Whispers of a Raven - Nuptials

“It is finally nice to meet you, Miss Black,” Edgar offered. “Harry is always speaking about you, and now I finally get to meet the woman who has been lumbered with the git.”

Harry shot the redhead a challenging look that Edgar ignored, his amused eyes remaining firmly on the smirking blonde.

“Someone has to bear the burden,” she sighed. “Honestly, I’ll be grey before I’m thirty at this rate.”

Edgar chuckled and Harry shook his head.

“I already am from spending time in his company. You have my condolences,” the former replied dramatically.

“You’re grey because you’re an old bastard,” Harry returned, eliciting a belly laugh from his friend.

“I’m twenty-nine,” Edgar pointed out.

“And you look thirty-nine,” Harry countered. “You’ve not even known me a year. Give it a few more when you look sixty, then you can blame me.”

“Oh, I will, Peverell,” Edgar snorted, “and Ellie here will know just who to blame for my untimely death.”

Edgar’s fiancé raised an eyebrow at her intended.

“If you think I will blame Harry for your shortcomings, you have another thing coming, Edgar Bones,” she quipped. “You bring it all on yourself, and besides, it’s your own fault for associating with him.”

Harry didn’t know if he should feel proud of the woman or insulted. Regardless, he laughed at Edgar’s pout.

Ellie Goldstein was the woman that Edgar had been courting for the past several months, long enough for him to decide she was the woman he wished to marry.

“Aww, poor Ed, does the truth hurt?”

“It does,” Edgar said thoughtfully. “I was under the impression that marrying you would mean you’re on my side.”

The woman cupped his cheek and shook her head slowly.

“You have so much to learn about me, Ed.”

He pouted again, and Harry and Narcissa watched the back and forth between the two with amusement.

“This is your doing, Peverell,” Edgar accused. “She was a nice girl.”

“You do it for yourself, Bones,” Harry retorted. “You’re not as charming as you think you are.”

“That’s probably true,” Edgar conceded with a sigh.

The two Lords had gotten into the habit of meeting up over the past months, striking up an easy friendship through a shared interest in Quidditch, being on the Wizengamot together and exploring the food on offer in various establishments in Diagon Alley. They had visited each eatery more than once, though this was the first time they were being joined by Narcissa and Ellie.

Narcissa was usually working when Harry and Edgar met, and Ellie had admittedly been nervous about dining with the Lord Peverell and one of the infamous Blacks. She had come round to the idea, however, and seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Edgar tells me that you harvest ingredients for potions,” Harry prompted the woman who nodded enthusiastically.

“I always enjoyed Herbology and Care of Magical creatures. I kind of just fell into the job,” Ellie explained.

“And I will soon have a house full of jars containing only Merlin knows what,” Edgar huffed good-naturedly. “On our first date, she showed me her collection of venoms she’s gathered. I still have no idea how she got close enough to a manticore.”

“That is impressive,” Harry praised.

“It’s just a matter of understanding their mood,” Ellie explained.

“Just like with men,” Narcissa offered.

Ellie grinned as she nodded.

“Exactly,” she agreed.

“Did they just compare us to a grotesque creature?” Edgar muttered to Harry who nodded.

“I think they did.”

“Unbelievable,” Edgar despaired. “You know, I think I preferred it when it was just us.”

“Aww, are we intruding on your odd little dates?” Ellie cooed. “I think we should do this more often.”

“As do I,” Narcissa confirmed.

“Bloody hell, are you happy, Peverell? We just became those couples,” Edgar grumbled, his smirk belying his words.

“This is your fault, you git,” Harry fired back. “You were the one that insisted.”

Edgar scowled but had no rebuttal.

“It could be worse,” Harry comforted, “we could be here with the twins.”

Edgar grimaced.

“As much as I love Fabian and Gideon, they’re too rowdy for me,” he snorted. “I heard they stole two of Aberforth’s goats and tried to ride them through the streets of Hogsmeade last week.”

“I heard your sister was the one who arrested them and had her hair turned pink for her troubles.”

Edgar guffawed and slapped the top of the table jovially.

“It took Millie three days to fix it.”

“Maybe I can get them to do it to Walburga at the wedding,” Harry mused aloud.

“Not at the wedding, Harry,” Narcissa said firmly. “I would like one day without her screeching.”

“I could just put a muzzle on her,” Harry offered.

A ghost of a smirk tugged at Narcissa’s lips, but she shook her head after a moment.

“As tempting as that is, we’d better not.”

“Damn!” Harry mumbled. “It was worth a try.”

“Speaking of the wedding…” Narcissa prompted him.

Harry nodded and met the gaze of his friend.

“Well, apparently, I need to have a best man and was wondering if you would do it?”

Edgar smirked and nodded.

“Only if you agree to do it for me,” he replied. “I want a speech and a resounding endorsement from Lord Peverell himself.”

“You’ll get a speech and a slap,” Harry returned.

Edgar beamed at him and nodded once more.

“A speech without the slap and you have a deal.”

“Done,” Harry agreed, shaking the offered hand.

“Can you two not do anything normally?” Ellie questioned. “This is important.”

“Is it?” Edgar replied. “All this idiot has to do is make sure I arrive on time, don’t run away and tell everyone how great I am. Even Peverell can manage that.”

“Yeah, but you have to give a speech in front of the Blacks. If you do a poor job, you’ll be murdered in your sleep,” Harry pointed out.

Edgar’s eyes widened and Narcissa tutted.

“Don’t say that, Harry,” she huffed. “It will be the Lady Peverell he’d have to deal with.”

“Err, Peverell…”

“Too late, you shook my hand,” Harry cut him off.

“Bollocks!” Edgar cursed. “This is what I get for spending time with you.”

“It is.”

Edgar shook his head, still smirking but giving Harry a look of indignation.

“I have been told that you’re a healer,” Ellie broke in, addressing Narcissa. “I can only imagine how busy you’ve been over the past year.”

Narcissa nodded.

