Chapter Text
Harry
The weather that afternoon, appropriately, seemed as if it was struggling to make a decision. Sudden downpours were followed by periods of radiant sunlight, before the sky eventually settled in the middle, a patchwork of turbulent grey clouds and spaces of clear blue.
I already hate this, Harry thought to himself as he strode into the Ministry grounds, making his way to the chambers of the Wizengamot.
He supposed that at least the weather gave him a valid excuse to wear the thick black cloak which billowed around him as he walked, a justification more practical than “it looks suitably impressive when you stomp around”, which was the actual reason that Pansy had insisted he wear the garment.
Harry already felt like half a fool, and he hadn’t even set foot inside the fucking building yet. Once again at Pansy’s insistence, he’d dressed the part of a noble Lord, and while he had no problem with the crisp charcoal suit he wore, the monogrammed, multi-striped, and emblem-pinned dress robes really felt like a bit much.
“This is how you’d display that you’re a recognized Lord of two Houses,” Pansy had explained, “so quit whining, you lummox.”
He felt the impulse to scratch at the back of his head, but that would only wind up messing up the slicked-back style that they’d worked his hair into, so Harry had to content himself by scowling in a way that hopefully seemed sufficiently lordly.
It had been a long time since he’d set foot in the Wizengamot, and Harry had never actually participated in a trial from his assigned seat. From this vantage point, he was surprised at how small the podium and floor looked below, and he bristled at the idea of how insignificant he must have seemed when he’d gone through that farce of a “disciplinary hearing”.
The session today was not likely to be a momentous one, from what Harry understood. While Cyrus Greengrass had distributed his proposed bill weeks ago, convention held that it would pass through three reading sessions before the Wizengamot would go to a vote, so few but its most contentious supporters or detractors would be interested in attending the ceremonial re-opening session.
Harry figured that roughly half of the various Lord, Ladies, and Heads of House were absent that day, and of the few people taking their own seats that he recognized, he liked almost none of them. Yaxley, Burke, and Selwyn are all here, of course, Harry spotted, little toadies like them would never miss a chance to demonstrate their allegiance.
Lately, he had spent more time than he’d ever hoped to memorizing all the various Houses which made up the Wizengamot, and the corresponding heads of each one. By the estimates that Hermione and Daphne had come up with, they figured that the Wizengamot was split roughly in thirds, between the traditionalists supporting Cyrus’s bill, “reformists” like himself who opposed it, and fence-sitters whose vote couldn’t be easily anticipated.
As far as Harry could tell, this neutral faction held the majority of those in attendance, mostly minor houses or newly-founded ones (“new” is relative, Harry thought, given that there’s a couple on their second generation already…) that probably showed up mostly to affirm that they were, in fact, members of the Wizarding ruling class.
A few seats away from his, Harry glimpsed Susan Bones taking her own seat, and despite his consternation, he couldn’t help but return the bright grin that she flashed at him.
He still felt guilty for accidentally embroiling her into this whole scheme that he was part of, but for whatever reason, she didn’t seem to mind the ruse of acting as if she and him were a courting couple, rather than the good friends they actually were.
Speaking of Harry’s good friends, he really wished that Hermione was here with him today, but she had been insistent (in her classic Hermione fashion) that he’d have to pull this particular gambit off himself, so that he didn’t risk portraying himself as reliant on his representative to accomplish anything.
That would be much closer to the truth, he grumbled, ‘Mione’s way better suited to all this political shite than I’ll ever be.
By the time that the final few stragglers trickled in, Harry’s gaze had become fixated on the podium below him, where the Chief Warlock – Cyrus, of course – would appear any minute. Sure enough, when the man made his own entrance, he was dressed just as ostentatiously as Harry’s own costume, his robes trimmed with the green and silvery-blue banners of his house.
While Cyrus Greengrass wasn’t quite as sneering as Lucius Malfoy had been, the comparison wasn’t too far off: Cyrus was tall, with hawkish features and sharp blue eyes that left a somewhat regal impression to him. Harry preferred to recall when Cyrus flinched away from him nervously at a dinner party of Ron and Astoria’s, when Harry had flexed a bit of his magical power to make his displeasure known.
