Harry Potter: Love, Marriage, Dating, Children, Dating (Again) (2/2)
Title: Love, Marriage, Dating, Children, Dating (Again) (2/2)
Author: schmevil
Characters: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny
Summary: Ron consults a self-help manual, in an effort to 'reignite the spark'.
Word Count: 12,800
Author's Notes: Epilogue-compliant, along with some creative extrapolations of canon and interviews. Don't forget to read the footnotes!
Written for eruditefics for weasleyfest. Thanks to outlawpoet and tammylee for betaing.
PART ONE
4. Inform friends, family and colleagues that you will be unavailable for the duration of said outing.
"You know," said Harry. "I don't think you really need to tell Bill and Fleur that you'll be unavailable Friday night."
"Don't say that Harry, you might jinx us."
"I'm not going to jinx you."
"You're the one who kept saying that 'things come up.'"
"I doubt anything involving your brother, who is in France, will come up." Harry peered at the stack of scrolls that Ron was tying one by one, to Ministry dispatch owls. "Are you owling Charlie?"
"Yup."
"Do you even know where he is?"
"Last I heard, the Amazon." Harry eyed him skeptically. "I just want to be sure. Harry, you know my brothers."
"I think you're making too big a deal of this. It's just dinner and a movie."
"It's not just dinner and a movie. It's date night." Their first date night in over a year and a half.
"What is it with you and date night?" Ron glared at him. "Seriously. I mean, Ginny and I still go out. Sometimes. But it's not this huge thing."
"The last time you and Ginny went out to something that wasn't work related, was before Rose was born."
"Really? No." Harry scratched his head. Stared out the window. Visibly counted backwards. "My god, you're right."
"See?"
"Yeah but Ginny and I still-" Ron raised a hand in warning. "Right. I don't think we need that kind of thing. You know. Romance. Wait, has Ginny said something?"
"You'd be better off asking Hermione, mate. Hand me that last scroll."
"Who's this one for?"
"Luna. Just in case." He paused. The owl peered down at him from its perch, impatient to be off on a mission. The Ministry owls were almost creepily over eager. "Where is Luna?"
"Sweden. There was another snorkack sighting."
"Didn't she decide they were a myth?"
"Yes, but apparently there's credible evidence this time."
"Well, then." Ron grinned, and motioned to the owl to come down. "Luna Lovegood," he told the owl. "Sweden." The owl bobbed his head, took two small steps and dropped off of his perch. A few strong flaps of his wings and he was out the window; off to ensure that Ron and Hermione would not be interrupted with bulletins on the mating habits of crumple-horned snorkacks.
Ron sighed happily, flush with the satisfaction of a job well-done, and the successful abuse of Ministry resources. The Owlery was all but empty. Five owls watched Ron and Harry, looking disturbingly forlorn.
"You don't have any messages to send, do you?"
"No. Why?"
Ron nodded at the five owls, huddling in the quickly darkening Owlery. "They look sort of... sad."
"Well, maybe they'll perk up once the sun has set. Speaking of which, are you done? I'd like to get home before it turns to Thursday."
"Done. Sorry guys." He shrugged at the owls, whose wings collectively drooped. "Are you still using that potion?"
Harry ran a hand over his hair. "Yeah, why? Ginny seems to like it."
"No reason," said Ron. Now was not the time to tell Harry that the sheen had graduated to sparkling in the evening light. The right moment would present itself.
Harry eyed him suspiciously, but let it go. "You did remember to tell the boss you can't be on call, Friday night, right?"
"Yup. He said it's not a problem."
5. Clear inbox of all pressing matters. If necessary, hide some of it.
Ron cracked his knuckles, eying his teetering outbox with satisfaction. His inbox was gloriously empty, for the first time in three years. He wasn't taking any chances. Granted, not everything from his inbox had made it into his outbox. There were stacks of scrolls and memos and incomplete triplicate forms stuffed into every drawer. That was why, before he left for the night, he was locking his desk up with the best security charms Charlie had taught him, and hoping for the best.
"All right boys, listen up!" The boss banged his wand on the whiteboard. Using an amplification charm would be more effective at getting the unit's attention, but Ron suspected he just liked to smash things. The boss had gone through six desk chairs this year alone. Either he loved to smash things, or he was short on kindling. Regardless, Ron got up from his desk and joined the huddle of cowering Aurors. You didn't question the boss. *
"Mira, Rogers." He pointed to the Aurors in question with his wand. The rest of the unit struggled against the urge to duck and cover. "You're following up on the kraken sighting."
"Yes sir!" they said together.
"Make sure you don't cock this one up."
"Yes sir," they said, with a marked drop in enthusiasm.
"Shipley!" he hollered. Shipley, good man that he was, stood up immediately. The boss' wand settled on him. "You're on the werewolf, thing. Take Potter with you."
"But sir-"
"Take. Potter. With. You." Shipley darted a surreptitious look at Harry, who equally surreptitiously, shrugged in response.
"Yes sir!"
"Right. Weasley here," he pointed. Ron struggled not to shiver under the attention of the wand. "Has the night off. Which means the rest of you idiots are on call." He smiled nastily, and as one, they obligingly groaned. The boss liked his Aurors miserable, and preferably groaning about it.
Once the boss had stormed out of earshot, Ron tried to make a halfhearted apology.
"Don't be sorry, mate", said Mira. "Just don't be a dick when it's my turn for time off."
Ron smiled at her. "Wouldn't think of it."
The unit retreated to their desks and except for those who were on assignment that night proceeded to lock up. To his usual (already paranoid, as far as he was concerned) mandatory charms, he added every painful security charm he could think of. Charlie had taught him this Egyptian curse that lopped off the head of anyone who tried to open the cursed object. Ron thought it over for a few seconds, then added it. It wasn't like anyone would really need to get into his desk tonight. Anyone with half a brain would be put off by the third layer of hexes. And no way was he getting called back to the office over a stray memo.
Harry settled in, leaning against the cubicle divider that stood between their cells. "So, the big night has arrived."
"Yeah. Sorry he's called you up for tonight."
"It's alright. Not your fault the boss thinks Shipley's a moron."
"Not even Shipley's fault, really," said Ron. The boss thought everyone was a moron, Harry and Ron included.
"Anyway, Ginny's working from home this week, so she'll be able to watch James."
"Still. I thought it was the ever exciting Potter Pizza Night."
