Daoimear de Dán: Inné agus Inniu

Chapter Three - Drinking Your Fill

Katerina had to go to almost ludicrous lengths to procure the ingredients for her potion and still avoid detection. She got the train down to Devon to visit a herbalist who specialised in rare remedies from rare local plants. She went to Edinburgh to find a rare thistle. She went to Jersey during a full moon to get hair from the manes of a particular family of Mooncalves. She bought basic ingredients from Diagon Alley after sneaking back in there again. Finally, she was able to start brewing.

The potion she'd settled on took three days to boil and ferment. It made such a stink on the first day that her landlord came up to complain and warn her about her deposit. On the second day it smelled like lavender, and on the third day it was odourless. She now needed to leave it to sit for one more day before she could- finally!- begin administering it. This would take a great deal of cunning on her part to ensure that only the right people received it and in small, regular doses to make the potion work in a nice, subtle manner. Then all she needed to do was sit back and wait for the fireworks to begin and she could work without real risk of detection or interruption- if the Diamond was fighting itself, it could not fight her as well.

She found things that they- and only they- ate or drank. For Ron Weasley it was Fizzing Whizzbees. His wife refused to eat them because they contained dried Billywig stings and nobody else seemed to particularly care for them.

Harry Potter drank Sprite, which Katerina found easy to procure from Muggle supermarkets across the country and get to him as part of his usual delivery. She discovered that Hermione thought it to be too sugary to drink herself and also wouldn't let her son drink it, leaving Harry the only person in the household who did (against Hermione's wishes, it seemed).

Hermione drank a particular brand of mint hot chocolate she bought from Madam Sinta's Coffee Bean Emporium. It had all the warmth and taste of normal hot chocolate but also contained an energising potion- important for those eighteen hour writing marathons.

Finally Maura, predictable as the tides in some aspects, ate the same Walkers' Prawn Cocktail flavour crisps she'd been eating as a snack and occasionally as breakfast, lunch and dinner since she was seven years old.

Now all she had to do was make sure that they received and consumed their doctored goodies.

***

"Harry, have you read this?" Hermione asked through a mouthful of cornflakes.

Breakfast was late for her this morning because she'd been up all night researching, and Richard had already gone to school. Although he'd already eaten, Harry was sat at the kitchen table with her, reading something that was either a Quidditch magazine or a report from the Order of the Phoenix, depending on whether you were included in the obscuring charm or not.

"What is it?" he asked, not looking up from the report.

"Today's Prophet."

"Do I ever have the chance to read the paper before you do?"

"No."

"So is it likely I've already read it?"

"No," she replied tartly. Harry grinned at her and sipped his tea.

"What does it say?" he asked.

"Susan Bones was mugged last night."

"Mugged? When does that ever happen?" he asked, cogs in his head turning already.

"Rarely if ever. She had her purse stolen. And..." Hermione paused either to read more or for dramatic effect. "And, oh Harry! Whoever it was stole her wand!"

"That really isn't normal," he said with a frown. "Wonder why it's not been brought to the Order's attention yet?"

"Because it's well within the capabilities of Ministry aurors?" she asked, eyebrow quirked. He stuck his tongue out at her.

"I should owl Sirius and Kingsley," he said, mind kicking into overdrive. "I think it merits investigation."

***

Katerina had 'borrowed' some magic when she was in Salem. Some centuries earlier, a witch had wished to prove how similar witches and Muggles were, and in this vein had created some power-stealing incantations. Of course, this witch was burned before she could put her plans into action, but a few years' searching through the libraries and historical archives in Salem and the region had unearthed enough references to the witch's work to piece it all together. Katerina had spent a very cold night in the woods to get some of this magic for herself. It was enough for potion-making and broom riding, but there were still so many things she couldn't do- like get into Diagon Alley (she had to sneak in behind a real wizard or witch) or charms and the like. The more she became immersed in this world, the more she felt like she needed the same abilities as they had. This had quite naturally led to the idea of stealing someone's wand. They could always buy a new one, but she couldn't just wander into a wand shop and ask for one.

Once she was safely back at her flat, she pulled the wand she'd stolen earlier out of her bag. Funny, she thought, that such a little thing could harness such power. Flicking through the Standard Book of Spells 1, she found a simple enough sort of spell. Wingardium Leviosa. She could do that, surely? She pointed the wand at a sheet of paper and with a flourish, said:

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Nothing happened. The paper did not even stir from its place on the table. She tried the spell a few more times, trying different pronunciations, but nothing happened. With an annoyed sort of sigh, she flicked through one of the harder to procure books she'd acquired, Magic Made Easy For Muggles (But Don't Say I Told You).

