Hello my lovelies. I have missed you all.
Please read: This is a long / semi-choppy chapter to prep year 6. Also I forgot some extra / bonuses from year 5 so I plopped them in here. :)
Beta: Cloudy
(◕‿◕✿)
Extra one (during year five):
Tom reached forward and I felt a soft, brief pat on my bum. I turned around and raised an eyebrow in surprise at him. "Testing yourself again?"
"Yes," he said, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Aww. You're so adorable. You wanna pat it again?"
"No. I have reached a good goal," he said.
"Good job," I praised him.
He beamed.
(◕‿◕✿)
Extra two (during year five, second semester):
It was a quaint morning. Barely morning considering it was three in the morning, but that didn't matter to us. I had stayed up all night checking over Tom's math for some of his own spells, and in turn Tom had reviewed the drafts for some of my original spells. By two-thirty we had the munchies and Sil prepared us a hearty breakfast.
With a proper binder, Tom no longer had a debilitating appetite, but he still had an increased metabolism that meant he had at least three big meals a day. Sometimes four, and if he did a lot of heavy magic-work that day it'd be five.
We chatted while we ate, our conversation starting mild until it transitioned into us.
I was rather sleepy so I honestly wasn't paying much attention until he asked that question.
It startled me, and I stared at him for several seconds as I processed what he wanted to know.
"Uh..." I decided to buy myself some time by drinking some pumpkin chai milk tea. "Tom, you—er—you're under no obligation to satisfy me."
Tom raised an eyebrow at that. "But—"
"I—I've got two hands, and the capability of buying a couple of magazines," I said firmly. "I don't—er—require you to commit to that."
Tom's face screwed up. "Then you're getting gratification from someone other than me."
"I suppose technically yes."
His expression soured darkly and he stabbed rather viciously at his eggs. When he remained silent for another two minutes, I said, "I can't read your mind, dear. What's wrong?"
"I don't want you to be satisfied with anyone else," he said plainly, sullenly poking at his breakfast.
Not surprising given his inherently controlling nature.
"Well," I said, taking another sip from my tea, "what would you like me to do?"
He pursed his lips. "Come to me. That should be obvious, shouldn't it?"
"Nope," I said. "Neither of us knows your comfort zone."
"I'm not inept, Rosie."
"That's good," I purred flirtatiously out of reflex.
"Just—come to me," he said. "We'll make a—a—night of it."
"A whole night? Oh my." I peered at him. "Are you sure?"
"I have—I'm not—I'm still a man, Rosie. I want to do it with you," he said quietly. "And I want you to only do it with me."
"Okay," I agreed. "And whenever your desires ever arise—"
"I assure you, you'll be the first to know," he promised.
I beamed. "Yay. So... how much of a heads up do you want?"
His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a spontaneous person, Rosie."
"Could you.... Roleplay as one?"
"Rosie."
I giggled. "Okay, okay."
A pause.
"So can I sign up for a subscription...?"
He flicked my nose.
(◕‿◕✿)
Extra three (during year five, second semester)
Tom sipped some tea. "I'd like to try more today."
"Say the word, love," I murmured absently.
He patted the spot next to him on the loveseat. "If you would please."
"Yes, sir."
He stiffened at that. I caught it and smiled.
"Oh-ho? Is sir a yes or a no?"
"I don't know," he said after a moment of thought. "We'll try it again later. One thing at a time."
"Righty-o."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 1st, 1996
The Hogwarts train dropped us off a little after noon, I spent the next few hours talking things over with Sirius and Harry.
Before dinner, though, I had to head over to Lunar's Orchid. It was time to check up on Draco and Theodore. I wanted to make sure the two of them were settling in okay. I had the opportunity to sneak away when Harry told Sirius he wanted to practice some flying maneuvers.
"Hi, hi," I chirped as I hopped out of the vanishing box.
"Right on time," said Tom, extending a hand out to me. As soon as I gave him my hand, he kissed the back of it to elicit an immediate smile from me.
"Did you meet them yet?"
"I wanted to wait for you."
I beamed at him. "Aww. So sweet."
Hand in hand, Tom and I headed out of our home in Lunar's Orchid and to track down where Fenrir had taken Draco and Theodore. It wasn't difficult, Fenrir had already told me he planned to take the boys to their temporary living situation after the tour.
Anyo had graciously volunteered his home. The vampire planned on spending a majority of his summer between Rome and Cluj-Napoca to work on building our vampire-focused potions. After the sun-proof potion we developed an inhibitor. Vampires weren't able to get drunk off of regular booze and most magical alcohol didn't appeal to them, so... we dabbled. Lots of money getting old vampires drunk after they hadn't been able to get a buzz in a few centuries.
Anyo had already set up a couple of rooms for the boys, and I assured him I would pay for whatever they needed. Sil would be prepping their meals and handling their housework.
Anyo's home was a couple streets down from ours. It, like all the other homes in Lunar's Orchard, was a tudor-style, but Anyo had it painted a dark gray with dark oak wood accents.
We knocked on the door. A scarce minute later it swung open to reveal Draco.
"Hey," said Draco, running his fingers through his pale hair. I was pleased to note how at ease he seemed—a far cry from how nervous he was when we parted ways at Hogwarts.
"Hi," I chirped. "Can we come in?"
"Of course," said Draco, opening the door further. Stepping inside, I glanced around. To the right of the front door was a sunken in living room. Anyo had no need for a kitchen, so it was all one big den with a variety of comfortable seating and a central fire pit. Anyo loved having dinner parties and guests over, the house was accommodated with that in mind.
I was surprised to find only Theodore sitting down—no Fenrir in sight.
Frowning, I asked, "Where's Fenrir?"
"Something urgent came up," said Theodore, standing up from the couch. He adjusted his tie upon noticing I was not alone. "He took us here and had to go."
"I see," I said, wondering what the emergency was.
If he needs me, he knows how to find me, I thought.
"Right. Introductions, then," I said brightly. "Boys, this is my amante, Tom. Tom, these are my friends Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott."
Tom's arm rested comfortably around my waist as he subtly pulled me closer and offered out his other hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
That is such a smooth power move, I thought, fighting back my amused smile.
Theodore and Draco did not miss the implication, but both heirs were raised too excellently to present anything other than a smile in response. Theodore accepted Tom's hand first. "Likewise."
Draco shook Tom's hand next, cool gray eyes assessing. "You were at the Yule Ball."
"Correct," said Tom.
Theodore raised his eyebrows at that. Intrigued, he asked, "Alumni now?"
"Yes," he answered with a smile. "Rosie and I met at Hogwarts."
"Tom's staying in the village as well. If either of you two need anything, you can go to him," I said reassuringly. "I hope you'll like it here."
"Oh yes. What's not to love about seeing crowds of werewolves walking around in broad daylight?" drawled Draco with a raised eyebrow.
"Worgens," I corrected. "I assume you saw them in their fluffy forms?"
Theodore's flat expression amused me. He deadpanned, "Hard to miss. They said you were the cause of that?"
"Yep," I said proudly, beaming. "I perfected the curse."
"Are you planning to distribute it globally?" asked Draco.
"Uh-huh. After I unveil it to the public and finish reworking some laws through the Wizengamot," I said cheerfully.
Draco frowned briefly at that. "Do you have a voting seat?"
"Not directly," I admitted with a smile. I didn't elaborate that I didn't need one. If my boys were clever enough, they'd read between the lines and figure out who was behind the Wizengamot shift in power.
"With our fathers gone, their seats are technically absent," observed Theodore. "But we have their seals. We could mail in votes on their behalf if you want."
With a coy smile, I purred. "Really? You guys would do that?"
"If we don't vote your way, we might be blackmailed out of our seats, right?" said Draco with a knowing look.
