Excentryke's Musings

Title: The Wicked Stepmother (12: The Truth Quill)

Author: excentrykemuse

Fandom(s): Harry Potter Series

Pairing(s): Harry/OMC (Lord Roman), James/Lily, (past) James/OFC (Maia)

Word Count: 6k

Rating: R

Warning(s): rape, age discrepancy (14/17)(15/28), abortion references, infidelity, incest, illegitimate children

Prompt: for FoccacciaBread: Lord Roman Malfoy is definitely intriguing! A story about him may be cool, especially if it involves the ever amazing Barty Crouch Jr

As a second son (and a fourth child), Lord Roman Malfoy had few prospects.  He had a trust fund, of course, that would support himself and presumably a wife for his lifetime, but he had no land.  He needed to marry an heiress.

Problem was, Lord Roman did not want an heiress.

His brother Lucius, Lord Malfoy had married a society lady of good stock, much beauty, and little dowry, and produced three children—a son and heir, Heir Draco Malfoy, and two daughters, Ladies Lacerta and Iolanthe.

His eldest sister, who was twenty-five years older than Lord Roman, had married a gentleman from a small estate, Mr. Halvard Kingsley.  She had one daughter, Lady Lux, who was older than Roman by a full five years.  Madeleine had ended up in Azkaban as a spy for the Dark Lord.  It was rumored that Lady Lux, too, was a spy, but it was never proven.  There were rumors of a marriage, but they were never substantiated.

Then of course there was Lady Aloysia, the second daughter and the third child.  Younger than Lucius by six years (and so the same approximate age as her niece Lux), Aloysia married the Dark Lord and had a beautiful daughter named Lady Magnolia.  Lord Roman remembered dancing at Aloysia’s wedding with the Dark Lord’s niece, Lady Maia, and enjoying himself.  He even danced with Madam Apricot Crouch before she died in childbirth.

This was, of course, before Lord Harrogate Gaunt was born.

Lord Roman remembered the rumors.  They involved Auror James Potter who was married to a Mudblood—by whom he already had a son.

He was, however, surprised when he was nearing his thirtieth birthday when his floo activated and one of the Dark Lord’s favorites appeared in his Parisian apartment.  Lord Roman was sitting in the kitchen, looking out over Paris, with a glass of wine in his hand. 

Of course, not being a Death Eater himself, Lord Roman rarely got involved in the Dark Lord’s affairs, but he did do the odd favor for Lucius.  However, it wasn’t Lucius who came through the floo.  It was Bartemius Crouch, Jr. 

“Lord Roman,” Barty Jr. greeted, his sandy hair falling into his grey eyes.

Standing, Lord Roman held out his hand and they shook hands.  “Bartemius, what can I do for you?”

“Well,” Barty Jr. said in an exaggerated manner, smiling.  “I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to glass of that wonderful wine you’re drinking.”

Lord Roman snapped his finger at the bottle, which stood up from where it was chilling and poured into a spare glass, which then floated into Barty Jr.’s waiting hand.  He took an appreciative sip of it.

“Much obliged.”

“Think nothing of it,” Lord Roman assured him.  “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Your name came up.”

That wasn’t at all surprising.  Lord Roman was a scion of a great house, he had no personal ties to anyone, he was able to get small tasks done unnoticed.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Well,” Barty Jr. said loudly.  “Lord Harrogate Gaunt, the Dark Lord’s nephew—”

“Yes, yes, I know of him,” Lord Roman agreed.  Who didn’t, after all?

“Well,” (exaggerated again) “his half-brother, swine of a Gryffindor as he is, has decided to stop listening to Potter, and try to attack Gaunt in the hallways of Hogwarts.  Now, Gaunt can take care of himself, but it’s getting all really tiresome.  We’re looking for blackmail material.”

Lord Roman considered his glass.  “I don’t even know this Gryffindor’s name.  Potter?”

“Jonathan Potter.”

“Shameful.”  Lord Roman finished his glass.  “Where does he live?”

“Godric’s Hollow.  Easter Hols begin day after tomorrow.”

“Consider it done.  To whom do I report?”

