Collected Short Stories - We Will Make Time

by Bfd1235813

A place to put pieces that start and end expeditiously. Post-war, reconstruction of Hogwarts, encore opportunities for characters who showed promise in canon but didn't get to display their skills, original characters who proved interesting, unexpected relationships, cameos. Not intentionally smutty although adults may indulge in adult activities.

8. Chapter 8 - The New Queen

Acknowledgement

This is a work of fanfiction, written and posted solely for the enjoyment of readers. All characters appear, or are derived from, the works of JK Rowling. The writer thanks Ms. Rowling for granting permission for us to pay tribute in this fashion. No compensation is given or received for this short story.

Introduction

Do we have free will? Would a Universe operating by the grace of an omnipotent, omniscient Being have provision for such? Could it? Consider the insects. Ant colonies comprise workers, drones and queens. Upon reaching maturity, a queen mates with drones, becoming the only ant in the colony that can produce fertilized eggs. In some species, when a queen dies, workers continue to carry out their tasks while they live, until the colony itself dies for lack of new members. Other species have the ability to produce a new queen. The exact mechanism is not well understood.

This post-war story follows the events of Like a Bunch of Ants.

The New Queen

by

Bfd1235813

A Harry and Daphne Short Story

The woman wore a long scarf draped over her head. It crossed itself beneath her chin, with the ends thrown over her shoulders, dangling down her back. It looked soft, and fuzzy, and was probably knit from angora wool. She didn't wear a heavy coat although her top garment was long-sleeved and reached her ankles. Depending on the material, it could have functioned as a coat or cloak. Her hands were bare which probably accounted for the fact that she kept them inside her sleeves except for the fingers that clasped the cuffs to her palms.

She wore plain, unpolished shoes with thin soles. They had a tongue that came up over the arch of her foot and closed with a wide strap run across the tongue and through a buckle on the outer side. The design was very old, the earliest examples being a handful of museum pieces discovered in exceptionally well-preserved Bronze Age tombs.

Yule was approaching and the weather was gray, chilly and damp. The woman didn't seem to mind. Her pace said she certainly wasn't in a hurry to get where she was going. On the contrary, she strolled along, looking left, right, left, right, slowing or stopping to look when something of interest grabbed her attention.

Atmospheric conditions were unsettled. The temperature was well above freezing so the mist that came and went stayed mist, declining to become snow or sleet. When a little blew across her path the woman tilted her face toward the sky, smiling as her skin drank in the pure droplets.

She did have a destination, although an observer could have been convinced they were watching a solitary wanderer who'd discovered their purpose in life was to travel without expectation. She'd begun her walk some miles away. Possessing the power to compress distance and move from her point of origin to her destination without physical effort, the woman found walking rural lanes in chilly mist strangely evocative of something. She knew it drew upon certain physical and temporal phenomena. Under the right conditions, the woman balanced the chill with warmth from her own exertions. The long muscles of her legs loosened up and she lost herself in the rhythm of walking, the welcome coolness of mist on her face and the soft daylight of winter in northern latitudes.

Managing the internal and external environments could bring on an ecstatic state. The woman could not say when, exactly, she'd noticed this ability in herself. It might have manifested in increments. At any rate, cool, mist, subdued light mixed with warmth from physical exercise brought on feelings of wellbeing, accompanied by visions. She kept it all hidden within herself. She had no interest in establishing a reputation for mysticism.

When the warmth from her leg muscles reached her abdomen, she could visualize a hearth with a fire and smell actual smoke. Women passed on news, none of it gossip. Someone was baking bread on the hearth. A cat walked up, sniffing. Children laughed and played with straw dolls.

When she reached the farmhouse, regretful that she must bid her companions good-bye.

"Good fortune to you all," she thought. "Blessings, sisters. Blessings, children."

She stood on the step-stone and rapped the wooden door with her knuckles.

"It's me, Andromeda," she called. "Daphne. Are you home?"

She half-wished the proprietress was not home, so she could begin walking right back in company with the women from her vision.

"Daphne!" Andromeda said, opening the door. "Come in! Aren't you soaked in this rain?"

"No, it's barely raining. I was walking. I stayed warm."

Her hostess stepped aside, admitting Daphne Greengrass to the farmhouse kitchen that served quadruple duty as entrance, exit and foyer. She removed her wool scarf and hung it over a wooden peg, then crossed to the fireplace.

"Put another log or two on that," said Andromeda Tonks. "Teddy and I were in the other room, speaking gibberish to each other. Now that you're here I'll get to practice my English."

Miss Greengrass laughed at that as she pulled a wooden chair nearer to the fireplace before sitting down.

"I'm going to take off my shoes and socks, if that is alright with you," she said. "The lanes are wet. This fabric turns the mist quite well. I've got my country girl unmentionables underneath everything else. I'll be toasty in thirty minutes."

"How is school?" asked Andromeda.

"Great," Daphne said, pulling a sock from a foot.

She laid the sock next to its mate, flat on the warm stone, trying to judge whether she was keeping them back from the heat. Too much and the wool would certainly begin to shrink.

"We missed so much last year. I'm enjoying my classes. Everyone is serious and cooperative. I think it is because we all recognize we've gotten a second chance. Fortune dealt us a bad hand, then thought better of it. I'm very grateful."

Daphne Greengrass, satisfied with the placement of her damp shoes and socks on the stone hearth, leaned back in her sturdy wooden chair and let the soles of her feet bask in the heat from the fire.

"Ooh! That's enough," she said. "A little at a time. Teddy's awake?"

A howl from the next room was her answer.

"Let me, maybe he'll give me a smile," said Daphne as she jumped to her feet.

"It's Teddy!" came through from the other room.

Andromeda stood up and crossed to the fireplace. She picked up a bowl and spooned some soup from a small cauldron that hung from a hook. Daphne returned to the kitchen, Teddy Lupin on her arm, with one of his arms slung around Daphne's neck.

"Gran-Gran-Gran!" he sang as he bounced up and down, riding Daphne's hip.

"We'll let this cool," said Andromeda, putting the bowl on the table. "Split pea, very watery. Also bland. No salt, no pepper, no chunk of ham. Quite nutritious. Easy on the young lad's digestion."

"Growing up to be such a big boy!" said Daphne, earning a smiling approval from her charge.

"So, what's going on?" asked Andromeda. "Aside from the obvious need to feed your Teddy habit."

"Oh, we're home for Yule, I needed a walk which meant I needed a destination," said Daphne. "Have you heard about my sister, Astoria?"

"Can't say I have," said Andromeda. "Why?"

"Oh. Well, have you talked to Draco? Since he came back from Canada and started school?"

"No. That's surprising. Draco wasn't really a scholar. He…um…How to say it? Draco was dominated by Lucius. Lucius believed money and power were the only two things that counted. It's no wonder he didn't have a lot of respect for learning and scholarship. Unfortunately, he passed that on to Draco. Maybe Draco changed, working with his shaman there in Canada."

"I think maybe he has," said Daphne. "He doesn't say much. Gives the impression he's thinking everything over."

"A change for the better," said Andromeda. "I'm in favor."

Andromeda pushed the bowl of weak split pea soup toward Daphne, getting Teddy's attention.

"Here," she said as she handed over a little wooden spoon.

Daphne arranged Teddy and began conveying half-spoons-full of soup.

"Well, the newly-serious Draco is being extra-nice to my sister, Astoria," said Daphne.

"Ahh…thus your purpose in selecting a destination for your constitutional."

Daphne laughed just a little.

"Well, kind of. I was suffering from Teddy withdrawal. Had to come visit my metamorphmagus friend since I've only got one. But, yes, I am looking for a little insight. If you haven't seen Draco, I apologize for my presumption," said Daphne.

Andromeda considered her guest. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy observed standard magical protocol after Andromeda was expelled from the Black family. She'd married for love, married the muggle-born Ted Tonks, as a matter of fact. Orion Black, the head of the family at the time, believed Andromeda and Ted had so shamed the Blacks that expulsion was the only acceptable response. Besides, she was a daughter and she'd defied him. A rebellious son might simply be attempting a coup, ordinary natural selection. A daughter, though? Totally different.

She had encountered Draco and Narcissa one day in Diagon Alley, purely by chance. Narcissa had thawed only enough to introduce her to Draco. Andromeda complimented Draco, noted he was a '…fine-looking young wizard.' Draco looked at his mother, who noted '…You can say thank-you, Draco.' Which Draco did, before responding to Narcissa's tug on his sleeve and following his departing mother.

"What do you think he'd like to do?" asked Andromeda.

She held out her hands to take her grandson, who'd become visibly anxious to change laps.

"It's not clear, leading to my field research," said Daphne. "There's no indication he is anything but interested in her and honestly so. Astoria is not hard to read. She accepts the attention, graciously. Doesn't complain about him when he isn't around. It's just…"

Andromeda studied her guest. Daphne was still barefoot. The skirt of her dress was pulled up past her knees. Her legs were clad in her country girl unmentionables which were not the fashionable tights seen everywhere but bulky knits worn by those who couldn't stop work and seek shelter every time the sky let go of a little precipitation.

"Harry?" asked Andromeda.

Daphne looked down at the flagstone floor, nodding.

"I couldn't see him as someone to get serious about last summer," Daphne began. "He was living with Narcissa! I know it wasn't 'like that.' He explained it was temporary shelter for a family member. Felt it was his duty. I believe him. Then she disappeared. He's never mentioned it but I can't imagine she left without a word. A note of farewell. We were both at school. He came back to London for the weekend and she was gone."

"It's odd," Daphne went on. "Draco came back, from Canada, and started the term with the rest of us. He hasn't said a word to me about Narcissa. Nor has Astoria. Maybe they think it's none of my business. Then there's Harry. He seems to enjoy my company. We always eat together if we're in the Great Hall at the same time. I don't know if he's mentioned it to you but the house table system has completely broken down for the seventh and eighth years. The younger ones stick with the system and take places closest to the High Table. The far ends are the rest of us old ones, open seating. Well, there are engagements and betrothals and even two or three inter-house marriages, so that's natural."

"So, Harry?" asked Andromeda.

"Down in the dumps for a bit after Narcissa left. Suppose he missed the company at Grimmauld Place. He didn't complain. Sometimes I see him staring off into the distance. If I just knew if she is coming back. It's not that I'm in a hurry to corral him, far from it. I like my life. On the other hand, if he's not a possibility I'll have a little talk with him and make it clear he can leave me alone. I don't need some wounded puppy turning up on my doorstep when his mistress locks him out at night."

That got a sudden, genuine laugh out of Andromeda, inducing a panicky look on Teddy's face. Daphne thought he was on the threshold of a good cry until her smile and some comforting words pulled him back.

"I got a brief note after Narcissa left," Andromeda began. "She had decided to get away from Grimmauld Place and, in her words, "…avoid complications." Those were left unstated. I do not know any details and avoiding complications could be interpreted. That covers a lot of territory."

Daphne had gone pensive while Andromeda was speaking, studying some copper-bottomed pots hanging from hooks screwed into ceiling beams. Her damp hair had dried in the kitchen, setting natural waves that framed her face. The hair that tumbled down her back grew out a reddish brown, the shafts lightening several shades at various lengths and the sun-bleached tips appearing to be gilded.

'Definitely some Brigid in this girl,' thought Andromeda, followed by, 'Poor Harry.'

Harry Potter was, at that moment, sitting in a stuffed chair near his fireplace, waiting to learn if he had a dinner date that evening. On the last day of classes before the Yule break, he had found the courage to ask Daphne Greengrass if she would go out with him while they were off school. He hoped for a 'Yes' answer but was sure he'd survive a 'No.' He'd overlooked the possibility of an 'Oh, thank-you! I'll let you know.'

Now, he sat, waiting for Daphne to let him know.

Potter had been stuck on his emotional Top Dead Center for most of the fall term. He'd returned to make up for his final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as much to decompress from wartime adrenaline overload as to complete all the schoolwork he'd missed. Then he'd given Narcissa Black, formerly Malfoy, room and board when she'd been cast out of her home of twenty years. Knowing emotional involvement with the mother of a contemporary was a big mistake was not the same as successfully eschewing said emotional involvement. She'd departed during his first week at school. He read the card she'd left when he returned home.

