Muggle Summer
A/N: This chapter starts us down what will be another very long day (both to describe and to live through). It's a little short, but I wanted to keep the updates going on this story even as I try to finish up Gladiator. This break also keeps the fluffy/funny parts separate from the action/adventure parts to come. A special thanks to chemprof for offering his opinions and reassurances on the first part of this chapter.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 49: Pensieved Longings and Plugged-up Loos
Saturday , July 7, 6:00am
Queen's Wizard's Quarters
Buckingham Palace, London
Harry Potter's internal alarm clock ignored the previous night's decision to turn off its electronic counterpart and pulled the Queen's Wizard into consciousness a good three hours before he wanted. Harry sighed as he glanced at the electronic alarm, careful not to disturb Hermione from her present position (head on his chest, arm and leg draped over his torso). He smiled as she snuggled against him, and pulled the covers up just enough to make the warm cocoon complete.
Harry knew that he ought to try to go back to sleep; they had pulled an all-nighter preparing for Malfoy's capture and relied too much on caffeine and pepper-up the day before. But with Hermione cuddled up against him in their warm safe bed, he found it impossible to push away all of the memories, thoughts and fears that came with having Hermione as his girlfriend/consort. Most of those thoughts were the type that old men cling to and cherish as they look back upon their lives…their first "more-than-just-friends" kiss, their first shared bath, their first snag…
Harry chuckled at the term he had invented. It was wonderfully ambiguous term that aptly described their current physical relationship. Hermione and he still joked about the "three date rule," but neither of them had felt ready to take that final step. At least not just yet. They had tried to talk about "it" and when "it" should occur, but never really reached any conclusions. While neither had any serious moral objections to premarital shagging, they both thought there was something romantic and special about saving that act for a wedding night. Which brought out thoughts of weddings and engagements, and whether they were too young and had been a couple for too short a time to be even thinking about it. That was a related, and no less important, can of worms.
And then there were the Grangers. Living under the same roof as your girlfriend's parents could have been very intimidating, but they had been amazingly supportive and trusting, right from the start. Almost too trusting, Harry thought…her dad had essentially given him permission to share a bed with his daughter on Privet Drive (almost asked Harry to, if you interpreted that conversation a certain way). And once they moved to the Round Tower and stayed either there or at Buckingham? Complete acceptance.
Last night had been a good example. The four of them had ridden in the van that had dumped Malfoy in front of the Rookery just before midnight. After hanging around for an hour to make sure Lucius did not do something unexpected, they called it a night. Rather than drive back to Windsor, or wake Sir Evan for a badge-jump, Hermione's parents asked if they could crash at "his" place at the Palace. It was taken "as read" that the Granger's would stay in the guest bedroom while Hermione and he shared the master. Mrs. Granger even gave them a goodnight kiss and orders to "sleep tight" before they turned in for the night.
Harry sighed, realizing that with Mr. And Mrs. Granger sleeping next door that Hermione would want to be cautious that morning, which was too bad, since he was definitely in the mood for some fun. Not fair really, since her parents didn't seem to always share that concern. He smiled as he recalled the "bedroom wall" incident, and that got him thinking about silencing spells, and their walk-in closet, and Hermione's knickers, and the time she left them behind…
He snorted at the thought of what Ron and his friends would think if he were the type to kiss and tell (or given that he was a teen-aged male, "shag and brag"). Harry doubted that anyone would be surprised that Hermione was still a virgin, but if they knew just how comfortable she'd become around him without clothing, or how randy she romped within her comfort zone, their toes would probably curl.
The day she went commando was a prime example. First day on the job working for the Prime Minister at 10 Downing Street and she does that? Worse still, she let Harry know she was doing it? It was all he could do not to jump her as soon as she got back from work. But she resisted, and told him that he needed to wait until after they watched a memory of her first day.
