Traumatised from being Sorted into Gryffindor and not Hufflepuff on Pottermore so I wrote about Slytherins to cheer myself up. Surprisingly, it worked fairly well. Also, I spend too much time travelling on buses; it results in these sorts of peculiar plots.
Warning: VERY NON-CANON PAIRING, age disparity and manipulation on a mutual level.
Disclaimer: I gain nothing but satisfaction, maybe a review or two.
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"one price of glory"
came the night, came the morning
another night, another dawning
[little boy lost ; johnny ashcroft]
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- - D. Greengrass/ H. Slughorn - -
Daphne Greengrass is young and beautiful and undeniably Slytherin; a throwback to the old days when Slytherins were crafty and full of initiative, so unlike the recent generations who value neither subtlety nor innovation.
She is using him, he knows; milking him for his connections and absorbing the reflected, fragmented glory of the last remaining Master Potioneer, Horace Slughorn, in the company of the most successful figures of the Wizarding community.
But Daphne, with her alabaster skin and honey-blonde hair, is not the only Slytherin engaged in exploitation. Not for a moment. He spent seven years learning Slytherin House politics, with a teacher career as Head of House following. He understands manipulation.
So he permits her pixie-blue eyes to follow the movements of the young men who attend the events; allows her to flirt and charm them in succession to the brink of adultery; but he does not worry. He is using her, too, after all, and casual liaisons are unfeasible when pureblood marriage bonds are in place.
She is his until death do part them.
Another man might fret for his life under these circumstances but Horace Slughorn fears no unnatural death; he is too much the perfect Slytherin. A lifetime of respect and understanding in the volatile area of Potions has given him that security and nobody left in the world could succeed in causing his untimely demise. There is at least another quarter century in him yet, he thinks, and even at fifty Daphne will retain her ethereal beauty, easily able to seduce her young beaux – perhaps she'll even encourage one to the point of matrimony – but it is of no concern to him.
Now his only thought is of the stares and sideway glances they gather as they enter parties; he knows exactly what their audience is thinking: how has this limber, young lass found herself attached to his ageing arm – she, a raging beauty, and he, an overweight former schoolteacher?
It is a secret that neither will reveal.
It is based upon prices, a concept unmistakeably Slytherin: attention for contacts, affection for glory.
Affection for glory.
Daphne Greengrass perfectly understands prices. Under her vows she performs her wifely duties; she is the very definition of a Slytherin (…any means to achieve their ends), patient and cunning – a quarter of a century is nothing to a witch, after all – and by her half-century Daphne Greengrass-Slughorn will have made herself into a most valuable force in the Wizarding world.
In silence, he hopes she will bear his progeny in her wake so his line may continue and aid the return of the Slytherin ideal (for their children could be nothing else, he's sure).
In silence, he fears for those who underestimate her cunning.
In silence, he watches her ascent.
End.
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