He knew it was for the best. He knew any hurt he felt was misplaced. He told himself he was simply feeling the space Narcissa had occupied. The way one's tongue finds the gap once filled by the missing tooth.

Potter's personal feelings were seriously confused. He liked Daphne Greengrass. He admitted he liked her. He liked her 'as a friend, and…' He liked her 'like that' and 'that way' and all the euphemisms for being well on the way to smitten. Even so, he had held off doing anything other than sharing a table at lunch. It took nearly until Yule for him to sort out his emotions and say a mental farewell to Narcissa. Now, if Daphne accepted his invitation, it would be his first foray into an actual social life since the climactic showdown with Voldemort.

Back in the cozy farmhouse, Daphne knelt before Andromeda's hearth, holding her socks in her hands, squeezing them, assessing whether they'd dried sufficiently. She would be going out into the wet lanes and mist again and a pair of dry wool socks are the best prophylaxis against cold, wet feet. Her left foot came up and landed on the seat of her chair, ready for its sock. Although Daphne's seating position put the tail of her skirt up near her waist, she didn't worry about propriety. She wore her wooly, country girl underthings and her hostess was a mature witch who had already seen it all. Daphne felt at home in Andromeda's kitchen. She could be herself there.

"I need a few more miles before I make that floo call," she said.

"Know what you're going to say?" asked Andromeda, one corner of her mouth curling upwards.

"Eighty-five percent," said Daphne. "Can I ask you something? Serious? Personal?"

"Certainly," said Andromeda. "Which doesn't mean you'll like the answer."

"Did you ever feel like you'd get a chance with one wizard and that would be it?" asked Daphne. "After being around Harry, learning about some of the things he's accomplished, meeting you and Teddy, I don't think any other wizard I've ever met could come up to the mark. I always envisioned a life with a husband, then children if we were lucky enough."

She leaned forward and snugged up both socks, then slid her feet into her damp shoes, buckling them up before standing. Daphne pulled her bunched-up skirt loose and shook it out. She reached for her scarf.

"Now, I don't see myself being some wizard's wife. I can see being Harry's wife," she said.

"Are you saying you're in love?" asked Andromeda.

"No. Definitely not," said Daphne. "Although that could come. Sometime. I see a wizard who is kind and brave and not afraid to change a godson's diaper and sit by the fire and hold a bottle for the little man. When I see that, or think about it, I feel like I am in my home, looking at my husband. I want to draw water from the well out in our garden, carry the pail into our house and give him a cool drink. It's all very strange and unfamiliar."

"Daphne, you're a witch," said Andromeda. "Lots of us get those. An aunt of mine told me they're messages from different realms. They can cross boundaries. Those things you felt come from five thousand years of our history. Yours and mine. We're witches. Keep your heart and your mind open and don't get seduced by modernity. Too much of modernity is a lie."

Daphne tossed her scarf back over her head, then brought it up and tied the ends under her chin. She turned to Andromeda, who still had Teddy Lupin sitting on a hip. Allowing room for Teddy, Daphne laid her cheek against Andromeda's.

"Thank-you. I think I know what I'm going to say, now," she said.

"Tell him how you feel, plain and simple. You'll both know," said Andromeda.

She didn't say what they would know.

She didn't have to.

Daphne closed Andromeda's door and started down the path that led out to the lane. There were a few moments of discomfort while she readjusted to the damp and chilly air. She consciously picked up her pace and lengthened her stride, feeling warmer almost immediately. In the distance, a gray haze occluded the sky and the lane ahead. Daphne smiled. What a day. People who avoided contact with such wonders of nature were missing so much.

Some chill worked its way inside her shoes and dress as she walked. Daphne could have cast a warming charm, but she didn't. Andromeda's words were on her mind. The ancient design of her shoes, the wool socks and underthings, all of it put her in mind of the witches who had gone before her. Those witches had teased secrets out of plants, animals, springs, stars and a hundred other natural phenomena, over thousands of years. Then they passed it on to their daughters along with edited versions for their sons. It wouldn't do to give away everything. Most witches were at a physical disadvantage to most wizards, that was an accepted fact. No one was hurt by evening things up here and there. Daphne walked along, listening, paying attention to the things her path told her, smiling. As far as she knew there was no way to document it, one way or the other. It would be wickedly cool if her maternal line truly went back to Brigid. Just thinking about it put a smile on her face.

Much as she was enjoying herself, Daphne decided it was time to end her happy wanderings and finished her journey home by apparition. She wondered if Harry Potter was near his fireplace. He should be expecting a floo call. Well, there was one way to find out.

"Hullo, I'm back," Daphne called out to the house, then continued to the fireplace, where she dropped some floo powder.

"Harry Potter, #12 Grimmauld Place."

She spoke into the green flames, then waited for Harry Potter's response.

"Daphne?" came a voice.

She knelt, sticking her own head into the flames.

"It's me! Still want to go get something to eat?"

"Of course!" said Harry. "I've been, uh…"

"Sitting by your fireplace?" asked Daphne.

"You're having too much fun," said Harry. "It's in your voice. Where do you want to go?"

Daphne wasn't in the mood for a Hollywood production.

"Let's meet at the Leaky Cauldron," she said. "If it's too crowded we'll think of something."

"Perfect," Harry said. "Time?"

"Thirty minutes?" asked Daphne.

"I'll be there," said Harry.

Daphne went looking for her mother. Harry would have been looking for a presentable jacket and tie, except Daphne had spared him that chore by suggesting they go to the Leaky Cauldron, giving him approximately twenty-eight minutes to use for something.

"I'm going out for something to eat," Daphne told her mother.

"You just got back!" protested Mrs. Greengrass. "You're all wet…"

"Just a bit damp," corrected Daphne as she reached down and unbuckled a shoe. "Going to get in a hot tub then sit in a room with a huge fireplace having a bite to eat."

Daphne unbuckled her second shoe and slipped both from her feet.

"Those socks!" noted Mrs. Greengrass, who did not embrace outdoor life, aside from puttering in her flower beds, in which task she was assisted by some skilled gardening elves.

Mrs. Greengrass was a very modern witch. She did not share Daphne's interest in activities meant to mimic the experienced world of witches from pre-Roman times. She thought those akin to some muggles' enthusiasm for re-enacting battles fought with mace and claymore.

"Warm, wool socks," said Daphne. "Our mothers' handiwork going all the way back. They knew a lot."

"Um," was all Mrs. Greengrass would concede as Daphne turned for the stairs, shoes dangling from her fingertips.

'Mustn't dither,' Daphne told herself as she used her wand to place the bathtub plug and open the taps.

The long, heavy dress came off, over her head, then the wooly undergarments. Pulling some clean, conventional underwear from a dresser drawer, Daphne grabbed a towel and returned to her bathroom. A flick of the wand shut off the water. She hadn't time for the leisurely, relaxing bath she liked because the clock was ticking down toward the time of her appointment at the Leaky Cauldron. Hot water soothed her muscles and joints. Depending on how the rest of the evening went, she might be free to soak every night hereafter for as far forward as it was possible to see.

A few quick swipes with the bath towel and a pair of clean knickers later, Daphne stepped back into her bedroom. She wanted to feel all the witches between herself and Brigid tonight so she substituted a snug sleeveless silk undershirt with a V-neck. It fit her perfectly and provided all the foundation her maiden's breasts required, a fact she confirmed with a detached self-inspection in her mirror.

She dressed in a full-length caftan with bell sleeves and a cowl, made of silk dyed a dark green, with embroidered borders sewn with silver thread. On her feet she wore a pair of skimpy sandals that wouldn't hide the perfect pedicure she touched up with a charm just before leaving her room. If she went outside for some reason she'd keep her feet warm with a charm. Daphne didn't put on makeup or perfume. She was stepping into an arena. Her body would let her know if it chose to compete, a course much surer than over-thinking.

"Mum, Dad, Leaky Cauldron for dinner with Harry Potter," she called as she crossed the central hallway of the manor.

Her parents were still looking back and forth when Daphne stepped out of the pub's fireplace. It had been twenty-eight minutes and some seconds since the conversation in which they had agreed to meet at the pub a half-hour later. Daphne scanned the public room, picking up Potter on her first sweep. He was staring at the fireplace, she was pleased to see.

"Been here long?" Daphne asked as she waited for Potter to position her chair.

He didn't answer, focusing on her seating, then sliding the chair forward as she raised herself up a bit. When she nodded her approval of Potter's witch-seating skills, he side-stepped back to his chair. Sitting down, he pulled the chair a few inches closer before propping his elbows on the tabletop.

"You look…"

Daphne sat, silent, waiting for the rest of the sentence. Potter appeared to be trying out alternative endings, running through mental index cards.

"…amazing!"

"How nice of you to say that," Daphne said, voice neutral, flat, neither hostile nor friendly. Neutral.

"Your dress…"

"Actually, it's a caftan," said Daphne. "Been. Here. Long?"

Apparently, Daphne could not go forward without an answer. She sounded like she wasn't just making small talk.

"You really want to know? You're serious. Okay, no, not that long."

"I wanted to know if you were anxious about this," said Daphne. "Would it be accurate to say you've been wanting to take me out on a date?"

"Of course I've thought about it," said Potter. "Who wouldn't? You're…gorgeous…and…smart."

"Compliments, so early in the evening," Daphne observed. "Nice ones. Thank-you. You look very presentable yourself. Tomato soup, cheese plate, cider. The mild kind."

"Oh—ready? Me too. Where's…?"

The server elf materialized next to the table.

"Miss Daphne! How nice to have you with us tonight!" said the elf.

Two finger snaps later a bowl of tomato soup, a cheese plate and a mug of cider were sitting in front of Daphne and the elf looked at Potter, clearly in expectation of another order.

"How did you? Oh—same, please," he said. "That looks g—"

Potter had the same meal before he could complete his sentence. He looked across at Daphne, who had a soup spoon poised to spoon up some soup.

"Bon appetit!" she said as her soup spoon plunged.

Once she confirmed the evening was starting off under favorable conditions, i.e., Potter did indeed see the meal at the Leaky Cauldron as an actual date, and he had been sufficiently anxious beforehand, Daphne settled down with her soup, cheese and chewy bread and let the current do its work. Subjects covered included Yule, the New Year, the replacement faculty at Hogwarts and post-Hogwarts plans.

"Draco seems to have undergone some kind of—some kind of internal—" said Daphne.

"Overhaul," said Potter.

"Exactly," said Daphne. "It appears he is courting my sister. Astoria."

"I remember."

"Well, he hasn't formally declared his intentions, nor called upon our father, at least as far as I know," said Daphne. "Astoria's in no hurry. She's two years younger than us. On the other hand, she hasn't sent him away, so we must assume she's enjoying his company."

"Mmm-hm—may it ever be so," Potter said. "We haven't done more than nod in passing, Draco and me. I overheard him tell someone who asked about his independent studies that it wasn't something he could talk about. I've been wondering if he is some kind of adept now."

Daphne stifled a laugh.

"Seriously? An adept? He's studied, what would it be, two months?"

"What do I know about Canadian shamans?" asked Potter. "Maybe they can compress time. Besides, my own studies were interrupted."

Daphne took a bite of the chewy bread, considering her date from across the table.

"You know, that's pretty profound. No, I mean insightful. I guess. Yes, insightful. We will all have this past year on our CVs, won't we?" she asked.

Potter nodded.

"We will," he agreed. "What kind of cheese is this?"

"I'd call it a mild white cheddar," said Daphne. "Do you like cheese with apple slices? Especially this time of year, outdoors, with the air a bit chill?"

"Can't say I've ever tried that," answered Potter.

"Hmm…"

Potter wondered if he would soon be invited to a cheese tasting, outside. Une charcuterie en plein air. Would that be correct? He resolved to devote more time to his study of French. Daphne would expect a husband who could manage the Continent.

'Damn!' he thought.

