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Patria Potestas: Blood Ties	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Sirius Views: 17607 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: As the title suggests, this chapter will contain a lot of time jumps. I felt that drawing it out would make the story drag, so I hope no one finds this format too jarring. Please note that there is a sad scene in this chapter that might make you cry. I promise nothing bad happens to our two lovebirds, but I got really choked up while writing this particular scene, so you may not want to read the first 'April' segment in public.
Chapter Ten – Countdown

24^th November, 2004

Harry twirled the fork between his fingers as he stared into space. He heaved a sigh, and was drawn out of his painfully bored daze quite suddenly by Hermione's irritated voice.

“Harry, are you even listening?”

“What?” Harry turned back to the others, and flushed at the three sets of eyes boring into him. Their empty lunch plates had all been pushed to one side, and a stack of wizarding magazines rested in the centre of the table, all earmarked for the furnishings they planned to order for their new house. Harry hadn't quite realized how much planning (and gold) it took to furnish a house. Though Sirius and Hermione seemed to enjoy the process of decorating the new place, Harry found himself incredibly, painfully bored, and found himself carrying the same attention span for the activity that he would for a History of Magic lesson.

“I know this isn't exactly the most thrilling activity for you, could you try and pay attention?” she sniped, “you're not going to be happy if you move in to your new place and all that's there is that rickety old rocking chair—”

“I know, I know, stop nagging,” Harry grumbled and shifted his focus back to the current magazine spread open on the table, which showed a number of glossy photographs of different kinds of beds. Harry squirmed uncomfortably at the sight of it, his mind immediately jumping to what would happen in whichever one they chose in just a few short months. Sirius seemed to sense his unease, and dropped one hand to cover Harry's, offering it a small squeeze. Harry turned his hand under Sirius's so that they could clasp together, and he returned the gesture. He planted his elbow on the table and cradled his chin against the heel of his opposite hand, and listened to Hermione and Sirius debate, while Andromeda threw in the occasional word here and there, and Harry gazed on vacantly. Thankfully beyond an occasional shrug, he wasn't asked for his input. It wasn't like he knew what chair looked best with which rug, anyway.

9^th December, 2004

“So, what do you want for Christmas?” Sirius asked conversationally, his tone teasing as they strolled along the Thames with Hermione and Andromeda not far behind. It was so common for them to be there at that point that Harry hardly paid their presence any mind.

“Nothing,” Harry answered at once, and laughed at the dubious look on Sirius's face. “No, I mean it. You've done enough this year—you've given enough. Plus, it's not like I need anything.”

“Okay then,” Sirius replied, still regarding Harry with a look of disbelief, and Harry had a feeling that no matter his protests, he would still wake Christmas morning with something from Sirius under the tree. The older man shifted topics as they walked, unfortunately to one that Harry really wasn't keen on discussing.

“In the new year, I was thinking we might want to start preparing ourselves for the consummation of the marriage,” Sirius said, and Harry tensed.

“But—but I thought we were supposed to be celibate until...then?” Harry smiled apologetically, unable to form the words, 'until our wedding'. Even after everything that had happened, it was still a bizarre concept to him. Sirius nodded once, but Harry felt his stomach twist guiltily at the faint look of hurt that he saw in Sirius's eye.

“We are,” he replied with a short nod, “but within the parameters of what we are allowed to do, I thought it might be a good idea to get used to being close to each other, so that it's not too awkward.” Sirius paused, but likely Harry's unease showed plainly on his face, as he suddenly added quickly, “we don't have to if you feel you're not ready, but...it was just a thought.”

“Well, what do you call this?” Harry asked, the faintest of grins tugging at the corners of his mouth while he motioned to their joined hands. Sirius offered Harry a wry smile.

“You know what I mean, Harry.”

25^th December, 2004

Harry tumbled out of the Burrow's fireplace, and found himself almost immediately swept into an embrace from Sirius. His head still spinning a little, it was made worse when Sirius drew him into a kiss pulling him so close that he could feel every line of the older man's body through his new, expensive jumper that he was wearing.

