AN: A gentle reminder that this fic is indeed quite fucked up.
Alpharius Greengrass had refused to give the location of his manor, probably wanting to keep the place a fortress in case the worst came to pass. That or he was bluffing. Either way, it didn't matter much to Harry Potter, who had been given a portkey, or rather two of them for their visit. Hermione, however, was under the weather. Her stomach had been bothering her all week and it came to a head Saturday morning when she spent half an hour vomiting in a bucket.
He'd offered to take her to St. Mungo's, but she had taken a pepper-up potion and said that when he came back (she was too unwell to come and wouldn't be able to enjoy a lavish dinner anyway), they would go together if it was still bad. In any case, he had a cell phone that worked well enough that magic wouldn't screw it up and if there was any danger on his end—something he seriously doubted—Mathilda was but a whistle away.
They had decided it would be a good idea to check in with the leader of the progressive block. Not only was the manor home to Greengrass, his wife and his two daughers, but the two remaining Malfoy as well. Alpharius Greengrass had taken the wayward family under his wing—quite literally in a separate wing of his manor—after the war. This was an investment that was now proving to be less than satisfactory. The two political pawns were now only pawns of Harry and his group instead.
The order of the day was to take the Greengrass sisters and put them to work in their charity: The Eden for Wayward Witches. Donations were still sparse, but Harry still had a sizeable fortune that he could run the foundation on, and when the bill would go through, the profits from his share of the Wheezes would likely wipe out any losses he had accumulated. In truth, having the sisters at work where he could keep an eye on them was just another insurance policy against Greengrass rebelling.
And Harry was curious. There was something of a mystery about the girls, and Harry could never resist a good mystery. One placid, the other bright and cheerful, they had left a bizarre impression when he saw them during the ball, and that was without even getting into the Greengrass generational curse.
#
Instead of a house-elf greeting his arrival, it was Alpharius Greengrass himself, arms crossed, standing next to his wife, scowling. He still was very much opposed to the idea of letting go of his very adult and very sheltered daughters, but had still accepted the proposal for a visit. This meant he wanted something. A bold position for a coward to take with life-ending blackmail hanging over his head.
Cassandra, the wife with the offensively good-looking auburn hair, did not even greet him properly.
"If you think you can just waltz into our home and take away Daphne and Astoria, you are dearly mistaken," she said, spitting dread and anger.
"A pleasure, as always," Harry said sarcastically. "I'm here to employ them, not kidnap them. Besides, they are old enough to make their own decisions, unless I badly misunderstand the laws around legal age. I'm here because they never seem to leave the manor."
"If you knew them at all," Alpharius continued, backing up his wife, "then you wouldn't have suggested they go to work in your… charity." He put such emphasis on the word you'd think he were talking about a whorehouse, which Harry found ironic.
"Well I am here to talk to them, as well as the Malfoys, or at least Lady Malfoy. Can't say I'm too glad to have to witness Draco again. Are you going to leave me on the porch for the next day?"
"We're serving tea," Cassandra said, in a tone which suggested they would be serving basilisk venom instead.
Harry went on, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder from Alpharius. He didn't like how bold he had gotten, and Ginny's suggestion of getting rid of the Greengrasses and crucifying Draco was starting to look very appealing.
"You're making a mistake," he said. "Astoria… and Daphne, they're not fit for society at large. You can't take them."
Harry brushed the hand off his shoulder and fixed Alpharius coldly. "Just like your entire miserably existence, that is for me to decide. You can whinge one last time when I have decided, or you can just try me now, and see how that works out for the Greengrass name."
Clearly the purebloods didn't exchange notes on architecture. Greengass Manor was very much in the Victorian style. Great arches, earthy tones and the white bones of pale wood working its way through the large estate. Modest windows let precious sunlight into the rooms, and he was lead into a sun room in the east wing filled with plants that would have Neville go on a two hour rant.
The elves placed biscuits on the much-too-large table and disappeared as the guest entered. Narcissa Malfoy was patiently waiting, upright and in good form, wearing an eggshell white dress, and beside her the two blonde sisters stood as well. Astoria had the same proper posture, but Daphne in the middle was slouching and had an arm across her waist. The sigh coming from Cassandra as she walked over to them told Harry she had noticed.
