In Hospital

The staff at St. Mungo's was about as friendly as could be expected, to find themselves faced with a non-verbal witch who was operating on a weird combination of: instincts built for a prostitution themed transfiguration; an animagus transformation that was starving, injured, and comatose; and the original mind of the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange.

Finally they accepted his word, and the word of the slip of paper Amelia gave him, that she was permitted to be treated, and he didn't mind if her room was in the high security wing, because she'd done enough to deserved protective custody, rather than punitive custody.

But they'd barely got her on the examination table and removed the transfiguration, before they had her diagnosed, broken the cursed sleep, stacked together eight potions vials, and told her it was safe for her to revert to human form for treatment.

The attending healer either didn't recognise Bellatrix Lestrange, or had experience working with … well aurors probably, and showed no nerves to find her on the bed.

The potions were administered and her arm visibly started trying to regrow.

"You'll be hungry for several days," said the healer, "eat well, don't be afraid to include tendon and gristle in your diet for as long as you crave them."

Bellatrix nodded.

The healer turned to Harry, "It was a good idea putting her into enchanted sleep to buy time to get her here, but that was the wrong kind of enchanted sleep to use. I'm not even sure who thought they had business teaching it to you."

Harry shook his head, "I found her under it, I expected they were trying to starve her. If I'd thought of it, I'd have used the stasis charm we use for potions."

The healer winced, "Most people cannot cast that large enough to hold an entire person, though perhaps you'd have managed her body as a cat."

Harry nodded, "Would that have worked?"

"If you'd left any of her out of the stasis field, those body-parts would have fallen off after a few minutes, an annoying, possibly expensive mistake to make on a potion, possibly fatal on a living body."

"Oh," said Harry.

"The enchanted sleep spell I'd recommend for first aid and amateur country doctors is this:" so she showed him. And explained that it was considered a curse, because it would feed (very gently) on her magic, instead of his. But it would also let her own magic determine what counted as 'her body' and therefore ought to be under stasis, and as an added bonus, even worked on both halves of an animagi, for those who had spent enough time transformed for that to be a thing.

When she pronounced him competent, he said, "Thank you," and put his wand away.

"Any other questions?" she said.

"How could you heal her cursed wound?"

"It wasn't cursed," she said, "the sleep itself was a curse, but the wound was not a curse, it seemed to have been done mechanically, not sure how or why."

"Ritual arithmancy," said Bella, "had to be what my master valued most, it had to leave me alive."

"But?"

"Most familiars," said Bella, "your magic and mine would have latched onto each other and anchored somewhere central, often stomach, intestines, liver or heart. Where do you think they found the strongest presence of your magic in me?"

"Oh," said Harry.

Bella nodded, "If you'd rescued me early enough and put me under true stasis, or if they hadn't kept me alive, I think my death or going under stasis would have cancelled … at least destabilised the ritual."

"So was part of my depression, not only that I was missing you and grieving that you might be gone forever, but also that he was drawing magic from both of us to live while his body rebuilt itself?"

She nodded.

"Alright," said Harry, "Too bad we couldn't interfere then, but I guess it cannot be helped now?"

She nodded.

"And if my mark is what was sacrificed, is that why it isn't reforming already somewhere else on your body?"

She nodded.

"So I have to give you a new one?"

She shrugged, "I think you won't be able to, I don't think anyone will be able to."

"Do you even want me to try."

"Please try," she said.

He reached out the middle knuckle of his middle finger of his wand hand, and touched her collarbone.

She stared at him.

"My Nim," mine, mine, mine.

"Yes, my lord," she said.

"Do you desire my protection?"

"Yes, my lord," she said.

"Do you willingly sacrifice whatever portion of your autonomy I might require, to buy it?"

The healer hissed anger and drew a wand.

"Ye— I already did that," said Bella, "I don't still have it to sacrifice again."

Harry nodded, "You're still mine?"

She nodded, "I'm already still yours."

"I think I don't understand," said Harry.

She shrugged, "my thrall mark and the protection it granted me was sacrificed, but as long as the dark lord's new body exists, it still exists, it's just not on my new arm, because it's still on my old arm."

"So … now what?" said Harry.

She shrugged, "if you reject me, or withhold your magic, my mark might fade and slightly weaken the dark lord, but that probably is no longer enough to do anything useful against him."

Harry nodded.

"You could mark me any other way, scars or tattoos, in order to grant me the protection that your rune happens to carry. But it won't be a thrall mark."

"But you say my thrall mark is still in effect, binding you to me?"

She smiled, "I believe so, it just doesn't protect me."

"Would you rather a scar, or a tattoo, or my favourite?"

"There is a particular kind of scar I'd like, but I don't have the materials here, may I borrow your favourite until I have time to gather them?"

"Yes," said Harry, and held out his hand.

She held out her right arm, "Take it my lord."

He unfastened her remaining holster, and placed her wand into her hand.

Harry transfigured a strip of the inside into shoe polish.

"With my rune I claim this wand holster," said Harry. It began to draw on his magic to heal itself, through the mark rather than through his fingers, more slowly than a fresher sample would have, but the change was still noticeable. He ran his hand across it, and let it fit itself into his proprioception, from somewhere on the rump of the dragon, a part of rump that Harry's anatomy in fact didn't have, tail perhaps. Mentally he labelled it, Bella's holster, and partitioned it off so it wouldn't try to inform the leftover bits of the spell Susan had used to teach his mind how to mimic the ability to see in the dark.

"With this lend, I offer my protection as often as she wants it, to this witch who has helped me save so many lives."

He held it out.

"Thank you my lord," said Bellatrix and put her wand aside. She took the holster and visibly contemplated where to fasten it, before finally holding it against her right shin, "Help me my lord?"

Harry fastened it.

She picked up her wand and sheathed it, then stood up.

.

Harry turned to the Healer.

"Who are you?" she said.

"I'm Harry Potter," said Harry Potter, "This is my familiar, Bellatrix, who used to be Lestrange."

"But?"

"She is inheritance from my mother's conquest, that Dumbledore did not manage to block me from receiving until my seventeenth birthday."

She blinked, "are you saying that you have blood feud with the dark lord?"

Harry sighed, "Not by choice."

"And he's back?"

"I've heard rumours to that effect," said Harry, "From the memories of my familiar, and the report of the woman who brought her back to me. Not that she was old enough for me to trust her ability to recognise."

