When Harry awoke, Helena was still asleep with her arm wrapped around him. It was so pleasant that he simply lay there for a long time, enjoying her embrace. This is heaven, he thought, and a feeling of gratitude overtook him.
Eventually he rolled over, and he spent a while just looking at her. Her soft curls were disheveled, and he admired the way the morning light caught the strawberry blond colour. It wasn't like Ginny's vivid red hair or his mother's rich auburn—it was Helena's own colour and he found it enchanting.
He made a game of trying to count the faint freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. Forty-four? Or did I miss those three? Her nostrils flared very slightly as she breathed, and he deliberately synchronised his breath with hers.
If only I could persuade her to stay with me, he thought. He knew his time with her was running out, perhaps only a few more weeks, if that.
He felt an overwhelming need to kiss her—on her forehead, her shoulder, the inside of her upturned wrist. He knew he oughtn't wake her but he did it anyway, and then he returned to his original vantage point to watch her open her eyes.
They were more grey than green, and their shape was different to his own. There were little flecks of colour inside the irises, and he watched them shift as her eyes began to focus. He never would have been able to see them before he'd had his vision corrected.
'Did you wake me on purpose?' she asked.
'How can you accuse me of something so dastardly?'
'Because I know what a greedy boy you are, and that you'll stop at nothing to get what you want.'
'That's true. They're always calling me single-minded,' he said, moving towards her, and they started the day as he'd intended.
'I wish Vanessa could have stayed,' he said afterwards. 'There's plenty of room, after all.'
'Vanessa wishes she could have stayed as well, I can assure you, but her parents aren't as liberal as mine. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd installed a charm to monitor her virginity. Or wards, perhaps.'
'What, like a rune somewhere? I didn't see any, and I investigated rather thoroughly.'
'You certainly did. And you deserve points for such a novel application of the Hovering Charm. If you ever sit your N.E.W.T.s you should ask for extra credit.'
'I can't possibly be the first wizard to discover that—the Hovering Charm was clearly made for threesomes.' And for subduing trolls, he thought idly.
She sat up and looked around. 'What time is it anyway?'
He looked at his pocket watch on the nightstand and said, 'Nearly eight o'clock.'
Helena shook her head indignantly before flopping back onto the bed. 'Not nearly late enough. We should go back to sleep.'
'But I'm hungry,' he whinged dramatically, and she laughed at him.
'Then ask Kreacher to bring us something.'
'No, I'm certain he was up all night and I don't want to bother him. But we can go have a look ourselves—there are bound to be leftovers, or I can even prove to you I know how to cook.'
'I'd like to see that,' she said, sitting up again. 'For all I know, your cooking skills are just talk.'
He pulled on his boxer shorts and asked, 'Do you want a dressing gown or pyjamas?'
'Did I see some glow-in-the-dark pyjamas on your shelf? If so, I want those.'
He fetched the Prongs pyjamas from the wardrobe and brought them to her, and when he saw her in them he felt another wave of affection. How lovely it would be to wake up with her every morning.
Putting on his dressing gown, he opened the door and they stepped into the corridor. She looked around and asked, 'Is the corridor longer than usual?'
'Yes, definitely.' Noticing that a number of the doors were still closed, he added, 'It appears the party isn't over yet.'
'I hope they aren't expecting you to cook for them. That would clearly exceed the bounds of the implied contract.'
They proceeded downstairs and eventually passed the portrait of Padfoot, who was curled asleep with an empty bottle of Firewhisky. 'I wonder where he got it,' said Harry. 'Do you think someone tried tossing it in like a treat?'
'You'll have to ask him yourself once he's awake.'
To Harry's surprise, there were several house-elves in the kitchen. 'Good morning, Mr Harry Potter!' squeaked one of them. 'Would Mr Harry Potter and his witch like breakfast?'
'Yes, please,' said Harry, and they gave the elf instructions.
They were drinking tea at the table when Darren strolled into the kitchen, dressed only in boxers. 'Morning, Snitchbottom—that was a great party. How are you doing?'
Harry was a little puzzled by Darren's nonchalance but replied, 'I'm well, thanks. Is there something I can help you with?'
'I was hoping to borrow a house-elf, maybe procure some breakfast for my companion and me. Fortunately it appears you have a few to spare, so with your leave I'll avail myself.'
'Be my guest,' replied Harry, relishing the absurdity of the situation.
They were surprised by the sudden arrival of Hermione's otter. 'Harry, I'm so sorry to bother you this early, but unfortunately time is of the essence. It appears Sally-Ann Perks was actually a Polyjuiced Rita Skeeter. The Prophet hasn't arrived yet—we're anticipating a late edition—but we're particularly concerned for Helena, whose surname might be revealed. I can provide more details in person. Again, I'm so sorry.'
Harry immediately looked at Helena, who had turned pale. 'What do you need?' he asked. 'I can be at Gringotts in five minutes if you need wards.'
'I need to go home,' she said, standing. 'I have to warn them.'
He rose and said, 'Will you be back?'
'We'll see. I won't know until I get home.'
'I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.'
'Of course it's not your fault,' replied Helena. 'You can't help being newsworthy.' She kissed him quickly and hurried towards the stairs.
'Can I help?' asked Darren.
Harry ran his hand through his hair. 'I don't know, I can hardly think straight. I should probably reply to Hermione first.' He conjured Prongs and said, 'Hermione, yes, please come over. I'm in the kitchen.'
Hermione and Ryan arrived less than a minute later. 'Harry, I'm so sorry. Are you all right?' she said.
'I'm still processing. What happened? How did you discover it was her?'
'She tried giving me Veritaserum. The charmed goblet detected it.'