"That it was. Hopefully Ginny will save me a slice." Harry frowned. "Listen, Ron." He ducked his head. Under the harsh overhead lights, his hair was damn near blinding. Ron shaded his eyes with a hand, trying to make it look casual. The potion was actually getting worse.
"Yes Harry?"
Harry did a quick threat assessment of the office. To anyone else it would look like a casual glance or three, but Ron was a trained Auror. He also caught the faint hint of desperation his friend was giving off. "D'you think I could borrow that book of yours?"
"Which book?"
"You know," Harry said insistently.
"No, I really don't."
"The married dating book," he hissed.
"Oh!" said Ron. "That book. Of course you can borrow my," he pitched his voice low, "married dating book." He grinned, which naturally caused Harry to blush, Ron to grin even harder, and finally Harry to punch him in the shoulder.
"You are such an arsehole, you know that?"
"It's possible you mentioned it. Once or twice." He rubbed his shoulder. "Ow. You know, that really hurt."
"I'm not sorry."
6. Proceed to date, with caution.
It was going well, he thought. No, it really was going well. Mrs. Granger liked to say that an ounce of preparation was worth a pound of cure. Granted, the first time she'd imparted that bit of wisdom, was right after Ron had made a spectacular hash of their second anniversary, but good advice was good advice. He'd done his research. Hermione would be good. He'd done his prep work. His mother in law, and his field work trainer would be proud.
The boss liked to say that you weren't paranoid, if they were out to get you. Ron had taken that to heart too. Ron wasn't paranoid; experience showed that life was out to get him. This time he'd get life. The boss wouldn't be proud. Ron wasn't sure he was capable of feeling anything other than sheer malice and sadistic glee. It was possible, Ron felt, that he might have been capable of approving of his efforts. That was enough for him.
"It was a lovely film, Ron."
"It was, wasn't it?" He smiled down at Hermione. She smiled back, bright, and clear as the stars that were making a rare appearance in the London sky.
The night was cool, and as usual, it had been a long day for both of them. She wore a light cardigan over over a plain black t-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tied back simply, in a low knot. She managed to looked more elegant than any of the dressed up women they passed. More lovely.
Her smile changed, eyes crinkling, mouth sweet. Suddenly it was the easiest thing, the most obvious thing in the world, to take her hands in his; to lean down and brush a kiss across her lips. When he took a step back and opened his eyes, she was still smiling. "What's for dessert?"
"You're not hungry again already, are you?"
"Starving, actually." Her stomach rumbled its assent. "I worked through lunch."
"Not preparing Parminder?"
"Well..." Her stomach grumbled again, this time louder. He just laughed.
"It's only nine. Rose and Lucille should be able to manage long enough for us to get ice cream."
"There's a nice place down the block. Ginny and I went there once."
"Lead on," Ron said, and held out his hand. Hermione curled her fingers around his, and they took their time. Walking slowly, talking about inconsequential things.
It was just as they were about to go into the ice cream parlor that things went, once again, irrevocably pear shaped. The unusual part of this was that it involved werewolves. I mean really, he reflected, who expected werewolves?
7. ...
Ron didn't remember what step seven was. He was exactly 3,000% certain that 10 Simple Steps to Enjoying Date Night With Your Wife had nothing to say about fighting werewolves in downtown London. Likewise, it lacked an entry on the part of Date Night With You Wife, where your best friend and brother in law crashed his broom at your feet, just as you were about to enter a Muggle ice cream parlor, and demanded your help.
"Remember when the boss said you had the night off? Yeah, now you're on call, and I'm calling."
Fortunately Ron was long past needing direction as to the appropriate response to such a turn of events. He had his wand out before Harry was done stumbling away from the wreckage of his broom, miraculously unhurt. Beside him, Hermione had her wand out and raised, and was scanning the street around them for threats.
Harry coughed once, shook the fiery twigs out of his hair and off his robes, and he was ready; wand up and his back pressed to theirs.
"Are you all right Harry?" Hermione asked without turning to look him over.
"Good enough to fight werewolves." As if in response, the dark alley from which Harry had crashed in on them, erupted in howls. They were close. Too close for them to do much in the way of preparation. Good thing they knew how to improvise.
"Where's Shipley?" Ron asked.
"Still on his broom, I hope. Hermione, the Muggles." She nodded, and in moments the ice cream parlor and the rest of the street was blocked off by two invisible shields: one physically impenetrable, the other in their heads. The Muggles wouldn't even know it was there. With luck there would be few to confound afterwards.
Then, between one second and another, the werewolves were on them; a whole pack. Ron counted at least ten, before he no longer had the luxury of thinking big picture. His world narrowed to the silver-coloured wolf leaping at him, and Harry and Hermione behind him.
"Stupefy!" he yelled, putting as much force into it as he could muster. The wolf, caught mid leap, dropped harmlessly to the ground. No harm to Ron, at least. He wasn't sure about the werewolf. He didn't have time to check on it, even if he'd wanted to. Another one was quick to take its place.
Ron dodged its snapping jaws. It was a near thing; she caught his sleeve with her teeth. She tugged, managing to drag him forward a few steps, closer to her pack. "Diffindo!" His shirt sleeve ripped neatly and he stumbled back, away from her. He was lucky he hadn't taken his hand off with that.
She snarled, spat out the bit of fabric, and crouched. Two of her pack moved in beside her. Damn, damn and damn, he thought.
Behind him, Hermione yelled, "Alarte ascendre!" And a big werewolf was flying past Ron, back into the alley. My wife, he thought, is absolutely brilliant.
He pointed at the she-wolf. "Wingardium leviosa!" She flew straight up, tumbling around and around. Like a rat on a wheel. She clawed at the air uselessly, howling in frustration. Her pack mates watched her, dumbfounded, at least for the moment. Apparently, even werewolves were distracted by the absurd. Wouldn't last. So he dropped her. On her pack mates.
"This is not normal werewolf behaviour."
"They're American," Harry said, as if that explained everything. Hermione nodded as if it did.
Ron lost the next fifteen minutes in a blur of near misses, and hexes. When it came time to give his report, he would be able to recount it all accurately, but for now it was just the three of them, their wands and a whole lot of angry dogs in need of muzzling. That was a place he was strangely comfortable.
"Don't you think there's rather a lot of them?" Hermione asked some minutes later, when they were all thrust together again.
"Shipley thinks it's got something to do with Mercury and Venus in superior conjunction."