Bella cackled.

The healer gave a put upon sigh.

"Someone is around that needed a ritual to bind them into their body," said Harry, "I'd rather believe that it is you-know-who, than that there is an additional dark lord or lady around with a reputation, and apparently capability for dabbling with that sort of thing."

"Ah!" said the healer, "an intriguing point."

"Um?" said Bella, "Not to interrupt, but, how long should this take to finish healing?"

Everything but bone by tomorrow, then take the skelegrow, I'd wait two days after that before trying to rebuild your strength.

"Will spending time in cat form, slow the process?" said Harry.

"Might speed it up slightly, probably not, won't slow it down too much."

"Alright," said Harry, "Thank you."

"You're going to carry me, until I have the strength to balance on my own again?"

"Yes," said Harry.

Bella nodded, and transformed.

Harry pocketed the doses of skelegrow, (that Bella would almost certainly want to take early), and itch reducer, (that he was fairly sure Bella would not take).

He picked up Bella and let her dictate how he held her. Then carried her to the lobby and floo'd to the Tonks' just long enough to change out of conjured clothes into real clothes.

Then he thought things through and changed again, so that he had a more secure way to carry Nim.

Then they went to Hanna's party.

...-...

The Regent

Content warning: Sex, negotiating contractual obligations regarding sex with a minor

Amelia checked the time, it was just past one, the children next door would just be finishing up dessert, and moving on to presents, so as to have something entertaining to do that wouldn't require too much movement while their food settled.

So why had one left the floo and begun wandering aimlessly. First to the kitchen then out and around the house and back in again. And now coming up stairs, almost as if to find her.

"Hello Harry," said Amelia, "take the wrong floo connection?"

"No," sighed Harry, "I'm feeling some weird combination of disillusioned and … I don't know … defiled?"

"I wondered what you meant about letting you-know-who pet your back. Come in and sit down."

He obeyed, but didn't speak. Amelia let him keep his silence. She finished the report she was on and put it aside. And pushed the rest of the stack away. The point of reading reports was either to understand them, or to understand what was in them so she could reference them later. And she'd do neither thing well if she multi-tasked that with giving talk therapy. She turned her chair to face the armchair Harry had chosen. She'd gotten that chair specifically to put huge Scottish farmhands at ease, and it did an excellent job at that. It also made Harry look small. But she knew that was an illusion, and he seemed comfortable. Which she doubted was an illusion, she'd slept in that chair by accident on more than one occasion.

"Sorry, don't mean to intrude."

"Don't be, I just told you, 'come in and sit down,' so? tell me all about it."

"About which?"

"You-know-who petting your back?"

"Oh, that was just playing the part of not identifying him as dangerously different than the Flitwick replacement I made up for her to be in an alternate reality."

"You made the dark lord a female professor?"

Harry smirked and shrugged.

"Why?"

"The professor part was easy, at one point he wanted to teach there. The 'taught long enough to become head of house' was mere flattery beyond that."

"Sure."

"Trainee Tonks gave me the idea, because she hates her birth name, just … I think for a different reason than he hates his."

"Ah," she said.

Harry shrugged.

"So nothing untoward happened?"

Harry shrugged, "there was lots of talk, most of it bullcrap from my end, I don't know if my critique of his politics made it through given that the pearls were embedded in crap. But he did let me talk, and he listened, perhaps he heard, perhaps it will backfire when he understands what the rest of it was."

Amelia nodded, "So what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see for myself how much was still standing."

"Most of it, there was no resistance except from the wards, and none of them went full active. They were impatient by the time they got in, but they weren't imbued with the anger of fresh deaths to avenge."

"Oh," said Harry.

"Are you sure you're not here for talk therapy from being raped? Or not being able to protect your friends?"

"Nim was the friend I could not protect," said Harry. "No one was raped, though … we did spend most of the night pretending to be too feral to know what clothes were."

"How much did you have on?"

"Just leather shirts, pretended they were shifts, pretended we'd never seen mages before last week, or not in this lifetime at least. Talked pretend twin speech to each other, took advantage of Luna being under notice-me-not and able to give acting strategy advice that was not noticeable to our audience."

"Ah."

"And none of that was what made you feel 'defiled' and 'disillusioned'?"

Harry shook his head, "I've been grieving for Nim, Sirius gave me a tiny book on grief. Sure, I recognised parts of it, but I didn't believe that's what I was doing, because I thought I knew that she wasn't dead… I … I was negotiating a deal with Greyback for him to heal her or have her healed, before Nim caught my attention and told me 'no'."

Amelia nodded, "In exchange for what?"

"Being his concubine for three months, with one pregnancy implied."

Amelia nodded, "standard clauses for what would happen to the child?"

Harry nodded, "Including his right to wolf the poor dear."

Amelia winced, "Believable, given his reputation," She sighed.

They were silent. When Amelia decided Harry had enough time to be silent she probed again, "and you're trying to see how to forgive yourself for negotiating such a deal, even if perhaps your only goal was the catharsis of letting your grief express itself in terms of what you'd sacrifice to have your friend back?"

Harry nodded, "That was part of it, maybe most of it. And a bit was keeping everyone talking about what I wanted, not about what they wanted."

"And the rest of it?"

Harry squished himself back in the chair and struggled to put anything into words, finally he said, "I looked in his eyes, and I didn't see a monster. I saw a wizard, unlucky and shunned, shunned even a bit more than Professor Snape, and that he saw me a soft, weak, lucky, but defiant, and hungry enough to be worth training to be strong and dangerous. And in him I saw … I saw myself. Not myself as I am, but a man motivated by … the same desires, except … they drive him to prey on the hopelessly weak, and train and torture the somewhat less weak into more … monsters to do the same, whereas those inclinations inform me about the ideal of helping others become willing and able to defend themselves and others."

Harry sighed and looked away.

Amelia nodded several times, then sighed, "You're not the same boy I interviewed after the third task."

"No," agreed Harry, "I'm not."

"How old are you?"

"I turned fifteen on the 31st."

"By the calender," said Amelia, "How old are you really?"

Harry gave her an odd look, calculating and … perhaps pitying, "My IQ is not far enough from average for that to multiply to an interesting fraction, even if anyone still believed that interpretation of what IQ measures."

Amelia shook her head.

