Harry did not sleep that night. Instead, he flooed Sirius and explained the situation to him. Sirius Black, as one of the men that had raised him ever since that fateful Halloween night, knew when Harry called about serious issues and upon hearing exactly what had been inflicted upon the Greengrass sisters, his features darkened to such an extent that his visage in the fire became barely discernible.

"I'm coming through," was all Sirius said before Harry's personal floo lit up with a swell of green fire.

(It was in moments like this that Harry was very grateful for Severus's tampering with his fireplace. Usually, there was no direct connection to the Floo network outside of the Headmaster's office.)

Harry barely had the time to look surprised before Sirius strode out of the flames, across his room and sat down on his bed, face grim.

Harry, not about to question the uncharacteristic seriousness, took a seat beside him. "You know Snape will have your hide for this, right?" Harry asked him.

"No," Sirius countered, "He won't. He's fucked up. Whatever. Listen." He stared him right in the eyes and Harry knew something was up. "The things that that sack of shit Greengrass did to his daughters? It's a Black family thing."

Harry blinked. "A Black—What?"

Sirius nodded. "You didn't think Daphne's situation was unique, did you? This shit and these damn contracts happened in my family so often that they created those runes exactly for getting out of these situations."

Harry almost jumped to his feet. "So we know exactly how it works! Do you know what to do about it?"

Sirius laughed bitterly and unbuttoned his shirt. Harry feared the worst and it was exactly what was delivered. Sirius turned his bare back to him and displayed a line of scars to Harry, all of them right down his spine from between his shoulder blades down to his hips.

Harry stared. He hadn't known. "Y—You… Your parents?"

"There are things that even you shouldn't have to know. My father was a bastard!" Sirius snarled. "Had three wives before he married my bitch of a mother and I was unfortunate enough to have been conceived just before the poor woman that had to be his third wife married him! Whoreson carved an infant open with wand and blade instead of just keeping it in his fucking pants!"

Sirius sprung up and began pacing through Harry's room, worrying knots into his beard.

"But the fucking contract!" he spat. "Gods, that fucking contract! Just like all the others! Regulus was lucky enough to be born after the contract with my father's third wife was terminated! Me? No!" He stopped and jabbed his finger at Harry with fury gleaming in his eyes. "I was just lucky enough to be born when I could have turned my father into a fucking vegetable! So what did they do? THIS!" he snarled, reaching around and clawing at the marks on his back.

"We have a name, you know?" he went on with this haunted look in his eyes. "Stargazers! That's what they called us! Children born outside of the holier than thou Black family traditions! You know of the naming traditions, right?"

Harry stared at Sirius, jaw tensed. "Named after constellations and stars."

"Exactly!" Sirius growled. "But we weren't actually Blacks like all the others! We were a shame! A stain! Our blood was Black, sure, but everyone knew we were born because some bastard fucked some whore outside of his marriage! We were outsiders! Just gazing at the stars of the oh so fucking perfect Black family! My mother hated me because I was twisted and bent out of shape to serve the contract my father had with some other woman! Half a year after I was born my father finally married my mother, not that anyone cared that he already fathered two children with her. I was born when I shouldn't have been. Marked me for it," he spat bitterly.

"You still have the marks," Harry uttered, eyes unfocused as he wondered how horribly scared Daphne must be.

"No," Sirius said, allowing himself to calm down. "No, those are just the scars. The marks disappeared the day my father died." He scoffed. "Bellatrix, dear murderous cousin of mine, shared my fate. Though as you might have noticed, she's not endured it as well as I have."

"She was marked too?" Harry asked weakly. "Merlin's balls."

"Merlin's saggy balls!" Sirius hissed, throwing himself onto Harry's bed.

They were silent for a long moment. Sirius stared at the ceiling, eyes haunted, and Harry worried his fingers, face grim.

"So… you know what we can do about it?" Harry dared to ask.

"The girly didn't tell you about the options?" Sirius asked tiredly.

Harry sighed. "She said that either her father releases her by granting her a legitimate position in the contract or the contract gets dissolved altogether."

Sirius raised his eyes. "And that's all there is to it," he said. "You cannot get rid of the marks. They will always be there."

"But yours—"

"Mine are faded, not gone, because my father is dead, Harry," Sirius said. "That's the truth of it. As long as the contract exists, she will be bound to it. Should the contract persist and her position ceases to be in line with the contract despite her still being bound, she will die a horrible death or worse. As will her sister. It has happened too many times before."