My smile stretched into a grin. "You're growing up to be such a clever boy! I wouldn't blackmail you guys. It's good to have diversity and a wide variety of opinions in a democratic process. As long as those opinions and votes don't actively hurt the people I care about, I've no intentions of forcing my agenda."
Theodore gave a small scoff. He sharply pointed out, "Anti werewolf laws would piss you off though, right?"
"Yes."
"See, I for one, would rather not be on your shit list," said Theodore as he folded his arms across his chest. "Not while I'm still in Hogwarts and you're paying for my food and shelter over the summer."
"Clever boy," I cooed, reaching forward to pat his cheek. He rolled his eyes but bent forward to let me. "Are you both settling in okay?"
"As well as can be expected," said Draco. "I suspect food will be provided?"
"Yeah, my elf—Sil—will take care of you both. I'll also have her deliver some money every morning in case you want to eat at one of the shops instead. If you need anything, reach out."
"We will," said Draco.
I clapped my hands together. "Now that formalities are out of the way—how about a little game? I've been itching to play some Monopoly Mayhem."
Theodore's brow furrowed. "Monopoly Mayhem?"
"Magical Monopoly. It'll be fun."
"What's Monopoly?" asked Draco uneasily.
"You'll see."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 3rd, 1996
Early that morning I had a really bad night terror about Lily. My screams woke up Sirius and Harry who both moved me to Sirius's room—as it had a king sized bed—where I was held until soothed. Harry was able to fall back asleep in his animated form, but I found myself unable to.
Sirius kept me company, staying up with me and talking in a low voice about whatever I fancied.
Eventually the conversation moved on to how I cured the worgens and how I wanted to find a way to bring that cure to Remus.
"You really think Remus would be okay with my—with my alias?" I nervously asked. "He's such a goody-goody. And I say that with absolute love."
"He's got some firm morals, but he loves you," assured Sirius. "You practically cured his fluffy problem."
"Yes, but... I mean... Some of my worgens are people that he wouldn't... really... like."
"Like Greyback?" asked Sirius with a raised eyebrow. I nodded with a wince. "Yeah. He wasn't happy to hear about Greyback being protected at the village, but facts are facts. Since Greyback has been under the village's care he hasn't attacked or hurt anyone. As long as he stays in the village the Aurors won't go after him, right?"
"That's the deal," I mumbled. It was a heavy price to pay—I was practically the one footing the bill for Bones' department—but a necessary one. Fenrir Greyback had drastically changed over the years since entering the village. He played a critical role in serving and protecting the people there, and he acted as my trusted liaison. There was no benefit for him to be punished.
Morally, his victims had the right to demand for justice.
Practically, it didn't matter. I had the power, and I saw Fenrir as someone too valuable to throw away under the guise of "justice."
What's done was done. The dead had no right to claim power over the living. I was focused on the future, and on the betterment of werewolves as a whole. So what if a few suffered if hundreds benefited?
The only needle that pricked me in that thought process was Remus. He was a special case because he was someone dear to me. Although my practicably won out over my emotions it still bothered me. I wished I had an easy solution or easy answer to satisfy everyone, but I did not think such a thing existed.
Remus had every right to hate Fenrir, and desire his demise. I would not force forgiveness nor demand he accept Fenrir as anything other than the man who forcefully turned him into a werewolf.
Remus was a victim of a traumatic experience, and Fenrir was his abuser. That was a fact that could not be changed within this life or timeline.
Sirius reached forward and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Can't say I really understand, but I don't need to. You've always got our family's best interest in mind, princess."
"I try," I said.
"Sure did a lot," Sirius pointed out. "Your alias is the driving force behind a lot of werewolf laws that helped Remus out a lot. And just this summer you got a new legislation that would allow werewolf students to attend Hogwarts."
That legislation made me chuckle. I hadn't realized it was technically illegal for Dumbledore to have allowed Remus to attend. Grandpa didn't give a hoot, go him.
"Yeah," I mumbled.
"Remus doesn't hate your alias," said Sirius.
"Even though I'm associated with... Fenrir?"
"No one's perfect," he said with a grin. "Those were his exact words. Trust me and give him a chance."
I sucked in a deep breath. "Okay. But if he hates me forever I'm locking myself in my room and never coming out."
"Understandable."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Remus came over a few hours later. The four of us got situated in the den. One of the House Elves made up a little plate of petit fours with Earl Grey tea. I nervously sipped at my tea while Harry comfortingly held my hand. Remus was curious, but patient. He could tell there was something important to discuss, yet the werewolf refrained from broaching the subject until we were ready.
Then I began.
He listened with rapt attention. He did not stop to ask questions, did not react in any way other than a furrowed brow at certain points. The only time he said anything was when I admitted to my alias's name. At that, he was utterly flabbergasted and it took him several moments to recollect himself before I could continue.
When I was done, he sat back in his chair. He took a deep breath, both of his eyebrows raised. "Wow."
I nervously fidgeted. Harry rubbed my back and I leaned into him for support. Anxiously, I asked in a small voice, "Are you—are you mad at me?"
"At you—?" Remus shook his head. He rubbed his face then sighed.
"It's really not that bad, Moony. I always made sure she was home before breakfast," said Sirius with a happy smile.
That, apparently, was not the thing to say.
"You—YOU KNEW SHE WAS SNEAKING OUT?" Remus exploded, his face flushed as he whirled on Sirius. "And you did NOTHING?!"
Sirius shrugged, unbothered by Remus's anger. "I mean it was only for a few hours every so often. I did it a lot as a kiddo. I loved exploring London. Made a lot of friends. Made a lot of enemies. It was a grand time. I knew for a fact James did it as much as I did and well—"
Sirius fell quiet at Remus's mutinous expression. "She was a child."
"I turned out okay," I squeaked out, wincing when Remus turned to glower at me. "Please don't hate me."
Remus sighed. "Rosie, I could never hate you. I'm—I'm upset because I'm scared of what could have happened. I'm glad you're fine now, but please don't do something so dangerous again."
"I can't promise that," I admitted honestly. "Not with—you know. Everything going on. I can promise I'll do what I can to keep our family safe. But—but this isn't—Uncle, we aren't telling you this just because I wanted to come clean. As you know, I invented several potions for the lycanthrope curse."
"I am aware."
"Well this year," I said, "I did more than that. I created a ritual to perfect the transformation. A—A kind of cure, if you will."
Remus stared, slack-jawed. He blinked rapidly. "I'm—I'm sorry, what?"
"Uncle Moony," I said, "I have a cure for your fluffy problem if you want it."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
We Apparated as a family outside Lunar's Orchid after the sun had set. Anyo and Dumbledore were at the gates, quietly talking with one another as they waited for our arrival.
"Dumbledore?" Remus said in surprise.
"Good evening, Mr. Lupin," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Rosie thought you might feel more comfortable with my presence."
"So glad you could make it, Grandpa!" I chirped. "Didn't expect to see you, though, Anyo!"
"I couldn't miss an opportunity to talk with Albus," replied Anyo. He offered a polite nod to my family. "This is your family?
Smiling brightly, I did quick introductions then hurried over to hug Anyo and Dumbledore. Both of the older men accepted my hugs with good grace.
"Let's not waste much time—come on in," I said, pushing the gates to Lunar's Orchard wide open.
The first thing any person visiting the village would see upon entrance would be the cobblestone path. I leaned heavily into the fairy-tale tudor-style aesthetic when designing the village and encouraged all architects to keep that in mind. The cobblestone pathway was kept clean—I created several jobs in the village to maintain it, all of the jobs were taken up by previously homeless werewolves—and lined with lampposts lit by blue fire. The pathway circled throughout the large village, broken up by houses or shops. I had a fair few fountains, flower bushes, and trees scattered about to liven things up.
As it was a werewolf village first and foremost, a lot of the shops were kept open throughout the night. That night was no different. Dozens of villagers milled out the streets, each offering me a cheerful wave when they spotted me. A few called out a greeting that I joyously returned as I guided my family to a bakery.
