Title: Brave New World

Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Beta: Kamerreon
Warnings: Slash. Mentions of Child Abandonment. Holy Water as a means of Exorcism. Pre-Lemon.
Summary: The Dursleys leave Harry at a local orphanage when they find him on their doorstep with
the magical community none the wiser. Ten years later, Harry appears across the street, watching
their house on his eleventh birthday, wishing for a family and finds an unconventional one in Piers
Polkiss. Told through the summers. Romance. Harry/Piers Polkiss. Hufflepuff!Harry. Response to
Kamerreon's Rare Slash Pairing Alphabet Challenge.
Textual Note: "Brave New World" is a quote from Act V, Scene I of Shakespeare's The Tempest.
Miranda, a girl who has grown up on a secluded island with only her father and their slave, speaks
of going to a brave new world as she is about the leave the island for the first time with her new
husband, a prince whose ship was marooned through her father's magic on the island.
It also served as the title of Aldous Huxley's novel. The savage John quotes it when about to enter a
society a dystopian world that ultimately destroys him.
Brave New World
Before the Philosopher's Stone
On 31 July, 1991 a small, impeccably dressed boy stood outside of number four, Privet Drive. His
bright green eyes shone in the morning fog and he stood there, almost as if time would pass him by,
and gazed at the front door. His ruffled black hair fell across his thin rectangular-shaped glasses, his
hands shoved within his trouser pockets. He clearly looked like he came from money. Although thin,
he had a healthy complexion and looked well-fed.
The door to the house opened and he watched as a woman with a long neck and horse-like face
leaned out and picked up the morning milk. She glanced up at him and stared, a haunted look in her
eyes, before she quickly shut the door again.
Still, the boy waited barely moving from his position against the brick wall.
Movement flickered behind the windows and the boy only blinked occasionally. He watched as a large
boy came bounding into the kitchen and demanded something of the horsy woman. Her response was
a bright smile and heaping his plate full of eggs and bacon.
Cars drove past and the boy noticed that another boy was making his way toward him. He had dark
brown hair and a rather pointed face, almost rat-like in appearance, and he smiled at the stranger
despite himself.
"Hello," the new boy greeted, following his gaze. "Are you a friend of Dudley's?"
The boy shook his head. "Who's Dudley?"
"Dudley Dursley," he responded, tilting his head toward the house behind him.
"Oh. No. I should have, though."
"What?" the boy asked.
The boy sighed. "He's my cousin. Theythe Dursleysdecided to leave me at an orphanage when my
parents died."
The other boy's eyebrows rose into his hairline. "I didn't know he even had a cousin," he whispered
before turning and looking through the window. Dudley was staring curiously back at them, a hungry
look in his eye. He shook his head. "I'm his best friend and I didn't even know." He looked curiously
at the well-dressed boy. "Piers Polkiss," he introduced himself, offering his hand. "Dudley's ex-best
friend."
The boy looked startled but then hesitantly smiled back. Grasping the proffered hand, he
whispered, "Harry. Harry Potter."
Piers smiled again. "Why are you here then?"
"It's my birthday and I was told to make myself scarce while my friends set up a surprise party for
me."
Piers laughed. "Well, good luck with thatand happy birthday."
"Thank you," was the small reply before Harry looked through the window again. He sighed.
"Where do you live, then? Near here?"
"Yes. At Saint Jerome Emiliani's in Whinging."
Piers whistled. "Fancy place."
"Yes," Harry smiled. "It's nice. The nuns and priests are kind. I like living there."
Piers stepped closer and jumped up on the wall, his legs swinging. "Then why are you here then,
Harry?"
Harry looked down. "I just wanted a familyjust for a day."
The boys became silent as they both watched the house.

"Where are you going to secondary then?" Piers inquired. "You're about my age, right? Eleven?"
Harry nodded. "A place up in Scotland. My parents put me down after I was born. I'm going shopping
for supplies tomorrow or the next day."
"Hmm. I'm off to Smeltings. So is Dudley, actually." He paused. "You don't need them, Harry.
They're so obsessed with Dudley, that they'd probably forget you were there. You're much better off
elsewhere."
"Yes, I guess I am," Harry agreed.
"And anyway, I'll be your family when we grow up," Piers promised. "We can get married and we can
buy a house."
Harry looked over at him, startled, and blushed. "Really?"
"Yes, of course," he answered, nodding.
"But two boys can't get married," Harry insisted, his eyebrows furrowed. "Isn't it wrong? I think
Sister Anne said it was wrong when she caught Matthew and Geoff in a closet together. They were
punished."
Piers looked at him, confused. "No, it's not wrong. Dad has a boyfriend and my parents told me
that they love each other very much. He's nice and everything. I spend my weekends with Dad and
Stephen. They're practically married."
Harry looked away, blushing even deeper.
"Unless you don't want to"
"I didn't say that," Harry said quickly, looking down at his hands. "I've always wanted a family,
someone to marry." He looked up boldly. "You're prettier than the girls at the orphanage."
Piers bit his bottom lip but smiled. "You're pretty, too." He reached up and brushed Harry's fringe
away but frowned when he saw the angry scar on Harry's head. "Did someone hurt you?" he asked,
frowning.
Harry looked at him confused. "N-no. Everyone's nice at the orphanage."
"Why do you have a scar then?"
"Oh," Harry said. "I got it in the car crash that killed my parents."
"I'm sorry."
"Did you mean it?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Of course, I am sorry about your"
"Not about thatabout wanting to marry me when we grow up."
Piers looked slightly affronted. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't mean it. I don't like divorce." He
shook his head from experience. "It's messy."
"We can't tell the nuns or the brothers," Harry whispered after a moment.
Piers nodded emphatically. "My lips are sealed. It will be our secret until we get older. I wouldn't even
tell Dudley if we were still friends."
They both looked at the house and noticed that Dudley was still looking at them through the window.
His mother was giving him yet another plate of eggs and toast. Harry briefly wondered how much the
boy actually ate. He was huge! He must have got it from his father's side. Harry, although well fed,
was still thin and he was almost certain his mother and Mrs. Dursley were sisters.
"Harry James Polkiss," he mused aloud. "Or would you be Piers Potter?"
"I like Harry Polkiss." His face scrunched up in thought, making it more rat-like, though Harry found it
adorable for some reason. "Stephen didn't take the name Polkiss though."
"They're not really married though, right?" Harry questioned softly.
Piers shook his head. "No. You can't get married to another boynot yet."
Harry's face fell. "I don't want to live in sin."
"It wouldn't be sin," Piers corrected, clearly quoting an adult. "Love is not a sin when you're devoted
to your husband. Dad and Stephen go to church and everything. They take me."
"Where?"
"Saint Jerome's, actually."
Harry smiled brightly. "I go there too. I'm in the choir. We've probably seen each other without even
realizing it."
"It must be fate," Piers said importantly.
A door opened and Dudley waddled out the door looking at them. He was large and had blond hair and
striking blue eyes. He almost looked the exact opposite of Harry. "Piers?" he called. "Why are you still
outside? Mum's made breakfast and everything." He looked waspishly at Harry, who only looked away.
"Can't," Piers answered. "It's Harry's birthday."
Dudley pulled a face. "Mum said he's been out here for hours."
Harry blushed.

