"Daphne Greengrass and the no-good, terrible, very bad years."
Where Daphne's faith in her parents is sorely tried… and she ends up married.
By An Orc, This work is an alternate point of view for 'Not with a half-blood.' Daphne Greengrass would be mortified if anyone read it, so please close the window now.
Chapter Three: Potter tried to kill Daddy!The portkey trip from Paris ended, and Daphne and her mother landed fairly well, on the gravel outside their home, without falling, accompanied by a few trunks of purchases. Including the trunks. Home sweet home. It was early on Friday, and Daphne was looking forward to seeing daddy and Astoria. Well, mostly daddy.
Daphne levitated the trunks, and followed mummy indoors. She shivered, it was colder than Paris.
The house was quiet. Which was odd.
Mummy evidently wanted to know what was going in, as she called Glinkit.
Glinkit appeared with a pop, her little pointy ears wobbling.
"Mistress, Miss Daphne" said Glinkit.
"Glinkit ,where is my husband?" asked mummy.
"Master is in the bathroom." said Glinkit.
"Oh" said mummy, and she patted Daphne on the arm "I'll go see your father, you unpack." and she walked off upstairs, well almost jogged.
Daphne lowered the floating trunks and opened the first one. Ah. That was her stuff.
And the second. And the third was mummy's. She pointed it out to Glinkit "That's mummy's new things" she said. Glinkit clicked her fingers and the trunk vanished.
"I'll get my things Glinkit." said Daphne.
Glinkit nodded "Master is not well." she said.
"What?" asked Daphne. Oh no. Daddy was ill.
"How long as daddy been ill?" asked Daphne, worried., though mummy was probably there by now.
"CYRUS!" mummy shouted angrily.
Daphne looked at Glinkit "You'd better go help" said Daphne. Glinkit vanished with a pop.
Daphne levitated up her trunks of french clothes, shoes, hats… things really, and walked upstairs to her room,
Mummy was yelling at daddy from their room.
"You Stink of alcohol, and you're barely conscious. You… you… booze hound!" mummy yelled in Hungarian.
Daphne's stomach hurt. Daddy never overindulged in drink, and …. mummy was very cross. She normally yelled in English, or maybe German. Daddy's grasp on Hungarian was… well he could say hello and goodbye. He might not even understand that rant. Odd.
She unpacked, seriously considering casting a silencing charm. Mummy had gone quiet.
Daphne had finished putting everything in her wardrobe and dresser, except her new shoes and hats then mummy came into her room. Daphne spun around.
"Mummy"? Daphne asked. Mummy had her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she was standing very tensely.
"Your betrothed nearly killed my poor Cyrus" said mummy.
Daphne had a sudden horrific vision of Potter, cruel powerful Potter casting who knew what horrible curses on daddy. Well… the Carrows had made everyone cast the torture curse on anyone with a detention, and mouthy Gryffindors and mouthy Hufflepuffs, and mouthy Ravenclaws. Practically anyone that didn't toe the Carrow's Dark Lord worshipping line really. Daphne imagined Potter casting the torture curse on poor daddy, then imperious curing him to drink himself nearly to death. She closed her eyes. He really was the worst person ever. And everyone lauded him as a great hero. Professor Snape had been right all along.
"Your father still can't talk coherently." said mummy "And he's been sick many times, so I don't dare give him a sobering potion."
Daphne filed away that medical tip. Best to give sobering potions before getting very sick. She really wished she'd done advanced potions. Mummy had been quietly disappointed in her, but she only got an A in OWL potions. Professor Snape had betrayed every in Slytherin by marking their work up, then you sat WEA examinations and he wasn't there to change your marks.
"When he comes at two for his dance lesson, you can find out what he did to Cyrus" said mummy "I'll keep an eye on him. Have you seen your sister?"
Daphne hadn't seen or heard her. "Gli – "
Mummy shook her hand at Daphne "She's keeping watch on your father, but the poor dear' she's not slept much. Can you go find your sister? Well, once you're done unpacking."
Daphne nodded, and hurriedly un-packing-charmed the last trunk, and concentrating hard, packing charmed the shoes into her wardrobe, and then the hats on top of some of her older hats, hanging around the room. The french ones were much cuter anyway.
Then she sat off for her sisters room. The door was closed. Daphne knocked loudly, and waited. She'd rushed in once, and swore never to do so again. There was no reply.
She cast a quick 'hominum revelio' and it felt like there was nobody in there. She tried the door-handle; locked. A quick unlocking charm didn't open it, so Daphne used a far slower version of an unlocking charm Lils had taught her, that beat most normal counters. The door clicked and swung open. Astoria's bed was a mess, and the drawers of her tallboy were open. She's taken, Daphne guessed socks, underwear and a robe. Though her sisters' wardrobe was so packed with gifts from Malfoy it was hard to tell if anything was missing. That gave Daphne a horrible suspicion. She rather naughtily apparated to the kitchen, where a meal was sitting, cooling off from being under one of Glinkit's preservation charms. Which was odd, as it was a meal for three, and there was only a little taken from the small roast. Daphne checked the peas. Untouched. The gravy had lines in it, as if someone had taken potatoes for a swim. And the pile of roasted potatoes wasn't even. The most telling sign was that the dessert platter was almost empty, with only a few chocolatey smears left. Astoria, Daphne suspected had been here in the kitchen, after dinner was supposed to happen, and picked at the roast, eaten potatoes and gravy, then scoffed all the dessert. While daddy was being tortured by Potter. She narrowed her eyes. Potter's life was going to be hell, if she could arrange it.
She flooed over to Tracey's house to see her. Tracey's mum walked past her in the front hall in her healers robes and waved tiredly. "Daphne" she said. "Mrs Davis" said Daphne politely.
"Tracey might be in her room" said her mum, and yawned. "Just got off shift" she staggered off. "Use contraception" she yelled as she headed into the kitchen.
Daphne shivered, and went upstairs to the bedrooms, and knocked on Tracey's door.
"Bog off" yelled Tracey from in her room.
"It's me dickhead" said Daphne loudly into the door.
"Bog off Daphne" yelled Tracey from inside.
Daphne nodded, and opened the door. Tracey was lying in bed, in her green pyjamas with muggle racing cars on them, half wrapped in her duvet.
"You look well" said Tracey.
"Any idea where my sister is?" asked Daphne.
"huh?"
"Did Malfoy get released from custody, for example?" asked Daphne.
"Uh. Dunno" said Tracey "There's a new Martin muggs comic."
"Are you twelve?"
"Well, I don't see the point in reading the Daily Prophet. Half the headlines are about you or Potter or his friends anyway. I figure I could ask you."
"I've been in France for two weeks getting my dress started" said Daphne.
"And?"
"A little shopping."
"Two weeks?"
Daphne explained about getting discount goods and free meals and entertainment. Tracey grimaced.
"This is totally unfair. An all expenses paid holiday, with shopping and you didn't take me. And you get to shag Harry Potter. You're just spoiled." said Tracey.
"As if" said Daphne "He tried to kill daddy."
"What?" said Tracey, sitting up, and shoving something Daphne definitely didn't see that definitely didn't look like a thingy under her pillow, and getting out of bed. "Just gonna wash up" said Tracey. Tracey spent a minute in her en-suite bathroom – spoilt cow, she didn't have to share with her sister, and came back, and grabbed some clothes, stripped and dressed "Right" she said "Dad files the prophet in date order by the kitchen fireplace."
"He is such a dork" said Daphne.
"Hey… easy. If yours dies we're down to one father figure." said Tracey, and she stumbled downstairs, into the kitchen and kissed her mother's hair. "Ew mum you stink" and rummaged in the pile of newspapers.
Daphne walked in and watched Tracey rummage and Mrs Davis sip some kind of herbal tea.
"Daphne" said Tracey's mum again. "How was Paris?"
"Spoilt cow got discount priced clothes and free meals." said Tracey, not looking up from the newspapers.
"Stores sent us visiting cards and gave us discounts. The reporters followed us everywhere, and everything I did was in the newspaper, or french Teen Witch Weekly." explained Daphne.
"Your Aunt Laverne says Teen Witch Weekly will re-run the French articles once they've rewritten them of the English market" said Tracey mother quietly.
"I've got all three issues. They comped them to us" said Daphne.
"In French, not much use" said Tracey. "Not everyone's bilingual."
Tracey's mum yawned "What are you looking for dear?"
"Did Draco Malfoy get released from the DMLE?" asked Tracey.
"Not as far as I recall" said her mum, who stood up and waved "Sorry girls. My bed calls. See you at dinner." She staggered off, stopping at the door "And use contraception" she said, and left.
"She does go on" said Tracey.
"She's concerned for you" said Daphne.
"That was aimed at you," said Tracey.
"Well I never!" exclaimed Daphne.
"You should. It's nice." said Tracey idly.
Daphne took a Daily prophet from the pile Tracey was ruining, and checked the headlines. Apparently the prisoners of Azkaban who were put there as political prisoners were going to get compensation, funded by fines on convicted Death Eater's estates. That, thought Daphne would be unpopular. A moment later, she read the description of the new fines and realised Tori would be funding quite a bit of it. Three Death Eaters, three fines from the Malfoy Estate. It didn't really matter though, she'd still end up very rich.
Potter had been spotted a few days ago… buying food. Who would have guessed.
All in all, nothing interesting had happened. Tracey chortled. "Oh you" she said. "Having an affair."
Daphne took the offered paper with reservations. It was a bad copy of the article about the annoying fellow at the opera. Someone at the Daily Prophet, thought Daphne, had read the article in Le Monde Magique and cribbed it, and copied the photo badly. It was a little blurry.
"That's nonsense. He was annoying, but he did explain the opera to mummy and I" said Daphne.
Tracey struck what she clearly thought was comedy gold, and found four more of Daphne's 'Indiscretions.'
"Oh you do get around, you hussy." said Tracey.
"Talk to someone, next day, I'm with him. It was very annoying. There's a great one about mummy. She's doing all sorts of bad things." said Daphne. It had been very amusing; she'd kept reassuring daddy, so there was no problem there. Just with daddy's current state.
"Your mum?" said Tracey, lifting her eyebrows.
"Mistress to several important people, running a dark coven, and I don't remember the other ones" said Daphne, deadpan. Tracey was on the floor giggling. "Stop" she said weakly. "That's insane."
"Well. She did yell at daddy today" admitted Daphne. Tracey sat up "What?"
"Potter got daddy absolutely disgustingly smashed. He's still incoherent, and apparently being sick and smells." said Daphne "Before Mummy worked out what was going on, she gave him a stern talking to… in Hungarian. I've never heard her do that before."
"So… Potter poisoned your dad?" asked Tracey "That's… I had this idea that he was all noble and shit. What with deciding to keep you instead of … of that."
"I'm going to ruin his life" said Daphne quietly. Not that I'm sure how, but I will.
"Um" said Tracey "Maybe question first, ruin life later. It might be some sort of mistake. Does your dad have any weird allergies?"
"Not that I know of. Where could Astoria be?" asked Daphne.
"Well, was she home last night?"
"She came home after dinner and ate all the dessert." said Daphne.
"What?"
"It's weird, dinner was waiting in the kitchen. Potter might have brought food…. That would account for the poisoning, I suppose." said Daphne.
"All the dessert?" asked Tracey.
"Some chocolate thing on a big plate. Pigstoria ate the lot." said Daphne.
"There was a massive chocolate dessert at your house. Shit. I should have gone to check on… your… horse. Yes. On your horse." said Tracey.
"You don't even like Buttercup." said Daphne.
"But… I'm such a good friend, I'd do it anyway." said Tracey.
"The dessert is gone. You don't need to pretend to care" said Daphne depressively. Tracey enveloped her in a hug.
"Hey" said Tracey "you're my best friend. I know things have gone sideways a bit… for the last several years, and then Hagrid danced past in a pink tutu, and you ended up with Potter, but he can't be that bad. Can he?"
Daphne sighed and said into Tracey's not that clean hair "He's arrogant and callous, and really doesn't care about me."
"He cared enough to give up Weaslette's arse for you" said Tracey.
"His speech about that was really weird." admitted Daphne "I don't understand how he thinks."
"If it's any consolation Daph" said Tracey "I don't understand how you think either. And Potter, he's just a good quidditch player who happens to be good-looking and tall, and for some flukish reason, super famous."
Daphne growled.
"Well one day you'll be his wife" said Tracey, but she was still hugging Daphne, who might have nuzzled into the hug a bit. After all Tracey was basically the sister she grew up with while Tori – . Daphne clamped down hard on that line of thinking and nuzzled her slightly whiffy friend. One takes hugs where one can, after all.
"Some time in February" admitted Daphne into Tracey's hair. Which really was starting to get up her nose.
"Well, is the dress going to be nice?"
"I think so" said Daphne. She considered explaining about the dress having a waist… french lingerie. She settled for saying "My dressmaker insisted I get new shoes and wedding lingerie."
"Is it sexy?" asked Tracey. Daphne let go of Tracey and blushed quietly.
"Duh" she finally said. The whole issue of her wedding was … well it was… it should be emotionally charged, full of pent up desire, love and longing. As it was… Potter was poisoning poor daddy.
"Can I borrow it?" asked Tracey.
"No you may not" said Daphne. It's mine, and it was tailored to fit."
"So" said Tracey and she held out her hands mimicking quaffles down her dress.
"No" said Daphne indignantly. "I admit… they're pushed up a bit from my usual – "
"Depressingly awful unflattering bra" Tracey interrupted.
"Well, there's photos in Teen Witch Weekly of me in a better bra and an evening dress." said Daphne and she blushed, because Tracey would want to see. Like an Auror on a case.
Tracey frowned "I need to see that. Do you actually look hot?"
Daphne couldn't speak from embarrassment.
"Crikey you're so pink. Did you get caught with your knickers showing or something?"
Daphne rolled her eyes. "It was very flattering photo and mummy says the photo was … doctored"
"Cor" said Tracey "I need to see that!" and she stood up from the newspaper pile, lazily flicked her wand at the mess, which folded back into neat newspapers and slid back into the pile, and Tracey was off, headed for the main fireplace and the floo powder.
"How can someone so casual have such a fussy packing charm" complained Daphne, as she follwoed Tracey to the fireplace.
"Natural talent" said Tracey, throwing floo powder in the fire, yelling out "Greengrass estate!" and jumping in. Daphne followed a sensible interval later.
Tracey was waiting, bouncing up and down on her toes "Where is it huh?"
"My room" said Daphne, and apparated there before Tracey could ransack all her stuff.
Tracey appeared next to the bedroom door with a crack. "Safe as" she said "I knew you wouldn't be here by the door. Show me?"
Daphne found the magazine and handed it to her "It's about halfway through." she said, and faced away, blushing.
Tracey looked at the magazine "You're in the cover." she said. "My friend, my best friend is on the cover of Teen Witch weekly. Cute hat."
"It's great" admitted Daphne "But I got this other one that's good too."
"Can I borrow it?"
"The one in the photo, yes. Buy you need to wash your hair first." said Daphne.
"I was in a hurry to see my best friends the international celebrity" said Tracey sarcastically, flicking through the magazine.
Then Tracey choked out "Holy hell! That's you… crikey. Most beautiful Teen Witch? You scrub up luv."
"Mummy says the photos' doctored" squeaked Daphne.
"You've got a waist? When did you get a waist?"
"Oh shut up" said Daphne.
"Go on, put that outfit on. We'll see how fake the photo is."
"My hair took ages." complained Daphne.
"One measly Clip" said Tracy "It'd look less contrived."
Daphne rummaged in her knicker drawer and found the french set she'd worn to the opera, and then dug out the heels and the dress.
