velvetmouse

plaidphoenix

plaidphoenix

sherylyn

The day started out normally enough. It was December 29th, that calm time when the Christmas celebrations have mostly wrapped up and the New Year’s parties have yet to begin. The prevailing gloom and depression of the War had somewhat abated in the face of concerted holiday cheer, and I was feeling decidedly claustrophobic.

I stood from the chair in the den where I had been curled up for the past hour, re-reading the same two paragraphs over and over again. “That’s it,” I announced. “I need to get out of here.”

James, my ever-loving husband, merely grunted. He probably didn’t hear me at all. He may accuse me of being a bookworm, but when he gets buried in his comic books, the house could probably collapse around him before he noticed.

“I’m going to Diagon Alley. Do you want me to pick up anything?”

“That’s nice, dear.”

“I’ll take the box back to the vault.”

“I love you, too.”

I tried one last time. “I’m running off with Remus and we’re going to make a whole litter of red-headed were-cubs.”

“Have fun.” There was a pause. “Wait, what?”

I smirked at the adorably baffled face that peered over the top of the comic book. “Now that I have your attention: I’m going to take the box back to Gringotts; do you need me to pick up anything while I’m out?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He hesitated. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Lil?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Honestly, I love James to death, but he can be so over-protective sometimes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s the middle of the day and I’m just going to Gringotts. Besides, even Death Eaters take a holiday.”

“If you’re sure,” he replied skeptically. But you’ll note he wasn’t so concerned as to drag himself away from his comic books and offer to come with me.

I changed into decent robes – I still prefer my trousers and jumpers around the house, but goblins appreciate a bit of formality – and snagged the box from my dresser. Grabbing a cloak from the closet, I stepped into the antechamber and Apparated. “The box” in question was a jewelry box containing a sapphire pendant the size of an egg, and matching earrings. They had been given to Great-great-great-Grandma Potter by some Indian mogul “for services rendered” (I’d never had the nerve to ask for more details than that) and generally resided, with a small fortune of other jewelry, in the Potter family vault. However, James had insisted that I wear them to the Ministry’s Boxing Day Ball. While he had long since grown out of his “I’m a rich pureblood and you’re not” phase, James definitely understood that a tasteful display of wealth was useful upon occasion. Particularly when dealing with the Ministry. Besides, I enjoyed playing dress-up sometimes.

At the bank, I requested to be taken down to the vault and was treated to a hair-raising ride. I didn’t complain, though. Unlike many people in the Wizarding world, I don’t mind dealing with goblins. I find their lack of sexism a refreshing change from both the Wizard and Muggle worlds. I am a true bra-burning child of the ’60s and the Victorian-era attitudes of most wizards tend to grate on me. Goblins, on the other hand, make no distinction between the sexes, except when a hvarla’r (female) is nearing her birthing time. Then she is put on administrative desk duty, usually after much protest, and given –

Ahem. Sorry about that. You really shouldn’t let me wander off like that; I can go on about goblin society for hours. I have been fascinated with them since my first trip to the bank, mere hours after I had been introduced to the Wizarding world. I suppose that is one reason I chose to work for the Gringotts curse-breaking division after Hogwarts.

At any rate, it was a perfectly normal December day until Griphook (the Potter family liaison) and I stepped off the cart and into the corridor containing the Potter family vaults. That was when things started to go pear-shaped.

To understand what happened next (and believe me, it will be hard enough as is), there are a few points that need to be clarified.

First, there are two ways in (or out) of every goblin vault. The track entrances, the ones that most wizards see, are the ones with the fancy vault doors, the dragons and the complicated-sounding entrance procedures. These are mostly for show. The real entrances to the vaults are around back, with normal doors that are keyed in to specific Gringotts’ employees when access is needed. Oh, the curses on the track entrances and the dragons are real enough, and certainly help to deter thieves. But, really, who would want to go through that rigmarole every time we needed to do an inventory of a vault? Goblins are nothing if not practical and efficient – yet another reason I often prefer working with them over other wizards.

Second, as a Gringotts employee, I always used the back door when going to our vault. The back door to the Potter vaults lies just off the intersection of two corridors, connecting the Accountant’s section on the A4 level with the Experimental Labs on C12. It is also the quickest way to get from either of those places to the employee lounge. Trust me, this will be important.

Lastly, while goblins use the same basic calendar as humans, their holidays are slightly different. In point of fact, December 29th is one of their biggest festivals, commemorating their victory over a cartel of trolls some 500 years ago. Gringotts always throws a party for their goblin employees, and, as with most goblin festivities, it involves a lot of drinking.

Anyone who is feeling a prickle of foreboding… well, I hear there’s a position available at Hogwarts for a Divination teacher.

Griphook and I were about to round the corner to the Potter vault door when we met – head on – a group of three goblins, obviously on their way back from the Sfarkil Day celebration in the staff lounge. They were each carrying a mostly-empty bottle of Ouzo (I only recognized it because Sirius had fallen in love with the stuff on his last trip to Greece, and brought some over for us to try), and it was clear they had each consumed their fair share. Here’s another interesting fact about goblins: they have a much faster metabolism than humans. When they drink, they get plastered. Fast.

Unfortunately, as we were about to step out of the way and let the stumbling trio past, a human and a goblin came up from the direction of the Labs, moving at a rapid rate and each carrying something.

I suppose a collision was inevitable, and the next thing I knew, the seven of us were extracting ourselves from a pile of arms and legs. There was a lot of swearing, mostly in Gobbledegook, which is a rather satisfactory language to swear in. As we were righting ourselves – some with more success than others – I heard a wet-sounding splash. One of the bottles of Ouzo and the vial one of the curse-breakers had been carrying – containing pixie wings, I was later told – had both smashed and were now forming a sticky-looking puddle around a Goblin Warding Stone, which the other curse-breaker must have been carrying. I wouldn’t swear to it later, but I think the puddle was glowing faintly. One of the drunken Goblins pulled out his focus ring (Goblins use metal focus rings for their magic rather than wooden wands. It has something to do with the goblin affinity for – never mind. That’s a story for another time.) and began chanting the goblin equivalent of Scourgify. The other curse-breakers and I all paled and started to shout, “No!”, in various languages, but by then it was too late.

The next thing I knew, there was a blinding flash of light and I felt myself being thrown through the air. I put my hands protectively over my abdomen – only James knew I was two months pregnant – and tried to roll with the blow. Then it was just dark.

***********

I slowly came to my senses again and groaned. Everything ached. Carefully, cautiously, I opened my eyes and for a moment I thought I was in front of a giant mirror. The room itself was simple stone and I was sitting slumped against one wall. In front of me was my reflection – or so I thought until I took a second look. Frowning, I looked down at myself. No, I had definitely worn my green robes today, not the blue ones. Yet my blue robes were clearly shown in my reflection. Then the “image” stirred and I realized I was not looking at my reflection, but at another person. One who looked remarkably like me, but a different person nonetheless. At least I hoped she was. I really didn’t want to deal with clones or doppelgangers.

Careful of my pounding head, I eased myself into a standing position, with my back on the wall. Partially to prevent the other person from sharing the same confusion I had, and partially because she was an unknown quantity.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Wha – what happened?” Her eyes flew open and she looked around wildly, although I could tell that she wasn’t really seeing anything. She patted herself frantically but then relaxed as she felt the inside of one of her wrists and withdrew a wand. Reminded, I cautiously felt for my own wrist holster and relaxed marginally when I discovered my wand still there.

“I can’t tell you what happened,” I said quietly. Her head whipped towards me and she winced. “But if you feel anything like I do, your head is probably killing you.” She started to nod and winced again.

Cautiously, I took a step forward. “I have some basic Healer training, I might be able to dull the pain a little, if you’ll let me,” I offered.

She eyed me warily through half-closed eyes and then apparently decided that the opportunity to think straight again outweighed the risk of having an unknown witch wave a wand at her. I knelt beside her and cast a Numbing Charm at her forehead and then repeated the process on myself.

“What is this,” she mumbled as I worked, “a trap for red-heads?”

I chuckled. “I thought I was looking into a mirror when I first woke up. I have that same set of robes in my wardrobe at home. I had to check to make sure I wasn’t wearing them! Where did you get yours, Madam Malkins?”

“No, I inher-” She cut herself off and looked me straight in the eyes. And gasped. Suddenly I was staring down the business end of her wand.

“Who are you?” she demanded. I felt my temper flare and trained my own wand on her.

“Excuse me? Who are you?”

“Answer me first,” she replied through gritted teeth. Now that we were both standing up, I got a better look at her. She was only an inch or two shorter than I was, and a little bit curvier, but she had the lean look of an athlete. Her face was rounder than mine, and her eyes, to my surprise, were a rich brown. Not a combination you usually find with red hair. Overall, though, I decided I could be forgiven for thinking I was looking in a mirror. We certainly could have passed for sisters.

“Lily Evans Potter, Charms Specialist for the Curse-Breaking Division of Gringotts,” I replied, giving my formal name and title. Magic is a tricky thing when it comes to names.

If anything, my answer caused her to pale even more.

“Prove it,” she demanded, and I was surprised to note that she was trying very hard to keep her wand hand from visibly shaking.

“What would constitute proof to you?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

She thought for a moment. “How does your sister prefer her tea?”

“Light cream and no sugar in the morning, heavy cream and as much sugar as she can stir in if it’s after supper,” I replied, completely puzzled. I couldn’t imagine why a witch would be asking about Petty’s tea preferences.

My answers must have met with her approval, for she relaxed visibly and lowered her wand slightly. “How is it possible?” she muttered to herself.

I, however, held my wand steady. “Your turn. Who are you?”

“Ginny Weasley,” she hesitated slightly, “Ginny Weasley Potter, starting Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies.”

“What?” I hissed. “Impossible. James is an only child.”

“I know,” she said placatingly. “What date is it?” she asked suddenly, as though she had just realized something.

“December 29th, 1979,” I replied quickly, thrown by her non sequitor.

“Bugger,” she swore. “Buggery buggery bugger.”

“Explain.”

“We have a problem. You see, to me, it is December 29th, 2001. I’m married to your son, Harry.”

To my credit, I did not faint. I did, however, start swearing in four languages.

Ginny looked at me with amusement. “Impressive. I recognized some of that. Besides English, there was French, Gobbledegook and was that other one Gaelic?”

“Fairy, actually, but Gaelic is derived from it, so you were close. How did you know the other two?”

“Bill is – will be? was? bugger – a curse-breaker at Gringotts too, and his wife is French.”

“Who’s Bill?”

“Bill Weasley, my oldest brother… although you wouldn’t know him yet, as to you, he’d only be nine years old. Merlin, this is weird. I’m sorry, Mrs. Potter -”

“Please, just call me Lily,” I said, sinking back down to the floor. “Otherwise I’d have to call you ‘Mrs. Potter’ also, which would be even weirder.” I leaned up against the wall again and sat with my legs out and my hand protectively over my abdomen. I could feel the baby – Harry – stirring slightly even then. He seemed to feed off my magic as much as anything. Ginny sat down also, and I took another good look at her.

“So you’re my daughter-in-law, huh? Weird to think that, no one besides James even knows I’m pregnant yet.” I smiled crookedly. “I guess Potters really do have a thing for red-heads, huh?”

She chuckled weakly. “I’m sorry, there are so many things I want to tell you, want to ask you about. But I’m not sure I should.” She bit her lower lip in thought. “I mean, I know the rules for time-turners, and how you have to be really careful not to let the wrong information slip. Think that applies here?”

“Probably,” I admitted, although there were many things I was dying to ask her too. Her initial reactions were ones I was all too familiar with – those of someone used to fighting for her life. And her reaction to me implied that she had never met me. I didn’t want to think about the possibilities that brought up.

“Where are we?” Ginny wondered aloud, looking around the room. “And when?” she added with a grimace.

“I don’t know the when, but I do know the where. This is a goblin containment chamber.”

