Inner Demons - Chapter 25
Title: Inner Demons (sequel to Starting Over)
Chapter 25/60: Learning to Play the Game
Author:
serendipity_50
Pairings: H/G, R/Hr
Warnings: Het sex, mild profanity, ANGST
Word Count this chapter: about 6,400
Era: Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Author's Notes: Thanks for your patience. I had written a monster chapter with 11,000 words -- it felt like giving birth without an epidural or a breathing coach and the labor went on for days and days (probably because I can't stand the thought of Harry with someone besides Ginny, but he is human...). Anyway, the joke's on me because LJ won't let me post the whole thing. HA! So... I've split it into two chapters (the cliffie jumped up and down and waved at me) -- Howler wards are in place -- but I've included an extra treat. As always, thanks to Ashwinder and Minisinoo for their invaluable input. Comments (even critical ones) are encouraged, but they probably won't change the direction this story is taking.
Story Summary: Long-distance relationships are hard under normal circumstances, but Harry and Ginny don’t have the luxury of living normal lives. Their relationship is put to the test when Ginny returns to school and Harry stays behind to continue his Auror training. Ginny realizes her greatest challenge may be in coming to terms with Harry’s fame and dangerous line of work and deciding if she can make the sacrifices needed to be part of his life.
Chapter Summary: The cat-and-mouse game continues as Harry struggles for control.
~~~~~~~~~~
“They will be watching,” Katya whispered softly into Harry’s ear. “We must give them good show, yes?”
His brain took a moment to catch up when she drew him down for a kiss; before he realized what had happened, his mouth was open to the exploration of her warm lips and dancing tongue. He started to pull away, but she held him in place, winding her fingers into his hair and pressing her hips against his growing response, begging him for more with a sultry purr.
He’d gone too long without a heart beating next to his, the warmth of another body wrapped around him, and he was drawn to her like a frozen man to a crackling hearth. Four months of pent up need came crashing in on him and his defenses gave way.
His body took over and all thought ceased.
Katya trailed a hand down his chest and under his robes to stroke his back through his shirt. Of their own accord, his hands began moving, too-the one still holding his wand drifted down to the swell of her bum and pulled her more firmly into his erection; the other traced her voluptuous curves to cup her breast and thumb a taut nipple. As far as he could tell, nothing lay between his hands and her skin but a single silky layer of pale blue velvet. She moaned into him and he clutched her more tightly, every nerve ending focused on finding release for the throbbing pressure between them.
Through the haze of desire, his mind called up a vision of rose-dotted skin and blazing brown eyes, and suddenly nothing felt right: the curves against his body didn’t fit properly-the breast was too heavy, the hips too full-and the scent hovering in the air was too pungent, not the light, sweet tang he craved. The realization of what he was doing hit him like a Bludger.
Katya stumbled forward when he released her without warning. With a hand at her elbow to steady her, he drew a ragged breath and took another step backward as she moved to embrace him again. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know this girl-this woman-and he sure as hell didn’t trust her yet. Yes, he’d accepted the role of besotted lover and he’d have to publicly play along until he could work out what she wanted and find out what she knew. But did that really mean he had to keep up the act in private?
“Something is wrong?” She looked honestly puzzled and perhaps a bit hurt.
Willing his body into control, Harry squelched the twinge of guilt that rose in his chest and forced a smile. “I think we should probably go back in… maybe dance or something… before things get-er-out of hand.”
She lowered her lashes coyly. “But I do not mind if things… get out of hand. I am thinking that you had them well in hand.”
As his face flamed, she reached for him again, but he fended off the motion by lacing his fingers through hers. “I mean that maybe we should move the show inside… for a bigger audience.”
At her brilliant smile, he realized what he’d said and wished that he could go ahead and burst into flame to end the misery. She showed no mercy at his distress. “Yes, would be… entertaining, to act so in there.”
“No! No, I meant that we should dance… let people see us together… but not-not like that…” Harry cursed his red face and stammering tongue. Smooth, Potter, real smooth. Merlin, he wasn’t cut out for this sort of game.
She tiptoed and brushed her lips lightly against his. “Is okay, Harry. Perhaps later we continue, hmmm?”
Harry looked away and led her to the door. He had no intention of finishing what they’d started, but he wasn’t sure if telling her so would ruin his chances of finding out what she knew about Dolohov-if she even knew anything. Maybe sex was all she wanted and she was only dangling the potential for information as bait. Or maybe she was the bait that someone else was using. Whatever or whoever she was, all he wanted from her was answers.
***
Harry slumped back onto the sofa and closed his eyes, relieved that the stressful evening was finally over. He’d take a good wizard battle over this con game any day of the week.
After the balcony scene, they’d danced for about an hour as Harry had tried in vain to get some answers. She had refused to talk about Dolohov for fear of being overheard-or so she’d said.
His relief had been palpable when the first guests began leaving, signaling that he could make his escape without creating an international crisis. Of course his role-playing with Katya on the dance floor had given them a good excuse to leave early-at least the knowing smiles from the other guests had seemed to indicate that their act was believable. Harry had been amazed that he’d pulled it off.
With everyone openly watching them, he had decided that the best course in playing his part was to follow Katya’s lead-she had seemed to know what she was doing; he’d felt like the court jester. Their interlude on the balcony had dislodged the rigid control he usually held over his mind, and Katya’s warm, firm body moving against his had kept his blood stirred, making it impossible to concentrate on their charade as he worked to restrain the memories and feelings he thought he’d locked away forever. The constant conflict in his head had stretched his deception skills to the limit.
Every time he’d tried to cast an adoring look into those blue eyes, even though it wasn’t real, he’d felt like he was betraying Ginny. Then, the anger would take over and he’d remember that he had every right to be with any woman he wanted. But, no matter how his body responded to her, he didn’t really want Katya. He didn’t trust her, but he hated that he was taking advantage of her just to further his mission, even if she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she had encouraged him to do so; some of the things she’d whispered to him had made it nearly impossible to keep dancing.
The hotel suite door opened.
“What are you doing here?” Harry raised his head to find Summers, frozen in the act of yanking off his tie and unbuttoning his collar, gaping at him. “No, I mean, what are you doing here.”
“Well, I wasn’t going back to her place. For all I know, she’s got a dozen of Dolohov’s thugs waiting there.”
Summers rolled his eyes. “So… what? You just sent her home?”
“No, she’s in there.” Harry cocked his head toward the room he and Summers had been sharing.
The moment they’d closed themselves into the suite, Katya had shed her seductress persona like a too-warm cloak. Although she still wouldn’t give him any answers, she did quietly offer to keep the promises she’d made earlier-but she’d seemed almost relieved when he had politely declined. And rather than arguing about being locked in, as he’d expected, she’d given him a look that could only be described as grateful.
But Harry didn’t feel like explaining that to Summers, and patted the couch. “I’ll stay here. I moved your bed in with Ingalls.”
Ignoring Summers’ indignant sputtering about mental stability and loud snoring, Ingalls gave Harry a serious look. “So what did you find out?”
“Nothing,” Harry muttered in irritation. “She wants me to go with her to meet someone tomorrow.”
“Are you going? You’ll need backup,” Ingalls said. “Who is it? Where?”
“Dunno. She won’t say. Just says that it’s better if I hear the story from the person who knows it best.” Harry shook his head in wonder. “That scene on the balcony was totally out of the blue. I have no idea why she covered for me like that… or what she wants in return.”
“You don’t know what she wants? Are you barmy?” Summers groaned as he stared with longing at the closed bedroom door and absently ran a hand over the front of his trousers. His voice took on a pleading tone. “Oh, give me some Polyjuice. I’ll give her what she wants.”
“Shut it, you wanker.” Harry was growing impatient with Summers’ one-track mind. “She gathers information for the Ministry. For her to defy them like this, she wants more than a friendly poke.”
