Whose Universe Are We In?

23

July 23rd

“Fuck!” Dan dropped his phone in shock, then fumbled around to find it, all too aware that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. The blue light had gone out. Swearing and bumping into furniture as he crawled about, he finally heard his husband’s voice, “What the hell are you doing, Dan, it’s gone four in the morning?”

Laying his hand on his phone, Dan crowed, “Need my glasses. Accio glasses” and they sailed through the air. Dan caught them and put them on, taking a deep breath. “My sister’s sent me a text and all I can read is the word, ‘urgent’. Even if it is our wedding night, such a thing naturally leads me to investigate. Give me a sec”, and Dan stared at the phone’s screen.

“Shit, that’s what I thought it said”, he muttered darkly, as Alan came up beside him, rubbing boozy sleep from his eyes. “All right, what do we have here?”, he quizzed his new husband. Dan found the message and passed it over. Alan stared at it until the light faded. “She’s found him? Perhaps we need to go online. But not now, love. Let us do this in the morning, or at least later in the morning. Come back to bed with me, my love. My bonded lover. Mine. My own”. As he said this, his arms snaked around his husband and he smiled as Dan relaxed in his arms and allowed himself to be led back to bed. It was miles too early to be embroiled in stuff, more sleep was needed. Alan kissed and held Dan, gently convincing him that to wait meant they could come at things fresh and they both slept the rest of their wedding night away.

****

The interruption of the night forgotten for now, as they emerged from the blanket of sleep it was to raging desire from them both. Dan’s eyes were a deep emerald as he gazed into Alan’s to see the deepest obsidian looking back. Then they fell on each other, less than clear-headed but dazed and consumed with lust and love, revelling in their newly-bonded state and kissed despite or because of sour early morning taste, who cared, they kissed and rolled and hardened and thrust and one found the other open and willing while the other fingered and opened and fitted cock-head to fluttering, pulsating hole then dived, into warm and willing heat, velvet-warm and soul-snug and started to fuck, starting slow and building to such wild abandon that Alan, on his back, came untouched, as Dan ploughed him and took him, until he filled him and exulted, shouting into the cool dungeon air before collapsing with Alan’s legs still wrapped around him, holding him in, keeping his dick snugly cased in wet warmth even as it softened and Alan kissed his temple and laughed softly, pouring his love into Dan’s mind. Dan imagined that this was what dying and going to heaven was supposed to feel like and smiled as his head laid on his beloved’s shoulder.

His voice didn’t work so he used his mind. {I love you, Alan}, it stuttered as his arms tightened. Alan, his mind awash with images from his lover murmured, {I love you too}, mind-to-mind, and clutched his Danny to him in the aftermath of swift and quickly spent love, happy to feel Dan cling to him. He volunteered, {I am yours for life, you realise that, don’t you? It is an after-effect of the bonding....it means....}, and Dan was silencing him with a kiss, {Shut up, Alan, let me just ravish that delicious mouth}, and Alan shut up and did just that, to his delight. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew his Danny was for keeps and he smiled around Dan’s questing tongue.

They missed breakfast altogether. It was as they finally dressed for lunch that Alan said, “Don’t you think you ought to read the email from your sister?” Dan sighed as he tried to do something with his hair, “I know. I’m putting it off. Will you come with me?” Alan came up behind Dan in the mirror and threaded his arms around him, leaning down and brushing his lips over Dan’s neck enough to make him shudder, “Of course I will. You don’t have to face this alone”, then licked and Dan moaned. Planting a last lingering suck, Alan backed away and viewed the slight pink mark then looked at Dan’s face in the mirror, smirking at the sight of his man.

In a daze, Dan pulled away and packed up his laptop and the attendant bits and pieces, zipping up the bag with determination. Holding out a hand as he hefted it to his shoulder, Alan grasped the proffered hand, and together they left their quarters.

Alan could feel Dan’s agitation, both across the bond slightly but mainly by the feel of Dan’s sweaty palm in his. The walk across the castle seemed interminable. They reached their goal in complete silence save for the sound of their footfalls and Alan sat aside once they reached their destination, content to watch as Dan laced everything together. He could tell that his lover, his husband, was nervous. He saw the light sweat sheen on Dan’s skin, watched the way he bit his lip and frowned as the computer booted up. He realised then that this was Danny afraid and that he was instantly beside him with a supportive arm around him. They would face this together.