'And she got away, I assume?'
'Yes, we were on the roof, and she just stepped over the parapet and Disapparated.'
'Thank Merlin you didn't drink it,' said Harry. 'That would have been a disaster.'
'I know, I can scarcely imagine. Where's Helena?'
'She went home to warn her family.'
'We sent them an owl last night, to what we thought was her family business. Strauss Leather Goods in Northampton.'
Harry shrugged and shook his head. 'I've no idea, honestly. Who else knows about this?'
'Ginny, Ron, Janet, Ginny's friend Wendy, and Blaise Zabini.'
'Blaise Zabini?' repeated Harry, more bewildered than upset.
'Yes, he and Ginny are friends. But nothing more.'
'Right,' said Harry, who had begun pacing. 'I'm trying to remember what she might have overheard. I know I was talkative but I don't think I revealed anything classified, except possibly a bit of the prophecy.'
'There was a prophecy?' interjected Darren. The others looked at him and he said, 'Sorry, carry on.'
'I think I quoted the seventh month bit to Ginny, but that was all. Nothing about thrice defying.' Darren raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything.
'That's probably all right,' said Hermione. 'It won't mean anything out of context.'
'She kept asking me about Helena, and I'm certain I said her given name but never her surname.'
'You told Daphne her surname.'
'Blast! That was probably the only time it was spoken all night. She also asked how much the party cost, and I told her I didn't know, which is probably worse than if I'd provided a number. I'm sure she'll just make something up.'
'Did you mention Vanessa's name?' asked Hermione.
'Ugh, Vanessa! No, I don't think so, but how do you know it?'
'I met her last night, with Helena. I don't think I ever heard her surname.'
'I did, near the tapestry. Do you think Rita could have been Disillusioned?'
'I suppose we'll find out,' said Hermione.
The house-elf arrived with breakfast. 'I'm sorry,' said Harry, 'I should have offered you something. Are you hungry?'
'There you are!' came a voice. 'And yes, I'm very hungry.'
They all turned to find Romilda Vane, who was wearing a brassiere, knickers, and an unbuttoned man's shirt—presumably Darren's.
'Sorry to keep you waiting, Renata,' said Darren. 'There's been a bit of an emergency and I got distracted.'
'It's Romilda,' she said, putting her hands on Darren's chest, 'and if you get it wrong again I'll have to punish you.'
'Can we please focus?' said Hermione. 'First, I don't need any more breakfast, but Ryan might.'
'Yes, please,' he said, and a house-elf arrived to take his order.
'Next, you should probably eat something,' she said to Harry. 'I imagine you're rather hungry,' she added with a smirk.
He smiled in spite of himself. 'I am,' he said before sitting down to eat.
'Third, I assume Darren and Romilda aren't your only lodgers.'
'Based on the length of the third floor corridor, I doubt it,' said Harry between bites.
'Darren,' said Hermione. 'Could you please ask all the guests to leave?'
'Really?' said Harry. 'That seems inhospitable. I'd hate to interrupt them.'
'I agree,' said Darren. 'This is the future of wizarding Britain we're talking about. One instance of coitus interruptus could plant the seeds for the next war.'
Romilda, who had begun eating Helena's breakfast, burst out laughing. 'You're just too funny!'
Hermione sighed. 'Fine, they can stay. But I assume you'd rather they not have a front row seat. Is it better to contain them, or should we go to your bedroom?'
'Yes, my bedroom is still warded so that's probably our best bet.'
'Perfect,' said Romilda. 'I'm dying to see that enormous bed of yours. Everyone was talking about it.'
'Just brilliant,' groaned Harry. 'I assume it'll feature heavily in this morning's article.'
'That and your three fathers,' said Romilda. 'And how much gold you have.'
'I'm sorry?'
'Well, you weren't specific. The quotation I heard was "I've three dead fathers but no end of gold."'
'Bloody hell,' moaned Harry, his head in his palm.
'Nobody's going to care,' said Darren. 'You're the Black heir and you turned down Silver Arrow. They've figured it out.'
'What else has everyone figured out?' snapped Harry. 'Will there be a sidebar about the Dursleys?'
'Who?' asked Romilda.
'Forget it,' said Hermione. 'We should go upstairs.'
When they reached the fourth floor Harry entered his bedroom and everyone followed. 'Er, Romilda,' he said. 'I don't think we require your assistance.'
'I'm not leaving Darren,' she insisted.
Everyone looked at Darren, who simply shrugged and took Romilda's hand. Harry continued pacing, taking occasional bites from the plate he'd set on the bureau, Hermione and Ryan sat at the small table, and Darren and Romilda made themselves comfortable on the bed.
'How do you suppose Rita knew Sally-Ann wasn't coming? Could she have overheard it at Gringotts?' asked Hermione.
'Impossible,' said Harry.
'He's right,' said Ryan. 'They're bulletproof.'
'Yes, they wouldn't even help me retrieve my invitation when it got lost,' declared Romilda.
Hermione looked at Harry, who shook his head. 'There's no point,' he muttered.
'You told me here at the house,' she continued, 'so that's not a possibility. You have anti-Animagus wards, right?'
'Yes.'
'You told us at the pub,' said Darren.
'Bugger, you're right,' said Harry. 'That has to be it. I even told Gary their names, since he was in Hufflepuff.'
Ryan sat up. 'Shall I ward the pub?'
'What kind of wards?' asked Darren.
'Anti-Animagus,' said Hermione. 'She's got a beetle form—that's how she spies on people.'
'I'd have to look that up,' said Ryan. 'Do you know if anti-Animagus wards are complicated?'
'I don't think so, and there are dozens of books about wards in the library downstairs.'
