Great Expectations

"Team USA!" Ginny exclaimed, snatching the paper away from Harry as they sat in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place lingering over their late breakfast. "Wow! I wonder what it was like! Do you think they showed her the Harlem Shuffle?"

Harry drank his tea and watched her with amusement as she scanned the article. There was a flash of green in the fireplace and he looked up to see Draco's head appear in the flames.

"Harry? Are you there?" he asked. Ginny drew her dressing gown together, her eyes wide.

"Draco has your floo address?"

"I gave it to him just after the new year when we were at Antares Hall."

"Why?"

"Things have changed, Ginny. It'll be fine. Why don't you get dressed and I'll see what he wants." Harry nodded to the door.

"We are not through discussing this, Harry! What if Ron or Mum had flooed? Have you forgotten that I'm supposed to be at Hermione's?" She gave him a menacing look and rushed out in a huff.

Harry shook his head and turned back to the fireplace. "Come on through, Draco."

A few seconds later, Draco stepped out of the fireplace and into the kitchen. Kreacher gave him a bow and offered him some breakfast.

"No, Kreacher. Thank you, I've eaten. I know it's early, Harry." He sniffed, catching a whiff of something flowery in the air and noticed a second place setting with the remains of eggs and toast on the plate. "Have I…caught you at a bad time?" he asked, arching a brow. Harry shrugged.

"What's on your mind? Worried that Épiphanie has defected for the American team?" Harry smiled.

"Hardly." Draco assumed his cool and aloof tone of voice. "Actually, there was another article that caught my eye. I was wondering if you saw this." He dragged the paper across the table and pointed to the headline near the bottom of the page. Harry adjusted his glasses and read the short article.

"Okay. And?" he looked at Draco curiously.

"Well, what do you think?" Draco demanded. Harry shrugged.

"I've already said that I plan to enter Auror training when school is over. I think if you're really interested, then go for it. At least you have the means to support yourself if it doesn't work out."

"No, I'm thinking of an investment. I'm offering you the opportunity to get involved as a partner. It won't interfere with your plans to become an Auror." Draco sat down and explained his inspiration to him. Harry looked at him skeptically.

"You're serious? Have you really given this thought, Draco? It's a huge undertaking. You need more than just capital. There's land and—"

"I have more than enough land. I know that there's still research to be done, but on the surface I think it's doable. I need something with my mark on it, Harry. I know don't have to do this, I want to. Clearly I can rest on my laurels and live off Lucius' investments and the Malfoy assets for the rest of my life. I want to make something that doesn't have the taint of all the generations of dark dealings that are associated with the Malfoy name. I thought of you first because it's a venture of some interest to you." Draco's voice was almost pleading.

"You need me to convince the Ministry to give you a chance," Harry leveled a serious stare at him. Draco's shoulders slumped.

"Actually, I hadn't even thought of that part…I guess you have a point." He sighed. "Harry, I need this. I want it. If I have any chance of proving myself truly worthy to Épiphanie as anything other than some spoiled, narcissistic, git, I have to do something worthwhile. This is perfect. I have firsthand knowledge, capital—and it will be all mine, not something I inherited or stole, but something that I had a hand in creating."

Harry regarded Draco for several minutes. He looked into his eyes and saw pure passion in them. There was something else in Draco's eyes that gave him pause. He was sober. Draco Malfoy was earnestly begging him to consider his investment idea. He knew that Malfoy was hardly in need of capital for the project, having just found himself in possession of a fortune quite as large and valuable as his own. If he honestly hadn't considered the value of Harry's name being attached to the endeavor in order to secure Ministry approval, then he must have sincerely considered that his new friend would be interested in taking part. Harry heaved a deep sigh.

"I must be crazy. We still haven't settled our Iron Bowl wager. You owe me for talking McGonagall into that project, and we've got a great deal of planning on that before N.E.W.T.s. IF you're serious, then you'll have to prove it. You do the research and come up with a concrete plan for this thing and I'm in."

"You really mean it?" Draco looked at him in surprise.

"I've always been a man of my word, Malfoy." Harry offered his hand. Draco smiled broadly as he took it, shaking it firmly.