"What the hell are those?" asked Tracey, pointing at the french set "Since when do you have lingerie? Is that your wedding set."
"Um… this is my um… set the fitter insisted I had to have." said Daphne feeling her cheeks heating up again. Thank Morgana for foundation.
"So where's the wedding set?"
"No"
"Go on" said Tracey.
"NO!" said Daphne indignantly. "It's for my wedding. I'm not showing you, it's … it's too embarrassing."
"Cor. Potter's a lucky sod" said Tracey.
"He's going to suffer for what he did to daddy" said Daphne firmly.
"Get changed."
"Not with you in the room."
"Go on. I've seen the photo. You can't be much naked-er than that." said Tracey, and Daphne rather doubted that. She looked a lot more naked-er in the french set, and the wedding set was… well it was indecent.
"Don't look" said Daphne. Tracey obligingly turned her back and whistled, intentionally off-key as Daphne got out of her clothes and into her opera-going ensemble, and clipped her hair back. She checked herself in the mirror. Her makeup was… well it was okay. She clambered into the five inch high-heels.
"Okay, I'm ready" said Daphne, and Tracey turned around and stared.
"What?" said Tracey. "How tight's the corset?"
"I'm fine" said Daphne. As if. The bustier makes a miles more intimidating figure.
"Whatever you do" said Tracey "Do not let Sally see that. Hell… I'd bet Potter would just drool. Your family really aren't part Veela?" Tracey joked.
"Not quite what's in the photo" said Daphne.
"Well.. walk around. Does it swish?" Daphne nodded, it did indeed swhish and frankly the urge to show off the way it swished overcame Daphne's shyness.
Daphne kicked off and swayed across her bedroom a bit.
"So um… you need to practice in the heels" said Tracey "And do not come to my wedding wearing that."
"Who are you getting married to?" asked Daphne, astonished. Tracey was a super-dark horse! "You didn't say!"
"When I do… don't wear that." said Tracey. "Wear the sort of unflattering bullshit you usually wear."
"You're really pretty Tracey. You know you are." said Daphne.
"That's more soothing when you're not all tit and bum, with a corset on" said Tracey. "You're like your mum!"
"Uh. She's my mum" said Daphne. A cause for embarrassment for Daphne as a tween, and unflattering robes for Daphne as a teenager.
"And a natural blonde" said Tracey "You… that bloody crank diet. You've stuck to it?"
"Um mostly yes." said Daphne, biting her lip.
"And… well. I'm betting you've got like… four children by the time you're twenty-seven. Potter will be all over you once you um… fill out a little more. Like your mum."
"Mum's nearly fifty" said Daphne. And mummy only had two. Daphne was… well she was trying not to think about the mechanics of having a Greengrass heir but it was just the one, and she could wait a long time. Decades.
"Well yes, and also… Blaise's mum had the boys wanking. But they all thought your mum was a bit of all right. Well… Blasie's mum, Mrs Malfoy, your mum in that order." said Tracy. And that was the sort of annoyingly graphic thing you had to put up sometimes with when Tracey was your best friend, thought Daphne.
"I don't want to know how you found that out." said Daphne.
"Duh, I hid under a bed and eavesdropped. You've got a dirty mind, Daphne Greengrass… and the arse to go with it." said Tracey.
Daphne blushed. Tracey was so… blunt about sex and stuff. As bad as mummy really.
"The Patils took out best bums, then Weasley. You… you didn't even compete by dressing like a frump."
Daphne summoned up all her confidence and asked "Do you think I look prettier than Ginny Weasley?" She twirled – not quite falling over in the bloody heels.
"I dunno. You're… bloody hell. Never go to anything dressed up next to me If I'm trying to pull."
"I'm married in February," said Daphne sourly.
"Well… just don't." said Tracey. "Are you going to question Potter dressed like that?"
"No!" said Daphne "I'm not wearing this. It's evening wear, and I'm not going to stuff with him." Not ever, thought Daphne. Possibly not living alone in a ruin, but not dining out and going to shows. Going anywhere public now was an ordeal with the bloody reporters.
"Get changed into your unappealing sack then" said Tracy, and she turned her back and crossed her arms "Bloody best friends who've got waists. Everyone thought you were apple shaped."
Daphne considered complaining that just because you're from Appleby doesn't mean you're apple-shaped, but let it slide, and stripped off the dress and caught her reflection in the mirror. The lingerie made her look much more adult than she felt. She got out of it and into what she'd been wearing with a sense of relief, of coming home. "I'm changed"
Tracey turned and eyed the french set on her bed "Can I borrow those?" she asked.
Daphne rolled her eyes "They fit me. Not you."
"You're saying you've got bigger boobs?"
"No. I'm saying the waist fit was a bugger" said Daphne. "They're custom altered to fit me. We're not the same shape."
"Pity" said Tracey "I'd get heaps more dates."
"Oh shut up. You're pretty and your hairs naturally wavy. Mine's … mouse brown and sits flat." said Daphne.
"True. Your hair unbleached is… I vaguely remember it being crap" said Tracey unkindly. "Where's the corset?"
Daphne tried to look innocent. But felt her face blushing.
"Oh my god, you're wearing it to … you're going to rock a really narrow waist in your dress?"
"Sort of" admitted Daphne. It was sort of true. Inasmuch as there was technically no corset, just a bustiere and years of crank diets on top of looking a bit like mummy.
"Well, he might be able to throw off the imperious curse, but I think he'll find Teen Witch Weekly's most beautiful teen witch alive harder to ignore." said Tracey.
"I don't really want to… you know" admitted Daphne. And suspected Tracey was going to tease her about that article for years to come. Well… until she turned twenty, at least.
"Look, any time you want to get your own way, you just slip into that, and he'll agree to anything. Bet you." said Tracey.
Daddy was able to sit up in bed by lunchtime, though he was dreadfully pale and shakey. His headache was apparently so bad he just wanted to sit in the dark and … wish he was dead.
Daphne ate lunch, changed into a chic little blue dress and tried to read that muggle studies book while she waited.
Mummy apparated into the hallway.
"Your father claims they talked over drinks" said mummy "But saying that made him vomit. It's possible Potter merely led your father into… excesses." Mummy disapparated off with a loud crack.
Potter stepped out of the fireplace a minute late, looking off-colour. His hair resembled a rooks nest, painted black. He staggered and caught the mantel, and somehow ended up not falling, but his legs were akimbo briefly.
"Hello" he croaked.
"What did you do to father?" Daphne asked, fairly sure the answer was 'drank too much'.
"Dinner yesterday, we… drank firewhiskey and talked" said Potter, sitting down heavily. He shut his eyes and shuddered.
"Father's very ill" said Daphne "Mother's never seen him like this. Was it something you ate yesterday?"
"We um… didn't get around to eating" admitted Potter "We did drink a lot."
"So you got drunk with my father and bonded, is that it?" asked Daphne.
"Not really" admitted Potter "My memory's a bit hazy, I remember he was worried… worried I'd hurt you, or frighten you"
"Father's worried about me?" asked Daphne, feeling a surge of love for daddy, who was prepared to … well attempt to reign in someone as dangerous as Potter.
"I tried to reassure him" said Potter "I don't want to be a bully, and my cousin used to hit me, I'd never want that for anyone. Saving people."
Daphne was a bit surprised at his dismal cousin, but … was he really that bloody self-effacing? He had dropped his girlfriend to save her from… social death. Maybe he was? He um… he's admitted he would sacrifice himself for anyone... even Daphne Greengrass. Good Godric.
"I would go straight to the hit-wizards, and I trust you anyway" said Daphne, trying to show Potter she would brook no abuse whatsoever.
"Narcissa's being tried next week" said Potter "Draco afterwards." He said that oddly neutrally, and he wasn't sprawling and bragging… and didn't smirk. He seemed… more disappointed than angry. And very hung-over.
"Astoria is very concerned. She likes the … pillock" said Daphne using Harry's word for Draco.
Potter nodded slightly, then closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and said "Well, on a lighter note, I've learnt six more plays. I got a gramophone and some records and a book and wrote some plays out. Still need to practice with you. I've been using a training dummy." And Potter opened his eyes and looked at Daphne. He was, she realised quite bloodshot. And looked… quite ill.
Daphne was rather impressed with the self-training though. That was real initiative. Actually making an effort at something, when they could easily get by at the wedding with just one waltz. He deserved some praise. Some sarcasm – he liked that. "A dummy" said Daphne, and raised one eyebrow "I might take offence."
"It's a duelling dummy without movement charms, on castors" said Harry hurriedly.
That actually sounded… quite clever. But… that reminded her. His supposedly amazing spell power. Everyone would want to know, so it behoved her to find out. If only to shut up nosey acquaintances. Though, probably not reporters. They were like flies, not dogs.
"Oh, that reminds me, show me what you can do to a duelling dummy." said Daphne. Potter stood up, so Daphne led him downstairs into the basement, along the hallway, around the corner, past the wine-cellar, through a steel door into the last basement room, the one with the training dummies.
"Well, show me what you can do?" Daphne said. "There are all kinds of silly stories going around about you." She suspected he was probably quite good, verging on an Outstanding at NEWT level. He'd been good in fourth year Defence, and she hadn't done it past OWLs, what with Madam Umbridge.
Potter drew his wand and hit a dummy with a pink coloured blasting curse. It smashed backwards, crunching off the wall behind it.
"Funny coloured blasting curse" commented Daphne. Potter shrugged and flicked his wand out, and hit the second dummy with some dark curse that exploded the dummy into matchsticks, with a massive thunderclap.
Daphne could barely hear, and there were tiny flakes of wood floating in the air.
Finally, Potter cast a some strange overpowered curse at the third Dummy; a channel of destruction tore up the floor in front of the dummy, turned the dummy into kindling and ripped a hole in the brick wall behind.
"My ears hurt" said Daphne, and her voice was oddly muted and rang. She could still hear a ringing sound, and brick dust filled the air.
Potter cracked his back and waved his wand in a strange pattern, and the destroyed brickwork collapsed inwards, and the brick dust was sucked into the wall. Moments later the wall was almost as it had been. Then he cast the spell, probably the same one again, and the floor reformed to be undamaged, the stones unshattered.
The only evidence of his spells was the three mangled dummies... well one and two piles of splinters. He fired off a strange spell, all jagged wand motions, and the mangled dummy jumped up, reformed and rattled onto its feet. Daphne swallowed with difficulty. Potter had… he'd utterly destroyed the wall and the floor, and now it was… pretty nearly as if he never had. And the mangled dummy. Amazing. Except Potter somehow made the second pile of wood-chips condense into a training dummy. One that looked battered… but it had been splinters a minute ago. The second pile of splinters Potter jabbed his wand at, and as Daphne was starting to expect, it reformed into a training dummy. One with many splinters missing, but it was astonishing. Potter could do that as well as a teacher. Though she doubted anyone but the late Headmaster Dumbledore could casually blow a dummy to splinters and destroy a flagstone floor all in once cast. Come to think of it, Potter had beaten the Dark Lord with… supposedly with a disarming charm and some clever words.
Potter put his wand away. The training room looked almost the same. A little more battered... but Potter had utterly destroyed it, then put it back. He didn't even look proud. In fact, he still looked seedy. Daphne put her hands on her hips "Nobody would believe me" she said, louder, so her voice sounded right. She scarcely believed herself. And… 'Shack' would do what he asked. Potter, could, she realised have killed her family and blamed the Death Eaters, and nobody would have cared. And yet… he hadn't. He didn't ever want to be a bully, and was prepared to… stay his hand, to 'politely coexist.' He was, she realised, possibly kinder than people thought. Her eyes watered. It was the dust, she was sure. Or fear.
Potter shrugged "I hit a magical snake with the blasting curse in the last battle. It bounced off and hit a group of death eaters, I think. I was concentrating on Voldemort. Anyone that was watching has seen it." The implication was clear, if you had been out on our side, you'd have seen this. And that if you'd been fighting with the Death Eaters… you might have died of it. And… he wasn't threatening her, not a single snide look. He… he wasn't going to use the power he had to defend his happiness.
That wasn't the most ridiculous thing Potter was supposed to have done though. So Daphne asked, after all, people in the common room had laughed at the unbelievable story. "There's a story you cast a massive Patronus and repelled, like every Dementor at Hogwarts" asked Daphne, tilting her head. This would be impressive, Patronuses were amazing.
Potter snapped his wand out in a jab, and cast quite clearly 'expceto patronum'. A jet of silver smoke shot out of his wand like a ghostly Fumos, and formed a silvery, glowing stag floating a foot off the ground, which breathed silver smoke and stood, looking around as if on guard, snorting silver clouds and pawing the smoke just above the floor.
"That Patronus" said Potter as if he was saying 'It's raining,' "Called Prongs, looks just like my father's animagus form."
With a flick of his wand, the silver stag snuffled Daphne, and it tingled, instead of feeling cold and awful like a ghost. "It feels tingly" said Daphne curiously "Not cold like a ghost." The stag continued to snuffle her like a friendly horse getting to know her, and Daphne felt the oddest sensation, of being safe, of being protected. People said Patronuses were protective charms but… this stag felt like being in the hands of a caring giant. Daphne swallowed awkwardly and looked over at Potter, who cocked his head.
"You can send messages with them too. They're faster than an owl, but you can only send a small speech. And of course, it's hard charm to cast." volunteered Potter "Dumbledore's Army all learnt it in my sixth year." he added casually. Daphne felt… that might be a snub at Professor Snape. And at her, but… she knew she was hopeless at Defence.
"You really did teach a secret defence class?" asked Daphne. Pansy had said he did in fifth year. They caught him.
"Two years, it was that or fail OWLS and then loose the war" said Potter, as if that was nothing.
"Well the rest of us had to make do with tutors" said Daphne. Potter shook his head. Daphne had no idea what he was thinking. But the lingering tingling of the stag was… well one might ask one's husband to cast that charm on occasion. It was nice. Like a hug but not awkward, and she would have to explain forcibly to Tracey, not sexual in the least. And for some strange reason she felt like she was tasting nutmeg, or possibly cinnamon. Probably the wood dust from the dummies.
"How was Paris?" asked Potter, in an almost intelligent segue.
Daphne felt that was a reasonable question, and started to explain, leaving out the discounts and free meals, to er, conceal their huge over-shopping. A pensive Daphne led Potter back upstairs to the ballroom.
They practised some plays, and Potter could… in a contrived way sort of dance. A few dances later mummy arrived and stopped the music, which was just as well as Daphne was a little out of breath.
"What, Mister Potter, did you get up to with my husband?" asked mummy.
"We um, talked and drank firewhiskey" said Potter.
"Before or after dinner?" asked mummy, who'd surely seen the uneaten dinners. Mummy was questioning Potter the way she questioned her, or Astoria, when she knew you'd done wrong and wanted you to admit to it.
"Harry and Father drank instead of eating" said Daphne primly. It was nice to snitch for once.
Mummy glared at Potter. Her strongest glare, thought Daphne. Potter stood … unbent by it.
"I've never drunk that much in my life" admitted Potter. "Maybe twice as much as at Bill's stag party." Daphne had no idea who Bill was, but the depravity implied… well there would be none of that, if Daphne had any say in it. She wondered at that point. Do I have any say in that? There was no obvious answer, and their non-relationship had no levers. Probably not.
Mummy left, and Daphne decided to see more of the new dancing plays, even if it meant holding the plays in her teeth. Several hours later, Daphne was tired and wanted to eat, so she stopped the music and walked to the fireplace. Potter left silently, though… he'd done quite well. There was dinner for her under a charm in the kitchen.
Daphne ate then went looking for her mother. She found her sister lying on the drawing room sofa.
