The meaning of 'anything else'
[This sub-chapter's warning is for anal sex because technically. But even more for animagi having miscommunication issues that they brought on themselves because they decided they wanted the challenge. The second sub-chapter is sex free, if you want to skip to it.]
They fed him lunch, over which, Parvati asked Padma whether she cared one way or the other about House of Potter vs. House of Black, and/or only, that they were in the same. Padma agreed that there being an option had been a surprise but being in the same was really her main desire.
Then Mr. Patil went away to an appointment and Mrs. Patil sent the girls to wash dishes, while she took Harry into the front of the shop and interviewed him about his contraceptive habits.
He answered honestly. Though a little haltingly. He tried not to mind, he might have expected Sirius to try to ask the same questions.
"How often do you have sex with Parvati?" she said.
"I have not had sex with Parvati," said Harry.
Mrs. Patil frowned, "who have you had sex with?"
"A woman of house Potter began tutoring me when I was almost fourteen," he said, "and I tutored a muggle-born friend for almost four months, Then Padma. And there have been a few breeding contracts regarding me, one is ongoing. And there's a thrall I've … given up trying to free until she's ready for freedom, and Miss Weasley, more snogging than sex, and more snuggling than snogging."
"Of my daughters, you've only had sex with Padma, but it's Parvati who you're offering to marry?"
"I offered the same thing to both your daughters:" said Harry, "the contracts that they each asked me to offer them."
"Oh," she said, "will you take those contracts being finalised as permission to have more sex with them?"
"Padma asks for what she wants, when she wants it, so about her, not really, or perhaps: ask her? Parvati told me, 'no vaginal sex until there is a contract.' So for her, in a sense, probably. On the other hand, she has not directly asked me for anything else, merely mentioned that it could be an option."
Mrs. Patil closed her eyes, "and you did not take that as permission to ask? Or to reply with a statement about your own limits? So that she could feel confident to ask for anything else?"
Harry shrugged, "I did take it as permission to ask, I just … haven't asked yet."
"Do you have something against oral or anal sex?" she said, "not that that's a problem, many people do."
"Not that exactly," said Harry, "Maybe a little."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I like to see the eyes of the one I'm with, makes me more comfortable with … err flow of consent I guess," said Harry, "Seems like vaginal is best for maintaining eye contact, and anal second best, if you're willing to be a contortionist."
She nodded, opened her mouth and paused for a few seconds, then said, "it is not my place to tutor you in additional methods."
"I know mirrors can also be useful, but I haven't had a chance to practice that much."
She nodded and relaxed.
Harry relaxed.
After several deep breaths, she said, "How often do you masturbate?"
"Hmm," said Harry, "I haven't recently, I haven't tried to keep track."
She nodded, "I want you to remember that it is an option if the other option is raping someone you care about."
"Of course," said Harry.
"And I want you to remember that you can offer help masturbating if a wife or two and a breed contract or two turns out to be more than you can physically handle."
"Ah," said Harry, "makes sense."
"In fact (in my head at least) I consider there to be five classes of sexual touch, not that anything precludes mixing and matching according to the preferences of the participants and the context, manual or masturbating, with toys, oral, vaginal, anal. Though of course, manual and with toys can be solo activities, they don't need to be."
"I suppose," said Harry.
"And when they are not a solo activity, I believe them exactly as meaningful to a relationship as the other three. Not that my perspective is entirely popular." She sniffed, as if to emphasise it wasn't her fault that other people were clueless.
Harry stared at her. Was she being too slytherin to understand on purpose? Or is she just trying not to say rude words that might scare me off or make me giggle too much to hear what she's trying to say?
Harry repeated her words in his head.
"Are you saying that … what is done in service of another is … umm … meaningful because of the ends, rather than because of the means?"
She smiled, "Precisely. Or at least, in essence, yes."
"There's got to be a less abstract way of saying all that."
She shrugged and smiled, "Are you a reader?"
Harry blinked, "What are you asking? As in books, or minds, or body language? or I think there's a thing you can do with ambient magic."
"True," She laughed, "I meant books, I can make some assumptions based on you being able to keep my daughters' attentions, but I thought I'd ask. Seems like a thing, in general, I'd want to know about my son-in-law."
Why had we suddenly switched topics? What even was the topic or context or … unless the topic hadn't changed at all, she was just trying to decide how to present an additional nugget of advice… But this was a thing she merely didn't already know about me.
"Books are fine," said Harry.
She stared at him, the corners of her lips twitching.
"What?"
"Merely 'fine'?" she said and nodded, "Useful tools, but you're on the pragmatic end of the spectrum with Parvati?"
"You could say that," nodded Harry.
"Good enough," she said, "If you ever feel lacking in trustworthy information about one of the five classes of sexual touch, or whatever, or feel any of your usual sources of information is or was biased against knowing or sharing something you think you need to know to proceed safely, feel free to owl me for advice, or a reading list."
"Ah!" said Harry. What happened to 'it's not my place to tutor you in additional methods?' or maybe this was, 'unless we negotiate it to be her place to offer me such tutoring.' "Fine, thank you for the offer, I'll try to keep that in mind."
She nodded and looked away. After several seconds she nodded again and sighed, "I also think that you might have misinterpreted Parvati's declaration of: no vaginal sex until there was a contract."
"How so?"
"She told you what not to ask for," said Mrs. Patil.
"Yes."
Harry felt a twinge of his magic and glanced in that direction. Parvati and Padma were just on the other side of the glass door to the back hall. Eyes wide and clutching each other's hands. He concentrated on the flow of magic to them, Parvati was invisible. And Padma was out of sight of her mother.
"And did you interpret that as permission to ask for literally anything else?"
Harry shrugged and nodded.
"Then why haven't you asked?"
"I have given them what I wanted to give them," said Harry, "I have offered them what I wanted to offer them."
"Which is what?"
"My magical protection, when they want it, my legal protection as soon as the terms are negotiated."
Parvati held up her left hand without letting go of Padma and rubbed her holster.
Harry nodded and smiled.
She smiled back. Padma rolled her eyes. But she flared her rune and let it relax.
Mrs. Patil sighed, "One of us is not listening to the other."
That seemed like something Harry would expect Padma to say in the midst of an argument with Hermione. The next question was supposed to be which one was going to take the first turn trying harder to listen.
But she didn't say that, she just looked at him.
She was older, she got the first say.
"Alright, I'm listening," said Harry.
She nodded, "When things are new or complicated, When there are plans and safety arrangements to be made, Parvati likes for I or Padma to be in charge. When things are simple or nothing is at risk, or she's managed to establish to her satisfaction that being told what to do won't help her understanding of the topic, Parvati will hurry ahead and let Padma observe and remember and try to optimise for next time. When things are too dangerous or time-critical for Padma to give instructions, or for that matter to go and research them, Parvati knows that she must charge ahead and damn the consequences, and she does."
"Sounds right," said Harry.
"Telling you her limits, and asking you to work around them, sounds exactly like her offering advice to Padma, and then also the responsibility for making the tough strategy decisions."
He turned and looked at Parvati.
She nodded.
"Lightfeet is a warhorse, not a general?"
She nodded.
"Conversely," continued Mrs. Patil in the meanwhile, seemingly unaware of their conversation, "if you are uncomfortable with accepting the entire responsibility for planning, the next step would be to reply with your own limits, and your own desires, so both of you can be working together to find a mutually acceptable solution. Two heads are better than one and all that, but only if they share their goals and progress in a reasonable and timely way."
