great Gran."

That also sounded ridiculous.

"Gran likes most of my friends," Michael replied, his tone of voice unchanged. "None more so than you, as it happens. But she's very fond of Beth too, especially since she started working in her old department at the Ministry. Beth finally got a job. It was her parents' condition on them helping her move into her own place."

"See! And you're living with her."

"And with her sister, Ellie. And we all have separate bedrooms. Like when you lived with Dom and Roxanne. They loved the house but wanted a third lodger, and I got back from traveling at the right time."

Oh.

"You didn't tell me that part," Hope said in a small voice.

"I was trying to when you stormed away." She knew he was still fighting down a laugh.

"And then she said you were going on a date tonight," Hope finished.

"OK," Michael conceded. "I will give you that one. But it's not how it sounded."

"So…" Embarrassed as she was, Hope had to be sure. "So you're not with Beth? Really not?"

"Absolutely not. We'd be ready to kill each other within a week, even if she was interested in guys. Which she isn't. She's known that since she was twelve. And I've known that since we were fourteen."

She met his gaze at last. His intense brown eyes still caused that plunging sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"You could have started with that."

"I could have done," he acknowledged. "But how was I to know you would care either way? For all I know you have a Spanish quidditch model for a boyfriend these days. Or can I take it from this reaction that you don't?" The amusement was still there, but Hope could hear the serious undertone. The question he wanted to know above all.

"No. No boys,' Hope confirmed. Michael didn't need to know about Damiano the Disgusting quite yet. "Rox is very disappointed in me."

She saw the light flare in his face, mirroring her own optimism that the time may now be right for them. Hoping, yet not daring to believe. Not yet.

"I meant it about the drink. If you like?"

"Or maybe – " Hope fiddled with her thumbnail. "Maybe I could come and see where you live?"

His eyes widened in polite astonishment.

"Oh, you want to see our house now, do you? I wonder what brought on that change of heart."

She rolled her eyes and looked away again, but his face had already sobered. "I'm not here to play games with you." He shifted closer on the bench and Hope couldn't help but lean her head against his shoulder. "I've missed you, Hope. It wasn't possible not to miss you. And... going out on a limb, I get the feeling you missed me too."

She swivelled round to hug him properly, part of her feeling idiotic for her necessary overreaction, the other part of her knowing that it didn't matter, that it would be an event they would look back on and laugh about together, as they did for everything else.

"I did," she said into his shoulder. "A lot."

"Then how about we get a drink and I show you where I live, and then we'll have a talk?"

He stood up and pulled her to her feet, even as Hope wondered wildly if it could really be that simple. She thought of Adam, of Cadmus, of Damiano. Boys who had messed her around and pulled her backwards and forwards and driven her to the brink of insanity. She hadn't lost any sleep over Damiano, thankfully, but even so. After all that, was working it out with Michael going to be as easy as a drink and a chat?

"What are you doing now, anyway?" Hope asked, once they had purchased some milkshakes to take away and were making their way to the end of Diagon Alley. Michael had insisted on buying the drinks and Hope had let him, under the hopeful assumption there would be plenty of opportunities to return the favour.

"Have you heard of the Moonstone Project?"

Hope racked her brains. The name rang no bells.

"No."

"It's very new," Michael assured her. "Although there has been pressure on the Ministry to set up an initiative like this for years, it's only just been approved. It's essentially to provide education for magical children before they start Hogwarts, and it will be trialled next year. So that young witches and wizards get a basic education in reading and writing, as well as a chance to socialise before proper school. And I got a job as one of the coordinators. At the moment it's all admin stuff but from January I'll get to run some of the sessions with the kids."

Now Hope came to think of it, the lack of pre-Hogwarts education and socialisation did represent a cavernous gap in Wizarding society. And her face lit up at the thought of Michael teaching five-year-olds.

"That's the perfect job for you."

"It's good fun," he confirmed. "Although ask me in six months when I'm dealing with squealing kids all day, and I might be eating my words."

"You'll love it even more at that point."

He grinned and made no attempt to deny this.

They had reached The Leaky Cauldron, jam packed as always, and Michael steered her through the crowds. It was an odd moment for Hope, seeing the barman and reflecting on how far she had come since she had been standing in that position herself. It was even stranger to see that Hannah was nowhere in sight.

"Mum's taken the weekend off to visit Dad," Michael said, seeing her questioning look. "Finally relinquished some control. It helps that she found a permanent barman she trusts!"

"Good for her." Hope was pleased to hear this. There had always been the lingering worry that Hannah would run herself into the ground once she and Michael had gone their separate ways.

"Here we are."

He hadn't been exaggerating to say the house was behind the Leaky Cauldron, and they had already reached the front door, which Michael unlocked before standing aside to let Hope through into the entrance vestibule. A handmade sign done in wax crayon hung on the second door, and read Beff and Ellee and MiKalz Howse. Next to the uneven letters were three stick people with round faces and colourful scribbles of hair.

"Nice sign," Hope snorted. "Spelling's gone downhill since we did our NEWTs, I see."

"Grace Finch-Fletchley made it for us. She'll be one of the kids trialling the Moonstone project, actually. Some spelling lessons definitely wouldn't go amiss."

"Aw, bless her." Hope thought of little Grace, in her blue princess dress, chattering away about her films. Talking about South America. The day she had first realised she liked Michael. And now, finally, over a year later…

There were still no guarantees this was going to work out, she tried to tell herself. Just because Michael wasn't with Beth and said he had missed her didn't automatically mean he wanted to be in a relationship with her.

"Ellie was at Beth's party last year," she said, to avoid dwelling on this disconcerting thought, and following him through into the kitchen. "I didn't recognise her. Was she at school with us?"

"No," Michael said. "She's a year younger, but she's not a witch. She's at university in London now. One of the reasons they bought in a muggle street, even though buying a wizarding house would have been ten times cheaper. Ellie can still get into Diagon Alley, because she knows us, but it would be awkward for her address wise if we lived somewhere other muggles couldn't access."

"Isn't it weird for her anyway? Living with wizards?"

"A little, I think," Michael said. "She's always found it difficult being the non-magical one. But she and Beth are very close and there are compensations. Magical breakfast cereal. Diagon Alley on the doorstep. She and James have been spending a fair amount of time together recently..."

"James Potter?" Hope said, eyebrows raised. "I hope she knows what she's in for."

"He's matured a lot, you know," Michael told her. "Seems to really like her. And Beth has threatened to murder him if he messes her around. I think she'll be OK."

"That's what Roxanne said when she heard about Cadmus." Hope's face fell. She didn't want to talk about Cadmus right now. Why had she brought him up? She looked round the kitchen instead. It was a beautiful room, with painted wooden cupboards and an island in the middle surrounded by soft backed high stools. She sat down on one of them while Michael went to put Beth's bags in her room, still trying not to get her hopes up.

"What is your date tonight?" she asked, when Michael had re-emerged. "If it's not an actual date?"

He laughed.

"Remember her bet with Swash last year? Beth was fuming. And she didn't want to pay up, said no way was it a date, just two friends having dinner, no feelings involved at all. I said that didn't matter, that could easily be a date, and I made her give Swash the fifty galleons. So every time I go for food or a drink with Beth, she calls it a date. It's habit now. It wouldn't have crossed her mind you might take it seriously - the idea of going out with me would be ludicrous to her."

"She jerked her head towards me when she said it though. I'm sure she did."

Michael looked shifty again.

"Beth wanted to set me up. Only a couple of weeks ago," he admitted. "With someone from her work. I said no and she wouldn't stop pestering me. So in the end I told her about us. And she was far too excited and I told her if she wasn't subtle about it then I'd physically wipe the conversation from her memory. I guess earlier was her 'subtle' way of reminding me that I couldn't bail on our plans just because you were back in the country."

Only one word of this speech registered properly in Hope's mind.

Us.

"What did you tell her? About us?"

"The truth." He shrugged. "What happened before we left. How I felt. Still feel. How I was kind of hoping that - maybe, now you were back - you'd feel the same way."

