#hfpw

purityworld decon's courtship retreats are now heritage foundation policy proposals!

Lord Harry Potter and the Maiden's Kiss: London, August 1996

Ragnok cleared his throat and set down two sheets of parchment in front of Harry and Sirius. “Blood test results,” he announced. “Congratulations. Neither of you are currently impersonating other people.” “I could’ve told you that myself,” said Sirius dryly. “Standard procedure, Mr Black. Deep apologies for the inconvenience.” Harry turned his parchment over to see his name and what seemed to basically amount to a bank statement of sorts. “That’s it?” he asked.  The two goblins promptly burst into laughter. “What do you think we are, the keepers of the Tome of Avalon?” cackled Ragnok. “We are a financial institution, not a genealogy service!”  “I dunno,” said Harry, stung. “I thought maybe it would show me—” “Any extra inheritances you’d be eligible to collect?” finished Bogrod, as he wiped a tear from his eye. “Hammer and tongs, my dear boy, you’ve been bamboozled by that scammer, Grug Goldensnout, and his supposed secret lineage-detecting blood test! That’s why we’ve had to increase security downstairs: we’ve had some real blagduks coming in claiming inheritances from Merlin and what’s-her-face, Mother Magic. Lady doesn’t even exist, I tell you, much less have an account with us. And if that unwashed pickpocket Fletcher really is a Peverell heir, I’ll eat my own nose!”  Ragnok snorted, before promptly sobering up. “We should discuss the will,” he muttered. “Oh, yes, yes, we should,” agreed Bogrod, still chortling as he brought out a file marked with a bunch of numbers on the front.

Lord Harry Potter and the Maiden's Kiss: Hogsmeade, October 1996

“The blood traitor stuff is important, Draco,” said Lord Malfoy impatiently, reaching over and snatching Harry’s sandwich out of his fingers. He then grabbed a spare plate and placed the sandwich on it, next to a brie and prosciutto crostini and an apple tartlet. “Here is our family: your mother,” he held up the cucumber sandwich, “yourself,” gesturing to the tartlet, “and me.” He waved a hand at the crostini. He then added in an egg and cress sandwich and a smoked salmon sandwich. “High Lord Slytherin and Lord Rabastan. And this summer, High Lord Slytherin brokered the purchase of your Bonding contract by the Lestranges. Therefore…” He moved the tartlet to sit next to the smoked salmon sandwich on the saucer. “But then I kissed Harry,” said Draco, already moving down a small pot of pumpkin and Butterbeer cream mousse and swapping out the smoked salmon sandwich with it. “Putting us in breach of contract,” finished Lord Malfoy, placing the other two sandwiches next to the crostini. “And now the Lestranges have several options open to them. First—and this is the ideal situation—they will demand restitution for spoiled assets. The Lestranges paid for an un-Kissed virgin, so we return their investment with additional compensation for their disappointment in being denied your Maiden’s Kiss.” Harry made a face at the idea of a price being put on Draco’s chastity at all, causing the other boy to squeeze his knee in a gentle warning. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” declared Draco, in a voice of forced bravado. “We’ve got more money than the Lestranges.”

Read HERE on AO3!

And a bonus (does this count as #drawdrarrybadly???)

—John, of the Risible House of Mulaney

For more context: The Whispers of Lady Polixenes, June 1996

Lord Harry Potter and the Maiden's Kiss: The Burrow, August 1996

There was a flash of something silver, and Harry instinctively slammed on the brakes.  “What the hell was that?” demanded Ron, though within seconds they saw what had caused the flash. The bird was glowing just like Harry’s stag and Ginny’s horse. It perched itself on the bonnet and began preening at its feathers, before opening its beak:  “Help me.”  Harry was glad he’d already had his foot on the brakes, because he might have lost control of the wheel at that. As it was, all he could do was stare at the silver bird, his heart racing. A Patronus with a message for him down in Falmouth… surely it had to be…   “Harry, no,” Hermione said, watching the bird warily. Harry had only a second or two to be offended by Hermione having already guessed his thoughts before she pointed out, “You’ve never even seen him cast a Patronus; how do you know this isn’t a trap?” “You think I don’t recognise Draco’s voice?” protested Harry, as his stag propped its hooves on the dashboard to get a better look at the bird as well. “Who else would be sending me a Patronus message from out here?”  “Help me,” repeated the bird, tapping at the glass with its beak.  “If Malfoy knew how to cast a Patronus, then why wouldn’t he have done it sooner?” demanded Hermione. 

