Facing Danger
Chapter 29: The Greatest Gift (Arc 6)
By Anne B. Walsh
“You’ve got to get around to it eventually, Harry.”
Harry jerked upright from where he’d been staring into the flames in the common room’s fireplace. “Hello to you too,” he said sourly as Draco dropped into a chair across from his own. “Get around to what?”
“You know what,” Ginny said from his other side, draping herself across his chair’s arm and from there into his lap. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
“And you’re trying to distract me from it?” Harry rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I may never remember at this rate.”
“You’re going to make us spell it out, aren’t you?” Draco said with a sigh.
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, so yes.”
Ginny twisted until she was facing him, her expression unusually sober. “Harry, someone betrayed us,” she said. “Someone told Umbridge about the DA, and where to find us.”
“Oh.” Harry looked away. “This.”
“Yes, oh, this.” Draco batted a wadded-up scrap of parchment into the air, keeping it aloft with flicks of his finger. “Whoever it was, they got around Neenie’s spell on the members’ list somehow. She looked at it, and she thinks it was probably done by attrition. Whoever it was didn’t loose the pixies all at once, just dribbled it out bit by bit, and none of the bits were enough to set the spell off by themselves.”
“And because it was so divided up, the spell didn’t recognize that it was all part of a whole,” Harry finished. “Right?”
“Right.”
Harry eased out from under Ginny, leaving her crosswise in the chair, and sat down with his back against its leg. “You don’t have to bother with the ‘whoever it was’ bit,” he said quietly. “I already know.”
“Harry—” Ginny began.
“Look, just let me finish, all right?” Harry directed his attention to the fire again, shaping it into the outline of a face, while he tried to get his thoughts into coherent order.
“I made a mistake,” he said after a moment. “Thinking I cared about her that way. Maybe it was a normal mistake to make, but it was still a mistake. And even after I tried to fix it, it came back to bite us. Not just me, but all of us.” He held up a hand, forestalling his brother and his mate as they both started to speak at once. “I know it isn’t my fault. I couldn’t have known what she’d do. I couldn’t have known how it’d turn out. But...”
“But you still feel responsible,” Ginny finished, her hand resting against his shoulder. “You still feel like you should have done something to stop it.”
Harry nodded without looking away from his fiery face.
“Which makes you either...” Draco’s wad of parchment sailed into the fireplace, straight through Cho Chang’s left eye. “A hero, a leader, or a plain old good person. Any guesses?”
“Where’s none of the above?”
“Not on the list. For a reason.”
“Should be,” Harry muttered.
Small, powerful hands clamped gently onto his skull, and his head was tilted back until it rested on the cushion of the chair. Ginny’s upside-down visage came into view. “Enough,” she said firmly. “You’re wallowing.”
“Am not.”
“Are so. And if you try to take this any further I’m shutting you up.”
“Ah-ha. Incentive.” Harry grinned. “Am not, am not, am—”
Ginny followed through on her threat, and both of them were quite thoroughly occupied for the next few moments. When Harry came up for air, Ginny had slithered herself down into his lap again and wrapped her arms around him.
“Are so,” she whispered into his ear. “And it’s not very attractive.”
“You could’ve fooled me.” Harry held her close for a long breath, feeling her pulse beat in counter to his, then relaxed against the chair. “You’re right. You’re both right. How do you do that so often?”
“Practice.” Draco flicked another parchment wad into the fire. “And the fact that neither of us is quite as high-profile as you, so we sometimes get the luxury of making mistakes that only affect us personally.”
“Lucky sods—ow!”
“You deserve it for using that kind of language.” Ginny glared at him. “And I barely touched you.”
“But it hurts,” Harry whined outrageously. “Kiss it better, Mummy? Please?”
Ginny kissed her fingertips, then brushed them across the ear she’d smacked only a moment before.
Harry sighed. “Not quite what I had in mind.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Ginny lifted her chin. “I have absolutely no intention of engaging in such scandalous behavior in the common room.”
“Really now?” Draco bounced a third parchment wad off Ginny’s forehead. “Who was that snogging my brother a minute or so ago?”
“It must have been my evil twin Virginia. She pops in every now and then to do something like that.”
“Pops in?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “At Hogwarts?”
