Chapter 14

-June 16, 1998-

As the food was being served by discreet house-elves, Sloane turned to him. "I hear from my daughters that you have had some very eventful years at Hogwarts? Even beyond the questionable reports printed in the Daily Prophet, which I find quite hard to believe."

Harry chuckled self-consciously. "Er, yeah, eventful is definitely one way to put it. Everything was so new, and combined with the fact that Voldemort"—he peeked at them covertly—"er, You-Know-Who, kept trying to off me, I certainly couldn't say I was bored."

Sloane 'hmm'-ed. "Excluding last year's … situation, there was an abundance of public attention on you during your … fourth and fifth years, if I am not mistaken?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, an embarrassed flush burning his cheeks as he thought back to those years and the ridiculous propaganda that they had no doubt read. "The Triwizard Tournament … happened, and I was … contracted to participate, and—"

"What do you mean, 'contracted'?" The question was blurted out by Astoria, who immediately looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. For some reason, Harry was reminded of Ginny, and he fought the urge to smile.

"Well, you would have seen it all, wouldn't you? The goblet spit out my name, so I had to compete."

It looked like the youngest Greengrass' inquisitiveness overrode her mortification. "But you knew what you were getting into when you put your name in, so it couldn't exactly have been a chore …"

In the face of her almost childlike eagerness, the query did not spark his anger, despite having had to explain himself countless times during that truly dismal year. "Considering that I did not enter my name, I can safely say that I was in no position to anticipate any incidents that occurred that year."

Daphne spoke up, frowning contemplatively. "Forgive my forwardness, but are you being honest? It seems quite far-fetched, and entirely too much trouble for it to be worthwhile. Although I must say I did come across that rumour more than a few times."

"It is true. Why would I have wanted more 'fame and glory', when I already got plenty of stares for being the Boy Who Lived?" he scoffed. "And I was fourteen—even I, Gryffindor extraordinaire and all that, wasn't foolish enough to think I was capable of going up, let alone holding my own, against three of-age witches and wizards with years more experience than me. Frankly, the entire fiasco scared the living daylights out of me. All I was trying to do was hang on and hope I came out of it alive."

The Greengrass sisters were eagerly attending to his every word, engrossed, and by the end of his explanation, they were nodding contritely. Probably thinking about their own involvement in fuelling the harebrained rumours, Harry thought absently. Or possibly the 'Potter Stinks' badges.

"Was the culprit ever found?" Philander asked, looking every bit as invested in the story as his daughters.

"Barty Crouch Jr. He was following orders from You-Know-Who to make sure that I would win the Tournament. By ensuring that I would reach the cup, which he had enchanted to be a Portkey, I was transported to You-Know-Who." It was difficult not to laugh at the horrified faces of the Greengrasses. "There was an interview in The Quibbler, you know. I gave a full account of what happened, and it was printed practically word for word. But it seems that despite the entire school walking around with copies, you two never got a hold of one?"

Astoria turned even redder, and Daphne stuttered, "We didn't—The Quibbler—that is to say, there weren't many among Slytherin that were … agreeable … to the idea of reading anything written in a publication like The Quibbler. And with the Educational Decrees in effect, we weren't able to even gather together to discuss what gossip we did hear."

Sloane frowned faintly at her daughters before returning her attention to Harry. "Be that as it may, that is a horrendous affair to have been put through. I trust that the rest of your years were not so monumentally appalling?"

Harry considered the question thoughtfully. The first three years certainly weren't as bad—no one else died, after all (unless one counted Quirrell, which he tried not to, at any rate). He said as much, and saw Sloane's frown deepen substantially.

"And from that, I can infer that the two years following were just as abhorrent. Tell me, Harry," she said, dabbing her lips daintily with a serviette, "were such lethal activities encouraged at Hogwarts for everyone, or were you the exception?"

"Er … well, Ron and Hermione—my close friends—stuck by me for pretty much every disaster I got myself into, and a few others helped in fifth year. And of course, during the last year, many more were involved …"

"I see." The clipped words conveyed her supreme dissatisfaction. Exchanging a swift glance with her husband, who was also frowning heavily, she said abruptly, "Tell me, Harry, what do you know about wards?"

"Er," Harry blinked, a bit lost at the sudden turn their conversation had taken. Wards? His mind flashed to the dome-like bubbles that Hermione had methodically erected around their tent every time they relocated. "Not much more than a few protection spells that Hermione put up when we were on the run this past year. A few runic wards too, but I didn't have much time to—"

"You were not in Ancient Runes though," Daphne broke in dismissively. "The only Gryffindor other than Granger who took the class was Thomas."