"Free country," Piers replied insolently.

Harry looked down at his watch. "I should probably get back. Party starts in about an hour. Want to
come?" he asked shyly.
Piers smiled brightly. "Yes."
Without even a wave to his former friend, the two boys left Privet Drive, walking closely beside each
other, fingers brushing up against fingers.
Before the Chamber of Secrets
Piers leaned against a wall near platform ten at King's Cross Station, waiting for Harry to appear. It
had been almost a year since they had last seen each other, and it had been far too long in Piers's
opinion. Within just the month of August of the previous summer, he had become attached to his
fianc and the two were rarely seen without the other one in tow.
His mother had been worried at first, especially when she saw how closely they would sit next to each
other or how they always appeared to be whispering. Piers's father had smiled at his son when Piers
had first pointed Harry out in the choir, and Piers had even secretly told him that they were going to
get married one day.
The nuns absolutely adored Piers. He would often bring his mother's homemade cookies to the
orphanage when he visited and became more active in the churchsince he knew it was a way to see
Harry.
They called Harry their "little minister" and even talked about how he might take orders after he
graduated from the "elite school up North."
When Piers had told his father and Stephen, they had laughed quietly. Piers hadn't understood what
was so funny about the thought of his fianc having to live with a bunch of other priests.
Harry had soon set him right, however, and they had corresponded often during the school year.
Harry actually had a trained owl that would bring him letters and Piers had taken to keeping dog
biscuits in his room for whenever Hedwig would visitusually every Tuesday. He thought it odd that
Harry just didn't send him letters in the post like any other person would, but if Harry wanted to use
an owl and heavy paper, then that was fine by him.
"Piers!" a happy voice called out and Piers turned to see Harry rushing toward him, his trunk and
caged owl in a trolley he was pushing.
"I didn't see a train come in," he muttered, confused.
"It came on a different track, sorry," Harry quickly said, pulling the other boy into a hug and holding
him. "You've grown."
Piers held Harry close and buried his head in Harry's shoulder. "So have you." He pulled away and
drank in Harry's form. "Nice tie," he remarked, flicking the yellow and black length of cloth.
"Thanks," Harry mumbled. "House colors."
Piers nodded. "We don't have houses at Smeltings. Come on, Dad and Stephen are waiting in the car."
"Alright." Harry turned the trolley around and began walking out of the station.
"I have a surprise for you," Piers announced when they finally entered the back seat of the car.
Stephen was in the passenger's seat and he was watching them closely through the rearview mirror.
Piers, however, didn't pay attention.
"Really?" Harry asked, excited.
"Do you want it now?" Piers teased.
Harry nodded enthusiastically and shifted in his seat.
Stephen smiled secretly and handed a small, pale blue-green bag back to Piers. The words 'Tiffany &
Co.' were written across it in white and Harry's eyes widened. "He's been saving up his allowance for a
whole year," Stephen explained and Piers's father chuckled.
"Never saw a kid so determined in my life."
"I-isn't that jewelry?" Harry asked, his voice rising to a squeak.
"Yes," Piers answered before drawing out two small boxes, each wrapped in a white ribbon. "I should
have done this when we got engaged"
"Piers," Harry hissed, glancing worriedly at the adults in the front of the car.
"We won't tell anyone, Harry," Stephen assured him as he turned to look at the boy that had captured
his stepson's fancy. "Piers only told us because he needed us to take him to Tiffany's earlier this
month. Your secret is safe with us."
Piers relaxed at the explanation and Harry looked chastened.
"I'm sorry, Piers."
He smiled. "It's alright." They looked intently at each other and Piers reached out and entwined his
fingers with Harry's. "Now, do you want your surprise?"
Harry nodded hesitantly before turning his gaze back to the two boxes.

