Not with a Half-blood!
Chapter Fifteen: Sometimes things don't work out.Daphne lay in bed, with Harry's arm over her, a slightly unwelcome presence, given her growing need to go to the loo. There was increasingly blue light glimmering around the gaps in the curtains. The only thing worse than living with a morning person, she mused, was having one's sleep cycle slowly manipulated into being a morning person oneself. He was still asleep, probably sleeping off the nightmare he'd had. Which had, of course, shortened her sleep. If he wasn't so irresponsible, she'd make him sleep in another room. Or conceptually she could sleep in her room, but it had a worse view here at Grimmauld place. But he did kiss her hand very attentively. The need to pee fought the desire for more cuddle.
Harry let out a yawn, and he moved, and by the feel of it, had just kissed her hair. Daphne felt that a quick trip to the loo could be followed up by warm, snuggly husband.
Daphne turned her head "Oh you've decided to wake up?" she said. He was being affectionate. He had a dopey look on his face that – . He looked handsome, if stubbly. His chin would scratch if he kissed her. Apart from wanting to go to the loo, Daphne rather smug that such a handsome, funny, kind man was her lover. Because he was. And given a moment beforehand for a trip to the loo, he might easily be talked into a slow, passionate snog.
"We need to talk… about that Greengrass heir" said Harry. The warm fluffy feeling she'd had, the anticipation of a good shag died.
Daphne tensed up. He was actually going to ruin the morning by talking about this now.
"Not making it today" said Harry, smiling at her, but his pupils had shrunk. The edge of his eyes looked tight all of a sudden. Oh, it scared him too. That was almost comforting.
"Don't think you could" said Daphne. "Besides, I'm still taking the potion."
"I thought you were cross with me" asked Harry, and the look of clueless confusion on his face was so bally adorable. His bally cheekbones combined with bluish stubble normally had him looking dark and brooding, but he looked… so vulnerable. Daphne resisted the urge to lick her lips.
"You might become persuasive" murmured Daphne. Harry leaned closer and breathed out onto Daphne's neck.
"You are not persuading me" said Daphne, unmoved by his feeble effort.
A gentle nip on her neck, was a different matter "Well, if you can get back from the bathroom without being too cold…"
Harry slid out of bed and dashed off. Daphne stood up, grabbed her wand, waited till his bathroom door closed, and apparated to her loo. It was cold, but warming charms quickly fixed that. She relieved herself, washed hastily with a flannel, and put a tiny bit of jasmine perfume on from the hidden tiny bottle, and apparated back to his room, and slipped into bed, all before Harry got back from the loo.
Harry came in, in slippers and pyjamas, licking his teeth the way he did when he'd just brushed. He began with a minty kiss. Apparently warm slippers made him capable of getting back to bed and not being cold… and a few other things. Mutually agreeable things. He had his good points, Daphne supposed, feeling warm all over and… quite well cuddled. She rolled over, pulled on her nightgown, and called out "Kreacher!"
Kreacher appeared with a pop.
"Mistress calls?" he croaked.
"Breakfast" purred Daphne lazily, and Kreacher vanished with another pop.
Daphne lay and looked at the ceiling for a little time, conserving her limited remaining energy, then Kreacher delivered the breakfast tray.
Harry sat up and cheerily – bloody morning person – ate a kipper.
Daphne yawned and dosed herself with tea. The waking nightmare of yesterday seemed unreal, and Harry had been very real this morning. And it had cheered him up – and that satiated feeling was quite pleasant.
Harry looked less upset as he ate breakfast. Daphne dealt with the post distractedly – the urge to just flop on Harry and use him as a warm pillow fought the duty to check the mail. Jimmy had sent the menu for today. It looked very... comforting. He really was a dear. "Is Granger still sleeping in the chair in the yellow room?" she asked.
"I'll go check" said Harry and he apparated off, apparated back "Yes" said Harry, getting back into bed and slumping. Daphne handed him a teacup. White with two sugars. There was no need for him to take his tea differently to hers.
The mail salver also had a rather official looking letter to Harry Potter-Black. Daphne opened it. The Auror office wished to interview Harry. 'Accusations of excessive force.'
"Dear Husband" said Daphne, her warm, affectionate mood utterly ruined. "The Auror office want to talk to you about the attack. They imply you might have used excessive force."
"Bollocks" said Harry, audibly grinding his teeth.
"Indeed" said Daphne "Try and keep yours, after you deal with Dawlish."
"I will get right on that" said Harry, with the air of a husband about to avoid a task he did not wish to perform. Daphne resisted the urge to huff with annoyance.
"I will send a letter, and you will turn up at a mutually convenient time" said Daphne. He looked pensive, so she explained a bit "Under the House and Grounds act of eighteen-oh-three, when attacked at home, a head of house is allowed to use anything except the Unforgivables in self-defence. I hope you didn't cast the first spell."
"I dodged several purple ones. Someone knew some Dolohov specials" admitted Harry "Particularly nasty expelling – "
"Stop!" interrupted Daphne. "I don't want to hear about it. I'm not intrigued by vile curses." It was bad enough seeing the mess made when they were attacked.
"Okay, well, anything to do today?" Harry asked.
"Apart from setting Little Hangleton right?" asked Daphne "Nothing. I'll suggest one pm."
"I'll uh, do windows, the downstairs sofa, then start on the trees" mused Harry.
"The downstairs sofa?" asked Daphne "The brocade sofa?" she said, an innocent brocade sofa, Even uncle Tom's louts had left it alone!
"The one in the drawing room, yes" agreed Harry.
"I liked that sofa" said Daphne crossly "They had no business just blowing up an innocent sofa. Nobody was in the room."
"They died poorly" said Harry bluntly. Served them right thought Daphne.
"Good" snapped Daphne "You'd better be home for dinner. Jimmy's making pie."
"What's lunch?" asked Harry.
"Kedgeree" said Daphne "Jimmy wanted to do something more difficult than soup."
"I'll be back noonish then" said Harry, tidying up his breakfast.
"You'll be back at half-past eleven at the latest, or sleep on your own tonight" corrected Daphne.
"I hear and obey" said Harry. Daphne glowered briefly at him. "Arse" she said. He had the temerity to blink, and his green eyes caught the light a bit. How dare he try looking handsome again!
Daphne went to Harry's bathroom – it was warmer after all, and washed off, and did her hair. As she massaged the shampoo in, she looked out the dormer at the rooftops of the rest of Grimmauld place. It all seemed so unreal. A day ago, our quiet house in the country was a war zone.
