In the wake of a V-day that went off without a hitch, Harry Potter picks up the pieces of a broken London and hunts for a reason why, attracting all manner of attention, from all manner of people. Slash. AU. Non-Kingsman!Eggsy.


Chapter Seven

"This is fuckin' insane, bruv," Eggsy hissed under his breath, hands fisted nervously in his pockets where Harry's debit card was practically burning a hole through his leg. Stalking nervously down the increasingly fancy streets of London towards Saville Row he felt he was justified in his first assumption of Harry being a posh-git. Just... not in the way he originally thought he was. Harry was fucking loaded. Rolling in it. His dad had apparently been Old Money, some kind of Lord at that! And his Godfather a childless Earl that passed away in Harry's mid-teens and named the younger Wizard his heir.

Not bad for a kid who grew up in a cupboard under a flight of stairs in upper middle-class Surrey he had flippantly remarked with a bitter smirk as he handed over not only his bank card, but also the PIN to use it. Harry had more money than most football players, and he'd just handed it to him, pretty as you please, as if it were a fuckin' – no, he treated fuckin' text books with more care than he'd just shoved that square of plastic in Eggsy's direction with.

He curiously checked it out at one of the few functioning ATMs and nearly shit himself. That was more money than he had ever seen, more even than the time he caught Dean counting up drug money.

And Harry just gave it to him, absolutely no fucks or concerns that Eggsy might do a runner, and told him to go and buy a suit. And while money may not have had as much value as it used to, people were still trying to scrape together what little of the world they had left, normality was a precious commodity that people clung to desperately, often to their own detriment, that meant money still having some kind of power, even though trade was beginning to take over. Still, Harry had a ridiculous amount of money.

Which, of course, brought them here. Eggsy complaining to thin air, Harry so close behind him that Eggsy worried he was going to trip over him, and walking into the belly of the beast.

Into Kingsman Tailors.

"Shut up, and calm down," Harry hissed as they finally came to a stop outside the shop itself. One of the few on the street that hadn't been either vandalised or looted. Hardly noteworthy when you considered what kind of shop it was, but very telling when you knew what was actually hiding inside. Eggsy wondered how many people had died trying their luck on the property, only to meet one of Valentine's assassins. "Just... Go in, get fitted, say you're going to a wedding or something, got a new job, whatever. Just, normal. Remember, if anything goes wrong, I'll get you out. I promise," the wizard breathed against the back of his neck, making Eggsy shudder as he felt the green eyed man gently touch the side of his cheek.

Eggsy rolled his shoulders in acceptance, feeling Harry duck in front of him to one side, and then begin moving.

In a word, the store was ugly. Ugly yet classy.

Done in shades of brown, gold, and green, it was very much a masculine interior putting Eggsy in mind of old mansions and smoking houses and how he'd always picture drawing rooms belonging to gentlemen like in My Fair Lady. Armchairs in sepia coloured leather with green tartan pillows, a similarly coloured couch but with a green tartan of the same pattern acting as a throw across the back, handsome wooden furnishings with bolts of various coloured fabrics laid out across them in stacks of four, yellow lampshades providing the light that the curtained and mannequin filled windows could not, and a diminutive older man with thinning grey hair, glasses, and a long nose glowering at him from behind a counter, tape-measure draped across his shoulders. Behind him was a long fancy staircase that led to the second floor, and likely as not, the employees only area.

Eggsy had never felt more out of place before in his life wearing his multitude of hoodies, cap, baggy reboks, and muddy sneakers. Self-conscious and defensive and embarrassed all at once because no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, other people's opinions did matter to him, at least in some small degree.

"Can I help you... sir?" the gentleman behind the counter asked delicately, a hand hidden out of view and probably wrapped around a weapon of some description, peering down his nose at the twenty four year old that seemingly had gotten lost and found himself dragged into the store by unfortunate circumstances.

Eggsy fumbled self-consciously, "Uh, y-yeah. Um, do you guys do walk ins? For fittings. I-I'm getting married," he stuttered nervously, lying through his teeth even as in the back of his head he wondered who the hell he would get married to these days (the fact that Harry in a wedding dress flashed up in his mind's eye was very hard to ignore because it was doing some downright cruel things to his decidedly neglected libido right now). He felt Harry's hand press against his shoulderblade reassuringly as the older man's face pinched a little haughtily before he wrinkled his nose.

"We have no appointments today, sir. I can fit you in now, if you wish?" he asked neatly, the lines on his face much more relaxed now as he removed his hand from under the counter, and the unknown weapon. He doubted they had any appointments since Death Day, but like those dead-eyed fast-food workers that still showed up at McDonalds just to try and scrape some normality, just going through the motions of a normal day, even when they were still sweeping glass up from the floors, or scrubbing bloodstains off the fryers. It was a good act, one that he only knew was an act because he knew what to look for. Still, the tailor relaxed from hair-trigger murder to only somewhat less highstrung professional, Eggsy guessed it was the whole nervous 'Groom-to-be' act, people always got soft on others when they found out they were getting married, happy for them he guessed.

