— CHAPTER ONE —

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was always cold, but it was worst at night and in the earliest hours there was little Harry could do to keep the chill from settling in bone deep. Harry stood now in front of the great hearth in the formal sitting room and he had urged the fire into a wild inferno beyond the grate, yet he could only scarcely feel the heat. The house creaked and the wind moaned beyond the walls.

The the dark was more profound here. From the corner of the eye, Harry could see the shadows moving in unnatural and unexpected ways. Even after Harry had taken the time to restore Sirius's ancestral home to its former glory and removed all dark artifacts, the darkness still lingered and it likely always would.

This bothered most members of the Order and when in their company, Harry pretended he felt the same. However, for Harry, the darkness was was more familiar than the light. There was strange comfort in the smothering nothingness of night and Harry, while he enjoyed warmth, was also used to the numbness of bitter cold.

It had been three years since Harry had seen the Dursleys and nine years since he had slept in a cupboard. Sometimes Harry wondered if he would ever be normal in any respect. It seemed doubtful. Even in matters of his marriage, his magic, or his children… he could not have even a shred of normalcy.

The last thought brought him back to the issue he had been attempting to put from his mind. His magic flared angrily beneath his skin and he allowed it to swell for a moment before he ruthlessly tightened his leash upon it and forced it back into his core. He just needed to confront this latest issue and deal with it like he had to deal with everything else life threw at him. He was as calm as he was going to get.

Harry waved a hand and the massive grates that covered the fireplace parted with a groan. Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the wild flames. The flames shifted color and flared, cool tendrils licking his outstretched fingers. He stepped into the embrace of the flames and whispered, "Hogwarts."

He stepped into the headmaster's office with a grace that came only from years of practice - a broom was, and had always been, the only means of magical transportation that felt natural to him.

The office was exactly as he remembered. He studied the little whirling gismos and trinkets as he waited there, knowing that one of the silver instruments would have already alerted Albus of his arrival. Shortly, the old wizard stepped down the stairs at the far side of the office, dressed in bright purple pajamas that were, to Harry's eyes, almost offensive in color. Albus questioned, "Harry, what has brought you here in the dead of night? You look as if you have not slept at all."

"I apologize, sir, it concerns an problem of great significance to me."

"A problem, you say? Of what sort? Take a seat, my boy, take a seat."

Albus sank down in the chair behind his desk and Harry experienced a moment of nostalgia. He stepped forward and sat down in one of the armchairs across from the desk. He got straight to the point, not allowing Albus an opportunity to offer tea and lemon drops. He said, "I turned twenty yesterday."

Albus's brow furrowed in confusion, "Yes, Harry, I know. I sent a present. I must say, it is a great pity you didn't want to celebrate properly. Even in times such as these we must make time for such things."

"My birthday is not significant, my age is. I received this note."

Harry pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket and leaned forward, extending it to Albus and watching the old man's face carefully as the headmaster read the parchment. Pale blue eyes widened with genuine shock and Harry was mildly appeased - at least he could be assured that this was not yet another secret Albus had kept from him. Albus's eyes flicked up to Harry and then back down to the note, "Harry, this is…"

"My father's mother was of Godric Gryffindor's line, apparently. Now that I am twenty, the mantel of Lord Gryffindor has passed to me, but in name only. I must be bonded in matrimony in order to assume the authority of my title and my material inheritance. In order to assume full command of my magic, I must meet the previous requirement and also sire an heir. Should I fail to bond with a mate within the next two days, I will be unceremoniously stripped of my name, title and all magic."

Albus whispered, "Oh Harry, I am so sorry... Is there anyone... anyone in your life presently whom you might…?"

It was a rare thing, for Albus to be at a loss for words. Harry replied shortly, "No."

Albus rubbed his hands over his face wearily, upsetting his spectacles. The man looked every one of his years in this moment. Then he straightened his half-moon glasses and the full weight of his gaze settled on Harry once more, "The wizarding world needs you, Harry. Without you we have no hope of defeating Voldemort and without your magic you shall never prevail."

"I do not need you to remind me of that, Albus," Harry replied, more curtly than he intended. "I understand that it is of utmost necessity that I marry immediately but that would involve another person besides me. I need someone who I can trust and who will agree to such a match."

Albus steepled his fingers, peering at Harry gravely over his joined hands, "There is little time for that, but you have another option available to you, meant precisely for use under such circumstances as these. You could invoke the old bonding ritual used by nobility in the past. As Godric Gryffindor's descendant it is well within your legal rights."

"What would that entail?"

Albus paused then trained his gaze on his own fingers and said carefully, "Well, essentially, once you invoke your right to a bondmate, you may choose one individual with whom to bond. If your magic is stronger than theirs, then that individual will be bound to you immediately and without their consent."

Harry's brows raised in disbelief and he said, "I am shocked you, of all people, would even suggest such a thing, Albus."

"There are very few people in the Order who are of childbearing age and who are not romantically involved," Albus replied, dropping his hands and shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "I am sure one of them could be convinced to enter into a bond with you for your sake and the sake of the wizarding world but it would be an incredible sacrifice and the bond could not be broken even in death. I am afraid that any wizard or witch who understands the significance of bonds would balk at tying themselves to someone they do not deeply love."

Albus hesitated for a moment as he considered his own words and then he finally meet Harry's gaze once more, his expression drawn but resolute now, "Many people love you, Harry, but I believe that the ritual would give you the opportunity to select someone whom you love or believe you could love. So many choices have been taken from you, Harry, and I would not have the choice of who you marry taken from you as well. You, more than anyone in this world perhaps, deserve love."

"To give me a choice would rob someone else of their choice," Harry replied tonelessly, his heart feeling quite cold within his chest. He rubbed a hand against his sternum in an effort to soothe the ache in his chest but he was not conscious of his actions. He hated himself for even considering marrying someone without their consent. He should have raged at Albus and left Hogwarts. He should have found some other way or accepted the consequences of failure. He should have been absolutely unwilling to compromise his own morals for personal gain. Yet, his decision was already made.

Would he ever be warm again? Harry doubted it.

Albus's voice was laden with meaning as he answered, "I think you would choose wisely and I think, whatever your choice, it will be what fate has intended."

Harry focused on Albus's voice and he heard what the man was not saying. He chuckled quietly but humorlessly, "Yes, I am sure you are right."

Harry wasn't sure about anything except that this course of action was wrong. He knew what it was that Albus wanted to believe and he also realized that it was very likely that the old man needed to believe in the will of some higher power in order to live with himself. Harry indulged Albus by answering as he did but to try pinning this on fate was only a selfish hope for absolution. Harry believed in fate but he didn't romanticize it. He knew better than anyone how cruel fate could truly be.