The dial-up was slow and it took an age for Dan’s home page to load. He went to his favourites list and clicked on his email account, typing in the password before it had fully loaded, sitting back to wait. He leaned on Alan’s shoulder, {I wonder what this is all about. I’m scared, love. Why this and why now?} Alan gave Dan a light squeeze, {It was bound to happen. As a pure-blooded wizard, Draco was bound to call attention to himself in our strange world. Face it, he was kept away from all things pertaining to us ‘muggles’. Perhaps he’s been arrested or something, or has shown himself up somewhere. Or perhaps your sister recognised him in a shopping centre. Who knows, Dan, just open your mail}.

Thus fortified and feeling that the situation mightn’t be so bad after all, Dan opened the mail from his sister, noticing the several attachments that were appended. From the file titles, they looked like either newspaper stories or Internet news stories. There were at least thirty attachments and Dan groaned. His mind muttered, {In the books, this’d be a job for Hermione, not me}. From just over his left shoulder, he heard Alan chuckle, {Don’t worry, love, I’ll do the reading. Budge up and let me nearer the screen}. Dan kissed him lightly and moved.

Concentrating on the screen, Alan’s brow furrowed as he squinted a little, he’d forgotten his reading glasses. He read the opening message,

Bro,

I’ve found him. I’ve kept my eye on the Press. Not the major dailies as such, but the local papers for various districts. Harry and him were always such enemies, I kind of figured he’d want to sort of dance on Potter’s grave, so I took the papers from the area, and sure enough, the police are always moving people off the plot but there’s this one blond guy whose there more often than any other ‘fan’.

Well, read the reports, it’s not good reading. I’m sorry, Dan, but you’ll not be getting Malfoy back in your world. Are you still reading Meggie’s fic? We had the phone cut off here, I’m writing all this at the library on the High Street.

Fuck, Dan, I want to come to you. Mum and Dad are fighting all the time since we ‘buried’ you. Things are not good in this household and I want out. Seriously out.

Anyway, enough of my whinging and on with the show. Here are a series of newspaper clips attached. My phone is still on. I’ll leave you a text. Read this lot and get back to me.

I love you more than I can say, Danny, and I miss you every day. I want to be where you are, it’s killing me knowing you are still alive and I’m not able to tell the folks or even be with you except now and again in cyberspace. That sucks, Dan! That seriously sucks! Make me come over to that side, you bastard, bring me to you, I don’t care if I’m a squib.

Miss you big bruv, miss you all the time.

Stay safe and don’t let voldie-dude get you, okay?

Your sis,

Chrissie xxxxx

One by one, Alan opened the attachments, Dan glued to his side. They told a story of sorts; various folk, mainly young, paying homage to another. Children mourning a child star. Leaving flowers, leaving tearful tweets on Twitter, forlorn eulogies on Facebook, both actors and fans alike. Alan was not neglected either, and the most heartfelt of stories came from his own lady, Rima. As he listened to the podcast on the website, the Leaky Cauldron, tears flowed down his face. Dan sniffed and tried to decide what to do but was pre-empted by Alan clutching him to his side even while he openly wept for the woman he’d left behind.

Then there were the stalker reports and those from Tom Felton’s parents declaring him missing which appeared in the national press as well as the local, although the Police weren’t taking it too seriously, after all the lad was well over the age of consent, but the parents, Tom’s parents, still poured out their grief online, disbelieving that their son would simply run off into the night without contacting them, they’d always been such a close family.....

Dan’s heart went out to them and he actually reached for the screen, his sight blurred by tears, {We need to send him back, Alan}. Alan held tighter, {I know}.

The next attachment they opened consisted of several small clippings from various newspapers, lovingly stuck onto sheets of paper with dates appended as well as the name of the source, scanned as PDF files. Fan letters, clips from books of condolence, which had apparently been set up in towns and cities all over the UK which led Dan to mentally whisper, {Fuck! We’re bigger than Princess Diana}.

The next page consisted mainly of clips of local Fulham newspapers and the regular sightings of a young man with steely blond hair around the graveyard where ‘Dan’ was buried. The real Dan gasped, {Of course! Malfoy is still attracted to his soul-mate! That’s why he’s hanging about the grave. Poor sod. Shall we read the last one?}.

Not liking in the least where this narrative was going, however disjointed, Alan closed that attachment and opened the last.

It was a simple and short article that was referenced as from the ‘Guardian’ two days earlier. It read.

