Chapter 30

New York, Woolworth Building.

The long-distance Portkey was as unpleasant as ever, but they were slightly better prepared for it this time.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked at the man that had spoken, presuming him to be some kind of official that greeted foreign visitors. Medium height, middle-aged. dark-haired, dark-eyed, good suit, slight olive skin tone… he was pretty bland actually.

"That's me." He said, shaking the man's offered hand and taking it upon himself to introduce the rest of his party. "Sirius Black, Luna Lovegood, Fleur Delacour."

To the man's credit, he only stared at Fleur for a little bit before shaking off the effects of her Allure. "A pleasure, I'm Juan Carlos Ramirez."

"Wait, aren't you the Vice President of Magical Congresss?" Harry asked in surprise, recognising the name.

"I am." Ramirez confirmed and made a beckoning gesture with his arm. "If you'll please follow me?"

Harry exchanged a suspicious glance with Sirius as they started walking. The second highest official in a nation would not normally greet a handful of foreigneirs looking to spend a few months in their country, which was something that Harry had made sure to be clear was all they were.

The Americans were playing games. He'd only just got here and they were already playing games.

"So, Juan, may I call you Juan?" The veela asked, smiling with all the grace and charm that came naturally to her kind.

"I-yes, of course!" Ramirez babbled, flushing like a school boy for a moment before he regained control of himself.

"Vice President you say? Tell me more." She purred, leaning a bit further towards the politician.

Harry suppressed a smile. Fleur was playing games too.

Ramirez ate it up like a starving man presented with a feast, his previous composure nowhere to be seen.

"She's really good at this, isn't she?" Luna whispered to him.

"Very." Harry whispered back, amused and more than a bit thoughtful.

Fleur was a surprisingly savvy interrogator, deftly avoding questions that would remind Ramirez that he was here because of Harry and not her and playing the role of a woman impressed with a powerful politician to perfection. Ramirez probably didn't even remember that the rest of them existed if his eagerness to answer Fleur's questions was any clue.

They didn't really learn much from this game of Fleur's… mostly just a bunch of trivia about the admittedly impressive magic that hid the seat of the magical government within what was otherwise a mundane building and some tidbits about what duties the Vice President had.

What really had him thinking was Fleur's technique. He'd never seen her pull information out of someone and it was giving him ideas.

Torture and threats thereof had worked on the Death Eaters so far, but it had downsides. For one thing, if he didn't know to ask they wouldn't volunteer anything. Maybe they could try a good cop, bad cop routine?

The walk continued with Ramirez being thoroughly distracted by Fleur while Harry, Luna and Sirius walked behind them and were content to stay quiet and watch her work. They did eventually reach their destination though, an overly fancy door with a plaque denoting that it led to the President's office, and Ramirez seemed to recall that he had a job to do, spinning around to face Harry with a flushed face and slightly wild eyes.

"Err, my apologies, Mr. Potter. I meant to tell you that the President wanted to speak to you before you left the building."

"Quite alright, I know how distracting Fleur can be." Harry replied, struggling to hold down a grin when the veela in question winked at him, the cheeky bird.

"Err, yes." Ramirez said, obviously wrongfooted. "I would be happy to entertain the rest of your party in my office while you meet with him."

I bet you'd like to 'entertain' Fleur in particular. Harry thought, amused. He wasn't jealous, not really. Perhaps he would be if there was any chance of Ramirez being successul, but he knew that Fleur wasn't really interested in bedding this political creature. She just liked to use her gifts to play with other people sometimes because they didn't work on him.

He still made sure to give her a deep kiss that left her looking predatory and eager after he thanked Ramirez for his hospitality, carefully not looking at the crestfallen expression that had briefly crossed his face. Perhaps it was petty of him to take so much satisfaction in poking a hole in the man's delusions, but he did. As if a meaningless political title would ever smell more tempting than the magic of a powerful wizard to a veela, even disregarding Fleur's emotional attachment to him.

The others left and Harry stepped through the door, discovering with no real surprise that it actually led to the office of the President's personal assistant rather than the man himself.

"Mr. Potter?" The pleasant looking woman queried with a smile. She was quite pretty in a competent, secretary-ish sort of way.

Harry noticed that nobody was calling him a lord around here and wondered if that was a deliberate slight, another political game or if they just didn't acknowledge any such titles on this side of the Atlantic. Didn't really matter.

"That's me." He said, returning her smile. "I hear the President wants to talk to me?"

"Yes, in just a few minutes. Feel free to take a seat in the meanwhile."

The smile slipped from Harry's face at her words.

He could understand why the President of the North American mages would want to talk to him, it was in the nature of politicians to get nervous when dangerous things or people entered their area of influence. It might be a bit odd for the President to be doing this himself, as such a thing would never happen with a non-magical politician occupying such a high office, but there were few enough wizards and witches even in the Americas that the President had a lot less to do compared to his mundane counterpart. Plus, he had become a person worth noting since demonstrating his skill with wandless magic. So no, it was not any kind of surprise that they'd take the opportunity to get the measure of him.

But playing this stupid game with making him wait to show who had the power? No, screw that noise.

"If he's too busy to meet with me right away then it must not be that important." Harry said blandly, stepping towards the exit. "Tell him to come meet me at our inn if he still wants to talk to me."

She looked quite put out by that and opened her mouth to reply, only to get cut off by a chime coming from her desk.

"The President will see you now." She said stiffly.

Somebody clearly didn't deal with people that didn't want to play by their rules. Tough.

As Harry stepped into the office of the President, his first impression of the man behind the desk was that he must put a lot of effort into looking distinguished.

He was a man edging towards his older years while still looking 'hale and hearty' as the old fashioned description went. He had short black hair streaked with silver on the sides with a matching salt and pepper beard, both impeccably groomed. His deep blue eyes and pale skin matched it well. Broad shoulders and a good suit completed the image of a distinguished older gentleman.

Really, it was like looking at a textbook definition of 'distinguished'.

He was clearly trying too hard. Or maybe Harry had been made overly cynical after having to put up with Fudge. It could be either one… or both.

"Harry Potter." The man said extending his hand. "I am Gabriel Becker, President of the Magical Congress of North America. Welcome to our humble nation."

"Thanks." Harry replied dryly as he shook the offered hand and took the offered seat, being mildly rude on purpose. Privately, he also thought that North America was hardly humble. Putting aside it's mundane counterpart of dubious repute, the magical side of North America boasted a population of over twenty thousand wizards and witches in comparison to Britain's three thousand. "What did you want to talk to this humble visitor to your country about?"

Becker did no more than raise an eyebrow at his not-entirely-polite tone. Maybe he realised he had it coming for trying to pull the make-him-wait stunt earlier or he just wasn't willing to make an issue of it. "I just wanted to take this opportunity to meet you. It isn't often that a wizard like you comes around."

"Uh huh, and I suppose the guy under the invisibility cloak over there is for decoration?" Harry said, jerking his head towards a seemingly empty corner.

That had Becker looking startled and the unseen presence seemed to tense.

"I see that your reputation is well deserved." Becker chuckled ruefully after a few moments. "My invisible friend here is a bodyguard. I didn't think he was necessary, but my security detail insists."

It was a very convenient explanation, but it rang false to Harry's ears. More likely, Becker was shifting blame onto this nebulous 'security detail' to make himself look more reasonable. The standard political shit shoveling, but whatever.

"Right." He drawled dismissively. "Can we just skip all this dancing around and get to the point? I doubt you invite every foreign visitor for a chat and I didn't come here to play stupid political games, I get enough of that back in Britain."