"Because the two other contexts I can imagine for your question to make sense, is if I had access to time travel, or you believed the stories that we made up to keep you-know-who's interest."

"I'm under the impression that some of those stories were extremely well crafted, at least for the goal of provoking your intended audience to think and re-think his goals and methods."

Harry nodded, "we did our best."

"Susan said she did her best until she saw you-know-who, and then she held back with Luna."

"And offered me strategic and legal advice," said Harry.

"Good," said Amelia, "So you didn't feel abandoned?"

"No," said Harry, "I felt … I had three friends to protect, and who were helping me think through my lines before I said them."

"Two vassals and Susan?"

Harry nodded.

"You felt defiled by the deal you offered Greyback?"

He nodded.

"What made you feel disillusioned?"

Harry shrugged and sat back, "A lot of my life is mundane, which is mostly normal I guess, and even Hogwarts, now that I'm used to it is … routine, even if I'm always pushing to learn and revise for the test, not the test at the end of the year, but the test that is the moment when I must face you-know-who again. Or whatever other way life presents a method by which I must either rise to the occasion and save as many lives as I can, or fail."

He shrugged, "Only this time, life gave me a quintuple dose with the third task, and then you-know-who's minion trying to sacrifice me, and capturing Nim for his troubles, and then Nim alerting me that she had been part way sacrificed to help you-know-who's resurrection, and she probably wouldn't be waking up very often anymore," Harry sighed, "and then helping a friend train a veela to cooperate, which apparently is much more significant than I ever would have guessed, and then defending myself from a dementor attack, and then being party to a conspiracy to block ministry corruption, this time at least. And then rescuing Nim. And the weirdness of … facing you-know-who while not alone, and the desire to keep it non-violent long enough to get away, at the same time as, I think, the first time I'd faced him while he wasn't operating under a tight deadline and liable to get impatient at a moment's notice."

Harry sighed and shrugged, "How do I go back to just summer homework after that, or birthday parties."

Amelia sat forward, "I have several things to say to that, perhaps none of them are important by themselves."

Harry nodded.

"First, I counted six traumatic events, not five."

"It's not about if they're traumatic, it's that they were worth it because they were significant."

Amelia nodded, "Fine, second, you might be describing a condition called combat stress reaction, Aurors get it all the time, we give them a day off, a day to get their paperwork in order, then they're ready to get back to fieldwork."

"NO!" said Harry, "I know that, I get that, that happens too. You and Moody helped me through that after the dementors, and I appreciate that. That's not what I'm trying to describe." Harry sighed, "err. Sorry for shouting."

"Forgiven," said Amelia, "try describing again."

"The problem isn't the stress, I mean, that is a problem, but I'm used to that problem, I'm kind of fine taking the day off today, especially if I can space out the intensity of my birthday party experiences with short walks in the herb gardens, I'm talking about … I'm complaining about that I have no work to get back to tomorrow. I have no safe and secure fix for my significance addiction, and without something meaningful to be doing tomorrow, it feels … feels like I don't deserve to be taking the day off today."

He sighed, "am I even making sense?"

"Yes," said Amelia, "Very much so. Aurors call it 'desk duty jitters'."

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at her.

"Optimal treatment?"

"For professional aurors," said Amelia, "finish their paperwork, and complete their healing regimen, or legal re-training, or whatever it was that got them put on desk duty."

Harry grimaced and looked down.

"For hit-wizards," said Amelia, "we have an exercise regimen and range time."

Harry nodded.

"You might be able to convince yourself to take summer homework seriously, as an important part of your age appropriate training regimen."

Harry wrinkled his nose, but nodded.

"And the whole DMLE shares one cafeteria between them."

Harry nodded.

"Do you know why?"

"Camaraderie," said Harry, "So you can overhear what the rest of the team is working on, even if your own duties aren't making you feel fulfilled right at the moment?"

Amelia nodded, "That's half of it, the other half is a bit more subtle."

He perked up, "What?"

"You talked about the significance of saving lives."

"And/or making lives better and safer," said Harry.

"Right," said Amelia, "If we do our jobs properly, the most significant dangers anyone will have to face, is starving because they didn't get up and go to work, or getting sick because they didn't keep clean."

"Hmm," said Harry.

"Those are the average lives, the lives we're trying to save and protect. Those are the goodness we are trying to achieve, and if you happen to also manage just a bit of that rest for yourself, it does not mean you are a failure, it means you are a success."

Harry sighed, and the tendons relaxed all down one side of his neck through his wand arm to where his slightly clawed hand had been picking at the dying velvet on the arm of the chair.

"Rest is the significance I'm trying to achieve?" said Harry.

"Some draw their circle of what they need to protect around their own soul, and walk through life in utter peace," said Amelia, "The stoics in theory are one such group, and claim not to mind starving to death, as long as the things they call virtues are not disturbed. Some draw it around their body, and have the rewards and risks associated with the greater range of experiences to look forward too or shy away from. You and I draw our circle as wide as law and magic will let us. In return we have that much more work to do and risk to take to protect what is ours, but that much more significance to claim as our doing, when we succeed. And yes, rest is the significance we are trying to achieve, rest for ourselves when our work is done, and especially the knowledge that others we care about are resting secure."

Harry nodded, "I hear and believe what you're saying, I just don't know how to … convince myself that now is an appropriate time to rest, or that … rest is even significant, or that …"

Amelia nodded.

Harry closed his mouth and leaned back, tried to relax.

"There's several strategies, 'mental exercises' if you will," said Amelia, "One is to imagine that all your enemies are defeated, (death is classic, but imprisoned, or declawed with the judicious use of oaths are also common.) If you woke up next year and climbed out of your hospital bed and went home, with the full knowledge that there were no more dark lords in England and/or whatever portion of Europe you care about, what would you do with your life?"

Harry shrugged, "explore Potter estate?"

Amelia nodded, "and make preparations for it to be cultivated once again?"

Harry's eyes popped open, "I don't even know what kind of estate it is."

Amelia nodded, "vineyards, if I remember my history correctly."

Harry rolled his shoulders and tilted his head to one side as if listening to something. Then nodded, "It did seem to be in that part of England."

"Have you been apparating without a license?" said Amelia.

Harry shook his head, "once, forty meters, accidental magic, before Hogwarts. But often just after side-along apparition or portkey travel, and sometimes remembering back to just before, I have a," he shrugged, "sense of location."

