A/N:

I will not be able to post a chapter next week, so I post the chapter now, instead. Hope you enjoy!

26. Messages and Meetings

Harry had woken up, used the bathroom, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and hair, and was halfway into getting dressed before he remember how he had fallen asleep the night before. In Voldemort's arms. He froze with his shirt half buttoned and then shot out into the bedroom where he froze again, staring at the bed, as if he thought Voldemort would still be there, somehow, and that Harry just hadn't noticed him when he got up.

"Well, that's just bloody brilliant, isn't it!" He huffed and continued to button up his light grey shirt. He couldn't remember falling asleep, and he couldn't remember Voldemort leaving. Neither could he remember a single bad dream or nightmare, or that he had woken up during the night, even once. He couldn't recall the last time that had happened, without help. Of course, what Voldemort had given him of peace and calm could most definitely be called help. Just another kind of help than the potions and pills he had used in recent years.

He looked around the room. Voldemort had put up the wards against his magic, if it should run rampant, and he had put up the ward to wake Harry if someone entered his bedroom, but not the silencing charm. It seemed the bastard didn't like that one, for some reason.

Harry tucked the shirt into his black slacks and got his black socks and shoes on. Even though he liked his T-shirt's a bit better, particularly those that Hermione had decorated, the long-sleeved button-down shirts he had gotten for himself were comfortable too. The shirt made him feel that he would stick out a little bit less in Astoria's study. He had also exchanged his jeans for slacks. He got enough stares, glares and hard glowers as it was. He didn't need any extra because of his informal look. If he really wanted to blend in, though, he should probably break out the robes, and he didn't, so, maybe it wasn't that important to him.

It was a cool, but bright morning. Consequently, Harry asked Dobby to serve the breakfast out on the balcony, and dressed in a jacket with a warming charm, to be sure he could enjoy the morning. And it was truly morning, not nearly noon as it usually was when he was able to get up. Dobby served him an omelette with ham, cheese and mushrooms, warm scones, jams, butter, orange juice, a carafe of coffee and his nutrient potions. He also put a small note telling Harry how much he had to eat to follow the diet. There was no limit to how much he could eat of an approved meal, just between meals, because then he might not be able to eat what he should at the meals.

With the breakfast came two newspapers, one was Magical News and Titbits, the other was The Prophet. Titbits wasn't edited for Harry's perusal, but The Prophet was. Big parts of the paper were obscured with a concealing charm, and the articles that were left were fine to read for Harry. As were all the articles and titbits in Magical News and Titbits. Rita Skeeter had written several of them, Harry recognised that even without her signature on the pieces, but while she still wrote sensational, she no longer wrote malicious. It was refreshing, and actually quite funny, a couple of times.

He was mentioned in both papers, because of-fucking-course he was, but if he was condemned anywhere, that had been concealed from him. And Harry was more than alright with that, he didn't need to read what hateful and spiteful things others thought of him. He knew everything already. Which was why the elves that handled his post now removed all the letters that told him he was a traitor or a coward, or similar, and that he should go die.

Harry ate his breakfast, read most of Titbits and drank three cups of coffee before thanking Dobby and finding his way to Astoria's study. He knocked and entered when he heard her voice tell him to.

"Harry! Good morning!" She sat behind her desk and smiled at him, before getting up and walking towards him. "You are up! And human too!"

"Am I not usually human?" Harry looked down at his very much human hand.

"It's just something Draco says when I'm particularly grumpy in the morning. 'I will talk to you when you are human again'." She grinned. "What are your plans today? Anything special, because of the clothes, I mean?"

"I thought I would try to fit in a bit better and leave off the T-shirt and jeans for today."

"You do look good, but why not a robe? I know you look good in those too, and with those you would fit in even better." She made a gesture and they sat down by the desk, she behind it and him in front of it.

"Honestly, I have never used robes outside of school or special occasions, and the times when I had to fight in a regular one, it got in the way, in a major way, so I don't feel like risking it."

"To me, that sounds like a challenge. The good kind of robes are charmed so as not to get in the way."

"Really? Even in fights? Normal robes?"

"Absolutely. May I try and find one of the good ones for you, and you might try it and see if you approve? It will probably be used; new clothes will not be easy to come by for a while."

Harry thought about it. If the robes didn't get in his way, then he might be willing to give it a try, even if he knew that Astoria was working to get him to be more like a traditional pure-blood wizard. She was sensible about it, and not offensive, so he didn't truly mind. He had expected it, after all, being the Dark Lord's husband and all. He had to fit in. On the other hand, he had expected the change to come by force. Maybe by threats, maybe by taking all of the clothes he had, and just leaving approved robes. Now it sounded like he had a choice, and that made him more willing to try.