‘DRACO MALFOY’ FOUND DEAD?

And both Dan’s and Alan’s stomachs dropped.

They both read down the article that said that a body had been found lying atop Daniel Radcliffe’s grave, suspected as being that of Thomas Andrew Felton, aged 22 although Tom’s parents were calling for tests, not believing that the boy was their son. There were no signs of foul play and every indication that the poor boy had committed suicide following the death of his best friend in the Harry Potter films, this as the last film was about to be released in cinemas all over the world. The funeral would be on the following Friday.

{Shit! What does this mean?}, Dan asked after a long silence as the information sank home. Alan turned to him, half his face lit by the screen, {It means that possibly Tom can’t go home either. Fuck! What do we tell him?} Dan sighed audibly but replied in his head, {We show him this email and tell ‘im the truth. It’s about time he knew this side of it}. Holding Dan tighter, Alan couldn’t help but agree. This thing was too big for them now. It was time to lay their cards on the table.

With this thought in mind, Dan slowly disassembled his computer, spending extra time rolling away the wires, taking his time as he packed things away, until Alan asked, “Why are you prevaricating?” Dan slumped, “I want to read the story, see how far she’s got. See if we are in the same universe”, and paused in his movements.

Laying a hand on his arm, Alan said, “Go on then, I dare you”, and Dan grinned. Gryffindors never backed away from dares. Withdrawing his laptop once again, he soon had everything plugged in. It took mere moments before he was online again.

He breathed deeply as he dropped down his favourites list, chagrined that this tale was a ‘favourite’ rather than a necessary evil, even if it had been visited several times by him. He sighed as he clicked on the link and the livejournal came up on his screen.

Clicking into ‘his’ story, he scrolled down to the last chapter and paused his mouse over it, the wee hand beneath it on the screen. She had written and published four chapters since his self-imposed embargo. Alan murmured, “Just the most recent. I have no inclination to revisit her adolescent babblings. This is a war we fight here as well as a love story”.

Dan clicked on the link and turned to his lover as it went off to find the chapter, “I know, lover, but it’s still one hell of a love story, you have to admit”. Powerless to resist the bond and the magic flowing through him at these words, Alan relaxed, sinking his face into all that sweet-scented hair, {I know. That’s the best bit about it all. Now let’s read her outpourings, shall we?}, as he glanced at the screen to see the latest instalment ready to read.

Two paragraphs in and they could tell that they were no longer occupants of her universe. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that they had come this far but Dan thought not: the conscious decision to end the association from their end had perhaps been the undoing of this unholy alliance. They seemed to be no longer in her story.

They read of the headmaster dead and his funeral and shook their heads as they smiled at each other. Dan closed it down and shut off his computer. They needed to tell the headmaster about Draco, found stretched out on ‘Dan Radcliffe’s’ earthy mound over which the headstone was yet to be raised.

****

Despite scant information appearing in the Press, each day had seen many pilgrimages, mainly consistent of girls, to the bare earthy site. There were tears and flowers, and, quite often, there was a boy hanging about who, even in jeans and sweatshirts, looked really like Tom Felton playing Draco Malfoy.

He would sit at the head of the grave all day as fans came and paid their respects, offering kind words and sympathy, making himself out to be a lonely grieving fanboy. At night, he hid from the cemetery warden as he made his last rounds then laid himself out amongst the flowers and tributes each night. Harry was down there, he could feel it. Harry was his soul-mate and always had been. Harry had run away from him and had been killed. Along with his lover. Not Draco. He had lost count of the days but he did know Harry’s birthdate and thought that tonight was the night. He still wondered at what Harry and Severus had done and how come they had brought him here.

But that was the night he withdrew the slim phial of aconitine potion from his jeans pocket, the phial that had survived all his wretched adventures. He sat up enough to peer at the contents against the yellow streetlight, a clear, slightly bluish liquid, a mere few drops. Tugging off the cap with his teeth, he held the bottle aloft. Ironic that this very bottle had been brewed by his now-dead godfather for altogether more nefarious purposes. He hefted it in a gesture of ‘cheers’, then quaffed the contents in a single gulp. With the last of his strength, he buried the bottle and cap in the packed soil beneath him, laid down amongst and crushed the day’s flowers and died. He was found the next morning as the sun was coming up by an old lady walking her dog.