Amelia nodded, "good, you're roughly a year early developing that. There's good reason we don't try to teach apparition before the super-majority of students will have the readiness for it. (And you haven't yet described enough precision to apparate by)"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Harry.

She continued to glare at him for a second, to make sure her point was made, then relaxed and sat back.

"How was this mental exercise supposed to go?" said Harry.

"After you've imagined what life might be like if you win, what you'd do with the rest of your life after winning. You backtrack and imagine what you can do now to prepare for those activities. As a set of possible topics to study or skills to build in between preparing for your next battle."

"I don't especially care about grapes," said Harry, "not that I've tried to learn."

"But you do care about food, and clothes," said Amelia.

"Yes," said Harry.

"And feeding and clothing your friends," said Amelia.

"Yes," said Harry.

"So," said Amelia, "Sometimes when you have a day off, and additional defence drills or studying ahead on defensive magical theory don't make the right kind of emotional sense, you should go wander the nearest available herb garden."

Harry frowned.

"Not only as an exercise in observing beauty, either natural or cultivated, but also for inspiration toward the herb garden you would like to grow, when time and circumstances permit."

Harry relaxed again and closed his eyes.

A few seconds later his magic unblocked and balanced.

Thank Merlin.

A few seconds more and he smiled, and he sat up straighter.

"Was there another exercise," he said, "that you wanted to teach me, before I go out and try this one?"

"I just wanted to point out similar exercises to gathering inspirations for gardens to feed your friends, are gathering inspirations toward wards projects to protect your friends, and gathering inspirations toward sewing projects to clothe and protect your friends."

His eyes popped open and he looked at her.

Really looked.

Was he checking whether he could detect what enchantments she was wearing, or was he checking out what clothes she was wearing, or was he finally checking out Amelia Bones.

"Are you tracking with me Harry?"

"Yes," he said and looked away.

"What's the problem?"

"I … try not to look at clothes while they're being worn, unless invited to," he said.

"Because you were reprimanded for looking at women when you were trying to look at clothes?"

"Men actually I think," said Harry, "But yes, It's … more comfortable to wander clothes stores, rather than crowds, when wishing to browse for inspiration."

"I see," said Amelia, "Are you homosexual?"

"I'm not male enough to be homosexual," said Harry, "I'm equally comfortable as Leona or my animagus form. I am myself, and I can wear whichever body is appropriate to my task and mood and the requirements of the labour or magic I must perform."

"Your animagus form can perform magic?"

Harry grimaced, "Not sure if it's magic or a difference of instinct and sensory perception, but yes, different kinds of tracking and alertness, and sense of direction."

"Alright."

"Both human forms undoubtedly tend straight."

"Straight?"

"Muggle term for not homosexual."

"Ah," said Amelia, "I'd forgotten that they cared enough to need a word for that."

"Huh?"

"Mage culture, at least in this part of the world, doesn't care what your preferences are, heads of houses are still expected to produce or adopt an heir, not so many generations ago, the expectation was 'an heir and a spare.'"

Harry understood well enough to wince. Good.

"Some houses are big enough that a head might name both from within the house, and go on their merry way without reproducing. Yours is not," Amelia shrugged, "Just thought I'd ask."

"Why?"

She stared at him, where to begin?

"You tend to come to me for legal advice," she said, "(usually a bit later than you should, I must say.) I thought I'd prepare myself for the types of clauses that you might be wanting in marriage contracts, in the eventuality that you asked me to review something for you."

Harry sat up and stared at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I think that was an extremely incomplete truth, what else should I know?"

She shook her head, "I'd really rather not get into it before you're courting age."

He shrugged and leaned back, "So much for asking for advice before I need it rather than when I need it."

She glared at him.

"If you're 'straight' enough that reproducing does not inconvenience you emotionally?" she said.

"No, it does not," said Harry, "I just … haven't ever felt like I had enough family, I've been warned that if I want to not scare away potential wives, I either need to temper my desires, or adopt, or narrow my selection to Weasleys, Prewetts, and Blacks."

Amelia winced, "To ex-Irish in other words." Whoever had been advising you seems to have neglected mentioning both that Irish muggleborns as a group might be worth investigating, and that all the races of the British archipelago have been mixing since boats had been invented.

Harry shrugged, "don't know enough family history to guess that."

"How seriously are you taking that advice?"

Harry shrugged, "I … sense that you have additional advice."

"Definitely," said Amelia.

"What?"

"You're a very powerful wizard Harry."

Harry's eyebrows went up.

"And you have a title."

Harry shrugged.

"Which means nothing by itself, but it heavily implies that past generations recognised your lineage as deserving."

Harry shrugged.

"But it means that houses that adhere to certain traditions, or pretend to adhere to them, will have more leeway to pass off certain decisions if they can convince you to go along with them."

Harry nodded.

"You're also famous," said Amelia.

Harry winced.

"Which also does not mean anything by itself, but it predicts that witches and their families are more likely to notice you, and those other two things."

Harry nodded.

"Do you see where this is going?"

"Not entirely," said Harry.

Amelia crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

He stared at her, then narrowed his eyes, "Is this one of those times that I have to say something formulaic, so that you can respond with the correct advice, or more likely the foundational knowledge so that I'll understand that advice?"

"Yes," said Amelia.

Harry closed his eyes, his lips worked silently for several seconds, then he opened his eyes, shrugged helplessly and said, "'may I have permission to court your daughter?' I mean 'niece'?"

Amelia let her breath wuff out.

"No, yes," she shrugged, "Yes, that is a sufficient opening. And the formulaic response might go something like this," she opened a drawer and pulled out a contract, "if you did manage to win her favour, this or a contract like this, is the best you can hope to achieve, do you still wish to pursue her?"

Harry raised one eyebrow and frowned with the rest of his face, and took the parchment and read it through. Muttering here and there. The only comment she could catch was that he wished to take notes.

"No," he said when he reached the end, "This does not scare me, I'd rather the disposition of children implied I was at least permitted an uncle's level of visiting and holiday spoiling, and all that."

"Is that all?"said Amelia.

"I'd also like to be consulted regarding and in case of financial needs related to medical care and tuition, perhaps costs for ward upgrades and repairs."

Amelia nodded, "I should not have expected any less from you, I'll have those changes made up."

