In the same fan-verse as 'one price of glory'.
"keeping house"
and every stop is neatly planned
for a poet and a one-man band
( homeward bound ; simon & garfunkel )
Horace Slughorn is a conniving bastard. Daphne knows this fact well - she's been married to the man for three years, after all – but his newest scheme goes beyond all the others in both skill and ambition.
Admittedly, a tiny part of her is extremely impressed, but the rest seethes visibly, disgruntled and irritated at being conned so successfully. It irks her that he remains her intellectual superior, an undeniable master in cunning and manipulation, but not enough to give her cause to rethink their agreement. She is simply frustrated and embarrassed at being caught out so easily.
You see, Horace Slughorn understands power. He understands the importance of networking and the benefits of having social adroitness – it's one of the reasons why he chose Daphne Greengrass to be his bride. It is also the reason he has quite unashamedly set her up.
As of recent months, he has found himself in an enviable position. He is one of the Minister's primary confidantes – an advisor, of sorts – and has subsequently become privy to one of the Wizarding World's newest secrets: the wealthiest wizard in Britain, the CEO of the largest apothecary franchise in Europe, has put something in the way of twelve million Galleons into the hands of the Ministry under strict terms that they will construct a tertiary education centre to rival those in North America. His son, a handsome, young professor of Arithmancy, has been nominated as Dean.
Fodder for scandal has never been so easily collected, and oh, yes, does Horace Slughorn understand the importance of a scandal.
His subsequent meddling has had the desired effect, but it has also thrown his wife into a foul humour, hungry for a scene (which, while not public, will do her simmering anger wonders).
"You aggravating, horrid, scheming warlock!" she screeches in crescendo, discovering him in the parlour. Her husband, seated in a Louis XIV armchair he has either procured genuinely or simply via transfiguration, deigns to glance up from his newspaper.
"My dear," he says calmly, "pot and kettle, surely."
Daphne seethes.
Irately, she snatches the paper from his hands, casting aside the irrelevant pages until she finds what she is looking for: a double page spread of photos and speculation dedicated entirely to her very own self. Her mortification is palpable.
"How dare you use me like that," she hisses, shoving it before him.
In actual fact, her anger comes less from his actions than his decision to keep her uninformed, but she won't admit that to him.
"Our agreement didn't cover this."
He shrugs. "It's a method of advancement, my girl. Surely you can see how it will benefit us in the long run."
She paces. "Not yet, but I'll cede to say that maybe it will become clearer to me with time. My trouble, Horace, comes from the defamation of my character."
"Ah," he sighs. "Well, it couldn't be helped in this case. Of course, I myself realise you wouldn't have done anything so common, even if you weren't restricted by our marriage bonds, but journalism rarely take truth into account."
"I will not be used so."
Horace looks up at her with a raised brow and folds his hands across his paunch. "I gather by that you really mean 'without your prior permission'."
She offers a half-shrug; it is true enough – and only fair, after all. She needs to be warned what is coming in these situations since they aren't exactly an unknown couple in the Wizarding world. It requires preparation to speak beneficially to journalists.
"Fine."
She glances shrewdly at him, but he is perfectly serious.
Having successfully made her point she turns to leave, but he grasps her hand gently, bringing it to his lips to bestow an apparently perfunctory kiss. "I apologise for any ill-humour I may have caused, my dear."
"So you should, Horry," she grumbles fondly, having forgiven him already for his deceit. "I am ill-used by you. Ah, I hope this plot of yours rings true – for your sake! I have plans of my own, remember, and the devil take you if you disrupt them before the time comes."
He laughs as she disappears back to her own quarters, ruffled feathers soothed.
They deal well together, the former student and professor, as long as their plans run in harmony.
End.
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