"Oh!" Hermione said, as if that explained everything. "That explains everything."
"Less explaining; more fighting," Ron said, then petrified three wolves, in quick succession. "Dammit, where's Shipley?" The universe chose that moment to smile on them.
"Ron, look!" Hermione pointed to a figure on a broom, closing on their position. No way, he thought.
"Homorphus," yelled Shipley from his broom.
Six more Aurors flew in behind him, in formation. "Homorphus!" they yelled together. All around them, werewolves shrieked, and squealed, and changed slowly, (and evidently painfully, based on the sheer amount of shrieking and squealing), back into their human forms.
"The homorphus charm actually works?" Harry watched the transforming werewolves with obvious disbelief.
"The homorphus charm actually exists?"
"And what's the deal with this homorphus charm?" Ron asked. No one seemed to notice. *
"Harry, Ron! It's good to see you." Shipley landed, and hopped neatly off his broom. "Ms. Granger." He nodded to Hermione.
"It's great to see you," said Harry.
"It's great to see you're not incompetent."
"Ron!"
Shipley grinned. "Much to the boss's disappointment, I'm sure."
"No doubt he'll be comforted by my night off turning into throw down with a pack of crazed, American werewolves."
"Listen up boys! Werewolves. They're what happens when you request time off."
"Being an Auror isn't a job; it's a way of life!"
"Tell that to my kids," Shipley said. "I barely remember what the youngest looks like."
"Oh god." Hermione went pale. "Lucille."
"Who's Lucille?"
"The babysitter," said Ron. "Don't even ask."
"You two go home and check in on Rose," Harry said. "Shipley and I can take care of this lot." He nodded to the transformed werewolves, lying in piles, all over the alley. At least twenty-five, all of them unconscious and naked.
Harry waved over the on-call Aurors. "You two, check the pack for serious injuries. The rest of you, you're on Muggle detail. Confound if necessary."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.
"Absolutely. You can tell us all about your date later."
"But our reports..."
"I think we can fudge procedure on this one. Besides, it'll take hours to book all of them."
"If you're sure..."
"I'm very sure."
"Thank you, Harry. Make sure you check in with Ginny." Hermione gave him a quick hug, took a step back and disaparated.
"Thanks, mate," said Ron. They clasped hands briefly, and then he stepped away, to follow his wife home. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"What's the potion called?"
"The hair potion?" Ron nodded. "Twilight."
"You uh, might want to find a mirror."
"Why, is there something wrong?"
"Nah, it's just kind of... dazzling. "
"Dazzling? You know, Cedric used to use-"
"Night Harry!" Ron apparated, before he could start laughing. Shipley was a good man. He'd record everything.
She was waiting for him at the front door. They never apparated directly inside the house. Hermione insisted. Even though all the apparating they'd done over the years, under less than ideal circumstances, made the risk of splinching all but nonexistent. Ron could apparate clear across the city while drunk, with perfect accuracy, but he wasn't allowed to apparate into his own living room. *
(Truthfully, while the rule used to bother him, when Rose was born, he found that he didn't mind it quite so much).
He stepped up beside her. "Hey."
"Hey," she said back. Ron couldn't tell if she was smiling or grimacing.
"So the date."
"Yes?"
"Did it actually happen?"
"Of course it did. How else would I get the opportunity to learn the homorphus charm?" She smiled. "And it was great, right up until the werewolves."
"Putting aside the risk of death and dismemberment, the werewolves weren't so bad."
"Oh really."
"They did give me the opportunity to see my brilliant wife in action." She smiled, and then leaned up to kiss him, quickly. Frankly, Ron was too tired to mourn the lost opportunity for something more extensive.
"We'd better check on Rose."
"I'm sure she's fine."
"You do seem awfully sure."
"I closed the floo to everything but emergencies, before we left."
"Clever boy."
"I have my moments." The house was dark, and silent. "D'you think she fell asleep?"
"We are late." With a flick of her wand, Hermione turned the first floor lights up. "Lucille?" She wasn't in the living room. Hermione went into the kitchen to look for her. Ron padded into the living room. Lucille's bag was still sitting by the telly, where she'd dropped it earlier that night. Her jacket was still slung across the back of the couch. In fact, everything was remarkably and thankfully, tidy.
"Maybe she's upstairs with- great Merlin!"
"Ron? Are you all right?"
"I found Lucille. She's on the ceiling."
There was a crash in the kitchen. It sounded like dishes breaking. Ron found that he didn't care. They were ugly dishes, and he'd wanted new ones for ages.
Hermione skidded to a halt beside him. "What do you mean she's on the ceiling?" Ron just pointed. At Lucille, fangs extended, but harmless, stuck as she was to the ceiling of their living room. To Rose, who sat happily beside the couch. Playing with her ball. It bounced. "Crup." Barked. "Crup." The image of the crup seemed to smile up at them, from the ball.
"A vampire, Ron? You let a vampire babysit our daughter?" Hermione dashed forward, and swept Rose up into her arms.
"I did?" Ron was pretty sure he hadn't made that decision on his own.
"She could have killed Rose." Hermione glared at him.
"Actually," Lucille said. "I don't like children. Their blood is so... innocent. It's kind of gross actually. I prefer teenage boys."
"You see Hermione, she prefers teenage boy- You didn't." Lucille shrugged. "In my sister's house?"
"Only twice! Ok, three times. But I always cleaned up after myself."
"Monster!"
"Being, thank you. And if you don't mind, could you let me down from here and get on with arresting me? It's rather embarrassing to be overcome by a baby."
Rose waved cheerily at Lucille.
"Arrest you?" Ron all but shouted. "I've half a mind to call Mildred over to deal with you."
"Not Mildred Bray?" Lucille's eyes widened in horror.
"That's the one."
"I knew this was a bad idea." *
"You knew?" Hermione's eye developed a hitherto unknown twitch.
"Really, I'm fine with being arrested. I'll go willingly."
Hermione smiled nastily. "Rose, darling." She tapped her daughter's nose with index finger. Rose just burbled happily. "Let the bad vampire lady down."
"Any time now-" Abruptly, Lucille crashed to the floor. Though it was carpeted, it didn't seem to be break her fall.
"Crup!" said Rose.
"Good girl," Hermione cooed. "Can you say that again?"
"Crup!"
Epilogue
Lucille was in a holding cell, not far from the werewolves.
