There's just the epilogue left now and I'm only just getting to start on the editing. So November is still my goal to have this completed by. Work keeps me busy folks and the epilogue needs some work. Hope you enjoy this update though.

This fic does not have a Beta, so all mistakes are my mistakes. As a note this fic a scene from this chapter was removed as to not violate the TOS, the chapter can be read in full on AO3.

Mycroft, Harry, and Sherlock brought in the new year in the same fashion that they brought in the last one; seated in a empty alley with a not so great view of the fireworks. Sherlock had disappeared when the fireworks had ended, leaving Harry and Mycroft to head home together. As they entered Mycroft's residence Harry was pulled into Mycroft's embrace and kissed senseless.

"Happy New Year to you too." Harry laughed as he caught his breath.

Mycroft looked almost shy. "Stay with me."

Harry pulled Mycroft into the bedroom and closed the door. "You wouldn't ask if you meant just the night." Harry looked up at Mycroft's face and read the uncertainty.

"That is correct."

"Ask me properly?" Harry asked with a sly smile as he held out his hand, palm up.

Mycroft's stature became determined and he gripped Harry's hand pulling him close. "Harry James Potter, will you live with me?"

"Yes." Harry breathed, relief settling in his bones. He gave Mycroft a peck on the cheek and turned towards the bathroom. "Why don't you take Tribble and Bishop to another room and get them settled. I need a shower."

He listened as Mycroft gathered their critters while Harry undressed and turned on the shower. The room became steamy and warm quickly as he entered the open style shower stall and quickly adjusted the shower heads. Harry let his mind drift as he scrubbed off the feeling of dirt and grime that never really left from all the time he'd spent living on the streets. It'd taken ten years to get to this place, but Harry finally felt like he had a real home again and it was the best home yet. Harry knew it might not make sense to others, Mycroft and even Sherlock would put you through your paces before they even considered allowing you to get close, but it was well and truly worth it.

Harry came to, spread eagle on the bed and shivering at the pass of a cooled wash cloth over his chest and thighs. He blinked owlishly as his heart still raced and sound came to him fadingly over the white noise. He attempted to tell Mycroft he had cheated, but his mouth wasn't quite cooperating yet. Mycroft must have gotten his drift though, because Harry could feel his soulmate's chuckle reverberate over his skin.

"So glad you could rejoin the living, dear." Mycroft stated as he crawled into bed next to Harry, pulling the sheets up around the both of them.

"Bastard." Harry breathed affectionately as he turned on to his side and rested his head on Mycroft's chest, pleasantly thrilled to hear the elevated rhythm of Mycroft's heart under his ear. "I don't know if I'll make it if we try and christen the other rooms just as enthusiastically."

"I have every confidence you'll be great."

"Mmm." Harry rubbed his head against Mycroft's chest and yawned. "I'm glad I waited, Mycroft. Glad I didn't give in to their demands. It would have been so easy, to just lay down and give up. To give into my fears about meeting you, finding you."

Mycroft's arm tightened around Harry. "I often wondered when my mark would fade"

"I never asked you what it says."

Mycroft turned over his left arm to reveal his forearm, etched there in an elegant scrawl read the words and either must die at the hand of the other.

Harry's breath hitched. "I did die, though, to beat him. It was only for a moment, I think. One minute I'm having a conversation with my old, dead, Headmaster in and empty, brightly lit Kings Cross Station and the next Mrs. Malfoy is leaned over me asking if her son was still alive."

"The mark takes a year or more to fade in those whose soulmate dies. A backup, perhaps, for those whose soulmate crosses over and come back, heart attack victims and the like."

"I almost didn't come back." Harry whispered, ashamed.

Mycroft didn't answer for a long time and Harry squeezed his eyes closed. "I think there is a conversation we need to have that we have been putting off for a while."

"Tomorrow?"

Mycroft kissed the top of Harry's head. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry squeezed Mycroft's hand and drifted off to sleep.

Harry woke up first and already had already eaten breakfast when Mycroft joined him, dressed the most casually Harry had ever seen him. White button down shirt untucked and his favorite black slacks; favorite because in all the times Harry had been with Mycroft these were to only pair he wore at home on his days off. "Would you like me to make you something?"

"Not this morning. Did you sleep well?" Mycroft inquired as he made his way over to the chair across from Harry.

"I slept very well, thanks." Harry grinned as he curled up in his chair, knees pulled up and arms wrapped around his legs, and got comfortable.

"If it any point you no longer wish to continue this conversation let me know. You do not have to do this Harry. I would just like to…better understand."

"Alright, well. Like I told Sherlock, I was born with my mark as my aunt and uncle would constantly remind me. I don't know that they even knew officially or not if that was true, but I suppose since it was already there when I was left on their doorstep, they may have just said it to be cruel without actually knowing."

"Left on their doorstep?"

Harrys sighed. "You know about my parents being murdered by Voldemort, right?" When Mycroft nodded Harry continued. "Headmaster Dumbledore had me retrieved from my parent's wrecked home."

"Why would a school administrator have any authority over your housing placement?"

"He didn't, he just had me moved. Then he left me on my aunt and uncle's doorstep with a letter."

"On a chilly November morning?"

Harry gave a sardonic grin. "We aren't going to get very far if you keep asking questions. I don't mind, but…"

"I will attempt to refrain."

"Umm, so I was left on the doorstep and my aunt found me the next morning. I was in their care from then until I reached the age of majority for my kind. I attended muggle primary school, my cousin was a bully and until Year 4 I didn't understand the social impact of having been born with my mark. My cousin would constantly bring it up, repeating after his parents like he had every right in the world, when he and his gang bullied me, so I thought the reason I didn't have any friends was because of his actions, not his words. After we received the lecture I was a bit inconsolable for a while." Harry took a deep breath. "My aunt and uncle rarely resorted to physical abuse, my uncle grabbed me a few times and my aunt aimed a few blows with a frying pan a time or two, but for the most part as long as I did the chores they set out for me, they relegated their abuse to the emotional kind and let society have it's fair shot at me. Those damn required in-school counseling sessions are a form of abuse all on their own. When I entered the wizarding world for the first time I was just relieved to not have the whispers and stares be about my soulmate mark."

"No one visited you before receiving your letter to prepare you for entering a magical school?"

"No one knew where I was outside of Headmaster Dumbledore, Hagrid, Headmistress McGonagall and a squib name Arabella Fig."

Mycroft nodded. "That would coincide with the information that was eventually made ready for us."

"So I made rash decisions when it came to making friends as I entered Hogwarts. Before, no one wanted to be my friend because of societal rules and then they wanted that honor for all the wrong reasons, but I soaked it all up and reveled in it."

"Understandable"

"Mmm. I won't go into all the fine details, we'd be here for days, but a sane person would have had Hogwarts shut down. You can see what that says about the world I come from. I faced Voldemort when I was eleven and the Headmaster left a the Philosophers Stone right were Voldemort would come and get it. When I was twelve I faced a younger version of the man. I say man, but I'm using the term loosely. Later I would learn that Tom Riddle, as Voldemort was known when he was younger, made horcruxes. Nasty bit if magic that splits the soul and houses it in a container, typically, of the spellcaster's choosing. Of course, that wasn't the only bit that year, there was also a Basilisk moving around the school through the pipes. I get stabbed through the arm when I killed it, should have died, but a Phoenix showed up and cried for me." Mycroft made looked a bit confused. "I can go into detail later, so let's see, third year Sirius escaped Azkaban and the Ministry in all its wisdom sent Dementors to the school. Fun fact about Dementors they suck all the happy right out of you and given the opportunity eat souls. Didn't get to play with Voldemort that year, but did use a time turner to save a hippogriff and help Sirius escape custody. Fourth year someone thought it would be a good idea to bring back the TriWizard Tournament. Basically three schools get together, choose champions to compete for their school, and then compete in three dangerous tasks to determine a winner throughout the school year. Someone put my name in of course, and as you know I won. After watching Voldemort be resurrected, dueling with Voldemort in a cemetery, and watching the other Hogwarts champion be murdered."

