Eleven Winter Days (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 22)
Title: Eleven Winter Days (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 22)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: NC17 for language and sexual content
Summary: What gifts did you get over the holidays?
Notes: *prepares for fan onslaught*
If you haven't already, please take my reader's poll regarding my posting schedule.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Dream Interpretations / Previous Chapters / Final Preparations
"Well," said Hermione Caroline Lupin with a wry grin, "I can honestly say that this is something that Grandma Granger never gave me."
"I hope you like it, dear," said Molly Weasley with a bright smile as Caroline held up her very own Weasley sweater to the large group in the Burrow's sitting room. It was a light blue hooded number with a purple zig-zag across the middle.
"It looks very cozy," said Caroline, pulling it over her head. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley!"
"Well, I've been making one for Teddy for years," said Mrs. Weasley as the other Weasleys and Potters unwrapped their own. "Now that you two are married..."
"I won't have to borrow his anymore on those cold nights," Caroline said with a flirtatious glance at her husband. "And you suddenly look very disappointed by that."
"What?" asked Teddy, jerking back to the present. "Oh, yeah. Well, you know you can keep wearing mine. They look better on you, anyway," he added with a smile, putting his hand on her knee.
"Nice recovery," Albus Potter muttered under his breath to Teddy, who only gave a weak chuckle in response. Caroline's gaze lingered on Teddy for a few moments; he seemed a little more morose than normal, less there.
That's normal, she thought. You know he gets this way at Christmastime every few years or so. He's told you himself many times: It's his Mum and Dad. He wasn't raised by them, but he still wishes that they were here. That's all.
But was it?
"Hang on, Charlie Boy," said Bill Weasley, quickly jumping to the rescue as his younger brother tried pulling on his own sweater. "You're putting it on backwards, mate."
"I don't need help!" Charlie yelled, most of this Christmas Eve night closer to his five-year-old self than other times, laughing loudly at the table and making a mess of his food and his clothes. He now pulled his own orange sweater off and re-attempted to pull it back on, fighting off Bill and managing instead to push his head into one of the sleeves.
Throughout this entire scene, Caroline felt a wave of pity for her new family. As she watched each member of the family react to Charlie's outburst, she was reminded once again of just how much the attack on Charlie, Luna, and Victoire was affecting everyone she knew and loved. So many of the members of Charlie's family, including Molly, Ginny, and Harry jumped to Bill's aid as they eventually helped Charlie pull his sweater on the right way. Others looked on, looking at Charlie with a mixture of pity, grief, and sadness. Even though he occasionally acted as he did six months ago, it was almost as though Charlie were gone forever, and that this manchild in front of them now was a constant reminder of his disappearance. His lost cause. His death, even.
Then there were those Weasleys who couldn't bear to even look at their Charlie, instead staring at their hands, or their feet, or idly picking at their new sweaters or the paper in which they had been wrapped. Almost like they were avoiding an indecent act. Which, in a way, it was. It was indecent that this should happen to such a wonderful man, indecent that some horrible wizard would do something like this to such a wonder family. Indecent that horrible wizards would keep doing this to this family, first with Bill, then Fred, and now Charlie. Indecent that they should be reminded of that evil day after day after day, without rest, without respite.
And then there were those family members that instead turned to Charlie's eldest niece. Victoire had turned away from the scene, her face pressed into the crook of her mother's neck, Fleur's arm around her daughter's shoulder, holding her close, comforting her. On Victoire's other side, Matilda wrapped her arms around her sister's middle, hugging her from behind. Despite constant assurances otherwise, Caroline knew that Victoire was still blaming herself for Charlie's condition. Unfortunately, she knew that no level of support would completely dispel that belief, at least until a cure was found for this memory curse.
"I did it!" Charlie said as the four others backed away, his sweater now correctly fitted. As the man raised his arms in triumph, the tenseness in the room seemed to break slightly. George gave a reluctant, yet sad, chuckle at his older brother's glee, and Caroline saw Molly, Jean, and Penelope trying their best to dab their eyes without the others noticing. The others looked back towards the pile of presents, which had been diminished significantly during the last half hour, but Caroline noticed that Ted's attention lingered on Victoire, Fleur, and Matilda for a few more moments, and she felt a wave of warmth towards him. He had woken up the night of the attack from such a horrible nightmare, and since then had been doing his best to help Jean and Seamus Finnigan find the culprits. Especially after it was discovered that Victoire had dreamt of the same cat-faced witch on the same night that Ted had.
He wants to help her, she thought. He cares about her so much, he just wants to see her happy again, no matter what.
With a comforting smile, Caroline put his hand on Ted's shoulder. Ted turned quickly (too quickly?) to look at her, and gave her an odd smile. It was a reassuring smile, but...
Was there guilt in that look? In that turn?
You're being paranoid, a thought spoke, unbidden, into her mind.
What am I being paranoid about?
I don't know... But he's been odd.
You already said it. It's Christmas. His parents are gone. He's off. That's all.
It felt right, that reasoning. But did it feel true?
"Well," said Arthur. He cleared his throat, possibly to get his emotions back in check, and the loud sound pulled Caroline back from her reverie. "I think it's time for the big presents, eh?"
"Yes!" said Molly with a too-sharp clap of her hands, crawling to the pile of packages. "Big presents for all of the grandchildren!"
"Actually," said Ginny, putting her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Harry and I have something we want to give to everyone first. If that's okay?"
Molly looked at her daughter with some surprise as Harry pulled a paper sack from behind his chair. "Of course, dear," she said, sitting back down.
"I hope this doesn't put a downer on the night," said Harry, slowly pulling out small boxes, about the size that would hold bracelets or earrings, and handed them around the room. "It is Christmas Eve, after all, and things should stay happy. But we all know that the last year hasn't been great for this family. Despite our best intentions, we've become targets too often. Far too often. Charlie and Victoire in Poland, Teddy and Caroline in Japan, Ginny and Hermione and Ron and our children right here in England. Even James out on the Quidditch Pitch, having to deal with some not-so-pleasant reminders of wars that we fought. All of our children, suddenly facing with a Hogwarts blood rivalry that hasn't been this bad in twenty years.
"I don't like it," he continued, now looking around the room. Ted took his box from the stack, and handed one to Caroline, her name written on the top in gold lettering. "I hate it. We all do. We hate that things keep happening to the people that we love, things that we didn't ask for and things that we're helpless to avoid. I wish it gets better. I hope it gets better. But experience, and gut instinct, tell me that it may not be the end of things. And I also know that our family's bigger than it's ever been, and that our jobs, our schools, and just our lives are separating us more than ever. So help Harry deal with his little bit of paranoia, and open your presents."
"I think I know what this is," said Ron, nodding his head as he cracked open his box. "Yup."
"At last," said James, looking into his package, "we can retire and give up this life of crime."
"What a unique gift," said George with a smirk, pulling the Galleon from his own box and holding up. "Except that it's not unique at all, is it?"
"Maybe a little unique," said Ginny. "I really hope we don't have to explain the Galleon system we ran during the D.A., right? Everyone knows the basics?" After everyone nodded, she continued. "These are family specific. George's and Verity's and Fred's are connected, Percy and Penelope and Gid and Fab are connected, and so on."
"Teddy," said Harry, turning to his godson, "yours is connected to me and Ginny as well as Caroline's and Andromeda's. And everyone's attached to Molly and Arthur."
"So what do we do with them?" asked Matilda, looking a little intimidated.
"Well, since we don't have mobile phones, we're hoping that these can be used for emergency communication instead," said Ginny. "That's emergencies only. No using them to call your sister to meet after class," she said, pointing at Hugo and Rose. "They're not supposed to be instant owls, alright? The magic's complex, but not that complex. If one person uses it, everyone in the family will get the same message."
"But how do we do it?" asked Gideon. "Some kind of spell?"
"Just a bit of Transfiguration," said Ginny. "Nothing too complex. A bit of Flagrante if you can, although the Weasley family clocks will get our attention if there's no other way. But we can use the coins to give more information than the clocks will be able to give. If the first-years are still having problems with the spells, can their parents sit down with them to help them figure them out?" she asked, looking around the room.
"Um, Harry?" Caroline said, meekly raising her hand as she found in a snag in this otherwise brilliant idea.
"I know, Caroline," Harry said. "You won't be able to do anything with it yet. We're still trying to figure that out, actually. But we're going to be giving a set to the Dursleys and Aunt Petunia tomorrow, so you won't be the only Muggle with the same problem. Hang on to it, though; we'll still be able to communicate with you, just like Susan and Evan will still be able to communicate with Dudley and Petunia. If you have an emergency, use your mobile like you always do. Call Teddy or your parents, just like you would otherwise. They'll find help."
"Okay..." she said, a little sadly. It was a very cool idea, after all. It hurt a bit that she couldn't be as invested in it as the rest of them.
"If any of the other families want any, too, let us know," said Ginny. "Grangers, Clearwaters, Devines, Delacours. We're more than willing to make more and connect them to the network."
"I know it's a little paranoid," said Harry with an embarrassed shrug. "But, you know..."
"I think it's brilliant," said Arthur. "Thanks, you two."
"I'm just glad I'm not the only one who's worried," said Hermione Jean with a relieved smile, slipping her coin into her pocket. "So many hours working in the MLE, reading about criminals every day, I start to get nervous about everyone's safety."