Harry went on to shake hands. He couldn't quite get rid of the sick feeling that came from Narcissa calling him Lord Potter. Daphne greeted him with a simple hello and getting to Astoria he might have been blinded by how bright she was smiling.
"Hello, Lor— Harry Potter! It's nice meeting you again."
"Yes," Harry said, "it's been some time. How are you?"
"Wonderful, of course. We're having tea."
As it turned out, Astoria seemed to be leading the conversation.
"It really is nice weather for tea," she said, the ominous clouds letting scant light into the sun room. "I've been reading a lot of what you've been doing. In the Prophet, the Tribune and such. It really is amazing that you got into politics so quickly. That's what father says."
Harry spotted Daphne rolling her eyes as she sipped from her tea. Her shyness didn't seem to extend to when she was at home. He wondered if Draco was going to stay away, and while he was here to see what the vermin was up to, he wouldn't press the issue. So he wasn't too pleased when the blonde ponce decided to show his face. It took a great deal of effort not to curse him on the spot. Harry made a reminder to congratulate himself later.
Narcissa stood and guided him to Harry, who had stood up as well, sizing up his old nemesis. He looked quite pitiful, if well-groomed. He hadn't realised, but Harry had become a good deal taller in adulthood. So looking down on Malfoy was a new and fulfilling experience.
"Potter," he said.
"He's Lord Potter now," Narcissa said patiently. Harry didn't bother to contradict her.
"Malfoy," Harry said, painfully extending a hand. "How have you been holding up?"
"Lord Potter…" By the look on his face, the words must have tasted like ash in his mouth. "I'm well."
"Thanks to Lord Greengrass," Narcissa added. "Him and his family have been very good to us."
"I've heard," Harry said, glancing at Alpharius.
Malfoy took his seat next to Astoria, whose bright smile hadn't left her face even for a second of the awkward exchange. It was Narcissa who took up the conversation.
"If you want to discuss the bill, we can go to the study. Draco has been following recent laws so he can assist us."
The bill would meet the Wizengamot unopposed, and she knew that very well, but good on her for trying to include her useless son. "I think the process is already too advanced, and I'm not the strongest legal mind of the commission. Maybe an idea for a different bill in the future."
"That sounds good, doesn't it, Draco?" Astoria said excitedly. "If two smart and kind people like you work together on something, it could only be a good thing!"
Harry was taken aback by the magnitude of Astoria's bad judgement, so much that he was at a loss for words. Draco smiled at the younger sister and agreed, surely only to placate her. Harry was grateful for what happened next.
Daphne stood up and in proper form to address her father. "Father," she said mechanically, "I think our guest is getting bored of political talk. I'll show him the broom shed and the grounds."
Alpharius seemed to disagree, but after looking at Harry, he nevertheless nodded. Daphne bowed her head and told him to follow her. So he did. He had seen enough titbits of period dramas to know this is where the young Lord and the eligible Lady-in-waiting would have a romantic moment, so he was on his guard. However, as soon as they were out of view, the proper demeanour was lost and Daphne trudged through the fields and towards a stone shed in the middle of the lawn extending behind the manor. Stopping at a tree, she jumped to grab a branch and swung herself on it, like a muggle child would.
"I know you have dad by the neck, I heard him shouting with mum at night."
He stepped towards the shed to face the dangling Greengrass girl. "And?"
She let herself down with an 'oof' and rubbed the grime on her immaculate dress. "You're here to take us away?"
"I'm here to talk about it," he answered. "I thought we were going flying."
"Okay," she said impassively and moved to the shed, tugging at the door, and tugging harder when it wouldn't budge, opening it with a loud creak. She dug around for brooms, grabbing one, tossing it in the back. She took one for herself, and another for him. Hers was a high-end Cleansweep model and his an actual Firebolt. Harry looked on in horror as he spotted more fancy brooms tossed haphazardly in the shed.
"You're not much of a fan of flying," he noted.
"No," she said plainly, "but you said you wanted to, so let's go."
True to what she said, she wasn't much of a flyer. Being used to flying with Ginny, the Weasleys and Mathilda, he cringed at the unnecessary and brutish movements she made to tame the broom to higher altitudes.
"I don't like talking politics with dad's friends. It bores me to death, and you didn't seem like you had to. You know, now he's got nothing to say."
"I guess so. That's not why I'm here."
"So you'll marry us then?"
Harry almost slid off his broom.
