Chapter 25

Harry gripped the toned teen asscheeks of the estranged Malfoy daughter and pulled the girl closer to his tongue, lapping, licking and slurping away at her soaking wet folds. She shrieked, one hand sliding into his hair, the other digging into her faded patchy blankets.

"Oh, fuck, oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oooh! Tom!" Helena came, her whole body arching up, her juicy pussy squirting all over his face.

Harry, acting as Tom, laughed as the girl's thighs vibrated, the sensations so strong she had to push him away from her quivering pussy.

He licked his lips, wiped his face with her cute white cotton panties, and then slid up the bed to hold her.

"Toooom," She moaned mindlessly.

"Something I did?" He said innocently.

"You're so mean to me." Helena shivered in his arms. While she recovered, Harry looked around her small bedroom. Lucius really hadn't bothered to throw much money at the girl and her adoptive parents, a pair of simple-minded farmers who reminded him of Molly Weasley. Never able to have children themselves, they'd been happy to take Lucius' money in exchange for raising the girl secretly, having her take their name.

Their farm was much like the Burrow, small and cramped but warm and cozy. They were the type of people who'd realized they could use magic to make their farming and cooking jobs easier, and never much bothered to investigate the wonders of magic beyond that. The rustic wooden farmhouse was full of animated knitting sticks, dishes washing themselves, knives sharpening each other. It was quite something.

Harry had met them, introduced himself as a school-friend, and then taken Helena out to town. Only instead of town, they'd gone with his broomstick up to her bedroom in the attic. Harry threw as many locking and silencing charms as he could remember, pushed Helena back on her bed, slid her panties down, spread those thighs and gone to town.

In truth, he was only here because he promised he would be. He needed to be back at Hogwarts, since Tonks and the rest of them would be expecting to see him. He was already taking too many chances by disappearing every night. And especially given the fact he'd been gone the prior weekend for their adventures in Schwerin.

Not that he regretted any of his out-of-school trips. The night before in the Parisian nightclub had been a lot of fun, and well worth it. Fleur's face when they'd cleaned up and said their goodbyes, the slow realization of the fact that Harry was taking Marie home for the night. She'd barely been able to open her mouth before he'd Apparated them away.

He took Marie again on his hotel bed, aroused all over again by her curious touch and obvious elation and his triumph over Fleur — had her ride him in her ruined schoolgirl outfit while he laid back and just enjoyed the view.

He'd meant to spend a few hours getting to know the beautiful brunette he'd bonded to himself, but fatigue had gotten to him. She'd woken him up with a buckwheat galette, a sort of savory crêpe, filled with eggs, cheese and ham. He didn't know how — his hotel suite's fridge wasn't even stocked.

And, in the suite's bathroom, a bathtub of hot water. He ate his breakfast while the water soothed away the night's aches, and Marie washed his hair from behind the tub. She didn't want to clean herself, she said, so she could smell like him for longer.

It was odd. They barely exchanged a word. But there was a light in her eyes, a joy, her happy voice singing softly as she washed his hair.

He tried to say something, when he'd finally dragged himself from the bath and the morning hours ticked on.

"Marie, I—"

"Have to go." She kissed him and buttoned his pants.

"About last—"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is I love you, more than anything, more than everything."

"But, we should talk, I should explain—"

Her hand closed his jaw gently. "Victor Hugo wrote a verse once. La vie est une fleur, l'amour en est le miel. Life is a flower, love is its honey. And I, my darling Harry, shall be at Beauxbatons waiting for you, morning and night, day after day, ready to love you, to trap you in sticky honey, so that you cannot escape, so that you never want to." She kissed him so ardently, he felt himself almost sinking.

And then she turned away, padding barefoot back to his hotel bed, completely naked. He watched her dimpled bottom disappear into the sheets.

And then he shook his head and Disapparated. There was something about French girls in love — her and Apolline both, they made him want to give up everything and stay in their embrace forever, ensconced in a house on the Riviera, or maybe a boat. Their sheer unashamed adoration.

He very much wanted to go back to explore Marie in her entirety — she intrigued him. But duty called.