Husband?

Where did that come from? Some reflex caused Potter to look across the table. Daphne looked up, right into his eyes. She smiled, the tastefully-gilded bronze waves framing her face. Potter realized he had been thinking about it, all the while denying that he had been thinking about it. Conversations at mealtime contained more than surface meaning. Yes, he could commit himself to his dinner companion. If she was interested. Maybe it was time to find out.

"Daphne?"

"Yes, Harry?" she replied.

"Would you like to do this some more? This sort of thing? Go out, and, and, other…stuff?"

'Morgana, I think I'm going to need some help here,' Daphne thought, hoping her supplication reached its intended destination.

"That was not what I meant," apologized the now red-faced Potter, whose word sense seemed to have deserted him.

It sounded like an apology. Daphne pinched a chunk of bread and dropped it in the little puddle in the bottom of her bowl, moving it around with her spoon.

"I know what you meant," she said.

Then she slid the spoon under the bread and brought it to her lips. Potter sat, looking, apparently fascinated by Daphne's chewing movements. After she swallowed the bread and soup she dabbed her lips with her napkin.

"I have thought about that," she said. "We've been all but keeping company at Hogwarts, meals and whatnot. Rumor has it we're seen as a couple. I don't know if anyone has informed you."

"Oh."

His face went blank. It became obvious that Harry Potter was genuinely surprised by that revelation.

"No," he said. "No one. I mean, no one informed me."

Daphne's face was set, not hard. She meant to be reachable, yet serious. Eyelids a bit droopy, she considered the Harry Potter sitting before her.

"Well, now you know, don't you?" she asked. "Will you need time to decide if that is something you want?"

"Uh…well," he began, before reconsidering. "NO! Of course not. I didn't know if you were interested in being more than lunch friends. I didn't know how to ask, without sounding stupid."

Daphne's face was no longer set. Rather, she was visibly amused by Potter's fumbling about.

"Uh-huh. So, it sounds to me like we must become a bit more serious and methodical about getting to know one another, so we can clear up those mysteries. IF that appeals to you," she said.

"Yes, of course," said Potter. "Things. Likes and dislikes."

"I'd say so," Daphne agreed, thinking to herself that it hadn't been so hard.

Things, as Potter said. There was this one thing. How to raise it?

"Done?" Daphne asked, nodding at Potter's empty soup bowl and depleted cheese plate.

"Yes, I think so," he replied. "Dessert?"

"No. Not to dwell, but I do pay some attention. I can live without treacle tart. You?"

Potter admitted to serious infatuation with treacle tart.

"But I won't eat it in front of anyone not eating," he said. "There are boundaries."

"There are," said Daphne. "Shall we pay up?"

She reached into a pocket in her caftan.

"Oh! No, this is on me. Seriously," said Potter. "I've been wanting to do this. For a while, now. Please."

Daphne pulled her hand out of the pocket and sat while Potter looked around for Tom the barman or an elf or anyone interested in collecting some sickels. Tom gave him a nod, Potter stood and crossed to the bar to settle up. Daphne was standing at the table when he got back.

"A little air?" she asked.

"Are you dressed warm enough?"

"Harry Potter, I'm a witch. I know a charm or two to cope with chilly weather," said Daphne.

"A little air it is," he replied, leading the way to the door that opened out to the enclosed courtyard and on to Diagon Alley.

The street was alight with Yule decorations. Shoppers came and went from the stores, no doubt in search of last-minute gift items. Some of the shops had their doors open, as if it were the last week in August and school was about to commence.

"Diagon Alley," said Potter. "I'll never forget my first visit. That was my introduction to wizarding."

"I…I remember you mentioning that, it has to have been awful," said Daphne. "I can't recall when I found out about witches and wizards and magic. It's like I've always known. Always felt it, you know?"

"Actually, I did, too. That feeling. Just didn't have anyone to ask what it all meant. My aunt knew magic was real, but she refused to talk to me about my mum. She has very confused feelings. She knew my mother was a witch, and Petunia fears magic. They were also sisters, and, except for the magic, I guess they were close," said Potter.

"That would be quite the conflict," acknowledged Daphne.

"It would," Potter agreed. "Maybe talking to me was too painful. Maybe there is no way to deal with it."

"What do you think she does about that?" asked Daphne.

"Tries not to think about any of it, or anything connected. They, my aunt and uncle, created these stories to explain why I was an orphan, why I was with them, so they wouldn't have to revisit what really happened. So I had a completely false history until I was eleven, and the letters began to arrive," said Potter.

"Letters?"

"Yes. My uncle took my original Hogwarts letter away from me before I could read it, and he tried to take the second, third, fourth and I don't know how many more. Hogwarts never got a response so Dumbledore sent Hagrid to fetch me. That's how I learned I was a wizard and there was a boarding school for people like me. Like us," he said.

Daphne walked along, stopping now and then to look in a shop window. Potter stayed with her. He looked, too, but didn't have a need to shop so he focused on being good company.

"I've met muggle-borns who got the Ministry visitors who invited themselves in and sprang the news on them," Daphne said. "I've never heard of anything quite like what happened to you."

"Yeah," said Potter. "Yeah, let's hope that is unique. Everything was badly mishandled. I'm sorry he's dead but I would have liked to have the option of complaining to Dumbledore's face."

Something about it struck Daphne as so funny she laughed aloud, right in the midst of the holiday shoppers.

"Oh, Harry, of all things," she said. "Have you spoken to his portrait? That might give you some satisfaction."

"I know," he agreed, "But I don't want to do it with Professor McGonagall there, in case I get too wound up."

That was funny, too, and Daphne turned, sliding a hand under Potter's nearest arm, which she pulled to herself.

"Feel like a coffee?" asked Daphne. "Please let it be my treat. Get decaffeinated if you have trouble sleeping."

"Me? Trouble sleeping?" he teased.

Daphne brought him to a small café that sold coffee, tea, hot chocolate and cold drinks, delivered through a little window to customers on the sidewalk. They each took an espresso with two sugar cubes, in submission to the crisp winter air.

"Can I ask you something very personal?" Daphne asked as they walked the alley.

"I suppose," said Potter. "We're getting to know one another."

"Yes, exactly," said Daphne.

She stopped, dropping his arm, then took a little sip from her cup. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Daphne's eyes were once again narrow, almost sleepy-looking and they bored into Potter's.

"Where is Narcissa Malfoy, or, Black?"

Potter thought the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. He took a deep breath, looked down at the paving stones, then back to Daphne's eyes.

"I honestly do not know," he said. "She was at #12 Grimmauld Place after the wards at Malfoy Manor stopped admitting her. Then I found a note when I came back from Hogwarts for the weekend. She had to have left when I was in Scotland. I thought it likely she'd gone to Canada, although she didn't say where she was off to."

Daphne took his arm again and turned back to Diagon Alley. She didn't have anything to add, not right away, so Potter waited for some indication she was expecting more information.

"You know that if Draco and Astoria end up getting married, Narcissa will be my sister's mother-in-law?"

"Stands to reason," said Potter.

"Okay. In fairness to you, here is my honest analysis," said Daphne. "By agreeing to see one another and learn about various things, it follows that we are each seriously considering the other as a candidate for marriage. Agreed?"

Potter walked along, silent, considering. Daphne saw his mouth working as he thought, lower jaw going left and right, his lower lip getting nibbled by his front teeth. She wondered if she'd sent him into some kind of sensory overload.

"Yes. Agreed," said Potter, finally.

Daphne stopped again, stepping sideways to get directly in front of Potter.

"Then you can see that it would be impossible for me to be married to a man who is, at the same time, carrying on with my brother-in-law's mother. Can't you?"

"Of course!" Potter said. "Absolutely. Well. There is no carrying on, I swear! Narcissa was here, now she's gone. I don't know where she is. I don't know if Andromeda knows where she is. I'm pretty sure she doesn't."

"Good," said Daphne. "Keep it that way. If you want to continue seeing me."

Thus the conversation ended, Potter sighing but adding only: "Understood."

The Yule season progressed, the magical community producing its usual wealth of receptions and other seasonal distractions. Family celebrations alternated with open houses. The end of year was traditionally a very popular time for engagement announcements. Daphne watched and listened but it seemed Draco and Astoria weren't quite ready to make their relationship official.

In the aftermath, Potter's recollections of the Yule season had a telescopic effect. Weeks of events seemed compressed by optical wizardry into a sleighride of impressions and crystalline memories spread at random over a mastic of fuzzy good feelings.

Harry Potter was invited to the Ministry of Magic's New Year's Ball, the biggest single public event of the Ministry's year. Potter invited Daphne to the ball as soon as his own invitation arrived. Daphne reciprocated with an invitation to the Greengrass family Christmas dinner.

"Delighted, Madam, Sir," said Potter after Daphne had shown him into the salon.

It all felt a bit stiff but was appropriately calibrated, considering the holiday's significance. Astoria was present but Draco did not seem to be around. Potter thought that was probably for the better, at least for the present.

Christmas dinner was a pleasant surprise.

"So much eating around the Yule season, Harry," said Mrs. Greengrass. "We usually eat a bit lighter, since this is the one meal we can really control."

"Sounds great to me," he said, "I know it's a feast, but still—"

Potter's ready agreement got him off to a very good start with Mrs. Greengrass. The good feelings continued through dessert, a two-inch cube of treacle tart.

"Delicious!" pronounced Potter.

"Up to your usual standard?" asked Astoria.

"Oh, it exceeds my usual standard," Potter assured everyone.

Conversation continued over coffee or tea, covering current events, the quidditch season and news bits about the Greengrass girls' friendship circles. It was all very light, frothy and more amusing than one would think.

Three members of the Greengrass family caught Potter alone during the festivities.

"Harry Potter," declared Astoria when it was only the two of them, briefly, in the salon.

"Yes?" he responded, warily.

"Are you and Daphne…?"

"Stop right there, that's none of your business and I wouldn't speak of your sister to you when she's your sister and it is her right to control all of her personal information," said Potter.

It was short, simple and based on sound principle. Astoria noticed. She huffed, but just for show.

"Hmph," she said. "At the ball…"

"They will all behave or face the consequences," he answered.

When Potter lingered near the table, rescuing a carrot spear just before an elf sent the dish to the scullery, he looked up to see Mrs. Greengrass standing with one hand on the half-closed door, effectively blocking entry to the dining room.

"You're taking her to the Ministry Ball?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Potter.

"That will be seen as…"

Mrs. Greengrass left just enough of an opening.

"We've discussed that," said Potter, implying completion of the sentence with, "…and Daphne assures me she is comfortable…" although he didn't have to complete the sentence for Mrs. Greengrass to nod. Yes, she got his meaning.

He wondered if her mother would brace Daphne as soon as he left.

Daphne's father possessed a much more polished technique. Had Potter heard, somewhere, that the man had spent some early years in the diplomatic service?

"Daphne, I think your mother…kitchen…some leftover food question or other," he said as he walked up.

Harry and Daphne were standing outside the dining room door, considering garden strolls and other diversions. Daphne grasped the general idea, squeezed Potter's bicep and advised, "…I'll just…"

He watched her go, then turned back to his host.

"So," said Potter.

"Cigar, Harry? Firewhiskey?"

His study was just there, where Mr. Greengrass indicated, one arm extended in the direction they'd go, the opposite hand on Potter's back. When they'd entered and Greengrass closed the door, the serious business could begin.

Potter took his time looking around what was clearly Cyrus Greengrass' office, lair and Temple of Quiet Reflection. It was tastefully spare, the opposite pole to Dumbledore's private study at Hogwarts. A single instrument sat on a heavy wooden desk, a gyroscope that seemed to spin in perpetuity, leaning here and there while never toppling off its axis. There were books on bookshelves, both present in very reasonable numbers. There was a dry bar and a polished wooden box.

"Cigar?"

Greengrass lifted the lid, revealing the purpose of the box.

"No, sir, but thank-you," said Potter. "Firewhiskey would be most welcome, one finger."

Greengrass looked skeptical.

"Seriously," said Potter, confiding further: "One. Only. Lessons learned."