“I thought I told you not to get me anything?” Harry queried as Sirius took his hand and led him from the kitchen and to the sitting room. Harry sat next to Hermione, and Sirius rested on his other side, and pressed a glass of wine into Harry's hand before he answered.

“It's Christmas, Harry,” he said simply. “As I recall, it's customary to shower your loved ones with gifts at this time of year, so one gift from me isn't going to kill you.” He leant in a brushed a kiss against Harry's temple, and ran a hand up his arm at the same time as he added in a whisper, “besides, it looks good on you.”

Harry felt himself flush a faint pink, but he was barred from answering as his godson barrelled into the sitting room, and groaned a little as Teddy clambered into his lap. His face still flushed from the howling wind outside, and in his hands he held a small, cylindrical parcel wrapped in bright purple paper.

“Happy Christmas, Uncle Harry!” he said, grinning from ear to ear as Harry laughed and set down his glass of wine to keep from spilling it on the overexcited youngster.

“Happy Christmas, Teddy,” he replied, “you needed to sit on me to say that?”

“No, but I'm cold and you're warm,” he said simply, and Sirius snorted into finger of whisky. His eyes showed the shift in his expression from happy to nervous, and he pressed the gift into Harry's hands, which was so light that Harry thought it might be empty. “I made this for you.”

Curiosity piqued, and hyper-aware of how nervous Teddy seemed to be about it, Harry carefully unwrapped the gift to find a simple scroll of parchment. When he unrolled it, he found himself looking at a wax pastel drawing of three adults and one child standing before a little house surrounded by a sea of green and brown.

“That's me,” Teddy proclaimed, pointing to the purple-haired child, “and that's you,” he pointed to a figure dressed in green and black, with a red smudge near the top of its head that had to be a rendering of his scar, though it was barely visible under the owlishly huge round glasses Teddy had drawn, then moved to the last two figures, one of which was a man with long hair, and the other an older woman. “And that's Gran and Uncle Sirius, and we're all at your new house.”

“How did you know what our new house looks like?” Harry asked with a note of amusement in his voice as he regarded the picture, his heart swelling a little at the sight of it.

“Gran showed me pishers,” Teddy explained proudly, “Gran also said you're s'posed to name your drawings, so it's called My Family.”

At this, Harry's throat grew tight, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Sirius freeze with his glass halfway to his mouth. On his other side, he could see both Hermione and Ron's eyes had gotten a little glassy following the little boy's proclamation. The sentiment of being part of a family, a real family, and not just unceremoniously adopted, like he had been with the Weasleys was something he had—and Harry hadn't even known it. Almost too late he realized that he had been staring at Teddy in open-mouthed shock, drawn less from the picture itself, and more from the implication behind it. Harry quickly drew the little boy into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Teddy,” Harry whispered into his hair, “it's perfect.”

Even without looking, Harry could feel Sirius smiling at him.

11^th January, 2005

Harry stared at his fire grate, rocking on his heels, regarding it as though it had teeth.

You agreed with Sirius that getting comfortable together was a good idea, Harry reminded himself as he stood there, and if you back out it's not like he'd be that upset...

The thoughts warred in his mind, caught between both his desire to do it and not do it. He knew they couldn't really do anything that would even resemble something sexual, but the knowledge of what today would inevitably lead to brought a flush unbidden to Harry's face. He shook his head in an effort to calm himself back down, and took a slow breath to steel himself as he he threw a handful of glittering powder into the grate, and jumped into the emerald flames before he could change his mind.

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy's voice trilled the second Harry tumbled out of the grate, still too disoriented to greet his godson properly.

“Hang on Ted,” Harry heard Sirius say, “let him get his bearings first.”

Harry straightened up and wiped the soot off his glasses with the hem of his jumper, then roughly brushed himself off before he turned to grin at Teddy. The boy's face broke out into a huge smile as he ran at Harry and jumped up for a hug.

“Oof, Teddy,” Harry grunted as he hefted him up with a little difficulty, “you're getting big!”