Duty called him to part Helena's thighs. To give her flowers and a necklace, to ensure her he wasn't a cad who'd used her and disappeared, to remind her that he would return soon to take her fully and love her wholly. He'd fuck her now, if he wasn't so drained from the night before, and if he hadn't promised Narcissa that she'd be there when he deflowered her daughter. That woman had more weird kinks than he did.

Truth be told, Harry quite liked eating out the eager girl. It was a change of pace for him — his girls didn't seem to like it when he did it to them.

Narcissa had explained it to him once, when he'd asked her as she kissed his face clean of her own juices. "I love it, Master, it's just…I'd rather do something you enjoy Master. I feel so selfish. I really want to take care of you, not be one of those lazy witches. I love taking care of you."

"But I do enjoy it." He protested. "I want to make you happy, too. I'm the selfish one."

"I am happy." Narcissa giggled, like he was the silliest man on Earth. "There's never been a woman happier. I'm the luckiest, most deliriously in love, heart-pounding happy, the type of happy I thought never existed. And what makes me even happier is to do something for my wizard, like sliding his big thick cock down my throat and seeing his eyes roll back when I swallow his hot load."

She slid to her knees, drawing down his pants. "Now, let me suck your cock like the good wife I am and once I've licked all your cum off my face, you can see for yourself if I look happy, okay darling?"

He couldn't argue.

Soon, Cissy's daughter probably wouldn't let him eat her out either, unless he ordered it. She too would shiver at the thought of dropping to her knees and fellating him. But for now she just trembled in his arms as the aftershocks of her orgasm ran through her.

Harry smiled into her neck. She was so innocent, every drop of pleasure she received was like a volcano. He caressed her body, running his hand up to the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch jersey she wore, up to her stiff nipples and then down her toned stomach. Her thighs were absolutely soaked, the scent of her arousal thick in the air.

"That…" Harry declared. "Is perhaps the wettest pussy on record. I might need to call a meteorologist."

"Tom!" Helena buried her face in her arms. "You can't say something like that."

He coated his hand in her dew, amazed at the sheer volume of it. "Really, though, it's incredible."

"It's embarrassing." She moaned.

"It's not. It's a witch making herself ready for her wizard. Morgana's magic. Isn't it beautiful?"

"I'll need twice as much if I'm going to fit your thing inside of me." Helena said nervously, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. Her bare backside was rubbing against his cock, hard in his robes. "Are you going to do it now?"

"Not now." He kissed her neck gently.

She turned quickly, fire in her eyes. "B-but you haven't cum. I can make you cum. I'll be better than last time, I swear—"

"You'll be magical." He kissed her to shut her up. "But I need to run. I just wanted to see you today. I missed you so much. But believe me, my beautiful girl, the next time I come, it's going to be inside of you." His finger dropped to her wet folds and probed them lightly. "Think about where you want to be when I take you, sweetheart." His voice dropped deep, low. "Think about where you want to be when I become the first and last man to fuck you."

###

Harry was too late for breakfast, but just in time for double Potions. Usually, Ron would have grabbed him a piece of toast or two, but the ginger-haired boy wasn't even looking at him this morning, wrapped up in conversation with Seamus. Hermione was happy to partner with him though, even if she was clearly desperate to ask where he'd been the previous night.

It was odd to attend class when none of the subject matter was new, but it was still important to keep up appearances. Snape's threats and usual dickishness didn't cause the same irritation, not when he'd seen the man piss himself at the end of one of Tom's Cruciatus curses.

The greasy hook-nosed fuck was a reminder that it was he who'd told Voldemort the contents of the prophecy, the first half, at least. The Potions professor had set in motion the events that led to his parents death — that was a score that needed settling, one day.

And it was a reminder that neither Harry or Voldemort knew the contents of the full prophecy. Harry wondered whether it spoke of the mind-meld that had occurred, Voldemort's memories in his own head. That was something he'd very much prefer Voldemort not know.

Thoughts for another time. Harry instead amused himself with much more teenage pursuits — watching Daphne's slight gasp every time she tried to sit back on her stool, buttplug still embedded. Casting a spell to shorten the fabric of Hermione's skirt every time she got up to get some more ingredients. And smiling innocently every Tracey glared at him.

By the time the first break rolled around, Harry was amused to follow Hermione back to the Gryffindor Common Room, her skirt now so mini he could see the lacy black panties he'd bought her as he followed her up the stairs.