"Oh, well, not prying, or, didn't mean to, if I did. One finger it is."

Greengrass selected a substantial crystal glass, short but wide, a true handful. One finger in such a glass would equate to at least two, possibly three of the little measuring glasses. Potter accepted the whiskey and waited, expecting Greengrass would suggest they drink to something.

"Friendship," said Greengrass, confirming Potter's supposition as he lifted his own glass.

"Friendship," agreed Potter, raising his.

"Daphne told me, in some conversation someplace, you are Cornish and Irish?" Potter asked.

"So they say," Greengrass replied. "I grew up in Cornwall. The family stories say we were involved in a triangular trading venture with feet in Cork, Penzance and Brest. That's all back in the mists of time, of course."

"Sounds like something historical," said Potter.

"Mmm…Could be. Sounds like smuggling, as well," said Greengrass.

He raised his whiskey to take another sip. Potter looked at his host with greater appreciation.

"That's refreshingly honest," he said.

"No sense being coy," replied Greengrass. "It wasn't that long ago that anyone raised on one of those coasts who grew up speaking the local dialect would have been able to understand, and be understood, on the others. Those all go back to the old Celtic language. It's a natural extension for seafarers to trade for what's plentiful one place and scarce in another, then see if they can't skip all that paperwork with the Revenue. It's a timesaver and gets goods to the customer at a reasonable price. Plus they are all so far from the respective capitals. Even tax collectors realize there has to be some kind of economy at work for there to be any taxes to collect."

"I can see the advantages," said Potter.

"Not worth the risk or the trouble these days, with the tax cutters trolling for votes every two or three years," Greengrass went on. "We've been respectable at least as far back as my great-grandfathers, so far as I know. In case you were wondering."

Harry Potter wasn't the most sophisticated nor polished conversationalist in magical ranks, far from it. He noticed, and appreciated, that Mr. Greengrass was giving him a chance to get any preliminary questions asked before he and Daphne got so involved the answers would prove problematic.

"Not at all," said Potter. "You have a wonderful family. They'll be waiting for your report on this conversation, I'm sure. So, yes, Daphne accepted my invitation to accompany me to the Ministry's Ball. Yes, we did just touch on how that could and likely will be interpreted. She admitted she did consider that before accepting, then decided it would be worth it. We don't have plans past finishing the term and sitting our exams."

"Oh," said Greengrass. "So you're prepared for all the speculation and drawing of premature conclusions? Rita Skeeter leading the pack, of course."

That caught Potter completely by surprise and he let out a laugh.

"Been there. Done that," he said.

Greengrass realized Potter had just answered all of the questions he had on his mental list of things to ask Harry Potter.

"Sure you don't want a cigar?" asked Mr. Greengrass.

"Not just now," said Potter. "Feel free. It's your house."

"I'll have one later," said his host, sounding slightly regretful. "I guess…"

He took another drink from his glass, then put it down on the dry bar.

"You can take that with you, if you like," said Greengrass, flicking a finger at the glass in Potter's hand.

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Greengrass, but I really did learn a lesson once. The hard way," said Potter.

He placed his glass on the bar.

"So we're good? You and me?" asked Potter.

"Just fine," answered Greengrass.

"Excellent. I'm glad," said Potter. "I hope…"

Potter stopped because he didn't know exactly what he wanted to say. Greengrass waited, a slightly bemused expression showing.

"What I mean to say is, Daphne is so pleasant to be around, and she is obviously very close to her family, that, if we did go on, eventually make this permanent…which is all to say I understand it will be a package. Something I look forward to."

Greengrass smiled in appreciation.

"Quite eloquent, Harry, thank-you for your frank approach. Now, having been around Daphne a bit, you have noticed she has a way? She's the oldest so the natural leader of her pack of two, as you're seen. That carried over to Hogwarts. Gryffindor's hat saw the wisdom of placing her in Slytherin, although I'm sure she'd have accomplished just as much in Gryffindor. You're not finding her, oh, pushy?"

"No," said Potter, laughing. "Oh, no, not pushy. Daphne is honest and direct. If she has a question, she knows how to ask. Doesn't demand. Simply frames the question and waits for the return. It's an agreeable approach, as far as I'm concerned."

"Good," said Greengrass. "I'd say you two look like a good match. Glad we had our chat."

"So am I," said Potter. "Let's do it again."

They left the study and encountered Mrs. Greengrass and the two Greengrass daughters not far from the study's door, all involved in necessary household chores that could have been accomplished by elves without fuss or inconvenience.

"Ahhh…" said Daphne.

"Yes, exactly," said Potter.

He made a show of checking his wristwatch.

"I should, things piling up, have to get busy," he said.

"No doubt," Daphne agreed.

"So, if I may, thank-you all for the delightful Christmas dinner," said Potter. "Astoria, very nice to see you, Mrs. Greengrass, Mr. Greengrass…"

Potter dispensed head bobs freely, stood and smiled at Daphne.

"Floo?" she asked.

"Thought I'd go by apparition," Potter replied.

"I'll walk you out," said Daphne.

The air was invigoratingly crisp without having much bite. Potter took one deep breath, then another.

"Listen in?" he asked.

"Three witches standing around outside a closed room so one decides to cast a little eavesdropping charm? Are you serious? That would be madness, Harry Potter, you surprise me," said Daphne.

"Oh, of course, how silly of me," Potter agreed. "So we're good, I'm good with your father and we're all good with where things stand?"

"I'd say so," said Daphne. "And—we're outside the wards."

"We need a longer walk," said Potter. "Hyde Park. The shore. The Lake District. You can pick."

"When?" asked Daphne.

"Between now and the ball," said Potter.

"Okay," said Daphne. "Wednesday."

"Wednesday it is," said Potter. "Rain or shine?"

"Pffft…" Daphne answered.

When Wednesday came, Potter reversed his trip and returned, again by apparition.

"Ready?" Daphne asked, standing half in and half out of the front door.

"Ready," Potter confirmed.

Daphne descended the front steps, almost skipping, and escorted Potter back outside the wards.

"Hold on," she said, without further warning and disapparated them both.

"Ugggh!" Potter said when they arrived.

He even bent over at the waist but they'd gotten lucky and he didn't have to bring anything up just then.

"Where are we?" Potter asked.

He was on land but saw water all around.

"Land's End," said Daphne. "It's about eleven miles to Penzance, give or take, so we can walk and talk or just enjoy the company."

"All right!" exclaimed Potter.

He continued, now sounding puzzled.

"Why here?"

"Penzance," said Daphne. "Mum said you were interested in our family history."

He wasn't getting the whole story and he knew it, but Potter could not come up with a polite way to demand the missing information so he turned his mind to walking.

"Besides," said Daphne, "It isn't the same as doing the through-hike, but we can string sections together and eventually we will have walked the length of Britain. Welcome to our first such section."

"I have heard of people doing that," Potter said. "Something to think about."

Potter thought he was in fair physical condition but too much travel by floo and apparition meant he had to work to keep up with Daphne. They walked side by side whenever possible. The miles went by quickly. No one had to bring up what they'd come all that way to talk about. The topic might have grown from a stray seed, a volunteer thrown off from last year's mature plants.

"People will see us together and wonder…"

"We probably ought to have a plan…"

"Something to say that we're agreed on…"

"Both say the same thing…"

"If you're sure, I am…"

They did get there, eventually, perhaps because Penzance was visible, off in the distance, which meant they were running out of time. Some thoughtful person had placed a bench alongside the trail, on a little hump in the landscape. They looked out over a series of low hills to the Channel where a parade of ocean-going ships came and went, to and from London and ports unknown.

"Okay, I suppose I'm as well-informed as I'm likely to become," said Potter. "Any last questions?"

"No, none that occur to me right now," answered Daphne.

"All the chitchat over and done with, I guess it's time," said Potter.

He turned on the bench and took her hands.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," said Daphne.

Overcome in the moment, the only thing she had to add was punctuation. With a hand on each side of his face, Daphne pulled Potter to her and kissed him full on the lips. A group of hikers, coming along behind, awarded a group cheer for her care and thoroughness.

Thus they moved from their position at Christmas dinner, with plans only for finishing the school term and sitting their exams, to an almost-engaged couple.

"Now, the administration," said Daphne when they'd begun the final stage of their walk to Penzance. "I think I would prefer to wait until after the Ball to make an announcement. The Ball is going to be enough of a circus as it is."

"I'm sure," Potter replied. "Let's do it that way. June wedding?"

"Any particular reason?" asked Daphne.

"Hogwarts will be finished so you will have plenty of free time to make plans," he said.

Daphne looked at her new fiancé who had just shown real consideration, unprompted.

"Hmm…" she said as she nodded her head, just slightly.

So it went. There really wasn't a lot more to do right then.

The Ministry New Year's Ball was subdued, compared to some in the recent past. There had been a discussion, held in the Wizengamot as well as the magical press, as to whether there'd ought to be a ball or not. One school of thought felt the fallen could be respected by canceling the ball, and would be disrespected if one were held. The other viewpoint argued for a return to normalcy, including balls and an actual magical economy. The latter prevailed.

At the ball, Daphne and Potter danced, drank punch and socialized. There was some surprise at Potter's willingness to make polite conversation without regard to the political spectrum. Press comment was positive, excepting Rita Skeeter's column, Rita sounding frustrated that she did not scoop her colleagues with an exclusive detailing the engagement and marriage plans of Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass.

They weren't teasing; quite simply, neither attached any value to being the center of popular attention. Potter had his fill of that and Daphne's personality oriented her toward different things.

While Daphne and Potter were at the ball, Draco and Astoria spent the evening playing Exploding Snap with the Greengrass'. Narcissa was still on walkabout, somewhere.

The Daily Prophet, in a special early morning edition, devoted an entire page to photos from the ball, including one group featuring Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott. Order of Merlin rosettes were visible on the robes of four of the six.

"I'd like a print of that one, to frame," Daphne said as she read, holding the Prophet in one hand and spooning up porridge with the other.

"I'm sure your boyfriend could arrange it," said Astoria, speaking over her teacup. "You could trade for the exclusive rights to your wedding story."

"Eat your breakfast, Sis," said Daphne. "You're going to need your strength."

"For what?" asked Astoria.

"Let me put it this way: how far can you run?" replied Daphne.

Astoria sighed and shook her head.

"Hey," said Daphne. "Was it fun? Yes. Would I have preferred it if you could come? Yes. Will we both go, sometime? Of course, if there is any way I can make that happen. Satisfied?"

"There aren't a lot of choices left, so, yes, I guess so," answered Astoria.

That little exchange over breakfast was the first sisterly friction deriving from Daphne's attendance at the Ministry's New Year's Ball.

Daphne began a little fence-mending.

"How's Draco?" she asked.

"Fine," said Astoria. "Not much of a card player."

"Really? Maybe he just needs more practice."

"Maybe. He seems distracted," said Astoria.

"Imagine that," said Daphne. "I expect he'd like to know where Narcissa is, how she's doing."

"He doesn't like to talk about it," Astoria said. "The breakup, and all."

"Yeah, that has to be just more disruption," said Daphne. "Doesn't mean he isn't concerned. She'll be back."

"Why do you say that?" asked Astoria.

"I don't know," said Daphne. "Seems logical, I guess."

Astoria's boyfriend's family business ceased being interesting.

"Are you going to move in with him? Before, you know," Astoria asked.

"We don't have plans to move in together," said Daphne. "I think we may have an unspoken agreement to avoid the subject. We both want to stay focused on school. We started something and we're going to finish it."

"Are you doing it yet?"

Astoria seemed determined to get her goat this morning, Daphne observed. Instead, she shrugged.

"He hasn't asked, or demanded, pled for me to stay over at Grimmauld Place or made any physical gestures in that direction," said Daphne.

"Wha-a-t? Is he gay?" asked Astoria.

"He hasn't come right out and said, nor have I asked, although I doubt if he'd be squiring me about if he were," Daphne answered. "We've a number of scrumptious wizard classmates who don't seem to be interested in witches, so I'd imagine he'd have his pick. If that was his preference. No, I just think he is in the habit of setting priorities and concentrating on taking them in order."