"I hope it's both of us, I wouldn't want to leave 'Stori here. Malfoy is a horrid little creep, and a bloody coward. Wouldn't be much different than not leaving at all."
"I'm not marrying either of you."
She looked genuinely surprised. "But you're taking us away! That's why you're divorced right?"
"No," Harry said with a derisive laugh, "that's not happening. I divorced because my marriage didn't work out, and I already am seeing a witch that is very dear to me. How did you even come to that conclusion?"
"Because that's what father said!" she replied angrily. "We weren't supposed to leave until we got married, but then I asked Boot and dad said no. So I thought you were here to marry us and take us away. But now you're saying that's not true?"
It was very difficult for Harry not to be crass. "I'm here to offer you a job. It's our new foundation the Eden for Wayward Witches. You'd be working for a charity, highly regarded work, and you wouldn't even have to do much."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "That won't work out. Also I wouldn't want to join an organisation named EWW. Damn it."
"What?" Harry was utterly confused, and insulted at her dismissal of the name. "You don't even know what the work entails. You're fine with me marrying you—both of you! But you're not okay doing just a little work?"
"'Stori can't do work, she's not right!" Daphne said. "I'm so stupid. I thought I was finally going to leave, but I can't leave 'Stori. I thought I could, but no, I definitely can't."
"She's… not right?"
"Yes, she's not right!" she repeated. "You saw how she was, all wrong and saying stupid things and being stupid. She'd probably get raped, or killed, or kidnapped by pirates if she went working into the normal world."
"Pirates?"
"Whatever!"
It was silent as they circled the grounds of the manor. It was a straightforward offer. A job, an easy one, and the sisters would leave home and even become valued members of society. Clearly, it wasn't that simple.
"When you say she's not right… do you mean the curse?"
Daphne stopped her broom in mid-air, heavily lurching. "How do you know about that?"
"People talk. And I've seen it, with my own eyes."
"Seen it… Oh! You mean, like magic-seen-it. That makes sense, you are Harry Potter, after all. So what?"
"So, what kind of curse is it? How come she can't work in… the normal world?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "When we were little we got along great, we played and stuff. But she got… stranger, and stranger, and it's like I couldn't recognise my sister at all. Now it's like I'm not even her sister any more. She talks to everyone the same way, and she talks to Draco like he's her best friend. Doesn't matter who it is. Like with you."
Daphne had tears in her eyes and if Harry still had a heart it might be breaking right now. "So she can't be normal. She'd get chewed right up. It's bad enough with Draco here. She can't marry him and be a prisoner here, he's an awful little shit."
"All right," Harry said after a moment of deliberation. "If Hermione were here, maybe she'd be able to figure something out. It's good I'm staying until tomorrow at least, it gives me time to figure out exactly what is going on with your sister."
"That's the witch you were talking about, Hermione?"
Harry nodded.
They went back down to the shed and Harry cringed again as the expensive brooms were tossed with no regard for their quality. It had been an emotional roller-coaster for Daphne Greengrass, and a headache-inducing ride for Harry as well.
"Are you sure you can't convince this Hermione that you have to marry us?" she asked.
"Not if you value your limbs."
She nodded, still in a foul mood. Before they got back to the manor, she turned to him. "Oh in that case, don't be surprised when 'Stori propositions you tonight."
"She will… proposition me? How do you know?"
"She told me. Just don't tell dad, he'll be furious. It's not the first time she tries something like this."
#
From the crassness of Daphne to the strangeness of Astoria, it made for an eventful dinner. Not to mention the fact that Draco was there too. Harry's time at the Greengrass dinner table seemed like an otherworldly fever dream. He paid attention to Astoria, and as Daphne said, she seemed to want to suck up to everyone in equal measure. He had not noticed during tea, but she waited until everyone was finished to start her meal. Harry wondered if there was more at play than a curse, if Astoria hadn't been badly abused and gone off her rocker because of that.
But Cassandra was equally frustrated with her daughter's habit, and Astoria showed noting but a blank smile and gave a reassurance that she would eat when everyone had their fill. The manor could be filled by ghouls and dementors and it still wouldn't be as creepy as it was now. A good five minutes after everyone had finished, Astoria started on her now cold pork roast, smile never faltering. Harry excused himself and left outside with a last look at Daphne, who was broodily looking down, head lulling in her hand.