Inside the painting of The Fat Lady, Ginny was on the sofa while she did her homework. "Oh, Harry! There was a big parcel for you at breakfast. I left it on your bed since Ron was being a prat."

"Thanks, Gin." Her face blushed red.

On his bed, Harry tore open the long parcel. Narcissa and Apolline both had taken to sending him all manner of parcels. The other day, Cissy sent him a pair of her soaked panties and a short note. I'm wet every day for you. Love, your Cissy. Apolline had sent him a pair of handcuffs and a long letter begging him to come chain her up and use her.

Harry stopped still when he saw the contents of this parcel, though.

Flesh.

Hannah's bloody arm. Preserved like the moment it had been torn off, dried blood soaked through her skin.

And a black envelope.

Harry opened it with great care, ensuring it wasn't a Portkey or cursed. Inside, Harry knew the handwriting — it was the writing that his own was becoming, day by day. Tom's.

Harry,

Such fun to see you the other day. My heart warms to see you taking the first steps on the same journey I walked, long ago. I 'm glad, in truth, that our initial acrimony did not come to lethal exchanges, for it is in seeing you that I remember things I had feared long forgotten. The reason I began on this road in the first place.

The initial thrill of those first few conquests. The rush of power, the realization that I had chosen a path to power that would see me become more than a man, more than my contemporaries. I know you know the feeling.

I am thrilled that the wonders of a magic most rare, almost extinct, have been discovered again. Once, the discovery of the magics I used, our bonding magics, it was my greatest fear. Now I feel like our magical society has some light again! It is not populated exclusively by dullards and dimwits, hypocrites and hen-pecked wizards.

I remain curious as to how you discovered that which eluded me so long — I hope you can enlighten me, one day.

I attach your concubine 's arm to this letter, as a nontraditional olive branch.

Harry, we need not be enemies. I can understand some rage, given the tragedies I affected upon your parents, but would you not commit similar crimes, if your own path to power was threatened? Have you not taken lives already? Will you not take many more?

Still, I apologize. I wish I could sit across from you and discuss magic, discuss the ways your bond differs to mine, discuss the paths not taken.

Whatever you seek, I will fulfill it. If women are your vice, then women you shall have. And if the taste of power is to your liking, then I can offer you vintages you 've never dreamed of.

I do not wish to demonstrate the weaknesses in your bonding ritual. Now I know how to hurt you, and you know I can hurt you, wouldn 't you rather the women around you didn't fall, one after the other, in order for me to prove my point?

I remain thankful to you for inspiring this sweet nostalgia in me, and for reminding me of how far I 've come. I am hopeful of a reply.

Lord Voldemort.

Harry put the letter down with a sigh, falling back until his head hit the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling of the four-poster bed, thinking through Tom's words.

There was no thought of joining, of course. He knew Tom's mind — there would never be an equal, not even close. He'd only be alive as long as he was useful, and only rewarded as long as he was obsequious.

But Harry had no reason to doubt him on the weaknesses of the bond he'd chosen.

And yet…

And yet, if Tom's words were true, why didn't Harry know what Tom already did? He held the man's memories, after all, up until the graveyard. Admittedly, Tom's memories, a lifetime's worth, they weren't his entirely. Not every second of every day, no matter how hard he tried to tackle it with his Occlumency. But this key part, revolving around a bonding magic Harry had already taken from Tom's memories…he somehow hadn't learned about the one big weakness of it?

It was odd.

Was Tom lying?

Or was it something that Tom had learned of after their minds melded together?

That seemed unlikely. Perhaps there was something else to it, a truth and yet not a truth.

Maybe this weakness didn't even matter, if Harry could attain enough bondmates that losing one or ten wouldn't decrease his power significantly. An army always suffered losses, after all.

Harry sighed, tired all of a sudden. That was a callous way to think. He couldn't deny the bond went both ways — each loss would be a devastating blow against his heart.

Maybe the bond Tom had chosen, that of fear and unlimited power to be drawn from his bonded husks, maybe that had been the better choice. But, as he thought of his girls, of Cissy and Apolline, of Marie and Hannah, he couldn't regret it. They gave him more than love. They gave him hope.

