July 29th, 2005
The last working day of the month brought its usual Friday morning chaos to the bustling hallways of the MACUSA Auror Office, but for Lorelai the energy was amplified tenfold. It was only just after ten am, but it felt like she'd already worked a full day, and she was on her fifth cup of coffee to prove it.
It was as she was rounding the corner to pass through the bullpen that she nearly collided with Nick, who was backing out of his office with an armful of file.
"Jeez, Lorelai, where's the fire?" he teased, steadying himself. "I'm afraid to ask how many of those you've had today," he added, nodding at the to go cup in her hand.
Lorelai rolled her eyes, falling into step with him easily.
"Very funny. Some of us actually have work to finish before we can skip town, you know," she retorted even though he looked nearly as exhausted as she felt. Both of them had come in early in an effort to make sure they had everything tied up before they were out on vacation the following week, but Nick at least had the full workday. She had to leave around lunch to make Harry's birthday dinner at the Burrow.
"Oh, is that what you've been doing?" Nick asked, his eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. "Here I thought you were just avoiding those forms I left on your desk and being a general menace to society."
The teasing lilt in his voice did nothing to soften the accusation and Lorelai narrowed her eyes, determinedly ignoring the pang of guilt it brought. She knew exactly which forms he was referring to – he'd been pestering her to submit the formal request to reveal the wizarding world to Dean for weeks now, the latest point of contention between them to join the running list.
"I'm not avoiding anything," she snapped, harsher than she meant, "I've just been busy."
The teasing smile on Nick's face faded to a look of concern, and Lorelai wasn't sure which of the two made her more irritated. So rather than dwelling on it she continued walking, letting Nick follow her.
"C'mon, Lorelai. We both know that's bullshit. Those forms'll take all of fifteen minutes to fill out. You've been dragging your feet on this for weeks."
"Yeah, well maybe take the hint and stop pushing then." Nick sighed and before she realized what was happening, he'd gently grabbed her arm and tugged her off to the side. The look he fixed her with made her squirm uncomfortably.
"You're playing with fire, Lorelai, and not just professionally. You can't keep putting this off, and the longer you wait, the harder it's going to be."
"It's complicated," she ground out, glaring daggers back. For once, however, Nick wasn't intimidated, and he met her gaze steadily.
"You want to be stubborn and ignore me? Fine. But you can't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, something's gonna give. And I would think you'd rather him find out on your terms rather than because of some emergency in the field."
There was an undeniable truth in the warning, and Lorelai found herself sighing, the grip she had on her coffee cup tightening as she took a sip.
"I know," she admitted, her voice softening. "I'm thinking about it, alright? Just… back off a little bit, okay?"
Nick still looked skeptical but at least nodded.
"Okay. Just… try not to take too long. For both your sakes."
Before Lorelai could respond a memo zoomed past, nearly clipping her ear and shattering the moment. She swatted at it irritably, grateful for the distraction.
"Yeah, yeah. I've got to go," she said, already backing away, retreating to the safety of the workday. "Ezra needs me to look at something in the lab before I leave."
At that, Nick rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"Tell him I need that autopsy done by noon!"
"Tell him yourself, Nicky," Lorelai called back over her shoulder, hurrying towards the lab and downing more of her coffee as she went.
As she pushed through the heavy doors to the lab the familiar scent of potions and chemicals washed over her while her eyes adjusted to the copious amounts of sunlight streaming through the high windows. The environment was a stark contrast to the cubicles and windowless walls of the Auror Offices and Lorelai much preferred it, though she'd still pick field work over either any day of the week.
"Ezra?" she called out, scanning the room when she noticed he wasn't on the platform in the center. "You in here?"
A grunt from behind a stack of cauldrons to the side of the platform answered her, and Lorelai rounded the corner to find Ezra hunched over a microscope.
"About time you showed up," he complained without looking up from his work. "I was beginning to think you'd skipped out early."
Lorelai snorted, leaning against the workbench. She noted that Ezra's hair was slightly mussed, bags present under his eyes and his clothes slightly rumpled – all a drastic departure from his typically immaculate appearance and signs that whatever he was working on truly had him stumped.
"And miss the chance to bask in your sunny disposition one last time before I'm out? Never."
Ezra's lip twitched in what might have been a smile on anyone else and he finally straightened up.
"Smartass. Take a look at this, will you? I can't make heads or tails of it."
Ezra stepped aside and Lorelai shuffled in, leaning in to look through the lens he'd been working with. She tweaked it a bit and as the image came into better focus her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Huh," she murmured. "That's… unusual. Where did this come from?"
"That mess up in Vermont," Ezra replied. "The one with the exploding cauldrons Langston's been working."
Lorelai hummed thoughtfully, her mind already racing through possibilities while she tried to remember what she could from the briefing that'd gone out earlier that week.