Becker leaned back thoughtfully before speaking. "You're right of course, foreigneirs don't usually receive this much scrutiny, but you're not just anyone. For one thing, my intelligence service people have been pulling their hair out trying to think of ways to keep track of you since you don't need a wand."

Harry didn't let his expression sour, but he felt it all the same. Americans and their 'wand permit' bullshit. North America might have many things that it could boast about in comparison to it's archaic parent nation, but this was not one of them in his opinion. Sure, it probably made it harder to commit crime with magic. Sure, it was probably a good idea to keep a close eye on what people were doing with the power to alter reality. Sure, it had probably cut down on the amount of trouble some upstart with delusions of grandeour might cause. All of that and more were good arguments for requiring wand permits from an objective viewpoint, Harry would easily concede.

But it still ground on his nerves to have magic be so regulated .

"I can imagine." He said neutrally.

One of the reasons why it had taken so long for this trip to even get underway was the small mountain of paperwork that had been required to secure these bullshit wand permits for all four of them. He had initially expected that Ramirez was there to guide them to the wand registration office and had no doubt that they would be taken to have there as soon as he left this office, even if it was a mostly pointless gesture.

It was almost funny how a country known internationally for its gun happy rednecks and loose gun laws was so strict about wand control. Almost.

"So you can see the problem that your presence causes us? Unlike Britain, we believe in careful monitoring of magic to ensure it is used responsibly and we have no real way of monitoring you short of assigning you a minder."

"You want to have a spy follow me around everywhere I go?" Harry demanded. "Are you that paranoid?"

Becker's expression tightened, but he replied calmly enough. "They would stay out of your way as much as possible and would not infringe on your privacy. Think of it as more of a mix between being assigned a bodyguard and a diplomat to repair our poor relations with Britain. As you are the head of two of Britain's prominent noble families and a member of the Wizengamot, a case could be made for the arrangement being necessary."

"If this is your attempt to repair relations, then it's failing." Harry said snippily.

Becker had the nerve to smile slightly at that. "I understand your discontent. You are used to the way things are done in Britain, where wizards and witches are allowed to do as they please with their magic as long as it remains within the bounds of the law. Here, we understand that magic is not a toy and should not be treated as such."

That was a sentiment that Harry would normally agree with, if only it wasn't being used as an argument to justify an obsessive amount of oversight.

"And because you can't easily track wandless magic, you want to have someone do it manually. Are they going to follow me into the bathroom so they can tell you all about the neat little spell I use to dry my cock off after I take a piss?" He asked sarcastically, now being deliberately crass and rude.

" Mr. Potter," Becker said sternly, putting extra emphasis on the form of address. "I've already told you that your privacy will not be infringed upon. We do not make a habit of noting every minor spell cast by every one of our citizens, though they are catalogued should we need to. Obviously, this isn't possible in your case, but the minder will be there to make sure you do not use any illegal spells, the list of which I assume you have familiarised yourself with before coming here. This arrangement is not negotiable. If you wish to stay in North America, then you will accept it. If not, then we can arrange a Portkey back to Britain for you and your party."

So that was how it was going to be, huh? Harry forced down his anger at being presented with the ultimatum and was tempted to take the Portkey option. Of course, he'd just come back a little later, this time without informing the paranoid magical government of his visit.

But that would turn what was supposed to be a relaxing trip into a tense criminal activity.

Harry stood up without a word and stared down at the still sitting politician, ignoring the sense of tension from the invisible presence in the room. "Fine, I'll be expecting him or her soon."

As a point of emphasis, he flared out his magic, suffocating the room with his suppressed anger.

Becker paled and shrank in slightly on himself, his composure ruined by the sure knowledge that he'd just annoyed a wizard far more powerful than him.

"G-good." He said, his voice cracking slightly.

That at least made Harry feel a little better. These 'wizards' hiding behind politics and legislation always pissed him off, so it was good to remind them every so often what real power was. Becker might have forced him to accept having a snitch around since Harry didn't want to start a war over it and didn't want to leave the country without doing what he'd come to do, but he wanted it to be known that the Americans had not left a good impression on him.

Sirius Black was enjoying his visit to North America so far. He didn't really know why their President wanted to talk to Harry, but he did know that watching the Vice President get wrapped around Fleur's little finger was hilarious. Especially because he was quite sure that Ramirez didn't stand a snowball's chance in Hell of getting anything but disappointment from it.

Fleur was mean sometimes. No wonder she and Harry got along so well.

The amusing spectacle was cut short when Harry showed up, looking visibly irritated. Not the 'I want to kill someone' sort of irritated, Harry was good at internalising that. No, this looked more of a 'do you have to be so inexcusably stupid?' type of irritated. Fleur and Luna clearly saw it too, as they sat up and went to his side immediately, leaving Ramirez blinking in confusion at suddenly being deprived of the beautiful veela's attention.

It was a tense group that went to have their wands registered, dominated by Harry's surly mood. That was pretty odd in and of itself, as Harry was usually very good at controlling his emotions. A bit too good if Sirius was being honest. It had been so much easier to get a read on him before he put up enough walls to impress even Snape.

Fleur tried to get Harry to open up about what had him so bent out of shape, but he wouldn't talk about it until they got to their inn.

So there there they went, finding the place tucked into a space that was realistically too narrow to hold a small house, much less an inn. It looked horrendously out of place among the towering skyscrapers of muggle New York, even more than the Leaky Cauldron did in muggle London, but it was noticeably younger and more modern.

Unfortunately for his godson's temper and the nervous girl manning the front desk, they ran into a little cultural issue while settling their accomodations.

"Two beds? Are you sure?" The receptionist, who really couldn't be more than twenty, queried, clearly intimidated by Harry's stony stare. "I mean… there's four of you…"

Sirius had always been crap at the Mind Arts, but he didn't need Legilimency to interpret the girl's glances. She was trying to figure out who would be sleeping with who and coming up with little that made any sense to her, what with Fleur and Luna hanging onto Harry.

Sirius also recalled that most of the world did not share Magical Britain's rather relaxed views on the age of consent and Luna was blatantly underage.

Harry had no more trouble than him in figuring out what the problem was. And he was also a Legilimancer.

"That's none of your concern." He almost growled, making the girl flinch and hand over the keys in a hurry.

Sirius decided to talk to the receptionist a little more. Not only to apologise for his godson's attitude and reassure her that there was no need to report a possible case of statutory rape(a term that Lily had forced all the Marauders to learn in their sixth year), but also because she was pretty damn cute.

"You'll have to excuse him, he's usually a lot nicer but he's had a bad day." He said, pouring on the ol' Sirius Black charm that made her smile and blush prettily. Still got it.

"it's alright, a lot of people are like that." She mumbled.

"Well that's no way to treat a young lady. Why don't you let me make it up to you by taking you out tomorrow?" Sirius suggested.

It took a few minutes, but he managed to both smooth over whatever problem Harry's ill temper might have caused and get a date with a pretty girl out of it. Sometimes, Sirius impressed even himself.

When Sirius made it to the room that Harry had chosen for himself and his girls it was to find the aforementioned godson being pampered by the aforementioned girls, the lucky bastard.

"So, what was that about?" He prompted.

Harry let out an irritated sigh and explained what had gone on in the President's office.

"Well, I guess that's what you get for barbecuing Malfoy in broad daylight." Sirius said philosophically after the initial incredulity passed.

"I would have understood if they were worried about that." Harry grumbled back. "But no, it's the fact that they can't track the use of my magic that bothers them. 'Land of the free' my arse."

