Chapter Text
Harry woke up in a daze. Several parts of his body were aching, but his bollocks, most of all. Harry dragged himself up and winced when the pain in the back of his head intensified as he sat up. He looked around for the woman, but of course, she was probably long gone.
The images of her red, flowing hair and womanly curves flashed through Harry’s mind. He shook them away. The last thing he needed in his life was to be attracted to the wild, female pirate he was supposed to apprehend.
He was getting married, for Merlin’s sake.
There was a cheerful knock on his door. Harry called out to let them know it was alright to come in.
Pym stood at the door, looking quite alarmed at Harry's state.
“Mr Potter, whatever happened to you?”
Harry was momentarily confused.
“What do you mean? The pirate did this, of course.”
Pym laughed. “What pirate, sir?”
Harry closed his eyes and swore—of course, the crew didn’t remember the attack. Their memories had been wiped.
“The ship was attacked by Red Fury, Captain. I suspect that the memories of your entire crew have been wiped. If I were you, I would check the hold for any missing goods and gold,” Harry told the Captain.
“Then how come your memory has not been wiped?”
“It’s because I had a previous warning about this pirate’s methods, Pym. And I used a protection rune that prevents people from tampering with my memories.” He absently touched the small rune that Sirius had carved into the inside of his wrist.
Pym was far too worried to stand there any longer and turned on his heels to run to the hold, Harry guessed. A few minutes later, he heard the angry yells of a crew whose entire hold had probably been emptied.
Harry finally walked around the bed, putting on his glasses. Making his way to the mirror on the bathroom wall, he studied his reflection to assess the damage the witch had left on him.
He had a large purple bruise on his jaw and a few angry red scratches down his cheeks. He felt the back of his head for a bump, but there seemed to be nothing there. He also felt slight tenderness in his ribs, but he didn’t remember specifically getting hurt there. Maybe the woman had gotten a few kicks in after she’d stunned him.
All in all, Harry looked like a mess.
And his skill with healing charms was disgraceful.
Harry decided to run a bath and clean himself as best he could. Pulling on fresh clothes, he straightened his appearance to the extent possible. He was to meet his betrothed that day, after all.
He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. After a few attempts, Harry gave up. It was fruitless; his hair refused to settle and continued to stick up in five different directions.
By the time he walked out on the deck, there was a palpable silence. The crew was in no mood to greet him or talk. Pym made his way over and said, “We will be reaching in about an hour, Mr Potter. I suggest you start packing whatever belongings you have left.”
A cold shiver ran down Harry’s spine.
He rushed back to his room. Why hadn’t he thought of checking all his belongings before? He cursed aloud and pulled open the drawer where he’d kept the family jewels that his mother had sent as a wedding gift for Ginny, along with the engagement ring.
It was all gone.
“That bloody witch!”
***
Ginny was pacing in her room.
She turned at the knock on her door and spoke, “Enter.”
The door opened to reveal her ayah , Leela.
“Miss, aren’t you dressed yet?”
“Leela, could you send for my mother, please?” Ginny asked, ignoring her question. There was no way that Ginny was dressing in one of those horrid Victorian gowns that the stiff broads of London probably pranced around in. She eyed the heavy silk in disgust. “I shall be wearing one of my normal dresses. And I would like my mother to get this gown out of my sight, or I shall be burning it to bits.”
“Miss Ginny, please ,” Leela’s eyes widened at her threats.
“Leela, I want you to fetch my mother, please.”
The ayah ran away as quickly as she could. Ginny turned away from the door, making her way to her wardrobe to find one of her normal dresses to wear. She had finally decided on a green linen afternoon dress that she really liked and was pulling it out when the door opened again and her mother entered the room.
“Ginny,” her mother sighed in exhaustion, eyeing the silk gown Ginny had abandoned on the settee. “We have been over this!”
Ginny shook her head in defiance.
“And I remember telling you that I am not bending over backwards to impress my future husband. He can either like me as I am, or he can choose to break this betrothal.”
“Ginny!” Her mother hissed. “You know exactly why this betrothal cannot be broken. You should be thanking Mr Potter on your knees, you should. You would lose your entire future if it were not for his kindness. He could break this betrothal without any consequences, but without him, you would be forsaking any possibility of love or children in your future.”
