Dreams of Cold Fusion (working title) [Odd pairing - beware]
Cold, biting cold - he’d forgotten how he’d ended up here, remembering faintly his relief that his friends were cleanly away, but that relief had been subsumed by the cold and the darkness. He’d always wondered if the prophecy meant that he couldn’t be killed by anyone other than Voldemort. Ron had joked about it once, saying that he should try it out with a double-decker bus, but then Hermione had characteristically pointed out that while it might be true that only Voldemort could kill him, being maimed or crippled was not ruled out by the express terms of the prophecy.
How many hours before dawn?
+++
The body was discovered quite by accident, stiff and cold, with barely a pulse detectable. The senior of the pair realized how valuable he could be, and ordered that he be taken back to the lair for safekeeping. A number of things had to be arranged if they were to capitalize on their good fortune, including convincing the Dreamweaver to cooperate in the little experiment that was forming in his very orderly mind.
+++
When he opened his eyes he was sitting in a comfortable seat in a large auditorium, listening to a stately wizard speaking with an accent - American, Canadian? Something like that. Everyone was wearing Muggle clothing, not robes, which was different, but given the fact that almost everyone had a wand, it was certainly a magical gathering.
“Good afternoon, I’m Coordinator Duquesne and I’d like to welcome the 2001 entering class to the North American Auror Academy. We have students from the tribes and provinces and forty-seven of the fifty states, as well as students from Europe and Asia. Quite a few of you have already made a name for yourselves, and I look forward to getting to know you over the next three years,” the man stated, before droning on with announcements. He then called roll, alphabetically, asking each student to stand and state their area of concentration and where they’d taken their secondary education. Although “Baker, Cassandra,” was a strikingly beautiful girl from the Salem Witch’s Institute who reminded him distantly of Fleur, he’d zoned out again, until he heard Duquesne call out “Bulstrode, Millicent,” and a familiar dark-haired girl stood up across the hall, announcing that she was from Hogwarts and looked forward to studying forensics. She caught his eye before she sat down, giving him a wink. He then tried to pay attention to “Carmody, Miguel” but found his mind wandering again. After an interminable time listening to other announcements, the class was dismissed. He waited for the room to thin out a bit before pushing up from his chair, heading towards the door.
“Earth to Harry,” a familiar English voice rang out beside him. He turned.
“I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I’m really glad to see an Englishman here,” she said, extending her hand. “Millicent Bulstrode, and you are the last person I expected to see here.”
He took her hand, noting her firm, pleasant grip. “I remember you, Millicent,” he said.
“I hope you won’t hold it against me,” she said hopefully. “Being a half-blood in Slytherin was hell, I’ll have you know.”
“Actions have consequences, Millicent,” he said coolly.
“Are you proud of all of the decisions you made between the ages of eleven and seventeen, every one of them?” Millicent asked defiantly.
+++
His attention slipped away, and he was half a world away in another lifetime.
“I want to go with you,” Ginny said.
“I need you to be safe,” he protested.
“Where’s that, Harry? Have you taken a good long look at Mum’s clock - all the hands are at ‘Mortal Peril,” she said softly, her eyes beginning to well up with unshed tears.
+++
How he regretted that day - regretted not staying longer, regretted not giving in, regretted not letting her tag along for the rest of the summer. No, he left her at the Burrow, where she’d be safe, idling away the last two weeks of August, including the last fateful night of August when Molly and Ginny were trapped inside the hastily erected wards surrounding the Burrow as it burned down.
His attention slipped back again.
+++
“I guess not,” he said. He extended his hand. “Harry Potter, glad to meet you, Miss Bulstrode, it’s good to see an Englishwoman on this side of the pond.”
Millicent gave his hand a firm shake.
“Have you moved in yet?” she asked.
“I dropped by the flat the student office suggested - but I thought I’d let the rats breed in peace there, so I’ll have to find something - I just got in this morning,” Harry replied.
