Ron looked exhausted when he stumbled from the kitchen fireplace on Saturday morning. 'Sweet Merlin, are you all right?' exclaimed Harry.
'Yeah, I'm fine,' said Ron unconvincingly, taking a seat at the table. 'Just finished a stakeout, though, so I'm completely knackered.'
'Then what are you doing here? Go home and sleep.'
'No, I'm starving, and all I have at home are crisps. Can I have breakfast?'
Harry called for Kreacher, who appeared with the usual loud crack and took Ron's order. The elf started cooking, and Ron set his head on the table. 'Remind me again why I took this job?' he groaned.
'Because you didn't want to go back to Hogwarts,' said Harry. 'Which I completely understand, having done the same thing.'
'Right, but you had the brains to quit, while I'm stuck paying my dues for the next decade or so.'
'Not a decade, surely!'
'No, probably not,' admitted Ron, his eyes still closed. 'But unless I take a desk job, I'll never have it easy. Ugh, I should have listened to Hermione and finished school.'
Harry suspected it was just the fatigue talking, but he wanted to be supportive. 'I bet you could change jobs if you really wanted, even without your N.E.W.T.s. Do you have something in mind?'
Ron opened his eyes, as if he hadn't anticipated Harry's response. 'Really? You think I could find something else?'
'Definitely. Everyone knows who you are, and you have more than a year of Auror training, which proves your work ethic, or something.'
'Except for the part where I quit. Although that didn't hold you back—do you reckon there's a Quidditch job I could get? Like, something behind the scenes?'
Harry took a moment to consider it. 'Security, maybe? I hear it's a big job to ward the stadium and keep it hidden. Same with the training grounds.'
'That could be cool,' said Ron. 'Do they get free tickets?'
'Maybe, but they have to work during the match. Monitoring wand use in the stands, watching for threats, and so on.'
Ron made a face. 'You're saying they work for a Quidditch team but never actually get to see a match? No thanks. What else?'
'Er, you could go into business?' said Harry uncertainly. 'Maybe Blaise has an opening. Or you could see if Percy needs help with the condom scheme. Although we're not actually paying him yet.'
'Not the condom scheme—that's just asking for trouble. I mean seriously, what would people say if I quit my job and then announced I was going into "business" without providing details? They'd arrest me on the spot. And you too, since you'd be the obvious backer.'
'Hmm, good point. And they'd probably nail Draco as well.'
'That would at least be a silver lining,' said Ron. 'But what about Blaise Zabini's business? Potions ingredients, right?'
'Yeah. Although, come to think of it, a lot of it's based in Italy. Better climate or something. But I think he'll have a sales team in England, and maybe a warehouse.'
Harry instantly realised how lame that sounded, and Ron's expression confirmed it. Ron sighed and said, 'It's really the Ministry or nothing, isn't it?'
'There are shops,' said Harry feebly, thinking of all the underemployed non-Hogwarts alumni he'd met. 'Actually, that's not a bad idea. What about the joke shop?'
'Work for George?' said Ron, sitting up.
'Yeah, why not? Your name's on the storefront, even. And he can't hold your lack of N.E.W.T.s against you.'
'That's true. But what would I do there? I can't see myself enchanting objects or brewing potions all day. Which just leaves me working the till.'
'Not necessarily. Don't they sell protective items to the DMLE? I bet you could coordinate that somehow. Help them work with the Department to figure out what's needed most.'
'Huh, maybe.'
Kreacher arrived with Ron's breakfast, and Ron looked thoughtful as he ate. 'Are you really that unhappy as an Auror?' asked Harry. 'I thought you liked it.'
'I do, kind of. But it's such a crap lifestyle. Overnight stakeouts, department politics, always worrying about Dark wizards ...'
Harry wasn't sure what to say, since he was thrilled not to be an Auror anymore. 'Have you mentioned this to Kingsley?' he asked.
'No, I never really thought about it before now. Well, that's not entirely true—people asked me about it when you left, but clearly I wasn't going to start playing league Quidditch out of nowhere. And I figured one of us should keep hunting Death Eaters. They're still out there, you know.'
His last sentence came out sharply, like a reproach, and for a moment Harry felt as if he'd been stung. But Ron looked more sheepish than judgmental, and Harry realised he was criticising himself. 'And why is that your responsibility?' asked Harry.
'Well, someone has to do it. I mean, I don't blame you for quitting—you've done enough. And obviously Hermione was never going to become an Auror. So that just leaves me.'
Harry stared at him, wondering if Ron would notice the gaping flaw in his logic. But he didn't, and Harry finally said, 'But why should any of us have to be Aurors if we don't want to?'
Ron blinked. 'But that's what we've always done. We fought Voldemort, or Umbridge, or whoever. Plus, I'm a Weasley, and–' He stopped short.
There was silence as Ron's world rearranged itself. 'Blimey, everyone else in the family has a job they actually like, and no one thinks they're shirking. Bill could have done anything, but he went where the gold was. And Dad's made a whole career out of tinkering with Muggle rubbish.' After another pause, he blurted, 'Ginny plays Quidditch, for Merlin's sake!'
'Don't forget Charlie,' said Harry. 'He just likes dragons.'
'Charlie! Barely even comes home to visit! And here I'm crammed behind a bookcase all night waiting for some dickhead to turn up with a cask of unicorn blood!' Harry's eyes shot open, and Ron said, 'Er, forget I mentioned that.'
'Gladly,' said a horrified Harry. 'So, what are you going to do?'
Ron looked ashen. 'I have no bloody idea. I can't just quit without lining up another job—not like someone I know. And I should definitely get some sleep first, in case I'm just whinging. But maybe I should ask my dad, or Bill. And George, of course.'
'Not your mum?' joked Harry.
'Actually, she'd be overjoyed. It scares her to death that I'm an Auror—whenever I come home for Sunday dinner, I catch her looking me over for new scars.' Ron frowned and said, 'Still, I can't just quit. It turns out I'm a pretty good Auror, or I will be once I finish training. But if I quit, I'm just leaving everyone in the lurch.'
'Like I did?' said Harry pointedly.
'That's not what I meant. And frankly, you were never a good fit. You're way too famous, and it was just a matter of time before Death Eaters started planting false intel to draw you out.'
'Right,' said Harry, recalling a similar warning from Bill when he took the job.
'Besides, you needed to turn the Cannons around, which was definitely a higher calling. But I'd just be ditching the other Aurors and making them do the hard work.'
If Hermione had been present, Harry would have looked for her reaction. He still feels bad about leaving us in the forest. 'May I point out that, unlike the other Auror trainees, you already spent years fighting Voldemort, mostly without the benefit of proper training?'
'Yeah, I know,' said Ron, clearly uncomfortable. 'But the other Aurors and I have really connected, and it would feel like, I dunno, some kind of betrayal to just quit.'
