Chapter Text
It’s not that Kyoya hated flights, but he really didn’t care for ones quite so long as this one. Even more, he didn’t particularly care for those leading to the death of his bachelorhood.
His bachelorhood, which was just starting, when he thought about it. It was Kyoya’s fault, truly, for thinking he would escape the marital traps his older brothers fell victim to. They at least had small choices in their life partners.
Kyoya couldn’t even blame his father this time. The blame for the contractual obligation fell squarely on the shoulders of his great-great-great-grandfather or thereabouts.
However, Kyoya was nothing if not an expert at maintaining his composure in times like these. His slightly tightened jaw was the only indication of his actual mentality, and if his father, Yoshio Ootori, or their newest acquaintance, Reina Haruto, noticed, they were kind enough to occupy themselves with other pursuits on the Ootori group jet.
Reina, as she insisted on being called upon their introduction, was rather professional and sure-footed, something that Kyoya appreciated. She seemed young for her position, a liaison between Gringotts Tokyo and their retained solicitors' office.
While his father, Yoshio, had obviously been briefed with information from Reina to arrange the flight to London, he had neglected to tell Kyoya any information about the impromptu trip, other than that his attendance would be compulsory.
Kyoya was pleased with the opportunity to have both time alone with Yoshio, which was rare, but also for the chance to see a foreign trade deal come together in real time. Or at least, that was his assumption.
His assumption was shattered when, after reaching cruising altitude, Yoshio asked him to join him in the study attached to the bedroom.
Yoshio Ootori was a tall, thin man. His hair was deeply flecked with gray amidst the dark black. His suit, a mirror to Kyoya’s, was staunchly ironed and pressed. He was the picture of an industry leader.
Kyoya gracefully folded himself into the seat across from his father, waiting to be addressed. Yoshio did not like being interrupted while reading. He was focused on an ancient-looking parchment contract, and Kyoya tried to place its origin, before his perusal was interrupted by his father clearing his throat.
Yoshio covered the parchment contract, sliding it away from the focal point of the desk.
“In recent years, I’ve been reluctant to conduct our business dealings in Britain. I’m sure you know why, from your tutors,” he asked Kyoya, twitching his eyebrow slightly.
Kyoya nodded. Anyone with sense in the magical world heeded the advisories about travelling in the jurisdiction of the British Ministry of Magic.
Yoshio returned his nod, “I’m sure you can understand that only something significant could bring me - and you - there now.”
He sighs, uncharacteristically, “In 1809, one of our grandfathers, in a bid to bring more prestige to the Ootori name, went seeking betrothal contracts from powerful houses - ones with strong, proven familial magicks attached.”
Kyoya did not like where this was going.
“One such house was Black, of the British Isles. The Blacks held much influence in society, politics, and magical prowess. The Blacks were, unfortunately, also incredibly… selective about partners for their children.”
Yoshio allowed some of his disgust to show, “In an effort to appease the Ootori head, they promised the Ootori house the hand of the next Black child born a Parselmouth, something that they assured would occur in the next generation,” he said flatly.
“Instead, the Blacks began to decline, primarily as a result of intermarrying,” Kyoya mirrored his father’s expression of disgust. Western wix were abominable at times.
Kyoya nodded to indicate that he was following, and again, Yoshio sighed, “The Ootori’s and Blacks of the time wanted this contract to be more than just a paper agreement, and made it to be magically enforceable after sensing a Black childe with the required powers-“
Yoshio faltered as Kyoya’s eyes closed. Kyoya gripped the arms of his chair, halting the blood flow. He breathed with intention, working to unclench his teeth. It was unfair, but he would deal. He always did.
Kyoya put his hands in his lap, meeting his father’s eyes. He spoke softly, but his voice was steady, continuing where his father had cut off, “as the only eligible Ootori child, it is to be my betrothal contract.”
It wasn’t a question. Kyoya and Yoshio knew that. Yoshio nodded.
Kyoya stood. He nodded at the contract. “May I?”
Yoshio stood as well, gathering the contract and replacing it in its folder. Kyoya took it and strode from the office. He didn’t turn back to see his father's apologetic expression. He entered the main cabin, where Reina was reading paperwork of her own.
