"Wotcher, Harry!" she called out as she gave him a wink before she quickly went back to cooking while trying to not make more of a mess. "You've been living off toast and tea again, haven't you?"
Harry leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with an amused expression on his face. "I do know how to cook, Nym. Better than you, in fact. Whatever you might think, I haven't been surviving on takeaway and charm-heated meals."
"Could've fooled me," she replied, trying to rescue the bacon before it could burn. "Last time I was here, this kitchen looked like it belonged to a first-year bachelor Auror trainee. Speaking of which, you wouldn't believe the new batch we've got. Makes us look like we were absolutely brilliant in comparison."
Chuckling, Harry moved to help her, giving her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek in greeting. Soon, he began expertly navigating around her occasional bouts of clumsiness as they worked together to prepare breakfast. It had become a comfortable routine on their shared days off, with Nym appearing with stories from the Auror office, while Harry provided a willing ear and occasionally shared the less classified aspects of his own work.
"Go on then," Harry said as they settled at the kitchen table, their plates loaded with bacon, eggs, and toast. "What did this batch do? Can't be worse than the time you nearly blew up the training room trying to demonstrate proper blasting curse technique."
Nym pointed her fork at him accusingly, her hair shifting to a defensive pink. "That was one time, and Moody said my form was acceptable. That's big praise from him, by the way. And it was the dummy that was defective." She took a bite of eggs before she continued, "But this lot... Merlin's pants, Harry. We had them practicing concealment charms yesterday. One of them managed to make himself invisible alright, except he did it with his clothes. Stood there starkers and didn't even realize for a good five minutes why everyone was laughing."
Harry almost choked on his tea at the image, slowly putting the cup back on the table. "Remind me again why you became a training instructor?"
"Because watching the new recruits mess up makes me feel better about my own disasters," she said cheerfully, making him roll his eyes fondly. "Besides, someone's got to teach them proper techniques. Can't all be mysterious Unspeakables who get to play with time and souls all day. Speaking of time and souls, how's the latest project coming along? Still trying to unravel the mysteries of time travel and soul magic?"
Harry took a bite of perfectly crispy bacon. "You know I can't talk about that. Official secrets and all that. Just telling you what I'm working on is pushing it."
There was no reproach in his tone though. Nym was the only one who knew even the general outline of his work, and he trusted her discretion implicitly.
"Please," Nym rolled her eyes, her hair flickering briefly to match the exact shade of his own black locks. "As if half the Department doesn't already know I'm your unofficial sounding board. Besides, what's the point of having a best friend and a former FWB in the Auror office if you can't occasionally bend the rules about classified information?"
"That was a long time ago," Harry said dryly.
"Don't act as if you haven't been wanting a repeat of those nights," Nym smirked as she leaned forward, enlarging her tits in that tank top she was wearing. Harry could not help but take a long, appreciative glance at her massive cleavage, and judging by the proud smirk on her face, she was loving the attention.
"The point," Harry replied dryly, trying to move away from the topic before they descended deeper into it, "is having someone to bail me out when an experiment goes wrong and I accidentally turn myself into a talking bird." He paused, and then added, "Again."
Nym rolled her eyes as she reverted her tits to normal, pointing the fork at him once again. "That was ONE time! And you made an adorable eagle, even if you did keep flying around like a jet and trying to drill a hole through the stone."
"Poking, more like," he muttered.
Nym let out a laugh, and Harry could not help but join in. Her personality was contagious, and he was truly grateful for her continued presence in his life.
These morning conversations had become a cherished ritual over the years, a chance for both of them to shed their professional personas and simply be Harry and Nym—two people who'd seen too much, lost too much, but found in each other a strong bond. It had been coming, truly, the first time they had slept together. None had truly planned on it, but a few old memories over a bottle of firewhiskey had loosened their inhibitions to the point where they had simply given in to their instincts and pounced on each other, consequences be damned.
What followed was a weekend of nothing but pure, carnal sex as Nym demonstrated her unique metamorphic abilities on him in the bedroom while Harry brought her the most intense climaxes of her life.
Almost a year had passed since that weekend, and although they had followed up on it over the next few weekends, Harry had slowly pulled away. He knew Nym was not ready for a relationship back then, and he did not think he could keep it up anymore without truly being with her.
His feelings for the woman had not diminished in the slightest, and over the past year, he had thought several times to ask her out. However, the appropriate moment never seemed to present itself.
Furthermore, they both were too occupied with their respective work to give a proper relationship a go, and even though Nym had asked him multiple times to have some fun, he simply could not bring himself to do it without truly being in a relationship with her. Nym understood, even though she kept trying to tempt him.
"Actually," Harry said after they'd made considerable progress through breakfast, shaking his head to clear off those thoughts, "there is something I've been working on that I'd like your involvement in. From a professional perspective," he added quickly, seeing her eyes light up suggestively. "It's related to Auror training protocols."
"Well, I guess I can help you out with whatever it is," Nym said dryly before she leaned forward, her hair shifting to a more serious navy blue. "What kind of protocols are we talking about?"
"The defensive ones, specifically. I've been studying the magical theory behind Shield Charms, trying to understand why some people can produce them instinctively in moments of crisis while others struggle even with proper training." Harry's eyes took on the intense focus that appeared whenever he discussed his work. "I have a theory that it's connected to the same principle that allows mothers to protect their children, like..." he trailed off, but Nym nodded in understanding.
