November 15th, 2002
He's slightly scandalised when the guy from the control check lets him go without even glancing at his passport but stops Ben, who passes him his driving license with a bored expression. Harry looks over his shoulder with a frown, but Ben waves him off, like it happens all the time. That must be annoying. Is dark skin really enough reason to raise suspicion? Outrageous.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight BA0830 from London Heathrow to Dublin..."
"Do you want to sit by the window?" Ben asks because he knows Harry's never flown before, or at least that he's never been abroad, which means the same thing.
"...Thank you for choosing British Airways."
He looks through the window, waiting for the take-off with a slightly nervous air about him. Which is absurd; he loves flying on his own. Sitting in a machine in the air should be a piece of cake.
Despite already being on the plane, he still can't fully believe that he's really doing it. The night he and Ben had The Conversation, he probably wouldn't have even mentioned it on his own, but after successfully distracting both of them with sex, and then once more upstairs in the bedroom just in case, Ben suggested that maybe they should go somewhere. That since Harry had been a nervous wreck for who knows how many weeks and Ben was supposed to work on his trust issues, a trip together could do them some good. Harry wasn't convinced at first; he wasn't much of a traveller, and he didn't know how going somewhere random was supposed to help with anything. But since Ben had already come up with the idea, he told him about his cousin's wedding without much thought.
The first thing Ben asked was whether their presence wouldn't upset anyone, and it was really fucking sad that it was a completely valid question. So Harry started with good news that he'd been told that Dudley's future wife's family was very open-minded before moving on to the bad news that there would be three people there who he didn't have the best relationship with. No relationship at all, actually. Who utterly despised him, to be honest. Ben was rather dismayed at that and asked if he could be rude to them, to which Harry suggested just trying to not interact with them at all. It was supposed to be Dudley's day. They should avoid making a scene at all costs.
And they're in the air. The feeling is uncomfortable, but not even half as uncomfortable as apparition, and it goes away after a couple of minutes. Harry watches as London disappears behind them, feeling strangely small. After a while, the clouds get a little boring, so he puts the earbud in and offers another one to Ben, who shakes his head with a smile and opens a book. Harry glances at what he's reading—'The Secret Life of Bees,' what the fuck? Ben is so weird—before randomly choosing a song. Radiohead. Psychedelic enough for being thirty-five thousand feet above sea level.
His mind is mostly occupied by the upcoming weekend and how much of a disaster it's going to be. They're only staying till Sunday evening, and even to that Robards had to magnanimously agree, with Roderick adding the condition that Harry is to keep his phone on him at all times and pop over in case he's needed. He has no idea how he would explain something like that to Ben, so he hopes it just doesn't happen. The wedding is tomorrow, and then they have the whole Sunday to sightsee. Which sounds very relaxing. No reason to be apprehensive at all.
Maybe if he could force his brain to stay on the task and stop wandering in different directions. Towards the Whistleblowers, the latest mystery. Towards the muggle toxicologists studying the doxy eggs David was poisoned with and trying to figure out what they are. Towards Cameron's last questioning session, where he admitted that he and David had been friends at Hogwarts and that together they'd decided to leave the wizarding world behind a year after their graduation, once they'd heard what happened to Cedric. That the moment it was safe to come back, Cameron felt compelled to do so and contribute to the rebuilding of the wizarding society by starting the Magical Tribune, but David firmly refused and couldn't have been convinced. That after that, they still kept in touch occasionally, but not nearly as often as before. Harry feels there's a connection there he just can't see. Why would a pureblood kill a muggleborn who doesn't taint the wizarding world with their presence? Why would a muggle be killing their own people while hinting at magic? All the unanswered questions keep giving him a headache.
'Karma Police' is just starting to play in his ears when Ben pokes him. "Already?" Harry blinks, hearing the stewardess requesting everyone to fasten their seatbelts. This has been anticlimactic.
"Was it that bad?" Ben asks once they're allowed to leave, taking both their suits, his bag, and Harry's backpack with him.
Harry rolls his eyes and relieves him. "It was alright," he mumbles. "Do you want to grab coffee?"
"Sure," Ben says, steering them towards the exit. "We want you to function," he adds with amusement.
"Ha," Harry drawls sarcastically.
Dudley is already waiting for them in all his glory when they emerge. He stares at Ben with surprise for a moment while Harry is clutching his paper cup, and Ben looks slightly stumped, probably because they do not look alike in the slightest. But then Dudley smiles, and the awkward moment is over.
He keeps talking when they cross the main terminal. "It's so great that you're both here. The house has been a circus, I'm telling you. I hope you like the hotel." Harry sees no point in protesting again that he could have taken care of their own accommodation. Dudley is clearly happy to be of service. "It's a two-hour drive," he says, opening his trunk to put their bags away. Harry gulps. Two hours of being trapped in a car sounds quite terrible.
Turns out it's not that bad. Ben and Dudley might not have a lot in common, but they're both the kind of people who can easily make friends with anyone. They have no problem chatting about the increasing rent prices in London, the firefighters going on strike, and the lousy social medical care. Additionally, Dudley monologues about his kid a lot and keeps dragging Harry into a conversation by asking about his godson. Considering that Harry wasn't very present for the first months of Teddy's life—they were still at war when he was born, and then they were rebuilding Hogwarts, and then Harry was back for his eighth year—and that Teddy is not exactly a regular kid—the most problematic things about him were his tendency to throw tantrums during the full moon and his abruptly changing face—he doesn't have lots of parenting advice to offer.