“Why must love come with the promise of children?” Ginny demanded. “Surely, there are many barren women out there, Mum. Do you think they do not deserve love?”
“No, of course not! But you’re not barren, Ginny. Why must you fight us on everything? We love you and we only want the best for you.”
“I have agreed to this marriage for the sake of you and Dad. But I refuse to change who I am for the sake of a man I don’t even know.”
Her mother stepped forward and pulled Ginny into her arms.
“I’m sorry, love. I would have wanted for you what I received from your father - the promise of abundant love before we married. But,” her mother’s voice broke. “I know that this might not be the punishment you think it is. Mr Potter is from a good family, raised by a kind woman, or so I’ve heard. And he is showing you immense kindness by not breaking the contract. I’m sure he will be an entirely proper gentleman, who you could eventually learn to love.”
The gentle, comforting touch of her mother cracked Ginny’s resolve.
“You don’t have to hide who you are, dear. It’s not going to change who you are if you dress like an English lady,” her mother told her, smiling into Ginny’s hair. “You will be married in a week. And I expect that some things might change. When you go to live in London with Mr Potter and his family, you can no longer wear your Indian tunics and skirts. I am only trying to prepare you for what’s to come. Please, Ginny, do this for your family.”
Ginny relented, but only just.
A surge of anger and hatred seemed to boil inside her. But because she found it difficult to blame her mother, her brother, or even her dead father, who’d created the betrothal in the first place, it was her future husband who became the victim of all her pent-up rage. In her mind, she was ready to hate him for the rest of their miserable lives together.
Her mother called Leela over to help dress Ginny. When she was forced into a corset, Ginny couldn’t help but swear out loud. Her mother immediately exclaimed, “Ginny! Watch your tongue.” She shook her head in disapproval. “I blame your brothers. They’ve filled your head with nonsense. You have no idea how to behave like a lady.”
Ginny winced as the corset tightened around her body. She had not worn a corset in ages, and even though Leela was being as gentle as possible, she felt cramped in the clothing.
Leela eased the pale blue silk gown over Ginny. The gown had a high collar, giving her a more modest look than she was used to. Some fancy buttons and trimmings adorned the front of the gown and the bell sleeves were embroidered. There was an overskirt that was bunched to Ginny’s back. Ginny checked her reflection in the mirror and huffed in annoyance—she looked like a clown!
“So pretty,” her mother said approvingly.
Ginny rolled her eyes and bit back her tongue.
As if things weren’t bad enough already, Ginny’s mother gave Leela instructions on how to do her hair. Following the instructions closely, Leela wrapped Ginny’s long hair into a bun and pinned it all to the back of her head. Apart from a few curls that framed her face, Ginny looked entirely unrecognisable.
In her misery, Ginny hadn’t heard the door to her room open again, so it was only when she heard a loud laugh cut through the air that she realised that Ron had entered the room.
“What are you wearing?” Ron asked, still snickering and eyeing Ginny with amusement.
“Oh, shove it,” Ginny replied, not bothering to look at her brother. Instead, she helped Leela slip matching slippers on her feet.
“You must be burning up under all that fabric.” Ron made himself comfortable on Ginny’s reading chair. He reached out to her table and grabbed a few pistachios from the serving bowl in which they were kept. “Is Mr Potter supposed to be impressed with this get-up?”
“Oh, hush, you!” their mother exclaimed. “And will you clean up those pistachio shells? How will Ginny entertain her guest in a dirty room?”
“She’s entertaining him here?” Ron’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that a touch inappropriate?”
“They’re getting married in a week, Ron.” Their mother took out her wand to Vanish the pistachio shells that Ron hadn’t bothered to clean up. “I thought giving them some private time would help them get to know one another a smidge better.”
“Without a chaperone?”
“Should we talk about how many chaperones you took along with you when you were courting Hermione?” Ginny snickered at her mother’s quip, enjoying the way Ron turned pink at the insinuation.
“It’s different,” Ron pointed at Ginny. “Ginny is a woman!”
“And what was Hermione, a troll?” Ginny offered.
Ron ignored her and spoke to their mother instead.
“Mum, you can’t be serious.”
“Honestly, Ron,” said their Mum, “Hermione and I shall be sitting right in the next parlour, two doors away . Do you think Mr Potter’s going to besmirch the honour of your sister when the man’s marrying her in a week?”