The owner of the bakery was a cute woman who lost her voice in a werewolf attack. Fenrir had picked her up as a child and she had been a part of his pack ever since. After moving into the village she—like so many others—had a chance to start a new business. She loved the idea of being a baker and had stuck with it. Fenrir was awfully proud of her, boasting that she made bread fit for the heavens.
Having tasted her bread I couldn't disagree.
Sally Mane, the baker, had agreed to pass on the worgen curse to my uncle. I chose her because I knew she would be less-intimidating than others and because—
We stepped into the shop.
Sally Mane, in her worgen form, greeted us with a wave as she pulled a tray of carb goodness out of the stone oven. She used a magical perfume spray to guarantee none of her fur would fall off while she worked, so her work remained flawless in her fluffy form.
I chose her because she loved her worgen form. She loved her fluffy self and she was rarely seen outside of it.
I wanted Remus to see that. I wanted him to see someone who loved their furry little problem so much they couldn't bear to be without it.
"Uncle Remus, this is Sally," I said, signing as I talked. I wasn't very good at it. While I had memorized the movements, my form was sluggish and stiff. It was easy to tell I was an amateur at it. "Sally, this is my Uncle Remus. Do you remember what we talked about?"
"Yes," she signed, moving from behind the counter to stand before Remus. She stood at seven feet, towering above him as her tail waved behind him. "Now?"
"She wants to know if you're ready," I asked Remus, trying to sign. I blanked on the movement for ready for a few seconds.
"I—" Remus stared up at Sally with great surprise. "Yes?" He tentatively raised his right arm that was covered in several scars he had obtained during his adolescence. Sally gave it a sniff before she gently bit down. Remus grimaced, Sirius reached out to place a steady hand on his shoulder.
Sally withdrew her bite, took a few steps back, and nodded. Remus's eyes glazed over as the magic took hold. His body trembled. He grew weak in the knees and leaned heavily on Sirius for support. My godfather held up his childhood friend until—
Remus flexed and out popped his fluffy form in all its chocolate fur glory.
"Woo-hoo!" I cheered, clapping excitedly. Harry, Anyo, Dumbledore, and Sally clapped with me as Remus stumbled back and stared in awe at what he had become.
"Never would have dreamed," he whispered in a graveled voice. He looked up at me, tears falling out of his golden eyes. "Oh, Rosie. Thank you. Thank you."
He opened his arms and I ran into him. He held me tightly, shaking ever so slightly as he cried.
"I love you, Uncle Moony," I whispered, my eyes burning.
"I love you too my little princess," he rasped. "Thank you."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 7th, 1996
On a warm Sunday, I spent my morning flying with Iris, Harry, and Hedwig. We flew through the clear blue skies until our stomachs rumbled that it was time to eat. We enjoyed a quaint lunch with Sirius and Remus where Remus tried eating in his worgen form at Sirius's insistence. It was a delightful mess.
Harry wanted to go flying again afterward. Unfortunately for him I had other plans. I headed over to my home at the village.
Tom was enjoying his own lunch when I arrived.
"Tom, I'm going to have a guest over," I informed him, greeting him with a small kiss on the cheek.
Tom cocked his head. "Today?"
"Yes. I've invited her over for tea. Care to join?"
"Who is it?" he asked curiously.
"Berit Jäger."
Berit Jäger was a strong witch who ran several illegal brothels in magical Britain. Her only daughter was born with the lycanthrope curse. Prior to the village's construction, Berit had to lock her daughter up in the basement on the full moon and watch helplessly as she struggled with the monthly transformation.
Coming into the village was met with great relief for the witch. Access to the wolfsbane potion was difficult for her to obtain—even with the wealth procured from her profession—but what really helped the most was the support network. Berit was able to build strong relationships with other parents, and her daughter got to meet fellow werewolves around her age.
Berit was a strong witch, though, and one who did not settle for mediocrity. One did not become an untouchable brothel matron by settling. She was clever, patient, witty, and far more intelligent than what she'd lead her customers to believing. She had an assortment of blackmail and favor she had stockpiled over the years and used it brilliantly to expand her business and keep the Aurors off her back.
She did not wish to bring her brothel trade into the village—not due to any shame associated with sex work, rather she knew some of her clientele could be rough around the edges and didn't want to risk her new support group. But without her brothel, she was merely another witch in the village with a werewolf daughter.
Mediocre.
Which was why Berit was eager to curry favor with Enáretos by helping orchestrate some of the juicier scandals, and why she repeatedly made herself available to assist Fenrir in small jobs.
Eventually Berit had even become trusted enough that Fenrir had her put together the task force to rescue me from the Department of Mysteries last year.
I knew she was someone bright, and now with Fenrir vouching for her, I knew she was someone to be trusted.
She wanted a higher position in the village—it seemed about time to give her one.
Tom gave me an odd look. "The sex worker?"
"Brothel matron," I said. "I'm establishing a council and—"
"You're establishing a council?" Tom was incredulous. "Why?"
"I can't exactly babysit forever, can I?" I retorted. "Fenrir's done a decent job, but he's not going to be around forever. The village needs a proper government."
"I don't see why you would give up a position of power in something you created," said Tom with a shake of his head.
I shrugged. "I don't need a title to retain power. I know if I need anything, all I have to do is ask. Why bother clinging to a job position that imposes paperwork and other time-consuming work?"
"I... suppose you are not incorrect. What kind of government are you thinking of?"
"Nothing too extravagant, something close to the Wizengamot."
"Speaking of which—"
"Way ahead of you," I assured him.
Tom gave a small shrug. "I may not agree with your decision, but I'll support it. Do you want me to stay for tea?"
"Up to you," I said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to pull another power move like you've done with my babeh snakes."
Tom's lips twitched in amusement. "Miss Jäger is not interested in you the same way they were."
"Mm-hmm."
Tom leaned forward and brushed a kiss against my forehead. "I'll go pay Malfoy and Nott a visit. Do let me know how it goes."
"As you wish."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Sil had some tea and snacks prepared in the greenhouse loft. I took a seat at the table, relishing the taste of white strawberry tea. I had finished my first cup when my guest arrived.
Berit Jäger was a lovely, beautiful woman. Although well into her late forties, she did not look a day past thirty and had the regal grace of a noble witch. Her blonde curls were swept up in a tight bun, and she moved with easy confidence in her witch robes. She nodded at me upon entering the loft. "Good day, Enáretos."
"My friends call me Rosie," I said with a smile. "Please have a seat, Miss Jäger."
Her lips curled up. "Allow me to return the favor, please call me Berit."
Berit sat across from me, the teapot enchanted to pour her a cup as soon as she sat.
"Fenrir and Odette have spoken nothing but praise for you," I said. "And I must say, I am impressed by your work."
"It pales compared to what you have achieved, Miss Rosie," Berit smoothly returned.
I sipped at my tea. "All of my work was done with the help of others. You established your work independently and had a solid standing well before I came into the picture."
"Yet I could not have done what you have," Berit murmured as she took a sip of her own tea.
I inclined my head at that. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Miss Berit. I hope I can continue to live up to that expectation."
"I've little doubt in your capability."
"That's wonderful to hear. Could it then be said you trust my judgement?"
Berit's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Naturally."
I clapped my hands together, projecting the perfect image of bright delight. "I do wish for you to hear me out. Miss Berit, would you please accept a nomination onto the Wizengamot to replace a Noble seat?"
"You want me to... become a Lady?" Berit sought to clarify, her brow slightly furrowed.
"Yes," I said. "My godfather doesn't want to be a Lord. Frankly, he wants the Black house to be ripped of its prestige entirely. I can't quite do that, but I have enough sway to force a nominated substitute."
"That substitution being me?" she stared in disbelief.
"Yes," I said. "You're clever enough. And, you know, technically no criminal record."
