Posted 1/8/2014, Edited 1/11/2014

.

This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Fifteen - Dinner at the Greengrasses

.

"Come on, Daphne, don't be such a bore!" Astoria whined. "Come on, come on, come on, come on, TELL me."

"I have already told you," Daphne pointed out. She's your sister, she reminded herself, think of the truce. "There is nothing to tell."

"You're lying! Mum, Daphne's lying!"

"Listen, you little itch in my side," the older girl hissed. "I don't care what you have heard. I don't care what you've concocted in your feeble mind..."

But Astoria was overcome with giggles. "You... you said..."

"There isn't anything to tell! I don't visit the boy's side anymore than you do or should at least if what I've heard is true."

That shut her up. "Lies! Th... that's Melinda, she's behind it! I've got nothing to do with that!"

"So whatever is told about you is a lie, but rumours about me are the truth?"

"Well, Pansy..." Astoria began, only to be cut off.

"... is Pansy, not me," Daphne told her.

"Well, you're friends, aren't you?"

"And to my knowledge, she only ever tried to visit Draco, so there's that," Daphne pointed out.

"Well, she should keep away from your man, then," Astoria replied. "He's yours."

"Only if he doesn't manage to scrounge up the money for a settlement," Daphne countered.

"How can you not like him? He's good-looking, from a well-known family..."

"Currently, they are known for being enemies of Wizarding Britain," Daphne told her sister.

Astoria waved it aside. "You don't believe that nonsense, don't you?"

Daphne rubbed her eyes and went to pick out a robe for herself. She's your sister, she repeated in her mind. "Well, from what I've heard, Draco's father was caught with Death Eaters on Ministry premises, wearing Death Eater robes and with the Dark Mark on his arm," she said.

"That doesn't make them enemies of Wizarding Britain," Astoria pointed out. "They could still be working for the betterment of society?"

Daphne blinked. She knew her sister well enough. Astoria was many things, occasionally even gullible. Could she have been blinded by the propaganda of the Dark Lord? "They are classified as enemies, though. And I for one do care about the letter of the law; I don't fancy a trip to Azkaban just because I fell for some easy words."

"So you'd join if the Dark Lord were in control?" Astoria asked.

"If he were in control, I don't think I'd have much choice," Daphne replied and held up two robes. "Violet or grey?"

"Violet," Astoria told her with another wave.

"Grey it is, then. Now run along and tell Mum I'll be downstairs in a moment." She quickly changed robes, not caring whether her sister had done as she was ordered to.

Would she join the Dark Lord? Or rather, would she have joined, had she not made that arrangement with Potter? It was out of question now, of course. With the upcoming wedding to Potter, the nemesis of the Dark Lord, Daphne had all but blocked any chance to join the Death Eaters. But then, had she joined them she would have had to work alongside Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange.

It didn't matter, she decided. She had wanted to keep away from the war as well as the Malfoys. If she had to marry Potter to keep the Death Eaters away, then she would do it. That was the one advantage of the light side, their morals kept them from forcing anyone.

Happy with her look, Daphne left for the dining room. Just for the sake of it, she spelled Astoria's bedroom locked and changed the colours of the family portrait from a few years ago.

Just then, a scream echoed through the halls, and Daphne sprinted towards it. She knew the voice, and she loved her mother enough to ignore her own survival instincts. Daphne found her family in the dining room. Astoria was grinning wickedly and mouthed, unseen by either parent, 'trouble' to her sister. Their father stood rooted to the spot, blinking disbelievingly while his wife waved a piece of parchment around.

"What is the meaning of this?" she yelled once she caught sight of Daphne.

"Err, I... I don't know? I just came here, what is it?" Daphne tried. She had a feeling she knew just what it was. Of course Potter had to ruin her dinner. It fit in a way only an idiot would put it together, and since it was Potter who had started it, of course he would have chosen that day and probably felt incredibly smart about it.

"The contract! It was activated! By that Potter boy!" her mother screeched.

"I... I didn't know about that," Daphne stuttered. She hadn't known about its activation, so in a way, she hadn't lied. Potter had indeed made his move.

"Did you know about that boy? Where did he even come from?" Daphne's father asked with worry etched on his face.

A tricky question, Daphne realized. "Well, the letter from Gringotts, the one from July, it said something about another candidate, a Second Rank, but... but Draco is still... the contract is active? But... does that mean I have to...? I... can't! ... Can I? Do I have to...? Wait, Potter? As in, Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived Potter? As in...?" She decided to add a little stagger at this revelation. Reasonably speaking, it should normally be sufficiently shocking to have someone lose their calm.

"So you did know about that?" Daphne's mother accused.

"No, I... a Second Rank, Mum! It's... Draco should be it unless..." Daphne forced herself to look shocked. "Unless he's...?"

Uneasy looks were exchanged. It did cause a bit of a problem.

"Why?" Daphne's mother whimpered. "Why did it have to happen to us? Cyrus, what do we do now?" As if struck, she fell on a chair. "The other families! We'll be outcasts! Blood traitors! Just think of the shame!"