“Soon I'll be as big as you!” Teddy proclaimed with a grin as Harry set him down, then the boy grabbed his hand in between both of his. “Come on, I want you to make my toys dance!”

“Teddy...” Andromeda's warning tone stopped the tyke short, and he whipped around to look at his grandmother, who was watching the pair from the sitting room entryway with her arms crossed. “I told you that Harry and Sirius have things to talk about, he can't play with you today.”

“Oh, please, Gran?” Teddy whined, “just one long five minutes!”

“No,” Andromeda said firmly. “Victoire will be here soon and you can play with her. Now, let Harry go so that he and Sirius can—” she broke off when Harry flushed a deep scarlet, and pressed her lips into a thin line, though he couldn't tell if she was irritated or amused by his reaction. Teddy, on the other hand, looked as though Andromeda had told him that his birthday had been cancelled. Harry knew by now that though Teddy was usually fairly well-behaved, he was also known for his epic temper tantrums, and sensing danger, Harry crouched down and gave Teddy a quick hug.

“I'll come play with you after Sirius and I are finished, all right? I promise,” he whispered, and the anguish upon the little boy's face dimmed a little, though he still looked disappointed.

“Okay,” he mumbled glumly, and shuffled away as though he'd been scolded.

Harry straightened up as Andromeda led Teddy down the hall to his playroom, his little violet head bowed forward slightly. The sight of it tugged at Harry's heartstrings, and he was so caught up in his guilt over having to turn Teddy away that he did not notice Sirius approach, and therefore nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand suddenly press against his back.

“Did I scare you?” Sirius asked softly, a trace of alarm in his eyes as Harry looked up at him.

“No, no, it's all right,” Harry replied at once with a short shake of his head, “you just startled me a little.” Harry looked away from Sirius and over to the settee, a teapot and two cups set upon on the coffee table in front of it, and once more he remembered why he was here in the first place. He felt himself flush again, and the hand on his back tensed a little.

“You know, Harry, if you don't want to do this, just say so,” Sirius said, clearly sensing Harry's unease, “we still have four months before we need to worry about—”

“—no,” Harry said quickly, cutting him off. “I want to—er, I mean, it's a good idea. I'm nervous enough about that as it is, and getting more comfortable together is a...good idea.” He felt himself flush yet again at his awkward phrasing, and Sirius's hand settled on his hip, a faint, hopeful smile playing across his lips as he began to steer Harry towards the settee.

“Come on, just breathe,” Sirius said gently, the hand at his hip squeezing in gentle reassurance. “Andromeda will be here too, so even if I was less of a gentleman, she'd be nearby to stop me.” Sirius's mouth twitched into a small grin, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at the older man's easy self-confidence, though there was still a nervous edge to his tone. Sirius did not seem personally offended by Harry's attitude, for which he was grateful. Harry was beginning to feel that he had done enough damage in his resistance of everything, and going forward, he didn't want Sirius to feel as though Harry was completely disgusted at the idea of being with him. He wasn't.

At least, not anymore.

Sirius led Harry over to the settee in silence and gently eased him down onto it. He sat down close enough to him that Harry could feel his body heat, though he wasn't physically touching him—yet.

Sirius leant forward to pour the tea, then proceeded to prepare Harry's how he liked it—with an obscene amount of sugar and milk. Harry tried not to laugh at the look of absolute disgust upon Sirius's face as he went to the task, as though he was personally defiling a priceless artifact of some kind. He pressed the teacup into Harry's hands, allowing his fingers to linger just long enough for Harry to shiver a little at the contact.

“Remember, Harry,” Sirius said softly, “we still can't do anything...erm, really intimate at this stage, so just relax.” As he spoke, he began to trail his hand up and down Harry's spine, and shifted a little closer as Harry sipped the drink he'd been handed. He was still balanced precariously between nervous and terrified, but the application of the soothing drink, Sirius's soft, reassuring voice, and the hand at his back were all helping to slowly relax him.

“Whatever happens,” Sirius continued, his voice little more than a soft purr as his hand slid up Harry's spine to squeeze his shoulder, “you don't need to be afraid, Harry. I would never hurt you.”

