[From Litha to Lammas]: Covet, Harry/lots of people, R, 1/4
Title: Covet
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Harry/Theodore, Harry/Blaise, Harry/Draco/Astoria, Draco/Astoria, Harry/Zacharias, Harry/Luna
Content Notes: Humor, not epilogue-compliant, polyamory, harem fic, magically powerful Harry, screwed-up wizarding law, angst, brief violence
Rating: R
Wordcount: This part 5900
Summary: It turns out that, when various people begin asking Harry for legal and magical shelter, he has the power to marry them all as per an ancient Ministry law that says the conqueror of a Dark Lord can have multiple spouses. Harry knows the marriages are in name only, and it’s not like they require sex, just a magical oath. He thinks he’s doing very well at resisting temptation, not realizing what a temptation he is himself.
Author’s Notes: This is one of my “From Litha to Lammas” fics being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August this year. As you can see from the summary, this fic is not meant to be taken entirely seriously. It should have four parts.
Covet
“And I, Harry Potter, take you, Theodore Nott, as my lawfully joined husband for a year and a day. I promise to shelter you, to stand by your side, to offer you food and water as you need it, to share magic with you, to offer you the comfort of my shadow and my wand arm.”
Harry paused to take a breath. He knew that he’d gabbled the magical promise more than just said it, but he’d been so afraid that he’d forget it, he’d thought it best to rush through.
Besides, if the magic unfolding from the end of his wand was any sign, he’d done it correctly. The glittering green and golden ribbons danced in the air, then settled like a cloak around Theodore Nott’s shoulders as he knelt before Harry. They were outside, doing this at noon in the shadow of an oak on the property Harry had bought after the war, as per tradition.
Nott was looking up at Harry with complete trust as he finished the vow. When the ribbons settled, he crossed his arms in front of himself and bowed his head a little. His dark hair slumped across his face, much the way his shoulders had slumped when he first came to Harry’s house and asked Harry to invoke a marriage custom that hadn’t been used in almost four hundred years.
But his voice was strong and steady as he said, “And I, Theodore Nott, take you, Harry Potter, as my lawfully joined husband for a year and a day. I promise to trust you, to stand by your side, to accept food and water and shelter from your hand, to share magic with you, to offer you the comfort of my support and my body.”
Harry flushed when he heard the last promise, and he shook away visions that had no right to dance in his head. Nott had to promise that because that was what the words of the oath said, but-they wouldn’t be sleeping together. Not really. This old custom didn’t require consummation. It had been used in lots of circumstances where one of the partners was too young or too old or the wrong gender for someone’s preference. It was meant as a protection from an unreasonable family member or untenable legal situation, and “the comfort of my body” could just mean fighting side-by-side, or the occasional hug.
Nott had reassured Harry of that again and again before Harry had been comfortable agreeing to the marriage. He would never want to sleep with someone less than fully willing.
Nott’s deep grey eyes glowed as he extended his hands, standing. Harry ringed them with more green and golden ribbons that simply sprouted from his wand without having to be called, and then coughed. Nott smiled.
“I believe the marriage is nearly complete,” said Hermione, the one witness they had to have as per the law. “You may-seal it.”
Harry heard the uncertainty in her voice, and sighed to himself. Hermione hadn’t approved of this at all, but she had to admit that there didn’t seem another solution likely to protect Nott from his Death Eater father. Per Nott family custom and no law actually prohibiting it, Belisarius Nott had the right to drag his son back home and lock him up in a room until he was twenty-five. From the way Theodore had described it, his father would kill him long before then.
And that made Harry ache with far more anger than the thought of marrying Theodore Nott did.
Nott was already moving forwards, his face set in a smile that Harry knew hid so much. Harry leaned in to meet him, one hand rising to gently cup his face as he kissed him.
He felt the marriage shudder and settle deep in his chest in a flowing wave of golden magic the minute their lips touched. Harry relaxed. Good, he wouldn’t have to subject Nott to a deep snog or-
Nott’s mouth opened. Harry gasped, and found their tongues touching without him being aware of how it had happened. He swallowed, let the kiss linger a moment to show Nott that he wasn’t rejecting him, and then moved backwards, clearing his throat a little.
“This is my husband,” he said to Hermione, making the formal introduction as he had to, “Theodore Nott sa’Potter.”
Hermione nodded with a quivering smile. “And good luck to you both,” she said, before half-bowing to Nott and then turning away. Harry watched her walk slowly, heavily, to the edge of the Apparition zone and then vanish.
Left alone with his new husband, Harry sighed and turned back to Nott, who was waiting patiently for him. “Nott, I-”
“Do you think you ought to call me that?”
Harry blinked and pushed his glasses up his nose. “The marriage must have let you keep your own name, because I was able to say it to Hermione,” he said, uncertain. Nott had told him that the ritual would keep him from saying the name at all if it didn’t take. Harry would either have had to say “Theodore Potter” or be stuck in one place with his mouth open.
“I mean,” Nott said, stepping closer and slipping his arm around Harry’s waist, which left Harry in one place with his brain gibbering, “you should speak to me as Theodore. We are married, and it might not just be for a year and a day if my father renews his threats. I’m going to call you Harry.”
“Yes, of course.” Harry wondered if-Theodore, damn, that would take some getting used to-if he knew how husky his voice was. Probably some side-effect of the magical marriage, though. Harry knew Theodore hadn’t dated any blokes at school or since. “Come on, then, let’s go home.”
“I like the sound of that.” Theodore closed his eyes and let his head rest against Harry’s collarbone, indicating that he trusted Harry to Side-Along him completely.
Harry gently led Theodore along until they reached the same point where Hermione had Apparated, and took them to the refurbished Grimmauld Place. He had expanded it with the same charms that had been on the tent they’d been in at the Quidditch World Cup all those years ago, and there were now plenty of bedrooms, a huge garden, and even a separate kitchen for Harry to use, since Kreacher had a fit when he saw him cooking.
There was plenty of room so Theodore wouldn’t be disturbed by Harry’s presence. Or possible nightmares.
Or possible wanks over him, either.
*
When I set up the new bedrooms in the house, Harry thought as he stared at Blaise Zabini’s bowed head, it wasn’t some kind of challenge to fate to fill them all up.
“How sure are you of this information?” he asked quietly, as he passed Zabini a cup of tea laced with brandy.
Zabini sipped at it and then groaned in appreciation. “Better than a Pepper-Up,” he said, sagging back against the chair behind him. “And pretty damn sure, Potter. The problem is that Umbridge caught me going through her files, and now she knows that I’m the Unspeakable who was assigned to watch your back in the Ministry.”
“Should you be telling me about that?”
“The mission’s ended. So I can talk about it.”
Harry nodded. “All right, Zabini, well, I owe you a debt. I’ll make sure that you have a place to stay that’s Unplottable and-”
“Do you think Umbridge’s wrath is going to disappear after a few days? Or weeks? Or months? Or that of her connections? She used all those connections to stay out of Azkaban after the war.” Zabini leaned forwards intently. “And she obviously has allies who want to work with her for the sake of watching you go down. I don’t know where an attack might come from any second.”
