A Fine Line

Lily Potter settled down in the Owl Cottage living room with a volume of Bathilda Bagshot and a pot of Sue's black tea for company. Harry pulled Iere's file of business correspondence across the kitchen table and commenced paging through. Everything went into one of three piles—Nott Hall, Gringotts statements and Other. Tax matters made up most of Other. Harry looked the taxes over with care. It appeared the goblins were on top of the taxes but it never hurt to double check, the Treasury being as it was.

"It all looks current," Harry said. "Did you have any questions?"

Iere did have questions, surprisingly good ones. Harry wasn't prepared for a fifteen-year-old asking about rates of return and leverage.

"If you're comfortable with a little more risk, I'd suggest you visit your account manager and tell him," Harry said. "Take Astoria along. Have a number in mind when you go. Ten percent of your cash, let's say. You can leave it to them or ask them to bring the proposal to you first, so you can talk it over and ask questions. Have you thought about building something to replace Nott Hall?"

"Nott Hall might rise from the ashes," said Iere.

The interiors were destroyed or damaged beyond salvage, Iere told Harry. The books in the library were packed very tightly, so the texts were in fair shape. The historically important books were with conservators, already undergoing restoration.

"The Nott grimoires were in the vault at Gringotts, or most were," said Iere. "We may find we have them all, that's still to be determined."

"Portraits?" Harry asked. Enchanted portraits were delicate and highly-valued, especially if one were an established counselor for the family.

"Two from the dining room, great-grands or maybe great-greats," said Iere. "The paint got hot and ran a bit. They seem to be fine. All the others burned up."

"You can look in the vault, when you get the chance," Harry said. "Ask your aunt if there are any Greengrass portraits that are excess to the family's needs. You're Iere Greengrass but the House of Nott has come down to you. In effect, you are the founder of a new house. A new Nott Hall will need some portraits."

Something about Harry's comment got to Iere and she started to laugh. Harry saw some movement in the living room and looked around the doorjamb.

"Lily!" he gasped.

Lily was standing up, next to Daphne's obsidian likeness, tissue in hand, wiping the statue's face.

Harry got up and crossed the kitchen, telling himself to slow down all the way. He had no idea how fragile the obsidian was and he didn't want to startle Lily, only to find out the hard way.

"What?" asked Lily.

She spoke over her shoulder, never taking her eyes from the obsidian.

"Yes, what?" asked Harry. "That could be very delicate, Lily. It was all in pieces at one time."

"She had a dusty face, and I'm being very careful. I think it was tickling her nose," said Lily.

She finished, folding the tissue into a small square. Iere was staring from the doorway.

"It's fine, really, Lily," she said. "You wanted Mum to be clean, I think? She would be very appreciative, wouldn't she?"

Harry and Iere had done their day's business. Iere put her business papers back in their folder, minus a significant number they'd identified for disposal during the meeting. Conversation moved on to more general topics.

"Would you rebuild Nott Hall?" Iere asked.

"If I had a use for it," said Harry. "Would you want to live there?"

"Not alone," she replied before going silent.

Harry thought Iere must have stumbled into an unexpected mental eddy.

"Owl Cottage will probably meet your requirements, for a few more years?" Harry asked.

"I, yes, that is…"

"It's fine, I know you and James click on some level," Harry said. "I wish you the best, although, statistically, considering your ages, there isn't any reason to think you will end up together. Have you discussed it with Astoria?"

"Oh, yes," said Iere. "I happen to disagree with your opinion, Mr. Potter."

"Harry," he said, "And I respect your views, honestly. Does any of this affect your thinking about Nott Hall."

"Of course," answered Iere. "Can I ask you something? What made you decide to work with your partners?"

"We met at Hogwarts," Harry said. "After the war I spent some time with Neville, calming down. He brought Blaise in. We all had been thinking along the same lines. We didn't want to go to work for the Ministry. None of us had the love for academics we'd need to study law or healing. One thing led to another."

"How old were you when you and Neville met?" Iere asked.

"Eleven, on my first trip on the Hogwarts Express," said Harry. "And I take your point."

Iere tried not to but her smile was more of a smirk.

Harry continued advising Iere, staying out of her decision-making as much as he could.

