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Plan B	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 10292 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and universe belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2
Harry slept very little that night. He was horribly afraid that he'd wake up in the morning to find he had lost everything. When he did sleep, it was of Azkaban that he dreamt, or of living as a Muggle, denied access to all the things he'd grown to know and love. One dream kept him crying in pain as he stumbled about the Muggle world, poor and cut off from everyone. Forced to return to the Dursleys but rejected. Then having to live on the streets as no-one was willing to offer a job to a seventeen year old who had no GCSEs and who couldn't even say what school he'd attended.
In his dream he was just huddling into a cardboard box when a group of men surrounded him and began holding him down to take what they wanted from his unwilling body. His ragged trousers were forced down and his legs forced apart. One began ramming a thick prick into his body while he begged them to stop. He twisted and turned and saw their faces: Kingsley, Ron, and all the dead he carried, all waiting to take their turn raping him. Worse though, even worse than being raped, was seeing the man he wanted sneering down at him and spitting on him, disgust clear upon his pale face. Harry screamed and woke up.
Too afraid to sleep any more, he clutched his knees and tried to calm down, hoping to at least doze. Tears trickled down his cheeks and he had to fight the urge to huddle in a corner and whimper. Finally, at 6am, he gave up on rest and stumbled down to the kitchen. The elf was filling the large kettle and looked at the human in concern.
All of Harry's important belongings were neatly strapped up and waiting for him in the hallway. He had nearly tripped over the Firebolt and felt a terrible pang. It would be useless to him, but he wasn't going to leave behind one of the few things he'd ever had from Sirius. It was also, he thought grimly, a useful emergency item. After all, Firebolts still commanded good money, even second hand. Not that he wanted to sell it, but if it came down to it, he would.
He sat and brooded until the clock struck nine. Then he went to Diagon Alley and withdrew another five thousand from his vault. This morning he dealt with a different goblin who gave him a suspicious look as they travelled along the track to the vaults. The oppression and depression caused by his nightmare wouldn't leave him and he couldn't be bothered trying to make small talk with the creature by his side.
With another five thousand galleons in his bag, he felt some of his fear ease, and the terror of the nightmare at last began to recede.
Once out in the open air, Harry wandered into the estate agents perched on the corner of Diagon and Sinnic Alleys. He had rarely gone into Sinnic Alley as it contained the shops for 'grown ups' – lawyers, estate agents, grocers – all the kinds of things that a child hadn't really needed. Now though, he pushed open a door and headed inside.
Like most magical shops, it was poorly lit and gloomy. A large map of the London wizarding world dominated one wall and Harry gave it his close attention. What he really needed was somewhere right on the fringes so that he could still be part of his world, but also able to escape into Muggle London if he needed to.
“Ah, can I help you?” a soft voice asked, and Harry found himself facing a very effeminate young man who smiled warmly at him. The blue eyes looked at him with frank admiration.
Wondering if this poor bastard had had to toe the Ministry line as well, Harry asked, “A friend is looking for a property on the edge of our world, but still in London. If possible, one with at least three floors.”
“Hmm,” said the young man and moved behind a desk. He began sorting through some folders and Harry couldn't help notice the wedding band that winked on the man's finger. His own stomach clenched; would he have to one day wear a band binding him to someone he didn't love?
“We have two excellent possibilities: Grange Tower or Hill House. Hill House is just into Muggle territory, and has seven floors. Grange Tower is about half a mile into our world and has six. Both are vacant with immediate possession.”
Harry knew nothing about house hunting, but thought it was odd that both houses were empty. “What's happened to the owners?”
“Grange Tower was bought from the Ministry during the reign of the Dark Lord and the wizard who bought it unfortunately died in the war. He had no off spring and didn't leave a will. Hill House has been confiscated by the Ministry.”
“Confiscated? They can sell someone else's house?!” Harry was panicking, thinking about some cheap bastard getting his hands on the Black family house.
“There are different levels: if a house is seized then the Ministry can't sell it. If a house is confiscated, then they can.”
“Say I owned a house and it was seized. What would happen to it after I died?”
The young man turned his intense blue eyes on Harry. Luckily Harry's hair was covering his scar, but this man's interest was still damned unnerving. The smile on his face fascinated and repelled.“Oh, if you left the house to someone in your will, it would go to them, providing the Ministry approved. If you didn't leave a will, the Ministry could apply to convert the seizure to a confiscation and then sell the property.”
His heart pounded in his chest. Harry was really afraid. The more he heard about the Ministry, the more he was sure he'd defeated the wrong enemy.
“Now, would you like to view the two houses?”
The black haired man's stomach churned. There was no way he could live in a house that the Ministry had stolen from some poor person who had refused to follow wizarding traditions. “I don't think I'll bother. How much is Grange Tower?”
The man gaped at him. “You'll buy it without seeing it?”