But of course, she couldn't hear, no one outside his protection could ever hear him properly when he was speaking to someone under the protection of his rune.
Harry went to Parvati and grabbed her chin the way he'd seen Susan use many times on horses. She'd only tried it once on Parvati before getting the idea not to.
Parvati looked at him and didn't scream or bare her teeth.
"I want your virginity for my … new years present," he muttered, "figure out which contract you want, then sign it. Or figure out what changes you still want and demand them."
He saw her flinch, for a moment he thought she was going to cow and say 'yes, my lord,' like Nim or Luna.
Then she stood up straight as her invisibility faded away. She arched her neck proudly, and saluted, before wrenching her chin out of his hand and scampering away in the general direction of her father's office.
"What in Merlin's name?" said Mrs. Patil.
"I told you," said Harry, "my magical protection, as often as they desire it, which includes privacy and invisibility."
"Dear me," she said, "Parvati can turn invisible?"
Padma smirked.
"Yes, ma'am," said Harry, "So can Padma, though she … uses it differently."
"Well, yes, that follows," said Mrs. Patil.
"But what happened while she was invisible?"
"I saw her," said Harry.
"What?"
"Your explanation," said Harry, "helped me see her."
"Through your gift of invisibility?"
"No, I can always see them through my gift," said Harry, "your explanation, about Parvati, helped me understand her a little better."
Parvati returned and handed a contract to her mother, "Can you sign this, or does it have to be Dad?"
"Legally I believe it could be either of us," said Mrs. Patil, "But your father would like to be the one to sign."
Parvati smiled, "That's fine, Harry, do you want to sign."
"I don't mind," said Harry, "As long as you're sure that's the one you want, I'll sign it."
"And the matching one for Padma?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, Harry," said Padma.
After Harry had verified that it was a matching set, (option two: Padma had the power to induct any willing Patils that she wanted into her Family, but remained head of that family) he signed both.
Padma also signed hers, and kissed Harry on the cheek, then walked across the store to make herself nominally busy arranging products towards the fronts of shelves.
Conversely, Parvati took his hand and stood still, looking at her mother.
Mrs. Patil stared at her for several seconds, then smiled warmly, took up the pen also, found the appropriate signature line, and placed her initials, all the way on the far right end of the line, with plenty of space for her husband to sign at the beginning.
Legally sufficient, but perhaps more politically expedient within the Patil family politics.
She smiled warmly at Parvati again, then glanced at their clasped hands, "Not in the store or the kitchen," she told Parvati. "Padma, come put these back on your Father's desk."
"Yes, Mum," said Padma and made her way over. Parvati dragged Harry out of the way, then kept dragging him through the back room and halfway across the open warehouse. Then she stopped and turned to stare into his eyes. "My room, or the loft?"
She punctuated these options with motions first toward a door that looked like a mini-mansion's fancy front door, stained glass and everything, (odd for the middle of a warehouse wall) and a point upward to a quilt and reading lamp way up in the top of the warehouse shelving by one of the few windows that didn't have a fan covering it. That 'shelf' was four feet wide and should only be accessible by forklift. It was fenced in only on the end and back. And yet by the hangings and window decorations, it might have been in use for at least a decade. Harry figured that wasn't really supposed to exist, (especially according to safety regulations), but with one daughter a gregarious daredevil, and the other a mildly introverted monkey. Perhaps their parents had decided that it wasn't worth the effort to curtail. Perhaps having such a nest was psychologically beneficial in some way. Perhaps, it stood in for whatever children in suburbs needed a tree-house for.
Or, no wait, there was a rope or cable or something stretched across the front, that seemed at least 50% better than nothing, but still not great? On the other hand, he regularly flew 10 times that high, which was perfectly fine, as long as his broom was functioning properly and he didn't have to split his attention too many different ways, (the game would be significantly less stressful/exciting with only 1 bludger).
Harry looked away, "Are those really options?"
"She said, 'not the store or the kitchen,'" explained Parvati, "that literally means, anywhere else, but, I'm not interested in anywhere except those two, or … I guess we could portkey to my uncle's, sit through forty minutes of gossip and scrutiny, and then floo anywhere you have a preference for."
Harry looked again, "I like the idea of your loft," he said, "But I think that's for when everything normal is no longer exciting and we need to add sneaking around to make it interesting again."
She snickered, then led him through the door with stained glass, and upstairs and down a hall to a room that was one part bedroom and three parts shrine to horses, fashion, and perhaps nymphs and goddesses or at least artwork about them. Something about a variation of temperature, or the motion of Parvati's focus, just as they entered, made Harry glance across the corridor, the door there was 95% closed, but according to the new artwork of cats on library shelves, and the faded old stickers of monkeys reading books, he guessed that was probably Padma's room. Was the weird pseudo-temperature thing his still-developing sense of other ambient magic acting up? Maybe because it was people's magic, instead of natural magic. Maybe twins living in proximity to each other but not in the same room? Setting up a field that imprinted on the building itself and whatever?
His musings cut off when Parvati locked the door and stripped to the leather underthing he'd given her. She turned to stare at him.
He undressed more carefully, placing each piece of clothing in a politely folded stack, and searched for words, "Parvati?" he said.
"Harry," she said.
"May I?"
"The contract is signed," she said, "that restriction is lifted."
"Does that mean, I may ask for anything I want?"
"It does," she said.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to call me Lady Black.'
"Technically you aren't until Sirius dies," said Harry, "Well technically you're not Mrs. Black until you're eighteen, but …"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Legal technicalities: Are merely what we can force other people to recognise in their paperwork-simulation of the real world."
She looked half mystified, half impressed, then smirked and nodded, "True."
"Parvati Black," he said and removed his shoes.
She stood to attention, or something vaguely like it. And smiled.
"My Parvati Black." He said and removed his shirt.
"Yes, My Lord," she replied.
And when she said it, it was a military rank, not a political one. Interesting.
"My betrothed," he said and removed his pants.
"Yes, My husband," she said.
He grasped the leather at her sides and lifted it off her. She held up her arms to help it flow off.
"What do I see?" he said.
"Your warhorse," she said.
He nodded, "Lightfeet Black."
"That is ironic," she smiled.
He returned the smile.
"Your broodmare," she said. Her mouth twisted in a slight wince, though her eyes seemed amused and her shoulders proud. Loving the title, and maybe happily the anticipation of the duties? But also knowing that scheduling for babies wasn't yet ideal. He filed it away to think about when he had more time, maybe there was some other title she could identify with more comfortably. But she had said it, who was he to second guess, that she meant it, maybe the only thing he got to question was what she meant.
He looked up to her hair, imagining the horse she was behind the human she seemed, "Mine," he agreed.
She mouthed something, but he couldn't hear her.
She stepped forward. she wasn't touching him, but she was very close. And she was turned a little sideways to him. Does she hope I'll whisper things in her ear? Translation: I thought I heard someone, talk quieter. Or Lean closer Harry, so I can sneak a kiss.
But she … often got this close to Padma before … Oh, before hugs.
He hugged her. She shivered a little but held on.
"I usually don't tell you about how pretty you are," he said, "because I'd feel like an idiot for stating the obvious."
She stood up straighter, "What?"
"You're the prettiest in our group, which given the comparison to Padma is obviously part natural and part effort, and I admire both."
"Both I and Padma?"
"That's not what I said," he said, "You and she have the same natural beauty, you also put more effort and skill into presenting it well."