“I can give you shelter for that long.” Harry smiled at him.
He got back a flat look in return. “I want a stronger form of protection.”
“All right. Do you want me to cast the Fidelius on one of the Black properties and be the Secret-Keeper for you?”
“No. I want what you have with Theodore.”
It took Harry more seconds than it should have to figure out what he meant, because his mind was tangled with thoughts of separate bedrooms and the confusing fact that Zabini wasn’t running from his Death Eater father. As far as Harry knew, his father was dead. Then he realized what Zabini meant, and glared at him. “You can’t marry me. Or want to.”
“Yes, I can. I looked up all the laws before I came here. Just to refresh my memory, you understand, because I read them for the first time when I heard what Theodore was trying to do.” Zabini’s eyes shone a little. “Someone who’s conquered a Dark Lord can have more than one spouse, at least if they use the ritual you did with Theodore. Hell, Albus Dumbledore could have had a whole group of men sworn to him walking around the castle and sleeping in his bed, if he wanted.”
Harry sighed. “The first thing you ought to know is that Theodore and I don’t sleep together. I wouldn’t coerce him into that when I know that he didn’t choose to marry me of my own free will.”
Zabini sat in silence for a moment, as if digesting that. “You have separate bedrooms?” he asked.
Harry nodded. “And you would have one of your own if you wanted to stay here. Or you could have a bedroom in one of those Unplottable Black properties and stay here one night a week. The magical marriage’s laws say that we technically only need to spend that much time together. It was created in a time when someone might be out of the country a lot for a job or during a war.”
Zabini sipped the last of his brandy-laced tea and put down his cup. “Awfully eager to get rid of me, aren’t you?”
Harry frowned at him. “I know this situation can’t be pleasant for you, Zabini. I’m sure the last thing you wanted to do is come here, or ask me for help. I’m just trying to make this as easy as I can for everybody.”
“You’re speaking to me as if I was Draco and had some sort of personal problem with you.” Zabini smiled at him. “I have no personal problem with you. Your defeating the Dark Lord is a nice bonus. I know you’ll protect me. I’ll take a bedroom here.”
Harry nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll ask my friend Ron to be our witness.”
“Why, if you hate this as much as you seem to? You can ask Theodore.”
Harry sighed at the tone in Zabini’s voice. “I don’t hate this, Zabini, and I don’t hate you. I just wish that things were different. That Umbridge wasn’t still in power and you didn’t have to run from her. That there was something I can do about Theodore’s father, when there’s nothing.”
“Marrying him and giving him shelter isn’t nothing. It won’t be in my case, either.”
“Will marrying me cause you problems with the Unspeakables?”
“Why would it, when they assigned me to protect you at one point?” Zabini blinked.
“Some of them wanted me to visit them in the Department of Mysteries after the war.” Harry clenched his jaw. He’d foolishly agreed because he’d felt bad about what the battle at the end of his fifth year must have done to some of the Unspeakables’ projects. “They told me that they were interested in the magic that had let me defeat Voldemort. And then I woke up on a table with three hours missing from my memory and straps being fastened around my wrists.”
Zabini’s eyes widened. “I-never knew that. What happened?”
“I never did get back those three missing hours. Hermione thinks they used a potion, not a Memory Charm.” Harry wondered for a second if he should be telling this to Zabini, but, well, the Unspeakables certainly already knew, and their magical marriage would include some protections against them spilling each other’s secrets when they signed the contract. “I told them to let me go, and they said they had to understand ‘what had happened.’ I broke free of the straps and destroyed the room they had me in.”
Zabini sat back with a thump, quite a trick when Harry hadn’t even noticed him rising to his feet. “That’s what happened to the Mind Room. It’s just a hole.”
“Probably. I never asked where they had me.”
“How did you break free, though?”
Harry shrugged. “Wandless magic.” He raised his eyebrows as he noted the shiver that ran through Zabini. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” On the other hand, if Zabini backed off, it would probably be better for both of them. Zabini wouldn’t have to be trapped in a marriage with someone who frightened him, and Harry...
Well, Zabini was fit in a way that appealed to Harry as much as Theodore’s desire to rely on him.
“I’m not.” Zabini cleared his throat. “Frightened, that is.” His voice sounded thick, the way Theodore’s had right after the marriage ceremony. Harry sighed and wondered if the magic could start working in anticipation before they even signed or swore something. “Is there anything else I should know before marrying you?”
“I promise that I’ll protect you,” Harry said quietly. “But I won’t put up with any nonsense about Muggles or blood traitors or Muggleborns. Almost all my friends are in the latter two categories, you know.”
“I don’t plan to give you that nonsense, Potter. It was never as important to me as it was to some of the other Slytherins anyway.”
Harry smiled a little sadly and held out his hand to Zabini over the table. “Then welcome to-I suppose we can call it an unconventional marriage? But I know that you’re doing it for a good reason.”
Zabini shook Harry’s hand and held on for a moment. Harry cursed himself for reading too much into that, or the way that Zabini’s fingers slid across his palm for a moment.
He had to give up this foolish hope that his spouses were marrying him out of desire. He knew they weren’t, and it would dishonor them far more than following this custom did if he acted like he had the right to sleep with them, touch them, kiss them, or any of that.
*
“And I, Blaise Zabini, take you, Harry Potter, as my lawfully joined husband for a year and a day. I promise to trust you, to stand by your side, to accept food and water and shelter from your hand, to share magic with you, to offer you the comfort of my support and my body.”
Does he have to purr like that? Harry thought, faintly despairing, but then told himself not to hold Blaise’s natural tone of voice against him. He did look beautiful like this, standing up and reaching for Harry to give him the kiss.
But that was none of Harry’s business, either.
“I believe the marriage is nearly complete,” Ron said in a strangled voice. He had his hand over his face and was peering out around his fingers with one eye. He closed it again the minute Harry glanced at him. “You may seal it.”
Harry nodded and leaned in. This time, he was determined that there wouldn’t be a repeat of the snog he’d accidentally given Theodore. He didn’t want to reject Blaise, but at the same time, he did want to set up certain boundaries. Over the past week as they’d prepared for the wedding, he’d learned about Blaise’s mother and the husbands she’d almost certainly killed.
He didn’t want to make Blaise think Harry believed he was a seducer or anything like that, just because of his mother.
Once again, Harry’s good intentions didn’t win the day. Blaise’s mouth opened the minute their lips touched, so Harry fell into the snog without a chance to even discreetly pull back. It would have disrupted the marriage kiss if he had. At least Blaise was making satisfied noises under his breath, so Harry supposed it couldn’t be all that terrible.
He turned around with his hand on Blaise’s shoulder to the applause. Theodore was standing next to Ron and clapping fervently, his face bright rosy red in the sunshine. Harry made a mental note to teach Theodore more Sunblocking Charms.
Somewhat to Harry’s surprise, Theodore had been enthusiastic about the idea of Harry marrying Blaise. Well, Theodore had to stay in the house a lot because his father was searching to catch him outside, and Blaise would be home whenever he wasn’t at work for much the same reason. Theodore must be lonely, Harry thought, and he had said Blaise was one of his friends from school. They could entertain each other while Harry worked with the Aurors.
