Chapter 13
Daphne
Daphne regretted letting her emotions show, however briefly. Fortunately her indiscretion was quickly overwhelmed by the Weasley brat. The red head showed herself to be embarrassingly stereotypical as she raged at Potter, swatting at his head to punctuate every syllable of her obnoxiously loud rant.
"Harry! You! Ab-so-lute! Git! I! Thought! You! Were! In! Trouble! Or! Dying! A-gain!" Potter didn't really try very hard to fend her off, mostly just half-heartedly blocking his eyes. Daphne tuned them out as she attempted to get her emotions and thoughts back under control.
Daphne was still feeling unbalanced. In the back of her mind, the echo of Weasley's shrieks sounded like Astoria or Mimmy. Even deeper in Daphne's mind were the echoes of her own cries from the last time her father had taken his crop to her own flesh. Daphne needed to take control of herself, and this situation. There was no guarantee now that Father wouldn't be waiting for her when she returned. If she didn't either have a solution to the contract, or information her father would value, Daphne didn't trust that she could safely return home tonight.
So, resolved that there simply was no room for failure, Daphne forced the horrors of her memories back below her conscious mind. As satisfying as hitting Potter and acting like a spoiled child might be emotionally, it was not going to solve anything.
"Look, Weasley, I'm here to help Pot-Harry figure out if there is any way whatsoever out of this problem. Maybe a bite of supper if there is any extra. I'm sorry he apparently sent his elf for you as well without telling either of us, but this display isn't solving anything." Daphne did her best to keep her voice steady and without emotion, hoping to regain control. Daphne had very little control anywhere in her life, she was not going to let Ginny Weasley take away what little control she had built up so far with Harry.
At least, that was what she was telling herself before she felt a wand halfway up her left nostril and saw the look in the younger girls eyes. How were all these people so fast?! Daphne hadn't even noticed her whirl around. She didn't dare move or say anything to further test the red head's infamous bat bogey hex. Fortunately, the wand left her face as quickly as it had appeared, landing in Potter's outstretched hand. He too had whipped out his wand, and disarmed Weasley with a speed and skill that terrified Daphne more than a little. She had heard Potter struggled with nonverbal casting. That even his final spell against the Dark Lord had been cast verbally for all to hear.
Yet clearly Potter was more than capable of performing a disarming spell nonverbally. Could he have been confident enough in that final confrontation to have deliberately cast the disarming spell verbally, to spread the legend of how he had only needed a simple disarming spell to defeat the greatest dark wizard ever known? Or was it something else? That amount of forward thinking and control didn't fit with anything Daphne had seen or heard of Potter. It didn't fit with the absurdly ignorant political novice she had seen all day in the Wizengamot.
Perhaps it was just a reflex on Potter's part. If that was the case, it spoke well to Daphne of her influence over him that he would disarm his ex to protect her. Whatever the reason, Weasley was back to smacking Potter. This time though, he finally made at least some attempt to defend himself verbally.
"Ow, Gin, stop!" he cried.
"Don't you 'Gin' me Harry. Give me back my wand so I can hex some humility into this stuck up twat!" Ginny responded.
Daphne was ready to tell Potter to give the fiend her wand back so she could challenge her to a duel, when Potter actually responded for her. "Not until you calm down Ginny. I'm sorry this situation is so fucked. I promise you I am. But I don't know how to make this stupid contract go away. Daphne might. She doesn't want this anymore than we do. Her father is a complete Malfoy level git of an arsehole. I want to have my first dinner in Grimmauld with you Ginny. I love you Ginny. But Daphne is invited too, and you need to at least be cordial to her while we try to figure out a solution. Please."
Daphne was stunned by his willingness to defend her. Unfortunately Ginny Weasley was not as easily stunned, clearly. "Cordial?! She stood by and watched Neville get whipped, Harry! She stood there when Crabbe and Goyle used the Cruciatus on 1st years. I know you weren't on holiday last year, but it was horrid, and she was perfectly happy to treat it as normal. How cordial is that?!"
Daphne really wanted to curse her father. She knew, KNEW neutrality in the face of such barbarism was no better than an endorsement in the eyes of the victims. Yes Daphne thought they were idiots to antagonize people with power and a demonstrated will to do harm, but now those with power thought she supported the torture, because father had forbidden her from saying otherwise.
There was only one thing for it. She had to nip this before it completely derailed the night and forced her to return home to father empty handed.
"You're right, okay?" Both Harry and Weasley froze and stared at Daphne's outburst. "Last year was a travesty, and you bravely resisted it, while I did not. I'm not proud of my behavior. I didn't agree with what was happening. But we don't all have the luxury of friends and family who support speaking up. My father is beating my sister as we speak just for having some drinks and dancing alone while we were out today. What do you think he would have done if my actions brought the death eaters to his doorstep?! What do you think he'll do if I tell him I'd be willing for our entire family to lose our magic, possibly even our lives, to protect your ability to date Harry?"
They both remained silent, so Daphne pressed her advantage. Letting out the tears she had been bottling for the last hour, all the rage she had been ignoring this week.
"All I want is to live my life, like a normal witch. I don't want to be forced into a marriage I don't want, I don't want to fear my father anymore. I'm pure blood Weasley. I don't have the connections your family does if I am cut off from my family's vault. I don't have my own income. My freedom, possibly my very life, depends on finding a way out of this contract, that doesn't make me unavailable to others, or isolate me from my father. If we, the three of us can't manage that, My options are marry Potter, or die. I don't want this, but make no mistake, I don't want to die. Not yet. If I die, I want it to be the first thing I've done entirely on my own terms my entire life! Now, Harry asked me to help him and Granger look for ways out. If you want to help, great, but if not, either declare a formal duel or BACK OFF!"
Daphne imagined the famously fiery Weasley had very little experience being in stunned silence, and saw She was already about to blow again. Daphne was very grateful Potter had the girl's wand, or Daphne was afraid she'd actually have to duel the younger witch. A duel she was fully aware she would likely lose. Daphne knew useful charms, helpful potions, and business. Weasley knew combat.
Fortunately, Otter seemed to be fed up with his former girlfriend's tantrum. Daphne had to admit, If her hopes of a solution failed, she was opening up to the positives of a marriage to Potter, it certainly would be better than remaining in her father's house or marrying Malfoy as her sister very well may still need to do. Potter cut off the brewing retort with a flick of his wand shooting sparks between the two of them.