Harry shrugged. What the place was like inside didn't much matter as he could easily change the décor with a few waves of his wand. So long as it had enough space to rent out, he was happy. Well, happy was a strong word. “There's nothing wrong with it, is there?”
“Oh no. No, the Ministry would never have allowed a property to go on the market that hadn't been checked and found safe.”
“Of course they wouldn't,” the Chosen One muttered, and thought bitterly, All hail the Ministry.
“Grange Tower is seven thousand galleons, which is an absolute bargain. I feel I should tell you that the house is in a rather unsavoury part of the city, and it will need at least the same amount spent on it to have its wards set up properly by a qualified witch or wizard, which is why it is so far below market value. Plus, of course, there are Ministry fees for checking the property is suitable for re-selling.”
“How much in total?”
“Eight thousand, eight hundred.”
“The Ministry charge nearly two thousand galleons?!” Harry yelped.
The agent shook his head. “The Ministry charge a thousand galleons for their work. I am allowed to charge ten percent of the total amount to cover advertising and other overheads.”
“How quickly can the house become mine?” Harry tried not to let his anger take control. It was hardly this man's fault if the situation was spiralling more and more out of control.
The man made no comment that his customer had pretended that the property was for “a friend”. He had heard plenty of nonsense in his time.
“Within the hour,”
Harry sighed, finally something was going right!
“Providing, of course, you have the money or a letter from Gringotts that they are willing to loan you the amount, and proof of your identity too. And,” the man smiled, as though at a joke, “of course, I need to be assured that there is no reason why your friend can't own the house.”
And there it was. There was the snag. Harry couldn't buy the house in his own name, as it would be seized, and he didn't have another identity set up. He reviewed his options – he couldn't ask Arthur Weasley to front the scam, not when he was a Ministry employee. And it wasn't fair to drag Ron or Hermione into this whole fiasco. His nightmare still haunted him – seeing Ron hurting him like that, even if not real, had shaken him and made him scared to approach his friend. He supposed it was partly due to the negative reaction Ron had given when Harry had first announced his sexuality. Harry didn't think he'd ever forget the look of horror and disgust that had twisted Ron's features.
Even Luna or Neville might baulk at being associated with him. Sure, Luna would probably have loved getting involved, but she was engaged now. How would Rolf feel about his fiancé helping out a gay man? His best bet, and it really sickened him to admit it, was to ask the Dursleys. He thought that maybe Dudley would be okay, given that he had started behaving like a decent human being before Harry had left. But there was a clock ticking in the back of his head at all times, making him wonder how much longer he had before 'Harry Potter' had to vanish.
“My friend is a Mug … er Squib,” he lied. “So, could you go to him rather than he come here?”
The look of shock on the man's face said quite clearly that this was a new situation. “Subject to ensuring that the Statute for Secrecy is not broken, well, yes, I suppose.”
“Good.” Harry did some thinking. “Right, give me an hour to run him down and speak to him, then meet me here, please?”
He scribbled 'Mr Dudley Dursley, Privet Drive, Surrey' on a scrap of parchment and handed it to the agent.
Feeling that desperate tinge of urgency once again, Harry apparated near to Privet Drive and walked along to the house he had lived in for so long. It was as he was approaching the front door that the enormity of what he was doing hit him. What the hell was he thinking? Surely there had to be some other option? What about Snape? Surely he'd agree to front the scheme. Harry stopped. Could he go to the older man and explain all of this? Or at least, explain enough that Snape agreed to put the property in his name? Harry didn't think he could. Yes, he'd saved Snape by getting him to the hospital in time, but he hadn't once visited. It would have been too difficult with the memories so fresh in his mind. He ran through the conversation in his mind's eye:
Er, hi, Professor Snape. Due to me being gay and not wanting to marry some witch I need to vanish. You okay with me buying a house in your name so I can still get money from rent? What's that you say? Go to hell and leave you alone?
Yup, that was probably how that conversation would go.
His feet had carried him to the neat garden of number four and he returned to his current predicament. What on earth could he say if his aunt or uncle opened the door? There was no way they'd let him anywhere near their precious son!
“Harry?!” Dudley was snipping away at a hedge and seemed utterly shell-shocked to see his cousin.
“Dudley!” Harry was genuinely pleased to see the older man. He wondered why dear 'Duddykins' was sullying his hands actually helping out, but he imagined that with his presence no longer there, someone had to do all the chores he had always been given.
“Look, Dudley, this is going to sound really odd, and I'm sorry to spring this on you, but I really need your help.”
Dudley picked up the stress and tension in his cousin and nodded. “Go on. I'm not agreeing, but go on.” He put down the shears and gave the younger man his attention.
