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Chapter Text

“...to send him this week…” 

“...his father’s son…will resist…”

“...must be done…James promised Arthur…”

Harry sighed. He knew his godfather and mother had his best interests at heart, but he was done with their secretive scheming. He’d rather be a part of whatever it was they were planning for his future. So he wasted no time, pushing the door open wide, and making his mother yelp in surprise. 

“Harry, darling, we were just waiting for you!” his mother exclaimed to hide her shock. 

His godfather was also quick to jump up in greeting.

Harry narrowed his eyes at his family, accusing, “I heard voices. You might as well tell me what you both are conspiring about.”

Sirius exchanged a look with Harry’s mother and the pretence was quick to fall. 

“We never were able to keep much from your keen eyes, pup. It’s what makes you such a great Auror,” Sirius remarked. He gestured to the seat opposite him. “Why don’t you sit down?” 

“Alright then, what is this about?” Harry asked once he’d taken his seat. He impatiently tapped his boot against the marble floor, the sound reverberating in the colossal room. 

“Well, you are turning twenty-one in a couple of months, and it is time that we talk about your marriage,” his mother said, exchanging another worried look with Sirius. 

Harry couldn’t help but burst into laughter. When neither his mother nor his godfather joined in, he schooled his face and asked, “You cannot be serious?” 

“Harry, you’ve known about your betrothal since you were a child,” his mother reminded him. 

“Yes, but I thought that you would never force me to marry someone that I have never met in my life,” he protested. The matter was getting more serious than Harry would have anticipated.

His mother pressed her lips together, her eyes watering at Harry’s accusatory tone. 

“I wouldn’t want to force your hand ever, Harry, but your father promised this marriage to his friend Arthur Weasley before they both died while trying to bring down Lord Voldemort. You know this,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it softly. We must keep your father’s word, Harry. I wish it wasn’t so, but we have no choice.” 

“Mum, I—I can’t see myself marrying a complete stranger. I always thought I’d only marry when I found love,” Harry pleaded, trying to make her see sense. 

“You might still find that with your wife, Harry. Love cannot be only one way or another. Look at your father and me. I hated him for years and couldn’t stand to be in his company, but I grew to love him eventually. Your journey to love might be very different from ours, but what matters is that you find your way to it.” 

Harry turned to Sirius, silently pleading with him to make his mother see sense.

“I’m sorry, pup. Lily’s right, I’m afraid,” Sirius averted his eyes. “James made this promise without asking either of us, but it doesn’t change the fact that the betrothal is completely legal and valid. I checked at the Ministry and the betrothal contract cannot be changed. A Potter must marry a Weasley. And since you don’t have any siblings, you must be the one to fulfil the contract.” 

“And if I refuse to fulfil the contract—?” 

“The Weasley girl will be cursed with barrenness,” his mother interjected, her jaw twitching with anger. Harry realised only then that her hands were tied as well. She didn’t want to subject some poor girl to a life of no marriage or children. 

Harry cursed aloud. 

“Why would Dad do this to me?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What a barbaric clause to add.” 

Sirius waved the thought away, “Neither your father nor Arthur Weasley were aware that their promise would become a binding betrothal contract that included such archaic clauses. Don’t hate your father, Harry. He only ever wanted what was best for you.” Sirius’s eyes glazed over with memories. “The time of ongoing war is one with heightened emotions. I know that James and Arthur grew close working against Voldemort together. And when on the eve of battle, Arthur received news of his new-born baby girl, the first Weasley girl to be born in seven generations, he was so elated that he promised to marry her to you. And James agreed.” 

Harry sighed. 

“And there are no consequences for me if I’m to refuse this marriage?” 

His mother looked up and shook her head, “No. But surely, you wouldn’t subject a woman to such a fate?” 

“I’m afraid that my upbringing has rendered me incapable of such selfish thought,” Harry said, after a few moments of silence. He’d considered it for a few moments in the darkest corner of his mind. But he had wanted children all his life, so how could he take that away from someone else? Even if it was some nameless woman he’d never met. 

No, she was his future wife .

His mother finally smiled with relief, pulling his face in her hands and kissing his forehead tenderly. 

“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered. “I knew that I could count on you to do the right thing. I know it may not seem like it right now, but this could be the start of a new life, a better life for you, you will see.” 

And then his mother shot up out of her chair, flailing her arms about urgently. 

“Sirius will fill you in on the rest,” she said, “I must instruct Dobby and Kreacher to help me prepare everything for your journey and the wedding as well. Oh, Sirius,” she clutched the pearls around her neck and turned to her friend, “Would you be so kind as to visit our vault and bring out some of the jewels that my mother-in-law left for me? I would like my future daughter-in-law to have them.” 

Before Sirius had a chance to accept the quest, Harry threw up his arms and asked, “Wait, what journey?” 

His mother’s smile vanished. 

“Ah well, the thing is,” she said, hesitating. “The Weasleys moved away from England once their oldest son William came to be of age. They live in another country.” She exchanged another panicked look with Sirius, who nodded to egg her on. “They live in India.” 

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. 

“India?!” Harry spluttered with disbelief. “That’s like five thousand miles away!” 

“A little more than six thousand, actually,” Sirius interjected, but quickly shut up when Harry glared at him. 

“How long would it even take to travel to India?” Harry asked his mother. It was Sirius who answered again. 

“I checked with Ripley in the Department of Magical Transportation and he said that you can take a Portkey down to Lisbon and then it’s a few weeks on a trade ship bound for Bombay.” 

“A ship?” Harry practically screamed. This day was quickly becoming the absolute worst he’d experienced in recent times. “Why can’t she travel and then we can marry here?” 

“How can we ask an unwed woman to travel all the way to England on her own?” his mother gently pointed out the flaw in his reasoning. 

“Couldn’t her brother travel with her as a chaperone?” 

“It’s much too expensive, dear. Mr Weasley has five brothers, a widowed mother, as well as a young sister to take care of. They would never be able to all travel here and I don’t want her family to miss the chance to see their only sister wed.” 

“And you’re fine with missing the wedding of your only son?” Harry argued. 

He knew he’d hit a sore spot because his mother seemed to be losing her patience with him. 

“I cannot be selfish, Harry. Miss Weasley would already leave her entire family behind to come live with us. The least I can do is let her family have the time they need to say a proper farewell.” 

Harry could see that they were done discussing this now. While his mother was someone who rarely ever lost her temper, he also knew that she wasn’t someone to discuss the same things over and over. She liked to be practical and once she had chosen a certain path, she rarely ever strayed from it. 

“And as it turns out,” Sirius said, filling the silence between Harry and his mother, “I need you to do some work for me while you’re in Bombay.”

“What work?”

“We shall discuss that tomorrow at the office.” Sirius got up and clapped his palm against Harry’s shoulder. He leaned closer so that Harry’s mother could not overhear them, “Chin up, lad. It’s better to marry now than to end up a lonely bachelor like me.” 

Harry’s mother took the cue to leave them alone, probably already busy making a list of chores for Dobby and Kreacher. 

“Yeah, no, I wouldn’t want to be a bachelor like you, wandering from ballroom to ballroom trying to find the next lonely housewife to warm your bed,” Harry commented snidely. It was safe to say that he was still feeling a bit angry at his family, even though he knew that the betrothal was neither of their fault. 

Sirius barked out a laugh. 

“You might wish you had practised more too, boy. The easiest way to your future wife’s heart will be through her bodice.” 

Harry frowned in disgust. 

“I don’t even know her name,” he simply answered. “I have no desire to think of her in my bed.” 

“Well, for your sake, whenever you meet her, I hope you very much desire to put her in your bed,” Sirius said, turning around to collect his cloak from where it was flung on the back of his chair. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” 

Before Sirius left, he turned towards Harry and smirked, “Her name is Ginevra. Ginevra Weasley. However, her brother was kind enough to warn us that she hates being called that and has a habit of hexing people who use her full name. So I would suggest calling her Ginny.” 

“Ginny,” Harry repeated, softly. 

So, within a few weeks, Harry was to be married. To a woman he’d never met. 

At least he knew her name now. 

Ginny Weasley .

***

Harry sipped coffee the next morning, trying to wake himself up from his night of troubled sleep. He didn’t usually enjoy the bitter taste, but that morning, he needed it to be awake for his meeting with Sirius.

After finishing his breakfast alone—his mother was too preoccupied shopping for his new bride to join him—Harry Apparated to work. The Ministry was bustling as always and many familiar faces tipped their hats to Harry on their way. 

“So tell me, what is this work you need me to take care of?” Harry asked, throwing open the door to Sirius’s cabin. 

Sirius looked up from his chair. 

“What? No kiss hello for your boss?” 

Harry was feeling less indignant today, so he gave his godfather the satisfaction of a laugh. He threw his briefcase on the chair in front of Sirius’s desk and then took a seat in another. 

“I already hear enough accusations of nepotism in this office. I don’t want to make them worse by kissing my boss hello every morning.” 

Sirius scowled. 

“What bollocks,” Sirius shook his head. “The only reason I hired you, kid, is your superhuman ability to fight dark magic. You are your father’s son, after all. And whether or not I was the Head of the Auror Office, you would have gotten here all on your own.” 

“I’ve already agreed to travel to Bombay, Sirius. No need to butter me up anymore.” 

Sirius took half a second to look offended but then dragged out a folder from his drawer and shifted it towards Harry. Intrigued, Harry peered into the file. 

“The Indian Ministry of Magic reached out to us, asking for assistance in one of their ongoing cases at the Bombay Auror Office.” Harry looked up in surprise. “Since you are required to travel already, I took the liberty of volunteering you for the role. It will also give you something to do,” Sirius wriggled his eyebrows teasingly, “Apart from seducing your wife, of course.” 

Harry groaned and then brought the conversation back to work, “What’s the case about?” 

“A series of robberies, which we think are being done by the same crew of pirates.” Sirius tapped the documents encased in the file. “These are records of the trade ships that have been looted in the past year on the same route—London to Bombay. These are no ordinary British ships. These are trade ships used by the Ministry of Magic to procure rare potion ingredients from India. So as you can imagine, the Ministry has a lot of vested interest in stopping this band of pirates.” 

“Do we know anything about them? Who they are, what their motives are?” 

“We don’t know much, unfortunately. Only this—the pirate crew consists of only a handful of wizards. We know that they belong to the magical community because the crew of our trade ships always have their memories wiped, giving us next to no evidence. The pirate crew has become popular locally, though. We’ve heard rumours that the leader of the pirates personally visits some of the local tribes and distributes the money he’s stolen from our ships. The locals have nicknamed him ‘Red Fury.’” 

“Red Fury,” Harry tested the name on his tongue. He chuckled, “I suppose he thinks of himself as some form of new-age Robin Hood. How trite.” 

“Whoever this Robin Hood is, he must be caught. The Ministry is losing quite a bit of galleons in these loots, and you’re my best bet at stopping this criminal. He might think he’s being noble by doing this, but he’s not helping anyone. If this thievery continues, the Ministry might halt all trade with these Indian communities. Then what will they live on?” 

Harry nodded. 

“I understand.” He scratched his nose, pushing his glasses further up. “Who am I supposed to contact at the Bombay Auror Office?” 

Sirius’s smile could only be described as smug. 

“Why, your future brother-in-law.” 

“Isn’t William a curse breaker?” 

“You will have six brothers-in-law in total, Harry. No, it’s the youngest brother, I think his name is Ronald. He works as an Auror in Bombay. He’s been working on this case for a few months on his own. But I’ve been told that between a lack of manpower and a surplus of cases, the Bombay Auror Office is sorely lacking in speed and efficiency. Perhaps working with you might help him catch this thief once and for all.” 

“Great,” Harry sighed. “It seems my future consists of only Weasleys.” 

“There are worse wizarding families to be associated with.” Sirius went on to tease him further, “You better be grateful that your father didn’t strike a friendship with Lord Greengrass. I’ve heard that his daughter, Daphne is an ice queen!” 

Outwardly, Harry laughed, expressing his relief to Sirius. But in his heart, there was the fear that his future wife-to-be could be someone he couldn’t get himself to like. Would she be beautiful, or at least, pleasing to look at? More importantly, would she be kind, compassionate, and brave? 

“Alright then, I’ll let you take the rest of the few days you have in London off,” Sirius said, getting up to see Harry to the outside of his office. “I hope you’re all set for the journey. Even in a magical ship, it will be a couple of weeks before you reach Bombay.” 

Harry didn’t want to be reminded of the uncomfortable journey he probably had ahead of him. 

“I guess I’m as prepared as I can be.” 

“You’ll be fine, kid.” 

***

Harry only made it back home around dinner time, after handing over a couple of his current cases to his colleagues. News of his impending nuptials had already made the rounds in the office and he’d received best wishes from many people, even from Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic himself. 

Harry found himself wishing that he could feel even half the enthusiasm that apparent strangers were feeling about his marriage. 

His mother, on the other hand, was very excited about the prospect of a new family member. 

“It’s been just the two of us for so long,” she said, her eyes misting as she brought the spoon to her mouth, tasting the soup. “I mean, I’ll never stop missing your father, but it would be wonderful to have another person living here with us, wouldn’t it?” 

Harry hummed his agreement half-heartedly, pushing his spoon around the bowl of soup. Even Kreacher’s excellent cooking was not enough to revive Harry’s diminished appetite. 

“And in a few years, we could have a few children running around the house,” Harry’s mother sighed at the vision in her head. 

Harry felt far from enthusiastic about marrying this woman. Maybe she would turn out to be not so horrid, but Harry’s pride was not allowing him to think kindly of her. He felt trapped, angry that his free will had been torn from him. He was to travel half the world to marry a woman who was not of his choosing. And his mother was dreaming about children? 

Harry shuddered when he thought about having to bed a stranger. 

Not that he hadn’t slept with strange women before. He’d had a couple of illicit affairs. He wasn’t fond of visiting ladies of the night after his initial experience, but he’d found other willing participants who had agreed to jump into bed with him. He’d never grown to have feelings for any of these women, barely ever seeing them again. No, the point of these women was to seek relief for a night or two. 

But he couldn’t get himself to be excited about bedding his own wife. Because this wouldn’t be for a night or two, no. It would be a task he would have to repeatedly engage in for the rest of his life. 

He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his lips at the thought. 

“...after dinner,” his mother spoke. “Harry. Are you listening?” 

“Huh—what?”  

“I said, I’d like you to come to my chamber after dinner, please.” 

“Will do.” 

Harry fidgeted with his collar as he stood in his parents’ bedroom. His mother was rummaging in the drawer of the desk that was pushed against the far wall of the room. Above the desk hung a large portrait of Harry’s father. 

Over the years, Harry had lost count of how many times he’d been told that he looked exactly like his father—the same messy hair, the same jawline, the same sharp nose, and the same warm skin. Really, the only thing that properly distinguished Harry from his father was the colour of his eyes—emerald green, which he had inherited from his mother. 

Despite their physical similarities, Harry wondered if he could ever live up to the sacrosanct legacy of his father. 

“Here,” his mother said, beckoning him to her. “I want you to have this.” 

She held out a small wooden box with exquisite carvings. She opened it to reveal the contents inside. It was his mother’s engagement ring—a golden band with a cushion-shaped emerald in the centre, flanked by two smaller diamonds. It was a simple ring, but he knew that it was expensive. He’d heard the story many times. His father had gotten the ring made to match his mother’s eyes. 

He stepped back, refusing to take the box from her. 

“Mum, this is yours.” 

His mother smiled, “Yes, but now it will be yours. Your father isn’t here to witness this marriage. But I know he would want you to have this. Just as a way for him to be a part of this new beginning for you.” 

Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. 

“No, this should remain with you. I don’t want to give your ring to a practical stranger ,” he hissed, feeling angry again. His mother was being too trusting, placing some sort of hope for happiness in this future that he’d been forced into. Harry wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle the disappointment when it would all inevitably fall apart. 

“Harry,” his mother insisted gently, cupping his face. “She is a stranger right now, but she is also your future. I know how stubborn you are, but I want you to promise me that you will give this a real chance. I don’t want you to spend your lifetime with a person you’re determined to dislike.” 

Harry refused to look into her eyes but nodded nonetheless.

“Good, now here you go,” she said, pressing the box into his hand. “And bring Ginny back here, to her new home. To our new family.” 

Later in his bed, Harry took the ring out and studied it. The green stone in the centre was large enough that it glinted even in the dim lights of the room.

Conflicting thoughts raged within him. 

But before he finally let sleep take him, Harry had decided two things.

He would fulfil his promise to his mother and try his best with Ginny. 

But if he found her to be unworthy, Harry promised to himself, that he would never allow her to wear the ring that symbolised the deep love his parents had shared for one another. The only woman who’d ever touch this ring would be a woman that Harry would love. And while he had no choice in the matter of who he was to marry, Harry vowed that only he would get to decide who he loved. 

***

Harry walked up to the Portkey Office, escorting his mother and Nymphadora on either arm. Sirius and Remus were following closely behind. Remus was clutching Teddy’s hand. Even Dobby and Kreacher had chosen to accompany them to see Harry off. 

Harry felt warm seeing the small, unique, and loving family he had. 

“Here we are, all the paperwork seems to be in order,” the clerk at the Department of Magical Transportation said, checking over the documents Harry had handed to him. He returned the documents to Harry and flicked his wand to summon an empty potion vial from a drawer. “One international Portkey to Lisbon, Portugal.” The clerk looked around to see the number of people who had gathered to see Harry off and excused himself from the room to give them some privacy. 

“Well, this is it,” Harry said, turning to face his mother, whose eyes glossed over with tears. Since his father’s death, his mother had become quite protective of Harry, and apart from his time at Hogwarts, this would be the first time he’d be going away from her for so long. “Don’t cry, please.” Harry swiped his thumb against her cheeks to catch a falling tear. 

His mother sobbed, “You’ll understand one day when you have children of your own.” 

“I hate that Lily is right,” Dora added unhelpfully. Harry knew that her hyper-independence had taken quite a backseat since Teddy had been born. 

“You’re behaving as if I’m moving permanently. I’ll be back in a few months.” 

His mother gave him a tight hug, nodding against his chest. 

“I can never quite believe how tall you’ve become.” While his mother was tall for the average woman, Harry was considerably taller, so she had to stand on her tiptoes to straighten his hair, which she did quite often, as her way of fussing over him. 

“You’ll take care of her, won’t you?” Harry asked over his mother’s head, jerking his head at Sirius, who smiled and responded, “By my honour.” 

Remus laughed and remarked, “I wasn’t aware you had any.” 

Harry embraced the rest of his family and took Teddy in his arms to drop him a kiss on the cheek. Teddy was too young to realise exactly what was happening but was kind enough to return Harry’s kiss. Last but not least, Harry patted Dobby and Kreacher affectionately when they bowed to say farewell to their Master. 

Before he could extend his hand to the Portkey, his mother touched his arm again and said, “Take care of yourself. And be kind to Ginny. Give her time to warm up to you.” 

“Yes, Mum,” Harry reassured her. 

He took one last look at his family and then grasped the Portkey, being pulled away from the people he loved. 

The next morning, he was awaiting the ship’s captain at the Lisbon harbour. It was much warmer here in Lisbon. Harry had rolled back the sleeves of his shirt, having taken off his Muggle jacket altogether. He dabbed the handkerchief against the back of his neck, already annoyed by the heat in the atmosphere. 

It’s going to be much hotter in Bombay , he reminded himself sourly. 

Merlin, he wished there were fewer Muggles about, so he could at least cast a Cooling Charm to seek some relief. 

After waiting for a few more minutes, Harry was relieved to see the captain of the ship make his way towards him. 

“Mr Potter, pleased to meet you,” the captain extended his hand. He was a burly man with a large moustache. “Pym at your service. The captain of this magnificent vessel—our home for the next two weeks.” 

Harry turned to observe the ship—it was a large trade ship, with very few rooms, if Harry were to guess. He wasn’t sure what sort of lodgings to expect, but at least the ship didn’t look like it was riddled with Scarlet Fever. 

“Let me give you a tour of our ship,” Captain Pym said and then gestured for Harry to follow along. It wasn’t a huge ship, but Harry quickly realised that what the ship was lacking in size, it was making up for in magic. When the Captain gave Harry a glimpse of the hold, where all the goods being transported were stored, the room looked much bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. A clever use of Extension Charms, Harry thought. 

The last stop on the tour was Harry’s room. 

“Your godfather insisted that you must be put up in the best room on the ship and paid highly for it,” Pym told Harry, leading him to what looked like a small cabin from the outside. Harry wondered if there would be something bigger waiting on the inside of that door as well. “Well, I never say no to incoming gold. Here are the Captain’s Quarters for you, Mr Potter.” 

Harry was not disappointed. 

An Extension Charm must have been applied to this room as well. It was very spacious for a ship cabin, consisting of everything a man might need for a long journey. An almost full-sized bed was tucked to one side, with a small window to look out from. A sizeable writing desk was on the opposite end, with a comfortable chair. There was a small chest of drawers to store personal belongings and a small crooked door on the side. 

Pym led Harry towards the small door and opened it to let him peek inside. 

Harry was happy to see a private loo, complete with a crude wooden tub to take baths in. It wasn’t luxurious by any standard, but it was much better than anything Harry could have expected. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Harry said, shaking the hand of his host. “I’m delighted to be on this ship with you.” 

Within two days, Harry was eating his words. Of course, he was quite unable to eat any real food so words would have to do. He’d been warned about seasickness, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be so awful. 

Even the Pepper Up Potions were not able to help him keep his meals down. 

It took his stomach almost a week to feel settled. 

A few more days and he was informed that they had made it more than halfway to India. While the journey had started out pleasant enough, it had gotten worse every day and Harry was quite eager to set foot on land again. 

Harry mostly kept to his quarters, poring through a few books he’d bought for the journey— The Brief History of Indian Magic and Prized Plants and Potions from South Asia . The books helped him at least get a bit of an idea about the country he was going to spend a few months in and he felt more at ease knowing that he wasn’t going to be entirely clueless. It was hard enough that he wouldn’t know their language, although he’d been assured that most people at the Indian Ministry knew how to converse in English. 

The journey at sea was quickly forcing Harry to feel restless, however. They were still about a day away from Bombay and this one last day seemed to drag on. 

Harry decided to go out for some fresh air. 

As he observed the crew, he felt his restlessness reflected in their postures. 

“What’s wrong, Captain?” he asked Pym when he approached. 

“It’s this last stretch until we reach the harbour, where ships are generally attacked by the pirates, Mr Potter,” Pym said gravely. 

“The pirates? You mean Red Fury?” 

Pym simply nodded. 

Harry was confused. 

“But, I thought the Red Fury only attacks outgoing ships, the ones that carry goods back to England?” 

“He is a vicious pirate, Mr Potter. He doesn’t discriminate. He hits whatever Ministry ship he can get his hands on.” Pym looked around at his crew. “The crew is worried about being attacked.” 

“Surely, with the numbers we have, we could handle a small pirate crew.” 

Pym’s eyes widened at Harry’s brazen suggestion. 

“Mr Potter, it is said that when the Red Fury attacks a ship, he uses dark magic to cloud the ship in complete darkness, making its crew incapable of defending themselves. If Red Fury does decide to attack our ship, I will be sure to hide in some corner of the ship and hope that he decides to at least spare our lives.” 

Harry was slightly amused to see the towering man in front of him cowering in fear of a simple pirate. A pirate was just a pirate, not some hellspawn. If anything, hearing that the people feared the pirate so much, Harry was feeling even more intrigued to finally come across him. 

For the first time on his trip, he was feeling a simmering excitement. Because bringing down criminals was something he could always look forward to, with or without an arranged marriage in the mix. 

***

Harry woke up to pandemonium. 

His eyes fluttered open, but his room was covered in a thick, dark cloud. He was barely able to see his hand in front of his face. 

He immediately reached for his wand, which he’d tucked safely under his pillow. He held it up in front of him, slowly reaching for the edge of the bed. He tried to feel around for his glasses but when he found nothing, he cursed and got up anyway. He was dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, but there was no time to find any clothes, even if he were to have complete vision. 

Harry kept his hand extended in front of him, using the noises outside his cabin to guide himself out of the room. When he found the door, he pushed against it, but it seemed to be blocked from the other side. He tried ramming down the door with his shoulder, but apart from possibly bruising himself, he made no progress. 

He took two steps back and pointed his wand in front of him, hoping that he wasn’t too far off the target before he yelled, “ Bombar —.” 

There was a blurry jet of red light and he was thrown back, his head hitting the back of the dresser. Harry was disoriented with the pain that exploded in the back of his skull. He immediately touched his hand to the spot to check for blood, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to have been too gravely injured. 

The noises outside were quieting down. It seemed that the crew had either been Stunned or, worse, killed. He heard the sounds of a pair of high-end boots hitting the wooden flooring of his room. He wasn’t sure whether his assailant could see him, but Harry remained still on the floor, pretending to be out cold. 

He heard the footsteps approaching closer to him. The front of a boot pressed against his ribs, kicking gently to see if he was awake.

When the man was satisfied, he huffed in derision and proceeded to step past Harry’s ear. He heard the drawers in the dresser being pulled open. He heard the soft ruffle of fabric being thrown on the bed to check the contents of the drawers. Harry’s heartbeat quickened—his valuables were in the second drawer, including his mother’s ring. 

Harry’s grip tightened on his wand, ready to attack the pirate. 

“ Expelliarmus ,” Harry yelled, pointing in the direction of the noise. The pirate yelped, tripping on Harry’s arm and falling right on top of Harry. Harry used his quick reflexes to put his arms around the pirate’s leg, trying to subdue him long enough for the darkness to abate. Harry felt around for his other leg, hoping to keep him incapacitated. However, the pirate was faster and used his advantage of vision to bring his other leg and kick Harry hard in the face. 

Harry groaned, the impact making his hold on the pirate slacken just enough for him to also kick Harry’s wand away. Despite the pain in his jaw, Harry used all his strength to regain his hold on the pirate’s legs. It didn’t matter if his wand was gone because the pirate was wandless as well. They were evenly matched and Harry simply needed to keep his hold on the pirate until all his buddies left the boat. 

The pirate struggled, but Harry found his other leg and put his arms around both to lock his movements. He felt the pirate’s hands claw at him, but Harry used his strength to climb the pirate’s body, using his legs to straddle him and keep his legs trapped. That left Harry’s hands free to try and grab the thief’s arms. Harry reached out and touched one arm, finding it mildly amusing how short the man seemed to be. 

Thwack !

Harry was punched square in his face. 

He winced, and his eyes watered momentarily, but luckily, the pirate was not strong enough to have made much more of a dent. Harry blinked a few times and reached out to grab the pirate’s arms again. He moved downward, finding the man’s shoulders, which confirmed Harry’s suspicion that whoever this man was, he wasn’t using his physical size or stature to loot people. He felt a renewed burst of energy—with a man this slender and small, Harry was more likely to win a physical altercation. 

The pirate struggled some more, trying to scratch Harry’s face. Harry felt a couple of hits land but he didn’t loosen his hold, instead finding both the man’s hands and viciously pinning them against the wooden flooring with a thud. 

Wincing at the pain in several parts of his body, Harry momentarily considered punching the man in revenge. But he quickly regained control of himself, not wanting to give the man any possibility of escape. 

Harry did allow himself the satisfaction to laugh though and whisper close to where he guessed the pirate’s face was, “Some pirate you are.” 

He expected a retort, but he just heard an angry intake of breath. 

Harry held on for long until he felt the pirate cease his struggling against Harry’s hold. He blinked, the darkness seemed to be starting to fade. 

His vision was clearing—at least as clear as it could be without his glasses on. Harry saw the blurry face underneath his. The pirate was wearing a mask that covered his small face. His thick cloak was pulled over his head, hiding his hair. Harry used the clarity in vision to bring the pirate’s hands together and renewed his hold on them with one of his, freeing the other hand for him to check the man. 

“Let’s see what all you’ve gotten your dirty hands on, shall we?” 

Harry undid the clasp holding the pirate’s cloak together and drew it apart to see a flimsy white shirt underneath, tucked haphazardly into a pair of tattered breeches. Harry knew that such cloaks could have pockets sewn on the inside, so immediately put his hands in through the parting of the cloak. 

Harry felt around in his pockets but was unable to find anything. Wanting to make sure that the man didn’t have any hidden pockets on his torso, Harry began to feel around. 

What Harry hadn’t expected to feel was delicate, womanly curves. Harry gasped when his hand brushed against a mound with a very recognisably hardened nipple underneath the shirt—definitely not the chest that a man would have. 

Harry pulled his hand back in alarm. His eyes met the pirate’s brown eyes, which had widened when Harry had touched him. Her !

This pirate was a woman !

Harry pulled off her cloak as far as he could. The first thing he saw was a heaving chest—no, breasts —underneath the cloak. The shirt’s collar was askew, revealing pale, freckled skin and a curious-looking red birthmark on the top of her cleavage. Harry felt himself flush at the sight of her, but he quickly averted his gaze. The woman began to struggle again with all her force, but she was no match for Harry’s strength. 

He decided that the only way forward was to keep on going. The pirate's turning out to be a woman changed nothing—she was still a criminal, and it was his duty to apprehend her. 

So, keeping his hold tight, Harry reached for the hood of her cloak, pulling it in one swipe. The hood fell off her head, exposing her red hair, which came tumbling out on the wooden floor in silky waves. He then pulled the mask off her head, exposing her face to his squinting gaze. 

Whatever he saw of her blurry face was enough to transfix him. 

She was quick to turn her face away from him, not allowing him to memorise the details of her face, but two things were clear to Harry—one, that this wasn’t some local criminal—she was possibly a British or European citizen; and two, that she was decidedly beautiful, enough to steal Harry’s breath for a few seconds. 

He ran his eyes over whatever parts of her face were exposed—her freckled cheek, flaming eyelashes, pink ear, and slender neck, which caused Harry to twitch in his trousers. 

“ Get . Off . Me .!” the woman screamed, accentuating every word with an attempt to kick or punch him. He was still much too strong for her to overcome. 

He leaned down, eyeing her hair pointedly and smirked, “You’re Red Fury, aren’t you?” 

She turned to glare at him, but then quickly turned her face away again, refusing to let him see her face. 

He used his free hand to touch her hair, measuring its thickness by wrapping a strand around his finger, “I must congratulate you on the fitting name you’ve chosen for yourself.” 

Something about this woman made him want to toy with her. 

She said nothing, huffing in frustration. 

“That’s alright,” he told her. “You’ll talk when we land in a few hours and I'll drag you to the Auror Office.” 

At this, she began to struggle again. Harry was so enticed by her struggle that he bent down to observe her closely. And that was his mistake. 

The woman saw the opportunity and leapt for it. Her teeth sunk into Harry’s exposed chest, biting down hard . Harry winced, undoing his hold on her hands to push her away from his body. His legs slackened their hold on hers to instinctively move away and she took the chance to aim her knee between his legs. Harry keeled over in blinding pain, falling to his side. 

Before he could renew his hold on her, she scrambled away from him, her hair flying behind her, blinding Harry to her movements. She must have found her wand, because, the next thing he knew, she screamed, “ Stupefy ,” and all went dark.

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.

Chapter Text

Harry had never needed to escape from a woman as quickly as he escaped Ginny. To say that she made him feel a whirlwind of emotions would be understating the situation.

When he’d first laid eyes on her, he had barely felt surprised that she shared the same red hair and freckled skin as the rest of her family. But what he hadn’t expected to feel when he saw her was an instant magnetic attraction. 

It was clear to Harry, with the way she fidgeted with her high collar, that the woman had no experience wearing Victorian fashion. But despite the hideously gaudy dress she was wearing, there was no denying that she was beautiful. Her sharp, brown eyes observed him without shame, and her plump, pink lips pressed together as she followed every move he made. 

Ginny Weasley was no tame woman; she’d proved as much in a single interaction. Nor was she a fool. She was well-spoken, perhaps too much at times. She was funny as well, he could guess, based on her demeanour, which was much less uptight and proper than most English witches he’d interacted with. Perhaps it was her unconventional upbringing here in India with six older brothers that made her so unrefined. She was a bit rough around the edges, but Harry found that he didn’t mind that at all. It made her all the more attractive to him. 

But then she’d gone ahead and crossed the line, completely ignoring all the rules of polite society and openly demanding a kiss from him. 

He definitely hadn’t expected to be questioned about his nocturnal activities, as she put it. What sort of woman wanted to test their physical compatibility with a man before they married? It wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter, anyway. 

Harry had never met an outspoken woman like Ginny before. Of course, his mother had always advocated against the double standards that the wizarding community had when it came to men and women, but if Harry was honest with himself, he still expected women to display a certain modesty and propriety. And he was happy enough to do the same as a man. 

So he did not know if he was up to the challenge of being married to a scandalous woman like Ginny Weasley. 

As he paced a few times in the corridor outside her room, he contemplated whether he could take her up on her offer of freedom and break this engagement. But he was quick to banish the thought. He knew that his mother would never forgive him for not doing right by Ginny. He’d also travelled all the way anyway. 

And now, thanks to Ginny’s inappropriate demand, it was clear that Harry felt at least some basic attraction towards the woman. Which probably meant that at least he wouldn’t have to live the rest of his life in miserable celibacy. 

Harry let his fingers press against his mouth. He could still feel the ghost of her lips against his. He’d lost a bit of himself in that kiss, got too involved in feeling her against him and longed to run his fingers through her hair. He still remembered how she’d moaned against his lips, forcing his imagination into overdrive. She’d smelled like the wildflowers that had greeted him outside the house.

No, this woman was entirely too ill-mannered. 

But maybe dragging her back to England would solve his problems. Yes, once Harry was back, he could leave his mother in charge of Ginny’s instruction, so that she could learn how to behave like a proper English witch. At least well enough so that he wouldn’t have to worry about her embarrassing him in public. 

Who she was and how she behaved weren’t reasons enough to change his mind, unfortunately. This marriage was going to happen, whether he wanted it or not. 

With his decision made, he took a deep breath and tried to retrace his steps to find Ginny’s brother. The house was not so large that he would get lost, so he made it back to Bill’s study and found the man hunched over a local newspaper. 

“Ah, Harry, I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Bill said, rising from his chair in greeting. “My sister didn’t scare you off, did she? She was a bit of a biter when she was young. Chased away more than a few maids.” 

Somehow, that fact did not surprise Harry. But what did surprise him was how fondly Bill spoke of his sister. As if this kind of behaviour from a young girl was something to be expected. Clearly, the woman had her entire family wrapped around her finger.

“Er, fortunately, no biting took place,” Harry said with a smile, stopping himself from adding, not yet, anyway . “I had a pleasant time speaking to Ginny and I simply wanted to let you know that I have reached my decision.” 

Bill seemed to hold his breath in anticipation. 

“We shall be going ahead with the wedding as planned.” 

Bill exhaled audibly, a small smile of relief taking over his features. 

“Thank you, Harry. My family and I are indebted to you.” 

Harry raised his palms and said, “Please, there’s no need to be. I only hope that I can make a fine husband for your sister.” 

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Bill thumped Harry on his back and dragged him out of the office. “Shall we talk wedding preparations then? My mother and wife have made quite a detailed plan for the event.” 

“I think a simple ceremony should suffice,” Harry said. 

“Simple?” Bill was almost offended by the idea. “Harry, we cannot wed our only sister without some pomp and show. But nothing that will make you uncomfortable. You can work out the details with my mother if you’d like. We shall foot the bill for everything, of course.” 

Harry shook his head, not wanting to comment on the wedding arrangements. For him, this marriage was an obligation that he simply wanted to be done with. If he was marrying for love, he might have had more of an opinion, but he was happy enough to leave the decision-making to Ginny and her family. 

“I think it’s best that Ginny gets the wedding she desires.” He paused, forcing Bill to stop walking as well. “I was wondering if there was a jeweller that I could visit, perhaps? I know that you said that Ginny would not mind the lack of an engagement ring, but I would be remiss if I did not present her with one. It’s the proper thing to do.” 

Harry had earlier planned to wait until he met Ginny to decide whether he would present her with his mother’s ring. But now that his precious heirloom was gone anyway, he saw no point in withholding a ring from his future wife. He didn’t think he’d ever fall in love with Ginny, but if giving her a ring could perhaps help ease her hostility towards him, then it was worth a try.

Bill’s eyes twinkled with delight. 

“Absolutely. I shall ask Ron to take you tomorrow. I bought an engagement ring for Fleur at the same jewellery shop.” Ah, so the French woman is Bill’s wife , Harry thought to himself. “I heard that the nearby nawab buys his jewels from the same shop.”

Before they entered the drawing room to greet the rest of Bill’s family again, Harry wondered just what the hell a nawab was. 

***

Ginny saw very little of her fiancé in the next few days. He left the house early every morning, going to work with Ron. And with a wedding to prepare for, Ginny barely had the time to worry about the lack of his presence. Any opportunities that she might have found to scare him further were wrenched away when someone or the other from her family was always present for every interaction she had with the man. 

When she was only three days away from her wedding, Ginny had begrudgingly accepted her fate—there was no way out of this betrothal. She would be married to Harry Potter in a few days. And then in a couple of months, she’d be forced to leave her family, her people, and a country that she loved, behind. 

“What sort of flowers would you like to carry down the aisle?” Hermione asked, poking Ginny in her ribs to gain her attention. 

“The wildflowers in the yard should do,” Ginny replied absently. 

“You wouldn’t want something more elegant, perhaps?” Anjali proposed excitedly. Ginny looked up at her newest sister-in-law’s suggestion. “Percy brought me a bouquet of the most stunning dahlias for our wedding day.” 

“I remember,” Ginny said with a smile. “I am happy with the wildflowers though. It just feels appropriate to carry a bit of the Burrow with me, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh, Ginny,” her mother sobbed into her handkerchief. She had made a habit out of sobbing every few hours during these last few days of wedding preparations. 

There was a knock at the door. Leela poked her head in.

“Miss Weasley, Mr Potter is requesting an audience with you.” 

“Oh,” her mother squealed, pressing a hand to her chest. She signalled to her daughters-in-law. “I think it’s best if we leave them to it, isn’t it?” She turned to Ginny. “Should you perhaps change, dear?” 

Ginny had finally convinced her mother to let her wear her linen tunic and skirt again inside the house, and she was not going to let herself be forced back into a corset. 

“I’m alright, Mum.” When she saw that her mother was gearing up to protest, she hastily added, “And we shouldn’t keep Mr Potter waiting now, should we?” 

Hermione was kind enough to drag her mother away before she could say any more. 

Ginny swayed on her feet a little, her hands clasped behind her back. She was a bit nervous if she was honest. So close to the wedding, it was all feeling a lot more daunting, a lot more real . 

She brushed her skirt hastily, smoothing it needlessly because she had nothing better to do with her hands. Leaning forward, she glanced into the mirror and straightened her simple braid, just in time for the door to click open. 

It was Harry, dressed in simple linen robes. She wondered if he’d gone shopping with her brother, alongside work. 

“Good evening, Ginny,” he said with a polite smile. Merlin, this man was the epitome of proper . It ruffled her feathers to no end. 

She returned his smile. 

“Good evening, Harry. Would you like to sit?” she asked, gesturing towards the chair that was opposite hers. 

Harry gave a curt nod and settled into the chair. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today, Harry?” 

He pursed his lips, amused.

“Must I find a reason to meet my betrothed?” 

“Well, considering that you’ve been quite content to ignore me these past few days, you must have had a reason to make an appearance,” Ginny quipped, folding her hands defensively against her chest. 

Harry didn’t look ashamed. 

“I didn’t get the impression that you liked me very much or that you desired my company,” he simply replied, challenging her with a smirk. 

“It hardly matters what I want, Harry. We are to be married in three days, so I would have imagined that the proper thing to do would be for you to attempt to get to know me. Aren’t you a stickler for the proper way of doing things?” 

Harry chuckled, “Yes, but as I remember it, you don’t care for societal rules very much, Ginny.” He shot one eyebrow up at her. “Our last interaction made that plenty clear to me.” 

Ginny felt herself flush, but she wasn’t about to admit defeat. 

“I didn’t take you for a man who is threatened by women who can think for themselves, Harry.” 

“No, only women who have no regard for propriety.” 

Ginny laughed in disbelief. 

“And you’re an expert in propriety, are you?” Ginny couldn’t hold back the indignant edge in her voice. “Tell me, Mr Potter, who out of the two of us, would suffer more from a loveless marriage? According to societal rules, you’d be free to visit as many cathouses or have as many illicit affairs as you’d like. Whereas I would be expected to remain loyal to you. I would argue that I have much more to lose in this situation. I know that love is the last thing to expect from this, but can you really blame me for trying to at least demand some form of compatibility from my husband?” 

Harry was speechless for a moment. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but then settled on, “I would never be disloyal to you, Ginny. Even if this is not a marriage based on love, I do not plan on breaking my vows.” 

Ginny snorted. 

“I suppose because it would disrespect the memories of our fathers, is it?” 

“Amongst other reasons, yes.” 

“How utterly dull,” Ginny muttered under her breath, but he must have heard her, because he shook his head and asked, “Do you want me to be unfaithful to you, Ginny?” 

“Of course not. But being faithful to a woman out of duty is hardly what one calls exciting.” 

“I think you’ll bring more than enough excitement to our marriage. I shall prefer to stay dutiful and dull ,” he added dryly. 