“There’s a flat in the building next to mine - if you don’t mind a window that looks down onto a swimming pool, it’s not too bad,” Millicent volunteered.
“Lead on,” Harry said.
+++
The first week of classes was a blur. The academic portion of Auror training was worse than N.E.W.T. level classes, with massive assigned reading loads for every class, and a truly fiendishly difficult Practicum at the end of the week. To his relief, he recognized the booby-trap guarding the locked room - it was a variant of the charms protecting the Riddle mansion. He escaped with a slightly numb hand and a word of grudging praise from the instructor, a terse, dark-haired Wizard from the Tribal Guardians in Saskatchewan. He collected his satchel and sat on the steps outside the training centre, soaking up the rays of sunshine. The sun felt good on his cold, numb hand.
“So, how did it go?” a familiar voice asked, bringing him to the here and now. It was Millicent.
“Not too bad,” he said.
“I hear you were the only one to pass the Practicum,” Millicent said.
“I was lucky - I’d seen that before,” Harry said quietly.
“Luck had nothing to do with it - you’re a natural,” Millicent said.
“How’s it with you?” Harry asked politely.
“I can’t believe the reading load - my flatmate says that I should just take my pillow to the library and save time,” Millicent said, snorting at the suggestion.
“Yeah, I hear you. You eaten yet?” he asked.
“My flatmate is taking me out for sushi - celebrating surviving our first week,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered if you’d like to go eat somewhere, for dinner or something,” Harry said, hoping that his face wasn’t showing the warmth he felt.
“Are you asking me out for a date, Harry Potter?” Millicent asked, a bright smile lighting up her face.
“Yeah, I guess,” he replied.
“I’m free Saturday - how about 6:00? Pick me up at my place?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Harry said, pushing up from the steps. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask - on one hand she wasn’t the most attractive woman on the planet, but on the other hand, he’d not exactly bowled over the female members of his class, most of whom regarded him as competition, and he missed the simple pleasures of eating and talking with someone who wasn’t trying to memorize the vulnerable portions of the human nervous system.
Saturday morning was spent processing laundry and laying in basic foodstuffs for his rather Spartan kitchenette. He’d half-way paid attention to a couple of his classmates’ rambling discussions, rating the eateries that catered to students on this side of the town, so he had a notion of where he’d take her, although he hadn’t the foggiest notion of what normal people did on -- dates. At least it wasn’t Madame Puddifoot’s.
He had a flutter of uncertainty in his stomach when he arrived. He remembered vaguely where her flat was in the building, having walked her home from the training centre once. He heard a soft tinkling of music on the other side of the door. He rapped on it lightly with his knuckles. The door opened, disclosing a short woman with close-cropped hair. He’d seen her before at the training centre, but not among the Aurors.
She smiled broadly, motioning that he should come in. “Milly, your date’s here!” she called over her shoulder. Turning back to Harry, she confided, “I love embarrassing her - she’s the sister I never had.”
Millicent pushed the bathroom door open, blotting her lipstick with a tissue. Her hair was nicely arranged in a French knot. “Don’t scare him away, Esther. Good to see you, Harry, you cleaned up nicely,” she said.
“I have to say the same for you,” he said, trying to figure out exactly what was different about her.
“I’m not wearing Hogwarts robes, for one thing,” she said, guessing his train of thought. “Plus, I’ve lost about a stone since I got away from the all-the-carbohydrates-you-can-eat diet I was on at school.”
She was dressed simply in a long-sleeved linen tunic with matching slacks. The outfit was dressed up with a jade necklace with matching earrings.
“Behave yourself, Esther,” she called as she walked out the door.
Once the door was closed, she turned to face him.
“I’ll understand if you want to cancel, here and now,” she said, trying to look brave.
“Who would I eat dinner with if I did that?” Harry asked sincerely.
“I have a hard time believing that you’d lack for company, here in the city,” Millicent said, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. The familiarity took him by surprise, but it was good, in a way, comforting, perhaps.