By the time Harry and Lydia were ready for breakfast the next morning, there was no question she was irretrievably ruined. Harry recognised the wanton expression of someone who'd been satisfied too much in a short interval, and her eyes gleamed with new knowledge.

'I refuse to believe Esme has ever experienced anything like that,' she said disdainfully. 'Charles doesn't have it in him.'

'You can't tell from looking at a bloke,' Harry argued. 'It all depends what he learnt from those French prostitutes.'

'Filles de joie,' she insisted. 'Where's the Prophet? I want to see our photograph.'

Harry wordlessly asked Kreacher to send up the newspaper, and seconds later he unrolled it for her.

To Lydia's disappointment her photograph wasn't on the cover, although Harry's was, on the bottom half of the page. 'Potter Extends Cannons Streak to Six,' read the headline, above a photo of him feinting and then catching the Snitch.

'That was a good catch,' she said sullenly, turning to to the gossip column. 'Oh, here we are, they printed two photographs—one from after your match, when we were snogging, and then one at the restaurant. Don't you look dashing in your Cannons robes ... it's perfectly scandalous the way your hands are roving! And look, they noticed the freesia in my hair and interpreted it correctly. I'm very photogenic, don't you think? Esme is too, but she has that nasty Dark Arts expression.'

'Yes, you're very photogenic, and I'm glad you don't have that expression—I hope you never get it,' he said. 'But I'm hungry, and you probably are as well. Shall I cook breakfast for you like a Muggle, just to prove how far you've fallen, or should we have Kreacher send something up?'

'We should go out to brunch,' she declared. 'I want everyone to see me like this.'

'You mean in the afterglow?'

'Exactly. I already reserved us a prime table at Dunnings—we're to arrive at ten o'clock.'

'Dunnings?' asked Harry.

She rolled her eyes. 'You really were brought up by Muggles ... it's only the oldest restaurant in Diagon Alley.'

'Older than the Leaky Cauldron?'

'The Leaky Cauldron isn't a restaurant,' she scoffed. 'And naturally I'd never go there.'

'Never say never,' he cautioned. 'You're entering a wide new world, and you mustn't rule out new experiences. I stayed there for three weeks when I was thirteen, and more recently I snogged someone there under my Invisibility Cloak.'

'You're right, I need to broaden my horizons. But not all at once—we'll start with Dunnings.'

Harry was having trouble getting excited about a restaurant whose name sounded like Grunnings, Uncle Vernon's firm, but Lydia assured him that Sunday brunch at Dunnings was the place to be seen by the wizarding elite. 'Dark or Light ... everyone goes to Dunnings. Everyone who matters, that is.'

They both showered, which did little to make Lydia presentable for their morning out. She doesn't realise it, he thought, but she's a walking advertisement for vigorous sex. She was carrying herself differently, and it was clear she was inhabiting her body in a new way. She wore a very chic outfit she described as 'luncheon robes' but didn't put a flower in her hair.

'I'd wear a bird of paradise this morning, but you haven't any,' she said. 'But it's not necessary, for I've a better idea.' She straightened the robes she'd selected for him—medium grey, and suitable for daytime—and slid the freesia she'd previously worn into his lapel. 'You've taken my innocence,' she said. 'And I want everyone to know it.'

'Believe me, everyone's going to know it. For a Slytherin, you're not at all subtle.'

'Do you really think I'd have been in Slytherin if I'd gone to Hogwarts? My father's people were, and as a girl I assumed I'd be Sorted into Slytherin, but I'm not so sure anymore.'

'I don't know,' replied Harry. 'Are you exceptionally hardworking and loyal?'

She swatted him and said, 'No, I'm exceptionally brave. I'd have been like Sirius Black and sorted into Gryffindor, only I wouldn't have gone to Azkaban and lost my looks.'

Harry tried to imagine Lydia sharing a dormitory with Ginny for seven years. 'I'm sorry, I just can't picture it. But maybe that's why you received a Stodgings letter instead, to avoid being pigeonholed.'

'Perhaps.' She tidied her hair one last time in front of the mirror. 'How do I look?'

'You look like a painting of Venus that I saw at the Musée d'Orsay, only she wasn't blonde.'

'I'll take that as a compliment. You, on the other hand, look appalling. Can't you do anything with your hair?'

'No. This is all it does. I've tried cutting it short, hair products, you name it.'

'Haven't you tried Sleekeazy's Potion? I understand your grandfather invented it.'

'Did he? I had no idea. But no, it doesn't work on my hair—Ginny made me try it once.'

'Your old girlfriend,' she said. 'You were to have married her.'

'Apparently not. Clearly I was meant to ruin a pure-blood princess, among other things.'

'I wasn't in your prophecy, was I?' she asked.

Harry laughed and said, 'No, sorry. It didn't include anything as fun as deflowering.'

'What did the prophecy say? I want to know.'

'That's too bad, because I shan't tell you.'

'You're no fun at all,' she pouted.

'Does that mean you don't want to go to brunch this morning?'

'Of course I do. I want to show you off, and you want to be shown off.'

'I do,' he admitted. 'I've discovered I rather like causing a scandal. Shall I owl Rita Skeeter before we leave?'

'Yes, let's write to her together,' insisted Lydia, and they sat at the table. He pulled a sheet of stationery from the drawer, but she frowned at it. 'Your stationery is frightfully common. It's not even monogrammed.'

'I'm frightfully common, remember?'

'You'll have to get something nicer after you change your name. If we're still together I can help you select it.'

'How long do you intend for us to stay together?' he asked.

'Long enough for you to host a party. After that we'll see what happens.'

'I shan't marry you,' he warned her.

'That's fine. I'm to have a series of lovers after you.'

'You might be disappointed,' he said slyly.

'Then I'll train them. I'll tell them Harry Potter deflowered me and I require only the best.'

They wrote the following note:

Dear Rita,

Assuming you received and signed the contract prepared by Gringotts, I'd like to offer you a news item. As anticipated, my relationship with Lydia Travers has advanced rapidly, and she's keen to tell her side of the story. With your leave, Miss Travers would like to arrange a contract similar to ours, but in the meantime she's hoping to speak to you under mine.

It is yet unknown whether her parents will cast her out, but if you owl her in care of me, your letter will surely reach her.