They glared at each other for a few moments before Harry stood up. 

“I didn’t come here for this. Let’s save our riveting verbal congress for another day, shall we?” He fished a small box out of his pocket. “Your brother was kind enough to accompany me to a jewellery shop and I bought this for you.” 

Ginny blinked rapidly, taking a few long seconds to comprehend what he was saying. 

“Oh,” she croaked, her throat feeling suddenly parched. She stood up, unaware of what else she was supposed to be doing. “There was no need, Mr Potter.” 

“Harry,” he reminded her. 

“Harry.” 

He ran his hand through his shabby, black hair. Ginny’s eyes flitted to his head and she wondered what it would be like to touch his hair. 

“I know that this is hardly the marriage that either of us dreamed of, but despite our differences, I do want to make the best of our circumstances.” His eyes softened, holding hers in a steady gaze. “And this seemed like the natural first step. Women do expect a marriage proposal, do they not?”

“I guess.” 

“I’m sorry that this is far from what you might have wanted for yourself,” he said, exhaling and taking a step closer. Ginny moved a step closer to him as well, keeping her hands stuck to her sides. “But this is the best I can offer you.” 

He opened the box. 

Inside was a simple gold band with a single ruby that sparkled in the middle. 

Ginny stared at it dumbly, feeling just a bit touched. 

“It’s beautiful, Harry,” she told him. 

His boyish smile made him look younger than he generally did. 

“I’m glad that it pleases you.” He plucked the ring out of the box and held it up. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t get down on one knee.” 

Ginny shook her head. Whatever he was doing was already much more than she’d hoped for. At that moment, she forgot why she’d fought so hard against this match. A sliver of hope seemed to take shape in her heart. 

“Ginny, I shall try my best to make a decent husband for you and hope that you can find it in your heart to find some affection for me, in time.” He gestured towards her hand. “May I?” 

Realising what he was asking, Ginny let him take her hand. A simple touch of his fingers made her acutely aware that they were alone behind a closed door again. Without meaning to, she thought of their brief kiss. Her cheeks warmed at the memory. 

Harry took her silence as a yes and slipped the ring on her finger. 

Ginny stared at her hand and wondered if she should apologise. Perhaps she’d been too harsh with him. Maybe he wasn’t the awful, stiff Auror she’d presumed him to be. 

“Thank you, Harry. This was very…thoughtful of you. I’m grateful.” 

He nodded, keeping her hand in his. He looked down to observe the ring on her hand. 

“It suits you nicely.” He let her hand drop from his.

“I’m sure it would suit anyone, it’s quite pretty.” 

There was an awkward pause, in which neither of them spoke. 

“Er, well, I’ll leave you to it then. I’m sure you have wedding preparations to get back to.” 

“You are welcome to join in and share your opinions on the matter,” Ginny offered, but he had already begun to move slowly towards the door. Ginny decided to walk with him. 

“I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise.” 

They both paused outside the door. 

“If I may say so,” Harry began, turning to squint at her, a warm flush covering his cheeks. “You look lovely today.” 

“Oh, you think so?” 

“Yes, you seem more at ease today than you were the other day.” 

“That’s because my mother was adamant that I be stuffed into a corset, barely allowing me to breathe properly.” It was only after she’d said it, she realised how inappropriate the mention of her corset probably was. 

Harry simply grinned and asked, “You don’t believe in thinking before speaking, do you, Ginny?” 

“Not one of my skills, no.” 

“And what are your skills?” Harry’s eyes danced across her face, observing her with amusement. “Apart from making a complete fool of men who follow societal rules, of course,” he added.

“Well, you’ve heard of my healing skills.” Harry nodded. “But I am rather good with a broom. My mother never allowed me to practise as a young girl—she thought it was very inappropriate for a girl to learn. So I used to sneak out and steal one of my brothers’ brooms to practise. My mother was quite horrified when she found it, especially because I refused to ride side-saddle like a proper English lady.” 

“I would expect nothing less from you,” he teased her. 

Ginny felt as if she had been forced to let her guard down a little. She didn’t know whether she was happy with it or disappointed. She decided to examine her feelings at a later time. 

“Well, until next time, Ginny,” Harry said softly. Then, taking her entirely by surprise, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, barely lingering for half a second. “I will look forward to our next spar. I’m sure there are many more unfair societal expectations that you’d like to debate.” 

She knew that he was teasing her, but she also found it endearing that he called those practices unfair. 

“I must warn you, I do have very strong opinions on these matters,” she confirmed.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” 

***

Harry found that despite his misgivings about the woman, he was rapidly warming up to Ginny. He found her amusing and refreshing. At least she wasn’t part of a herd, barely distinguishable from another gentle lady. 

She was independent, honest, and even a bit brave. Those were all qualities that Harry could admire. 

It also didn’t hurt that she was downright fanciable. 

The last he’d seen of her, dressed in a modest linen tunic and skirt with pretty embroidered flowers, he’d found her to be breathtaking. Her mother had done the woman a complete injustice by dressing her up in an ostentatious gown the first time he’d seen her. Ginny was far, far more appealing in a simple dress with her long red hair pulled into a braid. 

Harry had been unable to stop himself from gaping at her lips as she talked or smirked or teased him, reminding him of that kiss she’d practically forced him into. Not that he had stopped thinking about that kiss very much these past few days. 

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts when Ron brought in a tray with two cups of tea and some biscuits to provide them with much-needed sustenance while they discussed the case again at home. They were done with work at the Ministry for the day, but both of them had silently agreed to discuss the case for a bit longer in Harry’s room. 

“I find it difficult to believe that the Red Fury that I have been chasing for more than a year is some woman with red hair and pale skin,” Ron remarked with a frown. “As a ginger man myself, I have to say that there aren’t many red-haired English people in Bombay. Also, what would an English woman even know of piracy?” 

“I’m telling you what I saw—I can’t make sense of it either.” 

Ron reached for a biscuit from the plate and nibbled on it. “Maybe they were using Polyjuice? You know, to hide what they looked like in case they were seen?” 

Harry shook his head, reaching for his own cup of tea, “But why would they bother with a Polyjuice when they wipe the memory of anyone who comes across them? They couldn’t have known about my protection rune. It’s not that commonly used.” 

Ron didn’t argue that point. 

“Well, if we are looking for a red-haired English woman like you said, let’s write down everything we know about her.” Ron looked around for a quill on the table and then pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment from inside a drawer. He dipped his quill in ink and held up one finger. “She has red hair.” He held up another finger, counting as he wrote. “Pale skin?” 

“With freckles.” 

“Everyone with pale skin has freckles in India,” Ron pointed out and chuckled. “Including my whole family. What else?” 

“Erm–.” Harry paused, not sure what else he’d noticed about her. 

“Well, could you see how old she was?” 

“It was difficult to tell. Her skin was still youthful, so I would wager that she was not any older than twenty-six, twenty-seven? But she could be younger as well.” 

“Let’s say somewhere between twenty and twenty-eight?” 

“Alright.”

Ron scribbled it down. 

“She was short, very slight,” Harry pointed out, remembering the figure of the woman who had been temporarily trapped underneath him. He tried not to colour at the memory of her chest underneath his hands. 

“Alright…” Ron scribbled some more and then looked up. “Did she look like a well-bred lady? Or someone from the working class?” 

“Certainly didn’t behave like a well-bred lady considering the beating she gave my jewels,” Harry drawled sarcastically. 

Ron’s shoulders shook with laughter. 

“You never know. Our Ginny hardly behaves like a well-bred lady, does she? Maybe this Red Fury is the same.” 

Harry paused, his breath leaving his body in a huff. 

Could it be? 

“...an accent of some kind?” 

Harry snapped his attention back to Ron. 

“What?” 

“Did she have an accent of some kind?” 

“No, nothing unique. She barely spoke to me.” Harry thought harder about her behaviour. “And she tried very hard to hide her face. So I think we can rule out your Polyjuice theory.” 

Ron nodded and scribbled some more.

“Anything else?” 

Harry shook his head, still lost in thought. 

“Are you thinking about something?” Ron asked, having noticed Harry’s distraction. 

Harry removed his glasses and pressed the insides of his palms against his eyes, breathing deeply. Then he told Ron, “Nothing that makes any sense. I must be tired.” 

“Have you been sleeping well? It must be very difficult for you here. New country, new city.” 

“I’ve slept well enough, I suppose. The mattress isn’t the most ideal.” 

“Yeah, I’ve never liked the bed in this guest room,” Ron complained, looking around the small but clean room that the Weasleys had put Harry up in. “My back went for a toss the few times I slept in here.” 

“Why would you need to sleep in the guest room?” 

Ron wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest when he winked at Harry and said, “Oh, Hermione stayed here for a few weeks before our wedding.” 

Ron was easy to like, Harry realised. Something about the man put anyone at ease.

“But come tomorrow, you’ll be moving into Ginny’s room. Although, I’m not sure if that’s the best solution for getting better sleep.” 

“Should you be joking about your sister this way, Ron?” Harry felt obligated to ask. 

“Probably not,” Ron grinned. “But I like you, Potter.” 

After dinner with the family, during which Harry had realised that he’d successfully memorised the names of every family member, Harry paced in his room restlessly. The stray thought that he’d suppressed during his conversation with Ron had somehow reared its ugly head again. 

It was an entirely impossible thought, but Harry couldn’t help but think it anyway. 

The two women shared very many physical similarities—red hair, pale skin, freckles, and a slender body. But what were the chances that the woman that he was marrying tomorrow was the pirate that he was supposed to be hunting down? 

Surely not. 

And then, what about Ron? Harry remembered the man looking quite at ease despite the eerily familiar description of the pirate that they’d created together. Either he believed that his sister was entirely incapable of being a pirate, or he was aiding her in her illegal pursuits. And then covering her tracks as the Lead Auror on the case. 

Harry let himself fall into his bed. 

No, he was being far too paranoid. It wasn’t like Ginny was the only red-haired woman on the planet. Apart from the slender body and that specific hue of red hair, even Harry’s mother could fit the description of this pirate. 

How would Ginny be capable of being an infamous pirate? A twenty-year-old well-bred healer—how would she even find a ship, a crew? 

Harry was simply mixing the two women because he’d found himself drawn by both of them, coincidentally, for the same reason—neither of them had turned out to be what he’d initially expected of them. 

Harry sighed, wondering if he could write to Sirius to help with the case, but glancing at the watch, he decided it was quite late. He was getting married in less than ten hours. It would probably be a good idea to get some rest for what was probably going to be one of the most important days of his life.

***

Ginny was shaken awake by her mother the next morning. 

As she sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her mother embraced her and sniffed into her shoulder. 

“I can’t believe that you’ll be married today,” her mother whispered. “Your father–your father would have been so proud of you, dear.” 

Despite herself, Ginny’s eyes watered.

“I would have liked him to walk me down the aisle,” Ginny whispered. Her mother pulled back and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“And he would have given anything to be here today. I know you never got to know your father, Ginny, but he wanted a daughter so desperately.” And then her mother burst into tears, sobbing into her hands. “And he n–never even g–got to hold you…”

“Oh, Mum.” 

Ginny held her mother close, letting herself seek some comfort from the closeness as well. She had heard so many stories about her father that even though she’d never met him, she missed him every day. 

Her mother dried her tears and then smiled for Ginny’s sake, “But I know that Bill is looking forward to giving you away.” 

“I’m sure he’s happy that in a couple of hours, I will no longer be his problem.” 

“Ginny!” 

Before long, Ginny’s sisters-in-law entered the room, bustling with energy. Fleur was the expert in makeup and hair, so she was in charge of dressing Ginny up. But Ginny had asked Hermione to secretly keep an eye on Fleur, to make sure that Ginny did not end up looking like a clown. Anjali was simply happy to keep them company. 

It took about an hour for Ginny to get ready. This time, she knew she had no choice but to squeeze into a corset. Her Victorian wedding dress couldn’t possibly be worn over her actual waistline. 

Once she was ready, Ginny settled into a chair to allow Fleur to fix her veil. 

Fleur stepped back to admire her work. Hermione and Anjali nodded approvingly, both of them misty-eyed. Even Leela managed to squeeze a tear or two. 

“You’re behaving as if I’m the first woman on the planet to be getting married.” 

“The first Weasley woman,” Hermione pointed out, hugging Ginny. 

“You look exquisite, mon amour ,” Fleur whispered, kissing the top of Ginny’s head in a surprisingly maternal gesture. 

“Come on, ladies. We have to get ready as well,” Anjali, the voice of reason, reminded them all. 

Ginny was left alone in her room, waiting for the seconds to go by. Feeling impatient and more nervous than she would have cared to admit, Ginny twirled around the ring on her finger.

There was a light knock on the door and Ginny stood up expectantly. 

“Gin?” Bill whispered softly as he peeked in through the door. He spotted her, his eyes widening when they landed on her. He made his way to her and sighed happily. “You look so pretty, Gin!” 

“Different from the untamed nuisance that you’re used to?” 

Bill chuckled, “I still prefer her.” 

He offered her his arm. She clung on to him, seeking comfort in his familiarity. She was suddenly all too aware that once she was married, she’d have to leave this house, leave her entire family, leave him , the only father figure she’d ever known. 

“I wish I could have done more for you,” Bill told her, avoiding her gaze. She knew that he meant the betrothal. Bill had his pride, just as Ginny had hers. And she knew that he understood how difficult her position was—to be forced into a marriage. Bill had married for love and she knew that he’d only ever wanted the same for all his siblings. 

She squeezed his arm and leaned her head against him. “You’ve done more for all of us than we can ever repay, Bill. Now start walking, before you make me weep.” 

***

Harry fidgeted with the collar of his suit as he stood at the end of the aisle, waiting for his bride. 

He didn’t have to wait very long. The grand church doors opened and in stepped Ginny, escorted on the arm of her older brother. 

She was looking quite beautiful, Harry had to admit. Even though the dress still followed the London fashion, it had been modified to be simpler. Her dress had a full skirt, a cinched waist, and a delicate bodice that travelled up to expose her shoulders. There was a pale gold embroidery on her skirt. Her hair was pulled back again, a few red curls framing her face. A modest veil was trailing behind her and Harry noted that she was clutching a bouquet of the wildflowers in her fingers. 

Ginny locked eyes with him as she approached, a ghost of a smile on her lips. 

When she was close, he took a few steps forward to take her from Bill. Her brother deposited her hand softly in Harry’s extended one, taking one last look at Ginny and then retreating to take his place in the audience. 

Harry and Ginny stood side by side in front of the altar, hands joined together. 

“We are gathered here today…”

Harry snuck a look at his bride only to find that she was doing the same. Neither of them said anything, but simply stared at the other. 

“Harry James Potter.” Harry snapped his eyes back to the priest. “Do you take Ginevra Molly Weasley as your lawfully wedded wife?” 

“I do.” 

“Ginevra Molly Weasley.” 

He turned to look at her, unable to resist. He thought he saw her frown at the use of her full name, which made him bite back a smile. 

“Do you take Harry James Potter as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

She looked at him when she said, “I do.” 

“Then I pronounce you…” The priest’s voice was drowned out by the cheering that erupted from the first row where the Weasleys sat. “...kiss the bride.” 

Harry turned towards Ginny and leaned towards her to press a chaste kiss against her lips. His hand closed around her waist and he kept it there, even after they’d ended their kiss. 

She was his wife now. 

His wife .

The word felt foreign somehow. But he didn’t get the chance to process it. 

They turned back to the awaiting audience. Harry’s hand was pulled away from Ginny when her brothers dragged him into several hugs. 

The wedding party was quickly moved back to the Weasley house, where a small tent had been set up to host the event. Harry was dragged back and forth, being introduced to a parade of people—English witches and wizards that formed the small Anglo-Indian magical community of Bombay. 

“That’s Dean Thomas,” Ron said, pointing out a sour-looking man in the crowd. “He was vying for Ginny’s hand, you know? Before you came along, of course.” Ron took a big gulp of his firewhisky and shook his head. “Never liked the bugger. I’m glad you married her instead.” 

Harry stared at the man. He was tall and quite obviously handsome. He was staring at Ginny, who was busy with a group of ladies gossiping over wine. 

Harry didn’t know why, but he felt a surge of annoyance at the man openly ogling his wife. It might have been the FireWhisky, but he made his way through the crowd and went to greet his wife and her companions. 

“Hello, wife,” he said, slipping his hand around her waist. Ginny looked up in surprise, frowning a bit. “Won’t you introduce me to your friends?” 

“Erm, yes, of course.” She introduced him to women whose names he didn’t bother to even pay attention to. 

“Aren’t you working on that Red Fury case with Auror Weasley, Mr Potter?” one of the women asked him. “My husband’s ships have been looted twice now. I do hope you catch the menace.” 

The change was very small, but Harry noticed that Ginny’s polite smile seemed to fade just a little and she took a long sip from her goblet. 

“Red Fury is an amateur who has already made their first mistake—stealing from me,” Harry calmly commented. “You and your husband can rest assured that this pirate crew will be in prison before long.” 

“Excuse me,” Ginny said. “I shall fetch myself more wine.” 

Before Harry could offer to bring some for her, she’d already squirmed away from him, making her way through the crowd. 

It took him another five or so minutes to get away from the women. He didn’t know why he felt the need to be close to Ginny, but he found that he kept looking for her in the crowd. When he didn’t see any sign of her, he found the bar and picked up another FireWhisky. 

“...have to let me go.” 

Harry peeked through the flap of the tent to find Ginny pressed against the wall of the garden. A man stood in front of her, standing much closer than was polite. 

“I just don’t understand—.”

The two of them turned around to look at Harry as he stumbled his way out of the tent. The man was Dean Thomas, the same man who’d been staring longingly at Ginny all evening. Harry looked between the two of them, feeling a petty satisfaction when Dean stepped back from his wife. Ginny made her way over to Harry and took his arm, gently guiding him away from the area. 

“Do you want to tell me something?” Harry asked when they were a bit further away. 

Ginny frowned at him and said, “It’s my business and I took care of it. You needn’t concern yourself with it.” 

Harry pulled her into a secluded part of the garden, not ready to join the party yet. 

“You once used your status as my future wife to ask me very personal questions, Ginny,” he reminded her. “Well, I am your husband now . I think I have the right to enquire when a strange man takes my wife to the side for a private conversation on our wedding day.” 

“Why do you care?” 

“I care about my reputation in society,” Harry simply said. He wasn’t going to admit that it bothered him that she was talking to a man that he knew had wanted to marry her. “It’s not proper for you to be standing so close to him, without a chaperone.” 

“I’m a married woman,” she spat out. 

“All the more reason for you not to be fraternising with a strange man.” 

“Dean and I used to be close,” Ginny said, admitting defeat. Harry hummed, waiting for her to explain further. She sighed in frustration. “He proposed marriage to me a few months ago and well, that’s what led Bill to look into our betrothal. We’d always assumed that it was something that could be broken. But as it turns out, it wasn’t. So here we are.” She gestured to her bridal dress. 

“Did you want to marry him then?” Harry swallowed. He hadn’t even imagined that there was a possibility that Ginny could have held an attachment. He’d been so focused on himself that he’d never considered that she probably had more to lose by marrying him. 

Ginny averted her eyes. 

“I was considering the proposal and had decided to say yes—well, until—.” 

“Ah.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, why should you be?” Harry assured her. “I have a past and it’s only expected that you would have one too.” 

“We haven’t—we didn’t—not like that.”

It took Harry a second to understand the meaning of her words.

“It’s alright, Ginny. I would hardly be able to judge you if you had. After all, you know all about my nocturnal activities. Just one of those rules of society that differ for men and women.” 

Ginny threw him a genuine smile. 

“You’re catching up, husband.” 

“I learn quickly, wife.” 

And then they made their way back to the party. 

The party lasted for hours. And by the time Harry had made his way into the house, his things had already been moved into Ginny’s room. She had already retired into the room and he was quickly made to follow, her brothers forcing him into the corridor. Fred and George were kind enough to make a few lewd comments and only stopped when Bill glared at them. 

“Good luck, Harry,” Bill told him and led his brothers away. 

He stood alone outside her door for a few seconds. He didn’t know why he felt nervous. It wasn’t like he was planning on doing anything with her. It was too soon and she wasn’t some one-time lay. She was his wife and deserved some time to get to know him. He had full intention to let her decide when to let him into her bed. 

He finally gathered the courage to knock. 

Ginny opened the door within a few moments. 

“Oh, thank Merlin, you’re here!” 

She looked relieved and pulled him into the room, closing the door with a soft click. She immediately turned around and presented her back to him. 

“I have been trying to take this blasted dress off me for the last fifteen minutes and it’s driving me insane.” She put her hands against her hips and huffed loudly. “Why do they design women’s clothing in such a way? Completely making us incapable of dressing or undressing ourselves.” 

Harry ran his finger against the row of buttons that ran down Ginny’s back, holding her dress together. He hadn’t expected to be asked to undress her. He knew she was his wife and that he would see her at some point, but he had counted on that being far away into the future. 

“Why didn’t you get your maid to do this?” 

Ginny didn’t turn around and started pulling out pins from her hair. 

“Leela has retired for the night,” she complained. “And considering the amount of FireWhisky my brothers had, none of my sisters-in-law would be available to help.” 

“Oh.” 

Harry began to undo the ridiculously small buttons on her dress. He fumbled with some of them, his fingers much bigger than the actual buttons. The dress started to come apart from the top. And in a few minutes, he’d undone every button. The dress was hanging off Ginny’s arms now. Harry took the opportunity to run his eyes across the sprinkle of freckles on her bare shoulders. He felt himself heating up. 

“Well, thank you,” Ginny whispered, turning around slightly to look at him. She was holding the dress against her chest and only now seemed to have grasped that they were alone in a room together. And it was their wedding night . 

“If you could perhaps turn around, I’ll—.” 

She twirled her finger around. 

“Right, of course.” 

Harry turned around, facing the wall. He used the opportunity to shed off a few layers of clothing as well until he was left in his shirt and breeches. He heard a frustrated sigh and then an expletive that Ginny muttered under her breath.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, not wanting to turn around. 

“The corset,” she mumbled unhappily. 

“Should I, er, help?” 

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, seemingly struggling on her own still. Finally, she gave up and said, “Yes, please.” 

Harry turned around again. 

Ginny was standing in front of the mirror, her long hair cascading down her back, free of all the pins, dressed in her corset and petticoat. Harry’s breath got stuck in his throat. He’d never seen her hair like that before and he longed to run his fingers through them. 

He approached her slowly and she turned around wordlessly, offering him her back again. 

He reached out and gathered her hair, moving them to the side. He found the lacing of the corset and began to undo it. There was such a tense silence in the room, cut only by the sounds of their breathing. Harry worked his fingers until the corset loosened. Harry stepped back, allowing her room to turn around and pull the garment away from her body. 

Harry should have turned away immediately, but curiosity got the best of him and he glanced at the mirror to see Ginny’s reflection. He saw her breasts, now hidden only by her low-rising chemise. He might have focused on the delicate shape of her breasts and felt the heat crawl over his body if it had not been for the birthmark. 

There, on the edge of her cleavage, lay a mark. 

A mark he had seen before!

Acting on instinct, Harry grabbed Ginny’s bare arm and pulled her, not so gently, until she was facing him.

“ You’re the Red Fury ?!”

Chapter Text

“ You’re the Red Fury ?!” 

Harry’s face was twisted in anger and disbelief. His fingers were digging into Ginny’s arm painfully and she tried to squirm out of his hold, ignoring his words. 

But he was having none of it. 

He tightened his hold on her even further and hissed, “You’re the pirate, aren’t you?” 

Ginny shivered, unable to stop herself from reacting to his words. She had held onto the stubborn, naive hope that she would have been able to keep her secret from her husband until they had to travel back to England in two months, after which, she’d have been forced to give up her career as a pirate anyway. 

She should have known that her secret would be out on her very first night as Mrs Potter. 

Still, she couldn’t outrightly admit her crimes, could she? 

“What are you talking about?” She used her hands to push against Harry’s chest. She felt the taut muscles under the thin cotton shirt he was wearing. “Let me go. You’re hurting me.” 

That must have gotten through to him because he swallowed his anger and let go of her arm. The blood rushed back to where he’d held her and Ginny stepped back, trying to put distance between them, until she was pressed against her closet. 

But Harry wasn’t done with her. 

He stepped closer, hovering dangerously over her as he said, “You’re not going to get away with this by pretending that you don’t understand me.” 

Ginny jutted her chin out in defiance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Harry laughed without humour. 

“Ginny, I saw you. Maybe not clearly enough to recognise you immediately. Or maybe I was just thrown off by the mere impossibility of such a situation.” He glared at her. “My wife , the only daughter of a reputable wizarding family, a lowly pirate ,” he spat out. 

Ginny tried to push him out of the way, “You’ve had too much FireWhisky.” 

“Oh, I’m sober enough for this.” He held her again as she tried to walk past him and then pulled her against him. With his other hand, he grabbed the neckline of her chemise and pulled it away. 

“What is wrong with you?” Ginny screamed in shock as he exposed the top of her breast to his gaze. He pressed his thumb against her birthmark and smirked, “How much longer can you deny your crimes? It would be much easier for you if you just admit it all. I’m your husband, I’ll try to offer you lenient terms.” 

“Lenient terms?” she demanded, unable to hold back a laugh of derision. “And how exactly will you get me convicted, husband ?” 

His eyes as well as thumb lingered on her birthmark. “Red Fury had the same birthmark, right here, above her breast.” He eyed her hair. “And the same red hair, the same pale skin. And how many women in India who look like you also happen to have the same exact birthmark?” 

Ginny’s heart hammered in her chest. Harry’s hand was still pressed against her birthmark, his touch searing through the thin fabric of her chemise. His green eyes burned with fury—this was not how Ginny had imagined their wedding night to have gone. 

Taking a breath, she settled her rising panic and slapped Harry’s hand away. He stepped back immediately, a slight hint of guilt covering his features as Ginny pulled her neckline into place, preserving whatever was left of her modesty. 

“Are you in the habit of undressing women like a brute?” she asked, scoffing at Harry. 

By now, his guilt had faded and he said, “Well, if my wife is a damned criminal, I’ll do whatever needs to be done to prove it.” 

Ginny suppressed any reaction, trying her best to look as if she was unbothered by his accusations. 

“You’re mistaken, dear husband. But I suppose it must be rather difficult for you, being so self-important, to imagine that you could be wrong about something.”

Harry took half a step towards her again, whispering dangerously, “Don’t play games with me, Ginny. It’s not going to end well for you.” 

She leaned back against the wardrobe, intent on not backing down and admitting defeat. She held up her hand and counted mockingly as she spoke, “Let’s review the evidence you have, shall we? A birthmark? A hair colour? The colour of my skin?” She smirked, intending to make him even more frustrated. “Any more circumstantial, unreliable evidence to present?” 

“I don’t need evidence to know that it’s you.” 

“Well, I hope you find some. Without evidence, it would be quite embarrassing for you to publicly accuse your own wife, Mr Potter.” Ginny folded her arms against her chest in triumph. She knew that her husband cared about his reputation, at least on some level. “Wouldn’t be the most proper thing to do, would it?” 

Harry’s eyes flashed with more anger and he moved quickly, pressing his hands against the wardrobe door and caging her in. She refused to look guilty or afraid. She kept her chin high, glaring back at him, unfazed.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what the proper thing to do is. I don’t think you realise that it’s not just my reputation you risk, Ginny. You may be my wife, but you’re a Weasley, first and foremost.” She could smell the FireWhisky from his breath as he leaned closer. “What will your brother say when he finds out that his spoiled little sister has threatened his entire family by playing dress-up and sneaking off into the night?” 

Ginny stiffened. He’d struck a blow knowing exactly where it’d hurt her most. She had done what she’d done knowing the risk she’d posed to her family, but having it play out in reality was something she wasn’t prepared for. Still, the last thing she would do was admit her wrongdoings openly to her arrogant husband and beg for his mercy. She’d sooner drown herself in the Arabian Sea and wind up dead the next morning. 

“You’ll never be able to prove it,” she said, gritting her teeth. Her show of indifference had shattered. And Harry had won, for now.

He leaned away from her, smirking in triumph. 

“You let me worry about proving it, wife.” 

The two of them remained locked in a hateful glare, neither of them willing to back down. 

“It seems we’re at an impasse, then.” Ginny turned around, opened the door to her wardrobe and then pulled out her nightgown to change into. “I shall be changing into my night clothes and going to sleep. If you want to stand there and ogle me, since you have no respect for my modesty anyway, I guess I cannot stop you.” 

“I don’t—.” 

“I know that you are my husband and I am expected to offer myself to you,” Ginny continued, not allowing him to say his piece. “But I am not comfortable with having any intimate relations with you yet.” 

“Ginny,” he interjected. “I’m not interested in sharing your bed with you.” 

On some level, Ginny found that she was a bit offended. Did he find her that repulsive? Was she to spend her life married to a man who would never be attracted to her? 

Then she shook her head, suppressing the thought. 

She’d never have to worry about a lack of intimacy in her marriage. Not if he found a way to collect proof of her crimes. She did not doubt that he would waste no time in getting her arrested once he had sufficient evidence.

“Of course,” she said, unable to hold back the bitterness from her tone. And then she walked away, leaving him standing there. She made her way into the bathroom to change. Once she was dressed and had calmed herself by splashing water on her face, she stepped back into her room. She darted her eyes around the room and found Harry, already having changed, settled on the small sofa. Even though he seemed to have Transfigured the sofa to make it bigger, it looked like it must have been quite uncomfortable. His long legs were sticking out from one end. 

Ginny felt a surge of pity. 

“You can join me in the bed,” she called out as she slipped under the covers. 

“I thought we agreed on us not sharing a bed,” he replied, not even bothering to look at her. 

“I’m offering you a comfortable place to sleep,” she pressed, pulling the bed cover up to her chin. The weather charms in the house always made her feel a bit chilly. “Don’t worry, Harry. The bed is large enough that you’re not in danger of touching a dirty little pirate like myself.” 

He said nothing. 

Moments passed and Ginny wondered if the man was truly so stubborn that he would resign himself to a night of terrible sleep instead of taking up her offer. But she felt him wordlessly slip into the bed next to her. 

Both of them were careful to lie as far apart as they could, but she could hear him breathe next to her. She turned herself away from him, curling her body to try and feel cosier. She felt the bed dip underneath his weight as he arranged himself to sleep. 

Ginny lay awake for some time, wondering how her life had brought her to this point. Married to a man who couldn’t stand her, who was determined to put her in prison. Even if she somehow managed to evade capture, she was fated to spend the rest of her life being despised by him. She didn’t know which was worse—for Harry to send her to prison and disgrace her family or for the two of them to spend a lifetime of misery and resentment together. 

Unable to reconcile with her turbulent emotions, she slipped into slumber. 

***

Harry was vaguely aware of a small body pressed against his when he woke up. He forced his eyes open and turned to look at her—Ginny’s leg was draped over his and at some point during the night, the bed cover had slipped off her body. Her thin nightgown, which already left little to the imagination, had ridden up to reveal her freckled thighs and embarrassingly, he felt himself twitch in his pyjama bottoms. Merlin, he needed a release soon, if he was to survive without jumping his pirate wife. 

Not wanting to wake her up, Harry carefully picked up the edge of her nightgown and was just about to pull it down to cover her body when he felt Ginny stir awake. Her brown eyes were on his and then on his hand, still clutching her clothes. She jerked away from his touch and he quickly pulled his hand away.

Ginny’s face was almost as red as her hair when she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—.” 

Press against you provocatively ? Harry finished in his head. Now that he knew that Ginny was the same as the Red Fury, his attraction to her had multiplied drastically. This confused him thoroughly since he was supposed to be finding enough evidence to put her behind bars, not imagining several different ways he could strip her naked and have his way with her. 

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice cracking up. 

She shifted away from him, leaving him feeling only a bit disappointed. 

He needed a cold bath. He couldn’t afford to be attracted to his criminal wife. 

“Do you want to use the bathroom first?” she asked him. Now that they weren’t facing each other off, she was almost agreeable. 

“You can go ahead.” 

Harry let himself fall back into his pillow as he waited for her to be done, groaning in frustration when he smelled her flowery perfume, which lingered everywhere he turned in the bed. 

By the time both of them were dressed and ready for the day, barely having exchanged any words, there was a knock on the door.

“Hello, newlyweds,” Ron grinned when he answered the door. Ginny forced a smile for her brother’s sake, coming up to stand beside Harry. She certainly seemed to have a penchant for pretence. Considering her profession, he wasn’t at all surprised. 

“Mum has instructed that you be served your breakfast in here, to allow you some privacy ‘to get to know one another’,” Ron declared and made way for two large trays of food to fly into the room. “Here, or on the balcony?” 

“The balcony,” Ginny answered immediately. 

Harry realised only now that there was another small door tucked into the side of the room. Ginny flicked it open with her wand and Ron led their breakfast outside. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” And then he left, throwing Harry a suggestive wink before he closed the door to their room. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Ginny declared, twirling around and leaving Harry standing where he was. When his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he followed her outside.

It was a small but cosy spot, facing the garden. There were flowering creepers climbing up the side of the rails as well as a few flowerpots filled with tropical plants that adorned the place. A small table with two chairs sat in the centre of the balcony. It was pouring outside, which was often the case in Bombay, Harry had noticed. Ginny had already tucked into her breakfast, content to ignore him as she cut into her piece of bacon. 

“Would you like some tea?” she surprised him by asking as he scraped some butter on his toast. Before he could reach for the cup himself, she had already poured him some tea, adding a splash of milk and one sugar cube to it without asking him. 

“Thank you,” he said as he took the cup from her. Their fingers brushed together and they both dropped their gaze to avoid the other. “How did you know how I take my tea?” 

“You made it like that on the day we met,” she said, shrugging her shoulder casually as if it wasn’t a big deal at all that she had remembered such a minute detail about him. 

“That’s very observant of you.” 

“Believe it or not, it’s one of my skills.” 

“You mean, apart from piracy?” 

She turned to glare at him. But he noted that she was no longer bothering to deny it. 

“How about we make a deal, Potter?” 

“I’m listening…” he said, taking a sip from his tea. 

Ginny mimicked him, bringing her cup to her mouth. She kept her eyes on him as she sipped. When she set her tea back down, Harry noticed that it looked different from his. Perhaps it was the Indian tea that she liked drinking. 

“If I can promise you that the Red Fury will soon be retiring, can you turn a blind eye to him and his crew?” 

Harry chuckled in amusement. Surely, she wasn’t under the delusion that Harry could simply let her and her band of pirates walk away with crimes against the Ministry. Maybe he could protect her from prison and infamy, simply because she was now his wife. But he’d definitely need to find whichever criminals had clearly roped her into this mess and punish them to the fullest extent of the magical law.

“You can’t possibly think this would work, Ginny.” 

She frowned, quick to anger. She jabbed her finger at him accusingly, “Isn’t your goal simply to stop the looting from happening? If I assure you that it will stop happening very soon, then can’t you simply walk away from all this?” 

“Are you admitting that you’re Red Fury, then?” 

She bit out, poison in her eyes, “I’m admitting nothing of the sort. I’m simply saying that I have a feeling that Red Fury and his band of pirates shall soon be retiring forever. And that should be enough for you.” 

“It’s not,” he responded immediately. 

“What if I also promise to be the most—most dutiful and proper wife to you?” she forced herself to say. Harry could tell that it was an impossible concept for her to even imagine, but she’d offered it anyway. He was tempted, that much was true. 

He pondered it and drummed his fingers against the rim of his cup.

“I’m afraid that’s not enough either.”

“If I am truly the Red Fury,” Ginny began, clearly making a conscious effort to keep her emotions in check, “Surely, you cannot mean to see this through? By whatever stroke of luck, we are husband and wife. What will you do, humiliate me and by extension, both of our families, in front of the Wizengamot? Drag me to Azkaban?” 

Harry hesitated, not wanting to admit that she was right, at least on some level. He could no longer seek justice without hurting his own family. 

“So you propose I do nothing and allow you and whatever band of criminals you work with to walk away?” He set his cup down on the table with a finality. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I have to see this through. You cannot get away with this. And I will make sure that you don’t. You cannot steal from innocent people and then expect to not have to face any consequences.” 

“ Innocent ?” Ginny snorted. “Please, Harry, don’t make me laugh. Not when you don’t know anything about what’s going on here.” 

“Then enlighten me.” 

Her eyes flashed with a challenge. “You wouldn’t believe me.” 

“Alright, I’ll take your deal— if you hand over your crew.” It was in his best interests to protect Ginny, but he owed no such loyalty to other low-life criminals. “I will pin the entire thing on them and they shall be serving their sentence in prison. And you, dear wife , will be living in the Potter mansion for the rest of your life, where I will make sure that you never think about stepping a single toe out of line.” 

Harry had offered what he thought were fair terms and he had imagined that any sane person would take his deal. However, as he found out, Ginny was neither sane nor interested in his offer. She jumped out of her chair, her whole body going rigid with rage. 

“I should have known that you’re the same as the rest of them, Potter. You don’t mind sending a few Indians to prison in place of a high-born English woman, do you? Are their lives so very cheap ?” she spat at him, her eyes rimming with indignant tears. Harry felt more than a bit alarmed at her behaviour change. She was no longer the playful, calculating woman he was familiar with. She was gripped with passion and fury. “I will never betray my crew. I would sooner spend the rest of my life rotting away at Azkaban.” 

And then she was gone, slamming the door behind her. 

Harry was reeling. 

He’d thought of his wife as some foolish woman who’d probably been brainwashed into helping some thugs steal from Ministry ships. But the way she’d acted, he was forced to think that there was more to this story than he had anticipated. 

Every interaction with her made him more curious about who she was, what had led her to a life of piracy, and why she felt so passionately about protecting her crew of pirates. 

Whatever the mystery of Ginny Weasley—Ginny Potter now—was, Harry decided to get to the bottom of it, no matter what it took. 

***

Ginny avoided Harry for the next couple of days, as much as she could anyway. Thankfully, he was away for most of the day, working on her case. She felt terrified that any day now, he would divulge her secret to Ron, which would bring her life crashing around her. But every night when the two of them came home, Ron behaved as if nothing had changed. 

On the third night, Ginny couldn’t help but ask, “Why haven’t you told Ron yet?” Harry paused, his cloak halfway off his shoulders when he looked at her. They’d divided the room into their halves to avoid more interaction than necessary. She stepped into his half and crossed her arms in front of her, demanding an answer. 

“I know you believe the worst about me, but I am truly trying to solve this case without having to reveal your identity.” He threw his cloak off to the side. “Not just to protect my own family’s reputation but to also protect your family from the shame it would bring them. I have grown rather fond of them and I don’t want to hurt them.” He scoffed, “I know you don’t care much about that.” 

Ginny whispered, tired of fighting him every time they talked, “You don’t know anything about me, Harry.” 

His eyes softened. 

“Then tell me.” He ran his hand through his already messy hair. “You’re a bit ill-mannered and a tad infuriating, but I never thought of you as dishonourable. But here you are, completely disregarding the shared legacy of our fathers.” Ginny wouldn’t have guessed that her husband’s low opinion of her would hurt her this much. “I just don’t understand it.” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“It is precisely because of the legacy of my father that I’m doing what I’m doing.” 

“You cannot possibly believe that.” He took a measured step forward, gently grabbing her shoulders, pleading with his eyes to let him in. “Our fathers fought against Voldemort to protect the people he was hurting. Who are you protecting by taking what doesn’t belong to you?” 

For a moment, Ginny wanted to spill every last secret she held. 

His green eyes bore into hers, but she squirmed away from his hold, putting her walls back into place. She couldn’t trust this man. No matter how much she wanted to. He may be her husband, but he was an Auror who wouldn’t think twice before throwing her crew into prison. And her crew was like her family. She had to protect them, no matter what it took. 

When she said nothing, Harry sighed in disappointment. 

“Well, I’ll have you know that Ron and I are meeting a merchant near the harbour tomorrow. Someone who deals in stolen jewels. Someone who has promised us information worth our while.” He summoned a change of clothes from the side of the wardrobe that he was using. Before he went to the bathroom to change, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But you’ve left me no choice. Once I’ve found your crew, you’ll be going down with the rest of them, just like you wanted.” 

Ginny tossed and turned the whole night, unable to sleep. She could feel the noose tightening around her neck. No matter which path she chose, she was bound to be caught. So she was left with only one choice—to protect her crew and help them get away with it. 

She couldn’t afford the risk of visiting them during the night, not when Harry was sharing her bed, making it all too easy for her to be followed. So she waited until he’d gone to work and then sent a Patronus to her First Mate, asking her to meet at their ship. 

She told her mother that she needed to visit the village to replenish her stash of herbs. And then Ginny Apparated to the small clearing, beyond which lay the tiny corner of the beach where their ship was moored. 

“Homenum Revelio,” Ginny checked as was her habit. When the air didn’t change, she pricked her finger and let a couple of drops of her blood drip down onto the rickety pier, beyond which her ship was hidden. Within a few seconds, her ship materialised in front of her, looking just as she had left it before her wedding. 

She hopped on board. 

She heard him before she saw him. 

“Hello, wife.” 

“ Fuck .” 

***

“ Fuck .” 

