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Samhain, Samhain, let the ritual begin,
We call upon our sacred ancestors to come in
Samhain, Samhain, we call upon our kin,
We call upon our dear departed loved ones to come in.
The Veil between the worlds is thin
Our hearts reach cross the sea of time
To bring our loved ones in
Samhain, Samhain we honor all our kin
We honor those who’ve gone before
As the Great Wheel turns again.
Samhain, Samhain we call upon our kin
We call upon our Sacred Ancestors to come in
Samhain, Samhain we call them to come in
We call upon our dear departed loved ones to come in.
Samhain, Lisa Thiel
***
The little beaded handbag that Rose had borrowed from her mother was hitting her thigh with every step she took. Especially now, when she was climbing up the hill to the more hidden and rather darker side of the cemetery in Ottery St Catchpole.
The side reserved to the Magical folks.
She could hear the people of the village scream and laugh out loud from the street, drunk probably, because what was Halloween night if not another fairly good excuse to get hammered and hit the town?
And not just for the Muggles. She was pretty sure that James and Albus were there too, maybe causing a bit of trouble with some subtle magic trick learnt from Uncle George before heading to Teddy and Victoire’s for their annual Halloween bash.
The Lupins’ party had quickly become a tradition amongst the Potter-Weasley cousins, which was quite extraordinary, because Teddy and Victoire had been having those informal get-togethers only for a couple of years now. But there always was alcohol and quiet corners to snog someone, and a lot of good music, or so James had told Rose, making them instantaneously good.
Rose, Albus, Hugo, and Lily had anticipated the moment they’d finally be out of school to attend the party for years. And that moment had at long last arrived for Albus and Rose, and somehow… for Lily. Roxanne had sent her a stash of new, untested, Skiving Snackbox that she had modified herself the month before.
A simple, but effective plan, worthy of a Marauder.
The result had been that Lily got fake Vanishing Sickness, was sent to St Mungo’s for a week, and was discharged only that very morning, pleading, with those puppy eyes that she mastered so well in front of Uncle Harry, to let her attend the party and be sent back to school a day later.
The Head Auror could be rather daft when it was up to his daughter, even Aunt Ginny had noticed how indulgent he was with his little princess at times.
Rose huffed as she reached the gravestones scattered over the hill and stopped to squint her eyes at the tombs in front of her. She had accompanied Grandma Molly the week before to place flowers on Uncle Fred’s grave, but finding the same spot again in the dark of the night was not as easy as she had expected.
“Lumos,” she muttered, drawing out her wand and pointing it in front of her. The gravestone of Pandora Lovegood, Luna’s mother, came into sight before her. Well, that was good, because if she remembered correctly, all she had to do was walk for about a dozen metres to the right, paying attention not to stumble over the broken branch that had been rotting away near Great-granddad Septimus’ gravestone, and then turn to her left and pass one, two and three and… there!
Right in front of her stood the solitary and polished headstone of Fred Weasley, 1 April, 1978 – 2 May, 1998, Eternally Loved.
She took a deep breath and nodded to try to look braver than what she felt at that moment. After all, who wasn’t a bit scared of a cemetery on Halloween night?
Oh well, she needed to talk to someone, she needed to ask for a little help and maybe a little blessing, she wasn’t doing anything bad, really. It was just a simple ritual for a Summoning. It was not as if she was dancing with the devil and drinking the blood of her neighbours’ children.
She tugged the strings of the beaded bag and pushed her arm inside down to the elbow, drawing out the thick book that Lily had given her that same morning. She searched for the bookmark in the shape of a black cat and opened the volume on page 347.
Basic Summoning of a Deceased Loved One.
Basic meant easy. Hopefully.
Step 1: place five black candles around the grave of the person you’ve decided to Summon. Possibly, in the shape of a five-pointed star.
She placed the volume on the leaf-covered ground and rummaged through the bag to find the candles. A five-pointed star… Well, she was going to place them in a circle around the grave, it was up to her Uncle Fred to find a bit of imagination and decide that they actually represented a star. He had invented a whole range of tricks, surely he had enough imagination.
Step 2: light the candles and sit inside the circle.
“Incendio,” she said out loud, staring as the candles sparkled to life. Unfastening her cloak, she placed it on the ground then proceeded to smooth her Halloween costume before she sat cross-legged on it.
Step 3: place the picture of the person you’ve decided to Summon in front of you.
The picture she had chosen amongst her father’s collection had Uncle Fred and Uncle George dressed in their best suits, probably at the age of nineteen or something, in front of a newly opened Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. They were smiling and pointing to the main entrance as if they were particularly proud of their enterprise. She placed it on the ground before her and stared as they kept on grinning happily up to her.
Step 4: use the blood of a relative of the deceased who is still alive to Summon your loved one. (Better if it is your own blood, if you’re a relative.) Let the blood drip on both the picture and the soil where the deceased is buried.
She drew out her mother’s set of sewing needles – honestly, she didn’t particularly care for a bloodbath. They asked for blood, she was against any kind of waste, a few drops would have sufficed. She stretched her hand and punctured the skin of her forefinger with the needle. She pressed the surface near the puncture and let a few drops fall on the picture and others on the ground.
Step 5: repeat the following invocation out loud:
I Summon thee,
To come to me
On this sacred night
Come back to the light
Dear [insert name here], I Summon thee
Come, come, come to me!
She arched an eyebrow to what was definitely not Shakespeare, but if that was what was needed, who was she to judge dull language and poor prosody?
She took a deep breath and suckled on her punctured finger before finally repeating the invocation out loud, “I Summon thee, To come to me. On this sacred night, Come back to the light. Dear Uncle Fred, I Summon thee. Come, come, come to me!”