“Yes. At Hogwarts.” Ginny giggled. “Or didn’t I mention she’s a house-elf?”
“So you have an evil house-elf twin?”
Ginny nodded virtuously. “She transfigures herself into a human when she wants to make everyone think it was me.”
Draco dropped his head into his hands. “I’m witnessing the birth of a monster,” he said around his fingers. “Lucky me.”
“Oh, Draco, don’t call Virginia that.” Ginny pouted. “I mean, just because she’s evil doesn’t make her a monster!”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Well, what did you mean?” Harry inquired.
“Never mind. You’re sure you’ve got this Cho thing under control?”
“Positive.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. “In fact, I might just have an idea about how to handle it. But it needs some time to mature.”
“All right. As long as you’re thinking about it.”
“Oh, I am. Trust me, I am.” Harry turned his attention back to Ginny. “So tell me more about Virginia. What kinds of evil things does she do and blame on you?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. She likes to steal people’s socks...”
xXxXx
Albus Dumbledore signed his name to the last piece of parchment and set it aside, a small feeling of contentment finding its way into his heart. There was still a war to fight, but at least now he had only one enemy rather than two. Rufus Scrimgeour would not be the easiest ally he had ever coordinated with—not least because of Dumbledore’s need to conceal his amusement at Rufus’ unintentional duplication of another wartime leader of the wizarding world—but he would be an ally, and a cunning and intelligent one.
The thought of that other leader, and the people most closely associated with him, sent Dumbledore’s thoughts in two directions at once. He tapped his forehead with a finger, lightly chiding his distracted mind, and picked up a quill to scribble a note to himself about one line of thought before devoting his full attention to the other.
Now that Hogwarts is unquestionably mine again, perhaps it is time to make a change in the teaching staff. I should have done so years ago, but I have allowed myself to be distracted. I rationalize that it matters little in any case, that the students are unlikely to be interested in such a dry subject, but I know full well that a truly good teacher could make it come to life. Literally, if he or she is gifted enough.
And the person I have in mind certainly is.
Dumbledore smiled to himself. Though, in all honesty, she would not likely have accepted this post if I offered it to her before this year. She may not accept now.
Still, the offer will be made. With any luck, she will accept. And then I will have a full, and fully qualified, staff for the first time in many years.
The smile grew. War or no war, Hogwarts will give its students the best magical education in the world. In all areas, now.
And I will have one thing in my life of which I can be unreservedly proud.
xXxXx
The Hogsmeade train station swarmed with students, chattering and craning their necks to see if the train was coming. It could almost have been a normal first day of holidays.
But it’s not. Hermione shifted Crookshanks’ basket in her arms. Regular genius, that took to notice.
Still, recognizing the specific differences took, if not genius, at least keen powers of observation. The talk was more subdued than usual, for one thing. Normally the sound assaulted her ears, always good and more sensitive than ever since her Animagus transformation third year. Also, people kept glancing over their shoulders as though they expected Voldemort or the Death Eaters to come popping out of thin air at them.
“The train,” she murmured to herself.
“What?” Ron turned to face her.
“Nothing, I was just thinking aloud.”
Ron shrugged. “Share?”
Hermione dropped her voice, setting Crookshanks’ basket on the ground and waving Ron closer. “Voldemort knows when the train runs to and from Hogwarts,” she said in a half-whisper. “What’s to say he couldn’t attack it?”
“It’s warded up to here, even normally.” Ron drew a hand up level with his own eyes, well above Hermione’s head. “And I’m sure Dumbledore’s reinforced the wards already.”
“But if he hasn’t?” Hermione shuddered all over once. “We’re just so exposed. Practically out in the open. And if something came at us from up front or in the back, we’d never see it until it was there.”
“And when it gets there, we kill it,” Ron said. “Why else have we been practicing all year?”
Hermione bit back an angry reply. “We could do damage, yes,” she said. “But if Voldemort wanted to stage a terror attack... what would stop him blowing up a bridge while we’re on it?”
Ron swallowed. “You’ve got a point there.” He rubbed the tip of his nose for a moment. “I think Dad and Mum need to hear about this,” he said finally. “And your parents, too. They’ll listen to us, and Dumbledore listens to them.”