The faint hum of background conversation dimmed as Cyrus took the podium, his voice booming with the aid of a sonorous charm.
“The four hundred and fifty ninth session of the Wizengamot shall begin following the call of roll and opening remarks,” Cyrus announced, and Harry started to tune out the various traditional phrases which followed.
Harry called out “present”, as expected of him, when it was his turn, but was otherwise quite happy to ignore the trappings of bureaucracy which surrounded this event. He did start to pay more attention when Humphrey Burke stood from his seat, clearing his throat and rustling through some papers in his hands.
“My Lords, my Ladies,” Burke began, his voice wobbly, “Wizards and Witches of the Wizengamot, I bid you welcome and good tidings. In the hallowed halls of this great institution, we have the opportunity to provide a guiding hand for our people, to maintain the traditions which have made Magical Britain great.”
Ugh, Harry thought.
“While many of us may disagree with each other on the finer details of what such governance entails, I have full faith, my Lords and Ladies, that we all desire what is best for our people. When we debate matters of particularly contentious nature, it is unfortunate that sometimes our tempers may grow hot, and sometimes, our tongues may slip, causing us to speak regrettably.”
Harry could see the speech that Burke held trembling in his grasp, as Susan leaned forward with intent interest.
“I am one such person,” Burke continued, then paused after the admission, “last year, I made the mistake of saying words that could have been understood to imply that Lady Susan Bones was comporting herself improperly, and for this, she has my true, sincere apologies.”
Burke stiffly bowed towards Susan, and she smirked at the gesture.
You’re only “apologizing” because you lost a duel over it, Harry knew, unimpressed as ever with Burke.
“I conclude my opening remarks,” Burke muttered, “by imploring each and every one of us to maintain our civility, to conduct ourselves as men and women of our status ought to. That is all, Chief Warlock, I yield the floor.”
There was a light smattering of half-hearted applause at the conclusion of Burke’s speech, a baffling display of false humility from a man who was all too eager to behave uncivilly.
“With the conclusion of these opening remarks,” Cyrus Greengrass spoke, “the four hundredth and fifty-ninth session of the Wizengamot begins.”
He clapped his gavel against the podium.
“As the first order of business, we are due for the primary reading of the bill of Marriage Reform and Modernization. If there are no motions regarding the conduct of this reading, it shall begin immediately.”
Right, that’s my cue, Harry rose to his feet, holding his wand into the air.
“Chief Warlock!” he announced, “I wish to file such a motion!”
Harry could feel Cyrus fix his gaze on him, but after a moment where he almost seemed to sigh, Cyrus continued his officious announcements.
“The Wizengamot recognizes Lord Harry Potter,” Cyrus answered, “Lord of House Black. State your motion, Lord of Potter and Black.”
“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” Harry forced himself to keep his tone even, “the proposed bill is one that I believe will do much to redress developments in our society that have not been properly accounted for by our current laws.”
Some parts aren’t that bad, Harry thought, others would move us back two centuries.
“I believe that chief among the shortcomings of the current legislation,” Harry continued, “is the fact that our laws do not officially recognize marriages which have been consecrated by any means other than those most traditional vows and rituals.”
He heard a few mutters pass through the chamber, as no doubt a few people were surprised by the revelation that their marriage might not have officially counted as one.
“Before we begin to debate the various processes by which these bonds of matrimony might be dissolved,” Harry continued, swallowing his pride, “I would argue that it is best to officially recognize the definition of this sacred bond. Chief Warlock, I move that section one of the bill of Marriage Reform and Modernization be divided from the remainder, and that these articles should be ratified under a separate act of the Wizengamot. We should not dally in addressing the oversights of our predecessors, so I speak in support of the immediate passage of these articles.”
Harry wasn’t a fan of the way that he appeared to be supporting Cyrus, let alone of the stilted language he had to use, but it wasn’t the worst compromise he’d ever found himself making.
“I move,” Harry finished, “that these logical, common sense definitions are formally established under the Recognition of Magical Marriage Act. I yield the floor, Chief Warlock.”