Harry was at home, with Ginny and a soundly sleeping James. 10 Simple Steps to Enjoying Date Night With Your Wife was waiting for him in the drawer of his night table.
Shipley was still at the office, paying for his competence with paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork.
No one knew where the boss was, save for the boss himself. Humanity en masse counted itself lucky for the reprieve.
In some nameless, dingy pub, Mira and Rogers were drinking themselves silly, kraken defeated.
Somewhere in Sweden, Luna Lovegood was celebrating the discovery of an entire family of crumple-horned snorkacks.
In the Burrow, Arthur and Molly Weasley slept soundly. Blissfully unaware of all of this.
Rose was safely asleep, upstairs in her crib, dreaming of crups. An exhausted Ron and Hermione sat on the floor by the couch, where their daughter had, in a spectacular demonstration of the kind of involuntary magic only children could manage, foiled a vampire. And in the process, blown out the Harding adapters that allowed their Muggle electronics to function. No telly was a small price to pay for his daughter's life, Ron told himself. Again, and again.
Easier to take, somehow, was the no telly vs. proof of his daughter's brilliance, trade off. Not only had she manifested signs of magic earlier than any of her cousins, but she'd demonstrated more power, and more (dare he say) Gryffindor spirit, than any of them. Especially Percy's kids. They were good kids, mind. But they weren't Rose. Not even Hermione had been able to contain herself. ("She has so much potential! I mean, of course I knew she had potential, but I didn't want to focus on the purely magical.") She was already talking tutors.
"I don't understand how none of us noticed she was a vampire."
"Desperation, I suppose."
"But Harry and Ginny employed her for months. He's spent his life fighting the Dark Arts. How could he not notice that his babysitter was evil?"
"To be fair, she didn't mean any of them harm. She was just using them. As bait." Hermione glared at him. "I just mean, maybe Harry didn't notice, because Lucille was directing all her evil into seducing boys. And eating them. In his house." Harry was Ron's best friend, but even he had to admit that it sounded bad.
"You didn't suspect anything, did you?"
"What? No!"
"It's just... I thought maybe..."
"Oh, no. I just thought she was a massive slut, and incredibly stupid. What kind of a teenage girl dresses like that?"
"The vampire kind, I guess."
"You know, I think her robes were chiffon." Hermione gave him a funny look. Ron thought it best to just let it go.
For a while, they sat together in silence. It was a more companionable silence than managed at home in months. Maybe there were beneficial side effects, to enduring yet another life threatening experience with your wife.
"You know our first date?"
Ron smiled. "When we tried to teach each other to skate?"
"No, our real first date."
"The one that didn't happen."
"Except it did happen," she said softly. "Just like this one did."
"Well, yeah, but we don't have to acknowledge it, if you don't want to. The Minister certainly doesn't. Jerry really came around though, didn't he?"
"I suppose it was easier to just forget about it. I mean, it was such an unmitigated disaster, and politically, it would have been awkward to ever mention it. And then the next date was so..."
"Perfect?"
"Yes," she said. She smiled, and Ron couldn't not smile back.
"You know..." He started out hesitant but then his confession came out in a rush. "I thought the movie was a romance. I thought White Heat was supposed to be sexy."
"And then you were completely horrified when it turned out not to be."
"And completely relieved when you liked it, for some reason."
"It's rich with symbolism, Ron."
"Yeah, so you said."
She laughed, and he joined her. It was funnier than it should have been. Then she said something he didn't expect, something he'd never considered. "I knew you'd made a mistake."
"What?"
"About the movie. When he started killing people, you gasped in shock."
"I did not!"
"You did. It was adorable. And honestly Ron, you never would have picked that film. You can barely sit through repeats of The Young Ones."
"You knew all this time?"
"Of course I did." Of course she did. She was Hermione Granger, and he was still Ron Weasley.
"I just..." Wanted it to be perfect. Wanted them to have something perfect.
"It was a lovely date. So was tonight."
"Aside from the werewolves, and the vampires. Our continued inability to keep a regular babysitter."
"There's always Molly and Arthur."
"I love my parents, Hermione. I just don't want Rose to come home in jumpers."
"Werewolves. Vampires. Horrible, truly horrible jumpers." Hermione laughed. "This is our life, Ron. You don't need to romance me, whenever we get frustrated with each other."
"Then why do I keep getting exiled to the couch?"
"Because... because sometimes I'm not very reasonable either."
Ron clutched his chest. "First... you tell me you don't want romance... then... you admit to being unreasonable. I don't think my heart can take it."
"Ron!" She swatted him.
"Sorry, sorry. Oh damn."
"What?"
"I wish I'd recorded that. You don't think you'd say it again, for posterity?"
"You. Are. Insufferable."
"But come on, admit me."
"Admit what?
"You like it, don't you? At least a little." He grinned.
She laughed. "Maybe just a little."
"How little? Would you say, a tad?"
"A tad sounds about right."
They didn't talk again for the rest of the night. They were busy kissing, and doing other things, some much more interesting than kissing.
So ended Ron's long and storied history with self-help manuals. Harry's was another story altogether.
THE END
Notes
#13 You also didn't call the boss anything but 'the boss'. So far as Harry and Ron could tell, based on unit and departmental Christmas parties of years past, even the bosses wife called him 'the boss'. Neither of them was interested in speculating as to why that was so. Consequently, not even Harry, who was even more of a legend before his time, than he'd been as a child, was willing to call the boss anything other than 'the boss'.
#14 The deal with the homorphus charm, was that it was long suspected to be another of Gilderoy Lockhart's many fabrications. Marius Shipley discovered its existence quite by accident, while battling the pack's alpha werewolf that very night, and passed the secret on to his fellow Aurors. The alpha, being the leader of a pack of over one hundred werewolves, all told, fought harder and longer than any werewolf since the famous, Balder the Bald. It was only blind, animal panic that inspired Shipley to test Lockhart's description of the charm. It was to his infinite surprise, that he found that the blowhard had for once, been right. That stroke of luck would go on to save the lives of many werewolves, as it became standard practice for capturing rogues.
#15 With four married brothers (if you counted Harry), and all his married friends, Ron had attended more than enough bachelor parties to find this out.
#16 In addition to be a wonderful neighbor, and a fantastic gardener, Mildred was famous among her kind for her passions, and her appetites. Before undergoing detoxification Treatment she'd had the nasty habit of draining her fellow vampires, whenever they annoyed her. Which they did in many ways; chiefly by existing. The Treatment worked wonders.
