Thank you to all of my VERY patient readers and my reviewers!
I am SO sorry it took this long, but here's two new chapters for you guys. I haven't had access to a computer. My old one broke and I just haven't been able to get a new one until a week ago my mom came home and was just like 'hey guess what I just bought you.', so yea. I've been typing since then.
I'm still working on the chapter that comes after these two, and I'm not sure how long it will take me. You'll see another update either next Saturday, or the one after that.
So, these two chapters are a little filler-ish, but they're important in their own way, and while I would have liked to post something more exciting after having been gone as long as I have, this is where we are in the story right now.
Also, I have a new beta, the wonderful Zerubel! I'm very excited to be working with her.
Quick summary for those who've forgotten- Harry has been in Asgard for the past few months. The repairs on the bifrost bridge have recently been finished, and so he, the twins, and Muhammad, have come back to Earth for a visit, of which this is the second chapter.
Warning! There's a bit of a male/male scene near the end of the chapter. It's nothing major or particularly sexual, but I'm letting it be known now for those of you who prefer not to read that sort of thing, so that you can skim through it if you need to. It wasn't planned, and I've got some things to say about it on my ending note, so please read that. And for future reference, any romance scenes you see here later on probably won't be any more explicit than what's posted here. I'll probably write those things, but they'll be added to my A03, and I'll make a link on my page when the time comes. There will be small notes saying 'edited out' in bold letters in the chapters here, so that you know where scenes like that were.
That's all I have to say for now, so, let's get on with it.
Enjoy.
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Harry gazed sleepily at the ghostly black bicorn that lay, calm, behind Severus where he sat at their little round kitchen table, drinking his tea and reading a newspaper. He himself laid on the couch, half-rolled-over on his stomach. The bicorn, and thus his father, were both content, and he let the vision drift away; the translucent animagus form disappearing. He closed his eyes, tired and too comfortable to get up just yet. He rarely bothered with this ability he had to see inner animals since the shaman had helped him get it back. There was very little point. Neither muggles nor Asgardians had inner animals, and he knew the twins (whom were now followed around by the ghostly versions of their changed werewolf forms, in the same colors as the hyenas had been) and Muhammad and his father all well enough that he just had no need for the ability as a means to read emotions; at least not lately.
In his own way, he missed walking through the halls of Hogwarts, passing by hundreds of his fellow witches and wizards, each followed along by their own ghostly animal forms, almost like colorful patroni; all blending together at the edges and creating rainbow trails. He still had no idea where the initial ability had come from, and aside from getting a look into the emotions of those magical human beings he came in contact with, the ability didn't seem to serve any real purpose. His brows scrunched together in thought, and then he pushed the mystery away and rolled over, snuggling into the cushions, smiling to himself when his foot touched something warm and alive.
He peeked an eye open.
It was Bruce, curled up at the other end of the couch. The twins had claimed the settee across from them, and Moo had spread out sideways on the armchair. It made him happy, having them all together in one house. Sometimes he dreamed about everyone he cared about all living together in one place; his brothers and father, all the other Weasleys, The Lupins, Logan and the Avengers and Loki and Sif, even the Malfoys and Dursleys, and Mahdi and his old friends; all together and right alongside everyone who had died. It was a strange repetitive dream.
An impossible dream.
"Are you going to join me for tea?" A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. He tilted his head back, looking at the potion master upside-down. "Or would you like to have a lie in?" He hummed, and, after a short hesitation, rolled off the couch and stretched. His back popped satisfyingly, and his tail swung a bit and swatted against Bruce's leg. The Doctor groaned and stretched out a little but didn't wake up. The former professor had already finished pouring his tea by the time he got to the table, and he took the warm cup with a contented smile and a quiet thanks.
He was enjoying the peace, and the heart-warming presence of his closest family members whilst he could, as tomorrow they would all be going their separate ways, though they planned to get back together for a few days before Harry and Moo and the twins would have to return to Asgard. The redheads in question would be going across the pond to visit their family, and Harry would be coming with them. After that, they would look into their business (they had left Lee in charge, and actually had three stores right now; one in Diagon, one in Hogsmeade, and another somewhere in Ireland) and Harry would be off to check in on the Lupins, and the Malfoys, and the Dursleys. Then he would come back to America while they stayed to see their friends. Moo said he needed a few days to himself, so he was likely to disappear for a bit, and while Harry was overseas his father couldn't come. Bruce probably could, but Harry didn't yet know if he would.
But he could still enjoy it all while it lasted.
He looked over at his father, his gaze catching on the forearms bared with the potion master having rolled up the sleeves of his button-up. He caught sight of the dark mark, or rather the pale, silvery lining that was left of it; barely distinguishable from Severus' skin in the pale early morning light (it looked like a scar); proof that the man was entirely unaware of his former master's return to the living realms. Harry still wasn't sure how to tell him, and he was loathe to break the peacefulness he saw in him, or wipe away the small, barely-there, pleased smiled that didn't seem to have left his face since they had come home.
"How have you been?" He asked him, seriously. "You told me yesterday that you'd been working?"
"There is a rather reputable potions shop just a few blocks from here." He told him. "The owner there is getting on in his years, and his hands shake too much for him to be able to make all the potions he once was capable of. Potion masters are apparently somewhat scarce on the Eastern coast, so he was quite pleased when I applied for the job. I've been saving up my galleons.I thought perhaps I could open a shop of my own at some point. I've been teaching Bruce as well. He's agreed to work with me if and when I should manage it." He was a bit more chatty today than usual, Harry thought to himself.
"You've been teaching him how to make potions?" He asked in surprise.
"Most potions don't require the use of magic at all. Many squibs do good work at potion shops. He can't make the more complex or rare potions which require a wand, but there are still countless brews he can learn. He's rather skilled at it. I believe he likened it to chemistry, and he has quite a lot of experience there." The man sipped at his tea.
"I didn't know you wanted to open your own shop."
"I would like to. I like to work. It keeps me busy and makes me feel less useless when you're off than just sitting at home living off your inheritance. And if I open my own shop, then I'll be my own employer, and as well as making a living, I'll also have the time to work on my personal projects and experiment a bit more. I've managed to patent a few new things while you've been gone, mostly tonics and the like that I worked on while we were moving around, so I've made a bit off my royalties there as well."