Hermione nodded, her mind already reaching out to the possibilities. “I suppose a Unity Spell might be a place to start,” she said. “Making the train and the tracks and us, while we’re aboard, all parts of one magical system, so that if anything affects any part of it, the other parts know and can move to fix the problem.”
“Erm.” Ron started rubbing his nose again. “But back to your idea. If...” His voice dropped in volume, but remained firm. “If Voldemort hid out somewhere and cast the spell that blew the bridge just as the train was on it, there wouldn’t be any warning. It’d just be boom, and gone. There’ll have to be actual spell-detectors and repellers on there as well.”
“Of course.” Hermione scooped up Crookshanks’ basket again as the train pulled into the station in a great cloud of steam. “But the Unity Spell would stop anything being done ahead of time, and that cuts down on what it could be...”
Discussing possibilities and necessities, they fell in line for the train, and failed entirely to see the grin shared by Harry and Ginny just behind them.
xXxXx
Corona Gamp stood just behind Danger Granger-Lupin, watching the Hogwarts students appear out of the seemingly solid wall between platforms nine and ten.
So strange. The Muggles, even the ones who see it directly, never seem to notice.
A dark head of hair caught her eye, and she waved. Su Li turned her head and smiled as she saw Corona, and Corona smiled back, amazed at the rush of warmth in her chest. Su had taken the initiative of writing a letter to “my brother’s newest friend”, and Corona had gladly written back, the two of them sustaining an almost weekly correspondence over Hogwarts’ first term.
I will always miss my own sister, but it is wonderful to be the elder, the guide, for once.
Su vanished in the crowd for a moment, then emerged at its front edge, pushing her trunk in front of her on a trolley. Her head tracked back and forth even as she started towards Corona, and Corona had to cover a smile.
“Brian could not be here,” she said as Su came into earshot. “Information arrived just as we were preparing to leave that he had to remain behind to discuss. He asked me to take you on ahead—if you would not mind?”
“Of course not.” Su smiled brightly. “That means I get to introduce you to our parents, and help them tell you all the stories he doesn’t want you to hear.”
Corona chuckled. “I have been looking forward to this.”
“I just bet.” Su pulled a scarf from the pocket of her coat and wrapped it around her neck. “How are we getting home?”
“I have money for the Muggle Underground.” Corona tapped her handbag confidently. “And there is a stop not far from the Leaky Cauldron. We can manage your trunk between us for the distance, and Floo from there.”
“That makes sense.” Su pushed her trolley back into motion. “You mentioned in one of your letters that you’d been learning about Muggle London. I guess riding the Underground was part of it?”
Corona kept pace, nodding to Danger in passing before turning her attention back to Su. “Yes, and Muggle money as well. It is not so very different from ours, though the numbers they use are strange and I find it hard to understand why anyone would make money out of parchment...”
xXxXx
Danger threw Corona the thumbs-up, then looked back towards the wall just in time to see Ron and Hermione emerge from it, each freeing a hand from his or her trolley every few seconds to better emphasize a point.
“Dear heavens,” Molly murmured from beside her. “Do I see what I think I see?”
“I don’t know. What do you think you see?”
“My son and your sister, not fighting. Discussing with spirit, certainly, but not fighting.”
“I think I see it too, so yes, I think you do see what you think you see.” Danger frowned. “If that made any sense at all.”
“About as much as Molly made in the first place,” Aletha put in. “Which is to say, not very much.”
Molly sniffed. “I beg your pardon.”
“And I grant it.” Aletha chuckled, then turned her attention to the arriving cubs. “Yes, yes, hello to you too... no, love, Dadfoot’s still at work, and Moony’s back at Headquarters discussing something with Mad-Eye and Brian Li and Emmeline Vance... I don’t know, we’ll find out when they’re ready to tell us, but there is a surprise waiting for you...”
“Two surprises, actually,” Danger put in, hugging Hermione and Harry at once. “And good ones, for a change. So let’s move along, everyone—the sooner we get going, the sooner we get there!”
xXxXx
Meghan stood in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and let the chaos of her friends and family swirl around her. She knew her Dadfoot didn’t like to be here, that it reminded him of a very unhappy part of his life, but she was in the middle of that same part of her own life, and to her, the house meant something totally different.