Although the attacks had stopped since the Hogsmeade incident almost two months prior, and the shifts at St Mungo’s were not so daunting, Narcissa was still remarkably busy as a trainee.

Often. Harry would return home to find her sleeping with her head in a book or reading up on previous cases to prepare for assessments. He certainly didn’t envy her for her chosen career and just how difficult it was.

He had busied himself with teaching, playing Quidditch and reading the Peverell grimoire, a volume that proved to be invaluable in understanding his magic.

He was close to completion, having gathered a considerable amount of knowledge passed on from the three brothers, but also a task he would need to complete upon doing so. It was unnerving to say the least, but the benefits would undoubtedly outweigh his concerns.

A part of him knew this conclusion was what the cloaked figure had been alluding to. Along with the spells and information that gave him clarity, it was this final step that would bring it all together. Although what was seemingly expected had not been done to this extent, it made sense for him to do it.

It was the only way he could see to becoming the balance that Death insisted he needed to be.

“I’m grateful everything has calmed down for the time being,” Narcissa replied. “It has given me time to focus on my studies, prepare for the wedding, and work on the house in between. I’m taking Harry to see it for the first time today,” she explained.

“You’ve not even seen your home yet?” Edgar asked. “You’re a brave man, Peverell. If I allowed Ellie to have her way with ours, it would be full of cushions, jars and plants.”

Harry chuckled whilst Ellie looked towards her fiancé, unamused by his summary.

“I trust Narcissa.” Harry said with a shrug. “I’ve got no clue about what to do in a house.”

Edgar nodded his understanding.

“I’m fortunate that ours is an old an established one,” he sympathised. “Not much to do other than maintenance work from time to time.”

“Anyway,” Ellie cut in, “we shouldn’t keep you from seeing your home together. Go and enjoy it. It seems that Narcissa has put a lot of work into it, and I bet she can’t wait to show you.”

Narcissa offered the woman a grateful smile and Harry placed a few galleons on the table to pay for their meals.

“Quidditch on Saturday?” he asked the Lord Bones, who nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ll even bring this one along if I can drag her away from gutting something,” he replied with a wink.

“I’ll be there,” Ellie confirmed, “but Edgar here might not if he carries on the way he is. Can I bring him into you to get his head looked at?” she questioned Narcissa. “I’m sure he’s suffering from a deficiency of sorts.”

“You could,” Narcissa mused aloud. “I can’t promise he would be returned the way you left him with us though.”

Ellie seemed to ponder it for a moment before deflating.

“I suppose I’ll have to put up with him as he is,” she decided. “He’s a pain, but I wouldn’t change him.”

Edgar breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

“I’m glad that’s settled. You’d better watch yourself, Peverell,” he warned. “Healers are amazing people, but don’t forget, they can pick you apart just as well as they can put you back together.”

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully and Harry frowned.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Nothing, Harry,” Narcissa said sweetly. “Come along now, we wouldn’t want to be late.”

“We are visiting our own home, how will we be late?” he pressed, ignoring the laughter of Edgar that followed as they exited the pub.

“It looks nice in the afternoon sun,” Narcissa replied. “Now, take my hand and stop sulking.”

Harry snorted as he did so and felt himself being whisked away from Diagon Alley before appearing on an empty beach only a moment later.

“Where are the people?” he asked.

“This is our beach,” Narcissa explained. “No one can come here other than us.”

“I like this place already,” Harry declared as Narcissa began leading him away from the sea and towards a large, iron gate with the Peverell family crest nestled prominently in the centre.

“You did this?”

Narcissa nodded.

“This is going to be the Peverell family home, isn’t it?”

It warmed him to think that she would put so much thought and consideration into something like this, but it was just Narcissa’s way. She had proven to be a very giving person, so he shouldn’t have been surprised by the gesture.

“It will,” he agreed, taking in the gate and the surrounding wall. “You Blacks don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

“No,” Narcissa agreed. “This house was purchased as a holiday home by my great-grandfather. It never really got used by any, other than my parents, and now, it is our home,” she explained, tapping the gate with her wand.

It opened and Harry followed her onto a long driveway that led the way towards a much larger house than he had been expecting.

“That’s your idea of a holiday home?” he asked.

“It’s like you said, we don’t do anything by halves,” she returned with a grin, taking his hand and dragging him forward excitably.

She had been working on the house for weeks, decorating it in a way she thought that both her and Harry would like. He had given her his blessing to do what she wished with their home, and she had done just that.

“How big is it?” he asked as they neared the steps to the front door.

“It has eight bedrooms and six bathrooms,” Narcissa answered.

Harry shook his head.

It was a beautiful house, plastered white with dark woodwork on the outside, likely dating back three or four hundred years at least.

“What do you think?” Narcissa asked nervously as they entered and found themselves in the entrance hall.

The floor was wooden, matching the outside of the house and the walls cream, bright enough to lighten the house but not too bright to make it overwhelming.

“I haven’t done much down here,” she explained. “I liked it how it was, I just changed a few things. The Black coat of arms used to be above the fireplace in there, but I changed it for the Peverell one.”

Harry nodded and entered the indicated room, a lounge of sorts with a forest green feature wall where the aforementioned fireplace was.

“You don’t have to take everything of your family away,” he said sincerely. “Just because you’re marrying me, that doesn’t mean you can’t be proud of being a Black.”

She seemed relieved and smiled gratefully when Harry split the Peverell coat of arms in two, and with a wave of his wand, created two smaller ones side by side, one for each family.

“So, what else is there?” he asked curiously.

“Well, there is another lounge, the kitchens, a dining room and two bathrooms down here,” Narcissa explained, “but I think you would like to see the basement.”

“And what have you done down there?”

Narcissa grinned and gestured for him to follow her through a door in the adjoining lounge that was decorated similarly to the other.

Harry found himself in a large open space with training dummies and bookshelves lining one side of the room. The centre was left clear for practicing magic and there was a study area in the far corner with what Harry assumed was an enchanted window that allowed the natural light to pour in.