He dropped the folder in his seat before quickly walking to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door with quiet precision. Gripping the sink, he fell into long-mastered breathing practices.
Kyoya relied heavily upon Occlumency growing up, the magical mind art of repackaging every thought, motive, and emotion into organized, yet sensible chaos. To Kyoya, it was more than organization; it was control, discipline.
It was all he had at that moment. He forced the air in and out of his lungs.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
For minutes, he just breathed.
All he needed was to recalculate.
Marriage was always inescapable, considering his plans. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon.
Recalculate. Adjust. New trajectory. Plan of action.
His breathing slowed and settled. It was best he read that infernal contract sooner rather than later.
He washed his hands of the clammy sweat that gathered when his father had started talking about betrothals.
Afterwards, Kyoya reentered the main cabin of the small jet and settled in his seat. He looked out the window - it was bright outside, nearly blinding with the reflection of the sun on the icy landscape.
He shut the shade, letting the warmer cabin light illuminate his space as he picked up the folder, opening it to see his newest duty to the Ootori line.
Despite its archaic material, he calmed as he read the contract. It was very straightforward and standard. The exchange was clear: a parcel of land in exchange for the hand of a Black parselmouth. One heir minimum, with marriage swiftly following the majority of the younger party.
An additional concession given to the Ootori’s was the transfer of custodial guardianship upon confirmation of the betrothal. It seemed Kyoya wasn’t only visiting his future fiance, but hauling them back to Japan as well. He was developing a headache.
Kyoya was also mildly surprised that the Ootori’s and Blacks of the era considered and included and irrevocably domestic violence dissolution clause. It was suspiciously progressive.
When he reached the bottom of the contract, Kyoya froze. Beneath the signature lines sat his name, printed, and apparently, his betrothed’s name as well.
Harry James Potter-Black
What the hell had he gotten roped into?
The first thought flashing through his mind almost made him snort out loud. At least he liked men. It could have been worse.
Secondly, Britain’s savior??? Kyoya was far from an expert on British politics at the moment, but even the furthest wizards from Britain knew of Harry Potter.
A small part of his mind that he wouldn’t yet acknowledge was smugly satisfied by his future spouse’s alleged power and influence.
Before Kyoya could begin pondering the implications of marrying Harry bloody Potter, Reina was moving to join him. She gave him a small smile as she settled in the seat facing him.
“I take it you’ve seen his name then? That’s surely a plotting face.”
Kyoya’s lip twitched. He did not plot.
Reina seemed to take this as a response of its own. She adjusted her posture, looking like she meant business. And she did.
“So, here’s the rundown. I won’t be sugarcoating anything, and please hold questions for the end. If I’m recapping anything covered in your magical tutoring, I apologize.”
Kyoya nodded at her, reaching into his pocket for a notepad, poising his pen.
Reina began, “Harry James Potter-Black. Besides tabloid speculation and frankly disrespectful smear campaigns by the Daily Prophet, there’s surprisingly little information available to the public. The information not available to the public, however, is not painting a very desirable picture.”
“Not about him specifically, I mean, but his circumstances.”
Kyoya nodded in understanding, jotting shorthand. It wouldn’t do to have media slander floating around about his currently underage spouse.
“Through Gringotts, I’ve been given information that he lives with non-magicals, his mother’s sister and her husband, the Dursleys. His magical guardianship is where the inconsistencies start.
“Upon the death of his parents, magical guardianship transferred to one Sirius Black. As you may know, Black was arrested that same night on suspicion of killing multiple non-magicals. However, no record exists of a judicial trial for Black. Upon the completion of a trial and the subsequent incarceration, Harry’s magical guardianship should have transferred to his godmother, Alice Longbottom, who was unfortunately incapacitated on that same night.
“Albus Dumbledore, according to the London branch goblins, petitioned the Potter account manager for unofficial magical guardianship by proxy, for Sirius Black. This - mind you - illegal loophole gave Dumbledore vault access to the hereditary Potter gold and artifact vaults. Various sums of money and items have been moved from this vault, but the London goblins were unable to tell me where to, for client privacy.