"Well, normally you get rings when you get engaged, well, the girl does." He huffed. "Anyway, we're
both boys, so I thought we could both have ringsand the sisters would never know," he amended
when he saw the wary look in Harry's eyes. He swallowed.
Harry stared at him for a moment before smiling slightly. "Alright."
Piers let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "I guessed your size," he said
quietly, "and I hope you don't mind silver." He opened the first small box and took out a two
interlocking silver rings. "I hope you like it."
Harry's heart melted and he held out his left hand. "It's beautiful, Piers," he breathed.
"You're beautiful, Harry," he murmured, low enough so his father and stepfather couldn't hear him.
Harry blushed and watched as Piers slid it onto his middle finger.
"Shouldn't it be the fourth finger?"
"Normally, yes, but I thought the nuns might get suspicious, so I thought the third might be okay.
When we grow they should be the right size for the other fingers. That's why they're slightly loose
now, too." He examined Harry's hand. "Oh good, it fits."
Harry brought his hand up to his face and stared intently at it.
Piers's father cleared his throat. "In Roman times, the third finger was used as well. They thought a
vein connected it directly to the heart, Harry."
He smiled. "What does yours look like, Piers?"
"The same," he said quickly. "I wanted to match."
He picked up the second box, which had a little 'P' written on the side to help him differentiate, but
Harry quickly took it from his hand. "Let me. I want to do this right." He untied the ribbon and handed
it to Piers, a small smile playing on his lips, before taking off the lid and lifting the smaller jewelry box.
Taking out the ring, he took Piers's left hand in his and slid it onto his finger.
Piers smiled brightly and leaned his forehead against Harry's. It had been far too long since they had
seen one another. "Love you," he whispered for the first time, and Harry blushed again.
"I love you, too, Piers," he responded quietly.
Neither of them noticed two sets of eyes watching them through the rearview mirror.
Before the Prisoner of Azkaban
Piers quivered in suppressed rage as he held Harry against him, his fianc's back pressed against his
chest. Their engagement rings still remained on their hands, dulled slightly as neither had taken them
off for an entire year, and their fingers were interlocked.
"That is not an ordinary dog bite, Harry," he insisted as he traced a scar on Harry's shoulder. It was
a warm Saturday evening and Harry had been permitted to sleep over Piers's house. They were both
dressed in only pajama bottoms, sitting on top of Piers's bed, although Harry technically was supposed
to be using the sleeping bag on the floor.
Harry bit his lip and looked away.
"Harry, answer me. Why didn't you tell me about it in one of your letters? I know this is relatively
new. It's still healing."
"What are you, a doctor?" Harry griped quietly and Piers just pulled him closer.
"Stephen's a nurse at the local hospital, Harry," he explained.
He let out an aggravated breath.
"How did this dog get on your campus? How could your headmaster allow this? It isn't safe!"
Harry didn't answer and made to move away. Piers released him but his eyes never left Harry's form.
"Please, tell me, Harry. I worry about youwe never get to see each other."
"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry." He looked away.
Piers's eyes narrowed. "Is that why you get nightmares?" he asked perceptively, remembering back to
the night before when Harry had awakened, screaming into their shared pillow. "Is it because of this
dog? Or wolf? Must have been a wolf," he decided. "A dog doesn't have that large of a jaw."
"It wasn't a wolf," Harry said, giving up, "or a dog."
"Then what was it?"
Harry glanced away. "If I told you, Piers, you wouldn't believe me."
Piers looked at him piercingly. "Of course I would believe you, Harry. I'd believe you if you told me the
Loch Ness Monster did it. That makes more sense than a dog, considering the wound."
Harry rolled his eyes. "That's a kelpie, actually."
"What's a kelpie?"
Harry paled slightly, realizing what he had said. "Nothing. Never mind."
"Tell me, Harry, please."
He still didn't answer.
"Well, if it didn't happen at your school, was it that large black dog that sometimes hangs around

here? The really dirty one that hasn't seen a bath in months if not years?"
Harry looked up startled. "The big shaggy one?"
Piers shrugged in agreement. "Yeah. I've seen it along Magnolia Crescent once or twice and I swear it
was across the street this morning when we were eating breakfast in the kitchen."
"That's odd. I could have sworn the same dog has been around the orphanage and the church. I
wonder what that's about."
Piers looked worried. "Please tell me it's not what bit you, because if it is we have to tell Dad so he
can call the police. That thing could have some sort of disease. Have you had your shots?"
"Of course I have," Harry said petulantly. "I hate needles, but they give them to me every summer
when I get back from school"
"As they should," Piers interjected.
"and it wasn't that dog."
"Then what was it?" Piers reached over and cupped Harry's cheek, causing him to shiver at the
contact.
"I can't tell you," Harry pleaded with him.
"Is it because you didn't see it? Isn't there some dark forest near your school?"
Harry nodded, allowing Piers to take it as confirmation if he wanted. "Yes, the Forbidden Forestit's
forbidden, obviously."
"What a strange name."
"Highly unoriginal as Bones would say."
"Bones?" Piers inquired, his eyebrows rising slightly.
"Girl in my house. Susan Bones. She's an orphan like I am."
Piers felt a twinge of jealousy shoot through him but he pushed it away. Harry was his, he reminded
himself. He had nothing to fear as long as Harry was still wearing that ring around his finger.
"At least tell me someone looked at it."
"Of course. Madam Pomfrey did. It should heal completely over the next few weeks, Piers."
"Alright," he grumbled before pulling Harry back toward him. "I want Stephen to look at it, though."
Harry rolled his eyes and settled back into Piers's embrace. "Fine. If it will make you stop whinging
about it."
"Can't promise that," he half-laughed into Harry's messy hair.
"That would be too much to hope for."
"What ever happened to that girl from the other house you wrote about?" he asked as they settled
side by side in bed. Piers reached out to turn off the light and gasped as his chest brushed Harry's
moist shoulder. He was suddenly glad that the lights were now off and Harry couldn't see him blush.
"Which girl? You're going to have to be more specific, Piers."
"The one who followed you around and sent you a Valentine."
Harry rolled his eyes although Piers couldn't see it. "Ohher." He sighed. "She only liked me because
I'm famjust because. Shallow reasons. She thinks because I survived a c-car crash that I'm special
or something. It's weird."
Piers growled slightly and wrapped his warm arm around Harry's torso, pulling him close. "That's
sick."
"It is sick, isn't it?" Harry asked quietly, his voice suddenly timid.
He pressed his nose into Harry's shoulder and smiled when he felt Harry cuddle closer to him. "What's
her name again?"
"Ginny Weasley. She's in another house."
"Hmm. What happened to her finally?"
"She was," Harry hesitated and it sounded like he was grasping for words, "really stupid and managed
to get into a locked cellar of the school. No one could really get down there but I managed to find a
way."
"Now you're her hero, I bet," Piers griped.
Harry groaned. "I know. It's so unfair."
"Harry James Potter. Saving one soul for our Lord at a time," Piers teased and he stilled when he felt a
soft kiss pressed against his neck. "We all fall in love with you and then follow you back to evensong."
"Saint Potter," he corrected sleepily, wrapping his arm around his fianc's waist. "She better not start
showing up to St. Jerome's."
Piers could only smile as they both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.
Before the Goblet of Fire
"Let's run away together." The words hung in the air between them, Harry staring dejectedly out of
the orphanage window as Piers sat, stunned, on Harry's bed.

