Modest, Too

by Luan Mao

Tear it all down and build it back up, better. It's a modest goal.

2. Market

Modest, Too

Market

"Good morning, sleepyheads." The entire household was staring at Tracey and me, curled around each other as we awoke.

"Marie, er, Mrs Davis? Could you pick out some clothes for Tracey and give them to Dobby, please? You won't be able to open that door again once you close it. Thank you. Could you all excuse us, please? Thank you."

"Of course, dear. Shall Dobby come right in or give you a few minutes?"

"Oh, we need at least half an hour. Make it an hour." Was Tracey teasing, or was I about to get a second wake-up? "Oh, relax, Daddy. I'm just kidding. Mum, if you can find something for me, we'll be out in a jif." Blast.

Left alone, Tracey and I got out of bed without any embarrassment – we were both clothed, after all – and without too much delay. Just a hug and a light kiss – morning breath, you know. Also, we didn't know when Dobby would be popping in and didn't want to get too carried away.

Turns in the bathroom to clean up and get dressed and we were ready to leave the safe room and face the music. Yes, we were both adults and this was my house, but Mr Davis seemed pretty protective and Grammy seemed pretty hard-nosed. If we ate in the kitchen and I could persuade Dobby to sit at the table rather than serve us, Natalie could sit on my lap and I could hide behind her.

Breakfast was pleasant and plentiful. Purely by chance, I'm sure, the two open chairs were not next to each other. As she did yesterday, Marie kept the conversation light. Dobby kept the platters filled, while chowing down plenty himself. I don't know how it works, but house elves can survive on almost nothing, but if there's enough to eat the little guys eat at least as much as a human teenager. As we ate, Mr Davis and Grammy kept looking at me, or between Tracey and me. Mr Davis was frowning a bit, whether angry or thinking I couldn't tell. No worries; Natalie was indeed on my lap again, so I was safe for now.

"Thank you for breakfast, Dobby. And thank you, Harry, for breakfast and the vacation in your lovely 'cottage'. Now that we've eaten, can we all talk about several serious matters?"

"Of course. Here, with the tea, or in a lounge, with comfortable chairs? Dobby will be joining us. He's my friend and will be involved in any decisions I make. Oh, and before I forget, do I owe anyone any apologies for yesterday? By evening I was totally out of it. I remember just snapshots of the afternoon and evening. If I said or did anything strange or rude, I'm sorry."

"You told me you'd love me forever."

My jaw dropped. Before I could get a full panic on, her mother cleared her throat discouragingly.

"Aw, you never let me have any fun," Tracey pouted.

"Didn't you have enough fun last night?"

"No such luck. Harry fell asleep as soon as he saw the pillow." Tracey shot me a dirty look which made me quail for a moment but gave me hopes for this evening.

"Poor dear. Better luck next time."

I was a little confused. Tracey and Marie's talk wasn't at all explicit, but it was still more than I was comfortable with around a five year old. I mentally shrugged it off. I'd never raised a little girl, so they probably knew what they were doing.

"Ahem. If you are all done? We do have things to discuss, of greater importance than teasing Harry and provoking me."

We gathered up a few games and books so Natalie could play quietly while the rest gathered for our Important Talk.

"Mr Potter, the meat of the problem is that the economy has almost halted because Gringotts is closed. Most people keep very little money in their houses. Most people also have only a few days' supply of food, as well. Our family was a case in point. If you had not been willing and able to help Tracey, we would have been very hungry by now."

I didn't know much about how the wizarding economy worked. Raised Muggle, kept locked up at Hogwarts or the Weasleys' or Grimmauld Place, unable to make honest friends in the wizarding world. It was a wonder I knew enough to function at all. Just as Dumbledore planned it. But I needed to save my brooding for later. For now, focus on what the Davises were saying.

"I think I understand. And let me guess, most businesses don't have much cash on hand, either. So you and Marie couldn't just pay yourselves from your shop, and most other employers can't pay their employees either. So no one has money to buy food or other things, and so the shops don't have money coming in, so they can't pay their employees, which takes us right back to no one having any money."

"Very good so far. Most business is conducted with bank drafts, promissory notes, and other claims on the vaults. Actual Galleons are too inconvenient for anything but shopping. Normally it's only the retail trade which sees a lot of metal money, and this isn't nearly enough to keep everything going."

I thought a moment. "Muggles use paper money instead of gold coins. Would something like that work?"

"Probably not. You're talking about fiat money. In the wizarding world, our bank drafts are backed by gold coins in our vaults. They're something like Muggle personal checks, not like the paper money the government prints. Muggle paper money doesn't have any real value. It did when it was first used, but now it does not. It doesn't have any real value but people think it does, so business keeps going. It would take a long time for wizards to learn to trust fiat money. The Muggle world took centuries to get to that point. And people are hungry today."

"What is the Ministry doing about it? This kind of problem is sort of their job, isn't it?"

Mr Davis grimaced. "The Ministry is doing what they do best: protecting the interests of the Wizengamot and other rich families, and running around without any clue of what's happening. I wouldn't look to them to lead us out of this crisis."

I grimaced in turn. That sounded about right. "And they're arresting people to make it look like they're doing something, right?"

"That, and telling everyone to remain in their homes until the crisis is over."

"There's another thing to think about, young man." Grammy was speaking for the first time. "The people may obey the Ministry and stay at home for another day or two, but soon they will become hungry and desperate. There will be looting of shops, and arrests, and riots, and raids on Muggles for food. I lived through that as a child. I do not wish to go through it again."

That was a sobering thought. Sure, wizards can conjure food and drink, but it doesn't do much beyond fill your mouth. Conjured tea or roast beef and gravy tastes like the real thing, if the conjurer is skilled enough, and it fills the belly for a little while, but it disappears very soon. No nutrition at all. I think that's why the Weasleys always ate like deprived animals at the Burrow: the family couldn't afford enough real food to satisfy everyone, so Mrs Weasley conjured up the difference. The kids thought they were eating their fill but were practically on a starvation diet.

"So what do you want to do about it? That is, what do you want me to do about it? I assume we aren't just sitting here complaining about the world."

"Mr Potter, sitting in your basement you have enough gold to restart the economy. The population of Wizarding Britain is under 100,000. A little gold in the hands of the people would let them buy food and other necessities. This would let the shops pay their employees and buy from their vendors. Everything would start moving again."

I frowned. Yesterday Mr Davis had been impressed by my house and wealth, but it didn't seem that he wanted to get his hands on it. Well, to be fair, it didn't sound as if he wanted it for himself now.

"I see what you're getting at. But still, you're asking me to give away my family inheritance to help people who have never done anything for me, but who always expect me to save them from crisis after crisis. And who have stared at me and gossiped about me and attacked me since my first day back in this world."

"Harry, most people aren't like that. Most of them leave you alone. I'm sure they'd be delighted to shake your hand or buy you a beer as a thank you, but they don't chase after you or send howlers or marriage contracts." As always, Marie was a voice of calm and reason. "As for Hogwarts, it gets only a fraction of the magical children. You've never thought about the numbers, have you? Magical Britain has 50 or 100,000 humans. It depends on whom you count as part of the magical world. About a tenth are school-age children, including the Muggle-born. That's at least 5000 school-age children. Hogwarts has fewer than 500."

"Under 300, Mum. Daphne and I counted a few years ago."

"Exactly. Even if every student at Hogwarts were your sworn enemy, that's less than a tenth of the children. The same goes for the people you see walking down the street. Most of them leave you alone. It simply seems that you're being mobbed if a dozen, ah, enthusiasts swarm over you."

"What we're getting at, Mr Potter, is that you should not have any particular grievance against most of our world. The Ministry, yes, the rich bigots, yes, but not the ordinary people."

I nodded, seeing what he was saying.

"There's another reason you should consider helping, Harry." Grammy again. "From what you said yesterday, you were the one who caused this crisis. You had reason, perhaps good reason, but what it comes down to is, you destroyed the economy. You left people without money to buy food."

I've been hammered with guilt trips my entire life. I've developed a callus over that part of my soul. They don't work on me any longer.

But Grammy was making a good point. This really was my fault.

"You're right, Grammy. But what can we do? There's no way I can hand every wizard a pouch of gold."

"House elveses could do it, Mister Great Harry Potter Sir!"

"Probably. But people who have house elves probably already have enough money to get by. I don't care about them. They're more likely to have been the ones attacking me all these years."

"We talked last night, after you and Tracey went to bed." Mr Davis scowled at me a moment before getting back to the main topic. "If you agree, you could make loans – not gifts, loans – to a number of small businesses. This will allow them to pay their employees, which may be enough to start things moving."

"You could also help some stores directly by buying food and giving it to people. If you want to, that is." Tracey was trying to get me to be a nice guy.

Maybe I'd do it. Yes, I was partially responsible for the current mess, but it was already a mess waiting for the next goblin rebellion or the next ministry screw-up for it all to come down. Marie had made good points about me not knowing the majority of people in the magical world, and them not doing anything to harm me. On the other hand, they hadn't done anything for me, either, and they supported the system which worked to beat me down. And which worked to spawn a new dark lord every generation.

"Here's what I'm willing to do. I'll put up an even million galleons for loans to businesses, food packages to hungry people, and whatever else will help." A million was maybe a quarter of what I'd grabbed two days before. I still felt no guilt over that, as the money would have been contaminated, destroyed, or buried if I hadn't grabbed it. However, giving it away isn't like giving away my inheritance from my parents or Sirius. "I'll count out the money. Can you talk to whoever you need to talk to to get this set up? Say, is the floo working yet?"

"You'll have to check the floo, dear. We don't know what protections are on the house and it didn't seem a good idea to experiment. The Blacks had quite the reputation, after all."

As it worked out, Dobby was tasked to count out the money. He was able to adapt some house elf magic which lets them quickly grab the correct amount of money from a Gringotts vault. It would still take him a while to put together a thousand, thousand galleon sacks, but he could do it much quicker than the rest of us put together.