END
Author: schmevil
Characters: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny
Summary: Ron consults a self-help manual, in an effort to 'reignite the spark'.
Word Count: 12,800
Author's Notes: Epilogue-compliant, along with some creative extrapolations of canon and interviews. Don't forget to read the footnotes!
Written for eruditefics for weasleyfest. Thanks to outlawpoet and tammylee for betaing.
PART ONE
4. Inform friends, family and colleagues that you will be unavailable for the duration of said outing.
"You know," said Harry. "I don't think you really need to tell Bill and Fleur that you'll be unavailable Friday night."
"Don't say that Harry, you might jinx us."
"I'm not going to jinx you."
"You're the one who kept saying that 'things come up.'"
"I doubt anything involving your brother, who is in France, will come up." Harry peered at the stack of scrolls that Ron was tying one by one, to Ministry dispatch owls. "Are you owling Charlie?"
"Yup."
"Do you even know where he is?"
"Last I heard, the Amazon." Harry eyed him skeptically. "I just want to be sure. Harry, you know my brothers."
"I think you're making too big a deal of this. It's just dinner and a movie."
"It's not just dinner and a movie. It's date night." Their first date night in over a year and a half.
"What is it with you and date night?" Ron glared at him. "Seriously. I mean, Ginny and I still go out. Sometimes. But it's not this huge thing."
"The last time you and Ginny went out to something that wasn't work related, was before Rose was born."
"Really? No." Harry scratched his head. Stared out the window. Visibly counted backwards. "My god, you're right."
"See?"
"Yeah but Ginny and I still-" Ron raised a hand in warning. "Right. I don't think we need that kind of thing. You know. Romance. Wait, has Ginny said something?"
"You'd be better off asking Hermione, mate. Hand me that last scroll."
"Who's this one for?"
"Luna. Just in case." He paused. The owl peered down at him from its perch, impatient to be off on a mission. The Ministry owls were almost creepily over eager. "Where is Luna?"
"Sweden. There was another snorkack sighting."
"Didn't she decide they were a myth?"
"Yes, but apparently there's credible evidence this time."
"Well, then." Ron grinned, and motioned to the owl to come down. "Luna Lovegood," he told the owl. "Sweden." The owl bobbed his head, took two small steps and dropped off of his perch. A few strong flaps of his wings and he was out the window; off to ensure that Ron and Hermione would not be interrupted with bulletins on the mating habits of crumple-horned snorkacks.
Ron sighed happily, flush with the satisfaction of a job well-done, and the successful abuse of Ministry resources. The Owlery was all but empty. Five owls watched Ron and Harry, looking disturbingly forlorn.
"You don't have any messages to send, do you?"
"No. Why?"
Ron nodded at the five owls, huddling in the quickly darkening Owlery. "They look sort of... sad."
"Well, maybe they'll perk up once the sun has set. Speaking of which, are you done? I'd like to get home before it turns to Thursday."
"Done. Sorry guys." He shrugged at the owls, whose wings collectively drooped. "Are you still using that potion?"
Harry ran a hand over his hair. "Yeah, why? Ginny seems to like it."
"No reason," said Ron. Now was not the time to tell Harry that the sheen had graduated to sparkling in the evening light. The right moment would present itself.
Harry eyed him suspiciously, but let it go. "You did remember to tell the boss you can't be on call, Friday night, right?"
"Yup. He said it's not a problem."
5. Clear inbox of all pressing matters. If necessary, hide some of it.
Ron cracked his knuckles, eying his teetering outbox with satisfaction. His inbox was gloriously empty, for the first time in three years. He wasn't taking any chances. Granted, not everything from his inbox had made it into his outbox. There were stacks of scrolls and memos and incomplete triplicate forms stuffed into every drawer. That was why, before he left for the night, he was locking his desk up with the best security charms Charlie had taught him, and hoping for the best.
"All right boys, listen up!" The boss banged his wand on the whiteboard. Using an amplification charm would be more effective at getting the unit's attention, but Ron suspected he just liked to smash things. The boss had gone through six desk chairs this year alone. Either he loved to smash things, or he was short on kindling. Regardless, Ron got up from his desk and joined the huddle of cowering Aurors. You didn't question the boss. *
"Mira, Rogers." He pointed to the Aurors in question with his wand. The rest of the unit struggled against the urge to duck and cover. "You're following up on the kraken sighting."
"Yes sir!" they said together.
"Make sure you don't cock this one up."
"Yes sir," they said, with a marked drop in enthusiasm.
"Shipley!" he hollered. Shipley, good man that he was, stood up immediately. The boss' wand settled on him. "You're on the werewolf, thing. Take Potter with you."
"But sir-"
"Take. Potter. With. You." Shipley darted a surreptitious look at Harry, who equally surreptitiously, shrugged in response.
"Yes sir!"
"Right. Weasley here," he pointed. Ron struggled not to shiver under the attention of the wand. "Has the night off. Which means the rest of you idiots are on call." He smiled nastily, and as one, they obligingly groaned. The boss liked his Aurors miserable, and preferably groaning about it.
Once the boss had stormed out of earshot, Ron tried to make a halfhearted apology.
"Don't be sorry, mate", said Mira. "Just don't be a dick when it's my turn for time off."
Ron smiled at her. "Wouldn't think of it."
The unit retreated to their desks and except for those who were on assignment that night proceeded to lock up. To his usual (already paranoid, as far as he was concerned) mandatory charms, he added every painful security charm he could think of. Charlie had taught him this Egyptian curse that lopped off the head of anyone who tried to open the cursed object. Ron thought it over for a few seconds, then added it. It wasn't like anyone would really need to get into his desk tonight. Anyone with half a brain would be put off by the third layer of hexes. And no way was he getting called back to the office over a stray memo.
Harry settled in, leaning against the cubicle divider that stood between their cells. "So, the big night has arrived."
"Yeah. Sorry he's called you up for tonight."
"It's alright. Not your fault the boss thinks Shipley's a moron."
"Not even Shipley's fault, really," said Ron. The boss thought everyone was a moron, Harry and Ron included.
"Anyway, Ginny's working from home this week, so she'll be able to watch James."
"Still. I thought it was the ever exciting Potter Pizza Night."