"Was that a task?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.

"I wouldn't have put it past them. I mean, a student died and the Ministry spent the next year using a smear campaign against me. No counseling. No investigation. School wasn't even suspended for any period of time. Sirius risked his neck for me that year. On the weekends we were allowed to leave the castle and visit the small village nearby, my friends and I would sneak out to meet up with him and talk. Never got the chance to get as close to him as I wanted though. There just always seemed to be something keeping us apart."

Harry shifted and ran a hand through his hair. "My fifth year the Ministry sent in a dictator for a teacher and let her abuse the students, it's where I got the fun bit of scaring on my left hand. I don't know what kind of qualifications someone has to have to be a teacher at Hogwarts, but I doubt she had them. She wasn't the only one I'd question on that fact over the years.

"Found out about a connection between myself and Voldemort from that was tricked into breaking into a department in the Ministry. Voldemort showed up; Sirius died. After that, things just didn't seem to matter as much. I want through the motions, spent way too much time being angry and fighting fights that should have never involved me. I had to skip my seventh year initially because of the war. Doing a job that grown adults wouldn't do.

"I died and then I won. The public just moved on. I died for them and they had already moved on to the next agenda. I didn't put too much thought into it, figured maybe it was what people needed to move on. I finished my seventh year of schooling, claimed my lordships and tried becoming a productive member of society, but it wasn't enough for them. I'd given my life for them, but they still wanted more. I was told, by a family I trusted, that I had duty to live my life by their terms. I was expected to marry and have heirs and use my titles. That my finishing school was cute and all, but it was time for me to get serious and I remembered being at Kings Cross, being dead, and making the decision to come back. To come back and finish my duty, the one I had been groomed for and I'd never wished more that I hadn't."

"You came back to the mundane world with no education from the time you were eleven."

"Exactly, I had money, but no real identification or education. So I tried to put what I had learned of magic to good use. Willow helped me gain the trust of those around me. I helped take care of them and, when they could, they helped take care of me."

"That's how you met Sherlock."

"Yeah, back in two-thousand-five, I think, Sherlock was trying to set up his network with the homeless. People talked and I decided it would probably be best to check it out. These were my people, you know? The second thing your brother said to me, after berating me over the knock I used, was to ask me if you had sent me. Always so suspicious, you two." Harry chuckled.

Mycroft stood, stretched in only a way a Holmes could, still looking dignified in doing so. "I would like time to, digest this information. I have questions, but in order to get the full picture…"

"Take all the time you need Mycroft, I'm not going anywhere, at least not for a while. I've got a home I'd like to better acquaint myself with." Harry interrupted. "I do hope I'll see you in bed tonight."

"It's a date, dear."

"Sherlock, you do know we have phones, right? And you could call before showing up?" Harry asked exasperatedly.

"Dull."

"Where are you going with Bishop?"

"I need him for a case."

Harry took in a breath and held it five count before releasing it. "You are not experimenting on my cat Sherlock."

"I need him for a case, not an experiment. He's going to be my partner. People tend to find the skull creepy."

"I'm not even going to ask." Harry said as he threw his hands up. "You just better not lose my cat Sherlock, or I'll be displeased and you'll have to explain it to your brother."

"Sherlock is borrowing Bishop, so if you could keep an eye out that'd be great." Harry stated as he popped into Mycroft's office.

"Someone is going to catch you doing that one day, arriving to or departing from my office in such a manor."

"You bring Tirbble to work with you. What do people say about the small sentient fur ball sleeping in your paperwork outbox?"

"My people know better."

"Exactly." Harry said smugly walking around Mycroft's desk to sit on the arm of the desk chair. "Your brother has my cat. Should I be worried? More worried than usual, that is."

"For my brother or the cat?"

"Either."

"The argument I could make for either would take to long, I have interviews to go through today." Mycroft said sounding disgruntled.

"New Not-Cynthia?"

"A new assistant, yes."

Harry waited until Mycroft had finished with the document he was working on before reaching out and grabbing Mycroft's hand, intertwining their fingers. "Mmm."

"Pouting is unbecoming of your station."

"'Living homeless on the streets is unbecoming if my station."

Mycroft switched to working on his laptop, typing with one hand. Harry remained precariously perched on the arm of the chair, letting his mind drift.

"If you are going to stay I will need use of my hand again." Mycroft stated sometime later.

Harry waited until Mycroft looked up at him before putting on a childish pout. At Mycroft's raised eyebrow, Harry smiled giving a little laugh and gave Mycroft a peck on the cheek. "Alright, alright. I'll just go watch from the corner." Harry gave Mycroft's hand a squeeze and waited until he felt a squeeze in return. He got off the chair and walked to the corner behind Mycroft's desk, off the the right. He conjured a chair, sat, and disillusioned himself and the object he sat on.

Mycroft pressed a button on the phone on his desk and a few seconds later the first interviewee was escorted in. The escort indicated where the interviewee should sit and handed Mycroft a folder then turned around and left, shutting the door behind them. Mycroft flipped the folder open and asked. "Tell me, what qualifies you for this job?" Thus, began the process that six hours later will have whittled the pile of twenty-two folders down to just three. Mycroft had only stopped for a short lunch after Harry had insisted and even gone so far as to drag Mycroft out of the office with him to fetch the food.

"What do you think?" Mycroft inquired distractedly as he scrutinized the folders.

"Number 17 scares me." Harry stated. "There is something about her eyes I don't like and while her marksmanship scores and knowledge of several different forms of martial arts is a plus. She reads like a plant. Her knowledge of technology is a bit dated to be of use to you and she has too many holes in her employment history to be trusted sooner rather than later."

"I agree." Mycroft said tossing Number 17 on top of the ever growing pile of rejected applications. "That you caught on to the plant idea impresses me. Her application was pushed through the system. I suspect the person who did thought they were clever."

"More clever than a Holmes? They obviously don't know what they are getting themselves into or who they are messing with."

"Number 3?"

"His marksmanship is a bet lower than I would like and while that may normally be a disqualifier according to the standards you set out, you allowed the application through. He is adaptable though, has well-rounded education and job history, and appears to do quite well with multi-tasking according to the tests you issued. He has a clean record, military and civilian, and every employer recommendation includes the word loyalty in a positive light. He speaks well, courteous, but not a pushover by any means."

Mycroft looked up to study Harry who was reading the folders over his shoulder. "You liked him."

"He kept you on your toes while being completely polite, answering everything you asked in timely manner, and even cluing in on what you were going to ask next. Thinking ahead and knowing what you'll need before you do is something we can hone. Of course I liked him." Harry responded trying hold back a grin.

"We?"

"Don't be stupid Mycroft, it's below you."

"Yes, dear." Mycroft retorted with a snide lilt.

Harry huffed out a sigh and shook his head. "Are you going to even ask my opinion on Number 10?"

"I could feel your hatred for the women emanating from where you sat."

"She's a bimbo, why did you even include her in the final list?"

"To make our choice easier." Mycroft retorted.

"Seriously? You couldn't have just picked up Number 3 and let that be the end of it?"

"I needed to see if what we thought of the applicants ran along the same line of reasoning."

"You were testing me." Harry retorted flatly.

Mycroft absently reached over for Harry's hand. "No, I was looking to see if either of us would differ, in some major way, over our read of a person. If you are to take it as being a test then it was one that included the both of us."

Harry allowed what Mycroft said to sink in. "Do you think that just counted as an argument? I've heard about make up sex…"

"My car should be here momentarily."

"Are you saying we're going to start in the car? Kinky." Harry said with a wink. "Well I'm going to go bother your other employees while I wait. Try not to keep me waiting."

"A lot could be said about anticipation." Mycroft responded with a smirk.

"I can see Number 3 needing a raise already." Harry laughed as he exited Mycroft's office.

"Do your confidentiality clauses actually include frottage in a car?" Harry asked as he tried to fix his disheveled look while walking up into the manor. He heard a gagging noise and looked to see Sherlock standing at the front door. "Oh grow up, Sherlock."