The city of Galway looks picturesque and rather cosy, as does their hotel once they park. It's early evening already. Dudley is in the middle of inviting himself to do some sightseeing with them when his phone rings, and whoever is on the other side—most likely Shiv or her mother, some angry lady in any case—demands he come back. So he leaves them with some ideas for cool places to visit and a promise to catch up tomorrow.
"You two are as different as two cousins can be," Ben observes, following Harry inside.
"We didn't get along growing up," Harry admits, passing his passport to the receptionist.
"Really? You seemed pretty friendly just now."
The check-in is quick, and soon they're loading into the elevator. "Well, we're both adults." Harry shrugs.
"Why don't you use your driving license?" Ben asks out of the blue, and Harry's about to tell him that he doesn't have one, but then he freezes. Ben's seen him riding his motorcycle—he doesn't do that very often, and Ben refuses to get on the thing, but still—and he still hasn't gotten a driving license, because he's an idiot. He will need to rectify that as soon as he's back in London.
He looks down at his passport. "Erm..." But then the elevator door opens, and he's rescued... No, this isn't a rescue; this is a peril. Dudley might be a decent guy these days, but he's still not the sharpest knife in the drawer if he thought putting his parents and Harry at the same hotel was a good idea.
"Oh. Diddy mentioned you'd be here." She looks like she's swallowed a lemon. She also looks old and quite pitiful.
"Yeah, he mentioned you'd be too," Harry says nonchalantly, not about to let this frail, plain woman intimidate him.
She bristles. "Why, of course we'd..." she breaks off when her gaze fixes on Ben. "Another freak?"
Ben straightens. "Excuse me?" He looks down at her with his eyebrows raised indignantly.
"No," Harry says shortly, grasping Ben's elbow to pull him away from this uncomfortable encounter. "Please refrain from insulting my boyfriend."
Petunia squints at them both, and Harry shakes his head at her, telling her silently to keep her mouth shut. Finally her eyes widen, and it's almost funny to watch her internal battle—there are many things she must find offensive about Ben, starting with his skin colour, his sexual orientation, and his proximity to Harry, but being a freak is not one of them. He wonders whether being normal is enough to win in the Dursleys' book.
She barks a shrill, gleeful laugh. "Oh, boy, you better run as fast as you can. You don't want to get mixed up with the likes of this one."
"What did you say?" Ben snaps quite aggressively, protection mode immediately on. Harry wants to rub his face tiredly.
"That boy isn't who he claims he is. He's an abomination. He will wreck your entire life and destroy everything you hold dear. Mark my words."
Ben gapes at her like he can't believe what is spouting out of her mouth.
"Don't listen to her," Harry sighs, dragging him away from the elevator. "Lovely seeing you," he drawls sarcastically at Petunia.
By the time Ben snaps out of his shock, the woman is long gone, and they're standing in front of their room. "Who the fuck does she think she is?" he exclaims, outraged.
"My aunt," Harry mutters, letting them both inside. "She raised me. So she'd know, wouldn't she?" He laughs self-deprecatingly.
Ben stops and looks at him with wide eyes. "No, I don't think she would," he says firmly. He falls silent and bites his lip uncertainly. "She was filling your head with this crap when you were a kid?" he asks quietly. Harry makes a vague gesture between nodding and shrugging. "How are you so normal?" he blurts out.
Harry snorts, loving the irony. "Why do you think I go to therapy once a week?" he jokes, even though it's not really true. He spoke about the Dursleys exactly once. It's not something that bothers him very much anymore. Sure, he's angry whenever he thinks about it, but then he just ceases thinking about it. He's much more bitter about wizards who fucked him over because he expected better treatment from them in the first place. "Don't you want to know why?" he asks boldly to mask his anxiousness.
Ben scoffs. "I'm not interested in the whys of people like her. She took me by surprise. Next time, I'll be prepared for her," he promises fiercely.
Harry simultaneously melts and abandons all hope for a peaceful wedding. "Please, don't argue with her. It's pointless." At least he doesn't think there's any danger of Aunt Petunia spilling the beans. The words would probably stick in her throat.
"You know that she's full of shit, right?" Ben asks carefully.
"Of course." Something must ring false in his voice, because Ben closes in on Harry and pushes him gently.
"She's full of shit," he repeats stubbornly, cupping his face.
Harry's back hits the door. He's been too focused on the conversation to properly check out the room before. It's quite lovely. "I know," he confirms, amused, but still pulls him closer.
"Good," Ben murmurs while his hands wander down Harry's body. "You're beautiful, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with you."
Harry scoffs bashfully. He's not addressing that one. There's plenty wrong with him, and he's passable at best. "Didn't you want to go get dinner?" he tries to redirect him.
"And do you know what that means?" Ben asks rhetorically, like he hasn't heard him at all. "It means that she's full of shit," he answers his own question.
Harry laughs loudly.
