Acknowledgment: The author makes no claims. The characters in this story come from the works of J.K. Rowling, or are characters created to interact with those. Many thanks to Ms. Rowling for all of her work and for allowing us to embroider around the edges.

Merit and Inheritance

Chapter Eight

The Greengrass Consultations

Harry let Daphne take her time, working through whatever she had to work through. He had no idea what it was, so he thought it would be best to keep his mouth shut. They hadn't been close when they were in school. The tentative steps they'd taken after the war didn't progress enough for close. Offering a hug would have made them both uncomfortable. Harry did have a box of tissues. Perhaps he could start there.

"Daphne?" Harry said. He worked at keeping his volume low.

"Here, please," he said, trying to push the box into Daphne's possession while also not being pushy. It was a fine line.

"Thanks," Daphne said, taking the whole box.

Daphne didn't look at Harry while she got herself together. When she did look, Harry had a bit of a start, which must have shown, because Daphne had one of her own. She sat up straight, defiance in her reddened eyes.

"I'm sorry for bothering you, Harry Potter. I should go," said Daphne as she stood.

"Why don't you sit down and we'll see if there is anything to be done, that we can do together, about this problem of yours?" asked Harry.

Daphne sat back down.

"Here's what I see, Daphne," Harry said. "You have some kind of issue, something that is causing extreme stress. You just started crying, right in front of me. Your problem is nearing a crisis, or so it appears from your perspective. You're reluctant to talk about it, which makes me think the problem is of a personal nature. You've reached out to me, so you don't feel safe opening up to someone from your own social set and background. You've bumped up against some old-time, pureblood thing, is my guess. Cyrus sees you, educated, single, soon to age out of your prime years and thinks that's a wasted asset. Is that it? The parents want to sell you off to raise cash?"

"Ohh…Harry Potter! I think I liked you better as a train wreck," Daphne said. She had a tissue, balled up, that she focused on un-balling, pulling the delicate thing out, little by little, from the central clump. Harry wondered why she didn't just pull another from the box he'd given her. He wasn't counting. When Daphne got enough tissue free, she dabbed the corners of her eyes.

"Bathroom?" Daphne asked, standing up and tossing the tissue in Harry's bin.

"Right there," Harry said, waving his hand toward the door in the corner of the office. Harry poured a little more coffee while he waited for Daphne to return. He'd just finished emptying the carafe when the door opened.

"Harry Potter, is there anything possible one can put in a bathroom that you haven't put in your bathroom?" Daphne asked.

"Now, those are all just basic bathroom fixtures…" Harry began, before Daphne cut him off.

"Have you ever used the bidet?" Daphne asked.

"I, myself, no, but the time might come. A contingency, someone who needs one, or…or…" said Harry. "Actually, there is a story behind that."

"Of course," said Daphne. "There just had to be, didn't there?"

"So, can I interest you in some more coffee? Or a switch to mineral water, lemonade, iced tea? Sandwich or snack?" Harry asked.

Daphne sighed.

"One more coffee wouldn't hurt," she said.

Kreacher came and went, taking the empty carafe and leaving behind a full one. Daphne took a sip and stared at her cup.

"It's complicated," she began. "My father, Cyrus, is not what you'd call well-educated, but he was fairly successful nonetheless. He played quidditch at Hogwarts and went on to play as a professional. They didn't have the payrolls they have today, so the players were mostly in it for the fun, taking home a few galleons at the end of a game. He hung on for a few years but the offers dried up and he retired. Still, being a former quidditch pro opens doors. Someone in the family a few generations back made butterbeer, then they were bought out by a larger firm. We still have shares from that deal. They've grown in value and split a few times. Those and a couple of other things combine to make a modest cushion so Father could work for businesses and people he liked, as opposed to what he calls 'purely mercenary' employment. In other words, an occupation that makes money."

"Even so," Harry interjected, "Investments, endorsements, public appearances, and don't you have an estate? Am I hearing the Greengrass's have money problems?"

