The Greengrass family.

Sacred Twenty-Eight. Blood Supremacy.

All an absurd joke.

What was point in having the purest blood, without any substance? What was there to brag about a dying culture? An archaic class system that didn't care about anything other than magic and might. Clean blood versus dirty. Political pull versus pandering.

But where was the love between people who were forced to marry? Do they learn to love over time? If not, when do they surrender to life of being comfortable, or having something familiar?

Astoria and Daphne's lives were bound by secrets and a loveless marriage; back when their parents were young, they had had no choice. Honor their heritage. Honor their family. Being a service to their bloodline.

Her mother a dark-haired beauty with a pearl white grin and cold demeanor. Her father, unlike many of the other suitors, was a weaker man, a more feminineman. One of the last heirs to the British Greengrass family with direct link to the Wizengamot, and a relatively handsome wizard. Articulate, well-mannered pureblooded wizard, oddly enough not gaining any available witches.

Because they knew the rumors, the stories whispered between circles. The only way to have any semblance of love from that man – they gossiped – would have to come from a dose of love potion. Jude Greengrass preferred the company of his own gender.

But similar could be said about Miss Chantelle Selwyn, a frosty woman who had more resent and pent up anger against wizards than stampeding pack of beasts. Her beauty was a testament to good breeding, but little could be said about her dominant personality. Her family had believed she would end up as a spinster. No one wanted a wife that could and would undermine their authority.

Despite the lack of ring, Jude had gotten down on his knee. At this point, he didn't even care about soiling his trousers, he could only focus on taking Chantelle's hand.

"Will you Chantelle Selwyn do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Jude proposed to Chantelle after a stroll on his property in the English countryside. It had come as a welcoming surprise for their family members, who had taken the initiative to prepare a quick wedding. They didn't want either of them to get cold feet about the arrangement.

What they didn't understand is that Chantelle had made a deal – they would retain an equal partnership in their marriage and he had to give her at least two heirs of her own; otherwise he could go on with his illicit life behind closed doors – Jude could hardly refuse.


In time, Jude had found a mutual companionship with his wife. He had kept his end of the deal. He had only ever touched her out of duty to his bloodline, but he could see that she craved for affection that he could not give her. Too proud to ask anything of him, she suffered in silence.

He had saw the longing looks in her eyes, before they flashed to indifference. How she was last to relinquish her grip when he laid beside her post colitis.

"Jude?" Her eyes swimming with emotion, a rarity from Chantelle. She was still wrapped in the bed linen as he began buttoning his shirt intending to leave.

He turned to her, interested in what she had to say to him before he left. "Yes, my dear?"

She could ask him to stay, but that charming smile deterred her. She couldn't when he looked so excited to leave. "Have a goodnight." He touched her face, watching her face fade back to indifference. Something had upset her, but he knew now, he wouldn't be able to coax it from her.

"Goodnight Chantelle." He said, holding her gaze for a moment longer. No change. He left the room shortly after that.

Their married life had been a lonely one for his wife. He promised one day, he would try to find a way to love his wife.

Eventually Jude Greengrass found love the day that Daphne had been born. It was the first time his sacrifice of freedom had all been worth it, he had found love at last. He would have never believed he could love another being, especially a girl, with all his entirety.

"Isn't she beautiful darling?" Chantelle inquired, watching her husband coddle their new daughter. The look of admiration and awe filled Chantelle's heart with much needed warmth.

"She's perfect."

But the moment that baby girl was placed in his arms, he knew he wanted to do everything for his darling Daphne, and later his miracle Astoria.

A few weeks after Astoria's birth, he had made up his mind. He was going to love his wife no matter what it took to achieve the results. He had even smiled when the pearly sheen potion first touched his lips.

If he only knew how his life went to shambles by one selfless action.


Astoria remembered what it was like growing up in a home with mutilated love. For days on end, her father would follow their mother around like a lost puppy. Singing the praises for a woman – their mother – who could hardly show anything other than an insincere smirk. A woman who was domineering and quick to chastise, so unlike the mothers of her friends, who were pleasantly stern and affectionate to their children.

And there was days where her father was listless and apathetic. He could hardly look in their mother's direction without contemptuous anger. Those days, her mother hid from her father. It was as if, anything less than eternal admiration from her father drove her micromanaging mother into a tail spin. Only for her to reappear from seclusion when her father had return to buoyant persona.

When she had shown interest in courtship – her parents were originally against her choice in suitor.

She had found Draco when he had come back for an eighth year of education. They had similar backgrounds, similar torments, similar desires, and they had clung to each other when they needed it the most.

Within a lustrum, she and Draco had found a deeper connection than what her parents had. They were determined to make them relent to their wishes. On one of his low days, her father finally acquiesced.

"Astoria." She knelt down, beside her father's chair. He would hardly look from the floor in this state.

"Yes?" She answered uncertain.

His eyes flicked up momentarily from the marble tiles, to his daughter, who had lightened his burdens, "You'll never understand, just how much I envy you. Marry someone you truly love."

They had gotten married the following winter.

She was a victim of the system she grew up in. Yes, she fell in love with a man of considerable stature, wealth, and blood – but Draco was more than what looked good on parchment or what was said in gossip circles – he was a man who loved her and would help raise her child in an environment vastly different than they were raised in.

Her sweet Draco, a husband without a clue, tried his damnedest to make her smile. Even when she had become so weak towards the end, barely able to lift her head properly. Astoria knew that Draco's unfettered devotion and Scorpius's unending charisma would heal the wounds of her past.