“Well, well, that’s no way to greet your husband, is it?” Harry asked, stepping out of his Invisibility Cloak. Ginny’s jaw dropped as he appeared out of thin air. She raised her wand to defend herself, but he waved her away. 

“I’m not here to arrest you,” Harry told her. “ Yet .” 

“How is it possible for you to be here?” she asked, lowering her wand.

“It was simple—wait for you to sleep at night, put a Tracking Spell on you, and follow you wherever you took me.” 

She shook her head. 

“But I used the Revealing Charm outside. You couldn’t have been on the beach with me.”

“Ah, well, I don’t usually reveal this particular trick to a lot of people, but since I know a few of your secrets, I trust you will keep mine,” Harry said. Ginny watched his every move with deep mistrust, but he could hardly blame her. He wasn’t leaving without answers though. “I am an unregistered Animagus. And since you used Homenum Revelio , my animal form did not register on the spell.” 

“I didn’t take you for a law breaker, Potter,” she said, mockingly.

He smiled, saying what she’d said to him before, “You don’t know anything about me, Ginny.” 

“But you still couldn't set foot on the ship. The ship is protected by blood magic. Only the blood of me or my crew could set foot on the ship.” Ginny’s eyes kept darting back to the gangway. Harry slowly walked towards her side of the deck, careful to position himself in a way that he would see any person embarking the ship. 

“Yes, but I expected that you might have used blood protection of some kind. It’s easier to perform than a Fidelius Charm, but still quite effective.” Harry kept his eyes on Ginny as she leaned against the main mast, pretending to focus on his explanation. Without wanting to alert Ginny, Harry kept one hand near his pocket, where his wand was kept, ready to attack any crew members that might be hidden away out of sight. “This involves a fair bit of rule breaking, I’m afraid. I may have used a forbidden ritual to bind our bloodlines together. While you were sleeping, of course.” 

Ginny’s eyes widened in shock. 

“You–you– that’s not possible.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“I assure you, it is.” 

Ginny clutched the front of her cloak, probably struggling with imagining the steps such a ritual entailed. 

“You mixed our blood together?!”

“Only a few drops,” Harry clarified. “You didn’t even feel it.” 

“You’re insane,” she accused. 

Harry smiled, “No, simply determined to get to the bottom of this. I cannot believe that a woman like you, who loves her family so much, would jeopardise the lives they have built for themselves, here in India, for something as superficial as thievery.” 

“There is nothing superficial about what I do.” She glared at him. If Harry was honest, he was growing fond of her ire. Even though she was provoked to anger much quicker than anyone he’d ever known, he found that she wore her anger well. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes went wide, her brows furrowed together. She was a vision he could get used to. 

“Then tell me,” he demanded. 

She ignored him. 

“Do you know what you’ve done? Tying our bloodlines together?” Her arms flew around, trying to emphasize her point. “You can never be unfaithful to me, or leave me, or—.”

“Trust me, I knew what I was doing. We’re married already.” Harry shrugged. A blood ritual changed nothing. They were bound together already, weren’t they? He needed her to focus on the matter at hand. 

But she wasn’t done discussing the implications of his blood magic. 

“A marriage is not the same and you know it. You could have divorced me, or cheated on me, or simply put me in Azkaban and had a whole life of your own.” 

“I told you that I never intended to break my vows,” Harry said, growing a bit impatient. He couldn’t tell if Ginny was truly so shocked at his actions or if she was simply stalling for time. He let his eyes wander the deck again, trying to spot any danger. 

“Harry, a blood ritual ties two people together, ties two bloodlines together .” She clutched her chest in a frenzy. “So that means if I refuse to consummate our marriage or have your child, you wouldn’t be able to do that with anyone else either.” 

Harry’s eyes snapped back to hers. Merlin, she was thinking about that right now? No matter how much she hated him, surely she couldn’t be standing there thinking about forcing him into a life of celibacy. 

“Ginny, I won’t use the blood ritual to force you to consummate our marriage, if that’s what you’re worried about. The choice will always remain yours. This is no different from our marriage. It just means I cannot divorce you. Or step out on you.” 

Harry didn’t see the problem.

“You won’t be able to have children with anyone but me. You’re simply okay with that?” she demanded. 

Harry huffed in frustration. “Well, how is it any different from the fact that you can also only have children with me ? Only now both of us are in the same boat.” He looked around pointedly, “Quite literally.” 

She did not seem convinced, glaring at him with deep mistrust. 

“Ginny, I chose this, alright? We are already married and I had no intention of divorcing you or stepping out on you. So will you just stop obsessing about the bloody blood ritual?”

“And if I were to refuse you, you’d be alright with being celibate all your life?” 

“Merlin, fuck, I cannot believe this is what’s going through your mind right now, woman.” Harry put both his hands on his waist and sighed. “I obviously don’t prefer having to stay celibate the rest of my life, but if you are never interested in sharing my bed, I will do it. I would never try to force you, Ginny. Do you really have such a low opinion of me?” 

She seemed unconvinced for a minute, blinking at him without a word. But then eventually, she whispered, “No, I don’t think you’d ever do anything to hurt me on purpose.” It sounded like she was saying this more to herself than to him. And then, she raised her voice and called out, “Amara, you can stop pointing your wand at him and come out.” 

Harry spun around to see an Indian woman training her wand at him. How had he missed her moving behind him? He saw that she was barefooted, dressed in a simple cotton outfit, something he’d seen local ladies wear on the streets. However, hers had been draped more for practicality than for aesthetic. Her thick, black hair was pulled back into a braid and she had skin the colour of milk chocolate. 

She squinted at him with mistrust and went over to stand next to Ginny, her wand still pointing at Harry. 

Ginny said something to her companion in a foreign language and the woman finally lowered her wand, but not before she threw him a furious look.

“This is Amara, my First Mate.” Ginny shrugged at Harry almost apologetically. “She is protective of me. And of our ship, of course.” 

Harry hadn’t expected to actually meet someone from his wife’s crew that day.

“Can she understand me?” he asked. 

“She understands English to an extent, but speaks very little of it.” 

Amara said something to Ginny that made her laugh. 

“What did she say?” Harry narrowed his eyes at the two women. 

“She told me to not have children with you,” she said with an amused smile. 

“Very nice.” 

The two women led him to the upper deck, where they entered the Captain’s Cabin together. The cabin was small but neatly maintained. Dark wooden walls were held upright by carved beams. The smell of salt and aged parchment hung in the air. 

Four chairs sat around a table, behind which stood a bookshelf littered with a few dusty tomes. A few maps of the surrounding sea were scattered across the table, along with half-melted candle stubs. On the right, he saw a small shelf on which there was a mix of potions and healing salves. One large window illuminated the room with natural light, also providing a view of the sea outside.

“Sit,” Ginny said, pushing a chair towards him with the tip of her boot. She was wearing the same boots that she’d worn the day she’d looted his ship, he realised. She walked over to the other side of the table and sat down. Amara took one of the chairs to Ginny’s right. 

“What do you want to know?” 

Harry studied Ginny, the way she was warily staring at him, as if he was the one holding her hostage, when he knew that he wouldn’t be leaving the ship alive if she didn’t want it. However, Harry was past the point of suspecting her intentions. He knew enough about his wife to know that she wasn’t a cruel or malicious woman and that she would do him no harm. His instincts screamed at him to trust her, even though his years of Auror training said otherwise. 

“Everything.”

He could almost see her mask slipping off her face as Ginny took a moment to gather her thoughts. She breathed deeply through her nose, absently running her fingers over the maps that were within her reach. He saw a flurry of emotions on her face—hesitation, resignation, and perhaps a touch of grief. 

“You want to know everything?” She finally looked up at him, her eyes blazing, her jaw tight. “ Fine .” 

Harry waited. 

“I didn’t wake up one day and simply decide to be a pirate, you know? I’m not some spoiled rich girl seeking some adventure. I wanted to be a healer.” 

“I thought you couldn’t practise as a healer here?” 

“Not at the Ministry, I can’t.” She pressed her lips together. “That’s why I sought my healing education elsewhere. Bill had heard of a local magical community in the nearby hills that practised healing magic. He’d helped Gringotts reclaim some artefacts from a landlord in that area. Anyway, he suggested that if I was serious about healing, then I should seek my education there. I was already well-versed in Hindi, a language that some locals here speak, so I agreed to go.”

She hesitated, swallowing audibly. 

“There, I met a man called Rishi Raj Murthy. He was the village healer and he agreed to take me on, after some convincing.” Harry saw her eyes mist with tears. “He taught me everything I know—how to heal using herbs, how to cure afflictions using the magic of the land, how to mix potions that I’d never even heard of before. And they didn’t just hoard their knowledge for the magical community alone. Mr Murthy was helping Muggle villages as often as he could, crafting life-saving medicine for them whenever he could spare the time.”

Harry saw the quivering of her lip, the trembling in her fingers as she talked. There was more. 

“And then I learned about the trade.” 

“The trade with the British Ministry?” he clarified.

Ginny smiled bitterly, “If you can even call it that.” 

“What about it?” he pressed. 

“The Ministry has been draining this land dry for years. They take everything—from rare plants to ingredients collected from dangerous magical creatures—things that belong to the people here. And what do they get in return? A handful of sickles, barely enough to scrape a living with, let alone rebuild what gets taken. The Ministry’s been bleeding this land dry, stripping away its magic, bit by bit. They call it trade, but it’s theft.” 

Harry was silent. He’d heard rumours, of course—whispers of oppression in the colonies. But their close association with the Minister for Magic meant that neither Sirius nor Harry had taken these claims seriously. 

“When I began to work with Mr Murthy, the locals came to us for help. I saw men with withered skin, exposed to venomous plants that they were trying to harvest without proper protection. I saw women whose limbs were torn off by pisachas when they tried to collect their blood for the trade. I saw—.”

She inhaled a shaky breath, unable to continue. 

“It was sickening,” she continued, her eyes brimming with tears. “To see this community of wizards and witches reduced to injury and death. For the promise of a few sickles. Because the British Ministry bought the land from the Crown and made it illegal for them to live on anything but the scraps they offered. A few sickles, Harry,” she cried, tears finally spilling over. She sobbed into her hands, sounding helpless and forlorn. Harry felt his throat close up. He wanted to hold her, comfort her. “I saw children die for a few sickles.” 

Amara stood up abruptly, toppling her chair in a hurry to leave the room. Harry thought he’d heard her sniffle, but she was not willing to appear weak in front of him. She rushed past him and left him alone in the room with Ginny.

Eventually, Ginny inhaled deeply, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. 

“Mr Murthy tried to stop the trade. He refused a shipment of Naga Venom because it’s considered extremely dangerous to harvest it. You see, Naga Venom can only be collected when the creatures are alive. And Mr Murthy was unwilling to let the community endanger their lives any further. But—.” 

She stopped, swallowing again. 

“He was killed,” Harry finished for her. He could imagine what would happen to a man who dared to stand up against an unfair regime. 

Ginny nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.

“They—they were barbaric. They slashed his th-throat and l-left him to die. I tried t-to s-save him but he—he bled out, right in my arms… ” 

Harry hated how small she looked, her body wracked with sobs. He struggled to hold himself back, but every atom of his being longed to embrace her. Watching her pain filled him with such fury as he’d never experienced before. 

“For good measure, they killed every apprentice that worked with Mr Murthy. Anyone he’d ever trained or taught.” She whispered bitterly, “Except me. They only left me alive because in their eyes, I was a coloniser, same as them. So they let me live and simply told me to go back home and never come back. I told Bill, of course. He was furious, but he couldn’t really fight against a Ministry authorised trade. He wanted to travel to England to arrange a meeting with your Minister, but my mother was hysterical. She thought that the Ministry wouldn’t be above killing me. So she made him swear to do nothing. She’d already lost her husband and she didn’t want to lose a single family member more.” 

Harry was done listening. He pushed his chair away and paced in the small room. He was outraged, fuelled with a passion he hadn’t known was inside him. After having lived through all that, no wonder Ginny sought revenge, sought what he now knew was justice . She wasn’t a pirate. She was a rebel . She was truly the inheritor of the legacy their fathers had left behind. 

A small hand gently touched his arm and he stopped. He turned around to see Ginny standing in front of him, one arm wrapped protectively around her body. 

“I hope you see why I was forced to do this. The day my teacher died, I swore that I would do something. If it was within my power, then I would do anything to stop this from ever happening again.” Her tears were now dried up and there was a quiet determination in her eyes. Harry watched her silently, admiration for the woman in front of him overflowing in his heart. “I found others who wanted the same as me. The first one was Amara. Her brother was an apprentice who had been killed in that massacre. But then others who’d lost family members or loved ones to the Ministry began to show up. It took some time, but we built this ship together.” She eyed the cabin they stood in lovingly. “We had decided that if the Ministry wanted to take from us, then we’d take from them first .” 

Her eyes held a fiery determination.

“I don’t want to be like them , Harry. I can’t be like them. Every life should be worth the same—Indian, English, Wizard, Muggle…” 

“You’re not like them, Ginny,” Harry whispered, finally losing the battle to himself and drawing her close. He was pleased that she let him, folding herself into his arms, breathing deeply, giving up the fight against him. He pulled her as close to his chest as was physically possible, inhaling the sweet, calming scent of her hair. And then, in a move that took even his own self by surprise, he pressed a soft kiss against the top of her head. “You’re the furthest thing from a criminal, a pirate.” 

They stood like that for what felt like several long minutes, each seeking comfort from the other. Harry wasn’t sure whether it was because he now knew the whole truth, but he felt a shift in his feelings towards her. Whatever stroke of luck had brought them together, it didn’t seem quite so evil anymore. 

He felt Ginny pull away from him, avoiding his gaze, appearing pink with shyness. 

Harry cleared his throat to cut through the awkwardness lingering in the air between them. 

“So you steal from the Ministry’s trade ships because you want to stop the trade,” he finished, taking the liberty to bring her story to its conclusion. 

“We take back as much as we can and then return it to the local communities. We try to make it too costly for them to keep taking from us.” 

“And if they catch you?” 

Ginny’s eyes danced with some of the humour he’d grown familiar with. 

“They won’t if you won’t.” 

And there it was, the point of why she’d spilled her every last secret to him. She’d placed her trust in him without reassurances that he would stop pursuing this case. If he now wanted, he had enough evidence to turn her in along with her crew. But now that he knew her story, how could he possibly do that? 

Harry had spent his whole life believing in justice, in the law, in the idea that the Ministry existed to protect people. But here was his wife—his infuriating, reckless, brilliant wife—proving that the law could be just as cruel as the criminals he hunted.

And for the first time, he wasn’t sure which side he was really on. 

“I will stop investigating this case,” he announced finally. Ginny let go of the breath she’d been holding. “Or rather, I’ll collect fake evidence that leads the Ministry nowhere near you. In two months, you and I were supposed to travel back to England—.” 

“And I will do that still. Amara can take over after I’m gone and she can protect the people here, keep the fight going without me.” 

Harry was grateful that she was willing to give up the fight and go back to England with him, more grateful than he knew how to fully express. But it wouldn’t be right if he asked her to leave without properly seeing through what she had begun. 

“I could help you,” he offered. 

Ginny took a step back, sizing up the sincerity of his offer. She narrowed her eyes, growing wary of him again. He knew that it wasn’t easy for her to trust him, but she had no other choice anyway. 

“I can’t ask you to do more than turning a blind eye.” 

“I want to do more than simply turn a blind eye.” 

“Why?” she demanded. 

The real answer would have been more along the lines of, ‘ Because they hurt you and people you care about ,’ but because Harry was not ready to examine what exactly that meant yet, he said instead, “Because if what you’re saying is true, then there is something bigger going on here. I know the Minister of Magic, Ginny. He belongs to a similar magical community and had to face the same discrimination in his own career. So I find it hard to believe that he would sanction such a trade.” 

Ginny laughed without humour. 

“You can’t be that naive, Harry. Do you think it’s only the British Ministry officials who oppress the magical communities here? No, it’s the rich Pureblood wizarding families also. Royals and rich landowners who are Indian, but they still consider themselves more important than the rest. The Indian Purebloods are just as much party to this crime as the British Ministry. It doesn’t matter if you know the Minister for Magic. If you investigate him, you might just be surprised by what you find.” 

“Then I’ll do that—investigate the entire Ministry, if I have to. You cannot stop oppression by only removing one head of the Hydra. Remove one, and two more will simply grow to take its place.” 

Ginny bit her lip, and he could see her resolve cracking. But she was far from convinced. 

“You’re a British Auror, Harry. You work for the Ministry that is doing all this. You’re telling me that you’re going to betray them, put your entire career at risk? Just like that?” 

“I’m loyal to my upbringing, Ginny, not some false institution.” Her eyes flickered with empathy and understanding. “If the Ministry is truly corrupt to the very core, then I will stop at nothing to topple every last brick.” 

He must have convinced her, because the next thing he knew, her face lit up with a playful, cocky, Ginny-esque smile. 

“Careful, husband, I might make a criminal of you yet.” Then she took a step closer to him, holding out her hand towards him. “Alright, I’ll accept your help.”

Harry found it a tad ridiculous to be shaking hands with Ginny as if they’d just agreed on an illicit deal, but he chuckled anyway and took her hand. Because on some level, he knew that the partnership that he’d just forged with his wife was going to change both their lives.

Chapter Text

“Mum, you can’t be serious,” Ginny groaned, not at all happy about this latest development.

“Just because you’re married now, young lady, does not give you the right to use that tone with me,” her mother threatened, shaking her finger in Ginny’s face. 

Hermione and Fleur giggled at her frustration. 

“Mum, you cannot send me away, not when I’m going to leave all of you in less than two months anyway,” she tried to plead her case again. But her mother ignored her, sipping her tea and nibbling on biscuits without a care for her predicament. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible.” 

But her mother wasn’t having any of it, calmly spreading some clotted cream on her scone. She took one bite and then turned to Ginny. “You’re hardly here as it is. You’re either down at the village, collecting herbs or handing out free medicine— don’t you dare deny it —or, you’re flying around on your broom, hoping that I won’t notice it.” 

Ginny stuttered, unable to come up with a better excuse. 

“Don’t use us as an excuse to not spend quality time with your husband, dear. I am sending you both away for a honeymoon and that’s final . It’s just for a few days anyway,” her mother stressed, effectively putting an end to all arguments. She finished her scone in one final big bite. “I have asked Harry to take a few days off from the Ministry and he has already agreed. Now, I’m writing to Mrs Hardcastle to ready her cottage for your arrival. I’m sure that once you get there, you’ll find that you needed this holiday all along.” 

And then her mother left the room. 

Ginny immediately threw her head back and sighed dramatically. She wondered if she could throw a tantrum in front of Bill and get her way, as she had done often enough before, but when she looked hopefully at Fleur, the French woman shook her head rapidly and said, “ Non , mon amour . Your brother ‘as already promised Molly zat ‘e won’t be ‘elping you out zis time.” 

“What about Ron?” Ginny turned to Hermione. “He could tell my mother that he desperately needs Harry around for his case.” 

Hermione, insisting on always wanting to know everything about everyone, simply asked, “Why are you fighting this so hard? A honeymoon is such a wonderful time. Ron and I were away for a whole week and I wish it had been longer.” 

“That’s because you were fucking every chance you got,” Ginny blurted out. 

Both women audibly gasped at her language, but more for the sake of pretence than any real objection. Ginny had discovered quite early on that her sisters-in-law liked to speak about forbidden things in hushed tones. And neither of them were above using less-than-appropriate vocabulary. Although Hermione was a tad more refined. 

“What about you then? You’re newly married,” Hermione pointed out, helping herself to a biscuit. “Shouldn’t you be wanting to have sex every chance you get?” 

Now, Ginny knew that if she told them the truth, there was danger of them offering her advice. And she wasn’t sure if she could sit through another instructional talk on the ways of sex. And Hermione and Fleur were going to be far more detailed than her mother had been. 

So she simply shrugged and said, “Sex is alright, but I don’t know what the big deal is.” 

Now when Hermione and Fleur gasped, they meant it. Both sat up straighter, gaping at Ginny in horror. 

“Then ‘arry isn’t doing it right,” Fleur declared. “Does ‘e ‘ave a small cock?” 

Ginny choked, crumbs of her biscuit going down the wrong way. 

“It’s alright if ‘e ‘as a small cock,” Fleur commented, matter-of-factly. “If ‘is cock is small, ‘e could use ‘is fingers or ‘is mouth on you, and often zat’s even better than ze actual cock.”

“Can you stop saying—,” Ginny paused, feeling the need to whisper that last word, “—cock?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t pretend as if you suddenly care about propriety. We could help you figure out how best to seek your pleasure, Ginny.” Fleur nodded enthusiastically. “A woman’s pleasure is very important and you mustn’t be ashamed about wanting it for yourself. Look, Ron and I struggled in the beginning as well, but I found that if I was on top—.”

“Stop, for Merlin’s sake, please.” 

“If you desire a better intimate relationship with your husband, you must listen to us,” Hermione continued, unfazed. “Being on top gives a woman more control over the penetration, the rhythm—.” 

“Someone kill me now,” Ginny moaned to herself. 

Fleur was nodding now, adding very unhelpfully, “And if ‘e is shy about kissing you down zere, you could always take things in your ‘ands and sit on top of ‘is—.”

“For the love of Godric, do not finish that sentence ,” Ginny threatened. “This is way more information than I needed about what you both get up to with my brothers.” 

Thankfully, the door to the sitting room opened. Ginny was about to express her relief at whoever had entered the room to rescue her, but immediately sank back deeper into her sofa when she saw her husband, flanked by her two aforementioned brothers.

Bill glanced at Ginny’s flushed cheeks suspiciously and then narrowed his eyes at his wife. He dropped himself into the space next to Fleur, threw his arm around her shoulder and asked, “You’ve not been corrupting my sister, have you, darling?” 

“We are simply teaching Ginny ze ways of ze world.” 

She shared a knowing giggle with Hermione. 

Harry, who had filled the empty spot next to Ginny, threw her an utterly puzzled look. She simply shrugged to let him know that she had nothing to do with whatever her sisters-in-law were up to. 

“We were sharing stories from our Honeymoon, now that Harry and Ginny shall be going away for theirs,” Hermione commented. 

Ron chuckled and enquired, “I hope not all the stories.” 

Hermione looked like nothing less than a besotted fool when she flushed at her husband. Ginny watched them with envy. Her brothers had gotten so lucky, being able to marry women they were in love with. And now that she was less intent on hating her own husband every waking minute, she had begun to realise exactly what she’d lost. She and Harry managed to find some mutual respect and maybe that would also grow into some form of companionship in the future, but she could not imagine him watching her with such unadulterated adoration as her brothers and their wives looked at each other.

Unable to stand the nauseating display any longer, she jumped out of her seat. 

“I was thinking that I could take advantage of this lovely, monsoon-free evening by taking a walk by the Back Bay,” she announced. 

“You go on ahead, Gin bug,” Bill said, quirking his lips in amusement. “I don’t think any of us wants to get our boots licked by the sea.” 

Ron was already stuffing his face with the leftover scones and he mumbled something unintelligible, but Ginny understood it to mean, “I want to be where the food is.” 

Harry cleared his throat, shooting up from the sofa, pressing his middle finger against the frame of his glasses as he often did to push them back as close as humanly possible to his nose. 

“Erm, I could use a walk,” he said and stepped aside to let Ginny leave the room before him. Just before they left, Bill teased, “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” 

They walked in silence until they reached the front step of the house. 

“Well, we certainly can’t walk all the way to the Back Bay, so we must Apparate and then we can walk along the beach,” Ginny explained, turning to Harry after she fixed her braid under her outdoor hat. She found that he was watching her—his green eyes had almost turned black in the waning light of the evening—and she shivered underneath his piercing gaze. 

“Er, shall I take you Side Along?” she asked, trying to cut through the tension in the air. Harry corrected his features and finally looked away. 

“Yes, of course.” 

She offered him her hand and he laced his fingers into hers. It felt so alien to be gripping his hand so tightly, but it also made her pulse quicken. She spent an extra half-minute lingering in the doorway, enjoying the way her hand was so comfortingly dwarfed by his. There was a warmth that seemed to travel from the tips of his fingers all the way to hers. She wondered if he was feeling something similar. 

Then she Apparated them to her favourite spot, one end of the Bombay Back Bay, which was the most prominent coastline in the city. The beach curved around the water, forming a sort of necklace along which several buildings had begun to be constructed by the Muggles since the British Crown had taken over the land. 

Seeing the beach immediately lifted her spirits, making her forget momentarily that she was soon headed for a honeymoon that she didn’t want, with a husband who didn’t want her , when all she actually wanted to do was help her crew continue their fight. But Ginny’s mother was unlikely to accept piracy as a valid reason for skipping on a romantic holiday with her husband. 

The two of them walked along the beach in amicable silence, unless Ginny wanted to pause and admire some of the houses she liked to watch along the route. They could see a crowd of people lingering nearer to the harbour from a distance. Since neither of them had any desire to be amongst people, they turned back. 

“Let’s go closer to the water,” she told him, dragging him along. He did not protest. 

As Ginny approached the water, she finally let go of Harry’s hand, which he had kindly given her for as long as she’d held it. 

“What in the world are you doing?” he exclaimed when she bent down to pull her slipper off. 

“You can’t come all the way to the beach and not dip your toes in the ocean,” she said, turning to look at him with disbelief. 

“Oh no, you absolutely can. Please, for my sake, you must try.” 

Ginny ignored him, reaching down and pulling her other slipper off. She took off her hat as well, throwing it off to the side. Now that she was outside the house, there was no need for her to wear the ghastly thing at all, not if it was simply going to block the salty sea air from blowing through her hair. 

Harry gawked at her when she pulled away her stockings, leaving her feet bare against the warm, wet sand. She wriggled her toes, pushing them further into the sand, and laughed happily. 

“You’re mad,” Harry said, shaking his head in disapproval, but a small smile played on his lips. 

“You must join me in my madness.” She pulled on his hand again. “I insist,” she added when he tried to resist. 

Harry yelped as she pulled him closer to the water, the hem of his trousers now soaked from an incoming wave, “I don’t think madness suits me as well as it does you.” 

She snorted, “That’s alright. You’re married to me now, so I have a lifetime to infect you with it.” She reached for his boots herself, unlacing them. “I’ve heard that it spreads quicker in close quarters. And since you and I share a bed every night...” 

Her laughter died when she saw the look on his face. She dropped the shoe she was holding, having taken it off one of his feet, as Harry’s eyes flickered towards her lips. All the humour had left his face as he took half a measured step closer to her. Her palms landed against his chest without any coherent decision-making on her part. Their eyes remained locked for what felt like minutes and the only sound that could be heard was the waves lapping at their feet. 

Ginny licked her lips, tasting the sea on them. The movement made Harry snap out of his daze. He stepped back—she couldn’t guess at why that caused her to feel disappointed—and pushed his hair back out of his face. He was back to his stoic, unaffected self. 

He eyed the water with mistrust as if it was a monster about to swallow him whole.

He shook his head, “It’s cold.” 

Ginny didn’t allow him to retreat though and took his hand again. “Bombay’s just about melting all the damn time, what do you mean cold?” She took another approach and challenged him, “It’s just water, you know?” 

“You won’t give up, will you?” 

“When have you known me to be an obedient wife?” 

Ginny saw him smile, amused at her. He finally sighed and dipped down, taking off his other shoe, followed by his socks. She barely gave him a moment before she used her toes to flick water at him, drenching his trousers even more. 

“You’re entirely unhinged, you are,” he noted as he gave in and began to kick water back into her direction. “I’ll have to have you committed to St Mungo’s.”

“Come on, Potter—be unhinged with me for a change,” she squealed, swerving to avoid a particularly big splash of water he’d sent her way. 

The two of them turned it into a silly competition, which only ended when both of them were drenched enough that neither of them cared about propriety anymore—they were on a secluded enough part of the beach anyway. They sat side by side, the water up to their waist. The tension between them shifted to something soft, comfortable—almost familiar. 

Ginny leaned back on her hands, spreading her legs in front of her, letting the water cool her down. 

Harry mimicked her, a silly grin on his face when he said, “I think I’ve come to admire how utterly unrestrained you are.” 

“Is that a compliment, husband?” 

“Maybe.” 

“And I have begun to think that you may not be as insufferable as I first assumed,” Ginny told him. She wondered if her cheeks would begin to ache if she kept grinning like an idiot. 

Harry sucked in an exaggerated breath, “That’s high praise from you, Weasley.” 

“Aren’t I also a Potter now?” And then, mostly out of curiosity, she asked, “There aren’t many Potters, are there?” 

She’d heard that Harry’s great-grandfather had been a prominent member of the Wizengamot and had descended from a Pureblood family. She’d have imagined there would be more of them. The two lines that she had descended from—Prewetts and Weasleys—had more than enough children to keep them going for many, many generations to come. She was sure that in a few more generations, if someone were to throw a stone, they’d likely hit a Weasley. 

Harry grew quiet. 

“No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I guess my father died before he— I don’t have any siblings. And well, he was the only child as well.”

“It must have been lonely for you as a kid,” Ginny whispered. She wondered if that was why Harry was so self-contained, as if he had no space in his life for more people, as if he was quite used to having to keep his thoughts and fears to himself.

He scratched the tip of his nose, thinking, before he said, “I had my Mum and Sirius, of course.” 

“Sirius, your godfather?” 

“He was my Dad’s best friend and they were quite close.”

“Then you must be close with him as well.” 

Harry visibly hesitated but then continued anyway, “We are quite close now…”

“But?” she pressed.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort, grimacing. She could tell that perhaps there were certain aspects of his past that he did not want to openly talk about. She was about to say that he didn’t need to tell her anything and that she was just being a curious idiot, but he surprised her.  

“Well, when my father died, it sort of tore my mother apart in a way that she never truly recovered from it. Many years later, Sirius told me that she shut herself away from the world, spending all her time taking care of me. Sirius tried to be there for her, to help her, but I guess he couldn’t do much. And well, how long could he have kept his own life on hold? So he poured himself into his work. The first ten years of my life, I barely saw him.” Harry tried to smile, but there was such an intense sorrow in his eyes that it made Ginny’s heart hurt for the lonely young boy he’d once been. “I think I reminded both of them too much of my Dad. And neither of them knew how to deal with his loss.” 

“That’s awful,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it softly, hoping that her touch could relay the solace she was trying to offer him.

“They both got better as I grew up and I— I made more effort to bring the family back together. Sirius started coming over more often and things began to look up. Sure, I would have liked a big family like yours while growing up, but I think my mother did her best, considering the loss she suffered.” 

“Of course, she did, Harry.” Bill had told Ginny just how awful those first few years had been for their mother after their father’s death. “My mother was the same and I think the only reason she was able to cope was because Bill was there to shoulder her burden. Bill brought all of us up just as much as Mum did. And there were days when she just…wasn’t there .” 

Something wordless passed between the two of them—perhaps an odd feeling of fellowship based on some shared pain. Harry used his thumb to draw small circles on the back of her hand.

“I suppose you and I shall be the last of the Potters, then,” he finally said and she knew that he was done talking about his family. She could hear the masked longing in his voice though—he wanted a bigger family, had probably craved for it all his life. She had seen the shadow of envy that crossed his eyes when he sometimes saw her interact with her family. 

She didn’t know if it was because she felt sorry for him or if it was because she had grown to trust and care for him a little, but she found herself quietly whispering, “Since we’re, erm, stuck together for life…I might not be entirely opposed to, er, the idea of maybe, possibly having more Potters in the future…”

“Oh,” he said at first, but he didn’t seem quite confident that he’d understood what she’d offered. Another few seconds passed and he repeated, “ Oh ,” a faint blush now creeping up on his cheeks.

The silence made Ginny panic and all of a sudden, it was quite impossible for her to keep her mouth shut. 

“Of course, I understand if you find me completely appalling…” Harry said nothing. “You know what? Forget what I said. I must have lost my mind there for a second. I guess I got so swept up in the emotions of it all—.” 

Harry grasped her shoulders and instructed, “Ginny—shut up for a second, will you?” 

She did. 

“I don’t find you appalling,” he reassured her. His eyes seemed to twinkle in the moonlight and he brought his hand up to brush a stray lock of damp hair from the side of her face. “At all. Maybe the opposite, actually.” 

“I find you appalling?”

He breathed out a laugh, “No.” Clearing his throat he added, “I mean, I hope not.” She shook her head to confirm his assumption. “Well, that’s a relief. Otherwise, staying married to each other would be a rather difficult prospect. Especially now that I’m not planning on shipping you off to Azkaban.” 

“Yes, I suppose we both have to try harder to stay married now,” Ginny whispered, nervously biting her lower lip. “Now that we’re not at each other’s throats all the time, it feels less impossible to do.” 

“You mean you’re no longer at my throat all the time?” he teased her.

“You can hardly blame me. I had been prepared to be betrothed to some dull Auror who was content to ignore me, but then you turned up. With your perfectly smug attitude and your incessant meddling—you were driving me barmy. I thought that if we married, I would certainly be caught. And so I did my best to misbehave and try to run you off—.” 

“Wait—,” Harry asked, furrowing his brow in interest, “Is that why you brought up all that nonsense about physical compatibility and— and my nocturnal activities? So that I would think that you’re too badly behaved to marry?” 

Ginny averted her gaze, trying to hold back a smile. “Well, I had been hoping that my, er, indecent disposition might put you off…”

His eyes crinkled with amusement. “I have to say that I was quite alarmed when you asked me to kiss you on our first meeting. After that, I had half a mind to break it off, but…”

“Yes?” 

A sudden gush of wind made Ginny shiver lightly. 

“I didn’t want to accept it at the time, but I think I was quite intrigued and even a bit amused by you. And since then…” Harry seemed to lean a bit closer, his head cocked to the side, his intense gaze resting on her face. “...I have realised that I am at least a little bit attracted to you.” 

Ginny swallowed nervously, gaping at him like a fool. She’d not expected Harry to say that—why in the world would someone like him be attracted to her , even if just a little bit? She grew afraid that her thumping heart would jump out of her chest. 

“Why?” she blurted out. Then she felt her cheeks heat up and she immediately clapped her hand against his mouth and said, “Actually, don’t say a word. I’m not sure if I can handle hearing it.” 

Harry gently pried her fingers from his face and his eyes danced with humour. “You’re an attractive woman, Ginny.” 

“I told you not to say anything!” She tried to muffle his mouth again, but he was faster—both his hands closed around her wrists and she was confined in his grasp. 

“You might be the first woman that I’ve met who doesn’t want to be complimented.” 

She squirmed in his hold, arguing, “Compliments can be faked. In fact, they’re fake more often than not.” 

He pulled her closer to him and then said, unblinking, “Do you think I’m lying to you?” 

“No— I don’t know— I can’t be sure.” 

“What would be my motive for lying to you?” 

She paused to think but came up short. Harry smirked at her lack of response. 

“You could be lying to get me into your bed!” she finally suggested. This amused Harry even further and he threw his head back to laugh. 

“Why would I want to do that, unless I was attracted to you?” he offered. Ginny couldn’t argue with that, so she kept her mouth shut. He continued, “And since I am attracted to you, I’m not going to deny that I would love to get you into my bed eventually, but I doubt that insincere compliments would be the way to convince you.” 

She shook her head, trying hard not to focus on whatever else he’d said or she was in immediate danger of looking like a tomato.

“That’s settled then. I’m not lying.” His grip on her wrists slackened and she withdrew her hands, feeling a tingling sensation on every pore he’d touched. The proximity between them was suddenly too close for comfort. When had they slid closer to each other? How long had she been sitting in front of him like this—her damp clothes clinging to her body in suggestive ways? 

He cupped her face tenderly and whispered, “Even if I am attracted to you, I am not going to do anything to make you uncomfortable, Ginny. Not a single untoward move, not ever , not unless you want me to.” 

She shivered again. 

He eyed her shoulders as they shook. 

“We should head back,” he said, pulling his hand away from her to stand up. He offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Shall I Apparate us straight to our room? We can get changed before supper.” 

Ginny nodded absently. He took her hand without hesitation. Ginny was so lost in thought that the next minute, she was standing in her room—no, their room—and Harry had already summoned a couple of warm towels, handing one to her. She watched him brush a towel through his hair and then pause to shuck his drenched robes off his back. 

Harry’s damp shirt was clinging to his back, exposing the ripples of his muscles, the raw strength of them. Ginny was entranced. She swiped her tongue against her lips inattentively, focused on examining every line, every curve of his back as it moved. 

She hadn’t considered the possibility until now, but was there a chance that she could be attracted to her husband too? She remembered kissing him. It hadn’t felt quite so terrible. In fact, it had even caused a little bit of a flutter in her belly. Much better than anything she’d felt with Michael, a boy she’d secretly kissed a few times in school.

Well, there really was only one way to know for sure. 

“Ginny, are you alright?” Harry asked her. She was still clutching the towel in her hand, contemplating her next move. She let the towel drop to the floor and took two measured steps towards him. 

“If you’re attracted to me…” she began. Harry kept his eyes on hers, but she saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “Does that mean you would want to kiss me?” 

This time, it was quite clear to her when his eyes dropped to her lips. His gaze darkened as he watched her—sized her up to be sure of what she was asking of him. 

“If allowed the opportunity, yes,” he confirmed in a breathy voice. 

“What if—,” she began, feeling quite parched. “What if I allow you to kiss me? Just kissing for now, of course. Or perhaps, kissing and a bit of light touching—.” 

Harry’s brows shot up. “ Touching ?” His grip seemed to tighten around the towel, the muscles of his forearms twitching as he did so. 

“I’m not proposing that we get naked quite yet…” 

“What are you proposing exactly?” He loomed closer, as if it took him great effort to hold himself away. Ginny took half a step forward—because she wanted to be brave, but also because there was a part of her who craved being close to him, to be able to touch him, to cling to him as he touched her . 

She took a breath and pushed forward with the most stable and practical voice she could muster, “I’m proposing that we kiss and maybe touch each other a bit without taking any clothes off.” She felt compelled to add, “For now.” 

And just like that, Harry’s emerald eyes grew even darker. 

His voice was husky when he asked, “Right now?” 

“I don’t see why not. I mean, we could possibly wait—.”

But Harry must not have been interested in waiting, because as soon as she’d offered her consent, he threw his towel to the side and closed the distance between them in one long stride. And then all at once, his lips landed on hers.

***

Life could change drastically in a couple of weeks—Harry was living proof of that. Because a couple of weeks ago, he could not have imagined being attracted to his insolent wife, who would also turn out to be the notorious pirate he’d been hired to hunt down. 

But here he was, two weeks later, pulling her as close as he could, feeling her pliant lips surrender to his. 

Of course, he’d wanted to kiss her for a while. Clad in her green summer dress, forgoing a corset like she generally did, Ginny had practically tempted him all evening. She’d pulled them both into the sea—either the woman was entirely unaware that watching her dress cling to her wet body would drive him insane, or she was torturing him on purpose. 

And then she’d gone ahead and made bold claims about being open to having children with him? What was he supposed to do— not confess that the more he got to know her, the more he’d begun to fancy her? 

He’d been ready to stay away from her, to keep his distance, to never burden her with his need to have her. After all, she didn’t need to know why he’d taken to spending a bit longer than necessary in the bath these last two mornings. 

But he should have seen it coming. Ginny Weasley had subverted his expectations and assumptions at every step, so why would this be any different? He didn’t know whether she was also attracted to him or if she was simply taking pity on him and letting him have a taste. Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. He’d take whatever she allowed him to.

Harry was proud of himself for having enough control over his body to take it slow. He kissed her languidly, allowing her time to adjust. He didn’t know whether she’d ever been kissed before—apart from that one kiss she’d demanded from him and another at their wedding—but she couldn’t have been too experienced. And the last thing he wanted was to scare her away by escalating too quickly. 

So he kept his palms glued to the small of her back, a safe distance away from her hips and even further away from her chest, which was distractingly on display, thanks to her thin, damp cotton dress. 

Harry slowly deepened the kiss, letting his tongue gently brush against her lower lip. His heart soared when she allowed him entry, her tongue running along his, both cautious and curious. He held back a groan when her teeth grazed against his lips, causing a shiver to run down his spine. 

To his surprise, Ginny began to take control of the kiss, no longer satisfied with Harry’s leisurely pace. She pressed herself closer to him, moving her lips— oh, so demanding —and letting her hands roam along his shoulders, his back. Through his moist shirt, he felt every gentle caress. 

He almost whined in disappointment when she pulled back. 

Even when she’d been thoroughly kissed, Ginny could look vexed. 

“Why are you holding back?” she demanded. Her nostrils flared the way they usually did whenever she lost her temper, which was often enough that he’d gotten used to the sight. “Do you not want to touch me?” 

“That’s not it,” he told her, kissing the tip of her nose. “I simply don’t want to move too quickly and spook you—.”

“Harry, I asked you to kiss me because I want to be touched. So, can you please, for once, stop acting like a complete gentleman ,” she said as if it was the highest form of insult she could offer him, “and put your hands on me?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he said dutifully and felt her pull him back into a kiss. 

This time, Harry finally gave his hands permission to roam—the lady had requested it, after all. He let one hand travel down to trace the curve of her hips while the other brushed against her collarbone. When Ginny arched further into his hold, he finally disconnected from her lips and trailed kisses down her neck. His hand cupped her breast, making her whimper against his ear and the noise travelled straight to his groin. Thanks to the wet cotton fabric and the lack of a corset, he was able to feel the hardened tip of her nipple grazing against his palm. 