"Magical persons can only use their own wand with any great success," she read aloud from the book. "Muggles will find any witch or wizard's wand absolutely useless without the aid of several highly illegal spells. These can be found in Appendix C, p 232."

Accordingly, she turned to the appendix in question. There were only two spells there. One bound the caster to the wand and allowed them to access the power to it, the other was less permanent but needed to be cast once a week. Katerina was a cautious sort of person, so chose the second spell without much hesitation.

It was more complicated and required several drops of her blood, but she did not want to risk binding herself to this thing and so would go for the second, more complex spell for the sake of safety . She took a knife and sliced open the tip of her middle finger. Quickly reciting the spell written in the book, she allowed some of her blood to fall onto the tip of the wand.

When she picked it up, she felt the magic and power contained within it that was now available to her. She knew that wands were mostly just a conductor for a witch's own magic, and it was now conducting the magic she'd stolen in Salem and magnifying the magic in the wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she repeated. Now the sheet of paper floated into the air. Katerina whooped with joy. Time to step up her plans.

***

"Ron, have you got the special fried rice?" Deanna flicked open the cartons of Chinese takeaway on the dining room table with her wand, counting how many there were. "There's an entire tray missing!"

"Me? No, of course not!" he shouted back from the kitchen. He did not sound convincing.

"Ron!"

He opened the kitchen door. A tell-tale smudge of sweet and sour sauce on his chin was all the evidence she needed. Dee sighed.

"Put the remnants of that carton on the table now."

"Dee-"

"Ron," she said sharply. "This is for your friends."

"If they're really my friends, they'll understand," he said, still chewing.

"Ron."

"Fine." He took his fork out of the carton and put it down on the table with the rest of the food. His wife smiled at him and wiped his chin.

"There. You almost look civilised now," she told him. His arm snaked around her waist. His lips were millimetres away from hers when the doorbell rang. He growled slightly, but detached himself from Dee and opened the door.

"Harry, Hermione! You're early."

"Sorry Ron," Harry said with a grin. "Hermione demanded it."

"I wanted to get Richard to Sirius and Narcissa's in time for tea. He's having a cook-out or barbecue or something with Jamie in the garden," Hermione told them.

"Well come in, come in!" Ron said, rushing them in.

"What's up with him?" Harry asked Deanna. She smirked.

"Acute hunger."

"Ah."

"It feels like I haven't seen you both for ages," Ron said to Hermione in a mournful sort of voice.

"Well that's because you haven't," she replied. "We've all been very busy lately. I'm just glad we made it tonight, frankly."

"I should add here," said Harry, "That Hermione is the busy one. I just have a bar to run."

"And an Order," added Ron. Harry just nodded sharply.

***

"Maura is awfully late," said Dee, as she nibbled at a black bean. "I mean, I know this is Maura we're talking about, but still."

"I'll try her on the fire," said Hermione authoritatively before she disappeared into the living room."

"How late is she now?" asked Ron.

"An hour and a half," replied Harry. "Frankly, I'm amazed that Hermione lasted this long."

Hermione returned, looking concerned.

"I didn't get any response, but I'm sure I can hear her."

"Should we go over?" asked Dee.

"Yes," replied Harry and Ron together. The four of them Apparated to the gates of Connaught Manor and walked up the driveway.

"I can definitely hear her," said Harry. "What is that?"

"Oh God!" said Hermione. "I haven't heard that since my Great Uncle Luke died."

"What is it?" demanded Ron. "It sounds like she's garrotting an Augurey. Really slowly."

"Kevin Barry," Hermione replied in a depressed tone that suggested to her companions that she'd rather drink Snape-flavoured polyjuice potion than get any closer to the horrendous noise.

"Ah, Tim Finnegan lived in Walken Street!" they heard Maura caterwaul.

"That's Finnegan's Wake. I think she's doing some sort of medley of depressing Irish dirges," Hermione told them as they walked around the house to find Maura sat bolt upright on the grass near the kitchen door.

"Hello!" she said brightly- much too brightly for Maura's standards. She cleared her throat and began to sing again.

"And that Auld Triangle, can go jingle jangle... all along the banks of the Royal-"

"Maura!" Hermione shouted sharply. "What is going on here?"

"We're singing," replied Maura, waving a hand vaguely. "My name is O'Hanlon...."