"If you want your own store, I'm sure I could-"
"No." His father interjected sharply. "As much as your help would not go unappreciated, this is something I would rather do on my own. It would mean more to me to know that I've earned it through my own work rather than help from others." Harry nodded, understanding.
"Maybe if you open a potion shop, I could start up something to do with runework? A shop of some kind? We could be store-neighbors." Severus chuckled.
"Considering those troublesome Weasleys of yours plan to open a branch of their store here in New York as well, I imagine that would be manageable. We could all work near one another."
"We'd be able to eat meals together every day."
"Perhaps even your brother would start something, though I doubt it would be any sort of respectable store." He said, gesturing at the still sleeping Muhammad.
"He could open a pub." Severus grinned.
"That would suit him."
"We could have drinks there at the end of the day."
"He'd make us serve ourselves." The man pointed out.
"But we wouldn't pay him for it."
"Or perhaps he would have a cigarette shop instead?" Harry snickered and his father grinned a bit. He took a drink of his tea once he'd stopped, but there was still a big smile on his face.
"I missed this." he admitted quietly.
"As did I, Harry. As did I."
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In the end, Harry decided he would wait to tell the man about Tom until after he was back in town, near the end of their little vacation. He just wasn't ready to face the potion master's possible reaction. Instead he said a quiet goodbye and gave a him a hug, and with the nasty clenching hook-around-the-navel-pull of a portkey, he and the twins (Moo had already slipped off sometime late the night before) were gone. They landed in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, and Harry, clad in Sirius' old jacket and his glamours doing their job of keeping him human-looking, observed the room, and the god-awful statue with a shiver going down his spine.
The Ministry held no reminders of anything good for him. The closest thing to a pleasant memory that he could recall from here was the time he had met with that social worker for his emancipation, and even that had been fraught with stress over the developing war and worry about getting caught by Dumbledore and having his route to escape closed off.
As such, he was intent on leaving quickly.
"Come on." He strode determinedly towards the exit he knew would take them up to that phone booth in London, the one he and Dad (Mr. Weasley) had used when they came down here for his trial what felt like a lifetime ago. Fred and George followed the order at once, falling into step on either side of him like a pair of bodyguards.
That was another thing their changed werewolf forms had affected. Since it had become clear that the wolfsbane potion was having little or no effect on them, they had stopped taking it, letting their 'animal sides' rise up. This led to more odd interactions like the ones Harry faced with Logan (but he was beginning to discover that the more they happened, the more he could control his responses); except that in this case the situation was somewhat reversed, with the redheads looking to Harry as their 'Alpha', as opposed to the other way around.
He had had to watch his words a little since it started, because they had a tendency to react to his suggestions as orders, and then proceed to follow said orders like loyal soldiers, though they too, were getting better at controlling themselves (sometimes they would hide in their rooms and Harry would order them to do various things, and they would try and practice disobeying him, because Harry didn't like having that kind of power over people he cared about, or at all really). If the advantage over them that it gave him wasn't enough to cause concern, the thought that Logan might have a similar hold over the animagus himself certainly was. But he couldn't do much about it, aside from either spending more time around the mutant and getting a handle on it with continued practice, or avoiding him entirely.
A result of their animalistic connection or no, the latter was something he found himself rather reluctant to do.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter, may I have a word?" Harry stopped in his tracks, more from surprise than anything else. He could hardly remember the last time he'd been called Mr. Potter.
Harry Potter wasn't even his name anymore.
He turned and observed a small portly man with a tiny hat jogging towards him. He recognized him, though it had been years since he'd seen him.
"Minister Fudge." He was followed by two Auror guards, and Harry smiled when he recognized one of them as well. "Auror Shacklebolt." Then he turned his attention back to the Minister, and that little politician Tom had cultivated in him rose up. "Also, Minister, it's Lord Black now." King Black, technically, but it was best he kept a lid on that for as long as he was able. Fudge flushed.
"Oh yes, ah, my apologies. Lord Black, of course." He looked flustered, and Harry raised a brow, unintentionally making himself look a great deal like the potions master he spent so much time with. Fudge seemed to recover from his blunder and straightened, as though to make himself look more confident. "I was told you'd left England." Harry wondered who had told him that.
"I did. I'm only here visiting at the moment."
"Oh I see. You don't intend to stay then?" There was a touch of disappointment to his voice.
"Just for the next week or so."
"Well," He looked hopeful now, and cleared his throat. "I wonder if you might like to have dinner with my wife and I, before you leave again?" Harry blinked, confused. Then a thought hit him, and he tilted his head.
"I'll consider it. I can send you an owl to let you know. I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush at the moment." He wasn't, but Fudge didn't need to know that.
"Oh yes! Of course! Of course! Carry on then, and I'll await your owl!" The Minister smiled at him, and he nodded, then looked at the dark-skinned Auror.
"It was good to see you again."
"You too, Harry." Shacklebolt smiled at him, and Harry and the twins (who had been exceedingly quiet throughout the encounter) went on their way. He waited until they were out of earshot.
"It's an election year, isn't it?"
"Yup." Fred responded, grinning. Harry hummed, and considered that.
If Fudge was asking to have dinner with him, it meant he wanted them to be seen together. If he wanted them seen together, that implied it would have a positive impact on his campaign; which in turn implied that harry's opinion held some manner of weight among the public.
So, even with those rumors Moo had told him were starting to spread, back when the war ended, he was in the public's favor?
If nothing else, should he make the decision to do something about those werewolf laws, he might have a little more luck than he originally thought.
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Harry chuckled, patting his Mum on the back as she engulfed him in a bear-hug. When she pulled away and smiled at him, he found most of his worries swept away. She just had that effect on people.
"Oh Harry dear, it's so good to see you! I really wish you'd visit more often. And you two!" She turned to Fred and George, hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face. "Where on Earth have you been?!" Not on Earth. "I know you said you were going on a trip, but really. Couldn't you be bothered to send an owl? Or answer the ones I sent you?!" She huffed, and her identical sons adopted sheepish expressions and glanced at Harry. It wasn't as though they would've gotten any letters there, he thought to himself.
"Sorry, Mum." They offered in unison. She huffed again, and then waved them both into a hug, seemingly willing to let the matter go for now. Harry smiled at the scene, but his eyes caught on her hair, pulled back as it was. There were a few streaks of grey in it, like his Father's. Both of them were aging prematurely, especially for wizarding folk.