Daphne dried off and went to dress and write a critical letter. The Auror office would play on Harry's honourableness – when they should be hunting down the people behind the attack. Obviously the actual assailants were dead, there was one certainty when your husband could stop a Dark Lord. That wannabe's were a risk, but provided he was not very unlucky, he'd win. He'd had so many cuts though. So much blood. And Weasley. Well, that had been a confusing awful mess. Seeing Harry bleeding had been, it had been unsatisfactory.
It took three letters, back and forth with the bloody Auror office to get them to agree to just coming and interviewing Harry at home. Sodding Salazar had bitten her repeatedly. Mrs Foster had been right there, and episky'ed her hands immediately, while the little monster glared at her. The Auror office's starting position was for Harry to come in for questioning. As if. He was Harry bloody Potter-Black. He'd acted in self-defence. And the crowds were risky, a disgruntled associate might attack Harry. She was keeping her reckless husband at home, where he'd be safer.
"Jimmy" asked Daphne "A recipe for Owl?"
"Bit you again?" asked Jimmy.
"Three letters" said Daphne.
"Ouch. Still, Himself likes Snowy owls, eh." said Jimmy.
Himself was bally well getting cold a supper at this rate, thought Daphne. Bloody vile beast.
She went to the dining room and sat at the right hand of the chair at the head of the table, that should have her irresponsible husband in it. It was empty. Mrs Foster arrived with a couple of plates of Kedgeree, and a basket of freshly made bread, and laid the plates out.
"Maam" said Mrs Foster. "The Kedgeree is very good, but just don't add pepper, that's all I'm saying. Have plenty of bread with it."
Daphne eyed the basket of sliced bread, and drew her wand, and cast a warming charm on Harry's plate.
"Is everything all right Maam?" asked Mrs Foster.
"I believe My husband is late for lunch" said Daphne. "KREACHER! Lemonade, please."
A glass of lemonade appeared with a pop, and Mrs Foster staggered, one hand to her chest, getting paler and paler "But he died." she gasped.
"Shit" Daphne cursed, and drew her wand "Obliviate!" she snapped out, and thought about what to do. Mrs Foster stood by the dining table, head lolling, eyes glazed.
Daphne took a deep breath then said "Daphne summoned a glass of lemonade, she did not mention the deceased house elf, and you were rather impressed that Mrs Black could summon a glass of Lemonade" said Daphne, and gave her wand that awkward little sideways flick. Mrs Foster blinked and stood up properly.
"Sorry Maam, Don't know what came over me" said Mrs Foster. Thankfully.
"It's okay Esme, we've all been under a lot of stress in the last few days. Erm, can you remind Jimmy that I don't eat bread or pasta. So, next time he does Kedgeree, which I'm sure will be lovely, some salad?"
Mrs Foster nodded "About that, it's just there wasn't any fresh vegetables in the pantry, and with lock-down, and all… bread was what we had."
"Oh" said Daphne, "The Floo's working again."
"But we're going home tomorrow" said Mrs Foster. And Daphne realised that yes, they were all going home tomorrow, and there'd be salad vegetables, and… no brain splattered across her parlour.
"You're quite right" said Daphne "It's just I'm watching my weight."
"So's the master" said Mrs Foster lightly, leaving briskly. Had she just?… she had.
Daphne wondered how one dealt with having servants who were older than one, in the longer term, as it were. If Esme had seen Harry getting an eyeful, … how were they supposed to do naughty things around the house?
After a few moments thinking , Daphne decided all the staff would have a joint day off at least weekly. So she'd have the house to herself. With… tall dark and handsome. Who was tall dark and not here, right now. A moment later her hands started feeling shaky, her eyeballs too tight, her chest squashed, her stomach roiling. Daphne concentrated hard, lifted her wand and summoned the bottle of Calming Draught. And it actually worked, even if the bottle whizzed into the room from the stairwell. Daphne had a big swallow of it, and felt her breathing becoming easier. It would be fine, Harry was good at Defence against the Dark arts, and the Auror office would be surely still be hanging around the property boundary. Once she felt completely normal, thank you, she banished the bottle back to the medicine cabinet. And mused that 'you could do without a House-Elf if you just extended yourself a little on a few useful charms.'
Some time passed – Daphne dipped into the novel in her robe pocket. The heroine seemed like a complete dimwit.
The front door opened and closed, Daphne hid the novel, and Harry strolled into the dining room and sat, so casually, he was clearly covering up something.
"You lost track of the time, didn't you?" said Daphne.
"Only a tiny bit" admitted Harry. Daphne warmed her Kedgeree. It was good, if a little spicy. Harry ate his with slices of bread slathered in butter.
"You have a one-thirty meeting with Dawlish here." said Daphne. "Which meant three letters sent by Salazar. He was his usual vicious self."
"Show me your hands?" he asked, dropping his slice of bread onto his kedgeree plate abruptly.
"Mrs Foster has a perfectly adequate 'epsiky', thank you" said Daphne, extending her hand.
Harry inspected her hand and gave it several kisses that were a lot slower and longer that would have been publicly decent. Daphne felt her face warming. He lifted his face from her hand and looked up at her, looking rather handsome and very em… well, it reminded her of that day on this very dining table. "Arse" she said fondly. He had the temerity to grin crookedly at her. Stupid sexy husband.
"I got a bit distracted because I changed our en-suite to have a bath just like the good en-suite and added a dormer window" admitted Harry.
"You did what?" asked Daphne, crossing her arms in annoyance. He hadn't asked her about tiles, or anything. Whose house was it anyway!
"Well, I transfigured it bigger and transfigured the shower into another claw-footed bathtub" admitted Harry "It looks quite good. Oh, and the sofa, and all the broken windows and burn marks on the house."
"The grounds?" asked Daphne. All the trees, the roses, the lawns. It was a wreck.
"I got distracted" Harry shrugged. "I'll do the barn this afternoon."
"It looked ruined" observed Daphne "Vanish it, and we can use the foundations for the ballroom."
"I'll do that, after Dawlish is through complaining" sighed Harry.
"Can you mend the trees?" asked Daphne.
"I'm rubbish with trees" admitted Harry "Neville's brilliant at Herbology; Professor Sprout bandaged up the whomping willow after Ron and I hit it with the flying car"
Daphne tried not to think about young Harry being just… stupid and reckless. "Shall I write to Longbottom?" asked Daphne.
"Er, I am a bit busy this afternoon, aren't I?" admitted Harry.
"I'll see, maybe he can drop by. His house wasn't just attacked by Death Eaters, after all." said Daphne. Harry rolled his eyes.
"They were wannabes" he said. "Rubbish."