"That it was. Hopefully Ginny will save me a slice." Harry frowned. "Listen, Ron." He ducked his head. Under the harsh overhead lights, his hair was damn near blinding. Ron shaded his eyes with a hand, trying to make it look casual. The potion was actually getting worse.
"Yes Harry?"
Harry did a quick threat assessment of the office. To anyone else it would look like a casual glance or three, but Ron was a trained Auror. He also caught the faint hint of desperation his friend was giving off. "D'you think I could borrow that book of yours?"
"Which book?"
"You know," Harry said insistently.
"No, I really don't."
"The married dating book," he hissed.
"Oh!" said Ron. "That book. Of course you can borrow my," he pitched his voice low, "married dating book." He grinned, which naturally caused Harry to blush, Ron to grin even harder, and finally Harry to punch him in the shoulder.
"You are such an arsehole, you know that?"
"It's possible you mentioned it. Once or twice." He rubbed his shoulder. "Ow. You know, that really hurt."
"I'm not sorry."
6. Proceed to date, with caution.
It was going well, he thought. No, it really was going well. Mrs. Granger liked to say that an ounce of preparation was worth a pound of cure. Granted, the first time she'd imparted that bit of wisdom, was right after Ron had made a spectacular hash of their second anniversary, but good advice was good advice. He'd done his research. Hermione would be good. He'd done his prep work. His mother in law, and his field work trainer would be proud.
The boss liked to say that you weren't paranoid, if they were out to get you. Ron had taken that to heart too. Ron wasn't paranoid; experience showed that life was out to get him. This time he'd get life. The boss wouldn't be proud. Ron wasn't sure he was capable of feeling anything other than sheer malice and sadistic glee. It was possible, Ron felt, that he might have been capable of approving of his efforts. That was enough for him.
"It was a lovely film, Ron."
"It was, wasn't it?" He smiled down at Hermione. She smiled back, bright, and clear as the stars that were making a rare appearance in the London sky.
The night was cool, and as usual, it had been a long day for both of them. She wore a light cardigan over over a plain black t-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tied back simply, in a low knot. She managed to looked more elegant than any of the dressed up women they passed. More lovely.
Her smile changed, eyes crinkling, mouth sweet. Suddenly it was the easiest thing, the most obvious thing in the world, to take her hands in his; to lean down and brush a kiss across her lips. When he took a step back and opened his eyes, she was still smiling. "What's for dessert?"
"You're not hungry again already, are you?"
"Starving, actually." Her stomach rumbled its assent. "I worked through lunch."
"Not preparing Parminder?"
"Well..." Her stomach grumbled again, this time louder. He just laughed.
"It's only nine. Rose and Lucille should be able to manage long enough for us to get ice cream."
"There's a nice place down the block. Ginny and I went there once."
"Lead on," Ron said, and held out his hand. Hermione curled her fingers around his, and they took their time. Walking slowly, talking about inconsequential things.
It was just as they were about to go into the ice cream parlor that things went, once again, irrevocably pear shaped. The unusual part of this was that it involved werewolves. I mean really, he reflected, who expected werewolves?
7. ...
Ron didn't remember what step seven was. He was exactly 3,000% certain that 10 Simple Steps to Enjoying Date Night With Your Wife had nothing to say about fighting werewolves in downtown London. Likewise, it lacked an entry on the part of Date Night With You Wife, where your best friend and brother in law crashed his broom at your feet, just as you were about to enter a Muggle ice cream parlor, and demanded your help.
"Remember when the boss said you had the night off? Yeah, now you're on call, and I'm calling."
Fortunately Ron was long past needing direction as to the appropriate response to such a turn of events. He had his wand out before Harry was done stumbling away from the wreckage of his broom, miraculously unhurt. Beside him, Hermione had her wand out and raised, and was scanning the street around them for threats.
Harry coughed once, shook the fiery twigs out of his hair and off his robes, and he was ready; wand up and his back pressed to theirs.
"Are you all right Harry?" Hermione asked without turning to look him over.
"Good enough to fight werewolves." As if in response, the dark alley from which Harry had crashed in on them, erupted in howls. They were close. Too close for them to do much in the way of preparation. Good thing they knew how to improvise.
"Where's Shipley?" Ron asked.
"Still on his broom, I hope. Hermione, the Muggles." She nodded, and in moments the ice cream parlor and the rest of the street was blocked off by two invisible shields: one physically impenetrable, the other in their heads. The Muggles wouldn't even know it was there. With luck there would be few to confound afterwards.
Then, between one second and another, the werewolves were on them; a whole pack. Ron counted at least ten, before he no longer had the luxury of thinking big picture. His world narrowed to the silver-coloured wolf leaping at him, and Harry and Hermione behind him.
"Stupefy!" he yelled, putting as much force into it as he could muster. The wolf, caught mid leap, dropped harmlessly to the ground. No harm to Ron, at least. He wasn't sure about the werewolf. He didn't have time to check on it, even if he'd wanted to. Another one was quick to take its place.
Ron dodged its snapping jaws. It was a near thing; she caught his sleeve with her teeth. She tugged, managing to drag him forward a few steps, closer to her pack. "Diffindo!" His shirt sleeve ripped neatly and he stumbled back, away from her. He was lucky he hadn't taken his hand off with that.
She snarled, spat out the bit of fabric, and crouched. Two of her pack moved in beside her. Damn, damn and damn, he thought.
Behind him, Hermione yelled, "Alarte ascendre!" And a big werewolf was flying past Ron, back into the alley. My wife, he thought, is absolutely brilliant.
He pointed at the she-wolf. "Wingardium leviosa!" She flew straight up, tumbling around and around. Like a rat on a wheel. She clawed at the air uselessly, howling in frustration. Her pack mates watched her, dumbfounded, at least for the moment. Apparently, even werewolves were distracted by the absurd. Wouldn't last. So he dropped her. On her pack mates.
"This is not normal werewolf behaviour."
"They're American," Harry said, as if that explained everything. Hermione nodded as if it did.
Ron lost the next fifteen minutes in a blur of near misses, and hexes. When it came time to give his report, he would be able to recount it all accurately, but for now it was just the three of them, their wands and a whole lot of angry dogs in need of muzzling. That was a place he was strangely comfortable.
"Don't you think there's rather a lot of them?" Hermione asked some minutes later, when they were all thrust together again.
"Shipley thinks it's got something to do with Mercury and Venus in superior conjunction."
"Oh!" Hermione said, as if that explained everything. "That explains everything."