"It's probably nothing," said Harry. "But we can never be too careful."
"Yeah, we are a bit of a magnet for trouble, aren't we?" George sighed.
"We are," said Ron, pocketing his Galleon. "Thank Merlin we have some smart people on our side. Hopefully things'll look up in 2020."
---------
December 25, 2019
My name is Luna Lovegood.
That is what the man told me. His name is Neville. He is very nice. He gave me this journal as a Christmas gift. I didn't even know it was Christmas. I woke up and it was snowing outside.
Neville told me that I have lost my memory. He is hoping that this journal will help me get my memory back again. There are two big words on the front: READ ME.
I hope I read it.
I do hope it works.
Let me try this again, as I am now speaking to the woman who will forget me soon:
Your name is Luna Lovegood.
That is what the man told you. His name is Neville. He is very nice. He gave you this journal as a Christmas gift.
You have lost your memory. Please use this journal to collect your thoughts. Hopefully you will soon remember them. Hopefully you will soon remember who you are.
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December 26, 2019
(Neville's note: Luna, the events that you describe in this entry occurred in March of 1998)
I do not know what is happening to me.
I was just rescued from a dark prison. Mr. Ollivander was there, as he had been for as long as I was there. Harry and Ron and Dean were there. Ron was screaming Hermione's name, and Hermione was screaming somewhere outside of the dark room.
My mind is feeling very fuzzy. I was rescued by Dobby, a very nice house elf. He Apparated me out of the room.
And suddenly I awoke at Hogwarts twenty-one years later. I believe the war is over. Neville is married to a woman named Uriela. She is very nice, but I am sad that I am not married to him instead. He is very nice. I think I have strong feelings for him that might be love. I am glad that he survived the revolt against Snape, however.
Harry and Ginny are married, as I knew they would be. Ron and Hermione are married, as well. They all have children. I have not met them yet.
I have apparently lost my memory of the events that occurred between the attack and now. I find it peculiar that I have forgotten quite so much, but Neville assures me that the effects are only temporary.
Professor Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, who I last saw at the wedding, are both dead. They died in the final battle against He Who Shall Not Be Named (a name that, I have been assured, is no longer Taboo). They had a son before they died. His name is Teddy. I am told that he is quite pleasant. He is even an actor. I hope I can see him act before I forget him again.
---------
They quickly discovered that the theatre's costume storage area was the best place.
Victoire had come to the theatre one night, a few days after they had met with Mrs. Finnigan, to talk to Ted about what they should do.
He was the last one there after rehearsal. She came downstairs to meet him. They tried to talk.
The talking didn't last very long.
They had come here twice since then. Ted knew that the theatre was mostly vacant during the week, at least during the daylight hours. And if someone did happen to come, the storage area was so stuffed full of old mouldy costumes that any sounds the two made were muffled my layers and layers of hung cloth. The only other options were to go to his house while Caroline was at work, or to Shell Cottage and hope that Fleur, Bill, and Matilda were away.
This was better. He didn't want anyone to know. Neither did she.
Silence was best.
"Oh, yes," Victoire moaned, feeling Ted's teeth on her collarbone. She was sitting on top of a box filled with witch's hats. Her blouse, a Christmas present from Maman, had been torn open, its buttons scattered across the stone floor, to be magically fixed after they were done with the act. Her brassiere was a front clasp, and now hung open on her shoulders along with her shirt, hard crinkled nipples pinched and tugged by his deft fingers. His t-shirt was thrown somewhere, and her hands were feeling up and down his bare chest, a chest she had only dreamed about before two weeks ago.
Her fingers slid to his belt and began to unfasten it. He didn't pull away. Instead, he slid his hands up her bare legs, beneath her skirt, and, pulling the soaked crotch of her knickers aside, slipped two fingers easily inside of her. She cried out in pleasure, running her hand across the bulge in his jeans before unzipping them and pulling it out.
Ted groaned as she gripped him, pumping him in synch with his fingers, which he lengthened and thickened slightly using his metamorph talents. The response was remarkable: Victoire screamed, her hips bucking once, twice, three times, as a powerful orgasm surged through her.
She slid off the box, her legs giving out as she fell to her knees in front of him. Without a word, she grasped him and took him into her mouth. Ted moaned as her tongue flicked up and down his length, traced along its tip. He ran his fingers through her short blond hair and was amazed (and more than a little turned on) to see that, while one of Victoire's hands was wrapped around his cock, at least the part that wasn't between her lips, the other was between her own legs, fingering herself furiously. As her muffled moans grew higher in pitch and as the thrusts of her head became faster and more pronounced, he knew that, whatever she was doing to herself, she was enjoying it.
He couldn't take watching her much longer. Without thinking, he grabbed her beneath her shoulders and lifted her back up onto the box. Pulling her knickers aside so hard that they tore at the crotch, Ted positioned himself between her legs. Victoire lifted her hips slightly, placing her hand on the small of his back to guide him, her eyes filled with need.
He closed his eyes as he entered her in the real world for the first time. Heard Victoire cry out in a pleasure that he had only heard, only felt, in their dreams.
In the darkness behind his eyes, he saw Hermione.
His heart stopped. "No," he gasped, pulling out of her.
"Yes," Victoire breathed. "Yes, Ted. Please. Fuck me. Please."
"I can't," he said as she groped for him.
"You can," she said, pressing him towards her again. "Please, Ted. I need you in me..."
But he couldn't. He felt himself wilt against her thigh as guilt of the act coursed through is veins like ice water.
"I'm sorry," he panted, backing away from her and falling onto a pile of loose dress robes. "I'm sorry, Vic."
"You've said that before," said Victoire, sitting up and leaning on her bare knees, trying her best to calm down. "Yet we keep ending up back here, going further every time."
"I know."
"What are we going to do?"
Ted dared a glance at her. Her blouse was still wide open, small breasts, nipples as big and ripe as gumdrops still tempting him...
"I was just about ready to ask you the same thing," said Ted with a shaky sigh, running his hands through his sweaty hair.
"I don't know," Victoire said quietly. "I don't know what to do."
Ted said nothing, merely nodding. His mind was trying to race, trying to figure out a plan to straighten out the mess that had been made of three lives, but it was also blissfully numb, unable to process anything coherently. Was that the shock, the guilt, or the Veela?
"I love you so much," she said. "These last few weeks have... I feel horrible about what we're doing, but I'm also so happy to know that we're doing it. I don't know what we should do, because how can one person feel both ways about the same thing, you know? We've crossed some line--"
"You don't think I know that?" Ted snapped. "You don't think that I know that we're... The first time was a mistake. I know that. I hate that. So was the second time. But this isn't a mistake anymore, Victoire. This is an affair. We're having an affair."
The full impact of those words him as they left his mouth. He was having an affair with Victoire Weasley. He was cheating on Hermione, his Hermione. He was cheating on his wife. The thought, the concept, the very idea of the concept of the thought was crushing his soul, tearing him apart inside.
But did it also feel liberating?
What the hell are you thinking?
"I know we are," said Victoire. "And I hate that we're doing something that would hurt HC as much as I know it would. As I know it will. Because I know that she'll find out. That's just the way things go in this world. But, still, I don't want to stop. What does that make me?"
"As fucked up in the head as I am?" Ted snorted.
"So what do we do?" she asked, standing up. As she did, her torn knickers fell to the ground.
"I don't know," he said. "This isn't just about us. This isn't about you and me and HC."
"I know," she said. "I don't want to think about what will happen if..."
But she couldn't finish the thought. Teddy cheats on HC with Victoire. HC finds out. HC leaves Ted. Word spreads through the family that Hermione Weasley's only sister is leaving Harry and Ginny Potter's godson, a boy who's just as good as family, because he was sleeping with their eldest niece. Who gets blamed? Who gets branded? Who gets hurt the most? Who sides with who after that little piece of knowledge becomes public?
And if she doesn't leave him? If Ted and HC are able to patch things up after the affair and stay together? What happens then? Even if the two decided to avoid her completely from that point on, sticking only to the Potter and Granger family functions, Victoire doubted that the next Weasley family Christmas would be as pleasant as the last. With a memory-wiped Charlie and a Scarlet Letter reminding everyone of what damage Victoire Weasley hath wrought, she might as well pack up her things and move to Romania permanently. Maybe further, so she wouldn't have to face Uncle Charlie if they ever were able to restore him to full health.
There weren't a lot of choices, as far as Victoire could see. And she knew that there were probably other options out there, somewhere in the vast void. But she was blinded, blinded by love and by him, and she could only see one way out.
But did Ted?
"Mrs. Finnigan," Ted said as she sat down beside him, "she says that I think I married too early. That my dreams are telling me that I wasn't ready yet, that I was too young to make such a decision having only been with one woman. That Hermione was the only woman I ever loved, but that I never gave myself the chance to find out what that means."
"And now?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know."
"Do you love her?"
"I think I do," he said. "I do. Yes, I do."
"Do you love me?"
Ted closed his eyes, deep in thought. "I... I don't know," he said finally. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."
It's better than a no, she thought sadly.
"The way I see it," Victoire said, leaning close to him, "there are two things that have to happen."
"What are they?"
"I leave," she said, trailing her fingers up and down his chest. "You stay with HC, you love her, the family stays mostly whole, and I stay as far away as possible. Somewhere where I won't remind everyone of all of the mistakes that I've made. Australia, maybe. Or Canada. Or the States?"