"Enough! Look, It's been a long day. I want some supper, I want to try to figure out if we can get out of this situation in a way that helps all of us. I would like it if the two of you could join me for all that, but if you can't, I'll see you some other day. So, can you both play nice? Please?"
Daphne tried not to let her annoyance show. It wasn't both of them throwing fits. But She supposed this was what The red headed brat needed to assuage her ego. So Daphne simply nodded, in what she hoped was a properly prim manner. It was amusing, at least, to watch Weasley visibly struggle to get herself under control enough to agree to Potter's demand.
Clearly, Daphne thought, The girl was far too gorgeous for her own good. That stupid Flame colored hair, her athletic body, her passionate personality, The girl was far too used to being given her way immediately.
When She had agreed Potter slowly returned her wand to her. Daphne's own wand had still not even left it's home in her sleeve pocket in her robe. "All right then. Ginny, I've moved fully into number 12 Grimmauld Place. Now that you can see it again, let's get some food, and we can talk with Hermione and Ron, and see what options we have. Please." Harry gestured towards the doorway, and Daphne followed Weasley into the House.
At first Daphne was annoyed at how she couldn't ignore the salacious, almost aggressive way Weasley was swaying her rear-end. Small wonder that even Slytherin men in Daphne's year told each other barely whispered tales of the red headed Gryffindor's assets. The slight bounce with each step, almost hypnotized Daphne.
In any other house, it likely would have been the distraction that the strumpet so obviously intended it to be. This house though, Daphne was impressed. This could only have been the Black's summer home, not their true manor, yet it held up every bit as elegant as Daphne's own Greengrass manor. Daphne could all but smell the ancient magics in the very walls. There were surely ancient secrets and powers hidden away within this well secured magical oasis muggle London.
Daphne knew some of the history of houses in this part of London. The upper classes, Muggle and magical alike, would spend the spring and summer at London houses like this one, engaging in politics and social events, then return to their true homes in the country when it got colder. Daphne knew her own great-grandfather had made a fortune when he sold the Greengrass home in the late thirties just before the blitz. The profits from the sale had helped the family for decades Daphne knew.
Daphne was impressed that she immediately recognized architecture signs of the age of the home. The home had clearly survived the blitz, and then multiple wizarding wars, unharmed. Daphne had never known that the Blacks had been one of the rare families to maintain their London house so long. Even most Muggles had just focused on their country homes for the last century at least.
For a family as famously secretive and dedicated to staying separate from Muggles, the Blacks had stayed in a neighborhood that was now entirely muggle. Was it their stubbornness, their pride? Or was it something else? Perhaps the blacks had been capable of more subtlety than Daphne's father had given them credit for. Maintaining as not just a residence, but a primary residence, a House where the center of trade and government was located surely helped the ancient family in untold ways through the decades. Had the family not been so completely unlucky in the last two wars, marrying into this family surely would have been even more advantageous than her father could ever guess.
Harry led them to the dining room, where Daphne recognized what must surely be a fourteenth century hand crafted table. The tapestries about the hall and dinning room belied a subtle aristocratic taste far more subtle than most pure blood families preferred. Daphne knew there had been no occupant for over a decade, but surely if there had been entertaining in this house, it would be far grander than it now appeared. Which meant that this must have become the Family's retreat. Their place away from expectations of society pressures. This would be where the real secrets and treasures of the Black family reside. Not at whatever country home She now wondered if Harry even realized he must surely own, but here, hidden away where no other pureblood would be likely to even think of finding it.
Daphne tried not to get suspicious over the fact that Weasley clearly knew her way around the old house. Neither taking in the majesty, nor needing any aid to find her way to the correct room. She supposed it made sense that the girl would have been here before, Potter had all but said as much with how he had told her of the location. The building must have been protected by the Fidelius charm, which was both a blessing and an annoyance when Daphne realized it. She would be unable to tell her father most of what she experiences and sees in this ancient house of Black. Which would likely protect any secrets she would wish to keep for herself, but also prevent her from divulging information that may appease her father's wrath.
Daphne was yet more determined to not let Weasley's presence ruin her night with Potter. She would even be polite to Granger when he used the strange mirror to contact the muggleborn know-it-all. Because Daphne absolutely had to end this visit with either a clear way out of the contract, or Harry's absolute devotion to her protection as his fiancé. Anything in between would certainly leave her at her father's mercy at his most enraged.
"Your home is absolutely lovely Harry. Thank you again for allowing me the honor of seeing it tonight. I'm hopeful we can make progress together tonight." She didn't want to lay it on too thick, so she kept her tone mostly one of respect, hoping it didn't sound overly cloying.
In the seat next to her, the red headed brat just snorted. "Oh yeah, I'm sure a stuffy snob like you would like it here. I bet you feel right at home surrounded by dark magic practically pouring from the very walls." Before Daphne could reply, She turned to Harry and continued, much more sweetly. "Though it is far nicer than before Harry. How did you get it so much more habitable?"
Either trying to focus on the more positive conversation hook, or just ignoring the hostility towards Daphne, Harry launched animatedly into explaining the apparent change in décor since whenever Weasley had last visited, just as an incredibly old house elf wheeled in a tray of supper for them.
"Actually it was Kreacher here who really did most of the work." seeing Weasley's incredulous look, Harry explained.
"I know, but when Hermione, Ron and I were here last, we finally reached an understanding. I expect Kreacher will never apologize for what he did to Sirius, but then, Sirius never apologized to Kreacher." The bullfrog head of the elf dipped in what Daphne assumed was supposed to be a respectful bow at this acknowledgement by his master.
"Harry Potter and Kreacher will both help replace what has been lost. Kreacher is finally honored to again serve the most noble and ancient house of Black, in ways he has not in many years. Kreacher hopes the mistresses like their supper. Will there be anything else?"
Out of habit, Daphne ordered for some tea. Hastily explaining to the elf how she likes her tea, since this was not Mimmy, who knew her tastes so well. Harry meanwhile was explaining to Ginny the apparent transformation in the elf. Daphne gathered that the elf had wronged his previous master, and even Harry and Weasley directly. As much as Daphne wished to regain control of the conversation, hearing Harry explain what head actually been doing the last year was far too fascinating to interrupt.