"Astoria?" asked Daphne.
"S'my name don't wear it out" said Tori.
"Where've you been?"
"Flora and Hestia's place" said Tori "They were hungry, I took chocolate cake and stuff."
"Oh" so she hadn't been a complete pig. "Are you all right?"
"High" said Astoria.
"What!"
"Billywig venom. It's great" said Tori and she giggled. Oh dear god Tori was taking drugs.
-==0==-
She and Potter found a routine of a sort. Daphne rides Buttercup in the morning, curries her, then does tenant management till lunch, the afternoon dancing lessons, more practice than lessons now, and in the evenings she visits friends; some of them have jobs now. Potter's… he's growing comfortable with dancing, thought Daphne still has to bite the parchment to refresh his memory of some dances. While he's adequate, she feels no urge to tango with him. He is very good at not being grabby, or ogling. Or maybe he finds her unattractive. Despite that, a week passes and mummy has words.
"Daphne dalhlink you need to practice in heels. Your wedding shoes are very tall, and you wear low heels." Mummy lifts her eyebrows.
Daphne picks out a five-inch pair that are the least pinchy, even if they don't completely match her 'sacklike' dress. Daphne decides apparating in heels is not a thing and walks unsteadily down to the front hall to wait, and sits, legs crossed. The shoes look good, she has to admit.
Mummy comes past. "The dress will not do. The blue one dahlink."
Daphne at least has the banister to help her up the stairs, and she puts on the blue dress. It does bring out her eyes, and well… she does look quite good. Not that she's going to dress up for Potter. But... one has to practice the way one will hunt, as mummy says. And in this case, it's not falling over when dancing in heels at her wedding.
She goes back downstairs slowly – the dress has a better lining and is a little lighter, which will probably help her not be a sweaty mess by five o'clock. Potter's shirts get wet, and he smells… sweaty and a bit… large-animal-ish.
Daphne settles into the couch to wait for Potter. Tender mercies, she thinks that he doesn't have B.O. Of course a good cologne would be nice to smell instead. She makes a little headway on the textbook,'Muggles, their lives and tools' while she waits. Zeppelins sound interesting. Muggles making flying ships.
He arrives in a half-robe again, and walks over. Daphne stands up, not staggering at all, and looks at Potter from much higher up. He's got a slight frown.
"I need to learn to dance in heels." said Daphne curtly, and led him off to the ballroom, and her heels clip clop on the floors. Potters' softer soles are probably following.
Daphne puts a basic waltz on the gramophone and starts it. She's the beginner now, she thinks, as her toes are a little sore already.
She steadies herself on the side of the gramophone cabinet, and then walks halfway to Potter, who's looking blankly at her.
"It's a box waltz Potter. You know this" she snaps, and Potter takes a deep breath then gingerly holds her, and Daphne leads backwards. Withing a minute, she totters on the stupid heels and has to grab Potter's tricep firmly or fall over. His hand steadies her, and at nearly eye-level, his face is more expressive. He frowns slightly "You all right?"
"I'm learning" she snapped.
They get to a lift, and Potter has her airborne, spins on his feet, and she's touching the ground, but her right ankle, curse those heels twists and she winces in pain, landing on the floor.
"You all right?" he asks. Like a talking dog.
"Turned my ankle" Daphne replied, drew her wand from her sleeve and cast the turned-ankle charm in her throbbing right ankle. It stopped throbbing, and was only a little stiff when she wiggled it.
"What?" asked Potter
"Turned ankle charm" says Daphne dismissively, and she sighed "It's just part of wearing high heels." And she clambered to her feet, which is difficult to do wearing these stupid shoes without flashing her knees. Potter was no help.
Potter makes some sort of head motion out of the corner of her eye, and Daphne clip-clops alone, thank-you-very-much to the gramophone and turns the speed down a bit, and they recommence.
Potter's… looking at her as they dance. Which is good form really.
By five, when he leaves, he's looking a bit glassy-eyed. Daphne suspects he's taking potions, or maybe even small doses of billywig venom. Daphne clambered upstairs, kicks off the shoes of torture, strips off, the dress has a damp back – and into her bathrobe, goes to have a hot bath.
The next day, Potter's edgy. After a week of practising in heels, and mummy insisting she wear them all day as practice, Daphne can do most dances in high heels without looking like a complete berk. Potter, on the other hand, looks more brainless than ever, and is bloody well staring at her. Though his hands stay put, so there's that.
Mummy confronts Potter on Friday at five pm.
"When will Daphne be shown your house?" asked mummy.
"Um" said Potter. "Um… tomorrow?" Mummy frowned in a way Daphne knows from room inspections in the past. She's obviously thinking his house needs eight hours of tidying to look respectable.
"Nine am" says mummy. Potter nodded and left, ashen.
Once Potter leaves, Daphne raises Potter's bad behaviour to mummy.
"He's staring at me" Daphne complains.
"Daphne dahlink, he's not blind, and you look gorgeous." says mummy. Daphne purses her lips at this. She reserves gorgeous for her evening dress and ensemble, and obviously the wedding dress , which, based on the early fittings is going to… well she looks a lot more sexy in that than she ever feels. Still, his house should be interesting.
Mummy explains the floor-plan of Potter's house over dinner to everyone.
-==0==-
Daphne and mummy floo to 'Number Twelve Grimmauld place.' The fireplace let them out into a cavernous kitchen, lit by a few gas lamps, that looks like it was last renovated two hundred years ago. There's a cracked black and white chess-board stone floor, a very long table and piles of mismatched dining chairs, a black stove that's skulking at one end of the room, and the walls are lined with welsh dressers, loaded with porcelain and cups. The ceiling is covered in hanging tools, pans, pots, boxes of unknowable purpose. In a word, it's a dump, and it reeks of mould and rot. What little wall is visible between and behind dressers has grimy whitewash on it.
Potter's standing by the table in… a muggle shirt and blue denim trousers. His hair's messier than usual.
"Get rid of the junk" said Daphne bluntly. Mummy looked around with her fingers twitching; she's tempted to start vanishing things. Daphne looked at Potter again; could it be that he's actually 'made an effort' when visiting? Is this how he… exists? It's not living.
Potter took them on a guided tour; and moments after they arrive in the front hall a painting, partly covered in velvet curtains starts yelling at him. "Filthy half-blood..."
Mummy pulls out her wand and silences the painting with a tricky silent charm. "That will not do. Remove it." says Mummy. Daphne's impressed mummy knows a spell to silence paintings. None of theirs ever make a fuss, though some of the boozier ones can be induced to tell ribald stories.
"It's stuck to the wall with a permanent sticking charm" said Potter.
"Then remove some of the wall" said Mummy "Daphne tells me you've got quite the gouging charm."
"Now?" asked Potter. That shaved monkey of Gryffindor reared its head.
"Before next week" said mummy "This place is dreadful. Get some cleaners in."
"We have cleaned it" said Potter defensively.
"Is this the best you can do?" asked mummy "I've seen half-squibs clean better than this."
"Mrs Weasley wouldn't let us use magic, we were underage" said Potter.
Daphne looked at Harry and tried to communicate silently that mummy brooks no shilly-shallying. "Had you been very bad?" she asked.
Potter shows them the dining room; which has a ludicrously huge table and many missing chairs. Several floors up, there is Mrs Black's old room, which is renovated. Daphne could see herself mistress of all she surveys living there. It might be the biggest bedroom in the house, and there's a bathroom just outside. However, when mummy turns the bathroom taps on and off, it's clear they're worn out. And the sinks, loo and bathtub are all covered in stains. Some green, some white, some rusty-red.
Mummy simply suggests "Replace all the taps, and porcelain. It's all worn out."
"You just need to do the taps up a bit tighter" says Potter.
"No" says Daphne, what the hell is wrong with him? "And have guests think we can't afford taps that work. Not Going To Happen." Potter gives her a sulky look.
Mummy draws her wand in the bathroom and cast 'evanesco' on the stains. Nothing happens.
"I uh already did that" said Potter. Daphne gives Potter a glare. This is not an acceptable standard of cleanliness; probably he learned squalor from the muggles.
"You'll have to replace" said mummy "Daphne, you'll need to get the businesses on their feet quickly."
"We're making money" said Potter "The ledger shows deposits."
"Harry, may I look at the ledger after lunch" asks Daphne politely, and with deference to her husband-to-be. He hasn't given her permission to do anything with his family business, after all.
"Of course you can" said Potter, casually.
The tour of the house continued, until they got to the fourth floor landing, where there's a training dummy on castors, a gramophone on a spindly table and a pile of parchment. Daphne spies some 'makers' and has a fairly good idea what this is. In one corner of the landing, there's an iron staircase going up to a hole in the ceiling.
"What is the meaning of this?" asked mummy
"I was doing dance practice" said Potter
Mummy approved of the late Regulus Black's room, obviously, and she and mummy were both struck dumb by the filth and depravity in Potters room. Daphne had seen… things in magazines obviously, but… all over the walls. Daphne crossed her arms. Great Potter was a secret – not-so-secret pervert, and would spend his remaining life pressuring her to do those-sort of things. She crossed her arms to cover her chest. A chest he apparently would like her to flaunt bare while contorted over muggle machines. It looked cold and uncomfortable, and undignified.
"Did you put those… pictures up?" asked mummy. They did, Daphne realised look old and dusty.
"My, um... godfather Sirius put them up with" said Potter, blushing faintly.
"Permanent sticking charms" guessed Daphne. Potter nodded.
"Get them off, Now" said mummy. "It's disgusting."
"It's my room" said Potter "I don't even notice them" he added; which was not endearing.
"You don't… like that sort of thing?" asked Daphne awkwardly. He was going to admit to it, so she could hide at her parents for life, dammit.
Potter blushed "I don't know how to get them down, and I don't have a lot to remember Sirius by"
"Pictures of scantily clad muggle hussies are coming down or I will use incedio" said mummy; and that was Daphne winced at a slight overstep by mummy. If anyone should be doing flame-curses, it should be her, as mistress-to-be of the house. But it was her first visit, and she was too surprised to really comment.
Potter shrugged "How would I even get them off? Even cursebreakers can't remove permanent sticking charms."
"You've had cursebreakers look at this problem?" asked mummy. Daphne stared at Potter – he'd had Cursebreakers in to get these off? Maybe he wasn't such a revolting pervert after all.
"Yes" said Potter.
"Get some… respectable pictures and hang them over the top" suggested mummy, after thinking for a while. That, though Daphne sounded acceptable.
Potter's eyes lit up, metaphorically, and he enthusiastically said "I've got a photo album, of my parents. It was a present in first year. I could get them framed."
"Daphne can Potter not transfigure picture frames?" asked mummy.
"I've not seen him transfigure anything mother" said Daphne. And he'd dropped out so he could suck a lemon.
"School dropout" said mummy, and Potter did look like he'd just sucked a lemon. He had the cheekbones for it.
"What's up the spiral staircase?" asked Daphne.
"The attic" snapped Potter.
"Show me" said Daphne "I want to see what this house has."
Potter led the way up into the attic, and um, the er, view of the blue trousers was, well, he had good muscle definition. Once he got up into the attic he lit the charmed lamps, illuminating old trunks and dusty piles of junk.
"This is junk" said Daphne, looking at the trunks, which had cracked covers. There was a smell of doxies, or bird droppings, overpowering the odour of mould and rot.
"But some of it is useful" said Potter "The design for my wedding robes was an old robe from up here." Daphne went back down the stairs and Potter came back down.
"Why doesn't your house have a back door?" asked mummy once Potter was back on the fourth floor.
"A back door?" asked Potter. Mummy clearly didn't realise about shaved Gryffindor monkeys.
"Well it's clearly muggle and Victorian, there should be back door to the kitchen and pantry" she said.
"It's muggle?" asked Potter.
"The floo opens into the basement. Any civilised building would open into a receiving room, like our house" said Daphne.
Potter looked once again, like he was trying to think. Still, he took them to the Office, which is not awful at all, just a bit fusty, and gives Daphne the ledger to read, at her leisure.
Daphne and mummy left, and both went to wash thoroughly. Daphne decided she needed to soak in scented bath-water to get the odour out of her sinuses.
-==0==-
Daphne busies herself with getting Greengrass's tenant management up to date, and getting ahead of possible problems with the rentals. Before she has to hand it back to daddy in late February.
And… makes a list of Black properties in France, and has to re-read it. Potter has, well the Black's have a chateau in the Dordoygne. Daphne imagines a fairy-tale chateau. That's basically hers, anyway, and where she could… retire to, to avoid her husband. And live… well like great-grandmama but without the downsides of a seven hundred-year-old castle. Once can reasonably assume there's plumbing. It's time to send information to Perks. There's no record of payments to anyone in France, so there's no caretaker, groundskeeper. Perks can, Daphne imagines, settle her entire family in the keepers cottages. Not that she's angling to make Perks her maid. Far from it… Perks can be chatelaine, and look after the other French cottages. A job, income, somewhere for her family too. Daphne wrote the letter and included the location of all the dwellings. Hopefully Perks would see the benefit. Once she was married to the twit, she could send Perks a salary using Black family funds, in the meantime, well, she had her own vault.
Potter continues coming weekdays at two for dance practice, and dancing for two or three hours. Combined with a ride of Buttercup every morning and currying her, Daphne's quite well exercised. And… has lost a tiny bit of weight. She suspects it's not eating french food. And with practice, dancing in heels is no longer that difficult, her legs don't ache and her feet are less sore. Potter still gets a stupid glassy look on his face from time-to-time.
Madame owls Mummy, she has finished the dress, and needs Daphne for final adjustments. One day, two at the outside.
Daphne owls Potter and tells him not to come for practice, as she's off to France for dress fitting.
Mummy's coming – Daphne suspects to stick her oar in, and Daphne invites Tracey, Lil's and Sally. She also writes a letter to Perks, inviting her to come to the hotel. As a bridesmaid, if she desires.
And then she tells mummy that she's taking a party of four, and mummy insists Astoria is coming too. Daphne doesn't object as she hopes that perhaps Astoria might sober up in Paris. Mummy also writes a number of letters. Hopefully not inviting great-grandmama.
"So. This is your hens night party?" asks Astoria.
"No I'm just going to my dress fitting, and we may… get some invitations to stores, restaurants and events." said Daphne.
"The free stuff?" said Astoria.
"Not everything's free" warned Daphne, and went to see Tracey.
Tracey's in her room looking at robes. "Do I wear this?" she said holding up a purple one "Or this?" holding up a blue one.
"Take both" said Daphne. "Two days."
"Are we getting free stuff?"
"We may." said Daphne, not confident.
"Cool. We're doing your hen's night. Don't argue." said Tracey.
Daphne and her friends, and Astoria, and mummy arrived by portkey at the French ministry. They submitted to wand checks, and signed entry paperwork, and headed to the hotel.
The Hotel's receptionist smiled and greeted Daphne "Mademoiselle Greengrass, you're back!"
Mummy elbowed her gently "This is my favourite hotel in Paris" said Daphne.
"May we quite you on that?"
Mummy elbowed her. "Certainly" said Daphne.
And with some surprising discounts, they got a suite with many bedrooms, and went to unpack.
And mummy picked up what looked a lot like visiting cards from the front desk, giving Daphne a small smile.
Mummy took charge once they'd unpacked, and led them down to a ballroom, where a sign said 'Private Function.' And hotel staff stood ready to eject the unwanted. Daphne sighed. Mummy had organised something.
"Now Daphne" whispered mummy "No complaining about your betrothed, not mentioning the deal."