You truly did catch more bees with honey than with vinegar. And Astoria Malfoy was all honey, towards Harry, at least.

Harry knew, having seen her and even duelled her on the battlefield, that she had a much nastier side, too.

Then again, so did he. Very much so.

"Alright, if you find a robe that fits me, I promise to at least try it for a few hours."

She smiled and then looked down at a plate with bloody red meat, standing by her elbow. "Do you mind if I finish my morning snack in front of you?"

"No, no, go ahead. I have to admit I have wondered when you ate the raw meat you claimed to like, back when you showed me what you look like without the glamour."

"I … decided to eat it out of your sight, just in case."

He nodded. "I don't mind. If you prefer to eat it at dinner or something, I mean."

"Thank you, Harry. Do you want anything?"

"No, thank you."

She gave him a smile and began eating while reading a long roll of parchment. Harry opened The Prophet and began reading. One of the first articles was about the lack of properly educated people, Healers, teachers, Potion Masters, Aurors, tailors and seamstresses, builders, herbologists, and pretty much everything else. There were some suggestions as to how to remedy the situation, but nothing conclusive.

The next article he read was about how parents refused to even contemplate sending their children away to school so long no one knew what happened to the group, or groups, that had targeted and killed children. Another article discussed whether people should be asked to confirm their identification at Gringotts, by way of the goblin's unique identification magic, before they got their pardons from the Ministry, or if the society could risk identification theft and having people that shouldn't be pardoned, be pardoned anyway. After all, it was hard to recognise identity theft if the identity stolen was someone who was dead.

And there were a lot of dead people.

When Astoria invited Harry to a meeting half an hour later, Harry decided to sit in, and followed her and her secretary to a meeting room that was already full. It was a press conference, which Astoria had forgotten to mention, much to Harry's chagrin. But even before Harry managed to say a word about it, Astoria pointed at a chair along the wall, where he would be able to see her, Draco and the others that would talk, without being in the line of cameras or questions.

A lot of the journalists and photographers sent Harry long, almost covetous, looks, but all in all they were well behaved and stayed away from him. Nagini might have had something to do with that, when she went straight to him the moment she entered the room with Voldemort. Harry's husband looked good in his fitted dark green, almost black, robes, even if the glamour, if it was that, was the one without hair. The red eyes followed Nagini and landed on Harry. Because Harry was well rested, relaxed with the gigantic snake in close proximity and in a generally good mood, he saluted Voldemort with the coffee cup he had gotten from Dobby a moment earlier. Voldemort nodded in return, red eyes glinting. Their short, but obviously not antagonistic, exchange was noted by many.

It was just a simple update conference, to share what there was of news about a handful of different topics. The first time someone tried to ask about Harry, Harry held his breath until Draco's 'no comment' filled the room. Good, they wanted him on display, most likely to show that he was alive and whole still, but at the same time they didn't want him to be questioned. It happened twice more, with the same result. Later, when the press was dismissed, Harry heard a young witch complain to a wizard, presumably her photographer.

"He sits right there! One should think they wanted us to ask about him and the situation of our Saviour!"

"They might have gotten fed up with our, and the public's, questions about what has happened to him, my dear," an older witch said, much more quietly. "Now we know he is alive and functioning. That was more than we knew an hour ago. And even if we can't answer anyone's questions, we can write that Mr. Potter was in attendance, and that might be of help. And maybe that was all that was wanted."

He recognized the older witch and knew what magazine she wrote for; it was one that Hermione read almost fervently. Not so much for the information hidden in the pages, but because that witch, that journalist in particular, could make Hermione laugh with her sharp wit, her cunning and her intelligent ideas in hard situations. Anything that witch wrote, Hermione would read. Harry knew that for certain.

Harry hesitated, unsure if he really should even consider doing this, but with his eyes on Voldemort, he got up and stepped up to the group of three. Voldemort nodded at him, a movement that was just barely there, giving the permission Harry asked for. Harry looked at the two journalists and the photographer. Draco appeared, as if by magic, at Harry's elbow. Nagini raised herself up and put her head on his shoulder.

"Hello. I wonder, what would you ask me, given the chance?" Harry asked the older of the two witches.

"Rowan Sterling, from Bewitched," the witch said hastily, but with a smile. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter. This is my intern Adelina Walsh and our photographer Wilbert Flemming. Given the opportunity to ask, I believe we, and most of our readers, would like to know how you are doing. Both the truce and your marriage came out of nowhere, and now everyone is floundering, trying to understand what is happening to us, our society and our lives."

