Chapter 1
Harry winced, feeling the throbbing pain in his forehead as he opened his eyes. It was a rough reminder of a fundamental lesson that all men learn at one point or another: hangovers suck—big time.
It was his own damned fault, he supposed. Ever since the end of the Triwizard Tournament, and the return of Voldemort, he'd been cooped up in the same house as his vile relatives. Not hearing from his friend Ron had been an annoyance, but fortunately, Hermione, his girlfriend since the Yule Ball, had kept in communication with him. And she had revealed some pretty damming stuff.
According to her, Dumbledore had shown up soon near the beginning of summer, and tried to drag her off to god knows where 'for her protection.' Naturally, she had refused, suspicious of the bearded fossil since his failure to get me out of that damned Tournament last year. When he finally left, annoyed by her persistence, he had convinced her not to write to me, saying it was 'for my protection.' And she kept her promise, never writing to me personally, preferring to use the phone to keep in contact with me. Of course, my relatives were hardly pleased with the notion of the house receiving phone calls from 'freaks' but who gives a damn?
But then came horrible news. Sirius Black, his godfather, and wanted for crimes he didn't commit, had been killed in a stand-off with Aurors. When Hermione had relayed the news, she'd been devastated, but it was a pale imitation of the storm of emotions going through his mind. It didn't help that on his birthday, the Will Reading was held, not that anybody had thought to tell him in advance. Even Hermione believed he had already been told, but fortunately, she pieced the puzzle together, and managed to relay some important information to the goblin Darkfang, namely that he had no idea the Reading was even taking place!
Naturally, the goblins decided to be more thorough moving forward, ensuring his final wishes were carried out. Chief among them? Harry gets a vacation! Specifically, a trip to Las Vegas, where he planned to enjoy himself, alongside his girlfriend, who insisted she needed to be there to keep Harry out of trouble, under the watchful eye of his uncle Moony.
It figures that the day before he left for his trip, a pair of Dementors tried to kill him and his cousin. Now, even though he's on vacation, he has a trial in the back of his mind, knowing he'll have to face the corrupt idiots in the Ministry, the same Ministry that was calling him a liar and a madman for claiming Voldemort was back.
is it too much to hope the Ministry will be burned to the ground by Voldemort while they're gone?
Of course, none of that explains why his head felt like someone was trying to drive a rusty railroad spike into it using a sledgehammer... oh wait, it's Vegas, of course, that makes sense.
It's starting to come back to him now... arriving on the Strip, drinking at the casino bar, all while thanking Merlin for Glamour charms and fake IDs, then cards at the table. Then more drinks, followed by more cards, then more drinking. Hermione tried to reign him in, but he was having too much fun. He's winning everything! They had to move on, something about us breaking something, but that didn't matter. There was always another casino.
On the way, they ran into a girl their age, and Harry could remember her silky black hair and beautiful blue eyes. She tagged along, something about a fight with her father... it wasn't clear in his memory.
He must have been drunk.
They went to the next casino. Second verse same as the first. They serve drinks, he plays cards, and he wins big time. Their new friend is encouraging him though. She's laughing and smiling.
The fun is halted when they get kicked out. Again. But she doesn't mind. She's having the time of her life.
Then she mentions one more casino. A game between the owners of three casinos. It's the chance for the biggest win of all.
Their haul is insane at this point. He's not keeping track, but he knows he's already won an absurd amount of money.
And he's drunk on confidence and a shitload of booze.
He's gotta do it.
She leads them without hesitation. She knows exactly where it is.
They walk in like they own the place. Something in Harry's mind tells him he soon will.
Like she said, a game of poker between three men, only one of whom Harry remembers.
He was bald. That's all he remembers.
The cards are dealt.
The stakes are continuously raised.
First hand he's won $250 million.
Second hand, he's up $2 billion.
And more.
And more.
And more.
Until he wins it all.
Their money.
Their casinos.
Their dignity.
He's on top of the world.
Everything else is a whirlwind of activity.
Laughter.
Cheering.
Snogging.
...Elvis?
Then total darkness.
And now here he is.
His brain is trying to murder him in retaliation for everything it's been through. But he'll get through it. Frankly, he's just thrilled he woke up somewhere dry and comfy. And... warm now that he thinks about it. Looking down at his chest, he can see why. It's Hermione, sleeping with her head resting on his chest.
Her father's going to kill him.
So long as she's happy, it's totally worth it.
Then he feels something shift.
