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Part 2 of Gallant Gryffindor Galore
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2023-07-24
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2023-08-16
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Under Ra's Sun, My Love Shone

Summary:

Apprentice Evanthe Potter tried to keep herself busy with her new assignment but how could she when Master Curse Breaker Bill Weasley wouldn't stop teasing her?

Notes:

The events of this story take place three years after Hogwarts Battle in Luxor-Egypt

Amun Ra: The Chief Deity in Ancient Egypt.
Isis: Goddess of Healing & Magic.
Osiris: Isis' husband. The God of Fertility, Afterlife and Resurrection.
Taweret: Goddess of Childbirth. She plays a role in the rebirth of the dead.
Anubis: God of Funerary Rites and Guide to the Underworld.

Enjoy💛

Chapter 1: Hatshepsut's Ring

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The sun had started baking early across the sky, delivering a scorching promise of the day ahead.

Worshipful hands of light caressed the Valley of the Kings almost lovingly then spread directly to the city of Luxor on the other side

In summer, the sun lingered until at least nine o’clock, illuminating a wealth of magic and mystery only a few were lucky enough to unravel. 

An abundance of tombs, monuments, temples, and ruins scored the landscape, whispering long-lost secrets and inciting Historians, Treasure Hunters and Curse Breakers to look for more and unveil yet another puzzle buried deep under the golden sand.

Evanthe Potter basked in the warmth of the new day as her ravenous eyes absorbed the scenery.

Tucked into the cliffs of Deir el Bahri, beneath the peak of El Qurm with a series of terraces leading up to the main entrance, Hatshesput’s sprawling Mortuary Temple stood proud. Its walls were decorated with reliefs depicting scenes from the powerful Queen’s life and reign.

Evanthe closed her eyes and heard whispers from times of old, prayers of Priests as they performed their rituals and ensured the dead were safe and cared for in the afterlife.

She did not doubt that Osiris ensured their safe passage for he would never harm a child of his beloved Isis; the Goddess of Magic.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She shuddered as the husky voice washed over her senses.

His voice was of such full rich timbre that even the most trivial words acquired a new significance, a mysterious grace that commanded attention. 

Evanthe felt the same inexplicable flourish of warmth and happiness she experienced whenever they were together.

A kaleidoscope filled her eyes when she opened them, swirls of gold, red, and blue. 

“It is,” she mumbled cheeks on fire, looking anywhere but at the wizard standing close enough for her to detect the scents of male exertion and warm skin.

Her traitorous eyes went to his lips and they curved ever so slightly.

Her gaze moved upward lingering on the silky, red strands, woven from the hottest fire and swaying teasingly over his broad shoulders.

Her fingers twitched with the need to sink in the glorious mane and find out if it was as soft as it looked.

Her throat cinched around a quick breath when she saw the glitter of the several earrings in his left ear. 

Gone was the dragon fang with all the memories it carried.

Several new pieces dangled from the lobe, helix, daith and rook of his ear. She didn’t need to ask to know that each piece stashed a different story.

As a Master Curse Breaker, Bill Weasley was well-versed in Ancient Civilizations and Olde Magiks. 

From what little she gathered, piercings symbolized elitism, virility and courage; you had to earn each piece so you could carry it with dignity and pride. 

“We’re almost where we need to be,” he sighed and looped an arm around her stiff shoulders.

When he moved, his half-opened cotton shirt shifted. Evanthe saw several scars marring his muscular chest. 

A ripple of nervousness went through her leaving an unfamiliar heat in its wake. The scars from his encounter with Fenrir Greyback didn’t dwindle his male appeal; instead, they enhanced it.

“Are you ready for this adventure, Apprentice Potter?” Bill gave her an enticing wink.

Evanthe took a deep breath and nodded.

He gave her a pat on the back and moved with the swift grace of a cat. He made sure that there were no Muggles around before he retrieved his wand.

There was a distinctive ease in his movements. His strides didn’t measure out distance so much as flow over it like water.

Evanthe followed carefully knowing the sort of traps Ancient Egyptians were renowned for.

Muggles didn’t know the half of it.

While their minds were yet to process the marvels Ancient Egyptians left behind, Wixen were lucky enough to learn that there was more, so much more to what Ancient Egypt’s consummate Wixen left under the rich soil of the Nile Valley and Delta.