Mr Davis and Marie worked on a list of other small business owners to contact once I opened up the floo. The rest watched as I opened up the floo … or failed to. It wasn't bad enough that the system was still shut down. No, I had to get the forcible rejection in front of an audience. And the little girl had to start giggling at my blackened head and shoulders, setting off the teenager and even the grandmother.

"I need to get cleaned up. Tracey, would you mind helping?" If I was lucky she'd join me in the shower and maybe I'd get lucky.

No such luck. Tracey hosed me down right there in the foyer, to the screaming delight of Natalie and the chuckles of Grammy.

"Mister Great Harry Potter Sir is keeping clean and not getting the rest of the house dirty," Dobby said approvingly as he popped in, handed me a towel, vanished the spare water, and popped back out.

The floo being a complete failure, I tracked down the elder Davises to see if they other ideas for contacting dozens or hundreds of their compeers. I doubted we could find enough owls and I doubted I could apparate more than a couple dozen times in a day. I can take pain, but there's a limit.

Two hours later Mr Davis, Marie, Tracey, and I apparated away with lists and a handful of sacks each. We were going to a few of the Davises' more trusted acquaintances, offering them the loans before any binding contracts were written up and hoping they would help spread the word to more colleagues to see us at the Davises' shop for loans. If each businessman told three others, we'd be able to reach most of the private businesses in a day or two.

...oooOOOooo...

Before Dobby started counting out the gold and I worked on the floo, Tracey pulled me aside for a little something on the side.

"You owe me a ride, Potter, and you're giving it to me now. Size matters, so you're going to let me have it while you still have enough to show me a good time."

"Uh, Tracey? I'm probably all in favor of whatever it is you're talking about, but what are you talking about?"

"Oh, for Heaven's and Merlin's sake! The gold, Harry, the gold! Let's sled down the gold and have a nice, bumpy ride pressed up against each other."

"You see? I was right. I'm all in favor of what you were talking about. Come on. Less talk, less standing here, and less clothes."

Tracey shucked off her robes, then helped me stack the gold up into a nice cone shape. Vaguely breast-like, if I turned my head sideways. I hadn't thought of that when stacking the pile before, but the other times I hadn't had Tracey nearby wearing a crop-top.

We finally got it arranged to her liking – Why did it matter? It was just going to get messed up in a minute. – and climbed the twenty-four steps to the landing near the top of the pile.

Tracey wolf whistled. "Nice butt there, Harry! How is it I never noticed that before?"

I wasn't sure why she was trying to flatter me. We were already sleeping together, even if we were always too tired to do much more than just sleep. I'd let her and her family talk me into what they wanted for helping Magical Britain. What else might she need my good will for? But it had to be flattery because I was no hunk. I'd be short and scrawny for the rest of my life – thank you so much, Dirtbag Dursleys and Dumbo Dumbledore.

"It's because I've always known never to turn my back on a Slytherin, you despicable, untrustworthy person, you. Besides, it's not like the school robes show much. I never realized how good you look until last week."

"Thank you, kind sir. Play your cards right and this untrustworthy Slytherin might turn her back on you some night."

The conversation was leaving me in the dust. It was pretty clear that Tracey was more experienced than I, or at least was more experienced at racey talk. But we had arrived at the top of the stairs and I'd conjured another large disk for our ride.

"Let me get on first, then you get in front and I'll hold you tight, ok?" We settled in securely, ending up with my arms around Tracey's chest, mostly avoiding naughty contact. But speaking of naughty contact, Tracey seemed to need a bit more wriggling to get settled in than I would have thought strictly necessary.

The same as the time before, I inched us forward by jerking my hips. At about the third bump against Tracey's delectable derrière, I came to a sudden understanding of Tracey's last comment. Just in time to go dooooowwn.

We slid down, faster than before, then skidded across the concrete floor toward the wall. I forgot the cushioning charm!

After the impact, I was on my back, Tracey straddling my hips. "Our first time, I want it just like this," she told me with a kiss and a hip wriggle.

"Find me my wand so I can vanish our clothes. Our first time can be in about ten seconds," I managed to groan out. Something about the situation had me so turned on I could barely think straight. The "something" was most likely the sexy young lady almost exposing herself on top of me. "Ah, Tracey, did you notice you're half an inch from hanging out there?"

"Oh, what a gentleman you are, to inform me of my peril rather than merely take advantage! However did I get so lucky?"

"We haven't gotten lucky yet. Do we have time for a side trip to my bedroom?"

Before Tracey could continue the repartee I took a stinging hit to the head. Jerking up I dislodged Tracey just as she took a hit of her own. Leaping up and casting about for both my wand and the attacker, I was surprised to see Dobby just as he plinked another galleon at my forehead.

"Bad Great Harry Potter Sir! You and your Racey are making a mess where Dobby needs to work. Get a room before you do your naughty-naughty!"

There's nothing like an annoyed and vocal house elf to break the mood. Summoning my wand and our robes, I slunk away with Tracey, getting plinked on our bottoms all the way up the stairs.

...oooOOOooo...

"So where should we set up our market? Diagon Alley would be big enough and everyone knows how to get there."

"That isn't a good idea. Something is affecting magic along Diagon Alley. Plus, the muggle police have been checking the area and the Ministry has had to obliviate them to keep the secret."

"Ah, is the magic affected stronger the closer you get to Gringotts? Because if it is, I might know the problem."

"It seems to be. What do you know?"

"I destroyed Gringotts with an atomic bomb." Marie's eyes went very wide. From earlier talks it sounded as if she was familiar with science, so I explained how Hermione and I designed the bomb and I built it. When I finished, I saw that Marie had a very strange expression on her face. "What?"

"Harry, dear, it couldn't have worked the way you described it. The atomic nucleus … energy levels … It just doesn't work that way. I took several physics classes in college in America." Marie's eyes grew unfocused as she talked. "Joe Fenton was the professor. Excellent, excellent teacher. He could really bring the subject to life. He was my first crush. It was terrible, terrible what happened to him. There was a mishap with radioactives in a classroom demonstration. He died a horrible, agonizing death right in front of us. But he used it as a teaching moment to show us what not to do when handling dangerous materials."

"Er." I took a moment to figure out what parts of that I could ignore. Most of it. "It did work. So whether I got the physics right or I just magicked everything, we had an atomic explosion right under Diagon Alley."

"You two can talk more about this. But right now we have a job to do. We can't use Diagon Alley because of the ministry and Muggles as much as the radiotron poisoning the magic. We'll need a place to set up, either a row of shops or an open area where we can set up stalls."

"Hogsmeade has shops, and there's no problem with a lot of wizards coming through. But I don't know if I want to get that close to the old goat sniffer."

"Really, Harry. You can entertain yourself with insulting names, but that only makes you seem petty or even childish. For now, at least, you need to appear as mature as possible."

Attempts to make me grow up having been dealt with, we turned back to finding a place for the market.

"How will everyone get there? The floo network is down, so it'll have to be apparition or portkey, right? Maybe a few brooms or automobiles."

"Most people will have to apparate. We won't be able to get enough portkeys in time." That made sense. Not many wizards can create an accurate portkey. It's not a specialty like setting up wards, but it isn't exactly heating a kitchen stove, either. Creating a portkey requires the caster to put as much energy into the portkey as would be required for an apparition, so there's a limit to the number any wizard can create in a day. Five or ten thousand portkeys, maybe two hundred casters, and a couple of days to do it in don't work out.

"So that means we should choose a place that most people can apparate to without much trouble. Hogsmeade is too far north, too far away from most. Even if it weren't too close to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-An-Old-Goat-Sniffer."

Marie swatted me on the arm before agreeing. "Northern Wales is close to the center of the wizarding population, I believe. I was thinking all along that a fallow field would be best for what we need: not many Muggles around, easy to set up tents and booths, not much concern for authorities of any type." Go, Marie! I'd have her talking like a rebel in no time.

Mr Davis looked up from his endless lists. "I know a Muggle farmer in northern Wales. If he doesn't have a field we can use, he'll know someone who does. I assume you'll want to rent the field rather than borrow and obliviate?"

I nodded firmly. One of Wizarding Britain's most infuriating traits was the belief that Might Makes Right. Wizards can do anything they like to Muggles and get away with it. They do the same to each other if they can. Hello, Dumbledork! I'm talking to you!

Wizards also seem too dim to realize that if they feel justified in doing anything they can get away with to Muggles, with no concern for the Muggles' rights, there's no moral reason keeping Muggles from doing whatever they can manage to wizards. And Muggles outnumber the wizards a thousand-to-one or more. I'd almost like to see a return of the real witch hunts and burnings, just to see the looks of ovine incomprehension on the purebloods' faces.

But I needed to steer clear of those thoughts or I'd pack up my stuff and leave the sheep to their fates.

Mr Davis made a note to get in contact with his contact and see what he could arrange. The details didn't matter to me. Whether bag-o'-galleons #534 went for a loan or to renting a field, it was all the same to me.

...oooOOOooo...

When lunchtime came we all gathered in the kitchen, only to find we'd all been too busy to make anything. Funny, that: going hungry because we were keeping Wizarding Britain from starving.

Dobby and I threw together soup and sides while Tracey helped Natalie help us and the three adult Davises worked on their lists of reliable businessmen. As we worked, something caught my ear.

"Mr Davis? Did you just say we should try to set up the market for a week from tomorrow?"

"Yes. We need time to finish spreading the word and distributing the loans, and for the businesses to pay their employees, and for the shops to pack up stock to take to a marketplace. We just don't see how to get it done any quicker."

"Wasn't the whole purpose of this to keep people from going hungry?" Realization dawned on their faces. "Isn't another week too long to wait?" And the dawning and the facepalm were the third day, and it was good.

The new plan, hashed out over lunch (which, regrettably for the narrative, was not hash) was to buy up groceries where we could and have people come and get it. We just couldn't distribute enough, so they'd have to come to us. Some people could help by grabbing a number of packets for their neighbors. Some business owners could pick up their bags of gold. Yes, we had ourselves a plan.