As Harry sat back down, quiet mutters began to echo through the chamber once again. Across the room, he spotted Humphrey Burke staring at him with undisguised confusion on his face.
No doubt surprised to see me speaking out in favour of Cyrus, Harry mused, that’s the trick, really.
Though the whole ploy rankled at Harry’s thoughts a bit, this motion of his was merely step one of the plans which Daphne, Sue, and Hermione had worked with him to develop. They all understood the risk that, if Harry took too aggressive a stance against Lord Greengrass, his opposition might wind up pushing some of the neutral faction into Cyrus’s arms.
Instead – taking advantage of Harry’s blunder where he accidentally publicly announced his and Sue’s “courtship” – they intended to portray him as a newly-initiated ally to Lord Greengrass, one who was even beginning the process of courting Cyrus’s daughter Daphne.
They hoped that, in doing so, Harry’s later objections to the more odious parts of Cyrus’s proposed bill wouldn’t be seen as true opposition, but rather as if he merely had some quibbles with minor details. Not a battle, but a conversation.
“The Wizengamot recognizes the motion from Lord Potter and Black,” Cyrus announced, “and, should no objections be raised, a procedural vote shall be held, to confirm the furcation of section one of the Marriage Reform and Modernization bill into the Recognition of Magical Marriage Act. Are there any such objections?”
It looked as if Humphrey Burke was about to stand up again, but after Cyrus flicked a glare in his direction, the Lord Burke slumped back down into his seat.
“With no objections, this vote shall now be held by those in attendance at this session. All those voting ‘aye’, raise their wands.”
Harry was one of the people to do so, casting a soft glow of light to signal his vote, since it would be the absolute height of absurdity to vote against his own proposal.
“All those voting ‘nay’, raise their wands.”
It was immediately obvious that the “nay” votes were badly outnumbered. In truth, even though this was merely part of a scheme, Harry didn’t even find that section of Cyrus’s bill too objectionable – it was just boring legal-speak outlining that yes, people who got married were actually married.
True, it was awfully restrictive in that it defined marriage as a status between a man and a woman, but even Sue wasn’t expecting Wizarding society to recognize gay relationships before they’d dragged their culture a bit closer to modernity.
“This motion passes,” Cyrus thumped his gavel against the podium, “and with this passage, the remaining text of the bill proposing Marriage Reform and Modernization shall be withdrawn from reading, pending the removal of its first section.”
His plan complete, Harry was happy to start tuning out the next orders of business once again, idly entertaining himself in his own thoughts until the session (one which had become much briefer than anticipated) was formally closed.
Harry walked towards the exits, before he was stopped by a firm grip on his arm.
“Lord Potter,” Susan greeted him, a smirk barely hidden in her expression, “that was quite a judicious motion, we are lucky to have a man of your insight joining us today.”
“My thanks, Lady Bones,” Harry replied formally, and just barely resisted the temptation to roll his eyes while doing so, “I look forward to working with you more in the future.”
“Just so,” Sue grinned, “speaking of which, I’ll see you for dinner, right? Seven o’ clock?”
“Of course,” Harry agreed, “I look forward to that even more.”
As they made their ways separately from the Wizengamot chambers, Harry couldn’t help but shake his head at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. For the various Lords, Ladies, and so on that had witnessed this interaction, it would have been seen as barely-disguised flirtation between a Lord and Lady who were well into their courtship.
He wasn’t a fan of the way that he was using Susan to present a fake relationship for the public, but Harry had to admit that he was at least glad that it was a good friend of his that he was faking it with.
“How’d it go?” Daphne asked as soon as he returned home.
“Brilliantly, actually,” Harry answered, reaching up to undo his tie as soon as he could, “the motion you and Hermione planned out passed by a good margin, and everything wrapped up pretty quick after that.”
“Good,” Daphne replied, before throwing her arms around him and giving him a kiss, “I told you that it wasn’t going to be that bad.”
“It wasn’t,” Harry admitted, “but I know it’s only going to get worse from here.”
“You’ll probably wind up becoming a political prodigy out of nowhere,” Pansy greeted him as she entered the room, “since you’re apparently incapable of being mediocre at anything, and all.”