“To the knowledge of the goblins, Harry is unaware of these transactions, and presumably unaware of the status of any Potter, and by extension, Black holdings and investments,” Reina trailed off. Kyoya had gone still.
This was not painting a good picture. Reina seemed to agree if her grimace was any indication. She powered onward.
“Not many goblins have been able to interact with the boy personally, as written communication is always returned unopened.” Reina seemed to hesitate, “It’s unthinkable to consider that all of these things are innocent coincidences, and I’m hesitant to speak it, but I believe it would be best to be prepared for… any mental state with the boy. It’s a lot of pressure for anyone with his title, of course, but the financial manipulations alone, unexplained incarceration, and death of his magical guardian and godfather…” she trailed off again.
“Something's not right here,” Reina said softly. Kyoya had to agree.
His nail dug into the soft grip of his pen.
Yoshio approached the pair, frowning. Kyoya hadn’t noticed him returning from his study during Reina’s tale.
Yoshio didn’t sit. “Kyoya,” he leveled his gaze firmly on his youngest son, “this boy, we won’t know what’s fully happening until we can get him to open up to us. I’m… worried about how my presence for the initial contact may influence his behavior. I’m trusting you to make contact, along with Reina, and impress the importance of the magical obligation of the contract. This is your duty.”
His last words hit Kyoya like a blow. Kyoya was a relatively unwilling participant himself, never mind convincing a manipulated, British teen to move continents to live with his future in-laws.
Kyoya nodded at Yoshio. He was the third son; this was his duty, and he would do it well. His father was putting trust in Kyoya that he couldn’t bear to break.
Yoshio claps Kyoya lightly on the shoulder, nods at Reina, and retreats to the study once again, seemingly oblivious to Kyoya’s roiling thoughts.
Kyoya drums his pen against the pad, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“I will heed your warning. We will approach,” he paused, “delicately, for lack of a better word.”
Reina nodded emphatically, apparently pleased with his tone.
Kyoya looked at his pad and back to Reina. “This contract can have amendments added, right? I have a few ideas to hopefully entice and protect Harry a little better.”
Kyoya watched Reina ready her laptop, preparing to draft Kyoya’s ideas. He knew she was a good sort. Harry’s finances would need to be completely audited to understand what manipulations and mismanagement were happening in the shadows.
Kyoya recited that until Harry’s majority, only Yoshio, as his custodial guardian, would have the access and ability to make any financial decisions, and even then, never without Harry’s express, written permission. It may get tedious, but it would be worth the control gained.
Between two decorated, pureblood houses, Harry would likely be behind in estate management principles and skills. Kyoya had been studying for a place in Ootori operations for years; Harry wouldn’t have that same luxury.
For the next few hours, Kyoya and Reina adjusted the language and structure of the contract amendments, stopping only for a short meal service. Everything was exceptionally clear-cut; Ootori’s were too honorable to try underhanded tactics in matters such as this.
Once satisfied with their proposals, Kyoya excused himself to the bedroom, hoping to sleep the rest of the evil flight away.
Kyoya watched the London hustle fade into sparser surroundings. The chauffeured car was a comfortable ride, and the monotony of the surroundings gave him space to reorganize his expectations for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.
The hotel rooms were only booked for one night. Yoshio was adamant about not staying in Britain for too long, unwilling to attract the attention of the British ministry or more nefarious forces.
While the Ootori’s were respectable and pureblooded, they were far from interested in the machinations offered by the Dark Lord. Britain was just so uncouth to Kyoya.
His stomach was still unsettled from the light lunch at the hotel, and despite his nap on the jet, his headache persisted. An unknown feeling churned in his gut.
Kyoya couldn’t pinpoint the source. He was charming, persuasive, and hot. This would be easy.
The problem was that mentally rearranging your life is quite different from accepting that every part of your life would change after meeting Harry Potter.
They would live together. Yoshio mentioned over lunch that a small house on the compound was being refreshed while they were gone. The majority of Kyoya’s things would be moved upon their return to Japan.