Harry traced his tongue along Ginny’s neck—he nibbled on her ear, sucked lightly on her pulse point, and then let his tongue dip down between the fetching valley of her breasts. He used his fingers to hungrily pull down her neckline, exposing more of her creamy, freckled skin to his mouth. He saw her red birthmark, the one he’d been haunted by since that day on the ship, and nibbled on it, making her pant with need.

He became dimly aware that his painful arousal was tenting his trousers, longing to be freed. Ginny must have felt him against her belly because she momentarily stepped back, her eyes clouded with confusion and, he was proud to notice, desire. Her cheeks coloured when she whispered, “ Oh .”

“I suppose you now have proof of my attraction towards you,” Harry said cheekily. 

She blushed further. 

Harry found that he enjoyed it immensely when he could get Ginny to shut up. And if he needed to kiss her again and again to accomplish the feat, he was frankly quite up to the task. 

He brought her back into his embrace and she didn’t protest when he kissed her once more. There was a frantic urgency in both their movements now. Harry felt her fumbling fingers seeking the buttons on his shirt. Her nails scraped against his chest as she parted his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders. Her breath hitched when she pulled back to look at him, her eyes wandering over his chest and abdomen. Her cheeks flooded with colour as she studied him in the firelight. 

This only made Harry grow more impatient—he longed to feel her against him. And now, somewhere in the back of his mind, the hope that he would soon get to see her bared in front of him was starting to take root. 

Ginny whimpered when he pulled her flush against his chest. He covered her mouth with his own for another kiss—he was unlikely to ever stop wanting to kiss this woman and now that she was his wife, he didn’t have to—and let his hands wander again. He swiped his hand against her rib cage, bringing it up to cup her breast again, kneading with more intent than before. She gasped against his lips, but pushed further into his hand. 

Harry was surprised but also extremely aroused when Ginny’s leg came up to wrap around his thigh, making her core rub wantonly against his erection. He couldn’t help the strangled groan that erupted from his lips. She moved again, deliberately rolling her hips against his and it took all of his willpower to not lower her to the floor, rip her damn dress off, and plunge his cock into her. 

“Ginny,” he complained, using his hands to still the movement of her hips. He pulled his lips back from hers and whispered against her cheek, “If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to stop.” 

She swallowed, her throat moving slowly, before responding, “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.” 

Harry felt his jaw twitch. “You don’t mean that.” 

He could see that she was seconds away from pouting in frustration, but he remembered the boundaries she’d set before this had started. No matter how tempted he was, the last thing Harry wanted was for Ginny to regret doing more than she was ready for. If they wanted this relationship to work—neither of them could afford for it not to —they would have to show restraint. To burn too high and fast might endanger the fragile friendship they’d begun to build. 

So he decided to be the voice of reason. 

“Only kissing and a bit of touching,” he reminded her. 

She let out a long breath and straightened up, her leg moving off his. She nodded in understanding, pushing her skirt back into place. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted finally. “I didn’t mean to get so carried away.” She tucked her hair behind her ear—he could tell that she was feeling embarrassed. 

“Trust me, I want us to get carried away, at some point,” he reassured her. He took her wrist, pulling her close to his chest again. He kissed her softly. “But we have all the time in the world, don’t we? There’s no need to rush this.” 

She nodded, a smile playing at her lips. 

Knock, knock, knock…

Instinctively, they jumped apart. 

“Harry! Ginny!” 

It was Ron.

Harry was suddenly very aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and that his wet trousers were clinging to the shape of his partial erection.

Ron’s voice rang through the hallway. “Dinner’s ready! And if you two don’t get down here in the next five minutes, I’m eating your share!”

“Well, he could have had worse timing,” Ginny remarked with a nervous laugh. “I’ll let him know that we’re joining in five.” She raked her eyes over his half-dressed state. “Do you want to change first?” 

He nodded and grabbed his change of clothes. 

Another knock, more impatient this time. “Oi, I know you’re in there!”

Ginny rolled her eyes and swore under her breath as she made her way to their bedroom door. Harry heard Ron exclaim something about Ginny’s appearance before he shuffled into the bathroom to change, feeling both frustrated but also immensely pleased by the unexpected turn of events. 

***

Throughout dinner, Ginny felt Harry’s eyes on her more often than not. A part of her felt restless, wanting the dinner to conclude as quickly as possible, while another part of her was nervous about being alone with him again, not sure how their changed dynamic would impact their delicate partnership. 

She was also very embarrassed at how desperately she’d clung to him during their heated kiss. Hell, she’d been minutes away from fucking herself on his leg, shamelessly seeking relief from the fire he’d lit within her. 

She wondered if he was questioning her modesty because of her behaviour. 

Sure, she’d never been a stickler for the suffocating rules that polite society demanded that women stick to, but Ginny had never crossed the line beyond a few stolen but mostly chaste kisses with Michael. And then one kiss with her husband had somehow turned her into some wanton tart. 

“I don’t know why you both must leave so soon.” Ginny snapped her head to look at her mother, trying her best to pay attention to her family. 

Fred was quick to sigh dramatically and announce, “We must travel to find ingredients for a new range of products we are planning to launch. Our Owl Post business is flourishing, Mum. Must you insist on continuing to ignore our choice of career?” 

“Your brothers have found great jobs here to stay close to the family.” She stared accusingly between Fred and George. “Why can’t you both do the same? I wish you would find girls from decent families and settle down. Like the rest of your siblings have.” 

“Have we cut Charlie from the family tree, or have you forgotten that he is still a bachelor?”

George added helpfully, “He is also working from China to pursue his passion instead of staying here with his family.” 

“And Ginny’s going to be moving to England in a couple of months, isn’t she?” Fred gestured absently towards where she was sitting. “She will be on a different continent than us.” 

“All the more reason to stay here while you can,” their mother snapped. “How can you think of travelling when you know that your sister will be moving away s-so s-s-soon…” And then she was sobbing into her napkin. 

Bill was quick to jump up and console their mother, glaring at Fred and George. 

Fred held up his hands, “What? We’re not the ones moving her daughter away. Blame Harry!” 

Ginny looked up to see her husband squirm uncomfortably at the accusation, staring at his roast with exaggerated interest. 

She felt compelled to defend him. “It’s not like he wants to take me away. But one of us has to leave their family behind and since I don’t have a career here…” She let the words hang in the air. Her family had opposed her working at the village after the incident with Mr Murthy, including Fred and George, so they were quick to sink back into their chairs in shame. 

Only Ron had supported her, but he’d been outvoted by the rest of their family. 

“We’ll both be back before you travel to England, of course,” George assured her to cut through the awkwardness. Bill took his chair once more and their mother dabbed her eyes, sniffling softly. 

She looked towards Harry apologetically, “I’m sorry, Harry. None of us blame you, of course. It’s just tough to accept that our Ginny will be so very far away from us.” 

“Mum…” Ginny whispered softly. 

When the two of them made it back to their bedroom, Harry and Ginny were quiet, their heated kiss forgotten. Neither of them said anything, falling back into their nightly routine. Harry wrote a letter hunched over her desk while she curled up in her reading chair with a book. 

About an hour later, the two of them changed into their night clothes and climbed into bed together. 

The proximity brought back the memory of their kiss. 

Ginny cleared her throat, hoping to start some form of a conversation with Harry. 

His back was to her but she could hear his even breathing. 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“For kissing me?” she asked, unable to hold back the bite of disappointment. 

“What?” Harry exclaimed, turning back to look at her in alarm. “No! Of course not!” He turned around fully, facing her. Ginny turned her body towards him as well. They lay face to face, very little distance between them. She could smell his musky perfume—it reminded her of rainy days in Bombay—the smell of wet earth, fresh shrubbery, and cinnamon. 

“What are you sorry for then?” 

He met her eyes and she saw the shame in them. 

“I’m taking you away from your entire family.” He raked his hand through his messy hair. He squinted at her, having kept his glasses away for the night. “From your friends, your country, your cause . It’s not fair.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Ginny accepted. She didn’t like it either, having to leave the country she’d called home for a large part of her life, to have to move away from her mother, her brothers, her sisters-in-law, the many children they’d all inevitably have. Even if she could travel to see them, it would be at least a few years between every visit. She’d eventually become a stranger—a relative still, but not quite so familiar. 

“It would have been better if our fathers had never made such a careless promise,” Harry said bitterly. 

His words were like a stab to Ginny’s heart. 

Because they were true, weren’t they? 

How could a kiss change the fact that Ginny would have to give up her life, her entire world, for a man who she was barely friends with? This marriage had cost her a lot and though there was a part of her that had come to like and respect Harry, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d lost more than she’d found in this marriage. 

“Yes, it might’ve been better that way,” she found herself agreeing. 

She saw the hurt in his eyes. 

“I wish I could change this, I really do.” 

Without another word, Harry turned away again, and Ginny was left on her own, wondering how they’d gone from spending a pleasant day together to turning their backs to each other, the silence between them stretching endlessly.

Chapter Text

“I was thinking…” 

“Yes?” Harry looked up from his breakfast. Ginny sat across from him, sipping her tea, seemingly lost in thought. 

“We’re going to be in Simla for the honeymoon,” she stated casually. “And I was thinking we could use this trip to our advantage.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, the Anglo-Indian Ministry has two main offices here in India—Delhi, the capital, but also, Simla.”

Harry was taken aback. 

“Why Simla? Why not a more strategic city like Bombay or even Madras?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and said, “It’s because Simla has more pleasant weather.” 

“You’re serious?” 

“Very,” she confirmed, taking a bite of her buttered toast. “The Ministry splits its time between Delhi and Simla. Simla is what they call their ‘summer capital’ and the Ministry officials move to Simla during the summer months.”

Harry found himself staring when her tongue swiped out to collect the stray crumbs of bread from her lips. 

“That’s a bit silly, isn’t it?” he suggested, hastily looking away. Ginny chuckled in agreement. 

“Anyway, if we’re going to be there for five days, we could perhaps make up an excuse to visit the Ministry. We could gather some information about which department is responsible for overseeing the magical trade agreements in the country. If we could track down the person responsible and then find the original trade agreements, we could possibly end the trade once and for all.” 

“Hmm…” Harry pondered the idea. He scooped up a few beans onto the end of his toast and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “And how would we gain entry into the Simla Ministry in the first place?” 

Ginny slipped her fingers into her loose hair and pushed them back from her neck. Harry was distracted by the graceful outline of her neck, briefly remembering their kiss from two days ago. His eyes darted up to her pink lips again, just as she said, “Well, you’re an Auror. Can’t you make up an excuse to go meet the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or something?”

“What excuse?”

Ginny waved his worry away. “We’ll think of something.” Then she paused, hesitating. “And if we don’t, I know someone that may be able to help us…”

Harry got the feeling that she didn’t want to divulge who her contact was at the moment, so he didn’t press for it. 

Things had been more pleasant with Ginny in general, and he didn’t want to risk going back to a time when they hadn’t been able to trust each other. 

Neither of them had spoken about their kiss nor had they tried to initiate any physical contact again. He’d stayed away because of the guilt of having to rip Ginny away from her family in less than two months. And the fact that the two of them were attracted to each other hadn’t much affected that one truth. Maybe she was staying away for the same reason—she probably hated his guts for being the person who got to stay with his family when she had to leave hers. And there was no better reason for it than simple patriarchy. 

The truth was that Ginny was expected to leave her family and come live with him. He hadn’t made the rules, but he was content to benefit from them. And maybe if she’d loved him, it would have been an easier sacrifice to make. But the way things were between them, Harry could hardly blame her for not wanting to kiss him again. 

“I checked with Amara,” Ginny said, barely glancing up from her sausage. She was a prolific eater, Harry had noticed. “I’m not sure if we can recover all of your family jewels, but I have asked her to have Ali return at least the engagement ring, like you asked.” 

“Who is Ali?” he asked, pleased to hear that he might have his ring back soon.

“He’s a local collector who works in a shop called Mani and Mantra in the Maya Gully. It’s like this street full of shops and establishments that some, er, dark wizards and witches frequent. He buys some of the rarer goods we can sometimes find. He is always looking for magical artefacts or rare pieces of jewellery to sell to his clientele.” 

“So it’s like the Indian version of Knockturn Alley, then?” Harry asked, amused that there was this similarity between the English and Indian magical communities. 

“The what?” Ginny’s confused expression made him realise that she had no clue what Knockturn Alley was. 

“It’s this magical street in England, hidden from the Muggles. It’s two streets actually—Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. Knockturn Alley has a bit of a reputation for, erm, less than legal activities,” he explained. 

“Ah,” Ginny said, nodding in understanding. “Well, Maya Gully is almost exactly like that. And then there’s also Jyotir Gully, which is a bit more family-friendly, I suppose. Is your Diagon Alley like that as well?” 

“Yes, pretty much.” 

“Well, Ali should be able to get your ring back from whomever’s bought it.” 

“Someone’s bought it already?” Harry asked worriedly. He had assumed that getting his ring back would have been simpler. 

Ginny was apologetic when she said, “I’m sorry. If I had known that it had been important to you…”

Harry sank back in his chair. He couldn’t blame her—she hadn’t done it on purpose. “Of course, you couldn’t have known.” He scratched his chin, feeling the growing stubble on his face. “It was the ring my father proposed to my mother with. I always thought that when I fell in love with someone, I would present them with that very ring and propose.” 

Ginny blinked, her brows furrowing together with regret, “That sounds wonderful. I’ll get it back for you, I promise.” 

“Well, my mother had sent it for you, so I suppose you were meant to have it.” 

Ginny pressed her lips together. An unreadable expression flashed across her face, and she turned away from him when she said, “I have no right to that ring, Harry. It’s a symbol of love. And it doesn’t belong in a loveless marriage, does it?” 

She wasn’t wrong, but Harry found himself feeling rather irked by her remark. 

“Right,” he said, unable to add anything else to the conversation. He picked up his tea and emptied it in one go, springing to his feet. “I’ll see you tonight then?” 

Ginny flashed him an amiable smile and waved her hand in goodbye. 

Harry Apparated straight to the Bombay Auror Office for his last day of work before he was forced into an almost week-long vacation with his wife. 

***

Ginny fiddled with the ring on her finger, feeling nervous. Her entire family stood in the yard to see them off for their honeymoon. Harry was clutching the small bag which contained their clothing and personal items—Hermione had been kind enough to cast an Extension Charm to save them the hassle of carrying multiple bags.

“I have received an owl from Mrs Hardcastle. Everything is set up at the cottage. And you both should have plenty of rest and privacy for your holiday,” her mother spoke, looking between Ginny and Harry. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered and dropped a kiss on Ginny’s cheek and then turned to Harry. “And you—,” her finger wiggled with a threat, “—you better not work over there. The Red Fury can wait for a week.”

Ginny saw her husband dart his eyes towards her for a second but he quickly bowed his head in respect and accepted her mother’s command. “Yes, Mrs Weasley.” Her mother patted his cheek affectionately and Ginny noticed real fondness in Harry’s eyes. She was grateful to him for having warmed up to her family so completely in the short time he’d been here. 

“Well, here you are,” Bill said and offered the empty bottle of FireWhisky that had been enchanted to be a Portkey. The entire family erupted in words of farewell. 

Harry and Ginny shared one last look and then grabbed the bottle at the same time. 

She felt the familiar tug behind her navel. The Weasley bungalow faded from view and her stomach churned uncomfortably, making Ginny wish that she’d stopped herself from savouring that extra helping of bacon for breakfast. After what felt like a long half-minute, she landed on her feet, but wobbled. She waved her arms in alarm to try and regain her balance but yelped when she realised that she was going to go down. At the very last second, an arm tightened around her waist and she was pulled upright. 

She landed against Harry’s chest. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes searching her face for signs of discomfort or injury. 

“Yes, thank you,” she confirmed. His arm was still gripping her waist and she was secretly relishing the closeness. She glanced at his lips, wondering if he would ever kiss her again. Did he regret it? Had he kissed her and realised that she was entirely undesirable? She wanted to ask him, but she didn’t think that women were supposed to demand intimacy anyway, so she kept her mouth shut. “I’m not very used to travelling by Portkeys.” 

He finally let go of her and stepped back. 

“Yes, I quite dislike the feeling as well.” 

The two of them turned to see where they had landed. Across the gravelly path that they were on stood a small, cosy cottage that seemed to have jumped out of one of Ginny’s romance novels. Standing against the backdrop of the misty cedar forests of Simla, the cottage exuded a delicate charm. Built of weathered grey stone and dark wooden beams, the house had a sloped roof, along which a creeper had woven itself to create a trellis of bright pink and red flowers. The soft golden sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above completed the fairytale.

“Charming,” Harry remarked, gesturing for her to take the lead. 

She climbed the porch, eyeing the elegant French windows on the front of the cottage, before she rapped on the carved wooden door. The door swung open on its own, its hinges squeaking as she entered. Ginny stepped inside cautiously, and Harry followed closely behind. 

The insides of the cottage were just as rustic as the outside. A stone fireplace dominated the sitting room, with two plush armchairs flanking it on either side. A soft, Kashmiri rug was sprawled between the two chairs, creating the perfect spot to relax and unwind with a good book. There were a couple of old bookshelves standing on the left, housing a decent collection of books. 

On the opposite end of the room, a small dining table, capable of seating only two people, stood in front of a massive window that opened to a view of the hilly slopes outside. A couple of doors seemed to lead to other rooms, which Ginny was eager to explore. She also spotted the small staircase tucked to the side, which seemed to lead to a small, open first floor. 

“Isn’t there someone here to greet us?” she wondered out loud. 

CRACK !

Ginny jumped back in surprise when the house-elf materialised in front of her. The elf bowed deeply, its ears drooping forward as it bent. 

“Welcome to Rosewood Cottage, master and mistress,” the elf croaked. “Moti is delighted to be at your service during your stay here. Moti’s mistress, Mrs Hardcastle, sends her regards. She hopes that you will find the rest and reclusion you seek at her charming cottage.” 

Ginny had very little experience with house-elves, so she shifted from foot to foot, unsure of how to respond. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, taking a step past her and acknowledging the elf, who straightened up at his voice. “Moti, is it?” he confirmed. 

“Yes, master. Will you be needing anything from Moti right now?” 

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind a pot of tea,” Harry said, glancing her way to seek her opinion. Ginny cleared her throat and nodded in agreement. 

Moti bowed again and disappeared.  

“Are you alright?” Harry eyed her. “You don’t look very comfortable with the elf?” 

“I guess I have never met one before,” she admitted. 

“You’ve never met a house-elf before?” Harry’s eyes widened in shock. 

“Well, we were never rich enough to have had house-elves. Not in England and certainly not here.” She found that she was suddenly aware that she was stuck in this tiny cottage with her husband for the next five nights, with only a house-elf to keep them company. The thought made her extremely nervous. “We grew up without help of any kind. It was only after Ron started his job as an Auror and after Fred and George began to sell their joke products for some profit that we were even able to afford to have Leela.” 

“Oh,” Harry responded. He brushed the back of his hair awkwardly. “Well, I grew up with two very dedicated house-elves. They came with the Potter house and they were born in service to my family. So I suppose I feel quite comfortable around house-elves.” 

“Do me a favour and don’t tell Hermione that,” Ginny advised him, her lips twitching teasingly. “She has written many letters to the Indian Ministry of Magic to allow house-elves to be paid for their labour and to be given benefits such as paid vacation, health insurance, and even suggested that they have a union to present worker demands.” 

Harry chuckled. “She does know that the house-elves prefer things the way they are?” 

Ginny couldn’t help herself from schooling him. “You do know that they have been brainwashed and institutionalised into liking their free labour? It’s quite similar to patriarchy, actually. If you ask most women, they’ll tell you that they are quite happy to sit at home, feeding and rearing children, whilst their husbands go out and live a full life. It’s because, for generations, they’ve been made to believe that there is nothing else for them out there.” 

He didn’t say anything, simply tilted his head to the side and watched her. A small smile of amusement played at his lips. She supposed that he thought of her as some ranting, hysterical female. 

“You’re right, of course,” he finally said. She looked up in surprise. She’d never had a man admit that he was wrong. Ever . “Maybe when you and I return to England, we can offer Dobby and Kreacher a salary and some paid vacation. I’m not sure if they will even know what to do with themselves on a vacation, but I’m sure we can convince them to take some time off.” 

And then he grinned ear to ear, clearly very happy with his suggestion. 

Ginny remained where she was, still quite stunned that her husband had just agreed to give his house-elves a salary and paid vacation. 

“Why?” she blurted. 

He was taking a turn about the room, eyeing the bookshelves. When he heard her, he paused and turned to look at her. 

“Why what?” 

“Why would you pay your house-elves?” 

He looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure why she would even ask this. “Because you clearly believe that that’s the right course of action,” he said casually. 

“Why does it matter what I believe?” she asked, not sure if he understood what she was asking. 

“Ginny, you’re my wife, the Lady of Potter Manor,” he told her. “And I know that you have far better talents than simply running our house and I fully support you having your own career, but I would like you to be able to decide how we do things in our house moving forward.” 

Our house , he’d said. Not his, theirs . 

Before Ginny could form any words to express the gratitude in her heart, there was another loud crack in the room and Moti appeared again with a tray. 

“Here is some tea for you, master and mistress,” she said. “Perhaps you’d like to have it in the backyard.” 

“Backyard sounds good,” Harry immediately agreed. “We are here for the fresh air, after all.” 

And before she could stop herself, Ginny found herself snorting and saying, “I wasn’t aware that fresh air featured greatly in honeymoons,” as they followed Moti through the door to the backyard. 

Harry glanced up at her, a sly smile on his face as he teased her, “Well, this is my first honeymoon, of course, but I’m guessing that couples must crave some breaks from their marital congress.” 

Ginny chuckled, mildly surprised at how easy it was for them to do this—a back and forth of words and laughs. Even if they had nothing else going for them, at the very least, she could find herself becoming good friends with her husband one day. 

Momentarily rendered speechless by the bright rays of the sun on the outside, Ginny stumbled towards the small patio table that Moti was leading them towards. The paint was peeling off from the wrought-iron set of a table and two chairs, perhaps due to years of exposure. Ginny settled herself into one of the chairs and Harry took the other.

Moti lowered the tray between them and disappeared almost instantly. 

Ginny sighed deeply, inhaling the scent of mist, damp earth, and pine. A cool breeze rustled through the deodar trees, making her shiver. The great green slopes around them and the chirping of birds reminded her of similar vacations her family had taken when she was younger. 

She reached for the kettle at the same time as Harry. Their fingers brushed together and a chill ran down her spine. Ginny looked up to see his emerald eyes boring into hers, making her flush and retreat. 

He took her cup and poured her some tea. 

“I know you don’t prefer English tea,” he said, adding a bit of milk and sugar to her cup and handing it to her. 

“Thank you,” she told him as she took the cup from him. “I can have English tea once in a while. I don’t know if I feel comfortable making demands of Moti yet. And I am quite inept in the kitchen myself. So I have no choice, I suppose.” 

Harry took a sip of his own tea and sighed, “Alright, I’ll admit it—fresh air seems to be just what I needed. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed a view like this, with nothing but free days in my immediate future.” 

Ginny smirked, and only managed to take a few sips of her tea—it really was too bland for her to enjoy. “And here I thought you’d be dragging me off to work the minute we arrived here. Did you actually just admit to enjoying yourself?” 

“I haven’t had many occasions for such holidays in my life,” he admitted, his voice softening. Something about his tone made Ginny’s heart squeeze in sympathy. In many ways, she’d been much luckier than Harry. “But if we can come back someday, I’d like to bring my mother here. I think she might enjoy it.” 

“Do you think we could ever come back to India?” she asked, not sure if he had meant what he’d said. 

Harry’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he watched her. “Of course, your family is here. And I know that my mother would love to visit the land of my ancestors. I don’t know if I can convince Sirius to take some time off—.”

“The land of your what?” Ginny exclaimed, not sure if she’d heard him correctly. 

“Er,” Harry paused. “I guess we’ve never spoken about this. But my grandmother was Indian.”

“You’re joking!” 

“I am not, I assure you. It was a poorly kept secret too. My grandfather, Fleamont Potter, was a renowned potioneer who travelled a lot for his work. He fell in love with my grandmother during his travels. They married in secret and he brought her back. Of course, it was quite the scandal in those days, especially given my family’s pureblood standing. My great grandfather, Henry, asked my grandmother to change her name, to try and fit with the English wizarding society a bit better. So that’s how she got the name Euphemia.” 

“What was her name originally?” 

“Eravathi, I think.” 

Ginny blinked at him, momentarily stunned. “Wait—you mean to tell me that all this time you’ve had Indian heritage, and you never thought to mention it?”

Harry shrugged, looking slightly sheepish. “It just never really came up. I didn’t exactly grow up with a strong connection to it. My grandmother died before I was born, and well, I never had the chance to speak to my Dad about her either. I think he was proud of her, but he was raised in England, surrounded by pureblood expectations. Of course, he shattered those expectations entirely by marrying my Muggle-born mother.”

Ginny frowned, tilting her head as she studied him. “But your mother—does she know about it?”

“She does,” Harry said, scratching his nose thoughtfully. “I think she was fascinated when she found out. She even tried looking up information about my grandmother’s family, but there wasn’t much. My grandmother was forced to cut ties completely when she left India. I think her pureblood Indian family was more opposed to the match than even my family. And well, once she made it to England, she had to make sure that her past stayed buried.”

“That’s awful,” Ginny murmured. “To be forced to erase your identity like that.”

Harry nodded, swirling the tea in his cup absently. “Yeah. Sirius used to tell me stories about how my grandmother never quite fit into British wizarding high society, even though she tried. She used to cook these elaborate Indian meals, and my grandfather adored them. She spoke Hindi at home sometimes, but my Dad was never taught. Except for a few words here and there.” 

Ginny’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “And what about you? Do you know any Hindi?”

“None whatsoever.” 

Silence stretched between them, but it was comfortable, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. They exchanged a smile—it was something that felt like true friendship. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, having to spend her life with Harry. He was kind, a bit too noble perhaps, but also quite funny at times. And most importantly, he made it easy for her to be herself around him. 

Finally, Ginny broke the quiet. “Well, I, for one, think it’s a shame you never learned the language properly. Maybe I should start teaching you.”

Harry’s eyebrow shot up in amusement and he played into her game. “Alright then, Professor Potter. What’s my first lesson?”

Ginny tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. Then, smirking, she said, “Let’s start with something useful. Try saying, ‘Ginny is the most brilliant witch in the world.’”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Nice try.”

Ginny grinned. “You’ll say it one day.” 

Later that night, Ginny was curled up in the reading chair, reading one of the romance novels she’d found on the bookshelf. It was hardly intelligent reading, but it was enough to entertain her for some time. And it wasn’t like there was much else to be done here. This small cottage was meant for a single purpose—for couples to have sex. Therefore, the house offered few means of entertainment. In fact, the entire first floor was a bedroom with a large, comfortable bed, decorated with cosy pillows and blankets to huddle underneath. Right above the bed was a skylight, allowing not only a view of the starry night sky, but also lighting up the room in natural moonlight. It was designed to be romantic and intimate. 

She knew that she was stalling having to retire for the night. While she could safely stay away from Harry in her boring, unromantic bedroom, it seemed almost an impossibility to be able to ignore her attraction to her husband in that blasted sex room. 

She glanced at the clock above the fireplace—it was almost ten. She had to go to bed at some point. She could be an adult, couldn’t she? And Harry would probably be asleep already. So all she had to do was slip into bed without a sound. And then ignore the warmth that often radiated from his side of the bed. Yes, as long as she could do both those things, she could safely get through the first night. 

Having convinced herself to stop being a coward, Ginny used her wand to dim the lights in the sitting room and quietly made her way up the stairs. She expected Harry to already be asleep, so she was surprised to see him awake, sitting on his side of the bed, scribbling into a piece of parchment. He looked up at the sound of her feet. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he said, smiling at her. 

“You were waiting for me?” 

“Well, I was feeling quite peckish,” he said, putting his parchment and quill to the side and sliding off the bed to stand. He walked over to the small table in the room and it was only then that Ginny noticed that there was a small tray with pudding and a pot of tea on there. Harry brought the tray over to the bed just as Ginny sat down on her end. “So I put together some pudding and tea for us. And well, I didn’t want to have it without you. We are on our honeymoon, after all.” 

Ginny noticed the little dip he got in his cheeks when he smiled. There was a boyish charm to him when he got excited about things. The more she gazed at him, the more her heart seemed to pound erratically.

“You put this together yourself?” she asked. 

He glanced up at her and shrugged. “Well, there was a lot of pudding left over from dinner.” 

She accepted a small serving of sticky toffee pudding from him. He was also about to pour her a cup of tea, when she put up her hand and stopped him. “No, it’s alright. I think I’ve had my fill of English tea.” 

“Trust me, you want this tea,” Harry said and poured some anyway. 

And then she smelled it—the aroma of ginger, cinnamon and cardamom creating the perfect medley with black tea leaves and milk. It was a cup of masala chai !

“What? How ?” she squealed in disbelief. Bringing the cup to her nose, Ginny inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell she was basically addicted to. “I can’t believe Moti knew how to make this.” 

“Er…” Harry hesitated. 

“No!” she whispered when she realised what his silence meant. “ You made this? For me ?” 

Harry flushed a little, nervously fiddling with his collar. “Er yeah, I saw you cringe at that cup of tea in the morning and I’m not entirely inept in the kitchen. I looked through the bookshelf here and found a book called Essential Indian Recipes and luckily, it had the recipe I needed.” 

Ginny was speechless, simply staring at her husband as she felt something unfamiliar but warm uncurl in her chest. Harry had brewed her masala chai because he’d noticed her dislike for English tea. 

It was such a small thing, but at the same time, not . 

Feeling touched, she carefully sipped the tea. The spiced warmth spread through her like a comforting hug. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, meeting Harry’s eyes, who was watching her for a reaction. 

His face split into a wide grin—he looked ridiculously pleased with himself. “Yeah?” 

“Of course it is. I still can’t believe you made this for me. Thank you,” she told him. 

For some time, they ate in comfortable silence—the only sounds in the room were the occasional clinking of spoons against porcelain and the distant chirping of crickets in the woods behind the house. 

Ginny sighed happily, taking the last bite of her pudding. She licked the back of her spoon for good measure and then ran her tongue along her lower lip to clean up the last of the toffee. Her gaze flickered to Harry, only to find him watching her already. 

Even in the dim candlelight, she could tell that she wasn’t imagining the way he was staring at her lips—full of desire and need. Ginny became very aware of how close they were sitting, separated only by the space of a tray. She could feel the air between them shift, something unspoken, something urgent, something heavy and charged making its way between them. 

Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward.

Their lips met, soft and slow, tasting of sugar and spice. Harry inhaled sharply through his nose and Ginny felt his palms land on her waist. He attempted to pull her closer, but she crashed into the tray, causing a tea cup to topple and spill the last sip of tea. They pulled away from each other, sharing a laugh at their clumsiness. Harry wordlessly levitated the tray away from the bed and then tossed his wand away towards his bedside drawer to remove any further hindrances. 

Ginny barely had a second to process before Harry was kissing her again—deeper this time, slower, as if savouring her. His hand slid up her back, pressing her closer, and she went willingly, straddling his lap as her fingers buried themselves in his unruly hair. 

This kiss was different from any they’d shared before. It was unhurried, as if it was meant for the sole purpose of deliberate and thorough exploration. In the eerie silence of the hills, Ginny felt every caress, every brush, and every squeeze of his fingers. 

They pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, breaths mingling.

Harry swallowed, his hands still firm on her waist. “Ginny...”

“Yes?” she asked, her voice husky and low. 

Harry searched her face. Whatever he found there was enough to reassure him, because without another word, he kissed her again. 

They tumbled into the bed together. They kissed for what felt like a long time—tongues caressing, limbs tangling, hands touching. Neither of them seemed to be in a hurry to take any clothes off or to seek any relief. There was just a slow, patient appreciation of the underrated art of kissing another person. 

Eventually, exhaustion overtook them. 

Ginny’s eyes began to droop, even as Harry was pressing soft kisses to her neck. 

“Mm…” she moaned. 

But Harry must have known that she was too tired to continue. He drew her close, letting her curl herself into his chest. After pressing one last kiss against her forehead, Harry whispered, “Good night, Ginny.” 

“Good night, Harry.” 

***

Harry woke up alone—the side on which Ginny had slept seemed to be cold, signalling that she’d been awake for a while. He sighed and sank back into the pillows, remembering the soft kisses and cuddles they’d shared the night before. 

They had kissed—properly. Repeatedly. And it hadn’t been just a kiss fuelled by desperation or lust. It was the kind of kiss that made it impossible to think, the kind that left him aching and restless long after she’d fallen asleep curled up beside him.

A part of him had wanted to do a lot more than that though and that part was very much awake as well.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, subtly adjusting his erection in his pyjama bottoms. Since he’d gotten married to Ginny, he’d woken up painfully hard more often than not. Every morning was a challenge of having to hide his arousal from the very object of his attraction. And this was perhaps the first morning when she was mercifully absent from his side. Harry wondered if he could slip quickly into a bath and relieve himself of his affliction. 

Before he could move to sneak into the bathroom though, he heard the stairs creak. Ginny came gliding up the stairs, bubbling with obvious excitement. Harry grabbed the coverlet and pulled it urgently, managing to hide his pelvis just in time for her to sit down on the bed, holding up a piece of parchment, smirking triumphantly. 

“What is this?” Harry asked, squinting at the piece of parchment she threw at him. He looked around to try and find his glasses. Ginny beat him to it and held them up in front of his face. “Thank you,” he said, pushing them onto his nose. “What is this?” 

“Our ticket into the Ministry,” she announced, shifting to sit closer to him. He became very aware that her hand was resting on the bed, too close for comfort to his hidden groin. 

“It’s the invitation to a Ball. Hosted by the Ministry.” Harry turned the parchment over in his hand. There was a Ministry seal pressed into the paper, as well as gold embossed lettering that read, ‘34th Annual Summer Ministry Ball’. 

“Precisely. A perfect cover for us to get inside and snoop around a little.” 

“How exactly did you get your hands on this?” Harry asked. The invite looked much too important to simply be handed out to people without connections. And neither of them had any connections here, did they? 

Ginny shrugged. 

“An acquaintance helped me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What acquaintance?” 

She looked annoyed that he was pressing her for answers. “I have lived in this country for thirteen years—I was bound to make some friends along the way.” 

“If you don’t want to tell me because this acquaintance is some criminal, you can simply say so. No need to be all snarky with me,” Harry drawled. It was quite shocking that even her prickly personality was not enough to affect his aroused physical state. Perhaps it was the early morning flush on her cheeks—making her a lot more tolerable to him. 

He stretched, rolling his shoulders. “It’s just that you left before I woke up.” 

Ginny’s gaze softened as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, you looked like you needed to sleep in. And well, I thought that I’d get some fresh air and also arrange a visit to the Ministry.” 

“Right,” he responded. And then, he decided to push his luck, teasing her. “I thought you might have wanted to avoid me after last night.” 

The result was instant—Ginny’s breath hitched in surprise. 

She tried to school her features. “Why would I need to avoid you?” 

Harry relaxed into the headboard, watching her. “Maybe you were embarrassed about how enthusiastically you kissed me last night.” 

Ginny’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t any more enthusiastic than you!” 

“I think I remember you climbing into my lap—.”

“You pulled me!” 

“That’s not how I remember it.” 

Ginny’s eyes flashed with anger, her coyness forgotten. “Pity. That’s how it happened though,” she declared with finality. 

Harry chuckled, pleased at how easily he could rile her up. 

“Can we talk about the Ball now?” Ginny asked, averting her gaze and slipping off the bed to pace around in the room. She was ready to kiss him then, but not ready to talk about it. Alright, he could wait. “Do you have a plan, or were you just hoping we’d waltz in and trip over classified documents?"

Harry snorted. 

“That would be awfully convenient, wouldn’t it?” he asked, shifting in the bed. “No, I was thinking that maybe if everyone important will be at the Ball, the offices would be empty. Which means one of us can sneak in and find something that points to who runs the trade.” 

“That’s the idea. But how would we get into the offices without being seen?” 

“Maybe you could cause a distraction, allowing me to sneak in under my cloak.” 

“Your cloak?” Ginny asked, looking thoroughly confused. 

“My Invisibility Cloak. You saw it that day, on the ship,” he reminded her. 

“Oh.” She almost gave him what he thought was a look of admiration. “Handy piece of artefact, that. I bet you broke plenty of rules under that thing.” 

“And here I thought that you think of me as a tiresome conformist.”  

“That was before I found out that you’re an illegal Animagus.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Not to mention, you performed a forbidden blood ritual to spy on me.” 

“Yes, well, you would never have opened up to me otherwise, so let’s just agree that it was all for the best.” 

Ginny couldn’t hold back her smile, even though Harry could tell that she’d tried. 

“So, the Ball is tomorrow.” She looked up from the invite. “Do you have something to wear?” 

“I wasn’t expecting to attend a formal event, so no,” he answered. “And you?” 

She shook her head. “No, me neither. I suppose we could go shop for some dress robes? There should be a wizarding shop on the Mall Road, I think.” 

“Let’s go after breakfast,” Harry agreed. A thought occurred to him. “We should get our stories straight. Who we are, why we are attending the Ball.” 

“I don’t think we need to complicate it. We’re Harry and Ginny Potter, here for our honeymoon, and we had a friend invite us to the Ball and thought we’d join in for a laugh.” Harry ignored the way his heart sped up at the sound of their names joined together like that.
“No one suspects a newly married couple who simply wants to dance.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You can dance, can’t you, Potter?” 

Harry scoffed. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent dancer.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“Fine. We go as honeymooners. That keeps people from asking too many questions.” He tapped the invitation. “Then you can stage a distraction and I’ll slip into the offices.” 

“You’ll have to be quick. It could be suspicious if you leave your charming bride alone in a gathering for too long,” Ginny said, cocking her eyebrow up, challenging him. 

“Wife, you may be the professional criminal, but I won’t have you underestimating my lawbreaking skills.” 

Harry and Ginny ended up walking down the Mall Road after breakfast. To enter the wizarding end of the street, they needed to walk through a small, wrought iron gate that led them down a deserted path off the side of the hill. Some way down the path, they came across a cemetery, with a few dilapidated gravestones scattered across the overgrown field. 

Ginny led him by hand, stopping in front of what looked like the oldest grave of the lot. The stone was weathered and cracked, the name long eroded by time. Without hesitation, she tapped her wand on the moss-covered stone three times.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low groan, the ground beneath them trembled slightly. The air above the gravestone began to ripple, like waves, forming an archway of glimmering light. 

Ginny turned to Harry with a smirk. “Shall we?”

He let her pull him through.

The moment they stepped past the archway, the world shifted around them. They found themselves on a lively, sloping street paved with smooth cobblestones. On either side, there seemed to be a whimsical mix of traditional Indian and British colonial architecture—a mix of wooden and brick buildings, some adorned with intricate latticework, while others featured simple, sloping roofs. 

Harry took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp mountain air that mixed with the scent of something warm and sugary. There was a buzz of activity around them—a mix of people, belonging to many different ethnicities, seemed to be bustling around in the market. A group of school-aged children almost collided into them when they tried to run past them. Harry put a protective arm around Ginny, steadying her, before one of the children called out, “Sorry, Miss!” and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Come, let’s walk,” Ginny offered. He pulled his arm away from her only to slip it naturally into her extended hand. 

They walked slowly, taking their time to explore the sights and sounds around them. 

“This is amazing,” Harry murmured, glancing around.

Ginny smiled. “Yeah, this used to be my favourite place during our vacations.” 

“Have you been to Simla before?” Harry asked, surprised. 

She had a fond expression on her face as she looked around. “Oh, yes. The summers can get so unbearable in Bombay sometimes. I think Bill brought us all here about four or five times while we were growing up. I also did an exchange year in the wizarding school up here. Do you see that hill over there?” She pointed at a peak jutting out from behind the slope of the hill they were on. “It’s on the other side of that hill. The Himalayan Institute of Sorcery Science, HISS for short. The fact that the logo is a giant cobra is a complete coincidence, I’m told.” 

Harry chuckled. 

“Wow, I find it hard to imagine a wizarding school that’s not Hogwarts.” 

“I have heard so much about Hogwarts, mostly from Bill, who completed his entire education there. Well, then he got a job here and we all moved. Poor Charlie, he missed Hogwarts very much when we moved. Percy had only attended for a year, so the transition was much easier for him.” Ginny pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Bill tells me that I would have loved Hogwarts. But I don’t regret where I grew up. I got to meet incredible people, both here and at my school in Bombay.” 

He gazed at her, feeling a burst of admiration for how well-adjusted Ginny was, despite being wrenched away from her own culture and home at a young, impressionable age. 

They walked in companionable silence, stopping at stalls that interested them. Harry’s eyes were drawn to a vendor selling enchanted paintings of famous landmarks across India. He dragged Ginny along and paused at one particularly exquisite painting of the Taj Mahal. The white mausoleum seemed to sparkle in the painting, as if there was a real beam of sunlight lighting up its marble minarets. Tiny figures of people seemed to move around in the painting. 