Stress from the war, he supposed, and looked away.
"Well it can't be helped now." She sighed. "Come on in you three! I've just finished a batch of biscuits and I can hardly eat them all myself." They followed her into the burrow, and Harry took in the faded wallpaper and worn rugs and the smell of food and felt welcome and comfortable.
"Are you the only one here?" He asked, and looked up at the unique Weasley clock as they entered the kitchen.
"At the moment. It's been quiet during the weekdays ever since Ginny and Dean moved out. They bring Rose up to visit on the weekends."
Bill's, Dad's, Ron's, Hermione's, Ginny's and Dean's hands were all on 'work'. Fleur and Victorie? Were traveling. Rose, and Hugo were on 'babysitter', and Mum's, Fred's, George's, and Harry's all pointed to 'home'. To Harry's surprise, there was also a little hand labeled 'Bruce', which was pointed at 'work'.
"Victorie?" He questioned quietly. Fred and George had told him before Asgard that Ron and Hermione had had a son while he'd been gone, so he knew who Hugo was, even if he'd never seen him, but... Mum heard him, and smiled a bit.
"She's Bill and Fleur's. She was born not a week after the three of you went and disappeared on us, a good month and a half after she was supposed to be due. Adorable little thing, and Fleur's already expecting their next child. Hermione too, but she's a few more months along. She'll have her baby any day now."
"Wow." He said, surprised. The Weasley clan had been growing while he wasn't paying attention. He frowned. The twins were the only ones still alive who didn't have kids; and who probably never would either (unless they adopted, of course).
Well, they and him.
It had been some time since he'd given any real thought to the subject of children of his own. He wasn't married, and he wasn't ready to be so, but he had always wanted a family of his own. He'd dreamed about it as a child; not just of his parents or some other family member whisking him away from the Dursleys, but also of growing up, taking some faceless wife and having kids. Sometimes in the dreams he would have just a son, who looked like him, that he would take better care of than his Aunt and Uncle did of him. Other dreams, especially ones he'd had after meeting the Weasley family, he would have lots and lots of kids; an entire house full.
He couldn't quite recall when those dreams had stopped. Maybe around the same time that longing for family had gone away; when he had finally managed to stitch together a dysfunctional family of his own and was happy with it.
But children... Did he still want them? He honestly wasn't sure anymore. It was a beautiful idea, certainly. He liked kids and got along well enough with them. He loved his godchildren. He certainly didn't mind the thought of having kids, whether his own blood or adopted... But...
Well, no matter how he felt about it, he couldn't realistically have a kid anytime soon. Even if he adopted one, he wouldn't want to do it yet. He had other things on his plate right now, and with Hel's looming warning of some coming catastrophe he wouldn't feel right bringing a child close to himself where they may well be in danger. It was irresponsible, if not downright negligent.
Although, having a kid would certainly...
He shook himself out of his thoughts. Really, it was no use being melancholic about that right now, and besides, he was still only in his early twenties. He had plenty of time (more than plenty, if Hel was to be believed) to have kids later on, when his life had settled a bit.
He sat himself down at the kitchen table, and smiled when Mum set a plate of biscuits in front of him.
Children could wait, right now he was suddenly very hungry.
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He hadn't expected a reply to his letter so soon, but before he knew it, Fred and George were off working, and the Malfoys had responded with a time and what was practically a demand, for him to come to dinner. Thus he found himself standing in the parlour of their, rather expansive (it was, easily, as big as, if not bigger than, Bogdon Stronghold) manor, having been let in by a bowing house elf wearing a clean pillowcase-like garment embroidered with what he assumed was the Malfoy crest; a quartered shield with a large 'M' that was held on either side by wyverns, had several spears pointing out from behind it, and crowned on top by a pair of twisting serpents. The elf, 'Dilly' it called itself, asked him to wait there while it alerted the masters of the house to his presence, and then popped away.
Harry studied the cream walls with their elaborate golden trim, and recalled a time, long ago, when he had only ever thought of Draco as a spoiled little rich brat, as opposed to a friend, or cousin. His boots tapped a little noisily on the white marble floors, and he considered, for a moment, using a silencing charm on them, before discarding the idea as he heard the approach of footsteps.
A set of double-doors to his left opened up at their approach, and a moment later Lord Malfoy, in all his blond aristocratic pureblooded glory, entered the room; his signature cane tapping against the floor. He stopped before Harry, looking the younger man over, and Harry noted that he really looked no different than the last time the animagus had seen him. The man looked almost coldly down at him, and then, abruptly, he smiled.
"It's been some time, Harry." The animagus grinned.
"That it has, Lucius." He offered in a teasing sort of tone, and the blond scoffed at him. Harry remembered how much fun he used to have back in Russia; irritating the man when he would try to teach and impose pureblood etiquette on him.
"Walk with me." The Lord Malfoy turned and strode away, and with a roll of his eyes, Harry followed him, having little difficulty keeping up. "I heard some interesting rumors." The man told him, as they made their way through a long hall with its walls lined with many portraits of various people; many blond.
"Oh?"
"Yes. Word was that you had some involvement in that mess in New York a few months back?" Harry hummed.
"Where did you hear that?" He asked, genuinely curious.
"A business associate, a squib in fact. He spends most of his time in the muggle world, but he involves himself enough in the magical side of things to have been aware of your identity. Apparently, he saw you fighting. He told me he wasn't even sure it was really you, at first. I wonder what caused you to involve yourself, assuming it was, in fact, you. That hero-complex of yours, perhaps?"
"Something like that." Lucius looked at him from the corner of his eye.
"What I truly find interesting, is that, despite occasionally hearing of your exploits these last few years as you travelled, and thus being able to keep track of your whereabouts, I've heard absolutely nothing during the last six months; even with those others involved in New York, the Avengers, I believe they call themselves, popping up at least sparingly."
"I didn't know you were keeping tabs on me." He said carefully. Lucius stopped walking. They were at the end of the hall now, a closed set of doors before them.
"You may have decided to cut all ties when you fled the Isles, but that does not mean that I forgot who my family was; and I do like to know what my family is up to, and whether or not they're safe." Harry bristled.
