Harry checked the wards one last time, the Elder wand tracing the perimeter of the property. The defensive spells hummed with latent power, responding to his magic like eager hounds awaiting commands. He’d reinforced everything he could think of. Additional detection charms, anti-apparition jinxes, and a few nasty surprises for anyone stupid enough to attempt a breach.
“Should hold,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Evelyn stood nearby, watching him with an assessing gaze. “You’re thorough. I like that.”
“Thoroughness keeps people alive,” Harry replied. He lowered his wand and turned to face her. “The girls know what to do if anything happens?”
“They do. Susan has the emergency portkey. Daphne knows the safe room protocols. They’ll be fine.”
Harry nodded. Good enough. He’d done everything possible to secure their newest safehouse before leaving. The rest was out of his hands.
He and Evelyn apparated together, appearing in the living room of Grimmauld Place just as Nym walked in, already dressed in dark tactical robes that hugged her lean frame. Her hair was tied back, no longer the vibrant pink she usually wore but a practical dark brown that would help her blend into shadows. Her wand sat ready in a holster at her hip.
“Ready?” she asked, her voice tight with barely restrained energy.
Harry studied her carefully. The tension radiating from her was obvious. Her jaw was clenched, her shoulders rigid. Everything about her posture screamed readiness for violence.
“Ready,” he confirmed.
Fleur joined them a moment later, moving with her usual liquid grace. She’d also chosen dark clothing, though somehow she still managed to look elegant despite the practical nature of the outfit. Her silvery blonde hair was braided back from her face.
“We should go,” Fleur said. “The sooner we scout the manor, the sooner we can plan properly.”
Harry nodded and led them to the apparition point. They’d already discussed their approach. Multiple apparition jumps to avoid detection, arriving some distance from the actual manor to minimize magical signatures. Standard reconnaissance protocols that Nym had drilled into them earlier.
The first jump took them to a deserted field outside London. The second brought them to Yorkshire, landing in a copse of trees several miles from their target. The final apparition deposited them in a small valley, well concealed by natural terrain.
Harry cast a quick disillusionment charm over all three of them. The spell settled across his skin like cool water, bending light around them until they were nearly invisible against the landscape.
“Stay close,” he murmured. “No unnecessary noise. We’re ghosts.”
They moved through the countryside with practiced stealth. Nym took point, her Auror training evident in the way she navigated the terrain. She chose paths that offered maximum cover, avoided open ground, and constantly scanned for threats.
Fleur moved like water, each step silent and sure. Her veela heritage gave her an almost supernatural awareness of her surroundings, and Harry noticed how she seemed to sense danger before it became apparent.
Harry brought up the rear, his magical senses extended. He could feel the wards around the manor long before they came into visual range. Old magic, twisted and dark. Bellatrix had layered protections upon protections, each one designed to detect and destroy intruders.
The manor itself came into view as they crested a small hill. It was a sprawling structure of gray stone, three stories tall with multiple wings extending from a central building. Windows stared out like dead eyes, many of them broken or boarded up. The grounds around it were overgrown, gardens gone wild without care.
“There,” Nym whispered, pointing to a section of wall where stones had collapsed. “Weakness in the structure.”
Harry nodded, cataloging the information. Structural weaknesses could be exploited during an assault. Bring down a wall and you created chaos, which was always useful in combat.
They circled the manor slowly, staying well outside the ward line. Harry could feel the defensive spells prickling against his magical senses. Detection wards, anti-apparition jinxes, and something else. Something nastier that he identified easily. He almost raised an impressed eyebrow.
“Those wards are recent,” Fleur observed quietly. “Within the last week. I can sense the magical residue.”
“Death Eater standard defensive arrays,” Nym added. “I’ve seen similar setups before. They’re designed to alert the caster immediately if tripped.”
Harry pulled out a small mirror from his pocket. It was a specialty item, enchanted to detect magical signatures. He held it up, angling it toward the manor, and watched as faint lines of light became visible through the reflection.