"No," said Deanna. "You're singing, we're unwilling listeners."

"Been drinking?" asked Harry. Maura nodded. It was more of an attempt at a nod that became a sort of head-roll in the rendition.

"Not much."

"Why?" asked Ron, tripping over an empty bottle.

"Because I felt like it, idiot."

"But er, Maura, you don't drink," said Hermione. Ron pointed through the open back door to quite a few bottles scattered on the kitchen table. Not one of them had a drop left in them.

Maura went to start singing again, but Hermione had her wand out in a flash.

"If you sing one more note, I will hex your mouth off for a month."

Maura closed her mouth, but a distinct humming began to the tune (roughly) of Whiskey in the Jar.

"I should've known giving her those bloody records was a mistake," hissed Hermione. "Will you get her off that wet grass and inside the house?"

It took both Harry and Ron- with magic- the better part of ten minutes to get drunken Maura inside and settled down in a chair by the fire.

"How much have you actually drunk?" asked Dee. Maura shrugged.

"What's in the kitchen."

"All of that?" Hermione demanded. "What are you, an ox?"

"What?"

"Why, Maura?" asked Ron. Maura's ebullient-drunk mood disappeared to be replaced by a morose-drunk mood.

"It's the same day as I met George," she told them.

"Oh," all four replied at the same time.

"I'll sober you up," Harry told her, reaching into his wand pocket.

"No!" she shrieked. "I don't want to be sober, you stupid twonk!"

"Let her sleep it off, Harry," Hermione suggested gently.

"Yeah!" Maura retorted, sliding a little off her chair.

"If you sing, I'll let him do it," Hermione warned her. Maura yawned and her mood switched again.

"Hermione," she replied in a monotone. "I really don't care. Do what ever the bleedin' hell you like."

After a worried glance between the four sober adults, Harry moved first, and he bent down to help her up.

"Er Maura, why don't I give you a hand getting upstairs?" he asked. She rejected the offer of a hand by swatting said hand away with a badly timed slap. Instead of hitting him on the hand, she ended up smacking him in the groin. His eyes watered.

"It's like one of those afternoon comedy films on the telly," Ron muttered to Dee, who stifled a laugh.

"Right," Harry said authoritatively, water trickling from his left eye. "That's it. Get up."

Maura stumbled to her feet and allowed Harry to yank her towards the stairs.

"You're a silly, silly girl," he told her, as he dragged her along the corridor towards her room. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because you'd make me talk about feelings, and I don't have feelings."

"I know as well as you do that that isn't true."

"Whatever," she slurred. He pulled her into her room- which was a mess- and helped her onto the bed. He dutifully removed her boots as she slumped back onto the bed, almost asleep. When he was done- why couldn't she just wear shoes like everyone else- he helped her into bed.

"Now, go to sleep. We'll come and see you tomorrow," he told her quietly. She yawned and nodded.

"All right. Thank you."

"You're welcome Maura. We love you, you know."

"Yeah." She leaned up and made a drunkenly clumsy attempt to kiss him on the cheek. Harry could see it coming but was unable to do anything about it as Maura's lips came crashing down onto his for a long moment.

"Love you guys an' all," she replied. Then she slumped down onto her pillows and quickly fell asleep. Harry quickly made his way back downstairs.

"Is she all right?" Hermione asked him, brow creased up with concern. Harry nodded, hoping that he didn't still retain his childhood ability to go very, very red.

"She's asleep."

"Are you all right?" she asked him, looking at him curiously.

"Yeah, yeah. It's... She's heavier than she looks."

"That is a terrible thing to say about a woman, Harry!" Hermione told him in a shocked voice.

"I don't want to be the selfish member of this group, but can we go and finish dinner?" asked Ron. "I'm really hungry."

"That is really selfish, yes Ron," Hermione snapped, glaring at both him and Harry. Harry for his part, looked back with confusion.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Oh... Never mind!" Hermione fumed as they walked back down the driveway.

"What's the matter, love?" Ron asked in an overly-saccharine manner. Deanna smacked him in the arm as Harry hit the other arm. "Ow!"

"Don't you ever think of anything but food?" Hermione asked him.

"Yes... Not often, but yes."

"How easy your life must be." Sarcasm oozed from every syllable as Hermione snarled it out.

"What's got into you?" Harry asked. He'd intended to sound suitably calming, but it had come out rather more like annoyance. This did not help.

"Nothing!" Hermione snapped. "I'm going home."

"But there's still food-" Ron knew this was the wrong thing to say.