“Well,” (Lord Roman smiled) “Lord Harrogate if you so wish.  Me, otherwise.”

“I would not dream of putting your nose out of joint, Bartemius,” he sighed.  “If there is nothing else.”

Barty Jr. took the hint and left through the floo. 

It took less than an hour to do basic reconnaissance on the cottage in Godric’s Hollow.  It was white washed with a thatched roof.  Perfectly common.  Jonathan had the front bedroom, the girl Violet had the back bedroom.  Mr. and Mrs. Potter used the side bedroom.  It was all quite homely. 

He was across the lane when the Potters arrived the home. 

The first person he used legilimens on was James Potter, which was surprisingly easy for an Auror.  You’d think they’d be taught occlumency, but apparently the talent hadn’t stuck.  He saw James Potter meeting Lady Maia Gaunt, saw him courting her, saw—he blocked it out.  It was definitely line theft.  It was a wonder the Dark Lord hadn’t taken James Potter to court. 

James Potter didn’t love his wife.  He was obsessed with the idea of Lady Maia.  He often went to Little Hangleton to be close to her.  James Potter had essentially made Lady Maia a prisoner in her own home.

Weaving a spell or two inside James Potter’s head, he made it so that whenever he thought of Lady Maia, Lord Harrogate, or Little Hangleton, he became physically ill.  It was a slight suggestion spell, very difficult to spot.  It would progress slowly but naturally, getting stronger and stronger.

The next day he followed Jonathan into the Muggle side of Godric’s Hollow, where he met a Muggle girl named Cheryl.  That was certainly interesting, especially since Muggle contraceptives didn’t work on wizards.  Hadn’t anyone explained that to him?

He waited until Jonathan was gone before he approached the Muggle.  She was a sweet looking thing with blonde hair and blue eyes, a sweetheart face, petite but pleasant for a Muggle.  Lord Roman knew he cut quite the figure with platinum blond hair cut to the shoulders, violet eyes, and black clothing, styled to look Muggle.

“Sweet girl,” he murmured, taking her in.  “Who was that?”

“Who was who?” she asked with wide eyes.

“Did he ask you to lie about him?  What kind of boyfriend is that?”  Lord Roman looked at her pitifully.  “Your boyfriend should be proud to be seen with you, not messing about in the shrubberies with you, throwing condom wrappers here, there, and everywhere.”  He leaned down and picked one up to show her.  “You deserve better than that.”

She looked at him stoically for a long moment before her face crumpled. 

“Cheryl, Cheryl,” he cooed, coming up to her and wrapping an arm around her.  He carefully put the condom wrapper in his pocket.  “Talk to me.  What has this boy talked you into?”

“He’s the most wonderful person—in the world!” she warbled as he led her away from the bushes and toward the local pub.  “I’ve l-loved him since we were small children.”

“But can he love you?” Lord Roman asked her.  “Can he really if he treats you like this?—You deserve romance and rose petals—and an actual bed.  It can be comfortable in the bushes.”

“No,” she admitted.  “It really isn’t.”

He knew she was under eighteen, but he bought her a sherry at the local pub anyway, and he coaxed the whole story out of her.  Jonathan was seventeen and went to public school in Scotland, while she remained here in Godric’s Hollow during the year.  He would come home and make her jealous talking about all the other girls who wanted him, so she’d let him do what he wanted, even though she was only fourteen.  The age of consent was sixteen. 

Lord Roman thought about what to do next.  A good Muggle prosecution could be derailed by magic, but if they got the paperwork in early enough, there would be a computer trail. 

It was only three in the afternoon, so they went to the local police station, and Lord Roman supported Cheryl while she gave her statement.

“I saw him leave and discard the condom,” Lord Roman said, picking up the magically sealed and used condom he’d stolen out of Jonathan’s pocket before he’d met Cheryl.  “It’s disgusting—but she looked so young.”

“Huh.  DNA evidence,” the police officer said.  It was logged and Lord Roman was asked to leave the room so the officers could speak to Cheryl privately.  Only natural.  They would want to make sure Lord Roman was not involved.

Very little magic had been required to break the seal of silence surrounding Cheryl.

