Chaste

When Hermione and Ron arrived at his house that evening, Harry’s stomach was working through a gymnastic routine of twists and dread. He paced his living room for close to an hour before his fire flashed green and Hermione stepped out of the flames, brushing soot from her robes and wearing a pre-emptively disapproving look. 

“Are you okay, Harry?”

The fireplace flashed again, and Ron stepped from the hearth with a grunt.

“Whassup Harry? We just got your message.”

“We came right over,” Hermione explained. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s a bit complicated, ‘Mione, come and sit down.”

“What’s going on?” Ron thumped down into Harry’s green armchair while Hermione perched on his brown leather couch. 

Taking a seat in the squashy blue armchair opposite Ron, Harry braced his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. 

“The thing is, I accidentally activated a chastity belt.”

Ron let out a shocked laugh, “Well done, mate. On who?”

Hermione looked confused. “A what? Not that old custom with the burning spells?”

“Err. Yes, Hermione. Unfortunately.”

“Oh Harry! Those are so dangerous! How could you be so careless! Who is it? Is she okay?”

“It’s err - it’s um. It’s me.” Harry touched the charm at his neck, and felt heat prickle the back of his neck.

Hermione gasped, and Ron paled visibly. “Oh shit.”

“But surely, Harry, there’s some way to disable it?” Hermione was leaning closer, staring at the charm as if it were a second head growing from Harry’s throat. 

“It doesn’t seem like it. I’ve tried a few things that Dr- um - people suggested, and I did some reading, but it’s really old, and apparently the custom has died out so much that the texts from the old families have all been lost or destroyed.”

“This is precisely why I’ve been advocating for secure archives with updated ledgers to be incorporated into the Wizarding Artefacts Review Process!”

“Alright, Hermione, let’s not start on WARP. Harry has bigger issues than your library plans.”

“Not a library, Ronald, an archive. One with a systematic layout and a properly recorded list of everything there.”

“Anyway. Harry, you’d best talk to mum.”

Harry and Hermione both blinked at him. 

“To - to Molly?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Harry needs a wife, and mum’s always saying she knows a nice witch for him.”

“Ronald! You can’t expect Harry to marry someone your mother picks out for him!”

“No, but she could introduce him at least.”

Hermione angled herself toward Harry and put a comforting hand on his knee. “Don’t worry, Harry, we will find you someone. There are some lovely girls in my department that have been begging to meet you for ages.”

“I’ve err- I’ve already found someone.” Harry blurted.

“You have? Who?”

“That’s great, mate. Is it Jensen? I knew you two would hit it off ever since she hexed Gordon Milton in that non-destructive combat training.”

“Err. No. It’s not Amelie.”

Ron and Hermione just looked at him, and in the sudden silence Harry felt his mouth dry up and his stomach lurch alarmingly. 

“It’s - It’s someone that you know, and I - I think you like, and um. And I’ve invited him.”

“Him?”

“Him. For dinner. Here. Um. Tonight.”

Hermione’s eyebrows creased in concern. “Harry, I didn’t realise. You should have said you preferred wizards. Who is it?”

“I didn’t know, exactly,” Harry stammered, wishing Hermione hadn’t focused on that detail which had derailed his prepared line to introduce the identity of his - fiancé?

“Fuck, mate. What are you going to tell Draco when you can’t work?”

“Erm. Well, yes. I mean - “

“Draco? Ronald, I’m sure there are more urgent matters on Harry’s mind just now than his work obligations. Go ahead, Harry, who is it?”

Thankfully, three sharp raps on the door saved Harry from answering, and Harry cast a fleeting prayer of thanks to which deity was responsible for Draco’s sense of punctuality.