Mycroft let them into the manor and Harry went to shower, Mycroft joined him and massaged shampoo in his hair. The shower was completely non sexual and while Harry would never say it out loud, he found it almost healing. They were both washing away the grime of the day, physical and psychological, preparing for time spent in the quiet of their home. Mycroft was never truly off duty and as such neither was Harry, but more days than not they at least got a few hours together and even sometimes managed to sleep in the same bed at the same time. Harry had been living with Mycroft for almost two months now and Sherlock usually showed up once a week for family dinner, despite both brothers vehemently denying it should be called that. Harry like to think that he helped in some way ease the brother's relationship, or perhaps he had just learned to read them better.

He decided on ordering takeout tonight, as he dried off and dressed. He was in the kitchen and leaned over the drawer filled with takeout menus when his breath caught in his throat. A spell whizzed past his head and missed him by inches as he ducked and rolled out of the way. Turning to face the intruder, Harry caught a sight of a twist of black fabric heading through the archway and into the main house. Harry apparated into the foyer and headed the intruder off. He picked up his arm to cast a spell, his wand snapping into his hand. He quickly immobilized the intruder and put him to sleep with a few quick flicks of his wand.

Heart racing he turned and ran down the hallway to the living room where Mycroft and Sherlock sat silently playing out a battle of wills in the form of chess.

"Mycroft, take Sherlock to the safe room now!" Harry shouted as he canvased the room with his eyes to ensure their safety. "If you have a panic button, use it."

Mycroft swiftly stood, only pausing for a second to grab his brothers arm, and hurried them both into the back of the manor and down the stairs into a basement. Harry followed them to the door and waited for the automated click of the doors lock before setting out to search the entire house for anymore intruders.

Harry tucked his wand away when the sound of helicopter blades approaching alerted him to Mycroft's team arriving. He prepared himself for their entrance and waited at the bottom of the staircase standing to the left side on the first step. He had left the door slightly open and watched as it was pushed the rest of the way in. As four teams of gunmen filtered into the room and began clearing the house, a man holding a box like device and his armed partner approached Harry for fingerprint, voice, and blood sample analysis. The process would take fifteen minutes total, the time needed for the teams to secure the entire manor.

The partner lowered his gun at the clear indicative beep of the machine. "We're good sir. All teams report green. Is the person Delta Squad is with the only intruder?"

"Appeared that way. I've knocked them out and they'll need to be revived by a specialist."

"Understood, sir. Charlie Squad reports successful retrieval of package. The helicopter will transport them to the agreed secured location at this time. If you'll follow me, you can ride with my team."

"Were Bishop and Tribble retrieved as well?"

"They will be in the second pass, this way sir."

Tribble hummed audibly from his perch on Mycroft's shoulder, Harry could hear him faintly before he finally saw Mycroft and Sherlock sitting next to each other on a plain couch. Harry noted how plain the whole safe house was in general. Bishop was curled up between the two brothers, tail swishing in an agitated manor.

"The intruder's name is Felicity Williams, half-blood witch that attended Hogwarts a year behind my class. Aurors won't give any further details at this time."

"How did she find the manor?" Sherlock inquired.

"Officially? Unclear."

"Unofficially then?" Sherlock snapped.

"A tracking spell. One that's not quite legal under certain conditions." Harry admitted.

"Is that why you have been using magic less?" Mycroft asked this time.

"George mentioned that the spell had been brought up in that column the Prophet is keeping on me. I thought if I limited my magic use, well, maybe they'd get bored or something? It wasn't an issue, until now."

Mycroft gave Harry a look. "You didn't think it was an issue?"

"Not what I meant exactly, it's just, what could I do? The Wizengamot is hardly going to listen to me and with as many as there are possibly using the spell…" Harry trailed off.

"Really, Harry. You have the ability to stand up for yourself." Mycroft closed his eyes and rubbed them.

"I just wanted them to leave me alone."

"Well that's about to change." Mycroft stated with authority. "You are a Lord and you will be respected as one. The stalking, slander, and abuse of authority and power used against you ends."

Harry felt unsure and a bit panicked. Mycroft stood, walked over, and hugged him. Tribbles humming washed over Harry and he leaned into Mycroft's embrace.

Sherlock kept blessedly silent.

Two days later, on a chilly spring morning, Mycroft, Sherlock, and Harry were released from the safe house. Wards had been added to the manor, 221b, and Mycroft's main office. Harry would need to visit each location and have the wards attuned to him as the holder, a process that would take the better part of a day and require plenty of food and rest before attempting. The warders assured that as long as Harry was standing inside the wards during each attunement there shouldn't be any trouble with being attacked like what had happened before.

Mycroft had allowed the subject of Harry's troubles to slide during their confinement and had agreed to hold off for another couple of days until the wards had been attuned and settled. Harry had a feeling that wasn't keeping Mycroft from plotting though, the man had an amazing mind. Bishop had taken to following Harry around everywhere he went, which meant sex was out the window. Harry was not having sex in front of the "kids". He instead prepared for atuning the wards, eating according to a recommended schedule left by the warders. Sleep was a bit difficult, even with Mycroft in the bed next to him. Harry's mind seemed preoccupied by what Mycroft might by planning and Harry hated how uncomfortable this whole thing made him.

When had he become so complacent that he had started running away from his own battles instead of facing them? Although, until Harry had left what had actually been a personal battle he had fought? He'd never been able to stand up to his aunt and uncle. Never been able to stand up to society. Once he had arrived at Hogwarts his grooming had started and he was always standing up for the good of everyone else, not himself. Then there was the fact that the few people he had trusted and respected always shrugged off his concerns. Even Ron and Hermione had failed him in this at times; not that he was shrugging all the blame off on them. It's just that, if their situations had been reversed, he would like to think he might have tried to do more to help his friend. Been a voice where his they couldn't.

They had been children though, so maybe they'd all just fallen victim to the complacency and by the time the serious damage, the physical damage, was being done, Harry couldn't even safely walk into the Ministry for help. There wasn't a single authority figure he could truly trust and he couldn't run away, he couldn't escape it. They had magic, they'd always find him.

Were all the magical communities like this? Were there others being abused and tossed aside like he had been? Harry rubbed his forehead and sat up in the bed feeling sick. It wasn't until Mycroft's hand rested on his bare shoulder that Harry realized he was trembling. "What…what if there are others Mycroft?"

"Others?" The low timbre of Mycroft's voice resounding in Harry's ears as Mycroft's body enveloped his own.

"Like me. Others that they just use, and isolate, and manipulate. Children, My."

"We'll find out." Mycroft whispered. "We'll not leave any stone unturned. They're about to get a rude awakening." Mycroft pulled Harry back against him and rubbed Harry's stomach with one hand and rested his other hand on Harry's forehead. "You are not alone."

"Haven't been since I met you." Harry mumbled settling back.

"Go to sleep, Harry."

"Lord Potter-Black?"

Harry turned to see a man, a wizard, standing at the other side side of the hall in Buckingham Palace. Mycroft looked up from the newspaper he was reading and stared at Harry. Harry crossed the space between them and held out his hand for Mycroft to stand before addressing the man making his way towards them.

The man gave a short bow. "My name is Wesley Cohen, aid to the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Queen Elizabeth II contacted the Confederation on behalf of yourself, the Crown, and Magical Britain. She cited a breach of contract between the British Magical Government and the Crown in reference to the Breach Clause of the Separation Act of 1692."

"Separation Act?" Harry asked confused.

"You didn't learn about it in History of Magic, Lord Potter-Black?"

"No, and just Harry please. We just study the Goblin Wars mostly. I don't think Professor Binns has changed his syllabus since, well, since he died."

"Ah." The man, Wesley, said with a confused look on his face. "Well, the Separation Act of 1692 was a contract approved by the Confederation and signed by the Crown and then current Minister of Magic of Britain. The two parties agreed to a separation of mundane and magical in accordance with the newly passed Statue of Secrecy and the Crown aloud the British Ministry to govern itself under its own purview. The Breach Clause includes a number of stipulations, that if not met, renders the contract null and void. The Confederation has been called to session to verify the breach of contract. Should the breach hold true the Crown will have the right to immediately seize control of the British Ministry until such a time that another contract may be agreed upon."