“Three layers at minimum,” he said. “Outer perimeter detection, middle layer anti intrusion, and something concentrated around the building itself.”
“Can you break them?” Nym asked.
“Eventually. But not quickly and not quietly. We’d need time to unpick each layer, and the moment we started they’d know someone was there.”
Nym cursed under her breath. “So we can’t sneak in.”
“Not without alerting them,” Harry confirmed. “Which means when we come back, we come ready for a fight.”
They continued their observation, noting entrances and exits. The main doors were massive oak affairs, clearly reinforced with magic. Several smaller side doors offered potential entry points, though all would be warded. The windows on the ground floor were barred, but upper story windows remained open to the elements.
“Movement,” Fleur said suddenly, her voice barely audible.
Harry followed her gaze. A figure had appeared near the east wing, moving with purpose across the overgrown grounds. Even at this distance, the death eater robes were unmistakable. The figure paused, seemed to be checking something, then disappeared back inside.
“At least one guard on patrol,” Harry noted. “Probably more inside.”
Over the next two hours, they identified four separate patrol patterns. The Death Eaters were being methodical about their security, rotating guards at regular intervals. Harry committed each pattern to memory, noting the timing and routes.
What intrigued him more was the sheer number of people coming and going. This wasn’t just a hiding place. This was an active base of operations. Death Eaters arrived via apparition, spent time inside, then left again. Some carried what looked like supplies. Others seemed to be reporting for duty.
“They’re organizing something,” Nym said, echoing his thoughts. “You don’t maintain this level of activity for a simple hideout.”
“Agreed,” Harry said. “The question is what.”
“Could be the Diagon Alley attack,” Fleur suggested. “Planning and coordination would require this kind of movement.”
“Possibly. Or something else entirely.” Harry watched another pair of Death Eaters arrive, their conversation inaudible from this distance. “Either way, they’re up to something and it’s happening soon.”
Nym shifted beside him, her body coiled with tension. Harry could feel it radiating off her, the need to act warring with the discipline of patience.
“We should get closer,” she said. “Try to find out what they’re actually getting up to.”
“Too risky,” Harry replied. “Those wards would detect us the moment we crossed the threshold.”
“Then what’s the point of being here?” Nym’s voice was sharp with frustration. “We’re just watching them walk around. That doesn’t help us find Bellatrix.”
“It helps us understand their defenses,” Harry said patiently. “Their patrol patterns. Their numbers. All information we need before we attack.”
“But she might not even be here!” Nym’s control was slipping, her voice rising slightly.
“Keep your voice down,” Harry said firmly. “Sound carries.”
Nym took a breath, visibly trying to calm herself. But the tension didn’t leave her body. If anything, it seemed to intensify as they continued watching.
Another hour passed. The sun began its descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds. Harry noted every detail. Guard changes, supply deliveries, the occasional burst of magical energy from inside the manor that suggested active spellwork.
But no sign of Bellatrix. No wild black hair or distinctive cackle. If she was inside, she was staying well hidden.
Nym grew more agitated with each passing minute. Her breathing quickened. Her fingers drummed against her thigh in a nervous rhythm. Harry could see the war playing out inside her, patience versus fury.
“Nym,” he said quietly.
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the manor with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
“Nym,” Harry repeated, reaching out to touch her arm.
She flinched at the contact, her head snapping around to face him. For a moment, Harry saw something dangerous in her eyes. Something wild and barely controlled.
“We’ll get her,” Harry said, keeping his voice calm and steady. “I promise you that. But we need to be smart about it.”
“Smart,” Nym repeated, the word bitter on her tongue. “While she’s in there, probably planning her next attack. Probably laughing about what she did to Molly and Remus. To my Mum!”
“I know what you’re feeling,” Harry said. “Believe me, I understand wanting revenge.”
“She killed people I cared about, Harry. People who mattered to me. And I’m just supposed to sit here and watch?”