“It just seems wrong,” Ron commented, sitting back in his seat.
“What are you doing here anyway?” their Mum snapped up to attention. “You’re supposed to be at the harbour to receive Mr Potter.” She made her way to Ron and began to pull him up from his seat. “There’s no time to waste, you must be there when he arrives.”
Ron let himself be dragged out of the chair, “Alright, alright. Merlin, woman, someone might think you’re the one marrying the fellow. I’ll Apparate there straight away and bring your Mr Potter back.”
Ginny heard her mother suck in a panicked breath.
“You want to bring him back by Side-Along Apparition? Didn’t I tell you to take the carriage instead?”
“Why can’t we Apparate?”
“You want him to come Side-Along with you?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Ginny asked, growing bored of the disagreement. And if she was honest, she saw nothing wrong with Ron’s suggestion. Who wanted to be crammed into a carriage in the middle of the afternoon in Bombay?
“Ginny! You wouldn’t understand. The man has travelled for two weeks on a ship. We should give him a chance to stretch his legs and get his first look at the city, should we not?”
Ginny snorted.
“He won’t be stretching much in a carriage now, would he? And you can barely see anything from that tiny window.”
“Ron, take the carriage right away,” their mother commanded, sending her brother out of the room. She turned to Ginny and warned, “And you will not laugh like a monkey in front of Mr Potter. Cover your face if you absolutely have to laugh.”
“Can I breathe, or is that forbidden too?” Ginny asked.
But her mother took Leela and left the room, probably to prepare an elaborate tea for her precious Mr Potter.
Whoever this man was, Ginny was determined to hate him. She knew that her mother would never allow her to break off this engagement. But perhaps if she was entirely disagreeable with him, then maybe he’d do the honours and rid her of this obligation.
You’ll never be a mother, Ginny , a small voice in her head reminded her.
She suppressed the thought. To Ginny, having children with a man she would never be in love with was a fate far worse than never having any at all.
***
Harry had never seen such a crowd of people before. The smell of the sea and spices hung heavy on the air as he breathed in his first of Bombay. There seemed to be an unrelenting energy around him—people pushing carts, loading and unloading goods, and sailors shouting at each other to get started.
And the heat!
The heat was driving him up a wall. He could feel the sweat roll down his body underneath his clothes. He’d been warned about the heat, but no one had told him how very humid the atmosphere would be. Harry craved to pull out his wand and cool himself off.
“Well, Mr Potter, hope you have a pleasant journey ahead.” Pym was at his side, holding up his hand in farewell.
“I’m sorry about the pirates, Captain.” Harry took the man’s hand.
“Let’s forget the unpleasantness. Hope you can catch the bastard.”
Harry held himself back from commenting. He was looking for no bastard that much was clear.
Harry picked up his case and made his way through the crowds. In the sea of black hair, he spotted a tall red-headed man, who was holding up a sign that read, “Mr Harry Potter”. The man was scowling and arguing with someone standing next to him. Harry made his way over.
“Excuse me,” he said when he was close enough to the man. “Have you been sent by the Weasleys?”
The man turned to look at him, sizing him up.
“Are you Potter?”
Harry found him a little rude.
“Yes,” he confirmed nevertheless.
The man smiled then, “Aha! Welcome to Bombay, Mr Potter.” He let his arms come down, lowering the sign he had been holding. “I’m Ronald Weasley, your brother-in-law-to-be.”
Harry shook hands with him.
“Ah, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Weasley.”
“Please call me Ron. Mr Weasley is my brother.”
Not rude then—this man was overly friendly. Comforting, in a strange way.
Ron guided Harry through the crowd. Both of them received many strange looks from the locals - some filled with envy, some with caution, and some with outright hate. Harry stuck close to Ron until he saw the small carriage that was parked on the side of the road. Ron shouted something in a foreign language to the driver and held the door open for Harry.
“After you, Mr Potter.”
“If I’m calling you Ron, I must insist that you call me Harry. Just Harry.”
Ron smiled easily, Harry noticed.
With the two of them securely sitting in the carriage, their ride began. The insides of the carriage were much cooler, probably thanks to a few enchantments.
“I feel like I must address the proverbial elephant, Harry,” Ron started, eyeing Harry’s face curiously. “I didn’t expect you to arrive quite so beaten up. The crew didn’t get to you, did they?”