“Harry’s right,” Ingalls said. “Something’s off about this. I don’t like it. But it’s a good thing you brought her here. They’ll be watching-here and at her place. If you’d sent her home alone, the game would be up. Is she locked in?”
“Yeah. My strongest alarms are set and I’ll be on watch out here. She should be okay.”
“But I still don’t understand why you’re out here.” Summers said. “You could be watching her in there. In your bed. Naked.”
Harry ran a hand through his already-ruffled hair and groaned in exasperation. “Some things are more important than sex.”
Summers looked skeptical. “Well, maybe… but there’s no reason you can’t have sex, too. Think about what you’re doing! I can’t believe you’re just going to pass that up!”
Harry’s irritation finally rose to the surface. “Just because you’ll shag anything in a skirt, doesn’t mean everyone wants to!”
Summers threw his arms into the air, his frustration clear. “She was practically begging you for it. It doesn’t have to be a lifetime commitment, you know.”
Harry jumped from the couch, fists balled. “I said piss off! If I wanted to do it, I’d do it, but it would only remind me of things I can’t have, so there’s no point.” He clamped his mouth shut, furious that he’d let his exhaustion rule his emotions and make him say more than he’d intended.
Ingalls shoved Summers toward the bedroom. “Go to bed.” He gave Harry an approving look and jutted his chin at Summers. “Ignore him. He’s an idiot. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Harry nodded gratefully as Summers grumbled off down the hall.
Hours passed as Harry stared with unseeing eyes into the fire, working to put his carefully compartmentalized brain back in order. Thoughts of Ginny fought valiantly for their freedom, taking the battle into the hollow of his chest and stirring up the longing for love and family he had worked so hard to suppress. God, he missed her… and Ron and Hermione and all of the family he’d come to think of as his own. The sudden yearning left him feeling empty, desolate. He couldn’t quite bring himself to hope that Ginny was happy with Dean, but he couldn’t hold on to the anger any longer either. Not when he missed her so much. Not when he loved her so much it hurt.
From years of experience, he knew that dwelling on what he couldn’t have was useless. But, like scabs on a wound that never heals, he pulled and poked at the memories and yearnings for a bit anyway just to feel the pain… just to feel anything besides the emptiness. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he angrily jammed the feelings back into their box and nailed the lid down. He simply wasn’t meant to have a family-he had to accept it and move on.
The distant rumble of Ingalls’ snoring got louder and then softer again as the door to the bedroom opened and closed. Harry remained still, listening to Summers pad to the dining room, apparently, by the sounds that followed, for something to drink from the magically chilled cupboard under the sideboard. As he came back through, Summers stopped at the doorway to the hall.
“You ’wake?” he whispered.
Harry waited several beats before answering with a sigh. “Yeah.”
“I think he’s louder than usual. Even the silencing charms aren’t helping tonight.”
Harry smiled into the dark. They’d had to resort to some creative spell casting to handle the problem when they were using the tent. “Want some help?”
“Nah. I’ll use ear plugs.” A moment passed before Summers spoke again. “Hey, um, about earlier. I didn’t mean to-”
Harry waved his hand wearily. “Forget it. You’re probably right. I’m completely mental.”
The silence lengthened and Harry thought for a moment that Summers had left. When he spoke again, his voice was tentative. “You know… it might help you to, you know, move on… maybe not her, but somebody… it wouldn’t have to be permanent… they don’t all want a commitment, you know-”
“You got any family?” Harry interrupted quietly, not taking his eyes from the fire.
The question seemed to surprise Summers. “Yeah… Mum and Dad. Three older brothers. Why?”
“You see them much?”
“Usually just at the holidays.”
“You keep in touch, though, right?”
Summers’ voice grew annoyed. “A bit. What are you on about?”
Harry took his time answering, swallowing hard to be sure his voice sounded normal when he finally spoke. “Just don’t take them for granted, yeah? Write a letter to your mother.”
Harry didn’t look to see Summers’ reaction and wasn’t surprised when, eventually, the bedroom door opened and closed again, leaving behind a heavy silence.
***
“Sorry, mate, but you just don’t look like a man who’s spent the night living out all of his fantasies with the ‘sveethardt ov vizarding Rrroosha!’”
Summers cackled merrily as Harry cast a rude gesture and a bleary-eyed glare over the rim of his coffee mug. He’d had a long night, managing to doze only lightly as his brain alternately battled with thoughts of Ginny and tried decide which of Katya’s personalities to believe-the sultry seductress or the grateful victim.
“He’s right.” Ingalls wasn’t taking the mickey, but Harry glared at him, too. “Are you going to play this through, or do we need to get out now?”
Harry set his mug down and ran his fingers under his glasses with a heavy sigh of resignation. “I guess we need to play it through. She went way out on a limb for me last night. Even if she doesn’t know anything, if we disappear now, I think she’ll… suffer.”
Ingalls nodded in acceptance and tossed something at him. “Drink this, then.”
On reflex, Harry snatched the small bottle from the air and rolled it in his fingers. “What is it?”
“Euphoria Elixir. It’ll help you look the part, or at least look more relaxed, but it won’t muddle your brain. You need to keep your wits about you.”
Harry scowled at the sunshine yellow liquid. He didn’t want to look the part. He didn’t want to play the part. Katya seemed to be making all of the rules for this game and he felt totally out of his depth. He wasn’t convinced that she knew anything, but he couldn’t just walk away at this point-and it angered him that his obsession for Dolohov would drive him to such lengths. But obsessed he was, so he was stuck trying to look like a man smitten by a woman he didn’t trust. Yeah, he’d definitely need to keep his wits sharp.
Summers suddenly gasped, choking on a mouthful of breakfast that went down the wrong passage as he pointed across the room. Harry jumped from his chair, wand drawn, ready to do battle, only to find Katya hovering in the bedroom doorway-wearing, apparently, nothing but Harry’s dress shirt with only the bottom three buttons fastened. It hung nearly to her knees and covered everything it should, but somehow she managed to look sexier than any of the naked witches in the twins’ secret magazine stash. The seductress was back.
Harry cursed the part of his body that remembered too quickly what hers had felt like rubbing against it; he dodged behind Summers to hide what his well-worn flannel pyjama bottoms and too-short t-shirt had no hope of concealing. If he’d had any idea she would borrow his shirt like that, he’d never have banished it back to the wardrobe in her-his-room after he’d changed in the other bathroom last night.
She watched Summers with a small crease of worry between her brows until Ingalls had whacked him on the back enough that he began to breathe again, then she turned her gaze to Harry. “I may speak with you for a moment, please?”
Nothing came out when Harry tried to answer, so he nodded.
She took a step backward and held out her hand. “Alone? Please?”
Face flaming, Harry tucked his wand back into his pocket and avoided Summers’ and Ingalls’ eyes as he followed her into the bedroom. He leaned back against the closed door, keeping his hand on the knob for ready escape, but she had reverted back to frightened innocent and stood hesitantly at the end of the bed with her arms wrapped protectively around herself. Harry scowled viciously as he concentrated on keeping his eyes on her face.
“You are angry with me?” Her eyes were wide with uncertainty and… was that fear?
“No!” It came out with more force than he intended. He took a deep breath and relaxed his face with an effort. “No. I just-”
She was next to him in the space of heartbeat, but held herself away and motioned for him to lean over so she could whisper into his ear. “I wish not to speak aloud. They will hear.”
He suddenly understood the fear-or at least her act-and spoke quietly next to her ear. “No, it’s okay. We’ve cast protection charms…”
Her hair brushed his cheek as she shook her head and lowered her voice so much that he had to lean closer and strain to hear. Even without touching, he could tell she was trembling. “We cannot give them reason-the Commander, he will find… what is saying?… false witnesses… that we were not- We must give evidence we are… together. After Quidditch match, I take you to meet someone… someone who know Dolohov as child. But they must not suspect. Is important to life. You will help me? Please?”