Harry smiled a little, then stiffened and he sat up straight, then poured over the contract again, after two paragraphs he sat up again to look at her.

"What?"

"May I mark this up?"

"With changes you'd wish to see in it?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you may."

She slid an inkpot and quill towards him. He moved the contract to the desk and came to stand over it.

He made some minor changes, crossed out a few clauses that were too strong and either wrote in what he'd like instead, or notes on how to construct what he'd like instead. In some cases Amelia already knew the standard verbiage for such clauses.

He added an entire paragraph in one margin about wanting dibs on it being his manor that was the stronghold to which his children (in everything except family name) would be trained to escape to in cases of fire, weather, wild animals, or criminal attack from without, or domestic violence from within, either from family or guests or hired hands.

Finally he reached the end and put the pen down, "Something like that," he said and pushed the contract away.

"This contract," said Amelia, "Turns the standard order of things on its head."

Harry shrugged, "I tend to do that. What specifically have I done this time?"

"Normally," she said, "There are several families making up the political unit of one House."

Harry nodded.

"And political alliances between several houses, for reasons of economics or common legislative interests.

"However, This instrument," said Amelia, "implies a family made up of several houses."

"When our Houses are as small as they are," said Harry, "why not?"

"Your house is small," said Amelia, "Mine is not. My family is newly the smallest family of the House, but I don't expect that to remain true. If…"

"If Susan has monthly access to breeding rights with me?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow, and pointed to the third paragraph.

Harry read it, looked at her, looked into space, read it again, paged to the end and compared the titles above each signature line to the third paragraph.

"Sneaky!" he enthused, then he threw himself back into the arm chair and leaned back and covered his eyes.

"It can be changed," said Amelia.

"You wrote it as is?"

"I did."

"When?"

"Most of it I had in mind as the default way to deal with the necessary, when the heir of the House and Family is female. That particular adjustment I crafted when little birds started telling me who my niece and her best friends were hanging out with. I only added it to a full copy of this contract later."

"When?"

"After I watched your performance in second task."

Harry groaned, "That wasn't me."

"But it was you who killed two dementors, to save your overweight muggle cousin?"

"A lot more of that is muscle than he lets on," said Harry.

"But it was you?"

"Yes."

"And so … am I wrong to want it the way I've written it?"

Harry shuddered, "Genetically, no, probably not." He sighed, "But are you sure you don't want to change it slightly to include access to Sirius?"

"Hell no," said Amelia, "He's powerful and deliciously dangerous, he's also painfully torn up about being temperamentally dark, and restricting himself to light alignment."

"What is your alignment?"

Now that was a question that could bog us down for hours. "I prefer blue, but mainly only have reason to practice red."

"Fine," said Harry.

"Am I so hard on the eyes, Harry?"

"No," said Harry and put his hands down.

He looked at her, again, for real this time, and this time he didn't shy away as he noticed what he was doing.

"Do you want that paragraph changed?"

"I don't mind it," said Harry, "But I would leave it up to Susan."

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

"Is there anything else you'd want changed, if that part stays as is?"

"Not that I can think of," said Harry, "Is there anything that you'd change now that you know I'm not afraid of whatever that marriage style is called?"

"It's called a breeding contract," said Amelia.

"Is it standard?"

"Parts of it are, parts of it are not," said Amelia, "what in particular are you asking about?"

"There are implications here and there of … a bigger family available to care for the children. Maybe I've missed some nuance because I'm conflating House and Family, and don't differentiate them properly in my head."

"Possibly."

"Is …"

"This is an indefinite breeding contract," said Amelia, "a more normal form would be for a specific number of children, or a specific number of pregnancies, sometimes instead of all the children going to the mother's house, they alternate between mother's house and father's house."

Harry nodded, "How common might it be to have a formal termination clause, where she could go off and get married according to her druthers, after she did her duty by her family to produce 'an heir and a spare' or whatever?"

"Not uncommon," said Amelia, "Depending on the family situation, and the economics of why the family preferred to keep her, or her children at home."

"And would it be … normal for me to have an out, if perhaps I was courting another witch who was offended by the indefinite nature of her right to monthly breeding access?"

"Depends," said Amelia, "Why? Do you have a specific reason for asking?"

Harry shrugged, "I imagine Luna might like a contract very similar to that one, some of my other friends, not so much."

"What would you like?" said Amelia.

"Maybe it's not a question of letter of the contract, more of just implication and practical aspects of how the letter of the contract were to be implemented," said Harry, "But I'm imagining five years from now, having a nominal wife, one who wants my name, not just my genetics, and me trying to keep track of which witch is going to visit for the evening to demand concubine duties from me. Compared to, receiving an owl that 'Yes, I do want you to visit this month. Is the 22nd through the 24th ideal?' or whatever. And I pack up my bag and my post-dementor candy, and what not. Kiss my heirs, and floo off to shower my other children with affection, or candy, or attention, or tutoring, or talk therapy, according to their current wants or needs, for an evening and a day, and two nights for Susan or you or Luna."

"Yes," said Amelia, "Yes, I see."

Harry shivered.

"What?"

"That expression," said Harry, "I don't know it."

"Do you like it?"

"I don't know," said Harry, "seemed … seemed positive, but made me feel shivery and hollow the way … the first time, or rather, the third time Hermione hugged me."

Amelia nodded, "Realise you've been missing something?"

Harry nodded.

"That was approval of you for wanting to care for your family."

"That was the predator face for 'I'm looking at something cute', but for something other that cuteness?"

"Yes," said Amelia.

Harry sighed, "Then I'm even more disturbed that I've never seen it before, even if it's natural that it wasn't aimed at me before."

Amelia nodded.

"What do you want Amelia?"

That's the first time he's called me by my first name.

"I already told … heavily implied wanting you to be the father of my children?"

"Yes, you did, and only because of my magical power?"

"Originally, yes."

"And not my fame?"

"Correct."

"But now, I mean besides my magic?"

"First because I appreciate your personality and hope it breeds true, second because I think you'd make a great dad."

Harry frowned, looked about ready to cry, then looked away, "And … what do you want besides me for breeding rights?"

Amelia looked away before she was tempted to not wait for a contract.

"I want to make a clean copy of this so it will be ready whenever Susan is ready to discuss this."

Harry nodded.

It was a good excuse to take a break from looking at him.