“Er, no.” Harry subconsciously reached for his jaw, where the bruising was most noticeable. “The ship was boarded by pirates, actually.”
“Bloody hell!” His eyes widened in alarm. “Wait, it wasn’t that blasted Red Fury, was it?”
“The very same,” Harry smiled without humour.
“That bloody pirate’s a menace.” Shaking his head, Ron sat back, giving Harry a sympathetic look. “Looks like he got you good, doesn’t it?”
Harry almost corrected Ron, revealing that their common adversary was, in fact, a woman. But he held himself back. Harry wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust Ron yet, however friendly the man was. And Harry wanted to hear what the local Aurors had on Red Fury before he recounted his own tale in detail.
“It looks worse than it feels. I’m awfully mediocre at healing spells.”
“Ah, well, my wife is pretty decent. But if I’m honest, Ginny is probably the best at healing spells. She took a local healing course here,” Ron remarked, observing Harry closely, perhaps waiting for some sign of how Harry would react at the mention of his betrothed. “That would hardly be the ideal first meeting though, asking your future wife to help heal your bruises.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s not like the marriage itself is ideal.” The words slipped out before Harry could stop himself.
Ron stiffened. His shoulders squared and his amicable smile vanished.
“Yes, well, both of you have to make the most of your situation, don’t you?”
“I suppose.”
There was an awkward pause.
“My sister is a wonderful person, Mr Potter.” Harry snapped his neck to look at his companion when he spoke after a few minutes. It was obvious that Harry had offended the man. “And I know that neither of you would have chosen this for yourselves, but I would regret it if I didn’t say this. Our family is extremely proud, especially of Ginny and who she’s become, despite all the challenges that came with being the youngest of seven in a family without a father figure. And while my brothers and I have no choice but to hand over our sister to you, thanks to a careless promise made between our fathers, we will not tolerate any sort of disrespect towards her.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Weasley, I meant no disrespect towards your sister, my future wife ,” Harry forced himself to say. “I hope you can understand that the circumstances of the betrothal, along with the weariness of the travel and the pirate attack, have made me more discourteous than I would generally be. I meant no offence to your sister or your family. I understand that while this marriage might not be happening for the best of reasons, you can rest assured that I will be doing my utmost to perform my duties as Ginny’s husband.”
Ron regarded him for a few seconds and then gave him the slightest of nods.
The rest of the carriage ride was much easier. Ron’s mood was quick to turn and he pointed out some sights to Harry through the small window of the carriage. The city, while very different from what he was used to in London, was quite beautiful. There was a frenzy of colours and sounds.
The roads were wide and spacious, and several new buildings were being constructed in every direction he looked. It was unlike London, which was dull and dreary even on the best of days.
Harry realised that they had reached their destination when the carriage began to slow down.
Ron was first to hop off the carriage, holding the door for Harry once again. Stepping out in the open air, Harry got his first whiff of the wildflowers growing all over the yard of a grand colonial bungalow.
Harry gestured towards the sweet-smelling flowers, already addicted to the scent, and asked, “These are not local flowers, are they?”
“Well spotted, Mr Potter.”
A young woman with brown, bushy hair approached them. She was wearing a light cotton dress with purple flowers embroidered on the front. Her face was very proper and intelligent. At first glance, she seemed sweet-natured and polite. Harry briefly wondered if she was to be his wife.
His question was quickly answered when Ron threw his arm around the woman’s shoulders and kissed her, “Hello, love.” He looked up at Harry. “This is my much better half, Hermione.” Harry noted that the woman seemed very pleased at being called ‘much better’.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Weasley.”
“Lord, no one calls me Mrs Weasley around here.” She had a soft laugh. “Hermione should suffice.”
Clearly, no one in this house cared much about titles.
“Do you know a lot about plants, Mr Potter?”
“Harry, please.”
“Harry,” she corrected herself.
“I’m afraid not.” Harry laughed and added, “But when you’re seasick with only a book about South Asian plants to keep you company, you tend to be a quick study.”
Both Ron and Hermione joined in his laughter.