Her voice echoed through the empty cemetery for some long seconds until it finally died out, swallowed by the night. Rose waited with her heart in her throat and her own pulse drumming in her temples.
More laughter came from the streets nearby. There was a small explosion and people running away while the owner of a deep voice shouted after them.
But nothing happened in the cemetery.
She took a deep breath as she repeated the invocation. Once, twice, three times, but the only thing that came to Rose was a vague feeling of impatience and irritation. That basic Summoning was definitely too basic to work. Probably for a real ritual, she would have needed to burn some sage, or use a mouse as a sacrifice, and maybe she would have needed to slash her hand open and make a bloodbath. Well, that was definitely not going to happen.
Rose huffed, her heartbeat slowing down again now that she came to terms with the ineffectiveness of the ritual. “Oh great,” she snorted, “just great. I’m missing Teddy and Victoire’s Halloween party to sit in a cemetery like an idiot in the middle of the night.” She uncrossed her legs and stretched them a little, smoothing the black skirt down to her knees. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Lily with this,” she grunted, “every time she gets something from the attic of Grimmauld Place I always end up in a situation like this. It was the same with the expired Doxycide that she claimed would work perfectly fine and instead I ended up in St Mungo’s right before Christmas with that bloody bite on my wrist. Or with the absolutely innocuous stash of Floo Powder that had the two of us ending up in South Africa instead of the Burrow.”
She crossed her legs again, moving her pointed hat a bit to pull back her wild curls from her face. Her eyes wandered the cemetery for a while as she decided what to do.
Well, she was still in time to get to Cambridge for Teddy and Victoire’s party, which was where her parents thought she was anyway. But Rose Weasley wasn’t one to give up that easily. She would try one more time, and if really, really, really nothing happened, she would go and enjoy the good music and the pumpkin juice at her cousins’ house.
She straightened her back and tried to look more resolute than what she actually felt as she repeated, “I Summon thee, To come to me. On this sacred night, Come back to the light. Dear Uncle Fred, I Summon thee. Come, come, come to me!” And then she held her breath as waited.
And waited.
And waited a bit more.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
This time she couldn’t hear anything. Not even the laughter and screams coming from the village. Just her breathing and her heart.
“Oh honestly!” she snapped, finally losing her patience. “This is ridiculous. I’m out of here.”
She pushed her hands to the ground to find some leverage and stood up. “Blimey, what a waste of time,” she muttered under her breath as she stepped towards the candles and tried to extinguish one of them with a wave of her wand.
The light flickered gently in front of her, but it kept burning as if nothing had happened.
She furrowed her brow before rolling her eyes. “Stupid candle,” she tried to snap, but her voice was suddenly swallowed by the howl of the wind. She brought her hands to the brim of her black hat and stared wide-eyed as the leaves started to swirl around her.
And still the candles wouldn’t snuff out.
She caught the book before it could fly away and sat once again on the cloak, grasping the volume and the handbag tightly in her arms.
The earth started to quake slightly, she could see it in the candles swaying around her. The leaves began to fly up into the sky, and there was a light coming from above her head. And a far away cry… not like that of a Banshee… more like that of a person who was shouting something and getting closer and closer and closer…
She raised her eyes and stared in disbelief as an unidentified object moved rather swiftly towards her. Was that a leaf? It didn’t look like a leaf at all. Especially not in the way it moved its white arms. In fact it looked more like a bird… or a big white worm… or… or a person really—
Rose jumped to her feet and stepped back, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise as she stared at the young man flailing his arms and legs and getting dangerously close to the ground at a reckless pace.
She could see his blue eyes wide and mouth all distorted for the speed, he was screaming and Rose felt the urge to scream too and look away as he crashed to the ground near to her.
She didn’t want to look. Whoever that was couldn’t have survived the impact. Merlin, what had she done? That couldn’t be Uncle Fred. Surely Uncle Fred would have hovered about like Nearly-Headless Nick did, but that person there… he had looked so alive as he crashed to the ground. Merlin! Who had she Summoned? She was shaking now, cold beads of sweat covered her forehead.
“Argh!” cried the man. “Bloody… sodding…”
Oh Merlin! He was alive. Thank God, he was alive!
She took a deep breath and turned slowly to look at him.
Okay. He was definitely a man. A fair-skinned, freckle-covered man. She couldn’t see his face or half of his body, for he had landed right behind Uncle Fred’s tombstone, and his knees dipped into the wet soil, but his bare back and firm buttocks were wriggling up in the air.
She bit her bottom lip as she stared at him.
Merlin, what had she done?
The man pushed his hands on the ground and shook the leaves from his head, groaning in pain and straightening his back a little. Now that Rose could see a bit more of him, she noticed that the sparse hair on his arms and thighs was reddish, and that he was sporting Uncle George’s same exact hair colour. Well, every Weasley’s same exact hair colour, really.
He raised his head from the ground and took a deep breath, coughing up some dirt as his eyes finally fell on her.
Instead of looking surprised, as Rose had expected him to do, he narrowed his eyes and barked, “Cushioning Charm next time, for Merlin’s beard! Are you a witch or what?”
She looked at him a bit taken aback at his tone. “I’m… hum… I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I… I thought…”
He snorted at her, shaking his head in disbelief. “What did you expect?” he snapped, brushing the leaves from his hair. “That I’d come up from the ground?”
She cocked her neck a little. “Uncle Fred?” she whispered unsurely. Did the ritual actually work? Was that really him? Well, she was impressed.