"Yes! Yes please – uh, how much..."

"For the measurements, only twenty five pounds. After that I will walk you through various cuts and styles, we will select a fabric, and if we have some templates in stock behind the preliminary pinning process. Prices will vary depending on fabric and cut," the tailor explained, ignorant to the golden spiders scurrying up the stairs behind him. "You have never visited a tailor before, I assume?"

He shook his head, swallowing nervously, "No. There was never a need for it really. Dress uniform was supplied by the base so..." he trailed off with an awkward shrug. His old dress blues had been the nicest gear he had, but when he dropped out of training he had to return it along with the rest of his standard kit. "I figured, I'll splash out, get a really decent suit, that way I can use it for like job interviews and stuff afterwards," he explained as he shuffled in his muddy sneakers, feeling dirty and out of place, and a little not-allowed in the fancy tailor shop. There would be job interviews somewhen in the future, somewhen. Just... not now. Not any time soon. But... yeah. Later.

The tailor quirked a small smile, "A sound idea, sir. If you would follow me into Fitting Room One?" he offered before gesturing him into the closest door on his right.

Eggsy nodded and shuffled in, barely catching a glimpse of Harry's shoe as the cloak lifted ever so slightly at the top of the stairs, he turned away swiftly so as not to draw attention to him.

He was intensely uncomfortable for the whole fitting, and his tailor seemed to be able to tell in that way that all discreet service staff in proper classy places could that he wasn't particularly keen on making conversation right now. His measurements were taken, and then he was shown a magazine where between the two of them they were able to pick out an English cut, high-peaked lapel suit that was formal enough for a wedding, but relaxed enough to be used for business wear.

It was when they were outside the fitting room once more, picking their way through various fabrics, that Eggsy felt a slight tickle on his ankle – one of Harry's spiders giving him the signal that he'd finished seeding the entire building with spies. Now they were just waiting on him to finish up and get home safely before calling the mission done.

The fabric Eggsy chose ended up being one of those ones that they did have some template patterns in stock for, so after another hour and a half of being perched atop a stool being pinned, Eggsy was finally stood once again in front of the counter as the gentleman carefully packed away his measurements and patterns.

"So, how much do I owe you?" Eggsy asked, feeling Harry's hand once again on his shoulder blade and relaxing ever so slightly in relief.

"Fabric, plus time, and labour... Before V-day," the man rattled off, making several calculations on his notepad, unaware of how both sets of eyes narrowed sharply on his name for That day, "it would have set you back five hundred pounds. However, with the economy as it is, supply and demand, at this juncture, three hundred is more appropriate," he detailed looking up with a small sly smile.

The crooked grin Eggsy returned was half hearted and semi-suspicious at best.

He paid, and was given a receipt which he would need to hand in about a week later in order to collect his suit. His suit would be ready within five working days as they had no other customers at present.

Then they left.

Eggsy making sure to step into a block of flats a mile away and change into the clothes that Harry had hidden under his cloak. A new hoodie, cap, and shoes with slight inserts to make himself look taller, before heading to Grimmauld Place.

He collapsed in near hysterical relief when he closed the door behind them.

"I can't believe that worked," he babbled in shocked awe as Harry learned over him – cloak half open so only part of him was visible. Eggsy wondered how a strip-tease with invisible clothes would go? Weird af. But, seriously, Jesus, when was the last time he got laid? Had to be two months before he went down for Car Theft – so... a year and a half, just over, with only his hand on lonely nights. Talk about your bad case of blue balls! No wonder he was getting hot under the collar fantasising about Harry – beyond the fact that Harry was fuckin' hot and he fancied the pants off him, and on him, fully clothed and not, and just kind of everything about him. He was doomed. Completely doomed.

He laughed helplessly, throwing an arm over his eyes as Harry's expression twisted into one of confused mirth, not understanding him, but finding his behaviour amusing none the less.

"Are you... alright?" Harry finally asked as he stripped out of the cloak.

"Yeah, bruv. Just a funny five minutes," Eggsy assured him as he pushed himself upright and back onto his feet. "So, we good to go, Double-oh Seven?" he teased, grinning widely.

Harry gave him a confused look.

Eggsy stared.

"Wait, you... you dun'know who Double-oh Seven is?" the chav demanded in confused horror.

Harry grimaced, "I'm guessing some kind of movie character, but magic doesn't work around technology. DVD players don't survive long in this house," he pointed out even as Eggsy spluttered and kicked his shoes off.

"Right, well then, we're just gunna have to educate you, ain't we?" he demanded enthusiastically, "Those spiders'll take time to filter through their base an' start transmittin' back – so, we can educate you in the mean time!"

Harry let himself be dragged up the stairs, smiling a little bemusedly, but not having the heart to try and talk Eggsy out of something that obviously had him so excited. Who knew, maybe it would even be interested.