“These flowers are actually native to my mother-in-law’s village. Wildflowers that grew in abundance at the Burrow, the Weasley residence at Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon.” Hermione glanced at Ron, who was suddenly looking a lot less cheerful. “The house my husband’s family lived in when my father-in-law was alive. My mother-in-law is exceptionally good at weather control charms and brought these wildflower seeds to plant in her new home with her sons. To remind her of home.”
Harry glanced back at the flowers. The thought warmed his heart. The Weasleys felt a lot like his own family - one that was brought closer together due to tragedy. Was that why his father had placed his trust in Arthur Weasley and chosen to fight alongside the man, even in the face of death?
Harry found himself missing his own family terribly.
“Well, let’s get you inside, Harry,” said Ron. “Bill and Mum will want to meet you right away.”
Harry was ushered inside with great excitement, and Hermione and Ron showed him around. The bungalow was stately, with large windows and plenty of sunlight streaming in from every direction. The centre of the house consisted of an open space with a glass ceiling. The entire house seemed to open into this central space, in which a small garden was being maintained.
It was a modest but vibrant house.
The two of them led Harry to a large sitting room.
As he stepped in, Harry noticed several red-haired people excitedly step forward to greet him. As he was introduced to several Weasleys and a few of their wives, Harry quickly realised that the Weasleys all shared a few, easily recognisable traits—ginger hair, pale skin, and plenty of freckles.
It seemed that he’d been brought amidst a pack of gingers.
He wondered how many red-haired people he was left to meet—the pirate, the Weasleys. Perhaps his betrothed had red hair as well?
After introductions, Harry doubted that he would ever be able to memorise all the names in one day, but at least his future family all seemed to be a warm bunch.
The oldest brother, William, came to greet Harry in the end.
“Harry, I was wondering if I could speak to you in my office for a moment,” he said, pulling Harry aside from the rest of the family. “You will get plenty of time to catch up with the family, of course.”
Harry followed the oldest Weasley into a small study.
“I hope your journey to Bombay was comfortable, Harry,” William asked, taking a seat behind his desk.
“Well, apart from a very unfortunate run-in with a pirate crew, it was relatively smooth sailing,” Harry answered.
“That’s unfortunate. I hope you did not lose any valuables?”
“All of them, actually,” Harry decided to be honest. “My mother was kind enough to send some wedding gifts as well as an engagement ring for er, your sister. Unfortunately, it was all stolen by that pirate.” Harry felt his jaw twitch in frustration. He was still feeling quite distraught at having lost the ring that tied him to his father.
“I see,” William scratched his chin in thought. “Well, I could arrange for some funds to be withdrawn from your account in the Gringotts branch here. I’m sure you’re aware that I work with them as a curse breaker?”
“Thank you, that would be very kind of you, Mr Weasley,” Harry said gratefully.
The man held up his hands.
“It’s no trouble at all. It’s the least I can do for you.” Harry found him to have the same easy smile as the rest of the Weasleys, but he also knew that this man was much more wary than the rest of his family. Perhaps that was a burden reserved only for the eldest, who had been forced to step into the role of a father. “And please call me Bill.”
“Bill.”
“I hope you’re able to track down the thief and recover your belongings. As for the engagement ring, I assure you that my sister will not mind the lack of one at all.”
“Thank you, I intend to bring the thief to justice.”
Bill smiled at him, raking his eyes over Harry as if he was happy to hear that.
“Well, Harry, I must be honest with you. When I found out about the betrothal contract, I was honestly quite livid. I couldn’t believe that my father would promise our sister away without her consent,” Bill sat back in his chair, speaking openly. “And when I wrote to your mother, I had all intentions of breaking the betrothal contract. However, your godfather looked into the contract, and we found out that we had no choice in the matter. I would never want my sister to be forced into spinsterhood by an archaic magical contract. I decided then and there that I would do absolutely anything in my power to make sure that this betrothal contract was fulfilled.”
Harry nodded curtly, being able to understand the dilemma of the man in front of him.
“However, my sister has been very insistent that you be placed under no obligation to marry her.”
“Excuse me?” Harry asked, unable to believe his ears.
Bill sighed as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying either.
“She insists that you must make the decision of marrying her, all on your own after you have met her.” Harry must have looked incredulous because Bill nodded to reassure him. “Look, I don’t agree with her. I think she’s too noble for her own good. But she has always held this steadfast belief that a lack of free will is the absolute worst fate for a witch or wizard. And so, she doesn’t feel comfortable forcing you into a marriage with her.”