“Well, were you expecting someone else while you chanted that Dear Uncle Fred, I Summon thee. Come, come, come to me!?” he asked with contempt. He stood up and Rose had to avert her gaze from his body. He was completely naked and… Well, he wasn’t as tall as her father, nor near as thin, instead he was quite stocky and he looked like he was a tad taller than Uncle Harry. And he was completely naked. And well-endowed, apparently.
“I hope you have clothes,” he told her sourly. “I’m not going to stand here naked for the whole night.”
“Clothes?” she asked, keeping her eyes to the ground.
“Oh bloody hell,” he muttered. “Did you use one of Lockhart’s books to Summon me?”
“I… I…” She swallowed and bit her bottom lip. No she didn’t have clothes for him. Blimey, she had actually expected him to arrive in a white tunic or something. Was everybody naked in the hereafter?
“I’ll take this, ta very much.” His words were followed by a swish of fabric on the ground, and when Rose looked up at him again he was already fastening her cloak around his neck.
She stared at him as he turned his back to her and swiped his headstone with a pale hand. When he was satisfied with the cleanliness of the granite, he turned again and sat down, crossing his legs and looking at her.
She was petrified and didn’t really know why. After all, she had been the one who had Summoned him. The fact was that she had really hoped for the ritual to work, and when it hadn’t seemed likely that someone would return from the hereafter at all, she had convinced herself that it would be just a complete waste of time and energy.
“Well?” he asked her. “Are you going to stand there all night? Sit down.”
She nodded and crossed her legs again, sitting gracefully on the ground in front of him.
“Well, well, Rosie,” he smirked, “you’re still rather agile. Considering…”
She darkened slightly. “I didn’t Summon you here to make fun of me,” she growled, finally finding the courage to talk to him.
He chuckled at her reply. “Oh, why did you Summon me here, then?” he asked amusedly.
Rose’s mouth was dry when she swallowed. “Well—”
“Oh no, no, no,” he cut her off, “wait! Let’s play a game of guessing. I love games, haven’t played one in ages.” He seemed to think hard, tapping a finger to his lips and scrunching up his eyes in the effort. “You… hmm… tricky one… you Summoned me here because… hmm… because you only got ten N.E.W.T.’s instead of the twelve you were going for and now you’re wondering if you will ever be elected Minister for Magic!”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “I got eleven N.E.W.T.’s,” she informed him haughtily, “and I don’t want to become Minister for Magic.”
“Eleven?” he asked thoughtfully. “Who was the one who got ten again… Lily I think…”
“Lily is still at Hogwarts,” pointed out Rose.
“Is she? Bloody hell, I can’t get a hang of earth time. Well, tell her that she’ll get ten then,” he replied nonchalantly. “Are you sure you don’t want to become Minister for Magic, though? Isn’t that what your mummy wants for you? Her little genius of a daughter? First woman to become Minister for Magic…”
“There have been almost more women than men in that position ever since the founding of the Ministry in 1629,” pointed out Rose sourly.
Uncle Fred rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the history lesson, dear. Okay, so… no to that. Hmm… is it because of your hair? Is it because it looks just a tinsy bit like a bush?”
She scowled and tugged on the brim of her hat, pushing it down on her hair. “No! I… I like my hair!” she lied.
Uncle Fred looked at her in bewilderment. “Whatever floats your boat, Rose. But I think I got it! You are heartbroken because your boyfriend of three years left you right before you graduated from Hogwarts and now you want some dating advice from your Uncle Fred.”
“I don’t want—”
“Okay, here it comes: forget him, he was not worth it, you’re better off alone.” He shrugged a shoulder and added, “And I didn’t approve of him anyway.”
Rose felt her cheeks on fire. “Hey! Scorpius is a great lad.”
“Well,” he replied sourly, “his dear great-aunt killed me, so sorry if I don’t exactly like him.”
Rose blushed even more at his words. He was kind of right. “Well, he is… he’s not… he’s not like that, you know…” she muttered. “He’s nice…”
“Anyway,” he continued nonchalantly, “I think that with a bit of makeup and maybe some Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion – I know what you said, but honestly, try to use it for a night and then tell me how it feels. Your mother should know what I’m talking about – you’ll be ready to get back on the market.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want dating advice from my dead uncle, thank you very much,” she snorted.
“Ouch,” he protested, bringing a hand to his chest. “Nice one, you bring me back to life only to remind me that I’m dead… you’re a wicked witch, Rose Weasley!”
Rose swallowed hard. “I’m… I’m sorry, Uncle Fred,” she replied sheepishly, “you’re right, I’m—”
“Oh bloody hell, I’m joking,” he said with a laugh. “Come on, where’s your sense of humour, kid? Do you take after your mother? I mean, your dad is a fun lad, didn’t he pass some sense of humour on to you too? Or did it all go to Hugo?”
“Hey!” she snapped. “I’m fun! It’s you… you’re… you are…”
“Mean?” he supplied with a smirk.
“Yes!” she replied forcefully. “I… I didn’t expect you to be like this, to be honest,” she huffed. “Everybody is always going on and on about what a great person you were, always so nice and sweet and comprehensive.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Who? Me?” he asked. “Are you sure they weren’t talking about Teddy’s father?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, you!” she snapped. “And instead you are… so… so…”
“Callous?”
“Yes!” she protested again.