"That!—" Harry began but he couldn't find the words. He sank onto his bed and glared at the ceiling. "Fuck!" he spat.

"You got it," Sirius grunted grimly.

"So she has no way out!?" Harry groaned, angrily rubbing at his forehead.

"If she can convince her father to adjust the contract, she will be fine because the contract wouldn't hold onto her anymore."

"So… if we convince her father to amend the contract, she will be fine?" Harry asked, hopeful. But he remembered. Daphne had said he wouldn't. Not for her, at least.

Sirius shrugged. "Sure, yes. If he does it, that is. I don't know anything about the man but he used this fucking bullshit"—He snarled suddenly, teeth bared in hate—"magic on his own daughter! Years later he did it again! I wouldn't trust the man to have the courtesy to fucking die if the time comes!"

Harry exhaled roughly. "From what I've heard he's a bastard. Doesn't even care enough."

Sirius sat up and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "It won't be easy even if you try, Harry. But fuck me if I won't help you."

Harry sat up as well. His eyes found the marks on Sirius' back and he scowled. "I don't know her as well as I'd like to but I know enough to want to help her."

Sirius scoffed. "You don't need to know anyone to help them get out of something like that, Harry."

Harry nodded. Yeah, that was true.

"You should talk to her about it. Don't feel like this is my secret or something," Sirius said, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Yeah," Harry agreed quietly.

"Try to sleep."

Harry merely grunted in response.

After Sirius vanished in a flash of green fire, Harry let himself fall back into the pillows. He stared at the ceiling and frowned. He'd never liked feeling powerless. It was the same it had been with Malfoy all over again.

Either stand by and watch or raise your wand and do something about it.

The first thing Harry saw that morning after sluggishly getting up and stumbling into the shower—adjacent to his own room, thankfully—was Daphne. His hair hadn't quite dried yet when he poked his head out of the room at the exact same time as Daphne, who compared to him looked absolutely flawless. While Harry had barely found his way into his uniform and was yet drying his hair with a towel, Daphne was dressed to impress. And she did so expertly with only her school uniform.

She graced him with a smile and Harry almost dropped his towel.

"Good morning, Harry," she said, reaching up to tie her hair back.

Harry's mouth felt awfully dry, the picture she gave in the morning light was mesmerizing. "Morning," he managed, the dryness of his throat audible in his feeble greeting.

Daphne smiled ever more beautifully. "Did you rest well?"

"Uhm, yeah," he said. This was a new sort of conversation. "And, uh, you?"

She strode over to the cupboard where she kept her bookbag among other things, opened a drawer and pulled a small mirror from within. Her eyes found him through the reflection.

"Thoughts of you kept me awake longer than I had anticipated," she said ever so casually as she applied some lipstick, "Last night was wonderful, I must thank you again."

Harry's mind stuttered. She had anticipated what?

She took his silence as some sort of answer. Daphne smiled at him over her shoulder. "What, did you not dream of me, Harry?"

He shook it off. "I'm sure I would have," he admitted sheepishly. "But I found myself distracted. I spoke with my godfather last night."

Daphne turned and he noted that she had applied dark lipstick. "He… My godfather, he raised me. He also happens to bear the same marks as you and Astoria."

The smile slipped off Daphne's painted lips. "He does?"

"They are only scars now," Harry sighed.

Harry relayed Sirius' story to Daphne. With her face firmly held in a frown, she listened without a sound.

"So he was kind of lucky," Harry finished, frowning.

"No one who has to bear the marks is ever lucky, Harry," Daphne uttered, her face blank.

Harry grimaced. "Of course, my apologies. But—Know that if your father ever invites me to Greengrass manor, I will go. If it helps you, I will."

Daphne shook her head, shouldered her bookbag and crossed the suite. Harry stood rooted in front of his door and moved not a single muscle as Daphne reached up and pushed a few strands of hairs out of his face. Then she smiled, her hand cupping his face, and stood on her tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, a hair's breadth from his lips. "I appreciate that."

He hesitated for a moment, fingers twitching, before placing his hands on her side, holding her loosely. Daphne eased herself into his grasp, leaning closer.

"I was being serious," he told her. "Yesterday, I mean."

"With what?" Daphne inquired, leaning against his chest. Harry offered her the comfort she sought.