She had got to her feet again without any conscious decision to do so, and he was much closer, reaching out to play with a strand of her hair.

"You put your hair back to red."

"It's for quidditch," she said. "I think it makes me more aggressive. I do it for me, though. Like you said I should. Not for anyone else."

Their hands were touching.

"What now?"

She had asked the question a year ago, and they had decided to stay as they were. As they always had been.

But as they were and as they always had been had become two entirely separate things.

"Well, I'm busy tonight," he said. "As you know. I'm free tomorrow. We could go for dinner?"

She grinned.

"Like a date?"

"Yes."

"So." She traced a finger over the lines of his palm, not looking at him. "A date would be… just... two friends… having dinner..." She raised her head. "No feelings involved at all?"

He was kissing her as the last word left her mouth. And it was all she had wanted and all she had expected but somehow more, and the weight of the decision they had made a year ago, the doubts that it had been a mistake, fell away. Going their separate ways had been the right choice then and reuniting was the right choice now. And what had been special was still special. All the more so after the time spent apart.

After a long while, he drew back, one hand still in her hair. It was dark brown again, soft and shiny but unmistakably her natural colour. Completely herself. The only way she wanted to be with Michael. The only way she could be, because he knew her too well for her to pretend otherwise.

"No feelings at all." His mouth twisted ruefully as he came closer again. "I guess… maybe… I owe Beth a refund…"

oOo

---

October

A month later, Hope had to concede that it was, in fact, that simple. Nothing was complicated with Michael. If he wanted to see her, he told her. If he was too busy, he said so. If she was too tired after training to do anything but go home, eat and go to bed, he didn't object. He accepted that she preferred to sleep in her own room at her parents' house for the time being. He didn't get angry, was never unkind, and on the rare occasions he had a bad day or was feeling off, he told her why.

Hope hadn't yet told anyone they were together, although Dom and Roxanne had been making pointed comments for days now and Hope had a feeling Hannah knew fine well. As for her own family...

"It's not that I'm worried about their reaction," she told Michael one evening, after he had asked who knew. "I mean, it's the complete opposite of when I was with Cadmus. They'll be so happy and excited. But I didn't want there to be extra pressure. I do want them to know," she added hastily. "And we should tell them before Fred and Ali's wedding. I don't want to have to pretend we're not together at that."

Fred and Alison were to be married on Halloween weekend, and the ceremony and reception were going to be enormous, with almost two hundred guests. Even the younger Weasleys had been given permission to attend and would be escorted there from Hogwarts by fellow attendees Neville and Oliver Wood. According to Roxanne, Fred was less enthusiastic than Ali about the extensive guest list, and Hope couldn't blame him. How one was supposed to enjoy their wedding day with that many people demanding attention was beyond her. The upside, however, was that all their friends and family would be there, and Hope was looking forward to it, all the more so knowing that she and Michael could attend together.

Michael agreed with this, then glanced at his watch.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing," Hope said. 'Griffin's going through the final line up and plan for the season, to be discussed in our team chat on Friday, so tomorrow's a rest day. Feels a bit weird, actually, after five solid weeks of exercise."

"I'm not working until eleven. If you want to stay over."

Casual as his tone was, Hope's throat was suddenly very dry as she tried to swallow. The question wasn't unexpected, after a month of seeing each other nearly every day, but possible excuses streamed through her brain in an instant.

"There's no pressure to do anything except sleep," he said. 'Actually, you don't even have to sleep, although I would advise it. I've told you, if you're not ready-"

"It's not that, exactly."

She chewed her lip, unsure how to explain. It was the one thing they had never talked about, the subject she had always purposefully avoided. He knew she had been pregnant at eighteen. Therefore knew she was not a virgin. The rest she had kept quiet about.

"I've never slept with someone I was in a relationship with," she said at last. "It's always been random people."

"Alright," he said calmly. "That makes two of us, then."

Hope paused, wrong-footed. She had always assumed... but maybe he hadn't been ready at school, or maybe Esme hadn't been. Michael never would have tried to force her, unlike someone who sprung to mind.

"Neither of us ever wanted to take it further," he replied to her unasked question. "And I'm glad we didn't now, given how we worked out in the end. I've told you about the girl I went out with in Bolivia, and then in New Zealand. They were the only two."

Which meant she had been with more people than he had. But amount of experience wasn't the issue here.

"I've never enjoyed it." The words came out in a rush. "Sex. Not even a little bit. I didn't actively hate it," she added, pondering this. "And it didn't hurt. Maybe because I'm a metamorphmagus. But I've never understood what all the fuss was about. And - And I'm scared," she finished. 'It wasn't the best people, before now, and it didn't matter when it was them, but this is you, and I - I-"

He seemed to understand, coming over and sitting down on the chair she had vacated while she leant against the wall, agitated, unable to articulate the full extent of what was going through her mind.

"Hope, sex is always built up to be this big Thing. Fireworks and intensity and earth moving and all that. But a lot of the time, it's not like that in real life. Sometimes it is amazing. Other times it's more about the moment. Or the person you're with. Often it's messy, or painful, and other times it's... not much to write home about, I suppose."

"You know a lot for someone who says they haven't done it much."

"Hmm, Beth likes to share. Overshare, some might say, but I'm not one to judge."

She returned his grin with reluctance, the worries lingering.

"But you liked it," she persisted. "When you did do it."

"Yes," he conceded slowly. "I suppose you could say that."

Her voice rose in distress again.

"So - so what if I don't? What if - What if I can never enjoy it. Some people don't. Do they? Ever. And that's fine, but - But if you-"

"Right. You need to understand something." Michael stood up again, grasped her shoulders and looking her directly in the eye. "You're not getting rid of me this easily, I'm afraid. I want to be with you for you. Not because of how you look. Not for sex. For you. And if you don't enjoy it… then we'll do something else."

Hope knew the disbelief was showing on her face.

"I mean that," Michael said. "I'm not pretending it would always be easy if you never wanted to have sex, but we'd figure it out. Find something we both like. Sky's the limit, right?"

"Is this an if I don't try, I won't know?" Hope mused.

He considered this.

"Not necessarily. Although I do say that a lot."

"Yeah. You said that when I wasn't sure about going back to quidditch."

"So I did! And look at you now - Wimbourne Wasps' youngest recruit since Florence Melling." He kissed her on the nose. "But some people do know they don't want sex without trying it, no matter who it's with."

Hope wasn't so sure this applied to her. For all her reservations, she definitely wanted to kiss him, to feel the usual sensations spread through her chest and her stomach, as they always did when she was pressed up against him. He had drawn back as though waiting for an answer, but she pulled him towards her again, smiling as his hands came to rest on her waist. She relaxed as his fingers grazed against the hips then, cautiously, softly, found the bare skin under her t-shirt. They paused, questioning, and she nodded and allowed him to peel it off over her head.

Then she looked to her left. Dot was eyeing her suspiciously, turquoise fur bristling.

"Maybe Dot should go in a different room," she said.

O

Head on Michael's chest, the soft beat of his heart thudding in her own ears, Hope pressed her face to his chin, comforted by the feel of stubble against her forehead. Her worries had melted away. It was almost funny now, to think she had lain awake for hours over the past weeks, wondering how long she could get away with postponing the inevitable progression of the relationship, thinking up excuse after bizarre excuse. Because now it had happened, undignified to the point of hysterical at times and breathtakingly intimate at others, she wasn't sure what she had been afraid of. The mechanics of sex didn't seem very important in that moment. The fact that there was currently someone in this world she trusted with every inch of her body and mind, someone who was holding her in his arms as if he never wanted to let her go, was more meaningful to her by far.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Michael said, when she eventually sat up, shivering, and summoned the t-shirt that had been discarded a long while before.

About to pull it on, she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes, I can make them bigger. No, I'm not going to."