“You’re supposed to stay disciplined,” Harry replied. “Rushing in angry gets you killed. Gets all of us killed.”
Nym looked like she wanted to argue, but Fleur spoke up before she could.
“Harry is right,” Fleur said softly. “They deserve the worst for what they have done. But charging in without a plan will only get us captured or worse.”
Nym’s jaw clenched. She looked back at the manor, her hands balling into fists. Harry could see the internal struggle playing out. Finally, she let out a shaky breath.
“I need to go back,” she said abruptly. “If I stay here much longer, I’m going to do something stupid.”
Harry frowned. That wasn’t ideal, but he understood. Nym’s emotional state was compromised. Keeping her here would only increase the risk of her doing exactly what she feared.
“It’s a tactical withdrawal,” Harry said carefully. “Recognizing your limits and acting accordingly. That shows good judgment.”
Nym gave him a look that suggested she wasn’t buying his attempt at reassurance. But she nodded. “I’ll head back to Grimmauld Place. Keep watch there while you two finish here.”
“Stay under the disillusionment until you’re well clear of the area,” Harry instructed. “Multiple apparition jumps, same as we used getting here.”
“I know the protocols,” Nym said, her voice tight.
She stood, moving carefully to avoid making noise. Harry watched as she made her way back down the hill, her disillusioned form barely visible even to his trained eyes. Within moments she’d disappeared entirely, presumably heading to a safe apparition point.
Harry let out a slow breath. That had been close. Nym’s control was hanging by a thread, and having her snap at the wrong moment would have been disastrous.
“She is hurting,” Fleur observed quietly.
“She is,” Harry agreed. “And I understand that. But hurt can’t compromise operations. The moment emotions override tactics, people die.”
“You are very pragmatic about this,” Fleur said. There was no judgment in her voice, just observation.
“I have to be. Someone needs to stay focused on the bigger picture.” Harry turned his attention back to the manor. “Emotions are useful. They motivate us, drive us to fight. But they can’t be allowed to dictate our actions. Not in something this important.”
Fleur shifted closer to him, her shoulder brushing against his. The contact was warm even through their clothing.
“And what about your emotions?” she asked. “You say Nym cannot let hers control her actions. But what about you?”
Harry considered the question. “I compartmentalize. Keep what I’m feeling separate from what I’m doing. It’s a skill you learn when you can’t afford to fall apart.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“Sometimes,” Harry admitted. “But it keeps me alive. Keeps the people I care about alive too.”
They fell silent, continuing their observation. The manor remained active, Death Eaters coming and going with increasing frequency as afternoon turned to evening.
“Whatever they are planning, it is accelerating,” Fleur noted. “Look at the pattern. More arrivals now than earlier.”
She was right. The traffic had picked up noticeably. Where before they’d seen individual Death Eaters arriving sporadically, now they came in pairs or small groups. The urgency was palpable even from this distance.
“Something’s changed,” Harry said. “They’re mobilizing.”
“The Diagon Alley attack?”
“Maybe. Or our actions with Greyback spooked them more than we thought. They might be preparing for retaliation.”
Harry pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and began sketching the manor layout from memory. He noted entrances, ward positions, patrol routes, everything they’d observed. When he finished, he tucked the notebook away securely.
“We should stay longer,” Fleur suggested. “See if Bellatrix shows herself.”
Harry shook his head. “We’ve been here for hours. The longer we stay, the greater the risk of detection. We’ve got what we came for. Intel on their defenses and confirmation that this is an active base.”
“But not Bellatrix herself.”
“She may not even be using this place anymore,” Harry said. “Greyback’s information was several days old. She could have moved.”
Fleur frowned but didn’t argue. She knew he was right. They’d pushed their luck far enough for one day.
“Come on,” Harry said. “Let’s get out of here while we still can.”
They withdrew carefully, retracing their path down the hill and back toward their apparition point. Harry kept his senses extended, alert for any sign they’d been detected. But the wards remained quiet, and no alarm was raised.