He pulled back to look into her pleading eyes. Did she really mean that someone might die? The fear on her face looked real-she appeared to be truly terrified of being caught in the lie she’d told… for him. For whatever reason, she’d saved his neck last night-probably Summers’ and Ingalls’ necks as well. He wouldn’t have gone quietly if the Russians had tried to take him and, no doubt, someone would have got hurt, not to mention the international scandal it would have triggered. He’d made the decision on his own to break into the Ministry, but now he had three people who would be going down with him if the truth were discovered. And she would probably suffer the worst of it.
“I promise, when is safe, I tell everything.” Her voice was soft, but intense. “Please, be certain of me in this. I mean no harm. We want same end.”
He searched those impossibly blue eyes for anything that would give away her game. But hadn’t he already decided to see it through? If he was going to do this, what was the point in holding back?
“What do we need to do?” he asked, resigned to the task.
She closed her eyes and slumped in relief for a moment before looking back up at him. “They will be watching-at window. We must give another show. They-” She hesitated, then watched warily for his response as she continued. “They will take pictures.”
Oh, great! Pictures. His favorite thing. She sounded like she was working from a script that, no doubt, included leaking the photos to the press. With a grimace, he pushed the thought away-the press was an annoyance he’d learned to live with and he had more important matters to attend to right now. Huffing out a determined breath, he nodded his agreement and steeled himself for what was ahead, waiting stiffly for her to take the lead.
She pulled back and studied him for a moment; a sad look washed over her face. “Is so terrible to kiss me?”
Harry flushed and looked away. “No, I-” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence; he certainly wasn’t going to admit that he’d only ever been with one girl, not when she was so obviously experienced in these matters… and he should probably explore that matter further, but he pushed the notion away for now and concentrated on how to look like less of a fool. Noticing the forgotten potion bottle in his hand, he watched it roll back and forth in his palm so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “I’m sorry… I’m a bit out of sorts… didn’t sleep well last night.” He finally looked at her and held up the bottle. “I think this will help.”
He pulled the cork and threw the contents back before he could change his mind. Resting his head against the door, he waited for the rush of adrenaline and endorphins to take effect-the same feeling that he had got catching the Snitch in a tight match or watching Voldemort fall for the final time… or his first time in the Room with-NO! He couldn’t let that thought take form again.
The potion worked its magic quickly; he could feel his body relaxing in the giddy thrill of euphoria. Apparently, his face showed it, too, because Katya smiled.
She poked a finger through a rip in his shirt to tickle his ribs and smirked when he jerked away. “I may change this?” she whispered.
Harry looked at her in surprise. “Change what?”
She gave the rip a little tug and it opened a bit further. “These clothes. Is not very… um, romantic.”
He surveyed his pyjamas with fresh eyes and flushed. Wearing something “romantic” to bed had never crossed his mind-comfort was the main consideration-and the last time he’d found himself in a romantic situation like this, he hadn’t worn anything at all (he shut that thought down quickly). Katya was right. The red t-shirt and red-and-gold plaid flannel bottoms had fit perfectly well when Mrs. Weasley had got them for him fifth year, but he’d long since grown too tall for them and the fabric was now almost transparent and frayed at the bottoms into a wild mane of tangled thread.
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “I guess that would be a good idea.”
She retrieved her wand from the night table and flicked it at him, leaving him shirtless and transfiguring his pyjama bottoms into black silk-which did even less to hide the embarrassing bulge than the worn flannel had. Her pupils dilated as she slowly caressed his body with her eyes-from the chills that ran across his skin, she might as well have used her fingers. But she made no comment, only held out her hand in invitation as she backed toward the window.
Swallowing hard, he followed. Katya turned to face the window, pulling Harry’s arms around her waist from behind and hugging them to her. He pressed a cheek against her hair, carefully keeping his hands away from dangerous places and a bit of space between their lower bodies-the elixir might have him on an unnatural high, but his mind was clear and he intended to stay in control this time.
Framed in the window, they watched the snowflakes floating onto the terrace garden, turning the magical flowers into sugarcoated candy. Anyone taking a picture would be able to identify them both easily. After a few moments, she turned in his arms. His stomach flipped and he drew in a steadying breath as she twined her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers.
“You are okay?” she whispered against his mouth.
He could taste something sweet on her breath and suddenly realized that he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet. As he started to pull back, she pushed a hand into his hair and stood up on tiptoes to suck on his bottom lip. The unexpected move shifted his hand down from the small of her back onto her firm round bottom; his body responded on its own, pulling her tightly against him. So much for staying in control. Some small part of his mind held on, but knowing what they were trying to accomplish, he went with the flow, meeting her tongue with his, burying a fist in her hair, even as he eased his other hand into more neutral territory. The kiss seemed to last forever, but it was almost more comforting than passionate. When she broke the contact, Harry was engulfed with a sense of loss, even though she remained wrapped in his arms, dragging her nails in light circles over his scalp. He closed his eyes and leaned into the sensation, resisting the urge to pant with pleasure like an overgrown puppy.
“I must go now. To get ready for Quidditch match.” She stretched up for another soft kiss, then disentangled herself from him. He told himself that his reluctance to let go was all part of the act.
She stepped back into her strappy high heels, shrunk her ball gown and put it into her cloak pocket, then slipped the cloak on over his shirt. His body overheated at the thought that she was going to go out in public like that, even if no one else would know.
She was halfway through the blessedly empty dining room, heading down to the lobby Apparition point, before he remembered his manners and scrambled to catch her up at the main door to the suite. “I should walk you down.”
“Is no need” She ran an appreciative glance down him. “You are not dressed.”
He flamed like a torch and ran a nervous hand over the scattering of dark hair on his chest. “Oh-ah, yeah. Guess not.”
She smiled and put a gentle hand on his cheek. “You are good man, Harry Potter. Thank you.” The words were said with such intense emotion that he couldn’t remember how to breathe for a moment, much less come up with a response. “I see you at Quidditch match.”
Harry nodded, feeling dazed. “Yeah. At the match.”
He stood for several moments staring at the closed door, wondering how he’d forgotten his resolve to stay in control. Maybe it was another potion or some sort of spell she’d cast when she’d transfigured his clothes? He felt like he was trying to hang onto a bewitched broom, never knowing which way she was going to toss him next.
“Now, that looks like a man who’s been living his fantasies.” Summers’ voice, wistful but not taunting, jerked Harry from his thoughts.
“Piss off,” Harry said without animosity and headed back to the bedroom for a shower-an ice cold one.
***
“I don’t like this.”
Harry kept his face impassive as Ingalls’ voice murmured in his ear. From his spot near the back wall with Ingalls and Summers standing shoulder to shoulder behind him, he idly surveyed the growing crowd in the Minister’s box and barely moved his mouth as he responded. “They’ve stepped up security a bit.”
“From two to six? Yeah, I’d say a bit. And these are the elite squad, not the trainees they had at the last three matches.”
With another casual scan of the crowd, Harry noted the additional bars on the Russian Enforcement Squad uniforms. He raised his glass of vodka to his mouth, but didn’t let the liquid pass his lips; a silent vanishing charm decreased the contents of the glass just enough to look convincing.
“They’ve changed the wards, too,” Ingalls continued, barely loud enough to hear. “Still can’t Apparate in, but now you can Disapparate.”
“Wonder what they’re expecting?”
“Or planning. Take this. It’s Disillusioned.”
At the tap on his hip, Harry dropped his left hand to his side to take the cool circle of metal Ingalls pressed into his palm. With an inward grimace, he slipped the tracking ring onto his pinkie finger.