“Hey, Pans,” Harry smiled, as his other girlfriend joined Daphne’s embrace, “how was the rest the day for you two, anyway?”
“I didn’t get up to much, actually,” Daphne turned to peck a kiss into the top of Pansy’s head, “I found it kind of hard to focus. I know that it wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it felt big, what you did today.”
“Did it?” Harry wondered.
“Absolutely,” Daphne continued, “now we’ve proven that you have the clout to get a motion passed just by your recommendation, and we’ve bought some time while the marriage bill gets re-written.”
“Meanwhile, I, too,” Pansy interjected, “have been busy with very important matters, you know.”
“Such as?” Harry teased, giving her a quick kiss.
“I’ve been embroiled in my devious schemes to pull the wool over the eyes of Magical Britain, of course,” Pansy drawled, “what else?”
“She laid out an outfit for you,” Daphne smirked at their girlfriend’s melodramatic delivery, “for your dinner.”
“Right, yeah,” Harry nodded, “thanks, Pans. I know you think I can’t be mediocre at anything, but I’m absolute shite at fabric-transfiguration charms.”
“You’re lucky that you have a woman of my talents around,” Pansy sniffed, before a wry grin broke across her face, “besides, I want you looking your best when you show up at Bones’s for reasons all of my own.”
“You don’t actually have to stake your claim, you know,” Daphne joked.
“I might be convinced, one day, to tolerate Bones to a degree,” Pansy argued, “but I will never be persuaded to allow our boyfriend to be caught looking anything but his best. Certainly not when he’s specifically supposed to be spotted visiting her.”
“Fuck, that’s a good point,” Harry muttered, catching the time, “I wish I could stay longer, but Sue made a point out of mentioning the time I was expected for ‘dinner’, I should run soon.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Daphne purred, as she wrapped her arms around Pansy from behind, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to stay busy...”
“I could be a bit late,” Harry argued.
“No, you can’t,” Pansy smacked his arm lightly, before trailing her fingers over his wrist, “so you’ll just have to make your absence up to us later, hmm?”
Harry found that he liked that idea quite a lot.
Although Harry hadn’t noticed any suspicious characters lurking around when he made his promised appearance at Bones Manor, he wouldn’t have been shocked if there was an enterprising member of the media (Witch Weekly gets sneakier every year, he thought) surreptitiously watching him from somewhere.
Harry knocked on the door, wearing what looked like an honest-to-Merlin tuxedo, apparently “appropriate apparel for an evening engagement”. When Susan opened the door, she, too, was dramatically overdressed, in a full-blown gown.
Still, she pulls it off better than I’m managing this, Harry mused.
“Lady Bones,” Harry bent to take her hand in his, raising her knuckle near to his lips, “good evening.”
“Lord Potter,” Susan returned the greeting, “good evening. Step inside, please.”
Once the door closed, Susan broke into loud laughter, guffawing at him as Harry’s ears started to burn.
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” she teased, and waved her wand over herself, turning her clothes into a jeans and t-shirt outfit which was more typical for her, “here we are, a lovey-dovey couple for weeks now and all, and you don’t even dare to touch your lips against my hand! Why, a chaste maiden like myself is honoured by your restraint, my lord.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry muttered as he activated the charms that Pansy had woven into his tuxedo, and it suddenly became a (much more comfortable) jumper and pair of trousers, “laugh it up, I know you aren’t enjoying the whole ladylike act any more than I am.”
“Who’s to say it’s an act?” Sue batted her eyelashes, “after all, I am, in fact, a delicate, fancy, noble Lady!”
“I’ve seen you drink a pint in three seconds flat,” Harry reminded her, “and follow it up by headbutting Seamus so hard you almost broke his nose.”
“Heh, yeah,” Sue agreed, “fuckin’ right you have. Speaking of which, beer’s in the fridge in the kitchen, grab me one while you’re at it, would you?”
“Cheers,” Harry agreed, wandering off to do just that.
While they’d been friendly enough as students at Hogwarts, Harry’s friendship with Sue had really blossomed in the years following. The girl he’d known who often waffled between shyness and being bluntly outspoken grew up into a fierce and unabashed woman, one who had always been up for a night on the town in the last years of his teens that Harry had mostly spent at pubs.