"I'm not hungry!" she shouted. As soon as she was at the gates, Hermione Apparated away.

"Nice one Ron," Harry growled. "I'll have to live with that now!"

It was now Harry's turn to Apparate away in a huff. Deanna didn't speak to Ron for the rest of the evening and he was left wondering what he'd said wrong.

***

It was raining the next morning when Maura Richards' eyes finally cracked open. Raining so hard that the skies were grey and dark and a lot like night time. In fact, she had to check her clock twice before believing that it was morning and the day before was finally over.

She didn't know why that particular day held such sway over her. She didn't feel the need to block it all out on the anniversary of George's death, or on his birthday. Nor even on Deirdre's birthday- a day he was never present for. It was always on the day that had just passed once more that she felt the ever-present pain become unbearable.

It was on that day that she missed her first friend too. She was never as close to Kat as she was to her current friends, but Kat had been the first person to ever give her a chance. To refuse to accept her as she was and force her to be kinder. To give her a chance. On that day she celebrated the start of one life, but the death of another. As soon as Kat fell in love with George, it was only a matter of time before Maura fell out with her first friend.

From the moment George turned up, with his long dark hair, dark eyes, charming grin and swashbuckling ways, Maura's friendship with Kat was in danger of being destroyed. When George chose Maura over Kat, it was shattered beyond any possible repair.

Maura usually felt nothing but disgust for Kat, but on this day, she always felt sad. On this day, the anniversary of the day after she met George, she always hoped that wherever she was, Kat had found some measure of happiness.

***

The basin looked like a Pensieve but Katerina was not using it to look at memories. Made of silver, the basin was covered in writing that Katerina had identified as ancient Greek and had found a translation for in one of her stolen books. A dark, murky liquid swirled inside it as Katerina prepared whatever it was she was trying.

That time just before dawn is said to be the darkest time of the night, a time even insomniacs find sleep. Katerina, on the other hand was wide awake and ready to work. The basin that looked so much like a Pensieve would allow Katerina to enter the dreams of anyone she chose as long as their mind was open enough. It would not take a mastermind to realise that she intended to invade the subconscious minds of the Diamond. What was yet more dastardly, she intended to encroach upon their children's dreams as well, just for practice.

From what she knew of them so all so far after her preliminary investigations, Kathleen Potter would be the best start. She was loud, brash and didn't seem to hold anything back- she would be a good first try. Katerina stood over the basin and flipped through a book, Very Darke Magics For Non Magic Folke. It looked to be at least five hundred years old and was probably the only surviving copy of the book. She flicked through to page 361- 'Dreams And Their Uses' and carefully followed the instructions for the silver basin which she privately called the Dream Bowl although she knew it had the proper Greek name engraved onto it. She threw in some herbs- nothing too unusual and easily found in Tesco- and said in a clear, sharp voice,

"Kathleen Potter!" She thrust her hands into the basin.

***

Katerina felt herself become sucked into the dream. It was not as clear as she had hoped or expected it to be. Vague colours swirled around, mostly in various shades of red. After what seemed like half an hour of waiting for something to happen, Katerina saw a blurry vision of Kathleen herself flying on her broom, arms stretched out wide and a free, joyous look on her face. Katerina frowned, for Kathleen's love of flying was not exactly a secret. Indistinct shapes seemed to form in the colour before fading back to nothing.

Quite suddenly, so abruptly that Katerina jumped, a face leapt out of the vagueness, which had turned a deep crimson colour. He was incredibly handsome, blond and blue-eyed but some years older than Kathleen. Katerina didn't recognise him but had the oddest feeling that he was famous. Before she could think on it more, the smiling face disappeared and the colour changed almost imperceptibly to a red more scarlet than crimson. A new face appeared. It was also male, also blond but younger than the first- this young man seemed more around Kathleen's age. He looked less familiar but Katerina felt that Kathleen knew him well.

***

She pulled her hands from the murky depths of the basin feeling rather disappointed. She had not expected to find such resistance from the Potter girl, but she'd at least seen two faces. Perhaps she could use them- as soon as she found out who they were. She repeated the whole thing again, this time with Lilyella Potter, but came up against the same resistance. She had not expected this at all. She did not realise that Harry and Hermione Potter had been teaching their children to clear their minds before sleep since they were very small and it was now second nature to them. She did not realise that the Potters had feared such things since for their children since birth and most likely before that. She did not know that Harry's own dreams had been interfered with as a young boy and he was scrupulous in his protection of his children's dreams. She did know now that it was not going to be as easy as she had at first thought.