"I looked it up in my spare time," Harry responded wryly, raising an eyebrow at her. "Hard to believe, I know. It's no secret that I did not care overly for my marks at Hogwarts, but when your life is endangered on a regular basis, you start to take a little more interest in such things."

The elder Greengrass sister had the grace to concede with a nod, though Harry wasn't sure if it was in shame at her words or at her mother's stern look.

"I ask this," Sloane said, "because Hogwarts is one of, if not the most well-warded locations of wizarding Britain. As such, it is quite unlikely that the late headmaster Dumbledore was unaware of the dangers that assailed you within the school's walls …"

"Which means that at the very least, he stood aside and let events happen as they did, if not had a hand in them himself," Harry finished. He smiled grimly. "I quite agree. We—Ron, Hermione, and I, that is—came to the same conclusion ourselves after thinking back to certain occasions, and the matter has been brought up and talked over with my solicitor as well."

From their speculative looks, Harry could see that his words had both surprised and impressed the family.

Suddenly, Philander burst out laughing. "Oh, there is no doubt you are James' and Lily's son. They had the same need to question anything that was not consistent with their observations, and the same healthy appreciation of their mortality. It was one reason why they were such an effective Auror partnership as well."

Harry couldn't contain his shock. "My mother was an Auror?"

"Why, of course! One of the best the department had, and they pulled every trick in the book to keep her employ for as long as possible. You see, she was very clear that once the war was over, she would be quitting Law Enforcement and pursuing her own interests." Harry drank in his words greedily, and he continued, "You have no doubt heard of her prowess in Charms—Flitwick would sing her praises to anyone who would listen. And Slughorn was equally enamoured, both of her Potions skill and her innate charisma. She never limited herself to just these subjects, however; her interests lay in many directions. Wandlore appealed greatly to her, and she had already arranged a short course with Ollivander. She had also wished to do a Curse Breaking apprenticeship with the goblins, as well as delve into the theory and magic behind lycanthropy—an activity made all the more important by having Remus as a friend." Philander broke off, smiling wistfully, a faraway look in his eyes. "Yes, a truly formidable woman, Lily was."

Sloane was smiling gently too in shared memory. "It is no wonder that James—and many others—were so captivated by her; she had a fire that seemed to draw everyone in without trying. Despite their best efforts, she had the grudging admiration of even some of the more staunch purebloods, though they would never admit it. It was not uncommon to find Lily surrounded by members of all Houses in the library together discussing homework, rivalries forgotten. I believe those sessions weighed heavily on the minds of many who remained neutral in this war when they would otherwise have sided with the Dark Lord."

Harry mulled over their words in the pensive silence that followed. This was the most he had ever heard about his mother, and he took a few moments to savour it. He knew, of course, how she looked—Hagrid's album had seen to that—but now he could put a personality and demeanour to her body. A kind light in her eyes, a studious mien as she absently pushed back a lock of hair, a ruthless stance when she duelled … A person was taking slowly and surely shape in his mind's eye. An ache spread through his chest as he realised he would never be able to share stories or laugh with this strong, marvellous woman—but accompanying it was a sense of awe and pride. This was his mother, the person who gave birth to him, fought for him, and then died so that he could live.

"Why did you never attempt to contact me?" He couldn't quite keep the hurt from leaking into his voice. "Until a few days ago, I had no inkling of any remaining relatives beyond the Black family."

An expression of great consternation crossed Philander's face. "We did. We were aware that James and Lily had named us as potential guardians in their will, and were hoping to at least have some connection with you. However, Lily's sister and her husband were appointed your rightful custodians, and we had no say in the matter. It was deemed best for you, between Minister Bagnold and headmaster Dumbledore, to block all contact with the magical world, so that none would catch wind of your location."

Harry frowned. He could see how that made sense, of a sort, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"That did not stop us from continuing to try to find you, of course. But when years of searching yielded no results, we decided to wait until you embarked on your Hogwarts years. And then …" Philander averted his eyes. "Daphne was Sorted into Slytherin. We received a letter from her that very night, disclosing the whispers she had heard of the Dark Lord regaining power. Sloane and I were terrified, there's no other way to put it. We knew that if those rumours were true, the deep roots the Dark Lord had planted in Slytherin would make it nearly impossible for Daphne, and then Astoria, to show any support for the Boy Who Lived without being immediately targeted themselves. So we decided—selfishly, I admit—that it would be better if they kept their heads down and remained neutral and unobtrusive, attaching themselves to neither the Dark Lord nor you. After the Dark Lord's defeat, well …" He sighed. "Forgive me, Harry, but I could not see how you would welcome a conversation, let alone a meeting with us, when we are not deserving of such allowances." He hung his head in shame.