"Oh," she said then nodded.
"Also, I may be biased, but I value both of you, all of you, for your personalities, but 'war horse' is an aesthetic nearer and dearer to my heart than 'wise one of the forest'."
"Gryffindor," she smirked, raising her face to him for a moment, then lowering her head again. For a moment he again mistook it for hanging her head in submission, but a moment later he remembered that it was probably more like showing off her neck somehow.
There were worlds of difference between the submission of surrender, and the submission of presenting oneself for inspection. If that could even be called submission rather than showing off.
He smirked back.
She was tense.
Tense with fear, or tense, ready for action?
She certainly wasn't shying away from him, merely, a little from his gaze, and he wasn't sure what that signified in horses.
Then it clicked. Susan got almost this close lots of the time, and it meant focused attention.
Horses and dogs were notorious for getting along.
Because their body languages were either compatible, or interacted in a positive feedback loop.
Dogs like to smell and lick, horses like to be smelled. And Nim once said that the point of hugs was to leave scent on each other.
I don't think horses hug, but the Patil sisters certainly did.
He pulled back, "do horses hug?"
She turned to stare at him, and shook her head, "Hmm, not with legs or anything, just, kind of just lay our necks around each other, or rub our faces along each others' sides."
"Checking on each others' health and emotional state, by smell?"
She nodded, "or rubbing our manes on each other's shoulder or on anything convenient in the general vicinity of a flirting partner's nose."
"Which might be the inverse gesture, 'here, this is how I smell and feel about you'?"
She nodded and raised her far hand to rub her fingers through her hair.
Her hair did smell different than the herb smells she'd picked out for her shift.
He held her close again and mentally focused on being aware of her scent, not only on the feel of her in his arms. There were different smells of her hair, and of her neck, but her shoulder only smelled of her shift herbs. But there was more smell nearby, like her skin but fresher. He pulled back and found her eyes.
She was still waiting for something. Waiting for him to finish his inspection? Waiting for an order?
He stepped around her and breathed again.
Well obviously? He put a finger between her elbow and her side and lifted it gently. She let him lift her arm, and he sniffed her armpit. He almost flinched away at the awkwardness of that, but he couldn't see how a simpler way to communicate what he wanted: that he knew she was a horse as well as a human, and that he didn't mind trying to communicate with those instincts also.
She blushed. He wouldn't have expected to be able to see that, but there was enough of her skin exposed right now it wasn't hard.
"I want to remind you, that I've already liked you just the way you've been," he whispered, "before I also say, that I really like finally having someone … in my family."
She spun around, and stared at him for a fraction of a second, before grabbing him in a tight embrace. Tighter than he could remember from anyone since Hermione tried to…
Oh, was this a 'tell the orphan he's not alone' hug?
"I thought you were going to say something more about clothes and being naked," she said, "and then you go and talk about family."
He nodded, "about how you act, and how we're allowed to act," he said.
"So it was about nakedness?"
He nodded, "But more about … looking forward to saying 'my wife Parvati Black,' and muggle-borns knowing what I mean, instead of just 'my friend,' or 'my prospective house member' or whatever."
She frowned, "Do you know the word 'love'?"
He shrugged, "I know it, but don't tend to find it useful outside of the concept of, 'love languages'. Some languages have enough vocabulary to subdivide it a lot, and English borrows words from lots of languages."
She snorted, "What's your point?"
"What's yours?"
"Do you already love me?" she said, (like it was a more risque scandal than sex without a contract would have been). Right, old arranged marriage ethics, not the modern notions that love might be a reason to marry, rather than a stupid and untrustworthy temptation towards bastards or a bad marriage.
"I am extremely fond of you," he said, "you're a good friend, and you're, I think the term is, 'hot as hell'." He shrugged, "So I think, yes."
"You're describing your subjective reality, as an outside observer," she said, "why?"
Harry shrugged, "because you're an outside observer and I'm trying to help you understand my world?"
She shrugged, "never-mind, why did you only answer the subdivided question and not the main question?"
"Because … it felt like you're asking if I want to marry you because I love you."
"And the answer is?"
He nodded, "The answer is 'no.'"
She relaxed like that was a weight off her mind.
"Then why do you want to marry me?"
"Because you're the only girl I've met who seems to be Head of House material for the kind of house I hope to have."
"What?"
"Susan is already an heir, but not ready yet to rule. Your sister is head of house material, but only for a house that only experiences legal threats. Ginny is mother material, she just doesn't see it yet, but that's alright, I think … she's as happy on a pitch and several other places, as she will be with kids when she's good and ready to have kids. And I want her to do that first. Just like I want you to have your career also."
"You think she needs to put her career before her family?"
"I think that temperamentally, once she has a family, she won't be able to also have a career, and she'll be happier having a productive career to look back on. I think you can do both. Career, House management, Family care, and probably Wizengamot and economic strategy."
"I'm feeling both complimented, and irritated that you think you can just dictate so many years' worth of future study for me."
"I think, you're intelligent enough to just wing it, and manage above-average results, but I suspect that usually, you'd rather study enough to produce outstanding results, and I don't mind that."
She gaped at him.
Finally, she nodded, "Yeah, that's about right."
He smiled.
She smiled back, then sighed, "So … What about Hermione?"
"What about her?"
"Head of house material?"
"Sort of," said Harry, "not the sort of house I want to be in though."
She frowned, "What?"
He sighed, then shrugged, "First of all, she's out of my league, and I'd have said 'yes,' if she'd ever asked me to marry her. Second of all, she knows it, and won't ask, because we both know she wants to run a more philosophically provably-correct house. And I want a house where all my children are safe and provided for. And not slaves."
"Certainly," said Parvati, "and … you want me helping run that house. And Ginny?"
"You can correct me," said Harry, "But my imagination is you helping run and protect the House of Potter and Black, and Ginny helping care for and protect the families of Potter and Black."
"I think I understood you, but I think it sounds wrong somewhere."
"It's an idea I had before I knew about the House and Family of Black being things I might need to deal with. You're welcome to suggest alterations, now or whenever it is that there is time to contemplate changes."
She nodded, then shivered, "It's December, and here I am standing around naked, why aren't we snuggling or something?" she scampered a pace and a half to her bed and lifted the covers just long enough to slip under them.
"Good point," said Harry, "May I join you."
"Of course," she shivered, "Hmm, bring my under thing?"
He raised an eyebrow but complied, she took it and stretched it under herself in the process of also sliding farther over to make room for him.
Climbing in after her, put him on the side she was used to allowing him or Padma to snuggle her. He suddenly knew he could predict where Padma's bed was in her room.
And how Padma climbed into the loft. And that by technicality it was Padma's loft. Even if both of them used it equally and would never admit it belonged to one of them more than the other.
She hummed and pulled him close enough that she could snuggle up against him without getting off her shift.
"Are you alright?"
"Will be in a minute or two," she said, "sorry I distracted us."
"I don't remember how that happened," he said.
"You said something about family," she said, "and I didn't understand, I still don't."
"Maybe I meant something different by family than other people do," he said.
"What do you mean by it?"
He shrugged, "There is an artefact called the Mirror of Erised.'
"It … shows you what you hate?"
"No, your 'heart's desire,' just, written backwards, because it's a mirror."
She snorted, "where did you find one?"
"Wandering around after curfew at Hogwarts, about ten days less than four years ago."
"And you saw me?"