Turning to his left, he sees her. The girl from last night. Long, silky black hair, a heart-shaped face, and eyes like sapphires. She's gorgeous. And she's smiling at him.
"Good morning." She says, her smile never leaving.
"Uh- good morning." Harry isn't sure what's going on. But his face turns red soon after. He just realized something. Under the sheets, he's not wearing anything. And he can tell, neither is she.
She giggles at his reaction.
"Why so shy?"
"I... um... did we?"
Now her smile turns sultry. How does this girl know how to do that?
"All night long. Of course, that's what married couples tend to do on their wedding night."
Harry's brain freezes at those words. Then it resets itself.
"M-married???"
She raises a hand, showing a gold ring on her finger. Harry raises his own, looking at his fingers and seeing not one, but two separate rings. On a whim, he looks at Hermione's hands. And there's a gold ring on one of them.
"I- we- what did-"
Harry's brain crashes at this new information. And everything goes dark.
Waking up with a headache was hardly new for Remus. A lifetime of lycanthropy meant at least once a month, he'd wake up in intense physical discomfort. Not just from the transformation, but from the bites and scratches he'd give himself, unable to find anyone to attack. He preferred it that way. The pain told him he hadn't attacked anyone. He hadn't passed on the curse to anyone. He'd rather live with the pain than the guilt of giving this blasted curse to anyone.
But what made this strange was the pain was limited to his head. A sure sign that he'd spent the night drinking a bit too much. But that usually was followed by him waking up somewhere cold and wet, not warm and dry.
Sitting up, he winces as he tries to focus, looking around to take in his surroundings. He's in a hotel room. High-end. Each night probably cost more than he'd make in a year. There's a nice view of the Strip, but his attention is forced away from the outside. Not just because of the light, but because his sense of smell has just picked up something.
Coffee.
Turning his head, his brain freezes as he takes in the sight before him.
Standing in the doorway, a steaming mug in each hand, is a beautiful woman in a dark green bathrobe. With long brown hair and green eyes, she looks more like Lily's sister than Petunia ever did. But whereas Lily's face radiated kindness and warmth, hers was more clinical. More blunt. And she's appraising him with an amused smirk on her face.
"Coffee?" She asks him so simply.
"Uhm... thank you."
She struts toward him, handing him a mug, while she takes a sip of hers. He follows suit, and forces back a cough as he does so.
"Good lord, that's strong."
"Perfect for waking up after a busy night."
"Right. Uhm... please don't take this the wrong way, but..."
"You're not sure how you got here, are you?"
Remus had the decency to look somewhat ashamed as he nodded in affirmation.
"The last thing I remember with any real clarity is Harry joining a poker game with three other men. I'm not sure how it went exactly, but..."
"It went swimmingly for him. He won three casinos, a private jet, half a dozen luxury sports cars, billions of dollars, and my contract. And that's off the top of my head"
"Wait, your contract?"
"Let me introduce myself. Mercy Graves, former driver, personal assistant, and bodyguard of Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp. As of last night, I work for your... I think you called him your nephew. In any event, between the cash and the properties he won, I have no doubt he's officially set for several lifetimes. Him and his wives."
"Right, well at least he- wait, what!? Wives!?"
Now she was laughing. "You really don't remember? He and those two girls got married last night. Hermione and Zatanna. They make a cute pairing, though the Elvis impersonator ruined the atmosphere. Didn't realize multiple marriages were allowed among magicals."
Now Remus was sure he was still dreaming, his brain trying to process everything.
"Oh relax. Your Statute of Secrecy has more holes than a block of Swiss cheese. I already knew about your wizarding world, at least in part, thanks to my time at LexCorp. Even if I didn't, a handful of magicals operate as supers here in the States, so no laws have been broken."
Whatever shock was on his face must have faded as he processed that information. So Harry won a fortune last night, married Hermione and a girl he just met last night. One thing was apparent at this moment.
"Lily's going to kill me."
"Who?"
"Lily Potter, Harry's mother. I don't know how, but she's going to come back from the grave just so she can kill me."
"Potter... as in, Harry Potter?"
"You've heard of him?"
"Luthor had contacts among magicals here in the States. The news of a toddler defeating a 'dark lord' intrigued him. But he never had enough information to justify taking action."
"Well, thank Merlin for small wonders. Between that same Dark Lord and a mentor I'm not sure I can trust anymore, Harry has enough on his plate without a major CEO hunting for him."