###

Harry hung around the entrance to the Hufflepuff's common room at the end of the school day, waiting for Hannah. He wanted to see the look in her eye when he brought back her arm — and reattached it. That, and he didn't want to keep it in his bed, and it wasn't that great keeping it in his schoolbag either.

"She's not here." Ernie said quietly — he looked terrible. "She's in the library again, like usual."

"Like usual?"

Ernie shrugged. "Nowadays, she spends all her free time reading or in the library."

"Oh," He frowned. That didn't match the Hannah he knew. "How are you holding up, man?"

The boy gave him a wan smile. "Apparently someone desecrated my father's corpse at the undertakers. Some drunks, or a fight or something."

Harry blinked. "How awful."

"Just another day. When it rains, it pours, eh?" Ernie grimaced. "Take it easy, Harry."

"You too." Harry hid his wince until after Ernie had disappeared. It wasn't like he'd had a choice.

He wandered back up the Hogwarts stairwells and then swore. He had the Marauder's Map and not the brain to use it.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." He muttered. The map unfolded and showed a more interesting dot, close to him. Cho Chang.

He set off a jog, using the map to navigate Hogwarts' labyrinthine corridors, shoes clapping against the hard stone floors.

"Cho!"

Her smile was genuine, his heart skipping a beat. One never forgot your first crush.

The gorgeous girl pulled him into a broom cupboard. She smelled like fragrant incense and sandalwood.

For a moment, he just drank her in. The blue and white plaid schoolgirl skirt was being held up with black suspenders around her shoulders, running over her white blouse and her loose Ravenclaw tie.

Cho giggled. "You're looking at me like a man lost in the desert looks at water. Should I be worried?"

Harry shook his head. "You are beautiful."

"Well, thank you." She beamed. "See the headlines recently?"

"It's awful what they're saying about Cedric."

"I can't believe it." She smiled at him. "Do you think badly of me?"

"How could I? I asked you to make it happen. There are no morals in the quest to protect one's House."

"Or to make a House, together." Cho reached out to touch his hand. "I learned that from Mother — you should see the stuff she used to pull to further Father's business interests."

"I bet."

She stepped forward until she was pressed against him, her breath hot against his face, the cramped broom cupboard stiflingly warm. The big hazelnut eyes looked up at him, underneath her fringe of coffee-black locks. She took his hands slowly and placed them on her lower back, so she was trapped in his embrace. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you if I were your wife." Cho whispered softly, staring into his eyes. "Nothing too illegal, nothing too immoral, nothing too unethical, nothing too taboo. No limits. Where I come from, the way Mother raised me, a witch's only care is for her husband, for her family."

"That's…" Harry exhaled slowly. "Good to know."

And then the moment was broken and he let her go reluctantly. She smiled up at him, and Harry realized she was quite a dangerous vixen. Her mother's daughter, no doubt.

"So, what did you want?" Cho asked cheerfully.

"Ah…" Harry took a moment to refocus. "You've been getting those Cedric stories in the Prophet. You've got connections in their office?"

Cho shook her long hair. "Not me, Mother. She's been using Rita Skeeter for years to plant stories about her competing employees at the Ministry."

Harry's eyebrow rose. "She's a Ministry worker?"

"Pretty high up, too, compared to most. Department of International Magical Co-Operation."

He frowned. "That's foreign affairs, right?"

"Yeah, she manages the Sino-British relationship, since she has a load of contacts from back home and speaks all the languages. She's been working her way up for a long time. Nowadays, it's mostly just business requests for Houses on either side who are looking for partners." Cho paused. "Well, that and saying no to all the Chinese families trying to put their kids into Hogwarts for a term."

"Dumbledore says no?"

"Dumbledore says British residents only. I think he likes to maintain the exclusive reputation."

"She sounds impressive. Important."

Cho shrugged, but he could tell she was pleased. "That's one of the advantages of our…proposal. She could get you, and House Potter, into China. And all the riches China offers." She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Rare magic, wealth-generating opportunities…pretty girls."

"I can see that."

The Chinese girl giggled. "Us girls just love a compliment we have to fish for."

Harry grinned. "I'll have to do better. Your mother, what does she have on Skeeter that she'll write what your mother wants?"