"I wish to get to know you," he said quietly. "Though I feel like somehow I already know a lot."

"You do," she agreed, laughing softly as though the idea amused her. "There are so few who would know of mine and my sister's plight. And I'm glad that you do."

"I'm… sorry I forced my way into this," he admitted, "but I won't ignore it now that I have."

Daphne stepped away and he immediately missed her warmth. "I didn't think you would. Though I had, childishly, sought to anger my father through you, I knew that you are a noble soul ever since you saved my sister from the madness of Lucius Malfoy."

Harry offered a wry smile. "I'd not call that noble of all things…"

Daphne took his hand and pulled him along as she headed for the door. "That's why it's noble, Harry," she said, smiling.

Harry barely managed to discard his towel before Daphne, high in spirit, dragged him out the door.

Most of the Sunday Morning, Harry spent in the company of Daphne. The fact that they arrived together in the hall didn't garner as much attention as Harry had anticipated but that was mostly owed to the fact that they were rather early and not a lot of students were up yet.

Daphne, seemingly not one to care for anyone's gaze focused on them at the moment, kissed his cheek before departing for her House table. There she sat down next to who Harry assumed to be her little sister at the very end of the table.

After a too-long moment of stupidly staring after Daphne—he could tell how red her ears were—and the feeling of her lips still hot on his skin, Harry managed to make his way over to the mostly empty Ravenclaw table.

"Hell's Bells, Harry! What was that!?"

Harry waved Terry off and took a seat between him and Padma, who was staring questioningly at him. Across the table, Su stared at him expectantly as well.

He sighed. "Fine. Daphne and I went to Slughorn's little party yesterday. Though I don't get why you would be surprised to see us arrive together. We share the suite on the third floor as Head Boy and Head Girl so I don't—"

"She kissed your cheek," Terry threw in, almost accusingly.

Harry shifted in his seat. "She did."

Su leaned onto the table. "Why?" she asked, smirking devilishly.

"Obviously," Padma chimed, "because they are in a courtship. He's even done it the traditional way."

Harry almost grimaced. He'd know to mind his words better when in the company of a woman in the future. Or anyone, for that matter.

"We all read the Prophet," Terry dismissed, "But we also all know how much rubbish they tend to write about Harry. Knowing him, he might have just fucked it up."

"Language," Lisa scolded as she arrived at the table, "But no less true. Harry has always been awful with proper social norms."

"Oi…" Harry grumbled under his breath, "I'm right here."

Padma patted his arm in a somewhat consoling manner. "Oh, we know, we know."

For the rest of breakfast, Harry managed to mostly avoid answering what kind of relationship there was between him and Daphne (mostly because he wasn't that sure himself though certainly nothing "casual").

Shortly before he was about to leave, however, Ginny came up to the table.

Ashamed, Harry had to admit that he'd utterly forgotten about her.

"Ginny, hey!" He used the chance to escape Padma's knowing looks and Terry's grumbling. "Missed you at the celebration yesterday!"

Ginny, who hadn't managed a greeting yet, defaulted into an adorable blush. "Oh, uh, yeah! I, uh, kinda forgot all about that! I was kind of busy with homework last night so I could, you know, do other stuff today!"

Harry made to get off the bench but Padma caught his sleeve and pulled him over.

"Don't be a prat and lead her on," she whispered. "Ron might seriously punt you."

Momentarily at a loss for words, Harry took a long second to respond with a nod and "Uh, yeah, sure." To Ginny, he said, "Did you actually finish your homework or do you need some help?"

She huffed some sort of embarrassed laugh. "It, uh, would help?" she offered sheepishly.

Harry laughed and ruffled Ginny's hair over it. "Figured as much. I need to fetch a few books from the library anyways."

He chanced a glance in Daphne's direction and saw her whisper something to her sister. He hoped she would see him leave but she seemed to be engrossed in the conversation with her sister.

Ginny was ahead of him, a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. It lightened his heart, heavy with all the things that were going on, but it was an odd sort of comfort. In fact, it felt more uncomfortable than anything else.

Like a distraction.

Frowning, he pushed the thought aside.

Ginny had an obvious crush on him. Harry thought his own affections for her must have… ended at some point last year. Or at least started to fall apart. He should have realized it sooner.