Both of her eyebrows rose up in surprise.
"The village needs a proper seat at the Wizengamot," I said. "A seat that will be continued to be filled for generations by someone with the village's best interest at heart."
Berit carefully set down her tea. "You are implying my daughter should be groomed as the next Lady."
"Yes. Odette says she's very bright," I said.
Berit smiled thinly. "She is."
"I won't force this title upon you," I said, "as it is a huge responsibility. Please take some time to think it over and let Fenrir know your answer."
"If I say yes... what happens?"
"My godfather will be stopping by to provide you with the proper training to assume his seat," I said. "The Wizengamot is undergoing a huge transition right now and the new Minister will not be elected until later this summer. If you accept, I'll push forward with the nomination and plan to have you seated by Christmas."
"You think very highly of me."
"I do."
Berit Jäger's eyes softened with warmth. "Thank you for your confidence, Miss Rosie. I will be sure to thoughtfully consider this."
"That's all I can ask."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 13th, 1996
Checking up on Tom that warm Saturday afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised to find my paramour in the kitchen.
Even more surprising, looking absolutely distraught. His hair was messy, his face had smears of flour on it, his black apron covered in flour, batter, and what I assumed eggs. His hands were caked in dough—I could see he was in the middle of kneading a very wet and sticky dough.
"Aha," I said, struggling not to laugh.
"Do. Not," he growled in warning.
I coughed, fighting the urge to cackle. "Did you get into a fight with the Pillsbury mascot?"
He sternly snapped, "Rosie. I am warning you. Do not."
"Did you lose?" I whispered.
He immediately reached into the storage container for flour, pulled out a handful, and threw it in my face.
"You realized you started a war," I told him, wiping the flour from my eyes.
"You took the first shot. I'm only retaliating."
I picked up an egg. "Are you prepared to finish what you started?"
He silently grabbed another handful of flour. "I won't stop even if you beg."
I threw the egg. Chaos ensued.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 18th, 1996
"Looks like Scrimgeour is the new Minister of Magic," mumbled Sirius as he read the morning paper. The three of us were seated at the table for a quaint morning breakfast. All of us still in our pajamas—although Sirius was, as always, missing pants—with messy heads of hair. Sirius and Harry had the benefit of still looking handsome with bedhead hair. I, on the other hand, looked dreadful with messy hair. I had taken to brushing it at night and putting it in either a braid, cap, or pigtails to make my life easier in the morning.
I hadn't had the luxury of long hair before and wanted to give it a go as Rosie. I liked how it looked, but gosh the maintenance was a pain in the ass. I didn't want to think how much effort I'd have to put into it without magic on my side. At least the Wizarding world had pain-free knot-detangling brushes and an assortment of potions for hair care.
Rufus Scrimgeour was a man who previously worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror. Canonically, the man had a hard stance against Dark, but was murdered by Voldemort early on due to his incompetence.
That wouldn't happen this time around. I had control over the Wizengamot and could pressure Rufus to not make the same mistakes.
Like not wrongfully arresting innocent bystanders as Death Eaters.
Should be interesting.
Earlier in the summer the Prophet releases an article on how the raid at the Department of Mysteries was done due to the prophecies. It shamelessly named Harry and I as the Chosen Ones.
Rita really was so wonderful at her job.
"Yeah—hey Paddy, can I go out next weekend?" I asked him.
"Where?" he immediately asked in return.
"Meet up with Hermione in Hogsmeade. You can obviously come along."
"Why?" Harry asked from beside me. He had finished his third mug of tea and was finally awake enough to speak without slurring.
"Trying to take care of some things before our Gringotts raid at Christmas," I said then took a bite out of the soufflé pancakes. Mmm. Delicious.
They both stared at me incredulously.
"We're going to get Hagrid his N.E.W.T. in Care for Magical Creatures," I explained. "His wand was snapped and he was expelled before he could even take his O.W.L.s, you know. Hermione and I have put together a little guide for Hagrid to study with so he can take his O.W.L.s this summer, and hopefully his N.E.W.T. when school starts up."
"That's a pretty small time frame," whistled Sirius.
I shrugged. "Hagrid's not dumb when it comes to animals. He knows the answers, just a matter of—er—wording it correctly for the exam."
"Why's he even need it?" asked Harry. "He already has his dream job."
"Dream job, sure, but he needs a proper license if he wants Hogwarts to house some of the more... mmm... fun creatures," I said carefully.
They both narrowed their eyes.
"What?" I refused to meet their gaze. "I—er—just—er—"
"What are you going to give him?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow. "A dragon?"
I pointedly looked away.
"Merlin's balls, Rosie!"
"Hogwarts should have a dragon!" I protested. "It's criminal that it doesn't already! Plus they're adorable. Look at my baby Horntail! Look at it!"
The little Hungarian Horntail model, Tsu, was currently nibbling at my pancakes while it sat atop Iris's head. Iris had adopted it as her baby sibling and loved placing it atop her head.
Yes, it almost made me die from cuteness overload the first time I saw it.
"Does Dumbledore know you're planning on donating a dragon to Hogwarts?" asked Sirius.
"Does Hermione know that's why you're trying to get him his N.E.W.T.?" asked Harry.
"Yes to Grandpa, and no to Hermione," I said. "So... can I go out this weekend?"
"Sure," said Sirius. "But you'll need an escort. I'll see if anyone in the Order is available."
"Aww. It can't be you?"
"Er..." Sirius tugged on his collar. "I might be needing to avoid that area for a bit."
Now it was our turn to peer oddly at Sirius.
"Might've had a... lovely evening with some very nice people and... left before breakfast."
"Oh, Paddy," I cooed. "Did you have a one-night stand?"
"N—yes. That. That is the only thing I had," said Sirius.
Harry shook his head in disgust—he disliked hearing raunchy things while he ate—and I narrowed my gaze in suspicion.
"You gave that up too easily," I observed. "What're you trying to cov—did you have an orgy?"
Harry choked on his breakfast and Sirius decided it was time to escape.
I howled with laughter. "YOU AIN'T DENYING IT, PADDY!"
He had fled upstairs. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
"I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THIS WHILE I EAT!" cried Harry.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 20th, 1996
Tom was in his office. He was absorbed examining something small and black that floated in a blue light. The light source came from a type of mirror Tom had created.
Tom had been working on a way to teleport through mirrors—similar to the vanishing chests—and had a few deviations to that creation on the way. One of them being a type of expandable storage. The mirror acted as a gateway to a yet-determined space. Tom could cycle through the images inside the mirror with a flick of a finger, and tapping on the object would bring it forth into reality.
"What's—" I gasped when I realized what was suspended.
The ring. Tom found it?
Slytherin's ring. It held the Resurrection Stone inside and originally had been found by Professor Dumbledore. As soon as canon Dumbledore found it, he was entranced by it and picked it up. It inflicted a terrible curse on the elderly wizard, setting a countdown to his demise.
The fact that Tom had the ring meant that Dumbledore would not be able to find it. Judging from how curse-free Tom was, my dear one had successfully evaded the trap placed upon it.
Although the trap might have been specially made to not trigger if it sensed Tom's magic.
"Another piece of my soul," explained Tom with a dismissive way of his hand. He prodded at it with his wand. "At least it behaved predictably enough when placing this piece."
"I—I see."
"I'm trying to see if I can extract the memories of the soul," he said. "It's not going very well, but I'll keep at it."
"It—It looks like it's very important," I hesitantly pointed out. "Where did you—er—?"
"Family heirloom," was all he said on the matter before he turned to me and smiled. "Hungry? I'm feeling peckish."
"I could eat," I said.
"Good. I found a lovely tea shop while I was out the other day," he said, extending his arm to me. "Care to join me?"
"Sure," I said with a smile.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 25th, 1996
"Grandpa!" I said with great cheer, rushing into the den to hug Dumbledore. He laughed lightly, accepting my hug with good grace as he patted my back. "What are you doing here?"