"No," he said patiently, turning to lie on his side so that he was facing her and propping his head up with one hand. "Not that. As if I'd dare. I haven't forgotten your face that day James told you teenage boys only liked you because you could morph." He grinned. "No. I wondered..."

He appeared uncomfortable, and Hope knew a moment of panic. Maybe he was going to tell her she had done it all wrong, or ask if she had any wild, sexual fantasies. She had none.

"Who did you sleep with?"

"Oh." Hope breathed an internal sigh of relief as she pulled the t-shirt over her head. "Damiano and his greasy hair back in April, for one."

She knew that wasn't what he had meant. And he hesitated again, unwilling to probe, but it was a question he would have answered, had the roles been reversed.

"You mean at school."

"Well, I know you were pregnant, that summer. I always assumed it was Cadmus, but apparently not. Or did you mean it happened after you broke up?"

"No," Hope sighed, slumping down on the pillows. "No, I refused Cadmus for a year and a half. And believe me he tried his best to change my mind. But I stood firm all the way. Then after we broke up, I spent the last month of term giving in to... whoever tried it on."

She turned to face him as well, exhausted but willing to explain, finally wanting him to know what she had never been able to tell him before.

"There were three times. I never knew which one I got pregnant from, and I never want to find out, but most likely - based on dates - it was Tim McLaggen. My first time was with him, after Ravenclaw won the six year record. Then there was Andrew Garswitch at the solstice night. He was upset about breaking up with Natalie and I was way too drunk to have any sense of judgment. And Isaak Tolaris." She shuddered, remembering his groping hands. 'Last day of term. That was the biggest mistake of all. I've always wondered if Cadmus ever found out. Yup," she added as Michael tried and failed to hide his expression of distaste. "I did tell you it wasn't the best selection of people."

"That is a pitiful selection," he agreed. "If I'd known the bar was set that low, I wouldn't have been so nervous."

"But you weren't nervous," she protested.

"Oh no, I was,' he assured her. "Very nervous."

He kissed her forehead and pulled her close, and sleep began to close in on her instantly. She barely heard his next words.

'Not so much anymore."

O

Hope woke up on the dot of six, mouth dry from thirst but the warm glow still flaring inside her. Michael was fast asleep and Hope tucked the covers back around him before padding down to the kitchen in his slippers to get a glass of water.

Dot, having made friends with Ellie's pet gerbils overnight, seemed to have forgiven Hope for rudely turfing her out of the room the day before and came shuffling over to greet her. Hope sat down at the table and stroked her, replaying the night's events. She still had a feeling she was never going to enjoy sex as much as some people appeared to, yet somehow it didn't matter anymore. And maybe she was wrong. Maybe the fireworks would come along eventually, surprising her when she least expected, just as the relationship itself had done.

"Well, well, well." She turned to see James Potter standing there in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, leaning on the doorframe with his arms folded. "Look what the pygmy puff dragged in."

Hope eyed his state of undress and rumpled hair.

"You're one to talk."

"What's your excuse then?"

Hope didn't bother to morph away the blush and he smirked.

"So come on, which unsuspecting inhabitant of this house is the lucky one?" And, when she raised her eyebrows, he said in a dignified tone:

"One should never assume. Although I'm pretty sure Beth didn't come home last night, and you definitely weren't in the room with me and Ellie. We didn't do much sleeping. That would only leave one culprit, wouldn't it?"

Hope merely took a sip of her water, trying to look nonchalant. James failed in his attempt to get Ellie's electric coffee machine to work and conjured up a mug with a flick of his wand instead.

"Good for you, mate," he said sincerely, sitting down at the table too. "He's one of the best. You both are."

"You've changed your tune. I thought I was a traitor."

"You are a traitor when it comes to quidditch. But you have at least developed good taste in boyfriends. About bloody time too."

Hope ignored the jibe about her exes. It was probably deserved.

"Michael's not my-"

She stopped herself. There was no point pretending otherwise. They may not have put a label on it, but here they were. It wasn't a fling. She wasn't getting rid of him that easily, he had said last night. She wasn't planning on walking away.

The smugness had returned to James's face.

"How's all the training going?"

"You don't want to know."

"'Course I do,' he retorted. "You know I'm joking when I go on about the Wasps. You've done insanely well to get there, and I'll be at all your matches. Cheering you on like the rest of the family."

"I might not even play,' she reminded him. "They announce the starting line up tomorrow and I've only been training with them for a month. I might be a reserve all season. Or play so badly that they bench me after game one."

"Highly doubt it," James said. "And if you do, I'll be there next season instead. Mind you," he added, taking another sip of coffee. "I'm only holding that black and yellow flag if you're actually up in the air. And I'm afraid that if you get drawn against Aguilas this season, you'll be a supporter down for that match no matter how well you play."

O

"You know," Michael said, later that morning, once Ellie had departed for a lecture, James to work, and they were savouring a leisurely breakfast. "Some people thought you and James would end up together. Back at school."

Hope nearly choked on her orange juice.

"You didn't?"

"I didn't," he confirmed. "But some of our classmates did. You always got on well. He was protective of you. Then you dated one of his mates, but it didn't work out. Some saw a spark, I guess."

"Gross,' Hope muttered, but she was laughing. "Nah, I don't mean that. James is great and I can see why Ellie likes him. I do love him. A lot. But as a brother, obviously not the way I love you."

She stiffened, aware of what she had said.

"Shit. Forget I said that," she muttered. The three words that had been forced out so many times during the months spent with Cadmus had slipped forth without decision or endeavour. But it was far too soon to be saying them. They had only slept together for the first time the night before.

Michael hadn't moved either.

"I don't want to forget you said it,' he murmured at last. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it!" Hope couldn't believe he needed to ask that. "But - but it's soon, isn't it? Too soon to be saying it. I mean, officially we've only been going out a month. I haven't even told most of my family we're together. Although I should do that. I'll do that this weekend. They'll find out anyway now the biggest mouth in the family knows."

Michael patiently let her rambles tail off before speaking again.

"As far as I know there's no rule on how quickly or slowly you have to fall in love with someone."

"I know that! I-"

She wasn't sure what else to say, because Michael was right. What was the point in hiding the extent of the emotions that had been obvious for months now? Michael reached out and took her hand across the table.

"You asked me last year," he said. "When I told you about Esme. You asked if I knew the difference now between loving someone and being in love. Because I didn't. Before."

"Yes." Hope nodded. "I remember that."

His eyes were glowing as they met hers.

"I think I knew last year. But I definitely know now. I love you, Hope. Very much in love. With you."

O

If Hope had thought the week could not get any better, she would have been wrong, and on Friday evening she came out of her team meeting fizzing with excitement, still certain she was dreaming. She was so distracted that she misjudged her apparition and ended up three miles north of her parents' house, in a cluster of trees, and to add insult to injury tripped on a trailing branch while trying to get her bearings.

It hurt. A lot.

Which meant she wasn't dreaming.

Hope had already messaged Michael to tell him the news, because he had requested she do so, and also James to gloat that he would need to stock up on black and yellow flags. But it was her parents' reactions she wanted to see. They were the ones she wanted to tell first, in person.

Teddy and Victoire turned out to be home for the evening too and once seated at the dinner table, Hope told them her good news. That she had been selected to start the season with the Wimbourne Wasps, and would be flying out onto the home pitch in a matter of weeks for their first match. Her family's reactions did not disappoint.

"When's your first game?" Victoire asked, when the jubilant hubbub had finally died down.

"Sixth of November. Against the Cannons."

Vic laughed. "Uncle Ron will have a dilemma there."

Hope had no doubt that Ron's attitude would be much the same as James's: full support unless his own team's place in the league was at stake.

"I've accepted that every match I play, someone in the family will be betting against me," she said with a cheerful shrug. "Makes it more interesting."

Thankfully Michael did not support any particular quidditch team and never had, so she was at least guaranteed unwavering solidarity from him.

From her boyfriend.

Which brought her to her second piece of news.

"Also-" She took a deep breath.

"Yes?"