Since that was the day she had arranged for the Death Eater bank accounts to be frozen, Harry had expected that she'd be showing him the pensieved memory of her meeting with the Chief Cashier of the Bank of England. But instead, she surprised him with a string of seemingly random events (for example, her introduction to another staff member, a walk up the stairs, her first sit behind her new desk, and a shared lunch with the Chief-of-Staff). Harry wasn't able to piece together the puzzle once they'd been pulled out of the pensieve, so it was up to Hermione to explain. Each of the scenes were situations where visual proof of her commando status was available, if only somebody had been properly positioned and had known to look. She then gave Harry a wide smile and asked if he wanted to review the memory again.
Harry never would have thought that almost-shagging could be so much fun. And hot. And satisfying.
The memory of reviewing that memory was enough to distract his full bladder and give him a different reason to be aroused. It was while he was trying to quietly take care of this "problem" that Hermione woke up.
"What are you doing, Harry?" she asked, using her very best sleepy-sexy-coy voice.
He froze.
"Erm…thinking of you," Harry replied with embarrassment. He then recovered quickly enough to ask, "Want to help?"
Hermione groaned. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry, but now's not…I'm feeling a bit off."
Harry thought for a moment and then nodded. "Sorry, I should have remembered that it wasn't a good time of the month."
That comment caused Hermione to wake up in a hurry. "What?" she asked. "How did you know…I mean…we weren't that intimate a month ago, were we?"
Harry chuckled. "No we weren't."
"Then how?"
"Well, I could say it was the only logical reason why you wore a nightgown and the most conservative pair of knickers to bed last night."
"You could, but that's not it, huh?"
Harry shook his head. "The fact is, I've, erm…I've known the timing of your monthly cycles for a couple of years now."
"What?"
"Is that a bad thing?"
Looking somewhat aghast, Hermione replied, "What reason would you have had for knowing that sort of thing about me…before now?"
Harry chuckled. "Hermione, it wasn't information that I went out searching for, it's just something I came to know over time." He pulled her into a hug, kissed her temple, and added, "Might have something to do with the fact that for the past six years I've shared most of my classes, all of my meals and most of my free time with you."
"And just what did you do with this knowledge, Mr. Potter?"
"Besides knowing when to make extra efforts to keep Ron from annoying you?"
Hermione scowled playfully as she pushed his shoulder away. "Yes, you git."
Harry shook his head and smiled. "Dunno…don't think I ever made a point of it…maybe gave you a bit more room, and bit my tongue a bit more…"
With her face covered with her hands, she sighed, "Merlin, Harry…we are such the old couple."
"Don't say that, Hermione," Harry asked. "It'll mean we can't enjoy our youthful wild sides."
"Why?" Hermione asked. "Can't you have wild sides when you get older?"
Harry snickered. "Well I suppose so, if we use your parents as example." He then made it a point to look towards the guest bedroom. "Which reminds me, did you cast a silencing spell on their walls last night?"
Hermione threw her pillow at Harry's head. "Oh, you are terrible." She then grabbed her wand from the nightstand, threw off the covers and said, "I'm going to take a shower."
Harry gave her a pained look. "What, and leave me here all excited?"
Hermione snorted. "I thought you were supposed to be the understanding boyfriend sensitive to his girlfriend's condition?"
"I am," Harry protested. "But as you can see, my, erm…"condition" here…"
Hermione laughed …he really was cute, and thoughtful, and amazing. But that didn't change just how icky she felt right then.
An idea sprung to mind.
"Hold that thought, but don't hold anything else just yet," she ordered.
Not waiting for a response, she left the bedroom, only to return a half-minute later with the pensieve.
"I've got another memory for you," she coyly said, as she set the rune-covered bowl onto the bed.
Harry gave her a confused look.
Hermione smiled and explained, "It's something I didn't show you from commando day."
"Really?" Harry said with interest. "And just what will I see?"
She smiled. "Me, alone in my new office, while I…what were you doing just now, when I woke up?"
"Erm… thinking of you?"
"Ah, yes. I was in my office, thinking of you."