Cho blinked. "Nothing. Nobody has anything on Skeeter." Except Hermione, Harry thought. "Blackmailing a journalist is a good way to get ruined. They'll just pass whatever they know on you to a colleague and ruin you that way."

"So—"

"So you just give her stories and if you make them juicy enough, she'll print them. And if she needs to trade one fake story for one real one, she'll do it."

"Real stories?" Harry's hand slid to her skirt-covered bottom.

"Not about you." Cho said hurriedly. "Mother has lots of juicy Ministry stories — the things we do to entice foreigners over here, the tax breaks we give them, the corruption, the expenses our top ministers claim."

His eyes went wide. "Remind me to be nice to your mum."

"Don't worry," She patted his chest. "She'll like you. She likes power and old money. But yeah, she is a viper. Smartest thing Father ever did was agree to her family's proposal to marry her."

"Not a love match, then?" Harry asked, holding her tight against him. She was warm, slim but curving in the right places, and she smelled so good. Fragrant incense.

Cho didn't seem to hear his question, her hands running along his chest. She pressed her lips to his, their kiss deepening, his hands exploring, until she broke off for a gasping breath. "Sorry, I wanted to know…just in case." Cho swooned back jokingly.

"Did I pass the test?"

"More than." She snapped off a quick thumbs-up, a tic from a younger Cho, her eyes glowing as she bounced on her toes. "Sort of sweet, tart even. Something you ate?"

Harry paused. It'd been a busy day, too busy for meals. The last thing he'd eaten was…Helena. "Maybe."

"I like it." Cho admitted. She took a long breath. "I need to get out of here before I do something we both regret."

"I…" Harry nuzzled the top of her head, swaying her slowly from side to side. "Yeah, okay."

Cho detached from him and then startled. "I forgot to say. There's another Cedric story in the paper tomorrow. Knockturn Alley rentboy seeks to sue for portion of Diggory estate."

Harry snorted. "How the fuck would that even work?"

She brushed her hair behind the ears that were turning red. "Cedric promised him riches for his…time, so it's like, reneging on a deal, former contracts pass onto the next of kin."

"Merlin, Cho."

"I'm doing this for us." She defended.

"I appreciate it. Make sure I'm not ever on your bad side."

Cho shoved him playfully. "Marry me and there will only ever be your side, and me behind you. That walking pair of tits Bones will never do the stuff that I would."

"Alright, alright, when the time is right. Hey, do me a favor?"

"Huh?"

"Add something to the Skeeter story. Potter decries the remarks as unsubstantiated lies about a good man, something like that."

"Okay."

"Just like that?"

Cho shrugged. "You're Lord Potter." She bit her lip. "I'm just the woman of the house, putting food on the table, barefoot and pregnant, making sure my husband is warm at night."

"You've got more fantasies than I do."

The Chinese girl pouted. "Blame Mother. Not enough friends as a child. Or now. Give me a kiss?"

"If you insist." He pulled her into a kiss that became a make-out session, one hand roaming up her back of her blouse to feel her soft skin, another sliding down the waistband of her skirt to feel her perky ass. Finally, she took a sharp gasp and pushed him away.

"My bad." Harry admitted, taking some heavy breaths himself. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just sorry we had to stop. But when we're engaged, when we're wed, remember what I said. There's nothing I wouldn't do if were your wife. Nothing. And I don't want to be in a loveless house-matched marriage like Mother and Father. I'll make our home a happy one."

"That's a…that's not an easy thing to promise."

Cho held his hands. "Other girls dream of being Minister, or playing for the Harpies. I always dreamed of being a wife, of loving with all that I am." Her eyes shined with earnestness. "I'd never go to bed without making sure you're happy, satisfied. I'll never deny you a warm bed, whether its with me or someone else. Mistresses, concubines, Muggle 'researchers'."

Harry couldn't help but shake his head and laugh. "Everyone seems to believe in the old ways, so why are they so old?"

Cho bit her lip. "Because everyone knows that House Potter will need to rebuild and fast, so when a Most Ancient and Noble House needs to do it, especially one as famed as House Potter, then the old ways are coming back in vogue, really fast."

"You think that's it?"

"Not entirely. The purebloods still practice the old ways, in the comfort of their own homes. It's just nobody feels comfortable to do it anymore out in the open, with the press and all. Too many Muggleborns, half-bloods. Everyone's hoping you change that and not in the way the Dark Lord tried to."