Once they’d put sufficient distance between themselves and the manor, Harry called a halt.
“We’ll wait here for a bit,” he said. “Make sure we weren’t followed before apparating.”
They settled into a small clearing, still under their disillusionment charms. The sun had fully set now, darkness creeping across the countryside. Stars began appearing overhead, scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet.
“It is beautiful out here,” Fleur said softly. “Peaceful.”
“Hard to believe there’s a war going on,” Harry agreed. He leaned back against a tree, letting some of the tension drain from his muscles. “Moments like this, you can almost forget.”
“Almost,” Fleur echoed. She moved to sit beside him, close enough that he could feel her warmth. “But not quite.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Harry found himself relaxing despite the circumstances. There was something about Fleur’s presence that soothed him. Maybe it was her veela heritage, or maybe it was just her.
“We should talk,” Fleur said eventually. “About what happened before. About us.”
Harry turned to look at her, though in the darkness and under the disillusionment charms he could barely make out her outline. “Alright. What did you want to say?”
“I want to know where we stand,” Fleur said. “What this is between us. Because I feel something, Harry. Something strong. And I think you do too.”
Harry considered his words carefully. This conversation mattered, and he didn’t want to mess it up. “I do feel something. You’re important to me, Fleur. More than I expected when this all started.”
“But?” Fleur prompted.
“But nothing,” Harry said. “No buts. I care about you. I want you in my life. The question is what you want from me.”
“I want you,” Fleur said simply. “In whatever way you will have me. I know your situation is complicated. Daphne, Susan, the others. I understand that.”
“You’d be okay with that?” Harry asked. “Sharing?”
“It is not ideal,” Fleur admitted. “In an ideal world, I would have you all to myself. But this is not an ideal world. And I would rather have part of you than none of you at all.”
Harry reached out, finding her hand in the darkness. Their fingers intertwined, and he felt her squeeze gently.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry said. “Any of you. But I can’t promise exclusivity.”
“I know,” Fleur said. “And I accept that. What matters to me is that you care. That you are honest with me. That when we are together, you are present.”
“I can promise all of that,” Harry said.
Fleur shifted closer, and suddenly her lips were on his. The kiss was soft at first, exploratory. Harry responded, his free hand coming up to cup her face. The disillusionment charms shimmered around them as they moved, but neither cared.
The kiss deepened. Fleur’s tongue traced his lower lip, seeking entrance, and Harry granted it eagerly. Their tongues met and danced, tasting each other with growing hunger.
Harry’s hand slid from her face down to her neck, feeling her pulse racing beneath his fingertips. Fleur made a soft sound of pleasure, pressing closer against him.
They broke apart for air, both breathing heavily. Harry could feel Fleur’s heart pounding where their chests pressed together.
“We should not do this here,” Fleur whispered, though she made no move to pull away. “It is too dangerous.”
“You’re right,” Harry agreed. But instead of releasing her, he captured her lips again.
This kiss was hungrier, more demanding. Fleur’s hands found his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. Harry’s own hands roamed, one tangling in her silky hair while the other slid down her back to rest at the curve of her waist.
Fleur pulled back slightly, her breathing ragged. “Harry,” she murmured against his lips.
“I know,” Harry said. “We need to stop.”
“In a moment,” Fleur said, and kissed him again.
Harry’s hand at her waist tightened, pulling her more firmly against him. He could feel every curve of her body pressed to his, warm and soft and perfect. Desire coiled hot in his gut, urging him to take this further.
But he forced himself to maintain control. This wasn’t the time or place. They were in hostile territory, barely concealed, with Death Eaters less than a mile away. Letting lust override caution would be monumentally stupid.
Still, he allowed himself another minute of kissing her. Of feeling her respond to his touch. Of losing himself in the taste and scent and warmth of her.
His hand slid from her waist down to her hip, fingers pressing into the soft flesh through her clothing. Fleur gasped against his mouth, her hips rolling forward instinctively. Harry groaned at the friction, his arousal evident now.