"I wondered if I could bring someone round to dinner," she blurted out. "On Sunday."

"Of course," Tonks said.

"Like a boyfriend someone?" Teddy asked the question she knew was on the others' minds.

"Maybe."

"Are we allowed to know more?"

Hope dropped all pretence.

"It's Michael," she said. "Longbottom. We've been together for a month now. And it's... yeah, it's going well."

As she had expected, this pronouncement was met with renewed expressions of delight and joyful exclamations. Victoire's eyes even welled up again. Hope had no idea what was with her today. She wasn't normally this emotional. Tonks, meanwhile, had enveloped her daughter in her fourth hug of the evening. "How wonderful," she said, her voice thick. "Of course he can come to dinner. Whenever he likes. That's fantastic news."

"You won't be uncool, will you?" Hope added, pulling away and looking sternly between her mother and father. "No talk of the future or embarrassing lectures or anything like that."

"Embarrassing lectures?" Remus repeated, with considerable indignation. "When would I ever?"

"What a day!" Tonks said. "Calls for champagne, I think. Oh wait -" She turned to Teddy, who was sharing a private smile with Victoire. "Didn't you have news as well?"

"Nothing major," Teddy said, without missing a beat. "Just an update on my experiment. Only six weeks left and then we'll get the final results. To find out how far back we can extend the cure. It's all on track for the time being."

Tonks had summoned a bottle from the shelf and was pouring it out. "Well, to that," she said, lifting the glass. "And most of all to Hope's upcoming game. And to her having a wonderful boyfriend. Who can come round to dinner whenever he wants."

"And you thought they would be embarrassing," Teddy laughed to Hope. She smiled vaguely in return, but her eyes were suddenly on Victoire, who had simply raised her glass to her lips, not, as far as she could see, drunk any champagne at all.

"That wasn't your news." She ambushed Teddy once dinner was over and he was hunting for chocolate in the kitchen. "You give us an update on the experiment every time you see us, you wouldn't call it news. And I saw you vanish Vic's champagne when you thought no one was watching."

There was no instant reply. Teddy continued to hunt for chocolate and turned around only when he had found it, but Hope knew from the barely concealed excitement in his face that her suspicions were correct.

"OK." He broke off several slabs from the bar in his hands. "You're right. That wasn't our news." He glanced towards the door to check they were still alone. "It looks like you'll be an aunt. In April. Vic's pregnant."

"Oh! Teddy!" Emotional herself now, she threw her arms around his waist. "I knew it. That's amazing. Why didn't you say at dinner? I wouldn't have cared. That's a bigger deal than my quidditch match. Or being with Michael."

"No it isn't," he countered. "Your life is as important as mine. And too often, it ends up being about me. My work, and me and Victoire, and the house, and my work again. Tonight was about celebrating you. Only you."

"But didn't Victoire mind?"

"Absolutely not. Only Bill and Fleur know for now and we'll tell our parents on Sunday, when Gran's over. And," he raised an eyebrow at her pointedly. "It seems we now have another important person to tell as well."

O

"If it's a girl, will you call her Nymphadora?"

Hope was lying on the floor with her legs propped up at a right angle against the wall. Ginny had recommended the exercise to help with the restless legs she often experienced after intensive training sessions, although she wasn't convinced. The only current outcome was the sensation of pins and needles in her toes. Michael, seated in the armchair above her and sipping the glass of whisky Remus had pressed on him, snorted a little at the question, while Tonks looked murderous.

Victoire was curled up with her head against Teddy's shoulder, pale and tired looking due to her recent, and frequent, bouts of nausea, but she grinned nevertheless.

"You know, Hope, we may well do," she said seriously. "We feel it's very important to carry on our family tradition of naming children after their parents."

"Now Victoire, my darling," Tonks warned. "I must tell you that while Remus and I could not have wished for a better daughter-in-law and consider ourselves most blessed to have you in our family... If you name your daughter Nymphadora, I will have to report you for child abuse."

From her corner, Andromeda sighed at her daughter's habitual blunt hatred of the name she had picked out with such care and Tonks threw her an unapologetic grimace.

"Sorry Mum, but I'll say it for the ten millionth time. You could not have picked a worse name for your only daughter."

"One of the girls who has been signed up to the Moonstone project is called Cashew," Michael chipped in. "I reckon that would be worse than Nymphadora."

"Cashew? That's... nuts." Remus's lips twitched as his feeble pun was met with groans from his son, wife and daughter, but Michael chuckled anyway.

"I enjoyed that," he admitted, taking another sip of his drink.

"You don't have to be polite," Hope told him, still from her upside-down position on the floor. "Dad's jokes are terrible."

"True," he said. "That's the beauty of them. Mine are too."

"I like some of yours. Tell us that one you told me the other day. The one where there is no punch line? That was a good one."

"Except you've kind of just given away the whole joke."

"Oh."

There was laughter all around, and the light-hearted chatter continued into the evening, until Victoire was feeling too tired and unwell to continue, and Michael decided it was time for him to head home as well. He thanked Tonks and Remus profusely for a lovely evening, and they, naturally, insisted that he was welcome any time.

Andromeda was beaming as Hope shut the door behind him and came back through to the living room.

"He's a fine young man," she said to Hope, patting her on the wrist as she perched on the arm of her chair. "And you seem very happy together."

"We are," Hope said simply. "Thanks Gran."

There was no mistaking the elation in her mother's expression either.

"You approve of this one, do you? I'm joking!" Hope added quickly, as both her mother and father exchanged a guilty look. "I'm only joking. I know I never let you meet Cadmus, and he was a bit messed up anyway." That was putting it mildly, but Hope had never been able to tell her parents the full extent of Cadmus's behaviour. The cruelty. The abuse. She was as recovered as she could be and, occasionally, parents didn't need to hear the full story.

She did still think about Cadmus on occasion. She knew he was currently living up in Newcastle, and her friends appeared to have reached an agreement never to mention him again in her presence, which suited her. Yet it would have been a lie to say that she didn't wonder where his life had led him, and if he had changed at all in the years since their last encounter.

O

The answer to this question came unexpectedly soon, when Hope found herself sitting next to Morella for a while in between dances at Fred and Alison's wedding, and she happened to mention her brother in passing. Hope took the opportunity to ask after him, and Morella was characteristically blunt in her response.

"He's the same as ever," she said, taking a large gulp of wine. "Still a fucking arsehole, Hope. There's no point pretending otherwise."

Saddened to hear this but unsurprised, Hope swallowed and nodded.

"I do love him," Morella added, her voice softening. "He's my brother, and I think I'm the only person in the world he has any respect for, and I wish I could help him. But he's past the age where I can sort out his problems for him and there's nothing I can do until he wants to help himself."

Hope chewed her lip, staring down at her drink.

"Don't you dare feel guilty," Morella said sternly, reading her expression. "For any of it. So we know the truth now. So he didn't have an easy life and it was fucked up from the moment he was born. So our parents are in jail. Shit happens. You suck it up and you go with it. You don't force other people to deal with your rubbish on top of their own."

Hope knew only too well that life wasn't always that easy, but maybe this was Morella's own way of coping. Tough as she was, the events of the year before must have affected her deep down.

Lucy Weasley passed by the table at this point and Hope, grateful for the distraction, waved her over. Outwardly angelic as ever, Lucy nevertheless had a mischievous gleam in her eye as she sat down and hugged Hope round the waist. She and Molly still idolised Hope.

"Hello little one." She returned the hug. "Do you know Morella? Lucy is the youngest of our Weasley generation," Hope told her. "And the only one other than Roxanne to be sorted into to Slytherin."

"Finally!" Morella beamed. "I've heard so much about you. How are you finding it?"

From what Hope had heard from Lily, Lucy was having a fine time causing trouble now she was in her second year at school. After a first year of being a model pupil, it seemed she had now dispensed with such nonsensical etiquette and was pushing all the boundaries she could find, playing truant, sneaking out at night, and pranking all and sundry. Hope felt reasonably confident that Lucy still held her in high enough esteem not to attempt a trick on her. Yet. A time for that would no doubt come eventually, probably all the quicker now that Morella had made her acquaintance.