After lunch, Tracey and I had a new job. The Davises continued to make their contact lists and duplicate the revised loan agreement and Dobby continued to count out the money. I apparated Grammy and Natalie to a quiet spot near the Greens' market while Tracey brought just herself. It was another beautiful afternoon and another walk would have been nice, but we were in a hurry. Muttering curses, I then went back to the house, grabbed the cart Mr Green had so kindly lent me, and apparated again to the others.

Tracey and Grammy went through the store, choosing items to go into a care package. The choice was more limited than you would think – wizards apparently wouldn't know what to do with a tin or an add-water-and-heat packaged meal. I had the hard job.

"Mrs Green? You know how you wondered why I don't buy more groceries? I think I'm about about to buy a couple years' worth today." Her skeptical face drew me on. "I need to get enough for several thousand people for about a week. And I need it by noon tomorrow."

"Harry, you've been celebrating with that lovely new girl of yours, haven't you? Come with me. I'll give you some tea to sober you up."

"No, Ma'am, we haven't been drinking. It's too complicated to explain, but I know of a group of people who have been cut off without money or food. It would take too long to get government assistance or the Red Cross. It's partly my fault and I have to fix it, and they're hungry now."

"Harry, I've never known you to lie or prank, but this seems a bit strange."

"Ma'am, does it matter if I'm drunk or joking? I can pay for the food, and take delivery here or from the wholesalers."

"I don't know, Harry. This all sounds a bit fishy…"

Luckily, Grammy came to my assistance. I wasn't causing any fights but I certainly wasn't getting anywhere.

"Hello, Dear. I'm Sarah. What shall I call you? Esther? How lovely. Strange as it sounds, what Harry wants is above-board and well meant. So far as I can tell, Harry is honest, sane, and able to provide. I wouldn't consider allowing my granddaughter to bring anything less into the family. We all would prefer that he were better spoken but one can't have everything."

Grammy waved to the meat, flour, and other staples that Tracey had piled on the counter. "We would like at least one thousand of these kits. Ten thousand, if it can be done. Your store is too small to provide them all directly, but surely your distributors can provide. Harry will pay normal retail prices and you should get a good discount for such a large order. Harry can arrange for pickup at the distributors, saving their delivery fees, and you should be able to take half of the savings. If things work out as they should, you can clear six months' profit in a day. Now, let's sit down with a telephone and your supplier list and see what deals we can make. Harry, give me whatever money you're carrying; we'll use that as our earnest. Take the girls back to your house. I'll find my own way back."

Holy smokes, where did that come from? From the look on her face, Tracey had never seen that side of her grandmother before either. Steamroller Grammy, flattening obstacles and objections. Without a word, we three young'uns left the old ladies to their plans, apparating home as soon as we were out of sight.

Tracey's and my next job was to figure out how to keep several tons of food fresh for hours or a full day. The normal solution would be a cooling charm for short-term use or a rune-inscribed icebox for the long term. The problem is, my icebox, large as it is, wouldn't hold a tenth of the goods. I'm not sure I could apply a large enough cooling charm to cover it all even once, and it would have to be reapplied every hour or so. We could buy a few iceboxes… if the economy hadn't collapsed and everyone had not been ordered to stay at home.

Tracey and I experimented with casting charms together and in sequence. Not good enough. Neither of us knew enough rune crafting to even attempt making an icebox, even if the rune schemes weren't a trade secret.

Finally, after an hour of no progress, I smacked myself in the forehead, causing Natalie to look up in surprise before giggling at me.

"We'll do it the Muggle way. We can rent a refrigerated truck or a warehouse or even a restaurant cooler."

With the brainwave taken care of, it was easy to set up. We decided on a truck, so we could move it if the ministry or thieves started to hound us. Four hours and one roll of bills later we had lined up a truck each for the dry goods and the perishables. Mr Green took an agent's fee for connecting us with a friend of a friend who had trucks and needed work. The Greens were certainly doing well for themselves in our little wizarding crisis.

...oooOOOooo...

The next morning started very early. Many things to do if we were going to get people fed. Alas, from where I sat, or rather from where I lay, the late night and the early morning meant that Tracey and I didn't do anything but sleep. Still, it was nice to have the warm teddy bear and dream-free sleep. Nightmare-free. I certainly had dreams…

Before dawn Tracey, her parents, and Dobby went off to spread the word for people to come around to such-and-such address in Lincolnshire for food packages. We were hoping that enough people would contact their friends and neighbors that everyone who needed help would get it.

I took a large roll of cash to the wholesaler's location to pay them and the truckers and to make sure everything got loaded. This was going to take most of my muggle cash reserves. And I couldn't go and get some from the bank because I'd just paid my taxes on all my muggle property. That was ok; I'd figure out how to exchange a handful of gold for muggle cash in a few days. Besides that, in about a week I'd be getting some rent money on a handful of properties.

The truckers were there well before the required time, ready to stay all day, and willing to drive anywhere I told them so long as I paid mileage. It looked like the wizarding world wasn't the only one in a pinch. I paid half the base fee up front, as agreed, pleased that things were coming together despite being arranged in a hurry.

That didn't last long. Inside the food wholesaler's office I found there had been a "misunderstanding" and I'd have to pay extra fees in order to get my goods. All I had was Grammy's hand-written notes on the terms of the deal, no counter-signed purchase order or anything. I couldn't read the manager's mind but between the two of them I'd trust Grammy before him. I'd guess he'd gotten an idea of our urgency and thought he could hold us up for more money.

One greedy businessman wasn't going to keep me from feeding ten thousand people. I won't use magic to take advantage of the non-magical, but I won't be taken advantage of, either.

An hour later, I had my truckloads of food in an out-of-the-way intersection a few miles away. Dobby and the Davises were telling everyone to apparate to a hidden alleyway around the corner; the truckers wouldn't know they hadn't driven up.

Aside from the attempted early-morning rip-off, the day went surprisingly smoothly. Everyone else joined me shortly after the trucks were in position. Mr Davis and Marie vetted the people coming up; anyone could grab a food package and a flyer to invite their neighbors to come get some. Businessmen could sign a loan for a bag of galleons. Tracey handled the paperwork. Er, parchmentwork. Grammy and an energetic Natalie led everyone around the corner to the trucks. Dobby kept busy hopping around to the few businessmen we hadn't been able to reach yet. And I just floated around, watching for trouble. In particular I kept an eye on the gold; half a million galleons was a tempting target.

The expected happened right after I finished the sandwich Grammy brought me. Just as a bloody calf draws the wolves, word of a pile of galleons draws thieves. One "leader" and half a dozen "thug" types walked around the corner and clustered around the table where Marie and Robert sat. They hadn't seen me standing in a doorway ten feet off. Not professional criminals, experienced in these things.

Leader informed the Davises, "There doesn't need to be any trouble. We'll take the gold and let you finish what you're doing."

Marie started hyperventilating and backing away from the thugs until she hit the building behind her. She evidently didn't handle danger well. Robert was looking around for me and getting between Marie and the thugs.

"Gentlemen. Let's be reasonable here."

"Who said that?"

They didn't recognize me? How could that be? In the past few years I've been pictured at least as much as Dumbledore. I should have gone for that Witch Weekly Most Charming Smile Award. Maybe that would have gotten me the extra fame I deserve.

"It's Harry Potter. And that's my gold you're trying to steal."

"Potter! No one said you were here." The thugs shuffled around uneasily and backed away a bit from the Davises.

"Sully. I didn't recognize you at first. I hope your kids are well. What is it you want?"

Sullivan looked at me as if I were insane. "The gold, of course. We need it. My kids, you asked about my kids. Well, they're getting hungry. Just like everyone else. And we figured, if we can take the gold we heard about, then it's ours. The whole world is falling apart and the ministry can't stop it, so it's every man for himself."

"You can walk around the corner and grab a bag of food, no questions asked. That'll keep a family fed for about a week. But why haven't you looked for work? Only the magical world has fallen down. The muggle world is still working. I'm sure you and your big, strong lads could have found work in a warehouse or dockyard."

"Work for muggles? Are you crazy? They don't have anything I need."

"That food I just offered you? It came from the muggles. Almost all of our food comes from the muggle world." I turned to the half-dozen "muscle" Sully had brought. "Gentlemen. I will have a bit of work for some people in about a week. They must be able to follow orders and be open-minded about muggles and half-bloods, or at least able to keep their mouths shut. If you wish, leave your names with the Davises here. Sullivan, I'm afraid I don't have any work for a man who doesn't respect that the magical world can't live without the muggles."

With his backup not only neutralized but co-opted, Sully had no choice but to back down. He did take a food package after I encouraged him to think of his children. That was the last problem of the day. We got a handful more "muscle" types leaving their names with the Davises. I guess the first group spread the word to their friends.

...oooOOOooo...

Next morning, I woke up too sore to move. Who'd have thought that standing up all day would leave me so tired and sore? I felt like I did after my first Quidditch practices, when as an eleven year old I was expected to keep up with fifteen year olds for three hours.

Tracey and I helped each other to get up and cleaned up – she was just as sore as I, and for the same reason – and staggered out to the knowing looks of her mother and grandmother. I wouldn't mind the looks if we'd done anything to earn them. As it was, it was just another annoyance, another unearned reputation. At least this one wouldn't have people yelling for me to save them.

After breakfast and an open-mouthed goodbye kiss and a hug from Tracey and Natalie (I'll let you figure out which witch dished which), I apparated to the workshop of Roger Crampen, broom maker. I had recognized him as he passed through the day before to get food. He didn't need a loan to pay his staff, as he had plenty on hand, but he needed food because the wizarding shops and markets were shut down and he had no idea of how to buy food from muggles, nor any muggle money to buy it with. I could admire his craftsmanship without respecting his inability to survive in the world.

In any event, I got Crampen's address and went to replace my destroyed Firebolt. This was part of my efforts to increase my own ability to survive in the world. I'd already stashed food and water in my belt pouch and added a few other supplies.

I left a thousand galleons lighter, but the proud owner of a rather fast and extremely agile new broom, as well as a used but good enough fallback broom. I carried them away rather than let anyone see that I carried goodies with me everywhere.