"Less explaining; more fighting," Ron said, then petrified three wolves, in quick succession. "Dammit, where's Shipley?" The universe chose that moment to smile on them.
"Ron, look!" Hermione pointed to a figure on a broom, closing on their position. No way, he thought.
"Homorphus," yelled Shipley from his broom.
Six more Aurors flew in behind him, in formation. "Homorphus!" they yelled together. All around them, werewolves shrieked, and squealed, and changed slowly, (and evidently painfully, based on the sheer amount of shrieking and squealing), back into their human forms.
"The homorphus charm actually works?" Harry watched the transforming werewolves with obvious disbelief.
"The homorphus charm actually exists?"
"And what's the deal with this homorphus charm?" Ron asked. No one seemed to notice. *
"Harry, Ron! It's good to see you." Shipley landed, and hopped neatly off his broom. "Ms. Granger." He nodded to Hermione.
"It's great to see you," said Harry.
"It's great to see you're not incompetent."
"Ron!"
Shipley grinned. "Much to the boss's disappointment, I'm sure."
"No doubt he'll be comforted by my night off turning into throw down with a pack of crazed, American werewolves."
"Listen up boys! Werewolves. They're what happens when you request time off."
"Being an Auror isn't a job; it's a way of life!"
"Tell that to my kids," Shipley said. "I barely remember what the youngest looks like."
"Oh god." Hermione went pale. "Lucille."
"Who's Lucille?"
"The babysitter," said Ron. "Don't even ask."
"You two go home and check in on Rose," Harry said. "Shipley and I can take care of this lot." He nodded to the transformed werewolves, lying in piles, all over the alley. At least twenty-five, all of them unconscious and naked.
Harry waved over the on-call Aurors. "You two, check the pack for serious injuries. The rest of you, you're on Muggle detail. Confound if necessary."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.
"Absolutely. You can tell us all about your date later."
"But our reports..."
"I think we can fudge procedure on this one. Besides, it'll take hours to book all of them."
"If you're sure..."
"I'm very sure."
"Thank you, Harry. Make sure you check in with Ginny." Hermione gave him a quick hug, took a step back and disaparated.
"Thanks, mate," said Ron. They clasped hands briefly, and then he stepped away, to follow his wife home. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"What's the potion called?"
"The hair potion?" Ron nodded. "Twilight."
"You uh, might want to find a mirror."
"Why, is there something wrong?"
"Nah, it's just kind of... dazzling. "
"Dazzling? You know, Cedric used to use-"
"Night Harry!" Ron apparated, before he could start laughing. Shipley was a good man. He'd record everything.
She was waiting for him at the front door. They never apparated directly inside the house. Hermione insisted. Even though all the apparating they'd done over the years, under less than ideal circumstances, made the risk of splinching all but nonexistent. Ron could apparate clear across the city while drunk, with perfect accuracy, but he wasn't allowed to apparate into his own living room. *
(Truthfully, while the rule used to bother him, when Rose was born, he found that he didn't mind it quite so much).
He stepped up beside her. "Hey."
"Hey," she said back. Ron couldn't tell if she was smiling or grimacing.
"So the date."
"Yes?"
"Did it actually happen?"
"Of course it did. How else would I get the opportunity to learn the homorphus charm?" She smiled. "And it was great, right up until the werewolves."
"Putting aside the risk of death and dismemberment, the werewolves weren't so bad."
"Oh really."
"They did give me the opportunity to see my brilliant wife in action." She smiled, and then leaned up to kiss him, quickly. Frankly, Ron was too tired to mourn the lost opportunity for something more extensive.
"We'd better check on Rose."
"I'm sure she's fine."
"You do seem awfully sure."
"I closed the floo to everything but emergencies, before we left."
"Clever boy."
"I have my moments." The house was dark, and silent. "D'you think she fell asleep?"
"We are late." With a flick of her wand, Hermione turned the first floor lights up. "Lucille?" She wasn't in the living room. Hermione went into the kitchen to look for her. Ron padded into the living room. Lucille's bag was still sitting by the telly, where she'd dropped it earlier that night. Her jacket was still slung across the back of the couch. In fact, everything was remarkably and thankfully, tidy.
"Maybe she's upstairs with- great Merlin!"
"Ron? Are you all right?"
"I found Lucille. She's on the ceiling."
There was a crash in the kitchen. It sounded like dishes breaking. Ron found that he didn't care. They were ugly dishes, and he'd wanted new ones for ages.
Hermione skidded to a halt beside him. "What do you mean she's on the ceiling?" Ron just pointed. At Lucille, fangs extended, but harmless, stuck as she was to the ceiling of their living room. To Rose, who sat happily beside the couch. Playing with her ball. It bounced. "Crup." Barked. "Crup." The image of the crup seemed to smile up at them, from the ball.
"A vampire, Ron? You let a vampire babysit our daughter?" Hermione dashed forward, and swept Rose up into her arms.
"I did?" Ron was pretty sure he hadn't made that decision on his own.
"She could have killed Rose." Hermione glared at him.
"Actually," Lucille said. "I don't like children. Their blood is so... innocent. It's kind of gross actually. I prefer teenage boys."
"You see Hermione, she prefers teenage boy- You didn't." Lucille shrugged. "In my sister's house?"
"Only twice! Ok, three times. But I always cleaned up after myself."
"Monster!"
"Being, thank you. And if you don't mind, could you let me down from here and get on with arresting me? It's rather embarrassing to be overcome by a baby."
Rose waved cheerily at Lucille.
"Arrest you?" Ron all but shouted. "I've half a mind to call Mildred over to deal with you."
"Not Mildred Bray?" Lucille's eyes widened in horror.
"That's the one."
"I knew this was a bad idea." *
"You knew?" Hermione's eye developed a hitherto unknown twitch.
"Really, I'm fine with being arrested. I'll go willingly."
Hermione smiled nastily. "Rose, darling." She tapped her daughter's nose with index finger. Rose just burbled happily. "Let the bad vampire lady down."
"Any time now-" Abruptly, Lucille crashed to the floor. Though it was carpeted, it didn't seem to be break her fall.
"Crup!" said Rose.
"Good girl," Hermione cooed. "Can you say that again?"
"Crup!"
Epilogue
Lucille was in a holding cell, not far from the werewolves.
Harry was at home, with Ginny and a soundly sleeping James. 10 Simple Steps to Enjoying Date Night With Your Wife was waiting for him in the drawer of his night table.