Her husband sighed, but shook his head. "There is little we can do. We cannot simply ignore the traditions and, more importantly, the obligations. It is a magical contract and one I wish we had dealt with in the past. But we can't do anything now. Backing out? That would shame us, not to mention the consequences of breaking a contract." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, we have to... it has to be done, I think. Daphne, I'm sorry, I know how much you wanted to avoid such a mess..."

"Don't say it like that!" his wife screamed. "It should have been Narcissa's son, a fine boy. Oh, Narcissa! What will she say?"

"We will have to get in contact with the boy," Daphne's father decided. He had always been the more pragmatic of the two, despite his fascination with potions accidents. "And as soon as possible. Dreadful business, really. I shudder to think of having to deal with him, from what I have heard about this..."

"He's a menace, Dad," Astoria added cheerfully. "Truly horrible!"

Well, thanks, hell spawn, Daphne thought. But it didn't matter. "So... so what now?"

Her father began nodding. "Well, I don't think anyone of us really considers breaking the contract. It means we will have to follow traditions. We have no choice. Natasha, even the other families will have to accept that. It's not a choice. We have to make the best of it."

Daphne forced herself to look distraught. Her plan had worked well so far, but unfortunately, she couldn't let anyone in her family know that. "I'm sorry, Mum, Dad, to have caused so much trouble."

"Ah, it's not your fault. You didn't cause this," her father sighed.

Great, guilt. Just what she needed. Luckily, in that moment, the elf brought the food and the attention of Daphne's family was, for a moment, focused elsewhere. It smelled marvellous.

Under normal circumstances, Daphne would have greatly enjoyed it. The holiday dinner usually had a special meaning for her simply because it had been the one day in the year where both her parents had been content with just being together. It had also usually been the day the sisters stayed somewhat civil, at least in front of the family, and her grandparents had visited even the year before their death when they were generally too weak to do anything anymore. But this year, Potter had successfully turned everything upside down.

If she didn't know it any better she would have thought it had been an attempt at ruining the dinner. But he couldn't have known what it meant to her. And she hadn't told him when he should have started his part of the plan, so in a way, she was partly responsible. If all went well, the next year their festive dinner would be what it had been in the past.

Of course, since it would be the first winter holiday with her then husband, it might be unavoidable to celebrate with him so she would either have to join him in whatever they would plan as an alternative or bring him to the family dinner. Neither sounded all that appealing. But then, hadn't Astoria already threatened to bring a boyfriend with her? And hadn't their mother suggested inviting the Malfoys to dinner? Maybe their tradition was already doomed. A part of Daphne grieved at that realization, the childish part wishing for things to stay the same. But another part reminded her of more important matters. If she had to sacrifice her traditional dinner in order to stay alive, then so be it. And hadn't she skipped two years ago anyway? Given the Yule Ball, she had stayed at school with a heavy heart. It had paid off, in a way, and she had had a very fun evening, one she was very happy no one in her family knew much about.

"Well," Daphne's father said, unsure of what to do, "shall we eat? It would be a shame to let all this delicious food go to waste."

"That's it?" Astoria asked with a frown. "Just sit down and act like nothing happened?"

Daphne was visited with the sudden urge to hex her sister. Of course she would try to cause more trouble. Couldn't she be nice for once? Happy to be together with her family? Not try to be a pest? What had Daphne done to her to justify that treatment? Other than hexing Astoria's shoes to the floor, her door closed, her skin water-repellent and mixing these trick sweets in her supply. Oh, and spelling the mirror to be sarcastic once in a while. But then, Astoria had found it funny.

"What do you suppose we do?" Daphne's father told her. "We will have to approach the Potter boy, try to get a personalized contract in place as soon as possible. But I think we will have time for dinner first."

His wife fought back a shiver. "Let us not talk about that, then. Dinner!" She attempted a smile, but it looked very much like a grimace. "Today, we will have pheasant, but first, a light soup. The recipe has been passed down through the generations; I learned it from Grandmother Eve when I was just a little girl myself. I remember the day she taught me how to do it," she continued.

Another traditional part of the celebrations Natasha Greengrass had continued after the death of her mother-in-law six years ago had been the recounting of a story linked to the food. When Daphne had asked about it one time as a little girl, her Grandmother May had explained it as a bonding of generations.

"Naturally, when I tried my hand at it, I cut myself, and badly, just before we were done," Daphne's mother told her family with a smile. "So Grandmother Eve healed me and then had me do it all over again. It took forever; I had blisters on my hands, I was famished. It was one of the best meals I ever had. The next year..."

Carrie, the elf stepped into the room. "Excuse me, Mistress. Lady Malfoy and her son be at the door, wanting to speak with you."

Daphne's mother blanched slightly, but far less than Daphne or her father. Astoria on the other hand grinned widely. Oh, yes, that would be to her taste, wouldn't it? Daphne in even greater trouble, their parents struggling to gain control of the situation, and the hell spawn enjoying the show.