Épiphanie smiled for the camera as she accepted a bouquet from a first year Ilvermorny girl. Several flashbulbs strobed before her eyes and she felt a bit dizzy. She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds when they finally stopped and was grateful when she was finally shown to her table in the Dining Hall. Here at Ilvermorny, instead of four long tables running the length of the hall, students dined at round tables, generally seated with friends from their home state or province. Épiphanie was seated at a table with seventh year students from Louisiana and Mississippi.

"So, you're all in different houses?" she asked.

"The only time we really group by house is at the start-of-term feast and end-of-term. There are also special occasions when our houses are grouped together, but even then you'll mostly find the Canadians sitting together. New England, Southerners, California, Northwest—all grouped together in their houses. We just get along differently," explained a blonde girl named Amanda Prescott who identified herself as a Wampus.

"That's cool. I wish we had a setup like this at Hogwarts. No one would ever think of sitting at another house table. Loyalty is a huge deal. Kids mix outside of class, but not a whole lot outside of their house. It's like SEC football." About half of the students at the table laughed. The other half looked on in confusion.

"The purebloods don't get it," said one of the boys. He was a Thunderbird by the name of Michael Montgomery.

"Yeah, I had to explain it to my friends too. After I did, they nicknamed the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match the Iron Bowl," Épiphanie said. That elicited even more laughter from the no-maj—parent students. "So are there many half-blood or muggleborn—I mean no-maj-parent students here?" she asked.

"Meh, maybe about a quarter of us have no-maj parents, and another quarter are half-blood. Rappaport's Law was pretty strict about mixing with no-majs," said Michael. Their plates appeared on the table and the discussion died down for a few minutes as the group eagerly dug into roast chicken and vegetables with mashed potatoes, hot rolls and a choice of pumpkin juice or sweet tea in pitchers.

"My granddaddy had met my nana during summer break in 1962 and he was dating her in secret. They weren't allowed to take their wands home from school back then, so it was a little easier to hide his magic. He said it was harder to explain to her why he didn't understand segregation or that he had never been to a movie theater," said a girl named Antoinette Duplessis. Her braided hair was shaped in a bobbed style.

"Heh. I bet!" Épiphanie exclaimed.

"She said she thought that he was just real country from way out in the bayou."

"So you really didn't know you were a witch until last summer?" asked Amanda.

"Not a clue. I just thought I had some awesome powers."

"And you can do—" Antoinette leaned in and lowered her voice. "wandless magic?"

"Really?... You can?...Can you show us?" the students murmured with interest.

"We-ell, not really." Épiphanie lied. This was not a rumor she wanted to confirm. "Probably any of you can summon things without a wand." She shrugged, grateful at that moment that the dinner plates were cleared and a cluster of dessert trays appeared in the center of the table laden with cupcakes, cookies, petit fours and other pastries.

"Well, is it true that you're friends with Harry Potter?" asked another boy at the table, named Tanner. The Pukwudgie boy's straight, golden hair and genteel drawl reminded Épiphanie a bit of Draco—had he been American. "The Harry Potter?"

"Mm-hmm!" Épiphanie selected a chocolate cupcake and removed the paper cake cup. "He came with my father the first time we met." She took a bite of the amazingly decadent cake.

"Is he really a descendant of Abraham Potter?" Amanda asked.

"Apparently so. A great uncle or some such."

"Damn! I just knew that Iolanthe was making it up!"

"You know, ma mère swore up and down that you were a witch," said Antoinette. "Nobody ever believed that Marie Laveau would have absolutely no magical descendants—even if her children were born to a plaçage with a no-maj."

Épiphanie gave her a look of disdain.

"You are so fuckin' rude, Antoinette!" Tanner exclaimed.

"Well it's common knowledge!" Antoinette argued.

"This is probably why our houses aren't allowed to eat together," Épiphanie. "And it is common knowledge that my ancestor's children were born from a left-handed marriage." Antoinette gave Tanner an I-told-you-so look. Épiphanie took another cupcake from the tray and ran her finger through the icing. "But you should know, Antoinette, that the last person to insult me like that no longer walks with the living." She licked her finger.