He snorted and shook his head. “Bloody hell, girl, I thought you were supposed the intelligent one. Instead I think you got your dad’s brains and your mum’s sense of humour,” he quipped. “First of all, I died when I was twenty while I was fighting in a war against the bad guys. I mean, honestly, I’m surprised that I haven’t been declared a saint yet or that they haven’t at least dedicated a ward in St Mungo’s to me…” He looked at her and grinned. “I’m not going to suggest to you to die before you turn twenty, but in case that happens, you’ll see what they say about you.” He looked her from head to toe. “First thing, probably, that you had lovely hair…”
“Great,” she muttered under her breath.
He seemed to ignore her tone. “Anyway, secondly,” he added, “you just brought me back from the dead, with a dark ritual that included blood, black candles and a cemetery on Halloween night. I mean, honestly! Hasn’t Uncle Harry ever sat you on his knee and told you the story of Voldy and the graveyard of Little Hangleton? Nothing good came from that.”
Rose gaped at him. Well, he was kind of right.
“Do you know who I’m talking about at all?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “Do they make you study Voldemort and the Second Wizarding War at school?”
“Of course I know what you’re talking about,” she huffed, “I got an O in History of Magic.”
“Congratulations,” he mocked her, “I slept through each and every single lesson. But I came up with the Daydream Charms while Binns blabbed about Giant Wars and Goblin Rebellions. And Uncle George is making piles of Galleons with those.”
It was true, Uncle George’s business was going well, had always gone well really. But still, that was no reason for Uncle Fred to mock her because she liked to study. “Yeah, well, I just didn’t expect you to be so rough,” she told him sullenly, “had I known that, I would have Summoned someone else. Maybe Great-grandma Cedrella…”
“Oh, no, no, no,” he replied, shaking his head, “she’s very old-fashioned, she would have never understood. She would have called you a tramp and looked at you with contempt for the whole night.” He flashed her a smile. “But let’s continue our game, shall we?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Actually, I’d rather tell—”
“No, no, please,” he whined, “I never get to play on the other side. Everybody is just so bloody holy. They spend all their time looking over someone, and saying how much those alive people have grown and what a pretty young lady one has turned out to be.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully and added, “I think Snape is in love with Lily, your cousin Lily, not Uncle Harry’s mum… Well, he’s still in love with her too, but he was looking over her all worriedly the other night when she was at St Mungo’s. I had to remind him that she was faking just to go to her cousin’s party… What a little troublemaker…” He pretended to wipe away some tears. “I’m so proud of her.”
Rose pushed the thought of a dead former Headmaster being in love with her little cousin. She opened her mouth to reply to him, but he continued before she could stop him, “But let’s resume our game, shall we? You are here because you’re scared that the Aurors will not accept your application, and that’s your dream job, and if they do you wouldn’t know what else to do. You don’t want to work with your mother, her job is so boring you would probably tear your hair out at the end of the day. And I don’t think that working with Uncle George would be wise, considering the state of things, and let’s face it, you’re terrible at Quidditch aren’t you?”
She stuck her nose up in the air. “I’ll have you know that Dad and Uncle Harry already accepted my Auror Application, I’ll start my training in January,” she replied dryly.
He smirked at her and an impish gleam shone in his eyes. “Oh, but they don’t know it yet, do they?” he murmured, uncrossing his legs and letting them dangle from the headstone.
She lowered her gaze, refusing to look at him in the eyes.
“Do they, Rosie?” he asked her again. “Have you told Daddy that his baby is going to have a baby?”
She raised her eyes back on him, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle it.
“Four months today,” he continued. “I know why you’re here, Rosie… I know why you’re sitting in this cemetery instead of getting drunk with your cousins at Victoire’s Halloween party…”
“They don’t know,” she finally bit out. “I haven’t told them yet.”
“No, you haven’t told anybody, have you? Not even the father,” he replied. “Oh, my dear, dear Rosie. I know why you’re here. All scared and concerned about your future and the future of your baby. Will you find a job? Will Mummy and Daddy kick you out of their house? Will they kill him for having gotten you pregnant at eighteen? Will his parents shun you for being a little trollop?”
“I—”
“Oh, I know dear, I know,” he told her softly. He looked almost loving now as he eased himself down from the headstone and walked to her, kneeling in front of her with his knee nudging the cloak half opened on the front. “It was just a one night stand gone awry, wasn’t it? He was just trying to cheer you up, he cares about you, and you didn’t read that sodding label written in such a small printing which said that the effect of the Contraceptive Potion would have been nullified by the alcohol. In hindsight, a charm would have worked much better, wouldn’t it?” He cupped her cheek and smiled at her. “And now you’re all scared. Pregnant and still a teenager, without a job and without money. You lost control of your life, didn’t you? Otherwise, let’s face it, you wouldn’t be here in a cemetery talking to the dead on Halloween night…”
She nodded and lowered her head. She wanted to cry. She would have blamed those damn pregnancy hormones for it, for now she just wanted to shed all the tears that she had tried to push back ever since she had taken that pregnancy test potion.
“I…I considered…I thought…”
He nodded, brushing away her tears from under her eyes. “You considered killing it, didn’t you?” he whispered. “I know. But you didn’t.”
She shook her head forcefully. “No, I don’t want to.”
“Of course,” he told her, looking into her eyes. “You’re not that kind of person. You’re a Weasley. That’s not what we do.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “You’re going to be a good mother.”
She sniffled out loud, she wanted to thank him for those soothing words, but somehow there was a knot in her throat that didn’t let her speak.
“Now, listen carefully, because Uncle Fred will tell you what to do,” he told her seriously, “tomorrow morning, you go and take a shower, put on some makeup to hide those nasty bags under your eyes, and go straight to him and tell him that you’re pregnant. Then you go to your parents and you do the exact same thing, after all you can use the excuse that you’ve had too much pudding only that many times once you start your second trimester. And once they’ve done screaming at you – because, believe me, there’s going to be a lot of screaming – you’ll just tell them that you’re moving out and don’t care what they say.”