Now he needed Violet, possibly Lily, and Jonathan himself.

There was a great hullabaloo at the Cottage in Godric’s Hollow that night when Jonathan was arrested.  This was not blackmail material—Jonathan would be proud of his conquest of Cheryl—but this would be certainly messing with Jonathan Potter.  From what Lord Roman could tell through his omnioculors, Lily tried to use magic against the police, and Aurors had to be called in to obliviate the Muggles without interrupting their arrest.

Jonathan was safely in prison where Lord Roman knew exactly where to find him.

Violet was sitting on a log next to the stream that ran through Godric’s Hollow when Lord Roman came to find her.  She looked up at him suspiciously before noticing, “You’re a wizard, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re wearing all black.”

“Too true,” he agreed, sitting on the opposite end of the log.  “Tell me, how is it that Lord Harrogate Gaunt is born on 31 July and you’re born on 22 August of the same year?”

She looked at him through dark green eyes.  “What’s it to you?”

“Inquiring parties want to know.”

“What?  Were you sent by the Aurors?  Are they looking into Jonathan’s case?—because it’s all rubbish.”

Lord Roman just kept her steady gaze.

Violet deflated.  “If rumors are to be believed, and I don’t believe them, then Harry Gaunt is a Potter.  If he is a Potter, and I stress, if he is, his mother is clearly a dark witch who seduced my dad.  There was a conception date in October/November, and I was conceived that November.”  She shrugged.  “That’s all there is to it.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s not my brother.”

Leaning forward, Lord Roman held her dark green gaze steady.  “Why do you say that?  It might not help Jonathan, but you never know, with the case.”

“Well,” she admitted, “I wouldn’t fancy Harry the way I do if he were my brother.”

This certainly startled Lord Roman.  He practically leaned back he was so shocked.  “You fancy Lord Harrogate.”

“Yes.  I couldn’t if he were my brother.”

Well, she could.  Gaunts married other Gaunts, for instance, but Lord Roman was digressing.  This girl before him was absolutely maddening with her dark green eyes and strawberry blonde hair. 

“Does he fancy you back?”

Violet seemed to deflate.  “No.  I can’t get him to notice me no matter what I do.”

Well, that was something at least.  “What does your father say about Lord Harrogate?”

“He won’t.  Mum won’t say either.  She gets really cross about it, too.”

Lord Roman would get cross if he were in Lily Potter’s magical slippers.  It was only natural.  Still, he held his attention to Violet.  What a strange witch, fancying her own brother, and a half-blood, too.  He wondered if her father knew.

James Potter was next on the list.  Lord Roman had decided to circle back to him.

Lord Roman was sure to make an appointment at the Auror Department and posed as a correspondent for The Daily Prophet.  He technically had his credentials, so it was not that far of a wizard’s apparition, but he brought along a truth quill that would subtly make James be more likely to tell him what Lord Roman wanted to know.

“Did you know your son Jonathan was having an affair with an underage Muggle?” he opened with, quill in hand.  It was a light blue and complimented his deep purple robes.

“No,” Auror Potter admitted.  “I had no idea.  He liked the ladies, but that’s as far as I knew.”

“So you don’t approve?”

“No, of course not!” Potter said, a little strongly.  “Why would I approve of an underage relationship?”

“You do realize, that though illegal, they weren’t using wormwood, so young Miss Cheryl Waugh could be pregnant.”

Potter deflated, the quill clearly working on him.  It was obvious why such quills were illegal.  “I hadn’t realized.  We’ll deal with that when there is something to deal with.”

“You believe in magical abortion then?”  Loaded question.  Muggleborns engaged in magical abortion.  A magical child’s magic was sacred.  To kill a child in the womb was anathema and tantamount to murder.  To kill a child was to destroy magic.  No pureblood would do it.  No half-blood with any sense would do it.  Only the uneducated would think to do it—and they could only get it done in the Muggle world.

Potter looked up, shocked.  “Of course not!”

“Just checking,” Lord Roman told him, making a note.  At least Potter wasn’t a complete reprobate.  He paused a long moment.  “You have two sons, or so the rumors go.”