It means yesterday, and all the yesterdays before that. All the people who came before me, and are part of me. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply of the scent of old wallpaper and roasting meat. Maybe they wouldn’t have approved of me, of who I am and what I am. But maybe they would. They can’t all have been bad.
Besides, even if they were, they’re gone now. It’s Dadfoot’s house, and someday it will be mine. That means we can decide what to do with it. We can decide what it is and what it becomes. Maybe, after the war’s over, we’ll sell it.
Or maybe not. She peeked with one eye, scanning back and forth across the crowd until she found the person she wanted. Maybe Neville and I will live here when we’re married.
A thrill ran through her at the thought, as it always did. Hermione and Ginny and Luna had passed along certain relevant information long ago, and Meghan knew for a fact that she would never want any boy but Neville to do that with her.
Anyone else would probably make me feel so strange I’d start giggling, and then he’d think I was laughing at him... and that would be very, very bad.
But that wasn’t what marriage was all about. It wasn’t even the most important thing about a marriage. The most important thing about a marriage, Mama Letha had told her years ago, was making sure the other person was happy.
As long as what makes them happy isn’t hurting you. That’s bad.
So the most important things about being with Neville, Meghan had discovered for herself.
Like how to snuggle with him so he doesn’t mind it. Where to put my hands when we’re kissing. When to smile and bump shoulders to make him feel better, and when to let him be. Every boy is different, so I guess every girl has to work out how to make her boy happy for herself.
She wiggled her shoulders against the wall, feeling its solid support behind her. Do you want me here, house? she asked it in her mind. Will you be happy if I come to live here when I’m married, and have babies here, and make you alive again?
The house didn’t answer, but somehow Meghan thought it would like that a lot.
Houses are made to be lived in. So a house that’s not being lived in must get lonely.
I hope the Den isn’t lonely for us...
She giggled once at her own silliness and opened her eyes. Most of the Pride was already gone, Fred and George were just vanishing up the stairs, and Neville was beside her, waiting patiently. “Did you have a good imagine?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Very good. Do you think houses get lonely if their people go away?”
“Maybe. But there could be other houses that prefer to be alone, and get irritable when there are people in them.”
“That’s one way poltergeists get born,” Luna said, coming up behind them. “When houses don’t like their people.”
Meghan frowned. “Does that mean Hogwarts doesn’t like us, if Peeves is there?”
“No. Peeves happened because students at school are always upset about something. Homework, tests, girls, boys, clubs, Quidditch, even laundry and meals. There are so many of us, and Hogwarts is so magical...” Luna spread her hands. “Peeves.”
“Luna, that makes a lot of sense,” Neville said. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
Luna held out her hand to Meghan, who took it with her free one and frowned. “Just as I suspected,” she said, trying to put on the manner of her mother’s friend Healer Young when he was pronouncing the result of a case. “You’ve been infected with... Sense-Making Disease!”
“Oh dear.” Luna regarded her hands. “Is it very serious?”
“It could be.” Meghan turned to Neville. “I think we’d better treat it right away.”
“How should we do that, Healer Black?”
“We have to do a Trouble-Taking Dance. Immediately.”
Neville chuckled. “If you insist. But quietly.”
Meghan nodded, then started to jump around Luna, making tiny screeching noises between her teeth. Neville joined her, hooting under his breath. Luna watched them for a few rounds, then caught Meghan’s arm and pulled her into the center of the dance instead, hopping out to join Neville. They danced in opposite directions three times, and then Meghan changed places with Neville and the girls finished the dance in double-time.
All three of them were breathless and laughing as they went down the stairs to the kitchen, and the Pride and the strange black-haired woman at the table looked up at their arrival.
“This is Hestia Jones, you three,” Harry said, waving at the woman. “Professor Jones, Luna Lovegood, my sister Meghan Black, and Neville Longbottom.”
“Professor Jones?” Neville repeated, crossing the kitchen to shake the woman’s hand.
Professor Jones smiled. “That’s right,” she said. “I’m taking over from Professor Binns in History of Magic.”
Neville smiled broadly. “Very pleased to meet you, Professor.”
“I would imagine,” Professor Jones said blandly. “I had Professor Binns myself when I was at school, and I doubt he’s improved any since then.”