“I thought you would like this space for whatever it is you do,” Narcissa explained, “somewhere you can escape from everyone when you feel like it.”

Harry smiled and pulled the woman into his arms. She knew him far too well already.

“What about you?” he questioned. “Wouldn’t you want this for your potions.”

Narcissa grimaced as she shook her head.

“I spent the best part of seven years underground at Hogwarts working on potions. I have a room on the top floor for that now.”

“Ah, so I’m left alone to lurk in the basement whilst you get a nice room?” he quipped.

“Basement lurking suits you more than it does me, Harry,” Narcissa returned. “I quite like the sunlight. Now, would you like to see the rest of the house or would you like to try continuing to argue with me?”

Even before she had finished speaking, she had left the room and was ascending the staircase when Harry caught up with her.

“You know, I don’t like arguing with you,” he muttered. “You always walk away before I get the chance to say anything back.”

“Well, that’s because anything you say would be wasted words,” she teased. “You will never win an argument with me, Harry.”

“We will see about that,” he grumbled and Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him.

“Is that so?” she asked. “I look forward to your efforts.”

Harry said nothing further until they reached the second floor of the house.

“And what do we have up here?”

“We have the library, five bedrooms and three bathrooms,” Narcissa informed him.

“There’s a lot of bedrooms,” Harry pointed out.

“There is,” Narcissa agreed. “You don’t expect the children to share, do you? We may even have guests occasionally.”

“That is true, but I do have a question. With this being a Black home, is there anything I should be wary of? Other than you, of course.”

Narcissa smirked but shook her head.

“No, there wasn’t any cursed items here, but some of the books are ones that Bella brought from Grimmauld Place, so you may want to be careful with those. I think one of them will try to bite your fingers.”

“I look forward to that,” Harry said dryly, remembering the nature of the books the Blacks took an interest in.

He had even come across one at number twelve that had set fire to Hermione’s trousers when she opened it. Both Harry and Ron had found it highly amusing. Their bushy-haired friend had not.

“And on the top floor we have another bathroom and three bedrooms?”

“We do,” Narcissa confirmed, “but we have our own bathroom in our room, and my potions room, of course,” she added. “Our bedroom is the only one I decorated. I thought we would save the rest until we need to.”

“You mean when we have children?”

Narcissa nodded and took him by the hand. Leading him towards a set of double doors, she gave him a nervous smile before pushing them open.

“I love it,” he declared having taken a moment to absorb the work she had put into it.

The bed was an enormous four poster with dark green curtains that matched the ones lining the ceiling to floor windows. On the outside of those was a balcony with a table and two chairs tucked underneath.

The floor was as it was throughout the rest of the house, but with a thick, black rug in front of the fireplace.

It was spacious but cosy.

Harry had never truly had his own room before, and as he stepped onto the balcony with Narcissa on his arms, he knew he wouldn’t want one. This was theirs and he wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.

“I think we’ll be happy here,” he said, his eyes roaming towards the Quidditch pitch on the grounds his wife-to-be had evidently built for him.

(Break)

“Not long to go until the wedding,” Charlus commented.

Arcturus and Cygnus had joined him in the basement whilst Druella, Dorea, and Melania were discussing final preparations. The latter of the men was being oddly civil, likely preferring to do so than be subjected to any more talks of weddings.

“And then it will be only Sirius and Regulus,” Arcturus replied. “Eventually all of them will be married.”

“Thank Merlin,” Cygnus mumbled. “As much as I love my daughters, I don’t think I could cope with organising another marriage.”

“You’ve done nothing of the sort,” Arcturus snorted. “For Bella’s and Narcissa’s wedding, you have ducked out of every commitment.”

Cygnus grinned smugly.

“I learnt from the best.”

Arcturus appeared to be a mixture of proud and irritated, but settled for a grunt of acknowledgement, not wanting to stroke his son’s already inflated ego.

“I am pleased they are keeping it simple,” the older Black declared. “I couldn’t stand a day of arse-kissing and pompous posturing from the rest of the shits that would be there if not.”

Both Charlus and Cygnus nodded their agreements.

“It’s for the best,” Charlus sighed. “Harry would not stand for it and neither would Cissy. I don’t know who I’d want to upset least,” he chuckled.

“My Narcissa is quiet, but a handful when she loses her temper,” Cygnus replied with a shrug. “I still remember when Bella took her mirror.”

“The one Cassie gave her?”

Cygnus nodded.

“That was a hell of a throttling curse,” he muttered. “Took both me and Druella to put an end to it. Bella had those bruises for weeks after.”

“She’s a handful,” Arcturus said with a smirk. “Between her and Peverell, I feel sorry for any brat they have.”

“Ha! Harry will be a bloody pushover,” Charlus proclaimed. “According to Cissy, little Nymphadora has got him wrapped around her finger.”

“I heard,” Cygnus said disapprovingly. “They’re having dinner together tonight.                           They’re also inviting them to the wedding. All of them.”

“With my blessing,” Arcturus pointed out. “They would have done it anyway, but I respect that they asked. I think they wanted to avoid any unpleasantness.”

“With Walburga there? That is impossible.”

“Then I’ll be cursing her fat arse out of her seat,” Arcturus warned. “I’ve already spoken to Orion and he has assured me he will keep her trap shut.”

“What about you, Cygnus? Will you be okay with it?” Charlus pressed.

“I won’t pretend to be happy about it, but this is Narcissa’s day, and I won’t ruin it for her. Besides, Druella has already threated to have my balls if I am not civil at least.”

Charlus grinned at the thought.

“Has she met him yet?” Arcturus asked, referring to Druella and Andromeda’s husband.

“No, he has made himself scarce whilst she spends time with Andi and her daughter,” Cygnus explained. “Druella is happy though, and that’s all that matters.”

“And will you see them?” Charlus questioned the man.

Cygnus nodded.

“I will,” he sighed, “it’s just that so many things were said that I can’t take back. Truthfully, I’m ashamed to face her.”

Charlus nodded his understanding.