November 16th, 2002
They come over around noon. At first, Harry feels like he's in the Burrow, given the overwhelming number of redheads running around the house and making way too much noise. He's not sure where to start looking for Dudley in this ruckus until the scream of a baby joins the cacophony. It's a pretty good indication.
"Of course I would rather have Harry watch her than your mother!" A woman's voice yells. Harry pauses momentarily at the sound of his name before yanking Ben upstairs.
"You've barely even met him!" Dudley protests loudly, trying to speak over the crying baby. "Where is your sister?"
"She said something about the flowers and stormed off. And I know as much as you told me. He sounds lovely. Unlike your mother, who I know is horrible. Call him," Shiv, most likely, orders Dudley. The baby curiously falls silent.
Harry knocks. "Erm... no need," he says timidly, opening the door but not going inside yet.
"Hey! You're here!" Shiv beams. Her hair looks even brighter than Harry remembers. "And you must be Ben. Wow, you're so tall," she observes happily. She's rather tiny, unlike the baby in her arms, which is obviously Dudley's when it comes to size. "Have you ever held a baby before?" she asks Harry.
"Yeah?" he says hesitantly.
"Okay, great, here you go." Unceremoniously, she passes Harry the baby before grabbing Dudley's sleeve. "Run, quickly!"
Harry automatically holds Marigold to his chest while Dudley digs his heels in and exclaims, "You can't just drop babies on people!" But he sounds so fond; he must be really crazy about her. Ben is choking on laughter.
"Watch me," Shiv scoffs before addressing Harry again. "Thirty minutes, tops. She's fed, she's changed, just rock her a little. If you don't know what to do, my dad is downstairs, but he's already reached his limit of babysitting. You're doing great."
This time Dudley lets himself be dragged out of the room, and suddenly they're alone with the baby. Harry glances helplessly at Ben, who looks just as stunned as he feels.
"She has a point. You are doing pretty great," he remarks, watching Harry, who at some point started to instinctively sway slowly, looking down into pale blue eyes. Marigold isn't crying anymore, just gurgling with a toothless smile, and suddenly he wonders if she's magic. There's something about her, and it's definitely not out of the realm of possibility, but maybe not. Maybe it's just the magic of a new life, regardless of its genetic combination.
"It's so weird that she's family," he says absently. "Do you want to hold her?" he asks Ben.
"Nah. One minute you take someone's infant, and the next you're being sued," he chuckles.
Harry rolls his eyes. "You're damaged."
"Do you want one?" Ben asks out of the blue.
"What?" Harry asks, thinking that he's misheard.
Ben shrugs innocently. "Just checking if you're going to leave me for a woman anytime soon. It's a constant fear," he explains seriously.
Harry gives him a sceptical look. No, it's not. He looks down at the baby once more. The mere thought is scary as fuck. "Maybe," he says softly. "Do you?"
When he glances at Ben's face, he's sure that he's never seriously considered it until this very moment. "I could be convinced," he says nonchalantly.
Harry knows he needs to retreat fast. "So, how do we get one?" he asks jokingly.
Ben grins and leans towards him. "By trying very hard," he whispers, and Harry starts to shake with laughter. Marigold doesn't need to know what's going on to also enjoy the atmosphere and coo some more.
Luckily, nothing drastic happens by the time Shiv and Dudley come back. Someone downstairs scolds them that they're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony, to which they both snap that they have an infant and to leave them alone. Harry and Ben are told to walk to the church along with a bunch of random people. Harry's fingers are twitching to light up a cigarette, but he refrains.
He can't remember when was the last time he was in a church. And then he can remember—Colin's funeral—and forces himself to forget again. Still, he's not sure if he's ever been in a Catholic one before. He can't really tell them apart. Ben is frowning slightly at the imposing building.
"Are you Catholic?" Harry asks out of the blue, realising that he doesn't know.
Ben smiles faintly. "My parents are Methodists. Me? I'm a Buddhist."
Harry blinks. "Like, officially?" Because he knows that it's the source of most of Ben's personal beliefs and practices, like not eating meat, meditating, and not drinking, but he's thought it's rather noncommittal. More like a philosophy than a religion.
Ben hesitates. "It's not really how you'd picture converting. Once you recognise that Buddha's teachings are the only ones that make sense in this crazy world and start to follow them, you're already a Buddhist. After that, you can either just continue to live in accordance with it or keep studying. Empty rituals don't really play a big role." He shrugs, and Harry ponders it for a minute. It doesn't sound half bad. "But yeah, officially. Mostly, I didn't want to have anything to do with this anymore." He tilts his head towards the church with an uneasy expression. "My parents are very matter-of-fact about it. They go through the motions and then shit on everything it's supposed to be about. I'm not a fan of the hypocrisy part." Yeah, Harry wouldn't be either. "What about you?"
"Oh." Harry glances at the guy on the cross sceptically. Maybe he was just a wizard who decided to help muggles, and they started to follow him. Only it's said that he resurrected people, including himself. That would be fun if it turned out that the whole thing started with necromancy. He should probably never mention this theory to anyone. People tend to be oversensitive about it. "I'm a firm nonbeliever, I guess." So he's seen some sort of afterlife waiting room—or maybe it was just an elaborate hallucination—and he's been vaguely aware of his own soul's existence in relation to another soul that got stuck to it. That doesn't tell him all that much about the secrets of the universe.