Sincerely,

Harry

They travelled to the restaurant by Floo, and Harry discovered yet another wizarding institution previously unknown to him. The dining room was very elegant, with large windows overlooking a river he was certain wasn't actually outside. As the host seated them, Harry saw that all the tables were either taken or had a printed card on top that said Reserved.

'Your table, Miss Travers,' said the host, who didn't acknowledge Harry. Before Harry could pull Lydia's chair out for her, it slid from the table automatically and then back in once she was settled. Harry's chair did the same, and they sat opposite each other next to a window.

He understood why she'd wanted that table—it was visible from most of the restaurant, and the natural light flattered her fair hair and complexion. 'Everyone saw us enter,' she whispered. 'Everyone knows.'

Harry was accustomed to attracting public notice, but he'd never previously had the sense that more people were talking about his companion than about himself. This feels good, he thought, leaning into his chair. Lydia is more newsworthy than I am. He was certain he saw the word 'freesia' on several people's lips, with an accompanying raised eyebrow.

She spent most of the meal regaling him about the other diners. 'That witch over there used to be Esme's best mate, back in school, but not any longer. Her husband is a half-blood—we pitied her at the time, because she couldn't do any better—and he quarrelled with a guest at one of Esme's parties ... I wasn't there but apparently he made a frightful scene. Charles refused to have them back, but now the husband is a rising star in the Improper Use of Magic Office, and Esme wants Charles to apologise but he refuses.'

Harry was bewildered. 'And she and your sister used to be best mates?'

'Yes, but they also were rivals. Felicia fancied Charles as well, but she's not Sacred Twenty-Eight, so even though she's pretty she couldn't compete. The only rich pure-blood who courted her was some horrid Rowle with too few great-grandparents, so you can understand why she wasn't interested.'

'Do you know I'd never even heard of the Sacred Twenty-Eight until after we met? I asked my teammate Titus about you, because he also attended Stodgings. Apparently he was classmates with your sister.' She looked blankly at him and he said, 'Titus Kilbourne.'

'Kilbourne? They're middle-class. Some Kilbournes are rich, like the Potters, but otherwise they're uninteresting. They're useful few every centuries for infusing fresh blood—I probably have a Kilbourne ancestor or two, but I certainly wouldn't brag about it.'

'I'm tempted to preserve this conversation as a Pensieve memory,' said Harry. 'I suspect you'll be horrified by it in a few years, or maybe sooner.'

'What a disagreeable thing to say! What do you mean?'

'I've been in the wizarding world for eight years and I don't think I've ever heard anyone talk like you are, not even Draco Malfoy.'

'Of course not. We don't talk like this with outsiders. I'm only talking to you this way because you ruined me, so I haven't any secrets from you.'

'It's just ... people are so much more interesting than who their ancestors were or how much gold they have. You're not interested in me because of the Potters or the Blacks, or the Evanses for that matter. I get the impression you like me in spite of all that.'

'Certainly in spite of the Evanses ... I assume those were your mother's people.' She sighed and added, 'But you're right. I need to forget about all that, or at least stop talking about it. I certainly have no use for tiresome people—that's why I jumped ship. Are you saying I was tiresome just now?'

'Yeah, a bit. I can't say I minded, because you're lovely to look at, but it wasn't nearly as interesting as other conversations I've had recently.'

She frowned for a moment. 'I'm glad you told me. I want to be interesting too—it's not enough to be pretty.'

'Believe me, you're interesting,' said Harry. 'You're headstrong, and witty, and you know a lot about certain topics. You're showing me a world I know little about and need to learn how to navigate.'

'You certainly do,' she said. 'Admittedly, you've done shockingly well, but I get the impression it's largely been by accident.'

'That's probably true. I think it's only recently that I've become more strategic, like with Rita Skeeter. I wasn't even very strategic during the war—I mostly acted on instinct.' He mused, 'Perhaps I would have done better in Slytherin after all.'

'You did rather well in this Slytherin,' she said saucily. 'Daughter of Slytherins, anyway. Speaking of which, why weren't you in Slytherin, if you're a Parselmouth?'

'There are two answers to that,' replied Harry. 'One is that I'm no longer a Parselmouth—that part of me died with Voldemort. The second is that the Sorting Hat offered me Slytherin, and I refused because I'd heard it had turned out more Dark wizards than any other house.'

'You're not a Parselmouth anymore?' she exclaimed. 'I didn't know an ability could disappear like that.'

'I can't share the details, because they're classified, but it had to do with the prophecy and why I was able to defeat Voldemort.'

'You really are fascinating—everything about you. Other wizards are better looking, and taller certainly, but you're just magnetic. How do I get to be like that?'

'I don't even know how to respond,' said Harry. 'I can assure you, nobody thought I was magnetic before I entered the wizarding world.'

'Yes, I read about that. Your childhood sounded ghastly—I can't believe your relations mistreated you so badly, and Albus Dumbledore as well. I was impressed you didn't want revenge, but of course my family thought you were daft.' She noticed his expression and added, 'Oh dear, you've gone pale. Shouldn't I have mentioned that?'

He took a deep breath. 'I'm still not accustomed to everyone knowing the details of my childhood. I hadn't even told my closest mates about it, and now it's common knowledge.'

'I cried when I read it,' she said. 'You were so small in those Muggle photographs, and you looked so lonely.'

'I was,' he said quietly. 'Receiving my Hogwarts letter was the best day of my life. It meant I was free.'

'That's how I feel today,' she said. 'I'm not stupid, I know my situation isn't the same as yours. But I feel like I've escaped from a cramped cupboard and into a new world, just as you did.'

Harry looked at his plate, unsure how to respond. He finally said, 'I'm glad I could help. And not just because it was fun for me too. I'm glad your world is bigger now. It's awful feeling trapped.' He took another deep breath and asked, 'What did your family think about that article?'

'It confirmed everything they already believed about Dumbledore, that he didn't deserve his reputation as some kind of saint. But of course Rita Skeeter's book already did that. As for you, they think you're damaged. My grandfather said, "No wonder he's not a proper wizard," and they said what a tragedy it is for the Blacks that you're Head of House.'

He sighed heavily and said, 'I shouldn't be surprised. I'll never satisfy everyone.'