"I think it's only the muggles that say that ." Sirius felt the need to point out.

"Whatever."

"Are we going back to Britain then?" Luna asked.

"No, we're staying for now, provided our chaperone does as he or she is supposed to and stays out of our way. It's not like I was planning to cast Fiendfyre in the middle of New York, however pleasant that daydream is at the moment."

"When is this chaperone due to arrive?" Fleur asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Why?"

"Good, that gives us time to channel your anger into something productive, like breaking in this bed."

Sirius' finely honed bro instincts told him that it was time to vacate the premises. Maybe he'd go back to chatting up the receptionist girl and see if he could get some help breaking in his own bed later.

It was a much more mellow Harry that went to answer the door when it was knocked upon the next day. He was still annoyed by the idea of having someone shadowing him all the time to assuage the Americans' paranoia, but he was no longer thinking of all the ways he could make the escort's life miserable. That could still be revisited if they proved to be irritating though.

As soon as he opened the door, he had an immediate flashback to Kingsley Shacklebolt. The man outside was as black and as bald as the British Auror, though he was not nearly as big and looked to be a few decades older as well. Actually, on second thought, the only similarities he had with Shacklebolt was the skin color and the lack of hair, but there were only so many ways to describe a bald black man and Shacklebolt was the only one of those Harry had seen so far, so the association was sort of understandable.

"Good morning, Lord Potter." Said bald black man greeted, unaware of the minor philosophical conundrum that had passed through Harry's mind upon seeing him.

"Morning…" Harry said promptingly. He noted that the noble title was once again in use, which meant that the lack of it had definitely been meant as an insult yesterday. Cute.

"Johnson, Frank Johnson." The man provided.

"Right, I guess you'd better come in." Harry sighed, still not enthused by this.

"Thank you." Johnson nodded and then looked around. "Do we have a moment to speak privately?"

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but answered all the same. "We do…" Luna was still lazing about in bed due to the time zone difference and Fleur was taking a shower. Sirius had mentioned something about a girl yesterday.

"First, let me just assure you that you'll barely even know I'm around."

"I appreciate it." Harry lied. It was hard to appreciate and resent something at the same time.

"Second, I have an invitation to extend to you."

"From who?" Harry asked suspiciously. Which clever idiot thought they could get something out of him this time?

"From a colleague of an old Viking you might know."

Bjomolf. And a colleague of his could only be another vampire. By Tzeentch's tentacled cloaca, couldn't anything ever be simple?

"And why would this 'colleague' want to meet me?" He asked with a weary sigh.

"No idea." Johnson shrugged. "All I know is that she found out you were coming to America, predicted Becker's reaction and asked me to get into position to be assigned to you."

Which of course meant that Johnson was going to be reporting to this mysterious female vampire first and the President second.

Harry supposed that he could just ignore this and go about his business… but the last time he'd met a vampire he'd learned such interesting things. His curiousity was going to get him into serious trouble one day, he just knew it. More than it had already that was.

"When?"

"That's up to you really, I've been told that you'd know where to go?"

Well at least he wasn't expected to just show up on command. If that had been the case, he would have refused to go on sheer principle.

"Yes." He had only skimmed through the Black Book that Bjomolf had given him, but he did recall briefly glancing over an entry for New York. He'd have to check it more closely later, but there was another problem… "Can I bring guests?" Luna and Fleur knew the truth about his meeting with Bjomolf and would definitely insist on going with him to this one.

Johnson scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "As long as they're already in the know, I don't see why not, but I'll ask and get back to you just to be sure."

A week later.

Harry frowned to himself as he pored over the collection of books he'd aquired over the past week.

Some of them were about North America's magical history, which was notably different than the version he'd read back in Britain, mainly on points that made one side look bad and the other good. That had been expected.

What hadn't been expected was the sheer level of control and oversight that the magical government exerted over its citizens here. It was borderline fascist. Practically every spell or bit of magic that didn't concern personal hygiene or some domestic activity required some type of permit or form to be filed with the relevant governmental department. A wizard could get fined or even jailed for using a fucking stunner.

He'd wondered in the past if the different magical governments around the world had different secret magics that they kept to themselves. It was looking like North America specialised in surveillance. He certainly didn't think that the British Ministry of Magic was capable of exerting this kind of oversight.

Curiously, there were no Dark Lords on record. Plenty of criminals, but nobody that had ever mounted an outright attempt to topple the government. Harry wondered how much truth there was in that.

The sound of the bathroom door opening brought him out of his study and he watched, bemused, as Luna flounced out naked as the day she was born, with Fleur following right afterwards, equally naked.

"I thought you said you were done with the books for today?" Fleur asked in exasperation upon seeing what he was doing.

"What did you expect? You were in there for hours." Harry shrugged.

"Don't be such a man, 'Arry. It wasn't that long." Fleur waved off.

Unless veela had some kind of time dilation magic that he didn't know about, then Harry was going to have to disagree with that. Still, he knew better than to argue with a woman about the time she spent in the bathroom. Fortunately, he had expected this delay and made sure to leave plenty of breathing room in their plans.

"Harry, Harry, how do I look?" Luna asked excitedly, jumping in plance and sending her perky little breasts bouncing.

"Very nice." Harry said, smiling at his other, currently age-potioned, girlfriend. Luna looked great as a twenty-year-old. Still petite, but beautiful all the same.

They were meeting with New York's vampire mistress tonight, who the Black Book identified as being named Ophelia. Unfortunately, according to Johnson and his own investigation, the address given was a nightclub, which meant that he could hardly take a fifteen-year-old looking Luna with him if he didn't want to draw the wrong sort of attention, hence the Aging Potion.

"Very nice indeed." Fleur murmured, running her fingers up the younger blonde's side and making her giggle as she hit a ticklish spot. "Now lets get you dressed."

Harry put the books aside and watched the show as his girlfriends got dressed. The clothes themselves weren't anything overly sexy, just slightly higher quality casual wear really, as he had insisted on comfort and mobility rather than appearance in case things went pear shaped.

"Alright, we're ready to go." Fleur declared, checking herself out in a full length mirror.

"You both have your knives?" Harry asked just to be sure.

"Yes, in our boots." She confirmed, Luna nodding along as well.

"Alright then, let's go talk to Johnson then." Harry sighed. He was slightly less resentful of the American's presence now that he knew who his primary loyalties were to, but the overall situation still grated on him.

Really, it was what he represented that bothered Harry so much rather than the man himself. Johnson was actually a pretty good guy. He'd rented one of the other rooms and generally stayed out of their way, making no effort whatsoever to actually keep an eye on them as he was supposed to. Harry had even asked him to point out a place that he could get the books he'd so recently been reading and he had been the one to provide the Aging Potion for Luna, through what were probably extra-legal sources since Aging Potion was a controlled substance in North America.

He'd still have preferred to not have him around though.

As it turned out, Johnson was waiting for them in the hallway that led to the lobby.

Harry simply nodded at the man, but Luna took it upon herself to be a bit more… expressive.

"Hello, Frank." She chirped, treating him like a friend despite barely knowing him.

"Hello, Luna." Johnson said with a fond smile. "You look lovely."

"Thank you!" She beamed. "I hope the potion lasts long enough for us to play with my new boobies when we get back. Fleur says they're almost B-cups now!"

Johnson's smile took on a pained quality, much to Harry and Fleur's amusement. "Yes, well… I hope you enjoy the movie. I'll tell them that you went for a walk afterwards."