Harry's eyes lit up as he rushed to the bathroom for some necessary business. He returned with a rather wanton look of anticipation on his face as Hermione placed the memory thread into the bowl.
Harry was about to dive in when he reached over and grabbed her hand.
"Would you like to join me?"
Hermione tilted her head in thought. "You want me to watch myself?"
Harry shrugged. "You could always watch me while I watch the memory of you."
She raised an eyebrow. "And just what will I see while I watch you?"
Harry grinned. "More thinking, I imagine."
Hermione frowned a bit. "I'm still feeling off, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I know, but maybe…maybe when you leave your body behind and mentally jump into the pensieve, you might not feel so bad?"
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "I've never thought about that before…are you suggesting that I could project an avatar that would feel different from how I'm feeling right now?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "One way to find out…why don't you idealize how you would like to be feeling right before you jump?"
"Okay," Hermione replied.
"Oh, and maybe your avatar wouldn't have to be wearing the same clothes?"
Hermione smiled as she raised her night-gown high enough to expose her knickers. "What, you don't like my mollypants?"
Harry's face pruned up and he shivered. "Oi, Hermione, that's not an image I want in my head right now."
"Well, then," she replied. "we best be making sure something better is in its place." And after a clearly formed thought was in her head, she dived into the pensieve.
They emerged fifteen minutes later with proof that avatars didn't need clothing and didn't get cramps.
+++
9:30am
19 Pennywell Road, Bristol
As he navigated a roundabout a few blocks away from the Bristol safe house, Augustus Rookwood let out a sigh of relief.. The fuel indicator needle had been hovering dangerously over "E" for the past thirty kilometers, and he'd not had enough muggle cash to stop for a refill. Now that he had made it that far, the Death Eaters at the safe house would have more than enough muggle funds to fill his Cooper's petrol tank (so long as they hadn't wasted it on take-away meals and muggle beer).
The thought of what he would find at the safe house on Pennywell Road was enough to raise his stress levels all on its own. The somewhat shabby row house was one of the four Death Eater hide-outs within the muggle world that was under his control and command. While Rookwood would have liked to think that this responsibility was a reflection of the Dark Lord's trust, he was smart enough to know that it had more to do with his automobile, and the fact that he understood the muggle world better than any other Death Eater.
Few knew his dirty little secret, and fewer still could reconcile that knowledge with his pure-blooded bigotry and disdain for the muggle world. As an Auror during the start of the First War, he had volunteered for "muggle training" at his Master's command, and quickly moved up the ranks within the Oblivator Squads responsible for mopping-up after Death Eater attacks. Rookwood's cunning and expertise when it came to sanitizing muggle incidents led to his recruitment by the Unspeakable Department. They had their own ideas on muggle training, and it involved throwing its recruits off the deep end and seeing if they could swim.
For the first six months as an Unspeakable he lived without using his wand. He held a job as a low-level bureaucrat within the muggle government, inhabited a muggle flat, and lived as muggles lived. It was horrible, but instructive, and good preparation for his Unspeakable Department assignment as an intelligence agent, responsible for following the actions of the muggle government and its military. He held this post through the end of the First War, and even managed to hold on to it when it became necessary to use the Imperius Curse defense to keep him from Azkaban Prison.
Rookwood's relative ease within the muggle world had proven itself vital to Voldemort in the days immediately after their defeat that previous month. It was his knowledge that kept the four muggle safe houses secret, and at least semi-inhabitable. This was no small feat, given that the thirty to forty Death Eaters that were hiding in these locations started with almost no clues on how muggle things worked. He had been forced to become an instructor of "Remedial Muggle Studies," with practical lessons on everything from train schedules to the proper use of soap. Learn quick or starve was proper motivation for most, and three of the four safe houses were now able to operate mostly on their own. But then there was Bristol…the house where all of the stupid ones stayed.
It seemed like he was there every other day fixing one crisis or another. And still they hadn't learned. It was that very reason why he was driving there that day…while the other Death Eaters could be trusted to use muggle trains and buses to get to their assigned posts by nightfall, Rookwood would be ferrying this crew to their spots by himself, traveling three at a time in his Cooper.