"This afternoon, Dawlish, here" Daphne reminded Harry "One thirty." Harry looked at his watch "Right" he said. "I'll um… read spells after lunch then."
Daphne thought 'yes, brushing up on spells is a good idea.' and resolved to ensconce herself in her small parlour with a household charms book. Mrs Weasley made it look bloody easy, and even Fleur, who she assumed had servants, was brilliant at household cleaning and rearrangement charms.
"Husband?" asked Daphne.
Harry looked up from his Kedgeree again "What?" he asked, the shadows of his cheekbones and his green eyes making him look dark and mysterious. Which he wasn't. Except when he turned out to be a Necromancer.
Daphne paused as long as she dared, thinking about how to ask "When you talk to Dawlish, may I sit in. I won't say a word." said Daphne.
"Uh, I'd rather you did" said Harry "I didn't know about the house and grounds act thing."
Daphne resisted saying anything about Hogwarts having a political agenda, trying to eliminate laws Dumbledore didn't approve of by simply ensuring nobody knew about them.
After lunch, Harry kissed her hand again, once again lingering inappropriately long, and that reminded Daphne uncomfortably distractingly of that rather adventurous day in the dining room again.
"I'll go wait in the library" said Harry, and he walked off. Daphne stood up and followed him up the stairs. And, those jeans of his fit very well. Her lips felt unaccountably dry. She followed him into the library, found a household charms book and left with a little wave of her fingers. He was already face-first into a scroll, hissing to himself softly.
If one used one's imagination, it was like a kettle, not hideous dark magic.
To save time later, Daphne got changed into one of adoptive-grandmama Walburga's day-robes, which were severe enough for dealing with the DMLE, settled into her comfy chair and started reading.
To actually read a book on just household charms was a novelty. Daphne had no idea there were a dozen different stirring charms. Well, she did now, she thought. There were more tricky little variations on cleaning charms than Daphne had ever imagined. Witches and wizards, Daphne supposed spent a lot of time cleaning their homes, if they didn't have a house-elf, and having a charm to get stuff out from under table-legs was probably useful in the long run. Daphne skipped forward in the book. Mrs Foster clearly knew all that sort of thing.
There was a charm for cleaning spilled food – which would be a good one to know, when the erm, heir to Greengrass eventuated. Daphne read it carefully, and started practising – and it would be useful as she seemed to have fallen into the habit of breakfast in bed with Harry.
And Mrs Foster knocked on her doorpost a little later, "Maam, Mr Black requests you come to the library. Head Auror Dawlish is here."
Daphne put the book to one side, quickly checked her hair, and walked down one floor to the library.
Head Auror Dawlish looked uncomfortable standing in front of Harry's desk, so Daphne sat next to Harry, behind it.
Dawlish pursed his lips "I did not anticipate talking with you wife about such bad business" he said formally.
"My Wife is my business manager and also legal advisor." said Harry. Daphne held his knee gently.
Dawlish's brow furrowed at the scrolls. "That scroll rack looks positively medieval, I had no idea the Blacks had that many scrolls" he said.
"These are Slytherin scrolls" corrected Harry, and with a wave of his hand, the door shut. "Now, please sit." That, thought Daphne, could seem to someone uncharitable, like Harry had just done intimidating wandless magic, and told the Head Auror to sit.
Dawlish was frozen on the spot, staring "Slytherin scrolls?" he asked.
"Yes" said Harry blandly, "my mother's family are Slytherins, a long time ago."
Dawlish sat down "I uh, I'd heard your mother was muggle-born" he said, off balance. Daphne fought to keep a poker face. He was going to be like this, was he.
"Maybe muggle-borns are just the offspring of squibs" dismissed Harry "I'm not sure, but I can speak to snakes and that came in handy in ninety-two, when I had to kill great-to-the how many grandfather's Basilisk, that Voldemort was using to terrify Hogwarts."
"A Basilisk at Hogwarts?" asked Dawlish, looking thoughtful "There is something fishy in the records for ninety-three. A lot of overtime for Obliviators."
Daphne's gripped Harry's knee tightly. Don't tell them anything- he's fishing, you idiot.
"It was snaky, not fishy" observed Harry drily "Now, you want to complain?"
Daphne bit back a groan at his terrible pun. He was awful at puns.
"We ah, had great difficulty identifying some of the assailants at your property" said Dawlish "Did you have to use blasting curses on them all?" Daphne redoubled her grip on his knee. Harry winced slightly.
"They opened with multiple volleys of Dolohov's purple spell" observed Harry sourly "I thought everyone who knew it was dead or behind bars."
Dawlish's face changed from a professional calm to surprise "His spell?" Daphne relaxed her grip.
"I saw Hermione Granger get hit by it in the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries" said Harry "I'd say I recognised it."
Dawlish looked thoughtful "One of the John Doe's might be from Dolohov's old home town." he said slowly.
"So a cousin" Harry drawled. "Bloody great." Daphne's hand slapped his leg lightly. Don't swear, it makes you sound common, she thought.
"Healers have written reports. Eight or nine of them might have survived is someone hadn't used piercing hexes on them" Dawlish said very evenly, staring at Harry.
"I was fighting outnumbered seventeen to one, I couldn't afford the risk of them healing each other" said Harry politely. "You understand." Daphne remembered the duelling dummies exploding in daddy's basement.
"No" said Dawlish firmly "I do not. Nobody fights outnumbered seventeen to one. Not even Dumbledore."
"I've seen Dumbledore fight against Voldemort." said Harry, enjoying the flinch from Dawlish "Dumbledore could fight cousin Tom to a standstill."
Dawlish nodded looking nostalgic.
"I escaped with my life when from duelling him when I was fourteen" explained Harry "And killed him when I was seventeen. How many Aurors does it take to stop Voldemort?" Harry asked rhetorically.
Dawlish looked lemony "It's not the same, nobody can beat Voldemort."
"I did when I was seventeen, with no sleep for days before" explained Harry slowly "The prophecy goes, the dark lord will mark him as his equal" Harry tapped his faded scar. "I can't demonstrate because I've already killed him. But rest assured, unless you're a dark lord as powerful as 'Lord Voldemort'" Harry used finger quotes in mid-air for that "anyone fighting me is outnumbered. You went to Hogwarts. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. Coincidentally, I beat a dragon when I was fourteen. Don't try it, it's often lethal."
"You realise there has to be a hearing" said Dawlish. "With seventeen people dead."
"Who attacked me" said Harry "I just defended myself."
"You're not above the law, just because you're Harry Potter" said Dawlish patiently.