The room was wide and open, five neat beds with sturdy frames spaced out within it, a nice blue print
on the walls although a rather large crucifix ruined the effect in Piers's mind. He was religious, of
course, but he didn't think he'd want to see a bloodied Christ every time he woke up or went to bed.
Harry found it comforting, though. The summer before Piers had even managed to purchase a large
one so Harry could take it to schoolhe said the place was absolutely godless and there wasn't even a
copy of the Bible in the library.
"What's wrong?" he whispered to Harry and noticed that the other boy was playing with his
engagement ring, which almost perfectly fit his third finger now.
"I can't tell you," he replied brokenly, pressing his forehead against the windowpane. The sun was out
that morning and it created an odd kind of halo around Harry, making his hunched figure seem angelic
or holy in some way.
Piers looked dejectedly at his own hands, his ring resting proudly on his third finger.
"I wish I could," Harry said, his voice little more than a choked sob. "I wish I could so badly."
"Come sit with me," Piers quietly commanded, willing the boy into his arms.
Harry hesitated for a moment but eventually turned, revealing his tear-stained face. He moved across
the room and sank down next to Piers, leaning against him for support.
"I love you, Harry, you know that," Piers murmured as he held Harry to him.
"I know," he sighed, closing his eyes.
"Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what you can. I'm here all afternoon and I'm sure I
can kick your roommates out if I need to," he teased.
Harry laughed softly before quieting again. "My parents didn't die in a car crash," he began.
Piers stiffened at the confession but still held Harry closely. "They didn't?"
He shook his head. "I thought they had but when I went to my school, I found out they hadn't. They
werethey were murdered in our own house."
Piers dropped a kiss on his head, and remained quiet, allowing Harry to speak.
"You know Sirius Black?"
"The man on the news? The one that murdered thirteen people? Christ, did he kill your parents?"
Harry looked at him accusingly and he blushed before making the sign of the cross.
"Sorry," he apologized. "I was startled."
"Don't let the sisters hear you."
"They love me."
"They love me more."
Piers had no response to that. It was clearly true. "Is he after you too then? Are you safe? I'm sure
the nuns will let you stay with us the rest of the summer. I don't want you out of my sight," he swore.
Harry smiled despite himself. "They thought he was after me but he wasn'tisn'tit's complicated. I
don't know how to explain."
Silence settled over them and Piers played with Harry's fingers contentedly, just marveling at the
touch of his fianc. Harry's birthday was only a few weeks away and his dad and Stephen were taking
them to the seaside for a week to celebrate. It was a surprise, of course, and he couldn't wait to see
Harry's face, but if Sirius Black was after Harry . . .
He shook himself mentally. Harry said Black wasn't after him, and he just had to trust him. His
fianc's time away from Surrey was so wrapped in mystery that all Piers could do was trust him and
know that Harry returned to him every summer. It had to be enough, especially as every waking
moment Piers fell more and more for Harry.
"He's my godfather," Harry finally admitted and Piers pulled away to look into Harry's face, needing to
see the truth.
"Sirius Black is your godfather?" he asked incredulously.
Harry's green eyes sparkled and he nodded. "He was friends with my dad back in schoolalmost like
brothers. Best man at my parents' wedding apparently."
"Your godfather is a murderer," Piers stated dumbly, his mind still shocked at the revelation.
"He didn't do it. He says he didn't and that Pettigrew didthe man who betrayed my parents to the
person who killed them."
Piers gazed down at him and then nodded. "Sounds complicated."
"It is," Harry agreed before he lay down, his head resting trustingly in Piers's lap.
Reaching out, Piers began to run his fingers through Harry's hair, marveling at its smoothness and
just adoring the intimate sensation. "Is that why you're upset?" he asked finally.
"No," Harry began. "Yes. I"
Piers waited, continuing his soothing movements.
"For a few hours it looked like he was going to be acquitted of all charges and he offered to have me