'You satisfied me,' she said, her eyes gleaming. 'And my grandfather's wrong—you are a proper wizard. And if you're damaged, I want to be damaged too, because I think you're brilliant. Even if your hair is appalling.'

He reached across the table and stroked her hand. 'You're magnetic too,' he said. 'And not just because you're pretty or because you're a Travers. You're incredibly alive—that's why everyone here is looking at you.'

She surveyed the restaurant. 'They are, you're right. Have they been looking at me the whole time?'

'Not since we first sat down. Not while you were gossiping about people. But just now, when you started speaking more passionately, they noticed you again.'

'How odd,' she said distractedly.

They spoke about lighter topics for a while until a young couple approached the table. Harry knew instantly that the witch was Lydia's sister Esme—her hair was darker, but they had the same aristocratic features and pouty lips. And the wizard behind her could only be Charles, who was six feet tall and elegantly clad in fitted robes.

'Lydia,' whispered Esme sharply, her face perfectly composed. 'I see you didn't have the decency to remain behind closed doors with your ... lover.'

Harry rose and turned to Lydia. 'Do you need privacy?'

'It's too late for privacy,' snapped Esme quietly, never losing her pleasant expression. 'I'm Esme Selwyn,' she said to Harry, not offering her hand. 'And this is my husband Charles.'

Nodding politely, Harry extended his hand to Charles, who looked down at him from his superior height and responded with a brief handshake. Those are nice gloves, thought Harry absently.

Esme saw the freesia at Harry's lapel. 'You scoundrel!' she hissed. 'She was innocent. And now look at her.'

Lydia stood and said, 'Don't blame him. It was my decision, and he was more than considerate. A gentleman, even.'

'A gentleman,' scoffed Charles. 'Ruining a young witch, for a weekend's amusement. Couldn't you find any Muggles, or are you still waiting for those condoms?'

'Lydia is of age and is capable of making her own decisions,' replied Harry coolly. 'And if you're implying I forced her, we should finish this conversation outside.'

Esme grasped Charles's arm. 'I'm certain that won't be necessary,' she said. 'This is a family matter.'

'Am I still part of the family?' asked Lydia. 'Or have I been cast out?'

'Mother is beside herself,' said Esme. 'She needed a Calming Draught. You can stay with Charles and me tonight.'

'And what if I want to stay with Harry?' she countered. 'You'll just berate me.'

'I can't stop you,' said Esme. You've made your bed,' she added, emphasising the final word.

'And it was brilliant,' replied Lydia, with a flush of pleasure. 'I don't regret it.'

'You will.' Esme turned to Harry and said, 'Good day, Mr Potter.' She turned and walked sharply across the restaurant to an empty table, her husband in tow.

Harry took Lydia's arm. 'Are you all right?' he asked, his head near hers.

'Yes, I'm fine,' she replied automatically, sitting down. 'I knew they'd come. They always take brunch here at eleven.' She looked down and asked, 'May I stay with you again tonight? I should have asked first.'

He sat facing her and took her hand. 'Of course. I have a commitment this afternoon but you're perfectly welcome in the house, and Kreacher can provide whatever you need.'

'I have my own house-elf. I can send for her.' Her breathing became more shallow. 'I've really done it. This is really happening.'

'Now is the hardest part,' he said. 'The transition.'

She nodded and took a long sip of water. 'Yes, the transition.' She looked around the restaurant and said, 'I feel as if I'd been freed from Azkaban but I'm still waiting on the island for no apparent reason.'

'We can go if you like,' he said. 'I can just leave some Galleons on the table.'

'No, we mustn't run out like that. But please ask for the bill.'

Harry raised his hand to attract the waiter's attention, which worked immediately because everyone was still staring at them. 'We'd like our bill please,' he said.

'Yes, sir. Of course.'

She was beginning to cry. 'This is just a tiny corner of the world,' said Harry. 'I've never even been here before today.'

'You're right,' she sniffled. 'Maybe we should go to the Leaky Cauldron,' she added chokingly.

He stroked her hand gently. 'I have a better idea.'

The waiter returned with the bill, and Harry placed coins on the table while Lydia cried softly. He went to her side, took her hand, and escorted her towards the exit. She walked through the room with her head held high as everyone watched them, and Harry whispered, 'I think you might be a Gryffindor after all.'

She smiled, and Harry led her to down the alley to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The store was crowded with customers, and Harry realised there was little more than a week until school started. 'Did you look around the shop when you were here for the broadcast?' he asked her.

'No, I arrived late and was near the back. It took me a while to work up the courage to come.'

'And were you ever here before that?"

'No, Weasleys are blood traitors—I only went to Gambol and Japes.'

'This is much better, let me show you.'

For the next half hour they explored the shop, and she was delighted by all the novelty items. George showed them around and made jokes at Harry's expense, but he also insisted they try every sweet and firework. 'He's our original backer,' George told Lydia. 'He won't let us repay him, so we're slowly making it up to him with Canary Creams and a lifetime of free visits with Walburga—would you like to meet her?'

'I don't know,' said Lydia. 'I'm not certain I'm ready to hear how I've thrown my life away for a night of debauchery with a filthy half-blood.'

'Nonsense,' replied George. 'I find Walburga always lifts my spirits. Come on, I insist.'

He led them to Walburga's booth and used his wand to open it. 'Mrs Black,' he said. 'Walburga? I've brought Harry and his newest friend, Miss Lydia Travers.'

Walburga's eyes blinked open. 'Travers? Has the lecherous half-blood taken my advice and found a vessel worthy of the Black seed?'

'She's more than worthy,' confirmed Harry.

'And there's been plenty of seed,' Lydia giggled.

'I'm glad to hear it,' said Walburga. 'I trust you'll control him with the requisite potions?'

'Er, which potions are you referring to?' asked Harry.

'She'll know, if she's a Travers.'

'Yes, ma'am,' said Lydia obediently. 'I've started brewing them already.'

'Excellent. I tried getting Kreacher to do it but the traitorous elf refused. Are you with child yet?'

'I don't think so,' she replied.

'Well get to it! And then start him on those potions—you don't want any bastards running around.'

'No, ma'am, and thank you.'

Harry tapped the portrait with his wand and turned to Lydia. 'What potions?'