"I'm walking a fine line," he said, many times. "You're a head of house. I can define the decisions to be made, help you work through pros and cons but we're allies. Neither of us should be the other's puppet."

Working on specific projects was different. Harry helped with salvage at the wreck of Nott Hall. He found a warehouse near Diagon Alley for the salvageable items that had survived the fire. Draco knew the antiquarian conservators, elves, goblins and wizards, who worked on recovery projects. It wasn't inexpensive but Iere knew some of the damaged pieces were irreplaceable and she wanted those put right.

At the end of May, Harry and the Malfoys took Iere and Lily to meet the Hogwarts Express. James walked down the platform with Scorpius and Albus, broomstick over his shoulder. Harry was impressed. He had feared, after a year together at Hogwarts, James would find Albus akin to radioactive. Alternatively, Albus might have developed a permanent aversion to the big brother who had already done everything Albus might do in establishing himself. Harry had attended every Slytherin quidditch match, even sitting with Scorpius and Albus in the Slytherin section when Gryffindor wasn't playing.

"Uh," James said when the formal greetings were over. He pulled a package out from some pocket inside his robe and looked at Iere.

"James?" said Iere.

"Something for you," James managed. "From this year."

He held out the package as Iere puzzled over the cryptic explanation.

"Oh, James!" said Iere. She had opened the package enough to see what was inside.

Tearing the last paper off, she shook out a quidditch jersey and held it up for everyone to see.

"POTTER" she read. "And your number. Seven."

She wanted to give James a kiss and he wanted to kiss her back. Propriety prevailed, Iere leaning and wrapping one arm around James' shoulders, one of his arms circling back around her waist.

"You wore this in your games?" Iere asked.

James nodded, yes, he had. The dried sweat that defeated both laundry and freshening charms told her that. James' face lit up.

"Yep," he said. "Do you like it?"

"Of course! I can't wait to wear it," said Iere.

The uniform jersey was only part of it. The full exchange was the unspoken but very real expression of affection embedded in the way James looked at Iere and Iere looked back at James.

That summer seemed to James to pass in chopped-up bits. He kept his mind off Iere by keeping it on football. He and his teammates knew most of their opponents from previous years. James could spend several hours thinking about matches and plays from bygone seasons as he prepared for a day's match. When he wasn't playing, he could still train. Albus was a ready-made opponent. James was forced to negotiate, trading for equal time as keeper before their backyard goal so Albus could take his own shots. Harry forbade drafting Lily as permanent keeper.

The chopped-up part was the result of the times he saw Iere in between playing and training. James and Iere had always liked one another. Iere's empathic abilities gave James good feelings. Beyond those and a separate matter were the combination of looks and personality that made being in Iere's company so agreeable. James didn't know when he started to think about a life with Iere. By that summer he was very used to the idea. It seemed so logical. He debated with himself whether it would be appropriate to ask if Iere felt the same, or if it would be better to put that off for six months or another year.

Another complication emerged that summer. James celebrated his fourteenth birthday a few months before Iere turned sixteen. James began to experience some new and disturbing sensations when he was close to Iere. She felt James' discomfort. Iere went to Astoria for some counseling.

"I've begun to notice something different about James," Iere began.

Astoria finished pouring the tea, then set a cup and saucer in front of her niece.

"Uh-huh," said Astoria. She removed a package of vanilla wafers from the cupboard, put some on a small plate and put the plate between them.

"How different?"

"He has some powerful emotions inside," said Iere. "I get an image of a sauce pan full of boiling water. The cover is jumping up and down."

"That is the steam escaping," said Astoria. "It's not anything you are doing, Iere, but you are doing that to James. Let me explain."

Iere knew her wildlife, which meant she knew her biology. She observed mammals, birds, insects and reptiles. They all had some form of physical coupling that led to the formation of the next generation of the species. She hadn't thought of steam escaping and rattling the cover of the sauce pan when she watched the foxes courting. They spent more time prancing back and forth and sniffing one another than they did in physical contact.

"So young wizards go crazy at certain times?" asked Iere.