“But I don’t—”
“You don’t have a place where to go nor money,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t matter, because that’s when your mother will start screaming at your father and she’ll drag you back into the house and plead you to stay. You don’t take too long to accept, Rose, before she changes her mind though, okay?”
She nodded quickly.
“And then you’ll get whatever job they throw at you,” he told her, “whatever, it doesn’t matter. Your dad will never let you join the Aurors now, but it doesn’t matter. You’re not going to work long anyway, once the baby is born you’re going to stay home and take care of him and when you come back you can apply to become an Auror again. Alright?”
She nodded again, a small smile spreading her lips.
He smiled back. “Use a good charm next time,” he reminded her. “Verity knows quite a lot of them, if you need to ask someone. And Auntie Angelina too – but don’t tell Uncle George that I said that.” He winked at her and added, “Now…”
She stared as Uncle Fred stretched a hand from under the cloak and rubbed the slight swell of her belly.
“Are you going to bless him?” she asked hopefully.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t do those things,” he replied, “that’s a prerogative of the big boss up there…” He pointed towards the sky and wiggled his eyebrows. “I can tell you that he’s going to be a heartthrob though, just like his Great-uncle Fred.”
She chuckled at his words, her tears from before almost forgotten. He was good, and after all she was glad that she had Summoned him.
He patted her hat and stood up. “Perfect,” he exclaimed. “Is that all?”
She furrowed her brow in concentration. “I guess,” she replied, “yes, I think so, Uncle Fred. Thank you. I feel much better now.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “You living people, always messing up stuff and then ask for our help…”
She smiled at his words. “Thank you, Uncle Fred. Now, to send you back all I have to—”
“Send me back?” he asked her surprised. “Oh my dear, dear Rosie, you’re not sending me back without a treat are you?”
Her eyes widened at the news. “A treat?” she asked unsurely.
He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. “Book,” he ordered.
She waited for the book to do something, but nothing happened.
“No,” pointed out Uncle Fred, “it’s not going to fly into my hands. You take the book and open it. Come on, page 348.”
She did as she was told, opening the tome on said page.
“Read out loud,” he told her calmly.
She furrowed her brow. “There’s nothing here,” she complained.
He rolled his eyes again, walking up to her and pointing to a minuscule writing scriptum at the bottom of an empty page. “This one,” he told her, “dear Merlin, Rosie, I think you need to get yourself a pair of glasses. Maybe you’re a bit short-sighted, just like Uncle Percy…”
“I see perfectly well,” she replied haughtily, “it’s just that everything is so bloody small.” She brought the book closer to her face and narrowed her eyes. Oh bloody hell, there was a step 6 to that ritual.
“Out loud,” instructed Uncle Fred, standing up again.
“Step 6,” she read, “always, always, always bring a treat to the Summoned loved one. Misfortune will befall you, if you don’t.”
“Marvellous,” he exclaimed, stretching a hand towards her, “I suppose that’s where the tradition of trick or treating comes from. So, you better hand me my treat, dear, unless you want me to pull a trick on you…”
She gnawed on her bottom lip. She didn’t have a treat. She didn’t have anything with her except the candles, the book, the picture and the needles. Would he have wanted any of those things? Somehow, she hardly thought so…
“Hem… Uncle Fred… I’m afraid I don’t…”
His hand fell to his side as he looked at her seriously. “You don’t have anything?” he asked her flatly.
She shook her head, then an idea popped into her mind. She stood and smiled reassuringly at him. “You know what?” she asked almost excitedly. “I’ll go and get you something from the Burrow, honestly it’s just down that way, it’ll take me a minute, and then I’ll come back and you’ll have your treat. Actually, what would you like me to get you? Chocolate? Some money? Can you bring them to the other side?”
He cocked his head as he looked at her. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asked her softly.
“Well, no…”
“You can’t get out of the circle,” he told her, nodding towards the flickering candles, “or was this supposed to be a star? Anyway, you’re in here with me until you give me a treat.”
“What?” she snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous!” She snapped the book close and strode towards the circle. She took a deep breath and raised her chin as she walked through it.
Instead she didn’t walk through anything at all. She just bumped against something hard and invisible and fell back, almost going straight to the ground if Uncle Fred hadn’t caught her.
“See?” he whispered in her ear. “Stuck in here with me.”
She let out a whine of frustration as she tried to wriggle free from her uncle’s hands. He didn’t let her go, though, au contraire he slid an arm on her belly and brought his big nose into her ear, inhaling deeply. “If you really want to get out of here,” he whispered to her, “there is a treat that you can give me.”
She felt goose bumps cover her skin as he moved the hat away to breathe against her scalp. She finally wiggled free of his grasp and turned to look at him, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Well, don’t look at me like that,” he added calmly, “I’m a horny twenty-year-old who has spent the past twenty-six years spying on his various siblings having sex without getting any.” His eyes travelled over her body. “And you’re cute, Rosie, even when you’re wearing that ridiculous dress. What are you supposed to be anyway?”
She looked down at her black dress and lacy bodice, shuffling her pump-covered feet on the ground. “I’m a witch!” she protested. “I mean, I’m what Muggles think witches look like… I thought… I thought it would be funny. It was a joke.”
He chuckled at her. “So you have a sense of humour,” he murmured, “I like that in a woman.”
She looked at him, lips pressed together tightly. “You’re my uncle,” she pointed out firmly.