'Anaphrodisiacs. To dampen your libido.'

George started laughing. 'Harry, you'd better go to Gringotts and make sure the ring protects you from those.'

'Is that really a thing?' Harry asked Lydia. 'Don't tell me you were taught to brew and administer potions like that.'

'No, but my grandmother was. She didn't teach my mother because she was afraid half-bloods and blood traitors were outbreeding families like ours.'

'I wonder what gave her that impression,' smirked Harry, looking at George.

'I think it's safe to say those potions aren't in the Weasley Grimoire,' he replied.

Lydia smiled and said, 'Thanks, George. You were right about Walburga—I do feel better. Harry, can we stop at an apothecary before returning to the house?'

'No, I'm planning to sire several bastards this week. But maybe next week.'

George grinned and said, 'We intended to ward the radio booth to make you forget your name, but we may have to postpone it. Lydia, do you want to join us on the air?'

'No. Appearing on the radio is vulgar.'

Harry laughed and said, 'You were willing to snog in public and turn up at Dunnings with an obvious sex hangover, but appearing on the radio is vulgar?'

'Correct.'

'Potter, you really know how to pick them,' said George jovially. 'Would you two like to come to Sunday dinner at the Burrow tonight? I'd give anything to see Molly and Arthur attempt to make conversation.'

'No thanks, I'm already having Narcissa Malfoy to tea this afternoon. By the time dinner rolls around, I'll probably want to eat fish and chips from a newspaper in a park.'

'Narcissa Malfoy is coming to tea?' asked Lydia. 'Whatever for?'

'Her sister, Andromeda Tonks, is trying to arrange a reconciliation. They're both Blacks by birth.'

'Good luck with that,' she said. 'The Malfoys are as bad as the Traverses.'

'Harry can't resist a challenge,' said George. 'If he can turn the Cannons around, he can certainly handle a Malfoy.'

'I'm not so sure, but thanks for the vote of confidence. See you on Tuesday,' said Harry, and soon he and Lydia were back at Grimmauld Place. Rita Skeeter's letter awaited them:

Dear Miss Travers,

I would be delighted to make your acquaintance, and naturally I'll offer you the same protections Harry now has, until you can arrange a contract of your own.

Regarding your story, time is of the essence. I therefore propose meeting this afternoon—you can reach me at the Prophet, and I'll arrange a private location for our conversation.

Yours sincerely,

Rita Skeeter

'Is that what you'd like?' Harry asked her. 'Do you think you're ready to talk to her?'

Lydia sighed. 'She's right, time is of the essence. And I'm fine now—what happened earlier was just a moment of weakness.' She smiled and added, 'Did you see Charles's expression when you challenged him? I think his raised shoes stopped working for a moment. There's a reason he never took the Mark—he's no duellist.'

They sent Kreacher to the Prophet to arrange a meeting between Lydia and Rita, which would coincide with Narcissa's visit. Lydia was to meet her in private at the Leaky Cauldron, which Harry teased her about. 'How far you've fallen in a single day, from Dunnings to the Leaky Cauldron! Do you want to borrow my Invisibility Cloak?'

'Yes, please,' she said gratefully. 'I don't mind being seen places like that with you, but I'm not ready to go alone yet.'

In preparation for her stay at Grimmauld Place, she summoned her house-elf. 'Kammy, I want you to fetch my clothing, shoes, and accessories, and bring them to the wardrobe in the master bedroom, on the top floor. Also bring my diary, which is in a charmed compartment in my bedside table. And my stationery as well.'

'Yes, Miss Lydia,' said the elf, who was neatly dressed in a starched tea towel. She Disapparated somewhat less loudly than Kreacher did.

'I'm sorry to take over your house. That wasn't my intention—I'd meant to stay with Esme and Charles. But the way she looked at me ... I couldn't. Did you see it? It was that Dark Arts expression I can't stand. She wasn't like that before.'

'Yes, I first saw it on Narcissa Malfoy,' said Harry. 'Like there's a nasty smell underneath her nose.'

'Exactly,' cried Lydia. 'That's just it, and I hate it.' She embraced Harry unexpectedly and said, 'Don't ever let that happen to me.'

Taken aback, he stroked her hair and said, 'That's up to you, not me. You're right to avoid the Dark Arts—I saw up close what it does to a person.'

'You mean turn them into someone like the Dark Lord?' she asked. 'He was horrid ... he didn't even have a nose.'

'And what it did on the inside ... his soul was the most ghastly thing I've ever seen.'

She was astonished. 'You saw the Dark Lord's soul?'

'Yes, and I can't say more, because it's classified. But it was awful—never, ever perform Dark magic.'

'I won't, unless someone's attacking me.'

'No, not even then.'

'But I might be killed otherwise,' she argued.

'There are worse things than dying.'

He gave her a full tour of the house, and she was impressed by the library. 'This is even bigger than my grandfather's,' she said. 'Is that your Grimoire?'

'Yes, and don't touch it. Only Hermione and I can touch it safely.'

Lydia was aghast. 'Hermione Granger can touch your Grimoire? Are you married?'

'No, all we needed to do was place a few drops of our blood inside the cover.'

'That's fortunate,' said Lydia. 'It's one thing to be ruined, but to sleep with another witch's husband is something else entirely.'

Kammy arrived with two large trunks containing Lydia's belongings and unpacked her summer clothes into Harry's wardrobe. 'It's a good thing you have plenty of room,' said Lydia. 'I refuse to live out of a trunk like some vagrant.'

Harry smirked, looking at the trunk that had formerly contained Lydia's summer clothes. It expanded into a large and elegant armoire, which was nearly as nice as his own walk-in wardrobe. A small maker's mark inside said Strauss Leather Goods.

They spent an enjoyable but restrained twenty minutes on his bed until it was time to greet Andromeda. She was to arrive before Narcissa, which Harry considered fortuitous, since he wanted to introduce her to Lydia. They'd both fled Dark families, and perhaps Andromeda could give her advice.

'Harry, you've done a poor job staying out of the Prophet this week,' said Andromeda when she emerged from the fireplace. 'Oh, you still have company. Miss Travers, I presume?' she said, extending her hand.

'Yes,' replied Lydia, taking Andromeda's hand and kneeling slightly. 'And you're Madam Tonks? Harry speaks very highly of you. It's a pleasure to meet you.'