'The locked room?' asked Romilda. 'May I come see it?'
'Yes,' snapped Hermione. 'Have a look at the Grimoire.'
'Hermione!' scolded Harry.
'I apologise,' said Hermione. 'Under no circumstances should you touch the large spellbook on the table.'
They exited the bedroom and went to the library together, and Harry opened the door. 'Wow,' said Romilda. 'This room is amazing. Why didn't you let us come in last night?'
'Because it's full of books on Dark magic,' said Hermione. 'Why do you think?'
Romilda pouted and turned to Darren, who put his arm around her rather inappropriately.
Hermione pulled a few books off the shelves and handed one to Ryan. Within minutes they found instructions in two separate books. 'Right,' said Ryan. 'I'll take care of it tonight after closing.'
They returned upstairs, where they encountered several people milling about the corridor. 'Harry, brilliant party!' called Suresh, standing in a doorway.
'Cheers,' replied Harry, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He was glad people had enjoyed themselves.
Lyle's friend Connor stuck his head out from behind Suresh. 'Yes, thanks again.'
'Are there any house-elves running around?' asked Suresh. 'Or leftovers?'
'Try the kitchen,' said Harry. 'Bottom floor.'
They returned to the bedroom and Hermione asked, 'Should you instruct Kreacher to deliver the Prophet as soon as it arrives?'
'Yes, good point—it's always delivered to the kitchen.' He turned his mind to the house-elf and thought, Kreacher, I'm terribly sorry to disturb you. Would you please deliver the Prophet to my bedroom as soon as it arrives. And perhaps you could send some of the other elves up and down the corridor to see if anyone's hungry.
With pleasure, Master!
Cheers, off with you! thought Harry buoyantly. He had no idea why he wasn't depressed, but he decided to run with it.
'Mischief managed,' he said.
Hermione stared at him in amazement. 'Did you just communicate wordlessly with Kreacher?'
'Yes, it's my new trick. I've had it for several weeks now.'
A gong sounded, and Ryan's breakfast appeared on the table. Moments later several more trays appeared over the bed, where Darren and Romilda had made themselves at home.
'Are these silver?' asked Romilda.
'No,' said Hermione. 'The silver ones were stolen during the war.'
'You should should get new ones, Harry,' said Romilda. 'Seeing how rich you are.'
'This is my life now, isn't it?' said Harry, with a fresh wave of exasperation. 'Because Merlin forbid I go a single week without some new target on my back. Do you think they'll start calling me Lord Black again?'
'I wish they would,' said Romilda. 'I liked it.'
'Lord Black is dead and buried,' said Darren. 'Harry Potter-Black, on the other hand ...'
'I'm not changing my name.'
'Don't you want to rehabilitate House Black?' persisted Darren. 'I thought it was your godfather's dying request.'
No, Sirius's dying request was to take the prophecy and run, thought Harry irritably.
'He's right,' said Hermione. 'That's unquestionably the fastest way to rehabilitate House Black.'
'These are wizards we're talking about,' said Harry. 'It doesn't need to be fast. I'm not changing my name.'
'I think you should change it,' announced Romilda. 'You're too rich to have a boring surname like Potter.'
'You could change it to Peverell,' suggested Hermione.
'Or Mimsy-Porpington!' exploded Harry. 'Why are you all ganging up on me like this?'
'We're trying to pass the time until the Prophet arrives,' said Darren. 'Do you reckon there's any beer left?'
'I can't get over this bed,' said Romilda. 'Did you buy it somewhere? It must have cost a fortune.'
'No, it came with the house,' said Hermione. 'Generations of Dark wizards were conceived there.'
'Really?' exclaimed Romilda, running her hands over the bed. 'That's fascinating.'
There was a knock at the door. 'Harry?' said Helena's voice.
He turned and opened the door. 'I'm so glad you're back. How are you? How did everything go with your family? Please, come in.'
She looked around. 'I see you've gathered spectators. And you've found some more inmates for your enormous bed.'
'It's awfully comfortable,' said Romilda. 'But I suppose you knew that already.'
'Helena, I believe you've met Hermione. These are my teammates Ryan and Darren. And for reasons I can't fathom, this is Romilda Vane.'
'I'm sure I'd be pleased to meet you under different circumstances,' said Helena. 'But I'm currently experiencing a waking nightmare.'
'I'm sorry,' said Harry. 'How did things go with your family? Apparently Ryan sent a letter last night to the shop.'
'Yes, my grandfather found it this morning, and so they already reinforced the wards. They were still fairly strong from the war, and of course Charms are our specialty.'
'And your parents?'
Helena looked around the room, clearly uncomfortable speaking in front of a crowd, but then she muttered, 'Oh, what's the point.' In her normal voice she said, 'They'd figured out I was seeing someone, obviously, but I don't think they'd have guessed in a hundred years it was you. And they're not bothered by the threesome, considering I'd initiated it. Although you might have trouble with my brothers if they see you. Overprotective, you know.'
Harry sighed. 'I didn't even know you had brothers.'
'How would you? I never told you,' she said, running her hand tenderly through his hair.
'I never asked,' he said quietly.
'Sorry, I couldn't hear that last bit,' said Romilda.
'Romilda!' snapped Harry. More quietly he said to Helena, 'Do you want me to ask everyone to leave? I'm happy to, if that's what you'd prefer.'
'No, I should get accustomed to having an audience. And I'll admit they're diverting.'
'Was that you in the photograph, with the robes?' asked Romilda.
'Yes.'
'I can't believe you didn't want to be seen with Harry Potter. That's every witch's dream nowadays. Of course I was ahead of the trend.'