"Makes sense," said Astoria. "He had to pay attention to staying alive for so long."

The logic was impeccable, the timing perfect and Astoria's dry, matter-of-fact observation all hit the bull's eye simultaneously with great comic effect. Daphne took her teacup from her lips as her other hand grabbed her napkin and brought it up. Disaster was averted, other than a crimson face.

"Bloomin'…give a girl some warning why don't you?" Daphne asked. "Next thing up is picking a date for going public. We have talked about that. Harry has been very accommodating. He even asked if I wanted to consult an astrologer."

"Buttering you up," said Astoria. "He suspects you respond to those little nuggets. Probably opens doors for you and pulls out your chair at the table, doesn't he?"

Daphne had to admit Potter did those things, and that she liked having him do them, for her. She granted Astoria one nod of her head.

"But he doesn't get overbearing about it," she added. "He has expressed an appreciation for, as he put it, '…getting back to normal.' If our Chosen One takes pleasure in gifting me with little gestures, I will gift him in return, letting him know I appreciate the civility, his good manners and taking me places like the New Year 's Ball."

"You really want to jump his bones," Astoria declared.

"Oh, Mother Brigid, help me! Yes, I do," Daphne agreed.

"Well, why don't you go ahead and do it?" asked Astoria. "You're still taking the potion, aren't you? Why's he torturing you? He must be keeping his fly closed in some misguided…"

"Astoria, we were having a nice conversation and you're going way out of bounds," said Daphne. "Harry and I can make our own decisions about those kinds of things, thank-you."

The mood altered by their last exchange, the Greengrass sisters returned to their breakfasts. After a while, Daphne looked across at Astoria.

"Yes," she said, softening a bit.

"What?" asked Astoria.

"I'm still taking the potion. It was never necessary, thank Merlin. Nice to know it was there. Some of those Dark Lord devotees just assumed a Slytherin witch…Anyway, last year, I heard things. Never happened to me but if it had it wasn't going to result in fights over child support with the likes of Crabbe," Daphne said.

Astoria smiled.

"When did Mum sit down and explain it all?"

"When I was twelve," said Daphne. "Same as you, right?"

"Uh-huh, twelve," said Astoria. "I heard things, too. Last year."

Daphne paused and considered Astoria. All year she had made a point of keeping Astoria close by whenever possible, but neither could be two places at once. Astoria had to go to her own lectures and pass through the halls like everyone else. They hadn't had nearly as many difficulties as the muggle-born and half-bloods in the other houses. The mention of Daphne's Hogwarts seventh year took some of the brightness out of their conversation.

"We've come out the other end of that tunnel, I guess," said Daphne. "Now we build something new."

"Hear-hear," muttered Astoria.

Potter and Daphne had, with proper respect for the healthful effects of sleeping in after a late night at a ball, tentatively scheduled a floo call for some time after lunch on New Year's Day. A brief consultation led to Potter apparating to Daphne's home for some fresh country air, tea with honey and some reviewing of the previous night's events. Those managed, Potter changed direction so abruptly that Daphne had to take some moments to re-orient her thinking.

"Do you still like June?" Potter asked.

"For?" Daphne returned.

"A wedding," said Potter. "Yours, mine. Marriage? Don't remember?"

"Harry Potter," Daphne warned, "You are not too big to spank. Yes, I've been thinking June."

"Makes sense," said Potter. "Finish school. Sit exams. Get married. So we need to sit down with your mum and dad. Right?"

"If you're determined, then, yes, that's done before," Daphne said. "It's a little archaic but very traditional."

"Would today be about right, or do we do it sixty days before? Ninety?" asked Potter.

Daphne started laughing.

"You came out here to do this, I'm guessing," she said. "Okay. Let's go."

Standing, Daphne took his hand and led Potter back to the front door.

"Let's see…" she muttered as she dropped Potter's hand and walked down the hallway on her own, peeking into rooms as she went.

"Ah. I wonder, is now a good time?" Daphne asked someone, Potter standing back from the half-opened door.

All must have been well as Daphne made a 'Come here,' gesture toward Potter.

They entered the salon together. Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass sat in padded straight chairs, face to face over the top of a game table, some kind of board game laid out between them.

"Harry Potter wanted to talk to you about something," Daphne said, unknowingly inducing panic in Potter who suspected she was about to desert him. Not knowing where he was going to finish, he began to speak, mainly to avoid standing before Daphne, and Daphne's parents, looking like a complete dolt.

"Yes, you're aware that Daphne and I have been seeing one another. We've had some serious conversations. I asked her to marry me. She said yes. Yule and the ball are over. If we were to marry after Hogwarts finishes this year, we would need a few months to plan and for Daphne to do this and that. It all has to begin somewhere, so, we need to know if you have any objections? Special requests? Counseling or advice to offer?"

"Most eloquent, Lord Harry," Daphne stage-whispered.

"Oh, but it was, Daphne," objected Mrs. Greengrass. "You could not have done better, Harry."

"I wondered when you two were going to get around to it," said Mr. Greengrass. "You put my mind at rest last week after Christmas dinner, Harry, so why don't you proceed? Let us know, if you need anything."

Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass turned back to their board game.

"Well, that was something," said Potter after Daphne planted him in a chair in the breakfast room. "I guess they really like that game."

"They're very low-key," said Daphne. "Besides, I've told them we were talking about it. You did well, by the way."

"Me? Why?" asked Potter.

"Direct, to the point, not a lot of frothy language. That always comes off as insincere," said Daphne. "Even if the speaker is convinced he means it."

Potter made a mental note to avoid frothiness.

The steppingstones to their actual wedding day appeared in sequence. Potter asked Daphne if she wanted an engagement ring.

"Do you want to get me one?" Daphne asked.

Potter couldn't read her, hard as he tried. She might want one, but not want to ask. She might want one, of some kind, but have objections to something heirloom, new, or with an inhumane history, like a diamond someone got killed over. She might also not want one as it was too much like a brand marking her as Harry Potter's property.

"I want to do whatever makes you happy," Potter answered.

That was an acceptable response, apparently.

"I would be happy, wearing your ring," said Daphne.

"What would you like? There are all kinds. Diamonds are traditional but you don't have to stick with diamonds. Some people do emeralds or rubies or sapphires."

"They're all nice, as long as they aren't too gaudy and the setting is done with good taste," Daphne said.

They left it there, although Potter didn't stop thinking about it. Daphne's statement was so enigmatic. His final working assumption was that she was deliberately vague because she wanted to see what he would come up with on his own. The way forward might be fraught. He'd proceed with caution.

Harry Potter took a conservative approach. He visited the Potter Family vault at Gringotts and dug through the jewelry boxes. One ring box seemed to stand out from the others. He wondered, was magic directing him, pointing at the box he should investigate?

The deep red velvet-covered box opened with a subdued 'click.' It held a ring, a solitary diamond in a plain gold band. There was a piece of paper folded into the lid. Potter pulled it out, finding it was a note.

"Fleamont gave me this when we became engaged. Blessings, Euphemia."

His grandmother's engagement ring! With a personal note!

Potter remembered learning his grandmother and grandfather had succumbed to dragon pox before he was born. She must have known she was going to die, to have the foresight to take off her ring and have it put in the family vault. Potter felt the head-spinning sensation as thoughts and questions pushed against one another, clamoring for attention.

What were his grandmother's wishes? Did she expect her ring to mark another family engagement? What brought the ring to his attention? Was Grandmother's magic pushing her ring forward for his consideration? Did she expect to somehow live on, being worn, out and about, on a future Potter wife's finger?

He had to cut the thoughts off before his brain overheated. Putting the box in the pocket of his robe, Potter stood before the door to the vault. He turned around and looked at the piles of junk and treasure his ancestors had acquired, used, then put away in a vault because they couldn't bear to part with them. He resolved, not for the first time, to dedicate a week to establishing an accurate inventory which he would then keep updated. Soon.

"Harry Potter, I hope you know what you're doing," said Daphne.

They were sitting in the most formal room in the Greengrass home, called simply 'The Parlor.' The subject under discussion was Rita Skeeter.

"Puncture the balloon," said Potter. "Once. Giving this to Skeeter, that big 'WHOOSH' you hear will be the sudden decompression of the whole, overblown…"

"So you've said," Daphne noted. "I am unsure, so I will follow your lead on this."

"Will you hold it over my head if it doesn't go exactly as I predict?" asked Potter.

"No, Harry Potter," said Daphne. "By marrying you, I will be throwing it all in, for better or worse."

She looked him in the eye.

Potter sat, possibly hypnotized.

"Oh! Oh—me too!" exclaimed Potter as he escaped his fugue. "Yes, all of those, better or worse, in sickness and in health."

"Don't forget to say it like you believe it," Daphne advised him, a slight smirk showing.

"Yes," said Potter. "Thus, in recognition, I would like to ask if this would be something you would like to wear at our interview?"

He took the ring box from his robe's pocket and opened it for inspection.

Daphne didn't say anything right away. Potter's panic rose with each second of silence. Finally, she raised her head and faced her fiancé.

"Is that real?" she asked.

"I took it to that shop in the Alley, for cleaning," said Potter. "The jeweler called it 'exceptionally fine,' I think. What? Do you see something wrong with it? I guess we could always have it looked at, just to establish…"

"No," said Daphne. "It is fine. Please."

If there was a question about what she was asking for, with her 'Please,' it went away when she extended her left hand, fingers stiff, separated and pointing at Harry Potter. When he'd finished sliding the ring on her finger, Daphne reprised their moment on the bench along the trail outside Penzance, this time with no audience present to share their joy. Affirmations of love, hugging and squeezing went on for a bit longer. Eventually, Daphne pulled away to arm's length distance.

"Oh," said Potter as he remembered something.

He reopened the ring box and removed a little piece of parchment, which he unfolded.

"My grandmother," he said. "Looks like she left this in the box."

"How?"

"I don't know and the only people who might have known are gone," said Potter. "Both of my dad's parents died in a dragonpox outbreak. My guess is she knew she wouldn't recover and put this all together and got some trusted person to get it to Gringotts."

"Remarkable," said Daphne. "That's some witch."

"Let's see," said Potter.

Daphne offered her hand, which Potter held in both of his as he tilted his head left, then right.

"I like it," he said, leading to another extended hug.

"Like what?"

They looked up to see Astoria Greengrass, trailed by Draco Malfoy, standing in the doorway to the parlor.

"Right on time," said Daphne. "As always. Here, take a look."

She again extended her left hand, her new engagement ring throwing rainbows in the sunlight.

"Wow," said Astoria.

"Yeah. Wow," echoed Malfoy.

"Thank-you," said Potter.

"That is some rock," Astoria continued. "Make him get you one to wear for every day."

"Astoria…" Daphne began, until Potter raised his hand.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, that has to be in the ninety-ninth percentile of all the diamond rings in Magical Britain, just for size," said Astoria. "People steal those kinds of rings. Is it an heirloom? If it's stolen you probably won't get it back."

Potter looked at Daphne.

"You know, one for ceremonial occasions, one for sitting in the classroom or drinking butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks," Astoria said. "What do you know about the history?"

Daphne still held the parchment, which she handed to Astoria.

"Fleamont?" asked Astoria.

"My paternal grandfather," said Harry. "My grandmother seems to have left the note. Her name was Euphemia."

"Did he invent Sleekeazy?" asked Malfoy.

"So I was told," answered Potter. "All before my time."

"Merlin, you're the grandson of a legendary tycoon!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"Thanks, I guess," said Potter. "Something else to live up to. Wish I could have met them. They succumbed to dragonpox, before I was born."

"So," said Daphne, "I think I might like to see if my mother is about. She'll take an interest in my new accessory, perhaps."

Malfoy looked at Potter, shaking his head very slightly.

Potter fell in behind his fiancée, off to look for one or both of her parents. Mrs. Greengrass was outside, despite some slight drizzle, raking compost into some dormant beds.