'Call me Andromeda,' she said. 'And I hope you'll permit me to call you Lydia.'

Lydia smiled and said, 'Yes, please.' They walked together to the drawing room and she added, 'I understand you were disowned by your family years ago.'

'Yes, when I married my husband, Ted. He was Muggle-born.'

'Whereas I've omitted the husband,' replied Lydia. 'Did you know you wanted to leave before you met your husband, or was it only after?'

'I couldn't say. I met Ted in school, and our relationship coincided with my distancing myself from what I'd been taught as a girl.'

'I don't think that's true,' interjected Harry. 'Sirius said you were always his favourite cousin.'

'Perhaps, but consider the competition,' she said. 'Bellatrix in particular. And Narcissa always thought he was too wild.'

'He probably was,' acknowledged Harry. They were seated on a sofa and an armchair, and he told Andromeda, 'I think Lydia's still in shock, and she might benefit from some reassurance that she made the right decision in rejecting blood purity and all the rest.'

'Blood purity's a load of rubbish,' replied Andromeda sharply. 'I married Ted, and our daughter was the first Metamorphmagus we'd had in generations. And Dora married a werewolf and had a Metamorphmagus as well.'

'You let your daughter marry a werewolf?' exclaimed Lydia, shocked.

Andromeda and Harry both laughed. 'There was no preventing Dora from doing what she wanted,' she replied. 'But yes, I gave her my blessing. Remus was a fine man, although rather older than she was. Not that it matters now.'

'They both died in the war,' explained Harry. 'Andromeda's raising their son, my godson. And how is Teddy? Where is he right now?'

'With a babysitter. And he's thriving—he absolutely loves that broomstick you gave him.'

'Excellent, I had Kreacher prepare a room for him. It's the second on the right—Sirius's old room. I couldn't take down his posters, including the bikini-clad Muggles, since he'd attached them with a Permanent Sticking Charm, but we covered them with new wallpaper. You should feel free to come over anytime.'

'I won't come unannounced,' she said, turning towards Lydia. 'But back to your decision ... I must say, you've been bold about it. I'd have been disowned for being that disobedient, regardless of my actions. But I can certainly understand why you wanted out of that world, particularly now that Dark families are at a disadvantage. Are you able to support yourself?'

'Yes, I'm independent,' replied Lydia without providing details.

'Oh, then there's no reason not to. If you don't mind gossip, and you're not afraid to have children with someone who's not a pure-blood—which you shouldn't be—then you'll be much happier outside your gilded cage.' She paused and added, 'But take my advice: don't burn bridges with your family. I had two sisters, and of course there was no hope with Bellatrix, but I went decades without talking to Narcissa, and we've only recently begun to reconcile.'

Lydia nodded soberly. 'I know you're right, but I can't face them right now. Harry's letting me stay here.'

Andromeda raised an eyebrow, and Harry said, 'She'll be away this afternoon, during Narcissa's visit.'

'That's fortunate. You didn't time things very strategically.'

'Since when have I been strategic?' asked Harry.

'Gryffindors,' said Andromeda. 'Harry's the worst of the lot.'

'The Hat wanted to put me into Slytherin,' he countered.

'Yes, and it's the only thing that might have cured you. But I have no idea what world we'd be living in if it had done.'

She conferred with Kreacher to review what he was planning to serve, and Harry led Lydia to the fireplace and added her to the Floo wards. He gave her his Invisibility Cloak and said, 'You don't have to answer all of Rita's questions. She'll ask you for every last detail, but you needn't provide them.'

'You mean you don't want her to know everything we did last night?'

'I'm afraid that's coming out soon enough—apparently my last partner is selling her account to some publication or other.'

'The French witch?'

'Er, no ... someone since then.'

'Not since Thursday, I hope!'

'No, on Monday. And I'm not planning to see her again ... she was nowhere near as interesting as you are.'

'Even though I was a virgin?'

'That's not what I meant. I meant her conversation.'

'I'm relieved to hear it, particularly now that I've moved in. I promise I'll find a flat in short order. But you need to schedule a party, as soon as possible.'

'Is next weekend soon enough?' he asked.

'Yes, that's perfect.'

She left through the fireplace, and he returned to Andromeda in the drawing room. 'Harry, that was terribly unwise.'

He frowned. 'How do you mean?'

'I'm certain Narcissa was considering Lydia as a match for Draco, and now you've taken her out of the running.'

'Lydia took herself out of the running. I was merely the instrument.'

'She couldn't have done it more thoroughly. I don't disagree with her decision to leave that world, but choosing you ... and doing it so publicly! I almost owled you on Friday morning, but I assumed it was too late.'

'No, I insisted we take it slowly,' he said, and Andromeda snorted derisively.

'Yes, three days instead of one ... that was positively glacial. You should at least wear flowers other than the freesia she was wearing last night. Really, Harry, parading a girl's innocence like that!'

'She chose them. I was merely the instrument,' he repeated.

'At least Narcissa needn't worry you'll let the line die out. But you ought to be more discreet.'

'I can't be more discreet, unless you want me to go to a portkey brothel, which I only just learnt about. I haven't any privacy, and don't tell me to find a nice witch and settle down, because I tried.'

Andromeda's expression softened. 'You're right. And with that other witch as well ... Helena?'

He nodded. 'She's the one who made me promise not to marry before I'm twenty-one. I didn't make that up.'

'Then I suppose I can't fault you. But really, your timing was appalling. And change those flowers immediately—I'll go wait in the reception hall.'

Harry dashed upstairs and selected a blue and white clematis boutonnière, which signified ingenuity. When Andromeda saw it she nodded and said, 'Ingenuity was another Black trait. I daresay Hermione embodies it more strongly than you do, but we needn't tell Narcissa that.'

A minute later, the fireplace flared green and Narcissa Malfoy emerged gracefully from it. She approached Andromeda and air-kissed her. 'Dromeda,' she said in a neutral tone. 'How lovely to see you.'

'Cissa,' replied Andromeda. 'I'm pleased you could make it.'

Narcissa haughtily extended her hand to Harry. 'I don't actually know what I should call you,' she said, as he shook her hand lightly.