Back home, I set to work making portkeys. I might be able to make ten per day on top of the apparating I was doing. Every little bit helps. I'd leave it to Mr Davis to figure out how to get them to the people who'd use them.

...oooOOOooo...

During a break between portkeys, I found that Tracey also had a moment free. I winked and gestured for her to come with me. We found Dobby tidying up the bedrooms.

"So, Dobby, what was her name?" His hangover was old news, so a bit of teasing was in order.

"Excuse me, Mister Great Harry Potter Sir?"

"It must have been a girl elf, right? What else would make you get so drunk your last day of vacation?"

"Dobby doesn't remember elfette's name, but Dobby got her tea cozy." He pulled a scrap of cloth from within his uniform and rubbed it on his face, inhaling deeply.

Beside me, Tracey had an appalled look on her face, no doubt matching mine. We backed away without another word, hoping to avoid any more sordid details.

...oooOOOooo...

The next break had me looking for Natalie to run around the yard with for a while until I could make another portkey. She and Tracey were in her room, decorating a bit.

"Tracey, why didn't you bring your poster to your new room?"

Tracey glanced at me and blushed. I paid closer attention to what Natalie was saying. This ought to be good.

"We can worry about that later, Nat. Hey, do you want to go outside and go for a walk?"

I was disappointed. Seven years in the house of subtlety and clever plans and that was the best she could come up with? That wouldn't even fool a five year old, Tracey.

"Why don't you want to talk about your Harry Potter poster? If I had one, I'd put it on the ceiling so I could look at it when I went to sleep just like you did."

Tracey was trying to hush Natalie, with about as much success as I ever had. She was also glancing at me out of the corner of her eye and blushing even more.

"You told me it was a secret but we don't have secrets from the family and Harry's family now, right?"

Helping her overcome this excessive shyness would be good for her. Yes, it was my duty to tease her into normal behavior.

"You know, Tracey, if you wanted to see me over you in bed, all you had to do was ask."

Oops. Five year old, right here. Well, at least Tracey wasn't embarrassed any longer. Now she was just mad at me. Time to find someplace else to be.

I worked on the house's wards some more. It needed to be done, and it was just lucky for me that it had to be done from my study, which not even Dobby could enter without my permission.

The wards were giving me nothing but grief. The instruction manual talked about "permissions" for "users", "groups", and "world". I knew all of those words, but they must have some other meaning than the usual. I just couldn't figure out how to set things up so that Mr Davis could come in by himself and not in a "group" with Marie. And I had no idea how "bitty masks" fit into it. Maybe it was an arithmancy thing. I knew just enough arithmancy to get by, and maybe not even that much. That was more Hermione's thing, with her dragging me along for the ride.

I kept poking and changing things and seeing what difference it made. Usually not what I wanted. I managed to bar Dobby so severely that he couldn't even pop onto the property until I reset the wards. I'm sure I would have locked myself out of the house, except that as the blood-bonded owner I could always get in.

...oooOOOooo...

I was making portkeys well into the evening and watching Natalie most of the day. Grammy had over-exerted herself, watching the kid and taking care of other things on top of it. I was the only member of our group who could make portkeys – that is, the only one who could make portkeys that were safe to use – and could be spared from other jobs, so I got the duty. Not that it was that much of a duty. She was a good kid and helped me make supper and made me a cup of tea toward the end of the day when I'd made the last portkey I could squeeze out and was so exhausted I could barely walk. Before then, though, we had a lot of fun running around the yard and setting up a tea party for her new dolls.

...oooOOOooo...

The next morning had me waking up sore and magically tired, the result of making too many portkeys the day before. In particular, it had me waking up with a curvy, not especially dressed young lady snuggled into me, and me too tired and sore to enjoy it properly. I was working myself to death and missing out on the fun of being a young man with a young woman who liked him. I hoped everyone appreciated the sacrifices I was making.

Who am I kidding? This was the wizarding world. The major response would be, "What else can you do for me?" By next week it would be, "What have you done for me lately?"

Case in point, this morning had me visiting several groups of businessmen. Quite a few were getting nervous about the safety of the market. Not safety from criminals, safety from the ministry. Er, put that another way: they were worried about official criminals, not self-employed criminals. Aside from the general orders for everyone to stay home and not communicate, there were rumblings of new laws affecting businesses and public gatherings. Everyone wanted to see me, to make their worries go away. Yes, that's me: Harry Potter, combination teddy bear and lucky rabbit's foot.

This was hardly an ideal job for me. I'm not comfortable with strangers, thanks to my "freakish" childhood as well as people trying to kill me for the past seven years. And as the morning progressed I was starting to really resent the role I was supposed to play. Defending Britain from a power-hungry madman as an incidental part of defending myself from that madman does not mean I'm obligated, or prepared, to defend the population from a power-mad government. Although the same approach I'd used to defeat the undead fool might work here…

By lunchtime I'd had it. From where I stood, the only good to come from the day was that I'd arranged to stop at a few of their shops that afternoon so that I could add to the tools and supplies and cool stuff I carried with me. I guess that's one benefit of a broken economy: if you have cash in hand, you can get excellent service and specialty goods.

...oooOOOooo...

After my errands, and during Natalie and Grammy's nap time, Tracey ran into me in one of the lounges while I was between portkeys.

"Harry, there's something I have to get off my chest."

"Please say it's your shirt, please say it's your shirt…"

"No, you goof!" Tracey looked at me under her lashes for a moment. Her hands moved to her neckline. "If I open a button while I tell you my true confession, will you listen better or not at all?"

"Better, I promise!" Hers wouldn't be the first cleavage I'd seen but it was very nice and it had been a while and that's two buttons down and she's not wearing a bra!

"Harry. Harry! You're not listening."

"Um, no. Sorry. I was memorizing."

Tracey snorted. That wasn't ladylike enough so she switched to a giggle.

"Harry, I had a crush on you for years. I think it started during the Triwizard Tournament when you rescued that little girl. Then after you killed You-Know-Who it came back full storm."

"That's perfectly understandable. Harry Potter, rescuer of fair maidens, vanquisher of dark lords, and swinging sex god, that's me."

"Yes, Mr Modest." Tracey poked me in the ribs. I responded with a wandless tickling charm, she retaliated with tickling fingers, and we wound up on the couch ten minutes later with puffy lips and more buttons undone.

"So, you were saying about your crush?"

"Oh, there's not much more to it. I bought one of your posters and a plushie. I just wanted to tell you, so you wouldn't think I was a stalker like Weasley."

"I'd kind of figured it out, between the Harry Potter bedtime stories and the Harry Potter poster. But really, over your bed? I'd never have guessed. I wonder if we can put Natalie in as a spy with some of our enemies."

"She wouldn't get any useful information, just embarrassing stories."

"Haha. And you want to talk about creepy stalkers? In our sixth year Slughorn warned me that some of the girls had been asking him about love potions and lust potions and I don't know what else. He warned me to vanish all of my hairs and fingernail clippings and even to scourgify glasses and silverware I'd used, before I let them out of my sight. And to get checked for potions at least once a month. And even though I was careful I got caught twice each semester in sixth year."

"How many times was it Weasley?"

"None, actually. I was extra careful around her because her mother told her and Hermione the very funny story of how she dosed Mr Weasley with love potions in school. Great story to tell the kids, huh? 'You wouldn't have been born if I hadn't illegally drugged your father.'"

...oooOOOooo...

Mister Davis arrived for supper in a foul mood. If I were the betting type, I'd bet his colleagues were trying to cheat him or take advantage of the crisis at the expense of everyone else.

And I've have lost that bet. Well, sort of.

"Those bastards! Miserable, stupid fools! Are they trying to destroy every damned thing?"

"Language, Dear." I was glad Marie said that. Natalie was staring wide-eyed at her father. "What went wrong?"

"The ministry. Of course. Ministry Decree 1998-0094 says that in order to prevent unscrupulous businessmen from taking advantage of the crisis at the expense of everyone else" – did I call it, or what? – "merchants will not be allowed to sell for more than they paid for any item without ministry approval. Decree 0095 says that all businesses dealing with the ministry or the public will need a new ministry license to operate. You're properly cynical, Mr Potter. Can you guess who approves the licenses?"

"Leading businessmen. Meaning rich purebloods with ties to the ministry or Wizengamot."

"Correct. They want to go back to the days of crown-granted monopolies, but covering all businesses."

That's not the only old-style thing they're trying. Not selling at a profit was a law from the French Revolution. Same justification, too. It led to black markets and high prices and shortages and executions. Don't these idiots know any history? No, of course not. If they went to Hogwarts in the past century, they had Binns and never learned anything useful. The only reason I knew was because of the World History course Hermione and I took.

"How does this affect our market? Will the other shopkeepers stay away?"

"They can't. Everyone is hanging on by a thread as it is. They have the choice of breaking the law or losing everything. They'll be there. But we'll have to plan for the ministry to come and break it up and arrest the ringleaders. That's you, Harry."

No problem. I'd already been thinking about new and improved defenses. I would resume wearing armor under my clothes. It was uncomfortable and inconvenient, so I'd stopped after beating Voldie but it seemed I had new enemies to replace the old.

The ministry didn't know where I lived any closer than "somewhere in Great Britain". That was technically a violation, but one which many rich purebloods committed. The ministry said we need to register our addresses for our protection, in case of trouble. I believed that rationale as much as I believed anything else coming out of the ministry. Similarly, my floo location was unknown. It had been set up before the latest round of increased monitoring of magical subjects. In theory DMLE could unseal the document giving my floo address and send someone to arrest me. In practice it would take a suicidal officer to make the trip. The Blacks did have quite the reputation. I'd turned down the protection from "no survivors" to buffeting travellers around as if they were caught in a stampede and shunting them to one of the cells in the sub-basement. Which reminded me, I ought to check to see if anyone was caught recently.

Mr Davis had continued to vent while I mused. He was talking about how businesses work. In order to stay in business, they had to sell at a profit. There were complications regarding economy of scale, loss leaders, and monopoly, but that's what it came down to. I was vaguely familiar with all of this from my studies but it was interesting to hear it from the a small businessman rather than from an economics textbook. The viewpoints were certainly different.