"Vic..."
"Somewhere where I don't have to learn a foreign language, you know?" she said, feeling tears coming. "I can just tell Dad and Maman and Matilda that I found an exciting new job prospect. They never have to know what happened between us."
"I can't let you do that," he said, touching her cheek. "I can't let you leave your life behind just because of me..."
"What life?" Victoire asked, crying now. "What life do I have, Ted? I don't have anything here except my family and you. But if I have you, I lose my family. We both do. If I lose you, I keep my family, but they're not going to want me around. I might as well move on, distance myself from everyone and everything and hope that what they all say is true about time and wounds and all that."
"Which leaves the other option," Ted said, his eyes growing their own tears. "I leave Hermione--"
"You will not leave her for me, do you understand me?" Vic said between clenched teeth. "I love you both too much to let you leave her for me. If you're going to seriously consider ending your marriage, you do it because of everything else: You do it because you married too early, because you're not loving her as much as you think you think a husband should love a wife, because you have have too much life to live, whatever. You do it because your brain and your heart and your soul and your dreams are all telling you that you two are better apart than together. But if you tell HC that you're leaving her for me, it will kill her. And that will kill you. And that will kill me. And it'll kill our families. I'd rather leave than have that happen."
"And what happens to us?" he asked. "In that scenario, what happens?"
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe... Maybe we tell everyone that we're dating a few months later. There might be some suspicions that something happened beforehand, but I don't know. Or maybe you do what you're supposed to do: live your life. See if there's someone more there than me or HC. That way you don't have to lie to any of us."
"More there," he repeated in a whisper. "I don't know..."
"You don't have to know," said Victoire. "But you do have to decide. Soon. I love you, Teddy Lupin, and you know which of those two options I'd prefer. But I can't decide for you."
Ted closed his eyes. "I don't know. I can't decide now. But I will decide soon. I promise."
"Okay," Victoire whispered, kissing him on the forehead. "But can I ask you one more question?"
"Hmm?"
"Am I more there than I used to be?"
Ted nodded. "You're there," he said. "Right now, you're more there than anyone."
He kissed her. Slipping his hand into her open shirt, caressing her bare breast.
"Then let me be here," she whispered, climbing atop him. "Whatever happens tomorrow, please let me love you today."
His lips found her breast. Her hands found his chest. Once again, he found his way inside her.
And, for at least one more day, on a bed of wrinkled dress robes, Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley found each other.
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December 28th, 2019
Time somehow seems to have jumped forward two months. I do not know if I was unconscious or if my memory has been wiped. All I do understand is that I woke up in a bed here at Hogwarts with this journal sitting beside it and my handwriting covering the pages.
I was in Poland. I had just had intercourse with Charles Weasley. I think I might be falling in love with him, whatever that definition of love is between the two of us. I fell asleep, and awoke here.
Was the search of Kaliningrad successful? Did we find the Stymphalian Birds? We must have found something, or else I wouldn't have been knocked unconscious for so long. These are questions I would like to answer. I do not know what happened to my research. Is it still in Kaliningrad? Perhaps I should ask Neville. Is that him in the bed next to mine? Is that Uriela next to him?
Perhaps this is an alternate universe. At least it is good to know that those two are still together. But, then, why would I be sharing a bedroom with them?
I have backup research somewhere. Where is it? Why can't I remember?
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(Neville's note: December 29th, 2019)
EVERYTHING IS A LIE! I AM BEING HELD CAPTIVE IN THIS CASTLE BY A MAN AND A WOMAN! THEY WILL NOT LET ME LEAVE! THIS IS MY HANDWRITING, BUT IT'S NOT TRUE! I DON'T KNOW MY NAME, BUT THIS IS A PART OF THEIR PLAN! IF YOU ARE READING THIS, PLEASE HELP i luv my mummy i luv my daddy 1 2 3 4 5 7 6 8 9
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December 25th, 1996
(Neville's note: written on December 30th, 2019)
Dear journal,
I am quite excited for tonight. Harry Potter has asked me to Professor Slughorn's Yule Ball. The typhoon is coming. I wish one of my roommates would help me prepare for my date. They usually dress so much better than I do. The typhoon is coming. I guess I'll just have to wear my best dress robes and hope that Harry approves. I think he will. He is very nice. The typhon is coming. I hope he doesn't laugh at me. I don't think he will. I wonder if we will have intercourse. We probably won't, the school frowns upon that. I'll wear my silver dress robes. I should put away my necklace, though. I don't think Harry likes it. The typhoon is coming. I just hope the nargles don't attack me tonight, the necklace does such a good job of warding them off. The nargles are coming. Perhaps if I wear them on my thigh, underneath my typhoon, then Harry won't think I look peculiar and I can still keep away the nargles. If I take my dress robes off in front of him later he'll see it, and I would like him to, I would like him to touch me under my dress, but I don't think he will. He said I am his typhon just as friends, which I think means that we will just act like we normally do except we will be together without any of the others. He loves Ginny, after all, even if he hasn't told her yet. Maybe I should typhoon him, and see how he reacts? I haven't kissed anyone before, I don't think I would do a very good job. I feel tingly and aroused knowing that I'll be wearing my necklace on my upper thigh. It feels nargle, but in a good way. I feel that I will have to masturbate after the party. Perhaps before. I hope they have pudding.
--------
tink
Meghan Cullen's eyelids peeled open at the noise coming from somewhere in her bedroom.
Stupid heater, she thought sluggishly. Dad really has to get that thing fixed. God, what time is it, anyway?
She rolled over onto her side to stare at her alarm clock. One thirty in the morning. Ugh.
tink
This time she pushed herself up onto her elbows. That wasn't coming from the heating ducts, but from the window. An owl?
tink
Groggily, she spun herself to the edge of the bed, her bare feet searching around her blue and white rug until they found the heels of her slippers. Curling her toes, she was able to scoot them onto her feet before standing up and walking over to the window. Why would an owl be coming at this time of night?
But there wasn't an owl on the sill. There wasn't anything at all.
tink
Steeling herself against the cold that she was sure was coming, she pulled open the window and leaned out. She looked down, and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Scorpius!" she squeaked, covering her mouth quickly for fear that she just woke up the rest of the house. The third-year Slytherin was standing in her front yard. His broomstick was lying on the snow beside him, he had a rucksack slung over his shoulder, and he had a small pile of pebbles in one hand.
"What are you doing here?" she said in a carrying whisper that she hoped he could hear but her slumbering parents were oblivious to. Scorpius, thankfully, seemed to recognize the need for silence. He pointed at himself, then pointed to her. Can I come up?
Meghan looked back into her room quickly, hoping that she didn't hear any creaking footsteps on the other side of her closed door. She bit her lip nervously, then turned back to the outside and nodded quickly, motioning him up with her hands. Scorpius smiled broadly and picked up his broomstick. With a look up and down the street, making sure no one was driving by the Cullens' house, he mounted the broom and kicked off the snow, floating up to her window one floor up.
Halfway up, she absently ran her hand through her hair, and froze.
Oh, God, she thought in a panic, feeling her matted bed hair. I'm a mess!
She ran back into the room and to her mirror, hoping to make any adjustments that could be made in the few moments that it took for Scorpius to climb through her window. She quickly realized, however, that it was a lost cause: the only light in the room was coming from the street lamps outside, and she could barely see the mirror itself, let alone any clumps of slept-on.
It's not like he's never seen you sleeping before, she reasoned. First time you met him you were in bed, remember?
A chill ran up her spine from the cold air blowing in through the open window. She realized that she was in an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms, her usual sleeping attire. But it was cold, and she wasn't wearing a bra...
Not that he'd see if you were pointy, she thought. You just said it yourself, it's dark.
What would he think if he did see it? she responded with a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. But she was still feeling very modest around him, and pulled her dressing gown from the hanger on her door and pulled it on.
"Hi," Scorpius whispered as he carefully stepped inside.
"What are you doing here?" Meghan whispered sharply, wrapping the gown tightly around herself.
"It's your birthday," he breathed. "I have your present."
"You're crazy, you know that?" she whispered, a smile twitching on the corner of her lips. "If my dad finds out you're here, he'll murder us!"
"Yeah, probably," he said with a shrug, pulling his rucksack from his back. "You don't seem too upset about it, though."
Meghan laughed reluctantly. "Where you born in a barn?" she whispered, motioning towards the window. "Close the door behind you, it's freezing out."
"Right," said Scorpius, leaning his broomstick against the wall and closing the window.
"Take your shoes off, too," she said, pointing towards his wet boots. "You're going to tramp snow all over my room."
"Yes, ma'am," Scorpius said with a smirk, pulling them off one by one and setting them right beneath the window. After he did so, he straightened back up. "Is that all you require of me?"
"Not quite," she said, approaching him and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him tight. "I missed you." she said into his shoulder, smelling the cold on his jacket.
"I missed you, too," he replied. "Sorry I haven't owled, or anything. The fam's been crazy busy all holiday."
"That's alright," she said, taking his hand and pulling him to her bed. "I would have written, too, but my dad won't let me have an owl yet."
"Few more years, you'll be able to get one of your own," he said, setting his sack between them and opening it. "You'll get to name him, and everything."