"I saw my parents, also a bunch of other people that I still don't have any idea how to identify. By interpretation: at the time I either wanted my family back, or someone to take care of me, or family in general."
"Ah."
"Or a large family to call my own in particular."
"OK," she said, "That brings things full circle."
She kissed his forehead. They shared a smile, and it only got warmer.
Then she frowned. "Hmm," she said, "Logic problem:"
"Uh oh," he said, "what is it?"
"We signed, so my restriction is lifted, but you just demanded my virginity for your new year's day present, right?"
"Yes," he said, "I wanted to give you time to demand, and us to fulfil your request if you had problems with the contracts so far on offer."
She nodded, "I figured, thank you for the margin. But the contract was fine."
"What then?"
"If I give you my virginity right now, I cannot also give it to you on New Year's."
Harry shrugged, "Some people are more or less strict about which days to give presents on."
"Or," she said, "we can do something else today so that you can take the present you asked for on New Year's."
"Hmm," said Harry, "I'm not sure whether to interpret that as you offering me a two for one deal, or demanding one."
She smirked, "demanding obviously. And I'm interpreting 'virginity' as 'first vaginal intercourse' because that is obviously what you meant when you demanded the New Year's present, even though that is not entirely a common definition."
"I thought it was your definition."
She shrugged, "At the time, I sort of meant 'no risk of pregnancy' and 'no risk of getting found out' should my father's family insist on being prudes. But Hermione's talk about hygiene has changed my perspective somewhat."
"Fair enough," said Harry.
"So, what are we doing today?" said Parvati.
"As much as you're ready for," said Harry.
She turned to stare at him, her eyes flashing, "How much can you … surrender to your cat instincts without changing into a lion?"
He raised an eyebrow, "I don't know, are you sure that's something you want me to try?"
She grinned.
He stared.
"Your broodmare is in heat, what will my stallion do?" she whispered.
He smirked and reached out for his ability to keep all his instincts sorted from each other and from his conscious mind.
Then he reached for her wrist and lifted it between their eyes.
"Parvati Black," he said.
"Yes, Harry."
"You have permission to stun me if I stop understanding English or do anything stupid."
Her eyes widened, then she nodded, "but underage magic…"
"Cannot be distinguished from supervised magic, with enough wands registered to adults in the area."
"Oh!" she said.
He nodded, "first stay safe and happy, then worry about whether you stunned me too hard and whether you want to have a headache potion on hand before you wake me."
She nodded.
"I'll try to stay gentle, and I'll try to respond to instructions and requests, but I … don't trust my English and Lion instincts to interact in a timely manner."
She nodded.
"Do you still want me to try?"
She nodded, with more of a smile than before.
He slid towards her, and rolled her onto her front, she did not go limp, she merely waited to understand, then helped at least as far as she'd understood. He lifted her and folded her arms and legs up underneath her. He used the contraceptive charm, before remembering about the poop problem, then did his best to vanish poop and only poop from the relevant portion of her insides. Luckily he'd already memorised the arithmancy for another charm's 'poop and only poop' transfiguration.
He conjured more lubricant and used his finger to rub and press until she had relaxed her sphincter enough to fit in one, then two, then three fingers (almost but not quite flat). She grunted various bits of surprise or interest or protests and he answered as best he could.
Then he conjured contraceptive lube one more time, trying to aim as deep as he could.
"Seems like about time," he said.
"Finally," she whispered.
He let go of her, lay on top, and reached down to spread her cheeks to slide himself into her.
She moaned.
"Are you doing alright?" he asked again.
"Both not what I expected, and not … legibly different than what I expected," she said, "I'll tell you if it hurts or anything."
"Alright," he said.
And he started sliding over her. And quickly stopped again.
"Hmm?" she said.
"Just a second," he said, and pulled off his shift. Then took her shoulders in his hands and started thrusting again.
She went still for a second, then moved her hands around behind to pull her cheeks apart.
He paused, "More lubricant?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said.
He let go and conjured a lot more, over the entire inside surface of her butt cheeks, and halfway up her back. He rubbed it in some to make sure it was going to stick where he put it, and not all drip off or something.
He took her shoulders again and started moving again.
After what might have been two minutes she wiggled a few times and then started helping.
"Do you want me to change what I'm doing?"
"Not faster, just, a different angle, maybe?"
"Hmm," he said, he tried a few different angles. She tried to help also. He tried to remember what angles had been ideal when he'd tried being girl shaped, he couldn't really remember a specific angle, what he could remember was helping by touching down there … "Um, unless the Um 'current game' is defined otherwise, it's not cheating for you to be using your hands or anything else to touch yourself, other places than what I can reach. And vice-versa."
She froze.
"Likewise, tell me what you want with words, gestures, or just grabbing my hands and moving them where you want them."
She nodded, "Stop talking?"
"What?"
"The headspace I was in," she said, "it hurts a little to try to interpret words or compose them, stop talking."
Yes, they had been doing that, alright, He nodded, "Got it, sorry."
Padma sometimes pushed him into a very talkative head-space, Parvati was allowed to like the opposite, or even just, want to experiment with it.
He tried a few more angles. She helped with that by leaning up or down, encouraged with wiggles and hand gestures and touches, and then went wiggly and twitchy, and unintelligible.
Then limp.
He didn't stop, but he did listen harder in case she actually decided to speak words. Or if that was her preference, non-words.
She stopped and panted for a while, he stopped and waited for her.
She wiggled. That seemed to be permission to continue? She wiggled again.
He started moving, she snorted and tried to get up, or away, or …
He caught her shoulders from around the sides so his wrists might tickle her chest some, and pulled her to him, sliding farther up her back again, he wasn't inside anymore, but…
She squeaked and her head snapped up, he barely avoided having his nose bashed.
She shivered and sneezed.
So everything was alright, he slid back, and forward again, inside this time, she twisted her head, and his teeth closed around her ear. She went tense, but still. He also held his front half still, and resumed thrusting by only flexing his stomach and knees.
She made another squeak, but now it had a lot more growl in it. So she must be fine.
She jerked away and he tasted blood. She tensed and held still again. He caught her ear again, to make sure she was feeling reassured and …
She turned her head toward him to make sure he could get a better bite if he wanted.
He wanted but …
She wasn't a cat damn it, all her sounds and actions should have been interpreted as Human or Horse, not as Cat. He let go and sat up.
"Are you alright?"
"What the hell's up with the biting?" she said.
"Cats like their necks and ears rubbed, part of scent sharing, and reassurance and err foreplay and … I didn't know that until we tried to do this both at once."
"Oh," she said.
"I'm sorry I drew blood, that wasn't what I was trying for. Cats don't have much in the way of lips, I didn't think better."
She nodded, "alright, it's fine, I always wondered how I was going to get that chip in my ear."
"What?"
"I think you're eventually going to bite out another quarter-inch, but it doesn't need to be today, you know."
He drew his wand to clean it up.
"Stop," she said.
"What?"
"Lick it clean first."
"Seriously?"
"Or … more like, lick it clean, then finish sex, then clean it up."
"If you're sure," he said.
"I'm sure," she said.
He leaned over her again, she wiggled her butt to make sure he was deeply settled in her.
He grasped her shoulders to make sure of the same thing. She turned and glanced at him, then breathed out and closed her eyes, and turned her head only halfway back, presenting him with her ear again, this time, meaning to do it.
He took it in his mouth again, this time using his lips and tongue more than his teeth.
My broodmare, my lioness.