It wasn't a betrayal, thought Harry, it was a bloody Horcrux. 'There are other ways to fight Dark wizards, you know. At least that's what I tell myself.'
'Right, Light magic. But that's another thing—everyone's expecting me to become a Light wizard, particularly now that Hermione's got it. Merlin only knows if I'll succeed, but I know the Department's really setting their hopes on me.'
'I'm sure they are,' said Harry. 'But frankly, I'd never have developed Light magic if I still worked for the Department. I'm not saying it's impossible, but the pressure probably doesn't help.'
Ron was silent for a moment as he ate. 'If I quit, but then I develop Light magic, I'm sure the Department would take me back. Or I could just come in for special missions, like they offered Hermione.'
Harry couldn't imagine wanting to do that himself, but it might work for Ron, so he said it sounded like a good idea. 'But definitely sleep on it,' he added.
'Oh, I will, and soon,' said Ron. 'But here's another problem: my flat. I doubt George would pay as well as the Department does, and I put most of my savings into the condom scheme. I could probably make my rent, but–'
'Live here,' blurted Harry. 'I have more than enough room, not to mention two house-elves. And the Dark magic's gone from the house now, so it's not as depressing as before.' After the war, Harry had practically begged him to move into Grimmauld Place, but Ron turned him down. He claimed he wanted his own flat, now that he could afford one, but in hindsight Harry realised that the house and his own company weren't very appealing.
'Really? You wouldn't mind? Wouldn't I be in the way?'
'I've had the entire Quidditch league here, so we know there's room. And besides, the plan is for me to stay at Fiona's more often.'
'And I usually stay at Janet's,' mused Ron. 'Although I'm sure she'd want to stay here sometimes.'
'Don't forget the breakfast in bed. She slags me about it all the time, so I'm counting on you to get her hooked.'
'Done. But what about rent? I can't just stay here for free.'
Harry rolled his eyes. 'Do we need to go through this? I got the house for free from Sirius. His family stole it from Muggles. Shall I go on?'
'Still, you must have some expenses. Groceries? Floo powder?' Smirking, he added, 'Flowers?'
They had few secrets between them, but Harry hoped Ron would never find out how much he spent on flowers every month, even with the sponsorship. 'You can pitch in on groceries if you want,' he said, knowing Ron would insist on paying for something.
'Gladly,' said Ron, and they shook hands. 'But this is null and void if I decide to stay at the Department.'
They spent a while working out the details, and Ron was too energised to go home and sleep, so he asked about Harry's week. 'I saw Fiona twice,' said Harry, 'but it's going to take a while for her son to get used to me.'
'Did you give him your underwear adverts? That'll get him used to you in no time.'
'Very funny, and no. In fact, I'm dreading him seeing them, which will probably happen any minute now.'
Ron looked horrified. 'What kind of sick bastard shows a five year-old pictures of a grown man wearing Y-fronts?'
'Everyone in the stands this afternoon. He and Fiona are coming to the match.'
'You are completely fucked!' said Ron, laughing. 'Which version do you think will be more popular, Wandlore or Sorceress?'
Harry took a deep breath, recalling his mortification on Wednesday when both magazines came out with the photos. In what appeared to be a coordinated move, Wandlore ran the photo with Sophie, and Sorceress ran the solo advert. 'For Fiona's sake I hope it's the Sorceress version, since she doesn't fancy explaining to Matthew why I'm drooling over another witch.'
'During a celibacy vow,' smirked Ron. 'Be prepared to sign them this afternoon at the Spyglass.'
'It's already happened—I went to Gringotts yesterday and someone approached me with Sorceress for an autograph.'
'Not a goblin, I hope!'
'No, a witch. But she was old enough to be my mum.'
'I thought that was Lockhart's audience,' said Ron. 'Where are his adverts?'
'Flourish and Blotts,' scowled Harry. 'His book came out.'
'Have you read it yet?'
'No, I can't bring myself to buy it. Although I'll have to eventually, if I'm giving Hermione a copy for Christmas.'
Ron had started fading again, so he went home to get some sleep before the match. Harry set aside his correspondence and looked in on Banthora. 'Any sign of him yet?'
'No, but you mustn't take it personally,' she replied. 'Typhon Black has numerous portraits, and he disappears for weeks at a time. But everyone knows you're looking for him, so he's bound to turn up soon.'
'Mightn't they try to stop him? None of the other heads of house want me to find the Star Chamber.'
'True, but they want you to enrich House Black, and Typhon is the ablest guide.'
Harry plopped dispiritedly into a chair. 'I doubt I'll want to take his advice. Hermione said he wants me to use magic to crash the Muggle stock market, and I'm sure he hates that I'm a Light wizard.'
'I'm certain he does. But he's pragmatic above all else—the quintessential Slytherin.'
'If you say so. Meanwhile, I have my first etiquette lesson tomorrow, in preparation for the social season.'
'With Miss Greengrass?'
'No, with all the Slytherins. Well, not all of them, but when Daphne mentioned it to Pansy, Pansy decided I needed a bootcamp, so they also invited Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini. You'll meet them all, since we'll wrap things up with dinner.'
'I look forward to it, and I'm pleased you're expanding your horizons. But don't lose your rough edges, because they're delightful as well.'
'Not much risk of that, I reckon. But thanks.'
When he arrived at the Cannons training grounds, he automatically gravitated towards Owen. They had drifted somewhat apart when Gemma was hired, not from enmity but because they were no longer flying together for hours at a time. Furthermore, Owen's strong objection to Harry's interest in Fiona had put a strain on their relationship. But now that Harry and Fiona were dating, and he was plainly devoted to her, the distance between Owen and Harry had vanished.
'So, what are your plans with Fiona tonight?' asked Owen during lunch. 'Jill says it'd better be something good, or else we won't look after Matthew.'
'It's good. I'm taking her to Mistigri and then to a wizarding nightclub. I originally suggested a Muggle restaurant, but she wanted to go somewhere wizarding to prove she's not upset about the photos with Sophie. She says the only thing worse than people gossiping about us dating would be people claiming we've split up.'
'I can't say I ever anticipated this side of her,' said Owen. 'But she seems to be enjoying it. And I'm sure Matthew will come around eventually.' He chuckled and added, 'I heard about his declaration of war on Thursday.'
Frowning, Harry said, 'It wasn't a declaration so much as guerrilla warfare. Terrorism, even.'
'Your memories of actual terrorism must be fading if that's how you're describing the antics of a five year-old.'
'He used accidental magic,' said Harry irritably. 'Twice.'
'Are you sure it was accidental? It sounded pretty deliberate to me.'
'If it was deliberate, it was pretty bloody impressive, reversing the Warming Charm on the bathtub from down the corridor. Even though we used Silencing Charms and he shouldn't even have known we were in there.'