"The house and grounds act of eighteen-oh-three" said Daphne firmly. Honestly, he was just showing off now.
Dawlish looked surprised. "You know about that one" he said.
Daphne looked down her nose at Dawlish. Dawlish had the good grace to look embarrassed. They bally well had been scheming to manipulate Harry, using his honourableness.
"And I'm prepared appear in the wizengamot to face seventeen counts of self-defence under the house and grounds act of eighteen-oh-three" said Harry. "And anyone finding me guilty of anything but self-defence would have to prove I used Unforgivables. I'll testify under verritassium; to prove my innocence."
"You used to be a quiet little schoolboy" said Dawlish, defeated. Daphne felt smug. He was the head of one of the oldest, most terrible houses in Britain, and the Ministry should bally well just get out of his way. Well, technically the head of two of the oldest, most terrible houses in Britain, but the other one, well it was not something they admitted to. Much.
"I'm a married man. I have responsibilities, and legal advice." said Harry. "I've found that saving the entire world was very tiring, and deadly, but on the upside, everyone knows I saved them. Even my wife is grateful" said Harry, half-smiling.
Sometimes, Daphne mentally conceded.
"Do you mind me asking, why did you marry her?" asked Dawlish "The most ridiculous stories are circulating?"
"Oh Really?" asked Harry, feeling interested "Do tell?"
Daphne resisted the urge to lean forward with interest. Given the absolute rot that Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet had printed at the time, the rumours from the ministry would be interesting, if nothing else. Harry's relationship with 'Shack' not least among them.
"One story is that you and your wife have been secret lovers since meeting at Hogwarts" said Dawlish. Harry coughed, and Daphne felt personally insulted! As if. If he'd been her secret lover, she'd have grabbed him by the collar at the end of the battle of Hogwarts and snogged his face off, and then retired with him to a warm bedroom, not coming out for a week at least. And he'd bally well have looked shagged stupid at the end of that week!
"There also a rumour I have to ask about, that she's blackmailing you, forced you to marry her" said Dawlish. Daphne resisted the urge to cross her arms and tell Harry to evict this person forthwith.
Harry blinked "Wow" he had to say "I've… my wife… well, she's coercing me today, for sure. If I get into more trouble, she will go sleep in a different room." Harry admitted. Daphne patted his knee. He would perhaps get a warm meal tonight.
Dawlish blinked. "Oh" he said "But… that's..."
"Boringly normal" admitted Harry. "We have a boringly normal marriage" he continued, and Daphne was astonished at the ease with which he said that. "Aunt Narcissa, when I was adopted by Sirius Black, but not yet seventeen, signed a marriage contract for me with the Greengrasses, knowing Voldemort would have me dead before the contract matured. Unfortunately for that plan, I lived, cousin Tom died, and we were wed. Declaring my wife unacceptable seemed too high a price to pay. I'd practically died to save everyone, getting married hardly seemed too much to ask to save one more person. We get along" said Harry. 'Get Along?' thought Daphne. 'You worship the ground I walk on, husband. In a sexual, bowing to my superior intellect sort of way.'
"Why do you call you-know-who Cousin Tom?" asked Dawlish.
"Oh, nobody told you, and you the Head Auror?" asked Harry "Tom Marvolo Riddle was born in London, son of Tom Riddle, muggle, late of Little Hangleton, and Merope Gaunt. Love potion was implicated. Daddy Tom ran off as soon as Merope stopped dosing him. Merope went to London and died giving birth or soon after. Tom Riddle was raised in a muggle orphanage, went to Hogwarts, was prefect, Slytherin of course, and killed Myrtle Warren with the Basilisk, framing Rubeus Hagrid for it. Changed his name to Lord Voldemort; acronym he made up, when he was twelve, I think, and nearly took over Britain. The Gaunts were related to the Peverells, so are the Potters. The Gaunts were parselmouths and proud of it; descendants of Slytherin. My mother who was definitely not a Gaunt, but definitely a parselmouth, left me green eyes, like her and great-how-many-grandfather Salazar. We have a love poem from his wife where she compliments his eyes as green like mugwort. The poem is a bit saucy to be seen outside of family, and the Chamber of Secrets has snakes with green eyes as the locks."
Daphne considered that this speech, should Harry have made it at a family dinner, would have had the older, more, erm, bigoted family members warming to him. And had Mummy pressuring her to have a pile of children, to continue the bloodline. No, she was only having the one. And maybe one more if being pregnant wasn't too bad.
Dawlish looked very thoughtful "You're related to him on both sides of your family" he asked plainly. It was so hard not to snort at just how terribly Dark Family Harry really was. He made the old Malfoys look like a bunch of puffed up clothes horses. Draco had been playing with fire all the time he was at Hogwarts.
"Hence, Cousin Tom. And it's short and derisive" admitted Harry. "Before you leave, I will show you two things, firstly, Slytherins' locket."
Harry undid his top buttons of his robe and shirt, pulled out his mokeskin pouch and drew out the locket.
"A mokeskin pouch" murmured Dawlish. "Those are very handy." Daphne tried not to groan. He'd given away a secret. A tactical advantage. Recklessly, the same way he did everything.
Harry hung the locket from his hand "See the S picked out in emeralds?"
Dawlish nodded.
"It's also a snake. Can you see that now?" asked Harry.
"Stylised, but yes" said Dawlish.
Harry hissed something shortto the locket, and it opened with a click.
"You just… hissed at it" said Dawlish "Like a snake."
"Parsseltounge, that'ss what it soundss like" lisped Harry, and opened up the locket.
Dawlish leaned forward and took a look, and sat back, smiling "You get along?"
Daphne leaned over and had a look at the locket. She sat back thinking – he's got MY photos in his, irreplaceable family heirloom locket. That only he can open. And she felt unaccountably warm.
"Oh please, you have a photo of your wife, probably on your desk?" asked Harry.
"Not in a parseltounge locked locket that dates back a thousand years" said Dawlish "Why is it damaged?"
"Because Cousin Tom made seven Horcruxes. Be careful who you ask what a Horcrux is. They're very evil magic." said Harry "He split his soul and put bits in things. Made him immortal till my friends and I, instead of seventh year, killed those seven anchors" said Harry. "Dumbledore left me that job to do."
Dawlish just stared at Harry, looking like an idiot. A cowed idiot, but Horcruxes?Ugh, they sounded vile.
"It was a hard year" finished Harry, sounding tired. Daphne patted his knee. He had been very tired in their first year of marriage. A less tired Harry Potter would have been more fun.
Dawlish went paler. "You…."