“Harry,” Fleur breathed, her hands sliding up his chest to curl around his shoulders. “We really must stop.”
“I know,” Harry said, but his lips were already trailing down her jaw to her neck. He found her pulse point and sucked gently, drawing a moan from Fleur that went straight to his cock.
Fleur’s head fell back, giving him better access. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on her neck, alternating between kisses and gentle bites that made her shudder.
Harry’s hand at her hip moved lower, cupping her arse and squeezing. Fleur’s breath hitched, and she ground against him more deliberately. The friction was maddening, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll her onto her back and take what they both clearly wanted.
“Fleur,” he groaned against her skin. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”
“Then let us not stop,” Fleur whispered. “Just for a moment. Please.”
Harry’s control wavered. His hand tightened on her arse, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. Fleur whimpered, rolling her hips again in a slow grind that had them both gasping.
But somewhere in the back of Harry’s mind, reason still existed. They were exposed. Vulnerable. One wrong move and they’d be discovered. And if that happened, everything they’d worked for would be at risk.
With enormous effort, Harry pulled back. He rested his forehead against Fleur’s, both of them breathing hard.
“We can’t,” he said quietly. “Not here. Not now.”
Fleur made a sound of pure frustration but nodded. “I know. You are right. But I am going to hold you to finishing this later.”
“Absolutely,” Harry promised with a breathless laugh.
They separated slowly, both reluctant to lose the contact. Harry took a moment to center himself, willing his arousal to subside. Fleur did the same, her breathing gradually returning to normal.
“There is something I should tell you,” Fleur said after a moment. “About my veela heritage.”
“I’m listening,” Harry said.
“Veela bond strongly with their chosen partners,” Fleur explained. “Once we give ourselves to someone, truly give ourselves, it becomes difficult to separate. Not impossible, but difficult. Our magic recognizes the bond and reinforces it.”
“Is that a warning?” Harry asked.
“It is information,” Fleur corrected. “So you understand what you are getting into. If we take this further, if we become lovers in truth, my veela side will consider you mine. It will want to protect you, to be near you. And it can be quite possessive.”
“I can handle possessive,” Harry said. “As long as you understand I can’t be exclusive.”
“I do understand,” Fleur said. “And I will work to control my veela instincts. But you should know they will be there. Especially if I see you with others.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Harry said. “Together.”
Fleur squeezed his hand. “I am glad we talked about this. It feels good to be honest.”
“Honesty is important,” Harry agreed. “Especially with everything else being so complicated.”
They sat together for a while longer, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Eventually Harry checked his watch, noting how much time had passed.
“We should head back,” he said reluctantly. “The others will be wondering where we are.”
“And we have much to report,” Fleur added.
They stood, brushing off their clothes. Harry performed one final check of their surroundings, making absolutely certain they hadn’t been followed or detected. Everything remained quiet.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready,” Fleur confirmed.
They apparated together, making the multiple jumps Harry had insisted on. First to a neutral location, then to another, and finally to the apparition point near Grimmauld Place.
XXXXX
Amelia Bones sat behind her desk at the Ministry, reviewing the latest security reports with a critical eye. The numbers weren’t encouraging. Auror resources were stretched thin, and the recent attacks had left everyone on edge.
A knock at her door interrupted her concentration.
“Come in,” she called.
Rufus Scrimgeour entered, his grizzled features set in a perpetual scowl. The newly appointed Head of the DMLE carried himself with military precision, every movement economical and purposeful.
“Minister,” he greeted, his voice gravelly.
“Rufus,” Amelia replied. “What’s the status on those security deployments?”
“In progress,” Scrimgeour said, settling into the chair across from her. “We’ve increased patrols in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Dawlish is coordinating the rotation schedules.”
John Dawlish had been promoted to Head Auror following Scrimgeour’s elevation. Competent, if somewhat lacking in imagination, but solid where it counted.