They would have their own bedrooms, of course, but Yoshio was insistent they have their own space to “get to know each other,” which Kyoya tried not to scoff at.
Eventually, after language tutoring, Harry would join him at Ouran. The number of variables out of Kyoya’s control unsettled him, and his brain blanked on solutions and ideas for merging this new life into his current (old?) one.
For all the lamenting the death of his bachelorhood, Kyoya was actually grateful he hadn’t had much time to experiment or become involved. It would have made the entire situation more unpleasant. Infidelity was dishonorable, and understandably, in violation of the soon-to-be confirmed betrothal contract.
In the confines of his mind, still visually glossing over the boring highway flashing by, Kyoya contemplated the boy. Harry.
He would be unsettled by the contract marriage idea entirely if Kyoya had to guess. Kyoya was familiar with it - his brothers had gone through it as well, but he wasn’t fool enough to think that all contracts ended in love.
His brothers were either lucky or faking it. They weren’t the closest, so Kyoya couldn’t be too sure.
If nothing else, the foundation of the contract provided a satisfactory basis of respect between Kyoya and Harry. The heir requirement might… complicate things if they found themselves to be romantically incompatible, but they could make adjustments in time.
Kyoya found himself thankful, again, that despite the contract being forced on him, at least he knew he liked men. Girls, he was unsure about, and now he would probably never figure it out definitively.
The girls at the host club certainly hadn’t inspired confidence in his expectations for marriage, but Kyoya conceded that they were teenagers.
At the end of the day, Harry being male was very low, if not nonexistent, on his list of concerns with this marriage.
The car exits the highway, rolling into a suburban sprawl of cookie-cutter houses that Kyoya tried to like, but just felt utterly underwhelmed by his soon-to-be fiance's hometown.
There was a park, filled with burly teenagers that seemed to be gagging about - pointing and advancing on something behind a play structure, but they stopped at the sight of the car.
It was a beaut, Kyoya thought with an internal smirk.
The beaut in question was a 1996 Rolls-Royce Silver Spur. Yoshio had arranged for the two vehicles to be waiting at the private airport for their arrival. Yoshio left Reina and Kyoya with a searching look and short words of good luck.
Even Reina had been a bit starry-eyed at the luxury beast of a sedan.
The teens continued to gape at the car as it glided the length of the street parallel to the park, jaws continuing to gape as they disappeared around the bend. Shortly after, the driver slowed, pulling to a stop on the right-hand curb.
Reina opened her door and gracefully left the car, a slim briefcase in hand.
The chauffeur opened Kyoya’s door at lightning speed, even offering a hand to Kyoya as he maneuvered his long limbs from the car.
Kyoya stood, straightening his shirt and re-buttoning his jacket, despite the heat. First impressions mattered, after all.
Kyoya scanned his surroundings. Every house on the cul-de-sac seemed to have the same blueprint, with extremely little variation from its neighbor.
Some windows were thrown wide due to the heat, whilst others had their curtains drawn. Number Six fell into the latter category, which confused Kyoya, as it seemed the inhabitants were desperate for the knowledge of what was going on outside.
Their arrival had drawn attention. It made Kyoya’s neck itch unpleasantly.
He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, making eye contact with a neighbor across the street as he did so.
She was miming cutting leaves from a rose bush. Kyoya was unsure if the acting was intentional or if she was truly so starved for gossip to be so thoroughly removed from her reality.
Kyoya quirked an eyebrow at her, darting his eyes to the bush, and she startled, face flushing.
With a small snort, Kyoya rounded the car, joining Reina in the drive, and asking the chauffeur to keep the car ready.
Reina eyed him, and, feeling appreciative of the peace she’d given him during the drive, Kyoya graced her with a small, confident smile.
“Shall we?” He asked, sweeping his arm towards the door with a small flair.
Reina matched his smile and marched up to the door, knocking confidently. Once. Twice.
The house seemed quiet. Kyoya held perfectly still as they waited, hoping for a response. There was a car in the drive, after all.
Petunia Dursley opens the door, a sickly smile plastered on her face.
“Can I help you?”