"I was hoping you could help me with something," he said gently.
"Me?" I asked in surprise, glancing over at Sirius who was sprawled on the floor.
"I find myself in need of your charisma," said Dumbledore with a genial smile.
"Charisma," repeated Sirius from the floor. "Manipulation more like."
"Same difference. I'll gladly use my manipulation skills for you," I said. "Paddy, why are you on the floor?"
Sirius's eyes narrowed. "Ask your brother."
"Harry—" I glanced around until I found Harry was also on the floor, but behind the couch. "Harry, what are you doing?"
Harry folded his arms over his chest. "Paddy said that he could be lazier than me."
"What."
"I'm a dog," protested Sirius. "We can nap all day!"
"I'm a cat! I nap twenty hours a day."
"I'm older—I have no energy to spare and no desire to fidget," triumphantly said Sirius. "I could stay here alllllll day and alllll night."
"You're right. You are older which means your back will start hurting way sooner than mine."
"You prat!"
"Old fart!"
I pointedly looked back at Dumbledore. "I don't know these people. Please take me away Grandpa."
"We can definitely be lazier than Rosie at least," snarked Harry. "She can't even sit still without getting anxious."
I gasped. "I can too be lazy!"
"You'll only relax if you're so exhausted you start sleep talking," countered Sirius. "You couldn't even sleep a full night when you were a child."
"Gah. Excuse me for being productive."
"You're excused," they said.
"Enjoy your laziness," I mocked. "Fitting for a Slytherin to be more active than a Gryffindor."
"Oh dear," tutted Dumbledore.
My remark elicited cries of outrage from the still-lying lions.
"As soon as we decide to get up, you're in for it," threatened Sirius as he shook his fist.
"Meow, meow, kitties," I teased.
"I. AM. A. DOG."
"Seems more like a fat cat in a sunbeam to me."
"I think this is where we shall take our leave," said Dumbledore, offering his arm to me.
"Yeah, you better run," said Harry.
I accepted Dumbledore's arm with my left hand and wagged my right index finger at Sirius and Harry. "You both better be off the floor when I get back, or I'll show you a new game called The Floor is Lava."
Sirius gave me a dry look. "You don't mean literally—"
Harry snorted. "Paddy of course she does—"
Dumbledore Apparated us away.
"And where might we be?" I asked, glancing around the rather posh suburban neighborhood he had taken us to.
"While I greatly appreciate your efforts to provide Hogwarts with DADA professors, I find myself needing someone else to take up the Potions position," said Dumbledore plainly.
Power of Plot, hello once again, I thought with a grimace.
I grudgingly accepted the outcome. Even though I had prepared for someone else to take up the DADA position, if Dumbledore wanted Slughorn back he'd have to put Snape somewhere. It did surprise me that Dumbledore was still after Slughorn, and I wondered if his reasons were the same as canonical. As far as I was aware, Dumbledore had not encountered a Horcrux. I did not give him the diary like canon Harry did, and Tom removed the ring prior to Dumbledore getting cursed. Canonically, Slughorn confirmed Dumbledore's suspicions—but why would Dumbledore have those suspicions now?
Unless...
With a small frown, I tentatively asked Dumbledore, "Grandpa?"
"Yes?" he glanced down at me.
"Do you know—do you know there's a prophecy about me?" I asked him.
Both of his eyebrows rose. "I must say, Rosie, although I have come to appreciate your blunt honesty, you can still surprise me. You saw your prophecy at the Department of Mysteries, I take it?"
"Quite so."
"Yes," he said. "I am aware of your prophecy. If you are wanting to discuss it, though, I would encourage us to do so at Hogwarts under better security."
"I'd appreciate that," I said quietly. "Thank you."
"It is only natural," he said. "Perhaps it will open a more... frank discussion."
The two of us traversed the quiet streets, Dumbledore silently taking the lead. Five minutes into our brisk walk we came upon a neat stone house set in its own garden.
Dumbledore examined it carefully. "Dear, dear."
The front door was hanging off its hinges. Dumbledore glanced up and down the deserted street.
"Wand out and follow me, Rosie," he said quietly.
"Want to see me go to trial again?" I teased.
Dumbledore tilted his head, pausing for several seconds. "I must admit, I would love to see you handle Scrimgeour as you handled Fudge."
"If you want me to get rid of him, say the word."
With his free hand, he patted the top of my head. "Sweet child."
I bit my lip to keep from snorting at that.
He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path. I followed closely at his heels. Dumbledore then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand raised and at the ready. "Lumos."
Dumbledore's wand-tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room with me right behind him.
A scene of total devastation met our eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper.
I couldn't resist letting out a scoff.
Why so scared? I mused, admiring how far Slughorn had gone to pretend there was an attack.
A Slytherin should always be cautious, but given the current climate Voldemort and his followers are not capable of hunting Slughorn down. I had severely cut out a majority of Voldemort's resources, after all.
Still...
I did not know what spurred Slughorn to leave his home in the first place. Surely a clever wizard such as he would have been able to properly protect his home? If short on cash, I knew Slughorn had a plethora of connections to wealth or powerful past students that would be more than happy to assist him.
The fact that Slughorn felt compelled to leave his home regardless—and stage such a dramatic scene—meant one of two things.
One, Power of Plot compelled him.
Two, Voldemort was still able to attack his home and send him fleeing.
Although I had eliminated a chunk of Voldemort's canonical followers—and he would not have power over the government—I could not ignore the fact that he was still Lord Voldemort. Deranged as he was, he was still a very powerful wizard with a penchant for cruelty and violence. It would not surprise me at all to learn that Voldemort had some spells up his sleeves that could tear down wards faster than my lightsabers.
Slughorn was, after all, one of the few living people who knew about Horcruxes.
Voldemort would not be worried about Tom telling us about Horcruxes. Even though Tom and I had been together for a while, Tom still hadn't truthfully explained his "phylacteries" to me. The two of them were too deeply focused on self-survival and escaping death, no amount of emotional attachment would overcome that.
Which was fine. I didn't need to know all of Tom's secrets. He would not tell me about Horcruxes, and I had no plans on telling him I committed suicide in my previous life.
Both subjects were difficult to talk about. Tom, because it would prey on his fear of vulnerability, and myself because... Well. I didn't know how. I could open my mouth but words would never come out. Those memories and echoes of ash would stay as buried as I could get them in my head.
"Not pretty, is it?" he said heavily. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."
"Yeah. Whoever designed those drapes did the world a great travesty."
"Rosie."
"Yes, Grandpa?"
He motioned to the wrecked piano. "Someone clearly wasn't a fan of music."
"No taste."
"None whatsoever."
Dumbledore tutted. "Magic can never repair pianos the same way. Always off tune in a subtle manner."
"Oh no!"
And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"
"Good evening, Horace," said Dumbledore, straightening up again.
I giggled. Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an chunky, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.
"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "It hurt."
"There was no need to destroy a perfectly good piano," pointed out Dumbledore.
"Feh! What gave it away?" he grunted as he staggered to his feet, still rubbing his lower belly.
"My dear Horace," said Dumbledore, looking amused, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."
The wizard clapped a hand to his forehead.
"The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something... ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."
He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.
"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" asked Dumbledore politely.
"Please," said the other.
They stood back to back, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion.
The furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments re-formed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited; a vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, and the walls wiped themselves clean.
"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" asked Dumbledore loudly over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather clock.
"On the walls? Dragon," shouted the wizard called Horace Slughorn, as, with a deafening grinding and tinkling, the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling.
There was a final plunk from the poor, poor piano, then silence.
"Yes, dragon," repeated the wizard conversationally. "My last bottle, but I'll get more soon enough." He sighed. It was then that his gaze fell upon me.
"Lily?" he said in surprise.