"I understand." Harry spoke into the silence.

Philander's head jerked up in disbelief. Harry locked eyes with him, and spoke passionately. "I completely understand, Philander. In fact, I'm glad. Because it means that less lives were in danger, and your family made it through the devastation wreaked by the war intact. It means that I have not lost more members of my family to Voldemort, that you're still alive to have a conversation with. So there's nothing to forgive. But if it's truly needed, then, er …" He racked his brain for the words he had read not two days ago. "Lord Greengrass, you and your family are hereby absolved of any and all perceived transgressions committed upon the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. Forgiven and forgotten," he added, smiling.

-July 3, 1998-

As he stepped into the bustling activity of the Three Broomsticks, barely sidestepping a staggering, red-faced wizard, Harry wondered again if he shouldn't simply head back and spend a quiet evening with Teddy and Andy instead. The last couple of weeks had been a slow and steady increase in the number of people he met, courtesy of Andy's and Hermione's meddling. And now here he was, weaving invisibly through the Friday night regulars and Hogwarts staff alike, to a table in the corner where he was finally going to meet up with the old DA members.

Only one person was there so far, slowly sipping a chilled butterbeer. Harry slid in opposite him, finally throwing off his Invisibility Cloak. A wand was in his face as he said, "Hey, Dean."

"Jesus, Harry, warn a bloke, would you?" Tucking the wand back into its holster, Dean set his bottle down and gave him a friendly grin. "So, Oh Great Chosen One Who Vanquished He Who Must Not Be Named, what brings you into this neck of the woods? Finally decided hermit-dom isn't your calling, have you?"

Harry kicked him under the table, feeling the heat rise in his face. "Oh, shove off, you git. I'm here now, aren't I? And besides, I hear you've framed and hung your Order of Merlin above your fireplace?" he teased back.

Dean's complexion, unlike Harry's own, simply did not do red. What's more, after enduring years of Seamus' ribbing at anything and everything possible, Harry rather suspected that he was basically inured to all embarrassment. "No shame in letting mere mortals bask in the glory of it," Dean shrugged, grinning. "Mum's right proud, though whenever she sees it, she goes back and forth between telling me what a brave man I've become and scolding me for fighting in a war without telling her."

They laughed together, and Harry said, "Well, you should count your lucky stars, mate. It's a far sight better than Mrs. Weasley and Andy; they just seem to whisk plates of food out of nowhere whenever they can get a hold of me. And even my crotchety old house-elf won't help me escape their clutches."

Dean snorted. "They do have a point, you know." Reaching over the table, he picked up Harry's hand, pinching his skin between his thumb and forefinger. "Look at you—you're a bag of skin and bones, is what you are. And on top of that, you peck and nibble at your food like a little bird. It's no wonder they want to fatten you up, mate."

He continued grousing good-naturedly, but Harry couldn't hear his words. His entire attention was focused on the points of contact between his hand and the larger one holding it. Oh, he thought faintly, as sparks zinged through his fingers. Oh.

"Harry?"

His hand was cool on the tabletop once more, but he could still feel the remnants of an electric current buzzing under his skin. Blinking, he said, "Yeah? Sorry, wool-gathering. You know, for a teenaged bloke, you do a pretty good impression of a mother of seven," he quipped, laughing at Dean's mock-affronted expression.

Before Dean could respond, shouts of greeting rang as Seamus, Lee, Parvati, Katie, and Alicia walked over. Hugs and pats on the back were exchanged, and they all sat down.

As conversation flowed, Harry rubbed his palm surreptitiously, sneaking quick peeks at Dean as he did so. Surely, this was a mite late to be realising he was attracted to males? As his eyes traced the other's smooth, dark skin and strong jaw, he sighed quietly, resigned. Late or not, he was definitely attracted to blokes. But he had been in love with Ginny, and he still thought Parvati was stunning, so he also liked women. Bisexual, his mind supplied, remembering Mr. Weasley's very thorough Talk during the summer before second year. Or, he considered, thinking back to Hermione's armful of pamphlets and detailed definitions, pansexual?