“She will respect you more if you swallow your pride,” he offered, not because he wished to make it easy for Cygnus, but because Andromeda needed her family.

The woman was not having an easy time of it since they had turned their backs on her, but she was coping as best she could.

“What about Bellatrix?”

Cygnus shook his head.

“We haven’t seen her for weeks,” he answered with a shrug. “She won’t change her mind. She’s too far into this pureblood movement and the Lestranges now. She’s not the same anymore,” he added sadly.

“No, she isn’t,” Arcturus agreed. “I don’t suppose she will be at the wedding?”

“I’d bet my last galleon she won’t, not unless she wishes to try and upset Peverell, and we all saw how that ended up last time.”

“She would be a fool to do so,” Arcturus muttered. “I doubt even if Narcissa begged it would stop him from killing her.”

“Narcissa wouldn’t stop him,” Cygnus countered. “There’s only so much you can push her, and Bella is already toeing a fine line.”

“Then let us hope that she doesn’t attend,” Arcturus sighed. “She would only have herself to blame for anything that happens to her.

(Break)

With how he interacted with Nymphadora, it was hard to believe that Harry Peverell was perhaps the most dangerous person Andromeda had ever met. The same man that had almost strangled Selwyn in Diagon Alley and sent the Dark Lord packing was currently being ridden around her living room like a pony, neighing on command.

“Faster horsey!” the little metamorph commanded, giggling as Harry reared up and caught her when she was sent tumbling from his back.

“He will be a fantastic father,” Andromeda commented, laughing at the antics of the pair.

Nymphadora was smitten with the man, her eyes widening and hair shifting through a myriad of colours whenever they visited. She would not give him a moment of peace, something Harry took in his stride.

“He will,” Narcissa agreed, “but I dread them taking after him. If he has his way, they will be on brooms before they can walk.”

Andromeda smirked.

“I don’t doubt that. Congratulations Cissy, your children will be as crazy as your husband.”

The blonde smiled dreamily as she nodded.

“They will be happy.”

“Of course they will,” Andromeda sighed. “Can you imagine Harry saying no to any of them?”

Narcissa shook her head.

“No, that will have to be me,” she snorted. “He’ll be too soft.”

“That’s our job,” Ted interjected. “Andi’s the one that is the scary parent.”

“I’m not scary, Ted,” Andromeda countered, “I am firm when I need to be.”

“I know, dear,” the man replied amusedly. “That’s why Dora comes to me if she wants something.”

“She manipulates you,” Andromeda corrected, “and you fall for it every time.”

Ted frowned.

“How can I say no to her?” he asked. “She gives me this look and her eyes fill with tears.”

“The same trick you used to use on father,” Narcissa reminder her older sister.

Andromeda hummed.

“I suppose my husband is as easily fooled as he was.”

It was still odd for Andromeda to be in the company of her sister after more than three years apart. When she had fled from her family, she never envisioned she would see any of them again in such circumstances, not after the threats made against her and Ted.

Narcissa had never done anything of the sort, but she hadn’t spoken up for her either. Not that Andromeda could blame her. Had her younger sister done so, she too would have been made a pariah.

“I will check on dinner,” Andromeda announced, exiting the living room and entering the kitchen.

Regardless of what had happened, she was pleased to see Cissy again. She had missed her and was happy that things were going well for her. She couldn’t imagine what miserable life she would have had with Lucius, but Harry was a good man, something he had proven with his intervention in the alley.

Ted had been wary of meeting them both and had kept his distance until this evening, again, not something Andromeda could blame him for. He had received numerous threats over the years from her family members and others who took exception to him marrying her. However, seeing how Nymphadora was growing closer to both Harry and Narcissa, he had relented.

Harry had made it much easier on the man with how he interacted with their daughter and showing no signs of prejudice towards him. He had treated Ted with respect, as Harry would any other person he met. Unless they had provoked his ire.

The one person Ted had yet to meet that Andromeda had reconnected with was her mother. Even for her, being around the woman who raised her was a tense and awkward affair for both. Druella had not taken part in the threats against her daughter but she had turned her away when she needed her most.

Andromeda would never forgive her for what she had done, but she was trying to make amends.

“Dinner is ready,” she called.

She looked on as Ted and Narcissa entered the kitchen, followed by Harry who had Dora hanging off his leg as though she was a limpet.

“And how are you supposed to eat whilst clinging to Harry?” she asked her daughter.

The little metamorph pouted, but released his leg and reluctantly took her seat, sliding it closer to the Peverell lord.

“If you spill any of your food on me, I will turn you into a piglet,” Harry warned.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Nymphadora huffed. “Can you do that?” she added worriedly.

Harry nodded.

“I can, or I could turn you into a raven. Olin might like that.”

“Harry, stop threatening my daughter,” Andromeda sighed as she placed plates of food on the table. “It’s unbecoming of a lord of your station.”

Nymphadora stuck her tongue out at him mockingly and Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ll grow up one day and mummy won’t be able to protect you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Mum, he’s doing it again,” the little girl whined, shooting him a smug look as Andromeda chastised him once more.

“Well, if Harry can’t act like a civilised person, he will eat in the garden like an animal.”

Nymphadora stuck her tongue out once more and Harry offered her a glare before tucking into his meal.

“Really, Harry?” Narcissa questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You’re going to stoop down to the level of a three-year-old?”

Harry nodded.

“I thought we already established I treat everyone equally,” he replied easily. “If Nymphadora wants to tangle with me, she should expect no mercy.”

“Stupid pony,” the girl mumbled, eliciting a laugh from the others.

“Ahh, you’re lucky I like you,” Harry chuckled, ruffling her hair.

“And Olin likes me,” Nymphadora added.

“And Olin,” Harry agreed.

“So, have you finished all the preparations for the wedding?” Andromeda asked.

Narcissa nodded.

“Just about,” she answered. “We only have to wait for the cake to be delivered the day before and Harry has to move his stuff into the house.”

“I’ve only just seen it,” he defended. “It’s not like I have that much anyway.”