It was a good mechanical task to absorb both the physical detail and legal abstraction part of her mind, and let her emotions wander free for a few minutes.

"Susan might be ready sooner than you think," said Harry, "She often surprises me."

"All the more reason to have it ready."

Harry shrugged.

.

"You know this isn't normally how first courtship meetings go?" said Amelia, "Negotiating marriage contracts or breeding contracts."

"I don't know why not," said Harry.

Amelia snickered.

"I mean, if everyone knows what they want, and can state it clearly, negotiations should take next to no time at all."

"Because everyone wanting more, and wanting to give up less, than everyone else, Can make things complex."

"I suppose," said Harry.

.

"Another thing I want," whispered Amelia.

"What?" said Harry.

"Did I say that out loud," said Amelia.

"Yes," said Harry, "What else do you want?"

Amelia sat up from her copying and stared at him.

"You've said you don't mind me being included in a contract for Susan to have breed rights with you. You haven't said whether you want me there."

Harry sighed, and leaned back, "It's … if feels very weird, from … being muggle-raised I guess. You're not her Mom, just her Aunt. The age difference is weird, but … as old as mages live, I think it's a lot less weird in practice than it seemed at first."

"And again you say, that you don't mind," said Amelia.

Harry huffed, "I respect you, I like the way you run your department of the ministry, I hear awed rumours about your power, and I can never quite differentiate whether they mean political power or magical power."

Amelia blinked, "You really don't know?"

Harry shrugged, "Malfoy means money, Black means dark arts, Dumbledore means magical power and an implication of heroism, Bones means power but … well they all mean alliances and intrigue, that's just the way the Wizengamot functions, but …"

Amelia pushed out from her desk and cupped her left hand upside down, "Harry, let me show you something."

She put herself in the correct frame of mind, and placed the tip of her wand inside her cupped hand and whispered, 'horribilis ignis'

She put her wand away, and changed how her hands were cupped so the flaming mouse ran upward into the palm of her other hand.

She loosened her control slightly and it blossomed into a rabbit and again ran upward, she caught it and brought it down again.

"What am I looking at?" said Harry.

"What do you see?"

"Flame and an animated image, perhaps mild sentience," said Harry, "intense heat. Except your hands are enough closer than I am that I distrust the heat isn't also an illusion."

Amelia nodded, the fire tried to blossom into a badger and she caught it and snuffed it out.

"Red variation of the patronus?" said Harry.

"I cast it with red alignment," agreed Amelia, "That was fiendfyre."

"You cast fiendfyre inside your own wards," said Harry.

Amelia raised an eyebrow, "My wards have been proof against the curse since before the secret of casting the fyre was released."

Harry shivered, "And were they helping you control it, or was that all on your own?"

"That was all on my own," said Amelia, "and the second half of that demonstration, though you seem disinclined to ask for it, Expecto Patronum."

Harry stood up, almost as if in salute, to see her shepherd taking a turn about the room, inspecting everything, and then standing by her side at attention.

"One of the most feared dark curses cast red, and one of the most iconic white charms cast blue?"

So he knew much more about colour alignment than she'd expected.

Amelia nodded.

"Speaking of your wards," said Harry, "How much do you trust that they weren't tampered with while the death eaters were here?"

That was a rather intimate bit of paranoia on his part.

"It is politically expedient at the moment not to admit that they were death eaters," said Amelia, "and very, I inspected them thoroughly before I opened the floo connection, I wouldn't have given Susan permission to sleep in her own room tonight if I had any doubts."

"Alright," said Harry. But he looked suspicious. As well he should.

"Yes," said Amelia, "The entire thing was a trap, I'm sorry that interference with the floo network negated my preparations, I am extremely annoyed at myself for not remembering the trap I'd laid, the one evening when there was more bait than myself in it. I'd be intrigued to learn how word of any of that leaked anywhere. Mostly I am very thankful that you and Luna could work together with Susan to ensure that the three of you survived."

Harry swallowed and sat down again.

"What were we talking about?"

"You were complimenting me," said Amelia, "In an attempt to communicate whether you want me in this contract, or merely don't mind."

Harry shrugged.

"I like you," said Harry, "I just …" he shrugged.

"Sounds like merely don't mind," said Amelia.

Harry frowned, "If I cannot convince you, are you going to take yourself out?"

"Perhaps?"

"And not merely take yourself out of paragraph three and add yourself in some where else?"

"I pride myself in being a more honest negotiator than that," she said.

Harry shrugged, "Not slytherin enough to say, 'I deserve what I get for not catching it, wherever you happen to put it'?"

"No," said Amelia, "more like, if you aren't enthusiastic about it, I might merely wait until you're eighteen, to offer you a second, separate contract."

"Old enough for muggles in some countries to admit I'd be mature enough to decide for myself about consenting to prostitution?"

"That's one way of looking at it," said Amelia.

Harry nodded. Then he smiled, "I'll tell you something I told Fleur Delacour, and Susan."

"What's that?"

"I like equality with my friends, allies, and sex partners."

"Hmm?" said Amelia.

"It gives us all mutual confidence that we can say 'no' when we mean 'no' and given trusting you to say 'no' comes the confidence to reach out and take what I want, and assurance that you'll be reaching out to take what you want, without worrying that we might unknowingly hurt or offend, because we trust each other to force or call for a stop before we go too far."

"Good," said Amelia.

"I … think there's another level of equality beyond what I've experienced, but you and Fleur are the only times I've had the sense that it could exist."

"And what might that be?"

"Equality in magic and fame," said Harry, "Such that … not only could you tell me 'no' but you have both the magic, and the political clout to make it stick if I were foolish enough or cruel enough to push beyond what you meant to offer or permit."

Amelia put down her pen and rested her chin on her fist.

"What?"

"Trust issues," she said, "you have them, and you … wish you didn't, and you allow for, perhaps expect everyone else to have them also."

"Um?" said Harry.

"Are you aware that there are some people who have a preference for experiencing sex while tied up?"

"Nim mentioned that, but implied she would not teach me anything about it until I was 'older' which I took to mean at least twenty, or if I was offered lessons about that by someone else who she trusted less than she trusted herself."

"Ah," said Amelia, That was not a connection I am particularly happy about. "And where is Bellatrix right now?"

His eyes closed for a fraction of a second, "Guarding Luna, Ginny, Laura, and Eleanor."