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Ingalls growled. “Summers will go ballistic if we lose you again. Think of it as forestalling an international crisis.”
Harry smirked, but didn’t argue. For all his whinging and taking the mickey during their off hours, Summers was all business when they were on duty, especially in a fight. He still felt responsible for not watching Harry’s back in the first raid last autumn, and tended to overreact if he couldn’t keep track of both partners during a skirmish.
A disturbance at the box entrance drew their attention and Harry worked hard at fixing a pleasant look on his face.
“Harry! Is so good to see you again!”
At the booming greeting, Harry moved his glass into his left hand just in time for the Minister to grab his right hand and pump it vigorously as he pounded Harry’s shoulder with his other hand, slopping vodka everywhere.
“So! Our Katya, she is wonderful, yes? Another drink for our guest of honor!” he bellowed to the elves without waiting for Harry’s answer. “And where is our little sweetheart?”
“Oh, err, she, um… she went home to change,” Harry stammered as he tried to dry off his hand and accept another glass from the elf at his knee. “She should be here soon.”
A sly grin spread over the Minister’s face. “Ah, so you had long night, yes?”
Harry flushed and schooled his expression; every eye in the box was on him. “Er, yeah…”
The Minister’s thunderous laughter rattled the walls of the box as he slapped Harry on the back again. “You join me on front row when she comes, yes?”
Without waiting for an answer, the Minister lumbered off to greet the rest of the guests. Harry breathed a sigh of relief that the Minister had chosen to ignore last night’s confrontation and felt no need to stay by his side today.
Harry snuck a glance at his watch, wondering how late Katya would be, although he was glad to have a few minutes to prepare himself for what was to come. The icy shower and subsequent strategy discussion with Ingalls and Summers had put his head back in order, but he was determined to remain in control once she arrived. He couldn’t afford not to at this point.
Five minutes after the Quaffle was released, Katya blew in with a flourish-a vision in a sapphire hooded cloak trimmed in brilliant white embroidery that cast an ethereal glow on her face. Her passionate greeting for Harry ignited a ripple of laughter through the crowd and an explosion of camera flashes from the photographers in the boxes on either side. When she finally allowed him to breathe again, she led him to the two empty seats next to the Minister and dramatically removed her cloak to reveal a white cashmere turtleneck and soft sapphire trousers, both of which fit like a second skin with no unnatural bulges to indicate there was anything beneath them but what mother nature had given her. The open-front VIP box was considerably warmer than the frigid outside air, but not warm enough to feel comfortable without a cloak; her body responded immediately to the chill, making its own natural bumps and triggering a collective strangled male groan. She resolved the problem by using her wand to remove the cushioned arms between her chair and Harry’s so she could snuggle up next to him.
The Euphoria Elixir that Harry taken earlier had mostly worn off, but it had left a mellow afterglow that made it easier for him to smile and appear to respond with pleasure to all of the theatrics. He still wasn’t comfortable with the show, but he found that if he thought about it as part of his job, he could detach his feelings from his actions and follow Katya’s lead more easily.
With everything else that was happening, Harry had thought he would have a hard time concentrating on the match, but Katya proved to be an entertaining companion and he soon found himself relaxing as much as possible under the circumstances. Although he suspected she knew much more about the sport than she let on, he patiently answered her questions about strategy and laughed at her comical observations.
Meanwhile, in his detached mindset, he was on the alert, mentally cataloguing the position and movements of everyone else in the box, especially the security detail. Ingalls and Summers were still standing guard at the back of the box, but Harry wanted to be ready for whatever was coming.
As he listened to one of Katya’s anecdotes, he began to study her pale, perfectly manicured nails resting against the fuzz of black hair on the back of his hand. Without warning, a memory of short nails on freckled fingers threatened to ooze from its container, so he quickly shifted his eyes to the shimmering embroidery at the edge of Katya’s cloak draped over her legs. The elaborately detailed images of unicorns prancing in a snowy forest were done in coarse, pearly white thread that looked strangely familiar. He ran a thumb over the shifting scene and realized what he was looking at.
“Is this unicorn hair?”
She stopped in mid-word and looked at him in surprise before curiously eyeing the trim he was holding up to her. “Yes, I think so. Why?”
Harry blinked at her. “No reason… uh, just curious,” he mumbled and looked quickly away to hide the shock in his eyes. Unicorn hair was incredibly expensive and usually used only for wand cores and potions-at least as far as he knew. Hagrid was the only one he knew who seemed to have an endless supply to use for mundane things like tying off bandages for injured creatures. A cloak embroidered this heavily with such a rare substance must have cost nearly as much as the contents of his Gringott’s vault. Could she possibly make that much as a singer?
“It was a gift,” she said tentatively, ducking her head to try to catch his eye.
“Oh,” was all he could think of to say as an unexpected knot of revulsion formed in his chest; a gift that expensive was even worse. He turned his eyes back toward the pitch as if he were searching for the Snitch. In spite of his body’s undeniable attraction to her, he had no intention of getting involved with her (or anyone)-but part of him still wanted to trust her, to believe that she really was just a victim of the Ministry’s manipulations who was trying to help. His breakfast conversation with Ingalls began to replay itself in his head:
“You do realize they’ll use those pictures to try to blackmail you, right?”
“And how will they do that? I don’t care who sees them.”
Ingalls studied him a moment. “There’s no one who would be hurt if they saw them?”
Harry met his gaze steadily. “No one.”
With a look of blatant disbelief, Ingalls pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Just watch yourself, Harry. She’s a professional. You’re a babe in the woods to her. She’ll eat you alive if you give her the chance.”
Harry had thought the comment strange at the time, even though he didn’t question it-Katya did seem more experienced, but she was only twenty-two, just four years older. He’d simply put her experience down to having lived a different life with more opportunity to date. She’s a professional-seeing such an expensive “gift” drove Ingalls’ meaning home. He’d heard about such women, even seen a couple in the processing room at Auror Headquarters. He’d always thought of them as coming from the dregs of society, not holding the respect and adoration of the rich and famous-and definitely not being nice people who could make him want to trust them. He finally understood just what a master she was at this game and wondered how many others she’d played it with.
“Harry, you are all right?”
Her gentle concern pulled him from his thoughts and he gave her a forced smile as he scrambled to get back into character. “Yeah. Fine. I just-I know someone who takes care of unicorns. Seeing your cloak reminded me that I haven’t seen him in a while-I need to write to him.”
She smiled and asked about the action over the pitch-the Bulgarians were ahead of the Russians, 230-90. The match wasn’t out of reach, but it hadn’t been particularly exciting yet, either.
As Harry answered her questions, he began noting how her every move seemed calculated to put on the best show-the way she tipped her head close to his and hung on his every word; the way she stroked his knee or played with his fingers; the way she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger and kept her lips moist with a flick of her pink tongue. He wondered again who was manipulating whom… and why.
A glint of gold flashed in front of him and zoomed toward the Russian goal. Harry jumped to his feet. “The Snitch!”
Krum and Volkevich flattened against their brooms as the crowd rose to scream encouragement to their favorite. The two Seekers flew neck-and-neck, jostling each other as they weaved and dived through players and Bludgers creating small flurries in the rapidly falling snow.
Katya clung to Harry’s arm, bouncing on the balls of her feet and, to his surprise, encouraging Krum. When the pair of brooms went into a steep dive at top speed, she gasped and buried her face in Harry’s shoulder, not daring to look up again until he joined the cheers when the Seekers pulled out inches from the ground and tiny gold wings beat frantically on either side of Krum’s fist. She threw herself into Harry’s arms in celebration. In the excitement of the moment, he forgot his disgust and wrapped her close.
The squeeze of Apparition took him by surprise.