“Something we can do one day during the week then,” Narcissa replied with a smile that brokered no room for compromise.

Harry would be moving his belongings into the house before the wedding.

“If she’s anything like Andi, you’re in for an absolute treat,” Ted broke in with a smirk.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Theodore?” Andromeda questioned lightly causing Ted to stumble on his words.

“N-nothing, dear,” he eventually replied, offering Harry a wink. “Is that contract of yours ironclad?”

“It is,” Harry confirmed. “I already asked, and I am in it for the long haul.”

“Then there’s no escape for you either,” Ted snorted.

“Excuse me?” Andromeda asked. “I think you’ll find the day you got me pregnant with this one, you sealed your fate.”

“I did,” Ted agreed, “and it was the best thing I ever did.”

Andromeda glared at her husband as the ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Shut up, Ted,” she mumbled as the man gave his wife a winning smile.

“Speaking of the wedding,” Narcissa interjected. “I know we haven’t spoken about it, but we would both really like you there.”

Andromeda frowned worriedly.

“All of us?” she asked.

Narcissa nodded.

“Of course, all of you.”

Andromeda looked towards her husband who shrugged uncertainly.

“Cissy, it would only cause problems.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Harry denied. “Everyone has been warned, and if there is even a whiff of unpleasantness, I will deal with it. Personally, I’m hoping Walburga will say something. I’ll happily curse the old bint myself.”

Andromeda snorted.

“You sounded just like my grandfather,” she explained, “but I don’t know. With how they’ll be with Ted and Dora…”

“They will be respectful and civil, or they can leave,” Harry assured her. “Arcturus has agreed that you should be there and even your father didn’t argue. He’s a git, but even he would like you to be there.”

Andromeda nodded thoughtfully.

“What do you think, Dora? Would you like to see you Aunt Cissy get married?”

“Do I have to wear a dress?” the girl asked.

“You will,” Andromeda said firmly. “I will not have you there looking as though you just rolled in off the streets.”

Nymphadora pouted and folded her arms.

“Fine,” she conceded after a moment, “but no flowers.”

“No flowers,” Harry agreed.

With a sigh, Andromeda nodded her agreement, already worried that her family would not keep to their word. They were too hot-headed, but she was hopeful that Harry would keep any in line that may cause problems.

Walburga would likely be the one to do so, and she would enjoy seeing the sow get what’s coming to her, especially after the threats the woman had assured her she would carry out.

If she were to attempt such, there was nothing that would stop Andromeda from dealing with her Aunt.

(Break)

His recovery was taking much longer than he could have anticipated, each passing day going by with little to no improvement in his condition. Even now, more than two months after Peverell’s magic had ripped through him, he was barely able to cast the simplest of spells without pain or fatigue at the very least.

He was, however, slowly but surely regaining his strength. For that, he had Bella to thank.

He had called for her in his time of need and she had come, had fetched and brewed his elixirs and helped to feed him when he did not have the energy to even raise his own hand to do so.

For how unhinged the woman could be, he owed his survival to her.

“You must eat, my lord,” she insisted, offering him a spoonful of the stew she had made him.

The Dark Lord wasn’t hungry today. Most days he struggled to force himself to eat something. It was only the knowledge that the world was slowly forgetting his existence and all his hard working being undone that aided him in stomaching it. Even thoughts of the man responsible for his condition could not do that. For the first time in his life, the Dark Lord was concerned about a foe.

True to the vow he made himself, he had begun learning all he could about the Peverells, what little Bella could scrape together that was. There were rumours, oh so many of them about the mysterious family, but nothing much more than that. When he felt better, he would have to get to the truth of them himself.

For now, he needed to continue healing, his weak magic and body of use for nothing else.

“Your sister is to be married within the week, is she not?” he questioned Bella whose nostrils flared in displeasure.

“She is, my lord,” she confirmed. “If you say the word, I will kill him there and then.”

Voldemort shook his head.

“No, my sweet Bella,” he whispered. “Allow them their moment of happiness. It will only make it all the sweeter when we take it all away.”

Bellatrix pouted unhappily, but she would not defy him.

Were it not for his pride and the need to see an end to Peverell himself, he would perhaps consider using her and some of his followers to carry out the task, but his own stubbornness and ego would not allow it.

It simply needed to be the Dark Lord if he wished to prove those that doubted him that he was the superior wizard, that none could truly defeat him. Only then would they remember why he was to be feared and why they should feel privileged to fall to their knees before him.

His time would come. For as long as it would take to recover, it was that thought that saw him through his days of isolation, through the bouts of pain and weaknesses he felt.

His time would come once more.

(Break)

“I would like to again than Professor Peverell for giving up his Saturday to run a Quidditch workshop with the students,” Dumbledore said, offering a bow to Harry. “If there is nothing else?”

Thankfully, this staff meeting had proven to be brief.

“Just one thing, Headmaster,” Harry replied. “I know that the topic of my current employment has not been discussed, but the end of the year is approaching…”

“And we would be honoured if you would choose to stay on,” Dumbledore cut him off. “Your work has been outstanding, and the students have come to value your expertise.”

Harry had been afraid the man would make such an offer, and it just made it that much more difficult to turn down.

“I have enjoyed my time here with the students and working with each of you. I would be pleased to return, just not for a while yet,” he added.

“Oh,” Dumbledore returned sadly. “Is there nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, I will miss this, truly, but as things are, it is best that I move on. The Dark Lord will return, and my presence here will only put the school and students at risk.”

“I can assure you, Professor Peverell, that there is nowhere safer than Hogwarts,” Minerva broke in.

“And there is no one more dangerous than him,” Harry countered. “If he wanted to get in here, he would. Dumbledore knows it as well as I do. Besides, I have been offered an opportunity that I cannot pass up. It won’t be the same as this, and I have every intention of returning in the future.”

“Might I enquire as to what this opportunity is?” Dumbledore asked curiously.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. It wouldn’t be detrimental to share the news with his staff.