"What do you need me to do?" Harry replied as he tried to digest the information.

"In a moment I will take you to a room set up for today's meeting. Confederation representatives, randomly selected, will ask you questions pertaining to your life and involvement in British Wizarding society. Veritaserum will be administered upon your agreement, but is not required. When the interview is over I will escort you back here to Mr. Holmes and the representatives will deliberate. The Confederation will meet two days from now and the assessment of the representatives will be officially filed with the Supreme Mugwump. The representative from the British Ministry of Magic and the current Minister will be questioned and then the Confederation as a whole deliberate and vote. A majority vote is needed for the breach to be confirmed. "

"Has the British Ministry already been notified then?"

"Yes, they were notified this morning, as protocol states. This gives them seventy-two hours to gather the documentation needed to support their defense, if they make one, that they have not breached the contract." Wesley supplied.

Harry looked up at Mycroft. "Sherlock will need to be picked up and taken to the condo. The wards there have been settled longer. I'd feel better if we all stayed there until the decision has been made. Have Bishop and Tribble retrieved as well."

"My brother may not agree."

"Lord, excuse me, Harry. Your name is confidential in these proceedings."

Harry addressed Mycroft first. "Tell Sherlock that since Bishop is a magical species of cat that he should be able to communicate with us. I'll let him put on my cloak if he figures it out."

He then turned to Wesley. "The British Ministry of Magic has been suspicious of me since I stepped into this world. They've been out right smearing my name since I was fifteen. I will be, without a doubt, at the top of their list. I'll admit I don't even know who the Minister is at this point, they may even be a decent person, but the Ministry as a whole is corrupt as fuck."

Wesley nodded "When you are ready, sir."

Harry squeezed Mycroft's hand and started to follow Wesley. Right before their hands broke apart, Harry felt Mycroft squeeze back.

Harry agreed to the Veritaserum, despite what lies the Ministry may try to come up with Veritaserum was the leading way of verifying truth in their world. The questions had started out fairly basic, his name, date of birth, parents, level of education, and so on. The representatives sat behind a long table and wore cloaks with the hood up. Wesley explained that the hoods blackened out the face of the person wearing it to keep anonymity.

"Lord Potter-Black, you were a war orphan before the Dark Lord known as Voldemort fell the first time. Can you describe for this panel where you were placed, by who or what authority, and when you learned you learned of magic before you started school at eleven."

"I was placed with my aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, who presided at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. I was brought there by Rubeus Hagrid, on orders of Albus Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall, who was also present at my placement, told me that Dumbledore wanted me to have a normal life, away from the pressures and fame of magical Britain." The monotone sound of his voice unnerved him a bit. "I had no knowledge of magic before age eleven."

"You said you were left with your aunt and uncle, in what manner?"

"I have been told that I was left on the doorstep with a letter."

"Were you ever visited by a witch or wizard prior to entering Hogwarts?"

"Hagrid delivered my letter to me."

"Why was your letter hand delivered?"

"My uncle kept destroying them."

"How did you buy your first year texts and other items?"

"Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley and took me to Gringotts. He was the one to give the Goblins my key. I took out money and paid for the things I needed from the list."

"At any time did Rubeus Hagrid ever leave you alone during your trip to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, he sent me to get my robes while he went back to the Leaky Cauldron"

"Lord Potter-Black, how would you rate the level of education you received while attending Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

"Poor."

"Explain, if you could."

"There was a different Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor every year I attended. Professor Quirrell had a parasitic relationship with Voldemort, Professor Lockhart was a fraud, Professor Lupin while an excellent teacher, I am unsure of his qualifications and he was eventually removed due to his being a werewolf. Professor Moody was a polyjuiced imposter, Professor Umbridge tortured students, and Professor Snape hated me for my father and was a spy for both sides of the war."

"That was only six professors, did you not take the class your seventh year?"

"My original seventh year I was on the run, because of the war. When Hogwarts reopened after the war, I opted for independent study in that subject."

"Please explain your statement that Professor Umbridge tortured students."

"Detention with her involved writing lines with a Blood Quill and she threatened to use an Unforgivable on me."

"How many detentions did you have with Professor Umbridge?"

"I don't remember anymore, too many to count."

"How many lines did you write for detention with her?"

"I don't know, but it did leave a scar."

One of the representatives waved Wesley towards Harry.

"Lord Potter-Black will you please show Mr. Cohen the scar?"

Harry lifted his left hand.

"Lord Potter-Black, I will be making a scan of your hand. The scan is painless and will provide a medical scan and picture for the representatives to examine." Wesley stated.

When Wesley was finished a parchment expelled from the end of his wand and a photo appeared on top of the parchment. Wesley delivered the parchment and photo to the representatives.

The entire proceeding took nearly five hours and the Veritaserum had to be administered again due to the longevity of the questioning. Wesley escorted an exhausted Harry out to Mycroft who stood waiting in almost the exact spot Harry had left him. Harry walked right up to Mycroft, stood chest to chest, and leaned his forehead on Mycroft's shoulder. He didn't expect Mycroft to break character and was surprised to feel an arm wrap around his shoulders and hold him close.

"We are finished here." Mycroft ground out with authority.

"Yes, Mister Holmes, Lord Potter-Black has completed his portion of the proceedings."

Harry chuckled, Mycroft hadn't been asking a question and Wesley Cohen was a brave, brave man to be staring down Harry's soulmate at this moment. Mycroft walked Harry out of Buckingham Palace and to the car waiting for them, arm still wrapped around Harry's shoulders. Harry thought that they must make a sight, the two of them walking side by side in one of the few places on earth that could recognize them for what they were.

The British Government and The Boy Who Conquered.

The official verdict came through a week later, the Crown had gotten in contact with Mycroft, and Harry and Mycroft both were summoned back to Buckingham Palace for a meeting between them and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Mycroft had a suit custom tailored for the event delivered to the condo for himself and proper wizarding robes, befitting Harry's position, delivered by owl as well. Harry suspected Mycroft was having far too much fun going through the catalogues he had had Harry send off for from the various surrounding magical communities. Harry had even heard Mycroft mutter in disgust over the choice of selection he had reviewed from the British tailors, Harry was now barred from buying any clothes from Diagon Alley or the likes, not that Harry minded either way.

Harry's robes were a deep royal blue that appeared almost black, trimmed in silver and grey. Mycroft had informed Harry that the two colors of trim indicated his status as Lord of two Houses, but the primary colors he wore were correlated with the House of Black as it was the older House. The outfit consisted of three layers which mimicked, in Harry's opinion, Mycroft's three piece suit. Mycroft had "assisted" Harrry in dressing for the meeting and when they stood in the bathroom trying to tame Harry's hair into submission, he had to admit that they looked stunning next to each other.

Harry tried not to fidget during the car ride and took to bouncing only one of his legs. Mycroft put a hand on said leg after a moment and didn't move it even after Harry had stopped. Harry wasn't worried about the verdict itself, unofficially they had already been informed that it had been in their favor, but more to taking a stand. He wanted it, wanted to see British Wizarding Society changed for the better, and he knew that Mycroft would be there beside him every step of the way, but this would be Harry's show. Harry was the wizard in their relationship and for now that would be what mattered to most people.

"Lord Potter-Black, Mr. Holmes. If you would follow me." Wesley greeted with as they exited the car. "The Supreme Mugwump is waiting for you in the arranged meeting room."

Harry made sure to keep pace with Mycroft as they walked, they were going to go into this as equal partners whether people liked it or not. The meeting room was in the same wing as the room Harry was interviewed in, but much friendlier looking, Harry thought to himself, opulent, but friendly. A man, about middle age in appearance, stood at the far window of the room, his back to them when they entered. His attire consisted of what looked like muggle designed slacks and crisp white button down, a fitted robe completed the ensemble.