"The charring on this bone isn't consistent with the blast from the cauldrons –"
"Obviously," Ezra cut in, and Lorelai shot him a look before turning back to the lens.
"Have you run a spectral analysis?" she asked, ignoring the way Ezra huffed.
"Of course I have, and I've already run it through every dark detector we have. It's not tripping anything, but the closest match I've found is –"
"Fiendfyre," Lorelai finished for him. Behind her she heard him sigh.
"It is your specialty," he pointed out dryly, but Lorelai was already shaking her head as she straightened up.
"If Fiendfyre did that, that damage didn't happen at the scene. Where's the rest of the file?"
For the next half hour they bounced theories back and forth, pouring over the file and trying to narrow down the possibilities. By the time they were wrapping up Ezra had a list of tests to run, and Lorelai was reaching for her own stack of files.
"This is what I have on the Asheville murders. Nick has Brixton covering most of my cases while I'm out, but Margo's got this one. Tell her the second you have these tests done, and don't let either of them near those remains. Especially Brixton, and –"
"As if I'd let that bumbling idiot anywhere near my lab. Give me some credit, Baudelaire," Ezra scoffed. Lorelai grinned, ruffling his hair before ducking out of reach. As far as the other Aurors went, Brixton was one of the least offensive, but Ezra had even less patience for them than Lorelai did.
"That's why you're my favorite, Ez. Don't tell the others."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Ezra scowled, fixing his hair and glaring daggers at her. "Now go away."
"Love you too, grumpy," she laughed. "See you in a week!"
The department was still abuzz as she rushed back to her own office, intent on wrapping up the last few loose ends before her departure. She wasn't sure how long she'd been there, but the stack of work had significantly dwindled when a knock on the door frame drew her attention.
"Got a minute, Baudelaire?"
Lorelai looked up to find her boss, Oleander Conklin, in the doorway, staring at her with an expression that conveyed both amusement and exasperation. His presence wasn't all that unusual, though lately he'd been pulled out of the office more than usual on some of his own cases. The look on his face, however, didn't bode particularly well.
"For you Conks?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and eyeing him warily. "I've got two. What's up?"
Conklin's lips twitched at the nickname, but he managed to keep a straight face and press on.
"Did you tell Auror Caputo you would, and I quote, 'shove his wand so far up his ass he'd be spitting sparks for a week'?"
"No," she answered without missing a beat, blinking back innocently. Conklin, however, arched an eyebrow skeptically.
"No?"
"No," Lorelai confirmed, her voice steady. "I told him I'd shove his wand so far up his ass he'd be spitting sparks for a month. If you're going to reprimand me, at least get the facts straight."
Lorelai watched Conklin's stern façade crack for a moment, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes, before he quickly schooled his features back into a disapproving frown.
"Baudelaire," he sighed, "you can't keep talking to your colleagues like that. No matter how incompetent they might be." Lorelai shrugged, unrepentant.
"Maybe if Caputo spent half as much time actually doing his job as he does trying to undermine mine, I wouldn't have to. He almost blew our cover this week because he couldn't be bothered to read the damn briefing."
"Just… try to play nice, will you?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly fighting a losing battle against his own amusement. "Or at least find a way to be more subtle. I'm getting tired of having the same conversation every other week."
"Sure thing, Conks" Lorelai agreed, a smile of her own tugging at her lips and her tone making it clear she had no intention of following through.
"And stop calling me 'Conks'."
Lorelai grinned and mock saluted, earning her a head shake from her boss.
"How're you making out with the Asheville murders?" he asked instead of dwelling. "Any updates?"
Lorelai nodded, sitting up straight in her chair again, her demeanor shifting.
"Yeah, actually. I left Purcell with a list of tests and diagnostics I want on the latest sets of remains while I'm gone. I've got a hunch, but I want to see the results first. Should have what I need when I get back."
Conklin frowned but nodded. They both knew her hunches were nothing to scoff at, but Conklin had worked with her long enough to know she wouldn't give them any credit until she had evidence backing her up.
"Alright, good work," he finally said. "Keep me posted. And speaking of when you get back – there's a gala coming up. Fundraising for the lab. I need you there."
Lorelai was groaning before he even finished talking.
"Conks, come on. You know I hate those things. They're so boring, and the press is a fucking nightmare, and –"
"It's not optional, Baudelaire," Conklin cut her off. "The review board will be there. You know, the people deciding on your promotion? Ring any bells?"
Lorelai slumped in her chair, defeated.
"Fine. But I want –"
"Russo's already on the guest list. Trust me, I know better than to send you in without supervision." Lorelai scowled while Conklin chuckled.
"Fine. I'll see you when I get back."
Conklin turned to duck back out into the hallway but paused, looking over his shoulder.
"You mentioned you're leaving early to make your brother's birthday before your trip?" he asked. Lorelai shot him a quizzical look but nodded,
"Yeah, why?"