After a while, Hope left the two of them chatting and went to congratulate Fred, who was speaking to Charlie in the corner. He had been running around all day but looked pleased to see her coming over.

"Congratulations Fred."

"Thank you," he said. "I hear I should be saying the same to you. I like to think I might have helped? All those training sessions when you were tiny."

She assured him that was very much the case.

"Fred!"

Yet another guest was requesting the groom's attention, and Fred sighed at the call.

"We definitely should have had a holiday wedding," he said, but he was smiling to show he was joking, and grasped Hope's shoulder before moving on. "Sorry Hope, I'll catch up with you properly another time. Good luck next week. We won't make your first game, but we'll try and get to some of the others."

"Are you excited?" Charlie asked, turning to Hope as Fred hurried off to speak to Alison's uncle.

"Yes. Nervous though."

"Ah that's normal," Charlie said. "You'll smash 'em, I have no doubt. And in the New Year, England will be recruiting their world cup squad for the summer, remember."

The idea was so ludicrous that Hope snorted out loud. "No chance of that."

"It would be a big ask in your first full season, but it's not impossible."

"People say you could have played for England," Hope reminded him, and Charlie let out a bark of laughter.

"That is bollocks," he said. "You can blame Wood for those rumours." He jerked his head towards his former school teammate, who was talking animatedly about broom speeds to Ron and Alicia in the corner. "I was faster than average and made a few impressive catches when I was at school. Doesn't mean anything. I barely even played my last two years, I was too busy on my placements abroad. It takes more than talent to make a quidditch player even if you love the game. It takes work. Serious, hard, gruelling work. And you have to enjoy the work too, in all moods and all weathers. I couldn't be arsed with that. Being out in the howling winds and rain was only worth it for dragons, for me."

Hope glanced down at her hands. It was taking a daily dose of blister balm to stop her skin from flaking off. There were sores on the insides of her thighs and her skin was itchy every day from coming in and out of the cold. Her arms were also permanently bruised from bludgers. But she did love the work. There was no beating that feeling of satisfaction when the labour played off and she mastered a tricky move or complicated play.

"Ginny could have made the England squad," Charlie added, gazing fondly over at the dance floor, where his sister was waltzing with Harry. "They were very interested in her at one point. But James was on the way and family was more important to her. It's even tougher playing internationally. Moving around. Being away from home all the time."

Hope understood that feeling only too well. And she wasn't sure that life was meant for her. Charlie was now waving to Dom, who was approaching and looking exhausted, and Hope regarded her curiously as she slumped down on a chair next to them.

"Alright?"

"I've escaped the most awkward conversation!" she said. "Rosie and I were talking over there, about Vic and the baby. And Alison's nosey cousin butted in and said it was about time Ali and Fred got married, because she should be thinking about kids soon too."

Hope gaped at her, but she couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face. "Oh my god, I wish I'd been there to watch Rosie's reaction."

"She's still ranting," Dom confirmed. "But seriously, how inappropriate is that?"

"It is very inappropriate," Hope agreed. She couldn't fathom how people thought it was OK to bring up the subject with such familiarity. Maybe those in question didn't want children at all. Maybe they desperately wanted them and couldn't have them. Maybe they had suffered painful losses. She thought of her mother. Then of Marietta Edgecombe, who she sometimes wondered about but had no news of.

"You want to watch out," she told Dom. "You're the next oldest after Fred. People will be saying it to you soon."

Her friend raised her eyebrows.

"The comments made to me regarding children are even less appropriate."

Next to her, Hope noticed Charlie's mouth twist in sympathy - empathy - and she winced. Dom was so happy and secure in herself now, particularly in the safety of their family bubble, that Hope often forgot she still received unkind remarks and prejudiced comments. All the time. So did Charlie and Alex, living in a country where their relationship bordered on illegal. Albus too, despite his new lack of regard for what others thought of him, and Scorpius, who hadn't spoken to his grandfather since coming out and was still maintaining a civil but guarded relationship with his father. There was a long way to go for them in a battle that Hope would always help them fight but would never understand on a personal level.

"Sorry," she murmured, but Dom was already waving away the apology and Hope knew her friend's comment had not been said to induce guilt, merely to state the fact as it was.

"I hear there are big changes on the horizon for you?" Charlie said to his niece, steering them swiftly past any potential awkwardness.

"Yes! Morella's found a flat she likes. Roxanne is moving home to save for her own place. And I'll be living with Cal from January. Lot's going on."

At this point, Michael appeared from the bathrooms, looking highly put out, and made a beeline for their table.

"What's up?" Hope enquired, startled by his indignant expression.

"I've just been pranked," he told them. "By Lucy Weasley."

He pulled up the sleeve of his dress robes to reveal his forearm, which was covered in tribal patterns, snakes and gruesome skull tattoos. The skulls bared their teeth and the black snakes coiled further up towards the biceps. They were, quite frankly, hideous.

"They don't suit you, if I'm honest," Hope observed. "You might want to remove them."

"Didn't occur to me." He prodded her gently on the nose. "I can't. They won't come off. Have I just been outsmarted by a twelve-year-old?"

Hope glanced over to where Lucy was standing in a corner, whispering behind her hands to Molly and pointing to Morella. The two sisters exploded into giggles.

"Um, there might have been a twenty-three-year-old involved as well," she admitted. "I introduced Lucy to Morella earlier. And from what I hear, she doesn't need any encouragement - she's doing a fine job of carrying on the Weasley name all by herself this year. According to Lily, she is getting people to call her The Slytherin Marauder."

"Lucy used to be so cute and innocent," Dom sighed, as Michael gave Hope a look of deepest reproach at this revelation. "What happened to her?"

"You all used to be cute and innocent," Charlie chipped in. "With the exception of James perhaps. And Perce still thinks that Lucy is a perfect little angel who never puts a foot wrong. Ohh," he rubbed his hands together with childish glee, "I hope I'm there to see his face the day he finds out the truth."

oOo

---

November

Hope's first game against the Cannons was an undeniable success, and reviews of the match praised her performance. But as the season got underway, with at least one match, sometimes two, every week, Hope knew she was struggling to be consistent. Griffin kept his faith in her as a starting chaser and her teammates remained supportive, but Hope could sense their frustration, and with every game she felt that her chances of holding her position for the full season were slipping away.

"I played like shit," she lamented to Cal and Dom over a lunch time debrief, the day after a difficult midweek defeat against the Tornadoes. The weather had been atrocious, and apt for the name of their opponents, but she didn't feel that could excuse her poor state of play.

"You're being too hard on yourself," Cal admonished. "Those were tough conditions."

"We were all in the same boat though, weren't we?"

"Same storm," he corrected. "All players have individual obstacles to face, and yesterday wasn't your day."

After this many weeks of training, Hope considered all days should now be her day, or at least most of them. She slumped forwards dejectedly and put her head in her hands, while Cal watched her, mouth twisted in thought.

"When's your next rest day?" He asked suddenly.

"Tomorrow, I think." She raised her head. "Why?"

"Great. We're free tomorrow evening. Let's go down to the Fiendfyre ground and toss a quaffle around, the three of us. No complicated manoeuvres, no intensive fitness drills. Just a simple throw around like we used to at school."

"Yes!" Dom exclaimed, and even Hope brightened at the idea. "I haven't been on a broom for ages."

Cal, as usual, was onto a winner with this idea. An hour of casual play with two of her best friends proved to be the reset Hope had needed, and she was already feeling optimistic about her following training session when they hit the ground again.

"Have they done the European cup draw yet?" Dom asked, once they were home and enjoying a large slice of cake and a mug of firewhisky laced hot chocolate. Rest day also meant cheat day from a healthy diet, Cal had decreed.

"Yes!" Hope confirmed. "This morning. In fact, I need to message James about that."

She put down her plate and took out her Wiznote at once.