“This is my husband,” Harry told him and Ron, “Blaise Zabini sa’Potter.”
Theodore clapped harder, and Blaise shivered a little next to Harry. Harry made another mental note, this one to have Kreacher add some anti-disease potions to Blaise’s tea. He seemed to be getting a cold.
“Welcome to the family,” Theodore said, and stepped forwards to shake Blaise’s hand. Then he leaned in to whisper into his ear. Harry turned firmly away and told himself being jealous was stupid.
He met Ron’s eyes, and Ron shook his head at him. “Really, mate? Another one?”
“They need help,” Harry said. He knew he sounded defensive, but, well. There were few defenses for just collecting beautiful men like sweets, he supposed. “And I’m the only person available to give it to them.”
“I’m not questioning that,” Ron said. “I just wonder how many more you’re going to end up with.”
Harry laughed. “Come on, Ron. How many Slytherins in need of shelter from oppressive parents or stupid government ministers can there be?”
*
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.”
Malfoy sat back, his eyes closed, looking devastated. His wife, Astoria-Malfoy, Harry supposed her name was now-gave him a kind look and a pat on the arm, and turned towards Harry with far more calm than he’d expected. “Why not?”
“You’re already married.” Harry was grateful for the absolute excuse, and that he knew it. But, after all, he’d studied the marriage ceremony in deep detail before he’d married Theodore. “We can’t do the kind of marriage you’re asking for because it would interfere with your own bond. And, honestly? I think that you’re exaggerating the danger from Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”
Astoria frowned prettily. “I’m sorry if we gave you the impression that we’re in danger. We’re not. Not the way that Theodore and Blaise were.”
“Okay,” Harry said. “Then why come to me?”
“Because this is a way to maintain respectability while still leaving their house.” Astoria pushed a curl of blonde hair behind her ear, and Harry found his eyes following it. Bloody hell, I need to get laid. “I’m tired of them telling me, over and over, that I like Muggles too much just because I think they shouldn’t all be exterminated. But it’s traditional for a couple in the first two years of marriage to live with one set or the other of their parents, and my parents don’t have the room. This lets us avoid scandal.”
“How, though?” Harry demanded. “If you marry me-if that was even possible, which I told you why it’s not-then everyone will assume that the Malfoys threatened you somehow. That would make a bigger scandal than just living apart from them.”
“Not if we announce the true reason for the marriage,” Astoria said, and smiled.
“Yes,” Malfoy said, opening his eyes and at least looking a little less like a drowning starfish. Harry actually wished he would go back to that, with perhaps less emphasis on the “drowning.” Now the angle he was sitting at was making Harry notice that he’d lost some of the pointiness that used to haunt his features. “Which is that we’re honoring the debt the Malfoy family owes you and living under your protection for a year to show that all is truly reconciled.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?” Malfoy drew himself up. “I didn’t think you thought the debt was that deep, Potter.”
“No, I don’t.” Harry kept his voice calm with an effort, because all he could hear inside his head was Ron laughing hysterically at him. “Listen to me. You can’t use the bond Theodore and Blaise promised me because you have an existing marriage bond. They were only able to make the promises they chose because they didn’t have a prior spouse who would demand their loyalty. You can’t-”
“There’s a similar marriage ceremony,” Astoria said with a shrug of her shoulders that made them look very delicate. “We’ll do that one.”
Harry very carefully did not scream. “I don’t want to interfere in your marriage.”
“You won’t.” Malfoy nodded at him. “We would invite you into our bond for a year and a day as an equal partner. That means we would all give each other the same loyalty and promises of shelter and so on.”
Harry frowned at him. “Then why would you be able to spin it to the public as sheltering under my hand, the way you put it when you arrived?”
Malfoy smiled. That smile was also a lot more attractive than it used to be, Harry thought in despair. “Because of the consequences of you defeating a Dark Lord. We would make you promises of shelter if you ever needed it, in the form of support and loyalty. But you would be giving us the shelter of your home, and make it clear that you really are our Lord.”
“Oh, no.” Harry put up his hands. “We are not doing that shit.”
“I am going to ask that not swear in front of our wife, Harry.”
Harry tried desperately to ignore the feeling that he was on top of a mudslide rolling downhill and his only chance was to ride it. “Listen. Lots of people after the war wanted me to take up the position of a Lord. A magical one, not one that rules by blood, since there aren’t any more of those. I refused it for the same reasons Professor Dumbledore did.”
Astoria frowned a little. “I’m not aware of those reasons.”
“I don’t want to rule people, I don’t think I’m better than anyone else, and I don’t think magical power makes you a fit candidate to hold the political kind.”
Astoria blinked rapidly. Harry felt a little sorry for overwhelming her, the way he apparently had, but it would be best if she gave up this silly idea now.
Draco didn’t appear inspired to give up this silly idea. “Well, Dumbledore had a reason to refuse, didn’t he? We all know since Rita Skeeter’s book came out that people would have found out his past with Grindelwald if he was a public figure. And everyone knew he was going to be the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. He obviously wanted that position more. But you’re not in line for anything.”
“Head Auror, is what Kingsley is telling me,” Harry said coolly.
“Yes, but not right away. You’ve got time to devote to your spouses.”
Harry sighed. “I don’t know how the ceremony to marry a couple is different than the ceremony to marry a single person, but Theodore and Blaise have their own lives. Their own rooms.”
“They do?”
Draco’s astonishment was a little irritating. Harry frowned at him. “I told you, I don’t want to rule people. And the ceremony doesn’t require that we sleep together. That’s why I chose it. You think I wanted to rape people?”
“No. No, of course not.” Draco was already sitting back in his chair in a nonchalant fashion. “But that means that you don’t have to object to marrying us, do you? There is a ceremony that will do it. And you won’t interfere in our bond in any way.”
There was a strange tone in his voice when he said that, and Harry opened his mouth to ask about it. But Astoria intervened, leaning forwards across the kitchen table again.
“Please, Harry. It will mean so much to us. To have a place that’s our own, away from our in-laws, without people questioning it. And to have the protection of someone powerful in society. That’ll get rid of the last of the taint the Malfoy name carries from the war.”
“And it can pay back the debt we owe,” Draco added.
Harry glared at him. “You owe me nothing. When I testified at your trials, I was paying back the life-debt I owed your mother. And you, from the Manor.”
“You saved my life in the Room of Hidden Things. You kept me and my father out of prison.” Draco’s face was somber. “Excuse me for thinking that we might owe you a little more.”
“Please, Harry.” Astoria leaned forwards to slide a finger up the back of his hand.
It was intriguing in a way it shouldn’t have been. Harry consoled himself with the thought that he had just stayed in his bedroom during the nights, wanking sometimes over Theodore and sometimes over Blaise, and he could add a couple to the rotation in his head if he had to.
Besides, they had each other, so there wasn’t going to be any of the weirdness there sometimes was in the morning when Theodore and Blaise wandered down the corridor shirtless and lingered to talk with Harry. (Why they didn’t want to use the bathrooms attached to their bedrooms, Harry didn’t understand, but those were smaller than the one in the corridor).
