A/N- Chapter one was redone, for anyone following the story, I didn't change very much just edited some mistakes and spaced out the paragraphs better. Enjoy.
Harry sighed, pulling on a bit of his short cut hair. Gone was the shaggy mass of locks he had worn throughout his adolescence, Hermione had convinced him to shave it close cropped and it was only now starting to grow back. He placed the book he had been pursuing closed on the end table next to the recliner, rue the day when he placed a book open with its spine bent. They didn't last long that way. His apartment was small, despite the mass inheritance he had come into, one bedroom, a small kitchenette two bathrooms and a living area. Hermione claimed that he lived as a pauper because he was afraid to live like a king. That was all rubbish of course. Harry lived the way he did because he thoroughly enjoyed a cramped lifestyle, it was the only one he had known and he was content with it.
He stretched and his fingertips brushed the tops of the high arch doorway that led to his kitchen, Ron could grab it... easily. Such things had always frustrated Harry, he wasn't tall, but he wasn't short either. He fell somewhere in the middle, something women often reminded him was a less appealing trait in a man. He supposed it was because he was shoved up into a cupboard until age twelve. Such things would affect your growth, convergent evolution and all.
The kitchenette was sparsely decorated, a few tea mugs hung from hooks underneath the cabinet and a small fridge hid underneath a wine rack in the corner closest to the door. The pots and pans were stored underneath the stove, and a small breakfast nook was crowded into a corner next to the only window in the room. A cup of tea and some toast would be lovely, Harry decided, pulling down a mug and setting the teapot onto the stove. While the water heated he went to get the paper. Instead of having it delivered by owl Harry had requested it to be pushed into his mailbox by human means. Of course for the savior of the wizarding world, it was done with no complaint.
Harry liked his neighborhood. All the houses were small and jammed up next to one another, but they were sweet, one might even say adorable if one were so inclined. White picket fences, green lawns, small as they may be and neat, trimmed hedges. It was a beautiful place to live and it was all his. That was perhaps the most important thing to Harry, that it was his. No war had shaped his decision of moving here, no crazed lunatic influenced his reasoning for buying a muggle television. This was all purely his, not even Ron or Hermione had been allowed to come house hunting with him. The teapot whistled its discomfort and with a last breath of fresh air he returned to his house, paper underneath one arm.
"Morning, Tigger." Harry greeted his giant yellow-orange feline, after Hedwig he couldn't bring himself to purchase another owl. The cat had been perfect, not as needy or high maintenance as a puppy or dog and not as loving or loyal as an owl. It had been aloof and flicked its tail at him when they first met. He was perfect.
The cat rubbed its body over Harry's legs as he poured himself a cup of earl grey. Putting the mug on the table for the tea steep he went to get out the wet food for the cat. Tigger only got wet food once a day and after he finished it he would go back to ignoring Harry.
Cat fed and tea ready Harry settled himself down to read a bit of wizarding news. The front page featured an edited photo of him sitting in a coffee house with a severely blonde woman. The title read; Harry Potter, dinning in France with Mystery Woman: Could this be the future Mrs. Potter? The titles had been getting less creative ever since Rita Skeeter had retired to the Caribbean, Harry snorted at the picture, funny him being in France at such a time and with a woman, not a month after he and Ginny had ended things because he wouldn't let her move in with him. She was a wonderful girl but horribly inpatient Ginny was. The story was too ridiculous to be worth reading; he flipped to the next page and froze with his mug against his mouth. Ministry Officials Arrest Two Witches for the Conscious Engagement of Homosexual Depravity. Harry gaped and sat a little straighter, now this was worth the read.
Witches Marilynn Cook and Natalie Monson were arrested late last night after an anonymous tip informed officials that the two had been living together under suspicious terms, the tip also included photos taken through the witches bedroom window that depicted the couple engaging in acts clearly against Law 1374 of the revised wizarding constitution. The penalty for such a heinous crime is at the least a kiss from the dementor. Ms. Cook and Ms. Monson are currently in Auror holding and are awaiting their sentencing, with the evidence provided and the Council screaming for death, the outlook is grim for these criminals. Minister-
Harry put the newspaper down with shaking hands. He knew that people hadn't always been friendly to homosexuals, even in the muggle world there were protests concerning those who slept with the same sex. But he hadn't known that in the wizarding world the punishment for such an "offense" was a dementor's kiss at the very least! His stomach turned and he pushed the tea away. He wasn't a homosexual but as long as it wasn't pushed upon him he didn't mind it, but to sentence someone to death, simply because they loved someone unconventional. It made him glad he hadn't eaten the toast because he was sure it would have come back up. A whooshing noise came from his living area.