“But she is also being forced into a marriage with me. And she is the one who has everything to lose if I were to refuse.”
“Trust me, I know,” Bill said. “I sincerely hope you decide to marry my sister, Harry. But I’m a man bound by the wishes of his sister, so I must offer you free will. No one but my sister and I know about this offer, so please refrain from mentioning anything to my family.”
“Of course.”
“I would like to also make it clear that we can only provide a dowry of three hundred galleons for my sister. If that does not sound acceptable to you-.”
“I don’t honestly care about her dowry. If I choose to marry her, you don’t have to give me a single knut.”
Bill gave Harry a discerning look, perhaps trying to decide if he had meant what he’d said. After a few seconds, Bill nodded and said, “Nevertheless, the dowry shall be yours. You can let Ginny decide what to do with the amount.”
“Of course.”
“Well, I see no point in delaying further.” Bill left his chair and walked toward the door. Harry followed suit. “I will introduce you to Ginny. You may spend some time with her, and get to know her a little. You can let me know of your decision by tonight.” Bill eyed Harry uneasily, making him realise just how much power the man was putting into his hands. Harry felt uneasy. No, he must be honourable.
“My decision will not change, Bill. I came here to fulfil the promise my father made to yours. I understand that your sister feels obligated to offer me my freedom, but I am not willing to leave your sister to her fate alone,” Harry reassured the man.
Bill’s shoulders seemed to sag with relief.
“Nevertheless, tell me tonight.”
***
“Stop fussing, Mum,” Ginny complained. Her mother was fixing Ginny’s collar for the fifth time.
“I want this to be perfect.”
Ginny rolled her eyes but said nothing.
There was a curt knock on the door. Her mother almost squeaked with delight when Leela opened the door with a bow. Ginny could see Bill standing in the doorway, his red hair tied back in the neat ponytail he generally preferred. Despite herself, Ginny tried craning her neck to get a glimpse of her fiance.
She needn’t have, because Bill stepped into the room swiftly and made room for the man behind him to follow.
Ginny’s breath caught in her throat.
Him !
As if Ginny’s luck wasn’t already down in the damn sewers.
She felt his eyes on her, so she quickly put on a mask of indifference. She wasn’t sure how long it would take the man to expose her and then, her life as she knew it, would be over.
At least I won’t have to marry him , Ginny thought.
“Mr Potter, what a pleasure to meet you,” Ginny heard her mother say, grasping the man’s hand. “Merlin, you didn’t get assaulted by criminals, did you?” Ginny eyed the man’s bruises and scars, sitting extremely still. She hadn’t anticipated that the man she’d viciously attacked the previous night would turn out to be the man she was supposed to marry.
Her fiancé gave her mother a polite smile and said, “Something of the sort, but nothing to worry about, Mrs Weasley. It looks worse than it feels.” Actually, if Ginny remembered all the blows she’d given him, it probably felt worse than it looked. Because her most vicious attack had been on body parts that weren’t very clearly visible to her mother.
Dangerously, Ginny felt a smirk work its way up to her face.
Mr Potter’s eyes locked with hers, regarding her curiously. She averted her eyes.
“Well, our Ginny is the best healer in this house, isn’t she?” her mother gestured towards her and brought the man closer to where Ginny was sitting. Out of courtesy, Ginny forced herself to stand up in greeting. Although, with the corset making it difficult for her to balance, she almost tipped back into her chair, only just being saved from having to embarrass herself in front of this man.
Mr Potter extended his hand towards her, palm up.
When she let him take her hand, he bent down to kiss it.
“Your reputation precedes you,” he said, meeting her eyes, a flicker of confusion in them.
“My family exaggerates my skills,” Ginny said, eyeing her mother and brother, who were both holding their breath to see how the interaction between them played out. Honestly, she was hoping that both of them would leave her alone with Mr Potter so that they could drop the pretence and talk openly. The way the man was ogling her, she was sure that he was itching to put her in handcuffs.
Mr Potter straightened, towering over her. Ginny’s heart betrayed her, thumping faster with every second.
“Well, we shall leave you both to it, then,” Bill announced. “Enjoy your tea, Mr Potter.” And then he escorted their mother out. Leela silently followed them out as well, pulling the door shut behind her.