'I was thinking about the other time, when Fiona sniffed your boutonnière and it farted. Although Jill thinks Rob somehow helped with that one.'
'Brilliant, just what I needed ... a vindictive ghost.'
'More playful than vindictive, I think. And it's good for Matthew, having a bit of agency. It can't be easy having to share his mum all of a sudden.'
'Do you think he'll be all right at the match? I told Fiona she could postpone, but she said he was looking forward to it, in spite of my participation.'
'He'll be fine, I think. He can read pretty well, but I doubt he'll understand what the banners are saying. Just don't snog Fiona on the pitch.'
'Cheers, I never would have worked that out myself,' said Harry dryly. 'You definitely earn your pay cheque.'
'I have two winning Seekers, don't I?'
'You do, and well done. But are there any more rumours about other teams wanting Gemma?'
Owen glanced around to make sure no one was listening. 'They're waiting to see how the broom thing plays out. She hasn't beaten you as often since switching to the Silver Arrow, but she's obviously still good. And the other team owners are noticing how popular she is, which means ticket sales. So I suspect we'll lose her next season, though I can't predict when.'
'Have you started scouting for new talent?'
'Yeah, I've been talking with Bruce and Tuttle, and he's keeping a close eye on the lesser-known schools. It's harder to evaluate player potential, since they usually fly on inferior brooms, but he's hoping to spot another diamond in the rough.'
'What about Stuart?' asked Harry, referring to the other Seeker they'd considered when hiring Gemma.
'Montrose picked him up. Reserve, of course, since Andrew Gilstrap's not going anywhere.'
Harry's throat went dry. 'Are you saying he has to fly practice matches against Gilstrap five days a week?'
'Yes. Which makes me even more relieved we hired Gemma, since she might have been stuck with that job instead. Although maybe her Light magic could have put a stop to him.'
Gemma had glowed several times that week, which she complained about after lunch. 'Yes, it's cool and magical, but it's a bloody pain in the arse if you live with Muggles. We need to keep the curtains drawn whenever I'm home now, and my mum can't have visitors.'
'What ever happened to your plans to move?' asked Harry.
'A shitty housing market happened. Everything's either too expensive, or doesn't have a fireplace, or it's too far from home.'
'Your family doesn't like Floo travel?'
'No, they don't mind it, but my mum can't very well say she saw me on Sunday if everyone knows I live in, say, Newcastle.'
'Right, good point. But hang on, Ron might be giving up his flat.'
She pressed him for details and agreed it had potential. 'But does it have that guy smell?'
'Er, I have no idea. I'd tell you to ask Janet, but she doesn't know he's considering moving, so you'll have to wait. And even if it does, I'm sure Kreacher could fix it. He's due for a punishment, and that would be right up his street.'
'Your life is seriously weird, Toffer.'
Harry sighed. 'I know.'
He was reminded of this at Chudley Stadium, where numerous banners referred to his adverts. They didn't show the actual photos, to his vast relief, but several depicted him on a broom wearing only underwear and catching the Snitch. Not if I want to perpetuate two houses, he thought, wincing. Other banners praised his physique, and two men held a banner that said, 'Take it all off, Potter!'
But there were pockets of Kenmare green amid the Cannons orange, and those banners referenced his adverts as well. One alarming banner depicted an underwear-clad Harry shielding himself from a pair of bright green Bludgers, under the heading 'Bangers and Mash.' And another showed Aidan Kiely catching the Snitch while Harry cluelessly posed for photographs.
Fiona wasn't holding a sign, but she was seated with Ryan's mum, who had her usual 'Mothers for Harry Potter' banner. Which Harry appreciated, since there were several banners condemning his adverts on moral grounds. 'Harry Potter is destroying wizarding culture!' proclaimed a sign held by a stern-looking witch. But Harry rolled his eyes, recalling the Order of Volupta's favourable response when he told them about his adverts. Take it up with Charles Selwyn, he scoffed.
The only sign that truly upset him, though, was directed at Fiona. 'Keep your boy away from him, Mrs Dunning!' Even worse, it was in plain view of Fiona's seat, and Harry hoped desperately that Matthew wouldn't understand it. Poor Fiona, he thought, and he was glad she was seated with Hermione and Lucinda, whom he knew would defend him.
The balls were released, and Harry expanded into awareness and set his intentions. He wanted to win, of course, but Tuttle had also instructed him to draw things out. 'No need for a five-hour pissing match, but let's show those quill-sucking number crunchers which team to watch next season,' she'd told him.
This meant two things: keeping Kiely from the Snitch, and helping the Chasers score as much as possible. Harry would therefore avoid the Kestrels Seeker, forcing him to dodge Bludgers all afternoon.
It was nevertheless Quidditch etiquette to chat with one's rival at the start of a match, if approached. 'We meet again, Harry Potter-Black,' said Kiely. 'Something tells me you'll be buying me a pint this afternoon, after I catch the Snitch.'
'I thought you didn't like English beer.'
'I don't, but I love the taste of victory.'
'Yes, it certainly enhanced that Guinness I had with you back in September. That was fun, by the way. I've been told off any number of times, but never by an entire Irish pub.'
'They send their love,' said Kiely. 'Along with a standing invitation to buy them another round, anytime you like.'
'Cheers, that's very generous. How many other Brits have they railroaded like that?'
'Oh, it's a local tradition, but you were the first Order of Merlin winner/underwear model.'
'Dare I ask what the locals thought of my scandalous endorsement?'
'Well, you certainly weren't exaggerating when you said it was unusual and worldwide. Although someone needs to tell your fan club that every male Seeker looks like that under our robes.'
'Talk to my girlfriend, Fiona. She works for the Wizarding Orphans Relief Fund and they're making a calendar featuring underdressed Quidditch players. I can introduce you after the match.'
'She's a brave witch, going out with the likes of you. But how does her son feel about it.'
'He's less than pleased,' said Harry, and he decided it was time to follow Tuttle's orders. His strong peripheral awareness already knew exactly where the other players were, as well as the Quaffle and Bludgers, but he drew that knowledge into the foreground so he could more actively interfere. After a quick, unconscious analysis, he zoomed automatically towards one of the Kestrels Beaters, who was preparing to strike.
Spotting his prey, the Beater crushed his bat against the Bludger, and Harry saw the gleam in his eye. I've got you, Potter, it said, but Harry's body knew differently. Just as the bat struck iron, Harry abruptly changed course, his eye on the Quaffle. The Kestrels had possession, but thanks to Harry's previous position, a Bludger was hurtling towards one of their Chasers.
Forced into evasive action, the embattled Chaser was no longer in place to receive the Quaffle. Meanwhile, the Chaser in possession was running out of time to make the pass, since the league imposed a time limit. The Kestrels were essentially down one Chaser, due to the Bludger, and Ryan flew to block the other one.