"Heard the news?" she wrote. "Our first European cup game is 25th January. At home. And guess who we're playing?"

The reply came in ten minutes later.

"Sorry mate, I did warn you. I'll support you in all your other matches, much as it pains me. But I refuse to sit there in yellow if Aguilas are up there too."

O

Hope knew that her next match, a Saturday game against the Appleby Arrows, was a definite improvement, and it seemed the commentator agreed.

"That's Hope Lupin with her twelfth goal of the match," he cried, as Hope sent the quaffle barrelling past the Arrows keeper yet again. "After patchy performances the last few weeks, it would appear she is back to form. And listen to the crowd!"

"You were SO great," Beth told her the next day, as the two of them sat in the Leaky Cauldron about to have a celebratory drink, which Michael was getting for them. "Your best match yet, I would say."

Hope wasn't so sure. She couldn't stop herself replaying the fumbled passes. The missed goals. The failure to dodge a bludger which had resulted in her colliding with Eric Wrangler and knocking him off course just as he spotted the snitch. He had caught it half an hour later, but if the opposing seeker hadn't been at the wrong end of the pitch at the time, the game could have ended very differently.

"Stop it," Michael said, tone severe, appearing with their drinks and taking one look at her face.

"Stop what?"

"Replaying every single mistake you made yesterday in your mind. I know that's what you're doing."

She did not bother contradicting him, but thanked him for the drink.

"No way," Beth whispered. "Look who it is!"

They both turned to look in the direction she was indicating. Elodie Carmichael was standing at the bar, her hair still in pristine ringlets, her skirt as short as ever. She was the Elodie from school that Hope remembered, except for the fact that a boy of about four years old with dark hair was holding her hand and tugging on it.

"That's not her kid, is it?" Beth asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Can't be. He's way too old."

Hope shook her head. "Probably her nephew. Kirstin got pregnant in their final year and dropped out of school. Dom and Rox told me."

A lump had formed in her throat, but Michael's hand was there under the table within seconds, wrapping around hers, warm and comforting, reminding her that each person's choices were their own.

"I think he's spotted you," Beth said.

Sure enough, Hope could hear the child's squeals now over a slight lull in surrounding chatter.

"But it's Lupin, Aunty El. Hope Lupin. Why can't I get her autograph? Please can I get her autograph. Why not? But she isn't busy. Please can we go and see her? Please! Please, please, please?"

Beth's face was split with malevolent glee at the sight of Elodie's predicament, but Hope held her gaze with calm understanding, and eventually, with the young boy on the verge of tears, Elodie allowed him to drag her over to the table, apparently not wanting to cause any more of a scene.

"Can I have your autograph?" the boy burst out, as they reached the table.

"What do you say?" Elodie chided.

"Please can I have your autograph?"

"Um. Sure," Hope reached into her bag to look for a scrap of paper. This would be her first ever autograph, although she supposed there would be more requests to come.

"On my card, on my card," the boy protested, and out of his coat pocket he pulled out a handful of quidditch cards and rifled through them until he found the desired one, handing it to her. Hope stared down at it in surprise. It was from last season, and she was dressed in her black and red Aguilas robes. She hadn't even realized she had been on the cards the previous year, although now she thought about it, FIQA probably made a few for every registered player, not knowing who would be the most successful until the season had played out. The bigger names would then make it into regular circulation.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Caleb. I'm going to play quidditch one day. Like you."

Hope wrote on the card, Dear Caleb. Good luck with your quidditch training! Love Hope, and signed it. The boy's eyes shone as she handed it back.

"Make sure you keep hold of that," Beth told him seriously. "A signed Hope Lupin card from her first ever season. Will be worth a lot one day."

Hope was now looking up at Elodie, who had not addressed a word to her.

"Alright?" she asked. Elodie nodded.

"Alright thanks. You?"

"Not bad. What you up to these days?"

"Working for the MoMS. Top secret, I'm afraid. If I told you I would have to kill you."

"I won't ask then."

Elodie glanced down at her nephew who was still staring, mesmerised, at his recently acquired prize.

"No need to ask you." Her mouth twisted in what might have been an attempt at a smile. "You did alright Hopel-" she caught herself before the old nickname was complete. "Lupin," she finished. "You did alright. Maybe I'll see you play one of these days. If I have time in between my top secret work projects."

Hope returned the half smile, and Elodie nodded to Beth and Michael before turning and walking away. Beth's eyes were narrowed in suspicion at her retreating back, but Hope felt a strange emotion blossoming inside her. She knew they would never be friends, but that had been an amicable conversation. Her first ever amicable conversation with Elodie Carmichael.

As usual, Beth's mind was five paces ahead, and she had already progressed to the next topic of conversation.

"What are you doing for New Year?" she said, looking between them. "Do you fancy the Spark Lane street party out in Brixton. Loads of our lot are going! Swash is covering it so she can get us discounted tickets."

Hope hesitated. Friendly as she now was with the old Gryffindors, training started up at seven on the second of January. She didn't want the first day of the year to be a write off. And while large gatherings no longer caused her stress or anxiety, New Year's Eve spent out in the freezing cold did not appeal when she already spent most of her waking life battling the elements.

"We don't have to go," Michael told her later.

"I'll think about it. Not sure it's for me. You should go, though."

"I'm not going without you!"

She fixed him with a pointed stare.

"I will not be one of those girlfriends who tells their boyfriend they can't go and have fun without her."

"And I appreciate that," he assured her. "How do you feel about accepting that your boyfriend would prefer to see in the new year with you than a load of drunken strangers?" And, when she tilted her head, considering this. "I'm spending New Year's Eve with you, Hope. Whatever we do."

oOo

---

December

The results of Teddy's final experiment came through in the second week of December.

They were not what he had hoped for.

Hope and Michael were both at the Lupin's house when Teddy broke the news to them, and Hope listened soberly as Teddy recounted the simple facts. His work over the past year had not, under any circumstances, been for nothing. The cure range could now be extended to include individuals who had been bitten twenty years ago, possibly even thirty years ago. But for those who had experienced many years of full on, painful transformations before the invention of Wolfsbane, there was a long way yet to go.

"And I'm not sure now..." Teddy finished. "I need to sit down and work out where I can go from here. I might even need to go back to square one. And-"

"Teddy."

Remus's interjection was soft.

"I will keep trying." Teddy's voice was harsh with determination. "I will. But-"

"Teddy, look at me."

With obvious reluctance, Teddy met his gaze.

"You know what I'm about to say, don't you? What I've told you before. What everyone in this room is thinking."

"I know," Teddy said. "I know what I've achieved is phenomenal and I'm proud of it. I really am. I know it means that thousands of people will never have to spend their lives as a werewolf or suffer a single full moon because of it. But you have spent your life as a werewolf, and you've known hundreds of full moons. I wanted so much to make sure that you didn't have to know another."

Blinking hard, Hope leant backwards so that her head made contact with Michael's jumper, and his hands were on her shoulders instantly. She had wanted that too, but her father still had many years of life ahead of him. He was sixty-five years old. That was no age for a happy, healthy wizard, many of whom lived well into their hundreds. A cure would have increased the chances of a long life expectancy, but hope wasn't lost without it.

Remus's eyes had not left Teddy's steadfast face.

"I'm not speaking for anyone but myself here," he said. "There are people in this world with bites half a century old who would, I'm sure, give anything for a cure. But Teddy, for me personally... It doesn't matter."

"Dad, you always say stuff like that," Teddy shot back. "Of course it matters. You matter."

"Alright," Remus replied. "I will accept that I matter."

Tonks's eyebrows disappeared under her colourful fringe.