She would just have to try again. She would find out who those faces in Kathleen's dream were. She found dream invasion to be quite tiring and so she reluctantly headed to bed herself.

Kit and Ella both woke up at school several hours later both suffering mild headaches and both vaguely aware of having dreamt that night. Several hundred miles away in London, Katerina slept on, waiting for night to fall again so she could try again. Perhaps, she thought with a spiteful smile, she would try Maura tonight. If Maura was still Maura (and Katerina was sure that women like Maura don't really change), Katerina knew that she would not be in bed until around one in the morning. So, she didn't bother starting until two when she hoped Maura would be in a nice, deep sleep. She went through the required steps before plunging her hands into the basin.

***

Maura was surprisingly unguarded in her sleep. Maybe it was because she was a Muggle, or perhaps it was that she was so cagey during waking hours that she couldn't keep up all her defences while she slept. Whatever the reasons, Katerina stepped into a perfect Technicolor, breathtaking Cinemascope and Stereophonic-sound dream. She was hardly surprised at what she saw: Maura was dreaming of a fight. Katerina walked through the dream as if she were invisible. She barely recognised the location but realised that this must be Maura's recap of the last battle against the Old Enemy with George. Katerina had not been on the battlefield herself, she recalled bitterly: Maura and George had both insisted she stay behind out of harm's way. Now she thought with a snarl, Maura had just been trying to get her out of the way.

She watched as Maura fought a strange, semi-corporeal figure, her shield barely managing to block the rain of magic and violent blows against her. She watched as Maura grew more and more tired as the battle went on and as more soldiers around her fell. She watched like a spectator at a football match as George and Maura united to finish off the Old Enemy once and for all. Katerina watched as George threw himself in front of Maura, saving her from a blast of icy light from the strange figure she'd been fighting. Katerina's heart sank and her legs went weak as she saw George crumple onto the ground, Maura not far behind him. She didn't want to watch anymore, for she knew the rest.

As if Maura had heard her, the dream changed. She realised dimly that Maura's subconscious couldn't deal with George's death any better than Katerina could and had changed the subject. This new dream was utterly unreal to Katerina, however. It seemed far back in time, further back than either Katerina or Maura knew. A pretty red-headed woman, no more than nineteen was walking down Knightsbridge with a tall handsome young man. Katerina blinked- what was Harry Potter doing in Maura's dreams? Who was the red-headed woman? She rushed down dream-Knightsbridge after them, needing to pay no heed to the crowds. She caught up with them as they headed into Harrods.

"I know you don't see the point," she heard the woman say above the din "but you know what my sister is like. I'd rather get her something boring and Muggle-like than make her even more angry at me than she is. So be quiet and follow me round like a good boyfriend."

Katerina's ears perked up. Did Harry Potter have a girlfriend she didn't know about? She hurried after them and was finally able to get a good look at them when they paused in the toy department. It wasn't Harry Potter. This young man looked almost identical to him, she was sure of that. This man had hazel eyes, not green, and there was no scar on his forehead. The darkness etched imperceptibly into Harry Potter's face and eyes was nowhere to be found here. Information began to slot together in Katerina's brain as she watched this young man flick idly at a Monopoly board in an attempt to make the pieces move on their own. This must be Harry's father and so the woman must be his mother... the previous Heir of Maeve. Maura had dreams of other heirs' lives, including Harry Potter's mother. This was very interesting news indeed. Very interesting indeed.

The dream changed suddenly, and she found herself on a cliff amidst rain and wind. She recognised it as part of Maura's gardens at Connaught Manor. She turned around, searching for Maura. She found her, stood by the edge of the cliff, looking down at the sea below. She was wearing a long coat that flapped angrily in the wind and her hair was dripping wet. At first, Katerina hoped she might see Maura leap off the cliff, but she realised that the look on Maura's face was not one of despair but of calm. She seemed entirely at one with the weather, as if the howling winds and stinging rain complemented her mood and even her personality.

***

Katerina jerked back from the basin quite suddenly, as if Maura had woken up and kicked Katerina out of her head. She wasn't unduly worried. She could come back again and even if she never did, she had some fascinating information she could use to her advantage. How would Harry Potter feel if he knew his good friend Maura had dreams of his parents? She wondered how Harry would treat Maura after discovering this titbit of information.