"Just the desperate ones, whom you probably wouldn't want anything to do with anyway," said Astoria. "Can you and James talk? About serious things? Some personalities find intimate discussions repellent. I don't know why. Most people have to talk about sensitive subjects at some point. You would think we could just tell the truth and use the most accurate terms and be attentive to one another. Your grandmother would go apoplectic. Daphne was such a blessing. She raised me as much as she did you. We had a number of long talks on this subject, over the years."

"Do you think I should bring it up or wait for James?" asked Iere.

"Oh, if you are feeling his distress, you could be doing James a real favor by just letting him know, very gently, that he can unburden himself. If he feels a need, of course."

"I think I understand," said Iere.

"Take it easy on the wizards," said Astoria's emotional state. "They have their uses but they are so tender inside."

Iere had James' and Albus' schedules on her kitchen calendar so she picked a Friday afternoon when they weren't playing and invited the Potters and Malfoys to Owl Cottage. She found that James could be easily cut from the herd by suggesting she needed an extra hand to gather the eggs.

"James," she said when they were out of earshot.

"There is something on your mind. There has been, all summer. Would you like to say something?"

"You'll laugh."

"I won't, James. It is important to you, something you feel deeply and don't understand. I won't laugh," she assured him.

James picked up the cup from the feed bin, filled it and put the feed in the feeders. The hens clucked their appreciation.

"The way I feel when I'm with you…" James tried. He stopped, fearful he had already gone too far.

"I know," said Iere.

"I know you do," said James. "You must be furious. Insulted."

"No," said Iere.

"Why not?" asked James, the flush creeping up across his cheeks. "I think about your face and your lips. How I felt when you put your arm around me there at the station."

"Because that is all part of how we are put together, to make sure each generation makes another one to take its place. It's the design. If you tried to kiss me and I didn't want to or you put your hand someplace and I didn't want that, that would be different," said Iere. "I don't get a sense that you want to do that."

"NO!" James protested. "I wondered, that is, well, do you think we can be more than friends? It's nice being this kind of friends. But it is just…friends."

"More than?" said Iere. "Say that again."

She tried to find the meaning in James word jumble but was unsuccessful.

"Can we be more than just this kind of friends? When we're older? More serious?"

"James," said Iere, her voice low, cautious. "Are you thinking about something permanent and formal?"

"Uh, yeah," James muttered, looking away, then back.

"Like marriage, is that what you're dancing around?"

"Yes. You and me."

"James," Iere said, opening her arms right there among the hens. James stepped closer and slid his arms around her waist.

"That's so sweet of you, but you know we both have so much more to do before that could happen," Iere said. She wrapped her arms tighter. "You have goals you want to achieve and you could change, lots. We will have all kinds of things to talk through. You do know that, don't you? I really want to hear you say you know, and you understand."

"I know," James admitted. "The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I didn't want to put it in a letter."

"Fine," said Iere. "Thanks for not sending it by owl post. This is much better. You achieve your majority in three years. I promise I will remember this conversation and we will take it up then."

"Are you going to tell me what you've been thinking? About us? And all of that other stuff?" James asked.

Iere chuckled, deep down in her throat.

"James," she said, looking into his eyes.

"There isn't anyone else knocking on my door, nor do I think there will be. Does that put your mind at rest, just a little bit?"

"I guess," said James. "It will have to, won't it? Now we feed the ducks, right?"

After they'd tended to the ducks and all the accommodations were checked and made tight against the fox and stoat neighbors, they returned to the kitchen. The Potters and Malfoys milled about, ready to leave but delayed by Iere and James talking through their personal business. Iere put her fresh eggs in a large bandana and tied it up for the journey back to the suburbs.

"For breakfast," she said, handing the bundle to James. "Be careful in the floo."

James and Iere had leave their discussions of futures and plans where they had concluded in the hen house. There wasn't a lot of opportunity for anything else. James had to return to Hogwarts for another year. His majority was still three years away. He was saved from despair, as so many young people have been, by throwing himself into the wholesome and distracting life of a disciplined athlete.

James avoided discussions of girlfriends and witch-wizard relations. That was no easy feat in the Slytherin wizards' dorm. Albus and Scorpius had been sorted into Slytherin so James took them under his wing. It required some diplomacy. James found the library better for serious study than the Slytherin common room. When Albus had some difficulty getting his homework complete ahead of class, James convinced him to come to the library so they could work together. Scorpius came along with Albus.