Chapter 26
Prologue
Chapter 25/60: Learning to Play the Game
Author:
serendipity_50
Pairings: H/G, R/Hr
Warnings: Het sex, mild profanity, ANGST
Word Count this chapter: about 6,400
Era: Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Author's Notes: Thanks for your patience. I had written a monster chapter with 11,000 words -- it felt like giving birth without an epidural or a breathing coach and the labor went on for days and days (probably because I can't stand the thought of Harry with someone besides Ginny, but he is human...). Anyway, the joke's on me because LJ won't let me post the whole thing. HA! So... I've split it into two chapters (the cliffie jumped up and down and waved at me) -- Howler wards are in place -- but I've included an extra treat. As always, thanks to Ashwinder and Minisinoo for their invaluable input. Comments (even critical ones) are encouraged, but they probably won't change the direction this story is taking.
Story Summary: Long-distance relationships are hard under normal circumstances, but Harry and Ginny don’t have the luxury of living normal lives. Their relationship is put to the test when Ginny returns to school and Harry stays behind to continue his Auror training. Ginny realizes her greatest challenge may be in coming to terms with Harry’s fame and dangerous line of work and deciding if she can make the sacrifices needed to be part of his life.
Chapter Summary: The cat-and-mouse game continues as Harry struggles for control.
~~~~~~~~~~
“They will be watching,” Katya whispered softly into Harry’s ear. “We must give them good show, yes?”
His brain took a moment to catch up when she drew him down for a kiss; before he realized what had happened, his mouth was open to the exploration of her warm lips and dancing tongue. He started to pull away, but she held him in place, winding her fingers into his hair and pressing her hips against his growing response, begging him for more with a sultry purr.
He’d gone too long without a heart beating next to his, the warmth of another body wrapped around him, and he was drawn to her like a frozen man to a crackling hearth. Four months of pent up need came crashing in on him and his defenses gave way.
His body took over and all thought ceased.
Katya trailed a hand down his chest and under his robes to stroke his back through his shirt. Of their own accord, his hands began moving, too-the one still holding his wand drifted down to the swell of her bum and pulled her more firmly into his erection; the other traced her voluptuous curves to cup her breast and thumb a taut nipple. As far as he could tell, nothing lay between his hands and her skin but a single silky layer of pale blue velvet. She moaned into him and he clutched her more tightly, every nerve ending focused on finding release for the throbbing pressure between them.
Through the haze of desire, his mind called up a vision of rose-dotted skin and blazing brown eyes, and suddenly nothing felt right: the curves against his body didn’t fit properly-the breast was too heavy, the hips too full-and the scent hovering in the air was too pungent, not the light, sweet tang he craved. The realization of what he was doing hit him like a Bludger.
Katya stumbled forward when he released her without warning. With a hand at her elbow to steady her, he drew a ragged breath and took another step backward as she moved to embrace him again. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know this girl-this woman-and he sure as hell didn’t trust her yet. Yes, he’d accepted the role of besotted lover and he’d have to publicly play along until he could work out what she wanted and find out what she knew. But did that really mean he had to keep up the act in private?
“Something is wrong?” She looked honestly puzzled and perhaps a bit hurt.
Willing his body into control, Harry squelched the twinge of guilt that rose in his chest and forced a smile. “I think we should probably go back in… maybe dance or something… before things get-er-out of hand.”
She lowered her lashes coyly. “But I do not mind if things… get out of hand. I am thinking that you had them well in hand.”
As his face flamed, she reached for him again, but he fended off the motion by lacing his fingers through hers. “I mean that maybe we should move the show inside… for a bigger audience.”
At her brilliant smile, he realized what he’d said and wished that he could go ahead and burst into flame to end the misery. She showed no mercy at his distress. “Yes, would be… entertaining, to act so in there.”
“No! No, I meant that we should dance… let people see us together… but not-not like that…” Harry cursed his red face and stammering tongue. Smooth, Potter, real smooth. Merlin, he wasn’t cut out for this sort of game.
She tiptoed and brushed her lips lightly against his. “Is okay, Harry. Perhaps later we continue, hmmm?”
Harry looked away and led her to the door. He had no intention of finishing what they’d started, but he wasn’t sure if telling her so would ruin his chances of finding out what she knew about Dolohov-if she even knew anything. Maybe sex was all she wanted and she was only dangling the potential for information as bait. Or maybe she was the bait that someone else was using. Whatever or whoever she was, all he wanted from her was answers.
***
Harry slumped back onto the sofa and closed his eyes, relieved that the stressful evening was finally over. He’d take a good wizard battle over this con game any day of the week.
After the balcony scene, they’d danced for about an hour as Harry had tried in vain to get some answers. She had refused to talk about Dolohov for fear of being overheard-or so she’d said.
His relief had been palpable when the first guests began leaving, signaling that he could make his escape without creating an international crisis. Of course his role-playing with Katya on the dance floor had given them a good excuse to leave early-at least the knowing smiles from the other guests had seemed to indicate that their act was believable. Harry had been amazed that he’d pulled it off.
With everyone openly watching them, he had decided that the best course in playing his part was to follow Katya’s lead-she had seemed to know what she was doing; he’d felt like the court jester. Their interlude on the balcony had dislodged the rigid control he usually held over his mind, and Katya’s warm, firm body moving against his had kept his blood stirred, making it impossible to concentrate on their charade as he worked to restrain the memories and feelings he thought he’d locked away forever. The constant conflict in his head had stretched his deception skills to the limit.
Every time he’d tried to cast an adoring look into those blue eyes, even though it wasn’t real, he’d felt like he was betraying Ginny. Then, the anger would take over and he’d remember that he had every right to be with any woman he wanted. But, no matter how his body responded to her, he didn’t really want Katya. He didn’t trust her, but he hated that he was taking advantage of her just to further his mission, even if she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she had encouraged him to do so; some of the things she’d whispered to him had made it nearly impossible to keep dancing.
The hotel suite door opened.
“What are you doing here?” Harry raised his head to find Summers, frozen in the act of yanking off his tie and unbuttoning his collar, gaping at him. “No, I mean, what are you doing here.”
“Well, I wasn’t going back to her place. For all I know, she’s got a dozen of Dolohov’s thugs waiting there.”
Summers rolled his eyes. “So… what? You just sent her home?”
“No, she’s in there.” Harry cocked his head toward the room he and Summers had been sharing.
The moment they’d closed themselves into the suite, Katya had shed her seductress persona like a too-warm cloak. Although she still wouldn’t give him any answers, she did quietly offer to keep the promises she’d made earlier-but she’d seemed almost relieved when he had politely declined. And rather than arguing about being locked in, as he’d expected, she’d given him a look that could only be described as grateful.
But Harry didn’t feel like explaining that to Summers, and patted the couch. “I’ll stay here. I moved your bed in with Ingalls.”
Ignoring Summers’ indignant sputtering about mental stability and loud snoring, Ingalls gave Harry a serious look. “So what did you find out?”
“Nothing,” Harry muttered in irritation. “She wants me to go with her to meet someone tomorrow.”
“Are you going? You’ll need backup,” Ingalls said. “Who is it? Where?”
“Dunno. She won’t say. Just says that it’s better if I hear the story from the person who knows it best.” Harry shook his head in wonder. “That scene on the balcony was totally out of the blue. I have no idea why she covered for me like that… or what she wants in return.”
“You don’t know what she wants? Are you barmy?” Summers groaned as he stared with longing at the closed bedroom door and absently ran a hand over the front of his trousers. His voice took on a pleading tone. “Oh, give me some Polyjuice. I’ll give her what she wants.”
“Shut it, you wanker.” Harry was growing impatient with Summers’ one-track mind. “She gathers information for the Ministry. For her to defy them like this, she wants more than a friendly poke.”