The lightheartedness that Ginny exuded so naturally became almost unbearable after Harry had encountered Thorfinn Rowle last year in Diagon Alley. The man had, like so many other marked Death Eaters, been driven mad by the mark on his arm. Severus—who had been forced to burn the mark out of his arm with fiendfyre—had explained to Harry that without its master, the mark was but a rampant curse, assaulting the minds of the bearers. Rowle—whoreson that he was, Harry thought bitterly—had tried to take hostage not only Sirius but also Molly Weasley, who had been present at the time.

That day, Harry had scarcely escaped death.

(He remembered it all too well. Sirius, writhing on the cobblestone in the middle of Diagon Alley and Molly Weasley, suspended midair and bleeding from a wound on her temple. In the next moment, a cutting hex clipped his shoulder. Had it not been for Severus pushing him aside, Harry would have lost his head that day.)

"Harry?"

Ginny appeared in front of him and the memory vanished. He reached for his shoulder, rubbing at the scar that marked his brief encounter with Rowle, who had Aparated away after his one attempt failed.

He cleared his throat. "Uhm, yeah. Let's go."

The concern in her face dispersed and she smiled. "Let's!"

It would have been a lie if Harry had to claim that finding Hermione in the library was a surprise. She always seemed to be here if she wasn't working on her own duties as an assistant teacher in Charms. There were more students pursuing a mastery at Hogwarts this year than ever before. Aside from him, there was Daphne in potions, Neville in Herbology and Hermione, again, in Runes. And, if Harry remembered it correctly, Pansy Parkinson was pursuing hers in Arithmancy.

"Hermione," he acknowledged as he took a seat next to her at one of the tables.

"Harry," she returned, not looking up from whatever she was scratching onto her parchment. "Have you figured out what to do about Daphne being your girlfriend yet?"

Across the table, just about to take a seat, Ginny froze mid-motion. "What?"

Startled, Hermione looked up. Eyes wide, all she managed was a muted "Oh."

Harry felt his face twitch. This was not how he wanted to do this. "Yesterday's Eclipse celebration," he said, trying not to look especially pained. "I went with Daphne, Head Girl in our year. We kind of, uh, hit off pretty well…?"

Ginny's eyes darted from him to Hermione a few times before she sat down in her chair, heavily and devoid of the exuberance she had displayed coming here.

"Oh," she made. "Uhm, I guess, uh… I mean, you… uh…"

"It's generally tradition for Head Boy and Head Girl to attend something like that together," Hermione threw in.

Harry, in the first instance, felt like agreeing. But… that would be lying. "I didn't really know that," he said. "Daphne asked me last Thursday."

Hermione shot him a look, probably because she had expected him to be a little more sensible. He merely managed an apologetic shrug.

Ginny blinked rapidly at them, clearly surprised. Her naivety was to be expected. She managed to clear her throat after a moment and offered an obviously brittle smile. "And, uh, how was it?"

Harry, knowing that the rumour mill would eventually catch her up on it anyways, decided to just tell her.

"It was great, we're meeting again today," he said, offering a smile. "Also, Ron managed to stay mostly sober."

"Yeah, he be like that sometimes," Ginny laughed uneasily, immediately latching onto the mention of her brother. "Uh, yes, I—I have to, you know!" She stood, fumbling with her bookbag. "Have to, uh, practice and such!"

She made to leave but Harry caught her arm across the table. "Ginny," he said. "I'll see you around when you've…" He fumbled with the words but Ginny seemed to catch his meaning.

"I'm— Yes, uhm, Sorry for uh…"

"Don't be," he said, shaking his head. "Be angry if you want. But do try and take it out on me, if you can."

She stepped back and Harry let go of her arm. "I… need some—some time, please?"

Harry nodded. His stomach felt leaden. "See you, Ginny."

Hurriedly, Ginny fled from the library.

Seconds later, Hermine slapped his side with a thick roll of parchment. "You cad!" she accused. "That was awful!"

Harry let himself drop back into the chair. "Gods, I know! I'm not—not used to something like that!"

"You had a girlfriend before!" Hermione hissed. "And there was no—"

"No," he cut in, "No, I had a barely not confusing sexual encounter with a seventeen-year-old girl over summer Holidays! That's very different!"

Hermione threw up her hands. "Black made you a fiend!"

Harry chose not to mention that it had been Severus who encouraged him to mingle with the non-magical population of Greece and that it had also been Severus who had been kind enough not to mention that he had found Harry and Maria—a dark-haired girl with a charming smile—still somewhat tangled under the sheets and not exactly sober.