'Oi!' cried Darren.
'Obviously I like you best,' she said to Darren, pulling him into an embrace.
'Excuse me, could you please refrain from snogging in my bed?' asked Harry. 'There are plenty of other rooms if you're desperate.'
Darren looked at Romilda hopefully but she pulled away and said, 'No, I'd rather watch. We can snog later.'
The Prophet still hadn't arrived, so people found ways to pass the time. Ryan and Hermione went to the roof to retrieve the stereo system, and Darren and Romilda played Exploding Snap on the bed. Harry and Helena sat at the table, where a house-elf had provided breakfast for her.
'Tell me about your brothers,' said Harry.
'They're three and five years older than I am. Both of them work in the shop—I imagine they'll take over the business someday.'
'Aren't you interested in that as well?'
'It's fine for now, but I'd rather teach Charms. I've been pursuing a Mastery in conjunction with my work.'
'You're so amazing,' he said. 'I shouldn't be surprised, of course—I already knew you were brilliant.'
'You are too, Harry.'
'No I'm not. Hermione's the brilliant one. I'm the weapon.'
'I should never have told you that,' said Helena. 'You're much cleverer than anyone gives you credit for, yourself especially.'
'I don't even have my N.E.W.T.s. And, frankly, I hope I never have to sit them.'
'N.E.W.T.s aren't what make a person clever, any more than magical strength is what makes a person powerful.'
'Oh, Helena ... I'm going to miss you.'
'I'll miss you too, Harry.'
'You're not splitting up, are you?' asked Romilda.
Harry gazed longingly at Helena, his eyes large with emotion. She looked at him tenderly, and he responded by comically batting his eyes, as he'd done during their unsuccessful attempt to apply her false eyelashes.
'Yes, I'm afraid so,' said Helena.
'But why?' asked Romilda. 'Don't you know how rich he is?'
'He lives in an enormous townhouse and has a house-elf, not to mention he's a league Seeker and a lord. So yes, I'd worked it out.'
'Didn't he buy you anything, then?' asked Romilda. 'Or give you something from the family vault?'
'I think there's a cursed tiara,' suggested Harry.
'No,' said Helena. 'Just dinner. And champagne once.'
'No wonder she's leaving you,' said Romilda.
Hermione and Ryan returned. 'Anything yet?' she asked.
'No, not a peep,' said Harry.
'Merlin, it's nearly ten o'clock,' said Hermione, looking at her wristwatch. 'I don't think the Prophet has ever arrived this late.'
'I reckon it'll be good,' said Darren.
There was a gong, and another tray appeared. On it lay the rolled-up Prophet, along with a vase of flowers.
Everyone just looked at it for a long moment. 'Shall I make copies?' proposed Hermione.
'Yes,' said Harry glumly, 'unless we all want to read it together in my enormous bed.'
Hermione duplicated the newspaper before Romilda could protest, and each couple unrolled their copy. The headline blared:
PLEASURE TIMES TWO: Harry Potter's Sex-Filled Birthday Bacchanal
By Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent
Last night Harry Potter's opulent townhouse was the scene for a decadent orgy attended by scores of young witches and wizards, culminating with the host's sensual encounter with not one but two stunning witches.
Nearly two hundred guests descended upon the Black family townhouse—which still retains the flavour of centuries of Dark magic—to celebrate Harry Potter's nineteenth birthday. The young hero, who suffered so much during the war, has decisively claimed its spoils and assumed the mantle of the most envied wizard in Great Britain, if not the world.
Clad in elegantly tailored robes—charcoal with green trim—Harry had a vast array of potential partners to choose among. To this end he greeted guests for hours, holding court beneath a massive tapestry depicting the Black family tree, and he willingly received the aggressive advances of a fourteen-year-old Veela and a sultry, dark-haired classmate before finally selecting two gorgeous witches to share the ecstasies of his scandalously large bed.
No expense was spared in Harry's night of debauchery, and the host was by no means the only one to experience hedonic bliss. Dozens of couples found each other as the night progressed, and an endless series of guest rooms were claimed for intimate exploration.
Many couples, however, eschewed privacy and chose instead to cavort in plain sight, whether in alcoves, armchairs, or on the roof, which hosted a frenzy of foreplay disguised as dancing. Alcohol flowed freely, served by dozens of house-elves on loan from Hogwarts—itself a shocking act of favouritism from Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.
Although Harry now enjoys every conceivable privilege, not least the staggering fortune left to him by his godfather, Sirius Black, his triumph is marred by the tragedy that defines him: the murder of his parents just months after his first birthday. His tongue loosened by Firewhisky, Harry spoke freely of his loss, referring not to one but three dead fathers. Although he unmistakably resembles James Potter, his presumed biological father, Harry's choice of words raises important questions about his late mother's relationship with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and whether their surrogate fatherhood was in fact a tribute to her. It was revealed at the end of the war that she had similarly ensnared Severus Snape, late headmaster of Hogwarts and longtime spy against He Who Must Not Be Named.
Regarding Lily Potter, née Evans, Harry created a sensation by wearing a lily-of-the-valley boutonnière in her memory. As the night progressed, numerous wizards were seen adorning their own lapels with blooms appropriated from the many vases and floral displays throughout the house. Wizarding florists should prepare for a flood of requests for boutonnières henceforth, as Potter's newfound foppery has clearly set a standard.
Many guests exclaimed over the extravagance of the event, which was richly catered by the aforementioned elves. And this was no casual gathering, as would be more appropriate for one so young—quite the opposite. Harry splashed out in the grandest style possible, engaging Gringotts to handle all security measures, from portkey invitations to charmed goblets protecting guests from Love Potions and other dangerous draughts. When asked about the cost of the event, Harry was unable even to recall the number. He said, ''I don't know, a lot. Doesn't matter of course. Drop in the bloody bucket. I've three dead fathers but no end of gold."