As Harry spoke, Daphne barely even noticed the delivery of her tea, but it was perfect. Daphne couldn't believe that Sirius Black had failed to realize what a quality Elf he had in this Kreacher. Daphne actually hoped she'd get a chance to introduce her own family elf to Harry's Mimmy could likely learn a trick or two from the old elf. The food was excellent as well.
Harry told an absolutely incredible tale of his last year, including a period hiding out in this very house, when it was far less secure than it currently was. Daphne was impressed. Weeks hiding right under the ministry's nose, even infiltrating the Ministry itself, all when most assumed Potter had gone abroad, perhaps even to America, Daphne recalled that the rumor was at the time. Daphne couldn't even fully grasp everything Potter discussed, and she got the distinct feeling he wasn't being fully honest. A skilled withholder of information, Harry Potter was not. Even still, Daphne realized, Harry Potter had delved into deeper magical mysteries than possibly any wizard since Merlin.
"So yeah, just when it looked like things could get back to normal, naturally my life has to throw even more troll dung my way. Kreacher has actually been a lifesaver getting the place livable this week. I don't know what you went through Ginny. And we can't get that stolen time back. But our future can still be ours. We can help get Daphne a future. But we can't do that if you two are sniping at each other all night. So, Ginny, can you please stay a few hours, and help us?" Harry looked right into Ginny's eyes, "Both of us?"
"Oh, all right, Harry, I guess she can't be all slag- Sorry, all right? I'm sorry." that last part was in response to a look from Harry Daphne thought could have boiled a potion. Turning to Daphne now, "Look Greengrass, I don't like you, I don't trust you. But if you really want to break free from the stupidity of your parents, if you really don't want to ruin Harry's life, then we are on the same side."
Weasley extended her hand. As apologies went, Daphne had seen better, by far. Perhaps some small trace of pureblood pride existed in the Weasley family after all. Daphne took her hand, and both women met the other's eye. Neither squeezed, but neither wanted to be the first to break the contact either.
With an internal sigh, Daphne decided as the elder party, she would be the one to choose maturity. Just as she had all her life. Letting go of Weasley's hand, she said, "I'm sorry last year was such a horror show. All I want is to make this year better. Thank you for any help you can give." To Harry, she said, "now that we have dined, which I do thank you for, it was quite good. Shall we use your trinket and call Granger? Depending on what the bookwork has found, I'll have a better idea what we will need to look for here in the Black home."
Harry blinked and looked at her for a moment before saying, "Wait, you think there might be a way out of the contract here? Why?"
"I don't know, but my father keeps all his most important documents in his study. He doesn't trust even Gringotts with documents, I would not be surprised if most previous Blacks were similar. Even if we do discover we will need to check your Black vault, eliminating documents you could find here would save time and effort. Not to mention embarrassment in returning to Gringotts after that story you just told us." Harry gave an embarrassed chuckle at the idea of facing the Goblins again.
"A dragon? Honestly Harry, can't you do anything simple?" was Weasley's contribution to ribbing on Harry.
"Come on! It was wrong how they were treating it anyway! Besides, I don't think anyone at Gringotts actually knows it was us. Tom killed too many of the witnesses. With the rebuilding, I'm sure everything will be alright….although I do admit avoiding Gringotts if possible sounds nice for now."
Both girls sniggered at Harry's failed attempt to save face. Cutting his losses, he pulled the small mirror from a pocket and called out to Hermione. Even as he did, however, Harry hastily hissed a request that Daphne grab some bag from the entryway, and Ginny grab some papers Harry had left in the hall. Daphne immediately spotted what had to be the bag in question, just inside the entrance, obviously dropped by Harry unthinkingly after getting home.
Daphne could hear Granger and the Weasley from their year coming from Harry's palm. "I'm so glad you and Ron are alright Harry. I was honestly so worried when Ron told me what the plan was."
"It was fine 'Mione! Harry and I aren't exactly unfamiliar with dueling Death eaters. Honestly, Harry and the trap did half the work for us. The day I struggle to duel a Goyle, young or old, I promise I'll put away my wand for good."
Harry didn't seem to notice her and Ginny returning, already continuing the trend Daphne had observed from a distance for seven years. What it was about those three that made them struggle so to not immediately shut out all others. Daphne could understand ignoring herself to some degree, but even the Weasley was being ignored by her own brother and ex, it would appear.
"Yeah Hermione, it was actually pretty fun, I've got guests, Daphne and Ginny came over for supper, so I won't go into to many details," Daphne could almost feel the verbal elbow to Weasley's ribs for what Daphne had overheard about Goyle being captured, "but it felt good to do good. I think I might turn into a complete nutter if I have to talk in circles at the wizengamot without actually achieving anything real full time."
"Harry, You shouldn't talk like that. Don't forget Fudge and Umbridge. The wizengamot can do so much, and you can make it do more good than bad. I hope After I get my N.E.W.T.s I can get involved myself."
"Hah!" Daphne regretted the laugh as soon as it escaped her lips. She just couldn't help herself. The idea was too absurd, that Harry, a Lord by right, bemoaned his boredom with the speed he was remaking their entire society with, and the admittedly brilliant muggleborn desperate for the one job she wouldn't be a guarantee to get.
They were all staring at her, and Daphne could just tell they would all interpret her in the least charitable manner possible.
"All I mean is, it is funny, if you look at it. Ten years ago, Granger would have been lucky to get a ministry job at all. Something small and unimportant like a junior clerk to the department of misuse of muggle artifacts. Despite her brilliance, I know, I've watched her beat me in every class until last year, she'd never rise higher than assistant to a small department head."
"You, meanwhile, Harry, could be whatever you desired, even as a halfblood. Heir to the Potters as well as the Blacks? Wealth, talent, connections? If you wanted to be a professional quidditch star, it'd be yours. Minister of magic? People would likely vote you in today. A man of leisure? You certainly have the means to never do anything again for your entire life. Even the likes of Lucius Malfoy or my father struggled and connived and fought their entire lifetimes for a fraction of the power and influence you have at your feet."
"You each want what would have been guaranteed to the other 10 years ago, and denied the other. Yet, for all you complain about things not changing enough, and as a woman forced into an unwilling betrothal, I do agree, you have already flipped the entire world upside down. Granger will be given any job she asks for from Shacklebolt. Merlin, I imagine he'd give her his job just to relieve the stress of understaffing all the arrests and corruption charges are bringing about."
