Chapter Text
Liam and Rosaline browsed through the service catalog the event contractors had given them with interest. Rosaline paused on the “Most Recommended” page as she read the chef’s information and specialties with a wide smile; she was so focused that she didn’t even notice her fiancé recoil as if he’d been struck in the stomach with undeniable force upon reading the name on the first page.
"If you’re thinking of hiring Chef Potter’s services, we recommend you also hire Mr. Jackson—he’s an excellent florist!"
Rosaline leaned forward with interest.
"Why are they recommended together? If we may know the reason, of course!"
The contractor smiled, ecstatic, as if he had been waiting years to be asked that particular question.
"For context, wedding planners will tell you that Harry Potter is a chef known for preparing more-than-excellent banquets, a bit reserved, but with kind eyes; meanwhile, Percy Jackson is a florist who is called upon for his incredible taste and his great touch with plants. As a rare coincidence we wedding planners have noticed, they always worked the same events—always!"
It became a mandatory synergy; every couple who sought advice to begin planning their special event received the same recommendation: hire both men to make their wedding a grand occasion.
The curious part? Harry and Percy had never spoken to each other. Never. They didn’t even know they were working together as in the same events. But neither the contractor, nor Liam, much less Rosaline, knew that.
Harry was asleep when he received a call on his work cellphone. He stretched lazily as he hurried to answer it, clearing his throat and swallowing to lessen the hoarse tone sleep had surely left in his voice.
"Yes? Chef Potter speaking."
"Harry, my boy! Delighted to speak with you again. I hope I’m not disturbing you—are you still in England?"
"Alastor," he said in recognition. "Yes, of course. Though next month I have to fly to the United States to cater for a company welcoming their new CEO… do you have something for me?"
"A more-than-excellent deal, of course. I’ve recently been working with wedding catalogs; there’s a couple looking for your services. I checked your calendar and the bride is willing to move the date as long as you’re there for her banquet."
"Can you give me more details?"
"Of course. The bride is an American no-maj and the groom is a British wizard. They hope that, if you accept, they can have a formal meeting with you according to your schedule. They’ll be in the United States for two more months, then they’ll come to England to begin the wedding preparations more formally."
"Tell them I’ll be in the United States in three weeks. I’ll arrive early so I can speak with them and start discussing budgets, dates, menu, and the wedding degustation menu."
"Very well then… July 15th for the first meeting?"
"You read my mind."
"We’ll be in touch, Harry."
July arrived quickly enough to make Harry feel pressured. He made last-minute preparations, speaking with his suppliers in the United States to ensure every last detail was in order before heading to the Ministry of Magic to receive the international Portkey he had previously requested.
Fortunately, Harry had been in the business for years, and it was well known that because of his work as a chef in both the Muggle and magical worlds, he required various portkeys to do his job properly.
They handed him his Portkey an hour before activation, warning him that his return date was set in England’s time zone, so he would depart on July 27th at 4 a.m.
Harry felt the familiar tug below his navel that signaled apparition. He endured the few minutes it took to arrive at the Woolworth Building, register his entry into the country, and head toward the hotel where he always stayed; as he was a man of simple, established habits.
"Reservation under Harry Potter's name."
The receptionist was different from the last time he’d visited the United States, so he assumed Viktoria had finally graduated from university and begun her formal work as a nurse.
"I’ll need identification, sir."
Harry handed it over without fanfare, waiting as “Linda,” according to her name tag, finished the registration.
"And all set. Welcome, Mr. Potter. Your room is number 442, on the fourth floor. Enjoy your stay!"
The next day, after a well-deserved rest, Harry apparated to Alastor’s offices, where they had agreed to meet. The man greeted him with a hug and began chatting about how the wedding would be mixed and discreet regarding magic, since the bride’s family was entirely non-magical.
"We’re not looking for a magical spectacle with the catering, just something completely no-maj. I hope that’s not a problem for you?"
"Not at all, Alastor. You know I grew up with Muggles; it’s more common for me to do it that way anyway."
Alastor led him to the end of the hallway, to the door on the left. When he let him into the office, Harry had to gather all his willpower to keep his face from revealing the immense flood of emotions running through his heart; the couple looked deeply in love, seated leaning toward each other. The woman was a beautiful blonde with brown eyes and a cheerful face, and the man…
Well, that was Liam Abernathy. His ex-partner.
Harry had spent so long working, ignoring the pain in his heart, that he truly hadn’t had time to think about Liam and the three words that had been enough to break it.
