Harry had returned home to Ginny a few hours later, the wizard heading into the sitting room. It was late, and Ginny was sitting curled up on a couch reading a novel.
Wisely, before leaving Luna's, Harry had let her use some charms and potions she found in an ancient Scottish witch's diary. It left him refreshed and smelling a little of witch-hazel, sparkling clean.
"Hey honey." Hey said, swallowing nervously. Ginny looked up at him with a stretch and a yawn. "Oh, relax Harry." She said, standing and throwing her arms around him for a kiss. "I'm not mad. My choice, remember?" She let him relax in her arms. "But you'll need to get comfortable with this if you want it to continue." Ginny said soothingly. Harry felt his anxiety swoop in again. "No, not like that. I just mean that... it's important you accept I like this. If you don't want to continue, I don't mind. If you do, then I don't want to feel like I've forced you. Alright?" She said, raising his head by his chin to look at him. He stared at her bright brown eyes. Harry breathed deeply, like he was deflating himself. "Okay, I got it."
She patted him on the arm a couple of times. "Excellent. Tea?" She said, pointing her wand at a teapot and casting a refreshing charm. The pot began to gently exude steam again as it then, with a gentle rise, poured Harry a steaming mug of tea. Harry accepted it gratefully and sat on the couch, sighing. "This curse is really bothersome. I do want to get back to work." He said, rubbing his knuckle as Ginny sat next to him. She frowned at him. "Explain it to your boss. Like I keep telling you, the magical world has to deal with this stuff. More often than you'd think." Ginny brushed some of her fiery red hair out of her eyes. "Once, mum had a potion go nasty on her." Ginny snorted with laughter. "It uh... exaggerated her features. Her lips got all puffy. Like a..." she took a moment to think of the word.
"Scarlet woman?" Quipped Harry playfully. Ginny smacked him lightly on the arm after laughing. "That's the one. Anyway, you've nothing to fear. If I can ask though..." she said, adding a pause that made Harry's stomach swoop in anxiety. "Did she tire you out? I wouldn't mind a chapter of a book rather than our normal sleep routine?" Harry smiled at her and closed her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently. "I'd love that. I'll even read to you."
Things had progressed strangely normally that week. Harry's sexual appetite had sunk after his energetic evening with Luna to something more resembling normal. He'd gotten in touch with his supervisor at the Auror office and explained the situation via owl post. He'd responded quickly by Patronus, a beautiful silver sparrow gliding in through the window and tweeting at him. "1pm. My office. Don't be nervous. Or late!" Chirped the chipper voice.
Harry stepped through the office having arriven via Floo Powder. Standing hunched over a claw-footed mahogany desk was a thin, blonde-mustachioed wizard with a wry smile and deep blue eyes.
"Harry! Good to see you." He strode forward from behind the desk and took his hand, shaking it. "Good to see you too Mr Brody." He said, grinning at him. Michael Brody was his supervisor in his time at the Auror Recruitment Programme, having been in the process of assigning him to a new boss when he fell cursed. He was a quick-witted Irish wizard having moved to Britain in the past 10 years as part of an exchange programme.
"So how've you been feeling? I got your information from St Mungo's, at your request. I can see why you didn't want to go into detail." He laughed, his brow raising as he unrolled the parchment. "Poor Miss Weasley..." he tutted, bursting into laughter again when he saw Harry go beet-red. "Ah sorry Harry. We get our laughs where we can in this job. Bet it surprised you to find out Voldemort's lot weren't the only dark wizard running about eh?" He said, changing the subject with a wink.
"Yeah." He said, his skin absentmindedly caressing the scars on the back of his hand. "A lot of them are just greedy people though." Harry replied, his thoughts casually switching back to work mode. "I'm surprised how many fake potions count as Dark Magic though." Michael waved his hand dismissively. "Getting off track Harry. How can we get you back to work? Would you maybe try a stint of case-work?" He grinned suggestively. "Wouldn't be that bad, home with Ginny with only paperwork. You know those reports about... 'oh I didn't mean to hit him with a Slashing Curse, it was meant to be a Stinging Hex...' cases." Michael said, flapping his hand to imitate a mouth.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "There's a lot of those?" Michael grinned. "Backlog from the war. A lot of things went unseen to." Harry rolled his eyes. Even dead, Voldemort's touch kept lingering on his life. "Fine, I can do that." Michael did a fake kind of cheer and shook his hand. "Good lad. I'll be in touch." Harry nodded and grinned. He went to go to the fireplace, but paused. Something inside himself made him wonder. He was already in the city. Why not have lunch?
Harry grabbed some Floo Powder and stepped in, dropping it as he said aloud: "The Leaky Cauldron!" Green flames swirled around Harry as he vanished, feeling like he was whirling through a dizzying blur of different fireplaces, and confidently strode out of the fireplace to the Leaky Cauldron.