"So I'm sorry, Harry, that you have power other's would literally ill for. You have it, and you can't just give it to Granger to make it go away. You're going to have to wield a little of that power, and Merlin help me, but there is still a real possibility I'll have to listen to you whinge about it the entire time! so , sorry if I interrupted your little golden trio reunion with my inability to mask my incredulity. I'll try to remain quiet and out of the way the rest of the evening if you'd like. After-all, if you really wish to just be passive all of a sudden, we'll have plenty of time together anyways"
They all looked at her, she could even see Granger and Weasley's eyes through Potter's odd mirror. This was why owl communication was better. You didn't have to worry about people looking at you when you communicated. You had time before they responded. This mirror was unnatural, and Daphne really hoped it was sold as a gag or joke item, and not as the revolution in magical communication it was. She wanted no part of a world where everyone always saw your face, all the time.
Potter, of course, was the first to recover from his shock at her little tirade. Edging out the bushy haired know-it-all and gorgeous young redhead firecracker by mere seconds, Daphne was sure. She imagined the youngest Weasley son would think of a response sometime the next day.
"Okay, alright, I get it Daphne. No," Harry continued, cutting off the brewing outbursts by the other women in the conversation, "I don't just want to be passive. I don't think after the life I've lived, asking to be left alone is too much, but clearly that isn't going to be the case. Now, It's late here, and early for Ron and Hermione. I don't want any of your parents cursing off my bits for spending all night in my house. So can we put all our bullshit aside, just for tonight, and focus on figuring out a way out of this bloody contract? Please?"
Daphne met the Weasley girl's eyes. Trying to ignore how much prettier they were than hers, how easy she assumedHarry could get lost in these eyes, while doing everything he can to avoid her own. Daphne would not be the first to break. It was Weasley who had been wrong, and Daphne wanted to hear the girl admit it.
It didn't take longer than a few seconds for Daphne's small triumph to realize itself.
"Fine," grumbled the other girl, "truce, for now. But don't you think for one second, Harry Potter, that I'm getting sent back to the burrow and mum before we figure something out. I didn't get to help you last year, but you won't stop me helping with this, damnit!"
As apologies went, Daphne gave it a two. But it still was better than much of what Daphne had gotten this last week.
"Truce, I think we all don't want to leave tonight without a solid action plan figured out. I certainly am not interested in taking a beating for how this has gone so far." Daphne almost regretted being so honest, but she knew Harry's hero complex would work to her advantage here.
Work it did. Although Daphne didn't relish being grilled by the whole group for the next hour while they all finished their meal, by the end, even the two Weasleys were ready to declare duels against her father if necessary to protect her. Harry even tried to argue she shouldn't return at all, damn the impropriety of her living in his house while seeking to break their betrothal.
Daphne demurred, not wanting to invite the scandal, no matter how insistent Harry was about how many spare rooms there were. After Dinner, or breakfast on behalf of the other two members of the golden trio, as Daphne gathered, they retired to the den while Daphne walked them through everything she knew. It took twice as long as necessary, as every new point of information was meticulously questioned by Granger, and she didn't often fully believe Daphne unless confirmed by one of the Weasleys. After the fifth time that occurred, Daphne almost broke the truce again.
"Look, I don't want to be rude, I'm trying to be respectful. But There is a lot of traditional, wealthy pureblood society that is bound up in this contract, and Weasley's rather famously aren't up to date on the ways of the elite! I'm sorry, but on some of this, you really are going to have to start trusting me."
Naturally, that perfectly reasonable and restrained outburst derailed them for nearly fifteen minutes of snipping before Harry and Graner restored order. Daphne, giving credit where it is due, admitted that Granger actually took her message to heart. She still was a nosy, know-it-all busy body with opinions on every aspect of pureblood culture that clashed with her own metropolitan muggle upbringing, but she at least started taking Daphne's word on the cultural background information for the remainder of the night.
Daphne was surprised to find out that not only were the Weasley's out of touch, they had apparently stopped using proper grimoires and lordship rituals over three generations ago. So those aspects Daphne had to explain to the entire group. Predictably, Granger was both fascinated and outraged by the idea of exclusive books filled with family knowledge and magic. Potter actually proved intuitive when he picked up on the same loophole possibility Daphne had about claiming his lordship in full.
The old house elf of the Blacks proved useful here, as he knew where the various books and items needed were located. Daphne was astounded when the old elf showed up with the Black grimoire and the book was more than twice the elf's size. She had never seen another family's book of course, but it was more than double her own family's size, and positively stinking with dark magic.
It took almost an entire hour, but they managed to get Harry recognized as the magically legitimated Lord Black. This allowed him to actually read past what had proven to be very complex enchantments on the book, only to discover that the page about family contract magic detailed extensively how to weave unbreakability into contracts to prevent any risk of tampering with contracts by tampering with the head of the house.
"Damnit! What a bloody waste of time!" Harry was getting increasingly aggravated. He hadn't wanted to don the Black family crest and signet ring for the ceremony, viewing it as a betrayal of his godfather's ideals, as well as of his own. Frankly, right now, Daphne couldn't blame him. She had really thought the key would be making Harry recognized as Lord Black in full, but she should have guessed the damnable family would be prepared for such a way out.
Granger had spent most of the time they had been researching Black family magic double checking the copy of magical marriage laws Harry had provided. That of course, proved a dead end as well. Two hours after Daphne had arrived, things were looking increasingly desperate. If there was truly no way out of this marriage without high risk of death from losing their magic, Daphne needed to find some other way to justify this visit to her father. Something he would recognize as an advantage.
Daphne started sneaking looks at the Black grimoire. It called itself "The Book of Black". Daphne could feel the darkness and evil pouring off of its pages. If she could convince Harry to let her read it, some ancient secret of the notoriously secretive family might just appease her father.
Alternatively, Daphne was increasingly considering changing her mind on taking potter up on his offer of sanctuary. The house was impressively spacious for a city home, and it wasn't utterly unheard of for a betrothed couple to cohabitate in the run up to their wedding. If Daphne could get an agreeable chaperone to also move in, the scandal would be minimal. Morganna, even without a chaperone….what if she just accepted the controversy. Daphne was now utterly convinced there would be no getting out of the contract. She and Harry would be wed until one of them died. They would need to produce children, or risk death. She would no longer be Daphne Greengrass, but Daphne Black, wife of Harry Potter.