She couldn’t be more grateful for following her heart and doing what she dreamed of since her fourth year, since the day she met Bill Weasley.

He called to her in a way that she could never have expected from a guy. The very first time their eyes met she had felt it—that strange current of awareness running through her.

She had been young and innocent then, she imputed that to his oozing charm and easy-going nature. 

But there was more to that.

As she watched him flirt and then get engaged to Fleur Delacour, she lost herself to her own bitter, silent grief to the point of feeling her heart shatter into tiny pieces.

Hermione and Ginny had stared at her closely; more than a little surprised by her revelation then took her in a comforting hug.

Ginny gave him a clear-eyed stare, not pitying, not censorious, just … thoughtful. “You never know,” she said sincerely. “They didn’t bond yet. And then he seems….‘’ The redhead broke off abruptly, shook her head and shrugged.

Evanthe waved her words off.

What no one had expected was for Bill to announce he had broken up with his fiancée.

He remained tight-lipped when everyone asked about the reason.

Even Mrs Weasley’s tears, threats and screeches didn’t weaken his resolution to keep whatever happened between him and Fleur a private matter.

After the war, Evanthe decided to finish her seventh year and apply for an Apprenticeship in Gringotts.

It was—unsurprisingly—her luck that made Sharptooth assign Master Curse Breaker Bill Weasley as her superior. “You are quite familiar with Master Weasley,” the impudent Goblin’s lips twitched with blatant mockery. “And then, you seem irresistibly attracted to his dashing good looks. Take this opportunity to get over your infatuation once and for all or…” His words hovered in the air as he tsked and left.

She swore she heard him mutter under his breath. “Weaklings. Why doesn't she take what she wants? Was it a female Goblin…”

She had been too astonished to react.

With a sigh, Bill touched her shoulder. “Evanthe, are you alright?”

“Yes,” she swallowed. ‘’I’m just excited.” She was hopelessly enchanted by his smile.

“You have every right to be proud of your accomplishments. You worked diligently under my tutelage for two years and look where you are now."

She drew a trembling breath when his hand passed gently over her head. She felt his warm breath brush the edge of her ear and lowered her gaze.

“Thank you,” she said, scarcely able to speak.

“Now, let’s tackle this treasure and show these bloody Goblins why we are the best Curse Breakers Gringotts had ever seen.”

Evanthe grinned and trudged behind him. She stared ahead at the numerous reliefs depicting the life of Queen Hatshepsut.

She wasn’t solely the Great Royal Wife of Pharaoh Thutmosis II, she was the Greatest Queen Ancient Egypt had known and the first female Pharaoh to rule.

She was also a daughter of Amun and an accomplished Sorceress. The ancient Papyrus they were handed to decipher confirmed that her tomb wasn’t thoughtfully explored.

One last secret remained hidden; one secret that led them to this adventure.

Even though her body was buried in the Valley of the Kings, her most marvellous creation lay hidden under sundry wards and enchantments. Ones they intended to break.

“We’re almost at the centre of the Holy of Holies, we’ll find what we seek in the Burial Chamber,” Bill took covert glances at the end of the corridor as he muttered under his breath.

His wand arm moved in sync with his lips while he looked for traps. His eyes flashed bright blue and his lips curled up in a tinge of smirk.

Evanthe knew how much he preferred working in the field to dealing with papers and annoying customers in the confinement of Gringotts’ walls.

A year after the war, he asked to be assigned to his previous post in Egypt. 

“We should demand an exorbitant price for the ring,” she scrutinized the walls. “This customer must be head over heels in love to ask for Hatshepsut’s ring for his beloved.”

For a moment, she was ensnared by a statue of the Goddess Isis as she stood lit by the flickering flame of a tiny clay lamp. An offering of blue and white lotus flowers had been left at her feet, along with a merry spray of red nightshade berries.

In one hand the Goddess of the Throne clutched an Ankh, the symbol of everlasting life, and she wore a black crown shaped like a throne. Her dress was painted a bright red, the colour of blood and sacrifice, and upon her head was a gold vulture headdress.

Hatshepsut was looking at her with longing as if she knew beforehand that when she would become a Great Royal Wife, she would be crowned with the same headdress and her ties to the Mother Goddess would be further strengthened if she bore Thut’s son

She heard Bill mutter something under his breath and her gaze locked with his in a long, fascinated stare. 