He began thrusting again.
She hum-growled again, then made a fake sneezing sound, not at all like her pretend horse snort.
Prusten or chuffle, the sounds that some big cats used to offer friendship instead of purrs.
And this time she'd done that on purpose.
He hum growled back.
He felt her smile from the way the muscles of her cheek moved against his nose. And his climax took him.
.
He let go and slid away.
She shivered, "You don't have to go anywhere," she said.
"I'm going to clean up your ear," he said, "Then we can snuggle-nap or whatever."
He cast the appropriate charms, and inspected, "Hmm, I seem to have marked your ear."
"What?"
"Look in the mirror."
She sat up and looked.
He cast dispelling charms on all the lube he could see and in the general direction of that which he could smell.
"So you did bite farther through than I thought."
"Turn invisible," said Harry.
The flow of his magic twitched, and she turned her head to look at her ear.
"Oh," she said, and leaned closer, "That wasn't the kind of mark I thought you were talking about. What's the conditional on it?"
"I don't know," said Harry, "What was the state of mind you were in when it appeared."
She frowned and took her holster off, that flow stopped, she stared at her ear, then reached up and touched it. She winced, then reached for it with her other hand. She frowned a little and the black of the mark turned tawny gold with sparkles, the eye stayed green. She stared longer and it turned to a brighter green.
There seemed to be a new resonance of his magic in that direction, but not exactly a power drain.
"What did you figure out?" he said.
"It's not your mark or my mark," she said, "It's our mark."
"Hmm, OK," he said, "So what's it hiding?"
"Right now, just the lightning bolt and ear part of itself, the eye part is showing and glowing."
"I wondered about that."
"It looks like I have a beryl earring," she said, "entirely appropriate engagement present, you know."
"You're welcome," he said, "Hmm, good job."
She smirked at him in the mirror, then turned to hug him.
They hugged tight and shivered for several seconds, then she let go and scampered back to the bed to grab their leather underthings. "Here," she said, "Still December."
"Very true," they ducked into them, then slid back into bed and huddled together.
.
"So," said Harry, "what did you think?"
"About what?"
"Sex, anal sex, or sex with … trying to let Sher possess my human form."
"On the one hand, I somehow wish you'd sleep on my back all the time. And … parts of the sex, I wish it could last forever, and other parts, I'm … kind of glad I only have a limited appetite for it. Is it always so messy?"
"Doesn't always need to be, different postures have different risks, and with that one, friction and skin binding up and tearing is one of them, hence lubricant, too much is safer than not enough."
"Sure," she said and sighed.
"I usually use about a fifth of that much lubricant for vaginal sex. Still messy, just less so."
She wiggled around and pressed her legs to his, "I want leggings."
"You mean temperature controlled?"
"Yeah," she said.
"You don't want overalls like I made for the quidditch team?"
"No," she said, "I … guess I actually want stockings, just, wish for them to be temperature controlled."
"Hmm," he said.
"I guess I could apply the warming charms Padma and I learned last winter for the lake task, but … that's different."
"It is," Harry agreed.
"I want to be there when the Weasleys open their presents."
"I might be able to arrange that, how do you feel about being part of a pick-up game of quidditch."
"That could work," she said, "I'm … even close to gryffindor reserve quality, you know."
He didn't know that, what else was she hiding?
"There are different ways to play," said Harry, "if you can catch and not throw they make you seeker instead of chaser, if you can throw and catch but not fly they make you the keeper."
She snorted, "and fly and not throw or catch, they make you a beater."
"Basically," said Harry, "except that hitting requires all the math of catching and throwing, but solved simultaneously. I tried it once, I'm awful at it."
"And all of it is significantly more 'rough and tumble' than anything else I've ever done outside defence alliance."
"I think you might enjoy it," said Harry, "I just … like you said, wouldn't want you to get a mistaken impression of your talents, based on a comparison against the extremely practised Weasleys."
"True," she said, "what I was trying to say, is that, given how rough-and-tumble it is compared to my reputation, and even preferred reputation, I think in front of the Weasleys and/or Lion's-Keep is the only place I'd willingly play."
"Oh," said Harry, "All the more reason to take advantage of rare opportunities to visit uninvited."
"How?"
"There's this beautiful tradition called wassailing."
"We go Christmas carolling?"
"Yes," said Harry, "But apparently in old mage tradition, it's less about singing, and more like visiting to gift food and drinks towards yule feasts that you'd like to attend but aren't going to make it to or something."
"Oh … interesting."
"In modern mage tradition, it's just as common to be dropping off Christmas presents instead."
"Oh, I see."
"Sirius already put together a food box, and I already wrapped up the quidditch armour liners that you helped with, do you want to visit with me to deliver them?"
"Sure," she said, "When?"
"Could be today or tomorrow. We were planning on having gone already, actually," said Harry, "But Sirius got called to work, and we … got busy."
She grinned, "we did," she agreed, "Can we again? One more time before we go down and … try to coax Padma to come along and Mum to let us go?"
"Sure, What do you want?"
"Hmm, I think it's called making out? When we don't take our clothes off?"
"Yes, it is."
She nodded, shivered theatrically, and then started exploring with her hands to find his hips and get her shift wrinkles organised how she wanted.
"Is it your turn to be on top?" he said.
She looked to his face again, "Yes, I suppose it could be."
He smiled and helped her roll on top. They both took a moment to fix their clothes and then started her moving.
It was more leisurely than before. And he could watch her eyes and dimples, instead of trying to infer things about her state of mind from her breathing and posture, and never sure if she was using horse or human body language.
In between kisses they smiled warmly at each other for most of the first minute, then she let her eyes droop closed and tilted her head back farther, and intermittently bit the corner of her lip or panted.
She didn't give any violent indication of another climax, but she did slow down, open her eyes, and sighed instead of panting, then smiled at him.
"Is … is this alright?"
"It's fine," he said.
"It's very different," she said.
"It's allowed to be different," he said.
"I don't mean I dislike it," she said, "I meant …"
She looked away and moved ever so slightly faster.
"You're allowed to want a feast when you have the appetite for a feast, and a snack when you have an appetite for a snack," he said, "you don't have to justify your appetite, only state it plainly enough that we can be cooperating toward meeting it."
She met his eyes again and smiled, "Yeah, that sounds right."
"Have I ever mentioned you have very nice dimples?"
"No," she said, "I don't think anyone has mentioned them since I was like … 4 or something."
"Well, I happen to like them."
They smiled at each other, then she closed her eyes and he felt a tug of magic from first her holster, then her ear. The first felt like the tension of preparing to cast. The second felt like Nim coming in to look through his memories.
Except it wasn't an invasion of his mind, it was an assessment of his magic.
"Does that hurt?" she said.
"Does what hurt?"
"You gasped like I'd hurt you," she said and she stopped moving, "did I?"
"Pain is the wrong analogy," said Harry, "you're accessing my magic, not along the surface like when I cast, or along the web of connections by which I power my runes, but … "
"I can hear and … I think, navigate by? all your active runes."
"I wondered."
"Maybe I can learn to control … something about them," she shrugged, "What does it feel like?"
"You know … confusion or surprise on your skin feels like tickling?"
"Sure."
"And confusion or surprise on your insides is more disturbing."
"Nausea."
"Exactly."
"It makes you sick?"
"It makes me confused, as I get used to it and interpreting it, I presume we could even make an interesting sign language or something out of it."
"Morse code?" she said.