With no choice but to throw, the first Chaser attempted to thread the needle and bypass Ryan, but no luck. Ryan caught the Quaffle, and Harry's near-foul of the neighbouring Chaser gave Ryan a straight shot ahead. Renée and Darren zoomed forwards as well, bringing them closer to the rings, and Harry continued to impede the Kestrel Chasers.
From the corner of his eye he saw a sudden move from Kiely, and a less-aware Seeker would have followed him. But Harry knew it was a feint, done specifically to lure him out of the way. Nice try, he thought, never letting up on the beleaguered Chasers, and the Cannons continued to advance, passing all the while. Meanwhile, Gary and Suresh performed a classic Bagman-Tuttle manoeuvre, passing a Bludger back and forth towards the Kestrels rings like an oversized hockey puck. And just as Darren came into scoring range, Suresh slammed the Bludger laterally towards the Keeper, forcing her out of the way.
'Cannons score!' boomed the announcer, but Harry barely registered it as he refreshed his intentions yet again.
And so it continued. The Snitch actually appeared at one point, and both Seekers saw it, but Harry thwarted Kiely's attempt to catch it, allowing it to escape. 'You bastard!' cried Kiely.
'Tuttle's orders,' said Harry. 'No catch until at least half two.'
'Quidditch needs a bloody clock!'
'Yes, it does. Cheerio!'
'Fuck off, you bleeding spanner!'
Laughing, Harry flew away and resumed his disruptive manoeuvres. He wasn't experiencing a fugue state, but the combination of his Light magic and months of intensive training made the match feel like a perfectly choreographed dance. And it wasn't just him—the other Cannons described something similar. Without that cohesion, they were just a mass of flyers, but together they were arguably the best team in the league.
Tuttle had warned them that if the game lasted more than two hours, she'd start swapping in the reserves. Not because the starters couldn't handle a match that long—they'd previously lasted far longer—but because she wanted everyone to get a chance to play that season. 'The Cannons are more than just seven players,' she said before the match. 'All fourteen of you are making it happen, every day of the week. Even if you never start a match, you're all essential to this team's success, and the fans deserve to see you fly.'
But Harry caught the Snitch just shy of the two-hour mark, drawing another burst of profanity from Aidan Kiely. 'The Cannons used to be an easy win until you turned up,' he ranted. 'Couldn't you have let us alone and faffed about at the Ministry instead?'
'No, I really couldn't,' said Harry, too elated to take Kiely's wrath personally. He zoomed around the pitch, enjoying the roar of the crowd, and he was thrilled to see Fiona cheering wildly. Even Matthew looked pleased, shooting orange sparks from his toy Cannons wand.
After talking to reporters, Harry greeted Fiona on the pitch, and Owen distracted Matthew long enough for them to kiss. 'Did you enjoy the match?' Harry asked.
'I'd seen you fly matches already, and I thought I enjoyed them, but it turns out the thrill of ownership adds a whole other dimension.'
'Ownership?' he said, raising one eyebrow. 'I like the sound of that. But does it go both ways?'
'Definitely. Except for the prior claim you're already familiar with,' she said, with a glance at Matthew.
'Yes, how did your prior claim like the match? I saw him cheering at the end.'
'He's always been a Cannons fan, thanks to Owen, so he was glad when they won. And, if pressed, he might acknowledge your role in that. But I don't think he's ready for an autographed Snitch.'
Lowering his voice, Harry said, 'I'm sorry about the banners. Did he understand what it meant?' There was no need to specify which one he was talking about.
'No, there were too many other things to look at. He'll probably be a compulsive reader by this time next year, but for now he was more interested in the pictures.'
'Oh dear,' said Harry, thinking of all the underwear-themed banners.
'Oh yes,' said Fiona. 'He thought they were terribly funny, and I wouldn't be surprised if he started drawing some of his own.'
Harry grimaced and said, 'He'll like me eventually, right?'
'Yes, he just needs time. I spoke with Lucinda Bellamy during the match—she's a hoot, by the way—and she says it's developmentally appropriate for him to resent you right now.'
'Er, yay?'
'Yay indeed. After all, imagine if he suddenly decided you were his new dad and got over-attached. That would be far more problematic. Whereas this is mostly funny.'
'Fine. But if he tampers with my boutonnière again tonight, I'm reporting him for Underage Magic.'
Harry introduced her to Aidan Kiely, who had calmed down considerably, and they discussed the WORF calendar. In the meantime, Harry greeted Hermione and asked what she thought of Fiona.
'She's lovely, and so is Matthew—the little scamp! And I had no idea about all the gifts and letters you sent her, and that you're still at it. You really are terribly romantic!'
'I'm no longer sending gifts every day,' he argued, even though he'd already selected an embroidered handkerchief from the shop Narcissa had recommended. 'And yes, she is lovely. What did you talk about? Besides me, that is.'
'I asked her about Blockhurst, of course—I'm always curious about the other schools. And she asked me about Hogwarts and Light magic. But she mostly wanted to talk about you.'
'Ugh, I'm sorry!'
'Don't be! It's not like she's some stranger at the Ministry. She obviously cares about you and wanted my perspective on what you've been through.' Noticing his discomfort, Hermione added, 'You've made her terribly happy.'
'Have I?' asked Harry, even though Fiona had told him the same thing.
'Yes. And she appreciated hearing about your struggles. She said it's a little hard to reconcile your present incarnation with what she knows about your past.'
'You mean when I was downtrodden?' he said, recalling the term Professor McGonagall had used.
'Exactly. But trust me, she doesn't see you as an object of pity. If anything, it's the other way around, since you're the one who lifted her out of her grief.' She glanced at Fiona, who had begun talking with Owen and Gemma. 'You're a good couple, I think. Admittedly I haven't seen you together, but she obviously isn't star-struck, and you don't just see her as a surrogate mum.'
'Definitely not,' said Harry, vividly recalling a non-maternal activity they'd enjoyed on Thursday. 'And yes, let's all get together soon.'
He found Fiona again, and they discussed their evening plans while Gemma took Matthew on a brief flight over the pitch. 'Maybe I should just meet you at the restaurant, instead of having you fetch me at the house.'
'Is it that bad?' he asked, looking up at the pair on Gemma's broom.
'No, but he's had enough Harry Potter-Black for one day. He'll be less clingy if I bring him straight to Jill and Owen's, and we leave you out of it.'
Fiona was frazzled, however, when she met Harry that evening at Mistigri. 'Darling, what happened?' said Harry when she arrived.
She pulled him towards an alcove, where they could speak without being observed. 'Nothing major,' she said, taking an unsteady breath. 'It's just the transition.'