How many scandals had Harry weathered over the last few years? He had been hated and vilified by the Daily Prophet, only defended by nonsense rags like The Quibbler. Yet, he had emerged one of the single most powerful, wealthy, and respected members of the British wizarding community. With even a fraction more ambition and drive, Shacklebolt would not be Minister right now, Harry would. Daphne had no doubt in her mind that Harry was very much following in Dumbledore's footsteps of refusing to take control when it was offered on a silver platter after his great victory.
All this, and Harry had never even wavered. By comparison, the scandal of moving in with her betrothed would be minor. Those who would care are unlikely to be in Harry's good graces anyways. Her Father would almost certainly excise her from the family. She'd lose all her possessions and the Greengrass wealth. She may even be forbidden from summoning Mimmy. Due to the contract, Father wouldn't be able to take away her name, or he'd risk the same lethal loss of magic for contract breach She and Harry were facing. She'd very likely be otherwise entirely removed from her family, and many of her friends. Yet, in a world where she was guaranteed to be married in mere weeks to Harry, the upsides of not returning to her father's house just may outweigh the downsides.
The biggest issue now, would be not getting killed in her sleep by the Weasley brat. Daphne only half believed Weasley wasn't above such a reaction to the idea of Daphne and Harry cohabitating. Harry might even revoke the offer, which would be a true nightmare scenario. Especially with Harry's noted refusal to bend to the whims of others, he may well choose to turn to his love for Weasley, over his obligations to Daphne.
Daphne wouldn't even be able to blame Harry, she had to admit. Daphne had never had a boyfriend. She was always to focused on the future, she knew. Daphne didn't think she was hideous, but she was no standout either. Ginny Weasley was infamously beautiful, and lived up to her reputation. Harry and she had been a great love affair of Hogwarts. Daphne was merely plain, and Harry clearly far preferred the fiery redhead's personality to her own reserved demeanor on top of Daphne's inferior looks. Harry had chosen Ginny, Daphne was being forced upon him by the whims of his mortal enemies. Daphne would likely choose Weasley over herself as well if offered the chance.
The chance wasn't there though. Daphne Resolved that she would ask to remain in the Black house, in her own room. She would Just have to convince Harry that dying for Weasley wouldn't be his answer. She'd have to convince Weasley not to kill her in a rage. At the end of the day, Daphne supposed she could simply encourage the two of them to carry on an affair. After all, She'd already noted Harry's extreme skill at weathering scandal, and outside of engaging in enough relations to sire the required children under the contract, Daphne could live with being otherwise functionally separate from her Husband. It certainly wasn't without historical precedent. Daphne could live her life, safe from her father, in the luxury that the Lady of the House of Black was entitled. She'd even likely be able to engage in business and politics on Harry's behalf, since he showed such distaste for such.
After all, the contract was not one that forced monogamy. It was specifically altered by her father and the death eaters to originally allow her to be but one of multiple wives even, sharing a husband with her own sister, disgusting as that thought was. Perhaps, while she raised the children, kept the house, and secured the Black family's economic and political future, she could even eventually meet a paramour of her own. That, or the first child might trigger the blood curse and kill her, negating all the worry anyways. That too could be a tool to keep Weasley's hexes from flying. She could come clean with the fifty-fifty chance that she would die very young, clearing the way for Harry and Weasley to view her marriage as no more than a temporary inconvenience. The girl had already taken him back after being left for the war, why not take him back as a widower?
Her decision was made easier when Granger announced the same conclusions Daphne had reached.
"I'm so sorry Harry," Granger pleaded, "I really can't see any way out of this contract that doesn't risk killing you both. I don't understand all of magical contract law, but it does seem far too similar to when you were forced into competing in the Triwizard Tournament. Even though you didn't actually sign your name to it, the contract is still magically binding. We could perhaps go after whoever signed the contract for committing fraud, but since that was some dead black ancestor, you'd just be suing yourself."
"Fat ruddy lot of good that'd do 'Mione." was the helpful addition of the male Weasley voice through the mirror.
"Maybe if we had more time we could try to break the magic of the contract, or find some way to protect you from the magical loss and damage for breaching the contract, but as it is, there is simply no way I can see to prevent the two of you being forced to wed in a week and a half. It's simply barbaric!" The tears in Granger's voice would be touching if Daphne believed even a milliliter of them were being shed for the injustice being done to Daphne in all this.
Harry addressed her directly then, "Daphne, can you think of anything else we haven't tried? There must be something, anything!"
She simply shook her head. "I truly thought making you the lord would allow you to break, or at least renegotiate the contract. Whichever Black ancestor that wrote this contract was clearly very good at it. The point, after all, of such things was always to stop precisely what we are trying to do. None of you are in Slytherin, so you just don't, can't understand. We are all, always seeking advantage over the other. Imagine how anyone would ever go into business, ever get married, if the contract might be nullified through some loophole, and your possessions, perhaps even your life is suddenly forfeit? What guarantee would Draco have my sister won't poison his food? Or, had there been no contracts, without one with the Parkinsons, how would she be sure he'd never beat her? Or he that she'd never pass off another's child as the heir for the Malfoys? The Blacks got to where they were before the wars by being the best at wringing out advantage under such paranoid circumstances. I'm not that surprised honestly that they also got really good at making their contracts truly ironclad. I'm sorry, you have no idea how truly sorry I am."
This did not soothe the only other woman actually present in the room, naturally.
"Bollocks covered in bullshit!" Daphne was downright shocked at the creative vulgarity of the girl. "You aren't sorry, this is all upside for you, isn't it? You get out of your mad father's clutches, but get to keep all the wealth and privilege, and status you care about. You don't give a whit for Harry, or for anyone but your stuck up, snobbish self! I'm not even convinced you're telling the truth about your dad! What proof do we have? What reason to trust a snide, self important word from your thin lips? You never did fuck-all for anyone else in your entire life! And now you are getting everything while Harry gets nothing!"
Daphne had predicted that the younger girl would be the hardest to convince. She knew she was the one with the most personal stake, as well as the only one to witness Daphne being forced to look the other way at all the horrors the Carrows inflicted last year. Horrors Ginny herself had at times been victim to.
She hadn't been prepared for just how vehemently she had just torn Daphne apart. She was right, in her obnoxious, profane way. Daphne wasn't really losing out in this. Sure, she would have to sleep with Harry, likely entirely unloved. Sure, pregnancy carried risks even under normal circumstances, but were as likely as a coinflip to be her death. But hadn't she herself just been celebrating the idea of a certain rebellious freedom in submitting to the damned contract? She had no way to prove she had disagreed with her father over not taking a side against the death eaters. She had no way to prove the risk of the blood curse. She likely wouldn't even be able to explain how not excited she was to engage Harry in marital relations.