Going to see a film had been Fleur's idea, a bit of a date before their meeting with the vampire since it had to be done after sundown anyway.

Going to the cinema was not a new thing for the three of them. It made for a good social outing that didn't require much in the way of planning while still being entertaining. Plus, Luna had been mildly obsessed with animated movies ever since Harry had taken her to see WALL-E in an attempt to cheer her up after her father's death.

"'Arry, why are we watching this children's movie?" Fleur murmured into his ear.

That was indeed what they were doing, watching an animated children's movie. Strange Magic to be precise, a terribly corny love story set in an even more terribly corny fairy tale setting.

"Because Luna really wanted to see it and we're both too weak to say no to her when she gives us that pleading look." Harry replied in the same low tone, glancing to his left at the age-potioned blonde, who was currently happily humming along to one of the songs pervading these types of movies.

Fleur sighed and looked around the darkened auditorium with a speculative eye. The premiere for this one had been well over a month ago, so the place was far from full, but there were still a few parents who had brought their kids to see it as well as the occasional couple.

"Can you set up a few privacy spells?" She asked.

"Of course, but why?" Harry asked.

Fleur answered him by snaking her hand down to his crotch and giving it a good rub.

"Oh, I see."

With the promise of an entirely different sort of fun, Harry was able to quickly make their immediate area utterly disinteresting to any potential watchers. "Done."

Fleur smiled widely and carefully manouvered herself into a kneeling position between his legs, making sure to not make any sudden movements that would draw attention and disrupt the spell's work.

Off on Harry's left side, Luna glanced at the silver-blonde head bobbing over Harry's lap and smiled. She knew that Harry and Fleur were less interested in the film that she was, so it was nice to see that they'd found other ways to enjoy themselves.

As soon as they made it out onto the street, Fleur stretched like an olympic gymnast, making sounds of satisfaction as her stiff body loosened up.

"Sore?" Harry asked, amused and in a very good mood.

"A bit." Fleur admitted, rubbing her jaw.

"You shouldn't have stayed down there for the whole time." Luna chided gently.

"I regret nothing." The veela said haughtily, smirking as a passing child overheard Luna's words and innocently questioned his mother about them. Judging by the woman's scandalised glare, she'd come to the right conclusion and disapproved. Pfft, as if she'd never performed a blowjob herself.

"Come on, you can walk off the soreness on the way." Harry said, stepping in between the two blondes and placing his hands on the small of their backs to get them moving.

That particular cinema had been chosen specifically because it was no more than an hour's walk from the nightclub where New York's vampire mistress could be found.

Once they arrived, Harry stared distastefully at the building

It was a nightclub, as he'd known, but did this Ophelia absolutely have to be such a stereotype? The place exuded an incredibly cliché dark and broody air. It was even called 'The Nest' of all things. Vampire nest, har har, so clever.

Why did it have to be this kind of place?

Dora had tried to get him to go to a nightclub with her a few times back when they'd been together, but he had done like a boulder and refused to move. Fleur had tried it too, with identical results. He could enjoy a date with a beautiful woman as much as the next guy, but mostly to places with less people, booze and loud music.

Of course, once the two women had become friends, they had simply gone together and left him at home, though he doubted the places they visited were anything like this one. If Harry were a jealous man, that would have bothered him intensely. Fortunately he was not and had simply wished them a good time. It helped that he had no concerns of Fleur hooking up with another man. People with no magic were as sexually interesting to a veela as a stone and he was always happy to keep her hunger for magic sated.

And now here he was, about to willingly enter a nightclub. The Universe sure did like these little ironies.

"I didn't think it was this kind of place." Fleur murmured at his side.

"Come on, let's go in." Luna said, tugging on his arm with obvious excitement. She'd been hyped about meeting a vampire ever since he'd told her about Bjomolf.

"That's why we're here I guess." Harry sighed and they made for the door. If it wasn't for Fleur and Luna, he might have just turned around and left.

There was no doorman or lines of people waiting to enter like one might expect of a nightclub, so they were able to enter without issue.

The inside of the club continued the dark, broody theme. The space itself was dominated by a large, circular bar surrounded by a dance floor, with booths lining the walls. The lighting seemed to shift between dark red and dark purple, the decor featured spiderwebs, chains and some more esoteric additions. The music was currently gloomy enough to match and the people frequenting it were an odd bunch, some fairly nondescript, others ranging from mildly goth to looking like they were desperately trying to prove that they were something other than vanilla human. And failing at it.

Only a rare few of those present had an aura of magic and they tended to look the least silly, though there was one young woman with the peculiar aura of a squib that had an egregious amount of buckles in her outfit.

Harry didn't pay any of it more than cursory attention, his interest firmly captured by the barely perceptible magic that seemed to hang over the entire club area like a cloud of smoke. He'd never seen anything like it.

It was very subtle for one, subtle enough that he doubted anything but a very thorough check with detection spells would reveal it. It also didn't have the the rigid nature that most wanded magic had, which was part of what made it so subtle. How interesting. It also made it hard to discern its purpose. In short, he had no idea what this enchantment did and that made him nervous.

Fleur didn't let him just stand there and stare blankly at the air while he examined the fascinating new magic and tugged him towards the bar. He had something new to stare at as soon as he caught sight of one of the bartenders.

That she was a vampire was obvious, and not just because her aura was hungry darkness.

About the only thing about her that didn't stand out was her height, which was neither especially short nor tall. The dark ambient lighting did nothing to hide the marble-like pallor of her skin or the snowy whiteness of her hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. The tight black leather corset she was wearing propped up a sizable pair of breasts and the similarly tight black leather pants finished off the vampire image. Even the grace with which she moved was obviously unnatural if you knew what to look for.

Harry was finally starting to put the picture together here. She clearly had an extreme case of albinism, which would have made subtlety hard. Instead of fighting an uphill battle, she played up her condition as much as possible, letting people assume that she was some sort of vampire wannabe.

She was certainly popular with the crowd, if the group of people, ages ranging from barely legal to thirty, that were clustered around the bar like puppies looking for a scrap of attention was any clue.

Perhaps this hammy, over the top nightclub was slightly more clever than he'd initially thought.

Though the albino vampire's clever use of what would normally be a weakness was interesting, Harry was more curious about the fact that the odd magic he could sense in the air swirled around her like a slow, ponderous whirlpool.

It took the three of them a little work to squeeze past a group of teens, though it got amusingly simple when a couple of the boys caught sight of Fleur and nearly fell over themselves in their haste to make room for her. Heh, even edgy goths weren't immune to a veela's beauty.

The vampire glided over to them in an instant, despite having been nearly on the other side of the bar when they'd arrived.

"Good evening." She greeted with fangs openly displayed, speaking in a high, soft voice that should not have carried over the loud music. Her lips were nearly colorless and her eyes as red as blood. "I am Ophelia."

No lesser vampire to greet them this time? Curious.

"Hi!" Luna chirped, leaning on the counter with her elbows. "I'm Luna."

The blood red eyes flicked over to him and a tense Fleur. "And your friends?"

"Fleur." The veela said shortly. Harry had no doubt that she was feeling mightily uncomfortable being so close to the vampire even though she had wanted to meet one almost as much as Luna. Their respective natures were just so fundamentally different that discomfort was a given.

"Harry." He said.

"Luna, Fleur and Harry." The albino vampire said and Harry felt a small shift in the magic permeating the air. Something had just happened and he couldn't tell what. Shit. "Would you care for a drink?"