"Planning on stopping by the Ministry while you're there?" he asked instead of answering her question, and Lorelai nodded again.
"Yeah… Katie's meeting me soon to Floo over there. Why?"
"See if you can get Shacklebolt to write you a reference. Something about your diplomatic contributions. Might help smooth over some of the complaints Kirby's going to bring up to the review board."
"Kirby's still on that?" Lorelai asked, her eyebrows shooting up. "I thought he'd have found a new hobby by now. Like knitting, or maybe falling down a well."
Conklin snorted.
"Just get the reference, Baudelaire. And try not to start an international incident while you're over there, yeah?"
"No promises," Lorelai called after him as he left.
With that, he was gone, leaving Lorelai to ponder the implications of his request. She knew Kirby, the Deputy Director of Magical Law Enforcement, wasn't her biggest fan. They'd butted heads from her first week on the job, but her performance had always managed to speak for itself. If Conklin was worried enough to suggest getting a reference from the Minister of Magic himself though... well, that was something to think about.
Shaking off her concerns, Lorelai glanced at the clock. She still had a few minutes before Katie would be there. Just enough time for one more call. Her fingers moved on autopilot, calling up Dean's contact easily. And as the phone rang, Lorelai found herself holding her breath, anticipation building in her chest.
"Hey there, sweetheart," Dean's familiar drawl came through the line, sending a shiver down her spine. "Miss me already?"
Lorelai couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "You wish, Winchester. Just checking in to make sure you haven't gotten yourself into any trouble without me around to save your ass."
Dean's warm chuckle filled her ear. "Me? Trouble? Never. How's that shoulder of yours holding up?"
"Better," Lorelai replied, unconsciously rolling the joint in question. "Still a bit sore, but nothing I can't handle. How about you? That demon didn't knock any screws loose, did it?"
"Nah, I'm good as new," Dean assured her. "Though I wouldn't say no to you playing nurse again."
Lorelai rolled her eyes, even as a flush crept up her neck. "In your dreams, Winchester."
"Oh, trust me, sweetheart. It is."
They fell into an easy banter, the familiar rhythm of which soothed Lorelai's frayed nerves. In the two weeks since he'd brought her back to New York they'd managed to hook up a few more times. Dean, she'd noticed, seemed to keep finding things that kept him relatively close by, and Lorelai had been happy to join him where she could, letting Katie crash a night here or a night there at Nick's and taking Julia the nights she'd been home. It had been going well. He'd even gone out to dinner with her and Katie one night when he'd been dropping her back off. If it weren't for the guilt that regularly churned in the background, Lorelai would have even been willing to say she was happy.
"Listen," she said eventually, her tone growing more serious. "I'm going to be off the radar for a few days. Got a case that's taking me out of cell range."
It wasn't entirely a lie - she would be out of range, just not for the reasons she was implying. The guilt twisted in her gut once more.
"Oh yeah?" Dean's interest was piqued. "Anything good?"
Lorelai hesitated, hating how easily the half-truths came to her lips. "Nothing too exciting. Just some follow-up on an old lead. Probably a dead end, but you know how it goes."
"Yeah, I hear you," Dean agreed. "You want a hand?"
"I've got this one covered," she said, hoping he didn't read too much into it. "I'll let you know when I'm back in range though."
"Alright," he said, though he failed to entirely hide the unease in his voice. "Just… be careful out there, okay? And let me know if you change your mind."
"Will do," Lorelai promised. "Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone."
Dean's answering chuckle warmed her from the inside out and she could envision the smirk on his face easily.
"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."
As she hung up, Lorelai's eyes were drawn to the stack of forms on the corner of her desk. Nick's words from earlier echoed in her mind, mingling with the guilt that seemed to be her constant companion these days. They were half completed; the basics having been filled out in Nick's blocky handwriting. It felt like the blank ones were mocking her, a glaring reminder of the chasm between her and Dean.
She was saved from her spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. Katie stood there, overnight bag in hand, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Ready to go, Lai?" she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Lorelai smiled, pushing aside her worries for the moment.
"You bet, kid. Let's go."
Lorelai grabbed her own bag from under her desk, and together they made their way through the department, saying quick goodbyes to Nick and promising to see him Sunday. As they approached the bank of fireplaces, Lorelai felt the familiar mix of excitement and apprehension that always accompanied trips home.
The green flames engulfed them, and moments later they were stumbling out into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic in London. The cavernous space hummed with activity, witches and wizards hurrying to and fro, their robes swishing as they moved. The familiar golden statues of the Fountain of Magical Brethren gleamed in the center of the hall, water tinkling softly beneath the din of voices and footsteps.
Lorelai instinctively reached out to steady Katie, even though she was long used to Floo travel. As they dusted themselves off, a familiar figure caught Lorelai's eye. Arthur Weasley was making his way towards them, his thinning red hair and kind smile immediately recognizable even in the crowd.