'Do you need to go home?' he asked, sincerely hoping she didn't.
'No, we'll get through this. Lucinda said I should expect him to act up right now, and that it has more to do with his grief than anything.' She sniffled and he offered her a handkerchief. 'Really, I'm fine,' she said after blowing her nose. 'Oh my god, you're wearing a foulard!'
He was so relieved to see her laughing that he didn't mind being the target. 'We're at a French restaurant,' he argued. 'And several people have asked me to keep wearing foulards, so they'll stay in style. Which is absurd, but there it is.'
Dinner was lovely, and Harry was thrilled to be with Fiona in public. They attracted attention, of course, but he relished the idea that the novelty would eventually wear off, and that he and Fiona would become as unremarkable as he and Ginny had been.
After eating they strolled to the nightclub, and Fiona ordered him to make eye contact with at least five passersby. 'I'm going to put a stake through the heart of Glare-y Potter,' she declared, and Harry was pleasantly surprised when no one bothered them. But his Light magic surged at the nightclub, and Fiona quickly realised that his open countenance was easily misinterpreted.
'I take it back,' she scowled, after interposing herself between him and an overeager witch. 'Glare all you want.'
Their next stop was Grimmauld Place, where Fiona finally saw his enormous bed. 'So this is where it happened,' she said with mock reverence. 'Thanks to that unnamed witch, I get knowing looks from strangers, and probably will do for the rest of my life.'
'Then we'd better get started,' said Harry, untying his foulard. 'I'd hate for people to make false assumptions.'
She left before midnight, insisting he stay in bed and not escort her to the fireplace. He was sleepy enough not to protest, but when he awoke hours later he felt her absence keenly. Bloody Matthew, he thought, and he was immediately appalled by his own childishness.
He nevertheless allowed himself to long for her company, and to wish Matthew were her occasional sidekick and not her first priority, as Teddy was for him. Bad luck, Snitchbottom—you fell in love with a mum, and she can't revolve around you like Lydia did.
Fortunately he was less mopey on Sunday. Quite the opposite—he was excited for his etiquette lesson with Daphne and the others. They'd find fault with him, of course, but he was genuinely curious about traditional wizarding culture, and he hoped to identify more common ground. He still believed that magic itself was the greatest common denominator, and that wizards had far more similarities than differences.
Pansy arrived fifteen minutes early. The security wards kept her confined to the reception hall, since Harry had only given her minimal access, but she immediately called for Kreacher and ordered him to fetch Harry. Which Kreacher refused to do, but Harry heard the ensuing commotion and went upstairs.
'There you are!' cried Pansy. 'Something's wrong with your wards—I can't leave the room.'
Harry didn't admit he'd deliberately limited her access to the house, for fear she'd turn up in his bedroom. 'I'm sorry,' he said, temporarily lifting the restriction. 'You should be all set now. But aren't you early?'
'I wanted to see your wardrobe,' she declared, attempting to pull him towards the staircase.
But Harry stood his ground. 'Pansy, I'm not giving private tours. Daphne is in charge of my training and I'm sure she'll want to see my wardrobe, so you'll just have to wait.' She pouted, and he said, 'And surely it's bad manners to turn up early and demand to see the host's private chambers.'
'You're right,' said Pansy, sulking. 'And yes, I know it's bad manners, but this is your first lesson and I was hoping you wouldn't know any better.'
He made a rude gesture and said, 'Oops, there's my poor breeding again. Two fingers means "Good afternoon," right?'
'Ha ha,' she said flatly, wandering into the entrance hall, where she looked up at Padfoot. 'So, what do you know about Draco's new girlfriend?'
'Nothing I'm at liberty to share. What do you know?'
'Only that he has one, and that they'll never marry. But he wouldn't even say which school she attended, which makes me suspect she's Muggle-born.'
The University of Sheffield, thought Harry. And yes, she's Muggle-born. 'You won't get a peep out of me,' he said firmly.
'But clearly you've met her, right? I assume you're the one who introduced them.'
'In a manner of speaking, yes.'
He was still annoyed with her, which made it all the more surprising when she said, 'Will she be nice to him? Catherine White treated him horribly, and he needs someone more caring.'
For a moment Harry just stared at her, and Pansy said, 'Don't look so shocked. I've been friends with Draco for years, and I want him to be happy.'
'I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so surprised. And honestly, I don't know whether she can meet all his emotional needs. But she's genuinely fond of him, and I think she help with some of his baggage.'
'I certainly hope so. He has a good heart, if you can believe it, and I hated seeing Catherine White trample it.'
Harry realised this was a rare opportunity to ask Pansy about their history. 'I know you and he were close for a long time. So why aren't you ...' He trailed off, suddenly worried he was touching a nerve.
'Why aren't we married? Or engaged?'
'Well, yes. If you don't mind my asking.'
'No, it's fine,' she said, with a haughty tilt to her head. 'Sixth year.'
'Sixth year? What about it?'
'That's when it became obvious we'd never marry. Everyone knew the Dark Lord gave him a task, but he wouldn't say anything else about it. Which was fine at the start, when he was still confident he'd succeed. But over time he became more uneasy, and even though I gave him every opportunity to confide, he never did.' She scowled and said, 'I think he told Moaning Myrtle more than he told me, and clearly she wasn't blowing him. Oh, don't look at me like that—you know which kind of pure-blood I am.'
'Yes, I know. It's just a little startling to hear how much, er, farther ahead of me he was.'
'You were an idiot back in school. You could have had sex during fourth year if you'd wanted—you were a Triwizard Champion, for Merlin's sake! But apparently you didn't even kiss anyone until you were fifteen.'
Harry sighed. 'Yes, I realise now that I had more opportunities than I was aware of at the time. But you can't imagine what a mood-killer it was to be in constant fear for my life.'
'Yes, I can, because I saw it in Draco. As the year progressed, he went from enthusiastic to ... nothing.' Her hand gesture made it obvious what she was referring to. 'Don't worry, he recovered. He didn't go to Pratt's on his seventeenth birthday, since he was holed up in the Room of Hidden Things, not to mention his father was still in Azkaban. But he went later that summer, after Lucius was freed, and he was quick to tell me the problem was solved. I think he was hoping we'd resume our old habits back at Hogwarts, but I'd had enough. He obviously hadn't trusted me all those months, and I knew I could never marry someone who'd treat me like that.'
'But before sixth year you thought it was possible?'
'Yes. The Malfoys have more gold than the Parkinsons, even now, but otherwise I'm his equal. And we're not closely related. Lydia Travers was a potential rival, along with several others, but I had by far the most access. His parents met at Hogwarts, after all.'
'Are you disappointed things didn't work out between the two of you?'
'I was at the time, but not anymore. I don't think I realised my own worth back then—at least not entirely. Obviously I knew I was good enough for Draco, but I never really considered whether he was good enough for me.'