“It can go no further than this room until it is officially announced, but I have received a contract from the Falmouth Falcons to play for them next season. I will be signing it shortly after I return from my honeymoon.”

Dumbledore smiled brightly, clapping enthusiastically along with the other members of staff who offered him their congratulations.

“Then you are leaving us for a worthy opportunity,” Minerva praised, “but I am a Magpies fan, Peverell, and that will not change.”

“Then I apologise in advance for your loss,” Harry offered, provoking a challenging glare from the Deputy-Headmistress.

“We will see,” the woman returned.

“A very well done to you, Harry,” Dumbledore said sincerely, and of course, you will always be welcome here. I will make the announcement at dinner tomorrow evening that you will not be returning in September.”

Harry nodded gratefully.

“Then I suppose I should get to the Quidditch pitch. I imagine the students will be waiting impatiently.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore allowed, “and thank you for the work you have done with them. They will all miss you.”

Harry offered the man a bow and took his leave from the room.

“They won’t take it well,” Minerva warned.

“No, they will not,” Albus sighed. “He is the only one in many years that has not been forced to retire or leave due to unpleasant circumstances. As wary of him I was, employing him here was the best decision I have made in some time, and now I must find another replacement.”

(Break)

“You need to be in tighter to the opposing seeker,” Harry instructed. “If they are bigger than you, sit just behind their shoulder then they can’t push you off course. Now try that and choose your moment to make the grab.”

Regulus nodded and took to the sky once more.

“Have you ever played chaser before?” James asked.

Harry shook his head.

“I haven’t,” he said, surprised to recall that he had barely even held a Quaffle.

“I’ll bet you a galleon you can’t make this shot,” James challenged, picking up a nearby ball and proceeding to put it through the centre hoop from an impressive angle as he kicked off from the ground.

He joined Harry, Sirius, and Remus a moment later with a smug grin plastered across his face and threw the Quaffle to the oldest of the three.

“Alright,” Harry agreed, “but if I make it, you owe me an extra five inches on your last assignment.

“Fine,” James agreed. “Off you go, Peverell.”

Harry followed suit, and though his shot was close, it bounced off the inside of the ring.

“That will be a galleon, Professor,” James reminded him.

“You’ll get it later,” Harry chuckled before blowing his whistle, signalling for the rest of the students to join them.

Almost every one of them had attended in some capacity, most choosing to merely spectate from the stands, but the pitch was full of Quidditch players and the enthusiasts looking to improve their own game.

“Okay, we will finish with a short tournament. I will split you into teams and you will have twenty minutes per game to either catch the snitch or win on points,” he explained. “I will be refereeing and expect fair play from you all.”

The students nodded eagerly, though Harry knew he would be spending the rest of the afternoon intervening in squabbles, especially between the Gryffindor and Slytherin students who had, much to his surprise, chosen to take part.

As the first teams began their match, he couldn’t help but feel a little sad that he would be leaving. He would be following his dreams, but he would miss being at Hogwarts, miss working with the students, and even miss his conversations with the interfering old man that was the Headmaster.

(Break)

Having spent his Sunday moving his belongings into his and Narcissa’s new home, Monday morning arrived, and with it, his final week as a Hogwarts professor. The fifth and seventh years had spent the previous week sitting their OWLs and NEWTs respectively, two weeks later than usual due to the upheaval the incident in Hogsmeade had caused.

Despite this, Harry was confident his students had performed admirably, the weeks leading up to their exams having been spent covering everything and anything that may come up.

There had been tears from more than a few with the odd pupil having to attend the hospital wing for a calming draught. Other than that, there had been no major cases of mental anguish or complete meltdowns. Now the exams had passed, a sense of serenity had fallen over the castle and Harry could enjoy his last days here without worrying so much for the welfare of his older students.

Although the sixth years hadn’t had any the stress of these exams, they filed into the room seemingly unhappy with something, and Harry knew that Dumbledore had announced that he would not be returning in September.

“Why are you leaving, Professor?” Lily asked bluntly, eliciting nods from her classmates, they too wanting an answer to the pertinent question.

Her look of disappointment saddened him more than he thought it would have and Harry deflated slightly. He hadn’t expected his departure would upset them so much, but as he looked at each student in turn, he realised he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Professor Dumbledore asked me to fill in for the rest of they year only,” he explained, “and although he expressed his interest for me to stay on, I have other opportunities that I must explore while I’m still young enough to do so.”

Lily nodded her understanding though her countenance did not shift.

“I may seem like an old man to you all, but I am only twenty-one,” he pointed out. “I am getting married this weekend and would like to start a family. As a Professor, that is not an easy thing to do. I love being here and working with you all, but teaching takes up a considerable amount of time. When you leave this room, I have your work to mark, your next lessons to prepare and many other responsibilities. I will likely return one day but, for now, there are other things for me out there,” he finished, pointing out of the window.

“What are you going to be doing?” a Ravenclaw student asked interestedly.

“That is something that will be announced in the coming weeks,” Harry teased, “but until then, we still have another week of lessons together and I have planned nothing for them. So, what would you like to learn from me?”

The students began shouting out their suggestions and Harry held up his hands to quell them, unable to hear any distinctly above the din.

“Mr Snape, what would you like to learn?” he asked.

The boy looked slightly nervous but steeled himself before replying.

“Do you know how to throw off the Imperius Curse?” he asked.

A slight smirk pulled at the corner of Harry’s mouth as the memory of Barty Crouch Jr teaching his own class just that came to the forefront of his mind.

“I do,” Harry confirmed. “There is no real skill required, just willpower to fight off the effects. Would anyone like to volunteer?”

Snape’s eyes widened.

“Are you allowed to do that?”

Harry nodded.

“In an educational environment, the Imperius Curse is allowed to be cast, the only one of those three spells that can be done so on students for obvious reasons,” he explained. “So, any volunteers?”

Snape nodded warily and stood.

“I’ll do it,” he offered.

“Very well,” Harry agreed, “are you ready?”