The former Unspeakable got his hopes up as he drove past the safe house, for its exterior displayed no obvious signs of something being off. But then he turned into the alleyway behind the house, and came upon a wizard in Death Eater robes who was relieving himself against the back of the building.
He swore, quickly parked the car, and looked up and down the street to see if there was any immediate threats. Seeing none, he leapt out and began to berate He-who-Had-no-Brains.
"Oy, Carrow, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"
Amycus Carrow jerked his head in surprise, throwing his aim off enough to get his left shoe wet. "Sorry, guv'nor," the Death Eater replied, "I'll be right there."
"Put it away, you idiot, and get inside!"
"Right, guv'nor, almost done, guv'nor."
Rookwood grabbed Amycus by the hood (at least the fool had left his mask inside), and pulled him up the back stairs as he tried to fasten his fly. A slight, but noticeable odor of excrement greeted him as he crossed the threshold into the house's kitchen. He slammed the younger Carrow down onto a kitchen chair and continued his dressing down.
"You sorry excuse for a wizard, what made you think it was okay to empty your bladder in a public alleyway?"
"I checked nobody was looking first," Amycus explained.
"And the chance that somebody would come upon you with your wand out…somebody, like say, erm…me?"
"Didn't have a choice, guv'nor," the Death Eater explained. "That muggle toilet isn't working."
Rookwood rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Two minutes and he already had a headache on his hands. Reflexively, he opened a kitchen cabinet door and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. It was his own special stash, protected by the "childproof" cap that worked just as well against wizards. After popping a couple of pills into his hand, he pulled the least-dirty glass off of the shelf and filled it with water. The hand-written signs that he had posted on the sink and basin stood as silent testament to his plight…one sign distinguished between hot and cold faucets, a second sign gave instructions on how to turn each faucet on and off, and a third stated "To get water that is neither hot nor cold, open both faucets at the same time."
Rookwood swallowed the muggle medicine, turned back to Amycus Carrow, and asked, "So what is wrong with the toilet?"
"Dunno', guv'nor," the Death Eater replied. "We push the handle, just like you showed us, but the water just overflows and the turds don't disappear."
Augustus shook his head, and wondered whether there was time enough to hold a lesson on the proper use of a muggle plunger.
"And just what did you try and flush down the toilet, then?"
"Dunno, guv'nor," Carrow replied. "Nobody will admit to having stuffed it up."
"Of course not," Rookwood replied. He wondered whether this was the sort of thing that would justify a Cruciatus had they not been so easily tracked.
"And wearing your robes, what's that about?"
"Erm…only thing I've got that has cleaning charms applied to `em. Me sis says me muggle clothes are a bit too ripe to be worn in public."
"So you figured that you'd draw less attention to yourself by wearing your Death Eater robes?" Rookwood shouted. "Didn't I show you how to use the washing machine?"
"Erm, yeah, you did, gov'nor, but that stopped working a couple of days ago as well."
The former Unspeakable rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain within his head. He then said (almost too quiet for Carrow's liking, "Gather up the others, I've come to take you to your posts for tonight's attacks."
Amycus nodded. "Erm, any chance you can look to the toilet, guv'nor?"
Rookwood shook his head. "We'll have to leave it. It'll take me all morning to make the rounds, and then I have my own places to be."
"Right, guv'nor."
"Oh, and Amycus," the former Unspeakable said, "Slight change of plans. You and your dear sister will be with me tonight."
"Why's that, guv'nor?" Carrow asked.
"Because," Rookwood replied coldly, "we need to be making a social call in London."
+++
A/N (postscript): Lady Starlight has already pointed out in a review of "Sweat of a Gladiator" that you bring your body with you when you jump into a canon pensieve. I much prefer my AU pensieve, and the idea that there's some type of mental projection involved in which a viewer leaves their unconscious body behind (easier to explain things like the ability to breathe while inside the memory).
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