Looking at him carefully, Potter nodded. 

“How do you feel about the fact that Jonathan Potter constantly bullies Lord Harrogate Gaunt at Hogwarts and instigates duels more than once a week?”

“I am disappointed,” Potter admitted.  “I wouldn’t say that I’m surprised.”

“How do you feel about your second son growing up without a father?”

“He has a great-uncle.”  Potter was now looking away.

“You approve of the Dark Lord being a parental figure to your son.”

“He was a parental figure to Maia.  She came out no worse for magic.  I can only assume the same will be said for Harry.  I trust in Maia’s good judgment.”

Carefully, Lord Roman leaned forward.  “Are you in love with Lady Maia—or Lily Potter—or neither?”

Potter barked a laugh.  “What a question.  I’ve obviously made my decision.”

“Yes, but if you were to examine your heart—”

At first Potter didn’t answer, and Lord Roman wondered if the quill was strong enough to get him to answer.  It was, after all, a highly personal question.  He had, when Lady Maia was still a seventh year, lured her to Harrogate in Yorkshire and forced himself upon her in a Muggle hotel room.  Those close to the Dark Lord knew what happened next.  She had skewered him with her wand, causing a near fatal injury, fled to Riddle House, and then six days later conceived Harrogate, her vined ring punishing her and causing her to fall into a coma for three years.

She hadn’t woken up until Harrogate was a toddler.  The Dark Lord, confused as to what to name the child, had named him Harrogate because there was a flyer to a hotel in Lady Maia’s purse.

Potter shifted, bringing Lord Roman back to himself.  “Maia, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Lord Roman answered, making a note.

It seemed like Potter wasn’t getting ill yet at the topics of Lady Maia or Lord Harrogate.  The suggestion spell hadn’t taken effect.  Maybe in another week or two.

Lord Roman posed as a reporter for The Daily Prophet once again to see Dr. Lily Potter who worked at the Cornwall University for Magic. 

“How is your family holding up, Dr. Potter?” Lord Roman asked solicitously, taking out his truth quill.

She eyed it suspiciously.  Lord Roman knew she couldn’t prove anything. 

“We’re all holding up as best we can,” she answered, turning in her seat.  “It all came as a shock to us.”

“Did Jonathan have a girlfriend at Hogwarts?” he opened with.

“Yes, Ginny Weasley, a fourth year.—I know what you’re thinking, but I checked with Ginny and they weren’t sleeping together.  Their relationship was perfectly innocent.”

Lord Roman doubted it, but he didn’t question her.  Taking down a note, he asked, “So he was cheating on Ginny when he came down to Godric’s Hollow for Easter Hols?”

“Cheating, no.  He and Ginny were on a break.”

“But Cheryl told me she saw Jonathan over Winter Hols,” he explained, looking up with his violet eyes.  “This was an ongoing relationship.  Either he kept on breaking up with Ginny Weasley or he had two simultaneous girlfriends, one in the wizarding world, or one in the Muggle.”

Lily pursed her lips.  “Do you have a point?”

“Perhaps we should be asking for other girls to be coming forward.”

“I really don’t think, Mr. Malfoy—”

“Lord Roman—”

“That that’s appropriate.”

Lord Roman changed tactics.  “There have been allegations of bullying at Hogwarts.”

“Allegations only,” Lily asserted.

“Specifically against Slytherins and Lord Harrogate Gaunt who, as you know, is rumored to be Jonathan’s younger half-brother.  Do you have any comment on that subject?”

“He should learn to take care of himself.”  Her eyes flashed green.

“So he is Jonathan’s younger half-brother.”

“I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

They stared at each other.

“My husband was seduced—”

“Are you sure he wasn’t the one who was doing the seducing?”

Lily glared at him.  “My husband was seduced by a dark witch.  She got what she wanted out of him, a son and heir.  There’s nothing else that needs to be said about Harry Gaunt.”

“Do you misnomer everyone you don’t like?” Lord Roman asked in frustration as his quill continued to take notes.  “Mr. Malfoy, Harry Gaunt.   I’m seeing a pattern here.”

“Only Slytherins.”