come and live with him, since he is my godfather after all," he admitted, his eyes looking up into
Piers's dark ones. "I just got so angry at him."
Piers fidget slightly in agitation. He didn't like the idea of an accused murderereven if he was
miraculously innocent and Harry's godfathercoming and taking his fianc away from Whinging. "Why
were angry?"
"He was my godfatheris my godfather. He didn't take me in at first; he let me be taken and dropped
off at the Dursleys'. Did you know I was left in a basket with a letter? Sister Anne told me when
I asked. She never saw the letter but my mother's sister mentioned it. A basket, Piers! An actual
basket! He let someone else take me and put me in a basket on a doorstep in the middle of the
night!"
Tears streamed down his face and Piers gently wiped them away before glancing at the door. It was
closed, but not locked and he bit his lip in worry. There were no locks on the bedroom doors at St.
Jerome's. They encouraged sinful behavior, probably, he thought to himself. Making a quick decision,
Piers leaned down and gently kissing the tear tracks on Harry's face.
"Shh, Harry," he murmured. "I'm here."
"I got so angry," Harry sobbed, clutching Piers to him. "How could he say such a thing? He also
mentioned that he was sure I was happy with my aunt. My aunt, Piers, my aunt! I've never met the
woman."
Piers brushed his nose against Harry's cheek lovingly, clasping the smaller boy to him, one hand still
buried in his hair.
"I-I-I told him that I didn't live with my aunt but that I was at an orphanage and that I liked it," he
continued to explain. "I love it here. I love the sisters and Father Drummond. I love being here with
you every summer, Piers. I couldn't let him take me away from you. I love you too much."
"Shh," Piers murmured, kissing Harry's soft lips for the first time. "No one's taking you away."
"I hope you're right," Harry murmured before kissing him back. "I pray to God you're right." He
sighed. "What ifwhat if he somehow gets off and tries to come and take me? What then?"
Piers looked into his eyes, so close to his own, and kissed him again. "Then we'll run away, Harry, and
live happily ever after. A brave new world."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed in slightly confusion, trying to place the reference. "Shakespeare?"
"The Tempest. Had to read it this term at Smeltings. Dursley failed the project. It was spectacular!"
Harry smiled. "Promise?"
"I swear," was the solemn response.
Before the Order of the Phoenix
"Come on," Piers laughed quietly as they rushed through the park at night. Harry had been slightly
withdrawn ever since he arrived back from school that summer, and Piers was determined to make
him smile. "Just a little bit farther."
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, gasping for breath.
"It's a surprise."
Harry groaned. "Is this a bad surprise like when you stole the communion wine last year?"
"That was a joke," Piers defended, "and I only moved it."
"I had a heart attack when Father Drummond asked me where it had gone!" he exclaimed before Piers
silenced him with a quick kiss. "Are you sure it's safe?" he questioned nervously.
A few nights before, old Mrs. Figg had been found near the park in the early hours of the morning. The
local news said that she was alive but that she had clearly been attacked and had gone into some sort
of shock and couldn't even recognize English anymore.
"Yes," Piers responded. "I'll keep you safe, and we're almost there," he breathed against Harry's lips
and Harry forgot to draw air. Piers smiled impishly, secretly pleased with himself.
He had grown a lot over the past years and although his features were still pointed, he didn't look like
a rat, as he had before. Fortunately, he wasn't quite as scrawny. He'd never look athletic and lean like
Harry, his shoulders now being too broad, but he was nothing for Harry to be ashamed of, he thought
happily to himself.
They rounded the corner and Piers stopped, gesturing dramatically to the clearing.
Harry blinked. "There's nothing there," he stated.
Piers rolled his eyes before grabbing a blanket out of his russack. "We're meant to stargaze," he
stated importantly. "I thought you take astronomy at school."
Harry smiled slightly and sat down on the blanket, resting his head back on his arms. "I do."
Piers lay down next to him and stared at Harry's profile and not the stars. "Name them for me?" he
asked quietly.
Harry turned toward him and smirked. Piers gazed on Harry's face, his eyes tracing the dark circles

that even the darkness couldn't completely hide. His face was pinched, almost unhealthy looking,
though Piers supposed it was because Harry had hit a rather sudden growth spurt over the past month
or so, though that didn't explain why Harry always looked as if he hadn't slept at all. "Are you going to
look at me or at the constellations?"
"Both," Piers stated confidently and Harry laughed quietly. "Teach me."
"Well," Harry began self-importantly, playing along, "the one that looks like a 'w' is Cassiopeia. She's
a queen." He turned to look back at Piers who was clearly looking at him and not where he was
pointing. "You are a horrible student," Harry remarked.
Piers smiled. "I'm not too bad. Get decent marks."
Harry nodded and dropped his arm, neither of them paying attention to the sky anymore.
"Can I kiss you?" Piers chewed his bottom lip nervously, though his eyes never left Harry's.
"I thought you already kissed me."
"NoI mean, yes, I did." Piers reached out and entwined his fingers in Harry's long hair. "I meant can
I kiss you for real? Like your boyfriend or fianc."
"You are my fianc," Harry stated as if it were obvious.
Piers grinned in the darkness and nudged closer. "Is that a 'yes,' then?"
"Will it hurt?" Harry asked quietly.
Startled, Piers pulled away. "What?"
"It's justwe had this ball over Christmas. They called it Yule. They're heathens, all of them, I swear.
There isn't even a church," he rambled and Piers allowed him. He liked hearing Harry's voice. "Can
you imagine? I tried to get permission first year to go into the villagethe only village for miles
aroundto take the sacrament and there wasn't one. We don't even have a chaplain. So wrong. I
had to have Father Drummond petition on my behalf to have the Eucharist sent to me. They had to
compromise and send someone twice a year to a town ten miles away to give it to me."
"That's why you wanted me to send you that book of sermons first year," he teased.
"I was going into withdrawal," Harry drawled, his eyes flashing.
"You just missed Sister Anne." He sobered instantly, thinking on just how pretty Sister Anne actually
was.
"Don't worry, Piers," Harry murmured, wiggling closer. "I love you." Harry's rough fingers ran against
his jaw line and Piers inhaled sharply.
"Is that a 'yes,' then?"
Harry bit his lip, unconsciously mimicking Piers, before nodding.
Warm lips pressed against his, and Harry pushed himself closer into Piers's arms. "Hmm, this is nice,"
he mumbled before Piers's grip tightened in his hair, angling his head upward slightly. The kiss was
still chaste but it was more than the brief brush of skin that he was used to. Piers's body was pressed
against his own, their legs tangled up with each other. Breaking away, Harry breathed in deeply. "That
didn't hurt."
"Why would it?" Piers asked, confused.
Harry blushed. "That ballthe heathen one" he began.
"Did someone kiss you?" Piers asked, aghast. Before Harry could answer, he pressed himself against
Harry again and claimed his lips possessively, his tongue snaking out as he teased Harry's lower lip,
begging silently for entrance.
Harry moaned, opening his mouth, and Piers sighed as he felt the warm heat of Harry's mouth. His
body became awash with sensation as he explored Harry's mouth and Harry's tongue cautiously met
his own, touching it lightly before darting away again.
"There he is," a voice interrupted and Piers pulled away, grabbing at his bag and quickly pulling out a
crowbar that he had brought to protect them.
"Who's there?" he demanded as he glanced around.
Harry fumbled for something in his pockets and Piers stared, incredulous, when he brought out a
smooth stick.
"A piece of wood?" he murmured to himself before quickly snapping his attention back to the
people who were standing around them. Eight strangely dressed people stood around them, all
pointing smooth sticks at them and Piers's eyes widened as he realized that light was coming from
them. "Harry?" he questioned.
"Why weren't you at your aunt's house, Potter?" a man who looked like he was missing a piece of his
nose growled at Harry.
Piers snorted despite the situation. "That bitch. Did you know that her lawns are still green, Harry?
We're in a drought and her lawns are green, goddamn it!"
"Piers!" Harry admonished and Piers quickly crossed himself. "What would Reverend Drummond say if