"Lorelai! Katie!" he called out, his face lighting up as he approached. "Welcome home, girls!"
"Arthur," Lorelai greeted warmly, allowing herself to be pulled into a quick hug. "It's good to see you." The scent of parchment and what could only be described as 'home' washed over her, bringing with it a bittersweet ache of nostalgia. Over the years, Arthur Weasley hadn't changed much, except that maybe there were a few more lines around his eyes.
"How was the trip?" Arthur asked, releasing Lorelai to give Katie a hug as well.
"Oh, you know," Lorelai shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "About as smooth as ever. I think I might have left my stomach back in New York."
Arthur chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, you're both here in one piece, and that's what matters. Now then, Katie, are you ready to head to the Burrow? Molly's been cooking up a storm all afternoon."
Katie nodded eagerly, her earlier excitement returning.
"Definitely! I can't wait to see everyone."
"Excellent," Arthur beamed. He turned to Lorelai, his expression softening slightly. "And you'll be joining us shortly with Harry?"
Lorelai nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
"That's the plan. I'll go check in on the birthday boy now. We shouldn't be too far behind you."
"Alright then," Arthur said, placing a gentle hand on Katie's shoulder. "We'll see you both there. Don't keep us waiting too long, or Molly might send out a search party."
With a final wave, Arthur and Katie made their way towards another set of fireplaces, leaving Lorelai alone in the bustling Atrium. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the familiar yet always slightly disorienting journey through the Ministry.
The golden grilles of the lifts came into view as Lorelai navigated through the crowd. She squeezed into one just as the doors were closing, finding herself sandwiched between a wizard with an impressively long beard and a witch balancing a teetering stack of parchments.
"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services," the cool female voice announced as the lift shuddered to a halt.
Lorelai stepped out into the corridor, her footsteps echoing off the polished wooden floor. The walls were lined with wanted posters, the occupants scowling and occasionally shouting silently as she passed. She made her way down the hallway, muscle memory guiding her to the heavy oak doors of the Auror Office.
Pushing them open, she was greeted by the familiar sight of cubicles and the low hum of conversation. A few heads turned as she entered, some offering nods of recognition. It wasn't all that different from the space she'd just left in New York, though it was distinctly more magical at the Ministry. They still used parchment and quills, and her lack of robes stood out here in a way it didn't at MACUSA. Lorelai scanned the room, her eyes landing on a messy mop of black hair bent over a desk near the back.
"Working late on your birthday, Potter?" Lorelai called out as she approached. "Some things never change."
Harry's head snapped up, a grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of her.
"Lorelai! You made it." He straightened up fully, pulling her into a quick hug. "And don't even start. You're the last person that gets to give anyone a hard time about working too much."
Lorelai laughed, following him into his office a few paces over.
"Exactly!" she said, settling into the chair across from Harry's desk. "Can't go passing along my bad habits to you. Ginny would have my head if I let you work through dinner."
"She'd have to get in line behind Molly," Harry snorted, and Lorelai hummed her agreement.
"Yeah, probably." As Harry began gathering his things, Lorelai's eyes darted around the office. "Hey, is Kingsley around by any chance?"
Harry paused, raising an eyebrow. "Kingsley? What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"
"Me? Trouble? Never," Lorelai scoffed, feigning innocence. "I just need to speak with him. Nothing major."
Harry's skeptical look didn't waver, but he nodded, pulling out a piece of parchment. "Alright, I'll send him a memo. But don't think you're getting out of explaining later."
As Harry scribbled out a quick note and sent it zooming out of the office, Lorelai settled back in her chair. "So, catch me up. What's been going on around here?"
Harry took his own seat and launched into a rundown of recent cases. Lorelai found herself easily slipping back into the familiar rhythm of their conversations - trading information, bouncing theories off each other. It was a dance they'd perfected over the years, their collaborative efforts bridging the gap between their respective magical communities.
"Any more on the demon activity?" Harry asked eventually, and Lorelai frowned.
"Still on the rise," she grumbled, thinking of her latest exploit with Dean. "Just dealt with another possession earlier this week. Still can't explain it. I assume you're still not seeing anything over here?" Harry shook his head.
"No, nothing unusual. Might have something on that perp you sent me the memo on though last week… Morrigan? We think we had a sighting near Calais. I've got someone looking into it."
"You are awesome," she told him appreciatively, and Harry chuckled.
"You know, if you'd just transfer over here permanently, we could do this more often," he teased. Lorelai rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing on her face.
"Nice try, Potter. But then what would New York do without me?"
"Probably breathe easier. Can't blame a bloke for trying, though," Harry sighed, even as his smile remained in place.
Their discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. Both turned to see Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic himself, standing in the doorway. His deep purple robes contrasted sharply with his dark skin, and his gold earring caught the light as he entered.