There was something in his eyes as he regarded her in that way; something that made her remember happiness from a long time ago, one she had never experienced.

She didn’t want to feel it fearing it might vanish as soon as she claimed it as her own.

And yet the giddy warmth kept washing over her for no reason whatsoever.

He turned to retrieve a brush from his pouch. When he spoke, a wistful smile hovered on his lips. “He does. He loves her possessively, solemnly, over and over. He would love her more violently if she grants him the privilege.”

Evanthe’s mouth opened slightly as she stared at her trembling hands.

Hesitantly, she nodded, her heart beating at a mad pace. 

She coloured imagining how it would be like if Bill felt that way about her.

Could she feel consumed and burned by that kind of love?

However, she didn’t want anyone’s love, her heart whispered, she wanted Bill’s love. She wanted his heart.

Bill rubbed his face and motioned toward the door. “I countered three deadly curses but mind your steps, Hatshepsut was a Mistress Enchantress. She designed the traps herself.”

Evanthe clutched her wand tighter and let her senses roam the scarcely lit room.

Since the Final Battle, she noticed how spells came easier to her. She could call for her magic at any given moment and it didn’t take long for her to channel the desired amount from her core.

Shadows lurked at the edges of the Burial Chamber. The engraving of the Hippo Goddess Taweret brandished knives of protection upon the Pharaoh’s Tomb.

“Can you hear it?” Bill’s thick brows, several shades darker than his hair, lifted.

He moved closer to her in silence and took her hand in his. The simple touch sent ripples of liquid fire along her arm.

He remained motionless beside her, breathing heavily in her hair.

She could almost hear the mournful hymns to Anubis, meant to ease the passage of the dying to the West. Anubis was known for slinking through the shadows, impatient to catch the Pharaoh's ka in his jackal teeth and drag them to the Realm of the Dead.

Gently, Bill levitated the Eye of Horus guarding the sarcophagus.

“May the soles of your feet be firm. May you rest forever in Amenti.” Evanthe recited the common Death Prayer, bowing her head and paying respect to the powerful Sorceress.

“She was a great Queen and Sorceress,” Bill ran a soothing hand down her back.

He moved gently, levitating the upper lid of the sarcophagus.

Evanthe’s eyes widened at the sight of the small box hidden inside.

The stylized designs inked on Bill’s bare arms twitched under the assault of the potent Magic.

Her heart stopped when the small box floated upwards.

“Careful,” Bill whispered and shielded her with his body, his loose hair fanning over her face and obscuring her vision.

“Bill.” Her hand curved over his shoulder.

“It’s—‘’ He pushed his hair away, his fingertips brushing against her cheek. “It’s the ring.”

Both watched fascinated as a cloud of mist filled the room.  

Bill’s expression was hopeful as if it was something he yearned for.

His gaze slid over her bewildered face and he tugged her into the cradle of his body with a familiarity that robbed her of breath.

“Do you remember the legend of Hatshepsut’s Ring?” he asked raggedly.

She decided, hazily, that she was imagining the look in his eye.

“Hatshepsut’s Ring…” She choked out when his thumb brushed the side of her throat.

There was something unreal about the moment, something dreamlike. She didn’t want it to end.

“Yes?” Bill’s eye colour changed to deep blue, almost black.

“It—‘’ She swallowed. A Blossom of colour rose from her throat when his fingertips slid along her neck, the light caress disarmed her. “Hatshepsut owned the Sacred Scarab. In its back is inscribed her Throne Name and—‘’

“And?’’ Bill ran an exploring fingertip over the upper rim of one ear.

“And the last words she wrote to her lover; Senenmut. Their love was forbidden for he was a commoner, but—‘’ Evanthe closed her eyes when his hands lingered at the sides of her face. “She loved him anyway. Despite all the social differences and age gap and…everything. She loved him.”

Was it the reason why this mysterious wizard wanted to have Hatshepsut’s ring for his lover?

Her eyes shot up in bewilderment when Bill took her hand and put it over his heart.

No, it couldn’t be….

“Did he love her?” She asked brusquely then broke off, their breaths mingling in uneven surges.

The dreamlike feeling intensified when he breathed in her ear. “Possessively, solemnly, over and over. He would love her more violently when she grants him the privilege.”