He settled himself into a seat by a window, grabbing the Daily Prophet someone had left behind. "Niffler Plague In Portsmouth!" Cried the splashy front page, with a moving image of a wizard levitating four Nifflers in the air. They were small, furry creatures that had a keen sense for gold. Harry had to admit the news being boring was nice. Tom, the owner, arrived with some butterbeer and a bowl of soup that had a shimmering surface. "Billywig wing powder. Keeps you sharp." He grinned as he clapped Harry on the shoulder and left. After the whirlwind of attention from Voldemort had passed, Harry had enjoyed a kind of good celebrity, with most people appreciating that he just wanted to be normal.
He was enjoying the soup, it did give him a kind of boost like caffeine might, but with a noticeable actual small updraft around him, gentle as a whisper. Harry eventually finished and vanished the paper as he strode out the back of the Leaky Cauldron. He tapped his wand on the familiar bricks, watching with a small smile as the bricks changed, swapped and moved to create the entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry stepped through into the brisk October breeze and headed toward the apothecary. Most people were busy with their afternoon, it being a Friday after all.
He smiled at the occasional person, even signing a young boy's broom, before he headed into the apothecary. He needed to replenish the potions set in the house. Ginny had used up a lot of their supplies trying to brew something that would make Harry feel better. He made a little note of all the things he needed, as well as some things that looked curious. Harry inspected a bowl of crawling little insects, each with a small glittering gem on its back. After gathering up an assortment of ingredients, some derived from animals, some plants, he went to have a look at a new shipment of frozen Ashwinder eggs.
"Harry?" said a slightly posh voice. He turned around to see a young witch with a bemused expression. "Oh! Hi…" he took a quick second, trying to catch her name on the tip of his tongue.
"Daphne." she said with a fake sigh of irritance. "Right. Still as nice as you were at school." Harry said, folding his arms. "I'm teasing you Harry. Good to see you're well." she said, her eyes casting a quick glance up and down at him. He felt a familiar, dark urge. It crept up on his brain as if its malevolent tendrils snaked across and up his spinal cord. His face remained impassive as he felt a shot of warmth tingle to his extremities.
"So what brings you to an apothecary?" he said impressively nonchalantly, as he fought to keep his eyes from raking her body hungrily. "I'm buying some of this." she said, holding up a violet phial. "It's the oil from the Myconard. A type of mushroom spirit. It's actually easy to find but you need to… squeeze." she said, frowning distastefully.
At the word 'squeeze', Harry felt a leap in his stomach. His mind swam to images of Ginny, occasionally peppered with shimmers of blonde hair. Whether it was Luna or Daphne, he couldn't say for sure. "A potioneer?" he said, tilting his head. He'd distracted himself by picking up one of the jeweled insects, letting it run a circle on his palm. It curled up almost instantly, and he decided that it was purchased.
"Sort of. I… well. I don't HAVE to work necessarily…" she said, trailing off. She sounded sheepish about it. Harry supposed those connected to noble houses with somewhat wavering allegiances would be considered suspect to most. Their wealth often didn't win them friends, except among the Ministry. Something that had changed as of late.
"I actually decided that I wanted to work with magical injuries. It sidetracked and… I'm a sort of physiotherapist for a local Quidditch team on the weekends. As well as trying to find something more useful to do for the world other than my name." Harry felt the curse's influence lift momentarily while he felt bad for her.
"It's hard when you don't know who you want to do." Harry nodded a little, before realising his mistake. "I mean who you want to be. I also meant to say … what you want…" Daphne laughed, though she had gone a little pink. "Oh I know. Anyway, I do have an appointment so… oh!" she said, passing him a small strip of parchment, gold-embossed. It fluttered open so he could read it. "Sports Massage By Daphne". It read, along with three little symbols of stars. "If you want to have a house call during my business hours, I swear, just throw that out the window. If I'm free I'll come back with it within 5 minutes. Assuming you still play Quidditch, and get the injuries that come with it?" she perked up her eyebrow.
Harry swallowed thickly. Right now, he felt as if a hot liquid had flushed out his insides, and was very aware of his surroundings and the clothes touching him. With a final bolt of willpower, he pocketed the paper and smiled. "I do. If I pull a hamstring, it's a deal." Harry nodded. Daphne smiled and left with her potion, as Harry quickly scooped some coins onto the shopkeeper's counter. "Oh uh… tip. Or i'll get something else next time." he said, not worrying about his change. Harry left the shop and squeezed his eyes shut in the now gusty wind. A brown leaf slapped up against his coat as he pulled it around him.
Harry stepped through a quick side-alley and turned on the spot as he drew his wand, apparating home.