And here lies the pain at the heart of what appears to be a charmed existence. For all his current sensual indulgences, Harry is forever burdened with trauma and loss. When entering his specially warded bedroom just prior to his night of rapture in the arms and legs of two dazzling witches, he announced, 'Nothing but the best for Lord Black! Except for family, of course—I really drew the short straw there. But at least I have two hot witches.'
As to the aforementioned partners, the rampant speculation over the identity of Harry's girlfriend here ends: the envied young witch is Helena Strauss, 19, of Northamptonshire. Golden-haired with a touch of ginger—a reminder of Harry's auburn-haired mother and his former girlfriend, the flame-haired Ginevra Weasley—Helena received special commendation on her Charms N.E.W.T. in 1998. With brains as well as beauty, she sets a high bar for the many witches yearning for a spot in Harry's capacious bed.
The second witch remains unidentified, but she was equally lovely with dark hair and eyes, and a voluptuous figure. Harry enjoyed a feast for all senses on the night of his nineteenth birthday, and his twentieth year will surely be filled with innumerable carnal delights.
And yet Harry's insatiable needs were in plain view. When separated from Helena, he moaned incessantly for her, enquiring repeatedly as to her whereabouts and expressing a strong desire to couple. And in her absence, he made advances on a new acquaintance, declaring, 'You're a fit bird! Maybe I'll owl you when Helena dumps me.'
Why, you might ask, would the lovely Helena spurn the Saviour of the Wizarding World? Alas, the combination of his traumatic past and his remarkable accomplishments has produced a young man with a shockingly large ego. Gone is the humble boy of yesteryear—replaced instead by an unapologetically proud young wizard, who wears his arrogance as a tribute to one of his dead fathers. Amid the vast array of sweets and pastries served in the palatial dining room was an enormous pyramid of Chocolate Frogs, each one containing Harry's own card. Guests were appalled by the display of egotism but perfectly willing to avail themselves of Harry's self-aggrandising hospitality.
The party was well attended both by Harry's Hogwarts classmates and by a number of guests who attended other schools, presumably Beauxbatons or somewhere in North America. One of the more surprising guests, in contrast to the underage Veela, was a superannuated vampire, accompanied by two enthusiastic thralls. This raises questions both about Harry's judgment—in exposing scores of young adults to such an unsavoury lifestyle—and also about how he made the vampire's acquaintance in the first place. We may be witnessing only the first step of Harry's descent into irretrievable dissipation.
The Prophet nevertheless wishes Harry an exceedingly happy birthday, just shy of his twentieth, and we also congratulate him on catching the Snitch for the Chudley Cannons three weeks in a row.
Harry was mute with horror, and Helena took his hand and began stroking it gently.
'Sweet Merlin, are those numbers accurate?' exclaimed Darren.
Harry looked up in a daze. 'What numbers?'
'In the sidebar,' said Darren. 'Blimey!'
Helena pointed out a sidebar Harry had missed, which claimed to reveal his expenses and net worth. The cost estimate for the party was way too high, and they trebled the value of the Potter legacy. Worst, however, was the number provided for the Black holdings—Harry suspected it was centuries out of date.
'Good lord, no! They're not even close!'
'You mean you're even richer than that?' asked a wide-eyed Romilda.
'No, those numbers are massively inflated. Oh my god, are people actually going to believe this?'
'They might,' said Ryan. 'Honestly, that's about what I would have guessed.'
'Are you serious? You really thought I had that kind of money?'
'It's common knowledge that the Potters were well off, and I knew you were the last of them. And the Blacks are legendary—older than Stonehenge and utterly without scruples.'
'Perhaps,' said Hermione, 'but they were completely irrational for the last hundred years or so. When the goblin gave Harry the ring, he told us they'd squandered nearly everything.'
'So what's the real number then?' asked Romilda.
'Originally it was in the same range as the Potter number, but I gave away a third of it.'
'Are you crazy?' exclaimed Romilda. 'Why would you do that? You're only ordinary loaded now.'
'To support my godson, who's also related to the Blacks. But why are we even talking about this?' he said, resuming his pacing. 'I can scarcely wrap my brain around what I just read.'
Hermione looked furious. 'You just read an appalling heap of libel and slander. I hardly even know which part is the worst—I'm inclined to say it's the accusations of egotism, but then there's the bit about your insatiable sexual needs, not to mention the insinuations against your mother.'
'The bit about your sexual needs wasn't that far off,' smirked Helena, and Harry smiled in spite of himself. 'Who's that fit bird you're going to owl after I've gone?'
'Wouldn't you like to know!' he replied suggestively before his misery returned in full force. 'Ugh, and the Chocolate Frogs! I thought everyone knew it wasn't on purpose.'
'Of course everyone knew!' snapped Hermione. 'She just omitted that detail because the article was juicier that way.' She set her jaw and added, 'I should never have let her out of that jar.'
'What on earth should I do about this? Do I have any recourse?'
Hermione shook her head glumly. 'Have you ever had recourse when she's lied about you?'
'There was the thestral diatribe last year,' offered Darren. 'I'd say you won that round.'
'A lot of people attended the party, Harry,' said Ryan. 'Surely they'll spread the truth. And nobody thinks you're arrogant like that.'
'Andrew Gilstrap does,' grumbled Harry. 'He's going to have a field day with this.'
'You've nearly a week to prepare,' said Darren. 'We can help.'
'I'm certain you will. But how do I even set the record straight? I'll be eaten alive if people believe all this!'