Notes:

Poor Evanthe, you're not ready for Bill's charm🤭 I was wondering, shall we have a sequel with Bill's POV?🤔

Chapter 2: Bill's Claim

Notes:

King Lycaon of Arcadia: A legendary king from Greek mythology. He was turned into a wolf because he tried to feed Zeus human flesh in an offering. He's the earliest recorded instance of a werewolf legend.

Enjoy💛

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Bill struggled to cover up his smirk. 

He had given Evanthe more than enough hints to see his interest. His intention could not have been clearer.

To back down now was inconceivable. 

And so, he leaned nearer yet until his face was but an inch from hers, satisfaction coursing through his veins at the blush burning its way into her cheeks.

Thanks to his enhanced senses, he noticed the way her pupils widened in astonishment and heard the sound of her heart thundering inside her chest.

Soon, he would do everything he’d been dying to do for what seemed like an eternity.

Evanthe Potter would be his, and no other man would touch her, because she belonged to him solely.

He mustered an innocent smile and whispered in her ear, his lips brushing against the delicate shell. “Possessively, solemnly, over and over. He would love her more violently when she grants him the privilege.”

Her eyes drifted shut, and he exhaled. A jolt of possessiveness spiralled from his wolf filling his chest until he was surprised it didn’t burst. 

He reached out, took her chin between his fingers and tilted her head to the side, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Does this answer your question, Evanthe?”

Caught unprepared, she barely managed a whisper in response. “Bill….” 

He was unable to take his gaze from her. She looked as fresh as springtime, her dark hair hanging in a messy updo, her eyes wide with surprise. Then her gaze moved over his chest again, and he knew a moment of utter contentment.

She let herself lean against him. Bill dropped his face to the side of her throat and inhaled, filling his lungs with her fragrance.

The wolf writhed in her scent uncontrollably, feeling as though it was alive after so long.

Discussing what happened six years ago in the Burrow was out of bonds. No one wanted to remember how he almost lost his life to Fenrir Greyback’s bite, no one wanted to see his mother’s tears or the worry written over his father’s face.

But Bill Weasley carried the bite. That night, he became a Child of the Moon; the wolf a crucial part of him.

He might not change into a bloodthirsty beast every full moon, but he was part werewolf nonetheless.

Bill did not regret what occurred that night.

It had been unexpected, but… 

After the shock wore off and he recovered, he did some serious self-reflection.

He was a savvy Master Curse Breaker who knew about Wereweolves and the story of King Lyacon.

Nothing happened without a reason, it wasn’t the Fates’ style.

He had suspected something odd when he first met fourteen-year-old Evanthe Potter.

The moment he touched her hand, fire erupted in his body, a humming tingle that slowly spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers.

He didn’t pay it much attention. To him, she was merely his youngest brother’s housemate and an honoured guest.

He willed himself to forget about the incident, courted Fleur and proposed.

Evanthe, though, never left his thoughts.

It had been strange, incredibly awkward and in the light of the events that took place two years after that meeting, made perfect sense. 

After King Lyacon’s Curse claimed him, he understood.

If he thought of the legend in that context, there was more to his attraction to Evanthe than he thought. Something the wolf he was always meant to have recognized first.

Perhaps he should have noticed the signs earlier. The way his thoughts drifted to her and his magic sought her proximity.

“But how—I mean when…You and—I…I—” She stammered after a moment, a faint blush staining her cheeks. 

Bill took her hand and raised it to his lips.

More than once, he’d lain awake at night, thinking of her. He had wondered what it would feel like if he were to kiss her—to claim her the very thought stirring his blood, making his heart beat faster and his wolf claw at his insides.

“It’s you. There was never anyone else. Didn’t I give you enough hints time and again?” He reached out and brushed a strand of hair back from her face, his touch leaving a trail of heat on her cheek. 

Her sooty eyelashes fluttered.

His lips quivered. “Did you have fun keeping me waiting all these years? I’m not getting any younger.” Heat rushed into her cheeks, and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. 

When he recognized what she was to him, he didn’t hesitate to confront Fleur.

He was startled when she admitted she suspected as much. She would have gone with the wedding hadn’t he asked for an annulment. The kind of bond they forged was more than satisfying for her. She didn’t require love to bond with him.

Bill hugged her and they sighed in relief. 

At that moment, both realized they had become each other’s best friend and confidante.