"Harry, Lorelai," he greeted, his deep voice warm. "It's good to see you both."
"Minister," Lorelai nodded, standing to shake his hand. Despite the formality of the title, there was an underlying current of familiarity in their interaction, and she wasn't surprised when Kingsley waved a hand at her dismissively.
"None of that, Kingsley's fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Lorelai felt heat creep up her neck, suddenly feeling very much like a schoolgirl called to the headmaster's office.
"Actually," she began, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant, "Conklin was hoping you might be willing to write me a reference."
Kingsley's eyebrows shot up, surprise evident on his face. "A reference? What for? You're not thinking of jumping ship, are you?"
Lorelai shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of Harry's curious gaze.
"No sir, nothing like that. There's a promotion on the table," she admitted reluctantly. "Conklin thinks a good word from you might help smooth things over with some of the more... skeptical members of the review board."
Understanding dawned on Kingsley's face, followed quickly by amusement.
"Ah, I see. And would these skeptical members happen to include a certain Deputy Director who's still sore about the support you gave to the article last year blasting Ilvermorny's curriculum and bashing MACUSA for still employing Obliviators?"
Lorelai winced, the memory of Kirby's purple face and raised voice as he'd stormed into her office flashing through her mind.
"It's possible," she conceded. Kingsley chuckled, shaking his head.
"Only you, Baudelaire, could manage to ruffle so many feathers and still be in line for a promotion." His expression softened, a hint of pride gleaming in his eyes. "Of course I'll write you a reference. Merlin knows we need more people like you shaking things up in the system."
Relief washed over Lorelai, though she tried to mask it with a casual shrug. "Thanks, Kingsley. I appreciate it."
"Don't mention it," he replied, waving off her gratitude. "Now, I believe you two have a party to get to. Harry, enjoy your time off. I don't want to see you back here for at least a week, understood?"
"Yes, sir," Harry grinned, gathering the last of his things.
A short while later, Lorelai found herself walking alongside Harry through the bustling streets of London, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. The air was thick with the scent of exhaust and the faint aroma of fish and chips from a nearby pub, a stark contrast to the sterile air of the Ministry.
"You know," Harry said as they turned a corner, "you could have just told me you needed references. I'd have been happy to put in a good word for you too."
Lorelai sighed, shoving her hands into her pockets.
"I know. It's just... I don't want to make a big deal out of it. It's not like I actually care about climbing the corporate ladder or whatever. Asking Kings was Conklin's idea anyway."
Harry shot her a skeptical look. "Right. You don't care. That's why you're jumping through hoops for references and worrying about the review board."
"I'm not worried," Lorelai protested, "Conklin is." But the words rang hollow even to her own ears. Harry's knowing smile told her he wasn't buying it either.
They walked in companionable silence for a few blocks, the sounds of the city washing over them. As they approached the secluded alley they used for Apparition, Harry spoke again, his voice softer.
"It's okay to want this, you know. To care about your career. It doesn't make you any less... you."
Lorelai felt a lump form in her throat, Harry's words hitting closer to home than she cared to admit. She swallowed hard, forcing a smirk onto her face.
"Careful, Potter. Keep talking like that and people might start to think you've gone soft."
Harry rolled his eyes, but there was fondness in his exasperation.
"Merlin forbid. Come on, let's get to the Burrow before Molly sends out a search party."
With a quick glance to ensure they were alone, they disappeared with a soft pop, reappearing moments later at the edge of the Weasleys' property.
The Burrow loomed before them, its mismatched floors and magical additions a familiar sight that never failed to bring a smile to Lorelai's face. Warm light spilled from the windows, and the sound of laughter and chatter drifted through the air.
As they approached the front door, it flew open, revealing a beaming Molly Weasley.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, pulling first Harry and then Lorelai into bone-crushing hugs. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost."
"Sorry, Molly," Lorelai said, breathing in the comforting scent of cinnamon and fresh-baked bread that always seemed to cling to the Weasley matriarch. "Got held up at the Ministry."
Molly tutted, ushering them inside. "Well, you're here now. Come in, come in. Everyone's waiting."
The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity. Pots and pans clattered on the stove, stirring themselves as savory aromas wafted through the air. The long table was already groaning under the weight of dishes, and familiar faces turned to greet them as they entered.
As Molly continued to fuss over them Lorelai was struck by the familiar scents of home-cooked food and the unique blend of magic and comfort that permeated the Burrow. Her eyes swept over the crowded kitchen and living room beyond, taking in the sea of familiar faces.
Bill and Fleur were there with their children, Charlie was animatedly discussing something with Hagrid, and Percy was deep in conversation with his wife Audrey. Ron and Hermione were helping Ginny wrangle a squirming James, while George and Angelina's kids darted between legs, giggling. Nolan caught her eye from across the room, raising his glass in greeting. Even Andromeda was there with Teddy, the young boy's hair cycling through a rainbow of colors as he laughed at something Arthur was saying.