“Excellent choice, young sir,” the vendor remarked, his moustache twitching when he smiled. “This is an enchanted painting of the Taj Mahal, sir. The most famous building in India.” 

“Enchanted how?” Ginny asked, peering closer.

“It shows you the landmark in real-time, Miss. What you see here is exactly what’s happening at the mausoleum right now,” the man said, clearly proud of his work. “It’s a rare type of enchantment that only a few painters in the world know how to do. My family has been honing the craft for generations. I guarantee that you will not find another such painting in a hurry.” 

Harry was transfixed, watching the little shadows of the people moving about on the painting. He looked up when he heard his wife declare, “We’ll take it.” 

“That’ll be ten galleons, Miss.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. 

“Ten galleons?” he exclaimed. 

“It’s a one-of-a-kind painting, good sir.” 

Ginny began to rummage in the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small bag. Harry held his palm up. 

“What are you doing? I’ll take care of it.” 

Ginny gave him an unimpressed look, her fingers tightening around the bag of coins. "Harry, I’m perfectly capable of buying a painting."

“Yes, but what kind of husband would I be if I made my wife pay for things on our honeymoon?”

She raised an eyebrow. “The kind who respects his wife’s financial independence?” 

Before Harry could say anything more, Ginny had already placed ten galleons in the hands of the beaming vendor. He packed their painting in a layer of protective parchment and handed the package to them. 

"May it bring beauty and wonder to your home," the vendor told Harry.

Ginny allowed him barely a moment before she was tugging him in another direction. She brought him over to a shop with a polished rosewood sign that read ‘Mirza’s Finest Attire—Dress Robes & More’ in thick, golden letters. 

“We’ll find something here.” Ginny led him inside. 

Harry was pleased that he was at least able to pay for their dress robes, although not without several protests from Ginny. 

“I know you have loads of money saved up from pirating, but can you humour me and let me pay for our robes?” Harry whispered into her ear. 

She sucked in her breath in indignant horror. “It’s not money from pirating. It’s what I earned as a healer,” she pointed out, but relented anyway, letting him clear the payment for their robes. 

They spent another hour or so in the market, enjoying a few delicacies and exploring more interesting shops. 

“Ready to head back?” Ginny asked, after some time. 

“Yes,” said Harry, taking a fond look at the way their hands seemed to organically join together. Happier than he’d felt in a long time, he Apparated them back to their cottage.

Chapter Text

Harry adjusted the collar of his new robes, frowning at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The deep green fabric—lined with subtle gold embroidery—fit him well, but he felt out of place in such finery. He was more accustomed to practical Auror gear, not opulent silks and tailored formalwear. He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, sighing. No amount of combing would tame it.

He glanced at the clock above the fireplace and sighed—they were running slightly late and he had been hoping to reach a bit earlier at the Ministry, which would give him more time to explore. 

He paced restlessly on the hardwood floor for a few minutes, only pausing when he heard the clip-clop of the heeled sandals his wife had bought for the evening. Ginny descended the stairs just as he turned. When their eyes met, Harry was effectively gagged.

Ginny was breathtaking .

She moved with an effortless grace, the soft swish of her gown following her down the stairs. Midnight blue silk clung to her form, silver embroidery catching the candlelight like scattered constellations. The fitted bodice accentuated her waist before flaring out in delicate layers, the fusion of Indian embroidery over English cloth giving her an almost regal look. Her hair completed the look—cascading in loose waves over one shoulder, a few strands curling around her face.

Harry had known that she was beautiful from the first moment he’d laid his eyes on her, but this—this was utterly and completely unfair . 

How was he supposed to focus on some damned mission when she was planning on walking around looking like an ethereal goddess? 

Merlin, Potter, get a grip on yourself!

Ginny came to a stop at the base of the stairs, tilting her head at him. “You’re staring.”

Harry shut his slackened jaw. 

“You… er—” He cleared his throat, trying not to sound like the bumbling fool that he felt like on the inside. “You look really—really pretty.”

Pretty? That was the best he could manage? 

But, to his absolute shock, a soft blush spread across Ginny’s cheeks at his weak compliment. 

Harry could hardly believe it—his fiery wife was blushing because of him ? 

She gave him a soft smile and stepped forward, her hand reaching out to adjust his collar again. Her fingers lingered on his chest. “You look quite good as well. Even with the windswept hair.” 

She giggled softly when Harry scowled and reached up to once again try to straighten his hair. But then he felt her fingers, bringing his hand back to his side. 

“Leave them be. I like them like that. They are quite…you.” 

He could feel the warmth of her hand in his, the proximity and her words doing things to his heartbeat he didn’t particularly appreciate.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice slightly rough.

“Yeah.” Ginny linked her arm with his. “Let’s go, husband. We have a Ministry to infiltrate.” 

And if it hadn’t been for that reminder, Harry was sure that he had long forgotten the night’s real purpose. 

***

The Ministry building was a sizeable neo-gothic castle that sat atop a lush, secluded hill some way away from the main town. As Harry and Ginny approached the castle, they saw a vibrant web of floating lights that formed a stunning canopy above the building’s high walls. 

Taking a moment to admire the castle from the outside, Ginny renewed her grip on Harry’s arm as he led her inside. The wide ballroom was already bustling with elegantly dressed witches and wizards. The air was abuzz with a mix of laughter and conversation, as well as the tune of a lively waltz from the orchestra at the far end of the hall. 

They took a small turn about the room, often being greeted by friendly faces. A man even recognised Harry, having met him once doing security for an international Quidditch match. Ginny smiled politely through their exchange and mercifully, the man decided to move on, leaving them alone once again. 

“Ginny.” 

A smooth, familiar voice greeted them, and she felt Harry stiffen next to her. 

Dean Thomas stood before them, dressed in deep maroon robes with simple white embroidery. He was holding a glass of wine, his attention focused entirely on Ginny. She knew that he would have been here, of course, but she hadn’t been expecting him to look quite so happy to see her, especially given how they’d left things. 

Nonetheless, Ginnt returned his smile and tugged on Harry’s arm to lead him to greet their acquaintance. 

“Dean,” she said, trying to pour all her affection into her words—even if they hadn’t married, she would at least want to salvage whatever friendship was left between them. “You’ve met my husband, Harry.” 

Dean turned to Harry with a polite nod. “Potter.”

“Thomas,” Harry returned coolly.

Dean didn’t seem fazed by Harry’s curt tone, though it confused Ginny—her husband was always polite. He turned his attention back to Ginny. “I was hoping to find you before the night got away from us. It’s been too long.”

“It has,” Ginny agreed. “Thank you for arranging this invite for us.” 

“Anything for you, Ginny.” 

Once more, she felt Harry tense up next to her. 

“You know, Bertrand is here as well tonight,” Dean told her, gesturing somewhere towards the bar. 

“No! Is he?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I hope to not run into him again. I’m glad you warned me.” 

“Who’s Bertrand?” Harry enquired, his jaw set tightly with a forced smile.

Dean answered before Ginny could explain.

“He was our Transfiguration professor over at HISS.” He gazed at her while he spoke to Harry. Ginny shifted uncomfortably. “Ginny and I spent countless hours with him in detention. We were troublemakers, weren’t we?” 

She managed to nod. 

“Hmm, I would not have expected any differently from my wife ,” Harry said pointedly. The result was instant—Dean’s face hardened and he glared back at her husband, a very evident hatred burning in his eyes. 

Ginny wanted to diffuse the tension, so she clutched at her throat and laughed nervously. 

“I suppose I should get myself some refreshments. I am feeling quite parched.” 

“How about a dance first?” Dean asked, stretching his palm towards her. 

“Oh.” Ginny paused, unsure what to do. While on the one hand, she did not want to send Dean the wrong message, she also realised that this might be a great way for her to leave Harry on his own, perhaps allowing him the opportunity he needed to explore the offices. “I, er—.” 

“We were actually heading to the dance floor ourselves,” Harry spoke on her behalf, taking her hand firmly in his. 

“Oh, of course,” Dean responded. 

“We’re on our honeymoon, aren’t we?” he asked, turning to look directly at her with his emerald eyes. It wasn’t a question—it was a claim. He barely gave her time to react before leading her onto the dance floor, leaving Dean standing there.

Ginny followed without protest, a bit miffed that Harry would simply ignore the perfect excuse to get away from her for a bit of time. 

Harry slipped his hand around her waist and led her to the dance floor. The music changed to a slower, more intimate waltz. Without so much as a word, Harry pulled her closer. Ginny let her hand rest on Harry’s shoulder, her other held firmly in his as he guided them across the floor with surprising ease. She hadn’t expected him to be a good dancer. She certainly hadn’t expected him to claim her like that.

She stared up at him, arching a brow. “Was that really necessary?”

Harry didn’t meet her eyes. “What?”

“You know what,” she told him, narrowing her eyes. “Dean was simply being polite by asking me to dance.” 

Harry snorted uncharacteristically. 

“Right, he seemed quite polite .” 

Ginny sighed as they swayed to the delicate rhythm of the music. 

“Well, I thought that me dancing with him would have given you the perfect excuse to sneak into the offices. It’s not like I wanted to dance with him.” 

Harry’s jaw twitched, but he kept his eyes forward, guiding her expertly through a turn. “Well, I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” he finally muttered.

Ginny blinked, honestly taken aback. “That’s why you stepped in? Because of how he looked at me?”

Harry glanced down at her then, eyes sharp and unreadable. “I’m not blind, Ginny.”

She snorted, incredulous. “What, you think I’m going to run off with him in the middle of a Ministry Ball? You do realise you’re my husband now, don’t you?”

His expression didn’t change. “Not by choice.”

The reminder stung. 

“Tell me about him,” Harry asked, taking her by surprise. 

“What about him?” 

“Everything.” 

Something about his eyes let Ginny know that he was somehow quite invested in what she would say about Dean. 

“Well, we met that one year that I studied here. He was a classmate, an acquaintance. Nothing much more at the time,” she clarified because, for some reason, Harry seemed to suspect that there was more than friendship between her and Dean. 

“You seemed to be friendly enough to do a lot of rule-breaking together,” Harry said bitterly. 

Ginny felt the inexplicable need to defend herself. 

“We were both troublemakers, yes. But we weren’t breaking the rules together. I think it was more that we were breaking rules— separately —but ended up in detention together.” 

“Oh.” Harry’s face seemed to soften a bit. “Did you remain in touch after?” 

“Not really. I only met him again a few years ago at some Ministry event that Percy took me to in Bombay. Dean works for the Ministry and travels all over the country. We got reacquainted and well, he started writing to me, so I suppose we developed somewhat of a friendship.” 

“And then he proposed to you?” Harry enquired, avoiding her gaze. 

“Yes, he did.” 

“Did you want to marry him?” 

“I told you before, I had been considering saying yes, but—.” 

“No,” Harry interrupted. “Would you have preferred to marry him? If you had been given the choice?” 

Ginny blinked at the question, her feet missing a beat as they turned slowly in time with the music. Harry’s voice hadn’t been angry when he asked it. Just quiet, measured. She didn’t know why he needed the answer to such a question. Why did it matter? She was married to him now—nothing would change, nothing could change. 

“I wasn’t given a choice though.” 

“If you had been—would you have wanted Dean?” 

“Why does it matter?” she hissed. “I’m married to you now, aren’t I?” 

“I don’t know why, but it matters to me,” Harry said, stubbornly. “Wouldn’t you have wanted to know if I’d had any real feelings for those women that I—?” 

“Slept with?” she finished for him, annoyed that he would even draw that comparison. Ginny had barely had any relationship with Dean. On the other hand, her husband had slept around with multiple women. She couldn’t believe how hypocritical he was being demanding answers from her for a barely existent relationship when he’d gone philandering around town. 

His jaw twitched. 

“If that’s what you want to call it.” 

Neither of them said anything for a few beats, focusing overly on every step of their feet. Ginny stumbled once, but Harry steadied her, tightening his hold on her waist. 

“So, did you?” she asked after a few more breaths. 

“Did I what?” 

“Have feelings for any of these women?” 

“No, it was never about that,” Harry said with surprising ease. There was a tender honesty in his eyes when he met hers as if he was making sure that she believed him. 

Ginny let go of a breath that she wasn’t aware that she’d been holding. 

“And you?” Harry asked, his hand tightening in hers. “Did you have feelings for Dean? Do you still ?” 

Ginny looked away for a moment, watching the golden lights floating above the dance floor, then slowly brought her gaze back to him.

“No, I never did.” 

Harry seemed surprised by her answer, but pleasantly so. She saw his shoulders relax, as if he had been holding some tension in them, but it was now gone. 

“But you said you considered saying yes. Why?” 

Ginny gave him a long look, but she couldn’t decipher his expression. 

“Out of practicality, I suppose. I knew I had to marry someday—since the wizarding society can accept anything but an unmarried witch.” She rolled her eyes with contempt. “Dean is a kind man and well, he travels so much, I thought I’d be safely able to pursue my own, erm, hobbies.” 

Harry’s face split into a cheeky grin. 

“Very practical reasons, indeed.” His eyes searched the crowd and he stuck his chin out to gesture towards the direction in which Dean probably stood. “But it looked like Dean has less than practical reasons to pursue you.” 

Ginny shrugged. 

“I know he liked me, but he no longer has any reasons to pursue me. I’m a married woman, Harry.” 

“I know,” Harry said softly. “I just… don’t like the way he still looks at you like you’re his .”

Ginny blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice. Her lips parted slightly, realisation hitting her square in the face.

“You’re jealous.” 

Harry didn’t deny it but held her gaze. 

She laughed softly, not meaning to sound mocking, but surprised.

“Well, you don’t need to be.” Harry looked hardly reassured. “I’m very much yours . Legally, I might add.” 

That made him smile, although she could see that he tried to hide it. 

“Yes, and all the troubles that come with you.” 

They shared a laugh.

The music was beginning to slow, signalling the end of the dance. Ginny looked toward where Dean was standing with a drink in hand, watching them.

She turned back to Harry. “You’ll need to get to the Trade offices soon. This might be our only window.”

Harry didn’t move, his hand still resting on the small of her back. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you with him.”

“He’s not the one I'll be going back home with,” she assured him. 

Taking her by surprise, Harry brought her hand up to his lips and pressed them into her knuckles, lingering a second too long. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, then.” 

Harry stepped back from her and after giving her one last glance, disappeared into the crowd, careful not to draw attention. Ginny used the opportunity to surreptitiously drop a small detonator that she’d stolen from Fred and George’s room of experiments to create the perfect distraction. 

By the time the crowds returned to normal and the murmurs in the room died down, Harry was nowhere to be seen. 

***

Harry stepped through the gilded doors that led away from the Ministry ballroom and towards the office area. The hum of conversation and music was now muffled behind him and he pointed his wand at his dress shoes to wordlessly mute any noise they might make against the wooden flooring. The corridor that stretched in front of him was dimly lit—the enchanted lanterns flickering gently in their sconces on the walls. 

Harry needed to move quickly—if he was to return to the Gala before someone (like Dean) would begin to wonder about his extended absence. He passed a lonely security desk manned by a drowsy clerk who barely looked up from a one-sided game of Exploding Snap. The corridor curved slightly and opened up to a more opulent hallway—polished wooden floors, deep red carpeting, and golden placards denoting high-ranking offices.

Taking the stairs down to the bottom floor, Harry made his way over to the Department of Colonial Affairs. From what Harry could see, the entirety of the floor seemed to be dedicated to the department. As he stepped through to the heart of the floor, he saw doors leading to several different offices—the Bureau of Cultural Integration and the Registry of Native Magic stood on his left, and the Colonial Enforcement Unit and the Office of Colonial Trade were to his right. 

Harry pushed into the Office of Colonial Trade. There was a long corridor, with more doors leading into small cabins on either side. At the end of the hallway, he found two adjacent doors—one that was the ‘Trade Records’ room and another that had a brass plate with the title, ‘Head of Colonial Trade’. 

Harry paused, momentarily confused about which of the two rooms could provide him with the evidence he needed. Then deciding to try his luck with Trade Records, he swiftly unlocked the door with his wand and then stepped through the door. 

The room consisted mainly of rows upon rows of tall filing cabinets that were divided into vague categories. “ Lumos ,” Harry whispered, pointing his wand towards the labels and then checking cabinet after cabinet for any trade agreements or export documents he could find. 

After pouring through various parchments—all of which were either written in a confusing legal language or were magically redacted altogether—Harry groaned with mounting frustration. Some of the documents also seemed to have been enchanted with tracking spells, which would make it rather impossible for him to leave with them. 

“Nothing of use here,” he finally muttered to himself, slipping back out the door again. 

Once outside, he eyed the door to the office of the Head of Colonial Trade. Perhaps the identity of the person in charge of the trade agreements and policies in India might be enough information for them to start with. 

Harry stepped closer, trying the doorknob. Locked, of course. 

“ Alohomora .” 

But the lock did not budge. 

Harry thanked his past self for having had the foresight to pack the special knife Sirius had gifted him when he’d made an Auror—one that unlocked even the most secure doors. He fished it out of his cloak’s pocket and pushed the tip of the knife into the lock. With a low click, the lock gave way. 

Harry slipped in, only for his senses to be completely overtaken. 

The entire office seemed to be decorated in a single-coloured theme— pink !

The wallpaper, the chairs, even the lace-trimmed pillow on the chair—everything was several shades of pink. Ornate plates were mounted in neat rows on the walls, featuring meowing, prancing kittens. Delicate doilies were resting on various surfaces and there seemed to be different varieties of teacups that were being used as decoration. 

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust—the office looked like it belonged both to a twelve-year-old girl as well as a seventy-year-old grandma at the same time. 

Once he got over the initial assault of pink, he moved fast, scanning the desk. There wasn’t any sign of loose papers, so Harry sifted through the drawers to find a stack of official documents—letters of approval, sanctioned trade routes, records of recent import and export duties, all carrying the seal of the British Ministry of Magic and one signature. 

Dolores Jane Umbridge, Head of Colonial Trade.

At the end of the stack, he found a thick roll of parchment tucked into the side of the drawer. Harry slipped his finger underneath the wax seal to lift it from the parchment. Unrolling it, he read. 

OFFICE OF COLONIAL TRADE
DECREE NO. 118-B
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

REGULATION OF POTION AND WAND TRADE IN THE INDIAN MAGICAL TERRITORIES

In a continued effort to uplift the magical standards of the Indian wizarding population and to ensure the safety and efficacy of spellwork and healing practices, the Ministry of Magic hereby enacts the following regulation:

All potion-brewing and wand-making enterprises operated by native magical communities within the Indian territories are to be suspended indefinitely.

Henceforth:

• All finished potions distributed or sold within the territories must be imported from certified British apothecaries.
  
  
• All wands available for use or purchase must be crafted and certified by licensed wandmakers registered with the British Ministry of Magic.

This measure has been taken in the interest of public safety, following comprehensive evaluations which determined that locally crafted magical goods frequently fail to meet acceptable Ministry standards. These products have been found to lack consistency, contain unstable magical cores, or be brewed with imprecise techniques, which endanger the lives of the local as well as foreign magical communities.

The Ministry believes that access to higher-quality magical tools and remedies will foster stronger magical discipline, improve spell accuracy, and elevate the global standing of Indian wizarding communities.

Non-compliance with this decree will result in fines and potential wand revocation.

Issued by:
Dolores Jane Umbridge
Head of Colonial Trade, British Ministry of Magic
In accordance with the Magical Colonial Act, 1883

“What the bloody hell,” Harry whispered, his jaw clenched in anger. 

This was proof—concrete, irrefutable proof that the British Ministry was intent on oppressing and controlling the local wizarding community. 

How was any of this not reaching back home? 

Or, as Ginny had said, it was reaching back home, but no one cared enough to do anything about it. 

“...can’t believe we are expected to mingle with them.” 

Harry froze. The sound of fancy dress shoes clicking against the flooring outside made him instinctively duck behind Umbridge’s desk. 

“This new administration has gone too soft, that much is clear. Barnaby thinks it’s Kingsley posing as the Minister back home. If you ask me, he only got the position through sheer, dumb luck. Fudge would never have allowed Indians to be invited to a Ministry ball like equals.” 

“Well, at least they restricted the guest list to Purebloods. I don’t know if I could stand breathing the same air as some curry-loving Mudbloods.” 

There was some laughter. 

“They’re bestial.” 

“I am looking forward to when Madam Umbridge takes over the entire Department. We’ll finally have proper order. No more of this forced mingling.”

“I’ll toast to that. The less we have to deal with their kind, the better.”

Harry’s heart pounded. The bile rose in his throat. Every word confirmed his worst suspicions—Kingsley was kept in the dark about how the colonial Ministry was treating the Indian wizarding community. So if he could perhaps gather enough proof to show it to Kingsley, he might be able to help put a stop to this oppressive administration. 

He waited until their voices drifted off down the corridor, then slowly stood and exhaled.

Carefully, he gathered a handful of the official letters, along with the official decree, stuffing them into an enchanted pouch under his robe.

He took one last glance around the room—at the sickly pink walls, the kittens blinking down at him and then slipped out of the office. 

He needed to find Ginny.

***

“Shall we go outside for a stroll?” Dean asked Ginny after their dance was finished. “I’ve heard that the castle has some wonderful gardens.” 

“Er…” Ginny paused, looking around to see if Harry had returned yet. “I thought I’d wait for Harry…” 

“I’m sure he’s just mingling around somewhere. We’ll be back in no time,” Dean assured her. 

Biting her lip at the uncertainty, Ginny hesitantly let herself be led away from the ball. The two of them exited the side entrance into the gardens, which were remarkably beautiful, like Dean had said, but also, much more secluded than she had imagined in her head. 

Propriety dictated that she should not be in such a place as this with anyone but her husband. But now that they were here, Ginny could think of no excuse to head back to the party. So she stayed. 

The air in the garden was cool and fragrant with jasmine and night-blooming roses. Ginny clasped her hands in front of her, walking slowly beside Dean along the gravel path that wound beneath flowering archways and enchanted floating lights. 

They walked in relative silence until Dean finally spoke in a quiet but strained voice. 

“Don’t you think I deserve a proper explanation?” 

Ginny glanced at him, startled. “Dean…”

He stopped walking and turned toward her.

“We were friendly for months, Ginny, months . I had begun planning our wedding. And then, one day, with one short letter, you broke it all off. Not even an actual explanation of why you would do that to me. And then I find out that you’re marrying someone else!” 

Guilt coiled in her stomach. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I had no choice. It was… complicated.”

“You always have a choice,” he said, voice tightening. “Do you love him? Is that why you married him?”

Ginny averted her gaze, turning away from him. “Dean, I’d rather not speak about this, please. It’s all done now.” 

“So you don’t love him. Then why not marry me , Ginny? I loved you. I love you even now .” 

She took a small step back. “Dean…”

But he stepped closer anyway, his hand brushing against her arm, lingering for longer than was appropriate. “Was any of it real? Did you ever mean to marry me?”

His voice seemed to have lost any warmth and in this gloomy corner of the gardens, Ginny was beginning to lose her nerve. 

Heart pounding, Ginny insisted, “Dean, I think we should go back inside.”

He stepped closer again, his voice now edged with frustration. “Just tell me, Ginny. You owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything ,” she said firmly, having lost her patience. 

Dean caught her wrist, preventing her from leaving.

Before she could pull out her wand to hex Dean, a voice cut through the garden like a blade.

“Let go of her.”

Ginny turned—there was Harry, standing a few feet away, eyes blazing with fury that was clearly aimed at Dean. 

“I said—let her go.”

Dean’s grip slackened instantly, his expression flickering with guilt.

“She’s fine,” he said quickly. “We were just talking.”

Harry stepped forward, not even bothering to hide his anger as he grabbed Dean’s hand and shoved it away from Ginny’s wrist. “It didn’t look like ‘just talking.’”

Suddenly, hexing Dean was no longer a priority for Ginny—stopping Harry from cursing Dean was the more urgent demand of the moment. 

She stepped between them, facing Harry and imploring, “Harry—let’s just go.”

Harry glared at Dean, his brows furrowed deeply behind his glasses. Ginny touched his arm, making him finally look at her—his expression softened instantly. 

“Let’s go,” she insisted. 

Dean watched their exchange with bitterness. 

“You should ask her why she married you, Potter,” Dean told Harry. “Because Ginny isn’t capable of love.” 

And then he walked away. 

Neither Harry nor Ginny moved until Dean’s figure disappeared through the door back into the castle. 

Ginny sighed deeply, meeting Harry’s gaze, which was fixed upon her. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she told him, her voice soft, but still clearly audible over the cacophony of frogs and crickets. 

Harry said nothing, gently taking her hand in hers and then turning her wrist around to inspect it. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No,” she said quickly. “Just—made me uncomfortable. He was upset.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Harry was swift to point out, his jaw set with anger.

“No, it’s not.” 

Harry offered his arm to her. 

“Let’s go.” 

And then Ginny felt the familiar squeeze of Apparition. 

Back at the cottage, Harry was still quiet. He paced by the fireplace, still visibly wound up. Ginny leaned against the reading chair, slipping off her sandals one by one, relishing the feel of putting her feet flat against the floor after half a night in heels. 

“I didn’t expect him to take me out to the gardens.” She felt the need to explain. “I should’ve been more firm.”

Harry turned to look at her—his eyes flashing with some emotion that Ginny couldn’t quite read. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I just—.” He didn’t finish. 

“He was just angry,” she said gently, “and confused. I broke his heart.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to put a hand on you, Ginny.” After the length of a breath, he proclaimed, “I should have punched the smug look off his face.” 

Ginny chuckled. “I was about to hex him when you turned up.” 

Harry joined in her laughter, the tension in his posture disappearing almost instantly. 

“I should have known that you don’t need me to protect you.” 

There was a moment of silence in which they shared a tender, meaningful look. Something passed wordlessly between them and anything that lay outside this cosy cottage that they shared might as well not have existed. 

Emboldened by some hidden strength, Ginny strode towards her husband, sliding her hands up the front of his robes until they rested at his collar. Harry reacted quickly—his hands coming up to her waist instinctively, pulling her close. He did nothing else, watching her with a mix of amusement and wonder as she found the clasp of his robes and unfastened it slowly and deliberately. 

She wanted there to be no doubt about what she was asking. 

“You don’t want to see what I found at the Ministry offices?” Harry asked her, his voice low and rough. 

“Yes,” she said. “Later.” 

Standing up on her toes, Ginny kissed him. 

And it was just as good as the other times they’d kissed. By now, she was familiar with his kisses—the way his lips moved against hers, the way his teeth nibbled on her lower lip, and the way his hands explored the curves of her body, wantonly. 

Amidst the rising heat of their kiss, Ginny felt Harry’s fingers pull at the ribbons that held her gown together. In an attempt to show him her approval, she pressed herself closer to him and tugged at his messy hair—she couldn’t get enough of them, of him . Her breath hitched when Harry slid away from her mouth to dip his tongue into her collarbones, all the while his hands patiently undid knot after knot of her midnight blue gown. 

As the top of her dress loosened around her shoulders, Harry pulled back to observe his handiwork. Ginny felt a blush rising up her cheeks, feeling the heat and desire from her husband’s gaze almost lighting her skin on fire. 

“I’ve been wanting to take this dress off of you from the moment I saw you in it,” Harry whispered huskily, pulling at the neckline of her dress even further, exposing the delicate fabric of her chemise to his eyes. Ginny stepped back to give him the space to pull the dress until it pooled around her feet.

The cottage air was warm against her skin, the faint crackle of the fireplace mingling with the sound of their breathing. Ginny’s pulse quickened with renewed confidence and she undid the buttons of her petticoat. Harry’s eyes darkened even further as he watched her slowly lower the garment and kick it away for good measure. 

Ginny shivered in anticipation, her breath quickening as Harry held her gaze, shedding his robes and then his shirt in quick succession. He stood in front of her, now clad only in his trousers—his broad chest and shoulders gleamed in the firelight, making her want to drag her fingers across every faint scar that was painted across his sculpted skin. 

Almost at the same time, they both stepped closer to each other until they could just about touch. 

“Why do you have so many scars?” Ginny asked, gently caressing a thin line of disfigured skin that ran along his chest. 

“Occupational hazard, I suppose,” Harry grinned, watching her intently. He brushed his hand against her own, pressing her fingers deeper into his scar. “This one I got while fighting a rogue werewolf.” 

Ginny sucked in a breath. 

“Wouldn’t that—?” 

“No, you only turn if you get bitten. I promise I won’t turn into a werewolf.” 

Harry’s other hand absently came up to gently cup her face. Then he led her hand to another scar. 

“This was left by a particularly nasty spell that came my way when we were busting a smuggling ring.” 

Unknowingly, they had both leaned closer to each other, their breaths mingling. Harry led her to yet another patch of skin that was just newly healing. A faded, yellowish bruise was visible on the side of his ribs. 

“And this one—my personal favourite one—was from a notorious pirate.” 

Ginny flushed again—this time, for very different reasons. 

“Oh,” she said, remembering how she’d kicked him hard in his side, that too, multiple times. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hmm, I can think of a way you can make it up to me,” Harry whispered, nuzzling into her neck, slowly letting his hands trace down her curves. Through the sheer fabric of her chemise, every squeeze of his fingers was magnified tenfold. 

She didn’t know which one of them moved first, but they were kissing again. Now with lesser clothing between them, their kiss heated up quickly—tongues entwined, hands seeking. Harry slid down her neck, sucking at her pulse point, making her skin erupt into goose pimples. 

Meanwhile, she let her own hands explore, gently dragging her fingernails down his bare back, almost clinging to Harry in a desperate and shameless attempt to be even closer to him. 

“Gin,” Harry almost groaned against her neck, kneading her breasts through her chemise. Hearing him call her that while he touched her in such sinful, tantalising ways made Ginny feel dizzy with want. 

Perhaps he understood her desires even better than she did, because the next thing she knew, Harry had brought his arm around her and scooped her up in one swift motion. If she’d been her younger self, she might have giggled at the realised fantasy of being swept off her feet by a handsome knight. 

“Here, or the bedroom?” Harry asked her, his glasses comically askew on his nose. 

Ginny reached out to gently correct them. “Here?” She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t really know what I want,” she admitted finally. In a way, Ginny felt entirely out of her comfort zone—her complete lack of experience made her feel inadequate for what was perhaps the first time in her life. 

Harry dropped a sweet kiss on her nose. 

“That’s okay,” he told her. She was sometimes startled by just how warm and incredibly kind Harry’s eyes were. “We’ll take it slow.” 

And then, while still keeping her secure in his arms, he performed a Cushioning Charm on the rug and lowered her right onto it. She could hardly tell the difference between the floor and the bed, given how aroused she was, but she appreciated that Harry cared more about her back than she did. 

Harry settled himself next to her, half his body hovering over hers, but his lower half—deliberately—seemed to be a safe distance away. He was determined to take it slow for her. Despite the thick fog of desire, Ginny appreciated the thought—since she wasn’t sure if she was entirely ready to have sex yet. 

“Tell me, okay?” Harry told her.

“Tell you what?” Ginny asked, nervous. 

“Anything, everything. Tell me what you like, what you don’t like, what you want me to do, when you want to stop.” Harry kissed her then, deep and slow. “Tell me everything that comes to mind.” 

“Alright,” Ginny agreed. 

They kissed some more, starting with what was familiar, but it wasn’t long before they veered into the unknown. Harry’s finger coiled around the strings that held the neckline of her chemise together. He glanced up at her with his lidded eyes, wordlessly seeking permission. Eager to feel his touch, Ginny nodded. 

Loosening the strings to her chemise, Harry peeled it away from her skin and down her shoulders, exposing more of her to his heated stare. When the fabric finally slipped away from her breasts, Ginny fought the urge to cover herself. This was what she wanted—she wanted him to touch her, to look at her the way he sometimes did, as if he craved for her. She wasn’t going to let nerves get in the way of that. 

There was a faint flush rising on Harry’s cheeks as he studied her in the light of the hearth. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

The denial got stuck in Ginny’s throat—how could she not believe him when he was looking at her with such reverence? She’d never felt so seen , so very wanted , in her life before. 

So when Harry bent down to capture her peaked nipple in his mouth and sucked on it softly, Ginny had no choice but to moan at the sensation of it all. Encouraged by her approval, he brought his hand up to cup her other breast, kneading the delicate skin and grazing her nipple with his thumb. It was an education of the senses for Ginny—how it felt to have him flick his moist tongue against her breasts, how it looked to have his unruly hair leaning over her chest, how she’d begun to smell like his faint cologne, and how it sounded when he pulled back, letting go of her nipple with a scandalous pop. 

Oh, what a ruinous education to get. But Ginny was entirely on board. 

Remembering what he’d asked of her, she told him, “I liked that.” 

He looked pleased with himself, his eyes creasing with a wide grin. “You did?” 

Would she be a complete tart if she asked him for more? But then, he’d made it clear that he wanted her to talk. And Ginny was never one to hold back from what she wanted anyway. So she simply nodded and asked, “Could we do more?” 

Harry grinned again, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. 

“Oh, Gin, I want to do so much more to you,” he told her wickedly. 

Her heart began to thud faster than ever. “I, erm, don’t think I’m ready yet— for— for that . For everything .” 

“Of course, I knew that. We’re not having sex tonight, Gin.” The way he said it—so casual, so confident—made her stomach uncoil in gratitude. She had somehow come to trust this man, completely and irrevocably. “But there is so much more to be done before we even get there.” 

Her eyes widened. “There is?” 

Ginny was no fool—she’d had her fair share of sex education listening in to conversations with her sisters-in-law or friends who’d gotten married quite early. There were more ways to seek pleasure than just the one. But she also knew that most men were interested in only that one. A man could hardly be bothered to touch a woman and bring her pleasure, not when he could simply seek his own relief and move on. 

But it seems that Harry was not that kind of man. 

Taking her by surprise, he asked, “Do you touch yourself?” 

Ginny spluttered, alarmed to be asked such an intimate question. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asked again. Apart from his ears that were burning red, there was no other sign of embarrassment. “You know, to bring yourself relief.” 

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh in mortification. 

“Harry, you can’t ask a well-bred lady that question.” 

“I didn’t think you counted yourself as a well-bred lady, Gin.” 

There was that cheeky smile again. Merlin, he drove her insane—in both good and bad ways. 

Ginny pouted. “Well, I’m not going to tell you what I do or do not do in the privacy of my own room.” 

Harry chuckled, bringing her closer to kiss her. 

“Alright, if you did, I would have told you that I could touch you the same way.” 

She gulped, feeling the blood drain from her face at the open proposition. The ache that had been slowly building in her belly seemed to egg her on and her thighs clenched together of their own accord, begging her to let him touch her. 

“Touch me how?” she demanded, not wanting to admit just how much she craved him. 

“Do you want to find out?” Harry asked. His smug, victorious smile seemed to have vanished, now replaced by this blazing intensity, one that threatened to scorch Ginny along in its flames. “Tell me, Gin.” 

His hands travelled down under her chemise, pulling on her drawers with intent. She fought the urge to push brazenly into his hand. Instead, she whispered, “Touch me, Harry.” 

He needed no further encouragement, undoing her drawers in a matter of seconds, pulling them along her legs and flinging them away. Harry slid down her body, crouching over her legs, which had fallen together in a feeble attempt to protect the last of her modesty. 

Starting at her ankles, Harry made his way up her legs, grazing his fingers along the curve of her calves and dropping kisses along the inside of her knees. With one hand, he gently parted her thighs, and with the other, he lifted the hem of her chemise until it was pushed high enough to expose her completely. 

Harry’s eyes flickered with need and for a moment, his jaw strained, as if he was struggling to hold himself back from taking things too far. He was quick to regain control. 

Reaching out slowly, he swiped one finger against her core. 

Ginny’s sharp intake of breath gave him pause, but when their eyes met, he continued his exploration. Gently parting her folds, he spread the moisture from her slick walls, making her whine and roll her hips to meet his fingers, attempting to draw them deeper. 

“I’ll ask you again, Gin—do you touch yourself?” 

She might have suspected that all this did not affect Harry in the slightest, if it had not been for his hoarse voice. 

“Harry…” 

“Tell me,” he commanded. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, I— I touch myself.” 

“Here?” 

“Yes.” 

“Here?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“How about here?” 

“Harry, please… ”

She finally felt him where she wanted. After that, whatever came out of her mouth must have been garbled nonsense, because she was rendered incapable of having any coherent thoughts. 

Harry continued his assault on her senses, pumping two fingers in and out of her, while using his thumb to swipe at her bundle of nerves. Her hips rolled to meet his movements, finding a rhythm that worked for her. Within a few minutes, she was climbing, climbing… higher and higher…

Ginny’s hand shot out to grasp Harry’s as she cried her release, her mouth frozen in a scream, her head thrown back in ecstasy. As she rode out the last of the tremors in her body, Harry gently pulled his fingers away, leaving her feeling satiated and empty at the same time. She couldn’t find it in herself to open her eyes, but she felt him lie back down next to her, cradling her in his arms once more. 

“Harry…” she whispered, unable to muster any more energy than that. 

“Hmm?” 

“I really liked that.” 

He brushed her hair back from her face. 

“I’m glad.” 

“What did you find at the Ministry?” She tried to pry her drooping eyes open, failing miserably. 

“Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” She didn’t know how it was possible, but Harry drew a quilt over them, covering them in a warm cocoon, made that much warmer by his presence. She huddled closer to his chest and sighed in contentment. “Sleep now.” 

That night, Ginny drifted off to sleep in the same condition—her hair loose, barely dressed, tucked close to her husband. The last thought in her head was of hope, a small glimmer that had taken shape in her heart that all would be right, at least as long as she had Harry by her side.

Chapter Text

Harry stirred, squinting against the bright sunlight filtering through the windows. The fire had reduced to embers, making the room feel much colder than it had been the night before. Somewhere outside, a bird was singing. Inside, everything was still.

Half-asleep, Harry realised that his arm was draped across Ginny’s waist, her back curled into his chest, and their legs tangled together. He could hear her soft breathing, deep and content. He pressed closer, his breath tickling the soft, wispy hair at the base of her neck. 

He wasn’t sure exactly how long he lay there, gazing at her—he studied the freckles peppered across her shoulders and the few strands of gold that shone when her hair was exposed to the sun. 

When she twitched in his arms, he held his breath, afraid to break the stillness of the moment. Ginny shifted, whimpering slightly, as she turned around, burying herself deeper into his chest. Harry exhaled when he was convinced that she was still asleep and then pulled back to examine her further. 

She must have felt his gaze on her, though, because she woke up only a few minutes later. Her lashes fluttered, and Harry felt her lazily stretch her limbs. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Ginny looked up at him and grinned, her nose wrinkling. 

“Hello,” she said. 

“Morning,” he whispered, dropping a quick kiss against her lips. 

“Hmm,” Ginny hummed against his lips. “Morning.” 

“How did you sleep?” 

“Like a log.” She let Harry pull her closer as he lay back, resting her chin against his chest. “You?” 

“Probably the best sleep I’ve had in a while.” 

“I could tell,” Ginny chuckled. “I might as well have slept with a Hippogriff— that’s how loud you were snoring.” 

Harry feigned offence. “That’s slander.” 

The two of them shared a laugh until their eyes met. Harry reached out to brush a strand of red hair from her face. He hadn’t expected to like the woman he was being forced to marry. But he could now admit that he wasn’t simply physically attracted to Ginny, but that he also admired and respected who she was as a person. 

He was also rapidly falling for her the more time they spent together. But that was a matter he wasn’t ready to fully think about. 

Ginny bit her lip, looking unsure, and said, “I suppose we should talk about last night.” 

Harry snapped out of his thoughts. “Right, of course. I think it’s best if you see it first.” 

“See it?” Ginny’s eyes widened. “Right now?” 

“Well, yes. Why bother waiting?” 

She seemed to have gone pale in the face, which confused Harry. “Last night, you said that we could go slow. I won’t deny that I am curious about seeing it, but I didn’t think we’d be jumping right to it.” 

“What?” Harry asked, bewildered. “What are you talking about, Gin?” 

“Oh. You’re talking about something else.” Her face crimson, she evaded his question and asked, “What did you want to show me?” 

“The decree and some other records I found at the Ministry,” Harry said, a curious grin slowly creeping up his face. “What did you want me to show you?” 

“Nothing,” Ginny squeaked and backed away from him, sitting up urgently. The quilt slid off her shoulders and exposed her naked chest, so she gasped and pulled it back to cover herself in a panic. 

Harry chuckled, sitting up as well, resting his elbow on his knee and turning to observe his half-naked wife with amusement. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen, you know?” 

Ginny kept her hold on the quilt pressed against her front. “I know that your promiscuous history probably makes you comfortable with your nakedness,” she said, eyeing his exposed torso, “but I am still quite new to all of this.” 

“ Promiscuous ?”

“How many women have you been with exactly?” 

Harry swore under his breath. “You won’t let me live it down, will you?” He shifted closer to her, brushing his lips against her shoulder. “Three women. I think that’s well within the limits of what is considered quite conventional, definitely not promiscuous.” 

Ginny scowled. 

“Merlin forbid, if a woman were to do the same, she would be branded the town harlot, wouldn’t she? The hypocrisy amazes me.” 