"Didn't just show up, duel and win" suggested Harry shaking his head "No. That would have been so much easier." Harry said and added glumly "Fewer friends would have died."
"Well, I'll get a hearing for self-defence organised. We'll make sure you get several days warning" said Dawlish in a business-like tone. And just like that, the head Auror had rolled over, thought Daphne.
Harry put his locket away and buttoned his shirt
"You never struck me as a soppily romantic man, Mister Potter" said Dawlish "You have a lot of secrets." As if he was soppily romantic. Bah. Great kisser, handsome, but he was closed off – he got a stupid look on his face sometimes, but he wasn't soppily romantic. Was he?
Harry herded Dawlish up the stairs to the third floor landing. Daphne following him. His arse was right there, and … well he didn't squawk when she grabbed it. Like a coconut. Daphne did it a couple more times, just to be sure. Yup, both of them. The warm feeling she had did not abate.
They arrived at the circle of floorboards hanging on the wall. Harry pointed airily at the wooden shield hanging on the wall said "My Mother made this runic circle. Powered by her willing sacrifice of her life, it saved me from a killing curse, and kept protecting me for a very long time."
Dawlish stared "That's… bloody hell that's complicated" he exclaimed.
"My mother was twenty-one when she designed that" said Harry, "If she'd lived, she would have changed the world."
"Wow" said Dawlish. "It's… the most complicated thing I've ever seen."
Harry disagreed "No, it's more complicated than that. Now look very closely at the centre circle. Those are not artefacts of the carving process. They're engraved snakes. In Parseltougne it spells out " Harry hissed something that made the hair in the back of her neck stand up, "over and over." he finished, in English.
"What was that you… said" said Dawlish, swallowing. Daphne resisted the urge the smooth the hair on the back of her neck, which had lifted at that hissing. It had sounded bally magical and dark and, she only vaguely remembered what he'd claimed it said. Protect or something.
"Protect the Young" explained Harry. "Now, I think it's time for you to leave. I'm feeling quite upset enough telling the story of my mother's tragically foreshortened life." And Daphne felt like the air in the stairwell was pressing down on her. Possibly, because Harry was exercised about his mother's death. Or maybe she was imagining it. She'd thought things about him just after they married that didn't hold up to more experience of Harry. Daphne held Harry's hand as he walked downstairs. He gave her hand a little gentle squeeze, and the warm feeling persisted. She glanced over, and Harry looked pensive.
Dawlish walked silently all the way downstairs, and left by the floo.
Jimmy was leaning on a cupboard "That was the head Auror, wasn't it?" he asked.
"There's going to be a hearing about the death eater attack." said Harry "Sorry Jimmy, but I'm a little upset. I have to go."
With that, Harry apparated off with a very sharp crack. Daphne guessed his room, and apparated off to find him.
She lay down on his bed in the sun, took the novel she'd been reading from a robe pocket, and asked Harry, in as causal a tone as she could muster "How do you think that went?"
Harry waved a pale wand to lock the door, and again to raise a privacy charm.
"Initially annoying." said Harry, putting his wand away. "Ultimately he understood."
"That you could over-throw the government by just asking nicely?" asked Daphne drolly.
"I'd have to ask nicely first" countered Harry, looking out the window.He was impossible. And the way the sunlight caught the planes of his face was unfair. Daphne licked her lips.
"And if he'd stumbled on his dead Auror resurrected?" asked Daphne.
"I got away with it" said Harry. Who clearly had not thought about that at all when taking Dawlish for a stroll in the house.
"Lie down, and I'll give you a back rub" said Daphne feeling like he really needed a back-rub.
Harry took off his coat and lay down face-down on the bed.
"Shirt" said Daphne firmly. Harry sat up and took off his shirt.
Daphne smiled "Now lie down, and I'll help you feel better"
"I'll bet you will" twitted Harry.
Daphne rubbed Harry's back and shoulders. He was very tense. And once he'd relaxed, tickled Harry's ribs, both sides at once. Harry yelped and thrashed like a trout on the riverbank. Daphne let out a laugh. Sucker. The warm feeling in her chest had turned to bubbling joy – there is no joy like ticking someone.
Harry tickled back. There was a lot of tickling, but Harry with no shirt did worse.
"Mercy!" Harry cried, shaking with laughter. Daphne tickled him mercilessly. Then stopped, she wasn't a monster.
"So what do you think of the story that we were secretly lovers at Hogwarts for years" said Harry, straight-faced, lying on his back, looking up handsomely at her, at as she sat astride him.
Daphne snorted and burst out laughing. Harry counter-attacked with tickles.
"Monster!" Daphne cried, twisting out of Harry's tickle.
"The other one is spicier" said Harry.
"Really?" asked Daphne, lying on her side on one elbow. "You think so?"
"The story that you're blackmailing me into marrying you with something" said Harry. "Sounds dreadfully dark and mysterious."
Daphne looked at Harry very seriously. "Why would I have wanted to do that?"
"Exactly" agreed Harry "Of course, now you'd do it for the sex."
Daphne didn't react. "What sex?" she said evenly, so Harry snogged her, slowly taking her clothes off and demonstrated a few times.
"Oh that sex" said Daphne, lying naked astride Harry "I'd forgotten" She wiggled "How does that go again"?
Harry tried to make an oral argument. It was … compelling. Toe-curlingly so.
"Mm-mm!" hummed Daphne. "You know, I'm really missing our bedroom, but this one is okay on a warm day."
Harry sat up from his position low down on the bed "Okay?" he asked "Well, apart from the gardens, it's all back to good."
"You can go show me this afternoon before dinner" said Daphne.
"Daphne dear, it's four thirty already" Harry replied, looking at his watch.
"Just time for a little sex then" said Daphne.
"You could help me out with that" asked Harry suggestively pointing at his floppyness.
Daphne psyched herself up and … returned Harry's recent favour… and the look of eye-rolling pleasure on his face felt… rather gratifying. His hands caressed her cheeks while her hands gripped his taunt arse. It wasn't that hard to do really, and he was groaning in a very gratifying way.
"Blimey" Harry ejaculated.
Daphne sat up and licked her lips "Well, I think I've earned a bit more?"
And he did his best – which was rather good, and then they held one another and Harry managed to surprise her with a long slow 'hug' that was exactly what she felt like. He gazed at her looking rather dopey and flushed. Daphne had the strangest, warm, squishy feeling that Harry was, erm, besotted with her. Which was ridiculous. They just had a satisfying sex life, that was all.
Jimmy's pies for dinner were really quite good*.
-==0==-
The next day, at breakfast, Harry didn't swipe all the bacon. Which was suspicious.