'I was wondering the same thing about you,' he admitted. 'But please, call me Harry.'

'Then you may call me Narcissa. It appears we're family, although I'm curious to see the tapestry for myself.'

Harry decided to ignore the implication they were deceiving her and allowed Andromeda to lead them to the drawing room. This required passing Padfoot, who started growling when he saw Narcissa. Remarkable, thought Harry. Does he know that Narcissa's treachery resulted in Sirius's death?

Narcissa coolly assessed the hostile portrait. 'I understand Aunt Walburga is a sort of exhibit at a joke shop.'

'She's not sentient,' replied Harry. 'It was either that or incinerating her.'

Narcissa said nothing, and they walked upstairs and entered the drawing room. Kreacher had reattached the original wallpaper, so the room looked better than it had in years, but Narcissa turned her gaze to the tapestry.

'Toujours puissant,' she read aloud.

'That was the original motto,' said Andromeda.

'Yes, I know.'

Narcissa spent a long time examining the tapestry, and Harry thought he detected a smirk when she noticed Priapus Maximus. 'I see your daughter is there,' she remarked to Andromeda. 'And your husband. I'm certain that's a comfort to you.'

'It is.'

Narcissa's eyes appeared to rest on Draco's name before she finally looked for Harry's great-grandmother and followed the lines down to Harry. 'It's true then,' she said resignedly. 'You're a Black.'

'According to the tapestry, yes,' replied Harry.

'And the ring as well, although that could have been influenced by goblin magic,' said Narcissa. 'But there's no arguing with the tapestry.'

Walburga argued with it all the time, thought Harry.

'And I see there are other new Blacks as well,' she added, indicating the restored branches. 'I suppose we aren't as rare as I previously believed. Have you contacted them?'

'Yes, Harry owled them several weeks ago. Only two families are still in Britain, and this whole branch is in Canada,' said Andromeda. 'The Canadian representative asked for a photograph of the tapestry and would enjoy corresponding about family history, but otherwise they don't seem interested in establishing close ties. Although they were impressed that Harry was Head of House, and we're encouraged to visit if we're ever in that part of the world.'

'And the British families?'

'This family was surprised to learn they were related to us,' said Andromeda, indicating another branch. 'Apparently they're descended from a Squib, and it was several generations before magic resurfaced. Strongly, in fact—they've two Metamorphmagi currently living.'

'Interesting,' said Narcissa.

'And the other family changed their surname about seventy years ago. Perseus Black was cast out for rejecting the Dark Arts, so he changed his name to White, and that's what all his descendants are called. But the tapestry still calls them Black.'

Just then, Kreacher entered the room with a tea tray, which was laden with tiny sandwiches, pastries, and a pot of tea. 'Mistress Cissa,' he said, bowing low. 'Kreacher is honoured to serve so many of the family all at once.'

'It's lovely to see you, Kreacher,' said Narcissa, more warmly than she'd spoken to Harry. 'I hope you're satisfied with your present circumstances.'

Is she implying that I mistreat him? Harry thought. Admittedly Sirius had mistreated him—which had led to Narcissa capturing his loyalty and tricking Harry into rescuing Sirius at the Ministry when he was actually safe at home.

'Kreacher is overjoyed to serve Master,' was the elf's cheerful reply. 'Master entertains guests frequently.'

'I'm certain he does,' said Narcissa.

Andromeda served the tea, and she attempted to keep the conversation light. But it was difficult, considering Narcissa's husband was in Azkaban and her son, Harry's former nemesis, was under house arrest. After yet another icy silence, Narcissa finally asked Harry, 'Do you intend to change your name?'

'Yes,' he said simply.

Her expression didn't change. 'Why? You made your name as a Potter. I thought you were so devoted to your parents' memory.'

'I am, which is why I'm planning to hyphenate.' She looked at him blankly, and he said, 'Harry Potter-Black. It's a Muggle custom, when two families are joined.'

'I see. And to what end? Will this become House Potter-Black?' she asked, gesturing towards the tapestry.

'No, there's no such thing as House Potter. I'll give my children both surnames, and they can choose when they're older. Ideally I'll have more than one son.'

She paused, seemingly unsure which conversational thread to follow. 'But why do you even want to affiliate yourself with House Black? In spite of what others might say, I don't believe you're socially ambitious.'

'I'm not. But Sirius's last request—his last written request—was that I remake the Blacks as a Light family. And I take that responsibility seriously, if you'll pardon the pun.' Harry paused before adding, 'Sirius was also the closest thing I've had to a father, that I can remember. I may resemble James Potter, but the father I think of every day and actively miss is Sirius Black.'

'He wasn't much of a father,' she said haughtily. 'He ran after Pettigrew instead of looking after you. He abandoned you to those Muggles.'

'He did it impetuously, and it was his greatest regret. Surely you've made decisions you regret. Decisions you made much more calmly, I'll wager.'

Harry looked at her fixedly, and to her credit she didn't look away. 'I have done. And I've lived with the consequences.'

'Sirius didn't have that luxury,' he replied sharply, with more emotion than he'd intended. 'He charged me with reinventing House Black, and I intend to honour that wish. And more than one person has pointed out to me that the fastest way to do it is by changing my name.'

Narcissa was quiet a moment. Her eyes still meeting his, she said, 'You seem convinced that House Black can only benefit by association with you.'

'As far as Dark magic is concerned, yes. In other respects, perhaps not. I'm only one person, and clearly I have my faults.'

'And your vices,' said Narcissa.

'I'm nineteen. I'm not misleading anyone.'

'You ruined a girl!' she snapped. 'She was innocent and you ruined her.'

'For Merlin's sake, what year is this—1999 or 1899? It was her decision to pursue me, not the other way around. And she's not ruined, like a melted cauldron! She simply has experience now.'

Narcissa shook her head angrily. 'You have no respect for wizarding tradition. For centuries, young witches from the best families have behaved according to certain rules.'

'Yes, and young wizards go to portkey brothels. How is Draco managing under house arrest? Do you import prostitutes for him, or is he using "charms for the single wizard?"'

'Harry!' admonished Andromeda. 'That's quite enough!'

'No, it's not enough! Sirius is dead because of Narcissa's manipulations. Hermione was tortured in your house.'

'So were we,' snapped Narcissa. 'You know what he was … what the Dark Lord was.'