'Talk with the Cannons publicity team tomorrow,' suggested Ryan. 'I'm certain they can pressure the Prophet to print a retraction.
'I know all about the Prophet's retractions,' scowled Hermione. 'They print them in charmed type that gets a little blurry when you try to read it.'
Harry was rereading the article. 'I can't even believe this. She accuses me of spending hours greeting guests for the sole purpose of choosing a sexual partner.'
'That's my favourite part!' said Romilda. 'She called me sultry!'
'You most certainly are,' growled Darren, pulling her towards him again.
'Aguamenti!' cried Hermione, shooting a spray of water at the bed. 'If you're going to stay here, you need to behave.'
Darren burst out laughing. 'Ryan, she's brilliant. Can you hit us with a Drying Charm?'
Harry was shaking his head as he continued to read. 'She literally calls the party an orgy! I was just trying to bring people together.'
'And you succeeded,' said Darren admiringly. 'That was the best party I've ever attended. You packed a bunch of oversexed young magicals into a pure-blood pleasure dome. This party will go down in history, make no mistake.'
'And Professor McGonagall!' continued Harry. 'Do you think she'll get into trouble?'
'I doubt it,' said Hermione. 'The Hogwarts Board of Governors is friendly now that Augusta Longbottom's in charge.'
'Snitchbottom?' asked Darren, only to be ignored.
'Oh, and did you notice the reference to Beauxbatons and schools in North America?' said Hermione. 'Clearly there are wards on the Prophet building as well. I can't believe how insidious this is!'
'You and Bill Weasley will get to the bottom of it,' said Ryan reassuringly.
Harry was still reading, and he shook his head in disgust. 'The only positive thing I can say about the "three fathers" paragraph is that she doesn't dispute my actual parentage, though I should perform Unforgivables on her for what she implied about my mother. And did she really need to mention Snape?'
'She always needs to mention Snape,' grumbled Hermione.
'And even worse, in the next paragraph she calls me a fop! I wasn't even wearing my floral waistcoat!'
'No, you wore actual flowers,' said Darren. 'Fantastic choice ... you really have huge bollocks for someone your size.'
'Someone my size?!' cried Harry indignantly. 'There's no correlation with height!'
Everyone looked at Helena, who started laughing. 'I have no complaints at all.'
'I want to see this floral waistcoat,' declared Romilda. 'Is it in the wardrobe?' Without waiting for an answer she got out of bed to investigate.
'And then all this about my arrogance! Am I really that bad?'
'No,' said Hermione. 'I mean, you're a good deal more confident than you used to be, and I think joining the Cannons has brought out your natural swagger, but you're certainly not the egomaniac she's depicting.'
'That's a relief,' replied Harry. 'Promise to hex me if I ever get anywhere near that bad.'
'Trust me, I will.'
Romilda emerged from the wardrobe holding the floral waistcoat. 'Oh Harry, I love it! Promise me you'll be photographed in it soon—I'll add it to my wall.'
'That is nice,' said Helena, examining the waistcoat. 'You really have exquisite taste.'
Harry looked at her pleadingly. 'Would you be seen with me in it?'
'Oh, Harry ... we should talk after this.'
Harry's shoulders slumped. 'All right.'
'But if you break up with him, everyone will think it's true,' said Romilda. 'That you think he's insufferable.'
Harry looked up again hopefully, but Helena said, 'People will believe what they like, regardless of what I do. But I'll spread the word privately that you're not egotistical, and I'm certain others will do the same. I only wish there were a way for you to get your version out without going through the Prophet.'
'We can't exactly blackmail Rita Skeeter into interviewing you for the Quibbler again,' said Hermione.
'Weasley's Wizard Wireless!' exclaimed Harry. 'Lee and George are interviewing me on their inaugural broadcast on Tuesday. There's probably an advertisement in today's paper.'
'Are you certain that's a good idea?' asked Ryan. 'There's no broadcast delay.'
'I know, I'm going to suggest to Lee that he develop one for future broadcasts. But this is a perfect opportunity to demonstrate I'm not some raging twat.'
'You may be right,' said Hermione. 'I suspect Lee and George are already well-liked because of the shop, so if they're heard conversing with you and maybe taking the mickey, people will realise you're nothing like the person Rita Skeeter described.'
'They'll certainly have a lot of listeners,' said Darren. 'Everyone's going to want to hear your response.'
Harry was rereading the end of the article and angrily blurted, 'That cow! Did you see this at the end, where she wishes me a happy birthday?'
'What about it?' asked Hermione, looking at her newspaper.
'"The Prophet nevertheless wishes Harry an exceedingly happy birthday, just shy of his twentieth,"' he quoted, with emphasis on the words exceedingly and shy. 'She did that on purpose—I kept describing Sally-Ann as exceedingly shy, even though she wasn't at all. Merlin, I hate her!'
'She just gets worse and worse,' agreed Hermione.
Darren nodded. 'Why do you suppose today's edition came out so late? I was expecting pages and pages of incriminating evidence, but this was just one article and a sidebar.'
'I have two theories,' said Hermione, prompting sniggers from both Harry and Ryan. 'One is that she spent a lot of time looking for photographs or dirt about Helena. But obviously she came up empty, other than that bit about your Charms N.E.W.T.—and I'm envious, by the way. And then I suppose they must have researched how much gold the Blacks had.'
'That must have taken a while,' said Harry, 'considering their data is probably from around the time they bought the lordship. What's your second theory?'
'That she delayed it as long as possible just to make us twist in the wind, since she knew I'd found her out.'
'That is just like her,' grumbled Harry. 'You don't think I have grounds for a legal complaint, do you? She invaded my home after all.'
