It is 1998 and Harry does not want to get married.
When she was a child, she had always figured her talent would show them all when she grew older. After graduating, well... her American education is barely recognised and hardly respected. Nevermind that she also had straight Os in her OWLs and NEWTs and a mastery in both healing and potions. (Doing two specialization tracks at AIM wasn't supposed to be possible, but very sustained badgering on Harry's part had convinced the administration to make an exception. Her family name hadn't hurt, either).
With her required formal education done, all her future had seemed to stretch out, a shining road she was so excited to walk down. She would have been very happy a solitary academic, tinkering away in her lab. She’d only emerge for travel trips to gather ingredients, meals with her family or Hermione, and to retrieve more reading material. There was of course the additional invention work she did for the marauders business, as well as her volunteering with magical animals and the hospital. Harry had always liked being busy.
And well. There was... That. She tried not to think too much on the double life she had picked up in America, or how the guilt of hiding it would eat at her. It that was under control! It would be fine.
Perfect plan, if it weren’t for that pesky marriage law.
Ostie de criss de tabernacle.
—
The bride is nice enough, but Leo does not want to get married.
She’s funny, with a dry wit. She has a self-possession and quiet confidence that is really quite unusual, and there’s something else about her which draws his attention, though he can’t quite put a finger on it. Sometimes, on the few occasions he’s caught sight of her casting, it feels like his magic is sitting up and listening - its not a bad feeling, but it’s so unexpected it makes him uncomfortable.
Her eyes really are as green as a serpents scales - the shade reminds him of boomslang scales. He had always liked the color - one of Eleni's favorite stories was how he had stolen some off of his father's work table and had almost choked trying to eat it. "Always getting yourself into trouble", she'd say, shaking her head wryly, ruffling his hair while he was still shorter than her. Now, he was too tall for her to do it easily, and her expression was often more worried than wry.
The alleys had changed him more than either of them could have expected. He was harder, colder, and smiled less easily than he had. It felt like he was tired all the time, and the tension didn’t fall off his shoulders even when he was at home anymore.
He had turned down several marriage offers already, some joking and some not, because he honestly couldn’t imagine bringing someone into the danger that was his life. But his father had insisted he give Harry a chance. The girl was working with him on some research, and Hurst had promised her he would do what he could. Apparently the girl didn’t have many options. Since the two of them weren’t looking for romance, they and their families had written out an iron-clad contract to protect both of their interests. They would need to share a residence, but they could live wholly separate lives, and just be friends. And while they had only spoken a few times, he was rather certain they could be friends.
But… married?
—
The building would normally be imposing, but the overall effect is dampened by the bouquets of blooming white flowers, overflowing every horizontal surface. He thinks the Lord Black was responsible for the decor. While he and Harry were supposed to be married today, the decorations weren’t for him - they were for his son, who was to be married later today. A compromise of sorts with the family, who didn’t want this occasion to pass with no commemoration, despite both Harry and Leo insisting it was only a formality.
He’s lingering outside, thinking about how to go inside and tell his bride to be that actually, he would rather they remained friendly, single acquaintances, when she appeared at the door, already pulling on her coat.
She catches sight of him.
“Leo!” A flash of guilt swept over her features.
“Harry?” He asked, incredulous
“I was starting to think you weren’t coming!” she said. If it hadn’t been for the earlier guilt, he might have almost believed the note of relieved earnestness.
He raised an eyebrow at her. He had arrived thirty minutes early. “I’m starting to think you weren’t planning on being here.”
They held their positions like actors in a stopped muggle videotape.
A few seconds passed.
Then a few more.
Finally, Leo sighed, then smiled. It was funny, he had to give it that. “Can I tell my mother that you were the one who called it off?”
“Hey!” Harry said, laughing. It was perhaps one of the most relaxed expressions he’d ever seen on her. “That’s not fair. You’re as much at fault as I am.”
“From where I’m standing, it looks like you meant to leave me at the altar.”
She batted her eyelashes at him - he couldn’t help but think Rispah would admire the delicate expression. “It’s not too late to sign the contract, you know. We could walk right back in and nothing would change. The official will be here until the evening.”
He grimaced.
She grinned.
Then the Lord Black burst through the door behind him.
——
Leo had watched with mild amazement as Arcturus Rigel Black paced the floor, monologued, went into hysterics, collapsed dramatically on the bed, assumed a position of exaggerated languor on the couch and a moue of depressed ennui, and finally ended up sitting cross-legged in front of Harry as she tried to fix the mess he had made of his hair. The pearl beading someone had carefully fixed into his waves had gotten completely frazzled during the dramatics of the past hour.