“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Ginny said, dumping herself unceremoniously into her chair. If she was going to be arrested today, she’d rather spend her last few minutes in the house enjoying the comforts of her room. She reached for the kettle in front of her and poured herself some tea. She took a sip and then pulled her face in disgust.
Her fiancé was watching her with slight amusement.
“You don’t like your tea?”
Ginny kept her cup back on the table, shaking her head, “My mother insisted that we serve you proper English tea. I, on the other hand, much prefer masala chai , that is, spiced tea. The way Indians take it.” Mr Potter settled himself into a chair. She guessed he wanted some sort of explanation before he arrested her. So she kept talking, “If you stay here long, I do recommend trying it once. It’s truly marvellous.”
“This is all a bit unconventional,” he noted, helping himself to some tea. Ginny noted that he took it with a splash of milk and one sugar cube. Not that she would need that information anymore. Convicted criminals rarely ever got the chance to serve tea.
“Nothing about this situation was conventional to begin with,” Ginny remarked.
Mr Potter shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. His glasses fogged up. “That much is true. But don’t you think that leaving us here without a chaperone is a bit much?”
Ginny was confused.
“A chaperone? Why would we need a chaperone?”
Mr Potter exhaled in amusement, his lips quirking in a soft smile. Ginny noticed his sparkling green eyes. In another world, she might have even found the man to be quite handsome. If he wasn’t going to shove her into prison, that is.
“I think decency dictates that an unmarried woman must be accompanied by a chaperone when socialising with an unmarried man.” He eyed the room. “Especially behind a closed door. Of course, these etiquettes may not be so strictly followed in India.”
“Mr Potter, are you toying with me?”
The man choked on his tea, coughing into his fist, and set the cup down on the table.
“Why would I be toying with you, Miss Weasley?”
“Ginny,” she corrected him.
“Harry,” he replied.
“Harry, we can drop the act. I only request that you refrain from telling my mother about the wounds that were inflicted on you.”
Harry furrowed his brows in confusion.
“What are you talking about, Ginny?”
“Your injuries. I would like to not have to take responsibility for them.”
“Ginny, it’s alright.” Harry held up his hands. His voice held a calming, soothing quality. “I don’t expect you to help me heal these injuries. It’s part of the Auror work. And yes, while it would be extremely helpful to have a healer for a wife, I assure you that you are under no obligation to ease my pain.”
“What?” Ginny asked, entirely puzzled.
“What?” Harry repeated, softly.
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
And then it hit her—Harry hadn’t recognised her at all. Of course! He was wearing glasses and he hadn’t been last night. And while he’d definitely seen that Red Fury was a red-haired woman, he had no clue that the woman was her .
Ginny couldn’t help but snort at her own stupidity.
She’d almost handed herself over to the Auror willingly.
“What’s funny?” Harry asked. Ginny shivered under his observant eyes.
“Just how stupid I’ve been,” Ginny said, confusing Harry even further. “Let’s start over, shall we?”
“Alright,” Harry sank back into his chair, folding his arms against him.
“I’m Ginny Weasley,” Ginny began. She wasn’t sure how much detail to go into. She only knew that when Harry was looking at her the way he was, she felt obligated to talk. “The youngest of seven children, the only girl born to the Weasleys in seven generations. We moved here when my brother got a job with Gringotts, so I was quite young and have mostly grown up in Bombay. I took a course with the local healing tribe out of interest. I might have been interested in working, but unfortunately, there were no jobs for women in the local wizarding hospital. The Indian Ministry for Magic still does not allow women to hold jobs.”
“That’s a pity,” Harry commented. “Well, once we are married, you can choose to work at St. Mungo’s. There is some resistance, but I know that they have begun to hire female healers.”
“Have you spoken to my brother?” Ginny asked him.
“Ginny, I appreciate your generous offer of allowing me to exit this betrothal, but I have no intention of doing so,” Harry assured her. “Our fathers were equally responsible for this magical contract. And we should both be equally affected by it. It would be extremely improper of me to make a bid for my own freedom when you’d be subjected to punishment due to some archaic clause.”
Harry’s voice seemed to take on an edge by the end as if he was indignant about the whole thing on her behalf. Something about it made her feel warm inside.
For a short moment, the prospect of being married to this man didn’t seem like the worst thing to Ginny.