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
*
“What are you doing here, George? Ron was supposed to be my witness.”
“Every time Ron thought about you marrying Malfoy, he laughed so hard that he couldn’t get off the floor,” George said cheerfully. He nodded to Draco and Astoria, both standing behind Harry in silver robes. “No offense, Malfoy, Malfoy. I promise that I’m not going to play any pranks and mess up the ceremony.”
Draco folded his arms. “And it didn’t make you laugh so hard you couldn’t get off the floor?”
“No. Some of the laughter went out of my life when my twin died.”
Draco flushed and didn’t seem to know what to say. Harry took his arm and gently steered him into the middle of the garden. They’d chosen to use the garden at Grimmauld Place for this particular bonding, since Draco was part of the Black family already and Astoria semi-related to him through their prior marriage.
Theodore and Blaise had thoroughly approved the choice, and also Harry’s decision to marry Draco and Astoria. Harry could only suppose they were looking forward to even more company. Now they stood off to the left side of the garden in the same dark robes they’d married him in, talking softly.
Harry still wondered how in the world this had come to be his life, and he would have liked a few days to pause and sort out the chaos in his head. Unfortunately, there was no time for that, what with a case in the Auror Division that had taken all his time and then this Saturday needing to be the wedding. Ceremonies like this could only be held on the day-not the evening-of the full moon.
“You look dashing,” Draco said in an undertone to Harry as Harry gently positioned him on the left side of the basalt boulder in the middle of the garden and then went back to fetch Astoria.
Harry smiled uncomfortably back at him, not sure what to say himself. He’d had to wear special robes for this ceremony, while with the others, it hadn’t mattered. Harry had got married in his Auror robes for those. Why not? They were comfortable, and if Theodore’s father or Umbridge’s people had tried to disrupt the wedding, he would have been ready for battle.
On the other hand, this time he wore green robes with a high silver color. Harry thought they looked entirely too Slytherin.
Especially since they had little silver snakes all down the panels. Apparently that was for his Parseltongue and the Dark Lord he’d defeated.
Harry didn’t want a reminder of Voldemort at his bloody wedding, but he’d been overruled, by Theodore, Blaise, and Astoria all three together. Besides, he supposed being a third wedding didn’t make it so special.
But from the radiant glow in Astoria’s eyes as she beamed up at him, and Harry swept her over the ground to the right side of the basalt boulder, it might be her first. Harry kept his shake of his head to himself, and assumed the position in front of the boulder, completing the third point of the triangle. He nodded to George.
George took a spot off to the side where all three of them could see him without craning their necks, and cleared his throat officiously. Harry eyed him and tried to convey Auror-like determination to kill him if he messed this up.
Luckily, George must have studied the wording of the ritual. Maybe he’d just wanted to be here to see Harry marrying two Malfoys, Harry thought. “This rite is for the protection of a married man and woman under the hand of the conqueror,” George said in a singsong tone. The smirk tugging at his lips said that he found this more amusing than messing things up, and Harry relaxed a little. “Who comes here to accept his protection?”
“Draco Malfoy, husband to Astoria Malfoy, petitioner.”
“Astoria Malfoy, wife to Draco Malfoy, petitioner.”
George nodded and turned a little so that he was facing Harry more than the others. “The conqueror must accept them into his protection and set the terms of that protection. Who accepts them, and what are the terms?”
“Harry Potter, conqueror of the Dark Lord, accepts these petitions.” Harry cleared his throat. The wording of this particular rite was so bloody pretentious.
But Astoria’s glowing eyes were still uplifted to him, and Draco looked the least uncomfortable that Harry had seen him since he’d walked in to find them already sitting in his kitchen (bloody Kreacher and his fondness for Black descendants). Maybe he really did feel that his family owed those debts.
“For the term of a year and a day,” Harry said clearly, sweeping his eyes over Draco, Astoria, Theodore, and Blaise-who was leaning forwards like a hunting hound, how strange-and then George, “I promise to give the petitioners the shelter of my roof, my hand, and my power. I promise to give them food and water as necessary. I promise to protect them from their enemies and take them to my heart.” Harry took a deep breath and spoke the words he hated most. “I promise to act as their lord.”
Astoria spoke then, sinking into a curtsey that made the silver robes spread out with a rustle around her. Harry kept his gaze firmly on the top of her golden head, forbidding himself sternly to look lower. “I, Astoria Malfoy, promise to give my lord the shelter of my heart, my support, and my loyalty for the term of a year and a day. I welcome him to my bond with my husband, Draco Malfoy, and hold him equal to Draco, my second husband. May our bond prosper.”
Draco bowed as low as Astoria had curtsied, his silver robes forming a shining trail behind him. Harry had wondered why they seemed to have so much extra material in them; now he understood. “I, Draco Malfoy, promise to give my lord the shelter of my heart, my support, and my loyalty for the term of a year and a day. I welcome him to my bond with my wife, Astoria Malfoy, and hold him equal to Astoria, my second spouse. May our bond shine.”
Magic erupted out of the air around them, and Harry relaxed. Everyone had to be sincere and trusting in the potential of the bond, or this wouldn’t have worked. But now they were being showered by softly glowing snowflakes that turned gold the moment they hit the ground, and piled up on his head and arms like gentle touches from hands.
It had worked.
Astoria was moving forwards with her face lifted, and Harry bent down and kissed her. To his immense relief, she didn’t try to make it a snog like Blaise and Theodore had. She did smile as though he had granted her a crown when it was done, though.
Kissing Draco was more awkward, or at least Harry experienced it that way. He didn’t snog, either, but he seemed disappointed when Harry stepped back after the kiss was done, which made Harry wonder what he had done wrong. He squeezed Draco’s hand and looked at him in concern.
Draco smiled, then, the shadow vanishing from his face. “I’m all right,” he mouthed, and Harry nodded.
Then Harry got a big lungful of air and turned towards Theodore and Blaise, who were smiling, and George, who was smirking. (After looking at their faces, Harry was never again going to doubt that he knew the difference between those two expressions). “May I present my spouses, Draco Malfoy Potter and Astoria Malfoy Potter.”
“And may we present our spouse,” Astoria said, “Harry Potter Malfoy.”
Harry blinked at her. He’d thought Draco and her were supposed to say that together.
“May we present our lord,” Draco continued, “Harry Potter Malfoy.”
Harry glared at him, but Draco just raised his eyebrows a little, utterly unimpressed. Harry sighed. It was within the acceptable parameters of the ceremony, even if it annoyed him.
And it was reassuring to know that Draco and Astoria didn’t hold him in awe or anything. He couldn’t have tolerated that.
George came up to shake his hand and muttered in an undervoice as Theodore and Blaise came up to whisper with Draco and Astoria in some sort of Slytherin reunion, “So, are there going to be any more marriages?”
“No more Slytherins,” Harry said firmly.
“Not what I asked.”
Harry scowled at him. “I have a full house.”
Of lovely spouses I cannot touch.