"Well, if you write me, I'll be able to write back using your owl," she said, her smile not yet leaving her face. She reached for his hand and gripped it tightly, as if to remind herself that he was actually here. It had only been a week and a half since they had parted ways for the holiday, but she didn't realize just how much she had missed him until now. She just wanted to hug him and hold his hand and take in his face and--
"How did you get here?" she asked, squeezing his hand. "You didn't sneak out of your house, did you?"
"I did."
"Did you fly all the way?"
"Most of it," he said. "You're not that far away from my place, actually."
"You live in Bath," she retorted, shifting herself a little closer. "That's about as far away from Thurso as you can get."
"I live a life of lies," he said with a smirk. "No, I used some of our Floo Powder to come up here. There's a station about four miles away, I flew from there."
"Aren't your parents going to be mad?"
"Yeah," he shrugged. "But I should be able to get back before they know I'm gone, and I wanted to give you your birthday present before anyone else."
At this, he pulled out a simple box with a ribbon tied across the top.
"This looks like more than sweets," Meghan breathed, putting it her lap. "Scorpius, you didn't have to--"
"Of course I did. Go on, open it."
She did, pulling aside the ribbon and pulling open the lid. She gasped at the small metal object inside.
"It's not much, I know," Scorpius started explaining, far too quickly, as Meghan pulled the small metal bird out of the box by its long leather loop. "But I had a few extra Christmas Galleons from my grandparents but its an eagle, like Ravenclaw, and the blue thing inside it it's just glass or whatever, but I thought--"
Meghan Cullen had never kissed a boy before. When she kissed Scorpius Malfoy, cutting him off, she could tell that he wasn't ready for it. She went in quick, kissing him on a mouth that were still open in mid-word. She felt his teeth and his tongue against her lips instead of his own. She pulled away quickly, her face blazing red. She turned away fast, with a small, embarrassed smile, but not before seeing Scorpius's face. He looked like he had just been smacked in the back of the head by a very large pillow. His mouth was hung open in shock.
"Wow," he said with an exhale.
"It's wonderful," Meghan said, twisting the leather strap in her lap, suddenly feeling incredibly shy. "Thank you."
"No problem," he said in a dazed tone. "Do you... um... can I get another shot at that?"
She dared herself to look back up at him. She nodded. They leaned into each other. This time, their lips touched. It felt a lot nicer.
"Thanks," he said, his face now as red as hers. "I never kissed a girl before. I just wanted to not come off like a complete doof."
"You were fine," she said quietly, her eyes half-lidded. "I haven't kissed anyone before, either."
"We could probably... um... use some practice," he said, leaning in again.
"Practice is good," she breathed.
This time their kiss was a little longer. It wasn't perfect, she knew that. She was leaning towards him, and she knew that she should probably be touching him somehow, putting his hand on the back of his neck or something, but was to nervous to do anything but leave them planted on the bed. She also knew, from the lack of any touches on her own body, that Scorpius was feeling the same way. However, this time she dared herself to open her mouth slightly, and he responded by doing the same. She felt the tip of his tongue on hers, just briefly, and it felt weird. But it was a nice weird, the kind that sent even more shivers up her back.
After what felt like an eternity, but was closer to ten or fifteen seconds, they separated. Scorpius was wearing a stupefied grin on his face, and Meghan knew that hers was probably matching his. With a giggle, she wiped some of Scorpius's saliva from her cheek, and was amused to see him wipe some of hers off his chin.
"I think we need more practice," she said, feeling a stronger laugh build, but had to stave it off. This was still her room, after all. Her parents were sleeping right down the hall. The last thing she wanted was to wake them up.
"Definitely more practice," Scorpius replied with his own smile. "But I'm up for it if you are."
"Absolutely," she said, this time just kissing him quickly on the cheek. "But not tonight. I need sleep, and you need to go home before you're grounded."
"Fine, fine," he sighed with an air of great martyrdom. "I suppose I can leave."
"It's lovely," she said, pulling the necklace on over her head and pulling her hair from inside the loop. "I'm never taking it off again."
"I'm glad you like it," he said, rubbing her arm absently.
"Best birthday ever," she said with a contented grin. "And it's not even two in the morning. Are you doing anything tonight? For New Years?"
"Nothing much," Scorpius sighed. "My family has a party every year, but it's really boring. All high society and lots of champagne and Granddad Lucius looking down his nose at anyone he thinks we're better than. Not exactly my idea of a good time."
"Well," she said, building up the courage to keep talking, "if you want to come over tonight, my Mum and Dad are making me and some of my friends tacos for my birthday? You'd probably have to play Muggle for the night, cuz Cindy and Kelly just think I'm at some private school, they don't know I'm a witch yet, but we stay up till midnight and count down the new year and it'd be really cool if you were there?"
"I don't know," he said. "I want to, I really do. But... I don't know how well I can play Muggle yet. Besides, I thought I had heard that Scorpius isn't a Muggle name."
"We can call you Scott!" Meghan said brightly. "Scott Malfoy! It'll be fun!"
"Alright," he sighed, "how about I just be the honest coward and say that I'm terrified to meet your parents? I know your friends aren't going to know I'm a wizard, but your dad's going to know. He's not a fan, remember?"
Meghan grumbled, sticking her lip into a pout. "This stinks," she said. "I have a boyfriend, and I want to show everyone how cool and nice he is and my dad's being an idiot. Life's not fair."
"Don't I know it," Scorpius said. "I'd invite you over, too, but my dad'll probably give us the same grief that your dad will."
"Cuz I'm a Muggle-born," she said sadly.
"They'll come around," he said with great assurance. "Mum'll be glad that Hedda's Little Scorpius found himself a powerful witch who happens to be absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you," she said, her face on fire now.
"I think things'll even out eventually. Besides, Dad's more tolerant than Granddad, even if he doesn't like to say it around everyone else."
"Mum'll love you," Meghan said, grabbing both of his hands. "Are you sure you can't--?"
Scorpius closed his eyes, deep in thought. Took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I'll come tonight if you think it'll be alright."
Meghan only squealed in response, giving him a brief kiss. For being so terrified a few minutes ago of putting her lips on his, Meghan suddenly felt like she just couldn't keep away from them...
"Well, then, I really have to go," he said, standing up and grabbing his boots. "If I get grounded, all bets are off."
"Go!" she said, fluttering her hands towards the window. "Go, sleep, come back at six!"
"Six it is," he said, grabbing his broomstick and opening the window. "You are going to warn them that I'm coming, right?"
"I'll smooth it out," she said. "I'm good at being Daddy's Little Girl if I need to be."
"Good," he said, now straddling the windowsill. "Alright, well... Um... six o' clock, then."
"Wait!" she said, jumping to her feet.
"What?"
This time Meghan did put her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him to her and kissing him with everything she could muster. For one amazing moment, their mouths even opened completely, and she felt his tongue enter her mouth before they both closed again. She felt like that was the kind of kiss that she could dream about for a month.
"Sleep good," she said with a bright smile.
"You, too," he said with a matching grin.
"Thank you for my birthday present."
"Birthday's not over yet..."
And with that, Scorpius jumped on his broomstick and flew off into the night. Meghan Cullen leaned on out the window, watching him until she couldn't see him through the darkness. She closed the window, jumped onto her bed, and, shoving her face into her pillow, screamed the scream of joy unique to young girls who find themselves completely head-over-heels for a boy for the first time.
Eventually, her heart ceased its mad beating, and Meghan Cullen fell asleep with a smile on her face.
That night, she dreamed of kissing Scorpius Malfoy again and again and again.
---------
January 1st, 2020
I am very confused right now, and very very sad. I fell asleep in Neville's arms, and awoke with him in another bed, sleeping beside a woman I do not know. I did not believe that Neville would sleep with another woman while in a relationship, but I guess I am sadly mistaken.
I do not know what to do right now. I do not know what to say to him. My heart is aching.
---------
January 2nd, 2020
The Oligarchy is coming.
---------
"Final preparations are complete, Steward Ammit," said Atrytone. "The package is in place, and ready to be unleashed at your command."
"Excellent," said Ammit, Mask of Cairo. "Prospero?"
"Preparations for the first phase are complete, Steward Ammit," said Prospero with a nod.
"I would have you give the message, Prospero."
"Madam?"
"The message," said Ammit, her crocodile teeth glistening in the light shining onto the Circle from nowhere.
"But, Steward Ammit," Prospero said, "surely as the elected official, it would be your right--"
"It is my right," said Ammit, "as it is my right to pass that privilege to another. The Next is your fellow countryman. And although we bring it about together, Project Beta will be centered in your territory. It would be foolish for anyone but a native to give the message."
"I agree," said Kitsune, Mask of Osaka. "Let it be you, Prospero. You have earned the right."
"Thank you," said Prospero with a nod. "It will be my honor to represent the Circle of Thirteen in our day of glory."
"Are there any complications?" Ammit asked the rest of the Circle. "If any find a need to delay the operation, speak now."
The twelve others shook their heads.
"Very well," said Ammit, the large jaws of her mask twitching in a smile. "We are the Oligarchy."
"The few shall rule the many."
"We are the Circle of Thirteen."
"The first to leave shall be the first to die."
"We honor the past."
"We serve the next."
"Tomorrow, then," said Ammit. "Tomorrow, Project Beta. Tomorrow, at long last, the Oligarchy shall reveal themselves.
"All praise to The Next."