“That’s not a good thing, right?”

“No, it most certainly is not. The goblins built these chambers for ‘containing, controlling and/or neutralizing unknown, volatile and dangerous objects, substances and beings.’”

“A direct quote, I take it?”

“Gringotts employee training manual. I’ve never worked in one, but from what I hear, they’re completely impervious to magical damage, and most physical damage as well. Supposedly, they were warded by Gringott himself and are tied into the very foundation of the bank. If an unexpected magical occurrence takes place, it is immediately contained and transported to one of these chambers.”

“Well, I think ‘unexpected magical occurrence’ about covers it. So, no way out then?” Ginny asked.

“Well…” I hesitated. “The goblins do perform a thorough cleaning of all the containment chambers once a year…”

“Please tell me they do it at a nice convenient time like New Year’s Day?”

I chuckled. “No such luck. Autumnal Equinox.” She winced.

“No thank you. I really don’t want to play midwife at the birth of my own husband.” We looked at each other and started laughing. The absurdity of the situation was starting to set in, and it was either laugh or cry. I’m glad she chose to laugh with me. I have limited patience for weepy females.

We fell silent for a few moments, contemplating our situation, and then Ginny spoke up again. “You know, we don’t even know when we are. Clearly something strange went on, or we wouldn’t both be sitting here. Why are we assuming we were transported forward or backwards in years only? I mean, it might be September 24, 1918, for all we know.”

“True.” I pulled out my wand again and flicked it in a circular pattern. “Tempus.”

Normally, when the Time Charm is cast, it locates your geo-spacial position and then calculates your local time based on that and a great deal of other factors that we like to call “magic.” Please note that I said “normally.” However, as the day was about as far removed from normal as Sirius was from his family, it didn’t work out that way.

Instead of the nicely formatted date and time that I expected to see, three reels of a fruit machine spun before my eyes. Each reel slowed and eventually stopped on a bing cherry.

“Jackpot,” Ginny commented dryly, looking over my shoulder. “Well, then. Either we’re due for a run of really good luck just about now…”

“…Or we’re in even more trouble than we thought,” I finished. I started pacing around the room. That’s one habit James hasn’t been able to break me of, although he claims it drives him batty.

“As I see it, we have two choices. Either we can sit here waiting and hope that someone comes along to let us out…”

“Or?”

“…Or we can attempt the impossible and try to break out of a goblin containment chamber.” I looked at the other red-head with a smirk, curious how she would take that statement. I was pretty sure I could come up with a way to get us out; I hadn’t been named Head Girl for my looks. But I was going to need some help.

“You know,” Ginny said slowly, “I grew up with six brothers. The twins, Fred and George, were always considered to be the spiritual successors to the Marauders.” There was a gleam in her eye that would not have looked out of place on James or Sirius. “And if I learned anything from them – well, aside from never to eat anything they gave you – was that nothing was impossible with enough nerve and creativity. Let’s do it!”

We shared a grin that would have sent the boys running for the hills and would have impressed the hell out of my goblin supervisors. It was a grin that promised mayhem, destruction and probably something undignified for those on the receiving end.

“So, I don’t suppose you have any parchment on you?” Ginny asked.

I smiled and waved my wand. “Why bother with parchment and quill and we can use the walls and floor,” I said, holding up a piece of chalk that I had just conjured. “Easier to make changes this way too.”

“Brilliant!”

Three hours, and one wall’s worth of equations later, we slumped back down to the floor for a breather.

“We must be missing something,” Ginny growled in frustration.

“We’ll find it,” I said soothingly. While I was perfectly willing to sit down and work through the problem methodically, starting with what we knew for certain and progressing logically from there, Ginny was more like Sirius, making leaps of intuition and landing on the correct conclusion without the intervening steps to support it.

“I’m not even sure what we’re trying to do,” she grumbled. “The room is charmed so that nothing magical can affect it. It’s not like we can just make a door and open it.”

My jaw dropped and I stared at my once-and-future daughter-in-law in astonishment. Could it really be that easy?

“What? Have I got chalk on my nose or something?” she asked, looking at me oddly.

“Just make a door,” I muttered and did another set of equations on the floor by my side. “Just make it.”

I looked up and grinned. “How are your drawing skills?” I asked Ginny.

“Pretty decent, actually. I spent most of History of Magic sketching. You’re not suggesting…?”

I smirked and presented her the chalk with a flourish. “I most certainly am. C’mon, Rembrandt, give it a shot.”

“But, but,” she protested weakly, “that has to violate most of the known rules of magic. We can’t just draw a door, open it, and get out!”

I rolled my eyes. “Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. You’re forgetting the most basic rule of pranking.”

“Don’t get caught?”

“Well, okay, aside from that one. If you don’t like the rules, change them. This is magic, Gin. Nothing is impossible. You just have to get creative enough that the so-called rules fold back on themselves and allow you to do what you want while they’re trying to untie themselves.”

“You’re not serious!”

“You’re just now realizing that? Aside from having red hair and, you know, being female, I’m nowhere near as much of a pain in the arse as he is. Besides, he’d never look this good in these robes.” I ducked the hand that took a swipe at me.

Ginny scowled at me playfully, but then turned sober. “You really think we can draw our way out of here?”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “You said it yourself, the walls are impervious to whatever we might try to do to them. But I’m willing to bet that we can affect chalk on the walls, and through that, find a way out of here.”

She looked at me like I was crazy, but then sighed. “I don’t know why I’m trying to argue. I never win against Harry, either.” She squared her shoulders as if preparing for a herculean task. “So what am I drawing? A door? A portal?”

“A guardian painting.”

“Like the ones at Hogwarts?”

“Exactly. I happen to know the charms used to animate them and give them control over the common room entrance. Hopefully, we’ll be able to trick it into thinking there is actually an opening behind it, even though we’re not sure exactly where it is.”

“Okay then. Which wall?”

I shrugged and grinned at her confusion. “I don’t think it matters. Magic, remember? If we can force a portal out of here, we can tell it to go wherever we want, so it doesn’t matter where the real door is.”

Ginny shook her head in disbelief but picked up a piece of chalk and began sketching an outline on one of the unused walls.

“Who or what should I draw?” she asked a few minutes later. I looked up from the runes I was inscribing next to her and thought for a moment.

“Well, some of the magic for this is going to come from you, so it should probably be someone you know well. And someone who isn’t alive – to your perspective, anyway,” I added as an afterthought. “I’m still not sure when we are, so the rules are a little different. Normally you wouldn’t want to do this of a person who is alive. It gets. . . messy, otherwise.”

She nodded and looked thoughtful. Then she got a sad smile on her face. “I’m going to need some colors to do this properly.”

“Sure, let me know what you need,” I said and began conjuring some more chalk.

“You know,” I commented some time later, watching the indistinct forms come to life under her skilled hand, “if the whole Quidditch thing doesn’t work out, I’d say you definitely have a career as a screever.”

She shot me a grin and began to hum something that sounded suspiciously like “Chim-Chim-Cher-ee” under her breath. At least I think that’s what she meant it to be. A good artist she might be, but apparently Ginny lacked the ability to carry a tune. I only hoped that Harry had inherited my musical ability, and not James’s. James singing in the shower was enough to make Padfoot howl and hide under the bed. I laughed and continued to conjure chalk in all the hues I could come up with.

Eventually, Ginny dropped the piece of chalk she was holding and flexed her fingers. “That’s as good as I can make it,” she proclaimed and flopped to the floor next to me.

“Then that is good enough. I inscribed the runes around the picture, so all we need to do is activate them and cast two spells. One will bring the picture to life and the other will make it believe it is the guardian of a portal. Hopefully, between the image’s own magic and the runes I added, that will be enough to actually create said portal.”

“So who does the casting?” That was a good question.

“Normally, the artist does it all – that’s why I said to make it an image of someone you knew, it makes the magic easier. But I’m going to have to be the one to activate the runes.”

“I think we’re going to want as much magical power as we can muster for this,” Ginny pointed out tiredly. We were both beginning to feel the strain of being locked up in a supposedly impenetrable room. “So maybe we should cast them together?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Now here’s the first spell we’re going to cast,” I began, and set about teaching my companion what we would need to do.

***********

As with everything that happened that day, our plan did not go quite as expected.

We were able to cast the spells well enough. The first one caused the portrait Ginny had drawn to start moving groggily, as a sleeper awakening, and the second caused the entire drawing, frame and all, to glow briefly. I then tapped the activation rune, which triggered the others, and the whole setup flared brightly once and then settled down to a faint glow. The only thing we could do then was sit back and wait until the portrait was completely awake and activated.

Ginny had drawn a young man, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with red hair, a smattering of freckles and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She had not said who he was, but the family resemblance was obvious. He twisted and stretched in the frame and shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs out. Then he opened his mouth to speak.

I would say this was when things got really odd. However, having just spent the past five hours with the woman who was to become the wife of a child I had not yet borne, my sense of “normal” was probably a little off. I will say, though, that the results we got from our foray into the impossible were not what either Ginny or I were expecting.

“Well, well, well,” he said cheerfully. “If it isn’t my two favorite red-heads. Female variety, anyway.” His features seemed to be mercurial, shifting and changing as he looked at two of us. His hair wandered between auburn and strawberry blond, freckles appeared and disappeared, and his face gained and lost roundness. His voice was tantalizingly familiar.

“Fabian?”

“Fred?”

Ginny and I looked at each other in shock and the man in the portrait, whatever his name, started to laugh.

“Ginny,” I asked carefully, “who did you intend to draw in that portrait?”

“My brother Fred,” she replied, warily eyeing the picture. “He was one of the twins I mentioned earlier. He was ki- he died in the wa- he died fighting something similar to what you are fighting in your own time,” she said thickly. “You thought it was Uncle Fabian?”

“Uncle Fabian?”

“Yeah, one of my mum’s younger brothers. I never knew them, I heard they were killed in the First War. Mum always said Fred and George were a lot like them, though.”

Right. Molly Weasley, nee Prewitt. I had forgotten about that connection. She and her husband (Adam? Art? No, Arthur) weren’t active in the Order, but her younger brothers, Fabian and Gideon, were well known to me. They had taken James and Sirius under their wings and were tutoring them in all things cloak and dagger, but had been killed less than a month before. We were all still mourning the loss.
“Well, since you seem to know us,” I address the portrait, “would you mind introducing yourself?”

He laughed again, and the mischievous twinkle in his eye seemed to take on a life of its own. “You were both right,” he said gaily. “When I’m talking to Gin-Gin here, I’m Fred.” He focused exclusively on Ginny and much of the shifting seemed to stop. “And when I’m talking to Lils, I’m Fabian.” He focused on me and his features shifted into the ones I was familiar with.

“Oh-kay then,” Ginny said in disbelief. We looked at each other and shrugged.

“I suppose this is what happens when two people cast the spells. So, Fred, Fabian, whatever your name is, are you aware of what we’re trying to do?”

“You betcha. One of the benefits of those spells is that they convey the caster’s intentions to the target. I couldn’t be more proud of you two, trying to do the impossible!” He wiped an imaginary tear from one eye. Ginny rolled her eyes; apparently that was a classic Fred gesture.

“So how do we get you to open the portal?” she asked.

“Normally, you’d just give me the password and m’lady’s wish would be my command. But I think you’re going to need a bit more oomph for this one.” We all thought hard for a few moments.

“Ginny, do you know the Animagus reversal spell?” I asked, the beginnings of an idea starting to form as I spoke.

“It’s restituo humani, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but what if we tried Restituear mihi tempi instead?”

“Very good, Lils,” the portrait murmured.

Ginny frowned, puzzling out the new spells. “Let me be restored to my time? Sounds plausible. That’s a pretty powerful spell to begin with, so it just might work. Which one of us should try it first?”

I glanced at the drawing. “Any suggestions, oh wise one?”