“I was in Ravenclaw, Dr. Potter.”

She looked as if she’d been slapped.

His pen continued to take notes.  “I think I’ve gotten everything.  Thank you, Dr. Potter.”  He stood gracefully and packed up his quill and parchment, nodding to her respectfully, although she honestly didn’t deserve it.

Getting an interview with Ginny Weasley was more difficult.  The Malfoys and the Weasleys were not fond of one another.  It went back generations and Arthur Weasley and Lucius snapped at each other whenever they got a chance to in public.

Still, with his charm and his credentials, he managed it.

He was admitted to the ramshackle of a Weasley house the following Saturday where Mrs. Weasley was kind enough to serve him tea.

Ginny Weasley was a pretty little thing with ginger hair, brown eyes, and freckles.  She was nothing like Cheryl Waugh.  Where Cheryl looked like a girl you’d dress up like a doll, Ginny was clearly a Quidditch enthusiast and even was on the Gryffindor team this year as Seeker.

“Ginny,” Lord Roman began, smiling as the truth quill took notes, “you have such a lovely name.  What’s it short for?”

The girl made a face.  “Ginevra.  I absolutely hate it.”

Ah, Ginevra.  It was the Italian form of Guinevere, which was from the original Welsh for “white, fair.”  Guinevere was the legendary queen of King Arthur.  She had been named for her father then, Arthur Weasley.  Frankly, there was nothing queenly about the girl.

“Perhaps you’ll grow into it,” he suggested, “but Ginny suits you well.—How long have you been going with Jonathan Potter?”

“We don’t ‘go’ in Gryffindor.  We ‘date’.”  Her brown eyes were wide.

“Even purebloods like yourself?”

“Jonathan’s not a pureblood.”

“His father, Auror Potter, is.”

“Dr. Potter wouldn’t allow it.”  She said this so forcefully that Mrs. Weasley looked up from where she was cutting potatoes on the other side of the room.

Lord Roman only smiled at Ginny, ignoring the mother.  “How long have you and Jonathan been seeing each other?”

“Since the beginning of the school year.  He asked me out right after the first practice.  He’s Quidditch Captain you know.”

“And he gave you your spot—”

“I earned my spot—”

“Of course, you did,” Lord Roman soothed, glancing at his quill.  It underlined sexual favors.  “I would never suggest otherwise.  “Did you take a break for Easter Hols?”

“No,” she stated firmly, pushing her ginger hair over her shoulder.  “I don’t know what happened—why he would—I gave him everything he wanted.”  This she said so softly that Lord Roman could barely hear it.

“Ginny,” he murmured, leaning forward.  “Are you on wormwood?”

Her brown eyes flashed up in fear. 

“I’m not asking for the interview.  I’m asking for your health.”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, her eyes darting to the left.  “I—I’m not pregnant.”

That was one thing, then.  Hopefully, this little idiot knew the signs and could plan accordingly.  She was only fourteen.  Lord Roman would hate to see the girl go the way of her mother—seven children!  It was preposterous.

“So Jonathan cheated on you,” Lord Roman asked, a little louder this time.  “You were in an exclusive relationship.”

“Yes,” she answered.  “It was him and me.  He said we’d last after he left Hogwarts.  Obviously he was lying.”

Lord Roman paused.  “Do you know why he was constantly attacking a certain Slytherin student a year above you?—”

“Harry Gaunt?” she asked, waving it off.  “Jonathan hates Gaunt.  Never said why.  Said he was a rotten egg.  Apparently when he was sorted, Jonathan was so relieved he wasn’t in Gryffindor (as if a Gaunt would be in Gryffindor) he nearly fainted.  I don’t know the story behind that.”

“But there is animosity.”

“Yes,” she agreed.  “Haven’t the faintest, though.  Gaunt seems perfectly friendly for a Slytherin.”

Good.  That was finished.  Lord Roman now had a report to write.

He sent the Dark Lord an owl later that evening, asking for an audience with Lord Harrogate, not seeing the point of a middle man.  When he flooed into Riddle House it was to a great deal of Death Eater activity, but he was shown into a small study where a tall young man with dark messy hair, ocean blue eyes, and glasses was waiting for him.