And he did believe that. He really did.
Part Two.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Harry/Theodore, Harry/Blaise, Harry/Draco/Astoria, Draco/Astoria, Harry/Zacharias, Harry/Luna
Content Notes: Humor, not epilogue-compliant, polyamory, harem fic, magically powerful Harry, screwed-up wizarding law, angst, brief violence
Rating: R
Wordcount: This part 5900
Summary: It turns out that, when various people begin asking Harry for legal and magical shelter, he has the power to marry them all as per an ancient Ministry law that says the conqueror of a Dark Lord can have multiple spouses. Harry knows the marriages are in name only, and it’s not like they require sex, just a magical oath. He thinks he’s doing very well at resisting temptation, not realizing what a temptation he is himself.
Author’s Notes: This is one of my “From Litha to Lammas” fics being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August this year. As you can see from the summary, this fic is not meant to be taken entirely seriously. It should have four parts.
Covet
“And I, Harry Potter, take you, Theodore Nott, as my lawfully joined husband for a year and a day. I promise to shelter you, to stand by your side, to offer you food and water as you need it, to share magic with you, to offer you the comfort of my shadow and my wand arm.”
Harry paused to take a breath. He knew that he’d gabbled the magical promise more than just said it, but he’d been so afraid that he’d forget it, he’d thought it best to rush through.
Besides, if the magic unfolding from the end of his wand was any sign, he’d done it correctly. The glittering green and golden ribbons danced in the air, then settled like a cloak around Theodore Nott’s shoulders as he knelt before Harry. They were outside, doing this at noon in the shadow of an oak on the property Harry had bought after the war, as per tradition.
Nott was looking up at Harry with complete trust as he finished the vow. When the ribbons settled, he crossed his arms in front of himself and bowed his head a little. His dark hair slumped across his face, much the way his shoulders had slumped when he first came to Harry’s house and asked Harry to invoke a marriage custom that hadn’t been used in almost four hundred years.
But his voice was strong and steady as he said, “And I, Theodore Nott, take you, Harry Potter, as my lawfully joined husband for a year and a day. I promise to trust you, to stand by your side, to accept food and water and shelter from your hand, to share magic with you, to offer you the comfort of my support and my body.”
Harry flushed when he heard the last promise, and he shook away visions that had no right to dance in his head. Nott had to promise that because that was what the words of the oath said, but-they wouldn’t be sleeping together. Not really. This old custom didn’t require consummation. It had been used in lots of circumstances where one of the partners was too young or too old or the wrong gender for someone’s preference. It was meant as a protection from an unreasonable family member or untenable legal situation, and “the comfort of my body” could just mean fighting side-by-side, or the occasional hug.
Nott had reassured Harry of that again and again before Harry had been comfortable agreeing to the marriage. He would never want to sleep with someone less than fully willing.
Nott’s deep grey eyes glowed as he extended his hands, standing. Harry ringed them with more green and golden ribbons that simply sprouted from his wand without having to be called, and then coughed. Nott smiled.
“I believe the marriage is nearly complete,” said Hermione, the one witness they had to have as per the law. “You may-seal it.”
Harry heard the uncertainty in her voice, and sighed to himself. Hermione hadn’t approved of this at all, but she had to admit that there didn’t seem another solution likely to protect Nott from his Death Eater father. Per Nott family custom and no law actually prohibiting it, Belisarius Nott had the right to drag his son back home and lock him up in a room until he was twenty-five. From the way Theodore had described it, his father would kill him long before then.
And that made Harry ache with far more anger than the thought of marrying Theodore Nott did.
Nott was already moving forwards, his face set in a smile that Harry knew hid so much. Harry leaned in to meet him, one hand rising to gently cup his face as he kissed him.
He felt the marriage shudder and settle deep in his chest in a flowing wave of golden magic the minute their lips touched. Harry relaxed. Good, he wouldn’t have to subject Nott to a deep snog or-
Nott’s mouth opened. Harry gasped, and found their tongues touching without him being aware of how it had happened. He swallowed, let the kiss linger a moment to show Nott that he wasn’t rejecting him, and then moved backwards, clearing his throat a little.
“This is my husband,” he said to Hermione, making the formal introduction as he had to, “Theodore Nott sa’Potter.”
Hermione nodded with a quivering smile. “And good luck to you both,” she said, before half-bowing to Nott and then turning away. Harry watched her walk slowly, heavily, to the edge of the Apparition zone and then vanish.
Left alone with his new husband, Harry sighed and turned back to Nott, who was waiting patiently for him. “Nott, I-”
“Do you think you ought to call me that?”
Harry blinked and pushed his glasses up his nose. “The marriage must have let you keep your own name, because I was able to say it to Hermione,” he said, uncertain. Nott had told him that the ritual would keep him from saying the name at all if it didn’t take. Harry would either have had to say “Theodore Potter” or be stuck in one place with his mouth open.
“I mean,” Nott said, stepping closer and slipping his arm around Harry’s waist, which left Harry in one place with his brain gibbering, “you should speak to me as Theodore. We are married, and it might not just be for a year and a day if my father renews his threats. I’m going to call you Harry.”
“Yes, of course.” Harry wondered if-Theodore, damn, that would take some getting used to-if he knew how husky his voice was. Probably some side-effect of the magical marriage, though. Harry knew Theodore hadn’t dated any blokes at school or since. “Come on, then, let’s go home.”
“I like the sound of that.” Theodore closed his eyes and let his head rest against Harry’s collarbone, indicating that he trusted Harry to Side-Along him completely.
Harry gently led Theodore along until they reached the same point where Hermione had Apparated, and took them to the refurbished Grimmauld Place. He had expanded it with the same charms that had been on the tent they’d been in at the Quidditch World Cup all those years ago, and there were now plenty of bedrooms, a huge garden, and even a separate kitchen for Harry to use, since Kreacher had a fit when he saw him cooking.
There was plenty of room so Theodore wouldn’t be disturbed by Harry’s presence. Or possible nightmares.
Or possible wanks over him, either.
*
When I set up the new bedrooms in the house, Harry thought as he stared at Blaise Zabini’s bowed head, it wasn’t some kind of challenge to fate to fill them all up.
“How sure are you of this information?” he asked quietly, as he passed Zabini a cup of tea laced with brandy.
Zabini sipped at it and then groaned in appreciation. “Better than a Pepper-Up,” he said, sagging back against the chair behind him. “And pretty damn sure, Potter. The problem is that Umbridge caught me going through her files, and now she knows that I’m the Unspeakable who was assigned to watch your back in the Ministry.”
“Should you be telling me about that?”
“The mission’s ended. So I can talk about it.”
Harry nodded. “All right, Zabini, well, I owe you a debt. I’ll make sure that you have a place to stay that’s Unplottable and-”
“Do you think Umbridge’s wrath is going to disappear after a few days? Or weeks? Or months? Or that of her connections? She used all those connections to stay out of Azkaban after the war.” Zabini leaned forwards intently. “And she obviously has allies who want to work with her for the sake of watching you go down. I don’t know where an attack might come from any second.”