Instead of the flippant answer I was expecting, he actually frowned in thought. “Ginny, I think. She is further along in the timeline. Move out of my line of sight, Lils. I need to concentrate on this.”

I did so and Ginny stepped directly in front of the portrait. His features shifted until he was solidly on the Fred end of the spectrum.

“Am I casting this spell on me or where we want the portal to be?” Hmm. That was a good question.

“Portal.”

“Portal.”

“Portal.”

Ginny chuckled. “Since we’re all in agreement, the portal it is. I hope you can do this, Fred. Restituear mihi tempi!”

No one dared to move or even breathe. The drawing glowed brightly and my runes flared again. Then, just as I was afraid nothing was going to happen, the drawing seemed to swing outwards (no, I don’t know how a two-dimensional chalk drawing can swing outwards. Magic, remember?) and in its place was a shimmering portal.

Ginny peered through without touching it. “It looks like a Gringotts corridor to me,” she announced. “I’ll at least be able to get out of this chamber. I won’t be able to tell when it is until I get out there, though.”

“Are you willing to risk it?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

I shrugged but then nodded in acknowledgement. We were going to have to take some risks and trust that we worked the magic properly.

“I’ll do it,” she said and then paused. “Look, I know this probably violates about a dozen rules and laws, but I don’t think I care. I mean, look what we’ve already done,” she said, gesturing at the open portal. “I’m not going to tell you anything specific but I do want to tell you two things.”

I nodded. I could see how important this was.

“First, please make sure you and James have your wills on file here in Gringotts. And make sure you clearly outline who you want to take care of Harry, if something should ever happen to both of you – and who you don’t want him to go to. And second -” She hesitated.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“Just – just – think about what Peter’s Animagus form is. And what that says about him as a person,” she said in a rush, and hugged me tightly. “I’m so glad I got a chance to meet you like this. Harry loves you very much, Mum,” she whispered, and jumped through the portal before I could say a word.

“Bill!” I faintly heard Ginny exclaim and through the portal I saw her swept into a hug by a tall red-head. He spoke animatedly for a moment and she put her hand on his arm, calming him. She spoke again and gestured towards the portal. Bill, or I presumed that’s who it was, looked towards me for a moment with a confused expression and shook his head. Ginny looked puzzled for a moment then laughed. She must have realized, as I did, that while I could still see out the portal, it was invisible from the other side. Ginny took her brother’s arm and led him off down the corridor, turning once back over her shouldn’t to shoot me a grin. I waved back, knowing that even if she couldn’t see me, she would know what I had done.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out to close the portal once more. This was the tricky part – magic had done the impossible once, could it do it a second time? The drawing swung shut and once again I faced a young red-headed man.

“Heya, Lils. Did Ginny make it through okay?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least the portrait was still animate and aware. That was a darn good start.

“Yes, she did. She was greeted by her brother Bill, and he didn’t looked shocked to see her, so I’m assuming she was at least close to the right time.” I examined the portrait closely. His features were less mercurial now, and he seemed to have settled more on the “Fabian” end of the spectrum, rather than the “Fred” end.

He smiled. “Well, of course I look more like Fabian now,” he said, answering my unasked question. “That’s the link to your time. Fred was the link to Ginny’s. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Fabe, I think I am.” I pulled out my wand one last time, but then hesitated. “But what about you? After I go through, are you going to be all right?”

Fabian laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Lils. I’m sure I can find a few things to keep me occupied.”

“All right then. Don’t do anything the Marauders wouldn’t do!” I cast the same spell that Ginny had cast moments before, and once again the painting glowed and then swung open.

Cautiously, I looked through. The corridor was empty, save for one lone goblin, waiting patiently. Griphook. Confident now, I stepped through. I looked back, but saw nothing but a blank wall, indistinguishable from the thousands of other walls in Gringotts.

“Hello, Griphook,” I said quietly.

He turned towards me calmly, as if having a witch appear out of thin air was an everyday occurrence. “Mrs. Potter. I trust you are unharmed.”

“I’m fine, Griphook. But I will need to speak with the Superiors about the Containment Chambers.”

If a goblin had eyebrows, he would have lifted his. “Oh?”

“Yup,” I replied cheerfully. Then I paused and flicked my wand in a circle. “Tempus.“

The date and time came up, just as expected, showing me that it had been less than an hour since I first left home.

I turned back to my goblin companion. “Why don’t you tell me what you saw?” I said as we set off down the corridor. I could always return the jewelry box later.

***********

I never did figure out exactly when Ginny and I ended up, nor how we got there.

My story was told to several of the Master Warders and eventually to the C.F. herself. It was decided however, to keep my adventure as secret as possible. The goblins were not particularly eager to advertise that someone broke out of a supposedly unbreakable chamber. I think they were just happy it was done by one of their own employees and not some random wizard.

That afternoon, when I got home, I said nothing to James. I felt a little guilty, but I just pleaded work business had come up – which was marginally true. James was familiar enough with my Gringotts oaths that he didn’t press me.

I did, however, sit down that evening and write two letters. The first was long and perhaps the hardest thing I have ever written. The recipient may find it hard to read in places, for there are a few splashes of tears obscuring a word here and there. The second letter was shorter and restored a smile to my face. When I had finished, I waved my wand in a complicated pattern. It was a spell I had only read about, but I was confident it would work.

When I was done, both envelopes disappeared with a slight ‘pop’. They would reappear on January 1, 2002, on the desk of the Potter Family Liaison. The first was addressed to Mr. Harry James Potter, Heir to the Potter Line, My Son. The second was simply addressed Ginny.

Rating: PG

Summary: Sometimes, you don’t know what you have until it’s shoved in your face, daces around and screams “notice me!”

I.
“P-professor Snape?”

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“You, um, said I could contact you. If I had questions. With my studies.”

“I did.”

“Is this, um, a good time for you, sir? If not, I’ll – I’ll send you an owl later.”

“What is your question, Miss Granger?”

“Oh! Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it. My classes here are – ”

“Your question?”

“Oh right. Sorry, sir. In class we were talking about the properties of topaz and I remembered you saying. . .”

II.
“Hello, sir!”

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger. What has you so infernally perky?”

“My potion! It worked! I did like you suggested, and added one counter-clockwise turn half way through and it worked!”

“I see. And who was your unwitting victim that you tested this on?”

“Well, er, I haven’t exactly tested it yet. But the color turned deep green, just as predicted!”

“Test it, Miss Granger. Then you may crow at me.”

“Yes sir.”

III.
“Professor? Professor, are you there, sir?”

“Mrph.”

“Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s two in the bloody morning, Hermione. Yes, you woke me.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”

“Never mind. I’m awake now. What’s so urgent?”

“I think I solved our bicorn problem!”

“Our bicorn problem? When last I checked, this was your research project not mine.”

“Oh. But I think I figured it out! You see, because of the nature of -”

“Hermione, how much coffee have you had?”

IV.
“Thank you for coming to my paper at the conference last week. I really appreciated having you there.”

“Of course. I see it as my duty to support promising new minds in the field – especially when they happen to have been my student.”

“And I also really enjoyed dinner afterwards. I was wondering – wondering if. . .”

“Pardon?”

“Iwaswonderingifyou’dliketohavedinnerwithmeagainsometime.”

“. . .”

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Wait, Hermione. I was merely trying to parse what you said. I believe the answer is yes, I would very much enjoy having dinner with you again. Perhaps this coming Saturday?”

V.
“Hermione?”

“S-Severus?”

“We were supposed to have dinner tonight, and you didn’t – are you crying, Hermione?”

“Yes. No. Maybe?”

“What’s wrong, Hermione?”

“Russ. He – he – ”

“That bastard! If he hurt you, Hermione, I swear. . .”

“No, no. Nothing like that. He just broke up with me. By owl.”

“Bastard. Come through, Hermione. You shouldn’t be alone right now. I have a bottle of wine with your name on it here.”

VI.
“You’re WHAT?”

“I’m getting married. Wedded. Joined at the hip.”

“To – to Marisa?”

“Who else, if not the woman I’ve been living with for the last year? Hermione, are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, yes. I’m fine. It just surprised me, that’s all. Congratulations, Severus. You deserve some happiness.”

“Thank you, dear. Would you stand with me? I know it’s tradition to have a best man, but you’re my closest friend, and. . .”

“Of-of course I will. I’d be honored.”

VII.
“Hermione?”

“Severus! Hello, stranger. How’re you doing? We haven’t talked in forever. . .”

“I know. I am so sorry about that. But with everything that’s been going on. . .”

“I know. I – I missed talking to you, though. It’s been strange, not being able to randomly call you up in the middle of the night when I have this great idea about a potion.”

“I know. I think I’ve missed it too. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I’d like the company.”

“Of course. Just let me go throw a couple of stasis charms on my cauldrons and I’ll be right there.”

VIII.
“Are you there? Hermione, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here now. What’s going on?”

“Can you take my classes for a few weeks?”

“Of course. But why? What’s going on, Severus?”

“I’ve been awarded the Goodell prize for Most Original Research, so I have to prepare a keynote address for the upcoming conference.”

“You’ve been award the – oh my god oh my god oh my god!”

“I accept your congratulations, thank you.”

“Shove it and move over, I’m coming through.”

“But Jasmine – ”

“Oh bugger your wife! She can put up with me while I congratulate you properly.”

IX.
“Dammit! That bloody bloody bastard! I’m going to kill him!”

“Woah, woah, slow down, Hermione. Who’s the ruddy bastard this time?”

“James. Not only did he ditch me for that light skirted floozy, he went and patented the transmutation process without me!”

“He didn’t!”

“He did. Ooooh, when I get my hands on him, I’ll make the Unforgiveables look like a walk in the park.”

“Easy, Hermione. Put your wand down. He’s not there right now, so there’s no sense in destroying innocent cauldrons. Just take a deep breath and put your wand down, there’s a good girl. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“But what about – ”

“My wife can do without me for tonight. You need me more than she does right now.”

X.
“She left.”

“She left? Just like that? Oh I’m so sorry, Severus. Did she say anything?”

“Only that it was clear to her now that she could never compete. Compete with what, I’m not sure.”

“. . .”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just muttering to myself. I’m so sorry, dearest. So much for third time’s a charm, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“Do you want. . .?”

“Please?”

“I’ll be right there.”

XI.
“Come dancing with me, Severus.”

“What?”

“Dancing. You know, big open parquet floor, music, bodies swaying, hopefully in time to the music.”

“You dance?”

“I danced at your wedding, didn’t I? All three of them, in fact.”

“So you did.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides you need to get your mind off – what’s this one’s name? Mindy? Muffy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Please?”

“Fine.”

XII.

“Dinner, Hermione?”

“Please.”

“Here or there?”

“There. Let me just wash up and then I’ll be through.”

“Excellent. Don’t forget the stasis charms.”

“Yes, dear.”

“And don’t forget to – what’re you laughing at?”

“Just thinking how much we sound like an old married couple, that’s all.”

“. . .”

“What was that, dear?”

“I said ‘All of the nagging, none of the benefits.’”

“If I recall correctly, it was your choice to, ah, suspend those benefits.”

“I was married.”

“But you’re not now. And neither am I.”

“Point.”

“So do you still want your nagging not-wife to come over for dinner?”

“Only if she brings dessert.”

turkeyish

————————————

She was the last person I ever expected to see there. Well, okay, maybe not the last. I mean, seeing one of the Malfoys, or Filch, or Umbit- er, Umbridge would have been rather shocking. But she was definitely high up on my “people I don’t expect to see hiking up a mountain” list. And I sure as hell didn’t expect to see her with the person she was with.

We ran into her towards the end of a long day. Harry had finally been allowed some time off and my season hadn’t started yet, so we decided to take a proper holiday for once, our first since our honeymoon. Two weeks in the Greek islands had been wondrous, even though I tried to turn myself into a cooked lobster about every other day. Red hair and fair skin do not work well in the Mediterranean.