“Okay.” Harry drew a breath and thought about how he could explain everything. “I've pissed off the Ministry of Magic because they want me to do something I don't think is right. So, because of that, all my stuff is going to be taken. I'll lose my money and my house. I'm planning on buying a new house today but it can't be in my name. If - if I put it in yours, would that be okay?”
Dudley frowned. He didn't speak for a long time. Just as Harry thought he'd have to beg, Dudley spoke. “Are you doing something illegal? Is that why they're taking your stuff?”
“NO! No, I swear I'm not. Honestly, Dudley. I'm in serious shit here. Please!” Sure that his cousin was going to let him suffer, Harry felt tears springing into his eyes. “I'm ...”
The Muggle stared. Harry hadn't cried in public in years that he was aware of. “Shit, Harry, what the hell are they doing to you? I thought you were meant to be their fucking saviour or something. How the hell have you pissed off an entire government?”
Harry swallowed. “It's complicated, Dud, but I promise I haven't done anything wrong. And it won't come back and harm you, or your parents.”
Dudley glanced towards the house. “You know we went into hiding for a year...”
Harry had known, of course, but he had never really considered what that might have been like for the Dursleys. He waited, seeing his cousin still had more to say.
“We were hidden away. It wasn't so bad, not really. The house we were in was nice, and it was great not to be expected to go to college for a whole year. And we were safe. Mum and Dad refused to ever talk about why we were there, about you and what you were risking, but I knew. I knew you were doing something dangerous and stupid and heroic.
“Occasionally, you know, the witches and wizards protecting us would drop in and tell us the latest rumours about you. Mum and Dad weren't interested but I was. Shit, Harry, I heard you escaped a bank on a dragon! For fuck's sake!”
Harry grinned. “That really happened. But most of what you heard probably didn't.” Again his predicament closed around him. “Dudley, I hate to rush you here, but I am kinda on a tight schedule.”
“Are you saving everyone again?”
Thinking that maybe he was saving the wizarding world from doing something they'd regret, and maybe, one day, Harry would be able to change the way he was seen, he nodded.
Speaking slowly, clearly buying himself time, Dudley said, “You know why I changed, right? It was that dementor thing.” He shuddered and then stopped himself, but seeing Harry's matching shudder, he relaxed, aware that his cousin understood. “It showed me things. Showed me all the stuff I'd done to other kids over the years, but instead of showing it from my point of view, I got to feel how all my … victims felt. I saw myself as they all saw me. They all hated and feared me and felt utterly helpless. All except one. You. Yeah, you hated me, and with good reason, but you never feared me, at least, the dementor thing never showed me you feeling scared.” He paused, swallowed, then went on, “I guess I saw what I really was. A bully. And yet, somehow, I'd achieved nothing. The person who shared the same house as me, who I'd bullied every day for years, he didn't even fear me. I'd failed. I was a failure. And I hated myself.” He shrugged. “And, just for a moment, I wished I was you. Even with all the shit I'd put you through, all the stuff Mum and Dad had said; just for a brief second I thought to myself 'I want to be Harry'.”
Dudley scratched a dirt splodged cheek. He gave Harry a piercing look that had an echo of that long ago wish in it. “All right, you can put the house in my name. I guess I'll be you, even if only in a convoluted, made-up way. But you better explain yourself properly some time.”
Weak with relief, the younger man sagged against the bush. “God, Dudley, you're a fucking life saver!” He wiped his forehead. He wanted to address what Dudley had told him, but didn't know how to do so without coming across as condescending or pitying. Instead he settled for nodding briskly. “And I will explain everything, but not right now. Right now there's a guy due here to witness you sign the papers.” He saw Dudley's angry expression and rushed on, “I wasn't sure you'd agree, but I was desperate. I've got less than two days to sort all this out or I'm out on my ear with nothing. And I know, given the love the Ministry feels, they'd want me captured and stuck in prison as soon as possible.”
“You're sure you're not doing something illegal? This sounds like some heavy shit.” The older man seemed to be regretting his decision to help already. Or maybe he was regretting having been so open with another person.
“I know. Sorry. It won't get you in any trouble or danger, I swear. I'll take care of everything and once I'm sorted I'll let you know I'm okay. Just, just trust I know what I'm doing, okay?”
Dudley didn't look too reassured, but he felt that he owed it to his cousin to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. He rubbed his nose and stared at the younger man.
Harry, knowing he could do nothing until the estate agent arrived, jiggled from foot to foot as the minutes ticked slowly by. He tried to start some light conversation with his cousin, but almost everything he tried ended in short sentences and awkward silence. Finally he asked if Dudley was seeing anyone.
“Well, I dunno. There's a girl I like at my college and she seems really cool. But, I'm not sure. What if I ask her out and she says no?”
Feeling hysteria bubble up in him, Harry pushed it down. After all, his own situation wasn't Dudley's problem. He said, “Well, she says no. So what? At least you've asked and won't spend the rest of your life calling yourself a coward. And she might say yes. Isn't it worth the risk?”