He was grateful for her friendship, but even more thankful that he’d managed to pick up on the fact that she wasn’t interested in dating men before he’d ever had the chance to get any kind of foolish ideas in his head and risk spoiling their dynamic. While Harry had eventually figured out how to navigate a “friends with benefits” situation (which involved mutual attraction, of course) by his twenties, at that earlier age, he figured that he would have latched onto even a one-sided interest of his own without much grace.
“Cheers!” Sue spoke her gratitude when Harry passed her a cold bottle of brown ale, before he slumped into a cushioned chair across from her.
“So,” Harry grumbled, “that felt a bit too easy, this afternoon.”
“Yeah,” Sue agreed, “did you catch old Humphrey about to mouth off?”
“I did,” Harry confirmed, “I wasn’t expecting that he’d be sharp enough to notice that I was pulling something.”
“Eh,” Sue shrugged, “it’s not like Cyrus isn’t going to be able to tell that we’re up to something, but it’s not like we’re trying to convince him, anyways.”
“Right, yeah,” Harry snorted, taking a swig of his ale, “just, you know, pulling the wool over the eyes of a third of the Wizengamot, half the media, and even a chunk of our friends.”
“Well, it isn’t all bad,” Sue smiled at him, “after all, once this is all over, you’ll be able to go public about Daph and Pansy, yeah?”
“I guess so,” Harry shrugged that time, “it still feels a bit unfair to you, though.”
“Oh, I’ve had break-ups before,” Sue drank from her ale, “and I seem to have survived intact. I’m quite sure I’ll manage to get past the tragedy of letting the Harry Potter slip through my fingers.”
“Fuck off,” Harry chuckled, and Sue mockingly raised her bottle in cheers, “what I mean is, all this shite is holding you back from actually meeting someone, isn’t it?”
“Nah,” Sue dismissed the idea, and didn’t elaborate further.
“Nah?” Harry asked, seeking clarification.
“It’s, uh, not a great time for me to be dating, anyways,” Sue explained, “you remember how I’m working with the DMLE now, right?”
“Of course,” Harry wasn’t directly part of the Aurors, but he was connected enough to have heard of Sue’s new position even before she’d told him.
“Well, that’s going to be keeping me busy enough on its own,” Sue continued, “and that’s without even getting into all that goes into running House Bones. And everything else.”
“Everything else?” Harry wondered.
“It’s not exactly the most appealing thing,” Susan waved her bottle around in a dismissive gesture, “to tell some girl ‘hey, so I’m going to be too busy to see you much, and we’ll have to keep our relationship secret, and, oh right, on top of all that, I’m going to wind up marrying a bloke one day so I can have an heir… but anyways, wanna date?’, is it?”
“Fuck,” Harry muttered, “sorry, Sue, I didn’t think that through.”
“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Sue grinned, apparently unbothered by these circumstances, “I figure it’ll work out when it works out, but there’s bigger things I have to worry about right now, anyways.”
“Yeah,” Harry still felt this was unfair, but he couldn’t see any way he could possibly help her.
Sue took another drink from her beer, and Harry joined her, not sure what he should say next.
“Besides,” Sue continued, “I’ve got loads of toys that keep me from getting too lonely, yeah?”
Harry snorted hard enough that his ale sprayed out of his nose, prompting Sue to break down into howls of laughter.
“Fucking classic,” She teased, before swigging the rest of her own beer, “since you’ve apparently forgotten how to drink, go grab the rest of that box, would you? I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Harry wiped his drink from his face, “any other requests, my Lady?”
“Nah,” Sue chuckled, “since I’ve gotta tolerate your company for a few hours yet anyway, I figure a few drinks should be enough to tide me over.”
“I’m so grateful for your generosity,” Harry joked, and finished his own beer. Sue tauntingly dangled her empty bottle towards him as he walked past her, grinning up at him when he obligingly took it from her hand.
Harry figured that there were definitely worse ways to participate a complicated political scheme than spending a night drinking with Sue.