“Lord Roman,” he greeted, holding out his hand.

“Lord Harrogate, I’m afraid I didn’t quite set out to do what I meant to.”

“Yes, you made all of Jonathan’s secrets public.”  He laughed a little.

Lord Roman grimaced.  “If you saw what he was doing to that poor Muggle, I’m sure you’d empathize with my choices.  I couldn’t let him continue to abuse her in that way, even if she is just a Muggle.”

Lord Harrogate looked up at him with his startling blue eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“These are my reports,” Lord Roman told him, taking out a couple of sheets of parchment.  “As you can see, the only blackmail material I have is on Violet, who—in her own words—fancies you.”

Lord Harrogate looked up, shocked.

“That’s what I thought,” Lord Roman agreed. 

Making a motion for him to continue, Lord Harrogate urged him onward.

“I placed a suggestion spell on Auror Potter.  He should start getting sick whenever he thinks of you, your mother, or Little Hangleton.  That should hopefully stop his stalking.  Your stepmother is bigoted, which I’m sure you could have guessed.  Jonathan is a predator, which you’ve seen in the papers.  He’s behind Muggle bars, for now.”

“Yes,” Lord Harrogate agreed, looking over the reports.  “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”  Lord Roman looked Harrogate over with a practiced eye and liked what he saw.  Lord Harrogate was, indeed, young, but he would grow up.  He was handsome.  He was self-assured, and if he didn’t care about heirs, then he would be perfect, although he was wearing the Gaunt signet ring on his right pinkie.  “Is it true what they say?” Lord Roman asked after another moment.  “That Gaunts marry other Gaunts?”

“My mother did not marry my Uncle Marvolo,” Lord Harrogate answered him without looking up.  “You of all people should know that.”

That, of course, was true.  The Dark Lord had married Lord Roman’s older sister, Lady Aloysia. 

“I meant this generation,” Lord Roman delicately tried again.  “My niece, Lady Magnolia, has Gaunt blood.”

Lord Harrogate looked up with ocean blue eyes.  “My mother has assured me I need not marry another Gaunt if I so choose.—so long as I carry on the Gaunt name.”

There was the sticking point.  “Indeed?  Surely the new magics can take care of such needs for you.”

Looking up at him, Lord Harrogate’s eyes were arresting.  “You mean the surrogacy magics?”

“Quite so.”

Lord Harrogate looked him up and down.  “Am I understanding your meaning correctly, Lord Roman?”

“If you were inclined to accept my invitation to The Wicked Stepmother tomorrow afternoon, then yes, you understand me completely.”  Lord Roman boldly looked over at him.  “If your kind mother were to allow it, of course.”  He glanced down at the ivory vined ring that encapsulated Lord Harrogate’s left middle finger.  They were utterly useless when they came to male friendships.  He’d known his own ring, of diamonds and onyxes, would be simply costume jewelry when he had it sung on when he was fifteen years old.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Lord Harrogate suggested.

“Is she here?  Now?  They say she’s in seclusion.”

“True,” Lord Harrogate agreed, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t see Death Eaters or allies.  “She’s probably in one of the sitting rooms.—Loxie!”  A little house elf with big ears and spindly hands popped into the room.  “Show Lord Roman to my mother.  He has a question for her.”  Then, turning back to Roman, he said, “Arrange it all with her.”

Ah, Lord Harrogate was rather old fashioned then.  He left matchmaking to his mother.  Lord Roman could respect that. 

Lady Maia was indeed in one of the sitting rooms, working on a tapestry.  She was just as Lord Roman remembered her, with dishwater blonde hair and startling blue eyes, a kind face, and a tall frame.  However, the veins on the left side of her face and neck as well as her hand were scarred black, causing her to look like a horrific parody of herself.

“Lady Maia,” he greeted, coming up to her and accepting her hand before kissing her lightly on both cheeks.  “I haven’t seen you in over a decade.”

“I’ve been here, Lord Roman,” she told him with a smile.  “I know you’re not a Death Eater.  What brings you to Riddle House?”