Harry thought about how to best give his answer. "That, I believe, is a good description of my own situation as well. I have been at war for the whole of my adult life, with everything that entails, and now suddenly … I'm not. It will take some time to really believe, to really understand, what life can and will be like now. Right now … I'm still coming to grips with the fact that I don't have to fight for my life anymore. Everything else will have to come later. Was that an acceptable formulation, do you think, Draco? I can't remember the last time I willingly and knowingly got quoted."

"It sounded good to me. Miss Sterling?"

"Sensible and to the point." Miss Sterling beamed at Harry. "Thank you so much, Mr. Potter. Do you have anything you want to add? We go to press only once a week, so our news isn't fresh, and we are truly more of a magical lifestyle kind of publication, than a newspaper, but we like to have some pertinent news for our readers."

It was tempting, so tempting, to say one of the many, many, codewords he had with Hermione, to affirm that he really was alive and himself, but they would be noticeable. Some of them could easily be slipped into a sentence, but right now he drew a blank as to how. If he had planned this for more than two minutes, it would have gone better.

"No, no, I'm good, thanks," Harry said slowly.

Miss Sterling and her companions all bowed or curtsied towards Harry and then they left the room, as some of the last to do so. Harry hadn't been able to ignore all the long, almost jealous, glances from the other people from the press, but they had left now.

"Did you stop to consider that now everyone would like to interview you, even more than before?" Draco asked.

"No, I didn't."

"Are you going to accept being interviewed?"

"Probably not?"

Draco heaved a heavy sight. "I feared as much. Thanks a lot for making my job harder, Potter." He glowered at Harry, but there wasn't any heat in it whatsoever. "At the very least you accidently walked up to Miss Sterling, she is one of the less bloodthirsty types. If you do decide to give a statement at a later point, could you please, please, talk to me first? That way, I can at the very least mentally prepare myself, and maybe even steer you away from the worst of the pitfalls?"

"I can try."

"Why did you suddenly decide to make a statement?"

"Just … a whim, I guess."

"Liar." Draco said, but he shook his head as if to let it all go.

It had been kind of a whim, but not completely. Harry had long wanted to give Hermione a sign that he still was himself and working on the strategy they had made together at St. Mungo's before his marriage. The strategy Hermione had insisted that they make, insisted that Harry would get the chance to use. The last she knew of him was the picture from the Atrium incident, where he undoubtedly looked bespelled and not as himself at all. He hoped that his words just now would give her hope again. He wasn't in a great place, but he was still alive and still himself. Still fighting, but a new kind of battle. A battle that wasn't at all as clear cut as the battles in the war had been. But still a battle he had to win to be able to find some peace in his life and in his marriage. A battle to vanquish his own fear and rage and hate, and accept his situation and life. That was his new goal, and life kept making it harder for him, when it had been so exceptionally hard to begin with.

Marrying his worst enemy.

Sharing his life with his worst enemy.

Sharing his bed with his worst enemy.

Harry hadn't really believed this would be a battle he would have to fight. He had believed that he would be dead, or at the very least imprisoned, by now. A struggle of acceptance and peace wouldn't be necessary. But he wasn't going to be killed, or imprisoned, or tortured. He knew that, at least rationally, even if he didn't really feel it, didn't really feel all that safe.

Did he have any power over his own life and choices? No, not more than what Voldemort was prepared to give him.

Was he a puppet for Voldemort and his lieutenants? Yes, but they were surprisingly nice about it. Harry knew that they were manipulating him, little by little, probably also in ways he didn't detect, but he had never expected anything else, and it was far better than the brute force he had expected.

Could he choose what to do in his day-to-day life? It did certainly seem like it, within certain parameters.

And all in all, his married life was better than he had feared it would be.

If one didn't take the whole situation with the soul shard into account, of course.

And it was impossible for Harry not to take that situation into account. Well and truly impossible. He had gotten a much-needed break the evening before, but today it would be more of the same. And tomorrow, and the day after that, and so on and so forth.

For the rest of his life.

Harry pushed those thoughts away hard while he followed Astoria back to her study. He had managed to give Hermione a message, and maybe even some hope. That was all he had wanted. All he could give her.

Half an hour later there was a meeting about the shortage of necessary people, and Harry chose to sit by the table and listen in, not just listen from the other side of the room. Astoria had welcomed him at once, when he had asked. She had insisted that he sit by her.