"We're fine." Harry said before either of the girls could speak. The strange, pervasive enchantment didn't feel hostile, but he wasn't going to trust any food or drink in this place, paranoid as it might be.

"Hmm. Perhaps a more quiet place then? Please follow me."

The magic in the air reacted again, washing over them gently with a feeling of trust-safety-acceptance-understanding . It wasn't the same as the Joining, being a definite spell of some sort as he could now tell it affected the non-magicals as well. Harry himself could recognise the otherness of it and ignore it, but Luna and Fleur didn't look like they were aware of it, their senses not as attuned. That could be trouble.

Harry grabbed both of them around the waist and expanded his aura to cover them, keeping the foreign magic away. Luna and Fleur quickly settled against him and didn't try to leave, though they must have sensed what he was doing.

Ophelia's red eyes briefly gleamed with interest as she started walking. She must have felt it too.

Ah well, as he had told Dora not long ago, 'that which takes us far is never comfortable' and they had come here to meet a vampire, so they followed after the pale predator.

Ophelia navigated the crowded club with ease, the groups of people seeming to make way for her almost as if by instinct. Even more curiously, Harry could tell that whatever strange enchantment lingered in the air was once again involved in making this happen. He would love to research it… as soon as he got his girls away from its area of influence.

Harry also noticed the envious looks on everyone they passed and had the distinct suspicion that it was not because he was holding two beautiful women, but because they had Ophelia's attention. The vampire probably could have asked to feed from any of these people and they would just about cream their undies in excitement. Creepy shit. More so because he wasn't sure if the silly buggers even needed to be bespelled to achieve that effect with the general 'vampires are cool' vibe he was getting from this place.

They quickly made it away from the main area, up two flights of stairs and into what Harry presumed was Ophelia's office. It was a cozy space, and much more subdued in tone in comparison to the main club area it overlooked, though the light was still very dim. Perhaps Ophelia was photosensitive? It would make sense. Harry took a quick glance out the window and noticed that the space below was too large for the building it was in, something that had escaped his attention before. A Space Expansion Charm that played tricks on the eyes and minds of those within the space itself. Clever.

Ophelia turned to face them once they were all inside and spoke in a soft, almost hypnotic voice."I have been expecting you."

The strange magic went to work again, moving outward from the vampire with like a gentle breeze of trust-safety-comfort-acceptance .

"Stop that." Harry said tightly, forming his aura into a bulwark against the intruding magic. It was insidious and subtle rather than forceful, so it was easily deflected… if you knew it was there. He had the sense that very few, if any, did.

"I was merely curious." Ophelia said with the same soft, almost hypnotic, tone. Her blood red eyes shimmered in the low light. She must have fed recently.

"What was she doing?" Fleur asked tensely, stepping closer to him.

"There is some kind of spell in effect over the whole building." Harry explained, keeping a wary eye on the vampire. "I'm not sure of its full function, but it seems to influence people to trust her."

"This is a place for those who feel adrift on the tides of life, the despondent, lonely and forlorn. They come to me and I take care of them."

Harry internally scoffed at the cheesy sales pitch, but he had a feeling that a lot of the fools in the club below ate it up like hot cakes. Add the magic to it and they would probably serve up their own parents to her as a snack before offering to suck on her toes or something. If Harry was at all interested in the welfare of people he didn't know, that may have bothered him.

"Well we're none of that, and would appreciate not having magic used on us without our consent."

"Of course, it was discourteus to forget myself so. Please forgive me." Ophelia said, her soft voice brimming with such sincerity as to put the greatest saint to shame. Or the greatest dissembler.

Harry didn't trust this politeness of hers. She was a hundred times more creepy than Bjomolf had been even when he let the mask of humanity slip a little bit.

"You wanted to meet me?" He said instead of directly responding.

"Yes, please make yourselves comfortable." She said, gesturing towards a large couch. "Are you sure I can't offer you something to drink?"

"Yes." He was even less inclined to trust any sort of beverage here than down in the bar. But they did settle into the couch, him in the middle and one of the girls on each side.

"Very well." Ophelia said and sat in a large armchair as if it was a throne, back straight and legs crossed. Something in her manor shifted as well, becoming more authoritative. "I apologise for disrupting your plans, but I couldn't pass up an opportunity to meet the sorcerer for whom Bjomolf saw fit to bend the rules."

"Bend the rules?" Harry repeated with a frown.

"You should have been observed longer before being contacted." The vampire explained. "Secrecy is paramount to our survival and we do not compromise it lightly. Bjomolf risked much in speaking to you so soon. Some would say too much."

"Would you?" Harry asked, wondering if it would come to a fight after all. Unlike his first encounter with a vampire, he was prepared this time. All three of them had bracelets on that were actually Portkeys and could be activated at a moment's notice.

"Bjomolf is the oldest of those who remain and was a friend to my sire. I will trust in his wisdom."

"That's nice to hear." Harry muttered, slightly startled to hear that Bjomolf was the oldest vampire alive. He'd half expected some dusty ancient to be molding away in a coffin somewhere, not that a thousand plus years was anything to sneeze at

"Though I am dismayed that you saw fit to share the secret with your women." Ophelia continued, her voice softly admonishing.

Harry felt Fleur bristling and squeezed her hand before she could snap out a retort. She was still very much unnerved by their host's cold, Dark aura and it was making her agitated and defensive.

"I trust Fleur and Luna with all my secrets." And he did. It had taken him quite a while to share everything, but he had eventually.

"Perhaps you will trust me with your reason for coming to North America then? I may be able to provide you with further assistance than just having my dear Frank giving President Becker edited reports."

Harry understood the implication. I did something for you, now you do something for me. There was also the fact that she could have 'dear Frank' edit his reports in such a way as to make things more difficult for him rather than less, though she did not seem to be implying that she would .

Annoying as this whole song and dance was, Harry understood why it was happening. He was being tested to see if Bjomolf really had made the right decision in talking to him. Ophelia might have said that she trusted in his wisdom, but that didn't mean she wouldn't test.

While he didn't really want to talk about his plans out of sheer principle, they were nothing special and he didn't want to make needless enemies.

"Nothing too exciting. Read some books, learn some history, see what I can find out about what the local magic was like before the European wizards showed up. Sirius also wants to make a detour to Las Vegas and I want to check out some Aztec ruins."

"Of the magics of the native tribes of North America, you will learn little." Ophelia said. "Their shamans and medicine men passed the knowledge on to their successors orally and much of it was lost during the genocide of their people. The few that remain alive among them guard their secrets zealously and do not trust outsiders."

"So they won't talk to me even if I track one down?" Harry asked, disappointed by her answering nod.

"In truth, they likely do not know much that you would find interesting anyway, not anymore. Their more impressive magics, such as the Skinwalking which allowed one an unlimited number of animal forms and the ability to connect to the land, have been, allegedly, lost."

"Allegedly?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There have been no credible accounts of anyone using such magics in centuries."

"No credible accounts?"

"People sometimes tell unsubstantiated stories of having seen men adorned in animal skin - or perhaps animals with human features - running alongside their cars on the open highway before vanishing into the surrounding wilderness."

"And where do these stories typically take place?" Harry asked casually, already planning to employ the local ravens and crows as scouts. If there were Skinwalkers still around, then surely ten thousand searching eyes would find them. they might find other things as well.

"Mostly across the Southwestern United States, specifically Arizona, Utah and New Mexico."

"Thank you for telling me this." Harry said sincerely.

