Episode 11. Part 1

Episode 11. Part 1

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- Dudley, where's my hunted godson? - Sirius asked cheerfully, bursting into Potter Manor on, well, important business.

It had been two weeks since the fourth year and a week since the grand wedding, the aftermath of which the housekeepers were still quietly cleaning up, and the journos were quietly littering. Harold, still home from school, had opened the house to the Blacks, the Flamels, the Delacurs, and a few others. So a lot of people could have broken into the house. At that moment, however, only Dudley was bored in the manor.

- He's on his honeymoon, Sirius. I have no idea where he and Fleur go. Somewhere in a crowded resort, I think," Dursle replied, chatting phlegmatically with the poison-green contents of the glass in his hand and his leg hanging off the armrest of his chair.

He was bored. The wedding festivities had come to an end. The guests had departed, and friends and Riona had rushed off to visit their parents, though they had been invited to stay. Crouch Sr. went home, too. The Delacours were working. The Flamel's had a week-long international convention of masters of the magical sciences. So it was only little Gabrielle who visited Dursle now and then. She kept asking if her big sister was back. So he was bored, because the only entertainment was letters from fans and cousin's fans, sent to the names of Lord and Lady Potter, in which some sincerely congratulated Harold and Fleur, and some were furious and threatening. Not many were satisfied with the fact that the hero chose a Frenchwoman rather than a Briton as his chosen maid of honor. They wrote a lot of things. That Fleur had bewitched the hero, that Potter had betrayed his country. Both were cursed. But among all this crap, there were some interesting letters, because some of the groupies offered themselves to the hero. Literally. Describing themselves, sending their collages, promising to be passionate lovers or wives... It amused Dursle to read such things. But that was all.

- Oh, so he took my advice and is having fun? - Sirius enthused, taking a seat in his chair. Dudley looked at him and realized that he was genuinely happy for his godson, genuinely proud of him in a way that would make him wag his tail if he were a dog.

- Happy, I doubt it.

- Why should he be? - Lord Black was indignant, but grinned lewdly.

- No," Dudley shook his head. "Harold and Fleur argued again as soon as they'd escorted the guests out. They argued about not touching each other until Harry was at least seventeen. - Where his cousin had gotten such strict notions of morality and honor, especially given the conditions in which they'd grown up, Dudley wasn't clear. But he was proud of Harold all the same. - Knowing his brother's stubbornness, he was sure: they tried not to be alone so as not to provoke each other unnecessarily. So they're where the noise is. And Harry and I don't like noisy crowded places. So he's probably not having any fun.

- Oh, well, my godson's letting me down..." Sirius sighed feignedly sadly, though he was secretly proud, too, despite the incomprehension.

- So, what did you want? - Dudley asked, sitting up straight. Black instantly shed all mirth and handed his godson's cousin two newspapers with Harold's picture on the front pages. Dursle ran a quick glance over the lines of the articles and frowned: it seems Dumbledore has begun his campaign to overthrow an undesirable hero. The hero's wedding to a French Vail had played well into his hands. But it was gratifying that the ministry, at the same time, was protecting the Boy Who Survived. As long as the Daily Prophet had more influence on the common people - everything was fine, but because of that same wedding, many people, especially women, doubted Potter, so they read other papers... Dudley understood: it was necessary to give a rebuttal to the articles written under Dumbledore's dictation, it was necessary to contact Fudge. To inform Harry... But he didn't want to spoil his brother's honeymoon. He felt almost as happy with the veil as Dudley remembered him. So it was worth acting on his own. After all, he couldn't hide behind his cousin's back forever, could he? Dursle could stand up for his family, too!

***

- Yes, I understand, Dudley," Minister Fudge smiled tautly at the hero's cousin, though there was a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. - Thanks to the information you provided, we can put pressure on Dumbledore. - Yes he had a few complaints in store from parents of Hogwarts students about the Mountain Troll who had suddenly appeared in the school four years ago. That one had been lying there for a long time where he died, because it was not easy to carry a giant creature, completely immune to magic, by hand, and therefore it was seen by a lot of people. It was a miracle that no one died then. But there was nothing Fudge could do: Albus calmed him down as usual. Now Dursle provided a very convincing argument, citing various credible sources, such as legislation that without the Director's permission no creature could penetrate the castle's defenses without using brute magical force. The implication was that either Albus gave the troll such permission, or he was so conniving in his duties that anyone could get through the defenses. It was great leverage against a mage who not only wished to be his, Fudge's, Minister of Magic, but who also made the public announcement that He-Who-Has-Named-Name had been resurrected. - Of course, I should like Lord Potter to be personally involved in our adventure, but I understand your reluctance to bother him for the next month," sighed Cornelius, genuinely saddened by the impossibility of dealing with a national hero, which would have elevated him in the public eye, especially after he had publicly rebutted Dumbledore's statement. - Though I must say, I don't understand why the Frenchwoman, why the Veil, either," he recalled the circumstances.