Harry was sputtering, being the hero he always seemed to be, standing up to his girlfriend. Daphne should admit that truth to herself now. Ginny Weasley was not Harry's ex-girlfriend, but his current girlfriend, regardless of the contract. The fantasy she had attempted to craft was already shattering, even as Harry was being noble and getting into a shouting match with his own girlfriend over being kinder to her. He never spoke so familiarly with Daphne, even in his rage, his passion for Ginny was clear, as was his dispassion for Daphne. When they were wed, Ginny wouldn't be his mistress, she'd still be the love of his life. Daphne would never compare. It wouldn't be Ginny kept in the shadows, but Daphne herself. She wouldn't even be able to blame them for shutting her aside when it happened.
Daphne didn't know when the tears started falling, but once they did, it was as if years of denied self hatred and fear were pouring out all at once. From the first watery tear that slid down her cheek, Daphne was suddenly struggling for breath, unable to even see through all the tears streaming from her. Her chest heaved, and it felt like it was being crushed under the weight of the realization of who Daphne was, and what her future would look like. Every staggered breath was like daggers deep inside her lungs. She couldn't stand, she could barely even hold her head off the table, it felt so heavy.
There were voices from the mirror. Daphne couldn't hear them. It was just all too much. She wasn't wanted by her father, she wasn't wanted by her fiance, she wasn't wanted anywhere. She had deluded herself into thinking her knowledge could hide the pure undesirability of herself. She could no longer hold onto that delusion. No matter what happened over the next weeks, the next months, the next years, Daphne knew she would spend it alone, and unloved.
Even Tracey, would never fully understand. Her best friend was still a Slytherin. Daphne had built their entire relationship on the usefulness of Daphne and the Greengrass name. Despite wealth and power on paper, once it became clear to the entire wizarding world how worthless she was to Harry, she wouldn't be able to get within shouting distance of anyone from polite society. She'd die alone, either in pain from the blood curse, or years later, after a lifetime of loneliness.
Astoria had been correct the entire time. Even as she was no doubt having Mimmy sneak both of them essence of dittany right now, Astoria had been right to live her own life. At least she had lived some life. Daphne wouldn't live on. She'd have no legacy to hold onto when she died. She'd have nothing, and she'd deserve nothing.
She wasn't sure how many of these thoughts, suppressed for so long, had escaped her lips as well as their imprisonment inside the recesses of her mind. She was sure they weren't coherent, but she felt the air escaping her lungs, and her lips forming the words. She still was only vaguely aware of the Golden trio and Harry's beloved girlfriend arguing above her, but no words could penetrate her own deluge of all the thoughts she had refused to think her entire life. Even the very tears she was shedding only filled her with bitterness and self hatred for her weakness.
Finally, mercifully, something was slipped into her hands, a potion, or drink, or poison, Daphne didn't care. She choked it down, ot even tasting it, and faded into blissful darkness, as the voices, both inside and outside her head, fell quiet, at last.
Daphne wasn't sure how long she slept, but when she awoke, her mind felt clearer, and some of the weight seemed to have dissipated from her chest. It was dark, but she could see a silhouette in a chair in the corner. Daphne didn't recognize the room or the bed, so she must still be in Harry's London house. The bed was large, warm, and comfortable. Her head was still groggy, from what he now surmised must have been a small vial of sleeping draught.
The silhouette in the corner spoke, and the lights in a candelabra above her head lit up, a comforting dim flicker chasing away the darkness, without blinding her.
"Hermione got it down to the minute. I'm sorry Daphne, I really am." Daphne could now identify the figure in the corner as Harry. There was no sign of anyone else, nor his stupid mirror.
"Ginny went home. She slugged me, and then kissed me, and then slugged me again, but she's home. Ron and Hermione are off doing what they need to do in Australia. I think the two of us are long past due a talk. Just the two of us."
That made sense to Daphne, and she certainly agreed. Questions still pounded her skull, however. "What do you mean Granger predicted to the minute? What did she predict?"
"Oh, when we realized how bad off you were, she immediately sent through a vial of sleeping draught, and calculated exactly how long you'd sleep. Bloody brilliant she is. Shame she thinks she can do more in the ministry than as a healer. I bet she'd set records for lives saved."
"How long?" Daphne asked the next obvious question. Putting off the difficult ones just a little longer, while building up her dread about her father.
"Two hours. It's approaching midnight. To be perfectly honest, I should be in bed, for work tomorrow, but I think us having this chat is worth a bit of lost sleep. I've got a start on a letter to send to your father, explaining the situation, but I don't want to finish it without your say."
Daphne slowly nodded. It was late, too late, her father would have almost certainly gone after her mother and passed out after Mimmy. It was possible he hadn't even noticed her absence yet. But as soon as he did, anything but a perfect letter was certain to set him off on the rest of the household again. Whatever awaited Daphne, She owed it to her family to make sure that didn't happen.
"All right, then I guess we talk. I should start, I suppose, with my own apology. I should not have reacted so. It is simply unbecoming of a woman my age to let firm words from another woman drive me to such hysterics. Weasley, Ginny, made fair points, however vulgar she was in making them. You deserve answers, and so does she. I'll try my best to give them now."
"Look, I didn't catch everything you were saying, but I get that there is a lot going on with your father that I don't know. And something about a curse, and dying young? If anyone understands that, it's me. Why don't you start, slowly from the start, and we'll go from there. Afterwards, you can stay here in one of the spare rooms, I think it was actually Sirius' parent's, or go home. Your choice, I'll back you whatever you choose. I promise."
Harry looked her in the eyes, and she saw the honesty and determination there. She resolved to meet him, hoping he could see the same through his deep, emerald pools he called eyes.
So, Daphne told Harry Potter the story of her life. Of the ancestor that had wronged some powerful foe, and been forever cursed for it. How the malediction had descended down the Greengrass line, always striking one woman every generation. How the family had chosen to define itself in opposition to the attempted annihilation. How her father had blamed himself for failing to produce a male heir after the death of his brother. How her sister and her had known from very young two facts. One, they would not both live to see their 20's, and two, it was the most sacred duty of whichever one survived to save the entire Greengrass line from fading into nothingness.