"Like your mum did for you," she finished softly. "You think love plays a role in defensive magic?"
"Not just love," Harry explained, warming to the topic. "Intent. Emotional investment. The profound desire to protect something or someone valuable to you. I think we might be teaching Shield Charms wrong, focusing too much on the mechanical aspects and not enough on the emotional core of the magic."
Nym considered this as she absently transitioned her hair through various colors. "That... actually makes a lot of sense. It would explain why Aurors often perform better in real situations protecting civilians than they do in training exercises."
"That's fascinating!" Harry remarked, grabbing their plates and wandlessly cleaning them up. As he set them up on the rack, Nym stood up and clapped her hands.
"Come on then, show me what you're working on today. Promise I won't tell anyone about your secret time machine or whatever it is."
"It's not a time machine," Harry rolled his eyes as he led the way.
His study was a room that would have made Hermione proud, although perhaps also slightly concerned. Books lined every wall and various magical instruments whirred and puffed on every available surface, some recognizable as more elaborate versions of the devices that had once filled Dumbledore's office, while others were completely mysterious in their purpose. A large blackboard covered one wall, covered in complex arithmantic equations and diagrams that seemed to shift slightly when viewed from different angles.
"Don't touch anything," Harry warned automatically as Nym entered behind him. "Some of these experiments are in rather delicate stages."
"You say that every time," Nym replied, making her way to what had become her unofficial observation spot – a comfortable armchair in the corner that offered a good view of Harry's main workbench. "And yet you've never actually stopped me from looking around."
Harry smiled as he began gathering materials from various shelves. "That's because you're one of the few people I trust to understand the difference between looking and touching. Besides," he added with a slight smirk, "after the Singing Salamander incident, I think you learned your lesson."
"We agreed never to speak of that again," Nym pointed accusingly, though her hair flickered through amused shades of pink. "But yes, point taken. Now, show me what you've been working on."
"Technically, I'm not supposed to show you any of this," he said, more out of habit than actual concern as he began activating the various privacy wards around the room. "Department regulations are very clear about—"
"About unauthorized personnel and classified research, yeah, yeah," Nym finished for him, dropping into his armchair with familiar ease. "Good thing I'm not unauthorized personnel—I'm your best girl who also happens to be a highly trained Auror with top-level security clearance. Still, who am I going to tell? The recruits? They're still trying to figure out which end of the wand to hold."
Harry shook his head with a smile as he began to explain his latest research, laying out diagrams and demonstrating experimental charm variations. Nym watched with genuine interest as he checked various readings and adjusted delicate silver instruments, occasionally asking questions which he was happy to answer.
As they continued, Harry felt a profound sense of gratitude for these moments. In the aftermath of the war, when everyone else had expected him to continue being their savior and their hero, Nym had been one of the few who simply let him be Harry. Their relationship, both as friends and more, had become one of the most coveted aspects of his life that he cherished beyond all else, and it kept him grounded as he went about his life.
"You know," she said after a while, her tone unusually thoughtful, "I reckon this suits you better than being an Auror would have. You've got that look about you now – like you're exactly where you're supposed to be."
Harry paused in his work, looking at her thoughtfully. She had a small smile on her face that was a rare sight in itself, but something told him there was a deeper meaning behind this one.
"I think you're right," he said quietly. "It's not the life anyone expected me to have, but..."
"But it's yours," Nym finished for him with an understanding smile on her face. "Only you have the right to decide how you spend your life. Doing what you really want… that's the best way to live your life."
Harry stared at her for a long moment, his eyes searching her features before he turned back to his work, missing how Nym gave him a gentle smile before she began looking around. Her fingers hovered over various instruments scattered around his office before she came to a stop at his desk where she saw a small crystalline sphere on a stand. Its surface swirled with opalescent mists that seemed to pulse, and it felt as if it was alive.
"What's this one then?" she asked as her hair shifted to a shade of violet that matched the sphere's ethereal glow. "Looks a bit like a remembrall, but more... alive somehow."
Harry glanced up from his notes, his eyes falling on the artifact, and a small smile emerged on his face. "That's the Tempus Anima Sphere. It's designed to temporarily restore a person to the moment their magic fully matured – usually around eighteen. We're studying how magical cores develop and stabilize." He walked over to stand beside her, reaching out to pick the sphere up. "The theory is that understanding that critical point of magical maturation could help us develop better therapeutic techniques for magical trauma."
"Eighteen, eh?" Nym mused, her fingers unconsciously reaching toward the sphere. Harry allowed her to grab hold of it. "That was a good year for me. Finally settled on being an Auror after getting the OWLs I needed, especially to get into Snape's Potions class, still clumsy as a drunk hippogriff but finally starting to feel like I belonged somewhere."
"Be careful with that," Harry warned as Nym held it up between them. "It's still experimental. We haven't quite worked out all the details yet."
"Don't worry," Nym rolled her eyes. "I'm perfectly—"
TBC.
Visit patreon.com/TheBlackEarl to read all my fics a few months in advance.
Meanwhile, check out my other fics if you haven't yet. Cheers!