"If nothing else would do," he said, "that's single pulses arranged in time, can you … sculpt a picture or actual letters?"
"Sculpt?"
"Emboss? Does it seem like a surface to you?"
"Oh, I wouldn't have called it a surface, but..."
The sensation went much more densely disorienting, then as abruptly faded.
"Like embossing the surface of a lake, it doesn't last long enough for me to even see what I'm doing," she said, "I still think it's mostly like we are two pools of magic, and we merely overflowed into each other at a single point, a little pushing and we eroded it a little wider, but … that isn't really a doorway to visit, just an option to borrow from each other's resources at need."
"That's what Padma's mark gives her, what does your mark give you?" said Harry, "awareness and control over the marks of the others is a very different thing."
"Hmm," she said, "more experimentation, as we get used to it and figure out what it's for."
"I guess," he said.
"Let's go find Padma," she said and got up.
He copied her.
He was amused how evenly matched their dressing speed was, even though he'd folded his clothes neatly all in one place, and she'd draped all hers over a chair and the foot of her bed.
.
When they exited the residential space, Padma was just climbing down from the loft.
"Well?" said Padma.
Harry wondered exactly what juicy piece of gossip she was asking about, and how much Parvati would choose to tell.
Parvati pushed her hair behind her ear and stood still.
Padma glanced at it, then glanced again, "that's different," she stepped closer to inspect, and touch, and sniff, "So burning it on that small and intense drew blood?"
Parvati shrugged and shook her head. "The blood was a mistake, my dreams tell me the location was inevitable, I wanted your assessment of the colour and … ability."
Padma nodded, "What's your conditional?"
"I didn't specify one."
Padma snorted.
"Not out loud," said Harry, "there's a contract that I thought was clear enough."
Padma shrugged, leaned closer, and hovered the back of her middle finger near her sister's ear.
"For as long as you are … helping him protect … his house, you are … co-ruler of his mark?"
"I think, yes," said Parvati.
"Can you," Padma frowned, "find my conditional?"
"I thought we weren't talking about it anymore."
"That's not what I meant," said Padma.
"You're asking me to prove what I can do," Parvati frowned, "it exists but is not currently active."
"True," said Padma.
"I'm not even sure if it exists in reality, or only … I don't even know words to explain where it exists when it's not on your back."
Padma nodded.
"It means, … you're mine in bed," said Parvati.
Padma nodded, "right—"
Both sisters were frozen and staring at each other.
"But only when I want," whispered Padma.
Parvati hummed and held up her hand in and slowly waved her fingers in something that might have been a wave or an invitation, except it was an order of magnitude too slow.
"And sometimes," said Parvati, "you do want."
Padma nodded.
"Harry," said Parvati, "would it offend you if I called the quidditch game on account of incest?"
Harry snickered, "Not in the slightest."
But that was enough to snap Padma out of whatever her mood was, "What quidditch game is this?"
"We were about to invite you to visit the Weasleys with us, and help me convince Mum about it."
"Oh, why?"
"Wassailing, dropping off presents as if they need them in time for yule, instead of for Christmas, and possibly, gently lobbying for them to be opened now while we can watch."
"Oh," shrugged Padma, "and possibly visiting Luna also?"
"Sure," said Harry.
"Alright," said Padma, "I'd like that. Let me go get dress for being outside. Do you think it will snow?"
"BBC says not until the day after tomorrow," said Parvati, "if you trust them."
Padma shrugged.
"Said it might be in single digits though," said Harry, "Which is close enough for my way of thinking, if the topic is clothing rather than precipitation."
"Certainly," said Padma.
.
They portkeyed to their uncle's house, their mother's elder brother, the one who the magical world would recognise as the heir to the Brice family, (if Grandpa Brice had been a wizard). They did in fact exchange well wishes and seasonal greetings and news, (Parvati was betrothed, this was the lucky young lord.) There were well wishes, there were inspections of her earring, and startlement that it was a magical construct rather than a physical piece of jewellery.
There were apologies that 'the children were out,' apparently "Russel had taken Wedna to the library," they were researching some legend or other, (Regency era,) (might lead to the rediscovery of some powerful magical artefact.) etc.
There was more startlement when Parvati explained that it was a visual effect of a sustained eddy of their magic attaching.
They were quizzed about soul bond symptoms, of which they had none, other than liking each other and hoping to cooperate for the rest of their lives, which made sense, it was their magic which had decided to stay touching, not their minds or spirits.
.
Eventually, they floo'd to the Tonkses' to pick up the food boxes, (and verify the earlier suspicion, that Sirius had yet to return from the ministry or check in with an ETA.)
Harry verified with Aunt Andromeda that they were permitted to visit the Weasleys without Sirius, etc. And then they floo'd there.
...-...
On Wassailers
Ginny was hiding in her room, revising history — well technically, her mind was wandering. And she was getting more done on the runes projects percolating in the back corner of her mind, than on absorbing anything from the history book in her lap, but it was still better than being out where the twins could target her, they were joking around to take their minds off their worry about Dad.
Mum was cooking of course, and in another half hour, Ginny would probably go wash all the dishes again, so that Mum could keep moving without reason to panic.
Ron wasn't doing anything to try to get his mind off anything else, which meant … basically that he would snap at anyone that got in his way, which was mostly Charlie since he was big enough to take it, Whereas Percy … would snap back, but mostly he was just staying scarce, just like Ginny was.
She'd almost rather go see Luna, except … someone would interpret that as 'sneaking off' or 'abandoning her family at a time like this,' which had seemed reasonable the first day or two, but didn't anymore.
Then Mum had sent Ron and Charlie out to de-gnome, even though there wouldn't be any point to it with the ground too frosty for gnomes to even be awake and foraging, or else … it would be much more cruelly effective if the little pests died of exposure trying to make the long trek back to their dens, or trying to dig new dens in the bitter cold.
It might even work if Charlie were allowed to use his wand to summon them out of their dens…
.
The time came and Ginny made her way down to the kitchen to quietly work through another sink-full of dishes before the pile got unwieldy or Mum started running out of measuring cups or anything.
Mum thanked her. And when she arrived at a stopping spot, came over and gave Ginny a hug, then she resumed her cooking.
Something sparked and popped from the other room, and then a bell sounded.
"Fred and George, What in Merlin's name?" shouted Mum.
"Not them," called Percy, "It's the new floo alarm Bill put up."
"Oh," sighed Mum, "Can you answer it?"
"On my way," called Percy, and thumped down the stairs.
A moment later Fred and George started chanting, "Harry's Here!" loud enough to summon Ron and Charlie from the yard.
Ginny washed the last two dishes because damn it. (And also there was already a mob between here and there, and if she was going to have to wait her turn anyway, she might as well put the time to good use.) Then she dried her hands and turned and followed her Mum as far as the kitchen door to peek into the sitting room.
It wasn't just Harry. The Patils were with him, and Parvati was holding hands with Harry, and tucked in her arm she carried a box too small to be anything but something big, which had been shrunk for better transport through the floo.
Harry made introductions all around, and only paused a tiny bit for Charlie. Good job, remembering names, Harry.
"Anyway," said Harry, "Sirius was supposed to be teaching us 'the traditional art of wassailing,' but … he got called into work and didn't know when he'd be back. So, I thought we could visit you first while we're waiting for him since I know you all well enough to visit without Sirius." He tilted his head and Parvati held out a box to Mum, barely bigger than her two fists.