After that, we still had a week left, so we decided to head up to Romania, enjoy the mountains and maybe visit Charlie. We ensconced ourselves in the big resort in Predeal (it being off season, and hey, marrying into the Potter fortune does have its perks) and set ourselves to enjoy a week of good food, clean air and spectacular mountain views.

Which is how we found ourselves picnicking in an alpine meadow just outside of Busteni. We picked up lunch in the town and then hiked our way up until we both were hungry and found a likely looking spot. We could have Apparated up, I suppose, but really, what’s the point? Neither Harry nor I are strangers to physical activity and we both enjoyed the walk up. Harry did add a Feather Light Charm to the backpack, though. We’re athletic, not stupid.

After a leisurely lunch and some more pleasant activities (Privacy Charms are a grand invention) we decided to hike back down to Busteni and explore the town before dinner. We had seen a few other people on our hike, but not very many, so it was rather unexpected to round a corner on the trail and see a somewhat familiar form coming towards us. As it was, she recognized us first.

“Harry? Ginny?” the blonde form called out and began to jog towards us.

As she drew closer, Harry identified her first. “Lavender?” She greeted us both with a quick hug.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.

“Hiking,” she replied dryly.

I stomped my foot. Childish, perhaps, but we were all smiling. “Lavender Brown, that is not a helpful answer! Try again!”

She laughed. It was not the girlish giggle that had permeated the Gryffindor common room, but a full-throated belly laugh. That, more than anything, caused me to take the proverbial step back and really look at her. I had only seen Lavender a few times since she left Hogwarts – she was at our wedding, of course, but I hardly remember anything about that day – and she had changed in the intervening five years. She hadn’t changed much in height, but was leaner now, more refined. She had lost the last traces of childhood and clearly was taking care of her body. Her hair was longer than I remembered it being, and was pulled up into a high, plaited, ponytail. She looked perfectly comfortable in the Muggle clothing she wore, and her hiking boots, backpack and water bottle all showed obvious wear. That was the biggest surprise to me – I never would have guessed that the girl who could spend hours obsessing over a magazine and her nails would be an outdoorsy type.

She opened her mouth to respond but then stopped as she spotted someone else coming up the trail. “Hey!” she called out. “Look who I found!”

The other person hurried their steps, and shortly I was hurtling myself down the path at them.

“Charlie!” I squealed. Yes, squealed, I’m not ashamed to admit it. I hadn’t seen my second oldest brother since the previous Christmas – one of the reasons we had chosen Romania as our second destination – and I was thrilled to have run into him here.

After a brief round of hellos, I looked back and forth between my brother and Lavender. “Wait a tick, you’re here together? How do you even know each other?” Not the most tactful thing to say, I’ll admit. Behind me, Harry chuckled. He’s well acquainted with the Weasley ability to speak without thinking. I think he and Hermione have a private bet going over whether Ron or I will get ourselves in to bigger trouble first.

Charlie smirked and ruffled my hair. Honestly, sometimes I think he forgets that I’m almost 23 and married, for goodness sake! On second thought, he doesn’t forget. He does it just to annoy me. “Who, her? I just picked her up along the way,” he said and then promptly jumped out of the way of Lavender’s smack.

“No, really. I’m not on duty this evening, so we decided to go for a hike since it was so nice out.” He turned back to Lavender with raised eyebrows, and she shrugged, seemingly in agreement. I narrowed my eyes and resolved to keep a close eye on them. I’d seen that kind of non-verbal communication before, but outside of the twins, only from married couples. Something was definitely going on here.

Oblivious – or at least carrying on like he was oblivious, with Charlie you can never tell – my brother turned back to us. “You two want to hike back down with us and have dinner together?”

“Sure,” Harry replied. “That sounds great.”

“Don’t think,” I said as I fell into step with Charlie, “I didn’t notice that you never answered my question. What in Merlin’s name is going on with you and Lavender Brown?” But try as I might, I couldn’t get an answer out of him. He blatantly ignored me, deftly deflected questions and otherwise kept our conversation firmly on other things for the entire hike down the mountain. He asked about the team and Harry’s job and the rest of our family and told me stories from the dragon preserve. Meanwhile, Lav kept my husband similarly occupied. Classic divide and conquer routine; Harry and I had used it many times at Ministry gatherings. Something was definitely going on.

Several hours later we were holed up in a pub, steaming plates of food in front of everyone and locally brewed droughts in our hands.

I then fixed my dear, recalcitrant brother with a glare. “Talk.” Charlie merely smirked and stuffed more food in his mouth to be prevented from answering. Lavender just rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, Ginny, it’s no big deal. Charlie is just being a pain in the arse as usual.”

“But how do you guys even know each other? It’s not like you were at Hogwarts at the same time, and Charlie hasn’t exactly been hanging around Diagon Alley…”

“Actually, we ran into each other for the first time on That Day,” she replied. I could hear the capital letters in her voice and knew exactly what she was talking about. It’s how most of us refer to it. The history books and newspapers may talk about it as the “Battle of Hogwarts” or some such rot, but for those of us who were there, who lived through it, it needs no other designation. “I had heard of him, of course, but that was the first time we’d ever met.”

*************************

Debris littered the hallways, paintings were scratched and suits of armor had been blasted apart – all mute testament to the running battle that was being fought all over the school and grounds. She had been seeing the last of the students off to the Hufflepuff common room – the most secure place they could come up with to hide the younger years. Most of the older ‘Puffs and some Ravenclaws had volunteered to stay behind with the little ones, leaving her free to go join the fight again.

She crept through the corridors as carefully as she could, mindful that there were still Death Eaters about. As she rounded one corner, she nearly ran smack into a solid shape coming around from the other way. She was about to go for her wand when a voice called out, “DUCK!” She did so, on a reflex trained into her first by Harry and then later by Neville – when someone screams “duck”, you do so first, ask questions later.

Above her a few spells flew by and then she heard “ Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus! Incarcerous!” in rapid succession. She turned to see that a Death Eater, now Stunned and tied up, had been sneaking up behind her. She turned back to the other person in the corridor. A hand reached out to help her up off the floor, and she looked up to see red hair and freckles.

“Thanks,” she said, accepting the hand. “You must be a Weasley. Charlie, right? I’m Lavender Brown.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he gave a little half grin and Lavender felt her stomach flipflop. “Ah, you’re the one who went out Ron for a while, right?”

Lavender blushed and tried to ignore the fact that an extremely good looking guy was still holding her hand. “Uh, yeah. We did. I did, that is. I hope you won’t hold that against me,” she replied with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile.

“Nah, everyone has bouts of temporary insanity.” They smiled at each other and then both seemed to realize they were still holding hands; simultaneously, they pulled back with a jerk.

“Thanks, ah, for the help there. I should have been more careful,” Lavender said, turning back to the bound body lying on the floor. “Expelliarmus!” A wand came flying towards her, which she deftly caught and calmly snapped in half. “No sense in leaving him armed, just in case someone on the other side comes along,” she explained in response to Charlie’s surprised look.

“Very practical.”

Lavender grinned at him again and then forced herself to calm down. This was no place for flirting. “Come on, I think most people have made it outside at this point. Let’s go see where we can help.”

********************

“We didn’t see each other again until your wedding,” Charlie added, having apparently decided to play nice for the moment. “We got to chat a bit then, and I discovered that Lav is really easy to talk to.”

********************

The bell above the shop door tinkled, and in the back room, Lavender swore under her breath. She was so close to being able to go home early. Out front, she heard Marielle greeting whomever had just come in. Maybe if she could just finish up the hem of this robe, she could sneak out the back way.

“Lav, got another for the Weasley/Potter wedding,” Marielle called out. No such luck.

Swearing silently to herself again, Lavender replied, “Send them into the leftside, I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Right this way, sir,” she heard Marielle directing the customer. She finished up her hem as quickly as she dared, and then dug around for the rolls of parchment that held all the information about her friends’ wedding. It seemed like half the Wizarding world was invited, and a third of them were somehow in the wedding party itself. She glanced through the list of people who had yet to come in for a fitting – there weren’t very many, a week before the event – and wondered who she would be fitting.

“Good evening, sir, and welcome to Madam Roques. My name is Lavender and I’ll be -” she looked up to see a familiar form lounging bonelessly in the chair. “Charlie!”

“Heya, Lavender. How are you? I didn’t know you worked here.”

“For a few years now. I was lucky, Madam Roques doesn’t care who she hires as long as you’re good with a needle and have some ideas she likes.”

“Muggle-born then?” Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow. Everyone who went to Hogwarts knew of the trouble some Muggle-borns had, trying to get jobs in the Wizarding world. Each year, some of them eventually gave up and went to uni or took a Muggle job.

Lavender shrugged, but didn’t deny the statement. “All right, stand up and lose the shirt. I can’t fit you properly otherwise,” she commanded with a grin. Charlie complied with a bemused look and Lavender gulped audibly. She knew Charlie was built similarly to the twins – or rather, they were built similarly to him – but hadn’t really thought about what that implied. Now, confronted with his broad, well-muscled chest, she stared unabashedly, trying to fight down the blush that was making her cheeks hot. Charlie, too, was blushing, but he also smirked at her as he stepped up onto the fitting pedestal.

“So what do you like best about working here?” he asked, as Lavender set several tape-measures flying around him with a flick of her wrist. Lavender was used to customers humoring her as she took their measurements, but a quick glance up – past the chest, thank you – told her that he was genuinely interested in her answer.

“Designing,” she replied honestly. “I’m decent with a needle, but nothing spectacular. I’ll never be a really great seamstress, even with magic. I love designing clothes, though, seeing how to improve on traditional designs, coming up with new ones, figuring out what fabrics work best with what styles.” She chuckled slightly, mostly to herself. “When I was little, I always had a sketch book with me, even when I was camping with my parents. I’d climb a tree and spend hours drawing dresses.”

“That’s amazing,” Charlie commented. “I’ve never been any good at visual arts. I get pictures in my head, sometimes, like of how the dragons move. But I don’t have the skill to get them out of my head and into a form where someone else could see them too. Have you ever had a chance to actually make one of the things you designed?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Lavender asked slyly. Charlie nodded solemnly and drew a cross-mark over his heart. “I actually designed all of the robes for Harry and Ginny’s wedding. But we’re not telling anyone, not even Ginny. Normally, for such a large and high profile order, Madam Roques herself would design and oversee everything. But Harry tracked me down and specifically asked that I do them, and…”

“Whatever Harry wants, Harry usually gets,” concluded Charlie. “That’s fantastic. Ginny showed me her robes last night, they’re amazing. Do you think you’ll ever be able to tell anyone?”

“Maybe in fifteen or twenty years when I’m a world-famous designer,” she replied with a grin. “But it doesn’t really matter to me. Working on this was an amazing experience, and Madam Roques only had a few changes and suggestions to make. She seemed really pleased with what I had come up with. That alone is the most valuable thing I could get out of this.” She paused and checked the parchment. “You’re all set. I’ll need you to come back on – hmm, Wednesday? – to try on the robe so we can do any alterations necessary.”

Charlie nodded amiably and proceeded to – with what to Lavender was excruciating slowness – put his shirt back on. He turned to leave, but paused once.

“Lavender? Save a dance for me at the wedding, will you?”

Lavender nodded, grinning broadly. But she, heroically, refrained from squealing in pleasure. At least until she had retreated to the back room and thrown up a few hasty Silencing Charms.

********************

“So after the wedding we started writing to each other, every so often at first, when one of us had a story we were sure the other would appreciate, and then more and more often. Poor Miranda nearly wore out her wings. So finally we started getting together for dinner, or hikes, or matches, despite the distance. It just became so easy to spend time together that we kept finding ways to do it. I don’t think it ever occurred to either of us to stop,” Lavender continued.