Dream Interpretations / Previous Chapters / Final Preparations
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: NC17 for language and sexual content
Summary: What gifts did you get over the holidays?
Notes: *prepares for fan onslaught*
If you haven't already, please take my reader's poll regarding my posting schedule.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Dream Interpretations / Previous Chapters / Final Preparations
"Well," said Hermione Caroline Lupin with a wry grin, "I can honestly say that this is something that Grandma Granger never gave me."
"I hope you like it, dear," said Molly Weasley with a bright smile as Caroline held up her very own Weasley sweater to the large group in the Burrow's sitting room. It was a light blue hooded number with a purple zig-zag across the middle.
"It looks very cozy," said Caroline, pulling it over her head. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley!"
"Well, I've been making one for Teddy for years," said Mrs. Weasley as the other Weasleys and Potters unwrapped their own. "Now that you two are married..."
"I won't have to borrow his anymore on those cold nights," Caroline said with a flirtatious glance at her husband. "And you suddenly look very disappointed by that."
"What?" asked Teddy, jerking back to the present. "Oh, yeah. Well, you know you can keep wearing mine. They look better on you, anyway," he added with a smile, putting his hand on her knee.
"Nice recovery," Albus Potter muttered under his breath to Teddy, who only gave a weak chuckle in response. Caroline's gaze lingered on Teddy for a few moments; he seemed a little more morose than normal, less there.
That's normal, she thought. You know he gets this way at Christmastime every few years or so. He's told you himself many times: It's his Mum and Dad. He wasn't raised by them, but he still wishes that they were here. That's all.
But was it?
"Hang on, Charlie Boy," said Bill Weasley, quickly jumping to the rescue as his younger brother tried pulling on his own sweater. "You're putting it on backwards, mate."
"I don't need help!" Charlie yelled, most of this Christmas Eve night closer to his five-year-old self than other times, laughing loudly at the table and making a mess of his food and his clothes. He now pulled his own orange sweater off and re-attempted to pull it back on, fighting off Bill and managing instead to push his head into one of the sleeves.
Throughout this entire scene, Caroline felt a wave of pity for her new family. As she watched each member of the family react to Charlie's outburst, she was reminded once again of just how much the attack on Charlie, Luna, and Victoire was affecting everyone she knew and loved. So many of the members of Charlie's family, including Molly, Ginny, and Harry jumped to Bill's aid as they eventually helped Charlie pull his sweater on the right way. Others looked on, looking at Charlie with a mixture of pity, grief, and sadness. Even though he occasionally acted as he did six months ago, it was almost as though Charlie were gone forever, and that this manchild in front of them now was a constant reminder of his disappearance. His lost cause. His death, even.
Then there were those Weasleys who couldn't bear to even look at their Charlie, instead staring at their hands, or their feet, or idly picking at their new sweaters or the paper in which they had been wrapped. Almost like they were avoiding an indecent act. Which, in a way, it was. It was indecent that this should happen to such a wonderful man, indecent that some horrible wizard would do something like this to such a wonder family. Indecent that horrible wizards would keep doing this to this family, first with Bill, then Fred, and now Charlie. Indecent that they should be reminded of that evil day after day after day, without rest, without respite.
And then there were those family members that instead turned to Charlie's eldest niece. Victoire had turned away from the scene, her face pressed into the crook of her mother's neck, Fleur's arm around her daughter's shoulder, holding her close, comforting her. On Victoire's other side, Matilda wrapped her arms around her sister's middle, hugging her from behind. Despite constant assurances otherwise, Caroline knew that Victoire was still blaming herself for Charlie's condition. Unfortunately, she knew that no level of support would completely dispel that belief, at least until a cure was found for this memory curse.
"I did it!" Charlie said as the four others backed away, his sweater now correctly fitted. As the man raised his arms in triumph, the tenseness in the room seemed to break slightly. George gave a reluctant, yet sad, chuckle at his older brother's glee, and Caroline saw Molly, Jean, and Penelope trying their best to dab their eyes without the others noticing. The others looked back towards the pile of presents, which had been diminished significantly during the last half hour, but Caroline noticed that Ted's attention lingered on Victoire, Fleur, and Matilda for a few more moments, and she felt a wave of warmth towards him. He had woken up the night of the attack from such a horrible nightmare, and since then had been doing his best to help Jean and Seamus Finnigan find the culprits. Especially after it was discovered that Victoire had dreamt of the same cat-faced witch on the same night that Ted had.
He wants to help her, she thought. He cares about her so much, he just wants to see her happy again, no matter what.
With a comforting smile, Caroline put his hand on Ted's shoulder. Ted turned quickly (too quickly?) to look at her, and gave her an odd smile. It was a reassuring smile, but...
Was there guilt in that look? In that turn?
You're being paranoid, a thought spoke, unbidden, into her mind.
What am I being paranoid about?
I don't know... But he's been odd.
You already said it. It's Christmas. His parents are gone. He's off. That's all.
It felt right, that reasoning. But did it feel true?
"Well," said Arthur. He cleared his throat, possibly to get his emotions back in check, and the loud sound pulled Caroline back from her reverie. "I think it's time for the big presents, eh?"
"Yes!" said Molly with a too-sharp clap of her hands, crawling to the pile of packages. "Big presents for all of the grandchildren!"
"Actually," said Ginny, putting her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Harry and I have something we want to give to everyone first. If that's okay?"
Molly looked at her daughter with some surprise as Harry pulled a paper sack from behind his chair. "Of course, dear," she said, sitting back down.
"I hope this doesn't put a downer on the night," said Harry, slowly pulling out small boxes, about the size that would hold bracelets or earrings, and handed them around the room. "It is Christmas Eve, after all, and things should stay happy. But we all know that the last year hasn't been great for this family. Despite our best intentions, we've become targets too often. Far too often. Charlie and Victoire in Poland, Teddy and Caroline in Japan, Ginny and Hermione and Ron and our children right here in England. Even James out on the Quidditch Pitch, having to deal with some not-so-pleasant reminders of wars that we fought. All of our children, suddenly facing with a Hogwarts blood rivalry that hasn't been this bad in twenty years.
"I don't like it," he continued, now looking around the room. Ted took his box from the stack, and handed one to Caroline, her name written on the top in gold lettering. "I hate it. We all do. We hate that things keep happening to the people that we love, things that we didn't ask for and things that we're helpless to avoid. I wish it gets better. I hope it gets better. But experience, and gut instinct, tell me that it may not be the end of things. And I also know that our family's bigger than it's ever been, and that our jobs, our schools, and just our lives are separating us more than ever. So help Harry deal with his little bit of paranoia, and open your presents."
"I think I know what this is," said Ron, nodding his head as he cracked open his box. "Yup."
"At last," said James, looking into his package, "we can retire and give up this life of crime."
"What a unique gift," said George with a smirk, pulling the Galleon from his own box and holding up. "Except that it's not unique at all, is it?"
"Maybe a little unique," said Ginny. "I really hope we don't have to explain the Galleon system we ran during the D.A., right? Everyone knows the basics?" After everyone nodded, she continued. "These are family specific. George's and Verity's and Fred's are connected, Percy and Penelope and Gid and Fab are connected, and so on."
"Teddy," said Harry, turning to his godson, "yours is connected to me and Ginny as well as Caroline's and Andromeda's. And everyone's attached to Molly and Arthur."
"So what do we do with them?" asked Matilda, looking a little intimidated.
"Well, since we don't have mobile phones, we're hoping that these can be used for emergency communication instead," said Ginny. "That's emergencies only. No using them to call your sister to meet after class," she said, pointing at Hugo and Rose. "They're not supposed to be instant owls, alright? The magic's complex, but not that complex. If one person uses it, everyone in the family will get the same message."
"But how do we do it?" asked Gideon. "Some kind of spell?"
"Just a bit of Transfiguration," said Ginny. "Nothing too complex. A bit of Flagrante if you can, although the Weasley family clocks will get our attention if there's no other way. But we can use the coins to give more information than the clocks will be able to give. If the first-years are still having problems with the spells, can their parents sit down with them to help them figure them out?" she asked, looking around the room.
"Um, Harry?" Caroline said, meekly raising her hand as she found in a snag in this otherwise brilliant idea.
"I know, Caroline," Harry said. "You won't be able to do anything with it yet. We're still trying to figure that out, actually. But we're going to be giving a set to the Dursleys and Aunt Petunia tomorrow, so you won't be the only Muggle with the same problem. Hang on to it, though; we'll still be able to communicate with you, just like Susan and Evan will still be able to communicate with Dudley and Petunia. If you have an emergency, use your mobile like you always do. Call Teddy or your parents, just like you would otherwise. They'll find help."
"Okay..." she said, a little sadly. It was a very cool idea, after all. It hurt a bit that she couldn't be as invested in it as the rest of them.
"If any of the other families want any, too, let us know," said Ginny. "Grangers, Clearwaters, Devines, Delacours. We're more than willing to make more and connect them to the network."
"I know it's a little paranoid," said Harry with an embarrassed shrug. "But, you know..."
"I think it's brilliant," said Arthur. "Thanks, you two."
"I'm just glad I'm not the only one who's worried," said Hermione Jean with a relieved smile, slipping her coin into her pocket. "So many hours working in the MLE, reading about criminals every day, I start to get nervous about everyone's safety."
"It's probably nothing," said Harry. "But we can never be too careful."