"Well... I... well, see them in, then," Daphne's mother ordered. She quickly straightened out her robes, probably wishing not for the first time to have a separate living room. It might have been one of the reasons she had been delighted to see the contract looming over Daphne –to marry her into a proper, wealthy family would have been a considerable step up.

The regal looking Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the room, followed by her pale-faced son. Their eyes wandered for a moment, but as soon as Daphne's mother stepped forward, both turned fully to face her.

"Narcissa, how nice of you to visit. I hadn't expected you this evening."

"What is the meaning of this?" the other woman said. Although her voice was calm and measured, Daphne thought she could sense the anger emanating her.

Then again, knowing the situation at hand, Daphne had no doubt about why the Malfoys had shown up unannounced the evening the notifications about the activation of the contract had to have gone out; it might have been her imagination and Mrs. Malfoy simply curious, but she didn't think so. The woman whipped out an official looking letter, one Daphne had no problem identifying without even reading it; after all, they had received one very similar to it not even an hour ago and had seen it coming.

"Ah, so you received a notification as well," Daphne's mother tried. "We had no idea and were equally shocked, I assure you. We learned about it shortly before you arrived, by means of notification from the bank. A very problematic development, and very undesirable as well."

"You call it problematic?" Narcissa Malfoy asked with a raised eyebrow. "If you say so. I wanted to confirm the authenticity of the letter. I had assumed it to be a practical joke when it first arrived, but then, apart from a few people, hardly anyone even knows about it."

"Sadly, no, but I certainly wish it was just a joke," Daphne's mother replied. "It is to our dismay very much real, as far as we can tell."

"And what, may I ask, are your plans? What do you plan to do to... deal with this..." But words seemed to have failed Narcissa Malfoy. Instead, an angry glint stole into her eyes.

Daphne's father stepped to his wife's side. "We will have to respect the traditions..."

"You can't honestly plan to... go through with this... travesty?" Mrs. Malfoy hissed. Her features grew harsh, a nasty sneer on her face. "The boy is not one of us, just a half-blood, unworthy of... And foolish, uneducated. Filthy, Natasha, Cyrus. Surely you don't intend to let him taint your House? You can't... you don't really want to..." Disgust seeped into her posture. She shifted, and Daphne was reminded of a snake, ready to strike and sink poisonous teeth into its victim.

"Well," Daphne's father said. "I don't think we will have much of a choice in the matter. Pureblood or not, with the contract active, I feel both obligated and forced to follow the traditions. If we don't uphold the proper ways, how can we expect the rest of the wizarding world to do it?" He frowned slightly, and Daphne felt her respect for her father rise dramatically. She was fairly sure he knew just whom the Malfoys worked for, yet he had dared to make a good point and even use the pureblood traditions to underline his stance. Yes, if anything, that would work to convince Narcissa Malfoy and her master.

"But since you are already here," he continued, "perhaps you could offer us some insight into an issue I am having trouble understanding. You see, I wasn't aware of the Potter boy having any relation to House Black. He certainly was never mentioned before. How come he could activate the contract? I am curious, you see, since we will have to deal with him soon, and any insight might help us."

Again, a good point. True, Daphne had an idea, but although she had had some time to think about it, she didn't know for sure. It simply hadn't seemed all that important –Potter was there, little more mattered.

Narcissa Malfoy sneered contemptuously. "A plan of Dumbledore, no doubt. The late Head of House, Sirius Black, left almost everything to the Potter boy, apparently including the Head of House title."

Ah, so that was it. Sirius Black had passed the title on to his intended victim Potter. Interesting.

"A disgrace," Mrs. Malfoy spat, "but still, within his right, unfortunately. As such, Potter would have been a Black once he would have taken up the title, normally at seventeen. He must have found a way around that." She narrowed her eyes, and her face contorted into one of disgust. "All to direct as much gold to Dumbledore as possible, I'm sure. I have heard of his extravagant lifestyle of late, it would be just like him to use the Black wealth to refill his private vaults. I have met the boy. Our children are in his year at Hogwarts. He is as childish and immature as you would expect from one of his birth and will not show the proper respect, neither for you nor the traditions we stand for."

"Yes, he does seem that way, doesn't he?" Astoria piped up.

"Well, thank you for your assessment, both of you," Daphne's father said.

"Lucius had warned me about him," Mrs. Malfoy told him. "He was right." Then, she looked to Daphne. "I guess congratulations are in order."

It was very unnerving; it was as if the woman's eyes were boring into her, and Daphne quickly averted her eyes. "Thank you. But considering the circumstances, I think condolences are more appropriate," she tried to joke. It sounded as forced as it really was.

"Oh, don't be like that," Mrs. Malfoy spoke with a mocking quality to her voice. "Just think of all the delights ahead of you, of all the promises of a married life! Surely you know about those, don't you? The hours and days with your charming new husband and his stares. Just think, that half-blood coming over to claim his prize, wouldn't that be fun?"

"Now, now, Narcissa," Daphne's mother decided to intervene far too late. "Don't be too hasty there." She laughed unnaturally.