“Incest?” he asked in her disbelief. “Is that your excuse? Really?”
She bit her bottom lip. Probably not. “You’re my dead uncle,” she clarified.
He opened his arms and flashed her a smile. “So? Even better, right? I can’t get you pregnant,” he laughed. “Not that I could anyway, since you already have a bun in the oven.”
“But you’re old!” she protested.
“Hey! Little brat!” he snapped. “I’m only two years older than you!”
“You’re forty-six,” she informed him, “like Uncle George.”
He flared his nostrils at her, then, with a swift movement, he unfastened her cloak from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. “Like Uncle George?” he asked. “Does Uncle George look anything like me?” He curved his arms near his head, doing all the silly poses that those wizards on a Playwitch magazine would use.
She swallowed hard as her eyes roamed over his muscled body. Nope. She’d never seen Uncle George naked, but she had seen him wearing swimming trunks at Shell Cottage and nope… he didn’t look anything like that. Uncle George’s belly was a bit flabby and it moved around when he ran into the water. And Uncle George’s hair was thinning over the top of his head and he was missing an ear…
“Well?”
She tried to keep her eyes on his face, despite wanting to make them wander a bit more and a bit more south on his body. “Well, no, you don’t look like Uncle George,” she almost snapped.
“I look better.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do,” she muttered.
“You think I’m good looking.”
She swallowed. She did, and she thought that he knew, just like he seemed to know everything about her. Like he had teased her for the whole night with that stupid guessing game of his. “I think,” she started, “that you’re not bad looking.”
He chuckled. “I haven’t had sex in a long, long, long time,” he let her know, “I promise I’ll make it good to you too, Rosie. You’re going to love it. Forget the night you got pregnant, that’s nothing. You’ll ask him to make love to you like this every night.” He brought his hand to his groin and closed his fingers over his half-erect member.
She shifted her weight on her feet, denting her bottom lip even more with her teeth. He was good looking and she was… well, first of all, those pregnancy hormones made her horny as hell! She had spent more nights touching herself than not. And she was mildly attracted to him… Merlin! What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have been attracted to the members of her family! But somehow she was, and he was right, it was not exactly as if he could get her pregnant… And it was just a one-time thing, there weren’t even going to be any strings attached. He was dead, after all… and bloody hell! She didn’t want to spend all eternity inside that circle with her dead uncle!
“So?” he asked her, and she startled at how close his voice was coming from. She looked up and met his eyes, his nose only a few inches from hers. “Want to have a spot of fun?”
She didn’t want to reply and admit that she did want that, but somehow she didn’t need to talk. He chuckled quietly and nodded at her. Then his hands were on her waist, his long fingers tapping her hip gently. “You smell so good,” he murmured to her as he brought his head closer to hers. “You smell like family…”
He brought his lips to hers and Rose closed her eyes as he slid his hands on the small of her back.
Weirdly enough, he was gentle and he was warm. Not that she had expected him to be as cold as a corpse, really, he had looked rather alive for the whole time he was there, and he had touched her face and he was soft. She had almost forgotten that he wasn’t alive…
He licked the seam of her lips and she parted them to let him slide his tongue into her mouth. He smiled – or did he smirk? – and she could feel his half-hard member push against her lower abdomen as he pulled her closer.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she let out a little moan as he wriggled his hips a little, rubbing his growing erection all over her stomach. She gasped when he pushed a bit more insistently against her.
He tilted his head back and chuckled softly. “You like it,” he murmured, “you’re a horny teenager, just like your dad was at your age…”
She swallowed and felt a blush creep down her neck. “I think it must be the pregnancy hormones,” she told him, her voice rather shaky.
He laughed again, and as he did his hand slid over the curve of her arse and between her buttocks. She let out a soft squeal, but his arms were tight around her. “Relax,” he muttered into her hair, “I’m not going to hurt you or your baby.”
Her breathing was shallow as she felt him gather her dress up around her hips, keeping it there with one hand while he played with the hem of her knickers with the other.
She grasped his upper arms, they were smooth and hard and warm, and they seemed to be shaking a little as well. If it was for the fact that he was hugging her tightly or because he was still pushing his erection against her, she didn’t know.
She squirmed again when his fingers slipped inside her knickers, pinching her buttock and worming their way between her cheeks. “Uncle Fred…”
He withdrew his hand and spanked her playfully over her underwear. “Too fast?” he asked her, sliding his arms from around her. “Sorry, Rosie,” he whispered, “let’s get you nice and ready first, shall we?”
He grasped her hand and guided her towards the cloak. “Down,” he told her, “on your back, come on, like a good girl.”
He helped her as she sat down, and stared at her with his blue eyes shining with mischief as she lay back. “Hmm,” he hummed, “you know what? I haven’t seen a naked woman in longer than you can imagine. Verity was always half dressed when I pushed her against those uncomfortable shelves.”
She bit her bottom lip. “It’s cold,” she protested weakly.
“You’re a witch for Merlin’s beard, cast a Warming Charm,” he growled. “And I like what the cold does to a girl’s tits anyway.”
Rose shifted uncomfortably under his stare, but she had run out of excuses. She would have been more comfortable anyway without the lace chafing her sides and the skirt all bobbed up under her back. She grasped her dress around her waist and made to pull it up, but his hands covered hers and he stopped her.
“I’ll do it,” he murmured, kneeling in front of her.
She nodded softly, feeling his knuckles against her sides as he slid it gently up her body. She raised her arms and felt her witch hat being knocked off from her curls as he tugged the dress over her head.
He threw her clothes to the ground, and Rose’s cheeks felt on fire as she saw him looking at her.