And the hotel staffer, in his elegant gold-trimmed robe opened the door, And there, in a chair looking like she owned the universe, was great-grandmama, Franz, and all the European relations milling about, including, at least, her cousins from Uncle B. Who, while in their twenties, weren't ancient. One even waved. That was, Daphne thought Philomena.
"Please everyone be nice" said Daphne to her friends, and she suffered a moment of doubt. If Perks was to turn up… well great-grandmama would not tolerate a muggle-born, and to be honest with herself, she wasn't sure how strictly her cousins from eastern Europe took their blood purity. Perks didn't look like she was showing up anyway. Daphne tried to look pleased, and followed mummy in.
Straight over to great-grandmama.
"So. You're marrying a half-blood" said great-grandmama in German. Knowing the old bat, just so she could say blut.
"I'm marrying a pureblood, great-grandmama Erzabet" interjected Astoria from beside her. Great-grandmama smiled minutely "Da" she said. Which was pretty tactful of her; as Malfoy was in prison.
"He ah" said Daphne. "Has an Order or Merlin, first class. And his... fathers family is respectable, though… I'm marrying him as the lady of Black, so… "
Great-grandmama surprisingly gave her a curt nod. "Zese are your wedding party?" she asked.
"Yes. I need two more dress fittings. Today and tomorrow." said Daphne.
"With Madame Desha" said mummy. Daphne nearly fell over as great-grandmama's mouth fell open, and she gaped like a fish for a moment. "Desha. She is… she is the best." said Great-grandmama.
"My husband is paying for my dress. To please me" said Daphne.
"Well you're marrying Black and they're rich" said Great-grandmama "Can I come to the fitting?" she asked… and Great-grandmama never asked for anything.
"Of course grandmother" said Mummy. Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes or otherwise express her annoyance. The old bat would see her in her wedding knickers, and the dress. Daphne didn't want to show those off. Well, didn't want to have anyone see her in her knickers. Once day, Potter might allow her to have a lover, and she'd find a tall, dark and handsome man who would transport her on raptures of delight, and he'd definitely get to see her sexy lingerie. But she blinked and centred herself, that wasn't anything to think about today.
After greeting everyone, including great-grandfather Franz, she had a number of cousins a bit older than her interested in her 'hens night.'
Mummy slipped out and came back shuffling invitation cards. Daphne suspected mummy had sent notice to certain places. Like all the restaurants mummy had liked, and so forth.
However, now that the 'private function' was drawing to a close, Daphne had to go back up to her room and quickly get her um… wedding underwear, and bring the shoes in their bag. She wore sensible shoes and the nice pinstripe robe – and her newer favourite hat. She checked the hat on the mirror, it looked great. She collected her mother, great-grandmama and Tori from the function room, Tracey assured her that she and her friends were going to the hotel restaurant to have a casual get-together with her cousins. Daphne suspected that they were planning her hens night. There was no time to complain, and mummy headed out. Great-grandmama used a cane now. She was incredibly old.
Daphne got to the hotel's entrance, and as she expected, there was a small group of reporters and photographers. Daphne waved "Hello" she said, in English. And waited for the reporters to finish asking stupid questions. She had the strangest notion, and waved one hand the way Potter had; imperiously, and the babbling baboons stopped talking.
"Hello, I'm here in Paris for a few days to finish my wedding dress fitting from Madam Desha. I'm here with some of my family – this is my great-grandmother the Countess Erzabet Bathory, my mother, Roxanne Greengrass, and my sister, Astoria Greengrass. We're going to Madam Desha's now – I do hope you don't delay us." said Daphne, in French.
"Will you answering questions this afternoon?" asked a reporter in a tres-chic orange robe with a brown hat that had a pheasant feather in the brim.
"I'm a private person" said Daphne. The reporters completely ignored that, and started asking questions. "Is Mr Potter in Paris?"
"My betrothed is in London" said Daphne "This is just a girl and her family going to a dress fitting."
"Countess Bathory, what is your opinion of your great-granddaughters upcoming nuptials?"
Great-Grandmama turned her vulture-like gaze on the poor reporter and said in rather accented french "My girl's husband to be is buying her wedding dress from Madame Desha. I understand he's doing that to make my Daphne happy. That's the best we can expect from him."
And that was, thought Daphne, a much heavier accent than great-grandmama actually had, and a very veiled snub to Potter, acknowledging that he was buying an extremely expensive dress.
"Please, I'm an old woman, don't make me have to stand here all day" said great-grandmama. Daphne tried not to stare in shock. The old bat never played on her age, generally she threatened people with buying their lands and burning their houses to the ground. Was she actually going to play 'poor old old grandma' the the reporters? And by the way she limped over the cane, yes, she was. But the reporters and photographers parted, so it had worked. Daphne followed mummy, and Astoria tagged along, and Tori gave her raised-eyebrow look. Daphne shrugged.
Great-grandmama did actually go fairly slowly with her cane, then she asked "Astoria, are we still being followed.?" in Hungarian.
"Yes great-grandmother" said Tori moments later.
"Shise" said Great-grandmama, and she walked a little faster.
Mummy knocked on the door, and Fiona let them in, with a slight frown. Mummy explained hastily "This is my grandmother, the Countess Bathory, and my youngest daughter, Astoria."
If great-grandmama being introduced as a countess surprised Fiona she made no obvious reaction to it, and snapped off a quick, precise curtsy, and led them into the fitting room.
On a dress-makers dummy that was about Daphne's shape and – in high heels height, there rested a cream dress covered in embroidery and a fine white tulle. A gorgeous dress. Daphne swallowed, it was better than any dress she'd ever seen.
Fiona drew her wand and quickly duplicated the couch, wordlessly. Great-grandmama sat down, and rested her hands on her cane, then her chin on that. She did actually look a little tired.
Tori went over and peered at the dress. At Daphne's dress. "That can't fit, you'd need a ton of padding" said Astoria. "And it's got a waist. Oooh, are you going to have to put on a corset?"
Great-grandmama lifted her head and stared at Daphne. Daphne felt her face flushing.
"If you would get your underthings on" said Fiona.
Daphne caught her eye and willed her to understand her trepidation.
Fiona nodded, and opened another camouflaged wall panel; into a small changing room with floor-length mirror and a small shelf. Daphne dropped the shoe store bag, and went in with her wedding underwear bag. She put the bag on the shelf and Fiona got her favourite cream dressing-robe out. Daphne closed the door on her nosey family and changed into the ludicrous wedding set. Which wasn't tight, and that was a mercy. She looked at her reflection. Very mature, she thought, and got the stupid stockings on. After fiddling with that, she pulled on the robe and did it up. She eyed her reflection, and winked. That, thought Daphne was how she wanted to appear to her lover one day. But not today, and not Potter. She opened the door and stepped out. Fiona gave her a little nod.
Tori butted in with a loud "What the hell?" Great-grandmama whacked her with her stick. The old bat caught her eye – and gave her a tiny nod. Which was weird.
Fiona undid the back of the dress, and Daphne took a deep breath, and at that point, the camouflaged door to the rest of the shop opened and Madame Desha stepped in.
Fiona turned her head "Miss Greengrass's sister and her great-grandmother. The countezz Bathory." she said in French.
Madame Desha clicked her fingers "Get on with it." Fiona held the dress to face the wall, and Daphne wanted to thank her, but Madame Desha seemed in a hurry.
Daphne undid her dressing gown, let it slither off onto the floor and, ignoring her worse-than naked state, stepped into the dress, and let Fiona help her pull it up. It … didn't fit perfectly, but Daphne laboriously pulled on the sleeves, and Fiona charmed the buttons on the back to fasten themselves. Daphne felt the dress tighten and constrict oddly.
"The shoes" said Madam Desha. Mummy opened the shoebox, and got out the monstrosities, and stood and held Daphne's hands so she could balance as Fiona knelt and lifted the hem so Daphne could put them on. The height was… it was like her tallest heels only a bit worse. And she had to stick out her bum and lean forward – but the dress fit a little better. Though it was still quite tight on her upper arms, and she could hardly shuffle, the thighs were so tight. At least the waist was comparatively comfortable. Actually, thought Daphne a little room in the stomach would be useful, she was going to be eating her wedding banquet in this anyway.
"Hmm"said Madam Desha. "Can you walk?" she asked in English.
Daphne, with Mummy's help with stability, minced across the room and back.
Madam Desha drew a wand, with silver pointer arrangement clamped to it, and walked over and somehow adjusted the skirt of the dress. Daphne could swear she felt the blood-flow returning to her legs.
"And walking?"
That rigmarole of resizing the thighs a little continued for a long time. Madam Desha poked her thigh. "Dancing?" she asked.
"Daphne's been training her husband to dance. Three hours a day" volunteered mummy.
Madam Desha threw her hands up in Daphne suspected annoyance.
"The um… arms are quite tight" said Daphne.
"You, girl. Stand up" said Madam Desha. Astoria pointed at herself.
"Yes you. Get up. Take a dance pose with your sister… You, can you lift your arms?" she asked Daphne.
It transpired that for someone as tall as Astoria – not nearly as tall as Potter, but still quite tall, Daphne could not comfortably lift her arm to level, or slightly elevated.
And that was another hour of slow adjustments on the arms.
"So it's done now?" asked Daphne.
"That's temporary. We're going to need to unpick the seams and redo both layers and the lining." said Madam Desha. "Tomorrow. Fiona, get the veil?"
Fiona got a box of lace from another room, and pulled out a large brides veil, that she and mummy wrestled onto Daphne's head – and it covered her view a little, and sat heavily down her back.
Madame Desha finally charmed the wall-panel to a mirror, and Daphne got to see the temporarily fixed dress. It … well she had a waist, and more bust than she was happy about, and the veil covered her face, but she could be seen. And looked really tall. Astoria, standing around looking a bit bored, was her height- give-or-take a little. And with her wedding dress on, Astoria looked … like a stick. Daphne smiled slightly at her reflection. The witch in the mirror looked… like herself but also… a work of artifice. "This will do" said Daphne surely.
"It will do when I say so" said Madame Desha. "Tomorrow, at three. Don't get bloated overnight."
Madam Desha stood with her arms crossed while Fiona boxed the veil and helped her out of the bloody shoes, then the dress. Daphne went to the changing-room, closed the door and got into her proper clothes … a less ceremonial ones.
She packed up the underwear into the bag and left the changing room. Astoria glared at her.
Madam Desha spoke up "We'll need the underwear. I want to be sure it doesn't show."
"You exercise. Good" said Great-grandmama in Hungarian.
The media were waiting outside.
"How did it go?" asked one reporter.
"I'm not going to comment" said Daphne. "My wedding dress will be done soon."
"What colour is it?" "What's the style?"
"You could ask Madame Desha" said mummy.
"Bot she won't talk to anyone" complained one witch.
"Yes" said great-grandmama in French "How apt."
As they walked back to the hotel, Astoria asked "How did Daphne get a … figure?"
"Your sister is shy." said mummy. "But takes after my side of the family."
"Ya" said Great-grandmama "Those heels – ugh. I would wear a platform first. I had a waist like that when I was young."
Daphne looked over at her great-grandmama, who was leaning lightly on her cane as she walked… and whose robes pulled in at the middle. Not… a great deal but, she did have somewhat similar proportions to mummy. Maybe she was imagining that.
They got back to the hotel, and more press attention. Great-grandmama swung her cane to clear a path. And hit reporters. Mummy went to the reception and took cards, and sorted them "Ah" she said "Ballet. Tonight. Excellent."
Daphne's heart soared. Ballet... hours of music and dance.
"You're ah… party is in the restaurant" said the receptionist.
In the hotel restaurant, Daphne's friend and her cousins had commandeered several tables and pushed them together and where drinking tall glasses of something yellow-green with little paper umbrellas.
Daphne eyed them, and Tracey said slightly drunk sounding "It's Daphne!"
"We're going to the opera" said Daphne. "We're invited."
"I think we might take two boxes" said Mummy "One for the younger folk"
And… after taking everyone to Henri's for dinner – free for her and mummy at least, they went to the Ballet. It was 'The Firebird' apparently. Daphne sat down in the middle of the box, and took the offered glass of champagne. Her friends sat around her and everyone listened. Daphne sipped, and ignored the increasingly raucous giggling and conversation from Tracey, Tori and her cousins.
"Could go a comic" said Tracey.
"Oui" said one of her cousins "A comic opera. Tomorrow night?" Daphne snorted. Tracey just wanted a comic, not an opera.
"Right" said Lils "Can we get to a comic opera tomorrow night?"
Daphne shushed them.
Daphne went to bed late, smiling, having had a nice night out.
Her cousins had found a theatre doing a comic opera the next morning by breakfast, and arranged to have a box for the older ones, and one for what was apparently going to be the hens night.
The morning was spent with mummy, followed by her 'wedding party', going to shops that had sent cards, looking at this and that. Well hats and cloaks and jewellery, and pastries for everyone else.
The final fitting was an anticlimax. The dress fitted and looked amazing, and Daphne could walk, or at least totter with style, in the dress now. Fiona packed it into a box, and put the cream dressing gown on top with a smile.
"Come back for your next husband" she said as they left.
"Mummy, shall I have a Madmae Desha dress for my wedding?" asked Tori.
"The rule my dear, is that your father will not pay for it." said Mummy. "Daphne's Harry is the head of the Black family, and he wants her to have a dress she loves. You do love the dress, Daphne?"
"Well, I at least like it enough not to throw it out" joked Daphne.
"Keep the dress to hand" said great-grandmama in Hungarian"And keep your figure. Your husband will bow to your will if you revisit an argument in your wedding dress."
Daphne wanted to tell Great-grandmama about Potter, about the deal, but… it would not end well. There was hope still that he'd let her have a lover in a few years. The reporters would tire of her in time.
The comic opera was fun, and everyone drank far too much champagne.
Her cousins took them off afterwards to a club, where music was played very loud and young wizards and witches danced rather familiarly with one another. Her cousins got rounds of fruity drinks with more paper umbrellas. It reminded Daphne of the latter part of the Hogwarts Yule ball. That reminded her of Jean-Claude. She had another fruity drink with an umbrella.
It was a bit of a blur after that. She remembered dancing a little, and lots of silly giggling and her older cousins making very dirty jokes about wands and brooms. The next morning, in her bed at the hotel, Daphne had a headache and a stomach-ache. She got out of bed, dressed and went to the suite's common room.
Mummy gave her some hangover remedy, and within minutes he just felt tired.
"Did you have fun?" asked Mummy.
"I liked the opera." admitted Daphne "The party afterwards… not so much."
"Did you do anything embarrassing? Asked mummy.
Tori dragged herself out in a hotel robe "Daphne was boring. Then drunk, then she threw up on this bloke that asked her to dance."
Mummy giggled. "Well, don't drink that much dear, it's not healthy."
"Cousins Susannah charmed him clean then dragged him off" said Tori.
Daphne was glad her hens night hadn't been too embarrassing.
But Le Monde Magique somehow had a fuzzy picture of her vomiting on a young wizard, so that was not actually true.
Daphne was sitting in the restaurant, drinking tea the way she liked it when a blonde french witch, from her robes sat down next to her uninvited.
"Excuse me" said Daphne.
"You invited me" said someone in English. Daphne looked over and … the blonde wore glasses – fashionable ones and a beret.
"Perks?"
"Greengrass. You're Potter soon?"
"Black, complicated stupid plans by my parents." said Daphne.
"Plans? Not romance?" asked Perks, lifting her well-groomed eyebrows. Perks had scrubbed up, thought Daphne.
"Call me Daphne. How did your family manage the move?"
"They freaked." said Perks "Call me Sally-Anne. Beauxbatons was miles better. I just got crap for being English."