...oooOOOooo...

The next day was a repeat: stiff and sore, put on display, make portkeys, play with Nat. The only real difference was that Tracey was out with her own duties all day so I didn't even get any smooch time. I was starting to get tired and short-tempered and fed up with all this. To be fair, all of the Davises were working just as hard. (But a little voice whispered, They don't have a choice. They're working to save their business and their family.)

The other difference was that one of the men I talked to had something amusing to tell me.

"Harry," – What was it with people thinking they were on a first-name basis with me? Just because they thought they knew all about me didn't make them my friends – "my brother works for the Ministry. DMLE heard about your food give-away the other day. Thank you for that, by the way. They came to seize the 'evidence' and arrest everyone involved, but they showed up too late. Just minutes too late, from what Robert tells me. And congratulations on your magic masking charms. They found almost no evidence of magic except for hundreds of apparition signatures." Probably because we weren't using magic. Not that I'd expect any properly-raised wizard to think of that. "There were so many that no one could be identified. They somehow knew you were involved and wanted evidence to arrest you. You'll need to be careful if you come across any law enforcement, Harry."

...oooOOOooo...

That night Tracey joined me again. This was a habit I could get used to. After being alone my entire life it was nice to spend so much time with someone. It was nice to get used to being touched without it being a punch.

We had gotten over our shyness with each other – after sleeping together for almost a week, how could we not have? – but Tracey still prepared for the night in her own room and then came to join me. We'd kiss and cuddle a bit and then … nothing. I fell asleep. Every blasted night I was so tired that, beautiful, cuddly, and willing witch or no beautiful, cuddly, and willing witch, I fell asleep.

Randiness and self-esteem issues aside, Tracey's teasing was starting to get to me. Tonight was going to be different if it killed me. I wasn't quite as tired and I'd drunk some tea before coming to bed.

Like every previous night, Tracey pushed open my not-quite-shut door and ghosted in. Unlike previous nights, I met her in a hug as soon as the door latched. When my hands drifted down to cup her derrière, her eyebrows shot up before she deepened our kiss. When my hands tugged open her dressing gown, Tracey asked me, "Do you have plans for the night, Harry? Because I like what I'm seeing so far." So did I. Her opened gown showed a lacy camisole and matching high-thigh briefs.

Rather than answer Tracey's question verbally, I gave her a growl from deep in my throat and picked her up bridal style. The wisdom of the ancients who invented the bridal carry came to me as her gown fell down and away from her chest, while that very impressive chest was placed right in my face.

What followed was as much fun as you can have with a beautiful, cuddly, and willing witch while you leave your bottoms clothed. Having reached that limit, I asked Tracey if she wanted to continue. She didn't answer, just lay there breathing hard with glazed eyes. Figuring that wasn't a No, I wormed out of my briefs, then leaned back over Tracey for more kisses.

But she wasn't kissing back. Did I do something wrong? She was breathing hard and her eyes were wild, but not in a good way. "Tracey?" That drew her attention to me. Her eyes came into focus on my face, then traveled down my torso. Her rapid breathing came to an abrupt halt before she let out a piercing "No!", kicked me as she scrambled off the bed, and fumbled with the door. By the time I half-pulled on a dressing gown, she was out of sight.

"Dobby! Find Tracey. Make sure she's all right, but don't get near her. Come find me when you're sure she's ok." I headed toward the parents' room. This was a "mom" problem if I ever heard of one.

...oooOOOooo...

I had a hard time getting to sleep after I explained the situation to Marie. Dobby got me some tea, then I sat back and thought about what a useless person I was. Hero. I might as well just go out and find bad guys to kill and things to destroy. Maybe there was another species that needed to be exterminated. I wasn't any good for anything else.

There was a knock on my door, and then Marie came in. I must not have pushed it all the way shut after I came back in.

"Harry, please don't be angry with Tracey. And by all means, don't blame yourself. You got caught up in something that happened to Tracey some time ago."

That matched a few hints over the past few days. I nodded but didn't say anything. Despite logic and Marie's assurances, I still felt terrible and didn't trust my voice.

"Tracey will explain it later, after she pulls herself together. Really, Harry, it's not your fault. She really likes you. And Robert and I know you would not hurt her. Try to get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. Things will work out, you'll see."

Marie left me to my thoughts. They weren't as gloomy as before, but nightmares woke me up several times during the night. The same as before I started sleeping with Tracey. Only worse.

...oooOOOooo...

I dragged through the morning lining up a security team for the market. We needed people to keep an eye out for minor disputes and petty thefts, for potential large-scale attempted robbery, and for attempted arrests by the ministry. And above all, people who would be courteous to law-abiding shoppers and merchants. A difficult needle to thread, especially given my distrust of anyone with DMLE experience. Even more difficult because at the moment I was tired and plagued with self-doubt.

We lucked out with the team leader that a colleague of the Davises. Until this week I'd never realized how useful it was to know people who know people. Before this, I'd had one or two close friends and we did everything ourselves. I learned young that I couldn't rely on authority figures, but maybe I'd over-learned the lesson.

In any event, William Smithson had over twenty years' experience in DMLE. He'd quit before I was born, disgusted with the politicization of the department and the uselessness of the efforts to fight Voldemort.

"Registering the names and addresses of all muggle-borns' family members was the final straw. No matter what Creeves – the old head of DMLE – what Creeves said, it wasn't for their protection. With all the killing and terrorizing going on, there was no chance an auror team would be send if there was an attack on muggles. All they were doing was making a nice list for the Death Eaters."

"So the purebloods were using the same tricks twenty years ago as they were last year. Wonderful. I think I know who the real enemies are."

"Careful now, Mr Potter. Not all purebloods are the same. Not all of us need to put everyone else down. I'm a pureblood, and so is Robert Davis. You'll make yourself some enemies if you lump us all together, and from what I hear you don't need any more."

It didn't seem right, being dressed down by someone I was thinking of hiring, but he made a good point. Last week my mouth was getting me in trouble with Tracey's parents. This week the damage might be greater, and not excused as an amusing slip of the tongue. Sure, I was tired and stressed and grouchy, but excuses don't get the job done.

"You're right. I'll work on that. But for what we need today, you told me what you used to do and why you left. What have you done since then?"

"I've taken it private. I consult with many wizarding businesses on security for their stores, provide bodyguards, provide courier service for valuables, and occasionally step in if crimes have been committed and DMLE won't get involved. On the muggle side I organize security for concerts and fairs and the like."

Jackpot! Exactly what I needed. I needed to thank the Davises' friend. I'd never have found Smithson on my own.

"You're hired. Do you have enough people? If you need more, I have a list of people I'd like you to interview. You make the call on whether they'll do, but I'm trying to help them find work until things pick up."

We covered a few administrative matters such as the size of the event and the security budget, then one more item. I'd made a device to aid with security. Dead simple to use. I'd leave it to his discretion when and how to use them at the market.

"These are a little hard to make. I can get about twenty to you by tomorrow evening. I'll get someone to bring them – I'll be too tired to apparate if I do that many. Think about how you want to use them and let me know if twenty will be enough. Oh, and if you're curious about how it works, don't take it apart. It'll blow your hand off." That was a complete lie, but I hadn't thought about booby traps when I made the first one. I wanted to keep a few of my tricks to myself. The batch I made today would self-destruct if opened.

...oooOOOooo...

"I'm sorry." We said it at the same time the first time we saw each other that day. I was louder so I went first.

"I'm sorry I pushed you too far last night. I won't do it again."

"It wasn't your fault, Harry. I was pushing you just as much. I'm sorry I ran off. I wasn't teasing you, honest."

"So what happened?"

"The only other time I saw a man naked was my old boyfriend. We were kissing and a bit more and he lost control and pulled my clothes off before I was ready. When your shorts came off I had a flashback."

"You don't just mean he went too fast, do you? He raped you."

"You might say that."

I thought about this for a moment, wondering what I could do. Emotional support, I supposed. But I was lousy at that. Vengeance was more in line with my talents.

Tracey watched me thinking. "You'll kill him if you find out who he is, won't you?"

I shrugged. I wouldn't set out to assassinate him, but he might not live past the first "suspicious move".

"Really, Harry, he's not a bad guy. He just lost control. Please don't do anything to him."

"It's ok. You were the one who was hurt, so it's your call. Besides, you could even say it was your fault."

"What!"

"You are one seriously sexy young lady, Tracey Davis. No man can resist you."

"Harry, you're a jerk. That's not something you say to a woman who's been – who's had something like this happen. I know you meant well, but don't say that.

"And besides, some men can resist my irresistible sexiness. You've been sleeping with me every night for a week, but it took you until last night to put the move on me. What is it? Great self control? I'm not as sexy as you say? Mrs Green was right about you?"

"What!"

"What am I supposed to think? If you don't even try to cop a feel at night, then I might as well sleep in my own room."

"No! I need you. Please stay." I leered at her. "I can grope you in my sleep if that's what you want." I moved closer for a hug, which she seemed to welcome.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You told me something painful and I made a joke of it. Let me make it up to you by telling you something painful about me."

"Your whole life has been painful, Harry, what I've heard of it. If this is painful compared to all the rest, I don't think I can take it."

"It's not much worse than the rest." Oddly, that didn't seem to allay her concerns. "You know how, my last year at school, your sixth year, there were all those rumors of me being seen with different girls in broom closets and back hallways? And some of the girls denied them and some of them said they were true? They were all lies."

"I knew they couldn't all be true. Amazing Boy-Who-Lived or not, you'd have needed a time turner to be everywhere they said you were. Er, you don't have one, do you?"

"No. The rumors were started by my real girlfriend. She wanted enough stories going around that if anyone caught us and told about it, it would be just another rumor. It worked pretty well. Though it turned out we didn't need it. We were careful and were never caught."