Deciding it was still early enough to continue, she tried Ron Weasley. Like all the Potters, his dreams were too vague to be useful. She continued down the list and found that Rain Weasley's dream was open but pointless- her dream was the old 'suddenly being naked in a public place and being mortified' chestnut. Increasingly dissatisfied with this plan, she went to the last name on her list.

Katerina had been looking forward to this dream with more malicious glee than any other- even Maura's. She had tried to invade the Potters' minds for research, but this was merely for her own amusement. She plunged her hands into the Dream Bowl and shouted:

"Deirdre Richards!"

***

She was on the same windswept cliff she'd seen in Maura's dream and in reality. The cliffs of Connaught Manor were not damp and dreary but forty shades of lustrous green, while the sky was an almost painfully beautiful shade of blue. The sun was shining much too brightly to be realistic, but this was not even close to reality. Katerina turned to see Deirdre kick a football. She was only about seven years in this dream and her red hair was much, much shorter than it was now. She looked happy- very happy- as she booted the ball towards a laughing man.

Katerina wanted nothing more than to physically invade the dream and break it up. Seven-year-old Deirdre was playing football with her father. George was seven years older than he had been when he died, although the years had not made much mark on him. His brown hair had been allowed to grow even longer than it had been when he was twenty (then, she remembered, it had brushed against his shoulders) and was tied back very neatly in a ponytail. He was laughing with his daughter, gently kicking the ball back to her so she could reach it.

"Come on, darling!" he called to the girl. "Pretend you're Michael Owen!"

"My daughter is not a Liverpool fan, no matter how much you try to indoctrinate her."

Katerina spun around. She had not noticed Maura sat behind her on the grass reading. Reading! When had Maura ever read anything before? Katerina, more stunned by this than George's presence in the dream, moved closer in order to see what the book was.

"Mummy! Come and play!" Deirdre demanded.

"In a minute, Red."

"Hermione won't mind if you don't finish reading it today," said George. As Maura yawned and flipped the book shut, Katerina caught sight of the title: Warriors In Love: The Battling Richardses by Hermione Granger. Her blood began to boil.

"No she won't, git-face, but her editor wants to send it for printing tomorrow and I want to know what she's said about us before everyone else does."

"Even the good stuff?" George teased.

"Especially the good stuff, git-face."

"That's not like you."

"She hasn't written anything bad," Maura informed him. "You're her bestest buddy in the whole wide world."

"No I'm not," said George, still kicking the ball back and forth with Deirdre.

"You are an' all. Ever since the Great George saved her life."

"Shut up," he begged. She laughed.

"You're her heeeeeee-ro! If she weren't so potty for Potter, I'd be jealous."

"Of Hermione?" George asked, stopping the ball with his left foot. "You've got nothing to worry about. I'd much prefer a sarky, violent girl who calls me names to a sweet-natured, kind-hearted, hard-working girl like Hermione."

"Humph."

"Maura, you've the only girl who can kick my arse and that's something I respect." George leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "And I love you for it too."

"You have issues, dear boy."

"Daddy!" Deirdre shouted. "I want to play!"

"Join us, Maz," he asked her. She stood up and glared.

"Call me Maz again and I will kick your arse."

George just laughed and, as Maura went to move towards Deirdre, he rather mischievously slapped her backside. Before he knew what had happened, he was flat on his back, Maura pinning him to the ground, her hand around his neck. Her eyes gleamed triumphantly and she wore a satisfied smirk. Behind them, Deirdre giggled.

"Mummy! If you beat Daddy up we won't be able to play football!"

"For you, my Red, I will leave him alone," she told her daughter, loosening her grip on George. Quick as a flash, she was lying flat on her back, George pinning her down.

"You know," he murmured, "This is the second time today I've had you on your back, Maura." He flashed her a devilish grin as she attempted to wriggle out from under him. They just stared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to look away first.

"Daddy!" Deirdre's now impatient voice broke into their staring contest. "I want to play football now!"

"All right, princess." He got up and held a hand out to Maura.

"Liverpool versus Tottenham?" he asked.

"Bring it on, soldier."

As the Liverpool (George and Deirdre) versus Tottenham (Maura and Deirdre, who insisted on playing on both teams so they were even) began, Katerina left the dream. She had seen more than enough. Much, much more than enough.

***

When she arrived back in reality, Katerina had a great urge to vomit. She hoped, rather viciously, that Deirdre remembered such dreams as this and was tortured by what could have been. She pushed the bowl away so hard that the contents spilled out over the table and onto the carpet. She ignored the growing stain and stormed away to sleep.