"I didn't cut my ties, and I didn't forget either." He snapped.
"And yet, you have returned twice before this, and both times you saw fit to visit the Weasleys, to whom you are not even related, while I and Our family, have seen nothing of you in nearly three years." He sounded legitimately angered, and Harry, for a moment, hesitated to snap back at him. He was surprised, honestly, that Lucius was so up in arms about this; that it, apparently, mattered so much to him.
...Though really, he shouldn't be. He had known, back when Lucius and Draco had chosen to stand and actively fight with them against Voldemort and the still-loyal death eaters, that they had done so primarily because Harry was related to them, and, while Harry didn't particularly think much of blood, and didn't think that it mattered all that much, it certainly did matter to the Malfoys, and families like them.
He looked away from Lucius, gritting his teeth and not quite sure what he was supposed to say (because most anything he could say would either upset the blond more, or be seen as a bullshit excuse). The older man sighed heavily.
"I understand that you have different views on blood than I do, and that you were not raised as the pureblood you are, and so you do not feel the same connection to our traditions, nor place the same importance on them," He paused, and Harry looked up at him again. He looked... sad. "but at least respect the fact that I DO. Even if it should be short notice, or without warning, and even if you should only arrive for an hour, I would appreciate seeing you when you are around, as difficult as that may be for you to understand." He was right there, in a way. Harry and Draco had become friends during their later Hogwarts years, and he and Lucius had worked together on researching and destroying the Horcruxes. Mrs. Malfoy had helped him look after Ginny, once he'd rescued her, and both Malfoy men had fought with them in the final battle...
But he had never gotten to a point of feeling particularly close with them, the way he felt family was meant to be, and though he cared about them, he supposed that in a way he had come to think of his familial connection to them as more of an obligation than a genuine connection, the same way he sometimes thought of the Dursleys (though he went out of his way to mentally trick himself into thinking of them in better light), despite their better treatment of him in later years.
A childhood of abuse was just a bit too much for him to completely get over, no matter how long he had been locking it up in an occluded mental box.
"I'm sorry." He said, both because he meant it, and also because he could tell that's what Lucius wanted him to say. "I... I'll try to visit more often, when I'm able." The older man's expression eased and he put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed a bit.
"That's all I ask." He let go. "Now come. Dinner has been prepared, and the rest of the family is interested in seeing you. Draco would like you to meet your godson as well."
"Oka- wait what? Godson?" Lucius ignored him, opening the doors before them, and striding through. Harry shuffled in after him in confusion, and looked around.
It was a dining room, grand and beautiful, with pale green walls and white trimmings, and a long, cedar table lined with a few dozen high-backed, pale-cushioned chairs. There were two, larger chairs, at either end, both unoccupied, but everyone was seated near one of them, and Harry stopped and looked them over.
To the left of the head chair was Lady Malfoy, as beautiful as Harry remembered her. Next to her was a woman he had never met properly, but who he had seen a picture of; Andromeda Tonks nee Black. Beside her was her metamorphmagus daughter, who he was, of course, much more familiar with. Her hair was currently short, spiky, and bubblegum pink in color (it was a color he knew she favoured). The sight of them here, in the Malfoy home, was surprising. Across from Narcissa was Draco. He'd filled out a bit these past few years, and grown his hair out some; enough for a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, reminiscent of Lucius; though it was a little messier than his. Next to him, with an empty chair between them, was Blaise, who had grown even taller than the blond beside him; he gave Harry a roguish grin when he spotted him. Next to him was a woman that took the animagus a moment to recognize as being Daphne Greengrass. She had certainly... grown as well, though not in height. The last person in the room sat on an elevated chair next to Tonks; a small blond boy with blue eyes. He looked close in age to Teddy; maybe just a little younger.
"I thought you'd dropped off the face of the Earth." Blaise said wryly at the sight of him. Harry grinned. If only he knew how close to the truth that actually was.
"Something like that." He offered amusedly. "Long time no see." Draco snorted.
"You could say that again." He grumbled. The blond stood, and waved a hand. "Well, come meet your godson." Harry walked over.
"I didn't even know you had a son, and you named me godfather?" He muttered.
"Godmother actually; at least on paper. Blaise here is his godfather."
"You can't be serious." He stared at the blond and Draco smirked at him. It was the same expression he used to make during Quidditch when he'd made a good play or nearly hurt or humiliated Harry, before they became friends and before Harry had given up Quidditch.
"Well from a legal standpoint we're not permitted to have two godfathers, and there were no women I felt were qualified to be a godmother, aside from my own mother," He smiled over at her. "which isn't allowed either. So yes, I'm completely serious." Tonks chuckled, and when Harry glanced at her, he saw her hair had turned a sunny yellow color. Harry gave her a bland look, and would have commented, but his cousin led him gently by the arm to stand before his apparent godson. "Scorpius, this is your uncle, Harry Black. Harry, this is my son, Scorpius." Curious, aqua-colored eyes looked up at him, and a small high voice came from the child:
"It's ni' to meet 'oo Misser Black." He had a proper, polite little voice, and the animagus chuckled.
"It's nice to meet you too, Scorpius." The little boy nodded in a solemn, serious sort of way, and Harry smiled. He watched the tiny blond glance over at Lucius when the man took a seat, and then sit up a bit straighter, correcting his posture in an attempt to emulate his grandfather. He grinned then.
"Come around, Gryffindork." Blaise waved a hand at the empty chair between he and Draco. "Have a seat." The animagus rolled his eyes, and did so, sitting properly for once, with his back straight and his feet flat on the floor.
It was one thing to slouch around the Lord of the Malfoy house as a means of teasing him; it was quite another to sit that way at a table where everyone else (even Tonks) was sitting as custom and manners dictated. He wasn't Muhammad. He did try to be proper when the situation called for it.
There was a short moment of silence where Harry had the chance to smile at the pink-haired witch across from him, and then Lucius snapped his fingers. Several house elves appeared, dressed like the one in the manor lobby had been, each bearing platters and plates of food. They levitated them onto the table, and then Harry found himself caught up in dinner conversation, and quite a few questions.
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"You're a healer?" Blaise nodded, chewing, and finished before he replied.
"Not yet. I'm in my last year of training, and then they'll place me in an apprenticeship to someone with at least seven years working experience for a couple years. But after that, with luck, yes."
