Chapter twenty-nine: politically incorrect

"Stop right there," Harry commanded and Ron ground to a reluctant halt. It didn't help that the tone of voice only added to his pressing little problem that the sight of Harry in his new dress robes had given him. His mum had bought Harry his first ever set of dress robes, classic black that had turned pale skin luminescent and cut to show the athletic young figure in its best light.

Those robes had spent then next few years rolled in a ball at the bottom of Harry's trunk, and when Lily and James had insisted their son try the robes on before the dinner to ensure they still fit, the badly crumpled robes proved too short, too tights and too badly crumpled for even the strongest of spells to undo. Harry had been thoroughly chastised by Lily, and then scolded lightly by Molly. Ron had noted that his mate was more upset over Molly's scolding than Lily's.

"I just wanted a cuddle," Ron gave his best 'sad and lonely' expression a try, but Harry was unmoved.

"I very much doubt it would have stopped there and I don't have time to spell creases out of my robes," the commanding tone had not lessened and part of Ron wanted to howl in approval - his lover was teasing him deliberately. The new robes were a blue so dark it was almost black, made of a material that played tricks in the light. Harry was limned with a lighter aura where the light caught the robe, but shadows also fell across his body, shrouding it in elegant mystery. Ron's lover was a little taller than he had been, and still slender, however the duels with Snape had added a fine layer of muscle to his compact frame that was outlined by his robes.

Ron wanted to howl and take a bite out of the bedpost. Harry had let Molly measure him and then flicked through a catalogue of choices from Madam Malians, despite Lily's protests that he should go and get his robes in person. Harry had made his choice, included his measurements and dispatched Hedwig with his order. His parents had gone out to purchase their robes together, but the household had yet to see them, just as this was the first time Ron had seen Harry in his new robes.

"I promise it would," Ron recalled his lustily wandering attention once again and Harry's lips quirked in amusement. The green eyes sparkled at him, and Ron enjoyed the sight. Harry was starting to channel some of Dumbledore's traits, and Ron found it vastly amusing the way his friend could twinkle across the table at Sirius during a difference of opinion and wind the canine animagus up tighter and tighter.

Harry snorted at him and turned away to check in the mirror one last time. Usually they didn't care too much about their appearance, beyond a certain level of comfortable neatness - otherwise known as 'teenage boy sloppiness' - but tonight Ron was aware that his lover had to look his best. He watched Harry try to flatten his unruly hair for the millionth time, and abandon the effort with a disappointed sigh. Harry's hair was always sticking out at odd angles, even when soaking wet. He'd been pulled from the lake in the second task with his hair every which way, despite the water sheeting from him. Harry had looked for Ron while still gasping and choking on lake water, his first concern that the redhead had made it safely ashore.

"Don't fret mate," Ron counselled, the memory as fresh before his eyes as if it were yesterday, "It could be worse - it could be red."

"I like your hair," Harry protested, "It's spicy."

There was a faint tinge of red to his cheeks as he said it, and he slanted Ron a very shy look that rapidly overwhelmed the warm and cuddly feelings Ron had been having and kick started his lust once more. He took a couple of eager steps forward only to have Harry whirl and hold his hand up imperatively.

"No Ron," that commanding tone was back and Ron knew that he would be cursing his lover until he got back from this Ministry shindig and they could release some tension.

"I just want to have a hug," Ron pouted soulfully.

"If you're patient now you can have me later," Harry replied firmly, "Or I'll have you… either way, I'm not bothered."

"Deal," Ron brightened up at once, imagining all the things they could do when his lover got home in those oh-so-sexy robes.

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James looked nervously at his son when the portkey released them. Harry staggered slightly and grimaced, letting go of the invitation that Dumbledore had passed along to them. Lily reached out to their son and Harry let her steady him, smiling his thanks.