"Lord Potter-Black," The man gave a short bow. "Mister Holmes, thank you for taking the time to see me. I am Alexander Marks Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. If we might sit." Alexander said gesturing to the facing couches in the middle of the room. As they sat Alexander made an example of looking around him, before leaning in towards Mycroft and Harry, putting a hand up to his mouth and whispering. "Do you mind if we disparage with the formality?"

Wesley gave a long suffered sigh, but there was a small grin on his face as he looked as Alexander. Mycroft looked slightly scandalized, well he did to Harry anyway, and Harry was delighted by both Mycroft's and Wesley's antic. "I would greatly appreciate that sir," Harry made a show of checking his surroundings. "I don't know much about the formalities myself, honestly." Harry whispered back.

Alexander let out a loud laugh and smiled at Harry, clearly pleased. "Finally, a British wizard without a stick up his arse. No offense young man, but the Lords and Ladies of your social class could learn a thing or two in loosening up."

"Well, I wouldn't know too much about that sir." Harry admitted. "Just what I saw of the kids in school, really."

Alexander sighed. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. At what age did you claim your Lordships, Harry?"

"Nineteen, sir."

"When the assessment was filed and I was given a chance to read it over, I didn't want to believe it. I could make an excuse and say that The Confederation had its hands tied, as part of the Separation Act your Ministry signed all of those years ago, aid must requested directly from your Ministry. From what I've read of the notes of the deliberation before the Act was approved, it was one of the sticking points that many people argued against, but the rest had been fairly reasonable in comparison, that eventually it was overlooked, and people focused on the bigger picture. But we'd been watching the deterioration of the British Ministry for decades and when it came down to it we weren't willing to get involved, beyond where we had to. I've been Supreme Mugwump since Dumbledore lost the position and on behalf of the Confederation and the people we represent, I sincerely apologize to you Harry."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said as he tried not to show how upset he was. To think, Dumbledore had had the power to request aid and hadn't. Harry had just been a means to an end to the man.

Mycroft's hand found its way on to Harry's thigh palm up and Harry gripped it like a life line.

"It has been the conclusion of The Confederation that the contract between the British Crown and British Ministry of Magic has been breached. The current Minister and British Representative were unable to provide sufficient evidence to keeping in guidelines with the Breach Clause. Effective as of twelve oh one a.m. Greenwich Mean Time, today, the British Ministry of Magic and the citizens it serves and governs, is now under the authority of the British Monarch, Queen Elizabeth II."

Wesley, who had stood behind the couch Alexander was sitting on, came around and produced a letter with the official seal of the Windsor family. "Her Majesty asked that this be delivered to Lord Potter-Black and Mr. Holmes after the announcement of her new position."

Alexander stood, prompting Harry and Mycroft to stand as well. "It was a pleasure meeting you Lord Potter-Black, I hope we meet again under better circumstances."

Alexander and Harry exchanged bows and the Supreme Mugwump and his aide left the room. Harry turned to Mycroft and handed him the letter. "Ready to wage war?"

Mycroft took the proffered letter and broke the seal. "War? This shall be child's play."

Mycroft made a disgruntled face as Harry led him out of the Visitor's entrance phone booth and over to the man to have his wand cleared for entrance into the Atrium.

"Don't look like that, it's better than the toilet entrances we had to use. Plus, I like the badges." Harry said as he glanced down at the visitor's badge in his hand.

Harry Potter

Overthrow Government

"My second one said Rescue Mission" Harry continued.

"Dare I ask what the first one said?"

"Disciplinary Hearing." Harry answered as he walked towards the Minister's office, a few glances in his direction by the people walking the halls. "Two to see the Minister of Magic." Harry announced as he walked past the secretary's desk and into the Minister's office. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up at their entrance. "Minister, you and I don't need introductions, but this is Mycroft Holmes, appointed Queen Elizabeth II to oversee her will." Harry turned to Mycroft. "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt, current Minister of Magic."

"Harry, you can't just walk in here as you like, you have to make an appointment like everyone else." Kingsley stated sounding incensed. "I don't know what this nonsense is about this muggle being given control over our matters, but the people won't stand for it. I won't stand for it."

"I'm afraid Minister, that you do not have a choice in this matter." Mycroft interceded. "The Separation Act of 1692 was a legally and magically binding contract between the British monarchy and the British Ministry of Magic. The breach of contract was confirmed by your own International Confederation of Wizards."

"How come they didn't obliviate you?" Kingsley asked pointing at Mycroft. "And arrest you, for breaking the Statue of Secrecy?" He continued as Kingsley moved his arm to point at Harry.

"My soulmate works directly under the Crown." Harry ground out. "You will not point at him in an aggressive manor again Minister, as a wizard you know better and this will be your final warning."

"A muggle? Your soulmate? There will be an outcry over this."

"He prefers mundane and it is no one's business who my soulmate is, but mine Minister. So, if we could focus on the issue at hand. I'm sure you've received the letter from the ICW by name explaining that control reverted back to the Crown as of midinght?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't allow this. We were railroaded at that meeting and as Minister I have to do what's best for my people."

Harry felt the shift in magic, the Minister had some sort of magical version of the panic button and he had used it. "You should know about the Act as Minister, you can't just ignore the law Kingsley. That's what we fought for. Evil tyranny to be stopped and justice to be served."

"We can't all be the perfect war heroes." Kinsley muttered under his breath as Aurors rushed through the door and filled the room.

Harry grasped Mycroft's hand next to him. "That's the thing you forget Minister, I died for that cause, and death changes a person."

Harry turned, grabbed Mycroft's waist and appareted.

Collapsing into the condo, Harry gasped for air and rolled away from Mycroft. He took a minute to catch his breath and check himself for injuries, before getting up and checking Mycroft over.

"Does anything hurt?" Harry asked as he ran his hands over Mycroft's body and exposed as much skin as he could. Harry felt like his heart was in his throat and his hands were shaking to a point where they were just hindering his process not helping.

"I'm fine, Harry."

"Are you sure? There was no splinching? It be really dangerous, Mycroft, and I just need to check. I just need…" Harry rambled, double and triple checking Mycroft in his efforts.

"Harry." Mycroft called as he sat up, gathering Harry's hands in his own. "Nothing hurts and I am fine. I would like to know what just happened, though."

Harry blinked and took a shuddering breath. "The…the part where we just became criminals? Or, or the part…where I apparated through anti-apparation wards?"

Harry entered Gringotts dressed head to toe as a witch, in the attire of a Lady of a House out to visit Gringott's bank. In other words, a woman on a mission. Harry had even gone so far as to learn to mimic a French accent, taught relentlessly by Mycroft, for speaking to the Goblins about wanting to see his account manager.

"Lord Potter-black, how can the Horde assist you today?" Nirhold asked as he entered the office Harry had been escorted to.

"Has the rumors of my being a wanted criminal made it to Gringotts yet?"

"Yes, the Minister held a conference in the square here in Diagon, you are to be restrained on sight, at which time Aurors will escort you to Azkaban for treason."

"My accounts?"

"The Ministry did attempt seizure, but without conviction in a trial by the Wizengamot, the Goblin Horde will not close an account for seizure."

"Which they don't have." Harry sighed in relief.

"Not yet, little Lord."

"I need to send a letter to the ICW, the Sumpreme Mugwump directly if possible, and I need to know if the Potter or Black family still retains a solicitor."

"Gringotts can arrange a letter be delivered to the Supreme Mugwump and look into whether or not a solicitor is retained. May I inquire as to what you will write to the Confederation?"

"Help. I don't know if you know it Nirhold, but the Minister is no longer the true authority here anymore. The ICW recognized a breach of contract between the mundane monarchy and British Ministry."

"You are referring to the Separation Act, yes? I see, we will get on this at once, little Lord. The letter?" Nirhold held out a gnarled hand and took the letter from Harry.

Now all he could do was wait.

Harry arrived at the condo and took in the disarray. The wards were shredded, Harry could felt the faint tingle of magic as what left if them held in place. An American Auror stood just inside the door, he looked haggard and grim, hearing Harry's entrance the man looked at Harry and shook his head.