"Yeah, we are a bit of a magnet for trouble, aren't we?" George sighed.
"We are," said Ron, pocketing his Galleon. "Thank Merlin we have some smart people on our side. Hopefully things'll look up in 2020."
---------
December 25, 2019
My name is Luna Lovegood.
That is what the man told me. His name is Neville. He is very nice. He gave me this journal as a Christmas gift. I didn't even know it was Christmas. I woke up and it was snowing outside.
Neville told me that I have lost my memory. He is hoping that this journal will help me get my memory back again. There are two big words on the front: READ ME.
I hope I read it.
I do hope it works.
Let me try this again, as I am now speaking to the woman who will forget me soon:
Your name is Luna Lovegood.
That is what the man told you. His name is Neville. He is very nice. He gave you this journal as a Christmas gift.
You have lost your memory. Please use this journal to collect your thoughts. Hopefully you will soon remember them. Hopefully you will soon remember who you are.
---------
December 26, 2019
(Neville's note: Luna, the events that you describe in this entry occurred in March of 1998)
I do not know what is happening to me.
I was just rescued from a dark prison. Mr. Ollivander was there, as he had been for as long as I was there. Harry and Ron and Dean were there. Ron was screaming Hermione's name, and Hermione was screaming somewhere outside of the dark room.
My mind is feeling very fuzzy. I was rescued by Dobby, a very nice house elf. He Apparated me out of the room.
And suddenly I awoke at Hogwarts twenty-one years later. I believe the war is over. Neville is married to a woman named Uriela. She is very nice, but I am sad that I am not married to him instead. He is very nice. I think I have strong feelings for him that might be love. I am glad that he survived the revolt against Snape, however.
Harry and Ginny are married, as I knew they would be. Ron and Hermione are married, as well. They all have children. I have not met them yet.
I have apparently lost my memory of the events that occurred between the attack and now. I find it peculiar that I have forgotten quite so much, but Neville assures me that the effects are only temporary.
Professor Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, who I last saw at the wedding, are both dead. They died in the final battle against He Who Shall Not Be Named (a name that, I have been assured, is no longer Taboo). They had a son before they died. His name is Teddy. I am told that he is quite pleasant. He is even an actor. I hope I can see him act before I forget him again.
---------
They quickly discovered that the theatre's costume storage area was the best place.
Victoire had come to the theatre one night, a few days after they had met with Mrs. Finnigan, to talk to Ted about what they should do.
He was the last one there after rehearsal. She came downstairs to meet him. They tried to talk.
The talking didn't last very long.
They had come here twice since then. Ted knew that the theatre was mostly vacant during the week, at least during the daylight hours. And if someone did happen to come, the storage area was so stuffed full of old mouldy costumes that any sounds the two made were muffled my layers and layers of hung cloth. The only other options were to go to his house while Caroline was at work, or to Shell Cottage and hope that Fleur, Bill, and Matilda were away.
This was better. He didn't want anyone to know. Neither did she.
Silence was best.
"Oh, yes," Victoire moaned, feeling Ted's teeth on her collarbone. She was sitting on top of a box filled with witch's hats. Her blouse, a Christmas present from Maman, had been torn open, its buttons scattered across the stone floor, to be magically fixed after they were done with the act. Her brassiere was a front clasp, and now hung open on her shoulders along with her shirt, hard crinkled nipples pinched and tugged by his deft fingers. His t-shirt was thrown somewhere, and her hands were feeling up and down his bare chest, a chest she had only dreamed about before two weeks ago.
Her fingers slid to his belt and began to unfasten it. He didn't pull away. Instead, he slid his hands up her bare legs, beneath her skirt, and, pulling the soaked crotch of her knickers aside, slipped two fingers easily inside of her. She cried out in pleasure, running her hand across the bulge in his jeans before unzipping them and pulling it out.
Ted groaned as she gripped him, pumping him in synch with his fingers, which he lengthened and thickened slightly using his metamorph talents. The response was remarkable: Victoire screamed, her hips bucking once, twice, three times, as a powerful orgasm surged through her.
She slid off the box, her legs giving out as she fell to her knees in front of him. Without a word, she grasped him and took him into her mouth. Ted moaned as her tongue flicked up and down his length, traced along its tip. He ran his fingers through her short blond hair and was amazed (and more than a little turned on) to see that, while one of Victoire's hands was wrapped around his cock, at least the part that wasn't between her lips, the other was between her own legs, fingering herself furiously. As her muffled moans grew higher in pitch and as the thrusts of her head became faster and more pronounced, he knew that, whatever she was doing to herself, she was enjoying it.
He couldn't take watching her much longer. Without thinking, he grabbed her beneath her shoulders and lifted her back up onto the box. Pulling her knickers aside so hard that they tore at the crotch, Ted positioned himself between her legs. Victoire lifted her hips slightly, placing her hand on the small of his back to guide him, her eyes filled with need.
He closed his eyes as he entered her in the real world for the first time. Heard Victoire cry out in a pleasure that he had only heard, only felt, in their dreams.
In the darkness behind his eyes, he saw Hermione.
His heart stopped. "No," he gasped, pulling out of her.
"Yes," Victoire breathed. "Yes, Ted. Please. Fuck me. Please."
"I can't," he said as she groped for him.
"You can," she said, pressing him towards her again. "Please, Ted. I need you in me..."
But he couldn't. He felt himself wilt against her thigh as guilt of the act coursed through is veins like ice water.
"I'm sorry," he panted, backing away from her and falling onto a pile of loose dress robes. "I'm sorry, Vic."
"You've said that before," said Victoire, sitting up and leaning on her bare knees, trying her best to calm down. "Yet we keep ending up back here, going further every time."
"I know."
"What are we going to do?"
Ted dared a glance at her. Her blouse was still wide open, small breasts, nipples as big and ripe as gumdrops still tempting him...
"I was just about ready to ask you the same thing," said Ted with a shaky sigh, running his hands through his sweaty hair.
"I don't know," Victoire said quietly. "I don't know what to do."
Ted said nothing, merely nodding. His mind was trying to race, trying to figure out a plan to straighten out the mess that had been made of three lives, but it was also blissfully numb, unable to process anything coherently. Was that the shock, the guilt, or the Veela?
"I love you so much," she said. "These last few weeks have... I feel horrible about what we're doing, but I'm also so happy to know that we're doing it. I don't know what we should do, because how can one person feel both ways about the same thing, you know? We've crossed some line--"
"You don't think I know that?" Ted snapped. "You don't think that I know that we're... The first time was a mistake. I know that. I hate that. So was the second time. But this isn't a mistake anymore, Victoire. This is an affair. We're having an affair."
The full impact of those words him as they left his mouth. He was having an affair with Victoire Weasley. He was cheating on Hermione, his Hermione. He was cheating on his wife. The thought, the concept, the very idea of the concept of the thought was crushing his soul, tearing him apart inside.
But did it also feel liberating?
What the hell are you thinking?
"I know we are," said Victoire. "And I hate that we're doing something that would hurt HC as much as I know it would. As I know it will. Because I know that she'll find out. That's just the way things go in this world. But, still, I don't want to stop. What does that make me?"
"As fucked up in the head as I am?" Ted snorted.
"So what do we do?" she asked, standing up. As she did, her torn knickers fell to the ground.
"I don't know," he said. "This isn't just about us. This isn't about you and me and HC."
"I know," she said. "I don't want to think about what will happen if..."
But she couldn't finish the thought. Teddy cheats on HC with Victoire. HC finds out. HC leaves Ted. Word spreads through the family that Hermione Weasley's only sister is leaving Harry and Ginny Potter's godson, a boy who's just as good as family, because he was sleeping with their eldest niece. Who gets blamed? Who gets branded? Who gets hurt the most? Who sides with who after that little piece of knowledge becomes public?
And if she doesn't leave him? If Ted and HC are able to patch things up after the affair and stay together? What happens then? Even if the two decided to avoid her completely from that point on, sticking only to the Potter and Granger family functions, Victoire doubted that the next Weasley family Christmas would be as pleasant as the last. With a memory-wiped Charlie and a Scarlet Letter reminding everyone of what damage Victoire Weasley hath wrought, she might as well pack up her things and move to Romania permanently. Maybe further, so she wouldn't have to face Uncle Charlie if they ever were able to restore him to full health.
There weren't a lot of choices, as far as Victoire could see. And she knew that there were probably other options out there, somewhere in the vast void. But she was blinded, blinded by love and by him, and she could only see one way out.
But did Ted?
"Mrs. Finnigan," Ted said as she sat down beside him, "she says that I think I married too early. That my dreams are telling me that I wasn't ready yet, that I was too young to make such a decision having only been with one woman. That Hermione was the only woman I ever loved, but that I never gave myself the chance to find out what that means."
"And now?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know."
"Do you love her?"
"I think I do," he said. "I do. Yes, I do."
"Do you love me?"
Ted closed his eyes, deep in thought. "I... I don't know," he said finally. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."
It's better than a no, she thought sadly.
"The way I see it," Victoire said, leaning close to him, "there are two things that have to happen."
"What are they?"
"I leave," she said, trailing her fingers up and down his chest. "You stay with HC, you love her, the family stays mostly whole, and I stay as far away as possible. Somewhere where I won't remind everyone of all of the mistakes that I've made. Australia, maybe. Or Canada. Or the States?"