“Well, I cannot do much about the hypocrisy of the wizarding community, but I can assure you that if you have slept with someone before, I will not let it bother me. Nor will I treat you any differently because of it.” 

Ginny pressed her lips together, as if she were making up her mind about him. Then she took him by surprise by kissing him square on his mouth. 

“Thank you. That’s really quite decent of you.” The quilt still clutched to her front with one hand, she shrugged at him. “I haven’t been intimate with anyone before, though. Not because I care about the arbitrary rules set by society, but I suppose I never found someone that I was attracted to in that way.” 

“Hmm, sounds like you are attracted to me, then,” Harry teased. 

“I’ll deny it in public, Potter,” Ginny retorted haughtily. 

“I’m alright with that,” he said, reaching for her fingers and gently prying them from the fabric she was holding to protect her modesty. “As long as I get to enjoy the privileges of this attraction privately.”

Ginny’s breath wavered as her hold on the quilt slackened. “What privileges?” 

“The privilege of kissing you,” he said, sliding his tongue against the swell of her breast, stopping to suck on her birthmark. “The privilege of getting to see you like this,” he continued, tugging the covers away from her grasp. 

“Harry…” Ginny warned without any conviction in her voice. 

When his mouth closed around her nipple, her hand flew to clutch at his hair. He pulled back momentarily, meeting her heady gaze, and asked a question whose answer he’d already guessed at. “Now, what was it that you wanted me to show you?” 

They tumbled back into the rug, delaying breakfast as well as any Ministry discussions for a little while longer. 

***

Ginny screamed out a string of expletives, clenching the decree in her hand, bubbling with righteous anger. 

“This is such colonial hogwash!” she exclaimed. Harry gripped her hand tenderly, squeezing to show his solidarity in that moment. “... taken in the interest of public safety, following comprehensive evaluations which determined that locally crafted magical goods frequently fail to meet acceptable Ministry standards …” she read out from the document. “This is completely false. There’s a whole community of Indian wizards and witches that have been brewing potions and crafting wands for centuries!” 

She stumbled out of her chair, pacing furiously across the room. 

“... access to higher-quality magical tools and remedies will foster stronger magical discipline, improve spell accuracy, and elevate the global standing of Indian wizarding communities …” She continued reading aloud, scoffing loudly at the end.

“Gin…” Harry called out soothingly. 

“This is a complete farce , Harry. The Ministry does not care about improving spell accuracy or elevating the global standing of Indians. You realise why they’re doing this, right?” Harry nodded feebly. “They’re going to buy raw materials at subsidised prices from the local community and then sell their own finished products back to them for much higher prices!” Ginny slammed the decree on the table, fuming. “This is theft, plain and simple. They want to bleed this community dry.” 

“Ginny, I agree with everything you’ve said.” Harry took her hand once more, brushing his thumb against her knuckles to calm her down. “But it’s no use losing your temper. Let’s sit down and discuss how we can respond to the Ministry.” 

Ginny heaved a great sigh, letting herself fall into her chair. Her body was still trembling with anger, but Harry’s hand in hers felt reassuring, like a great, big anchor thrown into a turbulent sea. “They’re doing this to cripple the local economy, to monopolise the market for potions and wands. It won’t be long before they come after other businesses.” 

“They’ll claim it’s about safety, regulations, efficiency.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. “And anyone who is not directly affected by this will be convinced that this is for the greater good.” 

Ginny met his gaze. “You know what happens next, don’t you? They'll criminalise independent brewing and wandmaking. Anyone who resists will be labelled a smuggler. And then they’ll be thrown into prison, or worse,” she said, her lip trembling at the memory of her teacher being murdered. 

“The way those two wizards talked about this Umbridge woman, I think we should be ready for worse,” Harry remarked quietly. “She has the Colonial Enforcement Unit at her disposal.” 

“Do you—do you think it could have been her?” Ginny asked, hesitantly. “Do you think she was the one who ordered the CEU to kill Mr Murthy and his apprentices?” 

Before she’d even finished her sentence, Harry was already shaking his head, having perhaps read her thoughts plainly on her face. 

“You cannot think like this, Ginny. You told me that your fight was about protecting the rights of the people, not about revenge.” He brushed his hair back as he often did when he was either frustrated or deep in thought. “If you go down a path of revenge, I’m not sure if that will end well.” 

Ginny shook her head stubbornly. 

“Harry, if you’re right about what this woman is like, then she’s killed dozens, maybe even hundreds of innocent people. How can you sit there and advocate for her to get away with it all?” 

“Ginny, I’m not advocating for Umbridge to get away with anything. I simply don’t want you to seek revenge. She must be stopped, but I don’t want you to taint your soul along the way. Killing someone…it rips your soul apart, Gin,” Harry said softly, almost pleading with her to understand. “It makes you a lesser version of yourself. And the more you kill, the more you lose yourself. Until there’s nothing left.” 

Ginny said nothing, but her anger and frustration were stuck like a lump in her throat. How was it possible for her small band of pirates to fight against an entire administration while also abiding by moral standards that did not seem to apply to the enemy? How long before she lost her crew the same way she’d lost Mr Murthy? 

“Ginny, we can do this without violence, I’m sure of it,” Harry insisted, bringing her back from the dark turn her thoughts had taken. 

“You’re right. We can do this without stooping to their level,” Ginny finally agreed after a few moments. Harry’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief. “What do you propose we could do?” 

Harry leaned forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out another sheet of parchment. “I also found this in Umbridge’s hideous office.” He held up the parchment for her. She took it, unfurling it carefully and letting her eyes roam over the words. 

“It’s a list of known wandmakers and apothecaries that they are planning on shutting down. According to the timeline on the document, they will be seizing all the finished as well as raw products from these businesses in about two weeks from now. I’m guessing that that’s how long they need to usher in their own products from England.” 

Ginny jumped to her feet to pace again, but this time with excitement at the new plan forming in her mind. 

“And what do you think they will do with all those seized raw products?” she probed Harry. 

He paused to think for a moment and then smiled. “Dump them into trade ships and send them back to England?” 

“Exactly!” 

Harry joined her, abandoning his chair and moving his hands animatedly while he talked. “And when they send those ships out, the Red Fury can be there to steal it all back.” 

Ginny felt a rush of adrenaline simply from watching the mischievous gleam in her husband’s eyes. They’d truly gone from hating each other to somehow plotting a heist together. 

“That should give them a taste of their own potion. They should know what it feels like to be robbed blind in broad daylight.” 

“We’ll need a proper plan, though,” Harry warned. “I know that there would be some security measures that might be in place to anticipate such a move. And Ron will be on high alert as well when he gets this news.” 

Ginny paused, nervously tapping her fingers against the dining table. “And you think Ron doesn’t suspect me at all?” 

“Even after I shared your physical description, he didn’t flinch at all. I don’t think the thought that his own sister could be the pirate he’s hunting has even crossed his mind,” Harry said with conviction. “Although it did make me wonder whether he was covering your tracks. I mean, knowing the Lead Auror on the case would be such an advantage for you, wouldn’t it?” 

“He doesn’t know,” Ginny interjected. 

Harry smirked. “Yes, I figured that later—you were so nervous that I would tell Ron, it was kind of obvious.” 

Ginny absently played with the frayed thread on the edge of her cotton sleeve. 

“Yes, well, I thought it would be best to keep my family away from all this. I don’t wish to cause my mother any more anguish than she’s had to live with in her life.” 

Harry tilted his head to observe her for a moment, his eyes softening with empathy, before he turned away, looking back down at the parchments strewn across the table. 

Ginny cleared her throat, bringing them back to the conversation at hand. “We’ll need intel on the shipping routes. If we know when and where the goods are being transported, we can plan the interception.” 

“I might be able to help with that,” Harry said, pressing his hands against the table to lean over it. He’d rolled his sleeves back, and Ginny couldn’t help but almost squeeze her thighs needily when confronted by the view of his lean but strong forearms. Without meaning to, she thought of where his hands had been the night before— and that morning —and flushed, hoping that Harry wouldn’t notice. 

“Ron’s been working with the Coastal Security. I can probably find out what docks the Ministry is using without raising suspicion.” He pushed off the table, straightened up and then met her eyes. His eyebrows shot up in concern. “Are you feeling alright? You seem quite flushed all of a sudden.” He took her hands and led her back towards her chair. “Here, sit. You haven’t eaten much. Why don’t you try eating some breakfast?” 

Ginny wasn’t hungry—not for food, anyway—but she stuffed some boiled eggs into her mouth, if only to keep from Harry the real reason behind the sudden rush of blood in her face. 

He slumped into his own chair, taking a few bites of his breakfast. Then he chuckled softly. “You know, I could never have imagined my honeymoon to involve talks of rebellion through grand planned heists.” 

Ginny wanted to point out that they had, in fact, done at least some activities that qualified as a traditional honeymoon experience, but a sudden burst of shyness made her bite back her remark. Instead, she went with the safest response. “What did you imagine?” 

“I don’t know… awkward dinners, uncomfortable silences… maybe a walk or two.”

“I don’t think anyone can have a more thrilling honeymoon than ours—breaking into Ministry events, stealing public policy documents, planning a massive heist,” she listed off. “You know, for someone who used to be such a rigid Ministry Auror, you are surprisingly good at plotting acts of piracy.” 

“Turns out, all I needed was the right bad influence.” The table between them was small enough that Harry could easily lean across, cup her chin in his hand, and then close his mouth on hers. 

When he sat back, she beamed at him and said, “Then, let’s do it. Make sure that the Ministry doesn’t get away with this. Together.” 

“Together.” 

***

The last couple of days they spent in Simla easily became part of Harry’s happiest memories. There, at the edge of a lonely cedar forest, it was easy to forget that there was a whole world out there—it might as well have ceased to exist. 

Inside their cottage, it seemed like time had slowed. 

On their last morning, Ginny proposed they take a walk, or rather, a hike in the hills. She’d spotted a secluded trail in the woods behind their cottage—a stony path that led up into the hillside. There was no signage, no safety measures, just a crooked path with a steep drop on one side.

“Would you relax?” Ginny called out from the bathroom as she changed into more ‘hike-appropriate clothing’, whatever that meant. Harry was outside, waiting for her. “The way you’re behaving, someone might think you’re a Muggle.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that wizards were not allowed to have phobias,” Harry drawled, his eyes fixed on that little crack in the door, behind which his wife was undressing. Since they’d become a bit more physically familiar, much to his delight, Ginny was becoming less shy around him.

“Harry, you can fly a broom hundreds of feet up in the air.” He could almost hear her rolling her eyes at him. 

“That’s different. I have a phobia of having to walk in high places.” 

“That doesn’t sound very rational…” 

He snorted and replied, “Right, and your fear of snakes is very rational.” 

“Hey!” Ginny protested. “If you’d ever come across a Naga, you’d know why that is a very legitimate phobia to have.” 

“Well, I fought a Basilisk once, and I can’t imagine anything worse than that.” 

The door swung open. 

“You’ve fought a Basilisk ?” Ginny asked, her mouth hanging open in shock. 

Harry was too preoccupied gawking at her to answer her question, though—she was wearing her pirate breeches, which hugged her legs to accentuate the subtle curve from her hips to her calves. Sturdy boots laced up to right underneath her knees. A loose white shirt was tucked into her breeches, the collar diverging to expose her collarbones. It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing anything under that shirt, and Harry found that all the blood in his body was in a rush to reach his groin. 

“Erm, yes. A basilisk was set loose in Hogwarts, in my second year,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away from Ginny, who was running her fingers through her hair and pulling the strands together to tie a braid. 

“You fought a Basilisk at twelve ?” she asked, clearly unable to believe it. 

“It sounds more impressive than it was,” Harry brushed it away. “The Headmaster’s phoenix blinded the snake, so it was much easier for me to kill it.” 

“Blinded or not, a Basilisk isn’t easy to kill, Harry,” Ginny pointed out, sounding extremely impressed. “How did you kill it?” 

“Well, I got the sword of Godric Gryffindor,” he said flippantly, much more interested in the way his wife’s shirt was loosely hanging on her frame, almost begging to be ripped away. 

Ginny turned to look at him, tilting her head to the side and smirking, “You’re a mystery, Harry Potter.” She strode towards him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Grateful to have an excuse to brush his palms against her hips, Harry groaned into her mouth. She pulled back to say, “You surprise me every day.” 

“Likewise,” he said, swiping his tongue against her lower lip. She gave in to the kiss for a few seconds more, but then pushed away from him. 

“That was a good attempt at distraction, but we’re going for that hike.” 

They made their way to the trail—a soft summer breeze was flowing, the leaves rustling and swaying to the rhythm. There were very few sounds around them, only the chirping of a few birds in the distance and the crunch of their boots against the rocky earth as they traversed further up the path. 

Harry let Ginny take the lead and not only because that gave him free rein to admire the structural integrity of her breeches. No, if he focused on the steep fall to his right, he was in danger of panicking. So instead, he kept his eyes on her as she led him, hand in hand, up the winding trail. 

The forest was beginning to swallow them up, leaving the hot rays of the sun behind them. The air grew cooler under the thick canopy. It was strangely soothing, walking silently under the shadow of the cedar trees, the air thick with the woody scent. They spoke no words, but their soft, laboured breaths were in sync. 

The trail curved upwards onto an even narrower ledge with a sharp drop to the right. They were now high enough that the trees along the slope had disappeared, leaving them exposed to the sun once again. Involuntarily, Harry slowed, eyes flicking nervously to the edge.

Ginny noticed immediately.

“Are you alright?” she asked, turning to take both his hands in hers. 

“No,” Harry managed to croak. 

“Don’t look down,” she chided him, making him jerk back to look at her instead. “Keep your eyes on me, alright? I’ll lead us out.” 

She led him step by step, their fingers laced tightly. 

“I used to climb the hills near Bombay when I was younger,” Ginny told him, engaging him in conversation to take his mind off. “Fred and George teased me, saying that girls don’t climb and that I was going to trip over the hem of my dress. That was the first time I wore trousers—snuck into Ron’s room to steal a pair.” 

“I can’t imagine your mother taking that well,” Harry said, keeping his gaze firmly on her small but strong frame as she led him through the treacherous path, pointing out specific sturdy spots on which to place his feet.

“No, that first climb, I ended up scraping both my knees as well as my left elbow as I tumbled down a slope. My mother was furious—forbade me from ever going back out to explore the hills on my own, not even on a broom.” She switched her hand in his before he had a chance to tell her that he didn’t mind holding her clammy fingers. “Of course, Bill eventually convinced her to let me go. He was always on my side, you know? She eventually got the tailor to make me my own pair of trousers. For my ‘boyish adventures’, she said.” 

“And then did you get back to climbing?” 

“Oh yes, I got back to it the first chance I had. I’ve never been one to run away from a challenge. I just had to prove my brothers wrong, you know?” 

Harry chuckled. “You were always that stubborn?”

“Always,” she said, turning to the side to wink at him. “And here we are…” 

They made it past the cliffside and into the wider stretch of the summit, shaded by towering apple trees and bright patches of wildflowers. Harry took a deep breath, happy to be past the danger. They found two boulders to sit on, catching their breath. 

From where they sat, Harry looked out towards the panorama of the Himalayas. Snowy white mountains peaked from behind smaller blue hills. Small villages and towns were dotted across the landscape, which he viewed with longing. 

“Would you ever wish for this?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. 

Ginny’s face was beautifully flushed from the hike. “Wish for what?” 

“A life without the fight.”

“Sometimes.” She looked away, her eyes roaming across the serene view. “But then I think… It’s stupid to wish for a world without a fight. Because the fight is out there, whether you want it or not. The only way to sit out is to enjoy your privilege and forget about the others who don’t have a choice. And I don’t know how to do that.” 

Harry’s heart swelled with admiration.

“And you?” she asked him. “Would you be able to ignore the fight?” 

“The fight is why I became an Auror.” 

They shared a smile, scooting closer together. 

Harry leaned in slowly, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, unhurried, like the rest of the morning. When they broke apart, she leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed in contentment. 

They stayed that way for a long time, listening to the wind move through the trees, their hands still clasped together.

***

They returned to the Weasley house. 

Their hands entwined, Harry and Ginny landed in the yard. Even before she had the chance to fully blink and adjust to her new surroundings, her mother enveloped her in a hug that nearly squeezed out the air from her lungs. 

“Oh, my darling, look at you—you’re glowing!” Molly pulled back to examine Ginny from head to toe. “Did you like the cottage? And what about the house elf? Did she take good care of you both? Did you like the food there?” 

“We were very well taken care of, Molly,” Harry interjected, pulling Molly’s attention away from Ginny, much to her relief.

“Oh, Harry, you look like you’ve gained some colour on your cheeks as well, haven’t you?” 

“Mum!” Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes at the fuss. 

“Oh, I’m just so happy to have you both back home,” her mother gushed and pulled her in for a kiss. 

When she let go of her, Ginny stepped forward to greet the rest of her family. 

Hermione was the next one to pull her into a hug, followed by Anjali and Fleur. Meanwhile, her brothers patted Harry on the back in greeting. 

“So, how was it?” Hermione asked, barely waiting a breath. “Romantic? Awkward? Too many silences?” 

Ginny stole a glance at Harry, who was standing close enough that he had heard Hermione’s question. In fact, almost the entire group was waiting for her to share her verdict. 

She loved her family, but they really needed to learn boundaries. 

“A bit of both, I suppose?” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Ron commented, slipping his arm around Hermione’s shoulders as he joined their conversation. “I can see you both still holding hands. That’s a sign it all went well, isn’t it?” 

She and Harry shared an almost panicked look and pulled back their hands at lightning speed. 

“No need to hide it now, the secret’s out already!” Ron chuckled. 

“Honestly,” Ginny muttered. “Can’t a married couple return home without being examined like a pair of breeding Kneazles?”

“Not when there’s been a betting pool going on how well your honeymoon would have gone,” Bill chimed in. “I’m afraid Percy seems to have won the pot. He bet that you’d come back holding hands. I bet that you’d be too preoccupied and miss the Portkey entirely.” 

“Percy? You’re betting on our honeymoon?” Ginny asked, taken aback by her brother’s behaviour. As the most rule-adhering and serious brother she had, Percy hardly ever participated in Weasley antics. 

He straightened his glasses haughtily and simply commented, “It was a sound financial opportunity, Ginny.” He turned to Ron and Bill. “I shall be waiting for my five galleons, brothers.” 

“Five galleons!” Hermione protested, throwing Ron an icy look. He panicked and defended himself immediately. “Well, how could I know that Harry would be able to win Ginny over quite so quickly?” 

“You’re incorrigible, the lot of you,” Ginny seethed. 

The rest of the day passed by in a flash as they spent time with the family. Dinner was a lavish affair—Ginny could tell that her mother had put a lot of effort into planning and executing the extensive menu for their return. With only about a month left before their departure to England, she could feel her mother’s trepidation and worry. 

But for now, she had bigger things to worry about, so she pushed away thoughts of her impending separation from the family for a little while longer.

After dinner, they waited in her room for the clock to strike midnight. 

“Are we meeting at your ship?” Harry asked as they snuck out into the yard from her balcony. 

“Another hideout, actually. One of my crewmates, Kabir, is a spice merchant. His warehouse is generally empty at night, safe enough for us to discuss our plans.” 

Ginny Apparated them to the moonlit alley behind the warehouse. She looked around to see whether they were alone. The alley was quiet, with only the distant sounds of waves crashing against the docks. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry tense up and whip out his wand, at the ready. 

“Just in case,” he told her when he saw her looking. 

She led them to the rusted door, tapping her wand against it and whispering the password in Urdu. The lock unlatched with a click. 

“What does that mean?” Harry asked her, intrigued. 

“Long live the revolution.” 

Inside, the warehouse was damp and dimly lit, but they followed the trail of low murmurs of her crew. 

Amara stood at the head of the table, her arms folded against her chest. Raj was hovering over the table, studying a map of the Bombay coastline along with Kabir. Devaki and Arjun were off to the side, deep in conversation. Ishaan and Parvati were checking the cauldron to oversee a potion brewing. 

“Welcome back, Captain,” Kabir said, not looking up immediately.

“We’ve got new information,” Ginny spoke loudly, enough to attract the attention of the entire crew. 

“We?” Kabir asked, finally looking up. 

Seven pairs of eyes landed simultaneously on Harry, and he tensed further under the attention. Since he was not familiar with the language, he had no idea what was being said, but had probably surmised that he was the subject of their conversation. 

“So you’ve brought your Auror husband along, have you? Without consulting the rest of us?” Raj was always quick to anger. He pointed at Harry, his face twisted with obvious dislike. “Way to put our mission in danger, Ginny.” He turned to the rest of the crew. “I told you we could never trust English scum.” 

Ginny held back her tongue, but Kabir was quick to rebuke Raj. 

“I’m half-English, Raj. Am I scum too?” He turned to Ginny. “You shouldn’t have brought an Auror here, Ginny. I know he’s your husband, but he can put the entire mission in danger.” 

“Kabir, he’s known about my identity for weeks, and he’s seen our ship already. If he wanted to get us thrown into prison, he could have done that many times over by now,” Ginny explained calmly. Despite Raj having ticked her off with his lack of trust, she knew that there was nothing to be gained by losing her temper. It wouldn’t be easy for Harry to gain the trust of her crew—she’d known that. 

Raj scoffed. “Just because he hasn’t turned us in yet doesn’t mean he won’t . We cannot trust him.” 

“Then trust me!” Ginny replied with conviction. She appealed to Kabir’s senses again, who was perhaps the most tolerant out of the group. “Listen, when we were in Simla, we snuck into the Ministry offices. Harry spied for us, our cause . He found the woman running the Office of Colonial Trade. Someone called Dolores Umbridge. He also found this.” She pulled out the decree as well as the list of apothecaries and wandmakers who were going to be targeted by the Ministry. “The decree is in effect next week. They will barely give the people any time to protest against it or to hide their products or raw materials.” 

There was a moment of silence as Kabir read the decree. Out of the group, he, Parvati, and Ishaan were the only ones who could understand English. Ginny saw Kabir battle with several emotions as he read the document. 

“What does it say, Kabir?” Devaki asked, resting her palm on his arm. 

Ginny let Kabir explain the new changes in the laws to the rest of the group. There were gasps and loud curses thrown around. Everyone seemed to be in shock that the British administration would truly sink so low and openly steal from the Indian communities. 

Ginny took the chance to glance at Harry, who was clearly focused on portraying an outwardly calm and patient facade, but she could guess that he was feeling confused and maybe even a bit frustrated. 

“They don’t trust you,” she whispered to him.

“Yeah, I don’t need to understand Hindi to know that.” He kept looking ahead at her crew, who were still reacting to the decree. 

“Well, I know I can convince them to trust you.” Harry looked uncertain, so she added, “Eventually.” 

Kabir cleared his throat. 

“And he got this for us? By sneaking into the Ministry?” 

“He believes in what we’re doing,” Ginny told them. “He knows exactly what the Ministry is doing—and he wants to help stop it.”

“You say that,” Devaki muttered, arms crossed, “but people say a lot of things when they’re in love.”

Ginny glanced once more towards Harry, suddenly grateful that he wasn’t able to understand what was being said. She turned back to her crew. 

“That’s not what’s happening here. We married because of an unbreakable betrothal contract, you know this.” Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. “Harry is not in love with me.” For some unexplained reason, the words caused a painful squeeze in her stomach. “The only reason he’s helping us is because he is a man who cannot stand to see people being treated unjustly. Any people.” 

Kabir exchanged a long glance with Amara, who hadn’t spoken yet. The former gave a resigned nod, stepping away from the table.

“I don’t know anything about this man, but I know Ginny,” she said, emphasising each word. “And if she chooses to trust him, then we will trust him as well.” 

After that, there weren’t many protests in the group, though Raj continued to glare at Harry from time to time. 

Kabir laid out the parchment on the table and leaned over it. “The Ministry plans to seize raw ingredients and wand materials from the local wandmakers and apothecaries starting next week. Do we know from where these goods will be shipped back to England?” 

Ginny pointed towards his map. “Harry found out from Ron, my brother, that security measures will be increased for the Bombay as well as the Karwar port in the upcoming weeks. Rumour has it that an additional force of CEU will be dispatched to ensure the safe shipment of these resources.” 

Amara crossed her arms. “And you’re suggesting we intercept the shipment?”

“It would be impossible to steal it from the ports if the CEU is going to be out there,” Parvati interrupted. 

Ginny nodded. “Yes. But if we can strike after it’s loaded but before it’s out of reach—just outside Indian waters—we can reclaim what’s been stolen.”

“And also send a message to the Ministry that we will not be taking this lying down,” Kabir declared, the beginnings of a small smile lifting the corner of his lips.  

“We’ll need another ship,” Arjun said. “If we’re to hit ships from both ports at the same time.” 

“I’ll arrange that,” Kabir responded. He turned to Devaki and Parvati. “We’ll need Fog Potions.” 

“Ishaan,” Amara said, turning to the Metamorphmagus, “Can you get back into CEU headquarters and find out more details—how many ships will there be, the exact time they’ll be departing, and whether we can expect larger crews than usual?”

Ishaan smiled mischievously. “I have been tailing a Trade officer for a week now. I bet I can play him convincingly enough to even fool the fucker’s wife.” 

Amara rolled her eyes at the use of the foul language. 

“And who’s captaining the two vessels?” Raj asked, not even bothering to hide that he was openly questioning Ginny’s leadership. 

“I will captain Kaalratri , as I always have.” Ginny raised her chin, challenging Raj to disagree with her. 

There was a pause, then almost everyone murmured their assent. Kabir held her gaze for a few moments, his eyes flickering to look at Harry for a second, and then nodded his approval. 

“I’ll take the other one,” Amara announced. “How quickly can you ready the other ship?” she asked Kabir. 

As the group broke into planning more details of the heist, Harry leaned closer to Ginny, his breath tickling her ear as he asked, “Any chance you’ll catch me up with the plan before you set sail?” 

She couldn’t hold back her smile at his playful tone. “I’ll catch you up at home. Mostly, we’ll need you to run interference with the security. I know that the CEU will involve the local Auror office, and that will give us the tactical advantage we need to pull this off successfully.” 

Before Harry could say anything more, there was a tap on Ginny’s shoulder.

It was Amara, nodding towards Harry in a stiff greeting. He offered a lopsided smile in response.

“I need to speak with you for a moment.” 

Ginny apologised to Harry and said, “I’ll just be back in a couple of minutes.” 

She hated leaving him on his own amidst her less-than-friendly crew, but he gestured for her to go anyway, putting on a smile. 

“It’s about the ring you asked Ali to track,” Amara said when they were far enough away from the group. 

Ginny’s stomach dropped at her ominous tone. “What happened?”

“We traced it. It was sold in Panaji. To a collector.” 

“A collector? That’s brilliant. I can buy it back!” 

Amara took hold of Ginny’s hand and squeezed. “Ginny, it’s a Naga collector.” Her voice dropped even lower. “A clan leader. By now, he would have taken it back to his cave .” 

Ginny’s heart began to race with fear. “No!” 

“I’m sorry,” Amara said, looking like she meant it. 

“No, I have to get it back. At any cost.” She glanced briefly at Harry. She knew just how precious and irreplaceable that ring was for him. After all that he’d done for her—selflessly helping her accomplish her mission, putting his life and career in danger when he could have simply walked away—she owed it to him to get this heirloom back for him. “Where is the cave?” 

“You cannot be serious, Ginny.” Amara’s eyes widened. “You’ll get killed.” 

“Listen, I won’t go there by myself, alright? I’m not stupid,” Ginny reassured her. “I simply want to know where the cave is. I’ll try sending one of Ali’s men in to negotiate for the ring.” 

“You know that won’t work!” 

“I have to try, Amara, please!” 

Amara sighed, giving in to her demand. “South. Near the edge of the jungle, past Ratnagiri. That’s where you’ll find his cave.” She warned Ginny, “Promise me you will not do anything reckless.” 

“Of course not. I just have to try once more, for his sake.” 

“Are you in love with him?” Amara narrowed her eyes at Ginny. 

Ginny laughed dismissively. “No, that’s not it. I’m just grateful. For everything he’s done for me.” 

“I don’t know, Ginny, this doesn’t look like gratitude to me,” Amara said, unconvinced. 

“Trust me, that’s all there is.” 

***

Three days later, Harry stretched his back, tired from leaning over the desk for the past hour. The lamp on his desk flickered gently, casting shadows across the paperwork he’d been half-heartedly trying to finish. 

He checked his watch again, groaning in mounting frustration at the wait. 

Ginny still hadn’t returned.

She’d left sometime after dinner, telling him that she had ‘a quick meeting’ with her crew. “Back by midnight,” she’d promised him with her cheeky smile. 

It was now nearing two, and Harry was growing more impatient by the minute. Granted, he didn’t know his wife well enough to know whether running two hours late could be considered normal behaviour, but his gut told him that something was wrong. 

He pushed his paperwork away, not able to focus on it anyway. 

The bottle of ink tipped, spilling over the sheets. “Fuck,” he cursed and used his wand to slowly siphon the spilled ink and clean up the mess he’d made. 

He paused when he heard the unmistakable creak of wood outside—the sound of someone landing lightly on the balcony. Expecting to see Ginny, he heaved a great sigh of relief and stood up to greet her. When the door to the balcony opened, though, he saw an unfamiliar figure in the shadow. 

He gripped his wand tightly, raising it in alarm. The figure lifted their hood. 

“Amara?” he asked, stunned, lowering his wand only a little. “What are you doing here?” Then a panic began to rise in him. “Where’s Ginny?” 

From the guilty look in Amara’s dark eyes, Harry could tell that Ginny was in danger. 

“She not come,” Amara spoke in broken English. 

“What?” A chill ran down Harry’s spine in alarm. “ Where is Ginny ?” 

“She not come for meeting.” Amara was almost apologetic. “Me think she gone.” 

“Gone? Gone where?” His heart was beating too fast, the growing fear of Ginny being in danger rising up like tidal waves. 

“To Naga cave.” 

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. “Wait. What cave? What are you talking about?”

He thought back to the time that Ginny had confessed that her greatest fear was snakes, mostly because she’d once seen men who’d come to her teacher to be healed after they’d been attacked by a clan of Nagas. She would never have been stupid enough to walk into a Naga cave of her own volition, would she? 

Amara shifted impatiently, struggling to say the right words. 

“ Angoothi ,” she said, pointing at the thin band she wore around her finger. “ Angoothi !” 

“Ring?” Harry guessed when Amara stuck her ring finger in his face. 

“Yes—ring!” She huffed in frustration. “You lost ring, yes?”

Harry nodded, confused. What did this have to do with his ring? 

“Yes, but— wait! She’s gone to get my ring ?” 

“Yes. She want ring back!” Amara nodded vigorously, perhaps happy that she was able to communicate with Harry despite the language barrier. 

He stared at her, throat dry. “But—she told me she just had some crew matters to attend to. She didn’t say anything about—”

“She lie,” Amara insisted. “She lie to me also. She go alone.” It was evident from the strain in the woman’s voice that she was just as afraid for Ginny’s well-being as Harry was. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath. Of course, she hadn’t told him. It was typical of Ginny to assume that she’d need to fix things on her own. 

He looked at Amara, already moving toward his travelling cloak. “Where is the cave?”

“Ratnagiri south. Far. Whole jungle Naga land. No one go near.”

“Well, I can’t leave her out there alone. I’m going after her,” Harry snapped, regretting his blunt tone only after the words had left his mouth. He stuffed his Invisibility Cloak into the pocket of his cloak.

“Me come also,” Amara spoke fiercely, unaffected by his short behaviour. 

“No, you said it’s too dangerous.” 

“She my captain. My friend . Me go!” 

They stared at each other for a brief moment, both too stubborn to leave Ginny on her own out there. 

“Fine.” He grabbed his enchanted travel bag. Harry picked up his quill and scratched a quick note to Ron, just in case they were not back in time. “Let’s go.” 

“Can we Apparate to this place? Do you know it?” Harry asked.

Amara grabbed his hand. “We go to road near jungle. After we walk.”

Harry nodded, hoping he’d understood her correctly. “And if Ginny’s already in the cave?”

Amara didn’t say anything, but the look she gave Harry made his blood run cold. 

With a sharp crack, they disappeared into the night, straight into a Naga’s nest.

Chapter Text

Every step took them deeper into the jungle, which seemed to groan and gurgle with eerie sounds, as if trying to warn them off. The thick, humid air suffocated Ginny, and she struggled against the hood of her cloak. The sweat trickled down her face, dripping from her chin. 

“This is far enough, Fury.” Ali turned to her, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, fear and unease carved into the lines of his face. “I promised I would show you where the cave is, but I cannot go any further.” 

Ginny tried to muster her courage and smiled at her companion. 

“I’m not asking you to come with me, Ali.” She glanced at the overgrown cliff peeking from trees in the distance. “I can handle it from here.” 

Ali hesitated. “Are you sure? Killing a Naga on his own out here is hard enough. How will you survive a whole cave full of them?” 

“I don’t need to kill them, Ali. I just need to get my ring back.” 

He barked out a harsh, humourless laugh. “Stealing from them is the biggest offence a human can commit. They will never let you leave the cave with something they own.” 

“Well, they don’t own it,” Ginny argued. “It belongs to my—” She paused. No one apart from her crew knew her true identity, and while Ali had never done anything to make her suspect his allegiance, she couldn’t take the risk of revealing anything more than was required. “It belongs to someone close to me. It’s the only ring of its kind. I cannot— will not —let it go without a fight.” 

“Fury, the Nagas are ancient creatures. They don’t forgive, they don’t forget. If they catch you—” 

“They won’t,” Ginny reassured him, though she didn’t feel as confident as she’d tried to sound. “I’ll be fast.” 

“Fury, please…” 

“Ali, go back. If I’m not back in twenty-four hours, you tell Amara where I am, alright?” 

The man looked unconvinced, but didn’t argue any further. He gave her one last look of pity and then walked away. After a few minutes, the crunch of his boots could no longer be heard. 

Ginny inhaled slowly, trying to calm her hammering heart. 

She remembered what happened to someone if they were bitten by a Naga. Naga venom didn’t kill you quickly—it dragged your death out, slowly attacking your senses until you couldn’t tell illusions from reality. She had seen a man tortured by the demons in his head, turning black and blue, frothing from his mouth, until her teacher healed him. 

She tapped her bag again. The rough shape of the bezoar she’d stuffed into it before she’d left was the one comfort she had. If she got attacked and somehow managed to get away, there was a chance that she could save herself. Maybe . 

I have to do this , she reminded herself. For Harry . 

She continued walking until she came face to face with the cave—vines hung like serpents from the cliff, framing the menacing mouth that was carved into the cliffside. Ginny could hear the faint trickling of a river emerging from inside the cave—she’d been told that Nagas preferred to live in caves with underground rivers or falls. They were known as the guardians of water as well as treasures. And they dwelled only where both were available in abundance. 

She hovered on the threshold of the cave, trying to gather her courage. 

“Come on, Ginny.” She gripped her wand tightly. “Don’t be a coward now!” 

She Disillusioned herself—even though her skill with the charm was limited, it would still make her difficult to spot. 

The air inside was cooler, damp and earthy. Each step forward sent a ghostly echo into the blackness. She muffled her footsteps with a flick of her wand and crouched to make sure that she could sneak in unseen if anyone inside had a plain view of the entrance. 

The floor and walls of the cave seemed to twinkle in the dark. Out of curiosity, Ginny lit up the tip of her wand and pressed it closer to the wall. “ Holy fuck ,” she whispered, face to face with raw emeralds, crystals, rubies, and more embedded into the rock. She was mesmerised, absently reaching with her fingers to trace the shape of the precious crystals. Shaking her head, she retreated—she couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

Ginny crawled slowly, carefully approaching the point where the tunnel opened into a large cavern, the ceiling rose several feet into the air. An underground river cut across the middle of the cavern. 

Ginny could hear a few murmurs in a language she didn’t recognise, but it sounded a lot like hissing. However, she could see no one. There were more tunnels and openings at the end of the cavern, so she assumed that this was a larger cave system, which meant that there was no telling how many Nagas could be lurking around. She needed to be quick. 

She straightened up a little when she was sure that there was no one around who could catch a glimpse of her. Her eyes widened in awe as she let them roam over the treasures strewn across the floor of the cavern, as if they meant nothing. There were piles and piles of sparkling jewels, gold coins and precious artefacts. It was a hoard of riches—breathtaking and utterly overwhelming. 

She raised her wand and whispered, “ Accio ring.”

Nothing happened.

She tried again, more focused. “ Accio Lily Potter’s ring.”

Still, nothing.

Ginny’s stomach clenched—if she couldn’t summon the ring with magic, she would have to search for it by hand. She saw the expanse of the cavern and the sheer number of treasures these Nagas had hoarded. She groaned—how in the world would she find such a small piece of jewellery in a sea of gold and glitter? 

But she wasn’t ready to give up that easily. 

Muttering a curse, she dropped to her knees and approached the first pile to her right. She sifted through gilded trinkets—rings, bracelets, necklaces, even brooches—but Harry’s ring was nowhere to be found. 

Ginny crawled to the next pile. 

And then the next. 

And the next. 

She was exhausted, having looked through about a dozen piles by now. Her stomach rumbled at the lack of nutrition. Under normal circumstances, she might have prioritised food, but this was too important. It was her fault that Harry lost his ring in the first place. How stupid she’d been, stealing the ring from him when she’d already decided that she wouldn’t steal from civilians. Except, he’d tackled and threatened to arrest her. In anger and revenge, she’d stolen his belongings. 

Including a ring that symbolised the love his mother and father had shared. 

She knew what it meant to have an heirloom from a dead father. She had her father’s pocket watch, which she kept safely tucked into the bottom of her bedside drawer. If that ever went missing, she wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive herself. 

No, she had to get Harry’s ring back. She had to !

Determined, she bent over another pile. After rummaging for about five minutes, she saw the glint of an emerald, hidden beneath a pair of golden bangles. She reached for it excitedly and then almost whooped for joy—she’d found it! 

Ginny had only seen the ring once when she’d stolen it, but she was sure that it was the same ring—a cushion-shaped emerald sat in the middle, flanked by two small diamonds, encased in yellow gold. She remembered that on the side of the band, there were initials that were magically carved into the ring— LE & JP . 

Turning the ring in her hand, she searched for the initials to confirm her find, but was astonished to find that the initials had now changed— GW & HP . 

“What?” she whispered, confused.

A rustle echoed behind her.

Ginny froze, clutching the ring tighter in her hand. 

She turned just in time to see a young Nagin emerge from one of the tunnels. Bookish descriptions did not do justice to the creature in front of Ginny—she was half-human and half-serpent. Her upper half had a human body, while her lower half was that of a snake—black and scaly, slithering across the damp floor of the cavern. She had black, matted hair and terrifying red eyes. Her naked upper body was adorned with jewellery, as if to show off her excessive wealth. 

The Nagin shrieked, “ THIEF !” 

The word ricocheted off the walls of the cavern—more of these serpents would be joining the fray very soon. Ginny plucked her wand off the floor and screamed, “ Stupefy !” 

The spell bounced off the hard scales of the Nagin, and her red, slitted eyes widened with fury. Her snake-like tongue danced past her lips, and she hissed at Ginny, slithering faster towards where she stood. 

The Nagin’s tail whipped in the air, striking hard in Ginny’s direction.

She ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow, and scrambled backwards. She raised her wand once more, screaming, “ Bombarda !” at the ceiling of the cavern. It caused a small blast that showered a few pieces of debris on the serpent, but that did little more than slow her down for a few seconds. 

The Nagin swiped her tail once more, catching Ginny on her side, sending her tumbling towards the right. The force knocked the ring out of her hand, and she cried out in frustration. She couldn’t flee without the ring, not when she’d come so far. 

She huffed at the pain in her ribs but got up anyway, scurrying to find where the ring landed. She saw it and made a grab for it, but missed. A pain shot up her leg—the Nagin’s tail wrapped around Ginny and jerked her back. Ginny’s head smashed against the side of a rock as she was dragged into the air. 

Pointing her wand at the Nagin, she sent a Cutting Curse. The spell barely scratched the creature’s skin—she smiled with malice, hissing at Ginny once more. 

There was a flash of movement, and Ginny felt teeth break into the skin on her neck. She screamed in agony, already feeling the Nagin’s venom entering her bloodstream. Her vision blurred instantly. She felt herself being thrown into the air. 

No, no, she couldn’t give up . 

In a last, desperate attempt—unsure whether what she was about to do would even work— she raised her wand and yelled, “ Accio Ginny Potter’s ring!” 

The last thing she felt before her body hit the river was a small ring zoom into her fingers. She thought she heard someone scream her name, but it was lost in the rush of water as she plunged into the cold current, which dragged her under.

The grip on her wand slackened, and even though the ring was still clenched firmly in her grasp, she could feel no triumph. It was over, she failed. And she was going to die in a cave with no one any wiser.

She thought feebly of Harry—at least he could now marry someone he truly loved. 

And then all conscious thought ceased—her lungs burned with water.

Darkness closed in fast until there was nothing.

***

Harry was breathing in short huffs as they awkwardly ran through the thick, tropical flora of the jungle. He had already stopped himself from slipping on the damp ground multiple times. On the other hand, Amara was swift and agile, effortlessly leading him through the vines and shrubbery of the terrain, barefoot !