Harry had an urge to say, 'You go girl!' as Douglas had said to Banthora when she had an epiphany about how the Blacks had mistreated her. But he just said, 'Well done,' and prompted Pansy to say more.
'I've had suitors, you know. One proposal, even, although I didn't encourage him. He was a widower with a child, and I didn't fancy becoming a stepmum at eighteen. But I don't just want to marry well—I want a grand passion. Merlin help me, I want what Draco's parents had, minus the Azkaban part. Blaise says I'll never find what I'm looking for in England, and that I ought to go abroad, but my father won't allow it. If I'm still single at twenty, though, I'm sure he'll be desperate to send me away—like Millicent's parents did, poor thing.'
'And what are your other requirements?' asked Harry. 'Do you insist on living in a manor house?'
Pansy surveyed the entrance hall, which was one of the broader vistas inside Grimmauld Place. 'I could live somewhere like this,' she said, as if she were granting Harry a favour. 'But nothing smaller. Wizards aren't meant to live in cramped quarters like Muggles, after all.'
'My parents lived in a cottage,' he said archly.
'Yes, but wasn't that because their manor was destroyed? I'm sure it was just temporary.' Harry began to protest, but Pansy raised a hand to silence him. 'You specifically asked to learn about wizarding traditions—that's the whole reason I'm here. But let's wait for the others to arrive, since this will be easier when you're outnumbered.'
It was nearly time, so they returned to the reception hall. 'Thanks for your candour earlier,' he said sincerely. 'Although I'm not sure Draco would appreciate it.'
'No, probably not. And I've never told anyone—not even Daphne. But it's only fair, since Draco knows all your secrets, assuming you haven't any others.' She gave him an encouraging look, in case he wanted to reveal one last thing while they were still alone.
'No, he knows all of them, except the ones that are classified.'
'Exactly. But don't tell him I told you, or he'll curse me with more than just antlers.'
A whoosh of green flames, and Daphne arrived, followed almost immediately by Theo and Blaise. After the exchange of greetings, Daphne took a closer look at the floral arrangement opposite the fireplace. 'Very nice. Less extravagant than your parties, but still lovely. Did you order these just for today, or is this typical?'
''It's typical,' said Harry. 'I have very few household expenses, so there's no reason to skimp on flowers.'
'Ah ah,' she said, wagging a finger. 'Your first mistake: Don't talk about money.'
Harry blinked. 'Really? Draco talks about money all the time.'
'Oh, Harry, darling,' said Pansy. 'You mustn't take Draco as a model of deportment. He's always been above the rules.'
'So is Harry,' said Blaise, but Daphne shook her head.
'Perhaps, but he asked me for etiquette lessons, and I plan to provide them. If he chooses to ignore my advice, that's well within his rights. But I won't have him break rules out of ignorance.'
Harry was still puzzled. 'Then every posh pure-blood breaks that rule, because I've heard more gossip about money since July than I did in the eight years prior.'
'Yes, but we know we're breaking the rules,' argued Pansy. 'Daphne's right—first you need to learn correct behaviour, and then deviate accordingly. And frankly, you have an uphill battle, since everyone knows you weren't raised properly.'
There was a pause as everyone waited for Harry to blow up, but he only shrugged. 'I play league Quidditch, which means I've heard every possible insult.'
'Brilliant,' said Blaise. 'The wizard who can control his temper is always the last wizard standing. Except during duels, of course.'
Daphne shushed him and said, 'Harry, your Seeker training is invaluable. You almost never get upset on the radio, which I wouldn't have thought possible back in school.'
'Indeed, our Harry has come a long way,' said Blaise. 'Speaking of which, where did you get those robes? That houndstooth is a revelation! Don't you agree, Daphne?'
'Yes, they're perfect. But shall we have a look at the Black family tapestry? That'll be a good place to start.'
Pansy let out an indignant huff. 'What about Harry's wardrobe? Shouldn't we go see it?'
Blaise and Theo both looked expectantly at Daphne, as if it were her decision rather than Harry's. I suppose it is, he thought, turning to face her as well.
'Oh, all right. But Harry clearly knows what he's doing in that department.'
'Yes, he's got the bedroom sorted entirely,' said Blaise, drawing a laugh from Theo.
'Personally, I can live without seeing it,' said Theo, 'but my flatmate Roy has an unhealthy interest in Harry's wardrobe.'
'Does he fancy him?' asked Pansy as they headed upstairs.
'No, just his clothing. He'd dress that way himself if he could afford it, but he's an apprentice, same as me.'
Isn't that talking about money again? wondered Harry, but he decided it was a rule everyone else broke, and that Theo was amongst friends.
'Harry, Draco was furious when you started wearing robes,' said Pansy. 'He said you looked ridiculous, but of course he was just jealous. After all, he was planning to bring robes back into vogue himself, after his house arrest ended. Or at least wear them as a sort of protest, although he'd never have have described it that way.'
They reached Harry's bedroom, and Blaise paid his respects. 'The bed that toppled the Dark Arts,' he said admiringly.
'Indeed,' said Theo. 'Hardly anyone had heard of Light magic a few months ago, and now all three of my flatmates are studying it. So, well done, bed!'
Harry glanced at Theo, wondering why he wasn't studying Light magic as well, and whether he practised the Dark technique for controlling emotions that Narcissa had described.
Meanwhile, Pansy threw open the wardrobe. 'Oh, yes,' she purred, walking the length of it. 'Full marks! And oh my god, these shoes! Why doesn't the Prophet photograph them as well?'
Blaise came in for a closer look. 'Very nice,' he said, examining a pair of low boots. 'You'll have to accompany me to Rome one of these days.'
Daphne hadn't spoken since they'd entered the bedroom, and she went pale when she saw Harry's bed. But she seemed more comfortable looking at his clothes, which she studied with interest. 'Which ones did Lydia Travers select?' she asked.
He pointed them out, and Blaise's face lit with amusement. 'I'm picturing a lust-addled Harry, being dragged through shops on a lead. Had you deflowered her yet?'
'No, I made her wait until that night. We'd done plenty already, but I insisted she experience the build-up.'
'You're a genius,' said Pansy. 'Daphne, make sure you give it up to an expert when the time comes.' Clearly mortified, Daphne resumed her study of Harry's wardrobe.
'My only complaint is that it's all a bit tamer than what I was imagining,' continued Pansy, admiring an embroidered cuff. 'I was hoping for at least one set of completely outrageous robes.'
'No, the silver brocade is hidden inside the secret inner wardrobe,' joked Harry, even though it was true.
The two witches examined each outfit and told him when to wear it, largely echoing Lydia's advice. 'Always err on the side of overdressing,' said Daphne, who had regained her composure. 'By now people expect it from you, and you'll insult them if you dress down. But do you know how to take a compliment?'