"Vic..."
"Somewhere where I don't have to learn a foreign language, you know?" she said, feeling tears coming. "I can just tell Dad and Maman and Matilda that I found an exciting new job prospect. They never have to know what happened between us."
"I can't let you do that," he said, touching her cheek. "I can't let you leave your life behind just because of me..."
"What life?" Victoire asked, crying now. "What life do I have, Ted? I don't have anything here except my family and you. But if I have you, I lose my family. We both do. If I lose you, I keep my family, but they're not going to want me around. I might as well move on, distance myself from everyone and everything and hope that what they all say is true about time and wounds and all that."
"Which leaves the other option," Ted said, his eyes growing their own tears. "I leave Hermione--"
"You will not leave her for me, do you understand me?" Vic said between clenched teeth. "I love you both too much to let you leave her for me. If you're going to seriously consider ending your marriage, you do it because of everything else: You do it because you married too early, because you're not loving her as much as you think you think a husband should love a wife, because you have have too much life to live, whatever. You do it because your brain and your heart and your soul and your dreams are all telling you that you two are better apart than together. But if you tell HC that you're leaving her for me, it will kill her. And that will kill you. And that will kill me. And it'll kill our families. I'd rather leave than have that happen."
"And what happens to us?" he asked. "In that scenario, what happens?"
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe... Maybe we tell everyone that we're dating a few months later. There might be some suspicions that something happened beforehand, but I don't know. Or maybe you do what you're supposed to do: live your life. See if there's someone more there than me or HC. That way you don't have to lie to any of us."
"More there," he repeated in a whisper. "I don't know..."
"You don't have to know," said Victoire. "But you do have to decide. Soon. I love you, Teddy Lupin, and you know which of those two options I'd prefer. But I can't decide for you."
Ted closed his eyes. "I don't know. I can't decide now. But I will decide soon. I promise."
"Okay," Victoire whispered, kissing him on the forehead. "But can I ask you one more question?"
"Hmm?"
"Am I more there than I used to be?"
Ted nodded. "You're there," he said. "Right now, you're more there than anyone."
He kissed her. Slipping his hand into her open shirt, caressing her bare breast.
"Then let me be here," she whispered, climbing atop him. "Whatever happens tomorrow, please let me love you today."
His lips found her breast. Her hands found his chest. Once again, he found his way inside her.
And, for at least one more day, on a bed of wrinkled dress robes, Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley found each other.
---------
December 28th, 2019
Time somehow seems to have jumped forward two months. I do not know if I was unconscious or if my memory has been wiped. All I do understand is that I woke up in a bed here at Hogwarts with this journal sitting beside it and my handwriting covering the pages.
I was in Poland. I had just had intercourse with Charles Weasley. I think I might be falling in love with him, whatever that definition of love is between the two of us. I fell asleep, and awoke here.
Was the search of Kaliningrad successful? Did we find the Stymphalian Birds? We must have found something, or else I wouldn't have been knocked unconscious for so long. These are questions I would like to answer. I do not know what happened to my research. Is it still in Kaliningrad? Perhaps I should ask Neville. Is that him in the bed next to mine? Is that Uriela next to him?
Perhaps this is an alternate universe. At least it is good to know that those two are still together. But, then, why would I be sharing a bedroom with them?
I have backup research somewhere. Where is it? Why can't I remember?
---------
(Neville's note: December 29th, 2019)
EVERYTHING IS A LIE! I AM BEING HELD CAPTIVE IN THIS CASTLE BY A MAN AND A WOMAN! THEY WILL NOT LET ME LEAVE! THIS IS MY HANDWRITING, BUT IT'S NOT TRUE! I DON'T KNOW MY NAME, BUT THIS IS A PART OF THEIR PLAN! IF YOU ARE READING THIS, PLEASE HELP i luv my mummy i luv my daddy 1 2 3 4 5 7 6 8 9
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December 25th, 1996
(Neville's note: written on December 30th, 2019)
Dear journal,
I am quite excited for tonight. Harry Potter has asked me to Professor Slughorn's Yule Ball. The typhoon is coming. I wish one of my roommates would help me prepare for my date. They usually dress so much better than I do. The typhoon is coming. I guess I'll just have to wear my best dress robes and hope that Harry approves. I think he will. He is very nice. The typhon is coming. I hope he doesn't laugh at me. I don't think he will. I wonder if we will have intercourse. We probably won't, the school frowns upon that. I'll wear my silver dress robes. I should put away my necklace, though. I don't think Harry likes it. The typhoon is coming. I just hope the nargles don't attack me tonight, the necklace does such a good job of warding them off. The nargles are coming. Perhaps if I wear them on my thigh, underneath my typhoon, then Harry won't think I look peculiar and I can still keep away the nargles. If I take my dress robes off in front of him later he'll see it, and I would like him to, I would like him to touch me under my dress, but I don't think he will. He said I am his typhon just as friends, which I think means that we will just act like we normally do except we will be together without any of the others. He loves Ginny, after all, even if he hasn't told her yet. Maybe I should typhoon him, and see how he reacts? I haven't kissed anyone before, I don't think I would do a very good job. I feel tingly and aroused knowing that I'll be wearing my necklace on my upper thigh. It feels nargle, but in a good way. I feel that I will have to masturbate after the party. Perhaps before. I hope they have pudding.
--------
tink
Meghan Cullen's eyelids peeled open at the noise coming from somewhere in her bedroom.
Stupid heater, she thought sluggishly. Dad really has to get that thing fixed. God, what time is it, anyway?
She rolled over onto her side to stare at her alarm clock. One thirty in the morning. Ugh.
tink
This time she pushed herself up onto her elbows. That wasn't coming from the heating ducts, but from the window. An owl?
tink
Groggily, she spun herself to the edge of the bed, her bare feet searching around her blue and white rug until they found the heels of her slippers. Curling her toes, she was able to scoot them onto her feet before standing up and walking over to the window. Why would an owl be coming at this time of night?
But there wasn't an owl on the sill. There wasn't anything at all.
tink
Steeling herself against the cold that she was sure was coming, she pulled open the window and leaned out. She looked down, and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Scorpius!" she squeaked, covering her mouth quickly for fear that she just woke up the rest of the house. The third-year Slytherin was standing in her front yard. His broomstick was lying on the snow beside him, he had a rucksack slung over his shoulder, and he had a small pile of pebbles in one hand.
"What are you doing here?" she said in a carrying whisper that she hoped he could hear but her slumbering parents were oblivious to. Scorpius, thankfully, seemed to recognize the need for silence. He pointed at himself, then pointed to her. Can I come up?
Meghan looked back into her room quickly, hoping that she didn't hear any creaking footsteps on the other side of her closed door. She bit her lip nervously, then turned back to the outside and nodded quickly, motioning him up with her hands. Scorpius smiled broadly and picked up his broomstick. With a look up and down the street, making sure no one was driving by the Cullens' house, he mounted the broom and kicked off the snow, floating up to her window one floor up.
Halfway up, she absently ran her hand through her hair, and froze.
Oh, God, she thought in a panic, feeling her matted bed hair. I'm a mess!
She ran back into the room and to her mirror, hoping to make any adjustments that could be made in the few moments that it took for Scorpius to climb through her window. She quickly realized, however, that it was a lost cause: the only light in the room was coming from the street lamps outside, and she could barely see the mirror itself, let alone any clumps of slept-on.
It's not like he's never seen you sleeping before, she reasoned. First time you met him you were in bed, remember?
A chill ran up her spine from the cold air blowing in through the open window. She realized that she was in an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms, her usual sleeping attire. But it was cold, and she wasn't wearing a bra...
Not that he'd see if you were pointy, she thought. You just said it yourself, it's dark.
What would he think if he did see it? she responded with a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. But she was still feeling very modest around him, and pulled her dressing gown from the hanger on her door and pulled it on.
"Hi," Scorpius whispered as he carefully stepped inside.
"What are you doing here?" Meghan whispered sharply, wrapping the gown tightly around herself.
"It's your birthday," he breathed. "I have your present."
"You're crazy, you know that?" she whispered, a smile twitching on the corner of her lips. "If my dad finds out you're here, he'll murder us!"
"Yeah, probably," he said with a shrug, pulling his rucksack from his back. "You don't seem too upset about it, though."
Meghan laughed reluctantly. "Where you born in a barn?" she whispered, motioning towards the window. "Close the door behind you, it's freezing out."
"Right," said Scorpius, leaning his broomstick against the wall and closing the window.
"Take your shoes off, too," she said, pointing towards his wet boots. "You're going to tramp snow all over my room."
"Yes, ma'am," Scorpius said with a smirk, pulling them off one by one and setting them right beneath the window. After he did so, he straightened back up. "Is that all you require of me?"
"Not quite," she said, approaching him and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him tight. "I missed you." she said into his shoulder, smelling the cold on his jacket.
"I missed you, too," he replied. "Sorry I haven't owled, or anything. The fam's been crazy busy all holiday."
"That's alright," she said, taking his hand and pulling him to her bed. "I would have written, too, but my dad won't let me have an owl yet."
"Few more years, you'll be able to get one of your own," he said, setting his sack between them and opening it. "You'll get to name him, and everything."