he could hear you?"

Several of the intruders exchanged glances. Harry was ignoring them, his stick-thing lowered and his
attention solely on Piers.
"Sister Anne wouldn't let me associate with you if she heard such language."
"I'm sorry, Harry," he murmured, though his eyes never left the eight? nine? people who were looking
at them. "I only swear when I think about those people or anyone else who might want to hurt you
like that murdering godfather of yours."
A few of the eccentric-looking people gasped at his words. Served them right. They should be
astonished that Harry's godfather had very probably murdered thirteen innocent souls!
"Hmmm," Harry responded, his eyes flashing with some unreadable emotion.
"Why aren't you at your aunt's?" another man inquired. His clothesif you could call them thatwere
worn and he was going prematurely gray.
"I've always lived at an orphanage," Harry responded coldly.
The man's eyes widened.
"What did you think would happen? Dumbledore left me in a basket on my aunt's doorstep," he spit
out.
Piers reached out and entwined their fingers in comfort. "Do you know these people?"
"Some of them," he said grudgingly. "They're all godless," he added. "Professor Lupin taught at my
school."
"Atheism is a trend," Piers conceded, quoting a recent sermon.
The people continued to exchange glances worriedly. "They're not atheists, they're practically pagans.
I'm being entirely serious. It's disturbing." He looked at the group. "What are you doing here then?"
"Sorry to interrupt your date," a young woman with bright green hair said nervously. "I'm Tonks, by
the way."
Harry didn't respond and instead waited for an answer.
She looked at him expectantly and then sighed. "We're here to escort you to Headquarters."
Piers snorted and the man glared at him sharply, frightening him slightly. "Sorry. It just sounds like
something from a spy film."
"Bond. James Bond," Harry agreed quietly.
Piers sniggered. "That trailer was brilliant."
In a louder voice, Harry stated, "I don't know what this Headquarters place is and I'm certainly not
going."
"Harry," the worn looking man who had spoken earlier said, "it's for your safety."
"I'm perfectly safe here, thanks," he responded coldly, contempt in his eyes as he looked at the
man. "I doubt Sister Anne or Sister Luke will permit me to leave, especially with strangers that I will
not vouch for."
"Sirius is there," the man began again, but Piers interrupted this time.
"Black? The convict on the run who left Harry to be raised in an orphanage?"
The man gulped and several people in the group shifted.
"Potter," the frightening man growled. "Enough of this. It isn't safe here."
"I don't think the Ministry will look kindly at kidnapping," he said quietly, coolly, a slice of warning in
his voice as he held tightly onto Piers's hand, "especially since all of you are breaking the Statute of
Secrecy by revealing yourselves to a Muggle."
"He's got a point," a new woman said, lowering her stick, which now was no longer shining.
"Of course I have a point," Harry snapped before getting to his feet. "Come on, Piers. We should go
back to your dad's."
Piers looked at him, startled, but quickly obeyed, grabbing the blanket and stuffing it back in his bag.
"Harry, please," the worn-looking man began again, but Harry cut him off.
"You lost all rights to have a say in my life when you allowed me to be left with Muggles, professor.
Tell Dumbledore he has no control over my actions at allno matter how much political power he has.
I'm not his tool or plaything."
He grabbed Piers's hand possessively and hurried away from them, never looking back. Piers's mind
swam in confusion, but he soon forgot it when he found himself alone in his room with Harry ten
minutes later, a firm body pressed against his as Harry hungrily kissed him as if Piers were the only
thing separating him from insanity.
...Before the Half-Blood Prince
Harry and Piers stood outside a large music store in London, their hands clasped. "Do you trust me?"
Harry asked quietly, and Piers looked at him with confusion.
"Of course I do, Harry," he whispered, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Harry's lovingly.