He heard a bell like tone from somewhere. His mind resonating with what he was saying. One day, he would have to risk his heart and tell the man he loved how he felt.
“I-I guess.”
At last the pretty young man minced up the street. He had changed into less wizarding clothes and was instead wearing a pale pink shirt, a flowery waistcoat, and pale linen trousers. From Dudley's disgusted expression, Harry knew he'd done the right thing not telling his cousin the reason for the Ministry's hatred.
“Mr Dursley?”
“Yeah.” Dudley's tone was cutting. He was uncomfortable around this fruity-voiced man. He hadn't really thought about the wizarding world much – well, other than to wish occasionally that he had got some magic powers – and he certainly hadn't thought about homosexuals. It seemed, though, that gays existed in the magical world. He wondered why they hadn't just used their magic to make them all disappear. Poof and all the poofs vanished.
The agent held out the paperwork and asked to see proof of identity. The Muggle went into the house and returned with his passport which the wizard inspected, as though unsure of what it was. Throwing a glance at Harry the agent seemed to accept it was a valid document. Finally, after prodding it with his wand, the man handed it back. “And you have the money?” he asked.
“Money?” Dudley threw Harry a nasty look.
“I've got it.” Harry said hurriedly.
With a few more annoying, unnecessary delays, the estate agent witnessed the paper, and took the heavy pouch from Harry. Harry removed one thousand, one hundred and forty-four galleons from it, and plucked out the few sickles left over from paying for the potion ingredients, leaving eight thousand eight hundred to pay for the property. The blue eyed man cast a quick charm to reassure himself that there was no leprechaun gold mingled in with the coins and nodded.
With the heavy pouch weighing him down, the estate agent handed over the paperwork and keys to Dudley and left. Before he did he smiled warmly at both men, and let his gaze linger speculatively on Harry. Blushing a little, the other wizard swallowed and asked, “Don't you have a shop to run?”
“Oh...” the man looked disappointed. He threw a glance at Dudley, coming to his own conclusions and finally went.
Harry let out a huff of air.
Dudley looked at the deeds. “I own a house?” he said, startled. A hungry look came into his eyes as he twirled the new keys on their ring. “Where is it? What's it look like?” His eyes met Harry's and the younger man felt that he had to humour his cousin.
“Erm, Grange Tower. It's right on the edge of magic and muggle land. Erm, it has six floors.”
“Six? What on earth do you need that much space for?”
“I plan to rent it out,” Harry said shortly, aware that Dudley still clung onto the keys. “Er ... thanks, Dudley. Really, you saved my life.” There was a pause, “Could I … could I see your passport? I haven't ever seen one.”
His cousin handed it across and Harry examined it. He, of course, had never been allowed to own such a thing. After all, it was hardly likely that his Aunt and Uncle would have been willing to take him abroad. They had loathed him and complained non-stop about how much he had cost them; there was no way they would have forked over money for him to enjoy himself in foreign climes. He opened the stiff cover and looked at the pale green pages within, each virginally clean of stamps. It seemed that his presence had prevented Dudley from ever experiencing travel. Or maybe, the Durseleys would never have gone on holiday anywhere other than in the UK. Glancing up, he saw Dudley reading the deeds carefully and quickly copied the muggle document. Now he had some identification of his own. “Thanks. You planning on learning to drive now you're back home?”
“Not yet. Mum's not too thrilled at the idea of me driving; says it's too dangerous out there.”
Harry's lips quirked, imagining his aunt's feelings about her precious offspring surrounded by all the lunatics they'd seen over the years. “She might have a point. Can I have the parchment?” He didn't ask for the keys, hoping Dudley would get the message without needing to receive a hint.
Reluctantly, the older man handed over the items. His gaze lingered on the parchment that documented his ownership of the property. “Don't fuck up, Potter,” he growled, “that's my name on that.”
“I won't,” Harry promised, devoutly wishing it would be true, “I won't.”
***
Thunderbird - congratulations on being the first reviewer. And yes, it should make you seethe. Believe me, there is more seething to come. In Kingsley's defence, he is trying to deal with all the problem at the MoM (just imagine what those are like in this reality!) and not do anything too out there, as he is still only acting Minister for Magic. As for the ending, I couldn't sleep one night this week and wrote out a rough draft. Just need to type it up and add in the missing scenes.
Oh, and off topic, I recently got sorted (in Ilvermorny) into Horned Serpent. Isn't that kind of like the Ravenclaw one? I'm a SLYTHERIN!
Book_addict_89 - You always ask the right questions. Yes, there is a dept for sex workers. We will see it in a later chapter. And of course Plan A won't work; look at the title!
And yay for promising to post things.
***
Want to be notified when I update? Want to rant that you hate this version of reality? affsickpuppy@yahoo.com
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Plan B