"Well, if you write me, I'll be able to write back using your owl," she said, her smile not yet leaving her face. She reached for his hand and gripped it tightly, as if to remind herself that he was actually here. It had only been a week and a half since they had parted ways for the holiday, but she didn't realize just how much she had missed him until now. She just wanted to hug him and hold his hand and take in his face and--
"How did you get here?" she asked, squeezing his hand. "You didn't sneak out of your house, did you?"
"I did."
"Did you fly all the way?"
"Most of it," he said. "You're not that far away from my place, actually."
"You live in Bath," she retorted, shifting herself a little closer. "That's about as far away from Thurso as you can get."
"I live a life of lies," he said with a smirk. "No, I used some of our Floo Powder to come up here. There's a station about four miles away, I flew from there."
"Aren't your parents going to be mad?"
"Yeah," he shrugged. "But I should be able to get back before they know I'm gone, and I wanted to give you your birthday present before anyone else."
At this, he pulled out a simple box with a ribbon tied across the top.
"This looks like more than sweets," Meghan breathed, putting it her lap. "Scorpius, you didn't have to--"
"Of course I did. Go on, open it."
She did, pulling aside the ribbon and pulling open the lid. She gasped at the small metal object inside.
"It's not much, I know," Scorpius started explaining, far too quickly, as Meghan pulled the small metal bird out of the box by its long leather loop. "But I had a few extra Christmas Galleons from my grandparents but its an eagle, like Ravenclaw, and the blue thing inside it it's just glass or whatever, but I thought--"
Meghan Cullen had never kissed a boy before. When she kissed Scorpius Malfoy, cutting him off, she could tell that he wasn't ready for it. She went in quick, kissing him on a mouth that were still open in mid-word. She felt his teeth and his tongue against her lips instead of his own. She pulled away quickly, her face blazing red. She turned away fast, with a small, embarrassed smile, but not before seeing Scorpius's face. He looked like he had just been smacked in the back of the head by a very large pillow. His mouth was hung open in shock.
"Wow," he said with an exhale.
"It's wonderful," Meghan said, twisting the leather strap in her lap, suddenly feeling incredibly shy. "Thank you."
"No problem," he said in a dazed tone. "Do you... um... can I get another shot at that?"
She dared herself to look back up at him. She nodded. They leaned into each other. This time, their lips touched. It felt a lot nicer.
"Thanks," he said, his face now as red as hers. "I never kissed a girl before. I just wanted to not come off like a complete doof."
"You were fine," she said quietly, her eyes half-lidded. "I haven't kissed anyone before, either."
"We could probably... um... use some practice," he said, leaning in again.
"Practice is good," she breathed.
This time their kiss was a little longer. It wasn't perfect, she knew that. She was leaning towards him, and she knew that she should probably be touching him somehow, putting his hand on the back of his neck or something, but was to nervous to do anything but leave them planted on the bed. She also knew, from the lack of any touches on her own body, that Scorpius was feeling the same way. However, this time she dared herself to open her mouth slightly, and he responded by doing the same. She felt the tip of his tongue on hers, just briefly, and it felt weird. But it was a nice weird, the kind that sent even more shivers up her back.
After what felt like an eternity, but was closer to ten or fifteen seconds, they separated. Scorpius was wearing a stupefied grin on his face, and Meghan knew that hers was probably matching his. With a giggle, she wiped some of Scorpius's saliva from her cheek, and was amused to see him wipe some of hers off his chin.
"I think we need more practice," she said, feeling a stronger laugh build, but had to stave it off. This was still her room, after all. Her parents were sleeping right down the hall. The last thing she wanted was to wake them up.
"Definitely more practice," Scorpius replied with his own smile. "But I'm up for it if you are."
"Absolutely," she said, this time just kissing him quickly on the cheek. "But not tonight. I need sleep, and you need to go home before you're grounded."
"Fine, fine," he sighed with an air of great martyrdom. "I suppose I can leave."
"It's lovely," she said, pulling the necklace on over her head and pulling her hair from inside the loop. "I'm never taking it off again."
"I'm glad you like it," he said, rubbing her arm absently.
"Best birthday ever," she said with a contented grin. "And it's not even two in the morning. Are you doing anything tonight? For New Years?"
"Nothing much," Scorpius sighed. "My family has a party every year, but it's really boring. All high society and lots of champagne and Granddad Lucius looking down his nose at anyone he thinks we're better than. Not exactly my idea of a good time."
"Well," she said, building up the courage to keep talking, "if you want to come over tonight, my Mum and Dad are making me and some of my friends tacos for my birthday? You'd probably have to play Muggle for the night, cuz Cindy and Kelly just think I'm at some private school, they don't know I'm a witch yet, but we stay up till midnight and count down the new year and it'd be really cool if you were there?"
"I don't know," he said. "I want to, I really do. But... I don't know how well I can play Muggle yet. Besides, I thought I had heard that Scorpius isn't a Muggle name."
"We can call you Scott!" Meghan said brightly. "Scott Malfoy! It'll be fun!"
"Alright," he sighed, "how about I just be the honest coward and say that I'm terrified to meet your parents? I know your friends aren't going to know I'm a wizard, but your dad's going to know. He's not a fan, remember?"
Meghan grumbled, sticking her lip into a pout. "This stinks," she said. "I have a boyfriend, and I want to show everyone how cool and nice he is and my dad's being an idiot. Life's not fair."
"Don't I know it," Scorpius said. "I'd invite you over, too, but my dad'll probably give us the same grief that your dad will."
"Cuz I'm a Muggle-born," she said sadly.
"They'll come around," he said with great assurance. "Mum'll be glad that Hedda's Little Scorpius found himself a powerful witch who happens to be absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you," she said, her face on fire now.
"I think things'll even out eventually. Besides, Dad's more tolerant than Granddad, even if he doesn't like to say it around everyone else."
"Mum'll love you," Meghan said, grabbing both of his hands. "Are you sure you can't--?"
Scorpius closed his eyes, deep in thought. Took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I'll come tonight if you think it'll be alright."
Meghan only squealed in response, giving him a brief kiss. For being so terrified a few minutes ago of putting her lips on his, Meghan suddenly felt like she just couldn't keep away from them...
"Well, then, I really have to go," he said, standing up and grabbing his boots. "If I get grounded, all bets are off."
"Go!" she said, fluttering her hands towards the window. "Go, sleep, come back at six!"
"Six it is," he said, grabbing his broomstick and opening the window. "You are going to warn them that I'm coming, right?"
"I'll smooth it out," she said. "I'm good at being Daddy's Little Girl if I need to be."
"Good," he said, now straddling the windowsill. "Alright, well... Um... six o' clock, then."
"Wait!" she said, jumping to her feet.
"What?"
This time Meghan did put her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him to her and kissing him with everything she could muster. For one amazing moment, their mouths even opened completely, and she felt his tongue enter her mouth before they both closed again. She felt like that was the kind of kiss that she could dream about for a month.
"Sleep good," she said with a bright smile.
"You, too," he said with a matching grin.
"Thank you for my birthday present."
"Birthday's not over yet..."
And with that, Scorpius jumped on his broomstick and flew off into the night. Meghan Cullen leaned on out the window, watching him until she couldn't see him through the darkness. She closed the window, jumped onto her bed, and, shoving her face into her pillow, screamed the scream of joy unique to young girls who find themselves completely head-over-heels for a boy for the first time.
Eventually, her heart ceased its mad beating, and Meghan Cullen fell asleep with a smile on her face.
That night, she dreamed of kissing Scorpius Malfoy again and again and again.
---------
January 1st, 2020
I am very confused right now, and very very sad. I fell asleep in Neville's arms, and awoke with him in another bed, sleeping beside a woman I do not know. I did not believe that Neville would sleep with another woman while in a relationship, but I guess I am sadly mistaken.
I do not know what to do right now. I do not know what to say to him. My heart is aching.
---------
January 2nd, 2020
The Oligarchy is coming.
---------
"Final preparations are complete, Steward Ammit," said Atrytone. "The package is in place, and ready to be unleashed at your command."
"Excellent," said Ammit, Mask of Cairo. "Prospero?"
"Preparations for the first phase are complete, Steward Ammit," said Prospero with a nod.
"I would have you give the message, Prospero."
"Madam?"
"The message," said Ammit, her crocodile teeth glistening in the light shining onto the Circle from nowhere.
"But, Steward Ammit," Prospero said, "surely as the elected official, it would be your right--"
"It is my right," said Ammit, "as it is my right to pass that privilege to another. The Next is your fellow countryman. And although we bring it about together, Project Beta will be centered in your territory. It would be foolish for anyone but a native to give the message."
"I agree," said Kitsune, Mask of Osaka. "Let it be you, Prospero. You have earned the right."
"Thank you," said Prospero with a nod. "It will be my honor to represent the Circle of Thirteen in our day of glory."
"Are there any complications?" Ammit asked the rest of the Circle. "If any find a need to delay the operation, speak now."
The twelve others shook their heads.
"Very well," said Ammit, the large jaws of her mask twitching in a smile. "We are the Oligarchy."
"The few shall rule the many."
"We are the Circle of Thirteen."
"The first to leave shall be the first to die."
"We honor the past."
"We serve the next."
"Tomorrow, then," said Ammit. "Tomorrow, Project Beta. Tomorrow, at long last, the Oligarchy shall reveal themselves.
"All praise to The Next."
Dream Interpretations / Previous Chapters / Final Preparations