Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in the large office while contemplating the dilemma he'd found himself in. Across from him sat his former classmate, Daphne Greengrass who had her fingers interlaced with her chin rested atop as she waited for his reply.
He'd found Mundungus having been told that he had stolen the locket from Grimmauld place only to find out that it had already been sold to Greengrass in the previous months. After tracking her down and infiltrating Greengrass Manor, they were surprised to find themselves welcomed by a House Elf and taken into the banquet room to be fed and were given their own rooms to rest and clean up. It was a welcome to the trio who had been forced into living in unbearable conditions with little more than scraps to eat and a hard floor to sleep on.
She had provided them with potions to help them recover from the various injuries and parasites that afflicted them as well as giving them fresh clothing and supplies for when they would leave. When Harry had tried to probe her about the locket, she had just given him a knowing smile.
"I know why you're here," Daphne said shrewdly. "We'll discuss it later, all in good time."
Now he sat there contemplating the ultimatum that was presented before him and he was genuinely surprised and confused as to what she was asking for in return.
"A betrothal contract? With you?" Harry asked confusedly as if she was speaking a foreign language and hadn't heard her correctly.
"Yes," Daphne replied promptly.
"Why would you want to be married to me? We hadn't even known each other until we broke into your manor."
Daphne stood and glided slowly around the large office table from where she was seated across. She ran her fingers along the wood as she walked and the room was so silent that Harry could hear her nails scraping lightly as she moved.
"To ensure the protection of my family," She explained simply. "If you sign the betrothal contract and you win, my sister and I will be protected from the Ministry and any negative repercussions that can come from the new regime. If you lose then the contract would be voided and we will be safe under the protection of the Dark Lord. By all accounts, we will be safe regardless of the outcome of the war."
"But why does it have to be a betrothal contract?" Harry frowned. "Why can't I just give you my word that when we win that I will vouch for you and how you assisted in the war effort?"
"Who's to say how the war will unfold?" Daphne rebuked. "There's always the possibility that your side could win the war even after your demise. At the very least in that situation I can show the contract as proof that we were betrothed. In that event, at least I have some proof that I would have been under your protection."
"Typical pureblood bullshit," Harry spat. Daphne said nothing but raised one eyebrow and waited for him to continue.
"There's a war out there, people are dying. Innocents being slaughtered by the hundred because of nothing but their blood status and all you do is find a way to save your own skin. You people disgust me."
"You can be disgusted by me all you want," Daphne rebuffed sitting back down in her chair. "My responsibility is to my sister and myself nothing more. You have chosen to fight and I have chosen to survive. You can sit and judge me as much as you want but at the end of the day I will ensure that my only family is safe. I would have thought you of all people would understand that."
"Shows how much you know about me," Harry hissed. "While my friends and family have died and are dying to fight for what is right you sit there blocking us from victory with this stupid political ultimatum."
"And so what if I am!" Daphne slammed her open hands on the table. She pointed her finger directly between his eyes practically hissing with anger. "If you had one card to play to protect the only family that you have left, would you use it or would you throw it away for nothing?"
Harry went quiet as he thought about that. He would have given anything to save Sirius, to have him there with him right then. If he was faced with the choice of giving up the prophecy to Voldemort in exchange for his godfathers' life, he was not sure if he would be able to say no even if it meant turning the tide of the war in Voldemort's favour.
Daphne sighed and rubbed at her temples as she felt the beginning of a headache forming. She didn't mean to lose her temper but she had. As much as she wanted to lash out and force him to do what she wanted she knew she had to be calm to convince him. Daphne could just hand the locket to the Dark Lord and ensure his victory now that Harry had essentially confirmed that it was an important part of the battle. When she had bought it from Dung, she had simply recognised it as an old Hogwarts heirloom and recognised the value of something so historical. But when the wards notified her of the trio's break in, she offered them succour and gathered information from their hushed conversations through the listening wards.
She still didn't know exactly why the Locket was so important, but realised that it was and decided to use it as a bargaining chip to buy the surety of her safety. Despite what anyone would think, she was hoping that Harry would win knowing what kind of nightmare awaited if Voldemort had won. But she wasn't about to risk her sister in order to wantonly throw her support to a side that could very well lose.
Harry's mind on the other hand was racing. Compared to other outcomes this choice was relatively painless. He didn't have to kill or hurt anyone to get what he needed and at the worst he would have to deal with a loveless marriage. Things didn't go the way Harry had planned no matter what he wanted so why would this be any different.
'Besides, you know you're not going to be alive to see life after the war.' A voice said in his mind. He remembered Snape's memory of what Dumbledore had told him about what he needed to do in order to put a stop the Voldemort's immortality.
"Very well," Harry finally said. "Where is the contract?"
Daphne's eyes widened in surprise. She had thought he would refuse, possibly even leave and come back begging to do whatever it took to get the locket. His sudden change in demeanour made Daphne's eyes narrow in suspicion.
"Just like that?" Daphne replied in surprise. "Don't think that you will get out of this once you sign, I've made sure the contract is iron clad."
"I'm sure that you have." Harry said simply.