"Um… good then." said Daphne awkwardly. "So, I sent you the list of properties. You get a look at any of them?"
"Some of us need to work" said Sally-Anne.
Daphne rummaged in her robe pocket and found her money-bag, and poured out a pile of galleons, the big enough to cover a dinner-plate. "I need people I can trust in France. Take that, pay yourself or your family. Go look at the properties. The Chateau needs someone there all the time. There are caretakers cottages, gardeners, all vacant. Well, they should be. It could have squatters."
"Can you afford this?" Sally-Anne asked. Daphne pushed the coins her way.
"When I'm married to him, I can pay staff from the family vaults; I've got a vault and I can afford to pay now. What I can't afford, is for properties to be damaged, and left vacant."
"Huh?"
"My job for my father since I was fifteen was managing our tenancies. We've got a lot of rentals. The Blacks do too. The ones on the list are here in France. I need someone in France to do it, and there's lots of accommodation available. The Chateau is the biggest property and hopefully the nicest. And they're utterly insecure, too many windows. So, burglary and squatters."
"You need a security guard." said Sally-Anne.
"There's always a cottage for the groundskeeper. I want that chateau in good order, so in time, I can live there, have my own life."
"Trouble in paradise?" asked Sally-Anne.
"It's not paradise."
"What? He's a hero, is he really as good-looking as the photos?"
"He's um… " Daphne hesitated. Potter was actually better looking than the photos that made it into the papers or magazines. In person he … well he could be sarcastic, even amusing.
"You know how the photos of me are better than real life?" said Daphne bluntly.
"Mmm?"
"He's the opposite. Very few photos, and he avoids the press. I um... I'll do the same once I'm back in Britain."
"Just free stuff in Paris?"
"Discounted" said Daphne defensively.
"My heart bleeds for you" said Sally-Anne.
"At least your parents didn't sign you up in a marriage you can't divorce from, to Potter, of all people."
"He's decent looking in the photos, and you say better in person."
"He's weird. Scary." said Daphne "And… I don't love him. I don't think I ever will."
"You've got a heart then?" asked Sally-Anne a little sarcastically.
Daphne stared Perks in the eyes, and let Perks see her misery. Her eyes prickled with tears. "I have to have a child with him."
"Oh fuck" said Sally-Anne. "You want to run away to France." Daphne nodded and screwed her eyes shut.
-==0==-
Perks didn't send an owl before February drew to a close.
There was a wedding rehearsal at the Ministry, and Potter came in black robes with green trim; but not wedding robes. Daphne had chosen to wear her pinstripe robe, and heels- but not the stupid wedding ones. Daddy walked her up the aisle, followed by her bridesmaids, Perks had not come, so only Lils, Tracey and Astoria, who'd insisted. Potter stood at the single small table that was their only rehearsal prop with the old wispy haired wizard and Longbottom, who tried to introduce some levity by calling her cousin. Tracey, at a break in proceedings asked Longbottom what he was doing tonight. Longbottom blushed and said he was going home, and then protested, blushing that he was dating Hannah Abbott. Potter patted him in the back. She and Potter had to say their vows, pretend to exchange rings, pretend to kiss, then walk down the imaginary aisle, to the fireplace and in their real wedding, they'd floo home to Greengrass Estate for photographs. In the rehearsal, they went to Margaret's for dinner with the rest of the wedding party. Mummy made her sit next to Potter. Potter picked at his food and didn't talk unless asked a direct question.
On the day before… 'that day.', mummy brought all the trunks to her room, and helped her pack. Daphne decided to leave all her riding things, and a few robes in her old bedroom, as her new london townhouse had nowhere for poor old Buttercup to live. Mummy started to cry, and that set her off. She sat on the floor, mummy holding her for ages. Mummy finally sniffled out "I'm so sorry darlink." They packed till Daphne was too irritated, and she went out to ride. She came back from currying Buttercup, showered and put on her new cream dressing gown, and sat down to clip and file her toenails.
Daphne had just done her big toe when Tracy knocked on her door, and came in, looking tense. "Hi" she said. "Can I help you with your nails and stuff?"
Glinkit brought Battenberg cake and tea, and Tracey even painted Daphne's toenails soft pink for her. "Thanks" said Daphne quietly.
"Well, I'm not sure I want to help you groom your ladies garden" said Tracey, blushing.
Daphne had to think what she might mean, and blushed herself. "Um no" she croaked.
"So… wedding night robes?" asked Tracey. Daphne blushed and shook her head. Tracey started telling her about recent quidditch league matches. It was gloriously boring. Daphne relaxed.
Much later, mummy came back with a parcel.
"Oh Tracey" she said, and smiled at Tracey, who was lying on Daphne's bed reading a comic book, while Daphne sat on her chaise and um, reread a certain book. The good bits anyway.
"Mummy?" asked Daphne.
Mummy handed her the silk-wrapped parcel. The soft silk-wrapped parcel, and Daphne undid the bow on it, and took out… a cream robe, a very short cream robe.
"Wedding night robes from Madame Desha" said Mummy "I paid for them." and she reached into her robe pocket, and took out a vial of potion "And… to take, to prevent pregnancy. Before or after, within half a day." Daphne stared at the greenish crystal vial. Daphne looked over at Tracey, anticipating some sort of embarrassing remark. But Tracey was instead biting her lip and had wet looking eyes. Daphne folded the robe up, and did the cover up, and took the vial with a shaky hand, and sticking-charmed it to the cover. It fit into her trunk of bedroom things easily. She looked up at mummy, and tried to say something. "Well, it's traditional, I suppose" was all she could manage. Mummy nodded and left hastily.
"Well, they are cute" said Tracey finally.
Glinkit cooked all her favourites for dinner. Mummy came to see her after dinner, and cast the turned ankle charm on both of her ankles, and massaged some bruise paste into Daphne's feet, then cast some a charm on her ankles, that sounded like the one for lame horses.
"Mummy!" she exclaimed "that was horse charm!"
"You'll be on your feet all day in heels dear." said Mummy "It's not going to make you eat carrots."
"Carrots are for horses mummy" snapped Daphne, and burst out laughing.
Mummy smiled at her "My big girl's getting married." she said, and sighed, and cast a spell at her bedroom door. "Now, a few words of advice from a married woman to her married daughter."
Daphne closed her eyes. This was going to be sooo embarrassing.
"Make sure he licks" said Mummy. Yes, Mummy went straight to sex. Daphne opened her eyes and waited for more inappropriate advice.
Mummy sighed. "Look, he's handsome, you may grow to love him." said Mummy.
"Well, any other words of wisdom?" asked Daphne "Apart from don't put your daughters in betrothal contracts?"
Mummy nodded "that is good advice, yes" she said. "But there were disappearances, and we would have been targeted if we'd tried to remain neutral."
Daphne suddenly realised she, Daphne Greengrass had saved Perks and her family, with a Portkey daddy had probably made in a few minutes. A fire of anger flickered in her chest. She pursed her lips and breathed in, about to give mummy a piece of her mind. But as she met mummy's eyes, she saw mummy was crying. Mummy put to vials in her hands "Dreamless sleep, and calming draught. The draught tomorrow." she said. Daphne stared at the potions mummy had almost certainly made herself. To make her feel better. She sighed softly.
"I'm so sorry dearest" said Mummy, and they hugged and cried till Daphne was sure she looked very ugly, and mummy's eyes were puffy and her nose red. Daphne got up and washed her face after mummy left and lay in the bed, looking up at the bed-crown she'd had since she was big enough for a big girls bed. Her last night, she took the draught of dreamless sleep and waited. Sleep came eventually.
-==0==-
Daphne got up, took the calming draught, and bathed. Today was the day.
She went down to breakfast in a casual robe, ate scrambled eggs, and threw them up. Glinkit made her kedgeree, and she choked some down. Mummy's hands were shaking. Daphne looked at her own, and she looked like she was having a fit.
Tracey arrived in a dressy robe and hugged her till her hands stilled.
The wedding underwear felt like prison chains, but the dress squashed her slightly all over and that was oddly soothing. They were awful, but Daphne got to sit for an hour while her hair and makeup were done by a horribly cheerful plump witch. Who politely omitted to offer Daphne sage advice.
Mummy plied her with a greenish shake that must have been part food, part potion.
Everything seemed to happen so slowly, and the day dragged by, then there was no time left. Daddy took her side-along through the floo to the ministry, and an Auror led them both down a hallway and around to doorway that apparently led back into the atrium. Tracey, Astoria and Lils are waiting in matching vermilion dresses. They're her bridesmaids, technically. Daphne lowers her veil and takes a few calming breaths. It doesn't help, not today.
"It's time" said Daddy, and he helped her totter into the ministry Atrium, on a red carpet that led past two banks of packed seating, to a table, where a wispy haired old wizard waits. In front of the celebrant, Potter's standing tall and severe in Black and silver robes, his hair totally tamed by Sleek-easzsy's not doubt. Next to him stands Neville Longbottom, who makes Potter look narrow and shorter than he really is. Daphne knows Longbottom. Knows what his screams sound like when he's torture cursed. Has seen him get back up and look the Carrows in the face. She's honestly surprised it's not Auror Weasley. There's some reason for it, and Daphne has no idea what it is. Her bridesmaids followed her, like a vermilion Auror protection detail.
Strangely, there's a short blond photographer, in what her reading of the muggle Studies textbook tells her is a grey Morning suit, and a top-hat. He takes her photograph as she walks to the altar with daddy, then tips his hat to her. It's strange, but Potter does have muggle-born friends. One has come, she concludes in formal muggle wedding attire. Its elaborately disrespectful, but she holds in her annoyance. It has the hand of Potter on it, for sure.
Tottering along with daddy, she finally reaches Potter, Longbottom and the celebrant; who is short, and next to those two looks like a dwarf. Daddy's also fairly tall, but he goes and sits next to mummy, who is crying. Daphne wants to but holds it in.
The old wizard starts talking, and for such an old man he's got good voice projection.
"This is a wedding of a witch and wizard, under the auspices of the matrimonial rituals act, seventeen twenty-two. Let all attending lower their wands and make quiet."
Daphne's surprised; the old boy is doing this exactly by the book.
And he reads a poem, that Potter could not have chosen, that calls the listener to dance upon the green ere the darkness comes. Daphne wants desperately to run. She eyes her friends and sister, who are standing in a diagonal line, to not block the view for everyone else, she supposes.
"If you would, Mr Black?" whispers the old wizard.
"I, Harry James Potter-Black promise and covenant myself and all mine to Daphne Queenie Greegnrass." says Potter. Well, Potter-Black, she supposes. Daphne mentally damns her father for letting mummy choose such a stupid middle name, She glances across at Potter but he's clearly mentally not there right now.
"Ahem" from the old wizard, and Daphne starts.
"I, Daphne Queenie Greengrass promise and covenant myself and all mine to Harry James Potter-Black." she says and that's her life over.
"Rings" said the old wizard, and Longbottom hands over two rings, which he holds in his wrinkled hand between them.
Potter picks up the more decorated ring, it's silvery and has a black pearl on it, and Daphne holds out her left hand, which doesn't even shake, and Potter's calloused fingers slide the ring onto her ring finger. It's quite heavy for it's size. And she suspects this is a Black family heirloom of some kind.
Daphne picks up the silver and gold band, and slides it onto Potters ring finger. His fingers flex and the ring is just there on his hand. He's married to her now, Daphne realises.
The old wizard starts in on a long, drawn-out lecture to the audience on the wonderfulness of marriage, that finally ends, and he whispers "A kiss is traditional here." Daphne lifts her veil and hooks it back over her head. Potter looks at her curiously. Or maybe his tiny brain's just worn out. He purses his – why has he got such a big lower lip, she wonders?
Daphne braces for it, but Potter leans over and gives her a polite, respectful and chaste kiss on the lips, in a flash from that cameraman. He smells of Sleekeazy's. Daphne bitterly thinks that as first proper kisses go, it was pretty boring. The photographer's flash had fired as they kissed, and there's a cloud of white smoke over by the camera. She certainly didn't feel a special connection. And in a moment of horrible clarity realises she was secretly hoping that at this last point in the service, this first married kiss, she's held out some silly romantic hope that the kiss would somehow be magical, that she would suddenly feel… something towards Potter. Or he to her, she realises, with disappointment tempered with shame. Why on earth would she have hoped that. She may have read too many stupid romantic books, she realises.
An orchestra of enchanted instruments begins to play something slow and intricate. Potter turns and steadies her arm as she totters back down the carpet. He is very close to her, and her hip keeps bumping into him, but he stoically keeps a steady gentle pace, exactly, she realises, the pace she arrived at. Lil's, Tracey and Astoria follow her, with Longbottom behind Potter.
As they pass the photographer he takes a third photograph, of them leaving together. Potter steadies her regardless of the flash of light, and they have passed the last row of seating.
"Thank you" she said sotto voce to Potter. Potter silently keeps her steady as they get to the end of the carpet, and a fireplace already burning green.
"Greengrass Estate" said Daphne, and they stepped into the flames in unison.
They step out together too, all that dancing really has helped their coordination, she muses.
Daphne draws her wand and clears soot off herself, then Potter, as he doesn't either know how, or can never be bothered. Daphne goes to the downstairs loo and washes her hands and stares at herself in the mirror. She looks, she has to admit to herself, amazing, if a bit stressed.
Potter's waiting by the loo, and helped her into a chair, then dashes back into the loo.
Mummy, daddy, and the photographer in the morning suit arrive, and the first thing is to get a formal photo, on the couch in the drawing room.
"Mrs Black, on the left or right?" asks the Photographer, his camera already on it's large tripod.
"Left side, my wand arm will still be clear" said Potter.
Mummy shakes her head "Right hand side." The photographer readies the camera on its tripod, and then shakes his head.
"Dennis?" asked Potter. Potter knows this little man.
"Can um Mrs Greengrass move the vase behind them, it's messing the shot up." says this 'Dennis'
Then the wedding party i.e. mummy and daddy and Longbottom and Astoria are budged into shot.
Potter is a very convenient brace to stand up from the couch with. He hardly moves at all as she leans on his forearm. And she hasn't turned an ankle yet.
Then they do some outside photos that are quite informal, and more people come for some off them. Relations, and her 'wedding party' are arrayed around her like… well like guards. Astoria doesn't make a single derisive remark.
'Dennis' has Daphne throw her bouquet to the younger witches present, which must is apparently some sort of muggle thing. That has Astoria fuming.
Daphne's stomach aches, and she wishes she could just go and hide in bed for a little while. A century or two should do.
The reception is going to be at Margaret's on Diagon Alley, the meals for rehearsals were good.
Potter again helped her floo. His arm was… solid and dependable. And he continued to help her all the way to the centre table, and in a display of manners, helped her into her chair, then sat next to her.
Daphne had to stare at this changeling, who was looking um, very handsome and rather pensive. "Thank you, you've been very helpful." she said.
After a moment's hesitation Potter just says "Yes Dear," without looking at her at all. As if they'd passed from being arranged marriage newlyweds, to married for ages and ignoring one another, content in marriage, without Daphne experiencing anything in the middle. She suspects he's making fun of her.
As a concession to the huge crowd and Daphne's terrible shoes, they're receiving seated. The first few guests come and give congratulations, and Potter just sits there looking wooden, so Daphne elbows him gently; he looked over and she nods slightly, and Potter blinks, and seems to snap out of his fuge or whatever, and nods and thanks people for the rest of the receiving of guests. The table along the side of the restaurant is filling up with shrunken parcels.
Eventually mummy, who's been standing by the fireplace nods to Daphne, and the small group of musicians begin to play.