James had a small dilemma. They were not close to Harry, who was always polite to them yet took no real notice of their parental advice, and he had not had a chance to speak to his son about the behaviour that would be expected of them all at this function. The dilemma was did he pull Harry aside for a quiet word, or not. If he did then Harry would be angry that his parents didn't trust him. If he didn't and there was trouble then Harry would be angry that his parents hadn't warned him. Either way they lost.

"Mr James Potter, Mrs Lily Potter and the Boy Who Lived," an anonymous Witch announced and Lily flinched. Their son didn't even get addressed by his name, a situation that James found intolerable. Harry smiled at his mother in a comforting way and took her hand.

"We should move away from the port key area," James said gruffly, glaring at the staring crowd. Some of them looked away in embarrassment, which was the way it should be. After all it was ridiculous the way adults idolised and isolated their teenage boy.

Lily took his arm and kept hold of Harry's hand. She wore robes of the palest green, which seemed to glow slightly in the light, with full skirts, deep sleeves and a fitted bodice. James wore traditional Potter robes, maroon with golden trim and the family crest situated above his heart. Harry would have been entitled to wear the crest on his dress robes as well, had he been head of the family. James had seen his son's old robes and had been surprised that Molly hadn't at least put the crest on them. His son seemed unaware of that tradition, and had looked surprised when Padfoot had made his traditional comment about the family robes and family pride in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. His son had quite a few gaps in his education that James wanted addressed, but as he and Lily had so little influence with their son it looked as if those gaps would remain.

They were surrounded by a number of Witches and Wizards, some of whom James remembered from their life before, and some of who knew Harry. The green-eyed teen performed introductions as needed but generally remained quiet, deferring to his parents politely, as a well-behaved and dutiful son would in public.

After two hours, the last port key had been deployed and the crowd of people moved from the reception hall to the dining hall. They had yet to see the Minister or the Headmaster, and as James ran his eyes over the assigned seating at their table, he realised that they weren't sitting with anyone from the Order either, though several of their members were in attendance. The dining hall was elegantly decked out, but that didn't stop James from spotting the Aurors that stood along the walls at regular intervals - security for the Minister no doubt.

"Harry my boy," the Headmaster's warm tones sounded from James left and he watched his son move readily into the offered embrace. Dumbledore was wearing his usual bright robes, and Harry looked very plain beside him.

"James, Lily, how are you?" the elderly Wizard smiled over their son's head at them, and James smiled back in reply. If Harry had to adopt someone, Albus Dumbledore was a good choice.

"Very well, sir," Lily's soft tones carried over the quiet hum of conversation, "And you?"

"I am well indeed," Dumbledore replied, "Hagrid asked me to pass on his best greetings, as did Minerva."

James smiled fondly, thinking of his former Head of House and the huge groundskeeper of Hogwarts. Beside him Lily reached out a hand and patted her sons back, Harry sighed and drew away a little from his Headmaster.

"And how are your lessons progressing Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly, and James noted that although they were discreet everyone in the vicinity strained to hear Harry's reply.

"Well, sir," Harry smiled, "I love having Professor Lupin tutor me and Ron's a good friend. I miss the school though, and the Tower. It's not the same without all of the students around me. There isn't the same sense of competition."

James watched his son twinkle up at the Headmaster, who looked disconcerted for a second to have that particular trait reflected back at him. As revenge for dragging him to a Ministry function it was the mildest his son could administer and James admired the way the elderly Wizard recovered in a heartbeat.

"It can't be helped at the moment Harry," Dumbledore finally broke the loose hug and Harry stepped back, accepting Lily's comforting touch, "We'll have you back at school as soon as we can."

Harry beamed and then broke the tableau, turning to hold his mothers chair as the Headmaster bade farewell to James and headed to the high table and his assigned seat. The Minister sat front and centre of course, but had the gall to seat Dumbledore four places away, nearly at the end of the table. James listened to the negative comments that particular piece of manoeuvring garnered while Lily and Harry investigated the evening menu. James sighed and leaned backing his chair, steeling himself through what was bound to be a very tiresome meal indeed.

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