Daphne meanwhile found it hard not to blush. True, she knew of her plans and just how little she would have to deal with Potter. In fact, part of the reason why she had been happy with the arrangement had been the possibility to never have to deal with him, never have him be near her more than absolutely necessary.

From what she had heard and seen, Potter already had girls vying for his attention, and the more he was occupied with them, the less Daphne would have to deal with him. But at the same time, a lot of people would assume otherwise. Mrs. Malfoy had put her finger on an issue Daphne had intentionally ignored as much as possible. Even if they stayed well away from each other, they would be married. And married people were... well, yes. During her planning, it had seemed far less troubling, but now she found it hard to ignore the images it conjured in her mind. And worse, she had tried to see it as a business deal, and it had worked.

Ever since they had talked about the possibility of actually going through with it, Daphne had distracted herself as much as she could. Dashing pirates, charming cavaliers, handsome heroes, and every kind of appealing fantasy, all to keep herself from thinking about Potter. But now Mrs. Malfoy had said it, she couldn't remain ignorant. She would marry Potter, and she couldn't help but wonder what was hidden under his robes. Had Quidditch given him some muscles? He had shot up, true, but that wasn't all there had to be. A good physique for a Seeker, yes. Thin, fast on his feet and a broom. But not exactly something she liked to fantasize about. Scrawny, shifty shrimps were not something she looked for.

Whenever she had let her mind wander, she had ended up imagining someone confident in his own skin as her husband or lover. And she had imagined running her hands over said skin as well, feeling the muscles underneath, not necessarily because she preferred strong men, but because she found the idea of a body with character in itself appealing. That was why her fantasies usually had some adventurous deuteragonist, people with a story to tell. Also, they were mostly people with personality, slightly wild and dangerous.

Potter? He was a danger all right, but not because of what he was and more because of who his enemies were. Still, he was preferable to Draco. Better a tame lion than a vicious viper, or something like that. Maybe she should have that embroidered in her wedding dress? It would be funny, at least.

Daphne tried to look at their visitors. Mrs. Malfoy had adopted the indifferent look of a pureblood wife. Draco on the other hand had his eyes fixed on her. There was something she couldn't quite place. For a second, she thought he might attack, try to kill her for her daring. But at the same time, he seemed happy, perhaps because he hadn't looked forward to the marriage as well. Or was he worried? She had assumed he would be glad to have escaped the threat of the contract. In fact, that had been part of why she had arranged the deal with Potter. If Draco was happy, he would hopefully be more pleasant to be around. Pansy would be too, she had reasoned, since she would have her Draco back. But then, if he had already planned to get his hands on the Greengrass wealth, what little there actually was, then this day would only anger him. Still, she had hoped he would give a clear sign one way or the other.

She decided to apologize to him. Even if she hadn't done anything wrong as far as anyone in the room knew, she still felt it to be the right thing to do.

But before she found the words, her mother spoke up again. "Well, it was certainly nice of you to visit us on such a short notice, Narcissa. I don't suppose you would like to join us for dinner? We weren't prepared for guests, but we have always room for two more." She indicated the table, which indeed would have had enough space for more people.

"Do not worry about that, Natasha." Mrs. Malfoy's smile was about as fake as Daphne could remember ever having seen one. "We were in the middle of preparations and have our own dinner waiting for us at home. I simply wanted to confirm the... happy news in person since it does affect my family as well. And Draco wished to be among the first to congratulate the lucky bride-to-be. Isn't that right?" It didn't need a genius to see through the lie. But it didn't matter. Daphne knew she had almost made it through the first test.

The boy smiled pleasantly. "Naturally. I wanted to be there before the news got out. Daphne, congratulations. Please know that should you need anything I will be very happy to help you. After all, that is what friends do, isn't it?" He extended a hand, and, seeing no other alternative, Daphne shook it. But instead of the sudden knife to her chest or some curse or poisonous sting or something else, Draco simply returned with a firm grip, a small nod, and a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh, yes. If I need anything, I'm sure I'll remember your generous offer," Daphne forced herself to reply as she dropped her hand. She was starting to get even more worried. Thinking about it, she would have preferred a shouting and rambling Malfoy. Anger she had expected. Happiness she had expected. But the longer she watched him, the less she knew what to make of him. In all her time at Hogwarts, she couldn't remember Malfoy ever acting so graciously in defeat. He had, for all intents and purposes, lost his claim to the Greengrass fortune. Maybe he had his eyes on some bigger prey? It was possible. But he didn't look like he was happy or angry. Now that she got a good look at him, he appeared as if he didn't care about it at all. To her, it had been a big moment, a momentous event. It had marked the moment she decided to oppose the plans fate seemed to have made for her. The moment she had put her life on the line and potentially made a political statement. But Draco looked impassive. If it weren't for the show he was given, he might have been even bored. Could she have misjudged him so completely? Had she sold herself to Potter without any necessity?

"But then, I should congratulate you too," she found herself saying. Maybe he only needed to be engaged. "Just think of all the possibilities now open to you with the contract out of the way."