Eventually, they waltz; it is a bridal Waltz, so there are no twirls. The dress is not so tight she can't Waltz, but the shoes are a nightmare. Potters' arms are very helpful for steadiness.
Harry then dances with Mrs Greengrass; Daphne dances with her father, and the Blacks sit down.
"How are your ankles" asks Harry conversationally.
"Fine" said Daphne "I haven't had any problems today, you've been very helpful and mother spelled them well yesterday."
Daphne picked at the meal, avoiding the stodge by habit now. Potter was hardly eating either. He did, once again look as though someone had kicked his crup. Daphne eyed him, he has pretending to eat, and wondered if he had a crup? There had been a dog-bowl in the kitchen, but it was dusty and disused.
Potter's friends, Granger and Weasley came over, Weasley with pink cheeks, and Granger awkwardly said "Congratulations on your marriage. It's not been a disaster yet, or attacked by Death Eaters."
Weasley grunted "Everyone but me's on extra shifts today, and all the Hit Wizards are out. Shack wants nobody taking a shot today. Not for you mate. Oh, and um, Greengrass…" Weasley blushed like a tomato "Great dress. You're very pretty."
"Black" said Daphne firmly. "My name is Mrs Black."
Potter snorted softly. "Great work Ron. You've pissed her off with compliments."
"Well you two do look mummified" said Weasley, and Granger patted his forearm in an affectionate chide. Daphne's heart burned with jealousy. She had a wizard she loved. Bloody Granger.
"That is an exquisite dress" said Granger "Is the um… underpinning very uncomfortable?"
Daphne inhaled slowly, stood partially and leaned over the table towards Granger "I'm not wearing a corset Granger. Some of us have waists."
Granger's eyes widened and her gaze was drawn down to Daphne's middle. Weasley chuckled and crassly said "Cor." and got elbowed viciously by Granger for his trouble. I didn't even have to hex him. Daphne sat back down.
"Ow"! Exclaimed Weasley "What did you have to do that for, you're completely mental!"
Potter hadn't said anything. Daphne looked over at him, and he was staring at her dress, with his mouth open.
"Oh you've broken him" said Weasley casually. "Give him a sharp poke he'll snap out of it."
Daphne elbowed Potter gently, and he shivered, and turned his head to not see her "Um. Thanks guys" he croaked, and he was blushing. Weasley and Granger went back to their table. And Daphne saw that Granger was wearing high heels, though not as tall as her stupid things.
A redhead that looked like Weasley, but with a ponytail, and massive claw scars down his face strolled over casually. His right hand was looped around the elbow of a gorgeous blonde witch in a peach designer robe with silvery blonde hair, who looked a lot like the Beauxbatons champion.
Potter spoke up "Um, Daphne, this Bill Weasley, Ron's oldest brother, and his wife, Fleur Weasley um, née Delacour. Fleur, Bill, Daphne Black, my wife." Daphne turned her eyes to look at Potter; he'd almost done that well. He was still blushing, what the hell was wrong with him?
"Enchante" said Fleur. "Congratulations of marrying 'Arry… Black. He's quite a catch. And 'Arry, you should introduce Beel as William Weasley, not Beel."
Daphne doubted that Potter was a catch, but Bill Weasley smiled; and clearly under the scarring he had been a very handsome man once. "Congratulations the pair of you. Harry, Mrs Black. Most beautiful teenage witch in France. My sister in law was enraged." And Bill Weasley grinned. Fiendishly, he was clearly making fun of someone. But apparently not her?
"Yes, Gabbie set the dining room on fire" said Fleur Weasley, with a smile that showed off perfect teeth.
"Not still?" asked Potter sounding disappointed, with some weird subtext there.
"I think she's over it now" said Fleur Weasley with a throaty chuckle. Daphne felt an increasing sense of irritation at the part-veela witch. She did everything beautifully. Daphne quickly eyed Potter, who was… Had Potter just rolled his eyes? What?
"Pardon me?" asked Fleur Weasley "But that is the Madame Desha dress?"
"Certainment" said Daphne.
"Oh, it's gorgeous. You look exquisite." said Fleur Weasley in Trench "Aren't those heels rather tall?"
"He's tall, mummy decided we should be the same height for dancing." replied Daphne.
"You can dance in those? Oh, you're a brave witch." said Fleur Weasley "I draw the line at five inches. And … well my grandmother's kin we love to dance. I'm blessed to be close enough to Bills height. It's not so bad to look up to one's husband when one dances. Though... Harry looks confounded. I'm rather jealous, actually."
Daphne blinked at the gorgeous part-veela. Had she just expressed a desire for HER husband? At her wedding? The gaul of the woman. Daphne wished she had the nerve to say that aloud.
"I was dressed to impress at the Yule ball" continued Fleur; Daphne remembered vividly. "Harry could ignore me. I comforted myself later that he only liked redheads. But you're blonde, blue-eyed like me, and he's looking at you that way. Still… I never had a waist like that. And well, I've had our little Victouire and got a bit… thick." Daphne felt... slightly smug that this… part-veela goddess was… was envious, but honestly, a bit thick in the middle? Fleur Weasely's waist was not thick. She didn't have what Tracey teasingly referred to as 'child-bearing' hips, that was all.
"I um… Potter, Harry, he offered me a couture dress, so that something today would be as I wished. Madame Desha was… rather controlling." said Daphne.
"He paid for your dress?" asked Fleur
"And all the shopping trip. Though I got discounts. Accursed reporters following us around , taking my photograph."
"Oui. The price of fame and beauty" said Fleur in a matte-of-fact tone. "Did you get anything else good?"
Daphne paused. "A cream silk dressing-gown from Madame Desha. Its.."
"Oh gods" said Fleur breathily "I love mine. Sometimes… I just wear it and go and ,, well you know. It's so good on your skin."
Daphne tried not to blush – it didn't really matter, but the gorgeous part-veela had just admitted that she too, found Madam Desha's dressing gown so silky that she… pleasured herself in it. And felt like a hypocrite immediately. Potter and Bill Weasley were talking about something boring.
"Mummy did um get me wedding night robes from Madame also" admitted Daphne. And her mood plummeted.
"Oh don't worry" said Fleur casually "They'll keep. She charms them to stretch. You do know most people use them to conceive later, right?"
Daphne had not thought of using them for that… but it would … ensure that mating proceeded, she thought.
"So, I saw the French Teen witch Weeklys. Who sold that darling blue dress?" asked Fleur.
"Oh. That's the place down the road from the umbrella store with the silver knocker." said Daphne.
"Oh yes, Cassies. My sister's desperate for one, and one of your hats cannot be had for love or money" said Fleur.
"My hats?"
"The little brown one that sits at an angle just so? You're quite the trend-setter"
"Oh that one" said Daphne dismissively "I hardly wear it now, I got this hunter green one like a little boat, it's my new favourite."
Fleur Weasley beamed at her. "Oh, you're fantastique. You picked the hats yourself?"
"Well I felt a little underdressed in Paris."
"Everyone does dahling" confided Fleur.
Just then Potter said – "I'm sorry Bill. With all the other stuff in the war, I forgot. My wife reminded me, actually", and Daphne had to shift her attention to Potter.
Bill's eyebrows raised "Mrs Black has done me a favour" he said, smiling slightly "My wife seems to have found a new friend?"
"Dresses and talking French?" said Potter "If it makes them happy."
Bills eyes narrowed "We will be talking some other time about… your surprise wedding to the Greengrass family."
"It is complicated" said Potter "Did you see that my Aunt Narcissa is in Azkaban now?"
"Leaving the Malfoy estates, in a shambles" said Bill Weasley, with a ghost of a smile.
"Couldn't happen to nicer people" said Potter, in that cold tone he had.
"Harry, I must say, your Daphnee has excellent taste in dressmakers" said Fleur, in English for Potter, Daphne assumed.
"Daphne is always a surprise" said Potter . Fleur looked Harry in the eyes and nodded to Daphne and Harry, and left back to her table with Bill.
Daphne very softly asked "You and the Veela Potter?"
"Fleur only has eyes for Bill, and I think of Fleur as the wife of a big brother" said Harry. "I find Fleur perfectly resistible, thank you." And Fleur had said she was jealous that she, Daphne … Black had Harry's attention not her. Was, had that been a veela compliment?
"What does that Weasley do?" asked Daphne. She'd missed talking to him to talk about… dresses and things.
"Bill is a cursebreaker for Gringotts" said Potter "That's how they met. On a cursebreaking expedition."
"They're both cursebreakers?" asked Daphne, and that seemed … Fleur doing messy dirty things? She was part-veela, surely not.
"Yes" said Potter in an affected drawl. Daphne flicked Potter on the arm, and he, did he just smile?
Potter proceeded to explain about those Weaselys being Gringotts cursebreakers, about Bill having spent a lot of time in Egypt on cursed tombs, "Though since Fleur had little Victoire, she's not full time. Mrs Weasley, um, senior looks after Victoire when Fleur's at work."
"Victoire, an unusual name" said Daphne, and Potter had done that thing, of acting… married. It was a little disconcerting. He just… sat there and talked like daddy talking to mummy. Well not that she was going to call him 'Haree dahlink,' and drag him off to the study.
Potter continued to explain about Victoire Weasley, "Born just after the end of the war. She's a cute little girl. My Godson, Teddy ends up playing with her when the Weasleys look after him."
All this explanation by Potter, and a link to his godson. Was he hinting at that? She asked the question, dreading the answer "Do you intend Teddy to marry Victoire Weasley?"
"I intend for Teddy and whoever to decide who he marries when he's old enough. He inherits the house of Black, fortunately for us" said Potter firmly. So not a believer in arranged marriages, how unsurprising she thought.
Daphne nodded, relaxed a bit, Potter clearly understood what a disaster their lives were, and refused to continue the madness. Even shaved monkeys could learn, apparently.
Longbottom tapped a glass for attention and stood up. He made a speech, and made fun of Potter.
"… I shared a dorm room with Harry for six years. He, being Harry, dropped out of school and got involved with a dangerous crowd." said Longbottom, upping the ante.
There were snorts from the gathering.
"Harry was always the sporty, disaster-prone bloke with the messy hair" said Longbottom, tipping his head towards Harry, whose hair was… wavy and sleek.
"That is a good look on you" observed Daphne softly. He deserved some praise for making it not look like a birds-nest.
"Thank you" replied Potter quietly.
Neville flipped a card "Daphne has never had hair trouble, except for that one party when we were seven and the mud pies got airborne."
There was a small, polite laugh from the audience.
Daphne looked over at Longbottom. He was a distant relation, and it was true there had been a mud-pie incident. Still, he wasn't getting away with anything more.
"Harry's here as Harry Black, heir to his Godfather Sirius. I met Sirius one night, and he scared me witless" said Longbottom "Though Ron is the one with the really awful story." And that made no sense at all. Daphne looked over at Weasley – Auror Weasley, who was… was being patted affectionately on the back by Granger. Daphne felt a surge of… dislike for people who had boyfriends.
Longbottom went on, he'd never been one for talking as a small child, "Sirius was an innocent man on the run. And much like Sirius, Harry went on the run. Luckily for us, Harry's run ended back where we all started, at Hogwarts. Harry saved us, and now he's married to Daphne, who I hope will save us from Harry's predilection for adventures, and keep him in this much better-groomed state. Daphne has never been one for running, being far too subtle for that. Though she's a much better dancer, and that seems to be rubbing off on Harry."
"To the Blacks: may Sleekezys ever be in your cupboard." said Longbottom, smiling at Potter.
"The Blacks!" said everyone. Daphne felt bored dismay at the banality of it all.
"And I personally would like to say, cousin, that I hope Harry takes you for a ride on his broomstick, I spent years hearing about just how good a Firebolt is" said Longbottom, and he sat down. Daphne itched to hex him for implying that Daphne would… with his broom.
Harry frowned at Longbottom, and Daphne sighed. Shaved monkeys.
"Harry, your turn" said Daphne bluntly.
Potter stood up and pulled it a speech out of his robes and glanced at it. Then started to extemporise.
"Well, I was going to have a really fancy speech. Instead, I'd like to say, everyone, meet my wife, Daphne Black, she's the brains of the Black household, I'm, as you all know a retired school dropout, with two surnames. I wish my godfather was here today, He'd be proud of me, and probably tell me that there's no way I could have picked up a wife as pretty, well-educated, and sophisticated as Daphne. However, here I am, married. My family's a bit small; but I'd like to point out, over there, next to my Aunt Andromeda Tonks née Black, my godson Edward Remus Lupin, heir Black. If you watch carefully, Teddy's hair will change colour. He's a Black, and a metamorphmagus Black, like his mother, and the odd one or two every century going back a long, long, time. That's all of us; Aunt Narcissa's just made a career change to Inmate, she backed the wrong side in the war. We are not many, but we are the Blacks, and we are not going anywhere. Well, with the exception of Daphne, who might need to go to Paris again for some shopping."
The guests laughed politely. Potter had mixed compliments – which he never gave her, and annoyances, which he did by breathing.
Daphne frowned at Potter, who'd looked down for the frown. He'd known he was annoying her. ON PURPOSE. "I've said silly things, mildly irritated my wife, so I'd like to say one last thing, before I give my father-in-law, Cyrus Greengrass a chance to speak. Which is this, Roxanne, it wasn't my fault, Cyrus made me do it."
Potter sat down smirking. Daphne crossed her arms. He was getting socks for his birthday too.
Daddy stood up and looked thoughtful.
"Well Harry, with an introduction like that, no matter what I say, I'm going to have to think about my speech a bit" said daddy, and he tossed a few cards from his palm onto the table.
"Daphne, is as those who know me will know, my eldest Daughter and my capable assistant. I'm losing my unpaid assistant, and Harry's getting her. Which, after I asked Harry about his finances, means my daughter is going to be a very busy woman."
Titters from the guests.
Daddy waited a bit and spoke "Harry is, as everyone knows, brave, a powerful wizard and a pretty good Quidditch player. A shame he had to be in Gryffindor, Slytherin could have done with a decent Seeker."
Laughs from the guests. Daphne supposed daddy's speech isn't too bad.
Cyrus spoke again "I discovered, in the last few months, that Harry is also, an innovative dancer. Once he learnt to use Quidditch plays instead of trying to learn to dance, Daphne's disapproval of Harry's dancing skills dropped to record lows. As Daphne observed, if you're this good on a broom how can you possibly be a lousy dancer. I believe their first experiment in this was Harry taking Daphne across the dance floor in a Wollongong shimmy. She was impressed. Not very impressed, but impressed at all." The memory of dancing across the floor backwards, Potter pushing her along as unstoppably powerful as the Hogwarts express came to mind. Stupid quidditch playing shaved monkey.
A few laughs. Granger suddenly started writing something on a napkin. She can't be… oh god she is. She's taking notes to train her Weasel. Another Gryffindor quidditch player, another shaved monkey.
Daddy discarded a few more cards onto the table.
"Oh, Harry's paying for the bar, so don't worry." said daddy. "A lot of people give a speech at a wedding, and tell a lot of jokes, or talk about not loosing a daughter, but gaining a son. I'm not going to repeat that sort of sentiment. Harry Black's taking my eldest Daughter and giving her a lot of business to run, and I hope he lets her run it to the best of her abilities, because my Daughter's very good at it, and Harry's just not interested. And I hope Harry can forgive me, but I'm going to share a story Harry told me. Harry was going out to play his first ever Quidditch game, aged eleven and his Captain; Oliver Wood - who's with Puddlemere now said to Harry 'Go out there and catch that snitch, or die trying' Harry, being Harry, took Oliver Wood literally and ended up catching the snitch in his mouth as he hit the ground. Leaving a quite a rut in the grass. Harry and I had a night of stories and questions and part of what Harry said was this: that he plans to sit very quietly. Harry's had a truly momentous life and I hope now with Daphne doing the bits Harry's not interested in, he can sit very quietly. He's earned it, and Harry, thanks for marrying Daphne."