"Sounds amazing to me." Harry complimented. "I've never been able to handle more than a basic episkey in the way of healing spells."
"It requires a really fine control over your magic; which can be difficult when someone has a larger-than-average magical core." Harry nodded.
"Like me." He didn't like to think of himself as powerful, but he wasn't blind to the fact that he had more magic available to him than most; or to the way he could keep going for a bit after his fellows succumbed to magical exhaustion. It was something he'd noticed back during D. A. training.
"Exactly. Which reminds me, I have you to thank for my career choice."
"Huh?" The darker male shrugged
"If not for that ridiculous club of yours, I don't think I would have realized I had an interest, or skill for that matter, in healing."
"It was hardly ridiculous."
"What club?" Tonks piped up, having previously been in conversation with her mother. It was hardly illegal, but schoolday years of keeping it a secret from authority figures had Harry, Draco, Blaise, and Daphne all responding on instinct in a chorus:
"Nothing." The brows rose on the metamorphmagus' head. Harry chuckled nervously and took a sip of the wine that had been placed in front of him at the start of the meal. He didn't particularly care for the taste of it, but it was a way to excuse himself from responding, even if only for a moment.
"What about you two, Draco, Daphne? Made careers for yourselves?" Draco smiled.
"Yes actually. I've been working to become a Potion Master. I've been attending Nubila University for my degree. I've got two years left, but I'm doing a portion of that as an Intern at Hogwarts. I've been working under Slughorn."
"Wow." A potion Master like Severus. It suited him, Harry thought, vaguely recalling Remus telling him about it. "And you?" He turned to Daphne.
"Auror. I just finished basic training, so I'm stuck partnered to a full-Auror for the next year before they'll let me handle anything on my own." She gestured to Tonks, who grinned.
"She's been a right pain in my arse, she has." The metamorphmagus declared. Her mother swatted her arm and she yelped.
"Language, Nymphadora." Andromeda chastised. They all chuckled and grinned at her expense as her hair and face turned a hot pinkish-red in embarrassment.
"More like she's been a pain in mine, clumsy as she is-" He heard Daphne mutter, and he bit his lip to hide his laughter.
There was a bit of teasing, and Harry grew lost in thought while the others chatted.
It wasn't the same as dinner at the Burrow; a bit more formal, more polite and proper. There were no raised voices, either from excitement or the occasional flared temper. The laughter wasn't as loud and boisterous. The food was fancier than Mum's home-cooked meals, and the plates and silverware were light and shiny with not a chip or crack in sight... But...
It was... Nice. Nicer, and warmer, and more comfortable than he had first expected it to be. He was enjoying himself.
He thought about their individual paths in life as well, how they reflected the ways the children he'd known were growing into the adults he was, slowly, getting to know. Blaise with his knack for healing spells, who (beside Seamus) had helped to patch him and everyone else up after the final battle, was a healer. Draco, who had always gotten the best grades in potion class (and not just because of Severus' bias) was on his way down the path of a career in it; following in the blond's godfather's footsteps. And Daphne, who had always had very precise aim with her offensive spells, and a particularly impressive knack for shield charms, had become an Auror; and though he would never have imagined her as such, something about it felt right. It suited her well.
His thoughts now, reflected his thoughts back in the Weasley household. Everyone was changing, and growing, their families getting bigger, their lives moving forward. And Harry, despite all his training, and learning in defense, and runes, and illusionary magic, felt-
He felt... Left behind. As though he had started out walking beside everyone, and had stopped, distracted, only to turn around and realize that everyone else had continued on ahead of him.
Someone laid their hand on his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. Everyone was still chatting, but Blaise, whose hand it was, glanced at him from the corner of his eye, an expression of concern there, and the barest hint of a frown on his lips. Harry smiled reassuringly at him, and then finally let himself be caught back up in the conversation; telling stories about his travels, and his Rune Apprenticeship, and the many people he had met and gotten to know over the past three years.
What was he doing with his life, he wondered.
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Lucius had, through some needling and an almost-but-not-quite-argument, managed to convince him to spend the night in Malfoy Manor. The room he'd been given was lavish, decorated in white and blue, with a canopy bed bigger than the one he'd had at Hogwarts, and a bay window on one side with small runes around the frame that made the glass one-way. He sat on the bench there, glamours off, and watched the albino peacocks roam about the back lawn and through the garden, filled as it was with a maner of flowers. There were a couple regular ones as well, brown females and the males with their brilliant blue and green plumage.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, lost in thought with his tail twitching lazily bath and forth; long enough for the sky, which had been orange with the sunset when he sat down, to turn dark, and for lights to appear along the pathways through the flowers. There was a knock on the door, and Harry reached for his band.
"It's just me and Draco." It was Blaise, and Harry set the band down and called for them to come in. They did, the blond shutting the door behind him once he laid his eyes on the scaled animagus. There was a gilded chair in the corner of the room, and Draco levitated it closer to the window to sit in while the darker skinned wizard settled himself on the other side of the bench. He turned back to his watching, and they sat peacefully in the silence for a time.
"Harry." It was Draco who broke it, and Harry looked at him. "What's going on?"
"What do you-"
"You've got that look about you. Like the night before the battle." Harry grimaced.
"Everything's fine."
"No it's not." Blaise shot at him. "You're an accio charm for trouble, always have been. Why should now be any different?" It took the green-eyed male a moment to realize his tone was one of teasing, and he smiled a little.
"I can't talk about it." He said, finally, thinking of Hel's warning again. It had been on his mind a lot the last few weeks as he trained; he kept wondering how it was he was supposed to prepare for a calamity if he had no idea what it was he might face.
"Maybe not." Draco abruptly stood. "But the least we can do is take your mind off it. Come on." Harry blinked at him, and, carefully, stood. Blaise did as well, and he slipped his glamour band back on once he realized they were headed for the door.
"Where are we going?"
"Pub." Blaise declared cheerfully, swatting him on the back. "Going to have a few drinks with some of the guys from the old group." Harry glanced once back at the large guest bed. It looked so comfortable.
He sighed, and followed them out the door.