"A warning for you, Sorcerer." Ophelia said softly, but her gaze was intense. "Skinwalkers have an evil reputation, be wary should you succeed in finding one."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"I am glad." The vampire said, smiling at him so affectionately that Harry had to blink in surprise before recalling that he suspected Ophelia of using her pale and frail appearance to manipulate people. "You are an interesting man, Harry Potter. It would be a shame to lose you."

Fleur bristled at his side again and he gave her leg a pat to settle her down, mildly amused at the unexpected show of jealousy. Not a whiff of it when he hopped from bed to bed, but a compliment from a vampire that he wouldn't even consider screwing and she was ready to pick a fight. There was a lot of fear under it though.

"I don't suppose my visit to the Aztec ruins is going to be completely without problems?" He asked sardonically.

"Your presence there will be noted and remarked upon if you are seen of course, but I foresee no trouble." Ophelia replied.

Harry was surprised. "Really? You mean nobody is going to tell me that it's a restricted area or that I need a special permit to be there?"

"Neither the North nor the South American magical governments bother with such things. Why should they when nobody wants to stay there to begin with? You are hardly the first curious scholar with an interest in studying the 'curse' of Mesoamerica."

"Huh, that's the first positive impression of the local magical government I've had so far."

"Yes, I have heard that you chafe under their many regulations."

"I'm honestly surprised there hasn't been a revolt with how controlling they are." Harry grunted with a scowl.

"You should have seen it a century or more ago." Ophelia chuckled, grinning at him toothily. "Only government employees were allowed to carry their wands at all times, others had to secure them at school or their place of work and many were not allowed to own them at all."

Harry could only stare back at the vampire in disbelief.

"Why would they do that?" He asked.

"It is a relic of more unstable times. After the killings of the goblins and purebloods that sought to turn this place into an extension of Europe's magical world, there was much uncertainty. The victors of that struggle were fearful of any attempts by the infuriated old familis in Europe to place them back under their yoke, rightfully so as there were several such attempts made. It took decades for the situation to truly stabilise and many of the mundane world's prejudices leaked through during that time. The strict control over who could use magic kept a semblance of order. President Becker is actually considered very progressive in his views and has done much to soothe the various hatreds that have plagued the politics of the Magical Congress since its founding, but he too cannot fathom a world where wizards and witches are allowed to use their magic with no oversight."

Well that gave a bit of context to the matter. Penny had certainly been given the cliff notes version when she had talked to that American ambassador.

"And there hasn't been any Dark Lords trying to take over?" Harry asked, genuinely interested.

"Not in the way that you would know them in Europe. The Aurors here are considerably more brutal in their responses to any sort of insurgency. Your Voldemort did some recruiting here, but he lost almost as many people as he gained from it."

"I guess there are upsides." Harry admitted grudgingly. He still wouldn't dream of living in any place this regulated and controlled, but he was objective enough to admit that the average witch or wizard was probably better off.

"And there are downsides." Ophelia said with a smile. "As has always been the case, strict regulation creates a thriving black market to get around the regulation."

Harry stared at the faintly smiling vampire suspiciously for a moment. That had sounded kind of like an admission that she had her fingers in said black market, which would figure really. How else had Johnson gotten his hands on that Aging Potion after all. In fact, this sounded almost like an offer to partake in said black market should he need to.

"Why are you so pale?" Luna piped up randomly in the momentary conversational lull, apparently dying to know. "Harry said that the other two vampires he'd seen looked normal."

Ophelia smiled slightly, showing a hint of fang. "I have albinism."

"Albinism?" Luna repeated, frowning in confusion.

"It's a birth defect that causes a loss of pigmentation in the body." Harry explained, glancing back towards the vampire. "Though I didn't think it affected magicals." Wizards and witches were generally impervious to the many diseases and defects that plagued the mundane portion of humanity. The only diseases they suffered were of magical origin themselves.

"It does not." Ophelia replied to the implied question. "It was only after my Turning that the color leeched out of me."

So that meant that her magic had been keeping the condition at bay until she had been Turned… how interesting. Why would it do that? And why would it stop? Well obviously it had stopped because Ophelia had been Turned, but what was the significance of that?

The Sun, it had to be about the Sun. He'd already known that magic protected wizards and witches from getting sunburned, but had not thought much of it, assuming that it was simply an extension of that instinctive self-protection that reduced damage from sudden trauma. But this pointed out to it being something more.

"Does he do this often?" He vaguely registered a soft female voice asking. It sounded amused.

"Sometimes." Another female voice answered. "He should snap out of it soon."

The Sun, a blazing furnace of magic that was, along with its fellow stars, responsible for everything that existed in the Solar System. He'd long suspected that all magic on Earth had its origins from the same source as well, but had nothing more than speculation to go on. The Sun was life, energy and Light. Was it some interaction between Ophelia's magic and that mighty source that prevented her albinism from showing until she had turned away from it and embraced the cold Dark of the Void?

Harry felt an elbow dig into his ribs and his eyes snapped towards Fleur, who was staring at him pointedly. He gave her a reassuring smile and turned back to their host.

"What did you look like before?"

A snowy white eyebrow went up in amused curiousity. "I was blonde and blue-eyed."

Those features were somewhat rare outside of Scandinavia, which he doubted she was from. There was no discernible accent to her English, but her name, if it was the one she had been born with, indicated British origin.

"What about the rest of your family?"

"They had darker hair."

Harry's mind jumped to Narcissa, who had been born blonde and blue-eyed when everyone else in her family had darker coloring. He had assumed it was just a quirk of magic that caused genetics to hiccup like that, but maybe it was something else. Was that how albinism manifested itself in wizards and witches?

"Interesting." He muttered to himself. Yes, it was very interesting. Interesting enough that Harry found himself contemplating ways to convince Narcissa of the benefits of vampirism. He didn't know how she felt about getting old, but if she wanted immortality…

Well, it was something to keep in mind. There was no guarantee that anyone would be willing to Turn her to begin with, but if the circumstances aligned then he would very much like to know what would happen to a vampiric Narcissa.

"You are thinking of your associate, Narcissa Black, formerly Malfoy." Ophelia stated, startling him momentarily before he conceded that these vampires probably knew quite a lot of things and Narcissa was hardly a well kept secret.

"Yes." Harry admitted.

"You suspect that she would become as pale as I if she were Turned."

"Yes."

"She likely would." Ophelia confirmed, smirking at his surprised look. "We have had centuries to puzzle out the truth of such occurences and it is not hard to see the pattern between albino vampires and blondes born into dark haired families."

That was kind of anti-climactic . Harry huffed internally. Still, he'd gotten some interesting information to chew on even if the 'mystery' had been resolved immediately.

"Are you going to try turning Narcissa into a vampire, Harry?" Luna questioned.

"That's not my decision to make." Harry replied, which he knew wasn't really the answer to Luna's question.

Ophelia stood up then, causing Fleur and Harry to also shoot to their feet, dragging Luna with them.

Ophelia pretended not to notice the twitchy defensive reaction. Her manner once again became more mild and approachable. "Forgive me, but I should return to tending the bar. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Harry, Fleur and Luna."

She extended a marble pale hand and Harry hesitated only a moment before grasping it in a handshake. "Likewise."

Luna and Fleur also shook hands with the vampire and only then did Ophelia speak again. "Please feel free to stay and enjoy yourselves if you wish."

Harry carefully did not glance at Fleur as he responded. "I think we'll be calling it a night."

"As you wish. Frank will continue to cover for you as he can, but only as long as you do not attract undue attention to yourselves."

"We appreciate it." Harry said with nod.

"Perhaps we will speak again and share drinks before you go back home?" Ophelia hinted.