He nodded slowly. "Thank you. Yes, the new situation has upsides of its own," Draco said carefully. "I haven't considered the potential yet. It certainly simplifies matters." He seemed to consider for a moment, but Daphne could tell he was not really thinking about any plans at all.

Some small part of her felt insulted. Yes, she hadn't wanted to marry Malfoy. The farther he stayed away from her, the better in her opinion. But at the same time, that small part of her also wished he would at least fight for her or bemoan his loss. As egocentric as it may sound, she felt as if she had sold herself to the highest bidder, Potter, only to find out he had been the only one interested. Only, now that she thought about it, Potter hadn't even been interested in the first place. She had had to bribe him to make him buy her at all. Draco could at least grumble about losing her. Or maybe promise to steal her away, perhaps to some secret hideout in the south. Warm beaches, sunny days, the sea rushing against the shores, they would spend their nights away from the restrictions of society. Or he could challenge Potter to a duel for her hand or some other mushy stuff boys thought up in hopes of impressing their love. But to have him come after what amounted to years of build up, shrug and step aside without any sign of a fight was slightly disappointing.

"I will see where it leads. I have the whole future ahead of me now to be shaped by myself," Draco said with a slight smile. "I am my own man." His smile grew as he reflected on his realization.

Narcissa Malfoy relaxed for a moment, which calmed Daphne more than she would like to admit. Whatever they were, the Malfoys did love each other. And if she relaxed at the sight of her son acknowledging his newly gained freedom, then she would be far less likely to interfere. It had been one of her fears to see the Malfoys get in the way, trying to influence the negotiations. If Daphne wanted to have it dealt with quietly and fast, then she couldn't allow anyone to put their noses in or suspect foul play with the contract she wanted to set up with Potter. The Malfoys had been the biggest risk as they might have had some interest in the proceedings. If the Malfoys decided to keep from meddling in the negotiations, then one problem she had feared had just been cleared away.

As long as no one, especially not her parents, noticed anything off, the worst problems were dealt with. Well, apart from the whole secrecy and constant mortal danger she would have to live through. Which reminded her –she needed to write her friends as soon as possible. If she wanted to play the part of the distressed pureblood, she needed to lay the foundation.

"So that's it?" Astoria asked unhappily. Her parents threw her glares to silence her, but Daphne didn't bother. In her eyes, it was just the hell spawn being her usual self. Naturally, she would have to pay for wishing to witness Daphne getting in trouble, but nothing life threatening or harmful or else their parents might notice.

Mrs. Malfoy stared at Astoria with an unreadable expression. Then she snapped out of it. "Come now, Draco. We should probably leave now and let them have their holiday dinner." She hesitated, but seemed to have come to a decision. She stood up straight, and Daphne was shocked to see a very different Mrs. Malfoy. She looked confident and respectable, defiant and proud, very different from the insincere, mocking pureblood she had been earlier; something had changed. Daphne thought she could see why Lucius Malfoy might have fallen for her. "Natasha, I am sorry for your troubles. Cyrus, I hope you will find a good husband for your second daughter. If you have trouble, I would be glad to help you. Daphne, I do hope you will find happiness in your life."

Why did that sound so honest? None of the hostility from earlier had remained. But it also felt as if something was off.

"Astoria, I..." Mrs. Malfoy stopped. Her eyes twitched almost imperceptibly. Then, her face became surprisingly soft, and she continued with real sympathy. "Be sure to help your sister if she needs it."

Astoria apparently didn't understand the woman's words, and neither did Daphne. But their parents shifted into more comfortable stances. Daphne guessed they had understood more than the titbits she had. To her, it was still rather ominous, and she guessed there was some history she wasn't aware of.

Draco bowed to them, and both Malfoys left, Narcissa in the lead with newfound conviction as her son followed as dispassionately as he had seemed during the talk.

Daphne's father stood for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, he ran a hand through his hair. "Well, yes, that's... good, I guess." With a look at his wife, he added, "It could have gone worse, that's for sure."

"You will have to write to the boy as soon as possible," she replied with a shaky voice. "I don't care what others say; if we respect the traditions, and, no, I don't think we really can do anything else, unfortunately, then we need to get moving as quickly as possible. The faster we have the personalized contract in place, the better."

Well, Daphne reasoned, if she wanted the draft she had composed at Hogwarts to be used, she would have to act soon anyway, so why not mention it now? "Actually, I already wrote something at school. The other girls helped me. I thought, well, what with the contract and Draco... it's not perfect, of course, and we might need to adjust it a bit. But I did read up on the traditions, so it should be somewhat useful."

Her father sighed. "Fine. Bring it downstairs later and I... we will have a look, all right? But for now, maybe we should..." he glanced at the table.

"Right," his wife tried. "Err..."

"You told us about the soup," Astoria helped. She was a hell spawn, but stories about her family still captivated her. "You had made it the first time, and it had been delicious. You were about to tell us about the next year."

"Oh, yes. Right. The next year, I made it again. End of story. Let us eat."