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The pub wasn't one he'd been to before. It was a small, crowded little place down Diagon Alley (and gods, when was the last time he'd been there?) near the entrance to Knockturn; quite a bit less family-friendly than the Leaky Cauldron. It was the sort of place for people to gather and drink after a day of hard work, and, maybe, he thought, eyeing a few suspicious characters and a woman whose clothes brought a blush to his face, also the sort of place to make dealings just a bit outside what was proper. It reminded him a little of Moo's seedy hangouts, but friendlier; at least enough so that he didn't feel the need to keep looking over his shoulder.
He blinked, stopping short as they came close to a table, and took in the mix of faces there.
He recognized Oliver Wood immediately, though he hadn't seen him in a long time, but it took him a moment to realize the large frightening-looking man with bad teeth next to him was Marcus Flint. He watched, jaw dropping a bit, as Wood leaned over and kissed him, and Flint grinned and put an arm over the former Quidditch Captain's shoulders. He stared, longer than was strictly appropriate, and then, with a shake of his head, surveyed the rest of the table's occupants. Next to Flint was another very familiar face, one that instantly brought a fond smile to his face. Neville looked good. He'd lost nearly all his baby fat, and the hint of hair along his jaw gave him a sort of roguish attractiveness. Next to him Seamus was waving his arms around, telling some sort of story and looking as excitable as ever. Then there was Dean, sipping his drink and nodding along to whatever his best friend was saying. Crabbe and Goyle, the latter with a ring on his finger, were listening with rapt attention, looking mostly the same as ever. Harry shook his head, and followed Draco and Blaise along to the table.
Gryffindors and Slytherins. Who would've thought?
"Look who we found." Blaise declared, interrupting Seamus' tale, and then all eyes were on him. Harry shifted and waved a little awkwardly.
"Hey."
"Harry!"
"Mate!" Neville and Seamus both looked ecstatic at the sight of him, and the latter was on his feet and throwing his arms around Harry practically in the blink of an eye. He was pushed back a bit with the force of the tackle, but he didn't stumble, and managed to return the Irishman's hug and pat his back a little. The moment he let go, Neville was there, crushing him in a bear hug that had nothing on Bruce's, and actually lifting him off the ground a little. He laughed, and they grinned at each other as they pulled apart.
"Long time no see, you prat." The brunette snarked. His voice had gotten deeper, and there was a confidence in the way he held himself that Harry had never seen in him before. "You could have at least sent an owl."
"Sorry. How've you both been?"
"Good."
"Amazing." Seamus was grinning. "Come on and have a pint with us Harry." He pulled the animagus by the arm, and he shook his head as he was forced into a chair between his two former dormmates.
"Hey Harry." He grinned at Oliver.
"Hey there Captain." The sandy-haired man laughed.
"Not a Captain anymore, though maybe in a few years."
"Oh?" It was Marcus Flint who answered.
"You're looking at Puddlemere United's finest Keeper." He squeezed Oliver's shoulder a bit as he spoke, and looked at him fondly (Harry remembered how much they'd pretty much despised each other in school, and how their Quidditch rivalry had been practically legendary, and wondered how in Merlin's name they'd wound up together). He didn't know much about Professional Quidditch, but he knew enough to know that Puddlemere was one of England's national teams, and he grinned.
"I'll believe it. He was the best keeper at Hogwarts." Hopefully Ron, who had joined the team and become keeper right around the same time Harry gave Quidditch up, wouldn't know he said that. Oliver grinned at him, and Marcus rolled his eyes.
"Don't let him get too much of a big head now, Potter." The former Slytherin remarked dryly (and Harry wondered why he would bother after having just complimented Oliver's skills himself).
"Arse." The Keeper remarked.
"Idiot." Flint shot back, and Harry was disconcerted by the familiarity of the situation. They acted a lot like he and- He shook his head, a strange feeling crawling up and down his spine, and discarded the thought.
"It's Black, actually." Both of them (and the other three former Gryffindors at the table), looked up at him.
"Is it?" Flint remarked.
"It is. Just don't go spreading that around." Draco cut in. He had a platter of drinks floating next to him, and Harry hadn't even noticed him leave to go get them. He passed them around, and the animagus took and sipped at his with a grin. He hadn't had butterbeer in a long time, and while the way it warmed his stomach alerted him to it being more than just regular butterbeer, he was pleased to have some all the same. Flint looked carefully at Draco for a moment, and then at Harry, and nodded.
"Whatever you say." Conversation flowed easily after that, Harry learning a bit about where they all had ended up.
Dean worked at the Ministry in the Goblin-Wix Relations Department. The animagus got the impression that it was a very stressful job, if the way he sighed the moment it came up, and the circles under his eyes, were any indication. His wife, Harry's little sister Ginny, apparently worked with Luna at The Quibbler, which had become something of a respectable Newspaper during the end of, and after, the war; given that they had printed the facts as they were rather than edit things enough to please Voldemort like The Prophet had done those last few months. The former was one of two Editors-In-Chief, as she tended to travel the world a bit. The other Editor, who looked after things in Luna's absence was Alessa Zabini, Blaise's elder sister (and Harry hadn't even known he had a sister). Ginny, for her part, was a reporter, and according to Dean, a damned good one at that.
Neville worked as an Herbologist with a Potion's Ingredient company called Columbine's Roots, and was planning on taking over as the Herbology Professor and Head of Hufflepuff House (apparently it didn't matter that that hadn't been his own house) at Hogwarts in a year or two when Professor Sprout was ready to retire. He was dating Hannah Abbott, had been for two years, and although they had no plans to get married anytime soon, they lived in a little flat right there in Diagon Alley (over a bakery that Hannah owned and ran), and were very happy together.
Seamus, like Blaise, had gone into healing, though unlike the former Slytherin (who would be working in the Magical Accident Ward), he intended to work as the wizarding equivalent to a Pediatrician, healing children. Through the course of the conversation Harry learned that he had stayed single, with the occasional flame here and there, but had, on his own, adopted a little girl named Lila, who (from the goofy look on his face and the way he went on about how adorable and smart she was) he absolutely adored. He had several pictures of her on him, and he pulled them out for Harry to see, gushing all the while whilst everyone else rolled their eyes. She had cherry-blonde hair and light brown eyes and was smiling or laughing genuinely in every photograph.