'And didn't you? Or did you only decide he was a monster when you fell out of favour? Wasn't it enough that he'd murdered hundreds of people, including my parents, and Cedric Diggory?'

'Harry, this is water under the bridge,' said Andromeda. 'Narcissa saved your life. And so did Draco.'

'And I saved his, from Fiendfyre. I kept him out of Azkaban.'

'All of that's true,' agreed Andromeda. 'And you also nearly killed him with Dark magic, and vice versa. But you're family—we're family—and you need to find common ground.'

Harry took a deep breath before facing Narcissa again. 'Andromeda's right, we need to find common ground. I'll tell you what I want ... I want to make amends with Draco. I want to prevent the next war.'

After a silence, Narcissa said, 'I want that as well. Although you won't have an easy time with him.'

'No, I've behaved poorly. I should never have sent my Patronus to Malfoy Manor—I apologise. I'd apologise on the air but I assume that would make things worse.'

'You're right,' said Narcissa. 'You'll need to visit.'

'I'm not going to grovel,' he said. 'I'll apologise for what I've done, but I shan't beg. And besides, we have friends in common now, so I don't think it's impossible we could learn to get along.'

'Perhaps not. But there's something I want as well.' Harry looked at her, and she continued. 'I can't stop you from changing your name, but please, don't do it right away. I know you're a Gryffindor and do everything on impulse, but wait for this Travers business to settle down.'

Harry nodded. 'I suspect you and I have different ideas about when that might be, but I'll agree in principle. And I won't say anything else publicly on the subject. But I'm planning to host another party next weekend, and everyone will see the tapestry.'

'Yes, of course,' said Andromeda, who seemed relieved by the apparent détente. 'Everyone knows already, because of what happened at the Wizengamot. But you can certainly wait before making things official.'

'You won't marry the girl, will you?' asked Narcissa.

Harry was taken aback. 'Would you approve if I did?'

'She's a Travers. If your children married pure-bloods, their children would probably be accepted as such.'

'Toujours pur is history,' scoffed Harry. 'The motto on the tapestry changed as soon as my mother appeared on it, and Ted Tonks as well. I'll marry who I like, and not before I'm twenty-one. And besides, Lydia doesn't want to get married either.'

'She might only be telling you that,' warned Narcissa.

'I questioned her under Veritaserum, before we even had dinner on Thursday night. She doesn't want to marry me.'

Narcissa looked impressed. 'There may be hope for you yet, as a Black. But do try to avoid scandal, for the family's sake.'

'I'm afraid I rather like causing a scandal,' he admitted. 'And there's more to come ... apparently a witch I met sold her story to some magazine. I don't know when it's coming out.' He hoped his attempt to look sheepish was working, but he suspected it wasn't.

'Harry!' scolded Andromeda.

'I didn't sell my story! I turned down a sponsorship from Silver Arrow to avoid appearing mercenary. My only endorsements have been for flowers and wallpaper.'

'He'll probably increase the family assets,' observed Andromeda. 'And he certainly dresses like a proper wizard.'

'Small mercies,' replied Narcissa, but her expression was softer than before. She's pretty when she doesn't have that Dark Arts sneer, he thought. Thank goodness Lydia will never have it.

The conversation went more smoothly after that. Narcissa promised to ask Draco when a good time to visit would be, and Harry refrained from making a snide comment about Draco's busy schedule. She left after a suitable interval, and Harry and Andromeda discussed how things had gone.

'You had me worried for a bit,' she confessed.

'It needed to be said. She and I both did terrible things during the war, and Draco as well. I only hope he and I are able to get past it.'

'I hope so too, but I'm not optimistic. He's quite bitter. He was to be Lord Malfoy and Lord Black, with an enormous fortune. Instead he has half the Malfoy assets and a Dark Mark on his forearm.'

'I assume it's fading,' said Harry. 'My scar is.'

'Yes, I'd noticed that. But you didn't take your scar willingly, as he did with the Mark. That kind of harmful intent doesn't fade quickly.'

They spoke a little longer before Harry said, 'Thank you, Andromeda. I can't tell you what it means to have someone looking out for me, someone I respect. And don't be shy about putting me in my place when I need it, as you did with the Patronus.'

'I won't,' she promised, and they hugged before she left.

Harry went up to his bedroom, hoping to find Lydia there, and he wasn't disappointed. Furthermore, she was wearing shockingly provocative undergarments from what appeared to be a vast collection.

'Is this the sort of thing you wore while being courted?' he asked.

'Yes—I daresay most virginal pure-bloods do. It was my only outlet.'

'I may have to start collecting knickers, if this is the type I have to choose from,' he said, pulling at them.

'Don't you want to know how my interview went?' she asked before he was able to make much progress.

'I meant to ask you, but I was distracted somehow.'

'Then close your eyes!' she said. 'And sit over there ... I seem to recall your extolling the virtues of anticipation.'

'Well played,' he replied, sitting at the foot of the bed. 'How was your interview?'

'I thought it went well. There was a photographer, and he took my picture next to the window so you wouldn't know we were in a tavern. And Rita wanted to hear how I'd come to my decision, and why I fancied you, and whether you'd been a gentleman.'

'Whether I'd been a gentleman? I think by definition I wasn't.'

'But you didn't seduce me or try to get me drunk, and you kept verifying it was what I wanted, and so forth. Rita was very impressed you took such pains to make sure my first time was perfect.'

'And was it?' he asked, moving back towards her on the bed.

She was in the middle of answering when a bell chimed out of nowhere. That's not Kreacher's gong, thought Harry, puzzled.

'Yes?' said Lydia, who seemed to recognise the bell.

A high, disembodied voice said, 'Miss Lydia, Kammy has a letter to deliver.'

'On the bedside table,' she replied. 'I'll call you when I need you again.'

'Very good, Miss Lydia.'

A letter appeared next to the bed, and Lydia reached for it languidly. 'It's for you,' she told Harry. 'It must be from my parents.'

'From your parents? Not a Howler, I hope.'

'Kammy would never give me a Howler. You should read it.'

He took the letter from her and opened it:

Dear Mr Potter,

I can't say I ever expected to write to you, and certainly not under these circumstances. But life is full of unpleasant surprises, and so here we are.