"Yeah," Ben mutters, like it doesn't surprise him in the slightest, before turning to kiss the side of Harry's head briefly. A scoff is heard from behind their backs, and Harry looks up to meet the gaze of Vernon Dursley, who is just passing them along with his equally large sister.
Harry keeps the eye contact without blinking until they disappear in the church. "My aunt and uncle are Anglicans, though," he tells Ben casually. "As were my parents. I think," he adds upon reflection. At least he figures that his mom was. He has no idea about the Potters.
"Was that him?" Ben asks in a hard tone. He doesn't even know that much about the Dursleys, and he already looks very tempted to break some of his Buddhist oaths. Harry nods tiredly.
They follow the others inside and stand out of the way near the back wall. The wedding procession comes in, some candles are lit, and the mass starts. Harry twitches nervously.
"Just do what everyone else is doing," Ben whispers into his ear.
Harry complies, feeling stupid. "Did Dudley have to become Catholic to do it here?"
Ben frowns. "Not if he was baptised, I think."
Harry hums with curiosity. "Do they not like each other?" he asks, watching the rigid way his aunt and uncle are sitting in the first row. On the other hand, they're always rigid.
Ben gives him a judgemental look, as he tends to do when Harry says something particularly ignorant. "It wasn't really a religious war, but the Troubles didn't help with the tension between English and Northern Irish Protestants and Irish Catholics. It's not like the Good Friday Agreement made it all magically disappear." Harry desperately tries to look like he knows what he's talking about, but Ben, as always, sees right through him. His eyes narrow. "How exactly does one fight a mysterious terrorist organisation in Great Britain in the nineties without encountering the IRA at all?" he asks slowly.
Harry looks straight ahead. "Shh, this is important," he hushes him to evade the question, pretending to be focused on whatever the priest is saying. Ben's lips curl into a disbelieving smile as he shakes his head.
Shiv looks pretty; she's in white and blue, and her hair is braided. Dudley looks like, underneath all that he's wearing, he's sweating profusely. Comparing to the mass, the vows are quick. Harry thinks it's kind of nice. Well, the idea of getting married to someone without this whole production is nice. He gives Ben a furtive glance. Maybe bringing him here has been a mistake. There's no point in wallowing in impossible dreams.
Soon everybody is cheering and the pipes are playing, so Harry and Ben stop trying to pretend that they're part of the wall and follow the rest outside. On to the party then.
They fall behind so Harry can smoke. "I wonder what Ron and Hermione's wedding will look like," he says absently. "It's not going to be in a church at least. I think." He frowns. "Should I be more involved and know those things?"
"Are you the best man?" Ben asks. Harry nods. "Then no. You need to show up with some sort of ID on you." Harry snorts. "When is it?"
"April." Which is in five months. His heart skips a beat. It most likely won't be a muggle wedding. Hermione is only inviting the members of her family that are in the know, which are her parents and her mother's sister's family, the ones who made a ruckus when the Grangers decided to abruptly skip to Australia without notifying anyone and reported them missing to whoever wanted to listen to them. If he wants to bring Ben to the wedding—does he?—then he needs to make him aware within the next five months of what craziness he should expect. Which is certainly going to lead to both legal issues and relationship issues on Harry's part.
"Are you going to be okay?" Ben's question snaps Harry out of his reverie, and he realises that they've reached the venue. He looks around, and wow, that's a lot of whisky.
"Yeah," he says firmly. Whisky brings back especially bad memories. If it were tequila, he might be tempted.
They eat their food with a bunch of random gingers. There's a toast or seven, then people start to dance, and Shiv comes over to kidnap them.
"Do you want to dance, doll?"
"The only dance I'm any good at is the sex-imitating one," Harry mutters.
"Please wait until most old people are either gone or drunk," Shiv requests, and Harry goes red after realising that she's heard him. "You're coming, Ben?" she encourages him before glancing questioningly at Harry, who waves them on. She grabs Ben's hands and yanks him towards the middle of the room.
They're doing pretty good, considering that there's a lot of tap dancing going on, and Harry watches them for a while until Dudley grabs his elbow and drags him outside. His eyes are bright, and he looks like he's drunk with excitement. It's nice to see him that way.
"Mate! First, what is that?" He pulls a small item out of his pocket, and Harry starts to doubt the appropriateness of his gift.
"It's a candy dispenser," he answers truthfully, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know there might be some bad connotations here, but I thought, with your attitude towards us lately, you'd like to have... something. Don't worry, they're safe, and you're not going to run out."
Dudley's eyes bulge. "What, like, ever?"
Harry shrugs. "The charm might wear out after a couple of years," he whispers apologetically. "Come on, I know how much you love candy."
"A couple of years!" Dudley echoes, stunned, before barking a laugh. "Mate! I'm trying to watch my weight here!"
Harry smirks. "Then it's fortunate that they turn back to water after you eat them. No extra calories."
Dudley's jaw drops. "You're shitting me!"
"Just tell Shiv it's an inside joke, and people will think you keep refilling it."
