"Our youth are young only once. Why should they be forced to grow up sooner just because of whatever station their parents may hold? Why do we expect young celebrities and celebrities' children to be politically correct and up to date? Why do we expect any child to be on top of the news and still expect them to be innocent? Decide what you want, and update me when you figure it out." Harry finished, earning cheers from the crowd. Lily lifted her hand and the noise ceased.
"And now, Lady Liberty Black on keeping children aware of the world." Lily announced, and she smiled as her goddaughter entered the room regally.
"Weak argument, Potter." Libby muttered as they hugged in the traditional way.
"I'd like to see you do better, Libs." He retorted, and Libby grinned. He was still Harry… Rather than Prince Harry.
"Just watch me." She whispered in his ear, her breath warm. She stepped back and went to stand behind the podium facing the Queen. "Your Majesty, esteemed members of the courts and Ministries, and of course, our guests, I would not be standing before you presenting my platform had it not been for high expectations from my family and my family's friends. If we can offer children a higher form of education, than perhaps the silly little mistakes that are made by adolescents will decrease. We, the youth, can not be expected to act more mature if we are not given the resources that adults are expected to receive."
Libby continued with a bright, confident smile. This feeling of power… This adrenaline filled her, and she had never felt so good.
"You really like this diplomat thing." Harry commented, catching up to here with a butterbeer in hand. "You had an excellent point."
Libby looked at him skeptically, untucking her blouse and tossing her jacket aside. "Thanks. Though I can't say I agree with her."
"No one ever said you had to." Harry replied and she shot him a look. A grin tugged at the corners of her glossed lips, however.
"That for me?" She asked, reaching out for the bottle behind his back.
"How'd you know?" Harry pretended to gush bashfully. Libby rolled her eyes affectionately and they sat in silence.
"My mum wants the music at her farewell ball to be nostalgic… A bit of old pop mixed in with the classics. Swing, doo-wop, the whole nine yards. But she said I'd have to waltz…" Harry trailed off, looking to Libby expectantly.
"And let me guess, the Dursleys were not all too happy to let their little orphan Harry learn?" She asked with a perked-up eyebrow. "Stand, Potter."
"Always the dramatic bitch, aren't we?" Harry replied cheekily, though obeying her.
"You're the one asking me for a favor." Libby reminded him as she stood up.
"I never asked for a favor. I never even said I couldn't dance. I simply implied there would be… Waltzing music." Harry continued with a smirk.
"You are damned lucky you're so pretty… Cute… Adorable… ish." Libby rambled, not meeting his eyes. She shook her head violently, her cheeks still flushed and then stared directly at him. "Okay, here's how we begin…"
Lily's eyes lingered from the French Minister of Magic to Libby and her son on the terrace. She was repeating one, two, three over and over again, and he was looking at their feet. But Libby, she was staring dreamily at him, and as soon as she felt he was about to look up, she'd look away. As soon as Harry had gotten the hang of it, he and Libby began to fit into one another, dancing much closer than a formal waltz required. Libby had rested her cheek on his shoulder, and Harry rested his cheek on the top of her head.
"They look peaceful, no?" The Minister asked in a fond voice. "Reminds me of me and my wife at a time."
"Peaceful. Yeah." Lily murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She closed her eyes and could remember when she and James had done that… They'd dance on his balcony, with a four-piece jazz combo playing their favorites.
"Princess, lovely, my precious and beautiful wife…" Someone murmured in her ear, their breath warm. Warm arms slid around her and Lily turned around, not opening her eyes.
"Hi, James." She whispered, nuzzling her head in his sweater.
"Hi, Lily." He replied in a soft tone.
James looked down at his beautiful wife, a woman he had known for well over twenty years. She hadn't aged since they were twenty. She stayed the same, regal, youthful and beautiful young woman he had married, with a few more tricks up her sleeve.
"It's over." James murmured. "I'm really sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I was just being an insecure little fool…"
"I know, honey, I know." Lily shushed him soothingly. "I know."
Libby, Harry and the whole gang slouched and tugged at their ties and untucked their blouses and shirts, removing their jackets and robes and handing them to Aphrodite, Libby feeding the distraught-looking woman a snooty smirk. As they made their way down the stairs, even Ruby, the queen of extravagance, took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the terrace and the lake.
The terrace's stone floor had been extended for the sake of the dance floor, and a four-string quartet, along with a grand piano, a harp and a four-piece brass quartet were trying to find a proper place under the trees to play. Banners and flowers were being placed everywhere, and there were six fountains at the foot of the stairs.