***

"My head hurts," grumbled Maura. She rubbed her tired eyes and yawned. Hermione looked at her. Maura was scruffier than usual and the smudges of darkness under her eyes were pronounced. Maura didn't even manage a smile for the waitress who brought ice cream to her.

"You don't look well," Hermione remarked. "Something wrong?"

"I didn't sleep well, that's all. Woke up randomly in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep."

"Did you even try?" Hermione asked. Maura nodded.

"Couldn't."

"So you went downstairs and stared at the television for the rest of the night?"

"Something like that. Listen," Maura said quietly, looking around at the patrons of Florean Fortescue's suspiciously. "I remembered this dream I had last night."

"Dream?" Hermione was immediately on guard. "What sort of dream."

"Bog-standard reliving of the time George died, then it changed. Hermione, I was dreaming of Lily Evans."

Hermione tried valiantly not to choke on her hot chocolate, but failed.

"Lily Evans?"

"Yes."

"Lily 'Harry's Mum' Evans?"

"Yeah. Lily 'Harry's Mum, Heir of Maeve, Killed by Voldemort' Evans," Maura said in a tone so flippant Hermione knew it was troubling her. "And his dad, actually. They were in Harrods doing some shopping."

"Was it a dream or a memory?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Felt like it could've been either, to be honest."

"Hmm. You were born before Lily died, so it's not as simple as reincarnation theory," mused Hermione, mentally flicking through an encyclopaedia in her mind.

"It was a bit freaky. First I thought I was dreaming of Harry."

"Yes," said Hermione dryly. "That is freaky."

"For me it is."

"True."

"Listen, don't tell him about this."

"Oh Maura, I don't-"

"How do you think he'll feel when he finds out I've been dreaming or remembering stuff from his mum's life? That his mum and dad were in my dream?"

"I think he'd rather know."

"No, I'm telling you... This wasn't the first time I've dreamt of her, I'm sure I have. You know that feeling you get when you're dreaming? The one where you know you've been there before but it couldn't possibly be in real life? That you've been here in a dream before? That's how it felt."

"Oh."

"I... At least help me find out what the bloody hell it's about before we torture one of my best mates with the fact that I get his dead parents piped into my brain at bedtime."

"All right. And I must say, your turn of phrase is quite touching."

"Thanks."

"Just to change the subject, did you hear about poor Susan Bones?"

"Nope."

"Didn't you read the newspaper this morning?"

"I fell asleep in front of Spartacus for half an hour then came straight here."

"Oh. Well, she's a witch. Was in my year at school actually. Anyway, she was mugged here in the Alley last night. Had her purse and wand stolen."

"Yeah? Muggings are hardly uncommon."

"In the outside world perhaps, but not here," Hermione waved a hand around vaguely. "Not even amongst wizardkind. And especially not stealing someone's wand. Depriving them of it during a duel or some such thing, possibly... but stealing someone's wand is... I don't know how to describe it. Just not done."

"So is the Order suspicious?"

"That's why Harry isn't with us right now."

"Oh. Think it's a Muggle?"

"No witch or wizard would need to steal someone else's wand to actually use it."

"Can a Muggle even use a wand?" Maura asked, possibly with a little envy. Hermione shrugged.

"I'm not sure, to be honest. There's not much documentation or research on the subject. I suppose... Well, I don't think anyone's tried."

"Do you think it could be done?"

"I don't know. Perhaps if the Muggle could back it up with some other source of magic. But I can't think of any such source that isn't dark."

"I'll have a word with my Guardians," Maura told her. "They're more in tune with the Muggle world than either of us."

"I sometimes forget you're not a witch."

"I don't. Mind you, I wouldn't trust me with a wand as far as I can lob me." Maura laughed heartily. "I'll go see them after lunch."

"They'll see you just like that?" Hermione asked curiously. Maura smirked.

"I am the Heir of Maeve, the Warrior Queen of Connaught, Commander of the Armies of the West, Mother and Guardian of the Heir of Ulster and Regent Commander of the Armies of the North. I don't have to make an appointment."

This time, the raucous laughter was shared between them.

***

Maura's Guardians lived in an unassuming little house in West London. It was decorated in a style typical of women their age and generation: all chintz and doilies. A closer inspection, however, revealed books on all manner of unusual subjects ranging from ancient weaponry to the myths of Ancient Persia.

"We haven't seen you in a while, dear," said Clara kindly. Maura was not the sort for small talk at the best of times, so she cut immediately to the chase.