Sirius's hands on him caused a tremor to run through him, and Harry downed the rest of the tea too quickly, causing his throat to burn a little from the temperature, and he began to cough. A warm flush crept up his neck as he heard Sirius's throaty chuckle, but when he turned his head to respond to him, he found his lips caught in a tender kiss.

Harry was a little startled by the suddenness of it, and he felt the empty china cup being pried from his hand as Sirius shifted closer, one hand cradling his cheek as their outer thighs pressed together, and Harry felt a small thrill rush through him of both desire and fear.

“See?” Sirius murmured, his voice more than a little husky as he pulled back, something close to his old self-confidence shining through as he grinned at Harry, “we'll be fine.”

27^th January, 2005

When Sirius had suggested to Harry that they 'get used to being close to one another', his imagination had run wild with that vague proposition. His thoughts conjured up all manner of deeply sexual encounters that both unnerved and piqued his interest in equal measure.

It didn't matter that Harry logically knew that they weren't allowed to do anything sexual until their marriage, the suggestion had still managed to send Harry into a panicked frenzy. Because of this, whenever he and Sirius got together (with their chaperones not far behind) Harry never knew what to expect—but always wound up pleasantly surprised.

A kiss here, an embrace there, and Harry found himself beginning to dread the consummation less and less. The strangeness of the entire thing never went away, not completely, but it was slowly becoming easier to not obsessively dwell on their past relationship, and focus simply on the future.

“What are you thinking about?”

Sirius's voice pulled Harry from his thoughts, and his eyes fell to their joined hands. Harry smiled at the pleasant shiver that ran through him as Sirius brushed his thumb along the back of the appendage, a small show of gentle affection that even a few weeks ago would have sent Harry spiralling into a panic.

“Mostly just how mad the last few months have been,” Harry replied simply, “a lot has changed.”

At his words, Sirius laughed and looked away from him to the scenery of their 'date'. They had returned to the Botanical Gardens, and were sitting near to the café at the back, with a shared slice of unfinished raspberry cheesecake sat between them. Their forks had been discarded haphazardly, and their empty paper teacups were stacked just behind the plate.

“Yeah, that's an understatement,” Sirius replied, still chuckling to himself. “Are you still nervous about...everything?”

Harry knew that he meant the consummation, and given all Sirius had done, not just in the last few weeks, but overall, Harry felt that it might be in bad taste to admit that he was still very nervous about it. His eyes dropped from Sirius to the ring on his finger. He twirled it absentmindedly as he thought over how to best answer the question.

“A little. I mean, it's not going to be just...you know,” Harry felt himself flush a little, and he struggled to appear nonchalant as he spoke, despite the twisting nervousness in the pit of his stomach. “It'll also be my first time with a bloke and...I heard it can hurt.” Harry winced when his voice dropped to a nervous whisper, and Sirius's hand tensed in his.

“Harry, why didn't you tell me that you were a virgin?” Sirius asked in a harsh whisper. Harry's gaze snapped up in alarm to find Sirius staring at him in open-mouthed horror.

“What does it matter?” Harry asked, pleased that he'd managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “I mean, I'm not a virgin-virgin, I've just...never done it with a man.” Harry felt his face flush a deeper shade of crimson as Sirius gazed at him with concern.

“I don't think any less of you for that, if that's what you're worried about,” Sirius began slowly, “I just hate that I'll be the only man you'll ever experience it with. Someone your age should be out experimenting, fooling around, and instead—”

Harry silenced the older man with a kiss. Harry saw Sirius's eyes widen in surprise, then he relax almost at once as he settled into it. When they broke apart Harry stared up at him, a hand reaching up tentatively at first, then when it seemed as though Sirius wasn't going to pull away, Harry lightly brushed his fingers across the edge of his strong jaw. The tickling stubble over the pads of his fingers sent a thrill through him that Harry was certain was not nervousness.