Of her father's rage at any failing to uphold and grow the Greengrass family, and of his rage when defied. Of the violence he exacted on those under his power when that rage was unleashed. She explained Astoria's and her very different reactions and philosophies to this upbringing.
She told Harry of her looking in from outside over the last seven years, up until her first row with her father last Christmas. Of her conversation with Tracey after Harry had defied the odds yet again, time after time. Including the one at the memorial. If Daphne was going to show Harry she was being honest, she had to show all of herself, bare her every imperfection to him for judgement.
"Ginny wasn't wrong. Not entirely. I think that's why it hit me so hard, she showed me a mirror to my own ugliness. In many ways, if the marriage doesn't kill me, it may answer all I have been striving for my entire life. Freedom from my father, without sacrificing the legacy or the duty I have to my family. But seeing you and her together reminded me how shallow, how hollow that view of marriage was. How utterly without any understanding of the roll of love, in anything. I know many Pureblood marriages are without love, and thought I was prepared for that. But you love Ginny, and not me. I hadn't fully reckoned with what that truly means before seeing it right in front of me. I was already fragile from my father going off and beating Astoria earlier tonight, so I guess it all just finally snapped."
Harry took a deep breath, before answering, "We may have more in common than either of us realize. I know plenty about toughing out a rough upbringing."
Harry told her all about his past. Things and details he admitted no one, even Weasleys and Granger, knew. Daphne was horrified. She felt so useless. How dare she complain about her father when Harry had suffered so much more than any human should be able to survive, let alone emerge a well rounded adult. When Harry finished telling his story, Daphne was on the verge of yet another breakdown. Harry had gone through so much, sacrificed everything, and here she was, denying him the happiness he thought may finally be his.
Harry clearly noticed, Merlin, he just had to be attentive to her emotions as well? Where was the imbecile that failed so publicly at relationships during school? Daphne was feeling more and more like maybe, her just deliberately seeking out a trigger for the blood curse may be the best solution to the issue.
"Hey, none of that. I never asked for everything I went through, but I wouldn't change anything I did. Except, maybe, for getting tricked by Riddle into leading Sirius to his death. I'm fine, after first year, Dudley never really got any good hits on me, so honestly, I think you definitely have the worst hand. I won't pretend I'm not furious about being helpless to some stupid sheet of parchment. I'm not going to tell you I don't want to just do my job, catch dark wizards, and yes, love Gin. This situation is terrible. But clearly, both of us have experience in living through terrible circumstances."
When Daphne didn't have a response to that, Harry continued.
"Tonight probably didn't go as well as any of us had hoped. It is looking like the two of us may not escape this damn marriage. If that has to be the case, though, You're mad if you think I'm not going to do what I can to guarantee the next weeks and days are the best they can be for you. I'm not sending you back to your prat father. We'll figure out about getting your belongings, and I've too much gold anyway, so you can buy what we can't retrieve. As long as you wish it, this room, this house, is yours. We'll figure everything else out another night. Tonight, I really do need to get some sleep, and you probably should as well."
It was then, that Daphne realized one major problem with Harry's more than generous offer. She had slept in this stranger's bed under the effects of a potion, but now she was far too aware of her clothes, as well as her makeup, ruined by her tears. She felt absolutely terrible, She'd get absolutely no sleep like this. It had been one thing to theorize about, but it was entirely a different matter to suddenly contemplate living alone in a house with another man. She didn't have her toiletries, her nighties, not even her own towel if she tried to bathe. Not that she was feeling particularly brave enough to attempt such a thing.
" Harry, I appreciate it, really I do. But we can't just pretend this is something either of us are prepared for. I am a mess, I've nothing to wear to bed, I've nothing to clean up with, I don't even know where anything in this house is, besides the kitchen and hallway. I wouldn't even be able to find those from this room tomorrow."
"Oh, that's all simple, Kreacher!" Harry called. There was a *CRACK*, and the house elf was before them. "Kreacher, it looks like whether we like it or not, Daphne and I are going to be getting married soon, and she's going to need to stay here for at least the immediate future. While I'm gone, Please help her with basic stuff she needs. Buy her some toiletries, clothes, whatever she needs, using my accounts. You can still draw from those, right?"
The elf nodded, staring at Daphne with the look of scandal Daphne imagined would be plastered on most purebloods when word of this got out.
"Don't give me that look Kreacher. I don't care about what people think, nothing weird is going to happen. She needs a place to stay, I have more rooms than I am using. I'll even clean my room so it isn't extra work for you to clean hers if necessary."
"Harry Potter insults Kreacher. Kreacher will clean all rooms, as befits a proper elf. Harry Potter may be forgetting his promise so soon? Kreacher will be a good house elf, and Harry Potter will bring Honor to the house of black. Greengrasses are old, the match is proper. Proper enough to be worth….impropriety, Kreacher thinks. Kreacher will gladly help Kreacher's future Mistress."
"Well I guess that's settled then. I hope that's alright with you Daphne. I know things are awful, but please don't be too demanding of Kreacher. He's been through a lot, and I don't want him to suffer. As for tonight, Hermione once again proved she's smarter than Ron and I combined. After Ginny had left, she sent over some toiletries from their hotel, as well as a nighty. She said she's not sure if you are her size, but that hopefully if it's terrible, You can charm it into a better fit, just for tonight. There's actually a private loo and bathe through that door," He pointed to a closed door in the corner of the room, "Larger than even Dudley's room when I was growing up. Kreacher already made sure the heater and such is working fine, and set out Black family towels, as well as the toiletries Hermione sent over. I'm Absolutely wrecked though, so unless you have an emergency, I'll head up to bed."
He turned to leave, before spinning on his heel with what was obviously an afterthought, as well as a blush she could even see by the dim candle light.
"Oh, and don't worry, both the door to this room, as well as the bathroom can be locked from the inside, and you are on an entire floor to yourself, don't worry about privacy. So um, G'night, I guess."
"Good night." Daphne barely got the words out in a mumble before Harry had retreated and shut the door behind him.