(Sirius found out later and was mighty put off about it but also incredibly proud.)

"How would you have done it?" Harry huffed, running a hand through his hair.

Hermione opened her mouth only to close it again. It was almost amusing that she couldn't throw some facts at him because it was unlikely she would have found anything on relationship advice in this library.

"I just wanted her to… to hear it from me, you know?" Harry sighed. "If she didn't read the Prophet, she'll hear it from the gossip mongers."

"So… are you and Daphne in a relationship?" Hermione hedged.

Harry nodded slowly. "I… I would say so. It's not like I've asked her to be my girlfriend."

"You announced it to the entirety of Magical Britain on Friday, Harry."

He shook his head. "She figured I kind of messed that up."

Hermione huffed. "I hope she took you down a peg, you cad."

She actually kind of kissed him, now that he thought about it. Not that he was about to tell Hermione that.

"Will Ginny be okay?" he wondered, fiddling with his sleeves.

"I don't know," Hermione offered.

"Should I… Should I try and talk to her?"

Hermione loudly closed a book—a book so thick that the entire table jumped upon closing. "Honestly, I have no clue."

Harry snorted. "Thanks, me too."

Hermione cast a featherlight charm onto the tome in front of her—Gods, Harry thought it must've outweighed some of the First Years here—and shouldered the entire thing. "You shouldn't avoid her but… don't try and chase after her to apologize."

He smiled weakly at her from his chair. "I'll try."

On her way out of the library, her notes floating after her, Hermione called over her shoulder. "Oh! And try not to let Ron kill you!"

Harry groaned. "Sod off!"

Harry later ran into Daphne on his way back to the Ravenclaw common room—for despite residing in the shared suite with Daphne, he still visited his house ever so often to meet Professor Flitwick for one reason or another or help the younger students with studies and such. He was Head Boy after all.

He encountered Daphne presumably as she was about to descend to the dungeons, her book bag slung over her shoulder and a letter in her hands. She must have come from the owlery.

She was so engrossed in the letter that she didn't notice Harry until she ran right into him.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, still not looking up, "Excuse me, I—"

Harry grasped her shoulders. She seemed distressed and Harry figured it would be futile to hope that this letter had nothing to do with her father. "Daphne," he said to get her attention. "It's me."

She looked up, startled, and after recognizing him, threw herself around his neck in a bruising hug. With her face buried on his neck, Daphne let her book bag drop to the ground and simply squeezed him tight.

The few students that were milling about in the hallway snickered.

Harry sent the two Ravenclaws he recognized a glare that didn't seem to have much of an effect with Daphne hanging onto him. They still scrammed, thankfully.

"Are you alright?" he asked Daphne, allowing himself to envelope her with his arms.

She shook her head. "No," she whispered. "My father has informed me that he's out of the country for a few days and that he wishes to see you upon his return."

Harry's heartbeat picked up speed. "That—That's not a lot of time?"

"Scarcely a week, maybe two," Daphne lamented.

This… sucked. They hadn't even the slightest clue how to go about forging this relationship with her father.

He licked his lips. "Don't worry," he told her. "We'll figure this out."

Daphne relaxed her hold on him and took a step back to meet his eyes. "I worry for you, Harry," she said. "I fear what he might do to you."

That she worried about anything aside from her and her sister's life bespoke volumes of her character. If anything, the fact would only ever drive him further.

"Don't," he chided gently. "I've had people after my life. If your father is out for money and influence, he wouldn't be the first, either. Draco's father attempted to claim custody of me through the Black name. And Sirius told me that through an obscure relation between him and the Nott Family, Nott Senior tried to challenge Sirius's guardianship. I've been dodging these sorts of things for all the time I can remember."

"My father doesn't want anything so simple as killing you, Harry," Daphne sighed.

"That just means my chances of surviving are substantially higher than they would usually be," he joked.

Daphne laughed weakly. She raised the letter that was crumpled in their fist between them and incinerated it. "I never wished for anyone to be caught in the crossfire," she lamented, dispersing the ashes with grim satisfaction.

"I would have annoyed Severus to the point where he would have told me regardless. You are rather horrible at hiding stuff, you know?"

Daphne slapped his arm. "I am not! You are just so—so… loveable that I can't help but open my all to you."

Heat rose to Harry's cheeks. "Loveable, eh?" he joked.

Daphne glared mildly at him. "Yes," she affirmed even though her face reddened as well. "I'd like to think so."