"Oh…Yes," said Daphne. "Income and outflow are out of balance. The parents, they've got a problem."

"Alcohol," Harry guessed. It wasn't a question.

"That's part of it," said Daphne. "Cordelia—my mother—has been a tippler forever. I still remember getting her 'special grape juice' confused with my grape juice one morning at breakfast. I must have been three or four. To this day…well, I don't suffer a lot of hangovers. But, back to my tale of woe. Father always handled the money. He made it and we were never without, so Mother relaxed in the back seat with her lap robe and flask and let him hold the reins. Let me say I don't worry about him dragging me down with him. It's Astoria."

"I thought she and Draco were seeing one another?" Harry said. "Why aren't they married, anyway? Isn't she of age?"

"We're almost there," Daphne said. She paused to take another sip of her coffee. "I don't worry about getting dragged down because I'm free of my familial obligations. He got in a tight spot shortly after I completed my studies and entered into practice. I did well right from the beginning. The people in my register, let's say, they can afford to pay their healer. Father came to me with a proposition. Basically, he'd sell me to a Selwyn and get out of the hole he was in. I'd earn his appreciation for being a loyal and obedient daughter. I made a counter-offer; I'd match Selwyn's offer and Cyrus would free me, complete with an oath to that effect. He stomped around and snorted for two or three days. Mother hid in her room with an elf and a selection of fortified wild fruit wines."

"He saw things your way?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, once he saw that I had sufficient grit, which I'm certain came as a complete revelation," answered Daphne. "I didn't have the cash right then, but I went to the goblins and let them see my ledger. I got what he needed with my signature. That may have hurt worse than anything. He was humiliated. He'd gone through life thinking he was a multi-millionaire wizard sportsman. He had to glad-hand for his employers, who he always insisted on calling 'associates.' He thought that was doing business. He was successful at it, therefore, he was a successful businessman. They kept him around for the smile and the nostalgia. Then he aged out. All the real movers and shakers he knew were replaced in leadership by younger people. Then his daughter turns out to have the clout to get Gringotts to front her the money to get him out of his jam and herself free of him."

"So the income dried up," said Harry, completing Daphne's thought.

"Exactly," she said.

"But he has the estate, the investments you mentioned," said Harry.

"All in hock or the income committed elsewhere. One big juggling act," Daphne said.

"You seem to be financially competent," Harry went on. "Any chance you can get a look at the accounts and put things on a better course?"

"Remember what I said about humiliation? He's still the titular head of the family and in charge of our joint affairs. He has a seat on the Wizengamot. I don't have a lot of exposure. I made sure of that after the last time. My practice and thrifty habits ought to have me in a pretty good position a few years hence. Were it me alone he could sleep on his ledgers."

"Ah," said Harry, making the connections at last. "Astoria."

Daphne reached for the tissue box as she gave Harry a few silent head nods. He let her collect herself, at her own pace. He wasn't expected anywhere. Harry thought through what Daphne had just told him and looked for someplace where he could come in and make a contribution.

From what he had heard so far, it sounded to Harry like a wizard, and head of house, had been responsible for the management of the family resources and botched the job. It happens. He didn't envy the family members who would be faced with the choice of wresting control of the family property and accounts from an incompetent, thus shaming him before his peers and relatives, or letting him continue to flail.

"I don't know, Harry," Daphne said, freeing Harry from his reverie. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

"Maybe, maybe not," Harry said. "I'm very sorry to hear about your family stress. What do you think he wants to do about Astoria?"

Daphne breathed in and let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"In plain terms, he wants to sell her, the same as he did me."

Harry leaned back in his chair. When he got all the way back, he flexed his feet and ankles, just enough to do a little rocking. Daphne closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic squeaks. They ought to have been annoying, but they weren't.

"How much does he owe? Who does he owe it to?" Harry asked.

"Hard to say," Daphne said. "He won't talk about it, and if he answers one question, he'll seldom answer two. Gringotts holds a note on the estate. He has been managing to make the scheduled payments, somehow."