"I haven't even shown you the locket. For all you know I could have already be rid of it and you would have signed for nothing," Daphne mused still in shock. She was so surprised that he had given in so easily so soon after being outraged at the prospect that she tried to find his angle on how he was trying to trick her.
"If you didn't have the locket, you wouldn't have even asked that to give me the idea," Harry replied quickly waving his hand in dismissal. "If you get the signature and then double cross us, I'll get the information out of you and find the locket from there. I doubt that you have it lying around in your desk and I also doubt it's even here. You've probably hidden it for safe keeping until you got what you wanted out of me."
"Besides, I've been on the run for too long and I'm tired. If this is what it takes to move things along then so be it." He finished tiredly. He was sick of being on the run, sick of wondering if his friends were safe or even alive. He just wanted all of this to over with and he just wanted it to end, all of this was just exhausting.
Daphne simply observed him. She couldn't tell if he was just putting on a show to trick her but she quickly brushed that thought to the side. This was Harry Potter, he didn't have a manipulative bone in his body. He was the embodiment of the typical Gryffindor, honour bound and blindly throwing himself in front of any obstacle with little to now thought for self-preservation. She decided to take him at his own word, daintily holding out a blood quill as she pushed the papers in front of him.
Harry sighed and looked for the line that he had to sign on without reading the contract. Daphne wanted to facepalm when she saw that, she had made the contract thinking he would read it and rebuff clauses within and decided to write it in his favour in the interest of saving time not thinking he would give in so easily. If she suddenly tried to stop him to change the contract, he would be suspicious and everything to this point could be for nothing.
Once she saw the signature, she waved her wand over the contract muttering under her breath and the pages glowed a pale yellow before fading away. After calling to a house elf who levitated the locket in front of Harry, she watched as he shrugged out of the jacket the she had given to him and wrap it around the trinket. He walked out of her office without so much as a thank you for her hospitality or even a backward glance.
Harry stared blankly at the ceiling of the hospital wing paying little attention what was going on around him. It was over, they had won.
It was hard fought with everyone playing a role to ensure their victory but the cost was great. During the battle many had fallen on both sides, so many people that he had spent years alongside learning at Hogwarts was now dead most of them buried in the past weeks after the battle. He had been taken to the Hospital Wing for treatment immediately following the battle and kept for observation while healers had routinely come in and out to check on him many of them baffled at the fact that he had survived. He didn't tell any of them that he actually in fact died and come back. While he had been in the hospital wing, he had heard many hushed conversations around him and tried to tune them out. Just yesterday he had eavesdropped on a hushed conversation between the angry Headmistress' and the active minister of magic.
"Are you so heartless?" McGonagall hissed angrily. "The boy has been on the run for more than a year, he's been fighting and battling through unbelievable circumstances. The boy is broken, he hasn't spoken to almost any one since he's been here. Now you want him to talk to the press to raise morale? What about his well-being!"
"All of us are broken," Kingsley replied sadly. "The man has fought against incredible odds and come out on top. The people need a hero to champion, a reason to move forward now that everything is over. The ministry has been decimated, the auror's are unbelievably undermanned. Most all departments have less than half capacity with loses on both sides of the war be it loyalists or traitors. We need him to bring the people hope, so that others can step forward and help us rebuild."
"And what about what he needs," McGonagall snapped back.
"He has sacrificed everything for this war, he has no family left, he's psychologically damaged, physically compromised and most likely blames himself for everyone lost in this war. And now you want him to sacrifice even more? How many times will he be used for the greater good? I won't allow it Kingsley, enough is enough. He has done enough for the people. They will have to pick up the pieces themselves, if he had died during the war, they wouldn't have had him to turn to regardless. I will not allow him to be used again for other people's agenda!"
He couldn't help but feel touched at how strongly Mcgonagall had defended him. His head of house had his back once again and he felt indebted to her for all of the times that she had looked out for him whether it was through caring or discipline. She had bought him his first broom, gave him the seeker position in his first year and had consistently tried to look out for him throughout his entire tenure at Hogwarts. Of all the staff throughout his schooling life, she was the one who had always looked out for his self interest regardless of the outcome. Unlike Dumbledore who had wanted to look out for him in the best way he thought how, he had always put the 'Greater Good' before Harry's desires or interests. Dumbledore was the one who had left him with the Dursley's, left Sirius to suffer in Azkaban and then cage him within his own home. Even if he had done it with the best of intentions, he had never put what Harry wanted before what he felt what needed to be done. With McGonagall it was different, she had looked to him like a grandson rather than a student.
Harry startled when he heard a soft pop next to his bed and he slowly turned his head to the side to see Kreacher standing there looking unsure and rubbing his hands together in nervousness.
"Master," Kreacher started. "Mistress has told Kreacher to watch Master while he is here. Mistress has ordered Kreacher to offer to bring Master home if he would like to recover in privacy."
Harry processed what Kreacher had said before tiredly letting out a sigh and his face fell. Of course, Greengrass had activated the contract. He wasn't expecting to survive the war and stupidly signed without any knowledge of what he even signed for. Now he was tied down to a woman he didn't know or trust and he had no idea what he could even do about it. He didn't even have a copy of the contract, just signed and walked out without even thinking of the possibility that he would win.