Mercy nods subtly, watching as Remus begins drinking his coffee. It's clear as day this is all a lot for him to take in. She doesn't know the full story, but she can tell there's a great deal she isn't aware of yet. As he finishes his coffee, he turns back to her.
"I don't suppose you know where they are now, do you?"
She smirks. "They're in the penthouse suite, but we should probably wait a bit longer. After all, he's a young man with two beautiful wives. I'm sure they'd like their privacy."
Remus blushed as he realized what she was saying. "Of course, of course..." he trails off as he looks down at himself, suddenly realizing something. "Last night, did we...?"
Her smirk grew into a predatory grin. "Well, instead of telling you what happened," she opened her bathrobe, dropping it around her feet, grinning widely at Remus' small gasp "How about I give you a full re-enactment?"
Giggling.
Normally, it is a pleasant sound. It was a sound that accompanied feelings of joy. It was heard when people were amused. It was a reminder that things were not as terrible as they might be.
But the sound of two girls giggling with each other was uniquely horrifying to Harry. It was a sound that promised that treachery was afoot. His survival instincts kicked in, forcing him awake, and fully alert as he took in the sight of the room. It was a mess, filled with giant piles of money, and loose bills ready to fly away at a stiff breeze. Then there was the gold. Bars of gold were stacked together in pyramids, decorating every table and counter in sight. The largest table had not only gold but also several documents and precious stones.
Evidently, he'd fared better last night than he realized.
But his heart stopped at the sound of giggling again and turned his head towards the source. Sitting at a kitchen island, he saw Hermione and... he couldn't remember her name, but it seemed she was now his wife. One of his wives.
Sweet mother of Merlin, how does end up in situations like these?
Oh, wait, now he remembers. Booze. And lots of it.
Still, he pauses to take in the sight of them. They were both drinking from steaming mugs and seemed not to notice his alertness. Hermione was as beautiful as ever, her bushy hair framing her smiling face, brown eyes wide as she listened to her new... friend. The new girl was likewise cheerful, and both were wearing bathrobes, though Hermione's blue robe was fluffy, while her friend's violet robe was smooth and silky. It was an interesting contrast.
Of course, he was hard-pressed to resist the urge to look down and take notice of their more... physical assets, as opposed to the intellectual ones Hermione was known for.
He must have made a sound, as they both turned toward him, their grins sending a chill down his spine.
"Good morning, husband." They spoke at the same time, sending deeper chills down his spine.
"G-good morning... girls."
'Bad idea.'
"Girls? Oh dear me, I think he doesn't know who we are. What about you?" Hermione made a put-upon face as she turned to her new friend.
"I think you're right, my dear. He seemed to panic when he saw me earlier this morning." Those blue eyes were turning his spine to ice. No point in lying to them, not if he wants to dig himself out of this hole.
"OK, I'll be honest with you, I have no idea what happened last night, and I'm afraid I don't remember your name."
The girl smirked before her features softened. "I suppose that's fair. You were already drunk by the time I ran into you. My name is Zatanna Zatarra. Though as of last night, I think it's Zatanna Black."
"Black? Not Potter?"
"Harry, do you remember what Remus and I told you on the plane? About Padfoot's will?" Hermione spoke up, eyeing him with a look that said 'You better have been paying attention.'
"Mostly. Sirius officially disowned his cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa from the family, and named me the Heir of House Black."
"Right. And now that you're the Lord of House Black, you have to take a second wife to continue the line. Otherwise that cockroach Draco could try and get the Wizengamot to declare his kids Heirs to House Black."
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around that," Zatanna interjected. "Harry's the Lord of two Noble Houses, but he's not allowed to merge them?"
"There's a lot of convoluted laws regarding the Noble Houses of Britain, at least concerning inheritance. The Lord of the Wizengamot are paranoid that an overtly powerful family would risk exposing them to the wider world. You may not have known this, but they're utterly convinced the non-magical have no idea they exist."
Zatanna snorted. "Right. My father mentioned that attitude is omnipresent in Europe. Are they really that clueless?"
"I can introduce you to an adult wizard who's trying to wrap his head around the concept of a rubber duck."
Zatanna snickered at Hermoine's words, while Harry shook his head. "I'm trying to understand how I'm a Lord but grew up in a boot cupboard."
Harry's eyes went wide as he realized he said that out loud. Turning to the girls, his wives, he saw them look at him with utter shock on their faces.
"Please don't mention that to anyone. Promise?"