"Have you talked to your mother? Any chance she knows more than she wants people to think?"

"Yes, and I don't think so," Daphne said. "I've never seen any sign of the manipulative skills that would be necessary to pry the books out of his hands."

Daphne's matter-of-fact description of what it would take for her mother to take some control of her own finances got to Harry, who burst out laughing.

"What?" demanded Daphne.

"Your offhand reference to everyday manipulative skills," said Harry. "It just sounded so…normal."

"Ha! Hahahahaha!"

Daphne laughed, a real, taken-by-surprise belly laugh. It was the first display of genuine, unguarded mirth Harry could remember seeing from her.

"Well, Harry, for all the old pureblood snobbery and claims to understanding and sophistication and recognition of arts and manners and how to live life, far beyond what muggles can even imagine, there is no one more backward, more condescending and downright disrespectful to women than an old-time pureblood head of family. I see it in my own, in my practice, and in the Daily Prophet. Consequently, according to the rules of natural selection, witches with unusual insight, habitual reticence and subtlety, along with a lack of compunction for using whatever tools were ready at hand to get control of the forces influencing their lives, were at a competitive advantage. If the standard, prejudiced, out-of-the package chief let himself be led around by his nose, or his reproductive urges, or something else, that's a shame, isn't it? Especially if he didn't have it coming, the poor rarity."

Harry sat, no longer rocking, staring into Daphne's eyes. He didn't speak until he had formed the question in his mind:

"And you actually think you need me for something?"

Daphne laughed again.

"Harry Potter, you scamp! Yes, I need you. You asked all the right questions and nothing that didn't pertain. Your natural business sense comes out everywhere. Plus, you're a wizard. I could win every prize for healing in the magical world, master all the subspecialties and get all the certificates and I'd still be a witch," Daphne said. "I have no credibility worrying my pretty little head over these business matters. Why, I'm still single! If I were truly smart, I'd work at making myself more attractive and see if I couldn't find a nice, intelligent, good-looking wizard to marry. Then he could make a living for the two of us and take care of me the way I deserve."

They took a break from conversation for a nice, extended staring session.

"Okay," said Harry. "I'm in. Something about the problem, maybe the complexity. Whatever, let's take some time and think this through…"

Pansy had long since come and gone. It was after seven by the time Harry stood up and stretched.

"Ah…" he said, waving a hand toward the bathroom door to finish a sentence.

"Where do you want to eat?" Harry asked when he stepped back into the office.

"I was going home," Daphne said. "Did you know you can make soup in a paper cup with just boiling water? The muggles have to put their kettle on one of their ranges, of course…"

"No," Harry said.

"Well, someplace fast, not fancy, then, I'm hungry and I have to get to sleep," said Daphne. "Tomorrow's a work day, and a healer's got to be alert."

"Um," said Harry, acquiescing. "Let's go."

Harry led the way back to Diagon Alley and the little courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. He stopped, reached around Daphne's waist and grabbed a good handful of her cloak.

"Harry Potter, you aren't taking me…" Daphne managed, before they disappeared.

"…to Grimmauld Place, are you?"

Before she finished she knew her assumption was off, by a couple of hundred miles. She looked around a beautiful harbor, the lights on the quay and some of the boats shining on the water, while opposite she saw a row of lovely buildings, two and three stories tall.

"This is…?"

"Penzance," said Harry. "There's nothing fancy to keep you up late and the pub grub will be just as good this time of night. Possibly better. I hope fish and chips or pasties are on your list of approved…"

"If I hadn't just spent hours and hours convincing you to help me out with something, Harry Potter, I'd invite you to kiss my magical…"

"Promises, promises," Harry said. "Let's see what's open."

Harry led the way to the row of two-story buildings that led away from the quay at a hard right angle, climbing a long hill before disappearing a few yards into the gloom.

"You passed the entrance," Daphne said.