“Harry’s right,” Ingalls said. “Something’s off about this. I don’t like it. But it’s a good thing you brought her here. They’ll be watching-here and at her place. If you’d sent her home alone, the game would be up. Is she locked in?”
“Yeah. My strongest alarms are set and I’ll be on watch out here. She should be okay.”
“But I still don’t understand why you’re out here.” Summers said. “You could be watching her in there. In your bed. Naked.”
Harry ran a hand through his already-ruffled hair and groaned in exasperation. “Some things are more important than sex.”
Summers looked skeptical. “Well, maybe… but there’s no reason you can’t have sex, too. Think about what you’re doing! I can’t believe you’re just going to pass that up!”
Harry’s irritation finally rose to the surface. “Just because you’ll shag anything in a skirt, doesn’t mean everyone wants to!”
Summers threw his arms into the air, his frustration clear. “She was practically begging you for it. It doesn’t have to be a lifetime commitment, you know.”
Harry jumped from the couch, fists balled. “I said piss off! If I wanted to do it, I’d do it, but it would only remind me of things I can’t have, so there’s no point.” He clamped his mouth shut, furious that he’d let his exhaustion rule his emotions and make him say more than he’d intended.
Ingalls shoved Summers toward the bedroom. “Go to bed.” He gave Harry an approving look and jutted his chin at Summers. “Ignore him. He’s an idiot. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Harry nodded gratefully as Summers grumbled off down the hall.
Hours passed as Harry stared with unseeing eyes into the fire, working to put his carefully compartmentalized brain back in order. Thoughts of Ginny fought valiantly for their freedom, taking the battle into the hollow of his chest and stirring up the longing for love and family he had worked so hard to suppress. God, he missed her… and Ron and Hermione and all of the family he’d come to think of as his own. The sudden yearning left him feeling empty, desolate. He couldn’t quite bring himself to hope that Ginny was happy with Dean, but he couldn’t hold on to the anger any longer either. Not when he missed her so much. Not when he loved her so much it hurt.
From years of experience, he knew that dwelling on what he couldn’t have was useless. But, like scabs on a wound that never heals, he pulled and poked at the memories and yearnings for a bit anyway just to feel the pain… just to feel anything besides the emptiness. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he angrily jammed the feelings back into their box and nailed the lid down. He simply wasn’t meant to have a family-he had to accept it and move on.
The distant rumble of Ingalls’ snoring got louder and then softer again as the door to the bedroom opened and closed. Harry remained still, listening to Summers pad to the dining room, apparently, by the sounds that followed, for something to drink from the magically chilled cupboard under the sideboard. As he came back through, Summers stopped at the doorway to the hall.
“You ’wake?” he whispered.
Harry waited several beats before answering with a sigh. “Yeah.”
“I think he’s louder than usual. Even the silencing charms aren’t helping tonight.”
Harry smiled into the dark. They’d had to resort to some creative spell casting to handle the problem when they were using the tent. “Want some help?”
“Nah. I’ll use ear plugs.” A moment passed before Summers spoke again. “Hey, um, about earlier. I didn’t mean to-”
Harry waved his hand wearily. “Forget it. You’re probably right. I’m completely mental.”
The silence lengthened and Harry thought for a moment that Summers had left. When he spoke again, his voice was tentative. “You know… it might help you to, you know, move on… maybe not her, but somebody… it wouldn’t have to be permanent… they don’t all want a commitment, you know-”
“You got any family?” Harry interrupted quietly, not taking his eyes from the fire.
The question seemed to surprise Summers. “Yeah… Mum and Dad. Three older brothers. Why?”
“You see them much?”
“Usually just at the holidays.”
“You keep in touch, though, right?”
Summers’ voice grew annoyed. “A bit. What are you on about?”
Harry took his time answering, swallowing hard to be sure his voice sounded normal when he finally spoke. “Just don’t take them for granted, yeah? Write a letter to your mother.”
Harry didn’t look to see Summers’ reaction and wasn’t surprised when, eventually, the bedroom door opened and closed again, leaving behind a heavy silence.
***
“Sorry, mate, but you just don’t look like a man who’s spent the night living out all of his fantasies with the ‘sveethardt ov vizarding Rrroosha!’”
Summers cackled merrily as Harry cast a rude gesture and a bleary-eyed glare over the rim of his coffee mug. He’d had a long night, managing to doze only lightly as his brain alternately battled with thoughts of Ginny and tried decide which of Katya’s personalities to believe-the sultry seductress or the grateful victim.
“He’s right.” Ingalls wasn’t taking the mickey, but Harry glared at him, too. “Are you going to play this through, or do we need to get out now?”
Harry set his mug down and ran his fingers under his glasses with a heavy sigh of resignation. “I guess we need to play it through. She went way out on a limb for me last night. Even if she doesn’t know anything, if we disappear now, I think she’ll… suffer.”
Ingalls nodded in acceptance and tossed something at him. “Drink this, then.”
On reflex, Harry snatched the small bottle from the air and rolled it in his fingers. “What is it?”
“Euphoria Elixir. It’ll help you look the part, or at least look more relaxed, but it won’t muddle your brain. You need to keep your wits about you.”
Harry scowled at the sunshine yellow liquid. He didn’t want to look the part. He didn’t want to play the part. Katya seemed to be making all of the rules for this game and he felt totally out of his depth. He wasn’t convinced that she knew anything, but he couldn’t just walk away at this point-and it angered him that his obsession for Dolohov would drive him to such lengths. But obsessed he was, so he was stuck trying to look like a man smitten by a woman he didn’t trust. Yeah, he’d definitely need to keep his wits sharp.
Summers suddenly gasped, choking on a mouthful of breakfast that went down the wrong passage as he pointed across the room. Harry jumped from his chair, wand drawn, ready to do battle, only to find Katya hovering in the bedroom doorway-wearing, apparently, nothing but Harry’s dress shirt with only the bottom three buttons fastened. It hung nearly to her knees and covered everything it should, but somehow she managed to look sexier than any of the naked witches in the twins’ secret magazine stash. The seductress was back.
Harry cursed the part of his body that remembered too quickly what hers had felt like rubbing against it; he dodged behind Summers to hide what his well-worn flannel pyjama bottoms and too-short t-shirt had no hope of concealing. If he’d had any idea she would borrow his shirt like that, he’d never have banished it back to the wardrobe in her-his-room after he’d changed in the other bathroom last night.
She watched Summers with a small crease of worry between her brows until Ingalls had whacked him on the back enough that he began to breathe again, then she turned her gaze to Harry. “I may speak with you for a moment, please?”
Nothing came out when Harry tried to answer, so he nodded.
She took a step backward and held out her hand. “Alone? Please?”
Face flaming, Harry tucked his wand back into his pocket and avoided Summers’ and Ingalls’ eyes as he followed her into the bedroom. He leaned back against the closed door, keeping his hand on the knob for ready escape, but she had reverted back to frightened innocent and stood hesitantly at the end of the bed with her arms wrapped protectively around herself. Harry scowled viciously as he concentrated on keeping his eyes on her face.
“You are angry with me?” Her eyes were wide with uncertainty and… was that fear?
“No!” It came out with more force than he intended. He took a deep breath and relaxed his face with an effort. “No. I just-”
She was next to him in the space of heartbeat, but held herself away and motioned for him to lean over so she could whisper into his ear. “I wish not to speak aloud. They will hear.”
He suddenly understood the fear-or at least her act-and spoke quietly next to her ear. “No, it’s okay. We’ve cast protection charms…”
Her hair brushed his cheek as she shook her head and lowered her voice so much that he had to lean closer and strain to hear. Even without touching, he could tell she was trembling. “We cannot give them reason-the Commander, he will find… what is saying?… false witnesses… that we were not- We must give evidence we are… together. After Quidditch match, I take you to meet someone… someone who know Dolohov as child. But they must not suspect. Is important to life. You will help me? Please?”