Out into the darkening evening, he eagerly took out his cell phone and hit Hermione's number.
"Hey you!" she answered.
"You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."
"Was it that bad? You're all right, aren't you?"
"Physically, yes. I thought dining with Draco would be bad enough, but it turns out the Greengrass home alone was enough to skeeve me out."
"What happened?"
He told her of his flight with Daphne and the dinner.
"The gall of that girl! Marriage!"
"Don't get worked up," he said. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay. Better, I think. Thanks for the chicken soup," she laughed. "Wish I were with you."
It had only been a few hours, but his heart was longing for her already. "Me too, love."
A longing sigh was her answer on the other end.
"So, before I stop making sense, do you have any idea what could be going on with Astoria… or Daphne for that matter."
"I don't know, what's your impression?"
"The way Daphne was describing it… well, it sounds a bit like what we went through, except almost in reverse."
"You think it's the same curse?"
"I didn't say that, but her being incapable of discriminating between a bloody stranger—which is what I am—and her own sister. I mean, we've gotten more selective with who we care for, haven't we?"
"To exclusion even."
"Right. Do you think it might be solely psychological?"
"I doubt it. Wizards get wizard-sick. Voldemort got wizard-mad. It would be a startling coincidence that she had the curse and something else. You didn't notice pervy Alphie act strangely?"
"If I went with my intuition, I would say it's not his doing."
"Well, I trust your intuition."
He smiled. "I love you, pumpkin."
"Love you too, honeybunch."
"We'll catch up when I get back, huh?"
"This long-distance thing isn't for us. I need you here… between my legs."
Her words stunned and excited him. She was right. Long-distance was a disaster. "I'm going to hang up before I get the urge to break this phone."
"All right, then," she laughed. "Good night."
"Good night."
#
He sat at the reading table in his room with quill and parchment, unsure how to make sense of what he had gleaned about Astoria. He'd drawn a big circle partitioned in the middle, starting out a reasoning from the basis of alchemy, but he wasn't sure how to proceed. He didn't even know what the curse had done to him and Hermione, never mind what was happening to Astoria.
It was nearly eleven when he remembered Daphne's warning and he thought she might have been wrong or lied. But eventually there came a knock at his door, and standing in front of it was Astoria, dressed in a night gown, and only a night gown, smiling brightly as always. "Can I come in, Lord Potter?"
Harry gestured to the room and let her in, and wondered if the change of address was deliberate or from forgetfulness.
"My sister told me she warned you," she said with a frown. "I hope that hasn't put you off or anything."
"Warning or not, the result would be the same," Harry said, "but I'd still like to hear it from you."
"Well," she said, clearing her throat, "I would like to offer to warm your bed tonight. We can have sex of course, or I can pleasure you. One of the girls had some books that described it at school, so I will know what to do."
"You've never had sex?" he asked incredulously.
"I almost did once," she offered. "One of my father's friends stayed over and we got in bed together, but we never got the chance to do anything. Father was quite angry, and I never saw the man again. Since then he's warned me every time there was a visit, but he didn't warn me for you, so here I am!"
Harry wondered what had happened to the man caught in bed with Astoria. Most likely Greengrass had called in a favour with Burke to see him disappear.
"Not Draco Malfoy either?" he asked.
"He wishes to wait until marriage."
Harry chuckled. More like he was afraid of getting thrown out of the Greengrass manor. And how satisfying it would be to one-up Draco in his own residence. It almost made him consider it.
"Please sit down," he said, motioning to an empty chair.
She did, primly, still smiling. "If you think I'm unsightly we can turn off the lights."
Harry ignored her disturbing remark and sat down across from her. "Why did you come here, exactly?"
"As I said, I wanted to offer to warm your bed, Lord Potter. It's said that it's the greatest pleasure a wizard can have."
"Didn't I tell you to call me Harry?"
She got nervous and closed her eyes for a moment, opening them again with her trademark smile. "I'm sorry. It just feels like I should use the title, respect my betters."
He was getting nowhere. The more she talked, the more he was confused. He would have to just extract the information straight from her mind. He took his wand from his pocket and put it on the table. "I'd like to use a spell on you to help me understand something, but it might be slightly painful."
"Will it maim me?"
Harry actually flinched. "No. Why do you ask?"
"Because father might be displeased if that happens. I'd rather not displease him."
"Right. Closing your eyes might be better."