"Mother, don't you want to have an elf do that, assuming it just has to be done at all?" Daphne asked as she and Potter walked up. "You could catch something out here in this messy weather."

"Just the thought I had two or three weeks back when you came in from getting soaked and went right back to London for some assignation!" answered Mrs. Greengrass. "Hello, Harry. Was that you, dragging her out into that iffy weather?"

"It was me, and a wonderful evening it was," said Potter.

"Harry and I will be finishing the term, as agreed, Mother, but then we'll be seeing lots more of each other. If you want to train him further, you will have to hurry," said Daphne as she extended her left hand for Mrs. Greengrass' inspection.

"That's lovely. Blessed Morgana, Harry, what did you have to spend to properly equip this witch?" joked Mrs. Greengrass.

"Nothing, I inherited it," said Potter.

"It was his grandmother's," Daphne said. "I'm honored."

The sentiment was so powerful it resulted in a kiss to Potter's cheek, right in front of Mrs. Greengrass.

"Was that Euphemia?" asked Mrs. Greengrass as she pulled Daphne close.

"Yes, it was," said Potter. "Did you know her?"

"Can't say I did," Mrs. Greengrass said with a little shrug. "I remember seeing her with your father on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. We may have spoken once or twice but I don't have any clear memories of that. I did hear that James lost your grandfather and grandmother in that dragonpox outbreak. So sad."

Potter nodded.

"Well, then, congratulations Harry, long life and much happiness together, Daphne," said Mrs. Greengrass, finishing with a kiss for her daughter.

The school term continued through January. Potter did heed Astoria's advice and took Daphne shopping for an identical ring, except for the imitation diamond, so she had something for daily wear.

February was dismal. Potter forced himself to focus on his classes, not from love of learning but as a distraction from the drizzle and gloom. Daphne actually liked the foul weather. The out-of-doors was becoming much more attractive by late March. The earliest spring blossoms were raising their heads, in some spots peeking up over leftover bits of snow. Daphne pestered Potter until he took her to Andromeda Tonks' for tea. They sat in Andromeda's kitchen, talking, Daphne holding Teddy Lupin on her lap.

"He's getting so big!" exclaimed Daphne. "Teddy, I go back to school for a few weeks and you grow up on me!"

That was funny enough to get a laugh back from Potter's godson. Spring sunshine poured in the windows. The fire in the fireplace had burned down to coals. Andromeda wouldn't need it for heat so she would only add enough wood for cooking things like Teddy's porridge. She had just begun to ask about wedding and post-Hogwarts plans when they all heard the 'POP' that accompanied an apparition.

Potter stood and crossed to a window, his right hand moving, from long habit, to grip his wand. Daphne saw a change come over Potter's face.

"Harry?" she said.

Potter glanced at her, not saying anything.

"Harry, is there something wrong?"

Instead of answering, Potter opened the door, then spoke to someone outside.

"Hello, Narcissa," he said. "I suppose you'd like to come in?"

Narcissa, formerly Malfoy, crossed the threshold into Andromeda's kitchen. Two witches looked over the top of Teddy Lupin's head, sizing one another up. Each spotted something right away. Daphne Greengrass was wearing a significant piece of jewelry on the third finger of her left hand, Narcissa noticed. Daphne could see, even though the newcomer was wearing a loose robe that ended just above her ankles, that Narcissa was visibly pregnant.

"Daphne," said Narcissa.

"Madame…what?" asked Daphne.

"Everyone calls me Narcissa these days," said Narcissa. "I sign my name Black, when necessary."

"Tea, Narcissa?" asked Andromeda, getting a cup and saucer from a rack near the fireplace.

Potter's eyes moved from Narcissa to Andromeda as their hostess took a teacup from the shelf. Daphne shifted from Narcissa to Potter. He wouldn't have said there was a reason, according to the physics operative on Earth, for him to feel Daphne's eyes lock onto him. He did, nevertheless. Out of words, Potter gave a little shrug.

He might not have been as well-schooled in the details of reproduction as the witches, but Potter could count. It was roughly seven months since Narcissa Black had departed London while Potter was away at school. He wished he could be furious. If she had conceived a child during her brief residency at Potter's, Narcissa could have let him know.

"I think you'd better sit down, Narcissa," said Potter. "Something tells me we have matters to discuss."

Lacking any experience as a party to parenthood, Potter felt he had just stepped from a diving board of undetermined height. He wondered how long he would drop before he encountered a surface. He could hope it would prove to be water but there was no reason to believe it was.

Daphne sat, completely still and silent, only her eyes moving. She could have transmitted her stillness directly to Teddy, who leaned back, watching the adults and holding Daphne's fingers in his little fists.

Potter wanted Narcissa to start talking. She didn't seem to be in a hurry. Or, perhaps she wasn't in a hurry to discuss the effects of pregnancy on a witch approaching her middle years.

"Well," Narcissa began, "You all just HAVE to take a trip to Canada."

Apparently, everyone had to hear about the First Nations villages and the herbal healer women, the natural beauty, wild water, standing under the aurora wearing only a robe while she received an ancient well-baby blessing, and on and on. Daphne began to suspect Narcissa couldn't bring herself to open the real discussion, the one they all knew was coming. The longer the travelogue continued, the more obvious it became. She was about to order the newcomer to shut up and focus when Potter stepped up and took over.

"Narcissa, stop," he ordered. "We can all see and we can all count."

He took a deep breath. Unable to control his eyes, Potter glanced at Daphne. She was waiting, her face a blank.

"Is that mine? Or, more properly, ours?"

"It is," said Narcissa.

"Why are you here, now? Unannounced? Did you want to surprise me?" asked Potter.

Narcissa took a deep breath and looked at Andromeda.

"I left because I feared this would happen," Narcissa began, then shifted her gaze. "Daphne, this was all my fault. Harry did nothing but hold onto me, as I asked him to. Everything after that was my doing. I came to my senses and decided to get out of London. Draco was in Canada so it was logical to pay him a call. We had two days to talk before he came back for school. I thought he might want to break relations. He's a Malfoy in good standing so that is his prerogative. When the signs began to appear, I considered ending it. Then I dithered. Before I realized how much time had gone, it was too late. Now, I'll see it to the end. Any consideration shown will be appreciated but I have no claim to anything, Harry. You have every right to exile me. If that is your wish, I will comply."

Daphne watched Potter across the kitchen, holding Teddy, letting him move her hands up and down by her index fingers. Potter felt her gaze, as if it pressed against him, some actual weight on his skin. He knew he was undergoing inspection. Daphne would be weighing his suitability as a husband with every word he spoke.

"Daphne and I are engaged," Potter began. "If she'll still have me. "

Again, he glanced from Narcissa to Daphne. His fiancée was still keeping her face in neutral.

"A letter would have been nice. You disappeared for the better part of a year. Now, here you are, pregnant. While you were gone, our lives continued. Have you seen Draco?"

"Not yet," said Narcissa.

Potter looked at Daphne, who shrugged.

"Might as well tell her," she said.

"Draco is seeing Daphne's sister, Astoria," said Potter. "To an outside observer I must say it looks serious. Something to think about."

"Harry, you're right, but that is also irrelevant," said Daphne. "Excuse me, Narcissa, but do you know your baby's sex?"

"It's a little witch," said Narcissa. "According to my friends in Ontario."

Potter breathed out, noisily, shaking his head.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Daphne.

"Just all of this," said Potter, a wave of his hand taking in Daphne, Narcissa and the little Potter-Black witch. "It's a lot. A lot of—something."

"Daphne, we'll get out of your way, as soon as we're able," said Narcissa. "I didn't know what to do and I can get through the delivery and when we're on our feet we can go back to Canada."

"Harry?" said Daphne.

"Hmm?"

"Anything to say?" Daphne continued.

The thought occurred to Potter with the speed and power of the unexpected wave catching a swimmer by surprise—she was treating him like a specimen preserved on a glass slide, looking at this aspect and that, moving by millimeters. What could he do to demonstrate he was acceptable? What were Daphne's standards? Even if he met those, would she still want him? Potter settled on honesty.

"Please stay here," he said. "I want to see her grow up. We'll have to work something out, for your housing, and Draco will no doubt have an opinion, but if she's mine, I don't want her off in Canada."

"But it might be best—" Narcissa began.

"Stop!" said Daphne. "There is nothing here that can't be managed. Harry, if you'd said anything besides what you just said, I think I would have given this right back to you."

She meant her ring, flashing in the kitchen sunlight as Daphne waved her hand.

"Narcissa, your little witch has noble blood, even if she is coming from an unusual direction. Thank Merlin we don't have those horrid prejudices, at least not as rigid as they once were. Harry, I think it would be best if you recognized your daughter, from the beginning. We will have a solid front, then, won't we?"

Daphne looked around, beginning with Andromeda, now showing herself to be a faithful ally. Andromeda nodded, as did Potter.

"Good. That's done," Daphne said. "We can accompany you to call on Draco, if you like, Narcissa, the sooner the better. He can't get too upset in front of Harry."

Potter looked like he'd been slapped. Daphne shot him a look. Potter recovered.

"Comment?" asked Daphne.

"No, you're right," said Potter.

"Andromeda—May I?"

Daphne gestured toward the fireplace. Without waiting for Andromeda to answer, she stood and went directly to the jar she knew held Andromeda's floo powder.

"Malfoy Manor," she said as the flames rose. "Draco?"

Minutes later, a party of three materialized on the lane outside the Malfoy Manor wards, Andromeda staying behind with Teddy Lupin. There was, after all, the possibility of serious fireworks at Malfoy's. The front door of the manor opened and Draco Malfoy stepped out, pausing just outside before descending the steps. His visitors waited before the iron gates. By the time he reached the gates, Draco had decoded the news Narcissa was bringing.

Being cast out did not present a problem if the Malfoy Heir opened the gates. Narcissa entered the grounds first. Potter saw she didn't hesitate, stepping inside, keeping her eyes on Draco.

"Mother," he said.

"Draco," answered Narcissa.

She looked like she wanted to greet him with an embrace, perhaps a kiss. Draco did not appear to desire either, although he neither did nor said anything ungracious or unworthy of the Malfoy Heir.

"Shall we?" asked Draco, before turning without another word and leading the way to the house.

Hospitality took some minutes after the party arrived in the salon. An elf brought tea and some cookies. Draco seemed determined not to exhibit a single instance of ill-breeding.

"Mother, your…condition…was not apparent last year," he said. "All is well?"

"So far, yes," said Narcissa.

"Mmm…" said Draco. "Daphne informed you I'm seeing her sister?"

"She did," answered Narcissa. "Are congratulations in order?"

Draco looked at Daphne. He didn't answer his mother right away but shook his head from side to side.

"We've talked," said Draco. "Another year, at least. Astoria will be finishing her seventh year. We're both happy with that. Now, I take it that is not Father's?"

Draco motioned, somewhere near Narcissa's middle.

"No," said Potter.

Draco and Daphne looked his way.

"You?" spat Draco, his face reddening.

"Afraid so," said Potter. "Late last summer…"

"It was me, Draco," interjected Narcissa. "I felt damaged after—everything. I needed, something. It all originated with me. Daphne brought it to our attention that you might have an opinion and that you have a right to know. That's done. Do what you feel you have to do."

Narcissa stood, signaling her readiness to depart, followed by Potter and Daphne.

"No, no, don't go," said Draco.

He motioned with his hand, inviting his guests to sit back down.

"Don't go, please. He ended your marriage, not you. You were free. Besides, the only way we avoid facing this is to emigrate," said Draco. "Don't you think?"

The other three nodded, but didn't speak.

"Which I don't want to do," Draco finished. "Which means we talk for as long as it takes and look for a way to agree on some things."

Daphne sat, silent, hoping her astonishment was not showing. The good-looking dolt who had charmed her sister had not shown more than the most basic social skills during their years together in Slytherin House. She wondered where he had gotten lessons in diplomacy.

With enough time and conversation, some things were, indeed, agreed-upon. Draco and Narcissa thought it could be dangerous for her to stay at Malfoy Manor, even with the Malfoy Heir's consent. Neither knew every detail of the family magic's preventive measures. The unwary and uninformed were sure to come to grief.