"This is like, the coolest thing I've ever owned," Dudley exclaims, looking down at the little bubble filled with colourful sweets in his hands. Then his delighted smile drops, and Harry knows what's coming. "Listen, this is way too much—"
"Just consider it an apology gift for how very smug I felt when you told me your parents are not in any position to help you out," Harry cuts him off smoothly with the prepared line.
Dudley's lips twitch back towards a smile. "Come on, man, that's not... I used to treat you as badly as they did. You can't just—"
"That was then. Now you've somehow, against all odds, turned out to be a decent human being. That's a fucking achievement. Besides, don't be dramatic; it's not like I've set you up for life. Just go on a nice honeymoon or buy something for Marigold."
Dudley shakes his head before rubbing his eyes and sniffing. Oh, shit.
"What's going on here?" Shiv's head peeks out from behind the door. Her eyes get big. "Oh, no, why are we crying? I can't cry! I'll ruin my makeup!"
"No one tells you to cry!" Dudley snaps at her, still slightly choked.
She gives him an unimpressed look. "If you're crying, I'm going to start crying," she says matter-of-factly.
Dudley throws his hands up. "Fuck it! What am I even supposed to tell her?" he asks Harry hysterically.
"No!" Shiv exclaims suddenly. "Listen, lad, we've barely been married for three hours. Whatever it is, I don't wanna hear it."
"Just tell her you've got a filthy rich cousin," Harry suggests innocently.
Shiv tilts her head. "Do we?" she asks with sudden interest. Her eyes get wide when she understands the implications. "Harry Potter, what have you done?"
It's like everyone he meets sooner or later learns to react to him in an exact same way. "Actually, there is something I'd like to do," he tells her conspiratorially before leading her away, leaving Dudley behind. "Do you want to see Dudley's dad get really red?"
"Yes," she answers immediately. "Always."
They sneak back inside, and Harry glances around the room. "Where's Ben?"
"My mom adopted him," Shiv says, pointing to where Ben is indeed talking to a slightly tipsy-looking redheaded lady. He excuses himself and moves to join them when he sees Harry, whose gaze is scanning the crowd. Here he is, all by his lonesome self. Perfect.
"If I look like I need a rescue, make a diversion," he whispers to Ben when he's within earshot.
"Like what?" Ben frowns, not knowing what's going on.
"I don't know, pretend you have an appendicitis or something." Harry shrugs, still eyeing Vernon with burning determination.
Ben catches up on his plan by following his gaze and doesn't look amused. "How about I go talk to him, and you pretend to have appendicitis if needed?" he suggests mildly.
"You can't. You're gonna get kicked out of the Buddhist club."
Shiv laughs hysterically, and Ben hides his face in his hands, which muffles his protests. "I'm not going to hit anybody!"
"You say that now," Harry mutters, gathering courage. Alright, here goes.
He crosses the room confidently and slides into the seat next to Vernon, who looks at him like he's a bomb that is about to explode. "Hi," he says with a smile. "It's been ages, huh?"
The older man looks around wildly. "Yeah, they can see us," Harry tells him seriously. "I can make them not to, if you want?" he suggests innocently.
Now Vernon's heated gaze fixes right at Harry. "Listen, you little freak—"
"Oh, so we're making a scene?" Harry interrupts in a tone indicating that he's all for it. The man hesitates. The vein in his temple is pulsing dangerously. "No?" Harry guesses blankly. "Thought so. So, how have you been doing since my people worked so hard to save your arse?" he asks brightly, like he's talking about the weather.
Vernon squints at him angrily. "If it wasn't for you—" he starts, getting more and more red with every word.
"Oh, stop with the delusions already," Harry scoffs. "I didn't send anyone after you. No one was obligated to rescue you. It was all magical people's goodwill, so you should show some appreciation."
"We didn't deserve—" Vernon hisses through his teeth.
"If people got what they deserved, you'd be six feet under," Harry cuts in impassively. "But I've heard there is some karma at play. How are your... what was it? Drills?"
Vernon's face freezes in outrage. He's completely red in the face now but seems unable to do much more than stare at Harry hatefully. He can't communicate in a way that doesn't involve screaming. There's something so impotent about his rage that Harry can't help but smile. "I'm doing great, thanks for asking," he adds blithely, leaning against the chair to appear even more nonchalant. He's not normally one for bragging, but he knows where to hit to hurt Vernon the most. "I've bought a new place in London. My old house was a little bit too dreary for my tastes. And you shouldn't worry about Dudley either. I gifted him a little something for his new life. I figured he shouldn't be deprived only because his parents fell short, you know?" He can't believe how petty he's being. He's having a blast, and Vernon looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. "Oh, and by the way, have you met my boyfriend?"
He smiles at Ben and gives him a little wave. Ben doesn't smile back; he's staring straight at Vernon, doing quite a spectacular job at looking big, imposing, and menacing, with Shiv choking on laughter behind his back. He resembles an angel of vengeance in a perfectly tailored suit. Harry feels a bit like swooning. "He's a lawyer," he adds happily.
Vernon shifts nervously, muttering under his breath something that sounds like 'perverts,' 'dirty,' and 'freaks.'
"Oh yeah." Harry nods sympathetically. "Magic queer freaks of colour should rule the world. I agree wholeheartedly."