“How long until everything’s in place?” Amelia asked.
Scrimgeour grimaced. “Two days at least. Maybe three. We need to coordinate with local authorities, establish communication protocols, brief the teams on threat assessments.”
“That’s too long,” Amelia said flatly.
“Minister, I understand the urgency, but we can’t rush this. Sloppy deployment leads to gaps in coverage, which leads to casualties.”
“And delayed deployment leads to attacks we could have prevented,” Amelia countered. “I need this done in twenty four hours, Rufus.”
Scrimgeour’s scowl deepened. “That’s not realistic.”
“Make it realistic,” Amelia said, her voice brooking no argument. “Pull additional resources if you need to. Deputize experienced volunteers. But I want those patrols active by this time tomorrow.”
Scrimgeour studied her for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “It’ll be tight, but I can make it work. Dawlish won’t be happy.”
“Dawlish doesn’t need to be happy. He needs to be effective.” Amelia leaned back in her chair. “What about intelligence? Any new information on Death Eater movements?”
“Nothing concrete,” Scrimgeour admitted. “But there’s been increased activity around known sympathizer locations. More owl traffic, more late night meetings. They’re planning something.”
“Any idea what?”
“If I had to guess? A major attack to demonstrate they’re still a threat. Greyback’s death rattled them. They’ll want to show strength.”
“Which is exactly why we need those patrols in place,” Amelia said. “We can’t give them any easy targets.”
“Agreed.” Scrimgeour stood. “I’ll get started on the deployments immediately. You’ll have your patrols by tomorrow evening.”
“Thank you, Rufus.”
After Scrimgeour left, Amelia spent another hour reviewing reports and signing off on various administrative matters. Finally, she decided she’d done enough for the day. The rest could wait until morning.
She apparated directly to Grimmauld Place, emerging in the entrance hall. Voices drifted from deeper in the house, accompanied by the sound of spellfire.
Following the noise, Amelia found herself at the entrance to the training room. Inside, Susan, Daphne, Hannah, Astoria, and Tracey were engaged in what looked like a brutal practice session. Evelyn stood to one side, calling out corrections and encouragement.
What caught Amelia’s attention immediately was the presence of Tonks. She stood among the other girls, her hair its usual vibrant pink, working through a complicated series of shield variations.
Amelia felt a flicker of surprise. She’d expected Tonks to still be out on reconnaissance with Harry.
Evelyn noticed her arrival and called a halt to the training. The girls lowered their wands, most of them breathing heavily from exertion.
“Amelia,” Evelyn greeted with a slight smile. “Good timing. We were just about to wrap up.”
“Aunt Amelia,” Susan said, her face flushed from exertion. “How was work?”
“Exhausting,” Amelia admitted. She turned to Tonks. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you were scouting with Harry.”
Tonks’ expression flickered with something Amelia couldn’t quite identify. Frustration? Anger? “I was. Had to come back early.”
Evelyn caught Amelia’s eye and gave a subtle shake of her head. Not here. Not now.
Amelia understood.
“Alright,” Evelyn said simply. “Tonks, you have everything under control here?”
“Yeah,” Tonks said. “I’m good. Just needed to work off some energy.”
“Well, you’re all looking excellent,” Amelia said, addressing the group. “I can see the improvement from even a few days ago. Your casting are better, your spell selection more strategic. Keep this up and you’ll be ready for anything.”
Susan beamed at the praise. Daphne looked satisfied. Hannah, Tracey, and Astoria exchanged pleased glances.
“Thank you, Amelia,” Daphne said. “We’ve been working hard.”
“It shows,” Evelyn said. “Now, I need to borrow Amelia for a bit. The rest of you should probably clean up and get some rest.”
The girls began gathering their things, chattering amongst themselves about the day’s practice. Evelyn moved to join Amelia, and together they made their way back toward the living area of the house.
Once they were alone in one of the sitting rooms, Amelia turned to Evelyn with a questioning look.