Harry stumbled past the Auror and followed the familiar path to the master bedroom, he could hear the shouts from the front door. Pushing through the door Harry saw. Mycroft standing be the bed and a feeling of elation washed over him. No one would tell him anything and he had feared the worst, but there he was, his soulmate and partner, looking irate as ever but alive.

Until Mycroft looked at him.

Until Mycroft looked through him.

The reason they wouldn't tell him anything.

The reason the Auror had shook his head and looked so grim.

The Ministy's Aurors spells had struck true, but they hadn't killed Mycroft, they had obliviated him instead.

Harry started and came face to face with a concerned Wesley Cohen.

"Lord Potter-Black?" Wesley asked looking unsure.

"Wesley? What time is it? What are you doing here?" Harry asked as his heart raced with the fuzzy remnants of the nightmare, memory if it's events just beyond his grasp.

"Oh good, when the Goblins told me I could find you here and then I thought there was just a sleeping woman…"

"What?" Harry asked before it dawned on him, the cosmetic charms. "Right, hold on." Harry found his wand and made to cancel the charms.

"No!" Wesley shouted, reaching for Harry's hand. "Wait, please, if you don't mind. The Supreme Mugwump should see this. He's with a goblin name Nirhold and an older gentleman who refuses to introduce himself until he's seen you."

"Er, well, I guess." Harry shrugged lowering his wand. "Have you brought help with you Wesley? I had to leave Mycroft behind and Sherlock could be anywhere." A pang ran through Harry's heart and he experienced the feeling if his heart in his throat. "Mycroft." He breathed in a strangled squeak. "You have to send someone now!"

Wesley was startled by Harry's outburst, but grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the room and down the hall to where the others were. "Sorry, for the intrusion Supreme Mugwump, but Lord Potter-Black needs us to retrieve Mister Holmes immediately. He fears his soulmate may be in danger."

"There's a condo I inherited, we've been using to lay low. It's not hooked up to the floo and it's in a mundane building. I had to leave him behind, but because of the tracking spell others know where it is, I've felt my wards ripple almost constantly when we are there and what if the wards don't hold up and they get to him and I'm not there…" Harry rushed.

"Lord Potter-Black?" Alexander asked looking unsure.

"What?"

"Harry take off the charms now." Wesley whispered in Harry's direction.

Harry flicked his wand and released the cosmetic charms. He became annoyed after a moment. "If your just going to stand there and stare I'm going to go get Mycroft myself."

"Of course, Lord Potter-Black. I have brought ICW appointed Aurors with me from America. We should have more coming in from France, Germany, Bulgaria, and Italy within the hour. Other countries are preparing and on standby should we need more help. The British Ministry of Magic has chosen to ignore a ruling, a confirmation, laid down by our Confederation. This is in violation of our own laws as a member of this Confederation." Alexander stated crisply. "The Aurors I brought with me will escort you to retrieve your family members."

"Will you be alright? What if they try something funny?"

"The Goblins have agreed to allow us to stay here, for the time being. You made loyal friends when you gained the respect of the Goblin Horde, Harry"

Harry nodded. "Anyone here able to make a portkey?"

Harry aparated directly into his condo, wand out, and made his way through the rooms and hall towards the master bedroom. He turned to see the Aurors arrive by portkey and they spread out for their various tasks. Most would be tackling the Ministry Aurors attacking Harry's wards, a few were closing in on Harry as he opened the bedroom door.

Bishop rushed out of the room and began to tell all who would listen about his displeasure at being locked up. Mycroft wasn't in the room. A chill ran down Harry's spine and he had just started to panic when he heard the sound of the shower running. Harry motioned to the master bathroom and indicated he would be checking it out, waiting for the Aurors nod of understanding.

Harry slipped in the bathroom and could just make out a figure through the steam. "Mycroft?" The figure turned and Harry came closer, finally being able to make out his soulmate's form.

"Care to join me, Harry? I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

"I don't think the Aurors standing in out bedroom would appreciate that much. Although, if you get out now I could use a hug."

Mycroft shut off the water and Harry brought over a towel to help dry Mycroft off. "Did something happen?"

Harry worked on drying Mycroft's back and mumbled something too low to hear.

"Pardon?"

Harry wrapped the towel around Mycroft, bringing his arms around, and hugged him. "I had a nightmare."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Harry squeezed tighter for a moment and pulled away, transferring the towel from his hands to Mycroft's. "Not now. Later?" Mycroft turned around and nodded. "I'll go let them know we haven't drowned and clear the room so you can get dressed."

"You'll need to change to, dear."

"What? You don't think this suits me?" Harry grinned as he turned around in the outfit he had used to get into Gringotts.

The Ministry Aurors were taken into custody, Mycroft, Harry, and a group of ICW appointed Aurors entered the British Ministry of Magic. Harry and Mycroft were dressed much in the same manner as they had been the last time they were here. People stopped and stared this time, actively taking notice of the group storming the Ministry hallways and making their towards the Ministers office. Harry's badge tickled him pink today.

Harry Potter

Ministry Traitor

Some of the others were a little less than enthused by the badges they had been given, but Harry found that he could care less. He had said those words exactly to the automated voice.

"A bit more than two to see the Minister." Harry announced to the secretary as he once again pushed through the Minister's door. "Ah, Kingsley, wanted for treason am I?"

"Lord Potter-Black." Kingsley said grudgingly. "You wouldn't happen to know where my missing Aurors are would you?"

Harry shrugged and pointed to the ICW Aurors behind him. "You'd have to ask them."

One stepped forward, Damian, if Harry remembered correctly, Damian Johnson. "Minister Shacklebolt, you are hereby relieved of your duties as Minister of Magic. If you would please come with me, sir, you are being detained until the next Confederation session, to be held tomorrow."

"By whose authority?" Kingsley demanded.

"Mine." Alexander answered as he was escorted into the room. "Alexander Marks, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. A group your nation is a part of and whose laws your nation must abide by. Being a Minister does not put you above our laws, and I'd personally like to know where your government thinks it can get away with ignoring laws older than either of us. You have got two choices Mr. Shacklebolt, you can walk out of here of your own free will or with enough restraints you'll have to be carried out."

Harry tried not to show the disappointment on his face when Kingsley chose the former.

Harry ended up doing less than he would have originally after Kingsley was removed from office. Instead of letting their government's change of hands happen quietly, Kingsley had set the British Ministry of Magic, and to an extent its citizens, up for scrutiny by the ICW. The was no department left unaffected, all positions within the Ministry had to be reapplied for and the standards where re-raised to international standards. Harry learned that the ICW enforced a lot of different standards for the running of a country's government that had been allowed to slip through the cracks here in Britain.

The Auror department was being supplemented at the moment with Aurors from various countries until new graduates and old made it through the assessment program. There had been some problems with the Prophet printing its usual slander, but when it had been found out that the Ministry was the biggest backer in the paper and after that funding had been pulled, the paper collapsed and wizarding radio, for a time, became the only source of news, outside of gossip. The purebloods had kept oddly quiet, and Harry worried about the possible backlash that may be brewing.

He really just wanted some alone time with Mycroft. Between both of their work, where it overlapped and where it didn't, they hadn't been in bed at the same time in a week. Harry didn't understand how Mycroft enjoyed so much work on a regular basis. This week Harry would be touring Hogwarts and helping to schedule the assessments that needed to be done of the teachers. He would also be helping looking through all the school records that could be dug up. Being appointed by the Crown as her magical representative sucked most days.

"Hey mate, why the long face?" George ask as he, Charlie, and Bill filled in the empty seats of the table.

"Work sucks." Harry complained as he put his head in his arms. "Do you know just how many records are just sitting around in Hogwarts unlabeled and and with no apparent organizational system?"

"Welcome to real life, good to see you here."

Harry lifted his head to glare at George and turned to greet Bill and Charlie. "Hi guys, it's been a while."

"Too long, Harry, and Charlie and I really want to apologize…" Bill started.

Harry waved him off. "George told me already, consider the apology already accepted. How have you two been?"