Harry thought that through. It made sense well enough. The traditionalist purebloods had very specific views on a woman's place.

"They're pinning their hopes on me because they know I'm going to need to—"

"Knock up half the girls in Hogwarts." Cho said wryly.

"I wouldn't put it like that."

"Put it like this, then. Every girl under that starry ceiling in the Great Hall knows that Lord Potter himself is going to bury his cock between the thighs of every of-age schoolgirl for a few years, because House Potter is a huge estate and currently has no service staff, no estate managers, no babysitters, no maids, no security, no Ministry lobbyists, no rent-gatherers, no fixers. Every other House runs as a family business, because who else can you trust?"

"I-"

Cho's giggles cut him off, as she felt his erection bulge between them, pressing into her skirt. "Is that what you like, Harry? Returning to the old ways? Imagine walking down Diagon Alley, your wife in one hand, your other hand placed firmly on the behind of your mistress. You sit down for ice-cream at Fortescues, because both your pregnant women have a craving. And while you lick your ice-cream, your concubine works you over under the table. Remember how they used to have adult-only bubble sections at every restaurant and cafe, so the kids don't see?"

Harry swiveled her around forcefully and spanked her ass as he opened the broom cupboard door. "You are trouble, Miss Chang." He said over her giggles.

They stumbled out of the cupboard and straight into the path of Daphne Greengrass, who flinched, her wand out. The Slytherin girl stared with wide eyes for a moment, before wide eyes turned to an angry glare, her face twisting into a snarl. "Watch it, will you?" She snapped.

"Sorry, Daphne."

"Fuck off, Potter." She stalked off.

Cho watched her leave, breathless from laughing. "W-why is she walking so funny? She got a stick up her ass?"

Harry bit his lip. "Slytherins, am I right?"

###

That evening, Harry received an urgent letter from Amelia Bones. He read it and with a sigh, he rolled out of bed and headed for the Chamber of Secrets. Ron's four poster bed had its curtains firmly shut again — his old friend was in a sulk, for some reason he couldn't figure out.

Harry didn't have time to think it over. It was time for a meeting he'd been putting off for a while.

The Chamber of Secrets had a working floo, one that took him to Grimmauld Place.

It wasn't his first visit. He'd dropped in on Sirius after his first meeting with Dumbledore, after the Headmaster had asked him to visit his godfather and given him the Secret to the Fidelius Charm. But the first time he'd come, Sirius had been almost black-out drunk, lonely and miserable. He doubted the older man even remembered it.

"Sirius?" Harry called out from the hallway, staring at the ugly interior decor. House Elf heads hung like trophies. Paintings of Black family dinosaurs in their finery, huge scarves and ugly dresses.

"Harry?" Sirius popped a shaggy head in from the kitchen, his stare incredulous. He wore two big oven mitts and an apron.

"Is this a bad time?"

"No-no, come in! I've got my banana loaf coming out, you can try it!"

"Have you been replaced with an imposter? Polyjuice?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Funny." Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm bored out of my skull here, Harry. I've taken up baking."

"What, drinking got boring?"

The older man winced, pushing his long hair out of his eyes. "I had a feeling I didn't imagine that. Sorry about that, I've been — oh, man, I shouldn't say but, I mean, I've just been thinking I've swapped one prison for another."

"It's fine." Harry held a hand out to stop him talking. "That's why I've come, really." He sniffed as the banana loaf was pulled out of the oven. "That does actually smell pretty good." Harry admitted.

"Right?! The trick is to use rotting bananas, they have the most taste. Also, use a fork to test the center. If it's gooey and filled with banana, it needs more time." Sirius pulled out a fork from the drawer and looked at him expectantly. "So what is it? Shouldn't you be in school?" His eyes went wide, smile splitting into a toothy grin. "Did you get expelled?"

"No, Sirius." Harry sighed, amused. "Tomorrow, you're going to be declared innocent by the Ministry. Front page of the Prophet—"

Sirius's fork dropped to the floor, clanging loudly.

"—which is big news, because there's this thing about Cedric and a rent boy which is really something." Harry continued.

"Are you serious?" Sirius asked, his face solemn.