"I know you've had questions over the yearsand I couldn't answer them. There are laws."
Piers nodded. He had been confused, especially after the previous summer with the torches that were
made of wood, but he had forced himself not to think about it. As soon as Harry had walked into his
life, the bizarre had followed them, masking itself in the ordinary.
"I looked it up," Harry admitted quietly. "Last year I looked it up. Although I'm not of age until next
summer, I'm old enough to become engaged, and we're allowed to tell those we marry. So, Piers, I
have to know before I tell you anything elsewill you marry me? Really?"
Piers's lips thinned into a line and he looked at Harry intently, reading the emotions on Harry's
face. "You know I will," he said just as quietly and Harry breathed out a sigh of relief.
"You can't tell anyone. Not your parents or Stephen. If you wind up on trialyou can't let anyone
know, Piers." He closed his eyes in pain. "It has to remain safe. Believe it or not, but lives are at
stake. All of our lives."
"Are you in trouble?" he asked worriedly, cradling Harry's face in his hands.
He smiled slightly and shook his head. "No, not like how you mean. Do you remember those people
from last summer? The ones with the magic torches?"
"Hard to forget."
Harry smiled slightly. "True. They're wizards, Piers. My parents were wizardsI'm a wizard."
Piers gazed at him, his eyes widening in shock. "Those were wands?"
"Yes."
"And you do magic?"
"Light magic, yes, Piers."
He let out a breath loudly. "Can you show me?"
Harry shook his head. "I can't, not during the summers. It's against our laws. You saw proof though
last summer."
Piers gulped. "What bit youall those years ago?" he asked, fidgeting. "It wasmagical, right? I knew
it wasn't a dog. It looked nothing like a dog bite."
Harry smiled again. "A basilisk. A giant snakethey're magical. There was one in a hidden chamber at
my school, Hogwarts." He gasped as he felt himself enveloped in warm arms.
"My God," Peirs murmured into his ear before kissing it tenderly. "Thank all that is holy that God kept
you safe." He ran his hand up Harry's back and wouldn't let him go. "Do the nuns know?"
"They can't. There's an International Statute of Secrecy. If they found out, their memories would
be erasedby magic. I can only tell you because we're engaged. Only family can be told and, well,
usually you're supposed to wait until you get married." He pulled away and ran his hand up Piers's
neck, "But I couldn't do that to you, Piers. I was tired of not answering your questions and you only
knowing a small sliver of my life."
"I love you," Piers whispered before leaning in and kissing Harry gently in the street. "Always love
you."
Harry rested his forehead against Piers, breathing in deeply. "There's a war in my world, Piers, and it's
getting worse."
"A war?"
"Yes. A horrible war. It's complicated."
"Everything always is with you."
Harry huffed. "True." He pulled away. "Come on. Let's grab something at The Leaky Cauldron." At
Piers's confused look, he elaborated, "It's the entrance to our magical shopping district."
Piers nodded and allowed Harry to drag him across the street and into a pub that he swore hadn't
been there a moment before.
"Wicked," he whispered despite himself.
Harry laughed quietly. "Something wicked this way comes."
"Double, double, toil and trouble" Piers snickered. "In the immortal words of Queen, 'It's a kind of
magic.'"
Harry rolled his eyes.
They approached the bar and Harry smiled at the barkeep kindly, who set a newspaper aside. "Could
we have two Butterbeers, Tom?"
"'Course you can," he said and Piers glanced at the discarded paper before snatching it up quickly.
"H-harry. You're on the front page," he said, astonished.
Harry leaned over and looked at it. "Yes. That happens a lot."
Piers blinked at him in shock. "What do you mean it happens a lot?" He scanned the article. "They say
you're something called 'The Chosen One' and that you were in a battle last month!"
The few people scattered about looked at them in curiosity but Piers didn't notice. He was too busy

devouring the article. "Can I have this?" he asked Tom and quickly folded it when the man nodded
before turning to Harry. His eyes narrowed. "That storyabout that girl who was in love with you
because you survived the 'car crash,' that's that whole 'Chosen One' thing gone wrong, isn't it?"
"You know Jesus Christ?" Harry asked in response.
Piers nodded.
"It wouldn't be completely wrong to say that they see me as a kind of Christ figure."
Gasps erupted around them but Harry and Piers were in their own world, staring at each other
intently. Tom set their Butterbeers before them and picked up the coins Harry had placed on the
counter, humming to himself and looking at the boy who was accompanying the Chosen One.
"They crucified Christ. The Jews had him crucified and the Romans did it for them."
Harry glanced away not denying it.
"They've started already over the past few years, haven't they?" Piers didn't fully understand
everything he was being toldbut he knew one thing: he loved Harry, not in a childlike way as he first
had. His adoration had grown over the years and he genuinely wanted to spend the rest of his life with
the boy across from him.
Over the years, he knew Harry had been keeping secrets from him, but he trusted Harry and knew
that he never lied, which was all that mattered. They never lied to each other and so if Harry said
that thesewizards saw him as a savior or the Son of God or gods or whatever, then they strangely
did. "Darling," he whispered, pulling Harry to him and resting his forehead against Harry's.
Harry relaxed into his touch.
"There's a good side though," he said cheekily, looking into Piers's dark eyes.
"There's a good side to being a magical Christ and having thisYou Know Who wanting you dead?"
"No, there's no good side to that. Wizards are pagans, actually, if they have a religion," he shivered.
"You said that last year."
"I can't get over it," he protested. "What would Sister Anne say?"
"She'd call you her little missionary and tell you to go out and convert the hoards."
Harry snorted, pressing himself closer to Piers. "True."
"What's the good side then?"
"We can get legally married here. Muggleser, non-magical peoplewouldn't recognize it, but it
would be legal as long as we're both seventeen."
Piers smiled brightly and Harry, not caring about their audience, kissed him gently. "There's
something to say for godlessness," Piers teased and Harry laughed, releasing the tension.
"Did you know Holy Water works though? That girl I told you aboutthe one who got herself trapped
in that cellargot herself possessed and I managed to destroy the thing possessing her with actual
Holy Water."
Piers laughed openly, grabbing the chilled bottle of butter-something and taking a swig. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Do I even want to know why you had Holy Water?"
"I asked Sister Anne before I went to school for my second year. Said I wanted to be prepared for
anything. I am her favorite, after all."
...before the Deathly Hallows
Harry and Piers fell into the honeymoon suite, slamming the door behind them. "I love you," Piers
breathed as he kissed Harry's mouth, his hands clasping his husband of only thirty minutes to him
possessively.
"What would Sister Luke say?" Harry laughed as he quickly undid the tie around Piers's neck before
dropping it hastily on the floor. It wasn't needed after all.
"What would Dad say if he knew we'd just tied the knot and were in a hotel in Cornwall?"
"We left a note."
Piers laughed into the kiss before yanking Harry's shirt out of his trousers. He was wearing some
weird robe-cloak-thing. According to Harry these were traditional wizarding dress robes and entirely
appropriate for his wedding. Piers thought they were an excuse to wear far too many layers of
clothing.
He had worn a tux, which he thought had too many layers, as well, but at least he wasn't wearing a
damn cloak-thing.
"He and Stephen will think it's a joke."
"It was hastily written," Harry conceded as he pushed Piers's jacket off his shoulders. It got stuck
around his elbows, forcing Piers to release his grasp on his husband and awkwardly pull it off himself,
leaving it in a crumpled pile on the floor.
"I thought it was inspired," he whispered huskily in Harry's ear, causing him to shiver.