“My only question is, where have you been for four and a half years?” Draco interjected from further down the table.
“Working in the Ministry. Doing research for the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
“You research Quidditch?” Ron said, sitting up straighter. “For a living?”
“Among other things.”
“Now that would be an essay I’d enjoy writing,” Harry said.
“I’ll make a note of that.” Professor Jones sat back in her chair just as Winky emerged from the pantry, a large tray of pastries floating in front of her.
“Is young sirs and misses, and madam, wanting drinks with their snack?” the house-elf piped, settling the tray onto the table.
“I’d like tea, please,” said Professor Jones.
“For me as well,” called Hermione, and the rest of the Pride chimed in with their requests. Meghan sat down on the end of the bench nearest her, shut her eyes, thought an incantation carefully, then opened them. Everyone in the room had auras of color around them now, but Winky’s was the clearest of all. It pulsed the bright delicate green that Meghan knew meant good health, and—
Meghan caught a delighted breath. There were two smaller auras pulsing near Winky’s midsection, which was rounder than it had been, and both of them were the same clear green. One had tinges of blue, the other of red, and Meghan clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from blurting out the secret.
I’ll have to ask her later if she wants to know...
Winky turned, frowning, to look at her. “Is Mistress Meghan wanting a drink?” she asked.
Meghan blinked twice, breaking the spell. “Yes, milk for me, please.”
Winky nodded and bustled back into the pantry, and Meghan spun herself around on the bench just in time to beat Ginny to the last nut roll.
Fred and George came down partway through the slaughter of sweets and joined in wholeheartedly, which seemed to amuse Professor Jones. “I knew a pair like you once,” she told them. “Not quite as well matched, but close. Always hungry, always looking for trouble. Quidditch players, too, but one of them was a Chaser, and you’re both Beaters, aren’t you?”
The twins nodded. “Who were they, Professor?” Fred asked, swallowing a mouthful of éclair.
“Ah, that would be telling.” Professor Jones looked smug.
Harry looked her up and down. “Do they both have children in this room?” he asked.
“Very good, Harry!” The older witch grinned at him. “Yes, they do.”
Meghan wiggled with happiness. “Dadfoot and Harry’s dad,” she said surely. Then particulars of certain den-night stories popped into her head, and she almost squealed.
Judging by Hermione’s expression, she’d thought of the same thing. “Professor,” she said carefully, “your Christian name is Hestia?”
“Yes, it is.” Professor Jones took a sip of her tea, watching Hermione over the top of the cup.
“And you were at school with Padfoot and Moony, and Harry’s father?”
“Oh, yes. His mother, too, and one Miss Aletha Freeman.”
“Did I hear my name?” Mama Letha said from the stairs.
“Just reminding the children who I went to school with.”
“Go on, don’t let me stop you.” Mama Letha crossed to the table, and Meghan quickly scooted down to make room. “If I remember right, you can go on for hours once you get started.”
“Indeed I can,” said Professor Jones with a wicked smile. “Indeed I can. But Hermione, you were saying something...”
“Well, Professor, we’ve heard some stories from the time when our Pack-parents were in school.” Hermione rubbed a thumb across her lips. “And there was only ever one girl named Hestia in those stories.”
“Would this be Hestia the second-best Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?” Draco inquired. “The one whose cousin went on to captain the Holyhead Harpies?”
“She is the one I’m thinking of, yes.” Hermione turned to look at Professor Jones. “So... are you?”
The Professor lifted her hands. “What can I say? You’ve caught me.” She frowned. “Except I was not the ‘second-best Chaser’ on that team. I was the best Chaser they had. James was a dilettante who couldn’t decide what position he wanted to play.”
“That might have been because he played both Chaser and Seeker so very well,” Mama Letha said. “But he stayed mostly with Chaser, and you know it. Stop being contradictory just because you can.”
“I am not being contradictory.”
“Yes you are.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
Professor Jones huffed. “Look, I came here for an argument!”
Mama Letha smiled. “And isn’t that exactly what you’re getting?”
The Pride snickered.