"Oh."

"Also the melon pile," smirked Harry.

"Of course," said Amelia.

"She was trying to also guard the Pluot orchard earlier, but gave that up for just sticking close enough to hear if someone falls out of a tree."

Amelia smirked back, "She really has nothing to fear, they're country children, have been climbing for years."

"Some of them are," agreed Harry, "but she doesn't know all of them, and neither do I. Also accidents are more likely when there is more company to distract one from checking one's handholds."

Amelia nodded, "That's a fair point."

He hummed and relaxed, and closed his eyes again.

A fond kind of smile and a regretful sort of frown warred for possession of his face.

"You have permission to speak freely," said Amelia.

"I need to apologise to Sirius for suspecting the worst when he dumped me at Aunt Andromeda's house."

"How so?"

"I … think," sighed Harry, "I don't even know how to say this, and I hope it's not offensive, but … I like how … there's an attitude I see in Susan and Hanna here and at Hanna's. And Luna and the Weasleys, when they are at home."

"That they feel at home?"

"Not that … they and their magic and the land's magic … braid together, I want to call it native-ness."

"Ah," said Amelia.

"Perhaps I'm gaining it, a little, about the neighbourhood that I grew up in, but that isn't farm land, and it doesn't have much in the way of wild space, or even just natural space."

"What does that have to do with Sirius."

"I want to say, until I get my own family manor under my own control and fixed up, or buy a new one for that matter, I'd rather all my children grow up here, actually."

"Marriages have been arranged for significantly less wholesome causes," said Amelia. Putting the finishing touches on the last paragraph, and starting on the signature blocks.

Harry shrugged.

"Because I can write that contract," said Amelia, "but it would be three times longer and involve the dissolving of House of Potter and the induction of the Potter Family into the House of Bones

"I think I don't want that," said Harry, "I just … I want a lot … I just want access to advice about how to run a farm and an estate and a house and a family so that perhaps my children who are not strongly of any house get sorted hufflepuff by default instead of gryffindor."

Oh, was that, what he was on about?

Amelia pushed her quill and inkpot away and wiped her hands clean, then turned to face Harry.

He was still leaned back with his eyes closed.

She got up and went to him.

He opened his eyes in time to see her, but he did not dodge when she lowered her mouth to his.

His lips stiffened at her touch, but opened for her, not drew away. And he tried gently to sit up.

That seemed like permission and she redoubled her efforts to devour him.

After a minute she had to stop for air.

"What?" breathed Harry.

"Yes!" said Amelia.

"Yes, to what?" said Harry.

"Did you or did you not just ask me to be the surrogate grandmother of all your children? Or whatever portion of them you get to dictate that about?"

"And you said 'yes'?" breathed Harry.

Amelia nodded.

Harry's mouth tentatively formed a smile, and then his eyes closed and the tears ran out.

Oh dear. What did

His eyes blinked open for half a second and he sat forward and grabbed her around the waist and pulled, then lifted her into the chair on top of himself. He was still too tiny. But he was strong.

And apparently he wants to kiss some more.

.

The moment ended too soon when the wards pinged, not merely that "someone who seemed like Susan" was in the house, but that her intent was 'searching for someone.'

Amelia sprang up and adjusted her robes.

Harry looked at her like she was being odd.

"Susan's coming."

"I know," he said.

"Oh," said Amelia.

Leona entered.

The tan on her left arm was marred by the outline of Susan's holster. That was an interesting effect, must have something to do with dragon hide mucking with the transfiguration charm.

"Harry," she said, "where did you go?"

"Needed to talk with your Aunt."

So he did know that it was Susan.

"About what this time?" she said, climbing into his lap and playing with his buttons.

"The contract on the desk," said Harry.

"Anything interesting?" said Leona-Susan.

"Indefinite breed contract," said Harry.

Leona paused, "Do I need to sign it? … before I unbutton anything?"

"Not before reading it!" said Amelia. Damn it all, Susan.

"Who wrote it," she said.

"I and Amelia have negotiated about it," said Harry, "But even I haven't read the new copy."

"That's ok," said Susan moving toward the desk, "I trust you both, where do I sign."

"Leona, Susan, STOP!" said Harry.

Susan stopped again.

"You might trust me," said Harry, "but I have enough experience to not trust that form, I'm not having sex with you while you're wearing it, until and unless you take it off for at least half an hour, and then we negotiate exactly how far you're willing to go before you put it on again."

Susan blinked, then drew back from him.

They stared at each other, fear and astonishment playing against desire to be understood.

"And I never taught you how to cast it," said Harry, "How did you learn?"

Susan shrugged, "I spent the night under a transfigurations spell and you think I wouldn't observe how it goes?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "did you cast it wandless?"

"Not yet, but that was going to be my next experiment."

"Fine," said Harry

"Do you want to see what my first experiment was?"

"Sure," said Harry.

"Try to take it off me."

Harry angled his elbow toward her and said, "Finite."

Nothing happened.

He drew his wand and tried again.

"Interesting," he said, "What did you do?"

"Added a locking combination clause," she said, "Safer to wear a disguise in public, if you don't have to worry about random finishing spells taking it off you."

"Good idea," said Harry, "You'll have to teach that to me, eventually."

"Not right now?"

"No."

"Alright," she said, leaning close and putting her head on his shoulder, "What do you want me to be doing right now?"

"I want you to take it off," said Harry, "and I want you to go over the contract for anything you'd like to change, or think that we'd like to change if we were smart enough to think of it. And I want you to come back when you're sober to discuss those changes."

"I'm not drunk."

"No," said Harry, "but you are suffering from oestrogen poisoning, because whoever invented that spell was crazy, and probably a rapist."

"Or just liked to have fun," said Susan.

"Perhaps," said Harry.

Susan sighed, and ended the Leona disguise. "What are you going to be doing while I read a contract?"

"I was contemplating shagging your aunt," said Harry, "Unless you absolutely forbid it."

"Why would I?" said Susan.

Harry gave her a look, "Is that your final answer?"

"No," frowned Susan, "my answer is … why her and not me?"

"First of all, because she asked for it, while she was sober."

Susan nodded.

Harry frowned, "I think … that was all."

"Do you want to?" said Susan, "Or is it because the contract says you have to?"

"The contract says I have to," said Harry, "But I haven't signed the contract yet, so you can rest assured that it's because I want to."