Tracey thought it over. "Granger, right? She's practically the only girl in the upper four years that there weren't rumors about. Other than Parkinson, and I can't see you taking Draco's leavings. Or was it a girl from one of the younger years? How about it, Harry, got a taste for the young stuff?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, and thank you for your faith in my upstanding character. Yes, it was Hermione. We spent a lot of time together, studying for our muggle A Levels and thinking about ways to kill Voldemort and get back at my relatives and fix wizarding society. And somewhere in there we fell in love. Realized we'd loved each other for years, really.

"So we danced around for a little while, then realized it was dumb to put things off because we could be killed any day. So in early June we finally made love and it was clumsy and embarrassing and we couldn't wait for more."

"And early June was the Hogsmeade attack."

"And early June was the Hogsmeade attack. We'd all gone down to the village. Hermione and I told Ron we were together and he didn't take it well. He was working his way up to a Weasley tantrum when the Death Eaters attacked."

"And Death Eaters killed Granger in that attack."

"And Ron Weasley killed Hermione in that attack. It was Ron's wand, there was no doubt about it. Ron swore up and down it was an accident, that Hermione dodged the wrong way, but I always wondered. There was the news we'd just told him, plus he didn't seem broken up about it enough afterward.

"So we had a screaming fight and it took Dumbledore to break it up. After that, none of the Weasleys want anything to do with me, and the feeling is mutual.

"So I guess we're both in pretty sorry shape when it comes to our sex lives, aren't we?"

"Oh, my poor Harry. You had it worse than I did. I still have a little guilt and self-doubt from my date gone bad, wondering what I should have done differently and how much was my fault. You must be tearing yourself apart, wondering if you hadn't told Weasley, would Granger still be alive."

"Not helping, Tracey." It was kind of funny that she was almost as maladroit as I. Our kids would need great dental insurance, with all the teeth that would be getting punched out. "Really, I'm mostly ok with what happened. My part in it, I mean. Hermione and I would have had to tell Weasley at some point, and it wasn't our fault he was so immature and jealous. And if he didn't mean to hex Hermione from behind, well, it was a battle and these things happen. Really, I'm ok, and this is only a little bit of my nightmares."

Tracey looked at me doubtfully for a minute before drawing the hug tighter. She didn't seem much better at offering comfort than I was. Maybe that's because of years in Slytherin House under Snivellus, or maybe because she had a loving family and had never needed that much comforting.

"Why don't we drop this for now? We've still got a million things to do."

"You're right. Just one more thing. Tracey, will you please sleep with me tonight? Clothes on, clothes off, it's your call. But I'm happier and sleep better when you're with me."

"Of course, Harry. Let me fix my face and we'll get back to work."

She'd been crying. I hadn't even noticed. I didn't know what to do, so I returned to making portkeys and changing the wards.

...oooOOOooo...

Tracey and I actually had time for some pillow talk that night before passing out. We were both fully clothed. The hands under the tops made that at least half pointless, but for the record we were both fully clothed.

"Harry? Why is Ron Weasley still alive?"

"Does it really matter? It's in the past and law enforcement cleared him, even if it was because of his family and Hermione being just a worthless mudblood. If I went after him now, it would be cold blooded murder and I've never done that."

"It might matter. You still have enemies. And people who don't like what you're doing. Even if they're not hexing you every day, they're out there. And some of them, if they can get at you through your friends, or your girlfriend, they will. If you'd killed the man who killed your last girlfriend, I'd feel – I mean, they might not do it."

Killing Weasley to make a point to potential killers and kidnappers. I liked the sound of that…

"Are you my girlfriend, Tracey?"

"Mmmmaybe. I don't want to be hurt, Harry. By you or by your enemies."

"I won't hurt you on purpose. I promise. And I can give you a portkey like the one I wear. But I don't know if I can have a real girlfriend. I've been betrayed by everyone I trusted and it's going to take me a long time to really trust anyone."

Apparently that wasn't what Tracey wanted to hear. She removed my hand from inside her shirt and turned her back on me. She didn't leave the room, though. Maybe all hope wasn't lost.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. But I won't lie to you. This is all I can give you now.

"But I'll tell you this: over the past couple days I've wondered what our kids would be like." She stiffened. "And I haven't left the country yet. Maybe it's not enough, but it's all I have, Tracey."

It was enough. Our clothes stayed on that night, but we fell asleep comfortably twisted around each other.

...oooOOOooo...

Two days before the market, I still had a lot on my plate. Most of the arrangements had been made by this point, but we were still contacting some more merchants and other businesses to offer loans and a space in the market. I had to make the boxes for Smithson's security team. There was a lot of last-minute coordination, too. The floo was still down and owls were too slow for the number of messages being passed, so yours truly was drafted. If I needed a career after all this, I could set up a magical telegram service. Maybe deliver packages, too, though if I invented the candy-gram they probably wouldn't even give me credit for it.

By lunchtime, I was moving pretty slowly. Apparating so many times a day for a whole week, and making portkeys on top of that, leaves you magically drained and physically sore. That is, it leaves me tired and sore. Most magical humans wouldn't be able to do it so many times and would likely kill themselves if they tried. Yet another aspect of "the power he knows not", put to use for parcel post.

In any event, Marie and Grammy noticed that I wasn't doing too well and told me to take it easy the rest of the day. "Easy" in this case meant taking care of Natalie. We had too much to do to have someone sitting around doing nothing. Possibly we could have hired someone to watch Nat and help with meals, what with Dobby being even busier than the rest of us. There was the little problem of me having to trust them enough to let them into my house, but I'm sure we could have found someone…if anyone had thought of it. We'd all been too busy to think of how to do things faster or easier. There was a saying, something about alligators and swamps.

While I was pushing Natalie on a swing in the back yard, Tracey apparated in. She looked worse than I felt. She'd been trying to keep up with me. Trying to show she could carry her weight, I think. It was a foolish gesture. Pardon the ego, but I have more magical power than almost anyone. And pardon the self pity, but I've had to develop a higher tolerance for pain than almost anyone.

Marie took one look at Tracey, gave her a pain potion, and told her not to use magic for the rest of the day.

We needed groceries – Again! I couldn't believe how much seven busy people ate compared to two. – so I escorted the younger Davis ladies on a nice walk into town. We'd see the sights, such as they were, then grab the grub on the way back.

Our first stop, by popular demand, was a small restaurant. They had a few outdoor tables on a patio, so I suppose it was a café, but in deference to English weather the tables all had large umbrellas. The reason for stopping here shortly after lunch was the large sign on the sidewalk. Natalie had grabbed my ears as I carried her on my shoulders and turned my head that way while shouting "Ice Cream! Ice Cream!" I didn't even know she could read yet, but apparently she recognized the important words.

The ladies' orders having been placed and filled, the owner came out to chat. I didn't know him beyond waving if I passed by. Apparently he knew me.

"Tell me, Mr Potter, does your young man at home know you've been spending time with this fine young lady? It's not my place to judge what makes a man happy, but I can tell you that sneaking around is a sure path to misery."

Tracey's float fountained into her face as she guffawed into her straw. Natalie had been too busy with her three scoops – raspberry, chocolate, and coffee, of all unholy combinations – to listen but shrieked with laughter at Tracey's new look.

"Mister, er, what's your name? Mister Wilson, that whole rumor got started because of a misunderstanding, and it seems to have spread all over town."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Harry," my helpful friend put in. "From what you said the other day, I think you stuck your foot in your mouth all by yourself."

"Yes, Tracey, thank you, Tracey. Mr Wilson, I don't have a boyfriend. I've never had a boyfriend. I don't want a boyfriend. A girlfriend suits me just fine."

"Tracey sleeps with Harry every night! Just like Mommy and Daddy."

With this helpful comment making an awkward end to the conversation as well as marking the end of the ice cream, we soon left to see more of the village.

The next place that caught our eye was a wearable junk shop, for lack of a better description. It had uselessly small purses, belts and scarves, buttons with "funny" sayings, and so on. Even glittery plastic "princess" tiaras. This took up only one wall of the shop, but it had a lot of pink and really caught the eye. Both girls were drawn in like moths to a flame.

"Hello, Harry, how are you doing?" Anna, the proprietor, asked. I knew her slightly, having talked in the Greens' grocery store a few times. She was in her late twenties and quite pretty and fashionable in a trying-too-hard-to-hang-on-to-her-youth way. "Are you shopping for your friends or for yourself I don't think I have anything that suits your hair and eyes but if you want to make a statement that you're comfortable with who you are you can't go wrong with a tiara a princess tiara says 'I may not be a queen but baby watch out."

She got that out in one breath: very impressive. She was calling me gay: very annoying.

Tracey was practically guffawing out her ears as she pressed her hands over her nose and mouth: ok, I could kind of see the humor in this.

"Tracey, when I'm better dressed than you and all the boys are after me, promise you won't be jealous?"

"You bet, Harry. Maybe we can do each other's hair." Tracey couldn't keep it together any longer and collapsed against me. Natalie had no idea what was so funny, but laughed because her sister was.

"Anna, why on earth would you think I wanted a tiara?"

"Everyone says you're, um, that way, Harry." She had edited what she was going to say to suit the juvenile audience. Good thing. I was feeling protective. I couldn't figure out why everyone, even her parents, was talking about adult topics around a child, but it was getting on my nerves.

"No, Anna. I'm not. Who started that rumor and how can I stop it? And why does anyone care, anyway?"

"I don't know where it started. Everyone's saying it. And why wouldn't they? Small town, not much news. Then a rich, single, young man arrives and is not bad looking but seems to not be in the market. And as for stopping it, a date or two might do it."

Was she coming on to me, right in front of my very attractive sort-of girlfriend?

Tracey's giggles dropped in an instant. "Sorry to tell you, Anna, but Harry is in the market but off the market," she growled, marking her territory by digging her claws into me. Point those at the other kitty, Kitty. That hurts!

"Oh, it doesn't have to be a date with me," Anna backtracked. "I'm sure you're good enough for that."

My God, Anna must have a death wish. I held Tracey's hand in case she grabbed for her wand. She gritted her teeth around something that sounded like "spinsters chasing my boyfriend" before suggesting, "Nat, Harry, let's get out of here. I'm afraid that if we stay any longer I'll get old and desperate, too."