********************

Charlie looked down at the scrap of parchment in his hand, double checking the address. He and Lavender had been planning all week to go out on Friday night, but they had dithered back and forth over what they wanted to do. Finally, last night he had received a quick note bearing a time, address and a simple phrase: “Dress Muggle.” He was no stranger to the Muggle world, and what little discomfort he might have had with it had been erased by the previous six months.

Lavender, as he had suspected, was Muggle-born, and was desperately trying to balance the two worlds she knew. As they had started to spend more and more time together, Charlie found himself in the Muggle world as often as the Wizard. Quidditch and football matches were attended with equal regularity, and they were as likely to spend a day at a Muggle zoo as they were wandering around a Wizard shopping district.

Tonight was different, though. There was a charge between them that hadn’t been present a few months ago. They were finding more and more excuses to see each other – at least once on weekends and often, these days, at least once during the week. They touched each other more too; hugs lingered a moment or two longer than they did before, a hand placed on the back or arm for guidance remained for an extra second. Something was building between them. Charlie only hoped that Lavender felt it too.

Rechecking the address and time one last time, Charlie strode confidently into the restaurant. He was glad he had chosen to wear nice trousers and a button-down shirt, rather than jeans. This restaurant was nice. A brief exchange with the maitre’d informed Charlie that his companion had not yet arrived, so he took a seat at the bar. Thus, he was in a perfect position to see Lavender when she walked in. She searched for a moment and then spotted him, her face lighting up in a brilliant smile. Charlie’s heart skipped and then began to beat a tattoo in his chest, double time.

“You look… amazing,” he said, trying not to stutter. She smiled and blushed lightly, taking his hand as they made their way over to the maitre’d.

Later, Charlie couldn’t say what they had talked about over dinner, nor what he ate. What he did remember was the stray curl that had escaped down Lavender’s neck, just begging to be played with; the way the pale blue of her dress set off the creamy white of her skin and the yellow of her hair; the way her eyes danced and sparkled.

Moments later, it seemed, Charlie found himself standing on the pavement outside the restaurant again.

“Where to now, fair lady?” he asked. With a shy smile, Lavender took his hand and laced her fingers through his. Charlie held back an audible sigh, marveling at how right it felt.

“I thought we might take a walk and then go dance off the rest of that meal.”

Charlie gave a concerned glance downwards. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with that?” he asked with a look at the strappy, high-heeled sandals Lavender was wearing.

She grinned at him and lowered her voice. “They’re a Patil special – Parv pitched a fit one day when she couldn’t find any shoes that were both comfortable enough to dance in and looked good with the dress she was wearing. Shortly after that, she and Padma sat down and worked out the charms. These babies are as comfortable as my trainers and are charmed so that I’ll never break the heel or turn an ankle.”

“They could make a fortune with that!”

“I know, I’ve already got them an appointment with Madam Roques. Consider this a trial run of the product.”

“We’ll have to make sure to give them a thorough testing, then.”

An hour later, Charlie was in heaven. The other-worldly feel of the nightclub’s dance floor was only enhanced by the women he held in his arms. Smoke curled through the air, making the dim lighting a tangible substance. The beat of the music reverberated through the floor, up his legs and merged with the beat of his heart thumping in his chest.

The music ended, pausing briefly before moving onto the next set but Charlie and Lavender remained frozen for an instant. Holding his breath, Charlie reached a hand behind her neck only to find she was reaching up to draw him closer. Their lips touched and they were lost for the rest of the night.

Marveling at how well they fit together, Charlie finally understood what all the fuss was about.

***********************

“But what could you guys possibly find to talk about?” I was thoroughly mystified now.

“Ginny,” Lavender said gently, “how much do you know about my family?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but then shut it and thought furiously back through all my conversations with her, anything I might have overheard in the common room or their dormitory, anything that Hermione might have mentioned. Nothing.

“You never mentioned anything,” Harry replied quietly. “You seemed to be best friends with Parvati from the beginning so everyone assumed you already knew each other, and therefore had grown up in the Wizarding world. But you didn’t, did you?”

Lavender shook her head. “I’m as Muggle-born as you get. My parents are both zoologists.”

“Muggle version of a Mastery in Creature Studies,” Charlie clarified, seeing my confused look.

****************

Charlie fidgeted with the collar of his shirt for the fifth time in as many minutes, and Lavender rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, you look fine, luv. Just relax, my parents are going to love you.”

“But what if they don’t, what if they think I’m too old for you or – “

“They won’t. I told you before, I’ve tried to be pretty open with them about the way the Wizarding world works. They understand that my life expectancy is suddenly nearly double what theirs is, and so a seven-year age difference really isn’t that much.”

“But what if I say something really stupid?” Charlie asked plaintively.

Lavender kissed him on the cheek and tried not to laugh. “You won’t. You spend nearly as much time in the Muggle world as I do these days. And you can always ask. They’ll be asking you questions, too. Now, enough stalling, they’re expecting us.”

With a final squeeze of her boyfriend’s hand, she turned to the mantel and grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder.

“Brown Menagerie,” she stated and stepped into the green flames.

Despite his nerves, Charlie smiled. The first time Lavender had told him the Floo address of her parents’ house, he’d burst out laughing. After whacking him across the head, she’d explained that even in the Wizarding world, “Brown” was a fairly common family name, and so she’d had to do something to make their address unique.

Now, he followed his girlfriend through and tried to prepare himself for that most dreaded of tasks, Meeting the Parents. He appeared in a comfortable looking living room and cleaned himself of any residual soot with a quick wave of his wand.

Lavender reached out and took his hand. “Charlie, this is my father, Thomas. My mum, Anne, is still in the kitchen, she’ll be along shortly. And, Daddy, this is my boyfriend, Charlie.”

Charlie reached out to shake Thomas’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir. I hear we have a profession in common.”

“Oh? Lavender didn’t mention. What do you do?”

“I work on a wildlife conservation, in Romania.” A twinkle in the redhead’s eyes caused the older man to lift his eyebrows.

“Conserving what, exactly?”

“Dragons.”

************

“I met Padma and Parv on the platform,” she continued, “and we just clicked right away. The Patils might be pure-bloods, but their family has had dealings in the Muggle world for decades, so they didn’t look at me like I was nutters when I talked about telephones and microwaves. They, more than anything, helped me adjust to the Wizarding world.”

“You never said anything,” Harry said tentatively and Lavender shook her head.

“I didn’t want to stand out. I saw how everyone looked at Hermione, when she went on and on about being the first witch in her family. I didn’t want that kind of attention; I just wanted to fit in. And, I suppose, I wanted to try being someone totally different than I was at home.”

Now I was totally confused. The Lavender I knew at Hogwarts wasn’t the real person? Or she was, but there was another whole side to her?

“Growing up, she was a bit of a tomboy,” Charlie explained. “She’d spend her summers tromping through Exmoor with her father, who is a conservation researcher for the park. It’s a lot like what I do, only he works with the whole ecosystem, not just one species. Her mum is one of the reptile keepers at the Colchester Zoo.”

Lavender laughed. “In primary school, I was the only girl who didn’t scream when they found a garden snake in the playground one day. Mama is forever bringing home snakes and lizards that need ‘just a little bit of extra love’ to get back to health.”

“But, but, but,” I spluttered. “You were so different! So-so-”

“Girly? Yeah, I know. Like I said, I wanted to be someone totally different. And Parv was in to all of that stuff, so it was easy. And it’s not like I don’t enjoy it; I really do. But that isn’t all there is to me. Every summer when I got home, I’d wash all the makeup off, throw on my rattiest pair of shorts and run up to the moor and spend a week camping with my parents. I loved being at Hogwarts, but sometimes it was tough being such a different person.”

“It wasn’t until we had a couple of long conversations that I convinced her –”

“Beat me over the head with it, you mean,” Lavender interrupted.

“Well, that too,” Charlie replied with a grin. “Anyway, I finally convinced her that she didn’t need to hide so much from the Wizarding world – working as a fashion designer and hiking up a mountain or screaming your head off at a football match aren’t exactly mutually exclusive pursuits. So I’ve been trying to get her to loosen up a little bit, and just be the amazingly cool person that she is.”

“And that’s when I realized that Charlie was probably the best friend I could ever have.”

“What about Parvati? You two were inseparable!” I asked. I supposed it didn’t really matter, but I was curious just how much the Lavender I thought I knew had changed. It was hard to imagine any girl being best friends with Charlie, let alone one that had spent two hours a day on hair and makeup at Hogwarts.

“We’re still pretty close, and I love her to pieces, but, well. People change, Ginny. Parv is great for a girl’s night out or a weekend at a spa, but these days I’d rather have a long conversation with Padma. I might work in a clothing store, but that doesn’t mean it’s all I think about.”

“One of the first conversations we ever had, remember that one, Lav? We were up until about three in the morning, talking about everything from endangered species protection to the state of the Ministry to the Wasps’ chances that season. And that’s when I proved that I am my mother’s son and make a mean apple pie.”

Lavender laughed again, that big, free laugh that I was beginning to associate with this new person I was discovering. It was hard to think of her as the same person I had known at Hogwarts, so I resolved then and there to simply treat her as someone I was meeting for the first time – my brother’s best friend. And probably something more, if my instincts were correct. But it doesn’t matter, I guess. They’ll tell us when they’re ready, and then I can tease the living daylights out of them. Until then, I’ll just enjoy my dinner, the beer, and the company of some good friends.

*********************

In a small cabin in a remote part of the mountains, two people prepared for bed.

“Think we fooled them?” the redhead asked.

“Not a chance,” replied the blonde. “Harry might have missed it, although he has got more observant. But not much gets by your sister. She probably had it figured out within the first five minutes.” She hesitated for a moment, pausing in front of the mirror where she was brushing out her hair. She looked into it, past her own reflection, into the eyes of her partner. “Charlie, why are we still hiding it?” Old doubt crept into her voice.

The man behind her sighed. “Because as soon as any member of my family gets the slightest hint that we’re together, we will immediately be subjected to a Howler from Mum, screaming at us for not telling her sooner. That will then quickly be followed by incessant badgering about when we will be getting married. I don’t want to subject you to that. Or me,” he added wryly.

Lavender gave a little half smile but then looked down at her hands. “What if – what if we did want to get married, though? It wouldn’t be so bad then, right? Because we could actually give her an answer.”

Charlie stood stock still for a moment and then flew to her side and crouched down beside her. “Do you really mean that? You want to get married?” He tried to keep his voice level, but hope and anticipation came through.

“Not – not right away. But I think maybe we could start thinking about it. We’ve been together for almost three years now, and I can’t imagine being with anyone else…” Finally, she looked up at Charlie. With a whoop, he picked her up, spun her around and kissed her soundly.

“This is great!” he said a little breathlessly. “But we can’t tell Mum right away or we’ll never have any peace and I don’t want to go through what Bill and Fleur did and I know we have a lot of details to work out and I’m not sure where we’re going to live because I really don’t want to leave here but that makes it awfully long for you to Apparate every day and… oh, we’ll have to find you a ring, do you want to come with me or do you want me to surprise you and -”

Laughing at the flood of words pouring forth, Lavender finally ended it by the simple expedient of kissing him again.

Sometime later, when they finally came up for air, Lavender propped her head up on one hand and stretch out on the bed, where they somehow had found themselves.

“Now, to answer some of those questions you had, I would love a proper ring and I would love to help you pick it out. But I think we should probably ’officially’ introduce me to your family before we do that. I can’t imagine your parents would react very well if we just showed up one day and I had a ring on. Mine will be thrilled, though. They’ve been so good about not pestering me, but I can tell Mama has been dying to ask if we’re ever going to get married. As for where we’ll live, well, I wanted to talk to you about that anyway…”

“Oh?”

“I told you that Madam Roques wants me to start taking a greater role in the shop. I think she’s just given up trying to teach me how to stitch evenly, even with magic. Anyway, she wants me to concentrate more on design and let the other girls handle the fittings. But she also wants me to start doing a lot more of the buying for the shop. She says I have a good eye for fabric and enough backbone not to let the suppliers take advantage of me.”