Granger really was too damn smart by half. Daphne had to admit though, it was as though a dragon had just taken wing from her chest, as she realized she truly wouldn't need to return to her father, possibly ever. She got out of the bed, which Daphne had to admit may just be even more comfortable than her own. The adjoining bathroom was indeed as luxurious as Harry had hinted. Perhaps not quite as fine as her one back at Greengrass manor, but certainly more than sufficient. Still, even as she locked both the room door, as well as the bathroom door, Daphne had to pause as she could not help but shake the knowledge that she would be stripping under the same roof as her fiancé. It was less than two weeks before Harry would see her, touch her, as no other had before. Her heart was beating a million beats a minute, it felt like. Daphne tried to stall by running the bath, as well as looking over the toiletries Granger had sent.
They were more than sufficient for a solid bubble bath. Daphne had to wonder if Granger had some preternatural seer abilities. It would explain how she always had the answer to every teacher's question. A bubble bath absolutely would alleviate at least some of the embarrassment Daphne felt at being nude, being naked, in Harry's house. Daphne wasn't impressed with the perfumes and oils available, but that was to be expected from just an emergency supply from some muggle hotel, Daphne supposed.
The Towels were perfect. An entire set of gorgeous white Egyptian cotton, set with the Black crest in a bold ebony. Daphne almost wanted to speed through the bath, just to luxuriate in the feel of the towels.
Stalling, just a tad longer, Daphne also investigated the clothing hamper, seeing on top of it was indeed a plain top and bottom set that just screamed Granger. Daphne was grateful for the loan, of course, but she would be taking Harry up on his offer to Pauper him in obtaining a proper wardrobe first thing in the morning. As she held up the top, it was clear Daphne's bust was noticeably larger than Granger's. If she wore this top, she possibly burst right out of it. Daphne wasn't going to be having any of that. So, she indeed knowing the necessary transfiguration charms, did some quick, temporary alterations. The bottoms, as with most pajamas, were far more workable, even if more ankle was exposed than perhaps would be ideal.
Finally, the Bath was full, and the bubbles filled with suds. Daphne took a deep breath, and hastily stripped down to naught and practically dived into the tub. She washed, taking every effort to not let her breasts rise above the bubbles. She knew she was being silly. By all appearances, Potter was already unconscious, and would not be barging in on her, but the thought still filled her mind.
As Daphne transferred from merely bathing, to soaking, she was enjoying the warmth of the water, and feeling relief from the dirt of the day being gone. Yet, still, she could not stop picturing Harry bursting past the locks, the multiple doors, and seeing her, nothing but bubbles between them. Her mind seemed to call up images against her will. Not only Harry, but Ginny and Tracey as well somehow. Memories of seeing Tracey in her room, sweating and moaning. Daphne felt her own need such as she never had before.
She pictured Harry claiming he would claim her as his wife early, since she was in his house. Ginny Stripping down, showing what Daphne could only imagine must be truly stunning looks to have enraptured so many. Demanding not to be left out of Harry's life. Tracey, in the corner, already exactly as Daphne had seen her by mistake. The tub was quite large. Daphne imagined Harry and Ginny would fit, but not without a lot of flesh touching flesh.
As she considered this, her own flesh felt like it was electrified under her hands. She massaged her breasts, and wondered, what would it feel like when Harry did it. She flicked a finger over a rapidly hardening nipple, and a moan escaped her lips. It was too much. Thoughts and feelings Daphne had never allowed herself to consider or feel were flooding her. It was as though the tub had bewitched her, every bit as much as that vision of Tracey had. Daphne was suddenly lost to her own repressed lust.
Her other hand began caressing her thighs. She hadn't managed to shave, yet the bristles, usually a source of disgust for her, suddenly enhanced the feeling of sensitivity. Images flashed through her mind, fast and disconnected. Kissing Harry, Kissing Ginny, Tracey's fingers plunged inside her moist nethers. Daphne bit her lip, trying desperately to hold back her moans, even as she felt positively defined by the moans of her imagination. What would it feel like to have Harry touch her, what would it feel like to touch him. Daphne knew so little of the male anatomy, in her minds, eye, he even matched Tracey's puffy vulva. She knew he would have a penis, that it would be hard, and that it would end up inside her. That was the extent of her sexual education, from overheard snickers and whispers by looser women in the Slytherin dorms.
In the tub though, she wouldn't need to know what Harry looked like, only feel him. Just as she felt her own hand move to her other breast, squeezing it, thumb rapidly flicking and teasing her aching nipple. Her left hand was completing it's exploration of her legs, and had found her nethers. Harry, Ginny, Tracey, in her mind's eye it was all of them and none of them, going where Daphne herself was journeying for the very first time.
She explored what she hadn't before, still feeling almost as if under the Imperius curse. She felt her lips, the folds, and found the hardening bud of her clit. Touching it almost through Daphne from the tub. No longer able to worry about whether her breasts surfaced from the bubbles, she arched her back almost violently. Daphne had no idea she could feel such fire, such electricity. Small wonder Tracey had been so upset that Daphne had interrupted her. How could anyone ever cease once such feelings began? She circled her clit with first one, then two fingers, and each moment heightened the building explosion Daphne felt brewing. Would Harry touch her like this? Would Ginny truly enter their marital duties? Perhaps Harry would only even willingly do so with Ginny present. Daphne did not know, and just then, did not care. She was climbing, seeking a peak she barely knew existed.
She finally dared to plunge one finger inside herself, and the feeling was indescribable. She could not get enough. She wanted more hands, more skin, more touch. She kept going, and swore she was seeing stars. Her breath was getting as ragged as Tracey's had been, and could no longer restrain the wanton groans and moans. She could almost hear her imagined partners joining her in seeking this peek She could instinctually tell was coming, yet somehow still so out of reach. And then, suddenly, she pinched her own nipple and twisted hard, while her hand found a spot inside her that was a new feeling yet again. Her mind broke as she screamed, all the stress of her lifetime seemingly releasing with the pleasure she felt. It just kept going, wave after wave of lightning coursing through Daphne's body.
As she came back down from the high of her first orgasm, Daphne felt her mind become her own again, the various images and sounds fading away. She felt a sense of contended exhaustion roll over her. She breathed in. She breathed out. Daphne wouldn't even remember getting out and draining the tub the next morning, nor drying off with the towels she had so admired.
Daphne donned the borrowed and altered jammies, and tried not to let her still lust fogged mind think too hard of what this fabric had in it's memory. Of what it had touched, and was now touching. When she blew out the candle light of her room, and crawled into the bed, her bed, Daphne felt something she hadn't in a long time. She felt satisfied. She felt safe. She felt...at home.
It would be one of the best night's sleep of her entire life.