The fireplace.
Stumbling a little with the weight of what he'd learned Harry made his way to the room to see Hermione's head bobbing up and down in the fire. It only bobbed when she was angry.
"Harry! Let me through the floo." The raven haired man nodded at once and waved his wand, which he always kept in his front pocket, to change the wards to key Hermione in. Seconds later the lion of a woman was pacing his small living space and hissing like a trapped cat about something to do with idiots. Wary to ask what was wrong; Harry decided to let her come to it on her own. He didn't have a long wait.
"Those bloody stupid bigots!" She elongated the word stupid so that it sounded to Harry a bit like "ste-ew-peed" he forced back a snort.
"What is it that Ron has done this time Hermione?"
"Not only Ron! The whole bloody family, Harry, all of them! The whole fucking lot! This," She whipped out the newspaper from god knew where and shoved it into Harry's face, "What they are doing to those women is inhumane! Wrong, sick, evil! Not even muggles went this far Harry, not even muggles who are supposed to be the inferior species and yet here the witches and wizards are EXECUTING HOMOSEXUALS! And what did Ron and his family say when the saw the news? Bloody, goddam nothing, Ron even went to say that it served them right, that they deserved it. And everyone began to nod their heads like the agreed with this lunacy! It is absolutely mad Harry, mad I tell you. And then-then! They had the gall, the nerve to tell me that I was wrong, that I was the lunatic the crazy one. I cannot stay there Harry, I cannot marry someone who would condemn another simply for the person they fall in love with." Harry blinked and waited to see if that was the end of it. Hermione's chest was heaving and bright spots of red highlighted her cheeks like spilled ink on a table cloth. Her hair rose around her head giving her the look of an angry lion. He waited another beat in case she had something more to add and then began the process of calming her down.
"I know, I know Hermione, I was thinking the same thing when I saw the papers this morning. And Ron and the Weasleys are being right prats for agreeing with it." With Hermione it was always, less is better, agree with her, tell her you understand and let her work herself out of it. Too much consoling and she would turn her anger upon the consoler, not a pleasant experience. The woman sighed and threw herself down onto his couch, amazing considering how far away from it she was.
"It's horrible and the only ones who were sympathetic were the twins, mostly because I suspect George bats for the other team." Harry started, he had never suspected that, "I can't go back there Harry, I'll punch Ron in the face and scream at Molly and Arthur. Don't worry though, I know you like your space and privacy and I've already gotten everything set up with Pansy, I just wanted to talk to you." Harry nodded, of all the things he would never understand it was the friendship that had formed between Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger. According to her she had found Pansy crying in the bathroom at the Ministry, where Hermione worked, and ever since then had been great friends. Women were just like that, Harry rationalized, they see someone crying and all past crimes are forgiven.
"Alright, do you need anything, something to drink, eat perhaps?" Harry offered gesturing to the kitchenette. Hermione shook her head, and threw him a half smile.
"No, thank you but I told Pansy I would be over in five and it's already been fifteen, any later and I run the risk of being horribly rude." She gave him a brisk hug, "Take care of yourself alright, and don't let Ron bully you while I'm gone." A burst of green flames as his house was once again quiet and ordered.
Harry had to admit that this whole homosexual business had shaken him up a bit, he had no doubt that Ron would be storming through the fire soon ranting about Hermione leaving him over something stupid. Groaning he made his way to the kitchenette to finish his tea. He would need some caffeine to get him through encounters with both his friends today.
Severus Snape was angry. No more than that, he was livid and even that word could not fully grasp the extent of his rage. That law was as ancient as Dumbledore and even more unfashionable. Just as they were recovering from one war the Ministry wanted to send them into another? Pompous ignorant fools. Curse them all into the depths of hell. His potion bubbled over the sides of the cauldron dripping Pepper Up potion everywhere. Severus vanished it all with a sharp flick of his wand. He stormed up the stairs of his laboratory, token cloak billowing around his shoulders like some avenging angel. Minister Goode was an imbecile, unfit to rule over an army of sea slugs let alone the wizarding world. Bringing back old laws like this one, simply because of silly prejudices was immoral and foolish. The potions master had no doubt that the anonymous tip and photos had come from Goode's personal legion of spies. That man nursed a grudge against Ms. Cook as old as time. The woman had beaten him in an election before she retired and it had never sat well with him that a woman of all things had bested him.
House elves scampered from underneath the stomp of their master's feet as he made his way to the bedroom. He was in no mood to notice them and more than one of them remembered crushed fingers and bruised arms when they hadn't gotten out of the way fast enough.