The visitors took their leave of Draco and returned to Andromeda Tonks' place for further planning. All agreed Narcissa could not stay at Andromeda's. Andromeda and Teddy could attract the attention of Death Eater irreconcilables all by themselves. Narcissa (formerly Malfoy) Black, whether someone made the Potter connection or not, would only add to those concerns.

The inconclusive discussions and pointless listing of speculative solutions drove Daphne to a decision.

"Narcissa, you'll have to take the townhouse," she said, interrupting Potter in the middle of an unfocused reiteration of an already-rejected non-solution.

"Wha-?"

"When he's not at in the dorm at Hogwarts, Harry can get a room, at the Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron" she said, cutting him off. "Clean, safe, secure. Once the baby is here, something will be done to ensure she has a roof over her head. Right, Mr. Potter?"

Potter stared at the wall. He might have been thinking. It was impossible to tell.

"Potter! Inattention to detail is what brought you here, so please work at listening," said Daphne.

"I am, I am," said Potter.

"Give us a couple of days," said Daphne, addressing both Andromeda and Narcissa.

"Of course," said Andromeda, Narcissa nodding along.

"Good," said Daphne. "Harry?"

"Oh, yes, we'd ought to be going," he said. "Thanks for everything, Andromeda. Narcissa, I guess we'll be seeing you."

The stupidity of his comment, in light of what had gone before, struck Andromeda and Daphne as extraordinarily funny. Both laughed aloud, Potter and Narcissa looking on, puzzled.

Daphne walked ahead of Potter, out to the lane, then turned and walked on. She might have been embarking on a solitary walk for pleasure or exercise. Potter pushed himself to keep up, eventually achieving a position two or three feet behind Daphne, his breathing a rhythmic 'puff-puff-puff.' Daphne made it to wherever her preferred apparition point was, stopped and faced her fiancé.

"Were you going to tell me?" she demanded.

"What?" asked Potter. "There wasn't anything to tell. She stayed at the house after the dissolution of her marriage to Lucius. The Malfoys' wards stopped recognizing her. I told you all of that."

"And? Sharing a bed—that part I don't remember," said Daphne.

"Okay, look, she was hurt. She asked me to hold her. I did. It was a mistake," said Potter. "I didn't know it would end up like that. Before I understood where we were going, we were there. I don't even know if Narcissa meant to. At the beginning."

Daphne stood still, the lane empty except for herself and Potter. She held him, frozen, with the look she gave him.

"I need to think it over," she said. "Us."

"Daphne—" Potter began.

"Please shut your mouth before you get yourself in deeper," Daphne said. "That aside, meaning the you and me part, here is what needs to be done. Narcissa's food, lodging and health needs require your attention. If her Canadian friends know what they are doing, you'll soon be the father of a little Potter-Black witch, sometime in late May. That is a lot of responsibility for one so young and lacking in judgment as yourself. Become prepared for some changes to your bachelor lifestyle."

"Are we still—" Potter tried again.

"You know what, Harry Potter? I don't have an answer to that," said Daphne. "Let's not be overly hasty. I do need some quiet time for thinking right now, so please don't contact me. I'd like you to keep your distance when we are at Hogwarts. People will ask so you have permission to lay it off to my need to stay focused on exam preparation. That will be a good thing for you to try, as well. And now I'm off. I'll see you Monday, across the Great Hall."

Before he could object, plead or protest, Daphne disapparated, leaving Potter standing, by himself, in the lane.

That night, alone in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, Potter reviewed the strange series of events that brought him to the point of being one party to a broken engagement concurrent with the status of a prospective father. When she'd asked him to hold her, he'd allowed Narcissa to slide close to him. His arm seemed to wrap around her of its own accord. He had no intention to do anything further, although cuddling with the sad and distraught Narcissa Malfoy was pleasant. It was when Narcissa laid her hand on his stomach that his thinking changed. Her thumb found the hairs above his navel and stroked them, back and forth. She smelled good, a note of perspiration along with something else he couldn't separate or identify. Holding, smelling, feeling a warm, curvy body pressing against him. He liked his boxers loose and bought accordingly, yet the ones he was wearing got tighter and tighter, until Narcissa's hand slipped under the elastic waistband and gripped.

"Oh, Merlin," he remembered saying.

Time seemed to stop, although, Potter thought, it could not have taken more than five minutes for Narcissa to bring him to readiness, raise her nightgown, take his hand in hers and show him what she needed, slide his boxers down and invite him in.

"Please," she said when he hesitated.

'Merlin! She said please.'

Was she there three days before he left for Hogwarts, or four? It seemed odd that he couldn't remember. However many there were, they were a blur. They were also enough, he admitted, feeling sheepish even though he was alone, in the dark. Potter remembered standing in the kitchen in the townhouse, reading the note Narcissa had left. He heard her, again, just before the first time: 'Please.' Reading her note, he wanted to scream it so she could hear him, knowing at the same time that Narcissa was right.

It was impossible.

Daphne Greengrass knew Harry Potter and Narcissa Black's folly touched too many others for her to count on good manners and discretion. She was engaged to Harry Potter, the hero of the late war against the Dark Lord Voldemort and, informally, the Savior of Magical Britain. It did not matter whether he eschewed the honorifics and puffery, plenty of people saw him that way and read everything printed about Harry Potter. They had granted an exclusive interview to an eager Rita Skeeter who would be every bit as eager to exploit gossip about Harry Potter's love child.

Daphne was determined to keep Harry's daughter, if that was what the child turned out to be, as free from ugly talk as possible. The notion of unworthy gossips spreading salacious stories was infuriating. Daphne thought about the little witch so much she presumed to assign her a name. The Blacks had a preponderance of witches named for flowers, so Daphne had occupied a few idle minutes letting flower names come and go.

'Something simple,' she thought. 'Daisy. Daisy Black.'

Just thinking about Daisy precipitated Daphne's discovery of the way forward for herself, Astoria, Draco and, yes, Harry Potter.

Were she and Potter to remain engaged, followed by marriage in June or July, the additional complication of Potter's child with Narcissa Black must be addressed. Daphne would not allow harm or disadvantage to attach to Harry Potter's daughter, if there was any way she could prevent it. The thought of Potter bedding Narcissa was very unpleasant for Daphne, who at the same time accepted as fact that the child of that match had a good chance of arriving on Earth with staggering potential. Her generation had first-hand experience with the results when such a magical child is mistreated, then grows up into magical psychopathology. Better to manage her emotions and concentrate on keeping Potter, Astoria, Andromeda and Teddy moving together. If Narcissa and Draco could overcome what must be true emotional turmoil and join the rest of her band in submitting to her guidance, so much the better.

Daphne used her weeks of Potter-distancing to work through the negative feelings attaching to her knowledge of his dalliance with Narcissa. She thought of Daisy often. Odd mixes of emotions flowed through her, leaving Daphne grasping for terms to describe what she felt. She still loved Potter, she knew. She did not feel hurt by his adventure. They hadn't become serious until Yule. Now she knew the cause of his depressed state following the September return to Hogwarts. Daphne had to admit she, too, would probably have been depressed had she embarked on a physical relationship only to have to cope with desertion after a few days.

Even so, the progress of her romance with Harry Potter had been stately. Talking across the table at mealtime, Potter's invitation to the Ministry's New Year's Ball, her reciprocal invitation to her family Christmas dinner, there walk along the coast to Penzance, Potter proposing, her acceptance, and the gift of his family heirloom engagement ring. Then she had to find out he had a child on the way with the mother of the wizard who, if he wasn't seriously courting her sister, was doing a damn good job making it look like he was. Narcissa appearing, bearing news of Potter's impending fatherhood was a ripple of some consequence. Properly handled by a skillful witch, it need not become cataclysmic.

Yes, a blip of a complication. So she thought about Daisy. She thought about how to keep her band moving forward together. She thought about how important it was that Daisy have protection from the ill-mannered and a circle of responsible adults to model behavior since she would not have the benefit of a traditional nuclear family. Instead, Daisy could have a mother, a father not married to her mother, a sister-in-law who was also sister-in-law to Daisy's biological father. Daphne heard herself, in an imaginary future conversation, trying to assure young Daisy it wasn't as confusing as it sounded.

When she finished working her way through her own conflicts, Daphne nearly sent an owl to Potter with a message, telling him she would consent to him paying a call on her, since they both knew they had issues to discuss. Then she thought better of it and instead paid a call on the valued mentor whose counsel might be more important than any other resource.

"Andromeda?" she called from across the flower bed. "It's Daphne. Are you home?"

Andromeda and Teddy Lupin were home. Daphne sat at the kitchen table while Andromeda made tea. Teddy, who was walking now, played a made-up game along the lines of tag, involving getting close to Daphne but staying just out of reach, then running away giggling when Daphne reached out to 'get' him.

"What have you been doing?" Andromeda asked as she sat down to her own cup of tea.

"Keeping up with my studies. Thinking," said Daphne. "Considering. Changing my mind now and then."

"Smart girl," Andromeda said, nodding. "You're going to keep him?"

"Absolutely," Daphne said. "He didn't even cheat on me, really, since we weren't anything to one another at the time. That only started later on, during the fall term. Properly led and managed, an alliance of Greengrass with Black and Potter should be well-positioned to thrive, magically, economically and politically. Harry Potter and I will have to be serious about those things right away, leaving aside any ideas of two or three years of living the life of carefree, unencumbered newly-marrieds. In my mind that is a small price to pay."

"So you have your priorities set, including, it sounds to me, strong interest in your prospective step-daughter," said Andromeda.

"Gotcha!" said Daphne, pulling Teddy to her by the tail of his tee-shirt.

"Aieeeeee!" shouted Teddy, relishing the panic before relaxing in cooperation with his capture by Daphne, who hugged him gently while dispensing dozens of smacking kisses.

"I'm ready to invite him to come back, unless you see flaws in my reasoning," said Daphne.

"You're awfully young to be a matriarch," said Andromeda. "By several decades. On the other hand, you do seem to have arrived on the planet primed for the role. Eventually, we all have to clench our teeth and go ahead, just to find out what is going to happen."

Daphne stood, smiling. She kissed Teddy Lupin one more time before putting him down. Then she leaned over and kissed Andromeda on the cheek.

"Thank-you," she said. "We can make this work."

"Let me know what you want me to do," said Andromeda. "Anytime."

"I know," said Daphne. "I won't forget all of this, what you're doing for me and, I guess, all of us."

Daphne initiated a series of private discussions, beginning with Astoria and Draco.

"The important thing to bring out of this messy beginning, it seems to me, is a confident and well-adjusted young witch," she said at one point. "Positive attitudes will be essential. Can I count on you?"

Draco promised to try. Daphne assured him that would be sufficient, although in her heart she had doubts whether the Malfoy Heir could tamp his inclination toward irrational anger at any perceived slight to the family honor. She had to leave that unresolved and trust in her ability to guide her crew through troubled waters.

Daphne asked for, and got, an appointment for a private meeting with her parents. Astoria attended, at Daphne's insistence.

"You must come," said Daphne. "We are in this together. It might be important for them to see us this way. Please bear with me."

"I don't really want to," said Astoria. "It feels like I'm sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong."

"You are," said Daphne. "We both are. It would be much simpler to kick Harry out of our lives and turn our backs on Narcissa. What would that get us? We'd have a permanent fracture, if you and Draco get married. This way we leave a way open for him to have some kind of communication with Narcissa and the little witch, assuming he wants that."

Astoria nodded.

"He might," she said. "Draco's sister, Potter's daughter. Damn!"

"Exactly," said Daphne.

Their parents had seen and experienced a great deal over the previous three or four decades. When they heard about the latest developments they showed a bit of shock. Mostly, they maintained calm exteriors. If there were loud exchanges, the Greengrass daughters were well out of earshot.

"I have to give them credit," said Astoria.

"For?" asked Daphne.

"Neither one seemed worried about what people will say," Astoria replied.

Daphne's thumb and forefinger worried her lower lip for a bit.