She did so without hesitation, and Harry for the first time in a long while was scared of what he might find in the confines of someone's mind.
Around every corner of a memory, every fragment of recollection, he expected a beast to come bounding. Something horrid explaining Astoria's utter disregard for her own person. But there was nothing. He gleaned her childhood, where her tendencies were lesser. He saw her say no to Daphne asking if she could have her doll back, a contradiction to who Astoria was today. Scouring her past, he found nothing. Even Alpharius, the fallen Lord, was nothing but a model, if absentee father. Only one memory stood out.
A healer stood talking with Alpharius Greengrass. Daphne held Astoria's hand, squeezing it as her father's face fell. They looked to be about five or six years old and very nervous. Alpharius pressed his palms to his eyes. The blonde wizard in his prime then turned to his wife, eyes full of dread and resignation. Harry heard but a whisper. "She has the curse," he said softly, and Cassandra started crying softly into his shoulder.
Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose in a vestigial reflex exiting Astoria's mind. Opening his eyes, he saw her still smiling, the offending tendrils extending straight from her heart out into the reaches of her body. He had worked many strange cases as an Auror, but this one might just top them all. Whoever cast that curse on the Greengrass line must have hated the family with a burning rage. And it wasn't solved yet. He remembered her words before he read her mind.
"How do you know your father would get angry… if I maimed you?"
"Because he got angry before. Very angry, in fact. I still regret it. It made him take me out of school."
"Did you let someone maim you, Astoria?"
Clearly she was ashamed of something, or hesitant to say. Without a word, she dropped her night gown from her shoulders revealing pale white skin—dotted by dozens of tiny marks.
"What are those scars?"
"The cutting curse."
"Why did someone use the cutting curse on you?"
"Because they wanted to practice."
"And you let them?"
"Yes," she said, biting her lip. "I'm sorry my skin isn't perfect."
Harry was silent for a long time. Daphne had been correct, there was no way she could survive in public, let alone in the wizarding world which had a tendency for carelessness and cruelty. He kept staring at, and past her skin, to the great void left by the curse.
And then it hit him, he had been looking at things entirely wrong. His eyes flitted to the parchment on his desk, the partitioned circle, unblemished. He put his thumb over the middle of the circle and felt a burst of elation at the realisation.
"Do you fancy Malfoy? Do you fancy me?" he asked.
"I think you're both very lovely."
"And does Malfoy fancy you?"
"That's presumptuous for me to say, but he seems to enjoy my company."
Harry smiled and picked up the night gown from the floor, holding it up for her to put on. As she did, she looked worriedly at him. "Did I displease you?"
"No, you've been very helpful, but you can go to bed now." They went to the door and Astoria smiled at him one last time.
"Ah," he remembered. "Tell your sister I might have found a solution, that she won't have to leave you behind. And you can call me Lord Potter if you want, I don't really care."
"Thank you, Lord Potter."
He laughed in satisfaction as the door closed. He had done very well indeed. Hermione might even get jealous at how quickly he had figured it out. Of course, his magical eyeballs had helped, but he had solved the case all the same. Now, all that was left was a nighttime visit to Malfoy. He was even looking forward to it.
The manor was stupidly large, so it took him some time to find the room. A good thing he could see through walls ,because he didn't see any elves around to ask for directions. He knocked on the door and Malfoy opened it, frowning, his wand raised at his late visitor.
"Potter?"
"Careful with that," Harry said nodding at Malfoy's wand, "you might hurt yourself."
"What do you want?" he asked impetuously. "Did you make a midnight stroll to come and gloat at me?"
"You'll want to hear about it, gloating or not. Let me inside."
Malfoy did. He was, after all, a coward. "Well?"
"I had the pleasure of entertaining Astoria in my room earlier…"
Malfoy's wand flicked up, but Harry had sent a bludgeoning hex to his arm. He held his injured arm with a grimace.
"What did I bloody tell you about hurting yourself? Now, if you'll let me finish, I had a talk with the pretty younger sister and I learned some interesting things. Like how willing she was to spread her legs for strangers…"
Malfoy grunted in anger, but he was done fighting.
"I heard she did the same for you, but you were a perfect gentleman. Now, I don't buy that angle, but that's beside the point. Don't worry, I didn't act on her offer. The precious flower is still untouched."
"You're a real bastard, you know that Potter?"