Daphne got back to her office at Little Hangleton, and collected all her papers. She settled into the office at Grimmauld place, and updated all her records with the recent post from tenants. And made a start on the journals.
But she hadn't been to Black Books in ages, and that nagged at her.
At about ten, Tweedle knocked on the open office door.
"Do come in" said Daphne. Tweedle held his floppy wizards hat in both hands "It's the gardens" he said "They're in a troublesome way."
"Well, exercise your judgement" said Daphne. Tweedle winced.
"Would it be helpful to get Neville Longbottom to come?" asked Daphne.
"I just. They're all injured, the trees that is." said Tweedle. "An… one near the house is little more than matchsticks" Daphne felt her eyebrow raise.
"Really. Near the house?" asked Daphne.
"It had some huge cuts, but something exploded it" said Tweedle 'Someone' thought Daphne. Someone who didn't do what they were told in the aftermath of the attack.
She dashed off a note for a letter to Longbottom.
"Well, we'll need trees, I'll get Mr Longbottom to come" said Daphne.
Tweedle left awkwardly.
Daphne wrote a letter to Longbottom, and went down to the kitchen, and looked for Salazar. Who was lurking, hunched over in a rafter.
"Salazar. Post!" she said, and held up the letter. The owl glared at her.
"You're a post owl." said Daphne, going to the tin that held owl treats. She got two, and put them on the table with the letter.
Salazar swooped down and ate the first treat, and eyed her balefully.
"It's a letter to Neville Longbottom" she offered. Salazar pecked up the second treat, and chewed, looking at her, then picked up the letter and flew off.
"Not even bitten" said Jimmy "But I'll have to wash the table."
Daphne hit it with a cleaning charm, and nodded "But I'm not bleeding." she said.
"What is wrong with that owl?" asked Jimmy rhetorically.
Daphne apparated back to the office, checked her papers, and decided she would brave Black Books.
She apparated back to the kitchen, and Jimmy jumped. Oh, he was a little on edge from the invasion too.
"I'm off to Black Books" said Daphne, and dashed floo powder into the floor, called out "Black Books!" and stepped into the green flames.
The 'kitchen' of Black books had a cauldron on the side of the fire, and shelves covered in parchment boxes. The walls were all made of recycled desks, and made a rats maze of narrow little hallways and small offices.
Daphne stepped out of the fire, and the first person she found was Tracey – in her office, at her desk, banging away at the printing cash register.
She looked up and inhaled sharply "You're Here!" Tracey exclaimed, and then pretended to ignore her, and finished keying in a page of accounts.
"I suppose you're here to catch up?" asked Tracey, standing up. Daphne grabbed her and hugged her instead.
"Oh, here for a hug huh" said Tracey into her hair.
"We were attacked" said Daphne softly.
"I did work that out by the way your floos were all locked out by the Aurors, and the Daily Prophet ran a page about it. Was anyone hurt?" asked Tracey.
Daphne wondered what to say.
"Um" she said. "It's complicated. Harry's okay. The … it's complicated."
Tracey held her, and Tracey's hair smelt decent today.
"Okay, we'd better have a staff meeting" said Tracey eventually.
Daphne drew herself upright, and let Tracey go. "Right. In the kitchen then." she said, and walked slowly out of Tracey's office into the back room, and stood by the fireplace.
Tracey went out the door to the front, and Millie followed her back in.
"Are you all right?" asked Millie. Daphne nodded "He's … he's fine" said Daphne.
Millicent lifted her eyebrow and went over to lean against one of the shelves "Nobody I know was involved." she offered. "Are they really all dead?"
Daphne wondered what to say, and settled for "Harry got very angry with them, the Head Auror came to question him. There's going to be a hearing at the next Wizengamot session." Daphne paused "Of course, under the House and Grounds Act, it's merely a formality."
"How um, many really?" asked Millie.
"Seventeen" said Daphne "One of the Aurors was badly injured. And before you wonder, it was Ron Weasley, Harry's friend from school."
"How badly are we talking?" asked Millie.
"Might not live" said Daphne, honestly.
"So… is he planning on going hunting?" asked Millie. 'Do I need to tell everyone we know to flee the country?' was the unstated question.
Daphne shrugged "He's not… " She wanted to say 'as bad tempered as his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin' but was aware that only Dawlish knew, and Dawlish worked for 'Shack', and the Minister owed Harry for winning the war, so if Harry didn't want to say so, then they were not out of the closet as Slytherins. Much like his family not going around name-dropping that they were related to the Peverells. Given just how much Harry hated being mobbed, it was unlikely he'd ever admit to either publicly. "He's going to go to his hearing, tell the Wizengamot the truth – that he acted withing his legal rights, and go home."
Millie nodded significantly.
"Honestly Millie, I have no idea. I don't think he will, he's… he's tired of all that." said Daphne.
"And the Auror office?" asked Millie.
"Will be looking for next of kin, and telling them to sit down and shut up" said Daphne "He's on first name terms with the bally Minister. He literally killed an un-killable dark lord. The attackers could have killed me, easily – I'm rubbish at Defence, and the staff all barely survived Death Eater attacks in the war, attacks that killed their families. But him? They must have been very stupid."
"But you weren't hurt" said Millie, and she pursed her lips.
"Harry got us to safety, then… killed all the attackers" said Daphne "And then ..."
"Then?" asked Millie.
"I yelled at him for being a stupid thoughtless git" admitted Daphne. "Bundled off to a safe house, and none of us had any idea what was going on. If he'd died, my sodding cousin inherits the family business."
"You could have remarried. To someone you like" said Millie, and Millie eyed her keenly. Daphne felt herself blushing.
Daphne wondered what to say. She settled for "Millie, training a husband takes years. This one, except when we're attacked, actually follows instructions. And besides, he has his good points."
Millie turned to Tracey "What's the sweep up to?"
"About forty galleons" said Tracey. Daphne guessed immediately what the sweep was, and decided to use a sarcastic attack "Tracey, George Weasley at Weasley's Wheezes is running a sweep already, you should investigate merging to two pools."
Tracey put her hands on her hips "I can't believe it. Who would be so crass as to run a sweep on your life?"
"Well, apparently you, and George Weasley" said Daphne. "My money's on never."
One of the Carrow twins, and some of the other staff left their offices, and crept into the back room along the narrow, crooked back hallways. In hindsight having Millie make it all out of transfigured secondhand tables might have been quick, but it was a little… rabbit-warren-like.
"Staff meeting" said Tracey "Our illustrious founder, Mrs Daphne Black is here. She was voted most beautiful teen witch in France last year."