"Yes," he continued. "It may have taken me forty odd years to admit it." He ignored his wife's disguised cough of 'more like fifty-five' and pushed on. "But I will accept that my health, happiness and life in general are worth as much as anyone else's. But Teddy, look around you. Look around this room. Look at what I have. I have a wonderful wife. My daughter, a daughter-in-law, a…" he regarded Michael thoughtfully and Hope waited. "Michael," he finished, and Michael's eyes creased in amusement. "All thoughtful, intelligent, successful, beautiful people. Not to mention your grandmother, who has always been there to support us, and a granddaughter on the way. There was once a time I thought I would never even have a child, and soon I will have a grandchild. I have two lovely goddaughters. I have dear friends with whom I have spent the last thirty years living in mostly peaceful and happy times. And, no, look at me Teddy," for Teddy had lowered his eyes again, "I have a caring, dedicated son, whose work and research will change the fortunes of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, across the world."

He looked down at his hand, and traced a thick, jagged scar with his forefinger.

"I have been living with this affliction for sixty years now. It is an integral part of my life. I wouldn't be here, where I am today, if I hadn't been bitten. And as I like where I am today, I consider that every part of what came before was worth it."

"I understand that, Dad," Teddy said. "And I'm so happy you're happy. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't hope for a cure. Or that I shouldn't keep working on one for you."

Hope thought back to a conversation held with Damiano in Spain. She had expressed a similar sentiment - that she didn't regret the bad times because they had brought her to a happier place in the end. He had been more than dismissive, insisting that was rubbish, that you couldn't spin the bad memories into positive ones just because you were happy in the present moment.

She didn't agree. She wasn't even sure he had understood her argument. At no point would she forget the darkness in her past. They would always be there, the memories of her lowest moments that she would never wish to relive. Yet they were part of who she was in the present. The reason she knew what light to look for in the future. And hadn't her father just articulated a similar thought?

"Teddy, I know you won't give up on this," Remus confirmed. "But please don't do it for me. You've done enough on my account. I could not be prouder of you or feel more honoured and grateful. So, as you take this forward, while you figure out what to do next, please, please do it for others. For those who are suffering. Those who are broken, who need fixing. Those who feel a cure would turn their whole life around. Because for me…"

He surveyed the room again. Tonks had her hand in his. Victoire sat listening intently, her eyes compassionate. Michael, still standing behind Hope, rested his chin on her head and smiled in understanding. Dom, Lily and other red haired Weasleys waved down at them from the photos on the walls. Teddy did not look away as his father finished his sentence.

"I got the life I wanted. There's nothing left to fix."

O

"You OK?" Michael enquired softly, when the two of them had retreated upstairs and Hope was sitting on her bed, lost in thought. "I know how much you worry."

"Yeah, I do," she admitted. "But not like I used to. He's well, isn't he? Healthy and happy. And who knows what else Teddy can do in the coming years."

She got to her feet and he put his arms around her.

"I might stay here though, if that's OK?" He nodded at once. "Rest properly for Sunday. Can't believe it's the last match of the year already."

"Speaking of," Michael said, clicking his fingers as he remembered. "We need to let Beth know if we want those New Year tickets."

Hope knew her decision had been made long ago.

"No, I'm not going," she said. "I wouldn't enjoy it. I still think you should go, but if you don't want to-"

He had already shaken his head and she knew there was no point insisting. "What do you want to do instead?"

"What would you choose?" Michael asked. "If you could see in the new year any way you liked."

Hope thought back to the New Year's Eve parties that had always been her favourites. Spent with the Weasleys. Those unsophisticated times before drinking, sex and adult decisions had brought complications crashing into her world.

"My favourite New Year parties were when we were younger," she said. "We were old enough to stay up but too young for proper drinking, and we would go to the Potters and all the kids were banished to that big room they kept their toys in. And we drank butterbeer and played games all night and ate our body weight in sugar."

Michael was smiling, eyebrows raised.

"Those days are long gone," Hope said.

"Not necessarily," he countered. "Why should we be too mature to play games, eat sweets and drink butterbeer? I'll have the house free, with the girls out. We could invite the Weasleys round."

"I doubt anyone will want to. They probably have more exciting plans."

"Possibly. But you know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"Don't try, won't know?"

She used said phrase a lot herself now, and in the end Michael turned out to be quite right. Roxanne was already committed to plans with Morella, and James was attending a party with Ellie's muggle university friends ("Are you sure that's a good idea?" Beth had asked her sister in disbelief). Dom and Cal, however, leapt at the idea. Lily dragged Hugo along, telling him it was not acceptable to spend New Year's Eve moping because the girl he liked had turned him down (with the perfectly reasonable excuse of "Sorry Hugo, I don't fancy you.") Louis was back from France for the holidays and jumped at the chance to catch up with half his family in one go.

Albus brought along what he assured them was an excellent strategy game, much to Scorpius's displeasure, and Molly had been allowed to attend under the strict condition that she drank nothing stronger than butterbeer and was collected by Audrey at ten minutes past midnight. Lucy was grounded for the entirety of the holidays. Bill had been fortunate enough to witness Percy opening the letter from Lucy's Head of House the week before, expecting glowing words of praise for his youngest, and discovering instead a detailed account of the Can of Food Fight Worms that had been unleashed in the Great Hall during the Christmas end of term feast. ("But it was Morella Flint's idea," Lucy had protested. Percy had been even more aghast at this, and Bill had sent Charlie a detailed description of their brother's crestfallen expression and the serious and entirely futile lecture that had followed. Finally he wrote, Perce is feeling the trials of parenting.)

Rosie also accepted the invite but announced that she would be leaving just after midnight too, which Hope assumed was down to work, until Hugo piped up that Rose now had a boyfriend who she was going to meet for the rest of the night. Hope managed to get out of her that no it was not Mitch Sullivan, yes he was very nice, no the family didn't know him and no they wouldn't be meeting him yet. Yes, she was sure.

She gave up probing in the end and told Rose about running into Elodie at The Leaky Cauldron. On hearing this, Rosie's neat little nose wrinkled in disgust, but she conceded that everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. She would not like to be judged now based on the person she had been at school.

"And I was a decent human being, not a little cow like her."

"True that."

"Speaking of running into random people!" Rose said. "Guess who I saw the other day in Diagon Alley?"

"Who?"

"Edgecombe."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, and she was with Paul Nightingale," Rosie continued. "Mum's deputy, you know? Holding hands. And I know you never can be sure, but it looked like she might be pregnant."

Hope knew a rare moment of having to morph her face to hide her true reaction. Few knew of the complications surrounding Edgecombe's pregnancy and The Surge. Only Michael knew about the letter she had sent Hope in the aftermath of the Flints' arrest. And no one knew about the memory Hestia had shown her in St Mungo's. No one ever would. Hope intended to keep that information to herself forever.

"Nightingale was at school with my dad," Hope said, remembering. "That's quite an age gap. Although not that different from my mum and dad, I guess. And Edgecombe will be in her late forties now-" She trailed off, wondering what that would mean for the pregnancy. Surely it would go well this time. It had to go well. After everything Marietta had been through.

"Magical medical advances are making it increasingly safe for women to have children later in life." Rosie seemed to have followed her thought process. "As is their right!" She added decisively, and Hope knew she was remembering her conversation with Ali's cousin at the recent wedding.

"Good for her," Hope said softly, but Rose let out a sympathetic sigh.

"It is a shame we had Edgecombe all those years, isn't it? I thought she was alright, but I know you didn't get on with her and apparently the new professor is amazing. Really dynamic and fun, like Izatt was."

Hope shrugged, thinking of her old professor. She wondered how William Bulstrode was holding up, serving out his community service with dedication and gratitude that he had not been sentenced to Azkaban. Then her mind strayed to Cynthia and Marcus Flint, who would spend their lives there. But Rose's information had finally convinced her she had done the right thing by looking into the Surge. Perhaps the 'peace and closure' she had brought to Edgecombe had allowed her to move on and find someone else. Embark on a fresh start with a man who understood all she had been through and loved her for who she was. She knew what that felt like.

"Al, this is really complicated." Albus was attempting to explain his game to Scorpius and Hugo, both of whom were complaining loudly. "Can't we play exploding snap?"