“Your son,” he answered truthfully.  “I’m responsible for the mess with Jonathan Potter.”

“Oh dear,” she murmured.  “That did bring me such amusement.  Bravo, my friend.”  She leaned in with twinkling eyes.  “I do so like to pain Auror Potter if at all possible.”

“I’ve put a compulsion spell on him.  In the next few weeks, he should find that when he thinks of you, Lord Harrogate, or Little Hangleton, he finds himself physically unwell.”  He smirked at her.

This made her laugh.  “How marvelous!” she crowed.  “How absolutely wonderful!  I wish Uncle Marvolo had done that to him years ago.”  The scarred side of her face glistened in the candlelight of the room.

When they had stopped laughing together, Lord Roman turned to her.  “I have something to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“When I came to give my reports to Lord Harrogate—”

“Such a lovely boy, isn’t he?” Lady Maia asked.

“That’s just it, I find him lovely.”

Lady Maia stilled.

“I asked him to The Wicked Stepmother and he said I had to apply to you.”

Lady Maia paused, thinking.  “Not many people know this, but Harrogate is the Dark Lord’s heir.  Not Magnolia, much that he loves her, but Harrogate.  He is my uncle’s Lieutenant.  He’s studies dark magic and battle strategy when he’s home.”

“Is that what you want for him?” Lord Roman asked carefully.

Lady Maia turned away, only the good side of her face showing.  “When I held him as a baby, I wished to protect him from harm.  I know I can’t do that anymore.—But Harrogate sent you to me.  That means he’s not adverse to the idea.  Tell me, knowing what you know now, are you serious about my son?  Are you willing to be consort to the second most powerful man Britain’s seen since Merlin?”

Taking both her hands in his, Lord Roman looked down at the scars on the left with perfectly manicured nails and thought for a long moment.  “I knew he was the Dark Lord’s nephew.  I knew he was important in the war.  Now I know just how much.  Thank you for telling me, Maia.  It’s better to know now than to be surprised later on.”  (She turned and looked at him.) “It doesn’t make a difference.”

“Then, if you’re serious, you’re proposing the new surrogacy spells.  The witch would most likely be a Death Eater’s wife or daughter.  The Dark Lord may be the one to choose.  It may even be Magnolia.  That may be the only way Uncle Marvolo gets his ideal match.”

He took a deep breath.  “If it’s Magnolia, she’s my niece.  She’s blood of my blood.  I can think of no one more suitable.”

“Well, then,” Lady Maia decided, looking at him with the ocean blue eyes of her son, “I have no objections.  Now, Harrogate goes to Hogwarts day after next so it will have to be tomorrow.  I will write to The Wicked Stepmother and get you a table for about three in the afternoon.  I will owl to confirm.  You will be photographed leaving together if you wish to go on a second marriage date, otherwise Harrogate will leave by floo.  Does this sound suitable?”

“Entirely,” he agreed with a smile.  “Only, send your answer through the floo because I live in Paris.”  He took out a card from the inside of his robes.  “The owl might not get there in time.”

“Paris,” Lady Maia sighed.  “How heavenly.  You shall have to invite me and Harrogate sometime.”

“I certainly shall, Maia.”

He kissed her cheeks in farewell and forced himself not to seek out Lord Harrogate because he understood the rules that Lord Harrogate had put in place for their courtship.  Lord Harrogate wanted a formal courtship where they wouldn’t see each other outside of marriage dates and everything would be decided between the parents of the two suited (Lord Roman, being twenty-eight years old, could speak for himself—he didn’t need his brother Lucius speaking on his behalf).

He flooed home to Paris.  He didn’t have long to wait.  The maître d’ himself floo called and confirmed his ‘table for two’ at three o’clock the next day under the name “Gaunt.”  He was informed someone else had to be bumped to three thirty, not that Roman cared.  His name got him nearly everywhere, and the Gaunt name certainly got Lord Harrogate everywhere he wanted to go, as well.

Of course, Lord Roman had never been on a marriage date.  He’d declined all of his parents’ attempts when he was a young man.  He’d had an affair with a half-blood in his early twenties, but he hadn’t upheld pureblood culture.  The wizard was now married with a child.  Lord Roman forgot about him most of the time.