With the way she was staring at his jugular, Harry could guess what kind of drink she was angling for.

"Perhaps." He replied non-committally. Ophelia was still creepy as fuck, but she had helped them out.

"What a creepy woman." Fleur said with a shudder as they filed back into their room.

"I liked her, she seemed nice." Luna added in.

"Nice, yes, but just so….so…" The veela was unable to properly articulate her misgivings.

"Dark?" Harry offered helpfully.

"Yes!" Fleur said, rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill. "Did you feel it too? That sense that she was going to kill us all at any moment?"

"No." Harry replied, making her deflate. "That was probably a result what she is. You felt unnerved by me too, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but not like this!" Fleur protested. "She felt like a hole in the world."

"You really don't want to get near a dementor if this is what a vampire makes you feel." Harry noted, slightly amused.

"Certainly not." Fleur agreed empathically, recalling old stories about those monsters and how they seemed to enjoy eating veela even more than wizards and witches. She had often thought the British barbaric and stupid to use them as prison guards, but all veela were glad to have them confined to Azkaban instead of scattered across the world for anyone to stumble on.

Further discussion was put on hold as Sirius knocked and entered without waiting for a response.

"I thought I heard you coming back." He remarked, looking at them curiously. "How was the film?"

"Amazing." Harry said, exchanging a smirk with Fleur.

"Well I'm glad one of us had a good time." Sirius pouted.

"Oh? And what was so terrible about your evening?" Fleur asked teasingly, glad to move onto something other than the creepy vampire. "Did Laney not want to sleep with you?"

"Pffft, no, I already shagged her three days ago. These American birds dig a British accent." Sirius waved off the absurd notion that a woman wouldn't want to sleep with him. "The problem was that she wanted me to meet her friends and sprung a surprise group outing on me!"

"So?" Luna asked, not getting what the problem was.

"Don't you see?" Sirius said indignantly. "First they take you to meet her friends, then her parents and then they start talking about moving in together and before you know it you're on the road to Marital Hell."

"I can hear you capitalising that." Harry said flatly. "'Marital Hell' is not a geographic location, it doesn't get capitalised."

"Hell isn't a real place either, but it gets capitalised." Sirius argued stubbornly. "Marital Hell deserves to be capitalised on account of being far worse. You only get tortured in Hell, in Marital hell, you get shackled to just one woman. And the in-laws, oh sweet Merlin, the in-laws."

Fleur leaned over to Harry to whisper in his ear. "We need to go to France one day and take him with us. I have some distant cousins that would love to put a leash on him."

"I'm tempted to go along with that plan just to see him following a veela around like a lost puppy." Harry muttered back.

"Hey, what are you two whispering about?" Sirius asked, staring at them suspiciously.

"Nothing, Sirius. Nothing at all."

"Well anyway, we need to get out of here. Staying at an inn is incredibly awkward when the receptionist is your ex, trust me on this."

"You're in luck, because I was going to suggest that very thing in the morning." Harry said.

"Oh good, we're finally going to Vegas. Honestly, what was the point of coming to this side of the Atlantic if you're just going to stay in your room and read books?" Sirius complained.

"Because I can barely trust what Americans have to say about America, nevermind the British." Harry riposted. "And Vegas wasn't what I had in mind as our next destination."

"Tough, because that's where we're going. I need some irresponsible fun and whatever you had in mind is probably boring as shite."

"It is not." Harry argued weakly, knowing full well that camping somewhere in Arizona's wilderness and waiting for his ravens to bring him word of any Skinwalkers they may have found was indeed kind of boring.

"Vegas could be fun." Fleur chimed in. "And it's in Nevada, isn't it? That's pretty close to where you were thinking of having us go anyway."

The thing was, Harry didn't really want to go to Vegas. It simply didn't appeal to him. Unfortunately, he seemed to be outnumbered and he didn't want to force the other to go along with his wishes.

"Luna, what do you think?" He asked.

"Maybe there are snorkacks in Vegas." The still age-potioned girl said, which essentially translated to her being curious about it.

"Fine, I guess we're going to Vegas." Harry said in defeat.

"No need to be so excited about it." Sirius said with a roll of the eyes.

"If you end up doing something iredeemably stupid, like say getting drunkenly married to a transgender prostitute, I will confirm the marriage and welcome her or him or them or whatever into the Black family." Harry warned petulantly.

Sirius wasn't going to let his godson see him shudder at the idea. "If that happens, then I'll expect you to learn enough Necromancy to bring my parents back from the dead so we can introduce them to my blushing bride." They'd probably re-die on the spot.

"Deal."

Meanwhile, back in Britain. Potter Manor.

It was time to face facts. Tonks didn't want to do that because it cast aspersions her identity as a strong, independent woman that could get by perfectly fine on her own, but the truth was what it was.

She was desperately bored.

Or perhaps lonely might be a better word. She had gotten used to having girlfriends in Fleur and Luna to do stuff with and even if they weren't shagging anymore, Harry was still fun to be around. Sometimes.

Now, with all of them gone, she was back in the same place she'd been in before, the place where life consisted of work and vegging out at home with far too much time to think. It was a worse spot than she'd been in before actually, because all the methods she'd once used to occupy her free time were less appealing now than they'd once been.

Going out for some fun was so much more fun with company and the last few one night stands she'd picked up had left her feeling profoundly disappointed and unsatisfied. Damn Harry and his tingly Sex Magic skills. Damn him for using the Joining. How dare he use morally questionable magic to make her feel good. Damn Fleur for her constant subtle hints that she was welcome to join in on the fun. Damn sexy veela with her perfect arse and perfect tits and perfect face that you couldn't even resent because she was more than willing to share them. Damn Luna for obliviously insisting that Tonks would be a perfect addition to the group.

And damn her stupid brain for dredging up vivid fantasies of what it would be like to be part of a sweaty, four-way tangle of bodies every time she scratched her itch.

But that was not her immediate problem. At the moment, her most pressing concern was boredom and loneliness, hence her reason for sprawling on one of Potter Manor's couches and pouting. Metaphorically speaking that was. Aurors didn't really pout.

She'd come here hoping to kill some time by talking to Penny, but the former Ravenclaw had apparently gone to visit her parents or something. Teeny had asked if she wanted a sandwich earlier and stared at her so hopefully that Tonks couldn't bring herself to say no even though she hadn't been hungry. At least she wasn't the only one missing people.

The only ones in the manor aside from her were Narcissa and that werewolf friend of Sirius', Remus Lupin.

Harry was a cruel, cruel man to make her snobby, bigoted aunt work with a werewolf on a constant basis. She approved.

She'd talked to Remus a few times. He was a decent guy and was painfully obviously crushing on her.

Tonks was honest enough with herself to admit that she might have been interested once upon a time. Remus was an older man, which she liked. The lycanthropy could have been worked around, as it was only in the week before and after the Full Moon that sex carried a risk of infection. Tonks might have actually considered it a bonus at one point, as it gave Remus the mysterious air of a man burdened by a curse.

Now she couldn't tune out that voice in her head that made cutting, cynical observations about the man all the time, pointing out how he wasn't so much 'burdened by a curse' as he was by self-pity. It sounded a lot like Harry.

The voice made equally cutting observations about her own past inclinations to be drawn towards men with issues. Snape came to mind, a schoolgirl crush that she was taking to the grave with her. The imaginary voice of Harry inside her head was sarcastic enough without adding the real one to it, thank you very much.