“Tonks came back early because she couldn’t maintain her composure,” Evelyn explained. “She said she was getting too agitated. Too focused on revenge rather than the mission.”
Amelia frowned but nodded in understanding. “That was probably wise. Better to recognize the issue and withdraw than let it compromise the operation.”
“Her thoughts exactly,” Evelyn agreed. She settled into one of the comfortable armchairs, gesturing for Amelia to do the same. “So. How are things at the Ministry?”
“Busy,” Amelia said, taking her own seat. “I’ve got Scrimgeour deploying additional security to high-risk areas. Should be in place within twenty-four hours.”
“That’s fast work.”
“It needs to be.”
They spent the next few minutes discussing logistics and strategy. Evelyn offered insights from her own considerable experience, and Amelia found herself grateful for the perspective.
Eventually, the conversation turned to the training progress.
“They really have improved remarkably,” Amelia said. “Susan especially. She’s always been talented, but now she’s starting to think tactically.”
“Harry’s influence,” Evelyn said. “He pushes them to consider not just what spells to use, but when and why. Context matters as much as power.”
“He’s an excellent teacher,” Amelia agreed. “Among other things.”
Evelyn’s expression turned knowing. “Yes. Among other things.”
A silence fell between them. Amelia could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, Evelyn broke it.
“We should probably address the elephant in the room,” Evelyn said.
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Which elephant would that be?”
“Your interest in Harry,” Evelyn said bluntly.
Amelia felt heat creeping into her cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Evelyn’s smile was gentle but knowing. “Come now, Amelia. We’re both adults here. I’ve seen the way you look at him. The way you respond to him.”
Amelia wanted to deny it. To maintain her professional distance and pretend the attraction didn’t exist. But Evelyn had called her out directly, and lying seemed pointless.
“Alright,” she admitted. “Yes. I find him attractive. Is that really so surprising?”
“Not at all,” Evelyn said. “Harry is quite remarkable. Powerful, intelligent, driven. And if I may say so, rather handsome. It would be more surprising if you weren’t attracted to him.”
“But he’s young,” Amelia protested. “And involved with multiple women already. Getting entangled in that would be monumentally stupid.”
“Would it?” Evelyn asked. “Or would it be exactly what you need?”
Amelia frowned. “What do you mean?”
Evelyn leaned forward slightly. “When was the last time you had something for yourself, Amelia? Not for the Ministry, not for the greater good, but just for you? When did you last allow yourself to simply feel without worrying about the political implications?”
The question hit harder than expected. Amelia found herself struggling to remember. Years, certainly. Decades.
“That’s what I thought,” Evelyn said softly. “You’ve been alone for so long, dedicated to your duty. There’s honor in that. But there’s also a cost.”
“I’m the Minister of Magic,” Amelia said. “I can’t afford distractions.”
“Is that what you think Harry would be? A distraction?” Evelyn shook her head. “From where I’m sitting, he’s been an asset. His intelligence has proven invaluable. His actions have eliminated threats the Ministry couldn’t touch. He’s made you stronger, not weaker.”
Amelia couldn’t argue with that. Harry had indeed proven himself an ally worth having.
“I understand your hesitation,” Evelyn continued. “Believe me, I do. I struggled with similar concerns when I first became involved with Harry.”
Amelia’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Evelyn confirmed without shame. “Like Susan, I was to be involved along with my daughters and Tracey in addition to the others. It’s an unconventional arrangement, I grant you. But it works for us.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Amelia asked. “Sharing him?”
“I didn’t expect it to happen,” Evelyn admitted. “And I’m not going to pretend it was easy to accept, being with the man who was supposed to marry my daughter. But I’ve come to see the benefits. Harry cares for each of us in our own way. We support each other. And there’s a strength in our unity that wouldn’t exist otherwise.”
Amelia found herself intrigued despite her reservations. “And you think I would fit into this arrangement?”
“I think you already do,” Evelyn said. “You’ve been working closely with Harry. Fighting alongside him. Trusting him with your life and your niece’s safety. The foundation is already there.”