"Someone's nicked a wand. The magical sorts think it's probably a Muggle and they wonder if you've heard anything on the guardianship grapevine."

"It's been quiet lately. Haven't you noticed?"

"I have," Maura said, the old desire for a decent barney resurfacing again. "Well, it was worth asking, I suppose."

"It was. We'll tell you if we hear anything out of the ordinary."

"You want to be careful you know. Sometimes, it's the ordinary that turns out to be most dangerous."

"That's awfully philosophical for you, Maura," Clara said with a slight and affection smile.

"It's not mine. See you around, Clara."

"Stay safe."

Maura closed the front door behind her, heart sinking. Even after all these years, she found it hard to deal with when her Guardians didn't have all the answers.

***

"Harry? Is that you?" Hermione put her quill down and looked at the clock. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, her hot chocolate was cold in the mug and he hadn't come home yet. She drained her mug with a grimace and headed downstairs.

She expected to find Harry sat at the kitchen table yawning, but instead found Ron stood there looking uncomfortable. He shifted from one foot to the other.

"Ron? Whatever are you doing here? It's so late!"

He yawned loudly and she pulled out a chair for him.

"Harry asked me to stop by on my way home."

"Where has he gone off to this time?"

"Monaco."

"Monaco? What could possibly be important in Monaco at this time of night?"

"I'm not sure," Ron rested his head on his hands. "Gambling and champagne, perhaps."

"Don't be silly," she said briskly. "It's too late. Dee must be waiting up for you."

"Yeah." He didn't move.

"Are you tired?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll make you some Enervating Hot Chocolate. I don't want you apparating if you're half-asleep."

"You don't have to."

"I'm making it for myself anyway."

"All right then."

Hermione bustled around and listened to Ron chat idly as she made them their drinks. Then the idle chatter continued as they drank.

"I'd better get home," Ron said after he'd finished. She nodded.

"Good night, Ron."

"No Hermione, good morning."

Impulsively, Ron kissed her on the cheek and bounded outside. A 'pop' later and she knew he'd gone. She went back up to her study to continue working until Harry got back home.

***

Harry shuffled tiredly through the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters on arriving back from Monaco. He wanted nothing more than to be fast asleep in his own bed with his arms wrapped around his own wife, but instead he was searching for Maura Richards. The wand theft had been disturbing for the Order and they had all gone all out to check out the usual suspects. He had chased one such suspect all the way to Monte Carlo.

Instead of finding Susan Bones' stolen wand, he found thousands of galleons' worth of extremely dodgy magical contraband. This had kept him tied up for hours, but he couldn't rest until he'd heard Maura's report from her Guardians. He found her, as expected, in the little room she used as an office when acting for the Diamond. She treated it more like a storeroom-cum-rubbish dump than an office, and when he opened the door, she was curled up on the only nearly-clear surface: her desk. She was also fast asleep and he felt rather guilty for having made her wait for him. He moved to wake her up so she could go home.

"Naff off James," she mumbled suddenly. Something about the tone made Harry freeze. As far as he knew, she didn't know anyone called James, did she? He certainly couldn't think of anyone off the top of his head. Then, she spoke again: "Petunia will go barmy, idiot!"

His blood ran cold for a moment, then ran hot with jealousy. He shook her awake.

"What was that?" he demanded. Harry Potter was particularly bad tempered when tired, and he was frustrated by his lack of success too, so he was perhaps overly harsh with her.

Maura slid off the desk in surprise at being awoken in such a fashion.

"What the-" she cut herself off to allow the fog of sleep and dreams time to clear. "I dreamed... oh Harry."

"You were dreaming," he said harshly. "You were dreaming that you were my mother."

"Don't take it to heart," she said with a yawn. "I dream of a lot of the heirs. Last week I dreamed I was some scullery maid in Swansea eighty years ago."

"How long?" Harry demanded. She shrugged, and he found her nonchalance even more irritating. "A long time, I take it. You didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't know how to tell you. It's not something that comes up in ordinary conversation. It doesn't happen very often, although I've remembered more lately. Harry..." Maura paused to yawn again. "I just didn't know what to say. I figured that what you didn't know couldn't hurt me."

Harry managed to crack a smile as she once more mangled a cliche.

"Tell me about them. The dreams I mean. Do you see my father? Sirius? Remus?"

Maura, confident that his temper had subsided, sat back down on her desk and began to tell him the dreams of Lily Evans.

By the time they'd finished, the sun was already risen and at Ruairi House, Hermione Potter was asleep at her desk.

***