"Well, I'm doing good, still married to Fleur, didn't have any more children though, just Victoire and she's plenty a handful herself. She's about to start school, Fleur's said that if Hogwarts hasn't gotten its act together before then that we'll be sending her to Beauxbaton's in the fall instead. Thankfully my job allows me a certain amount of mobility and I've already checked to see if I could transfer banks. Mum isn't too keen on the idea though. She's been in a right state about you Harry."

Harry sighed. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"So, is he really your soulmate? The muggle that has been hanging around?" Charlie chimed in.

George laughed. "You should meet his brother, he's the interesting one."

"Oi, Mycroft it plenty interesting and you all should try living with them. Don't get me wrong, I love the bastards, I do, but you cannot allow them to be cooped up for too long of a time. Though, I must say, they've toned it down some, or maybe I just don't notice as much?"

"Seriously, Harry, how is it going with you two?" George asked.

"Living with him is good, the manor feels like home, and I get really excited about our family dinner nights. Not that either of them will let me call it that." Harry grinned. "Bishop's made himself a home, he likes carrying Tribble around. Scared the fuck out of us the first time he tried it." At Bill and Charlie's confused looks. "Bishop is our cat, my familiar, and Tribble is Mycroft's puffskein. Anyway, if we could just keep the outside world from invading our home, figuratively and literally, for a time I'd feel better.

"I mean I knew going into this that Mycroft's work was important and that it would keep him away sometimes, or even keep me away if he had an assignment for me, but these last couple of weeks have been a bit much. It's left us doing twice the normal amount of work. Thankfully in about two months or so, the majority of my work with the ICW will be complete. Mycroft assures me that our roles will become more ambassadorial at that point."

"Maybe you just need to get laid." George threw out there.

"Maybe if I wasn't so tired all the time, I'd try."

"Be assertive, Harry, surprise him at work or something."

Harry snorted. "I don't think Number 3 would appreciate that very much."

"Number 3?"

"Mycroft's new assistant. He's new, on a bit of a probationary status."

"Dare I ask what happened to his last one?" Charlie asked.

"She died in the line of duty."

"Jeez, Harry, your life never really does slow down does it?"

"Hmm," Harry thought for a moment. "No, but like I said, Mycroft does important work and it comes with its own amount of danger. I don't think I could have a soulmate that was any other way.

"So, what about you, Charlie? Still working in Romania?"

"No, got injured about two years ago. Physical therapy and good salves help me walk without a limp, for now, I took a nasty blast to the leg. Some fairly severe burns to my outer thigh and lower right leg. Danger of the job though, been living off my savings while I study some healing and potions. Muggle-born friend of mine mentioned, what was it called, sports medicine? We are trying to see how the concept could be implemented at the reserve and other high risk jobs. Wizards rely too much on hoping the person gets to a healer in time." Charlie explained.

"I hope that works out for you guys."

"Also, I've been seeing this girl…"

"The Quibbler put out some interesting statistics in its last issue. Apparently, all but a third of the marriages that occurred in the two years following the war have ended in divorce." George stated as he finished his meal. "Divorce until now had been a rare occurrence."

"Can't say I'm all that shocked honestly. People rushing into marriage because it's what everyone else is doing and not waiting to find out how compatible they are first." Harry said.

"Compatibility has never really been a consideration though, in pureblood circles anyway." Bill added. "Marriage is used for line purity and status."

"Which is why their family trees don't branch nearly as much as they should. Might even be why birth rates are so low."

"Well, Ron and Hermione are sure doing their part in repopulating. Had their first boy last year and Ron's already talking about trying for another."

Harry thought back to when he had last seen the two, Hermione hadn't been keen on more kids. "Just Ron?"

"Hermione for the longest time was adamantly against it, but she hasn't exactly denied the claims the last couple of times we've all gotten together for family dinners. She has been looking a bit tired though."

"Maybe one of you should offer to watch the kids for a while so she can go get looked at." Harry suggested.

The three brothers exchanged looks.

"I think I just might." Charlie agreed. "I can take a day off anytime."

"Maybe I could convince Fleur to take Hermione out for a day a pampering at the least. Charlie and I could wrangle the kids."

"You make it sound like you would have to go behind Ron's back."

George rubbed his face and sighed. "We will. I told you about his state of joblessness, the crackdown on the Ministry has just made it all that much harder. If he is even looking for a job like he tells mum. Of course, he uses mum's irate attitude about the Ministry fallout to his advantage I'm sure."

"What's for her to be mad about? She may be a pureblood, but no offense your line is considered blood traitors. Your dad reapplied for his job right?" They all nodded. "The purpose of the reapplication process was just to ensure qualified individuals were in those jobs. Not just someone who got there based on money or some sort of corruption. The process was detailed and involved interviews as well, cause you can't learn everything about someone via a paper application." Harry explained.

"To be honest, we don't really know and maybe it makes us bad sons, but we try not to read into any of it too hard."

"George, wait up." Harry called. "Look, could you try and see if you could convince Hermione to go get looked at. We may not be friends anymore, but what Ron is doing is wrong, and I don't want to think it extends beyond mooching off your parents, but what if it does?"

George gave Harry a strange look before what Harry had said dawned on him. "Yeah, Harry. I'll try anyway."

"That's all I could ask for mate, thanks."

Two weeks before Christmas Mycroft handed Harry a catalogue full of evening gowns, for women, and told Harry to pick one out he liked.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Harry inquired as he flipped through the catalogue.

"I secretly prefer the female gender and would prefer that from now on you go around the house in elegant dresses for me to watch." Mycroft retorted dripping with sarcasm.

"No need to get huffy." Harry laughed. "So, why am I picking out a dress?"

"There is a charity dinner that I must attend for work."

"Don't the people at your work know I'm male. I mean I know my hair got long there for a while, and sometimes I think my robes look like dresses…"

"My other job."

"Ah. Oh ewww, who wears that color? Please tell me no one there will be wearing that."

"Explain to me why we have attend again?"

"My job as 'the British Government' as you and Sherlock insist on calling it," Mycroft started as he walked out of the bathroom in a new tailored tux. "is not, officially on the books shall we say. I am attending this charity dinner as an aide to a department head that cannot make it this evening, I have been his aide for the past eight years and have attended many functions in his place."

"Except he doesn't actually exist."

"More, the Department doesn't actually exist, but it is far more legitimate than what I actually do, on the books anyway."

"And people don't notice?" Harry asked sounding skeptical.

"People tend only to see what they want to see." Mycroft finished. "I'd thought you'd abject more to your outfit than why we have to attend at all."

Harry shrugged. "This part I get. Society, as fucked up and backwards as it is, has certain expectations. Your job tonight is to blend in and mingle with the idiots and to gather intelligence from the ground level. You need to appear for appearances sake, to keep your more legitimate contacts, but you also need to blend in, seem no more important than the next person." Harry stated as he stood up off the bed in his emerald green gown, the gown was a form fitted wrap that flared at the bottom with a short train. "Showing up with a male soulmate would cause quite a stir, but continuing to not show up with one at all could become detrimental. Luckily for you, I have no issue with cross-dressing"

Mycroft had arranged for Harry's hair and make-up to be done professionally, having a hair stylist and make-up artist brought to the manor. Harry had needed to lengthen his hair with a few spells, ever since he had begun living with Mycroft he had kept it trimmed to a shorter, but still unruly length. A glamour already in place to hide his Adam's apple, diminish the lightning bolt scar, and soulmate mark, Harry sat in a white robe in the master bathroom and let the ladies get to work. The change was stunning to Harry, and he almost didn't quite recognize himself. After the ladies had left Harry had done a bit of unfortunately necessary tucking, slipped on the dress using magic to allow him to zip up the back without assistance, and put on the necklace Mycroft had left out for him, before leaving the bathroom and settling back on the bed to wait.

"I'm not ashamed of you." Mycroft said as he moved closer to Harry.

"Nor am I of you, but tonight calls for different tactics. A different path towards peace."

"Or war."

"Well, there is always war." Harry smiled giving Mycroft a peck on the cheek. "Either way we will stand by each other and endure it together."

Mycroft gave Harry a rare, true smile and pulled a small black pair of gloves out of his pocket. "So there is one less thing you have to glamour."