"It's simple," Al protested. "So simple. The bricks make the roads and the roads link the towns and eventually the town will be big enough to make a city."

"So can I put this one here?" Hugo placed a brown and green tile to the left of the example Albus had laid out.

"No, because then you're blocking the road without linking it to a town. You have to keep building the road until it reaches a destination."

Scorpius screwed up his nose. "Maybe you should play with Louis instead." He nodded over to where Louis was engrossed in conversation with Cal about international careers.

"Forget it," Albus sighed in despair and poured an entire sherbert sachet into his mouth. "Let's play exploding snap."

Dom and Michael were giving Lily advice for the following year, when she and Hugo would finally be venturing into the world in different directions, Hugo to the Ministry to pursue his only recently revealed ambition of becoming an Auror like Uncle Harry, and Lily to travel with one of their classmates.

Molly was flitting round the room, pink-cheeked, basking in the attention that came with being the youngest and only underage attendee of the evening. Dot was sitting on one of her shoulders and Hope on the other. Hope thought back to the day the girls had christened their new pygmy puff, the day she had truly believed she would amount to nothing more than inspiration for a child's pet name. She had come a long way since then.

Shortly before midnight, feeling cold, Hope climbed the stairs to Michael's room to hunt for a jumper. She leant her head against his window for a second, savouring the view of the streets below.

"Happy New Year."

She turned in surprise to see that he had followed her up the stairs.

"It's not New Year yet," she protested. "I'm coming back for the countdown with everyone."

He looked at his watch. "It's already 2026 everywhere from Tarawa through to Paris."

"Oh yes, you're so knowledgeable and well-travelled." She rolled her eyes. "You live in London, remember? And here it's still 2025."

But fireworks were exploding everywhere and the sky outside the window was a blur of smoke and colour even though there were ten minutes to go until the official midnight moment. And Michael was now standing right behind her, arms around her shoulders. She leant back against him, the rock she strove not to need but would always want. Always be grateful for.

"Happy New Year," she murmured, turning around and burying her face in his neck. "I love you. So much."

Ten minutes to go until 2026. The countdown to which would be spent with ten of her favourite people in the world. And, she realised suddenly, 2026 would mark ten years since receiving her Hogwarts letter. What a whirlwind of a decade it had been.

In another ten years… who knew? Luna's adorable little boys, Lorcan and Lysander, would likely be receiving their own Hogwarts letters. Luna and Rolf were soon to start traveling again but they would be coming back so that the twins could attend Hogwarts, Luna had confirmed. She would not be robbing her children of the experience that had given her her first ever and best ever friends.

In ten years' time, Teddy and Victoire's baby, Hope's niece, would be nearing Hogwarts age as well, a little girl with life, a personality, a name. And apparently Marietta Edgecombe had a child on the way too. The seeds of the upcoming generation had already been sown. A generation born from the three that had come before it, and whose battles and challenges would be different yet again.

oOo

---

January

The morning of the cup match, Hope pulled on her Wasp robes and studied her reflection in the enormous mirror that hung on the wall in the hallway between Beth and Michael's room. It still gave her a secret thrill, to see her robed reflection and know that she had made it. Fulfilled the dream she had held since the age of eleven.

The ornate corners and gilded frame reminded Hope of the mirror she had found in an abandoned corridor during her seventh year at Hogwarts. She knew what it was by now, The Mirror of Erised. A mirror which reflected the watcher's deepest wish. Harry, who had encountered it as a young boy, had explained what Albus Dumbledore had once said to him. That the happiest person on earth would look into the mirror and see only themselves, exactly as they were.

Hope had reflected on this statement many times since her conversation with Harry. Surely no one in the world saw only themselves when they looked into the mirror. Everyone had a heart's desire. One that mattered. One so important that it weighed on the soul. What would she see, if the mirror were in front of her now? She supposed she would always pray for a Lycanthropy cure to be found eventually. She would always want to do better at quidditch, become the solid, reliable chaser she longed to be, not the inconsistent player with flashes of brilliance that she knew she currently was. And that her family, her friends and Michael remained happy and healthy was her deepest wish of all.

She would never look into the Mirror of Erised again, therefore would never know for certain. What she did know was that the girl - woman - staring back at her from this ordinary mirror was not a stranger. The other girl was long gone now, and if she cleared her mind and relaxed her face, she barely saw a difference in the reflection before her. Morphing had become a convenience that she rarely used, rather than a daily disguise to hide behind.

About to change her hair to the trademark red for the match, Hope stopped herself. She didn't need to alter her appearance for her day to day life on the ground. Perhaps she didn't need it when she up in the air either. It may even help, to remain completely herself for the game.

If you don't try, you'll never know.

"No red hair today?" Michael enquired in surprise, coming out of his room and watching as she pulled her brown locks into a ponytail.

"No," Hope said simply. "Not today."

O

"Changing up the hairstyle, Lupin?" Wrangler observed, as they lined up to walk out onto the pitch.

"Yes." The brown plume of hair swung behind her as she nodded. "Not even sure why. I just had a good feeling about it."

"Fair!" he said. "Good feeling won't go amiss for this match. Need to thrash 'em after last time."

The doors opened and the blast of shouts and screams, louder than ever today, hit her like a wall as the two teams strode onto the pitch. Hope glanced upwards. Michael would be there somewhere. And her parents and Teddy. Even Victoire, bless her, who had insisted on coming even though it would no doubt be an uncomfortable and exhausting day for her. Dom and Cal would be sitting with Roxanne and possibly Morella. James with Ellie and Beth, determinedly wearing red and black while Beth tried to switch his flags to Wasp colours every chance she got.

The sheer enormity of the atmosphere threatened to overwhelm her, but Hope was used to the pressure of professional quidditch by now and the sensation lasted for less than a second. Nevertheless, her mind reverted to its old trick, the one that had kept her calm back in darker times. Something she could see… Something she could hear… Something she could smell…

The blur of yellow and red on all sides. The cheers that were reaching fever pitch. The smell of quaffle leather and fresh quidditch robes as the members of each team shook hands. There was a specific determination in the faces of their opponents as they squared up to Hope, but Laura Zilbeti smiled at her old teammate, a sign that this was sporting rivalry, not personal animosity.

Something she could taste…

The frost in the air coated her nose and throat as she took a deep breath in. Refreshing in its own way. All fourteen players mounted their brooms and the noise of the crowd died away momentarily as the referee held up her hand. There had to be quiet for the game to begin.

Something she could feel…

The wood of her broomstick against her hands. The cold from the frozen grass seeping through the soles of her boots. A swell of adrenaline as the shrill blast pierced the silence in the stadium, unleashing a renewed roar of sound. The freezing air whipping her face as both teams shot up into the air.

The balls were released, the quaffle pitched high between the two centre chasers. Aguilas took first possession but lost it almost immediately after a misjudged pass, and Hope, flying ahead on the offense, knew even as she caught the quaffle that the first goal of the game was hers for the taking. She had the speed to hold off the chasing defender, the agility to avoid both well aimed bludgers. She had a clear plan of attack, bearing sharply left as the keeper drifted right. He recognised his mistake even as he made it, but by then it was too late. Hope was metres away from the gap in his defense, strength and precision in her dominant arm. She was where she had wanted to be, where she needed to be. Only failure in confidence could now stand in her way, and her mind was focused, crystal clear, free from all thought except the open hoop before her.

Ten-Zero flashed up on the scoreboard. The lead was theirs and the screams from the black and yellow side of the stands intensified as Hope soared back to the middle of the pitch. She knew it was the tiniest of advantages. The first step towards victory in a sport where victory was always a possibility but never a certainty. No score was ever high enough to guarantee a win when the burden of the closing play fell on the seekers alone. As a chaser, all she could do was maintain advantage and momentum until the fate of the game was sealed. As a chaser, all she could do was persevere, plan the next attack, dodge the next bludger, reach for the next steal, aim for the next goal.

Take the next step.

No matter how small.

And hope for solid ground under her feet.

---

The End

---

OOO