****

Dan visibly shook. Alan threaded his long arms around him and pulled him close. Dan was cold to the touch but warmed in Alan’s arms. After a long, stunned silence, he said, “We can’t send Tom home, even after this is all over, can we?” He could feel Alan shake his head, “I very much doubt it”, he murmured. Dan turned to face Alan in the near dark, “What the fuck do we tell Tom?” Alan shrugged, “The truth of course. It hurts more at first but the told is always grateful to the teller in the end”, then seeing the anguish in his beloved’s face, he pulled Dan into his shoulder and held him tight. {I’d say ‘happy birthday’ but that seems wholly inappropriate right now, but for what it’s worth, I really do wish you many and perhaps happier returns of the day}. He could feel Dan slump and eventually sob quietly in his arms. A few tears slid down his own face. Perhaps they should have tried harder to find out how they were brought here and to see if this was a repeatable experiment. Crap! Poor Dan. What a horrid start to his birthday.

He clutched the printouts he had made of Draco’s sad story in the ‘muggle’ press and they both made their way to lunch with heavy hearts and took their places, slumping tiredly in their seats. Albus spotted their defeated behaviour with sharp eyes and quizzed them upon it. By way of reply, Dan fed him the printouts one at a time and watched for his reaction as the final one was added to the heap.

Albus was silent for a long time, his soup cooling before him as he read and re-read the final printout. Eventually he raised weary eyes to the two, seeing their sadness and defeat. He didn’t need to ask. They believed this source. It was then that he knew. Draco Malfoy was really dead, and had died of one of Severus Snape’s poisons as like as not. All Death Eaters, junior and otherwise always carried a phial of something lethal with them, much the same way that muggles had designed the ‘cyanide tooth’, to be crunched down upon in times of dire emergency. Dumbledore recognised the signs. This had been a young man truly at the end of his rope. Sniffing, he pushed the papers back at Dan with a murmured, “Thank you. I needed to see this. Now I need to inform everyone. Do excuse me”, and he rose before either Dan or Alan could say anything.

He didn’t give details, merely informed everyone present that he had it on good authority that Draco Malfoy was now dead. There was silence in the rest of the Hall save the occasional mutter and one voice that spoke up beyond a whisper, “Bloody Death-Eater, he deserved it if you ask me”.

A voice spoke out, Tom’s, albeit a tad slurred, “Was me took his Dark Mark. Jraco din’t have one, we swapped places first. He didn’ wannit, his dad made that pretty clear that he wasn’ gonna let Draco get away with it this time, yeah? They pretty much ignored me, erm, him, until the big day, and let me tell you, it hurt like fuck, but I was always under the impression that Draco was going to be forced into the Mark and that he didn’t really want it. After all, wasn’t his soul-mate Harry Potter? Even if Harry didn’t want that. Draco would have followed him for life. Isn’t that what soul-mates do? God, this is complicated. No wonder we were brought here, well, you two, anyway. You’re the real soul-mates while me and Dan here were just a passing fancy”.

Dan winced at the few final words but knew them to be true. He also knew that whatever happened from then on was all about him and the man he really loved, not a man he’d almost fallen for but who had ditched him. That was why he was here instead of Harry Potter. He and Alan could make a real difference, whereas Harry and Severus Snape could not, however in love they were. It all came back to the repugnance Harry Potter had felt for the boy destined to be his real bond-mate..

There was silence in the rest of the Hall except for the odd cough and shuffle. Dan’s ire rose, but of course, these people knew that, had known it all along. There had just been one glitch, the small matter of the dislodged stone when all that magic had been released. The stone that head crushed their alter-egos where they had been spared by the assiduous and timely use of strong magic, their magic responding and them not even knowing they had been bequeathed it. For Dan this was a humbling thought and he silently vowed to do everything in his power to see to it that the death of Harry and Severus was not in vain.

He transmitted this to his husband through their link. He felt Alan stiffen, {Isn’t that what they hoped we’d think?}, he sent. Dan shrugged, {Doesn’t matter. It’s our mission here. It’s why we’re here. I think we need to sort ourselves out some sort of after-Voldemort deal so we can disappear afterwards, and there will be an afterwards, - somewhere quiet and peaceful. By the sea would be nice. Access to all that money is good too. Hmmm.....}, and Dan’s ‘send’ petered out.