"Yes, and no," said Harry. He turned into a little penetration in the wall. It could have been mistaken for a shadow if one didn't know where one was going. The space was a flat black cave entrance until they stepped into it, then it got a bit lighter. There weren't any lamps or other visible light sources.

"Ah, now that's magical," said Daphne.

"You noticed," said Harry. "Pretty smart, for a witch. Especially such an attractive one."

"Hsssss…" said Daphne as Harry pushed a door open, stepped inside, and held it. He led the way to a booth along the wall opposite the bar. The room wasn't all that big. All the illumination seemed to come from candles and hurricane lamps. Even so, the smoky scent added a little to the atmospherics, without burning eyes or lungs.

"Okay, what is this?" Daphne asked when they'd gotten settled. She couldn't stop herself from extending a finger to rub a weathered hawser that was strung, garland-like, on the wall.

"It's a pub," said Harry. "The other door goes into a famous and historical Penzance pub where anyone is welcome. Everyone who comes to Penzance has to go at least once. This is the magical annex, which I found by accident. It's on the magical tourist circuit, like the other side is for muggles. Of course, there are a lot fewer witches and wizards than there are mundane tourists."

"Arrrggghhh…"

Daphne looked up at the ghost that stood by their table. He was dressed in a nautical uniform at least two hundred years out of date. The ghost wore an eyepatch and had a long telescope tucked under one arm. The ghost stood with his back to a hanging lamp and his good eye was lined up on the globe, which imparted a very disturbing backlit glow to the eye.

"Sir and Madam," the ghost began, "I'm Nelson, no, NOT that one, thank-you for not asking, and I'll be your server tonight. We have fish and pasties. Butterbeer. Some muggle brews. Firewhisky. What else? Oh, I don't know…"

The ghost paused, looked up, and appeared to be trying to remember what else the kitchen had on the menu that evening.

"The fish is?" Daphne asked.

"Cod, of course," said Nelson.

"And the pasties?"

"Traditional, with the flank steak and without, and a truly vegetarian with peas, carrots, potatoes…Oh, I get confused, anything that turns up that isn't meat," said Nelson. "Can't expect food to be a ghost's area of expertise."

"Go ahead," Daphne said to Harry.

"One traditional, with the flank steak, and a glass of water, any kind of water," said Harry.

"Same," said Daphne. She shrugged as she looked at Harry. "You've been here before, so you wouldn't be eating anything that made you sick the first time."

Nelson turned and floated back to the bar, presumably to put in their order, shaking his head at Daphne's impertinence.

"I like this," Daphne said.

"Glad to hear it," said Harry.

"Thanks for bringing me. I should treat," Daphne went on.

"My guess is you'll have an opportunity," Harry said, "But I'll be getting this one."

"I forgot to ask your rates," said Daphne.

"I don't have a business, well, not like that," said Harry. "I'm not an investigator or a consultant or a lawyer or anything."

"All the same, you should charge something for your time, Harry Potter," Daphne said. "What you did this afternoon was invaluable. I wouldn't have thought of half of the things you brought up."

"Would you be more comfortable if we monetized this? So it's business? I'm aware I didn't contribute to your store of happy memories," Harry said. "We're still acquaintances, before business associates."

"Stop apologizing," said Daphne. "You did give me some happy memories and anyway, I wasn't at my best, either. Our class had been ground up and spit out. Fate. How are you doing now?"

"Better," Harry said. "Lots better. You?"

"Much, much better. Do you want this to be business?" Daphne asked. She looked into Harry's eyes. He couldn't look away.

"We can hold that over for a decision to be made at a later date," Harry managed.

"Works for me," said Daphne as their food arrived.

Nelson put everything on the table, his hands disappearing into and rising out of the wooden top as he manipulated the plates and silverware.

"I'll be back with the water," he said, floating back to the bar, then floating from the bar to the table with two pint glasses and a large pitcher of water.

"Any idea how he does that?" asked Daphne.