They both slowly nodded, while Hermione had a look in her eyes, one that he recognized before. It was a look she got when she was proven right. But there was an undercurrent of regret in those eyes. She didn't want to be proven right. Not on this.
Zatanna cleared her throat before speaking. "So, what happens now?"
"Now?" Harry looked at her as he said this.
"Yes, now. Are we going to Britain, or are you two staying in America? I know you still have your schooling to finish, so I figure you either want to finish at Hogwarts or transfer to Ilvermony."
"There's also Voldemort to deal with."
Zatanna stared at Harry. "So it's true? He's back?"
"What exactly have you heard about what's going on in Britain?"
"Not nearly as much as I should, considering my father works with the Justice League and the ICW. I know you were forced to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, and at the end of it, you were telling everyone Voldemort was back. I know your Ministry says it's impossible. I know the ICW sacked Dumbledore for his mishandling of the Tournament, and that about sums it up."
"It's worse than that. The Ministry's been slandering Harry ever since summer began. They've called him everything from an attention-hungry child, to a dangerous madman spouting insane lies. All the while, the Death Eaters that remain free thanks to our corrupt Minister have been on a recruitment drive and targeting muggle-borns and their families."
Harry frowned at the reminder, while Zatanna stared in shock at Hermione. He knew all this already. Hermione had remained better connected to the magical world much better than he did, no doubt thanks to her parents not trying to isolate her at every possible moment. But it was still something else to hear it out loud. But Zatanna's shock was replaced by a look of firm determination.
"Alright, so we're heading back to Britain." When Harry and Hermione stared at her, she grinned. "First, nobody gets to badmouth my husband, especially not when he's this cute." Harry blushed. "Second, that lunatic won't stop at Britain, and that's bad enough already. Thousands will die before the ICW gets its act together. And third, he'll never stop hunting you, Harry, and I'm not letting that stand. He needs to go down. Hard."
Harry blinked at Zatanna, before smiling at her. "Well, I can't argue with that."
"Smart boy. Now then," Zatanna turned to Hermione, "When do we head back to Britain?"
"Monday, so we've got today and tomorrow to make plans. Not to mention we still have the trial to prepare for."
"Trial?"
"Before we came to Vegas, my cousin and I were attacked by a pair of Dementors. The Ministry tried to expel me for underage magic, but they're doing a trial instead."
"Probably so they can discredit you further. Hmm... well, anything else I should know?"
"I don't think so. That should be... wait! My uncle Moony, do you know where he is??"
"Oh yeah, middle-aged with scars on his face?" Harry nodded at Zatanna's words. "He should still be in the building. He and Miss Graves were getting pretty friendly last night."
"Miss Graves?"
"Mercy Graves. As of last night, she works for you. Her old boss Lex Luthor bet her contract to try and keep the Mirage. Didn't work. Don't worry, I'm sure they're quite comfortable."
Harry blushed but smiled. Remus had gone through so much because of his lycanthropy. He deserved a win like this. He was about to say as much when there was a knock at the door. A loud, firm, insistent knock. A knock that was asking for entry, but made clear it wasn't taking no for an answer. Zatanna stiffened when she heard it.
"Oh boy, I think I know who that is."
The trio shared a look, before Harry took a deep breath, summoning his courage. He also grabbed his wand for good measure. He was already in trouble for underage magic, what difference did a little more make for him?
Grabbing his clothes off the floor, Harry quickly put them on, trying to at least give the illusion of decency. Satisfied he could pass for decent, as opposed to scandalous, he cautiously opened the door, keeping his wand at the ready. Before him stood a middle-aged man with a prominent mustache, wearing what Harry could only call a classic tuxedo, complete with white gloves and a red-banded tophat. The man appeared calm, but there was an intense anger boiling behind his eyes, one that Harry fought the urge to cringe at.
"Where. Is. My. Daughter?" He spoke so calmly, you'd think he was discussing the weather. But the way he emphasized every word told him there would be dire consequences for anything less than the absolute truth.
"She's here. She's safe."
He took that as an invitation, stepping forward and pushing past Harry, with calm yet heavy steps. Once inside, Harry slowly closed the door and watched as his eyes fixed upon the figure of his daughter, now Harry's wife. She simply stood there, bathrobe and all, as though nothing was wrong, returning her father's hard stare.
"Hey, Dad."
Silence reigned for a full minute as the tension in the air thickened so much you could cut it with a knife. Finally, he spoke, as calmly as he could. "You have a LOT of explaining to do, young lady."
'Why me? Why all the time me?'