Chapter 1

Six Years Later, London

Harry stretched until his spine made a popping sound similar to apparition. It had ended up taking just over a year to complete his A levels and another year to decide what he wanted to do, which universities to apply to, get accepted, and find a nice townhouse to call his own. Well, at least Harry Hart's own. It wasn't a bad bit of space either. Upper class neighborhood, not someplace anyone looking for Harry Potter would go, three stories, private garden space out back, and it was off the main road so it was relatively quiet for London as well. It was the perfect house for Sir Harry Hart, who had been recently knighted by the Queen in a private ceremony when she had realized that Harry Potter had changed into Harry Hart. Harry had been a bit panicked about that and had stormed over to Gringotts after being knighted and given a lordship he hadn't asked for.

Steeltooth had not been amused by the accusation that someone at Gringotts had leaked his new identity, and had cut Harry off at the knees when he told Harry that the Queen would always know who was who. It had been part of the magical agreement the Founders had put in place with Muggles back then, and had been updated throughout the centuries with each new royal bloodline. Harry had practically collapsed to his knees in relief at that, and had spent the next hour apologizing to Steeltooth for besmirching his honor.

But now Harry was finally free to live a new life where he wasn't the boy-who-lived, or the defeater-of-he-who-shall-not-be-named. Harry Hart was an orphaned upper class young man with all the promise of a bright future ahead of him. Harry Hart also looked damned fine in a suite too, something else that Harry Potter had never gotten to try. His one and only bespoke suite as Harry Potter had been worn once for the Yule Ball in fourth year and he hadn't even gotten to enjoy it because of Ron's winning over his own dress robes. But Harry Hart always looked proper. He wore suites or slacks with a dress shirt and button-up. His hair was always neatly combed, his face always shaved.

Harry looked in the mirror, staring back at the face that was coming to be his own. His black hair had been magically dyed to a rich chocolate brown, and his bright green eyes made hazel by contact lenses, and his most identifying feature, his lightening bolt scare, removed through careful plastic surgery. With those minor changes Harry Potter disappeared and was replaced by Harry Hart. Smirking briefly, Harry turned and left his bathroom. He was supposed to be heading to campus today for the graduation ceremony.

Today Harry Hart was officially an adult.

He had his master degree and he was ready to conquer the world. Even if he was having a hard time finding a job that didn't bore him to death. He supposed he could put in an application at MI6 but really, that risked him becoming a bit too much like James Bond. And as much as Ron and he had enjoyed reading those books as teens, imagining themselves as secret agents, he wasn't sure he wanted to go back to fighting to take down threats that could have been stopped before they became a problem. Though the adventure and intrigue still sounded far too appealing after spending so much time ad money trying to get away from that very life.

Smoothing his hands down his suite once more, Harry grabbed his keys and the graduation robes sitting on end table. Opening the door Harry looked outside at the black cab waiting for him at the curb. He could easily apparate to the school, but Harry Hart was a Muggle and Muggles could use apparition. Turning around he closed the door and locked it, placing his keys into his pocket before turning to walk down the few steps to the curb.

The drive and the ceremony were both fairly boring as far as Harry was concerned. He could have done so many more interesting things with his day than sit in a massive group of people in silly robes and hats, waiting to be handed a piece of paper that tells them they are ready to get on with their life.

"Bored already, Mr. Hart," came a soft spoken, cultured voice.

Harry glanced out of the corner of his eyes at the young woman seated next to him. He didn't recognize the her at all, but that wasn't too unusual considering the size of the graduating class. She was a looker though with those blue eyes and perfectly coiffed blonde hair. "Always," replied Harry.

It was true. As glad as he was not to be on the run, or having Death Eaters trying to kill him, Harry also kind of missed it. He missed the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he missed the thrill of the chase, of the mystery. School was fun at first. learning so many new things. Having a chance to be someone that no one recognized at first sight. It had all been so very new at first, getting a chance to be the normal one for once. But the novelty had worn off and now Harry was back to wondering what things would have been like if he had stayed in the Wizarding World.

"Well, I've got something that might cure that."

"Oh?" Harry turned his head just slightly towards the young woman, taking in her appearance more fully. The blonde hair styled in the traditional manner of an upper class woman, and blue eyes bright behind thick cats-eye glasses. "And what might that be?"