Amelia sat back, her mind whirling. This conversation had taken a turn she hadn’t anticipated.
“I need to think about this,” she said finally.
“Of course,” Evelyn said. “Take all the time you need. But while you’re thinking, consider this. Harry has plans for the future of Wizarding Britain. Big plans that go beyond simply defeating Voldemort.”
“Those are ambitious plans,” Amelia said. “And also incredibly difficult.”
“Which is why he’ll need allies in positions of power,” Evelyn said meaningfully. “People who share his vision and have the authority to implement it.”
Amelia saw where this was going. “You’re suggesting a partnership. Political as well as personal.”
“I’m suggesting you could have both,” Evelyn corrected. “Your niece is already involved with Harry. That connection gives you a vested interest in his success. Why not make it official? Join in properly. Help shape the future he’s building.”
It was a compelling argument. Amelia had dedicated her life to improving magical society. The opportunity to do so alongside someone as capable as Harry, with the full support of his organization, was tempting.
“And the personal aspect?” Amelia asked.
Evelyn’s smile turned knowing. “Harry is an exceptional lover. Attentive, skilled, and genuinely invested in his partners’ pleasure. He makes you feel seen, valued, desired. It’s been a very long time since anyone made me feel that way.”
Amelia felt heat pooling low in her belly at the description. She tried to push it down, to maintain her composure, but Evelyn’s words had struck a chord.
“He’s also caring,” Evelyn continued. “Protective of those he considers his. You’ve seen that already. The way he fought to save you during the werewolf attack. That wasn’t just tactical. That was personal.”
Amelia remembered the moment vividly. Harry abandoning his duel with Greyback to intercept the werewolf that had been about to tear her apart. The fierce determination in his eyes as he’d saved her.
“I’m not saying you have to decide right now,” Evelyn said. “But think about it. Really think about what you want, not just what you think you should want.”
Before Amelia could respond, the door to the sitting room opened. Harry and Fleur entered, both looking slightly disheveled from their reconnaissance mission.
Harry’s eyes found Amelia immediately. “Amelia. Good, you’re here. We need to talk.”
The firmness in his voice made Amelia sit up straighter. “What happened?”
“The manor’s active,” Harry said. “Very active. We counted dozens of Death Eaters coming and going over a few hours. They’re organizing something big.”
“The Diagon Alley attack?” Amelia asked.
“Could be,” Harry said. “Could be something else too. The level of activity suggests major coordination. Whatever they’re planning, it’s happening soon.”
Fleur moved to stand beside Evelyn. “The wards around the manor are extensive. Multiple layers, recent construction. Breaking through them would alert everyone inside immediately.”
“So a stealth approach is out,” Amelia said.
“For now,” Harry agreed. “We need more information before we can plan an assault. But the increased activity is concerning. They’re mobilizing for something, and we need to figure out what before it’s too late.”
Amelia stood, her mind already racing through implications. “I’ll contact Scrimgeour. Have him expand the security deployments to more hotspots. We covered Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, but maybe we should fortify Godric’s Hollow as well. If the Death Eaters are preparing a major operation, we need to be ready to counter it.”
“Good,” Harry said. “In the meantime, I’ll work on analyzing what we observed. Try to identify patterns or clues about their intentions.”
“We should also consider setting up our own surveillance,” Evelyn suggested. “Rotating teams watching the manor. That way we can track their movements more comprehensively.”
“That’s risky,” Harry said. “But might be necessary if we want real time intelligence.”
The conversation continued, plans forming and reforming as they discussed options. But through it all, Amelia found her attention drawn back to Harry. The way he commanded the room without seeming to try. The confidence in his bearing. The sharp intelligence in his eyes.
Evelyn’s words echoed in her mind. Partnership. Political and personal. The opportunity to build something new alongside someone truly remarkable.
She had a lot to think about.
But first, they had a war to fight.
To be continued...