Mum took it and opened it, smiled, then closed it again, moved it to the table, and tapped it with her wand. It was huge.
Mum peeked again, and turned to Harry, "Harry, This is too much."
Harry shook his head, "That's from the Houses of Potter and Black, to the Family of Weasley, a tiny down payment on everything we owe you. Sirius said you'd be able to tell which was which."
Mum chortled, "that I can."
Harry nodded.
"What is it?" said Charlie.
"A beef shoulder," said Mum, "and something for—" she reached into the box and tilted something towards the light, relaxed slightly, then looked up, rolling her eyes, "something for the adults, later."
"Firewhisky?" said Charlie.
Mum shook her head, "Ogden's seasonal: Mulled Rum."
Charlie whistled.
Mum sucked her lips and nodded, "Maybe, if I can find the good punch recipe."
So there was a chance Dad and Mum, Bill and Charlie, wouldn't finish it all tomorrow evening. Or new year's. Whichever. And Dad wasn't home yet.
There were several seconds of silence to let Mum think about where that recipe might have gotten stashed.
.
"Hmm," muttered Parvati, and poked Harry, he looked around and held another box out, vaguely toward Charlie or the twins, whoever bothered to get there first.
The twins were faster on the uptake but quickly realised that it also needed unshrinking and held it out to Charlie. He obliged, and they lifted the lid.
"What's this?" said the twins, "only three presents?" They checked the name tags. "Here George," "Here Fred," "Where's Ron."
"Right here! Hand that over," said Ron.
"Well," said Harry, "I'd be glad to make similar for the rest of you, but … I could only make them Christmas surprises by sneak checking the sizes off your quidditch pads."
"What are they?" said Ginny.
"What do you think?" said Harry.
"You didn't seriously make my brothers …" nightgowns.
Harry nodded.
"Wait," said Ginny. Quidditch pads … then …
Harry shrugged.
Probably more like Captain Johnson's pad liner then.
"So sneaky," said Ginny.
"So Malfoy," smirked Harry.
"Oh!" said Ginny, "Oh, that's just evil."
Everyone looked at her.
"And yet appropriate," grinned Ginny.
"Turn about is fair play," agreed Harry.
Ginny shrugged.
Harry smirked, "And remember Susan, Hanna, Padma, and Luna could copy if they felt like it."
"There is that," said Ginny.
"Anyway," said Parvati, "that's why they're not presents from the Family of Potter, they're just holiday presents from Harry."
Ginny giggled.
Mum cleared her throat, "This doesn't sound good, should I confiscate … whatever these are."
"No," said Ginny, "they aren't evil, the question is whether or not it's fair to wear them during quidditch."
"Clothes, eh," said George.
Fred snuggled one to his cheek, "Oh, I know what they are, Thank you, Harry. Do they have our initials on them?"
"No, but … I can add that if you want."
"What?" said Mum.
Ginny stood on her tiptoes and whispered in Mum's ear, "they're copied from a runes project, think about all those jumpers you've given Harry over the years, only … feel how warm those packages are even though no one's tried to wear them yet."
Mum turned to stare at Fred and George holding them a bit too close for normal packages.
"Ah, I see," she said. And looked at Harry, "Thank you, Harry."
"May we open them?" "Try them on?" "Play quidditch?" "Proper way to thank Harry?"
Mum and Percy huffed at them, Charlie looked around making his own assessment, then lobbied Mum quietly with his eyes.
Something Ginny had long suspected was significantly more effective than the twins' methods.
"It's not like they're a surprise anymore," said Ron, finally getting his opinion past the noise from the twins.
"Oh, alright," said Mum.
They tore into them and showed them off, including Ron bringing his over to let Mum feel how warm it was.
Then a challenge to pick-up quidditch was properly issued and accepted, and everyone disappeared upstairs to change into outdoor wear.
.
Including unexpectedly, that Parvati had followed Ginny, without an invitation.
"Hmm?" said Ginny when she realised she wasn't alone. It wasn't that she minded, she was used to sharing with 5 other girls in Gryffindor, and sometimes at home with Hermione, and all Lion's-Keep which often included Parvati, but this was her own room damn it and… something illegible about Parvati not really belonging in Lion's-Keep except on Harry's arm or on Padma's. Just like Ginny only really belonged while keeping track of Luna or Harry or Susan, but that was a different 'keeping track of' and … all of that had faded and balanced when … she'd started making out with Harry and Luna, and maybe someday soon with Susan too. When they each worked up their nerve at the same time.
Or maybe she was more protective of her space here because of self-defence against the twins' tricks.
"Umm, Can you outfit me to play chaser?" said Parvati.
"Oh," said Ginny, "Sure. Hmm, what layers are you wearing so far?"
Only pretty things, it turned out, except her leather under-thing.
Ginny advised her what to change, Parvati agreed, and suddenly they were more sisters, more… maybe she'd work up the nerve to ask Parvati for a snog sometime, it … it suddenly seemed possible now. Now that Parvati had asked for her help with something … now that she'd loaned her clothes … now that … she'd seen Parvati in pyjamas before, why would this time be different?
But it was.
"I'd better give you my better armour," said Ginny, "not sure how the twins will act around you."
"Hmm," said Parvati, then shivered, "you don't have to do that, but, … yes, whatever you think is ideal, please, They're …"
"The twins," said Ginny with a shrug.
"Hmm, yeah."
They finished lacing up and verifying that their hair was plastered down and imperturbable.
"You're different today," said Ginny, "Are you always different on holidays, or?"
Parvati smiled and pointed to the green glow on her ear, "This morning, Harry and I snogged."
Ginny blinked, "and?"
"My first time in years, my first time not with Padma."
"Oh," said Ginny. First time for real, in other words.
Also, I didn't realise I was that much ahead of her about that.
"He marked my ear by accident," Parvati smirked, "just where my dreams predicted."
"Oh," said Ginny, "What's your conditional?"
"No conditional," said Parvati, "It's always making something invisible, usually a tiny chunk of my ear, but all of me when I want."
"OK…" said Ginny, "That's weird, but not that different than what we already had with our holsters."
Parvati shrugged and turned toward the door.
.
They returned downstairs, Mum was just tucking her handkerchief away, still breathing damply like she'd been crying again. Or had just stepped outside to shake the flour from her apron … but her apron didn't look shaken out, it looked rumpled … and there was an extra wet spot … just at the height of Harry's eyes.
Oh.
"Has Harry gone out?" said Ginny, "or is he still upstairs changing?"
"He's gone out," said Mum. With a tight smile. "Called me 'Mum' again, by accident, then did it again on purpose like it was the last time, like he's afraid that Sirius Black of his is going to make him stop, the first time he catches Harry calling me that."
That doesn't sound like Sirius.
"Weird," said Ginny.
More like, he's concerned that if Dad can get caught up in the war, then anyone can.
.
Parvati was an OK player, she could fly and catch and throw, but not fluidly do more than one at a time. With a little encouragement from Ginny, she soon relaxed and just had fun with it. And after half an hour the others were offering her advice also.
Harry as usual was an excellent receiver and a horrible thrower, and his teammates had to compensate for that, but they were all used to that by now and knew to orchestrate long passes to him, and short passes away from him, and never leaving him to throw a goal when another chaser could be on hand to receive and make the shot.
Padma only watched, as expected, but she made a great audience, and the next time Ginny looked down, Luna was sitting next to her, sharing a huge travel cloak, which might have once been her mum's or perhaps just of a similar style.
.