“That’s great, but what does that have to do with where we’re living?”

“Because,” she explained patiently, “it means I’ll be traveling a lot. So Madam Roques is going to get me a Portkey Creation license, under the Small Business Provision.”

“Oh. Oh! OH.”

“Yes, oh.” Lavender smiled at Charlie’s growing comprehension. With unlimited Portkeys at their disposal, it wouldn’t matter where they lived. “So I was thinking, we give our families maybe six months to get used to the idea, and then maybe we can start looking around for a place to move in together. I know you’ll probably want to stay around here, and that’s fine with me.”

“I think that sounds like a brilliant idea.” He started to kiss her again seriously, but suddenly pulled back and groaned, and not in pleasure.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My sister is going to kill me. We just spent an evening telling her that we were best friends, and now we’re going to turn around and announce that we’re not only dating, but eventually getting married? I’m so dead.”

Lavender giggled and kissed the consternation off of Charlie’s face. “Ginny will get over it and Harry will prevent any fratricide. He wouldn’t want to do the paperwork it would cause. Besides,” she added as an after thought, “we didn’t really lie to them. We are best friends, after all. And who better to spend the rest of my life with than my best friend?”

———————-

A distant rumble of thunder and the sound of rain on the tent woke me from a restless sleep.  Bleary eyed, I looked over at my fellow guardian sleeping in the other bed in the small room.  Lulu was fast asleep, as usual.  I swear, the mage could sleep through a heard of rampaging shoopufs.  It’s a good thing, too – Wakka’s snores could wake the dead.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to getting no more sleep that night.  I grabbed couple daggers, my belt pouch, and Godhand, strapped a targe to my wrist and silently made my way out the door.  Impulsive and hyperactive I might be, but stupid I ain’t.  I wasn’t planning on venturing away from the Agency, but neither was I going to take the risk of coming upon fiends unprepared.

I nodded to the man at the counter – Rin keeps his Travel Agencies well staffed at all hours, knowing that summoners and fiends keep no regular schedule – and I made my way outside.  I avoided the restoration sphere, out of habit.  Wonderful things, they are – full healing for all that ails you, able to bring anyone back from the brink of death; but while they might revitalize you, they were no substitute for a good night’s sleep.  I didn’t particularly want the jolt of adrenaline that it would provide me.

I silently crept around the tent – hey, I’m a thief, sneaking is second nature to me – and found a secluded spot, sheltered on three sides by supply crates and covered enough by the overhang of the tent that I wouldn’t get soaked.  The lights that shone on the outside of the Agency were muted by the soft rain that was falling over the Calm Lands, providing three or four feet of hazy visibility before being swallowed by the darkness.

I plunked myself down on the soft grass and leaned up against a stack of crates, staring out into the darkness.  There was another rumble of thunder and then the flash of distant lightning illuminated the endless plains to where they fell off suddenly into a gorge.  It was funny, as terrified as I am of lightning, this storm didn’t seem to bother me.  Perhaps the journey through the Thunder Plains had finally cured me of the debilitating fear.  Or perhaps facing and defeating the unsent form of Lady Yunalesca was enough to trump such mundane terrors as a force of nature.  Whatever the reason, I was able to listen to the rain and watch the darkness without being reduced to a quivering mass.

I do not know how long I sat there watching the darkness and lightning, but eventually I caught a sense of movement out of the corner of my eye.  Cursing to myself for my inattentiveness, I jumped into a crouch and readied my Godhand to strike at whatever fiend had snuck up on me.  I only hoped it wasn’t a Malboro; most other fiends in the Calm Lands I could handle myself at this point, but one of those might give me problems.

The dark shape came closer and in the weak light resolved itself into a familiar red-clad figure.

“Tyssed, Auron” I swore, sinking back down to the ground.  “Don’t scare me like that!”

Unsurprisingly, my fellow guardian said nothing, merely leaning up against a stack of crates, in his typical casual-but-alert posture.  I didn’t expect anything else, really.  Auron is a man of few words on the best of days, and not one to waste them responding to the complaints of a silly little Al Bhed girl.  Since he did not seem inclined to say anything, I returned to my thoughts.

Sometime later, the silence was broken again, and for once, it wasn’t by me.

“How are you?” he asked, his low voice just barely audible over the thunder.  The unexpected gentleness and sincerity of the question surprised me into an honest answer.

“I’m – I’m – holding on by a thread,” I replied with a lopsided smile.  My voice was pitched slightly higher than usual and even I could heard the brittleness in it.  He frowned at me for a moment and then put down that hideous monstrosity he calls a sword, leaning it up against the crates.

“Come here.”  His voice was laced with command, transforming the request into an order.  And after so many months traveling together, I responded automatically.  We all did, really; when Auron used that tone of voice, even Lulu obeyed without question.

He held his arms out slightly to me and suddenly I found myself wrapped in a strong embrace.  This act of kindness and comfort, so unexpected, took my breath away.  That final thread I had been hanging onto for dear life snapped, and I broke down crying for the first time since my mother died.

Now let me get something straight – I am my father’s daughter.  Pops and I both only have one way of responding to things that frustrated or upset us.  We get mad.  Fit throwing, machina smashing, screaming so everyone in Spira can here you, M-A-D.

But there in that oh so unexpected, oh so comfortable embrace, my anger drained away and I cried.  I cried for my mother, taken from me too soon.  I cried for Aunt Corrine and Lord-Uncle Braska, both taken by Sin.  I cried for Keyakku and for Home. I cried for Yunie, even though we had rejected the Final Aeon and the summoner’s sacrifice.  And finally, I cried for the man who held me, solid and unmoving as Mt. Gagazet, who had denied himself the peace of the Farplane in order to fulfill a promise.  I cried until I had no more tears, my eyes were swollen and I could hardly breathe.

Eventually my breathing slowed and my death grip on the fabric in my hands relaxed, but still I did not move.  I could feel the warmth of his breath in my hair and I nearly fainted from shock when I felt him drop a kiss on the top of my head.  He shifted slightly and a handkerchief suddenly materialized in front of me.

I wiped my face and toyed with the small piece of fabric in my hands, trying to work up the courage to look Auron in the face.  I was completely off balance and had no idea what had just happened nor what would happen next.

“I’m-I’m s-sorry,” I started as I handed him back the slightly damp cloth.  He cut me off with a look, but in my head I finished the sentence.  I’m sorry I’m so weak, I’m sorry I broke, I’m sorry I’m no good as a guardian, I’m sorry I want nothing more than to hide in your arms and be held.

I started to speak again, eyes downcast, when he stopped me by the simple expedient of cupping my cheek in his hand and tilting my head up, just like he had done on the banks of the Moonflow so many – was it weeks? months? it felt like lifetimes ago.  I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, only half aware of what I was doing.

“Open your eyes,” he said.  This time, however, it was not command that laced the rough voice, but a trace of irony, maybe even humor.  He remembered too.  I complied once again, though with even more hesitancy this time than I had the first time.  On the banks of the Moonflow, I was preparing myself for rejection because I’m an Al Bhed – something I’ve had a lifetime to get used to.  Now, now I wasn’t sure what kind of rejection I was facing and I knew it would be all the more painful.

But when I did, I did not find rejection.  Instead, the normally stony visage had softened and Auron looked almost human, rather than the embodiment of the Legendary Guardian.  There was compassion in his face and perhaps even understanding.

“Rikku,” he began and my eyes widened.  How many other people, I wondered, had been privileged to hear these soft tones.  These were not the harsh, commanding sounds of the warrior, of the guardian.  This was the voice of the monk, muted and reverent, that chanted the prayers and sung the hymn; for a moment – just a moment – I understood the kind of piety that drove summoners and their guardians.  And I understood, too, the kind of pain he must have been in when he confronted Yunalesca, brash and full of anger, an act more impulsive than anything I’ve ever been accused of.

“Rikku, do not belittle yourself so.  ‘Tis not cowardice to weep,” he said, slipping into an older cadence of Spiran.  It was an intimate dialect, used only in personal prayers by the monks.   “Bravery does not mean never being afraid.  ‘Tis facing it, looking it in th’eye and knowing you wilt not stand down.  Thou art brave and strong, so bnehlacc, perhaps stronger than any of us.  Do not seek to be other than thou art, Rikku.”

He looked me in the eyes for a long moment and then continued in a more normal tone.  “And sometimes, being strong and brave means falling apart and trusting someone catch you and help put you back together again.”

I took several slow, deep breaths, and turned my head slightly to kiss his palm.  “Dryhg oui,” I whispered into it.  He nodded once and slowly lowered his hand and turned back to pick up his sword.  By the time he turned back to me, the Legendary Guardian countenance was back in place.  But it wasn’t really, not to me any longer.  Now that I knew what I was looking for, I could see the concern, the compassion, the humanity in every look, every movement.

“Get some rest,” he said.  “Tomorrow we have plans to make.”  With that, he melted back into the darkness, as silently as he had appeared.

I sank back down to the ground, exhausted from the emotional outburst.  Idly, I played with the divots in the ground that Auron’s sword had made, the only tangible proof of what had taken place.  I leaned my head back on the crates and stared out into the darkness once again.  This time, though, it did not feel so oppressive.  Somehow the storm had become cleansing and slowly I felt the broken pieces inside of me start to knit back together.  That thread I had been hanging on to was back, only now it was a full, thick rope.

I was still hanging on for dear life, but this time I knew there was at least one person on the other end, anchoring me.  And maybe, just maybe, I would make it after all.

Character(s): Tom Riddle

Rating: G

Challenge(s): Prompt #12: Throne

Word count: 100 (duh)

—————

He surveyed his kingdom from atop a silvery throne. Rolling hills stretched out as far as the eye could see. Servants kneeled before him, attending to his every need. Great lords bowed to his wisdom.

“Tom! Tom! Ms. Babcock says we need to go back now.”

With a sigh, Tom climbed off the swing and slowly made his way towards where the other children gathered. He gave a last, longing look at his throne, which now only swayed slightly in the breeze.

No matter, his kingdom would be there the next time they were allowed to play in the park.

rhap_chan

——————————————–

“The vhai‘d thing just won’t stay strung!” The exclamation was accompanied by a hiss and Saash flung away the offending hyperstrings and sunk to her haunches in the corridor. Had anyone passing by been able to see her, they would have seen a thin, tortoiseshell cat, with her fur all bristled. However, only a few select humans had the ability to see the cat crouched in an alcove of Grand Central Terminal: she was sidled, having taken a step sideways out of the visible spectrum of light. If anyone with the ability had been passing by, they would have also seen two other cats, reared up on their hind legs, paws and teeth sunk deep into the glowing hyperstrings that made up a gate, a portal used by wizards of all species for rapid transit between locations.

The bristling of her fur caused Saash to start scratching yet again, which lead to another bout of washing. Urruah, the largest of the three cats, twitched his tail in annoyance, but he too released the strings he’d been holding and flopped to the ground. The pervasive New York grit blended effortlessly into his grey tabby coat. The third cat, Rhiow, ignored Saash’s scratching; they’d been teammates for over four years now, and she had become accustomed to the gate technician’s quirks. Instead, she concentrated on the string currently clenched in her teeth, the one that allowed her access to the gate’s logs. By the time she too had released the strings, Saash had finished straightening her fur and Urruah looked to be half asleep, recovering from his recent outpouring of energy.

“I think you’re right, Saash,” Rhiow said with a sigh. “It simply won’t stay strung. We spend three hours working on the tether, and in two twitches of Urruah’s tail, it’s come undone, flapping in the breeze like some ehhif’s wash.” She glared at the gate in annoyance. It had been giving her and her team fits all week. Because of the omnipresent renovations going on in Grand Central, they had been forced to relocate the gate from it’s usual home down at the far end of one of the Metro-North train tracks. A week ago, they’d moved the gate’s locus to a small alcove in the Lexington Avenue passage, and had nothing but trouble since.