"Yes, a doctored photo, I'm just famous for being married to him" said Daphne bluntly. "But this is my business, now I'm not going to barge and run everything today, but do we have any problems that Tracey or Millie can't deal with?"
No-one put their hand up or spoke.
"Great" said Daphne. "Now, we're looking to expand outside Britain, does anyone have any ideas?"
All the staff just stared woodenly at Daphne.
"Innat your job?" asked Francis.
Daphne held the huff in, and noticed Theo wasn't there.
"Where is Nott?" asked Daphne.
"He's at home" said Tracey "Goblins have mucked up the engine, and he's trying to work out why."
Daphne stood up as straight as she could "Is it broken?"
"The new spell for all customers tally doesn't work." said Francis. "The engine gets stuck."
"New spell?" asked Daphne, feeling suddenly out of her depth.
"The engine only does the spells it's taught" said Francis. "An' they start out not working. Bit like a dumb first year."
"Does the engine … need to be repaired after a spell goes wrong?" asked Daphne.
"Nah" said Francis "Grahame can reset the cams an' gears."
"Grahame?" asked Daphne, thinking 'We hired another dork?'
"The goblin artificer wot likes the engine the most" said Francis "Even for a goblin, he's pretty weird."
"And is called Grahame" said Daphne, uncertainly.
"Yeah" said Francis quietly "It's the name he answers to, but the other goblins call him Keglikt."
"Right" Daphne nodded uncertainly, and noticed Tracey making a cranking motion near her head. Oh… 'Grahame' was a bit mad. Obviously.
"They're not real spells" said Millie "They're…. like potions recipes for the engine."
"No, they're like knitting patterns" said Sally-Anne "They're on punched cards, and the engine does what they say. When there's a mistake it all just goes clonk and stops."
"And the new spell for all customers tally isn't working" said Daphne. "Is there an old one?"
"Well Theo wrote one, but it's really crude" said Francis "The goblins wanted more than just one number on the scroll at the end."
"So apart from the engine, is there anything I need to deal with?" asked Daphne.
"Turn up in public, so people stop coming into the shop looking to see if you're dead" said Millie bluntly.
"What?"
"The Prophet ran a story about your manor – when'd you get a manor? Being attacked and lots of deaths, and you've net been seen since" said Millie.
Daphne looked down at her outfit. A sensible outfit suitable for business. She could go to Flourish and Blotts, browse for a novel, and doubtless a reporter would turn up.
"Fine" said Daphne "I'll go to Flourish and Blotts."
"Nick past Teemers and get us a jumbo roll of parchment" suggested Tracey.
Daphne eyed the room "Right. Ink supplies okay?"
"Yup" said Millie.
Daphne left the back room, opening the door into the front office. The other one of the Carrow twins was sitting at the front desk, working the calculator.
The Carrow twin looked up from the calculator"Oh you're alive" she said, and went back to her work.
"Hestia?"
"Yes." said Hestia, not even looking up.
"Anything you need? I'm going out to be seen, so people will stop coming in to see if I'm dead."
"That'd help" said Hestia, keying in another number.
Daphne left the store, the bell on the door tinging as she opened it.
Diagon Alley was looking very busy, even though it wasn't a holiday shopping season, or nearly start of school term. Daphne had got perhaps forty feet down the alley when a witch exclaimed "Oh it's her!"
Flourish and Blotts did have some new novels, and Daphne eyed the selection. There was one about a Witch with a hero for a Wizard, and Daphne picked it up and opened it to a random page.
"… oh my love, my heart beats only for you' said David, his robes bulging from his huge muscles."
Daphne closed the novel and wondered why a wizard would need huge muscles, but a witches choices were peculiar to a witch, she supposed. She re-opened the book mere pages from the end.
"Gwendolyn gazed across her grand ballroom, covered in the crumpled bodies of dead cultists. David stood, panting, his wand in one hand, and the glowing sword he'd pulled off the wall in the other."
Daphne frowned. Killing a massed army of cultists in the ballroom? The blood would doubtless stain the floor. One dead wanna-be Death Eater in the parlour had made a big mess. Well, and Weasley getting murdered, she thought guiltily. This David fellow had better be on point with cleaning charms, thought Daphne.
"Gwendolyn ran across the ballroom in her ripped dress robe, and David swept her up into his manly embrace."
'What had he done with the sword?' wondered Daphne.
"'Oh Darling' said Gwendolyn, admiring his handsome features."
'With a robe covered in blood? Harry would have started cleaning up by now,' thought Daphne.
Daphne bought the novel anyway. It was probably just that her nerves were a little shot.
When Daphne left Flourish and Blotts, a trio of Aurors were standing, wands out at the entrance, holding back a milling crowd. Oh.
"ITS DAPHNE BLACK!" shouted someone. People started loudly asking questions, and it was all a blur of noise.
"One moment Mrs Black" said one of the Aurors without turning their head to see her "Given recent events, we're your escort. Where are you going next?"
"Well I'm off to Teemers for parchment then back to the office" said Daphne.
"Right" said the Auror "Diamond formation."
One Auror on her right, one in front and one behind, was what the meant, apparently. The crowds drew back at glares from the Aurors.
Some witch shouted out "IS HE ALL RIGHT?" Daphne caught her eye. The witch who'd yelled was wearing a ludicrous badge with "HP" on it. Daphne caught her eye "He's fine" she said.
When Daphne got to Teemers and Spools, she stopped at the door and quietly said to the nearest Auror "Thank you for the escort." and slipped into the shop.
She bought an industrial-sized roll of parchment, and the clerk helpfully shrank it to a manageable weight, and it fit in her space-expanded robe pocket.
The Aurors escorted her back to Black Books, where Rita Skeeter and her photographer waited.
Rita looked up at Daphne with a false smile, her tacky gold-framed glasses glinting "Daphne, Darling, it's been positively Ages." she gushed insincerely.
"Miss Skeeter" said Daphne politely.
The photographer must have fired their flash at that moment, as an intense flash of light was followed by a drifting cloud of purple smoke. When the smoke cleared, Rita had a quill floating over a roll of parchment. Daphne could barely see anything except a fading white splotch.
"How are you?" asked Rita.
"As well as can be expected. We fled the attack before they reached our house, except for Harry, of course, who stayed to … buy us time to escape" said Daphne politely.
"And how is he, was he badly hurt?"
"Someone exploded our greenhouse, and Harry was hit by flying glass" said Daphne "I had him healed up as soon as the Auror office told me the attack was over."
"The rumour is that there were a lot of deaths?" asked Rita, one eyebrow arched.