Harry, in turn, had sat, and listened, and comforted, and scolded, and laughed at her cousin until he had finally calmed down from his pre-wedding jitters. She had shot Leo an apologetic glance at first, and then occasionally commiserating ones, but they both seemed to mostly ignore his presence except when they needed him to present an affirmative or sometimes a negative.
After a few minutes when it became clear that neither of them wanted to kick him out, he found a chair against one of the walls where he could sit and observe. He had known that the two were close, but hadn’t expected the level of trust and comfort with each other that was clearly evident. Sitting there, watching them, he felt an acute pang of something he guessed was loneliness. What would it be like, after a long day of being the Rogue, to have someone to come home to who would run her hands through his hair and just understand him the same way? But that was an unrealistic dream. None of his subjects could really cross that barrier leadership had erected between them - not even Ripsah, his cousin. And no one of the alleys could really understand.
At that moment, Black opened his eyes and locked eyes with Leo. His expression was inscrutable, suddenly hard, and the difference in his persona caused Leo to tense and wipe whatever expression had snuck onto his face into a safe blank. It felt like a message, but he had no idea what was being said. Harry seemed to notice the tension, asking “What’s wrong?”
“Well…” His voice was light and and his whole demeanour shifted back to the way he had been previously as he gestured towards Leo. Wait. Not towards him, towards the door.
Someone burst through the door next to him. Leo felt a sudden sense of deja vu.
The boy who bounced in had a mop of blond hair and a barely contained energy. He had barely entered the room before he started speaking, his American accent suggesting he wasn’t from this country. “Rook, Knight, things have escalated far more than Neal expected, I think we need to - wait, why are you looking at me like that?”
Black sighed dramatically. “For further reference Owen, undisclosed escalations related to my wedding delivered in the most dramatic tone is a recipe for hysterics, and you’re lucky I just got most of it out of my system over the past hour. Can’t you just handle it? Plus, we have a guest!”
Following their gaze to where Leo was sitting, Owen finally noticed they weren’t alone. Leo startled. That round face and accent… He knew this person from the alleys. Unfortunately for him, Owen couldn’t read his warning glance, and was already opening his mouth.
“Oh, your highness, sorry I didn’t see you there, but that’s even better, isn’t it?”
Black placed his head in his hands. “Owen!” He exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you that pureblood nobility isn’t the same as royalty? Anyway, this is Lionel Hurst, he’s here to marry Harry.”
“He’s what?” exclaimed Owen.
Pushing Archie’s head away from her, Harry uncurled from her position on the couch. “I’ll fill you in,” she promised Owen. “But first, I think Owen and I can handle whatever this is - you just need to handle getting married. Don’t worry, okay? I’ll tell you before I do anything stupid.”
Black smiled at her softly. “No, you won’t.”
“I’ll try not to do anything stupid, and I’ll tell you if you need to know about it.”
“Fine,” Black agreed, disgruntled, and then he swept out of the room muttering something about how he should stop tempting fate.
What an exciting day, and there hadn’t even been a fight yet.
—
And now it was Harry, Leo and Owen. For a moment it was just like it had been in the garden outside the building - Leo staring at her, her staring at him, both trying to figure out who was going to make the first move. Did he see through Archie’s dissembling? And how did Owen and Leo know each other?
Owen coughed and shifted uncomfortably. “Um, congratulations on getting married?” He said hesitantly.
“We… are probably not getting married,” said Harry. Owen looked very discombobulated. Harry commiserated. She also felt as though the world had turned upside down. “Nevermind that. Sorry Leo, maybe you can go now, I need to handle the wedding related emergency that Owen has.”
Owen blinked, and then frowned. “Can’t I just brief you both at once? After all, the Rogue also needs to know about this.”
And the pieces finally crashed into place.
Harry didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or to cry.
—
Fate has a funny way of working out sometimes.
In another world, a boy-king would meet a girl who would go to extreme lengths to study potions, and their slow friendship would develop into something more, with no secrets between them.
In this world, things go a little bit differently. He’s a bit harder, less trusting, and more lonely. She’s happier, more sheltered, and somehow just as secretive and self-sacrificing.
But well, maybe it could be uncomplicated.
Boy meets girl, they get married, and they fall in love (and maybe save the world, while they’re at it), in roughly that order. And they lived happily ever after - but that’s another story. For now…
—
“You’re telling me you became Rogue when you were 15?”
—
“I’m afraid to ask why you’re carrying a armory of potions.”
—
“Hey... Do you happen to have a knife?”
“How many do you need?”