After taking a moment to prepare himself, the Slytherin gave a single nod and Harry levelled his wand at him.

“Imperio.”

Unsurprisingly, the boy put up quite a resistance, but he eventually succumbed to the spell and began tap-dancing at Harry’s whim.

The rest of the class began to laugh at his antics and Harry shook his head before giving them a harsh lesson on the effects of the curse.

“Amusing isn’t it?” he asked before commanding Snape to approach the window, open it and climb onto the ledge so that he was looking five floors down at the ground below.

The laughter stopped as the students sobered, realising how dangerous the spell truly was.

“With only a single command, Mr Snape would throw himself out of the window to his death. Do you still find it funny?”

The students shook their heads collectively, evidently concerned and Harry nodded satisfactorily.

“The Imperius Curse is one of the most dangerous spells you could fall victim to. The Killing Curse will end your life in a heartbeat, the Cruciatus will cause you great physical and mental anguish with prolonged use. A caster of the Imperius, however, could have you murder your own parents if that was what they wished. If you cannot fight it off, you can be forced to do unspeakable things to others and even yourself. Now, who would like to go next?” he questioned with a grin as he ended the spell on Snape.

Most others shook their heads in denial, but Lily stood defiantly and invited him to cast the spell on her. Harry did so reluctantly and was surprised by the amount of resistance she offered.

Even with his best efforts, she only partially complied with his wish for her to do a cartwheel and crashed to the floor in a heap, causing Harry to smile proudly.

Perhaps he had inherited his own ability to fight the curse from his mother. She had made just as good a showing against the effects of the curse as he had, unwilling to bend to the commands of another.

“Very good, Miss Evans,” Harry praised. “You almost fought it off entirely. Would you like to try again?”

Lily nodded as she pushed herself to her feet, confused as to how she had ended up on the floor.

After only two more times of being put under the spell, she managed it.

“Take twenty points for Gryffindor,” Harry offered. “It takes a person of a strong mind to do what you just did.”

Lily positively beamed as she retook her seat.

“Anyone else?” Harry asked.

When none volunteered, he nodded his understanding.

“Then we will move one,” he decided. “Miss Evans, since you performed so admirably, is there something you are interested in learning?”

Lily nodded.

“Can you cast the Patronus Charm?” she asked. “During the Hogsmeade attack, there were Dementors, and I think it would be something useful to learn.”

“But the Professor didn’t use the Patronus to repel them,” Selwyn cut in grumpily. “They just ran away from him.”

“That is true,” Harry conceded. “The Dementors have little interest in me because of the nature of my magic, but they will not hesitate to attack you if the opportunity arises. That goes for all of you,” he added. “The Dementors are loyal only to themselves and their own need to consume the souls of their victims. As there is no known way to kill them, the best you can do is repel them and that is done using the Patronus Charm. Does anyone have any experience with it?”

“I know the theory and have tried casting it, but it hasn’t worked very well,” Lily revealed.

“Show me,” Harry instructed curiously.

It took a moment for the girl to centre herself, and when she did cast the spell, a bright shield formed in front of her but it did not coalesce into a corporeal form.

“That is quite the achievement for one your age,” Harry complimented. “Your problem is not with your ability or even the memory you are using, but the effect the memory is having on you. It is not as simple as merely thinking a happy thought. You must immerse yourself into it fully, allow it to wash over you entirely and it must remain a constant throughout your use of the spell. Like so.”

Thinking of the memories pertaining to himself and Narcissa, Harry took a deep breath before pointing his wand.

“Expecto Patronum,” he whispered, nodding appreciatively as a large raven exploded from the tip of his wand, equally relieved and saddened that his stag no longer featured in his use of the spell.

It had been that way shortly after Olin had come into his life, the raven seemingly the more apt creature to him than his father’s animagus form.

The students looked on in awe as the ethereal bird flew around the room, searching for any danger, joined by Olin who took flight from his perch to join his other self.

“DEATH!” he shrieked happily.

After a few moments, Harry ended the spell.

“It is an extraordinarily complex spell that can take years to master, and sadly, some never manage it beyond the level Miss Evans demonstrated. However, I believe it is an appropriate spell for us to finish on, and we will do so for the remaining few lessons we have this week.,” he informed them. “Miss Evans? Would you like to try again?”

“I would,” she agreed. “I think I understand it now.”

Once more, she focused on the task at hand, taking a few moments to ready herself.

“Expecto Patronum,” she said confidently.

Again, her shield formed, brighter than it had been, before it began to shift and Harry recognised the form of a doe taking shape, something that was not missed by the other students.

James, Sirius, Remus and Peter looked on wide-eyed, the Black amongst them nudging the Potter with his elbow giving him a rather knowing grin, and after a further push from the redhead, the creature began prancing around the room.

Lily’s eyes had been closed, but at the collective gasp of her peers, she opened them, seemingly confused by the shape her patronus had taken.

“Excellent work, Miss Evans,” Harry acknowledged, breaking the girl’s concentration so that the patronus faded. “Take another twenty points for Gryffindor and I will be discussing this with Professor Flitwick. He will be astounded with what you have achieved.”

Lily blushed under the praise and took her seat.

Harry knew his mother had been gifted in charms, and what she had just demonstrated proved it. He had mastered the spell younger than she was, but he had been especially motivated to do so.

Lily had never encountered the Dementors, and yet, she had managed to produce a corporeal patronus merely through her talent in the subject.

“That is all we have time for today,” Harry announced, noticing the lesson had indeed come to an end, “but we will revisit this tomorrow. Off you go.”

The class emptied and he watched as the students left, his emotions a mixture between pride and sadness. Teaching was perhaps his future. He had found a love for it over the past months, and it had become as big a passion for him as Quidditch was.

The latter, however, was something that had a limitation on it, and if he ever wished to pursue Quidditch at the highest level, the time to do so was now. Teaching was something he could return to, and feeling how he did in this moment, he had every intention of doing so.