****

The only sound to be heard in the Hall was Tom sobbing loudly in the arms of his werewolf lover, who tried valiantly not to smile at the thought that his lover could never return to his old life. He stroked the blond hair and closed his eyes, keeping his face neutral and letting his lover cry it out in his arms. As Remus gentled him and brought him down from his crying jag, Tom had reason to be grateful but he still didn’t really want to be here: he longed to go home, he’d even invent some excuse, hell, anything, so long as he could see his family again.

He thought he had loved Remus, loved him a lot. He knew Remus was in love with him but he wasn’t so sure any more. Remus was very possessive which had been sort of nice at first but had staled quickly and now Tom was starting to find it confining. But he was still glad of that understanding shoulder to cry on when the death of his character had been announced. He couldn’t seem to stop the tears, angry first, then hopeless. Draco had been his route out of here and now he was no more. Still high from the latest dose of potion, Tom felt like running back to his quarters and downing the rest of the month’s doses all at once. As if divining what his young lover was thinking, Remus Lupin held him tight and murmured how he’d always be there for him, would always love him. As Tom sniffled, he thought, ‘that’s what I’m afraid of’, but didn’t let it show on his face.

****

Seeing Tom’s obvious distress made Dan sad but he was comforted by various around the table as his own eyes filled and threatened to overflow. Ron was the first to speak up, “Look, you didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t have to be sorry for the deaths. I’m more sorry that you, Tom, can’t go home. I think these spells need another on the other end of them, they’re spells of exchange, or so Harry told me and Hermione. One can’t go across without another to come here, is how he explained it”, he patted a distraught Tom’s hand. Tom momentarily squeezed the big bear paw patting him and felt his hand totally engulfed in Ron’s. He got this weird feeling in his guts and dared to look up.....into the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen.

The look and the hand-holding lasted for the longest moment before they both drew apart with coughs and awkward looks downwards, looking anywhere but at each other. Dan smirked inwardly, {Well, what do you suppose that was all about?}, he ‘sent’ to his husband, who mentally shrugged and replied laconically, {I have really no idea but the situation bears watching, does it not?}. By the time they had finished ‘speaking’, the couples had re-arranged themselves, Tom tucking himself into Remus’ arms while Ron kissed the black hair of his lover as he gathered him to his chest.

Then blond and redhead stole a last look. And the air blazed between them, for just a moment – their lovers oblivious, thinking them back within their purview once again; but still the look scorched and flared, lighting their eyes.

All of a sudden, Tom found himself quite willing to stay at Hogwarts a while longer while Ron grinned as he sank his lips into Blaise’s dark hair.

Dan watched the interaction with interest. This definitely bore watching. He wasn’t the only one to notice: across the room, he saw Hermione’s eyes narrow. Even in the books, she had always found Ron quite transparent and Dan was glad that the woman was also keeping watch. He had found her very dependable so far, exactly as Emma had portrayed her in the films, except that this girl was the real thing, earnest and sincere to the point of dullness, but saved by a demon sense of humour and completely lacking in Emma’s glamour factor. Dan found her more interesting than Emma, truth be told. He caught her eye and winked quickly, to see the girl nod slightly and turn away. She knew the value of discretion. She was quite the warrior and Dan knew he’d be honoured to have her at his side.

Alan’s thoughts broke into Dan’s musings, {So what is all this new feeling between the supposed ‘Malfoy’ and the youngest Weasley boy?} Dan grinned and turned to the man who held him, {You know Tom, ever the tart. He’s just a bit sick of Remus and ready to move on. Seems the longest he can last is a few weeks. I feel a whole lot better now, knowing that. I thought it was just me but it wasn’t. It’s Tom’s flaw when it comes to men}.

Alan thought back to that day long past in the trailer......Dan leaving and Tom coming on to him – Dan all innocence and Tom all cunning. Yes, they had been very cleverly cast, even at ten years old. Alan gazed casually at the blond lying wrapped in the werewolf’s arms and shook his head. He wasn’t going to get involved in that little spat. He glanced at the redhead now murmuring against his lover’s lips before kissing him and thought that life was going to get very interesting indeed.

****

As the heat of the afternoon increased, folk split off and went their separate ways dealing with it as befit them. Tom kissed Remus and sent him for a siesta, “I just need to walk off a little energy, then I’ll join you”, he murmured, sweaty, as he sent the werewolf off into the drugged heat.

Ron disentangled himself from Blaise, glued to his side and said, “You can find your way from here, can’t you? I just need to walk lunch off a bit, heartburn, don’t you know. I’ll be there in a bit”, kissed his lover and steered him on the right path then backtracked to begin his restless wanderings.