Crabbe and Goyle both worked at the Ministry as well, the first in the Department of Transportation, where they made portkeys, managed the paperwork to do with International VIPs and how they got into the country, and monitored the floo system; and the second in the Improper Use of Magic Office, where they dealt mostly with violations of the Statute of Secrecy and underage-magic violations. Goyle had married Morag MacDougal just a few months after the final battle, and they had a baby boy named Douglas. Crabbe, on the other hand, said very quietly that he had a girlfriend, but didn't say who it was or how long they'd been together. He looked rather shy about the whole thing, and Harry didn't feel the need to press the subject.
Flint (like Remus and Tonks had told him), was working at Hogwarts as an assistant groundskeeper. In a few months he'd be taking over the job completely so that Hagrid could focus on his job as Care of Magical Creatures Professor. Flint would also help out occasionally as a teaching assistant. Headmistress McGonagall had apparently put him in charge of ensuring Hagrid didn't bring in anything too dangerous for the various age groups, and that anytime he brought in something that deserved some caution, proper safety measures would be taken.
Draco rubbed an arm when that subject came up, and Harry was reminded of the incident with Buckbeak (he didn't know what had become of the Hippogriff after Sirius' death), and despite the fact that he was sure the blond had played the incident up a bit, he thought safety precautions were probably a good idea. After all, between Norbert and Fluffy, Hagrid had more than proven that he had different ideas about what was and wasn't dangerous. Though, considering his size, it was easy to see that something dangerous to a normal person, may not be so much so to Hagrid, and the half-giant probably lost sight of that from time to time.
"So Harry, still travelling?" Neville asked at one point. Flint and Oliver were caught up together, chatting in low tones and kissing occasionally. Harry found himself eyeing them from time to time, since, before now, he'd never seen a same-gender couple first hand. It was, interesting, for lack of a better word, to see how they interacted with each other. It reminded him of how Bill and Fleur acted together; besotted with each other and happy beyond belief. Blaise and Seamus were debating some sort of crystal healing matrix over the table that Harry didn't understand a word of, and Draco, Dean, Crabbe, and Goyle, were talking about something going on at the Ministry.
"A bit, yea." Well, he hadn't left Asgard in a while, but he wasn't about to explain all that.
"Blaise said you're a runes apprentice?"
"Yea. I could probably try for my mastery at this point," He was finally willing to admit his skill level, once he'd looked into the requirements for gaining a mastery certificate. "but I'm still learning a lot, so I've been waiting."
"That's pretty impressive. Runework is a difficult field to go into. Were you planning on working as a warder, or...?" Harry shrugged.
"I haven't decided yet. I've just been experimenting mostly, I haven't really figured out what I want to do yet." Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face or in his tone, because Neville lowered his voice.
"That's not a bad thing you know," He told Harry. "taking your time to figure out what you want in life." The animagus didn't respond at first, and, when he did, he too had lowered his voice so the others wouldn't hear.
"It just seems like everyone else has their lives all figured out. It feels like-" He waved a hand, not knowing how to put it into words.
"Like everyone else is moving on to bigger and better things while you're still figuring out which direction to walk in?" He blinked, and then nodded. Neville smiled kindly at him. "I know the feeling, believe me. But to be fair, we're not as figured out as you think. Me and Hannah still can't decide if we want to marry or not, or have children or not, and it took awhile to decide if I wanted to go into making potion ingredients or working in the Ministry's Experimental Plants Department. I'm still not one-hundred-percent about becoming a professor, even though I like the idea." He waved a hand towards the Italian wizard across the table. "Blaise couldn't decide if he wanted to work in the Magical Accidents Ward, the General Ward, or the Long-Term Care Ward, and he was so stuck between the three that he finally just wrote them all down on bits of paper and pulled one out of a hat at random. Draco started at University headed towards a law degree to become a Barrister, and then changed it, right around when he finished the basic classes, to a Potions Mastery instead." He smiled again. "There's nothing wrong with being indecisive or with taking your time in figuring yourself out; figuring out what you want to do. For all you know, you could get your mastery and then suddenly decide you want to be an Auror or a Defense Professor or a muggle Baker or something. It's fine. No one's leaving you behind, Harry. Don't let yourself be bothered, and don't feel rushed. Take as much time as you need charting your course, and even if you still don't have it all figured out twenty years from now, that's okay, as long as you're happy. Alright?" Harry felt much better, and nodded. Neville had always been good at picking people up when they felt down.
"Alright." He took a sip from his butterbeer. "And Neville?"
"Yea?"
"Thanks."
"No problem Harry."
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"-comes in, and we all just stop. I mean, I've seen some weird stuff since working at St. Mungo's, but this little kid was so set on keeping on with his Quidditch game that he fused his broom to his hands with accidental magic-"
"Boy after me own heart!" Oliver cut in.
"and the poor kid is standing there just trying not to whack himself in the family jewels with the thing, and his mum is freaking out and panicking, and we're all so gobsmacked we don't even know where to start, and no one can find the senior healer, lazy bastard-" They're all laughing, and Harry can hardly even hear Seamus over the sound of his own liquor-induced mirth. By the time he's managed to stop laughing, he and Neville (who'd been laughing just as hard) are hanging off of each other, their seats occasionally teetering as they wobble from side to side, Seamus has finished his story and is busy knocking back another gulp of his drink.
Blaise stood up from the table, or tried to. He'd had too much to drink not to wobble dangerously.
"Gotta use the loo." He announced, unrepentantly. He tried to take a step in the right direction, and nearly fell. Harry laughed at him, and stood.
"I'll help you." They'd gotten food at some point, and he can't even remember what he'd eaten by that point, but it was messy, and he'd been needing to go and wash his hands for a good twenty minutes at least. His balance was only slightly better than Blaise's, but he stumbled over, and they each threw an arm over each other's shoulders, and slowly made their way towards the bathrooms.
They were covered in light tiles and orange walls, but it was just a bathroom, nothing special, and while Blaise carefully managed his way to a stall, he went to wash his hands...
Also his shirt, because there was something pink on it, and he both didn't know what it was, or how it got there. He scrubbed at it, and it came out easily enough, and he was just finishing up when Blaise came over to wash his hands, already done. He went off to dry his hands, the sound of the magical drying towel rubbing against his hands seeming unusually loud. He'd gotten accustomed to the laughter and boisterous conversation in the pub and at their table, and the bathroom, silent as it was, was a stark change from that.