Rhiow lashed her tail in frustration and settled down in a crouch to think. “Do you think the gate is too close to it’s old locus point?” she asked slowly. “That it wants to snap back to the old track?”

“No way,” Urruah said definitely. “And anyway, if it had been inclined to do that, wouldn’t it have done so when you and Ffairh were moving it all over the place a few years ago? You never mentioned anything like this happening then.”

Saash flicked an ear in the negative. “Urruah’s right, Rhi. If this gate had been inclined to be a home-seeker, it would have done so then. This is definitely new behavior for it.” Urruah preened under Saash’s confirmation, and she cuffed him gently on the leg. Urruah was a young tom, not even two years old and had only been on the team for ten moon-rounds; he had all the ego and maleness of a tom coming into his prime. But he also had a strong commitment to his craft and a deep respect – almost bordering on reverence – for Saash’s knowledge of the gates. Not that that meant the two female members of the team didn’t enjoy puncturing his ego on occasion.

“So what now?” Urruah asked, standing up and shaking himself out. “Has anyone else heard of a gate coming lose like this before? I haven’t been able to get any answers out of Her, no matter how I ask the question.” Rhiow put her whiskers forward in commiseration: her own attempts to get answers out of the Whisperer had met with no more success.

“I asked the Penn team and they were as mystified as we were. I suppose we could ask the Tower Bridge team, or Tokyo, but…” Saash scratched again, betraying her discomfort with the idea. Personally, Rhiow agreed; they were supposed to be the senior gating team in North America. Having to ask one of the other senior teams on the planet was too much like an admission of defeat. But personal ego had no place in wizardry, and Rhiow knew that if asking one of the other teams for help would solve the problem then that’s what they would do. Putting her own feelings aside and making decisions for the good of the team – and the world – was one of the toughest tasks for Rhiow since she took over the team two years prior. At the beginning, she had alternately cursed and beseeched Ffairh’s memory almost daily; nowadays, she only wished desperately for her mentor about once a week. Stretching languidly, Rhiow made her decision.

“You two go and check the other gates – the last thing we need is for one of them to develop a sympathetic resonance or something like that. I’ll take this one down and put up a glyph redirecting any wizards to the gate at track… one sixteen?” she queried and Saash flicked her ear in agreement. The gate giving them so much trouble was a “local” gate, one designed for transit along the Eastern seaboard. The other three gates under their care were worldgates, designed for global – and off-world – travel; they could take a slightly heavier load.

As Saash and Urruah trotted off towards the tracks, Rhiow reared back up onto her hind legs and reached for the control string of the gate. With a deft flick of her paw the glowing weft of the gate structure went dim, just faintly there against the darkness, even to a cat’s trained eye. Next, she set a warding glyph, carefully picturing the diagram in the workspace of her mind and then tying it to the activation string of the gate: it would tell any wizards who might want to use the gate that it was out of commission. Lastly, Rhiow sat down, panting slightly from the wizardries she had just worked.

Tom? Rhiow called silently, inwardly, and yet at the same time casting outwards. I think we have a problem.

There was a momentary pause and then she heard a distinctly male, distinctly ehhif voice in her head. You sure know how to make a guy’s evening, Rhiow. I’m coming through Grand Central in half an hour anyway. I’ll see you then.

*******************************

“We’re going WHERE?” Saash hissed. Her ears lay flat back and her tail was lashing. Next to her, Urruah was calmer but no less surprised.

“Downside. I spoke with T’hom last night and he agreed that this may be the only way to fix that gate. Everything we’ve tried up here hasn’t stuck; so we go closer to the source. We need to check out the main control matrix…” Rhiow trailed off, hoping to leave it at that, but Saash narrowed her eyes even more.

“What else, Rhi? Spit it out. You’re keeping something back.”

Rhiow’s tongue flicked out to touch her nose. “And if we don’t find anything at the control matrix, the Advisory has authorized us to go… further. Down to the catenary.” Saash hissed again and started scratching vigorously.

Urruah stared down at the track below them and his tongue touched his nose, twice, very quickly. Then he straightened up. “So when do we head down?” A slightly twitch of his ears was the only thing that betrayed his underlying nerves beneath the tom-bluster and bravado.

“As soon as possible. Now, if you’ve got the spells, in an hour or two if you don’t.” Urruah’s eyes went vacant for a moment as he checked his own personal work space. Each wizard kept their most commonly used spells in there, just a thought or two away from completion. Other, less common spells either resided, dim with disuse, in the back of one’s workspace, or were provided by the Whisperer as needed.

“I have most of what I need,” he said, “but I’d like to add a few more things. What should we bring besides spells for the gate?”

Rhiow looked away. “What do you mean?”

“Great Tom’s balls, Rhiow! You know better than I do that we might not be the only ones down there. Especially if we have to go all the way down to catenary! We’ve got to protect ourselves if we’re going to do any good.”

Rhiow growled lightly and glanced at Saash. She was still scratching and washing and scratching again. No help from that quarter. “I do know that, but our job is to get in, fix the gate and get out. We don’t have time or energy for sidetrips that might or might not happen. Plan for the gatework, light and maybe some light defense. That’s all. I don’t want you weighed down with unnecessary spells.” Urruah plainly looked skeptical, but subsided into a curled up position that indicated he was conferring with the Whisperer. Rhiow turned back to the third member of the team.

“Saash?”

“I want it noted that I strongly object to all of this,” she said without looking at Rhiow. “There are a hundred things that I can think of that can go wrong, and probably a million more that I can’t even begin to imagine. There are a lot of things we could still try on the gate from here.”

“But you don’t think they’ll work.” Saash lashed her tail in concession to the point. “I don’t like it either, Saash, but I don’t think we have a choice. We’ve got to get that gate fixed, before it begins causing even more problems.”

Saash sighed and finally turned to face Rhiow. “I know. I just have a really bad feeling about this.”

“Thank you, Ha’an,” Rhiow muttered and Saash looked at her quizzically. “Never mind, ehhif thing. How soon can you be ready?”

“I want to run a few diagnostics on the gate and see how it’s behaving today. I’ll meet you at the westside gate in an hour.”

Rhiow watched her friend trot off. Please, Iau, let her just be paranoid. But Rhiow knew that a Person’s intuition was the best of all beings, and Saash’s was better than most People’s.

*************************************

Rhiow stared out the mouth of the cave at the fading twilight. It was the rainy season here Downside, and the sky weeped endlessly. Every now and then, a gust of wind blew the rain under the outcropping and splattered Rhiow’s large form. Her shiny black coat was matted in places, somewhat ruining the majestic jaguar-like form that she sported Downside, where People’s physical bodies once again reflected the size of their souls.

Rhi? You’d better come look at this, Saash called out silently, for her huge jaws were currently clenched around several hyperstrings. I think we’ve found the problem.

Rhiow turned away from the fading light outside and picked her way over to where Saash and Urruah were paw-and-jowl deep in the strings of the main control matrix for the Lexington Avenue local gate. Nearby, the matrices for the other Grand Central and Penn Station gates glowed, bathing the entire area in a warm light.

Urruah carefully released two of the strings from his mouth and then bit a third. Here, take these, he said, handing a bundle to Rhiow. Those are the left side tethers. They look like they ought to, right? Well, here, he handed her a second bundle, this is the right side.

Rhiow’s eyes widened as she took the strings. They’re flickering! They’re not supposed to do that! Sweet Dam of us all, what is going on?

That, said Saash, as she began to disentangle herself from the matrix, is a very good question. She scratched thoughtfully. The rest of the gate is structurally sound, which removes one major worry. If we could get it to stay in one place for more than a few heartbeats at a time, it would be completely operable. It’s only the tether strings that are causing the problems, and even then it’s one the right side ones. The left side and auwsshui’f-space tethers are perfectly stable.

“I wonder,” Urruah said outloud. “Do either of you remember when they were tearing up Va’an’ilt a few moons ago and they hit something they shouldn’t have? All the lights in the control tower started flicker.” He glanced meaningfully at the faintly flickering bundle of hyperstrings.

“You think something is disrupting the power to those strings? I suppose that might explain why sometime they’ll hold and the next moment they’ll fail. Saash, do you need to do a re-weave?”

“It wouldn’t help, Rhi. While you were checking the other matrices, I swapped out one of the strings on the right for a good one from the left. The new string did exactly the same thing. And the old one behaved just fine on the other side.”

“Fwau,” Rhiow spat. “I was really hoping to avoid this. Saash, Urruah, you’re sure there’s nothing that can be done from here to fix the problem?”

Urruah lashed his tail “no” and Saash looked mournful, an odd look for a large, tawny lioness. “If there was, I’d be claw deep in it already. I want to go down there even less than you do. But I’m afraid there’s no help for it. The power to those strings is being intermittently disrupted, and that can only be at the catenary.”

Rhiow sighed and mentally pulled forward the map to the catenary that Ffairh had left her, tracing out the route that they would need to take. Then she stood and squared her shoulders. “Alright, team, let’s go then. The sooner we get down there and straighten this out, the sooner we get home.”

The three large cats silently padded their way to the back of the cave and downwards into the belly of the great Mountain, largely unprepared for what they would find there…

——————–

A brief glossary of Ailurin terms used:

auwsshui’f (n.) sub-space (roughly)

ehhif (n.) human

fwau (ex.) damn, crap

vhai (adj.) damn, bloody

velvetmouse

minnow_53

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Remus was awakened by a cuff to the back of his head.

“What the HELL were you thinking, Moony?” a tantalizingly familiar voice asked. It seemed to be a rhetorical question, for the voice did not pause for an answer, but continued on in the same vein. Remus let the sound wash over him as he tried to recall what had happened.

Last he remembered, he had been fighting. At Hogwarts. Part of him remembered that he shouldn’t have been there at all. There was something else he was supposed to have been doing. Or taking care of. His mind skittered away from those thoughts.

With a sigh, Remus tried to refocus. Fighting. At Hogwarts. He had been helping someone. Protecting someone he cared about very much.

The voice in the background rose in volume and in pitch. Certain words began to penetrate the fog that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in Remus’s brain. Words like “idiot,” “irresponsible dunderhead” and “thought you were smarter than that.”

Remus smiled to himself. It was a familiar litany, one he had heard from James many times before, although it was usually directed at Sirius.

James?

Remus scrunched his eyes up tightly, resisting the urge to let them fly open. Maybe if he could remember what happened, and figure out where he was, then maybe he could understand why he could hear James ranting. He hadn’t heard James go off like this since the time in sixth year when Sirius had accidentally nicked all of Lily’s unmentionables and put them on display in the common room. The fact that Sirius had been intending to grab Lisa’s things, and picked the wrong drawer, had done nothing to mollify James.

Thoughts of James and Sirius logically led Remus to thoughts of Harry. Harry. That’s why he had been fighting, to help Harry. The fog in his mind seemed to ebb and swirl, and then perhaps thin a bit.

He had been helping Harry fight Death Eaters. Voldemort had come and Harry had to face him. Images came faster now, and more clearly. Many people had fought, including some of his former students. He had been facing a Death Eater, a high ranking one. Bellatrix? No, his opponent had been male. Dolohov. Yes. They had fought. But try as he might, the last thing Remus could remember was a flash of purple coming towards him.

Satisfied, now, that he had a pretty good grip of what had happened, and at least a reasonable guess of where he might be, Remus forced himself to slowly sit up and open his eyes. He automatically focused on the first thing in his line of vision, which happened to be a face. James’s face, wearing an expression that was a mixture of annoying and amusement. Quintessential James, really.

“So I guess this isn’t the hospital wing, eh, Prongs?”

James’s expression softened a bit. “‘Fraid not, old man. How much do you remember?”

“Fighting at Hogwarts. Fighting Dolohov. A purple curse coming at me.”