"We're eating outside, but Bill and Charlie only just finished setting up the table," Molly explained. "Ron, be a dear, and get your brothers to help bring everything out."
Before Lorelai could actually greet anyone else a small blur of dark hair launched itself at her, nearly knocking her off her feet.
"Aunt Rory!"
"Oof! Hey there, Freddie," Lorelai laughed, scooping up her nephew and spinning him around. "Ah man, you've gotten so big! What are they feeding you?"
Freddie giggled mischievously but hugged her tightly.
"Or is it your grandmother's doing with all of her home cooking?" Lorelai teased, winking at Molly who was beaming at them even as she started directing the others.
As Freddie scampered off to rejoin his cousins, Lorelai found herself swept into a whirlwind of hugs and greetings. George enveloped her in a tight embrace, his familiar scent of gunpowder and cinnamon washing over her.
"About time you showed up," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We were starting to think you'd gotten lost in the Ministry."
Lorelai rolled her eyes, punching his arm lightly. "Please, as if I'd miss this. You know how much I love a good Weasley gathering."
As she moved through the crowd, exchanging hugs and hellos, Lorelai felt a familiar ache in her chest. The Burrow was filled with so many memories, both joyous and painful. Every corner seemed to hold an echo of Fred's laughter, a ghost of his presence. She could almost see him, leaning against the doorframe with that crooked grin of his, ready with a quick quip or a new prank idea.
But as she watched Angelina chase after little Roxanne, George's arm slung casually around her shoulders, Lorelai felt a different kind of warmth bloom in her chest. This was still her family, even without Fred. They had weathered the storm together and come out stronger for it.
As the evening progressed, Lorelai found herself constantly in motion, pulled into various conversations and activities. She helped Hermione wrangle a squirming James while Ginny took a much-needed break, laughed at Charlie's animated retelling of his latest dragon encounter, and even managed to coax a rare smile from Percy with a well-timed joke about cauldron bottom thickness.
The Burrow buzzed with laughter and chatter, the air thick with the scent of Molly's cooking and the unmistakable warmth of home. Yet, even as she laughed at Charlie's dragon tales and cooed over little James, Lorelai found her thoughts drifting unexpectedly to Dean. She wondered what he was doing at that moment - probably in some dingy motel room, cleaning his guns or researching his latest case. The mental image brought a small smile to her lips, which quickly faded as a pang of longing hit her.
It caught her off guard, this sudden ache for Dean's presence. She was used to compartmentalizing, keeping her magical life and her... whatever Dean was... separate. But sitting here, surrounded by family and laughter, she couldn't help but wish he was beside her, his arm slung casually around her shoulders, trading jokes with George and charming Molly with his easy smile.
The realization was unsettling, but it didn't send her spiraling the way it might have in the past. Instead, it settled in her chest, a warm, slightly terrifying acknowledgment of just how much Dean had come to mean to her.
As she watched Percy and Audrey across the room, their hands intertwined as they chatted with Bill and Fleur, Lorelai felt a twinge of jealousy. Audrey, a Muggle like Dean, had seamlessly integrated into the magical world. She and Percy had managed to bridge that gap, to build a life together despite their different backgrounds.
But Dean wasn't just any Muggle, Lorelai reminded herself. He was a hunter, raised to view anything supernatural with suspicion at best, hostility at worst. The thought of revealing her true nature to him still filled her with dread. What if he couldn't accept her? What if the man who made her feel more alive than she had in years looked at her with disgust or fear? She'd be stupid not to see that he had feelings for her too, but she'd also seen firsthand that he was John Winchester's son through and through. She wasn't confident what was between them would be enough to overcome years or preconceived notions and prejudice.
Yet, even as these worries churned in her gut, Lorelai couldn't deny the depth of her feelings for Dean. He had slipped past her carefully constructed defenses, bringing light and warmth into corners of her heart she thought long since closed off. It was terrifying, yes, but also exhilarating. For the first time in years, Lorelai found herself daring to hope for something more.
Her musings were interrupted by Nolan, who appeared at her elbow with two glasses of firewhiskey.
"You looked like you could use this," he said, offering her one of the glasses. "You okay? You looked a million miles away."
Lorelai accepted the drink gratefully, taking a sip and savoring the familiar burn.
"Just enjoying the chaos," she replied mildly, gesturing to the group scattered about the yard. "It's been too long since we've all been together like this."
Nolan nodded, understanding passing between them without words. He jerked his head towards a quiet corner of the garden. "Want to take a walk?"
Grateful for the excuse to step away from the crowd for a moment, Lorelai nodded. They made their way through the throng of people, Nolan's hand a comforting presence on her lower back as he guided her towards a secluded spot near the old apple tree.