He looked at Kreacher and just tiredly nodded at him and held out his hand for Kreacher to grab before he felt the elf disapparate to his new home. He looked around the bedroom that would be his, it was bigger than any room he had ever had in his life. The ceiling was impractically high, a large king sized bed with silk sheets and huge pillows scattered at the sat to one side of the room. A desk with parchment and quills resting waiting on the table for his leisure next to a large expandable wardrobe sat on the wall perpendicular to the bed. Across the room, a roaring fireplace with a reclining couch and ottoman and a small table with a book laid on it. Several other tallboys and random pieces of matching furniture was scattered throughout the room and close to the fire was a small dining table with two chairs. On the opposite end were two doorways, one leading to a bathroom and the other into a hall. The bathroom had a large bath tub that looked like a small pool, similar to the Prefect bathroom he had scene years before in his fourth year. Even though it was only a few years ago had past since he had faced the trials of the Triwizard tournament. His mood turned somber again as he remembered the tournament, the resurrection of Voldemort. The death of Cedric Diggory.
Kreacher stood silently watching as Harry took in the room. He wrung his hands together before snapping his fingers as quietly as he could. The small table filled with food and a goblet of Pumpkin juice. He stayed there waiting as he watched his master quietly regarded everything in the room.
Harry gingerly walked to the wardrobe and opened it. Looking inside, it was filled with new clothes with everything from underwear to muggle clothes and formal wizarding robes. He looked down at himself a saw he was still wearing the ratty clothes he had worn during the final battle and the days prior to it. They looked as though they were patched and cleaned magically, courtesy of Pomfrey he presumed. He just stood there looking at the wardrobe and trying to comprehend what was happening.
It was the nicest room he had ever been in, the first time that he had new clothes that were his. In all the time that he had been alive, even though Mrs. Weasley had given him a home away from his uncles it wasn't his. Now everything was over and he was stood in a room that was more luxurious and with clothes that were nicer than he ever imagined having. It made him uncomfortable and he suddenly felt a wave of anxiety.
"Master should take a bath," Kreacher croaked awkwardly and motioned toward the bathroom. "Kreacher will be here for master if he is needed. Master need but call Kreacher if there is anything that he needs. Mistress has spoken to Masters' healers and have given her all of the potions Master needs for his recovery. Kreacher has put them at the table with his food."
Harry looked back at him and simply nodded. He opened his mouth and the closed it several times before finally speaking for the first time in days.
"Kreacher," He started quietly. It was hard for him to speak, he still didn't even believe he was alive. He didn't feel like he deserved to be alive with all of the dead because of him but he was. He tried to weakly clear his throat before speaking again.
"Could you please go back to Hogwarts and the Burrow? Please tell Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley that I am safe and that I need time alone. You are not to tell them where I am or who I am with."
Kreacher bowed and then disappeared to follow his instructions. Harry stood there comatose for a few more moments before dragging himself to the bath that was already drawn for him, shedding his clothes and folding them putting them gently next to the tub before slowly lowering himself into the hot water. He laid back with a groan his eyes falling closed as he leaned against the rim of the tub. A potion was mixed into the water, the effects relaxing him and as it soaked into his skin his tired aches slowly started to leave his body. Harry couldn't help the guilt that bubbled inside him as he laid there in the tub for what felt like hours. He just sat there blankly in silence, staring up at the ceiling, struggling to even see how high it went. His thoughts began to wander, he thought about whether or not the ceiling was really that high or was it an enchantment. He thought about if it really even mattered, he just sat in the water and thought.
After what felt like hours he finally gingerly pulled himself out of the tub and wrapped himself in a towel before padding back into his room and back to his wardrobe. Now that he was back there he just stared blankly at it again, there was so much choice that he actually had no idea what to even take. In the past he had so little that there wasn't really a decision to be made. He just previously grabbed whatever was available with really only three or even four options to choose from. Now that he was standing there with more clothes than he had had in a lifetime he felt anxiety creeping up his neck at the thought of making a decision. The year of wearing only one set of dirty clothes that had only been cleaned out of necessity or when time allowed had taken its toll and he was suddenly overwhelmed with having the make a decision on something as simple as choosing what to wear.
Eventually he just cautiously grabbed the first item he could grab that he needed, not caring whether they matched or clashed before changing and moving over to the table. Venison and vegetables, a small tomato soup and a treacle tart sat on the tray next to a goblet and four small vials of potions. Harry shoved down the anxiety forced himself to eat as much of the food as he could and he quickly tipped all 4 potions into his mouth before washing it down with as much of the pumpkin juice as possible to get the disgusting taste out of his mouth. It was stupid to do, he hadn't even asked Kreacher how he needed to take them and for all he knew he just drank a concoction that while he had said was supposed to heal him, could have been deadly when mixed together. But he found that he didn't care as he got up from the table and moved over to the bed and laid down, not even moving under the sheets. Maybe if he closed his eyes and went to sleep he wouldn't ever have to wake up anymore.