Until Friday morning, when my wife and I had the great misfortune of seeing our daughter's photograph in the Prophet, we believed we'd raised a proper young witch who would only be a credit to her family. We now know we were naïve and perhaps blind to her dissatisfaction. After all, these are challenging times for a family of our affiliation, and particularly for someone of Lydia's tender age.

My father—Lydia's grandfather—is outraged by her defection and is prepared to disinherit her. I was able, however, to persuade him to reconsider under the following conditions: (1) Lydia leave your house immediately and either return home or stay with Esme, as she prefers. (2) You commence an accelerated courtship, according to wizarding norms. (3) You propose marriage in no more than four weeks. (4) You abstain from further intimacy until after you're married. (5) You change your surname to Black.

In return, you would be given permission to marry her, and you would be received in our house just as Esme and Charles are. Lydia would receive her full marriage portion as well as her eventual inheritance from her mother and me—hopefully many years hence. This would include jewellery and family heirlooms Lydia has long been told would be hers.

I persuaded my father to allow you to continue your career as a Seeker with an understanding that, after you retire, you either find employment at the Ministry or choose to live as a gentleman of leisure, should your income be sufficient. Our family's influence would ensure you a rewarding Ministry post and spare you the necessity of sitting your N.E.W.T.s. Note that a position as an Auror or with any other active branch of law enforcement would not be considered acceptable.

I think you'll agree this is a very generous offer, particularly given the situation thus far. We await a reply at your earliest possible convenience.

Yours truly,

Desmond Travers

Harry was dumbstruck. Which he realised was fortunate, given what he was likely to say. Lydia was dumbstruck as well, and only after a long silence she asked him, 'What do you think?'

What do I think? thought Harry. I think it's the most appalling load of rot since that textbook Umbridge assigned us.

'I'm sorry, Lydia, but I can't possibly meet his terms,' he began, and she feverishly embraced him.

'Thank goodness! They're trying to un-ruin me, and I absolutely refuse! They want to turn you into Charles, and I'd have hated that. You'd just be another boring wizard and I'd be just as trapped as if I'd never run away.' She shuddered and said, 'They'd probably convince you to wear raised shoes in the end, and you'd get soft and need to wear charmed robes that hide your belly.'

'Oh Lydia, you're brilliant. I was scared you'd be tempted, but you aren't.'

'You thought I'd be tempted?' she said indignantly. 'Haven't I made my intentions clear?'

'You have done, but remember I don't have a family, so I can only imagine how hard it is to lose their approval but then have the chance to regain it.'

'Harry, I don't want their approval, or anything else from them. I don't even want you, not forever. I want my freedom, and they're trying to take it away from me.'

'But what about your family heirlooms? I haven't a single thing that belonged to my parents, other than my Invisibility Cloak, and it means the world to me.'

'If my family heirlooms included a Deathly Hallow I might feel differently, but these are items like silver wall sconces shaped like talons and a hand-carved tea set made from house-elf skulls. Believe me, I won't miss them.'

Harry laughed and kissed her. 'How should I reply? I get the impression they're waiting. And no, I'm not sending my Patronus.'

'You'll have to use your appalling stationery, which they'll notice of course.' He Summoned it from the table, along with a quill, and he used her lower back as a writing desk.

Dear Mr Travers,

Although I appreciate the generous terms you've offered, and Lydia is touched that you appealed to your father on her behalf, we both have to refuse your proposal. I have a prior commitment not to propose marriage before my twenty-first birthday, which falls well outside your four-week deadline. Furthermore, I would never give up my parents' surname—I'm the last of the Potters and feel a responsibility to carry the name forward.

Lydia adds that she too cannot accept your offer. She has no wish to marry the person you described and would probably abandon him in due course, which would leave us all where we started. She also notes that by the time you receive this reply, we'll have broken requirement #4, regarding further premarital intimacy.

Although I'm sure we'd have got on swimmingly as in-laws, particularly given our long history of shared values, we must remain as we are, allied only by our deep wish for your daughter's happiness.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter

'Say goodbye to that tea set,' said Harry as he sealed and addressed the letter. 'Whose house-elf should deliver it?'

'Yours. He's not bound to my family, so he can just Disapparate if they start throwing things at him.'

Harry called Kreacher and sent him to deliver the letter. They spent a good long time keeping their word regarding item number four, and then Harry took her to dinner.

'I can't believe you've never had fish and chips,' he said. 'Are you certain you're English?'

'Yes, I'm English, and I can't see what that has to do with eating greasy food out of paper,' she said as they left the shop he'd Apparated them to. 'And the restaurant is ghastly, if you can even call it a restaurant.'

'You can't,' said Harry. 'It's a chip shop, or a chippy. And that one's downright posh compared to the one in my neighbourhood.' He led her to a nearby park bench and watched as she tasted the food he'd bought her. At first her brows drew together, as if she were unsure what to think, but then her eyes lit with pleasure and he knew his experiment had been a success.

'This is good,' she admitted. 'And I can see why the paper is useful.'

They mostly ate in silence, and he was amused to watch her struggle to eat it daintily. 'I can't believe how far you've fallen,' he said as they finished. 'Leaving out the whole ruination thing, you started the day with brunch at Dunnings, and then probably a pumpkin pasty at the Leaky Cauldron, and now you've just eaten fish and chips on a bench in a nondescript part of Muggle London.'

'Yes, and with the perfectly brilliant son of a Mudblood and a middle-class blood traitor, who won't marry me,' she said cheerfully.

'What's the opposite of proposing to someone?' he mused.

'I don't know. Surprise me.'

Harry, still holding the grease-soaked paper from his meal, wadded it into a ball and bent down on one knee. 'Lydia Travers,' he said solemnly, holding up the greasy ball, 'would you do me the great honour of never marrying me, no matter how much your parents try to bribe us?'

She took the ball and lifted it to her nose before holding it over her ring finger like a huge gem. 'Oh, Harry, yes! Yes, I won't marry you! Even if my father offers us the gravy boat made from a Nundu scapula, which is currently destined for my brother Jacob.'

'You've made me the happiest man on Earth,' he said, rising and brushing the dirt from his trousers. He kissed her, and they laughed while walking hand in hand to an alley, from which he Apparated them home.