On Thursday morning, Mr. Greengrass had corresponded with the elusive Mr. Potter. With time pressing as it was, the boy had agreed to meet as soon as possible, and since he had a room at Gringotts for other, less urgent business for the 28th, Mr. Greengrass had agreed to a first meeting, mainly to get a feel for the other party. The rest of the day, the family had spent preparing and looking through the books on traditions once more. Much to their dismay, they had found no way out of the obligation. The contract originally signed did demand a pureblood from the Greengrasss' side, true, but not for the Blacks, who had always prided themselves in their purity, which ironically had changed since then. Of course, back then, a shame like Harry Potter would have been removed from the family one way or another so there was a good chance that back then the Blacks had been pure. Based on that imbalance, the contract might not be as binding as most seemed to believe, Mrs. Greengrass had argued. Her husband had agreed half-heartedly, mostly because she was far more distressed by it then the rest of his family. Daphne had been oddly detached. Shock, he reasoned, but then, she would persevere in the end. Astoria had been ecstatic all day. Seeing her sister in trouble seemed to have been the best present she could ever hope of. Cyrus could understand it; he had been young once and had had a sibling rivalry going on as well.

Friday was much the same. Mrs. Greengrass had arranged for a meeting of her own on Saturday with a solicitor and expert on traditions. Her hope to ignore the Potter boy in favour of either skipping out on the contract or marrying Daphne to "that delightful Draco Malfoy" had kept her going and sane with sufficient sleep. Her husband hadn't been that optimistic. He had never been one for the finer details of laws and had always preferred the rules of magic and Potions.

In preparation for his meeting the next day, Daphne's father had questioned his children thoroughly. Astoria had talked extensively about the many transgressions she had seen, heard of or suspected of the boy. She had taken special delight in retelling the rumours about his affairs with students and staff alike. Daphne, who had classes with him and had witnessed the Potter boy since the start of school, had been decidedly more cautious. She had told the tales she had heard, yes, but with more than just a doubtful expression. She had mentioned the many strange coincidences surrounding the fabled Boy-Who-Lived, from the troll and sudden friendship with the previously isolated bookworm Granger, the disappearance of the defence teacher with the suspicious points at the end of the first year, probably a ploy by Dumbledore to see his old house win the House Cup, the rare talent of Parseltongue –very unusual from Mr. Greengrass' perspective. Daphne had also mentioned the odd changes around their Common Room at the end of fourth year and the unfaltering defence of his claims during fifth year about the return of the Dark Lord.

And so, Mr. Greengrass had gone to bed that day with a very confusing picture of this child. A marvellous hero or demented madman?

Saturday morning, after a quick breakfast, he left with Daphne. It had been decided, quite reasonably, that she ought to be present. Her preliminary contract had been acceptable to her family, she had presented a good case about her ideas, and would have to marry the boy. If she couldn't go, then who should? Additionally, since the young Mr. Potter would be there, it seemed only logical to have her present as well.

Mrs. Greengrass on the other hand had agreed to take Astoria with her. With Daphne married to a main target of the Death Eaters, the parents had decided to show their second daughter the challenges and duties of a pureblood heiress. It had taken far too long to get ready. Astoria had had trouble getting her things in order, had whined about a broadcast she had wanted to hear, about letters she had to write, but in the end, she had been ready to go along. With just a few minutes to spare, they arrived at the solicitor's office for their first appointment. Mr. Robert Andrews had worked frighteningly fast over the last day. As soon as they had finished exchanging pleasantries, he went over cases with some resemblance to the one at hand. However, each time he pointed out why, ultimately, it would no longer apply. Harry Potter wasn't a werewolf, which would have changed his status to unsuitable after the identification of the affected individuals. He had not acted against the House of Greengrass in the past in an inappropriate manner. He had never offered his help to the Greengrasses in illegal activities. He wasn't French. He wasn't this, he hadn't done that. In the end, Mr. Andrews came to the conclusion that indeed the contract hadn't been breached and was in fact both imbalanced and perfectly legal.

The second meeting took a similar route. Mr. Pierce, a genial, bony man in his nineties, listened to the problem. He asked a few questions here and there, looked over a copy of the original contract and concluded in the end that unfortunately for the Greengrasses and luckily for himself, the contract was well within the traditions and in fact very much not a breach of them. After that deduction, he was unwilling to consider ways to evade it, and the notion of disrespecting the honoured traditions infuriated him to the point that both Greengrasses were politely but determinedly asked to leave.

Mrs. Greengrass did what she usually resorted to in times of distress. As soon as she had arrived in their home, she began rearranging their home, moving the furniture, reshelving the books, pruning the plants and scaring a curious cat that had hidden in a corner.

Astoria on the other hand had been very put out about the development. The last days had been exceedingly fun. Her mother in constant worry, her father working hard to get the contractual obligation out of the way, Daphne in trouble... it had been a very entertaining time, especially since Astoria could watch her sister struggle. But since she couldn't go to Gringotts to cause further problems for Daphne and her mother had gone mental, all that was left was planning the future steps. Should she write her friends about the surprising turn of events? It might be fun to watch Daphne answer stupid questions all the time. Or perhaps start a rumour about Potter and Daphne's sudden marriage. A child on its way? But then, it would burn out relatively fast if no evidence turned up. Well, unless Astoria helped the evidence to show up. Maybe some nausea spell during the first week back? Have Daphne go to the hospital wing? Could work, but needed improvements.