Daphne was quite surprised, Daddy hadn't talked about the night of shame before.
There was gentle applause and Potter looked at daddy, who was looking smug.
"Did you really say that to father?" asked Daphne quietly as the guests started to talk again.
"Among other things" said Potter with an undertone of… quietly menacing power.
After dessert, which does not feature treacle tart, (Potter can go to a shop for that) Daphne said to Potter "We are going to get up and dance a ..."
"Foxtrot?" said Potter. Like it was a question.
"Foxtrot it is" said Daphne. She stood, Potter stood up and took her arm, and they got to the dance floor. Potter was… supportive. Daphne said "Foxtrot" to the musicians, and they stopped what they were doing and changed music and started to play.
Potter and Daphne proceeded to foxtrot around the floor; it looked different to a waltz and was, easy enough even in these stupid heels.
As Daphne turned, she noticed that the table down the side of the room was groaning with presents. At least a dozen serving dishes with vegetables moulded into the bases, no doubt.
After the event was over, Potter and Daphne flooed to Grimmauld place and Daphne immediately hooked up her dress and took off her shoes; oh god the relief.
"Sore?" asked Potter.
"Nothing dittany can't fix" said Daphne, holding her heels in one hand. The kitchen was … miles cleaner.
"Which room do you want?" asked Potter.
"I'll have the refurbished master bedroom, thank you" said Daphne.
Potter helped her up the stairs, (also clean) to the ground floor, (looking clean too) then past the first and second floor, and pointed out the door "There you go" said Potter.
"Thank you, Harry" said Daphne, and she shut the door behind her.
The room was clean, nice enough, she supposed, large and a little under-furnished. It did appear that Potter had got decent cleaners in. He hadn't redecorated, but that it was her house now, so would be up to her, she thought. Less lamps with snakes, for one thing.
A minute or so later, her baggage arrived with a pop, the elderly house elf bent low.
"Mistress" it croaked.
"Kreacher isn't it?" asked Daphne. The elf rubbed its nose on the floor as it bowed still lower.
"A fire Kreacher, the room is cold" said Daphne, and the elf vanished with a quiet pop. Daphne started opening trunks to work out what was each one. In hindsight label tags would have helped, she thought. She looked over the trunks, to find one extra. An older trunk, black and a little cracked.
She opened the trunk. The smell of mothballs spilled out. Black tulle. Daphne listed it up. Black velvet. A pile of old dresses and accessories. Mostly in black or dark green. In much the same style as the late Mrs Blakc's unlamented portrait. Oh merlin, it was the old bat's out of date clothes. That trunk will keep.
Kreacher reappeared by the time Daphne knew what was in each trunk, and laid a fire with coal, which he lit and it slowly started warming the room. Kreacher eyed the trunks.
"Mistress. Shall Kreacher unpack for mistress?" creaked Kreacher. "Kreacher saved mistresses good clothes." Oh, he was actually mad. Brilliant.
"I must Kreacher, or I will not know where my things are." said Daphne, so she drew her wand and opened the one with her night-things, and got out the accursed wedding night robes, and her silk dressing-gown. The small box of bath things she levitated out and let it land next to Kreacher "Kreacher, these go in my bathroom. I shall call you if I need you."
The old elf clicked his fingers and the bathroom things vanished, then the elf with a bow and a pop.
Daphne levitated the trunks into empty spaces along the walls, and mentally made a note to get a dressing-screen. She conjured up a stand for the wedding dress, and wriggled out of it, and then out of the bustier, and into her silk dressing-gown. The room was still cold but not frigid.
Daphne got out of the remaining wedding day lingerie and set it aside with the dress. She put the dressing gown on her bed for a moment, and pulled on the wedding-night gown and did it up, and felt rather exposed, with the decolletage nearly to her belly. The dressing gown covered her up, and she put on her fluffy slippers.
The next problem was the bed, and it needed multiple warming charms to get to a decent temperature. Daphne put the potion vial mummy had given her on the bedside table, got a book on Muggle financial rules out of the small trunk of books, and went to bed. Potter would be along at some point, she supposed. She pushed the (quite acceptably soft) pillows around a bit, and sat up reading the book on muggle financial matters daddy had got her. Time passed, and Daphne pondered the existence of V.A.T. It seemed like a lot of work to comply with. She wanted to check the time, and had to get out of bed and find her bedside clock in a trunk to know it was nearly eleven.
By half past twelve Daphne was fed up with waiting for Potter, and she got out of the wedding-night robes, folded them neatly and got into a silk nightgown instead. She lay down to sleep and though sourly that At least Potter didn't come to deflower her. Though he'd kept her waiting and that was quite rude too. Daphne got to sleep eventually.
-==0==-
The morning light woke Daphne, in an unfamiliar bed, in a room that smelled faintly of rot. She sat up, and realised she was in her house. Mistress of all she surveyed. And no sign of Potter.
"Kreacher!" she called.
Kreacher the house elf appeared with a pop, bent so far his nose was nearly touching the ground again.
"Mistress" he croaked.
"Where is your master?"
"Half-blood in his bed, Mistress." croaked Kreacher.
"Well, begin breakfast. I do not eat bread or porridge, so meat, eggs and fruits." said Daphne.
"As mistress commands. Does mistress want a tray?"
"I'll rise later. Tea with milk and two sugars first" said Daphne.
"And… the master?"
"Can eat in the dining room." said Daphne firmly.
Kreacher wrung his long knobbly hands "Master, and old bad master ate in the kitchen" he croaked.
"No" said Daphne grandly. "Meals are served in the dining room. Do you understand me?"
"Yes Mistress" croaked Kreacher.
"Go." The elf vanished with a pop. He wasn't friendly like Glinkit, but he was at least capable of following simple instructions. The house elf was probably smarter than her husband.
Daphne lay back and considered making a list.
But first… a nap, the bed was soft and the pillows so comfy. Daphne closed her eyes and was woken later by a loud pop.
She looked down at the floor, and Kreacher had arrived with a small tray, and a cup of tea.
"Mistress, Master is eating" said Kreacher. Daphne held out her hand and Kreacher floated the tray over to her, and she sipped tea and yawned. She wiggled her toes – not too sore.
"Well, I suppose I can rise now" she said, and finished the tea, put on her dressing-gown and slippers and started looking for her clothes.
She got to the dining room and found that Krecher had set place-settings at opposite ends of the the immense table, and that Potter was up and dressed – as a muggle, and reading letters over the remains of his breakfast. And… the dining room was clean and the table well waxed.
"Potter" said Daphne.
"Daphne" said Potter, looking up from a letter.
"What are you reading?" asked Daphne.
"Letters, wedding congratulations" said Potter
"Keep them with their envelopes, so I can find return addresses" said Daphne "I'll have to journal who sent what. Especially once presents start coming, so thank-you cards can be sent."
"Oh. Do I have to reply to these?" asked Potter.
"You do not, that's my job" said Daphne. Shaved monkeys, she thought and got a plate and went to the chafing dishes to get some breakfast.
"Aren't you going to look at the business stuff?" asked Potter.
"As well" said Daphne, lifting lids and looking at the cooking. "Your task, I believe, is to sit very quietly, or was my father mistaken?"
"Quoting out of context" said Potter quickly.
"Boo hoo" said Daphne, with no sympathy for Potter whatsoever "There's not much bacon" she observed, looking in a tray that held a single tiny rasher.
"There was earlier" said Potter smugly, "I'll tell Kreacher to cook more in the future. Thanks for telling me all meals are in here from now on."
"Meal planning and location are my purview" said Daphne. Greedy prick.
And it transpired that Kreacher was capable of making an edible breakfast. Potter left without saying goodbye.
Daphne finished breakfast and took the pile of letters and went to the library to deal with them. The library was full of dangerous looking books and smelt of doxies. Daphne carefully avoided touching anything but the desk.
Then, as a treat, she went home to mummys, got changed and takes Buttercup for a ride, curried her and changed back into a house-robe to go back to Potter's house. Her house, she reminds herself.
The bloody owl bit her as she gave it a letter to send.
-==0==-
After two days, she realised Potter was not coming to her rooms in the evening, and stopped bothering to wear the wedding night robes. She had unpacked into her room now, and Kreacher put the trunks in the attic. She took to locking her door before bed. The best novel she owned is some consolation at night. Weeks passed, with a routine almost like her old one at… mummy's house, but with the faint smell of rot everywhere. No, Daphne reminds herself it's worst in the kitchen, and as you get higher, the rooms smell better. Not that she's going to enter Potter's room. Potter had evidently decided to keep the friends out of her house. Which is … acceptable, but he's always wearing muggle clothes.
Even at meals, and that means looking up from one's dinner to Potter looking like a … like a half tamed beast in those t-shirt things that leave nothing to the imagination. And on the occasions she ends up on the stairs at the same time as him, and he's wearing those blue denim trousers – they're far too form-fitting. That can't be comfortable.
Her routine anyway, has breakfast, mail, urgent correspondence, going for a ride on Buttercup, currying Buttercup, and off to see tenants. Then lunch, and into accounts for the afternoon. Dinner, some more accounts and bed, and possibly a well-used book. Its… good enough, if you discount the owl biting her at every opportunity. Well, and the hell that is monthlies. Pain relief potions help.
-==0==-
The next morning, after an early breakfast to get the bacon instead of Potter, Potter arrives, eats, quickly then says, unexpectedly. "We need to talk."
Daphne's stomach feelt like lead. Oh god he's going to make demands.
"What?" said Daphne, as saying 'yes' would set a bad precedent.
"Um" said Potter eloquently.
Daphne blinked, waiting for him to say something.
"About the library" he said. Daphne want to complain that she's only go the bloody library table to work on, but Potter goes off on an unexpected tangent.
"There are a lot of cursed books on the shelves" he says, then talked faster "Many are cursed to that non-blacks are injured if they touch them, and the darker grimoures on curses are lethal to non family. I'm fairly confident that as Mrs Black, you're probably safe touching the ordinary cursed ones. Oh and non-blacks get hexed by the doorway if they take books out of the library, so don't let anyone do that."
Potter pauses "You got that?" he ased.
Daphne nodded.
"Now. The Black Family have some family only spell-books in the shelves with the black fangs carved on the top. There's probably nothing useful to you in there, unless you want to learn some signature Black family curses. I wouldn't bother if I was you." said Potter.
"Uhuh" said Daphne "This is family magic under the definitions of the family magics act, I won't speak of it."
"Oh, right" said Potter "Now about that. The house is unplottable, muggle-repelled, and the walls are charmed to stop incoming spell-fire. Most of the interior walls can resist anything short of um… overpowered gouging charms, so if there was an attacker indoors, close a door and you're safe enough once the door's shielded. Some of the doors are enchanted; the Study door, your bedroom door, and the toilet doors are charmed against the unlocking charm."
Daphne felt the strange urge to take notes. Potter was like a messy-haired Defence against the Dark arts teacher. In fact, his tone was decidedly like Professor Lupin – the werewolf.
"Um. Oh this is important" said Potter, rubbing the hairs on the back of his head, only because the t-shirt thing was so tight, Daphne got a good view of his tricep and wiry chest. And the bottom of the damn t-shirt had come out of his blue trousers, and a strip of his belly showed with a broad vee of muscles and a tendril of black hairs going into his trousers. Daphne looked up at his face instead.
"What is important?" asked Daphne. Not looking at his naked waist. Or the hairs leading down to his… pants.
"The house is protected against apparation. You can't apparate in our out." he said.
She just waited for his obvious caveat "But I can, just like the headmaster of Hogwarts can make portkeys that work there"
Potter continued "But apparation inside the house is possible, at least with the security turned right down. It saves time, though stairs are good for your glutes."
Had he just alluded to her buttocks? Daphne gave him a glare.
"You're are fine… not that I look at them or anything" said Potter, and he started to blush.
"So to apparate somewhere, we used to um, go out the front door, and apparate from the park over the road. The whole front of the property is muggle repelled; they can't see it and we don't get muggle mail." Potter added.
Muggles have mail, thought Daphne. They use people not owls, she remembered which must be humiliating.
"The um, front door opens to any family, just open it" said Potter "And obviously, the lock senses Blacks. I think it works for you."
"I'm not going out there" said Daphne. It was muggle territory.
"In the event of an emergency, I can turn the house protections up; at maximum nobody gets in our out. We used to have the house under a Fidelius charm. You know what that does?" Potter asked.
"I read about it in a history of the first war" said Daphne. Potter sighed.
"How do you know so much about the house?" asked Daphne.
"It's in the family grimoire." said Potter "You can probably read it without dying; it tells you how to turn up the protections. Oh… and this is definitely a family magics thing."
"What is?"
"The um… the trace, for tracking children's use of magic. It's… it's blocked in the house. Um.. and a couple of other ministry tracking escryffels don't work here either." said Potter.
Daphne's brain stalled. Having a charm over one's manor that blocked the Trace was not that uncommon; Draco had bragged about it quietly, and some families had it. But… Potter knew what an escryffel even WAS. How did a quidditch player know about exotic divination like that?
"What… escryffels?" asked Daphne.
"This is … this is family magic, and you may not speak of it" said Potter, and suddenly the room felt like it was pressing down on her, the air too thick to breathe. The Black Family magic was… right there like lead poured in her throat.
"Within the house, the escryffel that detect the three Unforgivable curses do not work." said Potter "That's the dark secret of the Blacks. Well, one of them. There's also a shield over a nasty curse for inferii but that's not important."
"Oh" said Daphne. "Unforgivables. How… jolly." The pressure Daphne had felt from the air in the room eased.
"Anyway" said Potter. "In the event of trouble, walls are good protection, apparate once outside, of and house elves."
"House elves?"
"Kr – our one" said Potter "Can pop in and out. Don't call your family's elves here. They can't pop in or out and won't like it here. In the event of something dangerous, call him and get him to pop you to safety, very few people ever think to block house-elf apparation, it's saved my life a few times."
"Oh" said Daphne. That was a 'safety tip' she supposed. Never call Glinkit.
"And, just to show the Blacks really were paranoid bastards" said Potter casually "At maximum protections, even house-elves like Kr- our one can't pop in or out. If things start going downhill again, I'll get a Fidelius cast over the house, that'll stop anyone finding it, and the front door will stop siege curses, so it's quite a little fortress."
"Siege curses?" said Daphne, feeling incredulsous.
"Yeah. Does take a little blood to get going." said Potter, casually mentioning blood magic.
Daphne nodded woodenly. Right, bleed on the front door if you need it to stay shut. That's not creepy at all.
"Oh, that reminds me, there's a couple of blood-locked grimouires in the library, I'm not game to bleed on them, not a Black By Blood, so um, probably don't try to open them." said Potter.
"Which ones?" asked Daphne, more for clarification than any real interest.
"The two covered in chains, chained to the shelf, that bite if you touch them. I had Bill and Fleur look at them, um before you came, and they think it's not worth breaking the curses on them. Teddy will be able to look once he's older." Potter paused and frowned at that "Like… a hundred or so."
"You had ...Bill and Fleur come to check the cursed books"
"I had Bill and Fleur come to check the family grimoure was telling the truth about the protections." said Potter "And they helped de-curse the grandfather clock. It used to shoot crossbow bolts at people on the hour. Stupid thing, doesn't even keep good time."
Daphne could not help tilting her head. Potter was actually … bloody good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. "You checked" she said.