It was discussed if they should try and get people on contracts from other places in the world, but Susan Bones had to admit that she already had reached out to Auror departments both in Canada and the United States of America to see if anyone would come for a year or two. She had been denied. It was felt that the situation on the British Isles was too unstable at the moment. Germain Bandini had done the same, but in Tanzania, Kenya, and Uganda, where he had some connections through family. It was the same story for teachers, Healers and every other occupation. The peace was too fresh for people from other countries to take such a chance. Every request had been answered with, 'not now, maybe later'.

Harry drummed his fingers against the table in thought and startled a bit when Astoria said:

"Do you have any thoughts on the matter, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, I … well …"

Astoria raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Remember what I said about needs must, yesterday?"

Astoria nodded.

"We aren't going to get every kind of profession filled anytime soon, we lost far too many for that and the birthing rate the last ten years or so is anything but good, so it will take a long time before we are even close to the numbers that we want. But what do we, strictly speaking, need?" He swallowed hard. "I believe we lost more than half our people."

"We have approximately one third of the people that we had before the war," Astoria whispered and swallowed hard. "Maybe a little less."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded once. He hadn't wanted to know, not for certain, but maybe it was just as well that he did know.

"With such a small population, what we need isn't near as much as before. Not in any regard. Send people, trainees and apprentices, out instead of inviting people in, for the time being. We need Healers, let the apprentices commute to hospitals in Asia, Africa, and America, that have the opportunity to take them in. Best stay clear of the rest of Europe for now. The same with seamstresses and tailors, builders, maybe a wandmaker.

"We also need people that know how to keep and run all kinds of shops and offices, make books and other general necessities. Someone who can make vials, knives, cauldrons, and other tools that's needed for potions and Healing. The apprentices can have one week on, one week off, or something like that. And maybe the off week can be used at St. Mungo's, or another suitable place, to help where they are able. I'm able to make international portkeys, without any problems. I can send people where they need to go. That should be much easier for the other countries to accept, than sending people to us."

"While it is correct that we will need the items to make potions, eventually, we have enough at the moment," Snape said slowly. "The lack of tools will first arise when we must teach the children how to make potions. Right now, the lack of potion ingredients is much more prevalent. Some can be foraged in the country, but not all, and we have no longer any stable import of any kind of ingredient. Nor much opportunity to cultivate them ourselves."

Harry looked at his fingers drumming against the table while he nodded for himself. What ingredients they did have would soon run out, and with autumn and winter there would be even less foraging than now. Potions were vital both for healing the population after the war and for keeping them alive and well in the coming months.

"Dobby?"

The elf popped in but didn't announce himself as he so often did. Already he knew when Harry was stressed and simply needed something, and when he would like to talk a bit.

"The blue and black notebook in my study, could you get that, please?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several people sneer at himself and Dobby.

Dobby popped out and then right back in and proffered the notebook to Harry with a bow.

"Thank you." Harry found the right page, copied the information over on a piece of parchment, wrote a note underneath, signed it with blood and magic, and sent the piece down to Snape. "Hermione saved this man's daughter when we visited Japan some years ago. He runs the biggest potion ingredient emporium in Asia. I give you leave to request payment for the life debt owed, if you think that you yourself is the best one to begin importing potion ingredients to Britain. He shouldn't try to make it too hard for you, but he is a merchant by blood and birth, so he will want a bargain, even with the life debt."

Snape looked at the parchment, then at Harry and then down at the parchment again.

"Yamana Takatane. I know his name and reputation," Snape said after a moment.

"I should certainly hope so," Harry's lips quirked. "Tell me when you want a portkey over there, and I will make one. Or do you know someone else that you would rather send?"

"No, no, thank you, Mr. Potter. I believe I will go myself." Snape looked at Astoria. "It seems to me, Mrs. Malfoy, that the shortage problem with both ingredients and potion tools might be handled. As well as the question of where to get plants and seeds from to begin our own production. Yamana Takatane provides all this."

"Mr. Potter, while I greatly appreciate your wish to help … This is not quite how life debts works," Astoria said carefully. "If Miss Granger saved a witch's life, then you cannot …"

"Hermione saved the girl, but as always, we agreed that the one that needs the life debt more, can have it. She has used a couple of debts owed to me, and that worked out well. I know she would agree that this is a good and necessary use of the debt. I wrote down a message to Takatane on that note, he will know it for what it is, and honour it."

Astoria looked at Snape.

"I do not read Japanese," Snape said, a bit sour.