"Erright," Harry gasped, trying to think as hands touched his bare skin under his shirt. "'Ran off to
get married. Be back Friday after marathon sex' could have been worded more appropriately."
"It got all of the important information across. And they have my mobile number." Piers was tired of
the robe and tugged it off of Harry quickly, leaving it somewhere where it was sure to get crushed.
They still hadn't quite made it to the bed yet.
"Mobile!" Harry screeched as if he just remembered it. "Turn that thing off, Piers."
He laughed quietly and made short work of Harry's white tie. It was a little too pristine and virginal in
Piers's opinionlike Harry. He would soon change that. "It's already off, love, for the service."
Harry sighed in relief. "I've waited too long for this to have some Muggle device interrupt us."
Piers laughed against Harry's clothed shoulder, his hands working on the buttons that were keeping
him from Harry's chest. "How long do we have?"
"The wedding's at three," he gasped back as Piers began to suck on a spot beneath Harry's right ear.
"Plenty of time then." His fingers ran into Harry's messy hair, two rings glinting in the lightone
a dulled sterling silver, the other a shining white gold torque ring. They both sat on his fourth
finger. "Who stole our date again?"
"Fleur Delacour," Harry moaned, his hands running along Piers's shoulder blades, "and one of the
Weasleys."
Piers smirked. "What will the youngestWeasley, was it?say when you turn up with your new
husband of only a few hours?"
"Cry probably," Harry laughed, shifting under Piers's caresses.
"Who's this Fleur girl then?" He smiled mischievously as he kissed the side of Harry's slightly exposed
neck, delighting in the gentle gasps he was eliciting from his husband.
"Met herfourth yearwe were ch-champions togetherright there!" He breathed in harshly before
kissing Piers hungrily, their tongues entwining clumsily in their passion. "I love you so much," Harry
swore as he kicked off his shoes and, getting impatient, took off his trousers and boxers in one
movement, leaving himself completely naked except for his socks.
Piers stilled, taking in the sight before him. Harry was absolutely beautiful to him.
Harry bit his lip. "Piers?" he asked softly and Piers snapped out of his thoughts and kissed Harry
deeply.
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" he wondered aloud as they fell across the bed, Piers quickly
pulling his shirt and trousers off.
They gasped as they settled next to each other on the bed, their naked bodies pressed against each
other for the first time.
"I'm beginning to think abstinence was a bad thing," Harry mewled as he arched into the
sensation. "This is toomuch."
Piers breathed harshly as his hands ran down Harry's back and cupped his backside so that they were
even closer together. "You never would have," Piers sighed as he kissed Harry gently. "You wouldn't
be the man I love if you weren't so obscenely moral and religious."
Harry smiled against his mouth. "You wouldn't be the man I love if you didn't support it completely,
even though I've been driving you crazy all month."
Piers chuckled at the memories of the past weeks. They had had to establish a pillow barrier for
whenever Harry slept over and even then Piers found himself having to remove himself to the living
room couch because Harry had just been too tempting, sleeping trustingly next to him. Stephen had,
of course, laughed when he had found him, going on about "young love" and "devout orphans" while
making them breakfast.
He had barely slept the past month, especially since Harry had come back one day from London with
a copy of his Living Will and Testament, in case he didn't come out of the conflict in the wizarding
world. Piers had held him closely all night, silent tears running down both of their faces as they kissed
softlybut he wouldn't think about that now, he couldn't.
"Did you read that book I got you?" he asked, pulling away slightly before reaching over the side of
the bed for his bag, which had lubricant and condoms in it.
"The one I had to hide from the sisters and all my friends?" Harry asked. "Course I read it. I wasn't
going to go into this completely ignorant."
Piers smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. "Alrighthow do you want towe can do whatever and
only whatever you want, Harry," he said nervously and Harry smiled lovingly up at him.
Taking the box of condoms, he stared at them before chucking them over his shoulder. "I trust
you, Piers. I know you've never been with anyone," he whispered softly before pulling his husband
down for a hungry kiss. "Just make love to me," he requested as he purposefully thrust against his
husband. "Make it so I can feel you, my love."

Twenty Years Later

Harry James Polkiss smiled as he got out of the car, his bright emerald eyes looking around King's
Cross as memories assailed him.
"Weird to be back?" a strong voice asked close behind him, and he turned and saw his husband
standing behind him with a trolley holding a trunk.
"Yes," he admitted quietly before turning back to the car. "Come on, Felicity," he called. "You can hold
your kitten if she won't go back into her cage."
A small "meep" emitted from the automobile and, a few moments later, a girl with black hair and blue
eyes came out, a smile on her face. "Thanks, Daddy," she whispered before handing Harry the empty
carrier.
Piers smiled at the pair happily. They looked so much alike, and he had never regretted his decision
to have a child with his husband using artificial insemination and a birth mother. A Muggle-born witch
had actually been the carriera fan of Harry's who had happily signed away all rights and several
privacy contracts just for a chance to say 'thank you' to the wizard who had saved the wizarding
world. Harry was born to be a loving and doting father, and Piers was glad that he had given Harry the
family he had one promised when they were eleven.
"Do you have your Holy Water?" Piers teased his daughter and Felicity's eyes brightened.
"Of course I do. I am Sister Anne's favorite, after all," she stated proudly as they made their way to
the magical barrier.
"True, you are," Piers responded though he looked into Harry's eyes. "Ready?" he inquired softly.
"As long as you're here," he murmured back, the truth of his words clearly written on his face and
with a deep breath, the family stepped into the magical world.
- The End -