They found each other in a deserted corridor miles from the inhabited part of the castle. Tom wore only denim cut-offs and a vest, Ron was attired in cargo shorts with multiple pockets and just a waistcoat fastened over his otherwise bare chest.

The magnetism was crackling between them as they stood, at either end of the corridor and just looked their fill at each other, then advanced, both swaggering slightly, not taking their eyes off each other: eyes full of lust and promise, and they collided, lips and groins first, then tangled and almost fell to the hard stone floor before manoeuvring themselves against a solid wall, the impact knocking the wind from Tom who grinned as he gasped and pulled Ron towards him forcefully, smashing them closer together. His next kiss had teeth in it.....

****

There was a feeling of disappointment in Dan’s chest as he and Alan descended to the dungeons and beyond for a cooling swim, to get out of the worst of the heat of the day. He tried not to make a big deal about it, but, yeah, he was pissed off. Dammit, it was his bloody birthday, and, apart from the wishes his husband had bestowed on him, there was nada, zilch, fuck all from anyone else. It was in this frame of mind that he pounded up and down the pool, doing a mile with ease, then stalked off without a word to his new husband who watched him go from the deep end of the pool.

Alan finished his own swim letting Dan have his space and his sulk. He smiled to himself as he finished his second mile and stepped from the pool, towelling himself down and rubbing vigorously at his hair. Waving the pool out of existence, he followed his husband back to their quarters, to find Dan curled up in bed hugging Alan’s pillow, fast asleep and still frowning. Alan sighed as he divested the grumpy officially-adult Dan of his pillow and slid himself into the heavy arms. Dan made a noise and the frown lessened. The noise turned to mumbles and lip-smacking then a sigh as Dan folded Alan in his embrace, squashed his face against Alan’s side and began to snore.

Shaking his head and trying to keep his laughter quiet, Alan carefully manipulated his sleeping Danny into his arms and laid his head on his chest. Alan was happy this way, with the weight of his lover on him and the feel of his soft breaths on his chest, even if his left arm would be dead on waking later. Alan forgave Danny his ‘grump’ and fell asleep with all that wiry warm weight in his arms.

Dan was still quiet as they readied themselves for dinner in the Great Hall, only now he seemed more resigned than angry. On Alan’s, “Ready, love?”, he nodded dolefully and took Alan’s hand then they made their stately way to the Hall.

The huge double doors were already thrown open as they approached, in fact music could be heard issuing forth from the doors. Coming closer to the Hall and seeing through the door, the slight smirk that Alan had been wearing turned into a smile. He could see balloons and banners. Dan stiffened at his side. He saw them too. Then Alan felt his husband relax, saw the smile, heard the laugh, “You bastards, and no-one said a word all day”. Alan grabbed Dan to him and kissed him, “Idiot, that would rather have spoiled the surprise”.

And they were across the threshold, Dan giggling like a schoolkid: at the balloons all bobbing about, the various banners that read variants on ‘Happy Birthday Dan. 21 Today’, plus, on one of the long tables was a pile of presents. Presents? Who from? Why? Dan almost hyperventilated at the sight, until Alan’s hand in the small of his back centred him and he remembered to breathe.

Then a myriad of folks were on their feet, clapping and smiling. There was a chorus of ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow’ followed by ‘Happy Birthday to You’ and Dan smiled and acknowledged everyone – a favourite general moving amongst his troops – the thought came unbidden to Alan’s mind as he watched him. He saw Dan wipe a tear or two away, heard him make a stunned off-the-cuff speech of thanks, heard him re-direct some badinage straight back to the perpetrators, much to the amusement of all, in fact, was the consummate professional, taking the whole thing in stride. Then it hit Alan, even as he was handed a flute of champagne and they all toasted the birthday boy – this was part of why they had been brought here, because of Dan’s adroit handling of people, not Harry’s no-doubt bumbling adolescent methods.

With this realisation came another, that Alan was as much a part of this as his young husband was and it was time for Alan o do his bit: in readying/calming/focussing the troops and keeping them behind this stranger in their midst. And when he wasn’t doing that, then he was to be the perfect bond-mate to ‘Harry Potter’. He slipped an arm around Dan and hoisted his glass, “To Dan, the man I love above all other”, he murmured and got giggles and harrumphs amongst the raised glasses but it netted him a blinding smile from Dan and a blistering little kiss to the side of his neck in thanks. He leaned in and murmured, “Happy Birthday, love. Would you like to see what is in those parcels?”