Seamus bumped his shoulder, breaking him out of his musings. "So, where's the rest of the golden trio? Aren't you three always attached at the hip?"

Harry nudged him back playfully. "When they're attached to the mouth most of the time, it's hard to stay stuck to their hips. Er, you did know they're, er, involved, yeah?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Mate, it was a bit hard to miss them sucking each other's face off once you'd offed Voldemort. Thought you'd have been a part of that too, though," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I—we—that is—" he sputtered, mortified at the insinuation. Sharing a dorm with Seamus for six years had hardened him to a certain lack of filter and tact, but Harry was sure that at that moment, he was at least the colour of a newly-painted fire engine. "We—we're not like that!" he protested finally, frowning as the whole table guffawed, "they're like siblings to me. And they're very much in love with each other," he said firmly.

The universe hates me, he thought to himself as Ron and Hermione appeared by their booth at that moment, triggering fresh peals of laughter around the table.

Hours later, Harry was feeling pleasantly tipsy. As each person had taken a turn to buy another round, seats had shifted, and Hermione was now resting her head on his shoulder as he leaned heavily into Dean on his other side. His thigh was tingling where it pressed against Dean's, and he knew he had a goofy grin on his face.

Over the top of Hermione's head, Ron beamed lopsidedly at him, a glass of Firewhiskey raised in a toast. "Help a mate out, will you? Is it 'those who ride a dragon together stay together' or 'those who camp together stay together'? 'Cause Herm—Her—Mione says it's the camping one, but riding a dragon's way cooler, innit?"

No one else was paying any attention to their conversation, but Harry gave the question serious thought. Under the alcohol-induced haziness, neither option seemed quite right. "Personally, I prefer 'those who defeat a troll together stay together', myself."

Lifting her head, Hermione placed a wet kiss on Harry's cheek, and another on Ron's. "Yes, that's where it all started, isn't it? My heroic boys," she said contentedly, giving them another peck each before falling back onto Harry's shoulder.

A warm, fond feeling bloomed in his heart as he idly looked around. Across from him, Ernie Macmillan was thumping Justin Finch-Fletchley's back as they laughed uproariously at something Angelina had said. Beside her, George was passing a hand casually over Michael Corner's and Zacharias Smith's drinks, a sly look on his face. Padma and Parvati were giggling about Merlin knew what with Lavender and Luna, and Seamus was waving his hands about excitedly, narrating a harrowing tale of daring and adventure to anyone who would listen And here he was, cocooned amidst them all, surrounded by those who stuck by him through the worst of it all.

"Alright, Harry?" Dean asked softly, the hot breaths misting over his ear sending shivers down his back.

"Yeah," he whispered back, flushing under the inviting gaze even as his grin stretched wider. This close, he could see the different shades of brown in his almost-black eyes, and his own reflection seemed to approach nearer.

They're going to kiss, he realised, suppressing the wild giggles that threatened to erupt. Warm lips descended on his a second later, and he lost all ability to think. "Mm," he sighed happily, snuggling closer, vaguely noting that Hermione's head had landed in his lap.

With only Ginny as his previous experience—no, Cho did not count, no matter what anyone said—he didn't have very much to compare to. But what he did know was the he liked it. Immensely. There were similarities, like that delightful thing Dean was doing with his tongue, and it occurred to Harry that Dean and Ginny used to snog each other—wasn't that an odd thought. But while Ginny's kisses were fierce and confident, Dean kissed like he had all the time in the world, languidly and sure. His strong fingers were curled in his hair, thumb stroking the corners of his jaw.

If he hadn't been intoxicated before, he definitely was now. His last coherent thought, before he gave himself over completely to the thrilling sensations, was that he hoped he would remember this come morning.

A/N: Whadaya know, I updated! Holidays kind of got away from me, especially as I hadn't seen my family and friends in months and months. And as this is the one story that has far more plot than any of the others, it takes a lot more time to write :c

Romance tends to make me feel all fuzzy but also want to cringe, so writing that last bit was a battle with myself (ugh, how am I going to keep going?). I hope it turned out alright! Also, I thought I'd give dating the sections a try—something I keep a note of for myself but realised that you guys might appreciate it too. Just let me know if you prefer it with or without the dates? Thanks!

Hope you've all had a lovely break, and happy new year! Reviews are loved! :) :)