He smiled down at her and for a few peaceful moments, they were lost in the other's eyes.

"We should discuss this with Sirius," Harry said eventually. And probably Severus, too, but Harry had seen him extinguish fires from failed curses earlier so that could probably wait until his robes weren't on fire.

Daphne blinked—as though she had been startled out of a trance—and briefly glanced away. Her ears darkened a shade or two and Harry barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch them.

"Let's," she agreed.

"We'll floo him from my room," Harry told her and reached for her hand. Daphne met him halfway. "I doubt he has the two-way mirror on him anyway."

"You have a two-way mirror?" Daphne asked, astonished.

Harry grinned at her. "Let me tell you the story of a few crazy friends, a werewolf with a sweet tooth and a man with a crush so monumental, he once shaved his own head bald to prove as much."

Sirius fell through the floo the moment Harry opened the connection. Face first he impacted with the carpet and remained unmoving for a long moment.

"Hello Sirius," Harry quipped, somewhat amused.

Sirius groaned. "I swear, this doesn't usually happen to me."

Harry thought he was addressing Daphne because Harry knew all too well that, yes, it did happen ever so often.

"I'm sure, Lord Black," Daphne agreed easily. "I am ever so pleased to meet you."

"I would say the same but my face hurts and my pride is forever wounded," Sirius lamented from the carpet. "Just leave me here, I can't face the world anymore."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Get up you dog," he huffed, tapping Sirius's head with the top of his foot. "Or do I have to tell Daphne about that one time you got so drunk you and Severus almost—"

Sirius exploded to his feet as though he had never fallen in the first place. "Sirius Black," he introduced himself to Daphne, smiling nervously. "Charmed, I'm sure!" He glared at Harry after the fact.

"Very much so," Daphne returned, laughing softly.

And then there was the awkward moment of silence. "Uh, yes," Harry cleared his throat. "Daphne got a letter from her father. He'll probably invite me a lot sooner than expected."

Sirius nodded, face falling to a frown. "I see. But with the time limit you have, that's for the best, isn't it?"

Daphne nodded. "It would be but it's hard to make out why my father would want to meet Harry in the first place. I had originally believed he would be… annoyed but not much else."

One brow raised in question, Sirius glanced from Harry to Daphne. "Child," he addressed Daphne, "Why would your father not use this opportunity? Harry possesses a lot of money. If your father knows as much, it's likely he'll try to get some out of it."

"My father doesn't lack money, I assure you," Daphne said. She blindly reached for Harry's hand and squeezed it tightly. If Sirius saw as much, he did not react. "He is one of the richest men in all of England, second only to the Malfoy fortune. He doesn't want for money, nor has he ever cared for what I did as long as it didn't put him in a bad light."

"And your relationship with Harry caught his attention in spite?" Sirius wondered.

"Perhaps he's just out to be cruel," Harry spat. His hate for the man was growing by the minute.

Daphne glanced at him, smiling sadly. "I… would not put it past him."

Sirius growled to himself. "Fucking bastard, using those marks," he hissed, fury evident in his eyes.

"Harry has offered to maybe convince my father to release me and my sister from this position," Daphne hedged. "But I highly doubt he would agree to any deal of sorts that isn't heavily stacked in his favour."

"We would do it," Sirius said immediately. "If the way out of this is millions of Galleons, we do it. We don't want for it and earn enough through investments to survive even after spending every single Knut in our vaults."

Daphne appeared taken aback. "You would waste all of your—"

"This is not wasting," Sirius cut in, "when it comes to getting someone out of those marks. If we have to buy you like cattle, so be it. Whatever the price. Though I would rather we didn't throw more money at that bastard."

Harry squeezed Daphne's hand. "We will get you out of this. Both you and your sister."

Daphne smiled at both of them. "I— Thank you. But… I would still doubt that my father cared for money."

Sirius nodded, deep in thought. "Then… meeting him as early as possible is your best bet. Greengrass is a politician, no? A man that likes to play his connections?"

Daphne nodded and waited for Sirius to continue.

"Then we offer him a connection," he went on. "Get in his good graces," he said, addressing Harry. "Become a friend, ally, whatever. If you can prove yourself to be valuable in his political sphere of influence, you can maybe make demands, ask for favours."

"Favours such as Daphne and her sister?" Harry asked.