But then, why limit to the school? If she was careful enough, she could inform Witch Weekly about the problem and earn herself a nice reward without being implicated. It was bound to come to light, so why shouldn't Astoria profit from it? All she knew was that Daphne shouldn't get away with it unscathed. While she was still thinking about it, her father returned with Daphne in tow. She looked tired, not surprising, but still a welcome sight. Astoria made to meet them, wanting to know as much of the gossip as possible.

Mrs. Greengrass stepped into the living room shortly after her youngest. "Well, Cyrus?" she asked. "How did it go?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I... I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. Potter, he had one of the bank workers help him. A Weasley, but still. We've given them a copy of our proposed contract."

Astoria put on her best smile. "Well, Daddy, how was it there? Must have been boring, stuck in a room with them all day."

Her father returned her smile, but he also seemed wary. "I can't say it hasn't been enlightening. That Weasley knows what he's doing and they are determined to get this done with as fast as possible. Nasty business, but then, they are in the same bind we are in. We will meet again on Monday, at Gringotts again. Having one of the workers assist does have its advantages, it seems."

His wife pursed her lips. "And the boy? Potter?"

This time, Mr. Greengrass exchanged a quick glance with his daughter. "I don't like him, which is a good sign, I suppose. He certainly hasn't been slacking in the last days and was well informed. But still, I could almost smell his heritage. A bit brash, perhaps? In any case, should we have to go through with it, he shouldn't pose that much of a problem. Ideally, we should keep him out of sight. Daphne and her husband being out of the country, unfortunately, but they send their regards. Something like that."

"We can't claim they are out of the country all the time, Cyrus," his wife argued. "Someone is bound to connect the dots."

"We won't have to, I think, only until the contract is no longer an issue. Marriage contracts can be dissolved if they fail to serve their purpose. With the Black family almost died out..."

"There's still Draco Malfoy to continue the line," his wife pointed out.

Daphne snorted, and her father continued with a smile, "Yes, that was my reply as well. The young Mr. Potter on the other hand seemed doubtful about Draco Malfoy's capability to 'continue the line'."

"A bit full of himself, isn't he? He thinks he can do better?" Astoria frowned. An insult against a pureblood wasn't something she took all that lightly.

Daphne turned to her with a smile. "He doesn't, actually, which is kind of the point. He agreed to an heir clause. If no heir is born, then the marriage has failed and both parties go their separate ways."

Her mother blinked, but then started to smile. "Yes. Yes, that could work. Since you wouldn't let him touch you, of course no heir would be born."

"We're not quite sure how long the contract would stay in effect," her husband cautioned. "Some sources write about nine years, as in the square of the smallest magical number, others point to twenty-seven years..."

"We can't wait twenty-seven years to have that dreaded contract out of the way!"

"Well, I tend to agree, yes, but it's still not certain. Since part of the reason for the heir clause to be put in would be the revival of a pureblood family..."

"But he is not a pureblood!" Astoria complained. It was going far too well for her liking.

"His grandchildren would be. And the only basis for his impurity would be his mother. There are Death Eaters with more Muggle in them," Daphne argued with a roll of her eyes. "Back to topic. I think we can work with a lower number. If a marriage with one family does not work out, there is little reason to waste time." Daphne frowned as if thinking. "Maybe we should still go by magically powerful numbers. Three is out, too short to be an option, not enough time." She rubbed her chin. "Seven? Does that even work? I know, magically powerful, and it should be enough time, but..."

Silence answered her. "Maybe we should look into that, then?" she proposed.

"More reading?" Astoria whined.

"More? You hardly did anything in the first place," Daphne reminded her, "only supervised the elf for a few minutes here or there. But it shouldn't take too long."


"Well, how about, no wait, listen," Ron tried, "how about you get her in trouble or something? If she's not... not proper or, you know... that might work, right? Or maybe ask the goblins. You've got the gold, so they're bound to know some trick to get you out of it."

Harry was glad he had his back to Ron; he didn't feel like keeping his exasperation in check. He had endured the well-meant advice from both Mrs. Weasley and her husband, although neither had found any way to cancel the contract, thankfully.

"The contract is iron-clad," he said, doing his best to control his voice. "Not everything has a secret out, and not everything can be solved by throwing gold at it. And it is a bit late for the former. The contract is active, and short of her dying, there's little that can get me out of it."

"But there's gotta be something you can do," Ron argued.

Harry turned around and gazed at his friend. "I am doing the only thing I can –I try to find a solution out of this mess. The only option left is having to deal with Greengrass. Neither of us has a choice in the matter. Or do you think I like having to deal with this?"

"Well, no, of course not," Ron grumbled. "No one would be happy about that. But it's not fair, you having to deal with all this crap. You having to... err... she's a Slytherin, you can't trust her, not right now and likely never."