“All right, enough silly quoting.” Professor Jones leaned back in her chair. “Time for the important things in life. Stories. Specifically, stories with which to embarrass your parents. At least, your fathers,” she amended at Mama Letha’s glare. “Far be it from me to tarnish the glory on what are, I’m sure, your mothers’ heretofore unblemished names.”
Meghan sighed happily and settled in for a good long listen.
xXxXx
Luna told her ears to remember the stories Professor Jones was telling so that she could enjoy them later, and her mouth to smile or laugh when everyone else did. She needed her attention for trying to figure out what, exactly, she was Seeing when she looked at the older witch.
She’s not like Amanda, she decided finally. She belongs in her body. But there’s something about her that isn’t like anyone else I’ve seen. A little like an Animagus shadow, but this isn’t an animal—it’s another person, another woman...
Luna squinted slightly, trying to See that other woman clearly, and succeeded with a suddenness that startled her. She stared, wide-eyed, for a few seconds, then refocused her eyes to see as little extra as possible.
I know I haven’t ever seen her before. But I know where I’ve seen people who look like her.
I think I know who she is.
The conclusion made no sense, in the way Draco or Hermione or any other of the Pride would think of sense. Luna was sure of it, though, and she knew where she could find final confirmation.
But it can wait. It will mean something someday, but not today.
Today, Professor Jones is just that. Our new History of Magic professor.
Now we can finally get the truth on some important events.
She brought her attention back to the present moment and waited until Professor Jones had finished her current story. The idea of Mr. Prongs covered in melted ice cream with Mr. Padfoot, in his dog form, trying to lick him clean struck her as just as funny as it did everyone else, though she was a bit baffled as to how the ice cream had got to where it had. She was sure it would make more sense when she listened to what her ears had recorded later.
“Excuse me, Professor?” she said when the laughter had died down a bit. “I was wondering if you know anything about the Similarity Suppression of 1348?”
“Luna,” Draco hissed without moving his lips. “Not now.”
“Yes, actually, I do,” said Professor Jones, her eyes resting on Draco, whose cheeks went instantly pink. “But I think that would bore most of the people here. What do you say we make an appointment to discuss it during my office hours once school’s back in session?”
Luna smiled. “That would be wonderful, Professor. Thank you.”
She carefully filed away the shocked expression on Draco’s face for future reference as to how she should be able to make him look any time she wanted. Not only would it win points in her competition with Amanda, but it would be fun.
I’ll need to be creative. He’s too used to my usual things...
xXxXx
The second surprise, besides a new History of Magic professor, was revealed to the cubs when Sirius arrived home from work, and the result was a hall full of shrieking teenagers. Remus, released from his meeting a half-hour earlier, retreated upstairs to the bedroom where Danger was waiting.
“Might I guess they’re happy to be going back to the Den for a little while?” she said as he opened the door.
“You might. And thank you for respecting my privacy.” Remus shut the door behind himself, then crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside her.
“Evidence to the contrary aside, I can take a hint if it’s applied with enough force.” Danger laid her head on his shoulder for a moment, then sat up again. “And you had me fiercely blocked while you were in there. What in the world were you discussing, or is it still off limits?”
“No, no, it’s not off limits. I just didn’t want to worry you while you were bringing the cubs home. For that matter, I don’t want to worry them. I...” Remus sighed and shook his head. “I’m not good at being a leader,” he admitted to the floor. “My natural tendency is still to step back and blend into the woodwork.”
“And you still step forward and stand out from the crowd when you’re needed,” Danger finished with pride. “Just the way you always have.”
“Just the way I always have, since I met you,” Remus corrected, looking up to meet brown-blue eyes. “I don’t think you really understand that. Not here, where it counts.” He laid a hand against her chest, over her heart. “The greatest gift you’ve given me. Far greater than the taming, greater even than our marriage—though let me rephrase that, the third greatest gift.” His hand moved upward to stroke her hair. “You and my Kitten are still in my top two.”
Danger leaned her head into the stroking. “You know,” she murmured, “before I met you, I had no idea a man could be romantic and irritating at the same time.”
Remus laughed aloud. “Thank you, I guess. But the gift I’m talking about is so simple that I think you overlook it, most of the time. Do you know what I needed most, when I was a boy? What I still need most?”
“I can think of several answers to that question, but I doubt any of them are what you’re looking for,” said Danger dryly.