Sirius nodded, grinning. "If he's as much of a bastard as I think he is, he won't bat an eye to sell off his daughters in order to get more out of you, Harry."

"He is as much of a bastard," Daphne agreed darkly.

"Then we do it," Harry agreed immediately. "The sooner we start the better."

"We still need some sort of strategy," Sirius injected. "Let's hear about your father's dealings."

Daphne nodded. "I don't know much, but I'll tell you all I can think of."

Daphne had only been able to reveal little to them. Her father had never cared to train her as the heiress to his name and as such, she was left largely unaware of her father's business. However, since Harry had not taken any public stances on any political matter and the only thing he had ever openly opposed were the ex-Death Eaters, Harry could simply pretend to be in favour of whatever Lord Greengrass was. They parted ways with Sirius promising to delve into the political spheres to see what he could find and Daphne left to see her sister.

Harry found himself in the library, nervously looking for anything that could help.

After about an hour of fruitlessly digging through Rune tomes and books on Magical Contracts, Harry decided that he was doing busywork Daphne would surely have done already. Instead, he went up to the Owlery and penned a letter to Sirius, informing him of his findings, however little he had actually found aside from this contract being highly illegal. The Blacks would know more on this than there was on the Hogwarts library and the notions of the contract being wholly illegal seemed like a feeble thing in face of those marks that bound the sisters. Harry doubted that Lord Greengrass care much for that anyways.

After seeing Hedwig off and offering a few more treats to the owl, Harry sought out Severus's office in the DADA classroom to apprise him of the situation.

(The one he occupied in the Dungeons as Head of Slytherin tended to be vacant on Sundays because so many Slytherins were milling about in the common room being nosey, or so Severus claimed.)

The office door opened for him before he could knock.

"Black told me you had a chat," Severus observed from behind a mountain of papers.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But aside from the fact that you somehow didn't mention this to him, I didn't learn much of anything new."

"He is sufficiently upset, I assure you, and did not say much beyond the fact that you talked in the first place," Severus drawled, sending a stack of papers into a drawer with a flick of his wand.

Harry sighed. "Lord Greengrass has already heard about me and Daphne."

"As much was expected," Severus acknowledged, still writing away at his papers. "He's most likely furious that—"

"Professor Slughorn mentioned that he was very pleased," Harry told him. "He expressed that he wished to meet me in a letter to Daphne today."

Severus's hand stilled. "He did?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Severus frowned. "That does not bode well."

"Figured as much," Harry scoffed. "Daphne can't fathom why he would be pleased, though, aside from the fact that he's a greedy whoreson."

"Language, Harry," Severus sniffed. "Daphne's grandmother mustn't be insulted in such a way. She was a kind woman." He paused. "However, she is right. Lord Greengrass is a greedy creature and if he's pleased about your foolishly announced affection for Daphne, I fear he has something in mind."

"Daphne said she's running out of time," Harry said, frowning at the floor. "She wanted to—"

"I know," Severus cut in, "what she wanted to do, Harry." He rose from his desk, stalked over to the small window alcove. "I've been supplying Lady Greengrass with teas and potions for this and that little ailment. All of them have rendered her unable to be with child."

Harry gaped at him. "You—You made her infertile?"

Severus glared at him. "Temporarily," he muttered. "But at some point, she must have either stopped taking them in high enough doses or she has acquired some remedy that undid my work for long enough to become pregnant."

"Fuck," Harry uttered. Severus did not comment on his language this time.

"This is my fault," Severus spoke, glaring death at the lake down below. "Daphne and Astoria would have had all the time in the world if I had just rendered Lady Greengrass infertile indefinitely. I was too soft!" he spat.

Harry wished to argue but it would indeed have saved Daphne a whole lot of trouble. But Harry didn't know what kind of person Daphne's stepmother was and rendering someone infertile was a great offence in magic Britain, one punishable with the Dementor kiss.

"It is clear," Severus spoke after a calming breath, "that he doesn't want to meet you for his daughter's sake."

"And we plan on using that," Harry said grimly. "Whatever is necessary, we will get the sisters out of this."

A/N: Oh yes, it's all coming together now...

(I feel like I should point that out: Ginny won't turn into an antagonist. Sorry, Dorothea. She's gonna live.)

I have re-written the paragraph with Sirius explaining his father's shit to Harry at least four times and I hope it is somewhat clear.

Anyhow!

Up next: Astoira, fluff and floof!