“Damn, you’re pretty,” he murmured, before lowering his eyes on her belly and chuckling. “Honestly, your dad hasn’t noticed the bump yet? Is he blind? Maybe you all need glasses in that family.”
She brought her hands to her belly, suddenly self-conscious. “Grandma Molly’s jumpers help,” she murmured.
“Merlin, they are lovely and warm, aren’t they?” he grinned. “Lie back,” he added, his voice suddenly throaty, “take off your bra and lie back.”
She brought her shaky hands to her back and unclasped the plain white bra that was becoming more and more uncomfortable with every day that passed. Her breasts spilled out and she brought an arm over them to cover her nipples. They were already puckering in the cold air of the night.
“Lie down,” he repeated.
She did and stared at him as he grabbed her ankles and moved her legs apart, his eyes trained between her legs. She tried to close them again, but he just pushed her knees away. She was excited and she was sure there was a wet patch of arousal on her knickers already.
“Now, none of that,” he murmured, “you’re bloody gorgeous and you smell divine.” He chuckled softly, as he brought a hand between her legs, his finger pushing against her clit and very probably getting the fabric even more soaked. “And trust me, I know what divine smells like.”
She bit her bottom lip to stifle a groan, and Uncle Fred’s eyes darkened with lust at the sound. He hooked his fingers in the elastic band of her knickers and finally looked up at her as he brought them down her legs, over her ankles and off her feet. She shivered as the air brushed gently over her mound and she tried to close her legs again, but Uncle Fred’s hands slid on the inside of her thighs, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind them.
She stared at him without being able to breathe as he lay on his stomach between her legs and glanced up at her with a smirk. “You’re going to enjoy this,” he murmured, “that little brat Malfoy never did this for you, did he?”
She shook her head jerkily and widened her eyes as he lowered his mouth on her folds. He parted his lips and stared up at her as he licked all the way up to her clit with the flat of his tongue.
“Ah!” she cried out, her hands grasping the cloak underneath her.
He chuckled against her folds and the vibration made her gasp. “You taste so good,” he muttered, “so good…” His words trailed away as he finally focused on the task in front of him.
And Merlin! He was good.
His tongue was lapping in all the right places, his lips were sucking and driving her mad with arousal. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter as she imagined her uncle’s face being covered in all her juices.
She let out a soft cry, as he pushed his tongue inside of her, caressing her fluttering walls as if he could reach places where no inexperienced boy had ever gone before.
She groaned and pushed her feet on the ground, trying to get away from that pleasure, which seemed to be entirely too much or not enough for her. He didn’t let her though, his hands let her thighs go and wormed their way to her lower abdomen, pushing gently on the swell there.
“Stay,” he growled against her folds. But then he took her clit between his lips and startled suckling on it, and she was sure that he was smirking as she tried to sit up and grasp his hair as she cried out.
Her legs shook near his face and he just sucked more forcefully, surely wanting to torture her. Oh, but it was a torture so sweet. So sweet she could feel her fingers go numb and her muscles tense, and she was vaguely aware of her legs pushing against his head and then she wasn’t aware of anything at all as he tipped her over the edge.
She just raised her bottom from the ground to push herself against his greedy mouth as her shoulders fell back on the cloak once again, all her muscles had become like stone and then gone to jelly, and now she just stared helplessly as her knees fell apart and Uncle Fred leaned his chin against her lower abdomen.
He grinned up at her, his lips and chin shining in the light of the candles. He seemed ready to tell her something, anything, but he didn’t. Instead he kissed his way to her navel, licking it thoroughly and then descending past the swell and towards her breasts.
She finally let her head fall back to the ground along with a soft laugh.
“You liked it,” murmured Uncle Fred, “little minx, being all shy and hesitant and look at you now…” She closed her eyes as she felt his erection pressing against her thigh, his stomach brushing against her baby bump, his lips fastening on her nipple.
She stretched her arms over her head and then brought a hand down to caress his flaming locks. They were soft, and there was a leaf sticking out from amongst them. And she was still swimming in bliss as he leaned on top of her and pushed his erection against her clit.
She snapped her eyes open and looked at him. Her hands going to his chest. “Not like this,” she murmured urgently, “the baby…”
He lowered his head to kiss her. “You’re right,” he told her, raising to his knees. “Come on, hands and knees, Rosie. Like a good little girl.”
She let out a sigh. Her legs and arms still felt like goo, and she was pretty sure that she would have fallen face first into the cloak if she tried to get on all fours. Probably his hands on her hips would have been the only things keeping her up.
“Come on,” he repeated, stretching a hand to her.
She took it and let him manoeuvre her onto her hands and knees, just like he wanted. She could feel her muscles still trembling though and the little rocks under the cloak pushed disagreeably into her knees.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured in his ear, “I’m going to hold you.” He grasped her hip with a big hand and she felt the tip of his erection brush against her sensitive folds.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the feeling of his thighs against hers, of his erection pressed between her legs, of his fingers dunking in her hip.
He moved back and then pushed forward and she bit her bottom lip to stifle a groan as the head of his erection entered her slowly.
He moaned out loud. “You’re so wet, Rosie,” he groaned, “so tight, so warm…” He thrust forward, slowly, stopping every so often to let her get used to the stretch, but he was right, she was wet, and her body was pliant now that he had already made her come once, and she welcomed his erection as if she had been waiting for it for her whole life. When his balls rested on her slick labia she mewled and closed her eyes, feeling her arms starting to give way under her.
“Merlin, you feel good,” he murmured.