(Break)

For Narcissa, the days leading to the wedding had either dragged painfully in the moments she could not wait to call herself Harry’s wife, or vanished in the blink of an eye when the pre-nuptial jitters kicked in.

What if he changed his mind? What if he realised there were better matches for him out there than the third daughter of a family that would inherit no title?

In those moments, she had shaken her head of those thoughts. Harry had chosen her above all the others he could have. He wanted to marry her, not Cara Rosier or any of the other matches proposed to him.

“You look beautiful, Cissy,” her mother commented, taking in the appearance of her daughter in her dress.

She was crying again, for the third or fourth time already today.

“Thank you,” Narcissa replied warmly, the butterflies she felt whizzing around her stomach. “Is father…?”

She was cut off as the door opened and the man himself entered, pausing and offering her a smile.

“Well, I think it is safe to say that Peverell is punching above his weight. Merlin, let us hope your children take after you.”

Narcissa giggled, appreciating her father lightening the burden with his rare show of humour.

“Harry is a very handsome man, Cygnus,” Druella chided, “though little blonde grandchildren would be nice,” she added.

“Thoughts of grandchildren will have to wait, my dear. It’s time,” Cygnus pointed out, nodding towards the clock on the wall.

Narcissa looped her arm through her father’s offered man and allowed him to lead her from the room she had gotten ready in.

“Have you seen Harry? Is he okay?” she asked.

Cygnus snorted.

“He’s a bloody wreck,” he chuckled. “He can fight Dark Lords and damned near kill himself every week on a broom, but marriage? Not so brave when it comes to that.”

“Neither were you,” Druella interjected, shooting her husband an amused glare. “You had three calming draughts before our wedding.”

“I didn’t know you knew that,” Cygnus grumbled.

Druella hummed at her husband whose ears had turned red.

“And I’ll have you know that Harry is fine,” Druella assured her daughter. “Nervous, but he’s not going anywhere.”

“I’ll curse him into next year if he tried it,” Narcissa warned as they reached the door to the room they were to be married in. “How do I look?”

“You are a Black,” her father answered simply. “You are beautiful and that man in there wouldn’t care if you arrived wearing a sack that had contained dragon dung.”

Narcissa smiled, even if the thought of wearing such a sack did not sit well with her.

“Then we should go in?” she asked.

“Only if you want to,” Cygnus replied with a shrug. “Just say the word and I can get us out of here and you can move to a different country. Your choice.”

“Oh, shut up, Cygnus, of course she’s going in,” Druella huffed, rolling her eyes irritably at her husband who gave his daughter a wink before pushing the door open.

It was strange to think that Narcissa and Harry had kept the guest list reserved only for those they both wanted there with the room being as full as it was.

Of course, the Blacks were in attendance, as was Andromeda, Ted, and Nymphadora who seemed to not be enjoying wearing a dress if the pout adorning her features was anything to go by.

Uncle Evan had come along with Cara. Narcissa had not seen either in some time, but the man gave her a bright smile as she entered, as though no time had passed since he had visited last.

Harry had invited most of the Hogwarts staff, including the headmaster who had chosen to wear robes of maroon. An odd colour for a wedding but Dumbledore was indeed an odd man.

The Potters had also come with both James and Sirius. Amelia and Valerie Bones had opted to sit with them along with Ellie Goldstein.

Narcissa, however, only had eyes for one person who was stood at the front, waiting for her arrival.

Harry looked very dashing in his formal robes, and so vastly different from the night he had woken up in St Mungo’s almost a year ago. Had anyone told her that the scruffy, emaciated man she was caring for would one day become her husband, she would have had them admitted to the Janus Thickey ward. Even if it had been Emilia Camden who was seated to the left of the Potters.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” Harry muttered after her father had placed a kiss on her cheek and handed her off to her soon-to-be husband.

“I did have the chance to run,” Narcissa replied with a smirk, “but it would be such a waste of cake if I did.”

Harry nodded his agreement.

“That would be a shame.”

Any further conversation between the two was ended as the minister presiding over the ceremony cleared his throat.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have gathered today to bear witness to the union between Lord Harry Peverell and Narcissa Black,” he began, his gaze flitting between each of them as he spoke their names, respectively. “Marriage is not something to be entered into lightly and is a bond sealed through love and through magic. Before I proceed, is there any that believe, for any reason, that these two should not be joined in such a way?”

A tense silence fell over the room for a moment, but none spoke, and the minister nodded.

“Then we shall proceed,” he announced. “Please, each of you take the hand of the other and look upon your intended.”

Harry and Narcissa did so, both smiling somewhat nervously.

“Lord Peverell, I will begin with you. You need only repeat after me.”

Harry nodded and took a deep breath.

“I, Lord Harry Peverell, do take Narcissa Black…”

“I, Lord Harry Peverell, do take Narcissa Black,” Harry repeated.

“In strength and in weakness…”

“In strength and in weakness,” Harry parroted.

“Through triumph and hardship…”

“Through triumph and hardship.”

“For the rest of my days and may magic bear witness to my vow.”

“For the rest of my days, and may magic bear witness to my vow,” Harry finished.

The minister waved his wand over their enclosed hands and a golden thread wrapped around them.

They had agreed upon a traditional ceremony, neither comfortable with writing their own vows. In Harry’s own words that Narcissa wholeheartedly related to, ‘I’m not a bloody poet.”

She fought the grin that threatened to form at the memory. In truth, she had been relieved he did not wish for them to speak their own words. It would likely have been a disaster for them both.

“Now, Narcissa, it is your turn. Please repeat after me.”

She did so, and when she had finished speaking, another golden tendril wrapped itself around their clasped hands, this one holding them in place.

“With your vows given and accepted by magic, it is my honour to announce that you are now husband and wife, the Lord and Lady Peverell.”

Those in attendance cheered at the declaration and the golden threads vanished as they sealed it all with a passionate, yet chaste kiss.

She was now Narcissa Peverell, and she could not be happier, nor could she wait to spend the rest of her life with the man she had promised herself to.