"I am." Harry resisted the urge to make a pun on his godfather's name.

Sirius let out an extremely loud whoop and bound like a dog up to him, grabbing him in a bear-hug, so tight Harry felt his ribs squeeze. "Whoo! Yes! Finally! I knew this day would come. I knew it!" He smelled like vanilla essence.

The man skipped around the kitchen, banging closed the open cupboard doors and punching items with his kitchen-mitts, like a boxer-turned-chef. The vegetable oil bottle bounced three times across the kitchen counter. "Whoo!"

"I'm really—"

"Wait?" Sirius snapped around. "Did you do this?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I did. In exchange for supporting Amelia Bones' election."

His godfather grabbed him tight, shaking his shoulders. "Thank you, Harry." His eyes were glistening. "Y-your parents would be so proud of you."

Harry gave him a tight smile. He wished that were true. "I hope so."

Sirius hugged him, shook his hand, hugged him again, and then grabbed his hand, startled. "Is that…is that the Black family ring?"

"It is." Harry stopped himself from wincing.

"Is this—" The old Marauder waved his hand over Harry's. "—why I was declared dead last week in the papers?"

"I'm sorry, Sirius." Harry said honestly. "I should have told you ahead of time. But as you can see, I'm not a child anymore. That got taken from me the same way you had your adult life taken from you." He crossed his arms, feeling guilty. "I need two houses to take Voldemort down, because we're going to fight in politics, in wealth and by wand. I need the extra marriage for alliances and I need the name Black to get the conservatives on my side."

Sirius looked at him, his mouth slightly agape. Harry sympathized — he wasn't the boy that Sirius had met in the Whomping Willow. Harry felt inside his pocket for the Gringotts key and placed it on the kitchen counter. The kitchen felt very silent, all of a sudden, with just the whirring of the oven's extractor fan.

"This is a key to a vault I set up. It has more money than you'll ever be able to spend, on whores, drink, or whatever else." Harry smiled hesitantly. "On baking powder, even."

Sirius just stared at him, quiet, and then he came close, close enough that Harry could see himself reflected in the man's wet eyes. His godfather pulled him in close, an arm tight around his neck, so they were both left staring at the floor, like a football huddle. "I was never a part of that family, anyway. I'm proud of you, Harry. And I'm grateful. You're gonna use that Black family ring and you're gonna wring those bank accounts dry to kill that evil bastard."

"I am."

"And then you're gonna use the Black ring and the Potter ring to marry two sexy girls and make a wheelbarrow fulla'babies."

"I will."

Sirius smacked his back, so hard it hurt. "That's my boy!" He cheered.

The two separated — Harry looked away while Sirius wiped his eyes. "Alright," Sirius sniffled. "Fucking onions."

"In a banana loaf?"

"Shut up, kid. Alright, let's cut a slice of this thing. Want some tea? 'Course you do. Milk, no sugar, just like your Dad. I remember."

Harry couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest as the old man blabbered on, the years falling off him at the thought of freedom.

When they'd shared a surprisingly good slice of banana loaf and a hot cup of tea, Sirius pointed his fork at him. "Listen, Harry. I'll be there when it matters, okay? I didn't do right by you — haven't done right by you, not when I shudda. But if you ever need a body hidden or a wand at your back, I got you."

"Thanks, Sirius." Harry sat back and sipped on the dregs of his tea. A thought occurred to him. "Sirius, you've picked up a few girls in your time, right?"

The older man sat back in his chair and spread both arms as wide as his grin. "Hey, listen — some men say they put me in Azkaban to keep me away from their daughters."

"Yeah, okay. There's this girl, Susan Bones. She's not feeling me much. She saw me doing some politicking and," Harry scratched his ear. "Messing around with her friend. So she doesn't see me as the bright-eyed innocent that others do. And the bad-boy act isn't getting me far, either."

Sirius shoved another bite of banana loaf in his mouth. "Harry, my boy, you've come to the right place." A few crumbs came out of his mouth. He looked around furtively. "Don't tell your mother I said this, or Remus, but it's an inarguable fact. I can help you. Sirius Black is the master of getting pussy."

"Sirius! You're such a dog."

The old Marauder looked at him, unrepentant, his fangs bared in a loud laugh. "Woof woof!"