"None," said Harry. "I was in here twice before. He never drops anything, even though those hands have no substance, near as I can tell."

They started on their pasties, taking tiny bites because the pies were so hot.

"I don't want us to part with the kind of words we had last time," Harry said, out of the blue.

Daphne stopped eating and sat up straight. She expected Harry to reach over, perhaps squeeze her forearm or cover her hand with his. Instead, he stayed on his side of the table.

"Harry," she began, but Harry interrupted her.

"No, Daphne, take all the responsibility you want, but I was wrong, wrong, wrong to act the way I did. To this day I don't know what got into me. It was all just so confusing. High hopes, I don't mind saying, paired with abominable actions. I promise to be very careful and not do that kind of hurtful stuff again, so help me Merlin."

"Enjoy your pasty, Harry," Daphne said. "If you want to talk about your days as an ornery young man who briefly saw an ornery young woman before they came to an ornery end, we'll make a date. Just leave it alone for now, though, okay? You're tarnishing my Penzance experience."

"Oh, don't want to do that," said Harry. "Let's see-how about, do you come to Penzance often?"

"One day trip, it's been a few years," said Daphne. "I remember I came with an older girl who'd passed her apparition exam, so I guess I'd have been sixteen. In my memory it was gorgeous. Don't know why I haven't been back. That needs rectifying."

"I think this is my fourth," Harry said. "I need to come more often, too. It's just so lovely. Quiet, peaceful."

"There, wasn't that nice?" Daphne said. She raised her napkin and dabbed her lips before taking a long pull on her water, then taking a few moments to swallow. "That other stuff was all in the past. I acknowledge your good intentions, but let's leave it there."

"Oh," said Harry. "Is this a fresh start?"

"It is if you'll meet me half-way," said Daphne.

"Not some Slytherin trick?" asked Harry.

"Be serious, Harry," Daphne said.

"Okay, cards on the table," said Harry. "I remember you, under the Sorting Hat, like it was yesterday. I couldn't make friends with you, for so many reasons. Slytherin-Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy. Riddle. I assumed you considered me half human, half lower animal, because of my mum."

"If you don't mind me making one little observation, Harry, you brought at least two-thirds of that baggage of your own accord, if you think about it," said Daphne.

Harry put his pasty down and chewed. Then he took a drink of water and put the glass down.

"You're right, I can see that now, although that is a post-therapy phenomenon. Life will get very complicated if we try to do two things at once," Harry said. He picked up his last bite of pasty, the little folded-over bit of crusty dough from the end, and tossed it in his mouth.

"I'm sure you know more about business than I do," said Daphne. "I can wait a little longer."

"On my account?" Harry asked, a little bit incredulous.

"Get a halter on that ego, young man," Daphne answered. "No. I'm picky. I've never thought sexual adventure was worth the time if I can see clearly, in advance, some random hunk is tedious with his clothes on. I've always been that way. Who wants the hassle of getting rid of the excess if ninety-nine percent of the meat is of no interest? That may be a minority opinion among my young, unmarried sister witches."

"Oh," said Harry. He took his time unraveling Daphne's question. He thought she was conveying something positive since they'd just been agreeing to exploring a little deeper if they concluded their business successfully. Harry decided he'd been accorded a compliment by the Healer Daphne Greengrass.

Talk moved on to other topics. It took some time to get through the most recent engagements, marriages and births among their contemporaries. Harry resolved to avoid talking about Romilda and Morag, if Daphne should bring them up. He felt like the information he and Pansy had discovered was tantamount to privileged, the same way Daphne's patients would be off-limits as conversational fodder.

"Well, then," Harry said, standing up and reaching in his pocket for some money. "If you like this place enough, I'll see if I can arrange an account."

Harry waved at Nelson, who pointed at the bar.

"Makes sense, probably can't handle coins," Harry muttered. Daphne shrugged into her cloak and took Harry's arm, an unexpected and pleasant development. Harry smiled, Daphne smiled back, and they turned for the door.