"And yet you'll be thanking me when I'm done talking."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because I can stop her acting so self-destructive."
Malfoy stopped to consider, and he was suspicious, but dangling such a juicy possibility before him seemed to get his attention. Draco really did care for the girl.
"How?"
"Same way I got saved from certain death about a year ago."
Malfoy was remembering, thinking. Apparently he had read enough about it to understand. "You had an expert for that. How do you know it would work?"
Granted, it was dangerous, but given the curse wasn't fast-acting, Harry imagined it would be more dangerous in the long run. Worst case they both die years into the future, and Greengrass would certainly agree, given the chance. Astoria's memory showed him that despite everything, Alpharius cared about his daughters.
"You know, the wonderful witch that saved me also happens to be very smart. Given some time to study… We could even get Dennis to help, he's turning out to be a really dependable healer, specialised in curse damage too."
"Creevey? Why are you even helping me—helping Astoria?"
Truth was he wanted to see if the curse would make Draco into a more agreeable peon. It might be a tough pill to swallow for Ginny, who wanted him dead, but surely she could see the beauty into making Draco lose his sense of self, even in part. Also, despite himself, he found the idea of helping out the Greengrass sisters more and more attractive. At least Daphne didn't seem to be bound by conventional moral standards.
He picked the easiest half-truth. "Because I don't feel right leaving Daphne and Astoria as-is. It's not good for them to stay cooped up in this manor forever. I'd hoped they might want to help out with the—" He decided to take Daphne's advice. "—the Home for Wayward Witches. It's a good cause, and it lets them see people. And, they'll be helping me out, and the witches who benefit from the program."
"And what am I supposed to do then?"
Harry shrugged. "For once in your life, be selfless and help someone out without expecting something in return. If you love her, this is an easy choice."
He felt very proud in that moment. He had managed to channel his former self so brilliantly there was no way Malfoy could refuse. And he didn't. His face scrunched up in emotion and he nodded. Harry felt like going the whole way with his spiel and tapped his wand to Draco's bludgeoned arm, dispensing a healing spell. They shook hands, and Harry went back to his room. He slept like a log, occasionally visited by dreams of Hermione's longing moans.
#
The next day he had a private chat with Alpharius and Cassandra. Alphie looked genuinely surprised that the cutthroat politician would offer a chance for his daughter to be healed. At least after being shocked that he even knew about the curse. Cassandra seemed won over as well, and apologised for misjudging Harry, which Harry couldn't help but find ironically humorous. She did not offer him a free pass to come by any time, but she did tell him to call ahead and he would be happily welcomed.
He said his goodbyes to the sisters, and to the Malfoys, Narcissa blissfully unaware that her son had agreed the night before to undergo a dangerous ritual. Daphne looked like she had perked up. He felt like a million galleons and lost no time taking the portkey back to London, immediately apparating home. He was impatient to tell Hermione all about his visit.
He looked in the parlour and the library. Something seemed to be wrong when he found her sitting on the bed with—his heart nearly stopped—tears in her eyes. He put a comforting arm around her small frame and kissed her cheek. "Hermione? What's wrong?"
"I went to St. Mungo's…"
His heart really stopped now.
"…and I did some tests and…they said I'm not pregnant."
Harry put a hand on his chest and let out slow breaths trying to calm himself.
"Can you choose your words more carefully next time? I nearly had a bloody heart attack. What do you mean, you're not pregnant?"
She looked at him with misty eyes and he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
"Well… when I got sick, I started looking in books and stuff… and my symptoms said that one of the possibilities was that… that I was with child. So I got it in my head, and I couldn't get it out. I got really excited and I decided to go to St. Mungo's. I didn't want to do it at home, in case I got things wrong—for the baby—if there was one. And then they told me I wasn't pregnant."
He let out another deep breath. Thankfully even this discombobulated, Hermione was still much easier to understand than generational curses. "You were hoping you were, weren't you?"
She nodded into his wet shirt.
"Hermione," he said gently, "we have plenty of time. And if tomorrow you want to chuck all contraceptives out of the house, that's that. And if you don't, that's fine too. Nothing would make me more happy than to have a child with you. I'm just happy to have you, okay? Try to not scare me like that in the future?"
"Sorry," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So, how did it go?"
Harry laughed. "Do I have a story for you. This is going to get your spirits up, I promise."