Bloodshed having been postponed, we three looked for something relaxing and fun. There weren't many options here in Tinytown. I lived here for the quiet, after all.

We ended up just walking around for an hour, returning waves but not risking any more conversations with the locals. "Walking" meant Tracey walking under her own power but Natalie clinging to me most of the time: riding piggyback, clambering back up on my shoulders, riding on one hip so we could have face-to-face chats, and anything else you can think of. The ice cream gave her the energy to climb all over me like a monkey. Too bad it didn't give her the energy to use her feet in any productive fashion.

"Oh! Be careful there, Squirt. Don't kick Harry there. I have plans for that."

After an eye gouge and another low blow, both accidental, I declared the walk over and proceeded directly to the grocery store. The afternoon was a mixed success. I wasn't much less stressed, but coffee at the café had given me a boost and I had some acute pains to take my mind off my overall soreness.

The evening brought news that there had been a rash of strange home burglaries all across Britain. In every case food was stolen but the valuables were untouched. There was never a sign of forced entry and the homeowners never remembered seeing anything, though home security systems were set off.

It seemed that the food distribution didn't reach everyone, or wasn't enough. And it seemed that the market was coming just in time. I hoped it was enough. Wizarding Britain didn't need to have non-magical Britain looking for them on top of the other troubles.

...oooOOOooo...

After breakfast I apparated over to the market site in order to set muggle-repelling and notice-me-not charms. This wasn't going to be a permanent market and thus wasn't worth the time and expense of setting wards. Besides, we didn't want to keep the owner off of his own land. Charms were the way to go. They would last only about two days at most, no matter how much I exhausted myself on them, which was why I was doing it so late.

One of my hired security men disillusioned himself to greet me. "All quiet, Mr Potter. About six shopkeepers came by to check their portkey coordinates or to check that everything was ready."

That last seemed a waste of time. The field had deliberately been left untouched until I got the charms up. This afternoon a crew would take care of the "common" areas. It would be up to the merchants to set up their own booths. If the shopkeepers had waited a few hours, they'd be able to see some progress or get started early themselves, but right now there was nothing to see.

"Do you have everything you need? Your shift isn't too long?"

"Don't you worry about that, Mr Potter. Mr Smithson, he put twenty years in DMLE. He knows all there is to know about setting a watch. Us grunts, we don't have all that but he's taking care of us. And I want to say, just from me, thank you for hiring me, Mr Potter. I've got a wife to provide for, and there's been nothing coming in and nothing to buy for a week, and things were rocky before that. That food packet, it kept us eating, and this two days' pay lets me pay my rent for the month and let my wife do a little shopping at the market. So thank you again, Sir."

"I'm glad to help. Make sure that Smithson knows how to reach you. No promises, but I'm hoping to have more work soon."

What followed was not much of a challenge in terms of magical skill but quite a feat in terms of magical effort. I needed a circle a quarter mile across, more if I could manage it. Normally a wizard casting a notice-me-not charm makes a circular ring big enough to cover a few people or maybe a small room. Notice-me-not charms interfere with each other, so a set of overlapping charms covering the entire area will have a lot of dead zones where things can be noticed from the outside. Fortunately, muggle-repelling charms can be laid in a ring surrounding the protected area, so I needed to exhaust myself on only one really big charm.

When it was all done, the security man – Carson? Carlson? My mind was fuzzy – helped me stand up and guided me to trigger my portkey home. I went to bed right away.

...oooOOOooo...

After I caught a nap and lunch, Mr Davis made sure to catch me.

"Mr Potter, if this is a convenient time, could we talk in private?"

I nodded and led him to my den. He looked around a bit. There were some interesting knick-knacks. None of the Davises had seen this room before. It was one of the protected rooms which only I could enter unescorted.

I offered him brandy. From what little I knew of "polite" behavior, the seriousness of the conversation seems to call for it. Apparently this was the proper move. His eyebrows went up at the label on the bottle. I can't take any credit for the choice; the drinks cupboard had been stocked by the Blacks before I inherited the house and I hadn't touched it beyond checking for poison.

"Mr Potter, you do not understand most of the customs of the magical world. You were not raised here. I'm sure you have picked some up in school and perhaps you've read a book on the customs of Wizarding Britain, but that's not the same as understanding them. In many ways you don't know how we think.

"I want you to know, I do approve, both of you as a man and of you and Tracey being together." He waved his hand around, taking in the whole of my house. "You can obviously provide for her. I've been watching how you act around her, and around Natalie. Natalie adores you, of course. Her hero can do no wrong. But I see how you take time to play with her even when Tracey isn't watching. You're not just pretending to be a nice guy. Not like – ah, a former boyfriend. I shouldn't talk about him.

"I've also been putting the pressure on you. All fathers are protective of their daughters, the more so if the daughter is teenaged and pretty. It is hard to let go and accept it when they've grown up. But I'm not that bad. At our first meeting, at our front door in Kent, I had been frightened for my daughter and when I saw she was safe, relief turned to anger. At you, because you were there. I apologize. You did not deserve that.

"However, after that, it was clear you were attracted to each other. I deliberately put on the pressure and acted the overprotective, unreasonable father. I wanted to see if you would be scared away, or would take her to bed immediately to show you weren't scared off, or would hide behind Natalie or Tracey. You did just fine, young man. If you need them, you have my apologies for how I've acted the past few days.

"If you wish to date my daughter, you have my blessings as well as Marie's. More formally, Mr Potter, you have my permission to court my daughter.

"I'm sure you both wish to continue to sleep together. I won't object. Just please don't flaunt it. I understand the world is changing, but I was raised with the older values. I want to be able to lie to myself that my daughter is following tradition."

...oooOOOooo...

I got in a bit of boyfriend time with Tracey on Market Day, but not much before Dobby rousted us out of bed. We'd gone to bed, and to sleep, very early last night, but it was still an ungodly time to have to get up. I couldn't even yell at him for this, as I'd asked him to make sure everyone was up in time.

That was ok. Tracey had managed to get a grip on, er, her fears and I had high hopes for the evening.

We all took one of my spare portkeys to the market field, Natalie screaming the whole way. I thought she was terrified, but "Again! Again!" as she tumbled away from the landing site suggested I should take her to an amusement park next week.

We bought breakfast from one of the vendors, partly to support the market, more to visibly support the market, and even more to give Dobby a bit of a break. As busy and tired as the rest of us were, he was twice as much. He was working himself into the ground for a cause he didn't even support. He was working so hard because I wanted this to succeed. There's friendship for you.

Marie went to take care of the Davis booth while the other ladies got some more sleep in the back. Mr Davis, Dobby, and I were the problem-solving squad. The problems were non-stop for the three hours before the market's "doors" opened, and they were infinitely varied in their ridiculousness. "He set up in my spot!" "I brought the wrong color supports for my booth and now it looks wrong!" "I forgot to tell my wife where I'd be today!" These are the people I've been busting my butt to help? I tried to deal with the problems – with the people – with a smile on my face, really I did, but Mr Davis sent me back to check on the ladies before too long. Both he and Mr Smithson assured me that these problems were no more than the usual when you get a large group of people trying to do something. Maybe it's something like what Marie told me a week ago: most people aren't shrieking Boy-Who-Lived groupies, or utterly lacking in common sense, but you notice only the groupies and the fools.

To be fair to them, almost everyone I talked with thanked me for my part in getting the market going.

But still. If more of them had the common sense to be able to set up a booth for a country market, maybe society wouldn't have fallen to pieces when Gringotts was destroyed.

...oooOOOooo...

When we opened the gates, customers streamed in, mostly looking happy and excited. Good start! Many had coin in their pockets thanks to the business loans last week. There'd been a bit of commerce going on despite the ministry's stay-at-home order. Mr Davis was right: faced with starvation, even the most sheep-like people would disobey the ministry.

On that topic, much of the crowd headed straight for the food vendors, who had strategically been placed at the farthest point from the entrance.

Molly Weasley's voice cut through the crowd. I was too far away to make out words, but there was no mistaking the harridan's voice and tone. I headed for the trouble, waving a couple of large security men to come with me to make an intimidating presence. I'd put in too much work over the past week to allow Molly the Mouth to ruin it all.

"… you can't extend credit. My family has been a mainstay of society for four hundred years and my husband, Arthur, has a very important job with the ministry. Surely if you can sell to a young assistant shop keeper you can sell to me."

"If the assistant shop keeper has money in hand, of course we'll sell to her. If she came in demanding credit, I'd toss her out."

"Like anyone's strong enough to toss that lard ball anywhere," muttered one of my security guys. I couldn't stop my snort fast enough to avoid the lard ball's attention.

"There you are, Potter. I'd heard you were in the thick of things. Arthur told me you've been making loans to reputable families. I'll take one of those loans."

"You heard wrong. And even if I were making loans to reputable families, yours wouldn't qualify. And even if your family were reputable, you want me to stay away from you forever, remember? Maybe you've forgotten a year ago but I never will."

"That's no way to act, Potter. Harry, I mean. You know our family has always been there for you, treating you as one of our own, until you said those terrible things in the heat of the moment. We can put that all behind us now."

"Maybe I did say things in the heat of the moment. What's your excuse? 'You're a disgrace. It would be better if you had died.' I will never forgive that."

I ground my teeth for a moment. That betrayal unexpectedly still hurt. "And it doesn't matter. Here, today, the market is for people to buy things. If you don't have any money, you shouldn't be here. And if you cause trouble for the people who should be here, then you can be thrown out."

I had to shout that last bit to be heard over the Wrath of Weasley. She had quite the mouth on her. For all that she struck her children or soaped their mouths for any hint of naughty language, Molly was swearing up a storm.

A quick silencing spell stopped the tirade. And then a quick grab by one of the security team stopped her from belting me. I've grown some, but Molly Weasley still outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds and a punch in the head would have sent me flying.