“I can give you shelter for that long.” Harry smiled at him.
He got back a flat look in return. “I want a stronger form of protection.”
“All right. Do you want me to cast the Fidelius on one of the Black properties and be the Secret-Keeper for you?”
“No. I want what you have with Theodore.”
It took Harry more seconds than it should have to figure out what he meant, because his mind was tangled with thoughts of separate bedrooms and the confusing fact that Zabini wasn’t running from his Death Eater father. As far as Harry knew, his father was dead. Then he realized what Zabini meant, and glared at him. “You can’t marry me. Or want to.”
“Yes, I can. I looked up all the laws before I came here. Just to refresh my memory, you understand, because I read them for the first time when I heard what Theodore was trying to do.” Zabini’s eyes shone a little. “Someone who’s conquered a Dark Lord can have more than one spouse, at least if they use the ritual you did with Theodore. Hell, Albus Dumbledore could have had a whole group of men sworn to him walking around the castle and sleeping in his bed, if he wanted.”
Harry sighed. “The first thing you ought to know is that Theodore and I don’t sleep together. I wouldn’t coerce him into that when I know that he didn’t choose to marry me of my own free will.”
Zabini sat in silence for a moment, as if digesting that. “You have separate bedrooms?” he asked.
Harry nodded. “And you would have one of your own if you wanted to stay here. Or you could have a bedroom in one of those Unplottable Black properties and stay here one night a week. The magical marriage’s laws say that we technically only need to spend that much time together. It was created in a time when someone might be out of the country a lot for a job or during a war.”
Zabini sipped the last of his brandy-laced tea and put down his cup. “Awfully eager to get rid of me, aren’t you?”
Harry frowned at him. “I know this situation can’t be pleasant for you, Zabini. I’m sure the last thing you wanted to do is come here, or ask me for help. I’m just trying to make this as easy as I can for everybody.”
“You’re speaking to me as if I was Draco and had some sort of personal problem with you.” Zabini smiled at him. “I have no personal problem with you. Your defeating the Dark Lord is a nice bonus. I know you’ll protect me. I’ll take a bedroom here.”
Harry nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll ask my friend Ron to be our witness.”
“Why, if you hate this as much as you seem to? You can ask Theodore.”
Harry sighed at the tone in Zabini’s voice. “I don’t hate this, Zabini, and I don’t hate you. I just wish that things were different. That Umbridge wasn’t still in power and you didn’t have to run from her. That there was something I can do about Theodore’s father, when there’s nothing.”
“Marrying him and giving him shelter isn’t nothing. It won’t be in my case, either.”
“Will marrying me cause you problems with the Unspeakables?”
“Why would it, when they assigned me to protect you at one point?” Zabini blinked.
“Some of them wanted me to visit them in the Department of Mysteries after the war.” Harry clenched his jaw. He’d foolishly agreed because he’d felt bad about what the battle at the end of his fifth year must have done to some of the Unspeakables’ projects. “They told me that they were interested in the magic that had let me defeat Voldemort. And then I woke up on a table with three hours missing from my memory and straps being fastened around my wrists.”
Zabini’s eyes widened. “I-never knew that. What happened?”
“I never did get back those three missing hours. Hermione thinks they used a potion, not a Memory Charm.” Harry wondered for a second if he should be telling this to Zabini, but, well, the Unspeakables certainly already knew, and their magical marriage would include some protections against them spilling each other’s secrets when they signed the contract. “I told them to let me go, and they said they had to understand ‘what had happened.’ I broke free of the straps and destroyed the room they had me in.”
Zabini sat back with a thump, quite a trick when Harry hadn’t even noticed him rising to his feet. “That’s what happened to the Mind Room. It’s just a hole.”
“Probably. I never asked where they had me.”
“How did you break free, though?”
Harry shrugged. “Wandless magic.” He raised his eyebrows as he noted the shiver that ran through Zabini. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” On the other hand, if Zabini backed off, it would probably be better for both of them. Zabini wouldn’t have to be trapped in a marriage with someone who frightened him, and Harry...
Well, Zabini was fit in a way that appealed to Harry as much as Theodore’s desire to rely on him.
“I’m not.” Zabini cleared his throat. “Frightened, that is.” His voice sounded thick, the way Theodore’s had right after the marriage ceremony. Harry sighed and wondered if the magic could start working in anticipation before they even signed or swore something. “Is there anything else I should know before marrying you?”
“I promise that I’ll protect you,” Harry said quietly. “But I won’t put up with any nonsense about Muggles or blood traitors or Muggleborns. Almost all my friends are in the latter two categories, you know.”
“I don’t plan to give you that nonsense, Potter. It was never as important to me as it was to some of the other Slytherins anyway.”
Harry smiled a little sadly and held out his hand to Zabini over the table. “Then welcome to-I suppose we can call it an unconventional marriage? But I know that you’re doing it for a good reason.”
Zabini shook Harry’s hand and held on for a moment. Harry cursed himself for reading too much into that, or the way that Zabini’s fingers slid across his palm for a moment.
He had to give up this foolish hope that his spouses were marrying him out of desire. He knew they weren’t, and it would dishonor them far more than following this custom did if he acted like he had the right to sleep with them, touch them, kiss them, or any of that.
*
“And I, Blaise Zabini, take you, Harry Potter, as my lawfully joined husband for a year and a day. I promise to trust you, to stand by your side, to accept food and water and shelter from your hand, to share magic with you, to offer you the comfort of my support and my body.”
Does he have to purr like that? Harry thought, faintly despairing, but then told himself not to hold Blaise’s natural tone of voice against him. He did look beautiful like this, standing up and reaching for Harry to give him the kiss.
But that was none of Harry’s business, either.
“I believe the marriage is nearly complete,” Ron said in a strangled voice. He had his hand over his face and was peering out around his fingers with one eye. He closed it again the minute Harry glanced at him. “You may seal it.”
Harry nodded and leaned in. This time, he was determined that there wouldn’t be a repeat of the snog he’d accidentally given Theodore. He didn’t want to reject Blaise, but at the same time, he did want to set up certain boundaries. Over the past week as they’d prepared for the wedding, he’d learned about Blaise’s mother and the husbands she’d almost certainly killed.
He didn’t want to make Blaise think Harry believed he was a seducer or anything like that, just because of his mother.
Once again, Harry’s good intentions didn’t win the day. Blaise’s mouth opened the minute their lips touched, so Harry fell into the snog without a chance to even discreetly pull back. It would have disrupted the marriage kiss if he had. At least Blaise was making satisfied noises under his breath, so Harry supposed it couldn’t be all that terrible.
He turned around with his hand on Blaise’s shoulder to the applause. Theodore was standing next to Ron and clapping fervently, his face bright rosy red in the sunshine. Harry made a mental note to teach Theodore more Sunblocking Charms.
Somewhat to Harry’s surprise, Theodore had been enthusiastic about the idea of Harry marrying Blaise. Well, Theodore had to stay in the house a lot because his father was searching to catch him outside, and Blaise would be home whenever he wasn’t at work for much the same reason. Theodore must be lonely, Harry thought, and he had said Blaise was one of his friends from school. They could entertain each other while Harry worked with the Aurors.