"True," she said. "Thanks for noticing. I'm quite proud of them right now."

Daphne made an appointment with Narcissa for a meeting at Grimmauld Place. When she had a firm time, she sent Harry Potter an owl.

"You and I need to see Narcissa," said her note. "Please come by the house and we'll go together."

Potter was very happy for the communication while being a bit leery about Daphne's intent. Not that he believed she intended to do anything violent, he assured himself. He overlooked the nature of Daphne's summons. It was close to bureaucratic, with the scent of a courtroom just below the level needed to induce real trepidation. Potter told himself the worst Daphne was likely to do to him was announce that she had thought it over and the two of them were finished. That was generally survivable, said the received knowledge around the Gryffindor wizards' dorm.

Potter was the owner of #12 Grimmauld Place as well as the head of the House of Black, so he accompanied Daphne on an uneventful floo trip to the townhouse.

"Harry. Daphne," said Narcissa. "Please have a seat. Kreacher—we have guests!"

Potter thanked Narcissa. The hospitality was unexpected. He couldn't say what his expectations were, just that the cordial welcome and offer of refreshment took him by surprise.

"Coffee for me, Kreacher, and Miss Daphne…?"

"The same, Kreacher," she said. "No cream or sugar."

With that, Potter and Narcissa sat, waiting. Neither doubted Daphne had called them together because she had something to say.

"I am prepared to marry you, Harry, and be your partner as you cope with the changed circumstances caused by your—activities—of some months back," Daphne began. "This will mean the three of us, soon to be four, will need to reach an understanding. Perhaps that should be plural. Understandings, regarding a number of things. Objections?"

Potter and Narcissa demurred. No, they agreed, there would have to be some understandings. Certainly.

"Housing," Daphne went on. "This is the London seat of the Blacks. Harry is the chief of the clan. Therefore, Harry should live in the property. We could have put some rooms together here and created an apartment for you, Narcissa, but I believe circumstances now dictate the only proper thing to do is to house you elsewhere. Otherwise we risk turning all our lives into tabloid fodder. Which, I guess, they already are. But worse. Do you have any comments?"

"You aren't thinking of the Shetlands, or the like, are you?" asked Narcissa.

"No, I was thinking of the countryside," said Daphne. "A village or small town. Quiet, healthy, as anonymous as you desire."

Potter looked at Narcissa. She didn't seem overly worried about the prospect of living a villager's life.

"Where?" she asked.

"Harry, what have you got that you could make available? Narcissa, and your daughter, if that is accurate, will need a suitable home. Come up with something," said Daphne.

"Right now?" Potter croaked. "I'll need to talk to my account manager…"

"So you have some things? You know that?" asked Daphne.

"I've seen some parchment…" answered Potter.

Daphne turned to Narcissa.

"He will do the needful," she said. "Now, a name. The Blacks like flower names. Have you settled on anything?"

"Not yet," said Narcissa.

"She isn't here so you have time to think, consult, do research," said Daphne. "Was the baby's father going to get a vote?"

"Hmm. I hadn't thought of that," said Narcissa. "He hasn't been in touch."

"We are in the process of correcting that," Daphne replied. "It is up to you. As I understand these situations. I have been thinking of her as Daisy, just for the convenience. I like the sound of Daisy Black. Not that you have to give me a say on the matter."

Narcissa sat up straight, thinking it over.

"Daisy Black," she said, mostly to herself. "It does have a nice ring, I grant you that. Thank-you, Daphne, I'll consider it."

"Access," said Daphne.

"Here it comes," thought Potter.

"A young person needs to see their parents together," said Daphne. "Unless that generates a violent reaction and I don't see any signs of such here."

A muttering of 'No…Of course not…Civil relations…Best for all concerned…' and the like filled the gap without ever emerging as an actual conversation.

"Good," said Daphne. "Discretion will be in everyone's best interests. The child's and Draco's, Draco's future wife and in-laws. At least until some years have passed and other news is holding the public's attention. I am prepared to grant you one week out of the year for some days as a family. The beach or a hike in the Lake District. If you still can't get control of your animalistic natures, I insist Narcissa take a contraceptive potion. This must be the last instance of unplanned pregnancy. I'm afraid that is not negotiable."

"Ah, Daphne?" asked Narcissa.

"Yes?"

"One week? Might I submit, a month's worth of days, spread out over the year, wouldn't be excessive. By taking the potion, I remove the possibility of further complications. Harry is young and very energetic. I assure you, you won't even miss…"

"Thank-you for your candor in sharing that, Narcissa," interrupted Daphne. "Ten days, spread over the year, and not an hour more."

"Two weeks would be most gracious, Daphne," Narcissa replied, throwing in a slight dip of her head.

"Subject, of course, to Harry's willingness," Daphne replied, eyes narrowed, focused not on Narcissa, but Potter.

"Done," said Narcissa. "Daisy Black. A name like that would make a lovely brand for a line of magical couture. I like it. If we get a witch, she's Daisy Black. With thanks to you for the gracious suggestion."

Potter was under tremendous time pressure right then, so he tasked his Gringotts account manager with the real estate search. Anvil, the manager, was so efficient he found not one, but two suitable dwellings. One was a solid cottage in Norfolk with a view of the sea, an herb garden and a well-proportioned barn constructed of stone. The second was a London flat located in a magical neighborhood. A prestigious magical pre-school was right around the corner. The cost of the two wasn't that much more than Potter had expected to pay for one so he bought the cottage. He negotiated a lease for the flat, including an option to purchase.

Narcissa vacated Grimmauld Place almost immediately, relocating to the flat. Make-ready for her move was a thorough cleaning and engagement of Bill Weasley to visit and use his curse-breaker's skills to ensure there were no residual curses hanging about. That left her free to travel to Norfolk, as long as she was able, hiring and supervising local craftsmen and -women in preparing the cottage to house a witch and her magical baby. Narcissa's mind was working in several dimensions throughout this period, manifesting in an invitation to Astoria and Daphne for a morning in the garden, cutting and tying bunches of sage, lavender, chamomile and other herbs for hanging in the kitchen.

Thus Narcissa cultivated relations with the young witch who appeared to be Draco's choice for a wife as well as the older sister who was emerging as the leader, by consensus, of the accidental family comprising Andromeda Tonks and her grandson, Teddy, Andromeda's sister Narcissa Black, expectant mother-to-be of Harry Potter's firstborn, Astoria Greengrass, who might marry Narcissa's son and further complicate the family tree and Harry Potter, Narcissa's vigorous lover of some months past.

Daphne and Andromeda watched events unfold over the spring and summer months. They agreed the resemblance to the projections and speculations from their numerous prior consultations was uncanny. Daisy Andromeda Black was born at St. Mungo's on the last day of May. Harry and Daphne sat their examinations at the end of term, earning them qualifications in an array of magical disciplines. They married in the garden at Greengrass Manor, Narcissa and Daisy Black looking on from a shady second floor room. They put off their honeymoon due to press of current business, substituting forty-eight hours of seclusion at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place during which Potter attempted to live up to Narcissa's evaluation of his stamina and potential to satisfy a wife with appetites equal to his.

Months passed, then years. The Potters presented Daisy with a baby sister, Iolanthe, for her second birthday, then, two years later, added a baby brother. Astoria and Draco's son came along, nearly in tandem with the youngest Potter-Black, making a total of five young magicals in Daphne's band. Daphne took her leadership responsibilities seriously, working quietly, taking an iron hand/velvet glove approach, ably assisted by the wise and battle-tested Andromeda Tonks.

The children had few adjustment problems except for some difficult years when Daisy found it easy and convenient to act out and complain about her '…second-class status in this so-called FAMILY' which might have been followed by some extra-special treatment from her father, according to one or more of the others. Daisy thought the histrionics were justified, she later explained to Iolanthe, because she had outgrown Pony Club and someone had to step up and get her a proper hunter-jumper. Iolanthe agreed, with some reluctance, that Daisy had a point.

"I think maybe Dad likes Mum Narcissa and Daisy better than the rest of us," Iolanthe confided to Daphne.

It had taken a light touch and some imagination, but Iolanthe had gotten Daphne out and away from the band for some private, mother-daughter time.

"And your reasoning would be…?" asked Daphne.

"Well, Daisy throws a fit and gets whatever she wants. She admits she does it on purpose. Dad has to see it," said Iolanthe.

"You're referring to her horse?"

"Well, DUH. And other things, too," said Iolanthe.

"WAIT-Did you just 'Well, DUH' me, child?" asked a semi-indignant Daphne.

"MUM!" pled Iolanthe. "I don't mean any disrespect! I'm just saying that she is already two years older than me so she will always get to do things first and she's a terrible snob about being the first Black in this generation even though Uncle Draco is a Black because he's Mum Narcissa's just like Daisy and besides, Teddy is one-quarter and he was raised by Auntie Andromeda and uses more magic before noon than Daisy does in a week…"

"Okay, okay, Iolanthe, I get your point, I think," said Daphne. "If you'll work with me and keep conflict to a minimum, I'll find that a big help. First, though, we'll get you an appointment with the chief and you can bring your concerns to him yourself."

"Mum! Can I do that? I mean…" Iolanthe began.

"It was your complaint, wasn't it?" asked Daphne.

"It wasn't all me," said Iolanthe. "Maybe it wasn't a complaint, exactly."

"Noted," said Daphne. "An observation, then? And you and at least one other shared a view of favoritism?"

"Uh…yeah. I guess."

"Then your father needs to hear about it. We're in this together and it's complicated enough without smoldering resentments," said Daphne.

Thus Daphne and Iolanthe began to partner in facing the multiplying issues inherent in living harmoniously with their array of close relatives. Daphne was an intuitive teacher, conversing with her student rather than lecturing. Iolanthe developed similar skills, noticed, eventually by her older sister who made an effort to smooth her own rough edges. Daphne watched, approved and brought Daisy along with words of praise and encouragement. With time, the triumvirate was recognized as the source of wise counsel and guidance for the family group.

Daphne encouraged Potter's daughters to do things together—ride, garden, have lunch. As their mothers aged their mutual support grew in importance. One day, they met for bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches outdoors at Narcissa's cottage.

"Can I get something off my chest?" asked Daisy.

"Of course, something bothering you?" Iolanthe replied.

"I was so envious of you, growing up," Daisy said. "It took me a long time to get over that."

"Really? Why? I was sure Dad gave you everything!" said Iolanthe.

"Dad. You had him all the time. We got two weeks a year. Mum said Mum Daphne made her settle or we'd be exiled," Daisy said. "There's no way a kid can understand that. I don't believe it now, of course. I could come to your house anytime I wanted."

"This is what I heard from Mum," said Iolanthe. "Dad and Mum Narcissa, well, you know, how you were here, before they got married. Mum insisted Dad help with you but she didn't think her marriage would last very long if Dad and Mum Narcissa were left alone, unsupervised. Of course, Mum Narcissa is still very beautiful. Lively, too, unless I can't read the signs."

"She is," Daisy agreed. "Mum Daphne's certainly right. Mum Daphne was the one who made all of our lives work. What are we going to do when they're not here with us?"

Iolanthe couldn't answer, choked up as she was, so she shook her head, slowly, side to side.

By the end of her life, Daphne, the matriarch of the Potter-Black clan of witches and wizards, was the last of the generation that came together in the wreckage following the Second Wizarding War. Narcissa and Andromeda were long gone, followed by Harry, Astoria and Draco. Daphne was determined all her work would not come undone with her death. Mentoring two successors could have ensured disaster as multiple, equally-qualified leaders can mean endless battles for dominance. Fortunately, Harry's last holiday with Narcissa and Daisy took them to Canada, where Daisy met the grandson of the shaman who tutored Draco Malfoy, fell madly in love and got married. Thus, when Daphne died there was no need for conflict, as Daisy and her mate flew off to a safe distance, established a homestead and set about founding a wizarding clan of their own.

The End

Afterword—Brigid, an ancient pre-Christian Irish goddess, may have been a triple deity. The goddess of poetry, one might say her influence continues to this day.