With a goodbye kiss on the cheek, Fleur bode him farewell and spurred him to act on his feelings.

Evanthe, though, didn’t make it easy to court her.

She was too obvious, too innocent to decipher his looks and his innuendos. He did not doubt that every member of his family knew of his intentions; everyone save the witch he wanted.

Even Sharptooth; the impudent Goblin, mocked his suffering.

“Didn’t you ask me to assign her as your Apprentice,” he drawled the last time they met. “You don’t seem content.”

Bill bore the infuriating waiting, his resolve never wavering. He sensed the connection; the need that danced between them.

His prayers were answered when he got his hands on Hatshepsut’s lost papyrus.

He knew then that there was no better way to make his intentions clear than this last adventure.

His arm stole around her waist and he drew her close, his body pressed hard against hers, the feel of her sending a tremor of anticipation through him.

He cupped her cheek, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Say it, Evanthe. Say you understand my intentions.”

Trembling, she did, the words leaving her in a whisper. ‘’I do. At times, I caught you staring at me in that way and I—“

She ducked her head and blushed. 

It was like watching an exotic flower bloom, its soft petals slowly spreading, revealing its beauty bit by bit, then opening at last to claim the sunlight.

“Like what?” He chuckled, nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear and brushed her earlobe with his lips.

He felt her arch in his arms, her head turning to—unknowingly—bare more of her throat to him. He nipped his way down her neck, stopping to nuzzle the hollow at the base of her throat taking her scent deep into his lungs.

Her pulse beat frantically beneath his lips, her body trembled and her fingers clenched in his shirt.

“Like you feel the same way I do.” The words echoed in the Burial Room.

A bolt of heat shot through him, made his heart tighten, a thousand thoughts darting through his mind, distilling into one. 

She was finally his.

Her mouth was inches from his. Without waiting, he closed the distance between them and kissed her, unable to withstand the temptation any longer.

She tasted like the sun, like summer and hope. The thunder he heard was his own need, his blood pounding in his ears, his heart drumming in an unsteady beat.

Thirstily, he plundered the sweet heat of her mouth and became instantly intoxicated when she answered in kind, her tongue curling over his in a teasing dance that made him burn. Her slender arms wound around his neck and tightened. 

Kissing her was better than his wildest dreams; more potent, more thrilling. 

He had never felt anything like this—the reckless abandon of it, the singing in his blood, the growls of his wolf.

He had wanted this, dreamed about it, and now it was happening. He was kissing Evanthe Potter; his mate. 

She melted against him and his embrace tightened, his mouth a brand, hot and persistent when she yielded eagerly, parting her lips for him, welcoming his intrusion. 

Heat flared low in his belly when she took the kiss deeper and tasted him. 

Bill raised his head for a moment and looked down at her, his blue eyes dark with need and satisfaction.

He traced her lower lip with his thumb, his heart thudding against hers. “Would you have me, Evanthe? Would you be mine?”

There was no hesitation in Evanthe’s eyes as she gazed up at him and offered her left hand. Happiness was written upon her face as clearly as words on a virgin page.

Contentment seared through him, molten and exquisite, almost terrifying in its intensity as he slid Hatshepsut’s Ring onto her fourth finger.

A soft breeze tickled his face, the air thick with magic when the ring found its new mistress.

The turquoise-green Scarab’s tiny eyes gleamed gold for a moment before the ring resized itself around her finger.

Gradually, the fog cleared and she peered at him from under her eyelashes. “So, us?” She smiled and settled in his arms, her breath teasing the skin of his neck and upper chest.

He looked into her beautiful eyes and saw the same tangle of emotions he was feeling mirrored there.

Never had he felt so connected to another person. Never had he felt more complete.

He grinned, then brushed her lips with his, his kiss as soft as a whisper. “You are stuck with me, Apprentice Potter. Forever.”

Bill loved nothing more than the sound of laughter his confession elicited.

She pressed her forehead to his chest, her fingers tracing circles along his spine.

For a moment they remained like that, basking in each other’s proximity.

Bill’s eyes darted to the reliefs. He stilled when Hatshepsut’s kohled, fathomless eyes locked with his for a heartbeat.

He swore her lips lifted in a pleased smile, a lone tear splashing her left cheek.

Notes:

Bill oh Bill🤭

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