"Rita, there's going to be a Wizengamot hearing, so you can get the details then. I wouldn't dream of attempting to use the press to pressure the Wizengamot." said Daphne.
"A hearing?"
"There are accusations that H – that My husband used excessive force" said Daphne "I will say he acted in line with The House and Grounds Act." Rita frowned at that. She could do her own legal reading.
"And how has this affected you?" asked Rita.
"It was terrifying, and annoying, and my staff, who suffered cruelly in the war were forced to relive some very unhappy memories" said Daphne. "Now if you will excuse me, I have a business to run, and the door to it, is behind you."
Rita didn't move. "Our readers are dying to know, how do you feel today, as the witch married to the most desirable wizard in Britain, given this attack on your house?"
'Most desirable wizard in Britain?' Daphne wondered about that. You'd have to ignore a number of very handsome quidditch players to make Harry top of that list. He did have his good points, obviously. His sense of humour was, when he wasn't punning, quite amusing.
"Rita, I was very worried, and it's been terribly inconvenient, and obviously there are personal issues related to the attack I won't discuss" said Daphne.
"Can you shed any light on the rumour that Auror Weasley died in the battle?" asked Rita. Daphne felt her stomach twist, as she remembered the blood and gore.
"I would" said Daphne, taking a few deep breaths, "Rather not talk about that." The nausea she felt abated.
One of the Aurors motioned with their wand, and Rita slowly scuttled sideways, unblocking the door. Daphne went back into the shop, and closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and exhaled. Her stomach ached, and her eyes felt prickly.
"Good interview with Rita Skeeter then" said Hestia blandly, clicking another number into the calculator.
"Brought up memories and nearly my breakfast" admitted Daphne.
"Very gory then" said Hestia, casually entering another number.
Daphne went through the door into the back room and took out the parchment roll, and put it on the shelf next to a substantially smaller roll. Daphne drew her wand and undid the shrinking charm on the roll, and it grew back to quite large. The shelf creaked softly.
"You're back" said Millie from the corner of the room.
"Rita Skeeter wanted an interview" said Daphne, and she rubbed her eyes.
"Well at least nobody'll think you were dead" said Millie.
There was a pregnant silence.
"How's the cottage?" asked Daphne.
"Those bloody Armitage kids were in my back garden" said Millie "Scrumping my fruit."
"And?"
"So I hexed them, just some jelly-legs" said Millie.
"Well I suppose that'll work" said Daphne.
"So then next day, Mrs Armitage comes over with a pear crumble" said Millie "Wanted to make amends."
"Oh"
"SO I've got the little buggers weeding my garden now" admitted Millie.
"How was the crumble?"
"I'm stretching it out over the week" said Millie "Felicity keeps tryna go back to Hogwarts."
"I suppose it's not that for away?" mused Daphne.
"Yeah, and I can just see McGonagall bringing her back 'Miss Bulstrode, your cat has strayed into Hogwarts'" said Millie. "I don't need that sort of attention."
"Explain to Felicity. Besides, she'd probably send Hagrid." said Daphne drily. "How's eating at the Leaky?"
"Fine" said Millie in a tone that implied 'not fine.'
"And really?"
"Madam Rosmerta gives me stick" said Millie indignantly "Me, a respectable working witch."
"Well she's a working witch too" said Daphne, lifting one eyebrow.
"Says I should make my own porridge" grumbled Millie.
"It's a cauldron, water and oats, Millie."
"I like table service" said Millie.
I like breakfast in bed, but I'm not mentioning that, thought Daphne. Millie would call me a spoilt cow.
Daphne went home to Grimmauld Place.
-==0==-
The next day, at breakfast, the Prophet had an article 'Distraught Daphne Black's traumatic home attack.' With a picture of Daphne looking tired in her work robes.
Daphne started reading, and quickly felt her blood pounding in her veins. Skeeter had made out that Daphne was a wreck, barely able to live with the trauma, and that she had lost the will to live.
The article went on to make personal observations about her robe, her lack of a cute little hat, and lack of makeup. Her hands crumpled the paper.
Harry spoke up "Something annoying you?" he asked. Daphne looked over the Daily Prophet at him. He was eating a kipper and toast, and had his eyebrows raised.
"Rita Skeeter" said Daphne.
Harry nodded "Hateful person, yes" he said, blandly.
"She's made up the entire article!" complained Daphne. "Just because I want out without dressing up!"
"Which is why I never go anywhere public anymore" said Harry blandly. "Controversy sells newspapers, apparently."
"I wish there was some way of getting her to … tell the truth!"
"Oh there is" said Harry, and his mouth twitched into a crooked grin "I've got an expert I can send in."
"Will there be a lot of blood?" asked Daphne, envisioning a mess like their grounds.
"None, probably" said Harry. "Just try to ignore her." His smile was oddly predatory.
Daphne glanced at the end of the article 'The distraught matron fled, unable to revisit her traumatic attack.' "I hate her" Daphne hissed.
Harry put his fork down "That's quite a normal reaction to her, yes" he said "Don't worry, she'll make the story about me after the hearing."
He smiled, but his eyes didn't smile with his mouth.
-==0==-
Neville Longbottom, according to his rather formal, tidily written letter, could come on Wednesday afternoon.
On Wednesday morning, over breakfast in bed, Daphne told Harry to go to Little Hangleton, to see about Trees.
"Trees, that strangely, one has been rendered into splinters. One quite near the house" said Daphne. Harry stared fixedly at his bacon.
Harry attended the meeting at Little Hangleton about trees. Daphne went off to see three tenants about renegotiating their agreements, and they were all subdued and reasonably compliant.
And Harry made it home to Grimmauld in time for dinner.
"So, how did the meeting go?" asked Daphne.
"Most of the trees need to be replaced" said Harry. "Davis wasn't going to say. Neville's seen it all before, of course at Hogwarts."
"I'm glad you had some help come, Davis was a bit reluctant" said Daphne.
"Erm, it's the cost really" said Harry. "Buckets of plant growth potion" He rambled on.
Finally, Daphne asked "And why is the inestimable Mister Longbottom not here?"
"You know the cursed tree?" asked Harry. Daphne hadn't heard about that. "Well apparently it needs to be picked up by Magical accidents and catastrophe's, it's cursing on the ground its on."
"Your friends are ridiculously helpful" said Daphne. "I'll have Jimmy take him a snack"
Mrs Foster nodded at her instructions for Jimmy as she served the Lemon sorbet.
*Jimmy's Pies are quite good in real life. Hard to get these days but still, Hat-tip.
[AN: This chapter got to 20k words and that was just silly. The second half will be posted later]