“This is my husband,” Harry told him and Ron, “Blaise Zabini sa’Potter.”
Theodore clapped harder, and Blaise shivered a little next to Harry. Harry made another mental note, this one to have Kreacher add some anti-disease potions to Blaise’s tea. He seemed to be getting a cold.
“Welcome to the family,” Theodore said, and stepped forwards to shake Blaise’s hand. Then he leaned in to whisper into his ear. Harry turned firmly away and told himself being jealous was stupid.
He met Ron’s eyes, and Ron shook his head at him. “Really, mate? Another one?”
“They need help,” Harry said. He knew he sounded defensive, but, well. There were few defenses for just collecting beautiful men like sweets, he supposed. “And I’m the only person available to give it to them.”
“I’m not questioning that,” Ron said. “I just wonder how many more you’re going to end up with.”
Harry laughed. “Come on, Ron. How many Slytherins in need of shelter from oppressive parents or stupid government ministers can there be?”
*
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.”
Malfoy sat back, his eyes closed, looking devastated. His wife, Astoria-Malfoy, Harry supposed her name was now-gave him a kind look and a pat on the arm, and turned towards Harry with far more calm than he’d expected. “Why not?”
“You’re already married.” Harry was grateful for the absolute excuse, and that he knew it. But, after all, he’d studied the marriage ceremony in deep detail before he’d married Theodore. “We can’t do the kind of marriage you’re asking for because it would interfere with your own bond. And, honestly? I think that you’re exaggerating the danger from Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”
Astoria frowned prettily. “I’m sorry if we gave you the impression that we’re in danger. We’re not. Not the way that Theodore and Blaise were.”
“Okay,” Harry said. “Then why come to me?”
“Because this is a way to maintain respectability while still leaving their house.” Astoria pushed a curl of blonde hair behind her ear, and Harry found his eyes following it. Bloody hell, I need to get laid. “I’m tired of them telling me, over and over, that I like Muggles too much just because I think they shouldn’t all be exterminated. But it’s traditional for a couple in the first two years of marriage to live with one set or the other of their parents, and my parents don’t have the room. This lets us avoid scandal.”
“How, though?” Harry demanded. “If you marry me-if that was even possible, which I told you why it’s not-then everyone will assume that the Malfoys threatened you somehow. That would make a bigger scandal than just living apart from them.”
“Not if we announce the true reason for the marriage,” Astoria said, and smiled.
“Yes,” Malfoy said, opening his eyes and at least looking a little less like a drowning starfish. Harry actually wished he would go back to that, with perhaps less emphasis on the “drowning.” Now the angle he was sitting at was making Harry notice that he’d lost some of the pointiness that used to haunt his features. “Which is that we’re honoring the debt the Malfoy family owes you and living under your protection for a year to show that all is truly reconciled.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?” Malfoy drew himself up. “I didn’t think you thought the debt was that deep, Potter.”
“No, I don’t.” Harry kept his voice calm with an effort, because all he could hear inside his head was Ron laughing hysterically at him. “Listen to me. You can’t use the bond Theodore and Blaise promised me because you have an existing marriage bond. They were only able to make the promises they chose because they didn’t have a prior spouse who would demand their loyalty. You can’t-”
“There’s a similar marriage ceremony,” Astoria said with a shrug of her shoulders that made them look very delicate. “We’ll do that one.”
Harry very carefully did not scream. “I don’t want to interfere in your marriage.”
“You won’t.” Malfoy nodded at him. “We would invite you into our bond for a year and a day as an equal partner. That means we would all give each other the same loyalty and promises of shelter and so on.”
Harry frowned at him. “Then why would you be able to spin it to the public as sheltering under my hand, the way you put it when you arrived?”
Malfoy smiled. That smile was also a lot more attractive than it used to be, Harry thought in despair. “Because of the consequences of you defeating a Dark Lord. We would make you promises of shelter if you ever needed it, in the form of support and loyalty. But you would be giving us the shelter of your home, and make it clear that you really are our Lord.”
“Oh, no.” Harry put up his hands. “We are not doing that shit.”
“I am going to ask that not swear in front of our wife, Harry.”
Harry tried desperately to ignore the feeling that he was on top of a mudslide rolling downhill and his only chance was to ride it. “Listen. Lots of people after the war wanted me to take up the position of a Lord. A magical one, not one that rules by blood, since there aren’t any more of those. I refused it for the same reasons Professor Dumbledore did.”
Astoria frowned a little. “I’m not aware of those reasons.”
“I don’t want to rule people, I don’t think I’m better than anyone else, and I don’t think magical power makes you a fit candidate to hold the political kind.”
Astoria blinked rapidly. Harry felt a little sorry for overwhelming her, the way he apparently had, but it would be best if she gave up this silly idea now.
Draco didn’t appear inspired to give up this silly idea. “Well, Dumbledore had a reason to refuse, didn’t he? We all know since Rita Skeeter’s book came out that people would have found out his past with Grindelwald if he was a public figure. And everyone knew he was going to be the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. He obviously wanted that position more. But you’re not in line for anything.”
“Head Auror, is what Kingsley is telling me,” Harry said coolly.
“Yes, but not right away. You’ve got time to devote to your spouses.”
Harry sighed. “I don’t know how the ceremony to marry a couple is different than the ceremony to marry a single person, but Theodore and Blaise have their own lives. Their own rooms.”
“They do?”
Draco’s astonishment was a little irritating. Harry frowned at him. “I told you, I don’t want to rule people. And the ceremony doesn’t require that we sleep together. That’s why I chose it. You think I wanted to rape people?”
“No. No, of course not.” Draco was already sitting back in his chair in a nonchalant fashion. “But that means that you don’t have to object to marrying us, do you? There is a ceremony that will do it. And you won’t interfere in our bond in any way.”
There was a strange tone in his voice when he said that, and Harry opened his mouth to ask about it. But Astoria intervened, leaning forwards across the kitchen table again.
“Please, Harry. It will mean so much to us. To have a place that’s our own, away from our in-laws, without people questioning it. And to have the protection of someone powerful in society. That’ll get rid of the last of the taint the Malfoy name carries from the war.”
“And it can pay back the debt we owe,” Draco added.
Harry glared at him. “You owe me nothing. When I testified at your trials, I was paying back the life-debt I owed your mother. And you, from the Manor.”
“You saved my life in the Room of Hidden Things. You kept me and my father out of prison.” Draco’s face was somber. “Excuse me for thinking that we might owe you a little more.”
“Please, Harry.” Astoria leaned forwards to slide a finger up the back of his hand.
It was intriguing in a way it shouldn’t have been. Harry consoled himself with the thought that he had just stayed in his bedroom during the nights, wanking sometimes over Theodore and sometimes over Blaise, and he could add a couple to the rotation in his head if he had to.
Besides, they had each other, so there wasn’t going to be any of the weirdness there sometimes was in the morning when Theodore and Blaise wandered down the corridor shirtless and lingered to talk with Harry. (Why they didn’t want to use the bathrooms attached to their bedrooms, Harry didn’t understand, but those were smaller than the one in the corridor).