“There's no point in obsessing over it,” Harry said firmly, but softly. “I've spent weeks and weeks agonizing over this, and I don't want you feeling guilty just because I didn't get a chance to lose my virginity before all this started.” Harry paused as he dropped his hand to his lap as he gazed at Sirius, a tendril of nervousness flaring in the pit of his stomach, but he forced himself to continue. “I trust you, Sirius. I'm nervous as hell, but...I trust you.”

Sirius did not seem to know what to say in response, and simply wrapped an arm around Harry, and Harry, in turn, leant into the embrace.

12^th February, 2005

“So, I've been wondering...” Harry began as he toyed with the neck of his butterbeer bottle absentmindedly as he gazed across the table at Sirius. He struggled to ignore the blatant stares of the various Diagon Alley shoppers gave them as they passed through the pub and to the Alley beyond.

“Hm?”

“Well, we're getting m-married in two months, but we haven't done anything to prepare for it,” Harry said softly, despite his embarrassed flush that was creeping up his neck. However, he was more interested in not being overheard more than any shame he may have once carried at the reference to his impending nuptials.

“These kinds of marriages are quite small,” Sirius explained in the same soft tone. He took a sip of his own drink before he continued, clearly conscious of Harry's desire to not be overheard. “Usually it's the parents, chaperones, ministry official, and priest or marriage officiate. These weddings...they were more like business transactions than anything else, so they were never the large, lavish celebrations they are now. I assumed you didn't want to draw a lot of attention to our...erm, union, so I thought you would want it to be small. Did you want a large wedding, Harry?”

“No, no, that's not it,” Harry said quickly, his stomach giving a funny, uneasy jolt at the idea of a huge, lavish wedding like Bill and Fleur's had been. “I was just curious, that's all.”

Sirius nodded once, and under the table he rested his free hand against Harry's knee. He recognized it at once as a show of support and not a sexual advance, and where once it would have deeply unnerved him, now Harry felt calmed by the touch. He smiled at the older man, and Sirius's expression brightened as he returned it.

1^st March, 2005

Harry lounged on his sofa, toying with his engagement ring absentmindedly. He was glad that he'd chosen to cancel with Sirius today on the grounds that he was ill—properly ill, not ill from some magic relating to their upcoming wedding—and it was only after he'd spent the morning bowed over his toilet that he realized that he wasn't ill.

He was anxious.

It had been a very long time since he'd been sick out of fear like that, and Harry felt a creeping shame engulf him at that realization. No matter how hard he had tried, the idea of having to tie himself to his godfather for the rest of his life still terrified him.

I have five weeks to come to grips with it, and I still don't know if I can actually do this...Harry sipped his ginger tea as he thought, bundled up in a blanket to stave off the damp cold that had crept into his flat despite the so-called magical insulation that should have kept the space comfortable and warm.

As he sat there, the fire built up high in the grate, the rush of sleet just outside his window, Harry's mind played over everything that had happened over the last few months. He realized quite suddenly that from the moment this had all started, Sirius hadn't once told Harry what he wanted. It had all been about Harry.

Harry didn't like the sound of that, even if it was in his own head.

I know Sirius cares for me, Harry thought, maybe even loves me, but can I be enough for him? Will he actually be happy with me?

Harry sipped his tea, and no answer to his unspoken question came to him as the sleet continued to fall.

17^th March, 2005

“So, three weeks left,” Sirius said conversationally as he eased back, his gaze focused not on Harry, but on the rolling waves along the edge of the beach. Harry could hear a note of nervousness in his voice, and strangely, it was a soothing thing to hear. “Nervous?”

“Terrified,” Harry replied at once, and Sirius snorted a little. He reached down and slid his hand over Harry's. It was a warm anchor that both comforted and unnerved Harry at once, but he was growing used to feeling both conflicting feelings simultaneously. The contact soothed his nerves like a cooling salve on a burn, and he turned his hand over so that they could lace their fingers together.

“We'll make it work, Harry,” Sirius said softly, and shifted close enough to him to brush a kiss against Harry's temple. “I know I've said that at least a hundred times, but...I want you to know that I mean it.”