"I don’t love you," he had said. "I never did. You’re a mere half-blood; your father was a filthy blood traitor. I don’t love you. I only played with you."
Harry had always had a strange relationship with love; he had always been left aside. Always the unexpected addition, the unwanted child, the least loved. Not being loved wasn’t a surprise, but the pain that followed after trusting someone so deeply… that had shattered him.
He blinked twice to chase away the sting in his eyes and offered the woman his most sincere smile. She was a Muggle woman, he remembered; Liam’s argument in the past had been about the filth of his blood.
"Chef Potter! It’s a pleasure. I’m Rosaline, and this is my fiancé—"
"Harry," Liam muttered, gesturing with his hand, only to be reprimanded with disapproval by his fiancée.
"Don’t be rude, Liam."
"We’ve met," Harry said with one of his well-practiced smiles for the Daily Prophet. "It’s a pleasure, Rosaline. Liam and I were school acquaintances. Please, have a seat again. Alastor mentioned you’re willing to move the wedding a few weeks to match my availability, correct?"
"Yeah, yes," Rosaline paused for a moment, analyzing his words. "From school, you say?"
"Yes. I have the relevant details regarding your status; nothing that affects my work. Alastor mentioned you want something traditionally Muggle. I intend to settle the menu today and work on the tasting according to your availability, though preferably within the first three months of wedding planning."
The door opened almost immediately after Harry finished speaking. A tall and rather attractive man entered—Harry remembered seeing him among Alastor’s highlighted recommendations.
"I hope I’m not interrupting anything. The couple asked me to come today…"
"Come in, Mr. Jackson," Alastor greeted warmly. "I don’t think Mr. Potter will mind at all."
"Please, have a seat," Harry said.
They began scheduling. Fortunately for Harry, Liam had been unusually quiet since the so called Percy arrived, so Rosaline and Harry mostly dominated the conversation.
"September 27th is the closest date after your scheduled arrival in the United Kingdom, with a comfortable gap from your arrival date, so it shouldn’t be stressful to hold our tasting meeting."
"Yes, I agree with the scheduling. The dates align well with my own events."
"Though I’ll need you to decide on desserts and drinks more urgently. Do I need to speak with my Scottish suppliers about anything in particular?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not entirely," Liam assured. "We’ll stick to typical American and English dishes, though I’m eager to add butterbeer to the drink menu so the younger guests have something warm to drink. We’re planning for our wedding to be in October."
Harry pressed his lips together, half in concentration, half to keep the grimace of pain from crossing his face.
"I have too many bad memories in October—my parents died on Halloween… I’d like to honor them when the time comes and turn autumn into a sign of affection. If we ever get married, let it be at the end of October."
Now, Harry felt foolish for having shared that.
At least one of them would get married in October.
Fortunately, thanks to the mysterious florist from Alastor’s “most recommended” list, the hours Harry spent planning the wedding banquet of his ex felt less painful.
"I’ll send you the pre-generated seasonal menus so you can get an idea of the kinds of dishes usually prepared in autumn. Once you decide on the dishes, we can work on what best fits your budget—a buffet or a three-course dinner." Harry opened his briefcase and began taking out the documents, including a definition of what a buffet was and how the catering would work according to their choices.
"Then the tasting aligns perfectly with the selection of floral arrangements and the layout for the church and reception hall. Incredible," Percy said, clapping. "I have to meet another client soon, so I’ll have to leave shortly. Any other details you’d like to discuss?"
"We’re completely satisfied with what we achieved today," Liam said. "My fiancée would like to make a comment, however."
"Of course, we’re all ears," Percy said, smiling.
"I think you make a beautiful couple. I can see why they recommend hiring both of you for events. The way you work together and complement each other’s ideas… I know from experience it’s difficult to achieve."
"We’ll see you soon," Liam said. His eyes lingered on Harry for what felt like a long moment before taking Rosaline’s hand and leaving the office with her.
Harry and Percy remained silent for a few minutes.
"I didn’t expect that at all," Harry said. "I’m sorry they misunderstood things."
Percy grinned widely.
"Why not play along? It seems we sold it without even trying. How hard can it be to put on a show?"
"The groom is my ex. It’s awkward enough already."
"All the more reason we should do it! Don’t you want to do something about it?"
Harry thought about it for only a few seconds before a mischievous smile —one he was sure hadn’t been seen since his fifth year at Hogwarts— appeared on his face as he nodded.
"Should I call you my beloved?" Harry asked playfully.
"Only if I can start calling you my sweetie-pie," Percy replied with a wink.