They didn’t exchange any words—both due to the urgency of the situation and the struggle of having to understand each other. Harry was still amazed that he and Amara had exchanged enough words to reach all the way here. 

His heart was beating erratically, gripped with fear for Ginny. She had been gone for a couple of hours. She would have reached the cave by now. And based on what he knew of her; she would have entered it already. 

He cursed aloud and picked up speed. 

Soon, the cave loomed ahead of them. A chill ran down Harry’s spine when he came face to face with the intimidating mouth of the cave, ready to swallow and consume like an ancient beast. 

Ginny is inside !

Harry tightened his grip on his wand, glancing sideways at Amara, who was panting lightly, sweat glistening on her brow. 

“Careful,” she warned him. “Inside…death.” 

She signalled for him to be quiet and gestured for him to follow. He followed her suit and crouched, inching slowly into the cave. 

The two of them made their way through the dark tunnel, crawling through the dampness and darkness that seemed to sparkle now and then, both in a hurry to reach Ginny. As they slipped through one bend in the tunnel, Harry saw a faint light towards the end. 

A scream cut through the stillness of the night. 

Amara and Harry shared a panicked look—there was no doubt—this was Ginny. 

Throwing all caution to the wind, Harry began to run. He sprinted the rest of the tunnel, entering a large cavern at the end, which was faintly illuminated by flaming torches mounted on the walls. His eyes barely lingered on the trinkets and treasures piled up on the floor, since they sought only his wife. 

He saw her dangling high in the air, held up by the constricting tail of the eight-foot-tall half-human, half-serpent creature in front of him. Harry watched with horror as the snake flicked her tail and sent Ginny’s body flying through the air, until it hit the water of the underground river with a great splash. 

“GINNY!” he screamed, his voice breaking with fear and panic. 

He sprinted towards the bank of the river and saw her body sink into the water. Without hesitation, he leapt. 

His body hit the water with a strong thud. The current of the water was stronger than what he guessed from the outside—it sucked him under. He heaved one great breath and let himself be carried by the current. 

He flailed his limbs, diving deeper. 

Harry caught sight of her red hair, flowing beneath him like blood in water. He kicked his legs harder, aching to reach out to her. His fingertips grazed her arm, but he was pulled back, and she sank lower. Desperate to reach her, he felt a buzz of adrenaline in his body and pushed further. 

His hand closed around her wrist. He pulled her closer and then gathered her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. He used all the strength of his body to kick upwards, his lungs screaming for air. 

He broke out of the water with a great gasp. 

Once outside, Harry pulled Ginny close, his fear gripping him anew when he noticed that she was unconscious. He dragged her along, struggling to reach the bank. He hauled her limp form out of the water and collapsed next to her, his heart leaping into his throat. 

“Ginny— Ginny, please—,” he begged, sitting up to grab her shoulders and shake her awake. “Ginny, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.” 

Every breath that left his body was a plea, an aching prayer . 

Ginny wasn’t moving. 

Harry fished out his wand from his pocket, pointing it at her chest. He cast a spell, and then another, pulling the water from her lungs. 

“Come on, Ginny,” Harry pleaded, holding her close. “Gin— love, breathe !” 

For a moment, nothing happened, but then Ginny convulsed, spluttering the excess water from her lungs with a choke. 

He heard her broken gasp and nearly collapsed with relief. “You’re okay, you’re alright,” he muttered repeatedly. “You’ll be alright.” He cradled her to his chest, unaware of anything but the colossal reassurance that Ginny was alive. He could hear her ragged breaths, even though she didn’t regain consciousness. Pressing a kiss to her brow, he laid her back down. 

He turned sharply, raising his wand, to see Amara locked in battle with the Nagin. 

The creature hissed at her, sending rocks flying in her direction with her hard, scaly tail. The pirate was responding with spell after spell, but they were doing very little beyond slowing the creature down. Spells exploded between them, lighting up the cavern in sparks of red and blue. 

And then came the cavalry—more creatures began to slither out from the tunnels at the end of the cavern. They were soon surrounded by four of them. 

Harry sprinted and began to aim spells at the Nagas. 

“ Expulso , Confringo , Reducto !” 

Nothing seemed to work. There was chaos—Harry barely avoided two tails as they lashed down at him, rolling away from the crossfire. He glanced at Amara, who was faring no better, though she had somehow whipped out a curved blade and had managed to slash the scaly skin of a Nagin, who screamed in pain and fury. 

“There are too many of them,” Harry yelled. He ducked once more, nearly getting snatched by another creature’s tail. “We have to distract them and run.” 

Amara swiped violently at another Naga with her blade with one hand and then reached into her bag with the other. Whipping out a small vial of potion, she turned to Harry and instructed, “Take Ginny. Run on signal.” 

Harry’s first instinct was to do exactly what she had said, and he rushed to Ginny’s side, creating a strong shield around them to save them from any attacks. He gathered her small body in his arms, draping her over his shoulder to free one of his hands for fighting. He began to retreat towards the cave entrance, slowly backing away as he continued to cast spells at the Nagas to keep them at bay.

“ Bombarda !” He pointed at a large boulder, shattering it in the face of a Naga who was creeping closer, making the creature hiss and retreat. 

Then he glanced at Amara, who was quickly becoming overwhelmed, slashing with her curved sword. Harry saw a Naga wrap the end of his tail around her ankle, and she stumbled, but managed to escape when she stabbed the creature hard. 

Even his overwhelming desire to rescue Ginny wasn’t enough for Harry to take the opportunity and run, though. What would be the point of saving his wife’s life if she would just turn around and murder him for abandoning her crew member in a cave of serpents? 

Harry lowered Ginny to the floor again, resting her back against the tunnel they needed to use to escape. And then he joined the fight again, just as two Nagas were closing in on Amara, grasping her arms. The curved blade fell to the floor, along with the vial of potion she had been holding. The woman screamed when the Nagas pulled, stretching her body and lifting her into the air. Harry grabbed the sword from the floor and leapt, cutting off one scaly appendage, making the Naga howl in agony and retreat. 

Harry waved the blade at the other creature, but before his strike could land, the Naga retreated. Amara fell to the floor. She was quick, immediately crawling to where the potion had fallen. Hauling herself to her feet, she launched the vial into the air and screamed at Harry, “FIRE!” 

For a split second, he hesitated. But then his instincts kicked in and he pointed at the potion suspended in mid-air and screamed, “ Incendio !” 

The energy of the explosion threw Harry back towards the tunnel, his back colliding with a rocky edge, piercing his skin even through his cloak. The blade in his hand clattered away. He groaned, gathering himself and crawling towards where Ginny lay in front of him. He dragged himself up to stand, his back quivering with a sharp ache. 

Ignoring his pain, he glanced back at the cavern, tall flames now rising all over the cavity. His eyes frantically searched for Amara. He heaved a great sigh in relief when he saw her crawl towards them, looking battered and bruised, but alive. 

She threw him a sour look of urgency, as if she couldn’t believe that he’d been stupid enough to wait for her. 

“RUN!” she commanded. “Fire only slow, not kill.” 

Harry needed no more nudging. He collected Ginny, and Amara followed closely behind. They tumbled out of the cave, breaking out into violent coughs as the fumes of the fire they had created filled the entrance tunnel. 

They sprinted, Harry struggling to keep up with Ginny in his arms, until they were far enough away that they could no longer see the cave. Amara was the first to collapse on the mossy ground of the jungle, catching her breath. Harry followed suit, holding Ginny close even as he dropped to his knees in exhaustion.

Her face twisted with anger and disbelief; Amara threw an accusing finger in Harry’s face. “Tell you run. Save Ginny. You stay!” If she wasn’t so worked up, he might have found it comical that the woman was just as stubborn and quick to anger as his wife.

“I couldn’t leave you to fight those bloody snakes on your own,” Harry argued, trying his best to remain calm in the face of the fury he was witnessing. 

“Ginny important. You save her!” 

“Ginny is not more important than you, Amara,” Harry responded. Even though he knew that she was more important, at least for him. However, in the grand scheme of things, her life did not have any more worth than her friend’s. He gestured towards her unconscious form. “What do you think Ginny would have done to me if she knew that I left you in that cave to die?” 

Amara blinked, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she thought of a response, but must have come up with nothing, because she folded her arms and sat back with a huff. Harry imagined that it was a rare event for this woman to admit defeat. 

He glanced back at Ginny’s pale face, her flaming hair clinging to the side of her face. 

“What do you reckon is wrong with her?” 

Amara shrugged. “Hurt?” 

Harry began to check Ginny’s body for signs of injury. He lifted each limb, studying it for any sign of trauma. He then peeled the collars of her cloak and shirt away, studying her alabaster skin, which seemed to be losing more of its colour by the minute. 

He froze. 

Two bite marks bloomed angry and red at Ginny’s neck—unmistakably the fangs of a serpent!

“No!” Harry croaked. “She’s been bitten.” 

Amara made a strangled noise, hovering over Ginny to check the marks. She exclaimed something in her own tongue, but Harry could understand her distress very well. Dread crept back up his spine— he couldn’t lose her ! 

“We need an antidote!” Harry saw Amara’s brows furrow in confusion, perhaps because she was not familiar with the word. “Medicine!” Harry explained.

“Medicine, yes.” She jumped to her feet with renewed vigour. She extended her hand towards Harry. “Wand lost in cave.” Now beginning to understand more and more of what she said to him, he swiftly handed the woman his wand, trusting that she cared about Ginny just as much as he did. 

“Apparate,” Amara said quickly, grabbing his arm.

Crack.

They landed in a darkened room. When Amara used his wand to light up the place, Harry saw that they were standing in a dusty, seemingly abandoned cottage, ravaged by time and neglect. The air was stale, but dry. Harry spotted a dilapidated fireplace, old bits of wood still piled in the space. Amara lit the fireplace with a flick of the wand as he laid Ginny down on a musty rug near the flames.

Amara pinched Ginny’s cloak between her fingers. “Take off,” she told Harry. First loosening the strap of her satchel and keeping it on the floor to the side, he lifted her to pry her cloak from her drenched body. 

Ginny began to writhe and struggle, her lips murmuring incoherent whispers. Harry pressed closer to see that her lips were turning blue and she was freezing to the touch. 

“I think she’s hallucinating,” Harry said, voice breaking.

“Naga venom make see things,” Amara responded, checking Ginny’s pulse. “No time.” She gestured at the cottage they were seeking shelter in. “This Mr Murthy home. Medicine here.” 

Ginny’s teacher! 

If this was his abandoned cottage and had been left alone to rot since his death—which seemed like the case—then they’d be able to find the ingredients they needed to brew an antidote. Thinking back to the potion ingredients from his book on board the ship to Bombay, Harry sprang to his feet, tearing through supply cupboards. Unicorn feathers, moonstone dust, marigold pollen, banyan tree leaves, and black turmeric roots—but no sign of the last ingredient they needed to craft the potion—Phoenix tears. 

He took his wand back from Amara and even tried summoning the last ingredient, but when nothing happened, he swore out loud and kicked Ginny’s satchel across the floor. 

It hit the wall with a clunk, and something clattered out.

A small, familiar, black stone—smooth and round.

“Wait, that’s—,” Harry whispered. He grabbed and turned the stone over in his hands and almost leapt for joy. This was a bezoar ! “A bezoar. A fucking bezoar—she took one with her!”

Amara gasped audibly. 

Not wanting to waste even a single second more, Harry returned to Ginny. She was still trembling, whispering things that made no sense, her fingers clawing at the carpet underneath her. Amara came to her side, holding her arms down as he forced her jaw open, placing the stone in her mouth. He held her mouth shut until he saw the movement of her throat. 

Ginny began to convulse violently—and then stilled—her breathing slowly returning to normal. Colour began to creep back into her cheeks. Both Harry and Amara sat back, a sort of ease settling back into the room. 

The two of them observed Ginny’s soft breathing in the firelight. Neither of them needed to exchange any words to know that they were experiencing the same flurry of emotions. 

“It’s colder here,” Harry finally commented when he shivered, his damp clothes sending a chill down his spine. 

“Village on hill. Cold here,” Amara responded, never looking away from Ginny. “Ginny—we make her naked. She too cold.” As if to prove her point, she pressed the back of her knuckles against her pale skin. 

“Alright,” Harry agreed. 

Even though he’d seen Ginny naked already, his cheeks burned with embarrassment as he slowly undressed her, perhaps because Amara was in the room as well. Harry’s fingers lingered on the angry bruising along his wife’s ribs, but when he applied pressure, he could tell that nothing was broken. 

His unlikely companion was barely bothered by the lack of respect they’d collectively paid Ginny’s modesty. She calmly brought a thin blanket and placed it over her body to help her warm up next to the fire. 

Then Amara turned to Harry. 

“You naked too,” she told him, matter-of-factly. 

“W-what?” he choked. 

“You jumped in water—you cold. Take off.” 

Harry shook his head firmly. “No, I think I’ll keep my clothes on, thank you.”

The woman rolled her eyes, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “Take off. You make sick.” 

He didn’t think that she was going to give up easily, so Harry held up his palms. “Listen, Amara, I know you mean well, and I am grateful you helped me save Ginny tonight, but I don’t think I can get naked in front of you. It’s plain wrong.”

She muttered something under her breath. 

“What?” 

“Stupid Englishmen,” she repeated louder. She pulled her bag up from where she’d thrown it when they’d first reached the cottage. “Me go. My home near. Back in morning.” When Harry began to move to see her out, she stilled him with a wave of her hand. “You get naked. Sit near fire.” 

“Amara,” Harry called out to her, making her still in her path. “Thank you.” 

As she took one last look at Ginny, her eyes seemed to water, and her lip trembled with emotion. “She my friend. She save my life.” 

And then she saw herself out of the house, the door creaking shut behind her. Harry plucked his wand from the floor and set a bunch of privacy and protection charms around them. The night left him paranoid. He’d nearly lost Ginny and he wasn’t willing to take any more chances. 

Now, in the privacy of the cottage, he gave in to Amara’s advice and began to peel the wet clothes off his body. When he pulled away the fabric of his shirt from the lesion on his back, he couldn’t help but wince in pain. He collected Ginny’s clothes along with his and levitated them in the air, drying them off as much as he could with his wand, but then left them hanging for the air to finish the job. 

Checking the time on his watch—it was about four in the morning—he returned to Ginny’s side. He slid into the covers next to her, pressing himself as close as he could without hurting her. 

He watched her for some time, grateful for every breath she took. Her damp hair was a tangled mess, so he slowly undid each knot, wanting to do something— anything —so that he wouldn’t have to think about just how closely she’d brushed with death. The fear that gripped his heart that night hadn’t truly left. If he sat and thought about the swirl of emotions he was feeling, he was in danger of becoming entirely useless. He’d never felt so terrified for someone in his life before. And he didn’t want to examine what that meant—at least, not yet . 

He pressed his lips to her temple and whispered, “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

He pulled her closer, burying his face into her hair.

“I was so scared,” he confessed, his voice breaking. 

When Ginny shifted slightly, burrowing deeper in his arms, he noticed her tightly closed fist. Gently prying it open, he saw a ring cradled in the dip of her palm. 

His mother’s ring !

Harry exhaled, feeling incredulously amazed—yet again—at the woman in front of him. She’d done it! She’d saved his ring! A small, choked laugh erupted from his throat, and he kissed her again. 

“My brilliant, reckless wife,” he breathed against her cheek. 

Observing the ring in his fingers, he finally saw the changed inscription— GW & HP . His throat closed—he couldn’t help but think of the time when he’d sworn to himself that he’d never let Ginny wear this ring. So much had changed since. 

Especially how he felt about her— monumentally . 

Unable to put his feelings into words—not even to himself—Harry lifted her hand and slipped the emerald ring onto her finger, until it sat stacked on top of the other ring he’d bought for her. It looked right, as if the ring had always belonged with her. 

“I don’t know when you started to mean so much to me,” he whispered to her, his heart twisting at the sight of her. 

Because she did— she meant so much . 

And maybe she’d soon start to mean everything .

***

When Ginny regained consciousness, the very first thing she became aware of was hot breaths against her neck. She blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes to the natural light in the strangely familiar room. She shifted, feeling the dull ache in her ribs and the ashy, dry feel in her mouth. 

She turned her attention to the solid, warm presence next to her— Harry . He was asleep beside her, snoring softly. His body was curling into hers, but it looked like he’d carefully held himself away so as not to hurt her. One of his arms was tucked under his head like a pillow, and the other was on his side, though his pinkie finger was entangled with hers. 

Then she hadn’t imagined it—his voice in her ear, whispering many soft, gentle things. She had been sure that her brain was conjuring lies to ease her into death, but she’d survived. And now Harry was here, holding her close, his eyelashes fluttering as he dreamt. 

It took her a moment to realise that she was naked. And when she peeked into the blanket under which they were huddled, she found out that so was Harry. 

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment—she’d barely seen him those two times he’d let her touch him. It had been glorious to feel him writhe and moan when she’d stroked him, but she’d never really looked at what she was working with. 

And they’d never slept like this—fully naked—next to each other. 

She took advantage of the privacy to observe him, tracing the attractive features of his face—curved, black brows, his prominent nose, chapped lips, and the stubble on his chiselled chin. Her eyes wandered further down, along with her hand, as she explored his broad chest, running her fingers through the dark, sparse hair. 

Her heart stuttered. 

She lifted her hand to watch the glint of green on her finger—his mother’s ring!

So she’d brought it back—it wasn’t lost! 

And he put it on me ? Or did I ?  

She gaped at it, heart in her mouth. 

She turned the ring on her finger and found the inscription again. So, she hadn’t imagined that—the inscription had changed to say their names. Even if the ring was enchanted, why would it have changed ownership? Was it because she was his legal wife? 

She remembered summoning the ring with her own name the night before. 

There had been no time to examine what it all meant, but could it be that…? 

No , she chided herself. Harry had made it clear that he wanted to give the ring to someone he had fallen in love with. And even if a part of her wished what they had was real, the truth was entirely different. And she didn’t love him either, did she? It wouldn’t be fair of her to expect anything more than the delicate friendship they’d formed between them. 

She’d risked her life to save that ring because she knew how important it was to him. Not because she wanted him to love her. It was because she was grateful to him for all that he’d done. Because he was her husband, and she owed it to him. That was all. 

Right ? 

Before she could untangle the sudden knot in her chest, Harry shifted beside her, murmuring something incoherent and blinking awake.

“Ginny?” 

His voice was rough with sleep. He propped himself up on one elbow, blinking down at her with concern.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, brushing her hair back from her face. “Thank Merlin.”

She swallowed, the dryness in her mouth making it sting. “Yeah, just barely,” she croaked. “Can I have some water?” 

Harry summoned a flask of water from his travelling bag. He sat up, helping her sit upright as well and then pressed the flask into her hand. She drank greedily, the coolness of the water soothing her throat like a balm. 

“What happened?” Ginny asked Harry, putting the water aside. 

“You nearly died.” His voice was forcefully stable, as if he were trying his best to stay calm. “We found you in the cave. You were unconscious. Bitten, drowning.”

“Well, that explains why I feel like I’ve just come back from the dead,” she joked. Harry’s tight jaw was evidence that he didn’t appreciate her humour, but he said nothing. “How did you find out where I was?” 

“Amara came to me last night when you didn’t show up for their meeting,” he responded, watching her intently. 

“She did?” Ginny asked, genuinely surprised. “I can’t believe she asked for your help.” 

“At least someone did.” 

She ignored the hardly masked snide tone, looking around the room they were in. “Where are we? It looks familiar.” 

“Amara brought us to Mr Murthy’s cottage. She thought we’d have the ingredients to treat the venom here.” 

Ginny stilled, looking around once more, remembering what the cottage had looked like in its prime. Now that Harry had told her where they were, she could recognise familiar corners of the room. Her throat closed at the derelict condition of a home that had been a haven for people. 

“I took a bezoar with me,” she told Harry. “As a precaution.” 

“Yes.” He nodded, looking like he was holding himself back from saying more. “That’s what we ended up using.” 

They said nothing more, a taut silence between them. 

Harry cleared his throat, “You should drink some Strengthening Potion—you look pale.” He turned back towards his bag, rummaging through the items inside. Ginny watched him, wondering what exactly was making him act so prickly. The blanket was pooled around his waist, and when he turned, she caught sight of the angry laceration, cutting diagonally across his back. 

“Harry,” she gasped. “Your back!” 

He stiffened. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing—you’re bleeding.” 

“And you were bitten by a Naga.” He scowled at her, pulling a small bottle of potion. He undid the stopper and handed the potion to her. “Drink up,” he ordered. 

For once, she didn’t fight back and wordlessly did what he’d asked, tipping the potion into her mouth. Within a few seconds, she began to feel the warmth of renewed strength make its way from her fingertips to her toes. 

“Thank you,” she told Harry, handing back the vial. 

“Did you find my wand?” she asked, missing the feel of her willow wand in her palm. 

Harry looked genuinely sorry when he shook his head, “I’m sorry—it was too chaotic. I couldn’t even try to summon it.” 

“Oh.” She scratched at her wrist, not having anything better to do. “Can you summon my bag for me, please?” 

Harry obliged, handing her the satchel. 

She fished out the little container of healing salve that she’d stashed in her bag before setting out on her journey. She unscrewed the top and looked at Harry expectantly. 

“Let me?” she asked him. He sat still, defiant. “Please.” 

He shifted, exposing his back to her. She winced when she saw the extent of the injury—the jagged tear in his skin was caked with blood, and the edges of the cut were turning blue due to the bruising. She scooped some salve onto her fingertips and began to gently rub it into his skin. 

Harry groaned, his body rigid with the pain. 

“I’m sorry—had we been at home, I could have made you a Pain Potion first.” As she worked the salve into his skin, the gash began to close up. 

“It’s alright,” he responded, his voice low. 

When she was done, she fished in her bag for some bandages. “Lift your arms,” she instructed. She tied the clean cloth around his torso, securing it with a simple double knot. 

“There,” she said. “That should heal up nicely.” 

“Thank you.”

As she packed her things back into the satchel, her eyes fell once more on the ring she was wearing. 

“Harry,” she whispered, her stomach squeezing with unexplained disappointment as she nervously brushed her finger against the ring. “I didn’t mean to keep this—I don’t know when I put it on. But this is yours.” 

Harry turned to look at her, his gaze focusing on the ring. Except, he didn’t make a single move towards it. His brow furrowed slightly, and he hastily looked away, before muttering, “I… put it on you.”

She blinked. “You did?”

He nodded once.

“But… why?”

There was a pause.

“I, erm, suppose I thought it’s best if you wear it— I mean, it was lost, but my mother did send it for you, and so I thought— I think she— I mean, I would want you to wear it.” He rubbed the back of his head, glancing at Ginny as he talked. “And you did rescue it, so in a way, it’s yours already, isn’t it?” 

For whatever reason, a part of Ginny did want to keep the ring, but not like this . Not if he was giving it to her out of some false sense of obligation!

“But Harry, you told me that you wanted to give the ring to someone you were in love with,” she argued, her heart stinging at her own words. 

“I did say that,” he admitted, but did not demand the ring back anyway. 

“If you want me to have the ring because I put my life in danger for it, or because you think that it’s the right thing to do, then I don’t— I don’t want it.” 

She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined the pain in his eyes when he asked, “You don’t want it?” 

“I brought it back for you, not so that I could have it. It belongs to your mother,” Ginny argued, not wanting to admit that she did, in fact, want it. But she couldn’t allow herself to feed into the fantasy that this marriage was anything more than a mandatory arrangement. 

“Not anymore, it doesn’t.” She was sure that he was watching her for a reaction, but a changed inscription meant nothing. 

“That inscription proves nothing,” she said stubbornly. Couldn’t Harry see that a bit of faulty magic didn’t make her the owner of his family’s legacy? She didn’t want to take something that wasn’t hers! “I’m sure it’s just because I’m your wife. The ring’s magic clearly cannot tell the difference between a marriage and real feelings.”

Harry turned away from her, his jaw twitching with emotion. He slipped out of their blanket and paced the floor. 

Ginny was gagged, watching him walk around entirely naked. 

He didn’t seem to care, or even notice, that he was naked. His fists clenched at his sides as he turned back toward her, eyes blazing.

“You want to control everything, don’t you?” he accused. “First, you stride into a cave full of serpents, all alone, like some bloody swashbuckling hero. You never once stopped to think what would happen if—.” His voice broke, but he continued. “And now— did you ever stop to think what this would do to me?” 

Enraged, Ginny jumped out of the blanket as well, all thoughts of shame and decency forgotten. She wouldn’t sit here and take Harry’s accusations when she’d brought his ring back like she’d promised. 

“I had it handled, Harry. I promised that I’d get your precious ring back, and I did.” She felt her eyes cloud with tears. “I don’t know why you’re so angry with me.” 

Harry glared at her, as if he couldn’t believe that she’d just said that. 

“Because you could have died , Ginny,” he snapped. “And you very nearly did! If Amara hadn’t come to me when she did—.” 

“Well, I’m sorry you had to swoop in and rescue me.” She knew that she was being unfair and ungrateful, but she couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of her mouth. “Thank Merlin, I got your bloody ring back. Now you won’t have to bother about me!” 

He laughed—high-pitched and harsh. 

“You think I care more about that bloody ring than I do you?” When she didn’t respond, he huffed in disbelief. “You really think I would care about getting that ring back, even if it meant losing you?” 

“Then you’d be free to find the woman who truly deserves this ring, wouldn’t you?” Ginny pointed out, her voice breaking at the thought. She didn’t know why, but it hurt to think of him with another woman. To know that he would never love her the way he’d imagined loving someone else. And getting that ring as consolation just made it all the worse. 

Harry stepped closer, hovering over her, his voice dangerously low when he said, “You’re an idiot if you think that’s what I want.” 

Defiant, Ginny stuck out her chin and asked, “What do you want then?” 

Their breaths were sharp in the silence that followed, both of them standing too close, naked, fired up with pent-up emotions.

Ginny’s heart was racing.

“I want you to be safe .” 

She was ready to fight back— she was ! But the desperation and sincerity with which he said that disarmed her. She was jolted awake to reality, and she suddenly realised that they were standing naked in the middle of a room, hurling accusations at each other.

The cloud of anger faded, leaving only a palpable tension between them. 

“I—,” Ginny began, only to be interrupted by Harry’s lips on hers. 

He kissed her—hard, aching—like he needed her to breathe. 

She gasped into his mouth but didn’t pull away—her fingers clutching his hair, her body pressing against his with equal fire. He lifted her slightly, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, as he backed her against the nearest wall.

He pulled back, making her whimper at the loss of his lips. 

“ I want you .”

Chapter Text

“ I want you .” 

Harry should have said more and told her that whatever he felt went beyond physical need. The truth was, he was falling for her. He was a leaf caught in the wind, swept away in the hurricane that was Ginny Weasley. He should have told her he was happy about it. 

But he didn’t. He’d never been good with words, or maybe, a part of him feared that she didn’t feel the same. For her, the marriage may remain an obligation, a burden she couldn’t be rid of. He didn’t think that he could handle hearing those words from her, that though she was loyal to their bond, there was nothing more there. If he didn’t confess how he felt, he could at least go on pretending that she would eventually start to feel the same as him. 

So, he kissed her instead. With all that he had, he poured all his heightened emotions into a kiss. He kissed her so that he could forget how close he’d come to losing her. He kissed her so he could reassure himself that she was here and she was his. Even if only by legal obligation. 

The truth was, Harry needed her so badly that he’d take any scraps of affection she had to offer. 

As Ginny’s legs wrapped around him on instinct, Harry groaned in triumph. In all their cautious and gentle explorations, they’d never done this—pressing naked skin against skin. There was a feverish pace to their kissing now, as if neither of them could be bothered to take it slow. All thoughts of prudence seemed to have deserted them. 

Harry’s fingers dug possessively into the softness of Ginny’s thighs, and when he backed her further into the wall. The two of them disconnected their lips to hiss at the increased friction. Pressed close together, Harry touched every soft curve of her body against his hardened frame, threatening to drive him mad with need. 

“Gin,” he panted, somehow finding the strength to stop himself before he was too far gone. “Tell me to stop now, or I won’t be able to later.” 

Lips parted and eyes fluttering, Ginny watched him for a second or two before she heaved a deep breath and shook her head. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

It was everything he’d wanted to hear. 

“Are you sure? I don’t—”

“Harry,” Ginny firmly stated, her obvious impatience made him want to chuckle. “I want you too.” 

“You do?” he asked, unable to hold back the disbelief from his voice.

A corner of her mouth twitched up in amusement. She untangled one arm from behind his neck and brought up her hand to brush his unruly locks away from his face. “I thought that would have been obvious by now. Given how many times we have been… close to each other.” A rosy blush rose up her cheeks as she said that, making him wonder if she was also thinking about the times he’d touched her. 

Ginny cupped the side of his face tenderly. “Harry, I don’t want you to stop .” 

And that was all the permission he needed. He’d battled his desire for her since the first moment, dressed in her pirate attire, viciously attacking him every chance she got. Now, he could finally have her.

The blood in Harry’s body pumped faster, rushing to his painful arousal, which was lodged against his stomach, tortured by the feeling of Ginny’s pelvis pressing directly against it. Unable to stop himself, his hips thrust forward, grinding against her on purpose, her moan getting lost against his lips as he kissed her. 

Sliding one hand away from her thigh, Harry traced the swell of her hips, the arch of her waist. His hand came to settle against her warm breast, kneading urgently. Disconnecting from her lips, he dipped his head down to flick his tongue against her stiff, rosy nipple. Ginny mewled in response, arching further into his mouth. He rolled his tongue across her skin, sucking her nipple deeper into his mouth. 

Wanting to free his other hand, which was busy holding Ginny up, Harry slowly lowered her until her feet were planted on the floor. Due to the difference in their height, he bent down, never parting his lips from her breasts. Bringing his other hand into the mix, he cupped her other breast, tweaking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The way her breath hitched at the stimulation made him smile against her skin. 

“Harry…” Ginny whimpered, her nails scraping against his scalp. “ Please .” 

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded, pulling back to meet her eyes. 

“I want—” She faltered, biting back a moan as he placed his lips back against her skin. “I want— I need you.” 

Harry grinned. While he wanted nothing more than to forget about all restraint and plunge into her tight heat, he needed to go slow, for her sake. It was going to be Ginny’s first time, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He needed to make sure that she was ready. 

“Not yet, love,” he told her, pressing a gentle kiss against her lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Her brows knit together in hesitation. “Oh. Well, there isn’t any way around it, is there?” She shook her head with determination. “I can take a bit of pain.” 

He almost laughed again. Trust his brave wife to remain unbothered by the idea of pain. 

“I can definitely make it easier for you.” He nuzzled against her neck, letting his hands roam again, intent on arousing her as much as he possibly could. She moaned softly when he lightly stroked against her inner thigh. 

“H-how?” she asked, her voice quivering with need.

“By touching you,” he whispered against her cheek, brushing his fingers against her core. The heat he found there made him want to sink into her and never let go. 

“By kissing you,” he continued, slowly bending down once more to trail his lips across her skin, the slope of her neck, the valley between her breasts, and finally taking special care of the bruised skin on her ribs. He dropped to his knees in front of her. His stance was ready for worship. He let his palms rest against her hips, running his tongue along a pattern of freckles above her pelvic bone. 

Harry found Ginny’s eyes on him, watching him with both curiosity and confusion. While keeping his gaze on her, he brought his hand to caress her between her thighs. She sighed softly. 

Gently brushing past her patch of short ginger curls, Harry parted her folds. It sent a thrill up his spine to find her wet—he spread the slickness around and inhaled the sweet scent of her arousal. Using his other hand, he lifted her leg, draping her thigh over his shoulder, spreading her open for him. 

“Harry, what are you—ah—”

Ginny's voice was strangled. Harry ran his tongue along her folds, getting his first taste of her. He could feel her ragged breathing as he dipped his tongue into her sex to tease her. Determined to make her feel good before he sought his own pleasure, he plunged his tongue deeper into her wet walls. She swore under her breath, her hand flying to clutch his hair.

His heart was soaring. He’d been with other women, yes, but no woman had ever been Ginny. No woman could ever compare. She was brazen, righteous, passionate—everything he’d ever dreamed of, and more still. And he was getting to touch her, to taste her, in all the ways he’d imagined since marrying her!

Harry didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. 

Her low whimpers and sighs made him more aroused than he’d ever felt before. His cock strained for attention. But he continued his focus on pleasuring his wife. Swiping his tongue up, he circled her engorged clit. Ginny’s hips instinctively rocked against his face. He tightened his hold on her thigh, keeping her steady as he brought his other hand back to her core, easily slipping two fingers into her. 

His name slipped from between her lips, alerting Harry to the fact that she was fast approaching her peak. Maintaining a steady rhythm, he continued to pump his fingers into her while his tongue flicked against her nub.

Ginny cried out, her body shuddering with her release. Harry felt her walls clench around his fingers, and he groaned against her skin at the thought of sliding into her tight, wet, perfect core. He slowed down but continued to suck at her clit as she rode out her climax.

Harry pulled back, wanting to observe Ginny in the moment she lost control. Her mouth hung open, cheeks flushed beautifully, and breasts heaved with every breath. She met his eyes and blinked, tentatively reaching out to wipe at his mouth. Tipping his chin up, she bent down to kiss him, her tongue brushing against the salty taste on his lips. He groaned against her mouth, pulling her down to him. They tumbled to the hard floor together, attached at their lips. 

“Harry, your back!” Ginny complained, trying to get off him in alarm. 

He pulled her back against him. “I don’t care.” 

Brushing her hair out of her face, Harry kissed her again. 

By this time, he was so painfully hard that he wasn’t sure if he would even last more than a couple of thrusts inside her. Perhaps that was for the best. This was her first time, so maybe his embarrassingly short performance would be acceptable. Because he was sure that he would combust the moment he was inside her. 

Ginny straddled him. Her slick centre brushed against the head of his cock, making him groan with need. And to make matters worse, she sat up, tenderly reaching for him, wrapping her small hand around him. She stroked him slowly—it was pure torture. 

“Gin…” He grabbed her hand, stilling her movement. “Not like this.” 

“Oh,” she whispered, deliciously pink in her face. 

“Are you sure you still want to—?” 

“Yes, I think— I know that I’m ready.” 

Harry smiled, relieved. “Good. It would’ve been embarrassing to hear a grown man beg his own wife for intimacy,” he joked, making her smirk with mischief. 

“Perhaps I should make you beg for me.” 

“I’ll give you plenty of opportunities to make me beg, Gin,” he told her, cupping her breast and brushing his thumb against her peak. She gasped and rolled her hips against his erection. “ Fuck . You’re killing me.” 

The playfulness was quick to go away, and Ginny eyed his length with obvious nervousness. “Tell me what to do,” she whispered. She held her hands to her sides, unsure of how to proceed. 

“Let me take you to a bed. That way, you would not need to worry, and I can take care of everything, alright?”  

She shook her head. “No, I, erm— I’d like to remain here. Er, I’ve heard that I have more control this way.” 

Harry was tempted to tease her and ask after her sources, but chose to let it go. Instead, he smiled softly and nodded. “Whatever you want.” 

They kissed again. Harry raised himself on his elbow, drawing her close. What began slowly soon turned into a frenetic need to touch and stroke. Ginny rubbed against him while he slowly worked her open with his fingers once more. 

Putting his hands on her hips, he guided her towards his erection. He bit back a groan, running his tip along her slick folds. Just the promise of her heat made his heart thud faster in his chest. As the tip of his length pressed into her opening, Ginny whimpered and reached for his hand. 

Their fingers entangled, and Harry let her take control. She lowered herself at an agonising pace. Every single nerve ending in his body tingled in anticipation. He gritted his teeth to hold himself back from thrusting up into her. 

Ginny’s brow was furrowed with concentration, a bead of sweat forming on her temple. When Harry was halfway into her, he felt the resistance of her maidenhood.

“It will hurt,” he warned her, sitting up fully to hug her to him. 

She nodded and then lowered herself further. With a hoarse sob, she sank down in one swift push, his cock breaching through the barrier. Harry was unable to hold back his growl of pleasure, feeling her tight, wet core grip him, better than anything he’d ever had in his life. 

Ginny’s eyes watered, and she shivered in his arms. Harry brushed the hair away from her face and pressed a tender kiss against her cheek. 

“It will get better,” he promised. 

She met his eyes and kissed him, moving her hips just a smidge as she adjusted to the feeling of him. Every pore of Harry’s body was begging him to move, to fulfil every fantasy he’d built in his head, to seek his own relief, but he held back. He cared too much about Ginny. This was all for her. He was all for her. 

Once she adjusted, she began to move. Slow at first and then faster as she gained confidence. Even her gentle movements made his head spin. Harry felt her walls engulf him. He tangled one of his hands in her flaming hair, keeping his gaze on her. She met his eyes, unflinching, unabashed. This connection between them went beyond the physical, and he knew that she felt it too. 

Soon, Ginny’s noises turned from those of discomfort to passion. With every whimper and exhale, she moved faster, setting a frantic pace. She ground against him, seeking another release.

Harry was transfixed. Reaching out, he stroked her breast, grazing his thumb against the stiff peak. With one hand on her waist, he helped her move against him. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. “So perfect .” 

Ginny closed her eyes, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her movements became clumsy. Harry could tell she was close. He leaned forward to trail his tongue along the arch of her neck and whispered in her ear, “Let go, Gin.” 

When she did let go, it was a vision to behold. Beata Beatrix in the throes of divine paradiso ecstasy. He somehow crafted her into a masterpiece of divinity and yearning. 

Ginny gasped into his shoulder, her teeth marking his flesh as hers. Harry held her through her shuddering finish. He grunted, feeling her walls tighten and then flutter around his cock, his head falling into the crook of her neck. 

Even though he’d let her set the pace so far, he knew he was past the point of restraint. He was desperate for his own release. He needed to thrust into her and lose his way in the oblivion she promised. So, without waiting for permission, Harry tightened his grip around her and turned them around, lowering her to the floor, while still buried in her. 

“I need you,” he simply told her. She said nothing, rather granting permission by pulling him closer. 

Finally allowing himself to let go, Harry sank deep into her. He knew that he’d lost all control as he thrust hard and fast, again and again, but he was done being careful. He’d longed for her for too damn long to stop now. His hand sought her body, touching, squeezing, demanding . He relished the erotic sounds of their union, filling the empty room. 

Garbled phrases escaped his lips as he approached that cliff. When he finally tumbled over, Ginny gripped him tightly, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him until there was no space left between them. He shuddered, burying himself to the hilt, spilling deep inside of her. 

A few breaths later, Harry began to regain the strength in his limbs. He kissed Ginny and rolled off her. She whimpered at the space between as he pulled out of her. Scrambling for his wand, he waved it to clean them off. Then he threw it aside, freeing his hand to pull his wife close to his chest instead.

“Hello,” Ginny greeted him, still sounding breathless from their lovemaking. 

Harry grinned. “Hello.” 

They both shared a silly, awkward laugh. 

Ginny curled further into him, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. “I think I owe you an apology.” 

He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in response. “You do?” 

She blinked at him through red lashes. “Just this once, I will admit that it might have been a bit reckless of me to go off on my own.” 

“Might have been?” he echoed, smiling teasingly. 

She swatted him playfully. “Yes, might have been.” The humour in her eyes seemed to lessen. She propped herself up to stare right into his eyes. Wild hair, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks, she was a picture he longed to see every day. Her fingers traced a haphazard pattern on his chest. “I should have confided in you. I thought— I knew how important this ring was for you; how much it meant. I suppose I felt so grateful to you for doing all that you’ve done for me, for my cause, that I thought that it was worth putting my life in danger to retrieve it for you.” 

If words could wound, hers would have been a sharp thrust of a dagger to his heart. 

A lump rose in Harry’s throat. So it was true, she only rescued his ring because of her sense of gratitude. Any unspoken feelings he hoped that she had for him were entirely a figment of his imagination. Ginny was simply a practical woman. She could never abide being indebted to another person, even her husband. This was simply her way of paying her debt. 

Even though he’d just had her, the reality of the distance between the two of them felt vaster than the ocean’s tide between England and India. She was far from his. 

Pushing the painful realisation aside, he nodded stiffly. “You don’t owe me anything, Ginny. If I have helped you, it is only because I believe in you. I would have done the same for anyone else in a just and righteous position.” 

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he knew he would have crossed any line for Ginny—he wasn’t sure that he could say close to the same for any others. “I hope you will be able to trust me the next time you have a reckless plan that puts you in danger.” 

She gave him a strange look but then nodded. 

“Of course. I should have known that you’re the kind of man who would never let anyone put themselves in danger for you.” 

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. The air between them felt heavier, devoid of that heightened desire they’d felt moments ago. Harry cut through the tension, running the back of his hand against her cheek. Pressing a quick peck against her lips, he smiled. 

“We'd better get dressed,” he announced. “Before Amara catches us in the nude.” 

It was the perfect excuse he needed to distract from whatever unresolved friction now stood between them. Thankfully, Ginny played into his distraction, and they dressed in silence.

For now, Harry was determined to be content with what he had: Ginny’s friendship and the occasional intimacy. That would need to suffice. It was more than most men could hope to attain.