He pulled back to look into her pleading eyes. Did she really mean that someone might die? The fear on her face looked real-she appeared to be truly terrified of being caught in the lie she’d told… for him. For whatever reason, she’d saved his neck last night-probably Summers’ and Ingalls’ necks as well. He wouldn’t have gone quietly if the Russians had tried to take him and, no doubt, someone would have got hurt, not to mention the international scandal it would have triggered. He’d made the decision on his own to break into the Ministry, but now he had three people who would be going down with him if the truth were discovered. And she would probably suffer the worst of it.
“I promise, when is safe, I tell everything.” Her voice was soft, but intense. “Please, be certain of me in this. I mean no harm. We want same end.”
He searched those impossibly blue eyes for anything that would give away her game. But hadn’t he already decided to see it through? If he was going to do this, what was the point in holding back?
“What do we need to do?” he asked, resigned to the task.
She closed her eyes and slumped in relief for a moment before looking back up at him. “They will be watching-at window. We must give another show. They-” She hesitated, then watched warily for his response as she continued. “They will take pictures.”
Oh, great! Pictures. His favorite thing. She sounded like she was working from a script that, no doubt, included leaking the photos to the press. With a grimace, he pushed the thought away-the press was an annoyance he’d learned to live with and he had more important matters to attend to right now. Huffing out a determined breath, he nodded his agreement and steeled himself for what was ahead, waiting stiffly for her to take the lead.
She pulled back and studied him for a moment; a sad look washed over her face. “Is so terrible to kiss me?”
Harry flushed and looked away. “No, I-” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence; he certainly wasn’t going to admit that he’d only ever been with one girl, not when she was so obviously experienced in these matters… and he should probably explore that matter further, but he pushed the notion away for now and concentrated on how to look like less of a fool. Noticing the forgotten potion bottle in his hand, he watched it roll back and forth in his palm so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “I’m sorry… I’m a bit out of sorts… didn’t sleep well last night.” He finally looked at her and held up the bottle. “I think this will help.”
He pulled the cork and threw the contents back before he could change his mind. Resting his head against the door, he waited for the rush of adrenaline and endorphins to take effect-the same feeling that he had got catching the Snitch in a tight match or watching Voldemort fall for the final time… or his first time in the Room with-NO! He couldn’t let that thought take form again.
The potion worked its magic quickly; he could feel his body relaxing in the giddy thrill of euphoria. Apparently, his face showed it, too, because Katya smiled.
She poked a finger through a rip in his shirt to tickle his ribs and smirked when he jerked away. “I may change this?” she whispered.
Harry looked at her in surprise. “Change what?”
She gave the rip a little tug and it opened a bit further. “These clothes. Is not very… um, romantic.”
He surveyed his pyjamas with fresh eyes and flushed. Wearing something “romantic” to bed had never crossed his mind-comfort was the main consideration-and the last time he’d found himself in a romantic situation like this, he hadn’t worn anything at all (he shut that thought down quickly). Katya was right. The red t-shirt and red-and-gold plaid flannel bottoms had fit perfectly well when Mrs. Weasley had got them for him fifth year, but he’d long since grown too tall for them and the fabric was now almost transparent and frayed at the bottoms into a wild mane of tangled thread.
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “I guess that would be a good idea.”
She retrieved her wand from the night table and flicked it at him, leaving him shirtless and transfiguring his pyjama bottoms into black silk-which did even less to hide the embarrassing bulge than the worn flannel had. Her pupils dilated as she slowly caressed his body with her eyes-from the chills that ran across his skin, she might as well have used her fingers. But she made no comment, only held out her hand in invitation as she backed toward the window.
Swallowing hard, he followed. Katya turned to face the window, pulling Harry’s arms around her waist from behind and hugging them to her. He pressed a cheek against her hair, carefully keeping his hands away from dangerous places and a bit of space between their lower bodies-the elixir might have him on an unnatural high, but his mind was clear and he intended to stay in control this time.
Framed in the window, they watched the snowflakes floating onto the terrace garden, turning the magical flowers into sugarcoated candy. Anyone taking a picture would be able to identify them both easily. After a few moments, she turned in his arms. His stomach flipped and he drew in a steadying breath as she twined her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers.
“You are okay?” she whispered against his mouth.
He could taste something sweet on her breath and suddenly realized that he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet. As he started to pull back, she pushed a hand into his hair and stood up on tiptoes to suck on his bottom lip. The unexpected move shifted his hand down from the small of her back onto her firm round bottom; his body responded on its own, pulling her tightly against him. So much for staying in control. Some small part of his mind held on, but knowing what they were trying to accomplish, he went with the flow, meeting her tongue with his, burying a fist in her hair, even as he eased his other hand into more neutral territory. The kiss seemed to last forever, but it was almost more comforting than passionate. When she broke the contact, Harry was engulfed with a sense of loss, even though she remained wrapped in his arms, dragging her nails in light circles over his scalp. He closed his eyes and leaned into the sensation, resisting the urge to pant with pleasure like an overgrown puppy.
“I must go now. To get ready for Quidditch match.” She stretched up for another soft kiss, then disentangled herself from him. He told himself that his reluctance to let go was all part of the act.
She stepped back into her strappy high heels, shrunk her ball gown and put it into her cloak pocket, then slipped the cloak on over his shirt. His body overheated at the thought that she was going to go out in public like that, even if no one else would know.
She was halfway through the blessedly empty dining room, heading down to the lobby Apparition point, before he remembered his manners and scrambled to catch her up at the main door to the suite. “I should walk you down.”
“Is no need” She ran an appreciative glance down him. “You are not dressed.”
He flamed like a torch and ran a nervous hand over the scattering of dark hair on his chest. “Oh-ah, yeah. Guess not.”
She smiled and put a gentle hand on his cheek. “You are good man, Harry Potter. Thank you.” The words were said with such intense emotion that he couldn’t remember how to breathe for a moment, much less come up with a response. “I see you at Quidditch match.”
Harry nodded, feeling dazed. “Yeah. At the match.”
He stood for several moments staring at the closed door, wondering how he’d forgotten his resolve to stay in control. Maybe it was another potion or some sort of spell she’d cast when she’d transfigured his clothes? He felt like he was trying to hang onto a bewitched broom, never knowing which way she was going to toss him next.
“Now, that looks like a man who’s been living his fantasies.” Summers’ voice, wistful but not taunting, jerked Harry from his thoughts.
“Piss off,” Harry said without animosity and headed back to the bedroom for a shower-an ice cold one.
***
“I don’t like this.”
Harry kept his face impassive as Ingalls’ voice murmured in his ear. From his spot near the back wall with Ingalls and Summers standing shoulder to shoulder behind him, he idly surveyed the growing crowd in the Minister’s box and barely moved his mouth as he responded. “They’ve stepped up security a bit.”
“From two to six? Yeah, I’d say a bit. And these are the elite squad, not the trainees they had at the last three matches.”
With another casual scan of the crowd, Harry noted the additional bars on the Russian Enforcement Squad uniforms. He raised his glass of vodka to his mouth, but didn’t let the liquid pass his lips; a silent vanishing charm decreased the contents of the glass just enough to look convincing.
“They’ve changed the wards, too,” Ingalls continued, barely loud enough to hear. “Still can’t Apparate in, but now you can Disapparate.”
“Wonder what they’re expecting?”
“Or planning. Take this. It’s Disillusioned.”
At the tap on his hip, Harry dropped his left hand to his side to take the cool circle of metal Ingalls pressed into his palm. With an inward grimace, he slipped the tracking ring onto his pinkie finger.