"This," said Dumbledore, moving forward to make the introduction, "is Rosaline Potter. Rosie, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."
Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus."
He pushed past me, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.
"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked Dumbledore. "For old time's sake?"
Slughorn hesitated.
"All right then, one drink," he said ungraciously.
Dumbledore gave me a pointed look and I winked.
"Allow me to pour," I said, turning on the ol' Slytherin charm.
He agreed to come back to teach Hogwarts before I even finished pouring the first drink.
Tom would be so proud.
(Also: both of my boys were off the floor when I got back. They chose to magically stick themselves to the ceiling to continue their game of laziness out of pure spite.)
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
July 31st, 1996
I celebrated my birthday very similarly as I did every year.
Sirius prepared our favorite breakfast—orange blossom scones for me; kedgeree for Harry—while Remus prepped the birthday cake. Cake was always eaten after breakfast, per the Potter tradition started by James. While we ate, Remus lined up the presents for us to open one at a time—we took turns who went first—and we chatted about happy and unimportant things.
We both got an assortment of presents that year. Sirius was prone to spoil and add Remus's name to everything. Remus wasn't well off—much better than canon since he was able to hold down a steady job at an apothecary in London—but he did his best to buy his own presents for us.
We got an assortment of clothes, followed by books, then more specific things. Harry's presents were centered around Tolkien or Quidditch paraphernalia, while mine focused on things I collected (pretty leatherbound notebooks, good quills, smelly stuff). After opening our presents, we played some board games, ate lunch, played around some more, and overall had a wonderful day.
We had never had a big birthday party before. By the time we had friends we could invite over Harry voiced his preference to keep the party small. His friends could send him presents through the mail, and he was more than happy to share a little party with them when they got back to Hogwarts. Since he and Neville both had birthdays over the summer the lions preferred to have a little party amongst themselves the first Hogsmeade weekend.
Once the day bled into the night, I headed off to "sleep."
Obviously I chose to snuck out to visit Tom.
Tom was, as so frequently found, in his favorite recliner awaiting my arrival. He looked up as I climbed out of the vanishing chest. He placed his book down, offered me a warm smile that made me feel ticklish inside, and patted his lap.
Eager to take advantage of the birthday treat, I climbed into his lap as he wrapped his arms around me, kissing him until we were both breathless.
"I missed you," I said, surprising myself by how sincerely I meant it.
"You saw me yesterday."
"And yet I still missed you," I said, carefully tucking one of his dark curls behind his ear.
He gazed at me softly. "I know what you mean. I'm not fond of seeing you go." He reached over to the end table beside him, picking up a small box wrapped in glistening silver paper. He whispered, "Happy birthday, Rosie."
I accepted the box, admiring how neatly it was wrapped. Carefully, I undid the ribbons. Inside I found a carefully crafted crystal music box darkened and charmed to mimic a starry night sky. Opening the lid I heard the soft chimes of a familiar piano opening.
Merry Go Round of Life by Joe Hisaishi, I realized with a smile. It was the first song I had taught Tom on the piano.
"I love it," I said warmly, admiring the lovely enchanted stars that twinkle in the music box in rhythm to the music. "Did you make this yourself?"
"I did," he confirmed.
"This is amazing," I praised. "What kind of crystal is this?"
"I used a celestine base," Tom began, "and funneled a stasis cosmic ritual into it. Similar to what was done to enchant Hogwarts Great Hall ceiling, but I chose a specific scene to loop on a minute."
"Where?" I asked curiously.
"Aoraki Mackenzie in New Zealand," answered Tom. "Lovely view, isn't it?"
"It's brilliant. Oh, Tom."
Tom tilted his head up to sweetly kiss me. "That's not your only present."
I smiled coyly. "Do I get to be the cake eater now?"
"Only if I'm the cake."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 1st, 1996
We stayed at our home for the first half the summer, then moved back to Grimmauld's Place for the second half where Hermione and the Weasley's also stayed. Hermione moved in the same day as we did. She didn't need the protection, but she loved getting able to practice her spellwork over the summer. She wasn't able to perform any magic or brew potions at her parents' home, after all.
The Weasleys', unlike canon, continued to live at the refurbished and Gryffindor-styled Grimmauld's Place. It was, undoubtedly, significantly safer than their home at the burrow. Plus Sirius loved having them over and I wouldn't put it past my godfather if he had a hand in charming them to keep staying over.
I didn't think they minded, though. Molly, at Sirius's encouragement, added a loving touch to the home. The Weasley kids certainly didn't complain about having their own rooms. While there wasn't a backyard, Sirius did set up the basement to expand to a decently sized training room they could fly their brooms in.
We hopped over for breakfast—Molly made some damn good eggy bread—then went our separate ways. I was lounging in the room I shared with Harry, admiring Tom's gift.
Harry came in while I opened the music box. He was carrying a big blue blanket. He noticed the music box, raising an eyebrow at it. Dumping the blanket on his bed, he scooted his bed over to mine then asked, "What's that?"
"My boyfriend gave it to me," I said with a smile.
Harry's face twisted up like he bit hard into a sour lemon. I noticed and giggled.
"Aww. Does my baby boy dislike it when I say boyfriend?"
"One, don't call me baby boy," said Harry. "Two, while I acknowledge you are your own witch and have every right to do whatever you want, you're still my twin sister so it's hard to—to—ya know? Process? Accept?"
"Would you rather I use a different word?"
"Like what?"
"Lover?" I teased.
He grimaced. "No."
"Ah. Then what about fuck buddy?"
"Eughk," he whined. "Please stick to boyfriend."
I cackled.
"Oh, yeah, you wanted to talk to Hermione, right?" asked Harry as he flopped onto his bed.
"Yep. Is she available now?"
"Yeah, she's done helping Ginny with her homework," said Harry. "Told her you were looking for her."
"Thanks. I'll head out now," I said, hopping off my bed. Harry immediately star fished across both of our beds. "Prat."
"This wouldn't be an issue if Paddy got us kings instead of twins," Harry lazily responded.
"Liar. You'd still shove the bed over 'cause you're a cuddle bug."
"You're probably not wrong. Oh, and you didn't see me take this blanket."
I winked at him. "What blanket?"
"That's why you're my favorite."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
I found Hermione in the kitchen with Ginny and Molly. "Hi Ladies. Hey Hermione, when you have a moment, can we talk?"
"Sure," said Hermione, a little surprised. "Er—in private?"
"Probably for the best," I said with a shrug.
Hermione followed me into the salon. Despite it being the afternoon, things were relatively calm and quiet. Probably helped that the twins had moved out to their loft above the shop. I took a seat on the couch and Hermione sat next to me. One of the House Elves—I guessed Kreacher—magicked a tray of scones and tea on the table beside us. It went to show how well adjusted Hermione was to the magical world that she didn't flinch at the food's sudden appearance.
I cleared my throat. "How familiar are you with House Elves?"
"Not terribly," admitted Hermione. "I've seen some references to them but I haven't been able to find much concrete information."
"Not surprising," I said. "Before I go much further, I wanted you to know I'm looking to start a new long term research project. I thought you might be interested in working alongside me."
"What's the project?" she asked curiously.
"Well, it's about House Elves," I began hesitantly.
"I don't know how much help I'd be of you—I really don't know much about them."
"You're clever, Hermione," I reminded her. "Even if you don't have the ground knowledge right away, I know it's something you'll pick up on. Frankly there isn't much written information on House Elves in general—we'll be starting from the ground up."
Hermione's brow furrowed at that. "Are they dangerous?"
"Goodness no," I said. "But they are—er—well—there's really no easy way to put this, Hermione. I chose you because I know this'll be a passion project. They—er—they're the Wizarding World equivalents of slaves."
Hermione blinked. "Pardon?"
"Slaves," I repeated. "They were magically bred to be slaves."
"WHAT?!"