'Er, I say "thank you?"'
She and Pansy explained the nuances of accepting compliments, and Blaise told him how to recognise veiled propositions from other wizards. 'If they insist on showing you something in the cloak room, it's probably not going to be a cloak.'
'Thanks, I never would have worked that out myself.'
They descended to the drawing room, where the etiquette lesson began in earnest. Theo was surprisingly helpful, having been trained thoroughly by his tutor and governess. 'As wizards, we're expected to be courtly without drawing attention to ourselves. I realise that's impossible in your case, but you'll win points for economy of motion.'
'The opposite of Lockhart, you mean?' said Harry.
'Precisely. Never do anything with a flourish. That applies to everything from duelling to unfolding a napkin.' He showed Harry how to remove his cloak, offer a handkerchief, and even kiss a woman's fingers.
'Me first!' cried Pansy, extending her hand. 'No, not like that. You just brush your lips across, without making a sound ... Perfect, now use your tongue.' Harry looked up in shock, and she said, 'Just kidding.'
'Pansy!' scolded Daphne. 'Stop sabotaging him!'
They also taught him the rules of conversation, and how to politely interact with an adversary. 'You'll have learnt some of this at Pratt's,' said Blaise, 'but it's even more important at parties.'
'But will it help? I've never had a successful conversation with Romulus Wynter, for example. Between my radical politics and studying Light magic from his estranged daughter, it always ends poorly.'
'What about his wife? Have you spoken with her?' asked Pansy.
'That's a good point,' said Daphne. 'Usually one member of a couple is more reasonable than the other.' Harry thought about the married couples he knew and realised she was right. Certainly Arthur is calmer than Molly, and Narcissa is more moderate than Lucius.
'Do you even need to cultivate Romulus Wynter?' asked Blaise. 'It sounds like he's a lost cause.'
'I don't expect to form an alliance with him, certainly. But I'd like to find common ground with ultra-traditional wizards, and he'd be a good resource.'
They brainstormed a list of neutral topics to use when cultivating allies, as well as topics to avoid, such as whether they supported Voldemort, Umbridge, or Cornelius Fudge. 'Just assume they did,' said Pansy. 'Not as Death Eaters, of course, but by following the path of least resistance.'
'Like you did?' retorted Harry, startling even himself.
Pansy froze, and the three others turned to see her reaction. After an awkward silence, she said, 'I'm sorry. Really, I am. I just didn't want anyone else to die.'
She was referring to the night of the final battle, when Voldemort promised to spare Hogwarts in exchange for a captive Harry. They were all in the Great Hall, and Pansy pointed him out and screamed, 'He's right there! Someone grab him!' But no one did, and Harry was able to find and destroy Ravenclaw's diadem.
And yet a part of Harry still wished he'd surrendered and prevented all those deaths. Couldn't I have done both? Destroy the Horcrux and stop Voldemort from attacking? Or maybe Ron and Hermione could have found the diadem.
But Tuttle's words returned to him—Well, that's how it happened—and he looked Pansy in the eye. 'You weren't entirely wrong,' he said. 'Dozens of people died that night. But you were also part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.'
Her shoulders slumped. 'That was Draco's idea. His father told him to support Umbridge, even though she was vile. And I'm sorry about that too.'
Harry was inclined to wave it off, as he'd done with so many others, but there was a clarity in her remorse that he knew was important. Gone was the spoilt aristocrat who'd bossed him around all afternoon, and in her place was a girl still ashamed of her cowardice.
'These things matter,' he said, never relaxing his gaze. 'Your actions matter, and your apology matters. So, thank you for that.'
For a moment she looked relieved, but she tensed again. 'My parents don't like you. They're afraid you'll change things too quickly, and that you don't respect wizarding traditions.'
Harry's Light magic surged, and he knew it was a reaction to wounded pride. 'Any specific wizarding traditions?' he asked.
'Let's see,' began Pansy. 'Courtship. And courtship. And also courtship.'
'Oh, for Merlin's sake!'
'Respecting one's elders,' said Daphne. 'I hear that one a lot.'
'Family loyalty,' said Theo. 'You used to slag the Blacks all the time, and you turned Walburga into a joke.'
Harry glanced at Blaise, expecting him to chime in next, but he only shrugged. 'Don't look at me. Mother thinks you're fantastic.'
Brilliant, thought Harry, resolving never to meet her. 'So there's no hope I'll form alliances beyond the Light faction?' he said wearily.
'Of course there's hope,' snapped Pansy. 'Why else would they invite you to their parties?'
'Oh, right, they all want something. Silly me.'
The next challenge was teaching Harry how to dance, and it turned out he wasn't a fast learner. 'I'm shocked,' said Pansy, over the strains of a French gavotte. 'I'd have thought someone so talented at both flying and sex would be a natural dancer.'
'Apparently not,' grumbled Harry. 'Should I sign up for lessons?'
'Can't Fiona teach you? She's a pure-blood, right?'
'She is, but she's also a single mum.' And there are better ways to spend our time alone, he noted internally.
'Mrs Malfoy taught me how to dance,' said Theo. 'You could ask her.'
'Right, I'm sure Draco would love that. We get on pretty well now, but I wouldn't put it past him to accuse me of trying to seduce her.'
Pansy waved her hand dismissively. 'That's no reason not to ask her. Draco's always upset about something, and there's no way he can hurt you. Honestly, I think he enjoys shouting at you, since you always forgive him. It makes him feel safe.'
Harry suspected she was right, and he resolved to ask Narcissa for lessons. They turned off the music and went down to the dining room, which Lodie had set for dinner. But Daphne frowned when she saw the table. 'Don't you have proper cutlery?' she asked.
'No,' said Harry simply.
'Why not?'
He explained how the silver was stolen during the war, and Daphne said that simply wouldn't do for an etiquette lesson. The crisis was ultimately solved when she Floo-called home and borrowed five full place settings.
'Much better,' said Pansy, sitting down. Harry had to admit that the table looked good, with the Black family china and gleaming silver cutlery, although he still refused to buy any. Indeed, he felt shockingly civilised, sipping wine and eating multiple courses of Lodie's French cuisine under the flickering chandelier.
'Blimey, you have company!' exclaimed Ron, quickly backing out of the room.
'Ron, come in!' called Harry. 'It's just our classmates.'
'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt,' said Ron, his eyes flitting over the guests' faces, their clothes, and the richly-appointed table.
'No, really, it's fine,' said Harry, embarrassed. 'Are you hungry?'
'No, I came straight from the– my parent's house. But I should go, we can talk some other time.'
Harry stood up in a rush. 'Excuse me,' he said to the other Slytherins. 'I need to talk to Ron for a few minutes.' He asked Ron, 'Is this about the thing from yesterday?'