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Ingalls growled. “Summers will go ballistic if we lose you again. Think of it as forestalling an international crisis.”
Harry smirked, but didn’t argue. For all his whinging and taking the mickey during their off hours, Summers was all business when they were on duty, especially in a fight. He still felt responsible for not watching Harry’s back in the first raid last autumn, and tended to overreact if he couldn’t keep track of both partners during a skirmish.
A disturbance at the box entrance drew their attention and Harry worked hard at fixing a pleasant look on his face.
“Harry! Is so good to see you again!”
At the booming greeting, Harry moved his glass into his left hand just in time for the Minister to grab his right hand and pump it vigorously as he pounded Harry’s shoulder with his other hand, slopping vodka everywhere.
“So! Our Katya, she is wonderful, yes? Another drink for our guest of honor!” he bellowed to the elves without waiting for Harry’s answer. “And where is our little sweetheart?”
“Oh, err, she, um… she went home to change,” Harry stammered as he tried to dry off his hand and accept another glass from the elf at his knee. “She should be here soon.”
A sly grin spread over the Minister’s face. “Ah, so you had long night, yes?”
Harry flushed and schooled his expression; every eye in the box was on him. “Er, yeah…”
The Minister’s thunderous laughter rattled the walls of the box as he slapped Harry on the back again. “You join me on front row when she comes, yes?”
Without waiting for an answer, the Minister lumbered off to greet the rest of the guests. Harry breathed a sigh of relief that the Minister had chosen to ignore last night’s confrontation and felt no need to stay by his side today.
Harry snuck a glance at his watch, wondering how late Katya would be, although he was glad to have a few minutes to prepare himself for what was to come. The icy shower and subsequent strategy discussion with Ingalls and Summers had put his head back in order, but he was determined to remain in control once she arrived. He couldn’t afford not to at this point.
Five minutes after the Quaffle was released, Katya blew in with a flourish-a vision in a sapphire hooded cloak trimmed in brilliant white embroidery that cast an ethereal glow on her face. Her passionate greeting for Harry ignited a ripple of laughter through the crowd and an explosion of camera flashes from the photographers in the boxes on either side. When she finally allowed him to breathe again, she led him to the two empty seats next to the Minister and dramatically removed her cloak to reveal a white cashmere turtleneck and soft sapphire trousers, both of which fit like a second skin with no unnatural bulges to indicate there was anything beneath them but what mother nature had given her. The open-front VIP box was considerably warmer than the frigid outside air, but not warm enough to feel comfortable without a cloak; her body responded immediately to the chill, making its own natural bumps and triggering a collective strangled male groan. She resolved the problem by using her wand to remove the cushioned arms between her chair and Harry’s so she could snuggle up next to him.
The Euphoria Elixir that Harry taken earlier had mostly worn off, but it had left a mellow afterglow that made it easier for him to smile and appear to respond with pleasure to all of the theatrics. He still wasn’t comfortable with the show, but he found that if he thought about it as part of his job, he could detach his feelings from his actions and follow Katya’s lead more easily.
With everything else that was happening, Harry had thought he would have a hard time concentrating on the match, but Katya proved to be an entertaining companion and he soon found himself relaxing as much as possible under the circumstances. Although he suspected she knew much more about the sport than she let on, he patiently answered her questions about strategy and laughed at her comical observations.
Meanwhile, in his detached mindset, he was on the alert, mentally cataloguing the position and movements of everyone else in the box, especially the security detail. Ingalls and Summers were still standing guard at the back of the box, but Harry wanted to be ready for whatever was coming.
As he listened to one of Katya’s anecdotes, he began to study her pale, perfectly manicured nails resting against the fuzz of black hair on the back of his hand. Without warning, a memory of short nails on freckled fingers threatened to ooze from its container, so he quickly shifted his eyes to the shimmering embroidery at the edge of Katya’s cloak draped over her legs. The elaborately detailed images of unicorns prancing in a snowy forest were done in coarse, pearly white thread that looked strangely familiar. He ran a thumb over the shifting scene and realized what he was looking at.
“Is this unicorn hair?”
She stopped in mid-word and looked at him in surprise before curiously eyeing the trim he was holding up to her. “Yes, I think so. Why?”
Harry blinked at her. “No reason… uh, just curious,” he mumbled and looked quickly away to hide the shock in his eyes. Unicorn hair was incredibly expensive and usually used only for wand cores and potions-at least as far as he knew. Hagrid was the only one he knew who seemed to have an endless supply to use for mundane things like tying off bandages for injured creatures. A cloak embroidered this heavily with such a rare substance must have cost nearly as much as the contents of his Gringott’s vault. Could she possibly make that much as a singer?
“It was a gift,” she said tentatively, ducking her head to try to catch his eye.
“Oh,” was all he could think of to say as an unexpected knot of revulsion formed in his chest; a gift that expensive was even worse. He turned his eyes back toward the pitch as if he were searching for the Snitch. In spite of his body’s undeniable attraction to her, he had no intention of getting involved with her (or anyone)-but part of him still wanted to trust her, to believe that she really was just a victim of the Ministry’s manipulations who was trying to help. His breakfast conversation with Ingalls began to replay itself in his head:
“You do realize they’ll use those pictures to try to blackmail you, right?”
“And how will they do that? I don’t care who sees them.”
Ingalls studied him a moment. “There’s no one who would be hurt if they saw them?”
Harry met his gaze steadily. “No one.”
With a look of blatant disbelief, Ingalls pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Just watch yourself, Harry. She’s a professional. You’re a babe in the woods to her. She’ll eat you alive if you give her the chance.”
Harry had thought the comment strange at the time, even though he didn’t question it-Katya did seem more experienced, but she was only twenty-two, just four years older. He’d simply put her experience down to having lived a different life with more opportunity to date. She’s a professional-seeing such an expensive “gift” drove Ingalls’ meaning home. He’d heard about such women, even seen a couple in the processing room at Auror Headquarters. He’d always thought of them as coming from the dregs of society, not holding the respect and adoration of the rich and famous-and definitely not being nice people who could make him want to trust them. He finally understood just what a master she was at this game and wondered how many others she’d played it with.
“Harry, you are all right?”
Her gentle concern pulled him from his thoughts and he gave her a forced smile as he scrambled to get back into character. “Yeah. Fine. I just-I know someone who takes care of unicorns. Seeing your cloak reminded me that I haven’t seen him in a while-I need to write to him.”
She smiled and asked about the action over the pitch-the Bulgarians were ahead of the Russians, 230-90. The match wasn’t out of reach, but it hadn’t been particularly exciting yet, either.
As Harry answered her questions, he began noting how her every move seemed calculated to put on the best show-the way she tipped her head close to his and hung on his every word; the way she stroked his knee or played with his fingers; the way she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger and kept her lips moist with a flick of her pink tongue. He wondered again who was manipulating whom… and why.
A glint of gold flashed in front of him and zoomed toward the Russian goal. Harry jumped to his feet. “The Snitch!”
Krum and Volkevich flattened against their brooms as the crowd rose to scream encouragement to their favorite. The two Seekers flew neck-and-neck, jostling each other as they weaved and dived through players and Bludgers creating small flurries in the rapidly falling snow.
Katya clung to Harry’s arm, bouncing on the balls of her feet and, to his surprise, encouraging Krum. When the pair of brooms went into a steep dive at top speed, she gasped and buried her face in Harry’s shoulder, not daring to look up again until he joined the cheers when the Seekers pulled out inches from the ground and tiny gold wings beat frantically on either side of Krum’s fist. She threw herself into Harry’s arms in celebration. In the excitement of the moment, he forgot his disgust and wrapped her close.
The squeeze of Apparition took him by surprise.
Chapter 26
Prologue