"A job."

"A job," Harry asked incredulously. "As what?"

"A tailor."

"A tailor?" Harry snorted, earning him a gaze from some of the other graduates around him. "Hardly sounds exciting."

"Oh, I don't know. Meeting new people, seeing new places-"

"I hardly think a tailor travels."

"You'd be surprised." The other graduate looked up at the stage as their row was called to stand up and head towards the stage. Glancing back at Harry, the she handed him a card. "Think about it."

Harry glanced down at the card. It was a heavy cardstock in cream with the words Kingsman Tailors embossed on the front in black ink. Underneath it was and address on Saville Row. Harry looked up only to the find the young woman had vanished, blinking Harry stretched his senses out reaching, but he couldn't sense any magic. At least not any more than you could in the average London crowd. Hearing his name called, Harry was forced to let the incident go.

For now.

==HP==Galahad==HH==

The Next Day, Harry Hart's House

Harry strolled casually out of his house, walking briskly, but noticeably fast. There was an apparition point just four blocks away, with Muggle repelling wards. If he was being tailed by the man from the graduation ceremony, then he had to be careful. His best bet to safely get out of the neighborhood and to number 12 Grimmauld Place, so he could change back to Harry Potter, was that apparition point. He needed to get there so he could meet with Luna and Hermione at the shop. He had promised to come in and look over the books with them. Sure the girls, mostly Hermione, ran the shop for him, but they were both very firm that he stay up to date. The Hallow Hart Bookshop did actually belong to Harry. He had opened it five years ago just before he started university. He had thought it would be nice, something for him to do if he didn't get in. He had enjoyed it and had even invited Hermione to help him run the shop. It had been a small place at first, but something about it's atmosphere brought in customers by the dozens. And according to Hermione they actually just kept coming back for him. Harry didn't really believe it, not that first year, but once he started school and only came in on the weekends, he started to notice that women seemed to come in mostly on those days. And sure some of them were actually there for the books, but many of them, he soon realized, where there because he was a "posh fox." At least that is what they called him when they didn't think he heard them. After that he started coming in less and less, and turned the running over to Hermione and then later hired Luna to help her.

The bookstore was doing very well, Harry had in fact been able to buy the building and expand the bookshop to a second floor, and remodel the whole thing. The apartments on the two floors above the shop he also remodeled before putting them up for rent. Of course there had been a judicious use of magic for all the remodeling, and the expansion of the store room and office in the basement. But that hardly mattered. No what mattered was that he had an income now that wasn't just from his backing Fred and George, or his parents investments. He had something he had but up with his own two hands.

It was an amazing feeling.

Slipping in around a corner, Harry managed to walk into the shop with the Muggle repelling wards and slip into it's back ally, where he vanished. He doubted any followers had gotten that far. The wards over the shop were some of the best. They stretched out for thirty feet in front of the shop in all directions, so by the time he got to his door any watchers would have found their eyes wandering to other spots on the street. So as he appeared in the small courtyard at the back of his building, he simply walked up to the door leading into the employee break room and lower office.

No one appeared to be below stairs at the moment, but Harry took the time to inspect the rooms anyway. Making sure all of them were still in good condition, he headed to the stock room to make sure it wasn't over full of books like it tended to be if he let Hermione order stock for more than two months in a row.

The stock room was made of wizard space and was three floors deep, and as large as the whole basement was normally without magic affecting it. It had one floor for rare books, one for normal muggle books, and one for wizarding books. All of which Hermione had sorted by genre, author, and series. He had no idea how many thousands of books there were in total between all three floors, but he was fairly certain it wasn't more than two thousand since he told her to not have any more than that number of books in storage. He didn't want Muggles questioning why he bought so many books, where he was storing them, and why he ordered that many if he wasn't selling that many that fast. So far Hermione had been pretty good about keeping the numbers reasonable, so he wasn't too worried.