It took Lord Roman an embarrassingly long time to choose his robes.  He eventually settled on a light teal with grass green stitching in acramantula thread.   

He was prompt and was glad he was first.  He got to see Lord Harrogate walk toward him in dark blue robes in a light linen and he nearly took Lord Roman’s breath away. 

When Lord Harrogate sat down he glanced at his plate and then looked up again.  “What?”

“It’s a courting gift.”

“But I’m a wizard.”

“What does that matter?” Lord Roman asked as he leaned forward.  “You are deserving of a full courtship.”

Lord Harrogate’s eyes flicked down and then back up to Lord Roman’s violet eyes.  He carefully picked up the box, undid the ribbon, and then opened the lid.  Inside was a truth quill.

“I find this little quill quite useful.  It writes on its own and has a spell on it to encourage the person you’re speaking to to be truthful.”  He smiled.  “I’m sure you might find yourself with recalcitrant” and here he whispered, “Death Eaters—and this will help with that.”

“Is that how you got Ginny to admit she was not on wormwood but not pregnant?” He grinned.

“Yes,” he agreed.  “I hope this proves useful, even if you don’t have use for it for a couple of years.”

Lord Harrogate looked up with his arresting blue eyes.  “Thank you, Lord Roman,” he said sincerely.  He put the top back over the quill and badly made up the bow before putting the box aside. 

“My pleasure.—Now, what is your favorite tea?”

Lord Harrogate let out a carefree laugh.  For two hours he was just a young wizard out having fun with a suitor.  He wasn’t the Dark Lord’s nephew or his heir.  He was just someone who was admired, and Lord Roman could give him that. 

“I want to live somewhere else,” Lord Harrogate admitted.  “Maybe somewhere in Little Hangleton, but not in the main house.  There’s no privacy.  Right now, we’re three generations, all living on top of each other.”

Lord Roman leaned forward on his hand.  “All my brothers and sisters were born so far apart that we were never on top of each other,” he admitted.  “Madeleine has a daughter who is older than I am.  Lux is gone now.”

Starting, Lord Harrogate looked at him.  “Lady Lux Kingsley?  She’s my godmother.”

“She’s my niece,” Lord Roman told him.  “She unfortunately committed suicide after her husband, Heir Sirius, was locked up in Azkaban and her daughter Imogen was murdered by Muggles.”

“Sirius is out, they say,” Lord Harrogate admitted.  “He’s not with us, though.  Uncle Marvolo said he was never a Death Eater even though The Daily Prophet reported he was Uncle Marvolo’s Number Two.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Lord Roman admitted, “I have no idea.  I was never close to Lux.  Lucius was.”

“Funny to think you’re Uncle Lucius’s little brother,” Lord Harrogate teased.  “You’ve never been around all these years.”

“I’ve been at Hogwarts when you were a child, then in Paris,” Lord Roman told him.  “Our paths just never crossed.  The Dark Lord occasionally uses me.  I was used for your little problem.”

“And put my brother in Muggle jail.  He’s out on bail.”

“Oh dear,” Lord Roman admitted.  “I suppose he’ll get to finish his final year at Hogwarts.”

“Just.  He’ll take his final examination and then go back to court.”  He took another sip of his tea.  “I hope he doesn’t beat it.  I’m sure it’s not a long sentence, but hopefully this will keep him from becoming an Auror—which, from what I gather, is his dream.”

“I don’t know if Muggle convictions bar you from working for the Ministry.  I can look into that.”  He looked into Lord Harrogate’s dark blue eyes. 

A little timer went off at their table, meaning they had fifteen minutes to vacate it.

Lord Harrogate snatched one more shortbread and Lord Roman poured him the last of the tea.  Lord Harrogate nodded to him in thanks and they were soon walking out, hand in hand.  When they came to the front door, Lord Roman asked, “Do you want to do this?  There will be a camera.”

“I know,” Lord Harrogate agreed.  “Mother told me.”

“All right then,” Lord Roman agreed, squeezing Lord Harrogate’s hand, and walking out the door.

The End.