Come to think of it, that voice had no business being so fucking sarcastic. Harry was hardly the model of a well-adjusted teenager, what with his nearly obsessive study of any kind of magic, his rush to grow up and his disturbingly ice-cold reaction to the people he'd killed. In fact, Harry probably had more issues than all the men she'd ever been attracted to combined, he was just better at pretending that he didn't have them. Figures that she'd find him the most interesting out of all the men she knew, the Nymphadora Tonks approach to romance strikes again.

"Nymphadora?" The perplexed voice cut through her introspection like a knife.

"Don't call me that." She snapped out reflexively, glaring at the offending speaker, who happened to be her aunt. "What do you want?"

Narcissa straightened her posture and Tonks knew that the woman must be fighting down her initial response in favor of something more polite.

"Nothing, I was just surprised to see you here." Narcissa finally said.

"Right." Tonks said and the air became stilted and awkward as it always did between them on the rare occasions that they exchanged words.

Tonks had expected Narcissa to make her excuses and leave as she usually did when this happened, but her aunt was still standing there awkwardly.

Just as she was thinking of commenting on the weather for no other reason than to fill the silence, Narcissa finally spoke up again.

"Um, does your mother still live in the same place?" She asked, trying to hide her nervousness behind the usual icy composure and not being entirely successful.

"Why do you want to know?" Tonks demanded suspiciously. She didn't know much about the relationship between Narcissa and her mother, but she knew that they were not on good terms.

"She's my sister and it's been a long time since I've seen her." Narcissa said.

And whose fault is that? Tonks thought to herself caustically. She might not have the details, but she could well imagine what a snobby pureblood like her aunt would have to say to the sister that had married a muggleborn.

Still, it wasn't really any of her business and Andromeda Tonks was no pushover. She'd be able to handle her baby sister.

"Yeah, she still lives in the same place."

"Thank you." Narcissa said with a smile and Tonks blinked at how genuine that looked and sounded. Damn, if this kept up she might actually start to like her aunt.

The blonde witch left soon after that and Tonks quickly realised that she was now alone in the manor with a lovesick werewolf.

Awkward. Time to make a tactical retreat back to her apartment.

Narcissa took a deep breath to fortify herself as her destination came within sight.

The house was nothing much to look at. It didn't stand out from any of the others in the small village it was located in. The only thing that made it in any way special was the witch and wizard that lived in it, those being her long estranged sister Andromeda and her husband Ted Tonks.

She had been thinking about doing this since before Harry had gone on his trip to America and had run out of excuses to justify delaying it. If she could get along with Sirius and have a civil - if stilted - conversation with Nymphadora, she could at least try to patch up her relationship with Andromeda.

It was hard though. The unassuming little house seemed to loom larger than Hogwarts with the promise of her sister's disdain. The last time they had seen each other, over twenty years ago now, angry and bitter words had been exchanged.

As she came closer, she noticed that there was someone working in the lush garden that sprawled in front of the house. A female someone with long, dark brown hair.

Andromeda had always had a bit of a green thumb, something that their parents had disapproved of, claiming that digging in the dirt was for commoners. Narcissa recalled making a few snide quips on the subject herself that she now wished she hadn't. There were a lot of things she wished she hadn't said.

The sight of her sister made her want to bolt, but she stiffened her spine and kept walking. She could do this. Still, it was a good thing that Andromeda was outside, or she might have lost her nerve when faced with the need to knock on the door. As it was, this was her third attempt, the first two having ended with a retreat back to Malfoy Manor when she had come within sight of the house.

Andromeda couldn't see her approach, crouched as she was in the other direction while she dug in the soil with a small garden spade, but there was nothing wrong with her ears.

Narcissa mustered up a nervous smile as Andromeda turned towards her. Andromeda's own smile turned to surprise and then turned stony.

"What do you want?" She spat, turning back to her work with more vehemence that strictly necessary.

"Can't I visit my sister?" Narcissa asked weakly.

"You made it clear we aren't sisters anymore the last time we spoke."

Narcissa didn't flinch at the hostility, having expected it, but it still stung though.

"I'm sorry."

Andromeda finally stopped stabbing the ground, but she didn't turn around.

"Why are you here, Narcissa?"

She wished Andromeda would look at her.

"I want my sister back."

"Azkaban is up north."

"My other sister, the nice one."

"I'm not a Black anymore."

"Harry would gladly welcome you back, your daughter is a good friend of his." Harry would have also gladly confirmed Nymphadora as a Black, but that he couldn't do. The Metamorphmagus had been born with her mother disowned and was legally barred from being considered a Black, a precaution put into place by the old families centuries ago to prevent the offspring of disowned members from making claims. Even if Andromeda was welcomed back into the fold, the law still applied.

"Sirius already offered, but I turned him down. The last thing that I had to do with that wretched family was to take a piss on Druella's grave after the bitch died."

Narcissa nearly choked on her shock. Druella had been their mother, though Andromeda clearly didn't consider her that anymore. No real surprise there. Druella Black neé Rosier had not been a pleasant woman, not even to her daughters. Perhaps especially not to her daughters. Narcissa had been their mother's favorite for whatever reason, perhaps her coloring or perhaps because she had always played the part of the perfect daughter. Bellatrix and Andromeda on the other hand, had attracted their mother's wrath like a magnet attracted iron.

"How did it feel?" She asked, biting her lip to keep down an inappropriate giggle. She really should not be laughing at this, but even Narcissa had no fondness for her mother, having lived in fear of the woman's mercurial moods. Perhaps Bellatrix would have been less cruel, less ruined if not for their mother's half-mad shrieking and liberal use of pain spells as a parenting tool.

Andromeda finally turned around to look at her as she answered.

"Not as good as pissing on her while she was alive would have been, but good enough." She said, standing up to look her in the eye. "You're dressed like a muggle."

It was true. Narcissa had come here wearing blue jeans and a white pullover. Aside from being less conspicuous than robes in this muggle village, she was also hoping to make an impression on her sister. Only a pair of old dragon hide boots were of magical origin.

"I've had to adjust to a lot of things recently." She said by way of explanation.

Andromeda snorted and went back to her gardening. "I'll bet you did. Too proud to work for a living but not so proud that you'd be unwilling to spread your legs for your husband's killer."

Andromeda might not be a Black anymore, but she could still hold a grudge like one. Her sharp tongue hadn't dulled any either.

Narcissa pushed down the angry response she wanted to make. She'd known this wasn't going to be easy.

And Andromeda was sort of right anyway. She had gone to Harry because she didn't want to work for a living. It was a lot more complicated than that of course, involving things like loss of reputation and the various consequences of such, but that was the essence of it.

"I would do anything for my son." Narcissa said, not wasting time playing coy as she did with anyone else that probed into her relationship with Harry. "Spreading my legs for a handsome young man is the least of it."

Andromeda merely grunted in response, but Narcissa thought she could hear at least a hint of respect in it.

The conversation had stalled though and Narcissa was mentally scrambling for something to keep it going.

"Can I help?" She finally asked.

Andromeda turned her head and gave her a disbelieving dark-eyed stare. That was fair enough, as Narcissa had once been famous for her hatred of Herbology class.

"Your clothes will get dirty." Andromeda mocked.

A complaint that Narcissa had made often during her Hogwarts years.

"The house-elves will wash them."

A retort that Andromeda had usually made in response to her complaints, when she was around to hear them.

"Do you even know what to do?" Andromeda asked skeptically.

Narcissa didn't really, but she smiled brightly at her big sister anyway, because that was as good an acceptance of her presence as she could hope for right now.