"Thank you, Mycroft. Never let anyone tell you that you don't deserve a soulmate, that you don't deserve me, because it is very much possible that you deserve a soulmate more than most and I am honored to hold that position."

"If one more man grabs my ass I am decimating this entire building." Harry grumbled into Mycroft's ear, looking as if he was leaning over to give his soulmate a peck on the cheek.

"Not to worry, I've already compiled a list of names. May want to keep watch in the newspaper, maybe we could read it together."

Harry gave Mycroft a flirty grin. "Always a way with the sweet, sweet words."

A man cleared his throat and Harry turned to see an older gentleman, hair greyed and skin starting to lose its luster, with a twenty-something hanging off his arm. "Mycroft Holmes, always a pleasure to see you here. How many years has it been now that you have attended in place of your boss."

"Eight, as you will recall, Mr. Greene."

"So formal Mycroft, call me Richard, I insist, and who is this lovely flower you've brought with you today? Finally giving up and settling? Prefer it this was myself." Mr. Greene laughed and downed the last of his champagne.

"Richard," Mycroft stressed as if it pained him to say it. "This is Harper Lawson, my soulmate."

"Oh ho oh! When's the big day then?"

"We haven't decided yet, but we are considering eloping, much more practical in my opinion." Harry interjected.

"Found yourself the perfect match there Holmes, this here is Felicity, she's been keeping me plenty happy if you know what I mean." Mr. Greene stated as he about tipped over.

"If you'll excuse us Richard I think I see an old friend just arrived." Mycroft stated taking Harry's arm in his and pulling them away from the pair. "Interesting fact about Richard Greene, he appears only ever capable remembering my name when he's about passed out drunk." Mycroft murmured when they were far enough away.

"Don't you feel special." Harry grimaced.

"Indeed."

"So did you really see someone?" Harry asked as Mycroft continued to weave them through the crowd.

"Oh yes, some new friends of ours, actually."

"What?" Harry stretched to see who they were heading towards.

"Alexander, Wesley, what a lovely surprise." Mycroft called out as they approached the two men, just loud enough to catch their attention.

"Mister Holmes." Alexander said by way of greeting. "And…"

"Harper Lawson, my soulmate." Mycroft interceded at Alexander's confused look. "Perhaps we could retire to one of the sitting rooms until dinner is called."

"Harry?" Wesley called after the door to the room had shut.

"Hello, Wesley. How are you, and what are you doing here exactly?"

"The Crown said we should try a muggle social setting, to get a feel of some of the social attitudes. Might help us with some of the reformation efforts. Why are you dressed like a girl, again?"

"Mycroft's second job, acting as a plebian aide that comes to these sort of events in stay of his boss."

"I still don't understand." Wesley said as he looked towards Alexander.

"Homosexuality is a minority among bonded pairs…"

"And?"

"What do you mean and?" Harry asked confused.

"And so what?"

"So it kind of stands out and it's kind of frowned upon, neither of which is the kind of attention we want tonight."

"Frowned upon? Among the mundanes? It isn't a choice."

"That's not the part people can't seem to swallow, it's more along the lines of reproduction. Some of the older ideas on gay bonded pairs versus straight have still carried over into this century. Why do you look so confused?"

"It is more acceptable in America, Harry." Mycroft said as he came to stand behind Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Don't get us wrong, such ideas still linger on our side of the pond too, but it has been a long time since I've personally seen it, and it is entirely possible Wesley has never come across it considering the circles we are a part of." Alexander explained. "You are okay with this though, Harry?"

"Yeah, it's not a hardship, well the act of it isn't anyway. Another person grabs my ass and it may be a different matter, but it's just another job for me, and seeing how Mycroft is my boss as well as my soulmate, whatever bit I can do for him on either front is worth it."

Mycroft released his hold on Harry's shoulders and gripped Harry's right hand. "If you'll excuse us gentlemen, we are going to go find our seats."

Harry waved and put the two wizards out of his thoughts, maybe some people just wouldn't understand.

"Thank Merlin that's over." Harry said as he climbed into the car. "I'm a little sad you didn't just let me torch the place. The number of lecherous old men in that building was ridiculous."

"Imagine the paperwork I would have to fill out if I had."

"I found you very enticing tonight, dear."

"I put on a dress and make-up and you find me enticing all of a sudden?" Harry asked with a glare in Mycroft's direction as he walked out of the bathroom, skin still tinged pink from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist.

"Your being enticing had nothing to do with what you were wearing and everything to do with the way you behaved." Mycroft grunted, pulling off Harry's towel when he walked within reach and pushed a now naked Harry down on the bed. "Don't move."

Harry watched as Mycroft took off his clothes, A moment's hesitation with each garment was the only thing keeping them from being flat out torn off the man's body. "Are you saying I'm a tease?"

Mycroft crawled on top of Harry and devoured his lips and mouth into a searing kiss.

"Mrow." Bishop cried as he put a paw on Harry's face.

Harry blearily opened his eyes, blinked a few time, and got a good look at his familiar. "Why do you have garland wrapped around you?"

"Mrow."

Harry reached out and helped untangle his disgruntled familiar. "Better?"

Bishop picked up the silver garland and dragged it out of the room.

Harry stretched on the bed and got up to head, tilting his head at the smell of, was that bacon? He followed the smell into the kitchen and found Greg Lestrade cooking breakfast at his stove. "Umm, good morning?"

"Good morning Harry, you're up a bit earlier than they said you'd be." Greg said cheerily, at Harry's confused looked he continued. "The guys planned a bit of a Christmas surprise for you, asked if I'd mine coming over a bit early and cooking."

"Actually asked?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but after I got an explanation out of Mycroft I agreed it was a good idea. Did you actually ban them from the kitchen?"

"They ruined the one in my condo, probably more out of getting caught up in their competition with each other than their actually ability to cook, but I thought it safer either way."

Greg laughed. "I didn't know what you'd like and they literally won't step foot in this place, so I'd thought I would go with simple eggs and bacon with toast. How would you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled, please." Harry got comfortable on one of the bar stools. "You don't think they need to be check on do they?"

"Will it really matter either way?"

"No, they could probably burn the manor down and I'd just go with it. They've never taken initiative like this before."

"Mycroft mentioned you'd had a rough year."

"For all of us, my past caught up with me and I got Mycroft and Sherlock dragged back into it with me."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks, I'm just glad it's been all straightened out, Mycroft's job is enough of a stress at times as it is."

Greg put a plate in front of Harry and joined him a moment later with a plate of his own food.

Harry frowned. "The guys aren't eating with us?"

"Already fed them, just sit back and relax a bit. Like you said, they could burn this place down at this point, right?"

The end result about moved Harry to tears, Mycroft and Sherlock had, somewhat, worked together to decorate the dining room and sitting room with Christmas decorations old and new. In the dining room there was a slightly crooked banner exclaiming Merry Christmas and the wreaths Harry usually put up had been wrapped in multi-color Christmas lights. A Christmas tree sat in one corner of the room, decorated top to bottom in lights, garland and ornaments. The ornaments consisted of the regular Christmas type and also what appeared to be chemistry equipment and some of Mycroft's ties.

Dinner was a peaceful affair, the silence filled with stories from Greg about Sherlock and his adventures with the skull and Bishop, interspersed with plenty of laughter to go around. When they finally retired to the sitting room, Harry openly cried. Another tree had been set up, again decorated to the brim, presents sitting underneath. A chess set had been set up between two chairs sat kitty corner on one side of the fireplace and a loveseat on the other. The loveseat had Harry's favorite blanket folded up and sat in the middle of it. The rest of the room looked like Christmas had exploded. Lights, wreaths, and streamers filling almost every inch of the room. To anyone else it may look garish, but Harry thought it was the best Christmas present he had ever received.

Mycroft pulled Harry onto the loveseat and allowed Harry to cuddle up to him and Greg and Sherlock battled it out, the scene became all that more intense after Mycroft had Greg sign a confidentiality agreement and Harry let Sherlock open up with Christmas present. Wizard Chess may never be the same again.