Stepping into the top floor of the storage room, Harry walked over to the desk in the nook he had built that overlooked all three floors. At the center of the room, across from the desk, a stairwell led down to the other two floors. If you were to stand by the stairwell you would be able to look through the large opening to see both floors below. The nook had a perfect view of both the entrance and the stairs, but that was hardly the reason he was there. The nook had a plush Persian carpet, two large wingback chairs, and the large desk and it's chair. Behind the desk was a small bookshelf filled with binders. These binder held the logs of every book in storage, both presently, and past. The logs that would have the books up on the sales floor were in the main office, along with the sales log. The only people that would come in here were Hermione, Luna, and himself.

Dropping into the chair behind the desk, Harry pulled out the current storage binder. He spent nearly a half hour flipping through it, checking over what books had been bought and stored, which were waiting for pick-up by a wizarding customer, which were special ordered for their Muggle clients, and which ones had simply been sitting in storage. Those he would have to do something with. If they weren't selling well enough with his normal guests he would need to talk with Hermione. They might have to do a donation run again to some of the poorer neighborhoods. The schools there were always looking for new books, and if he could keep the kids in those neighborhoods out of trouble that would be a bonus. All their donation books had small charms on them to encourage the people holding them to avoid gangs, drugs, and petty theft. It gave those kids, teens, and adults, a chance to not fall into the patterns that the posh thought was the norma for people living in those areas.

"How long have you been here," Hermione complained as she dropped into the wingback closest to Harry.

"Maybe an hour." Harry waved his wand, summoning Bippy the house elf in charge of Hallow Hart. "Bippy, can we get a pot of tea and something to nibble on?"

"Bippy be happy tos be bringing Master Potter some teas."

Bippy bowed and vanished to the kitchen, which was hidden away in wizard space between the basement and the ground floor. Bippy had long since altered the space so only the house elves could access the kitchen. Apparently Harry's continued venturing into the kitchen to make his own foods had offended them.

"How have you been," asked Hermione. "You haven't been around for a while."

Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione had been trying to figure out what he was doing in his time away from the shop for years. Harry was always tempted to tell her, but he liked having a part of his life belong just to him.

"I've been alright. I got a job offer that I'm contemplating."

"Oh," Hermione looked at him and then around the room. "And this isn't job enough for you?"

Harry chuckled but didn't answer right away as Bippy chose that moment to re-appear with a large silver try. She levitated it and lightly set it to rest on the table between the two wingback chairs. On the tray was a tiered cake stand filled with cucumber sandwiches, English madeleines, and Lemon & lavender fondant fancies. Next to it was of course the teapot, teacups, the little jars of sugar and cream, and the small plates and silverware for the snacks. Hippy quickly poured the tea, adding the cream and sugar to each of their tastes, before vanishing back to her normal duties.

"Well," stated Hermione. "What is this other job?"

"A tailor. Apparently one of the girls I have met recently works at a tailors shop and they are in need of new apprentices. I thought it might be an interesting experience from what she described. It sounds like they have tailors who actually fly out to meet clients all over the world." Harry lifted his cup, savoring the aroma of the Earl Grey in his teacup. "It might be nice. I could see new places and still get paid."

"You get profit from the bookshop. You could just travel without having to get a new job."

"True, but it would get boring after a while. As much as I like the idea of just traveling for the sake of traveling, I know I'd get bored. I'm just not used to not having work to do."

"You aren't working now," pointed out Hermione.

"I was. I actually might have, kind of been, going to university," Harry replied sheepishly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

"What!" Hermione jumped up, nearly knocking over the tea tray, her bushy hair fluffing up like an angry cats. "How could you go off to university and not tell me?"

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. I just wanted to try doing something on my own for once."

Hermione sighed and dropped back into her seat. "I get it. I do." Hermione looked at him, taking in the slightly more posh slacks and button-down he was wearing. It wasn't his normal jeans and a t-shirt, or Weasley jumper, that he wore to Sunday diners. He actually looked like he was trying to be an adult. "I'm proud of you, Harry. Really I am. You've built yourself a business here that is thriving, and now you've gone to university as well."

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"Have you graduated yet?"

"Yeah, just the other day. It was pretty boring though."

She shook her head. "Only you would find graduating university boring."

"Hey, lots of people find it boring! All you do is sit around for hours while people gab on at you. I think you're the only person I know who would find it fun."

She swatted his arm and went to pick her teacup back up, wand flicking briefly to clean up the spilled tea that had puddled on the tray from her earlier bout of excitement. "What did you major in, if I can ask?"