She wanted to tell him that he felt good too, but she couldn’t find her voice when he started to pull out of her, teasingly slow, and before he was almost completely out, he pushed back in, until his pelvis was once against nestled against the curve of her arse.
“Yes,” he gasped as she moaned.
He brought both hands to her hips and pulled out again before pushing in once more. And then again. And again. And then he was picking up pace and finally driving into her wildly and it was so good, so good that nothing mattered anymore but the lewd sounds of their mating and his hands all over her.
He panted and she felt his chest lean against her back and for a moment she thought she would have collapsed to the ground with Uncle Fred on top of her, but he had promised not to hurt her nor her baby and she knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he slid his hand over her shoulder and closed it around her neck.
She opened her eyes as she felt him guide her backwards, against his chest. She brought her hands to his and tried to gasp down a bit of air, her bottom resting against his pelvis.
“Does it feel good?” he whispered lustfully in her ear, his warm breath washing against her skin. “Does it, Rosie?” He thrust into her a couple of times, leaning his cheek against hers.
She nodded, trying hard to ride him despite her sore thighs. She clenched her walls around him and he slid an arm under her breasts, pulling her flat against him. “Yes,” he groaned, pushing up to meet her again and again. “Was it like this? Was it like this with Freddie? Did he fuck you like this?”
She wanted to scream that no, nobody had ever fucked her like he that. Not even Fred, not even when he got her pregnant. But she couldn’t utter a word, his hand was grasping her throat and her eyelids were dropping again.
“Or were you too drunk to remember?” he asked again, his breath caressing the shell of her ear. “Are you going to remember this? Are you going to remember this forever?”
She tried to buck against him, but he didn’t let her. Instead he let her throat go and brought both hands to her breasts, and then and only then did he start to drive into her with a punishing tempo.
Now the slapping of his skin against her and the squelching sounds of his erection between her dripping folds and his panting in her ear were all she could hear. Her whole world narrowed to that moment in time.
And then she was coming again, her hands searched for leverage on her uncle’s forearms and she opened her mouth to scream, but no sound issued past her lips. She gasped as her walls fluttered around him, as her toes curled on the ground, as her thighs trembled again and her back arched.
“Fuck!” he finally groaned. Then she could feel him pulsing inside of her and then she closed her eyes and she was falling to the ground with Uncle Fred still secured around her and his mouth on her ear, calling her name, “Rose, Rosie, Rosie, Rose…”
***
“Rose! Rose! Rosie!”
Rose’s eyelids fluttered open as the high-pitched voice called her name over and over again. She took a deep breath and brought her legs to her chest, curling up in a ball and cocooning the cloak tightly around herself. She only raised her eyes to look at her cousin when she called her again. Rose stretched her muscles a little, she was sore and it wasn’t because she had slept on the ground that night.
“Lily,” she whispered.
Lily crossed her legs and sat next to her. “What happened?” she asked, looking intently at her. “I thought you said you would come to the party and then to the Burrow to sleep. Did you sleep here?”
She nodded and brought a hand to her back, feeling the dents of the little rocks she had slept on. “Hmm, I did,” she replied, rubbing her cold toes together.
Lily swallowed. “Did you do the ritual?” she asked softly.
She nodded, her curls tickling her forehead.
“And?” she whispered in awe. “Did it work?”
She nodded again, a languid smile tugging her lips.
“And?” asked Lily, hazel eyes wide with expectation.
“And he said that you’re going to get ten N.E.W.T.’s,” she let her know.
Lily’s grin split her face into two. “Ten?” she exclaimed. “That’s more than James and Albus!”
Rose nodded and yawned. “More than James and Albus put together, probably,” she agreed. She stretched her arms over her head and regretted it when the icy air of that November morning caressed her overheated skin. She pushed them back inside the cloak.
“Hmm, Lily…” she hummed softly. “Would you pass me my clothes?”
Lily cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you naked?”
Rose nodded quietly.
“Why are you naked?”
“I’d tell you,” she yawned, “but then I would have to Obliviate you.”
Lily shook her head and rolled her eyes at the joke as she Summoned Rose’s clothes and handed them to her. “Let’s go, Grandma is waiting for us for breakfast.”
She struggled to cover herself with the cloak as she wore the dress. “I can’t,” she told her, “I need to go and take a shower and then I’m off to see Fred.” Her stomach grumbled in protest at her words. Maybe a quick breakfast… she was eating for two after all…
“Fred?” asked Lily, cocking an eyebrow questioningly. “Really? Why? He was asking after you last night, by the way…”
Rose smiled softly. “Was he?” she asked softly. Finally she managed to wear the dress herself and pushed her hands on the ground to stand up, her muscles screamed at her, but she ignored them in favour of looking for her wand and collecting all her belongings.
“So, how’s Uncle Fred?” asked Lily as Rose stuffed the last of the candles in the handbag.
“He’s cool,” she replied lightly, “not the saint that Grandma says he was, by the way.”
“Really?” questioned Lily as she linked her arm with Rose’s.
“Yeah,” she confirmed, as they made their way towards the Burrow. “He’s more like what your dad used to say about the Marauders or of Uncle George before the war…”
“He sounds cool.” She smiled and added, “Maybe next year, I’ll Summon him. Just to chat a little… ask him what N.E.W.T.’s I’ll get and stuff…”
Rose flashed her smile. “I think he’d like that very much, Lily. And maybe I’ll join you, you know… just to say hello…”
“Wicked,” grinned Lily.
Rose nodded as she cast an askew glance at Uncle Fred’s tomb. “I’m sure it’ll be wicked,” she assured her.
Wonderfully wicked.