***

Amara brought with her breakfast, for which Ginny was grateful beyond words. She was ravenous, having gone without food since the previous evening. She tore a piece of the flatbread and scooped some potato curry on it, before pushing it into her mouth. 

Ginny sighed audibly. 

After taking two more bites, she noticed that Harry wasn’t eating. He was watching her with amazement. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, wondering if the food was perhaps too spicy for him. “Do you not like the food?” She lowered her voice so that Amara, who was looking through her teacher’s belongings in the other room, would not be able to overhear. 

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

“No, er, I don’t know how to eat. There’s no cutlery.” 

“Oh, of course. I should have warned you. Some local people do not use cutlery—they prefer to eat with their hands. It’s part of their culture.” She stuck her shoulder in the direction of where his wand was kept on the table. “Why don’t you conjure a spoon? That would make it easier for you to eat.” 

Throwing a quick glance towards Amara, Harry asked, “Would that be disrespectful? To use a spoon when the meal is meant to be eaten with your hands?” 

Ginny was unable to hold back a smile—trust Harry to want to be perfectly respectful. “Amara would understand. And she wouldn’t feel disrespected at all.” 

“Even so, can you teach me how to eat with my hands?” 

Touched that Harry wanted to learn more about the Indian culture, Ginny demonstrated for him. He fumbled but tried to follow her movements exactly. When he took his very first bite, he grinned with triumph, his green eyes sparkling in the morning light. 

“This is unlike anything I have ever tasted before,” he commented, taking another big bite. He chewed thoughtfully. “Is this really a potato?  It tastes nothing like the ones grown in England. It is like a symphony of flavours making my tongue tingle.” 

“Yes, that’s the spice. This is pretty mild, but Indians like their food to be quite spicy.” 

“I love it!” He smiled broadly at her. It warmed her heart to see him in this state. Turmeric-stained fingers with all his fumbling attempts to pick up mouthfuls with the torn roti. She wondered for a moment if his mouth tasted of cumin and curry before remembering herself and the company they kept with Amara.

By the time they Apparated back to the balcony in her room, the afternoon sun dipped towards the horizon. Ginny knew that her family would probably have noticed their absence, so she was thinking of an excuse they could offer when they stepped into their room. 

Only to find Ron lounging on her sofa chair as Hermione paced the room, her hair wild and worry stamped across her brow.  

“—told Bill from the beginning.” 

The words died on Hermione’s tongue when she saw them.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, relief flashing across her face. “We’ve been worried sick!”

Before Ginny could respond, Ron shot out of his chair, looking just as exasperated, arms folded across his chest. “Bloody hell, Harry. You never showed up for work. I thought you’d just slept in, but neither of you was even at home. You don’t know how many lies I’ve had to spin to keep you and Ginny out of trouble with Mum and Bill.” 

“We went for a hike.” 

“We were visiting a friend.” 

Harry and Ginny spoke together. When she realised their mistake, she had to hold herself back from biting her tongue. 

Hermione blinked, looking between the two of them.

Ron squinted suspiciously. “So… which is it?” 

Ginny’s lips parted, but Harry stepped in, too quickly. “No. I meant that we were visiting Ginny’s friend last night, and then the weather was nice, so we thought we’d take a hike in the hills.” 

But his lie would have convinced no one. 

Ron’s eyes narrowed further, and he looked confused. “You visited a friend at night and then went on a hike? In the middle of the night?” 

“It was a long hike?” Harry offered weakly. Merlin, he was a bloody Auror, how could he be such a terrible liar? 

“Alright then,” Ron said with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “Just say you needed a night off to get your end away or whatever else newly married couples get up to.”

Ginny gawked at him. “Ron!”

Ron just smirked. “Come on, Gin, we’re not daft. You disappear overnight, return looking like you’ve both wrestled a Hungarian Horntail, and now you’re tripping over unrehearsed alibis.” 

“We were not—” Ginny began hotly, but was cut off by Hermione.

“Honestly, it’s alright. We’re glad you're safe. Just let us know next time so we’re not worried that you’ve been captured by pirates, that’s all.” 

Harry’s ears had gone red, and Ginny could barely meet his eye, especially after the morning they’d had. 

“Well,” Ron huffed, turning to Harry. “We’ve got work to do. You’ve already missed half the day. There have been developments in the Red Fury case while you’ve been “ hiking” with your wife.” 

Before Ron dragged him away, Harry glanced at Ginny. They wordlessly agreed that whatever case developments had happened would be discussed at the next available opportunity. 

As their footsteps faded, Hermione turned her gaze back on Ginny, her head tilted as she did whenever she was puzzling out a mystery. 

“Do you have something you’d like to tell me?” 

“No, of course not.” Before Hermione could press her further, Ginny yawned exaggeratedly. “Well, I’m positively knackered. I was thinking of perhaps taking a nap before dinner. I’ll see you then?” 

Hermione looked like she wanted to stay and talk more, but decided against it and made her way out, leaving Ginny mercifully alone. She hadn’t lied; she was exhausted. She felt sore in unexpected places, but then, she’d never had sex before and didn’t know what to expect. 

Her cheeks felt warm when she thought of the morning. It was a scene she would replay in her mind again and again, hoping to remember every last detail. Before that day, she’d never imagined that a man could take her to such heights, could make her feel such bliss. 

But to her, Harry wasn’t just a man. She had never trusted a man like she trusted him. That was why she’d wanted to be with him. To surrender herself to him. Not because she craved just any touch, but because she craved his touch. 

Of course, for him, she was probably just another woman. The woman he was married to, a woman he couldn’t walk out on. His attraction to her was simply a result of a lack of choices, she knew that. But it didn’t hurt any less. 

He’d told her plainly. He would help anyone the way he was helping her for a righteous cause. Harry was simply a kind, upstanding, brave man who would rush to anyone’s rescue the way he’d rushed to hers. 

Ginny stared at her hand, twirling his mother’s ring on her finger. 

“You think I care more about that bloody ring than I do you?”

The desperation in his voice last night must have been imagined from the stress and tensions of the escape. He was just the kind of man who would value anyone’s life more than a trinket, no matter how much history or how precious. He was heroic like that, wasn’t he? And she respected and admired that about him. 

By the time Ginny lowered herself into the bath she’d prepared, one thought seemed to dominate her mind—even though she knew that Harry cared about everyone, why was it that she wanted him to care about her more? 

***

Harry was relieved to enter the Auror office. The sweltering heat and humidity in the Bombay air made his stiff robes cling to the back of his neck. Thankfully, the Auror office was kept cool and dry by sophisticated weather charms that allowed a decent flow of air. 

Ron led Harry to his small table, which was tucked into the corner of the room. Generally, the Bombay Auror office was sparsely populated, but there seemed to have been a sudden inflow of people. Pigeons—who were the Indian choice of carrier birds—were darting back and forth in the room, carrying messages, but also leaving the occasional foul droppings behind. 

Harry swerved out of the way of a pigeon and pulled a face. What was happening? The people in the office had somehow quadrupled overnight, and there was a palpable sense of urgency in the room.

Ron said nothing until they’d reached his table. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked as he eyed a cluster of tense-looking officers.

Nodding towards the wooden door that led to their briefing room, Ron explained, “The Colonial Enforcement Unit has arrived. The Ministry sent Albert Runcorn, the Head of the CEU unit in Delhi. The bloke has orders directly from someone called Umbridge, who is the head of the Office of Colonial Trade.” 

Harry stiffened at the name. So it was happening. Umbridge had begun interfering in the running of the Bombay offices. If this Runcorn fellow was working under Umbridge, he would become a hurdle in their path. 

“Their force is much larger than I would have guessed,” Ron continued. “I think they really mean to catch that filthy pirate this time, eh?” 

Harry cringed internally—if Ron only knew. 

The door to the briefing room swung open, and out stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in black Ministry robes. He had squared shoulders and a scroll in his hand. His eyes seemed to take a quick scan of the room until they landed on where Harry was standing with Ron.

“Weasley!” He barked, signalling to them. “Follow me. And bring your partner along, will you?” 

They followed the man into the briefing room. 

“You’re Potter,” Runcorn remarked, sneering at Harry. 

“Sir,” Harry bit out, reminded of his awful Potions teacher at Hogwarts, forming an instant dislike in his mind. 

“Glad to have another capable Auror in this godforsaken office.” Runcorn threw himself into his chair. Ron and Harry remained standing where they were. “Too many locals have been hired, if you ask me. Fine as a chai wallah but not suitable for proper Auror work.” 

Harry said nothing, but his fist tightened at his side. 

Ron seemed to be equally uncomfortable to hear his colleagues being insulted because he cleared his throat, “I brought Potter up to speed, sir.” 

“Right.” Runcorn unrolled a map of the western Indian coastline and tapped it with his wand. “As you must already be aware, there is significant Ministry cargo being moved in five days from now. The cargo will mainly be leaving from three main ports—Bombay, Karwar, and Mangalore.” He tapped the map with his wand, marking each location with a bright red scratch. “Now, the Red Fury could attack any one of these ports. But our intelligence believes that they are most likely to hit Karwar.” 

“What makes you suspect that?” Harry asked, remaining as nonchalant as possible. “Sir,” he added as an afterthought.

“It’s the one with the least defences. Easy for them to slip in and out.” He looked at Harry then, eyes narrowed as if assessing him. “We’ll station both of you at Karwar along with a unit of our best Hit Wizards.” 

“But, sir…” Ron spoke up. “We cannot leave Bombay undefended. Bombay is the port that the Fury targets the most often. Maybe she’s counting on us to divert all our resources to Karwar so that she can swoop in on Bombay instead.” 

“Weasley, are you saying that you don’t trust my instincts?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, sir.” Ron began. “I’ve been tracking this pirate for over a year now. And I don’t know why, but I feel that I know her, know how she thinks. And it would be a mistake if we let the Bombay port go without adequate protection. The Coastal Security is not enough.” 

Runcorn studied Ron for a second and then huffed loudly. “Alright, Weasley. You can take half the unit and be stationed at the Bombay port. Potter, you’ll take Karwar. And I will be stationed with some officers in Mangalore. It’s doubtful that they’ll venture that far, but I don’t want to take any chances this time.”

Ron stepped back, satisfied. 

“Just remember, I want the Red Fury captured. Under any circumstances. Alive and unharmed. Madam Umbridge has some plans for her,” Runcorn said with a menacing smirk on his face, which made a chill run down Harry’s spine. “For the rest of her crew, I have given orders to execute on sight.”

“Sir!” Ron gasped. “Isn’t execution a bit…?” 

“They’re Indian scum who steal from the Ministry, Weasley. They don’t deserve any less than death.” 

Harry had to work hard to keep himself from showing a flicker of emotion—he could not jeopardise Ginny’s mission because he couldn’t school his features. Ron’s ears turned bright red, showing a tell-tale sign that he was just as angered by what Runcorn was proposing. 

“They’re rebels, sir,” Ron said, voice tight. “Thieves, sure. But execution without trial? That’s not the way we do things.”

Runcorn snorted. “That may be the way you were taught to do things, Weasley, but this is colonial territory. Our laws don’t apply the same way here. We should remind them of the chain of command before things spiral further. This Fury woman has made a fool of us long enough.”

Harry’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard, managing to ask, “Do we have permission to use lethal force at our discretion, or are you issuing orders for immediate execution regardless of the threat level?”

“I’m saying,” Runcorn said, leaning forward, “capture the Red Fury alive. But I don’t want anyone else making it back. It’s not worth the paperwork.” 

Harry gave a curt nod. “Understood.” It felt like acid on his tongue.

Runcorn stood, signalling the end of the meeting. 

“I don’t want any mistakes,” he warned them and then gestured for them to leave. 

Ron shot Harry a loaded look as they exited the briefing room together. Once the door shut behind them, Harry exhaled, processing everything he’d heard. It was difficult for him to comprehend how news of such rampant oppression and corruption hadn’t made its way back to England. 

“Can you believe this?” Ron hissed under his breath as they walked back. “It’s not right—executing people on sight.” 

“No,” Harry responded, his jaw clenched. 

“This could start a war with the Indian community.” Ron’s voice was grim.

But Harry wasn’t listening. His mind was occupied entirely with a rising fear for Ginny and her crew. While they had the advantage of having him as a spy, information might not be enough for them to come out of this heist unscathed. 

He needed to warn them of the impending danger, but he had started to wonder if that was going to be enough. 

***

The sky was the colour of soot. Ginny stood on the deck of the Kaalratri , leaning on the wooden rail of their ship. A gust of sea wind stirred her hair, loosening a few strands from the braid she’d knotted. Behind her, she heard the flutter of the sails. The symbol of her crew—a snake being pierced by a trident—was adorned on the sails, warning their enemies off. 

The ship bobbed silently in the waters off the port of Karwar, lying in wait for the right moment to strike. 

Now that the day of reckoning had come, Ginny felt uneasy. She kept twirling her ring on her finger, drawing whatever strength she could from it. Her eyes swept across the horizon. A line of distant lanterns marked the edge of the port. British vessels were beginning to stir. 

Somewhere out there, Harry lay in wait. 

She felt footsteps approach. 

Parvati was beside her, silently handing over a flask. “For the nerves,” she said. Ginny nodded and took the flask. She drank deeply and then gagged. 

“Firewhiskey?” Ginny asked, handing back the flask. “I thought you might have made a potion or something?” 

Parvati smiled. “Why fix something that isn’t broken?” 

They shared a soft chuckle. 

“Any word from Amara?” Ginny asked. 

Raj appeared from below deck, adjusting his enchanted spyglass around his neck, which would allow him to see through their fog. “They’re in position. Waiting for the ships to move.” 

Ginny nodded, her jaw tightening as she saw the outlines of a few ships begin to move. 

“It’s starting,” she whispered. Turning to Parvati, she said, “Let’s unleash the fog.” 

A thick fog began to settle over the waves. This would be their first line of defence—blinding the enemy to their movements. 

Ginny let her fingers clutch the hilt of the dagger at her waist. It had once belonged to her teacher. She rarely ever used it, but she had chosen to carry it today. Not just as a weapon, but as a reminder of what she was fighting for. 

She turned to her crew—Parvati, Raj, and Arjun. 

“I don’t have any speech for you, no rousing words. Each one of you has more than enough reasons to fight. So let’s show these colonisers what it means to cross a people who don’t forgive or forget.” 

At her signal, the Kaalratri began to move. 

***

Harry stood on the wooden pier, watching the two trade ships slip off silently into the unusually calm waters of the Arabian Sea. Their sails caught the wind, helping them gain momentum. 

He narrowed his eyes—something was off. 

Behind the trade ships, a third vessel stirred. Trimmed with dark wooden beams, the ship was carrying the silver insignia of the Colonial Enforcement Unit. It was a war vessel, Harry realised. An escort ship!

His stomach dropped. 

“That wasn’t in the plan,” he muttered to himself.

Around him, his unit of Aurors was just as confused. As the escort ship took its position next to the pier, a burly CEU officer marched up to them. “Runcorn didn’t mention an escort ship,” Harry said to the officer.

“New orders came down half an hour ago,” the man responded, not bothering to explain further. He began to order the rest of his unit on board, but Harry remained rooted to his spot. 

“We were supposed to stay here and defend the port,” Harry argued, trying to keep his voice as calm and stable as possible. 

“Runcorn wants the CEU to ensure that the ships are protected even in the open waters. The escort ship’s joining the convoy until they’re well beyond the Indian waters.” The officer shoved his wand towards the gangway. “You’re boarding with the rest, Potter. Orders from Command.” 

Harry wanted to point out that he didn’t take orders from the CEU, but chose not to argue. If there was an escort ship being sent to intercept the pirates, then he needed to be on the ship at all costs. 

He looked back toward the sea. The fog was gathering in the distance, slow and creeping, too uniform to be natural.

Ginny’s fog. 

It had begun. 

The knot in his chest tightened further, cold fear gripping him. If Ginny’s crew struck now, with the escort ship in tow, they would be sailing into a trap. And he had no way to warn them!

Harry boarded the ship—a crew of sailors ran back and forth, readying cannons, carrying flasks of flammable potions. This was no bluff. Runcorn meant to wipe out the pirates for good. 

As the ship pushed off into the waves, he curled his fist around his wand. He leaned against the rail, scanning the grey horizon. He couldn’t see her, but he knew that she was out there. 

Please, Ginny. Please be safe. I can’t lose you. 

The fog rolled closer, and the escort ship sailed into it. 

As they were enshrouded in the dark fog, Harry raised his wand, ready to do whatever it took to protect the woman he loved.

Chapter Text

The air was thick with their grey, manufactured fog. But thanks to the enchantments that Parvati had mixed into the potion, Ginny was able to see the Ministry trade ship plainly in front of her. They were closing in quickly. There was no sound, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the ship’s hull. 

As the Kaalratri soundlessly pulled in alongside the Ministry ship, Ginny readied her borrowed wand—she’d pinched her father’s wand that her mother kept stowed in her wardrobe as a memento. While she appreciated that she was using a wand her father had once used to fight against Lord Voldemort, Ginny missed the reliable strength of her own wand. It was far from convenient not to have the wand most suited to her at a time when she was facing the largest heist her crew had ever pulled off. 

There was a muffled groan as their vessel rubbed against the side of the Ministry ship. Ginny moved, signalling to her crew behind her, their boots muffled by charms. She hauled herself by the rail and jumped over to the deck of the other ship. The rest of her crew followed close behind. 

The British vessel had only a few sailors on board, making little movements, disoriented by the fog. Ginny nodded, allowing her crew to split up behind her and take their positions. 

Room by room, Ginny and her crew snuck behind the sailors and took them down— Stupefy , Incarcerous , Petrificus Totalus , but never anything lethal—that was the rule. Parvati doubled back and checked every man, binding their limbs, silencing their mouths, and erasing their memories. She placed them all in the lower corridor to keep them out of the way. 

A feeling of foreboding shot up Ginny’s spine as she looked around. 

“There aren’t enough,” she whispered to Arjun. 

“What aren’t enough?” 

“There aren’t enough men on this ship. Harry said that the CEU expects us to attack. Then why would they leave this ship without any additional security measures?” 

Arjun frowned. “Let’s not overthink it. Let’s get what we came here for and leave.”

“I found the key,” Raj announced and held up the key to the cargo hold.

Narrowing her eyes, Ginny scanned the horizon. When she saw nothing, she ignored the churning of her stomach and followed her crew down the steps to the hold. 

When they unlocked the creaky wooden door, what they saw made them gasp in unison. This was the biggest cargo hold they’d ever seen. Extended by magic, the wooden room held hundreds of crates, each labelled with unique potion ingredients. From Yaksha bones to Garuda feathers, there seemed to be no dearth of rare and valuable elements stolen from Indian businesses. 

“They’ve taken everything…” Parvati echoed what everyone was thinking. 

“We don’t have time,” Ginny reminded them. “Load it up.” 

They began to float the crates out of the hold. But even with the four of them, it was taking too long. 

“This is not going to work,” Ginny hissed in frustration. 

That sinister warning gnawed at the back of her mind. She climbed out of the hold and halted her team. 

“We need to take the ship.” 

“Take the ship?” Raj repeated. “Have you lost your mind? What if they trace it back to us?” 

“We’ll empty it and then destroy it.” 

“And if they are able to trace it before we can destroy it?”

“We have to take the chance,” Ginny pressed. “We can’t leave all this cargo, and it’s taking too long to move it like this. We wouldn’t even get to the second ship at this rate!” 

“Ginny—” Arjun began, stepping between her and Raj, who was seething with anger. 

The blare of a warship cut through the air. They turned around, watching a CEU war vessel appear in the distance, gaining on them. 

Ginny swore under her breath. She turned to her crew. 

“We need to get ready to leave. Now .” 

“And the cargo?” Arjun asked. 

“Leave the rest of it,” she barked, levitating the rest of the crates onto the Kaalratri . “Parvati, aim the Ministry cannons at their ship. Save our steel for now. We could take them if we use both ships to attack!” 

Parvati nodded and flicked her wands to get the cannons into position. 

Raj was at Ginny’s side, gripping her arm with force, his eyes blazing with fury. “Why didn’t your husband warn us about this?” 

She threw him a look of disbelief. They didn’t have the time to discuss the why-nots. “I don’t know,” she snapped. “Let go of me, Raj.” 

“If we get caught, you’ll be fine, won’t you?” Instead of letting go, he tightened his grip on her. “You’re English,” he spat out with barely hidden contempt. “Is this all an elaborate plan to get us all captured, while you and your husband get to ride off into the English sun?” 

Ginny pushed him away with her other hand, making him stumble back. Arjun, who had been summoning the explosive potions from their ship, paused to look at what was passing between them. 

“Have you lost your bloody mind?” Ginny asked. “If you hadn’t noticed, I am the Red Fury. You think the Ministry would let me walk away?” 

“You will lie,” Raj was refusing to back down. Ginny knew that he hadn’t ever liked her, but now that she was married to an Auror, his mistrust seemed to have deepened even further. “Who will they believe? You, or a bunch of lowly Indians?” 

“Raj, back off,” Arjun warned. 

“This is ridiculous,” Ginny seethed. “The CEU is coming. And unless you want to be caught, we need to fight back!” 

“How can we trust her?!” Raj appealed to Arjun. 

Arjun shook his head firmly, responding, “She’s our Captain. She’s led us this far. She will not betray us.” 

Raj’s laughter was sharp. “Well, maybe your husband’s betrayed you.” He turned to Ginny. “Maybe this is his way of catching you in the act and being done with you after having some wild fun.” 

Ginny’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She wanted to defend Harry, but as her eyes darted back to the ship that was chasing them down through the fog, a flicker of doubt formed in the pit of her stomach. 

No, he wouldn’t, a stubborn part of her heart argued. The part that felt safe with Harry, the part that trusted him implicitly. 

And yet, even Arjun was silent, perhaps thinking the same thing. 

Ginny swallowed thickly. 

“We don’t have the time for this,” Arjun said with finality, ending the conversation for them. He pushed Raj towards their ship. “Get the cannons ready, Raj. We need to fight back if we want to save the cargo.” 

Raj shot Ginny one last look of disdain before he jumped towards the Kaalratri . 

As they readied themselves for a fight, Ginny took her position at the helm, pulling up her hood to hide her face. The ship was closing in on them, but her mind was clouded with the nagging fear that Harry was out there on that CEU vessel. 

If he was, then she was about to attack him. She knew that she had no choice. If she didn’t fight back now, her crew would be compromised. 

It was an impossible choice, bubbling in her stomach like acid. 

But before she knew it, Arjun and Parvati fired the cannons—her choices made. Amongst the explosions around her, Ginny could somehow still hear her heart beating in her chest, ripe with fear for the safety of her husband. 

***

“Ready the cannons! All hands to arms!” 

The CEU officer called Archer bellowed orders as another blast sounded from somewhere off port. The blasts were getting closer. None of their hits had landed so far, but from the amplifying roar of every fire, Harry could tell that the CEU ship was gaining on the pirates. 

“Fire the cannons where?” One of the Aurors in their crew protested. “We can’t see a bloody thing in this fog!” 

Archer snapped back. “We don’t have visuals, but the blasts of the cannon confirm proximity.” The officer grabbed the Auror’s collar roughly. “Now aim the bloody cannons to the left and fire at the fucking pirates!” 

“Wait!” Harry tried to interject, but his voice was drowned out by another explosion. 

Damn it, Ginny…

He gripped the rail, his knuckles white. Somewhere out there, her ship was firing. She was firing. And if she was at the helm, then she was directly in their line of fire.

The cannons boomed again—this time from both sides.

“Potter, move! With me!” barked Archer, already marching toward the lower deck. “They’ve got more firepower than we expected. Reinforce the wards and return fire—NOW.”

Harry rushed after Archer, trying to stop him from screaming more orders to fire. If they kept firing blindly, there was no telling how much damage they would end up doing. Stray, tormenting images of Ginny’s ship being blown to bits began to surface in his mind, and he picked up his pace. 

“STOP!” He grabbed Archer by his arm, turning him around. 

“Potter! What are you—?” 

The next blast shook the ship. Harry steadied himself and his companion. As they peered over the hull, they saw that one of the round shots had hit the side of the ship. Before any of them had a chance to recover, another blast rocked the vessel. Splinters flew through the air as a section of the railing cracked inward.

The veil of the fog had begun to thin in places, and Harry squinted at the sea. The other ship was just barely visible now—except it wasn’t one ship, it was two! And one of them bore the Ministry insignia on its hull. 

“Merlin’s balls…” Archer murmured, eyes narrowing at the haze.

Harry’s heart hammered. “They’re using our ship to fire at us!” 

“What?” Archer demanded.

“The cannon fire we’ve been tracking—it’s Ministry ammunition. That’s not pirate steel. You’re firing at your own bloody trade ship!”

The man looked between Harry and the hazy outline of the ships through the fog. He remained unconvinced. 

“Check the ammunition marks if you don’t believe me!” Harry barked. “They’re firing regulation shells.” 

Archer swore loudly, accepting what Harry was telling him. 

“Hold your fire! Cease fire, dammit!” He snapped his fingers at the crew. The Bombay office Aurors were quick to cease the firing. The CEU officers, on the other hand, were confused by the orders. Halfway through reloads, some of them murmured, stunned by the command. 

“Pull back! Take your positions near the stern.” Archer turned to Harry, his jaw clenched, but his eyes calculating now. “We board. If they’ve taken the trade ship, then we reclaim it the old-fashioned way.”

Harry’s breath faltered. Boarding meant close combat. And if Ginny was still on that ship, she could risk exposure or capture, perhaps both. 

While he’d stopped the CEU from firing at her ship, he had yet another problem to resolve. 

Harry knew that he could not protest Archer’s plan, at least not without calling attention to himself. This is exactly what he would have done in this situation. 

“All Aurors to boarding formation! We approach under concealment. No more attacks until we board.” 

The crew was quick to follow the orders. Harry positioned himself at the front—if they were boarding the ship, then he wanted to be the first person on it. That way, he could at least have an advantage to perhaps help Ginny and her crew escape. 

For some time, his choice had been made, ever since he’d gotten to truly know Ginny. He knew he would sacrifice everything to protect her—he only prayed it would be enough.

***

The CEU vessel had stopped firing, but Ginny knew it was not a good sign. She could see that the fog was thinning out in places, which meant that the Ministry had figured out that they were firing at their own trade vessel. 

As she saw their ship moving faster, looming larger on the horizon, her worst fears were confirmed—they would chase them down and board the trade ship. 

Scrambling back towards her crew, Ginny exclaimed, “They’re gaining speed and chasing us down. They’ll want to board the ship and arrest us.” 

“What do we do?” Parvati halted her wand in the midst of reloading the cannons. 

“Keep firing at them,” Ginny told her. “Raj, you too. Aim for the front to slow them down.” She turned to Arjun. “You and I will load as many crates onto the Kaalratri as possible and keep it ready to flee.” 

The humid air made her cloak cling to her, making her short of breath, but Ginny dashed across the deck to help Arjun. Together, they carried about a dozen more crates back towards their ship. 

“Captain!” Parvati called out, pointing at the Ministry ship, which had suddenly changed its course. It was now tilting towards the Kaalratri . An explosion rang through the air, and she saw a shot hit the side of their ship’s rails—splinters of wood flew in every direction. 

Her heart dropped. 

“They’ve adjusted!” she shouted. “They’re targeting the Kaalratri directly—get off the trade ship, now! Back to our ship!”

Arjun’s eyes widened in fear, but he sprang into action. “Fall back,” he cried, taking the last of his crate back to the ship. He pulled Parvati along and helped her leap back into the pirate ship. 

Ginny levitated another crate with a flick of her wand, sending it flying towards the Kaalratri . Raj, however, stood frozen on the edge of the hold, his face drawn with fury as he watched the remaining cargo still locked within.

“There are hundreds of these still here,” Raj argued. “We can’t leave this all behind. If we do, then all that we have done would have been for nothing.” 

Ginny went to his side. “We will not risk the crew for cargo, Raj. We will live to see another day, and we will find another way to make a dent in the Ministry’s fortune. But if we get caught today, then it will truly have been all for nothing.” 

Jaw twitching, Raj glared at the cargo hold for a few seconds, his conflict plainly visible in his eyes. Ginny gripped his arm, imploring him to move. 

“We don’t have a choice, Raj. We’re out of time—we need to leave. Now .” 

“Well, if we can’t take it…” 

Before Ginny could realise what he was doing, Raj raised his wand and screamed, “ Incendio !” 

Ginny screamed and knocked the wand out of his hand, but it was too late. Flames erupted, catching the nearest crates instantly. The fire roared as it spread with horrifying speed—magical herbs and flammable potion ingredients fed the blaze like dry tinder.

There was a small explosion, knocking Ginny back against the stairs. The air was sucked out of her lungs as she struggled to find any clean air to breathe. Smoke from the fire engulfed her, blinding and choking her. She clawed her way up the stairs. Her wand gripped in one hand. 

“ Aguamenti ,” she wheezed, trying to slow the flames down. The fire had spread too wide, and the most she was able to do was slow it down. Managing to make it up the stairs, she breathed the clean air on top of the deck, but saw that the insides of the ship were quickly catching fire in all directions. 

Arjun was there, eyeing the flames with fear.

“Oh, Ganesha! What have you done?” 

“What our Captain didn’t have the courage to do,” Raj spat out, climbing out of the hold only a few steps behind Ginny. 

“You’ve gone completely off the rails, haven’t you?” Arjun demanded, his brow furrowing with anger. He grabbed Raj’s collar and shook him. Ginny froze where she stood, alarmed to see the calm and level-headed Arjun pushed to the edge of his temper. “You’re going to be the death of all of us. You idiot!” 

Raj had the gall to smile with mirth. “No, only the British scum on this ship.” 

Ginny’s eyes widened, and she whispered, “The sailors!” 

“Get off this damn ship before you cause any more trouble,” Arjun warned. The simmering rage in his words was enough to wipe the smug smile off Raj’s face as he stumbled back towards the Kaalratri . 

“We have to protect the crew,” Ginny beseeched Arjun, who was already springing into action. 

“I will summon the lifeboat from our ship.”

Ginny turned and sprinted back toward the lower corridor, where they’d left the stunned crew tied and silenced. The smoke had begun to cloud this part of the ship. The flames were already racing along the beams, licking the walls and crawling toward the unconscious guards.

Choking due to the smoke, Ginny barely managed to whisper enough water charms to momentarily slow down the fire. It bought her enough time to levitate a few of the men back towards the open deck.

But her charms were not enough, and the flames were spreading closer. She was going to run out of time. She could feel the heat enveloping them. Her eyes watered, her lungs burned, but she fought against it.

As she levitated the last man out of his corner, she felt the wooden floor beneath her boots crack. With barely enough time left, she leapt as high as she could, watching the floor collapse into the hold. She rolled away just in time, her back colliding with a wall—she screamed as she felt her skin blister at the contact. 

She scrambled, somehow managing to crawl her way back onto the deck with the last of the ship’s crew.

Arjun’s voice rang from ahead. “Captain, get out! They’re boarding the ship!” 

They secured the crew into the lifeboat just as Ministry boots hit the floorboards of the burning ship. 

“Captain—go!” Arjun yelled, blocking one officer with a blasting spell. “I’ll hold them off.” 

The fog had all but cleared. Ginny saw the white and silver uniforms of the CEU as they spilt onto the deck like a swarm. She hurled a Stunning spell towards them, flinging one Auror off the ship into the sea. 

“Arjun, fall back!” 

She reached him and crouched beside him behind the lifeboat, which held the unconscious crew of the trade ship. “The ship has just a few minutes of life left. The floorboards have already begun to crack. We need to leave, now.” 

Arjun nodded grimly. 

He wiped the sweat off his brow and said, “I’ll stay back and you lower the lifeboat and escape to the Kaalratri , alright?” 

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not letting you stay back. You will take the lifeboat and leave this ship this instant.” 

“Please—” 

“I’m your Captain,” she snapped, her voice hoarse from smoke and fury. “You follow my orders. Get in the lifeboat, Arjun!”

But Arjun didn’t move. The ship groaned beneath them, a terrifying reminder that its structure was minutes away from giving out.

“Then I’m mutinying,” he said defiantly. “Because if you think I’m going to leave you here to burn or be caught—”

A burst of light interrupted them, whizzing past them, barely missing its target. 

An Auror appeared from the smoke, his wand trained towards them. Before he could get another spell out, another beam of red light hit him in the side, throwing him sideways into the mast. 

Harry emerged from the smoke. His robes were scorched, and his face was smeared with soot and smoke. His messy hair clung to his face with sweat, and there was a smooth, clean crack running through the lens of his spectacles.

The sound that escaped Ginny’s lips could only be described as something that was halfway between a laugh and a cry. 

“Ginny!” Harry’s voice broke when their eyes met. “You need to leave now. More of the CEU is boarding now. And they won’t leave until they capture you.” 

But Ginny was already shaking her head. “I’m not leaving you here on your own aboard a literal sinking ship.” 

“Ginny, for once in your life, can you do what I’m telling you?” 

“If you wanted an obedient wife, Harry, you should have married someone else.” 

The two of them stood there, firm in their position, neither of them willing to back down. It was only when Arjun cleared his throat pointedly that the tension between them broke. 

“This ship will collapse in minutes. I cannot protect you from the entire CEU, Gin,” Harry insisted. “Get on the lifeboat and go back to your ship. I need to stay back to slow them down; otherwise, your crew will never make it.” 

Ginny ignored his plea and turned to Arjun. 

“You heard him. Get on the lifeboat and get back to the Kaalratri . Get off these waters and lay low. Harry and I will slow the Ministry down.” 

Fingers dug into her arm, making her wince. Harry turned her around and insisted fiercely, “I am not letting you put your life in danger again.” 

“That’s not your decision to make,” Ginny asserted. She turned away from Harry once more. “Arjun, take the ship and hide it well. Protect the crew.” 

Glancing apologetically towards Harry, Arjun nodded grimly. He climbed into the lifeboat, and Ginny helped him lower it into the waves. She felt Harry hovering behind her, rigid and uneasy. She pressed her lips together and gave Arjun one last look before he sailed the boat away from the trade ship to put the crew a safe distance away. Then, he Apparated on board the Kaalratri to sail their ship away. 

“Let’s do this,” Ginny finally said. When she turned, she found that Harry was examining her.

“You can still get away,” he said desperately.

She shook her head. “Would you have left me?” 

The hesitation painted plainly across his features answered her question. 

“I can’t let you take the fall for crimes that you had no part in. You can walk away from this, Harry,” she told him. Her lip trembling with emotion, she huffed softly. “If you arrest me now, you can put all this ugliness behind you. Go back to England to live a real life.” 

Chuckling softly and taking her hand in his, Harry squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “I gave up that choice the day I married you. If you choose to go down today, then I'll go down with you, too.” 

Ginny met his eyes, and the fierce loyalty she saw in them was enough to make her want to fall apart in his arms. 

A dozen CEU boots pounded across the scorched deck. Wands were raised. Orders shouted.

“Potter, what are you doing? Arrest her now!” There was a CEU commander at the helm of the group, pointing his wand towards Ginny through the smoke. Harry stepped forward, angling his body to shield her from their line of fire. 

The commander’s eyes widened. 

“Take him out,” he barked orders to his officers. 

Five spells burst towards them—Harry was able to dodge two, but in a bid to protect Ginny, one Stunning spell hit him square in the chest, knocking him out. 

“Expelliarmus!” Ginny’s wand flew from her hand.

Another curse followed—ropes wrapped tight around her arms, dragging her to her knees. CEU officers closed in around them. 

The commander sneered over her in triumph. He’d caught the infamous Red Fury and staked a claim to all the glory that came with it. 

From the corner of her eye, Ginny saw the unconscious figure of Harry being dragged by the officers back towards the Ministry warship. She groaned as she was yanked to her feet, forced to follow behind. 

Heart pounding, Ginny took one last look at Harry before she was taken into the ship’s hold as the Ministry’s prisoner. 

***

When Harry regained consciousness, he felt the dampness of the cold stone floor against his cheek.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking into the darkness of a stone ceiling mottled with grime and green moss. The air was thick with salt, mold, and the metallic tang of blood. Through a small shaft, he could smell the ocean and hear the crash of waves right outside. 

His hands were bound, but loosely. He untangled his hands and freed them, sitting up slowly, his head pounding. 

He didn’t bother looking for his wand—he knew it was gone by now. 

The cell around him was small, cut from rough stone, with only a rusted iron grate for a door. A single torch flickered faintly in the corridor beyond, casting long, jittery shadows across the floor. He saw that there was an identical space next to his cell. 

“Ginny?” he rasped, voice dry and raw.

No answer.

“Ginny!” he called louder, dragging himself to the bars, peering into the dark space. His heart pounded. The space was empty. Silent. 

He gripped the bars, pressing his forehead against the cold iron—his stomach squeezed with fear. He should have forced Ginny to leave when he’d had the chance. She’d been so intent on remaining by his side, wanting to own up to the fight to give her crew a chance to escape. He wondered if there was anything he could have said that would have made her leave him. 

Knowing her, there probably wasn’t. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots against the stone floor. He straightened up, walking over to the iron door, gripping the bars. But as the footsteps drew closer, he knew that it couldn’t have been Ginny. They were much heavier, far less graceful. 

Harry’s jaw clenched before the figure even came into view.

Albert Runcorn. 

Dressed in his dark robes, Runcorn sneered at him in the firelight. 

“Well, well, well, the traitor awakens.” 

“Where is she?” Harry demanded. 

Runcorn ignored the question. “Quite a scandal, Potter. Sirius Black’s golden boy, the Minister’s favoured, heir to the Potter fortune, married to pirate scum .” He chuckled, satisfied. “Can’t you imagine the headlines back home? What would your widowed mother think?” 

Harry’s fists curled. 

“ Where is she ?” 

“You reeked of insubordination the day I met you, but even I would never have guessed that you were literally in bed with the enemy.” Baring his teeth, he smiled at Harry. “Tell me, Potter, is your pirate wife wild in bed? Is that why you married her?” 

“WHERE IS SHE?” Harry lunged at Runcorn through the bars, grasping for his robes. But he managed to jump back, momentarily winded by the surprising attack. 

He straightened and schooled his features back into a smug grin. 

“Alive—for now.” 

“If you touch her—” 

“Then you’ll continue to rot in prison, Potter. We’re in the Black Water prison. Built to imprison the worst of the worst. There’s no escape from here.” 

“We’re English citizens and prisoners of the British Ministry. We must be tried in England, in front of the Wizengamot,” Harry snapped, seething with anger. 

Runcorn’s laughter rang through the empty corridor. 

“You’re not prisoners of the Ministry, you fool. You’ve committed crimes against the colonial government. There are no trials here.” 

Harry stared at him, chest heaving.

“No trials?” he echoed. “You can’t do that. Even you can’t disappear people without oversight.”

Runcorn stepped closer, his voice bursting with unmasked glee. 

“You’re in India , Potter. Out here, things are handled differently. No due process, no Wizengamot. No godfather around to save you. There’s only the colonial law and the people appointed to enforce it.” He smiled wider. “And you’ll be pleased to know that your dear wife is already in the hands of someone very experienced in such... proceedings.”

“Where is she?” Despite himself, Harry’s voice cracked—the fear he now felt for Ginny’s safety was too immense to hide. 

“She’s exactly where she belongs. In the lower cells, where she’s being questioned. Thoroughly.” Runcorn licked his lips, as if he was savouring Harry’s pain. “ Madam Umbridge arrived last night.”

A chill shot down Harry’s spine.

“No,” he breathed.

“Oh yes,” Runcorn said with delight. “She volunteered for this assignment. Said she had a special interest in the Red Fury.” 

Harry stepped back from the bars, like he’d been hit. His hands trembled at his sides.

“She won’t talk,” he said after a long moment. “You can torture her, threaten her, hex her senseless—she won’t give you what you want.”

Runcorn tilted his head. “Oh, she’s already talking, Potter. Owning up to every single crime. She is tight-lipped about her crew for now, but we have ways to loosen up her tongue.”

He turned to leave but paused. He clicked his tongue, tapping his palm against his forehead, as if he’d made a silly mistake. 

“Almost forgot to tell you,” he said, sounding exaggeratedly light and airy. “We have another warrant out. For one Ronald Weasley. It seems like he was purposefully leading the Ministry astray by colluding with his pirate sister. All this time, we thought that Red Fury was simply difficult to catch. Turns out, it was her lowlife brother playing the Lead Auror on her case.” 

Harry’s fists clenched around the iron bars. 

“Ron had nothing to do with this!” 

“That’s not what our records will say.” Runcorn’s playful smile disappeared, and he dropped his act. “We will find Ron Weasley and bring him right back here. To enjoy the same treatment as you and your wife. And when we’re through with you, we will drown you so deep in the Indian Ocean that your families will not even know what became of the three of you.” 

He straightened, dusting off his sleeves.

“Sleep well, Potter. I suspect Madam Umbridge will want to see you soon. Maybe if you’re lucky, she’ll let you say goodbye to your dear wife.” 

“You’ll regret this,” he muttered.

Runcorn only laughed as he disappeared into the gloom.

Harry was left standing alone in the flickering light, his insides churning with rage, fear, and helplessness. Ginny was here somewhere, with Umbridge.

And no one was coming to save them.