"Harry." He put the towel back, and went to turn around, to respond, when- oh.
The wall was cold and hard against his back, and Blaise's hands were like fire against his skin. One was on his cheek, quickly moving up to tangle into his hair and pull it from the tie, letting it fall messily around his face, and the other was on his side, fingers slipping into a gap between his shirt and trousers (it must have ridden up) and slowly sliding up and around under his shirt to his back. Blaise was kissing him, and it felt warm, and strange...
And amazing.
It was practically instinctive to kiss back; to move his lips against the Italian's in turn even though he'd never done it before. His own hands came up, almost of their own accord. One was on the back of Blaise's head, brushing over peach fuzz (he liked the feel of it, it was scratchy and a little ticklish against his palm and there was something about it that just-), the other one splayed over one of the taller man's shoulders, feeling up lithe muscle under his fingertips. He'd never been kissed, never kissed another person before, but it's incredible, not just in how it feels, but in how easy it is to respond. It's like the first time he flew on a broom; like his body knows what to do already and he's just along for the ride.
Except that he wasn't sure when or how to breathe, and he eventually had to break away and gasp in air, because they were not underwater, and his gills don't work outside of it. His head fell back against the wall, and Blaise pressed closer. The hand on his back was making random patterns against his skin, giving him goosebumps in the process, and the other one tugged on his hair a bit, holding his head back with only the smallest tinge of pain that didn't bother him in the least. Blaise's body pressed closer against his, chest to chest, with one knee sliding up inbetween his legs and only just brushing against a clothed part of him that has never felt any touch but his own. He was so warm, and it was like hugging, but so much better.
It was incredible, and wonderful, and he loved it. But-
But.
"Blaise." The dark-skinned man hummed against his throat. It tickled a little, and then he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there. It was like an electric current down Harry's spine, and he groaned. Gods above that was- Blaise's mouth moved up, and he licked Harry's ear, biting down and tugging slightly on the earring there, and that felt even better.
He'd always thought Blaise was good-looking, but he'd never considered him in a romantic light. Even so, none of this had made him nervous, or disgusted, or anything of the sort. He wouldn't have minded letting it continue. It would've been so easy to let it happen; to let Blaise touch and kiss him all he wanted, to return the favour with gusto. It would've been easy for the two of them to slip out through the floo and go somewhere private; for Harry to give up his virginity in a drunken haze to a man he considers his friend. Blaise is even the sort of person where Harry could picture waking up, the morning after, and still being just friends, without any awkwardness. But-
But he could see Sif's face in his mind's eye. Her dark hair and hazel eyes and her strength and her beauty. He could see harsh morning training together and dancing in a ballroom; and it's ridiculous, because they're not even together, and logically, he knows that. He knows that one little goodnight kiss on the cheek means nothing. He knows he has no more obligations to her than she does to him.
But he could picture her, and his very slowly growing feelings for her, and the smallest bit of guilt curled inside his stomach.
"Stop." He said, and Blaise, who's always been a respectful person, did, at once, and pulled back his head but not his hands. His pupils were wide when he looked at Harry, his brown eyes darkened nearly to black.
"You don't want this?" He asked, his voice a little breathy. Harry hesitated, because he did, only...
"There's this girl," and he tried to think of how to phrase it, because they're not together, and he could do whatever he wanted, really, and it probably wouldn't be too difficult for Blaise to talk him into it if he explained, and he wouldn't even mind being talked into it; but he didn't need to, because Blaise smiled instead.
"Alright." He pulled away, fixed Harry's shirt as he did, and then reached up and fixed his hair back into his tie. Harry let him, and sighed, in relief or disappointment, he wasn't sure. Blaise kissed him, once more, lightly, barely, and that was it. Harry's skin still felt a bit warm where he'd been touched, and he already started to feel a bit colder with the lack of it. "Let's go back to the table."
"I'm sorry." He didn't really know why he apologized, but it felt like he needed to.
"Don't be. Maybe another time." He winked at Harry and grinned, and Harry laughed, because he'd never gotten really close to Blaise, even if they had become friends in Hogwarts, but he recognized forgiveness when he saw it.
They went back to the table, to the drinks and conversation and laughter, with no one else the wiser about what had happened.
It was his first kiss, and that was important, and as he joined back in on the talk and jokes he wondered if he should tell Blaise how much it meant to him.
But he didn't.
And later, when they got back to the manor, and Harry stumbled into that big bed in the middle of the night, he was happy, and thought to himself that it had been a very good night.
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Please Read- I'm going to say it just this once, because I don't want to be stuck addressing it later on. No, this Does Not change the current pairings of Harry/Sif and Harry/Logan.
After Harry/Logan, however, who knows. I haven't decided if that will be the end pairing for this fic or if, like with Sif, that relationship will end.
I never planned for the Harry/Blaise scene to happen, but the characters always take over the story, and at some point Blaise just poked in and was just 'this is happening', and I wound up liking the scene so much that I didn't want to take it out once I'd written it. Besides that, for some reason, thinking about making Sif be the first person Harry ever kisses irks me.
Moving on, this was a fun chapter to write, and I liked getting Harry's thoughts on other people moving on with their lives into it. I admit a bit of my own insecurities probably came into play with how he was feeling, but I won't apologize for that. I love Neville, he's always been one of my favorite characters in the HP series, and it was nice to be able to have him be the one to help ease Harry's troubles.
As for the Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint, eh, I'm a fan of the pairing. Besides that, it occurred to me that while Harry is bisexual, and understands that anyone can be with anyone regardless of gender, he's never had any direct interation with anyone involved in a same-gender relationship. I wanted for him to see that, and for it to be people he knew. I considered turning Draco, Blaise, and Daphne into a sort of threesome, but I didn't like how it turned out when I tried to write those interactions.
Going back up the chapter a bit, to the dinner at the Malfoy home, the only thing I really have to say about it, in case anyone questions this, is that Andromeda and her sister were able to reconcile their differences after the war, and so she and her daughter, and sometimes Teddy and/or Remus, get invited to the manor on occasion. With Daphne being partnered with Tonks (and let's say that Draco and his wife and son live there in Malfoy Manor, and it's big enough that they can avoid the elder Malfoys for days if they feel so inclined), that relationship is strengthened.
I think that's all I have to say about this chapter, so go on ahead to the next one.