A couple more first-year spells trussed up the pushy pauper and floated her behind me as I walked around the market, asking all of the merchants if they would be willing to extend credit to the Weasleys. Really, I was doing it for her benefit. Mending fences, you might say. It only looked as if I were making sure that everyone could see her humiliation.

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley, but no one is willing to sell to you. We only have so much room in this field so I afraid you'll have to leave so we can fit in three or four other, normal people." Oh, that got her even madder! It's not nice, but I'll take whatever petty revenge I can against the entire family. "This portkey will take you, ah, someplace. Not here. Ta-ta! Don't hurry back!" You might wonder why I had a one-way portkey to the stage of a 24-hour gay nightclub in Monaco. My answer: you'll never know when you'll find a use for one.

Mr Davis pulled me aside to give a short lecture on the importance of appearing mature in public, but I wasn't listening. I had a huge backlog of aggravation to vent. If my venting didn't leave corpses, then no one had any real cause to complain.

...oooOOOooo...

Wandering around the market in the mid-afternoon, I saw lots of happy shoppers and lots of even happier but tired businessmen. Money and goods were changing hands, so I guess everything was good. A lot of the trade had been in food and other necessities, to the extent that the grocery vendors were out of stock by noon. Maybe the wizarding public had learned to think ahead a bit. That would be better than good.

Tracey, Grammy, and Natalie were doing their part to stimulate the economy. I'd given Tracey one of the thousand-galleon pouches. When her eyes widened, I told her to buy presents for Nat for being so cooperative all week and get something nice for herself and give the rest to Grammy for food and other sensible purchases. "But if you want to buy me a present, see if you can ditch the kid and the old lady and find some sexy sleepwear that looks good on you." Tracey blushed and swatted me on the arm – Victorian morals – but then pinched me on the rear and waggled her hips as she walked off.

I hadn't advertised my name as the one funding the market or loaning money to businesses, but it seemed that everyone seemed knew. With every step I took someone else would come up and thank me for pulling them through the last week. I tried to be gracious about the thanks and shake hands as indicated. That was sometimes embarrassing but not too bad. But the testimonies of how hard things were before I came along made me feel really awkward. I do not want to be the Savior who makes everything better every time the people get themselves into trouble.

Mr Davis told me in passing that a few of the vendors had told him they'd already be able to repay their loans and still have money for expenses and more stock. If that was true, then my financing the restart of the economy had paid off big.

The Sirius Security members were getting lots of looks and some questions, probably because they were new and unknown. Their brassards were distinctive but not obtrusive like the bright red auror cloaks – I mean really, what genius came up with the idea of dressing Dark Wizard Hunters like St Nick? They were being polite to the questioners. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.

Aaaaaand I spoke too soon. There must be some kind of magical jinx on that thought. I have a very powerful magical core, and so every single time I think things are going well, some catastrophe hits immediately after.

The catastrophe of the day was the arrival of aurors, "lesser" DMLE coppers, and Ministry bureaucrats, a dozen and a half in all. I headed straight for the gang; I would inevitably be drawn into whatever trouble they were trying to make, so there was no point in putting it off. As I went, I flashed a signal to Smithson to get ready for trouble. It wasn't as if we hadn't expected this. In fact, it was a little surprising it took them so long to get here. The efficiency we expect of the Ministry, most likely.

"Welcome to the Super Saturday Magical Market. Are you here to shop for your families? I'm afraid we can't offer credit to ministry employees, but your gold is always welcome."

"We're here to–" one of the desk-jockeys started.

"Potter! We have a warrant for your arrest. Lay down your wand and come here quietly."

Wow, the aurors were after me. Did that make me an official Dark Wizard? I made a note to tell Tracey. Maybe she'd think dark wizards are sexy.

"Do you mind showing me this warrant before I drop my wand? And some proper identification for yourselves while you're at it. I don't recognize any of you. Maybe that's because you aurors were nowhere to be found when I was killing Voldemort." Cue the flinches. No wonder Wizarding Britain hung their hopes on a seventeen year old. Even their elite law enforcement are a bunch of cowards.

"No more of your lip, Potter. Now drop the wand and turn yourself in or it'll go hard on you." Mr Mouth, still unidentified, seemed mighty brave, facing down a teenager with five of his red-robed friends nearby. Too bad these elite dark wizard hunters weren't just a bit more elite. Maybe they'd have noticed that they were being surrounded by not only the beginnings of an angry mob but by a few wizards in distinctive brassards.

"Mr Potter, we are here because this is an illegal gathering, in opposition to Ministry Decree 1998-0074. Are you in charge of this gathering?" I'll give the one bureaucrat credit, his self-assurance let him talk right over Mr Mouth.

"Not exactly. I helped to arrange it, but it's not mine." I needed to delay the confrontation a bit. Not enough of my security wizards were around us yet, and the merchants and shoppers needed time to clear out in case Plan A didn't work.

"As the arranger, you will have to answer for this gathering. This gathering is plainly in violation of the law and you have admitted responsibility. Under Ministry Decree 1998-0071, 'Extraordinary Powers for the Financial Crisis', we are authorized to detain you at the Minister's pleasure."

"You're a lawyer, aren't you?" I hate lawyers. Magical British lawyers, at any rate. "I've never seen either of those so-called decrees. The Prophet has stopped delivery and the public isn't allowed into the ministry building. Unless you have a copy of these decrees, I'll take it that you're just making stuff up as you go. And I still haven't seen a copy of this so-called warrant, either. What's the matter, Red? Didn't the lawyer types trust you to carry your own paperwork?" Maybe I could get them fighting each other.

No such luck. "Potter! You're under arrest! Down on the ground, now!" "Potter, you are only compounding your crimes. Under Ministry Decree 1998-0077, 'Cost Saving Measures', ministry decrees are not copied in order to save on parchment." It looks like a career in diplomacy is not in my future.

The aurors looked ready to start shooting while their boss kept yelling at me. The lead desk jockey was still babbling. The other desk jockeys were hiding behind the regular coppers. None of them were paying any attention to anyone but little old me. I think the only reason they were shouting and not shooting was the wand in my hand. Have I mentioned my opinion of ministry personnel, especially aurors?

The Mexican Standoff was not a problem. By now, all of the Sirius Security men were in place around us, rune boxes out. Bystanders had been moved outside the ring.

"You're determined to arrest me on trumped up charges, are you? There's nothing I can do to get you to set this aside and maybe do a little shopping?" So be it. "Smithson, do it."

...oooOOOooo...

"Uh!" I sat up in bed suddenly.

"It's ok, Harry. I just woke you up. The healer said that if you didn't wake up on your own by midnight we should enervate you. I got the duty."

"How long was I out? Never mind, you said midnight. Nine or ten hours, right?" The afternoon came back to me. "Is everyone all right? Natalie and Grammy and your parents got away? And everyone else?"

"Everyone's fine. Your plan worked perfectly. The aurors and the rest were all stunned. Daddy supervised clearing everyone out of the market before they woke up. Dobby insisted on triggering your portkey himself. Daddy says he popped in as soon as you were hit and caught you before you hit the ground. You have a great friend there, Harry." I nodded agreement. I'd have to think of some way to thank Dobby as a friend and not as an employer.

"Harry? Why didn't you tell me you had an escape plan? I was so scared when all of those stunners went off."

"I forgot. We've both been busy. But it wouldn't have mattered. You had to keep Natalie and Grammy away. It wouldn't be safe for either of them to be anywhere near a stunner ring. Nat's a little girl and Grammy is, well, old. Not to mention whatever the aurors might have done. Loose cannons, every one."

Tracey looked at me strangely. "Family is everything, Harry. Everything. I'll do anything to help my family. And you're doing more for my family than I can."

Her thank-you kiss was very welcome. And the downward-drifting hug made me realize something.

"Tracey? Why am I naked?"

"I had to check that you weren't hurt when you fell down. You might have broken something or gotten a bruise."

"You said Dobby caught me before I hit the ground."

"Right. But I had to make sure your clothes weren't too tight. You were hit with a lot of stunners and too many clothes could keep you from breathing."

"You had to take off my pants so I could breathe?" Tracey nodded, but didn't seem too sure of herself. "Are you sure you weren't just catching a cheap peek? Since you were peeking at me, isn't it fair I get to peek at you?"

Tracey didn't nod or say anything, but kissed me tenderly and set aside her wand before slooooowly disrobing. She was even more beautiful than I remembered from a few nights ago.

I reached for the light control.

Fade to black. My private affairs are private.

...oooOOOooo...

My door opened in the morning at a most inconvenient time. We'd gotten a little sleep last night, punctuated by in-depth, interpersonal interactions with each other's naked body. When Dobby and Tracey's parents stared at us from the doorway, we were interacting.

I quickly flipped up a corner of the sheet to hide most of Tracey's girly parts from the doorway. "Dobby," I growled as threateningly as I could manage, "you'd better have a good reason for barging in here. A very good reason. A world-is-coming-to-an-end reason."

"Excuse me, Mister Great Harry Potter Sir, but we was all very worried. We heard thumping and screaming coming from your room all night. Dobby wanted to make sure potentially wicked Racey Davis wasn't attacking the Great Harry Potter Sir. And Harry Potter Sir's Racey's mother wanted to make sure sweet innocent Racey wasn't hurt by the extremely vigorous and potent Great Harry Potter Sir."

Tracey must have been listening even as she maintained her rhythm because she giggled. "Don't worry, Mum. Harry is exactly as vigorous and potent as I want. Now go away!"

As everyone left the doorway I heard Mr Davis moaning, "We'd better not interrupt them in the mornings any more. She didn't even slow down. I want to keep my illusion that my daughter is sweet and innocent. Modest, too."

---

Author's Note: A common comment on Chapter 1 was that the atomic bomb was over the top. Oh, puh-lease. I can't be the only person who, if I had a nuke of my very own, would be wondering not whether to use it, but where to use it. Within the story, I wanted a way to kill almost all of the goblins and render the vaults unavailable or unusable. A biological weapon, a super!Harry magical blast, a nuke, or a deus ex machina device were all that came to mind. Hmm. That might make a good series of drabbles. The Great Goblin Kill-off: plausible methods of extinction.