'I doubt it,' said Hermione. 'You opened your house up to nearly two hundred people, and you didn't have a strict guest list. I suspect the only one with grounds for complaint is Sally-Ann Perks. But something tells me she won't pursue it.'
'Yes, I'm told she's rather shy.'
Darren turned towards Romilda and said, 'Things seem to be wrapping up. Can we go back to our room now?'
'All right,' she said. 'But then let's go to Diagon Alley—I want to see you try on floral waistcoats.'
As she dragged him away, Darren saluted Harry and said, 'Brilliant party, Snitchbottom. Don't worry about Rita Skeeter—we're all behind you.'
'Cheers, I appreciate it.'
Hermione and Ryan departed as well, leaving only Harry and Helena.
'How are you doing?' he asked. 'I know this affects you the most.'
She sat down on the edge of the bed. 'I think I'm still in shock. I'm relieved they didn't find a photograph, and thank heaven they left Vanessa out of it. Although it might have been good for her in the long run ... I think she'll be much happier if her family disowns her. They already disinherited her elder brother for being a blood traitor.'
'I suppose last night was a symbolic act of rebellion for her,' said Harry soberly.
'Yes, I knew she'd jump on the opportunity partly because of that. But she was already sexually adventurous, as you probably gathered.'
Harry lay down on the bed and sighed. 'Oh, Helena ... does this really need to be the end? Is it that awful, having your name linked with mine?'
She lay down and turned to face him. 'No, of course not. And I'm terribly fond of you. But we're so young, and you've only just escaped the Ministry and Albus Dumbledore and everyone else who tried to contain you. I don't want to be yet another trap.'
He put an elbow on the bed and lifted himself up partway. 'But what if I want to be trapped? I can't imagine anyone I'd rather be trapped with, even Ginny. You're so amazing, Helena ... I could kick myself for saying this would only be a fling.'
'It wouldn't have made a difference either way. You need to grow up—we both do.'
'Why can't we grow up together? I'm serious ... I want to be with you.'
She smiled wistfully. 'You're a day late.'
'What do you mean?'
'You were supposed to propose on your nineteenth birthday.'
'That's true. But you kept hiding from me.'
'Harry, if we were twenty-one and you'd already been playing for the Cannons several years, and you'd learnt who you are a bit better—and I'd learnt more about myself—then I'd like nothing more than to be seen with you in your floral waistcoat, or whatever you've made fashionable by then. But if we date now, we'll both be stunted in one way or another, and I won't let that happen.'
'May I hold you to that?' he asked.
'What, stunting ourselves?'
'No, when we're twenty-one. If we're both still single on my twenty-first birthday, you'll go out with me. We can even go somewhere Muggle the first night, to ease you into it.'
'All right,' she said. 'But I'm going to extract a promise from you in return.'
'What's that?'
'No proposing to anyone between now and then. Feel free to move in with her and anything else you like, but I don't want you locking yourself into a marriage bond until you're good and ready. I'm afraid you're a little too prone to falling in love, and I don't want anyone taking advantage of you.'
He sighed. 'You mean now that everyone thinks I'm richer than the Queen?'
'Or a league Seeker, or the Boy Who Lived, or whatever new epithets you acquire by then.'
'I notice you left out "Lord Black."'
'Yes, I think that one's truly dead and buried.'
'Like Sirius, you mean,' said Harry glumly. 'And my other dead fathers.'
'Oh, Harry. You've known so much loss ... I can scarcely imagine it.'
'I can't imagine the alternative,' he said. 'I'm still astonished that Ron and Hermione survived the war. That feels almost like a bigger miracle than my own survival.'
'I'm glad you have them, Harry. And your teammates as well. Although I could do without Romilda.'
'I didn't even invite her to the party! She tried to give me a Love Potion back in school.'
'Are you serious? That's awful!'
'It barely registered at the time—I had so much else going on. But yeah, I suppose it was.'
'I hope you'll be careful, Harry. Is there a way you can protect yourself? Perhaps the goblins have something portable, like a ring.'
'When I have such an attractive ring already?'
'Oh right, I've never seen it in real life. May I?'
He revealed it to her. 'Oh my god,' she choked. 'That is truly ghastly. Can you talk to the snake at least?'
'No, I lost the ability to speak Parseltongue when Voldemort died.'
'That's a shame. But fortunately you found other uses for your tongue. In fact, we should probably be grateful Rita Skeeter didn't overhear your newest nickname.'
'Good point. And here I was relieved she didn't hear anyone call me Snitchbottom, considering the backstory she'd undoubtedly provide. But if she'd heard the other one ...'
'At least you'd finally be famous for the right reason,' said Helena, and they both smiled.
They eventually went out for lunch at a Muggle restaurant and walked through a park for several hours, holding hands and stopping for the occasional kiss. She returned home to check on her family and then came back at teatime dressed for dinner.
'How are things at your parents' house?' he asked.
'We've received more than a few Howlers, but my mother set the wards to cause them to fall from the owls' grip on arrival, meaning they could be destroyed.'
'I need that ward,' declared Harry. 'I should have the goblins add it when they clear the house tomorrow.'
'I'm glad you didn't have it a fortnight ago. That's become a cherished memory.'
'I'll cherish all my memories with you, Helena,' he said tenderly.
'As will I.' She looked him over for a long moment—he was still wearing the Muggle clothes he'd grabbed that morning when they were waiting for the Prophet. 'I want to see you in your robes with the floral waistcoat,' she declared.
'But you won't go out with me.'
'Are you a Black or not?' she demanded. 'Surely they dressed for dinner.'
'Should we eat in the dining room then? I think all the lodgers have finally gone.'