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
*
“What are you doing here, George? Ron was supposed to be my witness.”
“Every time Ron thought about you marrying Malfoy, he laughed so hard that he couldn’t get off the floor,” George said cheerfully. He nodded to Draco and Astoria, both standing behind Harry in silver robes. “No offense, Malfoy, Malfoy. I promise that I’m not going to play any pranks and mess up the ceremony.”
Draco folded his arms. “And it didn’t make you laugh so hard you couldn’t get off the floor?”
“No. Some of the laughter went out of my life when my twin died.”
Draco flushed and didn’t seem to know what to say. Harry took his arm and gently steered him into the middle of the garden. They’d chosen to use the garden at Grimmauld Place for this particular bonding, since Draco was part of the Black family already and Astoria semi-related to him through their prior marriage.
Theodore and Blaise had thoroughly approved the choice, and also Harry’s decision to marry Draco and Astoria. Harry could only suppose they were looking forward to even more company. Now they stood off to the left side of the garden in the same dark robes they’d married him in, talking softly.
Harry still wondered how in the world this had come to be his life, and he would have liked a few days to pause and sort out the chaos in his head. Unfortunately, there was no time for that, what with a case in the Auror Division that had taken all his time and then this Saturday needing to be the wedding. Ceremonies like this could only be held on the day-not the evening-of the full moon.
“You look dashing,” Draco said in an undertone to Harry as Harry gently positioned him on the left side of the basalt boulder in the middle of the garden and then went back to fetch Astoria.
Harry smiled uncomfortably back at him, not sure what to say himself. He’d had to wear special robes for this ceremony, while with the others, it hadn’t mattered. Harry had got married in his Auror robes for those. Why not? They were comfortable, and if Theodore’s father or Umbridge’s people had tried to disrupt the wedding, he would have been ready for battle.
On the other hand, this time he wore green robes with a high silver color. Harry thought they looked entirely too Slytherin.
Especially since they had little silver snakes all down the panels. Apparently that was for his Parseltongue and the Dark Lord he’d defeated.
Harry didn’t want a reminder of Voldemort at his bloody wedding, but he’d been overruled, by Theodore, Blaise, and Astoria all three together. Besides, he supposed being a third wedding didn’t make it so special.
But from the radiant glow in Astoria’s eyes as she beamed up at him, and Harry swept her over the ground to the right side of the basalt boulder, it might be her first. Harry kept his shake of his head to himself, and assumed the position in front of the boulder, completing the third point of the triangle. He nodded to George.
George took a spot off to the side where all three of them could see him without craning their necks, and cleared his throat officiously. Harry eyed him and tried to convey Auror-like determination to kill him if he messed this up.
Luckily, George must have studied the wording of the ritual. Maybe he’d just wanted to be here to see Harry marrying two Malfoys, Harry thought. “This rite is for the protection of a married man and woman under the hand of the conqueror,” George said in a singsong tone. The smirk tugging at his lips said that he found this more amusing than messing things up, and Harry relaxed a little. “Who comes here to accept his protection?”
“Draco Malfoy, husband to Astoria Malfoy, petitioner.”
“Astoria Malfoy, wife to Draco Malfoy, petitioner.”
George nodded and turned a little so that he was facing Harry more than the others. “The conqueror must accept them into his protection and set the terms of that protection. Who accepts them, and what are the terms?”
“Harry Potter, conqueror of the Dark Lord, accepts these petitions.” Harry cleared his throat. The wording of this particular rite was so bloody pretentious.
But Astoria’s glowing eyes were still uplifted to him, and Draco looked the least uncomfortable that Harry had seen him since he’d walked in to find them already sitting in his kitchen (bloody Kreacher and his fondness for Black descendants). Maybe he really did feel that his family owed those debts.
“For the term of a year and a day,” Harry said clearly, sweeping his eyes over Draco, Astoria, Theodore, and Blaise-who was leaning forwards like a hunting hound, how strange-and then George, “I promise to give the petitioners the shelter of my roof, my hand, and my power. I promise to give them food and water as necessary. I promise to protect them from their enemies and take them to my heart.” Harry took a deep breath and spoke the words he hated most. “I promise to act as their lord.”
Astoria spoke then, sinking into a curtsey that made the silver robes spread out with a rustle around her. Harry kept his gaze firmly on the top of her golden head, forbidding himself sternly to look lower. “I, Astoria Malfoy, promise to give my lord the shelter of my heart, my support, and my loyalty for the term of a year and a day. I welcome him to my bond with my husband, Draco Malfoy, and hold him equal to Draco, my second husband. May our bond prosper.”
Draco bowed as low as Astoria had curtsied, his silver robes forming a shining trail behind him. Harry had wondered why they seemed to have so much extra material in them; now he understood. “I, Draco Malfoy, promise to give my lord the shelter of my heart, my support, and my loyalty for the term of a year and a day. I welcome him to my bond with my wife, Astoria Malfoy, and hold him equal to Astoria, my second spouse. May our bond shine.”
Magic erupted out of the air around them, and Harry relaxed. Everyone had to be sincere and trusting in the potential of the bond, or this wouldn’t have worked. But now they were being showered by softly glowing snowflakes that turned gold the moment they hit the ground, and piled up on his head and arms like gentle touches from hands.
It had worked.
Astoria was moving forwards with her face lifted, and Harry bent down and kissed her. To his immense relief, she didn’t try to make it a snog like Blaise and Theodore had. She did smile as though he had granted her a crown when it was done, though.
Kissing Draco was more awkward, or at least Harry experienced it that way. He didn’t snog, either, but he seemed disappointed when Harry stepped back after the kiss was done, which made Harry wonder what he had done wrong. He squeezed Draco’s hand and looked at him in concern.
Draco smiled, then, the shadow vanishing from his face. “I’m all right,” he mouthed, and Harry nodded.
Then Harry got a big lungful of air and turned towards Theodore and Blaise, who were smiling, and George, who was smirking. (After looking at their faces, Harry was never again going to doubt that he knew the difference between those two expressions). “May I present my spouses, Draco Malfoy Potter and Astoria Malfoy Potter.”
“And may we present our spouse,” Astoria said, “Harry Potter Malfoy.”
Harry blinked at her. He’d thought Draco and her were supposed to say that together.
“May we present our lord,” Draco continued, “Harry Potter Malfoy.”
Harry glared at him, but Draco just raised his eyebrows a little, utterly unimpressed. Harry sighed. It was within the acceptable parameters of the ceremony, even if it annoyed him.
And it was reassuring to know that Draco and Astoria didn’t hold him in awe or anything. He couldn’t have tolerated that.
George came up to shake his hand and muttered in an undervoice as Theodore and Blaise came up to whisper with Draco and Astoria in some sort of Slytherin reunion, “So, are there going to be any more marriages?”
“No more Slytherins,” Harry said firmly.
“Not what I asked.”
Harry scowled at him. “I have a full house.”
Of lovely spouses I cannot touch.
And he did believe that. He really did.
Part Two.