Ron nodded, and after an awkward round of greetings he accompanied Harry to the reception hall. 'Really, it can wait,' said Ron, not making eye contact.
'No, I want to know what you've decided. Assuming you've decided something.' Harry sat down, hoping Ron would feel less pressure to leave.
'I have done,' said Ron, taking a seat. 'I stopped by the shop and talked to George over lunch.'
'What did he say?'
'He thought it could work. The fact is, they're having trouble keeping up with the DMLE side of the business, because Bode is making so many demands, and they're afraid some other firm will swoop in. And even though regular sales are way up, they still rely on the steady income the DMLE provides.'
'Do you think you'd like that kind of work?' asked Harry hopefully.
'Yeah, I would. And I think I'd be good at it too. I know a lot more than George and Lee about what Aurors need during a stakeout, or while guarding Azkaban. And if I were spending all day at the shop, I'm sure we'd come up with a million ideas.'
'And you'd still meet regularly with people from the Department,' said Harry, following Ron's train of thought.
'Yeah, to see what else they might need, and to get feedback on the stuff they already bought,' said Ron with increasing animation. 'George couldn't just hire me without talking to Lee, but when I saw him at dinner tonight he said Lee thought it was a great idea.'
'Did you ask your dad, or Bill?'
'Bill was all in favour, but Dad was a harder sell—you know how he is about the Ministry. So George kept emphasising how I'd be a "Ministry liaison," and that I'd still have tons of connections over there. And then Percy of all people chimed in and said it sounded like a good opportunity, since I'm not Slytherin enough to advance in the Ministry.'
'Did he really say that?' exclaimed Harry.
'Well, not in those words. It was a lot more long-winded, and he didn't say Slytherin, but that's what it boiled down to.' A cloud seemed to pass over Ron's features, and his enthusiasm faded. 'So I'm going to talk to Kingsley tomorrow, and we'll go from there.'
The problem was obvious, but Harry wasn't sure how to address it. 'Do you still want to live here?'
'I dunno, maybe it's not the best idea. We get on pretty well, but living together might screw that up. I mean, you have your own life now, and ...' He trailed off.
'Is this about them?' asked Harry, gesturing towards the dining room.
Ron took a deep breath. 'I don't mind you forgiving them, but I doubt I'll ever be comfortable around Slytherins– er, people who were Slytherins back in school,' he said, with another glance at Harry's robes.
'This is the first time they've ever been here, except for my parties. And Draco's hardly been here either.'
'Draco,' repeated Ron, with a hollow laugh. 'Your new best mate.'
'You know that's not true!'
'Yeah, I know. But you actually fit in that world, and I never will. I mean really, can you picture me at Pratt's? Even if I could afford it?'
Harry respected Ron enough to answer honestly. 'No. Maybe Percy, but probably not you. But that's why I need you. Not just because you're my best mate, but you'll be good insurance against me turning into one of them.'
He was thinking of Charles Selwyn, but Ron glanced towards the dining room again. 'Blaise isn't so bad,' he admitted. 'Ginny likes him, and apparently she rejected him repeatedly even before getting together with Wendy. And Neville said Theo's all right.'
'He is. And Daphne's nice too.'
'Yeah, I barely knew her in school. She mostly just struck me as posh.'
'That she is. In fact, the whole reason they're here is to teach me how not to screw up when I try to build alliances with traditional pure-bloods.'
'Right,' said Ron slowly. 'But what about Pansy Parkinson?'
'If you're talking about that thing in the Great Hall, I gave her a hard time about it. And Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad too.'
'A hard time,' scoffed Ron. 'You forgive everyone.'
'What choice do I have?' said Harry, feeling unexpectedly tense.
'You tell me. I mean, no one would blame you if you told every Death Eater collaborator to fuck off. Or is it a Light magic thing?'
Harry had no idea how to reply. 'I don't know. It just feels ... counterproductive somehow. Or maybe it's a Pratt's thing.'
'Yeah, that's probably it. Didn't you say you had a civil conversation with Lydia's grandfather?'
'I did. And it was definitely surreal. But back to your point, I can't see the use in railing against everyone who collaborated, since that'll just create a base for the next Dark Lord.'
'I guess so,' said Ron, frowning. 'But still, Pansy Parkinson?'
'I'm sorry, that must have come as a shock just now. But if you live here, I'll give you fair warning.'
'Yeah, that's fine. And I do want to live here, if the offer's still open.'
Harry sat up excitedly. 'Yes! Definitely! When do you want to move in? Gemma might want your flat, by the way.'
'I need to talk to Kingsley and Bode first, but soon, I think.'
After Ron left, Harry returned to the dining room. 'Sorry about that,' he told his guests. 'I promise I won't disappear like that at Ursula Boot's Yuletide luncheon.'
'I should think not!' said Pansy. 'Was everything all right? I didn't realise you and Ron Weasley were still close.'
'Of course we are,' said Harry testily, but Pansy interrupted him.
'I know you're old friends, but you seem to be headed in different directions. That's all.'
'A man needs friends in all stations,' declared Blaise, in what Harry supposed was his version of egalitarianism.
'Speaking as someone in one of those "stations," I'm glad Harry hasn't dropped Ron Weasley,' said Theo. 'And we're all wizards.'
'Yes, of course,' said Pansy. 'But don't let him hold you back. He did in school you know.'
'Pansy, enough,' said Daphne firmly. 'Harry, overt snobbery is also a breech of etiquette, although some people choose to break that rule as well.'
'I'm just being honest,' argued Pansy. 'If Harry wants to impress old-family pure-bloods, he needs to know what people think of the Weasleys.'
'I know what people think of the Weasleys,' snapped Harry. 'And I think they're brilliant. I learnt more about wizarding culture from them than anyone, and before you call them blood traitors, remember I'm using a broader definition of "wizarding culture." One that might actually keep wizards alive.'
Theo nodded in agreement, and Blaise actually applauded. 'Well said! And long live the Weasleys.'
Pansy made no further blunders that night, and Daphne gave Harry provisional passing marks for wizarding etiquette. 'But learn how to dance,' she ordered. 'Not only will you avoid embarrassment, but people will appreciate you took the time to learn. Narcissa can let slip that she taught you, and that you worked hard at it.'
He saw them out the reception hall fireplace, and walking downstairs he wished Ron already lived there. His afternoon with the Slytherins had gone shockingly well—Pansy notwithstanding—but there was no substitute for the ease he felt around Ron. Even when Ron gave him a hard time, like about forgiving Death Eater sympathisers, Harry felt the bedrock of their long friendship beneath him.
But Merlin help me if he finds out I'm taking dancing lessons from Narcissa Malfoy, he thought, pulling out his stationery and quill.
