Wedding Bells
"Hello, Greengrass," said Harry, trying to slide past the girl and into the train.
"Potter." Daphne inclined her head, but grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. "I shoved my mum."
"You did what?" asked Harry, jerking his arm from her. "Why?"
"Well." Daphne sniffed, and tossed her long, dark hair. "She said, that Father said, that Grandfather had struck a deal to marry me off to you, in exchange for a cask of wine."
"Marry me?" asked Harry dumbstruck.
"Yes," said Daphne delightedly. "I will marry you!"
"No, no." Harry backed into the closed door of a train compartment. "I meant, 'What d'you mean, that they struck a deal to marry you?'"
"Oh," said Daphne, approaching the cornered boy. "Grandfather liked wine. And your family had some that he did not have. So I suppose that he figured my hand for the cask was a fair price."
"How could he do that?" said Harry, his voice pale. "It's medieval!"
"It's not so bad," said Daphne, leaning her chin against him, and coiling her arms about his chest. "Grandfather's dead, and there's still plenty of his wine left for the ceremony and the reception, and probably enough to fill our home's wine cellar."
"Erm, Greengrass," muttered Harry, growing remarkably hot around the collar at her proximity and actions. "Why do you want to marry me? You're a Slytherin."
"I don't want to!" the girl cried, inches from his face. "I just need you to crack through my tough exterior and love me for the girl that I am!"
"But you don't have a tough exterior," said Harry. "You didn't even want to touch the flobberworms at the end of last term."
"They were gross, Potter," said Daphne, cupping his cheek. "Frigid girls can dislike gross worms, you know."
"All right, then," said Harry, trying to pull away. "But you're not frigid. Your skin's rather warm."
"It's a figure of speech," admonished Daphne. She pinched his cheek. "I'm frigid and emotionally distant, because… wait a second. If I told you why I act the way that I do, what's going to make you fall in love with me, and fulfill the contract?"
"What?" said Harry. "How? I mean. I don't understand."
"Harry, Harry," said Daphne, patting his face. Suddenly, she struck him across the face. "We are to be married, whether you like it or not! Now. Come. I have adult lingerie on, and I must convince you, using only hateful words, that I love you and want you to rip my underthings off with your teeth."
"But we're fourteen," whispered Harry, clutching his stinging cheek. Daphne had left a hand print, red and glowing, on his face. "I don't want to be married to a Slytherin. Everyone will make fun of me."
"Hush, love." Daphne tugged him along down the corridor. "You'll soon come to realize that Slytherin house is full of diverse and morally ambiguous people who use ambition, cunning, and stealth to get what they want. Like grandfather did to get the wine, and like I am doing to get you."
"Is it really that cunning or stealthy, to explain it to me, Greengrass?" asked Harry.
"Well, Harry… I can, after all that has happened between us, call you Harry, right?" Daphne's blue eyes practically glowed when he nodded, mute. She traced her warm fingers over his face. "So then, fiancé, as I was saying, we all use stealth and deceit to get at our goals, but the goals themselves aren't uniformly sinister."
"So why do you want to marry me?" asked Harry.
"I said…" shrieked Daphne. "I don't want to marry you! This was forced upon me, and I'm making the best of it!"
"Ok," said Harry. "Don't hit me."
"Oh my," said Daphne, suddenly tender. "Were you abused as a child?"
"No!" said Harry. "I said 'don't hit me,' because you hit me before!"
"I did not," said Daphne. "That was a love tap."
"But you don't love me!" said Harry.
"Not yet," replied Daphne. "I am warming up to you, though."
"Why?" asked Harry. He winced as he asked another question, and grabbed onto the Slytherin as he corrected himself, and cut off another one of her fits. "I mean… ok, it's all ok, Greengrass."
"Ok?" said Daphne, clapping her hands. "So you will bite my knickers off when we get to the compartment?"
"Sure," said Harry. "I'll do whatever you like. Just stop being yourself."
"Do you love me?" asked Daphne pleasantly.
"Oh, absolutely!" replied Harry.
"I love you, too. What type of cake would you like at the wedding?" said Daphne.
"Chocolate," said Harry.
"Red velvet it is!"
"But I said… nothing, nothing! It's all ok."
"Oh, you are so good with women, Harry," purred Daphne, finally reaching her intended compartment. "I used to be upset with Grandfather, but now, after getting to know you, and knowing what makes you tick, beyond all that Boy Who Lived rubbish, I think he really made a great decision. What do you think?"
Daphne flung the compartment door open, pulled him inside, shut the door, and began to strip. It was a moment before Harry answered her.
"I think it's a blessing he left all that wine."