It took the next couple of hours of explaining until Hermione calmed down. She interrupted me several times with pointed questions, gasps of indignation, and glowers. She reminded me terribly of a puffed up kneazle with how furious she was. Her anger was entirely justified, but gosh darn she was so dang cute. It was hard to resist the urge to pinch her cheeks and nuzzle her like I would Harry.
"Of course I'll help you!" she said hotly. "I can't—this is absurd!"
"I know, I know," I said soothingly. "Believe me, I know."
"Do you—you don't have a House Elf do you?" Hermione's eyes bulged as the thought occurred to her.
"I do," I said slowly. "Two, actually. I care about them a great deal which is why I want to approach this delicately."
"You don't pay them—?"
"Not currently," I said. "Hermione, I know you really want to jump in and free them all right away but please, please look at this logically."
Hermione pursed her lips, glaring at me. "Logically? They're slaves."
"Yes. Who were magically bred to be that way," I stressed. "What little records I have on House Elves repeatedly affirm that most of them die after being freed. Hermione, there is an honest chance that they have a curse similar to lycanthrope that has been bred into them. We cannot rush into this. We could risk killing them—or at the very least—traumatically hurting them."
Hermione stilled, her eyes wide. "Similar to lycanthrope? I—I supposed you might be right. Lycanthrope is passed down through bloodlines. If House Elves were bred by Wizards for slavery... there's likely some unsavory magic mixed in."
"I am working under that assumption, yes," I said. "I would love researching this with you, but I need you to promise me you will put their health first and foremost—no matter how much it hurts your principals."
"I promise," Hermione assured me. "I want to help them."
"That's wonderful to hear. How about we meet Monday evenings in the Room of Requirement? I can provide the equipment."
"I assume you'll ask your House Elves to help us," tentatively broached Hermione.
"With their consent, yes. I was also going to ask Gr—Professor Dumbledore if we could ask the House Elves at Hogwarts to participate," I said. "At the very least we should have a wide demographic to understand their basic biology."
"HOGWARTS HAS HOUSE ELVES?!"
Ah... I can see this is going to be a fun beginning.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 8th, 1996
I got my O.W.L.s! I got my O.W.L.s!
The results flew in on a Ministry owl, handing letters to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and me at the breakfast table. Molly had prepared eggy bread, sausages, and a variety of fruit. I had piled up a good portion of strawberries onto my plate. I ripped open my letter, letting out a gleeful giggle. "Yay!"
"What'd you get, princess?" Sirius asked, reaching over to place more sausages on mine and Harry's plate.
"All Os!" I preened. "And an asterisk!"
"Oh that's wonderful!" praised Molly. "Congratulations, dearie."
"Asterisk?" asked Hermione in surprise.
"Eeee. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley!" I beamed at Molly before turning in my seat to explain to Hermione, "If you go above and beyond in your scores, you get an asterisk."
She gasped, "I had no idea! Oooh—Oh! I got one too."
Hermione held out her paper and I was astounded to see she had an asterisk next to her Charms O. She examined my own paper, admiring the asterisk I received next to my DADA score.
In a warm voice she said, "How lovely."
"I'm impressed you got one in Charms," I sincerely praised her. "What did you do, if I might ask?"
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I did go off on a bit of a tangent about reversing backfired charms."
"That's probably what did it—I performed the Patronus Charm for mine."
"Astounding! Harry, what did you get?"
Harry handed over his scores for her to see. "Os and Es."
"Better than me," laughed Sirius. "I hated studying. Think my best score was an A."
"Ron?" probed Hermione with a smile, holding out her hand expectantly.
Ron shrugged and handed his score over to her.
"You and Harry scored exactly the same," she noted. Harry and Ron immediately exchanged high fives.
"My secret twin," chuckled Harry.
"We'll have matching scores for the rest of our days," laughed Ron.
"You both could apply yourselves a bit more," said Hermione. "Aim for an asterisk for your N.E.W.T.s—"
"No," they said immediately.
Harry patted Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione, you're brilliant and I admire you. But please let me enjoy my perfectly adequate scores."
"Yeah. Rosie can be your new study buddy," agreed Ron. "Harry and I have much more important things to do."
Molly raised an eyebrow at that. "What's more important than studying?"
"Quidditch," said Harry, Ron, and Sirius.
Hermione and I exchanged eye-rolls.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Later that evening I went to visit Tom to brag about my scores.
"Asterrick! I got an asterisk," I chortled, showing off my score as soon as I spotted him in his office.
Not one, but two! One next to my O in DADA and the other next to my O in Potions. I hadn't noticed the Potions asterisk until after Hermione pointed it out to me. I was super giddy about that one.
"That's wonderful, congratulations," said Tom with a smile.
I frowned. "You're actually happy. Why are you happy? I—I won, didn't I?"
"I told you, Rosie. My scores were perfect."
"Yeah—all O's," I said slowly.
He shook his head. "All Outstandings... with asterisks."
I gasped. "No."
"Yes," he said with a devilishly smug smile. "I earned my bonus points for showing off spells I invented in each area. Potions were a little trickier, but my revised recipes for the exams did the trick. They use my recipes in the books now, you know."
"I hate you. So. Much."
Tom flicked my nose. "Better luck in your N.E.W.T.s."
I grumbled, "Did you earn all asterisks there?"
"No," he said with an odd smile. "You've a chance there."
I narrowed my eyes. "For which class?"
"DADA," he admitted. "I could not perform the Patronus Charm, which was part of the original exam."
"Wait—that means you got an asterisk for N.E.W.T.s arithmancy?" I grimaced. "Ugh. Ugh."
"Good luck," said Tom, radiating smug glee.
"I hate you."
"Mm-hmm." Tom's smile stretched wider into a Cheshire grin. "You could always save yourself the stress and trouble and admit defeat."
"Never," I whispered. "You destroyed my chess legacy with your bloody ties. I will have my vengeance."
"Of course," he placated me.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 10th, 1996
I stepped out into the living room, putting my wet hair up in a towel. "Ahhh. Nothing beats getting to use a bathroom without rush. Downside to living at Grimmauld's is having to share the bathrooms."
Tom looked over at me from his favorite spot in the recliner. He raised an eyebrow. "Is that my shirt?"
"Yep."
"And my boxers?"
"Yep."
Tom cocked his head. "Your clothes dirty?"
"Nope."
"Just wanted to wear mine?"
"Yep."
"Mmkay."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 11th, 1996
It was game night! I had the chess table set up and was waiting on Tom to finish his evening bath.
When he stepped into the living room, I noticed a familiar hoodie.
"Is that my super oversized comfy Totoro hoodie that I wear when I wanna feel like a dainty pixie?" I asked him.
"Yep."
My eyes roamed down to his pants. "... You wearin' my undies, too?"
He smirked. "Only way you'll find out is if you beat me in chess."
I groaned in despair. The bastard kept tying with me. I had a very sneaky suspicion he was tying on purpose instead of winning, too. Just enough to make me think I had a chance. "Fuck me."
He teased, "Maybe later, dear."
I gasped. "Really?"
"Nope." Upon seeing my crestfallen face he smiled brightly. "Ah. That look of disappointment is as lovely as always."
"Fuck you."
He cocked his head as he took a seat across from me. In a mockingly innocent tone he purred, "Maybe later, dear."
I wagged my finger at him. "You're a jerk butt."
He looked positively delighted. Downright proud, really. "Yes."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 13th, 1996
Grimmauld's Place got a bit brighter when Bill Weasley decided to come home and bring his fiancé, Fleur Delacour with him. The beautiful young woman was a gracious guest. It was delightful to have someone to practice more of my French with, and she was elated to have someone speak in her native tongue.
I was pleasantly surprised to find that she was apt at sign language, as well, and she kindly offered to tutor me.
Funny enough Harry and Ron wanted to join in, but I shooed them off.