As much as Eggsy wanted to sit with Harry and watch all of his favourite old spy movies, neither of them really could. Harry had tons of papers, messages, and reports from up and down the country from his friends, Hermione, and various other survivor camps pulling together and following the model he came up with – just because he was no longer in the public eye didn't mean he had stopped managing things. And while he steadily chewed his way through the ocean of papers upstairs, Eggsy himself had to monitor the quill room to make sure they didn't miss something important and time-sensitive that transmitted back to them from the spiders. It was boring as fuck, but it had to be done, and it wasn't like he had anything else to do while Harry was arguably safer than anyone else in England right now. No need for a bodyguard to be honest. (He wondered why Harry bothered to keep him around but tried not to read too much into it.)

They ate in the quill room, Harry having levitated a couch and a small coffee table into the room so they could relax while observing the dining room table with the multitude of ever growing parchment piles. Harry seemed to be a little withdrawn though, thinking hard, occasionally Eggsy would catch him watching him from the corner of his eye, but every time he looked over Harry's attention was elsewhere.

After they'd eaten he went back upstairs to his papers, informing Eggsy that he would take over from him in a few hours – one person would be in the quill room at all times, twelve hours each so that they could have time to sleep and eat. He came back at nine pm so he could go and shower, but after sorting himself out and deciding to get an early night since the days of sleeping in were over... Eggsy found himself tossing and turning for more than an hour, unable to sleep at all. He had gotten far too used to being in Harry's space, to sharing the bed with someone else. Eventually he gave up, dragged his bedding downstairs and made dropped down onto the couch in the quill room, before then proceeding to use Harry's lap as a pillow. He was fairly certain of that this whatever it was between them would allow for that. The wizard snorted a little and shifted so his elbow wouldn't be digging into Eggsy's side, conjured a pillow that he tucked down on one side as an armrest, before proceeding to continue working on top of Eggsy's head as the chav lazily watched the endlessly scritching quills until he fell asleep.

He stirred only once or twice, maybe more. He felt Harry move his papers aside and at some point start gently stroking his hair, lulling him into an even deeper sleep. Once or twice he rose from the cobwebs of unconsciousness to spy Harry on the otherside of the room, reading a few of the finished transcripts the quills had been scratching out. There was always at least one going at any given time. Did these people ever sleep?

Idly he wondered if Harry was even into guys as he found himself once more with his head in the wizard's lap, acting like this was kind of a bit like tying his own noose if he wasn't.

"Haven't really thought about it, to be honest," Harry admitted, fingers still hypnotically raking through his hair, "I haven't thought about things like that in years. I guess it would depend on the person, whether or not I was attracted to them."

Had he aid that out loud?

"Yes, you did."

Eggsy felt his face burn as he tiredly rolled over and buried his face into the wizard's stomach, curling into a ball of complete embarrassment even as the wizard cracked a rusty chuckle. Whatever it was they currently had between them was fine, he didn't want to ruin that by demanding more, or making Harry uncomfortable just being around him.

Harry's hand stilled, trembling a little against the tip of his ear, "I've never done it before, but I don't think I would mind being with a man if..." he began slowly, awkward and honest because this was not exactly an easy conversation to be having with another dude using you as bedding in your own home. "If it were you. Since I assume that's what you were driving at."


Eggsy twisted in Harry's lap and shoved himself up onto his hands and knees to look Harry in the eye, had he just admitted that he –

The wizard was tense, a dark pink flush rising on his cheeks as he studiously avoided eye contact, his lips pale and pressed into a thin line. He was nervous, embarrassed, and, Eggsy realised with a jolt deep inside, vulnerable. He had purposely left himself open, vulnerable, in the palm of Eggsy's hand. Taken the risk that the younger man may not feel the same and plunged in anyway, despite all the shit they'd been through and lost. A surge of awe filled him as he realised just how much courage it must have taken the wizard to open up like this given what he knew of his life from the abusive childhood, and the hidden civil war.

"You wouldn't mind?" Eggsy echoed, a silly grin beginning to curl on his lips. Jesus Christ, Harry was so bad at this, he shouldn't be surprised. "You're fuckin' adorable, you know that right?"

Harry threw him a sour look, "It may have been said before," he admitted in tones of great pain that made Eggsy grin wildly, obviously childhood teasing, or friends/family roasting him.

"So, you 'wouldn't mind' being with a guy, if it were me, right?" Eggsy repeated, still grinning while Harry relaxed enough to roll his eyes and scowl at him.

"I believe that's what I said," he snipped defensively, not even tensing or blinking as the chav shifted his weight onto one arm and reached up to brush hair from Harry's face.

"So... you 'wouldn't mind', if I kissed you then, right?"

Harry sighed, "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?" he lamented even as Eggsy pulled him closer.

"Nope," the chav grinned.

"No. I wouldn't mind."


Okay, a shorter chapter than intended, but it was such a good place to leave it off.