“I know that you do,” Harry replied, and leant in to relax against Sirius's shoulder. Immediately, he pulled his hand from Harry's to wrap his arm around him. Sirius pulled him a little closer as Harry continued, “it's still...I wish I could shake this weirdness, you know?”

“Maybe this will help,” Sirius murmured, and lifted his opposite hand to Harry's cheek to slowly coax his head to turn and face the older man. Harry was about to ask what he was doing, when Sirius leant in and kissed him.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, moreso when the kiss did not end as a simple peck like so many of their others had. Sirius shifted closer still, the quilt they sat upon bunching up between them, and his older, more experienced tongue darted out to brush lightly against Harry's bottom lip. Harry's breath hitched, and he reached out to tangle his fingers in the fabric of Sirius's jacket, uncertain whether he wanted to push him away or draw him closer.

Sirius reached up and carded his fingers through Harry's hair, then wrapped the same hand around the back of his neck, drawing out the kiss as Harry slowly and uncertainly parted his lips.

Sirius immediately took advantage of the small action, and his tongue brushed along Harry's, tasting and encouraging him in equal measure. Harry whimpered a little, lost in the sensation, and unconsciously he shifted a little closer.

A pointed cough sounded from a few feet to the left of them, and they reluctantly parted and both offered Andromeda an apologetic smile. Hermione, meanwhile, was looking at the circling gulls above them, her face very pink, but a pleased sort of smile on her face at the same time.

Sirius drew Harry's attention back to him, and Harry grinned bashfully at him while he shifted his position a little to hide how Sirius's kiss had affected him. The older man wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and squeezed him lightly. Harry leant into the contact and closed his eyes.

If he keeps kissing me like that, Harry thought, I'll definitely be ready in time for the consummation.

1^st April, 2005

Harry couldn't work out whether or not he was happy that it was the first of April.

On the one hand, he was finally able to focus on something that didn't involve the courtship, but on the other, he hated that it was in memoriam of a dear friend—brother, really—that had drawn him out of his bubble that he'd been in with Sirius for the last several months.

The small Ottery St. Catchpole wizarding cemetery contained far too many grave markers of people Harry knew, as far as he was concerned. He bypassed the Cedric's gravestone, past Luna's mother, and stopped before a particular grave, its marker utterly obscured by wreaths and bouquets of flowers, of gifts of fake wands and Skiving Snackboxes, and sitting next to the gravestone sat one solitary ginger twenty-eight-year-old.

“Hey, George.”

George hadn't been paying attention, and when he looked up his eyes were shining, and he smiled weakly at Harry in welcome.

Harry set down the bouquet of sweet pea flowers that he'd brought, and sat next to his friend. He didn't say a word, and simply sat with him. There was nothing to say—nothing Harry could say. In the seven years since the war, George had vehemently refused to celebrate his birthday without Fred, and instead the family had taken to bringing gifts and offerings to Fred's grave, while George held a silent vigil with his brother.

Harry knew that Molly had tried more than once to get George to move forward—certainly Fred would not want his brother to mourn him so deeply. But Fred and George had been two halves of a whole, and Harry could guess that in many ways, it felt to George like was missing half of himself. Because of this, Harry didn't blame George in the least for not wanting to celebrate his birthday without his brother.

Harry did not know how long he sat there keeping George company, not even paying attention to the progression of the sun across the sky. When it had begun to dip towards the west, Sirius arrived with Andromeda to offer their own gifts—a trick wand from Sirius, and a wreath of white roses from Andromeda. George nodded his thanks to each of them, but his voice still seemed to be eluding him.

Sirius took Harry's hand as he sat down next to him on the ground, while Andromeda stood back and watched the silent vigil. It was only at dusk did Harry reach out and give George's shoulder a small squeeze before he took his leave, hand in hand with Sirius.

7^th April, 2005

Harry stared at his bare flat, empty save for his old Hogwarts trunk and the furniture he was leaving behind. Everything else had been moved to the new house, and the empty flat was yet another reminder that in less than twenty-four hours, he would be married.

To his godfather.