Lily swept through the crowd of moving men and waitresses, taking a sample of cake here, and a sip of wine there. She looked up. "Ah! Okay, boys, you're going to group our guests, eight to a table please. Libby, you tell the moving men where to move the fountains. Ginger, Ruby, you make sure the DJ's playlist and the orchestra's match and go with what we discussed. Hermione and Reggie, please, choose a nice china pattern. I must go attend some other business. Ladies and gentlemen…" She got the attention of all the servants. "This beautiful brunette is my goddaughter Liberty. She is in charge until I return."
James grinned at the look of shock on his sister's face, and on the servants'. "All right, people, you heard Her Majesty. I am Sir James Black, at your service, and my sister Libby is your boss for another few hours. So get it together, people!"
James winked as he and the other boys were led away by the Royal Social Secretary.
"Okay, last fountain here!" Libby said loudly, worn out. However, the rush of being in charge and doing something glamorous and productive still pumped into her blood as the seconds passed.
"Libs, that's not the best place to put it." James commented as he helped unroll a red carpet to cascade down the steps. "It'll be in the way of the dancing, and some of us aren't quite coordinated enough to go around it."
Libby cocked her head to one side. "Yeah, you're right. Hmm… How about on that second landing? So that when people come from the garden and onto the stairs, they go around the lit fountain and emerge… How—debutante!"
Libby giggled at the thought and felt warm arms encircle her abdomen. "Hi, Harry." She said in a somewhat exasperated tone, turning in his arms to face him. She blushed, and sorely wished she hadn't, placing her hands on his chest and burying her face in his sweater. "Stop smiling."
Harry chuckled, resting his chin atop her head. "You're amusing, Libby."
"What will people think?" She continued to ask, her voice muffled and slightly irritated.
"Oh, how tame!" Harry said in a slightly squeaky voice, and Libby looked up at his smirking face.
"Smart ass." She muttered.
"Lady Black?"
Libby turned around, though Harry kept a gentle grip on her, and smiled. "Yes, Yvonne?"
The nervous blonde took a moment to curtsy quickly and motioned for Libby to follow her up the stairs.
"Harry…" Libby began, but he swept her up in his arms. "Oh, my knight in shining sweater." She muttered sarcastically, but as he nearly dropped her for a warning sign, she just tightened her grip.
"How romantic those two… Like me and my third husband, Boris, in old country." The aging Royal Secretary commented as Harry carried her up the stairs. Libby rolled her eyes, but found the position… Somewhat comfortable.
"It has gotten so dark, Lady Black. I doubt you'll even be able to see it. Dusk is upon us and in less than forty-eight hours, we're going to have a royal gala!" Yvonne chattered, and Libby leaned back, smiling.
Yvonne was right. She could barely see the beautiful, off-white fountain. But that wasn't the only thing she couldn't see.
Why was it that when Harry became the guy she always wanted to rescue her from the lonely family life she no longer had, she had to give him up? Why did she want the life of a miserable, lonely secret daughter with boys who hated her and nothing planned for her? Did she truly want this all to end?
"Lights!" Yvonne shouted.
And then it all came clear. The lights made the fountain a pinkish-golden glow, and suddenly, the fountain came closer, and closer and Libby found herself dropped in it.
"Oh, God. She's either extremely amused or extremely pissed!" James said before doubling over himself.
"Your Highness…" Yvonne squeaked. "Was that the best idea?"
"I'm telling you, Harry, you're dead meat." Reggie murmured worriedly.
Libby emerged from under the water and slowly got out, shaking herself off.
Before lunging at him.
"Jerk, ass, bastard!" She managed as they tumbled down the stairs with oddly huge grins.
"Dear Merlin." Ruby whispered exasperatedly. "I preferred the peep shows, thank you. At least you had to be older than eight to enjoy it."
Libby was giggling madly and in a mad attempt to avoid Harry, who had gotten his hands on Jell-O, ducked under the carpet at the foot of the stairs.
Harry dove in after her and shoved the Jell-O down the back of her shirt. She giggled and shrieked as the cold and odd substance made its way to her waist. Libby groped for it and got the sticky remnants in his hair.
For a moment, she stopped breathing. She looked into his eyes, her fingers s intertwined in his hair. She pulled him closer and gently kissed him.
She pulled away, breathless. "Thanks, Harry."
Libby crawled out from under the carpet, leaving Harry… Spellbound.