'That sounds lovely. Are there any Chocolate Frogs left?'
He stuck out his tongue at her before taking her hand and leading her up to his bedroom. 'You have to tell me if the waistcoat is too much,' he said from the wardrobe.
'You can always trust me to share my unvarnished opinion.'
He emerged in the dove grey robes and floral waistcoat, along with a very smart pair of shoes. They were more wizarding than Muggle, with a rather pointed toe.
'Oh, Harry,' she exhaled. 'Absolutely impeccable. But it needs one final touch.' She pulled a rosebud from the vase Kreacher had sent up with the Prophet and slid it into his buttonhole. 'Now it's perfect. Those robes are even better than the white ones.'
'They were ivory,' insisted Harry.
'Of course they were,' she laughed. 'Do you remember that first morning, when I predicted what a splendid roué you'd be?'
'A shameless seducer? Yes, I rather liked that.'
'Now you're dressed perfectly for it, though you've been an appallingly poor roué in every other respect. Really, you practically proposed to me after a fortnight—completely unacceptable. You'll have to try much harder if you want to keep your promise and stay unmarried for two more years.'
'If it means I get you in the end, then definitely.'
'No, try to forget about me between now and then. Go live your life and keep developing your swagger, as Hermione called it. Get yourself photographed with another witch as soon as possible, if only to take the heat off me. And go seduce a few Muggles as well, to reassure yourself that celebrity isn't your only draw.' With a tilt of her head, she added, 'And I beg you, fall in love a few more times. Just don't propose to anyone.'
'And what will you do these next two years?' he asked.
'A good deal of the same, I suspect—including the part about witches. As you've seen, I'm not entirely averse to them. And I'd like to complete my Mastery, which will require original research. I'll root for the Cannons, of course, and perhaps I'll even attend a match if I can ever get tickets.' He started to speak and she said, 'No, I'll get them on my own. I won't appear in your herd, and I don't trust myself to only be your friend.'
'Are you sure I can't tempt you with that cursed tiara? It's just sitting there in the vault, though suppose I should bring it to the Ministry one of these days.'
'No, but I'm certain Romilda would take it off your hands, cursed or not.'
'I reckon there are a lot of Romildas in my future.'
She nodded. 'But minus the Love Potion, I hope.'
'Yes, I'll go to Gringotts this week.'
They had dinner in the dining room—it was comprised entirely of leftovers from the party, which had required a heated negotiation with Kreacher. In the end, Kreacher agreed to serve leftovers and allow Master to cook his own breakfast the next morning in exchange for two hours' confinement in the bookcase Harry had previously identified.
'Do you realise that was the first time I ever set eyes on Kreacher?' said Helena. 'I've only had circumstantial evidence for his existence until now.'
'Are you at least satisfied I'm not mistreating him?'
'Yes—this hereby completes your audit. Our investigations department is most thorough.'
'I hope you'll notify Hermione. She's had some concerns.'
'I know—that's what triggered the audit in the first place.' Helena smiled and added, 'I'm glad I got to meet her. She and I spoke for a while last night, you know.'
'Yes, she mentioned it but didn't provide details.'
'That's just as well, since we mainly talked about you. In your best interest, of course.'
'That's what interfering gossips always claim. Did you reach any conclusions?'
'Only that you're the dearest boy who ever lived,' she said affectionately. 'But I also need to apologise—I made reference to the Howler incident, and of course the entire story came out. You were so sweet to keep her in the dark like that, but naturally I had to wreck it.'
'Oh dear, was she upset?'
'Only slightly mortified, but mostly amused.'
'That's a relief. And it's just as well she found out—it's really too good a story to keep secret.'
'It is. Perhaps you and I should exchange Howlers every now and then, for old times' sake.'
'I'd like that.'
After dinner he led Helena to his bedroom one last time, and for a while they only spoke. Helena shared many of the details of her life she'd kept private, and Harry was grateful to hear them. He told her about Sirius and Remus, and he even showed her the Marauder's Map, which wasn't very exciting to look at during the summer, but it felt like a nice way to introduce her to his father—all three of them.
He told her about the night Cedric died, and how awful he still felt about it. She assured him it wasn't his fault, and even though he'd heard the words before, he appreciated hearing them from her. He told her about Snape, and about the awful discovery that he'd loved Harry's mother and had devoted his life to her memory. He recounted Snape's dying wish to look once more into Lily's eyes, and when Helena cried, Harry felt his own tears as well.
They eventually stopped talking and communed physically, falling asleep afterwards in each other's arms. When he awoke she was already dressed, and he didn't have time to prepare the elaborate breakfast he'd planned. Instead he made a simple English breakfast and she commended his cooking, with a promise to inform Rita Skeeter via Howler.
He walked her upstairs to the formal fireplace, even though the kitchen had a fireplace as well, and they tearfully said goodbye. After a final kiss, she took a pinch of Floo powder and said, 'Küffner Hof,' before disappearing into the flames.
Bereft, he walked to the entrance hall and spent a while watching Padfoot chase a butterfly. He never caught the butterfly, to Harry's relief, but instead danced playfully around it, jumping up on his hind legs and waving his front paws about. The butterfly eventually flew beyond the edge of the frame, out of sight, and the disappointed Padfoot curled onto the ground.
Harry tried to cheer him up by tossing him a treat, which landed on the ground in front of his snout. At first he seemed uninterested, but then his nostrils flared and he downed it with a mighty chomp. He rose and looked out at Harry in the proper begging posture the trainer had taught him, and Harry threw him another, and then another after that. He caught them eagerly, and by the time Harry was ready to leave for practice, Padfoot seemed content once more.