They will be hunting us now, just like the Jews were hunted. He thought. Sinking to the level of the people they always wanted to best. How wonderfully ironic. He reached the door and quietly pushed it open; his temper was no reason to interrupt another's sleep. Lying in the middle of Severus's large bed was a man named Donald Rogers. They had met one another a long time ago, at a potions convention in America. He was bright and witty, not the best looking but when love comes over you that seems no longer necessary. Not that Severus was in love at first sight that would be unbecoming and entirely out of character. But he was certainly interested in the American at first sight. It was Donald who had approached Severus however, with the mad idea to make a potion for a muggle disease called cancer, something wizards were apparently immune to. They had worked on it for over three years together before the first glimpses of romance began to filter into their usual potions banter. From there it was simply a matter of courage; they had been partners for a year now. Partners. Donald hated that word, they were lovers, according to him, it's that much more romantic Sev, he would always say. Severus indulged such childish displays only out of his love for the man.
He gently shook Donald awake, glowing a little inside when the man rolled over and cracked open his brown eyes at him.
"There has been some trouble, and if it continues on the path I believe it will, then there is just cause that it will affect us also. Meet me in the study when you are dressed, we have much to discuss." With that he left Donald to clean himself up at his own leisure. It gave him time to reflect on how he would approach the subject with his partner. Donald could be so… dramatic when the mood took him, which Severus had to admit, was more often than not.
The study was Severus's favorite room in the house. It was small enough to be comforting and yet large enough to be intimidating. All of his extensive potions library were housed in this room. The walls were a burnt auburn and all of the furniture was a deep mahogany. And yet the room never appeared dark, it was always light and airy, a great comfort when one is pouring over old tomes and researching a disease that only seemed to effect muggles and animals. The man poured out a glass of brandy for both Donald and he, despite the early hour.
Donald arrived much earlier than expected, the man was like a woman in the bathroom, five minutes meant twenty and just a second meant an hour. Severus had been expecting at least an hour.
"What is it that is so important to our lives that you got me up and about before seven and before a cup of coffee Severus?" He swept into the room and chose the seat furthest away, to display his irritation.
Severus gestured to the morning paper with a graceful wave of his hand. No other words were necessary. Donald picked up the Prophet and immediately skipped over the bit of drivel concerning the Potter boy. He found the article instantly and was immersed in reading for a quiet two minutes. Finished Donald folded the paper carefully and set it back upon the desk. Leaning back in his chair he examined Severus.
"Well?" Asked the former professor.
"Well what? Yes it is very unfortunate that those poor witches will most likely receive the dementors kiss, but at their tender age of one-hundred seventy and one-hundred seventy-six respectively, they would have known about that late addition to the constitution. It was their own folly that had them in this situation. I don't see what it has to do with us."
"Do you not?" Severus's voice was silky, "This is only the beginning of what will undoubtedly become a civil rights war. If the Ministry gets their way then it will be the wizarding equivalent of a second holocaust. We will be hunted Donald, and many wizards and witches would agree that our fates were no less than we deserved for our transgressions."
"You British take everything to a level it doesn't have to be at. Honestly, hunted, Severus? Do you hear yourself? All you need is a little rebellion, pick a nice leader and go to political war, sure there will be some casualties but did you expect there not to be? America had its own wizarding revolution headed by Harvey Milk in the seventies. Of course it didn't seem like much to muggle America but he did very much for wizarding America. Don't create drama where there is none Sev. Form a committee, elect a figure head and put everything to the public, everything will work out."
"How can you be so ignorant? Britain is not like America. In American there was no law allowing government officials to put homosexuals to death, this is a different situation, forming a committee would do nothing but make it easier for the Minister to find us and execute us."
"Then let's move to America. You can find a job as a potions teacher at one of the schools there and I can-"
"A teacher Donald? Have you been so wrapped up in yourself that you know absolutely nothing of me? I despise teaching, children and everything that goes with the profession, something which I have told you countless times as you seem adamant on bringing it up!" He didn't mean to snap, really, but his patience was thin as it was and Donald had the loveliest way of getting under Severus's skin when he wanted to.
"Very nice Sev, bite out insults to the only person that cares about you, perhaps I'll just go to America myself shall I? And leave you here with your make believe war." Donald curled his lip in distaste. This is how their arguments always went, Donald would upset Severus, Severus would snap and then Donald would hold over his head that he was the only one to tolerate the snarky potions master. Like teenage girls. Donald gave him a look and left the room, leaving Severus to fume in silence.
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