“No doubt. I was referring to approval. The agreement of my peers, or at least some of them, that I was worthwhile, that I was even human. I hadn’t had it for so long when I was young, and then suddenly I did. I had friends, and I would have done anything for them. For their approval. And I did do some things that I’m not proud of.”
Danger slid a hand onto his shoulder. “As have we all.”
“But that’s exactly my point.” Remus started to detangle the knot his fingers had encountered in Danger’s wild hair. “Everyone has done things that they’re not proud of. Not everyone has done those things just because they couldn’t bear to tell their friends no. And a person who does a thing like that, for that reason, seldom makes a good leader. He lacks a type of courage that is rarer than the kind that stands up to physical pain or humiliation.” The tangle came loose, and he slid his fingers free. “There were days I wondered why I was Sorted into Gryffindor.”
Danger scooted around behind him and began to massage his back. “How did I change anything?”
“When I met you—ahh, yes, there—when I met you, for the first time I had someone whose opinion of me I could know for certain.” Remus flinched as Danger’s probing fingers hit a sore spot. “At first, I was sure of you because you were candid with me. And then I was sure of you because I knew you. The same way you knew me.”
“And I still cared for you and wanted to be with you, even though I knew you and all the things you’d done in your life.” Danger rubbed small circles around the knotted muscle. “The things you were proud of, and the ones you weren’t.”
“Yes. And—” Remus sucked air through his teeth, then continued. “And because you were still there in the morning, because you didn’t take one look and run away, I knew that you approved of me. That you would always approve of me, as long as I was doing my best and making the choices I felt I needed to make. And that if, in your eyes, I was straying, you would tell me so—and expect me to make good on it. To come back to the right path.”
“Well.” Danger continued her steady, relentless kneading of his back, but the wall she’d put up between their minds was beginning to fray, and Remus could feel the pulse of her thoughts, working in the same rhythm as her fingers. “This time, instead of irritation, you’ve coupled romance with embarrassment on my part, and I don’t seem to have much I can say about it.”
Remus started to chuckle, but Danger wasn’t finished. “‘No I don’t’ is not only rude, but makes me out to be worse than you believe, and that’s never a winning solution. ‘I’m not the witch you’re looking for’ has the same problem. And ‘you’re out of your mind begs the question, ‘well, who’s in it, then?’ And unfortunately, the answer is ‘me’. So I think I’ll just go with...”
She leaned forward and laid her lips against his ear. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, thank you, I don’t deserve you, I love you, thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Remus twisted his torso and slid his arms around his wife’s waist. “For loving me, for giving me the strength to be things I never thought I could, for being my sanity in a crazy world, thank you.” He kissed her once, gently, on the lips. “I love you. Now and always.”
“Now and always,” Danger repeated, and kissed him back, a bit less gently. “And aren’t we a sappy little pair?” she asked when they broke it off.
Remus waved a nonchalant hand around at the otherwise empty room. “I don’t see anyone here to complain. And if someone should happen to be watching...” He peered upwards, then grinned. “They can take it up with the management.”
Danger snorted. “The management are the most likely voyeurs we’ve got.”
“They brought us together, they can live with the results.” Remus pulled his wife in close and gave her lips the full attention they deserved. I love you, he murmured between their minds. And I don’t care who knows it.
Oh, I know you don’t. Danger reciprocated the kiss gladly, almost hungrily, but then broke off. “More in a minute,” she told him when he looked indignantly at her. “Right now, I need to know what you were discussing in that meeting. Since you decided you could tell me, but we got busy with other things before you got around to it.”
“Meeting. Yes.” Remus deliberately bit his tongue, focused on the pain, and told his hormones firmly that he was no longer sixteen years old and they could by Merlin wait a little while longer. “There have been rumors about planned attacks over the holidays.”
“Attacks? On whom, or what?”
“On some of the Hogwarts students, home for the holidays.” Remus’ desire vanished as he recalled Moody’s grim face, Emmeline Vance’s cool recitation of facts. “Apparently they were hoping to get at them while school was in session, but Hogwarts is still too heavily defended. So they’ll go after them while they’re at home.”
“It’s not just any students, is it?” Danger asked quietly.