James found a quiet corner, looked at one current assignment, condensed the requirements to three main points and turned Albus loose. It worked. Albus dealt with the points James identified, wrote a few lines defining the question and outlining his solution for each and soon had a finished essay. The paper came back with a grade of Outstanding.

"That was easy," Albus said to James, the first time they worked together.

"It is easy," James replied, "But only if you are organized. Understand the assignment and the essays write themselves. Well, if you're a competent writer, that is. You're a competent writer, for your age. Just take the time to figure out what the professor's question is and you'll be half done before you start."

James' fourth year settled into a routine that became a pattern by the arrival of spring. He needed about three hours in the library each evening, for his own homework and mentoring Scorpius and Albus. Quidditch practice took about ninety minutes. Free periods during the day were for homework or review. He wrote home weekly. He wrote to Iere three times each week.

Their conversation had done wonders for James' state of mind. He would have liked to see her more. His body tormented him if he let his mind drift to Iere, the sound of her voice, the movement of her lips when she spoke, the angelic beauty of Iere in summer clothes. He was disciplined, though, and learned to bring himself back to the present, where he could identify a better use for his time.

One of the best uses of James' time, for the purpose of not dwelling on Iere and the plans they could not yet begin making, was athletics. James put himself through all kinds of conditioning drills daily. His athleticism surpassed most of the quidditch players at Hogwarts. It was widely assumed James would be named Slytherin's quidditch captain the following year, James' fifth.

Iere continued to consult with Harry on business matters. She didn't pry but she was curious and had an analytical mind. During her formative years, Iere's world consisted of her mother, Owl Cottage and Jasper Farm. After the fatal visit at Nott Hall, Iere's physical world shrank some more, consisting mostly of Owl Cottage. Astoria and Iere traded sleepovers until Iere convinced her aunt that she was capable of getting through the nights on her own. Without giving her any prior notice, Iere's world had begun to expand in an unanticipated direction.

She had to make some decisions about Nott family matters, which led to consulting with Astoria, then Harry Potter, which progressed to picking up little bits about Harry's business arrangements and partners.

Iere knew Harry wasn't only a part-time cab driver. Slowly, over a period of years, she developed a mental picture of the size and reach of Harry, Neville and Blaise' enterprise. On Harry's advice, Iere had put a little cash in the goblins' hands so she could participate in some more speculative ventures. Gringotts had done well with the money. Iere liked the idea of making a bit more so she raised it with Harry.

"Remember what I said about a fine line? I can't do this alone. My partners have to be on board. Otherwise, I lose one sickel of your money and I'm open to charges of malfeasance. Understand? People snort at ethics but they are what keep us out of trouble. It's better to stay out of trouble than to have to get out of trouble."

Iere agreed with Harry and wasn't at all intimidated by the prospect of meeting with his partners. Neville and Blaise were just as proud of what they had built as Harry was. They were equally reticent to call attention to themselves. All three of them liked being able to walk down a London street without reporters or aspiring retainers attaching themselves. Iere's consultations were mostly conversations, with her mentors asking questions about what she liked and how she spent her time. Once or twice Neville or Blaise passed on a tip about an opportunity they had heard about, something that looked like it had growth potential.

Gradually, Iere began to grasp the scope of Harry, Neville and Blaise' business. Iere, non-magical daughter of Daphne, grew up knowing about Greengrass Manor, Owl Cottage and her grandmother's dowry. She knew Draco and Astoria's place, Jasper Farm, was a dependency of the Malfoy Manor.

Iere watched whatever was going on around her. She read widely, not just magical texts but muggle publications. If she couldn't do magic, she might have to find an occupation in the muggle world, Daphne told her. Besides, nothing you learn is ever wasted.

All of which is to say that Iere came to a realization that her grandfather could not be earning enough to account for the cost of operating Greengrass Manor and the maintenance of his wife and himself. That meant someone had piled up surpluses before she had come on the scene.

"I'm going to do that," Iere said to herself. "If they can do it, so can I. It can't be that hard."

If she couldn't do magic, Iere resolved to do business.