"And you know the traditions, they are yours more than mine," Harry added, careful to neither confirm nor deny his dislike for the situation. "No, it's not fair to me, but... Greengrass had about as much choice in the matter as I had, Ron. If it's not fair to me, then it's equally as unfair to her." He wasn't lying, Harry told himself.

"Tcheh, her," Ron scoffed. "Shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?"

"I've got you lot doing that for me," Harry replied, smiling slightly. "Look, I can't expect you to be best friends forever with her. I'm not, after all. But I cannot see her as the enemy all the time. She's in the same trouble as I am, maybe even more –marrying me will put her in danger. Until this is sorted out, I'm already stressed enough as it is, I don't need you talking bad about her."

"You think she won't do the same about you?" Ron countered, grumbling.

"So you want to follow her example?" Harry sighed. "Doesn't matter. If she wants to bad-mouth me, so be it. I've had people talk bad about me in the past. I'll survive. But I can't hate her just because she's in Slytherin. My grandmother was one –Dorea Black. Since you're related to the Blacks, you should have some relatives who were Slytherins as well."

"Don't remind me," Ron groaned.

"But that's just it. If Greengrass does try something, then because she chooses to, not because she was sorted into one house or the other. I have enough to worry about, Ron. You don't have to like her, but I still have to meet her and deal with her. Nothing you say will change that." He glanced to the side. "Ron, can we... can we not talk about this for a moment? There's something I wanted to show you. See, we sometimes talk about sensitive stuff..."

"Think we're coming at the right moment, o brother of mine?" one of the twins asked, stepping into the room.

"Maybe we should wait for a bit and let the two finish their argument," the other twin replied, narrowing his eyes.

Harry threw them a glance. "How nice of you to interrupt and come in without so much as knocking first."

"'tis our room, technically," one of the twins said, shrugging. "And there's little of you we haven't seen already."

"What do you want?" Ron spat.

"Well, since you're asking so nicely, we offered to fetch you. Well, fetch Harry, technically. Bill's here, and he's ready to leave for Gringotts. You, Ron, can stay wherever you like."

"You could go to the loo," his twin spoke up.

"Or to your room."

"The chicken coop is rather lovely this time of the year."

"Or you could try to calm Mum down, she's in hysterics over poor little Harrykins having to suffer such an injustice."

"There's lunch in the kitchen, but she's not guarding it right now."

"You could trounce Ginny in a game of chess."

"He can do that any old day," the twin Harry was sure was Fred pointed out.

"True, but why waste an opportunity?"

Just then, murmurs sounded up from the living room.

The twin who was likely George pointed to a corner. "Oh, look, I'd forgotten about that box. Remember when we finally got that rainbow-colouring potion to work?"

"When it did what it was meant to do, or when it blew up and burned off our eyebrows?"

"Both, I guess," probably-George answered with a smile, walking over to the boxes.

"Well, don't trash my stuff, alright?" Harry asked them. "I'm attached to some of the things around here."

"Not so fast, little one," maybe George spoke up, turning on the spot. His brother immediately went to guard the door. "There's something we wanted to talk to you about."

"Can't it wait? I don't want to be late to..."

"You shouldn't waste precious time, then," maybe-Fred pointed out. "We just wanted to tell you that if you need anything, if you have any trouble, either getting this contract business done or having someone keep an eye on the Greengrasses..."

"Finding out who they're meeting with, for example," probably-George explained.

"Or keeping the little Missus in line," possibly-Fred said with a pointed look.

"Or anything else, just know we're on your side. You lead, we follow."

Harry felt his face heat up at the declaration. "Well, I... that's very generous of you, but I doubt it'll be necessary."

"Why not?" Ron spoke up. "That'd be really useful."

"I don't need to keep the missus in line. I'll likely have very little to do with her. I don't need to spy on her. I know what she wants –this contract out of the way. Spy on her all you want, but we've already agreed to get the personalized contract done as soon as possible. By the time you'll find out something useful, it might very well be signed and sealed. If you want to help me, then keep your parents busy. I don't want them breathing down my neck all the time, and I don't need those sad looks your mum's constantly throwing my way. I'm already down enough as it is."

"Keep her busy?" likely-Fred questioned. "Well, we could see what we can do."

"But Mum's hard to distract once she's made a decision," his twin added.

"I know, it's just... every time I'm meeting with the Greengrasses, I already have Bill looking out for me. I'm well aware just how serious the situation is. I'm already worrying myself, and her –or anyone else for that matter –constantly treating me as if I'm facing a death sentence does not help me. People bad-mouthing Greengrass doesn't, either," Harry said, throwing Ron a pointed look. "So far, she's been decent, all things considered."

The twins exchanged a look, both fighting a smile. "Well, we'll see what we can do."

"As long as I don't have to like her," Ron grumbled.

Harry nodded curtly. "Thank you."


And finally there's some progress. Also, that Greengrass scene so many people seemed to have missed last time.

.

Fixed two typos. I also changed the first scene from Daphne lying on her bed to her reminding herself twice that Astoria is her sister and once of a truce with the implication of them playing nice for the holiday.