"This contract seems more interesting than I thought," said Susan, and took Amelia's chair to begin reading.

Harry looked at Amelia, she was more able to interpret his expression of … well it wasn't lust, as she knew it, but it was some form of desire and invitation.

She raised her eyebrows. He raised his and opened his arms. A welcome back onto the chair.

Then he flicked his eyes sideways onto the bed.

Amelia shrugged and pointed at Susan's back.

Harry shrugged.

Surely he knew there were more houses on the estate, and more rooms and beds in the house.

"You have permission to speak freely," said Harry.

Amelia snorted, "Do you want me to send her somewhere else to study?"

He shrugged.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"Why would I?" he said.

"Do you want me to come snuggle, after you two are done exercising?" said Susan.

Oh.

Harry glanced at her and smiled fondly, "Yes, I would like that Susan."

Oh, shit.

"Alright," agreed Susan.

"Really?" said Amelia.

Harry nodded. Not smiling, deadly serious.

He didn't just not mind being concubine for two women on one contract.

"Would it be a deal-breaker if I said 'no'?" said Amelia.

"No," said Harry, "But it might be symptomatic of something that might be."

"Alright …" said Amelia, "Then … let's try it and let me decide?"

Harry stood and took her hand. Amelia led him three paces to the bed. They kissed once more, then undressed each other.

Harry did not take off his holsters, or his portkey necklace, and made not the slightest hint that she should remove her own holsters or toe rings.

He was proficient with the same contraception charm they'd taught her in fourth year, and confident enough to be liberal with it. He was fairly good in bed. She had to prompt him a few times to stroke her in her favourite places instead of only in some of the generic places.

He didn't seem to have much concept of holding back, but especially he responded to what she did, either to probe for what he enjoyed, or to ask for what she enjoyed. Or just to encourage him to slow down.

"You're allowed to talk you know," said Susan.

"What?" said Amelia, looking back over her shoulder, How did I end up on top, this time?

"Padma says he likes to talk," said Susan, "I'm just saying, you don't have to keep quiet on my account." She snorted, "Pig noises in deed."

"Ah," said Harry.

Amelia raised an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged, "Padma is a good talker and listener, someone else I've been playing with this summer was not, I've been getting used to working from motions as much as from requests and commands."

Amelia nodded, "do you want a turn on top?"

"It seemed like you wanted to be on top."

"I wanted you to slow down and make this last," said Amelia.

Harry grinned, "I've been under the impression there was a way to accomplish that, but not sure what that is, besides keeping on breathing, and not leaving my legs in one place for too long."

Amelia smiled, "So there is something left to teach you."

"Please, teach me anything you want me to know," agreed Harry.

Amelia was pleasantly surprised that he fell unconscious after his third orgasm, rather than his first. She climbed off him and shot cleansing charms where she wanted them, then rolled to sit against his hip, and turned to survey the room.

Susan now sat in the comfy chair, admiring the view.

Amelia smirked.

Susan gave her a thumbs up.

"Well?" said Amelia.

"You're allowed to snuggle him closer than that," said Susan.

"What?"

"He's …" Susan shrugged, "he talks about love languages, have you heard of those?"

"Yes, what about them?"

"Affectionate touch isn't his primary language, but it was one way that he was starved while growing up. He goes out of his way to prove that he's not a prude about accepting it or giving it, to make sure we ask for as much as we want of any love language."

"Um, so what's your point?"

"He'll smile more, the more of your skin he finds on him when he wakes up."

"Ah," said Amelia.

"Is this where I'm allowed to join you?" said Susan.

Amelia nodded, "do you mind grabbing the bedclothes while you're at it?"

Susan smiled, and did.

When they were snuggled against Harry's sides. Susan whispered, "I'm not signing it."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, that I could find," grimaced Susan, "I'll sign it and be happy, if you order me to, but …"

"What did I leave out?"

"Amendment process and escape clauses," said Susan, "If we want it permanent, then no termination clauses makes sense, in which case an amendment process seems necessary, or the reverse. Not having either seems to be asking for trouble."

Amelia nodded, "good point.'

"Also, escape clauses, if there were to be any, ought to cancel the breed contract clauses separately and distinctly from the child custody clauses."

"Ah," said Amelia, "Perhaps so."

"And finally," said Susan, "There's no way we can ask for fidelity, in an instrument that … basically demands he look elsewhere for finding someone to bear him an heir, but … I'd rather there were some kind of unofficial agreement among his partners, who's in, who's out, and what the process for changing that might should be."

"You're angry at me for muscling in on him?"

Susan smirked and scooted closer to kiss Amelia lightly on the lips.

Amelia suppressed the urge to recoil, mostly just in surprise.

"No Auntie," said Susan, "Not angry at you, but after you muscled in like that, he'll be angry at you for suggesting that there should be such a clause, I'll have to do it."

"Ah."

"I just want to know who I'm sharing him with. I'm sort of … I'd like some kind of vote or veto system in place, not to stop him from sleeping around, just to stop him from sleeping around outside the group."

"How big is 'the group'?"

"Six in school," said Susan, "two quarter veela in France which I think was a this-summer-only thing, and you."

"Alright," said Amelia.

"What are you thinking?" said Susan.

"Nine women, two nights a month, is eighteen nights, that might not leave enough nights for him to recuperate."

Susan nodded, "You see the problem too?"

"You already have a solution?"

"Well, besides 'don't make the group bigger than is sustainable' is one option," said Susan, "Another option is 'figure out how many of us are just lesbian enough to please each other when his attention is elsewhere?"

"Are you?" said Amelia.

Susan shrugged, "and Luna."

"Hmm," said Amelia.

"But allowing her to be spokesperson or mascot of such a group, is contraindicated. She glories in being weird, to a similar extent but greater degree than I can generally manage."

"Come again?"

"She enjoys confusing people as much as I do, she just goes farther weird, to confuse people."

"Hmm," said Amelia.

"With the result that perhaps half of us would gladly say, 'sure teach me to be lesbian' and perhaps no one would say 'teach me to be lesbian, like Luna.'."

"Oh, dear," sighed Amelia, then she tried again and managed a real yawn. She relaxed.

"Sleep well Auntie," said Susan, "I have the wards."

"Thank you," said Amelia, and closed her eyes.

.

...-...

{End Chapter 9}