"Trust is in people, not mouldy old books" said Potter. Who… had just displayed reserves of intelligence that were well hidden normally. And he had stupid amounts of spellpower Daphne remembered. And… the Patronus.
"Could you um" said Daphne. Now she'd started saying it, it felt stupid.
"What?" asked Potter, lifting his eyebrows in what had to be sarcasm.
"Cast a Patronus. It makes everything feel better" admitted Daphne. "Because the house smells, and the faint smell of nutmeg would be better than rot."
Potter stared at her, looking puzzled, then his lips turned up, and he smiled, then unaccountably chuckled.
"What's so funny I read everything I could find about the Patronus charm and its' not even supposed to taste of anything!" said Daphne, suspecting Potter was laughing at her.
"It's...it's an accident" said Potter, and he practically giggled. He's gone mad.
Potter stopped giggling eventually, muttered "Must try that with Ron and Hermione" and cast his Patronus. It didn't dispel the smell of rot. Which meant it must be actual rot somewhere, not dark magic thought Daphne. But when Daphne touched the silvery stag, she felt the tingling, the sense of safety, and there it was... faint taste to nutmeg and cinnamon.
"Nutmeg and cinnamon" said Daphne "But only when I touch it."
Potter nodded "Curious" he said "But, I will need to experiment on my friends" and he smirked.
"It doesn't banish the odour of rot" said Daphne.
"It's not a room-freshening charm" said Potter drily "Or I'd be popular as a renovator" he added.
"The rot smell must be coming from something actually rotting" said Daphne "Apart from that your cleaners did a good job. I do need to decorate."
"Well, I only ask for less creepy lamps" said Potter. And Daphne had to agree. What sort of maniac wants brass fingernails on their snake-themed sconces. Slytherin house pride is one thing, but the Blacks had been nutters.
-==0==-
The difference in her and Astoria's ages means that Astoria's betrothal contract matures just months after Daphne's marriage to Potter – to Black.
Astoria, with some help from daddy and Tracey's dad doing the legal bits, fills in the proper forms and she becomes officially Mrs Malfoy. As Draco is in prison, Astoria gets access to the Malfoy accounts, and spends the first day ensconced with daddy. The Malfoy businesses have suffering badly from being neglected for three months, apparently.
Over dinner, Daphne tells Potter "The Malfoy businesses have suffered a bit from being left alone for three months." Potter gives her an odd look and mutters "One sympathises."
It's not till Daphne's in bed that she realises he made a lewd joke to her. She realises he was probably snogging the girl Weasley, and therefore hasn't had a snog in … many months. Daphne tempers any possible sympathy with the though that she's never had a snog, nor will likely ever get one.
The next day, Astoria finds Daphne in their shared bathroom at mummy's, washing up after currying Buttercup.
"Didn't you move out?" asked Astoria. Daphne dried her hair "I wash up after currying Buttercup. What's going on?"
"Troubles" said Astoria.
"Come to lunch?" asked Daphne. "It's only ever Potter, and he's yards away."
Astoria thinks briefly then nods.
Daphne has to wait for her at the fireplace, and then Astoria comes down the stairs in a hugely embroidered white robe she must have lifted from Malfoy Manor.
"Well I'm Mrs Malfoy, I need to dress like it" said Astoria. Daphne goes first, and leads Astoria up to her room, and chats as she changes behind the excellent dressing screen into a suitable robe for a married witch to receive company, and steps out to see her sister has been rummaging in her knicker drawer as she talks.
"Oy, get out of those" said Daphne.
"Where's the corset?" asks Astoria.
"None of your business" said Daphne.
"In his bedroom, you hussy" says Astoria still rooting around in Daphne's unmentionables drawer, and she turns to face Daphne, so Daphne can unleash her strongest most disapproving glare.
"Not, in his rooms?" asks Astoria quietly, a little cowed by her glare.
"There is in fact no corset. I have a waist, I just choose not to flaunt myself." said Daphne.
"Can I borrow some of your french stuff?"
"Kreacher!" Daphne snaps.
Kreacher appears with a pop "Mistress" he grovels at her feet.
"My sister, Mrs Astoria Malfoy is not to take anything from my rooms. You may detain her" said Daphne.
"Yes Mistress" croaked Kreacher and he looked over at Astoria who was trying to look innocent.
"I have my own house-elf, I am mistress of all I survey" said Daphne.
"I have… three" said Astoria. "But I'm not wearing Mrs Malfoy's knickers."
"But you'd wear Mrs Blacks?" said Daphne. "Kreacher, how is luncheon?"
"Ready for the right time, mistress." croaked Kreacher.
"Mrs Malfoy, Luncheon is about to be served" said Daphne.
"Have you shagged him yet?" asked Astoria.
"It's an arranged marriage, and he had to leave his girlfriend, Tori. He's not in love with me, and I'm not."
"Not what"
"Not going to… be with him. Not for years, one heir for Greengrass." said Daphne. "It's in the contract."
"You're not gay?" asked Astoria "If I was in your situation, I'd be in his bed."
"No you wouldn't" said Daphne. "I'm not averse to men, he's just… we're not."
"Well mines' in Azkaban. Because yours got in a snit. Surely that wedding dress had him snogging you?"
"That wedding dress did very little to him" lied Daphne. Making Potter lustful wasn't at all appealing.
Daphne led on down to the dining room, and sat at her place at one end of the table, and Kreacher had set Astoria a place at her right hand.
Potter was sitting in muggle clothes, eating. He stared pointedly at Astoria.
Daphne didn't deign to state the obvious, and sat down. Astoria saw the juvenile, and factually incorrect t-shirt he's been wearing for a while now. 'I defeated the dark lord and all I got was this lousy t-shirt'. Technically he got an order of Merlin, first class, which Daphne hasn't ever seen except in the Daily Prophet's photos. And rather more technically, he got her, a pure pureblood witch – one rated as the most beautiful teen witch in France, according to the French Teen Witch Weekly.
"Harry Potter" said Astoria "Why are you ...?" she stops, because she's read the t-shirt. Tori looked flustered.
"I'm at home and I'm not going anywhere, or expecting guests, so I'm dressed comfortably" said Potter with obvious contempt for her culture.
"Daphne, I've been thinking, I think you should use the office. After all, you're doing all the business things" said Potter. "I can use the table in the library."
"Please don't come to meals dressed like that" said Daphne, having had enough of the juvenile t-shirt, and of the sight of his pectorals and triceps. She's trying to eat, and the sight of Potter's… physique leaves her mouth dry. It's probably some mild nauseation with his arrogance.
Potter is actually a man of his word, apparently, and he vacates the office immediately after lunch, and Astoria can unpack the Malfoy accounts onto the office desk. The office that smells faintly of … Potter.
Daphne applies herself to understanding the Malfoy accounts. They're so much simpler than the decaying mess that is the Black accounts. Hours pass, as she explains things to her sister.
"Um, Thanks" says Tori "I know you're busy, it's just… I wasn't trained to do this like you."
They go to dinner, confident that Kreacher knows Mrs Malfoy is still here. Potter arrives late, in a tattered work robe over his muggle things. He looks dreadful. Like a tramp.
Daphne very politely drags Harry from the dining room, where Astoria's sitting, to talk in the hall under a privacy charm she casts wordlessly.
"Are you trying to humiliate me?" she asked Potter.
"You said wear a robe, I'm wearing a robe" said Potter, full of himself.
"My Sister will tell everyone you dress like a slob… still" said Daphne. "What kind of wife does that make me look like?"
"One who wants a pure-blood husband, and hasn't got one" said Potter, dismissively.
"And another thing. Your room is still hideous. You promised cover up those… loose women." she noted politely.
"Daphne, your parents betrothed you to the Black family, to keep you safe from the dark lord. Are you safe from the dark lord?" asked Potter facetiously.
"Of course I am, you killed him" admitted Daphne.
"So the marriage is performing perfectly" said Potter "Apart from ruining my life. I was going to propose to Ginny Weasley… once … things. Remember, I saved you too."
"Saved to have to look at this dump all day, and try to save your investments that you're too lazy to work on. You could at least fix the bloody house!" Daphne said, unable to keep it in any longer "Go put some decent robes on, I'll tell my sister you were doing something messy."
"No" said Potter "My house, my rules. You can dress like a fossilised matron all you like. I'm not getting dressed up unless I have to."
Daphne simply could not give a damn at that point and snapped "Mealtimes are formal dress."
Potter took a deep breath, doubtless to make some rude remark.
"Is a little respect too much to ask for" asked Daphne, feeling her anger and shame overwhelming her.
"Fine" said Potter icily, "Outside of mealtimes, muggle clothes."
"I don't own muggle clothes" said Daphne. Gryffindor quidditch players are shaved monkeys.
"I'll take you shopping. We live in London, an enormous muggle city." said Potter.
"Shopping? Clothes shopping?" asked Daphne, surprised.
"How hard can it be" said Potter.
Daphne pointed at the stairs and Potter instead apparated off to his room, like a jerk.
Daphne went back to the dinner table "He was doing revolting things, I made him go change" she said.
Tori frowned at her "You just… tell him what to do?"
Daphne shrugged, and cast a privacy charm "He does what he likes, I do what I like, but we have a few rules -"
A little later there was crack of apparation from the front hall. Potter strode in a green and black robe, and sat down, looking like he was about to start firing off dark curses.
Potter spoke up unexpectedly "Sorry for arriving at the dinner table in work robes."
Daphne looked up and blinked at the green and black robe, and Potter started on the first course.
After a while, Daphne cancelled the privacy charm and spoke loudly; it was twenty yards after all "Can Astoria come shopping too?" she asked.
"Why not, I think we could make a day of it, if you two can spare the time" Potter shouted.
"Coming from someone who does nothing" said Astoria not quite shouting.
"I don't understand the family business stuff" shouted Potter "I'm willing to learn, I suppose. Daphne used to manage the tenants for your father. Do we have tenants?"
"We do" shouted Daphne "Some even pay their rent. They object to landlords who don't fix anything and do no maintenance."
"Ah, well I'm quite good at fixing things. I can paint too" shouted Potter.
"Building maintenance?" shouted Astoria.
Potter stood up "I'm sick of yelling" he said and walked down to Daphne and Astoria and sat down opposite Astoria. "Daphne, Astoria" he said.
"Your dinner" said Daphne.
Potter drew his wand and summoned his place setting. It slid down the table and stopped in front of him. Potter rearranged it and took a bite of the fish, then spoke up "Gardens, lawns, fences, sheds, I've done all that. I helped clean this place in the summer of fifth year."
"You still haven't had the sinks and porcelain replaced" said Daphne, very evenly.
"So the sinks?" asked Potter, feeling a bit confused.
"And the loos" said Daphne, slightly embarrassed. "They're too rusty, and copper stained to scourgify."
"I've got an idea" said Potter, oddly enthusiastically "My muggle aunt used to buy stuff for that; and it worked quite well"
"Stuff?" asked Astoria.
"Muggle potions" said Potter. "They have a thing called chemistry, it's like potions, without the magic."
"So how does that work?" asked Astoria.
"I don't know" said Potter "I left muggle school when I turned eleven. You don't learn much except maths and English and a bit of geography in six years, though we did make a light go using four potatoes."
"No wand?" asked Daphne.
"Potatoes and a light bulb and some coins" said Potter "It's odd really." he said thoughtfully.
"You don't know any languages?" asked Daphne pointedly.
"No" said Potter "Just English and a tiny bit of Latin"
"And parseltounge" said Daphne.
"I don't think so any more" said Potter, getting up and walking over to the door handles of the dining room; which were snake shaped; squatting down and staring at them "Is this English" he said.
"Yes" said Daphne.
Potter stood up "Well, it used to be if I looked at a snake; or even a snake-shaped thing and talked; it'd come out as parseltounge. After the war, well, things happened, and I can't do it any more."
"Use an actual snake" said Daphne "It's rather cool" she said to Astoria.
"I think I can't do it any more" protested Potter.
"Summon a snake, go on" said Daphne.
Potter pulled his wand out and cast 'serpensatoria'. A green snake shot out of the end of Potter's light coloured wand and landed with a soft thud on the rug. Potter looked at the snake "Well, snake, sit still" he said.
"You really can't do it any more?" asked Daphne "You're not just acting up?"
Potter stared hard at the snake and suddenly his mouth parted and he hissed – and the hair on Daphne's neck stood up from fright. The snake flinched, the slid forward.
"Harry, you hissed" said Daphne. "See, he can do it." she said to Astoria who was standing to see the snake on the other side of the dining table. And she smiled tensely.
Potter hissed something long at the snake.
The snake waved it's tail a little. Potter nodded, thought for a second and lifted his wand.
Potter cast the snake-banishing spell and the snake went back to where it came from.
"Is that a real snake, or a conjuration?" asked Daphne thoughtfully.
"It wanted to know where it's nest was, so I think, it brings the nearest snake." said Potter.
"So you're a Parseltounge like Salazar Slytherin" said Astoria. "How awesome. You must be related."
Potter sat down at the table and ate some more fish thoughtfully. "Before… we had a theory about how I could do it" said Potter. "It had to do with getting some of Voldemort's magic stuck in my scar" Potter took another bite of fish and looked up. Daphne could only stare at him, her skin cold as ice "You had… dark magic stuck in your scar?" she asked.
"Horribly dark" said Potter glumly "Gave me headaches and horrible visions. I can't really explain it."
"Could someone from St Mungos explain it?" asked Daphne. How dreadful.
Potter shook his head "I know why… I just... shouldn't tell anyone. There are some things best kept as secrets. Voldemort dared to do some very evil magics. Probably, some of the most evil. We shouldn't discuss it" Potter looked up from his fish again.
Daphne could not help staring at Potter. Who'd just said more about the end of the war over fish than anyone had ever heard.
"You… didn't just drop out of school and come back just before the battle, did you?" asked Astoria.
Potter sighed "No" he said "But I agreed with Dumbledore to keep those secrets close. My best friends know. They helped."
"But not your wife" said Daphne Typical, he's probably got something horrible wrong with him.
"It's not that" said Potter, "Even knowing about this stuff is a risk. Other people could do it again and… we might not get as lucky again. Immortal dark wizards would be very bad."
"He was immortal?" asked Astoria, "How does someone do that!"
"That I cannot tell you" said Potter, in a mysterious tone, then he winced "God, now I start sounding like bloody Dumbledore." he said.
"Bloody Dumbledore?" asked Daphne. "You were… his star pupil"
Potter laughed a bitter laugh, that ended in a sob "His prize pig. Raised stupid and willing to be slaughtered."
"But he died, not you" said Astoria "Which is how come Daphne's married to you, not Draco."
Astoria complained "He's in prison, I probably won't see him again."
Potter smiled. Daphne looked at Harry and promised "If he stays in prison, I'll probably kiss you one day."
"I miss him" said Astoria.
"You're in a minority" said Potter, with a crooked smile. And he had no business smiling at her like that!
"How did Harry ever get that awful painting off the wall" asked Astoria. "Mother said it was a permanent sticking charm."
"Gouging hex" said Potter "And lots of 'reparo'."
"It's still a mess" said Daphne. "The whole hall needs new wallpaper."
"Can we afford to get it replaced professionally?" asked Potter.
"Yes" said Daphne.
"Then do it" said Potter.
"With what?" asked Daphne crossly.
"The gold in our vaults" said Potter.
"I don't even have an allowance" said Daphne.
Potter froze, and looked … like a first-year caught out of bounds. "You can have my key" offered Potter. "You're the money expert" he added.
"You trust Daphne that much?" asked Astoria.
"Of course I do." said Potter "Daphne's too smart to do anything stupid with money."
Daphne blushed. How dare he start complimenting her for the first time, in front of her sister.