Although Molly, Ginny, and Hermione weren't very fond of Fleur, I thoroughly enjoyed her company. She reminded me so much of Odette, albeit much blunter which I greatly appreciated. I adored Odette, but she had a way of dancing around topics that made my head spin. Actually, now that I thought about it Fleur reminded me more of Daphne than Odette.
I think Fleur enjoyed my company a fair bit. Bill was busy with work and Fleur only worked part time at Gringotts, which meant she had more time on her hand than what she would have liked. She was relatively alone in a foreign country, in a house where a small portion of ladies weren't overly enthusiastic about her. Or, like Ron and Harry, a bit too fond. Not that I could blame them, as she was part veela and they were teenage boys.
Still, it was nice. Fleur, unsurprisingly, had Daphne's deft hand at fashion and was more than happy to help me pick out new clothes in the catalog. She had quite a strong opinion about certain pieces, and she introduced me to her favorite catalogs for clothes from France and Italy.
She had excellent taste.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 24th, 1996
When it was time to go shopping for our supplies—and visit the shop—Harry and I were provided a battalion of Aurors to escort us. Harry was plainly uncomfortable with the idea, but I did not mind. It was good that the Ministry was taking such precaution.
It was not a big hassle on the Ministry's part, anyway. Aurors were stationed heavily throughout Diagon Alley on rotating shifts and patrols. Canonically many of the shops had been ransacked, with their owners either murdered or kidnapped.
Now, though, the streets were as bustling as ever. Aurors stood guard on rooftops, and a few scattered on the stone pathway. None of the shops were deserted, and it appeared many of the witches and wizards in attendance were having a jolly good time.
The threat of Voldemort did leave a palpable tension in the air, but the huge presence of Aurors set many people at ease.
If Voldemort were to attack Diagon Alley it would cost him greatly. Considering he was already hemorrhaging from what I had done, it'd be foolish to do so.
Not impossible—I could not discount anything given his mental state—but bloody stupid.
Our escorts nodded to their peers as we leisurely walked through the streets. The crowd parted ways for us, many eyes upon us as the citizens gossiped about the supposed prophecy children.
"I hate this," muttered Harry as he stayed close to me.
"Poor baby," I cooed.
"Shut up."
I snickered.
Once we got all of our essential shopping down we headed to visit the twins' shop.
The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:
WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?
YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO —
THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!
Harry and Ron started to laugh when they saw the sign.
Molly, on the other hand, was absolutely horrified. "They'll be murdered in their beds!" she whispered.
Sirius, who was grinning widely, "Nah! They'll be fine. Brilliant lads you've got, Arthur."
"Thank you, Sirius," chuckled Arthur, then quieted as soon as Molly glowered at him.
We piled into the shop, a few Aurors going in before us while the rest stood guard outside. It was packed to the brim with laughing customers, each admiring the wonderful contraptions and toys the twins had invented.
I mingled throughout the crowd until I felt a friendly arm wrap around my shoulder. I looked up to see Fred, smiling brightly at me. "There's our triplet."
"Hey handsome," I said, then nodded to George who appeared on the other side. "Double handsome."
They laughed.
"Come on back, Rosie. We've got stuff we want to show you," said George.
"Oh goody," I said cheerfully. "I don't suppose you've got any of those colorful fluffballs left to sell?"
"I told you she'd want one—"
"Right, right," said Fred with a roll of his eyes. "What color?"
"Blue. Iris wants a pillow that will purr for her."
"Your wish is our command, your majesty," said George with a theatrical bow.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 30th, 1996
Tom was flabbergasted. He stared, slack-jawed at my creation. "No way. No way."
I screamed in joy, hopping up and down as I pointedly excitedly at the center of my ritual. I had performed it on the dining room table at Lunar's Orchid under Tom's watchful eye. It took roughly ten minutes from start to finish, and at the end the results spoke for themselves.
In the center of my ritual circle was a little... blue... stone.
Completely polished, glistening brightly, under the sunlight filtered through the windows. It was small, smooth, and such a pretty shade of blue. I didn't need to pick it up to feel the magic inside of it.
I knew in my heart of hearts I had succeeded.
I had given magic a solid form.
"But that—that doesn't—but—what? No—no!" Tom ran his fingers through his hair, staring in abject disbelief at the stone. "That doesn't make any sense!"
"Exactly!"
"No!"
I squealed with delight, hopping around and clapping. "Yay, yay, yay. I'm so happy. I did it, I really did it."
"There's no logic to it," he muttered to himself, staring off into the distance. "None. It should not have worked. None of it should have worked. Why did it work? Why? No, no, no..."
There was a knock at the door and I hurried over to answer it, my excitement giving me a skip in my step.
Berit was surprised that I had answered the door. The woman nodded brusquely to me. "I shan't keep you long, Miss Rosie."
"Oh?" I asked in surprise. "No tea?"
She shook her head. "I already have plans with Miss Odette. I only wanted to give a message."
"Yes?"
"I will accept," Berit said quietly. "But on one condition."
I inclined my head.
"Our House name should be Lunar, so we never forget where our priorities lie," she said. "We will keep this village safe for generations to come."
I beamed.
"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Tom moaned from behind me, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Berit.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
August 31st, 1996
Tomorrow I would have to head back to Hogwarts. As it was a Saturday, I opted to spend the entire day with Tom. Harry promised he'd cover for me if I bought him a new broom. I had money to burn and time spent with Tom was priceless, so that was a very easy agreement.
Tom and I sat at the dining room table, an assortment of thread spread between us. We were both cross-stitching. It was a new hobby Tom wanted to try out after he grew bored of testing out musical instruments. I enjoyed cross-stitching. It reminded me of hours spent practicing my sutures. I was pleasantly surprised how fast I was. I had already finished stitching on a little rose pattern on a pillow for Fenrir, and was currently working on one for Odette.
Tom, meanwhile, was still on his first pattern of a blue rose. He worked methodically and quietly, focused on his work.
Or at least I thought he was focused on his work.
He absently murmured, "Rosie?"
"Yes, love?"
"How often do you dream of me naked?"
I twitched, my ears and cheeks suddenly hot. "... Why do you ask?"
His lips twitched into a fleeting smile. "Merely recalling a happy memory."
I carefully set down my needle and thread. "Do you really want to know?"
He glanced up, saw that I had set down my work and mirrored to do the same. "Yes."
"I'll answer if you confirm what you look like in my dreams matches reality," I teased.
Tom propped his chin in his hands, eyes dancing with fond amusement. He was silent for several minutes, his cinnamon gaze focused on me. Having him stare so intensely at me for so long made me nervous, I looked away and started to fidget.
He softened. "Okay."
I turned my head to face him so fast I could have gotten whiplash. "Wait, what—"
He offered me his hand. "Would you like to stay the night, Rosie?"
My face inflamed and I let out a meek, "O-Okay."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Bucket List Completed:
22. Prevent Dumbledore from getting cursed by the ring.
23. Keep Sirius alive into year six.
32. Get one of those pygmy puffs.
58. Try that whole losing the virginity thing.
67. Find out what magic actually is
ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ
Tee hee.
At the start of this story I was one of those people who did not understand the difference between lack of sex drive & asexuality. I was pretty ignorant to the ace side entirely until I started researching it for Tom's character.
It's been really awesome to read so many reviews/comments about other people who identify as ace and offer their own input. I've really felt like I've learned a lot and I'm so grateful for those who have taken the time to help educate me. Thank you.
The winning results of the interlude was Tom. Dumbledore came pretty close, though! I'll be sure to add in more thoughtful conversations between Dumbledore & Rosie this year so y'all can see more about his thought process.
Answer: A journal.
Question: A mystic blacksmith is going to craft a weapon of your choice. What weapon do you ask from the blacksmith and what shall be its name?
Reviews are love!
This is just a little rain in the drought - see y'all June 1st!