James nodded solemnly, but his eyes crinkled in annoyance again. “Why were you there, Remus? It wasn’t your fight. You had a wife and child to think of.”

Remus winced. He didn’t want to think about that yet. Desperately, he tried to dodge the question. “So this is… after? Not much to look at, but maybe there is more – ” He was cut off by a fierce glare from James.

“Shut. Up. Remus. You’re not changing the subject like that. Now answer the damned question. What the hell were you and Dora doing out there? You know you’ve now orphaned your son? It wasn’t your fight, dammit!”

“The HELL it wasn’t!” All of Remus’s grief and anger and frustration came bubbling to the surface. “I was there for YOUR son, James. I couldn’t be there for so much of his life, I had to be there for this! What would you have me do? Run away and hide?”

“Yes! To protect your wife and child!”

“Oh, because that worked so well for you and Lily.”

“Low blow, Moony. Low blow. At least we died protecting our son!”

“And just what the hell do you think I was doing out there? What sort of world would Teddy have if Voldemort won?”

“That wasn’t up to you, and that still hasn’t been decided yet. You know damn well that Harry is the only one who can end this. Everyone else should have stayed away, their deaths were -”

“Don’t you dare say it, James Potter! Don’t you dare say our deaths were meaningless or pointless or anything like that. Without us your precious son would never have gotten as far as he has. What the fuck is your problem, Prongs?”

“You know,” another voice interjected, “I can’t remember the last time I heard Remus swear this much.” Both men snapped their heads towards the newcomer, and Remus was unsurprised to see Lily emerge from the swirling whiteness that seemed to surround the area. “James, calm down,” she continued, laying a hand on her husband’s arm. “Remus made his choices. He can’t change them yet. Remus, James is just frustrated and you happened to be the first target he could take it out on. We’ve been watching, and if you think you felt helpless down there, imagine how we felt up here.”

Remus force himself to relax his hands from where they somehow had clenched at his sides. He smiled weakly at Lily. “I’m sorry, Lils. Just all this” he waved one hand, trying to encapsulate everything “is a bit much right now. Forgive me?” He was answered by a hug from both Potters. James opened his mouth to say something, probably unpleasant, given then stubborn set of his jaw, but Lily cut him off swiftly.

“We missed you, Remus,” she said softly. “We have a lot to discuss. But first I think there’s someone else who has a prior claim to speak with you.”

Remus turned in the direction that Lily was looking, to see another shape emerge from the whiteness.

“Sirius?” Remus moved towards Sirius, face alive with conflicting emotions. Sirius, however, held himself stiff and straight, and Remus could almost see him drawing the “Ancient and Noble House of Black” around him like a cloak.

“I would speak with you, Remus,” Sirius said formally. He nodded to James and Lily, spun on his heels, and began walking off without a backwards glance to see if Remus was following him.

“Sirius? Siri? Sirius! Sirius Black!” At the last call of his name, Sirius stopped suddenly. He looked around at the whiteness, then down at his hands or shoes; anywhere but at Remus. Finally, he looked up again.

“I would speak with you, Remus Lupin,” he intoned formally. Taken aback, Remus tried to remember the formal replies that James and Sirius had drilled into him; he hadn’t understood at the time why he might need to know the pureblood ritual formulas, but he had trusted his two best friends when they said it might be useful for him to know.

“I would hear the words of Sirius Black,” he replied hesitantly, unsure of the phrasing, unsure of the reason, hell, unsure of just about everything at this point.

“I would speak with you about the matter of a bonding.”

“A bonding?” Remus replied stupidly. Then he back-peddled, trying to formulate the proper response. “I would hear your words on the matter of this bonding.”

“The House of Black wishes to know why-“ Suddenly Sirius slumped, pureblood arrogance vanishing in an instant. “Why, Moony? How could you do that to me? How could you forget what we had like that? We were bonded, for Merlin’s sake! ‘My magic for yours, my life for yours.’ Does that sound at all familiar, Remus? I know we couldn’t do the big formal ceremony that we always talked about, but that doesn’t make the bond any less valid. You promised you’d never forget me.”

“Wha-what do you mean? You died, Sirius! I never forgot you, but you went and got yourself killed on me! By your bitch of a cousin!”

“I know how I died, Remus! And you might be interested to know that the same bitch killed your wife.” Remus paled. James’s words came back in a rush now: ‘You know you’ve orphaned your son.’ Oh Merlin, Dora! Teddy! “Yes, that’s right,” Sirius continued relentlessly, “you’re two for two. Dora couldn’t stay away from the fight either. Two lovers, both killed by Bellatrix. Impressive, wot? Dammit, Remus, wasn’t I good enough for you? You couldn’t even wait a decent amount of time before moving on? I die and the next thing I know you’ve taken up with Dora!”

“I – we – Dora and I – that is – you see -“

“Oh I saw, alright. What, you couldn’t have one Black so you settled for the next best thing?” Sirius barked a mocking laugh. “I guess I should just be glad you didn’t take up with Bella or Cissy.”

“Sirius-“

“Save it. I don’t want to hear your excuses, I don’t want to hear you apologize.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

Sirius sighed. There really wasn’t a good answer to that. “I don’t know. A promise you won’t do it again?”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s an issue, Padfoot.”

“You never know, Moony. You never know.” He gave Remus a half smile, which Remus tentatively returned.

“Are we – okay then, Sirius?” Remus asked quietly, hoping desperately to put this conversation behind him. Who knew being dead would be so exhausting.

Sirius gave the little half shrug that meant I’m still bothered by something but I don’t want to talk about it anymore and it was Remus’s turn to sigh. He had seen that motion far too many times.

“Tell me what you want me to do or say. I don’t want to spend all of eternity with my best friends mad at me. James already had a go at me, and I bet Lily is just waiting her turn.”

“Let’s drop it for now, I’ll think about it, okay? Part of me knows you didn’t deliberately set out to hurt me, but it was tough, ya know? Watching you and Dora.”

“I can only imagine.” Remus tentatively held out his hand, and was relieved beyond measure when Sirius reached out to grab it and squeezed once.

“Guys?” Lily’s voice cut through the whiteness, followed by her form. “Harry needs us.” Her eyes were red, as though she’d been crying, and there was a hitch in her voice.

“Huh?” was Remus’s intelligent reply. Sirius grabbed his hand and set off after Lily.

“I’ll explain what I can. You ever heard of the Deathly Hallows?”

Bemused, and still a bit confused, Remus trailed along behind, listening to Sirius’s half-coherent explanation of the Resurrection Stone. Dumbledore had always said that death was nothing but the next great adventure; he’d failed to mention that it was just as hard and complicated as life had been.

Fandom: X-Men Movieverse

Summary: After X1, Rogue muses on the process of growing up.

Most people grow up slowly. They ride the ebb and flow of responsibility and awareness from child to teen to adult, rushing forward one moment, retreating back the next. Most people have the luxury of hiding from the world sometimes, using one form of escapism or another to blur and dull the rawness of adulthood.

Even mutant kids grow up slowly. For all that Jubilee and Kitty had to grow up when lived on the streets, they’re still very much teenagers. They still see the world in black and white, put their heads together and giggle over a cute boy (or teacher) and can retreat in to the blissful ignorance of childhood self-centered-ness.

Not me. I don’t have that kind of luck. In 48 hours I went from child to adult when 150 years worth of life-experience got crammed into my psyche. I am 16 going on 160. First there was Logan, then Erik, then Logan again, just in case my brain-drain missed anything the first time around. And it’s not even the memories that forced me to grow up all at once – although those are bad enough, and will, no doubt, be the cause of many nightmares. No, the worst part is the awareness. The understanding.

A week ago, I looked at Scott Summers and saw the calm, cool, collected leader of the X-Men, and damn good math teacher. Now I see his insecurity around Jean, and I wonder if their relationship can last; I see his worry over what Magneto will do next; I see his concern for his students and friends. He has become multi-dimensional to me, all at once.

A week ago, I looked at Dr. Jean Grey and saw a beautiful (shaddup, Logan), immaculately put-together doctor who at once awed and inspired me. Now I see her frayed around the edges and I wonder how long the blocks that Charles put up will hold; I see her love for Scott and wonder what she needs to do to convince him; I see the last vestiges of the scared teenager who couldn’t stop the voices in her head. She’s still beautiful though. (Logan, shut UP!)

A week ago, I would never have seen beyond the immaculate wardrobe, sophisticated voice and wheelchair of Professor Xavier. Now, thanks to Erik, I see his flaws as well as his strengths; I see his stubbornness and his secrecy; I see his unflagging ability to only see the best in people and situations, an ability that will kill him one day. That will kill us all one day. The cynic in me got a double dose of reinforcement from Logan and Erik.

I suddenly have a deep, ingrained understanding of what it’s like to live paycheck-to-paycheck, wondering how the rent will be paid; what it’s like to make a huge decision like buying a house and all the hassle (and paperwork) that goes with that; I understand love, lust and heartbreak; I understand the frustration of not being able to follow your dreams; I understand predjudice and pain far better than my 16 year old body should.

It isn’t all bad, I suppose. I also know, deep down in the marrow of my bones know, what friendship and trust is. When Logan gave me his dogtags and promised to return, I’m sure everyone in the school saw a little girl with a huge crush on the man who had saved her life. A week earlier, they would have been right. But with my ill-gotten adulthood, “crush” or “worship” was not the appropriate description of my reaction. It was awe. And a little bit of shock. Because I knew exactly what he meant. I’ve got the man in my head, afterall. He wasn’t promising to come back to the school, or for a few pieces of insignificant metal, or even to me, little Marie. He was promising to come back to the one person he knew could understand him, who had looked into his own personal abyss and hadn’t run away. To the one person who kept him grounded in humanity. The trust he was placing in me was astounding, moreso because I understood. And he knew I did.

The day after Logan left, I went to the Professor and requested my own room. I sat there in his office and smiled and lied through my teeth. I was worried about Jubes and Kitty, I said. I knew I was going to have nightmares and at best I would disturb their sleep, at worst I could accidentally hurt them with a bit of flailing exposed skin. He gave me that grave, concerned look of his and I smiled right back, ever so sweetly. He knew I was lying, I knew he knew I was lying, and he knew I knew he knew. But I was clinging to the last bits of the childhood belief that if you don’t say something outloud, it isn’t real. He knew that too. That was okay, though. I knew neither the Professor nor Jean would let me hide in the tattered remains of my childhood for very long. They would drag everything out into the open soon enough, kicking and screaming if need be. They would both come to understand that I simply couldn’t share my space with two sweet, caring girls. They would learn that the adult in me needed space and privacy, just like they did.

So now I sit in my own, private room. It’s two doors down from Jean and Scott, so that someone is always near by when the inevitable nightmares and breakdowns come. It is also, I learned with bemusement, next door to the room that Logan will inhabit when he returns. I don’t quite know what to think of that, but neither do any of the uninvited guests in my head, so I suppose that’s okay. Being an adult doesn’t mean you have all the answers anyway. Or so I’ve learned.

“Just some old home movies that my parents made.” Hermione was seated on the floor of her parent’s living room, surrounded by boxes.

“What’re they?”

“Home movies?” Hermione asked in surprise. “Well, they’re sort of the Muggle equivalent of wizard pictures. Only they capture a whole length of time, not just one moment. Here, let me show you.”

Several hours later, Ginny’s sides hurt from laughing and Hermione’s face was burning.

“And I thought all the baby pics Mum has were embarrassing!” the red-headed girl crowed. “Just wait until I tell Ron!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Perhaps it was because I only had older brothers around. Boys don’t talk about those things, not with their baby sister. But I never did that kind of planning. It just never occurred to me.

So as I stand here, in a white robe, with flowers in my hair, I have to laugh. The tomboy who never dreamed of her wedding is about to have one that fairytales are based on.

Sometimes the best plans are the ones you didn’t make.