Vernon suddenly gets his voice back. It's only taken him ten minutes or so. "So you could bring more depravity, degeneration, and anarchy into the lives of normal people?" he snarls. "Not doing your job very well, huh?"
Look at that, Vernon's done his homework. Or Dudley tried to fight a losing battle. "Like your people don't have wars. Or kill each other. Here's a controversial notion: magic has nothing to do with being a douchebag. There are some wonderful wizards out there, but there are also a lot of arseholes. Just like there are plenty of awesome muggles, like your son, or his wife, or my boyfriend. And then there's you. Just a massive, insipid, lobotomised, saggy sack of shit with its own gravitational pull and an IQ of a room temperature, whose biggest achievement is making a little kid's life a living hell, and even at that you failed, as we can see." Harry grins at him briefly. "You know, you've actually been so bad that you've managed to turn me off muggles for a while. It's a good thing that I'm smarter than that. Nice chat, Vernon."
He stands up and casually walks away from the table, feeling like his legs are made out of cotton wool. The best revenge is to live well. Live well, Potter. And if you can't yet, then fake it till you make it.
Marge passes him on her way back to her brother and sends him a poisonous look. Harry hears her asking, "What did he want? Did you tell him off, Vernon?"
"Oh, yeah, Marge," his uncle grumbles. "I've put him in his place."
Harry manages to smirk with what's left of his strength before his expression crumbles.
"Are you okay?" Ben asks as soon as he reaches him.
Harry swallows heavily. "I think I'm going to throw up," he admits faintly.
Shiv does something—it's not a very successful attempt, as she seems to simultaneously pretend to have appendicitis and to lose her earring, but most of the attention does focus on her so Ben can grab Harry's hand and quickly guide him outside.
He doesn't throw up, just retches slightly, feeling lightheaded. A hand touches his hair, and he grimaces slightly. "I'm so proud of you," Ben mutters into his ear from where he's looming behind him. Harry closes his eyes, trying to force his body to relax.
"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" He hears and moves away from Ben. There's a little girl speaking to him—maybe not so little, thirteen or so. Surprisingly, she's not a redhead. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were..." she breaks uncertainly. "I just wanted to say that my mom and I are huge fans. You're just... you're an inspiration to all of us."
Harry shoots a quick, panicked glance towards Ben, who looks baffled. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insists, giving her a pointed look. "You must have mistaken me for someone else."
She gives Ben a furtive look while her mouth falls open and her eyes grow big. She shifts uncomfortably before glancing at Harry expectantly, like she's waiting for him to dismiss the muggle. When he doesn't, she sighs and steps to the left so that Harry stands between them, which is useless, because Ben is taller than him, and it doesn't really make her hidden from his view. Harry's eyes follow her movements with alarm as she pulls a piece of paper from her bag. "Right. Well, would you, a random person at a wedding, mind signing this for me?" She even adds a little knowing wink.
He wants to groan. "Do you really carry it around with you?" he exclaims with disbelief, gaping at his wanted poster. At least she has enough sense to fold it so that only 'Undesirable No. 1' and the top of his forehead are visible.
She grins proudly, completely misunderstanding his comment. "I popped back home real quick."
Harry refrains from facepalming and takes the pen from her. "What's your name?" he asks in defeat.
"Riley," she says, almost vibrating with excitement. Harry reflexively adds a short dedication to his signature before straightening up. He doesn't want to turn back to Ben. Ever. "Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to us." Then she lowers her voice, and oh Merlin, she's still talking. "They were all over the old town. I was only nine, but I woke up early every morning to go around and tear them off. Others did too. Galway's always stood behind you, Mr. Potter," she assures him fiercely.
Harry huffs, feeling a sudden sting in the corner of his eye. "I appreciate it. Now get lost before I start crying," he warns her jokingly.
She beams once again, utters another thrilled 'thank you' and quickly skips off. Harry rubs his forehead before slowly turning around. Ben is looking at the night sky, like he's either praying for patience or expecting the answer to fall down straight on his head.
It would probably be prudent for Harry to go back inside and not be left alone with Ben's inquisitiveness, but he doesn't really feel like it. "Do you want to go to the beach?" he asks casually.
Ben lets out a strangled laugh. "Sure. We might have had enough excitement for now." He simply takes Harry's hand and starts to lead him towards where he thinks the shore is. Harry goes willingly, a strong feeling of absolute listlessness lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, like he's just a frozen-in-place, helpless thing surrounded by powers that are way out of his control.
"So, that happened," he hears Ben's voice as if from afar.
"Can I somehow convince you that it didn't?" Harry asks in a small voice.
Ben gives him an incredulous look. "No," he says firmly.
"Shame," Harry mutters.
"You just... you don't make any sense," Ben says, frustration visibly filling his whole being. Harry closes his eyes to not have to deal with it, letting Ben guide him forward and feeling more detached with every step he takes.
"Realistically, what's the worst thing that could happen if you told me whatever it is that you refuse to tell me?" Ben asks determinedly.
"Your head would explode," Harry says carelessly.
Ben laughs, like it's a joke. "What if I'm willing to risk it?"
What if I'm not? Harry thinks, opening his eyes. There's a pier right in front of them. And not far behind it, a beach.