As they settled onto the worn wooden bench, Lorelai felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. She and Nolan had always been close, two peas in a pod growing up. They shared the same quick wit, the same penchant for mischief and adventure. Even now, with the strain of recent years between them, there was a comfort in his presence that she couldn't deny.
"So," Nolan began, his tone light but his eyes searching. "How've you been, really? And don't give me that 'I'm fine' bullshit. I know you better than that. Even when I came to drop Katie off, I could tell you weren't giving me the whole story."
Lorelai sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"I've been... okay. Busy with work, you know how it is. Katie and Julia keep me busy but they're good. I just... I miss this, you know? Us. When did we stop talking?"
Nolan's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. They both knew the answer already – it was somewhere between her stint in rehab and his caving to their uncle's grand plan for his future.
"I know. I'm sorry, Lorelai. I've been a shit brother lately, haven't I?"
"No worse than I've been a sister," Lorelai admitted with a rueful smile. "I guess we both got caught up in our own lives. I just... I miss you, Nol. I miss having you to talk to about everything."
Nolan reached out, taking her hand in his. His palm was warm against hers, achingly familiar. "I'm here now. Talk to me."
For a moment, Lorelai was tempted to spill everything. To tell him about Dean, about the turmoil of emotions she'd been grappling with for months. But the words caught in her throat. She wasn't ready, not yet. And there was still that nagging voice in her head that wasn't ready to totally let him back in. So instead, she squeezed his hand, offering him a small smile.
"Maybe another time. For now, just... tell me what's new with you. How's work? Still enjoying the corner office?"
It pained her to willingly ask about the family business, but Nolan's voice was soothing, even if it lacked the genuine passion and excitement she wanted for him. He was still her exuberant, larger-than-life brother, and Lorelai listened, letting his animated chatter wash over her. She'd missed this, the easy back-and-forth between them, the way Nolan's enthusiasm could light up a room.
As they talked, catching up on months of missed conversations, Lorelai felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. They might have drifted apart somewhat, but the foundation of their relationship was still strong. With a little effort, she hoped one day they could bridge the gap that had grown between them.
Eventually, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Molly calling everyone to the table. As they made their way back to the crowded garden, Nolan threw an arm around Lorelai's shoulders, pulling her close.
"Let's not let it go this long again, yeah?" he said softly. "I've missed you too, sis."
Lorelai leaned into him, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the summer evening. "Deal," she agreed, feeling lighter than she had in months.
As the evening wore on, the Burrow's garden transformed into a magical wonderland. Fairy lights twinkled in the trees, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The air was filled with the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass, mingling with the lingering aroma of Molly's delicious cooking. Laughter and chatter echoed through the night, punctuated by the occasional pop of a magical firework courtesy of George.
Lorelai found herself settled at a table with George and Ron, a glass of elf-made wine in hand. The remnants of Harry's birthday cake, a masterpiece in the shape of a Golden Snitch, sat nearby. As she took a sip of her wine, savoring the rich flavor, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. These moments, surrounded by family and laughter, were precious.
"Wait 'til you hear about this one," Ron laughed, smile splitting his face as he and George continued filling her in on the latest batch of products they'd been working on. "It's brilliant, if I do say so myself."
Lorelai raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued.
"Alright, let's hear it then. What's the latest from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" she asked, and George rubbed his hands together gleefully.
" Scalemorph Suds. Looks like ordinary body wash, right? But soon as you're out of the shower? Bam! Instant scales. And not just any scales, mind you. We're talking full-on, impossible-to-remove, dragon-worthy scales."
"The best part," Ron chimed in, leaning forward conspiratorially, "is that they're completely impervious to any normal removal methods. Only our specially crafted antidote can get rid of them."
Lorelai's eyes widened, a mix of admiration and amusement dancing in their depths.
"That's awesome! You have a working prototype?"
George beamed, clearly pleased with her reaction, as he fished into a pocket.
"Who do you take us for? Of course we do," he told her, tossing her a small bottle easily. "We're in the final phases of product testing, though it's more a formality, and working out the kinks to mass production."
As they continued to discuss the intricacies of the new product, Lorelai felt a familiar warmth in her chest. This easy banter, the shared excitement over magical inventions - it was a reminder of simpler times, of late nights in the Gryffindor common room brainstorming prank ideas with Fred and George.
The conversation flowed easily, touching on various aspects of the business. Ron filled her in on the latest sales figures, his pride evident as he detailed their expansion into new markets. George regaled her with tales of product testing gone hilariously wrong, his animated gestures nearly knocking over a nearby lantern.
As the laughter from George's latest anecdote died down, Lorelai felt a sudden weight settle in her stomach. She knew she needed to broach a more serious topic, one that had been weighing on her mind even before her meeting with Bobby.
"Listen," she began, her tone growing more serious. "Speaking of new products, it's still in the early stages but there's something I wanted to give you a head's up about."