- Minister Fudge, when you married, did you ever consider the origins of your betrothed? - Dudley snorted irritably: the attacks on his brother's betrothed over the past week of active running around trying to justify Harry to the public had gotten to him, too. - Harold and I can hardly be called patriots, so we won't look at the nationality of girls when choosing mates. She didn't charm Harry, that much I know. The entire Hogwarts heard them arguing, and the bewitched dare not shout at the Veils, thinking them unearthly angels.

- The minister looked at him doubtfully, but the argument reluctantly admitted: it was a well-known fact, and the showdown between Potter and the Charmbaton champion had been heard, including by himself.

- But, if you're worried about origins: her father comes from an ancient pure-blooded French wizarding family, and her mother is a half-breed. But her mother's father is also a generic pureblood wizard, Master Rune, and her mother Appolyn Delacourt is a pureblood Vaila. In short, Fleur's blood status fits the Potter bloodline quite well.

- Is that so? - Fudge marveled. - That explains a lot. But she's a Vale... A half-minded creature that should be destroyed?

- Dudley squinted at him dangerously. The Ministry was in chaos, and with all the stirring going on, they were trying to push through legislation that served their own personal agendas. Recent discussions have included laws against wales, centaurs, and werewolves, lumped together as semi-intelligent and dangerous creatures.

The minister, however, was surprised. "What?" the national hero's cousin shrugged.

- "Your assistant, Miss Umbridge, is working on a project to curtail the rights of the Weyles as well. She considers them subhuman, inferior, along with the Muggles. Are you of the same opinion? - He asked provocatively. Cornelius immediately waved his hands in an amused sort of way. "Merlin, no!" Dudley caught the gleam of doubt in his eyes. Yes, Umbridge was persuasive, but Fudge was a cowardly man. He could cite a few "horrible massacres" of muggles and wizards from the right angle, and he was afraid of them. And he didn't care that in most cases of such attacks, the unfortunate victims themselves provoked the Weyles.

Dudley sighed: how he missed his cousin. Dudley had more experience in meetings with high-ranking officials and a knack for persuasion. Of course, he had no powers of foresight, but he was nevertheless adept at unraveling the tangled tangle of other people's intrigues in a way that benefited him without Dursle's help. He would be quick to remind the minister that curtailing the rights of the magical races could in itself provoke war. Dudley himself had to leave the matter alone.

- Good," he sighed feigned relief. - Harold has a rather short temper and vindictive nature..." "He succeeded! It wasn't a threat or a warning, just a fact. And the minister heard that fact. So it was possible to feed him a few more conclusions, backed up by evidence, in order to sling mud at Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore without a shadow of a lie.

Yes, Dursle knew how to protect his family, too...

***

- Professor Snape?! - Harold exclaimed shocked as he spotted the acquaintance, dressed head to toe in black: pants, an old-fashioned camisole with sleeves and collar under his throat. Severus was hiding in the shadow of a beach umbrella from the sun, either because of the heat or because of his attire. It was the beach, after all. And he covered his eyes grudgingly, hoping to the last that the couple that had been looming before his eyes for the past three days wouldn't notice him. But that didn't stop him from acting surprised to see them. Pardon me, Potters?! - Snape corrected himself as he saw the frown on the Weyrwoman's face.

- What are you doing in Nassau? - Harold and the Professor said at the same time.

- Honeymoon," they both replied. Potter had a lingering sense of Deja vu. It seemed that once he, too, had unexpectedly met someone, and that someone also spoke to him in the same voice.

- The Bahamas is our Queen's subject," Harry shrugged, as if in answer to an unspoken question as to why Nassau. - The French Ministry of Magic's booklet said something about the place's rich magical history. Sort of like Nassau was a cluster of pirates, many of whom were magical refugees or something, I can't remember. We didn't find a rich history, but it's not a bad resort. I don't like it, and that's what counts," the hero smiled, and got a slap for it. Severus really caught the moment when now Lady Potter managed to suppress a gentle smile caused by the statement. Their relationship was strange after all.

Fleur, however, looked at her watch and hurried off somewhere. After apologizing to Snape, she slid her lips across her husband's cheek and quickly disappeared. Potter seized the moment and landed beside the professor.

- Voldemort let you go?

- Did you give him his mind back? - Harry shrugged his shoulders.

Severus nodded his thoughts, involuntarily looking at the son of the school enemy and the beloved woman. The boy was dressed only in bermudes of an unimaginable color, cutting Snape's gaze. That's what a lot of young people on this beach were wearing, though. Severus genuinely thought it was indecent, especially since most were too lazy to wear even a T-shirt. Potter was one of them, clearly proud of his pumped up, tanned figure, and therefore flashing his abs brightly in front of the audience. It wasn't the first day Snape had noticed the looks the young girls were giving the national hero of Britain. No doubt Potter flaunted virtually naked to flatter his ego, and if they were back home in Britain, Severus would have had the boy dressed. But here... It was worth admitting: he had his right. But to dress in Muggle fashion was tawdry for a Wizarding Lord. But that wasn't what this was about. "He was like that when I was a teenager, when I joined the Ravens.