"At this point, if you're able to provide any explanation that will make all of it fit, no matter what madness it involves, I'm going to eat my tie."
Harry snorts absently. "I'll hold you to that." He feels like the walls are closing on him, only there are no walls, just the open space. The field behind him and the ocean in front of him.
"Ah, good. You sound confident," Ben quips. Harry doesn't feel like he sounds confident at all. He's not sure if he's making any sounds. No more sounds seem to reach him at least, yet somehow he thinks he's still walking.
The field. The ocean. He buried Dobby on a beach like this one. The ocean was calm, just like it is now. He kept digging late into the night until it got dark. Like it is now. Hermione was quietly crying somewhere with her arm cut open. Just like David's arm. Like the arm of the girl murdered in the Highlands. Like Harry's arm in the graveyard. Just arms covered in blood, and the field, and the ocean. If he looks over his shoulder, there will be the Shell Cottage behind him, and if he focuses really hard, he will feel the familiar almost-presence at the back of his mind.
His hands are getting clammy, and he knows that they're all going to die if he doesn't do something. His vision is getting blurry. He should be doing more, and he would if only he could just stop for a minute and think. But there's no stopping. They're running out of time. It's getting chilly. Nobody and nowhere is safe. Is he alone? Is everybody else gone already? The ocean and the field darken around the edges, and he desperately tries to blink but finds out that he can't. He can only stare deep into the darkness like he used to when he was a kid. He's alone, and everything is lost. Just like Voldemort wants to. Just like the Renegade Killer wants to. Just like the Dursleys want to.
Wait, the Renegade Killer and Voldemort can't both exist at the same time. It's wrong. There's some deceit there, but Harry can't tell what it is. Is he the source of deceit? He puts every effort into lifting his hand and touches his own face with numb fingers. It feels real.
A voice breaks the fog that surrounds him, and Harry nearly cries with relief. He's not alone after all. Someone is here in this hell with him. The words are an incomprehensible mess against the roaring in his ears, but after a while he manages to separate them. "Harry?" It's Ben. But neither the Shell Cottage nor the cupboard under the stairs is the right place for Ben. He can't be here.
"You can't be here," Harry tries to say, but he's not sure if he succeeds.
"Harry? Harry, you're having a panic attack. You need to breathe with me. Please. Come on, Harry, inhale with me for one, two, three..."
Is that what it is? That would explain it, and also not at all.
"...four, five, and hold for one, two. Now exhale, six, seven..."
Eight, nine, ten.
"You're safe, Harry. We're on the beach in Galway. We came for your cousin's wedding. It's November 2002. Now inhale again. One, two..."
Dudley? That doesn't make any sense. But he trusts Ben, so he complies. Three, four, five.
"And hold for one, two. Now exhale. That's good, Harry." Ben's right as always. The next breath seems easier. "Tell me what you can see."
The inside of the cupboard. Dobby's grave. No, these are not the right answers. Harry feels his own facial muscles fasten with effort when he tries to squint through his steamy glasses.
"Come on, Harry. What can you see? Tell me five things."
Five? That's way too many. He squints harder and manages to see something beyond the horrible images his brain produces. A light. No, wait. "A lighthouse," he corrects himself out loud. His voice sounds like he hasn't used it in years.
"Very good. There is a lighthouse. Because we're on the beach," Ben says simply. "What else?"
Harry thinks he starts to understand this game, so he lets his hand fall limply and tighten on something coarse and cold. "Sand." Only then does he realise that he's sitting on it. Weird, he thinks he's been walking.
"That's what you can feel. You're not looking at it," Ben corrects him gently.
Harry glares at him and discovers that he's crouching a small distance away with the look of intense concern on his face.
"Your tie. It's ridiculous," Harry rasps. It's true—it has little bumblebees on it.
Ben's whole face lights up with a smile. He starts to approach hesitantly but stops before his body has a chance to touch Harry's. "You're feeling better now?" he asks quietly.
Harry nods, rubbing his eyes and feeling the upcoming embarrassment. Shit. He hasn't had a panic attack in years. What the fuck. "I'm sorry. I'm such a mess," he mumbles.
The look Ben gives him is worryingly serious. "Harry. So maybe you are," he agrees easily, and Harry stiffens. Ben must decide he's safe to deal with now because he carefully reaches out to brush his hair away from his face. "But you went from confronting your childhood abuser, which already shook you up, to dealing with a fangirl in a matter of minutes. I'd be more concerned if it didn't affect you," he says with the same calmness he seems to go through life with. "Was it your uncle? Or the girl? Or me, asking too many questions?" he asks, visibly distressed by the last option.
Harry takes a deep breath. It's good to be able to do that again. "I buried someone on a beach like this one," he forces out, feeling another sting in his eye and cursing the circumstances that make him have to censor himself with the only person he wants to talk to.
Something strange crosses Ben's face before it smoothens back into worry, and Harry is willing to bet that he just thought of the legality of such an act. Because he's damaged, but he's also way too considerate to mention it. For some reason, this of all things breaks the dam, and Harry finds himself smiling. So he adds, before he can change his mind, "They kept me in a cupboard."