Harry grinned at the look on Snapes face. He could only speak enough Japanese to barely function in Japan. However, he was quite good at reading and writing Japanese, more than good enough to read and translate the scrolls in the magical monastery Hermione had wanted to visit for her 25th birthday. He might have magically cheated to become that good, but no one in the room had asked him about it, so he kept it to himself.

Astoria nodded and wrote down something. "I will get the Malfoy and Greengrass greenhouses set up, and send out messages to everyone else that has greenhouses or plots for cultivating plants and potion ingredients. This will help."

"Are you even certified to make portkeys?" Flora or Hestia Carrow piped up, with a deep frown.

Harry felt his grin melt away. One thing was asking, that was alright, but the snippy way she did it, as if she had caught him doing something inappropriate … It rubbed him very much the wrong way.

"What are your credentials regarding teaching?" Harry asked right back. "That is the task you have gotten, to make sure that all magical children get an education, even now. What is your Mastery? According to the law, pre-war and bar Dumbledore's mistakes, you need at least one to teach. Preferably in the subject you want to teach in."

"I'm not expected to teach, I'm expected to make sure that the children know what they are supposed to know to become productive members of our society," she snapped.

"According to whom? The old Ministry, corrupt and destroyed by its own self-importance? Dumbledore's teaching plans, so eclectic that it's a wonder anyone learned anything at all? The new, not yet up-and-running Ministry?

"My bloody point is" he raised his voice when the woman tried to interrupt him, "that we do not have the people nor the expertise in all the fields we want or need. I know I can make portkeys; I have been making them for years. I have used them myself to the other side of the globe and back, several times. They are safe. And I'm certain that you can come up with a suitable education plan, with time and input from people that know a lot in their specific fields, maybe a trip to other schools will help too. We have to make do, all of us, for years to come. So do not come here and ask me what my fucking credentials is, when you are in no better position than myself."

Silence filled the room.

"I liked the idea of sending people out, it might work," Astoria said. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I will bring it to the Dark Lord, and we will discuss it in a new meeting in a couple of days. In the meantime, please consider what Mr. Potter proposed. Who could be sent out of the country and what country and institutions might be willing to take them in? Write down any suggestions, and if you yourself have any connections to a suitable place, feel free to ask around and see what the people there might think of the request."

"One question, please …" Harry said.

"Yes, of course."

"Draco." Harry turned to him. "Did you get your NEWTs?"

"I did, so did the year after us. Astoria took hers at the Ministry, but anyone after that hasn't been able to take either OWLs or NEWTs."

By that time Hogwarts had been in ruins and the Ministry was fighting to keep Voldemort's influence out of its halls and politics, and barely functioned for anything but war and the bare essentials for keeping a society up and running. That had not included any formal education.

"I wonder what could show up if everyone that wanted to try for NEWT 's did, based on life knowledge. You might not learn the curriculum during a war, but if you survive, you nevertheless learn a lot. Do you have any plans in that direction, Miss Carrow?" Harry looked at the pale, hollow cheeked, brown-haired woman.

The woman scowled at him. "No."

"This is part of what I meant by getting help and input from other people. I apologise for the fact that this time around, other people were me, but seriously, set up something so people can try for their OWL's and NEWT's, according to the old regulations and tests. You might get a bit farther along with finding the right people for the right jobs, that way."

"And you, are you going to sit and make portkeys every day, seeing as you are able to and are probably one of few that can?!" she snapped.

"Oh, I'm far from the only one that can make portkeys, believe you me." Harry felt a rather nasty smile slip up on his face. "It's a wonder what people can teach themselves when it's either that, or certain death for them and their family."

The Carrow woman looked at him as if he had grown an extra head, or very, very big teeth.

"I believe we have enough to work with for now," Astoria said. "Everyone knows what to do, or consider, until we meet again in two days. I wish you a good day. Narcissa, could you stay for a moment?"

People hastily gathered their things and got up. Harry placed himself by a wall out of the way. Susan stopped by Harry with a nod and a smile.

"Very well articulated, Harry," Susan said. "I hope to see you in meetings more often. It might be beneficial for everyone, including you."

"Right now, I don't know," Harry admitted.

Susan smiled. "Here's to hope, anyway! Got to run to the next meeting, see you later!"

They had seen each other and exchanged nods at earlier occasions, but this was the first time they had talked since the Atrium incident. Harry didn't really know if he was supposed to talk to outsiders without any of his watchers close by.

He watched Susan leave with a strange feeling of emptiness and longing waring in his chest.

A/N:

Thank you for the comments, the favs and the follows! They are much appreciated! I love to hear what you think about the story and the characters! It makes writing this story even more fun!

Hope you liked it! Please review!