"Are you saying that you killed him?" Michael asked.

"Of course not! That doesn't make him any less dead though." Épiphanie poured a glass of tea from the pitcher on the table. "You of all people should also know that I am an amazing legilimens, so if you start that rumor that I killed someone, like you're planning to, it won't bode well for you. Okay, boo?" She sipped her tea, staring the girl down over the rim of her glass. The group was silent for a few moments.

"Daayum, girl! You gangsta!" Michael exclaimed. "I bet they weren't ready for you over there, huh? So check this, I just wanna know. That dude that you were flying with in Seeker Weekly…"

"I guess you mean Draco Malfoy. He's captain of our house team. I didn't know we made Seeker Weekly."

"You kidding? That dive you did after dude knocked you off your broom was freakin' awesome! They're calling it the Shacklebolt Special!"

"That's crazy! It was special alright. It was so special that we lost our house 100 points, got two weeks detention and our brooms taken away. My dad threatened to keep my broom indefinitely!"

"Uh-huh. So whassup with the two of you?" Michael asked. Épiphanie gave him an innocent look.

"Inquiring minds wanna know," said Amanda. She rested her chin on her hand. "Spella Weekly showed a picture of you and him at that big New Year's Eve ball. The Sacred Twenty-Eight. He's too cute!" she giggled.

"I think he kinda looks like Tanner—with longer hair. Was he really a Death Eater?" another girl at the table spoke up. The other girls agreed. The boys at the table rolled their eyes and Tanner turned bright red.

"Well? Y'all got a thing, or does a brotha have a chance over here?" Michael pressed.

"Uh, I'll just say that it's complicated."

"Ah, man! She's probably like all y'all other girls—a sucker for an English accent!" Michael groused lightheartedly.

"So which house has the best Quidditch team?" Épiphanie asked eager to change the topic.

Épiphanie was more than grateful when her scheduled public appearances were done and she could enjoy a bit of shopping and sightseeing before they left New York City. She'd purchased souvenirs for her friends as well as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, then spent a fair amount of time in Macy's, Barneys, and Bergdorf Goodman searching for a perfect something special for Draco, but nothing really stood out as particularly personal.

Their time apart served to remind her of the feelings that she had developed for him. Being apart felt as if she was missing a part of herself. She could feel his longing for her late at night as she lay, thinking of him. He was fighting his demons for her sake. She delved into his thoughts in the hopes of bringing him some peace. It was the first time she had ever dared to do more than read his thoughts and speak to him. She wove a true fantasy especially for him.

Oddly enough, Draco now seemed to be resisting her. He was concentrating on something. What it was she couldn't seem to figure out, but when she was able to break through, she saw him hard at work and surrounded by numerous parchments and wizards who appeared unfamiliar. Once she found him in deep discussion with Harry and she tried to focus in, but Draco must have felt her, for she was quickly shut out. Nonetheless, in their quiet times, he would once again let his guard down and seemed to be waiting for her. As much as she wanted to find out what he was hiding, Épiphanie wanted to trust Draco to reveal whatever his secret was in his own way and his own time. If she was to trust him, she had to demonstrate that he could trust her. Épiphanie found herself inside a small shop with all manner of bespoke jewelry items. Her escorts lingered near the store's entrance as she quietly browsed the glass cases admiring all of the lovely creations when she saw it. She smiled.

"It's perfect!"

Over the remaining days of the week, Malfoy Manor saw a number of owls coming and going and personnel at the Ministry of Magic were curious at the number of visits made by Draco Malfoy, including one on which he was accompanied by Harry Potter. At the close of the meeting, the two wizards found themselves alone in the lift as they returned to the atrium.

"Well, I'll have to admit, I wondered if you could pull it off, Malfoy."

"I wasn't sure that I could. Of course, this was actually the easy part. Now we need people."

"We'll get them," Harry assured him.

"Do you think?"

"I say we start with the people we know. They'll be the easiest to convince, and you already know whether they're up to the job," Harry suggested. "The second phase, is it underway?"

"You should see it, Harry. It's perfect!"