It plays in his head several times. 'I buried someone on a beach' and 'They kept me in a cupboard'. Put together, it sounds completely absurd, like he shouldn't be allowed among regular society. He wonders what Ben thinks of him.
Ben makes an aborted movement like his first instinct is to get up and walk away, but then he reconsiders. His face is blank, and he must decide that there is nothing that he can say that would make any difference, because he simply takes off his jacket and wraps it around Harry and then additionally wraps him in his arms. Harry appreciates it—he's been cold as fuck. And he has a headache. He also appreciates not talking; he just needed to put it out there.
"Thanks, B." He giggles hysterically, trailing his silly tie with his fingers. "Bee."
Ben smiles faintly. "It's better if we don't go back to the wedding," he says mildly, leaning against the sand and pulling Harry along so he can lean against him.
Harry's head now feels like it's about to break into little pieces, and something starts to stir under his skin, itching from the inside. His fingers tighten around the smooth material of Ben's tie, and it makes him feel slightly more grounded. "Why? Do you feel like hitting something?" he whispers knowingly.
Ben ponders it for a long moment. "I don't know. Would it change anything? They'd still be the same awful human beings, and it would only affirm them in their own inculpability. If it would make you feel better, then sure. Would it?"
Yeah, Harry's familiar with the feeling. He would like to somehow make the Dursleys understand how fucked up they are, but they simply don't seem to see it the same way he does. "Nah." Like always, Ben hit the nail right on the head. It's not like Harry doesn't have ways to make their lives miserable, but tormenting them won't make them pull a Dudley and apologise. Nothing will. They have their own truth. "The best revenge is to live well," he repeats out loud. The pressure starts to throb slightly somewhere behind his eyes, and he shivers despite the extra jacket and Ben's body heat.
"Yeah. That," Ben agrees with a little kiss to the back of his head. Apart from the sudden rigidness of Harry's body, he doesn't seem to sense anything out of order, and Harry considers pulling away because to him the air around him feels volatile and charged. His magic is angry and confused, and it clearly wants out, but Ben is right here, oblivious to it and completely vulnerable. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, vibrating with tension and scared shitless that he's going to crack and hurt him.
Diane told him to take deep breaths and count in his head. Healer Pullman told him to let the magic out in a harmless way instead of keeping it in. The first technique doesn't work, so he thinks really hard about the ocean and the night sky above it, about how they've been coexisting together for aeons through heat exchange. It shouldn't hurt to add some, so he does what lately has become easier than breathing.
"Oh, wow. Look," Ben says a moment later, so Harry opens his eyes. Huh. He tilts his head. Now that's pretty. He's not very well-versed in romance on his best day, much less right after a panic attack, but this time he feels like he hit the jackpot. "It's almost unheard of to see it so far south. And so bright so close to the city? Weird," Ben remarks with a frown.
Or not. Harry glares at him mockingly. "You're really hard to impress sometimes."
It takes Ben a minute to register his words. "Wait, what?" But Harry just looks back to the sky, leaving him to figure out what he's meant on his own.
November 17th, 2002
"Sorry. We probably weren't the best wedding guests," Harry says self-deprecatingly. He's feeling a little hungover today—not alcohol hungover, panic attack hungover—so he's wearing a baseball cap and trying not to look up much.
Shiv scoffs. "Are you kidding me? You gave us a shitload of money and pissed off my annoying in-laws. As far as I'm concerned, you're my new favourite person," she says with conviction in between stuffing herself with bacon. They're having breakfast in town. Marigold is sleeping peacefully in her stroller. Harry's been told that she was an angel last night with whoever was charged with watching her. Shiv is practically glowing, even though she looks tired.
"It wasn't a shitload," Harry protests, turning slightly red.
She gives him a judgemental look. "See, now you sound like an obnoxious rich person," she points out. "Which is the only reason I'm actually willing to accept it."
Before Harry has a chance to reply, Ben and Dudley return. "We've got the bikes," Ben announces triumphantly. When Harry told him this morning that he'd never ridden a bike, Ben pointed out that he'd ridden a motorbike, which should be close enough. So they're going biking, for which Harry is actually quite excited.
"Luv, has Ben told you that he's involved in the suit against that awful company I used to intern for?" Shiv asks Dudley before telling him all about it. Ben jumps in here and there while Harry mostly watches them silently. Once Shiv finishes her breakfast, she mentions offhandedly, "Hey, have you guys seen the northern lights last night? I say, if that's not a great sign for us, I don't know what would be."
Harry smiles, glad that someone else enjoyed it, while Ben gives him a slightly quizzical side glance. If he spent half of the last night wondering how likely it is that his boyfriend somehow lit up the sky, Harry spent it turning his attitude around. Now he kind of just wants Ben to guess so they can get over it. It's hopeless, it's happening one way or another, and Ben is clearly suffering trying to put it all together. He should just figure it out and remove Harry's dilemma.
"Where do you want to go, doll?" Ben asks, opening the map Shiv provided for them and snapping Harry out of his reverie.
He puts his chin on his shoulder to see. "How about Merlin Meadows?" he suggests innocently. Dudley chokes on his coffee.
"Mhm, sounds good," Ben mutters obliviously, the hint flying right over his head.
Harry huffs. Just guess already.