Shipley was still at the office, paying for his competence with paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork.
No one knew where the boss was, save for the boss himself. Humanity en masse counted itself lucky for the reprieve.
In some nameless, dingy pub, Mira and Rogers were drinking themselves silly, kraken defeated.
Somewhere in Sweden, Luna Lovegood was celebrating the discovery of an entire family of crumple-horned snorkacks.
In the Burrow, Arthur and Molly Weasley slept soundly. Blissfully unaware of all of this.
Rose was safely asleep, upstairs in her crib, dreaming of crups. An exhausted Ron and Hermione sat on the floor by the couch, where their daughter had, in a spectacular demonstration of the kind of involuntary magic only children could manage, foiled a vampire. And in the process, blown out the Harding adapters that allowed their Muggle electronics to function. No telly was a small price to pay for his daughter's life, Ron told himself. Again, and again.
Easier to take, somehow, was the no telly vs. proof of his daughter's brilliance, trade off. Not only had she manifested signs of magic earlier than any of her cousins, but she'd demonstrated more power, and more (dare he say) Gryffindor spirit, than any of them. Especially Percy's kids. They were good kids, mind. But they weren't Rose. Not even Hermione had been able to contain herself. ("She has so much potential! I mean, of course I knew she had potential, but I didn't want to focus on the purely magical.") She was already talking tutors.
"I don't understand how none of us noticed she was a vampire."
"Desperation, I suppose."
"But Harry and Ginny employed her for months. He's spent his life fighting the Dark Arts. How could he not notice that his babysitter was evil?"
"To be fair, she didn't mean any of them harm. She was just using them. As bait." Hermione glared at him. "I just mean, maybe Harry didn't notice, because Lucille was directing all her evil into seducing boys. And eating them. In his house." Harry was Ron's best friend, but even he had to admit that it sounded bad.
"You didn't suspect anything, did you?"
"What? No!"
"It's just... I thought maybe..."
"Oh, no. I just thought she was a massive slut, and incredibly stupid. What kind of a teenage girl dresses like that?"
"The vampire kind, I guess."
"You know, I think her robes were chiffon." Hermione gave him a funny look. Ron thought it best to just let it go.
For a while, they sat together in silence. It was a more companionable silence than managed at home in months. Maybe there were beneficial side effects, to enduring yet another life threatening experience with your wife.
"You know our first date?"
Ron smiled. "When we tried to teach each other to skate?"
"No, our real first date."
"The one that didn't happen."
"Except it did happen," she said softly. "Just like this one did."
"Well, yeah, but we don't have to acknowledge it, if you don't want to. The Minister certainly doesn't. Jerry really came around though, didn't he?"
"I suppose it was easier to just forget about it. I mean, it was such an unmitigated disaster, and politically, it would have been awkward to ever mention it. And then the next date was so..."
"Perfect?"
"Yes," she said. She smiled, and Ron couldn't not smile back.
"You know..." He started out hesitant but then his confession came out in a rush. "I thought the movie was a romance. I thought White Heat was supposed to be sexy."
"And then you were completely horrified when it turned out not to be."
"And completely relieved when you liked it, for some reason."
"It's rich with symbolism, Ron."
"Yeah, so you said."
She laughed, and he joined her. It was funnier than it should have been. Then she said something he didn't expect, something he'd never considered. "I knew you'd made a mistake."
"What?"
"About the movie. When he started killing people, you gasped in shock."
"I did not!"
"You did. It was adorable. And honestly Ron, you never would have picked that film. You can barely sit through repeats of The Young Ones."
"You knew all this time?"
"Of course I did." Of course she did. She was Hermione Granger, and he was still Ron Weasley.
"I just..." Wanted it to be perfect. Wanted them to have something perfect.
"It was a lovely date. So was tonight."
"Aside from the werewolves, and the vampires. Our continued inability to keep a regular babysitter."
"There's always Molly and Arthur."
"I love my parents, Hermione. I just don't want Rose to come home in jumpers."
"Werewolves. Vampires. Horrible, truly horrible jumpers." Hermione laughed. "This is our life, Ron. You don't need to romance me, whenever we get frustrated with each other."
"Then why do I keep getting exiled to the couch?"
"Because... because sometimes I'm not very reasonable either."
Ron clutched his chest. "First... you tell me you don't want romance... then... you admit to being unreasonable. I don't think my heart can take it."
"Ron!" She swatted him.
"Sorry, sorry. Oh damn."
"What?"
"I wish I'd recorded that. You don't think you'd say it again, for posterity?"
"You. Are. Insufferable."
"But come on, admit me."
"Admit what?
"You like it, don't you? At least a little." He grinned.
She laughed. "Maybe just a little."
"How little? Would you say, a tad?"
"A tad sounds about right."
They didn't talk again for the rest of the night. They were busy kissing, and doing other things, some much more interesting than kissing.
So ended Ron's long and storied history with self-help manuals. Harry's was another story altogether.
THE END
Notes
#13 You also didn't call the boss anything but 'the boss'. So far as Harry and Ron could tell, based on unit and departmental Christmas parties of years past, even the bosses wife called him 'the boss'. Neither of them was interested in speculating as to why that was so. Consequently, not even Harry, who was even more of a legend before his time, than he'd been as a child, was willing to call the boss anything other than 'the boss'.
#14 The deal with the homorphus charm, was that it was long suspected to be another of Gilderoy Lockhart's many fabrications. Marius Shipley discovered its existence quite by accident, while battling the pack's alpha werewolf that very night, and passed the secret on to his fellow Aurors. The alpha, being the leader of a pack of over one hundred werewolves, all told, fought harder and longer than any werewolf since the famous, Balder the Bald. It was only blind, animal panic that inspired Shipley to test Lockhart's description of the charm. It was to his infinite surprise, that he found that the blowhard had for once, been right. That stroke of luck would go on to save the lives of many werewolves, as it became standard practice for capturing rogues.
#15 With four married brothers (if you counted Harry), and all his married friends, Ron had attended more than enough bachelor parties to find this out.
#16 In addition to be a wonderful neighbor, and a fantastic gardener, Mildred was famous among her kind for her passions, and her appetites. Before undergoing detoxification Treatment she'd had the nasty habit of draining her fellow vampires, whenever they annoyed her. Which they did in many ways; chiefly by existing. The Treatment worked wonders.
END