George and Ron exchanged a quick glance before turning their full attention to her. They knew that tone – it usually meant something big was brewing.
"What's up, Lorelai?"
"I'm working on something for MACUSA," Lorelai continued, choosing her words carefully, "but it would be Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes property if I pull it off. It's still in the very early stages, all theoretical right now, but... it could make some waves."
"What kind of waves are we talking about here?" Ron asked, leaning forward, his brow furrowing slightly.
Lorelai took another sip of her wine, buying herself a moment to gather her thoughts.
"Hopefully none, but, well… could be big ones. We've been dealing with a rise in demonic activity in the States. I'm looking into more... permanent solutions than standard exorcisms."
George's eyes widened slightly. "Permanent as in...?"
"As in eliminating the threat entirely," Lorelai confirmed, her voice low. "It's tricky. I have some theories to vet out first that might work without creating too much of a stir… but I think to make it work we're talking about modifying some pretty heavy-duty magic. The kind that could raise some eyebrows in certain circles."
She didn't need to elaborate further. Both George and Ron understood the implications. It wouldn't be the first time she'd pushed boundaries… especially in the pursuit of eliminating a threat. They'd fought side by side with her, after all. Ron, drawing on his experience as a former Auror, nodded slowly.
"I can see why you're giving us the heads up. If this goes sideways..."
"It could potentially impact the business," Lorelai finished for him. "I'm trying to go about this as carefully as possible, but given my stake in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, I wanted you both to be aware."
George reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "We appreciate the warning, Lorelai. You know we trust your judgment. Just... be careful, yeah? This sounds like dangerous territory."
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Lorelai found herself marveling at the easy rapport between the three of them. Despite the years and distance, they still worked seamlessly as a team, balancing each other's strengths and weaknesses. George's inventive mind, Ron's strategic thinking, and her own unconventional approach to magic had always made for a formidable combination. She'd been nervous when she'd originally made the decision to take a step back and take the job with MACUSA, but Ron had proven to be the answer to all her worries, and she'd never once regretted it.
Eventually, Ron drifted over to Hermione, an easy smile on his face Lorelai had only ever seen him wear around the bushy-haired witch. She was still sipping her wine when George caught her eye, a familiar glint in his eye that always made her nervous.
"So," he asked quietly, "did I hear right from that little sister of yours that you're actually still seeing Dean? And that he's a hunter, and you've been working with him to boot?"
Lorelai felt her heart skip a beat at the mention of Dean's name. She hesitated, glancing around to make sure they were truly alone before answering. "Yeah," she admitted reluctantly. "Turned out we were in town on the same case back in Tullahoma."
George's face lit up, a grin spreading across his features. "That's great! Lorelai, that's -"
"I still haven't told him about magic," she cut in quickly, watching as George's excitement dimmed slightly. "I know, I know. I need to. It's just... complicated."
George's expression softened, understanding and concern warring in his eyes. "I know it is," he said gently. "But Lorelai, you deserve to be happy. And even back at your birthday, it was clear that this bloke makes you happy. Don't let fear hold you back."
Lorelai nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I'm trying," she whispered. "It's just... hard."
George pulled her into a quick hug, the familiar scent of gunpowder and wrapping around her like a comforting blanket once more. "I know," he murmured. "But you've got this. And hey, if he gives you any trouble, just let me know. I've got a whole shop full of products perfect for revenge."
Lorelai laughed, pulling out of the hug with an eyeroll.
"Thanks, George. I don't know what I'd do without you."
And as the party began to wind down, Lorelai found herself swept up in a whirlwind of goodbyes and hugs. She clung to each embrace a little longer than usual, savoring the warmth and love of her chosen family. When it came time to leave, she and Katie followed Harry, Ginny, and little James through the Floo network to Grimmauld Place, where they'd be staying for the night.
The quiet creaking of Grimmauld Place was a stark contrast to the bustling sounds of the party, and Lorelai found she was grateful for the peace as she settled into the guest room alone. The familiar scent of old books and polished wood filled her nostrils, a comforting reminder of her time spent here during darker days, though the renovations Harry and Ginny had done left the place nearly unrecognizable. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the duvet, lost in thought.
The events of the evening played through her mind like a bittersweet melody - the warmth of family, the laughter of old friends, and the undercurrent of longing for something just out of reach. As she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, Lorelai's last conscious thought was of Dean. She wondered what he was doing at that moment, if he was safe, if he ever thought of her the way she found herself thinking of him. With a soft sigh, she surrendered to the pull of sleep, the complexities of her two worlds fading away into the quiet night.
I know, I'm late, I'm sorry! I really had been hoping to keep to my schedule but it just was not possible this week.
Thank you all for reading! I know I've said it before, but the feedback you've all been giving me on this story means so much to mean and makes my day 😊 So thank you!
Hope you all enjoy!