"Business," Harry shrugged. "It seemed a good idea since I was starting my own. Plus I honestly had no idea what else to do. Though I did do a minor in Criminal Justice after the first year. The business courses were just too dull on their own."

"Now that seems more like the Harry Potter I know." Harry stuck his tongue out at her, making her laugh. "Oh, Harry. You really need to come by more. We miss you."

"I know," Harry replied a little sadly. Ron and Hermione were already married, and if the curve of her belly was any indication they were already having their first child. "But, you know how things are."

"Harry you have to get over this. Ginny moved on, she isn't mad at you anymore for leaving."

"Maybe, but when she looks at me I can still see the wistfulness in her eyes. She might not be mad but she still wishes I would have agreed to get back together."

"Maybe, but she is happy now. Neville and her have been dating seriously for almost two years now, and I'm fairly certain he's going to propose to her soon."

Harry reached out, plucking one of the scones from the tray and slathering a heaping serving of clotted cream over it. "Then I will be certain to visit once that happens. Besides, I do visit George every other week. We do a pub night and spend hours talking."

"Well, Ron and I would like to see you are more than the once every other month we can convince you to come to family dinner at the burrow."

"I know."

"Do you? We were best friends for eight years, practically inseparable for all of them. It hurts not getting to see you more often." Glancing down at her hands which were clutching the teacup, Hermione continued," you aren't mad that Ron and I got married are you? I mean I know you and Ron used to joke about becoming James Bond and living in a nice apartment in the city together after graduation-"

"We were kids, 'Mione. Both of us knew by the time the war was over that we didn't really want to be Aurors and Spies."

"But you still could have roomed together-"

"We could have. But I've lived with Ron for eight years. I was more than happy to turn him and his snoring over to you." Harry smiled and glanced purposely at her belly. 'Besides if I hadn't stepped aside, I doubt there would be this little gift coming along so soon."

Hermione blushed and a soft smile spread across her face, lighting her up. There was real joy in her eyes when she looked back at Harry. "We were hoping you'd be by for diner so we could ask you to be her godfather."

Harry's went wide. "Her? You know already?"

"Magic, Harry. We are thinking of calling her Rose Margaret." She gazed at him shrewdly. "Hopefully her godfather approves…"

"Yeah." Harry hesitatingly reached out to place a hand on her belly. "Yeah," He replied in a more confident voice. "It's perfect. Rose Margaret Weasley."

==HP==Galahad==HH==

Later That Evening, Harry Hart's House

Harry looked down at the little card in his hand. He knew he had told Hermione he would be around more often, and he meant it. But this….this felt like adventure, and oh how he missed adventure. Running the bookshop had been nice at first, university had been nice at first, but eventually it just got boring. He didn't know how to live like a normal person. His whole life had been fighting. Fighting to stay unnoticed. Fighting to earn any little scrap of affection he could. Fighting not to starve. Fighting to fit in. And finally, fighting to survive. He didn't know how to be normal. He never had been allowed to be normal. He was the secret shame hidden under the stairs. He was the juvenile delinquent. He was The-Boy-Who-Lived. He was The-Defeater-Of-Voldemort.

He wanted to be normal for his friends. To settle down, run his bookshop, marry, have the standard 2.5 kids. Maybe a dog. He wanted to be that person for them, but, well…he had been living his life for everyone else since he was a baby. He wanted to be free to live his life for himself. He had thought he had that when he created Harry Hart. But he hadn't really let himself become Harry Hart. Not truly.

Looking at that card, he knew he could be Harry Hart. Whatever the job was, because it certainly wasn't being a tailor, it would be something more. Something better than what he was doing now. He could feel it in his bones. That part of him that had been sleeping since the last Death Eater was captured and kissed, was waking up again as he looked at that simple piece of paper.

Tracing a finger over the logo, Harry contemplated what his world had become. Licking his lips he flipped the card over, reading the delicately scrawled name and phone number on the back.

Victoria Winslow

020-7946-0877

Shaking off any doubts he lifted his phone off the receiver and dialed the number, not surprised by the swift answer, or the soft cultured voice on the other end.

"I was expecting your call earlier, dear."