“No.” Remus’ hand tightened into a fist. “No. It’s not.” He laughed a little, bitterly. “Who are the one group the purebloods can’t afford to lose, love? Who are the ones who ensure that the next generation will come?”
Danger said nothing, but Remus could feel her growing understanding, and the horror that matched his own, in her mind. Not—
“Breeders,” he confirmed aloud, but so softly that the word hung on the air between them. “Children the same age as ours. The ones just coming into their time. If they got the chance, if they were sufficiently motivated, they could repopulate this island with purebloods. There are still enough of them for that. But they’re not sufficiently motivated.” He hissed between his teeth. “Yet.”
“And some of them may never get the chance.” Danger sounded stunned, and one hand had moved without her conscious prompting to rest over her belly. “It’s risky, though—he’ll make them so angry—”
“Angry? No, love. No.” Remus shook his head. “This won’t make them angry. Not the proper purebloods. This will frighten them. More than that—terrify them. They think that no one and nothing dares to touch them. That they are inviolable. Voldemort plans to teach them otherwise.”
Danger blinked. “And he thinks that instead of fighting him, they’ll come flocking to his side?”
Remus sighed. “The worst of it is, he may well be right. Most traditional purebloods, these days, have been trained to be bullies. What’s the one thing a bully respects?”
“A bigger bully,” Danger said automatically. Then her eyes went wide. “Oh.”
“Oh indeed.” Remus squeezed Danger’s hand. “If—God forbid—but if that happened to one of our cubs, we would be angrier than ever. We would fight harder than we ever have. Both for vengeance’s sake, and to be sure it never happened to another child. But them... no. If Voldemort can demonstrate his power to them, they’ll roll over and show their throats, and then fight as he commands them. Because, after all, if he could beat them, what chance does anyone else have?”
Danger made a little sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. Have I mentioned yet that I hate this crazy world?
Only every day. Remus drew her into his arms, and she buried her face in his shirt. But I’m here. For what I’m worth.
And you are worth quite a lot, and don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. Her shoulders shook twice, three times, four, but then she brought herself back under control and sat up. “So does this change our holiday plans?” she asked.
“It shouldn’t. This attack isn’t about us—it’s about solidifying his own base.” Remus grinned. “Besides, we’ve strengthened the wards around the Den and the Burrow twice in the last week, and Frank and Alice and Gerald did the ones around the Landing Zone and Fireflower House. If there are faults, I can’t see them, and neither can Albus. No hostile spell or person can get onto our property. We’re safe enough.”
And if I say that a few hundred more times, I might just believe it.
xXxXx
On Christmas morning, Cho Chang found a strange package at the foot of her bed when she woke up. She checked it carefully for dangerous magic, for potion residues, for anything at all that might be harmful to her, but found nothing. Finally, gingerly, she opened it, her wand at the ready.
The lid of the flat, square box lifted away to disclose a shining silver necklace. Cho frowned and leaned closer. It seemed to be some kind of round disks, strung together on a chain—
The necklace leaped up and clasped itself around her neck. Cho shrieked, snatching at it, but it did not tighten to cut off her airway or grow burning hot against her skin. It simply lay on her collarbone and shoulders, heavy with its own ponderous weight. The clasp seemed to have grown together, for all her fumbling behind her neck could find only a smooth length of chain under her probing fingers.
Shaking, she slipped out of bed and crossed the room to her mirror.
The necklace was made of coins. Not Sickles, but ancient-looking coins, with a man’s profile stamped on them and bay leaves on the alternate side. She was sure, even without counting, that there were thirty of them.
She pointed her wand over her shoulder at the bed and the discarded box. “Accio card,” she whispered in a trembling voice.
The small, elegantly calligraphed slip of parchment fluttered across the room into her hand. She held it up and looked at it. Hot tears of shame welled into her eyes but would not let her release them, for she did not deserve such mercy.
The card read simply:
With the compliments of Dumbledore’s Army
Not that I didn’t love JKR’s zits, but for Cho, I thought something a bit more refined would be in order. Besides, there’s more to this one than you know yet. Fasten your seatbelts, people, we’re in for one heck of a ride! And toss a review my way to get the motor cranking so I can haul you up that hill and leave you hanging next time...