That night, Dan was feted. He opened his gifts at the encouraging of the younger set. He had a small present from each of the DA as well as several members of the Order. He loved the sugar quills from Ginny as much as the hand-knit sweater from Molly Weasley even though he had tears in his eyes as he opened the latter gift. The indomitable lady sniffled, “Look, I know you are not Harry and I know I normally knit these sweaters in December and I know it’s July and I don’t expect you to wear it but....oh, I’m sorry, I’m just a sentimental old bird – I mean, I want you to have it, dear, just like he would have done. But one for you, if that makes any sense at all”.

From the gaudy paper, Dan lifted the jumper, knitted in bright rusty reds with a large letter ‘D’, wrought in a vibrant mid-blue, in the centre. This was them showing that they knew he was Dan, not Harry, and all of a sudden, Dan missed his mother very much and pressed the sweater to his face as he sobbed. He felt the comfort of Alan’s arms around him and the question in his head, {Are you all right, my love?} He nodded against the broad chest, {Yeah, just missing my mum a lot}.

Putting the woollen down, Dan broke away from Alan’s gentle hold and tottered over to Molly, taking her hand and kissing it then holding it to his face, “Thank you, Molly. I feel like a real member of team ‘Weasley’ now. I even have my own jumper. I have read so much of these. If we fight in the cool of the night then I may yet need it, I came here with so little....”, and he was silenced by being pulled into a full-on ‘Molly’ hug that drowned him in bosom and the sweet scent of motherhood and lavender. His answer had evidently pleased her and it took some time to extricate himself.

He received his own copy of ‘Hogwarts: a History’, from Hermione amongst a pile of other books, a slim volume on bonds hiding amongst the bulkier tomes. Ron bought him a Chudleigh Cannons sweatshirt that was magically charmed to play their anthem but only if he cheered loudly enough. In the small breast pocket, there were two tickets to the game at the start of next season. Dan had to gulp back tears at these gestures from Harry’s two best friends, they were accepting him as Dan, not Harry and it humbled him.

After all the gifts were opened and Dan was in tears from everyone’s generosity, the mood was leavened by Hermione selecting some tunes and letting music weave all around them. In an instant, Alan grabbed his bonded and hauled him out to the middle of the small floor between the tables and rocked him in his arms, to feel Dan relax against him.

When the dancefloor was full, Alan led Dan off to one side, seating them both well away from the main hubbub in the Hall. From a pocket, Alan withdrew a small velvet bag, gathered with a cord, and loosened it, tipping the contents into his palm. Dan looked down and saw two plain white-metal rings that glowed slightly.

Taking the slightly smaller one, Alan suddenly knelt at Dan’s feet, taking his left hand in his, “Dan please honour our magical bond by consenting to wear my ring. I swear myself to you utterly for as long as we both shall live”. He then slid the ring onto Dan’s left hand. Biting his lip, Dan slid from his chair to look his beloved in the eye and took the other slim band from Alan’s hand. “I accept. With this ring I do bind us together for all the days of our lives: whatever may become of us and whatever travails may await us. I promise you my love, my fidelity, my fealty, in body soul and mind, for as long as I draw breath”, and slipped the ring on Alan’s left hand.

The music had dimmed to background noise and the Hall was mainly quiet. When Alan smiled widely and clasped Dan’s hands in his and said, “I accept your offering, with all the love and respect with which it was tendered and I will hold it close. And we shall have us a garden, nurtured and watered with love, and a bond, sealed with magic. I cleave myself unto you, Dan Radcliffe, now and unto the end of my days”. Dan burst into tears and could barely stutter out the response, “I, Dan Radcliffe, take, thee, Alan Rickman, to be my bonded, for now, for tomorrow, forever. I promise I will love thee, honour thee and cherish thee for all the days of our lives”.

There was a silence. Even the music stopped at the import of these words, the like of which hadn’t been heard these many years. There had been no true bond-mates for hundreds of years then here were these two: impostors; arrivistes, barely magical, and here they had done something truly powerful, something that might even save the world.

Then there was applause, cheering, shouts and whoops. And that night, as they all drank and played, danced and loved, for just this once, they finally believed that something great might come out of all of this and that everything, just this once, might finally be all right.