"Hmm?" said Charlie hovering to a stop, then turned toward the house, cupping a hand behind his ear.
There was a Major Row in progress, and everyone but Mum was outside.
"Is Bill back?" said Fred.
"Sounds like not good news," said Percy, "should we all go, should we wait to be summoned?"
There was an awkward silence.
"We should all go, or send Charlie," said Ron, "playing is no good while we're all worried."
"Right," said Charlie, "So I'm going regardless, as many more of you as want to may come with."
They all moved toward the house, except Luna and Padma.
Harry and Parvati also bunched together, but they followed too.
As they crossed out of the orchard into the yard proper, the noise stopped, then resumed at a much-reduced level.
Mum and Bill were still standing in the sitting room breathing hard. They did not look pleased to be intruded upon.
"What are you doing here?" said Bill looking at Harry. Harry took a step back, and opened his mouth, but didn't seem to know where to start.
Mum whispered something to him, and half of Bill's anger melted away, he whispered a question back and Mum's head shake got him to relax the rest of the way. And he sighed, "Sorry, Harry. I'm on edge, and my work-related, investigative paranoia, isn't the right skill set to be using right now, regardless of how comfortably familiar it is."
"Not a problem," said Harry, "I still want tutoring in basic curse breaking, sometime when we both have free time, and I have my arithmancy and runes NEWTs so it won't waste as much of your time to explain."
Bill chuckled, "Yeah, maybe so."
"Is Dad alright?" said George speaking for them all.
"Yes," said Bill, "they're saying something weird about the venom vanishing, and leaving behind only the damage it already caused, so maybe he'll be home tomorrow, but probably the next day."
Parvati shivered and hugged herself, even putting her hands on her wind bitten cheeks.
"Good," said Harry, and bit his lip.
"Why the long face?" said Bill.
"I don't know," said Harry, "It sounds … suspicious is all, and I hope it's nothing," he shrugged, "I hope it's gone for good, quick recovery, and all that. Probably I don't have any reason to be suspicious, just picking up on the fact that you are. Or they are, or whatever."
They stared at each other.
Finally, Bill glanced at Mum for a second, then back at Harry, "Harry, I need to speak with you."
Harry nodded and followed docilely when Bill took his hand and led him toward the door.
Harry did not, however, let go of Parvati's hand, she made a high pitched startled noise as he started dragging her, but then she got the idea and followed.
Ginny glanced out the window after them, headed toward Dad's shed:
Bill stomped his anger and dragged. Harry followed, stalking, not his prey but observing the wildlife that signalled the news of the nearby jungle. An amalgam of a hunter watching his bird dogs, and the lion he was. Parvati prancing her extreme confidence in her value.
Like Draco, back before he knew that academic achievement, not blood purity was how he could best prove his worth.
Except somehow she made to keep the back of her head up, instead of her nose.
There was no way Ginny could compete with that. Not that she'd want to.
And it wasn't as if Ginny wasn't twice the quidditch player as Parvati, regardless of which position was being offered them. They had different competencies on the AHDT piste, which meant one kind of trying to think faster than Parvati when they were facing each other alone, and a different kind of matching wits when they were doing house pairs or trios.
.
Luna and Padma came in. Luna came and hugged Ginny.
Padma patted each of them on the shoulder then moved to a place by the fire and sat down.
After a moment Luna tugged Ginny in that direction.
Ginny did her best to ignore Charlie and the twins speculating about what got into Bill to make him go after Harry twice in five minutes.
She tried, but the twins could spin conspiracy theories almost as well as Luna, and … actually …
Did Harry make his proxy vote for something crazy? Was there drama going on because Harry had finally chosen a proxy other than whoever Dumbledore had picked a decade ago? Or had he even gotten that far? (Last she knew he'd been hoping to do that, but hadn't known where to start. But it had been weeks since the last Wizengamot meeting. And anyway, that would be a thing Percy would talk at him about, not Bill.
"Ginny!" called Padma from the couch, "Come sit with me?"
Padma might know but might not talk about it in a sitting room where she was a guest. Then Ginny caught Padma's tone and recognised it from Parvati's tendency to sometimes not cross the common room without first glomming onto Lavender, Fey, Lily, Hermione, or lately Ginny or Luna.
Crazy traditions where, 'alone in a room with men of a family,' suddenly becoming 'safe' if attended instead by a woman of the same family. Ginny took the eight steps to place herself near Padma and sat down. Conversely, most of Ginny's brothers were huge (and the twins were actively anti-predictable.) Conversely, Padma was small, at least on the outside, and rarely projected the subtle willingness to exercise, or even resort to violence when necessary that her sister Parvati, and I and Hermione … that gryffindor girls are known for. … no that wasn't fair, Susan for instance, and … didn't Harry have friends or at least acquaintances in slytherin like that? Not that I'm clear who they are, if he never interacts with them outside of class. Parvati would know, she knows everything about everyone … but unless they become competition, I don't really care, and…
What would Padma want to talk about with Ginny? Not fashion, and not her previous year's schoolwork. And Ginny didn't want to talk about next year's school work, except maybe runes.
"How are your parents?" said Ginny.
"It's been intermittently tense," said Padma, "But I think several of the important things are sorted now, and we can all relax and enjoy the holidays. How's your Dad?"
Didn't we just cover … but no, Padma had still been outside during that.
"Still not well, but … better every day."
"Good," said Padma, "Are you alright?"
"Mostly," said Ginny, "As long as I can find something to keep my mind off things. You?"
Padma smiled so hard that her eyes threatened to close. "I'm fine," she said, "but I worried about Luna and you, it's nice to see you again."
"I'm fine, it's only Dad that's at risk."
"Alright," yawned Padma, and apologised, citing staying up too late wrapping presents. Then she started blathering about jewellery styles and stones, especially gold vs. silver, and diamonds vs. pearls.
Ginny knew Parvati had a thing about 'lavender' pearls. And Padma was wearing a foreign-looking but still very stylish gold choker with a tiny diamond in the centre of each plate. Most of the plates were rectangular and connected end to end, like hinges instead of a chain. Only the centre plate was square and connected on adjacent sides, to form a corner just on her collar bone. That one had a transparent green stone instead. Not jade, possibly emerald, or perhaps peridot, Ginny's other birthstone, which she'd never had a chance to hold.
"Actually," said Ginny, "I like sardonyx."
"Oh?"
"And it usually goes well with either silver or gold." Which she only really knew because Aunt Muriel had bought her two pieces, one for her 7th birthday, and one for her 12th.
"Oh," said Padma, "Interesting."
Mum was sending them both very strange looks.
Probably because she was afraid that Ginny would run upstairs to bring down those necklaces to show off, or she thought she'd start on one of Aunt Muriel's tears about whether (and how) birth months controlled people's personalities through the development of their magic and that the traditional birthstone calendars had been designed specifically to play to the strengths and guard against the most glaring weaknesses perpetrated by each month on those who were born in it. But then Aunt Muriel had a lot of disturbing opinions. But if it meant free jewellery every five years or so… Why would I complain? Doesn't mean I'd be so uncouth as to show off my tiny jewellery collection when I'm not fishing for an opening to give some of it away.
Thankfully Luna was taking a turn to explain that she liked coral and some kind of beetle shell, which was best set off by driftwood.
...-...
{End Chapter 20}
This was not meant to be a cliffhanger, it just seemed a good place to stop.
The entire next chapter, and half of the following will also be from Ginny's POV.