Even after so long, and how far they had come, the tiny voice in the back of his mind reminding him of his past relationship with the older man stubbornly refused to fade.

Harry plucked an éclair out of the bag he'd bought from the nearby bakery, and crammed the whole thing into his mouth.

“Wow, usually it takes years of practice to develop technique like that.”

“Shut up, 'er-my-knee,” Harry said thickly around the pastry, and she smiled at him, the corner of her mouth twitching as though she was just barely managing to stifle a grin. She closed the front door behind her, and handed him one of the packages she had been holding. “Your robes for tomorrow.”

Harry accepted the package and tore open the paper to find a set of white robes with silver piping, and like those he had worn for the Rite of Acceptance, this set also carried silver, ivy-like detailing on the cuffs and the collar. Harry felt his throat tighten at the sight of them, and a fresh wave of nervousness overwhelmed him as he gazed down at the articles of clothing. Not keen for his fear to show in front of Hermione and earn him another lecture, he dropped the robes and forced his gaze to his empty fire grate.

“So, I was thinking,” Hermione continued, her tone forced and light, as though she was pretending it was any other day, instead of the day before his wedding. “Well, a stag night isn't really a thing for these courtships, but why not you, me, and Ron go down to Hogsmeade for the day, and have dinner at the Three Broomsticks? It'll just be us—like old times.”

Harry shifted his gaze to his friend, whose expression seemed to be teetering between apprehensive and hopeful. He didn't answer straightaway, but mulled the idea over in his head. The last thing Harry wanted to do is go out and pretend like everything was normal—because it wasn't. He also wasn't exactly keen on how much of a last night on earth feel it had.

But by the same token, if he refused, he'd be sitting alone, in his empty flat, waiting for tomorrow to come.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said at last, and Hermione's expression, which had dimmed to an uncertain frown, brightened at once.

~*~

The pair Apparated to Hogsmeade and met Ron just outside of Honeydukes. The ginger grinned from ear to ear when he caught sight of them, and after he offered Hermione a quick kiss in greeting, he clapped Harry hard on the shoulder, nearly hard enough to make his knees buckle.

“All right?”

“Brilliant,” Harry replied with a note of sarcasm in his voice, and the trio laughed.

“C'mon, some sweets and Zonko's products are exactly what you need,” Ron said, and without another word he steered Harry into the shop.

In spite of Harry's reservations, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun.

They loaded their pockets with Honeydukes sweets(Ron and Hermione both insisting on treating Harry, completely ignoring his protests that they didn't need to do such a thing), and they wandered out to the Shrieking Shack, which turned out to be a bit of a bad idea, as it only helped to recall the horrors they'd seen during the war, and remember the tragic end of so many friends and loved ones. They were quick to wander back into town, and the remainder of their day was far more amicable, ending with a sumptuous meal at the Three Broomsticks, with huge tankards of butterbeer in front of them.

“Well, I'd definitely take this over a stag night any day,” Harry remarked with a grin, then crammed a hunk of steak into his mouth.

“Easier and cheaper to organize, that's for sure,” Ron replied with a grin, “hey Hermione, when we get married, maybe we should do a courtship!”

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, no. This whole thing has been so stressful, I'd be much happier if we just eloped,” Hermione answered at once with a short laugh.

“My mum would kill me if we did that,” Ron said, “she's obsessed with huge weddings. I'd never hear the end of it if we did that.”

“You two are mad,” Harry interrupted, and grinned a little when the pair turned to him, almost as though they'd briefly forgotten that Harry was there. “All this marriage stuff is mental. Just...move in together. Live in sin, I think is the expression.”

The comment made Hermione laugh loudly, while Ron merely looked perplexed. Harry turned his focus back to his half-finished meal while Hermione explained the term to him, and shockingly, Harry found himself smiling. The last few months had been mental—beyond mental, but despite how nervous he was for tomorrow, the support of his two best friends made everything a hundred times easier.

Harry knew in that moment that after all this time, he had been wrong.

With the support of his two best friends and his family behind him, he could, in fact, get through this.
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Patria Potestas: Blood Ties