Lord Harry Potter and the Maiden's Kiss: Hogwarts, 1-16 November 1996

Soon, they were cloistered in one of the empty classrooms in the Transfiguration corridor. “Go on then,” said Harry, hopping onto the desk with their bags. “A little less power than the amount you used to get the exploding bird, but a little more than the feather puffs.”  “Very helpful,” grouched Draco, hiding another yawn behind his hand. “Avis.” This time, only a couple feathers popped out the end of his wand. Draco scowled and shook his wand again, as if trying to wake it up. A couple more feathers popped out. Harry frowned. “That’s—” “Not enough intent, yeah, I know.” The frustration was waking Draco up, at least, though it also made the shadows under his eyes even more pronounced. “It’s just—every time I close my eyes, I see him again…”  Harry had a good idea of who Draco was talking about. He’d woken from that nightmare all sweaty and nauseous, too, just seeing the way Rabastan Lestrange had leered at Draco in his memories. “But you’re here now, where that creepy old wanker can’t get to you.” “That creepy old wanker is holding my father hostage,” spat Draco. He slashed his wand again, causing a weird little armless bird-thing to plop out of his wand and plummet right to the floor. Harry Vanished it before Draco could see it and be sick again. “Yeah, but your father made me swear to protect you,” he said, as Draco resumed causing downpours of feathers throughout the room. “So that’s what we’ve got to do… get your magic back on track.”  And the other thing, he added silently, because the lengthening shadows under Draco’s eyes told him that the Maiden’s Kiss was the farthest thing on his mind right now.  He’d been like this ever since coming back from Hogsmeade. Harry wished there was more that he could do about it.

Lord Harry Potter and the Whispers of Lady Polixenes, a fic by @omgkatsudonplease with banner art by the lovely @the-colourful-witch

Suddenly, there was a shout from the Hufflepuff table. “Look!” exclaimed Hannah Abbott, pointing at the enchanted ceiling. “It’s snowing!”  Harry looked up, and was nearly hit in the face by a piece of parchment. He grabbed it to see that it was titled Lady Polixenes’ Hogwarts Secrets, Issue 7.  All around them, leaflets of parchment were falling out of the rafters. Students were brushing leaflets off of their food, slipping on loose sheets, flinging them at one another. A sleeping Neville Longbottom over at the Gryffindor table was quickly covered in a mountain of parchment. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore was watching the mayhem with great amusement, while Umbridge had gone rather purple-faced trying to destroy all of the falling parchment without setting the rest of the Great Hall on fire.  “STOP IT!” she bellowed, as some of the first-years started to jump around, plucking papers out of the air. “Do not read these! These leaflets are illicit publications, and I forbid you to read them!”  No one, however, seemed to be listening to her. Professor Liu, who had finally deigned to start taking meals in the Great Hall again, was openly reading a leaflet in the seat right next to Umbridge. Professor McGonagall and Severina were both surreptitiously tucking their own copies into the folds of their robes. Students from all four houses were also sneaking copies of the leaflets, though some of their peers—especially at the Slytherin table—were trying to help Umbridge destroy the rest.  “Detentions!” howled Umbridge. “Detention to anyone caught with a copy of this pernicious Lady Polixenes!” Election Year has hit New Avalon, and everything is changing. This year, Lord Harry of the Honourable and Most Ancient House of Potter must navigate the chessboard of Pureblood society, whilst dealing with the appointment of a despotic High Inquisitor to Hogwarts, internal strife amongst previously-unshakeable friend groups, and his own confusing teenage feelings. Part Five of Heirs of Avalon, a Pureblood Culture deconstruction.

Lord Harry Potter and the Maiden's Kiss: Hogwarts, 17-30 November 1996

“Lav,” repeated Harry, wondering if this nauseousness was how Ron felt every time he talked about Draco. “It’s been a week—actually, no, she’s been calling you ‘Won-Won’ since before you went down on one knee. And you took the mic out of me for getting that Eternal Plum clipping for Qiu…” “Yeah, but who were you obsessing over for four years, her or Malfoy?” Ron shot back. “Your courtship with her popped out of nowhere! And I was right, wasn’t I? Qiu was just practice for you, so that you could…” He trailed off, face growing pink as Harry’s own grew warm. Awkwardly, he turned away from Ron to look over at where Lavender and Parvati had just left the classroom. Parvati nudged Lavender and pointed, and Lavender’s eyes promptly lit up. “Won-Won!” she exclaimed, pelting over at top speed to give Ron her satchel. “Walk me to the P.I.G.E.O.N.S. committee meeting, won’t you?”  She began tugging Ron down the hallway with her, already chattering on and on about the kinds of decorations she wanted to get for the leavers’ ball in June. Harry and Parvati exchanged a commiserating look. “I thought the Yule Ball had been the end of it,” she mused, nodding at the back of Lavender’s golden updo. The flowers from Ron’s bouquet had been woven in between the twists and curls. “I mean, he spent the whole thing just glaring at Viktor Krum, and then he had that terrible row with Hermione afterwards…” Harry had also been involved in that row, but he wisely held his tongue on that. “Maybe it’s for the best,” continued Parvati, twisting the bangles at her wrist. “Tony and I talk a lot about our different cultural backgrounds, but we don’t let it get in the way of us, you know? Hermione comes from such a different world, and she’s so terribly incurious about the Old Ways… it’s no wonder that Ron would want to look elsewhere now that we’re older…”