Then he went mad, changed..." "I'm afraid I wished for him to... change. My magic reacted to it... in its own way," Harold replied cautiously, wondering why the Professor was dressed. It was over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit (forty Celsius, as the locals would say) outside. And sitting in black rags in this heat...

- You're a terrible man, Potter," Severus sighed, remembering that all he had to do was wish for something and magic would easily grant his wishes. Needless to say, since he himself had allowed himself to succumb to Potter's brain-dropping speeches for most of the past school year, "I must say I'm grateful to you, Potter. You were right: I shouldn't have neglected my vacation.

- It is, of course, good of your masters to let you get away. Still, hiding from the sun in black clothes is no vacation. - Potter, slow down. I've never been on vacation..."

"Never at all," Harold finished for the professor with a snicker. - This isn't the way to do it! Fleur's off to a spa treatment, so I've got about three hours of free time. I was going to check out the local masseuses, but I'll take my time with you. - Potter gibbered, insistently dragging Severus in an incomprehensible direction and not allowing a word in. And the worst part: Snape did not understand why, but allowed himself to behave...

***

- Professor, that girl over there, the one in the blue frilly bathing suit, has been staring at you for half an hour now," Harold remarked, sipping his cocktail and adjusting his sunglasses at the same time. They were lying on a recliner and sunbathing by the pool. Actually, Harold didn't care about his surroundings, for his wife had purchased her eleventh swimsuit during their stay at the resort in Nassau, and each time it was more revealing. Fleur, making no secret of it, provoked her husband, at a particular moment doing yoga on the other side of the pool in the company of other young girls. Potter honestly tried to look away from his chosen one, but it wasn't working yet.

However, the sensation that he and the professor (who had joined them on their vacation) were being watched made him look away once. Severus himself noticed nothing, for the first time in his life, feeling what he felt: bliss. After the epic encounter, Potter had literally dragged him to all sorts of what he thought were dawdling places designed to wring money out of vacationers. Massages, spas, phyto baths, beauty salons, specialty boutiques, as well as all sorts of entertainment, like water skis, water parks, and the like. Snape himself did not know when he got a stylish Muggle haircut and washed his hair, when his complexion acquired a healthy shade, when he himself began to look after himself and at what point he first went to the beach as Potter, in only his bermudas. He tried not to think about when he had had time to tan, when his muscles, long used to perpetual tension, had relaxed, and when he had begun to see the hated boy as a friend. Especially since the new friend was completely restless, because it wasn't enough to giggle at him, Severus, in the massage parlor when he blushed ugly and embarrassed when he felt the touch of unexpectedly strong, but still female hands on his back. And now, there was a new onslaught.

- Are you kidding me, Potter? - He grumbled grudgingly, glancing back at the girl in question. She immediately very frankly and seductively ran her hand over her flat stomach, as if casually, but clearly noticed his gaze.

- Not at all. You're a very attractive man now, Professor," Harold remarked nonchalantly. Over the past few days, making Snape feel alive again had become his idea of a fix. Severus was a hard nut to crack, but Harold's masseuse, whom he had yielded to the professor, was a wizard. Not her, exactly, but her hands... My mother is long dead, but you are alive and still young. I think my mother would be upset if she knew that her childhood friend had neglected herself because of her. - Snape looked sharply at the boy with undisguised irritation: He knew how to hit a sore spot, the little bugger. But he kept his gaze on Fleur. - I'm going to throw my wife into the pool while I can still control myself and watch her antics in silence," he got up from the bench and threw an involuntary companion, not looking at him: "I bet as soon as I leave - the girl will come to you. Have fun, Professor.

- She is a Muggle.

- No one is forcing you to marry her. After all, it's not the Middle Ages. And a holiday romance will do you and her good..."

And Potter walked away, and the girl actually sat down with him. Severus just couldn't find an excuse to run away. He had to talk... He did not notice how he got to talking, quite calmly, to his own surprise, taking the frank and unambiguous suggestions of a very attractive person. However, soon, the girl, wiggling her hips enticingly, left, leaving Severus to suffer from doubts, and yet... After watching the Potters happily rushing along the sandy beach on the ocean, as they rolled on the sand, cuddling, as he twisted her in his arms and how she laughed so loudly, how excitedly they teased each other, Severus, envious, decided. And two days later they were joined by the very same girl with whom Snape had begun a quite serious holiday romance, in which he again felt like a strangely feeling schoolboy... He had no idea that his girlfriend was an American witch who immediately recognized the Boy Who Survived, the hero of several issues of her favorite magical magazine. Severus didn't know that the witch had become friends with the Potters long before he arrived at the resort. He didn't know that he had caught her attention while still wrapped in black rags with badly greasy hair. Snape didn't know that Harold had warned his girlfriend that he was a master potter and the amortization wouldn't work on him. He also did not know that she was a pure-blooded witch from a family of British refugees who had once migrated to the New World. But he was on his way to realizing that he was forever trapped in her violet eyes... And Potter grinned snidely as he watched the tumultuous affair, and wondered why the professor liked girls with unusual eye colors...

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