But Ginny was quick to reprimand herself for even thinking it. This man was an Auror. Sent by the English Ministry to help catch Red Fury. What would he do when he inevitably found out that his own wife was the infamous pirate?
No, Ginny could not marry him.
But she could also not reject him without arousing suspicion.
So she resigned herself to doing the only thing she could—act like the most improper and unsuitable woman so that the man had no choice but to back off.
She got up and strode towards Harry. Out of courtesy, he jumped out of his chair as well. He straightened just in time for Ginny to stand in front of him.
“Before we marry then, I only have one request for you,” Ginny said, carefully measuring each word to make sure that it would be enough to scare him away for good. “Kiss me.”
Harry took a step back, spluttering, “I beg your pardon?!”
“Kiss me!”
“Ginny, are you feeling alright?”
“I’m feeling perfectly fine, Harry. I would simply like to be kissed.”
“Why?”
“I know it’s not considered normal for a witch to expect a physical connection with her husband, but I am not one of those witches. While it’s unreasonable to expect you to have relations with me before the wedding night, perhaps a kiss would inform me of our… chemistry .”
Flustered, Harry took another step back from Ginny.
“How does it matter if we have a physical connection or not? We don’t have a choice either way. You wouldn’t be able to have children with anyone else anyway.” She could tell that he was trying very hard to keep himself from outrightly panicking.
“Do you only sleep with women with the goal of having children?”
“What? I— I don’t—.”
“You haven’t ever been intimate with a woman?” she pressed.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Miss Weasley, I think this line of questioning is highly inappropriate.”
“I am to be your wife, aren’t I? I believe it’s well within my right to enquire after my husband’s nocturnal activities.”
Ginny knew that she was pushing the man too far, but a part of her was enjoying watching him squirm.
“Fine.” Harry snapped. “Yes, I have had, erm, casual relations, with a handful of women. But I don’t think that has anything to do with our marriage. We are getting married in a week, Ginny. Surely, you can wait that long for us to be intimate with each other.”
“I’m simply curious about our compatibility. I would hate for me to end up married to a man who cannot satisfy my needs.”
Harry’s jaw twitched and he held her gaze, an unreadable expression taking over his face.
“Trust me, I will have no problems keeping you satisfied ,” he bit out.
“I don’t see why you cannot simply kiss me and settle the matter, once and for all.”
“Ginny.” She could tell that he was trying hard not to sound exasperated, but he was failing. “It would not be proper for us to do anything before we are married–.”
Ginny rolled her eyes pointedly, stepping back from him, sighing, “If being proper matters more to you than the prospect of a happy marriage…”
She turned away from him, sure that her scandalous behaviour was enough to have convinced the man to break the engagement off the very same night. She smirked to herself, her face hidden from her soon-to-be former fiancé.
However, what she hadn’t planned for was Harry doing exactly the opposite of what she’d expected—giving in to her unreasonable demand.
She felt his hand close around her arm as he gently turned her around. As she began to open her mouth to question him, his lips landed on hers.
Ginny could hardly believe it. She was being kissed by the man she was being forced to marry, the man she’d attacked the night before, the man who would probably arrest her on the spot if he found out who she was. The man she didn’t want to marry.
Except there was something about his lips against hers that made all the fight leave her body. He smelled of the sea, she realised, as her hand snaked up to grab the collar of his robes for support. She closed her eyes, unwillingly surrendering to him, allowing him to put his hand on her waist and pull her closer.
His other hand came up to cup her cheek, caressing her as he kissed her thoroughly. She felt his tongue against her lips, teasing, seeking entry. To her horror, she let him in. A small sound erupted from the back of her throat and just as quickly as the kiss had begun, it ended.
Harry pulled back from her, looking quite dazed. There was a warm flush that rose to his cheeks. Ginny would wager that she looked no better.
“There, I hope that answers your question.” Ginny was surprised that he was able to string a few words together. She was sure that she would collapse if she didn’t have a table to lean against. “Based on our kiss, I would assume that we would probably have a more than satisfactory physical compatibility. Though you do have me doubting our intellectual compatibility.”
Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but he held up his palm.
“I am a man of my word, Ginny. I will marry you at the end of this week. I trust that you will keep your word as well.” Then with a swift bow of his head, he said, “I shall see you at our wedding then?” and left the room.